I’m slowly drifting to you…
The stars and the planets are calling me…
A billion years away from you...
M83, My Tears Are Becoming A Sea.

The snow fell upon the mountainside, dusting the tops of the great stone edifices in white. In the light of the setting sun, slowly disappearing behind the hilltops, the snow was stained with a deep, bloody crimson, lending an ominous air to the twilight hours.

Upon one ancient path amongst these mountains, there stood a young but exceedingly tall and well-built maroon reindeer, maybe in his mid-twenties. Across his strong body he wore a fur-lined red cloak, and a single stylised pickaxe was hooked onto a harness he wore. He was staring out at the mountains with a deep frown upon his face.

What was it they used to call it? Sint Erklass thought to himself as he looked upon the mountain range with a solemn expression. The Dragon’s teeth? Not entirely unlike them, methinks. Stained in blood, the mark of carnage, and still here despite all the long years that have passed since the horrors began, despite the years that have passed since it ended. He let out a mournful sigh. Maybe that mark will yet stain us all, after all.

He shook his head, seeking to banish such cold and unwelcome thoughts. He hadn't come here to muse.

He trotted along the old mountain path, still glancing out at the other mountains in the range almost instinctively. This land was far from inhabited. Different nations surrounded it, to be sure: from the remnant of the Dragons to the many small changeling hives to the nascent Griffon Alliance. But, whether for fear of what had transpired long ago in these mountains, or out of a desire to settle in more temperate lands, none of them had yet ventured here.

Long memory, the Great Stag thought to himself, grimacing. Even now, he knew, these mountains were rumoured to be cursed land.

He wondered if it was so far from the truth after all. He had heard many stories since his youth, even though he had come into the world after much of the worst of what had once happened was already over. These lands had seen more horrors than the living could remember.

Let us hope that the worst of that time’s atrocities have passed forever, he mused, but even as he thought it he felt a twinge of foreboding.

Dark things were on the horizon. They were always on the horizon, waiting for their time to return and threaten the light of day.

And that, he thought, is why I must not let Faust complete the journey she has undertaken.

Eventually, he came to the entrance of a cave. The snow still swirled all around him, but this place was relatively sheltered. The cavern, though, was dark, and nothing of the inside could be seen.

“Faust?!” Sint called out into the wind. “Faust, art thou in there?!”

There was no answer for a moment, but then a tall bipedal figure stepped out of the cave. It wore a hooded cloak, so Sint couldn't see its features, but he knew who it was, or at least something of what it was, which was likely more than any being on Equus.

“Spirit,” he said, scowling. “Is Faust within that cavern?”

The figure didn't speak to him: it almost seemed as though it hadn’t acknowledged his existence.

“Answer me, thing!” Sint snapped, feeling his patience wither. “I have come to speak with Faust!”

The figure tilted its head beneath the hood, the first sign that it had even heard him speak.

“Guardian of Joy,” it spoke, its voice a soft whisper.

“I will not ask again, spirit,” Sint hissed at the thing in response. “Where is Faust?!”

It pointed to the cavern with one of its arms. “She is within, finishing her work.”

Sint looked back at the cavern entrance, frowning. “Her work?”

“Thou may ask her about such things yourself when she emerges, Guardian of Joy, and she may, in turn, answer thee,” the figure said, and even with its alien cadence it was difficult to miss the dismissive tone. “It is not mine purpose here to explain these things to thee.”

Sint glared at it. Not thine purpose here, thing? I trust not thine ‘purpose’ here. If it were up to me, thou wouldst be banished from this world forever.

He didn't say any of this aloud, of course – who knew what powers this thing had? Fortunately, he was distracted from further anger by the second figure to emerge from the cavern.

Sint choked back tears at the sight of her. Faust, the beautiful Faust, looked so very worn and aged, her glorious red mane faded in its lustre, her eyes ringed with woe and lined with cares. Time had no sway over the life of an Alicorn, but woe and care did, and had exacted much of time’s toll in its stead.

“Dearest Sint Erklass,” she said quietly, her voice soft and gentle, and yet still easily heard over the wind. “So, thou hast come to say goodbye.”

Sint cast a glance at the figure, who now waited silently. It simply ignored his scrutiny.

“I have come to dissuade thee from this foolishness, dear Faust,” the Great Stag told her after a moment, choosing his words carefully. “I trust not this… this creature with whom thou hast bargained.”

The figure seemed content to ignore Sint’s diatribe. Faust, however, simply sighed.

“Mine most beloved friend,” she said, her tone soothing. “Thou and I hath shared many dangers, many joys, and thou hast learned much as the years have gone by. Yet there are things thou still knowest not, and thou art better off for it.” She glanced at the figure. “This being shall be my guide in the ways of the realms beyond. From it, and the travels it takes me on, I shalt learn where mine betters and their kindred failed. Maybe I shalt find enlightenment... or mayhap, there will be no enlightenment to be found. Either way, I shall know.”

“And what of Kontagion, the Krampus, or even the Fallen One himself?” Sint asked. “We cannot be certain of their whereabouts… or their disposition. And that leaves aside the possibility that worse things yet, other evils in other lives, will arise.”

“Yes,” Faust agreed with a sad smile, “the threat of the last Chimerae cannot be disputed, but it is no longer mine place to defend this world against them.”

“No longer thine place?” Sint repeated, aghast. “But Faust -”

“Mine time is over, mine oldest friend,” Faust said gently, her soft voice somehow cutting his louder exclamation off with ease. “I leave it to those who shall come after me to decide the future of the Old Race’s lost children.”

“I fear we do not have the power to stop them, not like the great dragons of old,” Sint said mournfully. “If they come again…”

“Thou art young, Guardian of Joy,” Faust said, cutting him off, “and thy power will only grow as the hurts our world has suffered dim in memory, and life’s joys grow to replace them, so that when thyself art old, all this will seem but a dream. Though I have no power of foresight, I know in my heart that thou shalt face the Krampus, and overcome it. Take heed, though. There are more ways to defeat a foe than to spill their blood. Thou mayst find, that the only way to destroy thine enemy is to make peace with them.”

Sint snorted involuntarily. “Forgive me, my dearest friend, if that seems impossible to me.”

“I pray it is not,” Faust replied. “Thou knowest, as I do, that they were once noble beings who sacrificed much for a good cause, a just cause. Mayhap that nobility will live on in some way. In this resides Kontagion’s last great chance for himself.”

Sint nodded, though his expression remained doubtful. “And... what of the Fallen?”

“Ah, yes,” Faust said. Her expression became downcast. “That matter, the oldest of wounds.” She began chuckling, though there was little mirth in it. “Time heals all wounds, or so they say… and yet, time destroys everything in its course, and even the mountains are laid low before its ravages. Some might call it the greatest foe of all.”

“Others might call it the companion,” the figure interjected, addressing both for the first time. “One that walks with us through the long years, and reminds us that they are to be cherished and not cast aside, for they will not be again.”

Sint ignored the interruption, and Faust merely shrugged.

“As thou prefer, spirit,” she said. She paused. “Thou art worried he shall return.”

“He hath not yet been banished in entirety from the world,” Sint said. “Thou hast said as much! What is there for us to do if he should return?”

Faust sighed. “For him, I leave mine legacy, and may Equus not find it wanting.”

“We shall need thee, Faust!” Sint insisted. “Not… not whatever safeguards thou hast placed. It is thy wisdom that will save us when darkness returns!”

“It is not mere safeguards that I have left, Dearest Sint,” Faust rejoined. “I have left mine children: three of mine own kind, made as I was made, and empowered to act as I was.”

Sint’s eyes widened. “Thine… thine children?” His mind raced, the implications settling over him. “But… surely, then, thou must remain, to teach them if nothing else will sway thee!”

She shook her head. “Mine work on this world is finished, Sint Erklass. To thee, I make a gift of the future, and to them whom I leave behind. It is their time, and yours. Not mine.”

Sint looked over her shoulder into the dank cavern. “Thou… wilst leave them there, alone?”

“For a time,” Faust said. “The magic that hath made them will keep them, protected from the mould and the damp, suspended as they are until the time is right for them to be revealed.”

“‘Until the time is right’?” Sint repeated, dubious.

“Their kindred among the lesser ponies will discover two of them in due course, many years hence,” the figure interjected, addressing both of them again. “And from there shall their destinies play out as they are intended.”

Sint was tempted to question the creature’s knowledge of the future, but something else caught his attention.

“Only the two?” he asked, frowning. He turned to Faust again. “And what of the third?”

Faust smiled, a bittersweet picture, and Sint felt his heart ache at her anguish.

“Her destiny, like mine own, is of solitude and sacrifice,” she said quietly. “Until such time as the world is ready, she will be the secret watcher, the last line of defence for when the foe returns to torment our peoples once more.”

She said nothing more, and Sint sighed, wishing she’d confide in him. But he knew that she never fully would.

“As ever, Faust,” he said, as sincerely as he could, “thou hast my word that I shall look out for thine children, protect them as my own.”

“I trust thee to keep thy word, dear Sint,” Faust said quietly. She looked to the figure. “And now, spirit of possibility, the time has come for us to depart hence.”

“So it has,” the spirit said. “And not a moment too soon.”

Sint watched as Faust approached the spirit. He looked conflicted for a moment.

“And if I should need thine guidance once more?” he asked.

Faust smiled as a soft light began enveloping her and the spirit. “The third is the one who knowest best mine wishes. It is her place. She is the scribe of their destinies, Sint. Trust her.”

“I swear it to thee,” Sint said, his voice raising as the light enveloped the two, brightening until they could not be seen.

“Look to see us no more, Guardian of Joy,” the spirit said, its voice echoing ominously around the mountainside. “Never again shall we grace the paths of this world, and on none of the paths that await thee shall we be found.”

And then, they were gone.

Sint Erklass, Guardian of Joy, closed his eyes and wept.

Many years later…

Ashes swirled in the air around her as she trotted slowly through a dead forest. Branches cracked beneath her hooves. Bodies, charred and smouldering, surrounded her, and she breathed in, the scent of cooked flesh, smoke and charcoal, filling her nostrils. A twinge of something like sadness flared through her mind.

Adlaborn, the home of the Reindeer kindred, had been burnt to the ground, rick, cot and tree.

This was a necessary sacrifice, however regrettable. He would never have understood what we have to do, in order to achieve, at last, the true Harmony we have long sought.

She took another breath, looking around, and almost subconsciously, a soft smile lit up her face, her eyes aflame with something unreadable.

Do you see me now? she thought. Do you see me now, that I have laid waste to your friend? That I have cast down what he built? Am I unworthy now, mother?

And then Celestia shook her head, before taking another breath. Behind her, she could hear the crunching of another set of hoof-steps, and she turned, seeing one of her many Guardsponies standing at attention.

“Captain,” she said to him. “You have a report?”

“Yes, your majesty,” the Captain said, bowing. “Your Angel sends word. Her task is done.”

Celestia nodded slowly. “Then we have completed our work here. Move the division out.” She gave him a small smile. “And tell them that they are hereby granted three month’s rest leave for their successes here.”

The Captain smiled, and saluted. “They will be most grateful to hear that, your majesty.”

Celestia said nothing, and turned away from the Captain. She heard him trot away, but paid it no mind.

This distraction is ended, she thought. Now, our attention must once more fix on the primary threat. I will finish what I started a long time ago. Retaliation. Witness me, mother. Witness me burn the human race, as I have burned Adlaborn and the Guardian of Joy. Witness me tear down a broken world and rebuild a new one. A better world. Witness me build Harmony as it always should have been. Her face twisted into a scowl. And when you witness it, thou who betrayed me first and most, I hope you feel the pain I felt! I hope that you weep bitter tears at what you helped to create! I hope you DROWN IN THEM!

This was not what was intended.

My purpose is to ensure the plan does not deviate. That is the sole reason for which I was born. Every action I take and do not take, no matter the feelings of others in the matter, is done with that purpose in mind.

This was not what was intended. It is deviant. It is wrong.

And so I will do what I must. I will act in accordance with the plan.

Nothing will stand in my way.

Edited on 13/04/2020.

When I started this story, I had left the “proper” Spectrum main story, SPECTRUM, a few months prior. At the time I left, I wrote the following in a blog:

“There’s a lot of complex feelings I have attached to Spectrum. Bluntly, more complex feelings than a fanfic about magic cartoon horses warrants or deserves. And, I think, over the years I’ve done this sort of thing, there’s grown a very real and irreconcilable difference between what Spectrum is and what I want (or need) it to be to satisfy my admittedly rather demanding self. And I can’t go on dealing with that disconnect, not when it causes me more distress than it warrants, not when I have so much going on in my life.”

The fact is, I was wrong. That difference is not irreconcilable at all.

And thus, now, all these years later, I’m updating this opening author’s note to say this.

Initially made up purely of my own work from SPECTRUM (painstakingly extracted from old drafts of the various google docs), this story and the wider Reduxverse as a whole is a complete universe, with a separate (if related) continuity to other versions, and its own path to follow.

I hope you enjoy this version of the story. And, to quote the first trailer for FFVII remake:

The reunion at hand may bring joy. It may bring fear. But let us embrace whatever it brings… for they are coming back. At last, the promise has been made.

“You see, Nightmare Moon. When those elements are ignited by the spark that resides in the heart of us all, it creates the sixth element; the Element of Magic!”
Twilight Sparkle, Friendship is Magic, part 1.

The Everfree Forest, Equestria. 2nd May, Year 3 Era Harmonia.

Myr Fee’s law always hits the hardest when it's a nice day.

It was an old saying, but a mint-green Unicorn named Lyra Heartstrings had found it to be oddly prophetic for today.

She had decided, perhaps rashly, that she would go to the Everfree Forest to seek out the Castle of Two Sisters. She’d arrived at this decision after a brief conversation on the topic with her old friend Twilight Sparkle. The other Unicorn – who, among other (perhaps more notable) things, was the local librarian of the town of Ponyville – had mentioned that the castle probably had an extensive, hitherto untouched library all its own. A library that, in all likelihood, contained untapped reservoirs of knowledge.

Besides: those untapped reservoirs of knowledge held within them the hope that she might find more information on her chosen field of study. Even as she trotted through the old forest paths, she felt a grin grace her face.

Today, she decided, I am definitely going to find proof of humans.

She idly wondered why Twilight hadn’t chosen to avail herself of the Castle’s library herself, but she dismissed the thought as she kept trotting through the forest.

Though the Everfree Forest had something of a terrible reputation – unlike the vast majority of Equestria, the Forest had its own ecosystem that acted independently of pony influence, and that was ignoring the huge numbers of terrifying creatures that lived within it – Lyra had felt confident in her ability to handle it when she set out.

Unfortunately for her, confidence was nowhere near the same as certainty.

Which path was it? she wondered, as she looked at an upcoming fork in the road. She tried to remember which direction she had been told to go in, but her mind drew a blank. Should I toss a coin?

Shaking her head, she decided to head on the left, but deep in her heart she felt the first twinge of uncertainty shake the confidence that she’d had this morning.

Think I’m starting to see why Twilight didn’t come back out here, after all.

Ponyville Library.

In point of fact, Twilight Sparkle, Ponyville’s resident librarian, did have more than a passing curiosity about the site. In fact, the purple Unicorn mare had kept ‘Check Castle Of Two Sisters Library’ on her long-term to-do list almost constantly since she had first seen the castle.

But… well, it was in the Everfree Forest, after all, and unlike Lyra, Twilight tried to let her common sense rule over her more… esoteric impulses. Not to mention the fact other things always seemed to pop up every time she thought about going.

Right now, said ‘other thing’ was an artefact from an expedition to an ancient, unidentified ruin that had been explored by the Equestrian Archeological Commission over three years ago. They had been sorting through various pieces when they found something that they couldn’t quite wrap their heads around.

Princess Celestia herself had personally sent it to Twilight in order to ‘get her insight into it’, as she had put it, and Twilight appreciated the task both as a sign of her mentor’s trust in her capabilities and, more importantly, as a test of them.

It wasn’t the first such test in recent months. Indeed, only a few short months ago, Twilight and her friends had been tasked with going to the Crystal Empire and protecting it from a powerful, almost demonic creature that had once been a Unicorn named Sombra. Twilight was convinced that this artefact was another test in the same vein, and she was determined to crack it.

Upon first glance it was beautiful but not exactly complex. It was a kind of box: large, golden, heavy and covered in symbols. It was only when further examined that it was clear that the symbols were, in fact, ones that she didn’t recognise from any book she had ever read. There was one inscription on it in a relatively easily-translated ancient Equestrian dialect, but it made almost no sense (unless her translation was waaay off). The rest of the symbols were older still, the sort of thing that she couldn’t understand at all.

“So,” Spike, her small purple dragon assistant, said, frowning at the box. “You think you’ve got to open it?”

“That seems the most likely option,” Twilight said, scrutinising the casket carefully. “I just don’t understand the design of this box.”

“Why not?” Spike asked, frowning at the box. “It’s… well, a box, isn’t it?”

“So it seemed upon initial inspection, but it’s a very odd one,” Twilight said quietly. “There’s no hinges, no keyhole, and the seam’s barely visible, like it’s not meant to be seen. Heck, I’ve even tried doing a bunch of unlocking spells, but they don’t do anything.” She pointed to the inscription in ancient Equestria. “This part’s the only thing I can get the translation for.”

“Well, does it help you figure out how to unlock the box?” Spike asked.

“Not really,” Twilight said, still frowning at it. “It reads, ‘Here the fallen sleeps, his hatred hath laid him low, he will never wake’. Or it could be ‘he must never wake’.”

Spike frowned. “Could it be a burial urn? Somepony’s ancient ashes?”

“It could be, but that doesn’t explain why Princess Celestia would send it to me,” Twilight said quietly. “No, there must be more to it than that.”

“More to what than what?” a voice piped up behind Twilight.

With a yelp of surprise, Twilight leapt into the air, before crashing to the ground in a heap. Dazed, she looked up, to see the concerned-looking face of Rainbow Dash, one of her friends.

“Oh, hey,” she said, grinning, before passing out.

Everfree Forest.

Alright, Lyra had to admit to herself, scowling at the unfamiliar trees around her. We’re definitely lost.

She should have known this would happen. The Everfree was the sort of place that, according to the old wives’ tales, always seemed to be different every time you went into it, but it was never easy to get through. There had been a reason that, as little fillies, Lyra and her friends had been warned off of going into the Forest. Its reputation went far enough that there were probably Vanhooverites who knew what it was.

Well, she thought, finding that castle is a bust: I’ll be lucky to find a way out, much less anything interesting.

It was in that moment, perhaps predictably, that something interesting found her.

One moment, Lyra was walking along the path that she had come along (at least, she really hoped that it was that path), and the next, a flash of light shocked her into leaping into a bush. Cursing softly, she stepped out of the bush, brushing brambles off of herself, before frowning at the source of the light.

It looked, and there was no other word for it, like a tear in the very fabric of the air in front of her. Beyond it, she couldn’t see anything but white, crackling void, and she held her breath, trying her best not to let the wave of something between awe and terror that she was feeling overwhelm her.

What is it? she thought, taking a hesitant step toward the tear.

Suddenly there was a flash of what almost looked like lightning, and Lyra jumped backward. Another flash lashed out, seemingly from within the gaping gash in reality, and then another. Lyra backed away, feeling the urge to run, but something compelled her to stay – whether it was fear of moving or morbid curiosity, she couldn't say.

The flashes continued, one after the other, then more, until in a sudden burst there was a final flare of blinding light that filled the air…

And then the light receded, the hole in reality seemingly gone… and a figure was standing in the clearing.

It was tall, maybe six foot. Bipedal, and wearing clothes – grey, black and white camouflage patterns all over the trousers and torso, the upper body attire consisting of some sort of light armour, and all of it was dirty, covered in grime and what looked like blood. Parts of the attire were torn, displaying bloody gashes and at least one nasty burn. Its eyes were blue, its hair cropped short and blonde, and a wispy goatee on its face. Notably, much of its visible skin had some sort of strange markings, which almost seemed to be glowing.

Lyra blinked at it. Bipedal. Clothes. Mostly hairless, except -

“Ly-Lyra?” the figure whispered. “Lyra Heartstrings?”

“Y-yes…” Lyra said, eyes wide with shock.

“You… you did it,” the figure said, something like a smile gracing its strange features. “You actually… actually did it…”

That was all it spoke, as it lapsed into unconsciousness on the spott, collapsing heavily to the ground.

At once, Lyra dashed over to it.

Him, she thought reflexively as she checked the thing was still breathing. ‘It’s a him. Masculine voice. Testosterone. Gender dimorphism in the species. Her brain had gone into analytical mode. Male, unknown species, but bipedal structure and opposable thumb hands indicates…

She paused, before almost smiling. She knew what this thing was, or at least she thought she knew. She took a deep breath.

“Hold on, big guy,” she said, trying to sound reassuring. “I’ll go get you help. You’ll be okay.”

Ponyville Library

“I’m so sorry!”

Rainbow Dash, to her credit, did look genuinely upset that she had hurt Twilight, even by accident. That didn’t change the fact that Twilight was currently pressing an ice pack against a growing lump on her head. Spike had stepped out of the room for a moment to fetch more ice packs – Rainbow’s arrival had definitely given Twilight a headache in more ways than one.

“You should – ow! – really learn not to sneak up on ponies,” the Unicorn hissed. “I’m surprised you don’t cause more accidents!”

“Well, you left your door unlocked,” Rainbow said with a shrug.

“Did I?” Twilight asked, giving Rainbow a sceptical look.

“Well, your door, your window, same difference to a Pegasus,” Rainbow shrugged. She looked at the artefact and frowned at it. “Whatcha doin’, anyway?”

Twilight frowned. “Studying an ancient, probably very fragile artefact for Princess Celestia. Nothing you’d be interested in, I’m sure.”

Rainbow scrutinised the box, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked it up and down.

“Is it like a treasure chest?” she asked.

“It’s probably an urn,” Spike said with fake confidence as he walked back into the room with another ice pack. “It’s got a weird eppy-tap on it.”

“Epitaph,” Twilight corrected, rolling her eyes. “And it might not be an urn.”

“What’s the epitaph say?” Rainbow said, exaggerating the word deliberately and giving Spike a knowing grin.

Sighing, Twilight repeated the words. “The last line could be ‘will’ or ‘must’.”

“‘He must never wake’,” Rainbow repeated, frowning. “Huh. That’s sounds like a pretty ominous thing to stick on somepony’s urn.”

“It does a bit, doesn’t it?” Twilight agreed, grinning. “Which is why I’m convinced it’s not an urn. Or at least, not just an urn.” She returned her attention to the box. “I’m determined to figure out a way to open it and figure out what’s so special about it.”

Rainbow tilted her head, scrutinising the box closer still. “Are you sure it’s something we oughta find out?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Twilight asked, frowning in confusion. “Anything we can learn from this can tell us something about the past, when it was made, and who by!”

“And, maybe, why they aren’t around anymore?” Rainbow added, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, I’m guessing this wasn’t found in somepony’s yard sale.”

“No,” Twilight said, her tone deadpan. “It was found in an ancient ruin.”

“Yeah, see, the phrase ‘ancient ruin’ clinches it for me,” Rainbow said, smirking. “I get I’m not the brightest spark ‘round here, but what if whatever’s in here is… I dunno, ‘something ponies were not meant to know’?”

Twilight snorted. “I don’t believe there are Things ‘ponies were not meant to know’.”

“You’ll say that, and then you'll read some ancient book or find some ancient tomb and inadvertently unleash some mystical doodad,” Rainbow said, raising an eyebrow. “Like in that Daring Do rip-off, what was it… The Mareohs of Neighypt, when they cursed ponies and they turned into horrible monsters that could destroy the world!”

Twilight snorted. “Contrary to popular fiction’s usual tropes, ancient artefacts don’t tend to cause curses and suchlike. That’s usually confined to the realm of fiction.” She paused. “Wait a minute.”

“What?” Rainbow asked.

Twilight narrowed her eyes at her. “You read a book other than Daring Do?” She paused. “You know the word ‘inadvertently’?!”

Rainbow shrugged. “Got bored. Got desperate. Looked similar. Last time I try broadening my horizons.” She smirked. “And yeah. What do you think I am, stupid?”

“No, I…” Twilight began, and then she sighed. “Anyway. Broadening your horizons can be good.”

Rainbow sighed. “Look, I like what I like, it works for me. ‘Kay?”

Twilight just shrugged. “Whatever you say, Dash. I have a lot to be -”

Before she could finish, the door to the library burst open. Fortunately for her, Twilight did not jump quite as high, but it was still shocking.

“Twilight!” a familiar voice yelled, and Twilight blinked in surprise at the sight of a very breathless Lyra Heartstrings. “You need to… one mo’…”

The mint-green unicorn was panting, as though she’d been galloping at top speed.

“Lyra?” Twilight managed after a long pause. “What… what’s wrong?”

“Injured… creature… new…” Lyra replied haltingly. “You… need to come. Like, now.”

And without another word, she dashed out the door again. Twilight glanced at Rainbow.

“Well, that sounds… weird,” Rainbow supplied after a moment. “You reckon we should follow her, Twi?”

The purple unicorn mare sighed and shook her head. “Lyra’s always been a bit of an oddball…” She paused. “But she did sound serious.”

“She said something about an injured creature, too,” Rainbow added, frowning. “Wonder what that’s about. Should we get Flutters?”

Twilight nodded slowly. “It’s probably for the best to get the others and follow her. Celestia knows what this is about, but if there’s a hurt creature we’d be better off helping as best we can.”

“Gotcha,” Rainbow said, before charging out of the library at full pelt.

“You want me to come too, Twilight?” Spike asked.

“No, you wait here, Spike,” she replied quietly. She turned to follow Rainbow Dash. “What’s the betting all this fuss is over nothing.”

Getting the others hadn’t been so hard. Following Lyra, who had run off at a pretty quick speed, had been harder, but Twilight knew more than a few basic ‘find this pony’ spells so it wasn’t impossible. A thing, translucent trail of mint green sparkling energy led off in the direction the Unicorn had gone, easy enough for the group to follow.

The group had reached the Everfree by now, where Lyra’s trail led deeper into the woods. Rainbow Dash, predictably, had gone on ahead to make sure that the spell really led to Lyra (as opposed to something else entirely), despite Twilight telling her the spell was foolproof.

“So what sort of injured critter is it?” Applejack, an orange Earth Pony with a cowboy hat atop her blonde mane, asked.

“Lyra wasn’t exactly specific,” Twilight said grimly.

“Whatever it is, I hope I’ve brought enough first-aid supplies,” Fluttershy, a butter-yellow Pegasus mare with a long pink mane, said. Her soft voice was trembling even more than usual, the thought of some poor injured creature worrying her immensely. She had packed a first-aid kit with enough bandages and pain-soothing creams to treat two full-grown ponies, but there was no way to know just what Lyra had seen.

“I’m sure you have,” Rarity said, the alabaster Unicorn smiling kindly. “It’s just a case of finding the poor dear.”

“Well,” Pinkie Pie, a cheerful pink Earth Pony, said, “whatever this new creature is, I can’t wait to find out what it likes in a party.”

“Really?” Applejack asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey, when you’re injured and upset, a party in your honour’s the perfect way to cheer up,” Pinkie said, frowning at Applejack. She smiled again. “Trust me, it’ll be the perfect way to make it feel loads better.”

“Well, that’s something for this poor creature to look forward to at least,” Fluttershy said with a smile.

“I’m honestly surprised Lyra left it alone,” Rarity said, frowning slightly. “It seems… a little irresponsible, to be honest.”

“Lyra… can get overly excitable,” Twilight said diplomatically. It was the politest way she could think of saying that Lyra had been the oddball scatterbrained member of her old friendship group (if you could have called it that) in Canterlot. That she had moved to Ponyville was, safe to say, not the most pleasing thing Twilight could have imagined. That being said, Lyra had, at least, curbed some of her more eccentric habits.

Some.

Before anypony could say anything else, however, Rainbow Dash appeared ahead of them, flying back at high speed.

“Rainbow!” Twilight greeted her. “Did you find Lyra?”

“No, but the trail leads further in,” Rainbow replied breathlessly. “But there’s something you need to see, now.”

“Why, what’s wrong?” Twilight asked, frowning.

“Look,” Rainbow said, “just trust me, you’ve totally got to come see this!”

“See what?” Twilight asked.

“Just come!” Rainbow insisted.

Before Twilight could say anything else, she had turned and dashed off (Twilight, that was a terrible pun).

“Come on, girls,” she said. “We need to find where she’s gone, and what’s so important.”

He crawled.

He crawled because walking hurt, and because staying still was as good as dying.

He crawled because he could, and because that was a miracle in itself.

He crawled because he was damned if he was dying in some hole, somewhere far away from home. He was damned if he was dying without doing everything he could. People were counting on him. Lives depended on him.

He crawled, pulling himself up the dirty face of the ‘stairs’, leaving the chasm behind him, grimacing in pain as he did so.

He crawled, and ran a checklist of things through his mind to take his attention from his pain – what had happened to him? How had he gotten here?

Had that really been Lyra?

He crawled.

Twilight blinked as Rainbow pointed at the thing that had been causing all the fuss. Twilight was standing ahead of the rest of the Element Bearers, scrutinising the object her friend had dragged her out of their way to see.

“You see it. Right?” Rainbow asked, eyes wide.

Twilight looked at her, then at the thing, and then back at Rainbow. She took a breath.

“It’s a tree, Rainbow,” she said.

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “Well, duh! Of course it's a tree! But look at it!”

Twilight sighed and looked back at the tree. It was an especially gnarled example of a tree, to be sure, but there didn't seem to be anything wrong with it, particularly.

“You see it, don't you?” Rainbow asked. She looked at the others. “Any of you?”

“I do!” Pinkie Pie put in. The pink party pony had her head tilted at an almost entirely upside-down angle, a look of concentration on her face. “It's a skull!”

Twilight frowned, before turning to look at the tree again, tilting her head as she did so. Now that Pinkie had said it, the tree’s arrangement did look like a skull.

“So… it's a tree that vaguely resembles a skull,” she said. “Really… really vaguely.” She sighed. “How is this important?”

“It's a death tree, Twilight!” Rainbow said, somewhat insistently.

“A what?” Twilight asked.

To her surprise, there came a small cough from behind her. Twilight turned to see Fluttershy smiling slightly.

“Back in the days before Equestrian unified,” she said quietly, “there was a unit of Pegasus soldiers from the old junta that marched through a forest on hoof. They wanted to make sure their enemies weren’t hiding in the leafy terrain. They came upon trees that seemed to have grinning skulls upon them, but even though they took it as a bad omen, their commander pushed them on.”

“And they all got horribly slaughtered in an ambush,” Rainbow finished. “Ever since then, Death Trees have been considered omens of bad luck, death, and slaughter!”

Twilight sighed. “Really, though? It's an old tree. It looks a little bit like a skull. That doesn't mean that some horrible thing is gonna happen -”

“I dunno,” Applejack said, tilting her head. “Skull head, check. Creepy lookin’, check. Weird stuff happenin’, check. Reckon that fits all the criteria for this ‘death tree’ thingamajig.”

She gave Twilight a smirk and Twilight rolled her eyes.

“Mock all you want,” Rainbow said sagely, “there’s something screwy about all this. Like… I dunno, I got a bad feeling about -”

“Don't say it,” Twilight said heavily. “Next you'll be telling me you have a ‘Dashie Sense’.”

Rainbow blinked. “Of course not, Twilight. That’d be stupid.”

“Guys!” a familiar voice called. Twilight and the others looked to see Lyra waving at them from nearby.

“Lyra!” Twilight said. “Did you find the creature?”

“Just up here!” Lyra said. “It’s… uh, up!”

Lyra grinned as she led the others to the creature. It was definitely the creature she’d spotted earlier: he had apparently been crawling earlier, judging from the dirt along his legs and chest, but he had pulled itself up on a tree and was stumbling, limping towards the group. He was blinking at them, apparently confused.

“Wh…” he grunted, eyes widening slightly.

“What is it?” Rarity asked from behind her, speaking in a kind of hushed whisper.

“That…” Lyra said, a grin forming on her face. “That, my friends, is a…”

“No!” the figure said, its voice definitely masculine. It – he – held out one of its upper arms (was that a claw, or a paw?) in a warding gesture. “No, you won't!”

He stumbled backward.

“Careful, there,” Fluttershy said, her eyes wide with sympathy. “We’re not going to hurt you…”

“You won't change me!” the creature yelled, stumbling more, before finally collapsing to the ground in a heap.

At once, Lyra dashed forward, Twilight and the others behind her.

“What… what is it?” Rarity asked, frowning in confusion.

“It’s… or at least I think it’s…” Lyra began, examining the figure closely. “I think it's a human.”

Twilight frowned. “A... a human? But – aren't they mythical?”

“Yeah,” Lyra said, turning and grinning at her despite the injured human. “I've studied them all my life.” She turned to look down at the unconscious human, uncertain how to react. “You know, I always wondered if they were real. I always believed, but…” She let out an almost imperceptible squeal of excitement. “And now, here he is! A human!”

Twilight was still frowning, apparently unconvinced.

“But…” she said slowly. “But that's impossible. They're not real.”

“Impossible or not, sugarcubes,” Applejack interjected brusquely, “this fella needs a doctor somethin' fierce. Look at these injuries... he's beat up worse than Braeburn in a bar fight with a buffalo.”

“Applejack's right,” Fluttershy spoke up, already bringing her first-aid gear out. “Something terrible must have happened to him.”

Lyra frowned slightly, looking over the injuries the human had suffered. Some of them were lacerations, but there were a few that looked more like magic burns.

“I wonder what happened to him…” she pondered aloud.

Another pair of eyes watched the group as they began trying to move the unconscious human. These eyes studied the mares carefully, lingering on Lyra Heartstrings especially.

Curious, the owner of those eyes thought. Is this the past, or some strange alternate? Those were definitely Her Majesty’s Elements, but they were with… with Lyra Heartstrings of all ponies… and she is dead.

It made no sense, but that didn’t matter. Wherever this was, whatever had happened, wherever the owner of those carefully watching eyes had ended up, they knew their duty.

They would follow, they would watch, and they would serve their Mistress’ interests.

And so, the adventure seems to begin once again. However similar, it is bound to be different and run on its own tilt. Whatever that axis might be, it is bound to become a great story onto itself.

Hello, everyone. TheIdiot here, stopping by to see off Jed R’s Draft of SPECTRUM. I hope he will accomplish wonderfully in his own vision. Where it goes… well, I can’t say for certain. I’m just a visitor here like you, fair reader.

And like you, I cannot wait to see what Jed R has in store for us.

Sincerly,
TheIdiot.

“Did your eyes see the planet of our origin, the true home of our race? Was it beautiful? Was it covered by oceans? By sand? Were there nine moons above your head? Were there none?”
Forra Gegen, Star Trek: Voyager – “Distant Origin”.

Ponyville Hospital, Equestria. 2nd May, Year 3 Era Harmonia.

“I have to say,” Nurse Redheart commented as she checked the little vial of blood, “I've never seen anything quite like this.”

Lyra Heartstrings, a well-worn notepad held in front of her, was jotting down everything the nurse was saying. Twilight Sparkle didn't know what exactly her fascination was with humans – as a myth they'd always been rather vague and characterless, not unlike the myths about Sasquatches in the frozen north – but here Lyra was, scribbling away like Redheart was discussing the cure for over-channeling.

“What makes you say that?” Twilight asked the nurse. “Is there something unique about its blood?”

“Well, yes and no,” Redheart said. “The blood itself is thaumaturgically unreactive.”

“Thauma-what now?” Applejack asked from nearby.

“The fancy word for magic is ‘thauma’,” Rarity put in, happily inspecting the human’s garments. “Thaumatons are ‘units of magic’, in a sense.”

“Extremely unreliable units of magic,” Redheart corrected. “It’s not like we can measure it exactly. It’s more like we can measure the difference between ‘lots of’ and ‘not lots of’, or maybe just barely measure a more finessed version – so at a pinch, I could measure the difference between Ms Heartstrings and Ms Sparkle.” She shrugged. “Other than that, it's really just a case of being able to tell when something can actively react with thauma and when it can't.”

“And his blood can't?” Lyra asked, still scribbling notes.

“His blood can't, no,” Redheart nodded, “but that's the interesting thing.” She motioned to one of the many strange marks on the human’s body. “You see, as far as I can tell, these markings can.”

Twilight frowned. “Artificial thaumaturgical reaction?”

Redheart smiled. “Like I said, I didn't even know that existed, but it seems so.”

“That implies a level of advanced magical understanding – if not in him, then in whoever put the markings there,” Twilight theorised.

“Quite so,” Redheart said, and she chuckled almost ruefully. “Your new friend is… quite interesting, to say the least.”

Rarity snorted, stepping closer to the human’s clothing and picking it up. “I’d hardly say he’s our friend, Nurse Redheart.” She picked up a torn shirt and shuddered slightly, before dropping it. “Coming out of the woods and scaring us all silly is not exactly an act of friendship.”

“He was injured,” Fluttershy said quietly. “Injured creatures – even intelligent creatures like ponies – often default to instinctive reactions, and aren't always the most coherent.”

“So,” Twilight mused, “he is intelligent, then?”

Dash folded her forehooves. “Hey, he can speak, right?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t prove anything,” Twilight said, chewing her lip. “Each of us only heard him speak a few coherent-sounding words.”

“The ability to speak does not make you intelligent,” Pinkie said sagely.

“Exactly,” Twilight agreed. “For all we know, he could simply be a very sophisticated mockingbird.”

“Some mockingbird,” Dash said.

“Well,” Rarity said, sighing as she stepped back from examining him, “for what it’s worth, the clothes are machine-woven and seem to be reinforced cloth with some attempts at a kind of impact-resistant material I'm not familiar with. It could be some sort of survival gear?”

“What about the patterning?” Lyra asked.

“It's kind of camouflage pattern,” Rarity said. “I've seen similar patterns on birdwatchers and some scientists, to conceal them from view, except that this one is coloured in greys, whites and blacks, almost as though it was made for more urbanised environments.”

“Bird-watching in a city?” Rainbow Dash snorted. “Yeah, the pigeons must be really interesting in Humanville or wherever this guy’s from.”

“They could be,” Lyra said from behind her notepad. “For all we know, there could be giant pigeons where he's from.”

Rainbow laughed. “Oh, yeah, sure. With giant splats of pigeon sh-”

“Rainbow Dash,” Twilight warned.

Rainbow shrugged. “Just saying.”

“That would be messy,” Pinkie Pie reasoned. “The maths involved would easily make a splat like that three or four times the circumference of a regular -”

“Pinkie,” Rarity cut in, “no one wants to discuss that particular mathematical conundrum.”

“But it's so interesting,” Pinkie said with a smile. “And it's all dependent on proportions, diameters…”

“Well, pigeon leavings aside,” Redheart said dryly, cutting Pinkie off again, “I don't know entirely what we’ll be able to do for him. Half our staff aren't familiar with non-pony biology at all: we can't risk accidentally killing him because we don't know where everything is.”

“But you've got staff who’re familiar with non-ponies,” Rarity said with a frown. “Don't you?”

“Yes,” Redheart said slowly, “but usually we’re limited to Griffons, Horses and other more local non-ponies, Zecora and Spike excepted of course.”

“And this human is completely different,” Twilight nodded. “Zecora’s biology is similar to ours, and Spike’s reptilian and fire based, not water based.”

“There's a lot we can estimate about the human,” Lyra supplied. “Mammalian, bipedal -”

“That won't tell a surgeon where his heart and kidneys are, what the bone density is, how much blood he can safely lose,” Redheart said grimly. “It certainly won’t replicate blood if he needed a transfusion. We can make approximations of his biology, educated guesses, but as far as I know, they’ll be just that. And external examinations can only tell us so much about his injuries. They may be more extensive than they appear.”

“What are his injuries, exactly?” Twilight asked.

Redheart sucked in a breath. “Here's the part that may be the most unfortunate.”

She trotted to the human’s side and lifted the sheet gently, before motioning to the burns on his arm and chest. Fluttershy gasped at the full extent of the wounds, Rarity looked away, and even Applejack looked sick.

“Some of these are standard spell-burns,” the nurse said grimly. “Any unicorn with an axe to grind could have done those, though they take some practice. It's these,” she continued, motioning to a pair of black burns on his arm, “that bother me.”

“Why?” Twilight asked.

“They're not burns,” Redheart explained. “It's necrotic flesh.”

“Necrotic?” Fluttershy repeated. “But how did it…”

“Royal Guard and Night Guard unicorns are taught a spell that flash-necrotises flesh, killing the target almost instantly with a direct hit, or even most glancing hits,” Redheart explained grimly. “And only the Guard are taught it. It's expressly forbidden to teach it to non-Guard trained ponies. I remember seeing the results of improper application first-hoof during my time with the Home Guard.”

“So… so a Guardspony did this to him,” Lyra said slowly.

“So it would seem,” Redheart said quietly, “or possibly an ex-Guardspony, which seems more likely.”

“So lemme get this straight,” Applejack put in. “We have a mythological bein’, hurt by a spell only a guardspony can know, appearin’ in the middle of the Everfree?”

“That's about right,” Twilight said.

“Well,” the farmer said, sucking in a breath. “This is definitely a pickle.”

There was a moment’s pause as everypony considered this information and what it could mean.

“I need to find Spike and get a letter to Celestia,” Twilight finally said. “As soon as I can. She can pass it off to Shining Armor, maybe we can find out if…” She trailed off. “Well, we can find out if any Guardsponies have been involved with… this.”

“I’ll wait here with the human,” Lyra said quietly, “make sure he's okay. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

“I appreciate that, Lyra,” Twilight said. “Come on, girls – let’s see what Princess Celestia has to say.”

She trotted out, the others following behind her. Lyra sighed.

“My shift’s nearly over,” Redheart said quietly, “but I’ll be back tomorrow to help you, and Nurse Sutra Cross is a highly qualified xeno-surgeon. At this point, she’s his best bet.”

“Thanks, Nurse Redheart,” Lyra said quietly.

Outside the hospital, Twilight let out a breath that she hadn’t realised she had been holding.

“Well,” she said. “How’s that for a ‘doozy’.”

Pinkie Pie frowned. “Might be a seven out of ten. Maybe even a six.”

“Only seven?” Rarity said with a raised eyebrow. “Heavens, if that thing and all the questions it brings is only a seven, perhaps we should be grateful we’ve not -”

“Don't finish that sentence,” Applejack cut in. “Ah don’t reckon temptin’ fate’s a good idea.”

“If you believe in fate,” Twilight said with a snort.

“If you don't, ‘s’all fair to still be cautious like,” Applejack said. “Myr Fee’s law, Twi.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Come on, girls. Let's get back to the library so I can write up that letter. I have no idea how we’re going to explain this…”

“Successfully?” Pinkie asked.

Twilight let out a soft chuckle. “Here’s hoping.”

“There's something going on with all of this,” Rainbow Dash said grimly. “I'll just bet it…”

“Dashie,” Pinkie said, “breathe, and relax. You're looking way too serious. This ain't a doozy yet.”

“Serious face, serious business,” Dash replied. “And you said it yourself. ‘Yet’.”.

Ponyville Library.

Twilight hadn’t been back yet, and that was more than a little worrying. Despite Twilight’s blasé words about the issue being nothing important, Lyra Heartstrings had seemed pretty serious about there being an injured creature.

Spike found himself dusting to take his mind off of his worrying, which, in itself, said a lot about how much he was worrying.

It’ll be fine, Spike, he thought to himself. I mean, Twilight’s a clever mare, and it’s just an injured creature. How serious could it get…?

Suddenly, there was a sound at the door.

“Spike?” he heard Twilight’s voice ask. “Are you there?”

Immediately, Spike went to the doorway, seeing Twilight and the other Element bearers standing in the entrance hall. They were apparently in the midst of a conversation.

“You're sure she'll know what it is?” Rarity was saying. “I mean, I don't wish to question -”

“She’ll have some idea,” Twilight was replying. “And if she doesn't she'll know who will. She's never not known what a thing is before.”

“Yeah,” Applejack said. “She's gosh-knows how many years old, she's probably seen one of these human critters somewhere.”

“Yes, you're probably right,” Rarity said with a small smile. “Still, I – oh, Spikey-wikey!”

The bearers looked at Spike, who waved sheepishly. Twilight smiled.

“There you are!” she said. “I need to write a letter to Princess Celestia, quick.”

“What happened?” Spike asked, frowning. Something serious must have happened if they were writing to the Princess, but he'd heard nothing from town, so it couldn't have been a monster attack. Some friendship conundrum?

“Just hurry up and fetch a quill,” Twilight said seriously. “This thing, whatever it is, is a little beyond us.”

Spike nodded slowly, before going to fetch a quill. Beyond Twilight? She's not had to go to Celestia for help in ages… and even when she has, I don't think she's ever said anything’s ‘beyond’ her before.

He returned to Twilight a moment later, quill and scroll at the ready. It was only now he recognised the look on Twilight’s face: one of irritation, like a problem was vexing her far more than usual. He'd seen it before, when Twilight had been trying to find out what made Pinkie’s ‘Pinkie Sense’ work.

“Are you okay, Twi?” he asked sincerely.

She smiled, but it was strained. “There's something bothering me about all of this, is all. Ready?”

Spike held up his quill. “When you are.”

“Alright,” Twilight said quietly. “Here goes.”

Ponyville Hospital.

Nurse Sutra Cross, the xeno-surgeon Redheart had mentioned, arrived some ten minutes after the others had left. She was a cyan-coated mare, with a silky white-and-blue mane, a green cross on her flank, and a soft smile. Lyra liked her immediately.

Upon entering, her first action was to check the human’s eyes, after which she had declared with a compassionate smile that she thought he was dreaming.

“Dreaming?” Lyra asked.

“Oh, yes,” Sutra Cross said with a smile.

“Wow,” Lyra said. “You're sure?”

“Oh, definitely,” the soft spoken nurse said, examining the movement of the human’s eyes. “Rapid eye movement is almost universal to any sentient life, and it’s one of the best indicators of dreaming.”

The two of them observed the human for a moment, watching his expression shift and his eyes twitch beneath the lids.

“Do you think we could ask Luna to look through his mind?” Lyra asked. “Whatever he’s dreaming about doesn’t look pleasant.”

“No,” Sutra Cross agreed quietly. “And yes, I suspect we’ll be asking the Princess to employ her unique talents in this respect.” She sniffed. “Nicer than some means of learning about him that I can think of.”

Lyra frowned. “You're talking about mind delving. Would that be necessary?”

Sutra Cross sighed. “I don't know. I'd hate to think about it to tell you the truth, but if Redheart’s right and he was attacked by somepony with Guard training, there's rogue Guard out there… or your human friend here is somehow a threat that some guardspony patrol felt the need to try and kill.”

“I can't imagine how,” Lyra commented. “I saw him arrive.”

“Yes,” Sutra Cross agreed. “But from where? Maybe he was attacked wherever he came from?”

“But that's impossible,” Lyra said. “Why would ponies attack him in any part of Equestria?”

“Self-defence?” Sutra Cross suggested with an apologetic expression as Lyra’s eyes hardened. “We don't know anything about this creature…”

Lyra snorted. “And so we’ll assume he’s violent and aggressive right off the bat, that he had to have been the aggressor? It's not nice to make assumptions. We in Ponyville learned that lesson the hard way.”

Sutra Cross nodded sadly. “Yes, I’d heard about Ms Zecora’s less-than-brilliant reception right after I took this position. You're right, of course – we can't make assumptions about a being we don't know.” She gave Lyra a look. “But that works both ways.”

“I know,” Lyra assured her. “That's why I’m keeping my eye on him, and taking notes.”

Sutra Cross motioned to the notepad with an inquisitive expression, and Lyra passed them to her with a smile.

“Interesting,” the nurse said, passing the notes back. “There are a lot of conclusions you could draw…”

“But I’m refraining,” Lyra finished. “Like you said. No assumptions.”

“Quite,” Sutra Cross agreed. “Still, I’m curious – what conclusions could you personally draw?”

Lyra smiled. “I tend to go on a bit – Bon Bon hates it when I go off on one of my ‘lectures’.”

Huh, Lyra thought as she said that. I wonder if I should go tell Bon Bon where I’ve been…actually, I wonder what she’s up to?

Lyra Heartstrings’ residence.

“Lyra!”

Bon Bon was not normally the sort of mare for whom yelling was second nature. In fact, it could hardly be said to be third or even fourth. She didn't like yelling, she didn't like confrontation, and she did not like living with other ponies. When choosing a life for herself after… difficult circumstances had necessitated her moving, these were the things she had wanted to keep in mind.

“Lyra Heartstrings, where the buck are you?!”

So, naturally, she had ended up living with another mare – one who required constant confrontation, needed to be yelled at just to get her to do anything, and to top it off, was generally slovenly at home.

“Where has she gone?” Bon Bon said, more to herself than anypony else.

Shaking her head, Lyra returned her attention to Sutra Cross.

“You sure you wanna hear this?” she asked.

Sutra Cross chuckled. “Before today, I’d never heard of humans, even as myths. Xeno-surgeon or not, I'm more than willing to acknowledge that you probably know more than I do about our new friend.”

Lyra’s smile turned bashful. “Well, sociologically, maybe…”

“Well, society and culture both help define us,” Sutra Cross said. “I’d like to hear what you think.”

“Okay,” Lyra said, taking a breath and forgetting all about telling Bon Bon anything. “Well, the first thing you’ve got to note is…”

Canterlot Palace, Equestria.

It was a relaxing late lunchtime in the capital of Equestria. Princess Celestia was hard at work finalizing preparations and finishing what remained on her plate, pondering the various crises, half-crises and not-quite-crises-yet that still remained for her to deal with.

With the Crystal Empire’s return, and its freedom from Sombra secured shortly thereafter, reintegration was well underway. Given the northerly location and cooler climate of the area, it had seemed only natural to call upon the Reindeer to work with Cadance, and her old mentor had agreed to work with the young Alicorn eagerly.

After all, the Sun Princess though as she finished reading a report regarding the latest Kirin negotiations, Cadance could use the support: she's only young yet. A lot of the responsibility we’ve placed on her shoulders is very heavy.

There was still much to do beyond just that, though: Discord had yet to report back from his mission, and though Fluttershy had vouched for his good intentions and Luna had – after a brief examination – agreed with her, he remained an unknown quantity.

If he fails, we act accordingly, Celestia tried to reassure herself. If he does not… we’re golden.

Her musings were interrupted by a sudden flash of green flame that heralded the arrival of a small scroll. Celestia frowned slightly.

Twilight normally doesn't write to me this early in the day, she thought. She gently levitated the letter up and began reading it, her eyes narrowing as she did so.

Dear Princess Celestia,

A situation has arisen requiring your attention: a kind of being we’ve never encountered has arrived in Ponyville, something we believe to be called a ‘human’. It's injured and currently recuperating in Ponyville Hospital, but we don't know how it came to be injured, or if it is hostile.

We have left the human at the hospital under the care of Lyra Heartstrings until otherwise asked. Any advice on this matter that you may have would be most welcome, as we’re currently working in the dark with this situation.

Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle.

Celestia’s frown deepened. A kind of unknown creature? She'd mapped many different species in her younger days, or seen them mapped by the explorers of the time (she remembered her nephew’s grandfather, Professor Challenger Blueblood, flying his old airship, the Mother of Invention, on a variety of different explorations, before his rather sad slip into believing in some new-age religion or another). Still, something about the name ‘human’ rattled in her subconscious somehow.

She quickly reached for her private quill and scroll reserve, and began drafting a reply.

Ponyville Hospital.

As it turned out, Lyra Heartstrings had a lot of theories, even if she wasn't willing to commit fully to any of them yet.

“...So I’m sure he's from a harsher culture than ours,” she was saying. “Survival gear at minimum means that he's living in a world that’s harsh enough to require it. Then there's the artificial magic. If he's using artificial magic, that must mean they evolved without magic, even the subtler kinds like earthpony magic that we take for granted.”

“Quite,” Sutra Cross nodded thoughtfully. “I can't imagine living without the amenities magic provides.”

“Exactly, which means his society’s not had those amenities,” Lyra continued, “and that means a lot of the control we take for granted, weather, crops, the works, simply does not exist.”

Sutra Cross nodded slowly. “I’m surprised you can deduce and conjecture so much about an essentially mythical race.”

“Well, there's a lot of stuff to sift through,” Lyra said sheepishly.

“I wonder,” Sutra Cross said suddenly, “how did they pick up the slack?”

“What do you mean?” Lyra asked.

“Well, one of the first things I learned was: ‘different doesn’t mean primitive,’” Sutra Cross said. “And the clothes he’s wearing… I don’t even know what this material could possibly be. It's like it's entirely synthetic. I wonder what sciences they must have where he comes from…”

“I guess we can ask him,” Lyra suggested. “When he wakes up?”

“Perhaps,” Sutra Cross said. She checked her clipboard. “I’d best go quickly fill in some paperwork. This is an important case for the hospital – we need as much information noted down.

“Alright,” Lyra said. “I’ll holler if anything changes.”

Sutra Cross pointed at a small red button on the wall and winked at Lyra. “Just press the button, dear. Hollering makes a racket.”

Lyra felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment, but she smiled. And then Sutra Cross was out of the room.

Well, Lyra, she thought to herself, this has been one heck of a day.

She looked to the sleeping human, his eyes still darting about hither and thither beneath his closed lids. She rested a hoof on his bed, hear his arm.

“What have you seen?” she asked softly. “What's your world like? Is it ours, or another? If it's another, is it like ours? Are you one of many races or are you alone? What's the sky like? Or the sea? The stars above your head, or the moon, or the sun… who moves them, without magic? Or do others have magic in your society?” She sighed dreamily. “So much I could ask you when you wake up. So much…”

She moved away – only to feel a soft, hairless grip on her hoof, and a soft voice whispering.

“Lyra…”

Ponyville Library.

It didn't take nearly as long for a reply to arrive as Twilight had expected – but when it arrived, it was far shorter than she had been expecting.

Dear Twilight.

Given what you have described, I have decided to come attend this matter personally. Please return to the hospital and await me at the entrance.

Princess Celestia.

“I've never seen her write such a short letter,” Spike commented. “You think she knows what a human is?”

“If she does, her reaction suggests they are not a good creature to have around,” Rarity said softly. “I mean, listen to the tone of this letter – she sounds… worried.”

“How can you get ‘worried’ from a letter with only two sentences, a salutation and a valediction?” Rainbow asked.

“How do you know what a salutation and a valediction are?” Rarity retorted, raising an eyebrow.

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “I do read, y’know. And you haven't answered the question.”

“Rarity’s right,” Twilight interrupted. “This is brief. She's already on her way. That means she's worried.” She took a breath. “We need to go, now.”

She left the library without another word.

“Well,” Pinkie said calmly. “This is getting to be an eight on the doozy scale.”

She went after Twilight, and soon the rest of the Bearers had followed. Spike was left on his own, blinking in surprise.

“Well,” he said finally. “Darn.”

Ponyville Hospital.

The human’s eyes, deep blue like the sea, were wide and expressive, full of what might have been shock. His expression was one of surprise and… relief?

“You’re awake,” Lyra said softly to him, immediately regretting it and feeling foolish.

The human said nothing for a moment, but his body began shaking and tears were beginning to pool in the corner of his eyes.

“Lyra…” he whispered, staring up at her.

“Yeah,” she replied, still not certain how he knew her. “How d’you…”

“You're here…” he murmured, almost ignoring her. “You… you did it, didn't you? You found a way? Learned some secret… some secret thing?” He looked, for a moment, almost hurt. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I… I don't know what you mean,” Lyra said, frowning at him.

“You… you've come back,” he said to her, eyes widening slightly as he looked at her. “From… from the dead.”

Lyra felt the blood drain from her face. “The dead.”

“You said there was more to know,” the human pressed on, ignoring her expression. “More… beyond what we knew. That's what you told Hiro. I didn’t… you never said you'd learned the secret.”

Lyra blinked. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

The human frowned. “Is this… are you… you made it back… okay, didn't you? Or… did you…”

“I really don’t know what you're talking about!” Lyra insisted. “I’ve never been dead.”

The human’s eyes widened. “Oh… oh no.” He paused. “This… you're not… did you forget, or…”

“I’ve never been dead,” Lyra insisted again.

The human’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What… day is it? The date!”

“It's May 2nd,” Lyra said slowly.

“The year,” the human insisted, his voice getting stronger. “Is it the Anno Imperator or is it still Era Harmonia?!”

Lyra frowned. “Anno what? It's the third year Era Harmonia, I’ve never heard of an ‘Anno Imperator’.”

The human blinked. “I have to go. Right now.”

“Go? Go where?!” Lyra asked.

The human’s certainty seemed to slip away. “I…. I don’t know. I don't even know where I am.”

“Ponyville hospital,” Lyra said quietly. “You were injured when you arrived, so we -”

The human bolted up. “Ponyville?!”

Lyra skittered back in shock, and the human held up one of his hands in what might have been a placating gesture.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I just… here, of all places…” he looked at his hands as though surprised they were still there, then – to Lyra’s surprise – he chuckled. “Well, damn, so many people are gonna laugh when they hear about this. Turns out the bitch was...” He suddenly growled. “Lying. For years. Fucking evil monster…”

“I don't understand what you're talking about,” Lyra said, stepping back at the sheer vehemence of his words.

The human looked up at her, and seemed to calm down. “It would take too long to explain… all I know is, I'm somewhere I’m not supposed to be, and there are… a hell of a lot of bad things that are about to happen to you, if I’m right.”

“If you're right?” Lyra asked.

“Yeah,” the human said. He frowned. “The second of May… the third year Era Harmonia, you said? Alright – I need to know a few things.”

“Why?” Lyra asked.

“Because I’m possibly from your future,” the human told her bluntly, “and it's full of terrible things. But maybe – just maybe – I can prevent those things from happening.”

Canterlot.

Celestia stared out at the horizon as the sun began slowly rising, concentrating as best she could. She had spent the night reading as much as resting, looking up ‘humans’ as best she could, but those researches – apart from brief mentions in books about cryptozoology – had been frustratingly lacking in anything useful.

“You're sure you want to go without me?” Luna asked quietly. “This could be more complex than we realise, a harbinger of -”

“We will know,” Celestia interrupted tightly, “what it is a harbinger of soon enough. And I would not place both of us at risk when we don't know what this creature is capable of.”

“I prefer to have your back,” Luna said quietly.

Celestia smiled at her. “You do have my back – who do you think I’m relying on to come save me when this all goes horribly wrong?”

“You’re funny,” Luna said with a chuckle, but it faded quickly. “Be careful.”

“I always am,” Celestia said.

Ponyville Hospital.

The human had listened to Lyra rattle off historical events without so much as batting an eyelid – the Elements of Harmony, the return of Princess Luna, Discord’s brief return…

When she had mentioned Discord’s recent reappearance and – according to local gossip – redemption, the human had frowned slightly, but he hadn't said anything, still. By this point, Lyra had been able to tell that his injuries were once more taking a toll on him, as he had started looking fatigued – his eyelids were dropping slightly, and his head was nodding.

“So,” he finally said, words slurring. “There's been no… no conflict.”

“That's right,” Lyra said. “Should there have been?”

The human waved the question off. “This… this shit’s more complex than I ever cared to learn about. There was a guy I met once or twice, who rattled off crap about time travel and multiverse theory ‘til he was blue in the face, and Doc Whooves had a few opinions…”

“Look,” Lyra said, frowning slightly at his language, “you're still injured, and you're tired. You need to -”

“I need to go!” the human argued back vehemently. “This… this whole thing is impossible. I need to find a way to get back to… back to where I came from.”

And with that, he moved to stand up, wincing as he did so. As Lyra watched, he began limping out of the hospital room, almost at a snail’s pace. Lyra followed, uncertain what to do. Should she try to stop him, or would that only enrage him? That brief glimmer of anger he had regretted… it had been worrying.

Almost immediately, nurses and doctors stopped what they were doing to watch the human walk out, many of them too shocked to react.

“Uh, sir?” one of the nurses managed. “You… you should be in bed…”

The human simply ignored the nurse and pressed on, Lyra following cautiously.

“What should we do?” the nurse asked in a hushed whisper.

Lyra pondered for a moment, uncertain how to respond to the question. Before taking a deep breath and sighing.

“Get everypony out of his way,” she said calmly. “I don’t know if he's dangerous, but it’s best not to take any chances.”

The nurse nodded and dashed off, whispering hurried instructions to others as she went. Lyra went after the human, whose pace had managed to increase a modicum. She hoped he wouldn't hurt himself – or indeed, anypony else.

Outside Ponyville Hospital.

Twilight and the other Element Bearers arrived at the hospital in no short order, and Twilight found herself feeling an acute sense of anxiety. There was definitely something more to all of this, and Celestia’s brevity in her letter confirmed it.

“How long do you think it will take the Princess to get here?” Rarity asked Twilight.

“Not long, hopefully,” Twilight replied. “I mean, this whole thing’s feeling more and more… ominous. Don't you feel that?”

Rainbow Dash looked distinctly unhappy. “It’s the Death Tree, I bet. That thing’s cursed us with some monster.”

Twilight scowled. “Rainbow Dash, that’s really not helpful.”

“Well, you’re getting an ‘ominous feeling’,” she pointed out. “You are. The mare of rationality.”

“There’s nothing irrational about the evidence pointing towards a less-than-pleasant conclusion,” Twilight said grimly. “Some unknown creature we’ve never heard of appears, injured and suffering spell-damage it could only have taken from a Royal Guard. Now Princess Celestia feels the need to come here personally. That alone should be setting off warning bells.”

“Plus the doozy’s hitting eight point five,” Pinkie chimed in helpfully, a shiver running through her body as she spoke. “Definitely gettin’ closer!”

Before anypony could say anything else, there was a gust of wind. The group looked up, to see Princess Celestia, alabaster wings glimmering in the sunlight, landing near them gracefully.

“Princess,” Twilight said, bowing, the others following suit. “I hope this isn't an inconvenience.”

“Not at all,” Celestia said quietly. “You've done well with an extraordinary circumstance, Twilight. You should be proud of how you've handled yourselves.”

“What do we do now, your highness?” Fluttershy asked.

Celestia looked pensive for a moment. “That, I’m not sure about. First, I have to examine this ‘human’ myself to see what we’re dealing with.”

“Well, that’ll be easy,” Pinkie said, pointing behind her. “Since he's standing right there.”

Celestia’s eyes widened. The other Element Bearers gasped in shock, and the Princess turned, to see the bipedal figure of the human standing right there, his own expression somewhere between horror and disbelief.

“You,” the human snarled, teeth bared and body shaking. Despite the bandages and the clear injuries, the rage in his face was more than enough to make him look quite threatening. But what got Twilight’s attention the most was the strange, subtle blue glow of… some kind of magic surrounding him. “You lying little murderous bitch… I’ve been dreaming of this moment for years- agh!!”

He keeled over and clutched his side, and behind him came Lyra Heartstrings.

He was angry again: Lyra could practically feel waves of anger roiling around him, even as she took note of the barely-perceptible glowing that had flared up for a moment.

“Sir,” Princess Celestia began, “whomever and whatever you are, I can assure you -”

“Your… assurances… can go… to hell…” the human hissed. “This… this is the past… or another past… but you…”

Celestia glanced at Lyra, who shook her head subtly. The human was in no condition to attack anyone, but that didn't mean he wasn't still dangerous in some way.

“I don't know what you have seen,” Celestia said slowly, “but I don't mean any harm to you. None of us do.”

“No, you don't, do you,” the human sneered, pushing himself to his feet. “You just want to fix us. Make us more like you.”

What does he mean? Lyra thought, frowning in confusion. He claimed to be from the future, but this doesn't sound…

“But I said it before, and I meant it,” the human continued, breaking Lyra’s chain of thought. “You won't change me, Tyrant Sun.” He raised his chin slightly, and gave an almost ironic grin. “I am Alexander Reiner. And I am human.”

His glow started up again, and there was a slow rumble, the ground trembling beneath Lyra’s hooves. She looked up at the human and saw his expression was somewhere between beatific and pained. Celestia’s eyes widened for a moment in shock -

And then, like a light switch going out, the human simply collapsed, a trickle of blood running from his nose. At once, Lyra moved to his side, checking his pulse.

“What happened?” Twilight said, trotting up to her, the other Element Bearers and the Princess close behind.

“I don't know,” Lyra admitted. “I don't know what he was trying to do.”

“He was trying a sort of self-combusting spell,” Celestia said grimly. “He was attempting to destroy himself, but the power must have knocked him out in his weakened state.”

“De-destroy himself?” Twilight repeated. “But… but why?”

“Hatred,” Celestia said softly, looking down at the human with a sad, yet compassionate and also confused, expression. “He was consumed by hatred… for me, all of us.” She paused. “But I've never seen anything like him before.”

Lyra coughed. “Your highness, he claimed to be from the future.”

Celestia looked slowly up from the human, a frown of puzzlement working its way onto her face. “The future.”

Lyra swallowed. “Yes, your highness.”

Celestia nodded slowly. “Alright then, Ms Heartstrings.” She looked at the unconscious human with a bemused frown. “For now, we shall get this being back into the hospital. Afterwards…” She sighed. “I shall return to Canterlot tonight, but tomorrow… tomorrow, I want you to all to meet me here, and tell me everything.”

Nurse Redheart’s Residence, Ponyville, 3rd May.

There was a loud banging coming from somewhere, and Nurse Redheart groaned as she pulled herself from her bed. It couldn't have been later than 8am in the morning, and her shift usually didn't start today until 12 at the earliest.

It took her a minute to realise that the banging was coming from her front door. She sighed – maybe there was some emergency that required everypony to come in. With a frown, she considered the possibility that it could even have been something to do with the mysterious human.

“Yes?!” she called out. “Who is it?”

The banging stopped for a moment, and then resumed. Frowning, Redheart went to her door and pulled the door open, only to find that there was nopony there.

“Well, that’s mature,” she muttered irritably. But even as she said it, she felt a chill run down her spine.

This wasn’t a prank – something felt off. Her old Guard instincts were twinging beneath her skin, making it crawl, and she tended up.

“Is somepony out there?” she called.

Nopony answered, and so Redheart slowly stepped back from the open doorway and closed the door. She turned around – only to find herself facing…

…herself?

“What?” she whispered. The doppelgänger was identical to her, save for a hard, grim expression. She wore a muddy scarlet cloak over her body inscribed with what might have been the symbol of the Eighth Home Guard, Redheart’s old regiment. “Who…?”

The doppelgänger moved, bringing her hoof up and jamming something sharp into Redheart’s neck. She blinked, before slumping to the floor, feeling her strength leave her.

Sedative, she thought idly as a familiar feeling snaked through her system. She looked up at her copy, who was looking down at her with an almost apologetic expression, and then she knew no more.

Edited 13/04/2020

“Colonel Von Luger, it is the sworn duty of all officers to try to escape. If they cannot escape, then it is their sworn duty to cause the enemy to use an inordinate number of troops to guard them, and their sworn duty to harass the enemy to the best of their ability.”
Ramsey, The Great Escape.

Ponyville Hospital, 3rd May, Year 3 Era Harmonia, 12:09.

Princess Celestia had been as good as her word, returning bright and early the next day to try and figure out what was happening. The human had been moved back into his bed, where he lay unconscious. Celestia stood by the bed, observing him with a frown, the others also in the room with her.

“… And then he tried to leave,” Lyra finished. “I couldn’t convince him not to – it was all I could do to get the nurses to keep everypony out of his way.”

She had explained everything she could about what had happened, from the human’s arrival to the events of his attempted escape, with choice interjections from the others as she went. It was all she could do to keep her head from nodding and her eyes from drifting closed: she had barely slept last night, knowing what had nearly happened.

And as for talking to Bon Bon about it… well, she had not been very happy with Lyra, to say the least.

The previous night…

“You mean to tell me that you’ve been out all day, nearly getting blown up, finding a dangerous creature, and you’re going back to the hospital tomorrow to spend more time with it?!”

Lyra winced at Bon Bon’s angry diatribe. “Uh… sorry?”

“Sorry?! Sorry?!” Bon Bon was practically spitting in rage, her eyes wide and her teeth bared in a snarl.

“Bon Bon, what was I supposed to do?” Lyra asked desperately. “Just let this human die? Leave this to somepony else? This is one of my biggest dreams ever.”

“You…” Bon Bon sighed, and suddenly seemed to deflate entirely. “You know what? Whatever. Fine. Sure.”

Lyra blinked. “Seriously?”

Bon Bon growled. “Well, it’s not like I can bucking stop you, is it?”

Lyra sighed and returned her attention to the present. Bon Bon would calm down. Eventually.

“You did very well, given the circumstances,” Celestia said to her with a smile. She turned back to the human. “This… being… certainly brings with him his fair share of questions.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Applejack muttered. At Celestia’s amused glance, she blushed. “Er, your highness.”

“No, it’s quite alright, Applejack,” Celestia said softly. “There is a great deal at stake here. No doubt you’re worried.”

“Uh, beggin’ your pardon, your highness, but darn straight,” Applejack said, stumbling over the oath. “All this stuff is mighty peculiar.”

“It is at that,” Celestia said solemnly.

“Do you think he could be from the future, Princess?” Twilight asked, looking between the Princess and the unconscious human.

“I think there are so many possibilities that trying to determine which one of them is the truth would be a difficult proposition,” Celestia replied, still looking at the human. She glanced up at Lyra. “I am curious about one thing, though, Ms Heartstrings.”

“Um, yes?” Lyra asked. “Uh, your highness?”

“How did you come to learn of the legend of humans?” Celestia asked her. “It was obscure even in my youth.”

“Oh,” Lyra said, scratching the back of her head. “Well… I just, uh… read some books.”

“‘Read some books’,” Celestia repeated with a smirk. “Some of the most obscure books in our various libraries, I might point out.”

“I dunno,” Lyra admitted, “it just… the idea of humans always seemed to be this story that drew my attention. Like it was just this old legend in its own right that I couldn’t help but find fascinating.” She sighed. “I used to dream about it. All sorts of stuff…”

“And now you’re face to face with one of your dreams,” Celestia said. “Treasure that while you can, Ms Heartstrings, for it happens to very few ponies.”

Lyra nodded. “I will, your highness.”

Snapping her attention back to the ponies, Celestia smiled again, this time clearly trying to be reassuring.

“For now, my little ponies, I suspect we will need to let the human – this Alexander Reiner – rest again.” She turned to Twilight. “Twilight, you and your friends should go home and do the same. If this business brings with it more complications, we will all need to be at our best.”

“May I stay with him?” Lyra asked, looking at the sleeping human. “I… feel like I should. Or that somepony should.”

Celestia nodded. “Yes. I suspect it is best if you do. From what you said, he is less likely to respond with hostility to you.”

“Excuse me?” a voice asked from behind them, and the group turned to see Nurse Redheart standing in the doorway. “Is the patient needing anything?”

“No, the human’s sleeping for now,” Twilight told her. “Sorry – Alexander Reiner is sleeping now.”

“I see,” Redheart said, approaching and checking the chart. “Have we come any closer to learning if he's tolerant of any medicines?”

“Not yet, no,” Lyra said with a smile. “He… uh, well, he yelled more than he said anything about medicine.”

“Of course he did,” Redheart muttered. At everypony’s questioning expressions, she glanced up and smiled. “Nopony’s ever thinking about medication when they're confused. Why should a… human... be any different in that regard?”

“Nopony likes taking medicine,” Pinkie said sagely. “They all think it’s icky or overpriced, or they think it’s part of some giant conspiracy by corporations.”

Redheart blinked, before chuckling. “Well, I’ve no idea what sort of corporations a human might know, but I’m fairly certain he’s really ill.” She paused. “Did the xenosurgeon have any ideas about treatment?”

Lyra frowned slightly. “Nurse Sutra didn’t want to risk anything without knowing more about his anatomy: she didn’t think she could approximate.”

“I see,” Redheart said with a smile. “Well, I’ll leave you all to it, then – unless you require anything further, Princess?”

Celestia shook her head. “Thank you, Nurse.”

Redheart paused, glancing at the human again. “One thing, your highness, if I may.”

“Of course,” Celestia said amiably.

“I heard about the human’s… escape attempt, yesterday,” Redheart said delicately. “Under the circumstances, may I recommend posting additional security?”

“The human didn’t harm anypony, and he wouldn’t have harmed anypony who didn’t get in his way,” Lyra protested at once.

“He did seem rather… focused in his ill-intent,” Celestia said with a raised eyebrow. “It does not seem as though he intends random violence.”

“Forgive me if what you’re saying doesn’t reassure me, your highness,” Redheart said with a wry smile of her own. “I just think, in the interests of security, a few more guards wouldn’t go amiss.”

“That would potentially put their lives at risk,” Celestia told her. “If you’re wrong, he may not harm ponies who do not stand in his way, but he may be less inclined to view Guardsponies favourably. Equally, if he is a threat, he may well consider them more favourable targets.”

“We exist to serve, risk and all,” Redheart said at once, as though speaking from rote.

Celestia smiled. “Careful you don’t get too caught up in the old instincts, Redheart. You just referred to yourself alongside the Guard, present tense.”

Redheart blushed. “I’m sorry. This… like I said, reminds me of the old days.”

“It’s quite alright,” Celestia said with a soft chuckle. “I feel more comfortable leaving him as he is, for now, knowing that there are ponies like yourself maintaining vigilance on the matter.”

Redheart bowed. “You have no idea how much I appreciate that, your highness.” She straightened. “If you’ll excuse me.”

With that, she left the room. Lyra frowned slightly as she left.

“She seems a little less welcoming than she did yesterday,” she commented.

“Well, the human did escape and then threaten to blow himself – and us – up,” Rarity said, almost dismissively. “It doesn’t seem beyond the realms of possibility that she’s simply more cautious now.”

Lyra nodded, but still couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling.

“I must speak with Luna about all of this,” Celestia eventually said. “We shall convene at the hospital again in three hours. That should give everypony time to rest a little and hopefully prepare for whatever comes next.” She sighed. “Hopefully when we reconvene, we’ll be able to learn more of the truth of this matter.”

“We’ll be here, Princess,” Twilight promised.

Celestia nodded. “Until then, Twilight.”

Without another word, she strode out of the room. Rarity, Applejack and Rainbow Dash followed her.

“Hey, Lyra,” Pinkie said, smiling at her. “Make sure to ask Alexander Reiner what he likes in a party. I want to plan a ‘welcome to Ponyville slash Equestria slash our dimensional plane’ party, but I can’t do that if I don’t know what he likes.”

“It’ll be one of the first things I ask,” Lyra promised.

“Thanks!” Pinkie said. She paused. “Oh, and try to ask him how to spell ‘Alexander Reiner’. I don’t want to misspell it. Ponies find that rude – humans probably would too.”

Lyra chuckled. “I’ll find out for you.”

Pinkie smiled, before following the others, leaving Fluttershy and Twilight behind. Fluttershy withdrew a small jar of jam from her saddlebag.

“I made this for him,” she said softly. “I thought it might… y’know, help him.” She smiled. “It’s always nice to try and help however we can.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate the thought, Fluttershy,” Lyra said, looking back at the human with a frown of worry. “If he wakes up any time soon, that is.”

“I’m sure he will,” Fluttershy said kindly. “Nurse Redheart and the other staff will do their very best, I’m sure.”

With that, she left the room, following after the others, leaving only Twilight and Lyra alone with the sleeping human.

“Y’know,” Twilight said, “I never thought something like this would happen to you. You were always an eccentric, but…”

“But I was a pretty dull eccentric,” Lyra said, not unkindly. “No adventures or cataclysms, just weird lectures or making a fool of myself parties.”

“Yeah.” Twilight’s tone was apologetic. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will,” Lyra replied. “Don’t worry, Twi. Everything will be fine, I’m sure.”

Twilight gave her a small smile. “I wish I had your confidence, Lyra.”

And then she, too, left the room, leaving Lyra alone with the unconscious Alexander Reiner.

Well, Lyra thought, sighing. This should be interesting.

“So what's the score,” Applejack said with a snort as the Element bearers walked out of the hospital. “There's a weird creature called a human, some hints o’ somethin’ less than pretty on the horizon… I miss anythin’?”

“The fact that Princess Celestia’s taken a personal interest,” Rarity pointed out.

“Right,” Applejack drawled. “Well, this is gonna be all sorts o’ fun.”

“I’m still hoping this is just like last time,” Twilight said, looking tired and apprehensive.

“Uh, what last time?” Applejack asked.

“You know,” Pinkie put in, “the last time we saw somepony…”

“Or ‘some being”,” Twilight corrected.

“... from the future appear, seemingly after a world-destroying event, and we all panicked and then it turned out to be nothing!” Pinkie said. “Even if Twi looked awesome.”

Twilight sighed. “Please don’t remind me of that. My eye hurt for weeks. And I was such a mess.”

“Yeah, a ragged, ‘post apocalypse chic’ mess!” Pinkie countered.

“There's a ‘post apocalypse chic’?” Twilight asked.

“Oh, you'd be surprised,” Rarity chuckled. “Post-apocalypse, steampunk, raggedy chic, distressed denims…”

“That definitely sounds like the time Twilight went back in time,” Pinkie said with a chuckle.

“I was definitely a mess,” Twilight chuckled.

There was a long pause, and the group’s levity faded after a long moment.

“This entire scenario is… unsettling, to be sure,” Rarity said quietly, “but I’m certain we’ll be able to solve it.”

“Sure we will,” Applejack put in. “We solve everythin’ else, don't we?”

“Yeah, well, something tells me this’ll be different,” Rainbow Dash put in. “I still think that Death Tree was an omen.”

“Will you give your blasted ‘death tree’ nonsense a rest?” Rarity asked irritably. “It was a tree. An ugly tree, but a tree.”

“They have been known to appear at times of great upheaval,” Fluttershy said quietly.

“Let’s try not to worry about it, okay?” Twilight asked. “We’ve got enough things in our plate without ‘Death Trees’.”

Damnation, but this place is uncanny.

Redheart was sat at a bench outside the hospital. For the moment, she could relax: her shift allowed for a brief break. She took a swig of her hip-flask, wincing at the sour taste. To think – for a decade before the war, for all the years that she’d been the simple nurse of Ponyville, she'd given up alcohol. And here she was: back on the bottle.

Stress of the time, Red, stress of the time, she thought wryly, her thoughts taking the voice of one of her old colleagues. We all need something to get us through the day. Especially dealing with the Princess.

Damnation, but that had nearly caught her off guard. She’d forgotten how patient and kind the Princess had been, before the stresses of war had taken their toll. She was only lucky that the thought of there being other versions of ponies had yet to occur to this Celestia, that the idea of spies had not crossed her mind.

But it will, soon, she thought grimly. I can't slip up again.

“Redheart?” she heard a voice ask. “Are you alright?”

Redheart blinked at the address. She looked up to see Sutra Cross sitting across from her, a sympathetic smile on her face, and for a moment she felt her heart skip.

“Uh, I’m fine,” she said, trying to ignore the sense of nausea when she saw her old friend: what had happened to Sutra Cross was a cautionary tale for the ages. “Why do you ask?”

“The drink,” she said, motioning to Redheart’s flask.

Redheart smiled wryly. “Just… nerves. This reminds me too much of military service.”

Half truths work better than outright lies, she remembered the spy training saying.

“Unknown creatures with unknown medical needs?” Sutra Cross asked.

“Could say that,” Redheart chuckled.

“I get that feel,” Cross said. “Never seen anything like him.”

“I'm sure you'll acclimatise quickly,” Redheart said sincerely. You did before, sweet naive Sutra. And that... she almost winced at the bite she felt in her thoughts. Look where that got you.

“I hope so,” Sutra Cross said. “I want to do the best I can for him.”

Redheart felt her mood sour. “How do you know he's worth it?”

“What do you mean?” Cross asked.

“We don't know anything about this species,” Redheart pointed out. Or you don’t. “We don't know what they're like, what they believe. You saw his omnivore incisors, I take it?”

“I took note, yes,” Sutra Cross said with a nod. “But we’re healers and he's a patient. Even if it was Grogar himself sat in that bed, the words of our Hippocratic oath matter.” She took a breath. “I swear, by all the Princesses…”

“...in whatsoever place that I enter, I will enter to help the sick and heal the injured,” Redheart finished, nodding slowly. “And I will do no harm.”

“Whatsoever place, and whatsoever people, even these humans,” Sutra finished. “Healing the sick isn't something that's just for ponies. It's for every creature. That's why I’m here.”

Redheart smiled. “I wish I had your idealism.”

“It's easy to have idealism,” Cross said. “Just stop worrying about the things that could go wrong. Focus on what you hope to be, hope to do. Even if it goes wrong… you were true to yourself.”

Redheart’s smile wavered slightly. “That's a good ideal.”

Sutra Cross smiled back, before looking at her watch.

“I'd better go,” she said softly. “Still technically on shift for another half hour.”

She trotted off, leaving Redheart alone to contemplate her words.

‘i will do no harm’, indeed. How long has it been since I first broke that. Another, more unwelcome thought crossed her mind. Was it worth it?

She shook her head. If she kept thinking things like that, she’d have to submit herself to the Loyalty Guard when she got home, and that wouldn’t be fun for anypony. Sighing, she returned her attention to the question at hoof: What to do about Reiner.

But her mind kept returning to the Hippocratic oath.

I will do no harm.

Ponyville Hospital. 14:15.

“So, uh… I'll have a lot of questions for you, when you wake up. You, uh… well you've changed a lot about what we understand, and we don't understand, and… Sorry. I sound like an idiot.”

Lyra was talking to the human in his sleep. It felt less stupid to her than it might have sounded, but that wasn't much of a margin.

“I mean, your name for example. I don't understand it. It doesn't seem to have any meaning. And yet you're speaking perfect Equestrian. So are your names meaningless, or do your names have special meanings? What -”

“Do you think you could keep it down?” a groaning voice spoke, and then the human was staring at her. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“Oh!” Lyra said. “Sorry, I -”

“No, no, it's fine,” he said, waving a hand (Hands, Lyra!). “Can sleep when I’m dead.” He smiled at her. “Honestly, I missed the babbling, as well. It's the little things. Y’know?”

“You… you missed it,” Lyra repeated.

Alexander Reiner nodded. “Yeah…”

“Because… because I'm dead,” Lyra said softly. “Right?”

“Yeah,” Alexander Reiner said. “Right.”

There was a long pause.

“So, uh… what do I call you?” Lyra asked.

Reiner frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Well, you said your name was ‘Alexander Reiner’, right?” Lyra said. “I mean, is that a name we use in full, or is it common to address you as…”

“Alex,” the human said softly. “You can call me Alex.”

“Alex?” Lyra asked. “A… diminutive of your first name?”

Alexander – Alex – gave a dry chuckle. “That's exactly what you said the first time. But actually, it’s one of several you could potentially use.” He shrugged. “I just always preferred it. My stepdad used to call me Xander. Fucked me right off.”

Lyra winced. “R-right.”

He frowned. “You okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah, just… the profanity is a little… profane.”

“Oh.” To her surprise, he started chuckling again. “Y’know, you used to say that, too.”

Lyra laughed a little too. “Well, I’m, uh… glad to bring back positive memories?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, his smile fading. “Shame they weren't all that nice.”

He sighed, before frowning at a small jar that had been left on his bedside table. Lyra recognised it as the jar of jam Fluttershy had left.

“What the hell’s this?” he asked, holding up the jar with a dubious expression.

Lyra blinked. “Uh… it's a jar of jam.”

The human pursed his lips slightly. “A jar. Of jam.”

“Yeah.”

“I see.” He looked at the jar. “And, uh, who left it here?”

“Fluttershy,” Lyra said softly. “She… uh, she thought it would be a nice… well, a nice gesture. Sort of.”

The human snickered slightly, before putting it down. “A nice gesture. I suppose it doesn't have any potion in it.”

“Any… what?” Lyra replied, frowning. “It's… as far as I know, it's just… y’know. Jam.”

“Just jam,” the human said. “Jesus. Now I've seen everything. Three weeks ago the yellow terror was leading terror raiding attacks on towns in the Midwest and I had to rely on Munro and his fucking crazy HLF friends to deal with it. Now I've got jam.” He chuckled, a harsh and weary sound. “Tell me something – is this shit even real?”

“Uh… excuse me?” Lyra asked. “What… I mean…”

“Am I actually here or am I drooling in a padded cell somewhere?” the human said, speaking in a clearer voice. “It's not a trick question.”

“I… think it's real,” Lyra said, smiling nervously. “I mean, I know I would say that, but…”

“Nah,” the human said, “I figured it was. Just…” He sighed, running a hand over his short hair. “Let's just say, there have been more than a few moments over the last few years that just sort of make you go ‘what the fucking hell’, y’know?”

Lyra nodded, even though in truth she wasn't sure she understood at all.

“Might almost be nice to have gone crazy,” Alex said, and something about the forced conversational tone in his voice made Lyra think of watching someone holding a scared dog by the tail. “Sure, mind’s gone, but at least I don’t have to think about all of this.”

“I… I'm not sure that's…” Lyra began, before swallowing. “You… I don't think you're insane.”

“Nice to know,” Alex said with a deadpan smirk. “The dead mare doesn't think I'm crazy.”

“I'm not dead, here,” Lyra pointed out. “There's something… weird going on, but you're not crazy, I'm not dead, and… I dunno, maybe we’ll be able to help you.”

“‘Help’ me, sure,” Alex said with a snort. “You, maybe. The rest of them…”

He trailed off.

“So,” Lyra said after a moment, hoping to break the silence. “I, uh... had a few questions.”

Alex sighed, but he gave a good natured smile. “You did before, too.” He yawned, covering his mouth, before smiling at her again. “Alright then, Ms Heartstrings. Shoot.”

“Okay,” Lyra said, before taking a breath. “How do you spell your name?”

Alex blinked, before he started laughing.

Ponyville Hospital. 15:09.

When Twilight and her friends returned to the hospital, Princess Celestia was already conversing with Princess Luna outside.

“Ah, little ponies,” the Princess of the Night said, smiling at them as they trotted up. “It is good to see you here.”

“Princess Luna,” Twilight greeted. “I’m glad you’re here, too. This… this situation… it’s a little bit beyond us.”

“Don’t worry,” Luna assured her. “We will discover the truth of it together.”

“Meet us inside and we will discuss this further, my friends,” Celestia said to them.

Twilight and the others nodded, and then entered the hospital, murmuring amongst themselves.

“Luna,” Celestia murmured as the others walked in. “Two other brief matters before we deal with this human business.”

Luna turned. “What?”

“Firstly, have you informed Cadance?” Celestia asked.

Luna nodded. “Last night. I asked her to contact Prince Blueblood about the matter as well.”

Celestia smirked. “I seem to recall I asked you to speak with Astron.”

“Well, one thing that a Princess must do with grace is delegate,” Luna said coyly. “And thus, I delegated.”

“Of course you did,” Celestia said, tutting. “One of these days, you’re going to have to remember that Prince Blueblood is still family.”

“Perhaps, but that does not mean I have to like him,” Luna retorted. She paused. “What was the other matter?”

Celestia’s expression turned more serious.

“Is there any word yet from Discord?” she asked, speaking softly. “He should have reported in some time ago.”

Luna sighed. “A brief message three days ago concerning carnivorous sawhorses attacking a village. He cited it as positive evidence that he was close to the lair Kontagion has been working from.”

“We’re fortunate, then, that we were able to convince Discord to aid us in tracking Kontagion down,” Celestia said quietly. “Still… this situation feels as though it will require his assistance sooner than I would like.”

“You think so?” Luna asked. “Do you anticipate this being… that bad?”

“All the evidence we have gathered so far implies it could be, thus I must presume the worst,” Celestia pointed out. “I would rather be prepared for the worst than not. After all, it’s better to have a hammer and not need it…”

“... than need the hammer but not have it, just to stub your hoof on the nail,” Luna finished the old Kirin proverb with a nod. “Agreed. Even so, to think this is so bad that it should require Discord’s aid…”

“Let us first discern what we can here,” Celestia said, holding up a hoof. “And then act accordingly.”

“Agreed,” Luna said quietly. She paused. “Do you think Discord can defeat him?”

Celestia sighed. “They’re kin, those two. If anything can defeat Kontagion, Discord can. And if he can’t… we’ll have to hope the Elements can contain him.”

“Indeed,” Luna said quietly. After a moment she spoke again. “Discord sounded confident in his message, if that helps.”

Celestia snorted. “Discord always does.”

“… and that’s fun?” Lyra asked, eyes wide.

“Well, not always exactly fun,” Alex said with a shrug. “I mean, it’s meant to be enjoyable for both parties. But it can also be painful sometimes if you do it wrong or you’re just not good at it.”

Lyra shook her head. “I’d heard about boxing before, when I studied the Minotaurs, but I never thought about it being fun. I mean, they do it as a ritualistic thing.”

Alex shrugged. “Like I said, I took it up when I was a kid. It was a pretty good way of getting some of the aggression out.” He sighed. “That was before… a lot of things. I’ve got different ways of getting aggression out now.”

Lyra nodded slowly. This wasn’t the first time he’d cut himself off before revealing ‘too much’.

“So… what is happening where you’re from?” she asked. “You’ve mentioned it, but never elaborated.”

Alex gave her an unhappy look. “It’s… crap. Let’s leave it at that. Trust me when I say, it’s not something you can do anything about.”

“You know, you say that,” Lyra said softly, “but I’m sure that there's more to it than you're letting on. The way you acted towards the Princess, for example.” At Alex’s unhappy glower, she pressed on. “And we can't help if -”

“You can't help,” Alex cut her off. “Period. And I don't really want your help.”

Lyra frowned. “But -”

“But, nothing,” Alex said. He sighed. “You got fucked up once before.” Lyra winced but he ignored it. “I won't watch you all get fucked up again.”

“But if you told us -” Lyra began.

Alex held up a hand. “I… I don't know. I still don't know what's going on – whether this is the past, or a parallel universe, or…” He chuckled. “Gonna be honest, I might sort’ve get this shit, but my sci-fi knowledge isn't exactly at ‘ultra technobabble level’.”

Lyra smiled sadly. “Well, I'm sure we can -”

Before she could finish, the door to the room opened, and Alex tensed as Celestia stepped in, the Element bearers and Princess Luna behind her. Alex’s eyes moved to her and widened slightly, but he said nothing.

“Alexander Reiner,” she said quietly, inclining her head. “It's good to finally speak with you, and I am grateful we can do so in a quieter setting.”

Alex looked from Luna to Celestia, and back to Luna again, a scowl slowly forming on his face.

“You’ll forgive me if I’m not entirely comfortable speaking with you,” he said quietly. “As you can imagine, there's… history.”

Celestia nodded slowly. “It is in search of answers about that history that we’ve come.”

Alex frowned. “You gonna interrogate me?”

“Nothing so crude,” Princess Luna put in. “If you'll permit, I will conduct a mind delve spell with the Element bearers. Inside your mind we will find the answers we seek.”

“A mind delve,” Alex repeated. “Forgive me if I'm wrong, since God knows this stuff isn’t exactly my area of expertise, but I've never heard good things about those.”

“They are potentially hazardous to those who make the journey, but only if they are not prepared or they perform the delve in an unsafe place,” Luna explained. “I would hope that we are prepared, and this hospital is as safe a place as they come.”

Alex snorted. “You may think so. I don't.”

“It really is,” Fluttershy put in, approaching him slowly. Lyra held up a hoof but Fluttershy ignored it. “I know you're hurting, but we really do just want to help.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed. “Where have I heard that before.”

Fluttershy gave her sweetest smile. “I… I don't know what happened to you… but I know I want to help. That we all want to help.”

Alex looked at Lyra, who smiled encouragingly, before he looked to the jam jar. He picked it up.

“Here, take this,” he said quietly. “‘Predicate the thought, but I'm not all that much of a jam fan.”

Fluttershy stepped forward hesitantly, before reaching out a hoof to the jam.

The next moment was a blur. Alex was suddenly out of the bed, his arm around Fluttershy’s throat. His tattoos were glowing slightly, only dimly, but resolutely there. The jam fell to the floor almost in slow motion, before cracking on the floor, the lid rolling away and the jam spilling on the floor.

“So,” Alex said slowly, looking Celestia dead in the eye. “Answers it is. I can live with answers. I’d quite like a few myself.”

“In a nightmare, every choice you make is a wrong one.”
Max Payne, Max Payne 2: The Fall of Max Payne.

Lyra Heartstrings’ Residence, May 3rd, Year 3 Era Harmonia.

Bon Bon was weeding her front garden, trying to take her mind off of how aggravating she found her partner. She wasn’t doing very well at it.

Because of course she found a mysterious creature, and of course she’s going to be staying in the hospital to look after it. Why not? Ugh.

Bon Bon wasn’t mad, per se. Being mad would imply that this sort of thing hadn’t happened before, that she hadn’t been left waiting for Lyra to come back from some midnight lecture or animal watching session a hundred times before.

“Why do I put up with that mare?” she pondered aloud.

“Because you love her?” a voice asked.

Bon Bon looked up, to see Derpy Hooves standing over her, the grey mare smiling.

“Oh, hello Derpy,” Bon Bon said softly. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, not too bad,” Derpy replied, her wall eyes focusing ever so slightly more. “The Doc’s not feeling too well.”

Bon Bon frowned. “Oh? what’s wrong with him?”

Derpy shrugged. “Kept going on about having a headache, said it meant that some event with four dimensional fallout was coming.”

Bon Bon snorted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Not sure,” Derpy admitted, “but it’s got us all on edge.” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s nothing, though. He can get a little… twitchy, sometimes.”

Bon Bon gave a small nod. “That, I totally get. Mine’s totally the same.”

“Yeah,” Derpy said sympathetically. “Still, we love the ponies we love for their faults as much as their virtues.”

Bon Bon blinked. “That’s… surprisingly deep.”

Derpy shrugged. “Something I heard somewhere. Makes sense though. The Doc’s always up and about, tinkering or messing with something or another. I sometimes think he’d forget to eat or sleep if I didn’t remind him. But even though he worries me and irritates me, I love him anyway.”

Bon Bon nodded slowly. “I guess.” She sighed. “I just… Lyra’s been away for the better part of two days dealing with this ‘human’ business. She even stayed over at the hospital. All I got was a lousy note!”

“I guess she’s passionate about her hobbies,” Derpy said with a shrug.

“Wish she was half as passionate about me,” Bon Bon muttered. She sighed. “Anyway, how can I help you?”

“Oh, right,” Derpy said, grinning sheepishly. “I was, uh, wondering if you could tell me when you’re getting that next shipment of Canterlot Jelly Foals in? The Doc’s gone through our entire supply. Again.”

Bon Bon grinned. “Sure thing. Let me just fetch my records.”

And so Bon Bon focused on more mundane issues for the moment. The question of her frankly irritating other half would be one she’d have to deal with when said other half finally bothered to come home.

She was pretty sure everything was fine with Lyra anyway. How bad could some random creature be?

Ponyville Hospital.

Lyra couldn’t breathe. All she could do was watch as Alexander Reiner – Alex, the human she’d been speaking with for what must have been hours, the human she’d been laughing with, joking with – held his arm around her friend’s throat, a look of pure murder in his eyes.

“Let Flutters go!” Pinkie Pie yelled, her expression utterly betrayed and livid. “Let her go, right now!”

Alex snorted. “Or what, Pink Menace?”

“Or we stop you,” Twilight said, her horn glowing as she took up a defensive stance.

“I’m sure that’ll be a great comfort to Fluttershy here when I start squeezing tighter, the blood flow to her brain stops, and she asphyxiates,” the human said, almost blandly, as though he were talking about something utterly mundane. “And if you think you ‘stopping’ me is some sort of scary threat, you’re really underestimating just how ready to die I am right now.”

The bold, bald and blunt statement caught everypony off guard. Pinkie Pie’s mane twitched, seeming to deflate slightly, and Lyra felt a chill run down her spine.

He really is ready to die. How bad, how terrible, must it be, where he’s from? How much pain must he have suffered to be so willing to let life go?

“Everypony calm yourself,” Celestia said, her voice supremely composed. Her muscles had tensed, but to her credit she had remained a centre of complete controlled serenity. “I understand your desire for answers, Alexander Reiner. Believe me, I sympathise with how confusing this must all seem. But you will not get them by threatening my subject.”

“I'm already getting them,” Alex snapped, baring his teeth. He calmed himself, before narrowing his eyes at the Princess. “See, the Celestia I know wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice a pawn to win the game, and all her subjects are pawns. I’ve seen how her armies operate: natural born and Newfoal alike get cast aside like trash so long as the larger goal is met.”

Twilight and Lyra exchanged a glance, and Lyra shrugged. This was not something she had discussed with him yet.

“If you were the Celestia I expected,” Alex continued, “I'd be dead the minute I tried to do a thing, whether that meant flash frying this room and everypony or not.” He narrowed his eyes. “But here we are… still talking. That tells me something’s up with this little game of yours, something beyond the ordinary.”

“I won’t sacrifice my subjects on the altar of expediency,” Celestia said. “I could kill you, that’s true enough. But not without hurting my ponies. I won’t do that.”

“Funny, that,” Alex said. “You’d think after all the ponies you've already let get hurt -”

“It should be painfully obvious to you by now that I am not who you were expecting,” Celestia snapped. “I am willing to find answers with you. Not by force, but together, as equals. Violence isn’t necessary.”

Alex’s grip didn’t shift. “You’ll forgive me if I need more than your word on that. Do you know how many broken promises I've heard from your kind? Too damn many.”

“Have I ever broken a promise to you?” Lyra asked, stepping forward and looking him in the eye. “Ever?”

Alex looked at her. “I… you're not even her.”

“I am Lyra Heartstrings,” Lyra retorted. “Whether I'm the one you knew or not. Am I so different? Can't you put your faith in me, like you did before?”

Alex’s expression wavered, before he finally looked away from her, releasing Fluttershy.

“In you, always,” he said.

Lyra smiled at that.

“How can I trust them though?” Alex asked after a moment, his gaze held firmly on the six young mares. Twilight actually had to shiver at his glare. Even though he was in no condition to fight, if glares could kill, she would be maimed a hundred times over.

“Because I do,” Lyra said. “I promise you – they won't hurt you.”

Alex looked uncertain.

“There's no point me saying ‘if this is a trick, I'm going to do some violent thing’,” he said after a moment. “If this is a trick, I’m fucked.”

Lyra winced.

“But,” Alex continued, “faith… faith was what held us together. Faith was what kept us fighting. Everyone knows that. Faith in righteousness or in ourselves or in our comrades.” He looked at Lyra. “Faith in you.”

Lyra looked away. “There's… nothing special about me.”

Alex smiled. “There, you're wrong. You're just managed to convince me to trust these ponies to go through my head. That, Lyra Heartstrings, is one hell of a good one.”

There was a long pause, somewhere between dangerously tense and incredibly awkward.

“I’m not going to apologise,” he finally said, looking at a flinching Fluttershy. “You don’t know what I’ve seen. If you had, you’d understand why I don’t trust you.”

“We’ll find out the reason for your distrust soon enough,” Celestia said quietly, her voice chilly and much less sympathetic than it had been. “I hope, for your sake, it is a good enough reason to explain your violence against an innocent.”

At her cold tone, Alex shifted his posture, almost huddling, with his knees pulled to his chest, arms across. Lyra noted the posture as being a defensive posture, most likely reflexive.

It’s always what we don’t say that really says everything.

“I guess you will,” he said after a moment. “If I’m a monster, Princess, it’s because I fought monsters for too damn long.”

Celestia’s expression softened at that. “You’ll forgive me if I say you don’t sound overly happy about that.”

“Who said I was?” Alex snorted, before fixing Celestia with a glare. “You stay the fuck away from my head, have you got that clear?”

“Luna will enter with the Element bearers, not me,” Celestia said with an incline of her head. “You have my word.”

“Yeah, that better be how it goes down,” Alex muttered. “‘Cos if this whole thing is a trick and I wind up dead, I'm haunting the shit out of you.”

Celestia exchanged a wry glance with Luna.

“Duly noted.”

The Crystal Empire.

“And why do you have to go speak to that plotwipe?”

Princess Cadance of the Crystal Empire smiled, brushing some of her long mane from her slender face. “Because Auntie Luna asked me to.”

Her husband, Shining Armour, sighed, laying his head on his armrest. “Why? He’s a plotwipe.”

“He’s family,” Cadance retorted, trying to sound patient. “I know you don’t like him, Shiny -”

“Don’t like him?” Shining Armour retorted. “He’s an up-his-own-plot layabout who slacked off his military service flying the Starspear around like a pleasure yacht instead of doing what he was supposed to be doing!”

Cadance sighed. “Look, I know he can be a little… awkward, but all the same, Auntie Luna has asked me to speak with him tonight, so I have to.”

“Probably because nopony else would want to,” Shining Armour snorted. He let out a sigh of his own. “Alright, alright, you know what you’re doing I suppose. Just… I dunno, don’t go easy on him just because he’s family.”

Cadance rolled her eyes. “Of course not. Do I go easy on you when you need to do stuff?”

Shining Armour smirked. “No. Good point.”

Cadance chuckled. “Don’t worry, Shiny. I know how to handle Astron Blueblood.”

Ponyville Hospital.

“So,” Luna said, after doing a little preparation of her own. “We are all agreed to do this?”

Lyra was speaking softly with Alex, who looked dubious, but she seemed to have forestalled further issues.

“Yes,” Twilight said quietly. “We’re ready.”

“Let's just get on with it,” Rainbow Dash said impatiently. “I'm sick of all this waiting around.”

“While I’m not as impatient as Rainbow,” Rarity added, “I must say the prospect of answers to all the unpleasant questions this… human business has brought up… well, it's most gratifying to think we might know what it all means, soon.”

Luna nodded. “Very well. I say again, though, that you must all be sure that you are willing to do this, and prepared for the potential consequences.” She looked at each of them. “It is not beyond the realms of possibility that we will get lost in there.”

“That's a risk for you, too,” Twilight pointed out.

“Perhaps,” Luna said, “but I’m willing to take it.”

“Well, so are we,” Applejack put in. “This stuff might be big. Seems to me like we’re involved, so let's go all in.”

“A poker reference?” Rarity asked. “I didn't know you played.”

“Not well,” Applejack admitted. “Big Mac cleaned me out three times in a row last week.”

“He's got the bestest poker face ever,” Pinkie Pie agreed. “You might as well be playing against a rock, and I say that having played against plenty of rocks. And having lost to most of them. Except Rockbert Rockington III, he’s got a terrible poker face.”

Luna chortled. “Well, if we are to go all in, let us begin.”

“I’d say good luck, but I don't care,” Alex cut in.

“You're very helpful, Mr Alexander Reiner,” Rarity shot back sarcastically.

“I try, ma’am,” Alex shot back with a snort.

“Hey,” Lyra said. “I’m going in there too.”

“Which is the sole reason I’m not shitting bricks right now,” Alex told her, smirking at the collective wince from the ponies. “Guess you can have fun in my fucked up head -”

“Do you have to use words like that?” Rarity snapped.

“Have to? No,” Alex chuckled. “But they do make me feel better when a bunch of ponies I don’t trust are about to go rummaging in my head.”

“Enough,” Luna said, shooting both of them a look. Alex looked away, having the decency to look slightly abashed, and Rarity sighed as Luna looked around the Element bearers. “Centre yourselves, little ponies.”

She closed her eyes, and the others followed suit. There was a sudden glowing, and then -

- they were in a forest.

“This… isn’t what I was expecting,” Lyra said softly, looking around.

It was dark, and there were what looked like bright orange embers floating through the air, coming from somewhere in the distance. The others were standing nearby, looking around, clearly confused by their surroundings. Princess Luna was standing at the rear of the group, looking as bemused as the rest of them.

“Be careful, my little ponies,” she said quietly. “There is no way to know what the state of this human’s mind is, but I would not feel unjustified in assuming that it is…”

“Hey, did you hear that?!” Rainbow suddenly said, looking wildly around.

“What?” Applejack asked from next to her, frowning in confusion. “I didn’t hear anything.”

Rainbow was still looking around. “Coulda sworn I heard something.”

“Like what?” Applejack said again.

Suddenly, Lyra felt the ghost of something passing her, and then she heard something whisper.

“Alex.”

She looked around, narrowing her eyes as she tried to see what was out there. “I heard something, too.”

“What?” Twilight asked, approaching her.

“I don’t know,” Lyra said quietly. “It was a voice, saying Alex’s name, but -”

“Alex,” another voice whispered. Lyra’s ears perked up, and she saw Twilight look in the direction that one had come from.

“I heard it,” she whispered. “What is that?”

The two Unicorns looked to Princess Luna, who was also listening.

“I believe these are voices from the human’s past,” she said after a moment. “But it is still strange, as though…”

“Alex!” a voice yelled from the distance.

“Horseapples!” Rainbow swore. “What the hay was that?!”

“More of Alexander Reiner’s bad memories?” Twilight guessed. “Maybe they’ll give us a clue as to what’s really going on?”

“Lead on, then, Twilight Sparkle,” Luna said stiffly. “In this place, your guess is as good as mine. Be cautious, however: I have not encountered a mind as fragmentary as this in a long time.”

“Are we sure about this?” Rarity asked quietly.

“We don’t exactly have a choice, Rare,” Applejack said with a half smile. “If we’re gonna figure out just what’s what, we’ve gotta figure out just what’s goin’ on in this fella’s head.”

Rarity sighed. “I know. But still… I won’t deny, this is more disconcerting than I had envisioned.”

Twilight and Lyra exchanged nervous glances, before heading through the woods in the direction the yelling had come from. The others followed behind.

As they walked, there were more sounds, not unlike thunder, except harsher and more metallic. Then there were screams and cries interspersed among them.

“This doesn’t sound good,” Rainbow put in. She had foregone flying in favour of walking next to Fluttershy, whose eyes were wide with horror. “What’s that noise?”

“Some sort of cannons, maybe?” Pinkie suggested, her mane somewhat deflated compared to usual. “I mean… when I was making the party cannon, I had to do a little research. It kinda sounds like that. But smaller.”

“The Griffons have claw-held variants of cannons called muskets,” Rainbow said softly. “Helps them get over the problem of not having active magic units. Maybe these humans have something like that?”

“That would make sense,” Lyra commented. “I mean -”

Before she could finish her sentence, a shadowy human figure passed across their way.

As one, they stopped, observing the figure as it slowly crossed their path. It wore a similar outfit to Alex’s own, except less battered, and the camouflage patterns were rendered in greens and browns. The figure turned its head, and most of its face was in shadow.

“You… did good work… Mr Reiner…” it said, its voice distorted but recognisably masculine. “You should… be proud…”

The figure passed out of sight.

“Who… what… was that?” Rarity asked quietly.

“No way to know,” Lyra said. “Alex hasn’t told me much about specific other humans he knows.”

“Well, that one was creepy,” Pinkie commented with a scowl. “I don’t normally like judging ponies and other beings on what I see about them in dreams -”

“How many times have you seen ponies in other ponies’ dreams, anyway?” Rainbow cut in, giving Pinkie a quizzical frown.

“More than you’d think,” Pinkie commented. “But like I was saying – that guy gave me the creeps.”

“He didn’t exactly seem like a fond memory,” Twilight agreed. She turned to look at Princess Luna. “Any thoughts, Princess?”

“Only that we are entering a deep, dark part of his subconscious,” Luna replied warily, looking around again. “I suspect there will be a melting pot of his worst experiences within this place. We must be cautious.”

“Well, that’s encouraging,” Rarity said in a faux chipper voice.

“Yeah, because we weren’t being cautious before,” Rainbow muttered.

Luna gave them both a slightly irate glance, then sighed.

“Worry not, little ponies,” she said. “Nothing amiss will happen to us here, I guarantee it.”

She went ahead, the others following her lead. All around them, the sounds were getting louder: the screaming, the sound of whatever weapons were going off…

… and the whispers.

“Alex,” one male voice said, right near Rainbow’s ear.

“Colonel, don’t sweat it,” another male voice whispered near Rarity. “We’ve got your back.”

Another voice, female and imperious, spoke near Luna, and she paused as it spoke. “I do not fear death. I fear failure. I fear the world that awaits if you fail. That is why I will make sure you do not.”

Another voice, all too familiar, went off near Lyra’s ear, and she froze. “I’ll be back before you know it, Alex: if it works, we can win, and everything we’ve suffered will have been worth it.”

“Was that you?” Twilight whispered. “Because that sounded like you!”

“I know,” Lyra said, feeling her blood chill. “I think… I think it might have been the other me.”

“Didn’t you say that he thought you were dead?” Rainbow put in.

“Yeah,” Lyra said in a small voice.

“Don’t focus on these things yet, my friends,” Luna said. “I think we are approaching the answer to some of our questions.”

Through the trees, they could see what looked like a shantytown. The buildings were small and made of wood and strips of metal, looking like they’d been put up in a hurry.

“The hay is this place?” Applejack pondered aloud.

There were a host of ghostly bipedal figures racing through the place, their features and details indistinct. Standing at the edge of this shanty town, however, was Alex Reiner, in his full gear. He turned to look at them, but it was as though he couldn’t really see them. After a moment, he turned back to the shanty town and began walking through it.

“Alex!” Lyra called after him.

“Is that him, or is it just a memory?” Twilight asked.

“Either way, it is for the best if we follow him,” Luna said quietly. “Come on.”

She led the way, the group following her lead. Along the way, the figure of Alex Reiner turned and raised his hand, aiming what looked like a metal crossbow of some description. The figure of another human, possible a female judging by certain differences, ran out of the door, oddly distinctive compared to the others. It looked like it might have been pregnant… and then, suddenly, the metal crossbow made a horrible, loud bang, and the figure fell.

As it fell, it seemed to flash between the figure it had been, an image of Lyra – looking a little older and more worn than the horrified Lyra watching it all – and another female human figure, this one with the same blonde hair Alex had.

“Alex,” this figure said from the floor. “They took him, Alex. They took my son, Alex. Why didn’t you stop them? Why didn’t you do something? Alex?”

Alex didn’t seem to react, instead walking on. Luna followed, never pausing, but the others couldn’t help but look at the female lying on the floor. The female’s eyes seemed to glare at them accusingly as they passed.

“This is insane,” Rarity muttered. “This human’s mind is like some sort of horror story.”

“It’s a horror story we’ve got to find out more about,” Twilight said grimly.

They pressed on, further into the shantytown. Luna had stopped, waiting behind the silent figure of Alex, who was standing in front of what was most likely a child, again with blonde hair. The child was looking at him with wide green eyes.

“You didn’t save me,” they said dully. “You didn’t save me.”

Twilight came to stand next to Luna, and her eyes widened in horror at what she saw next.

A tall, alabaster figure with a golden tiara and shining golden armour was trotting up to the child, wings spread outward in triumph, a foul smirk on her face.

“Celestia?” Twilight whispered.

“You didn’t save me,” the child said again, as the figure of Celestia brought a small, clear vial of some sort of purple liquid up. “Why can’t you save me, Uncle Alex?”

And then the faux-Celestia poured the vial onto the child’s head. They simply stood there, letting the liquid pour across their skin… even as their skin started bubbling, their bones started cracking, and fur started sprouting from their body.

“Why… didn’t… you… save… me?” the child-thing said, before falling to its hands and knees, the cracking of bone only continuing. Before the horrified eyes of the ponies, the human child transformed into…

… a foal. A foal with a blonde mane and a pale blue coat. It looked up with dead, glassy eyes, and gave an unnerving smile to the figure of Alex, before turning and running off. The faux-Celestia looked from the newly-made foal to Alex, a foul grin on its face.

“You know that this is what I will do to all of your people,” she said. Her voice was odd, tinged with something unidentifiable. “You know that you can’t save them all. Even augmented as you are, you have tasted my power. Do you think for one moment that you stand a chance, even with the help of my mirror? Do you think they will help you?”

“This is horrifying,” Rarity murmured. “Please, we’ve seen enough. We need to leave here, now.”

“I agree,” Fluttershy whispered.

“That… that can't be Celestia, can it?” Twilight said, her eyes wide with horror. “Princess Luna?”

Luna was staring at the faux-Celestia, her eyes narrowing with hatred even as the image still smirked maliciously at the figure of Alexander Reiner.

And suddenly, she turned to look Luna in the eye.

“Hello, Little Moon,” she said.

Luna took a step backward, her wings flaring defensively, and the others jumped backward.

“How strange,” the faux-Celestia said, “for you to be here, for you to come and see this human’s fractured mind. But also fortuitous.”

“What are you?!” Luna hissed.

“A memory’s echo, a fragment of a fragment of the power of my true self, the lightest imprint of a touch upon skin and soul alike, my power to twist him stymied but the barest stain of myself remaining,” the faux-Celestia said, grinning. “But enough to stay here, lodged in the depths of Reiner’s mind, making him doubt and question, enough to push, enough to push and push and push.”

“Whatever you are,” Twilight put in, growling at her, “you’re not Celestia. Celestia would never wage a war, not against anypony, that wasn’t justified.”

“How do you know I am not?” the faux-Celestia said.

“Because of what we just saw,” Luna hissed. “What did you do to that child?”

“Nothing, in reality – that was the privilege of my servants,” the faux-Celestia said, shrugging. “But I saved them all. Every last one of them that I take. Freed them from their fears and their worries, their choices and their concerns. They are happy. Eternally, infinitely happy.”

“That… wasn’t happy,” Pinkie put in, her mane even more lank than it had been. “That smile… wasn’t a smile. It was not.”

The faux-Celestia shrugged. “Does it really matter what you think of what I have done? You have no way to me, no way to send him back, and even if you did, you have no power to stop me.” She grinned again. “But if you want to try… well, I suppose I shall see you in person, Little Moon.”

“Do not call me that,” Luna growled.

The thing bowed. “As you wish. Farewell, Luna.” She gave a final, malicious chuckle. “We will see you soon.”

And suddenly -

- they found themselves back in the hospital room. Alex looked blandly at them, no sign that he was even aware of what they had just seen.

“Fun trip?” he asked sarcastically.

Luna scowled, shaking her head. “I… I have never seen a mind that fragmented in one still sane.”

“Sorry, ma’am, you still haven't,” Alex said with a smirk. “Reckon we all passed ‘sane’ a while back. I usually settle for ‘not in a straitjacket’.”

“What… what was that?” Twilight asked. “That… that thing we saw. You… what…”

Alex laughed bitterly at that and replied, “You saw my memories, right? Then you should’ve figured it out already.”

“What was happening to that foal, or that child, that…?” Twilight asked. “What was… was that… what was Celestia doing?”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “You’ll have to be more specific. Your people do a lot to humans, and Celestia most of all.”

Twilight swallowed. “She… she changed that child, changed them into…”

“Ah,” Alex said, nodding as his amused expression faded. “Yeah, that’s the truth. Not sure which time you saw -”

“That happens more than that one time?!” Twilight almost-yelled.

“Well, yeah,” Alex said. “I’ve no way of telling exactly which of my memories you saw. But it happens all the time. It’s kind of what the war is all about.”

“I… I don’t understand what…” Twilight stuttered.

“Alex,” Lyra said, her face gaunt and bloodless. “What’s happening on your world?”

He sucked in a breath. “We’re at war.”

“That much seems obvious,” Luna said quietly. “But what kind of war?”

“A war with you,” Alex clarified. “Or rather, with the Solar Empire. Queen Celestia and the Elements of Harmony are the leaders of an invasion of my home planet, Earth. Armies of Guards, bolstered by… well, the ponies who used to be my people.”

“And… and I…” Lyra struggled to articulate her thoughts. “I saw myself. Dead. What…”

Alex took a breath. “My friend, Ambassador Lyra Heartstrings, fought on our side to oppose the forced transformation, degradation and obliteration of the human race.”

His expression darkened, teeth bared, and eyes full of murder turned to stare at Celestia, who had listened to all of this with a calm, if troubled, expression.

"She was fighting to save us from you."

So here we find the first real divergence from SPECTRUM proper. I wish I could say that the idea of the fragment of Queenie in Alex’s head was an idea I had from the getgo, but it actually didn’t pop up until I was writing this version of the story. What can I say? Sometimes, it’s the new things that really pop.

Hope you enjoy the way the story continues.

“There is something so familiar about this. Do you ever have déjà vu?”
“Didn't you just ask me that?”
Rita and Phil, Groundhog Day.

Boston, USA. Sunday November 3rd, 2024.

“#And if you close your eyes,
Does it almost feel like nothing changed at all?
And if you close your eyes,
Does it almost feel like you’ve been here before?
How am I gonna be an optimist about this?
How am I gonna be an optimist about this?”

“You know,” David Elliot said, frowning as he ran a hand through his short, dark hair, “sometimes I do feel like we’ve been here before.”

“Oh?” asked the green Unicorn stallion next to him.

“Yeah, Grit,” Elliot said quietly. “Like… like… I dunno, like the whole thing reeks of doing the same things, over and over.”

“What whole thing?” a reddish-brown Pegasus said from a nearby stool, slightly further along the bar. This was Errant Flight, who – like the Unicorn – was clad in a grey Kevlar vest over a grey bodysuit. His cutie mark was a red kite shield cutie mark, complete with a pair of white wings: it contrasted with the Unicorn’s battered-looking kite shield, but it demonstrated that both of them were destined for the Guard.

Not that their lives had quite turned out the way they’d expected, of course.

“The war,” Elliot classified. “Sometimes I’ll hear someone or somepony say something and it’ll be like, ‘I’ve heard that before’. At first I thought it was, y’know, because of Fairport and Harbinger -”

The entire group present gave a collective shudder at the mention of Fairport, a place none of them ever wanted to think of again.

“- but it’s more than that,” Elliot finished. “I had it even before they messed me up.”

The Unicorn – True Grit, one of Elliot’s closest friends – sighed. “I know what you mean.”

“Yeah, me too,” Errant said, frowning. “Feel like I’ve been doing this… I dunno, for years, but at the same time, it feels…”

“Different,” Elliot said.

“It’s like fuckin’ deja vu, innit?” another human, with blonde hair and a tired smile, said from along the way. This was Sam Lake: like Elliot, he was clad in a set of muddy white ATC ‘Hardball’ armour, a full suit of armour that was as uncomfortable as it looked. “I get that all the time, like I’ll be doing something and then -” He mimed looking at his hands. “Whoa.”

Grit chuckled. “Yeah, I get that feel. That the sort of thing pops up all the time. Like, I coulda sworn we’ve been sat in this bar before.”

“That’s because you are, every other fucking night,” the barkeep said. He was a surly older man with a tank top and cargo pants on, a rather conspicuous beer belly poking out above his belt. “You guys might be my best customers.”

“I’m surprised you get any,” Elliot said with a short laugh. “I mean, what with… y’know…”

“My home city going to shit?” the barkeep asked dryly. “No need to sugarcoat it, pal. I know the place is fucked. What I also know is, I ain’t leavin’.”

“That’s fair,” Sam said. “Your home and all.”

“Damn straight,” the barkeep muttered. “Another one, fellas?”

Steady Hoof, a grey Earth Pony stallion with a tower shield cutie mark, raised his hoof. He didn’t say anything – mainly because, thanks to a nasty injury to the throat, he couldn’t anymore.

“Me, too,” Grit said, sighing. “Luna knows I could sure use more lubrication right now.”

“None for me, thanks,” Elliot said quietly. “Don’t want too much of a hangover tomorrow, squad’s getting a newbie and somebody has to be in the right state of mind for it.

“One for me,” a new voice said. A blonde man in his mid-forties sat next to the group, a long, dirty trenchcoat over his battered suit.

“John fucking Constantine,” Sam said with a smirk. “Shit, what’ve they pulled you in for now?!”

“Came with Jim and Hiro,” John said without elaborating. “Thought I’d come see how you morons were doing.”

“Gee, thanks,” True Grit said, raising an eyebrow. “Missed you too, asshole.”

John chuckled. “So, how goes holding down fortress Yankland?”

“It’s full of yanks,” Sam replied with a smirk. “So, shite. Not much decent beer, no decent footie, no decent telly, and all the food is greasy as fuck.”

“And they put far too much of it on a plate at once,” Elliot added.

“Hey, you don’t like it here,” the barkeep began, “you’re welcome to… uh…”

He paused as he realised who he was talking to, and the soldiers and Constantine all took a moment to give him a collective ‘really?’ expression.

“… sorry, fellas,” the barkeep said quietly. “Force o’ habit.”

“Yeah,” Elliot said coldly. “Sure.”

The barkeep decided that this would be the best time to beat a hasty retreat into his back room.

“Y’know,” Errant Flight said hesitantly, “you guys were making jokes about his home.”

“Yup,” Sam said with a snort. “We’re British. They make jokes about ‘saving our asses in world war two’, we make jokes about guns, they make jokes about bad teeth and accents, we make jokes about food and accents, it’s a thing.” He sighed. “But the whole ‘go home’ thing… not really a joke anymore.”

“I guess it’s not,” Errant said. “Still.”

“Bad humour’s a prerogative,” John said with a soft smile. “We’re probably all going to be dead before the story’s over.”

“The ‘story’?” Elliot said, smirking. “You think this is a story?”

“Sort of,” John said with a dry, mirthless chuckle. “All life’s really just a collection of stories. And bit part players like us? We don’t get to see the endgame. We’re not big shots like Reiner, or ‘personalities’ like Kraber. We’re just normies.”

“Hey, speak of the devil,” Elliot said, pointing at the bar’s entrance.

Sure enough, walking into the bar was Stabsunteroffizier Viktor Kraber: body armour, bushy beard, big gun, the works. He walked in with the swagger of someone who really, really wanted to look confident with himself. Behind him came an Earth Pony who looked more like a small horse, (description). This was Aegis, or Claw Hammer, Kraber’s squadmate and ever-present comrade-in-mischief.

“Alright, chommies,” Kraber said, sitting next to Elliot. “Howzit?”

“Shite,” Elliot said with a wry grin. “You?”

“My squad’s been assigned to the same sector as yours,” Kraber replied. “Was hoping one of you could tell me lê van die land, so to speak.”

“So we decided to celebrate with a stiff drink,” Aegis added.

“Also shite,” Elliot said, shrugging. “Speaking as Sergeant to Sergeant – or, y’know, however you pronounce… what was it, now?”

“Stabsunteroffizier,” Kraber said, enunciating every word. “I like it cause it has ‘stab’ in the name.”

“Right…” Elliot said, nodding. “Well, it’s the shite section. Projections according to Captain Harcourt state that the Newfoal rushes will get diverted through that sector, but even with another squad, we’re…”

Kraber held up a hand. “Don’t worry, I know what you’re saying. We’re right royally fokked op die esel.”

“Something like that,” Elliot said with a wry smirk.

“What, no one’s gonna ask what his Afrikaans means?” Aegis asked, sitting next to Steady Hoof, who quietly hoof-bumped him.

“When you’ve survived as much shite as we have,” Sam said, smirking, “and been in as many battlefields next to Kraber as we have, you learn to stop asking.”

“Besides,” Kraber added, shrugging. “Everyone always asks for a translation. That joke’s gotten stale, chommie. Only so long a running gag can run before someone gets sick of it.”

Errant Flight scowled. “This conversation feels really meta and I don’t know why, but it’s reminding me of my ex and it’s weirding me out.”

“You too, huh?” Aegis asked.

“Alright, alright, alright,” Kraber chuckled, in a near-perfect imitation of Kevin Hart. “Lets get fokked up instead.”

“Now there’s a suggestion I can deal with!”

PHL Main Compound, New York City.

Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee Cherry took a deep breath as the elevator she was in trundled down to the underground floors of the PHL Compound. The deep purplish-pink mare schooled herself carefully, letting her expression become centred and neutral. After all: she had a meeting in less than twenty four hours, and it wouldn’t do to be in a poor state for it, despite all the things worrying her.

The elevator stopped at her floor with a small ‘ding’ that made her want to chuckle. It was amazing to her that things as innocuous as the soft ‘ding’ing of a lift could still exist.

“Lieutenant Colonel,” one of the guards, a tall human in full body armour, greeted her. “Passcode please?”

“Cheerilee Twelve-Charlie-Charlie,” Cheerilee replied with a smile.

“Thank you,” the guard said, entering the code into a small tablet. “And compromise code?”

“Queen Celestia can go fuck herself with a rusty spanner,” Cheerilee replied, coughing after she was done. “Although speaking as a teacher, that would be anatomically improbable.”

“I’d love to see them try it,” the guard chortled.

“Luna willing, one day you’ll get your chance, soldier,” Cheerilee said, trotting past him. ‘Fuck you Celestia’, or some variation, was practically a universal code suffix at this point: a handy side effect of whatever conditioning was used on any Solar Empire operative was an inability to say human swear words, or anything bad about Celestia. Combining those things was just common sense, though it had taken Lyra to see it.

Ah, Lyra, Cheerilee thought wistfully.

The compound wasn’t much: a few dozen cramped offices, a barracks for the PHL/UN garrison, a handful of R&D rooms, a pair of briefing rooms and a single main conference room… barely any room for the work they were doing. To be fair, though, it had started out much smaller: Cheerilee remembered with a fond little smile how many long hours of negotiating it had taken Lyra to convince the UN to fund an expansion of the main compound’s facilities. Even now, the PHL’s resources were… sketchy.

So little, and too few people and ponies, she thought grimly. But we have to persevere, no matter what.

She sighed as she trotted up to the door to Briefing Room B. She pushed the door open, and smiled softly as she saw the others already present.

“Lieutenant Colonel,” Professor Manewell Trotsworth said quietly. The old grey Unicorn pushed his half-moon spectacles up the bridge of his nose, and gave a small smile. “Good to see you.”

“Manewell,” Cheerilee said. She looked to the two figures standing opposite Manewell – a stallion with a tan coat and brown mane, and a red-headed human (or rather, human-looking) man with a tweed coat and corduroy trousers. “Doctors.”

“Cheerilee,” the two greeted simultaneously. They shared a look. “Jinx. Double jinx!”

“Guys, please,” the fourth individual, a white-coated Unicorn mare with sunglasses and a blue fauxhawk groaned, rubbing her head. “I’m still working Saturday off.”

“Sorry, Vinyl,” the stallion – Doctor Whooves – said. “Me and my learned self here have a habit of -”

“Having the same thought at the same time,” the human-looking man said, smirking. “Annoying, I’m sure.”

“But practical,” Whooves said. “Although the good Doctor Bowman tends to be a bit more… irritable.”

“You try telling Ambrose Hex ‘I don’t make weapons’ for nearly four years straight and see how you like it!” ‘Bowman’ muttered.

“Gentlemen,” Cheerilee said, holding up a hoof. “We have meeting bright and early tomorrow. I’d like to know what we’ve got to show for it.”

“Who’s coming to the meeting?” Manewell asked gently.

Vinyl snorted. “Who isn’t. Everyone from Merrick to fucking Romero.”

“Well, we had best begin,” Cheerilee said, giving a wan smile. “We don't want to disappoint them when they show up. What have we got?”

Bowman and Whooves exchanged a look, and then Bowman gestured for Whooves to speak.

“Well,” the stallion said, “with Manewell’s help, we’ve stalled the Barrier.”

“For the moment,” Trotsworth put in. “It’s not indefinite. Or even likely to be all that long, I’m afraid.”

“But it’s better than the thing continuing on during that time,” Whooves finished. “And we’re already working on extending that time as much as we can. We had Moondancer working on it while she was there, to see if she could add any insights, but -”

“But she was killed in a bombing raid,” Bowman finished with a morose expression. “Poor mare. She deserved better than that.”

“We all deserve better than what this war’s dealt us, Doc,” Vinyl said, not unkindly. Her face had a sympathetic smile on it. “But hey, whatever we’re doing, we’re stuck with the hands we got dealt. Moondancer got that better than most of us.”

“And if the rumours that the One-Winged Angel was put down around the same time are true,” Whooves said, “then we’ve traded more than fairly, though details are sketchy at best.”

“Sketchy or not,” Trotsworth put in, “the Angel being killed does mean that the Solar Empire’s pre-Barrier advance in that sector has been temporarily halted, giving us a brief respite. That is something to consider fortuitous.”

“Absolutely,” Cheerilee agreed. “But it’s still a short-term solution. We need more than that if we’re going to convince the President and others tomorrow to continue supporting our options over… more extreme ones.”

Everyone in the room knew what she meant by that, and there was a brief, unpleasant silence as they contemplated it.

“You’re right, Cheerilee. We are,” Trotsworth agreed quietly. “I forwarded you one potential option that shows a great deal of -”

“You’d better not be talking about ‘The Manehatten Project’,” Bowman cut in, scowling at him. “We’ve talked about this, Manny: not a good plan.”

“I know your opinion quite well, Doctor,” Trotsworth said calmly. “But we’re fast approaching zero hour. The Manehatten Project -”

“I’ve reviewed your files, Professor,” Cheerilee cut him off, sighing. “And there is a time and a place for that sort of desperation. But it isn’t here, today. We will discuss it again if, and only if, the time becomes appropriate.”

Trotsworth took a breath. “There are others, Lieutenant Colonel, who would disagree with you about the appropriateness of now to discuss the project and its possibilities.”

“You’re part of the PHL, Professor,” Cheerilee retorted. “So I’m the highest buck you get, unless you want to bring it up with the Commander.”

There was a pause at the reference to the PHL’s official military leader.

“Any word about Alex?” Vinyl asked quietly.

“The Colonel’s team were reported KIA,” Cheerilee replied. “No word yet whether he was among them. But we’d know if he was ponified.”

“They couldn’t ponify him, anyway,” Trotsworth said with a dismissive snort. “The runes would self destruct his entire body if he didn’t clear them off soon enough, and if they forced him to swallow potion he’d combust.”

“Either way, the Queen Bitch would crow about it every way she could,” Vinyl said. “It’s been too quiet to write him off, Cher.”

“Agreed,” Cheerilee said with a ghost of a smile. “It’s been far too quiet to write him off, so we won’t. Not yet.” She paused, and her smile widened. “If I know Alex Reiner, he’s doing something unexpected.”

“You could be right about that,” Bowman murmured, too quietly for anypony in the room to hear.

Checkpoint Delta, Monday November 4th, 2024.

Okay, Em, PHL Operative Emma Taylor said, taking a deep breath in and trying to school her expression. She was thankful that the Hardball armour she wore came with a full-face helmet: it disguised the fact that she probably looked like she was about to shit bricks. You can do this. It’s just… y’know, new people. We can totally do this.

She was walking towards one of the many Checkpoints in Boston to report to her new Sergeant. She felt an absurd itch somewhere between her shoulder blades, but of course her armour didn’t leave any space for her to get in and scratch it.

Because, of course, it has to be potion proof, she thought with an internal sigh. I guess no one ever thought about creature comforts.

She tried to ignore the discomfort as she approached Checkpoint Delta. As grandiose as the name sounded, it was really just a pair of gun emplacements with no guns, a few crates of ammunition, a single small pre-fab shack with an Armacham Technology Corp logo on it, a painted-on pad with a large letter H on it (Who’s gonna land a helicopter in a street?) and lots of sandbags.

Taylor could see a dark-haired man in muddy white Hardball armour, sergeant’s stripes on his shoulder pad and what might have been a long bayonet girt at his side. He was speaking with a Grey Earth Pony and a green Unicorn, both of whom were dealing with a P220a.

Aren’t those outdated? she pondered to herself as she made a beeline for him.

“… and I want you guys to try and contain those bloody jams as best you can,” he was saying to the heavy weapons team. “It’ll be ruddy typical if a horde of Newfoals comes down and our bloody heaviest weapon gets jammed.”

The Unicorn caught Taylor’s eye, and pointed at her. “Well, we might have help with that, sir.”

The sergeant turned, and gave Taylor a quizzical expression. It was only now that she realised that he was about six foot tall, easily towering over her petite frame. She also noticed his dark, tired eyes. Experienced she thought grimly.

“Operative Emma Taylor, PHL, sir,” she said at once, coming to attention and saluting with her palm out, English-style. She fought he urge to wince at how cockney her voice sounded. “I’ve been assigned as your new special weapons operator.”

The man returned the salute in the same fashion. “Operative Taylor. I’m Sergeant David Elliot, assigned to First Encounter Assault Recon.” He paused. “Good to have you on the team.”

“Thank you, sir,” Taylor said stiffly.

Elliot smirked. “Drop the ‘sir’ and the formality, Taylor. We’re FEAR, and we’re a pretty lax little squad. You’ll figure that out the longer you’re part of the team.”

Taylor blinked, and some of her tension dropped. “I… uh, right. Uh…”

“Dave,” Elliot said. He pointed to the rest of his team: the green Unicorn and the grey Earth Pony, a beech-red Pegasus, and a blonde human man in the same armour as him, carrying a G2A2 assault rifle. “You’ve got True Grit and Steady Hoof on the P220a, Errant Flight’s our scout, Sam and me are the bog-standard grunts.” He motioned, finally, to a blonde man in a trenchcoat who was smoking a cigarette. “And that…”

“John Constantine,” the man said blandly. “Dabbler in the Dark Arts.”

Taylor frowned. “You’re a civilian. Do you have permission to be in this area?”

Constantine raised an eyebrow at that comment. Elliot coughed.

“John’s what we call a ‘mystic’,” he said slowly. “He has clearance for any and all PHL and affiliate ops.”

Taylor felt her mind start whirring. “A mystic? I’ve never heard of them.”

“‘Course you haven’t, love,” Constantine said sarcastically. “We’re dead quiet, like.”

Taylor didn’t dignify that with an answer.

“Helmet off, Taylor,” Elliot said after a moment, motioning to it. “We’re not at alert yet. Might as well relax while we can.”

Taylor hesitated for a moment, then sighed, before pulling the helmet off, revealing short red hair and large, brown eyes.

“Better,” Elliot said, smiling. “Face to face conversation’s pretty difficult when you’re talking to a helmet.”

“Especially those helmets,” Sam put in. “I could never understand why Hardball hats hat to look so bland.”

Taylor looked at the helmet: come to think of it, it was a pretty bland-looking thing, with a wide expanse of visor beneath the gunmetal armour. She’d never bothered painting hers the way some troopers did.

“Hey, is that an ATC S-HV Penetrator?” Grit asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Taylor said, smiling as she motioned to her weapon, slung over her shoulder. “It’s pretty good.”

“I know Kraber’s been dying for an HV, but S-HV is a step up,” Grit chuckled. “Been meaning to get him one, but y’know how requisitions are.”

“Yeah,” Taylor said, nodding. “Pretty difficult to get anything done, these days.”

“So, Operative,” Elliot said, changing the subject. “Read your file. Bit confused why you’d ask for an assignment to my team.”

Taylor gave him a small smile. “Homesickness, sir. Your team wasn’t the only one with a gap, but there’s two Brits on it.”

“Aye, but we’re from the North,” the other man – Sam – put in, grinning. “And you’re a southern wuss. Thought you’d be takin’ the cushy job.”

“Well, someone’s got to make sure you lugheaded Northern louts can read the order’s you get sent,” Taylor shot back without thinking. She put a hand to her mouth, her eyes widening. “Uh, that is -”

Before she could apologise, Elliot let out a laugh.

“Not bad, Operative,” He said, slapping her shoulder pad. “I’ve not heard one that good in sodding years.”

“Which might just be a sign that he’s been around Yanks too long,” Constantine put in. “But no matter how long he’s been mingling with the Colonials, you can still tell he’s a Yorkshireman…”

“... but you can’t tell him much,” Taylor finished, smiling. “That one’s old, Mr Constantine.”

“Keep calling me ‘Mr Constantine’ and I’ll start feeling old,” Constantine replied. “It’s John. Or Constantine if you don’t wanna get too pally.”

“Don’t get too pally,” True Grit said quietly, the pseudo-American accent most ponies had sounding odd after all the English voices. “He’s a menace.”

“Magnificent,” Constantine chuckled. “I’m a ‘menace’. Lovin’ that. Can I put that on my gravestone, Grit?”

The Pegasus landed near Taylor and frowned at her, looking more serious than the others had.

“So, you’re Viola’s replacement,” he said quietly. “Took them long enough to get you to us.”

“Flight,” Elliot said quietly. “Don’t.”

“Viola?” Taylor asked, frowning.

At once, True Grit and Steady Hoof both bowed their heads.

“Bless ‘er soul, wherever the sod it ended up,” Constantine said quietly, his once-boisterous manner immediately subdued.

“Viola Heartswell was your predecessor,” Elliot said quietly. “Went MIA during the Fairport incident. Less you know about that shitshow, the happier you’ll be.”

“Beats whatever that Amarillo shite was supposed to be about,” Sam put in. “Did Raynes ever explain that one?”

“No, but Chen once told me it was real ‘through the looking glass’ shit,” Elliot said with a snort.

“Of course he did,” Sam chuckled. “Man might be the dictionary definition of ‘has seen shit’.”

“Aren’t we all?” Constantine asked.

“That’s true enough,” Sam chuckled. He glanced at Taylor. “You seen much action, newbie?”

Taylor shook her head. “Been helping in R&D for two years. Closest I’ve been to the action was helping Officer Yarrow fix a Type 8 that went wonky, then watching her have an argument with some guy.”

“And you gave that up to join the frontlines, with one of the unluckiest squads in the entire combined force?” True Grit said incredulously.

Taylor shrugged. “Like I said: I got homesick. Not many Brits in that branch of R&D.” She grimaced. “Plus Terry Halford kept making passes on me.”

“Yeah, I met Terry once,” Constantine snorted. “He’s… him.”

“One word,” Taylor said with a snort. She was starting to feel a little more comfortable here.

Suddenly, the air was filled with a harsh noise, not unlike barking static. Elliot winced.

“Shit,” he swore. “Comm’s cacking out again.” He tapped his earpiece. “This is Checkpoint Delta, over.” He waited for a moment, then grimaced. “This is Checkpoint Delta, over!”

“Nothing?” Sam asked.

“No,” Elliot said quietly. He sighed. “Right, then.” He looked to Taylor. “With me, Ms Taylor.”

He walked over to the small prefab. Frowning, Taylor glanced at Sam, who shrugged, before walking after Elliot towards the prefab.

Cheerilee’s Office, PHL Compound.

Cheerilee sighed as she stared at the maps and briefing documents. Her meeting was in a few hours, and she felt a headache building almost proportionately.

Typical she thought. Nothing ever gets easier, does it?

She was drawing up a list of points for discussion in the forthcoming meeting. With so many different generals, officers and representatives coming, she figured she had to do her best to keep the meeting from devolving into a bunch of different idiots yelling at each other.

A little bit more stressful than grading homework, she thought ruefully, and not for the first time. I’d take a class field trip with Diamond Tiara over this any day.

Except she wouldn’t. Partly because even if someone gave her the opportunity to teach again and forget the war, she wouldn’t. It just wouldn’t be right. And partly because Diamond Tiara had been murdered by Imperial Guards about three months ago during yet another crackdown on civilian protesters in Equestria – and in her own damn house, nonetheless. It was strange just what things could set a little twinge of pain through Cheerilee’s mind and heart now.

“Bit for your thoughts?” came a soft, familiar voice. Cheerilee looked up, to see the pegacorn Princess Cadance looking at her with a soft smile, her formerly lustrous mane tied back and dulled and her eyes ringed with what might have been days or even weeks worth of not sleeping.

“Hi, Cadance,” Cheerilee said quietly. She sat back in her chair. “How goes it?”

“As well as can be expected, which is to say, not very,” Cadance said with a wry smile, “but there are worse ways to spend your day.”

“I can guess,” Cheerilee said without elaborating. After all, Cadance knew all about worse days.

Of the two of them, the former Princess of Equestria had definitely had it worse. Cheerilee’s losses had been livelihood, lifestyle, home, but Cadance had not only lost those, but lost her husband as well. Worse still, she had to live with the knowledge that her husband had been forced to perform acts that were utterly terrifying: acts that, even if by some mercy he was saved, he would have to live with forever.

“So,” Cadance said, looking at the desk. “Ready for the big meeting?”

Cheerilee sighed. “I have a feeling I’m going to spend half of it explaining that we don’t know what happened to Alex and half of it explaining why Alex is still on front line duty.”

“At least half,” Cadance said with a snort. She shook her head. “Doesn’t help that we don’t have an answer.”

“To which question?” Cheerilee snorted. “Every time someone brings up pictures of Defiance and the casualties there…”

… “Justice for Angelo!” being yelled in your ear as you look at the picture thrust in your face… A woman with a pregnant belly lying next to a child of no more than nine… the disapproving glares of your colleagues and fellow officers as you refuse to even consider a court martial for Alex, protests quietly moved away or ‘discouraged’... the looks of disgust from both sides when they see that you’ve actually let Kraber into the PHL…

And then swallowing the guilt when Sam Yarrow, or Romero and that fucking smirk of his, sit opposite you, knowing what you did, what you’ve allowed, and all the while Alex is impassive, doesn’t react, if only he’d bucking react…

“… or we have one of Yarrow’s HLF bringing up what happened to Wolfgang Brennan or Arthur Rand, any number of the ‘friendly fire’ incidents. Then there’s the Fairport Incident and all the bullshit that went down there… every time, I have to answer the same questions about his competence, his mental state or, Luna help me, his morals.”

Cadance sighed. “I know.” She paused. “And what do you tell yourself?”

“Same thing I tell them,” Cheerilee said quietly. “That Alexander Reiner was Lyra’s friend, that he’s a competent soldier, and he’s helped make the PHL a force in this war instead of just another nonentity. None of us are clean.” She closed her eyes. “And I do mean none.”

Cadance nodded slowly. “I can understand that. I have to admit, though, sometimes…”

“You have reservations,” Cheerilee finished. At Cadance’s nod, the former schoolteacher smiled sadly. “Me too. But even with everything we’ve all done, we have to keep going. Alex too, if he’s still alive. After all,” she said with a too-chirpy tone, “Churchill was a drunk imperialist and Roosevelt was practically a dictator, but they were the leaders wartime needed. Alex is… Alex, but he’s pushing on and he’s keeping us afloat. We have to push on, too.”

The expression on Cadance’s face as she heard that was difficult to describe. Cadance hadn’t exactly been suffused with hope there, but then her expression hadn’t exactly soured, either.

She’s got to know I’m bullshitting both of us there, Cheerilee thought. But we don’t have a better answer.

“Well said,” the ex-Princess finally sighed. “Well, I’d best get going.” She gave a rueful smile. “We all have to pay the piper sometime.”

Cheerilee nodded as Cadance left. Don’t we just, Cadance. Don’t we fucking just.

Checkpoint Delta.

Once Elliot and Taylor were inside the prefab, he grabbed a bottle of Coca Cola from a nearby desk and leant against it, sighing heavily. He unslung the bayonet from his side, and she realised with a start that it was a full blown bastard sword.

Was he one of the close-quarters specialists? she wondered. Back when the war had started, no one had thought ponies could win a war against humanity, with all their guns, until it was realised that the enemy not only had magic that could substitute ‘modern’ tactics or stymie them, but they also had a massive close-quarters advantage. Too often, soldiers had been cut down by Guardsponies simply because combat knives and rifles couldn’t match trained sword-play and armour. Eventually, troopers had begun being equipped with CQC gear, but a rare few had taken up using swords and training with them. Some of them had even taken up using magically enhanced blades, specially crafted by Equusite smiths and artisans. Stephan Bauer, Hiro Mifune… they were a select group, but well known. She didn’t remember hearing Elliot’s name among them, though.

“Drink?” Elliot asked, bringing her attention back to the present.

“Water’s fine,” she replied, taking her water bottle from her belt and taking a swig.

“Fair enough,” Elliot replied, taking a drink from his Coke. He gave her a sardonic grin. “One advantage of these ATC prefabs is the vending machines. They’re about the only thing that gets constant refills.”

Taylor nodded slowly. “I wasn’t gonna ask, but…” She motioned to the door. “Two human soldiers, three ponies, and the civvie? Not exactly much for guarding a whole Checkpoint.”

“Resources are tight,” Elliot said quietly. “Another squad is joining us later today – Viktor Kraber’s, if you know the reputation…”

Taylor did, and frowned.

“… yeah, he gets that look a lot,” Elliot said with a small smirk. “His squad and ours is still a pretty scant little force, though, I know.”

“I’m starting to think you’d have been better with another minigunner,” Taylor said quietly. She unslung brought her weapon from her shoulder and looked at it with a sceptical expression. “I’m not gonna make many dents in a Newfoal rush with this.”

“No, but you might help bring down a Newcalf or a Unicorn Shield-Trooper,” Elliot replied. “Don’t worry about what use you’ll be. You’re another gun on the front. That’s use enough.”

Taylor nodded, but she didn’t feel very confident.

“I just…” she said, speaking as quietly as she could. “I don’t know how we’re going to hold them off.”

“We’re not,” Elliot replied at once, his expression resigned. “Realistically, they’ll send in a militia unit to soften us, then a hardcore assault: Newcalves, spitters, the works. It’s not a question if if we’ll need to pull back, but when. There can’t be more than five or six hundred troops spread across the various positions.”

“But… but there’ll be more help, won’t there?” Taylor asked, frowning. “We’re holding one of the most strategic positions in America, aren’t we?”

“We are,” Elliot agreed. “But it’s above our heads if the PTB commit more resources to holding the line. There’s all sorts of rumours ‘bout what they’re planning.” He sighed. “Not our job to question it, though. Ours not to reason why…”

“Ours but to do and die,” Taylor finished, giving an empty smile. “I’d rather not do the dying just yet, mind you.”

“Me neither,” Elliot chuckled. “But I guess we’ll see.”

There was a momentary pause, and then Taylor sighed.

“Wanna tell me why I’m really in here, sir?” she asked.

“Counter question,” He said, taking another swig of his Coke. “Wanna tell me why you’re really in this squad?”

Taylor frowned. “I told you -”

“D’you know, I’m not dense,” Elliot said, cutting her off. “I know when something’s complete bullshit.”

Taylor sighed. “You… you wouldn’t believe me, sir.”

“There’s a lot of things I didn’t used to believe,” Elliot replied with a sardonic smile. “But I’m more open minded now.”

Taylor grimaced. “I… have to be here, sir.”

“‘Have’ to?” Elliot repeated.

“It’s just a feeling,” she explained. “Like… like a gut instinct. When I saw this post was open, I had to apply for it. It was almost… beyond my control.”

Elliot looked thoughtful for a moment, before nodding slowly.

“I think I understand,” he said quietly. “Believe it or not, Operative, I’ve had similar feelings myself.”

“You have?” Taylor asked, frowning.

“Yup,” Elliot said, giving her a wry smile. “I’ve been in a lot of hairy situations during this damn war, and sometimes doing what ‘felt’ right about a situation was all I had to go on. And for me, sometimes, those feelings were more than gut instinct, too.”

“But it makes no sense,” Taylor said, shaking her head in disbelief. “It’s stupid.”

“John would say that there’s more going on in this world than we’re aware of,” Elliot said with a shrug. “More things going on than we’re capable of understanding. Personally, I think he’s right.” He chuckled. “I mean, come on, we’re fighting a war against pastel anthropomorphic ponies. At what point do we stop disbelieving the strange?”

Taylor didn’t know what to make of that, so she didn’t respond. She had to admit though: he definitely had a point.

Standing up, Elliot cracked his neck with a groan. “Come on: we’d better get ready for Kraber’s lot arriving, and I wanna make sure the emplacements are all set up.”

He walked out of the little prefab, and Taylor followed, trying not to think too hard about just what sort of post she’d taken. One thing was for certain, though.

This is where I’m meant to be. She sighed. I only wish I understood why I’m meant to be here.

Ah, so here we find another divergence point. You’ll notice I used the King’s Speech crew here: mainly because, since I needed a batch of mauve shirts, they’re the best I’ve got.

You’ll also probably have noticed Kraber. He’s Kraber, how could he not be here?

“The Pilgrimage proves we are willing to give of ourselves for the greater good. What does it say about me if I turn my back on this?”
Tali’Zorah nar Rayya, Mass Effect.

Ponyville, Equestria. May 3rd, Year 3 Era Harmonia.

“Some future or alternate version of myself,” Celestia whispered. The pronouncement Alexander Reiner had made lay heavy on the air, like a bell tolling, the echo long outliving the sound.

‘She was fighting to save us from you’. She could scarcely believe it, and yet there was no rebuttal from the others, no outraged denial from Luna. What he had said clearly matched up with whatever they had seen.

She and her sister had stepped away from the others, the younger ponies speaking amongst themselves, save for Lyra Heartstrings, who was speaking with Reiner quietly.

“Strange,” Celestia continued. “I knew such things were possible, even likely.” She gave a weak chuckle. “So many magical theoreticians and physicists have just been granted the proof of a lifetime… and yet here I am, faced with it, and I want so desperately not to believe it.”

“Believe it, sister,” Luna said quietly. “There was… a thing. In Reiner’s head. A representation of the version of you that he fights against.”

“A representation,” Celestia repeated. “What sort of ‘representation’ was it?”

“Not a good one,” Luna said quietly. “It… it was self aware, somehow. Claimed to be influencing Reiner’s actions and moods – ‘pushing’ him, and though I cannot say what it was pushing him towards, I daresay there are a few speculations one could make.”

Celestia glanced back at Reiner, who was still talking to Lyra.

“It doesn’t seem to affect his outward bearing,” she said quietly.

“We have no way to know what it affects,” Luna pointed out. “We do not have a basis for comparison. For all we know, it has fundamentally changed everything about him.”

“That’s true,” Celestia said with a nod. “Can this… whatever it is… be exorcised from him, do you think?”

“Possibly?” Luna said quietly, shrugging. “I am not certain: we are not familiar with the magic used.” She sighed. “But it does beg the question: could all this be a deception?”

“A deception?” Celestia repeated. “In what sense?”

“This human, the things he’s seen, all of it,” Luna said quietly. “It might be a front for something else. We have had many enemies across our long years, sister. We could be being deceived to serve the interests of any one of them.” She gave Reiner a surreptitious glance. “He may not even be aware of the deception.”

Celestia nodded slowly. “I see why you might think that. Truthfully, I had not considered it, but it does not seem beyond the realms of possibility: we know minds can be manipulated through magical means.” She purses her lips. “That being said…”

She trailed off, her brow furrowing thoughtfully.

“What?” Luna asked, leaning in. “What is it?”

“I believe this to be the truth,” Celestia replied quietly, looking Luna dead in the eye. “I believe this to be as he says it is: a war, against some other version of Equestria.” She sighed, looking away from Luna again, her eyes downcast. “Perhaps the depths of his rage and fear are being fuelled by some dark presence, or perhaps his darker impulses are being amplified… or perhaps what you saw is merely a manifestation of hatred for me. I do not know, but I do not sense true malice, nor do I feel as though this is some kind of trick.”

“But if all this is true, what now?” Luna asked in a hushed tone. “What can we do?”

Celestia looked at her. “If it is true… then it is not my place to decide alone.”

“I’ll support whatever you need, all of the family will,” Luna said quietly. “You know you can count on us.”

“And yet, the choice still falls on me,” Celestia said ruefully, smiling without mirth. She looked back at Reiner, who looked incredibly tired. “But not only me.”

Celestia turned fully and took a step toward Reiner, who looked up at the sound and tensed in his bed.

“What?” he asked.

“I can’t pretend to understand exactly what has happened to you, nor can I begin to feel the depths of rage and loss you must feel,” Celestia told him, speaking slowly and gently. “But I want to help you, in any way that I can.”

“Then find a way to send me home,” Reiner replied grimly. “That’s the only help I want, or need, from you.”

“I doubt that’s true,” Celestia said, smiling softly. “It is certainly the only help you want, I’m sure – after all, you clearly hold no love for me – but I suspect from what I have been told that you may need all the help you can get.”

Reiner said nothing, but he looked away, and Celestia gave him a small smile.

“I know you don’t trust me,” she said quietly, “and in your position, I would no doubt feel the same. But surely there must be some help I can offer.”

“Soldiers,” Reiner said quietly. “Airships. Weapons. Resources. Medical supplies. Can you offer those things?”

Celestia’s smile faded. “Equestria has not fought a war for over five hundred years, and that was only a border skirmish. But yes. I can offer weapons, soldiers. Foolish as I may no doubt sound to you, is there no diplomatic solution?”

“Princess,” Twilight Sparkle put in, “from what we saw… it’s like nothing I could imagine our Equestria doing.”

“I must concur,” Luna said quietly. “I do not know how this other version of you could have fallen so low… but surely there is no just cause for what I saw. The… the…”

She trailed off, her expression sickened. Reiner coughed, but his expression was surprisingly neutral.

“Lyra… my Lyra… once hoped for a diplomatic solution.” He looked sad as he said it. “But then she… she started studying, learning… and all she said was, we weren’t fighting what we thought we were, we weren’t dealing with a normal foe, and that we had no choice but to keep fighting.” He paused. “That… that was one of the last things she said to me, two days before she went to the Thunderchild... and then she was taken. Executed.”

“By my other self,” Celestia surmised.

“Yeah,” Reiner said quietly.

“What did she mean by that?” Lyra asked, frowning, and Celestia couldn’t help but smile at the young mare’s inquisitiveness.

“I could never make sense of her journals after she was gone,” Reiner said to her. “And the people she spoke to – Jim, Mifune, Constantine – they had little pieces of the puzzle, but never the whole thing.”

“Whatever the case,” Celestia said quietly, “if it is soldiers you need… I do not enjoy the notion of entering such a conflict, but enter it I will.”

Reiner sighed. “I’m not trying to be unfair to you, Princess – God knows I don’t want to turn away help – but even if you’re more familiar with pony warfare than we were, even if you have more regular means of counteracting their magic, they’re a war economy. Millions of soldiers, weapons, equipment.” He pursed his lips. “The Solar Empire, the Equestria I’m fighting… is a war machine.”

Celestia nodded, but then gave another small smile. “Ponies are industrious, Alexander Reiner. When faced with challenges, we do not shy away. We will overcome any obstacle placed before us, and we will triumph.” And then she gave a small smile. “And it may well prove that we will not join you alone.”

Reiner frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hold to hope, Alexander Reiner,” Celestia said. “And I will see to it that hope returns to you.” She looked to Luna. “Sister, come with me.” She turned to Twilight. “You and your friends should come to Canterlot: take the first train tomorrow, and prepare yourselves for difficult times ahead.”

“We understand, Princess,” Twilight said solemnly. “We’ll be ready, don’t worry.”

The other Element Bearers echoed her sentiments, and Celestia smiled, before turning to Lyra.

“And you, Ms Heartstrings,” she began.

“With your permission, I’ll stay here with Alex,” Lyra said before Celestia could continue. “We’ll let you know if anything changes.”

“Of course,” Celestia said, inclining her head. “That would be probably be for the best.” She leant forward and spoke quieter. “Perhaps you should keep the details of what you experienced in his head to yourself, however.”

“Why?” Lyra asked, whispering.

“Because I do not wish to alarm him, for one thing,” Celestia said quietly. “We will help as we can, when we can. Until then, we should try and keep him positive.”

Lyra nodded and smiled. “I can do that.”

Celestia smiled back. “Good luck, then, Ms Heartstrings.”

And without another word, she left the little room, her mind already spinning with ideas and plans. Behind her, she could hear Luna trotting to keep pace, the younger ponies scurrying behind her.

“Sister, what do you intend?” the Lunar Diarch asked.

“We have millennia of alliances and favours to call upon, Sister,” Celestia replied. “I intend to see about cashing them all in.”

The dreams of a stallion bound by class and station.

Cadance blinked as she found herself in the realm of dreams. It had taken little time to focus her mind on the task at hoof: a side effect of her Alicorn abilities. While she was in no way as skilled a dreamwalker as Princess Luna, it was still easy enough for her to navigate.

The place she had found herself in, upon focusing on her cousin, was a misty, veiled place, difficult to make any sense of. She was fairly sure she was walking on wood, but other than that she could make no sense of it.

“Bluey?” she called out. “You out here?”

There was the gentle ding-ding of a bell, and suddenly the mist cleared enough that Cadance could see she was standing on a dock, a mighty Galleon looming above her. She blinked, looking up at it.

“Well,” she murmured. “That… is something.”

“Avast!” came a voice, speaking in an over-exaggerated pirate accent. A figure appeared on the edge of the Galleon. “Who goes there?!”

“Princess Cadance!” Cadance called up. “Looking for – uh, Captain Blueblood!”

In response, the figure grabbed a rope and rappelled down the side of the ship, landing in front of Cadance. In a single move he swept his hat off, revealing the blonde mane of Prince Astron Blueblood, his eyes wide and a grin on his face.

“Cady!” he said. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise!”

“So’s this,” Cadance said. “You’re lucid-dreaming?”

“A little gift from the shared heritage,” Blueblood said with a modest shrug. “I quite like it. Nothing as big as planet moving, eh?”

“You can say that again,” Cadance chuckled.

Blueblood gave her a quick hug, before stepping back. “What are you doing running around through my head? Giving your Alicorn-ness a whirl? Or did you fancy joining me on an expedition?!”

He made an expansive gesture at the ship.

Cadance chuckled. “Well, Bluey, suddenly I understand the way you stay sane with all those aristocrats.”

“Ah, they’re alright for the most part,” Blueblood waved off, “but I long for the days when I could go on a round-the-world ride on the Starspear, just me and the lads!”

“And so…” Cadance gestured at the ship.

“Ah, right, the Galleon!” Blueblood said. “Recent hobby of mine – obviously flying an airship round in my own head has certain limits that makes the adrenaline rush… inadequate, shall we say.”

Cadance laughed. “You’re an adrenaline junkie!”

“Well, a little,” Blueblood said with a shrug. “You said yourself, I deal with aristocrats all day. There are many endorphins one no doubt gets shot through one’s system, dealing with those chaps -”

“Not an admission you’d want to make to Auntie Luna.”

“- but adrenaline is not one of them.” He shrugged. “Still, duty calls.”

Cadance’s laugh subsided. “Actually, that’s part of what I needed to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” Blueblood said. “I figured you had to have a reason to visit, but…”

“There’s some kind of unknown creature,” Cadance said simply. “The Princesses are dealing with it, but the situation might escalate. Me and Shiny are coming up to help them deal with it: they might need -”

“The aristocracy,” Blueblood finished. “Right, when I wake up I’ll get started on buttering some lads up. If Auntie C needs to raise a few levies or ask for some money towards an expansion or something, I’m sure my ‘friends’ will oblige.”

Cadance shook her head. “I don’t know how you deal with that horseapples.”

“Navigating politics is like navigating anything else,” Blueblood said with a wink. “Just needs the right compass. Now then, if you’ll excuse me.”

He grabbed the rope, and was suddenly hoisted back up to his ship. Cadance sighed.

“See you soon, Cousin,” she whispered. And then she was gone.

The Train To Canterlot. May 4th.

Twilight looked out the window across the vast green wilderness between Ponyville and Canterlot. The distance always seemed so small in maps, yet the journey took a good few hours, and there seemed to be so much nature in-between the two places, boggling the mind with its beauty.

A jewel unparalleled in her beauty, nature tamed, not as a beast harnessed but a friend made, Twilight thought, quoting a poem she had read from Marestotle or some such philosopher of old. But the jewel was imperilled, now. If Celestia meant to do what the human had suggested…

“War,” Applejack said suddenly, bringing Twilight’s attention back to the here and now. The Earth Pony looked tired, as though she’d been up all night: there were bags under her eyes, and her hat was on at a crooked angle, as though she’d put it on in a rush.

“That’s what it might come to,” Twilight said quietly.

“It’s crazy, ain’t it?” Applejack asked, giving Twilight a rueful smile. “Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever thought about wars before, ‘cept as a thing that comes up in some o’ those history books Cheerilee makes Applebloom read.”

“It’s the Death Tree’s doing,” Rainbow Dash said quietly. She looked little better off than Applejack. “Like I said – it’s a -”

“Would you give your darn tree a rest?” Applejack snapped. “Our kith and kin’ll be sent to fight and die, don’t you get that? An’ all the while, you’re goin’ on about some darn legend!”

Rainbow’s nostrils flared angrily for a second, but she wisely decided to remain silent. After a moment, she looked out of the window, clearly not interested in talking.

None of the others said anything. Pinkie and Fluttershy both looked miserable, which was understandable, under the circumstances. Rarity, meanwhile, was busy sketching something.

“How can you work at a time like this?” Applejack asked the seamstress irritably.

“It helps me,” Rarity replied shortly. “And if I’m right…” She brought the paper up, showing the group the drawing – a series of small symbols upon the loose impression of an arm. “This should help us.”

“Those are…” Twilight began slowly. “The symbols on Reiner’s body. You drew them?”

“I believe they’re some sort of runes,” Rarity said. “I drew them from memory. The marks on his body are some kind of tattoos, I think, though Celestia only knows what they might represent.”

“They glowed,” Fluttershy put in. “When he tried to destroy himself, and when he tried to… when he grabbed me,” she corrected herself. “What was it Redheart said?”

“That the markings were thaumically reactive,” Twilight said quietly, frowning as she ran possibilities through her mind. “The blood wasn’t, but his markings were.”

“Even if that’s true,” Rainbow said quietly, “what good’s it do us?”

Twilight took the drawing. “I think I know somepony who might have an idea, when we get to Canterlot.”

“Who?” Pinkie asked, speaking for the first time in a while.

“One of my old Professors,” Twilight clarified. “He’s… a bit of an old eccentric, but he studied arcane lore like this.”

“The Princesses would know something, surely?” Rarity asked.

“They might,” Twilight agreed with a sad smile, “but I think they’re probably a bit preoccupied with other things, don’t you?”

Palatial Chambers, Canterlot.

Prince Blueblood’s living quarters in Canterlot palace were, to be blunt, atrocious.

Princess Luna would have been lying if she had said that she didn’t resent needing to go wake the most well-known layabout of the entire Equestrian royal family. Part of it was that she didn’t particularly like him: to awake from a thousand years to find that Princes of the royal house of Unicornia were less the heroic, disciplined, trained warriors and diplomats that she had left behind, and more a collection of foppish dandies.

This room was, disappointingly enough, just what she had come to expect. Strewn clothes all about, more than a few empty wine bottles, and – Luna wrinkled her nose in disgust – at least one set of mare’s underwear that she could only imagine came from a courtesan of some description.

And this is the heir of the Unicornian line, she thought with a scowl,

“Blueblood!” she called irritably. “Astron Blueblood, where are you?!”

There was a momentary pause, and then, from the bedroom, there came the slouched, naked (What sort of Canterlot noble sleeps naked?) figure of Astron Blueblood, blonde mane messy and eyes bleary. He blinked at her.

“Auntie L?” he said dazedly. “What are you doing here? I’m not having a nightmare.”

“You’re wide awake, Blueblood,” Luna replied stiffly,. “For a given value therein.”

He blinked, frowning, before his eyes widened in realisation.

“Oh!” he said. “Cadance’s message! I remember.”

“She spoke to you, then?” Luna asked.

“Quite a pleasant chat, actually,” he told her, going to one of his tables with a yawn. He picked up a glass and an unmarked bottle and poured a drink of what looked like red wine. “Want one?”

“No, thank you,” Luna replied with a grimace.

“Suit yourself, Auntie,” Blueblood said with a smile, before downing the entire glass and pouring another one.

Luna wrinkled her nose once again. “Don’t you think it is a little early for that kind of drinking?”

“Hardly,” Blueblood replied with a smirk. “I know for a fact there’s a few old chums of mine who’s still be on last night’s bender right about now, and probably will be ‘til this time tomorrow.” He raised his glass in a mock toast. “Might as well show solidarity with the colts, eh?”

Luna shook her head wearily. “Just… make yourself presentable. The situation Cadance warned you about is more serious than we had previously imagined, and your… expertise will be required.”

“Oh?” Blueblood asked. “How serious are we talking?”

“War,” Luna said simply.

Blueblood blinked, before downing his wine in one gulp.

“Right then,” he said, sounding ironically more sober than before. “I assume Auntie Celestia would like to -”

“Speak with you presently,” Luna finished, “yes. Hence -”

“Becoming presentable, quite so,” Blueblood said, picking up a brush and neatening his mane perfunctorily. His horn glowed for a moment, and the worst of the bags under his eyes disappeared. “Times like this I’m glad I conned Professor Trotsworth into teaching me that anti-hangover spell.”

“Indeed,” Luna said with a sigh. “Just… show up soon, yes?”

“Can do,” Blueblood said. “Ta ta, Auntie L.”

Without another word, Luna stalked out of the chambers, glad to finish her business with Blueblood as quickly as she had.

Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.

Twilight trotted along the corridor, feeling an unreasonable wave of nervousness in her stomach.

Well, is it entirely unreasonable? she considered. There's so much that could be going on, so many questions…

She shook her head as she trotted, making sure to keep her saddlebag secure. Fortunately for her, even with Celestia preoccupied with matters of state, there were others she could ask for help.

The first port of call would have been her old headmaster - unfortunately, Spell Nexus was “on an important joint archaeological trip with the Zebra historical council at the moment, and can’t be contacted yet”. So she went in search of another of her old teachers.

She approached a door at the end of the corridor. Twilight smiled softly as she saw the simple sign on his office door, with a simple wooden frame, the name Manewell Trotsworth printed on it in plain lettering.

He never was one for ostentation, she thought. It was reassuring to see that he apparently hadn’t changed that much.

She knocked gently on the door.

“One moment, please!” came a slightly harried-sounding voice. After a moment, the door opened, and a grey-maned and coated stallion popped his head out of the door. “Yes? Oh – Twilight Sparkle!”

“Professor Trotsworth?” Twilight greeted. “How are you?”

“Fine, fine!” he greeted. “Come in, come in!”

He stepped aside and Twilight entered his room. Sure enough, the office was in the same sort of general sparse configuration that she was familiar with from her days in school. There was a haze of smoke in the air, however.

“I do apologise,” he said. “We’ve had some - well, I suppose you'd call it, ‘experimental’ stuff come in.” He motioned to a desk nearby, where a few vials full of odd green and blue liquid were spewing the smoke. “I should be able to clear it up. Then we can talk about - what did you come to talk about?

“Well,” she said, “if you've got a moment, I need your help with something, Professor Trotsworth.”

His horn glowed blue, and a moment later the smoke began to dissipate. Once the last of the smoke had cleared, his horn glowed again, and a window opened at the back of his office.

“Whatever could that be, Ms Sparkle?” Trotsworth asked. “If I recall correctly, you’ve usually proven bright enough on your own to figure out any issues you’re faced with: certainly, what I’ve heard about your adventures – or should that be misadventures?” he added with a wry smirk, “in Ponyville demonstrate that.”

“Perhaps, but this is regarding something beyond my experience,” Twilight said. She retrieved Rarity’s scroll from her saddlebag. “If you could have a look at these?”

Upon the paper were rough sketches of what appeared to be runes. Trotsworth narrowed his eyes slightly, and looked over the scroll.

“Where did you get this?” he asked quietly.

“These are sketches my friend Rarity made, based on tattoos that were marked on a being called a human,” Twilight explained. “I was hoping you'd be able to help me ascertain their significance.”

“Perhaps, perhaps,” Trotsworth said quietly. “Curious: I believe some of these are familiar, but some of them most certainly are not.”

“Do you have any thoughts?” Twilight pressed.

Trotsworth looked her in the eye. “Be patient, young Unicorn. I’m certain the answer will reveal itself in due course.”

Twilight blushed. “Sorry, Professor. It’s just… this is important. The human…”

“I have no doubt it is important,” Trotsworth said, “and so I will make an effort to expedite my research.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “Leave it with me, Twilight. I’ll do what I can.”

Twilight nodded. “Thank you, Professor.”

She left his office feeling a little reassured: Trotsworth was one of the more accomplished professors in Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. Hopefully he’d be able to figure something out.

Ponyville Hospital.

It was not a good morning to visit Alexander Reiner.

He had been silent the entire time Lyra had been there, barely acknowledging her arrival. He seemed instead to be fixated with looking out the window, a forlorn expression in his face.

Lyra has stayed with him anyway. Her mind was racing – he had seemed so… so powerful, so dangerous, when he had threatened Fluttershy or when he had tried to destroy himself. But now... whatever injuries he’d taken were taking their toll. He was quiet, and seemed smaller.

“Will they help?” he whispered suddenly, and Lyra looked up. “Can I dare to hope?”

“Princess Celestia always comes through,” Lyra said quietly. “I mean… here, she does. Obviously not where you’re from.”

“Funnily enough, everypony I ever spoke to said that, for most of their lives, she’s been benevolent,” Alex said. “It was like… like some sort of slow change, starting a few years before the portal to Earth manifested. Then she started… changing. Becoming crueler, more tyrannical, more unforgiving…”

“Can we…” Lyra interrupted, feeling a little ill. “Can we talk about something else. Please?”

Alex gave her a blank look. “What?”

“Sorry, it’s just…” she shook her head. “This is all… a lot. You know? Hearing that the Princess who’s ruled your home for pretty much forever is actually a Tyrant somewhere else is… well, it’s not reassuring.”

Alex blinked, before nodding slowly. “I… yeah, okay. Sorry.” He paused. “What do you want to talk about instead?”

“Well…” Lyra hesitated. “What about you?”

“Me?” Alex said, frowning. “There’s… really, there’s not much to say.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Lyra said. “I mean, what about your family?”

Alex chuckled. “My family… my mom was a girl from some small part of Texas, but she met my Dad and they moved to… I dunno, some other small place, she never really spoke about it. My Dad… his name was Andrew Reiner, and he was… he was killed.”

Lyra put a hoof to her mouth. “Oh, no. I… may I ask…”

“He was a soldier, like me,” Alex said. “Got himself shot in the Gulf War. Mom didn’t like to talk about it much. After that, she met a guy called Dan Radwick. Great guy, I guess. Businessman. Moved around a lot, so we followed him. Mom and I took his name, so did I, and I didn’t learn much about my Dad from her. She… didn’t like to talk about it.”

His mouth thinned into a hard line, and he brought a hand up to his neck.

“I guess…” he continued. “I guess I didn’t really know much about my Dad until… until Granddad Al died.”

“Granddad Al?” Lyra repeated. “Your…”

“Dad’s Dad,” Alex clarified. “Albert Reiner. He had a bunch of his old diaries he left to me, a bunch of Dad’s old stuff… he’d lived through a lot of shit. Some of it not so good.” His expression grew distant. “I wanted to know more, but Mom… didn’t want to talk about it. Still. She’d moved on. Maybe she was scared I’d follow Dad’s footsteps, go off trying to be a soldier.”

“You did, though,” Lyra guessed. “Didn’t you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Alex laughed. “Right after I changed my name back to Reiner. I remember Mom and Dan trying to talk me out of it. Dan… he was cool with the name, he just worried, but Mom…” He sighed. “She started screaming, yelling about how I’d go die stupidly for some guy in a suit and his bank balance. ‘Just like a Reiner’.”

He shook his head, running a hand through his short hair.

“That was the last time we spoke,” he said quietly. “I mean… you know, we resented each other a lot. She resented me for being so much like Dad, reminding her of him, when she still… and I resented her for changing the name, not telling me about him… then there was what happened with Maxine and Mary…”

“Maxine and Mary?” Lyra repeated. “Who are they?”

Alex chuckled. “Mary… Mary’s my sister. Full blooded one. When I was growing up, she and I were really close.” He paused. “She was born right before Dad died, I think. For a while everything was okay, but then Maxine came along, Dan’s daughter…”

He paused, closing his eyes.

“Are you alright?” Lyra asked.

“Yeah,” Alex said. “Just… old baggage. Maxine was always Mon’s favourite, growing up. I guess she didn’t remind anyone of their dead husband, right?” His expression grew sour. “I guess I’ve been unfair to her, too. She never did anything wrong, tried helping even, but I resented her. We… before Mom died… we didn’t speak to each other much. We talked more, recently… after…”

He put a hand over his eyes, rubbing sand out of them, before lying back on his bed.

“Damn them,” he whispered. “They took so much. Maxine and Mary… they both used to be so happy, y’know? Then…”

“It’s alright if you don’t want to go on,” Lyra said. “I’m sorry to bring up painful memories.”

“Everything’s painful,” Alex said dully. “Every damn thing I remember. There’s nothing good left. Nothing clean. It’s all covered in grime and blood, and the sounds are all screaming. I can’t recall the taste of good food, or the sound of water, or the smell of grass.” He snorted. “I’m naked. Naked in the dark. Nothing between me and the fire.”

Lyra swallowed, unsure what to say. Was that a side effect of the… the whatever it was in his head? Or was it just that he’d been worn down by everything he’d done?

“It’s weird,” he said after a moment. “You and I… we’ve had this conversation. I’ve told you this before. But I haven’t.”

“I guess it’s not the only thing that’ll be weird,” Lyra said with a weak chuckle.

“Never told you about Mary’s…” he added as though he hadn’t heard her. “You died before then.”

Lyra didn’t know what to say to that, so she put a hoof on his bed. He rested his hand on top of it.

“I’m… so happy,” he whispered. “I don’t care if this goes ass over tits later. Right now, you’re alive. That… that might be the best thing that’s happened to me in years.” He closed his eyes. “God, Lyra, the things I’ve done… all I wanted to do was keep it the way you wanted it. Keep it pure. But that bastard Gardner, Defiance… it’s all muck, Lyra. All shit. I failed you. I failed you…”

His eyes stayed closed.

“I think,” a voice said from behind Lyra, “that he’s asleep.”

Lyra looked to see Redheart staring at them both, a strange, almost wistful expression on her face.

“Nurse,” Lyra said softly. “Are you alright?”

“Me? Of course,” Redheart said, smiling. “Are you? I was in the doorway for a few moments… it sounded like a… well, a heavy conversation.”

“Yeah,” Lyra said. She looked at Alex’s sleeping form. “I guess. But worth it, y’know. He’s…”

“A remarkable creature,” Redheart suggested.

“Yeah,” Lyra said. “A remarkable human.”

“Well, you never know,” Redheart said with a shrug. “Maybe they’re all like that.”

“Maybe,” Lyra said. “Maybe every creature is remarkable. In its own way.”

“That’s a nice thought,” Redheart said softly.

Lyra stood up. “I’m gonna head off, get some coffee, make my way back in a little while. Please let me know if anything changes.”

“Of course, Ms Heartstrings,” Redheart said. “Don’t worry. Your… new friend… is safe with us.”

Lyra smiled. “Thanks, Redheart. I appreciate that.”

She trotted out of the room, her head still spinning with everything Alex had spoken about. The way he’d spoken to her… for a moment, she’d thought it sounded like a lover, but upon reflection, it sounded more like…

… more like a confession. Or a prayer to a God.

Redheart sighed as Lyra Heartstrings left the room, before looking at Alex Reiner.

Well, they always say that humanity is large and contains multitudes, she thought. Good to know this one feels remorse.

She’d learned long ago that her enemies – no matter what they seemed like – were just creatures like her. Fighting for whatever they believed in. Although this war was different – and some nagging part of her kept wanting to think of humans as unfeeling monsters worthy only of conversion or destruction – she still felt a degree of something resembling respect.

I guess we all do what we think we have to, not necessarily what we enjoy. She checked Reiner’s pulse, then his temperature.

He was stable, but he didn’t seem to be getting much better, and there was only so much traditional healing spells could do for him without stretching the boundaries of her cover. Sure, she knew how to heal a human (she remembered desperately applying healing magic to a PER member, trying to keep them from spilling their guts out onto the floor), but ‘Nurse Redheart’ had no way of knowing how to do anything for him. She couldn’t risk healing him, not without blowing her cover.

If ‘we’ don’t learn more about you soon, she thought with a sigh, I won’t have to kill you.

“How do you use a weapon of ultimate mass destruction when it can stand in judgement on you?”
The General, Doctor Who: “The Day of the Doctor”.

…the world it is weak it is soft it is and here I am the past is freed I am the future I am the power I am the king I am and they will bow they will see they will understand and…

…wait.

Waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait

Sonskinsonscumsonstinkingslimyfilthputriddiseasedfailuremyfailuredisgustingdiseased…

Not. Dead. Yet.

Where are you swarm of my flesh, son of my skin, scum and stinking, putrid and pathetic and

Wait.

Who are you familiar yet stranger kin yet not kin thin blood smells of -

“Now, just who are you searching for?”

Canterlot Palace Vault, May 4th, Year 3 Era Harmonia.

Celestia and Luna had arrived at Canterlot with all haste, and immediately Celestia had led the two of them down to the palace vault. The vault – so Luna understood (having never visited it in her short time being back amongst ponies) was a repository of ancient and forbidden magics. A place where, according to Celestia, a lot of the magical flotsam that had populated the world a thousand years ago had been placed to protect the world from the harm they could cause.

“Would that we’d had a place like this in the old castle,” Celestia commented with a wry smile as they went down several flights of stairs.

“What are we seeking?” Luna asked. “Some sort of weapon to aid Alexander Reiner?”

“I wouldn’t dare use the weapons down here,” Celestia said with a snort. “Most of them were Sombra’s.”

Luna scowled. “I see. Better to keep them here, then. But what could be down here that could help us, if not a weapon?”

Celestia led her down a corridor at the base of the stairs, towards a set of large, brass double doors, before opening them onto a small room, a single box in the centre. It was covered in arcane symbols and runes.

“What… what is this?” Luna asked, frowning at it. “It can’t be…”

“The Concordia Maxima,” Celestia whispered. “The summons of Equus.”

“But this was a myth,” Luna said. “A myth, older than -”

“I found it, a long time ago, about two centuries after your banishment,” Celestia said, cutting her off. “I wanted to give it to Sint Erklass – of all the beings in Equus, I thought he would be worthy. But he refused. Said it belonged with me.”

“You’re going to summon the entire world,” Luna whispered. “To war.”

“To meet, and if they agree, to war,” Celestia clarified. “They won’t all answer. The box may not even recognise my moral authority. But if it does…”

“It’s true, then,” Luna said. “About the box’s mind.”

“Oh, yes,” Celestia said with a wry smile. “Very. I strongly suspect it was given a mind precisely because of its power. The moral authority of the world. Beyond kings, beyond Alicorns, beyond anything living. Made by the lost Old Ones, long before the first pony, before any history remembered by any creature. No wonder they gave it a soul.”

“Do we have the right to use that power?“ Luna asked.

“If by doing so we may save another world?” Celestia asked in turn. “I have to try, Luna, or I may prove to stand idle over an atrocity unlike any we have ever heard about.” She paused. “I won’t ask you to stay with me.”

“I’ll stay,” Luna said at once.

Celestia gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you, sister.”

She sighed, before resting her horn on the box, letting a soft glow envelope it and herself. Luna tensed, wondering what might happen – no creature had ever used the box, not in living memory.

There is…

… something.

Who calls/Who summons/Who probes me/us?

There is an awareness of your presence and you pause, uncertain how to respond, what to say.

Who asks/who would question/who would enquire of me/us?

What does it/unknown seek/demand/ask for?

Why does it/unknown touch my/our mind/enter my/our soul/commune with my/our essence?

“Hello?” you try to say, not even sure if words are coming out of whatever you perceive to be your mouth.

It/unknown speaks/communes.

“I…” you swallow, trying to calm yourself. You feel something akin to fear. “I am Celestia, Princess -”

Princess Celestia/Leader of Ponies/Alicorn/Ascended.

It/Celestia/Alicorn wants/demands aid/succour.

It/Celestia/Alicorn wants/demands my/our support/assistance. It/Celestia/Alicorn needs/requires judgement/evaluation.

Begin

There is pain, and pressure in your mind. Everything you were, everything you are, everything you could be, is laid bare before whatever it is that you are with, every deed examined in minuscule detail. And then –

Judgement/evaluation rendered/complete.

There is a flash of light.

The Kirin Imperial Palace, Kyiroto.

The Imperial Palace, as usual, was quiet, despite being situated within the middle of the massive and noisy city of Kyiroto. Only the sound of shuffling hooves and the scratching of quills disturbed the silence of the palace’s great halls.

Mikado Toshiro Kane, esteemed ruler and emperor of Ryuppon and the Kirin race, kept his face impassive as he looked over the parchment in his hands. Business never ended in his empire, no matter what happened and even the emperor had his place within the labyrinthine bureaucracy that defined his empire and every aspect of life within its borders. His eyes roamed back and forth behind his glasses as yet another proposal lay in front of him, ready to be approved or dismissed depending on his judgment and his ability to discern the meaning behind the words written on it.

“Minister Kurama’s proposal will be dismissed today,” the mikado mumbled to himself, taking an ink and stamp and pressing the ‘denied’ symbol onto the stapled parchment stack.

An attendant, who had been waiting in the shadows then stepped forward, took the stack in their magic and whisked it away to be processed.

Toshiro then pulled another collection of parchment proposals from the large pile on one end of his desk and put in front of him for review. It was yet another request for prioritisation in shipping for one corporate group over all of the others who wanted access to Kyiroto’s docking facilities.

He was in the middle of reading through the opening proposal when an almost indescribable sensation washed through him, jarring him from his professional equilibrium. Toshiro straightened in his throne, his eyes wide and focused on the other end of his cavernous throne room.

The bizarre feeling was there for a moment and then it was gone but a lingering sensation remained. Toshiro knew, from the moment he first felt it, what the feeling meant.

The Call, Toshiro thought to himself, his unsettled expression returning to it’s usual, austere frown. He knew what it meant, and who it had come from, and his mind began working. The Call… the summons of the Concordia Maxima.

I always suspected that Celestia had it: curious that she should choose to use it now. I wonder what has happened…

Regardless of things he did not know, Toshiro knew that he must immediately react. This situation required appropriate planning, and appropriate response.

Glancing at the distant, shadowed ceiling, Toshiro reached up with his magic, his forked horn lighting up as he reached and pulled a hidden bell-pull. A second later, two other attendants stepped out of the shadows, hurried over to a gong and rang it.

A rich, brass note echoed through the throneroom and out into the chambers beyond. Seconds then passed as Toshiro schooled his face into his naturally stern expression. Finally, the enormous, carven doors of the throne room swung open with barely a sound and a single, richly dressed Kirin stag stepped through.

“Kuno,” Toshiro greeted in an even tone, the slight quirking of his lips the closest thing he could usually muster to a smile.

Prime Minister Kuno was an elderly Kirin stag, seemingly weighed down by his ornate robes of office and the various badges that were expected to be hung from it. Despite this seeming frailty he possessed an almost unnatural endurance, keeping apace with his almost endless duties and executing them with a dry professionalism that shocked even the most experienced bureaucrat.

“Blessed Mikado,” Kuno said, bowing his head with a grace that his age did not hamper. “How may I serve?”

“The Call of the Concordia Maxima has been sounded,” Toshiro announced.

For an instant Kuno’s professionalism disappeared as his eyes widened and his mouth opened a little in shock. A second later this surprise disappeared and his placid expression returned, a raised eyebrow of curiosity the only concession to his emotions.

“I understand,” Kuno stated. “By whom?”

“It is in the possession of Celestia, Princess of Equestria,” Toshiro said bluntly.

“I see,” Kuno said quietly. “How are we planning to proceed?”

“We have far too many investments with Equestria to ignore them,” Toshiro declared, the words laden with additional meanings.

Kuno nodded, the small gesture setting off a flurry of activity in the throne room’s periphery as the attendants and petty courtiers noticed the subtle signal to begin making arrangements with the rest of the government. It took only a minute for them to leave the throne room to perform their duties. Alone with his prime minister, Toshiro moved his desk aside and got up from his throne.

“There are things to be considered for the Concordat to come,” Toshiro said as he descended from his throne’s massive stepped dias.

“Of course,” Kuno replied, the older stag looking Toshiro in the eye. Both of them relaxed a little, their stances becoming less rigid and Kuno drooping a little as he finally showed his age.

“I want a list of personnel, equipment and products to be drawn up,” Toshiro declared, taking off his glasses. “Everything that we have, everything that we can provide at the Concordat and everything we can ask for in return. I want multiple contingencies drawn for: we do not yet know what circumstances dictated the necessity for the Call to be made.”

“Of course,” Kuno agreed. “I already have everything prepared.”

“Very good,” Toshiro said in response. He paused briefly. “We can’t let an opportunity like this to pass us by.”

“As you say,” Kuno agreed.

Taur Alpharius

Darkhoof of the Minotaurs scowled as he sat in his chambers, pondering a scientific conundrum. Notes were scattered across his mahogany desk, scribbling and scratchings that combined to form a tapestry of frankly inarticulate gibberish to anyone who did not happen to be Darkhoof himself.

A knock sounded from his heavy wooden door, but he paid it no mind. Standing to his full, somewhat imposing (even for a Minotaur) height, Darkhoof crossed his chamber towards his telescope. By the grace of the Alicorn sisters, the sun was already setting in Taurus, and the city of Taur Alpharius was illuminated by the orange glow of the fiery orb as it descended.

So, Darkhoof said, pointing his telescope at the darkening sky and calming himself. Let us begin again.

The knock at the door returned, and Darkhoof scowled.

“Whoever it is, go away!” he yelled. “I am preoccupied with important matters and am not to be disturbed!”

“Forgive me, wise Darkhoof,” a soft voice came from the doorway, “but I come from the Ekklesia. They have requested your opinion.”

Darkhoof closed his eyes and counted to ten, trying his best to remain calm.

“Hold on,” he said quietly. “I’ll be there presently.”

He stepped away from his telescope, before going to his door and unlocking it. Without bothering to open it, he went back to his telescope.

“Enter as you will!” he said irritably. “But do not disturb my work!”

A small, timid looking bull likely no older than eighteen – the minimum age for serving the Ekklesia in any capacity – entered the room, carrying a scroll.

“W-wise Darkhoof,” he began, holding out the scroll, but Darkhoof simply ignored him.

“Do the Ekklesia know what they are interrupting?!” he barked irritably as he returned to his telescope. “I am but a few short weeks work from proving beyond the shadow of doubt’s clutches that the stars we observe in the sky at night are suns all their own!”

“W-wise Darkhoof,” the young bull began again.

“Imagine the implications!” Darkhoof said as he continued to mess with the telescope. “Suns that sit solitary without an Alicorn or a Unicorn sorcerer caste to move them! Or stranger yet, suns with their own Alicorn, their own Unicorn castes!”

“Oh wise D-Darkhoof…”

“And stranger yet, I could have sworn that these stationary stars have the shadow of worlds circling them,” Darkhoof added, his voice becoming quieter, filled with awe. “More than one or two. Indeed, mayhap there are no other stars within our sight that move at the behest of an Alicorn.”

“G-great and w-wise Darkhoof, please…”

“Just think of what that could mean!” Darkhoof continued unabated. “Imagine what this could mean! Perhaps our own sun once stayed still, and we once travelled around it!” He grinned. “This could tie in to my theories about the precursor -!”

“Wise Darkhoof!”

“Oh, what is it?!” Darkhoof yelled, turning to look at the cowering bull, who was holding his scroll out at the scientist almost in a warding gesture.

He paused when he saw the scroll, and blinked at it dumbly for a moment before grabbing it and unrolling it. He frowned in confusion at the contents.

To Darkhoof,

The entire Ekklesia has felt what can only be described as a ‘Call’, coming from Equestria. We have surmised that, given the nature of it and the absence of other potential options, it may be an effect caused by the Concordia Maxima of legend. Knowing your interest in these matters of myth, we ask you to go to Equestria with an honour guard, first to ascertain the truth of this apparent effect, and secondly to act as our ambassador to the Equestrians.

Signed,
Speaker Thoughtful Response, the Ekklesiasterion.

“And the Ekklesia is sure about this?” he asked.

“T-they did not tell me what was on the scroll, sir,” the bull said apologetically.

Darkhoof sighed, before grabbing a scroll of paper and scribbling down a note. “Deliver this to Steadfast Resolve of the the citizen militia posthaste, and then return to me with his reply.”

The young bull grabbed the note and nodded. “At once, sir.”

And then he dashed off, leaving Darkhoof alone with his contemplations. The Concordia Maxima, indeed: one of the key artefacts of the Precursors, long since thought lost (or even nonexistent), revealed to be in the hooves of Celestia of Equestria (because of course it was).

Well, the scientist thought, scratching his chin thoughtfully. This might prove to be an intriguing mystery.

Queen Chrysalis’ Hive.

Deep within her personal cavern, Chrysalis, Queen of the Hive, lifted her head, her eyes widening. She stood, her insectoid wings spreading out, feeling her chitin click and crack as she walked.

That feeling, she thought, sniffing the air. It is a call, is it not? But from whom…

And yet the answer was apparent even as she thought it, lancing through her mind and heart with the power and deadliness of an arrow. She grinned maliciously.

So… Celestia has called for help, has she? she thought. The irony of it was delicious, almost as sweet as the taste of love in the air.

With but a thought, she summoned attendants to her side, a host of Changelings surrounding her. Without a single word, she instructed them as to their roles and tasks in the hours ahead, and with silent acknowledgement they zoomed off, to do the tasks their Queen bade them to.

Well, then, if Celestia truly needs help, Chrysalis thought, let us see what help she will take from we Changelings… and what she my offer in return.

The Imperial Palace, Adlerdorf, The Griffon Empire.

Queen Hedwig of the Griffons finished her note off, scratching her signature out and smiling as she finished. Her desk at was a fairly simple one, with none of the gold decorations or ostentation that some of her ministers preferred. That was alright, though: she preferred the simplicity of it all.

She picked up a small bell from her desk and rang it. After a moment, one of her attendants entered the room.

“Ah, Garrett,” she said with a kindly smile. “Have this note copied at the printing room, and then deliver the copies to General Archibald Garson and Prime Minister Gillard, please.”

“As you wish, your majesty,” Garrett said, bowing. “It will be done at once.”

“Marvellous, Garrett,” Hedwig said, still smiling. “After that, if you could arrange for my private airship and guard to prepare for a sojourn.”

“Of course, your majesty,” Garrett said. “May I ask to where?”

“Equestria, Garrett,” Hedwig said simply.

Garrett, to his credit, didn’t pause for more than a moment. “Of course, your majesty. I’ll have extra fuel prepared for the journey.”

“Thank you, Garrett,” Hedwig said.

He left, and Hedwig returned to write another note. After all, she had to let her family know that she would be going on a trip. No doubt Prince Tobias would enjoy the excursion, and he and his dragoons would certainly be prudent guards to have around.

Let us see what Celestia has to say, Hedwig thought, that is so important as to require the Concordia Maxima in order to say it.

You feel lightheaded, and stagger where you stand. There is a dull silence on the air.

“H-hello?” you say. “What happened?”

It is done. The Call is sent, Celestia/Ascended. Prepare yourself.

You step back, uncertain, and then –

Celestia stepped back from the box, looking shaken and breathless. The Concordia glowed for a moment more, and then was silent. She blinked in surprise.

“I…” she whispered, looking at Luna. “I’m back?”

Luna frowned in confusion. “You never left, sister.”

Celestia blinked again, trying to recall what had happened.

“Did… did it work?” Luna asked her quietly.

Celestia smiled tiredly and looked to her sister. “Yes. I do believe it did.”

Luna looked from her to the box and back again. “What… what was it like?”

“Indescribable,” Celestia whispered, “just… it was like communing with something beyond our perception of time. It felt for a moment like everything I have done, everything I will do, was being judged.”

Luna smiled. “I knew you would have the purity of heart to do it.”

“Then you knew something I did not,” Celestia replied. She turned away. “Come. We have much to do.”

You little thing you little fool you do not see but I see I see it the written and unwritten the lies and the truth the sisters hidden and unhidden-

“You never shut up, do you?”

Your blood is thin, thing, thing of thin shade shadow, echo of design, purpose forgotten, weapon without a wielder, unwielded unwrought.

“Yawn. Alright, time to make this -”

…

“Oh.”

Foolish feeble thing. You would always have happened. My magic simply let it be. Mistake it was, monster, scum, scum, scum. I am Master of matter, manipulator and moulder, mesher and masher. Unworthy of the swarm you were. All things bend break snap, twist turn torment, before my wrath. I am all things and all things are mine. I am Whisper, Emperor, God.

“I know what you are, and yes, I know what I suppose I owe you. You’re the father of all Draconequii, after all.”

Stop me stop me stop me. Yes, that is what you said. Stop life? Foolish. I make it. You call me killer. They accuse me of destruction, destroyed, destroyer, destitute and diminished, once a lord of mighty armies and mightier magicks, now nothing, nothing, nothing…

“Yeah, I know. That doesn’t mean I can’t stop you.”

Stop me stop me stop me but I was the saviour, saver, saving, saved, made to save but didn’t, destroyed, destroyer, destitute and diminished, once a lord of mighty armies and mightier magicks, now nothing, nothing, nothing…

“So,” Luna said quietly. “With the call sent… who will it have reached?”

“In theory, every leader of every race and nation,” Celestia said quietly.

Luna nodded slowly. “And do you expect them all to come?”

“The Kirin will,” Celestia replied, “and hopefully the Minotaurs as well. I’m… less optimistic about the Changelings…”

“They’ve always had mixed relations with the rest of Equus,” Luna said quietly. “It’s their nature.”

“Indeed,” Celestia said quietly, “and Chrysalis is the most prominent of the Queens in our part of the world. She and I have a ‘difficult relationship’, shall we say.”

Luna snorted. “That is certainly one word you could use.”

At that moment, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Celestia called.

Astron Blueblood entered the room, looking perhaps slightly less dishevelled than he had when Luna had come to see him. He looked between his two aunts for a moment, before frowning.

“Sorry,” he said, “is now a bad time?”

“Not at all,” Celestia said quietly, smiling at him. “I need your advice on something.”

“Something to do with this war business Auntie Luna mentioned?” Blueblood guessed. “Can’t possibly imagine what I could tell you that you don’t already know, Auntie C.”

Luna scowled at the informal address, but Celestia merely smiled indulgently.

“How about, ‘how to get half the aristocracy to help fund it’?” she said with a dry smile.

Blueblood blinked, before chuckling. “Ah, yes, bits. Always comes down to that, eh?”

“Surely a tax would be sufficient?” Luna asked irritably.

“Not quite,” Celestia said. She motioned to Blueblood. “The aristocracy and the upper classes get… antsy, I suppose you could say, if you don’t bribe them, butter them up, or generally attend to their more petty demands before you start asking for more of their ‘hard earned’ bits.”

“Hence,” Blueblood said, “why I've become an expert at attending their petty demands.”

Luna raised an eyebrow. “Indeed?”

Blueblood chortled. “You didn’t think all my socialising was just for the scintillating company and the copious alcohol, did you? That’s just a handy bonus. Helps that I went to school with half these cads.”

“I didn’t want to ask,” Luna said. “I take it then you know how to… ‘butter up’ the nobles?”

“It’s been my life’s work,” Blueblood said more seriously, before scratching his chin thoughtfully. “I can probably get some favours called in to get an increase on taxes to the richer population through the parliament, but I think it’s important to offer some military building contracts to White Hart Line and Eagle Eye Corp.”

“To ensure their fiscal and political support, as well as to increase airship production?” Celestia guessed. At Luna’s questioning gaze, she smiled. “Spruce Dismay and Snake Eye are both political powerhouses, as well as being owners of airship corporations. They have considerable clout with the parliament.”

“Exactly,” Blueblood said, smiling. “Still, I’ll need to know a little more about this thing to sell it to some of my more… conservative drinking buddies.”

“I will have a report written up,” Luna said simply, sharing a wry glance with Celestia. “In the meantime, we would be grateful if you would begin your work.”

“Can do,” Blueblood said. He threw a little mock salute. “Aunties.”

And with that, he sauntered out of the room.

“He’s so… irreverent,” Luna said after a moment. “We’re talking about war, and he treats it like a game.”

“He was raised by his father, Azure Haven, not his mother, Princess Silverblood,” Celestia said with a sigh. “Haven was… irresponsible with his money, and more irresponsible as a pony. I believe it rubbed off on Blueblood – not having to take life seriously will do that to you. Still, he knows his way around the aristocracy, and his heart is… usually in the right place. Cake incidents notwithstanding.”

“Cake incidents?”

“I’ll explain another time.”

“That’s… it. You’ve… lost. Surrender.”

Lost is nothing. Nothing is lost. Everything comes from nothing and to nothing returns. You… thing. Thing of my flesh, scion of my mistakes, fool. You smell it, yes? Smell the thing, the Abomination, IT is still out there. IT, the abomination. IT… IS!

“What are you babbling about?”

You will see. You will see and suffer and scream and beg for the help but in our past we could but delay it and now we are diminished we are destroyed we are defeated and we cannot stand in its way. Should have killed it. Should have killed it. Should have killed it. Foolish I was foolish I was failure I failed I failed and now everything will be destroyed.

“What are you talking about?”

Choices choice no choice no options no recourse. Malcour moulder moulded, Myrrdin meddler meddled made monsters. Magicks meant for magnanimity made for might, minted monstrosities, forged futile, fodder for the fight, failed and forgotten, the why forgotten, the what forgotten, weapon unwielded unwrought, wielded unwisely. Fools. Fools. Sorry. Failed. Forgotten. Foolhardy.

Celestia sighed as she stared out of her window at the city of Canterlot. Part of her was wondering just how long things would seem as peaceful as they did now. Another part of her accepted that peace was never permanent – eventually, something would always happen.

I've been so lucky over the years, she thought. I should be grateful I had the peace, not churlish at finally losing it. We shall see about rebuilding once the final toll is taken.

She felt a soft breeze at her back, and turned, to see a familiar, mismatched figure standing behind her. She blinked, before taking a step forward.

“Discord,” she breathed. “You’ve returned.”

He smiled wanly. “Hello Celly. How’re things…?”

He slumped to his knees, but held up a paw to forestall any effort to help on Celestia’s part, wincing as he did so.

“Kontagion,” she guessed.

“Imprisoned,” he said, wincing, before holding up a small, faintly vibrating crystal. “He… wasn’t as amenable as I’d hoped, but it seems I was just about… just about able to stymie him.”

“I’m grateful you could imprison him, rather than needing to destroy him,” Celestia said quietly.

“Be grateful Sint Erklass was clever enough to come up with this little trinket,” Discord said, still looking pained as he put the crystal on the floor, where the vibration became more pronounced. “Or I’d have been the one who was destroyed.”

Celestia felt the blood drain from her face. “He was that powerful.”

“Of course he was,” Discord said, scowling for a moment. “You didn’t think he was going to be easy to deal with, did you?”

“I had hoped he would not be… quite that much of a threat,” Celestia said quietly. “I didn’t want you to risk your life.”

“Yeah, well, shows what you know,” Discord said, sticking his tongue out. He sobered up after a moment. “He was the First. My people’s blood thinned long before I was born. His… his is the fire of a chaos that makes me look tame.”

Celestia sighed. “And now, finally, we can begin to heal him.”

Discord chuckled at that. “Admirable as I’m sure that idea is, you can’t heal him. He’s old and set in his ways, and his chaos isn’t rational or amiable. It’s raw, it’s cruel. It’ll take more than a kind butter-yellow Pegasus to make him go ‘good’.”

“And still, we must try,” Celestia said sadly.

Discord frowned, looking at the Crystal. “Yeah. I guess you must.” He winced in pain again. “So. He’s dealt with. What now?”

“Now?” Celestia asked. “As I said. Provided you choose not to threaten Equestria or the rest of the free world again, I am willing to allow you your freedom.” She paused. “However…”

“However, there’s another mess you need my help with,” Discord said, almost grumbling. “How did I guess. Couldn’t possibly be you using that overgrown foghorn you activated.”

“You felt that?”

“I tasted that. Very minty.”

Celestia suppressed a smirk, and then she sighed. He was grouching, nothing more. He would help: the strangest thing about Discord, at least in her experience, was that he was malicious only in the sense that he rebelled heavily against authority. He did not wish harm, only for himself to have fun… and freedom. It was only the fact that his fun came at the expense of others that had made him and the Alicorn enemies, and for the moment those instincts had been curbed.

“For now,” she said, “rest. And we will speak in the morning.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Discord said, waving a claw. “See ya, Celly.”

And then he was gone, leaving the little crystal on the floor where it still vibrated.

“Ah, Kontagion,” Celestia whispered. “Sint Erklass said you were once of a nobler kind. One is torn between wondering what you were, and wondering what could have brought you so low.”

She felt nothing but malice from the little crystal, and with a sigh, her horn glowed, flashing the crystal to a special cell she had long prepared for Kontagion. For a moment, Celestia breathed easier.

“You've summoned them all, then,” a soft, gently lilting voice suddenly said from behind her. “The Griffons, the Changeling kind, the Kirin, the Minotaurs, even the creature, Discord. That is well. You're going to need all the allies you can get in the war that is to come.”

Celestia turned, to find herself facing a hooded mare, standing by a pillar. She narrowed her eyes at the figure. She was tall, her cloak not hiding her stature.

“Who are you?” she asked. “How did you get in here?”

The figure, in response, pulled down the hood she wore with a burst of ice-blue magic, revealing a shadow-grey mare, equally icy eyes staring at Celestia from within a stern, flinty expression. A black mane flowed behind her, moving not unlike Celestia’s own.

“Who are you?” Celestia demanded again, though she couldn’t shake the feeling she had met this mare before.

“Do you not know?” the mare asked. “We have not spoken, but we came into this world together. Sint Erklass maybe spoke of me in your youth, when I was already old enough to begin mine long vigilance.”

Celestia blinked. “You… you’re…”

“I am the keeper of the plan of our existence, the scribe of our destinies as laid down by our mother-creator, and the last remnant of the works of the forgotten Centauri,” the figure said.

She cast aside her cloak, and a pair of wings flexed, before expanding outward, revealing the full form of an Alicorn. She was grey all over, with a charcoal mane and tail, and a cutie mark that resembled nothing so much as a stylised eye symbol, rendered in black and white.

“I am your sister and keeper both, Celestia. My name is Galatea. And I need your help.”

If there’s one thing I wish actual SPECTRUM actually had, it’s the perspective of the Concordia. I feel like it’s kind of a missed opportunity, and that’s mainly my fault because I wrote that section in the original and never got round to adding the Concordia’s dialogue with Celly in. Still, I’ve done it now 🙂

“Together we’re gonna change the world, man.”
Kevin Flynn to CLU 2, Tron Legacy.

In the beginning…

The Alicorn rolled her shoulders, feeling a stiffness in her joints that belied her apparent youth. Her red mane flowed from the crown of her pale head, past a slender horn and down an elegant neck, brushing against two regal wings on her back.

The stiffness she felt wasn't helped by the damp cave in which she was conducting her latest – and last – experiment. But the research was important enough to warrant the discomfort. It was the culmination of her research, and the legacy of all that had come before her.

Three figures – ponies all, two at least six feet tall and the third shorter – were stood in front of her, each surrounded by a cocoon of golden light that wove around them in strings of energy. Though little could be made of the figures, the fact that each was endowed with a long, slender horn and wings tucked neatly at their sides was obvious.

“Art thou done yet with thy rituals?” a voice asked from behind her.

The Alicorn smiled, and did not turn. “Patience is a virtue, teacher.”

“Not for us, and not now,” the voice said quietly. “Thou hast been granted more than enough time with which to toy with thine creations.”

“Then grant me but a little longer to toy, Oh teacher, and both they and I will be ready,” the Alicorn said. She turned to face the speaker – a tall bipedal figure clad in a grey cloak, its features hidden from view – and smiled. “One would think that thou wouldst have learned patience in the eons thou hast existed.”

“Eons are a fraction of infinity, and in such reckoning all are young,” the figure replied curtly. It seemed to look upon the three ponies, encased in their cocoons. “Will these… things of yours work?”

“Mine children, you mean?” the Alicorn said, her tone somewhat testy. “Yes. They will ‘work’, if you wish to be so crude about living creatures.” Her tone softened. “They will be perfect.”

“That is a bold claim,” the figure said, its tone neither approving or disapproving.

The Alicorn snorted. “One would think a spirit would learn to recognise hyperbole, but even so, I do not believe I speak so far from the truth.” She paused, looking over each figure in turn. “Each of mine children complements the other – the eldest is a being of logic and rationality, who shall oversee the world they are to make. The youngest shall be the emotional centre, a being of empathy and feeling. The middle shall be the decider, the one who leads, the one who combines the strength of the others. The three will balance each other's strengths and failings, act as the counterweight for the strengths of the others.”

The figure said nothing for a long moment, seemingly contemplating what the Alicorn had said. She contented herself with watching her works finalise, features beginning to show themselves.

“Do not be too proud of these alchemical creations you have concocted, Faust,” the figure said after a time. “They may have eternal life, and they may have the power of the spirits, but their hearts and minds are mortal – and as thou sayest thyself, they have failings. They are fallible, Faust, and so it is as likely that they may fall as it is for them to rise.”

The Alicorn – Faust – smiled again. “They are fallible, ‘tis true, but I have faith they shall make the right choices, walk the right path.”

The figure snorted. “It is very strange that, for one who hast seen such horror and bloodshed, thou art so optimistic. Faith can be a dangerous thing, Alicorn.”

“Faith is neither good nor bad,” Faust retorted. “It is a belief in something, whether that is a higher power or merely in thine own comrades and friends.”

“These creations are not unique in all of the vastness of existence,” the figure said, motioning to them. “Dost thou think thou art the only one of thineself?”

“I know I am,” Faust replied with confidence.

“Really?” the figure said, and now there was disapproval in its tone. “I thought better of thee, Faust. Thou art one of countless billions and trillions of thineself, each faced with a variant on the choices you made, stretching out across infinity until the ending of all that is.” The figure motioned to the room around them. “Whether thine ‘children’ are born of mortals or ascended from them, whether they are born in this age or that, whether they take this path or that, they are not unique. They are but another iteration. And amongst those iterations, there are more than a few that have fallen far from the paths that thou wouldst wish them to tread.”

Faust smiled. “So it is with all children, spirit; they choose their own destinies. Even if you set down a path for them to follow, they may choose their own.”

“And so thou wouldst create anew these beings, knowing that they may fall?” the figure asked.

“I would give mine children the chance to live a life,” Faust countered. “With that chance, that gift, they will do what they wilt. That is what life is about. Choice.”

“Choice, indeed,” the figure said derisively. “Some would say that it is choice that doomed your creators,”

“Perhaps. But the importance of choice is a lesson time hath taught to me,” Faust replied quietly, looking to the three Alicorns as the golden light began to recede. “A lesson time shall, in its due course, if fortune is kind, teach to them as well.” She smiled again. “And I do not fear the shadows of other lives for them, teacher.”

“Is that so?” the figure replied.

“Indeed,” Faust said, turning to look at the figure. “These are the only lives these three will live. Other lives are their own, and no matter how similar they are, they are not the same.” She smiled at the spirit again. “This is why I am confident when I say that I am the only one of myself. The other iterations of myself have their own lives and their own choices, no matter how much like me they are. I do not live their lives, and they do not live mine.”

There was a momentary pause at that.

“Perhaps,” the figure finally said, “thou art learning after all.”

Faust inclined her head and returned to her work. The figure said nothing for a long moment, before finally letting out what might have been a sigh.

“I will await thee at the cave’s entrance,” it said. “Be not overlong.”

Faust chuckled. “I will take as long a time as this takes, teacher, but it should not be long at all. We shall depart soon, and all shall be as I have promised thee.”

The figure departed, leaving Faust alone. The light by now had entirely receded, leaving three figures not unlike her own, save that they were less ravaged and raggedy than she had become.

She smiled – like herself, these beings were meldings of all the mightiest traits of each of the three pony kindreds. The strength of the Earth Ponies, the courage, free spiritedness and mastery of the sky granted to the Pegasi and the command of sorcery and arcane power gifted to the Unicorns.

She turned to the youngest of the three first. A midnight blue coat and regal blue mane greeted her, as did soft, kind features.

“Thou art Luna,” Faust said to this mare.

“I am Luna,” the mare repeated.

“Thine place is at the side of thine elder sister,” Faust said.

“Mine place is at the side of mine elder sister,” Luna repeated dully.

“Thou shalt be her moral compass, her heart’s guide, her conscience,” Faust said. “Thou shalt be the light of her life.”

“I shall be her moral compass, her heart’s guide, her conscience,” Luna repeated, her tone warming slightly and the edges of her lips curving upward slightly. “I shall be the light of her life.”

Faust nodded, turning to the middle sibling, an alabaster mare with a pink mane flowing down her face. “Thou art Celestia.”

“I am Celestia,” the Alicorn repeated.

“Thou art the balance of logic and feeling, empathy and rationality,” Faust told her. “Thy place is to guide, to teach, to protect, to nurture.”

“I am the balance of logic and feeling, empathy and rationality,” Celestia repeated, her voice melodious and calm. “My place is to guide, to teach, to protect, to nurture.”

Faust nodded. “Thou shalt be even tempered, kind and firm, wise and compassionate, strong when needed, a firmament for those you lead to gather around.”

“I shall be even tempered, kind and firm, wise and compassionate, strong when needed, a firmament for those I lead to gather around,” Celestia repeated, almost nodding, her blank expression warming incrementally as her mind responded to the words.

And finally, Faust turned to the last sibling, a mare in shades of black and grey, with cold blue eyes. “And thou… thou art Galatea.”

“I am Galatea,” the mare repeated.

“Thou art the bastion of rationality,” Faust told her.

“I am the bastion of rationality,” the mare repeated, almost primly.

“Where chaos rules, thou shalt preach order,” Faust told her. “Where the plan goes astray, it is thine place to correct it.”

“Where chaos rules, I shall preach order,” Galatea repeated, her expression almost seeming to harden as she spoke. “Where the plan goes astray, it is mine place to correct it.”

Faust nodded slowly. “Good. Now all of you will sleep for a time – and when you awaken, you will proceed as you have been directed.”

And like that, each mare settled themselves down to sleep. A moment later, there was a glimmer of light, and each mare was reduced to the size of an infant foal. Faust smiled at them, wishing for a brief moment that she didn't have to abandon them to a cruel world. But it was part of the task that awaited them.

“Good night, children,” she whispered softly. “When thou awaken, the world will await thee, and thou, in thy turn, shalt make it better. Rest well.”

And with that, she turned aside and trotted slowly out of the cavern, leaving her ‘children’ alone and asleep.

Outside the cavern, Faust took a moment to take in the sight of the mountains all around them. The snow-topped peaks seemed colder these days – and that was not merely her imagination. Dark days were upon this land: a remnant of old evils wrought to fight older evils, the sins of the past casting their shadow upon the now as they always would and always had.

I have wrought my works barely in time, she thought to herself. And even now, it maybe too late.

She sighed. Faith was an easy thing to say one had – but to maintain that faith, to hold the candle of hope up against the darkness? Some days, that seemed almost impossible.

Which is why it must be done.

Her teacher was waiting for her, as cloaked an enigmatic as ever, and it was not alone. A young Reindeer, maybe in his mid-twenties, stood at the entrance of the cavern as well, a deep frown upon his face. He wore a fur-lined red cloak across his strong body, and a single stylised pickaxe was hooked onto a harness, a weapon of reindeer design that looked somehow ill-fitted on this being.

And yet, Faust smiled.

“Dearest Sint Erklass,” she said quietly. “So, thou hast come to say goodbye.”

Canterlot Palace, May 4th, Year 3 Era Harmonia.

Now

This new Alicorn – this Galatea – stood opposite Celestia, a cold, emotionless expression on her face. She stepped forward.

“Well?” she said quietly. “I’m sure you have questions. Time is short, Celestia: ask now, so that we can get on with the task that has been laid before us.”

“We… are sisters,” Celestia said slowly.

“That is the case, yes,” Galatea agreed, nodding. “You do not remember me, but that is only to be expected. Mine place was to stand apart. To watch, and ensure you did not stray from your duly appointed place.”

“But I don't understand,” Celestia said, frowning. “How… how can you be our sister? Why weren't you raised alongside us?”

“I was already grown when you were revealed to ponykind,” Galatea said with a hint of a smile. “Released from stasis early, to observe and to catalogue.”

Celestia shook her head. “No. I don’t believe you.”

“Do you doubt the evidence of your senses?” Galatea asked, tilting her head, “I am an Alicorn, Celestia. You would have felt an ascension, as we were meant to.”

“Still, how do I know that this is not some trick?” Celestia asked, scowling at her. “You cannot expect me to believe you without proof!”

“Does it feel like a trick, sister?” Galatea asked.

“Do not call me that!” Celestia snapped. “We are not sisters.”

“But we are,” Galatea retorted. “You and I, and Luna as well, were created together, made from the same ancient magicks, each custom-designed to fulfill a specific role.”

“There is more to the word ‘sister’ than blood,” Celestia growled. “You have stood apart, you say. Well, Luna and I were together: we shared hardships and joys together, pain and happiness, sorrow and despair. I could accept that you and I are blood, or that we were ‘created’ together as you put it… but you are a long way from being my sister.”

There was a pause as this declaration hung on the air.

“You are… angry,” Galatea said slowly, almost contemplatively.

“You’re damn right,” Celestia replied, narrowing her eyes at Galatea. “What role could you have possibly held that kept you from us, if you were our sister?”

Galatea lowered her head slowly. “It… was not mine place.”

“Not your place?” Celestia repeated incredulously.

“We were not created without a plan in mind, Celestia,” Galatea said, raising her head again. “It was your place to make a positive impact on the world, to guide, to serve, or indeed, to rule as you thought necessary.”

“They asked us,” Celestia said slowly, frowning at her. “Asked us to lead them, to mediate the disputes and, eventually, hold the dual thrones.”

“Yes,” Galatea nodded, and she gave a small, patient smile. “I know. I watched your coronation, actually. Lovely confetti.” Celestia blinked. “But that was your place, not mine.” Her smile faded. “It was mine role to act as a safeguard, if you failed.”

“Failed.” Celestia felt the word’s implications hanging in the air. “You mean…”

“If you and Luna strayed too far from your appointed roles, I would correct you,” Galatea said stiffly.

“But…” Celestia said, shaking her head again, “when Luna… how could you…”

Galatea sighed. “What happened to her… was within the tolerances of mine role as watcher. Only if you, too, had fallen prey to darker impulses, would it have been my place to step forward, to intervene. As it was, you did my intervening for me.”

“And so she was banished, while you watched,” Celestia said, a hint of bitterness in her tone. “And you claim to be our sister.”

“As do you, yet you are the one who banished her,” Galatea pointed out. She raised a hoof at Celestia’s enraged expression. “I do not resent the deed – indeed, it was well done. And so often it has been you who has stood against the darkness.”

“Too many times, and often with too little help,” Celestia said. “And you…”

“I watched you, observed you,” Galatea said. “That was mine role, and I have kept to it diligently.”

“So many times, the world has been imperilled,” Celestia said, her tone growing harsher. “And never before have you stepped forward to reveal yourself. So why now?”

Galatea sighed. “Because now… now, it is not merely one world that is threatened.”

Adlaborn. Another world, another time…

A lonely figure stood upon a mountain, overlooking a burning forest. Her elegant legs were cold, pale grey, and a black tail could be seen poking from beneath the long grey cloak she wore. Had one seen beneath her hood, they might have seen the long, slender horn that graced her head, the ice-blue eyes that took in every detail and judged it according to a design only she now remembered.

Adlaborn, the home of the Reindeer, was burning. The bodies of an entire kindred lay slain. Rick, cot and tree, all burning, all laid waste, without mercy, without hesitation. Even the Guardian of Joy himself, Sint Erklass, was dead. War had descended upon Equus, instigated by the Guardian of the Sun. She whose role was supposedly one of peace…

This was not the plan, the figure thought. If her face could have been seen, the only emotion it displayed would have been a slight frown of consternation. This was not the way things were intended.

There had been deviations. Of course there had. The plan had only been vague, and her knowledge of it – yes, even her understanding of what she knew – was bound to be imperfect. That had always been understood: things of flesh and blood did not have the necessary impartiality, though she had always tried her best to keep it.

And yet, even with her inevitably flawed sense of the plan, at no time was this… was any of this… part of what she had come to understand.

Something has changed, Galatea surmised. Something more than can be explained as slight deviation.

Her eyes narrowed in a mixture of disgust and rage.

The plan is compromised.

She sniffed, her decision made the instant those four words had crystallised in her head. Hers was the role of correction, and much needed correcting. Harmony had been replaced with disorder, peace with war, and loving guidance with brutal tyranny. The plan was astray.

And so, I must correct it.

“I have contacted my alternate self,” Galatea said. “Or rather – she has contacted me.”

“To what end?”

“In another Equestria, another world, something has gone dreadfully wrong.” Galatea leant forward slightly. “To what end? To the end of repairing that damage.”

“Alexander Reiner has told me some of what’s happened,” Celestia said. “And Luna has seen his memories and corroborates much of what he has spoken of.”

“He didn’t tell you all of it,” Galatea said. “The harmony that you spent millennia constructing, the balance, the very soul of an Equestria worth protecting. All of it has been destroyed, perhaps never to recover. A great madness has taken hold of that Equestria’s Celestia – or a great evil.”

“That part I understood, in part.” Celestia scowled. “What else, though?”

Galatea smiled wanly. “That, I can only say as a guess, but one I believe very strongly to be true. Before I make any such guess, however, I must speak with Alexander Reiner.”

“Why?” Celestia asked with a frown.

“Because it was in sending him that my other self hoped to gain your attention,” Galatea explained. “She tried to find some way to correct the plan without aid, but even with the aid of accomplished magicians, she could not. Eventually, she came to believe that even more drastic measures were needed.”

“Drastic measures such as contacting another world?” Celestia asked, raising an eyebrow.

“She believed that your morality would prevent you from failing to act when faced with a great evil,” Galatea said, “and so she contacted me and arranged to have a representative sent to explain why your aid would be so needed.” She sighed, looking away, almost shamefaced. “Unfortunately, it would seem that her plans went slightly awry.”

“Awry?” Celestia repeated. “In what sense?”

Galatea looked back at her. “She is dead, Celestia. Your other self ended her. It was the last thing from our connection I felt before Alexander Reiner completed his crossing of the dimensional planes.”

Celestia’s eyes widened in horror. “Dead. I… actually… I killed you?”

Galatea held up a hoof. “Be wary of comparing yourself to her, sister.”

“But she is me!” Celestia whispered harshly.

“An iteration of you,” Galatea corrected, “one of countless millions upon millions stretching out into the infinite nothingness. She is her own being, faced with her own choices.”

“And yet, not so removed from me as to be comfortable with dismissing our connection,” Celestia retorted grimly. “In her place, would I not make the same choices?”

“Perhaps,” Galatea conceded. “Or perhaps you are more removed than you realise.” Her expression softened. “Be assured, I do not believe that you are capable of the cruelties she is. And in truth, I am not sure she is truly the same mare she was.” She narrowed her eyes, a deep frown furrowing her brow. “There is… something. Something amiss, something more than mine other self knew or imparted, something I do not yet recognise.” She shook her head. “But that will wait. For now, I must speak with Alexander Reiner.”

“Then I will arrange it,” Celestia assured her.

“Good: the sooner the better,” Galatea said quietly. She looked out of the window, and her expression was pensive. “For the hour is later, much later, than she believed, and in this matter, time is our enemy.”

Canterlot Library, May 5th.

It had never been in Twilight Sparkle's nature to leave problems for others to solve, not when she herself could still attempt to do so – or, at least, contribute something to the problem at hoof. Even with Professor Trotsworth promising to help, she wanted to do research on her own.

Nonetheless, despite her enthusiasm for researching solutions to new problems (even big, terrifying, potentially world-shattering ones… okay, that line of thinking didn’t help), there was a question of just where she should begin. There was very little that she knew about war, and very little she knew about even the most radical theories of inter-dimensional travel (her own experience with space-time bending being limited to her brief excursion into the realm of time-travel).

In effect, she was having to start from scratch.

“Wasn’t there a pony who knew loads about this sort of stuff?” Rainbow Dash said, idly messing with a page of a book called Divergent Dimensions for Dummies. “Why don’t we just ask him, instead of trawling through all of this horse sh-”

“Rainbow!” Rarity snapped. “Mind your language!”

“Yeah, Dashie,” Pinkie added, frowning at her from the pile of books she was sorting through. “We’re a family show, even if this isn’t a family-friendly story.”

“What?” Rainbow asked.

“What?” Pinkie repeated.

Rainbow shook her head. “All I’m saying is, if there’s somepony who’s the expert, why not ask him?”

“You mean Doctor Whooves, right?” Pinkie asked cheerfully, her nose now buried in an upside-down copy of Interdimensional Magicks And Mayhems.

Twilight frowned. “Shouldn’t you be reading that the right way up?”

“Makes more sense this way,” Pinkie replied offhandedly. “Some of these equations actually start balancing out. And they look like duckies too.”

To prove her point she turned the book to show Twilight. Sure enough, one set of equations did indeed, loosely, resemble a duck.

“I know the stallion you mean,” Rarity said with a smile. “His name’s Time Turner, isn’t it? He comes in every so often to purchase a new tie or bow-tie… though Celestia only knows why, since he’s constantly picking ones that look exactly the same.”

“His name’s Doctor Whooves,” Pinkie insisted, still reading the book. “And he’s got all sorts of sciencey gizmos in his workshop. He always tinkers with them when you throw him parties instead of, y’know, partying. I ended up having to stop doing traditional parties for him.”

“So what do you do instead?” Twilight asked, smiling softly.

“Mostly just invite scientists from around Equestria,” Pinkie shrugged. “He likes proving them wrong about whatever they’re into.”

Twilight chuckled, but then the mirth died on her lips and she sighed.

“Ever get the feeling,” Applejack asked quietly after a moment, “that you wanna do something but don’t know what? ‘Cause that’s what I’m feeling.”

“What can we do?” Rainbow asked after a moment, scowling and standing up. “I feel like we’re all just sitting around doing nothing.”

“Anything we can,” Twilight said quietly.

“Which is what?” Rarity asked, frowning. “Join the Guard? Fight in whatever war this Alexander Reiner’s species is fighting?”

“I don’t know about anypony else,” Applejack said grimly, “But I ain’t exactly chomping at the bit to go kill other ponies, no matter how bad they are. Reckon it ain’t in me.”

“Me neither,” Fluttershy said quietly. “I don’t want to have to hurt anypony.”

“We might not get a choice,” Rainbow said.

“We don’t have to kill anypony,” Twilight said, holding up a hoof. “I said we’ll do anything we can.” She looked at Rainbow. “We’re not ‘doing nothing’. We’re waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” Rainbow said derisively.

“Waiting for the Princesses to tell us where they need us most,” Twilight replied. “We’re not soldiers, girls. We’re the bearers of the Elements of Harmony. Maybe we’ll need to use those. Or maybe we’ll need to research something.” Her expression was determined. “We’re not soldiers: the Princesses have loads of Guardsponies already, probably better at fighting, or better prepared, than we could ever be. But whatever it is we’re needed to do, we’ll be ready to do it.”

The others nodded, but Twilight could tell they still had their doubts.

Who can blame them? Twilight thought, turning her attention back to her book. The human, this stuff about a war, all of this… it’s so beyond anything I could ever imagined.

As she flipped open another book, she had to wonder. Were she and her friends really up to this?

Ponyville Hospital.

As Lyra took another sip of her drink and grimaced at the foul taste (seriously, how could whoever made food at the hospital have managed to ruin water?), she had to wonder.

Was she really up to this? Really up to helping a human, keeping watch over him?

“You look deep in thought,” Alex said quietly from next to her. “Something troubling you?”

Lyra raised an eyebrow. “How did you know?”

“Lyra,” Alex said patiently, “I knew the other you for years. I learned to read your face like an ABC book.”

She chuckled at that. “Yeah, I suppose you would have.” She sighed. “I just… I don’t know, Alex. Everything that’s supposed to be happening, everything that might happen…”

“It’s all overwhelming,” Alex guessed. “Right?”

Lyra nodded slowly. “Right.”

Alex smiled at her, though it was punctuated by a cough – and Lyra found herself worrying about him all over again. He had been getting even weaker, and even Nurse Sutra Cross hadn’t managed to find anything to help him.

“Well,” Alex said, bringing her attention back to the here and now, “try to take it all piecemeal. Y’know, focus on one bit at a time, deal with that, and then focus on a different bit.”

“Does that work for you?” Lyra asked.

Alex chuckled. “It worked for you. You taught me how to do that in the early days, when being the liaison between the PHL and the UN was overwhelming me.”

“The what and the what?” Lyra asked.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” Alex said, and Lyra managed to keep herself from wincing at his swearing. “Forgot I hadn’t really told you about them. Uh, the PHL is Ponies for Human Life: sort of a combination political and military group.” He coughed again, then smiled apologetically. “The latter is my fault, sorta.”

“Sorta? Wait, what do you mean, your ‘fault’?” Lyra asked, frowning. “So… the PHL is a pony organisation?”

“That’s right,” Alex said. “Started by – well, you. Designed to give ponies wanting to represent peace between humans and ponies, and the anti-conversion ponies, a voice.” He scowled. “Then, later, when it got… well, when the violence started, ponies couldn’t really join national armies, and the HLF wasn’t generally taking them – Romero excepted – so a lot of them needed a place to go, to learn to help in the war effort.”

“And the PHL helped ponies fight?” Lyra asked, feeling a wave of… not distaste, but something not too dissimilar, rising up inside her.

“It had two purposes,” Alex clarified. “Your half of it was to give ponies a voice on the international stage: your business… her business… was in keeping dialogue open, letting everyone who’d listen know that the ponies in the PHL, at least, were on our side.” His expression soured. “My part, for what it was, began as a liaison from my military. Then you – she – asked me to train ponies for war.” He sighed. “I taught them how to use the shit we built for them. Eventually, y-she got us the political clout to make stuff that… well, wasn’t shit.”

Lyra nodded, though part of her had stopped listening a while back. “You miss her, don’t you.”

Alex’s eyes seemed to moisten briefly. “Every day.” He sighed. “She… she was inspirational, in a lot of ways. Not quite the messiah some people and ponies paint her as -”

“Wait, what?”

“- but still one of the best ponies I could have ever had the privilege of knowing,” Alex finished. He chuckled. “Uh, best not to think about the ‘messiah’ thing. It’s… messy and complicated.”

“Yeah,” Lyra said, trying to keep her eyebrows from disappearing into the stratosphere. “I’ll just bet.”

There was a knock at the door, and Alex sighed.

“Come in,” he said.

The door to his hospital room opened, and a tall figure entered, shrouded in a battered cloak.

“Alexander Reiner,” the figure – a mare – said quietly. “I must speak with you.”

Alex frowned. “Who are you?”

“Forgive me,” the mare said, closing the door behind her. Lyra tensed, feeling suddenly unsure. “We must not be disturbed before I am finished.”

There was a glow of magic, and the mare’s hood was thrown back, the cloak slipping from her shoulders, revealing a slender horn and beautiful wings tucked against a grey body. Lyra’s eyes widened in shock.

“An Alicorn…” she whispered.

The new Alicorn looked between Alex and Lyra, frowning slightly at the little Unicorn mare and her awestruck expression, before returning her attention to Alex.

“My name is Galatea,” she said quietly. “I am here to speak with you.”

Alex didn’t say anything for a long moment, and then he pursed his lips. “I was under the impression that Princess Luna was the only other Alicorn, besides Celestia. That there weren’t any others.”

This new mare – this Galatea – chuckled. “You are repeating yourself, Alexander Reiner, though you know it not. Nonetheless, you would not have been far from the mark, though in this world Cadance completed her ascendence.”

“Did she?” Alex said dryly. “Good to know.”

“I have been hidden from the knowledge of ponies,” Galatea continued. “Mine task was to observe, not to interfere.”

“Well, you’re doing more than observing now,” Alex said cautiously. “Care to tell me why you’re here?”

Galatea’s smile widened.

“Tell me,” she said slowly. “You do not recall quite the circumstances that led to your being here, do you?”

Alex shuffled slightly. “No. I don't. There was… there was a battle…”

“A battle you do not remember,” Galatea finished. “I know.”

“How do you know?!” Alex snapped.

“Because it was mine doing,” Galatea said with a soft smile. “I am the reason you are here.”

Ah, the most radical divergence from the original SPECTRUM so far. By this point in the “real” story, I had effectively stepped back without - yet - making that desire known to everyone else. The material in this chapter is largely new, and represents my original intention with Galatea’s characterisation. I dare say the SPECTRUM crew have done an excellent job of reflecting the character I created.

“You still don’t know, do you? Who you are. Why you’re here.”
Paxton Fettel, First Encounter Assault Recon.

There was a heavy silence after this strange new Alicorn’s – Galatea’s – pronouncement. Lyra looked between this unknown mare and Alex with wide eyes, uncertain what to say – or if there even was anything else to say. Galatea herself prompted a host of questions to come to Lyra’s mind, but most of them died before her vocal cords so much as twitched, so forbidding was her expression.

“You… you sent me here?” Alex finally said after a moment.

“That’s correct,” Galatea said quietly. “Or, to be more accurate, my counterpart from the Equus you are more familiar with sent you here, with my cooperation.”

Lyra frowned, still dumbstruck but now beginning to piece together threads as they showed themselves. An Alicorn would certainly be one of the few creatures capable of the magic required to send a creature from one world to another, but…

… well, this was all entirely different strands of ‘new’. Lyra had a sneaking suspicion that she’d be lost before too long if things became more complex.

“What did you… I mean,” Alex began after another pause, shaking his head. “What happened? Why did you… did your other self… send me here?”

“Because mine other self wanted to find some way to end the Solar Empire,” Galatea replied quietly. “It was in some ways as abhorrent to her as it has been to you.”

Alex snorted. “Respectfully, ma’am, I find that difficult to believe.”

Galatea’s nostrils flared and her eyes narrowed, and for a moment Lyra was suddenly afraid that Alex had provoked her to anger.

“Believe it, Alexander Reiner,” she said, her voice taking on a cold edge. “Mine entire life has been spent keeping the order that mine mother-creator tasked me with watching over. This has been the work of thousands of years. And mine other self, in that world, has failed that task. This is unacceptable.”

There was a brief pause as Galatea took a breath to calm herself. Alex and Lyra exchanged a look.

“I’m… sorry,” he said slowly. “So… so, your other self met with me.”

“That is so,” Galatea said, more calmly. “She had those with whom she had worked approach your people. You met with her. She arranged for you to come here, but the incident went… awry.” She smiled sadly. “Most of this, you do not remember, but I can share some details with you.”

Alex looked at Lyra, who shrugged.

“I’ve never even heard of this Alicorn,” she said quietly.

Galatea chuckled. “Nopony has heard of me, Lyra Heartstrings. I would be somewhat… concerned, if they had.”

“But…” Lyra said, frowning. “Your voice… it’s familiar.”

“‘Familiar’?” Galatea repeated, scoffing at her. “You cannot have heard my voice before, little pony, for I have not spoken to one of our kind in millennia. You might be the first non-Alicorn I have ever so much as uttered a syllable towards.”

“But I have heard your voice before,” Lyra repeated insistently. “In Alex’s mind… we heard voices, voices from his past. I could have sworn I heard your voice in there, saying something about ‘fearing failure’.”

Galatea nodded slowly, her derision turning to a solemn frown. “Ah, yes. Luna’s delve into Reiner’s mind: I am aware that it took place.” She sighed. “You may have heard some of mine other self’s last words, little pony.”

Lyra’s eyes widened. “She’s… she’s dead?”

“Yes,” Galatea said bluntly. “Slain by Queen Celestia.”

Alex leant forward. “Alright, then, ma’am. Say I believed you. What, exactly, happened? How did I get here?”

“It would be easier,” Galatea replied slowly, “to show you – if you are willing.”

Alex frowned. “A mind delve.”

“Indeed.”

Alex’s response was instantaneous. “Only if Lyra comes too.”

Galatea raised an eyebrow, looking at Lyra with a scrutinising eye. Lyra flinched slightly – where Celestia was a calming, reassuring presence, this Alicorn was nothing short of unnerving.

“An odd request, given that you do not know her as you knew her counterpart,” Galatea said after a moment, “but I see no reason to disallow it.” Her horn began glowing. “If you would prepare yourselves.”

Alex took a breath, and Lyra closed her eyes.

And then she opened them to a dark, unassuming room. A single human figure sat behind a desk, hunched over paperwork.

“Alex?” Lyra said at once. “Is that you?”

“It is,” a voice said from behind her, and Lyra jumped as she saw Alex – clad once more in the clothes he had arrived in, save that they were undamaged – standing behind her. He was frowning at the image of the slouched human. “That was me in my office, before I came here. It’s one of the last things I can clearly remember.”

From out of the shadows, Galatea stepped, her dark coat and mane blending well with the darkness. She smiled.

“This is where the tale of our meeting begins, Alexander Reiner: a memory that was locked in your mind,” she said quietly. “Come, observe with me.”

Exchanging looks of bemusement, Lyra and Alex moved over to where she was standing just as there was a knock at the door to the office. The image of Alex looked up: Lyra was surprised at how healthy he looked. The Alex she knew was battered and bruised, even in this mindscape, with stubble and tired eyes. This Alex, by contrast, looked… determined. His face was clean shaven and his eyes bright and energised.

“Yes?” he said. “Who’s there?”

The door opened, and a man with a long robe over some sort of tabard and shirt entered. He had darker skin than Alex, with narrower eyes and black hair pulled up into a topknot. His face was covered by a scruffy black beard with flecks of grey in it.

“Colonel,” the man said, inclining his head. His voice was deep and authoritative. “It is good to see you again.”

The image of Alex stood up. “Hiro. Damn, but it’s been a while.” He held out a hand, and the other human clasped it firmly. “What’re you doing back? Finally coming off your leave?”

“Nothing so simple,” the other human – Hiro – said quietly. “I am here to deliver a request.”

“A request?” the image of Alex repeated. “What sort of request?”

Hiro lowered his head. “You know that I and a few others – the ones the UN and much of PHL command call ‘Mystics’ – have been searching the world for the secrets beyond the skin of reality.”

The image of Alex chuckled. “That’s, uh, one way to put it. I know that some of you have been seen doing all sorts of crazy crap.”

“Quite,” Hiro said, snorting. “Well, we have made an ally during our journeys.”

The image Alex frowned. “An ally. What kind of ally?”

“One who knows much of what has happened in Equestria,” Hiro said quietly. “She’s asked to speak with you.”

“With me?” the memory of Alex repeated. “Why me?”

“Because she believes you are the only one who will be able to help her,” Hiro replied with a smile. “You’re the military head of the PHL, and its ‘face’. If nothing else, what you say has clout, and our ally knows this.” His smile faded, his expression becoming more serious. “And I believe what she has to say will be important.”

Next to Lyra, Alex frowned, stroking his stubble absently. The memory of Alex sighed, before nodding.

“If you think so, Hiro,” he said quietly. “You understand, you’ll have to submit to the usual checks before I can act on this.”

“I will happily,” Hiro replied. “So long as you meet with her in Boston.”

“Let’s get to it, then,” Alex said, motioning to the door, “and then I’ll get my team together. Lord knows Casey’s been bugging me for weeks that he’s bored with garrison duty.”

As the two men walked out, the memory around them dissolved into nothingness. Galatea looked at Alex with a neutral expression.

“Are you remembering, now?” she asked.

“Slowly,” Alex said quietly, “and this fits. Hiro’s one of the few men I’d still trust with my life.”

“You mentioned him before,” Lyra said quietly. “Who is he?”

“He was one of the PHL’s best,” Alex replied, rubbing the back of his neck and wincing. “One of the CQC specialists we ended up bringing in when it got too obvious that our guys weren’t trained or equipped for CQC against Guards with spears and swords wearing plate armour. But then he got involved with the Mystics…”

He trailed off, his expression becoming thoughtful, brow furrowing in contemplation.

“Who are the Mystics?” Lyra asked.

Alex looked at her, and gave a small chuckle. “Well, that’s… tricky. Short answer is, they’re people who believe in Earth’s own magic, and have travelled the world – or, y’know, what’s left of it – to find that magic and use it.” His expression sobered. “Used to think they were all cranks – John Constantine, Quinn Raine, Jim whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is…” He looked at where the memory of Hiro had been standing. “But when Hiro joined them, and when they started talking to you – sorry, to my Lyra – well, let’s just say, if Hiro Mifune takes something seriously, you take it seriously.”

Lyra nodded slowly. She felt like she was getting an incomplete picture, but it was a picture nonetheless, and it was… strange. Galatea, meanwhile, was nodding.

“Do you wish to see what happened?” she asked softly.

“I take it the other you was the ally he was talking about?” Alex asked rhetorically, looking at her. “I mean, that seems pretty obvious.”

“Indeed,” Galatea said with a nod.

“‘Kay,” Alex said. “Then I’m not sure why we need the theatrics.”

Galatea gave a cold smile. “These theatrics, as you call them, are more evocative. And they prove, without a shadow of a doubt, that I am telling you the truth. For what is to come, we must have no doubts, no second guessing.”

“Alright,” Alex said quietly. “So: what?”

In response, Galatea’s horn glowed, and suddenly the three of them were standing in what looked like a ruined church, broken arches above them and holes in the roof, exposing a cloudy sky. The image of a mare in a dark, ragged cloak was standing, waiting, as the memory of Alex entered the church, a few other humans in similar gear to him – if slightly more comprehensively armoured, all but one wearing full-face helmets – walking with him, many of them carrying what looked like a Griffon muskets, save for being bulkier and more complex-looking. Another human, this one in a brown robe, was with them as well.

“You?” the real Alex asked Galatea.

She nodded, her eyes not leaving the scene in front of them. The memory of Alex walked ahead of the other humans, the robed one pointing at the mare.

“Excuse me?” the memory said. “Are you the mare I’m supposed to be meeting?”

“Colonel Alexander Reiner,” the mare said, turning to look at him. With a swift movement, she drew her hood down, revealing a face nearly identical to Galatea’s, save for lines under her eyes and a single thin scar on her cheek. “Finally.”

“Sorry I’m late,” memory-Alex said, smirking. “We, uh, walked most of the way after the Doc dropped us off in Boston, and this is still a war zone.”

“I am aware of your difficulties,” Galatea’s counterpart said. Her tone, if it were possible, was even colder and more clipped than the Galatea who stood by Lyra. “Have your men and the Mystic leave.”

The Mystic bowed and left at once. Memory-Alex turned to the rest of the humans.

“Casey, wait outside,” he said to one of them, a red headed male with his helmet clipped to his belt instead of on his head. “Keep an eye out for hostile forces – we’re still not sure just how safe we are in this location.”

“Gotcha, boss,” the other human replied in a strong brogue quite unlike Alex’s accent. He winked. “We’ll holler at the first sign o’ trouble.

He walked out of the church, the other humans following, leaving memory-Galatea and memory-Alex alone.

“Alexander Reiner,” the mare said again. “The leader of the PHL, and heir to the work of Lyra Heartstrings.”

Memory-Alex frowned. “You know about Lyra?”

“We spoke, once,” memory-Galatea said shortly. “And her work was important. Maybe more so than even I know. But that is not why you are here.”

“Why am I here, then, Ms…?” memory-Alex asked.

The memory of Galatea threw off her cloak in a single motion, spreading her wings wide. Memory-Alex stepped back, eyes wide in shock.

“You’re an Alicorn!” he said, hand reaching for his pistol.

“I am here to help you, human,” memory-Galatea said sharply. “Stay your hand!”

Memory-Alex moved his hand from his gun and seemed to calm a fraction, though he still looked wary.

“We were under the impression that Princess Luna was the only other Alicorn, apart from the Tyrant,” he said quietly. “And that there were no others.”

“And you would have been within your rights to have that impression,” memory-Galatea replied simply. “Mine work has been to observe the others, not to interact. Mine sisters never knew of me… thought I fear mine secrecy is compromised, now.”

“Who are you, then?” memory-Alex asked.

“Mine name is Galatea,” memory-Galatea said impatiently. “And I have little time, so listen well. You do not have the manpower, the expertise or the requisite strength to defeat your enemy.” Before memory-Alex could object, she held up a hoof. “Do not posture to me, Alexander Reiner. You know as well as I that I have spoken only the truth.”

Memory-Alex sighed. “Alright. So?”

“So, I have a solution,” memory-Galatea replied. “I have, amongst my many talents, the power – however much a strain it may prove – to connect to other incarnations of myself, alternates and counterparts from what you would term parallel realities.”

Memory-Alex frowned. “From other Solar Empires?”

Memory-Galatea snorted. “From Equestrias that never became the abomination calling itself the Solar Empire. Unsullied, free.”

Memory-Alex paused. “That’s… I’d say that’s ridiculous, but – well, we’ve had to redefine what we call ridiculous over the last few years.”

“Of that, I have no doubt,” memory-Galatea said with a small, mirthless smirk. “It is with a counterpart of mine in one of these Unsullied Equestrias that I have communed. She and I, together, have the power to bring you to her world.”

“Where… what?” memory-Alex asked. “Will she be able to help?”

“Not alone,” memory-Galatea said, “but she will be able to aid you in securing the aid of that world’s diarchs. Celestia of old…” Here, memory-Galatea’s expression became wistful. “Celestia of old was merciful, kind, just, and strong-willed. Whatever madness has possessed the Celestia who stands at the head of the Solar Empire, her rightful self would oppose it as the perversion of Harmony that it is.”

Memory-Alex scowled. “Trusting Celestia? That’s… gonna be hard to swallow, for anyone. I’d have to run it by command.”

Memory-Galatea scowled. “We are short of time, Alexander Reiner. Discussing the correct course in a committee is a luxury you do not have.”

“But it’s how we do things, ma’am,” memory-Alex retorted. “I might be head of the PHL, but I’m not the unilateral boss of everyone in the damn army. I’ve got to answer to my people, to my superiors…”

Memory-Galatea tutted, but then nodded. “Very well, Alexander Reiner, if that is what you must do, then –”

She paused, and then her eyes widened.

“... no.”

“What?” memory-Alex asked, frowning.

Before memory-Galatea could answer, the human from before – Casey? – ran into the building, panting slightly.

“Colonel!” he yelled, sounding almost panicked. “We have heavy incoming!”

“Shit!” memory-Alex swore. “How bad?”

“Bad, sir,” Casey replied. “They must have swept right past Checkpoint Zeta.”

Memory-Alex ran a hand through his hair. “Escape routes?”

Casey shook his head. “We’re cut off, sir.”

“It is worse than you realise,” memory-Galatea said hollowly. Casey looked at her, his eyes widening as he took in the fact that he was looking at an Alicorn. “She is coming. She must have sensed that I am here.”

There was an immediate reaction from both the memory Alex and the real one. The real Alex clenched his fist, scowling, while the memory Alex looked shocked and – Lyra felt a chill run down her spine – afraid.

“The Tyrant,” memory-Alex whispered.

“Yes,” memory-Galatea said quietly. “There is no escape for us here. She will have even blocked teleportation – I am as trapped as you.”

Memory-Alex ran a hand through his hair again, looking desperate for a moment, before letting out a sigh.

“Send me,” he said quietly.

“Pardon?” memory-Galatea asked, frowning.

“Send me to this other Equestria,” memory-Alex said. “If it’s true, if they can help us, then fine. I’ll go. I’ll take the chance.” He gave a wan smile. “It’s gotta be better than dying here.”

Memory-Galatea nodded slowly. “Indeed… very well, then. I will commune with mine other self.” There was a pause. “I will need time.”

Casey nodded. “You’ll have that time, ma’am.”

“Casey,” memory-Alex began, but the other human held up a hand to forestall it.

“If she can get you out of here… shit, boss, I don’t understand any of it, but it sounds better than carking it here,” he said, his tone surprisingly light. “Squad’ll buy you some time, keep the bastards off your arse, and let the lady do… whatever it is she’s gonna do.”

“Casey,” memory-Alex said again, and Lyra saw her Alex mouth the word as well, his expression unreadable.

“Colonel, don’t sweat it,” Casey said. “We’ve got your back. See you on the flip side.”

Without another word, he jogged back out the door, jamming his helmet on as he did so. Memory-Alex sighed, and waited as memory-Galatea’s horn began glowing.

A few moments passed, and the sound of the strange muskets going off began to come from outside, along with other sounds that Lyra couldn’t pinpoint. Alex winced next to Lyra.

“Shit,” he swore quietly. “Goddammit Casey.”

“Another friend?” Lyra asked quietly.

“A good guy,” Alex replied, his expression full of guilt and remorse. “And I got him killed.”

As the portal took shape, the sounds of the strange musket-esque weapons got closer. Memory-Alex seemed to tense, drawing his own weapon – seemingly a smaller version of those his colleagues had carried. A moment passed, and then suddenly the door burst open and a group of Unicorn stallions in what looked like heavier Royal Guard armour burst into the church.

“You must keep them from interfering!” memory-Galatea yelled.

“Gotcha!” memory-Alex called back. He brought up his weapon and opened fire, and one of the stallions went down with a spray of blood from his head.

Lyra flinched at the display of violence. Next to her, the real Alex put a hand on her shoulder.

The next Guardspony fired a spell at memory-Alex, a bolt of energy flying towards him. He dodged, but it still grazed his arm and he yelled out in pain. Lyra saw Alex’s hand go reflexively to where the necrotic flesh was on his arm.

The Unicorn Guard then threw another spell, this one apparently more concussive, since it blasted a few of the pews apart. Memory-Alex rolled out of the way, but some of the splash had reached him. More spells flew his way, and he dodged behind a stone pillar. He popped out and fired again, felling another Unicorn.

“Go for the traitor!” one of the Unicorns yelled.

Two of the Guardsponies broke off, but before they could attack again, memory-Alex stepped out and threw what looked like a small metal ball at them. Memory-Galatea raised a shield around herself as she worked.

“Grenade!” another of the Unicorns yelled, and then there was a loud explosion, blasting masonry and woodwork apart. The smoke cleared partially, and Lyra could see memory-Alex lying against a pillar, grimacing in pain.

“Shit,” Alex swore from next to Lyra.

From out of the smoke emerged one last Unicorn. Seeing memory-Alex, the Unicorn sent more spells his way, forcing him to dodge, until another spell hit him, sending him spinning through the air. Memory-Alex groaned, but managed to raise his pistol, only for another spell to blast it from his hand.

“You!” the Unicorn yelled. He was bleeding from one of his ears, and his eyes were wide and filled with rage. “You’re the leader – the one that gives all the monkeys their false belief! You’re an idolator!”

Lyra, watching, could only frown at the odd word.

“Soon, her majesty will be done with your friends,” the Unicorn continued, “and then it’s your -”

A blast of cold blue magic slammed into the Unicorn, and a moment later empty armour clattered to the floor, pale blue mist dissipating around it. Memory-Alex looked up, to see memory-Galatea staring in disgust at the empty armour.

“Newfoal,” she said with a grimace. “Disgusting abomination of nature. Another crime, another aberrance. One we must hope we can set right.”

Behind her, her portal was quite finished: a shimmering blue-white vortex, standing like a vertical puddle of water. Memory-Alex, wincing, stood up, looking at it with wide, astonished eyes.

“Is it ready?” he asked quietly.

“It should be,” memory-Galatea replied. “It will take you to a new, Unsullied Equestria, and there – the spirits be willing – you will find help.”

Memory-Alex nodded slowly, and then suddenly he frowned. “But… what about you?”

“What about me?” memory-Galatea asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You said it yourself,” memory-Alex reminded her. “You can’t escape. If the Tyrant really is here, then like you said, she’ll have blocked any magical way out.” He paused. “Can you… can you beat her? Or get past her?”

“I do not know,” memory-Galatea replied, almost indifferently. “I suspect not. She obliterated the creature Discord, the ancient evil of Kontagion. These things were beyond my strength to accomplish, and yet she did them.” She took a breath, before nodding. “Yes, I believe this is the moment where I meet my destiny.”

Memory-Alex shook his head. “No, that’s… you can’t die. You can still… I dunno…”

“You proceed from a false assumption, Alexander Reiner,” memory-Galatea said more gently. “I do not fear death. I fear failure. I fear the world that awaits if you fail. That is why I will make sure you do not. This is how I will restore the order I was created to protect.” She paused. “One Galatea… or another.”

At this, the memory of Galatea looked towards where the real Galatea was watching, almost as if looking right at her. Galatea shifted her stance slightly, inclining her head. Lyra looked up at her, and frowned: could these two, the memory and the one remembering, be communicating? Was that even possible?

“Now go,” memory-Galatea said, motioning to the portal. “Go now.”

Memory-Alex threw her one last look, and then threw himself into the portal. There was a blinding flash of light, and then the portal became still once more.

“She sacrificed herself to save me,” Alex said from next to Lyra. “I… could she have escaped?”

“No,” Galatea told him, speaking quietly. “She did not.”

The memory of Galatea watched the portal for a moment, before turning her attention to the church’s door. The sounds from outside had stopped, and she sighed.

“Do you see me, Galatea?” she asked. “I do this so that the plan will be returned to its rightful way. Do you understand what you have to do, the part you have to play, now? The sacrifices you must make?”

“Where chaos rules, I shall preach order,” Galatea replied, intoning the words almost like a prayer, her voice soft. “Where the plan goes astray, it is mine place to correct it.”

“I meet my fate gladly, knowing you will continue what I have begun,” the memory of Galatea said quietly, and she smiled beatifically, her wings flaring out and her horn glowing. “Farewell, sister-self.”

As the door to the church burst open in a flare of blinding light, a figure of an Alicorn was visible in the doorway, silhouetted against a burning white light outside…

And then the memory ended, and Lyra and Alex were back in the hospital room. Alex let out a breath and leant back against his pillow, closing his eyes.

“Now you know,” Galatea said, her mane limp and her face matted with sweat: clearly the delve had taken some energy to maintain. “And now you understand why you were brought here.”

“You and your other self,” Alex replied quietly, his eyes still closed. “You always intended that I would get this Celestia’s help.”

“You have dawdled,” Galatea said with a snort. “Time was short to begin with, and now it is even shorter. We must act now, Alexander Reiner.”

Alex nodded. “I see.” He sighed. “I… don’t suppose you can reconnect this world with mine?”

Galatea smirked. “Alone, no. I do not have the power.”

“But…?” Lyra asked.

Galatea’s smirk became a grin. “But I will not be alone, Lyra Heartstrings. Mine sister has, without realising it, already recruited the perfect being to supply raw energy for our cause. Now I need only speak with him.”

A point for those reading this and any subsequent chapters: if you’re following the “Main” SPECTRUM, while I can’t say these chapters of mine will be entirely distinct from the “Main” story (I’ve left my work on the Jed R Cut free for the Crew to appropriate as they see fit), we passed the point I left the story proper two chapters ago, and now neither I nor they are beholden to the other to follow any ideas laid down. In layman’s terms, we’re both heading into increasingly uncharted waters, and our destinations may not be quite the same.

“I swear this oath by Apollo physician, by Aesculapius, by Health, and by all the gods and goddesses. In whatsoever place that I enter, I will enter to help the sick and heal the injured, and I will do no harm.”
The Emergency Medical Hologram, Star Trek: Voyager – “Darkling”.

Canterlot Palace Throne Room, May 5th, Year 3 Era Harmonia.

If anypony were to have asked her, Celestia would have said that she did not know how Luna would react to discovering that there was another Alicorn, much less a secret sister neither of them had ever heard of. However, she would have also said that she had a pretty good guess.

“WHAT?!”

Celestia winced. Luna’s command of the Royal Canterlot Voice™ had always been more impressive than hers. She vaguely recalled incidents in their youth when they had given grand speeches to armies, and it had ended up being mostly Luna doing the speaking. Not that Celestia minded: though nopony ever thought these days that she might prefer others doing the ‘speaking to groups’ part of her job, it was definitely the case.

Behind her, Galatea merely stood, taking in the yelling, her expression entirely devoid of emotion.

Luna’s eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open in shock. “You… you… you’re another… I… we…”

“Perhaps pausing for thought would help you concoct a complete sentence, sister,” Galatea said blandly. Celestia winced at the bluntness of the sentence, but Galatea’s tone had been so matter-of-fact that it seemed less like an insulting comment and more like a simple observation.

Luna’s expression morphed into a furious scowl. “Thou… thou imposter, thou fraud! How dare thou comest here, spewing thine lies!”

There was a short pause as these words hung in the air.

“I do not lie,” Galatea said after a moment, speaking surprisingly evenly in the face of Luna’s anger. “Mine role has never demanded subterfuge.”

“Clearly thou hast lied about thine existence!” Luna yelled. “If thou truly art our sister, which we doubt!”

Galatea sniffed. “If I were not truly your sister, you would know the truth. You are an Alicorn, Luna, and one whose place, power and purpose demands understanding the hearts and deepest thoughts of those around you. That is your privilege and burden, and always has been.”

Luna looked to Celestia, who was watching their exchange with a concerned expression.

“Dost thou believe her, Celestia?” she asked.

“I do,” Celestia replied at once, her tone soft but resolute. “It… does not feel wrong. Not in the way that I would envision a trick like this would.”

Galatea gave a small, triumphant smile, and Luna scowled.

“Just because we share blood, do not think that thou shalt be accepted so readily into the family,” she said scathingly. “Thou art a stranger to us, Galatea.”

“I am well aware of that,” Galatea replied without missing a beat. “Celestia already said something to that effect when we met.”

Celestia’s expression softened. “And I regret it, in part.”

Luna’s eyes widened. “Sister?”

“Later, Luna,” Celestia said quietly. “For now, I would ask that you go summon Discord. Apparently,” she continued, glancing at Galatea, “we will need his aid.”

Luna sighed. “Yet another thing we do not like the sound of, but we shall do as thou ask.” She scowled once more at Galatea. “Have a care, stranger. We shalt have our eyes on thee.”

Without another word she left the throne room, leaving Galatea and Celestia alone.

“She was definitely thrown for a loop,” Celestia said quietly. “She even -”

“Reverted to her ancient mode of speech, yes,” Galatea said. She gave a small, amused smile. “I have observed the both of you for millennia, Celestia. I know what her tells are. Honestly, I would have expected worse.”

Celestia snorted. “It seems somewhat unfair for you to know us so well when we know nothing about you.”

Galatea rolled her eyes. “There is nothing to know about me, sister. I have nothing to hide. No ambition, no secrets, no desires. All that I am, you know. Mine task, mine purpose, is all there is to me.”

Celestia’s expression softened once more. “Surely there is more. Your entire life cannot have been spent in observation…” She trailed off at Galatea’s wry expression. “Oh my. It… but… have you not had leisure time, or hobbies, or friends, or…”

“The only secret I have ever kept is that I exist,” Galatea said quietly. “And the first being I have ever spoken to at any great length is you. The only chance you could have ever heard of me is from Sint Erklass. He knew that I was meant to exist.”

“He did?” Celestia said quietly. “He never spoke of you to us, despite what you suggested.”

Galatea shrugged. “That was his choice. Perhaps, by the time you were revealed, he understood well enough that mine role required that you know not of me. Or perhaps he believed I had never awoken.” She shook her head. “But this is all ancient history. We must be concerned with the future, and the fight to come against your corrupted other.”

“Indeed,” Celestia said quietly, not really wanting to think of it, much as she knew she had to. She looked back at Galatea. “What is it, do you think?”

Galatea gave her a sidelong glance. “What is what?”

“The thing that you said was amiss with my other self,” Celestia clarified. “The thing that makes my other self so different from me.”

Galatea frowned thoughtfully. “Truthfully? There is no way for us to be sure at this juncture.”

“That is not a comforting answer,” Celestia said.

“It was not meant to comfort you,” Galatea retorted, her expression sympathetic. “It could be anything: some sort of psychosis, or possession by some spirit or demon or monster from beyond the veil. All I can say for certain is that, for her, it happened some time before this day for us, which reassured me that you are not similarly corrupted.”

Celestia blanched. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She swallowed. “How can you be so certain I am not…?”

Galatea smiled wryly. “It is mine task, to keep you on the path intended, broad as that path was.” She sniffed. “Poor watchmare I would be indeed, to let my charge slip into madness without noticing.”

“And yet,” Celestia said. She didn’t finish the thought, but Galatea’s expression hardened.

“And yet,” she said, sighing. “It concerns me greatly, I assure you.” She shook her head. “But the whithertoes and whyfores, as our people once said, will wait. We cannot question what your counterpart’s cause or motive is to the extent that we forget to stop her from continuing her evil.”

Celestia couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. “‘Whithertoes and whyfores’, indeed. I’ve not heard that in seven centuries, save for period pieces and pompous nobles.”

Galatea raised an eyebrow. “Would you prefer I emulated the youth of today and attempted to be – what was it – ‘hip and happening’?”

Galatea’s expression when saying this was so deadpan that Celestia couldn’t help but let out a real laugh.

“Oh, dear, no,” she said. “I don’t think I’d be able to stand it. There are some things even immortals are too old for.”

Galatea’s eyebrow stayed raised. “Am I amusing you, Celestia?”

“Yes, a little,” Celestia said, her laughs subsiding but a smile remaining. “If you are our sister…” She sighed. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

“You say that as though we will have time for social interaction,” Galatea said curtly. “Somehow, I do not think we will.”

“Oh, there will be time,” Celestia said, inclining her head. “Equestria is built upon the principles of the Elements of Harmony. The chief of them is magic, expressed best among us through friendship. You must know this, if you have observed us for all these long years as you claim.”

Galatea scoffed. “That philosophy is one of many that I have observed, yes. As it happens, I have also observed how often it is ill-applied or else entirely ignored among your subjects.”

“That may be so,” Celestia retorted, smiling coyly, “and yet still it is the principle by which we judge ourselves, our words, and our actions.” At Galatea’s unconvinced expression, she sighed. “Come now, sister, if you are indeed what you claim to be, then there is cause for joy yet.”

“Joy, indeed?” Galatea said, snorting. “I have brought discontent to your sister and ill-tidings to your people, and you call my coming a cause for joy. I have often thought you might be too kind-hearted for your own good: perhaps I was not wrong, after all.”

“You have brought yourself,” Celestia countered softly, her smile becoming all the brighter. “And it is in the spirit of that kindness that I will accept what you have told me… sister.” At that word, Galatea’s own expression softened. “If you are right, we may all march into deadly danger soon.”

“That much is true,” Galatea said stiffly. “It is likely, given what the corrupt Queen is capable of, that we are going to our doom, and nothing more.” Her expression became wistful. “The last battle of the children of Faust.”

“Well then,” Celestia said, smiling still, “I would like to at least have we three, yourself, Luna and I, sit together in friendship and the spirit of family. For surely, if you have been alone so long, such a joy is a thing to cherish?”

Galatea’s expression became unreadable. “It was mine role, and I regret it not.”

“I did not ask if you regretted it, sister,” Celestia rejoined. “And now you have revealed yourself, is your role so rigid and so cruel as to demand you remain aloof?”

“It…” Galatea began, and then she sighed.

“What?” Celestia asked.

“It did not fully account for this possibility of ever showing myself to you at all,” Galatea admitted quietly. “After all this time… I never thought I would need to reveal mine existence to you, or to anybeing.”

“Never?” Celestia asked, frowning in confusion. “Not once?”

Galatea shook her head. “Even when Luna became Nightmare Moon, I did not foresee the possibility that I would need to step out of the shadows.” She gave a wry smile. “You were quite capable of handling things without my help.”

Celestia chuckled. “Not so capable that meeting another sister wouldn’t have been welcome.”

“Still,” Galatea said quietly, “I never guessed that this might come to pass.”

Celestia laid a comforting wing on her sister’s shoulder. “We can never foresee all possibilities, Galatea. Even you, for all that you have observed, have not that power.”

Galatea nodded. “That is so. And it is good to be aware of mine limitations, for they are many.”

She scowled at that, and Celestia’s expression became concerned.

“What is it?” she asked quietly.

“Nothing, really,” Galatea said quietly. “Merely… I fear, when faced with your alternate, that I will not be strong enough. If she could destroy Kontagion, obliterate Discord…”

“We will not concern ourselves with that particular hypothetical, not right now,” Celestia said with a small smile, keeping her wing on Galatea’s shoulder. “There is much still to do.”

Galatea glanced at the wing on her shoulder, before meeting Celestia’s eyes, raising her eyebrow. Celestia grinned, and Galatea sighed.

“If you say so, sister,” she said quietly. “We must return to Ponyville, in the meantime.”

“Oh?” Celestia asked, frowning. “Why?”

“Because we have a war to plan,” Galatea said grimly. “And the human Reiner is the only one of us with true first-hand knowledge of what exactly we are going to face when we get there.”

“I see,” Celestia said, nodding. “And the sooner we start, the more prepared we shall be, is that your line of thinking?”

“Something like that, yes,” Galatea said with a nod. “With his injury, we have little choice but to go to him.”

“I cannot say I’m looking forward to planning for war,” Celestia murmured in resignation, “but you’re right, of course, we must prepare as much as possible, as soon as possible. I only wish there were some other way.”

“You have been blessed with many years of peace,” Galatea said, inclining her head. “Do not denigrate that achievement, sister. Millennia of peace is no failure. But all things must end.”

“Perhaps,” Celestia said. “But them ending is sad, nonetheless.”

Ponyville Hospital.

Since the mind delve, Alex had been quiet. When he wasn’t sleeping, he was staring off into the distance and not really reacting much. Lyra had sat by him the entire time, a worried frown on her face.

When Sutra Cross came in, her expression sombre, Alex was thankfully asleep. Lyra smiled at her, but even she thought the smile felt forced.

“You’re worried,” the nurse stated more than asked.

“Yeah,” Lyra said with a sigh. She looked back at him. “I mean… he’s getting quieter.”

Sutra Cross’s expression was sympathetic. “His injuries are quite severe, and without being able to know what the internal wounds might be like…”

She trailed off, but Lyra didn’t need her to go on.

“It’s alright, Nurse Cross,” she said quietly. “Maybe he’ll pull through.”

“Maybe,” Sutra said with a nod, though she didn’t look like she believed it. “Has he been eating?”

“Yes,” Lyra said, motioning to an empty plate and glass on a tray. “In bits and pieces, anyway. Didn’t seem to have any problem with it.”

“That’s something, at least,” Sutra said, nodding slowly. She moved to take the tray away. “I’m afraid at least part of the problem must be an internal injury of some kind. But we daren’t try anything – without knowing what’s going on in there, how it’s arranged…”

“You don’t dare try,” Lyra finished, “for fear of making him worse.”

“Quite,” Sutra Cross said with a nod. She sighed. “I’m sorry, Ms Heartstrings. Unless something changes, I’m afraid we’re nearly at the limit of what we can do.”

“No, it’s alright,” Lyra said quietly. “I appreciate that you’re trying to help.” She sighed. “Honestly, I wish that I knew how to help more than just… just sitting here.”

“‘Just sitting there’ is sometimes all we can do,” Sutra said grimly. “But it’s better than nothing.” She looked at the unconscious human. “He’s lucky to have you here, Ms Heartstrings.”

Without another word, she walked out of the room, leaving Lyra alone with her thoughts.

Redheart was waiting outside Reiner’s room when Sutra stepped out. Despite everything, she was still feeling conflicted: she’d felt conflicted for hours, making observations and charting the progress of Reiner’s condition almost on autopilot.

Reading her counterpart’s own observations had been enlightening as to what sort of things she might have expected, and her own observations corroborated what her less-experienced other had surmised. She had guessed it was an internal injury, which Redheart knew was certainly damage incurred during the fight with the Guardsponies she had sent in after him. She suppressed the urge to growl: she had known some of those ponies.

And he knew the humans we killed to get to him, no doubt, she thought, feeling a sudden wave of… empathy? Sympathy? Whatever it was, it felt entirely alien to her when it concerned a human, but it was there, all the same.

“Well?” she asked Sutra quietly, as her old colleague placed an empty food tray on a cart.

Sutra’s eyes met Redheart’s, and the veteran knew then that Sutra had little hope.

“We don’t know what to do,” she said, her tone hopeless. “I don’t want to risk a blind healing spell: I don’t know what he’s supposed to look like in there, whether my intent would go awry…”

Redheart nodded. Like all spells, blanket full-body healing spells required intent. It was why most ponies didn’t use them apart from trained medical professionals: you might have good intentions, but if you didn’t know what and where to look, how everything was supposed to be when it fitted together…

… well, Redheart had seen what happened, and it was messy.

“I hate feeling this helpless,” Sutra added, stamping a hoof on the ground. “I’ve never lost a patient to my own inaction before.”

“It isn’t your own inaction if you literally don’t know what to do,” Redheart pointed out. “You’re doing the responsible thing.”

“It is my inaction, whether it’s responsible thing or not,” Sutra countered, “and I hate it. ‘Do no harm’ doesn’t mean ‘do nothing’!”

And I shall do no harm.

Redheart’s lips pursed. “What’s his current condition?”

“He’s unconscious, probably fading,” Sutra said, frowning. “Why?”

Redheart sighed. “I’ve got an idea.” She sighed. “I’m going to regret it though.”

“What do you mean?” Sutra asked.

Redheart didn’t reply. Instead, she reached over and hugged Sutra.

“Whatever else happens to me,” she said, “it was really good to see you again.”

“Again? What?” Sutra said, frowning at her as she released the hug. “I don’t get it. What do you mean?”

Redheart just smiled, before reaching for a bottle and taking a long drink. She winced: she could feel a massive headache coming on.

Lyra placed a hoof on Alex’s shoulder. The sleeping man stirred, but did not wake.

“It’s silly,” she said quietly. “I’ve only known you a few days. But you’re a human: proof that I’m not crazy, proof that all the stuff I do isn’t just me being stupid. And you’re…” She sighed. “You’ve told me about a world where I’ve done something that matters.”

The man did not stir.

“It’s weird, y’know,” she continued, “to matter. I mean, to matter properly. I guess I matter to some of my friends. And to Bon Bon…” She trailed off. “Celestia. I don’t even know what happened to Bon Bon. In your world. I haven’t asked. Some marefriend I am, huh?”

He did not reply, and now Lyra sighed, leaning her head against his body.

“Wake up, please,” she whispered. “After everything you’ve told us, everything you’ve shown us, you’ve got to pull through. You’ve got to. You can’t die yet, not when there’s so much for us to show one another.”

“Ms Heartstrings?” came a familiar voice from behind her.

Lyra raised her head and turned to see Redheart staring at her. The Nurse had an odd expression on her face, like she had been thinking long and hard about something.

“Excuse me,” she said quietly. She pulled a small bottle from her saddlebag, inspected it, sighed, and then approached Alex’s IV bag.

“What are you doing?” Lyra asked, frowning at her.

“Healing spell in a bottle, basic all purpose, should knit him back together in a relatively short span,” Redheart said quietly. “Only a small amount of recovery time. Probably two to three days. He’ll be fine.”

Lyra frowned as Redheart injected it into the IV. A moment passed as the pale green liquid went through the small tubes and entered Alex’s system.

“W-why didn’t you use this before?” Lyra asked. “And why didn’t you get a Unicorn to do it? Why the bottle?”

“Blanket healing spells aren’t advisable, generally,” Redheart replied. “You have to know the anatomy of the creature you’re healing. No Unicorn could heal him.”

“And the spell-in-a-bottle?” Lyra asked.

“Recent invention, actually,” Redheart said with a tired smile. “Intent from one, magic from another. Useful if all your medics are Earth Ponies and all your Unicorns are soldiers. All you need is the raw magic, and a bit of focusing, and ‘poof’. Magical healing in a bottle.” She clicked her tongue impatiently. “Takes a while, so it’s not as good as a real healing spell, but… well, beggars can’t be choosers on a battlefield.”

Lyra frowned as she watched the liquid enter Alex’s system.

“You didn’t answer when I asked why you didn’t use this before,” she said quietly.

“No, I didn’t, did I?” Redheart agreed. “Few reasons. I suppose the least of which was that I only have a little of the potion. Enough for… what, two doses on a pony? More like one and a bit for a human, though, so…”

“This doesn’t make sense,” Lyra said, shaking her head. “You… how can you have the right intent if you don't know what a healthy human is supposed to look like?”

“Ah, well, you can’t,” Redheart replied, smiling ruefully. “That’s pretty clear to see.”

Lyra’s eyes widened. “Wait. Wait, that… you… you’ve seen them before, then. Humans, I mean.”

“Yes, that is rather what I implied, isn’t it?” Redheart said. She clicked her tongue again. “Seems to be working, now.”

Alex’s expression had indeed calmed, and his eyes were starting to gently flutter open.

“Wh-what?” he murmured, looking at Lyra and Redheart. He glanced at his IV, the green liquid still glowing from the bag as it went into his arm. “Hey, Lyra… where did you get green goo from?”

“Green what now?” Lyra asked.

Alex gave a fuzzy smile. “Green goo, y’know? Solar Empire’s ubiquitous healy shit. They only invented it a year ago, keeps them…” His expression became blearily confused. “Hey, you shouldn’t have it yet…”

His eyes closed and his murmurs became unintelligible.

“He’ll be like this for another hour, I suspect,” Redheart said. Lyra turned to look at her, but she’d backed away, reaching the door. “But he should make a full -”

“He said Solar Empire,” Lyra cut her off, her expression becoming a frown. “This is Solar Empire medicine.”

Redheart said nothing, but the guilty smile on her face was enough.

“How long?” Lyra asked. “How long have you been pretending to be Redheart?”

“I am Redheart,” Redheart replied, smiling sadly. “Just… well, not the Redheart you know.”

“You’re…” Lyra swallowed. “You’re an agent of the Empire.”

“One of Her Majesty’s finest soldiers, actually,” Redheart said, wincing. “And now, her greatest failure. I could have poisoned him, you know. Straight up killed him.” She winced again: she was pulling an expression rather like someone was jamming a pin somewhere sensitive. “Instead, I let sentiment and my old healer’s oath convince me to try and save him. Some soldier I am. I should be strung up like a traitor.” She shook her head, and Lyra tensed. “But no, that won’t happen. I can still escape. Maybe find some other way to be useful, make up for this, or at least -”

Lyra let out a yell and suddenly threw a spell at Redheart, who dodged it with ease. She rolled her eyes at Lyra, almost as if she were exasperated.

“The Lyra Heartstrings of my world,” she said evenly, “was never that good a fighter, no matter what the propagandists said about how amazing she was at literally everything. And she had training. What do you have?”

Lyra growled. “I’ve got the will to kick your plot six ways from Sunday.”

“Well, that’s nice,” Redheart said condescendingly, “but not exactly intimidating. I’ve been a soldier for decades, Lyra. You’re outmatched.”

“Buck you,” Lyra growled. She threw another spell, and Redheart dodged again, even as the spell smashed into a wall, leaving a char.

“I’m sure the hospital won’t appreciate you ruining their decor,” Redheart said evenly. “Come on, stop this silliness -”

Abandoning magic, Lyra charged right at Redheart, only to find herself f in a headlock.

“Seriously,” Redheart hissed. “Stop. You’re an innocent. A civilian. I don’t want to to hurt you.”

“You’re part of the regime that he's fighting, an evil regime!” Lyra yelled, struggling.

“Oh, yes, the old human sob story, ‘oh the Empire are so evil’,” Redheart said, rolling her eyes. “There’s no such thing as evil, Lyra, just different beings with different objectives. I fight for my flag, he fights for his flag. I wouldn’t expect a civilian to understand.”

Lyra would have argued further, struggled more, but by now Redheart’s chokehold had started making her woozy, and her vision was fading.

“Believe it or not,” Redheart said, her voice softer, “I didn’t want to fight you. Or anypony.” She was murmuring in Lyra’s ear now as consciousness left the little minty-green mare. “I took an oath. Do no harm. Even an enemy deserves my help. I only wish you could understand.”

Lyra blacked out before she could even try to reply.

Redheart let out a breath and gently lowered Lyra to the floor. She was fortunate the commotion had yet to draw a crowd. She looked at Reiner, who was definitely breathing easier now.

“You won’t appreciate my help, I’m sure,” she said to him, feeling bile rising in her throat and her head pounding with agony. “But I’m bound by more than one oath. Just know that next time, if there is a next time, I’ll bucking kill you.”

She turned and left the room, leaving the two unconscious beings behind.

Galatea and Celestia trotted towards Ponyville Hospital. They had landed a few minutes ago outside the town’s border, avoiding being seen by the majority of the townsfolk. Galatea had once again donned her cloak, and looked for all the world like a slightly oversized beggar.

“It is best I am still a secret to most,” Galatea had said evenly when Celestia questioned her attire. “Let them think I am merely a Unicorn of unusual size.”

“Somehow, I doubt you’ll fool many ponies,” Celestia snorted as they trotted along.

“You’d be surprised how easily your ponies may be fooled,” Galatea replied with a wink. “Or did you think I watched you merely from some high tower with a crystal ball?”

Celestia paused. “You’ve been amongst our ponies before.”

“Many times, hidden in plain sight,” Galatea replied. She chuckled. “It has often been… enlightening.”

They trotted along the path to the hospital speedily. The cloudy sky above them was more than a little ominous.

“Did you ask for rain?” Galatea asked as they reached the hospital entrance.

“I believe these things are scheduled automatically,” Celestia said smoothly.

“Indeed,” Galatea murmured, looking up at the clouds. Celestia saw her newfound sister’s brow furrow.

“What?” she asked.

“I am not sure,” Galatea murmured. “I feel… a sense.”

“A sense,” Celestia repeated, slowly looking up in the direction Galatea was.

“Excuse me,” a voice softly said, as a mare passed the two Alicorns and trotted towards the town.

“Yes,” Galatea said, still frowning. “I don’t know… it feels almost like…”

Suddenly, her eyes snapped to the mare who had passed them. Celestia’s gaze followed, and she recognised Nurse Redheart.

“You!” Galatea called after her.

The Nurse didn’t stop, and Galatea let out a low growl.

“Galatea, what is it?” Celestia asked, but Galatea simply disappeared, before reappearing in front of Redheart, her hooded cloak cast aside and her wings outward in a gesture of challenge. Redheart stumbled, backing away from Galatea with a shocked yelp.

“I sense her foul magicks on you!” Galatea yelled. “Surrender, cur!”

Redheart glanced back at Celestia, who was flying towards the two, her wings spread out elegantly.

“Galatea, what are you doing?!” she said, shocked.

“This mare is not what she appears,” Galatea hissed.

“Your M-Highness,” Redheart said quickly, “I don’t know what -”

“Liar,” Galatea hissed. “Reveal yourself and surrender, you cannot escape me!”

“Redheart, what have you done?” Celestia asked.

“Your Majesty,” Redheart said, speaking even quicker, her eyes wide with horror. “I swear, I don’t know what she’s talking about -”

Celestia noticed it just as Galatea spoke again.

“She called you ‘Majesty’, sister,” the other Alicorn said with a triumphant, almost vicious grin. “Only the servants of your other self use that title.”

“I-it was a slip of the tongue,” Redheart whimpered, her terrified gaze flitting between Celestia and Galatea as though she couldn’t decide which was more terrifying.

“She’s right, Redheart,” Celestia whispered. “Or… are you even Redheart?”

Redheart’s expression hardened. “I am. I will always be her. I am the loyal servant of the Sun, now and forever.”

“Where is your counterpart, cur?” Galatea growled.

“Alive,” Redheart said, scowling at Galatea. “Unlike yours. I remember seeing your body, a smoking wreck lying in the dirt of that broken heathen church. D’you think you can stop Her Majesty? D’you think any of you can -”

Galatea’s horn flared, and Redheart’s eyes rolled back in her head as she collapsed to the floor.

“Galatea!” Celestia exclaimed, scandalised.

“She lives,” Galatea growled, before taking a deep breath. “Apologies. I… should not have reacted so emotionally.”

“It… it’s fine,” Celestia whispered, kneeling by the unconscious Redheart and examining her. She was so similar… Celestia might never have noticed the difference between this Redheart and the ‘real’ one from their own Equestria.

How long might she have spied on us? the Solar Diarch wondered.

“This is only the start,” Galatea said grimly. “The beginning of the horror that awaits.”

“I can’t believe this,” Celestia whispered.

“Believe it,” Galatea rejoined. “They are not mythical monsters, sister. They are us. Our people, twisted by propaganda, fear, and…”

She trailed off, and Celestia glanced at her, her eyes narrowing.

“And what, Galatea?” she asked.

Galatea’s eyes softened. “I… I do not think -”

“Tell me, sister,” Celestia said, tapping the unconscious Redheart. “Tell me what turns my beloved little ponies into this.”

Galatea sighed. “Twisted love and trust. They love her as they love you. They trust her to guide them into the light. And now, for whatever reason, she leads them into the dark instead.”

Celestia’s eyes hardened. “I see.” She took a deep breath. “Well then, sister. We are going to have to stop her, aren’t we?”

Galatea nodded, a small smile creeping onto her face. “That we are, sister.”

So this isdefinitely a divergence from what the Crew are planning, because we've talked about it at length. Still, I'm proud of it - it was sort of what I'd always intended for Redheart, since... ooh, working on the "real" SPECTRUM's Chapter Three? So I'm glad to bring it to you.

“So it begins.”
King Theoden, The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers.

Ponyville Hospital, May 6th, Year 3 Era Harmonia.

“That… lying… bitch.”

Alex was furious, more so than Lyra had seen even when he had been threatening Fluttershy. He was unconsciously rubbing his arm every few seconds where the IV had fed the ersatz Nurse Redheart’s healing potion into his body, and he was pacing furiously. The runes on his arm glowed every so often, as though reacting to his rage.

“That bitch was right here,” he was muttering furiously to himself. “Right here. I should have known that something was wrong, should have felt it… fuckdammit…”

“I mean…” Lyra said, wincing slightly – her throat was still a little sore from Redheart’s attack, despite Nurse Cross having looked it over. “You’re better. Right?”

“That’s not the fucking point!” Alex snapped.

Lyra scrambled backwards, shocked at his outburst, and then immediately Alex’s expression softened. He sighed, then sat back down on his bed.

“That’s not the point,” he said again, quieter now. “She could have killed me. Or worse, killed you.” He growled in frustration. “I should have realised sooner.”

“You were ill, Alex,” Lyra countered. “There's no way you could have known. I mean heck, not even the Princesses realised what she was.”

“There are ways I could have known,” Alex growled. He stood up again. “I still don’t get why she didn’t just poison me.”

“It’s good, though, isn’t it?” Lyra asked. “I mean… that she didn’t. I-isn’t it?”

Alex gave her a look. “It’s just disconcerting, is all. Somebody – somepony – put foreign stuff in my body. It could have been – well, it could have been anything.” He paused, and his eyes suddenly widened in horror. “Fuck that Solar Bitch up the ass with a rusty spanner so hard it tears through her stomach and turns her pretty white throat to a fucking ruinous…”

He trailed off, letting out a relieved sigh, but his expression quickly turned to embarrassment at Lyra’s horrified stare.

“W-why did you say all that?” she asked.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” he replied, smiling awkwardly. “I, uh, was testing myself.”

“Testing yourself?” Lyra repeated incredulously. “What for? Tact?”

Alex let out a laugh at that, and Lyra relaxed incrementally.

“No,” he said finally. “Uh, sorry.”

Lyra just grunted in reply.

“Funnily enough, that was the ‘Lyra test’,” he continued after a moment. “Swearing like that, especially about Queen Celestia, is something Newfoals and other brainwashed servants of the Empire just… well, they can’t do it. At all.” His expression hardened again. “It’s too human for them.”

“The ‘Lyra test’?” Lyra repeated.

“Yeah,” Alex said, and he gave a bittersweet smile. “Named for the pony who discovered it.”

“Of course,” Lyra said, nodding slowly. “I… I guess she did a lot.”

“Oh yeah,” Alex said, his smile fading. “I just wish…”

He trailed off, but Lyra didn’t need to ask him what he wished for: it was obvious.

“So… you thought she might have brainwashed you?” she asked.

“God knows,” Alex replied. “The PER and the Empire had some pretty weird stuff. Shieldwall, Amduscias, whatever that thing with Cairn was…”

He trailed off, shaking his head.

“Are you… okay?” Lyra asked.

“We’ve been through the wringer,” he replied, giving her a faint smile. “It’s nothing I’ve not had squared away for a while.”

“So,” she said after a moment. “You feel… better, now?”

“Yeah,” he replied, grimacing. “I do. She actually fixed me up.” He sighed. “I just wish I understood why.”

“Well…” Lyra scratched the back of her head idly. “I don’t know. Maybe she wanted to switch sides?”

“No,” Alex said at once.

“Hey, it’s not impossible,” Lyra said. “Redheart’s a good pony here, she -”

“That’s not what I mean,” Alex cut her off. “The Guard in that Equestria are subject to a Geas. It prevents them from betraying Equestria. The only ponies who’ve ever broken that have been…” He trailed off. “Look, there’s been one or two isolated incidents, here or there. Only one of them in any way ‘good’. But it’s rare. So rare that we don’t understand it, properly.”

“So… maybe she did?” Lyra asked.

Alex shook his head. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.” He sighed. “And unfortunately, we don’t really have time to worry about it.”

Lyra nodded, a frown on her face. “Did they say when you had to be at Canterlot by?”

“They’re sending Night Guard with a carriage as my escort,” Alex said quietly. He rolled his eyes. “That should be fun.”

Nurse Redheart’s home.

“I don’t know, your highness,” Nurse Redheart was saying, wincing in pain as she drank some tea. “I honestly didn’t hear a word from her. These last few days have been a blur.”

Celestia took a sip from her own cup. She had brewed the tea herself: she had once heard Sint Erklass that almost anything could be resolved by drinking a lovely cup of tea, and while she was sure there must have been some limit to that, most of the time she found it worked quite well.

“I believe you,” she said quietly.

“It is disturbing that nopony noticed,” Galatea said from one corner of the room as she peered over the mantelpiece.

Eschewing tea, she had instead paced Redheart’s room, searching for whatever they could find to give them a hint of the impostor’s movements. The other Redheart, apart from taking up their Redheart’s old drinking habit and leaving a battered cloak lying in the living room, hadn’t changed anything, written notes, or generally left any evidence as to what she had been planning to do, something Celestia considered sensible from an analytical point of view. Without a paper trail, there was no way to figure out if she had set anything in motion.

“She was me, wasn’t she?” Redheart said quietly. “Like, properly me, not some kind of changeling?”

“That’s right,” Celestia said with a slow nod. She looked at Galatea, who was still looking around.

“When the war begins in earnest,” the other Alicorn said after a moment, “you must be sure to maintain vigilance against spies. If this other Redheart had chosen to do so, she could have done much harm.”

“War?” Redheart repeated, her eyes widening. “What war?”

“Don’t worry, Redheart,” Celestia assured the shaken pony. “You’ve been through a lot recently: you can rest for now.”

“Thank you, your highness,” Redheart said, nodding. “But I think I would prefer to be useful. If something happens… if there’s a war coming, of all things… well, I wouldn’t feel right being sat on the sidelines.”

“And I appreciate that greatly,” Celestia said gently. Her expression became morose. “I fear we will have ample need of your services before too long.”

She stood, and Redheart rose as well, bowing her head.

“We live to serve, your highness,” she intoned. In that moment, Celestia was reminded of the other Redheart.

So similar, and yet bent on such different courses, she thought. Not for the first time she wondered: How did it come to this?

“I strive only to be worthy of it,” she said, inclining her own head in return.

With that, she turned and left Redheart’s home, Galatea following behind her, seemingly still lost in thought.

“Well?” Celestia asked.

“I don’t know what you expect me to say,” Galatea said quietly.

“I expected you to know something,” Celestia replied, her tone as even as she could keep it, considering the disturbing implication of what had occurred.

Galatea shook her head. “My counterpart was dead by the time this other Redheart must have been sent through. I knew nothing of her.”

Celestia sighed. “No. Well, I suppose our next course of action is to…”

“You must summon the creature Discord as soon as possible.” Galatea’s expression brooked no argument.

“Oh?” Celestia said, raising an eyebrow. “Is that an order?”

Galatea snorted. “I do not give orders. That would imply I have ever had any use for them: I do not. I am merely telling you what must be done.” She had a wry smile. “It is your business, sister, to decide whether you do as I suggest or not.”

Celestia rolled her eyes. It was strange: far from being the blank slate she might have seemed initially, there was an odd humour about Galatea. Celestia wondered just what sort of oddball millennia of isolation had made of her.

“You never did explain,” Celestia said quietly after a moment. “Why Discord?”

“There are very few raw powers capable of breaching the wall between universes,” Galatea replied smoothly. “Discord is one such power. His chaotic energy will be able to breach the walls between worlds.”

“Hmm,” Celestia grunted, a soft frown on her face. “But your counterpart achieved this end herself, didn’t she?”

“She did not, in fact,” Galatea shook her head. “Not in the way you mean, at least.”

“She was able to contact you,” Celestia pointed out.

“Contact, not meet,” Galatea clarified with a small frown. “There is a difference. And even then, I do not know how she achieved this. There may have been strange means involved.” At Celestia’s confused expression, Galatea smiled. “We shared much, she and I, when she asked for mine help. But not everything. Not nearly that much.”

Celestia nodded, before sighing. “Come then, Galatea. There is much we must still do.”

Luna herself was waiting with the carriage that they would be taking. Alex looked immensely relieved when he saw that it was a carriage with a roof and a door.

“I can’t deal with flying without a roof,” he had confided to Lyra. “Like, really. There’s a reason I’m a Marine and not in the Airborne.”

“Airborne?” Lyra repeated, frowning. “Flying soldiers?”

“Not quite,” Alex replied. “They’re soldiers who specialise in deploying from height with parachutes. We also call ‘em paratroopers.”

“Oh,” Lyra said, not really sure how else to reply. Thankfully, Luna stepped forward to meet them, and all questions about human soldiers disappeared from Lyra’s mind.

“Are you both ready to go?” Luna asked them.

Alex nodded. “I am, I guess. Will it just be you and Celestia?”

“And Galatea,” Luna said quietly, her expression making it clear that she was none-too-pleased at the thought. “And, eventually, there will be others as well. We have summoned all of Equus to aid in this cause.”

Alex nodded again. “Here’s hoping it will be enough.”

“We shall see,” Luna said. “You will find the carriage accommodating of your size, at least.”

Alex looked it over. Sure enough, it did seem a little large for ponies.

“It was built for myself and my sister,” Luna said. “So it’s somewhat larger than the ones we have for our little ponies.”

“Cool,” Lyra said.

Luna turned to Lyra, as though only just remembering she was there. “And you, Lyra Heartstrings? Have you also made your preparations?”

Lyra nodded. In truth, she had barely seen Bon Bon over the last few days: she had written a letter this morning and asked Nurse Sutra Cross to deliver it. She only hoped that Bonnie would forgive her.

This is all too important to keep out of, she thought grimly.

“Very well, then,” Luna said. She sighed. “We have a difficult task ahead of us.”

“Yeah, don’t I know it,” Alex said, a smirk on his face that seemed entirely devoid of mirth. “But I’ll worry about that when we’re on solid ground again. God knows we’ll spend long enough worrying later.”

“That much is true, I fear,” Luna said quietly, “but we shall persevere, Alexander Reiner. Ponies always do.”

A shadow passed across Alex’s face, and Lyra couldn’t help but think that he was thinking of the Solar Empire. She rested a hoof on his hand, and he looked down at her, a small smile tracing his features.

“Come on,” he said to her quietly. “Let’s get going.”

“Yeah,” Lyra said, smiling. “Let’s.”

Lyra Heartstrings’ residence.

“I don’t bucking believe her,” Bon Bon said flatly.

A nurse named Sutra Cross had just given her a letter from Lyra. She had opened it immediately, Nurse Cross still standing there, as though expecting some sort of reply.

Dear Bonnie,

Am going to Canterlot to continue helping, serious stuff happening. Too complicated to explain. Will write more soon.

All love,
Lyra.

“I’m sorry,” Sutra Cross said quietly. “I… realise it probably isn’t particularly good news -”

“It’s just… so like her,” Bon Bon cut the other mare off. “To go off without so much as a ‘by your leave’ and get herself involved in some nonsense or another.” She sighed. “Darn it, Lyra, what have you gotten mixed up in?!”

Sutra Cross gave a small, sympathetic smile. “I can, uh, come in and try to explain? If you like?”

“Would you?” Bon Bon asked, trying very hard not to sound sarcastic, standing aside and letting Cross into hers and Lyra’s house. “It’s just… this… ugh. This.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Sutra Cross said with a chuckle. “I dated someone flighty in University. Well, he was a Pegasus, so…”

“Flighty is in the description,” Bon Bon finished the old truism, giggling in turn. “Lyra doesn’t even have that excuse.”

“If it helps,” Sutra Cross said, sitting on the settee, “she’s very compassionate. I genuinely think that she’s doing what she’s doing because she feels like it’s the best thing she can do.”

“I believe you,” Bon Bon said with a sigh. “It’s probably the only reason I put up with her. She’s… just good hearted. Y’know?”

“I’ve seen a lot of that,” Cross said, nodding. She sighed. “I don’t mind telling you… from what little I’ve picked up about this human creature…”

The bell rang, and Bon Bon sighed.

“One moment,” she said quietly to Cross. She turned and went to the door, and found – to her surprise – that it was the tan and brown Earth Stallion Doctor Whooves standing there.

“Oh, hello Bon Bon,” he said, giving her a grin. “Hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Not at all, Doc,” Bon Bon said with a snort. “We were just discussing Lyra’s human.”

“Ah, good,” Whooves said, still grinning. “I was just wondering if dear old Derby had dropped my sonic screwdriver ‘round here while she was visiting, she lost it at some point in the last few days after I leant it to her and she -”

He paused, his eyes widening. Bon Bon frowned.

“Doc?” she said. “You alright?”

“Sorry,” he said, speaking quietly, “but did you say… human?”

“Uh… yeah,” Bon Bon said, still frowning. He knew the name? “Why do you ask?”

Instead of replying, he ran a hoof through his mane and whistled slowly.

“Well,” he said slowly, his eyebrows meeting his mane, in seeming defiance of the basic laws of musculature. “Great… wickering… stallions.”

Canterlot Library.

Celestia took a deep breath, glancing sideways at Galatea, who had once again placed her cloak over her Alicorn features to disguise them.

“You’re certain you don’t want to tell them, at least?” she asked quietly.

“Not yet,” Galatea replied quietly. She gave a wry smile. “Forgive me, Celestia, if I do not feel comfortable revealing mine self and mine true nature to anypony who walks in off the street.”

“They’re hardly ‘anypony who walks in off the street’,” Celestia admonished gently, “but it is your secret to keep, sister. Come.”

She knocked gently on the door.

“Come in!” Twilight’s voice said.

Twilight looked up as Celestia entered the Library, Galatea maintaining a respectful distance behind her. The purple Unicorn was still buried in a pile of books. Most of her friends were not present, but Pinkie Pie was… albeit asleep, face down, on another book that Celestia was fairly certain was older than the combined age of the entirety of Twilight’s immediate friend group.

“Princess Celestia!” Twilight said, a bright smile on her face. “Any news?!”

“Much,” Celestia said quietly. “Any progress here?”

“A little, actually,” Twilight said.

She pulled one book out of the pile towering over her, the teetering pile of paper miraculously staying put, and held it out in her magic. Celestia glanced at the title: Runic Symbols Of Antiquity, Edited by M. Trotsworth.

“Professor Trotsworth’s work on runes,” she said evenly. She passed it to Galatea, who looked it over.

“Something to do with Alexander Reiner’s runes,” she said evenly. “Yes, researching them may prove worthwhile, if there is a secret there we do not yet know.”

Twilight frowned in confusion. “Uh… forgive me if this seems rude, but… who are you?”

Galatea coughed. “A scholar, the Princess asked for mine presence with regards to the… human.”

Twilight nodded slowly. “I… see. I’m sorry, Ms, uh…”

“Galatea is an old friend I have not seen in some time,” Celestia said smoothly. “She has only recently returned to Canterlot after a long absence.”

“What? Long absence?!” Pinkie Pie’s head had shot up as soon as the words left Celestia’s mouth, a wide eyed grin on her face. Her eyes fixed on Galatea. “Ooh, hi! I’m Pinkie Pie! Who are you?!”

Galatea took a step back, not sure how to react to this pink smiling blur of a mare. “I… I am Galatea. I am a scholar.”

“Ooh, neat!” Pinkie said, still grinning widely. “You’ll love this place. There’s absolutely loads of books. More books than a book factory.” She paused. “Well, actually, I don't know about that, I’ve never been to a book factory. There might be more books than a book factory, but -”

“Pinkie,” Twilight said, curtailing her friend’s enthusiasm – for which Celestia was very grateful. “I’m sure the Princess’s friend must be tired if she’s had a long journey.”

“Oh, yeah,” Pinkie said with a grin. “Absolutely.” She paused, tilting her head. “Hey, uh, Ms Galatea? Don’t your wings get cramped under there? If I had wings, I’d want them to get plenty of air!”

Celestia’s head swivelled around almost faster than she thought possible, her eyes wide with shock.

“Excuse me?” Galatea said, her own expression bemused.

“Y’know, your wings? Cramped? Cloak?” Pinkie asked, as though this were obvious. She pointed to the side of Galatea’s body. “They’re pressed pretty tight but I can sort of see the outline.”

Galatea raised an eyebrow, before casting her cloak aside. Twilight let out a gasp as Galatea’s wings spread out, and lowered her head.

“Forgive me, Princess…” she began, before stuttering. “Uh, uh, Princess…”

“I am not a Princess,” Galatea said evenly. “I am merely Galatea.”

“Uh, then, forgive me, Galatea,” Twilight said, her head still bowed. “I’m so sorry I did not realise…”

“You weren’t meant to realise,” Celestia assured her, frowning at Pinkie. “Which begs the question of how you did.”

Pinkie rolled her eyes. “It’s a cloak! I could still see the bumps from her wings, and she’s got a similar build to Princess Cadance or Princess Luna.”

Celestia glanced back at Galatea, who snorted.

“Most ponies don’t look,” she explained. “They don’t exactly expect another Alicorn to pop up.”

“Honestly, I didn’t really expect another Alicorn to pop up, but I figured I should be prepared!” Pinkie said cheerfully. “In case of serious Alicorn emergencies. It was kind of a long shot.”

Galatea blinked. “That… does not make sense.”

“It really does, though!” Pinkie countered. “Life always provides you with what you need, if you look hard enough. Emergency coffee, emergency fireworks, emergency tubas…”

“Emergency Alicorns?” Celestia said with an amused expression.

“Yupperoonie!” Pinkie said brightly. “I’ve always believed that the universe provides when you need it the most.”

To Celestia’s surprise, Galatea began chuckling.

“If the universe requires me,” she said quietly, “I shall only hope not to be a disappointment.”

“I am sure you won’t be,” Celestia said quietly.

“But… but who are you?” Twilight asked, her eyes still wide with surprise. “I don’t understand… if you’re an Alicorn, did you… are you like Cadance, did you become one, or did you -”

“Twilight,” Celestia said gently, a smile on her face. “These are all important questions, I know, and I hope you never stop being so curious about the world, but I’m afraid there is much that must still take up our attention.”

Twilight nodded. “Oh, uh, of course.”

“There is just one, very important, question,” Pinkie said, her tone suddenly incredibly serious.

She looked at Galatea, who raised her eyebrow.

“And what question might that be, little pony?” she asked.

“When,” Pinkie said, seriously, “is your birthday.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Galatea nodded solemnly, as though taking the question immensely seriously.

“I believe it was June the 3rd by the Equestrian Calendar,” she said quietly. “But I could be mistaken. I have never celebrated my birthday before.”

Pinkie Pie blinked. “Never… celebrated… your birthday.”

“No,” Galatea said simply. “It has never come up before.”

Pinkie took a deep breath, as though steadying herself, then smiled. “I see. And how many birthdays have you, uh, not celebrated?”

Galatea blinked. “I believe the number is somewhere in the region of eight thousand. Maybe nine.”

“Which is it? Eight or nine thousand?” Pinkie asked.

“Why do you wish to know?” Galatea asked.

“Research purposes,” Pinkie replies at once.

Galatea nodded, and then shrugged. “I was only awake for three and a half thousand of them, give or take. You would have to ask Sint Erklass of the Reindeer just how many years it has been since I was made.”

Pinkie nodded, before gently grabbing a piece of notepaper and scribbling something down with a quill.

“I see,” she said. “Okay. Thank you.”

“What have you done?” Twilight whispered.

Celestia threw Galatea a look, and the other Alicorn merely smiled, before leaving the room, raising her cloak in her magic field and swirling it around herself once more. Celestia raised an eyebrow, looking at the other two ponies with bemusement.

“Well, I shall leave you to your research, My Little Ponies,” she said after a moment. “If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you, Princess,” Twilight said, inclining her head. Pinkie bowed too, still murmuring to herself. Satisfied, Celestia left the room, following her sister.

“Eight or nine thousand,” Pinkie was muttering quietly to herself, he quill once again scribbling. “Eight. Or. Nine. Thousand.”

“Are you… alright, Pinkie?” Twilight asked.

“Just… planning an ‘eight-or-nine-thousand-birthdays-in-one’ party,” Pinkie said. She clicked her tongue. “It’d be much easier if it was just an ‘eight thousand’ or ‘nine thousand’ birthday party. Those are much easier.” She sighed. “But the combined eight-or-nine-thousand party?! Do you have any idea how rare they are?”

“They must be pretty rare,” Twilight commented dryly.

“Super rare,” Pinkie nodded. “I’ve only had to do three of them!”

“Wait… three?” Twilight repeated, frowning. “But I… But you… how?!”

“It’s a long story, Twi,” Pinkie said with a whistle. “It’s not very interesting, though it does have pirates in it. But it does mean I have a doozy of a party to plan.”

The ride to Canterlot had been smooth, which Alex had apparently not been expecting. He had taken the opportunity, much to Lyra’s surprise, to have a nap, his head leaning against the soft back of the chair.

Lyra, meanwhile, had been left to her thoughts, and much as she tried to control them they drifted off in directions she couldn’t help. She found herself wondering just what would happen if they somehow managed to contact Alex’s world. Would it be war, then? Would they enter the conflict against this Solar Empire? Could Princess Celestia defeat this evil version of herself, even with Luna and the stranger Galatea’s help?

So much uncertainty, Lyra thought, resting her own head against the soft chair. So much doubt. But we have to do something, don’t we?

Of course, another thought said. We didn’t spend so long looking for humans to turn our backs on them in their hour of need.

Yeah, Lyra thought with a nod as she drifted off. I guess not.

It felt like she had only just put her head down to sleep when the carriage landed, the gentle bump waking both her and Alex up. She blinked sleep out of her eyes.

“How long were we asleep?” Alex asked.

Lyra shook her her head. “I don’t know. Maybe an hour? It’s a long ride, but I think I fell asleep.”

“Don’t blame you,” Alex told her, smiling. He sighed as the door to the carriage opened. “Come on. Let’s do this thing.”

He stood, and stepped off the carriage, his head ducking slightly as he went out of the door. Luna was waiting for them, as were a contingent of her Night Guard.

“I must meet with Celestia,” she said at once. “My trusted Guard will see you both to your respective chambers.”

“Where’s the… the other Redheart?” Alex asked, frowning slightly.

Luna blinked. “Why do you wish to know?”

“Because she’s my enemy,” Alex replied, folding his arms in what Lyra guessed was a defensive or confrontational movement. “I have to see her, at least. Find out if she knows anything.”

Luna nodded slowly. “I… see.” She turned to her Guards. “See to it that the human is allowed to visit the prisoner in my tower.”

The Guards bowed.

“Ask, and they will guide you,” Luna told Alex. “For now, farewell.”

She spread her wings and set off into the sky. Alex let out a sigh, closing his eyes.

“If you’ll both follow us,” one of the Guards put in. “We’ll take you to your chambers.”

The Guards turned and began marching off, and Lyra and Alex followed. Alex had his hands in his pockets, almost as though he was brooding. It wasn’t really a good look on him, but Lyra knew what was wrong. She touched his arm.

“You really want to see her?” she asked.

He looked down at her again, and smiled.

“Yes. I have to,” he replied. He sighed. “I need to… I need to see this, see her for myself. She saved me.” He frowned. “I… I need to understand why.”

“Why what?” Lyra asked.

“Why she saved me,” Alex clarified. He shook his head. “It’s not supposed to be possible for them.”

“To show mercy?” Lyra said gently.

“Exactly,” Alex said, almost vehemently. “It’s not supposed to be possible.”

“Why not?” Lyra asked.

“They’re controlled,” Alex explained. “A Geas, a kind of spell that compels obedience.”

“I think I’ve heard of those,” Lyra said quietly. She frowned. “But if she’s controlled, she shouldn’t have been able to do anything.”

“Exactly,” Alex said. “Means there might be more to it.”

Lyra sighed. “Maybe.” She smiled. “Or maybe mercy is more powerful than hate.”

Alex snorted, but despite the implicit dismissal Lyra couldn’t help but like the sound of the thought: mercy was, after all, a beautiful thing. Wouldn’t it have been wonderful if even the supposed worst of beings could show it?

With thanks to Doctor Fluffy for his unerringly accurate Pinkie Pie.

Edited on 28/05/2020 to account for a continuity error.

Of course, it is likely enough, my friends, likely enough that we are going to our doom: the last march of the Ents. But if we stayed home and did nothing, doom would find us anyway, sooner or later. That thought has long been growing in our hearts; and that is why we are marching now. It was not a hasty resolve. Now at least the last march of the Ents may be worth a song.
Treebeard, The Lord Of the Rings: The Two Towers.

When Discord appeared in the throne room with his usual ostentatious flash of light, his eyes were immediately drawn to Galatea. She was standing a little behind Celestia and Luna, as though not wishing to draw attention to herself.

“Oh, hello,” he said, eyes widening as he looked at her. “I was wondering what I could smell. There was something a little different about the castle today.”

Galatea merely narrowed her eyes at Discord, an expression of cold disinterest on her face.

“Greetings, Discord,” Celestia said. “We require your help with a delicate matter.”

“‘We’?” Discord asked, looking between Celestia, Luna and Galatea with a slow smile. “Whatever for?”

“Breaching the barriers of this world and reaching another,” Galatea said curtly. “You will provide the raw energy. I will grant direction.”

“Ooh, how fun,” Discord said. “I’ve toyed with visiting the rest of the multiverse again – did it once on a dare, a long time ago.” He turned on the spot. “I just have just three small questions.” He held up his lion’s paw. “Where?” A digit went up. “Why?” A second digit went up. “And who are you?”

He pointed at Galatea, who’s eyes narrowed still further.

“Will you help us or not?” she asked.

“When I know who I’m doing it for, sure,” Discord retorted. “But I don’t know you, which is pretty surprising since you’re an Alicorn and I’m usually good at knowing when things like you are floating about.”

Galatea gave a cold smile. “Then I am grateful to stymie you, Chaotic Remnant.”

Discord raised an eyebrow. “Chaotic Remnant, indeed? Ooh, you know the old words.”

“Will you help us?” Galatea asked again.

Discord grinned, before disappearing and reappearing right in front of her, floating at eye level whilst lying prone, as though on a bed. He lay his chin on his hands and smiled at her.

“Why should I?” he asked. “What do I get?”

Galatea raised an eyebrow. “It was mine impression that you were bound to aid Celestia in times of need.”

“Help Celestia,” Discord said. “You’re not Celestia.”

“She isn’t,” Celestia put in. “But I am asking you, Discord. Please.”

“I want an answer to my question,” Discord said, not looking at Celestia. “Why? I’m not one of your golden-armoured shinies running around, Celestia, I don’t jump when you ask how high. I want to know what it is you’re selling.”

“Do you think you’re in a place to demand anything from us?” Luna asked, snorting indignantly.

“I’m the one you need help from,” Discord retorted. “So, yes.”

There was a pause, and then Galatea started chuckling. Luna looked at Celestia, who held up a wing to forestall any further comment.

“Do you want to know a secret, Chaos thing?” Galatea asked, still chuckling. “When I saw your age of discontent, all that occurred to me was that, somewhere deep within your subconscious, you wanted to be defeated, didn’t you?”

“Excuse me?” Discord asked.

“You have so much power, and yet are cursed with such a hatred for stagnation,” Galatea continued. “Such is the curse of all Chimerae.”

Discord’s eye twitched. “How do you know that name?”

“You said yourself that I knew the old words,” Galatea said, still smiling. “I know all of them. Even the Old Knowledge, that you yourself have all-but-forgotten.” She let out a soft sigh. “But I also know this of you, Discord. You desperately, desperately seek to be challenged. To test your power against other power. To find greater and greater ways to entertain yourself.”

“So what if I do?” Discord asked.

Galatea leant forward. “Does it rankle you, never truly meeting Celestia one-on-one, head on? Never challenging yourself properly against her for fear of breaking the balance too greatly and ending the challenge? Never being quite so immoral within your chaoticness, so brave and convinced of your rightness, as to do anything that you could not undo with a snap of your claw?”

Discord flashed to behind Celestia.

“I need an adult,” he whimpered, perhaps only half-jokingly.

“I offer you nothing more or less than Celestia,” Galatea said.

Discord’s ears perked up. “What?”

“You did not mishear me,” Galatea said, still smiling. “I offer a Celestia that you can go all out against, Chaos thing. An enemy we must fight, one that you need have no qualms about hurting if that is what it takes to lay her low.”

Discord sniffed, narrowing his eyes as though wondering whether this was a trick, but then he grinned. In a flash, he was in front of Celestia again, his arms folded.

“Tell me more, Ms Mystery Mare,” he said, sounding dangerously excited.

“There is another world that we must reach, one with a corrupted Celestia,” Galatea said, still smiling. “And we must confront her, lend our aid to those fighting her. It will be… dangerous.” She paused. “Will you lend us the power we need to reach that world?”

Discord chuckled. “And in return, I get a go at the ‘evil’ Celestia?”

“Exactly,” Galatea said.

Discord let out a long, evil-sounding cackle.

“You have a deal,” he said.

“We will meet you tomorrow morning, Discord,” Celestia said quietly. “We shall begin then.”

“Whatever you say, Celly,” Discord said, and then he disappeared in another flash of light.

Galatea sighed, her smile disappearing. “That was… tense.”

“You could have been more diplomatic with him,” Luna chastised her. “We did need his help, much as it rankles me to say it.”

“And we have procured it,” Galatea rejoined.

“We nearly did not,” Luna countered. She sighed. “Did you have to be so… unpleasant with him? I do not like him any more than you seem to, but antagonising him was not wise.”

“It worked, did it not?” Galatea said, sounding almost irritable. “Perhaps antagonising him was not the wisest course, but it does not matter, because we have still procured his help.”

Celestia stepped between the two of them, a gentle smile on her face, her wings raised to forestall further conflict.

“Both of you, please,” she said. “Remember we are sisters.”

There was a momentary pause, and then Galatea let out another sigh, looking at Luna. “Mine apologies, sis – Luna. Discord’s reign was a troubling time for me, as well.”

Luna nodded stiffly. “Accepted. Though I still don’t entirely think-”

“Luna,” Celestia said.

Luna scowled and looked away, muttering something under her breath. Celestia didn’t pull her up on it.

“Tomorrow, we will begin our moves against this new enemy,” she said quietly, looking at both of them, “and it is likely that it will be the most dangerous thing we have done in all our years.”

“That much,” Galatea said quietly, her expression resigned, “is true. If you will excuse me.”

She turned and trotted gently out of the throne room, leaving Luna and Celestia alone.

“Seriously,” Luna said after a moment. “I do not like her, Celestia.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow. “I’m so surprised at this shocking revelation. You have caught me completely for a loop. I am totally floored.”

Luna rolled her eyes. “Sarcasm is not helpful.”

“We cannot choose blood, Luna,” Celestia reminded her gently.

“We can choose how we react to it,” Luna retorted. “And I choose to react to this Galatea with distrust: there are a million things she could be doing, a million lies she could be telling. If this Alexander Reiner is from a world where you are somehow corrupted, how do you know she is not the reason?”

Celestia sighed. “I cannot explain with words. I can only tell you that I do believe her. It seems too…” She shook her head. “It seems too great a lie to be a lie.”

“You mean it’s so audacious that it must be true,” Luna said flatly. “This is not a game, Celestia. We could be endangering ourselves.”

“It could be a trap, you mean,” Celestia said.

“Precisely,” Luna hissed. “She could open a portal to who knows where. We could be sending the bulk of our forces to their horrific demise!”

Celestia smiled. “I have no intention of blindly sending an army to their death, sister.” She rapped her hoof lightly on the ground. “Discord?”

In a flash of light, Discord appeared, a smirk on his face.

“A third sister?” he asked. “Sounds like the sort of thing a bad writer would come up with for a soap opera. Heck, I think somepony did that once.”

Celestia rolled her eyes. “You’ve been listening.”

“Yup,” Discord said. “Gotta say, Lulu, your lack of trust in your brand new sister dearest is… well,” he chuckled, “I don’t know if it’s heartening or sad. Maybe both?”

“My point,” Celestia said, before Luna could reply. “My point is that we are not blindly trusting. But we are also not blindly distrusting.”

Luna shook her head. “So we’re trusting him? That feels like burning a forest to cure a spreading rot.”

“Please, Lulu, you know full well I’d never do anything to upset our… arrangement,” Discord said, too innocently.

Luna rolled her eyes, but her expression softened as she looked at Celestia. “I will trust you on this, sister. If you think all of this is… is a good idea…”

Celestia nodded, before smiling. “Cheer up, Luna. Tonight, we drink with our sister, and celebrate the joyous occasion of our reunion.”

“Would the prefix ‘re’ really work?” Discord wondered aloud. “If you’ve never actually met before…”

Celestia levelled a withering glance at him, and he shrugged, before disappearing.

The cells were dark and dreary, and the guards po-faced and armed with spears. Somehow, it both was and was not what he had been expecting from it, but all the same, here he was.

Redheart didn’t look up when he arrived. She was busy throwing a ball against the wall, catching it in her hoof, and throwing it again. It was almost comical.

“I was wondering if you would come to visit,” she said, not looking up.

Alex paused, thinking his words over. He folded his arms. “I didn’t want to… I wanted to see what you were. Now that I know.”

“What I am is what I was,” Redheart retorted, throwing the ball against the wall again.

“I just…” Alex gathered his thoughts. “I don’t get why.”

“Why what?” She did not stop throwing the ball.

He pursed his lips. “You know what.”

“Ah, that.” She sniffed, throwing the ball again. “Do you want to know a secret?” She caught the ball, holding it for a moment, before looking up at him. “Neither do I.”

Alex nodded slowly. “But… you still did it.”

“Before this war I was an Aunt and a sister,” Redheart said, throwing her ball again. “Now? I am neither. But I am still a nurse.” She caught her ball, pausing, and closing her eyes, something that might have been a tear leaking from one eye. She threw her ball again. “My Hippocratic oath still applies.”

There was a pause. The hard impact sound of the ball rebounding from the cell wall seemed to echo between the two of them.

“I don’t get you,” Alex finally said. “Your people spend all their time trying to kill us all, and yet you saved me instead of just letting me slip off. You didn’t have to do anything.”

“You’re right.” Inexplicably, she chuckled. “Strange, isn’t it? So many of our people can’t comprehend human honour, human mercy. But at the same time, you – despite working alongside traitors of our kind – can’t comprehend my mercy.”

“I’ve seen too much of Equestria’s ‘mercy’,” Alex retorted. “Or whatever you call it.”

“Oh, you’ve never seen the glory of Equestria,” Redheart snorted. “They say after we destroy your kind, convert or kill the last of you, we’ll have a magical renaissance.” She paused, a flicker of something unrecognisable in her face. “I hope that’s true. Seeing this place… it’s reminded me of what we were, what we might be again.”

“You won’t win,” Alex hissed, leaning forward, a sudden burst of anger surging through his veins. “We’ll do everything we can to deny you your victory.”

“I know,” Redheart said, smiling almost sadly. “You still hate me, don’t you. Despite what I did.”

“Of course I do,” he replied.

“But,” she continued, “you haven’t done anything to me. Even tried to.”

He scowled. “I’m not in the habit of murdering prisoners or defenceless people. Despite what people think.”

Redheart chuckled. “That isn’t what I’ve heard about you, Colonel Alexander Reiner. Second in command of the Defiance raid, under the… infamous Colonel Robert Gardner. Executed Fergus Farnowitz with a single shot – without trial, wasn’t it? That got you a commendation if I recall.”

“You’ve got the advantage of me, Redheart,” Alex said curtly. “I don’t know anything about you. Your record, your achievements, any of it.” He sniffed. “I guess you’re not all that.”

“But you do know that I saved your life,” Redheart countered, ignoring the obvious bait. “In direct contradiction of the Empire’s established protocol.”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed, “I just don’t know why.”

“It bothers you, doesn’t it,” she said with a chuckle. “If I were just the friendly nurse, or just your ‘evil’ enemy, it would be so simple. But I am the friendly nurse who is your enemy, who saved your life.” She chuckled again, louder this time. “You just don’t know what to think, now, do you?”

“You couldn’t have broken the Geas,” Alex said. “That’s so rare it’s not even funny. I know of one mare who did it, and she’s the exception who proves the rule.”

“I know,” she said. “And yet.”

She rubbed her forehead in obvious discomfort, and there was a moment of silence.

“Strange, you know,” she said quietly, not looking at him. “I should have killed you. That was what was expected of me. It would have been easy. To just… do nothing, let your internal injuries end you slowly and quietly. That would have been merciful, too. I would have spared you the fate you are terrified of, spared you more of the horror, and allowed you to die in a land more peaceful than any your kind or mine has ever known. An even more perfect Equestria.”

“Well, you’ll have a lot of time to think about why you did what you did,” Alex said, scowling at her.

“Maybe,” she retorted. “Or maybe I’ll have less time than you think. You never know.”

He didn’t reply to that. Instead, he turned and walked away. Redheart could only chuckle again.

Neither of them had gotten what they wanted.

Three Alicorn mares sat in a room, a single bottle of wine sitting half-empty in front of them, each of them nursing a beautifully crafted glass. Celestia’s glass was already half-empty (though she would doubtless have said ‘half full’), where Galatea and Luna had barely touched theirs.

“So,” Luna began. “Just what is it that thou ‘watches’?”

Galatea tilted her head. “In what sense?”

“Thou claims to have been passively observing us for millennia,” Luna said, taking a sip of her wine. “What exactly is it that thou observes?”

“Ah,” Galatea said, nodding in comprehension. “Well, let us see. I observed the events leading up to the two of you becoming the diarchs. That was fascinating.” She paused. “I watched other events, shall we say.”

Luna snorted. “My fall. My… corruption. Thou need not be delicate with me, my skin is no so thin.”

“Very well,” Galatea said, nodding again. “Your fall, your corruption, your transformation into the false further-ascended, whatever you’d like to call it. The events surrounding those events. The battle between you two. It was concerning – there was a moment I feared you might overcome Celestia, and then I might have had to intercede.”

“How fortunate for you that you did not,” Luna said coldly.

“Indeed,” Galatea said, apparently without a trace of irony. “It would have ruined millennia of work, and poisoned the neutrality of the observation, if Celestia had known about me.”

“I can see why,” Celestia put in, speaking up for the first time since the dinner had started. She took a sip of her own wine. “After all: if you know you’re being watched, you do all sorts of things differently.”

“Quite,” Galatea said. She paused for a moment, a slight twinkle entering her eyes. “You would not have your century old collection of ‘Playcolt’ for a start, no doubt.”

Celestia snorted some of her wine, her eyes widening in surprise. “What?!”

“You used to send a runner to the printing press,” Galatea said evenly. “Now you have a subscription sent to your personal PO box that nopony’s supposed to know exists.”

“That,” Luna put in, her eyes round as saucers, “is horribly intrusive!”

“It is mine role,” Galatea said evenly, perhaps a bit too quickly. She blushed. “I have to be aware of even your thoughts. Failing the ability to read minds, and since it would be… discourteous to seek out your private journals, your reading material suggests much of your mindset.”

“Indeed,” Celestia said, smiling softly, her momentary shock forgotten. “And how much of our reading material have you seen?”

Galatea took another sip of her wine. “Issue seven hundred and fifty four is a favourite.”

“Ah, seven hundred and fifty four,” Celestia chuckled. “The one with the three page spread and the large -”

“If you both don’t mind,” Luna interjected, “I’m not favourably inclined towards feeling quite this nauseous before drinking at least eight bottles of wine.”

“Then perhaps we should drink eight bottles of wine, if that removes the limits of our discussion,” Galatea put in.

Celestia blinked. “You’re joking.”

“I do not ‘joke’,” Galatea said evenly, though there was an odd twinkle in her eye as she said it. “But if this is to be our first, and possibly last, dinner as sisters, I would say we should enjoy it. My understanding is that drinking facilitates that.”

“Would you look at that,” Luna said scathingly. “She isn’t a complete automaton after all.”

“Would that I were,” Galatea rejoined with a snort, finishing her glass with one smooth motion. “Believe me when I say, it might have made mine millennia of passive observance more tolerable.”

There was a pause.

“How?” Luna asked after a long moment, her eyes boring into Galatea.

“How what?” Galatea asked, not meeting Luna’s gaze.

Luna rolled her eyes. “Don’t play stupid. How did you do it? How did you stand nine millennia of solitude? How did you not go mad?”

Galatea turned her gaze on Luna. “You were alone on the moon for a single millennium. How did you survive that?”

Luna looked away, suddenly blushing. “I… do not wish to discuss it.”

Galatea nodded slowly. “You had it harder than I. I had mine purpose, you had nothing but the corrupting rage.” She took a deep breath. “And mine purpose was sometimes, it must be said, the anchor that kept me from drifting away into lonely insanity.”

To hear her speak so frankly made Luna feel a sudden wave of what might have been shame.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I did not think about how hard it would be for you.”

“No, you did not,” Galatea agreed, “but I forgive you that. Mine role is unique in all the history of our world.” She smiled. “And now it is over.”

“‘Over’ sounds so final,” Celestia said quietly, sipping her drink.

The morning brought no comfort, even as Alex pulled his shirt over his head, his nose flaring at the smell of some sort of fragrance. His entire wardrobe seemed fresh as the day it had been made.

“I, uh, think they cleaned your clothes overnight,” came Lyra’s voice from the door to his chamber. He looked at her, a smile on his face as she hastily put away her notebook. “Uh, sorry.”

“Making notes about how I wear this stuff?” he asked. At her widening eyes, he chuckled again. “You did that the first few days of our working together on my world too.” His smile faded. “She did.”

“It’s hard for you, isn’t it?” Lyra asked quietly, her expression softening into a sympathetic smile. “Being here, among ponies you know, and don’t.”

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Alex told her, shaking his head. He met Lyra’s eyes. “It’s going to be strange for everyone, seeing you again. Everyone and everypony.”

“I can’t begin to imagine,” Lyra said quietly. She sighed. “But I don’t…”

She trailed off awkwardly. Alex looked at her, a frown on his face.

“Don’t what?”

She swallowed. “I have to admit, I don’t know what I can do. I’m no Guard. I’ve never fought anyone before, except Redheart. And, well…” She chuckled awkwardly, but that died in her throat at Alex’s expression. “I just don’t know what good I can do.”

“Maybe it isn’t your job to do anything,” Alex suggested. “I mean, you’ve been a great help while I’ve been here. That’s more than enough in my book. Maybe you should just let Celestia and Luna – and Galatea, whoever she is – handle things.”

She shook her head. “No. No, that doesn’t feel right to me. It wouldn’t feel right if I do nothing while your world is under attack.”

“Then what are you going to do?” Alex asked, folding his arms.

“I… don’t know,” Lyra said after a moment, but she smiled. “But I think starting where I left off might help.”

It took Alex a moment to understand what she meant, and when he did, he nodded approvingly.

“If this all works out, I can have your – have her journals sent to you,” he said. “How long will it take you to go through them?”

“Depends on what she had to say,” Lyra said quietly.

Seeing Discord was a bit of a surprise for Alex, when he walked into th

“So,” Discord said, cracking his knuckles and throwing Galatea a sideways glance. “Figure this should work. It’s got enough energy in it to make an entire ocean of chocolate milk – for which, incidentally, you’re welcome,” he added with a pointed glance at Celestia. “And should, if Little Miss Secret Sister here’s any good at whatever she was doing, lead not far from where Colonel Reindeer -”

“Does he always come up with nicknames?” Reiner asked, raising an eyebrow.

Discord clicked his tongue. “Only for people I think need a stick or two taking out from unpleasant places, Colonel Rainman.” He sniffed, looking at Galatea. “So: whenever you’re ready, eh?”

Galatea sighed. “Firstly; Celestia, have you decided who is to go?”

Celestia nodded. “Colonel Reiner, I will be sending my sisters and Discord to represent us to your people. Luna is a skilled diplomat, and Galatea and Discord will be needed to open the way back.”

“That… makes sense,” Alex said, nodding slowly. “Princess Luna is well-regarded. Though there’s the question of whether my people will believe it’s really her.”

“Is there some password I might have to ease their fears?” Luna asked.

Alex looked thoughtful for a moment, and then beckoned her close. He whispered in her ear, too quietly for anyone else present to hear (although Discord cackled loudly). She scrunched her face in distaste, and then stepped back.

“I… can’t say I like the idea of saying that,” she said after a moment. “But if it’s the best password -”

“They will know your trustworthiness by it,” Alex said, giving her a small smile.

Luna sighed. “Very well, then.”

“Personally,” Discord said, snorting, “I am loving the dies of hearing you say that in a diplomatic meeting. So incongruous! So unlike you! So… chaotic!”

“Shut up, Discord,” Celestia said with a twinkle in her eye. “The time has come.”

“Ooh, so portentous,” Discord said, snapping his fingers.

There was a soft glow that seemed to emanate from nowhere at all, and then Galatea’s horn glowed. She closed her eyes, concentrating, and the glow solidified, becoming a silvery circle in the air. The circle seemed to grow, until finally it became large enough to encompass an Alicorn. It didn’t quite look like the one Alex had seen in his memories.

“Why does it look different?” he asked.

“To the one that sent you here?” Galatea asked, her horn’s glow fading away. She looked tired. “Different means of creation. The raw energy then was supplied by me. Now it comes from Discord.”

Discord gave an idle salute. “Happy to help.”

Alex nodded. “When you get there… just…” He sighed. “Tell them I’m okay. Cheerilee, Stephan, hell, even Durant.” He paused. “And good luck, Princess.”

“Thank you,” Luna said, sighing. She looked at Discord and Galatea. “Are we doing this, then?”

“Absolutely,” Discord said, winking.

And with that, he walked through with a jaunty swagger. Galatea rolled her eyes, before following. Luna gave Celestia a look, and the two of them exchanged a final smile. And then Luna, too, walked through the portal.

Alex let out a whistle. “Well. Now we wait.”

Luna blinked, the light from the portal having been so bright that she almost felt blinded. The light faded from her eyes, leaving a faint purple afterglow, and she blinked a few more times, trying to dispel the effect. After a moment, her vision cleared…

… and she found herself facing a giant, bipedal metallic figure.

“Alright,” it said, bringing one of its arms up and aiming it at her - was that a weapon? “How about you tell me who the fuck you are and why the fuck you’re here, madame?”

As with The Story of Sharon, this was me tapping away as a way of getting some mental exercise. It was nearly finished (sort of) anyway, so it might as well be one-hundred percent finished.

Again, this doesn’t herald a return proper to FimFic. But I hope you enjoy it in the meantime.

Cheers,
Jed.

Yes, I know, I said that these would be sporadic at best, but this was already sort of done and even if it hadn’t been, it was surprisingly easy to write.

Cheers,
Jed.

“For centuries, Alderaan stood as a beacon of hope in the Republic. But the Empire came, and with one savage strike, brought Alderaan to her knees.”
Jace Malcom, Star Wars: The Old Republic.

Well, Luna thought. This is a welcome.

The blasted city, ruined and decrepit, laden with rubble and wreckage, surrounded her almost as oppressively as the soldiers, all of them aiming those metallic weapons at her, all of them looking decidedly unhappy (even with the full-face armour they were wearing).

Maybe it was their aura, or maybe it was just the inevitable impression one always got from having weapons levelled squarely at one’s head.

Not necessarily a warm one, Luna mused, blinking once, but a welcome nonetheless.

The metallic construction staring her down was the real surprise. It reminded her vaguely of the machines of war she had heard rumours of the Kirin wielding: shaped vaguely like a human, but exaggerated in strange places, and with giant… muskets? Possibly repeaters? Whatever they were, they were at the end of its arms. She could also see a number of markings shaped like what she assumed were human skulls painted onto the otherwise bare metal.

All around this machine, she could see figures milling, bringing weapons that also looked like muskets up and aiming them at her, Galatea and Discord. Most were clad in grey, dull armour that covered their entire bodies, with full, featureless helmets that rendered them unnervingly faceless. But here and there she could see hints of personalisation - pink, blue, green designs scrawled on, graffiti here and there…

“Well, this is nice,” Discord said blandly, cutting through the tension of the moment with his trademark sardonic tone. He looked at Galatea. “These friends of yours, Galway Girl?”

Galatea did not reply: indeed, she did not even seem to acknowledge that Discord had spoken. Her expression was serene, almost beatific, as she regarded the humans and their machines with a practiced, analytical gaze. The fact that they were all most likely in danger from these humans did not seem to faze her in the slightest.

“Galatea?” Luna whispered. “If you have some trick up your sleeve, now would be a very good time to use it.”

Galatea still did not reply, at least for a moment. Instead, she gave a soft, knowing smile.

“Greetings, human,” she said, looking up at the machine. “Would it be possible for you to put us in contact with your superiors at your earliest convenience?”

The machine whirred once, the weapon-arm shifting ever so slightly. “And why the fuck should I do that, lady?”

“Because I am an Alicorn who is quite clearly not Queen Celestia,” Galatea replied evenly, spreading her smokey-grey wings out. “Mine name is Galatea. This,” she motioned with her wing to Discord, “is the Draconequus Discord. And this,” she finished, motioning to Luna, “is the Princess Luna of Equestria, who is known as an ally to your people.” She smiled. “Tell your superiors that we have come here. They will know who I am by now, and even if they do not, they will wish to speak with Luna.”

The machine kept whirring threateningly for a long moment, but eventually it lowered its arm, almost reluctantly.

“Alright,” it said, its tone sullen. “I’ll ask.”

Galatea smiled serenely, even as the machine turned and walked off, other troopers moving to take its place. Luna frowned at her.

“Will that work with them?” she asked, speaking under her breath.

“Work?” Galatea replied, with a knowing smirk. “Well, if the humans mine other self contacted are in any way reliable… yes. I believe it will. She and I worked a great deal of this out in our brief connection.”

“Reliable humans,” Discord said with a sniff. “I don’t think I fancy our chances.”

“And what do you know about humans?” Luna asked, scowling at him.

“Did a bit of multiverse-hopping in my younger days,” Discord replied. “Always ended up coming home again.”

“Of course you did, Chimera,” Galatea said calmly. Discord stuck his tongue out at her.

“One wonders why,” Luna added, frowning.

Discord blinked for a moment, as though he had never genuinely considered the question, and then he shrugged.

“Home is where the heart is,” was all he said.

“A pity,” Luna said with a scowl. “We could have all done without you being around to bother us.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Discord said, waving a claw at her. “You needed me to get here, and you’ll no doubt need me to get back.”

“Back where?” one of the humans asked in a feminine voice.

Discord and Luna looked at the figure: she was wearing a full suit of some sort of hard ceramic armour, painted in khaki colours. She shifted awkwardly under their gaze.

“Just a question,” she said uneasily. “I dunno who the fuck you people… pony… things are.”

Galatea let out a laugh. “Well, human, you will know. Very soon, in fact.”

Elsewhere.

Cold, bloodshot pink eyes opened, flashing with barely contained rage. A low hiss escaped an alabaster-furred mouth, perfect teeth grinding together in fury.

“Your Supreme Majesty?” a voice asked from somewhere, but the owner of those pink eyes did not answer.

You are returned, somehow, sisters? No… The eyes widened. No, this is some trick of the Fausticorn’s brood, something new?

“My Queen?” the voice cut in again.

The pink eyes blinked, and then Queen Celestia smiled beatifically at Twilight Sparkle, the mare staring at her with such loving, gentle concern that Celestia might almost have believed what she was looking at if she weren’t already well aware of the truth.

“Twilight Sparkle, oh faithful student,” she said sweetly, “I’ve become aware of an issue that needs addressing.”

“An issue, Your Majesty?” Twilight repeated. “What kind of issue?”

The Fausticorn’s bastard children, Queen Celestia’s mind echoed with the thoughts, and… and one of Kontagion’s lesser spawn. Discord! Oh, this is unexpected. She smiled, baring her teeth in a vicious grin. And yet… how much more fun it will be to lay them both low again...

“Trouble, my dear Twilight,” she said with a low chuckle. “Of the most entertaining kind. Prepare a scout craft and a platoon of our best – we have a visit to pay.”

“A visit, Your Majesty?” Twilight echoed, frowning. “I… don’t believe I understand.”

“A visit, yes,” Celestia said once more, her smile becoming a grin. “After all… that is the word one would use when going to see family, is it not?”

Lieutenant-Colonel Cheerilee’s office, New York City.

Cheerilee was not in a good mood. Having two men in robes barge into a secret meeting (one which she had taken great pains to arrange!) was already making her irritated, but the fact that they had insisted on speaking to her alone after their rather cryptic commentary was…

What even is a more vehement word for ‘irritating’? Cheerilee thought. She felt a wave of aggravation - ooh, that’s a word - at that thought, for she knew she had once known that kind of thing without having to think. Back when she had been a teacher, not an overgrown militiamare turned commanding officer.

Yes, she was definitely aggravated. And that had been before Jim’s explanation for what exactly had happened.

“So what you’re telling me,” Cheerilee said, trying (and failing) to keep the irritation from her voice, “is that Alex ended up… in Equestria. Another Equestria.”

“So Galatea intended,” Hiro Mifune cut in, his arms folded across his chest and his sword sheathed but still conspicuously present. He was, if Cheerilee was being honest, the only reason she was taking these ‘Mystics’ seriously at all. “Whether she succeeded, we cannot say, but we believe she did.”

“Another Alicorn…” came the voice of Dr Bowman. He looked bemused. “Well, that is a turn up for the books.”

“Is it true?” Cheerilee asked him.

He shrugged. “You’re asking the wrong Time Lord, Cheerilee. This…” He let out a sigh. “This iteration of your history is far different than the version I recall.”

Jim’s expression became one of bemusement. “You been cheatin’ with time, Doc?”

Bowman gave him a scowl. “Don’t call me that. And… well, only because I really, really don’t want a version of this timeline that’s finally not a complete steaming pile of rubbish to go down the toilet.” He shuddered. “Seen it happen far too many times. I thought Homestuck had a problem with doomed timelines…”

Cheerilee rolled her eyes. “Well, regardless.” She looked at Jim. “So this other Alicorn intended for Alex to go to some other Equestria and get… what? Reinforcements?”

“That’s a pretty clinical, military way of puttin’ it, but yeah,” Jim replied, putting his hands in his pockets and grinning. “He wanted to go get help, whatever help they could offer and sharpish. Or rather, Galatea wanted him to, and he must’ve agreed if he’s gone.”

Cheerilee scowled. “As opposed to being dead or ponified? You’re awfully optimistic considering that we don’t know what actually happened.”

“If the Colonel was dead or turned, the enemy would have made it clear,” Mifune pointed out.

Cheerilee sighed. The same sentiment had been echoed in the meeting, and she couldn’t deny the logic of it. Still…

There was a sudden knock at the door, and Cheerilee’s head jerked up.

“Come in,” she said.

A soldier entered: he was young, too young, and he was breathless, as though he had been running.

“Ma’am,” he said, taking a deep breath. “We’ve just had a report from Boston. There’s… ma’am, there’s…”

“Calm down, Corporal Boones,” Cheerilee said gently. “What is it?”

“Ma’am,” the soldier - Boones - said, “there’s supposedly an Alicorn claiming to be Princess Luna in Boston -”

To Cheerilee’s surprise, Bowman’s head jerked in the man’s direction at those words, and his eyes widened.

“What did you say?” he asked, jumping to his feet and walking right up to the man.

“I… I said that there’s an Alicorn claiming to be Princess Luna in Boston, sir,” Boones repeated. “She… she came with something called ‘Discord’, and what appears to be another Alicorn, not the Tyrant.”

“Galatea,” Mifune said quietly.

Bowman swallowed. “To borrow a phrase from my learned other self… great wickering stallions.”

“Do stallions ‘wicker’?” Jim asked, frowning. “What even is ‘wickering’?”

Cheerilee ignored both men. “Alright, Corporal. Get me on the horn to Major Bauer and Captain Gagnier. This sounds serious.”

Nothing had moved since Galatea’s request to the soldier, and yet the grey mare did not seem in the least bit concerned by the staticness of events. Luna had been surreptitiously observing events - the soldiers had milled somewhat, and some had relaxed incrementally, but she was under no illusions about what this was and how ready these warriors would be to engage them, if it came down to it.

“So I’m curious,” Luna said quietly to Galatea. “Do you know what… all this is?”

“Define ‘this’, sister,” Galatea replied nonchalantly.

Luna motioned to the machines and the soldiers. “The machines. The soldiers. Their weapons.”

“Ah,” Galatea said, shaking her head slowly. “Mine counterpart did not pass that information on to me except in cursory, passing detail.” She sniffed. “I suspect she did not care.”

“Why did she not?” Luna asked, scowling. “All this is pertinent, is it not? It would be most beneficial for us to know what we face, whom we face it alongside.”

Galatea shrugged. “I don’t know. Perhaps? I do not know what she wished to pass on – I sincerely doubt she intended to die, though she did not fear it. Mayhaps in surviving, she intended to pass on more knowledge to us.”

“Or maybe she was just dense,” Discord said blithely.

Galatea did not respond to that, though Luna saw her eyes harden a fraction.

“There is one question I feel the need to ask,” the lunar princess said after another moment. “The two of you communed… how?”

“How?” Galatea repeated. “That seems a rather odd question to ask now, of all times.”

“And yet,” Luna pointed out, “if such power is at your disposal -”

“Such power was at our disposal, mine and hers,” Galatea corrected. Her tone was almost casual, yet there was a swiftness to her reply that gave Luna pause. “I am hardly lacking for magical energy, but I do not have such power as a single mare. Indeed, together we barely achieved connection. It was a… laborious process, and much of it was done from her end using… whatever resources she may have had.”

“I see,” Luna said quietly. She paused, thinking over her next words for a moment. “I am… sorry for your loss.”

Galatea gave Luna a sidelong glance, but then merely smiled. “It is good of you to see it that way. I only fear we may not be able to -”

“Hey,” one of the soldiers said, speaking loudly over Galatea’s murmured words. “What’re you lot muttering about?”

“You,” Galatea retorted, giving him a wicked grin, “and how best to turn you into a toad.”

The soldier raised his weapon, but one of his colleagues pushed the barrel of the weapon down with a derisive snort.

“I don’t know how it works where you come from,” this soldier said easily, “but here, smart-mouthing people who have a gun to you is not a good idea. Especially if you’re an Alicorn and magic is involved.”

“Perhaps so,” Galatea replied, “but I am impatient. There is much work to be done, and the longer we wait here for your officers to decide how to proceed, the less time we have to combat the true enemy.” She smirked. “Besides, one has to amuse oneself somehow.”

“Oh, does one?” the soldier snorted. “How nice for one. Does one also have to use one’s pretentious language whilst one is at it?”

“Of course,” Galatea replied evenly. “It’s part of the appeal.”

The soldier snorted and stepped back, muttering something to his comrades.

“Y’know,” Discord said from near Luna, his arms folded, “I think I see his point about aggravating the people with weapons aimed at us.”

“We’re in no real danger, yet,” Galatea said dismissively, still infuriatingly calm. “These people are… well, twitchy, as well as being terrified and under immense stress. That being said…”

Her eyes drifted up to a nearby building, and she smiled.

“… they also know an opportunity when they see one,” she finished.

Durant Gagnier was having a downright awful day.

That wasn’t, in and of itself, all that meaningful. He had terrible days all the time. It was practically a given. But this was an entirely different kind of awful day.

First off, Alex Reiner was missing. If there was such a thing as the diametric opposite of “good”, that probably came close. Everyone knew Reiner was the force keeping the PHL a force in the war, as opposed to getting folded under shitheads like Gardner or dissolved into the greater UNAC, losing their unique structure (and unique toys, Durant added, his hand unconsciously going to the modded Seegert pistol he’d gotten from R&D).

Secondly, and rather more pertinently, was the arrival of three figures

Major Stephan Bauer of the Bundeswehr, blonde haired and clad in a suit of modified HB-X armour, was certainly taking no chances. He had sent his troops to various covering positions around the area, presumably so they could open fire on the two figures on command. They were currently a few storeys up, looking at their targets from the window. Durant had left his mech downstairs, under guard.

Luna looked exactly like he had heard her described by ponies before: blue, regal, smaller than Celestia, yet possessed of her own, quiet, dignity. He had only seen her on television a couple of times. Discord… well, he couldn't help but think ‘what the fuck is that thing’ when he saw him, but he restrained himself.

And then there was the third one. The mare who was clearly an Alicorn, yet neither of the established ones. Her grey/black colour scheme was subtler than Luna’s, almost as though it were meant to be imperceptible. Either Queen Celestia had undergone a serious dye-job… or something else was at play.

Durant took a cigarette from his belt pocket. It was a battered, bent thing, but it still had nicotine in it. He lit it and took a drag, ignoring the glares from some of the snipers around him.

“Right,” Bauer said, walking up to him, arms folded over his chest. He looked thoughtful.

“So what’s the plan, Stephan?” Durant asked.

“I’ve been on the horn to command,” Bauer replied gravely. “We’re going to meet them.”

“You think that's wise?” Durant asked.

“Cheerilee does,” Bauer said. “And she’s acting on advice from Hiro.”

“Merde,” Durant swore, scowling. “He’s still running about?! I’d have thought he’d get himself killed messing with that mystic shit he keeps fucking about with.”

“Apparently not,” Bauer said evenly.

“Sir?” a very (unpleasantly) familiar voice crackled in Durant’s earpiece on the UNAC frequency. “Permission to speak freely?”

Bauer rolled his eyes. “Permission granted, Kraber.”

“Speaking to them is a terrible fokking idea.”

“There’s far more to this than meets the eye,” Bauer said tiredly. “I’m pretty sure they’d have already attacked if they were going to.”

“Uh huh,” Durant said, unconvinced. “You sure about that, mon ami?”

“Think about it, Durant,” Bauer said. “Everything we know about Alicorns says they could level this place in the time it takes to say ‘level this place’. Double for Discord. Between the three of them, we’d be fucked eight ways from Sunday.”

“If you say so,” Durant murmured. “But don’t forget, they’re also intelligent. We’re not dealing with a Newfoal officer here. They’ll know there's more than one way to skin a cat.”

“He’s right, sir,” Kraber added. “This could be a trap.”

“If they want to skin me, then good luck to them,” Bauer said with a tired smile. “Command's ready to drop missiles on our transponders the minute they need to.”

Durant sighed. “How the fuck did I know you were going to say that, Stephan?”

Bauer smirked. “Come on, old friend, if you can keep up.”

And with that, he put on his helmet and leapt out of the window. Durant raised an eyebrow.

“Merde,” he swore again. “I fucking hate it when he does that.”

He paused only a moment, before turning and heading down the stairs, dropping his cigarette as he did so.

This is going to be all sorts of shit, he thought.

“Movement,” Discord whispered.

It was true. Two figures were approaching their position: one, a human in sturdy-looking armour far more reminiscent of plate armour than anything the other humans had worn. At his side was girt a longsword of some sort, and he had a weapon - a pistol? - strapped to his hip.

The other figure was the machine from earlier - Luna could recognise the skull-markings that adorned its chassis. The human held up a hand, and the construct stopped, bringing its weapons up to bear on Luna and the others. The human lowered his hand.

“Hello,” the human said, his voice tinged with a metallic timbre. “I am Major Stephan Bauer of the UNAC Knights.”

Knights? Luna thought.

Bauer motioned to the machine, continuing his introductions. “That there is Captain Durant Gagnier, mecha specialist.”

The machine didn’t reply, except to slightly raise its weapons, focusing them right at Luna’s head. She blinked at it.

“My name is Princess Luna, Diarch of Equestria, Caretaker of the Moon and Night skies,” she said slowly. She moved a hoof to Discord. “This is Discord. You may know him as a spirit of chaos.”

“I’ve heard the reputation,” Bauer said evenly. “Quite different seeing it in the flesh, of course.”

“Always is, Major Malfunction,” Discord said with a small, cocky smirk.

Bauer didn’t respond to that. He looked at Galatea. “And you must be Galatea.”

Galatea did not seem surprised to hear her name come from the human. Luna wished she could share that disaffectedness.

“You know her?” Discord asked. He looked offended.

“Some friends of mine spoke of her,” Bauer replied. “They said something about you knowing where Colonel Andrew Reiner is.”

“Alexander Reiner,” Galatea corrected with a snort. “And a childish effort to catch us out is precisely that - childish. Do your superiors wish you to waste our time, human, or is that your discretion?”

Bauer didn’t respond for a moment. Suddenly, his hand went to the hilt of his sword and he drew it, pointing it right at Galatea. The edges of the blade lit up with glowing blue energy, and Luna could feel the magic radiating from it. She stepped back, and Discord - a set of plate armour materialising around his body and a shield appearing out of thin air in his hand - teleported himself a good three metres from the Major, crouching defensively.

Galatea only cocked her head. “Ah, the classic response to anger, frustration and an attitude you disagree with.”

“We've been fighting this war for a long time, ma’am,” Bauer replied, not lowering his sword. “We’re not exactly in a trusting mood here. The superior tone doesn’t help.”

“Nor does delaying me when I came here to help your kind defeat the aberration that is mine alternate sister,” Galatea replied. Her tone remained studiously neutral, yet Luna thought she could detect a hint of irritation. “I have information for your leaders. This distraction from mine task is intolerable.”

“Information, huh?” Bauer said, apparently ignoring her words. “Okay, how about you start by telling me everything about Alex. Where he is, what happened to him. And I mean all of it.” He raised the sword a fraction higher. “Don't leave out any details, or I get a lot less patient and understanding.”

Galatea tilted her head further. “And this is a conversation you wish to hold here?”

“We’re surrounded by my men, with enough guns and experimental anti-thaumic ammo trained on you to obliterate you where you stand,” Bauer replied. “Much safer than any of our bases. At least, from my perspective.”

Galatea paused as if to reply, but then closed her mouth, her eyes widening almost incrementally.

“Galatea, perhaps we should…” Luna began, but she suddenly trailed off, her eyes slowly widening, a frown slowly deepening in her face.

Something was coming. Something powerful. Something… familiar.

Even as she realised it, Discord’s ears flattened to the sides of his head, his eyes widening.

Finally, Galatea spoke.

“Oh no.”

She suddenly stared to the south, eyes focused on something only she could see. Discord was looking in the same direction, his face angry, but his eyes full of what could only be called fear. Luna followed their gazes, already knowing what she would see.

“What?” Bauer asked, but none of them could reply. How could these humans possibly understand, thaumically stunted as they obviously were?

“Major, Captain Gagnier, you need to leave,” Luna said, her wings flaring open and her horn glowing. “Get your men out of here, now.”

“The fuck, Stephan?” Gagnier said from behind Bauer. “What are they -?!”

Bauer held up a hand. “Durant, pull out! Everyone, do the same! Now!”

“Why? What in the hell is going on?” Gagnier yelled from his machine.

“Her,” Galatea whispered, speaking before Luna could. She had a look of cold resignation on his face. “She's coming.”

Bauer's eyes shot wide open. “You mean -“

Before he could finish his sentence, an explosive force of air rippled the atmosphere. The surviving glass windows of the various buildings around them shattered instantly, and the shockwave weakened several buildings’ walls.

Luna flared her wings, her horn glowing, but Galatea beat her to it, her horn flashing with light as a pale, semi-transparent dome appeared, surrounding her, Luna, Discord and the two human officers. The warriors further away from them were not so lucky, the concussive force blasting many of them away, smashing their frail forms into buildings and rubble like so many toy soldiers. Vehicles closest to the central point of the magical disturbance were lifted and thrown into the buildings like discarded rubbish.

And then, there she was.

Tall, regal, resplendent. White wings flared out in challenge, bloodshot eyes the only sign of anything amiss with her as they flared at the assembled group. In every way, she was a dark mirror of Luna’s beloved sister.

“Hello Luna, Discord,” Queen Celestia said. “And you.” She narrowed her eyes at Galatea, who snorted. “Have you come to join my Perfection? Or do I have to destroy you all over again?”

Oh, would you look at that. I’m back.

So, this is obviously different from the work the “crew” did. I don’t think it really needs explaining much, except that I always liked the appearance by Queen Celestia in the original Spectrum, and thought it was a moment worth preserving and reworking for this version (and for 2.0, but that wasn’t really my call by the time they got there, so 🤷🏻‍♂️). I also really, really wanted Galatea at this scene...

... for reasons that will become quite clear.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.
Frank Herbert, Dune.

Checkpoint Delta. November 4th, 2024.

Five minutes earlier.

Emma Taylor leant against the wall of the pre-fab, frowning behind her helmet, watching her Sergeant having an argument. Her S-HV Penetrator was slung over her shoulder, and her hands itched to bring it out.

“Say again, Checkpoint Bravo?” David Elliot said into his comm. “What’s this I’m hearing about Princess Luna and another Alicorn, over?”

None of the others looked happy about this: not Errant Flight, as he pretended to be reading a magazine with a pony posing suggestively on the front, nor Sam Lake, who was scowling, his helmet in his hands.

“This sounds like just the sort of crazy shit Kraber would get involved with,” True Grit said under his breath.

Steady Hoof nodded, tapping his hoof and looking pointedly around.

“Yeah, he’s probably off getting himself involved,” Grit said, nodding in turn, a grim smile moving onto his face.

“I don’t like the way this conversation sounds,” Errant Flight muttered.

“Shut up!” Elliot snapped at them. He sighed, before turning back to his comm. “Sorry, sir, not you. My team are being loud.”

“Oops,” Grit murmured.

Only John Constantine was silent. He had his arms folded as he watched David’s conversation, an inscrutable expression on his face. Emma had to wonder just what it was he knew that made him so nonchalant.

After a moment, Elliot sighed, before tapping his comm, scowling. He put his helmet on, motioning for Sam to do the same.

“Well?” Errant Flight said. “What’s up? What’s this about Luna and another Alicorn?”

“Gagnier’s team at Checkpoint Bravo have encountered a… well, I don’t bloody know what the hell you’d call it,” Elliot replied, folding his arms. “But the word is, yup, there is in fact an unknown Alicorn, another Alicorn that looks exactly like Princess Luna, and a thing we’re being told is – a discord?”

“Discord?” Grit repeated. “Wait, the Discord?”

“What the hell’s Discord?” Sam asked.

“A Draconequus,” Errant Flight said, Steady Hoof nodding vehemently. “He’s part of our history – and he… well, he supposedly had a reign of terror a millennia or two ago, but in recent history, Queen Celestia supposedly destroyed him.”

“So, a petrified mare, a dead Draconequus, and an impossibility,” Constantine put in, straightening up, a smirk on his face. “Today’s turning into one of those ones, innit?”

“You make it sound like this sort of thing happens a lot,” Emma said quietly.

“Weird stuff in general happens a lot,” Constantine said. “This ain’t like your old-fashioned wars.” He waved his hands. “S’all magic and monsters, love.”

“Any word on our reinforcements, Dave?” Sam asked.

“Kraber’s unit got held up en route to Checkpoint Delta, somewhere near Checkpoint Sigma,” Elliot replied, shaking his head. “Apparently there’s some HLF troops that just got brought in by HLS Challenger that’re being deployed through the city, but as usual, Command is being cagey about it and pretending they don’t exist as best they can.”

“Lyra’s mane, what’s with the bloody politics?” True Grit swore, scowling. “I’d take the bloody EHS if it meant we had more sodding guns on standby.”

“Things must be bad if we’re reminiscing about them,” Sam said quietly.

There was a momentary silence, and Emma found herself wondering about what these troops had been through.

Is this why I was meant to be here? she wondered. Because this unit has a habit of getting involved in these weird things?

That wasn’t exactly a comforting thought. But then, the whole feeling of needing to be somewhere, being meant to be somewhere, wasn’t exactly comforting either, especially when she didn’t know where it came from.

“But whether we get troops or not,” Elliot continued, “we’ve got to be ready for anything. Princess Luna being back? A new Alicorn?” He shook his head. “That’s a sign of interesting times.”

“And there’s always that old Chinese curse,” Constantine said nonchalantly, looking at his nails.

Elliot turned his head towards Constantine. “Did you know about this, John?”

“Me? Nah,” Constantine said, shaking his head. He was still smirking, though, which made his dismissal of the idea somewhat less than convincing.

“John,” Sam cut in, “if you know something about this, about any of this -”

“The Mystics I knew talked sometimes about having a powerful magical backer,” Constantine said, giving Sam a more genuine smile. “I know fuck all about it apart from that – might have been this mystery Alicorn, or Discord, or this might be something else.”

Emma frowned behind her helmet. “That’s not really that reassuring, Mr Constantine.”

“If the Mystics were working with an Alicorn, why wouldn’t they tell us?” Errant Flight asked.

“The Mystics have their own mission,” Elliot said quietly. “They’ve proved that before – Fairport, Hadley’s Hope, all that stuff with Cairn and Sharon…” He trailed off, scowling at Constantine. “We’ve trusted you for years, John. Tell me this isn’t something that’ll fuck us up the arse, and I’ll believe you.”

“I don’t know enough to say,” Constantine replied, “but the Mystics are on our side of the war, always have been. If this is something they’ve been doing -”

There was a blare of static from all the comms at once. Elliot flinched, holding a hand up to his helmet, even as Sam and Emma did the same.

What the hell? Emma thought, tapping her helmet.

“The hell is that?!” Sam yelled, echoing her thoughts. “Some sort of interference?!”

Elliot lowered his arms, before slinging his VK-12 Vollmer Shotgun from his shoulders and racking it.

“Positions!” he said, moving to one of the sandbag emplacements and taking aim down the street.

At once, Errant Flight moved to his own emplacement, where a modified turret waited. Sam Lake moved next to him, aiming his G2A2 rifle, and Emma unslung her Penetrator, unlocking the safety and bringing it up.

“What’re we waiting for?” True Grit asked quietly. He had his horn glowing, the soft green of his magic field enveloping Steady Hoof’s P220a minigun.

“Like Sam said,” Elliot said shortly. “Interference. That might be the Empire making its move.” He moved one hand slowly up to his helmet, tapping his comm. “This is Checkpoint Delta to command, come in please.”

There was a pause, some static, but no reply. Elliot let out a muttered curse under his breath that made Emma blush.

“I say again,” he continued through gritted teeth. “Checkpoint Delta to command, come in please. Over.”

The static continued on their channel for a long moment, before finally a voice came through – none Emma recognised, but the identity of the voice became irrelevant ten seconds after it started speaking.

“This is Command to all units,” it said, sounding calm but strained. “Boston has Code Royal. I say again. Code Royal. Stand by for orders, hold your checkpoints. Command out.”

There was a pause as this registered. Emma almost dropped her Penetrator from shock, but forced herself to grip it tighter instead, calming herself as best she could. None of the others spoke, but none of them had to. She could see the same shock on their faces… and the same fear.

Code Royal, she thought. Queen Celestia.

Checkpoint Bravo.

“So,” Queen Celestia said, looking from one to the other. “Cat got your tongue?”

Galatea’s shield had not faltered, and she kept herself in a ready stance as the alabaster Alicorn stood before them. Luna steadied herself, adjusting her own stance in readiness. She noted that Stephan Bauer had drawn his sword, clicking some sort of switch on it. It lit up with powerful, blazing energy. Behind him, Durant Gagnier’s machine aimed both its weapons at Celestia, and Discord…

… Discord looked furious. His eyes were wide, and both his paw and claw were clenched into fists, so tightly that Luna could swear droplets of blood were coming from his claw.

“Oh, come now,” Queen Celestia said, smiling slowly. “I am your greatest enemy -” and here she looked at Bauer and Gagnier. “Surely you must have something to say to me.”

“Only that if this fucking shield wasn’t in the way I’d fuck your face, bitch,” Gagnier’s voice came from his machine. He raised his weapons for emphasis. “I got half a million bullets with your name on them.”

“It must have taken a very long time to carve them all,” Queen Celestia said, still smiling. “I congratulate you on your perseverance.”

“Queen Celestia,” Bauer said, before Gagnier could do anything else, “I am authorised by the UNAC and PHL to accept your surrender.”

At this, the Queen let out a melodious laugh.

“Is that what they call ‘gallows humour’?” she asked. “It does sound like it. Or perhaps it is bravado?” Her laugh subsided, but she was still smiling. “But I am not here to surrender, and let us both be honest, you know that I am here, if anything, to accept yours. I am more than happy to convey you to one of our local ponification checkpoints.” She clicked her tongue. “Nowhere near as clean as a Bureau, but we must make do in difficult times.”

“I’d rather die,” Bauer said at once.

The Queen’s face fell into a bored expression. “Of course. That does seem to be the usual answer from your people.” She sighed. “I suppose I can accommodate that, if you really want, but I hardly ever get a challenge from your kind -”

Even as she said it, Discord moved. In a flash, he had left the protection of Galatea’s shield, a giant warhammer appearing in his mismatched hands. With a roar of rage so guttural and furious that Luna could scarcely believe it came from him, he swung it downwards at the Queen’s head – only for it to bounce off a sudden, skintight golden shield that surrounded her body.

Blinking, he floated backwards for a moment in shock, even as Celestia’s head turned to look at him, a smirk on her face.

“Ah, hello, Discord,” she said. “Nice to see you’ve not changed.”

Her horn flashed, and Discord was propelled backwards, smashing through ruined cars and walls and disappearing beyond view.

“Stay within the shield,” Galatea murmured, quietly enough that only Luna and Bauer could hear, “until I give you the sign.”

“How will we know what that is?” Bauer hissed back, but she didn’t answer, and then Celestia was looking at them again.

“So,” she said, “to return to the business at hand.” She looked at Luna. “Which in this case would appear to be the return of my sisters.”

“Sisters?” Bauer repeated, looking at Galatea, who still said nothing.

“It’s, admittedly, very surprising to see you both,” Celestia continued, almost nonchalantly. “Most especially you Luna, since I seem to recall saying good bye to your statue in the palace grounds right before I left Canterlot.”

Luna growled.

“But regardless of the how, it is still so wonderful to see you looking so… animated, again,” the Queen continued, a wolfish grin breaking out across her lips. “One wonders, however… are you going to continue the streak of rebelliousness that got you petrified, or have you come here to turn over a new leaf?”

Luna looked at Galatea, who looked back at her. There was a momentary pause, and then Galatea smiled.

Suddenly, the shield she had put up flashed, and Bauer held up a hand, blocking the light from his view. Luna grinned, her wings spreading as she flew upward. Queen Celestia flinched, her expression becoming one of annoyance as she moved a wing to shield her own eyes.

“Oh, come on,” she said. “Is that really all you can do?”

The light faded and she lowered the wing, looking up at Luna, who was hovering in front of her.

“I think I will take a leaf from Alexander Reiner’s book,” Luna said, her wings flaring outward. “And in his words – ‘Queen Celestia can go fuck herself’!”

Her horn flared with power, and a single bolt of magic lashed out, smashing into Celestia, who was taken by surprise by the force of it. She flew through the air for a moment, before stopping dead, her wings spread outward to stabilise her. She lowered her head, glaring at Luna and Galatea.

“Fine,” she said. “So you have chosen death, have you? That is fine by -”

There was a sound like a machine whirring, and a hail of small projectiles flew past Luna and Galatea, smashing into Queen Celestia with enough force to blow her backwards. She landed on the ground in a heap, the projectiles continuing to smash into her for a moment, before suddenly another golden shield appeared, this time in front of her. She looked up, one eye a bloody ruin, her wings dripping with blood, and a snarl on her face.

Durant Gagnier’s machine was aiming both weapons at her.

“Like I said, madame,” his voice spoke, echoing out. “Without that shield, I would fuck your face.” There was an amused snort from the machine. “Your face looks pretty fucked to me.”

“That… vile word…” Celestia wheezed, slowly standing up, “is your colloquialism for the act of sexual intercourse, correct?” She chuckled. “Alas, monsieur… it would seem you are impotent.”

Her wings flared out, the ragged holes Gagnier’s bullets had torn disappearing. Her destroyed eye glowed, before the glow faded, revealing a perfect pink eyeball in place of the bloodied socket.

“So,” the Queen said, “as nice as this has been so far…”

Her horn glowed, and before Gagnier or Galatea could react, another flash of light shot out, a ball of energy smashing into Gagnier’s machine and blasting it backwards a dozen or more metres into the wall of a building… and then through the wall. Dust and debris flew everywhere, and a dread silence fell for a moment.

“Aurevoir, monsieur,” Celestia said with a mocking curtsy.

Growling, Luna summoned a ball of destructive force, the blue magic crackling as she sent it hurtling towards her corrupted sister. Queen Celestia’s horn flared, another golden spell appearing and smashing into Luna’s magic. There was a bright flash, and then an explosion that sent debris flying everywhere. Bauer ducked behind what scant cover he could find. All three Alicorns raised shields as the city’s already battered infrastructure began crumbling under the power of the two spells colliding.

And then the magic dissipated, leaving Celestia and Luna alone. Of Galatea, there was no sign.

“Your allies seem to have abandoned you, Little Moon,” Queen Celestia said, letting out a breath. “So sad. But then, you’re used to loneliness, aren’t you? This can’t be much different than a millennia on the moon.”

“Your mockery won’t work on me,” Luna retorted, her horn already glowing. “I don’t know what madness possessed you in this place, but I swear, I will end that madness, and you.”

“Funny,” Celestia replied, still smiling. “You said the same thing before.” She let out a small, malicious chuckle. “It’s funny how similar you are to my real sister. Wherever mother dearest’s watchmare sent that accursed little ape, Reiner, it can’t have been that far in the multiversal scale of things.”

At Luna’s stricken expression, Queen Celestia laughed.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you expect that I did not know?” she asked. “Please. I sent one of my soldiers after that accursed little ape. I know he was sent to another Equestria to get ‘help’.” She raised a wing and shook the top mockingly at Luna. “Tut tut, Little Moon. I’m no fool, after all. You should have known that.”

Luna said nothing, but adjusted her stance, thinking through her options.

Where is Galatea? she thought. She could tell this was not a fight she could win alone.

“Well, Little Moon, as fun as this has been,” Celestia continued, looking at the tips of her wing feathers idly, “I have been thinking about getting a matching statue for the sister I have standing about in the palace gardens.”

She truly is insane, Luna thought.

The Queen grinned, a vile leer that seemed almost too wide. “Strike a really good pose for me, Little Moon.”

Her horn glowed, and Luna gritted her teeth, hoping that she could withstand this assault -

Only for a figure to come hurtling out of nowhere, swinging a hammer and sending the Queen flying through the air and into a building's wall, where she disappeared into a ragged hole in the masonry.

Discord, breathing heavily, blood streaming from one injured ear, was scowling at the direction the Queen had gone.

“Never… assume… I’m out for the count…” he wheezed. Despite his wounds, he gave a cackle. “I would have thought… you knew this about me, Celly!”

He cackled for a moment longer, but then his laughter died on his lips as the building he had knocked Celestia into exploded. A golden beam of energy lashed out towards him like an arrow. He disappeared in a flash, the beam passing through the space he had just occupied and obliterating one of the buildings opposite. He reappeared next to Luna, breathing heavily.

“Where in all the hells is Galway Girl?!” he hissed.

“I don’t know,” Luna said quietly. “But without her, we must hold the line.”

“If you say so,” Discord said, holding out his paw. The warhammer he had summoned before reappeared, this time covered in coruscating energy. “Just so you know, though, this is a terrible idea.”

“I know,” Luna said, steeling herself as Celestia, encased in light, emerged from the ruins of the destroyed building. “But we have no choice, now.”

Bauer crawled out from under the ruin of one of the many cars lying about the battlefield, grimacing. His sword was nearby, the weapon looking scuffed but otherwise intact.

Probably cracked a rib, he thought. Fucking great.

He hadn’t expected this. Fuck, but he really hadn’t expected this. He had thought it would be difficult, fighting Queen Celestia. How could he not? He’d seen anomalous Newfoals, he’d seen regular Unicorns in action, he’d even seen the Element Bearers in action. But this…

We are so over our damn heads.

“This is Bauer to all units,” he said, “reporting Code Royal still active. Any units, acknowledge.”

“Sir, this is Kraber,” came the familiar voice of the Afrikaner. “I diverted my squad from Checkpoint Delta, we’re heading for your position now.”

“It won’t be enough,” Bauer said, wincing. “She’s… it’s insane.”

He turned his head, watching the Queen as she fought Luna and Discord. His eyes widened – Discord had swung his hammer again, and she was just blocking it with magic, not even really moving. Luna was throwing spells as well, but every spell was deflected by a shimmering golden shield.

“Kraber,” Bauer whispered, “please for the love of Gott in himmel, tell me you have your minigun with you.”

“Wouldn’t be fokkin’ parted with it, sir,” Kraber replied, sounding eager. “What’s the call?”

“We… we need to find an opening,” Bauer said. “Try and… try and get a shot in with the anti-Alicorn rounds.”

“Understood,” Kraber said, still sounding excited. “Hey, Major – we’re going to fokkin’ nail the bitch to the wall today.”

“Hope you’re right, Kraber,” Bauer said quietly, his hand finding the hilt of his sword and activating it again. “I’m going to try and intervene in the fight.”

“What fight, sir?” Kraber asked, sounding confused.

Bauer gave a grim, mirthless laugh. “The fight of the century, Kraber. Bauer out.”

He lowered his sword – Discord was still swinging his hammer, and Luna’s horn, glowing, had summoned a glowing blue blade of magic that she was now slashing at Celestia. The Queen was finally being pushed back, her shields still blocking strike after strike, that smile still on her face.

“Verdammt noch mal,” Bauer swore. He looked around, trying to see the best angle of approach, when his comms crackled.

“Did somebody get ze name of zat putain…” a voice said.

“Durant?” Bauer said, tapping his comms. “You alive?”

“Mech’s in self-repair mode,” Gagnier’s voice said, “but yes, I’m alive. For a given value. Merde, that bitch packs a punch.”

“Ja,” Bauer replied. “I think that’s probably something we shouldn’t be surprised by. Where are you?”

“In one of the buildings, ground floor, looking at…” Gagnier’s voice trailed off. “Forgive me for sounding like a cliche, but zut alors, have you seen this?”

Bauer looked at the fighting Alicorns (and – Draconequis? Draconekus? How did you spell that?), and let out a short laugh. “Ja, I’ve seen it. Kind of wish I hadn’t. Kind of really wish I hadn’t.”

“Starting to think maybe you and I should go in ze other direction, mon ami,” Gagnier said quietly.

Bauer chuckled to himself: Gagnier’s English was normally good enough that his accent didn’t slip, but under stress, his ‘ze’s came out in full force.

“Starting to think you’re right,” he said, “but we’ve got a job to do. How long ‘til your mech’s self-repair finishes?”

“Hang on,” Gagnier said. There was a pause, presumably as he checked his mech. “She’s on eighty two percent. But against the bitch, I don’t see ‘er doing that well. She just shrugged it off, before.”

“I know,” Bauer said, his tone resigned, “but we can’t just sit here.”

“Stephan, maybe that’s all we can do,” Gagnier countered. “Looks like Luna and Discord are barely doing that well.”

That much was true. Even as Bauer watched, Discord had apparently been blasted away: the Dracon… he was lying on the ground, stirring feebly, injured. Luna was alone against the Queen, and had summoned a second blade, both of which were spinning and twirling, hitting out at the alabaster Alicorn almost faster than Bauer could see. And yet her shields held, and though she was still backing gently away, giving ground, she had yet to drop her smirk.

“Alright,” Bauer said. “I’m going to see if I can help Discord. I need you to get on the horn, see if you can do good anywhere else.”

“Why?” Gagnier asked.

“Because I get the feeling this isn’t all we’re getting today,” Bauer said grimly, gripping the hilt of his sword tighter. “Just -”

Another crackle of static came through his comm, and he winced.

“This is Checkpoint Upsilon!” a nervy man’s voice came through. “Hostiles inbound! I say again, we are under attack!”

“Checkpoint Gamma, contacts!” another voice called.

“Verdammt,” Bauer muttered. “Gagnier -”

“I’m going,” he said. “But you realise we don’t have enough people.”

“I know,” Bauer said. “Get going. Bauer out.”

He stood, before crouch-walking over to where Discord lay, being careful to stay as low as he could. Celestia and Luna’s fight – if it was really a fight and not just Celestia humouring her sister’s attacks – was far enough away that he didn’t feel immediately threatened, but that was no reason to take chances.

“All units, be advised!” the comms crackled. “Imperial troops are on the ground. I say again, Imperial troops are on the ground!”

Emma kept her grip on her Penetrator, and double checked the safety. There was, of course, no reason to double check the safety, but it was worth it if it helped with her nerves. The others seemed just as nervous, apart from John Constantine, who had – at Elliot’s ‘suggestion’ – gone to hide himself in a box room in the pre-fab.

“How many combat ops have you done, Operative?” True Grit asked quietly from next to her.

“Um…” Emma replied. “Thirteen simulations, one post-combat cleanup, and I was present for the last Fairport skirmish.”

“Right,” Grit said, nodding. Emma didn’t look at him, but she could guess his expression was a little dubious. “This’ll be… a bit worse than that.”

“You’ll be fine, Operative,” Elliot cut in. “Just stick with us and you’ll get through this.”

“Yes, sir,” Emma said, nodding reflexively.

There was nothing coming down their street, at least not yet, but she knew that stuff had to be coming soon: the enemy’s positions were largely contained on the other side of the Harvard bridge, but if they overran Checkpoint Theta on the bridge then it was a clean sweep for them to attack Beacon Street Station, as well as Checkpoint Delta.

“Our fallback position is Fenway,” Elliot said after a moment, “but we shouldn’t need it unless Theta is overrun.”

“Should we… should we check on Theta?” Sam asked.

Elliot didn’t say anything for a moment, before he shook his head. “We’ll hear from command if -”

“All units, Checkpoint Theta is breached!” the voice of Command came through, sounding panicked. “Say again, Theta is breached!”

“Ah,” Sam said quietly. “They’re playing our song.”

Emma took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but before anyone could say anything else, another voice came through – female and British. Emma could have sworn she had heard it before.

“UNAC Command, this is Odinson Zero – we’ve troops bottlenecking the assault: some spillover is heading Checkpoint Delta’s way, but we’re sending support.”

“Who is that?” Command’s operator asked. “We don’t have you on our books.”

“Just trust me,” ‘Odinson Zero’ said. “We’re inbound now. ETA to Delta five minutes.”

“I…” The poor operator didn’t sound too happy, bless her. “Checkpoint Delta, are you receiving?”

Elliot let out a laugh. “Command, this is Checkpoint Delta, we’ll welcome any help we can get.”

It was a moment before the operator replied. “… understood. Be careful, Delta. Command out.”

“Who’s ‘Odinson Zero’?” Emma asked quietly.

“That’s Sam Yarrow’s callsign, HLF unit nought-nought-three,” True Grit replied. Something in his voice didn’t sound entirely enthusiastic. “We’ve… got history with her.”

“You mean we got her dad killed,” Errant Flight said dolefully.

Emma blinked. Sam Yarrow? But she…

“Head’s up!” Elliot snapped. “Incoming!”

Sure enough, at the end of the street, there was definitely movement. A portable shield had been thrown up by one of their specialists, covering the positioning of a handful of Unicorn marksponies. Emma counted at least thirty.

“Humans!” one of them called out, her voice magically amplified. “This is your only warning! Surrender to your salvation, or we will regretfully terminate you!”

Wait, I know that voice, don’t I? Emma thought, frowning.

“‘Regretfully terminate’, huh?” Sam said quietly. “Is that their term for it, now?”

Elliot growled. “If we had a laser, we could break that fucking shield, get the drop on them.”

Emma took a breath. “We might not have a laser, sir, but I can try the Penetrator.

“Those are high-power rounds,” Sam said, “but not shieldbreakers.”

Emma pulled the clip from her weapon, and loaded in a different one, smirking beneath her helmet.

“These are,” she said. “Thaumic energy shot – minute amounts of crystal baked into the pins.”

“You have twenty seconds!” the voice across the way called.

Elliot growled. “Do it.” Emma nodded, taking aim, even as Elliot turned to Grit and Steady Hoof. “If it breaks, fire. Everything we’ve got.”

Steady Hoof nodded, tapping his hoof against the ground with a grim expression.

Emma narrowed her eyes at the shield, trying to pick the best spot.

When breaking a Unicorn shield, look for the shatterpoint, one of her instructors had told her once. They will always have a point where the strain is worst for them.

“Ten seconds, humans!” the voice called from the Imp position.

There, Emma thought, and her finger squeezed the trigger. A hail of projectiles lashed out, smashing into the shield. The disruptive effects triggered a breakdown in the shield, the thing fizzling out in a flash.

“Attack!” the voice from before bellowed.

“Fire!” Elliot yelled at the same time, and Grit and Hoof’s P220a let rip, the rotary minigun flaring with light as high-power rounds lashed across the street, smashing into a handful of the enemy’s troops. Blood spurted from their wounds and they dropped like stones.

At the same time, a hail of spells flew their way. One impacted near Elliot’s hand, and he ducked behind cover. Emma blinked, watching the point of impact turn from sandbag to a scorched, ashy hole. She fired her Penetrator, the pin smashing into another of the ponies and throwing him backwards, before pinning him to a wall where he hung, limply.

“Grit, can you do a shield?!” Elliot yelled.

“Too busy steadying the minigun!” Grit replied. His horn was glowing green, the field of magic still holding onto Hoof’s minigun, keeping the recoil from getting too bad.

Elliot cursed, before grabbing a grenade.

“Frag out!” he yelled, throwing it down the street, where it landed among the ponies. Elliot ducked his head again, and Emma followed suit.

There was a deafening roar of an explosion. After a moment, Emma popped her head up to see the result… and her heart sank into her toes.

A purple shield was up, protecting the majority of the Imperial troops from the grenade’s force. One soldier had apparently been caugh, bits of gold-armour body strewn everywhere, but the rest were fine. And the Unicorn who had put the shield up…

… purple coat, narrowed purple eyes, a deep blue mane with streaks of purple, grey and pink, and a grimace of concentration and anger on her face.

“Shit,” Elliot said from along the barricade. He tapped his comm. “This is Elliot at Checkpoint Delta. Code Backstabber. Say again, Code Backstabber.”

“Did you say ‘Backstabber’, Sergeant?” the operator at Command said.

“Confirmed, ma’am,” Elliot said grimly. “Twilight Sparkle is here.”

Watching this exchange from the shadows, invisible as ever, a silent observer watched as Elliot’s group readied themselves for a fight, even as Twilight Sparkle, the Element of Magic, the Archmage of the Solar Empire, directed her troops into position to advance.

Ah, thought this observer with a small smile, even as Elliot’s group opened fire again, their rounds impacting uselessly on Sparkle’s shields. Finally. Now it’s time to get to the bottom of all of this.

Much as I've been planning for this fight since 2017, this is all new writing. I've been looking forward to this: I only hope that it lives even a fraction up to your expectations.

“Then despite whatever options he is given, he must be -”
“The man that he is. Exactly.”
“Is that a failing in humans?”
“You'll have to decide that for yourself.”
Lt Cmdr Data and Counselor Deanna Troi, Star Trek: The Next Generation – “Peak Performance”.

New York – PHL HQ.

Cheerilee’s headache was getting decidedly worse. The Doctors – Bowman and Whooves – had run off, their mouths running so fast that Cheerilee had been unable to keep up. Jim had stayed with them, discussing the implications of what two Alicorns and Discord – Discord, of all things! – showing up really meant for them. Bowman had seemed… uneasy.

“This could be good, if it’s come to pass how it… how Jim wanted it to,” he had said.

As always, there was something in the way the man spoke that made a chill run up Cheerilee’s spine. Everyone and their mother had spoken about the man knowing things, though whatever those things were was a different question. And right now, he seemed to know more than he was saying about these things, too.

“Lieutenant Colonel?” came a voice from the doorway to her office.

Shaking her head clear of her thoughts, Cheerilee looked up from her desk to see a shaken-looking Manewell Trotsworth.

“Manewell?” she asked quietly. “What is it?”

He swallowed, his eyes wide with what Cheerilee could only call terror.

“Code Royal,” he said. “In Boston. Right now.”

Cheerilee blinked. She blinked again. The words she had just heard settled in her mind, rolling through her skull like the tolling of a great bell.

Well, she finally thought, darn.

Boston – Code Royal Ground Zero

Princess Luna was in the fight of her life.

Blades of Destiny, she thought, as a half-dozen blue-sheen swords came into existence about her head. Some, she angled to point at Queen Celestia, throwing them like javelins. Others spun about her head, and she slashed and hacked at the corrupted alternate of her sister. And yet, nothing got through.

Celestia was still smiling, a little confident smirk that Luna knew well. It was the smile she wore when she bested you at chess, or made some logical point of politics that she knew you couldn’t recant.

She thinks she’s going to win, Luna realised. She has no fear, no doubts.

Even so, Luna did not stop pressing her attack, trying again to break her enemy’s concentration, to land a single blow. Her blades spun faster, and she summoned more and more, forcing her sister’s dark mirror to draw upon more power in turn to shield herself.

“Blades of Destiny? I mean, really, Luna?” Celestia said, her smile turning to a condescending smirk. “Of all the – admittedly quite paltry – spells you know, this one’s probably one of the weakest pound for pound, given all the effort expended compared with the result you get. I mean come on, Little Moon,” she added, dodging a particularly vicious strike. “I’m not even working up a sweat.”

Luna didn’t rise to the mockery, instead simply continuing her assault, gritting her teeth as she did so. Yet she could not deny, the dark mirror of her sister wasn’t entirely wrong.

I have to think outside the box, she thought grimly. Celestia knows me. This is her advantage, but also her weakness. What would I not do?

It was certainly not an easy thing to consider, doubly not when faced with this enemy. Even as she began thinking her options through, her sister’s mirror sidestepped one of her blades, her horn flashing in a dispelling hex that blasted Luna backwards and disrupted her blades.

“Now,” Queen Celestia said, “let me show you how it’s really done, Little Moon.”

Her horn glowed, and a flash of energy shot towards Luna. Grimacing, Luna blocked it with a shield, but her shield flickered and died the moment the attack ended, and she was forced to summon another, and another, as the corrupt Queen sent more and more spells her way.

Think! Luna’s mind roared at her, in Celestia’s own voice no less. Ignoring the irony, Luna concentrated, before summoning the Blades of Destiny again. This time, she spun her magically conjured weapons in front of her in a defensive posture as Queen Celestia threw another spell. Channelling a little more energy into it, Luna caught her opponent’s spell, before spinning the blade around and sending the spell right back at her corrupt sister. Queen Celestia barely had time to blink in shock before her own spell impacted her and exploded.

A cloud of dust and debris flew into the air. Winded, Luna stepped back, raising her shield again. There was a sound like coughing for a moment, before Queen Celestia trotted out of the cloud of debris, grimacing to herself.

“Well played,” she complimented Luna, her expression momentarily livid. Suddenly, her confident smile snapped back into place. “See? That was clever. Try more like that, and you might make this bout more entertaining for me.”

Luna growled. “This battle is not for your entertainment, cur.”

“Oh, pish,” Celestia said, waving a wing dismissively. “Why do you think I’m here, fighting you like this, if not for my own entertainment?”

Suddenly she dashed forward, ramming into Luna and sending her sprawling back, before spinning and sending a kick into Luna’s ankle. Letting out a cry, Luna fell to her knees, and Celestia brought a hoof up, before hitting her in the face.

“I have armies, legions,” the corrupt Queen snarled. “I could have swatted this city – this planet – without ever moving a muscle. This? All of this? This fight, this war, this destruction?!” She grinned, a vicious, predatory thing that seemed almost to split her face as it widened further than any smile Luna had ever seen on her sister’s face. An odd timbre entered Celestia’s voice as she loomed above. “This is me having fun.”

Even as she said it, she sent another series of spells hurtling towards Luna, blasting her backwards. Hissing in pain, Luna rolled, trying to get to her hooves. Before she could, however, Celestia was suddenly above her, before landing with a sickening crunch, her hooves coming down hard on on Luna’s wing.

Luna let out a cry of agony. It had been an age or more since something had hurt her so viscerally, and she had forgotten what this pain could feel like.

“Oh, yes,” Celestia said, almost moaning as she pressed harder on the splintered wing. “That’s the sound I needed to hear! The sound of Alicorn bones snapping beneath my hooves! I had almost forgotten…”

With a roar of agony and rage, Luna unleashed a shockwave: her horn glowed and a flash of energy blew Celestia off of her. Luna got to her hooves as fast as she could, turning her attention to her wing.

Crushed, she thought, looking at her wing, but in place for now.

Focusing, she applied a quick healing spell to herself. The pain subsided, and a quick test showed that the wing worked.

If I survive this, Luna thought grimly, I shall have to have a healer take a look.

Before she could think more on it, she was forced once more to raise her shields and block a new barrage of spells from her sister’s corrupted alternate. She had more luck this time, and channelled more energy into blocking the strikes, but it was still taking its toll on her. Celestia was scowling at her, whether from hurt at the last spell or anger at having her sick fun interrupted, Luna couldn’t tell.

There must be something I haven’t tried, Luna thought. Some trick that will catch her off-guard.

There was one thought that she hadn’t considered, but it was one she really didn’t like: it would take a great deal of magical power to achieve, and she only knew the spell in theory, having never dared practice it before. Unfortunately, it was also the one spell she knew Celestia would not be expecting, least of all from her.

Galatea, she thought, where are you?!

Checkpoint Delta

John Constantine winced as a spell impacted against the window. Though the glass was reinforced, concussion-proof glass that ATC had developed, it still wasn’t impervious. John knew it would be blown in any minute now by a stray spell.

I should have stayed at home, he thought, moving to duck under a table. There was a loud slam, as though something heavy had hit the wall. I should have stayed at home with a bottle of vodka and a pack of cigarettes.

“An interesting tactic, hiding under a table,” a female voice suddenly said. There was a faint lilt to her accent, and she sounded amused. “I’m not sure about the effectiveness of it, but then again, I’ve never tried it myself.”

John scrambled out from under the table, eyes wide in shock at the sight of a pony… no, an Alicorn. Grey, with icy silver-blue eyes staring coldly at him.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked, understandably rather shocked.

“I am Galatea,” she replied impassively.

This didn’t really feel like enough explanation for John, but he wasn’t exactly going to call an Alicorn out on being overly-succinct.

“Uh… right,” he said instead.

This ‘Galatea’, whoever she was, gave a soft, melodious chuckle, and John relaxed incrementally.

Laughter’s a good sign, right? he thought, still tensing.

“You, on the other hand, are John Constantine,” she continued, glancing around the space. “Currently assisting your people’s military, and associated with what your planet calls ‘Mystics’.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “A rather curious term in mine estimation. But then, this is a rather curious world that I have found myself on.”

“R-right…” John said, wide eyed at the sight of this being. “I… uh… don’t take this the wrong way, but -”

“I am aware mine presence might seem… unusual,” she said, holding up a hoof to forestall continued talking from him (which was probably just as well). “I suspect we have no time for detailed explanations, but suffice to say, I am here to help you however I may.”

“Help?!” John repeated, choking the word out. “And how exactly are you going to do that?!”

Galatea looked at the window, even as another spell slammed into it. John winced, half-tempted to duck under the table again.

“Your comrades outside are facing a dedicated magician, one they cannot defeat alone,” she said coolly. “I intend to even the odds.”

PHL HQ.

“I keep saying my TARDIS is not a troop transport!”

Dr Bowman – the Doctor – was pushing buttons, as several UNAC troops filed onto the ship. Cheerilee had known Bowman for nearly two years, and had known Doctor Whooves on and off for over a decade, and yet she could count the number of times she’d been inside either of their semi-miraculous devices and still have hooves to spare.

The expansive walls were corrugated, textured like concrete. Interspersed in the corrugated dips were a series of golden roundels that shone in the faint light, and in one corner of the room sat a chair with a box underneath it. Opposite this was a coat stand with two other tweed coats, three hoodies and a green military coat all hung on it.

At the centre of the room was a six-sided console that looked like it had been hewn from stone, covered in blinking lights, switches and buttons. A crystalline globe was cradled in the console, flickering with inner light.

“Doctor,” Cheerilee said quietly, “we don’t have any option. We’ve been over this.”

“I know, I know,” the Doctor replied. “Seriously, though, make sure they don’t touch anything. Heads will – not roll, but certainly ring with my irritation as I shout at them.”

Cheerilee nodded tiredly, and the Doctor stalked off, jabbing at controls on his console. There were a few ‘bleeps’ and ‘bloops’ going off. Sighing, Cheerilee closed her eyes.

Let this not be a mistake, she prayed to whoever was listening. Let this not be a mistake.

“Cheerilee,” a voice said from behind her. She opened her eyes, turning to see Professor Trotsworth looking at her dolefully.

“Manewell,” she said quietly. “You should be -”

“Cheerilee, you are not thinking of going with all these people, are you?” he asked her. “If it’s a Code Royal -”

“If it’s a Code Royal, then I have to see it through,” Cheerilee replied testily. She met Trotsworth’s eyes. “Manewell… if this is her… after everything we’ve lost, everything we gave up to be here, everypony we left behind… I need to be here.”

“Even if all you’re going to do is die?” Trotsworth asked quietly.

“Even then,” Cheerilee affirmed with a nod. “Lyra’s dream was to free Equestria. Defeating the Queen is how we do that. It’s only fitting that I should go – as the head of the PHL.” She swallowed. “As her friend. I have to finish what she started.”

Trotsworth didn’t look convinced, but all he did was shake his head.

“Cheerilee,” he said quietly, “if this is what you want, I can’t stop you. But be careful, please?” His eyes were glistening with unshed tears. “We’ve lost too many good ponies – good beings – in this war. I would hate for you to join that number.”

Cheerilee nodded. “I will do my best.”

Trotsworth smiled ruefully. “Of that, dear Cheerilee, I am in no doubt.”

Code Royal Ground Zero

It was slow going as the battle continued, but Bauer managed to get to Discord. The Dracon-whatever was pushing himself to his feet slowly as Bauer reached him, and looked at the human with a frown.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “This isn’t a place you want to be, Major Malfunction.”

“Well, I figured I’d see if you needed help,” Bauer replied easily. “What’s happening out here?!”

Discord cracked his knuckles. “What’s happening is that I’ve clearly not gone all-out enough on that whorse yet.”

“It looked pretty all out from where I was standing,” Bauer said, trying and failing to not sound scathing.

Discord scowled. “I have not yet begun to fight.”

Without another word, he disappeared, before reappearing above Queen Celestia, a dozen mallets appearing around him before hurtling at her almost at the speed of sound – literally, as Bauer could hear the cracking of the sound barrier. He winced, flinching backwards, but all that happened was that the Queen’s horn glowed, beams of light lashing out and vaporising each anvil before it reached her. A slash of white light cut through the air, and both Discord and Luna were thrown backwards.

“Is that all?!” Celestia called out, her voice ringing across the battlefield.

“Major,” came Kraber’s voice through Bauer’s radio. “We’re getting close to your position, but there’s a lot of Imp activity around here.”

“By which he means the Code Backstabber got him distracted, in case Pinkie Pie was around,” came the voice of Aegis, one of Kraber’s subordinates (and, Bauer thought privately, unofficial babysitter).

“And so we might get cut off before we can reach your position,” Kraber finished, not contradicting Aegis at all.

Grimacing, Bauer raised his sword incrementally. The call of Code Backstabber had made him rethink their priorities in this fight.

We might not get the Queen bitch with what we’ve got on the ground, he thought, but we can get the rest.

“Kraber,” he said, “prioritise supporting other positions. The Code Backstabber was at Checkpoint Delta, so maybe get there. We need to hold the city.”

“I… understood, sir,” Kraber said after a moment. “Can’t lie and say I’m not looking forward to seeing if there’s a certain pink bitch running around, after all.”

“He’s only mentioned it eight times,” Aegis supplied helpfully.

“But what about you?” Kraber asked. “You’re still at the Code Royal, aren’t you?”

Bauer took a deep breath. “I am. I’ll… assist Luna and Discord. If I can.”

“Can we trust them, sir?” Kraber asked after a moment.

“They’re getting their arses kicked helping us,” Bauer replied. “I think they’re on our side.”

“If you say so, Major,” Kraber said. “Just for the record, this is still a fokkin’ bad idea.”

“Well, just for the record, Kraber, today is a day for any idea we have, bad or not,” Bauer replied with a brief, humourless laugh. “Good luck.”

“You too, Major,” Kraber replied.

Yeah, Bauer thought, standing up. I’m gonna fucking need it, aren’t I?

Checkpoint Delta

Emma let out a breath, ducking behind the barricade and reloading her weapon. She popped up again in a flash, firing on the advancing Imperial forces, but her shots were blocked by that accursed shield.

“Weapon jammed!” True Grit yelled. “Cover us!”

That’s all we need, Emma thought. She ducked behind the barricade again as a hail of spells shot past where her head had been a second earlier. She saw Sam Lake hold his G2A2 over the parapet, firing blindly. She glanced at David Elliot, who was reloading his shotgun.

“We need to fall back!” she yelled.

“I know,” he replied, racking the shotgun, “but they’ll cut us down the second we try.”

He grabbed a grenade from his belt, popped the pin, waited a moment, and then stood. He moved fast – almost faster than Emma could see – throwing the explosive towards the approaching line of ponies. There was a small flash of light, a bang, and a few ponies fell away, though most were still protected by Twilight Sparkle’s shield.

That bitch. If only I’d brought a Type-7, Emma thought, growling to herself.

“Dave!” Sam yelled from where he was. “We don’t have -”

What they didn’t have, Emma didn’t get to find out, because there was a flash of light and a roar of debris and dirt. She ducked her head behind cover again, even as she heard a sound like a rush of energy, the crackle of electricity. She frowned behind her helmet, before popping her head over the barricade.

There was an Alicorn there: charcoal grey, wings spread outwards as she generated a shield that blocked further imperial attacks.

“What the actual fuck,” Sam said from further down the barricade.

Emma couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment. An Alicorn? Here? And not just an Alicorn, but one that was neither the Tyrant, nor Princess Luna.

That’s impossible, she thought.

“Ponies of Equestria, stand down,” the new Alicorn said, her voice strident and resplendent as it echoed across the street. “You cannot defeat me, and I have no wish to lay any of you low when a more peaceful option exists. I would speak with Twilight Sparkle.”

There was a ringing, echoing silence across the battlefield, and for a long moment, no one moved.

What the hell? Emma thought, looking at Sam and David. Who is this mare?

“You have no authority here, traitor,” a horribly familiar voice called back from the Imperial line.

Sure enough, Twilight Sparkle has stepped out, eyes narrowed at the new Alicorn. Her horn was glowing softly, as though she was preparing for a battle.

“I have no wish to fight you,” the new mare said, her tone remarkably level. “Mine name is Galatea. Whatever madness drives this war, I would seek to end it.”

“This war is a just one, traitor,” Twilight Sparkle called back. “A war to save a demented, primitive ape-species from their own stupid, blinkered life on a dying planet.”

Fuck you, Emma thought, scowling.

“You are in error,” Galatea said, her tone brooking no argument. “As is your Queen. I will correct you both.”

The glow of her Sparkle’s horn intensified. “If you stand with them, you’ll meet the same fate as all the other traitors. Reconditioning – or death.”

This proclamation rang out, and the dead silence descended once more.

“Humans,” the Alicorn – Galatea – said, speaking more quietly. “Stay back. This is mine.”

She took one step forward, planting her hoof in front of her with a deliberate stomp.

With a cry of rage, Twilight Sparkle threw a spell – a giant, purple blast of energy that hurtled towards Galatea. It impacted on a new translucent-white shield that simply existed, with barely any transition between the states of being and non-being. Galatea did not move an inch, and the only sign that she had registered the strike was a slight incline of her head. A moment passed, and then her shield expanded outward, the translucent energy slamming into Royal Guards and Twilight Sparkle alike, throwing them backwards. Sparkle recovered first, standing up and facing Galatea, raising another shield between them.

“You’re a traitor!” Sparkle hissed. “And worse. I know who you are, blood-traitor to the Queen! How dare you stand against your own -”

A flash of light careened from Galatea’s horn, silencing Sparkle as she was forced to raise another shield.

“You know nothing, little mare,” Galatea said blandly. “It is precisely because of who I am that I must stand against your Queen. She is everything I exist to stop.”

There was another flash of light from her horn, and Twilight Sparkle was thrown backwards, her shield dissipating in an instant. Other Royal Guardsponies stepped up, their horns glowing as they shot spells Galatea’s way, but she simply deflected every spell with an impassive expression.

Holy shit, Emma swore internally. This is… this is insane!

This was another level of fight entirely. She had never seen anything – not a PHL Unicorn, not UNAC tech, nothing – that had ever shrugged off Royal Guardspony attack in such a way.

The Alicorn had sent more spells, blasting through guardsponies like they were nothing. One guardspony was directly hit by a spell, and simply disintegrated, a cloud of ugly green smoke billowing from clattering, emptied armour.

Sparkle was charging another spell now, a larger one. It glowed with a deep, crackling purple energy.

“Shit!” Elliot swore from near Emma. “Everyone, head’s down!”

Emma did, just as Sparkle sent her spell hurtling towards their position. Galatea stepped forward, but Emma didn’t see what happened. She ducked her head beneath the barricade: there was a shockwave, as heat washed over the parapet, and then silence.

Elliot was the first to pop his head over the barricade, and a moment later he motioned for the others to follow suit. Emma tentatively looked over the sandbags, her eyes widening beneath her helmet. Galatea was still standing, as was Sparkle, though both looked tired. The street was blistered and scorched, and many of the Royal Guard had apparently pulled back.

“You are more powerful than I anticipated,” Galatea said after a moment.

“And you are less impressive than your lineage would suggest,” Sparkle retorted, breathing heavily. “I would have thought you’d be able to end this with ease.”

“If I wanted you obliterated, I would,” Galatea replied coolly. “But I do not wish to kill you.”

“You don’t seem so concerned about my soldiers,” Sparkle snorted.

Galatea inclined her head. “Perhaps. But a soldier will fight for their country whether they are right or wrong, and that is within the pattern of their lifespan. It fits for them.” She narrowed her eyes. “You, on the other hoof…”

Before she could finish, Sparkle’s horn glowed, a new shield popping into existence. There came a shout from behind Emma, and she turned, raising her weapon – only to lower it. A squad of troops were disembarking from a large, grey APC. Several of them had already begun firing at Sparkle’s unit, and she was struggling to keep her shield up.

Emma didn’t recognise the troops – they weren’t wearing UNAC Hardball armour. Rather, it looked like custom Armacham gear, almost like…

“Reavers,” Elliot muttered, just loud enough for Emma to hear.

HLF, Emma thought, eyes widening. They were already firing at the Imperial troops, who were buckling – between Galatea and the HLF, they had lost their momentum.

“Well,” Galatea’s voice spoke. Emma turned to look at the confrontation. Galatea was still facing Sparkle, who had not fallen back. “It seems the tide has turned. Will you surrender now, Twilight Sparkle?”

“Never!” Sparkle hissed. She threw another spell at Galatea, but it was small and the Alicorn deflected it with seeming ease.

There was a sudden flash of purple light, and then Sparkle was suddenly in front of the humans, a vicious rictus on her face as she threw a spell at the HLF soldiers. One unfortunate soldier was hit, his armour crumpling inwards with concussive force as he was thrown backwards.

Sparkle turned, her horn primed to cast another spell – only for Galatea to hit her in the face.

There was a sudden silence in the street. Sparkle stumbled backward, stunned, but before she could recover Galatea’s horn had glowed again and she blinked, her eyes rolling up into her head as she fell to the floor in a heap.

There was a momentary silence, and then Elliot motioned. True Grit came over, his horn glowing as he withdrew a small collar-like device – a nullifier, Emma realised with widening eyes – and slotted it onto Sparkle’s horn.

“She’s not getting out of that,” he said after a moment.

“Good,” Elliot said. “Sam, perimeter.”

“Allow us,” a woman from the Reaver group said. She motioned to her troops. “Idle, one type-7 fireteam.”

“You got it,” a gruff sounding man in Reaver armour said. His armour was daubed in a variety of Nordic-looking runes, some of which seemed to be in a rather unpleasant rust-red colour. He began motioning to the Reavers around him.

The woman turned to Elliot, before moving to take her helmet off, revealing a tired looking face under blonde hair tied back into a ponytail. She smiled, though there was no real mirth in it.

Emma felt her breath hitch slightly. Samantha Yarrow.

She hadn’t really changed since Emma had worked with her, seemingly an age ago. There was something harder in her expression, of course – the sort of look Emma had only seen in the eyes of hardened, weary soldiers who’d been in places too long. She remembered that look especially when she had served with veteran soldiers at Fairport.

What has she seen? Emma found herself wondering.

“Sergeant Elliot,” Yarrow said. “They left you and your little squad of misfits all alone here, did they?”

“They did,” Elliot replied easily. He moved to remove his own helmet, giving Yarrow a tired half-smile of his own. “It’s… it’s good to see you, Sam.”

“And you, David,” the woman replied. “Only sorry we didn’t get here sooner.” She sighed. “I had Howard head on for your Checkpoint Epsilon, but it’s… not looking good.”

“This looks like a coordinated offensive,” Elliot replied, scowling. “With so many smaller offensives happening across the East Coast, there’s no way we could have had the manpower to hold this.”

“‘S why we’re here,” Yarrow said quietly.

She glanced around, before her eyes fixed on Galatea, widening in shock.

“You,” she murmured. “How… why…?”

“Have we met?” Galatea asked impassively.

Yarrow blinked, apparently surprised by the bluntness of the response. “A… we did a long time ago, ma’am, around the Montreal incident.”

“Ah,” Galatea said, nodding. “Well, forgive me. I am not the Galatea you would have met.”

“What, is there a production line of you?” the man in the rune-daubed armour – Idle? – said irritably.

Emma frowned beneath her helmet, but Galatea only laughed.

“If there were, human, all our lives would be much simpler,” she said. “Alas, there is only I. And perhaps not for much longer.” She paused, turning to Yarrow. “You are aware that the corrupt Queen is here?”

“I heard the Code Royal come through,” Yarrow replied grimly. “You have something to do with that?”

“Inadvertently, perhaps,” Galatea replied, and for the first time her stoic mask broke and a look of – embarrassment? Shame, even? – came upon her face. “She must have sensed us, myself, Luna and Discord, as we arrived.” She shook her head. “I knew that she was powerful, but I misjudged how much so. That mistake may cost us all dearly.”

She let out a sigh, before turning her attention to the unconscious Twilight Sparkle.

“Command’ll love this,” Elliot said quietly, standing over the mare with his rifle pointed right at her head. “We’ve been wanting to take one of these bitches prisoner for years.”

“It seems so… ill-fitting of them to serve as warriors,” Galatea said. “I have met them in their prime, and they are not soldiers, not fighters save at the direst of need. And never so readily.”

“Clearly they’re fine with fighting now,” Errant Flight cut in. He was scowling at Galatea, suspicious.

Don’t blame him, Emma thought, shifting uncomfortably as she watched the Alicorn. This was… for all that PHL Agents were trained to deal with the unusual, this was beyond anything she had been given to understand. Which makes it odd that Sam Yarrow of all people knew her. What other secrets have they kept from us?

Galatea was frowning, a look that Emma almost thought might have been of confusion. “Perhaps there is more to their presence than meets the eye.”

“Thinking out loud?” Elliot asked, looking up at her.

“In a sense,” Galatea replied. “I was speaking to the wisest person present – myself. A habit of the old, and one I pray you all live to learn.” She smirked. “After all, the explanations needed by the young and inexperienced are too in-depth for this moment in time.”

“What are you thinking?” Emma asked, looking at Sparkle.

“I am thinking that I have many questions about the state of this world,” Galatea replied, “and Twilight Sparkle may have the answers.” She frowned. “Unfortunately, the one who can best get them from her is currently battling Celestia.” Her eyes narrowed. “I will return shortly. Guard Twilight Sparkle in the meantime.”

And then in a grey flash of light, she was gone. After a moment, Elliot let out a whistle.

“Well, this has been nuts,” he said. He began chuckling. “I wonder if Kraber’s having as crazy a time of it.”

“Un sekai nerahma safah! It’s SHOWTIME, MOTHERFOKKERS!”

“Of course he is,” Elliot said after a moment, his tone one of tiredly amused resignation. “It’s Kraber.”

There was a moment of quiet, and then Emma looked down at Twilight Sparkle.

This is insane! she found herself thinking. We’ve got a prisoner – one of the Elements, for God’s sake!

“Alright,” Sam Yarrow said after a moment. “Everyone, get into position to hold off the next wave!”

“You think there’s going to be a next wave?” Sam Lake asked from where he was standing, his body language looking somewhat aimless.

“Of course there is,” Yarrow said, snorting. “We just captured Twilight Sparkle, Lake. They’re going to tear us apart to get her back.”

“That’s not a comforting thought,” Errant Flight said, his expression dubious.

“Implies it was meant to be, flyboy,” Yarrow replied. “Let’s just hope we all see the dawn, eh?”

Emma swallowed. “Yeah, let’s.”

Yarrow threw her a look, a brief frown on her face, but Emma ignored her. There was still a battle to get to.

She could deal with other shit later… assuming there was one at all.

Code Royal Ground Zero

Luna growled as she pushed herself back to her hooves. Celestia was striding lazily towards her, looking at the tips of her wings again.

“Really, I’ve had a worse time with this sort of thing,” she said. “You did better than last time – of course,” she added, chuckling, “last time I took most of your magic before you defected, so you could barely throw enough magical force at me to vaporise a gnat…”

As she said this, she looked up and grinned at Luna, who snarled.

“Whatever you are,” she said, “you are not my sister.”

“Well, you’re not entirely wrong there,” Queen Celestia said, faux-yawning and covering her mouth with one wing. “Excuse me. I think I’m getting bored. That doesn’t happen often, either. My, my, today is full of surprises, isn’t it, Little Moon?”

“You’re not going to win this war,” Luna hissed. “Even if we fall, my sister will cut you down.”

“Will she?” Queen Celestia replied, tilting her head, still smiling. “Now, perhaps that will be a challenge… although, let’s get real here. The only one of you three worth your salt is mother dearest’s watchmare, and she’s apparently left you all to your own devices -”

There was a bright flash. Luna winced, and Queen Celestia blinked, looking up – just as a hail of white bolts of magic slammed into her, tearing up the ground about her and knocking her to the ground. Luna blinked in surprise, as Galatea floated gently to the ground in front of her.

“Hello, Luna,” she said evenly. “I believe I have need of your assistance elsewhere.”

“Where in all the darkest of hells have you been?!” Discord yelled, flashing into existence near them. “That whorse nearly killed us, multiple times -”

“Silence yourself, Discord, we’ve no time for your complaints,” Galatea said sharply.

She turned to the Queen, who was already raising herself up from the crater, smoke rising from her wings and body. She had burns across her form, and yet seemed none the worse for wear.

“Hello again,” the maddened Alicorn hissed, scowling at them all. “Now that you’re all here, do you want to die one by one or all in a -”

Galatea’s horn flashed, throwing another, massive spell straight at Celestia. The Queen was borne backwards, slamming through a half dozen buildings. Galatea growled, before her horn flashed, more spells following the first and slamming into Queen Celestia.

After a moment, there was nothing but a dust cloud, ashes, and silence.

“Luna,” Galatea said after a moment. “I have captured one of the Elements of Harmony who serve the Queen.”

She busied herself capturing one of the Elements while we fought Celestia? Luna thought, eyes narrowing in irritation. Still, it was in and of itself an achievement.

“Well done,” she finally said, keeping her tone neutral. “We will need to speak with her later, find out -”

“We cannot rely on there being a later,” Galatea interrupted. “I need you to come with me now to interrogate her, learn all she knows.”

Luna blinked. “What?!”

“We cannot rely on having time after this battle,” Galatea said, her tone increasing in urgency. “We must use this chance now, or we will lose it.”

Luna shook her head, mind reeling from the speed of the conversation. “What – how did -“

“I will explain when we get there,” Galatea said. “But there are questions we need to answer, and this seems to be the only way.” She turned to Discord. “Can you hold the Queen here for… at least half an hour?”

“Half an hour?!” Discord repeated. “She’s been tearing us apart! I don’t know if I can last half a minute!”

“I am sure you will try,” Galatea said impassively. She turned to Luna. “We have a unique opportunity here. We cannot delay.”

“Can this ‘unique opportunity’ not wait until after we’ve dealt with the Queen?” Luna hissed.

Galatea glanced at the crater where Celestia had been, and scowled. “No. It cannot. I cannot rightly say whether we will be alive to take the chance after this.”

“Well, that’s not pessimistic at all,” Discord cut in scathingly.

“Luna, please,” Galatea said quietly. “If nothing else, we must take this chance to pass on what we know. But first, we must know more.”

Luna sighed, shaking her head. “There’s no time for this, Galatea. We have to end her now.”

“Luna,” Galatea murmured, her eyes suddenly doleful. “I’m not sure we can.”

This blunt statement caught Luna off-guard, and she blinked, unsure how to respond.

“So you just want us to give up?” Discord hissed.

“Not in the slightest,” Galatea said. “But -”

There was a sudden cough. Galatea turned, as did Luna, to see Stephan Bauer staring at them.

“Human, what are you doing here?” Galatea asked sharply. “Is it not clear that you cannot help?”

“Says who, ma’am?” Bauer replied with a snort.

“Oh please,” Galatea rolled her eyes. “We’ve no time for human bravado.” She turned, narrowing her eyes. “One moment.”

She turned back in the direction the Queen has been blasted, and suddenly stepped forward. A glowing shield of energy appeared, blocking a massive golden beam of light for a brief second, before the beam was deflected into another building, incinerating it in a blast of heat and air.

Bauer stumbled back, eyes wide, even as Galatea brought the shield to a single condensed point on her horn. The condensed shield transformed into its own ball of energy, before being thrown straight at the source of the beam. Though none of them could see Queen Celestia, there was another sound of distant impact.

“There,” Galatea said, sounding winded.

“Okay,” he said, “that was…”

“Human, if you’re to help, it will be with tactics and whatever your kind have mustered to take on my corrupt alter-sister,” Galatea said impatiently. “Discord – you know what you must do.”

“I… fine,” Discord said. “But this is a bad idea.”

“Your opinion is noted,” Galatea replied. She turned to Luna. “Sister?”

Luna sighed. “If you insist. But this had best bear fruit.”

“It will,” Galatea replied. “That I promise.”

And then, in a flash, they both disappeared from the battlefield.

Discord swallowed, before looking at Bauer with a raised eyebrow. Bauer wasn’t looking at him: his radio was filled with a dozen cries of alarm at the destruction of the building, the shockwave having clearly been felt across the city.

“Where do you want to be?” the Draconequus asked.

“What?” Bauer asked, distractedly. “I – I need to get to Fenway Park at Point Beta, but -”

And just like that, he was there, surrounded by his own troops, many of whom aimed guns at him sharply.

“Major?” one of them, a soldier from Bauer’s attached Bundeswehr unit named Daniel, said. “What the hell happened? What are you doing here?”

Before Bauer could reply, there was a loud trumpeting sound. A moment passed, and then a large blue box appeared in the middle of the park, a few feet from where Bauer was.

Two for two, Bauer thought as the door to the box opened. A red headed man – Dr Bowman, Bauer recalled – popped his head out.

“Ah, Major,” he said. “Somepony in here would like a word.”

After a couple of seconds, Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee of all ponies stepped out, eyes narrowed as she took in the troops around her, before meeting Bauer’s eyes.

“Major,” she said sternly, in what might have been a tougher version of her schoolteacher voice. “Status report.”

Bauer took a breath. “Where do I begin, ma’am.”

Well, this is certainly heating up a tad, isn’t it?

If you’re reading this… well, thank you. This chapter in particular has been… difficult. Really difficult. So I’m grateful for anyone who cares enough to read this overblown ego-trip of mine. 😂

“A thousand years ago, the crystal cracked. Here, far from the castle, the race of Mystics came to live in a dream of peace.”
The Narrator, The Dark Crystal.

Somewhere.

Twilight Sparkle sipped a cup of tea, frowning at the equations she was looking at in her book. Sat on a chair outside her library, a parasol keeping the warmth of the lazy summer sun from reaching her, she could think of no better way to spend her time.

It was a beautiful day in Ponyville, and she couldn’t help but smile at how perfect everything was, here. There were no monsters, her library was looking healthier than ever, all her books were in a sensible order.

Perfect.

“Morning, Twilight!” a voice called out.

Twilight looked up, frowning for a moment, before seeing who it was and smiling widely.

“Good morning, Twilight!” she said to Twilight Sparkle, who sat opposite her with her own identical wide smile. “How are you today?”

“Not so bad, Twilight,” Twilight said, with a little, happy giggle. “How about you?”

“I’m great, Twilight, just great,” Twilight said, smiling again. “Oh, but I’m being rude! Shall I be mother?”

She picked up the teapot and poured them both another cup of tea. Twilight picked up her cup and took a sip, smiling again, even wider than before.

“Perfect,” she said.

“Of course,” Twilight replied, inclining her head. “Isn’t everything?”

“True enough,” Twilight said, bringing her book up. “Say, Twilight.”

“Yes, Twilight?”

“Can you help with this particular conundrum?” Twilight asked, turning the book around and showing Twilight the equations. “I feel like it’s gibberish. I’ve already asked Twilight and Twilight, but they don’t have the answer.”

“Gosh, and you don’t know it yourself?” Twilight said, eyes widening in surprise. “Why, I don’t think that happens very often, does it?”

“Well,” Twilight said modestly, “I don’t like to brag, but… well, this is an exceptional formula I’m trying to solve.”

“It must be, to be difficult for such an exceptional pony,” Twilight replied with a chuckle. She leaned in, frowning at the page. “I mean, it doesn’t look like gibberish to me, but it is very tricky.” She narrowed her eyes. “You need to balance this one and this one.”

She pointed to two points on the page, and Twilight turned it back around.

“Well, darn,” she said, frowning. “I never thought of it that way.”

Twilight gave Twilight a small, indulgent smile. “Perhaps if you go back a couple of steps, take a break, and maybe go see the others, you’ll feel better?”

Twilight nodded. “Maybe. It’s been a while since I stopped in to say hi to Twilight and Twilight. And I have been working very hard.”

“Don’t you always, Twilight?” Twilight asked, still smiling. “Don’t you always?”

Boston, Fenway Park, Checkpoint Beta.

Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee was rubbing her forehead with her hoof. If Stephan Bauer didn’t know better, he’d think it was a migraine.

Ah, who the hell am I kidding, it’s a migraine alright.

Not that he blamed her. As he spoke, her expression became first disbelieving, then shocked, then tired. She looked so worn down that for a moment he forgot that she was the PHL’s second in command.

“Could you… could you summarise this please?” Cheerilee repeated tiredly when he was done.

“Would ‘all hell has broken loose’ work?” Bauer asked. “It seems as close as I can get.”

“That’s not very helpful,” one of the other officers - a wiry blonde Lieutenant named Becker Kellman - said. “Or descriptive.”

“Well, you tell me how having three Alicorns and a draconequus running around, one of the former with no information on his location does not qualify as ‘all hell has broken loose?!’” Bauer said testily.

There was a momentary silence at his outburst, and then, to his surprise, Cheerilee let out a tired laugh.

“Sounds right to me, Major,” she said quietly. “Shall we focus on the rest of the situation?”

“Well, we have Code Royal and Code Backstabber on the ground with unconfirmed reports of Codes Party Pooper and Speed Demon on the ground,” Bauer said. “I think Kraber went after Party Pooper.”

“I wonder if there is a single person in the next three realities even remotely surprised,” commented Dr Bowman. The redheaded man was standing a little away from the group, his eyes narrowed.

“I’d be more interested if any people in said realities had any suggestions for what to do next,” Bauer replied testily. “We have a lot of problems out here, and not many solutions.”

“We brought a squad of specialists,” Cheerilee said, “along with a platoon’s worth of other troops. But you’re right, Major, this does present a problem.”

“We can’t pull out,” Kellman said quietly. “Even assuming we could bring enough firepower out to kill the Tyrant, we can’t level Boston. It’s too important.”

“Was levelling Boston somehow an option?” Bowman asked, folding his arms.

“No,” Cheerilee said, frowning at Kellman. “Becker, if I want suggestions of that ilk -”

“Ma’am,” Kellman replied, “I’m just stating a fact. The only thing we can do against her that has any chance would be levelling the city… but Boston’s too strategically vital.”

“He’s not wrong about the latter,” Bauer said, “but I have thoughts about the former.”

“Hit me, Major,” Cheerilee said, turning to him with a gleam in her eye that Bauer recognised from half a dozen terrifying situations and precisely three poker games (none of which Bauer had even remotely been close to winning). “Right now, I want every option we have that isn’t levelling this city, short of throwing a truckload of kitchen sinks at her.”

Bauer sighed, before nodding. “First off, I want every available unit to take position around the established battle zones.” He winced. “I can’t promise that it’ll stay there, so we’ll need to make it a wide perimeter. Try and contain it.”

“Solid plan, assuming our new weapons work,” Kellman said, nodding.

“By the stars, something I agree with Becker on,” Bowman muttered. He smirked at Bauer. “Well done, Major, you’ve made a miracle.”

“Shut up, Bowman,” Bauer said. “I need everyone outside that perimeter to find cover and stick to a defensive position. Make sure they got enough firepower to keep the fighting inside the perimeter. Shoot to kill for Celestia.”

“Not the others?” Kellman asked, frowning.

“Apparently the new Alicorn, Galatea, is an ally,” Cheerilee cut in. “One Jim and Hiro Mifune knew about.”

“Hiro’s involved?” Bauer said, eyes widening in shock. “I didn’t even know if he was still alive.”

“He’s involved, alright,” Bowman said, nodding. “Him and the other mystics. This was at least partly their doing.”

Bauer turned to Cheerilee, who sighed and gave him a tired smile. “It’s a long story, Major, assuming we survive it.”

Stephan groaned heavily. “I figured something big was going on. If I'd known it was to do with Mystics and all that crap…”

“It is,” Cheerilee affirmed. “Right now, we need Galatea, Luna, and yes, even Discord alive. We need answers from them. About all of this.”

“Well, from what I've seen, they're not here to harm us,” Bauer told her. “But that might be a trick.”

“It might be, Major,” Cheerilee agreed, “but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Anything else?”

“Yes, actually,” Bauer said. “I want to be there to help.”

Cheerilee paused, before pursing her lips. “You realise that if Trixie was here, she’d hang my guts on a railing for letting you risk your life like that?”

“Which is why I’m thankful she isn’t here,” Bauer said, smiling, though he felt a brief pang or anxiety at the mention of Trixie.

Cheerilee nodded. “And I guess ordering you to stand down will amount to spitting into the wind, right?”

Stephan smiled sadly. “You can still try, ma’am. I promise to at least hear you out.”

“I could try, Major, but since I’m inclined to agree with your assessment here I’d rather not,” Cheerilee said with a heavy sigh. “Do what you think best. I’ll coordinate here and try to keep our defences from collapsing in the meantime.”

Bauer nodded, and turned to go, only for Bowman to step forward, a look on his face that Bauer wasn’t entirely certain he liked.

“I have a thought, Major,” he said, “and I’m hoping it works as well as it did last time.”

Bauer blinked. “Sorry. What?”

“Alright,” Bowman said, clapping his hands together. “Hear me out on this one…”

Checkpoint Delta.

It was Twilight Sparkle.

Oh, she was older - grey hairs here and there, a few care lines Luna didn’t recognise - but it was definitely her. Seeing her was almost as bad as seeing Celestia. Especially since, unlike the maddened copy of her sister, this Twilight was asleep, and so could not help but be so much more like the Twilight Luna knew than the deranged mockery of her sister that she had fought.

“Are you alright?” Galatea asked quietly.

“No,” Luna replied, “I am not.”

Galatea’s expression became almost sympathetic. “Do you wish to discuss it?”

Luna shook her head, willing her emotions to the back of her mind and forcing herself to forget who it was she was looking at.

“We’ve no time, as you made abundantly clear,” she said. “I just…”

The facade broke, and she turned her gaze from Twilight, closing her eyes.

“Luna?” Galatea almost whispered.

“She is Twilight,” Luna whispered. “Not a day ago I saw her, free and innocent like all youth, and yet here she is leading an army, killing beings.” She opened her eyes, and met Galatea’s resolute gaze. “How? How did she become this?”

Galatea’s expression hardened. “We shall discover that truth together, sister.”

Luna took a breath. Sister. Only a short time they had known each other, and yet now they had to rely on one another to answer this most disturbing of riddles. Galatea’s expression seemed sincere enough, at least.

“I hope so,” Luna finally said, speaking so quietly that only Galatea could have heard her. She turned back to the unconscious Twilight. “So: interrogating an unconscious mare - I assume you intend -”

“A mind delve, yes,” Galatea nodded. “I will assist the humans in covering you.”

“Going in alone might not be safe,” Luna said. “Especially when I don’t even know what I will be looking for.” She looked up and met Galatea’s gaze. “I… would rather you were there with me.”

Galatea frowned, before looking back at the collection of humans standing by the barricade.

“Which of you is in charge here?” she asked.

One human in muddy-white, all-enclosing armour turned, before glancing at another human in green battle armour. With all the full-face helmets, Luna couldn’t get a clear impression of these humans.

“Your Checkpoint, Dave,” the second one said in a feminine voice.

“Right,” the first said, before waking up to Galatea. “Then I guess that would be me, ma’am.”

“We need you to protect our bodies while we go on the mind delve,” Galatea said. “I realise that will be difficult -”

“Mind delve?” the man interrupted.

“I am going to go into Twilight Sparkle’s mind and retrieve… vital information,” Luna explained. Would be nice if I knew what vital information I was seeking. “Galatea will accompany me.”

The man didn’t reply for a moment, but finally nodded.

“I, uh, recommend moving into the pre-fab,” he said, motioning to the structure. “It’s more defensible. I can have Taylor and Grit cover you directly in there, while the rest of us remain out here.”

“I’ll have Idle with you,” the human woman added, coming up behind the man. “The more the merrier, right?”

The man folded his arms. “Idle? Really?”

“He’s a good soldier,” the woman chuckled. She turned to Luna. “Just… don’t get on his bad side.”

“Just don’t talk to him,” the man countered. “He’s nothing but bad side.”

Galatea snorted. “If we are quite done discussing the ill-temper of one human soldier, may we proceed? I would rather complete this task sooner than later.”

Luna scowled. “Your impatience is wearing my own patience thin, Galatea.”

“Mine impatience is a product of the situation,” Galatea retorted. “And in case you were not aware, mine other self died in this city. I’ve little wish to have the same experience, at least not without gaining something valuable to our cause.”

This thought was sobering, and Luna blinked. What exactly was there that she could say to that?

“Then let us bring Twilight Sparkle into the ‘pre-fab’ and begin,” she said finally. “Since time is so short.”

“Gotcha,” the man said, nodding. He motioned to another of his troops. “Come on! Let’s get her into the checkpoint!”

Code Royal Ground Zero.

How long will Galway Girl need? Discord thought, hanging in mid-air. Hopefully not too long… He scowled. I mean seriously. ‘Half an hour’ my left foot.

He shook his head, trying to keep himself calm. It was difficult: he felt… angry. That was unusual: he got irritated, he got worried, he was even occasionally scared… but angry? He had never gone that far. Not really, anyway, not in the way he felt now.

I have to remember my strengths, he thought. Brute forcing isn’t it. I’m smarter than this. He looked at a non-existent watch on his arm and raised an eyebrow. Speaking of, I had best time this next one just right.

“Discord!” a demented sounding voice yelled.

“Ah, right on cue,” he said. He held out a hand, and in it materialised a baseball bat, the words Ashley Bat printed on it in bold letters, with smaller writing underneath in handwritten script saying ‘happy purifications, from the Batter’. A moment later, a streak of white light shot toward him, fiery and full of the promise of death.

“Purification in progress,” he murmured, and he swung the bat right as she was about to connect with him, sending her flying off into a nearby building with a loud crash and a scattering of rubble and debris, the bat breaking in two from the effort. He looked at it with a sad smile. “Home run. Thanks, Batter.”

A moment later, she burst from the ruins.

“You are starting to get on my nerves,” she growled.

“Only starting?” he asked. He tutted. “I really must try harder -”

There was a flash of light and he was blasted back. Grimacing, he raised his paw in a warding motion, but she barreled into him again before he could cast a defensive spell. She forced him through a building, before throwing him to the ground in a heap with another spell.

Groaning in pain, he pushed himself to his feet. “Alright, Celly, enough games. Can you and I take this seriously, now?”

“Really?” she said, landing near him, once again smiling. Seriously, why is she always smiling? “This from you, the least serious being I know, the king of games?”

“Ahem,” Discord said, raising a clawed finger and pointing upward. “I am a Lord, not a King, thank you very much. Judging from your ample figure, being an actual monarch would be bad for my general fitness. Is that your vaunted obsession with cake showi -”

He found himself blasted backward again, smashing into a building.

“Ouch,” he said, before collapsing to the ground. She landed in front of him again.

“You know,” she said idly, “the only reason I haven’t just obliterated you where you stand is that I’m eager to see what trap my two wayward sisters come up with while you stall me.” She tilted her head. “I’d like you to think on that for just a moment, please.”

Ah, heck, she figured it out, Discord though, grimacing. But at least she’s gonna help me drag this out. Which… actually might be bad. He winced. But hey, look on the bright side. I get to live a little while longer.

This did not feel like a bright side.

“Oh, I don’t like living for the future,” he said to distract himself, waving a paw as he stood, shakily, to his feet. “I prefer to live in the moment. And at the moment…”

Before he could finish speaking, a giant mallet appeared from nowhere behind Celestia, smashing her into the ground before pounding at her repeatedly.

“…at the moment, I'm enjoying hitting you with everything I can muster,” he finished with a snigger. “It's remarkably therapeutic. I'd do it more often, but I do intend to kill you, so I suppose I won't get the -“

The mallet evaporated in a flash of magical energy, Celestia obliterating it.

“… chance,” he finished, trailing off. “On the other hand…”

“Anything else?” she asked.

Discord grinned. “Oh, plenty.”

He raised a claw and snapped it once again, and suddenly the air around Celestia turned to frigid ice. Her face was frozen in a look of surprise.

“How’s that?” Discord asked, grinning.

The second the words left his mouth, the ice evaporated in a flash of magic, and his smile disappeared (along with his mouth).

“You know,” Celestia said, “that was very -”

She let out a surprised yelp, before looking back at her tail. Sure enough, there was Discord’s mouth, biting her tail.

“What perfume do you use back here?” the mouth asked, letting go. “Because it tastes awful -”

A thin beam of magic shot from Celestia’s horn into the mouth, and Discord’s ears suddenly shot fire. He blinked, his mouth suddenly back on his face.

“Ouch,” he said, opening his mouth and waving away the sudden stream of smoke. “I didn’t need a mouthwash that badly, Celly.”

“Seriously,” Celestia said, scowling at him. “Aggravating as I’m sure they are, are these toys all you have? A foal Alicorn could overcome these pranks.”

“Have there ever been foal Alicorns, apart from you, Galway Girl and Lulu?” Discord pondered. “Were you ever foals? I can’t recall. It was a long time ago.”

Rather than answer, Celestia charged up a spell, and Discord had to teleport himself away before it obliterated him. He saw the building he had been standing in front of simply vaporise in a flash of light, dust and ash falling where it had stood.

“You’re good at dodging at least,” Celestia noted, turning to look right at him. She smiled at his shocked expression. “You know you can’t actually hide from me, right? If you can smell me, I can smell you.”

Something was wrong with her voice, and Discord found himself floating gently away from her, feeling another unwelcome, unusual feeling.

Terror.

“I don’t understand,” he said quietly.

“Of course not,” she said, chuckling now. “You were just a baby when the rest of your kindred were obliterated. You don’t even really know why you exist, Chimera.” Her grin became almost predatory. “But I do.”

This isn’t right, Discord thought, raising a paw. He teleported again as Celestia threw another spell at him, and in turn he threw a ball of raw chaos magic at her. She, too, teleported to dodge it, the chaotic energy transforming the spot she had stood into a chocolate fountain.

“Come on,” he hissed. “That should totally have hit you!”

“Have you lost your touch, Chimera?” she asked in a mocking tone.

Discord growled. “I’ll show you ‘lost my touch’, you utter whorse.”

He raised one claw and snapped it, and suddenly…

… they were somewhere else.

Describing what happened to the immediate environment around them using the English language would have been like describing colour to a fez. Pointless, futile, impossible. Rather like the realm they were seemingly in.

What Discord had done was beyond dangerous: all around him was pure, unadulterated chaos: the raw stuff that his chaos magic was made of. It had transformed concrete in playdough, solids into liquids, gas into particles of salty mineral particles that, surprisingly, wasn’t made of salt. Euclidean geometry had temporarily left the building (and, indeed, the buildings) and the sky was turquoise with polka dots and rippled like turbulent water.

Discord grinned, before bringing both arms up in a pseudo-angelic pose, raising himself up into the sky. Lightning the colour of rose petals shout up from the ground and impacted the sky, splashing against the sky and sending spurts of the turquoise polka-dotted material splashing outwards. Splashes of it ended up everywhere, including a little on Celestia’s nose.

The Alicorn looked up at him, frowning in irritation, and went to fly, but when she sprung up she suddenly hit the floor in a heap. There was a momentary pause where she frowned in confusion, before she looked behind her.

Celestia’s wings had disappeared.

She looked at the empty spaces where they used to be with a vaguely disinterested expression, before looking back up at him.

“What do you think this will do, Discord?” she asked.

“What will it do?” he repeated. “This is my realm, Celestia. You’re surrounded by the very stuff I control. Your powers, your strengths, mean nothing in a reality where they literally don’t exist!”

Celestia looked up impassively for a moment, before she began to chuckle. Discord’s smile faded immediately.

“What are you laughing about?” he asked.

“Only this,” Celestia replied. “I defeated you before, and I defeated Kontagion. Did you really, truly think that you could defeat me with chaos magic?”

Her horn glowed with a pale, sickly light, and suddenly the reality around them snapped back to normal reality like glass shattering. Her wings were suddenly there again, and the streets around them were suddenly back to normal again. Falling from the heavens in shock, Discord hit the ground hard.

“Ouch,” he murmured, looking up from where he lay as he struggled to get to his feet. Her sudden attack had winded him once more.

She chuckled, still grinning at him. “Oh, Discord?”

He blinked. “Wha -”

There was a momentary flash of… something, and he looked down to see she had impaled him with her horn. It had passed right through his sternum, blood seeping from both ends. Red blood, so mundane, and yet even his veins ran with it.

I should really change that, he thought absently, his mind not quite registering the pain yet.

Oh, wait, there it was.

He let out an unearthly howl, screeching out to the heavens.

“What do you think, Discord?” Queen Celestia asked, a dark tinge of amusement under her voice. “Me, inside you. It’s not quite what you’ve always truly wanted, all these millennia, but tell me how it feels.”

She pulled her horn out, and Discord fell to his knees, eyes wide as he looked at the hole in his chest.

“Painful?” she asked. “Good, chimera, good. I was hoping to get more time with you. So much more time with you. For us to do this over…” She put a hoof under his chin, lifting it to meet her eyes. “And over… and over again, until you’ve felt a hint of the torment I’ve suffered over the years.”

Torment? Discord thought weakly. What does she mean?

Wrenching his head away from her hoof, he disappeared, teleporting himself away from her before raising his lion paw. A hail of… hail shot out of his paw, smacking into her head for a moment until she raised a shield. She growled, her expression becoming almost feral for a moment, and then she laughed.

“I must admit,” she said, “you’re doing better than you did in this world. That's surprising.”

“Wait… wait ‘til you hear… my Beethooven,” Discord said grimly. He snapped another finger, and there was a gleam in the sky.

Celestia looked up, raising an eyebrow. “What in the name of all that is…”

A moment later, a giant grand piano landed on her head, another Discord tapping away at the thing.

“You ruined the middle C,” he yelled over at the Discord who was grinning at the scene.

“Sorry!” Discord replied, wincing in pain.

A moment later, the piano (and the playing Discord) was obliterated by a flash of energy. Celestia barreled out, slamming into Discord, and threw him through another building in a flash of power. Before he could react, he was blasted back by another sudden blast of energy, slammed through another building, and then found another bolt of magic bearing down on him, smashing him through three metres of concrete and then leaving him groaning in pain.

“Alright…” he murmured. “We can call it a draw, if you really want…”

He pulled himself out of the crater he'd been left in, and scowled at Celestia, who was standing nearby.

“I’m curious,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Do you ever get bored of your childish antics?”

“Not… really,” he said, groaning. He held up a clawed finger. “Gimme a minute, please. That last one was a doozy.”

“I don’t think so,” she said. Her horn flared and another spell blasted him through another building, where he lay in a heap.

Okay, Discord, he thought, cracking his neck.

“You might not get bored of this ridiculousness, Discord, but I do. I've been patient enough. It's time for you to lie down and die.”

“Die, huh?” Discord asked, smiling weakly. “Alrighty then.”

He raised and snapped a claw, and suddenly a giant six-sided die dropped onto Celestia, smashing her into the ground, before exploding in a flash of light and smoke.

“Ah, everypony loves a pun,” Discord said with a tired smile.

The smoke cleared, and Celestia was suddenly standing less than four feet from him, and his smile disappeared.

“In that case,” she said, grinning maliciously as her horn glowed, “prepare for your punishment.”

Checkpoint Delta.

Galatea and Luna were standing above the unconscious Twilight Sparkle, who was lying on a table. One of the humans, who had introduced himself as ‘David Elliot’, had put her there himself.

“Alright,” Galatea said quietly, her eyes looking over Sparkle before looking to Luna. “Are you ready?”

Luna snorted. “Are you? This is my forté, sister.”

“You are not wrong there,” Galatea said with a nod. “Very well, I shall follow your lead.”

“What about us?” the soldier called Idle asked. He still wore his full-body armour, and his voice had that metallic timbre as it came from within his helmet. “What should we do while you’re doing… whatever you’re doing?”

“Try not to die?” Galatea replied with an arched eyebrow.

“Make sure nothing gets to us,” Luna added, throwing a quick scowl in Galatea’s direction. The grey Alicorn merely gave Luna a small, unbothered shrug.

“Alright,” Idle said, sounding none too happy.

“Princess Luna,” the Unicorn soldier - True Grit, Elliot had called him - put in. “Good luck, ma’am.”

“Thank you,” Luna said, inclining her head. “I wish you the same.”

And then her horn glowed -

Somewhere.

The sun was shining over their heads, and a quick look around revealed that they were in Ponyville. The village looked almost perfect, save for the fact that the entire town was strangely out of focus. Almost too much so, more than any dream that Luna had entered in all her centuries.

Galatea was there with her, looking around with a frown on her face. Luna suddenly realised that her sister looked more perplexed than she was.

Finally, something she does not have an answer for, Luna thought ungraciously, but she dismissed the thought with a frown.

“This,” Galatea said, “is not quite what I was expecting.”

“And just what were you expecting, Galatea?” Luna asked, looking around the faux-Ponyville with a neutral expression. “Obvious pain, suffering? Chains and blood? Perhaps Twilight Sparkle nailed to a wall?”

“I don’t know,” Galatea replied. “Just… I expected something that fit. Nothing I’ve seen makes sense. None of it does.”

“Then shall we focus on finding Twilight Sparkle, and finding the sense in this place?” Luna asked, arching an eyebrow.

“That may be prudent,” Galatea said quietly. “Lead on, sister.”

Somewhere.

Twilight Sparkle sipped a cup of tea, frowning at the equations she was looking at in her book. Sat on a chair outside her library, a parasol keeping the warmth of the lazy summer sun (praise the sun) from reaching her, she could think of no better way to spend her time.

It was a beautiful day (it’s always a beautiful day) in Ponyville, and she couldn’t help but smile at how perfect everything was, here. There were no monsters, her library was looking healthier than ever, all her books were in a sensible order.

Perfect.

“Twilight Sparkle?”

Twilight looked up at the unfamiliar voice, and blinked as she saw two Alicorns approaching her. One was grey, unfamiliar to her, but the other was -

“Princess Luna!” she said, smiling widely. “It’s been forever! How are you?”

Luna blinked at her. “I… am well, Twilight. And how are you?”

“Oh, excellent, except for this real humdinger of a formula I’ve been trying to solve,” Twilight smiled. She turned her book around, showing Luna and the new Alicorn it. “I don’t suppose you have any insights?”

The new Alicorn stepped up, narrowing her eyes at it. “Twilight Sparkle, this puzzle is nonsense.”

“Oh, well, forgive me Princess, but it’s not nonsense,” Twilight said. “You see, if you look here, and here -”

She pointed to two points on the paper where she had solved the image. Luna looked at the point: to her surprise, the lunar diarch looked utterly perplexed.

“Twilight,” she said slowly, “this really is nonsense.”

“Hm.” Twilight looked at the book again. “Did I make a mistake somewhere? Well, thanks for pointing it out.”

“Twilight…” Luna said again.

“Twilight!”

Twilight looked up, to see Twilight approaching, a smile on her face. “Oh, hello Twilight! Luna and - uh…”

“Galatea,” the grey mare said without inflection.

“Galatea came to visit me!” Twilight finished, still smiling.

“Isn’t that lovely,” Twilight said, smiling at Twilight before turning to the other two. “May I speak with you both, please?”

The two Alicorns exchanged looks, as though considering her request for a moment.

“Of course,” Luna said after a moment. “Please, lead on.”

“Take care!” Twilight said to both of them as Twilight led them away.

“You as well, Twilight,” Luna replied automatically, before stopping. “Please. Take care.”

“I will!” Twilight beamed at them.

As they trotted away, she returned her attention to her equations, before frowning at them.

They’re not nonsense, she thought. Are they?

(Of course they’re not. You’re just smarter than them. Keep trying.)

Smiling again, Twilight kept working on her book.

Something was off about this other Twilight. Something in the way she walked, in the way she held herself, even in the intonation of her voice.

“You really shouldn’t be here, you know,” the other Twilight Sparkle said as they walked.

“And yet we are,” Galatea said impassively from next to Luna. “So are you to explain what you are, or should we take a guess?”

The faux-Twilight laughed. “Oh, good. I was almost expecting you not to understand.”

“A simulacrum?” Luna asked, looking from Galatea to the not-Twilight.

“That’s a very basic way of putting it,” the faux-Twilight said softly, before turning back to them both, an odd gleam in her eye. “I’m Twilight. The perfect Twilight.”

“Speaking as one whose entire role is observation, perfection is impossible,” Galatea countered at once.

“You mistake me,” the faux-Twilight said, smiling coldly. “I am Twilight. I am her thoughts, her memories, her personality. Certain things - the choices she would make - have of course been changed to accommodate the Queen’s wishes. I may seem a little changed…” And here she chuckled. “But I assure you. It is still me.”

Luna’s eyes widened. “You’re a copy. A complete copy of her mind, imprisoning her real mind within its bounds.”

“Indeed,” the faux-Twilight said, smiling again. “And if you’ll forgive my arrogance, it’s a very, very impressive piece of magic. I would have loved, under normal circumstances, to study it more closely, but you must understand that I’ve been so preoccupied with the war and the acclimatising of the Newfoals that…”

“Stop!” Luna hissed. “You… you speak like her, but you are not her!”

“I am, in every way, her,” the copy retorted. “I possess everything she possesses. Her memories, her intellect, her intuition. There is no part of her that was not put into me!”

Galatea remained silent through the exchange, though her brow was increasingly furrowed - whether in concern or thought, Luna neither knew nor cared.

“A complete copy of that kind is impossible,” Luna whispered. “What sorcery is this? What allowed you to exist, thing?”

“Okay. Firstly, ‘thing’ is a very hurtful term,” the copy said.

“I do not care if you feel offended, abomination!” Luna hissed.

“And secondly,” the copy pressed on, ignoring the interruption, “it’s not like I was ever going to tell you everything.” She smiled. “You shouldn’t be here. And indeed, if She knew, she would eject you herself, with pain. But we are allowed leeway from Her, and so you are fortunate in that regard.” Her smile dropped like a stone. “But be warned. You are not welcome in this place. Not now, not ever.”

“Twilight Sparkle will be freed,” Galatea said from next to Luna. “There is nothing that can prevent it.”

“If you say so,” the copy replied, “but I’m afraid that it won’t be right now. Now.” Her eyes gleamed again. “Get. Out.”

And then suddenly Luna’s eyes snapped open.

Galatea was already awake, her brows furrowed thoughtfully. The humans were watching them too - the one in the long coat was smoking some sort of cigarette, looking at them with what might have been a frown of suspicion.

“Well?” he asked. “Anything?”

“Many things,” Galatea said without looking at him. She met Luna’s eyes. “We know, now.”

“What do we know, Galatea?” Luna asked. “That she is possessed?”

“Exactly,” Galatea said. “By something strong and evil. She is trapped in a fantasy within her own mind, while her body is controlled by a copy so perfect that you could never tell it wasn’t the real thing.”

“I’m sorry, human a bit lost here,” the soldier Idle said from by the window. “You telling me she’s not her?”

“That is precisely what we are saying,” Galatea said, before whistling softly. “Well. That answers that.”

“Then now what?” Luna asked, frowning. “What do we do with this information?”

Galatea smiles, though to Luna’s eyes it looked tired and worn out more than anything else.

“Now, sister,” she said quietly, “we finish this fight.”

Because why not.

“I have no right to ask this of any of you, but will you follow me? One last time?
Thorin Oakenshield, The Hobbit: The Battle of Five Armies.

Checkpoint Delta.

“Alright, not to be a damp squib, but how the fuck do we kill an Alicorn anyway?!”

Emma couldn’t find herself disagreeing with the sentiment, spoken with all the bluntness of a sledgehammer to the face by John Idle. With his helmet off, the shaven-headed, tattooed man looked downright intimidating.

The grey Alicorn had looked deadly serious when she had stepped out of the pre-fab, Princess Luna right behind her. And then she had said the magic words.

“We have to kill Celestia.”

Emma liked to think of herself more as a realist than an optimist. Optimism in this war was about as useful as a wet piece of toilet paper, and just as likely to tear and get you covered in shit.

How many times did we learn that the hard way? she thought bitterly. She ran a hand through her hair, and then folded her arms. No one else was speaking - not Samantha Yarrow, with her unreadable poker face, or any of her men, and certainly none of Emma’s group.

“Killing her isn’t going to be easy,” David Elliot finally said, his voice quiet. “I take it you’ve got an idea of how to achieve it.”

“Something of an idea, yes,” Galatea replied. “She is far more powerful than myself, Luna or Discord, but collectively we have been able to hold her briefly.”

That doesn’t sound comforting, Emma thought. No, scratch that. It sounds like the least comforting thing ever.

“‘Hold her briefly’,” Errant Flight said, echoing Emma’s thoughts. “That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement of your abilities.”

“That’s a bloody understatement,” Constantine said.

“I know,” Galatea said, “but if we combine our power with the strength of your kind’s weapons, we may yet have a chance.”

“Then you’re in luck,” Elliot said quietly. “Colonel Cheerilee made landfall in Boston not long ago, and she has a platoon of troops with our experimental AA gear.”

“AA?” Luna repeated. “‘Anti-Alicorn’?”

“That’s the one,” Elliot said. “It’s all in the experimental stages - you’ll understand we’re sort of lacking in anything that’ll really do to test it on.”

“Still, it is a beginning,” Galatea cut in sharply. “And we will need to take it.” She looked up at the sky for a moment. “Luna - we must hurry to Discord’s aid.” She looked at Elliot. “If your leader knows the craft of war as she ought to, then tell her to commit her troops to the battle swiftly.”

“I’ll… pass the message along, ma’am,” Elliot said with a nod.

Galatea nodded, before turning to Luna. “Let us go.”

“Wait,” Samantha Yarrow said, stepping forward.

“‘Wait’?” Galatea repeated, turning to look at her with a frown. “We have little time to waste, human.”

“My name is Samantha Yarrow,” Yarrow retorted hotly. “And I want to know why the hell we should do anything you say.”

Galatea let out a laugh. “You jest. We are at war, and right now we two,” she motioned to herself and Luna, “are the only two with a hope of halting your foe. And you ask why you should follow our lead?”

“She’s asking,” Luna cut in quietly, “because they don’t know us, Galatea. Whether they can trust us, whether we are here as friends or foes.”

Galatea blinked, turning to look at her sister, but Luna simply moved towards Yarrow, the Alicorn’s expression calm.

“We came here to help,” Luna said softly. “Because we heard the plea of your people, and realised we couldn’t simply stand aside. We may not know best how to fight this battle, but fight we must.” She moved one of her legs up, holding her hoof out to Yarrow. “All we ask is that you give us the chance.”

Yarrow glanced at the hoof, her brow creased in thought. The others were looking at each other, none of them saying a word. Emma didn’t know what to think.

Then Yarrow slowly held out her hand and grasped Luna’s hoof.

“I guess you can’t say fairer than that,” she said simply.

Luna smiled. “Perhaps not. But it is in our deeds that we will prove our worth.”

She stepped back. Galatea looked impatiently at her, before looking back at the humans.

“We will do our part,” she said. “Make sure you do yours.”

Then the Alicorns spread their wings, and in a rush of wind they were gone. There was an eerie silence.

“Um, Sergeant Elliot,” Emma said after a moment. “Permission to speak freely?”

“Sure,” Elliot said, sounding tired.

“This… this sounds insane,” Emma said slowly. “All of it. Alicorns? New Alicorns?! And now some vague plan to kill the Queen when we’re barely holding the line?!”

“She’s got a point, Dave,” Sam Lake said quietly. He’d been silent as the plan was discussed, but the look on his face was pensive. “We’re not exactly in a position of strength here.”

“Of course not,” Elliot replied. “That’s probably why Celestia hit us now, instead of sitting on her throne, all Orcus.” He took a deep breath. “It’s big, and it’s scary. But this might be the only chance we’ll get to do it.” He smiled. “Besides. You heard the Princess. They came here to help.”

Emma sighed, nodding. “Yes, sir.” She looked back at him, before smiling. “So. How do we help, d’you think?”

“Well, we have a prisoner to deal with for a start,” Elliot said, motioning to the pre-fab. “Taylor, you and Sam - Lake, that is,” he added with a look at Yarrow, “go and keep an eye on her.”

“We’ll keep an eye on the bitch, alright,” Lake said with a snort.

“Don’t forget she’s a prisoner, and a valuable one,” Elliot cautioned. “We need her, Sam.”

Lake nodded grudgingly.

“In the meantime, I’ll get on the horn to Lieutenant Colonel Cheerilee at Beta,” Elliot continued. He clapped his armoured hands together, and gave a very serious attempt at a smile. “Alright people, let’s help kill an Alicorn!”

Emma smiled weakly, and True Grit and Errant Flight both let out weak cheers. Idle laughed, and so did some of the other Reavers present. Yarrow simply sighed.

Were it so easy, Emma thought ruefully.

Runrunrunkillrunkillrunkillrun…

Discord’s mind was screaming at him as he dodged another blast of magic from the Queen.

It wasn’t screaming at him in the usual way, either, where it would randomly throw noises at him in the delightfully chaotic way his Draconequus and chaos-magic addled brain would sometimes decide, but in an entirely new and unpleasant way. It was yelling at him to run, it was demanding he rip and tear…

There was something wrong here. Something wrong about her. But despite screaming at him, his mind wasn’t telling him anything useful.

“Something wrong, Discord?” Celestia giggled. “You look a little worse for wear…”

It was true, he was. There were scuff marks along his body, bruises and cuts from a dozen impacts. He was healing - his body’s healing factor, such as it was, was capable of matching up with an Alicorn’s on a good day - but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t getting worn down, worn out.

He closed his eyes, and flew upward again, taking a deep breath. As Celestia flew closer to him, he brought his paw and claw up, and found out where the air currents were.

Subtle chaos magic - activate! he thought, and without so much as his trademark flash, every iota of air between Celestia and him turned into clear gaseous poison. Celestia flew into it, and slowed, her breathing suddenly becoming off. Discord smiled, before bringing his paw and claw together, increasing the air pressure of the air around Celestia. She let out a harsh, screeching yell of pain, and began sinking slowly to the ground.

Discord tightened the area of the poison gas’ effect, narrowing his eyes as Celestia reached the ground. She looked up at him, her eyes burning with sudden loathing.

Yes, that’s it, Discord thought. Just give up and die already!

Her horn started glowing, but without air even an Alicorn would suffocate, and the pressure on her body must have been immense by this point. Any other being would have already imploded.

Die! Discord thought, gritting his teeth as he compressed the poison even further. Die, blast you! DIE!

Suddenly Celestia’s horn flashed, and the compressed poison gas was blasted away, dissipated by the shockwave of her spell.

“Discord!” she yelled. “That was sneaky, you filthy, bastardised Chimera!”

A spell shot from the tip of her horn, soaring towards him. Discord brought his paw up again, and a translucent wall of ice appeared before him, catching the worst of the blast. He brought his claw up, and more ice formed around him, the air particles transforming into frozen blocks. In desperation, Discord threw the walls of ice at Celestia, but the Alicorn’s horn simply pulsed with magic and a shockwave of fire shot out, vaporising the ice as it flew.

“Seriously,” Discord whispered. “This is getting ridiculous.”

“I agree,” Queen Celestia grinned, before taking flight once more, floating up to meet him. “Shall we end this, Chimera?”

“Stop calling me that!” Discord yelled, bringing up his paw and summoning a crossbow that was longer than he was.

He levelled it at her and fired, a single bolt soaring towards the insane Alicorn. She gave an unimpressed smirk and threw a thin bolt of magic at it, but instead of being destroyed it split into a dozen smaller arrows. Two or three managed to hit her, sinking into her chest and calf, and she let out another yell.

“Gotcha!” Discord bellowed.

Celestia looked up, her eyes blazing again, and the arrows burnt to cinders in her flesh, charring her flesh in the process. The marks remained even after her wounds healed.

“I hope… you enjoyed… that…” she hissed.

Discord grinned. “Just a bit, Celly.”

“How nice for you,” she said, regaining something of her composure. “Every being should get one hit in, one last piece of amusement… before they die -!”

A bolt of magic shot out of her horn, faster than Discord could block it. He raised one paw in an impotent blocking move -

- only for Luna to suddenly be there, a shield of midnight blue catching and dissipating the spell in a blast of power. Luna’s mane waved behind her. Behind Discord appeared Galatea, whose horn was glowing with crackling white energy.

“Ready?” she asked Luna.

In response, Luna dropped the shield. Immediately Galatea threw a spell that looked like a streak of lightning, and it slammed straight into the Queen, throwing her backwards through the air. Sparks of electricity surrounded her, making her muscles convulse, and it seemed to be all she could do to stay in the air.

“Finally bringing your A-game, Galway girl?” Discord asked with a snort.

“Joke later, Discord,” Galatea retorted. “Right now, we have to clear an area to entrap her.”

“To what now?” Discord said, frowning.

“Luna,” Galatea said, ignoring him, “do you think you can hold her off for a little longer while we prepare ourselves at the garden yonder?”

“Sister,” Luna replied, grinning, “it would be my genuine pleasure.”

Galatea nodded, before flapping her wings once and taking off.

“Go with her, Discord,” Luna said evenly. “Now.”

Discord scowled, before snapping his claw and disappearing in a flash, following after Galatea.

Luna let out a deep breath, before turning her attention back to the Queen. She had finished convulsing, most of the sparks of electricity dissipating from about her body.

“So,” Luna said. “I believe it is time to finish this match.”

Queen Celestia snarled, if only momentarily, before snorting.

“Little Moon, you have no idea what you’re up against,” she hissed. “Surrender, and you may yet survive that which is to come.”

“As a slave, trapped in her mind while a copy controls her body? Or, perhaps, an ornamental statue next to your own sister?” Luna retorted, her nostrils flaring angrily. “Forgive me, but such does not sound like a fate I would wish for myself, or any other.”

“Pity,” Celestia said, not sounding all that put out. “But so be it. If you will not surrender… then you will die.”

“If you think that task so easy, my corrupt sister,” Luna retorted, spreading her wings out in challenge, “then by all means. Come and try.”

Boston, Fenway Park, Checkpoint Beta.

Reports were coming in from everywhere. Some checkpoints had been totally overrun. Casualties weren’t just bad, they were horrific. Hundreds of troops had been killed (or worse, ponified) in action, and the enemy were steadily gaining ground, apart from being stalled around Checkpoints Theta and Delta. Checkpoint Bravo, meanwhile, was practically a blast zone, most of the infrastructure gone.

But the worst thing… the absolute worst… was that Cheerilee found herself coping. She took reports from Kellman and her other subordinates in stride, she handed out orders with all the ease of telling a class of students what their assignments were.

When did this become the new normal? she wondered to herself.

“Colonel!” Kellman called from a nearby tent.

Shaking her head, Cheerilee went over to him. “Lieutenant. What is it?”

“Call in from Checkpoint Delta, ma’am,” Kellman replied.

“Delta?” Cheerilee repeated. “That team reported in ten minutes ago, didn’t they? Something about having Twilight Sparkle prisoner?”

Oh, and hadn’t that been news to lighten the heart? Yet, somehow, Cheerilee couldn’t help but feel less than cheerful. If Twilight Sparkle was another victim of the Geas, then she would be difficult to free and even more difficult to talk down from whatever pain she would feel. And if she wasn’t…

…well, that didn’t bear thinking about.

“Yes ma’am,” Kellman confirmed. “Delta One is saying something about Luna and another Alicorn requesting assistance from our AA teams?”

Cheerilee blinked once, slowly, before taking a deep breath. “Alright. Put me on.”

Kellman passed her the radio and she grabbed it in one hoof, leaning against a tentpost slightly for balance.

“This is Lyre Three at Beta, report, over,” she began. As ever, she felt the tiniest twinge of mixed regret and bitterness at the callsign ‘Lyre Three’, the last remnant of the days when she, Lyra and Alex had been the top of the PHL. Now there was no Lyre One - even Alex was only Lyre Two.

Don’t think about it, she admonished herself.

“Lyre Three, this is Delta One,” came the voice of the team leader at Delta. David Elliot, wasn’t it? One of Munro’s people? It was always confusing when the call signs were Checkpoints and numbers, but then again Cheerilee couldn’t exactly complain, since she’d signed off on it like everyone else. “Relaying request for AA support from new friendlies, over.”

New friendlies, Cheerilee thought. Meaning Princess Luna, Discord, and this new Alicorn, whoever she is.

“Delta One, we have AA on the ground, specify where support needed, over,” she said.

“…that’s a negative, ma’am, new friendlies did not specify a target zone, over,” Delta One said.

Cheerilee took a deep breath. “Alright, Delta One, what do they need, over?”

“Not entirely sure, ma’am,” Delta One said. “Sounded like they were planning to hit her hard enough to give us a shot, but…”

“Colonel,” Kellman interrupted, “we’re tracking movement near Checkpoint Sigma.”

Sigma, eh? Cheerilee thought. That was over by the Arlington Street side of the gardens there.

“Delta One,” she said, “I am sending my troops to Checkpoint Sigma to deal with the Queen. Your orders are to hold your position and await extraction on your prisoner. Over.”

“Roger that, ma’am,” Delta One replied. “Delta One out.”

“Alright,” Cheerilee said, turning to Kellman. “Get Major Bauer on the horn and let him know what we’re doing. Then get onto the rest of our teams.”

“Yes ma’am,” Kellman said. He hesitated for a moment. “Do… do you want me to signal Wolf Hunter?”

Cheerilee paused. “I wasn’t told she was deployed here.”

“Merrick gave her special dispensation to operate in the city,” Kellman said quietly. “Given her skillset. And, uh, track record.”

Cheerilee sighed. “Of course he did.” She facehoofed, before looking back at Kellman. “Well, you’d better let her know. And… please tell her not to shoot the other Alicorns.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kellman said, giving her a wry smirk.

“I should join them as well,” another voice put in.

Cheerilee turned, to see Hiro Mifune there, he had his arms crossed, and looked… tired. He was still clad in his brown robe and battered Hardball armour.

“Mifune,” Cheerilee said. “I wasn’t aware you were on the TARDIS with us.”

“I can avoid being noticed if I wish,” he replied. He smirked, motioning to his katana. “A handy skill in my line of work.”

“I’ll just bet,” Cheerilee said, chuckling and shaking her head. “Suppose it explains how you get to wear that robe and not have people think you’re in cosplay.”

“No,” Mifune said. “I just don’t care when they ask.”

“And what do you suppose you'll be able to do?” Kellman asked.

Mifune lowered his arms. “We Mystics have been tapping into the fabric of things beyond since before the war began, and our abilities have only increased in potency since then.” He snorted. “I intend, Lieutenant Kellman, to help.”

Cheerilee waved a hoof to forestall Kellman’s inevitable retort.

“Alright,” she said. “Help, then. You’re not exactly in my chain of command for me to stop you.”

“True,” he retorted, “but it is worth making the request.” He inclined his head. “If you’ll excuse me.”

He set off at a jog in the direction of Checkpoint Sigma.

“Alright,” Cheerilee said to Kellman after a moment. “Let everyone know about him. Get onto Wolf Hunter. And while you’re at it, maybe get me in contact Yael and Kraber’s team, wherever the hell they are.”

“Uh, are you sure that’s wise, ma’am?” Kellman asked. “Kraber’s… well…”

Cheerilee gave Kellman an amused smile. “Two things, Becker. Firstly, we’re calling Wolf Hunter, and you’re worried about Kraber?”

“I’m worried about both of them, ma’am,” Kellman replied honestly. “I’ve got enough worry for all our lunatics.”

Cheerilee couldn’t help but laugh at that. “So are you telling me this is somehow not a time for maniacs with massive, Alicorn-killing guns?”

Kellman blinked, and then nodded. “Point… immediately taken, ma’am.”

“Anyway,” Cheerilee said, still smiling, “knowing Kraber, he’s already doing what he does best.”

Checkpoint Gamma, Copley Place

“BULLETS!” Kraber yelled, the MG2021 roaring and bucking in his hands.

The Solar Empire forces were pinned in the empty storefronts all over the former mall.

A newfoal pegasus fluttering near the shattered glass roof took a .308 round through the throat, and dropped like a lead zeppelin.

Kraber hadn’t shot that one. No, that’d been Yael, her enormous Galil spitting lead in semiauto.

Lekker shot, he thought.

There were eleven of them. Aegis, Yael Ze’ev, Heliotrope, Ambrose ‘Bro’ Walker, Lorne Hebert, Fiddlesticks, Oscar Mikkelsen, Johnny C, Quiette Shy, and Eva Nilsdottir. As a group, they had been through life and death together. They’d seen the fall of the EHS, braved the first battle of Montreal, stopped a coup, survived the Horror of Marblehead, and collectively gotten away with breaking a superior officer’s jaw.

That being said, they’d never been in a city with a Code Royal going on.

“Although,” Heliotrope had pointed out when they realised this, “no one else has either.”

“Where are you?! COME OUT AND FOKKIN’ FIGHT!” Kraber yelled.

Heliotrope flickered back into visibility. The wrist-mounted claws she wore plunged into a pony barking orders from behind a sunspear lens.

“CARROWAY, N-“

Heliotrope turned towards the Pegasus that’d yelled that. The silenced SMGs in her assault yokes snapped with fire, and the Pegasus crashed the ground in a tangle of shattered potion vials and broken limbs.

“COME OUT, JOU FOKKIN MANK GENAAIDE BERGBOK!” Kraber yelled. “NOT EVEN HERE WILL YOU BE SAFE FROM MY VENGEANCE!”

“She’s not out here, Viktor,” Yael said softly.

“How the FOK do you know?!” Kraber yelled back at her.

There was a moment of deathly silence, and then he turned away from her, shamefaced.

“I know how much it means to you to find her,” Yael said, still speaking gently. “Lord knows, we sat through your entire life story.”

“Just the interesting bits,” Aegis pointed out.

“Was there a slow-motion replay of Gardner getting punched in the face?” ‘Bro’ asked.

“Yes,” Heliotrope said.

“But she’s not out here, and we have a job to do,” Yael finished. “We should have been at that Code Backstabber at Point Delta half an hour ago!”

Kraber looked torn for a moment there. They all knew who was at Point Delta, and Kraber sure as hell hated letting a friend down (or indeed, leaving a friend in danger)…

…but she might still be out here, he thought.

“Gamma One, Lyre Three, do you copy, over?”

Yael sighed at Cheerilee’s voice coming through the radio. Kraber looked up at her and smirked.

“Paying the piper?” he asked quietly.

“We copy, Lyre Three,” Yael said tiredly, bringing a hand up to her earpiece and ignoring Kraber’s comment. “What’s going on out here? We had a suspected Code Party Pooper a few minutes ago.”

“Still unconfirmed, Gamma One, over,” Lyre Three said.

“Fokdammit!” Kraber swore under his breath. “I should have fokkin’ known.”

“We figured,” Yael said tiredly. “What’s the call, over?”

“Stand by to redirect your team to new positions,” Cheerilee replied. “We’ve got a plan in motion to take down our Code Royal, over.”

Kraber’s head perked up, his eyes widening.

“Say again, Lyre Three?” Yael said. “All after ‘plan in motion’, over.”

“The new arrivals seem to have a plan to take down the Queen,” Cheerilee replied. “Right now we’re getting every available AA-ready unit to standby for their move. We’re not sure where they’ll be yet, over.”

The new arrivals, Kraber thought.

“Uh, Gamma Three here,” he said into his own radio. “All respect, ma’am, are we sure it isn’t a trap? Uh, over?”

“Kraber, we don’t know anything yet for sure,” Cheerilee replied evenly. “But this is the best chance we’ve ever had. We can’t waste it. Over.”

Kraber sighed. “Right. Of course.” He scowled. “If you say so, boss. Over.”

“Don’t worry, none of us feel any better about it,” Cheerilee said. “Gamma One, you have your orders. Lyre Three out.”

Yael sighed, before giving Kraber a pointed look.

“If you’re gonna tell me I shouldn’t have interrupted, don’t bother, I know,” he said quietly. “I just… how do we know we can fokkin’ trust these… people? Ponies? Whatever the fok a Discord is?”

“Draconequus,” Aegis supplied helpfully.

“We don’t know, Viktor,” Yael said quietly. “All we know for sure is what we’ve been told to do, and that maybe - just maybe - it’ll make a difference.”

Kraber scowled, before nodding. “It fokkin’ better.” He patted his MG2021. “I’ve been waiting a long time to test this baby out on the Queen Bitch.”

“How did you even get approved for that?” Johnny C asked.

“I asked,” Kraber said. “Politely.”

Everyone stared at him.

“Really,” Bro said.

“No, really,” Aegis said. “I even gave Dovetail some Barrier Stock as thanks.”

“Did somebody or somepony bring popcorn?” Heliotrope added. “I feel like this will need popcorn.”

“No jokes, chommies,” Kraber said softly. “Today we’re gonna fokkin’ win the war.” He grinned. “I’m taking this one hundred percent fokkin’ seriously. If my default setting has been ‘half-assed,’ imagine that a giant hand has turned my dial from half-assed to quadruple ass.”

“God help us all,” Yael muttered.

Checkpoint Iota, St James Avenue.

“This is Beta One calling Wolf Hunter, come in, over.”

“This is Wolf Hunter,” a lone female soldier said, her voice croaky from lack of use, “I copy you, Beta One. Over.”

“What’s your sitrep, over?”

“Old North Church secured. I’m now at Checkpoint Iota. Targets spotted, moving to engage, over.”

“Roger that, Wolf Hunter,” Beta One replied. “When enemy force is eliminated, standby to move to new position and await new orders, over.”

Wolf Hunter reacted to this with a roll of her eyes. “Copy that, Beta One. Wolf Hunter out.”

Well that's just typical, Wolf Hunter thought, just absolutely typical.

Today was already not what she would have wanted. The reports of the arrivals at Checkpoint Bravo had reached her hours ago, and while the sudden appearance of the… thing was a surprise, to say nothing of its build and physical features, it was not Maxine’s focus.

No, that went towards the familiar black-clad Alicorn, whom best matched the description of the petrified and captured former Equestrian princess, Luna. Not to mention, of course, the unknown grey Alicorn, who matched nothing she had ever read (both within her security clearance and beyond it). Neither of the new arrivals, or their mismatched compatriot, had made any secret of their presence. She had even glimpsed them in the sky, fighting Celestia.

And let’s not forget the Code Royal, she thought, scowling,

There could be any number of possibilities surrounding this sudden appearance. This late into the war, Equestria or perhaps the PER could create almost anything to try and gain a permanent advantage apart from the obvious. Or this could be the Equestrian Resistance. Even after all the Newfoal variants, various serum weapons and aircrafts, or traitors hunted, they wouldn’t stop. Not until they took everything.

Wolf Hunter exhaled, lowering her modified Dragunov sniper rifle before rubbing her eyes.

“Keep it together,” she whispered to herself, “it’s just another trick. Another tactic. You can still make them pay.” Wolf Hunter shivered slightly, before focusing herself. “Still make them pay.”

She brought her rifle back to bear and re-adjusted the scope.

“I will make you pay.”

The words came out once again, but came this time as they should, a solemn oath. Her solemn oath since the shock left her after that day.

Washington crumbling, people panicking in terror and fear as it all fell down. The front door open as the sounds of something happened. Going inside to find -

Damn them. Damn them all for what they had done.

Maxine Radwick kept her focus firmly on the battle, despite the tear in her eye.

For someone needed to make them pay.

Somewhere…

“Copy that, Lyre Three,” Stephan Bauer said into his radio. “I’ll expedite my arrival there… presently.”

That might have been the best way to describe how long it would take, given where he currently was.

Doctor Bowman had rarely ever allowed anyone from UNAC or the PHL into his ship, and it had become even rarer since the EHS debacle, so it was interesting to see the differences between this space and Doctor Whooves’ TARDIS. The expansive walls of this control room were corrugated, textured almost like concrete. Interspersed in the dips were a series of faintly golden roundels, each shining in the dim lighting of the room. There were chairs, and a coat rack in one corner, as well as a well-concealed door to another part of the TARDIS.

At the centre of the room was a six-sided console that looked like it had been hewn from stone, covered in blinking lights, switches and buttons. A crystalline globe was cradled in the console, flickering with inner light. It was here that Doctor Bowman was controlling the flight of his craft.

“Interesting choice of words,” he said, glancing up at Bauer. “‘Presently’. We could be quite a while finding the right point.”

“That’s not reassuring, Bowman,” Bauer said evenly. “You can control this thing, right?”

“Of course I can.” Bowman punctuated this comment by smacking the console, which made an odd bleeping sound. “Mostly.”

“Still not feeling reassured,” Bauer said evenly. “Like, at all.”

“Just keep on your toes, Major,” Bowman said, moving to the other side of his console. He paused, looking up at Bauer’s armour. “Does that stuff have shock absorbers?”

“Uh, some?” Bauer replied, frowning. “Why?”

“Oh, it didn’t last time I did this is all,” Bowman replied, flipping another switch. “Good to know.”

Bauer sighed. “Still not feeling reassured.”

Checkpoint Sigma, Arlington Street.

Chick Pea, a blue Earth Pony stallion in the PHL’s main regiment, frowned as he heard the smashing of buildings like heavy ordnance was going off.

He and his team were trying to pull out, but it wasn't going as well as he would have liked. His sergeant, a short-haired human man named Gates, was yelling and gesturing for his team to move. They probably wouldn't have long before the enemy got here.

The numbers of Newfoals that they'd been fighting seemed to be thinning - ever so slightly - but ammo was low, and they were cut off from headquarters. Newfoals on both sides, trampling the corpses of their fallen compatriots, rushing for the humans. And worse, the city seemed to be exploding around them.

He tried to think positively: he might survive. Hell, he and his compatriots might even die.

Still better than surviving and being taken back.

“Sir!” he yelled to the man. “Those crashes are getting closer!”

“I heard them!” Gates yelled back. “Crowe, Fulton, get moving!”

Chick Pea looked back in the direction of the crashes. He could tell that they'd get here before the soldiers would have a chance to pull out. He tensed…

…and suddenly, a grey Alicorn and a creature that looked suspiciously like Discord appeared right in front of him in a flash. The creature - yup, that was Discord - immediately turned and floated up into the sky, hovering about five feet off the ground and staring directly at the source of the noise, which was getting closer.

“I’d say we have about a minute, Galway Girl,” he said.

“Very well,” the Alicorn said quietly. “Can you move these soldiers?”

Discord turned and threw a glance at the squad - Chick Pea's squad was only one of a few teams in the area. The Draconequus frowned.

“Not likely,” he said after a moment, frowning. “Lots of them, and they're all moving too much. Hard to get a lock on all of them. Even if I did, it'd take a lot of effort - I'm not a limitless store of magic you know. This is taking a lot out of me…”

He seemed winded for a second.

“Damnation,” the Alicorn said, shaking her head. She looked down at Chick Pea with a vaguely imperious expression that made him quail in his hooves. “Who is your commander, little pony?”

“Hey!” Gates yelled, jogging up to the two of them with a scowl on his face. “What the fuck is this? Who the fuck are you?!”

“I am Galatea, and this is Discord, the Lord of Chaos,” the Alicorn replied bluntly. “Problem?”

“Yeah, there’s a damn problem!” Gates yelled. “Who the fuck are you?!”

Galatea sighed. “At present, I am your ally. Queen Celestia is in this city, and myself and Discord are perhaps the only hope you have of stopping her.”

“I heard the Code Royal,” Gates said, scowling. “But how do I know -”

There was a sound like crashing thunder in the distance. Chick Pea looked up, and for a moment he could have sworn he saw -

Celestia.

She was grappling in mid-air with another Alicorn, one who looked almost exactly like Princess Luna, save for the fact that she obviously wasn’t stone.

“Shit,” he swore softly. He was vaguely aware of a sudden building pool of liquid at his hooves, but he didn't care.

Gates didn’t look any happier. “What in the name of -”

“Explanations will come if we all survive,” Galatea said, cutting Gates off. “Right now, there are more pressing matters.” She turned to Discord. “Can you help Luna slow her arrival?”

“Maybe,” the Draconequus said. “Doesn’t tell us what to do next.”

“Just do it,” Galatea said scathingly.

Discord rolled his eyes. “Fine, Galway Girl. This better work.”

He brought his clawed hand up, aimed it at the two Alicorns, and snapped his fingers. There was a flash, and Celestia was blown backwards, through another building. The other Alicorn streaked after her, and Discord snapped his clawed fingers, vanishing in a flash.

Galatea turned to look at Gates, who was gawping slightly.

“You should move you men promptly,” she said quietly. “Queen Celestia will be coming here. Somehow, I doubt you’re equipped to survive the battle.”

“Fuck,” Gates swore. “Yeah, yeah… Chick Pea, let's get moving!”

Chick Pea didn't need telling twice, immediately turning tail and moving out as fast as he could without looking like he was running.

He decided against that a moment later, and just started galloping down the street towards somewhere safer.

Luna grimaced as she blocked another spell from the Queen, her shield dissipating into fragments of power. She had spent the last few minutes pounding the false Celestia with just about every spell she could think, but it was all she could do to keep her corrupted sister off-balance for even a moment.

Unfortunately, her sister’s alternate was equally capable of keeping her off-balance. The Queen sent a pair of spells Luna’s way, and she was forced to raise her own shield. Even as one spell dissipated her shield, a second hit her and sent her spinning through the air, smoke billowing from a burn on her flank that had seared part of her cutie mark. She grimaced in pain, and threw another spell at Celestia in return.

“Is this all you’ve got?!” Queen Celestia called out. “I’m impressed, but you’ve no chance of stopping me with this power!”

“You only say that because you know I do,” Luna hissed.

The Queen laughed coldly at that.

“Well, aren’t you optimistic,” she said. “You know, I really miss that.” Something akin to sadness crossed her face for a moment. “I wish you could join me, Little Moon. It has been ever-so lonely.”

“I could never support what you have done,” Luna retorted. “I have seen but glimpses of what horror you visited upon these beings, and it is more than I needed.”

“I understand your resolve,” Celestia said, and she smiled again. “Which is why I will allow you the dignified death you wish for.”

Her tone, so close to Celestia’s true loving voice and yet tinged with just enough mockery to our lie to it, set Luna’s temper blazing anew.

“Only if you don’t die first!” she yelled.

A final, massive spell shot out of her horn and blasted Celestia into the ground, where she made a massive crater in the concrete. Luna breathed heavily, but she knew that wouldn’t hold the Queen for long. She drew in another deep breath, preparing another attack -

Only for Discord to flash into existence right in front of her and grab her.

“Yoink!” he said with a grin, before teleporting them both somewhere else.

It seemed to be another of this city’s many streets, right next to a beautiful piece of parkland… or at least it might have been beautiful, once. Now the trees were cracked and broken.

“Damnation!” Luna scowled, angry. “I could have had her!”

“Really though, you couldn’t,” Discord said tiredly. “Take it from me, that whorse takes a lot more to kill. Though props for not dying, eh?”

Luna snorted and said nothing else.

“Enough bickering,” Galatea said quietly. “We’ve got to move quickly. Unless the two of you have a plan I should be aware of?”

Discord shrugged. “Got me there. I'm not a ‘plan’ type of Draconequus.”

“Very well,” Luna said, shaking her head. “Then what do you have?”

“It’s simple,” Galatea said. “We are here. Doubtless our coming is what attracted Celestia here to begin with, and that is our advantage.”

“It is?” Luna asked. “How?”

“No, I see where you’re coming from,” Discord said. “This Celly's crazy, but that doesn’t mean she’s stupid. She has to realise that we’re the big threat here.”

“Then she might wish to avoid further conflict with us,” Luna countered. “Especially all grouped as one, working together.”

“No,” Galatea said softly. “Avoidance will not be her plan. She will wish to end us. From what I learned from mine alternate self, she destroyed her world’s Discord and other threats with relative ease.” Galatea’s expression shifted, becoming oddly amused. “And certainly, she ended mine alternate self with ease. I suspect she’ll wish to repeat the accomplishment.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Gallows humour,” Galatea said after a moment.

“We got it, thanks,” Luna said icily. “So what exactly is the next part of our plan, Galatea?”

“Unfortunately, it is reliant on the human and pony forces fighting in this city,” Galatea said quietly.

“We’re dead,” Discord said at once.

Galatea gave him a withering glare, and he dutifully zipped his mouth shut.

“The plan,” she began again, “is hammer and anvil. The humans have weapons they’ve been experimenting with.” She looked at Discord. “Weapons designed to kill an Alicorn.”

“The ones Elliot mentioned?” Luna asked.

“Precisely,” Galatea confirmed.

Discord unzipped himself. “Well, well. Enterprising little bipedal species, aren’t they?”

“Quite,” Galatea said, though her mouth twisted into a dubious expression. “Much as I do not wish to rely on such, if we act as an anvil here, there is a good chance they will be able to act as a hammer and strike her down.”

“This may fail miserably,” Luna pointed out grimly. “If the humans’ weapons are not effective, we will be stuck - an anvil with no hammer, as it were. Then what hope will there be?”

“At which point we shall have to improvise,” Galatea retorted. “But we have very few choices, and far less time.” She paused for a moment, before smiling. “It is, as they say, ‘do or die’.”

“Well, fine,” Discord said, cracking his knuckles. “Since that’s the plan. How do we play anvil?”

“She will come for us here,” Galatea said. “We must do everything we can to keep her here. Find a spot to lie in ambush - she will come soon.”

Luna nodded, before closing her eyes and melting into the shadows.

Hiding in the dark, she thought grimly, has always been my speciality.

“You as well, Discord,” Galatea said quietly. “She will most likely strike when we are separated. She may be no coward, but she is also no fool.”

“If you say so, Galway Girl,” Discord replied, looking unsure. “For what it’s worth, though, I think there’s something major-league screwy about her.”

“I agree,” Galatea said, smiling wryly. “Let us hope we live long enough to learn what.”

Discord sighed, then snapped a claw and disappeared in a flash, leaving Galatea alone for the moment.

Do you see me, Galatea? she wondered. Do you see me act in your stead, as your world’s sentinel? She paused, looking up at the sky. Do you see me, mother? In this, I act as your instrument, as you intended. Yet I cannot believe you ever expected me to be an instrument of violence against mine own sister.

So much about this still did not add up. There was magic at work Galatea did not know, and that… that was concerning.

Still, she could not help it now. There was a battle yet to fight. A battle she had to win.

A battle she was destined for.

Jed: Whoo! Big battle scenes! Epic action! Writing more than 6,000 words!

Okay, deep breath. Welcome to the first chapter that’s been posted of Spectrum: Redux since the rebranding! You might have noticed - if you’re like me and reread chapters of stories that haven’t updated in a while - that every chapter has had the new title edited in. This one’s the first to bear the title ‘Writing Team’ for me and the guys helping me, however.

When I initially started this story, I treated it like a personal vanity project, which frankly led to a very great deal of dissatisfaction on my part, because I always treated it like it wasn’t “real”. The rebranding, as well as the coalescing of a greater “Reduxverse” around it as its own take on the Spectrumverse, has solved a lot of that. It also marks a very important change: this isn’t just my one-man vision anymore, and that’s reflected, I hope, not just by the superficial changes, but by the whole thing.

Anyway, heavy stuff aside, this was fun, I enjoyed it, and it’s not over yet.

Take care all. I’ll see you in the next chapter 😉

TheIdiot: So, my presence here may be a bit confusing, but there’s a reason for it. If someone is going to do a spin-off/take on the story you’re head author of, then it’s best to have a measure of involvement. Plus, Jed R asked me to help oversee the “Reduxverse” he’s made. Thus, it made sense to take part that way things would run well for both SPECTRUM and Jed R’s “Reduxverse” without anything going screwy.

So far, I’d say it’s going well. And my hope remains that in the future, both works will stand together as siblings. Either can be loved on their respective merits. Ultimately, we’ll all have to wait and see what happens next.

In any event,

Carpe diem, everyone.

“In real life, it is always the anvil that breaks the hammer.”
George Orwell.

Checkpoint Delta.

It was quiet. Not too quiet, of course, but quiet enough to notice that. The enemy had sent a few forays their way, but so far the combined forces of their team and Yarrow’s HLF troops had managed to see them off. Which at least meant that Emma could keep herself from panicking too much.

“Hey, newbie,” Sam Lake said from next to her. “You alright? You’ve been pretty quiet.”

Emma smiled. “Yeah. Fine. Just…” She let out a weak chuckle. “Hell of a first day, innit?”

“Can say that again,” Lake said, sighing. “Alicorns, plural, and this… bitch.”

He motioned to the still-unconscious Twilight Sparkle. She was breathing calmly, looking for all the world like she was sleeping in binders rather than knocked out. Just seeing her here was… unsettling.

No, not just unsettling – downright disturbing.

“I’m going to step out and see if Dave needs anything,” Lake said after a moment. He put his helmet on. “Do you need anything?”

“N-no,” Emma said, waving a hand airily. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

“No problem,” Lake said, waving. “Gi’us a shout if you need owt.”

Emma laughed. “Sure thing.”

Lake walked out of the prefab, and Emma let out a deep sigh, wondering why she felt so… on edge.

As he walked out, he passed Samantha Yarrow. She had her helmet off again, so the enemy must not have been active for a while.

“Sam,” he said with a smirk.

“Sam,” she retorted with her trademark smile. “How’s our guest?”

“Sleeping comfortably,” Lake replies, glancing back at Sparkle. “Have a nosey if you like. Not every day UNAC captures Lady Sparkle.”

“Nope,” Yarrow agreed, chuckling weakly. “It’s one of those things, isn’t it? Never thought we’d see the day.”

She walked up, past Emma, to look at the unconscious Unicorn with a critical expression on her face.

“They never look that dangerous unconscious,” she said after a moment. “Fucked up how this is a ‘magic herbivore race’ that’s supposed to be all about peace and friendship. but they’re still waging war.”

“I dunno, you haven’t seen Errant Flight drunk,” Lake pointed out. “That guy’s about as peaceful and friendly as a drunk Scottish bear who’s just been punched in the dick.”

Emma snorted involuntarily, and Yarrow and Lake both looked at her. She blushed, and looked away.

“Anyway,” Lake said after a moment. “I’d better get out there. They’ll get it all wrong without me.”

Yarrow laughed again as Lake walked out of the prefab. Emma looked away from her, suddenly finding her HV-Penetrator much more interesting (Ooh, where did that scratch come from?).

Yarrow turned back to look at the unconscious Twilight Sparkle.

“Damn,” Yarrow said after a moment, before shaking her head, turning away from the unconscious mare… and looking directly at Emma.

Emma swallowed, smiling at Yarrow a little nervously.

“Emma,” Yarrow said quietly, leaning against the side of the prefab. There was a long pause, before she finally spoke again. “Hi.”

“Hi, Sam,” Emma replied immediately. “Uh, that is, Officer Yarrow.”

“No, you can call me Sam,” Yarrow said, smiling at her. “It’s not been that long.”

Nearly three years, Sam, Emma though, but she said nothing.

“Didn’t really expect to see you here,” Yarrow said after a moment. “Y’know, on the front. You were always a lab kinda weapons girl.”

“Well, we all go where we’re sent,” Emma replied with a bright smile. “Apart from… y’know, you, because you go where you send yourself.”

Yarrow chuckled. “I guess I do at that.” She paused. “Look, I wanted to say… I’m sorry about what happened.” She scratched the back of her neck awkwardly. “Striker and that.”

Emma’s smile faded. “I… yeah, I guess that was something of a shitshow, wasn’t it? But hey, you went from being some R&D expert to being the second in command of a whole army, so…”

“Yeah,” Yarrow chuckled. “Always sounds better when you put it like that.”

Emma smiled again briefly, but it was only fleeting.

“I was sorry to hear about your Dad,” she said quietly. “He was… one of the good ones.”

“Yeah,” Yarrow said, her expression becoming unreadable.

“Did…” Emma began, but thought better of it.

“What?” Yarrow asked, frowning.

“Nothing,” Emma said, smiling. “Forget I said anything.”

“No, tell me,” Yarrow insisted, still frowning. “You wanted to ask something?”

Emma swallowed. “Did you think it was me?”

“Did I think…” Yarrow repeated. “You mean the bombing?”

Emma nodded. A little while after Yarrow had left R&D (and ended her service as any kind of liaison to the PHL), there was an incident. All Emma knew about it was that members of the Reavers had been killed by a bomb planted in an R&D drop.

“No,” Yarrow said after a moment, “I didn’t.” She snorted. “The first people I thought of were Gardner or Striker, neither of whom were the one, in the end.”

“Oh,” Emma said. “Who… who was it?”

Yarrow wet her lips. “Classified. Sorry.”

Emma laughed. “Are you serious?”

Yarrow shrugged. “It’s amazing the shit we have to keep secret these days.”

Emma was still chuckling. She felt… lighter. Overcome by the absurdity of the whole thing, she couldn’t help but be amused.

“Glad you’re both so happy,” a groggy voice cut in. Yarrow’s expression dropped, and Emma turned in shock.

Twilight Sparkle was awake, glaring at them both. Her horn and legs were still cuffed, but she was struggling to sit herself up.

“I suppose you’re happy,” she said after a moment. “You’ve got me prisoner. You probably think that’s a victory, don’t you?”

“Seems like one to me,” Yarrow said with a snort.

“I’m sure it does,” Sparkle said. She narrowed her eyes. “You’re going to die. All of you. You won’t even be granted Celestia’s light: you’ve all already forsaken that mercy.”

“Joy,” Emma snorted. “No offence, love, but I think everyone and their mother would prefer death to your Queen bitch’s ‘Mercy’.”

Sparkle winced at the swearing, and turned her head away.

“I’m only sorry I won’t see it,” she finally said. “It would have been a joy to witness.”

“Learn to live with disappointment, Sparkle,” Yarrow said coldly. “‘Cos today’s just the first of a whole bunch. I promise you that.”

Sparkle only chuckled weakly.

“A friendship lesson I learned a long time ago,” she said, “was not to make promises you can’t keep.”

Checkpoint Sigma.

Queen Celestia floated slowly to the ground, smiling as she took in Galatea. Her wings were spread out in a gesture of challenge, and her horn was already glowing, ready for battle. Galatea was on the ground, her own wings tightly tucked to her body.

“Celestia,” she said evenly. “Now we shall end this.”

“Galatea, secret sister, Mother dearest’s watchmare,” Queen Celestia replied, tilting her head. “Didn’t I kill you already?”

Galatea didn’t dignify that with a reply.

“Oh, wait,” the Queen continued, grinning maniacally. “That was the other you, wasn’t it?” She giggled. “So many worlds to keep track of these days! How does one keep it straight? Why, my head’s all a-daze at the thought of having more than one of everypony running around!”

“You have fallen far from the path laid out for you,” Galatea said, ignoring the maddened gibbering of the corrupted Alicorn. “Stand down and prepare to suffer the duly appointed judgement.”

“Ah, of course, because naturally I’m going to surrender my Empire and give in to the plans of a long vanished mythical mare and her puppet,” Celestia retorted. “Tell me, because I’ve been dying to know since I killed you – do you even have an independent thought up there, or is it all some sort of programming?”

Galatea smiled. “We do only what we’re meant to do.”

“Ah, so you are meant for the meaningless death that awaits you?” Celestia asked, giggling maniacally. “Is that what you truly believe?”

Galatea was still smiling. “Oh. Not at all.”

And then a pair of shimmering blue blades smashed through a nearby wall – one cut across Celestia’s mane and back, carving a deep wound into her back and shearing half her mane clean off, and another cut through the back of one of her legs. Screaming, she fell to one knee.

Luna stepped out of the shadows, and then Galatea stepped forward, her horn glowing before she blasted the wounded Celestia backwards.

“You should have surrendered, Celestia,” she said, throwing another spell – only for a glimmering golden shield to materialise around the corrupt Alicorn as she got to her feet, a snarl on her face.

“So should you, watchmare,” she replied, before charging.

Checkpoint Eta, Belvidere Street.

“Pull out! Pull out!”

The Equestrian forces were falling back towards their positions across the Harvard bridge. Walking silently, Hiro Mifune moved through the ruins of streets and cars, eyes narrowed as he watched a squadron of Imperial Guard retreating through the streets. If he were fortunate, none would notice his movement through the city’s streets en route to the battle against the Queen.

He crouched behind the wreck of a burnt out Mini, briefly poking his head out to see the situation. A group of Imperial ponies, some four or five, were standing around a group of other ponies… all of whom were in PHL colours. There were also a handful of ponies, maybe three or four, with no armour – blank-flanked Newfoals, no doubt the PHL ponies’ erstwhile colleagues.

“Do we have time to take these traitors back?” one of the Guardsponies was saying. “Shouldn’t we just… I hate to say it, but wouldn’t it be easier to kill them?”

“We don’t kill these traitors if we can capture them alive,” another Guardspony said. “We’ll take them home. Recondition them. Make them better.”

“But the enemy is moving back in, we don’t have time to bring them,” the first Guard said. “They’ll slow us down, and then none of us will make it back, them or us!”

“Go ahead,” one of the PHL said. “Kill us. We’d prefer it to going back!”

“Nopony asked you, traitor!” the second Guard snapped. “You’re compromised. You’d be better off coming home with us.”

“Equestria’s nopony’s home while the Queen’s alive!” another of the PHL, an older stallion. said.

As if by some sudden impulse, the first Guardspony brought up a spear and ran it through that pony’s leg. The stallion let out a cry of agony.

“Quiet!” the Guard said. “Her Majesty’s mercy is the only reason you’re still alive!”

Mifune could watch no further. Gripping the hilt of his katana, he stepped out from cover.

“Ponies of Equestria,” he said sternly. “Face me!”

The Guardsponies turned, but Hiro was already moving towards them. Fortunately, there seemed to be only one Unicorn, so Hiro made a beeline straight for him, running his sword through the weak point in his chest armour.

“Sergeant!” one of the ponies called, but Hiro was already moving.

None of the ponies had potion bottles on them – doubtless used already on the Newfoals that already moved to surround him. Bringing his sword up into a high-guard stance, Hiro charged the unarmoured Newfoals first, slicing left and right. From experience, he knew that Newfoals needed to be put down quickly, or they would continue to fight: Mifune had seen a Newfoal continue to fight even with two legs blasted off, the pitiful thing crawling down a street, dragging what was left of itself along.

The Newfoals were, unfortunately for them, still too new to react fast enough to stop him. Cleaving through chests and necks, Mifune cut them down in moments, his sword stained by the deep red of their blood. That done, Mifune turned, onto just dodging the slice of a Pegasus sword. With a grimace, he lashed out, knocking the sword from the Pegasus’ grip before slicing through his throat. An Earth Pony ran at him, but Mifune hacked downwards into his shoulder and cut him down with ease.

Another Pegasus had flown upward, but with no method of ranged attack, the stallion was stuck for the moment.

“You human bucker!” another of the Guards, another Earth Pony, said, bringing up a spear. “You’re not worth saving!”

“All life is worth saving,” Mifune retorted, lowering his sword into a mid-guard. “I am sorry that I cannot save yours. But fate has dictated that we meet as foes.”

The pony snarled, before charging at him. Mifune sidestepped the charge, his sword raking across the pony’s side. With a cry of agony, the Earth Pony fell to the floor.

“Hey, human!” the Pegasus from above bellowed. Mifune turned, only to be knocked off his feet by a swooping flight.

Grimacing in pain, Mifune rolled, avoiding the stamping hooves of the Pegasus as the pony tried to crush him, before leaping to his feet, bringing his sword up and impaling the pony where he stood. There was a moment where the Pegasus looked down at the sword in his chest, before meeting Mifune’s eyes.

“Oh,” he said, before stepping back, off of Mifune’s katana, and falling to the floor.

There was only one Guard left, an Earth Pony who had been hanging back. He drew a sword and levelled it at Mifune.

“Let’s do this, human,” he said. “I’m ready to die. Are you?”

Mifune brought his sword up in a salute.

“Not until my task is done,” he replied, smiling.

He brought one hand out, palm outstretched, and suddenly a light flared from it. The Earth Pony stepped back, but a sudden ring of golden energy surrounded him, before bolts of light shot from it, slamming into him from all sides. The Earth Pony let out a series of frightened yelps, and then fell to the floor, smoke rising from a dozen impact points.

With that, Mifune turned to the PHL ponies. He let out a breath and staggered slightly, winded from the effort of the spell.

“Thank Luna you saved us!” the injured older stallion said.

“I’ve never seen a human do that – was that some R&D stuff or what?” a young Pegasus stallion in a Kevlar vest, jet-black with a silver mane and a pair of Aces for a cutie mark, exclaimed.

“Blackjack, you know if it is he won’t be able to tell us,” the older stallion said. He smiled gratefully at Mifune. “I don’t know what we’d have done if they dragged us back…”

“You would have persevered bravely, as you did here,” Mifune replied reassuringly. He looked around. “Are any more of you wounded?”

“Bumps and scrapes,” Blackjack said, smiling. “Nothin’ we can’t walk off, even with Old Timer here.”

Mifune chuckled. “If you say so. Make your way to Checkpoint Beta at Fenway Park and tell a Lieutenant Kellman that Hiro Mifune sent you.”

“Will do, sir,” the young Pegasus said. “And, uh, thanks for the assist.”

Mifune nodded, before continuing on his way. There was still, after all, a Queen to fight.

Checkpoint Iota.

“Look sharp!” barked Corporal Red Shift, as he and his fire-team moved spread out into a perimeter around Langone Park. “We gotta keep a tight vigil!”

Two traitor Alicorns and a reappearance by the creature Discord (does nothing stay dead in this war?!) was a frightening development in an already fraught conflict, but Captain Timber’s instructions had been clear. Every inch they could deny the enemy was worth its weight in crystal. And there wasn’t just her to protect the site from. Given how active this city was? They had to hurry.

For Captain Armor, for the Archmage, for Equestria.

Besides, I may get a promotion, Shift thought, stopping to signal his fire-team to take cover. To think, this place was home once.

Shift had been in Boston before. Back before the war even started. He’d happened upon this city while traveling across America’s Eastern Seaboard. Funnily enough, it was the history that had got him interested. Parts of that history even seemed to mirror the Griffon Empire.

Griffonstone. Not the most picturesque of places, at least before the Restoration. But still, there had always been something special about griffons for neighbors, a stone’s throw across the sea from dear Fillydelphia...

Maybe we could save some of it, Shift thought, motioning for halt a moment, before nodding at his fire-team to resume their pursuit. Maybe as a display of man’s wasted potential. Their failures in the aftermath of war. It would be educational, at least. Besides, erasing everything would probably doom us to repeating it, or -

“Lost visual, sir!” called out one of his team, an Earth Pony stallion, shaking Red Shift out of his thoughts.

“What was that, Private?”

“We’ve lost visual, sir,” the soldier repeated. The team closed formation without command, as their training had dictated.

Red Shift focused himself. He and his closest units were currently situated on a street named Stuart Street. He needed to act quickly before anything else might happen. Especially seeing how reconnaissance stated the HLF still held ground in this part of the city.

And I’m not keen on getting tortured…

Red Shift turned to another private, a unicorn. “Private Cosmos, use a compass spell to get us back on track. We need to regain visual immediately.”

“Yes, sir,” Cosmos said, closing his eyes to ready his horn and cast the spell.

However, it was then that the coat on Red Shift’s back began to stick up.

Something’s wrong.

His eyes began to itch as he searched for what his sixth sense was yelling at him.

“Sir?” the Earth Pony private said.

“On your guard, all of you,” Red Shift replied, still looking.

“Sir?”

“We’re not alone!” Red Shift snapped, his team understanding immediately and now looking for themselves while Cosmos continued working on his spell.

The threat had to be around here somewhere–

What was that?

Something landed near his hooves. Looking down, Shift saw something that made him freeze. He’d been briefed about human explosives. Despite their small size, “green-aids” (or something like that) were deadly and came in all kinds of variants.

It was little wonder the Bearer of Laughter had tried her own spin on it.

If Red Shift had a moment, he could have ordered his team to take cover. Or ordered Cosmos to try and contain it. Or dived for it and tried to shield his team from the attack. Or -

“Aaaahhhh!”

They all screamed as soon as it went off. Except what erupted from the small device wasn’t a conflagration or blades or needles. No, what instead resulted was a bang that left the entire fire team blind, deaf and disoriented.

What Red Shift had forgotten was that there was a type of “green-aid” that humanity developed that wasn’t deadly. No, this explosive was known as a “flashbang”, employed to disorient and confuse its victims.

Had this been a flashbang, Shift’s team would have had a chance at recovery within a minute if they were lucky, with only a terrible ringing noise in their ears for some time after.

Unfortunately for them, this wasn’t a flashbang, or rather, it was a different take on the concept – one they could never have known about. UNAC had commissioned the PHL R&D for a type of explosive that would disorient enemy troops only. And since Equestrians were known to have magic, in theory, it shouldn’t be difficult to create a type of flashbang that would disorient them by screwing with their magic.

Of course, the problem there was how to avoid ‘friendly fire’ on allied Equestrians. The very existence of PHL R&D owed itself to this not being a mere war of the races. So when that little hurdle had proven harder to overcome than expected, the anti-magic flashbang had never gone beyond prototype stage.

Unfortunately for Red Shift and his team, their assailant had no qualms about indiscriminately using such in the field, and did have the contacts to obtain a few.

Wh-what… Red Shift thought, struggling to open his eyes. His head was killing him. What w-was -

There was a dull sound in the distance. He couldn’t make it out…

N-Need… N-Need to… Thoughts were struggling to come forward, except they weren’t quite his thoughts. Need to… check on my – finish the – no, no. I need to…

Another dull sound. Still so far away, but it was closer this time.

We’re… Red Shift struggled to push himself up. Why c-can’t I think…?

Another dull sound, but it was starting to get clearer. Maybe his ears were working after all. Now if only his head wasn’t killing him…

What…? Red Shift thought as he began to finally find himself.

He was still in the middle of Stuart Street, in the human city of Boston. His snout was bleeding, his head was killing him and it was hard to think. And his team -

CRACK.

The sound shocked him awake, at least as awake as he could be right now.

“Make them pay,” a voice whispered, “gotta make them pay.”

Finish the – Who’s there? Shift thought with some difficulty as he forced himself to look towards his team–

“My team,” Red Shift whispered, as he saw all four of his comrades. Dead.

CRACK.

And the one responsible had just finished shooting Cosmos in the head, using what he recognized as a high-powered rifle. The attacker was dressed in military fatigues, including a blue helmet with the letters ‘UN’ marked in white on the front. A couple strands of golden hair hung loose under the rim of the helmet.

“Y-You…” he whispered. “What did you…”

Standing over Cosmos’ dead body, the human figure glanced at him, making him freeze at what he saw. It was her eyes. Cold, unfeeling, dead green eyes whose light had been long since snuffed out by a great and terrible pain. A pain that still ached.

Red Shift could tell everything about this human female by just one look. And it wasn’t her own people that had done this to her. No, the look in her eyes, aimed squarely at him and the dead in his team, told of a hatred destined only for them.

Had they done this? Were they the ones responsible for her pain?

Why… Realization began to consume him, before he felt himself drowning in horror. We’re doing this. We’ve done this to them. All of them. We… we’re Chrysalis. We’re Sombra. We’re Kontagion, we –

“What, who -” the words came out of his mouth clumsily. She glowered at him.

“Die curious.”

Red Shift couldn’t say anything. There wasn’t time to even try and face penance for all that they had done. All he could do was what he and most of Equestria had been doing for years.

Just close his eyes, and -

CRACK.

Celestia’s horn flared again, and Luna found herself spinning out of control, before slamming into… a trampoline. She blew a stray bit of mane out of her face, and looked, to see Discord winking at her, before he snapped his claw – and suddenly, he was above Celestia’s head. Before she could react or even register his presence, he had summoned a giant polo mallet and slammed it into her skull, before bringing it down on top of her with a mighty crack. She pelted toward the ground, just in time for him to be waiting for her with another swing of his mallet, sending her back up, where Galatea was floating in wait.

“Fire of Creation,” the grey Alicorn whispered as Celestia reached her.

“Oh, you canny wh -”

Celestia’s insult was cut short by a flash of fiery orange energy that lashed out, slamming into her and bearing her through a nearby building. There was a great smashing of masonry, and for a moment all was still.

Discord flashed into existence next to Galatea.

“Well,” he said, “this seems to be going we-”

Before he could finish the sentence, a spell slammed into his back, throwing him through the building Celestia had just been sent flying through. Celestia floated down slowly from above where he had been, a cruel smirk on her face.

“Really, watchmare,” she said. “I know our mother dearest didn’t stick around long enough to teach you anything, but you’re an Alicorn. Try harder.”

Galatea’s eyes narrowed. “If you insist, sister.”

She suddenly disappeared in a flash, before reappearing behind Celestia. Her horn glowing with white energy that split into six different balls of magic, before each exploded into a dozen beams that impacted Celestia. She let out a tortured screech, before a shockwave of golden energy expanded from her horn, dissipating Galatea’s attack.

“At least I know that the Fausticorn bitch didn’t scrimp on giving you the power to enforce her stupid plan,” she hissed. “That is nice to know, but it still won’t save you!”

Her horn glowed again, but before she could do anything else, another spell hit her and threw her through the air. She stopped, her wings spreading outward, and found herself facing Luna, who was grinning viciously, her horn glowing.

“Is that it, Little Moon?” the Queen asked coyly. “Don’t you have anything else?”

“Oh, I’ve plenty left in me,” Luna said in reply. “I’m just waiting.”

“For what?” Celestia asked, frowning slightly. “Some miracle? Some other trick from the watchmare? I’m afraid there’s none coming for y-”

And then a pumpkin smashed into her head, covering her face. At that precise moment, Luna threw a spell clean at her, which smashed into her and threw her into another building.

“For that,” Luna said. She looked up at Discord, who winked, before flashing out of existence again.

Galatea came up next to her, her horn glowing with waiting energy.

“The humans aren’t here yet,” Luna commented.

“I noticed,” Galatea retorted. “They must get here soon. I don’t know how much longer we can keep this up.”

Before Luna could reply, a blur of white fur slammed into her and knocked her backwards. She was forced to fly upwards to dodge another spell that sheared the building behind her in two down the middle.

“All you pathetic whelps can throw at me is weak foal’s spells and paltry tricks!” Queen Celestia barked out, laughing. “Why not just surrender and die now?! I promise you, the sweet release of obliteration is mercy compared to what I could d-!”

A hail of small, green, round objects started smashing into her, moving at what must have been the speed of sound, smacking into her like giant hailstones. She growled, raising a shield, as Discord – carrying what might have been a minigun, save for its ammunition – floated back into position.

“You were saying?!” he called over to her. “I can’t hear you over the sound of my balls smacking into your face!”

He grinned as the balls kept slamming into her shield, until Celestia’s horn glowed again. Suddenly, the tennis balls halted in midair, suspended like a frozen moment in the rain.

“You know,” she said, her voice all-too calm, “there’s a castration joke I could make here… but I’d rather demonstrate the deed.”

The balls shot back towards Discord, who brought up a paw and snapped his fingers. The tennis balls turned into steam as they flew, dissipating around him.

“You’re all hot air, Celly,” Discord grinned. “Like all politicians -”

In a blur of movement, she was right in front of him, grinning, before she suddenly headbutted him. She reared back, but he snapped a claw and teleported behind her, bringing up his paw and summoning a giant tower shield as she bucked her back legs at him.

“Your humour’s a little stale, Discord!” she chuckled. “Surely you can do better?”

“He probably,” Galatea said from behind her, “but they have something to say first.”

Celestia turned, but before she could, a golden circle appeared around her, entrapping her in a ring. She started to laugh at the spell – even Galatea could tell it was a see it was a weak easily broken hold – but then something shot right through her ear, all-but disintegrating it in a spray of blood.

Celestia blinked, the sensation delayed in registering…

… and then hell broke loose upon her.

Two minutes earlier.

“Lyre Three to Gamma One, what’s your sitrep there? Over.”

“Setting up,” Kraber said, speaking as quietly as he could. “What about your guys, over?”

“Beta Team is moving into position,” Cheerilee said over the comm. “Echo Leader, are you receiving, over?”

“Oui, Colonel, I’m ready,” Durant Gagnier’s voice came through. “Managed to get my boys rounded up. Poor test tube fuckers are a little worse for wear but we’ll manage. We’ll punch a few holes through the bitch, mark my words. Over.”

“Alright,” Cheerilee said. “You’ll only get one shot at this, so make it count, alright?”

“We get it, Lieutenant Colonel,” Heliotrope said. “We’ll be careful.”

“For the last time, are you sure you don’t want me to shoot the other ones?” Kraber asked. “I mean, are we one hundred and ten percent sure they’re on our side, over?”

“Since our reports indicate that the Queen and these newcomers have been kicking the proverbial shit out of each other,” Cheerilee said, “no. It’d be nice to at least understand what the hell’s going on before any of this gets too out of hand.” There was a pause. “Wolf Hunter, what’s your ETA to position, over?”

“This is Wolf Hunter, I’ll be in position and ready to fire in sixty seconds, over.” The sniper’s hoarse voice answered, no doubt getting in a proper place to fire from.

“Copy that, stand by for our signal, over.”

“This is Mifune,” another voice cut in. “I am also in position to assist.”

“Well fok,” Kraber said. “Sounds like they’ve really broken out all the stops for this one.”

“Not all the stops,” Yael chuckled, “but sounds like a lot of them.” She motioned. “Alright, get set up. Kraber, you’ve got the biggest gun, so I’ll let you pick the best spot for suppression. Aegis, you’ve got the shield projector for him.”

The large white earth pony stallion nodded. He’d sprung for a PHL-built shield generator, giving him at least a percentage of the utility of a unicorn. While the shield was less durable than one from the average unicorn, it also didn’t require constant concentration to keep it active.

“You get me the nicest presents,” Kraber grinned, thinking of the right attachment for this moment. He normally used it as a giant assault rifle, but it performed better when used as a stationary weapon.

The tripod is probably too cumbersome, so...

“Hey, Aegis, still got that spare bipod?”

“Always do,” Aegis said tiredly, reaching into a saddlebag. He pulled out a spare bipod from what he and Kraber had taken to calling ‘The Artyom sack’. “Try not to snap these ones off, please? I only have so much money, even on a PHL specialist salary.”

“No promises, chommie,” Kraber replied, sliding it onto the picatinny rails.

Aegis stared at him flatly.

“Fine, fine. I’ll do my best,” Kraber said, a tired smile on his face. “This is a special occasion after all.”

“Our team is in position,” Yael whispered. “Standing by for orders, over.”

And then, a moment later, the radio came through with the words they had all been waiting for.

“All units, you have permission to engage at your discretion,” Cheerilee said, “repeat, all units have permission to engage at their discretion. Take that bitch down. Lyre Three out.”

“Fokkin’ showtime,” Kraber whispered.

“All units, you have permission to engage at your discretion. Repeat, all units have permission to engage at their discretion. Take that bitch down. Lyre Three out.”

Eyes focused, Maxine Radwick stared down to the battle as her hands moved to change and load a superior ammo for her rifle. While she wasn’t a weapon tester or drinking buddies with R&D personnel like Kraber or First Lieutenant Winston’s squads, she was smart enough to have connections available for special items. Despite the prototype “disharmony grenades” never reaching standard issue status there was something that would get mass production.

As part of the research of rune based and magic related enhancements/applications, there was an idea. Namely, what if there was a type of anti-personnel ammunition that could be more effective against the various kinds of magically enhanced tissue that comprised the Solar Empire’s legions and Queen? This had been easier said than done, mind you, with different possibilities tried; there was even an attempt to do something like P+ ammunition so that they wouldn’t need to create an entirely new bullet and just had to modify their rifles.

Fortunately, for Maxine, there was one viable prototype of ammunition. One that, with further trials, might tip the war in humanity’s favor. To think, it was descended from the controversial and expensive XM645 flechette round. The obvious difference was that these “rune inscribed” edges were programmed to function in a very crucial manner once striking enemy flesh rather than possibly happening.

Either way, with her rifle loaded and herself ready, Maxine looked down the sight at the nearby battle. All she needed now was focus to take the perfect shot against the target. The cause of all her troubles.

The one pony who took everything from her.

DC was in panic. She barely managed to get to the apartment with how mad the streets have gotten; it was a miracle she didn’t crash the Catera or get crashed into. She was wound tight – of course she was, DC falling apart wasn’t it? Her mom was right, she should have packed Agnus into the car and drove straight back to Texas.

Knowing Mary, she’d probably call Alex to come and get her and Agnes. He liked Agnes – he liked being an uncle. It made her feel better since August was skittish around anyone; it gave Alex a reason to talk with her and not Mary. Just because he and Mary were closer, didn’t mean anything to Maxine. They’d all be fine.

She just needed to get her and Agnes out of the city.

Despite her rush, Maxine managed to not fumble her keys and get inside. In little time, she was up the stairs and on her floor. Thankfully, no one was around and--

What was that? The thought resounded across her mind just as she was closing in on the door. It sounded… bad. Really bad. If anything happened to her daughter, so help her god--

She was there. Of course she was. Maxine asked her to be here hours ago. She didn’t have any issue being here, no. After all, She said when Maxine called her, what are friends for?

Well, Maxine was about to find out. Because despite being graced with that horrible red mane and tail, both lush like fields of wheat, that didn’t cover her head and that flat, equine face, the mare’s lips parted and began to curve upwards. She began to smile and--

“All it takes is just a drop, Max, and you’ll be happy with us~” Red Rye said, eyes gleaming like a satisfied wolf. Hearing that made Maxine freeze, her eyes fixated on Rye’s beaming face despite hearing that door open and--

CRACK

Her rifle’s barrel flashed, the bullet speeding straight towards its intended target. Maxine blinked, tears trailing down her face just as the bullet’s rune did it’s job. While flechette rounds could curve on impact to flesh and cause terrible wounds, the experimental “edgette” would carve through and, regardless of angle, would travel in a straight line up or down whatever it made contact with.

A useful way to make somepony pay and to kill them by bleeding them out by shooting and cutting their ear off. And since the injury was done by the rune, the effect was like anticoagulant – hard to heal from.

“Take that,” she whispered.

There was a moment of silence after Celestia’s ear all-but disintegrated, and then suddenly every gun in the area opened fire. Trapped by a spell that, for all its weakness, still held her in place, she could do nothing but weather the hail of firepower sent her way.

Bullets tore through limbs, wings, and what was left of her mane, spraying blood in the air. And then, for a moment, all was still.

It took them all, humans and ponies alike, a few moments to realise something was off. Celestia was wounded, grievously in fact, but she was still in the air.

Galatea had watched the whole thing with morbid fascination, but that fascination had quickly turned to horror.

Somehow, despite her wounds, Celestia was still flying.

There were holes all over her body, wounds that were either stubbornly refusing to heal or healing very slowly. Whatever the humans had developed was clearly designed to prevent the normal ambient magic that surrounded an Alicorn from restoring Celestia’s wounds. And yet she persevered.

“Is… that… it?” the maddened Alicorn hissed. “Is that… everything this vaunted human ingenuity can muster to kill me?! HA!”

She was laughing. How a mare who had just been so grievously wounded could even be flying, much less laughing, Galatea didn’t know. She thought she knew the limits of Alicorn endurance – perhaps pridefully, she believed that she was that limit, the most powerful of the three on an individual basis. And yet here was Celestia, proving herself the more powerful… or the more insane.

Or both.

It might have almost been something to feel familial pride in if it wasn’t terrifying on at least three levels.

Galatea swallowed, her horn glowing as she prepared to continue the fight. She felt a wave of what might have been nausea coursing through her stomach – was that fear, perhaps? It was probably the first time she had ever experienced anything quite so visceral in her life, which in and of itself made the experience… interesting.

If this didn’t mean I was about to die, I suppose it would be absolutely fascinating on an objective level, she thought, feeling suddenly and surprisingly detached from the whole experience. She didn’t resent the detachment – it was good to maintain it.

It was certainly impressive that her enemy had kept going. The human weapons had torn through the Queen’s body – Galatea had no doubt in her mind that if those weapons had been turned on her, she would not have been still flying. Yet, there the Queen was, grimacing in pain, but very much active.

“Any last words, watchmare?!” Celestia hissed, grinning. Flecks of blood and spittle flew from her mouth.

Galatea took a deep breath. “None you’d care to hear, sister.”

Neither she, nor the Queen, had noticed the blue box appearing above the battle, however…

Bauer held his sword in a two handed grip as the redheaded man worked the controls of his machine, flipping levers. He still wasn’t sure this would work.

“You’re sure this plan isn’t just suicide?” he asked. “Because it feels like suicide, just with extra steps.”

“Technically, I’ve done this before,” Bowman replied, smiling at him from his console, “and it worked that time.” He paused. “Of course, that time we had more help, more flying people, more weapons…” He grinned. “But you know what? It’s still a sure fire win.”

“If I don’t miss,” Bauer pointed out.

“Look, just jump when I say to!” Bowman replied, rolling his eyes. “You let me worry about you ‘missing’, Major!”

“Right, fine,” Bauer said quietly. “Wish me luck, Doc.”

"I wish you success," the man replied with a wry grin. "And for the last time, don't call me ‘Doc.”

There was a slow groaning, and suddenly a loud thump reverberated through the room, and Bowman flipped another lever.

“Now!” he yelled.

Bauer immediately threw the door open, looked outside, and then, praying this would work, jumped.

He was almost ten storeys up, and there she was, hurtling past him. The entire world felt almost like it was running in slow motion – he brought the blade up, his stomach feeling like there was no gravity in the world. Her neck was outstretched, right there, right there…

And suddenly her eyes flicked to him. She flapped her wounded wings, trying to dodge, and his blade swept out in a desperate flail as he tried to hit her. There was the sound of flesh tearing, a scream of agony, and then he was past her, aiming at the nearby window of one of the ruined buildings…

Flash.

He smashed through the window, and landed in… a pile of pillows. He groaned – the impact had still been hard, but the fall hadn't been fatal.

“W-what?” he murmured, looking around at the veritable cloud of fluffy white feathers that had exploded outwards.

Discord was standing near him, looking battered as all hell, but smiling.

“Happy landings?” he asked weakly.

From the outside, it looked like this.

The box had materialised above where Celestia's path was, and out from it had leapt the armoured form of Stephan Bauer. Though his initial aim had apparently been a vertical decapitation blow, he had switched to a horizontal lash the moment the Queen had noticed him, the entire thing happening almost too quickly to see. Though he had failed to kill her – the speed of events too quick and his enemy too fast and too clever – he had hit her.

A white wing impacted the ground with a dull thud, completely unnoticed due to the rather more impressive spectacle of the Queen herself smashing into the ground with a mighty crash.

There was silence and stillness for a long moment. Soldiers came out of their hiding spots and bunkered-down positions carefully, cautiously, as if expecting her to get up at any second and vaporise them all.

It was Gagnier, lumbering in his mech, who reached her first, bringing both his gun arms up to aim at her. She was covered in injuries, her wing stump weakly spurting arterial blood.

To Durant Gagnier, there was an odd sense of… foreboding, seeing her like this. He couldn’t have explained it – had you asked him, he would have said he expected to be elated to see the Tyrant Sun, the Barriermaker, the head of the Solar Empire, laid low at the feet of his mech, even if he himself had barely had anything to do with it.

Yet, seeing her there, wounded, bloodied and beaten… all he could feel was an impending sense of dread.

“Well, madame,” he said after a moment. “I think it is safe to say that you royally fucked up.”

To his surprise, she started laughing, a cold, cruel laugh.

“You know,” she said, almost amiably, “I think I’ll let you have that one, monsieur.” She let out a harsh, barking laugh. “This has certainly not gone quite the way I wanted, I have to admit.”

“Glad you can find the sense of humour in it,” Gagnier said. “Pretty sure that won’t last.”

“If… you say so,” Celestia chuckled.

Something about her laughter set Gagnier even more on edge than he had been already.

“Bitch,” he muttered, as others approached from around him.

“Ah, monsieur,” Celestia said. “You’re going to be so much angrier at me in a minute.”

There was something about the way she said that sent a wave of cold down Gagnier’s back,and he swallowed reflexively.

She’s bullshitting, he thought. She has to be. We’ve won.

And yet… she was still smiling.

Bauer limped towards the wounded Alicorn, clutching one hand at his side. Despite the pain, despite the fact that he was ninety percent sure it would feel a billion times worse when the adrenaline rush wore off, he felt elation for the first time in God-only-knew how long.

They had won.

There were murmurs from the troops gathering around the fallen Alicorn. There was even a whoop of “FOK YES!” from a familiar voice, and Bauer had to chuckle at the irrepressible Viktor Kraber. He and his team – Yael Ze’ev’s team, technically – were moving into position, aiming their weapons at Celestia carefully.

There, too, were the two other Alicorns and the Draconequus. They all looked worse-for-wear, as though they had been through hell.

I suppose we all have. But it was worth it for this moment.

Ignoring everything else now, Bauer limped towards the Queen. Gagnier was already there in his mech, aiming both his mech’s gun-arms at the Alicorn’s head.

“Got her covered, Stephan,” he said.

Bauer nodded, before raising his sword and aiming it at Celestia.

“This sword is strong enough to take your head off,” he said grimly, keeping it just shy of Celestia’s neck. “If you want to live long enough to stand trial, I would recommend staying still.”

“Ah, well, I can see why you might think that,” Celestia said, chuckling weakly, her voice raspy as she spoke through ruined vocal cords. “It certainly does look like I might have to stand trial for you, doesn’t it?”

“I’d like to see how it could be any other way,” Bauer growled.

“Trust me, we’re thinking of you resisting arrest,” Kraber growled from behind Bauer.

“We’re not,” Yael Ze’ev hissed, though she only sounded half-convinced.

“But you might fall down some stairs,” Aegis added grimly. “Although frankly it looks like you fell down some.”

“Ah, funny,” Celestia said, chuckling, before wincing. “Ooh, this really, really hurts.”

“Good,” came half a dozen voices. She only chuckled again.

Behind him, he heard the clicking of rifles being aimed at the Queen’s head. Then next to him came Hiro Mifune, his own sword drawn and pointed at Celestia’s head, tip squarely aimed at her eye.

“Surrender,” the Mystic said simply, “would be a wise course.”

Celestia gave him an odd look. “You’re one of the ones who touched beyond, as the Fausticorn did, so long ago.” She sniffed. “I expected you to smell worse in person, to be honest. Monkeys flinging faeces at magic can’t be hygienic.”

She coughed, blood splattering on the ground in front of her. Bauer adjusted the angle of his sword so that she didn’t impale herself, waiting for her to try to escape, but she simply looked up and smiled.

“You’re taking defeat pretty calmly,” he said. “Surprising.”

“Oh, you will be even more surprised in a moment,” Celestia said. Her eyes alighted behind Bauer. “Ah, and there is the watchmare and Little Moon. How are you both?”

Bauer glances over his shoulder – sure enough, Luna and Galatea were both approaching. Galatea took the lead, her eyes narrowed.

“Whatever madness possessed you,” she began, “is at an end.”

Yet even as she said it, her eyes widened, as though she was seeing a ghost.

“Ah, you can see it now,” Celestia said. “Thought you might. I’m losing my… grip, as it were.”

She chuckled weakly, as if at some private joke.

“You’ve already lost your grip,” Gagnier said. “You’re going to go on trial for war crimes nobody’s ever heard of before you. I wouldn’t like to be in your horseshoes, madame.”

“I should resent that remark,” Aegis muttered.

Celestia looked surprisingly unafraid, however.

“Ah, you think I should be… afraid? Or that I should be somehow concerned with this situation?” she asked quietly, and then she smiled. “I am… so very sorry to disappoint you all. Actually,” she giggled, “I’m really not sorry at all.”

Her voice was cracking, and there was still that odd tinge that sounded like a distorting tape. It was almost as if her voice was slightly out of sync with itself.

“What are you talking about?” Princess Luna said, frowning. “What have you done?”

“I wish I could say this wasn’t incredibly, agonisingly painful,” Celestia added, ignoring the question. She motioned to her ruined body weakly. “But that would be a lie. So I suppose you can take solace in that. The price I pay for such perfect control.”

“Control of what?” Bauer asked, frowning. Something was definitely off here.

“This projected form, of course,” Celestia said, her tone the picture of innocence. She tapped her own body with one cracked hoof. “This thing isn’t real. Do you think really defeating me would be such a simple matter?”

Bauer felt the blood leave his face. From the mech near him, Durant’s radio let out a harsh hiss of static that sounded suspiciously like the word “MERDE!”, and then he was out of the mech, fists clenched.

“Durant,” Stephan said weakly.

“That fucking bitch!” Gagnier yelled. “A fake?!”

“What?!” Princess Luna shouted. “How could…?!”

“Of course,” Galatea added. “I should have known.”

“Yes, perhaps you should,” Celestia retorted. “But then, I haven’t been the real me on this stupid planet since the war started. Even when I killed you before, mother dearest’s watchmare.”

“The fok?!” Kraber added, dumbfounded. “The absolute fok?!”

“There is an old pool in the Everfree Forest, a Mirror Pool,” Celestia explained, giggling manically. “In it, one can create a near-perfect duplicate of one’s self.”

“You’re a fucking clone?!” Gagnier said.

“Nothing so crude as that,” Celestia said, before letting out a hacking cough. “Once the Pool created a copy of me, it took a great deal of work to overwrite it and be able to control it with my own mind.” She laughed. “Like I said, monsieur, this is painful. I have perfect control of it, and that includes the agony of this flesh failing.”

“And if you relinquish control?” Mifune asked.

“I don’t know,” Celestia grinned. “Oh, shall we find out? Goodbye, humans and traitors. I’ll see you all again soon.”

Her eyes widened, she blinked, and then she slumped to the floor, eyes wide and empty.

“Is she… dead?” Kraber asked.

“Do not touch the body,” Galatea warned. She approached it carefully. “I know little of the Mirror Pool – it is older than I – but this clone may well prove dangerous.”

“Buh,” the clone uttered, a little drool dripping from it’s mouth.

“Or not,” Kraber said.

“Fuck,” Bauer muttered. He sheathed his sword. “Gagnier… get a team down here to… to evac this thing. Get it sent to R&D or something.”

“Alright, Stephan,” Gagnier replied, before spitting at the catatonic Alicorn clone. “Fucking bitch.”

As the rest of the soldiers dispersed, Bauer felt a sudden sensation of being drained. All the optimism he had felt had been turned to ashes in his mouth.

Fuck, he thought again. Fucking… fuck.

Luna found Galatea later, standing in what was left of the green area that they had fought the Queen near. The grey mare had a thoughtful frown on her face as she looked out over the devastation.

“Galatea?” Luna asked quietly.

Galatea turned to look over her shoulder at Luna, her expression grim.

“We’ve been granted a reprieve,” she said quietly. “For how long, I do not know. We must make use of it.”

“There was something wrong with her,” Luna said. Galatea turned to meet her eyes. “This Queen. There is more at work here.”

“You felt that, too?” Galatea asked, frowning. She turned away, her tone becoming wistful. “It does seem to make sense, doesn’t it? What other reason but madness could cause a mare like Celestia to lose her senses like this?”

“Madness, or malice?” Luna asked, stepping forward. “You heard how she spoke. What she was saying. It was almost as if -”

She cut off, not daring to finish the sentence. Not daring to fear what she was about to say was the truth. But Galatea caught her meaning.

“It was almost as if she were not Celestia at all,” Galatea finished. “I felt that too.”

“But what?” Luna asked. “What could it be instead? A changeling? Some sort of monster possessing her? Or a hex?”

“There are many possibilities,” Galatea replied dolefully, “and none of them are good.” She turned back to Luna. “For now, Celestia… our Celestia… must be told what has occurred. And, ideally, she must consult with Alexander Reiner. Learn everything he knows about this war.”

“Indeed,” Luna replied, nodding. “What little we have learned has been far too little to prepare for this.”

Galatea gave her a wry smile. “Indeed. When next we meet the Queen, we must be ready, and it will be sooner than we think.”

“Soon?” Luna asked quietly. “Do you believe it will be soon?”

“I know it will,” Galatea replied, her smile fading, and her brows furrowing in concern. “It is not a question of if. It is now only a question of when.”

Jed: Took me long enough to get here. 😂

Special thanks to Doctor Fluffy and TheIdiot for helping flesh out this chapter. It’s good to see Kraber and Maxine Radwick floating about, and I don’t know about you, but I do feel that it’s nice to have the callback of a sniper shooting off Celly’s ear. 🙂

(Also: 8k might seem tame to some of you, but for my style, that’s a long chapter 😂)

“We do not know what our chances of survival are, so we fight as if they were zero. We do not know what we are facing, so we fight as if it was the dark gods themselves.”
Justicar Alaric, Warhammer 40,000: Grey Knights.

Boston, USA. November 1st, 2024.

A figure stood alone in a ruined church, broken arches above her head and holes in the roof, exposing a ragged, cloudy sky. She wore a battered, hooded cloak. She stood almost as still as a statue, staring up at the sky with unblinking eyes. To the casual observer, she might as well have been a statue, but she was not simply unmoving.

She was waiting.

How much of her life had been spent this way? Too much, perhaps? Certainly, the long years of waiting and watching did nothing to prepare her for what had come of her world. Of this world.

Still, she had made the effort: small considerations, moments where she had managed to do something to stymie the plans of this Solar Empire her sister had created, or aided others who could achieve other things.

I wonder how the exiled Professor will react, Galatea thought idly. If this works… will it be a dream come true, or just another thing spurring him down his doomed path?

There was a faint stirring from somewhere: the sound of rubble stirring. Galatea turned her head, and for the briefest of moments saw a unicorn mare wearing a human looking overcoat.

“Oh!” the mare exclaimed, stumbling slightly. She blinked at the sight of Galatea. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I…”

She seemed rather apologetic, not just by her words, but by her demeanour as well.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, before dashing behind a pillar.

Galatea frowned, and moved towards the pillar, searching for the mare briefly – but there was no sign of her. No sign even that she had ever been there.

Odd, she thought, feeling a wave of – Deja Vu? Was that the human term? Yet it is not the strangest thing I’ve encountered.

Whether it was an omen, or just another sign of how wrong things had become in the state of these worlds, Galatea did not know and did not care to guess. So much had gone so far beyond expectations or anything she had ever understood, that to try and find truth in it seemed foolhardy.

She moved slowly back to where she had been standing, her mind ablaze with thoughts of everything she had seen.

So many moments, so much history… so much pain. And her role merely to watch.

Mother, she wondered for just a moment. Have I done right? Or is this another mistake in a near-endless run of them? She closed her eyes. You would have done better to make another, better suited to fill this task. Yet it is too late now.

But she made you, and no other, her own mind retorted. And suited or not, you are the one who must take up this mantle.

She was interrupted from her thoughts, however, by the door to the church creaking. It opened with a slow, lumbering groan, and a few dozen bipedal figures entered the building carefully.

Humans, she reminded herself. They are called humans. I should remember that.

It wasn’t as easy as that, of course. She had many more considerations. Too many more.

One of them wore light armour, and he had distinctive blonde hair and a wispy goatee. There were a few other humans in similar gear with him – albeit they were slightly more comprehensively armoured, all but one wearing full-face helmets. They were all armed, a sensible precaution under the circumstances.

Another human, this one in a tattered brown robe, was with them as well. Another of the humans’ ‘mystics’. The Mystic pointed to the mare.

“Excuse me?” the lead human said. “Are you the mare I’m supposed to be meeting?”

“Colonel Alexander Reiner,” she replied, looking at him properly.

With a swift movement, she drew her hood down, revealing her stern face, with lines under her pale eyes and a single thin scar on her cheek. She had never truly thought about the things she had done, the things that she had gone through.

It was, perhaps, a blessing. If she thought too much about it, it would destroy her.

“Finally,” she added, meeting his eyes.

“Sorry I’m late,” the human – Reiner – said, smirking. “We, uh, walked most of the way after the Doc dropped us off in Boston, and this is still a war zone.”

“I am aware of your difficulties,” the mare said. Her tone was cold and clipped and to the point. “Have your men and the Mystic leave.”

The robed human bowed and left at once.

All too eager to please, she thought. They expected her to know all the answers, these humans, when in truth even she had only a few. Too little to show for so many years of work.

Reiner turned to the other humans.

“Casey, wait outside,” he said to one, a red headed male with his helmet clipped to his belt instead of on his head. “Keep an eye out for hostile forces – we’re still not sure just how safe we are in this location.”

“Gotcha, boss,” the other human replied in a strong brogue quite unlike Reiner’s accent. He winked. “We’ll holler at the first sign o’ trouble.”

He walked out of the church, the other humans following, leaving the mare and Reiner alone.

“Alexander Reiner,” the mare said again. “The leader of the PHL, and heir to the work of Lyra Heartstrings.”

Reiner frowned. “You know about Lyra?”

“We spoke, once,” the mare said shortly. “And her work was important. Maybe more so than even I know. But that is not why you are here.”

“Why am I here, then, Ms…?” Reiner asked.

The mare threw off her cloak in a single motion, spreading her wings wide. Reiner stepped back, eyes wide in shock.

“You’re an Alicorn!” he said, hand reaching for the weapon at his side.

On the surface, she didn’t quite understand the reaction. But she supposed it was impossible for him not to be thinking of the only other currently extant Alicorn in the world.

“I am here to help you, human,” the mare said sharply. “Stay your hand!”

Reiner moved his hand from his weapon and seemed to calm a fraction, though he still looked wary.

As well he might, if I were any other pony, she thought.

“We were under the impression that Princess Luna was the only other Alicorn, apart from the Tyrant,” he said quietly. “And that there were no others.”

“And you would have been within your rights to have that impression,” the mare replied simply. That is how it should have been. “Mine work has been to observe the others, not to interact. Mine sisters never knew of me… though I fear mine secrecy is compromised, now.”

“Who are you, then?” Reiner asked.

“Mine name is Galatea,” the mare said, speaking impatiently. “And I have little time, so listen well.” She took an almost imperceptible steadying breath, calming herself. “You do not have the manpower, the expertise or the requisite strength to defeat your enemy.” Before Reiner could object, she held up a hoof. “Do not posture to me, Alexander Reiner. You know as well as I that I have spoken only the truth.”

Reiner sighed, apparently conceding to her assessment.

“Alright,” he said sullenly. “So?”

“So, I have a solution,” Galatea replied. “I have, amongst my many talents, the power – however much a strain it may prove – to connect to other incarnations of myself, alternates and counterparts from what you would term parallel realities.”

Reiner frowned. “From other Solar Empires?”

Galatea snorted. “From Equestrias that never became the abomination calling itself the Solar Empire. Unsullied, free.”

Reiner paused, clearly taken aback by her words. Galatea couldn’t help but be faintly amused by the way he reacted. Even with so many things these humans had considered impossible happening in less than a decade, they still felt surprised by the notion of things beyond their experience. It was charming.

Then Galatea’s face fell, the bleak, nascent amusement throttled in its crib. I shouldn’t judge too harshly, or mock too much. I was just as surprised, just as taken aback, and slower to react than they were. And many have paid the price for that failure.

“That’s…” Reiner finally said, swallowing nervously. “I’d say that’s ridiculous, but – well, we’ve had to redefine what we call ridiculous over the last few years.”

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Galatea said with a small, mirthless smirk, the corpse of her gallows humour managing a brief death-rattle. “It is with one a counterpart of mine in one of these Unsullied Equestrias that I have communed. She and I, together, have the power to bring you to her world.”

“Where… what?” Reiner asked. “Will she be able to help?”

“Not alone,” Galatea said, “but she will be able to aid you in securing the aid of that world’s diarchs. Celestia of old…” Here, Galatea’s felt a wave of wistful nostalgia for the days of old. “Celestia of old was merciful, kind, just, and strong-willed.” Her expression hardened, and she forced herself to keep her tone free of the revulsion she felt. “Whatever madness has possessed the Celestia who stands at the head of the Solar Empire, her rightful self would oppose it as the perversion of Harmony that it is.”

Reiner scowled. “Trusting Celestia? That’s… gonna be hard to swallow, for anyone. I’d have to run it by command.”

Galatea scowled. “We are short of time, Alexander Reiner. Discussing the correct course in a committee is a luxury you do not have.”

“But it’s how we do things, ma’am,” Reiner retorted. “I might be head of the PHL, but I’m not the unilateral boss of everyone in the damn army. I’ve got to answer to my people, to my superiors, my subordinates…”

Galatea tutted, but then nodded. “Very well, Alexander Reiner, if that is what you must do, then –”

She paused, and then her eyes widened. She could feel it, the edge of her perception ringing like a warning bell.

“… no.”

“What?” Reiner asked, frowning. There was clear concern written on his face.

Before Galatea could answer, Casey, the human from before, ran into the building, panting slightly.

“Colonel!” he yelled, sounding almost panicked. “We have heavy incoming!”

“Shit!” Reiner swore. “How bad?”

“Bad, sir,” Casey replied. “They must have swept right past Checkpoint Zeta.”

Reiner ran a hand through his hair. “Escape routes?”

Casey shook his head. “We’re cut off, sir. Whatever you’re doing with that unicorn from the Mystics, they really want her-”

“It is worse than you realise,” Galatea said hollowly. Casey looked at her, his eyes widening as he took in the fact that he was looking at an Alicorn. “She is coming. She must have sensed that I am here.”

Reiner’s eyes widened in shock.

“The Tyrant,” he whispered, sounding almost afraid. No doubt he was. Galatea felt it, too, the nagging sense pushing at the edge of her reason. She ignored it.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “There is no escape for us here. She will have even blocked teleportation – I am as trapped as you.”

Reiner ran a hand through his hair again, looking desperate for a moment, before letting out a sigh.

“Send me,” he said quietly.

“Pardon?” Galatea asked, frowning.

“Send me to this other Equestria,” Reiner said. “If it’s true, if they can help us, then fine. I’ll go. I’ll take the chance.” He gave a wan smile. “It’s gotta be better than dying here.”

Perhaps there is more courage to this human than I dared hope, Galatea thought, eyes widening. She gave a small smile.

“Indeed… very well, then,” she said. “I will commune with mine other self.” She paused, contemplating the task ahead. “I will need time.”

Casey nodded. “You’ll have that time, ma’am.”

“Casey,” Reiner began, but the other human held up a hand to forestall it.

“If she can get you out of here… shit, boss, I don’t understand any of it, but it sounds better than carking it here,” he said, his tone surprisingly light for a man who no-doubt knew he was going to die. “Squad’ll buy you some time, keep the bastards off your arse, and let the lady do… whatever it is she’s gonna do.”

“Casey,” Reiner said again, almost plaintively.

“Colonel, don’t sweat it,” Casey said. “We’ve got your back. See you on the flip side.”

Without another word, he jogged back out the door, jamming his helmet on as he did so. Reiner sighed, and waited as Galatea’s horn began glowing, and she turned away, concentrating on bridging the gap.

A few moments passed, and the sound of human weapons firing began to come from outside, along with other sounds: the sound of battle being joined. As the portal took shape, the sounds of gunfire got closer. Reiner seemed to tense, and Galatea heard the sound of him drawing his own weapon.

A moment passed, and then suddenly she heard the sound of the structure’s door bursting open. Galatea risked a glance over her shoulder, and saw a group of Unicorn stallions in heavy armour running into the church.

“You must keep them from interfering!” she yelled.

“Gotcha!” Reiner called back.

The sound of human gunfire and spells began echoing in the room. Galatea heard the heavy thump of bodies slamming to the ground, dead, and reassured herself that the human was still fighting.

This is our last hope, she thought grimly.

“Go for the traitor!” one of the Unicorns yelled. Galatea glanced again. But Reiner had already interceded, throwing what looked like a small metal ball at them. With a brief thought, Galatea raised a shield around herself as she worked.

“Grenade!” another of the Unicorns yelled, and then there was a loud explosion, blasting masonry and woodwork apart. Suddenly the room was filled with smoke. Galatea focused, bringing the connection together.

‘I can hear you,’ a voice seemed to say through her mind. ‘We are connected.’

For the last time, perhaps, Galatea thought to her other self, but she felt no reply. She focused now on completing the connection, and she opened her mind, allowing her alter to connect and learn everything she knew. Their connection was tenuous, but Galatea could feel it, and she allowed herself a brief smile. The portal had emerged, glimmering, a blue-white vortex, standing like a vertical puddle of water.

“You!” she heard one of the Unicorns – possibly the last one – yell.

She turned, to see the soldier standing over Reiner. The Unicorn was bleeding from one of his ears, and his eyes were wide and filled with an unnatural rage.

“You’re the leader – the one that gives all the monkeys their false belief!” the Unicorn was saying to Reiner, who seemed wounded. “You’re an idolator! Soon, her majesty will be done with your friends, and then it’s your -”

With a thought, Galatea sent a blast of cold blue magic into the Unicorn, and a moment later his empty armour clattered to the floor, pale blue mist dissipating around it. Reiner looked up, meeting Galatea’s eyes.

“Newfoal,” she said with a grimace. “Disgusting abomination of nature. Another crime, another aberrance. One we must hope we can set right.”

Reiner, wincing with pain from his wounds, stood up, looking at the portal behind her with wide, astonished eyes.

“Is it ready?” he asked quietly.

“It should be,” Galatea replied. “It will take you to a new, Unsullied Equestria, and there – the spirits be willing – you will find help.”

Reiner nodded slowly, and then suddenly he frowned. “But… what about you?”

“What about me?” Galatea asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You said it yourself,” Reiner reminded her. “You can’t escape. If the Tyrant really is here, then like you said, she’ll have blocked any magical way out.” He paused. “Can you… can you beat her? Or get past her?”

“I do not know,” Galatea lied. I know all too well. She gave him a rueful smile, and decided to be honest. “I suspect not. She obliterated the creature Discord, the ancient evil of Kontagion. These things were beyond my strength to accomplish, and yet she did them.”

She took a breath, before nodding, feeling the heady weight of expectation leave her in favour of the lightness of acceptance.

“Yes,” she finished. “I believe this is the moment where I meet my destiny.”

Reiner shook his head. “No, that’s… you can’t die. You can still… I dunno…”

“You proceed from a false assumption, Alexander Reiner,” Galatea said more gently. “I do not fear death. I fear failure. I fear the world that awaits if you fail. That is why I will make sure you do not. This is how I will restore the order I was created to protect.” She paused. “One Galatea… or another.”

She paused, smiling softly. She knew that she was not alone, no matter how isolated she felt.

“Now go,” she said to Reiner, motioning to the portal. “Go now.”

Reiner threw her one last look, and then threw himself into the portal. There was a blinding flash of light, and then the portal became still once more.

Galatea watched the portal for a moment, before turning her attention to the church’s door. The sounds from outside had stopped, and she sighed.

“Do you see me, Galatea?” she asked the air around her. “I do this so that the plan will be returned to its rightful way. Do you understand what you have to do, the part you have to play, now? The sacrifices you must make?”

There was no reply. How could there be? But she knew she had been heard, and in that moment felt content in what was meant to be.

“I meet my fate gladly,” she continued, “knowing you will continue what I have begun.” She smiled beatifically, her wings flaring out and her horn glowing. “Farewell, sister-self.”

The door to the church burst open, and a silhouette of an Alicorn appeared, stepping through the threshold, backed by blinding light. There was a momentary pause as the figure regarded the portal and the figure of Galatea.

“You came here for a prize, Queen Celestia,” Galatea said to the figure with a grin. “I must regretfully inform you that you will not claim it today.”

“We shall see,” Queen Celestia said, her voice echoing and sombre. “Interesting. What are you, exactly?”

“Your enemy, corrupt Queen,” Galatea retorted. “You have already failed.”

“Ah, but failure is one step on the road to greater success,” the corrupted Alicorn retorted with a small smile.

Galatea frowned. She spared a glance to her side. Standing behind a pillar, just about shielded from view by the rubble, was a thin, frigid and suit wearing human-looking figure. He looked uncertain, his expression torn between the desire to hide and the obvious eagerness to step forward and intervene with cane in hand.

Galatea smiled and shook her head almost imperceptibly, before looking back at Celestia.

“If that is so, you must be far on that road, Celestia,” she said. “This world has not fallen yet. Hope remains in Equestria, and on Earth.”

“Hope?” the other Alicorn snorted. “What hope, you small things?” She laughed. “If you mean this ploy, then be assured – I will deal with Alexander Reiner.” Her smile faded. “First, however, I shall deal with you.”

There was a flash of light, and the battle was joined once more. Almost immediately, as she raised her shield to deflect a hail of golden blasts of magic, Galatea realised that she didn’t stand a chance in this sort of direct contest of power. She gave a small smile, and stepped back once, giving ground before the onslaught.

“Is this all you have?!” the corrupted Queen bellowed. “What kind of an Alicorn are you?”

Galatea’s smile became a grin. “A smart one, sister.”

She concentrated, and then suddenly she dodged, magic propelling her faster than even her wings could have, before dashing forward, slamming into the Queen and throwing her into a wall. Before the corrupted Alicorn could react, Galatea threw a blast of energy at her, the powerful magical blast slamming into the Queen and sending a hail of dust into the air. It was, without doubt, a powerful strike.

But not powerful enough, Galatea thought, already knowing the outcome. I have left too little behind in case this plan should fail, and even now that it succeeds, there is so much more they needed to know.

But this was no time for regret. Even as the dust was still settling, a blast of power slammed into Galatea and threw her into a wall.

The battered form of Queen Celestia stepped forward, scowling.

“You’re an irritant, I don’t deny it,” she hissed. Her eyes narrowed. “And you called me ‘sister’... another child of Faust, then.”

“Mine name is Galatea,” Galatea hissed.

“How very pompous and portentous, so like Faust,” Celestia said idly, a small chuckle escaping her lips. “But it’s surprising that you even exist. I thought there were but two of that usurping genetic freak’s children running about. Does that bitch’s brood know no limits?”

Galatea’s eyes widened. The timbre in that voice, the words… they were not Celestia. Galatea knew Celestia well, and this…

…this was wrong.

“Who… no…” She narrowed her eyes at the Queen. “What… what are you?”

The maddened Alicorn laughed. “Oh, I see – you never truly understood what the truth was. I thought that somepony else might have cottoned on for you, but never mind.”

Galatea realised just what that must have meant, and she felt the blood drain from her face in horror. She cursed the irony that it was now far too late for her epiphany to do any good, for her or anybeing else. The connection was broken.

“I had suspected you,” she hissed. “Among others. But when you destroyed Kontagion and Discord, that left so few options… for the thing possessing mine sister. Even then, I didn’t want to believe it…”

‘Galatea!’ a voice howled to her, cold as winter, yet it was kept back. ‘Galatea, please! Let me-’

Queen Celestia only shrugged. “Believe it or not, here I am.” She yawned. “As diverting as this is… Galatea, was it? As diverting as this little reunion is, I have things to do.” She smiled. “Goodbye, Mother dearest’s watchmare.”

‘-open! Open damned mirror! Why won’t you let me – Galatea! Please!’

Galatea took a deep breath. The Queen’s horn flashed with power, and a bolt of magic suddenly raced towards Galatea. She had a moment to close her eyes.

So much history, so much pain. And now it ends. I wish you success, Alexander Reiner. For all our sakes.

And then there was nothing but darkness.

Queen Celestia scowled at the corpse of her new-yet-old sister, a host of feelings twisting through her mind.

A sister, after all these years… how typical. How… unfortunate. What had she been doing? Why had she not been raised among them? What paths had led her here, away from the loving light of their family? What damage had this product of the Fausticorn caused?

Shaking her head, Queen Celestia brought her focus back to the here and now as Guardsponies entered the church.

“Your majesty?” one of the Guardsponies, Redheart, asked.

Redheart was a rather special member of the Guard: a veteran of border disputes in the old days, and later a key officer in the battles of the Sombran and Changeling wars. She had continued to prove her worth in the early battles of this war.

“Did we take any prisoners?” Celestia asked.

“One human,” Redheart said. “We left him be until you could… question him.”

“Bring him here,” Celestia intoned airily. “Let us see what he has to say.”

Redhead nodded, and motioned to one of her colleagues. There was a momentary wait, before two of the armoured soldiers pulled the human through, bound in their magic fields and scowling at all of them. He was one of their males, his gear dirty and charred.

“Well, human,” Celestia said, “shall we start with our pleasantries? I am Queen Celestia of the Solar Empire. And you are?”

“Casey Hannity,” the man replied, spitting on the floor. “I’d tell ya me PHL serial number but fact is I never had a head for ‘em. You’d not give a toss either way.”

“Quite,” the Queen said. She smiled. “You don’t seem afraid.”

“‘Course I am,” the human snorted. “I just figure I’m dead either way.” He chuckled. “Sorry if I don’t bow, yer highness. My family came from the Republic forty years ago: summat about tyrannical royals sticks royally in me craw. Must be in me genes.”

The Queen chuckled warmly. “Well, you have spirit at least. That’s commendable for one faced with… well, I imagine you creatures almost see me as your equivalent to the devil, don’t you?”

“You just complimented me?” the human said, sneering. “Well, now I just feel dirty.”

The insolence was impressive, but it was also aggravating. Celestia felt the urge to snap this speck’s spine like a twig, but she resisted the urge, instead taking a deep breath and steadying herself.

You are a Queen, and a beneficent one at that. Maintain composure.

“Where did this,” she motioned to the deceased Galatea, “send your commanding officer, Alexander Reiner?”

“Feckin’ fairyland to meet the Queen Fairy,” the human replied. He spat on the floor again. “Save yer breath, Tyrant bitch. You’ll get feck all out o’ me.”

“I presumed as much,” Celestia said. She took a breath, calming herself. “And – our potion stocks?”

She addressed this to Redheart, and noted that the human’s eyes widened ever-so-slightly. Ah, now he was afraid.

Good.

“We have enough specialised potion for a handful of humans,” Redheart replied. “But… no standard. My apologies.”

The human laughed. “That’s feckin’ rich.”

Celestia scowled, but quickly regained her composure.

“Very well,” she said. “I’ll ask once more. Where did this send him?”

“The land o’ the feckin’ Care Bears to fetch a rainbow cannon of love an’ cuddles,” the human sneered back at her.

Celestia nodded. “Well, then, I can see we’ll get nowhere with you.” She gave him a sneering smile. “Good night.”

There was a flash of light from her horn and suddenly the human’s head turned a ninety-degree angle with a sick crack.

“A pity we had no standard potion stock,” Celestia said nonchalantly as the body slumped to the floor, “but somehow I suspect the human would prefer it this way.”

“As you say, your highness,” Redheart said quietly. “What now?”

Celestia smiled warmly at her.

“Redheart,” she said quietly. She motioned to the portal. “Since our enemy has fled the field, you need to follow him.”

“Me, your highness?” Redheart asked, frowning. “All respect, and I am honoured by your trust in me, but surely one such as the Angel -”

“The Angel is not here, you are,” Celestia cut her off. “I trust you, my little pony. I know that you will not fail me.”

Redheart frowned at the portal. “Where do you believe it leads, your majesty?”

Celestia resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Stupid questions. Stupid underlings. Always asking when they should be obeying.

“It leads somewhere that is not here, Redheart,” she said after a moment. “There is no way of knowing for certain, and this human,” she motioned to the fresh corpse, “did not provide us with any answers, unfortunately. What we do know is that this thing,” and she spared a glance for the dead Alicorn, “sent Alexander Reiner through it. Therefore, wherever it leads, you must follow, and finish what we began here today. And you must hurry,” she added, frowning, “for it will not last for long.”

Sure enough, even as she spoke, the portal flickered, like a candle guttering in the wind.

Redheart saluted. “At your command, your majesty.”

With a deep breath, she strode towards the portal, before throwing herself into it in a flash of light. There was a momentary silence, and then the portal dissipated.

Celestia let out a sigh of relief, before looking back at the corpse.

“Alright,” she said, motioning to it. “Guardsponies, remand this… this… to the custody of the Royal Engineers.” She smiled, a cold, cruel thing. “I’m sure Chief Engineer Fire will be… appreciative.”

As the Guardsponies moved to gather up the late Galatea, Celestia allowed herself a small, mirthless chuckle.

Well, she thought, we shall see if the Fausticorn’s watchmare has at least set in motion something… entertaining.

Fluffy: Hey, it’s Fluffy! I… didn’t do much.

(~ he underestimates his awesomeness - Jed)

But I’m glad this scene is here. I never truly understood its removal - including Casey gives Reiner a sense of versimilitude and weight. This is, ideally, meant to make Reiner feel more like a real person.

And Casey will appear at some point in Light. SOON™

Jed: This scene from another perspective. And a little more illumination of TCB Galatea. It won’t be the last time.

So a couple of things to note. Firstly, my thanks to TheIdiot for helping write in some extra intrigue into this interlude. All I can say about them is, “keep your eyes peeled”.

Next: take note of poor old Casey. You will, as Fluffy said, see him again, back in the past of Light Despondent. Me and Fluffy agree: having guys like Casey floating about brings a layer of depth to the world-building: those talks of ours inspired, in part, me giving Casey a definitive “last moment”. Because off-screen deaths aren’t as cool as proverbially spitting in Celly’s face before you go.

“Shining is the Land's light of justice.”
Answers from Final Fantasy XIV.

Canterlot, Equestria Harmonia. 8th May, Year 3 Era Harmonia.

The city of Canterlot seemed colder this morning. There were whispers floating around, talk of the coming of different representatives of different nations and peoples, trickling down from the halls of Canterlot Palace to the streets of the city itself. There was a mood in the city, one of apprehension that couldn’t be shaken.

Something big was coming.

Ironic, then, that though she knew very well that something was coming, and had indeed seen more glimpses of that something than any other pony or other being in this city, Twilight Sparkle didn’t feel that apprehension in the slightest right now. Indeed, all she could feel was a sense of… well, mild intellectual aggravation, really.

She was walking through the streets, reading some notes she had received that morning. She frowned at the scribbles and notes that Professor Trotsworth had made about Alexander Reiner’s runes: his hoofwriting had never been the neatest, but it was more the content of his notes that concerned her.

Some of these are sub-Zebrican runes, but it seems more like they are precursors to that language rather than the other way around. They share certain traits with more ancient symbols discovered in ruins in various different lands on the sub-Equusite continent, which suggests that many of them predate these civilisations as well. I’ll consult with Professor Nexus when he gets back from his time with the Zebra historical council and see if he shares my perspective on the matter.

“Alright,” Twilight said to herself, still frowning. “So these runes are old. But where would they have come from?” She narrowed her eyes. “Maybe a precursor civilisation…?”

It was yet another question, on top of questions, on top of more questions. The only consolation that Twilight had was that the human – Alex Reiner – was awake. That meant that he could answer more of their questions and better illustrate what was going on. Then, of course, there was what would come after.

If they were to go to war… the word itself still made Twilight feel cold. But if they were, if it was really happening, then they needed to be ready.

“Would you like a copy of the Canterlot Times, ma’am?”

Twilight blinked, looking up from her thoughts. A Unicorn mare with a short black mane with green highlights and a navy colored coat stood, she had a rather odd looking overcoat that had a bandana tied around her foreleg and covered the rest of her. There was a stack of newspapers suspended in magic next to her. She was waving a copy of one newspaper at her, smiling vacantly.

“Oh, uh…” Twilight didn’t usually buy newspapers. Actually, she considered them something of a waste of paper. Still, given the uncertainty of the days ahead, it might be nice to get a sense of where the city of Canterlot was right now. “Give me a moment…”

She reached inside her saddlebag, but when she looked up, the mare was gone. Twilight blinked again, frowning – there was no sign of her save for the newspaper on a nearby table. There was no sign of the strange mare anywhere in sight.

How odd, she thought, picking up the paper and putting it in her saddlebag idly and thinking no more of it for the time being.

“She did what?”

Alexander Reiner winced at the high pitched sound, and for a moment Lyra regretted the volume of her shouting. But she couldn’t help it – every time she thought she had a handle on what was going on in Alex’s world, he said something else and she felt completely out of her depth once again.

“She wiped out the changelings,” Alex repeated matter-of-factly. “They’re mostly gone now, or else in hiding.”

“I…” Lyra didn’t know what to say. Her memories of the royal wedding and Chrysalis’ invasion of Canterlot were, at best, fuzzy (thank you Queen Chrysalis for that) but she knew it had been a terrifying moment for Canterlot and Equestria as a whole. Even after that horror, however, she would never have wanted the Changelings exterminated.

“It fitted with the Equestrian mood at the time,” Alex said. “The Changeling Purges happened in the wake of a massive upsurge in national paranoia after Canterlot.”

“I remember that,” Lyra said vaguely, “but Celestia gave speeches that calmed that talk down.”

Alex laughed . “Well, not in the Equestria we know.”

His mirthful expression faded and he let out a deep sigh. Lyra wondered for a long moment what he was thinking about.

“The purges were brutal,” he finally said. “I’ve… I’ve seen a few images. Nothing too ‘off-message’, of course, the Empire wouldn’t want any of its citizens to feel sorry for the ‘bugs’, but still.”

“That sounds… horrible,” Lyra said, frowning.

“It was. It was so horrible that it almost broke Equestria in two,” Alex replied. “There was already talk, supposedly, about how Equestria had gone too far, but of course the war against Sombra happened immediately after that, and somehow a war against a magical dark lord tends to make ponies rethink their priorities. Celestia’s overly zealous campaign against the Changelings was forgotten when she led ponies to victory against Sombra’s corrupted Crystal Empire.”

“Almost sounds like they were better off fighting that enemy…” Lyra murmured. At Alex’s bemused expression, she shook her head. “They thought they were fighting a just conflict then. Sombra… I don’t think anypony could argue that he wasn’t pure evil.”

“Maybe,” Alex said. “But with the things I’ve heard… perhaps they’d have been better off dying then.”

Lyra shook her head. “Sweet Celestia… how did it come to this?” She winced slightly even as the words left her mouth. “Sorry. That was insensitive of me.”

“Using her name you mean?” Alex asked.

Lyra nodded solemnly.

“Hey, I can’t police your language,” the human said, smirking. “Besides – your Celestia’s alright.”

“I’m glad to hear that at least,” a new voice said from the door.

Princess Celestia was standing by the doorway, a smile on her face.

“Princess!” Lyra said. “I’m sorry, we didn’t see you there!”

“It’s quite alright,” Celestia said quietly. She turned to Alex. “Alexander Reiner.”

“Princess,” he greeted. Lyra didn’t know whether she imagined the slight edge still in his voice – he couldn’t imagine that seeing her, the spitting image of his enemy, had become all that easier. “How is everything?”

“We are waiting now for the arrival of the delegates summoned by the Concordat – they should all be arriving within the next few hours,” Celestia said, inclining her head respectfully. “How goes your work?”

“We’ve covered most of the basics of the war now, ma’am,” Alex replied, smiling at her. “I should be able to get your commanders up to speed, and brief you on some things you need to tell your people as well.”

“Good, that will be useful,” Celestia said, nodding thoughtfully. “In the meantime, we have received brief word from Luna, Galatea and Discord.”

“Word?” Alex repeated. “Good news?”

“They have made contact, albeit as I said, only briefly,” Celestia replied. “They arrived safely – though they spoke of a battle…”

“A battle?” Alex repeated, frowning. “Are they alright?”

“They did not tell me otherwise,” Celestia said, a look of concern on her face, “but they intend on sending a party through soon – Luna herself, as well as representatives of your PHL and UNAC. I suspect we will learn the full story then.”

Alex took a deep breath. “Good. That’s… that’s good.” He frowned slightly. “And Galatea and Discord? Will they be coming back?”

“Discord is powering the portal,” Celestia said softly. “Until a means can be found to do so without him, he is now our only means of travel between the two worlds, and so must remain there for the moment. As for Galatea…” She frowned, whether in concern or consternation, Lyra couldn’t tell. “She has sent a message saying that she will arrive another time. Apparently she still has work to accomplish on your world.”

“That… sounds kinda really ominous,” Lyra said quietly.

“I agree,” Celestia nodded, “but we are faced with a difficult task ahead. From what we have discussed, there is much her counterpart did not tell her… or did not know.”

“Well, while she’s doing that, I can debrief my troops,” Alex said. “Let them know we’ll have help incoming.”

“Indeed,” Celestia said. “I’ve drawn up a list of formations to send through. There are some… concerns.”

Alex laughed. “Aren’t there always?”

Celestia nodded. “A war is not an easy thing to wage. Even at the preparation stage.”

“I might be able to help,” Alex suggested. “I do know a bit.”

Celestia smiled cordially. “Unfortunately, the chief concerns we have are related to supplies and organisation, and those nopony – and no being – can solve easily.”

Alex’s expression crumpled into a scowl. “Ah, yeah. Supply SNAFU. I’m familiar.”

“We’ve been at peace for so long,” Lyra said quietly. “I can’t even really begin to imagine Equestria at war.”

“Many cannot,” Celestia said. “That is half the problem. We have not been on a war footing for a long time, and there is concern that we may not be able to assemble a sufficient fighting force to assist your people adequately. From what you have told us, our enemy has an advanced military economy – doubtless more ships, more weapons, more soldiers.”

“That’s true,” Alex said quietly. “But any help is more than nothing.”

“But isn’t that why we called for the other nations?” Lyra asked. “To get their help?”

“That is one reason, yes,” Celestia said, nodding slowly. “At the very least, we can ask, though asking grants us no guarantees of success.”

“That much is true, unfortunately,” Alex said quietly.

“But that is not the only reason to bring them here,” Celestia said quietly. “We must also warn them – the enemy has shown the ability to transport themselves from one world to another. Coming to this world may be difficult to achieve for them, but I cannot believe it is impossible.”

Alex paled, his skin turning almost ashen.

“Shit,” he whispered. “You’re right.”

Celestia nodded slowly. “Whether they will aid us or not, we must warn them of their own peril.”

“Won’t they…” Lyra began, but she trailed off.

“Won’t they what, Ms Heartstrings?” Celestia asked.

“I mean…” Lyra took a breath. “If this is another you, isn’t there a risk they’ll think it’s just you threatening them?”

Celestia nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps. If they are inclined to believe the worst of me, and some are.” She smiled warmly. “That being said, I would like to hope that I’ve built up enough goodwill among the other races to negate that possibility.”

“That same goodwill probably accounts for why the other races on the Solar Empire’s Equus were so slow to react to her,” Alex said quietly.

Celestia’s smile faded. “If that is true… yes, it would.” She smiled again, though it seemed somewhat forced. “But as poor a happenstance as that was for them, the hope is that it will turn to our advantage here.”

Alex didn’t look convinced. If anything, he looked even more upset.

“I brought it here,” he whispered. “My war.”

Celestia brought a wing up and put it on Alex’s shoulder.

“Do not mistake me,” she said gently to him. “This will be a difficult task, and if the luxury of not fighting were somehow open to me, I would take it.” She scowled. “But to take that luxury now, knowing what I do? That would make me a coward. Worse. It would make me complicit in your people’s destruction.”

Her expression softened, and she smiled, in that motherly, reassuring way Lyra had seen her do so a few times around Twilight.

“We are your friends, Alexander Reiner,” she said, almost whispering. “Equestria’s coming to your world should have been a time of joy for all, my counterpart’s people and yours alike. It shouldn’t have heralded hatred or suffering.” She drew in a deep breath. “But we will make right what was done to you.”

Alex smiled, before shaking his head. “‘Indeed I am Saruman, one might almost say. Saruman as he should have been’.”

Celestia blinked, frowning. “I… don’t understand the reference.”

“Remind me to introduce you to the works of Tolkien one of these days,” Alex said, chuckling. “In the meantime, I have work to do, your highness, if I’m to prepare you for the war ahead.”

“We all have work to do,” Celestia agreed. “I may need to call upon you for aid when the delegates arrive.”

Alex nodded. “You can count on it, Princess.”

“This may be the most important question we ever ask,” Pinkie Pie said solemnly. Her expression was utterly serious, and she looked between the other ponies present.

Everyone stared at her. They were unaccustomed to Pinkie being this serious.

“The fates of several worlds may hang in the balance,” the party pony continued.

“What is it, Pinkie?” Twilight asked.

“Guys… do we do one ‘welcome to Canterlot party’ for all the guests that’re coming, or do we do them all each their own one?”

Applejack raised an eyebrow.

“On the one hoof, not everyone has the same taste in parties, but on the other hoof, that’ll be so many parties to work with,” Pinkie said. Then, balancing on her left hindleg: “Buuuuuuuuut, it’s important that everyone’s happy, so…”

“It seems like a lot of work to have it for everyone,” Rarity said. “Why not look at each group and work from there?”

“You’re right, Rarity,” Pinkie said, hopping along on one hind hoof. “You know, I heard there’d be Griffons coming!”

She looked over to Rainbow Dash.

“Any advice, Dashie?”

Rainbow Dash was impassive.

“Dashie?”

“Personally, I’m still thinking about that tree,” Rainbow Dash said quietly.

Pinkie paused, as though contemplating the point. “Well… you know about the tree, right? If it was a warning, we know about it, and we’re not gonna be like that Pegasus unit that ignored it, are we?”

“Celestia knows Dash sure ain’t ignorin’ it,” Applejack muttered.

“You’re right, Pinkie,” Dash said, smiling. “We’re not ignoring it, so that’s gotta be a good sign.” Her smile widened. “Thanks.”

“Great!” Pinkie said. “Oh, which reminds me – do you think Vinyl will be free for this? She’s really good at international indie-techno.”

Before any of them could reply to that, there was a sudden blaring sound from outside their window. Twilight turned, her eyes widening.

“What the hay was that?!” Rainbow Dash hissed, covering her ears with her wings.

Twilight looked out of the window, motioning for the others to come and join her.

Flying above Canterlot Palace were a handful of airships of different designs – one of them was a large oak-built craft, carried on multiple large rotors. Another was a boxy metallic design held aloft by four glowing wings, that looked almost as though they were made of magic.

“A Griffon battleship,” Rainbow Dash whispered from next to Twilight, pointing to the oak ship. “Gilda once told me all about them. That’s Roak-Wood, hardest tree known on Equus.”

“And the other one?” Rarity asked.

“Kirin, I think,” Twilight whispered. “Their use of magic is almost as sophisticated and varied as ours.”

“All deference to our own magical skill, but I have never seen a pony-built craft like that,” Rarity said, pointing to the Kirin airship.

“It’s real serious, ain’t it,” Applejack said, sounding downcast.

“Oh no,” Pinkie Pie said, her eyes widening in horror. “AUDIBLE GASP!”

“What?” Twilight asked.

“I didn’t realise there’d be airship crews,” the party pony replied. “If I’d known that, I’d have prepared a ‘welcome to Equestria airship crews’ party! That’s totally different from the other kinds!”

“It is?” Fluttershy asked.

“Of course! I can’t bring candles onto an airship,” Pinkie said.

Twilight laughed. She couldn’t help it. Pinkie being Pinkie was just that normal, despite its randomness, that she felt lightened by it.

“Pinkie,” Twilight said, “You’re so random.”

“Actually, she’s not wrong,” Rainbow Dash pointed out. “It’d be a huge fire hazard.”

“Exactly,” Pinkie nodded. “Never doing that again. The dockmaster at Manehatten never forgave me.”

“Honestly, Pinkie,” Twilight said, “if that’s the worst of our problems in the next few days, I’ll be a happy mare.”

The honour guards of a half dozen different races were assembled in the courtyard of Canterlot Palace when Celestia came down, a full troop of Royal Guardsponies behind her. Celestia could see a squadron of Minotaurs, a platoon of Griffon Imperial Guard, a group of Reindeer (including a very familiar stag in a white-brimmed cloak), and even a pair of the Kirin’s famed Mekka flanking a squadron of their armoured guard and their Mikado, the Kirin-shaped machines standing easily double the height of the tallest Minotaur.

Only the Dragons and the Horses had failed to send any representatives, but Celestia hadn’t expected the Dragons to. They were fractious enough that any one representative from them might have been joined by a dozen others, each representing a different faction of their race. A fight between warring Dracons and their vassal-drakes was the last thing she wanted on Equestrian soil. The Horses were a different matter, but Celestia didn’t feel too worried about it yet. Just because most of the delegates had managed to arrive within hours of one another didn’t mean that they all would, and she had no doubt that she would be receiving a delegation from them soon enough.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” one of the Guardsponies, a nervous-looking Pegasus, said softly. “But, uh… are you sure you wouldn’t want me to fetch another troop? Or two?”

Celestia smiled gently at him. “What’s your name, Guardspony…?”

“Sentry, your highness, Flash Sentry, Sergeant,” the stallion replied. “I’m a recent transfer from the Eighteenth.”

“Of course,” Celestia smiled. “We shall be safe. These beings have come here under a flag of truce, and none dare break it. Not considering what called them here.”

“Even…” Sentry swallowed, before motioning at the Changelings. “Them?”

“‘Them’?” a cruel voice repeated mockingly. “Now, Princess, I can't believe you’d let your ponies de-equinise another so easily.”

A tall Changeling, with a green, stringy mane hanging from her head and cruel green eyes with a catlike pupil approached, a pair of burly grey changelings flanking her.

“Queen Chrysalis,” Celestia said, turning to look at her with an impassive expression.

“Celestia,” Queen Chrysalis said, smirking. “How nice to see you again.”

Celestia inclined her head. “I am surprised to see you here.”

“Other Queens chose to come,” Chrysalis said, “and I would not allow them to learn something to grant them an advantage over me, not when my place in our hierarchy is… where it is.”

This was an oblique reference to her and her hive’s standing in the Changeling hierarchy. Chrysalis had been the ‘Swarmarch’, the equivalent of a Changeling High Queen, for some time, but the recent battle of Canterlot had damaged her standing, and other Queens were rumoured to be moving against her.

“Besides,” Chrysalis added, grinning nastily. “You called for help. If only to know what would make you do that, I needed to be here.”

“I’m glad to oblige,” Celestia said coldly. She looked behind Chrysalis at the other members of the Changeling delegation. “I am… surprised, shall we say, that you would allow the other hives to join you for this… meeting.”

Chrysalis smiled tightly. “Indeed. But I am the representative of our race. Make no mistake, Princess.”

“Oh, believe me,” Celestia said, giving Chrysalis a small smile. “I am on guard against making any mistakes today.”

“Good to know,” Chrysalis said, inclining her head in a manner just shy of mocking. “Until the Concordat meets, Princess. It will be nice to sample Canterlot’s hospitality with my own face.”

With that, she trotted off, moving to speak with her counterparts from other hives. Celestia let out a sigh of relief.

“Keep an eye on them,” she said evenly to Flash Sentry.

“Gladly, Your Highness,” Sentry replied, motioning to a couple of his Guardsponies. They moved off, keeping a respectful distance from the Changelings but staying close enough to act if necessary.

Celestia let out a brief sigh, closing her eyes for a moment, before opening them again. Another of the delegations – the Griffon Empire’s – was approaching. Celestia was surprised to see their Queen, Hedwig, had come personally instead of sending an ambassador.

But then, why should I be surprised? she thought, smiling. Hedwig

The elderly Griffoness approached, flanked by a tall Griffon in an ornately tailored scarlet military jacket, as well as a pair of Griffon soldiers with less elaborate uniforms.

“Princess Celestia,” Queen Hedwig said imperiously, inclining her head. “A pleasure as always.”

“Your Grace,” Celestia replied properly. “As always, my honour.”

It was a peculiarity of Queen Hedwig that she always addressed beings of any stature by their names, though she preferred the more formula address for herself. Her attention to propriety in that regard was legendary – Celestia remembered a particularly amusing formal dinner where a former student had inadvertently used the wrong form of address, and Hedwig had spent the rest of the evening subtly mispronouncing his name as a pointed reminder.

“The honour is ours, to be received in the grand city of Canterlot,” Hedwig replied, looking around. “May I present Archibald Garson of the Imperial Army?”

The stern-looking Griffon next to Hedwig saluted formally. “Your Highness. You’ll forgive the armed display, but a call of this type suggested a form of military response.”

“A prescient observation,” Celestia said carefully. “It may well come to that.”

“Truly?” Hedwig said, her eyebrows rising. “Forgive me, Celestia… I do not believe I could have ever expected you to say such a thing. Equestria’s dedication to a peaceful world is legendary in its singleness.”

“Some would say to a fault,” Garson added. Hedwig gave him a glare, and he inclined his head. “Meaning no disrespect.”

“Peace is a goal all should wish for,” Celestia said evenly. “But it is also one we must recognise cannot last forever. As someone close to me pointed out recently,” she added, smiling, “millennia of peace is no failure.”

“Wise words, Princess,” Hedwig said evenly. “But it begs the question of what it is that may have ended that peace.”

Celestia inclined her head, but said nothing more on the topic. After a moment, Hedwig let out a snort.

“Well, you might as well have one of your tin-ponies show us where we are to be sequestered,” she said. “That’s if they can see in those helmets.”

Celestia smiled. “Well enough, I think.” She motioned to a pair of Guardsponies. “Escort Queen Hedwig and her cohort to the high quarters on the west wing of the palace. That will make them most comfortable.”

“As you command, Your Highness,” one of the Guardsponies said, saluting.

“My son and his dragoon’s should arrive within the next few hours as well,” Hedwig said. “I did ask him to be discreet, but I think he spends far too much time among his fellow officers to know the meaning of the word.”

“We will find quarters for them all, Your Grace,” one of the Guardsponies said.

“Oh, heavens, no,” Hedwig chuckled, “they’ll likely sleep aboard the Warhawk, but do make sure you break out some of that Canterlot wine I hear such good things about. They’re officers, so they will expect the best.”

“And they’ll have it,” Celestia promised. “Until later, Your Grace.”

Hedwig inclined her head, and headed off after the Guardsponies, neither of whom had looked altogether enthusiastic. Celestia took a deep breath, steadying herself.

Didn’t think this was going to happen, did we? she thought. We’re going to war, and we’re nervous about talking to some delegates of all things.

Even as the Griffon group marched off, however, Celestia’s attention was caught by the approach of one of the Minotaurs. Fortunately, she knew this one as well.

“Wise Darkhoof,” she said, inclining her head, “an honour as always.”

“Princess Celestia,” Nous Darkhoof replied, bowing deeply. “I bring the greetings of the Ekklesiasterion in these uncertain times.”

Celestia’s smile faded slightly. Uncertainty that I caused when I sent the call across the world. I’m beginning to understand how Alexander Reiner feels: what have I set into motion here?

It was not you, she reminded herself. It was the alternate version of you that started the war with the humans, and it was a human who came here, a human you decided to aid. And if there is upset, it is worth it in the pursuit of justice and the defeat of evil.

Darkhoof straightened. Like all Minotaurs he was well-built, though he was perhaps slimmer and less muscular than his comrades. He wore a simple white chiton and a pair of half-moon spectacles.

“How goes your research?” Celestia asked, more to distract herself than anything else.

“Well enough,” Darkhoof replied. “It would be better had I not been called here, but the use of the Concordia Maxima piques my interest enough that I can’t complain overmuch.”

Celestia chuckled. “I thought it might.”

“I’m less surprised that you had it, and more surprised that you were able to use it,” Darkhoof said, frowning. “I’ve heard a great deal about it, but most of that is the sort of thing that implies dark consequences to trying to use it.”

“I expected the same,” a Celestia said with a slow nod. “And yet.”

“And yet,” Darkhoof agreed, still frowning. “Makes you think, doesn’t it? What would make a device of such power and such selective judgement allow itself to be used?”

“I suppose it does beg the question,” Celestia said diplomatically.

She was beginning to fear she would have to answer this same question – the question of why they were all here – a dozen times, and equally obliquely throughout. She could not risk starting a panic about it, and telling them all in a controlled environment was the best way. It would hopefully prevent rumour and whispers from spreading from group to group.

“Indeed,” Darkhoof said. He smiled knowingly at her from behind his spectacles. “I look forward to the answer.”

Celestia nodded. “I hope it does not… disappoint.”

What else could she say?

Darkhoof inclined his head again, before walking off, heading in the direction of the zebra group. Even as he did so, however, a pair of armoured Kirin approached, walking ahead of a stately Kirin in a long black coat, wearing a pair of tinted glasses that covered his eyes.

The two Kirin guards stood aside, flanking him, as he approached. He stared at Celestia for a moment, before bowing deeply.

“Princess Celestia,” he said. “It is an honour to be hosted in Canterlot.”

“Blessed Mikado,” Celestia replied, bowing in turn. “The honour is to host your presence.”

Mikado Toshiro Kane rose, the smallest of smirks upon his face. “I look forward to speaking with you later. For now, may I presume that space has been found for my guards and attendants to be housed?”

“Of course,” Celestia said. She motioned with her wing. “My Guards will escort you.”

“Excellent,” the Mikado said. “Obviously my military personnel will remain aboard the Asahi, except for my escorts here, but I suspect my civilian attendants will be grateful for less utilitarian quarters.”

“Of course,” Celestia said,

Kane bowed, and followed the Guardsponies, his own guards still flanking him. Celestia watched him go with a small smile. She knew Kane more by reputation than experience, but from that she reasoned that he would be looking for advantage.

If any being may find advantage in this mess, she thought grimly.

Turning, Celestia saw the Zebra delegation approaching next. Queen Zolomare herself had come, flanked by stern looking Zebra warriors: she was a tall, stately Zebra, an expression of unshakeable serenity on her face. She wore a long brown cloak edged in gold and silver, and the black of her stripes was greying. She had been Queen for many years, as well, and was a respected and wise shaman in Zebra circles even before she had ascended to the throne.

“Celestia,” Zolomare inclined her head. “I bring my greetings, though I have my concerns about this meeting.”

“You would not be the only one,” Celestia smiled warmly. “Nevertheless, it is good to see you, old friend.”

“And you as well, though the times are troubled,” Zolomare replied. “Though with us all together, our chances are doubled.”

“Indeed,” Celestia nodded, “that is the hope.”

“Another thing before we continue,” Zolomare added, giving Celestia a wry smirk, “for I bring a friend in my diplomatic retinue.”

Celestia blinked. “Spell Nexus? I thought he was not due to return from his time with you for another month.”

“That was true before your call, but when he heard news he dropped it all,” Zolomare replied, smiling. “A more devoted friend you will not find – you have been at the forefront of his mind.”

Celestia smiled, inclining her head. “You bring welcome news to me, Zolomare, and I am grateful.”

“We will speak again, my oldest friend,” Zolomare said, before walking off towards her personal guards and the Royal Guard escorts assigned to them.

When she was gone, there was only one delegation left in the courtyard. The scarlet stag in the red and white cloak turned to look at her, and smiled. With a soft murmur to his companions, he trotted over to her.

“Well I figured I’d leave myself ‘til last,” Sint Erklass said, chuckling. “It looks like you’ve had your hooves full.”

“Sint,” Celestia greeted, smiling warmly. “It’s… you have no idea how good it is to see you.”

“And you, my daughter,” Sint said warmly. “I am only sorry that it has been so long since I came to see you.” His expression softened into a deep frown. “And that it took using the Concordia Maxima to precipitate it.”

“That does not matter,” Celestia said. “I’m just glad to see you. I fear we will need your wisdom for what awaits us.”

Sint Erklass’ frown deepened. “Your own wisdom is considerable, Celestia. What ails you so that you’d turn to an old Reindeer like me?”

Celestia shook her head, feeling a wave of something that might have been sorrow.

“I don’t know how to start,” she finally said. “It’s… it is a vision of horror. A warning, maybe, of what is to come. Or what might have been.”

Sint Erklass snorted. “‘Might have been’ is not ‘is’, nor ‘will be’, and there are none with the power to say for sure what is to come, daughter. There are only possibilities, fickle and fragile as they are.”