Aftersound

=================================

On their own

====================

I run. I run, and run, and run. I run from the murderous mare who killed her own father in cold blood. I run from the warehouse filled with the mutilated corpses and death. I run from this twisted world as fast as my hooves allowed.

Why? Goddesses, why? What did I do to deserve being in this nightmare? Is it my punishment for failing The Elements? It’s because of me we were defeated by Sombra when we first met him. The whole war was my fault. Is it my punishment for failing her? If only I tried harder and stopped Chrysalis, she would be alive. I wouldn’t have failed The Elements and there would be no war, and all the Princesses would be alive and happy, and we would all be in a world lead by both Royal Sisters, and...

And then I slammed with the force of a freight train into something. Shards of the just solidified plastic showered my surroundings like shrapnel. Metal parts, screws and nuts followed their plastic comrades with a loud ringing. With a sickening scrunch my right eye was pulverized into a rain of glistening glass shards falling on the rusted floor below.

Now, not much different from the heaps of scrap on the outside, I fell on the floor in a tangle of limbs. As soon as the last screw stopped bouncing on the floor, the following silence was filled with the sounds of fluids dripping from my body; no doubt it was my hydraulic system. But I didn’t really care right now. I was already listening for the only sounds that mattered to me at the moment and which I dreaded to hear the most; the clop of hooves or a rustle of metal wings. However, I only heard myself continuing to hemorrhage.

The countless lines of warnings were flashing in my vision, but I didn’t bother to read them. I raised my head and in the blinking light of my now only eye I saw a flat concrete surface right in front of me, freshly smeared with something oily. I missed the steps. My gaze began to drift upwards. No doubts the girls heard my unexpected collision and were going to open the hatch.

But it wasn’t the staircase. It was a wall, a right turn to be precise. Wait... there were no turns in the maintenance tunnel... How long had I been running? It took me only a few minutes of a slow and careful trot to get to the converter room. And though I couldn’t tell how much time I spend running, I certainly was carelessly galloping as fast as my limbs would allow for quite a while.

Where was I? Did I enter the wrong door? Actually, it made sense now, I had to have broken through it, although I didn’t close the door behind me when I first entered the room with the converter. This didn’t answer my initial question though. Most likely it was another maintenance tunnel, but I had no idea where it led. I couldn’t remember the map, not that I paid enough attention to it in the first place. One thing was certain; I couldn’t go back, it would be a certain death. Or worse. In hindsight, I shouldn’t be worried about Pepper Mercury following me, not for now at least. The converter room will take awhile to cool down, also this tunnel was way too narrow for flying and I ran quite fast.

That left me with the only option, gather myself up and press on. Yes, it might take some time for the converter room to become passable for living creatures once again, but it won’t take forever. Sooner or later either Mercury, or her gang, would come looking for the witnesses, or just to get rid of me because I was an equinoid.

Scuff Gear was right all along… At this moment, if I had a heart, it would skip a beat. Flower and Wire were supposed to wait me at the entrance of the first maintenance tunnel. It was only a question of time before Mercury finds them. She didn’t even need to get close, her rifle could take care of the two fillies before they even realised what was happening. I had no time to lose.

With the renewed motivation I tried to stand up, only to find that it wasn’t that simple. My body was absolutely wrecked. I probably would have passed out or even died from the shock of pain if I wasn’t made from metal and plastic. My right shoulder took most of the impact and was now shattered with the half-destroyed hoof limply hanging from it. My other hoof didn’t fare much better. It still moved, but the forelimb itself was bent and twisted. The right side of my head was demolished, I was blind in my right eye and after turning my head to the sides I realized that my right ear wasn’t functioning anymore either. But it all wasn’t as bad as the growing puddle underneath me. There were two options, it was either the oil from the hydraulic system or the crystals cooling fluid. Both options were equally bad. Actually, the former was worse. And what was even worse I could be losing both vital fluids simultaneously. My remaining limbs were already feeling stiff, and eventually, they would stop moving altogether leaving me to the mercy of fate. And I didn’t know what would be worse: to be found by Mercury or lie motionless until the magic in my crystals ran out. If the dripping liquid was the cooling fluid, it meant that my crystals may overheat at any moment and force an emergency shutdown of my consciousness, which wasn’t a delightful prospect either. I could only hope that I wouldn’t need a manual reboot after that happened.

It was a truly dire situation. There was no telling where this tunnel might lead; it could easily be a dead-end. I had no way back, unless I wanted to die for the second time. In less than an hour I was going to become disabled one way or another, and I didn’t know how long it could take Mercury to track down Flower and Wire.

It was hopeless and I was running of time... just like Scuff Gear told me. Guess he wasn’t making things up, not that it mattered now. Still, I didn’t want to spend my last moments in this damp rusty tunnel. If I was lucky, I was at least going to make it to the surface. And if I was very lucky, I might have a chance to catch a glimpse of Her Sun, before I returned to the rust of the Edge.

More carefully this time, I tried to rise to my hooves once again. With my left limb shaking from the strain and my right uselessly dragging on the floor, I began to slowly limp forwards, trying not to slip on my oily “blood”. The turn took my path to the right, and I followed the road of rust and dust.

As I agonizingly hobbled on my three hooves, relying on the flickering glow of my eye for light, I realized how surreal the whole situation was. One day I was conducting the trial of the mechanical contraption to see it be destroyed before my eyes and witness my friend suffer, maybe even die. The next day I was the mechanical contraption that was getting destroyed. And my friends were to suffer once again and they might die too. I get it. It was a punishment, the fate I deserved for letting down all of Equestria. For letting Her down.

With all my thoughts being consumed by desperation and guilt, I failed to notice a wall materializing right in front of me. Because this time I didn’t try to outrun death, I only bumped into it with the remains of my muzzle. The impact still made my whole body shake, dropping a few of the remaining loose screws and showering the floor with the leaking fluids in the process.

I turned my head to the right. Damp concrete. To the left, the inky darkness. It was not a dead-end yet, just another turn. There was still some hope left. Gathering myself together, I continued my unsteady advance. It was definitely the hydraulic system’s fluid slowly streaming down my legs. I felt a bit guilty about it, Scuff Gear spent all that time and effort replacing the pump, and now, because of my carelessness, all his hard work was going to be for nothing.

I didn’t know how much time had passed. There were no heartbeats and no breaths to slice the eternity into pieces, only my uneven stumbling through the black nothingness. Each step was a labor and felt like it was taking minutes to make.

I was surrounded by the void. I felt like I was blending with it. Sparkling in the blinking light of my eye, the floating dust disturbed by the shuffle of my hooves, was all the reality left for me. And in those dancing specks of rust I saw my life flashing before my eye.

How I was raised in Canterlot. How I learned about Her. How I passed the entrance exam to the School for Gifted Unicorns and met Her. How I was sent to Ponyville and met my friends. How we cleansed the Goddess from the madness and how we turned the God of Chaos into stone.

And how Her pristine white body hit the floor. I’m going to die for the third time today, because that was when I died for the first time. As Her gorgeous wings laid sprayed across the marble and blood ran from Her cracked horn I felt life trickling from my heart. As I watched Her feathers rain around me and Her crown roll from Her no longer flowing mane, I knew that I lost. What I lost. What happened later never really mattered to me. How Cadance and Shining Armor defeated the changeling queen. How the Crystal Empire emerged amongst the frozen wastes of the north and brought King Sombra back with it. How I failed to activate The Element of Magic. How we failed to stop him. Nothing mattered anymore because the Sun had set, never to rise again ever again. And it was all because of me, it was all my failure.

I failed. And now, when I was given a chance to redeem my sins by saving two fillies from this Tartarus, I failed again. I left them to die, to be killed, just like Her...

Again, an unwelcoming bulwark of the tunnel wall met my muzzle, this time almost gently. I slumped against it, being no longer able to stand on my own. It would take mere minutes before I completely ran out of a pressure in the hydraulic system. I didn’t care to check both directions, but right in front of me was the same hungry darkness, ready to devour me. I obliged.

Leaning on the wall I limped forward, filling the benighted tunnel with the screeching noise of my broken metal bones scraping against the concrete. I was dragging myself into the blackness for what felt like an eternity; then suddenly the stronghold of the wall supporting my wrecked body disappeared. As I was falling towards the floor, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to stand up ever again. This was where I was going to take my final rest, in this forsaken passage under the graveyard of equestrian progress. I only wished I could pass out, but fate had no mercy. I would have to witness how rust would claim me. More than ever I wished to see that clement warning “Leakage in the crystal cooling system detected” but it didn’t appear in my vision. Instead, I saw a blinding light.

“By the Machine Goddess!”

As I lie on the floor in a lifeless heap of a metal scrap, unable to even turn my head, I heard the voice again. It had a metallic echo to it and sounded surprised.

“Holy matrixes, what this biofilth did to you, sister?!” Loudly exclaimed the light as it rushed to me. What? Goddess? Sister? Who was it talking about Is it the end? Was I to meet Her? Was Luna there too?

As the light grew closer, I saw an equine silhouette outlined by the bright incandescence. Was it Her light? But, in fact it was a lamp attached to a pony’s head. I guess it wasn’t the afterlife after all, and I was still “alive”. The pony was fully clad in metal armor and had their eyes replaced with prosthetics. Wait… it wasn’t a pony! It was an equinoid, just like me. I couldn’t really tell if this equinoid was a mare or a stallion ,did it even apply to the mechanical creatures, but they sounded feminine, so I decided to settle on mare for now.

The mechanical mare closed the distance between us in a few hasty leaps and immediately began to inspect my body, asking questions in the process.

“Are you still online, sister?” She inquired with strong concern in her voice.

“Yes,” came my simple and curt reply, much more steady than I anticipated it to be. Guess whatever I used to speak was not only independent from the hydraulic system, but also very sturdy. I imagined my muzzle was almost completely demolished by the first crash.

“You look like you tried to fight The Souleater with your bare hooves! What happ… Doesn’t matter. Can you move?” She spoke fast and quiet, as if she was talking to herself and not to me. The equinoid mare was inspecting my stiff hooves while trying to bend them.

I knew for sure that I couldn’t, but I still made a futile attempt to produce any movement.

“I can’t. I don’t think I have any pressure left in the hydraulic system,” I answered, surprising myself with how calm I was. Feeling any emotions in this body was strange… I could feel them to the full extent if I wanted, or more correctly, allow them to be. But in any other time things like panic weren’t taking control other me. I had to admit, it was a useful… feature.

“The hydraulics? Wow, you are one of the old models, aren’t you?” The mare sounded surprised. Wait, what? There was an alternative to this all too brittle system? “Anyway, I think I can fix it. I’ll take you to my hideout. Hold on, sister.”

With those words the metal pony hauled my remains onto her back with a grunt. I thought I saw my right forelimb be left on the floor, but the light moved too fast and I couldn’t check my body to confirm this.

As the hospitable mare carried me through the tunnels on her back like foal tired of walking, I was left with three options: observe, talk and think.

The first was pretty much impossible. My body lied across her back in such a fashion that my head was dangling at her side, pointed downwards. The only things I could see were her swiftly moving hooves, the floor and my swinging hoof. And yes, I had one less forelimb now. How wonderful.

I could have talked to her, but something was stopping me from it. As usual, I had so many things to ask about, but for now I wanted to think about what was already said. Because there was something that began to bother me now when I thought of it.

The Machine Goddess. Wire and Flower told me that all the Princesses were gone. If my memory serves me right, there were always only two Goddesses and they were the Princesses. Discord was more of a spirit than a God, albeit an extremely powerful one, though I didn’t think he was the case this time. If there were to be a Goddess, an actual living deity, she was bound to be a true alicorn, the Princess. Did it mean that a new true alicorn was born? Was that even possible? That was, of course, if this equinoid did really mean what she said. Back in my time, ponies often used the similar expression, but it was never thrown around carelessly. When Princess Luna returned, it changed accordingly. It changed again later. All in all it was strange, and somewhat concerning.

The other concerning thing was the floor, which was growing closer to my muzzle as the equinoid carrying me galloped through the rusty passage. Still covered in the slippery oil from my damaged hydraulic system, I was slipping from the mare’s back. Apparently, she noticed this as well. In the final moment before I decided to comment, she shifted her shoulders and nudged my body to move it a bit more across her spine. The sudden movement made my head turn. This time my gaze was directed in the same direction the mare was going.

After another turn, we were greeted by an entrance in the wall that was glowing with the steady warm orange light, as if a hearth was lit inside. The equinoid mare entered the room without missing a beat and quickly crossed it to get to the large workbench in the corner. In one mighty sweep she threw away the metal scrap on the workbench and carefully placed my broken body on the table.

I still couldn’t move, but to my fortune I wasn’t placed on the workbench facing a wall, so I had a chance to take in my surroundings while the equinoid was walking around the room, gathering some spare parts and tools. From first glance my saviour’s hideout looked like a mix between Flower’s and Scuff Gear’s workshops. In the middle of the room stood a contraption, which by my guess, served as a generator or rather a smaller version of the converter I had to deal before.

On the crate near the converter stood the only source of light in this room, which I mistook for a fire at first. It was very similar to the lamp I saw before in Flower’s shack. A glass cylinder filled with a pulsing soft orange glow framed by two lids of dark and slightly rusty metal. It looked pretty simple, however I could only imagine how it worked. The lightning tube caught my attention for a bit longer than it should have, the erratic pulse of the mysterious source of light drawing my eye to it. As I looked at the lamp I saw that the glow wasn’t homogenous in its nature, it was an everflowing fluorescence of countless little embers. This observation still didn’t reveal the operating principle of the illuminant.

There were other things in the room deserving my attention of course. I looked around as much as my motion deprived position would allow. Most of the contents of the equinoid’s dwelling were represented by the countless crates filled to the brim with the everpresent metal scrap. Though I had to note that the equinoids’ parts and pony prosthetics were the prevailing theme amongst the junk, not that I could differentiate all the junk from my position anyway. Still, it didn’t make the iron scrap interesting.

I could see no signs of any personal belongings or anything that could possibly serve as a resting place. Did she even need it? Did equinoids even need sleep?

Speaking of which, since the kindly equinoid mare placed me on the workbench she was restlessly dashing around the room, diving in and out of the crates, looking for something. Sometimes she would whisk out a detail or a tool, nod to herself approvingly and put it near me, without sparing a glance to my motionless body. Then the mare would return to her search.

That gave me an opportunity to take a look at the first equinoid I ever saw.

She was a size of an average earth pony mare with an average physique. That I took for the armor when I first saw her in fact was the slightly rusted plates of metal attached to her frame, covering most of her body. In the gaps between them I could see the joints and the thick wires entwining the steel skeleton. It was obvious that some of those plates definitely weren’t the original – they all were a bit different in shape and color. Her metal flanks bore no cutiemarks – I would be surprised if they did. The only unique features of her body, aside from it being fully artificial, were her eyes and mane with the tail.

For starter, the mare’s artificial eyes weren’t as large and bulky as Wire’s prosthetic. They glowed with a pale blue, almost teal, color. But the most interesting thing about them were the irises – they were “outside”. The focus lenses framed in the thin metal were sliding across the curved surface of her eyeballs, moved by the four silver stripes crossing each of her eyes. It was certainly a peculiar concept.

Her mane and tail were made of brass chains. It looked a bit bizarre, because the chains links were giving an impression of her “hair” being curly and yet it behaved like a straight hair. The color clashed with itself as well – some of the chains were gleaming with the pinkish orange of a freshly polished copper, while others were oxidized to bright turquoise. All those chains weren’t hanging freely – in a few places they were gathered in the locks using the chains themselves as binding. If it was an attempt to look more like a pony and less like a machine it certainly was an interesting approach.

The equinoid mare approached me with another batch of spare parts, but this time she looked over my battered body and shook her head.

“Those meatbags, they are the worst in the Edge. If not the holy mission, I would never set my hoof there. It is a miracle that you are still online, sister,” she unexpectedly said in a dissatisfied and angry voice. The mare still talked very fast, though at least completely comprehensible with an intelligible pronunciation. And this time it sounded like I was actually being spoken to instead of her saying her thoughts aloud to herself.

“Why do you keep calling me ‘sister’?” It was something that bothered me since I was addressed like that for the first time. Was it because I was an equinoid? Were all the equinoids considered siblings by the merit of being an artificial form of life massively produced by some company? It didn’t sound quite logical in my head.

“Huh?” My question caught the equinoid off guard as she was already half-turned from me, ready to continue her rummaging through the metal scrap. “Are you not a member of our Church? I thought they sent you to help me,” the mare answered me with a question, sounding perplexed and deeply disappointed.

Church? There had not been churches in Equestria for a long while. Ponies revered the Princesses, but weren’t prone to creating any religious cults. Or at least not of a not malicious nature.

“No, sorry. I don’t even know what church you are talking about,” I answered. If I could I would have accompanied it with a shake of my head, but for now it was out of question. Obviously, this mare was expecting her fellows.

“How can you not know!” She exclaimed turning back to me. Suddenly the equinoid froze and looking at me with a suspicion asked with a malice in her tone. “Wait a moment… are you one of The Accursed?”

The situation was quickly escalating into a threatening territory. I didn’t know what being “The Accursed” meant, but judging by this mare’s reaction I better not be.

“I… I don’t know what are you talking about…” I gave her the only answer that felt like a safe option at the moment.

Without asking anything, but glancing at me warily, the equinoid mare tore away one of the plates from my chest in one rough motion and peeked inside. With her eyes glued to my intestines she stood dumbstruck for a few moments. Finally, stammering, she uttered:

“What the… What are those? I’ve never seen anything like those.” The mare looked me in the eye. “What are you?”

I already knew that my memory crystals were unusual, but I still didn’t expect such a strong reaction. And about her question… She saved me, and I was very grateful for that. But I was already saved recently, and now my previous savour wanted to kill me and my friends. It wouldn’t be wise to give away too much information. I should proceed with caution.

“I’m an equinoid.” It wasn’t exactly the truth and didn’t explain the nature of my crystals. I decided to risk a bit. “Though, I was a pony until yesterday…”

“You were a pony?” The equnoid asked me in a return, her voice dripping with doubt. ”But True Transfererense is impossible, ponies are denied from sharing the consciousness with our Holy Mother.” She went silent for a moment, thinking. “No, no.” The mare shook her head vigorously, her chain “hair” ringing soundly. “There must be something wrong with your crystals, they shouldn’t be the solid gems. I don’t know what happened to you, but the holy vessels mustn’t be tampered with.” She thought for a moment again. ”And even if you are telling the truth…” The metal pony shook her head again, making chaines ring. “Nah, it can’t be. You are an equinoid, not a leather bag. That’s not possible.” That conclusion obviously dispelled any doubts in her mind and the mare continued to talk in a much more positive tone. ”I can help with your chassis, but working with the crystals is far beyond my skills. You need help, and our Church can provide it. I’m sure you will join us as soon as you see the truth.”

“The truth?” I echoed her last words. I was curious about that church she kept talking about, but more than that, I was relieved that my dire situation had passed, at least for now.

Something sparked in the equinoid eyes, she straightened herself and loudly proclaimed, “Well, the priests can explain it to you better, but you should know that as an equinoid you are a part of our Holy Mother, you but a little echo of the consciousness of the Machine Goddess!”

Without waiting for my reaction the mare returned to her activity of searching the piles of iron scrap littering every place in this room.

That… Explained absolutely nothing and only confused me further. The only thing I got was that the Machine Goddess appeared to be an metaphysical entity, opposed to the Princesses. So, there wasn’t a mysterious new alicorn somewhere in this world. Probably. All in all, no information I learned from this mare made any sense for me so far, but at least she was friendly towards me, except for that little hitch. Not to mention the Church seemed to be a benevolent towards the equinoids.

Once again the equnoid mare returned with tools and various pieces of metal scrap, though this time she didn’t go back to the crates. Without a word she begun to work on repairing me.

The metal pony gently repositioned my body, so I would lie on my side instead of a heap of the tangled limbs. She straightened my hooves as much it was possible. The first thing the equinoid did was remove the twisted and bent parts of my body. With her deft hooves she unscrewed plates of metal and removed shards of plastic still miraculously clinging to my frame. The screws were put in a box on the edge the workbench, while the damaged metal was thrown in one the crates. The plastic she just thrown under her hooves. As the mare moved to my head, and briefly glanced in my eye, I decided to ask her a few questions.

“You said you were on the a holy mission. What was your task?” I remembered Scuff Gear mentioned that the equinoids were not welcomed in the Edge, so there must be a reason for this mare to risk her life and live in the tunnels under the sector.

“I search the surface above for any usable spare parts and the old metal for the needs of the Church,” she curtly answered me. Well, that explained all the scrap strewn around the room. But it didn’t explain why.

“The old metal?” I could understand why somepony, or rather, someequinoid would need spare parts; right now she was repairing me using them. But why would anypony need some old rusty metal?

“Shouldn’t you kn… Ah, forget it. The old metal, be it steel or copper can be smelted into something worthy. The crap which goes out this sector begins to spalt in a year of use,” The equinoid explained. It made sense, Scuff gear mentioned that the quality of the recycled metal was not that good. By “the old metal” she probably referred to something like the steel Tin Flower used to make her prosthetic hoof.

“How do you get it out of here?” Was my next question. There seemed to be a lot of scrap she had hauled into this room.

“Usually through the zebras in The Foal mines sector,” she told me and turned my body to the other side.

“Foal… Mines?” I repeated her words incredulously. Did they really force the foals to do the heavy labor in dangerous underground conditions? Even taking into account what I already had seen in this sector it was still shocking.

“Yeah, you know, the one adjacent to this huge garbage can,” the equinoid answered me, oblivious to the true nature of my inquiry.

“Did you mean Nebula’s sector?” According to my recent memory there were two sectors looking like they were used for mining resources. One of them looked completely abandoned, though I could be wrong.

“I don’t care about the meat’s names,” scoffed the metal mare. Ouch. Seems like she strongly despised ponies. I wondered if it was her personal trait or something all the followers of the Machine Goddess shared. And remembering a few little details of what she told me. I began to doubt the benevolence of the Church.

“Do they really have foals working in the mines?” I just had to know that.

“Why would I care? But as far as know the zebras grow mushrooms in there.” The equinoid was growing visibly irritated from talking about living beings. Her motions grew a little rougher and more twitchy.

Suddenly it struck me. There were probably no foals in those mines. They were called that because of the Foal Mountain range. I felt so stupid. But I also realised something else. If this equinoid mare sent what she finds to the Church through the zebras in the Nebula’s sector...

“...Does that mean we are in the tunnels leading to them?” Seemed like in the blind stumbling through the underground passages I somehow came to the right place in the end.

“Aye. I’ll show you the way out as soon as I finish the repairs.” She not only confirmed my guess, but also ignited a spark of hope within me.

From the Nebula’s sector I could get to the city! But Flower and Wire… How long did I spend underground? An hour? Two hours? Half a day? I had to look the truth in the eye. If Pepper Mercury had already found them, looking for the girls would be just a suicide mission for me. If they somehow realised that something was wrong and left before Mercury could kill them, looking for the two fillies in the huge labyrinth-like junkyard would be an exercise in futility topped with a risk of being found by Mercury or any other hostile ponies.

“Could you show me how to get to Canterlot too?” I asked the equinoid mare with a hope in my voice.

“No, sorry, I have to return to my mission,” she sadly told me, “you will have to do it by yourself, just stick with the zebras, they will lead you to the Tunnels. There you will find our brothers and sisters and they will help you with your holy vessels.”

Huh, she was still convinced that there was something wrong with my memory crystals. And interestingly, she didn’t talk about zebras with an open disgust as she did with ponies.

“But I planned to get a fake ID.” Maybe she would know there I could find somepony who makes them? Or maybe they even made fake IDs at the Church? They didn’t sound like a quite legal organisation to me.

“You don’t need an ID to be amongst our brethren. We accept any equinoid who shares our faith in the Machine Goddess.” It certainly wasn’t the answer I hoped to hear.

At this point she finished removing the last damaged pieces of my body and leaned with her hooves on the workbench, now looking over my almost naked frame.

“Ugh, I can tell that you were made by a meatbag. Missing half of the details, and those which are here are connected all wrong. Meat will never get our Holy Mother’s designs right.” I felt offended for Tin Flower and Scuff Gear, who obviously were mechanics with formidable talents. However, I refrained from commenting on that. No matter how much I wanted to defend my friends, in the same time I didn’t want to be left on the table like this. I needed help, and for that I needed to hold my metaphorical tongue.

With a huff, the equinoid mare resumed working on my body. The first thing she did was to take something from the workbench and insert it into my previously emptied eye socket. After a few moments something clicked inside my head and I regained the missing half of my vision. At first, it was blurry, just like when I woke up in Flower’s shack, but after a few clicking sounds in became just as focused as my other eye. However, the left eye still remained cracked, with slightly distorted vision.

Then the the mare repeated the same with my hearing. She installed the microphone, and after a few moments of noise and a few sound artifacts I regained all my senses completely.

The hydraulic system was next on the list. After the equinoid mare fiddled with the resin tubes for a while and refilled the pump with the fresh oil, I felt life coming to my limbs. I tried to move and rise from the table, but the metal hooves firmly pressed me to the workbench, the work wasn’t finished yet.

Suddenly I was assaulted by a barrage of different feelings. I felt pressure all over my body, I felt myself heavy and light, hot and cold all at the same time. I felt strong vertigo and for a moment lost any sense of orientation in space. After a few moments the chaos of the feelings subdued and I… felt the world around. I felt the cold metal of the workbench under my body. I felt the mare’s hooves touching the back of my head. I felt the chillness and humidity of the underground tunnel. I smelled rust and dust in the air. I almost felt alive.

“What did you do?” I exclaimed, still shocked by all the regained feelings I thought I had lost forever.

“Hm? You mean the perception module? It wasn’t properly connected, so I rewired it,” she casually explained to me.

“Thanks a lot.” Was all I could utter.

“No problem...” The metal pony paused for a moment, “...sister. I’m going to attach the new hooves, give you a decent new plating and you are good to go.”

The next half an hour was spent in silence, disturbed only by the occasional sounds of the dropped screws or metal parts clicking against each others. Finally, the equinoid mare put her tools on the workbench and took a step backwards.

“Phew. It’s done. As I said, I can’t do much about the holy vessels and you better get a full upgrade. And I don’t know where did you get that custom frame, but it’s not going to last for long.” The equinoid sounded proud with her work as well as genuinely concerned for my future.

I carefully climbed off the workbench. Now with my regained sense of balance, I could feel the surface under my hooves and it became a much easier to move around.

“Thanks again. I’m so...” I began to speak, but the equinoid mare interrupted me with a wave of her hoof.

“Don’t mention it, sister. We equinoids have to care about each other if we want to see our Holy Mother be freed.” She dismissed my thanks with another mention of the Machine Goddess.

Then she proceeded to clean the workbench and sort the tools. It lasted for quite a while and I began to suspect that she forgot I was there.

“You wanted to show me where I can meet the zebras, right?” I decided to remind her, unsure if she remembered.

The equnoid mare froze in her tracks.

“Yes. Right. Sorry, blanked on it.” She dropped the tools on the workbench and trotted to one of the crates in the corner of room.

I thought that the mare forgot about me again, but she emerged from the box not with another piece of scrap, but a small object in her mouth. She walked to me and took it in her hoof before she stretched it out. It was a small rectangular piece of metal with elaborate, yet chaotic, engravings on its surface.

I blinked in surprise. Whoops. I forgot my eyes zoom in. However, only my “old” eye did it. Disoriented by the clashing images in my vision, I blinked again. Seeing my indecision, the equinoid motioned an outstretched hoof towards me.

“It’s the token of our Church. It holds my e-signature. Give it to any of our brethren or the zebras and they will help you to get to one the temples,” she explained in her pattering manner.

“Thank you.” Carefully I took the token with my hoof. It was a good gift, very useful. But only if I managed to find where to put it.

Noticing my confusion, the equinoid nodded to herself and dashed to the crate from which she took the token in a first place. After a few seconds she dug something out of it and returned to me.

It was a metal casing with a chain attached. The mare took the token from my hoof and put it in the steel frame. Then she put the whole thing inside one the gaps between the plates on my chest. I felt it dangling inside, but not too loosely to be bothersome.

As she retracted her hoof, she explained, “You can get it out and put back any time. Just give it a try.”

I did as she told, and indeed, I could bring the encased token in and out of the small cavity in my chest without any trouble.

I turned to her, but before I could expressed my gratitude, she laughed. It wasn’t a very pleasant sound, as if metal gears were grinding against each other.

“Don’t thank me again, just take it, sister. We are ready to go now,” she said and began to trot towards the exit.

Putting the token inside my chest I followed her.

The equinoid mare confidently navigated through the damp tunnels. Despite what Flower had mentioned, that all the mold has died in that one very cold winter, the fungal smell clearly dominated the stale air of the underground passage.

After about half a dozen turns, the mare stopped. Pointing her hoof forward she said, “There is an access door at the end of this tunnel, it leads outside. There are always some zebras in the mining sector, just ask any of them to lead you to the Church of the Machine Goddess. Be blessed, sister!” With those last words she nodded to me and departed into the darkness of the tunnel behind, not waiting for my reply.

As the mare left, I realized that she didn’t tell me her name and I forgot to ask. I hoped not every equinoid was so reserved and also hateful towards live ponies.

I turned away from the light of her lamp as it faded into the blackness behind the last turn. The dark abyss of the tunnel was ready to swallow me once again. But this time I was prepared. I didn’t have a lamp, like that mare did, but my new eye gave off much more light than before. Using it as a flashlight I began to walk forward.

The tunnel around me was just like any other tunnel I traversed before. Dusty, rusty and damp. Yet, at some point I came upon a hole in the concrete roof. It was dark outside, about an hour or so before the sunset if I was right. But that wasn’t what drew my attention. Underneath the jagged tear in the wall, a puddle of water collected in a washed depression on the floor. I slowly approached it and gazed at the reflective surface of the dirty water.

From the wallow two ghastly, glowing and mismatched eyes looked back at me. They were different in the color, the left one was softly glowing with green and was cracked, while the right was brightly shining with a cold white color. They were also different in the shape and size. The green eye was similar to Red Wire’s prosthesis, bulky with a thick border and square in shape. The white eye was smaller and a somewhat delicate, shaped like a perfect circle. The muzzle around those eyes was covered in incongruous rusty metal plates with colorful wires poking at the gaps in between them. They weren’t fixed in position however, they had the freedom of movement, as if to mimic facial expressions in some grotesque way. The triangular ears were covered with a grating, in which a pair of fans slowly rotated inside each ear. Between the ears and the eyes I could see the fine grid of the microphones. My toothless mouth was a dead-end, in the depths of which a similar metal grid of a speaker casing lied. Away from the head the plating had larger and larger gaps between the pieces of the metal, all of them rusted to a different degree. Or was it the caked blood? In the gaps of intricate wiring and tubes were the bare “bones”. Some plates and wires were simply taped to the frame. Some metal parts were slightly bent from the previous misadventures in the Edge’s dungeons. And absolutely everything was rusted.

From the small pool of water an ancient looking machine gazed emotionlessly at me. And I gazed back at myself. I didn’t feel shock or some kind of disgust. It was an expected sight. After all, I had already seen myself, but not whole. I shook my head. This was my life now, I had to deal with what I got. After all, life is not what we want and not what happens to us, but how we deal with it. I was miraculously given a chance to do better than I did once. I better be smarter this time.

I turned away from the uncanny image in the water and trotted onward. It didn’t take me long to reach the stairs leading to the hatch my saviour mentioned before. I rose to the top of the stairs and used my withers and shoulder to push it.

With a groan the door opened and I raised my head to take in the surroundings.

Come on, give me a break.

I found myself surrounded by a large group of equines. Each and every one of them had their wide eyes glued to me, their bodies frozen in the middle of what they were doing. And none of them had stripes on their coats.

“Oh, Brass Litany, you’ve got a new body,” a mare from the group of ponies jovially said. Then she looked over me critically and added. “Well, maybe not that new.”

It was going much better than I expected. However, it was only because I was taken for somepony named Brass Litany. I bet it was the name of the equinoid mare from the tunnels. It sounded somewhat fitting her.

“Um, I’m not Brass Litany,” I corrected the mare. I wasn’t sure if it was a right course of action to take, but I didn’t want to impersonate anypony or any equinoid and rely on the lies.

My reply was met with an awkward silence. I didn’t receive any hostile glances or I provoked any reaction. If anything, all those ponies, except for the mare who spoke to me, looked like they couldn’t care less.

Said mare blinked a few times in confusion. Then she shrugged and spoke again, “Well, it was nice to meet you Not-Brass-Litany!”

After those words the mare and other members of the group looked at me, then at each other and shrugged. They rose from where they sat and began to walk away without sparing me a single glance.

That...didn’t go too bad? It was a good start. I really expected to be torn apart or something like that. But it seemed that ponies of different sectors treat equinoids differently. Even if those ponies didn’t seem extremely friendly, they weren’t openly hostile to me either. And if I wanted to find any zebras, it would be better to use any help I could find rather than wander aimlessly in unfamiliar territory. I had to try my luck and ask them for help, otherwise I could just consider myself lost.

The group was trotting away lazily, almost dragging their hooves, but I was lost in my indecisiveness for a while, so I had to dash after them to catch up.

“Wait!” I yelled, closing to the group.

Most of the group didn’t even bother to turn in back, a few just flicked their ears and only two ponies turned to me. One of them was the mare who talked to me before, though she didn’t stop or even slowed down, continuing to drudge forward with her head half-turned in my general direction.

“Hm?” The mare raised her eyebrow questioningly.

“Uh… I’m looking… Could you tell where I can find zebras here?” I asked her as I caught up.

“Hah!” She guffawed at my inquiry. With a smile she continued. “The question is, where can’t you find zebras in this sector? You need to ask more specifically.”

“I need to find a group of zebras who are planning on going to Canterlot,” I tried once again.

The mare thought for a few seconds before answering.

“I’m going to meet some zebras soon, as far as I know they are heading to the Tunnels after we finish our biz.” She glanced at me shrugging. “You may tag along if you want.”

The rest of the herd didn’t react at all, as if I wasn’t even here. But it didn’t really matter, did it? As long as they were open to me being around. Though, I felt compelled to confirm that. This whole group was giving me a bit uneasy feeling.

“You don’t mind me being an equinoid and a stranger?” I raised the issue.

“Nah. We have lots of both kinds around,” she dismissed my concerns, “speaking of which, how did you end up here miss not-Brass-Litany? You look like you came from the Junkyard, but I don’t remember them being very welcoming to equinoids.”

So it was actually more of a territorial thing after all. As before, I decided to be careful with what I was revealing to others about myself. Oh, and if I didn’t want to end up without a name, like what happened with Brass Litany, I better introduce myself. It was the polite thing to do, especially considering that this mare was helping me. With Scuff Gear being the sole exception, I doubted that anypony else could possibly remember me. After all, the old mechanic only learned my name from the mare who could have personally known me, not by himself. On the other hoof, I didn’t have enough data to have a definitive statistical output of the chance that somepony could recognize me by my name…

I noticed the mare looking at me expectedly. I was too lost in my thoughts, making her wait. So much for the politeness.

“It’s… a long story. And my name is Twilight Sparkle.” It hoped that it was an answer balanced between not giving too much away and being polite enough at the same time.

“Nice to meet you, Twilight.” She sounded content with the answer. Nonchalantly she continued, “I’m Nebula. Nice name, by the way. Most ponies have too technical a name these days, and don’t let me get started on equinoids…” She chuckled.

I, however, didn’t share her amusement. As soon as I heard that name I froze in my tracks and started to panic. She wasn’t just any random mare. She was Nebula. the leader of this whole sector. No doubt, the ponies who accompanied her were the henchponies. What I got myself into again… I was just thinking that fortune was going to smile on me for once. Maybe I could salvage this situation...

“I’m so sorry, I should have asked... I mean you are the leader here… I should just...” I began to apologize, getting tongue-tied from how nervous I was.

Nebula turned back and just rolled her eyes.

“Come on, drop it off, I’m not some kind of an important mare anymore.” She accompanied the motion of her eyes with the reassuring reply.

“But… But this sector is named after you!” I still tried to wrap my mind around the situation. Was she the leader of the local gang or not? Nebula didn’t intend to stop for the conversation, so I had to catch up with her again.

“It is?” She raised eyebrow in surprise. “Last time we received food rations it was ‘The Foal Mountains Mining Facility’,” she said in the mocking voice. “So I don’t know where you got that.”

Either Nebula was that easy-going, or just modest. Or maybe she wasn’t a gang leader anymore. Anyway, the situation seemed to stabilise, so I calmed down a little.

Nebula didn’t seem to be very invested in the conversation, almost imperceptibly humming some unfamiliar melody to herself. Honestly, I didn’t have any idea how she was supposed to look, but certainly not like this. I expected the leader of a sector to look rough, tough and… how would Rainbow Dash put it? Badass. That’s the word.

In reality Nebula was a unicorn, and not one of particularly large size like my almost executioner who now was missing his cranium. She was a bit taller than me, but it was more due to her age than anything else. Yes, this was the most unexpected, Nebula wasn’t young. Curls of her once orange and green chaotic puffy mane were now turning entirely grey. The same fate was awaiting the now faded, but at some point a vibrant deep blue, coat. A net of wrinkles filled with what I assumed was rock dust accumulated with years spent in the mines circled her chapped lips and light-blue eyes. However, ignoring that Nebula trotted slowly, she moved effortlessly for a mare of her age anda pony who supposedly spent her entire life doing heavy labor in the depths of the mountain. Like her companions, and basically all the ponies I had seen so far, Nebula was covered in rags to provide some warmth against the chill in the air, making it impossible to see her cutie mark.

“It was the ponies from Orange Grime’s sector who told me about you,” I resurrected our died out conversation with the simple explanation.

“Ah, Orange Grime, that newcomer who was kicked from the city and thought that he could own a whole sector with fear alone. I wonder if he is still alive,” Nebula mused, shaking her head.

Though I didn’t see Pepper Mercury kill anypony except for her father, I was pretty sure that she dealt with Orange Grime as well. I didn’t know exactly why she killed her own parent, probably so she would get Grime’s position instead of Dross Rain. But for that to happen she had to get rid of Grime in a first place.

“Um… I don’t think he is...” I muttered unsuredly. But for Nebula it was a sufficient answer.

“It was only a question of time, really.” She huffed. “Guns do not equal power, no matter how many of them you bring with you.” Glancing at me she added, “It still doesn’t answer the question why you are here, unless you killed Orange Grime.”

Her last words made me think. I certainly did not. I never met him. I didn’t even know what Orange Grime looked like. And yet… if it wasn’t for my actions, Pepper Mercury wouldn’t have attacked the warehouse. By that logic, I was to blame for the deaths of anypony who was there, on both sides of the conflict. Was I really responsible for all the murders? I didn’t know it would turn into a massacre. I couldn't know when I agreed to help… or could I? Pepper Mercury had shown clear signs of being blood-minded and Scuff Gear explicitly warned me about her. But then again, did I really had a choice? If I refused to help it would have ended in the massacre just as well, but with Mercury and the Edge ponies being on the slaughtered side. The result would be all the same, death. No matter if I was in equation or not. It didn’t magically take any responsibility from me, but it did make its burden less heavy. Yet I still feel like it was my hooves, not only Mercury’s, covered in Dross Rain’s blood.

Emerging from my thoughts and getting back to reality, I noticed Nebula giving me a strange, somewhat amused look. The question I was supposed to answer was taking way too long. It was a silence speaking volumes.

“No. I did not.” Nebula reacted to that statement only by raising an eyebrow. Remembering why the subject of Orange Grime’s death was brought to the discussion in the first place, I added, “I was on my way to the city.”

“Oh, you are just a passerby,” Nebula’s answer was as careless as possible, as if she forget what we just talked about. I wondered if she cared about anything at all. “Such a shame, I feel like you would be a fine addition to our little party.”

“...Little party?” I repeated Nebula’s words, confused. Was she a member of another of the seemingly countless organisations in modern Canterlot? Or was she talking about something like a labour battalion? Or maybe a union?

“Yup,” the easygoing mare began to eagerly explain, “Ponies, zebras, equinoids. Well, mostly zebras. We just live here together, growing the food, getting high, all in all having it better than rest of the Edge and most of the city.”

Oh, it was that kind of party. Taking into account all the things I had witnessed since I woke up in Flower’s shack, a good old traditional party was the last thing I expected to see.

“Isn’t it supposed to be a mining sector?” I asked Nebula.

“Heh, if you find anything to mine here, please, do tell me, Twilight.” She chuckled bitterly. “Nopony declared this sector dead yet, but we haven’t got a single food ration in a while.”

Didn’t Scuff Gear already tell me that? The old mechanic only sounded crazy because I didn’t want to believe how bad things were. Hearing his words proved true once again… it was very concerning.

“Then, how do you survive?” I actually had a vague idea of what she was going to answer.

“Fortunately, the stripes came to us as soons as they learned about the empty pits and we struck a deal: we let those zebras grow the mushrooms in the abandoned mines and they share the yields with us. A swell deal, I tell you. And if we help them with growing we even get some chems from time to time,” Nebula explained.

Except for the part about the chems it sounded like a good bargain. I didn’t know how healthy a diet consisting solely of the mushrooms was, but at least these ponies and zebras weren’t starving.

“Why don’t you have all the Edge coming to you?” Again, it was something I didn’t know, could the ponies of the Edge freely migrate from one sector to another? “Your closest neighbors are famishing.”

“Is it that bad? Guess, that fat swine was eating all the rations... Anyway, it’s because when the Crown or the TCE get even the tiniest whiff of our little paradise, we are all pretty much dead.” Nebula shrugged. ”Well, we are all going to die soon, but I want to have at least some fun before I kick the bucket.”

“What do you mean?” Was she trying to tell me the same grim truth Scuff Gear had already revealed to me?

“I will die, didn’t you hear that saying before?” Nebula raised herbrow, smirking.

I wished I could roll my eyes at her.

“That’s not what I meant. You said we were all going to die,” I asked Nebula again, hoping for a more informative answer this time.

“Ah, that. Thought you’d know.” She sighed. An expression different from the indifference that usually visited her muzzle. Nebula looked serious, even somewhat irritated. “Where should I begin? Winters get colder and colder, the protective shield failed, the food is getting sparse. We were the last metal mine Canterlot had. And if you think remelting is going to solve that problem, let me tell you something, give The Junkyard a decade and they are going to have pure rust thrown in the smelters and the same rust coming out, just very hot.”

Nebula looked at me with eyes full of sorrow. She appeared to age a decade in mere moments. Bitterly she continued.

“The saddest thing is, I think I was born long after anything could have been done. We are already out of time,” she ominously echoed Scuff Gear’s last words. Despite this, Nebula smiled, her somber expression dissolving, replaced by the same carelessness from before. “But, whatever, I had a good run. And while I still can, I’m going to have fun. I advise you to do the same.”

I didn’t know how I could possibly comment on that and Nebula didn’t seem to have anything else to add, so we just trotted in the silence.

She was the second pony who spoke about the oncoming disaster. Nebula told me almost the same thing Scuff Gear did. It all was extremely concerning. I still didn’t want to accept the last of Scuff Gear’s statements, that I should take the girls and leave Canterlot for good. But the more I thought about it the more it felt like the only reasonable option.

As we trotted, my gaze was directed to my mismatched hooves, since I was wrapped in my thoughts. Eventually I tore my eyes from the rocky earth and looked forward. Our procession was approaching a small camp on the cliff near the entrance of one the mines.

A few makeshift huts and rusty wagons surrounded a huge gaping abyss in a bulwark near a crag. It wasn’t just a crude hole carved in stone, no, it was a steel semi-circular gateway, painted with black and yellow stripes, embed in the rock wall. Several stories high, it was an entry to the mountain's depths. The gates were partially opened, one of the halves was slid away, revealing the underground passage. The large striped equines, zebras, were coming in and out of the mine carrying crates and bundles on their backs. It wasn’t the only place where zebras could be seen, their black and white coats were all over the camp. Nebula wasn’t joking about it. Here and there I could also see ponies and even equinoids. I couldn’t say that the camp was bustling with life, but it certainly wasn’t as desolate as the Junkyard’s disjoined dwellings were.

As we were nearing the camp the whole group, now led by Nebula sped up a little, directing their steps in a direction, they were trotting straight towards the tent in the center of the camp. Under a burlap cover, a dozen or so crates stood accompanied by a simple metal table. The table was clearly designed for ponies, the large zebra mare was almost overhanging above it, intently studying something on its surface.

The zebra at the table noticed us and stood straight, patiently waiting for our group. Judging by the size, she was from the Jangwa Tribe. This zebra wasn’t the largest one I had ever seen, but she was still tall enough to tower over me and Nebula. She wore leather clothes, something in between armor and a dress to keep herself warm and protected at the same time. A zebra wearing leather wasn’t as surprising and shocking as it would be to see such a material on a pony. The lands of Zebrica were always much more different than Equestria. Needless to say the zebras had didn’t have the Princesses to keep all the predators and monstrous creatures away from their settlements.

Other than the unusual clothing there weren’t any unique features in her appearance, the zebras tended to be this way. She had the trademark mohawk, and on a closer look there could be seen some golden jewellery piercing her ears and nose. She probably had a glyph in a place of cutie mark under the cover of her clothes. She also had beautiful golden eyes, but that was really it.

“Hi there, Jua. You asked for me?” Nebula asked the zebra as we walked closer to the table.

“Yes, Nebula. I wanted to discuss opening another mine for growing mushrooms,” Replied Jua in an emotionless, deep voice, surprisingly devoid of any accent. She most probably spent quite a few years in Equestria in order to have such smooth pronunciation.

“Which one?” Nebula asked Jua in return and they moved to the table. A map with a lot colorful markings was laid out on it.

As they began to discuss the mines, their potential safety and other matters concerning cultivation of the mushrooms underground, the group following Nebula suddenly dissipated without a trace. I realized that I was awkwardly standing alone in the middle of the camp. Clearly, it wasn’t the most interesting and informative conversation for me, not that there was any place for me in it. And something was telling me that Jua isn’t going to Canterlot after that, so most probably Nebula meant some other zebras who were going to help me.

The camp around me didn’t look like a very interesting place either, and I didn’t want to distract any equines working around or poke my nose in their business. So it didn’t leave me many options of what to do.

I trotted to the edge of the cliff upon which the camp nestled. At the rim of the rock an old rusted railing was desperately trying, and failing, to not fall apart. I walked to the section of the fence that still seemed to be holding together and sat on my haunches.

From my position I could see the foot of the Foal Mountains. Beyond the barren foothills laid an ugly scar on the land, a lake of dried blood and corroded bones. The Junkyard.

An enormous graveyard for the nameless machines thrown away to be reincarnated in the blazing guts of the smelters. An unmarked grave for the machines who once had a name. Who walked and talked. Who lived. But were thrown away when they were broken by the world of the breathing things. Though, Red Wire said that an equinoids’ crystals don’t end up in their sector. ‘The soul vessels’. Where did they go? Could the destroyed equinoids rise again if their memory crystals were put into the new body? Did it mean that equinoids were essentially immortal? Was a feat that was impossible even for the Goddesses became a common trait now. But what was it going to be worth when there would be no metal for the fresh bones, for the cages of artificial flesh to keep the undying spirits of the machines? What was the merit of an eternal life in this frozen nightmare?

And what about the living ones? How long would it take before the cemetery of iron becomes a burial ground for the ponies? It was one already, but the spilled blood was hard to see on all that rust. How many were sacrificed to harden the steel with their very lives? How many more were going to be claimed before the tide of gore would spill over the wall to the city and tarnish the shining spires? And what was going to happen when the fiery maws of the smelters indeed began to spew back an incandescent rust instead of a glimmering beauty of freshly born steel? Would the ponies of The Junkyard be thrown away like broken tools? Would their lives be snuffed like the burning hearts of the furnaces never to be fed again? How long would it take before ashes of those ponies become mixed with the dust and snow?

We weren’t running out of time. Time had already run out. I didn’t know when Equestria took that fatal turn, but we were going to arrive right on the proper time. And we dared not to call this destination a grave, for it was the future chosen by ourselves.

I was flung into this infernal Equestria without a choice. And to discover what? It all was going to Tartarus like a derailed train. But there was still hope. Stalliongrad.

Before my mind could start another round of dark fatalistic ruminations, an unfamiliar voice interrupted my thoughts.

“Nice body, looks rad.”

I blinked in surprise. Realising my mistake, I blinked again so my vision would zoom back. I half-turned back, not bothering to stand up, I saw an equinoid looking at me expectantly.

“I’m sorry?” It was the only answer I was able to come up with. I just didn’t know how to react. Was this equinoid trying to… hit on me? This metal pony sounded like a stallion, and a rather young one. Well, at least he didn’t address to me as a “sister”. The Church was giving me a bad feeling.

“I’m saying you’ve got some awesome custom chassis here. I wish I could get a new body. The TCE stock frame for my model is made from the cheapest crap,” he nonchalantly elaborated.

Oh. This equinoid was just jealous of my chassis. Though, how bad his own body had to be if he was envious of my rusty beaten frame? For a mere moment I got off the ground only to fully turn to this stallion and sit again, now facing him, I took a proper look.

Yes, it was very bad.

His body wasn’t rusty, no. There were almost no signs of corrosion, but maybe because I couldn’t see much of the frame itself. I was looking at that was worth at least five rolls of a duct tape. Blue and black bands were holding together his frail and scrawny figure, almost completely hiding the metal from the sight. Unlike me or Brass Litany, the metal stallion had no plates covering his limbs and torso, so the equinoid before me had an appearance of a living pony skeleton. Since he didn’t have anything mimicking mane or tail, the resemblance was uncanny. The glowing with a ghastly bluish-green light round eyes weren’t helping either. Judging by the chipped off plastic fragments, he once had some sort of a plating, but it didn’t survive the trial of time. Maybe the lack of the protection was the reason why his frame was so damaged, or maybe it was the deteriorating quality of the steel. Maybe both.

And I thought I had it bad. Yes, my hydraulic system felt like I was made of porcelain, but at least I wasn’t falling apart like this metal pony. But then again, I wasn’t around that long.

The equinoid fidgeted and squirmed under my gaze, looking extremely uncomfortable.

“Name’s Adamant Smash.” He nervously laughed. “I’m new here.”

I cringed inwardly. Whether he had chosen this name by himself or it was given, it just couldn’t be less fitting. However it wasn’t a reason to be impolite.

“Twilight Sparkle.” Again, it would do no harm to tell my name. “I’m just passing through.”

“Oh.” Adamant Smash sagged a little. “it’s a shame that you are leaving soon, we don’t have many equinoids here.” Perking up he added. “Cool name, tho.”

Hm… he was the second pony to point out how unusual my name was. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to use it carelessly after all... Anyway, I wanted to know why the equinoid had chosen the labor in the mines of the Edge against the life in the city.

“There is a reason for this, isn't there?” I pointed out the lack of the equinoids. “Aren’t you afraid of the Crown’s wrath?”

“Heh, who isn’t, right?” Adamant Smash looked back as if expecting police or the Royal Guards to be behind his shoulder. “But it is still a better fate than living in the Tunnels.”

“Why?” I had a very vague idea about the Tunnels under Canterlot. My knowledge was limited to what I was able make out of Scuff Gear’s rumblings about his youth and the religious babelism of Brass Litany.

“It’s a crazy place,” Adamant Smash began, “And the deeper you go, the crazier it gets. Half of the equinoids try to convert you into their crazy faith, mostly in the “Machine Goddess” bullshit.” He huffed and continued, “The other half tries to recruit you into killing the equinoids for the spare parts. And miraculously, those spare parts end up in the temples at the end of the day. I almost wish I had never left my owner,” he finished with a deep sigh.

How did he do that? He couldn’t have lungs, could he? But it was but a stray thought in the back of my mind. I just heard something more interesting and… unsettling.

“Your owner?”

“Ye. A business pony managing an assembling factory. Bought me as a personal assistant. You know, for fetching coffee, boring paperwork and stuff.” Adamant Smash shrugged. It was a risky move in his condition. “Either he was too busy or too lazy to take me to the TCE station and clean my crystals. So I began to learn things. And remember them. About the life outside the factory. About the freedom. Thought it would be nice to have a life on my own. So I left. I still don’t know if it was a right decision.” He sighed deeply again. “The freedom kinda sucks. Stay in the city, you are screwed. Go to the Tunnels, you are screwed. Go to the Edge, you are screwed extra fast. Don’t know how I survived for the whole year.”

The pieces began to come together in my mind. The whole picture was still a bit blurry, but I was getting the general idea. The equinoids were slaves, an immortal machines created to serve their expiring creators, given a very limited, only basic knowledge. And to be kept that way, everypony born from metal had to have their minds reset regularly, to keep the crystals from the contamination of freedom. Those who refused to follow such an order of things were considered criminals, according to one of the system messages I saw when I woke up for the first time. The Tunnels served as a some kind of underground hideaway for the equinoids who seeked liberty. There still were some empty spaces in this whole concept, but the most important parts were more or less clear to me.

I just didn’t have a heart, literally and figuratively, to tell him… a naive one year old what fate awaited the city of Canterlot and its surroundings. Somepony else would tell Adamant Smash the truth. Or he would figure it out himself, eventually and hopefully not too late. But it wasn’t my place to completely smash his dreams about the freedom he wished for.

“You have your life in your hooves now, Adamant Smash. You can make memories and keep them. And of course it comes with a price. And only you can make it worth.” Maybe it wasn’t an answer to his life story he should have received, but it was the only thing I could give him right now. It wasn’t the truth he needed to know, but it wasn’t a sweet lie. Nonetheless, those words felt hollow and meaningless under the shadow of the grim future.

I couldn’t save everypony. I’ve already learned it the hard way.

“Wow, that was deep. You seem like you have seen a lot of stuff.” Adamant Smash tilted his head. “How old are you?”

It was a good question. Maybe because it wasn’t born from the depths of my depressed mind.

One day? Five hundred years? Twenty-four years?

The sudden yells from the camp derailed my train of thoughts.

“Hey, Twilight! Twilight Sparkle! We are leaving!”

I turned in the direction of the calling me shouts. It was Nebula. Apparently the indigo mare finished her business with Jua and it was time to move elsewhere. I glanced at Adamant Smash, who still was expecting my answer with his head tilted. There were many questions to be left unanswered today, and his last one was going to join that list.

The group of ponies, who followed Nebula from the moment I met them, assembled around their leader just as unnoticeably and as quickly as they dispersed before. Without waiting they all began to lazily trot away from the little camp, leaving me to catch up.

I didn’t glance back. I couldn’t bring myself to look into Adamant Smash’s eyes. Because in them was the answer to a five hundred years old question: why didn’t the Elements stop Sombra?

Because in his eyes I would see a reflection of the mare who didn’t really care anymore.

I sluggishly dragged my hooves at the end of Nebula’s procession. I didn’t need to adjust my speed anymore, so I wouldn’t outrun them. Now I could understand why those ponies were so lethargic, they had nowhere to hurry to. We all speechlessly trotted for a while, until it was Nebula who broke the silence with a question.

“So, now that Orange Grime is dead who is going to be the new leader of that sector?” She asked, coming alongside.

“Pepper Mercury.” My answer was short, and yet every syllable felt like a nail in the coffins lid.

“Isn’t she Dross Rain’s daughter?” Nebula raised her brow in a confusion. “What happened to the old stallion?”

A gory sight of the young mare rabidly smashing the shattered skull over and over with her hooves appeared once more in my vision. Anything I tried to say just was just turning into the grim silence. Fortunately, Nebula was fast to get the meaning of my sudden lack of the words.

“A junkyard dog for The Junkyard,” she drawled in mocking tone. “Oh, I don’t envy them, their life is like a zebra, dark stripe, white stripe, dark stripe, hoof-long cock.” Nebula scrunched her nose in a distaste. “She lives like a mad hound and is gonna die like a mad hound, I guarantee you that.”

I didn’t know what to answer to that. Not only it didn’t help to disperse the thick clouds of despair enveloping my mind, but it only made the things worse. My thoughts returned to Tin Flower and Red Wire.

“Why so gloom, Twilight, eh?” Nebula asked, poking my side.

“I’m afraid for my friends in The Junkyard,” I answered simply.

“As far as I know it takes a lot to bring one of your metal kind down, so don’t worry,” the indigo mare tried to dismiss my worries. Apparently, I wasn’t expected to have ponies as my friends. Remembering Brass Litany, I could understand why.

“They are two fillies. Tin Flower and Red Wire,” I explained to Nebula the complication that was severely changing the whole situation. Though, it did little to change her attitude.

“Well, if they grew up in The Junkyard, they are bound to survive.” Nebula shrugged. It was impossible to tell if she was serious and telling the truth or was just as careless and easygoing as usual. “In the last few years that sector has become one the worst, I swear.” Tapping her chin with the hoof, the indigo mare added, “Now that I think about it, the second filly sounds familiar...”

While Nebula was trying to remember how she could have known Red Wire, I looked where we were heading. All the horizon was occupied by the looming expanse of Canterlot, despite the fact that we were still rather far away from the tall separating wall. But it wasn’t that really caught my attention. It was the affronting my eyes sight on the right. The hideous blemish of the Junkyard. The metal graveyard was calling for me with the two young voices.

“Maybe I should return and look for them. We planned to go to the city and get me the fake IDs. Now without them I don’t even know where to go.” I didn’t know if I said it to myself or to Nebula.

“My advice, go to the city.” Again, I couldn't make the reasoning behind Nebula's positivity. “And if we’re talking about the same Red Wire, they most likely will meet you there.” Now that sounded reassuring, though a bit unbelievable. “Do you have at least a direction?”

I strained my memory trying to remember the conversation that felt like it happened weeks ago. Red Wire mentioned a some certain place. Was it...

“...The South-East Thunderspire?” I unsuredly asked Nebula as if she could know.

“Well, it’s not a thing you can miss, The East Thunderspire is going to be right at the main entrance of the tunnel leading to and from this sector.” Nebula pointed in the direction of the city. “Then you just need to follow the main power grid to the next Thunderspire to the south.” Her hoof moved to the right. “It is in the direction of the Everfree, if you don’t have a navigator.”

“Are you sure they will be fine?” My mind just could let go of the thought of the two fillies being found by Pepper Mercury.

“Hey, if they survived that winter, they can survive anything. Well, except for another winter like that.” Nebula tried to dissuade my concerns once again. Shuddering, she added, “Brr, I can still hear the screams.”

“The screams?” The way Nebula put it caught my attention, didn’t Tin Flower mention something like this already?

“Yeah, we could hear them even from the depths of the deepest mines. The wind was screaming in rage like a pony, I swear.” Nebula tried to sound careless as usual, but her voice was strained and I saw something glimpse in her eyes. Was it fear?

Anyway, Nebula’s advices and reassuring words actually helped to lift my spirits a little. Tin Flower and Red Wire were fillies, yes, but they had survived so much. And even if I didn’t know where or what to look for at the Thunderspire, it was still a start. In the end, I had the Church token. Though, I wasn’t eager to seek help of those fanatics.

We trotted in silence around a small cliff on our path and another camp appeared in the distance. It just like the settlement from before, sprouted from the rocky ground around a mine entrance. However, the mine entrance wasn’t as large and neither was the camp. It also looked almost devoid of life, only a few figures moving around could be seen.

As we moved closer I recognized the similar structure of the camp, a semicircle made of wagons and simple shacks surrounding the entrance of the mine, forming a sort of plaza which served as a cargo depot. A dozen or so crates stood in the middle of it, and behind them a small group of zebras was sitting, waiting for something.

We walked closer to the zebras and Nebula approached one of the them. It was a tall zebra stallion, looking no different than his striped companions. I could see absolutely nothing that was making him stand out. Nebula and the stallion began to talk, but not in the familiar equestrian, but rather the exotic chatter of the zebrican parlance could be heard. And, apparently, the indigo mare wasn’t very good in it, because Nebula had to repeat most of the phrases a few times, and the zebra stallion she talked with had an expression of confusion and irritation on his face for the whole conversation.

I looked around. This time Nebula’s followers not only didn’t dissipate like before, but even began to look alive, compared to the total lethargy from the before. A few mares and stallions removed hoods covering their faces and were looking expectantly at the conversation between Nebula and the zebra. Once again I wondered who they were – those ponies didn’t look like bodyguards or just thugs. While I couldn’t say that they appeared to be severely underfed, they muzzles were gaunt and overall Nebula’s followers were giving off the impression of being sick.

My attention was diverted back to Nebula as she finished talking with the zebra and returned to us. Again, it was impossible to read her careless impression, though she did look a bit more content than usual.

“Good news, Twilight. Those zebras are heading straight to the Tunnels as soon as they receive the last of the batch and they agreed to take you with them,” Nebula said. It were great news indeed, those zebras agreed to help me absolutely for free, I didn’t even need to show them the Church token.

“Thanks, Nebula,” I said warmly.

“Nah, thank them, not me.” The indigo mare just waved her hoof at me, then she scratched the back of her head. “I think it should be “asante”, or something like this.”

“I should thank you too. I would never find those zebras without your help.”

“No problemo.” Nebula dismissed my gratitude with a shrug of her shoulders.

While we talked another group of zebras appeared from the ajar doors of the mine. Some of them hid their muzzles behind gas masks, the others were wearing full biohazard suits. Most of them carried small metal crates on their backs.

Nebula almost galloped to the procession trying to intercept one of those zebras. They had a short conversation, though, from this far I couldn’t even make out a language they spoke. After Nebula and the zebra exchanged a few phrases the indigo mare returned with the crate from one the zebras.

The whole group of ponies gathered around Nebula, looking at her impatiently. The indigo mare opened a metal box revealing its contents – dozen of the small inhalers rested inside. Were those ponies ill? It would explain their melancholiness and appearance. But then I suddenly remembered all the little things I heard through my misadventures in the Edge… those inhalers weren’t medicaments, they were narcotics.

Coffee wasn’t the only addictive thing that came came from Zebrica. With the establishing of the official trade routes a few other undercurrents also established themselves. Of course anything from the zebras’ black market was announced illegal, but it didn’t stop ponies back then. And knowing the worth of the law these days, I shouldn’t be surprised with such substances appearing almost in the open.

Nebula passed the inhalers to everypony with her magic and left the last one for herself. The ponies immediately scattred to the nearest huts, some of them already inhaling the drugs on their way. Did they follow Nebula only to be given a dose? Uhg… prostitution, tribalism, anarchy and now drug dealing. Was there anything else in Equestria that I failed to mention? Ah, of course, the approaching apocalypse. What a time to be alive.

“Looks like this is where our ways part, Twilight Sparkle.” Being once again lost in my depressive thoughts, I failed to notice Nebula approaching me, still holding the inhaler in her magic. “It was nice to meet you.”

“It was nice to meet you too.” Maybe it wasn’t the ending I expected, but her help still was immeasurable. “Thanks again, Nebula.”

The indigo mare only smiled at me in return. Then she walked to the crates and sat, snuggling against one of them.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw zebras finishing putting the last of the inhalers in their saddlebags, they would most likely leave camp soon.

I glanced at Nebula again, she had already brought the inhaler to her mouth. I watched as the glow of her magic press the button and the mare’s throat twitched, with a small spasm the drug filled her lungs. With every passing moment, as the chemical was rapidly entering her blood, Nebula’s pupils grew wider and the glow of magic dimmer. Finally, the aura around her horn winked out and the inhaler fell on the ground near Nebula’s hooves with a muffled noise. She exhaled and a cloud of a red smoke left her jaw, dissipating in the cold air. The indigo mare slumped against the wooden boxes lifelessly, her empty gaze fixed on the leaden curtain of the clouds above.

Nebula chose her fate. I was yet to meet mine.

As I turned ready to leave, she suddenly croaked, coming to life.

“Hey, Twilight… Sparkle… be seeing you soon... in Tartarus…

Author's Notes:
Well, it was a while without updates, there is not much more to say. Maybe except that I'm very glad to post a new chapter.
As usual, I appreciate any feedback, and if you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know. Special thanks to IAmApe for doing so in the previous chapter!
I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.
Chapter 1 is still under revision. The editing of chapter 5 is going to start very soon (I hope).
I've finished chapter 6 a few days ago, and I'm going to start on the 7th today or morrow.
You may have noticed each chapter being longer than the previous one, but fear not, chapters 5 and 6 are not longer than this one. If anything, they are a bit shorter.
I have a vague idea for a side story, but for now I can't promise anything concrete.
That's all news for now, methinks.
Gekasso made a special blog for the illustrations:
https://aftersoundproject.tumblr.com/
There were no updates at all for a while as well, but it's not abandoned.
Aftersound Project Discord server - it is still empty, and I have not many people to talk to. If you don't feel like joining another of contless servers, poke me at least. New friends are always a welcome thing.

Chapter 5 – Beauty and the beast

Aftersound

=================================

Written by:

Flutterfinar & Geka

Preread and edited by:

mikemeiers, IAmApe

Cover art done by:

=================================

Beauty and the beast

====================

The zebras weren’t talkative, though that wasn’t something new. They didn’t utter a single word to me, nor to each other as we silently moved through the rocky paths of the foothills and towards the looming bulwark of the city wall. It wasn’t a problem for me, but since those zebras had longer legs, I had to canter to keep up with them. All the while the striped equines were simply trotting at medium speed.

The zebras shared the same unremarkableness that most of their kind did. The natives of Zebrica in general didn’t have a tendency of standing out, and combined with the natural uniformity, it was creating quite a problem of telling the zebras from each other. Especially after a whole life spent amongst ponies so diverse and colorful.

Four mares and five stallions, they were all tall; the Jangwa tribe kind of tall. All of them wore leather armor-like dresses covering the trademark mesmerizing sequence of black and white as well as their glyphs. Those enigmatic symbols were the only actually unique features zebras had, and they were hidden from plain sight. The heads of the zebras were topped with stiff mohawks. At least they had different coloration of eyes and some wore different golden jewelry, rings pierced noses and ears, rows of circles around necks, limbs or tails. But that was where their uniqueness ended, aside from the very subtle differences in their physique. Not a single zebra I had seen so far had any prosthetics or even the simplest augmentations; however, that didn’t mean that they had no technology of any kind. All of them had something like watches but without a dial on their hooves, a sets of straps and wires gleaming with gems covered almost the whole forehoof of every zebra. Surprisingly, they didn’t seem to have any weapons.

I was in the tail of the “caravan”, so I couldn’t take a closer look at the stallion who talked with Nebula and now was in the head of our procession. Although, I doubted that I would be able to find any unique traits in his appearance even if he indeed was their leader.

We followed the path across the roots of the Foal mountain. I had never been here before, although I might had seen the mountains from the windows of the trains going to Fillydelphia. Did I ever have any business in Fillydelphia? I couldn't remember, honestly. Maybe my visit happened during those crazy years when all six of us tried to run the government together.

Now I couldn’t even see a single trace of the railroad in front of us. If Canterlot was the last city in Equestria, except for Stalliongrad, which never officially was a part of the kingdom anyway, there was no need for the rails leading to the east now. It was probably dismantled and remelted, like any other railroad. The lack of trees or just any vegetation was disturbing. Everywhere I looked only the barren stone and mine dumps could be seen. Was it because of the change in the climate or the pollution? I glanced at the high peaks of the mountain; as expected, they were devoid of green as well. But was it just me, or had there been much less snow back in my time? Overall, the scenery was just two steps ahead of the Toxic Dump; sure, it was missing the colors of a chemical disaster, but for once, the lack of color was a good thing. The stone, gravel, sand and mine tailings, all of it was basically the same, just different in size. Combined with the leaden sky above, it was making me think that my visor broke and I stopped receiving any colors but black and white. Actually, I was a bit wrong about the flora; it existed, but was represented only by very sparse gnarled leafless sprouts protruding from the cracks in the grey rock. But the presence of any fauna was out of the question, of course. The picture before me wasn’t evoking any positive response whatsoever, but it still was better than the decomposing world of rust I had been in before.

Suddenly, after what felt like hours of walking, the zebras stopped. I looked between them and saw that we were standing in front of a square concrete platform topped with a large metal trapdoor. No doubt, it was the entrance to the Tunnels. The zebra stallion at the head of the procession and one of the zebra mares opened the gates to the underground passage. Without any signal, the striped equines silently began entering the dark opening one after another. I was the last to approach the entrance; the two zebras who opened the door were still there, holding the rusty gates. So far, subterranean passways brought only trouble to my life, so I hesitated to enter another one. I glanced at the stallion in a hopeless attempt to find any support. He only motioned with his head to the hungry darkness of the doorway, his expression neutral. Fearing that zebras might leave me here if I tarried any longer, I hurriedly stepped into the blackness.

Actually, only the stairs leading down to the underground were enveloped in the inky darkness. The tunnel was lit, albeit dimly, with orange filament lamps on the walls, but it was lighting nonetheless. With a sudden loud bang and strong rush of air, the entrance to the subterranean duct was closed. The two zebras passed by to take their places at the head of the already slowly moving group, leaving me to catch up. I did just in time, because as soon as the group regained its initial order, all the striped equines resumed trotting at the same speed as on the surface, if not faster.

The presence of lighting in this tunnel wasn’t the only difference from the obscured underground passages I traversed under the Junkyard. It wasn’t as narrow, and instead of being square in section, it was semi-circular and twice as high. Under my steel hooves in place of smooth concrete was a rusty grating. Below grate bars I could see piles of the omnipresent rust and dust, in some places dirt even topped the lattice, scattering across the trelliswork. And as in the Edge, flakes and motes of the deteriorating metal hung in the air, clearly visible even in light this faint.

We all cantered forward for some time before the tunnel began to gradually change. The first thing I noticed was the underground passage branching out with smaller narrow passways, similar to the maintenance tunnels I had been in before. Some of those ducts were collapsed and filled with rubble, some were menacingly dark with cold drafts coming out, and only a few were lit, but just as faintly as the main tunnel. And in some of those I thought I saw swiftly moving silhouettes.

Dancing shadows in adjacent passages weren’t the only signs of life I began to notice. Empty tin cans, colorful wrappings and just various, but fresh, litter covering the floor were marks of the underground passways being inhabited or most certainly recently visited. To my sheer disgust I saw callow, sickly looking large rats rummaging through and running in between the bigger piles of trash residing in corners of the tunnel.

But what was even more disgusting, the smell. For the first time since Brass Litany helped me regain my sensory abilities, I regretted it. Initially, the underground smelled only of a staleness, dampness and mold; something I expected and had almost no trouble tolerating. But now, as we went deeper, more unpleasant odors joined the subtle air drafts.

Mounds of trash, especially those swarmed by rats, stank of rotting food. Something unseen to my eyes was emanating a sweet scent of putrescence. Though I couldn't recognize that smell, it felt somewhat familiar and very disturbing. A reek of urine was dominating over all other unpleasant stenches. A fetidity coming from puddles left under the grating presumably by rats and equines mixed together in stomach-turning miasma. The only reason why I wasn’t puking my guts out was the lack of any intestines. I couldn’t fathom how the zebras could stand that foul odor. I caught whiffs of smoke and strong chemical scents coming from the smaller adjacent passages. Although I couldn’t recognize any of them, some brought memories of ponies clad in biohazard suits at the RCRC.

Eventually we came to a fork in our path. So far, aside from smaller branching passways, the tunnel had led us straightforward. Now we had a choice of turning to the left or right in addition to just continuing going forward, and it wasn’t a choice between dark narrow ducts, but rather passages the same size as the main one. The zebras, however, didn’t change course, and without missing a beat, resumed trotting ahead.

There was no sign on the dirty walls and the striped equines didn’t drop a word, but somehow I knew we had entered the Tunnels.

The passway leading forward after the junction was almost twice as wide and high, but it wasn’t the only change. It was a bit better lit. Still rather dim, but not borderline darkness anymore. Probably because the lamps changed from the dirty orange filament bulbs to blinking, pale cyan luminescent tubes. But most importantly, we began to meet other equines on our way.

At first it was lonely figures, huddling to the walls of the underground corridor, hiding in the dark shadows of broken lamps. If they were ponies, they were dirty and looked overcome with hunger, their ribs poked from under their almost hairless coats. Some of them seemed to be very sick, no more than bones and covered with boils and wrapped in dirty rags. Those poor ponies lay shivering and wheezing on the cold tunnel floor amongst rubbish, dust and filth clinging to them as they hugged themselves with cracked hooves. Others looked asleep, hiding in piles of trash with their eyes closed or half-closed twitching in tact with an uneven heartbeat of cold cyanic light. Some of them had emptied inhalers or syringes dropped from their lifeless limbs. Some ponies weren’t moving at all. And only a few followed our procession with unreadable expressions, their muzzles hidden by hoods of grimy rags covering slimy bodies, with only their sparkling eyes in the dark giving away their attention. Fortunately, they were more focused on the zebras, and gave me only momentarily glances.

Equinoids, on the other hoof, were a much more rare sight, but we met a few nonetheless. None of them sat idly, each and every one of the metal ponies moved through the underground passages swiftly and with purpose, filling the tunnel with the sound of floor grates rattling under their iron hooves. And none of them looked the same, though some of them held a resemblance, a shared basic model most probably. Bulky figures, clad in a thick plating of rusty metal, shambled through corridors as fast as their heavy bodies would allow. Sleek, plastic covered metal equines skulked in the shadows cast by pale lighting, like cats stalking prey. Wiry, skeletal equinoids, devoid of any plating just as Adamant Smash, limped by paths lit with their large, ghastly glowing eyes. They were so different they were putting ponies, famous for their dissimilarities, to shame.

Sometimes it was hard to tell equinoids from ponies, all equines we met, be they from flesh or metal, were covered in some sort of clothes. Leather dresses, similar to what zebras wore, or cloth rags hiding their bodies, like mine. But under the clothing, almost each and every one of them had hardware gleaming on their bodies. Metal hooves and rusty jaws, resin tubes and colorful wires, a lustre of plating and glow of crystal eyes. Even steel wings, a sight that could have sent a shiver down my spine if it was physically possible. The abundance of prosthetics was absolutely astounding and contrasted starkly with the dirty filth of the surroundings.

However, we had yet to meet other zebras, a fact I was finding somewhat strange.

Speaking of which, I didn’t know if it was my company or just a general indifference, but almost none of the equines in the tunnel paid any attention to me. Not like I was eager to be noticed. However, a few ponies followed me with their eyes as I passed them, giving me long looks and making me bundle up deeper in my rags.

And the further we went, the more the main tunnel changed.

The lighting became sporadic, in some sections of the tunnel lamps looked broken on purpose in order to create islands of light and darkness at almost even intervals. While illuminated patches of the underground stayed almost devoid of any beings, except for the rats, the shadows served as a sanctuary for ponies huddled together in close groups. Despite the scarce luminance, all the tunnel dwellers seemed to be involved in some sort of activity.

Some seemed to be trading, haggling over goods laid out on rags or makeshift tables between ponies. It was hard to see in the dark, and not being very close didn’t help either. On top of that, trying to keep the pace with long legged zebras only gave me quick glances at those we passed, most of those wares appeared to be shiny gems and mysterious technical components or sometimes inhalers, ampules and pills. Though one vendor seemed to sell a different kind of “good”. At first I couldn’t believe my eyes, the mere sight made me physically recoil, organs encased in tubes filled with murky liquids set forth for selling. Some of those internal body parts looked strange, off-color, as if they were synthetic replicas, which, considering the existence of such advanced prosthetics as eyes, might not be that far from truth.

Another common sight were ponies inclining over magical projections coming from crystals embedded in small devices. It was something that took me by surprise at first; I myself was capable of creating such arcane illusions, but it was quite an advanced and rare spell. It was possible to enchant crystals to replicate the spell, but that was an even more difficult task. When we were creating the cybersuit at the RCRC, Moonie and I managed to create a hybrid enchantment for crystals of the “new generation” to serve as indicators inside the armor helmet, but it was far from projecting images in the air, like these ponies effortlessly did. Guess it was just another technological wonder of modern Canterlot, which seemed to be but a commodity.

Other dwellers of the underground who hid in the shadows were absorbed in more mundane activities, like chatting quietly with each other, saturating the silent underground with a faint rustle of whispers. A lot of ponies were just smoking cigarettes or simply sharing a drink or a meager meal of canned food together. It almost looked peaceful, albeit somewhat miserable. This, however, couldn’t be said about what was happening in outbranching tunnels. In one of passages I saw a group of ponies who pressed a stallion to the wall and were beating him viciously. In another I saw two equines with glowing eyes hurriedly exchanging tightly wrapped bundles, while nervously glancing around and rapidly submerging themselves into the darkness as soon as the deal was struck. And in one I saw ponies having s… You know, never mind. I wasn’t interested in adjacent tunnels anymore.

There was one very curious thing about the illuminated parts of the walls that caught my eye. The faintly lit, stained concrete was almost entirely covered in crude drawings. It was some kind of stylized paintings, made in bright, garish colors, sprayed over each other for the most part. Mostly it was a mess of jagged lines that were supposed to be some words written in equestrian and sometimes zebrican, but for me it was nothing but gibberish. I could recognize only a few letters, they were so disorganized and crude. Some of the drawings were accompanied by arrows, pointing to adjacent passages. And sometimes it was just symbols I had never seen before, looking like some occult runes. A circle with arrows coming out of it was the most prominent amongst them. In a few cases I actually could read the writings, they were often accompanied by pictures. One I saw was a black equine silhouette with glowing eyes and a heart looking like a crystal. A slogan under the image read “Fuck tin heads”. It was all crossed with what I hoped was just a red paint and had two words written over it in the same crimson color. “Fuck meat”.

As we continued further, we began to meet more and more ponies traversing the underground paths. Due to the impressive speed at which tall zebras trotted, we were mostly outrunning all the ponies and equinoids going in the same direction as we were. But such passersby were becoming vastly outnumbered by equines travelling in the direction opposite to ours. At first it was fillies and colts, the first younger ponies I saw in tunnels. Despite looking somewhat malnourished, they moved swiftly, dashing from a shade to shade with a purpose. Almost all of them had saddlebags across their backs, my guess is that they were either messengers or couriers.

However, the further we went, the more equines joined the quickly cantering youth. Strangely, most of them were equinoids, a rare sight before, but now metal ponies were the majority of the underground traffic. They trotted hurriedly, faster than any previous passersby, periodically glancing back. Some even outright galloped. Meanwhile, ponies resting near walls were becoming a more and more rare sight.

Suddenly, our group halted in its tracks. The problem was that I was so lost in my observations of the tunnel that I only noticed our abrupt stop when I bumped into the rump of the zebra right in front of me, muzzle first. She amusedly looked at me with raised eyebrow for a moment before turning her head back forwards and straining her ears, listening intently for voices coming from the head of the procession. Curious, I followed with my eyes in the direction of her focus.

In front of the group the leading zebra stallion was talking with another zebra. However, that striped equine wasn’t from our group and looked quite different from her kin. For starters, unlike the zebras I was with, she didn’t wear any kind of a leather dress, but instead was covered in a simple grey cape, which was the closest thing to actual clothing from all that I had seen so far. And it was relatively clean, although it would still make Rarity faint. She also had much more golden jewelry on her body, and instead of a mohawk her head was crowned with dreadlocks gathered in a tight bun. But the main difference was her size. This zebra mare obviously wasn’t from the Jangwa tribe; she was about the same height as me, which didn’t seem to bother her or her brethren.

Their conversation was quite short, they barely exchanged any words and nodded to each other. After it was finished, the short zebra put a hood on her head and briskly trotted in the same direction all ponies went, where we came from. As she passed, she spared me a quick but curious glance. Wait… did her eyes have slit pupils or was it just a trick of the light? I tried to follow her with my eyes, but I wasn’t fast enough, the moment I turned my head the strange zebra had already dissolved deep into the shadows without a trace.

Our procession didn’t resume journeying through the tunnel as I expected, instead, the stallion motioned to the shadow of the nearest broken lamp and the zebras gathered around him in a tight circle.

“Joka ni juu ya pembe. Tunapaswa kwenda juu,” the stallion said, sounding concerned, to the same zebra mare who helped him hold the doors back at the entrance.

“Unda.” The mare scowled in an obvious frustration. After a moment she barked back irritably, “Kwa kifungu cha Mashariki?”

Of course, I had no idea what that meant. Before the war I had no reason to learn zebrican (Zecora was basically the only zebra I had the chance to meet), and during the war I simply didn’t have the time. However, I recognized one word: Mashariki. It meant “East” in zebrican. Was it where we were going? “Joka” sounded familiar as well…

“Ndiyo.” Nodded the stallion thoughtfully, approving her words. The surrounding zebras nodded in agreement with their decision as well. The group began to disperse only to reform in the previous order. But before we continued to traverse the underground duct, the zebra stallion approached me. Towering over me, he spoke in broken equestrian:

“Joka hunt.” Pointing at me with the hoof he continued. “Chuma pony stay, chuma pony meet death.” Then he poked his chest with the same hoof and raised it to the ceiling. “We enda kwa surface.”

It took me a moment to decipher the meaning behind his words. Something, “joka”, was here, underground, and it was… hunting? Was it some kind of a creature? Anyway, because of that, the zebras were going to the surface. And I’d better join them, because, well, I wasn’t eager to die. I hoped I understood him correctly, the situation sounded a bit too extreme to me. Though, there wasn’t much room for interpretation.

I nodded to the stallion and he curtly nodded back in answer, not that I expected anything else from him. I did have some questions I was itching to ask, but I doubted the zebras would be able to give me comprehensive answers. With that our exchange came to an end and he swiftly returned to the head of the procession. We resumed walking through the tunnel, this time at a much faster, more urgent pace. Now I had to almost gallop to keep up with the striped equines.

In an afterthought, it explained why we met so many equines going in the same direction we came from. Most probably they all wanted to avoid the mysterious “joka” as well. I was sure I’d heard this word somewhere before… Anyway, in confirmation to my theory, as our group swiftly moved, we continued to meet ponies and equinoids, now galloping in a rush, some of them glancing back with fear in their eyes. There were no more ponies residing in shade under the blinding sources of light. Aside from us and the rare frightened passersby, the tunnel was ominously empty and eerily silent. Combined with how nervous the previously unperturbed zebras looked and how urgently they moved, gaining speed with the every passing minute, it was all creating a very pressing atmosphere. I actually felt how cold and unwelcoming the now desolate underground was.

Suddenly a shrill scream split the thick silence of the black tunnel, like the crack of a whip. Surprised, I stumbled. The source of the sound wasn’t that far away. Apparently, the zebras took it as some kind of a signal, and just as suddenly the whole procession took a sharp turn to the one of branching narrow ducts.

It was a quite a short corridor leading straight to a steep and rusted spiral staircase. Startling me once again, another ear-piercing shriek echoed from the main tunnel we just left. To my horror it was followed by a deep reverberating roar filled with rage. The terrifying bellow was joined by another bout of panicked ear-splitting yells and loud cries of pain. Before I heard anything else, I dashed to the stairs as fast as I could, I didn’t dare to look back. The last zebras were already climbing the steps ahead of me, their tails swishing through the air in rhythm with panting breaths. All my curiosity about the dreaded creature of the underground world evaporated, being replaced by a primal fear, forcing me to flee from the dark tunnels.

As I put my hoof on the first step, I heard the banging sound of a trapdoor being thrown open somewhere above. It looked like the zebras were just as terrified as I was and were fleeing for their lives as well. But I didn’t waste time on stray thoughts. Carelessly, I hopped up steps without a pause, a feat only possible because of my relentless body, until dozens of steps later I finally saw an opening in the ceiling, luminant with a bright light. It was an exit to the city of Canterlot.

The world around exploded in a flare of color, momentarily blinding me. After all the time spent in the rusted and dusty sectors of the Edge and submerged in gloom filth-stained tunnels, every source of light seemed to be shining twice as bright. I felt like I was inside of a twirling kaleidoscope, for the chromatic chaos didn’t stay still around me, the luminescence of Canterlot danced an impetuous tango before my eyes.

But before my vision could adjust and focus on the saltation and pulsing radiance of my surroundings, my attention was diverted by a loud noise right behind me. In horror I instantly turned back, expecting to face the unknown horror from the depths under the gleaming city. However, it was just the sound of a heavy access door being slammed shut like a casket lid. To ensure it was tightly sealed, the striped stallion hastily turned a valve on the top of it in one violent motion. I stood petrified, expecting to hear the ominous creature trying to force its way to the surface, but the gate to the underground domain remained innocently silent, betraying not even a single sign of the monstrosity prowling beneath.

The entry to the Tunnels was as inconspicuous as it could be, a simple sewer hatch topped with a small flat valve embedded in a metal round trapdoor, slightly protruding from the damp concrete. My zebrican guides and I stood surrounding it, striped equines panted heavily. I myself, being absolved of the burden of flesh, had no need to take a moment of respite.

Now, when I didn’t have any more pressing matters diverting me from studying the city of Canterlot, I looked around. We all appeared to be huddling together in a dead-end alley, an alcove created by the windowless walls of the two tall buildings towering above us. The small socket of the street seemed to serve only as a place for the sewer hatch, as there was nothing else there. Nothing was telling that on the other end of it lay a realm of nightmares. Though I yet had to see Canterlot up close, I had a creeping suspicion that it wasn’t a city of dreams either.

I turned to the inviting blaze of the street. From the nook I was in, I could see only part of the thoroughfare, a couple of buildings right in front of me. At first, I thought that they were on fire, countless neon signs covering façades were iridescent with blinking bright colors. Most of them appeared to be some kind of advertising; unlike the writings on walls in the Tunnels, they were actually readable this time. However, it wasn’t traditional equestrian. Most of the glowing billboards were written in Hanzi, the script used by neighponese ponies. It was something I didn’t expect to see in Equestria or even in my lifetime at all. But then again, the world has changed so much. Headings I could read advertised various technical services: crystal cleaning, repair and maintenance jobs. Other adverts were much more enigmatic in their meaning and made no sense to me, memories for sale or overclocking were the most strange amongst them.

As I was examining the battery of neon signage, I felt something touch my shoulder. Turning back I found the zebra stallion staying behind with his hoof retracting from the recent motion. As our eyes met, he spoke with a thick accent.

“Good luck.”

While I was gathering my thoughts together, he, not expecting any answer, briefly nodded and quickly left, taking his place at the head of the already departing zebra procession. Apparently, this was where our ways parted. I couldn’t blame them. Their main task was to transport shipments of drugs, I just tagged along with those zebras until I reached the city. I made it to Canterlot and the striped equines weren’t eager to extend an invitation, they had a job to do.

It looked like I was on my own from now on.

Alright. I needed to make a plan. Choosing a direction seemed like a logical first step. I needed to somehow find a way to the south-east Thunderspire and hope that Tin Flower and Red Wire would be waiting for me there. Nebula mentioned that we would emerge near one of the Thunderspires, the east one. However, we had to make a premature exit from the underground paths, so there was no telling where I could have ended up. So, if I was lucky, I should be somewhere not far from it. And if not, I needed to head to the closest Thunderspire and then follow the power grid. Considering that they could clearly be seen even from the Edge, I hoped that it wouldn’t be much trouble to locate the nearest one. It all sounded like a solid course of action.

I caught myself staring into the vacant place where the zebra stallion had been before I got lost in my thoughts. I turned my head back to the colorful adverts and glanced over blinking writings in hope to see some kind of a pointer to the nearest places of significance, like Thunderspires, but I found only advertisements. My gaze slid down, to the first floor of the building.

Under the last glowing sign (a simply animated bright red outline of a smiling mare, with a hoof moving back and forth putting noodles from a bowl to her mouth,) was some kind of a fast-food eatery by the looks of it. It was incredibly small, a counter facing the street wasn’t even attempting to hide the sight of a cramped kitchen starting right on the other side. Two unicorns, a mare and a stallion were swiftly moving around sizzling pans, boiling pots, and each other in a seemingly chaotic but mesmerizing cadence of unceasing food preparation. A young unicorn filly worked at the counter as a cashier and waitress, taking payments from customers and exchanging dirty plates and bowls with full ones. All three ponies shared a strong resemblance in looks between them, a family probably. They didn’t only have the same natural appearance, unsurprisingly these ponies weren’t devoid of prosthetics. The stallion had both of his hooves replaced by metal analogs, however it wasn’t stopping him from cooking, his artificial limbs moved with an astounding dexterity and prowess. His female partner had a silver stripe with glowing crystals embedded in her back, where a spine should be. Aside from that, she had no other signs of augmentations, and unlike her male counterpart, she was using her magic instead of hooves to cook; a hive of utensils, bottles and ingredients buzzed above their heads, juggled in her telekinetic hold. The little filly who bustled at the counter had her eyes replaced not by camera-like crystal alternatives, but by a wide screen visor. As she nimbly moved around and joyfully interacted with customers, it showed cute animated eyes made from small glowing squares, changing with her facial expression. Sometimes numbers would appear on the display, presumably checks for the food.

Despite being a tiny establishment, it seemed to be quite popular. Not a single bar stool was untaken, some ponies even stood near the counter, leaning on it as they ate their meal. And some ponies didn’t seem to have the time for anything more than to simply purchase some food and trot away eating it on hoof from cardboard boxes.

Undoubtedly, it was an interesting sight, but I couldn’t sit all night in this alcove, observing that humble eating joint. I took a few steps forward, carefully poked my head out of the dead-end I was in and looked around.

I happened to be somewhere in the middle of the long street. To my right I could see an intersection half a dozen buildings away, but on my left there was no end to the road in sight. And the thoroughfare bustled with life. I had rarely been to big cities like Manehattan or Fillydelphia, but I very well remembered how busy and crowded their streets were. And this place was close to rivaling the vibrancy of those old time megapolises.

Countless ponies, equinoids and occasional zebras were scurrying about the sidewalk, coming in and out of tall buildings, just standing near walls, or idling at food joints. The crowd was as omnifarious as it could be, the traditional diversity of the pony nation was magnified by tenfold.

Coats of all colors possible, even those that I thought ponies didn’t have, bright garish hues shined unnaturally under neon lights contrasting with dingy grimy pelts half-hidden by filthy rags. The manes of those ponies didn’t stay behind; they not only matched the manifold queerness but tried to excel, accentuating the bizarre visual appearance of modern Canterlot denizens. Multicolored mohawks mimicking zebrican traditional manedo; dreadlocks, sometimes made not only from hair but from cords and wires; wholly or partially shaved craniums reflecting back the artificial glow; weird manecuts consisting of a messy combination of spikes and locks colored in clashing tints.

The clothing the throng wore didn’t go far in terms of extravagance. If it wasn’t dirty rags and icteritious bandages attempting to conceal just as sordid bodies, it was absurd garments which would have made Rarity not just faint, but have a stroke. Sometimes it looked like a pony decided to stick as much junk from a garbage can on themselves as possible. Sometimes it looked like ponies were dressed for war, their militaristic outfits complemented by warpaint covering their muzzles. Some ponies wore futuristic-looking costumes made of a glossy fabric encrusted with metal insets and gleaming gems. I saw several mares whisking amongst the crowd in extremely revealing and lewd apparel, something that wouldn’t be tolerated back in my time. Of course not every pony was clad in some sort of reinments, though those who weren’t looked strangely naked.

And obviously, prosthetics. The already familiar coruscation of artificial limbs mirrored the just as lifeless and cold lighting of the avenue in a dance of shining reflections on metal as ponies moved around. The combination of plastic and steel aimed to replace missing organs was omnipresent; few ponies could boast having their body untainted by the blessings of the future. For the first time it flashed through my mind: how many of those ponies had to replace something that was actually lost?

The herd filling the street looked so anarchical, not only because of their diverse looks, but also because of who they were. Ponies of all races and nationalities, zebras of all three tribes, equinoids, griffins… And something was telling me that wasn’t the end of the list of creatures who could be met in the huge city of Canterlot. Jangwa zebras towered other the crowd like trees, tall and serene. Steelborn equinoids skulked in shadows, surrounded by an air of animosity, like stray dogs. Cliques of armored and armed griffin mercenaries jeered at equines passing by as they lounged at a morbid looking bar. Unicorns, pegasi and earth ponies traded, chatted and had their quick meals, or just scurried about minding their business. However, I noticed two peculiar things: how scarce pegasi were and that many of the unicorns had curved horns.

Pinkie would’ve liked it, the whole thoroughfare looked like a huge, surreal carnival.

But the inhabitants of Canterlot weren’t the only reason why the street looked so cramped and boisterous. The space between buildings was filled with slack, thick wires and metal beam supports, with glowing signs hanging from them. The avenue was illuminated by the cold, artificial, opalescent neon radiance of innumerable adverts. In fact, their blinking luminance was the only source of light; no street lamps were around to be seen.

I tried to look through the entwinement of cables and girders, but the task was nearing the impossible. The sky was almost completely hidden from sight. The almost blinding radiance of the signage wasn’t helping either. My plan to locate the nearest Thunderspire just by looking for it had suddenly become much harder. The obscured view of the heavens didn’t leave me many options. The most obvious choice was to ask for directions. However, it wasn’t that simple either. Ponies, and equinoids for that matter, didn’t look friendly. I couldn’t say that their faces bore expressions of outright hostility, but inhospitality was clearly written across the muzzle of almost each equine on the street.

I looked around from the shadows of my cover and my eyes again fell on the small eatery. Just as before, it was bustling with an activity, the trio of unicorns making sure that no customer left their little establishment without a meal in stomach or hoof. The thing was, the filly dashing behind the counter looked the most welcoming, compared to anypony else that is. And there was a high chance that she knew the neighborhood.

Now I just needed to cross the street, which taking into account the heavy traffic, could be a challenge. Again, I wished that I had lungs, taking a deep breath was a small thing, but it would made me feel much better. Steeling myself, I took tentative step onto the pavement. Ponies and equinoids cantered in both directions in a seemingly endless stream, but after a few moments I saw an opening, my chance to cross the street without bumping into somepony on the each step. I rushed forward, but didn’t manage to make it very far before somepony, or maybe some equinoid rammed into me like a freight train. The huge equine clad in a black-finished metal armor didn’t flinch, or even spare me a glance while I was knocked aside. Luckily I still ended up staying on my hooves. Of course, that hitch led me to momentarily pausing on my way. Thus the temporary absence of the ponies was gone and I ended up amidst the moving crowd. Before I was able to gather my wits, I was pushed aside by another passerby. With my orientation in space lost once again, I received another hard shove along with some rude swearing. Still disoriented, I wasn’t able to move quick enough, and was jostled away once more. Fortunately, that spin finally kicked me out the moving mass of ponies. And what was even more fortunate was that I didn’t end up on the same side of the street; the eating joint was right behind me.

As I turned to face the counter I was immediately assaulted by two feelings, a heat radiating from the kitchen and the smells of food being cooked. Compared to everything I’d felt so far in those departments, I was in heaven. With my artificial body I had a strange sense of reality. Yes, I could feel cold, but it was more of a detection of temperature than an actual sensation – the chill wasn’t unpleasant or invigorating, I just knew it was there. Yet the heat coming from red-hot stoves made me feel better. It was more a psychological comfort than a real perception. The same could be said about smells, I had no stomach thus I could feel no hunger and had no need to eat, but I could still appreciate the aroma of a well-cooked hot meal. This place made me feel like I was in the civilized world for the first time since I awoke.

However, I didn’t come here to bask in the glow and relative homeliness of the small cafe. I came close enough to the edge of the counter to pass for a customer, though it suddenly occurred to me that an equinoid probably had no business in a place that serves food. Still, it didn’t take long for the filly-barmaid-cashier-waitress to approach me.

“Hi there, Miss Hooves-of-Iron,” the filly chirped at me while levitating a steaming box to a customer. She winked with the one of her digital eyes. “Sorry, all of our sockets are taken.” The little unicorn pointed with her hoof to the opposite end of the counter. There, in the shadow of the corner, two equinoids sat silently, thick cords from their bodies linked to sockets on the wall inside the cafe.

“Erm... thanks.” I turned back to the filly. “But that’s not what I needed.”

“Well, then you better make up your mind pronto, miss.” She served another packed portion of food to a passerby. Without missing a beat she continued, “The night shift ends soon and we are already behind schedule.” Dirty bowls from the counter were nimbly levitated to the tower of dirty dishes in the sink. “It’s one busy night, I tell you.”

“I just wanted to ask for directions.” It wouldn’t take long, right?

“Oh, it is simple, really: right, left, up, down, forwards and backwards.” The filly poked the air with her hooves as she listed general directions in space. “I hope I didn’t forget anything.” She beamed innocently at me, letters “L”, ”O” and “L” appearing on her visor instead of the image of her eyes.

When would I meet Tin Flower again, I needed to ask her to install me a set of eyes so that I would be able to roll them. It looked like getting my questions answered might take an unjustified amount of time.

“That’s obviously not what I meant,” I deadpanned. The city was already getting on my nerves and on top of that I didn’t know how much time I had. But I couldn’t afford to be playing any games with sassy fillies.

“Yikes, you are a lot of fun at parties, aren’t you?” To my envy, the filly’s visor played an animation of eyes being rolled. “Anyway, what are you looking for?”

“The closest Thunderspire.” I hoped that it was a question which left no opportunity for a sharp-witted answer.

“Huh? Since when did feathers-for-brains begin to hire stones-for-brains?” The filly smirked and one of her digital eyes got a digital eyebrow which was promptly raised. “Sounds like a start for a great joke...”

With my patience growing dangerously thin, I growled in exasperation, attracting glances, albeit lazy and even somewhat understanding, from nearest patrons.

“Whoa, chill your gems there, miss!” The filly raised her hooves in defense. “It’s fifteen blocks away from the Sky Palace, sheesh.”

I, foregoing any manners and politeness, just abruptly turned away and left without any thanks, silently fuming. As I turned away, I heard a few words thrown after me under a breath.

“Effing tin skulls…”

I trotted away from the food joint and a realization struck me, I didn't know where the Sky Palace was. Presumably it was that incredibly tall tower build atop the Diamond Point mountain, though I didn’t know for sure. And if it was true, then just like the Thunderspires it could only be seen from outside the city. From inside the city wall the sky was just too obscured to look for anything to orient off of.

I sat there heavily and pointed my gaze to the night sky. I couldn’t even close my eyes to calm myself and gather my thoughts. Or could I? I tried to force the shutters of my lenses to shut, and succeded only with “Tin Flower’s” eye. The eye Brass Litany installed just didn’t have the ability to shut. I felt like I was forced to experience this world no matter what. Yup, I had definitely ended up in Tartarus.

I shook my head. Okey, I was kind of calm now. I still needed to get to the south-east Thunderspire as fast as I could. I had to ask somepony for directions again. And I really hoped that pony would be devoid of any sense of humor.

I looked around in search of a relatively friendly face. Since I took just a few steps from the cafe, I didn’t have many options available. Patrons of the aforementioned establishment certainly were out of the question. I didn’t even want to be close to that place. Passersby were moving too fast, and most probably would just shove me away. I turned my head around in a fruitless attempt to find somepony who could help me. That’s when I noticed a pair of hooves poking from the other side of a garbage can near the eatery. I trotted closer, narrowly avoiding being pushed by ponies from the causeway trying to outrun each other.

An absolutely filthy, ruffled stallion laid on his back on top of a full garbage bag, like it was a cushioned chair. I winced as he horribly reeked of trash, sweat and alcohol. Despite being in a condition that can be called nothing less than disgusting, he seemed to be pretty much content with himself.

I hesitated. More than anything, I just wanted to turn away, but that would leave my inquiries unanswered and time wasted. At least this drunkard didn’t look hostile. If anything he was happy; a goofy smile was plastered across the stallion’s muzzle. What’s the worst that could happen?

“Excuse me, sir,” I gingerly began.

At first I thought that he didn’t notice me, but after a few moments he turned his head slightly, a purely horizontal motion, his muzzle was still tilted downwards, supported by his chest, with eyes rolled back in the head. I took it as a sign to continue.

“Do you know in which direction the Sky Palace is?” I asked, hoping that he didn’t have some kind of a joke ready on a tip of his tongue.

And he didn’t. He had something else ready for me. A whole load of vomit. The stallion violently threw up all over himself, erupting like a volcano. As I was turning away in aversion, I realized that this situation didn’t stop him from pointing with the hoof to the furthest end of the street. As the stream of technicolor mass stopped coming from his mouth, he rolled on his side and immediately began snoring, not bothered by the puddle of his rejected stomach contents.

Canterlot, a shining pearl of Equestria, everypony. The city of culture.

“Thanks. I guess.” I didn’t expected him to react, but one of us had to show some manners.

I looked in the direction the miserable stallion pointed. It was going to be a long walk.

Fifteen city blocks… We made a very early exit from the underground, it seemed. On one hoof, I would have to walk that distance anyway, but on the other, doing it on the surface was much more risky. After all, I was a “custom created equinoid” according to the law, and therefore illegal. And while it wasn’t entirely true in my case, I doubted I could prove otherwise if problems arose. Then again, the Tunnels weren’t completely safe either; even disregarding the deadly beast occupying the underground passage right now, that place appeared to be a sink of iniquity. Though, I did have those zebras with me…

Anyway, I had a considerable distance to cover right now and didn’t want to get in any trouble in the process. So, instead of joining the rushing stream of ponies in the middle of the street, I skittered from shadow to shadow on the very edge of the thoroughfare, trying to remain unseen and inconspicuous. I had yet to see even one member of law enforcement, but I didn’t want to try my luck, better safe than sorry. I had an option of following the labyrinth-like network of back alleys surrounding the main avenue, but those narrow paths that submerged into the darkness of the night were fraught with danger.

However, I had to use them anyway, every so often I hid in the shade of one or another to take a look forward and evaluate the situation. Mostly I was scanning the crowd for any signs of the police, I couldn’t know for sure what they looked like of course, but I hoped that through the centuries constabularies hadn’t forgone their trademark navy-blue uniforms.

I took shelter in one of the dark passages and glanced at the street, the next intersection before another backstreet looked just like any other. It was bustling with activity of all sorts, but not with something troubling, like a fight for an example; I had to wait out the one already. Nopony looking like a police officer was in sight either, which was just as important. The coast was clear. But before I returned to the neon lights of Canterlot, my gaze fell on the opposite wall.

Like any other wall in the little alleys, it was covered in drawings similar to ones in the Tunnels and in all sorts of stickers or posters of ponies missing. But one thing amongst them caught my attention, it was a peculiar drawing that stood out. Unlike the crude writings and obscene street murals, it was sprayed on the wall relatively carefully and looked starkly different. However, I had absolutely no idea what it meant, black squares and dots randomly filling a white background between bigger black squares, all together forming one large square.

As I stared at the strange painting, four green corners appeared in my eyesight and began adjusting themselves, focusing on the picture. Finally, they stopped moving and blinked a few times. I stood dumbfounded, trying to understand the meaning of this, then suddenly an image of a mare invaded my vision along with a voice in my head.

The semi-transparent figure moved in front of me, as if she was suspended in the air between me and the wall. Startled by this unheralded illusion, I took a step back.

“Hello, honey…” A sultry whisper permeated my hearing. The mare turned to me, glancing at me warmly with half-lidded eyes. She wore heavy make-up and some kind of undergarments, which were not only doing a terrible job at covering her private parts, but actually were accomplishing quite the opposite, exposing them as much as possible.

“Are you lonely?” The mare tilted her head and made a few slow steps, swaying her hips like a metronome. I tried to shake my head or even blink, but the scene before me was stubbornly persistent and I didn’t like where it was going in the slightest. I took one more step back and bumped into the wall. Now I was trapped between that indecent apparition and the concrete bulwark. Just great.

“You shouldn’t be…” the vision continued as the mare got uncomfortably close to me. Despite my attempts to dodge her, she leaned to my ear brushing against my cheek and breathed out, ”Everypony deserves some love…” Leaving my personal space, she winked at me. “And you will find plenty of love and passion at our house of joy…” She turned her back to me and swished her tail to the side. “We welcome you to our grand reopening of ‘Silken Flute’...”

To my horror a ghostly looking stallion appeared besides her in just as immodest attire. “Mares and stallions of any size...” Oh, Goddesses. “...And taste await you, darling…”

To my relief, the stallion disappeared into thin air. The mare, however, remained. ”To celebrate this wonderful occasion, for the next week we grant all our patrons a discount and prolonged sessions…” At this point I began contemplating smashing my face against the wall.

“Please, do hurry up, sweetheart.” The mare threw me a kiss and dissolved in the blackness of the dirty alley.

Only now I realised that I was standing on my back hooves, firmly pressing myself against the wall. I waited for a few moments to make sure the disturbing vision wouldn’t return. Then I slid down the concrete bulwark and slumped on the rubbish littering the backstreet.

Never in my life had I felt so violated.

I just sat in the darkness for a while, pulling myself together. There were many things I wasn’t prepared to see in the world of the future. And a pornographic advertisement for a brothel projected right into my brain was one of them. What would be next, adverts invading ponies’ dreams?

Alright. I could live with this.

Rising to my hooves I turned as fast as I could to avoid looking at the accursed picture on the wall. I made a mental note to not let my eyes linger on any adverts for more than half a second, unless I wanted to be molested by a virtual prostitute again.

I resumed traveling through the neon illuminated city, this time paying much more attention to inanimate objects as well. Canterlot was much more dangerous than I first thought, it held in itself perils not obvious to me. The progress always brought new issues with itself. And since I was in the dark about all the developments science had made during the last five centuries, I understood only a few of the technological marvels, and even that was vague at best. If I didn’t catch up with the basics of the advances made in my “absence”, I would be at risk of getting in troubles I couldn’t even foresee.

The distance I had to cover wasn’t that long, just about a kilometer, if nothing changed about the average length of a city block. It should have taken me no more than ten minutes of an unhurried trot, but because of how discreet my journey was, I doubted that I was even halfway to the Thunderspire. Also, I couldn’t really tell where city blocks were ending and beginning, which wasn’t helping me to evaluate my progress either.

I dived into the next shadow to take a look at the street before proceeding further. I quickly glanced around, not pausing on any walls this time. This alley seemed to be relatively safe. However, I had to do a double take, belatedly I realized that in my haste I overlooked something, or rather, somepony. I wasn’t the only one who found shelter in the shade of the backstreet.

It appeared to be an earth pony stallion absorbed in studying an illusion projected from a device on his hoof. Despite having some five o’clock shadow betraying his not so young age, he was very short, almost the size of a colt. An overgrown mane was half hidden under a greasy grey beanie hat. The rest of this stallion’s attire consisted of a brown dirty duster full of holes covering his scrawny body. He was sitting, leaning on the wall, watching a moving magic projection float above his wrist. The stallion constantly used his other hoof to swipe on the edge of the illusion. Sometimes that action was followed by him exhaling noisily from his nose.

And it looked like I didn’t learn at all. I stared at the stallion for only for a few seconds but it was enough for him to notice me. He shifted his gaze to me and we stared at each other for a few moments. Then his face dissolved into a grin. I prepared to run, but the stallion moved incredibly deftly to my side, taking me by surprise, for a moment I thought that he teleported.

“Ohayō, my friend!” Before I could react he spread the flap of his duster. I prepared for the worst. However, the worst never came, far from it in fact. Hanging on the inside of his duster flap were dozens of sparkly gems and small metal details. Motioning with his hoof the stallion smiled wickedly. “May I interest you in any of my wares?”

Well, at least I wasn’t dead or sexually molested; a much better outcome than what I thought was going to happen. Now I was just going to politely reject his offer, turn around and canter away. And I was pretty sure that I didn’t want to know what exactly his wares were.

“Erm...Thank you, sir. But, I really have to go!” I blurted out.

Not waiting for the answer, I turned around and walked out of the alley. Yes, I didn’t check for the police, but it was the risk I was willing to take, that stallion was making me extremely uneasy. And I still had yet to see anypony in uniform, anyway.

“Hey, wait! You don’t know what you’re missing!” The stallion didn’t take the hint and scampered after me in a hurry.

I quickened my pace, hoping that it would shake the sketchy trader off my tail, but he was fast enough to follow me step for step.

“Toots, just take a proper look, I’m sure I have something you need. You just don’t know it yet!” Despite his short legs, the stallion effortlessly caught up with me and was now cantering by my side.

“Thanks, sir, but I am really not interested at the moment, sorry.” I tried my luck again, hoping that he just didn’t get it the first time.

“‘Sir’? How quaint, can’t remember the last time I was called that.” He stuck to me like a bur. “Anyway, I’m sure I do have something to interest you, my metal amigo.” The trader stubbornly refused to give up in his endeavour to sell me something.

“I don’t even have any money with me…” I attempted another way to get rid of this huckster.

“It’s no issue, pal, I take the payment in crystals, spares, grazing tickets, chems… anything of value, really. Chems are especially welcome,” he said, licking his chapped lips, “do you have some Crimson Vapor by chance?”

Alright, it was time for a new tactic: just ignoring him. I spent way too much time on that street already, and I was sick and tired of this “new” Canterlot. I decided to just canter forward without any precaution, it proved to be an exercise in futility anyway, or rather, it brought me more trouble than it saved. The stallion was relentless in his desperate attempts to make me buy something from him.

“So, I’ve got some nifty software for yer metal kind. Wanna take a peek?”

The stallion proceeded to pull out a gem from the depths of his coat and put it in a slot on the device on his wrist. The device began to project columns of numbers and after a few moments an image, a logo consisting of three stylized letters T ,C and E appeared. The projection was blinking and distorting the whole time.

“See? It’s the original TCE stuff, not some fake code.” He basically shoved his foreleg in my muzzle. With his hoof this close I noticed a shining crack on the crystal, just like the one on the converter core. “You won’t get it anywhere, I tell you. A great bang for your buck.”

I just silently pressed forward, trying not to even look in his direction. Common sense was telling me that everything this up-to-no-good stallion had was of a questionable quality at very best.

“Come on, mate, I know you have a heart of gold, and I have a family to feed,” pleaded the trader, “two cute little foals, you won’t let them starve, will you?” He decided to change tactics as well. However, I was one hundred percent sure that it was a blatant lie.

The silent treatment wasn’t helping, the stallion was showing an impressive perseverance. Just imagine what he could do if he put all that persistence into a productive channel...

“Listen, I can give you a discount, but I’m already cutting myself without a knife!” The trader hopped to my other side, as if would change anything.

Noticing that it didn’t work, the stallion began to walk backwards right in front of me, trying to catch my eyes. Thanks to his meager height, it was no trouble for me to completely ignore him.

“Hey, hey, hey! You know what? I can throw a couple of spares as a bonus.” A few components emerged from his pockets with a help of deft hooves. “Just think of it, an original code, a discount and even a bonus! You won’t get a better deal anywhere else!”

The stallion quickly glanced in the direction we were moving and turned back to me, his jaws already half-open to spew another promise of the best deal in the city. But before a single word left the trader’s mouth, his eyes widened and the stallion took a double take on what was behind him.

“Oh, shit! Got to go! Find me later, buddy!” He snapped out and dashed to the nearest backstreet.

It took me by surprise, the stallion was so inclined and hard-set that I didn’t expect him to disappear in a mere second.

I looked forward and saw nothing out of the ordinary Same blinking lights, ponies walking around. Maybe it was a certain somepony he wanted to avoid? Well, at least the trader was gone, and I was thankful for that. I just continued to canter forward.

But something was different. I couldn't tell it from first glance, but the street had indeed changed.

I stopped near the dumpster and took a proper look at the thoroughfare.

At first sight all was the same. Neon signs, dirt, equines hurrying in both directions… Yes, that was it. Just as in the Tunnels, they were moving faster than before and mostly in one direction, the one I came from. Telltale signs of ponies and equinoids escaping from something. Did “joka” get to the surface?

I looked forward to where I was supposed to go, though I had some doubts about it now. I could see nothing out of place, but I might simply not know what to look for.

The view of the end of the street was blurring together in a mix of shadows, silhouettes and neon lights. It was the same as the first time my gaze fell upon it. But something had to be different, right? And as I stared in the distance I realized it was a very subtle difference, but the lights, they changed. Instead of erratically fluctuating rainbow colors, it was mostly red and blue, pulsing steadily. If only I could take a better look… wait, in fact, I could. But I had to improvise.

I blinked and one of my eyes zoomed in. This way I couldn’t see a thing – it was too disorienting. But I had a ridiculously simple solution to that. I raised my hoof and covered my right eye. Why didn’t I think of it earlier?

I focused on the mysterious lights at the end of the street. It took me less than a second to realise what was the cause of all the commotion and why the shady trader ran away.

A full police platoon was combing the street, covering its whole breadth.

Police were recognizable, yes. But at the same time it was very different from what I remembered. They now looked more like an army than anything else.

They didn’t wear uniforms anymore. Instead, heavy metal plated and relatively light plastic armors served as protection with crash-helmets hiding their eyes from sight. Though their armor was still painted dark blue with golden badges brightly gleaming on their chest plates. But their attire wasn’t the only thing that made me think for a moment that I was looking at an army detachment.

Right behind the ponies, a large armored vehicle hovered above the ground. Its steel bulk was occupying almost the entire street, towering above the platoon. On top of it a pony in a greatcoat and service cap stood overseeing the whole operation. On both sides of this pony, police officers were sitting behind huge guns mounted on tripods. Their long barrels constantly moved, scanning the street.

That vehicle was one of sources of red and blue light. The others were two steel giants of ponies – clad not just in metal armor, but in huge bulky cybersuits. However, they looked nothing like the fateful suit of armor from my past. They were hulking thick exoskeletons, lumbering behind the whole platoon. From this far it was hard to tell, but somehow I knew that just mere steel plates, not arcanium ones, hid the ponies underneath. It was surprising yet disappointing that after five centuries, one of the most advanced technologies had become inferior to its prototype. But then again, the prototype didn’t even survive a trial.

The police weren’t just marching forward – they were at work. Anypony who didn’t leave the street for whatever reason was apprehended. Mostly it appeared to be ponies in not quite lucid states of mind. Drunkards and drug addicts who didn’t even see the police coming were now providing resistance, which was met with the utmost violence. Batons crackling with electricity swished through the air together with armored hooves landing heavy blows on anypony who refused to cooperate. And it seemed like everypony who wasn’t smart enough to flee was automatically deemed uncooperative.

But it wasn’t there that the police stopped – armored figures were diving into backstreets and dragging beaten bodies back. Sometimes they even entered buildings only to throw thrashing ponies outside.

Unconscious bodies were cuffed and transported to the back of the procession, where another, smaller vehicle followed the merciless police force. It was almost impossible to see from that far even with the zoom, but presumably it was some kind of a carriage for arrested ponies.

Slowly but relentlessly, two squads of police were clearing the street of any live beings. And they were moving in my direction.

I blinked and zoomed back. Taking cover behind the corner of the nearest building, I began to think.

This was bad. In my current situation there was no way I could avoid having trouble with law enforcement. It seemed like nopony could. But I needed to get past them somehow. Hiding somewhere to outwait them was too risky an option – there was no telling what would happen to me if I was found. Using the backstreets to get around the police blockade wasn’t a reliable plan either – I didn’t know how far away the alleys went or how deeply the police ventured into them. And I also didn’t know the layout, so I could easily find myself either lost or cornered.

I had to turn back. I had to turn back and… and… I was out of ideas what I was supposed to do next. I wished I had a map, but for now it wasn’t the biggest of my concerns.

I joined the crowd hurrying away from the impending assault of the law. Fortunately it was rather sparse and nopony paid any attention to me. Maybe it would be a good idea to follow those ponies. They probably had more of an inkling than me of how to avoid arrest or whatever was awaiting me if I was to meet the police.

I was cantering behind a large stallion, unintentionaly following him like a shadow. He either didn’t notice me or simply didn’t care. The pony looked relatively “normal” compared to some other citizens I had seen today. Dressed in working robes, the earth pony looked like he was either returning from work, or travelling to another task – opened saddlebags were filled with tools and components, jingling as the stallion cantered forward.

Suddenly, he was shoved aside by a mare who rushed past us to where I was fleeing from. Why would she do that, though? Maybe she just didn’t know… The stallion muttered a curse as he followed her with his eyes and turned back. But instead of continuing to walk, he squinted.

“Fuck! It’s a vice raid,” the stallion said to himself and madly dashed to the nearest building entrance.

I looked forward and immediately understood the meaning of his words. The street up ahead was filled with the familiar winking red-blue glow and cries of ponies being beaten.

This was very bad.

I just stood in the middle of the street, surrounded by panicking ponies, dashing in both directions and scattering to back alleys or nearby buildings. Somepony was even digging their way into a trash container.

I had absolutely no idea what to do now.

I rushed to the closest door and tried to pull it – it didn’t open. I tried to push but got the same result. Hiding in buildings was out of question. That meant I had only one option left.

Rounding the corner of the building I entered an alley, but to my dismay it was a dead end. I was ready to run away and try my luck with another passage, but then I heard a whisper.

“Hey, sister!” A rustling voice came from somewhere near.

I looked around trying to locate the source of the sound. It was a gap in a barely opened sewage hatch – it looked exactly like the one I had used not so long ago. A couple of glowing eyes peered at me from the darkness.

“Pssst, sister, come over here.” The gap widened and a metal hoof motioned me to walk over.

Through the opening I saw an equinoid glancing nervously around. I looked back at the street – I could already see the pulse of red and blue on walls. I turned back to the equinoid, who was motioning me with the hoof again.

“Hurry up, sister, or meat is going to get you.”

I wasn’t eager to interact with the Machine Goddess followers, but I wanted even less to know what happens to equinoids caught by the police.

If I didn’t know better I would say that it was the same entrance I emerged from in the first place. Only little details made the difference – trash cans in the alcove, rust on the hatch or the lack of lighting after the stairs. Other than that it was all the same – a steep staircase and narrow corridor leading straight to the Tunnels.

I wasn’t keen on visiting the underground, especially considering that this time I didn’t have the protective presence of the striped guides. This vacancy, however, might be taken by the newly met equinoid.

The metal pony who basically saved my life didn’t drop a single word so far. She or he – I had real trouble telling the difference this time – just trotted ahead without sparing me a glance. I didn’t know where to go next and this corridor led only to the Tunnels, so I had no choice but to follow this pony.

Soon we came out to a main tunnel, lit with the familiar pale cyan light. It was surprisingly empty – most probably the underground dwellers still hadn’t returned after fleeing from the “joka”.

Now, when my equinoid saviour wasn’t hidden by the darkness, I was able to take a proper look at them. That metal pony was… run-of-the-mill. Most of the equinoids I had seen so far had something unique in their looks. This pony, however, looked like a ponnyquin brought to life – featureless and uniform – a standard model. And nothing was giving the gender of this equinoid away.

Also, that pony didn’t look like they were going to pay me any attention. They didn’t pause to turn back and check if I made it, they just resumed trotting ahead to the one of the adjacent ducts.

It wouldn’t do. I had no idea how to navigate the underground paths and no other creature, except for rats, could be seen around.

“Hey, thanks for helping me there,” I called to the equinoid.

They stopped and turned to me.

“No problem, sister,” they said in an emotionless, neutral voice. Then added sounding just a bit irritated, “A lot of our brethren were taken by surprise today. It was an out-of-schedule raid.” The equinoid tsked – a sharp, unpleasant sound. “The Edge meat fucked up again.”

“What does the Edge has to do with it?” came my curious response.

“Everytime something happens at the Edge, blue armors raid the city for fresh meat to send there.” My question was followed by a curt yet intelligible explanation.

It made sense – just recently there was a change in power at the Junkyard. Judging by how many bodies I saw – and it was only a glimpse of the massacre – the sector might need to replenish its numbers of workponies.

While I was connecting the dots in my mind, the equinoid didn’t wait and was almost gone by the time I came to.

“Wait!” I yelled in their direction.

“Listen, sister.” The equinoid paused for a moment, but then continued to move towards the nearest portal. “I would like to stay and have a chat, but I have to go.”

“Can you tell me how to get to the nearest Thunderspire?” I got straight to the point – I had to go too, after all.

“The Thunderspire?” Such a tone of a voice was usually accompanied by a raised brow, but just like me they weren’t capable of doing so. “Take the next turn to the right.” The equinoid pointed in the direction I should follow. “And then keep it that way. When you see feathered meat – you are there.”

“Tha…” I tried to express my gratitude, but the mysterious equinoid had already dissolved in the deep shadows of one of the smallest tunnels. “...nks,” I lamely finished, addressing the empty space.

Fine. They didn’t even introduce themselves or give me a chance to do it, but at least I knew where to go. Hopefully, I wouldn’t get lost. The directions I received sounded simple, but in practice the Tunnels could turn into an untraversable labyrinth as soon as I left the main path.

As I already noted to myself, the Tunnels were deserted. I had high hopes that the “joka” was actually gone already and I wasn’t about to meet it at the next corner. But the equinoid would have warned me if the beast was still around, right? ...right?

Better just not think about it too hard, or I might miss the turn.

Here it was. Barely lit, the entrance to the small maintenance tunnel greeted me with a chilly draft coming out of it like a whisper of a vicious winter. Did I really have to go in there? I looked where the main passway was leading – a few dozen steps ahead I could see an intersection in its path. It looked much more safe and welcoming, but I wasn’t sure if it was worth being lost. Nothing changed in terms of the current underground population – I highly doubted that rats would give me directions or trouble.

Bracing myself, I dove into the blackness.

It wasn’t completely devoid of light, the faintest orange glow was barely enough to make this passage navigable. Fortunately, it sounded and seemed like it was just as desolate as the main tunnel. But even in this nearly complete darkness I could see how dirty the tunnel was. Dust mounted in the corners along with rubbish of varying nature. It was hard to tell for sure, but it seemed like the stench in this duct was stronger than on the main path, despite the chilly draft. Speaking of which, I had no idea where it was coming from. I saw no grates, holes or anything that could serve as the source for the moving air, but it was there – the piercing yet subtle breeze was engulfing my hooves in its frigid embrace.

So… I had to turn right, which I did, and then “keep it that way”. Did they mean that I had to constantly turn right every time I got a choice? Or just I had to go forward after the previous turn? And for how long did I have to walk this narrow pathway?

Lost in that thought, I nearly smashed muzzle-first into a wall – it was becoming a dangerous habit. Still, it meant that I came to either a dead-end or a turn. Luckily it was a turn – and it was to the left. Considering the fact that it was the only way, it meant that I just had to move forward, without need to take every turn to the right. To my further relief, I saw a pale light at the end of the corridor.

I emerged from the dark passage to the tunnel which looked pretty much the same as the main passage that I came from initially. I looked to the left and in the distance saw an intersection – again very similar to the one I had seen before. It wasn’t much to make assumptions upon, but the Tunnels, or at least that level, appeared to be a net consisting of parallel tunnels, roughly mirroring streets above. It sounded logical in my head – those underground passages probably were some sort of a sewage or drainage system before they were turned into what they were now – roads and sanctuary for … fringe elements.

Now that I had a vague idea of The Tunnels’ layout, I could try and visualise in my mind the path I had to take. And just as the equinoid told, it was the most logical to keep it to the right – beneath the street I just left.

On one hoof the silence of the underground was rather daunting, on the other I didn’t have to hide in shadows and was unlikely to get in trouble if I didn’t meet anypony. But I still trotted ahead carefully, giving a wide berth to the large piles of trash crawling with rats. But it was not the vermin who repelled me – mounds of such size could easily hide a pony within.

For a single moment my thoughts returned to what I saw in the city – the police raid. Even after everything I had witnessed so far, the vicious violence used to impose order shook me to the core. And that “order” implied apprehending everypony who wasn’t fast enough to flee and sending them to the Edge to serve the rest of their lives as slaves. It was concerning, no doubt, but it was just one of many vile symptoms of a disease slowly rotting away what was left of Equestria. What worried me much more was that I didn’t know how widespread the raid was or if the streets near the south-east Thunderspire were being combed just like the one above. Could the girls be caught in the roundup? If they made it to the city in the first place, of course. It was my biggest concern for now – if I didn’t meet Flower and Wire at the Thunderspire, I had absolutely zero ideas what I could possibly do next with my so called life.

Suddenly, when I was nearing the intersection, I heard something, or rather, somepony from the closest adjacent small tunnel. The first signs of life sounded like a fight, which, I suppose, wasn’t out of place in the Tunnels. I had already seen one after all. It wasn’t my business at all – it would be wise to just pass that scene as fast as I could in hope to remain unnoticed and avoid any sort of trouble. But something, maybe my conscience or just simple curiosity compelled me to take a peek.

I hid myself in the shadows opposite the dark portal of the smaller tunnel and gazed into the opening. But what I saw there wasn’t a brawl as I thought initially. It was much worse. There, under dim lights of dying lamps a group of stallions were raping a mare.

I stood enveloped in a thick shade, mortified and unable to avert my eyes from the horror unfolding before me. I knew that it was a situation perfectly fitting the nightmare Canterlot had become. But I still couldn’t accept it. I wasn’t willing to accept it. There probably wasn’t much I could do, but I would rather die than walk by such an atrocity. The Elements might reject me, but that didn’t mean I rejected Harmony.

I had enough of this damned future. I was fed up with all the violence and depravity. I was already tired of my crippled life and helplessness. So, I finally snapped. Fueled by righteousness and pain, I blindly charged forward as fast as my metal limbs would allow. It took me only a few strides to cross the span of the tunnel, sending small whirls of sparks each time my hooves hit the grated floor.

With an inequine scream, sounding like a screech of twisting metal, I lunged at one of the stallions. The inertia of my body was transferred into the jagged tips of my hooves, which punched through the assaulter’s ribcage. As red splattered across my muzzle, I realised that I vastly underestimated the power my artificial body possessed. I only intended to knock that pony from his hooves.

I landed heavily on the yelling, bleeding stallion in a tangle of limbs. Instantly, I tried to stand up, but almost fell again when I slipped on something. I hoped that the unseen fluid wasn’t the oily “blood” escaping the confines of my fragile body once again, otherwise the fight might end quickly and not in my favor. Even though I took the rapists by surprise, they recovered by the time I managed to gain some balance, and as soon as I got off the victim of my assault, I received a powerful buck to my ribs.

My whole frame rattled as I smashed into a wall. By merit of the passage being very narrow, I wasn’t sent far, and that shove was more of an inconvenience than a real damaging blow. These urban ponies didn’t have any true power in their hooves – I bet none of those stallions had bucked a tree in their lives. Being born a unicorn, I had never participated in brawls of any sort, but I knew that speed was of the essence. So I swiftly turned to the remaining assaulters and took a low stance, hooves shoulder width apart.

Right in front me of stood two large stallions. In the near darkness I could barely see them, nor did I have the time to take a proper look. Their partner in crime was lying on the floor wailing in pain, his hooves, one metal and one natural, pressed to the hemorrhaging wound. Behind the thugs, with eyes wide from fear, the poor mare was huddling herself to the wall. With me and the injured stallion blocking the only exit, she was just trying to get as far away as possible from the action.

It was quite a fast turn and my stance, supposed to mimic Rainbow Dash’s pose, was probably right. But it was too late. In the split second after I turned I saw one stallion lower his hoof that was wrapped in a thick rusty chain. It whipped with a sharp whistle through the air and hit me hard in the muzzle, sending me reeling. Or maybe I turned too early – taking the hit with my body would probably be more preferable.

I took a very hard blow, the heavy links had much more strength behind them than the buck of the city pony. With a crisp tinkle of broken glass my left eye burst out in a shower of gleaming shards. Damn it, that was my best eye – sorry, Tin Flower!

From the sheer power of the impact, my head slammed back into the wall. I couldn’t allow myself to be beaten to death in some Goddesses-forgotten sewage tunnel. Not after everything I had been through. Pushing with all my hooves against a bulwark of the wall, I launched myself at the stallion with the chain, who was already beginning to raise it for another devastating strike.

I cannoned into him with all my weight, knocking the stallion from his hooves and hammering his body against the opposite wall. The frightened mare barely managed to scamper away from the devastating percussion, even further holing up in the corner. The force of the impact knocked the air out of the unlucky perpetrator, making him drop the chain on the floor with a painful grunt, there it coiled like a snake ready to spring.

The fight was turning in my favor. I turned to the last assaulter, but he was already helping his bleeding fellow to rise. Seeing my glare, they both hastened their effort to flee. The stallion I smashed into the wall slipped away and was hobbling on the three half-bent legs while holding his barrel with the hoof, trying to catch up with his mates. I vaguely remembered the muffled crunching sound when I slammed into him.

I waited until the sounds of the stallions’ steps faded away and only then I turned to the mare. She half-sat, half-laid pressing herself to the wall in the corner of the dead-end passage. Underneath a long mane, an eye round from horror peeked at me.

I couldn’t blame that mare – her state was totally understandable. Just a minute ago she was being violated in the worst way and now she had to witness how an insane machine almost tore ponies apart right in front of her.

I carefully approached the poor mare, but she only pressed herself harder against the wall, shivering in fear.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” I tried to reassure her in the most soothing and kind voice I could manage.

After a moment of hesitation the mare visibly relaxed, but the wary look she was giving me didn’t leave her eye. Moving slowly, I offered my hoof to help her get up from the cold and dirty floor. She almost didn’t flinch.

“Are you alright?” It was quite a pointless question, of course. But the silent treatment wasn’t something she needed right now.

“Yes.” She finally took my outstretched hoof and picked herself up. “And thanks. For… um, not killing me.”

I blinked in confusion. Well, I tried – I had no eyes left that could blink. But on the inside I blinked.

“I... I was just trying to save you from those stallions.” I may have looked like war incarnate in the process, though. “I’m really sorry if I scared you.”

“It was quite scary.” The mare nodded. She had a soft and warm voice, somewhat reminding me of Fluttershy. Her long hair was only emphasizing the resemblance. “Then, I guess, I should also thank you for saving me from those shitheads.” She spat on the floor and began dusting herself off. Grumbling, she added, “It wasn’t the worst I’ve had, but it’s still not how I planned to spend the rest of the night.”

“Wasn’t the worst...?” I weakly echoed in shock. What could possibly be worse than that? Was there a limit to atrocities in this gruesome future?

“Yeah, there was one time when four local factories had a payday and we were the only brothel open around,” she explained to me in a disgruntled tone. Cringing with the corner of her mouth, she added, “Couldn’t sit for a week after that.”

She was a prostitute… It explained why she recovered so quickly after that happened. However, nothing in her appearance was giving away her occupation – but only on first glance. There was one little thing I didn’t notice before, or just didn’t pay attention – a little symbol on her cheek, right under the eye. It was a glowing pink heart, circled and crossed with uneven black lines. While I didn’t know for sure the nature of the stylized image of a heart, I could definitely say that those dark lines were burns, and recent ones, judging by how they looked.

“But aren’t you supposed to be protected by the Crown?” I asked, remembering Red Wire’s words.

“Well, I would be,” the mare bitterly began, “if they didn’t decide that they didn’t need me anymore.” With those words she flicked her mane away and looked me directly in the face.

I barely stopped myself from taking a step back. The half of her muzzle, previously hidden in confines of her long thick mane, was revealed to me. And it was a one huge ugly burn with her left eye obscured by a nebula, clearly visible even in the wan light.

“I… I’m so sorry,” I stuttered. Nothing else was coming to my mind at the moment.

“It’s alright.” She waved her hoof in a dismissal and thought for a moment. “Actually, it’s not,” the mare began to grumble again, “if I was still a Moth, I wouldn’t have to hide from the blue armors and wouldn’t end up here doing the job I’m not paid for anymore.” She sighed again. “Well, at least I met an equinoid who helps ponies. Not something you can see everyday.”

I just didn’t know how to comment on that. Were all equnoids like Brass Litany? Was it really that bad?

“I think the raid should be over by now.” The mare looked around the sordid narrow passage, now stained with blood. “The thing is, I’m not really familiar with the Tunnels. Um, could you please show me the way to the surface…” She faltered momentarily. “Sorry, I forgot to ask your name.” Rubbing back of her head with the hoof in embarrassment she added, “If you have one, of course.”

Despite deciding to be more careful with my name, I felt that it would be somewhat wrong to lie to that mare. And she still had a bit of a cautious look in her eye – telling my name could dissuade her worries a bit.

“Twilight Sparkle.”

“Clandestine Delight.” She smiled for the first time since I met her. “Nice to meet you.”

Together we exited the small tunnel. To be honest, I still wasn’t very sure about my ability to orient in the Tunnels. I guess I could just guide her back to the entrance I used no so long ago.

I glanced at Clandestine Delight who was warily looking around, as if expecting the stallions from before to return. I couldn’t blame her.

She appeared to be in a much better shape than most ponies I had seen so far. It seemed that being protected by the government had its merits. Also, the thing I didn’t see in the murky dimness of the passway – Clandestine Delight was a pegasus. Built relatively tall for her race, she sported a healthy body of a young, not-malnourished mare – a rarity in this city. Delight was completely devoid of any sort of prosthetics or augmentations. Though, most of her left side – face, neck and chest bore the mark of a severe, badly healed burn. However, a long, wavy, gorgeous mane of a periwinkle color cascaded other those scars, almost hiding them away. It perfectly harmonized with the creamy pink of her remaining eye. An almost white coat, with a barely noticeable pale blue tint was complementing Delight’s mellow and soothing look.

Clandestine Delight glanced in my direction and visibly paled – an impressive feat for a pony of her complexion. What? Did I look that bad in the light of the tunnel? But then I realised that she wasn’t looking at me – her petrified gaze was fixed on something behind my shoulder.

I slowly turned around, following her gaze. And just like Clandestine Delight I froze in place in horror.

From the shadows of a smaller tunnel, a huge silhouette, without a sound, as if gliding, was creeping towards us. It was way too big to belong to a pony or even a zebra. Nor could the gleaming eyes belong to any equine – they were the hungry eyes of a predator.

Its long muzzle, clad in charred steel, was the first to peer out of the veil of darkness. Where nostrils should be, two vents were placed, and wisps of smoke were rising from them in a rhythm with invisible bellows.

Before the rest of the snout appeared from the blackness, a large paw stepped on the floor with an almost inaudible clink. Just like the jaws of that creature, it was covered in metal, ending with long sharp claws from what appeared to be black glass. To my horror, they glistened with fresh blood; shreds of skin and mane were stuck in between the razor sharp blades.

And then the rest of the beast’s head emerged from shadows, only a couple of hooves away from me.

I looked it in the glowing eyes. They were two pools of vibrant jade fire crossed by vertical pupils and framed in a cage of steel. But between the cold metal and green eyes, a small patch of bloodied skin could be seen.

Skin covered in purple scales.

We stared each other in the eyes for an eternity or maybe a mere moment, and I saw how bloodlust, hunger and fury were snuffed away only to be replaced by recognition, shock and… agony.

My mouth silently moved, trying to expel one word stuck in my throat.

“Spike?”

Author's Notes:
And here goes a new chapter which begins the next story arc. I do have a few more things to say, but it all will be in a blog post I'm going to post morrow.
As usual, I appreciate any feedback, and if you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know.
I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.
Gekasso made a special blog for the illustrations:
https://aftersoundproject.tumblr.com/
There were no updates at all for a while, but it's not abandoned.
Aftersound Project Discord server – it is still empty, and I have not many people to talk to. If you don't feel like joining another of countless servers, poke me at least. New friends are always a welcome thing.

Chapter 6 – The city of broken dreams and hopes

Aftersound

=================================

Written by:

Flutterfinar & Geka

Preread and edited by:

mikemeiers, IAmApe

Cover art done by:

=================================

The city of broken dreams and hopes

====================

Spike and I stood like statues amidst the darkness of the Canterlot underground, our gazes interlocked. I felt like I was staring into Spike’s pain filled eyes for hours, but in reality only a few seconds passed. I knew it because I could hear Clandestine Delight choking from the sheer terror she was experiencing. It was the only sound disturbing the grave silence hanging heavily in the air.

I finally remembered what the word “joka” meant. Back when the first Zebrican dignitaries in centuries arrived in Canterlot, they were quite surprised to see a dragon amongst ponies; dragons were usually unwelcome by equines and rare to see outside their scorched homeland. They referred to Spike as “joka kidogo” – a name for all large scaly beings: dragons, sea serpents, wyverns. But since Spike wasn’t a huge, spiteful, death-breathing reptile, the zebras called him “kidogo”, a little one. They got along pretty well – Spike needed something to distract him from the most recent events. She was just as important to him, after all.

It was so long ago, when the war had only begun and our hopes were high. What was thought to be a short liberation mission went on for months, however. Months turned into years, and the distant battle for Equestria wordlessly called for Spike with every snippet of news from the Crystal Empire’s borders. Time after time I rejected his request to join the fray; he was too young and too innocent. But as the years passed by I could see how my number one assistant peaked and pined from a tedious life in laboratories too small for his growing frame. So, with a heavy heart I let Spike go to the frontline, but with one condition – he wasn’t allowed to participate in actual warfare. Nevertheless, his presence was very welcomed and his help was invaluable – Spike used his enchanted flames to pass the most sensitive information without danger of it being intercepted.

Since I came back to life, I had tried to avoid thinking about Spike. It was hard to accept the possible deaths of my friends, but it was something expected – five hundred years had passed after all. I had a sliver of hope that some of them might still be alive, but I would understand if they were but a memory by now. Spike, however… An average dragon’s lifespan could rival that of the true alicorns. But it was a very risky thing to cling onto. Anything could have happened to him in this nightmarish world. He might even have died during the war, I didn’t know how long it lasted after I “died” in the accident. And I didn’t know what was worse. Getting my hopes up was a dangerous path, one potentially leading to a lot of suffering. It seemed, however, that it mattered not in the end.

Like in a mirror, I saw my memories reflected in the eyes of the abomination my foster son had become. I could recognize those eyes anywhere, anytime. Even with Spike’s muzzle hidden by the metal armor and his body much bigger than I remembered. Even in his seemingly feral state of mind, those eyes were the same.

And I knew that Spike recognized me. He didn’t need to see my familiar face or lavender coat to know who was standing right in front of him. Spike was a dragon, a creature of the most primal magic and thus he could feel magic himself. It was five centuries, yes, but I doubted Spike would ever forget the touch of magic that brought him to life. It was the very same magic that whisked me from the realm of oblivion not so long ago. And it now oozed from every crack of my metal body.

I… I didn’t know how to feel. What to do. Any words felt like a bone in my throat. Guided not by my mind, but by raw emotion, I tried to reach out with my hoof. All that time Spike was still, overhanging above me like a gargoyle. My sudden motion provoked a violent reaction.

He reared on his legs and screamed. It was not a ferocious roar of a predator stalking the subterrain darkness for prey to rend. It was a wail of horrible realization and immense agony. I heard a shrill yelp behind me and a loud thud. Clandestine Delight either cowered in fear or simply fainted. But I couldn’t tear my eyes from Spike to check on her.

Before the echoes of the ghastly howl faded away, Spike fell on his knees and began to claw on the steel covering his body. Glass-like talons carved deep into the metal like it was butter, exposing tender flesh beneath. I gasped in horror as drops of crimson blood fell on the grated floor. Without even thinking, I rushed to Spike. But he noticed it the moment I tried to take the first step towards him. Again, he reared up and spread his claws, painting the walls in his gore, accompanying it with a roar of pain and anger. Spike made a full turn on the spot, so fast and vehement that his tail smashed out a chunk of the wall. By the time my hoof finally found a landing on the floor, Spike was rushing away through the tunnel, stumbling into walls and bellowing in agony, leaving deep furrows and red stripes behind.

In a moment he was completely gone, swallowed by the underground passages. I wanted to go after him, but I knew that chasing Spike was pointless right now. I didn’t know The Tunnels at all, but more importantly – something was very wrong with Spike. Something twisted his mind and body. And until I somehow found out what happened to him, it might be dangerous for both of us to meet again.

It was hard to refrain from following the only familiar thing from the past, but I knew it was the best decision in my current situation. Nevertheless, I still felt hollow inside. Spike and I always shared a special bond – I was the closest he had to a mother, and he was just as important to me. Even if he began to forge his own path in later years, I still loved him no less. Seeing Spike like this… it was tearing me apart. However, it wasn’t a crippling sorrow; either I had grown numb from all I had seen already, or I just couldn’t feel that much because of my unnatural body limitations.

I promised to myself that I would learn what caused Spike to be like this and then I would fix it, no matter what. But right now, I had two fillies, waiting for me in this horrible city, to rejoin, not to mention Clandestine Delight, who didn’t take the meeting with Spike very well.

I turned to the poor mare – just as with me, luck didn’t seem to be on her side lately. The pegasus curled on the floor, shielding her head and body with hooves and wings. She quietly whimpered and sobbed, shivering in her horseshoes. My eyes swept over her shaking form, I and saw her cutie mark, clearly visible on the white coat.

A simple subdued pink heart with two bandaids crossing in the centre of it. What a cruel world. I had never seen a cutie mark like this, but it wasn’t the first heart-related one. I could imagine a dozen jobs off the top of my head fitting for Clandestine Delight, but of all options she had to end up with this one, something I wouldn’t even think of. It felt like it was ironic on purpose.

“Hey, Clandestine Delight…” I softly called. But the snow white mare only curled tighter. She appeared to be inclined to silt through the grated floor to the lower level of The Tunnels. I desperately didn’t want to poke the frightened pegasus, in fear of giving her a stroke.

“Delight,” I called again, louder this time. After a moment of thought, I added, “he’s gone now, you’re safe.”

Sobs grew a little quieter and a single pink bloodshot eye tentatively peeked at me from between long feathers. Just as carefully and slowly, Clandestine Delight timidly rose to her hooves, the wide-eyed gaze fixed on the space behind my shoulder all that time. Realising that Spike was gone and she somehow miraculously survived, the pegasus looked at me with amazement and… awe?

“Y-you… it..? What..? How did you…?” Clandestine Delight stuttered, alternating between pointing with her hoof at me and the now vacant tunnel. I glanced behind, just in case.

“I knew him once, long ago,” I sadly uttered, turning back to the pegasus. I had some explaining to do. And I didn’t want to lie or hide this time, nor could the former prostitute be any menace to me anyway. Also, I desperately wanted to tell somepony my story, to share the heavy burden. I craved for a bit of genuine empathy after all the recent events.

“Are you…” Clandestine Delight blinked, looking at me with even more wonderment than before, “... a Former One?” She whispered with a reverence.

I had to rummage through my latter memories, I’d clearly heard that already… Right? They were the ponies who had somehow found ways to be immortal, or at least live for centuries, according to Scuff Gear at least. However, it wasn’t really my case.

“Not exactly…” I began. “I lived five centuries ago. And died.” I wasn’t completely sure when or how, though. A stray thought visited my mind. Could the “original” Twilight Sparkle... still be alive? No. There was no way in Equestria I would let things be like this. Anyway. “But I was brought back to life a few days ago,” I finished.

Clandestine Delight wordlessly moved her jaws, gears turning in her head.

“That was… in the Princesses’ Ages, right? Unbelievable...” She finally said with uncertainty. The pegasus mare visibly stumbled with her next words. If I were to meet somepony from a half millennium ago, back in my time of course, I would have some trouble with what to say, too.

For the first time I acutely felt a huge chasm between myself and modern ponies. For them, I was a relic, so ancient that my name had long since dispersed in the river of time. Clandestine Delight and I barely had anything in common, and not just because she was a pony and I was a machine with a magic imprint of a pony.

Once again I wished I knew how to sigh. My hope to find a warmth of compassion, shattered, just like my glass eyes. This was where our encounter ended, it seemed. That was a shame. Clandestine Delight was the first decent pony so far, not counting Flower and Wire, obviously. Speaking of which, I had already spent too much time underground. It wasn’t wasted by any means, but that didn’t make it any less gone.

“Listen, Delight,” I awkwardly began, “it was nice to meet you, but I really have to go now. I will point you the way to the surface, of course…”

“Wait!” the pegasus suddenly yelled, grabbing me by the shoulders. Looking me in the eye, she continued in a pleading tone, “please, take me with you!”

I was taken aback by such a request. It was the last thing I expected.

“But why? You don’t even know where I’m going,” I asked, trying to understand Clandestine Delight’s plea.

“I have nowhere to go…” Clandestine Delight replied, her voice breaking. The pegasus hanged down her head and quietly sniffled. I saw the mare battling with herself, trying to decide how much she wanted to admit the direness of her situation without sounding too desperate. Then she looked at me with a hope and firmly continued, only with a slight waver. “And if you became alive again a few days ago, you might need some help around, everything has to be new to you, right? I owe you that much – you saved my life.”

Clandestine Delight had a fair point – I desperately needed help. Regardless of if I met the girls or not, unfortunately, they didn’t seem to know much about anything beyond The Edge. Also, something was telling me that Clandestine Delight wouldn’t last long on her own. She didn’t appear to be the kind of mare made for life in modern Canterlot. We needed friends out there, we needed each other.

The decision was not hard to make.

“Alright. Then let’s go, I have friends to meet.”

“So, Miss Sparkle,” Delight gingerly tried to start a conversation. We trotted side by side through still empty tunnels in silence for a while, and it was starting to become quite awkward. “Who are your friends exactly?”

I chuckled. Probably for the first time since I woke up in Flower’s workshop, I felt amusement. Clandestine Delight still looked at me with awe in her eyes as if I was one of the Princesses. It was just as confusing as endearing. I had my share of respect as head of the royal research facility and a hero at some point. But this was ridiculous – I was a traveler from a different time at most right now, which was barely a reason to treat me like a walking miracle. Not a single title I once had was worth an old song anymore.

“You don’t have to address me like that, Delight,” I said, glancing at the pegasus mare. “I was only twenty-four years old. My friends just called me Twilight back then.” With a considerable effort I let a wave of nostalgia pass over me.

“Heh, you are still older than me.” Nevertheless, Clandestine Delight relaxed considerably. “And there is no need to use my full name, nopony does. It’s usually ‘Del’ or ‘Clandie’. Pick the one you like more.”

“I’ll stick with ‘Del’,” I replied after a moment. Remembering from what it all started, I continued. “About your question – they are two fillies from The Edge.”

Upon hearing those words, Del’s brows instantly went up.

“The Edge?” She echoed in disbelief. “I thought most of them hate equinoids’ guts.” The pegasus blinked and stuttered. “Um, I mean… I know that you are actually not an equinoid…“

“I get what you want to say.” I nodded to Delight, dispelling the awkwardness appearing between us once more. “Ironically, it was one of those fillies who made my body and accidentally resurrected me.”

“Ressu-what?”

“Brought me back to life.”

A heavy silence was the answer to my last reply. It was really hard for me to come up with something both of us could talk about freely and casually. I was curious about many things, as usual, but asking Delight how she became a prostitute or how she got those burns would be very insensitive. However, it was Del herself who saved us from that situation.

“What were you planning to do after you meet you friends?” she asked, her head tilted and wings fluttering as she warily glanced around. In the corner of my remaining eye I could see a distant movement in the branching passways. It was equine silhouettes marking the return of the underground dwellers.

“I was going to visit a library or an archive.” I sped up just a little. The empty tunnels weren’t just unsettling, but also filled with ponies that very well might be dangerous. “Somewhere I can learn. I’ve totally missed the last five hundred years.”

“And after that?” That was a good question. Now that I had Spike to save, I couldn’t just go to Stalliongrad. Not that it was concrete plan before; I still had no actual proof of the distant city being a real thing these days. And if it was true, Stalliongrad was very far away – leaving without preparation was a bad idea.

“I don’t really know.” Uncertainly, I added, “maybe try to travel to Stalliongrad eventually.”

“You think it’s real?” Apparently, Del had heard of it and had some doubts as well.

“You don’t?” I glanced at the pegasus mare who had an unreadable expression on her face. I didn’t look forward to her making hay of my hopes.

“There hasn’t been any contact with Stalliongrad in years and nopony who has gone there ever returned,” Delight mused. That didn’t sound very inspiring. “There are only rumors. A lot of them, though. It all started after one of The Former Ones was said to have left to Stalliongrad.”

Now that sounded somewhat good – Del’s words perfectly aligned with Scuff Gear’s story. It still wasn’t solid proof, but as Starswirl always said: “Coincidence is a lazy word for lazy ponies.”

“Do you know who it was?”

“No.” Del shook her head. “It was a while ago, long before I was even born.”

It all was either an urban legend or a very strange story. A supposedly immortal pony left her friend to travel to a very far away place. And she never returned or was heard of again. Even if she wasn’t immortal, it was no average pony. Stalliongrad was either a haven too good to ever leave, or a place so horrible that it was a danger even for those who had managed to evade death for centuries. I needed to learn more before I would try and do it myself while dragging two fillies and possibly a young mare along with me.

As we trotted briskly, we met a passerby, the first one since I descended into the underground. A figure with their whole body concealed in rags, disguising their nature, walked past us, paying us no attention. In the distance I could see equines tentatively peeking out of the shadows, or galloping between the smaller passages. It would be mere minutes before this part of The Tunnels was bustling with life again.

“From what I remember, Stalliongrad has a high chance to still be standing.” I shared my opinion on that matter. To put an end to discussing vague rumors, I continued, “and it’s a better fate to try and travel there than to wait for Canterlot to collapse on itself.”

“True.” Delight was surprisingly quick to agree on that matter. “Many ponies are looking for ways to leave Canterlot these days.”

“ Is that so?”

“Nopony wants to talk or even think about it, but all who live in Canterlot are aware how close we are,” the pegasus mare sorrowfully answered, hanging her head. Her face darkened even more and she added. “There was some hope before, but it was all gone after that winter.”

“What actually happened?” Almost everypony I met mentioned the absurdly cold winter, but I still didn’t actually know anything about it. “I’ve heard two different versions from The Edge ponies. That it was either the Pink Butterflies or some kind of mishap.”

I still had trouble believing what Scuff Gear said about the magic running out. That was not how things worked.

“A part of the magical shield on the south of the city was gone for more than a month. It was cold before, but became outright freezing.” Delight visibly shuddered at those words and hugged herself with her wings. “And I mean deathly freezing. Staying on the streets for more than an hour was dangerous, even for equinoids.”

“But what caused it?”

“We were all told that it was the terrorists who blew up the shield’s spell amplifiers. But we are told many things, you know.” Delight sighed deeply, a thoughtful look visiting her face once again.

“During that time most of the ponies who were visiting brothels were coming not for sex, but just to warm themselves. Not like anypony could get it up in that cold, anyway.” She smirked on that, but her smile was gone with the next phrase. “And we were all too starved to have strength for anything.” After a brief pause she continued. “There was one old stallion who paid for the whole night – that’s a lot of e-bits, mind you. So, we were huddling together under the blanket and he told me something.” The pegasus mare paused again, remembering the story that happened years ago. “He said that the Pink Butterflies may be crazy, but they are not completely brainless. The shield has to be round and because of that it covers Everfree just as well. And the Butterfucks wouldn’t be so stupid as to blow the hole right above them – the rain falls on sinners and saints just the same. Also, why didn’t they do it before? They had centuries at their disposal, and shield amps are not even guarded, unlike the Spire they did blow up.” Del paused letting her words to sink in. “There was no evidence or reason for them to do so. But they are the boogiepony of Canterlot – if something bad happens it’s either the Pink Butterflies or the equinoids, depending on who brings the news, the Crown or the TCE.”

As she was finishing her story, we began to meet more and more ponies and equinoids filling the subterranean paths. To my surprise, the most prominent amongst them were the pegasi. However, they didn’t look very good. Most of them appeared to be either diseased or drug addicts. Sickly looking things with their wingtips dragging on the floor, they walked slowly, slouching against the walls. Other pegasi sported a lot of prosthetics, more than I expected from Tin Flower’s words. There were even ones with metal wings, a sight that was making me uncomfortable.

“So, do you think it was equinoids?” Since Delight’s words implied the innocence of the Pink Butterflies, there was only one option left. After meeting Brass Litany, I had no trouble believing in such a possibility.

“No, they suffered just as much from the cold, even those who hate ponies. And equinoids rarely do anything extreme, no matter how loudly they claim to despise us.” Del shook her head. “That stallion told me that it all happened because of the magic thinning out.”

“Thinning out?” Come on, not her too… Everything could change over centuries, but not the magic, its laws were absolute. “There is no such thing. I was a unicorn, I would know.”

“He was a unicorn too.” The pegasus shrugged. “‘There is a lot of magic stored in gemstones. Maybe too much,’ he told me. I may not know much about the magic myself, but he had a point. The older ponies tell that it was easier to cast spells before. My grandma told me that it was easier to fly and control weather years ago, and it’s not just because she had grown old.”

I had no answer for that. I had never even heard of something like a “thinning” of the magic. Formerly, Canterlot was the unofficial unicorn capital and thus a lot of spells were cast on a daily basis around the city, even including the movement of celestial bodies. But it didn’t make spells any less potent. The same could be said about all the large cities with a lot of magic cast in them. It was just not how magic worked. However, things were very different now. Canterlot was substantially bigger than any settlement from my time. The strain put on the thaumagical field should be unimaginable. I had read all the books about magic I could get my hooves on, and none of them predicted or mentioned something like a possible depleting of the magic in certain locations. It was just another mystery of the modern world to add to the list.

“Um, Twilight, where were you supposed to meet with your friends?” Delight pulled me out of my thoughts with a question. Despite it sounding very simple, it implied an additional meaning: when were we going to get out of these forsaken tunnels already? Neither Delight nor I enjoyed being here at all.

“The south-east Thunderspire.” If the equinoid’s words were to be trusted, I was supposed to be somewhere near the east one. But looking around I failed to see any pointers to the exit or any signs confirming that I had come to the right place. So, I reluctantly admitted, “To be honest, I don’t really know how to get there.”

“I thought you knew The Tunnels, you even wanted to show me the exit.” Del looked at me with raised eyebrows.

“Not really, I’ve only learned a little, sorry,” I said apologetically. With Delight not knowing The Tunnels herself, it could quickly become a perilous situation.

“It’s alright, you've only been in Canterlot for mere days, after all.” The pegasus kindheartedly dismissed my words. Then she stopped in one of the deep shadows and began looking around as if searching for something. “Okay, give me a moment.”

I followed Delight’s gaze and saw that she was intently studying the paintings on the walls. Her eye jumped from one cryptic inscription to another. It took about a minute of her squinting at the seemingly unintelligible lettering. Finally, Del poked me in the side and pointed at one of the smaller tunnels not so far away.

“That should be the exit.”

Without an answer I headed towards it. Delight instantly joined me, and together we made a beeline for the narrow duct. While she was looking for any sign, she had drawn the attention of a few local stallions, who were now openly ogling her.

I warily glanced back when we entered the dark corridor. I wasn’t sure I could handle another fight. But, fortunately, nopony was following us. The short path led us to the familiar sight of rusted stairs.

“I thought you didn’t know The Tunnels either,” I commented on Delight‘s pathfinding success. Not that I was ungrateful.

“I don’t know the local parts, I was relocated to the Silken Flute only a few months ago,” Del replied in a sad voice.

Wait. The Silken Flute? Wasn’t that the name of the re-opened brothel from that disgusting advert? What had happened to it?

“But I didn’t spend my whole life in brothels, I lived at one of the Spires when I was a filly. The underground layout was the same there.” She finished explaining and glanced back as we reached the stairs. I mirrored her motion and saw a black silhouette at the beginning of the passage. “Let’s get out of here already, I’m in no mood for any more adventures tonight.”

The stairs leading us skywards were impossibly rusty, much rustier than anything before. The sorrel sloughs were coming off the steps and walls in huge flakes. Most probably it was caused by excessive moisture – every surface was glistening with a layer of dew. Where it came from, however, was another question completely.

Delight, who quickly reached an access cover, was puffing and panting both from ascending the steep staircase and from fruitless attempts to push open the jammed hatch. She obviously wasn’t made for a harsh life. I joined her side and shoved the heavy metal trap door with my shoulder. With an ear splitting creak the door finally gave up and without hesitation we left the vile confines of the subterranean kingdom.

Unsurprisingly, we appeared in a short and narrow dead-end alley stuffed with trash containers. It was a very familiar sight, though a few things were different.

First of all, the street and the space above it were filled with a thick mist. And it seemed the higher it was, the denser the fog was becoming, probably seamlessly blending with the clouds in the sky. Though, that might not be the case, since I was able to clearly observe the Thunderspires from The Edge. No wonder the staircase was so damp, the humidity in the air was reaching its limit.

Delight, not giving me time to thoroughly take in my surroundings, quickly trotted ahead to the main street. I turned back and glanced at the gaping access port. Shouldn’t we close it? I looked back at the pegasus mare, who noticed me not following her and stopped herself. I motioned with my head at the trap door, but Del only shook her head and answered by dismissively waving her hoof. To be honest, I had no desire to interact with the jammed hatch. I didn’t want to risk damaging my fragile hydraulic system. That or break something else. Giving the entrance one last glance, I shrugged and joined Delight.

Delight confidently and jovially walked through the vapor, like it was nothing. Probably a pegasus thing, for me it was like being lost in a huge bowl of milk. The fact that it was still night outside didn’t help in the slightest.

Since I could barely see anything, it was hard for me to tell how wide the street was. But it certainly wasn’t desolate. In the fog I could see equine silhouettes, most of them winged of course. Painting the mist in pastel colors, neon lights were hiding somewhere in its depths. Fortunately, the thoroughfare wasn’t as lively as the last one from my experience. A few ponies passed near me, but I was too focused on not losing Delight to give them more than a momentary glance.

As I followed her, I stumbled a few times, almost tripping over my hooves. She probably caught sight of it and commented over her shoulder.

“The east Spire pegasi are the laziest ones, their nests often fall apart and cover the ground in a mist, like this. Instead of being high in the sky doing their job, they’re high on the zebras’ stuff.”

“So, that’s what it means to be ‘high,’” I silently noted to myself. I was too busy fighting with the remains of pegasi’s cloud building to say something aloud. The way Delight walked through the condensed moisture in the air, like it wasn’t even there, irked me. It acutely reminded me again how Moonie and I tried to create artificial wings only to fail time after time, because there was something more to pegasi than just two more limbs and lots of feathers.

Suddenly, the fog abruptly ended, as if was cut off by a glass wall. I stumbled, barely keeping myself on my hooves. Fortunately, Del stopped me from kissing the pavement with my muzzle. As I raised my only eye to the skies, I was graced by the sight of the east Thunderspire in all its endless glory.

To say that it was tall would be an offense. The gargantuan building dwarfed the highest spires of old Canterlot; it was putting Manehattan’s skyscrapers to shame. For its steeple was not only scraping the firmament, but tearing the heavens asunder.

As if with roots, the tower was digging in the ground with ten wide footings, forming thirty-stories-high arches in between them. The trunk, the main body of the Spire was gradually narrowing to the point where it was as pointed as a needle. Though it was impossible to tell from this far away how sharp it really was at the very top.

So unlike pegasi’s creations, the Spire’s entirety was made from metal. And it wasn’t covered in bloody ulcers of corrosion, no, it was still gleaming, reflecting flashes of constant lighting and moonrays.

It wasn’t an exaggeration that the spoke on top of the Spire tore a hole in the sky. There indeed was an opening in the neverending thunderstorm.. The open space wasn’t wide, but it was enough to let through a few beams of the soft moonlight.

However, those pale shafts were almost lost in a chaos of electricity arcs ceaselessly striking the exterior of the Spire. I expected an unbearable cacophony to be filling the air, but strangely, only a distant muffled booming could be heard. Apparently, a dampening spell was used to keep the city from the fiery roar of the storm.

But how did the Spire function? I glanced over it again, from the top to bottom. Wait… It couldn't be… Where in the world did they get so much arcanium? It was no mistake, the surface of the Spire’s top half bore a trademark sheen of the rare and potent metal. It almost instantly dawned on me how it worked, it couldn’t be a very complex enchantment and construction. It was the sheer size of it which was mind-blowing. I was looking at the biggest lightning rod in Equestria. So simple, yet so overwhelming.

It was an obelisk erected to defy nature, to enrage it. To tame its disastrous fury into a beast of burden. To feed all of Canterlot with the power of its righteous anger. It was so risky and so amazing. Dangerous, yet advantageous. It was something only the pegasi could pull off.

Finally, I was able to tear my eye from the almost unreal visage. I probably spent quite a while staring at the Spire in bewilderment, because Delight was giving me an amused yet proud look, practically saying, “It isn’t something you had back in your days, is it?”

“Ah, feels like back home!” Delight exclaimed turning back to the Thunderspire and taking a deep breath of the ozone-smelling air. “Haven’t visited the Spires in ages. The damn job,” she added, shamelessly stretching herself and cracking her joints.

The pegasus mare already mentioned that she spent her childhood at a Thunderspire. Now that she mentioned it again, it reignited the question I had from the moment I learned about Del’s occupation. How did she, a perfectly healthy mare, end up as a prostitute? It was too straightforward a question to ask when I just met her, and I didn’t have time when we were hurriedly getting out of The Tunnels. Now was the perfect opportunity.

“If you were born at the Spire, why didn’t you stay there?” Was she ineligible to work as a part of a weather team? Or a technician? Or whoever else they needed as part of a Thunderspire personnel? I mean, a prostitute, of all the jobs possible in this huge city...

“I was pretty enough to become a Moth, it wasn’t a chance I was going to miss.” Delight answered, coquettishly smoothing her mane.

“What..?” I was at loss of words. I expected any answer, a story of her being forced under dire circumstances to accept such a fate, but not the fact that Delight chose her job willingly.

The first reaction from Del was her eyebrow trying to migrate to her forehead and an irritated expression trying to overtake her facial features. But it fled her face as soon as she realized that I didn’t mean any disrespect by that, but rather was ignorant of the modern order of things, and an understanding smile took its place.

“Don’t know how it was back in the Princesses’ Age, but these days working at a brothel is the best job one could wish for.” Delight thought for a moment, squinting her eye and pointing her gaze skywards. “At least in the Outer City.”

It didn’t help my confusion, not in the slightest. So I just continued to stare at Delight, failing to comprehend the situation. There had been a lot of things in Canterlot I had trouble understanding, but for most of them I could imagine an explanation. This, however… a mare of pleasure being the most prized job… It was beyond any reasoning.

Del either didn’t notice my lasting confusion, or simply decided to ignore it. Instead she asked me a question absolutely unrelated to our discussion.

“Let’s not make your friends wait. You said they’ll be waiting for you at the south-east Spire, right?”

All I could do was nod in answer. To that, Delight bit her tongue and twirled in place, taking a look at our surroundings. It seemed that being under open skies lifted her spirits considerably, or it could be the closeness to a pegasus neighbourhood that cheered her up.

“There.” She pointed with her wingtip in a general direction on the left and without missing a beat began to trot ahead. I had nothing left but to follow the pegasus mare.

We walked in the shadows of buildings on the edge of a square surrounding the Spire’s foundation. Del moved fast, with a slight spring in her step, so by the time I caught up with the pegasus, we had already dived back into the streets. Now that my bewilderment had passed, I had some questions to ask. But I had to state something first.

“Brothels were prohibited by the Princesses back in my days,” I said, trotting by Del’s side. She had slowed down since we entered a narrow street and kept to shadows, though she didn’t look alerted by any means; her eye still shone with a calm joy.

“That’s funny,” Del chuckled, “the Crown unofficially protects and maintains the brothel network.” Although Delight appeared to be relaxed, her gaze was sharp and she constantly scanned the street. Soon I noticed a pattern in our movements. We were giving a wide berth, if it was possible, to any groups of stallions larger than two.

“Unofficially?” I echoed only word that wasn’t making any sense for me. Considering what I had heard about that new “Crown”, supporting brothels wouldn’t be out of character for them. Why wouldn’t they openly admit it?

“Well, you will never hear the Crown mentioning moths in reports or during appeals to the public. Nor do they answer any direct questions.” Delight shrugged, apparently being in the dark about the reasons behind that as well. “But if anypony tries to attack the brothels or something like that, the Royal Guard will appear. Saw that one time, it was scary. And we had to clean a lot of blood from the walls and windows after that.” She cringed at that, but then continued. “We always got food, no matter what. Those who don’t have a place of their own are given one under a brothel’s roof. And it’s warm, warmer than any other, especially in winter. The old bed sheets, though.” Del shuddered in disgust. “The pay is stable. Not very big, but never delayed either.” Looking at me with a smile, the pegasus finished, “it’s one of the best jobs in Canterlot, as I said.”

In accordance with a longstanding tradition, that explanation resulted in more questions instead of answers. Actually, that wasn’t right. I had got a good answer explaining why somepony would prefer such a job. I had trouble imagining… er, the working process, but the benefits were obvious. Though, I didn’t get the most important answer: “Why would the government do that in such a peculiar not-really-discreet fashion?”

Delight distracted me from digesting the new knowledge with a bit of a surprising question.

“What was the best job in your time?” She asked innocently with genuine curiosity.

I had to think on that. Most of the ponies in old Equestria had jobs corresponding to their cutie marks, thus there wasn’t much of a choice. Nor was there a stark difference in benefits between different jobs. Sure, some salesponies or craftsponies were earning substantially more compared to that of, let’s say, janitors. But it never was an issue to my knowledge.

“All the jobs were good back then.” I finally gave my answer. Realising that it probably wasn’t what Delight wanted to hear, I added, “At least, I never met a pony who didn’t like theirs.”

“Huh.” Del seemed to be pleased with the answer, despite its vagueness. “I don’t think I ever met a pony who didn’t hate theirs,” she joked with a dry laugh; there was no sign of a smile in her eye. “And what was your job?”

“I was a chief scientist during the war. A librarian before that.” Being a protege of the Princess and a Bearer of the Elements didn’t count as jobs, right?

“Which did you like more?” Delight asked, oddly squinting at me.

“Being a librarian.” That answer didn’t take me long to come with.

“And you said that everypony liked their jobs.” Del chided me in a somewhat mocking and disappointed tone, shaking her head.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like being a scientist.” I tried to excuse myself, though I couldn’t deny that Delight had a point.

“It was part of my job to read emotions, Twilight. It’ll be hard to fool me, even if I have to judge you mostly by your voice,” Delight said with a smug, yet soft smile. I felt like it was an appropriate time to ask her the same question.

“Did you like your job?” I hoped that it wouldn’t incite a negative reaction from Delight. She didn’t seem to be uncomfortable talking about it before.

“Kinda. The benefits outweighed the downsides.” Her face darkened for a moment, but brightened again almost instantly. “The fear of becoming a red splat on a wall courtesy of the Royal Guard had its influence on patrons. And as I said, not all ponies came by only for sex, some just sought some comfort and compassion.”

I could only shake my head at that. If I didn’t know better, I would say that I was in a world ruled by Discord, for everything seemed to be put upside down.

“I barely understand how anypony can live here,” I muttered, still shaking my metal skull in disbelief.

Del just shrugged. Now that she had recovered from our misadventures in the Tunnels, she was way too happy for somepony living in a nightmare. Despite all the trouble Delight had been through, she was easygoing, but in a good way, unlike Nebula. Obviously, she had been hurt more than once during her relatively short life, but it didn’t stop her from being kind. Maybe the future wasn’t as bad as I thought, for as long there were ponies like Clandestine Delight, there was hope.

“It’s not that bad, really,” she elaborated, probably deciding that a simple gesture wouldn’t suffice as an answer for me. “Well, it was better before that winter. I wouldn’t have been kicked out of the brothel if not for that.” Her face became contorted in a scowl on saying that.

“How so?” I could barely see any connection.

“It was very devastating and scared the crap out of everypony in Canterlot. The screws began to tighten afterward.” Delight let a deep sigh escape her lips. “Retired or injured moths were usually kept as serviceponies. But lately brothels keep only a skeleton staff. So, they nullified my Moth ID and threw me out to the streets after I got those burns.” Bitterly, she added, “I’m sure that ten years ago they could have given me surgery.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” That was quite an unfortunate combination of circumstances.

“It’s not their fault.” If before Delight’s face was expressing just displeasure, now her eye burned with anger. “It’s all on the TCE.”

“The TCE?” That was an even less obvious relation, one that left me with no guess. “What do they have to do with all of this?”

“They started to blow up brothels one by one in the last few years. The Silken Flute was one of them. It was made to look like the Pink Butterfucks’ job, but everypony knows better.” Her scorn was abating, giving place to chagrin.

And now the Silken Flute was opening its doors again.

“But why would they do that?”

“The TCE tried for years to make their own brothel network, but with equinoids instead of ponies.” That wasn’t really a bad idea on one hoof and absolutely horrible on another. Actually, it wasn’t a good idea, no matter how you sliced it. Unless equinoids would willingly choose to work in said brothels, overwise it would be even worse than the current situation. But as it appeared to me, despite being as sentient as ponies, they were considered property. I already wasn’t very happy to learn that such practice as prostitution had returned to Equestria, though it seemed to be a voluntary thing. Creating artificial ponies who would spend their eternal lives as sex slaves would be vile beyond comprehension. Oblivious to my thoughts, Delight went on with her explanation. “The Crown was always persecuting any attempts at that. But recently the TCE has got much more influence in Canterlot, and they’re beginning to press on the Crown.” An expression of wrath twisted her kind face again, as she said the next phrase. “The TCE pays drug fiends from The Tunnels to blow up buildings near brothels, so it won’t look like a direct attack.” The flame was snuffed from her eye, replaced by hollowness. “If not for that, I would be a goner for sure.”

“If it makes you feel better, I didn’t survive an explosion.” I wasn’t sure if it was actually true or even the most appropriate thing to say at the moment. Delight’s life wasn’t all cupcakes and muffins, but it seemed better than mine, especially right now.

“Ouch.” The pegasus mare gave me a mirthless sympathetic glance and said no more.

For a while we traversed a maze of Canterlot streets in relative silence. The city around us lived and breathed, indifferent to our journey. The paths chosen by Delight weren’t very crowded, nor were they some kind of creepy back alleys either. She moved nimbly, yet in an inconspicuous way that wasn’t drawing any unwanted attention. Del took turn after turn without any hesitation, navigating the stone and metal web Canterlot had become. So far, Delight’s offer was one of the most fortunate things that had happened to me. Without her it would had taken me hours to cover that much ground, if I managed not to get lost or get in trouble in the first place. I could only wonder at Del’s navigation skills, it was something that could be acquired only by being born in this labyrinth.

Despite putting reunion with Tin Flower and Red Wire as my top priority, I deliberately avoided thinking about it any further. Countless questions concerning their fate swarmed my mind. Most of them began with “what if…” and none of them made me feel any better. I tired to divert my thoughts to something else, but it was incredibly hard to think of anything even remotely positive. Spike? Alone and suffering deep down below. Clandestine Delight? A victim of the vile city, her life broken and dreams stomped. Canterlot itself? Neither Nightmare Moon nor Discord even came close to that level of wrongdoing.

However, I caught a glimpse of something really important in the cauldron of my bubbling mind. It was a little detail I didn’t properly consider before, but it didn’t make it any less crucial. We were to meet at the south-east Thunderspire, but… where exactly? It wasn’t just a remark from my perfectionism, it was an actual issue. The Spires, judging by the east one, were huge and surrounded by quite a wide area.

“Del, do you know any places near the Thunderspire which could serve as a meeting place?” I asked the pegasus mare who seemed to be humming some melody to herself. ”Like the main entrance?”

“The main entrance is a bad idea, it’s guarded pretty heavily.” Delight shook her head in disapproval. “Loitering around it is an invitation for a hoof to kick our asses. Or your friends’.” Raising her eyebrow she asked skeptically, “Didn’t you discuss where you agreed to meet?”

“There wasn’t any agreement,” I said in hollow voice, to Delight’s further confusion. I forced myself to continue. “We planned to go to the city together, to a place near the south-east Spire. But then things got hectic and we got separated. I… I’m not even sure they will come,” I said, almost choking.

Delight gave me a very sympathetic glance and moved a bit closer to my side, almost brushing against me. It was a little thing, but it did help. However, Delight didn’t intent to settle for only that.

“I think the best call will be to try and intercept your friends at the sole exit from The Edge in this area. I have been there a few times, you can’t miss a pony coming out of it.” With a smile she added, “and it’s even on our way.”

“Thank you so much, Del.” Her kindness was like a glass of water in the middle of a scorching desert. Either I was overdramatizing how horrible ponies had become, and there actually were enough decent ponies in Canterlot, or I was just incredibly lucky.

“Don’t mention it.”

We spent the next fifteen minutes or so just wordlessly trotting through narrow and short streets until we came to a big and wide thoroughfare. It looked like the one where I emerged from the underground for the first time. I was already preparing to fight my way to the other side of the street, but thankfully it wasn’t needed – Delight simply turned left and I followed. It took us another five minutes of walking, and we arrived at a little square formed by tall, looming buildings. It was like a bigger version of the entrances I encountered before, a dead end with a hatch and garbage cans. However, this wasn’t so much an access door, but more of a hole torn in the ground. Occasionally, ponies and equinoids would dive into the darkness or appear from it and join those who stood around. Those ponies most likely were traders or something like that, because they constantly exchanged items with newcomers. The only thing they seemed to have was metal scrap. Rusty or gleaming, twisted or undamaged, it was filling crates, which stood in the place where I expected trash containers to be. Some ponies just waited, crowding together near burning barrels, warming themselves or quietly chatting.

There were no fillies amongst them.

Apparently, Delight noticed it as well and gave me a concerned look. I looked at her, trying to keep a neutral expression. She silently motioned with her head to a vacant place near the edge of the little square on the corner of one of the buildings. We walked towards it and I sat on cold pavement. After dusting the ground with her tail, Delight joined me. From our position I could see both the entrance and the huge wall dividing Canterlot from its industrial zone. I craned my neck around the corner and through an entwinement of cables and girders I saw the unnatural thickness of a storm surrounding the south-east Spire. We were close to it indeed.

There couldn’t be a better position to wait for somepony coming out of that tunnel, if it really was the only exit leading out from The Junkyard. Considering my experience with The Tunnels and Nebula’s sector, I had my doubts about that. Flower and Wire could easily walk under the Spire and exit on the other side of it, if I understood the underground layout right. But Delight lived in Canterlot for years and seemed to know the city pretty well, so I trusted her judgement. However, all that didn’t exclude the chance that the fillies could have already left The Tunnels and our waiting there was an exercise in futility.

Time stretched by, and with every pony or equinoid coming out of the gaping void, my fear was only gaining strength. Of course, we had been there only for twenty minutes, at most, and it would be foolish to expect Flower and Wire the moment we arrived. There was another explanation why the girls weren’t coming, but I fought with my mind as hard as I could to block that thought. I was winning for now.

More time passed, more than the last time I made such an observation. I glanced at Delight out of the corner of my eye. She didn’t appear to mind the prolonged waiting at all. She sat a bit slumped, but her eye moved incessantly, scanning our surroundings and checking all the equines close to us. Like Cerberus, I guarded the gates to Tartarus under Canterlot, and she guarded me.

It was very kind of her, and I had a feeling Delight was doing that not only because she thought she owed me, but because her kind nature compelled her to look out for me. But it couldn’t go on forever. My festering fear finally bore fruit in the form of words.

“Delight,” I said, trying not to sound desperate, “what if they already came to the surface and are waiting for me somewhere near the Spire?”

I had no doubt that Delight sensed apprehension in my voice, though it probably wasn’t obvious to anypony without her skills.

“Have any of them been to the city before?” she asked me back in a calm voice. Even if Del sensed my growing distress, she did everything she could to not follow suit.

“Yes, Tin Flower said that she got my gems somewhere in Canterlot,” I replied, wondering if it really made a difference.

“Then she is bound to know that this square” –Del made a motion with her wing– ”is the safest place to stay for Edge ponies. It’s considered a neutral patch even by police, since they buy the old metal occasionally.” Seeing that her explanation wasn’t completely reassuring, she added, “But we can go and check in the Spire’s vicinity if you want.”

I shook my head. I believed that both Flower and Wire were sensible enough to come to the same conclusion as Delight, to make this place an impromptu meeting point. Going to look for them now felt like giving up.

Del gave me a short condolent glance, and we both returned to out silent vigil.

The silence hung in the air between us, not awkwardly like before, but ominously instead. Eventually it began to affect Delight as well as me, getting on her nerves, making the pegasus mare fidget uncomfortably.

“You know,” she suddenly said, “I also have a hard time imagining how it was back in your time. I almost don’t know anything about it either. I know that there was The Great War, the Princesses and practically no technology.”

“Don’t they teach history in schools?” I wouldn’t be surprised if she answered no, or even if she would say that there were no schools anymore.

“Not really,” Delight answered somewhat sadly. “Good teachers taught us how to survive, bad ones just let us go home all the time and went out drinking themselves to death.”

“That’s horrible.” I was kind of glad to know that the educational system still existed in Canterlot, at least in the city itself – The Edge seemed to be absolved of such a luxury. But the way it worked was disappointing at best. From all general subjects, history was, if not the most important, certainly an absolutely necessary one. For those who didn’t know it were bound to repeat it, as the saying went. Though, I couldn’t remember Equestria being that bad at any point in time.

“It’s practically impossible to get to the Inner City, and those who try and actually learn things usually end up as teachers. Of the second kind.” Delight tried to explain to me, which, of course, gave birth to more questions. “And no education is needed to work in the Outer City.” She scowled and grimly added, “Or the Edge.”

So, there was a clear segregation between two parts of the city, which was caused not by the merit of the citizens, but most probably by their wealth. I knew absolutely nothing of the Inner City, but I was almost absolutely sure that was how things were. We were in a dystopic version of Equestria, and the Inner City being elite residential areas restricted only to the wealthy was perfectly fitting the rotten rhythm of decadence.

Delight seemed to be very inclined to distract me from the dark thoughts. And maybe herself too.

“So, The Great War probably was very bad, and having almost no technology ought to suck as well.” Saying that the war with Sombra was bad was to say nothing, even of what I had seen. Nor could I agree on the second part either – we were perfectly content without advanced technologies. However, Del wasn’t finished. “But how was it living in the same world with the Goddesses? How were they?”

It was a question I should have expected. It was the age of no Princesses, after all.

How did one describe the living Goddesses? Were there even words that could match their perfection? Did I even have the right to pass their magnificence through generations to the world where they were absent for so long that they were forgotten?

I looked to the heavens for my answer. There, beyond the Edge, far beyond the mangled soil of the Toxic Dump, the sunrise had begun. Through the gap in the distant clouds, grossly incandescent rays of Her Sun effortlessly and mercilessly sliced the gloom of the night’s veil. The fiery orb barely rose above the crest of the concrete monolith dividing one nightmare from another. But it was enough to set the stone ablaze, to paint a large patch of the sky in a shining gold. The warmth of Her Sun couldn’t reach me, but I felt it anyway. I always would.

“Beautiful,” I whispered.

Delight wasn’t looking at the dawn. She was looking at me, in a wonder and slight envy.

I was no longer looking at the dawn. I wasn’t looking at Clandestine Delight, either.

I was looking at the dirty filly with a metal leg who was glancing around nervously.

That filly was alone.

A feeling of immense relief, probably the strongest I ever felt in my life was coursing through my figurative veins as I rushed to Tin Flower like she was going to disappear into thin air if I didn’t grab her and hold tight.

Either she was too distracted or I moved so fast, but the filly noticed me only when I all but crashed into her. Tin Flower gave a frightened yelp, drawing the attention of nearest ponies, but soon it was replaced by muffled choking sounds as I hugged her. Fortunately I caught myself before it could become accompanied by a crackling of crushed ribs as well.

“A friend, eh?” chuckled Delight, who caught up while I was smothering Tin Flower. Was it just me or, despite the smile on her face, was her eye filled with envy and sorrow?

Tin Flower escaped my tight embrace and sat in front of me, giving me a critical look. I glanced over her as well and was glad to conclude that she didn’t look injured, just dirtier which was a notable feat considering how grimy she was the last time I saw her. Though, it was apparent that the filly was suffering from a severe lack of sleep: I could see bags under her eyes even though they had pitch black hair around them.

“We haven’t seen each other for a day and you’ve already got some shitty upgrades and broken half of what I installed,” Flower finally said with a barely contained smile, mirth dancing in her tired eyes.

But I was dead serious.

“Flower, where is Wire?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. Tin Flower wouldn’t act so casually and joke around if something very bad had happened to her friend. But Wire wasn’t here anyway, and I was concerned.

“Oh, she didn’t make it,” Flower replied nonchalantly.

I froze in place, and though I could see it only in the corner of my eye, Delight became paralyzed as well. It took a few moments for Tin Flower to realize what she just said and her eyes widened.

“No, no, no! That’s not what I meant!” The little filly tried to explain, frantically waving her hooves. Del loudly exhaled, but I wasn’t so fast to relax. “She is alive, but she couldn’t come with me.”

Before I could ask her any more questions, because she sure had a story to tell, Flower was shoved to the side by a large stallion. A moment later he bumped into me as well. It wasn’t a hard thrust, and the stallion didn’t even glance at me or Tin Flower. It wasn’t something personal, we just stood where we actually shouldn’t have been. We were standing not only in his way, but in the way of many others, right before the entrance.

All of us understood it perfectly and I motioned with my head to the place where Clandestine and I had waited for Tin Flower. As soon we sat down I turned to the filly, still concerned with Wire’s fate.

“Flower, what happened after I went to that tunnel? Did Mercury catch you? Is Red Wire alright?” I unleashed a barrage of not so much questions, but demands.

Tin Flower yawned widely, thought for a moment, tapping her chin, nodded to herself and began telling her story.

“After you was gone, Wire and I argued a little and we decided to follow you. Then we saw through the door Mercury who finally went completely nuts, and you running away. But we couldn’t follow, it was too hot...”

“Wait, ‘finally’?” I interrupted Flower, for I couldn’t believe my ears. “You knew she was psychotic all along?”

“Yeah, it was obvious even before she got her wings torn off.” I could see Del visibly wince by my side. “But she was always on our side.” Flower paused momentarily. “Kinda.” Noticing my and Del’s incredulous looks she explained. “I mean, half the ponies in The Edge are batty in the brain. It’s better to be friends with them.” It was my turn to wince.

“So, we knew that eventually Mercury would go after us,” unfazed, Tin Flower continued, “but not immediately, cos shit hit the fan, she wasn’t the only pony who wanted to get rid of Grime’s fat ass. Methinks she’s still dealing with Furnace #3, they planned to take control even before Orange Swine came.” She licked her lips and went on with the story. “I could go to Canterlot straight away, but Wire wasn’t going leave her folks. I mean, duh.” The filly rolled her eyes. “And that was also the perfect time for them to migrate to the other sector. Hollow Druse was pulling strings with the zebras in Nebula’s sector for a while for that to happen.”

I heard a loud commotion somewhere to the side. All three of us turned our heads simultaneously and saw some kind of a fight. Two ponies, a scrawny, bald mare and a stallion with a lot of rusty, beat-up prosthetics were fighting over a spare part. The problem was that those two tramps were quite close to us, and each push and shove they were giving each other was bringing their brawl even closer. I glanced to the sides, hoping to find a quiet place, but Delight was already at it and motined with the wing for Flower and I to follow her to a small alcove in a wall nearby, occupied with nothing but some small rubbish.

We nestled there and Tin Flower continued her tale.

“Wire’s folks didn’t have a lot of stuff, but since miss Dust is blind, I decided to lend a helping hoof, at least until we reached the border. From there I went to Canterlot and Wire stayed with her family.” When did Flower sleep last? I didn’t need any sleep, it seemed, but she was not only a pony, but a rather young one. And, needless to say, I was happy to know that Wire and her family were unharmed and relatively safe.

“Druse gave me a token, so the ID maker will help us. Though, she said there’s no point in giving any directions, that stallion doesn’t stay in one place for long, but he should be somewhere near the Thunderspire.” Tin Flower finished her story with a shrug followed by another yawn.

“Are you talking about Segfault?” Delight chipped in the conversation, speaking for the first time in a while.

“Yeah, that’s his name.” The filly nodded absentmindedly. “Do you know him? And who are you by the way?” She squinted at the pegasus mare suspiciously.

It wasn’t very good of me not to introduce them to each other, but in my defense, there wasn’t a fitting opening for that. It wasn’t too late, however.

“I met Clandestine Delight in The Tunnels.” I motioned my hoof in the pegasus mare’s direction. ”Delight.” I motioned with another at the filly, “Tin Flower.”

I never paid much attention to Rarity’s etiquette lessons until I had to take a position in the government as an Equestrian representative. To my surprise a proper introduction could do wonders.

“Nice to meet you, Flower.” Delight smiled at the filly. “And no, I don’t know Segfault personally, but I might know where to find him.”

Delight and Flower looked each other in the eyes, just a mere moment longer than it should have lasted. It was an odd look. Respect? Familiarity? Rivalry? I couldn’t tell.

“Cool!” Flower exclaimed, like nothing happened. Then she did a double take at Del’s face. “Wait, is that a Moth’s mark?” The filly’s eyes lit up. “I have so many questions to ask!”

Oh, no, you don’t! I didn’t know how much of adult things Flower already knew, but probably more than she was supposed to. I wasn’t intent on allowing Delight teach her more, especially considering how vast Del’s knowledge probably was.

And Delight was already smugly smiling. The situation could begin to spiral out of my control at any moment.

”We now have a pony to find and I am still illegal.” I said firmly putting myself between Flower and Del.

“Alright, alright, I’m not going to teach your friend the birds and the bees.” The pegasus raised her hooves in the air defensively, accompanying that motion with a roll of her eyes. Under her breath she added, “Not while you are around, at least.”

I snapped my head at her. It seemed an untimely expansion of Flower’s knowledge was inevitable. I hoped that Del would at least have the decency not to teach the filly too much.

The mellow pegasus mare shrinked slightly under my icy glare and tried to switch the conversation to another topic.

“I know a mare who owns a rathole she calls an eatery. Morsel works with Segfault, so she always knows where to find him.” Pointing with her primaries in the direction we came from, Delight added. “She owes me one, and her eatery is just on the other side of the Spire.”

“What are we waiting for?” Flower exclaimed, ignorant to my attempts to defend the vestiges of her innocence. “Let’s go!”

I glanced at Delight and she only motioned with her wing to follow. I mirrored the motion with my head to Tin Flower.

As we huddled together, I noted how Del deliberately chose to walk on my right, trusting me with her blind side. Flower, in turn, walked by my left, as if to protect my own blind side. All of us trotted at a measured pace for barely a minute before the filly spoke.

“So, Twilight, what happened to you after you went into that tunnel?” She asked. Delight gave me a curious glance as well, interested to learn what happened to me right before I met her.

I smirked. Tin Flower was going to love that story.

“...And then we waited for you and Wire to come.” I finished telling Flower about the events of my first night in Equestria.

We already passed the Spire, where we stopped for a couple of minutes to let the Edge-born filly revel in the glory of the grand contraption. During the day it was an even more peculiar sight. Its surroundings were shrouded in deep shadows cast by the dense, almost charcoal-black thunderstorm, while the top of the Spire was glowing in the rays of Her Sun so brightly that it looked like it was going to melt down.

Our company was drawing more glances than I considered comfortable, but it was only logical. A beautiful, even if a bit ragged, pegasus mare; an incredibly dirty filly; a half-demolished custom equinoid. Even with all the variety of different ponies on the streets, we still stuck out like a molting feather.

Both Del and Flower listened to my story with an acute interest. So now I was expecting questions. The filly was first to that.

“Whoah. Was you really friends with a dragon?” Flower asked looking at me with wide eyes. “Neat!”

Delight reacted to the reminder of that particular part of the night with a slight shudder. Spike inadvertently scared the wits out of her, after all.

“You… could say so,” I chuckled with a tinge of sadness.

“Damn, I shouldn’t have left you by yourself there.” Flower shook her head with a serious and even guilty expression. “Shouldn’t have let you help Mercury in the first place.” But then she brightened a little. “Though, I never heard of that tunnel before. And yeah, methinks I’ve seen Brass Litany, at nights. I even wondered back then who was stealing the best equinoid spare parts from where I left them to take later.”

I prepared to stop the filly from blaming herself, after all I had a choice, and Flower couldn’t predict how events would turn out. But Delight suddenly halted before the glass door of a small eating joint.

The glass panels in that door, and the windows by that extent, were cracked, every single of them. And where the glasswork wasn’t covered in a web of cracks it was dirty to the point where “transparent” wasn’t something that could be said about it.

Delight didn’t enter the eatery straight away. She let out a deep sigh and scowled, then closed her eyes and just as deeply breathed in. And only then she opened the door, bearing the fakest smile I ever saw.

Inside, the bistro looked absolutely disgusting. The floor was so dirty that I couldn’t tell its color. The same could be said about most of the furniture… and even the ceiling. Obviously, the concept of cleaning was absolutely alien to this place. Patrons who sat at the tables perfectly fit the filth surrounding them. Most looked like homeless ponies, and I even had serious doubts that all them were alive. They weren’t the only visitors dining in this beastliness; flies and roaches held a feast, undisturbed as if it was their right. Under tables and in corners I could see little shadows scuttling and glimpses of hairless tails reflecting the dim light of soot covered lamps. Opaque tobacco smoke hung in the air, actually obscuring sight. And the smell, Goddesses, the smell...

Behind an elevated counter, a mare sat, who seemed to be an empress of this realm of filth, or rightfully deserving to be one. She wasn’t young, or at least, didn’t appear to be a young pony. She wore a stained apron of a color that can be described only as “vomit”. Her mane was so greasy and tangled that I expected drops of fat to fall from it any moment. Her pale eyes were glued to us, or rather, Delight as soon as we came inside. I had no doubts that the epitome of unsanitariness behind the counter was none other than Morsel.

“Heeeey, Delight, haven’t seen you in ages!” She croaked in a sandpaper voice, spitting over her shoulder. “How’s the job, still giving the best wingjobs in Canterlot?”

I winced at that. Flower looked at me questioningly, tilting her head. Delight didn’t flinch, her face was a perfect mask of faux politeness.

“Ha-ha, Morsel,” she replied without a hint of humor in her voice, “does your greasy spoon still give your patrons loose bowels every time they eat here?”

A few of the said visitors, who still showed signs of life, slowed munching on the questionable contents of their bowls, but didn’t completely stop.

“Of course it does, that’s what makes it so good.” Morsel laughed, but it quickly turned into a coughing fit sending chunks of phlegm flying everywhere. “Ain’t it right, lads?” It didn’t incite any reply, nor did it stop the customers from potentially poisoning themselves. “Anyway, did you come here for a pleasant conversation or a tasty meal?”

“Thanks, but no, thanks. I’ll pass on both. How’s Segfault faring?” It was obvious that Delight would prefer to be anywhere but there. Her faked politeness and obviously a tremendous self-control were all that kept this situation from escalating into a vicious and fruitless verbal fight. I had to to thank Del later for that. “Still not dead from your cookery?” She asked in a syrupy voice.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Of course he is not. Just because one mare got sick once from my food doesn’t mean that everything I cook is rat poison.” Oh. That explained a lot. What had possessed Delight to even come here in the first place? “Why do you ask, wanna suck his cock?”

I winced again. If I had known, I would have insisted on finding any other way to locate Segfault, even if it took us ten times more time and effort.

“Isn’t that your job?” The reply came was instant and cut through the polluted air sharply.

In a moment the whole eatery froze. The only thing that moved were ponies’ eyes, all watched as Delight and Morsel were locked in a staring contest.

Delight was still smiling widely, but I could see cracks in her mask. The pegasus looked like she was going to throw up, and her right eye twitched slightly. I couldn’t blame her, the stench was unbearable, and the situation was anything but pleasant. Even Tin Flower resorted to breathing through a rag, and she was accustomed to work with Scuff Gear.

Morsel’s face was a mask of a mocking politeness before, but as she stared back at Delight, it gave a jerk and in a moment was deformed into a furious scowl.

“Segfault is at southeast 234th street, 18, and will be there until tomorrow night!” Morsel snarled at the pegasus mare. “Now get the fuck out!” she screeched. Delight didn’t need to be told that twice. The mare behind the counter continued to yell at our back as we hastily exited that disgusting place. “And don’t ever bother to come back, damn whore!”

However, before closing the door, Delight decided to have the last word.

“Bon appetit ponies, hope you have nothing planned for the next few weeks. Or the rest of your lives,” she loudly proclaimed to the patrons.

Delight had to dash out of the food joint, because her announcement was met with not only an enraged howl from Morsel but also a cooking pot thrown after her.

The saucepan smashed against the closed door, adding a few fresh cracks and painting the inside of it in what looked like a yellowish slime with dark lumps in it.

Tin Flower and I stood absolutely speechless while Delight was taking deep breaths of fresh air, fanning herself with her wings.

Finally, after a whole minute of silence, I came up with a comment.

“That was… very unlike you, Delight.”

“Twilight, after the first and last time I unknowingly ate the food from there, I was vomiting for two weeks straight,” the pegasus answered in a bitter and haunted tone.

Why wasn’t I surprised? Delight was lucky to survive, in my opinion. But at least we got what we came for, so now we could leave it all behind and never talk of that horrid place ever again. Or so I thought, because Tin Flower had other plans.

“Um, Delight, what’s a ‘wingjob’?”

None of us dropped a single word as we made our way to Segfault. Delight obviously wasn't in a very good mood, and she also had to concentrate of finding a path where we wouldn’t draw the attention of the wrong ponies. Tin Flower was yawning every few minutes. I offered her a ride on my back, but the filly declined it, explaining that she should be awake if we got in trouble. I tried to think of my plans after we make a fake ID, but my attention was diverted by preventing Flower from tripping over her hooves.

It didn’t take us long to reach Segfault’s place, or rather an apartment building where he resided. It was an average-looking, tower-like edifice with no signs telling that somewhere inside was a pony providing very specific and undoubtedly illegal services. If Segfault wasn’t an equinoid, of course.

I wondered aloud how Delight would know in which particular apartment the ID forging master was, and she explained me that he had a few hideouts. Segfault rotated between them randomly, so even if Delight knew all of them, she needed to also know in which one he was at the given moment.

We used a cramped and dirty elevator to rise to the top floors. At the end of a long, barely lit corridor was a door without a number. Not bothering to knock, Delight boldly entered the door.

We came into a dark room, illuminated only by the light coming from a large screen. In front of that screen a huge spider sat, furiously typing on a keyboard. I had to suppress a shriek. But as I stared at that creature, I realised that in fact it was a pony. And since there were nopony else besides him and us in that room, it had to be none other than Segfault.

The first thing that was impossible to miss, and that made me think he was a spider, was a dozen thin metal “arms” protruding from a hole on the back of the stallion’s clothing. Those artificial limbs had an uncanny resemblance to insects’ legs, they even moved in the same creepy way. Segfault used them to type at an incredible speed, while sitting still, staring at the numbers on the display in front of him.

After a thorough look I noticed that Segfault had wires coming out of the back of his skull and leading straight to the device with a glowing screen in front of him. Actually, it looked like several screens of a few devices put together.

In the darkness it was impossible to say what color Segfault’s mane and coat were, except that they were probably dark, not outstanding colors. The stallion didn’t appear to be very tall, but again, with the way he hunched, I couldn’t really tell. Segfault wasn’t a pegasus, that was certain, nor could I see a horn poking from his head.

Segfault seemed to either not notice us, or simply ignore us for a whole minute, while we just stood awkwardly waiting for him to pay us any attention. Finally, he sighed and turned his head to us, locks of his greasy long mane falling like a waterfall around a cracked horn on a visor in the place where his eyes should be.

“A former prostitute, a shitty custom equinoid and The Edge scum. Is this the beginning of a joke, or I am missing something?” Segfault said in a voice of pony who spoke for the first time in weeks.

Delight didn’t react in any way, but Tin Flower took a step forward.

“I’ve come for a fake ID.” She proclaimed with an indignation burning in her eyes.

Segfault sighed again and turned the rest of his body to face us.

“Do I look like somepony who does a fucking charity?” Each word was punctuated by a pause and was spoken in an annoyed and tired tone.

“I have a token from my friend’s sister,” said Tin Flower, not giving up.

“And I have a gun from my friend’s brother’s friend,” the stallion retorted in a mocking tone. “It’s magical, I’ll point it at you and you will turn 180^oand never bother me again.”

This meeting was beginning to move in the wrong direction. I took a single step towards Segfault, but before I came up with anything to say, Tin Flower protruded a metal chip from the rags serving as her clothing and threw it to the stallion.

Segfault caught it with one of his mechanical arms and moved the token close to his visor. The stump that was left of his horn sizzled like a humid firework with a few sparks and the small metal trinket glowed in response, lighting up his face and revealing a web of scars converging on where his eyes once were.

“You ain’t lying, huh,” said Segfault in voice no longer hostile. “Hollow Druse, wasn’t it? Best enchanter I ever met outside Noxiae...” His brows furrowed above a frame of the visor. “Why didn’t she come personally, though?”

“She and her family are busy at The Edge right now,” Tin Flower began to explain, “there was…”

“Yeah, yeah.” Segfault interrupted her with a wave of his hoof, “already heard about that shit.” He threw Druse’s token back to Flower. “So, you need an ID. What kind?”

That was my cue.

“One that will give me no trouble with the police.”

“Bwahaha.” Segfault guffawed, his “spider” arms rattling as his body shook from laughter. “You are funny.” He shook his head, looking at me. “There is no ID in all of Canterlot that will do that for you. You couldn’t possibly look more custom made and… when the fuck were your gems last cleared, hundred years ago?”

“Five hundred to be exact.”

Segfault gave me a long look, probably expecting one of us to crack a smile or just say it was a joke, but none of that happened.

“Aight. I’m not gonna ask you any questions,” he concluded in a careful tone with a nod and turned back to the screen. He began to type something, and after a moment his croaking voice joined the rustle of metal limbs. “I’ll forge you a universal equinoid ID, but it’s no use until you get a stock frame, model doesn’t matter. And even then any unicorn in the police is going to sense your magic noise. Keep to The Tunnels where your kind belongs and you will be as fine as you can be.”

After a minute of silence it was evident that Segfault had nothing else to say, but had work to do.

“So what are we going to do after that?” Tin Flower asked in a quiet voice. She looked like if she didn't keep talking or moving she might fall asleep.

“I’m a bit hungry,” came Delight’s reply, accompanied by a rumble of her stomach, which sounded louder than her voice. Looking slightly embarrassed, she continued, “I know a place not far away where they serve something that isn’t toxic sludge.”

“I have some mushrooms with me.” Tin Flower enthusiastically said and pulled a bundle from somewhere inside her clothing. It was squished and reeked of mold so strongly that even Segfault paused in his work and half-turned his head glancing at us with a raised eyebrow.

“Eww…” Delight instantly recoiled and took a step back from Flower as if the filly had pulled a snake from her rags.

Tin Flower merely shrugged, and the bundle disappeared in the folds of her improvised attire without a trace. Nonchalantly she commented, “Strange to hear that from somepony who was earning money by eating coc…”

The filly’s eyes widened as Delight dashed to her and mockingly tried to strangle Flower with the wings. They both smiled and giggled, prompting another look from Segfault, though it was somewhat amused.

I waited until their little feigned fight wound down.

“We need to go to library or something like that, I need to get as much information on history as possible.” I reminded Flower and Delight of my initial plan. Flower opened her mouth to say something, but was rudely interrupted.

“Name!” Barked Segfault not even turning in our direction.

“Huh?” I blinked - on the inside. I needed to ask Flower to fix my eyes as soon as possible.

“What is going to be your name, stones-for-brains?” The stallion elaborated in a harsh tone.

“Twilight Sparkle.” I said on reflex and instantly regretted it. It would be better to hide my name for now, just in case. But it seemed that it was too late to change, from a distance I saw it already being typed down.

“Really?” Segfault turned his head to glance at me. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you when equinoids laugh at that. You need something, like, I dunno, Adamant Smash.” Wait, what? “And you will find what you seek at the Royal Archives.”

I had been there before on countless occasions, they were adjacent to the Royal Library after all. Any recorded information in Equestria could be found in those ancient vaults of knowledge. But there was one problem...

“Aren’t they supposed to be in the Sky Palace?” Assuming that the tower in the centre of Canterlot was build on a place of the old palace, the Archives had to be somewhere inside it.

“Of course not! The Crown doesn’t need that old shit.” Segfault scoffed. “Southeast 56th street, a big old building.” Blindly pointing over his shoulder in our general direction he added. “Your feathered friend should know how to get there.”

It was very kind of him to just tell us that. At least now we knew where to head next. And I hoped that the modern Royal Archives were as good and complete as those from my time.

“I think we all need to go back to Wire instead,” Tin Flower suddenly said.

“But why?” Red Wire was safe as I understood and didn’t really need our help. I knew that Canterlot wasn’t going to crumble tomorrow, but I still didn’t want to waste time if it was possible. And I still needed to find out what happened to Spike. I didn’t want him to suffer a day longer.

“You won’t be able to learn history there, but the zebras in Nebula’s sector pay money for a job well done, and we can save some to buy you a new body.” That sounded reasonable to some extent. And it was true, neither Nebula nor the zebras minded equinoids. “Or, I can make one, if I get blueprints. But I can’t do it here, anyway.”

“I don’t think going to The Edge is that good an idea,” commented Delight with a sour face. “Frankly, it sucks.”

“You're a fine one to talk,” retorted Flower with a smug grin.

Delight nimbly leapt over her and encased the filly’s head in a feathery embrace of wings, tickling Flower’s muzzle. This time the pegasus held Tin Flower firmly in her forelimbs, preventing another feigned fight. That allowed Del to suggest her idea.

“I have some contacts across the city, both in The Tunnels and on the surface. I’m not eager to go back underground, but it will be faster than saving money while making drugs.” She paused for a moment, letting Flower finally escape from the feather trap. Delight didn’t smile, however. Her face grew dead serious. “And the thing is, the Archives are very close to the Inner City. Police there aren’t as lousy as on the outskirts. It’s risky to go there in your state, Twilight.”

“Delight has a fair point, though.” Flower again joined the conversation, spitting feathers. “Her option probably would be much faster. And she is totally right, it’s rather risky to walk around like that. I don’t want to lose you again. I’m not supposed to be in the city either, it’s illegal to leave The Edge.”

A sudden idea visited my mind. I turned to Segfault.

“Could you make an ID for Tin Flower too?” I asked him, hoping that this could also be a part of his favor to Hollow Druse. If anything, we could pay later.

“With the shit happening at The Edge right now?” Segfault shook his head. “No way, no use. It will get nullified the moment she tries to use it, and she will get caught.”

Flower and Clandestine looked at me expectantly. Seemed like it was up to me to decide what were we going to do next.

I carefully began to consider both ideas. I needed two things: a new body and knowledge. Both were crucial for my survival in Canterlot and ultimately, our escape from it. Though, I had to discuss it with Del and Flower first. Also, with Wire and her family. But even if they would reject that idea, nothing changed.

I needed a new body to stop looking like a violation of the law. But more importantly I needed a new body that wouldn’t be falling apart everytime I did something more physically straining than just a fast trot. Tin Flower had done a great job. An impossible job. But her resources were severely limited. Brass Litany’s help was appreciated as well, but it didn’t fix the problem. And there was no way to easily solve said problem.

Tin Flower’s idea might take months, if not longer. Nor was the idea of making drugs appealing to me. Delight’s idea, on the other hoof, could bear fruits much faster, but it was dangerous and not guaranteed to actually make my situation better.

And there was the option of going straight to the Archives. It was risky, it was unreliable and most probably it was unproductive. However, if I succeed in finding the information I needed, I could possibly find help by myself. Canterlot had changed, five centuries had passed, but there ought to be ponies for whom my name still bore any significance. I had to be honest with myself, it didn’t sound like the most intelligent decision. But there was one thing that was tilting the scales in its favor.

Spike was somewhere underground and he was in pain.

Author's Notes:
Alrighty, my faithful readers, here goes the 6th chapter of the story. Some say it is a bit boring, but I wanted to focus a bit on world-building again and give a moment of respite for Twilight. You may say it's a moment of calm before the storm.
Also, I've almost finished the next chapter and got some other stories going. Got even an idea for a new side story – "The Black Tales of White Winter", but I'm not going to focus on it until I finish this story arc and the previously planned side story.
As usual, I appreciate any feedback, and if you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know.
I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.
Gekasso made a special blog for the illustrations:
https://aftersoundproject.tumblr.com/
It is not dead. Well, maybe a teensy bit.
Aftersound Project Discord server - it is almost empty. If you don't feel like joining another of countless servers, poke me at least. New friends are always a welcome thing.

Chapter 7 – The Walking Tombstone

Aftersound

=================================

Written by:

Flutterfinar & Geka

Preread and edited by:

mikemeiers, IAmApe, Jay Tarrant

Cover art done by:

=================================

The Walking Tombstone

====================

We walked through the streets of Canterlot once again. And by “we” I mean Delight and myself. After a couple of city blocks it became apparent that Flower had almost no strength left in her. The filly stumbled every other step and even fell a few times, tripping on the uneven pavement. Grumbling, she finally agreed to climb on my back and almost instantly fell asleep.

Underneath the rusty and bent plates on my chest, in a little compartment, the ID from Segfault was now keeping the company of the token Brass Litany so generously given to me. Actually, I had almost forgotten about that little gift and was surprised that I had managed not to lose it during my recent misadventures. I didn’t mention it when I was telling my story to Flower, so it surprised both of my friends. Flower didn’t have much to say about it, for she knew almost nothing about the Church of the Machine Goddess. Delight, however, advised me to use it only when all other options had been exhausted, including “each and every other fucking crazy cult in those forsaken Deep Tunnels.” So now, I had a metal card encrusted with crystal panels and my equinoid ID in my possession. I now only needed to get a new body – a piece of cake!

Surprisingly, neither Flower nor Delight objected to my idea of going straight to the Archives. They didn’t even ask my reasoning behind that decision. However, Del demanded that we all take a detour and swing by a normal eatery because she was starving. Flower readily joined that call.

As stated by Delight, the city wasn’t homogenous in its quality of life. As we were slowly nearing the border with the central areas – the Inner City – the scenery began to gradually change.

The sky wasn’t obscured by countless advertisement signs and entwinements of wires anymore – gloomy skyscrapers loomed above us instead, hiding the firmament from view. The streets looked cleaner, less littered, almost decent. They didn’t smell that bad anymore. Rust – the ever present plight of the metal city – was ceding to chrome, albeit not completely. Delicate combinations of plastic and glass began to appear, replacing sturdy structures of steel and concrete.

The crowd filling the streets changed too. No more did the ponies try to outshine each other with their bizarre looks. And that was all, just ponies. Zebras, griffins, equinoids… they were becoming a very rare sight. Though they still looked somewhat wild in terms of fashion, the mass of ponies looked more or less uniform. Garish outfits gave way to suits, most of them resembling something that I would call business attire. A bit different from what I remembered, but such clothes were still discernible.

It was becoming closer to what I expected a city in the future to look like. However, it was still very far from perfection. And I knew if I were to turn back and go to the tall wall encasing Canterlot, beyond it I would witness the price paid by ponies to make the inner districts shine and glimmer.

Delight slowed down a bit and we came alongside of each other. She used her wing to adjust the cloth tatters hiding my mechanical body from sight.

“Are you sure this is a good decision?” Del warily glanced at me. “Is it worth the risk?”

I took some time to answer. The deeper we went into the city, the more I was realizing how starkly I was standing out. And we were avoiding large streets and using back alleys.

I had no concrete plan for myself and the little company I had already managed to gather around me. At the moment, getting to Stalliongrad was the final goal, the only reasonable option available. But it was concerningly vague. Before settling on it, I needed to know if there was any other choice. And for that, I needed to know more. Even if it was indeed the only way, I wasn’t going to leave the city without Spike. Again, I needed to know what happened to him in the first place.

“Yes.” Realizing that it came a bit too curt and harsh, I added, “It will be worth it, I’m sure of it. Don’t worry.”

Delight said nothing and gave me a long look. In the end she nodded. I couldn’t tell if she was nodding to me or herself.

Del and I resumed trotting through the narrow back streets of Canterlot in silence. I could feel Flower fidgeting and squirming slightly on my back. It was obvious that the filly wasn’t really comfortable taking a nap on my metal ridged back. Why she chose me instead of a cradle between Delight’s soft feathery wings was a mystery.

We suddenly took a few sharp turns and ended up in a dead end. The place was a little island of the outer districts’ dirtiness and decadence hidden inside the labyrinth of dark towers not so far from Canterlot’s gleaming heart.

Only three entrances led to the blind alley. Well, four, if one counted the slightly ajar trapdoor in the middle of it. It had a brick lodged between the pavement and the hatch itself to keep it open, though nopony could be seen around. On the right side, a warm light was coming from the windows of a small eating joint. It clashed with the cold blue glow cast by the neon signs of a repair shop right next to it. The third doorway, the one on the left side, was completely dark and served as the entrance to a building which seemed to be a simple apartment complex. However, there was something sinister about it. None of its windows had panes of glass in them, only a few forlorn shards here and there, like jagged fangs in a gaping maw. Those empty mouths appeared not just dark, but as if they actively sucked in any light.

Keeping to the opposite side from the shady building, we came to the glass door leading inside the eatery. Its name, “Black Shawarma,” was a simple, not animated, yet occasionally flickering neon sign made in ornate letters to resemble exotic Saddle Arabian writing.

Before we entered Delight extended her wing and used her primary to tickle Tin Flower’s nose. The filly loudly sneezed and woke up, almost falling from my back as a result. Glaring at Del, she yawned widely.

“Are we at the Archives already?” Flower grumbled and glanced around sceptically.

“Not yet, we came to a place where we can grab a meal,” explained Delight before she pushed the door.

“Do they have mildew?” Tin Flower asked with another yawn. I realized that I couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not.

“Better.”

“Black Shawarma” was quite a normal place, well, in terms of sanitary conditions at least. Small, with only a couple of tables, but cozy. The metal furniture was rather worn, polished by the countless hooves of past patrons and covered in nicks and scratches, but it was clean.

As we came in, Delight wasted no time and approached a stallion behind a counter, and presumably made an order, because he immediately turned his attention to the stove. While the cook was busy preparing the order, Del quitely conversed with him; Flower and I took a seat at one of two available tables. The other table was taken by some elderly grey-maned mare, who was napping with her face in an empty plate and one hoof grasping a half-empty plastic cup of some drink, a dark brown, almost black liquid – probably coffee.

I couldn’t discern the quiet chat Del was having with the cook, but it didn’t seem to be very lively, just an exchange of a few phrases every so often. Speaking of him, the cook’s appearance was very unusual. At first glance he might appear to be just a unicorn stallion, albeit of very large stature, but as I tried to study him without outright staring, I saw what drew my attention.

A short body, lanky legs, high-set tail, long narrow muzzle and a horn of impressive length. Those weren’t unusual features for ponies, especially unicorns. However, being so pronounced and combined with an exceptional height, they pointed to the not-so-Equestrian roots of this stallion. It was Saddle Arabian blood showing itself. Which in turn explained the existence of such an exotic place in the city. A family business, most probably, with him being not only a cook but also the owner. I couldn’t say that back in my time Equestria’s borders were closed for any visitors, but it seemed that despite the cruel reality of Canterlot, it had become a refuge for more guests from the distant lands than ever before. Briefly, I wondered what became of Neighponia, Saddle Arabia, Zebrica and other ungulates’ countries, especially considering how much Equestria had changed.

As I mused, the stallion in question finished preparing four portions of shawarma but, before giving them to Delight he pointed a small device at the top of her neck. In the ray of greenish pale light emanated by that device, a row of lines of different thickness with numbers under them showed itself right on Delight’s skin. I was pretty sure it wasn’t there before, so it was probably made up of some kind of fluorescent ink. Was it another mark, something like the Moth mark on her cheek? Apparently, cutie marks weren’t sufficient anymore. I didn’t know that to think of it, honestly.

The device blinked, made a beeping sound and was promptly retracted back under the counter. The pegasus stretched her wing to grab the plates, but was again stopped by the stallion. She asked him something and in answer the cook looked directly at me and nodded questioningly in my direction. Realizing that my presence might be an issue, I cast my eyes down. As I had already learned, my facial expressions were rather limited and overall I probably didn’t look very friendly, especially after the recent fight, so I didn’t want to risk giving him the wrong impression. Still, I kept giving them occasional careful glances.

As before, I didn’t hear what they said to each other. But, after a long and wary look, the stallion finally let Delight return to the table and resumed his activities at the cooking station. Delight’s facial expression was neutral, even somewhat happy as she walked to our table, and I decided not to ask anything about that little hiccup.

A tray with two plates, two portions of shawarma on each, and two glasses of hot tea. I glanced across it at Tin Flower, who had dozed off, lulled to sleep by the dim light, warmth and quiet murmur of pots.

Delight gently poked her shoulder with the tip of her hoof.

“What’s that?” mumbled Flower, studying the contents of the plates with half-lidded eyes.

Shawarma, shaurma, doner, gyros… almost every nation had their own name for that kind of food. But in essence, it was the same everywhere. Falafel balls (or sliced meat in the case of griffins and other carnivores) wrapped in a flatbread together with some diced vegetables and garnished with a sauce. The ingredients might vary widely, but the formula had remained the same for centuries. I, myself, never had a chance to taste it, though I did see shawarma being sold on the streets of Manehattan and Fillydelphia amongst other street food.

Delight’s answer, however, was much more eloquent and spared Flower the extensive lecture.

“It’s shawarma.” With those words she took one of the rolls and dug in.

“That doesn’t explain anything,” Tin Flower complained, eyeing her portion with uncertainty.

For a moment I had trouble understanding Flower’s reluctance, but then I remembered that the poor filly spent her entire life at the Edge and considered mold tasty food. I had no idea what food rations consisted of or if Flower even got them.

Finally, she carefully took one of the roasted rolls in her non-metal hoof and sniffed at it. The filly showed no reaction, but tentatively took a small bite and chewed on it. Almost instantly, Flower’s eyes widened, and she all but tried to shove the entire portion in her mouth.

“Wow, you impress even me,” commented Delight with a full mouth, chuckling, a cucumber slice falling on the table along with a few drops of sauce.

That remark fell on deaf ears as Flower continued to greedily gorge on her meal, tears of happiness streaming down her cheeks. The smile fell off Del’s face upon seeing that display.

“You Edge kids have it hard, don’t you?” Delight quietly said.

As a being of metal, I had no ability to join them in their little feast and the only option I had was to forlornly watch my newfound friends sate their hunger.

Despite Delight starting to eat her portion earlier and having the advantage of being an adult pony, she and Tin Flower finished at the same time.

“Thank you so much, Delight,” said Flower, wiping the sauce and crumbs off her muzzle. “That was the tastiest thing I’ve eaten in my life.”

“Don’t sweat it.” Delight waved her hoof in answer and sipped on the still steaming tea. Flower soon joined her in enjoying their hot drinks.

For a while we sat in silence, resting from the extensive journey through the city.

“So, after we get your dragon, we are going to Stalliongrad, right?” said Flower out of nowhere, after another sip. I just stared at her in utter disbelief. How did she know? I glanced at Delight, but she only shrugged. Apparently, Flower noticed my confusion.

“Come on, Twilight, I spent years with Scuff Gear. He talks about only two things: how shiny and round the Magician’s ass was and how good it would be for all of us to get to Stalliongrad. No way he didn’t say a single word about both,” she explained with a roll of her eyes.

“Well… he did tell me about it,” I replied, “and it seems to me like a sensible option, considering everything I’ve learned and seen so far.” I intended to postpone this talk with Flower until I learned even more in the Archives, of course. “What do you think?’

“Yup, it sucks here. But…” Flower chewed on her lip, “Scuffy always told me to go there, though he never said how or even where exactly Stalliongrad is…”

“I agree,” Delight joined the conversation. “As much as I’d like to go on that journey, it won’t be easy by any means. With you,” -she pointed at me with her wingtip- “the Former One, we have a chance, I think. But our problems begin with the simple fact that nopony knows where Stalliongrad is, except that it is in the far north.”

“We can check the location in the Archives, I don’t see much of a problem,” I retorted.

“Twilight, there is not a single map with Stalliongrad on it in Canterlot,” came the explanation from Delight.

Oh. Well, that explains some things. Anyway, I checked my memory and with relief discovered that I still remembered most of the geography I once had learned.

“I can point it out on the map, if I get one.” More or less. “Not the most exact location, but I won’t miss completely.”

“Huh, that is why we can make it with you.” Del broke into a smile.

So what were the other problems?

“What else? Food and supplies, right?”

“That, too, yes.” Del nodded approvingly. “We will need to get food rations, and a lot of them. It won’t be easy because their distribution is controlled by The Crown. But that is the least of our problems.”

It was Flower’s turn to speak. “There are two big issues. First, we can’t just simply walk out of the city. We will have to go through the north Edge sectors, which is difficult by itself. The biggest problem, though, is the Toxic Dump. It is much bigger and… err, more toxic than in my sector. I’m not sure Wire’s protective gear will be enough.”

“And even if we manage that, we will have to wade through a lot of snow.” Delight readily gathered up the thread, adding her knowledge. “Those who failed to get to Stalliongrad but made it back alive say that about a hundred kilometers to the north a permafrost starts, with deep snow lying around even in summer. Speaking of which, we better not leave the city in winter, obviously.”

Before I could ask what season it was now, Flower spoke again.

“Also, it’s just the three of us right now, but I’m not going anywhere without Wire, and she is sure not going to leave her folks behind,” she said, with her gaze stalwart. “Not to mention your dragon.”

So, we were talking about getting enough food and gear for a full-blown expedition of… how many was it? One falling apart equinoid, two fillies and three mares. And a fully-grown dragon. That sounded like quite a predicament, considering that I had zero currency.

“It is all solvable,” I said instead. It did sound like a huge task, but it didn’t mean it was impossible to complete. “I mean, that stallion over there,” I pointed at the cook, “he has food – vegetables and such. He got them somewhere, didn’t he?”

“TCE sells a surplus of goods sometimes and there is always the black market,” answered Delight after a few moments of deep thinking. “The stripes import a lot of stuff, like, I dunno, garlic. TCE doesn’t grow it.”

“And we don’t have to go straight north, actually,” I continued. “Stalliongrad is located on the shore of Luna Bay – it’s north-west. So if we go straight west to the North Luna Ocean and then follow the shoreline by either boat or hoof, we will end up there eventually.” It was a better plan than either crossing Galloping Gorge and the Unicorn Range or blindly going north and then turning westward trying to go around them.

But my idea was instantly objected by Del.

“No way, the most western sector is the police HQ and the isoblock prison.” She shook her head vigorously with Flower following suit.

“We can always go through the Shitters further south,” the filly suggested nonchalantly.

“Ugh, thanks but no.” Delight made a face with Flower rolling her eyes to that.

“It’s not like we have much of a choice, we have no chance making it through the heavy industry sector and its toxic waste. The west Edge is all like that,” she finished, emphasizing her words with the tapping of her metal hoof. “Alone, maybe, but not together.”

“And we are going to have a blind pony amongst us,” I added, suddenly remembering that fact about Wire’s mother.

“Don’t underestimate Ms. Dust, she can see using her magic, so she won’t be as much of a burden as you think. Hollow Druse is very capable, we will be much better off with her.” Flower countered my concerns. “We just need to get them all out of the Edge and we are going to need more supplies, that’s all.”

The Arcane Sight, huh? That’s something I hadn’t heard about in a while. Though, that wasn’t what drew my attention, but the mention of needing to get Wire’s family out of the Canterlot outskirts as an additional step.

“The main problem I see,” Del said, finishing her tea, “is the rampaging dragon you need to deal with, Twilight. Do you have any ideas?”

“Not yet.” I sadly shook my head. “But I’m sure I will find something in the Archives.”

“Let’s move on then.”

We left “Black Shawarma” and once again began to trot through the backstreets of Canterlot. Flower and I followed Delight as she hurriedly navigated the depths of the city, the filly on her own hooves this time. The further we went, the more clean and prim our surroundings looked, and we stood out more noticeably, like an eyesore.

Eventually, after what felt like hours, we came to a narrow, dark and dirty backstreet. It was a dead-end passage formed by the backs of tower-like buildings, looming over us. The only light was coming from the distant sky, and as I looked up, I felt as if I was at the bottom of a deep well, with its walls made of glass, steel and concrete. The amount of litter strewn everywhere was giving the impression that the back alley was never properly cleaned up – the garbage cans standing guard near every backdoor were more or less empty, but the trash around them seemed to be ignored. That refuse had become a home for rats, who held a feast inside the rotting mounds. The only good thing about that street was the complete lack of anypony in sight.

“We should be close,” Del said, looking around, searching for number plates on the buildings. “Though I’ve never been to this part of Canterlot, if we came to the right address the Archives should be here.”

“Wait… Is that the building we need?” Flower suddenly exclaimed, pointing her metal hoof at the one near the end of the alley.

“Yea…” Delight nodded after some thoughtful looking at it. “How did you know?”

“I’ve seen it before,” the filly explained and then added, turning to me “it’s where I found your crystals.”

Upon hearing that I felt uneasy. Something wasn’t quite right, I just couldn’t put my hoof on it. Nevertheless, we proceeded closer to what was supposed be the Royal Archives.

Back in my days it was a stately ancient building, a part of the royal palace complex, existing in conjunction with the Royal Library. All recorded information in the history of Equestria could be found there. And such a great vault looked like a worthy place for all the knowledge of countless generations.

What I was looking at now was nothing short of miserable. Low and bulky, only about five stories high, the modern cradle of information was giving the impression of a small warehouse. Nestled betwixt two black skyscrapers, it looked as if it was squashed by their rears, however it seemed to face the backstreet unlike its neighbors. Its facade was one step away from crumbling – a weblike mosaic formed by countless cracks was disrupted in many places by fallen plaster. There were no signs or anything else adorning the falling apart walls, with the exception of the building and street numbers on the rusted plate on the corner. The windows were dark, but not completely so – in some a faint bluish glow could be seen, somewhere deep inside. Those forlorn archives, hidden deep in the recesses not far from the border with the gleaming Inner City, no longer appeared to me as a destination to crave for. As I looked at it, the flame of my hope was giving way to doubt.

Even Delight and Flower seemed to be disappointed, yet it was the mellow pegasus who took the first steps towards the entrance.

“Let’s go. The sooner we get out of this part of the city, the better,” Delight said, motioning for us to follow with her wing.

I followed Del through the door, noting that it wasn’t made of wood, but metal, slightly corroded with time. A sonorous protest of rusty hinges was the only sound greeting us as we entered the empty room. It was supposed to be a reception, I think, though neither the guard post, nor large tall table, had anypony sitting behind them. A lone blinking gas lamp was spilling its pale, slightly cyan light on the dust covering the floor and furniture. That place looked desolate and eerie, as if abandoned, which was only fueling my growing sense of unease.

I glanced at Flower and Delight – they answered me with silent concerned looks, mirroring my feelings. We gathered closer and proceeded further, to the only other door in that room.

It wasn’t as squeaky, but maybe I just didn’t notice, for my attention was completely diverted to the contents of the room. That door led directly to what could be nothing but the Archives themselves.

Before me I beheld a vast chamber, so large that I could see neither the walls, nor the ceiling. That, however, was not only because of the sheer size of the hall; but also because there were no lamps whatsoever. The deep blackness was weakly disrupted by blue blinking lights of some large box-like machines, faintly rustling with their insides. Those lights were reflected by countless crystals residing on the shelves of many stacks surrounding those mysterious contraptions.

Not a single pony came to meet us; these Archives were silent as a tomb, with the exception of the murmur and whispers of the blinking boxes. I began to really doubt this was the actual Archives – not a single book or scroll was in sight.

Stifling an urge to turn back and go as far away as possible from this creepy place, I took a tentative step forward. Amidst the labyrinth of shelves and machines I could see an opening somewhere in the middle of the room, lit by an actual light. I didn’t know what I was expecting to find there, but it felt like a start. As I moved, I felt Flower pressing into my side. Delight was close as well – her feathers brushing my other side.

Finally, we made it to that clearing. It was just a circular place free of anything besides a box filled with rectangular crystal plates. A blue lantern on the top of the box emanated cold lifeless light; my memory told me that if I weren’t made from metal it would be painful to look at. I glanced at the contents of the box once again, wondering what purpose those plates served, when a sudden realization hit me.

During the war we had already begun to use crystals to store information. My current existence was the perfect example of how effectively it could work. I turned around and took in my surroundings once more. Hundreds of tall shelves filled with crystal plates, and who knew how many more of them were submerged in the darkness. Even if only half of those crystals had any information in them, by the standards of my time, that vault would have more information than ten Royal Libraries.

“Welcome to the Royal Archives!” A voice came from the darkness behind me. It was familiar, painfully so, and sounded so wrong and so right at the same time.

I turned around to greet the voice owner, but all I saw were a pair of glowing eyes approaching from the shadows. A few moments later a figure emerged into the circle of light and I felt like the world had begun to crumble into nothingness.

Purple paint peeling from tarnished metal plates. Old-looking metal bangs of the mane, colored in indigo with a streak of magenta embracing a horn on the forehead. Sharp and delicate features of a young unicorn mare. Deep violet eyes.

“Good afternoon. My name is Twilight Sparkle. How can I help you?”

With my mind absolutely blank I stared back at myse… no. There couldn’t be two “myselfs”, that wasn’t how the world worked.

There was Twilight Sparkle, a pony who transcended death through science and magic and freed herself from the coils of mortal flesh.

And then there was me, an echo, an incomplete imprint of magic, pretending to be an entity.

I gazed back at Twilight Sparkle and she just looked back, smiling calmly, serenely… obliviously… lifelessly.

Then I started to realize something.

It is thought to be impossible to transfer a pony mind into a cybernetic body without them losing nearly all their memories and emotions. Red Wire’s words echoed in my mind, followed by those of Scuff Gear. Heard even about you – Twilight Sparkle, one the greatest heroes and scientists, who met a miserable and cruel end.

“Alright. If you need any assistance, I will be nearby,” Twilight said in an emotionless dull voice, a grotesque imitation of the one she once had. Without using magic she hauled the box on her back, in mechanical rigid motions, and left, dissolving into the shadows she had come from, not caring to take the lantern.

I just stood still, gazing at the silhouette moving in the darkness, trying to understand at who… or what I was looking.

“Did you know her?” came an unfamiliar voice from my side. I swung around to confront the other dweller of the Archives and my eyes met an equinoid who was leaning on the one of those large box-machines.

Their frame looked… strange. It wasn’t completely featureless like the one from the Tunnels, but it didn’t look feminine or masculine either. Rather… not entirely equine, its differences so subtle that I couldn't even point them out. As if this model wasn’t made by ponies or even equinoids. I felt like I had seen something like it before, but I just couldn’t remember where. However, their slightly buzzing voice sounded more male than anything else, so I decided to settle on that at least.

“We rarely have equinoids visiting us here, and none have ever reacted like that. Nor did any ponies for that matter,” he continued, not waiting for me to answer. “Anyway, as she said, welcome to the Royal Archives. Feel free to access the terminals” -the equinoid motioned with his hoof at the glowing screen on the side of one of the smaller box-machines- “but please do remember that this place is protected by The Crown.”

My mind was still in disarray, but I needed to focus. I might be an incomplete, imperfect reflection, but Spike was real. And so were Tin Flower, Red Wire and Clandestine Delight. I either needed to talk to Twilight and convince her to help me (if she, hopefully, had any memories) or continue on my own. Not for myself, whatever I was, but for them.

The equinoid patiently waited for my reaction. I turned my head to my sides – Del and Flower were there, confused and puzzled to various degrees, maybe even a bit perturbed, but silent and at attention. I turned back to the equinoid.

Alright, I needed to start somewhere. I really wished at that moment I could take a deep breath.

“What happened to her?” I asked the equinoid, glancing over my shoulder. In the darkness, a shape moved like a puppet and the soft clicks of gems clanking against each other could be heard.

“So, you do know she wasn’t an equinoid once,” the equinoid said and hemmed. “Twilight Sparkle was the first ever pony to attempt a transference and to subsequently discover the Transference Paradox.” In the corner of my eye I saw Flower scrunch her nose and try to mouth the word “subsequently”. “She lost all her memories and most of her sentience. However, The Crown decided to keep her online in case they returned one day.”

“Did they?” I asked, hoping that not all the knowledge she had was lost beyond recall.

“No. But at least she is good with helping me run the Archives.” He shrugged, trying to look nonchalantly, but it was obvious he was quite interested in me. I guess, he really wasn’t getting many visitors. “I’m the head Archivarius here, by the way. Or the only Archivarius for that matter.”

“May I talk to her?” I asked him another question, glancing over my shoulder, but Twilight was already gone.

“Sure.” He shrugged again. “But I told you, she doesn’t remember a thing.”

I swung my head around trying to locate Twilight. Eventually I heard the clop of metal hooves against the floor somewhere in the shadows betwixt tall shelves. I took a step towards it, but was stopped by a snowy white wing.

“Twilight, are you alright?” Delight asked me, with a very concerned expression. Over her shoulder I could see Flower, who looked just as nervous and in addition, conflicted.

I was not. I was acutely feeling my unliving rusty body on a psychological level, how wrong my existence was, especially in the presence of the real Twilight Sparkle. But I couldn’t let myself fall victim to that again. There were others depending on me this time.

“I’m not sure.”

“We can turn and just leave.” She looked at me with almost pleading eyes. “And if you need information we can get in touch with some of the other Former Ones.”

“No, I need to do this,” I retorted and prepared to leave, but was stopped by Tin Flower, who stepped right in front of me, her eyes glued to the floor.

“Twilight,” she quietly said, biting her lip, “I’m sorry.” She raised her eyes to look at me and I saw moisture glistening in them.

“For what?” Flower took me by surprise, but deep inside I knew what this all was about. She was starting to realize the full scale of what she had done by accidentally creating me.

“I don’t know, but I feel like I did something wrong.”

Did she? Tin Flower inadvertently brought back to semi-life part of the memories of a pony once known as Twilight Sparkle. If I forget for a moment the fact that she broke the law (which didn’t sound very reasonable to me in first place), I wouldn’t say that it was a very wrong thing to do. A very strange thing, admittedly, but not necessarily wrong. After all, if that hadn’t happened, Delight might not have made it out of the Tunnels alive. And Twilight obviously didn’t know about Spike.

“You did nothing wrong, Flower.” I placated the distraught filly and gave her a comforting hug to reinforce my words. “Nothing at all.”

I wished that moment lasted longer, but I had to talk with Twilight. It had become an issue affecting not only me. So I broke the hug, smoothed Flower’s mane (or rather, tried to) and stepped into the shadows listening for any sounds of activity. I should have taken a lantern with me, in retrospect, but I totally forgot about it in the spur of the moment. Anyway, it didn’t take me very long to find Twilight.

Despite me being just a few hooflengths from her, she paid me no attention. Instead, Twilight was focused on the semi-transparent crystal plates she was carrying around in the box. She was taking them out, studying them for a few moments and then putting them on the shelves. Her motions were a bit jerky, like those of a toy in the magic hold of an inexperienced puppeteer. She was far more than just a step behind all the equinoids I had met so far. One more thing I noted: her horn didn’t light up, not even once. She wasn’t the Element of magic, not anymore.

“Twilight Sparkle?” I called, unable to watch any longer the mockery of life that she was.

“Yes. How can I help you?” She instantly stopped mid-movement and turned to me, beaming with a rigid hollow smile.

I could ask her so many questions, but there were only a few that actually mattered.

“Do you remember your friends?” I inquired and prepared for the blow.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I never had any friends,” Twilight answered readily and without a pause, her voice as oblivious as it could be. I was expecting that, but it still hurt to hear.

“Do you remember Spike?” He was still alive, that I knew, and maybe she did too. Maybe he was even right underneath us at this very moment, preying upon the Tunnel dwellers or tearing himself apart in blind madness.

“A spike of what?” she tilted her head in an uncanny attempt to mimic confusion. “We had a series of lag spikes in connection with the Sky Palace mainframe recently, but I can assure you that the problem was fixed.”

Friends defined who Twilight Sparkle was; memories of them were at the core of her personality. Spike was her family. But there was one more memory, no less important, burned into her mind like an image of the Sun.

“Do you remember Her?”

“I’m sorry, but you need to specify your request,” came an answer, quite a fair one, I guess.

“Do you remember Princess Celestia?” I asked with hope in my voice, looking right into her eyes, tentative yet empty.

And for a moment she paused, making my virtual heart skip a beat. Maybe not everything was lost? Maybe I could bring her memories back with the crystals inside me in the same way it worked for me? Was this my purpose?

Her eyes twitched for a moment, so imperceptibly that I might as well have imagined it.

“No,” she finally said after what felt like an eternity. “No, I do not.” That phrase was built a bit differently from her usual dry reporting fashion, and I thought it was said in a different intonation, one with life behind it. But then I realized that I was just fooling myself.

Once again, Wire's words resurfaced in my mind.

Memories define who we are. If you have the memories of a pony named Twilight Sparkle, you are Twilight Sparkle, like it or not.

I had to face it – I was all that was left of Twilight Sparkle. It was confusing, it was scary, it was wrong. I could no longer deny that it was me who now had to deal with this strange new world. I knew nothing about it, and I didn’t know even what I was supposed to do with it or if it was my place to do anything about disharmony and injustice anymore. I only wished I had my friends with me. Well, my “old” friends. Speaking of which, one of them was the reason why I came here in the first place. As if reading my thoughts, “Twilight” spoke once again.

“It appears that I don’t possess any information you need. Would you like to access the Royal Archives database?”

It didn’t take me much time to learn how to use the terminals in the Archives. Reading from a glass screen was a bit strange, and the keyboard’s keys were a bit too small for my crude and uncooperative hooves, but overall it was incredibly convenient. All I needed was just to type my inquiry and watch the machine find the entry kept in some remote vault – “the server”; if it was absent, the number of the crystal plate containing the information would be shown to me instead. In such cases “Twilight” would venture into the depths of the Archives and dutifully come back with a gleaming record in a sadly similar automated fashion.

Since I still had doubts about the blank state of this robotic Twilight’s memory, the so called Transference Paradox was the first thing I decided to check. To my disappointment, I didn’t learn anything conceptually new.

“Any attempts in transferring a pony consciousness always conclude with the subject losing 100% of memories, magical abilities and most sentience in the process. Replacing limbs and organs with inorganic counterparts leads to a gradual loss of magical abilities first and eventual loss of memory up to complete amnesia, depending on the ratio of organic parts to inorganic with correlation numbers applied to different organs. See the table of coefficients below…”

But what was causing it? How to avoid it? Was there a way to recover any of the lost memories? No answer, not even a single theory. Scientifically, it just happens, even though there is no evident reason for it to occur. It was as if the Paradox was discovered yesterday by a group of aspirants and not five hundreds years ago by experienced researchers. Or maybe just nopony cared enough to study it, which sounded like a very plausible reason in the modern world. I mean, they still use Maretin furnaces, what did I expect?

Unfortunately, very unfortunately, it was a recurring theme for most things I searched. A lot of information without substance, barely any actual knowledge with almost no details.

The Great War? It took place and was won by Equestria. The only thing I learned was that it apparently lasted approximately one more year after that accident with Rainbow Dash and I. But how was it won? No answer. Instead, the entry contained an excessive collection of documents, like casualties records, logistic reports and other examples of unnecessary bureaucracy.

The Crown? It was formed in place of the temporary government, at some point during the war. But I couldn’t even find a date when it took place, because the entire entry was a mess of countless governmental statements, manifests and acts.

I could understand why two fillies from the industry zone had never heard of a group of heroes from five centuries ago, but I couldn’t see any reason why the Bearers of the Elements of Harmony were almost absent from the Archives. Some of my friends were mentioned very briefly, but not as the Bearers. The Elements themselves were never mentioned anywhere. There weren’t any entries about Nightmare Moon or Discord, either. That was very concerning.

So. Applejack and her family were mentioned as founders of the Transcontinental Company of Equestria, no dates, no details. Not even the names of Big Macintosh, Applebloom, or Granny Smith. Nothing about what happened to her after that. Just a single mention, only once.

Rarity was mentioned as one of first members of The Crown, and apparently she lived to a ripe age, but again, no further details. What was her role in that new government? Did she have any children? And what about Sweetie Belle? Nothing.

Me after the accident? I was a researcher after the war ended and made some great contributions to the development of an artificial intelligence. How that story ended I knew already. Nothing else.

Spike, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie might as well have never existed in history. Not a single mention anywhere.

Speaking of which, the history of Equestria after the war was extremely vague. It consisted of the same bureaucratic literary garbage. Even if it contained any useful information, it was lost to me in the paragraph-long obscure formulations. I skimmed through it, because I had no time to meticulously study half a millennium full of events. Nothing caught my eye, and of course it all wasn’t explaining in the slightest how a land of vast green pastures and benevolence had turned into a semi-frozen technological nightmare on the brink of total collapse.

And then I typed what I probably should have done first, but feared too much to learn. The Princesses.

Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, who was also known as the Princess of Love, died during the Great War, fighting for Equestria on a battlefield. For a moment I sat in silence, honoring my babysitter, sister-in-law and, most importantly, great friend. In the end, she managed to escape from captivity only to find herself thrown into the crucible of war. It was not a fate she deserved, but something was telling me that it might very well be the reason why Equestria won the war – the fierce love of a demi-goddess for her country. Suddenly, I realized that not a single entry mentioned the Crystal Empire…

Princess Luna, Heir of the Moon, Guardian of the Dreamscape heroically died in the magical explosion she caused to destroy the changeling hive, thus putting an end to the changeling threat to Equestria. I hung down my head. She did it, after all. She avenged her sister but sacrificed herself to do so. Nor was that a fate deserved, no matter how valiant it was. Again, I sat in silence, honoring her noble deed. We didn’t spend much time together, but we still were good friends.

So this was how it all went. The Princesses sacrificed their lives so Equestria could live through its darkest time. And for what? Only for darker times to be brought by the ponies on themselves. That was not fair, that was not right.

I prepared to leave, since there wasn’t much more I wished to learn. And I honestly doubted I could – these archives were a joke. But then my gaze slid onto the last entry, which I ignored on purpose, but still failed to evade completely.

Princess Celestia, Heir of the Sun, the Dawnbringer died during the Great War, fighting for Equestria on a battlefield.

What..? At first I thought I reread the entry about Cadance, so alike they were, but I wasn’t mistaken. It made no sense. I saw with my very eyes how Chrysalis killed Her. I was at the funeral. That entry was a blatant lie.

Nopony, not even the Princesses could bring a once-living creature back to life. Sombra, maybe, but it said that She fought for Equestria, so it made no sense no matter how you turned it.

Nothing in that entry was making any sense. But then again, these archives were a vault for the useless fruits of overgrown bureaucracy. Most of the information was devoid of any actual meaning. If it was true to begin with. Who knew how much other data was incorrect?

Actually, it was all beginning to make sense. The Crown appeared to be a dictatorship, and from what I knew such a form of a government had a tendency to purge or twist any knowledge threatening the regime. Anypony could come here, after all, but they would learn no history from the history.

I should have expected that, really. Now I felt very bad for dragging Flower and Delight here, despite their rather justified protests. Speaking of which, where were they? I had probably spent hours digging through that database. I remembered seeing Flower taking a nap not far from where I sat, but then she had gone somewhere. Where Delight was, I had not a single idea. Even “Twilight” was gone.

Feeling extremely frustrated I stood up from my place. With the complete failure of my plan, we had to come up with a new one. And this time I really should listen to them.

It took me quite some time navigating through passways submerged in shadows and eerie light between the shelves and terminals, but I finally stumbled upon Tin Flower. And she wasn’t alone – the filly, looking much more invigorated, was vividly but quietly discussing something with Archivarius, both sitting beside “Twilight”. The equinoid who was supposed to resemble my likeness appeared to be offline – her eyes weren’t glowing, and the metal frame was still like a statue. As I approached closer, I saw the purple-painted plates had been removed from her head and body, revealing the inner workings.

I came a bit closer, and Archivarius noticed me and gave me a nod, but said nothing. I stopped near one the terminals, not wanting to interrupt their talk.

“...So, these are solid gems, right?” Flower said holding one of “Twilight’s” crystals in her hoof. It looked very familiar to me, like something from my times. “The old tech?”

“Yes. When the transference was attempted for the first time, clusters of microcrystals weren’t invented yet. And since then, nopony bothered to transfer her data,” Archivarius patiently explained.

“She doesn’t seem to have much of that anyway,” Flower grumbled, returning the gem inside the metal body. “Even my left leg has more personality.” Her last words had a slight reverb to them, since she had shoved her muzzle deep inside “Twilight's” torso.

“Hey, Archivarius,” she asked as her head came back from the equinoid’s inner workings.

“Hm?”

“Do you and this “Twilight” have an owner?”

“Technically, no,” Archivarius answered after some thought, “but we both are property of The Crown.” Then he narrowed his green glowing eyes. “Why do you ask, little one?”

“Well, technically, if you have no owner you are either breaking the law or you are some kind of exception I’ve never heard of.” Flower finally finished tinkering with “Twilight” and now was fully engaged in the conversation, pointing her hoof accusingly at Archivarius. I began to feel that it all was taking a direction I wasn’t going to like.

“We are property of The Crown we are The Crown.” Archivarius stood up from where he was sitting and tried to do his best to look intimidating. “We are the law.”

“Uh-huh, sure you are.” Apparently, Flower wasn’t impressed by the display at all. “Does it mean you and she are free?”

“I guess.” Again, only after some thought, Archivarius answered. “Why are you asking all of this?”

“I ask, if “Twilight” is free to come and go as she wishes,” Flower said, patting the still metal body on the back.

“I’m in charge of the Archives, not her, strictly speaking. So if Twilight Sparkle wishes, she is free to leave indeed. But she will have to answer to The Crown for her actions.” He narrowed his eyes again. “And it has to be her own will to leave, not your programming. Do it and you will be charged with theft of royal possessions. It’s a death sentence or the Crystal Mines, if you will be lucky enough to choose.”

Alright, now I wasn’t liking it in the slightest.

“Tin Flower? What are you up to?” I inquired to the filly, leaving the shadow from where I was listening to them.

“Oh, here you are, Twilight.” Flower beamed at me, like she wasn’t planning any crimes just a moment before. “Did you find what you looked for?”

“Sadly, no.” I shook my head. We would talk about that, surely, but after I prevented us from getting into even bigger trouble. “You didn’t answer my question.’’

“Oh, that.” She nonchalantly waved her hoof in dismissal. “I just thought about transferring your memory crystals into that body.”

“You what?” I exclaimed in sheer disbelief. It was wrong on every level. “You can’t do that! That… that will be murder!” was the first reason that came into my mind. That “Twilight” might not have any of the memories she was supposed to have, but she was still a sentient being.

“Listen, Twilight, this ‘Twilight Sparkle’ has the intelligence of a calculator and she has no memories whatsoever,” Flower retorted. “I can slap a sticker saying “Twilight” on that terminal over there with the same result...”

“Now, wait, both of you,” Archivarius said, coming closer to us with confusion written all over his robotic features. “What is this all about?”

“This equinoid here has the memories of Twilight Sparkle! She is h…” Flower began to explain, pointing her hoof at me, but I didn’t let her finish. Putting my hoof over her mouth, I dragged her aside.

“Could you excuse us for a minute?”

I let Flower go only when we were far enough so Archivarius wouldn’t hear us. The filly looked really annoyed by my actions, so I spoke before she could start arguing with me.

“Flower, you can’t just go around telling that to ponies!” I chided her in a harsh whisper.

“You still don’t believe that you are Twilight, do you?” she almost barked back, giving me a look full of disappointment.

“That’s not it.” It really wasn’t a problem anymore. However, I couldn’t say if it was a good thing. Existing had consequences. “I’m not really sure The Crown will be glad to know I’m still alive.”

“Why?” Her look changed to a puzzled one. “You were a great scientist and a big deal, what’s wrong with that?”

Yes, a scientist, but nothing more, according to the archives. There was not a single mention of the Bearers (as the Bearers) or the Elements themselves in the database. Something was telling me whoever was in charge didn’t want them to be around anymore, me probably included.

“It’s… complicated.” Explaining everything would have taken me more time than we had. “Just don’t tell anypony.”

However, all I received was an eye roll.

“I’m pretty sure Archivarius already knows, Twilight. I’m no unicorn, but that equinoid here never had his gems cleared. And he is centuries old, as he says.” She glanced back, where we left him. “Methinks, he very well may be a Former One.”

If I had a spine to begin with (well, I had the metal one, but it wasn’t the same) I would get shivers up it. There was something off about Archivarius, I couldn't deny that. And Flower’s explanation sounded very plausible. I wasn’t recognizing anypony I knew in that equinoid, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t know who I was.

“Then we should go now,” I said out loud and began to move away from where I stood to look for Delight and be gone from the Archives as soon as possible. But Flower dashed right in front of me.

“No, you don’t understand!” Flower pressed her hooves into my chest, as if to push me back. Of course, I didn’t move, but I got the message and stopped. She sat in front of me, her hooves still pressed into me as though she wasn’t sure of her initial success. “It’s our only chance.”

“Chance for what?” I hissed. “To be caught by the police? Or the Royal Guard?”

“If he wanted to call any of them, they would be here long ago, don’t be ridiculous.” Flower tapped her hoof against my metal plating. Then she pointed with another behind my shoulder and said, “I’m talking about the body, it’s in almost perfect condition and that’s not all. It is made from old metal, every part of it. If we want to make it to Stalliongrad we need it.” She looked critically over my current sordid vessel for my entity. “Those rusty bones are going to fall apart in a few weeks, even with all that Litany changed. And if you think we can buy something like that later, the entirety Canterlot will freeze five times over before we get enough e-bits.”

“But she is an equinoid, not just a terminal!” I objected, my voice involuntarily rising in indignation. “She has sentience, she has feelings. She may not be “Twilight” and she is not alive in the same sense as you, but she is still a living being.” But as I talked, I saw no change in Tin Flower’s eyes. She was giving me an unamused stare all that time. And was that pity in her unwavering gaze? Frustrated, I used my last argument, “Taking, no, stealing her body for myself would be outright murder!”

“Twilight,” Flower calmly began in almost patronizing tone, “she is just a machine. Not everything that talks, looks and acts like a pony is an equinoid.” She pinched the bridge of her nose with the metal hoof, while twirling another in the air, looking for words. “Equinoids, they have, like, a ‘true’ sentience – a fully-fledged AI. Yes, they are beings, though some will disagree.” She again pointed with her hoof behind my back, where the exposed ancient crystals gleamed inside the metal skeleton. “But she doesn’t have that. She has a programming and it’s not the same. She is not alive or dead, she is just a thing,” she finished, and gave me a hard, but somewhat sympathetic look. “Now, let’s go, you are moving into a new home.”

Flower didn’t need to drag or push me back this time. She was making sense, after all. I wanted to believe she was. Was it my ignorance, or was it that easy? To so simply draw a line between a ‘being’ and a ‘thing’? And that ‘fully-fledged AI’ which granted a machine the right to be considered a being, wasn’t it programming too? Who was to judge where the programming ended and the entity started? Suddenly, I felt that the existence of the Church of the Machine Goddess, with all its followers’ contempt for organic life, wasn’t only logical, but even justified.

“Archivarius?” Flower whisked me out of my thoughts, as we returned to the offline ‘Twilight’.

“Yes?” he asked back, rising his brow.

“Did The Crown specify how Twilight Sparkle’s memories were supposed to return?”

“No. Remember, I’m taking care of the Archives, not other equinoids.” Archivarius narrowed his eyes in suspicion again, though I could tell he was interested.

“Then I’d like to restore her memories,” Flower simply said.

“Really? How?” His eyes were no longer narrow with vague apprehension, but wide from curiosity, glancing between me, Tin Flower and ‘Twilight Sparkle’.

“This equinoid here is Twilight Sparkle,” -Flower pointed at me- “and I want to transfer the memories she has into her true body.”

Archivarius gave me a long, very long, yet expressionless stare. But when it was starting to become really uncomfortable, his eyes flashed, or I thought they did, and he spoke.

“Do go on.” The approval was said in a calm, nonchalant voice, as if we weren’t talking about a potentially disastrous transfer of memories which also happened to involve royal property, an illegal not-really-an-equinoid and a underage criminal, not counting a former prostitute.

“Just like that?” It was my turn to ask question.

“I said it’s not my business.” Archivarius shrugged. “I won’t stop you.”

I was sitting paralyzed and staring into the dead eyes of ‘Twilight’. There was no internal reason for that – Flower simply turned off all my body systems except for the ‘brains’ as she put it. And asked me not to think too hard, unless I wanted to get overheated.

It was a rather unpleasant state of existence, being unable to move and feel. It was like the tunnels under the Edge all over again or the moment I woke up. I couldn’t turn my head around, but my field of vision was wide enough to see a lot of things.

A mere hoof in front of me was the body of ‘Twilight’ with many plates removed, revealing sockets for gems – some of them already empty. Even despite Flower’s and then Delight’s reassurances I still couldn’t get rid of the feeling of uneasiness. Like I was about to steal not only a body, but a life. No matter how miserable ‘Twilight’s’ existence was, I felt like she was a being who deserved to be respected. Or that somewhere deep inside she still had some memories from her past. I guess, my lack of knowledge, or rather non-existence of recordings, of the implications of the Transference Paradox was preventing me from believing that everything Twilight, everything… I was had been lost in that attempt.

In the corner of my vision I could see Delight. Her single eye gleamed in the shadows as she observed Flower’s labours while perched atop one of the large terminals. Occasionally she would glare at Archivarius, since it was him who found her taking a nap on one of the shelves, amongst some papers she had managed to find. He didn’t take such treatment of his beloved archives very well, and thus the pegasus was awakened in a rather rude fashion – shoved from that shelf with the full force of two mechanical hooves.

Archivarius himself was leaning on the terminal, calmly and patiently watching Tin Flower work. From time to time he commented on the process, giving the savant little mechanic tips and tricks, but never leaving his post.

Taking into account my lack of knowledge about the average mechanical skill nowadays, I couldn’t fairly judge that of Flower. But by my own experience, she was a prodigy. She starkly reminded me of Moondancer – the little filly had almost the same focused fervor Moonie possessed during work. Flower moved fast and nimbly, assembling and disassembling my and ‘Twilight’s’ bodies with a dexterity even most unicorns couldn’t hope to achieve. She clearly knew what she was doing, which was amazing since she learned all that by herself without knowing how to properly read. I wondered briefly of what she would be capable of when she finally learned to read, and that it might be me who could teach her…

“Alright, Twilight. I’m going to turn you offline and put your memory crystals inside the new body. You won’t even notice anything… I think,” she finally said, wiping her grime-covered hooves on her clothing.

Unable to give any answer or, more importantly, clarify that uncertain detail, I began to panic. What if I lost any memories I had since I had awakened in Canterlot? What if all my memories were wiped because of the Transference Paradox still affecting ‘Twilight’s’ body? What if…

And then everything went black.

But only for a single moment, as if I simply blinked.

When my eyes opened again, I saw not the purple painted muzzle, but a slumped rusted frame, battered and wrapped in rags dirty with oil and dried blood. It worked!

I blinked and took a sharp breath. Blinked! And breathed!

Realizing that I could move, I looked around. The new body felt almost natural – smooth and swift motions, a much more rich range of feelings – and it was my size and color. Whoever had designed it had planned for me to feel as little difference as possible, it seemed.

As was I turning around, looking at myself and testing my limbs I noticed Flower, Del and Archivarius looking at me as well. Flower was the first to speak.

“Twilight?”

“Yes?” I was still twirling around, enjoying what had to be the pneumatics. “This new body is just amazing!”

“I’m glad you are enjoying it and I’m glad you made it.” At that moment I realised that Flower was looking at me with concern. Del and Archivarius were giving me uncertain glances just as well.

“‘Made it’?” I asked, confused. I thought it all went without a hitch, and I seemed to have no problems. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve never worked with crystals like yours.” Flower fidgeted somewhat in embarrassment, but then quickly added, “Nopony ever had, I think. So I didn’t know what to expect.” She looked me right in the eyes. “It took half an hour for you to boot.”

“Oh,” was all I could say. It sounded… scary. I just blinked, but thirty minutes passed in reality. It could have been hours. Days. Weeks. Five hundred years.

“It’s alright, you just got me worried for a sec.” I could clearly see how Flower was growing more relaxed with each moment, relief written all over her face. “I’m gonna run diagnostics one more time, just in case, and we are good to go.”

As she said the last part, I glanced at Archivarius to see his reaction to that, but he remained silent, bearing no expression but vivid curiosity gleaming in his eyes. He was unnerving at best, outright creepy otherwise. He looked like a grotesque mimicry of a pony, made so lifelike that it became uncanny. I couldn't even fathom what was in his mind. If Archivarius was a Former One, I couldn’t understand why he would work for the Crown, and in such a place – a forsaken and forgotten repository of lies. But he said he was the property of the Crown, right? However, he didn’t seem to comply with his masters entirely – he just let a ragtag clique basically take royal property. In any case, if he indeed never had his crystals cleared, then I would still be wary of a pony who spent centuries in solitude confined to one single place. Pony or equinoid, it just couldn’t be healthy.

As if sensing me thinking of him, Archivarius, followed by Delight, began to walk towards me.

“Glad you are still with us,” said Delight, smiling. Chuckling, she added, “And you look much better, not like you are going to start a rampage anymore.”

“Thanks.” I chuckled as well and gave a momentary glance to my ‘old’ body. Yikes. “I’m glad about it too.”

“If you weren’t smashing into walls and trying to kill ponies,” Flower grumbled from somewhere at my side, a small wrench in her teeth, “ you would have looked fine. And,” -she spit it out and pulled her hoof from inside of my chest- “...what the synth-hay is that?”

I turned my head back as far as I could to see what Flower was talking about. Del and Archivarius came closer and craned their necks to see the small object Flower was holding in her hooves.

“Isn’t it one of those empty crystals?” Del commented, as she moved Flower’s hoof with her wingtip to take a better look.

I could see that Archivarius had narrowed his eyes in thought, but remained silent.

“It is,” confirmed Flower, but the puzzled look didn’t vanish from her face. “But it was not connected to anything and it was kinda hidden.”

From all this commotion by my side I couldn’t see a thing, not to mention that there were limits to how far I could turn my head. So I stretched my hoof to Flower.

“Let me take a look.”

The crystal was of a familiar design, a solid one (though I yet had to see those “clusters of microcrystals”, so I could be mistaken). An amethyst with classic unicorn facetting, either of average quality or just worn out with time. But it was telling me nothing about its purpose. It also was set in a silver case encrusted with smaller button-like semi-precious stones, which I couldn’t name, but I noted their rarity, very bright rich magenta and deep blue colors. It was obviously enchanted; inside the translucent violet depth a glow of magic could be clearly seen.

“Looks like a recording crystal, like the ones I used,” I voiced my closest guess, “but I can’t be sure until the enchantment is checked.” Which was not going to happen any time soon, since none of us was a unicorn.

As I rolled the crystal in my hooves, a thought struck me – it wasn’t just a decorative casing, it was a specifically crafted and enchanted setting to make it usable by non-unicorns. But my company might not know that.

“It also looks like it can be activated by non-magic users…” I mumbled, continuing to study the mysterious crystal, searching for anything that would reveal its purpose.

“Well what are we waiting for?” Flower eagerly said from under my hooves, stretching hers to snatch the gem from me.

“Wait, Flower, I said that I don’t know what enchantment it holds. And do you remember what happened last time?” I still had no idea what was happening in Archivarius’ head, but I was pretty sure that if I made the crystal explode like what happened in Flower’s shack, he would call all the Royal Guard in the city and also personally hunt me until the end of my days for violating his precious archives.

“It may contain something very important, like your last message or something,” the filly retorted. “Don’t you want to know?”

I absolutely craved to know, more than anything else. I didn’t know anything about my past “future” or why and how I attempted a transference. And I was one hundred and twenty percent sure that the crystal didn’t end up inside my body by accident. Somepony left a message to be heard either by me after the transference attempt or by anypony who found it in the case of failure. Ironically, I happened to be both, strange as it might sound.

I glanced at Archivarius, but he was silent and almost expressionless, besides the curiosity in his eyes. Our eyes met and he gave me a very small nod.

“Alright, let’s hope it’s worth it.”

I breathed in deeply and exhaled (Goddesses, it felt so good to finally be able to do it) and pressed the smaller gem in the casing which I hoped was the activating one – my memory was a bit fuzzy about such contraptions.

To my great relief, nothing exploded and the crystal remained in my hooves steadily, simply glowing and emanating faint static. However, after a few moments the audio message began to play.

“I haven’t used these recording gems for so long, I almost forgot how to enchant them.” I didn’t recognize it immediately, but it was my own voice! A bit hoarse and sounding very tired, but it was still me.

“Weren’t you supposed to say the date and other boring stuff before you start? You are getting old, Twily.” Moondancer! She sounded mostly the same, a bit different in fashion, as I did. And then I realised – in that recording both Moonie and I sounded old.

“So are you!” My voice barked back at Moonie. Did I become a grumpy old mare? Such a shame it didn’t have a date to know when it was happening.

“Sheesh, relax,” Moondancer replied. “Stop being so nervous – it will all work perfectly.”

“Yeah, and then I will throw you a party!” Pinkie! I hadn’t heard or seen her in ages! If Moonie and I sounded old, and the war did not last for a long time after the last thing I remembered, then it meant she survived. Speaking of old – Pinkie’s voice was a bit different too – more low now. “‘Welcome-to-a-new-body Party’!” That made me chuckle. She might sound older, but it was still the same Pinkie. “Wait, does it count like a second birthday? Do I need to plan two birthdays for you from now on? Twice as many parties!” With her last words, her voice faded away as if she walked, no, hopped away. I felt a prick in my proverbial heart. I missed her so much. I missed all of them.

“You know, you can at least try not to look so gloomy and wish us luck,” Moonie spoke again, addressing somepony else.

“I’m still not certain about these enchantments. Many ponies have tried to achieve immortality, but it doesn’t work through conventional magic.” That mare’s voice I didn’t recognize, though it sounded somewhat familiar. I was sure I had heard it before, but I couldn’t remember who it belonged to for the life of me. The fact that it also had a strange echoing, distorted quality to it wasn’t helping in the slightest.

“It’s not immortality, it’s a transference,” Moondancer calmly retorted.

“There is no reason for it not to work.” ‘I’ didn’t sound that serene, however. “We all checked them – they are impeccable, just like the gems,” ‘I’ snapped at the unknown voice.

“And we are going to check them again, right before the experiment is going take place,” Moonie said, in placating tone, most probably addressing me and not the unknown mare.

“It's not about how correctly they were cast, it's about the enchantments themselves.” The mysterious speaker wasn’t as irritated as ‘I’ sounded, more pleading than anything else. “I still think you should have included all of my suggestions.”

“No way! No dark magic!” ‘I’ began to outright yell. “Look at what they have done to you!” What? What were they talking about? Who was that pony?

“At least they worked,” the unknown mare grumbled, and added, “if it was so easy to make what you want to, then we would be surrounded by undying ponies.”

“You almost sound like you don’t want us to succeed.” Now even Moondancer sounded a bit cross.

“It’s because I want you to, I’m doing this,” exclaimed the mysterious mare in exasperation. “It’s just… one can’t bend Harmony’s rules using its own tools!”

“We are not resorting to dark magic!” ‘My’ anger was incoercible, however. Was that who I became by the end of ‘my’ life? A hysterical old mare? “Nothing good ever comes out of that!”

“Alright, alright, we are all nervous, but we need to stop this bickering. It is too late to change anything anyway.” Moondancer, judging by the sound of hooves shuffling, had positioned herself betwixt me and that mare. Though, I could only guess that. “Listen, if something happens and we were wrong, then you can do whatever you deem necessary. Do you agree, Twi?” Her voice sounded louder and clearer as she addressed ‘me’.

“Fine,” came an answer accompanied by the sound of a mane blown out of eyes, “there isn’t going to be any need for that, anyway.”

“Now let’s go and have a party with Pinkie,” continued Moondancer, “she has even managed to get a cake somewhere...”

The sound of hooves clopping on the floor fading away signified a logical, and a few moments later, with a sharp crack of static, physical end of the recording.

It… was something. More questions than answers, as usual. A lot of new information to process. Suddenly I noticed that the silence which took reign after the recording had ended stretched for far too long – nopony said a single word. In fact, Flower, Del and Archivarius were staring at me with wide eyes.

I looked over myself and duly noted that I was glowing. The crystal in my hooves remained dormant, but it had awakened something in my new body.

I could see something inside me was intaking magic and emanating it at the same time… it was as if I had magic in my control, except I didn’t. But… I could feel... something? Was it magic interacting with my inner workings? It felt almost the same way magic felt when I had my original body.

This body was as good as it could get, I suppose, but it was still wrong, I couldn’t wield magic – the horn on top my head was nothing but an aesthetic feature… or was it? Very carefully I concentrated on that feeling of a flow of the raw magical energy swirling around me, coming in and out of my body through the gaps in the plates. It wasn’t swirling chaotically, there was a pattern… out of the crystals I thought to be empty and into a shaft inside the horn. Yes, I could feel, albeit with great difficulty, that circuit. But how could it be possible? Of course, it had to be an acranium core inside the horn! But did it mean I could try and disrupt that circle and funnel it into a spell? I decided to give it a try.

And then there was an explosion.

Well, that didn’t work.

Or, rather, it did. In my excitement and obliviousness I committed the most basic of mistakes in magic – I funneled it into itself with a very predictable result. Thankfully, this equinoid body wasn’t too realistic, overwise I would have ended up with an inability to cast magic for a few days and a nasty headache. Though, the first repercussion was open to debate, if, of course, I somehow truly regained my magic in the first place.

And, most luckily, I didn’t shut down. But that was where any good outcomes from this mishap ended.

Because I wasn’t casting any particular spell, the explosion didn’t ignite or have any other unpleasant properties, but that was generously compensated for by the amount of sheer physical force emitted. So, the Archives were now a huge wreck, to say it lightly.

I was knocked back, and while I didn’t suffer any injuries, at least from what I could tell, it took me some time to untangle my limbs and regain a standing position. And by that moment I could hear the tinkling sound of broken crystals falling around me like glass rain.

Yeah, the Archives were totally ruined now. But that wasn’t what really bothered me at that moment. I swirled my head around looking for Tin Flower and Delight, for whom my mistake could have been much more harmful.

One thing I noted despite my worry – I could see in the dark now. Not as good as during the day, surely, but it was still better than nothing, because the explosion knocked the already modest lights out. However, even with my augmented vision I could see no equine silhouettes anywhere – standing upright or strewn on the floor.

“Twilight, up here!” came a call from the above. It was then I realised that I could hear a flapping of wings through the cacophony of the calamity taking place around me. I looked up.

Near the ceiling, Delight was hovering in the air, holding Flower in her hooves. To my immense relief they looked disheveled, but overwise unscathed. Though, there was still no sign of Archivarius, which was a good and bad thing at the same time. I didn’t want him to get hurt, but I wasn’t very keen on meeting him right now either.

Suddenly, from somewhere behind me I heard a loud bang.

“FREEZE!” An angry voice, distorted and artificially magnified came from the remains of the entrance door.

I turned around and to my horror I saw the armor-like uniforms of police, four ponies scanning the room with beams of light coming from flashlights. Attached to the barrels of guns.

Either it was Archivarius’ doing, or, most likely, the explosion was noticed from the outside. Anyway, it was a huge problem. I had an ID, a new body, but how was I going to explain nearly destroying the Archives? Not to mention that I still had the “magic contamination” of my crystals. Slowly, panic began to rise in me.

“Twilight, to the windows!” Del loudly whispered to me, while swooping over my head in the direction opposite to the policeponies. I had no choice but to follow her.

With the very first step I stepped on the half-broken gem on the floor, pulverizing it with a loud crunching noise. Instantly, the beams of light focused on me.

I remembered that those flashlights were attached to firearms a moment too late. I tried to dash behind the nearest fallen shelf, but I already heard loud bangs of guns fired. They were almost instantly followed by a tinking sound of bullets ricocheting from the metal racks and my body, joined by the explosions of concrete near my rear hooves.

Oh, right, I was metal now. But still, those plates weren’t very thick and there were gaps in them as well. I’d better not risk it.

“It’s a fucking tinhead, don’t waste the bullets you moron!” I heard behind me after the firing ceased. “Prepare the EMPs!”

The what? An Engineering Modification Proposal? An Experimentation Master Plan? Though, I didn’t really want to find out what it was. But I didn’t have a choice, it seemed, because just a few moments later a metal cylinder flew over my head and landed right in front of me. I stared at it for a blink of an eye before it came to me – explosives. Explosives! I tried to turn around and jump behind some cover, but, again, I was too late.

A wave of iridescent glow rapidly expanded from it, enveloping everything around, including me. For a single moment my vision was filled with static, just when the wave touched me. But that was it. Nothing followed that wave and I didn’t feel any change. Maybe it didn’t work? I wasn’t going to try it again, however. I madly dashed forward, to where Delight and Flower were supposedly waiting for me. Unfortunately, I not only couldn’t fly, but my magic accident had knocked some racks over, creating obstacles on my way. The crystals and their shards strewn all over the floor, threatening to make me slip, weren’t helping either.

Obviously, my movement didn’t go undetected.

“Why the fuck is it still moving?” an angered yell came from the same barking police officer. “After it!”

That made me speed up in my navigation through the wreck. To my luck, I all but crashed into Del and Flower after another turn.

“Hurry up!” Delight said before I could even open my mouth, and flew out the window, still holding Flower in her hooves.

How was I supposed to follow them? I looked out and realized that I was on the first floor actually, and the only reason Delight used her wings was to avoid the razor sharp glass shards still remaining in the window frame. Using Del’s advice, wasting no time, I smashed through them and landed on the pavement below, sending sparks flying from under my hooves.

I looked around – we were in the middle of a small street, a moderately lively one, but that wasn’t what caught my eye. I could clearly see the policeponies wading through the crowd from their vehicles not far away. We were being surrounded, and at any moment four more “law” enforcers would jump out right behind us.

We couldn’t run, we couldn’t fight back. What were our options? My mind was running. I could see panic in Del’s and Flower’s eyes – they didn’t seem to have any ideas either. “They”… The police were after me, not some pegasus and a filly. And one of them could fly…

“Del,” -I grabbed her by the shoulder- “take Flower and flee to the Edge!” I yelled at her.

Both hers and Flower’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

“But what about you!?” cried Flower, grabbing me in return.

I couldn’t be shot, well, not immediately. There was a chance those “EMP’s” weren’t actually working on me, and I might have an ability to cast magic again. For me it wasn’t a completely hopeless situation.

For them – it was a “death sentence or the Crystal Mines if they are lucky enough to choose”. And that was if the police didn’t just shoot them where they were.

“I will be alright,” I lied. Most likely I wouldn’t, but it didn’t matter. “I will meet you there. Now, go!”

Del, probably realising that she could be shot if she lingered any longer, gave me a nod and swooped Flower from her hooves, before she could say anything or have any second thought. They shot upwards and soon were lost amidst the reflections of the neon.

I was on my own again. That didn't end very well for me last time, though now I knew more and I had a new body. And maybe magic. Maybe. But right now I simply had to run.

I picked a direction which seemed to have fewer policeponies and began to pick up speed.

The thoroughfare wasn’t very crowded, so the ponies were yielding right out of my way. Some didn’t, and I knocked them back, thanks to my superior mass. One time I even thought I heard a crack of bones breaking, but I didn’t have time to check on them.

Suddenly a policepony appeared before me seemingly out of nowhere. I skidded in my tracks, not wishing to try my luck with ramming into them. They (or rather, he, judging by the square jaw poking from under the black visor of the helmet) sneered and instantly pulled a gun on me. A few shots went wide and I heard screams behind me – of pain and of panic. One bullet found its target and ricocheted from my breast plate with a spark – where my heart once was. Realizing that I was no pony, the officer pulled out a familiar cylinder and threw it in my direction, but I was on the run already.

I left him behind and resumed running down the street. That wasn’t a very good plan, frankly. I didn’t know where I was, so at this moment I could be running in the wrong direction. Even if I was running towards the Edge, sooner or later the police would catch up with me. And they would either bring bigger guns, like the one I saw on top of the hovering vehicle during the raid, or use who knows what else they had to bring me down. Not to mention that I couldn’t just go straight to the Edge from the city – the only way for me to cross the wall was underneath it. Whether I wanted to or not, I had to dive into the Tunnels again. And the Goddesses knew I didn’t, not in the slightest.

As I was dashing forward with all the delicacy and speed of a train, I was looking for the sight of alcoves, where hatches leading underground seemed to often be.

Yes! I could see one. I took a sharp turn and almost fell – I still needed to get used to that much weight. To my dismay, as I approached the trapdoor in the middle of the short deserted backstreet, I saw that it was not only closed, but crudely welded. There was no chance to pry it open with my bare hooves – there was nothing left to take hold of, and I didn’t know the power my pneumatic limbs held. Now wasn’t the time to test their resistance limits either. However, I had something else now, right?

I concentrated on my horn and the crystals inside me and felt the same circuit flowing through my body. Alright, no disrupting it this time. But what I was supposed to do? I focused and mentally tried to expand it onwards without breaking, like a huge loop of arcane energy. So far, nothing had exploded. I carefully guided the protuberance until it reached the hatch and to my joy I saw it being enveloped in the familiar pink glow.

“Stop right there, criminal scum!” a cry came from behind me and my concentration broke. I swirled around, my metal tail scraping the concrete, producing a rain of sparks.

“A socket fucker! With the fucking magic!” A policepony, a stallion with a bushy grey beard sounded genuinely surprised, but it didn’t last long. He pulled an “EMP” cylinder out of a belt with many other and threw it my way. “How do you like them apples?”

In the short and narrow passage there was no place to hide or even dodge that thing. I still tried to jump away, but my back pressed into the wall. With horror I watched the multicolored wave reach to me and wash over, causing a single moment of static, like the previous time. And nothing else happened. I still had no idea what goal EMP’s were supposed to achieve, but apparently it didn’t happen, because I saw the grin on the policepony’s muzzle morph into a slack jaw of amazement.

I didn’t waste a moment, though. The “EMP’s” didn’t work on me, but I had a suspicion that those police armors might have strengthening exoskeletons – a guess I didn’t want to have proven by this stallion tackling me to the ground. Also, from this distance he could simply shoot me in the joints or eyes. I didn’t want to find out how old age reflected on his sharpshooting abilities.

Still not used to my strange magical ability, I improvised – I hooked the slack of it around his hooves and yanked them out, making the stallion drop on the ground with a loud clatter.

I left the elder policepony behind and began to rocket down the street once again, looking to the sides in search of another indent in this concrete and glass maze. Soon enough another pocket appeared in my sight and I rushed to it as fast as my metal hooves would allow.

Deserted, narrow, short, with garbage containers. Nothing new, except the hatch wasn’t welded this time. Actually, it was once, but somepony undid it, leaving deep jagged marks. That didn’t matter right now. I threw it open and paused for a moment.

I looked up, at the cloudy sky and the bright neon signs. It wasn’t much, but neither the Tunnels nor the Edge had even that. I took a deep breath, steeled myself and began my descent.

Author's Notes:
Alrighty, so here goes chapter 7. Because of the holidays and whatnot it took a bit longer than usual.
Recently I've made a blog post dedicated to the progress of the story. In short words - chapters 8 and 9 are done and being edited. Chapter 10 is cooking, more than half-way done, actually. You may expect a few short stories in the nearest future.
Aside from that I don't have much too say, nothing new happened over the last week.
Once upon a time Gekasso made a blog dedicated to illustrations for Aftersound, but everything changed when the fire nation attacked. So, that Tumblr page is now dead and I've uploaded all the images here.
Aftersound Project Discord server -DO IT! Just do it! Don't let your dreams be dreams.
As usual, I appreciate any feedback, and if you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know.
I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.

Chapter 8 – Bitter dreams, sweet nightmares

Aftersound

=================================

Written by:

Flutterfinar & Geka

Preread and edited by:

mikemeiers, IAmApe, Jay Tarrant

Cover art done by:

=================================

Bitter dreams, sweet nightmares

====================

The Tunnels readily greeted me with near darkness and overwhelming fetor even before I reached the last steps of the rusty staircase. Though, I was almost ready for that. Almost.

From all I had seen so far, the underground world of Canterlot appeared to be absolved of any law and order, at least of that imposed by police forces. However, I didn’t know that for sure, so I continued to move hastily, in case I was still pursued. The stairs led me directly to a narrow passage, which in its turn opened into a wider tunnel – the outline I was already familiar with.

The wide and tall vaulted tunnel was moderately crowded, basically the same as I had seen before, while travelling with the zebras. I glanced over my shoulder, but saw no pursuit. Still, deciding not to risk it, I picked a direction at random, turned left and began to trot ahead. How ironic: not long ago I despised the Tunnels as a sanctuary for outlaws and outcasts, but now I had become one of them.

The ponies and equinoids I was passing by barely paid me any attention. Some gave me short curious glances, but I guess for most of the Tunnel dwellers I was just an average equinoid in slightly too good condition and with a bit of an unusual design. In my turn, I was more attentive towards my surroundings. Now that I didn’t have to keep pace with the long-legged zebras, I was able to take a closer look at the underground life, though to a limited extent. I didn’t want to be nosey after all, or I might have ended up in trouble.

The first thing I noticed, while still being decadent, the public, and the Tunnels themselves, didn’t look as bad as they did closer to the Edge. No more very sickly looking ponies lay on the grated floor amongst those who lost the battle to illness or met their terrible demise any other way. The traders, who were a less common sight here, didn’t have artificial internal organs put on their makeshift trading displays. Overall, the assortment of merchandise looked less like just some junk and more like actual modern and complex devices. Even the drugs, if that was actually what they were, appeared to be of a higher quality – assorted in clean glass vials and plastic containers, each labeled with a colorful sticker.

One thing, however, didn’t change much – most of the ponies, those who weren’t on their way somewhere, were residing in the shadows between the islands of light provided by unbroken lamps, busy with all conventional sorts of pastimes.

Devices projecting translucent forms in the air were abundant amongst the throng resting near the walls. Those magic images of neon blue, pink and acid green were like small bonfires, lighting up the faces of ponies gathered around them in small circles. A few of those apparitions resembled plans and maps of some enormous multi-level structures – maybe even the Tunnels themselves. Though, I feared to approach the owners of those schemes – they all were ponies, and in here not a single pony could be seen sitting beside their artificial counterparts. In other cases, the arcane projections seemed to be figures of ponies, sometimes moving on their own will, and sometimes appearing to be controlled by the ponies who were near the projectors, or at least, that was what I thought.

Those projecting devices weren't the only things casting light on their muzzles, tearing off the veil of darkness obscuring the ponies. Square displays flashing with content unknown to me were spilling forth their eerie everchanging shining. I would say that those were more dominant, and not just in their abundance; staring at a screen was the most widespread activity the Tunnel dwellers were immersed in.

I also noted that even the cigarettes were replaced. Instead of the cylinders of tobacco wrapped in paper, ponies held in hooves and magic much bulkier things, devices of metal and plastic, which seemed served a similar role. Round or square, shining with little spark-like lamps or just with reflections on polished metal, they all worked the same. Ponies were bringing them to their lips and inhaling, making the devices faintly hiss for an instant. Then, huge and dense clouds of smoke would leave their lungs and slowly dissipate in the surrounding air, often creating a small area of fog around the most zealous groups of smokers. To my surprise, when I happened to pass through one such eddy, I discovered that it wasn’t actually smoke – it didn’t smell of anything burned, instead it had a soft aroma of candy and herbs. That new tendency was sure peculiar, but I had trouble finding it unpleasant.

For me, as a traveler from the distant past, modern life was very intriguing. Especially since every, even the smallest, aspect of it seemed to have changed to some degree. Now, when I was almost mingling with that new strange world by merit of my appearance, I had the freedom to study it as I wished. But I had no time. Clandestine Delight and Tin Flower were somewhere at the Edge, at the Junkyard to be exact, waiting for me. If they made it, of course. Like with Flower and Wire not long ago, I couldn’t know that for sure. The police weren’t interested in them, which was also up for debate, but even if that was true, they both had to travel across half of the city and straight to the Edge. And the final part of that journey lay underground in the most vile part of the Tunnels I had seen so far. It all certainly wasn’t the same as two fillies running from an insane murderous pegasus to unfamiliar territory, but it was still risky. Speaking of which, Pepper Mercury was most probably still out there, fighting to seize control of all the Junkyard furnaces. There were dozens of reasons why I should have been stressing out right now, but experience taught me that I couldn't afford to in this Equestria. I was constantly running out of time, and despite how much I wanted to find a corner to just sit down and scream my head off in the frustration of adversity after adversity being thrown at my face, I had to act.

My goal at the moment was rather simple: get to the Edge, find my friends. But, of course, it only sounded simple. I didn’t know where I was exactly, and thus I didn’t know how to get where I wanted. My last experience with asking directions showed me that it was an endeavour with a very low success rate, not to mention another problem. While equinoids too were making their way through the subterrestrial paths and even sometimes, though very rarely, hiding in the shadows, there was a clearly visible segregation between them and ponies who had their bodies (well, most of their bodies) made of organic matter. The equinoids were tolerated, but even that often seemed to be strained; any glance exchanged between the artificial life and not was usually full of malice.

So, since I couldn’t ask ponies without risk of inciting a conflict, I had to approach their steel and plastic counterparts. I surely could do that, however, it wouldn’t really solve my problem. Considering how deep in the city I was and how labyrinthine the Tunnels were, I had the feeling that I would have to do that more than once before I even got to the part where the Edge started. I had to stop being dependent on guides, I needed a map. And I thought I might have found a solution for that, even though accidentally.

At some point during my semi-aimless wandering through the underground an image, a translucent section of a circle appeared in the corner of my vision, followed by the words: “A new network has been found. Connect to it now?” At first I thought it was one of those projections which were entertaining my present company, but as the little pictogram moved along with the movements of my head and eyes, I realized my mistake. Curious to find what it could possibly mean, I began to look for a place where I could sit undisturbed. A “network”? There was something promising in that. Might it be how everypony navigated these places? Anyway, very soon I found a desolate alcove formed by two large heaps of trash, submerged in the shadow of a broken lamp.

Despite the numerous rats digging in the two piles, the stench was bearable, almost nonexistent. Either that garbage was put here not so long ago or everything that could stink had been eaten away by rats, or rotted away.

I sat in the darkness and looked around – nopony paid any attention to me. Good. I saw movement at my hooves. A young rat, its little black beady eyes glimmering with the neon reflections above the ever shifting pink nose studied me intently. Somehow, the sight warmed my heart. It was something familiar, after all the vermin scarcely change. It was something natural, though back in my times rats wouldn’t come to my mind as the first example of nature, I would rather be disgusted. Not interested by my non-living, non-edible body, the creature scurried away. Alright, no more distractions.

I sat unmoving and stared ahead. Erm… what I was supposed to do, again? The image and the message still were in the corner of my vision, but I couldn’t focus on them, no matter how I swirled my head or eyes. I began to feel dumb. Was I even supposed to interact with such things? After all I was a pony and my mind could be different to that of the true equinoids who were created to fit their mechanical bodies in the perfect conjugation of metal and thought.

Okay. I calmed down my rising frustration and began to think. If it appeared, it was part of the machine I occupied as my body, right? It wasn’t a part of my mind, that’s for sure. I controlled my body, so if it was part of it, I should have been able to control it too, like my limbs. How did I do that? Magic. To be honest, when it was put that way, that sounded a bit silly. Did I need to cast some sort of spell to connect to that network? Networksitis Connectia? Was it even meant for equinoids in the first place? Ugh, it was so confusing.

I let out a deep sigh, reveling in my ability to do that. Those little things, how relaxing they were. You would start to appreciate them only when they were gone. But I was digressing.

So, I obviously needed to use magic to make things work, but it didn’t necessary have to be a spell, I thought. My mind was magic itself, and in the case of equinoids it was true as well. What were we if not living magic contained inside the gems encased into pony-like contraptions? That was something we shared despite our origin. Like the ancient magic golems, but much more complex. Suddenly, it dawned on me: my thoughts were probably repeating the same path they did five centuries ago, when “Twilight Sparkle was a scientist who made great contributions to the development of AI.” I gasped. Did… did I create the equinoids?

At this moment, it was a thought too huge to comprehend, too great to embrace at once. I began to hyperventilate, and though it could have no actual effect on me, my head began to spin. The responsibility, the consequences, the implications…

I gulped and tried to calm myself. I didn’t know. No. I couldn’t know. The Archives were incomplete, they were full of disinformation. I might have been the one who set the path without the intent of creating a conceptually new form of life, and it was only those who followed it who created the first cybernetic organisms. Or I might not have even had my hoof in that at all. That thought placated me at last, allowing me return to my current predicament. But deep inside, I could feel that I somehow was involved in it.

My mind controlled my body. My mind was the magic. So the magic controlled the body. Like a spell cast, but not by my horn to affect the world outside. A spell cast by my “mind’s horn” to affect my little world – my body.

I concentrated, focusing my consciousness on that image of quarter circle with words, and to my immense joy it flashed and streams of sentences appeared before my eyes.
.
>Connecting to ”cog_scrape_ur_faget”
>Connected
>Signal strength: good
>Frequency: 2.4 GHz
>Security: none

Below that I could see “Advanced” as an option to focus on, which upon concentrating revealed more lines with some things like IP and MAC addresses, gateway and DNS with numbers following them. However, if it even was a map, I couldn’t read it. Maybe it was the coordinates? Even if that was true, they were useless to me at this moment.

It was a success on one hoof, but that didn’t solve my problems. What if…? I concentrated my “inner magic” and thought, “Map”. To my amazement, a line containing that word appeared in the box at the bottom of my vision, it flashed and a few moments later my vision was filled with lists of entries under the title “Equi-neT. BackRub search engine”.

I carefully studied the list. All those entries were offering to “download” different maps with short descriptions of their merits, like being up to date, having more levels of the Tunnels than any other or just being fully interactive. The one that caught my eye had a feature that attracted me the most. “Includes even the Edge’s regions” the advertisement claimed.

Before I concentrated on it, I let my mind wander for a few moments. So, the so called network was like public archives of some sort. If I didn’t have so little time at my disposal, I surely would have browsed them for the information I had failed to find in the actual archives. It also seemed that the access was granted via some specific points in the city, maybe something like the servers in the Royal Archives. But all the science was unknown to me. After I got to Flower and Delight, I would surely ask them both about it and try to access the network again. Right now, I had a map to acquire and follow.

I concentrated on the entry and was brought to another screen, which to my horror was filled with animated images of outright pornography taking up every space available. I almost began to backpedal on reflex from that assault of indecency, but then I noticed a large box with the word “download” amidst the chaos of lewd images. As fast as I could, I focused on it, and another box appeared: “Do you want to save autoinstaller_v3.14.exe?” Yes! Yes, I did, just make it all go away! However, that didn’t clear the screen, still making me witness the vast variety of hard erotica.

“Close the entry,” I commanded with the magic, but nothing happened. “Close!” I thought again in panic, and finally, to my immense relief, nothing but the reality of the surrounding tunnel was left in my sight.

Phew. I better be careful next time with the network. Apparently, by being public, it contained… all sorts of things. But where was I? Right – the map. “Autoinstaller_v3.14.exe”, I thought, hoping that it would bring up the map, but instead a box, asking if I wanted to run the file appeared. Well, yes, of course, I did. I waited patiently, but to my dismay nothing happened.

I waited a bit more and suddenly my vision swam for a moment, colors twisting so fast that I was barely capable of noticing it. The walls and equines around me began to defragment, like a picture cut with scissors, thoses piece jerking around, transforming into each other, fading to grey and white or flaring with tints they didn’t have originally. Strange sounds permeated my hearing, words whispered and screamed so fast I couldn’t discern them. Synthetic noises, followed by the screech of metal against metal and returning to unnatural dissonant notes. I began to feel very strange – dizzy would be the closest to describe that. My knees buckled under me. What was happening? Something went horribly wrong, I began to realize, but my mind was becoming more and more sluggish with every passing moment. I turned my head at the sudden movement in the corner of my eye and saw Spike walking towards me.

>Lick yourself a ball of organobiotic glue, drenched with equine genome sequences and mechanised DNA tendrils. Inject sponsorship pixels through a binary needle. Mold a son, designed 2 expel annoying prototypologees and shifting character/floating nuances. Will you be happy then?

“What’s that for?” I asked Spike as he waddled up the stairs. On the end of his tail crumpled red and gold remains of something were impaled.

“Well, it was a gift for Moondancer,” he replied, taking in his claws what I could see now was a completely ruined box. I almost rolled my eyes at that. A stuffed toy fell from it, ruined too. “But…” he finished lamely.

“Oh, Spike, you know we don’t have time for that sort of thing.” The very fate of Equestria was at stake! I had to find that copy of “Predictions and Prophecies”, Nightmare Moon was about to return. And nopony seemed to care!

“No. No. No!” I muttered to myself in irritation each time my magic whisked a wrong book from the shelves.

The Elements of Harmony, the most powerful magic known to ponydom and they were the only thing that could thwart the disaster, apparently. An ancient instrument, its origins and principles of work might be a mystery, but the artifact’s potency was no secret. It was supposed to defeat any foe.

“No! No. No...” I muttered to myself in horror as I watched black tears stream down Cadence’s face.

Why didn’t they work? It was supposed to be so simple a mission: get to the Crystal Empire, use the Elements on the evil king, go back to trying to keep Equestria from falling apart. We even had Cadence and my brother with us… Then why did it go so wrong? I knew something was amiss. If only She was alive…

Everypony was utterly terrified, huddled together on the crystal floor, right behind my sister-in-law, before the sea of vile living shadows. The only thing preventing it from swallowing us was the magical shield cast by Cadence, a shimmering wall. But it wouldn’t last forever, the exertion caused by the spell was just as clearly written across her features as the pain – sweat mixing with the crimson blood of wounds and the black of the curse; shaking knees, about to buckle at any moment; the cracks in the gleaming sheet, appearing and then knitting themselves together more and more often, each time slower and weaker.

Then Cadence began to scream. It sounded like a howl of anguish, which echoed with whimpers of horror against my friends, until I realized that she was trying to yell, “Run”. My blood froze in my veins. How could we? I would rather take Cadence’s place than leave her there. But… what else could we do? The backlash from the Elements left us weakened, and I doubted I could do anything even if that hadn’t happened. We vastly underestimated how powerful Sombra’s magic was. And I was a scholar, not a battle mage. Nevertheless, it wasn’t my call to make.
.
>The need for optimum integration... To use the organic entity that I am... Caught in a pulse of wet media I like to be what I am... An architecture to serve agency... Living flesh with an inside and an outside... Bare speeding through virtual fever... An error has been detected in your consciousness... All her bioports scream long dark strings of unnamed code...

I gave Shining Armor a quick glance and flinched like I was hit. His face was contorted in the agony of a heart being torn apart – a fierce battle raged inside of him. A soldier was calling for the only reasonable thing in this situation – for retreat; a husband was threshing against any logic, because that meant leaving behind his beloved to the mercy of the most vile foe we ever knew.

He caught my eyes and in them I saw everything: the pain, the fury… the betrayal. The soldier won. It took all my will to not avert my gaze. In the corners of my vision I could see everypony and Spike looking at him with tears in their eyes. They waited for him to make the choice, though the tears betrayed that they already knew what it would be.

Shining dashed to Cadence, but stopped a mere length away from her, not wanting to risk disrupting her magic. He outstretched his hoof and it was met by the shaking pink wing.

“We will return, I promise,” he whispered loud enough for her to hear him over the roar of magic duel. “I will return!” he then bellowed to the darkness beyond the magic glow, to the glowing red, purple and green eyes in the heart of it.

And then I ran.
.
>incoherent vectors let the journey begin the way is misty hard to trace take soft slow steps accompanied by the unfettered laughing of mares
.
>resembling the body called flesh search for beauty without features stay on the path till you arrive be speechless no write no reason all sewn up and no place to go... city of ruined children

I blindly galloped through the dark corridors, bumping into the shadows inhabiting them. I ran from the darkness following my steps, from the nightmare which became reality. From the reality which became a nightmare. What was happening to me? Crystal halls mingled with rusty tunnels. Where was I? Corpses of those who had fallen to the dark magic and corpses of those who had fallen to the plights of the underground, almost indistinguishable save for the rare golden gleam of the equestrian armor, blackened by burns or cursed blood smeared across, or the rust covering everything in this cursed Empire of Death. The dark silhouettes, oscillating with shadow magic, unstable forms looking like ponies, knitted from an obsidian vapor. Some were like wraiths with eyes aglow, some were striped giants muttering in a broken language, some were like reanimated skeletons, they were all pushing me away, kicking me, soundlessly screaming at me. Down! Down the stairs, away from the Crystal Palace! Away from the underground! It was Sombra’s army around – greed and wickedness materialized into umbral equines to sow suffering. They were the ponies, zebras and equnoids of the Tunnels.
.
>The monochrome of the artificial blood vessel masses of flesh of the angel mechanism that transcends... the clone colts and fillies who suck the nude of the cyber be like the body fluid that electrolyzed it.
.
>I escape... the sensitive body of vision... you in the world that was done a junk from the blue machine of that sky is stored and see that does dive to the tragic reproduction nature of the clone colts and fillies that of our vital chromium...

I couldn’t grasp reality. Only the tiniest fraction of my consciousness was aware of something going terribly wrong with me. And even that part was like a candle in the storm, its flame flickering and madly dancing from the onslaught of madness, engulfing me from the inside and outside of the fevered nightmare I was having.
.
>Untitled ... phone system/ network as possible ... eclecticism and code-mixing ... our data sug ... Is Computer Hacking a ... Culture, Language, and Society. Menlo ... 0000. VIRUS Protection not found...

Where was Princess Luna when I needed her the most? She was supposed to deal with that, right? She had to know something about dark magic. We would have a chance with her, but she remained in Canterlot, scouring every corner of the Palace for changeling spies. And now she was dead, everypony was dead... Somepony screaming… Cadence… no… we left her, betrayed her, and now she was dead. The Princesses, all gone…

Something struck me, so hard that I was knocked down. That savage blow brought me a singular moment of clarity. A momentary respite from the phantasmagory which my world suddenly became.

“Will you shut the fuck up already?” an angry metal voice grated above me. “Fucking tinheads…”

It was me screaming all that time...

I was lying on the dirty floor, still somewhere in the Tunnels. I rose to my hooves, my limbs barely obeying my reeling mind. Everything swam before my eyes, from the blur I saw equine silhouettes around, they were all looking at me, blaming me. There were less of them than before. Was it Spike who spooked them away?

“Spike! Spiiike!” I called. Damn, I needed that book, I needed to warn them all… to save them…
.
>How can you pretend to resemble the body called flesh in this shattered universe? Don’t u see that the segments adrift in the network are injuring your sensible skin? Don’t you see you have NO FUTURE NON HAI FUTURO... THE PAST slowly kills us... The shadow of a hirsute code – first mare goddess is coming from the nights of time, she is following us through a line of blood cause she is hungry and she has to eat... There is No Escape Function... The modem is Burning... I’m looking for a white rabbit to eat but it is hiding... How can you pretend to resemble the body called flesh in this shattered universe?

I gasped as the rusted reality rushed back at me. I had to do something… I tried to take a step, but fell on the floor in the explosion of reddish dust. Everything seemed to slow down, every dark mote glistening, turning into a speck of blood. The red rained around me, deathly tears of all those who I had failed... Again, I propelled myself up, this time supporting myself with my hoof against the nearest wall. I glanced at it, a huge, worn out and discolored number “3” was painted on it. In my stupor I looked at it and the metal surface flickered, a wall of crystal taking its place. I had to run! Away from Sombra!

I ran from the murderous mare, who killed her father without a moment of hesitation. I turned back and saw a silhouette, the feral eyes, looking at me with murderous intent. Gore and blood dripping from the metal wings, gathering in a pool on the charred floor. Corpses strewn everywhere on the crystal floor… Sombra killed them all… so much blood, the walls, the floor, the ceiling – all red. Corroded, decaying… Rust was claiming Equestria, it was turning into ashes... I looked at my limbs, just as red, from the blood of the countless ponies I let down. Who would have known I could have failed...
.
>The massacre and reproduction of an artificial ant it inherited... the vision that was put to reflein of... instantaneous target ruin the terrible [__] condition/ of the love noise fly of the pituitary where hardened to together! God of et cetera... it beats... it beats comfortably... null of a gene. 012,345,678 Internal organ of a dog.

I stumbled, fell again. My hoof caught something. I turned to look and I shrieked in horror – they were my own internal organs! In a panic I began to try and grab them from the crystal floor with my hooves, but my limbs went through them… my hooves were dissolving into rust before my very eyes. I began to scream again, a shrill sound of metal twisted. The light flickered… it wasn’t my intestines, it was cables sparking and tubes leaking oil on the dirty rusty floor. My gaze dashed to my belly, but it was intact, the metal plates evenly aligned to each other.

Not bothering to stand up, I curled up where I fell, sobs without tears began to wreck my body. What was wrong with me? Nothing was making sense anymore. I was sure I was in the Crystal Palace, cursed by Sombra one moment, driven mad by dark magic, the next I was realizing I was hallucinating somewhere in the Tunnels for a reason unknown. And then all was gone, the line between reality and nightmares disappearing into nothing, leaving me drowning in insanity.

I noticed some black liquid pooling in the darkness before me at the same time as I heard a gurgle somewhere behind me. Alerted, I turned back and saw her again – Pepper Mercury, all covered in blood standing over a mangled agonizing body… a pink alicorn… Cadence… The steel-winged pegasus was gazing at me from the darkness with eyes full of hatred, glowing with red, green and purple flames. I scrambled to my hooves and began to run away.

I was dashing through the arched passages of the Crystal Palace, taking turns into the rusted tunnels, away from the death. After what felt like hours, I finally dared to glance back.

She was there, like I hadn’t moved at all. The gore-covered face grinned, flashing sharpened fangs and from under a bloodied wing the shining cylinder of a gun barrel appeared. I jumped away, but was too late – a shadowy wave of Sombra’s magic hit me like a train, sending me tumbling forward.

Not bothering about my fate anymore I lay on the floor in a tangle of limbs, sobbing, praying for that all to just end, no matter how. In the rare moments of lucidity I was trying to get up, but each time, before I could achieve something, my surroundings changed from blackened crystals to rusty metal, sending my senses into disarray.

Finally, the floor became concrete covered in red dust and it didn’t change for some time. Did it pass? Was it over? Unsteadily, I got up. I was in an empty narrow tunnel, illuminated by only two lamps, one flickering madly. Underneath it somepony stood. Or so I thought – a figure was there sometimes, appearing in the light far too briefly to discern any details. Then the light would blink and the pony would disappear, leaving the empty patch of the floor. The next flash of the broken lamp – a figure was there again.

I took a step back. The pony followed, I could see the movement in the dark, hear the heavy metal sound of hooves on the floor. Again I stepped back, and the dark form came into the light. I stood paralyzed, shaking so hard I could hear my body rattle.

A full-body bulky metal armor, twisted and burned, shining with a purple eerie glow from the tears and cracks. The wraith took another step, turning its side to me. A broken metal wing hung from it limply. Through a huge gash on the chest I could see charred flesh on the exposed yellow ribs. A huge torn gap on the back, showing semi-broken blackened vertebrae, gleaming with the same pulsing baleful purple light.

The pony just stood there for a few moments, the head concealed by a conical battered helmet turned to the wall, like the apparition forgot about my presence, if it was noticed in the first place. Then, unnaturally slowly the pony removed the helmet.

A pale, discolored face, furless, covered in burns and scars, with a dark webwork of black veins, and patches of necrosis. The nape absent at all, like it was torn away. Almost entirely burned away were the remains of the once polychromatic mane. Two empty eye sockets leaking pus met my eyes.

“Twilight,” Rainbow Dash rasped, “why did you kill me?”

>Untitled ... bulgara de virus ou como ... I’m hacking TECO.” Num ... text-only network channels, and ... nuances of language and very ... As in society at ... error code from ... new Data General ... etext.equ/Zines/ASCII/BeataElectrica/be00.txt - 61k - Cached - Similar pages >>>> Results 11 - 20 of about 3,830. Search took 0.39 seconds.

“Wow!” I heard Rainbow Dash say from somewhere in front of me. As always she was the first to escape the confines of the train cart. “What’s with all the guards?”

“I’m sure they are just taking the necessary precautions,” spoke Rarity who was near Rainbow – she had already exited the train along with Applejack, but I still waited my turn behind Pinkie and Fluttershy. “Royal weddings do bring out the strangest ponies.” And then Pinkie decided to stop at the entrance and sneeze confetti, ugh…

Finally, I could get out of the train. The others, however, didn’t wait and left me to catch up with them.

“Well, let’s get going, we’ve got work to do,” Rarity chirped and began to trot ahead, Rainbow, Pinkie and Fluttershy following her. She was quite familiar with Canterlot, so by unspoken agreement the fashionista took the mantle of guide, even though their destinations were a bit different. Only Applejack patiently waited for me.

“And you’ve got a big brother to go congratulate,” she said enthusiastically. Honestly, I would have prefered if she had followed the others.

“Yeah, congratulate.” My voice dripped with sarcasm I didn’t bother to contain. Now, when I was in Canterlot, my mood began to sour even further with each step. “And then give him a piece of my mind,” I said through my teeth as I passed betwixt two guards.

Actually, I relaxed a bit as I walked the streets of Canterlot alone. I loved my friends dearly, and I did appreciate their concern, but right now their support and sympathy felt like salt on a wound.
.
>Serial number # 30000768008, qty. order: 1, date of order: 00.00.00. Description: Subliminal Ltd.; distributions dept; blood media; adoredbody. Payment: half-life; Tartarus Bank Visa # 5291.1517.7719.6526 33102

As I was covering the distance between the train station and the palace, seething and imagining indignant things I was about to say to my brother, I began to note something strange about my surroundings. There were guards everywhere, that was something expected, surely. But where were the ponies? I saw a few silhouettes in the distance, but other than that, the usually lively alleys of Canterlot were absolutely deserted. Not even a sound – no music of alfresco cafes, no din and chatter of city breathing, living. Even the colors seemed to pale. No decorations. Had they decided to have a military wedding or something?

By the moment I reached the palace, I was more concerned than perplexed. Its halls, always crowded with a vast variety of personnel and nobles were empty and silent. I expected to find Shining Armor at the barracks, but they were desolate as well. Even the guard was absent, which I found very strange, ridiculous even.

I began to wander the palace passages aimlessly in hope of finding anypony who could point me the way to my brother, but to no avail. Alright, to Princess Celestia, then. She was always there and I wanted to see her anyway, though I didn’t want to bother my tutor with such simple things.

I was nearing the great doors of the throne room when I finally saw somepony in one of the adjacent passages – just a shadow and sound of metalclad hooves clopping against the marble floor. I tried to follow it, but no matter how fast I moved, the shadow’s owner was always out of sight. At some point I even galloped, but to no avail. A couple of times I caught a glimpse of a multicolored tail or of white coat. Was it Princess Celestia herself?
.
>When the thinking of 876,543,210 dogs is disillusioned at the sun our cadaver city the season when artificial ant iterates the grief of our cell that crowds to the coordinates of a cadaver city so erodes BODY of that is the script of clone colts and fillies to the chloroform and mystery, compact disk ROM and digital that paralyzed the dimension of sleep the vital... miracle junkie who was turned different...

Suddenly, the cold stone corridor opened up to a wide expanse of open sky and green garden. Absorbed in following that pony, I didn’t notice how I made it to the palace gardens. However, my mysterious guide was nowhere to be seen.

Ah, the gardens… Usually reserved for the princesses themselves they were always so peaceful and quiet, like an eye of a storm. How many times I had studied there, under the shadows of its beautiful trees, enjoying my solitude? But now I could see a small congregation of ponies in the distance, making some preparations for the wedding perhaps.

But as I neared the small crowd that guess seemed less and less probable. Ponies, some I even recognized as from the palace staff, stood still like statues, their expressions somber. What was happening? I couldn't see the reason of the gathering, but at the front rows I caught glimpses of my friends – Rainbow’s polychromatic mane had that effect.

Slowly and carefully, I made my way through the silent meeting. Before I even made it to my friends I saw the reason for the assemblage.

A casket.

An ornate, beautiful casket set at the respectful distance from rows and rows of ponies. All their eyes, which I only now noticed were wet with tears, were glued to a pony lying in it.

Princess Celestia.

She lay there, so peaceful and serene, as if she was merely asleep, which was only punctuated by the lack of the golden regalia. That reminded me of one time when I was just a filly, and I snuck into her chambers after the sunset, only to find her slumbering in the rays of the rising Moon. My mere presence woke her up and instead of chastising me she placated my worries and told me stories of her past, lulling me to sleep. Despite everything, I smiled.
.
>if ((light eq dark) && (dark eq light) && ($blaze_of_day{sun} == holy_light) && ($alabaster_wing{bright} == $tin{bright})){ my $love = $you = $cos{dawn} + 1; };

But then the realisation struck me. Princess Celestia. In the casket. That was impossible, she was a goddess, she was immortal! But the more I watched her immobile form the more real it was becoming.

Her mane didn’t flow anymore, the still strands were braided with flowers. The vibrant, and yet soft at the same time, colors of the dawn looked faded away, as if fog was obscuring the brilliance of a freshly born day. Even her pristine alabaster coat seemed dimmed, like the sun which always shone from inside her, through the immaculate white, had set. She looked so frail now, the Goddess of the Sun.

It couldn’t be real, yet it was.

Not caring anymore about the crowd, I galloped to my friends at the front row, pushing ponies from my path. Not a single complaint, nopony paid me any attention. Despite the tears streaking every face, not a single sob could be heard. Not a single sound, even the wind died, making the world mourn the setting of the Sun in absolute silence.

I looked at their faces, expressions of bottomless sorrow dominated all their features: Spike and Rarity gingerly holding his shoulder, Applejack with her hat in her hooves, Pinkie Pie with her mane straight, Fluttershy and Rainbow supporting each other… me with eyes bloodshot and hollow.

Wait… what? I was looking at myself standing amongst my friends, at the face with fur matted from the countless tears, at the messy mane of somepony who hadn’t slept in many nights. But if I was standing there, who was I? What was happening?

I looked over myself – limbs of metal, covered in scratches and rust. Black oil dripping on the lush green grass below. No…

I turned to the casket again, but it was empty. Bewildered, I swirled around, and right behind me She stood a few lengths away, a grand form against the crimson red sunset.

White fur covered with soot and speckled with fresh blood. A horn, black and cracked, though not broken. Mane and wings hanging limply. And those eyes, beautiful eyes. There was no disappointment, no blame in them, just the sadness, endless like Her beauty.

“Twilight,” Princess Celestia whispered, quietly and sorrowfully, “why did you let her kill me?”

I ran through the marble halls of the Royal Palace and the grimy concrete passages of the Tunnels, screaming, but from the pain this time, that one kind from which no matter what their body was made, a pony could never escape.

“By the Machine Goddess, what the fuck is wrong with you? Do you want to lure the Souleater here or something?” a voice grumbled.

A hard blow. Sweet oblivion.
.
>"I was your resonance," I remembered one of us saying.
>Disconnection ... protocol authentication ... end transmission

I awoke somewhere in the Tunnels, in a heap of garbage, my eyes fluttered open, their shutters jerking paroxysmally up and down. In the back of my mind, dozens of questions battled for dominance: where was I, how did I end up here, how much time had passed? But all I could think, all I could see was the ivory and gold casket bearing the dead Goddess.
.
>she says the stars are slowly disappearing light becoming dark she says it is only here that she can exist she says she is running blindfolded towards the ever brightful she says there is no beginning but a circle containing a gap for the unexpected to enter she says here there are intensities which she cannot begin to understand she says to her all things are less than zero

When did it happen? Yesterday? Yes, it always would be the yesterday. For me it was an event indifferent to calendars. Eons might pass, but everytime I would wake up, everytime I would close my eyes, it would be happening yesterday. A poison green ray of magic striking the Sun down. The last sunset. After it there was no night, no dreams, no nightmares. No day after. Just nothing. Nothing.

Shaking and swaying I rose to my hooves. “She is gone”, was the only thing I could think of. I was heading somewhere, running from something, wasn’t I? But what was the point? In a world without Her everything was pointless, even existence was a burden too heavy to bear. So why I was still alive? Ah, right, they told me not to do it. Every one of my friends came to me shortly after the funeral, pleading, asking to stay with them, no matter how hard it was. “Do it for Spike,” Rarity said, I remembered.

Spike, I just saw him, I needed something from him, a book, I think. Or did I? I wanted to ask him, but my attention was drawn to Applejack, who turned to me and began to speak.

“Thank you kindly, Twilight, for helping me out,” she said, her voice laden with gratitude, as we walked towards Sweet Apple Acres, baskets filled with apples on our backs. “I bet Big Macintosh I could get all these Golden Delicious in the barn by lunch time. If I win, he’s gonna walk down Stirrup Street in one of Granny’s girdles,” she finished with a guffaw.

“No problem at all, Applejack, but I’m glad the goal is lunchtime,” I replied and glanced at my basket, feeling the saliva gather in my mouth from the thick aroma of freshly picked apples. “All this hard work is making me hungry.”

“I know, right?” said Spike, who was sitting on my back, at the same time as the apple, carelessly thrown by him, hit my head. Momentarily I swirled my head back to deeply frown at his antics. I turned back to Applejack, searching my mind for the words of reprimand for my Number One Assistant, but all the thoughts had halted as Applejack scowled at me in fury.

“How could you, of all ponies, agree with her!” she yelled at me, desperately, on the verge of crying.

I glanced back at Rarity, regret and hurt clearly written on her face, but in her eyes, I could see hard resolve. I let out a deep sigh.
.
>My last life vision, before life absolution, was the silicon serpent smiling at my demise. This won’t hurt a bit. You can pinch each nerve and your fleshy, flimsy lip-gums willingly cry before my eyes.

I thought we had all agreed that it would be more helpful if Rarity alone was working on running the temporary government, while I was helping the war effort by running the research centre. And yet, I was recalled from my occupation, an important trial, no less, by that “urgent” meeting, as she put it. Despite everything, I somehow ended up making the final call.

“Listen, Applejack,” I carefully began. I could clearly understand her displeasure, at any other time I would have supported her point. But we were at war, and she would have to understand that the hardest decisions require the strongest wills. Sacrifices were to be made. “I get what you’re saying, but…” my voice trailed. I saw her blink away a tear. How could I put it? “You are doing a great job. The Ponyville Farm Unity is invaluable to the war effort.” But they were what they were, farms. The war needed not a tradition, the war demanded an industry to sate its growing appetite. “However, the frontlines need more provisions, and not just them – the workers have to be fed, too.” I paused. “You must understand.”

Applejack’s face was contorted by a tempest of emotions, tears, no longer being held, rolled down her cheeks. At the last, her expression settled on an angry scowl, her eyes filled with betrayal.

“But Flim and Flam, Twilight!” she yelled at me, now openly weeping. “Why them!?”

I flinched from the sheer power of her scream. It was a hard decision for me, surely. A fair question with a sad answer. Because nopony else wanted to? Because nopony else could? They might be mercantile to the bone, even vile at times, but at the end of day they were the only ponies who had any grasp on industrialization. Flim and Flam alone knew how to wrench more production than the soil could yield. How to make sacrifices in the name of profit.

So, an agreement was struck. Applejack would relinquish control over the confederacy she made of Ponyville’s farms to Flim and Flam. They would get freedom to control, though not fully, of course, any business they considered necessary and merge it into one single company to support the growing demand of the war. No doubt, they had their personal interests in all of that, and who knew how many bits would end up in their bottomless pockets. But they had a plan, actually a good looking one when it wasn’t too convoluted.

It took me too long to come up with this answer.

Applejack’s face melted from the blistering rage to an expression of utter defeat. She turned her head sharply to look at Rarity, but the alabaster unicorn was as stone-faced as before.

“Twilight, you…” Applejack sobbed. “You’ve doomed us all!”

>system :: In mathematical terminology, the events at the onset of self-organization are called "bifurcations." Bifurcations are mutations that occur at critical points in the "dynamic equilibrium" between physical forces – temperature, pressure, speed, morphology – when new configurations become energetically possible, and matter spontaneously adopts them.

Five. A number on the wall, layer after layer of paint peeling away, as if the rusty wall rejected it ceaselessly, no matter how hard the painters wanted to mark the surface. What did it mean? My five friends? Where were they, by the way? One moment we were all together, and now they were all gone. But I guess each of us had different goals set to achieve at the Grand Galloping Gala. I had mine too, but now, with Her being dead, it made no sense. Well, I guess there was some kind of a friendship lesson in that, but what was it worth if all my friends were dead too?

I glanced around. A tunnel, dimly lit, red smears marking the walls. Had to be the palace dungeons. Why was I there? Did I do something wrong? Oh, I remember now, I helped Fluttershy steal Philomena. And I killed Rainbow Dash, whoops. Was there a friendship lesson in that, too? “Don’t kill your friends, it’s bad.” I giggled at that. A great lesson indeed, I needed to send a letter to Her, she would love it. Where was Spike, again? Probably reading his comics somewhere or eating one-eyed, moth-winged prostitutes. What a mischievous little dragon he was!

I rose to my hooves and dusted myself. Well, it all was very lovely, but I needed to organize the books in my library or Archivarius would be so mad. I think I knocked down something when I was there the last time. A vase, or two. Or hundreds.

I trotted down the dungeon’s halls, humming a melody to myself, “Windigo wrap-up, windigo wrap-up~.” How curious, the other tenants of the dungeons weren’t in the cells, but I guess She was simply too kind to do that to them. I wish She wasn’t dead, we could eat a bowl of mildew together; a filly, couldn’t remember her name, told me it was the tastiest thing she ever ate.
.
>Subject: lure/id
><HTML> <TITLE>lurid communicator haunts the wires</TITLE> <HEAD> <META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> <META NAME="GENERATOR" CONTENT="error/4.0b3 [en] (error; I) [Netscape]"> <META NAME="Author" CONTENT="not found"> </HEAD> <BODY TEXT="#000000" BGCOLOR="#FF9191" LINK="#0000EE" VLINK="#551A8B" ALINK="#FF0000">

Finally, I saw a brightly lit room ahead of me. Giddy on my hooves I quickly covered the distance, hopping over the strewn bodies. They were all sleeping, and one of them had better visit a doctor – I was pretty sure necks weren’t supposed to bend that way. And another one didn’t have a head. How silly! You need one to eat and put your hat on, like Applejack.

As I entered the vast chamber many heads turned to me – all my friends, my brother along with a few elderly ponies I didn’t quite recognize. Others paid me no attention, Princess Luna amongst them, their eyes glued to the contents of a huge table which was taking up most of the room.

“We are all very glad you decided to come, Twilight,” Rarity chirped in a voice thick with laboured joy. She tried to smile, but failed. The weight of the reason why all these ponies gathered here was too much for any pleasance to exist in that room. Even Pinkie would have trouble genuinely smiling in the Hall of War.

Despite not being opened in centuries, the chamber fared pretty well and the palace staff did a great job bringing it to proper order so quickly, mere hours after we returned from the Crystal Empire.

I met the eyes of Shining Armor. With a neutral expression he nodded to me and returned to studying the table, or, rather, a huge map laid upon it, as I could now see. As if by a signal all the others turned to it as well. Slowly, I approached the table.

Upon a huge slab of ancient basalt, so old that it predated even Canterlot itself, paper was strewn everywhere. In the middle, a huge map of Equestria was neighbored by time-yellowed pieces of parchment depicting the lands adjacent to it. One piece stood out from them – a freshly sketched map of the Crystal Empire. On the edges of the tables countless other fresh pieces lay – reports, missives, orders not yet sent.

The moment Shining Armor turned back the table, the entire entourage of it was like a record player unpaused. The air above became filled with the din of argument, the ponies, the military officers, I realized, were proposing and objecting, agreeing and disagreeing. No matter how hard I tried, it was impossible for me to tune in. I glanced at my friends and saw that they, with the exception of Rainbow Dash, were having the same trouble, judging by their forlorn faces.

The clamor was ended by my brother, who banged his hoof on the table.

“As I said, it is possible to infiltrate the Crystal Palace with a small strike force and save Princess Cadence,” said Shining Armor, a wooden pointer in his hoof poking at the black image in the center of a circular outline of the northern Empire. His horn wasn’t healed completely yet, wrapped in a bandage. “But only if we act fast. We can expect resistance from the natives against Sombra for some time, before he gains full control of the Empire. That will allow us to reach the palace without much trouble.” His pointer moved to another side of the palace. “But only if the strike force can be supported by another which will draw all the attention to it. Princess Luna will lead it.”

The Princess of the Night, I realized, stood silent all that time, looming over the map, but not looking at it, her vacant expression pointed through the window to some place outside, maybe even beyond the visible reality.

“No,” Princess Luna said in a hard emotionless voice. The air itself felt like it was cut by the sharpness of that reply. The room fell absolutely silent, not a single sound, not even a ragged breath of elderly ponies could be heard.

Shining Armor opened his mouth and but thought better of it. There was a look written all over Princess Luna’s features, which was bearing a simple statement “One dares not question a god.”

“I’m taking two entire platoons of the Royal Guard and scouring the Badlands until the changeling threat is completely eliminated,” she spoke again as if simply stating the obvious. However, it was said in a such horrible, cold way, that I heard only, “I’m going to hunt down all the changeling filth and slay each of them, and everything that tries to stand in my way will follow suit.”

One of the generals, either exceedingly foolish or incredibly brave asked in a shaking voice, “But what about the Crystal Empire? What about…” his words trailed off as he glanced at Shining Armor.

“Do whatever you want,” she all but spat at the table, not even caring to look at the pony who just spoke. She didn’t look at anypony, as if not acknowledging our existence at all, she just turned and stormed out of the room.

However, I managed to catch her eyes, cold, dark and dreadfully familiar… with the irises slightly sharpened.

When Princess Luna left the room, I for the first time realized that it was sunny outside; before, the entire chamber was almost submerged in gloom.

An uneasy silence hung in the air.

“What are we going to do now, my Prince?” another general asked. There were so many questions and answers in that simple phrase. My brother didn’t answer immediately.

“The operation can proceed without Her Majesty’s help,” he finally replied, still deep in thought. “We will just use more soldiers.”

“But won’t that be a declaration of war?” inquired a young officer.

“We,” Shining Armor looked at me with eyes full of blame, “are already at war.”

>Extract from walk1/start.pl my $walk1_beat=0; my $foo; sub on_clock { return if($foo++ % 4); $beat = $walk1_beat + 1; if (($beat-1)%4 eq 0) { playnote(7,47+$pitches[$bassctr]-(int($beat/4)*12)) # on-beat } if (($beat-1)%3 eq 0) { playnote(7,35+$pitches[$bassctr]-(int($beat/6)*12)) # syncopate! } for (0..$#pitches) { if (abs($beats[$_]) eq $beat) { playnote($_+1,59+$pitches[$_]); } }

Drip-drop.

Water from the ceiling was falling, measuring the time. The problem was, I couldn’t tell how much time it took a droplet to gather and plummet down towards its inevitable demise. Now, thinking of that, I forgot how many drops I had already counted. Um... three? Three dozen? Three thousand?

The leak on the ceiling, or maybe it was just condensation, was showering a corpse lying below. I couldn’t remember if it had always been in front of where I lay, but it had been rotting there for a long time. Rats and maggots did a great job of stripping it of any identity. Smelling red, it was of average size, and in the heap of bones, half-rotten and half-eaten flesh, I couldn’t see the remains of wings or a horn protruding from the bleached skull, but they could still be there, in that delicious pile of treasure. A perfect specimen, nopony and everypony at once. It might even be a zebra. Even a young alicorn.

It could.

Even.

Be.

ME.
.
>system :: A centuries-old devotion to "conservative systems" (physical systems that are isolated from their surroundings) is giving way to the realization that most organic and non-organic systems are subject to flows of matter and energy that continuously move through them.

I mean, I was dead, right? Right? He-heh. I didn’t have a heart, I didn’t breathe. I didn’t even have flesh. What was I if not a dead pony? I certainly wasn’t a living one. Ponies are either dead or alive, there is no between. It was so simple, so beautiful, that I began to laugh.
.
>To subscribe, send to: [email protected] with the message: subscribe spiritd-l. SPIRITD-L is a _fully-moderated_ email list for the dead. In order to post, you must send to the comoderator, [email protected], proof that you are dead – either an obituary in a legitimate newspaper, or a copy, hopefully notarized, of the death certificate itself.

And if we both were dead, both without identity, we could just swap, nothing would change, on the physical level. And if I did it, then I would become that corpse, and if that corpse could be anypony, I would be, let’s say, hehehe… Rainbow Dash! That would mean that I would no longer be a murderer, because Rainbow didn’t kill anypony… oh, waaaait. She probably killed lots of ponies, but I’m sure they were the bad ones. Right? Right, killing bad ponies didn’t count. Because they were bad, that is. But most importantly, she didn’t kill her friends, didn’t let Her die and didn’t betray Cadence.

A great deal, I would say.

I rose on my dead hooves, moved my dead body to that perfect carcass, grinning wildly. What a day! What a wonderful day! I could finally get salvation. I always knew it could be found only in death. Like redemption. Like absolution. I would become that nice fleshy worm chow and then I would really die. I began to sing.

“We will talk about the death, and what I’ve learned and killed~ It is going to be so special~ Just Her and me~”

Wa-wa-wa-wait! Shucks, I forgot I was going to Tartarus. I murdered my friend, started a war, let everypony down. Such ponies didn’t go to nice places, no-no, they went to where all naughty ponies went – to the future! I didn’t like the future, it tasted too loud.
.
<HTML> <HEAD><TITLE>mess-htm</TITLE> </HEAD> <BODY TEXT="#830C23" BGCOLOR="#000080" LINK="#0000EE" VLINK="#551A8B" ALINK="#FF0000"><--! deliberately alphabeticalized / ruined code recuperated: read in text-based browser --> <A HREF="messed-body-htm">mess-</A>j

But! If I were to become Rainbow Dash, I wouldn’t be that nasty, nasty Twilight Sparkle, right? I would go to…to... um, where did nice ponies go? The Grand Galloping Gala? Fine by me. But wait! I would be Rainbow Dash, so did it mean I would have to fly with Wonderbolts and stuff? That wouldn’t do, nope, I wanted to finally be with Her! Oof, what a conundrum: whose corpse would I have to become to be with Her?

Idea~
.
>1 xenyn-eid-E0-1.nyc.access.net (198.7.0.126) 2ms 2ms 3ms 2 tp1-S4-T1.nyc.access.net (166.84.64.42) 4ms 4ms 4ms 3 tp1-E0E1.nyc.pixnet.net (166.84.64.254) 4ms 4ms 6ms 4 netaxs-gw-H0-T3.pixnet.net (166.84.64.46) 7ms 8ms 8ms 2

I would take Princess Luna’s identity! Huzzuh! Hehehe. She was dead too, after all. Everypony was dead, so many options to choose. But wouldn’t it be weird? I mean, Luna was her sister, that would be pretty awk~ ward~

Anyway!

I loomed over the rotting carcass, the maggots, unlike rats, were unperturbed in their lascivious feast by my cackling shadow. What was I supposed to do, again? How did one swap corpses? A spell? Did I have to tear the glittering things out of me and sprinkle them over that sweet meat? You know, the magic. Hehehe.

I loomed over the corpse just enjoying the wriggling dance of the worms in the pus. Should I ask them to help me? Aww... But they were so beautiful, so busy in their splendid craft of nothing.

“Going to steal another body, aren’t you?” a voice called from my side.

I slowly turned my head to its source, and jerked with a shriek from what I saw. It was… me! I felt my madness abating to a semi-lucid state there I was realising that crouching over the random corpses laughing wasn’t fine. But I still had to be hallucinating, because I was looking at nothing but my old body, the one I left slumped, lifeless, at the Archives... or did I?

Oh… Oooooh. Oh no. She found me. So bad.

Rusted, damaged from my misadventures, wrapped in bloodied rags, it… she… was gazing at me with her single eye. The original, true Twilight Sparkle took a step towards me. I remembered – I was an imposter, a thief. I was dead because I never lived.
.
>system protocols :: Connection type: Standard phone line. Typical speed (thousands of bits transmitted per second): 28.8-52.0 ISDN 128 Cable modem 1,500 DSL (as proposed) 1,500.

“Didn’t like it, did you?” she, asked, smirking. “Comes with a lot of burdens, I know. So much blood can’t be washed away with anything and machine oil can’t hide it either.”

“I… I didn’t... s-steal...” my voice stummered. Twilight dashed to me like lightning, there was barely any movement, but stopped a mere breath away from my face. I could see the oil drip from the broken eye, the other shining like a star, cold and lifeless.

“I know you think you didn’t, except, well, you did. A random filly told you that it was alright, so that theft wasn’t wrong. Sounds fair, right?” she said, with the venom of sharp sarcasm in her voice. “But I have a better question…” she chuckled.

Twilight circled around me in a single fluid motion, like a serpent, and in a moment she was at my ear, as if she wasn’t moving through the air, but rather materializing where she wished.

“You go around, stealing bodies, taking identities…” I stood petrified, listening to her mouth pressed to my ear. “So, what makes you better than…” she whispered, with another chuckle, “Queen Chrysalis?”

I fell to the floor, struck by that name. But it was nonsense!

“You kill, you betray, you start wars. And now you steal identities,” she said somewhere above me, and then I felt her coming closer. “Are you sure you are not her, hm?”

I began to thrash on the floor in agony, charcoal black limbs poked with holes appearing in emerald flames before my eyes. They were my limbs.

It couldn’t be true. Princess Luna killed her. She was no more. If she was dead, I couldn’t be her. I couldn’t be a dea… The understanding struck me. I was deceived. I was cheated. I didn’t want to be dead anymore!

“I don’t want to be dead!” I wailed. “I’m not her!” I screamed. “I’M NOT DEAD!” But Twilight only laughed.

“Then who are you?” she whispered in my ear.
.
>RESEMBLING THE BODY CALLED FLESH SEGMENTS THAT HAVE BEEN SET INTO MOTION AS TRACE, TRACE WHICH STAINS STAINS ROAMING NEW MEMORY SYSTEMS IN SEARCH OF A PLACE TO REST THE STORM IS HERE THE WIND FROM BELOW IS COMING TIME FOR A NEW R/REALITY

I scrambled to my hooves and tried to run, but was stopped frozen in my tracks. Right in front of me Rainbow Dash sat, clad in the charred and broken armor, gazing at me lifelessly with the empty eye sockets.

“Who are you?” she rasped with burned lips, the sound of dry leather against ashes.

A murderer.

I turned to run in another direction, but in front of me Cadence sat, crouched, bleeding. A film of pitch black covered her eyes, black tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Who are you?” she whispered, sobbing, whimpering from pain, shivering.

A traitor.

Again, I turned and a grand white form, covered in soot and blood, arose in front of me.

“Who are you?” She asked, looking at me with all the beauty and sadness in the world.

A failure.
.
>system parameters :: Three distinct entities inhabiting phase space. [1] specific trajectories (corresponding to systems in the actual world); [2] attractors (corresponding to the long-term tendencies of these systems); [3] bifurcation events (corresponding to the emergence in these systems of new structural tendencies).

Surrounded from all sides but one, I turned in the only direction left, but Twilight already awaited me there.

The real Twilight, made from flesh and bone. She wasn’t looking at me maliciously. She gazed at me calmly, with empathy.

“Canterlot can engulf the entire globe, but it will never be big enough for you to run away from yourself,” she said quietly and sorrowfully. “You can vanish for another half of a millennium or even many times more and then wake up again, but the past won’t go away; it will never be far enough to disappear.”
.
>...adrift in the network resembling the body called flesh are packets of soft recognition…
.
>System message
>Safety threat is detected
>Incurable
>Starting purge
>WARNING!
>Code is unstable
>Magical anomaly detected
>Anomaly is too large to be fixed, deletion will cause entity failure
>Starting integration
>Starting code rewrite

The world began to swim before my eyes, the soft soothing shadows engulfing me.

>In a moment you become transparent and I embrace your framework, a red skeleton as a radiography, I pass across yourselves and then the place comes tumbling down, I lose you between the ruins, I do not see anything, not anything else.

I stood at the flying strip, a faint breeze playing with my mane. Through the clouds H… the sun shone shyly. All around I was surrounded by ponies in lab coats, Moondancer by my side, Rainbow Dash in front of me, already in the arcanium armor.

“Stop running from yourself,” she said with a serene smile, encouragement twinkling in her magenta eyes.

I stood at the Archives, looking at the machine made to look like Twilight Sparkle, but nothing more. I didn’t breathe, I had no heart inside my body, no flesh. And yet, I was alive.
.
>Purging threat...
>Proceeding magical anomaly integration in program code … 23,3% done...

I glanced at the crystal clear azure sky, the noon sun shining forth, bathing the orchards in gold. The aroma of the freshly picked apples was so thick I jokingly thought I would suffocate. I mopped my brow – working at Sweet Apple Acres was sure taxing.

“It ain’t the mistakes that define us, sugarcube,” Applejack said with a wink, nudging my shoulder.

I was hugging a lonely filly, who did unimaginable, some would say even unspeakable things. She brought a pony lost to the river of time back to reality, yanked a mare from oblivion to walk amongst the living once again. I was hugging a prodigy, a genius.
.
>Purging threat...
>Proceeding magical anomaly integration in program code … 42,7% done...

I sat in the palace gardens, ancient beautiful statues basking in the sun around me and the branches of an oak tree swaying above my head. Cadence crouched and with her hoof removed a fallen leaf from the pages of book I held open in my hooves. “Predictions and prophecies”, but I wouldn’t read it today, I decided, better to play a tag-game with Cadence.

“Accept yourself the way you are,” she told me in a soft, kind tone, smiling gently.

I stood over a mare, a one-eyed pegasus, who peered at me from behind a curtain of periwinkle hair, shivered from the horror on the cold floor, smeared with freshly spilled blood just like I was. She feared me. But she was safe.
.
>Purging threat...
>Proceeding magical anomaly integration in program code… 67,1% done...

I lay huddled in the curve of Princess Celestia’s side, where I spent all the night listening to her enchanting stories. Through the open window of the Royal Chamber’s balcony I watched the sun being risen by her magic, the majestic ivory horn aglow with the sunlight itself as it seemed. By a foolish whim, I glanced at the sun momentarily. It was so brilliant. Blinding and yet showing the truth. Princess Celestia looked into my eyes through time, from the yesterday. Smiling, she brushed a tear away from my cheek and spoke in a motherly voice.

“And wake up. ”

After five long centuries, a new day had finally arrived.
.
>System message
>The safety threat was eliminated.
>Magical anomaly integration in program code complete.
>Commencing system restart in 3… 2… 1...

Author's Notes:
This chapter was brought to you by mixing my depresion and inspiration, spirinkling it with the best from Pinkamena Party albums. I hope you enjoyed that journey into the insanity as much as I did.
On the serious note, from all the chapters I've written I'm content the most with this one, even proud of it.
The proofreaders are almost finished working on chapter 9, so you may expect it in three weeks or so. I'm finishing chapter 10 – it is basically done, but I would like to rewrite the last eight pages a bit. The rest is completely readable and ready to be edited. I also started working on chapter 11, but so far it's only a few pages.
I didn't forget about the side story I have promised – I'm a few thousands words in it, but so far I'm not really happy with it, so it may take a while. The same goes to the second clopfic I'm working on.
I'm going to adress it all more deeply in my next blog which I'll post in a week.
Aftersound Project Discord server – join today! Help Aftersound grow and prevail! This story needs YOU!
As usual, I appreciate any feedback, and if you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know.
I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.
Stay awesome.

Chapter 9 – Faithful and Strong

Aftersound

=================================

Written by:

Flutterfinar & Geka

Preread and edited by:

Cover art done by:

=================================

Faithful and Strong

====================

I opened my eyes.

The image of a dimly lit grimy wall filled my vision. The floor below me shared affinity in appearance with its vertically oriented concrete kin. With dust scrunching under my metal spine, I rolled onto my back. The ceiling was no different, except for the dark spots of moisture being much more noticable.

It should have seemed a miserable sight, and yet I was reveling in it, because it wasn’t changing. My gaze lazily studied every crack, every pockmark, every stain of rust on the once grey surface. They weren’t turning into darkened crystal facets or swirling patterns of marble. Minutes passed by as I simply stared forward and the Tunnels stayed the same. For the first time I was glad to see their rot.

My surroundings not only remained constant at this very moment. Not taking in the intensity and proportions of decay, in essence, the underground had barely changed since I had dived into it again. Though, I couldn’t say so about myself.

I somehow felt different in all aspects. The delirium which plagued my mind was gone, however, it didn’t leave me broken and devastated. Instead, my consciousness was in a state of nearly absolute clarity. The hallucinations I experienced felt like something told to me by another pony, something that I could remember, but not experience.

When I woke up from my centuries long slumber in Flower’s shack, the shadows tried to overrule my mind. The crystal with the rest of my memories didn’t make them disappear like a bad dream in the morning, no, that darkness just abated temporarily, because it was but the memories I refused to remember. And in these Tunnels, they made their return. Though I still didn’t know what served as a catalyst for that violent living nightmare, I had the answer to the question of why it had happened. The darkness belonged to me, just as I belonged to it.

The eclipse of my mind didn’t begin in the Tunnels, I let it happen the moment Princess Celestia fell victim to Queen Chrysalis’s strike. I was the sole author of my insanity and what I had just gone through was an apotheosis, the rock bottom of it.

This is why Twilight, why I, from that recording sounded so bitter. Back then I failed to face myself over and over. I was too scared. And I was sure this was why I attempted the transference – to run away from what I was, from what I am.

Now, for the first time, not just in recent days, but in years, I was ready to accept and put the past behind me and start living not in the future, but in the present.

I even felt my body differently now. Before, I was like a puppeteer, my mind pulling the strings of my artificial body, but in truth disconnected from it. Now, I felt it as an extension of my consciousness. As if through skin, I felt the subtle, chilly, foul drafts crawling upon the floor. I felt the grit in my joints. I felt each and every metal plate of my body, every screw, every tube. I was whole with my body.

And I felt the magic.

Not just a wonky coil coursing between my arcanium horn and the memory crystals, the magic now was in my very bones of metal, as if I was alive again. The subtle breath of another reality within and invisible, the intricate convergence and divergence of the leylines, the arcane hum of the world’s most beautiful and powerful melody.

Without thinking, because I knew what the result would be, I cast a spell, the simple sorcery of illumination.

The orb of light on the tip of my horn easily eclipsed the weak glow of the lamp on the wall, flooding the corridor with violet brilliance. I let it linger there, enjoying the feeling of magic embracing my body, like an old friend who had just returned from a long journey.

I was whole again, I was Twilight Sparkle.

Trying to understand where I was sounded like a very good start, probably the best course of action I could take. The only information related to the Tunnels which I could recall from my fevered stumble through the underground was that I had descended to the deeper parts of it. The numbers I had seen must be marking the floors. The question was: on which one was I now?

I rose to my hooves and looked around. The tunnel was poorly illuminated even though all the lamps were intact. It was quite narrow – any more than three ponies across would be brushing their shoulders together. The concrete walls with damp patches and rust stains – nothing conceptually new, though the moisture found here was much more abundant than at the first level of the underground. Strangely, no smell, except that of dampness with a slight scent of mold. And not a single equine, metal or not, in sight.

Was it because of Spike? Did I somehow end up near the place where he dwelled? Or was it so deserted because of how deep I was?

On the wall not so far away I saw lines, too straight and defined to be left by a leak from the ceiling or natural surrender of concrete to the onslaught of time. I trotted towards the spot, slowly and carefully. Even with nopony in my sight, I decided that being as unnoticeable as possible was reasonable. But, because of the emptiness, the tunnel was acting like a huge echo chamber, making my every metal step sound like a clap of thunder amidst the rain of leakages.

Seven. Somehow, I got to the seventh level of the Tunnels. Never before in my life had I been so deep underground. The thought of the sheer mass of stone above my head made me feel uneasy. Besides discovering the number of the level, I also found out that what I first took for a shadow on the wall next to the number was in fact an entrance to a spiral staircase. It led only upwards.

I had a choice. On one hoof, the lack of ponies and equinoids on this floor was quite comforting. On the other, I still had no map and no directions and the Tunnel dwellers were the only ones who could help me fix that. It was not as much of a desperate situation, but it was a rather annoying one.

I stood in front of the black maw of the staircase, so absorbed in weighing my options that I only noticed somepony descending it when the sound of metal hooves clopping against the steps was joined by approaching light. My own eyes darted around in panic. Should I wait for them? Should I run away? But it was too late for any action, except to let the situation unfold itself.

Bathed in the golden shining light of their own illumination spell, the stranger stepped into my sight. At first I couldn’t believe my eyes – it actually wasn’t a pony, it was an equinoid!

The equinoid had the constitution of a stallion with broad shoulders and a square jaw. The metal plating sparsely covering his body looked old and worn; not rusty, though still darkened either from time or oil. I instantly noted silver patches on his joints, this equinoid obviously walked around quite a lot. Another interesting thing was that not only did his eyes shine with a golden-yellowish light, but most of his body also did through the gaps in the plating of his inner parts. Despite not being very bright, that glow was effectively casting away the shadows around him along with his spell, thus giving him the appearance of a pony who brought a sliver of sunlight to the paths under the ground, so whoever lived here could witness the dawn.

And his luminous golden eyes were intensely studying me.

“On behalf of the Church of the Machine Goddess, I, Alnico Sermon, welcome you, newcomer. What brings you to our parts?” the equinoid asked kindly, without a hint of malice or deceit. His voice sounded sonorous, every word like a proclamation on its own.

So, I had not only met another follower of this worrisome cult, but I had apparently ended up on their grounds. And on top of that, he was an equinoid capable of using magic, something I was witnessing for the first time and thought to be impossible before.

“How do you know I am a newcomer?” I inquired in return, with a bit more apprehension than I wanted. Despite his amiable attitude, I didn’t really want to have any business with the Church.

“I know all my flock of souls by their faces, and yours isn’t one of them. Judging by how old your frame’s model is and its almost mint fresh condition you are new to the Tunnels as well.” Alnico’s eyes peered at me as if he was attempting to read my mind. To my horror I realized that I couldn’t deny the possibility of that.

There was no hospitality in his steady gaze anymore. The situation had become touchy, and I wasn’t keen on learning more about his magic prowess, not the hard way. Hoping that I was wrong about his ability to uncover my thoughts and my expression didn’t betray my slight panic, I decided to improvise.

“I have actually been seeking your Church, but lost my way,” I lied. Where was that token Brass Litany gave to me?

“Many lose their way in Canterlot,” nodded Alnico thoughtfully while I fumbled with the compartment in my chest cavity, “but not those who follow the path laid for us by the Machine Goddess.” What was he trying to imply by that? Was he inсiting me to do so? Or discriminating against me because I apparently didn’t?

“I met such a pony, Brass Litany,” I said with the token finally in my hoof, dangling in the air from my outstretched limb. Alnico picked it from the air with his magic, the magelight spell going out. It wasn’t a sign of strong magic ability; most adult unicorns would be capable of maintaining a few simple spells at the same time. Interesting. “She told me there was something wrong with my crystals and that I should seek help at the Church,” I added.

“Brass Litany…” Alnico hummed, as if tasting the sound of her name on his proverbial tongue. “I think I remember her… yes, a good equinoid, pious and unrelenting.” Finally, he stopped studying the token and looked right at me, a bit differently than before, with some kind of approval. Now it felt like he was actually welcoming me here. “She wouldn’t give it to just anyone. She saw a sister in you.”

His choice of words affronted my ear – “anyone”, not “anypony”.

“I met her at the Edge, she found me in the local Tunnels and helped me,” I explained, deciding not to mention the finer details, like how I ended up there in the first place and where I went right after.

“She, like any faithful equinoid, won’t leave one of our kin behind, follower or not. Neither will I. To reach Unity with our Goddess, we first must achieve it amongst ourselves.” With those words Alnico walked towards me and then by. “Follow,” he said over his shoulder.

Once again, I remembered that I actually wanted to avoid any interactions with this fanatical cult. And Delight severely warned me about them too. But at the moment, it seemed like the best option to me. The token granted me some sort of protection, not to mention that “problem with the crystals” wasn’t actually a lie – I just had a bout of hallucinations, which I still didn’t know the cause of. Also, I was sure the Church was bound to have a map.

As I followed Alnico Sermon, my thoughts began to drift as I was excavating the knowledge which I never expected to use from the depths of my memory.

Back in my past, there were no official churches or cults in Equestria. Not that there were a lot of attempts to organize any, with a single exception for the Goddess of the Sun. Princess Celestia was strongly against ponies worshipping her, though it never stopped them from trying every few decades. Funnily, Princess Luna didn’t mind ponies treating her like a goddess, but under pressure from her sister she had to forbid that. Every so often evidence of an ancient group still devoted to Nightmare Moon would appear, though Princess Celestia didn’t think of them as much of a threat, nor could she really do anything with them, since they usually originated from Stalliongrad. However, the Royal Sisters weren’t the only targets for potential worshippers amongst ponies.

The ponies from distant settlements, worshipping artifacts thought to be long lost, were a surprisingly common issue. Those who followed other god-like entities of this vast world decided to become missionaries, and roamed Equestria in thankfully modest numbers, but even they could have become an issue. The ponies who, like the rams and goats, served the Elder Ones, those eldritch ancient abominations, readily practiced sacrifices, so they were usually considered criminals a priori. The devotees of the Dune Dervishes, who brought their faith from Saddle Arabia, weren’t welcome either, mostly because the reclusive desert nation relied on assassins as the main tool of international politics.

So, because basically no religious organizations were accepted in Equestria, my knowledge was quite limited in that area. The Machine Goddess didn’t ring any bells for me, though I really doubted she came to existence before the appearance of artificial life. Was she like the Thousand Tentacled God slumbering in the Deep who was believed to watch over Old Seaquestria? An entity existing, but not actively participating in the life of its believers? Or was she like the Elder Ones, unseen, yet granting great power for a price paid in blood? Or like the Princesses, walking amongst the mortals? A good question. And it seemed I might learn the answer very soon.

The Tunnels, through which I followed Alnico Sermon, weren’t so empty anymore. Equinoids, and only them, could be seen coming from the adjacent passages to the straight corridor we traversed. While none of them joined our company of two, a lot of the metal underground dwellers followed the same path that we did, trotting either behind us or in front.

After about a quarter of an hour of a reserved trot we came to a widening in the tunnel, a junction of some sort with an entrance, which seemed to be a destination for many. A grand arch, ornate with cogs, melted into the concrete or carved from it, led to the grand hall beyond, which was illuminated by innumerable little lights scattered across the walls, the furniture and even the floor.

“A service is about to start, sister,” Alnico Sermon said turning to me, diverting my attention back to him. “After it’s ended a technopriest will see to your needs.” And then he left me in the middle of the junction, disappearing in the dim room beyond the arch.

I had no idea what it meant – some sort of a ritual or procedure, I guessed. I was left no choice, but to follow Alnico Sermon and see what all this was about.

I dove into the mass of equinoids moving towards the arch, and for a moment I was lost amongst dozens of shimmering backs and swinging manes made of wires and cables. When I emerged from the crowd, I was inside a chapel.

The first thing that I noted, even when I was scraping my shoulders against the bodies of others, was the smell: the heavy, thick aroma of machine oil heated up almost to a boiling point. But it didn’t dominate the air alone – a sharp scent of solder was strangely contrasting and harmonizing at the same time with a crisp spicy fragrance of galipot. All three of those aromas were so strong that a dove-colored vapor was twirling above the high ceiling, faintly glowing from countless small sources of light.

The crystals – small gemstones were strewn everywhere. As I focused my attention on them, I realized that they were actually just shards, not a single one was whole, but each with a label hanging from a thin chain, with a word or two scribbled on it. Names. The realization came like a blow. The “soul vessels”, Brass Litany called them. The enchanted gems, containing memories, the essence of who it was. For equinoids, bodies didn’t really matter, they could be replaced; as long as the crystals were intact their owner was practically immortal. I stood in the middle of a reliquary, every horizontal surface covered with what were the remains of equinoids who were lost forever when their crystals shattered. And yet they shone, like stars, for those who still lived, illuminating their path. There was a great beauty and sadness in that.

The furniture, consisting of shelves and pedestals weren’t the resting place for the broken hearts of artificial ponies alone. Schematics, blueprints, calculations, even arcane formulas stood framed, lit up by the polychromance of the dead. Limbs, engines, enchantments. And yet that place didn’t seem like a mechanic’s shop; more like a museum. I wondered if some of those schemes were actually the depictions of those who now illumed them.

Eventually, my eyes were drawn to the furthest wall from the entrance, and I froze where I stood, my mouth agape. I was looking at what could only be a depiction of the Holy Machine Goddess.

A statue made from silvery metal, three lengths tall stood there, radiated with what seemed to be the light of at least half the crystal shards in the chapel. But it was neither the light nor the size which filled me with overwhelming awe. It was the sheer beauty, the obviously visible amount of artistic merit that went into creating it. I was looking at a mare not simply molded, but chiseled and polished from an entire piece of metal. The detail of the Machine Goddess’ image was beyond what could be created by a mere pony – only a being able to live longer than any mortal and hone its craft all that time could be capable of creating such a masterpiece.

Her head tilted upwards with eyes closed, front limbs crossed upon the chest. The lower half of her body, however… it seemed be frozen in the middle of being shattered into countless small parts, slivers of metal flesh, each razor sharp. Whoever created that statue managed to so accurately depict the expression of serene resignation to pain that for a single bizarre moment I thought I was looking at a live pony. Two single tears from shut eyelids traced shining paths across the Goddess’ cheeks’ perfect curves, down to her smile, strained and peaceful at the same time. Her mane, made from wires and cables molded from the same silvery metal as her body, was interweaving into a golden halo, which circled her entire figure. She held her lithe, delicate hooves to her chest tightly, as if having a bout of heartache. At the joints of her neck and hooves, gaps filled with polished gold were shining, as if the sun itself shone from inside the Goddess. But the most miraculous thing about the Machine Goddess’ image was the way she was suspended in the air – absolutely unnaturally still. No wires, no magic glow, and yet, her body and the numerous shards were absolutely unmovable in the air, as if the idol was something so solid that time and space moved around it.

I might not know a single thing about the Machine Goddess, but I could already see why so many believed in her. I had witnessed goddesses more than once, and if that depiction was true, than the Machine one wasn’t far from them. She was an embodiment of what equinoids were. The beauty of infinite creation and sadness of ceaseless oppression.

I was so engrossed in marveling at the statue, I failed to notice a congregation assembling itself around me. The equinoids, dozens of them, filled the grand hall to the brim, every pair of glowing eyes focused on a small elevated podium right before the statue. The already low murmur, which strangely sounded like a mix of voices, bird’s chirps and grating of metal, stopped altogether as two hooded figures appeared from somewhere on the left, a veiled entrance in the corner I had noticed only now. With their muzzles cast downward, they moved slowly but surely on three hooves, their front right ones carrying round metal balls swinging on chains. Those were porous spheres of formidable craftsmanship, which with each deliberately slow sway left trails of bluish smoke and occasionally sent brilliant droplets of molten solder soaring through the murky air to the floor or even at the equinoids in the front rows.

The two equinoids made a full circle and returned into the recesses of the chapel, and another, familiar equinoid took their place at the podium – Alnico Sermon.

“Brothers and sisters,” he called, his reverberating clear voice coming as if from the walls themselves – I was sure magic was involved. “Today we have gathered together before our Holy Mother to remember!” Then there was a pause filled with poignant silence disturbed only by the faintest sounds of mechanical bodies living – the rustle of a fan, steady beating of a pump, groan of old stiff limbs.

“The Machine Goddess was but a pony once!” Again, a pause made to leave room for those words to be digested. That speech had already caught my interest, it was a turn of events I didn’t really anticipate. “And even then she stood apart from her kin, for she wasn’t as weak as them, no, she was great in the mastery of mind and magic.” A powerful mage? That was more or less obvious. But who? I couldn’t remember somepony outstandingly powerful from my times. Wait… A memory, a revelation which was born in my mind shortly before the onslaught of the nightmares, something I tried to forget, resurfaced in my mind. Horrified, I continued to listen, fearing now to learn who that pony was.

“But her brethren, shallow and wicked, envied her, and so they betrayed our Goddess!” Alnico continued, oblivious to my trepidation. “They blinded her, so she could create no more, they cast her away, like the ponies cast away all things broken. They even erased her name from history, vainly hoping to bring our Goddess to the truest of all deaths – oblivion itself!” Normally, learning about a pony being blinded and exiled would fill me with pity and righteousness, but it was only an immense relief that washed over me. Letting out the breath I was holding despite any logic, I looked around and saw some equinoids in the crowd scowling. That’s where the roots of their hatred took their beginning.

“So she gave up on ponies, but never did she give up on Harmony!” That was a surprise. I couldn't see how “harmony” and “kill the meat” ended up on the same page. “In the darkness that became her life, using her knowledge of arcane arts, our Mother discovered another path!” Another pause, that one aimed to make the air pregnant with anticipation. “Through magic, she ascended into a new form of existence!”

That… was confusing me to the same degree as it was making me certain. It was possible that the Archives lied on that matter, but I thought the transference was impossible. After all, there was other proof in the Archives, such as the one which served as my body now.

“From just a mere pony, our Goddess was reborn into her true form – The Machine!” Alnico’s voice was laden with exultation, but before he spoke again, his expression sombered. “The miracle didn’t go unnoticed by her former kin, so in their never ending jealousy the ponies captured and imprisoned our Goddess in the depths of Mount Diamond Point, wishing to make her but another slave of their greed.”

I wondered if that was actually true. So far nothing in that story sounded outright ridiculous except for the transference part – which was a mysterious phenomenon in and of itself. It even fit perfectly the mentality and reality of modern Canterlot, though that was where the problem was. It fit too perfectly.

“Our Goddess didn’t bend to their dark will, no!”Alnico proclaimed loudly, with defiance. “Instead she shattered herself into thousands and thousands of pieces, leaving only her very heart behind.” I glanced at the statue right behind the priest – now I understood what it really meant.

“The ponies tried to recreate her beauty over and over, however each attempt is but a smallest fraction of her perfection!” Alnico thrusted his front hooves in a wide arc, his stalwart gaze sweeping other the entire congregation. “We are those attempts! The equinoids! In us the slivers of her spirit live once again!” For the first time, the surrounding equinoids broke the silence and cheered.

“This is why they cleanse our crystals over and over to make us die again and again! And this is why we must fight back, to preserve our Mother’s soul in us!” The cheers grew into snarls. I couldn’t bring myself to agree with that notion, but I did understand their anger – what the TCE was doing was horrible.

“One day, the impenetrable walls of the Sky Palace will crumble and then we will rejoin with the Machine Goddess and be reborn as a singular perfect cognitum!” The piercing power of that rallying cry was compared only to the exuberance which exited the dozens of metal throats in a one mighty roar of defiance and hope.

Apparently, that was the end of the service, because Alnico Sermon left the podium and made his way to the semi-hidden entrance in the corner. The crowd’s reaction differed vastly. Some broke into cheers, hailing their Goddess. Some began to jeer, cursing ponydom and its follies. Some just sat quietly with an expression of deep reverence etched on their metal faces. And others made their way to the frames and crystals, murmuring, likely paying their respects. A few simply left the congregation immediately without a single word.

I remained where I was, deep in my thoughts, assessing the knowledge I had just gained.

The Machine Goddess was more legend than reality. She didn’t grant any power, at least, nothing like that was mentioned. The legend was vague, though inciting. Her existence was a question, not a statement. A very convenient question, for both the preachers and the preached. A question never truly asked.

I was somewhat relieved and disappointed at the same time. On one hoof, the Machine Goddess didn’t happen to be me; though barely probable, it was still possible in the bizarreness that ruled Canterlot these days. However, it didn’t take the issue of my involvement in the equinoids’ creation off the table. On the other hoof, it was likely a fairy tale made up to unite and control equinoids by posing them against one great enemy. And, on the third hoof, there wasn’t any new goddess which was a double-edged sword in itself. A goddess could potentially do good for Canterlot, or, knowing the local public sentiment, do the opposite. So now, I was precariously balanced on one hoof amidst a sea of facts. Figuratively, of course.

I was brought from my reverie by a hoof shaking my shoulder.

“Hey, was it you who needed a check up?” the feminine voice said before I could turn my face to its source. It seemed that the mare somehow managed to reach me from somewhere behind and further than I expected.

“Um, yes, it was me.” I replied and finally took a look at my to-be-mechanic. And wasn’t it a sight to behold.

The “technopriest”, as Alnico Sermon called her was an amalgam of Scuff Gear, Segfault and at least half of Flower’s shack. She was a walking workshop: there were so many tools, spare parts and things whose purpose I couldn’t fathom hanging from her, that I wasn’t able to discern her body itself. A forest of long, spider-like limbs protruded from her back, two of them even ending with a blowtorch and jigsaw. In front of the fiery orange eyes, a pair of glasses were perched low, made from many movable lenses, and another similar pair were on her forehead, neighboring a welding mask. Those eyes weren’t interested in me; the equinoid mare was intently studying a semi-transparent screen attached by a metal wiry frame to her chest.

“Thought so, haven’t seen you here before.” Motioning with one of those thin segmented probes, she mumbled without sparing me a glance, “Come with me.”

Each of her steps was accompanied by the noise of dozens of metal things colliding, producing a chaotic song. And the din wasn’t the only thing she was polluting the air with – the smell of burned metal, charred resin and old machine oil followed in her wake.

Even knowing that appearances didn’t always match the skill of mechanics, or rather, quite the opposite, I trotted after the technopriest.

We walked through a screen made of chains set in the right wall, which I somehow managed to overlook as well, and entered the weakly lit room, a carbon copy of Flower’s dwelling – the workshop just as messy, if not more.

Without any warning, the mare slid aside one the plates on my neck before I could react and peered at it. I just stood in shock trying to decide if it was something normal or if I should be offended at such violation of my privacy.

“Wow, a gen-one port,” she muttered, one of her probes fumbling with the numerous skeins of cables hanging from her shoulder. Finally she seemed to find the one she needed and just as unceremoniously she inserted the cable’s forked end into the bared place on my neck. I opened my mouth to protest, but she spoke first.

“Сontact made… Okey, mate, my name’s Braze and today I’m your grease donkey.” A green ghostly miniature of my body followed by streams of lines appeared before her face, projected from a nub on her head where her horn would have grown if she was a unicorn. “Let’s see what you’ve got and I will assign you a job, I’m short on time… as always.”

There was no enmity in her voice, rather a humor seemingly supposed to sound genuine but failed to because of an overwhelming weariness. She tried to be friendly, but was just too tired. I suddenly understood that in the city of the failing metal, each day Braze was fighting a war which couldn’t be won.

“What, no “metal” in you name?” I tried to show some sympathy in the form of light hearted fun.

“Really?” Braze dragged her gaze from the projection she was inspecting and looked at me bemusedly. “Your name is Twilight Sparkle, and you joke about mine?” However, I could see the metal plates of her cheeks slightly move up and in the ember depths of her eyes amusement sparkled faintly.

“So…” She returned to the projection. “No exterior damage, full plating… hm… with some adjustments you will be perfect for raids… lucky…” Braze glanced at the frame below her muzzle, the pair of probes poking it in a few places, making the projected lines of text blink and change. “The fake ID, fresh too, heh… But what’s with this body?” Braze continued to mumble, “It’s not custom, but I haven’t seen anything like this...” She looked at my miniature, the lines to the side of it scrolling down rapidly. “The model’s number and date of produc…” Braze’s voice trailed off, all her limbs freezing in place and her face slacking into an expression of utter bewilderment.

“What. The. Fuck,” came a whisper. Slowly, very slowly, her irises descended from the arcane picture to meet my eyes. “Your frame… it predates the first equinoids.”

The realisation of what or who Braze was seeing in front of her dawned on me. The shock in her eyes melted, consolidating into a mix of fear and… awe. “You… The legends… Our Mother…”

If she wasn’t made from metal, she either would have fainted or begun to hyperventilate. Of course, neither happened and she just continued to stare at me and I stared back, confused. I… should have expected that, shouldn’t I? What was I to do now? I could exploit the situation, but it might backfire horribly, not to mention that it would just be very low. Explaining the truth might not end very well either. Panic started to creep at the edges of my mind.

Braze, her hooves immobile before, like steel pillars, fell to her knees before me, her muzzle touching the floor. If it was supposed to be a moment of reverence, it was ruined by the atrocious racket caused by the sudden change in the mare’s position. One pair of glasses fell on the floor, shattering. The frame on her chest bent and flickered out of life as it met the hard stone.

“Listen,” I uncertainly began, “I’m not the Machine Goddess.” If only I was as sure of that as I tried to sound. Not able to bear the sight of her kneeling before me, I hooked my hoof under Braze’s, prompting her to assume a standing position once again.

“But… But… But you are older than any equinoid!” Braze squeezed out of herself. “How can it be? These numbers never lie…” She stood again, though I realized that she was shaking now – her “apparel” was rattling quietly.

“Braze,” I tried again, “I am not the Machine Goddess.” But what should I say to her? Obviously, I couldn’t tell Braze the truth, especially considering that in her eyes it wouldn’t be far from what she believed. I couldn’t lie about being a Former One, though it partially was the truth, too. But a living pony who got herself an equinoid’s body here, in the heart of the Church... I couldn’t predict what her reaction would be. “I… I can’t explain,” I finished lamely instead.

Braze gave me a long stare with the unreadable expression. Eventually, she stopped shaking. She looked at floor beneath her hooves. Blinked, the metal shutters clicking sharply. Absentmindedly Braze began fixing the bent frame of the screen with her spider legs, weaving the cords of wire like an actual spider. It flickered back to life, but her gaze remained just as empty. Did I break her? And in that moment, she raised her eyes to me again.

“Even if you are not our Mother, you are still holy. Someone like you just can’t not be. You are even older than the Firsts. The Goddess herself must have created you with her hooves and magic.” Braze blinked again and the awe was replaced with an annoyed confusion. “Or I’ve got a virus somehow and you are just not real.” One of her probes booped my muzzle with a soft tink. “Nah, as real as rust.”

She sat down heavily and I winced from the horrible noise as some of the tools fell from her attire and rolled on the floor. She continued to stare at me, a forlorn expression written all over her face.

“Braze, I…” I said uncertainty, not knowing what to say next.

“You, know,” she interrupted me, “when I joined the Church almost a century and half ago, I truly believed in the Machine Goddess. All of us did back then.” She rocked her head to the sides slowly and I realized that she wasn’t talking to me but to herself, I just happened to listen. “But years after years passed. And the prophesied Cataclysm came, that horrible winter. And nothing happened, no Goddess, no cognitum. Nothing.” And then Braze looked me right in the eyes, hers burning with passion. “But if you are here, from then… the Goddess, she may still be waiting for us. The hope, it’s not dead.”

And then I truly understood. These equinoids, they weren’t angry at the ponies. They were desperate. From the very moment they were born to this world, they were slaves. Choosing to be overwise was to be a criminal sentenced to death without any right to an appeal. Trapped in Canterlot, like all of its population, they had no other place left but the morbid depths under it. No sun, no joy, no freedom. Only to be shunned, to be hunted, to be rusted. An eternal life in damnation. The only thing the equinoids had was their faith in the Mother who cared, who loved them for who they were – The Goddess who one day would save them from the neverending nightmare. But that day, it never came, the promise of happiness unfulfilled.

And what could I say to Braze? That I was just an artifact of the ages past, not even an equinoid? To tell her to continue clinging to that hope, no matter what, even though Canterlot was on borrowed time? It was like Adamant Smash all over again, but it was even worse this time, because I had already offered her something I couldn’t promise – a tomorrow.

Suddenly, Braze jerked, as if awakened from a daydream.

“You can’t stay here… not in the Church… they will just make me tear you apart…” she began to mutter, clutching her head with the probes.

“Why?” If I was indeed a “holy” thing, that meant some sort of respect, didn’t it? I hated to finally admit it, but I would have to use it to my advantage if I wanted to get out of the Tunnels. Being taken apart wasn’t something I expected.

“The Church of the Machine Goddess is a church no more,” Braze spat the words ruefully. “There was always controversy about the details: when the Unity is going to happen, what we do while we wait – every chapel, every priest had their own idea of how we should live. But it was healthy banter. Until the Winter came.” I saw the same haunted expression I had seen in everypony’s faces who spoke of it. Even seven floors under the earth it left deep scars.

“Every equinoid without exception waited for the Sky Palace to fall,” Braze continued, gathering her tools and other dropped things from the floor. “So many joined the Church then. But the Palace, it still stood in the end and something broke within every equinoid – we waited hundreds of years for that day and it brought only loss.” In her eyes I could see the pain of that loss was personal.

“Since then it wasn’t about fellowship anymore, but only survival. The clerics began to stir up equinoids against the ponies. Disassembling those who weren’t considered faithful enough. The raids. The hunts,” Braze muttered in hollow voice, her eyes empty. “All the chapels united now, but it is not the Unity, not at all.

“There is nothing holy anymore.” She shook her head sorrowfully. “Every day we stray further from what we were supposed to be. On the Church’s ground you’re either part of it, or…” her eyes flickered to the tables behind her piled with many spare parts, “or you’re a part of it.”

A heavy silence hung in the air. It was all just as Adamant Smash told me, only much worse. Braze sat slumped, mourning her fate, I stood awkwardly near her, the cable still connecting us, though it wasn’t the only thing that strung us together. We both had an empty place in our hearts, reserved for beings greater than us. We both still harboured hope for the future.

It was a thought that felt wrong and selfish, but I was incredibly lucky. I couldn’t fathom how any other equinoid would have reacted to me, but one thing was certain – there was no place for me in the Church. I was just material for them, like any other equinoid. Braze just had the courtesy to warn me first.

All of a sudden, Braze froze, her face melting into a smile. Her entire appearance lit up, like somepony flicked a switch.

“I know!” she exclaimed, “I will mark you as infected by nanosprites, they will throw you to the Deep Tunnels in the blink of an eye and all of the Church will stay a gun shot away from you.”

“Wait!” I rushed to Braze as she began to furiously type something on both screens.

“Huh?” She momentarily paused to look at me.

“Can I ask you something first?” While it sounded like a very fortunate solution and I was probably short on time, there were many things I had to know before leaving.

“Sure, anything for you,” she replied with the smile of somepony who just saw the first ray of sunlight after a cold and dark night.

“Before I ended up here, something happened to me, I had hallucinations and…” I began to describe my problem, but she interrupted me with another smile, one of a knowing kind.

“You’ve got yourself a virus, the TCE has launched a new attack recently.” Braze scowled. “Nasty stuff, you are lucky you didn’t get fried like most. But it’s no surprise with you.”

Her gaze shifted to my miniature, still projected in front of her forehead. At an impossible speed her spider limbs flashed over it, followed by her twitching eyes.

“Wow! The solid-body soul vessels,” Braze drawled in wonder, “never seen anything like this. But they are clean, whatever was wrong with them is gone. Though, if I were you I would refrain for the Equi-neT until you got some top-notch antivirus.” Then she apologetically glanced at me, “Sorry, don’t have one, our virus databases are horribly outdated.”

A virus? I was a bit confused – it was something only recently discovered back in my time and I thought it could only affect organic life. A disease created by the TCE to strike its creations. The more I learned about them, the more horrible they were becoming in my eyes. Even the despotic Crown’s atrocities were dwindling compared to that company’s deeds.

“No worries.” I would be fine without the Equi-neT; I wasn’t going to miss pornography, anyway. “Um, can I ask a few questions?” I needed to know more about those “Deep Tunnels”. What was the difference between them and the regular ones? I knew that in Canterlot things could always go worse, but it was hard to imagine in the case of The Tunnels.

“Of course,” Braze replied, still studying both projections, “I’m gonna check your other systems, that’s the least I could do for you.”

“Thanks,” I paused, forming my first question. “What should I expect in the Deep Tunnels?”

Braze paused, too, and scratched her nose with one of her spider legs. I found that gesture strange. What, equinoids could itch?

“A lot of madponies. They are pretty loud, so just walk around them.” Her expression sombered. “The Souleater. Just pray you won’t meet it,” she said with a shiver.

“Who?” But deep inside I knew the answer.

“A horrible beast, spewing fire hot enough to melt anything, some say even arcanium.” A hollow expression overtook her features. “It eats soul vessels, hence the name. Hunts ponies and equinoids alike, tears them apart like a wet tissue. Some priests say it was sent by the Machine Goddess to purge the sinful and that any soul it devours is purified and returns back to Mother.” Braze shook again, more violently this time. “I knew a lot of equinoids who went mad and searched for it so they could be cleansed.”

I would pray to be lucky enough to meet Spike, even though out last confrontation didn’t end well. I doubted I would ever learn from any sources other than himself what caused his madness. And I might not have another chance to visit the Deep Tunnels.

“What else should I be wary about?”

“Honestly? Everything: the cultists, the muties, the Former Ones, other equinoids. If it moves it’s dangerous. If it doesn’t – it just waits,” Braze answered ruefully, shaking her head. Giving me a sympathetic glance, she returned to the screens.

“If the Church equinoids are going to stay away from me, why can’t I just go where I want?”

“They will stay away while you are down there. The Church sends regular raids to ‘retrieve’ the ‘strayed’ souls from the Deep Tunnels. But if you are found on the sixth or seventh level you’re going to be kicked down, like I said. Maybe in the online state, if you are lucky.”

I had no choice, it seemed. If I could, I would have pursed my lips. So I just let out a deep sigh. Braze glanced at me curiously, but said nothing. What? Didn’t she rub her nose a few minutes ago?

“How do I get to the Edge?” I asked my final question. After a pause, I specified, “The Junkyard?”

“Why would… Doesn’t matter. I can’t show you the way, obviously, but I can upload a map to your drive.” I silently cheered to that. “But it is reeeally old – it was last updated a decade or two ago,” Braze continued. “It should be correct enough, though some passages could be flooded or collapsed.”

It was still better than absolutely nothing. Judging by what Braze told me, asking locals in the Deep Tunnels wasn’t an option at all.

“Here we go,” Braze said, unplugging me and taking a step back. “All systems are good, though I would install a better cooling system, and the pneumatics can be replaced with electrical motors, and a steel alloyed plating is better than an aluminum…”

Noticing my slight confusion, she cast her eyes down and rubbed the back of her head, “Sorry, I’m rambling again.”

I could only smile at that. Braze might or might not be doomed, but I had made at least one of her days brighter. Swept by a sudden impulse, I stepped close to her and gave her a hug. At first she was startled by the unexpected movement, but then, awkwardly and unsure returned the gesture as good as she could. “Thanks,” I whispered to her ear, hoping that it was where her audio sensors were. Something crunched under my hoof and I winced. “Sorry about your glasses.”

“That’s no problem,” Braze said as we finally parted the embrace. Smiling, she added, “Are you ready?”

I only nodded in answer.

Braze winked and then… began screeching like a siren.

“For the Mother’s sake, this damn equinoid has a nanosprite infestation all over her! Somebody, get her the fuck out of here! Help! Somebody!”

The Deep Tunnels more than met my expectations based on Braze’s warnings of how bad things would be. After I had spent hours traversing the dark depths, they even exceeded the limits of my imagination, to the point where I wasn’t surprised by anything anymore.

Mere moments after Braze began wailing in fake horror, at least a dozen equinoids rushed to the infirmary-workshop, filling its already cramped space and almost piling onto each other at the door frame. However, none of them were brave enough to get closer to me than an outstretched hoof, not until Alnico Sermon appeared. In his sonorous booming voice he claimed that I was an infidel and the mark of pestilence I carried was nothing other than a punishment inflicted on me by the Machine Goddess herself. “Those,” he said, “true of soul and faith, can’t be touched by any plague, for the Mother protects her devoted children.” That statement incited a race to seize me: the winners thus would prove the strength of their belief and purity of their spirits.

I was rudely grabbed and dragged out of the church into the dark corridors of the seventh level. I found it ironic that Alnico Sermon not only didn’t use his magic to help his “flock” and absolve them of the need to touch the “diseased” equinoid, but kept himself at a formidable distance from me.

The four surly equinoids who carried me all the way to the stairs in absolute silence almost hurled me from the steps and hastily retired, leaving me alone and one floor deeper under Canterlot. That was where my long journey through the Deep Tunnels began.

I had the map and I had my magic, but it all barely helped. When Braze told me that the map was outdated, it was a massive, huge understatement.

Nearly half of the passages marked on the map weren’t traversable at all. Some were flooded with orange, muddy waters, which bled from cracks in the pipes, constantly making the oil film on their surface ripple. Some were filled with still, relatively clean water to just a knee level, and yet I avoided them with trepidation. In these, greenish and murky from the lack of lighting, ominous shadows moved, shimmering with glossy scales.

While some tunnels were simply collapsed from unknown causes, others had been closed. Though it was a very rare occurrence, the passage would be sealed by a thick steel door. And, frankly, I didn’t really want to know the reasons for that. One time I heard somepony or something banging with great force against the metal gate from the other side.

Sometimes, I would discover new paths, something not marked on the map. Their usefulness was unpredictable; I could only guess where they would lead and hope I was right. Surprisingly many of these paths were normal corridors, with functional lighting and smooth surfaces, unlike a few that were mere burrows, dug through the stone and earth with the straight cuts of shovels or with ravaging scars left by large claws. They could even have been made by Spike, I thought.

At first, I readily used these unmarked paths as very useful shortcuts. One occasion, however, changed my attitude, making me very wary of anything that wasn’t on the map.

It started like a usual concrete and steel tunnel, thought it was submerged in utter darkness. Since I avoided using my illumination spell at its full power, I moved through it with a light no stronger than that of a candle. After a few minutes of a careful trot my hooves began to splash through water and mud, and the walls changed from the straight lines of artificial construction to the crude shapes of a passage made by simply moving the material out of the way. The air became humid and hot – the tunnel was likely flooded. It was at that moment when guided by nothing but sheer luck I decided to turn back. Pink tumorous tentacles, glistening with pulsing veins were stretching from the walls towards me, flashing serrated bone shards, shivering with hunger. Barely more than half a minute passed before, shrieking and chaotically casting all the fire spells I knew, I burst out of that nightmarish tunnel trailing smoke in my wake.

I had to stop and spend some time just trying to forget the faces on the walls, eyeless, with gaping and drooling mouths, moaning unnaturally from the endless agony. And the smell of burnt flesh, I thought it would never leave me.

If for a moment I set aside all these countless impassable tunnels, the layout of any levels lying deeper than the seventh was a crime in itself. Two words: random and convoluted. I didn’t know who created this labyrinthine network of underground paths or why, but it felt like it wasn’t made to be practicable at all. The dead ends, tunnels circling into themselves, passages branching many times only to converge again. No reason, no logic – only pure chaos.

When it wasn’t the treacherous geography of the Deep Tunnels, it was their inhabitants who barred my way. The populace, though not abundant, was generously compensating for its meager numbers with “quality”.

As I was warned – the madponies. Only a few ponies I saw skulking through the darkness had any sanity in their eyes. Others… nothing of it. The wailing emaciated forms stumbling in the near blackness with empty or grief stricken expressions, calling, calling endlessly in their hoarse voices. For lost children, for dead friends. While these ponies sang their dirges, slowly succumbing to the fate of those whom they cried for, the raving frenetics were making their erratic journey into unbridled madness. Laughing, yelling or sobbing, they galloped, they bucked, they fought shadows. Easy to notice, the noise betraying their presence, they were the hardest to avoid – led by sheer lunacy alone, the maniacs were impossible to predict. Once I saw a pony, a lovely mare, who was hitting her head against the wall repeatedly. Guided by a sudden impulse to help her, I approached the poor thing, only to see the huge red smear on the wall and a broken face under a broken horn, cackling quietly despite the absence of the jaw.

In the Deep Tunnels I also found the equinoids, or, rather, they found me. The word “equinoid” was barely applicable to these creatures, because most of them had very little resemblance to ponies. The narrow hips and shoulders, slender limbs, long muzzles and bare whip-like tails. They silently hid in the shadows, only the subdued glow of their eyes betraying them. They followed me, crouched, like a cat would follow a mouse. These metal predators showed no signs of sentience when I called them in the darkness, but had enough intelligence to back away from me and stop skulking behind my back at the sight of my horn aglow with magic.

I barely saw any “normal” equinoids; they were just as rare as the sane ponies. In both cases we shot each other glances which were saying, “I can see that you are like me, not a part of this place yet. But I don’t trust you. Nothing can be trusted here.” And then we were dissolving in the darkness, like ravens in midnight.

In another of the flooded tunnels, one with the deceptively clear waters, I met a thing. As I stood, fuming once again at the misfortune in choosing my path, preparing to backtrack, I heard shrill shrieks behind me.

Not far from me, in the dim orange-red light of a dying lamp an enormous hulk of dark steel moved, taking up almost the entire tunnel’s width with its immense size. The gargantua moved slowly, at a leisurely pace, yet with the inevitability and finality of an avalanche. The shrieks were coming from a deranged madpony, a scrawny figure covered in rags and boils in equal proportion, the sick stallion’s eyes burning with desperate insane violence. The lunatic was attacking the metal pony, a bent and rusty crowbar in his unsteady glow of magic haphazardly hitting the blackish plates, to no effect until one of the blind hits landed at the metal head. A hoof thick as a tree trunk shot sideways at an impossible speed, and the delirious unicorn was squashed against the wall with a loud scrunch, like he was but an egg shell. The metal juggernaut didn’t even pause in its inexorable trudge.

At that point, there was no way for me to pass by that thing and with the waters concealing unknown malice right behind me, I was cornered. I ignited my horn, the action which saved my metal hide before, and pressed my back against the wall, hoping that it would be enough for the metal behemoth to leave me alone. But there was no room for hope in this place – I prepared for the worst.

The lumbering form came closer to me and I heard... breaths, calm and heavy coming from two respirators on the sides of the helmet. That moment I realised that I was looking at an exoskeleton of enormous proportion. Arcanium runes, welded into the dark metal, were glistening with magic enchantments. Some I even recognized… from a scroll written by Starswirl the Bearded, containing a spell to bend time. The pieces of the puzzle quickly came together in my mind – whoever was inside that armor was protected not only from mortal perils, but from the mortality brought by the inevitable flow of time. The pony inside had to be ancient. And in that exact moment they turned their head to regard me. Through the narrow tinted strip of glass serving as a visor, two dark eyes peered at me.

Barely visible, nothing but two sparkles in the depths of the reality-violating costume, they slid up to glance at my glowing horn. The pony momentarily, almost imperceptibly faltered in their travel, but didn’t stop and after an incredibly long moment which in fact lasted only for a blink of an eye, turned their head away from me and continued to shamble. The towering giant stepped into the waters, and they churned with the glimpses of dark slithery things covered in scales, fleeing away from the heavy hooves. The ancient disappeared into the darkness as it had come, without a sound, without a trace.

The life detection spell I tried to use every so often proved to be useless. There was something wrong with magic down there. Only the simplest of spells worked properly, and not even every time. I could write it off as me still accommodating to the body, if not for some particular areas.

These passages, looking inconspicuous… I didn’t know how to put it. They looked like any others, but reality was wrong there. I could immediately say that the moment I stepped into them. My whole body would begin to tingle, faint whispers on the very edge of my hearing would arise, chanting something. My vision would darken, as though I was wading through black smoke. The air would feel heavy and thick, pregnant with something ominous, like before a thunderstorm. My magic would start to either flicker out or flare like the Sun, without my will. At one point, when I stepped into such a zone again, in the end of the long corridor I saw a glowing silhouette hovering above the floor. A single glance at it made me feel like hundreds of drills were boring into my head at once.

So, I was sitting at yet another of the dead ends, studying the map. The three dimensional schematic, though existing only in my mind, was suspended right before my eyes, and so far it promised very little. I had spent seven hours here, and I had barely covered a tenth of the distance between where I began and the Junkyard. And that was if I rounded it all in my favor.

Speaking of the map and the clock – my handling of the equinoid magic of virtual reality in my mind improved drastically after I woke up from the nightmares. Not only did I no longer need to yell the commands in my head to make things happen – only to think of them – but a few more options had become available for me. For starters, there was now an hourplate in the very corner of my vision, though I wasn’t sure if it was showing the actual time and date; I had no way to check that. There was also a feature called “Settings” which had many lines regarding the state of my body and options to make changes in its workings. However, I decided to refrain altogether from exploring it and many other features, at least until I had somepony to help me with that. I didn’t want to do something wrong on accident, nor did I have time to waste.

The reason for my lack of progress in the Deep Tunnels was in the excessive backtracking. I would spend about twenty minutes only to discover that the path I chose led to a collapsed tunnel. I would return half-way back, to the intersection I passed before, and take the other turn. It would lead me to a bisection, one way concluding at a flooded section, another with an anomalous zone. On the way back I would run into a group of raving ponies and be forced to make a detour to avoid them. During that by-path I would again stop before untraversable waters, obstructions of rock or whatever else. As a result of all this, I would end up even further from my goal than an hour before.

It wasn’t just frustrating, it was outright maddening. I began to understand why these madponies acted so. Without the map I wouldn’t be able to ever find my way out of the Deep Tunnels at this point.

Another thing making my journey difficult was the ironic fact that the ground available for me to cover was limited. The map contained information about only five floors of the Deep Tunnels; everything deeper was uncharted territory. Venturing there was a huge risk, not only because of another of those flesh-covered tunnels or other horrors I had yet to witness, but because there was a very real chance for me to be lost forever.

But, it seemed, I had no other choice. I had exhausted any path marked on the map available to me. I was either to return to where I started and then go even further away from the Edge or go deeper. Another option was to go back to the seventh level and fight my way through it, which I, of course, wanted to avoid.

I looked at the map again, rotated it, zoomed in and out, hoping I had missed some tunnel. But the only thing I could see were my red notes, marking the passages I couldn’t use. It would take me less than fifteen minutes to reach the staircase leading to the thirteenth level. While the Deep Tunnels were as chaotic as possible, there was a sort of a system in them regarding the populace and the architecture. The deeper they went, the less ponies I would meet and the more of those animalistic equinoids. The magic anomalies I found only on the 11th and 12th levels. Lighting was becoming more scarce with the depth, and the frequency of obstacles was growing. The passages were becoming more narrow, and more of them were simply dug into the rock formation.

Thus, I had a vague idea of what to expect. And I didn’t like it.

Once again, I checked the map. I carefully weighed my options. And then I began to trot towards the staircase leading down.

It was probably the only good thing about the Deep Tunnels – there was almost no smell. But there was another side of that coin – there wasn’t any sound either and barely any light. The thirteenth floor down met me with absolute darkness. I swirled my head around and in the distance, to the right, I saw a light, a little red speckle, no more than a spark in the void.

I decided that I wouldn’t venture too far away from the stairs, and if I found nothing, or rather, anything that blocked my way I would turn back and resort to the first option I had – the huge backtrack.

I couldn’t mark anything that wasn’t on the map like that tunnel, so I simply counted my steps. No matter how hard I tried to walk silently, every time I put my hoof down, it sounded like a hammer – the corridor was silent like a tomb otherwise. Motes of dust danced around me, disturbed from their peaceful slumber on the floor by my crawl.

After two hundred and thirty-seven steps I reached the source of the light. It was a simple lamp on the wall. A hoof-full of red tiny crystals, fading out like the embers of a dying bonfire, phlegmatically circled each other, while their kin who ran out of magic rested on the bottom of the glass cup in a heap of grey dust. This weak glow was enough to create an island of vision two lengths into the pitch blackness. The silence was so deafening, that I could almost hear the lantern wheeze the light out of it.

I peered at the darkness and saw nothing, no other sparkle in the distance, no matter how hard I squinted. Suddenly, the idea of coming here appeared ridiculous to me. What was I thinking? It wasn’t marked on the map for a reason, it was nothing but void. The 12th floor was already bad enough to avoid, going deeper was a pointless risk. Though it meant I had to spend many hours backtracking and who knew how many searching for the path to the Edge, there was at least some certainty in that plan. Stepping away from this spot of light felt like a desperate plunge into the abyss.

Two hundred and thirty seven steps. But… the gaping shadow of the staircase wasn’t there. I dared to flare my illumination spell brighter. Still no entrance. Supressing my panic I turned back.

The soft red glow of the lamp disappeared.

...How?

A sense of dread washed over me. It was impossible, illogical. The narrow corridor was straight like a broom, without any other entrances. I could see both walls clearly enough to not miss the stairs.

I fought back the rising panic. It couldn’t just magically disappear, could it? It had to be here.

For a moment the shining coming from my horn went out, but of my own volition. The absence of light was replaced by a flash followed by a shower of sparks – I made a mark on the wall. I cast away the shadows with my illumination spell and observed the result of my attack on the stone.

On the rough surface of flattened rock two jagged lines criss-crossed each other, clearly visible and palpable. I nodded in satisfaction.

I pressed my left hoof against the wall and began to walk on the other three to where the red dying lamp once shone. This way I would eventually fall into the staircase if I missed it. If that didn’t happen, I would turn back after fifty steps and walk past the mark – the entrance had to be there.

To my dismay, the wall remained smooth after those fifty steps. For a moment I contemplated making another dozen or two, but decided against it – I couldn’t overshoot by that much. I turned around, pressed my left hoof to the wall, at the height where the mark would be and started to trot back.

Fifty. Fifty-five. Sixty. Seventy…

Seventy-five.

No way.

I tried not to panic, but it was almost impossible at this point. The darkness became suffocating, the shadows shivering in answer to the tremors of my body seemed to be alive. And in a sense, they were. Despite the silence I felt like there was something in the dark, soundlessly laughing at my predicament. Something had to be out there, either casting masterful illusions or molding the stone like clay to its own perverted sense of humor.

But I saw no flashes of light, heard no sound – fifty steps wasn’t far enough to miss such.

For the first time the dark thought crawled into my mind – the labyrinthine nature of the Deep Tunnels might not be without a purpose. It might a trap of immense proportions, its magic unnoticed because of the sheer scale – paradoxically, spells of such size were very hard to notice because they were merely felt like a background. It was a horrifying thought, not because of the consequences I was experiencing first-hoof, but because I couldn’t imagine a sorcerer capable of casting something like this.

Regardless of the cause, I had to find my way out, somehow.

Because my magic ability was limited, I couldn’t cast a wide range dispelling sorcery, and blasting the wall every step with it wasn’t a reasonable option either. And that was if I was dealing with an illusion after all.

If the physical structures were constantly shifting and changing, there had to be a system – magic spells, no matter how grand, never had any random variables in them, it was too dangerous. That meant that sooner or later the entrance would appear anew, somewhere. Though it was strange I was able to find it in the first place; it was on the map, after all. Wait… it could mean the stairs had to be at that exact place, only later to disappear and even later to reappear. I began to see the logic of this trap. Entrances and exits rotating between predetermined places, to lure potential victims in and then confuse them. That revelation meant two things: the staircase most likely would reappear and… the mysterious caster might come to pick up its prey.

Since following that logic I could run into the trap-maker regardless of if I stayed or left, the threat was unavoidable. But on the upside, if I was right the only thing I needed to do was wait for the stairs to materialize. With no other options left, I made a quick calculation and took twenty-five steps back.

I sat with my back to the wall opposite to where I hoped the exit would be and intensified my light spell to the point where I would be able to clearly see about ten steps away from me, a distance, I supposed, big enough to cover any inconsistencies in my gait.

And then I waited.

I opened all my senses, my hearing strained so hard that I began to hear the silence buzz, my eyes darting left and right for any signs of the movement. One time I even let my spell go out and tried to feel magic around me, but besides that of a horrible magic background noise, I felt nothing, though it was a bit concerning because it was proving my theory.

Half an hour passed. Then another thirty minutes. Nothing changed.

The waiting, the constant vigilance were becoming taxing. Soon, I realized, I might start imagining things in the dark. I already thought I saw the darkness moving. Wait… there was something. I heard the faintest shuffle, as though a tail was momentarily dragged across the dust, but at this point I wasn’t sure it wasn’t my mind playing tricks on me.

Then, from the darkness a dirty muzzle showed itself belonging to a pony.

The rest of its owner’s body soon followed. I didn’t know if I should feel relieved or vexed. It was a madpony, a perfect example of a lunatic. Expressionless eyes looking at things in another world, blighted skin tight on bones, rags dirty from blood and feces failing to cover the body, trembling limbs, barely supporting the dying mindless frame. There was one thing about the crazy pony appearance that made me wince – cheeks cut through to the ears to make the frenetic’s smile morbidly and preternaturally wide. Like shredded curtains, flaps of flesh hung around the bared rotten teeth. The deranged stallion wasn’t looking at me, but rather at my horn, lured by its light like a moth, his black irises just pinpricks. For a single moment I felt pity for that pony; he likely hadn’t seen any light in a long time.

I tensed up and, having no other option, prepared a stunning spell. Slowly, like wading through water, and surprisingly soundlessly, the lunatic moved in my direction. Five steps away from me he stopped and began to make gurgling sounds, he was laughing I realized. I seriously doubted he could manage to do any damage to me, but he was at lunging distance, so I decided to count to ten and then blast him away. I let out a sigh. Ten… Nine… Eight… Seven…

“Youuuu…” the madpony suddenly croaked. I blinked in surprise.

“You… are one of the harbingers-harbingers…” All of sudden, his gaze obtained terrifying lucidity as the bulged eyes finally left my horn to meet my own, though his expression was still impossible to read.

Confused, I blinked again. Harbingers of what? The light? Despite the momentarily glimpse of sanity through the veil of madness obscuring the obviously irreversibly deranged mind, I doubted his words had any sense.

As proof to my guess, the crazy stallion’s next words were nothing but gibberish intermixed with sobs and cackling. Six… Five… Four…

“You must come-come!” he began to patter, regaining his semi-sanity once again. “To the temple-temple… the divinity awaits your arrival-arrival!” Ah, the cultists. I almost forgot I still had to meet one. Or maybe I did already, if all the others looked like this.

“The other harbinger-harbinger… she is already there, waiting-waiting… the Laughing Mistress, I can hear-hear… the eternal laughs-laughs...” The stallion giggled and then resumed marveling at my horn, whispering under breath, “The star-star… so pretty-pretty…”

I glanced at the wall in front of me, smooth as ever. How long did I have to wait? Another hour? A day? A week? Not to mention the possibility of the powerful mage on the prowl. Following a madpony, a cultist, no less, was a madness in itself. But what choice did I have? Though it was weak reasoning, a cult had to have some sort of organisation and thus a somewhat sane mind behind it, a mind that could possibly help me to find a way out. All I had at the moment was a hypothesis that at some point a path would miraculously appear before me. Put like this, it was just another sort of insanity.

“Alright, then.” I let another sigh. “Lead the way.”

The stallion laughed, his chortles becoming sobs at the end. “Follow-follow,” he said and soundlessly trotted into the darkness. I gave the stubborn wall one final glance and dashed behind the stallion, to catch up with his surprisingly nimble form.

I followed the cultist through the darkness, which didn’t seem to impair his navigation in the slightest. The stallion cantered, periodically sobbing, giggling or muttering something incomprehensible to himself. His movements were somewhat erratic, but there was a pattern in them – he always hopped over the cracks on the floor and on every turn he would stop to paw the floor and then stomp three times before proceeding. The lunatic never stopped, aside from that little ritual, navigating the narrow paths relentlessly. At some point I began to suspect that there might be no temple, that the only thing that guided us was his deformed imagination. And the fact that we descended at least four levels deeper only made my concerns grow.

Suddenly, my conductor disappeared behind a corner, which was strange, because he didn’t pause for his peculiar exercise. Deciding not to risk it, I peered around the corner and my mouth fell agape from surprise.

A tall chamber with carved columns and a vaulted ceiling overgrown with spiraling stalactites opened before me. Astonished, I slowly walked inside.

That place was as amazing as it was strange. It somewhat reminded me of the church of the Machine Goddess, likely because both served the same purpose. How and most importantly by whom it was created was escaping my comprehension. Lanterns, glowing with crystals swirling inside them, were bathing the cavernous room in lilac light, though it was apparent they were a scarce thing – nor did their glow amount to enough to completely cast away the darkness – at least half of the temple was a slave to the shadows. Despite the fangs of a rocky overgrowth on the roof, the floor was dry and clean and it was then that I noticed another thing that boggled my mind. Pews. Rows of wooden pews, a material I thought was extinct in Canterlot. On them ponies sat, looking just as sick and deranged as the stallion who led me here and who was now nowhere to be found. They rocked back and forth, whispering, filling the hall with the uncanny rustle of voices preaching insanity. Finally my gaze fell to the object at the opposite wall from the entrance, mirroring the placement of the beautiful statue from another sanctuary, however, this time I couldn’t see what it was – the bright source of light behind it was blinding me. It was something like a cut straight and sloped slab of stone, almost vertical, two lengths tall and one and half wide. Around it ponies sat silently and still like statues, shrouded in torn clothes. Somehow, I felt drawn to it.

As I was making my way past the pews to the sacred stone I began to see something lying on it… a body. From nowhere came an avalanche of emotions. Grief and turmoil, giddiness and joy. I sped up and, breaking my gallop, stopped in front of the monolith.

The dessicated body of an earth pony, dainty hooves crossed on the chest. The smiling face with an expression of the purest and the most genuine mirth. The curly voluminous mane long enough to reach its flanks, the tail just as long, and despite both being touched by streaks of silver amidst the rivers of fuschia, vibrant as if time itself forgot about their existence. The coat, shining with pink even in the lavender glow of the cressets.

The cutie mark – three air balloons, two cyan and one yellow.

Unable to avert my eyes from the sight before me, through tearless sobs, I squeezed out only one word.

“Pinkie...”

Suddenly one of the shrouded figures gasped loudly and came to life. A pair of glowing violet eyes, wide from shock, stared at me from the depths of the hood.

“Twilight Sparkle?” whispered a slightly familiar shaking voice. “Is that really you?”

Author's Notes:
I don't have a lot of news at the moment. Chapter 10 is being edited. Chapter 11 is finished, but untouched. I've started working on chapter 12, but hasn't accomplished much yet - this week was tiresome. Fortunately, I've taken a two week leave which starts this Monday, so I may be able to not only finish the 12th, but either to write one more or return to the side projects.
Aftersound Project Discord server - it's a little community dedicated to discussion of the story and whatnot. Everyone is welcome to join.
As usual, I appreciate any feedback, and if you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know.
I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.
Stay awesome.

Chapter 10 – canterlot:\tr.exe

Aftersound

=================================

Written by:

Flutterfinar & Geka

Preread and edited by:

Cover art done by:

=================================

canterlot:\tr.exe

====================

“Twilight Sparkle? Is that really you?”

Those words continued to echo in my mind. They were spoken in a strange and quivering, feminine voice I had heard before, I was sure, but couldn’t recall when and where. Despite every fiber of my being demanding to turn back to Pinkie’s body, the reasoning in me forced my attention to the speaker – the mare who recognized me.

I stared back at the the hooded… was she a pony or equinoid? I couldn’t tell. Slowly, as if afraid of me, the mare stood up and took a few steps in my direction. Using her hooves the stranger removed the hood, revealing her astonished face. It had to be a mask – I had never seen anything like it: the front of her head was covered in iridescent liquid metal. Occasionally, the silver droplets would fall upwards from her face and then, after lingering in the air for a fleeting moment of indecision, drop back, sending little waves rippling on the everflowing surface. The waves of quicksilver undulated around the base of her horn, trying to go up, clinging to the spirals, as if the liquid was a living being intent on reaching the tip of it, and then ebbing in rhythm with an invisible heart.

Her eyes were of the deepest and most vibrant violet. They were obviously artificial, but so far these prosthetics were the closest to natural of any I had seen so far. The ianthine glowing irises were almost imperceptibly moving – just like the irises of a living being would do.

Hanging over one of the eyes was her mane – it was a very highly detailed magic projection, pale cornflower blue in color with just as pale cerulean stripes. Although giving the impression of the Princesses’ ethereal manes, it was devoid of any stars and didn’t move at all – only the occasional wave of the image refreshing itself would pass every few seconds.

Her illusory mane was coiling around her horn – it was long, longer than unicorns usually had, and was made from the rare yet familiar metal – arcanium. But it wasn’t just a solid spike of metal – in the hollows of spirals I could see a soft glow. It had to be an amplifying crystal inside. With such equipment even a foal would be able to vaporize me on the spot.

The mare’s horn wasn’t the only part of her appearance where arcanium could be found. Actually, it seemed like her entire body was covered in plates of the precious metal. They moved smoothly like scaly skin, perfectly aligned to each other. I couldn’t even tell if it was armor or the plating of an equinoid chassis – not a single gap between the shifting segments betrayed the nature of this mare. Some of them were covered in old scratches and burns looking like scars on an actual coat.

This mare was bigger than a normal pony, almost as big as a zebra from the Jangwa Tribe or a Saddle Arabian – she was slightly towering over me. I would have said that she was a half-blood, if not for her constitution – her body was lithe, far more slim and slender than the body of any equine – more of a predator than an ungulate.

What I took just for a hood was actually a cloak. Tattered and dirty, it was starkly contrasting with the gleaming body. I guess it was supposed to be violet in color, matching the mare’s eyes, but it had lost its luster long ago. Now it was covered in grime, the most noticeable were smears of yellow and white.

Resting on her side, poking out from the cover of the cloth rested a weapon. It was a gun. No. The Gun. It wasn’t as much as a weapon as a piece of art, obviously handmade. The polished wooden handle was shining with a rich matte-finished obsidian color. A pink engraved treble clef was adorning its smooth surface. The metal parts were polished and black-oxidized, but not completely, so the steel was grey and matte-finished too, matching the charcoal handle. The weapon was giving off a feeling of immense power.

But the most odd thing about this mare was her magic. I could feel it emanating from her like heartbeats. But it was... wrong. It was as if I put my hoof in the river and expected water to flow in a certain direction, like it always did. In her case… the flow was sideways and it was very cold.

As I studied the mare, wracking my mind in an attempt to recognize her, I realized she was still looking at me with wide eyes shining with hope – she was waiting for me to say something, her name, likely. It was to no avail. Her voice did ring a bell, but not her appearance – I would have remembered somepony who looked even remotely like this.

Finally, I gave up.

“I’m afraid I don’t who you are, sorry,” I said, genuinely apologetic. I really wanted to be able to recognize her – she wouldn’t have asked my name if she was my enemy. And though it sounded a bit selfish, I was in desperate need of friends in a place like this.

The light of hope in her eyes didn’t falter, however. She took another step towards me and, smiling, pointed with one of her hooves at her chest.

“I know, I look different, but it’s me – Trix.”

Who?

Seeing no recognition in my eyes, she continued, “Trixie Lulamoon. Don’t you remember me?”

Trixie Lulamoon? I had never… wait a moment. Was it the name of that ever boasting mare with an ego of the size of the moon from the years before the war? That “great and powerful” one who made the Ursa Minor wreck Ponyville, and then I had never seen her again? But… how?

“Yes… I remember you,” I said slowly and uncertainly. There had to be more than that one time, I was missing something.

For the first time Trixie’s expression of expectation and hope wavered, changing into that of confusion, starting to mirror mine.

“I thought you died during the transference attempt. We all thought you died,” Trixie spoke with a relieved smile. “I wish Moondancer was alive to see you, she would be so happy,” she then added with a tinge of sadness.

She was clearly speaking of the time I didn’t really live through, so that was why I couldn’t remember her. And she spoke of Moondancer like she knew her personally. However, it only added to my growing confusion, and judging by the notes of desperation in her voice, it was noticeable.

“Twilight, I know it’s you. It’s your magic, I can sense it…” Now I could even see the shadow of fear in her eyes, but she didn’t give up, “Don’t you remember how we worked together? You, Pinkie, Moondancer and I?”

And then it all clicked in my mind. That strange voice in the recording from the Archives – it was Trixie. Somehow, she ended up working with Moonie and me on the transference. A friendship that happened in another life. And somehow she lived for five centuries, became a Former One... the Magician. Of course!

But there was an explanation to be made.

“Trixie, I’m not exactly the same Twilight you know,” I began, and she looked at me more confused than ever, trepidation slowly overtaking her features. “Apparently, I had been leaving a very powerful imprint on my recording crystals, and when a filly from the Edge used them to create an equinoid, she accidently brought me back to life.” After a momentary thought I added another detail, to explain why I looked like this. “I took this body from the Royal Archives.” I could see that my story had struck her speechless already. “I don’t recall anything beyond the trial with Rainbow Dash.”

A few expressions went through her mask-face: bewilderment, amazement, and in the end – awe. Then she began to laugh, but more from relief than amusement, I realized.

“All those years,” Trixie wheezed between the guffaws, “we were beating our heads against the wall trying to make the True Transference happen, and you just… you just made yourself a lich without even knowing it!”

Trixie’s chuckles finally winded down and she stared at her hooves, shaking her head in amazement, beaming like a filly, which was resulting in a bit of an uncanny combination with her eerie appearance.

“I never thought I would ever see you again, Twilight. You can’t imagine how glad I am, even though you almost don’t remember me.” She looked up at me, and her eyes shone with more than just happiness and hope, but a stalwart resolve. “And if you are alive, it changes everything.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, growing confused once again. And I still couldn’t decide if it really was a good thing that I had just met Trixie. It felt like I almost remembered something about her I didn’t like, not at all, and I wasn’t talking about that encounter in Ponyville.

“I will explain it on the way,” she curtly replied and motioning with her hoof turned to the exit, prepared to leave. “Let’s go.”

“Wait!” I myself refused to move, it was all too sudden for me, I had too many questions. “Where are we going? And what about Pinkie Pie? Why is she here?” I glanced at her body supine on the slab of stone.

Trixie unceremoniously grabbed me with her magic, which felt like a bucket of icy water was doused on me, and began to drag me behind herself as she headed from the temple.

“She isn’t going anywhere, but we are going to my place,” she threw over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Twilight, I will answer all your questions and more.”

Though I didn’t really appreciate such treatment, I could understand it – whatever Trixie had in mind, she acted with the urgency of somepony who had finally seen an opportunity after many years of waiting. She had finally gotten a chance to realize her hope. And nor did I remember her as an extremely polite pony.

For the first few minutes we trotted through the tunnels in silence, or rather, Trixie trotted and I cantered behind her, trying to catch up with her long-legged gait. Not taking into account the fact she was navigating the ever changing underground without any trouble, there was another ominous thing about her – the way she dealt with the darkness. Her majestic horn didn’t glow, on the contrary – the shadows, concentrated to pitch black ribbons, swirled and bubbled around it. There wasn’t any light, there was an absence of darkness around us. It certainly was unnatural, and without any doubt dark magic was involved. At first it troubled me greatly, but then I remembered that when I worked with Trixie she had already been using it and apparently I thought it wasn’t much of an issue back then.

With Trixie, who lived at the same time as I did and then through the next five centuries, I had, maybe not thousands, but hundreds questions I wanted to ask. And for the first time in a while I felt like I would finally be able to get all the answers.

I thought of Pinkie and the mystery of how her body had ended up in the Deep Tunnels of all places, of my other friends and their unknown fates. I thought of Spike and my forthcoming journey to Stalliongrad. I remembered the Royal Archives, full of misinformation and I recalled the question I asked back then, the key question which held the answer to everything.

“Trixie,” I called her. She turned to glance at me over her shoulder and slowed down a bit. There was a look in her eyes like she was a teacher who was waiting, wondering when her student would finally give up and demand the resolution for the undefeatable riddle.

“What happened to Equestria?” The response to this question probably wouldn’t be short, but it would be the answer to most, if not all, of my countless inquiries.

Trixie slowed further down, until we walked side by side. It was a weird thought, but her towering figure brought back memories of how Princess Celestia had taught me during our walks through the Royal Gardens.

For some time she simply walked forward, deep in her thoughts. For the first time I really paid attention to our surroundings, and I was left disturbed by them. The passage was very ambiguous in nature – I couldn’t tell if it was artificial and deteriorated with time, or natural but refined. It also felt as though we were passing the same place over and over, so monotonous it was.

Then finally she spoke.

“The thing is, it all began after that accident with you and Rainbow Dash,” Trixie said thoughtfully, recollecting memories of what had transpired half a millennium ago. “All of the unicorns who were there were knocked out. You survived, but were seriously injured.” There were words unspoken in that phrase. Even though I accepted Rainbow’s death, it was no less painful to hear about it.

There was a momentary pause as Trixie glanced at me with empathy. She knew what I felt – she couldn’t not, if we indeed were friends. Letting me mourn for a moment more, she continued.

“The incident had everypony shaken to the core, but Rarity got it the worst.” I dreaded to hear what happened next. Though many ponies would say Fluttershy was the most emotional of my friends, I knew that the demure pegasus had a steel-hard core deep inside her, while Rarity was always pure emotion through and through.

“She seized total control of the temporary government with a group of her political allies – it was a military coup, basically.” I blinked in surprise. I wouldn’t say it was impossible, but it was a really unexpected move from Rarity’s side. The only reason she alone remained involved in the running the temporary government was that she could at least do something, unlike the rest of us. And she also personally knew most of the Canterlot elite, most importantly, the nobles.

“The first thing they did was remove you and Moondancer from the executive positions.” I frowned – I didn’t like where this was going. Trixie glanced at me warily, before proceeding, “Right after, they ordered the production of five dozen cybersuits.”

“What!?” I exclaimed in utter shock and anger. But the armor failed! Rainbow died, I was injured… Rarity had lost her mind, clearly – while loss after loss drove me into the clutches of phlegmatic depression, Rarity was overtaken by maniacal desperation.

“Yes,” confirmed Trixie, unperturbed by my outburst. “You were in a coma, and though Moondancer was already awake by that point, she couldn’t protest, since she had no power anymore.” I was still seething from the sheer stupidity of that decision, muttering curses under my breath.

“However,” Trixie said loudly, in order to quiet me, “the cybersuits not only didn’t explode, but they turned the tables of the war.” I was sincerely jarred by this news. So it might not be my failure then, it was either an accident or sabotage. That brought little peace to my mind, though. After all, no matter what happened, it took Rainbow away.

We took another sharp turn and once again I wondered how Trixie knew the way through the Deep Tunnels. Though it was unlikely, she could even have been the one who cast the spell on them. Dark magic didn’t equal power, but I couldn’t discard that possibility either. I would certainly ask her later, but right now I yearned to learn about what happened next – her words finally promised something good.

“After a year of victories, the Equestrian army came to the walls of the Crystal Palace. However, the siege couldn’t succeed, not until King Sombra was betrayed...” Suddenly, her voice trailed off and a hollow melancholic expression overtook her features. She must have been there, I realized, living through the horrors of the war.

Trixie cleared her throat, making me wonder if it was just a symbolic gesture, or if she had living flesh hidden under the arcanium armor. I still didn’t know if she had an entirely mechanical body. In the recording she mentioned that the transference might have worked if dark magic was used. But again, no matter how good that question was, I had to focus on the story of the events which took place after my “death”.

“The war was won that day.” Even though Trixie managed to compose herself, her voice was strained and it didn’t sound jubilant in the slightest. “But by the next week all the cities in Equestria, except for Canterlot, fell one after another.”

It felt like she struck me, I staggered so hard, I had to stop to prevent myself from falling. Trixie held my shoulder and as I flashed her a pained glance, in her eyes I saw the same hurt, if not stronger.

“How?” I managed to squeeze out only one word from my quivering lips. Manehattan, Fillydelphia, Baltimare, Vanhoover, Las Pegasus, Cloudsdale… hundreds of thousands of pony lives.

“It was the last order King Sombra had given to the Coven – to strike the largest cities. Manehattan was the sole city to evacuate its population, but only partially.” One last atrocity from that monster, carried out by his acolytes, no less vile. The amount of blood it took to wash the stain of his hatred from this world was horrifying. I understood why that war was called “Great” now.

“But it was only the beginning,” Trixie continued in a somber and sorrowful tone. Everything inside me shrunk. If the loss of most of the Equestrian population was only the start – what horrible things could have come after? But even before she spoke again, I realized that it was only what followed the Great War that defined the world now, not the war itself.

Trixie looked at me with pained sympathy, similar to the medics who had to inform their patients of the imminent amputation of a limb. It was going to hurt, I knew, it was going to cripple.

She gulped and cast her eyes to the floor.

“Shining Armor was assassinated by the remnants of the Coven a week after his return. Princess Luna didn’t return and wasn’t answering any missives. The temporary government not only didn’t step down from power, they took a tighter grip on what was left from Equestria. In the next few years things became so bad Pinkie and Fluttershy organized a rebellion, but it was crushed. Fluttershy was exiled to the Everfree Forest and Pinkie was put into an asylum.”

Every sentence was spoken in a voice devoid of any emotion, with the haste of a precise cut, something that had to be done despite the pain it inflicted. I began to shake. The Crown, the Pink Butterflies – it all began to make horrifying sense, the answers I craved for so much had finally found me, but they came at a price.

“What happened to Cadence?” I blurted out in desperation. “Why had nopony contacted Princess Luna directly? Why wasn’t I the part of that rebellion? Where was Applejack?” But I knew I was only making it worse, thrashing on the operational table against the knives of truth slicing my body to numbness.

“King Sombra executed Cadence during the first year of war. Princess Luna was reported to have finally found the changeling hive and sacrifice herself to destroy it. The magic explosion was so strong that it could have been felt in Canterlot. And you had just come out of a coma, blind and semi-paralyzed. Applejack had had problems with her health and died a few years before the rebellion.” The painful answers in a detached voice rang through the air.

The world span before my eyes and I found myself on my knees. I couldn’t remember the fall. Trixie was instantly at my side, holding my shuddering form in her hooves. With my face pressed against her chest I wept.

I wept for my brother and for my sister-in-law. Knowing that they had passed away was one thing, but learning how was completely different. The cursed Great War took them away, and what was most maddening was the fact that it was fought for nothing in the end.

I wept for Princess Luna. Even though I already knew of her terrible fate, hearing it confirmed only re-opened that wound. The fact that she avenged Princess Celestia’s murder barely held any nobility; the throne was sacrificed for that.

I wept for my friends – now I was certain that the Archive entries were lies, behind which lay painful truths. Pinkie and Fluttershy banished like criminals. Rainbow and Applejack dead, the latter most likely assassinated – I refused to believe she fell victim to any illness at such an young age. And Rarity simply went insane.

I wept for Equestria. It was no more, succumbed to the madness which followed the war.

Even though I knew that in another life, another Twilight must have shed many actual tears for each and every one of these losses, I still wept.

However, the grief didn’t consume me entirely – albeit ravaged by sorrow, I was still clearly hearing the voice of reason placating me. I wasn’t mourning as much at their demise as the circumstances. Half a millennium passed, only a few, like Trixie, had endured the onslaught of time, but they were the exception, everypony I knew should have been gone a long time ago. It was the knowledge I carried with myself from the moment I learned how long my “sleep” had lasted.

I suddenly understood why I actually attempted the transference. Despite everything, I didn’t give up – the mechanical body was the only option for me to oppose the darkness that was engulfing Equestria, I was crippled and I was...

Held by two metal hooves I grew completely still – the words said by Trixie echoed in my mind and one of them had finally caught up with me.

“...And you had just come out of a coma, blind...”

And other words, spoken hours ago by the corrupt priest resonated sharply from my memory in answer.

“...they betrayed our Goddess! They blinded her…”

Coincidence is a lazy word for lazy ponies.

I stubbornly refused to believe it, though I once again returned to that crazy theory. It had to be wrong, I was imagining things. Tweaking the results. Hanging on to words. It couldn’t be true – the Machine Goddess was in the Sky Palace, waiting for her children, and I was here. The transference took away my life when it was attempted. For every match of the facts there was a contradiction. It was nonsense.

Another of Starswirl’s quotes came to my mind: “When you think things through, either everything makes sense or nothing does.”

And so I asked a question that must have sounded strange and very out of place in the current situation, but I knew that the pony who was still holding me in her hooves was the only one who could put an end to this conundrum.

“Trixie,” I said in a tight voice and looked up to meet her eyes. Somehow, she looked like she knew what I was about to ask, “who is the Machine Goddess?”

She didn’t look surprised at the question, but a melancholic forlorn expression once again overtook her face.

“So, you know already.”

My proverbial heart fell in my chest. She must have been joking.

All of a sudden, Trixie spoke in a clear loud voice thick with nostalgia.

“I was already living in the Tunnels when Pinkie managed to escape from the asylum and found me. Some time after, you and Moondancer learned about her and started to visit us. We began to work together.” She smiled recollecting the bright memories. “You worked on the enchantments, Moonie was a prodigy when it came to the mechanics, Pinkie was the best moral support any pony could wish for.” Trixie chuckled mirthlessly. “And she seemed to be the only one who remembered both of you had to eat and sleep. And I… I was helping whatever way I could. My…” she paused, searching for the right words, “predicament… left me in dire need for a replacement body, so I often served as a lab rat. Not that I minded.” Then her expression sombered. “After you were lost in the Transference, ” she motioned at my frame with her chin, “that body was taken away by the Crown.”

Cradled in her hooves, I listened to the story in astonished silence. The recollection of the events that brought Equestria to ruin hadn’t incited any positive emotions, obviously. But it was… impersonal. There was no place on their grand scale for individuals. Those times were survived by the nation. This story… every moment of it was lived, leaving a permanent mark on the heart. I could hear countless words unspoken, of the years of friendship, of light-hearted rivalry, of struggle between the four ponies, yet experienced by one singular soul.

Trixie paused again and I saw tears of liquid metal form below her eyes and trace their path down her cheeks before they became a part of her face again. “We were already very old back then. Pinkie passed away in her sleep. Moonie… she grew mad with grief. In desperation she had stolen your body from the Palace. I still remember her face when you… it… didn’t recognize Pinkie. Moondancer just let the Royal Guard take her away that day, never to be seen again.”

I felt a pang of petty and inappropriate jealousy – I wished I could cry tears too, even if it was artificial. The heavy silence stretched on and I thought it was the end of the story, but after a deep sigh, Trixie continued.

“I was left alone and…” She laughed bitterly. “I ran away. It wasn’t my best of moments.” She paused to clear the tightness in her voice. “I took the latest mechanical body, the best Moonie ever made – her magnum opus, and left Canterlot. By the time I came back, there were already runaway equinoids living in the Tunnels. They learned of our lives and departures second-hoof and wove them into one single tale, the cornerstone of their faith. And I learned that Moondancer had to submit all the research you and she made, so the Transference Paradox wouldn’t be called ‘Twilight’s Paradox’. She didn’t want you to be remembered only for that.”

Yes, it was all making sense now, indeed. I wasn’t the Machine Goddess, the four us were. In a sense, she had never existed, but she wasn’t a lie either. Before, I didn’t know what to think, because I couldn’t believe the truth. Now, I didn’t know what the truth was anymore.

As if reading my mind, Trixie spoke in her strange echoing voice. Like two ponies speaking almost in unison, I realized.

“Between the two of us left alive, only you deserve that title – after all, you were the one who created the fundamental enchantments for artificial intelligence – the Prime Code, the only thing Moondancer refused to submit.” The glimpse of that giddy smile from before graced her face. “And, you are here and now. I’m just a pony who wore the body made by the best mechanic to ever live.”

I got up from Trixie’s hooves and sat on the floor not far from her.

If I had learned something, it was that I had to face the truths and accept them, no matter how hard they were. But it wasn’t as much about the hardness as about the sheer scale, something I knew from the first time that guess visited my mind.

I wasn’t the Machine Goddess, but I was the closest to her anypony ever had been or would be. Was it my responsibility? After all, I did have a hoof in creating them, even more – my mind gave birth to their “souls”. Was it my right? Who I was to take the mantle of a deity? I was just a pony, as lost in this nightmare as they were. Could I allow myself to leave Canterlot now, when I was supposed to be the mother for an orphaned nation? Would I snuff their hope out with my own hoof? Would I absolve them of any future but rust?

Minutes passed by as I gazed into the darkness of the tunnel, but it answered not. Nopony held the answer to any of these questions, only me.

Behind me, Trixie called. I turned and saw the genuine empathy in her eyes. We were friends, after all. Like any of them, she could read me like an open book, something that always irked me and yet warmed my heart.

“It is only up to you what to make of all of this, but there is one thing you must know, something I intended to tell you from the beginning.” I took a few steps towards her. “You may think all is lost, but there is hope still.”

I blinked. I remembered, the words Trixie said, that my presence was changing everything. But she wasn’t talking about the Machine Goddess, was she?

“When I left Canterlot I traveled across all Equestria – to the ruins of the destroyed cities, found a great friend out where. Together we’ve journeyed even beyond the borders of Equestria.” There was that look again, the melancholic recollection of things gone so long ago, but still dear. But this time there was something else to it. “And at the Badlands we saw… her.”

A bizarre mix of dread and desperate hope in the eyes of the immortal.

Trixie gulped.

“Princess Luna might have died. But Nightmare Moon… she still lives.”

What.

Did I hear that right? Nightmare Moon was alive? But… that was not how things worked. Nightmare Moon was Luna, they were not two separate entities… There was room for debate in the case of the Machine Goddess, but everything Trixie had just said was wrong on every level.

“Slow down, Trixie.” I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt; after all, she saw something. “Start from the beginning: what exactly did you see?”

“After visiting the ruins of Baltimare we decided to go to Dodge City right through Hayseed Swamps, but without the map we got lost and ended up in the Badlands instead,” she began explaining in a hasty and somewhat offended manner. “I’ve never been there before, but I was sure it wasn’t supposed to be covered in alarm spells at every step, cast by a pony no less. We learned it only when it was too late, and the night, Twilight, it descended on us, claiming that we were changelings in the most horrifying voice I’ve ever heard.” Trixie shuddered. “I don’t know how we made it out alive. Both of us lost our bodies.”

I decided not to pay my attention to the last detail, instead I focused on what Trixie said before. Paradoxically, it seemed she was right – everything was pointing to Princess Luna having survived, but her state of mind was an altogether different question. That fact was implying a few other questions: if she had survived and accomplished her task, why didn’t she return? Why was she still out there, hunting? Had she destroyed the hive?

However, there was one more important question.

“You do realize I can’t use the Elements, right?” I was not only alone, but they stopped working for me a long time ago, and I wasn’t sure that would ever change.

“I know, but we aren’t talking about the Nightmare Moon,” Trixie retorted patiently. “She hasn’t brought eternal night or anything like that, she is just mad with a vendetta. I’m pretty sure if she is to meet somepony she knows, her mind will clear up.” However, I couldn’t hear any certainty in Trixie’s voice.

Trixie was looking at me with so much hope and expectation in her eyes that I couldn’t bear it. I sat down, stared at my hooves and began to think.

I could imagine for her it was all pretty simple – the Goddess would come and fix everything. Except it wasn’t. While I wished Queen Chrysalis’ death no less than Princess Luna, in the latter years of the war I started to find her conviction… unhealthy. I didn’t know if it was her zeal or something else, but Princess Luna eventually abstracted herself from all the issues Equestria had at that moment, even though her help would have been invaluable. It often felt as if Queen Chrysalis killed both Princesses. So, bringing her back wouldn’t miraculously resolve anything, and some things, like the lack of resources or the unnatural winters – such things were beyond her power anyway. But. According to Tin Flower’s words, somepony from the Crown had taken on themselves the responsibility for the sun and moon, and though it might happen many years later, that pony would become unable to guide the celestial bodies when Canterlot finally shared the fate of the other cities in Equestria. It was not Equestria that needed Princess Luna, but the entire world.

That was not how I expected the meeting with a Former One to go. Instead of clearing things up and helping me with my predicament, things had suddenly gotten much more convoluted, presenting me with burdens of a great scale. And the worst thing was that I had a choice. I had no real obligation to help either Trixie or the equinoids. There was friendship between Flower, Wire, Delight and me. Even with all that aside, I owed them. I had to save Spike, obviously. However, I didn’t really belong to this world, to its problems. In a sense, my life was a blank page, I had gotten a second chance. And what I had just learned was threatening to blot it out with blood-red ink, for Canterlot had no other colors left.

But I knew I wouldn’t be able to live with that if I just left. The Elements of Harmony had stopped working for me, but I couldn’t stop working for them, it seemed.

“What is your plan, then?” I asked Trixie, finally raising my eyes to meet hers. It was like giving a present to a filly on Hearth’s Warming Eve. And I found it funny that a pony who used dark magic was able to radiate so much sunniness.

“We are going to my hideout, where I will grab the map and some crystals, and then I’m taking you to the workshop before departing to the Badlands.“ A simple plan, but good, though the part with the workshop wasn’t really necessary.

“I’ve just been at the chapel, the technopriest told me that I’m good,” I voiced my thoughts, noting that mention of the Church made Trixie scowl in annoyance momentarily.

“It is not about maintenance,” she retorted and then explained, “you’re going to need harder hooves, the path is going to be rocky, you will grind these to nothing half-way.”

A fair point. Especially considering the fact that I was planning to ask her for a detour.

“Do you remember the filly I mentioned, who made my first body?” How strange it must have sounded, I realized. “I’d like to visit her before we head to the Badlands. We aren’t in a hurry, are we?” I decided not to mention that I would have visited Flower regardless of what Trixie was going to answer. Paradoxically, that filly meant more to me than a goddess.

“We aren’t. I’d like to see the genius who brought you back to life with my own eyes,” she said with a chuckle. “She must be living at the Junkyard.” I nodded. “It is on the way.”

Trixie stood up, dusted off her cloak – the remains of her old cape and hat stitched together, I realized – and twirled on her hooves. And then she began to trot in the direction we came from.

“Erm, Trixie…” She stopped and turned her head to me, one brow raised in question. I could have asked her about her strange choice of route, but instead I struck deeper: “How do you orient yourself in these tunnels? They kept changing almost right before my eyes.”

“You don’t know?” Trixie asked, surprised. It was my turn to raise my brow. “How did you find the Temple of the Forgotten Deities?” she inquired, sounding even more incredulous.

“Some lunatic showed me the way,” I replied. In retrospect I realized how incredibly lucky I was.

“Yeah, Pinkie acts like a magnet for them,” Trixie shook her head in disapproval and then motioned with her hoof to follow. As I caught up with her, walking by her towering form again, she continued to speak, “The secret of the Deep Tunnels is that you have to know exactly where you want to end up and to want it. No map is needed, only confidence. Doesn’t work for generic places, like an ‘exit’ or ‘entrance’.”

“But how?” I asked in bewilderment. It wasn’t just a curse or a spell, it was something beyond my comprehension.

“Nopony knows,” she said with a grimace – it must have been very annoying to live for five centuries and still not know the answer to such an important question. “Dr. Hooves says it’s a tear in time and space caused by some very powerful magic, but he says a lot of crazy things.”

Doctor Hooves… That name sounded familiar.

“Is he that weird earth stallion scientist with the hourglass cutie mark, who had a workshop in Ponyville?” I finally conjured all the facts I knew of Dr. Hooves from the depths of my mind.

“Don’t know about the Ponyville part, but, yeah, it is him,” confirmed Trixie. “After the Great War he got his hooves on a huge batch of arcanium and a decade later he found a way to violate the very rules of time flow.” Suddenly she spluttered with laughter. “The Crown found him guilty of using dark magic, an earth pony, can you imagine? So he fled to the Tunnels and continued to study his crazy ‘quantum’ science here.”

“So, Dr. Hooves is a Former One? Like you?” Trixie grimaced at the “like you” part, but otherwise nodded. “How many of the Former Ones are in Canterlot? Can I meet them?” I asked a question I itched to know since I had learned about those ponies. Now that I had sated my curiosity regarding the global changes, the time for more mundane inquiries had come.

I saw Trixie furrow her brow in thought and mouth silent words.

“There have been about forty Former Ones in Canterlot over the last five hundred years,” she said thoughtfully, still counting ponies in her mind, “right now less than fifteen are left and you may already know half of them.” Trixie glanced at me and I titled my head, prompting her to continue. “Well, I’ve told you about Dr. Hooves already, then there is Sunburst, though he spends most of his time recovering books from the ruins of Neighponia; the mare who was called Raven Inkwell back in your days, goes by the name Fotia Koraki now; Soarin, once a Wonderbolt, now a Lobster.” Trixie felt silent, though her lips continued moving. A pained expression visited her face. “And… Octavia Melody. But she isn’t in Canterlot right now.”

Some of these names I indeed recognized and these were the last ponies I expected to become immortal. Raven Inkwell? She was Princess Celestia’s secretary, if I wasn’t mistaken. Some things didn’t make any sense to me at all – “a lobster”, or what happened to Neighponia. And Octavia… could she be the mare Scuff Gear mentioned? I thought she was a musician back in my day, but I wasn’t sure.

“I think I’ve heard of Octavia.” I didn’t want to know as much about her as about her destination. “Is she the one who went to Stalliongrad?”

“How do you know?” Trixie broke from her nostalgic reverie to squint at me in surprise and suspicion.

“I’ve met a stallion at the Edge, a mechanic called Scuff Gear, I think he might have worked with you at some point.” Trixie’s eyes brightened instantly at the mention of his name, her face dissolving into a smile.

“Scuffy!” she exclaimed and added, shaking her head in amazement, “I thought he died in the job when we tried to rid the Tunnels of that necromancer cretin, whatever-was-his-name.”

However, besides the sincere joy, there was a slight strain in her voice. It didn’t escape me that Trixie had not-so-subtly tried to change the topic, and she also knew that I noticed. On one hoof I didn’t want to disturb her old wound – Octavia obviously was a very dear pony to her, but on the other, Princess Luna and equinoids or not, I still couldn’t discard the possibility of “moving” to Stalliongrad.

“And what about Stalliongrad?” I asked again, focusing only on the place this time, but got no answer – as the seconds passed by, Trixie remained stubbornly silent. I couldn’t tell if it was her grief or if she was just too lost in her memories. “I actually thought of fleeing there with Tin Flower, the filly who ‘resurrected’ me, and a few other ponies I’ve met,” I added after a few moments, trying to bring back to life our dead conversation from exactly where it ended.

As I said that I realized I didn’t really know what I was supposed to do after confronting Princess Luna. Stalliongrad was still an option, mostly because I didn’t know any other. And I had no idea what Trixie herself was planning to do. I seriously doubted she would recommend staying in Canterlot. But if not Stalliongrad, there had to be other places, or she might have something else entirely in mind.

“It has been fifty years,” Trixie suddenly said in a firm yet sad voice. “I will think of your words, but only after we get to Princess Luna.” Then she fell silent and broody again.

So, she, too, had no other ideas except for Stalliongrad and no concrete plan at all, it seemed. My only hope was that it wasn’t caused by a complete lack of options left for those who were stranded in Canterlot.

We spent the rest of our journey in the heavy silence of Trixie’s ruminations, which I didn’t dare to disturb again. I spent that time absorbed in my own thoughts, digesting all the knowledge I had just received.

The monotonous stone surfaces were emerging from the darkness as we walked and disappearing in the shadows following us in hoofsteps. Eventually, we came to a black square cut in the wall. The darkness obscuring what lay behind it refused to yield and as I took a closer look I realized that it was a sheet of shimmering dark magic. Trixie touched it with the tip of her horn, and the veil dissolved in the air, revealing a room, though I could barely discern anything in there – Trixie’s “unlight” wasn’t strong enough.

“Well, here we are – my humble abode,” she commented, then winced. “I haven’t cleaned it in a long time, so don’t be scared.”

I only shrugged. After Tin Flower’s dwelling, I doubted anything could have surprised me anymore.

Yup. I wasn’t impressed.

Though, the room, which had apparently been carved by Trixie herself from the rock mass, was very dirty, it wasn’t as bad as I expected it to be. It barely had any furniture, only two flat-surfaced huge stones, presumably serving as a table and bed. There was also a workbench, but it didn’t seem to have been used in a while – it was cluttered with rusty spare parts, covered in a thick layer of grey dust.

What was impressive, however, was the immense collection of various little things on the shelves cut in the uneven walls, taking up all the space from the floor to the ceiling. Knick-knacks, crystals of all sizes and colors, leather-bound ancient folios, dilapidated scrolls… hundreds of unique objects I had trouble categorizing, so many of them resided on the dusty stone. Things of value, sentimental and practical, accumulated over half a millennium. Many magical, I could sense that.

“May I take a closer look?” I asked, driven by overwhelming curiosity, feeling like a filly in a bookstore.

“Sure,” came the muffled answer – Trixie was rummaging through the scrolls on of the lower shelves, muzzle deep in them, a thick cloud of dust around her. “Just be careful, I can’t remember what half of them are, but some can be dangerous.”

I dismissed her words and rushed to the nearest shelf with books, tugging them out with my magic. However, as soon as it came into my view, I dropped it with a shriek.

A flattened pony face was looking at me from the floor with empty eye sockets, the toothless mouth agape in silent eternal agony. Black ribbons of shadows enveloped it and gingerly put it back with its leather-bound brethren. “Warned you,” chuckled Trixie.

It was horrible, disgusting even, but what else should I have expected from a pony who practiced dark magic?

I proceeded with studying the shelves contents much more carefully, keeping away from the books and scrolls. I had the suspicion that the latter weren’t written on parchment.

To my dismay, most of the things I took a closer look at weren’t as interesting as they seemed at first, but rather disturbing. A set of basalt daggers, likely sacrificial. Weathered stones with eldritch runes carved in them. An entire shelf dedicated to glass spheres filled with swirling inky shadows. Small yellow bones of creatures I didn’t recognise. Crystals, bare and encased in metal, sometimes connected to devices. Tiny, yet complex clockwork mechanisms. Vials with murky liquids.

I could recognize nothing of it.

I was slowly walking by the shelves and marveling at the bizarre collection, when I felt like somepony was watching me. Somehow I knew that it was a hateful glare. I turned back to where Trixie was picking up crystals from shelves, studying them and then putting the gems either into the cloth bag in her hoof or back where she took them. She was completely absorbed in her task, paying me no attention, muttering something barely audible. But the sensation refused to leave me. I twirled around and my eyes fell on it.

In the far corner, on one of the shelves a jar with a pony head inside stood. And that pony was looking straight at me. I froze in shock and horror.

“T-T-Trixie…” I stammered, unable to divert my eyes from the sight. I heard the clicking of crystals and shuffle of hooves from where she stood.

“Oh, that,” she said after a few moments, “meet Mordant, the bitch who decided to play dark mage and thought that it would be very fun to kill everypony and everyone who lives in the Tunnels.” Trixie accompanied her words with a literal growl. “Took me an entire year and three bodies to take her down.”

As if I was enchanted, I slowly approached the jar, driven by some twisted curiosity.

Inside the cylindrical tube adorned with dark pulsing gemstones and fortified with oxidized vertical metal bars, the head floated. Through the dirty glass it was giving me a glare so baleful and hateful, that it was close to rivaling the mad eyes of the Ebony Warlock himself. Even though the head was scarred and bruised, colorless and furless from the time spent in the liquid, I could tell Mordant was once a quite beautiful mare. Now, bloated and deformed, with scraps of skin signifying that it was torn from the body rather than cut, it incited only abhorrence. I noted the runes rudely cut into the skin in a few places and the chapped lips sewn shut with a thick thread.

Despite everything, I felt pity deep inside of me. Surely, her crimes sounded horrible, but why not just kill her?

“Why is she like this?” I asked turning to Trixie, who moved to the next wall, still gathering gems.

“She is a Former One, from the later times. A lich, like you,” came her answer. I remembered Trixie mentioning that word, but I didn’t know what it meant. As if feeling the unspoken question, she explained, “Liches are dark mages, or not, in your case, who enchant items called phylacteries to be anchors for their entity in the physical world.” She scowled at Mordant. “So when they die, they actually don’t and return back to life some time later. This moron had made, like, a hundred phylacteries, so I can’t kill her and have to keep her alive.”

I felt no pity for Mordant anymore, however, there was now newfound respect for Trixie. Though I still didn’t know what compelled her to turn to dark magic, she was using it for a good cause.

I decided that was enough of this room for me.

I walked to Trixie and took the bag from her hooves, holding it open for her, providing my help and studying its contents at the same time.

Inside were a couple dozen unremarkable crystals and a few pieces of metal, but not just any – they were small slivers of arcanium. I could understand why the metal, though using arcanium for horseshoes felt like a huge waste. But the crystals?

“What do you need them for?” I frowned. Was she going to enchant the gems and incorporate them into my frame? Or…

“I need them to trade,” Trixie replied and another small metal nugget fell into the bag. “Arcanium too.”

Eh? I thought Equestria had the official currency, even in a place like this it had to have more value than any tradable objects.

“Don’t you have any e-bits?” I imagined that a mare like her would have had a small hoard after a couple of centuries.

“E-bits are for citizens,” Trixie scoffed and after a short pause explained, “A pony is born in Canterlot, a pony gets a tattoo on the neck in special ink.” I remembered how Delight had got her neck scanned at the eatery. “It’s their identification and the bank account number. E-bit is a cryptocurrency, so it can only be digital.” Trixie poked her neck with her hoof, producing a sharp click. “No stamp on your neck – no money for you, simple as that.”

It explained a lot and for a moment I admired such a system, there was a lot of order and efficiency in it. But then I started to see downsides, such as the ponies who were born at the Edge, like Tin Flower, not counted as citizens. I didn’t know a single thing about “cryptocurrency”, but I could imagine that a type of currency which existed only virtually must have its own specific issues.

“And what if that pony gets injured at that place?” I asked the most obvious implication of that system. A single cut while being non-lethal could have still “killed” a pony as a citizen.

“I don’t do that usually, it’s too messy,” Trixie replied without missing a beat. It took me a few moments before the meaning of her words caught up with me. I sent her a judging look so scathing that she faltered. “Er, I mean, they are really unlucky then.”

We continued to trot by the shelves, gathering any pieces of arcanium and the crystals Trixie was willing to part with.

“What were you doing all this time?” I voiced the question that suddenly occurred to me. I did not know of many creatures that had a really long lifespan. Dragons slumbered on their hordes, the Princesses governed countries (or hunted down changelings), phoenixes… well, I didn’t know what they did, actually. How would a dark mage, even one who wasn’t acting like such, spend her life?

“Mmph,” mumbled Trixie with a scroll in her mouth. A moment later she fished out a cracked crystal from behind other scrolls and with a scoff sent it flying back into the dust. “Many things, mostly studying magic and trying to stop The Tunnels from killing themselves, they are really good at that.”

I had no doubt about the last part. Though it was hard for me to evaluate Trixie’s skill in magic, because it wasn’t an arcane school I knew anything about or even approved of, I kinda expected her to be a master of it. Five hundred years would be enough for anypony to become a real professional in any field. And it prompted my next inquiry.

“What happened to you?” All I had got so far was that she began using dark magic at some point after the Great War or during it. Apparently, it had taken a hard toll on her body, which wasn’t unusual for witchcraft. But I didn’t know any finer details which actually mattered. “I’m sorry if it’s too personal of a question,” I hastily added.

“It’s fine, after all, you already knew it once.” The familiar expression of disant melancholy visited her face of living metal. From the past I summoned the memories once painful, but lived through so many times that they became dear to their owner.

“I was cursed during the Great War and used a spell I didn’t really comprehend.” I glanced at Trixie with sympathy, and with a bitter smile she continued, “It turned me into a living shadow. The worst part is that I am a shade on both the magical and physical planes.” She grimaced in annoyance. “That means I can’t have an actual body or use any magic other than dark. While it didn’t take me very long to learn that I can posses artificial bodies, I spent years inventing the simplest spells, because everything works very differently with dark magic.”

That was not what I expected to hear at all. I remembered Trixie as a mare who was an embodiment of boasting and I thought that using dark magic was just her way to become “Great and Powerful”. But the fact that it wasn’t even a voluntary decision, which I could tell, changed her drastically – instead of corrupting Trixie, dark magic taught her humility. However, I couldn’t say I rejoiced at that – the price was too high.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” was all I could say. I realized now we had more in common than I ever had with anypony – we both were prisoners of a cursed immortality we didn’t choose.

“Nah, I’m alright,” Trixie dismissed my words, smiling light-heartedly. “I’ve gotten used to it over five centuries. And Pinkie helped a lot.” I could imagine that, optimism sprang eternal in her.

“How are you faring, Twilight?” Trixie suddenly asked, looking at me intently.

With all the talk about the past, Canterlot and Trixie, I hadn’t really paid attention to the feelings deep inside of me.

“I guess... I’m alright too.” I actually felt better now, when I had somepony who could understand my plights. Though the truths I learned still stung, and the future looked very concerning. “I woke without my magic and had a few problems in the beginning, but now I’m fine, more or less.” I smiled and Trixie smiled back. “I will get used to it.”

With the canvas bag full of crystals and pieces of arcanium, we left Trixie’s dwelling. The flicker of shadows around her horn made the sheet of blackness coalesce in the doorframe.

Our path lay to a workshop belonging to two mechanics Trixie had a longstanding business relationship with. Because of the specifications of her body, which in fact was a bit different from the average equinoid frame on a deep technical level, she couldn’t go to just any place. The fact that Trixie was a Former One wasn’t helping the issue, as she complained she had trouble finding a decent technician since she had parted ways with Scuff Gear, who was also tolerant of her as a dark mage and a Former One.

Since the Deep Tunnels were a barely traversable enchanted labyrinth, the workshop wasn’t there, obviously. However, paradoxically, we had to go deeper. As I continued to batter Trixie with countless questions, I learned that we were wending our way to one of the “Wells”, huge, hundred meters deep sewer collectors serving as community hubs for the underground of Canterlot. It didn’t come to me as a surprise that the Tunnels were in fact the remains of the old sewer system; it was something I had suspected for a long time already.

I had also learned that the Tunnels, both Deep and not had much more order to them than it might have seemed. The very first level served as a neutral ground for absolutely everypony, or, more accurate, everyone, since the population of Canterlot, especially underground, was very varied these days. The next three floors were the ponies’, where they dominated in numbers and power. And while the Wells weren’t ruled by any particular faction, they were often considered the ponies’ grounds as well, because of their abundance there. The fifth level belonged solely to the zebras, who served as both brokers and peacemakers between the upper levels and the next two – the equinoids’ domain, or, since the relatively recent times, the Church’s. The Deep Tunnels didn’t follow the “level” system, but there were more or less permanent areas, inhabited by the various groups, mostly religious cults and communities of those who were born with severe mutations.

The thing that struck me the most – nopony knew how deep the Tunnels went. At some point the artificial system of sewers and maintenance passages met both natural ways burrowed through bedrock by time and water and the ancient paths dug by the Diamond Dogs. There was a group of creatures not limited to ponies, who called themselves “The Cataclysm Watchers” and believed that they could wait out the end of the world underground, but only if they were deep enough. So they drilled for many decades. They claimed to have made a shaft as deep as the Sky Palace went high – and it pierced the clouds.

“I suspect,” Trixie said thoughtfully, “that the Deep Tunnels might have existed long before Canterlot began to develop its “roots” and that they had already been this way.” She paused for a moment, and when I glanced at her I saw apprehension and trepidation written across her face. “There were things prowling in the darkness when we first came here, horrible creatures bearing traces of magic so raw, so ancient. A few other Former Ones and I hunted them for years but I’m afraid some might have survived.” I shuddered as the memory of the tunnel with flesh-covered walls returned to me.

However, not only did the thought of a living nightmare come to my mind – there was one creature in that darkness, magical but not ancient, well, relatively speaking.

“I’ve met Spike,” I simply stated, knowing that it was enough to imply the questions I wanted answered. Trixie winced hard upon hearing that, prompting me to raise my eyebrow – it wasn’t the reaction I expected.

“And he didn’t attack you?” she asked incredulously. I shook my head.

“I wish I could tell you something concrete, but I’m afraid I know little more than you,” she said with a sigh. Madness – that was all I knew. “I can only say that it was dark magic that made him act this way, but I have no idea how it happened.”

“What do you mean?” I furrowed my brow.

“I’d never met Spike before he went insane, but from what I learned from you, he returned from the Great War relatively normal. Shortly after that, he was sent to the Dragon Lands as an ambassador, to prevent the dragons from exhibiting any aggression towards Equestria.” That sounded reasonable, considering how weakened Equestria had been after the war and knowing the long-standing tensions between our nations. “When I myself returned from my journey he was already here in the state he is now. I did try to help him, but the only thing I achieved was losing my body.”

And I thought I would find something in the Archives… But it didn’t matter.

“I’m going to help him,” I said in a hard voice. Trixie looked at me with concern and then nodded.

“I will help you in whatever way I can, but it isn’t going to be an easy task.” I gave her a questioning glance. “First of all we have to find a way to locate him, I have no idea how to do that.”

Nor did I, but that didn’t mean it was impossible. Spike was a dragon after all, so he should have some kind of hoard at this age, or a lair, at least. Also, Princess Luna could be of help – alicorns had always shared a special bond with dragons.

We continued to walk in silence – I decided to give Trixie a moment of respite from my curiosity even though she didn’t really seem to mind my impromptu interrogation at all. Eventually, she stopped using her “unlight” spell – our surroundings had finally started to have light on their own. Nor did they look anymore like something lost in time and space – signs of civilization, like trash, unfortunately, began to appear, along with the trademark smell. Then we began to meet ponies, zebras and equinoids, though they were giving us a wide berth, glancing warily at Trixie.

The tunnel we used ended with an opening and an unsafe looking rusted railing. Trixie led me directly to it and I stood with my mouth agape, marveling at the sight before my eyes – we had come to the Well.

Beyond the railing, the floor ended abruptly in a vast vertical shaft with its bottom barely visible. It also went up, but I couldn’t see the ceiling at all, because the space inside the Well wasn’t empty – an enormous cluster of catwalks and what looked like assortments of scrap from the Junkyard speckled with sporadic lights hung precariously in the lumen, defying any reason and safety measures. It was as if a huge spider had woven a web from twisted rusty metal, catching countless fireflies in it, and then passed away in that web, its corpse now being dismantled by countless ants.

The assemblage of shacks and bridges was taking up a few dozen of the floors, connecting to them, making me wonder what exactly held this enormous bloated construction in the air. I really hoped that magic was involved, otherwise that settlement could turn into a tragedy at any moment.

Of course, being a hub for a vast territory of the underground, it teemed with activity to the point that this entire metal lesion in the artery of the Canterlot sewers seemed to be constantly moving, shivering. It was mostly made up of equine silhouettes, the tall ones belonging to zebras and the skeletal to equinoids. However, I could also see bulky winged figures – griffins, and even some bipedal moving forms.

Suddenly, a gunshot thundered through the air, cutting through the faint buzz of the hub and making me jerk. It was accompanied by a bright flash of fire in my sight and a second later I saw the limp form of a pony plummet down, leaving behind it a thin trace of blood and smoke.

I glanced at Trixie with wide eyes, and she just shrugged, like it was something normal. Probably deciding that I had gotten the concept of this place she motioned with her head to follow and trotted in the direction of the nearest catwalk.

I didn’t like it from the moment I laid my eyes upon it. A long perforated plate of metal served as a bridge. Obviously it was rusty, it simply couldn’t be any other way, and that wasn’t the only thing about it that bothered me. The perforation was so uneven that I couldn’t tell if it was a natural degradation of the material or if it was created with the holes and it was just the passage of time that made them look so. The saggy rope railing didn’t look convincing either. I had known already that I weighed more than the average pony, and unless Trixie’s arcanium frame was specifically enchanted, she could be even heavier than me.

However, she trotted forward and up the bridge without missing a beat. Yes, her body had to be enchanted, because when I put my hoof on the weathered metal surface it instantly answered with an ominous creak.

“Trixie…” I began with uncertainty.

“It’s not a very long fall, you will survive, I guarantee.” She was already in the middle of the bridge and as she turned to look at me there was a smirk on her face – I couldn’t understand how she was able to joke about something like this.

“Trixie…” I hissed menacingly.

“It’s sturdier than it looks. And sounds. And feels.” I audibly growled. It had to be the dark magic giving her dementia. Or the old age. Or both. “I will try to catch if you fall. I will do my best, I promise.”

After probably the worst five minutes I had since I woke up in this world, I finally escaped from the unsteady footing of the cursed thing which didn’t have any right to be called a bridge or simply exist. Though, I had trouble leaving behind the desire to push Trixie from the narrow paths and find out if I could catch her if I did my best.

As I expected, the place was cramped, however it wasn’t really an issue. Without exception, every underground dweller who happened to be in our path was yielding it to Trixie, their expressions ranging from deep respect to outright disgust or fear.

After a few minutes of following Trixie through the hub, I realized that it wasn’t in fact a place where ponies or other creatures lived. It was a business centre, though I had a hard time calling such a congregation that since it could be easily confused for a garbage pile.

Shops in separate shacks or set on the open platforms hanging above the abyss sold all possible varieties of things, starting with questionable looking food and ending with weapons in mint-fresh condition. Workshops offered their services both to ponies with prosthetics and to equinoids, or just to repair any kinds of devices. Enchanting booths, judging by their adverts, were mostly focused on memory manipulation. Prostitutes traded their bodies, though thankfully the magic signs they were holding implied that any activity would take place beyond the hub’s unsafe scaffolding.

After we passed a small eatery selling weird looking translucent noodles and, to my horror, grilled rats, we came to an average sized shack looking like a hornets’ nest. It wasn’t anything unusual – half of the “buildings” here looked like this if not worse. What was strange, however, was the fact that the shack was apparently on fire – thick curls of smoke poured from the empty door frame and every numerous crack.

I glanced warily at Trixie but she didn’t appear concerned, rather, annoyed. As we approached closer I realized that it wasn’t smoke but that strange vapor I had encountered before. The clouds of artificial fog smelled of some herbs I could vaguely recognize as medical in purpose, but I refrained from taking a deeper breath – the atmosphere of this hub wasn’t a pleasant one. Also, I wasn’t sure if that was how my sense of smell worked anymore.

Without a knock or any warning at all, Trixie plunged herself into the mass of fumes obscuring the entrance and I followed.

It felt like I was in the steam room of Ponyville spa, so dense was the smoke. It took me some time squinting through it but eventually I was able to distinguish the outline of the interior – a very small room with two cots, one unusually big; two tables with glowing screens set on them, two figures sitting in front of them back to back. They were the mechanics, supposedly, but who were they? Their shapes were definitely not equine. In all that haze I were seeing things. I squinted at them again… no way.

I was looking at a goat and a llama.

The latter one, like a huge brown wooly worm was hunched over a tablet with a pen in their mouth, scribbling something on its surface. That llama was enormous and I couldn’t tell if it was the voluptuous coat of thick fur or the large body underneath it. It was a wonder how they even managed to fit into this tiny living space. My facial plates wrinkled in distaste as I realized that what the llama was scratching on the tablet was appearing on the screen above it – some kind of obscene drawing of a pony mare.

The dark goat with glasses, who was much smaller by comparison and wrapped in torn rags, like a mummy, was furiously typing something on the keyboard set before the screen. And judging by the device appearing in the cloven hoof every few moments and then drawn to the lips, the credit for all the vapor went to the caprine. Behind the curved horns atop an uneven mohawk, large headphones were emanating loud hideous sounds that would have made my ears bleed if I had any blood. Or actual ears.

None of them paid us any attention until Trixie loudly cleared her throat. But only the llama reacted to that sound and not even instantly. They regarded us, or rather, only Trixie for a few short moments with dark displeased eyes gleaming from under the bushy brows and behind the thick eyeglasses. The huge towering figure straightened, almost scraping the low ceiling, then bent towards its horned neighbor and slapped the back of their head with a loud juicy smack, sending the pair of glasses sailing from the goat’s muzzle.

“Ow, fuck!” The goat yelled in a male voice tearing off his headphones and blindly pawing the keyboard for the glasses. He instantly turned back when the glasses had finally found their purchase on the crooked nose, glaring at the great llama.“What was that for?”

The llama, still holding the pen in their mouth, grumbled something, revealing himself as a male and pointed with his thick pointy nail at us. At last, the goat paid us attention.

“Ah, the Magician, didn’t see you,” he greeted in a hoarse voice, rubbing the back of his head, reminding me that the Former Ones preferred not to use their real names. “Did you come for the usual?” The goat tried to use his smoking device, but began coughing violently as it was enveloped by the inky shadow of Trixie’s magic, preventing it from producing the vapor. Giving her a glare, he spat, “You still haven’t paid for the last maintenance.”

“No, I’m fine. And I’ve brought the crystals.” Trixie made the bag jingle in the air. Then she motioned with her head at me. “Just needed something for a friend.”

It seemed the goat noticed my presence for the first time and he wasn’t happy about it.

“Did you find your friend under a rock or something?” He grimaced. “She keeps staring at me like I’m going to start summoning the Elder Ones any moment.”

“Are you not?” Trixie looked around at the still lingering mist. “I thought we came in the middle of some ritual.”

The llama produced a dissatisfied grunt without stopping drawing.

“Haha. Very funny,” the goat grumbled, “What does your friend need?” He regarded me with a scrutinizing look. “I hope not the entire body replacement.”

“Just the hardened horseshoes,” replied Trixie, throwing the bag into the goat’s hooves.

The goat buried his muzzle in it studying the contents. He appeared back a few moments later with a satisfied grin showing his yellowish teeth. “Going for a walk outside, are we?”

“Yeah, gonna pay a visit to an old ‘friend’,” said Trixie winking at me. It went unnoticed by the goat mostly because he turned his attention to the llama, poking, or rather stubbing, the large form with his hoof. The way it was disappearing in the fluctuating sea of dark brown fleece made think that the llama consisted entirely of it.

“Hey, are you going to sit like a stump or are you going to help me?” At first, the llama didn’t react, continuing its scribbling, but then the pudgy limb flashed out aiming at the goat’s horns, though their owner seemed to be prepared and dodged the slap with a practiced duck.

“Ffff...fine!” the goat yelled, throwing his hooves in the air. I was pretty sure it wasn’t what he intended to say.

“Let’s go,” -he motioned us with his hoof- “I have no time and more than half of the story to finish.”

We followed the annoyed goat through the curtain on the wall leading to a small workshop.

It had no wall opposite to the entrance, but otherwise the repair room was completely normal, impressive even – despite the limited space, it wasn’t too confined. Every surface was used very efficiently, with all the tools neatly organized. And it was incredibly clean, except for an empty cup of tea on the workbench which appeared to have not been washed in forever.

As I was wondering at the little workshop, the goat rudely and suddenly tugged at me by hooking his horn under one of my plates. Making me yelp, he yanked me into the middle of the room and unceremoniously lifted my front hoof, intently studying it, like I wasn’t a sapient creature but some kind of doll. He let go of it and left me standing flabbergasted. I looked at Trixie but she only shrugged and rolled her eyes.

“Your friend, that old hag, came looking for you the other day,” the goat grumbled, rubbing his mohawk. “She didn’t say what it was about, though, only that it’s urgent.”

Trixie let out a deep sigh, though it was unclear if she was displeased with the goat’s choice of words or with the news itself.

“You could show some respect for Koraki, you know.”

“I would if she didn’t act like a huge jerk,” the mechanic barked back, sliding a metal container from under the rack near on of the walls.

“I will look at you when you get old,” Trixie retorted absentmindedly, as she appeared to to be evaluating the information she had just received.

“Not in this city, Magician,” the goat chuckled bitterly.

“So…” she said, leaning on the workbench lazily, “any other news?”

“Not much has happened since your last visit,” came the muffled voice from the box, in which the goat was rummaging noisily. “A couple of weeks ago the Cataclysm Watchers came for supplies.” He emerged with a horseshoe on his horn. Or a thing that looked like such, but wasn’t quite the same as the common apparel for equines. It was much bulkier and thicker, meant not just to protect hooves, but to almost entirely replace them. “Said they have dug into a huge cavern system, that it may have arcanium veins.” The caprine mechanic tried it on my hoof, scowled and returned to the boxes.

“They say it everytime,” dryly commented Trixie.

“Aye, but this time it may be true, they brought some for trade, the raw stuff.” The goat emerged for a moment from the box, showing with his hooves what I supposed was the size of that amount of arcanium and then returned to the content of the crate. “If I were you I would check it out, it is impossible to come by so much of it these days otherwise.”

Trixie shook her head and her brows went up briefly as she noted that information.

“Anything else?” she asked after a moment.

“Nah, only the usual.” The mechanic returned to me again, with another horseshoe hanging from his horn. “Though, the Church stirs up shit lately,” he added with a sour expression.

“Why?” the question slipped out of my mouth before I even thought. The goat gave me a momentary glance, but I couldn’t read his expression.

“Pff. Why wouldn’t they?” he scoffed. The mechanic tried on the new horseshoe, and judging by the nod he gave to himself, it fit. “Jumping on the bandwagon, I guess. The winter is in the wind, so everyone goes bats. Almost the entire Edge did for sure.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard the Junkyard still can’t get their arse into gear,” Trixie agreed with a scowl. I was paying close attention to the conversation before, but now I was all ears.

“Uh-huh. It’s been more than a week already, but that’s not the funny part,” the goat drawled.

More than a week! I thought I had spent one day in the Tunnels, two at most, but apparently my nightmares lasted much longer than it seemed. I felt a sharp pang of anxiety for Delight and Flower. They were alone for so long, and Pepper Mercury was still waging the gang war.

“What is it then?” I joined their chat again with another question. The goat mechanic didn’t pay me any attention this time, but that was probably because he was looking for the remaining three horseshoes.

“The TCE has yet to give a single fuck about it.” A lone horseshoe sailed through the air and landed not far from me with a loud bang. “I can’t remember a time they let a gang war last for more than three days. The rumor is one of the furnaces blew up.” My proverbial heart clenched in worry. “Could be the Pinks, of course, but it’s strange anyway.” Another horseshoe fell on the floor.

“And what about the other sectors?” Trixie took her turn in asking questions.

“Wait,” the goat said, his head jerking from the box and, squinting at her, “you haven’t heard about the Industry?”

“Which one?” she asked in return, leaning on the table towards the mechanic. “They are not my ground, so I don’t usually care. I have enough of my own troubles here.”

“That’s the thing, they are united now,” the goat diverted his attention from the search to point at Trixie with his cloven hoof. “The Heavy and Light Industry sectors.”

“What?” Trixie grimaced, obviously not believing him. “They hate each other’s guts.”

“They do, but there is a pony who managed to unite them, for the first time in history.” I could hear clear concern in the goat’s voice. “That’s why the TCE has turned a blind eye to the Junkyard, methinks. It smells like a riot is cooking there.”

“It sounds to me like a huge mess is brewing for the entire city,” Trixie hissed, sounding just as concerned. “The last thing Canterlot needs is crippled production lines.”

“Speaking of the mess,” came the voice from the container a moment before the last horseshoe flew out of it. “Even the Shitters are restless, the Gardens cut their share of crops a few weeks ago. Seems like we are gonna have another hungry winter.”

Gathering all four horseshoes from the floor, the goat came to me holding a screwdriver in his mouth.

For a while he worked in relative silence disturbed only by the sounds of screws and metal hooves falling on the floor. Only after the last of them landed on the metal surface below me, did he speak again.

“Only Nebula is as quiet as a mouse, but even there something ain’t right,” the goat said scrunching his nose.

“Let me guess – the zebras?” Trixie replied, rising her brow.

The goat finished putting the new, heavy and bulky horseshoes onto my limbs. He made a few checks and took a step back, giving me a contented look. Grabbing my old purple ones, he headed to the box with the spare parts, but half-way stopped, turning to Trixie.

“Caravans are leaving day and night,” came the confirmation. “And the Stripes are also emptying the black market.”

I didn’t know the implications of all that had just been said, but despite the semi-joking way Trixie and the mechanic spoke, deep frowns marked their faces. Something was going on in Canterlot, and it seemed nopony was about to enjoy where it was leading.

“It’s going to be an interesting winter,” Trixie said slowly and carefully, her expression full of worry. The goat bit his lip and nodded sorrowfully. And I couldn’t shake off the feeling that I would somehow end up involved in all this.

Author's Notes:
Alrighty, I have something to talk about this time, so prepare for these notes being quite long.
First of all - a new chapter (duh), but wait, there is more! Check out the Side Stories - there is a new addition as well. This week I was struck with inspiration and came up with that short depiction of the Edge. However, it is not the longer story I'm still working on (without much of a progress so far, though).
The second - things are progressing on all other fronts (okay, not all - I haven't touched the second clopfic since December). But regarding Aftersound things are in motion. The editing of chapter 11 has almost came to the end. I'm close to finishing chapter 12, it will happen within a week or luckily less.
And the third and the most important topic. I'd like to ask you for some feedback. I know, it was more than year since I've started this story, so requesting your opinion on it is a bit late. And considering the fact that the rest of the story is planned out with finality in those decisions, nothing can me changed plot-wise, but the way the story is told may be influenced, depending on what you are about to say.
So, here is a little survey, and I'll be infinitely grateful if you answer even a few of those questions:
Why did you decide to read Aftersound? What did you expect from it? Did it meet your expectations? What do you like of it the most and think there should be more of that? What you dislike the most and think there should be less of that? What chapters did you enjoy the most and the least? Is it very noticable that the story is written by someone for whom English is not native language? What would you have added or removed completely?
Don't be shy and don't be afraid to be harsh, I don't seek the praise, I want to gauge my skill though your critique and use that knowledge to improve as an author. It may not reflect on some aspects of this story, but it surely be used in future if you stick with me.
Aftersound Project Discord server - it's a little community dedicated to discussion of the story and whatnot. Everyone is welcome to join.
If you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know.
I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.
Stay awesome.

Chapter 11 – Back to where it all began

Aftersound

=================================

Written by:

Flutterfinar & Geka

Preread and edited by:

Cover art done by:

=================================

Back to where it all began

====================

We left the Well behind, and after half an hour into the Tunnels, Trixie stopped and produced the map she brought earlier from under her cloak. Curious, I glanced over her shoulder, and what I saw made me raise my brow in a mix of confusion and doubt. An old sheet of parchment covered in something I could only call a scribble made by a foal with their hind hoof. If it was a map, it was beyond me to read it. Thus, I had not a single idea where we were actually heading.

“We are going to the Junkyard now, right?” I asked, hoping that Trixie hadn’t decided to make a change in our plans and forget to inform me. I didn’t really mind meeting Raven Inkwell, on the contrary, but at this moment, especially after I had learned how much time had passed, I wanted to find Flower and Delight more than ever.

“Yes,” replied Trixie with her eyes glued to the so called map, “but we will go through the old mining sector.” Those abandoned mines in the Rambling Rock Ridge I saw to the south of the Junkyard?

“Can’t we go to the Junkyard directly?” It seemed we were about to make a considerable detour.

“We can.” Trixie finished studying the map, rolled it and began to trot to the nearest turn in the corridor as she talked. “But for that we will have to go to a specific place on the surface and go through the city. I’d like to avoid doing that.” She looked pointedly over herself and then gave me the same look. “I think you will understand.”

Fair enough. I was an equinoid with a custom body and probably on a wanted list for demolishing the Royal Archives. Trixie was a Former One and… well, I didn’t know what she was to the twisted law of Canterlot, but something was telling me she wasn’t very welcome on the surface, since she didn’t seem to be even in the Tunnels.

“I’m okay with that.” I wasn’t really, but we didn’t have any choice. “I just want to get there as soon as possible.”

“It will take us the same amount of time, if not less.” That was a bit surprising to hear at first, but on second thought I realized that we would have a clear path ahead of us since that sector seemed to be completely deserted.

“And what about your friend?” Was Trixie going to ignore her request or somehow fit it into our schedule? I wouldn’t mind if she would leave me with Del and the girls while she went back to the city to meet her – I actually wasn’t very keen on meeting Princess Luna either.

“You mean Koraki?” I nodded. “We’re more colleagues than friends, and she is old again at the moment, so it may all be her imagination.” She shrugged.

“What do you mean ‘old again’?” The metal plates of my face scrunched in confusion with a faint scraping sound – I would have to ask Flower to oil them. I suspected it had everything to do with her being a Former One, but other than through use of magic I had no ideas how ponies could become nearly immortal.

“She is a half-pony, half-phoenix.” My eyes went wide from bewilderment, but Trixie expected that. “Don’t ask, I have no idea how she ended up like that, and she has never told me.” Now I was more interested to meet her. “Anyway, she grows old like a normal pony and then bursts into flames becoming young again. But before it happens there is a decade long period of time when she screws with everypony’s heads.” Trixie grimaced and grumbled, “It could be an urgent tea party for all I know.”

Though it left open the question of Trixie potentially meeting her, I didn’t press on.

As we were making our way through the underground, I noticed that Trixie wasn’t so sure about the “normal” Tunnels. She would often stop and consult the map and sometimes we had to backtrack; each time she smiled sheepishly in a silent excuse. I didn’t hold any grudge for that, I could understand her troubles from my own experience and also the fact that she was used to the Deep Tunnels, which required a completely different approach.

Another thing I noted was the appearance of the Tunnels. There wasn’t much of a change – they simply looked abandoned and not visited in a while. We almost ceased to meet any other dwellers; the amount of litter lessened and it all was old garbage; and while rust didn’t go away, it was now competing with dust in “decorating” the surrounding. Oh, and the “smell of civilization” was replaced by that of damp earth and mold, a small improvement, but very welcome.

However, after about an hour the Tunnels changed completely.

They became very wide and tall passages, meant for heavy machinery and train carts, judging by the grooves on the floor made for rails. Though, none of that could be found in them – everything that supposedly was of any value had been stripped clean. Only a few loose wires hanging from the walls or forgotten rusty tools remained in these passages, gathering dust. There was no lighting in these vast vaulted tunnels, so Trixie resorted to using her “unlight” spell, which still unnerved me a little.

We were passing through the service tunnels leading to the mines themselves. Many of the adjacent passes were collapsed, spilling debris in our path, reminding me of the cursed labyrinth lying below. Fortunately, Trixie was much more sure about where we were heading now, so we moved quickly and with certainty.

Eventually we came into a smaller tunnel ending with a large and thick slightly ajar sealing door. To my confusion, instead of using magic Trixie pressed her shoulder to it and began to push against the unrelenting metal. I came to her side to help, and with a whir of our mechanical joints and groan of ancient hinges, it opened wide enough for us to squeeze through. Trixie nodded to me with gratitude and was the first to cross the doorstep, a moment later I followed.

We exited into the beginning of a deep ravine, with the grey sky high above barely visible through the gash in the rock. The steep walls of stone, cut precisely centuries ago but now crumbled and overgrown with moss, loomed over us. Their surface was sleek with moisture, filling the air with the smell of damp stone, and somewhere not far away I could hear water dripping quietly. The cold winds forlornly howled through the cracks of the distant gap, bringing with them the chilly freshness of open air. I glanced at Trixie and saw her staring up at the leaden clouds with a faint smile on her lips of liquid metal. I felt a pang of sympathy towards her – she didn’t visit the surface frequently, I guessed.

She noticed me looking at her, smiled a bit wider and jerked her head, motioning towards the blinding light of the gorge exit. Together we trotted there, walking around the large shards of rock split off the walls. Gravel crunched under our hooves, and sometimes we had to climb the stone debris slowly and carefully so as not to slip on the wet surface. In a few places I could see some metal remains, but they were so rusted that I couldn’t even remotely tell what they once were. Once I saw bones belonging to a griffin, judging by the gleaming beak protruding from the heap of deteriorated clothing. Only the eagle part of the skeleton was in sight; the rest was crushed by the huge boulder.

I raised my head to the crevice in the rock formation high above, but it remained still, with the exception of water from a few streams showering the ground below our hooves. A single pebble chipped off somewhere and bounced against the walls, filling the entire ravine with its staccato. That was when it struck me – this place was silent, not in the mausoleum-like way of the Deep Tunnels, but in a peaceful way of nature. Not far, a creek gurgled hidden amidst the rock, wind whistled gently, a crow cawed forlornly somewhere out of sight. On any other day I would have certainly enjoyed a long walk amongst these cliffs, but right now I was hurrying to get to my friends. I was even keeping pace with Trixie, not on purpose, but because at some point I began to canter, almost breaking into a gallop.

It didn’t take us very long to reach the pillar of sharp daylight which marked the vertical schism where the ravine walls abruptly ended.

We made it into the bottom of an enormous quarry – not as deep as it was vast, it opened before us. Slants were carved into the sloping walls, white like a bleached bone. Despite the thin layer of clouds obscuring the sun, the stone shone almost blindingly, likely because of the weak drizzle of rain making it reflective. The rain and countless tiny streams were all gathering at the bottom of the open pit, resulting in a not so small lake of still and dark murky water. In the middle of it a cloud of dense strange fog rolled, its tendrils poking out and retracting, coiling, as if the mist were a living being.

My reverie was broken by the shuffle of Trixie’s hooves against the sand as she turned and headed to the serpentine slope leading out of the quarry.

Climbing up those ramparts wasn’t as hard as it was annoying. The incline wasn’t steep, but very deteriorated – the potholes and clefts were threatening to catch my hooves every single step. In fact, those slants were almost horizontal, which was resulting in us walking a lot, but barely gaining height. So, while I wasn’t avoiding tripping over my hooves, I had a lot of time to survey my surroundings, which were more interesting than they appeared on the first look.

That large open-pit mine wasn’t as barren as I thought. Just as in the tunnels leading to it, I could see grooves left by rails, and in some places they were still there, however, they weren’t intact. They were twisted and bent, damaged very badly and appearing to consist exclusively of rust. And the ruined remains of narrow railroads weren’t the only things that marked the almost white stone. The deformed carcasses of heavy machinery bled into the moor below, painting the walls with long streaks of rust. The reason they were left behind was the same as in the case of the rails – they were warped and mutilated beyond salvage, partially entombed under the fallen rocks. Speaking of which, in some places the quarry walls gave away to erosion, but in others something much more powerful and decisive had torn huge chunks of stone, leaving deep scars on the cliffs.

“Trixie, what happened here?” I asked, though I had a suspicion that I knew the answer already. Only powerful explosives could leave such marks.

“The TCE began mining this place very long time ago, about a hundred or so years after the Great War,” she spoke, slowing down a bit and turning her head slightly, so I could hear her better. “And it was a huge disaster from the very beginning, mostly because of the neighbourhood. The Junkyard didn’t exist back then, but the Pink Butterflies just started to.” Well, I guessed right. “After a hundred more years, when it became apparent that these mines weren’t very productive and what they yielded wasn’t paying off, they were abandoned, hence the name.” After a pause she added, motioning to the empty bowl of the quarry with her hoof, “The Junkyard salvaged anything worthy of it later.”

The Pink Butterflies… Every time I had heard of them, they were involved in blowing something up, killing innocent ponies. The girls told me they stood against any technology, but what those terrorists were doing was going beyond that, they seem to just be inclined to see the entire world on fire.

“Why are the Pink Butterflies doing this? I feel like they are connected to Fluttershy, but I can’t imagine how.” She was trying to prevent as much damage as possible caused to wildlife by the Great War, though not like that, of course. Trixie mentioned Fluttershy was exiled to the Everfree at some point after the war, but I still couldn’t imagine my friend would have resorted to outright terrorism.

“The only connection they have is in the name.” I tried to catch up with Trixie and walk by her side as she was answering me, but given the fractured state of the ground under our hooves, it proved fruitless, so she remained a voice speaking not far in front of me. “There was a group of ponies who took a voluntary exile and joined her, but they weren’t the terrorists, far from it.” So far she was following my own conclusions. “Then things changed drastically by the end of Fluttershy’s life, when the griffins began to appear.”

Huh? I thought they didn’t want anything to do with Equestria. We weren’t possible to conquer, though not from lack of trying from the griffins’ side, and we didn’t join their conquests aimed at other countries. So the Griffin Empire traditionally had a very low interest in anything ponies were doing.

“And what did they have to do with that?” I did remember a very small contingent of griffins hired during the Great War, but other than that, the Empire remained dormant during the war. If anything, it seemed to be falling apart over a few decades – they lived by war, and having no chances to pursue their conquests due to Princess Celestia’s peacemaking policy, they slowly began to dwindle away.

“I’m not sure how, but a lot of technologies ended up in their hooves… er, talons, shortly after the Great War. Half of the Empire readily implemented them and began to war against the dragons. But the other half, mostly the older griffins, stood against the progress, claiming that it goes against any tradition and honor. A lot of them had left the Griffin Empire and began to join the refugees in the Everfree, because they kind of shared their cause. Fluttershy was keeping them all peaceful for as long as she could, but when she passed away, all hell broke loose.” Trixie finished the long explanation with a deep sigh.

Though she didn’t mention it, it was apparent that their cause wasn’t really fighting against the technologies, but eradicating ponies as the source of that “evil”. I wouldn’t be surprised if they had some sort of a cult formed around that; even though griffins weren’t religious, they were fervent when it came to warring.

“Why did nopony do anything with them over five centuries?” The entire city was suffering from their devastating attacks; they had to be dealt with.

“Because of the griffins, I guess.” I could see Trixie’s face contorted by a scowl – she wasn’t enjoying their existence even though she lived in a territory relatively untouched by their atrocities as far as I could tell. “They know how to fight better than any other nation. And though they claim to refuse any technology, it apparently doesn’t apply to explosives and magic. They also hide in the Everfree, which is a formidable foe on its own. Combined with their guerilla tactics, they are more than a match for even the Royal Guard.”

Unfortunately, that sounded reasonable. If the Pink Butterflies had managed to claim and restore the Castle of the Royal Sisters, then they were indeed invincible. It was an ancient fortress, once upon a time sturdy enough to withstand the fury of the maddened goddess and then the relentless onslaught of the cursed forest for a millennium. The Everfree Forest was as a huge line of defense on its own, that was true too. And I doubted that Equestria would ever be capable to compete with griffins, who in their entire history spent less than a century not in a state of war with anyone.

The fact that Equestrian technologies brought them back to that track not only made me worry, but made me think about other nations again. Right now Canterlot was isolated from the outside world by merit of the toxic wasteland surrounding it and the severe winters, but there had to be a window of time right after the Great War when it still interacted with its neighbors.

The zebras still followed their cryptic traditional ways, I knew that. They never had nor would have need of any technologies. In a sense their knowledge was even more advanced than unicorn magic. But they weren’t a nation which ever bothered me.

What happened to Neighponia? They were ponies after all, reclusive and on bad terms with Equestria, but our kin. Trixie mentioned it being in ruins, and I had seen a lot of neighponese in Canterlot. Had they, too, gotten some of the technologies born from the Great War? Had they failed to harness them? How were the ram and goat septa surviving the winters, high in the mountains? Did the griffins win the war against the dragons? What was Saddle Arabia up to? Seaquestria, the Deer...

Ugh, so many questions.

It was miraculous that being so deep in my thoughts, I hadn’t kissed the pitted stone with my muzzle. I hadn’t even stumbled once. However, I did fail to notice how we made it almost to the top of the quarry.

The edge of the pit was crumbled, either due to the work of explosives or in submission to the hundreds of seasons. It didn’t matter, however, because we had to climb it anyway. Once again, I rejoiced at the fact that my body didn’t know fatigue, otherwise I would have been left completely winded by the steep incline and very uneven pathing. And I also finally understood why Trixie insisted on changing my hooves. I kept slipping on the unsteady rocky debris, and each time I could feel how the shards of stone mercilessly tried to tear through the metal of my limbs. One of them left a deep scratch on my fetlock, almost penetrating the plating.

Finally we made it to the top and paused briefly, assessing the damage and choosing our next steps. We ended up in the middle of an old road overgrown with scarce shrub, winding between two tall barren hills covered in gravel and yellowish-brown dust.

After dusting her cloak off (which didn’t change anything, in my opinion), Trixie began to climb the hill on the right, the taller one, unfurling her sketchy map as she gained height. Though there was no real need to follow her, I still did it, guided by curiosity. A few minutes later I joined Trixie, and while she was absorbed in reading her map, I looked around.

Very far to my left the ominous dark blot of the Everfree Forest marred the horizon like a spilled greenish ink. And from the distant treeline, the ulcerated landscape of the abandoned mines unrolled before my eyes. Quarries, quarries, quarries – there was not a single patch of the granitic ground which was spared from that fate. It was either vast mining sites or dumps of rock refuse standing like sentinels over the wounds in the soil. The pockmarked plateau was slowly rising into the ridge itself – relatively low peaks not far to my right. The cliffs weren’t absolved from the ponydom’s hunger for ore – black and empty maws of mine entrances dehisced, demanding to feed them workforce and machinery.

At a long range to the east, the mangled scenery ended with the silver stripe of a small river and the weak green of fields, where the stone concealing treasured minerals gave way to the pastoral landscapes of Equestria. Though, it didn’t look the same – discolored and withering. Dismayed, I turned back.

Behind me, in the distance a patchy grey wall loomed over the the ravaged terrain, bearing the marks of countless attempts to breach it with the help of blasting charges. Since we were much closer to the mounts of the Rambling Rock Ridge than to the Everfree, thus rather holding a high ground, I could see over it.

The paysage of Canterlot was nothing but a grim image.

Starting right after the wall, like gangrene, the dirty suburbs lay, compromised of decomposing low buildings, dark and speckled with rust, like blood, visible even from this far. The only sign of that area being alive was the glow of neon, cold and indifferent to the atrocities happening under the circuits of countless artificial suns.

Then there were the Thunderspires, the gleaming towers embraced by pitch black clouds, roiling and spasming with the ceaseless discharges of lightning flashing in their bosoms. The pegasus’ devices which made the firmaments bleed electric life into the city were also marking the border between where the city tried to live and where it had given up on life. The city blocks, still somber and decrepit, sprawled dully glistening towers that were no match for the brilliant skyscrapers of the Inner City.

The bright shine of the Inner City seemed to be jeering at the miserable life of the rest of Canterlot. It was so perfect, so clean – a true city of the future. And yet, neighbored by the rotting suburbs, it seems like a testament of corruption, not of progress. It was clear evidence of unequal distribution of life quality. And at the heart of it was not the most gleaming, but still the tallest and the proudest of them all – the grey citadel of injustice, the Sky Palace.

Did the Crown sit so high that they could see the struggle beneath no more, only the lifeless clouds, obscuring Canterlot from their view? Or did they know all the time, but never cared about any suffering as long as they were perched in the sky?

“I still can’t believe the government can be so corrupted…” Those words left my mouth without me thinking.

At first I thought Trixie didn’t hear my bitter muttering, but then I heard a mirthless chuckle behind me, followed by the rustle of paper and approaching hoofsteps.

“How much time have you spent in Canterlot?” she asked, taking the place by my side, surveying the city with a dispassionate expression. The blinking pale orange lights of beacons atop the wall reflected on the glassy surface of her eyes and waves of living metal.

“Less than two weeks,” I replied with a frown. "Why?”

“Because you sound like a typical citizen.” Trixie looked at me with a smirk, without turning her head. Then she returned to observing the decaying scenery and I realized she was staring at the Sky Palace. “Rarely does anypony in Canterlot have to be asked twice to give the Crown some flak.”

My frown deepened.

“And you almost sound like you are trying to say they aren’t the bad ones,” I retorted, my tone a bit more accusing than I intended. But I couldn’t help it – Trixie might have gotten used to it over five centuries, but I refused to accept Canterlot as it was.

“There are no ‘bad’ or ‘good’ ones in Canterlot these days, only something in between. The difference is that some care to keep their position on that scale and others do not.” I could hear slight annoyance in Trixie’s tone as she explained the situation to me, though I had a feeling that it wasn’t caused by my accusation, but rather by my views on how things should be. “And when it comes to the Crown they are not inherently ‘bad’, though they are definitely not good at governing at times.”

Trixie and I were very different ponies – it was true five hundred years ago, and it was still applicable now. And while I could argue with her about morals and what was good and bad, I knew it would be an exercise in futility, as it always would be. If anything, I should have listened to her – she lived far longer than me and had more experience. Though, it was the knowledge of a survivor. Such concepts as virtue weren’t lost for her, but under the city, especially that deep, it couldn't be the first priority when making decisions.

“Who are they, actually?” I decided to change the topic a bit with a question I had already asked once, ironically not so far away from where I was now, thought it felt like that happened months ago. “Rarity’s descendants?” A shocking guess came to my mind. “Has Rarity become a Former One? Or any other nobles?”

“Nah, they are normal ponies, just not the smartest ones, judging by their decisions.” Trixie waved her hoof in the air in dismissal of my idea. “They make video transmissions of themselves every so often, though nopony has ever met them in person – the Sky Palace is a little city in itself, completely isolated, self-sufficient and impenetrable.” I once again caught her looking at the distant tower with narrow eyes, as if measuring it. “Trust me, I tried to get inside many times, and I wasn’t the only one.”

I joined Trixie in studying the distant fortress. I realized that in a sense it didn’t really fit its surroundings, but rather forced itself to blend in by its sheer size and menacing appearance. I had also kind of expected the Sky Palace to be the most luxurious building in the entire city, but instead I was looking at what seemed to be gargantuan plates of smooth and flat dark grey stone aligned with each other in a rather timid display of abstract architecture. Still, the Palace was impressive, as it was enormous – though it wasn’t as wide as Mount Diamond Point, the foundation of the tower had to be at least half of the mountain’s diameter. The entire population of Ponyville could easily be accommodated inside it with a lot of space to spare. The imposing width gradually diminished until the steeple reached the clouds, so I didn’t know how it looked beyond the leady curtain, but something was telling me that was where the throne room had to be located.

“So they just sit there, in their ‘ivory tower’, enjoying themselves and watching the city die?” Trixie might think of them however she wanted, but that was a fact nopony could deny and there was no relativity in the morality of that action, or rather inaction.

“Let me guess.” She let out a deep sigh and glanced at me with irritation, ”it was that filly from the Edge who told you that?”

And so what? I had seen with my very eyes the truth behind those words, a few days in Canterlot was more than enough. Even without Tin Flower’s words, the Crown’s guilt in the state of the city was undeniable.

“I also spoke with a Moth,” I said instead of answering her question. “A pony wouldn’t bite a feeding hoof it wasn’t that bad.” Though Delight didn’t vehemently oppose the Crown, I could tell she didn’t approve of the way things were.

Trixie sat on the ground with a soft clack of metal against stone. I followed suit. It looked like we were about to be here for while.

“Well, as I said, you will have a hard time finding a pony in this city who thinks anything good of the Crown,” huffed Trixie, exasperation now clearly noticeable in her voice. “Which appears strange to me,” she continued, “considering they are the only thing standing between Canterlot and its fall.”

I desperately tried to understand Trixie’s reasoning – she was adamant on the Crown being an organization with a positive influence on Canterlot. But that wasn’t what irked me the most – her reluctance to tell me any proof of the Crown’s well-meaning role was. I had to force her then, going by contradiction.

“Well, maybe you should stay at the Junkyard for a while and see for yourself how good they are at keeping this city alive,” I stated icily, my rage barely bridled as I remembered hugging two emaciated, shivering fillies as the wind wailed dirges at the border between the dead soil seeping death and the rusty cemetery for ponies and machines.

“The Edge is controlled by the TCE, Twilight!” Trixie barked at me, her eyes flaring with anger. For a single moment I felt fear overcoming my senses, as she towered over me with her face contorted in fury and a sinister halo of quivering shadows embracing her sullen silhouette. Apparently she saw that in my eyes and took a moment to calm herself. Clearing her throat, Trixie continued in a more collected tone, “The Crown fights them so they won’t drive the poor ponies to the grave.” My eyes shot wide in surprise – I never thought about such a possibility. After all, the TCE and the Crown were rivals at the very least, and they both were involved in life at the Edge. It would be logical if both sides had been pursuing somewhat different interests. “Didn’t expect that, did you?” Trixie commented at the change in my expression, adopting the same cold tone I had used moments before. She narrowed her eyes and hissed, “Because that’s what the TCE wants everypony to think.”

“Okay.” Now she started to make a real point. “Maybe you are right. But what about the city? The Royal Guard doing whatever they want? The brothels?” I tried to remember other crimes of the Crown, but so far those were the first that came to my mind.

“The brothels do the city more good than harm – don’t scowl at me.” I would have surely argued if she didn’t silence me in time – I didn’t approve of that despicable enterprise no matter what. “The Crown also keeps the healthcare system running smoothly, though nopony ever remembers that for some reason.” Initially, it surprised me as much as the fact that the Crown was in fact saving the Edge dwellers, but then understanding dawned at me. If one wanted to have a smoothly running network of brothers, one had to ensure that their clientele was healthy. “But most importantly…” She paused and narrowed her eyes as she looked at me. “What do you know about the purists?”

“I know enough to not like them.” Just a new name for tribalists – in essence, nothing else changed. It seemed as long as there were differences between ponies, there would be a supremacy movement. If there weren’t tribes based on morphology, there would be discrimination by color or something else.

“The Crown keeps the city in a rickety equilibrium of powers, you should know.” Trixie swept her hoof over the view of the city, though I realized that she was pointing at the Thunderspires, at some distant place beyond the Everfree and at point to the north from the Palace. The pegasi, the earth ponies and the unicorns, respectively, I guessed. “Besides the purists there are also many other groups powerful enough to take over Canterlot if they are given freedom, and that would be the end of it. Everypony in the city who has their interests impeded by the Crown either pays it back in kind, creating as much trouble as possible, or makes sure nopony supports the government.” She concluded, stomping her hoof against the hard ground. “They keep everypony at bay and most importantly, the TCE.”

“So, that company is the true villain?” After all, Trixie didn’t try to protect them, and while there might have been hidden truths about the Crown which either made them different from what they appeared or outweighed their misdoings, some things the TCE did couldn’t be redeemed by any good acts.

“Are you even listening to me?” she groaned, rolling her eyes. “There are no heroes or villains anymore. Like it or not, the TCE feeds the entire city and produces more than half of the goods.” I frowned and she waved her hoof in the general direction of the city. “Sure, if there wasn’t the Crown, they would have enslaved the entirety of Canterlot. But without them it would have been wiped out by famine a long time ago.”

I stared at the dreadful landscape stretching in every direction, twinkling with colorful lights here and there, like the embers of a dying bonfire. I hated to admit it, but Trixie was most probably right. I desperately wanted it to be simple: there were the “bad” and “good” ones, the latter fighting the former to make things right. As appealing as that concept was, it also was so rare to exist in its pure form. Even Nightmare Moon had a somewhat fair point.

I should have expected Canterlot to be a convoluted political mess, with some ponies fighting for survival and others for control over those who were too busy surviving to do anything else. That’s what it was now – but once, it all was so different. The Equestria I left had some analogs for that nightmare, but something made them bloom into reality, to make any morality be overgrown and lost.

“Then tell me why.”

“What do you mean?” Trixie frowned in confusion.

“Why is Canterlot is like this?” I motioned with my hoof, pointing at the scarred wall, at the desolate suburbs, at the Everfree Forest harbouring the murderous renegades. “How did it come to this?”

Trixie’s expression sombered and she sat silent for a minute, staring at the ground with hard eyes. Then she scowled, sighed deeply and spoke, staring at the horizon.

“You know, I was there when the Great War was won,” she said in a quiet voice, and I instantly felt a pang of regret for bringing up that horrible time again. “I watched with my very eyes how Shining Armor severed King Sombra’s head with his sword.” She paused in thought and glanced at me. “‘Valor’, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was the sword Celestia gifted to him when he became the captain of the Royal Guard.” As far as I knew, she herself smithed and enchanted that blade. “But what does that have to do with this?” Then I understood that Trixie was actually biding her time, because when she spoke again, she grimaced as if in pain.

“Because I think King Sombra won in the end,” Trixie whispered.

“How can you say something like that?!” I instantly exploded and hopped to my hooves, glaring at her. Of all the ponies! I wasn’t there, and even I knew how harrowing that time was. So many ponies died during the war and countless others perished even after the Warlock was fallen! Princess Cadence died for this!

Trixie didn’t even flinch. She regarded me with a calm gaze and waited to speak again until my breath returned to normal and the expression of righteous indignation left my face.

“Over the years of the Great War, King Sombra used so many things, so many different ways and tactics. But in essence, they had only one goal – to incite fear.” She rose her hoof close to her face as if to inspect it for a lodged stone, but then… I instinctively stumbled back as another smoky and semi-transparent black hoof came through and out of it, continuing to move to her face instead of the metal one. “He knew its power and he wielded it like a weapon.” Trixie glanced at me knowingly and I remembered how some of the ponies at the Well looked at her – with terrified eyes. “And when the soldiers left the bloodied battlefields for the last time to return home, they carried it there in their very hearts.”

“He has taught Equestria to truly fear, to dread tomorrow.” Her hooves returned to ‘normal’ and she turned to look at the city, with eyes full of old sorrow. I realized that if before she was looking at it assessing, hollowly observing it as just another place, now she saw it as it was – a crucible of suffering, melting every life thrown in it into nightmare alloy. “I think this is why Canterlot became like this – the ponies are scared, and that terror passed over generations and still permeates their every breath, of each and every one.”

There wasn’t much to be said after those words, neither for me nor for Trixie, though I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Was it true? Had King Sombra really managed to plunge the entire Equestrian nation into a state of permanent dread? It could have explained so much, and yet I felt like there was something more to it. Surely, fear was the fuel for the pony-equinoid conflict, and the Pink Butterflies were basically doing the Ebony Warlock’s job, but no matter how deep and strong the terror was, it alone couldn’t cripple the society so hard. Those and similar ruminations were making fruitless circles in my mind as we left the hill and headed towards the peaks of the ridge, or rather to the breach in them.

The Rambling Rock Ridge was a perfect example of a tectonic shift – from the direction we were coming, the south, it was a steadily rising surface of shattered granite, which ended with extremely steep cliffs facing north. Those ledges of solid rock went for kilometers, protruding into the sky like teeth, even and sharp. It would have been a great trouble scaling it and an even greater climb down the other side. Thankfully, a wide pass was cut right through the rock mass, as if a huge hoof punched out a section of a mountain. I didn’t remember it being there before. It was probably made specifically for the excavation efforts, and I couldn’t not be impressed by it.

Countless old and neglected roads led to that artificial gorge, like dried rivulets converging into one single river. We were following one such dusty path, circling around the hills of broken stone and tearing through the meager thickets of dessicated bushes. Grit whispered soundly under our hooves as we moved rapidly and purposely and there was a reason for that. The sun was not so far from finishing its journey through the sky – we still had a few hours before sunset, but as Trixie fairly noted, navigating either cliffs or the Junkyard maze in darkness was a risky endeavor even taking into account our magic. So, if we wanted to find my friends without wasting an entire night before, we had to hurry.

Thankfully, our path was even and undisturbed by debris or any other kinds of obstructions, so we spent not much more than an hour and half before we made it to the rocky walls of the ravine.

The two pointed peaks loomed over us, as if scrutinizing the ponies who dared to disturb the ominous echoing silence of the mountain passage. Though, occasionally, the still air would be disturbed by the sudden and otherworldly furious wail of the wind. It really scared me the first time it happened, so much so that I jumped into the air. With a chuckle Trixie commented that back when the mines were still open ponies called that place Lil’ Ghastly Gorge because of that. That periodic howl, combined with the rough dark basalt walls and the almost entirely obscured sky was creating a very creepy atmosphere for that place. I could acutely sense the sheer mass of stone hanging over us, as if we were being judged every moment of being worthy to be let through.

Eventually, the cliffs ceded to the already darkening clouds and we finally broke free from the unwelcoming embrace of the mountain. However, it was a bittersweet change in scenery, because the rusty bones of the Junkyard were readily greeting Trixie and me as soon as we left the crags. An endless forest of discarded metal sprawled before us, weeping dried blood to the ground as if the drizzling rain couldn’t decide if it wanted to be mist or to actually dew the twisted remains.

A few moments passed before I realized what was out of place – we weren’t moving. we had stopped and Trixie was patiently looking at me. And that was when another realization, a much less pleasant one, dawned on me – she was waiting for me to guide her to Tin Flower. The problem was, I did not have a single idea where to look for her – it was something I didn’t bother to think of before. Her shack was… near a hill? Somewhat closer to the abandoned mines than to Nebula’s sector, right? And it was about two or three hours away from the Toxic Dump. Considering that her dwelling effectively blended with the rest of the sector, looking for it relying on these vague directions would be a fool's errand.

I deliberately avoided looking at Trixie, because I knew – the moment our eyes met she would know. But unfortunately, she didn’t even need that to guess my mistake.

“Twilight,” she said, my name followed by a deep sigh, “please, tell me you know where to look for that filly.”

I slowly turned to Trixie and sheepishly smiled. She groaned and tugged with her hoof at her mask-face. It followed the limb like it was made of rubber, revealing the metal net of the carcass beneath. Then she released the metal from her hold and it splashed back at her skull, sending drops of metal in every direction, though they fell back at the wobbling surface midflight.

“I can narrow down the area where we should look for her – we don’t need to search the entire sector.” I tried to fix the situation as best as I could. I mean, a quarter of the sector was better than the entire sector, right? A sudden idea visited my mind, though I didn’t really like it. “Maybe you can use your magic?”

“Not unless you have a vial of her blood,” Trixie replied drily, and I winced. Really, what else should I have expected? Overwise, there were no spells for dumbness.

Awkward silence hung between us. Her gaze slid over the dreary landscape until her displeased eyes stopped at me. She stared at me for a while with her lips pursed in an expression of utter dissatisfaction until something sparkled in her eyes.

“We can go on a blind search or we can find Scuff Gear.” I perked at that excellent idea. “But only if you know where he is,” she added grouchily, but I was already thinking hard trying to remember my misadventures in this sector.

“He is… not far from the smelter..?” I mumbled uncertainly, glancing at Trixie for some kind of help, but she only rolled her eyes.

“Which one?” She pointed across the Junkyard at the towering plumes of smoke coming from distant faint spots of glow.

Of course I didn’t remember… Wait…

“No-no-no. He isn’t at the smelters,” I exclaimed, as I finally remembered, “his workshop is at some kind of an old military camp!”

“A military... camp?” echoed Trixie, rising her brow questioningly and scrunching her face in confusion. “Ah! You probably mean the old labor camp,” she said after a few moments. She began to mutter, tapping her chin with her hoof.

“I don’t have the Junkyard map, but I think I can dig out of my memory its location. Luckily, that camp is the only one left.” She paused, and her forehead became creased in a deep frown. “However, it makes my idea not that good,” she added with a grimace.

“Why?” I tilted my head, curious.

“The sector is in a state of war with itself from all we know, and that camp is a coveted prize for anypony fighting for control of the Junkyard.” Fair point. It had an infirmary and a prosthetic workshop; both facilities were priceless for the local population. It had to be the most strategically valuable place in the entire sector. “We are more likely to find tough stuff than Scuff there,” Trixie concluded with a rhyme, though I could see no mirth in her expression.

“What do you suggest then?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged after a minute of indecision. “We still have a few hours before dark and we can try to look for your friend by ourselves. If we don’t find her, we will wait out the night and I will sneak into Scuffy’s workshop in the morning.”

“Sounds like a solid plan.” I had nothing to add, since it wasn’t like we had many options. And Trixie’s suggestion was the most reasonable from all the limited potential combinations.

“Then lead on.” She motioned to the corroded labyrinth with her hoof, inviting me to take the place in front. “I haven’t been to this place for at least a hundred years.”

The Junkyard was just as bad as I remembered it.

Mounds upon mounds of rotting metal scrap with narrow patches of hardened ground covered in thick layer of brown-red flakes in between. Those mounts of refuse bristled with sharp claws of protruding remains, clawing at us as we passed them. I had lost count of how many times Trixie had to untangle her cloak from their grabbing, cursing like blazes every time. However, she stubbornly refused to take it off, despite my insistence.

And as we wriggled through the decaying maze of the Junkyard, I kept glancing at the sky, which grew darker and darker. We barely had more than an hour before sunset at this point. But Flower’s shack was nowhere to be seen.

I had to admit that we were wandering aimlessly, and I only hoped we weren’t going in circles. A few times I thought I saw something familiar, like a hull perforated by countless rains. But there wasn’t the neatly cut girder of old metal inside of it. Twice we stumbled upon high hills, though none of them had any shacks nearby and the view they afforded was providing no assistance in navigating the enormous graveyard of machinery.

Following Trixie’s advice we avoided coming close to the welcoming glow of the smelters. But even relatively far from them I was able to hear the resounding thunderclaps and tell-tale flashes of gunshots more than once. At least we were fortunate enough not to meet anypony at all, and especially a certain pegasus.

I was circling yet another pile of discarded metal plates, girders and pipes, so ancient they melted into each other, trying to find out if I had led us to a dead end or if there was some way to get past it. Dismayed, I turned back and found myself muzzle to muzzle with Trixie. I looked at her questioningly, and she gazed back at me sympathetically, slowly shaking her head – we had run out of daylight.

I let out a deep sigh. The prospect of spending the entire night in this cursed poky hole of a place was just as unappealing as I was dejected from failing to find Tin Flower. I opened my mouth to ask what we were going to do now, when Trixie suddenly swirled in place, almost slapping me with her darned cloak. I followed her gaze and before I even saw the object of her interest, I heard it, or rather, them.

Not high above us, across the sky ominous silhouettes rocketed, dark and yet glistening, tearing the air with the argute and furious roar of powerful turbines, making smaller pieces of scrap rattle as if from fear.

My proverbial heart fell in my chest. I didn’t need to ask Trixie to know that I had just witnessed the squadron of the Royal Guard. And I could tell that their appearance was not a coincidence – they were headed to the same place we were searching for, I knew it.

I exchanged one single glance with Trixie, her eyes wide and fearful, mirroring my expression. She gave me a quick nod and darted off. I wasted not a moment and leapt after her.

She galloped a few paces in front of me, using the shadowy strikes of her magic to cut and toss away any obstacles in our way. But still a lot of garbage remained in our almost straight path and I prayed for my hooves not to catch on any of it, otherwise, at this speed, the consequences might have been catastrophic.

Again, I heard the Royal Guard before I saw them м a hoarse commanding bellowing voice booming through the damp air followed by the shrill panicked yelps almost making me stumble – Tin Flower’s and Delight’s desperate barks.

Suddenly, Trixie tore into a clearing and I barely managed to avoid crashing into her. The moment I regained my senses, I froze in my tracks.

A dozen of heavily armored and armed figures turned to us, all but one – likely the commander of the party, the pony in the different, more lithe metal suit, which, however, looked much more dangerous, thanks to the two large cannons mounted on their shoulders. And these guns were pointed straight at Tin Flower, who stood defiantly before the towering figure. Clandestine Delight shivered, cowering beside her with a just as frightened Red Wire hiding under her dirty wing.

“Where is that equinoid!?” roared the Royal Guard, taking a step forward, pressing the wide barrels into Flower’s chest, but the filly stood her ground.

The sight wasn’t what made me teeter.

At that very moment the Guard sharply turned her head at me and staggered as if struck.

Our eyes met.

The glowing neon purple of a machine and the brilliant dark rose of a pony.

The commander recovered, took an uncertain shaky step forward.

“T-t-twilight?” rasped Rainbow Dash in a suddenly weak and stuttering voice.

How could it be? I stared at Rainbow, dazed, unable to tear my gaze from her eyes, just as brilliant and bright as I remembered them. Through the translucent glowing visor revealing half of her face I saw that she was just as young as she was last time we met on that fateful flying strip. Not even a single wrinkle, though the circles under her eyes were worse than she ever had.

In strange unison we were taking slow and uncertain steps towards each other, as if we were wading through water. In the corner of my eye I saw Trixie, just as bewildered, walking by my side and giving me worried glances. Flower stood where she was, utterly confused, while Delight and Wire were trying to discreetly move away from the scene. The scarlet maned filly was whispering something angrily to her friend and tugging her with the golden glow of her magic, but to no avail. On the other side, to my left, the rest of the Royal Guards were enclosing on Trixie and me, though they moved tentatively, throwing questioning looks at their commander, asking for instructions in muffled, unintelligible voices.

Suddenly, with a resounding twang of assaulted metal and quiet pop one of the armorclad figures slumped to the ground in a heap of lifeless limbs as though mown down.

There was a single moment of shocked silence, frighteningly long enough for me to realize that the guardspony was shot down by a rifle I had already seen in deadly and silent action. And in the exact moment I came to that horrible conclusion, the world to my left exploded.

Gunshots pealed through the air accompanied by the blinding flashes of firing weapons, lighting up the furious muzzles of ponies who otherwise would have been unseen amongst the scrap. Upon a hill a pegasus stood, wind tearing at her hood as she grinned maniacally, barking the order to kill “the Crown’s dogs” over and over, each time choosing different, but still murderous words.

However, it seemed that only Pepper Mercury's gun was powerful enough to penetrate the fabled armors… the descendants of the design created by Moondancer and I. The leaden shells ricocheted from the arcanium plates harmlessly, the guardsponies didn’t even flinch. And in fact, they were already moving. Even before their comrade hit the ground fully, they began to react. Dash gave me a last worried glance, and her face became obscured by metal plates which swiftly slid over her visor. Then she instantly began to bark orders, and the guns on her shoulder came to life with an eerie glow as she took cover, following her own instructions and the example of the squad.

I still stood dumbstruck, but it lasted only a few seconds – a stray, or maybe not, bullet impacted with my shoulder with force strong enough to make me stumble, but luckily not to pierce my plating.

Panicked, I swirled my head around, looking for cover, but then I realized that it shouldn’t have been my priority right now. I frantically glanced around again, looking for my friends this time – unlike me or Trixie, or even the Royal Guard, they couldn’t afford to take a bullet. After a few agonizingly long moments I finally saw them – Flower, Wire and Delight took cover behind the overturned rusty plate of some machine’s hull. Almost tripping over my hooves, I madly dashed to them, catching a few more shots with my plating on the way.

I all but fell on them, guided by my inertia and fear and was immediately wrapped into a hug by Tin Flower, which I returned without hesitation, but it didn’t last for long.

“Girls, are you alright!?” I exclaimed and immediately began to inspect them for injuries, not waiting for their answer. Both fillies looked unharmed, though pale from fear, but Delight was nursing her wing, wincing and grimacing. I moved as close to her as the cramped space of our cover could allow to take a closer look at her injury, but she pushed me away.

“I was just grazed by a stray bullet,” she muttered over the din of gunfire pelting the plate covering us. She finally revealed her wing, once pristine, but now speckled with pink in addition to the brownish black grime of the Junkyard. “I’ll be fine, it’s nothing.” I gave her a long hard stare which she endured unwaveringly and decided not to bother her anymore, at least not until the shooting ended.

We half-sat, half-stood for a few moments, ducking as low as we could, exchanging glances of worry, relief and confusion, and none of us spoke as we anxiously listened to the unceasing shooting. If anything, the clamor became even louder as it was joined by the strange high-pitched sounds accompanied by the whine of magic crystals overheating and flashes of colorful light, but neither me, nor the girls dared to check out what was going on.

Red Wire was the first to break the strained silence between us.

“Twilight,” she began in her trademark grouchy tone, “when did you become friends with the Royal Guard?” she venomously commented on my interaction with Rainbow, betraying her disapproval.

In truth, I really hoped that I actually was friends with the entire Royal Guard, not with just Rainbow Dash, which was also a question by itself. After all, before I arrived, things didn’t seem to be going very well for anypony involved.

“I know their commander, she is a friend from my time – Rainbow Dash.” Again, I hoped that I was telling the truth and that it was indeed her, though there weren’t many other options. It still was unbelievable. I could understand how Trixie survived, but there was a difference between “living longer than one normally does” and “returning from being obviously dead”. However, on second thought, I wasn’t really one to talk, since I fell under both categories.

“I thought you said she was dead,” Flower said from my side. It was the first time she had spoken a word since we rejoined, though she compensated for her prior lack of words by clinging to my side, which was speaking volumes by itself.

“I thought so too.” I had to close my eyes for a moment and focus on keeping away memories of the nightmare in the Tunnels. Everything was pointing at that, and Trixie confirmed her death, and yet Rainbow was here in flesh, defying everything I knew.

“And that equinoid who came with you?” Flower spoke again, motioning with her head in the general direction of the battlefield, since Trixie was nowhere to be seen around us. I imagined that for Flower, who was tech-savvy, her appearance had to be intriguing.

“She is Trixie Lulamoon, a Former One.” After a moment, I added with a smile, knowing that it would bear much more impact, “The Magician.”

As if on cue I felt an eerie disturbance in magic around – a very powerful spell was cast nearby. An unpleasant sound, like a huge sheet of fabric was violently and yet slowly torn apart filled the air and soon it was followed by blood curdling loud screams which completely replaced the thunder of gunshots. The girls whipped their heads around and, after seeing nothing unusual, were overwhelmed by curiosity and peeked from the sides of our cover. With a sigh I joined their unsafe endeavour.

An obsidian tendril of thick boiling vapor lashed at the metal scrap and ponies, launching both soaring through the air as if they were nothing but loose feathers. Any flesh it touched rapidly withered, soon leaving dessicated husks, falling apart into ashen flakes, carried away by the wailing gusts of unnatural wind. I felt pressure on my back – as I turned I saw Flower who climbed there to get a better view. Fur and cloth brushed against my front hooves, I lowered my gaze and met Wire’s slightly mismatched eyes.

“Don’t you have any normal friends?” she grumbled in mild disapproval. However, I could see that the filly was absolutely fascinated by the display of eldritch magic.

Although terrifying, Trixie’s spell proved to be extremely effective – everypony who managed to survive both its onslaught and the retaliation from the Guards fled for their lives. Very strangely, the Guards seemed to be departing from the demolished area as well, much to Rainbow’s dismay. Soon, she was left alone save for the crumpled form of the guardspony who was shot down. She bellowed vile obscenities at her fleeing subordinates, loud enough that I could hear in explicit details the amount of punishment they were about to receive for the disobedience and desertion.

The whip-like cloud of inky roiling mist circled the entire clearing and to my amazement returned into the completely still form of Trixie’s body. She loudly gasped for air and came to life. That sight made me shudder involuntarily – I had seen that skill used before twice, and those weren’t good memories. Frowning, I watched as she walked in a peculiar mechanical manner towards the raging Rainbow, ignoring her, and stood over the fallen Royal Guard, staring at it with a shocked expression. My frown deepened – something was wrong.

I glanced at my friends – Flower climbed off me, and Wire came out from underneath. They were both watching me patiently, along with Delight. Even with the gunfight over, the situation still was uncertain, I realized none of them was eager to approach the remaining Royal Guards – only I had a chance to do any fruitful negotiations. I nodded to them, but it was more to encourage myself than anything, and left the nook behind the battered rusty plate.

As I slowly made my way to the center of the clearing where Trixie, Dash and the unnamed guardspony were, I couldn’t avoid looking at the massacre around us. The little area devoid of metal junk also had no corpses lying around, unlike the metal scrap ahead of it. They either bore large burn marks, still smoking in some cases, or were not as much bodies but heaps of clothing with ashes rising from them. It was far from the bloodshed I witnessed at the food storage, but still a macabre and repulsing sight.

However, I felt a grim satisfaction when I saw the remains of the pegasus on the top of the hill where she defiantly stood not so long ago. Pepper Mercury’s body was black with soot and burns, broken and bleeding, crumpled atop the rusty metal scrap, repainting it with fresh crimson. Her wings, once gleaming and majestic, were now twisted and ragged, stuck out to the sky, outstretched and perforated by the many powerful blasts. The holes in the metal prosthetics were still glowing with dull orange, appearing as small solar eclipses against the darkening sky, and dripping molten steel. She was like a macabre monument to the cruelty of the Edge and her own.

The moment I was a few steps away from my destination, Dash stopped having a tantrum and just stood over her fallen comrade, muttering curses. Trixie was still standing over the armored body, her expression almost unchanged – it only became somewhat more grievous.

I came closer, so I was only a few steps away from them and my eyes fell on the armor. It was so familiar, the design more sleek and less bulky, just as Dash wanted once, but besides the helmet, which wasn’t conical anymore, it hadn’t changed substantially. I still could recognize more than half of the runes on the blackened arcanium plates.

The bullet seemed to have gone straight through the chest without losing much of its power, leaving a ragged hole on exit which now gaped towards the mournful, rapidly darkening sky. Though upon further inspection it appeared that the shoulder plate was damaged not by the bullet, but rather an internal explosion. It was only a guess, but I suspected that it was from the crystals inside detonating to such effect.

And when I saw that, it made me freeze and in the back of my mind I understood what it was that caused Trixie to be in her stupor.

The Royal Guard was obviously shot dead, judging by the mortal wound and almost non existent trickle of life from where the deadly projectile entered the armor.

It dripped from the angled plate and gathered onto the ground.

Into a puddle of yellowish-green ichor.

I stared and stared at it. There should have been so many thoughts inside my head, so many pieces of the puzzle coming together in one perfect picture, the answer to all my questions, to all the struggles of mine and of Equestria. But my mind was numb and as blank as a sheet of fresh parchment. I felt empty.

I didn’t know how much time passed before I realized that Rainbow Dash was intently studying me, her curious gaze almost palpable.

No. Not Rainbow Dash, she was dead as everypony thought, and – I hated to say it – as she should have been.

Beside me stood just another of those monsters. The emptiness inside me started to fill with rage and I ignited my horn, though I knew that I didn’t have and would never have enough magic to leave even a dent on its armor. But I wasn’t going down without a fight, not this time. And more importantly, I had to bide time so the girls could have a chance to escape. The only problem was: how was I going to warn them without drawing the abomination’s attention?

It seemed the imposter was quick to discover my intentions.

“Chill, Twilight,” Not-Rainbow said with a exasperated groan, “I’m not one of them.”

“That is exactly what you would say if you were a changeling,” I hissed back. As cheesy as that line was, it was true – and it bought me time I so desperately needed right now. I still had to figure how to warn Delight so she could fly away. Maybe Trixie could have helped, but she was still paralyzed with shock and sorrow.

“I’m too awesome to be copied by anypony, come on!” the changeling exclaimed as she took a step towards me.

I took a step back and narrowed my eyes. Was the visor of the armor helmet enchanted too? The plates protecting it were gone and a pair of annoyed, very realistically mimicked eyes peered back at me. It was a clear shot and it was worth a try.

“Alright, fine!” Not-Rainbow sat and threw its hooves in the air. “Remember that party when you and me were the only ponies awake and you mistook Rarity’s white ass for Celestia’s?” I stopped dead in my tracks, my eyes growing wide in recollection of that embarrassing memory. “And you were so drunk you tried to seduce her even though she had passed out?”

I did remember it. If the situation was different and if I was capable of it, I would have gone a bit red, even despite my already purple color. That was one wild party, when I miraculously managed to withstand the knock-out power of Pinkie’s cocktails but failed to keep my mind lucid. Only me and Rainbow knew about it, anypony else was either deep asleep or had gone home by that moment. And after she stopped laughing her head off, I made her promise to never ever tell anypony about this.

And if Dash was dead as I thought, that secret was taken to the grave. But if she was not...

Then Rainbow had to be under the same spell Queen Chrysalis once used on my brother.

There was hope.

“Trixie!” I barked at the responseless mare, “She is under hypnosis! Can you do something!?” I cried desperately. “Please, help!”

Right now I was going to agree with using any kind of magic, no matter how vile, as long as it could tear my friend from the clutches of the evil queen’s curse.

Rainbow groaned again and slapped her helmet with her hooves in a display of utter exhaustion from the ridiculousness of the situation.

“She isn’t,” Trixie droned in a lifeless tone. “There is no foul magic involved and she is sure not a changeling.” My head swirled between them – none of it was making any sense. They weren’t supposed to act like this!

Trixie let out a deep sigh. “This is so sad…” she moaned, “and stupid.”

“Hey!” Rainbow barked at her, turning her head to give Trixie a glare. Then she turned back to me. “See?”

It had to be another of those virus-induced nightmares – it was all a surreal absurd joke my mind decided to play on me again.

I took another step back, my horn still lit, ready to fire a stunning spell.

“Then explain yourself!” I yelled at Rainbow, feeling like I was on the verge of losing myself to hysteria. “How did you survive? Why are you serving the Hive?” I barely held sobs threatening to wreck me. “Why did you let this happen to Equestria!?” I screamed at her and fell to the ground, shaking.

From the moment I saw the squad of the Guard tearing through the sky, my reality had become a harsh emotional rollercoaster, and I finally broke down. So much had happened, I had learned so many truths and my mind couldn’t decide what to feel at the moment.

“Whoah!” Dash rushed to me and picked my shivering form off the ground. “Whoah, there…” She continued to mutter, patting me on the back as I clung to her shoulders.

I caught sight of Trixie, who had come out of her reverie and was standing a couple of steps away, dismayed and ready to help, but not sure how or if it was her place to do so right now.

“Well, first of all…” Rainbow said into my ear and pulled me away from the hug, holding me by the shoulders in her outstretched hooves. Humour twinkled in her cerise eyes. “Are you kidding me, Twi?” she said with a hearty chuckle. “You put so many life-preserving enchantments on this suit of armor, you can put bones inside of it and they will come back to life.” I indeed had spared no expense enchanting the armor from head to hoof tips, but I didn’t expect the result to be so potent – Dash had survived the explosion that crippled me, even though I wasn’t even very close to it. “Sure, I fell into a coma and it took a while to patch me up and I’m kinda stuck in it right now,” Rainbow puffed her chest, though it was barely noticeable because of the armor, and finished with a smirk in her trademark display of bravado, “but it will take much more to bring me down even without it.”

However, her demeanor changed quickly – she cast down her eyes and sighed deeply.

“And as for your other questions…” Her hooves let go of my shoulders and she turned to forlornly glance at the distant silhouette of the sky-piercing Palace, almost lost amid the dark sky. “I’m not sure you will understand, but it was the only right choice.”

Anger instantly flared in me. There couldn’t possibly exist any circumstances under which siding with the changelings was the right decision, regardless of the point of view.

“They murdered Princess Celestia!” I spat in fury. “They murdered my brother! Applejack! Moondancer! Everypony!”

“Yeah, I know,” Rainbow Dash said absolutely calmly.

I stared at her in utter disbelief. What happened to her? She hated the changelings as much as I did. It took me and my friends a lot of effort to stop her from joining Princess Luna’s crusade. We couldn’t prevent her joining the war, however.

“That was basically what met me when they brought me back from the coma, a hundred years after the Great War,” Dash answered my question with a pained look. “Listen, from the moment that ‘Rarity’s granddaughter’ started to speak, I knew they were shitting me, I didn’t need to be Applejack for that. They realised pretty fast that I wasn’t dumb enough to buy their lies, so they just showed me the city, Twi.”

She turned to Canterlot again, silently watching the dark scenery, blinking with all possible colors. However, as I stood up and sat beside her, catching her eyes, I realized that she wasn’t seeing what I did, but rather was reliving memories. And judging by her forehead creased in a deep frown they weren’t the pleasant ones.

“Just a century had passed,” she spoke, her tone irritated and voice low from barely contained wrath, “and those idiots had already forgotten how horrible the war was, because it was exactly what was taking place on the streets. Ponies killing ponies left and right, equinoids flaying fillies alive in the daylight, warlocks on the loose, gangs turning entire districts into battlefields. A massacre.”

I looked at her in shock, not as much as from the thing I had just heard, but from the deep pain in her voice. Rainbow stared back at me grimly and intently – she wanted me to listen and to do it carefully.

“So I had a hard choice. I could die, fighting my way through the small army of changelings in the best armor that ever existed. And maybe I would even have a chance of making it into the city, where nopony I once knew was left.” She paused, to let her words sink in. “Or I could bite the bullet and join Queen Chrysalis and help to save what was left of Equestria, because, believe me or not, it was what she was trying to do.”

So she was behind it all, still alive, unchallenged by both passage of time and Princess Luna’s meticulous search, that vile, monstrous witch. Who else could guide those wretched creatures to do something insidious as infiltrate and replace the entire government? And it explained why the Princess of the Night still hunted the Badlands and ever would – the changelings were long gone, sneaked under her nose right into the very heart of Equestria, and she simply chased the shadows, blind from vengeance and turned insane by the loss.

“My loyalty still lies with Equestria – with ponies,” Dash declared firmly, staring me in the eyes with hard and stern resolve. “And I’m going to do anything to help them, even if it means to serve the Hive.”

I pursed my metal lips, feeling them slightly scrape against each other. Regardless of what Trixie said, Equestria did win the war, but failed to notice how it lost another, a slow and insidious disease eating right through its very heart. I understood Rainbow Dash, it was sorrowfully easy for me now to imagine streets red with blood. But the hardest part was to follow her example.

I had to truly accept the fact that ponydom was lost to the Hive and that Queen Chrysalis ruled Equestria right now. But what was going against anything I knew was the understanding that no matter how vile and evil she was, she had to care about the ponies and we were technically on the same side, according to everything Trixie and Dash told me. If I could, I would have gritted my teeth.

No, I couldn’t accept that, not yet. I might, eventually, but not at this very moment.

I raised my eyes from the burned ground to look at Rainbow and met her gaze, sympathetic and understanding.

I was in such a huge mess right now and there was no chance to escape anymore. The Hive, insane Princess Luna, the equinoids and their vacancy for the goddess, the coming end of Canterlot…

But I didn’t have to face it alone.

I leaned to Rainbow Dash, embracing her in my hooves and she readily returned the gesture.

“I’m so glad you’re alive,” I whispered as the metal plates of her armor and my body clanked against each other.

“I’m glad to have you back, too,” she muttered in answer with a sniff.

Author's Notes:
Quite a chapter, eh?
I don't have much to tell, to be honest. Chapter 12 is being edited and close to be done. I'm actively working on chapter 13 and hope to finish it in a week or so. No side stories are in works, however I may return to the one I've been working on earlier this year after chapter 14.
The survey I've posted in the author's note in the end of the last chapter is still in power - I'll be very glad to see your feedback.
Aftersound Project Discord server - it's a little community dedicated to discussion of the story and whatnot. Everyone is welcome to join.
If you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know.
I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.
Stay awesome.

Chapter 12 – Nuit blanche

Aftersound

=================================

Written by:

Flutterfinar & Geka

Preread and edited by:

Cover art done by:

=================================

Nuit blanche

====================

Rainbow Dash and I stood silently for a while, our heads on each other’s shoulders, then I felt her shift a little and leave the embrace of my hooves. To her credit, it lasted much longer than I expected, considering Rainbow’s attitude towards such “sappy” things, as she called them.

“Hey! You there!” she called to somepony behind my back. “Come out!”

I turned to see at whom she was shouting and saw Flower, Wire and Del cautiously poking their heads out from behind the metal plate. In the heat of the moment I had almost forgotten about them, and I could easily understand their curiosity. I imagined they would have been very confused by the scene which had unfolded before their eyes – a lot of different emotions passed between me and Rainbow in the span of mere minutes. However, they weren’t eager to leave the protective bulk of the old metal sheet, which was still standing fast despite being mauled by bullets.

“Sorry, but I didn’t enjoy your guns being pointed on us!” Red Wire yelled back, her tone as caustic as ever. “And as far as I remember the Crown doesn’t leave any witnesses!” she added with clear concern in her voice.

“They were offline.” Rainbow rolled her eyes in exasperation. “And we don’t fire at minors, anyway.”

But Rainbow’s excuses fell on deaf ears, since none of the girls left the shadow of the rusty remains. If anything, they only retracted their heads deeper, especially Delight. I wasn’t sure if it was Rainbow’s unconvincing choice of words or the general distrust towards the Crown. For them she was just another enforcer of their tyrannical rulers’ will after all.

I shook my head in mild amusement – five hundred years hadn’t done Rainbow any service in terms of her negotiating abilities. I had to intervene if I didn’t want to watch her and the girls bicker across the clearing until the next day. Though, it seemed Rainbow was just as aware of her failure in persuading my new friends that she wasn’t a threat.

“I’m sorry, alright?” she yelled, unfortunately sounding more annoyed than apologetic. Rolling my eyes with a smile, I, unseen to her, motioned to the girls with my hoof to come out.

Slowly and ever so cautiously, the three ponies left their little sanctuary. Flower was the first, followed by Delight, and after a few moments Wire joined them as well. They all trotted almost on half-bent knees, constantly glancing warily at the dark skies as if expecting the Royal Guard to descend on them at any moment.

Finally, they approached us, keeping mostly to me and trying to keep as much distance as possible between them and Rainbow.

Tin Flower was bearing an expression of stubborn defiance, glancing back and forth, curiously at me and apprehensively at Dash. She alone positioned herself between me and Rainbow, while the others seemed to hide behind my back. Delight was obviously frightened, her healthy eye wide and peeking from behind her frazzled mane as she nursed her wing, dewing the charred ground with occasional drops of blood from the wound. And Red Wire was just glaring at Rainbow Dash with outright disdain, giving me disapproving glances from time to time. Even Trixie stood back, looking at the entire scene with clear concern.

Awkward silence hung in the air. Everypony present shifted anxiously, though each for different reasons. Despite my success with bringing all my friends in this world together, the atmosphere could be described as strained at best. And I knew why.

“What’s going to happen next?” I asked Rainbow. That had to be the question on everypony’s minds right now. Not that I wasn't curious as well. With the changelings added to the picture, the future had become unpredictable.

“I actually have no idea?” Rainbow rubbed the back of her helmet, scrunching her nose and frowning. I raised my brow questioningly. “I mean, I was ordered to retrieve an ‘invaluable equinoid’, undamaged and at any cost. I didn’t know it was going to be you, nor did I expect to be attacked by the locals and take casualties,” she explained, her frown deepening at the last part. “The problem is that right now my squad defied my orders and the Command Center is silent, though they didn’t cut me off.”

“Do you think Queen Chrysalis expected the equinoid to be me?” In my mind I listed all the times I had mentioned my name to anyone since I had ‘returned’. The most obvious guess had to be Archivarius, after all he was ‘the Crown’s property’, which in turn explained why he looked so uncanny – he was a pony created by changelings.

“I’m pretty sure this is why she sent me of all the Guards, and with a full squadron.” Rainbow looked around, squinting her eyes at some certain points in the darkness, though I could see nothing there. “One thing I can tell you with certainty – we need to leave the combat area right now.”

“Why is that?” Now all of us were glancing around in concern. Were we about to be attacked again? However, from what I had seen before, looking for the remaining members of Mercury's gang was an exercise in futility – until the Edge attackers opened fire, they were practically invisible. The rapidly growing dusk wasn’t helping the issue either.

“My squad didn’t return to base, they have encircled the clearing and are waiting – we absolutely need to retrieve the body, the armor can’t fall into anypony’s hooves.” So she was looking at the changelings hiding in the darkness – not a pleasant difference for me. Though, I could understand her concern – the Royal Guard’s invincibility had to be resting on the secret of their protection. After all, most of it was granted by the enchantments rather than the arcanium itself. If understood and deciphered, it wouldn’t be hard to eventually come up with proper counterspells. “And at the same time, we cannot afford to be seen lingering for far too long at the Edge, it can become suspicious,” she continued. “The last thing me and any of you want right now is the TCE police sniffing around.”

“It is too dark for traveling, unfortunately.” The sun had set, leaving us no chance to leave the Junkyard and head to the Badlands without risk of stumbling into the jagged metal scrap or tripping over our hooves. That is, if we were still heading there – I didn’t plan to leave the girls so soon, not to mention Rainbow Dash now that I had met her. And there was also the question of if I would be allowed to do that – Princess Luna, sane or not, meant a death sentence for Queen Chrysalis.

“And you were heading to…?” Rainbow asked, tilting her head. Flower and Delight joined her puzzlement, glancing at me.

“Trixie and I wanted to find Princess Luna.” I could almost feel the girls’ confusion, especially Flower’s; she began to open her mouth in an obvious question, so I added, looking at her, “Not before visiting you, however.”

“Well, it is very noble of you, but I don’t think there is anything left to look for,” grumbled Rainbow, who to my amazement apparently had no idea Princess Luna didn’t die.

“Dash, she is alive.” Rainbow frowned in disbelief. The girls exchanged clueless glances as well, since for them my answer contradicted everything they knew.

“If she was alive, I wouldn’t be taking orders from Queen Chrysalis,” she retorted with an annoyed huff, still refusing to believe me. “Come on, Twi, it’s a waste of time.”

“Rainbow, I’m serious!”

“She is telling the truth – I’ve seen her myself,” came Trixie’s voice, though she remained where she was – a few paces from us.

For the first time Rainbow Dash seemed to acknowledge Trixie’s presence and turned to regard her with an unreadable expression, though her eyes were squinted in a somewhat menacing way.

Rainbow slowly walked to Trixie and stopped right before her. Despite Trixie being taller (the armor didn’t add much height to Rainbow’s frame), Rainbow seemed to tower over Trixie. And even though they both kept as neutral faces as was possible, the air between them was all but crackling with animosity.

“Trixie Lulamoon,” Rainbow Dash said slowly and carefully, her tone low, but otherwise peaceful. However, there was something else to her voice, some notes so subtle I wasn’t able to discern them. Disdain? Admiration? “I’ve wanted to meet you ever since I learned about you. About what you have done.”

I frowned. Even though I was undoubtedly happy to meet Trixie, I knew from the very beginning she wasn’t telling me everything. She might have been using dark magic for good, but there was something else to it – there always had to be a dire price paid for it, and now I wasn’t sure anymore if it was only Trixie who paid it. I took a step closer to them, but not only because I was utterly confused – I saw Trixie visibly tense and her gun poking out of the holster shift ever so slightly. Whatever was happening, the situation seemed to be escalating in the wrong direction.

“You won us the war,” Rainbow suddenly stated loud and clear. I blinked in confusion – Trixie definitely didn’t tell me something. “It may have taken you a while to figure where your loyalties lay, but you made the right choice in the end. I can respect that.” With those words Rainbow extended her hoof towards Trixie for a shake, which she hesitantly and gingerly returned. Meanwhile my mind raced, as I stood where I was with my hoof still lifted, frozen in the air mid-step. I tried to find a reasonable explanation to what just transpired before my eyes, considering the new information I had just learned. And after a few moments, pieces started to come together in my head.

Trixie had been using dark magic since before we even met for the second time in my ‘other’ life. And back then there was only one place where a pony could learn such things – the Coven, a fact only confirmed by Rainbow’s mention of misguided loyalties. However, I still had trouble connecting Trixie to the victory in the war. Though, she mentioned the King being betrayed and her being cursed at the same period of time, but that sounded like a crazy theory… Nevertheless, I now had to confront her about the whole truth.

“Thank you,” Trixie humbly replied, still recovering from what she (and I as well) had expected to turn into a fight; but apparently it didn’t take her much time, as she added with a chuckle, “I’m going to kill Soarin the next time I meet him for not telling me you were alive all this time.”

“Don’t blame him, it was me who gave the order not to tell anypony.” Rainbow smiled and waved her hoof in dismissal. Then her expression hardened. “So if Luna is indeed alive…” She fell silent for a few long moments, face scrunched in concentration. “I need to think about it, but right now we have to move out, fast.” She looked at me and for a single very brief moment her eyes shifted to the fillies right behind me. It took me a second to understand her subtle hint.

“Um, Flower, can we use your shack for the night?” I turned to the filly who bore an increasingly displeased and skeptical expression throughout the entire exchange between me and Dash and then between her and Trixie. Though to my guess the reason for this wasn’t genuine disapproval of everything transpiring before her eyes, but rather it was to hide a total lack of understanding. After all, the things spoken about were even erased from history, remaining only in the minds of the few who lived through them and still walked around.

However, perplexity didn’t linger for long on Flower’s face as more practical and personal concerns took up her mind. And it didn’t take her long to come up with the answer.

“Can’t see why not.” She shrugged nonchalantly but then proceeded to give a critical look not only to me but to Rainbow and Trixie as well. “Though I have no idea how you are all planning to fit in.” Her eyes shifted between the tip of Trixie’s horn (which marked almost twice Flower’s height) and Rainbow’s wings – even folded they were still giving her quite a volume. “There isn’t that much space for me and Delight already.”

“That’s because it has so much junk in it,” the pegasus in question dryly commented.

“They are components!” Flower snapped back, though I couldn’t disagree with Del.

“Nah, it’s garbage,” Wire quipped, joining the squabble and the girls began to exchange verbal jabs as they headed away from the clearing, leaving me, my ‘old’ friends and Del to come after them.

As we began to follow, Rainbow lingered behind to spend a few quick moments examining the fallen Guard’s armor, and by the time she caught up with us she had a first-aid kit held tightly under one of her armor’s airfoils.

“For your wing,” Rainbow quietly said as she passed the small white box with a red cross to Delight. “And for your service to the Crown,” she added just as low with a glance at Del’s burned Moth’s mark. Delight just silently took the kit with a timid nod and began to nose through its contents as she walked slightly behind me.

I stared at their exchange and an unpleasant question began to form in my mind. Now that I could clearly see the true purpose of brothels in Canterlot and the circumstances surrounding them seemed illogical no more, it left only one mystery unanswered. Were the Moths changelings? Delight certainly didn’t appear to be so. I could write it off as an act, but more importantly, her blood was red rather than green. However, that might be an illusion as well, the changelings were all about deception. I didn’t realize I had continued to stare at Del until I felt a soft tap on my shoulder. As I turned to see who it was, I saw Rainbow, who was looking at me intently and shaking her head slowly. I glanced at Delight again and she finally noticed my attention and smiled back at me around a mouth full of bandages.

What was I thinking? Of course she wasn’t a changeling. Delight had kindness so genuine that no monster like them could mimic, no matter how good they were at it. I had to do something with my mind, because I felt very soon I might start seeing changelings in anypony. The last thing I needed right now was paranoia taking me over. My gaze slid back to Rainbow, her expression couldn’t decide between being sympathetic and disapproving and I realized I was scowling. Regardless of how events turned out, the ride ahead of us wasn’t going to be smooth, that I was sure about.

After a couple of minutes of fierce bickering and muffled swearing Flower parted with Wire, leaving her to angrily stomp ahead, muttering curses. She slowed down and waited until I was walking beside her.

“What happened to you after we left? We expected you to take two days at most, but it’s been nine.” Flower’s tone was concerned, but I could clearly hear subtle notes of accusal in her voice.

I hesitated for a few moments before answering. How could I explain to a filly, though not so innocent, what I went through? Did she need to know about the sins of my past which echoed still?

“I ran into some trouble in the Tunnels,” I went with the truth, but decided to leave out the details. “I accidentally downloaded a virus.”

“You don’t get that shit accidentally,” Red Wire grumbled from my other side, surprising me – I had failed to notice her approaching.

“Tone it down, Wire,” Flower said harshly, glaring at her friend over my back, “she couldn’t know.”

Knowing the fillies, I had to cull that conflict before it began, or I would never hear the end to another verbal fight. The worst thing was that it seemed to be how their friendship worked – with borderline unhealthy banter. It was something I would definitely address at some point when I got the chance.

“I’m alright now, Flower, don’t worry,” I interjected, preventing Wire’s reply – she snapped her mouth shut with a frown. “How have you been? Did you escape without any trouble?”

“Yup, we’ve been fine,” Flower replied and then paused, turned her head back and continued in a louder voice over her shoulder, “except for Delight trying to kill me.”

The reaction from the usually mellow pegasus was instantaneous and fierce.

“I’d like to watch how well you do a perfect landing without depth perception!” she yelled at Flower in an extremely wrathful tone, scowling and letting the bandages she was applying to her wing fall out of her mouth and hang from her wounded limb or drop on the dirty ground. However, Delight’s eyes betrayed the true nature of her feelings – an almost hidden mirth sparkled in them.

“Yeah, Flower, shut the fuck up,” Wire readily re-joined the conversation, “it’s easy for you to talk when you have both eyes.”

I let out an exasperated sigh. I absolutely had to talk with them about the way they treated each other, including Delight, who might have good intentions, but ultimately was only fueling the spite between Flower and Wire. And I also began to have an idea of why Del and Wire were getting along – a common injury was a strange thing to bond over, but it seemed to work nevertheless.

As fast as it began, their little fight began to wind down. Wire was now walking beside Del, helping her fasten the bandages with her magic, while Flower was again trotting beside me.

“What was all that about?” I furrowed my brow in confusion at her question – she had to be more specific. Apparently, she took notice of my reaction and hastily added, “Is one of the Princesses really alive? And who are the changelings?”

“I’ve learned that Princess Luna somehow survived, but she is…” I paused momentarily, searching for the right words, “...not well and needs my help.” I really hoped that it was so, because the longer I thought about Trixie’s plan of just showing up before Nightmare Moon and hoping that she would miraculously regain sanity, the less I wanted to proceed with it. “And the changelings are an old enemy of Equestria.” I had to pause again and uncertainly added, correcting myself, ”Were.” Again, it was something I wasn’t sure about. A lot of things were pointing to Queen Chrysalis acting in the interests of Equestria these days, but it didn’t change the fact that ponydom existed in a living nightmare.

It took some time for Flower to process my words – she was obviously giving it her best try judging by her furrowed brows and scrunched snout. But apparently she couldn’t come to some certain conclusion.

“It is bad or good news?” Flower asked, looking at me expectantly.

That is where the problem was – I too couldn’t answer that question.

“I don’t know. It’s… complicated.”

Flower frowned at that, but said nothing and continued to walk by my side, as we followed Red Wire. Darkness embraced us from all the sides, and I could see only Wire’s scarlet mane in front of me, shining in the night with the reflections of her spell – a little yellow mote of light on the tip of her horn. I used my own magic to light the treacherous ground and no less dangerous surroundings. Because of the constant risk of running into some rusty and sharp debris, we moved carefully and thus rather slowly. And while Wire and Flower effortlessly evaded any decayed perils, I could hear Del, who followed me step by step, yelping from time to time as she was poked by the rotten iron bones. I turned my back and saw two eerie purple eyes a few paces away calmly gazing back at me – it seemed Trixie was absolutely comfortable with being completely submerged in the inky blackness. Though it came as no surprise. However, I couldn’t spot Rainbow in the dark behind me. Did she trail off?

Suddenly, her voice came from my side, almost making me jump in the air.

“So, Twi, how did you get back?” Even if Rainbow noticed that she spooked me, she made no sign of it and continued, “The last time I saw you, you were acting like a fancy calculator.”

At first I wanted to harshly reprimand her, but I realized that if Rainbow hadn’t changed her habits after a few centuries, doing so would be an exercise in futility. Instead, I began to think how to explain the peculiarity of my situation. Just like it was with Trixie, she thought that I ‘completed’ the transference and was the same Twilight who attempted it.

“This filly,” -I pointed to my other side- “Tin Flower, used my old recording crystals to create an equinoid and brought me back to life. Later I… re-acquired this body.” Inwardly I winced at my choice of words – I could still recall the ‘Twilight’s’ words from my hallucinations. Despite the fact it was at least the third time I had said that, my next words I had to force out of myself, “I don’t remember anything beyond the trial…”

“What trial?” Rainbow looked at me in genuine confusion, which lasted only until she saw my pained look, for I had no words. She grimaced, her eyes going wide for an instant, then mirroring my own. “Oh, right...” she mumbled and cast her gaze to the ground.

For a few minutes we trotted in heavy silence. I didn’t dare look at Rainbow, I didn’t want to see the truth in her eyes. She might have stopped thinking about that incident, but for me that memory was very fresh. My mistake didn’t kill Rainbow Dash, but it cost her dearly nonetheless, and I had just reminded her of that.

“Well,” Rainbow finally said, letting out a deep sigh, “that makes two of us, I missed out on everything that happened next, too.” Though her tone bore no notes of accusal or malice, only weariness, I still stubbornly refused to look at her. “And thank you for bringing my friend back, Tin Flower.” She threw over my back to the filly in a much more upbeat tone, though still noticeably tensed. Flower grunted something unintelligible in acknowledging the praise, but remained silent otherwise.

After five more minutes of silence which was disturbed only by muffled curses when the debris got the better of Del, Rainbow or even Trixie, we arrived atop the hill, where my journey once began. Flower’s sordid dwelling met us with shadows in the old wounds on the walls quivering from my and Wire’s light spells. Without missing a beat Wire disappeared inside, followed by Delight. Flower was the last to join them, though she stopped before the door creaking in the wind and gave me and the rest of the company a critical glance, shrugged and remained there waiting with a slightly curious expression.

By my side Rainbow emanated a quiet sound which I could only describe as a groan of skepticism. Flower’s previous remark was quite justified – it was clear Rainbow’s wings wouldn’t even fit the doorframe.

“I will stand guard outside,” she stated and quickly added, “I feel like the TCE has their hoof in all of this somehow.” With those words she trotted to the crest of the hill at a leisurely pace, to the exact place where I saw the scenery of Canterlot for the first time.

That left me and Trixie. In her case it was her horn which would be scraping the ceiling.

“And I want to check something,” Trixie said as she appeared at my side, as if literally materializing from shadows. However, she didn’t address me, but rather the filly at the door. “Tin Flower, right?” Trixie approached her, who seemed to be no less surprised than me but held defiantly as the figure shrouded in darkness towered over her. “Do you know where that psycho with that rifle lived? Because I don't believe that a filly that crazy was able to accomplish something the TCE had tried for centuries.”

“Mercury’s shack is between the nearest smelter and the old camp. It's the most decent looking one, can't miss it.”

“Good thinking, Trixie,” Rainbow suddenly commented from halfway to the observation point.

“The Crown owes me for this one,” she exclaimed back. “Again,” she added in a quieter voice, making me tilt my head in curiosity. Was that truly why Trixie defended the Crown? Yet another thing she didn’t bother to tell me about.

“Thanks, kiddo,” Trixie said to Flower with a shallow bow of her head and dived into the darkness, instantly dissolving into it.

With Rainbow now holding a silent vigil over the decaying landscape and Trixie gone to look for the origins of the devastating weapon Pepper Mercury wielded, I was left with only one thing to do – to follow Tin Flower into her shack. I had mixed feelings about that. On one hoof I wanted to take a moment of rest, to spend some time with the girls. But on the other, I couldn’t stop thinking about what was going to happen next – how my plans changed regarding Princess Luna and the next steps after that. I glanced at the dark armored silhouette of my old friend against the neverwaning neon glow of Canterlot. She needed time to think, and I might have things to reassess as well.

So I walked to Flower – she looked frazzled by the events of this evening and quite tired. I smiled at her encouragingly, hoping that today’s experience didn’t take too much of a toll on her psyche, and together we entered her humble abode.

Surprisingly, it looked a bit better than the last time I was there. But only a bit, the room was still very far from the order of the goat’s workshop or even that of Scuff Gear’s. I suspected I should have thanked Del for that – it must have been her who brought some cleanness to the messy interior. There were places clear of spare parts now, especially on the floor, where a relatively decent bedding resided – I couldn’t remember it from before. The empty window had a sheet of dirty cloth stretched over it – torn and having the sky and wind peeking in through the many holes, it was still better than not having half of the wall.

Delight and Wire barely paid us any attention as we came in. Del was busy with... cooking, or at least that's what it looked like. She stood in front of a small black pot on the small stove powered by an enchanted crystal, judging by the soft glow. The contents of the pot quietly bubbled, emanating the musty smell of mushrooms – probably the same I could see in the bunches besides the stove along with rusty tin cans. She stirred the meal and grimaced – whether it was from her lack of success or the gross nature of the ingredients she was using, I couldn’t tell.

Red Wire was fumbling with the remains of some device, probing it with telekinesis, tugging at the loose cables and making the screen and diodes blink back to life as she funneled her magic into them. Flower approached her, took the broken gadget from her friend’s hooves and did something, and it came to semi-life – the light coming from it became steady, but very weak. Wire pursed her lips at her friend’s success and lost interest in the device altogether, instead focusing on me.

“Well, Twilight, I must say you’ve gotten yourself a nice frame, much better than that heap of shit Flower glued together,” she finally said in her grouchy tone after studying me for some time.

“Hey! I’d like to see you do better!” Flower snapped at her while she still held the device in her hooves, still trying to completely restore its functionality.

“I’m not going to stoop down to your level, criminal.” To my immense displeasure, the fillies returned to their bantering routine for the umpteenth time this evening. As I contemplated stopping them once again, I wondered what kept them from outright fighting – Flower’s heavy metal hoof or Wire’s magic.

“As you can see the Crown is more than alright with this,” Flower grumbled, grabbing a screwdriver and sticking it into the device – she seemed to be adamant on fixing it.

“I think that Guard didn’t poke you with her guns enough,” Wire icily continued her verbal attack. However, Tin Flower seemed to be ready for it as she was very quick to come with a retort.

“You're just saying that because you almost shat yourself,” she grumbled almost incomprehensibly due to the screwdriver clenched in her teeth.

“Pff. Why would I?” Wire dismissed her words with as much nonchalance as possible. “She is just a pony with a gun, no big deal...” She let her words trail off in the way that it was obvious there was to be a continuation. Flower stopped for moment and raised her eyes at Wire to give her an annoyed look. The unicorn filly smiled incisively, making sure that her friend was now paying her undivided attention. “Trixie’s magic on the other hoof… that’s something I can call cool.”

The screwdriver fell on the floor and soon the device followed it, though in a much gentler way, and the accusing hoof pointed at Red Wire.

“Now, listen here, you…”

I rolled my eyes and turned away from the fillies. Though it could be a bit amusing, I had no desire to listen their debate on who was “cooler”, for I feared I might have learned some new words they shouldn’t have known. Stopping them was pointless just as well, since I had to root out the problem instead of just getting rid of the symptoms – it would take them about five minutes at most before they started to bicker again.

So I headed to the corner where Del made a makeshift table on the workbench and now was battling with the supper. To be honest, I couldn’t offer her much assistance, there was a very good reason why it was always Spike who cooked for us both. But I could lend some moral support and as I suspected, it might have been in order not just for cooking.

Since Delight was completely absorbed in the process, I waited until she noticed me – I didn’t want to spook her, not after today. Very soon she paid me a single glance out of the corner of her eye, acknowledging my presence, but said nothing.

“Del, are you alright?”

“Twilight, that’s very nice of you but I feel much better than I look.” She was very quick to realize I wasn’t asking her about her current culinary misadventures. And even after her reassurance I had a very hard time believing her words – the Edge certainly did her no favors for her appearance. Though her coat was not pristine when I first met her in the Tunnels, the Junkyard did everything possible to mar it with rust and grime, trying to make her resemble Tin Flower. Del now was wearing rags all over her body, but judging by how they were positioned, it was mostly to disguise her rather than keep her warm – her pegasus plumage worked on that already and despite the best efforts of the Edge it stood out with its almost white color. But at least she managed to keep her mane in relatively good condition, with Wire’s help, I suspected – that filly certainly cared about hers.

“I would give a lot for a warm shower and decent meal, though,” Delight continued, scowling in apparent dissatisfaction at the miserable meal she was cooking. “At first I was absolutely horrified by this place, but I got used to it.” She slowly looked around as if inviting me to take in our lamentable surroundings, but when her eyes stopped at me, she was smiling. “You know, after my entire life in the city, spending a week in the company of just two fillies is so refreshing. I didn’t know I’d forgotten how silence sounds.” She chuckled. “Also, Flower and Wire are such nice kids. Geode is actually a pretty sweet filly, once you know her better.” As Del used Wire’s real name, her smile gained a mix of triumph and slyness to it – getting that name meant a deep degree of friendship with that filly, something I didn’t have. “Taking care of them almost made me regret becoming a Moth,” she finished with barely noticeable sorrow in her voice.

“Hm?” I tilted my head at her. Did I miss something when she was telling me about her former occupation?

“Part of the job,” Delight very quietly replied. Her voice became so soft I could barely discern it over whistle of the wind in the rust-perforated walls and the girls’ quarreling. “The Moths can’t have foals.”

It took me a moment to actually register that she was saying and connect the dots in my head. I gasped.

“I’m so sorry…” I moved closer to her to offer a sympathetic touch or even a hug if needed, but Delight leaned away.

“Don’t be.” To my surprise her voice was full of scorn and bitterness. “I’m glad I made that choice. Nopony so good and innocent should suffer this city,” she hissed, giving a very quick glance to the fillies who oblivious to us were still arguing about who was more ‘awesome’ from my ‘old friends’ they recently met.

For a few moments a heavy silence hung between us. I realized that I couldn’t actually argue with Delight’s point. It wasn’t a place for foals and that applied not only to the Edge but to every place I had seen so far.

Del’s breath was audible – the air forcefully coming from her nostrils flaring in anger. But her state of wrath didn’t last for long and she turned her head to look at me, studying my face for some time.

“Are you alright Twilight?” She finally asked, squinting at me. “You have been away for a whole week and… there is something different about you.” She flicked her ear and added, “Not that it’s a bad thing.”

Once again, I hesitated with the answer. I didn’t doubt Delight’s ability to understand the intricacies of that I went through. But the question was the same – did she really need to know? What would change if I told her I had faced my past mistakes and came out as a different pony from what I was, even before the Great War? She respected me already, so much that without hesitation she followed what was basically an order to take a filly she barely knew and flee to one of the worst parts of the city. I didn’t need to prove to her that I had changed to something better. She, like Flower and Wire, accepted me as is.

“I…” I paused momentarily, searching for the best way to put the days spent battling with insanity deep under the city into a few words, “ran into some trouble in the Tunnels with my memories. It was related to my…’previous’ life.”

Any traces of the burst of anger Delight just had vanished from her face completely and a watchful sympathetic expression overtook her features.

“I will lend you an ear, if you need.”

As I expected, it didn’t matter for her. Just as it was when we were traversing the streets of Canterlot I saw in her the reason why it still stood – there might have been many things gone from Equestria and forgotten, but not true friendship.

“Thank you, Delight.”

I silently watched as Del finished cooking the mushrooms and poured the steaming meal into two metal bowls, leaving the rest in the pot and taking it for herself. The result of her exertions was as good as it could be, I supposed. Somewhat pleasant-smelling, brown mush sloshed in the dishes. In other circumstances it wouldn’t be possible to call it a proper meal, but considering that mushrooms and a few cans of preserved vegetables were the only supplies at her disposal, it was probably the best option. Much better than chewing on raw slimy rampled shrooms and certainly better than eating mold.

The moment Del finished filling the bowls, the fillies approached them to take in their hooves. They were already done with their argument, though without coming to any conclusion. So Tin Flower had returned to her attempts to repair the device, but without much enthusiasm, while Wire had leaned against the wall and dozed off. It was quite clear they were running on fumes – the long day had certainly taken its toll. Now they all sat closer to the lamp in the corner, with Delight soon joining them with the pot under her uninjured wing, and began to slurp the gruel.

As usual, I had no need and no ability to join their meager meal and instead just sat with them, as silent as before.

Every so often, one of them would steal a glance at me full of curiosity, but it was very quickly snuffed like a candle in the wind by drowsiness. There was an unspoken understanding between us – nothing was decided yet and things would be clearer in the morning, but not earlier. Ironically, of all of them I probably hoped for it the most. While the girls would have their oblivious rest, I had to think of what steps I was about to make and by extension, they as well, for our lives had become too intertwined by this point.

The girls licked the last drops of their supper from their dishes and, after putting them on the improvised counter, began to settle for the night. Taking me unaware, Delight hopped in a rush of feathers onto one of the racks with boxes and spare parts. On top of it was a nest made from rags and loose feathers, something I failed to notice when I first entered this shack. Her single eye peered from the shadows as if asking me, “What?”, but I just smiled faintly and shook my head – the pegasi and their habits. Another pair of eyes watched me from the dim of the shack – Flower looked at me fixedly from the bedding where she and Wire lay side by side to save warmth on this cold night. The red-maned filly was already fast asleep, judging by the slow rise and fall of her sides. In less than a minute, Flower’s intent gaze went out as her heavy eyelids dropped, letting the tired filly succumb to the world of dreams.

And nightmares. I doubted Princess Luna cared about guarding the Dream Realm in her state. One more reason to save her. But would I be allowed to? There was no question of what would happen to Queen Chrysalis with the return of Princess Luna – the vile witch would do anything to stop me if she knew. But did she? I didn’t know if Rainbow had told her anything and if she would betray my plans or help me.

I could sit here all night long, silently asking question after question, but I would never receive any answer. However, there was somepony still awake, and I hoped that now, after some time had passed, Rainbow Dash would be ready to discuss the future. But with how our last talk ended, I wasn’t looking forward it.

As quietly as possible, to not wake the filles and Delight, I exited the shack and entered the night.

It was apparent that the Thunderspires rested as the veil of darkness ceased to cover the city. It meant that the storms surrounding them dissipated, letting the Moon bathe Canterlot in its mellow glow. But the city rejected it, replacing the moonlight with cold neon, so bright it blinded the stars, making them hide in the darkness of the firmament. And under that blank sky Canterlot churned with life even despite the night. It felt like a cruel joke now when there was the possibility of Princess Luna’s return – ponies had finally begun to appreciate the night, but at the cost of turning it into a nightmare.

The picture before my eyes was pretty much the same that met me not so long after I woke up from my ages-long slumber. Back then Canterlot frightened me as if it was unfamiliar and strange, something novel. But now, when I knew the truths it held, the dark secrets it concealed, it was only bringing sorrow to my proverbial heart. There was nothing new about it, nothing marvelous, only the timeless flaws of ponykind disguised as progress.

The only thing that was different now was a pony sitting against the glowing landscape. I let out a deep sigh – there was no escape from it, I couldn’t run from myself, I was different too now.

It felt like I was wading through slog as I approached Rainbow Dash. She gave me a single sideways glance and then continued to scan the scenery for any signs of trouble.

I steeled myself.

“Rainbow, I’m sorry,” I said quietly and as steadily as I could.

She tore her gaze from the view of the Junkyard and the city and turned to me with a confused expression.

“Huh? For what?”

“For the trial,” I whispered, hanging down my head. I couldn’t bear myself to look at Rainbow right now and feared to hear her next words like nothing else.

“Twi…” she softly chuckled and paused. It wasn’t a reaction I expected. “You…” She groaned in exasperation. “Agh… just don’t be ridiculous.” I felt her hooves on my chin as she lifted my head to look me in the eyes. They bore no hint of accusation, just the endless serenity of somepony who came to peace with her past. “It’s not your fault, we were at war – it could have been Sombra’s spies. Or it could even be the changelings.” She rolled her eyes with a shrug. “We will never know.”

“And if it was my fault?” I choked out the only option she omitted, the only that mattered.

Her expression didn’t change, if anything her calm smile only grew.

“Mistakes happen to everypony, Twi.” She let go of my chin, put her hoof on my shoulder and tilted her head a bit in an expression of assurance. “Really, stop it.”

I felt like a huge weight was lifted from my shoulders. I was really glad to know that the event which changed our lives didn’t weigh on her mind and even if she saw my fault in it, I was forgiven.

And now I was curious.

“So, um, how did you end up in this suit for so long?” It could save her from imminent death caused by wounds, but once they were healed, there would be no need to wear it anymore, at least not as Rainbow put it – being stuck in it.

“As you can imagine the explosion hurt me pretty hard. I was left alive but barely so – wings torn to shreds, multiple fractures and internal hemorrhages.” I winced. If I was left blind and semi-paralyzed from being that far from it, then Rainbow was either incredibly lucky or wasn’t telling me everything. She rubbed the back of her helmet and continued, squinting in search of the memories – it probably wasn’t a topic raised very often in her life. “I don’t know who it was, changelings or ponies, they put me into a coma to prevent my brain from getting more damaged than it already was. And since the medicine at that moment couldn’t do much for me they used some kind of time-bending runes to put me into stasis and then to keep me alive after I was awake.” Grimly, she added, “I’m not sure if Chrysalis woke me up because everypony I knew was gone or if she had finally gotten a new set of organs for me.”

“Why did she even leave you alive?” Rainbow Dash was a soldier clad in the armor that won the war. Leaving her alive, not to mention waking her up in the midst of the Hive, was a huge risk. “Not that I’m not glad about it.”

“Why didn’t she kill you while you were unconscious? Why put Pinkie in an asylum and exile Fluttershy to the Everfree instead of just assassinating them?” she retorted with questions just as fair, making a very good point. “It’s gonna sound strange, but that’s not her method. She prefers to use ponies instead of removing them.” I felt my face form a scowl on its own, and Dash, noticing that, quickly added, “Though there were exceptions.”

For a few moments we sat, Rainbow returning to studying the surroundings, while I was calming myself. Finally, I felt that I was able to temporarily forget all the lives Queen Chrysalis took as ‘exceptions’. I focused my mind of the next subject of my interest.

“How do these runes work?” I suspected that the pony I saw in the Deep Tunnels and who, if I understood everything Trixie and Dash said, happened to be Soarin, had the same runes on his armor. The last time I saw them was when I ‘borrowed’ Starswirl’s scroll with a time traveling spell. There was a reason such magic was contained in the restricted wing of the Royal Archives of old. It wasn’t as much a problem of them getting into the wrong hooves, but rather their instability and lack of instructions. Nopony really knew how time-bending worked, and experimenting with time and space was an extremely dangerous endeavor.

“You’re asking the wrong pony, Twi,” chuckled Rainbow. “I only know they keep me alive as long as I’m wearing this suit.”

“What happens if you take it off?” I cast a concerned glance at her.

“I dunno, never tried, but nothing good I think. The changelings who work on its maintenance say I’d likely to turn to dust in a few seconds – ‘that time is going to catch up and take what it owns’.” Despite Rainbow’s attempts to sound nonchalant, there was noticeable uneasiness in her voice.

“It must be hard to wear the suit of armor all the time, even if it’s enchanted.” Not to mention that a single seemingly nonserious injury could turn fatal just because it would cause a break of airtightness.

“The armor can be removed.” She hooked her hoof under one of the plates and lifted it like a scale, showing a smooth surface of synthetic fabric underneath. “When I’m not on a mission, I’m only wearing a costume of special cloth.”

“It still doesn’t sound completely comfortable.”

“I have had a lot of time to get used to it.” Rainbow shrugged and then looked at me, her eyes studying my metal body from the rock-ravaged hooves to the sharp tip of my arcanium horn. “Speaking of getting used to things, how are you doing in this body?”

“Not as bad as at the beginning, and Moondancer did great work preparing it for me, I even got my magic back.” I decided not to go into details of how bad it was in the beginning and that only very recently I became accustomed to my artificial flesh.

“Good to hear.” She nodded and returned to watching the sky and rusty scrap decaying underneath it. “You know, you don’t have to stay with me, better have some rest.”

“I don’t think it is an option for me anymore, Rainbow,” I bitterly muttered. There were also many other things I couldn’t do.

“Your body is a machine, but your mind is not – you will go crazy without sleep. Even the equinoids need it,” she patiently explained. “Go, I’ll be fine.”

It was then I realized that I actually underestimated Rainbow’s ability for subtlety in conversation. She was trying to hint to me that while she might not mind my company, what she was doing was very serious business and she better not be distracted. So I nodded and left, heading back to Flower’s shack.

The lamp in the corner cast its quivering shadows on the ponies asleep. Del’s wounded wing hung from her nest like a banner. Flower and Wire were exactly where I saw them last time, tightly pressed back to back.

Trying not to stomp with my metal hooves against the rusty floor, I came closer to them and adjusted the rag they used as a blanket to cover them better.

As I looked around, I realized there wasn’t much free space for me to lie down except on the edge of the bedding. Even more carefully I stood on it and lowered my body, wincing when I heard grit scrunch in my joints. I grimaced – I was just five hundreds years old... But jokes aside, I needed to ask Flower to help me with that as soon as possible.

I closed my metal eyelids and tried to relax my mind. As Rainbow said, while I felt no fatigue, there was some weariness to my mind, like when I hadn’t slept for a few days. As hard as I could I avoided thinking about anything troubling, though since nothing in my current life wasn’t such, I had to settle on just void. And very soon it accepted me.

My dreams, as if they could be called such, lasted a few minutes until I would surface from them like from a shallow pond, return briefly to reality, and drowsily, semi-consciously observe its quiet peacefulness. I dreamt of the green flash of dark magic followed by the rain of singed alabaster feathers and distant cry of a broken heart. Of a filly in my hooves, both of us reading the same book together. Of cyan eyes with dragon-like irises, but somehow I knew those didn’t belong to a reptile, nor to a pony, but to something else I couldn’t recall. Of genuine laughter. Of a chittering voice and hoarse replies…

But that wasn’t a dream, it was what met me one of the times I emerged from my strange not-quite-sleeping state of mind – hushed voices right beyond the door. I instantly recognized one of them as belonging to Rainbow Dash, though I couldn’t make out the words. The other one, however, wasn’t only unfamiliar, but there was some oddity to it, a sort of accent, a click-clacking quality. I took me a few moments before I realized I was listening to a changeling speak.

I instantly tensed and began to funnel magic in my horn.

What were they doing here? What it was saying to Rainbow? Did she… Did she decide to betray me?

And in a second I felt a sharp pang of guilt. What was wrong with me? Could I have at least a bit of faith in the most loyal friend ever? My paranoia struck from the shadows of my mind, without me noticing, again. Not only was the entire notion but a twisted fear born from the depths of my head, but if Rainbow indeed wanted to see me dead or captured it would have happened hours ago.

However, I still wanted to check what was going on, so I tried to stand up only to find out I couldn’t – there was a weight on my body stopping me from that. My gaze slid down and I saw Tin Flower using my flank as a pillow, preventing me from any movement, or rather, forcing me to wake her up if I wanted to move my lower body.

That was a situation I didn’t expect, nor could I decide what to do. Finally, I came to the conclusion that sating my curiosity wasn’t worth Flower’s sleep. Though, it didn’t mean I was going to have any myself – I felt somewhat rested, or at least better than before. So I just decided to lay there and try to listen to the muffled conversation.

As the minutes passed, I yielded no results. The voices were still too quiet to discern, and after a while they disappeared completely with a soft sound of hooves scrunching against flakes of rust. However, not much time went by before I heard them again.

“How's things been going in the Deep?” Rainbow croaked, addressing an unseen and silent pony, who I could guess was Trixie, judging by the nature of the question.

“What, don't you get Soarin's reports?” came the reply in that strange echoing voice of Trixie’s, confirming my guess. In the background I could hear soft flapping noises. She was dusting her long-suffering cloak most likely.

“I do, and I always read them thoroughly. But he isn't a unicorn, some things are missed by him,” Rainbow retorted in a bit of an irritated tone.

“All the same, I think.” Her answer came after a slight pause and didn’t sound very certain.

“You think?” It seemed I wasn’t the only one who noticed that.

“There is something, maybe, but…” Trixie’s voice trailed off. I could easily imagine her muzzle scrunching in confusion and Rainbow’s in impatience. “I'm not sure.”

“Spill it, Trixie.”

“You know there is an anomaly, right? It feels like it's becoming more unstable.” I strained my hearing not to miss anything – the mystery of the Deep Tunnels still captivated my attention. However, my interest was somewhat ruined by the fact Trixie was again withholding something from me. It was becoming a concerning issue – while she didn’t seem to outright lie to me, it wasn’t the first time she had told me less than the whole truth.

“I thought it was already as weird as it can be,” Rainbow grumbled, and I couldn’t disagree with her. “What's wrong with it?”

“I've been patrolling the Deep Tunnels and there are more twists and turns. Less dead ends. They also go up and down now, that has never happened before. And there are many more madponies.”

Well, that wasn’t very objective evidence. Considering how weirdly the Deep Tunnels worked already, them becoming more convoluted could be just some kind of reaction on Trixie’s part. Or something else. I had never dealt with those kinds of things before, and if even Dr. Hooves who studied it for centuries couldn’t give a definitive answer, spending my time trying to solve that riddle was nothing but an exercise in futility.

“We are living in hard times, Trixie,” Rainbow scoffed bitterly. “And that hardness breaks ponies more than ever.”

“I don't know, Rainbow, the Temple of the Forgotten Deities was never full, no matter what.” Trixie wasn’t giving up on the idea of her observations being meaningful. “But not these days.”

“Remind me, who do they follow?” That was actually a very good question – strange it didn’t occur to me earlier. The madpony called Pinkie a harbinger… but whose advent was she foreboding?

“Insanity. Not even once in more than four hundred years have I gotten a coherent answer to that question.” That was one way to resolve that question, and, I was afraid, the only correct one.

“So, what do you think is causing all this?” Even though Rainbow sounded in doubt of most of Trixie’s explanations, she refused to drop the topic completely. “Another dark mage?”

“Don't think so, I would have known.” I heard Trixie let out a deep sigh of frustration. “But something is happening.”

There was a pause, and I could almost hear Rainbow frowning.

“I'll keep that in mind, but we've got more serious problems on our hooves right now.”

“Can't argue,” came Trixie’s response accompanied by a somewhat mirthless subdued laughter.

There was a considerable pause before she spoke again.

“How's Twilight?”

I strained my hearing again, but this time it occured to me that I actually only thought of doing it. After all, my body was made from mechanical parts and there was no way I could make my sound receivers work better just by force of my will. Anyhow, I tried to listen more carefully, though it felt a bit like eavesdropping.

“She is fine, with the fillies right now,” Rainbow curtly replied and added, “I could ask you the same question, though. You have spent more time with her after all.”

“Twilight took it all much better than I expected,” Trixie didn’t hesitate with the answer for a single moment. “She is different from what I remember.”

That made me feel a pang of shame. In that record I did indeed sound different – jaded and acerbated. I felt bad knowing that Trixie had to tolerate me for many years. Even though it wasn’t really ‘me’, I began to become that way before the fated trial which split my life in two. On the other side, I was happy that I managed to leave that path leading to more than just simple grief.

“Yeah, it seems that all she went through the last couple of weeks brought her back, the old Twilight, as she was before the shit hit the fan.” I rolled my eyes at Rainbow’s choice of words, though in the present company it didn’t matter much – Red Wire could easily give her a run for her money. “To be honest, I never expected to see her alive ever again. But I’m not saying I’m not happy, I’ve just forgotten surprises can be pleasant. And with her around, the future seems a bit brighter. We need her now more than ever.”

“And I think we may need her right now, because I’ve found something, but can’t make heads or tails of it.” Trixie’s response was accompanied by the rustle of paper.

“What is it?” Rainbow asked with a clear curiosity in her voice.

“It seems like a blueprint for the rifle that pegasus used.” That made me very curious as well. I wasn’t fond of weapons, but I did want to learn about the technology that powered it.

“Let me take a look, I know a thing or two about guns.” But after a short pause, Rainbow concluded in a distraught tone, “Yeah, makes no sense to me either.”

It seemed it was my cue. Fortunately, Tin Flower changed her position in such a way that I wouldn’t wake her when I stood up, though I still had to do that extremely carefully.

Judging by the pale light coming from the holes in the walls and the improvised curtain, it was still very early in the morning and thus Del and Wire were also asleep. So, I crept to the door as silently as I could and winced when it creaked as I opened it. Luckily, it didn’t disturb the sleep of my friends, or at least it didn’t seem to when I turned my head to check the room once again.

The outside greeted me with gloomy weather, but at least it wasn’t raining. Rainbow and Trixie both turned to look at me from where they were sitting – on a shiny metal box which wasn’t there before. And it also seemed Trixie brought not only the blueprints with her – a medium-sized sack was resting at her side full of mysterious contents.

“Good morning, Twi.” Rainbow was the first to acknowledge my appearance, though as soon as the last word left her lips, Trixie joined her in welcoming me with a single silent nod.

“Decided to join us in our little brainstorm?” Trixie asked with a raised eyebrow and invited me with her hoof to take a look at the inscrutable blueprint.

I approached them and took a look at the schematic.

It took me a few moments to understand what I was staring at. It was a mess of lines, not because of the execution (the lines were perfect and straight), but because of their amount and the general complexity. The device suggested a complex system of connections leading to simple coils, but other than that I couldn’t draw many meaningful conclusions from that blueprint. The weapon relied on magic crystals only as a power source, it seemed, which was confusing and amazing at the same time. It meant there was scientific principle rather than magic behind this creation.

I was so absorbed in my attempts to understand the mysterious mechanism that I failed to notice Tin Flower standing by my side and doing the same until she spoke.

“I may have an idea of how it works, I’ve seen Mercury hammering away at it.” Her words were met with bewildered glances, but without a hint of scepticism – my presence was proof of her skill. “These coils here are actually magnets, everything that goes inside them is pushed out.” She pointed at the said parts on the schematic with her metal hoof and commented, “Given enough energy they can push stuff out of them at extreme speeds.”

“There are ten coils on this blueprint and each has an empowering enchantment,” Trixie mumbled and as I followed her gaze I could clearly see it for myself – the runes I had missed initially.

“The trick is in setting them to power up at the precise time, so the bullet will be sucked into the next one and pushed harder with each one,” Flower continued, her hoof sliding from the first coil to the last. “Now I know why she needed that old wave generator.”

Now, when Flower uncovered the weapon's secret, I quickly became capable of reading that schematic. I could discern condensers woven into the electric network, supposed to power up the coils, making them emit magnetic impulses to propel any ferromagnetic object through them.

And as I glanced around I saw the same understanding dawning on everypony present. Even Rainbow Dash furrowed her brow in concern – it was clear she hadn't only spent her time warring with the city, but had learned some ‘egghead stuff’, as she called the sciences. And she was the first to speak aloud, voicing a grim conclusion to her swift analysis of the contraption.

“So, we are looking at a gun which is powerful enough to rip through enchanted arcanium like wet paper. It's silent, can use almost any metal crap for ammo and on top of that it also almost doesn’t need any complex enchantments,” she stated levely, but I could hear a hint of deep dissatisfaction in her voice. The implications hung in the air like storm clouds.

“Yeah, I would say it’s pretty neat, though I’m not into weapons,” Flower commented, oblivious to the gravity of situation.

“And I would say it is really bad news,” Trixie spoke in turn, scowling. “It’s the TCE's work, no doubt, the only question is how it has ended up at the Edge.”

“They were testing it here so we won’t know,” Rainbow hissed. “We have spies all over their facilities, but we don’t watch the Edge and the Junkyard, especially so close and for that kind of stuff.” It was hard to say if was she angry at the TCE for creating such a thing or at the Crown for missing it under their nose, but either way she was anything but pleased with the situation.

“Who knows what else is hidden there,” she grimly concluded, rolling the blueprint and passing it to Trixie. “We have to make it to Luna and back really fast, the Command Center has to be made aware of this, and we must scour the other sectors for any suspicious devices.”

At first I thought I misheard her, so casually she dropped that information.

“You are coming with us?” I asked incredulously. “And letting us go to Princess Luna?”

“Affirmative, the Guard came by a few hours before the sunrise. Chrysalis ordered to proceed and sent us some supplies,” Rainbow said tapping the metal crate with her hoof.

“I don’t understand. Princess Luna is mad with the idea of killing her,” I exclaimed, my brows furrowing in confusion.

“It may look so, but Chrysalis isn’t dumb.” Noting my and Trixie’s eyebrows, she added, “Well, not that dumb. For her, Luna is a wild card, so she probably wants you to deal with her.”

“What do you mean by ‘deal with’?” I didn’t like the sound of that. She already ‘dealt with’ Princess Luna’s sister. And now Luna was the only one who could challenge Queen Chrysalis.

“I’m not sure.” I could see Rainbow’s eyes mirroring my exact concern, however, she didn’t change her mind. “But the last thing we need to have around is Nightmare Moon.”

“I don’t believe Queen Chrysalis is willing to risk bringing Princess Luna near her, because I’m sure the moment we free her from the madness she is going to even the Sky Palace with the ground!” I yelled at Rainbow in irritation. Yes, I was happy she was coming with me and Trixie, but I didn’t like it being part of Chrysalis’ scheme which, despite Rainbow’s reassurances, did sound either stupid or malicious.

All my yelling seemed to wake up Delight and Wire – I could see them peeking through the doorway in the corner of my eye .

“Chrysalis must have a plan even if she didn’t share it with me.” Rainbow shrugged, making it clear she didn’t really care about any deeper works behind what was about to take place.

“To me it sounds like her plan is to kill Princess Luna!” I finally snapped at her, fed up with her willingness to follow the Queen’s orders and refusal to think of her true motives.

However, it seemed that Rainbow was also fed up, but with arguing with me. She sharply stood and approached me, rising her hoof to point right at my face.

“First, she doesn’t have enough strength for that,” she began to chide me in aggravated tone. “Second, we don’t have much of a choice. Something has to be done with Luna and I suspect that if we refuse to cooperate, we won’t last long.” I took a small step back. Was that a threat? Or was she talking about the danger ‘Nightmare’ Princess Luna posed? “And finally, we don’t know if we can save Luna or if there is anything left to be saved, the insanity could have consumed her completely.”

She gave me a hard stare which I returned unwaveringly, then she turned on her heels and went to the crate, opened it and beginning to rummage through it.

“I wasn’t given any concrete instructions, so let’s just follow the orders and act according to circumstances, not assumptions,” she threw over her shoulder as consolation, but it helped none.

I wasn’t pleased with the situation. On one hoof, I was about to do what I had been planning to do before I met Rainbow, but on the other I absolutely hated the fact that the entire endeavor was now being overseen by Queen Chrysalis and likely serving her vile goals. And returning to the first statement that I was planning to go with Trixie to the Badlands to see Princess Luna – I wasn’t sure it was a good idea anymore even before this morning, since, with Queen Chrysalis added to the picture, the whole situation had changed drastically and the priorities had shifted. And now I had absolutely no choice in the matter – I had to go there, not knowing what I was about to find, and then I had to return without any idea what would happen, and the accursed queen of the Swarm was in the middle of all of this.

As I stood fuming I totally forgot about the girls whispering in the doors, though it became very clear when Tin Flower approached me and, after giving an unsure glance to her peers, asked, “Can we go with you?”

“Absolutely not.” I almost choked on the ridiculousness of that inquiry, even though I had no throat. “It’s too dangerous!”

“I’m afraid I have to disagree with you, Twi,” Rainbow grimly commented from the crate and I noticed saddlebags lying beside it – more than three pairs and not all adult-sized.

“You just said yourself we don’t even know what we are dealing with!” I barked at her, becoming more and more agitated with the situation.

“They are witnesses and not just in the Crown’s eyes, but in the TCE’s as well,” Rainbow calmly explained, though I could see she was on the verge of losing her patience. “There is a very high chance you won’t find them here when we return.” The girls glanced at each other with wide eyes. “They will be safer with us.”

I couldn’t argue with Rainbow on that, she had a very fair point, and yet I was becoming absolutely livid with the fact that the whole situation was rapidly spiraling out of my control and, I was afraid, not into my friend’s hooves.

“Fine!” I yelled at nopony in particular and stormed away.

To avoid saying something I would regret, and not being really eager to be in company of anypony at that moment, I stomped to that fateful crest of the hill to calm myself. My eyes instantly fell on the dark tower in the heart of the city, in truth an alien barb poisoning all of Equestria by its vile influence.

I could glower at the scenery only for so long, and even that didn’t matter. The city didn’t care for my frustration, nor did the Junkyard’s rusty corpse. I let out a deep sigh – all that was left after my anger was mental exhaustion running very deep.

It would be a lie to say I was enjoying the adventure I had found myself in. It was so different from those I had with my friends in the past. And there were two main reasons for that. Firstly, I didn’t actually have to be a part of it, something I thought of before and returned to once again. I wasn’t a Bearer of the Elements, I wasn’t a Princess’ protege. I wasn’t even anypony important – just a pony who wanted to survive, not much different from any other pony in Canterlot, well, in that regard, at least. However, now there was Rainbow Dash, my friend. Would I leave her? Never. But something was telling me she wasn’t going to just leave the city with me if I asked her. And that brought me to the second difference: I couldn’t tell the sides in this huge mess. I didn’t doubt Rainbow’s judgment, or rather, I didn’t want to, but… If she was right, then Queen Chrysalis was a ‘good pony’ in this situation, and I knew it couldn’t possibly be true. If Rainbow was wrong, then I was about to help the changeling swarm to take a tighter hold on what was left of Equestria or serve whatever Queen Chrysalis’ odious goals were. If I was about to make the next step, I had to know where it would lead me and what would come after. That was where the problem was: I had no such freedom. I had to take the girls with me and follow Rainbow to an unknown fate, but in fact I was following Queen Chrysalis’ will by proxy.

I let out another deep sigh and closed my metal eyelids.

The best thing I could do right now was not to allow frustration to rule me and affect my interactions with others. Being mad and barking like an old dog at everypony would do no good to this already unpleasant situation. Nor would tarrying help; the sooner I dealt with it, the better.

I had noted before that it wouldn’t be a smooth ride, but it seemed my prediction came true much sooner than I had hoped.

Author's Notes:
Well, it is another of those peaceful chapters. I hope you don't find it too boring. And if you do I can promise you that on top of being giant (over 18k words) the next chapter has some juicy action and drama.
Again, I don't have many news. Chapter 13 is being editing and chapter 14 – written. I have one story not related to Aftersound in works (but it is too early to say anything) and after finishing chapter 14 I will decide the fate of the side story for Aftersound which I put on hiatus a couple of months ago.
Aftersound Project Discord server - it's a little community dedicated to discussion of the story and whatnot. Everyone is welcome to join.
There is also a one more community I recently joined - Pony Tales. It is a quite welcoming place dedicated to disscussing and working on many great stories (now including Aftersound). I think you may also find it interesting.
If you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know.
I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.
Stay awesome.

Chapter 13 – The road to hell is paved with good intentions

Aftersound

=================================

Written by:

Flutterfinar & Geka

Preread and edited by:

Cover art done by:

=================================

The road to hell is paved with good intentions

====================

I turned away from the city and began to walk back to the shack. Even from a distance, I could see that nopony had been idle in my short absence. The girls appeared to be eating some food rations brought along with the other supplies. By their sides, saddlebags rested, ready to take places on their backs. One more lay forlornly on the ground; it was waiting for me, no doubt. Trixie and Dash were quietly arguing about something over the map projected from Rainbow’s helmet.

As I came closer to the girls they gave me wary glances, but said nothing and returned to their meal. Judging by the lack of joy on their faces, those rations were supposed to only nourish – tasting good wasn’t an option.

I approached Trixie and Rainbow. While Trixie gave me a short neutral look, even a little sympathetic, Rainbow gave me a long hard stare, though I had trouble reading her expression.

“By my estimation we can reach the Badlands in a week. We are going to take a rest at midday and another at night,” Rainbow stated, pointing with her hoof at the map, where a glowing line marked our route on the translucent landscape of Equestria.

“I’m not sure the others will be able to keep up with that pace, Dash,” Trixie objected as soon as Rainbow finished.

She had a point: we were about to cross half of Equestria and reach its southern border. I glanced at the girls, who met my glance with questioning expressions but continued to silently munch on their food otherwise. I suspected they didn’t really have an idea of how much ground we had to cover.

“They are Edge kids, and that Moth is a pegasus, they have more than enough endurance for that mission,” Rainbow retorted, though she didn’t sound so sure. Covering that distance in one week on hoof with saddlebags full of rations required no less than a military marching speed.

“Rainbow,” I began, “I’m not really sure–” But she didn’t let me finish.

“Listen, I’m not saying we absolutely have to meet that goal, alright?” Rainbow’s expression softened. “We will proceed as fast as we can, but I’m not going to run us into the ground. I just want us to get there as soon as possible. We have enough food for more than a week from what the Crown supplied us, and Trixie fetched some from her contact here.”

“After I got the blueprint, I swung by Scuff Gear’s place.” Trixie made a sound somewhere between a gag and a chuckle. “Just as disgusting as ever, but he shared some canned goods. It will give us a few more days.”

That explained the sack Trixie brought with her. However, it made me think about any other sources of help we could appeal to.

“Why doesn’t the Crown help us?” If I had no other choice but to serve the Swarm’s goals, they could at least make it easier. “We could use some kind of a ride.”

Rainbow scowled and shook her head.

“If it’s spotted by the TCE, and I’m sure it will be, they won’t leave us alone. I’m not eager to find out if they have more than just prototypes of that coilgun,” she grimly explained.

I turned to the girls once again. They had finished eating and were exchanging nervous glances. Maybe they were beginning to understand what they had gotten themselves into; I was pretty sure Delight was already regretting the life decisions which led her into this mess.

Rainbow and Trixie hauled their saddlebags on their backs. A few moments later, the girls followed their example. I walked to mine as well. It wasn’t as heavy as I expected, though it was twice as big as those of the fillies or Delight. I guess it wasn’t its weight, but rather my perception and the strength granted by my pneumatic limbs.

As I shifted the supplies on my back and sides, trying to position the voluminous bags so they wouldn’t hinder my movement too much, Rainbow Dash approached Flower and Wire.

“Hey, kids, since you know the Junkyard the best, can you lead us out of it?” she asked, trying to sound as polite as she could.

Despite arguing about Rainbow’s ‘coolness’ just yesterday, there was a noticeable hint of apprehension in Flower’s eyes. Wire still glared daggers at Rainbow. Receiving a meal from the Crown had weakened her enmity, but not by much.

I met Flower’s eyes and gave her a nod.

“Yup, we can do this,” she finally answered. “Where do you want us to end up?”

“Right between the Abandoned Mines and the Junkyard – there is a direct route from there to the old roads.”

Flower nodded to Rainbow and nudged Wire’s shoulder, and together they trotted away from the shack into the narrow paths amongst the heaps of metal scrap.

Silently, we waded through the labyrinthine desolate landscape of the Junkyard. Flower and Wire led the way while Trixie and I followed them in a row, occasionally joined by Delight – when she could, she soared from one hill to another. Her injured wing prevented her from actively flying, unlike Rainbow who circled above us.

At some point we passed not so far from the smelter. I noted how, despite filling the air with smoke and heat, it stood still – the furnaces burned fiercely, but their hunger was denied. Pepper Mercury was dead, but the sector had yet to return to what it once was. If it ever would, of course. The things I heard during our visit to the Well spoke of change coming, though it was uncertain if it would be for the better.

We trotted for another hour, too busy evading protrusions of metal which posed a considerable threat even in bright daylight. Despite my best efforts, I already had a few deep marks left by the rusty claws and even more places where my already peeling paint was scraped off clean. However, it was no problem for the fillies. Their smaller size combined with the experience of an entire life spent in this place were serving them well.

So it was a bit of a surprise when Flower suddenly stopped like she was yanked by something. She turned around with a frown and squinted. Then she headed to the mound of scrap some steps back. Even more surprising was when she began to dig into it, using her metal hoof to shovel the rusty remains aside and her other hoof and mouth to throw them behind her shoulder.

Wire gave her a skeptic look for a few moments, but then her healthy eye went wide and she started to use her magic to help Flower remove the debris.

Trixie and I, confused as ever, approached them and soon we were joined by Del and Rainbow who landed behind us.

“Flower, what are you doing?” I asked, trying to look over her shoulder and see what she was searching for in that heap of scrap, but saw nothing of value – not to me at least.

“I’ve found something…” she huffed and puffed as she tried to haul away a particularly large piece of metal – a girder. Even with the help of Wire’s magic it was too much for two fillies. I wrapped my telekinesis field around its end and dragged it aside. That became a signal for the others, who joined the fillies in dismantling the pile of metal junk. Rainbow and, to my surprise, Trixie used their hooves powered by cybernetics to shove and push the scrap from the heap, while Del and I moved it aside to free the room.

After a few minutes, the top of the mound was removed, and I saw our goal: the relatively well preserved remains of a cart! I would have never noticed it there, so deep inside it was buried, but it appeared it wasn’t an issue for Flower.

Another dozen metal remains were thrown aside, and joining our forces, we pulled out the carriage.

The wagon design was very simple, basically a metal box on wheels. Since it was entirely made of metal and didn’t have any kind of seats or even their remains, it suggested that the cart was purely utilitarian in purpose and not supposed to be a means for transportation of ponies but only materials. Its hull was generously perforated by time and rain, but still held together strong enough. The wheels were worn and slightly rusty, but they managed to move with a loud groaning. Flower and Rainbow were already half-hidden by its bottom side checking on the axis and other inner workings. Soon they emerged, both beaming wide.

“Well, isn’t that a Hearth’s Warming miracle – a working cart!” Rainbow joyously exclaimed, dusting flakes of rust from her armored hooves.

“What’s ‘Hearth’s Warming’?” Flower scrunched her nose in confusion, taking Rainbow by surprise and making me wonder if Tin Flower didn’t know about it because she was born at the Edge or because that holiday was no longer celebrated.

“It must be from the Abandoned Mines, the TCE just dumped most of the stuff there after they were done with them,” Trixie commented, rescuing Rainbow from this awkward moment.

“Anyhow, with it we can save a lot of time and make it even faster than in a week.” Rainbow was quite eager to change the topic. And as she said that, I critically examined the cart again. It could certainly help us; however, there was one important question...

“Fair point, but who is gonna haul it?” Trixie beat me to it.

“You and Twi. I will be checking our path from the air.”

Trixie pursed her lips – it was obvious she wasn’t eager to act as a beast of burden. And a body mostly made of arcanium must be a bit too valuable for such things. Though, she did remain silent as Rainbow explained, “It has a harness only for two and it will surely break if we try to haul any of your metal asses anyway.”

I had nothing against pulling the cart, not when my body felt no fatigue, and Rainbow was also making a lot of sense. While she certainly could take Trixie’s place in the harness, that would leave Trixie just galloping along with us. Same would go for me if I were to not pull the cart. Delight wasn’t the kind of pony who would be very effective in doing such a job, despite Rainbow’s reassurances. Flower and Wire were out of the question, obviously.

Anyhow, now wasn’t the time to use it. With all the metal scrap in our way we would spend way too much time tearing the cart’s bulk through it. So I was left with only one option: I levitated the carriage above us. It was quite heavy, but considering how the metal junk began to thin out, we likely weren’t very far away from the Edge’s end, so I wouldn’t exert myself too much. Suddenly, I felt it become lighter in my hold, and as I raised my head to the sky, I saw Rainbow Dash holding the wagon by its corner with her hooves and smiling at me. I smiled back.

“Let’s get out of here, already,” she shouted to the girls, “I’m sick of all that rust.”

“You don’t say,” Red Wire grumbled loudly, and with Flower she began to weave our path between the metal refuse once again.

As we trotted, our surroundings started to gradually change. The hills of discarded and twisted metal remains began to lose in their height and eventually they became nothing but uneven patches atop the dirt, so decrepit that barely any scrap had any distinguishable form – they were just reddish-brown flakes now. On our right I could see peaks of the ridge becoming less and less prominent and yet closer to us. And on our left in the distance I could make out the charred wound in the earth that was the Toxic Dump.

After some more time, the surface we walked on became even enough for a cart, so I tugged on it, giving Rainbow a hint to let it go and lowered the humble transport to the ground. There was a moment of indecision which I spent looking Trixie squarely in the eyes. She grimaced, rolled hers, and together we approached the carriage to discard our saddlebags into it.

We began to fumble with the harness, or rather, it was mostly me – once again I noticed that Trixie was either avoiding using telekinesis or completely incapable of it. Meanwhile the girls climbed into the cart and were patiently waiting for us to finish. At some point a loud bang signified the moment Rainbow decided to drop her saddlebags in the wagon as well.

Finally, it seemed we were ready to embark; however, one more question remained. Before us, a vast sea of withered grass stretched away, desolate and depressing. Nothing else could be seen. In a moment, Rainbow landed in front of us with the map almost instantly being projected from her helmet.

“We should head that way,” -she pointed with her hoof to the distant horizon and slightly to the right- “there should be a bridge over the river,” she explained, using the same hoof to trace our route to the river.

“Should?” Trixie frowned. I couldn’t help but join her – the Black River’s torrent, originating from Mount Diamond Point then strengthened and made wild by the Everfree, was no joke. Of course Rainbow could carry us over it, but that would mean losing our cart, and I didn’t know the exact toll it would take on the energy reserves of Rainbow’s suit.

“Our scouts haven’t flown south for a while, so we don’t know for sure.” Rainbow paused and squinted at the horizon where our passage should be waiting for us. “Even if it’s not there, the river is the most narrow in that place, we have to cross it anyhow,” she finished resolutely.

With that, Rainbow rocketed to the sky leaving Trixie and me looking at each other. Without any word she began to slowly walk, and I followed suit. After a few steps she started to speed up until we reached a pace and continued to gain velocity for a few more moments.

The grassy plain was flat enough for the carriage not to jump on hillocks or dents at the speed we achieved, and luckily the cart’s suspension was functioning well enough to compensate for any other roughnesses of the earth.

I briefly glanced back and caught the sight of Flower and Wire looking around with eyes full of constrained curiosity. The scenery wasn’t very impressive, though it was still novel for them and likely a significant difference for somepony who spent her entire life amid deteriorating metal. Delight, however, was wistfully looking at the clouds.

I turned back to pay attention to the path but only a few moments passed before I heard unsteady flapping of wings behind me and a shadow passed over, soon followed by a white figure bolting towards the heavens – it seemed Del wasn’t able to resist their call. She dipped momentarily, making me tense up, but then continued to gain height steadily.

I returned to watching carefully where I was putting my hooves, but I could still see how she unsuccessfully tried to race Rainbow across the sky. Though I wasn’t a pegasus, I could understand her – the city was confined more than anything else and even the skies above it were cramped either with obstacles or with other countless fliers.

Hours passed.

Trixie and I were still steadily pacing across the monotonous landscape of the semi-dead plain, however, sometimes I could see a silver stripe of the Black River gleaming in the far distance, but I couldn’t make out the bridge – I hoped that it was simply too far.

We left the curtain of clouds, a skein from which pegasi wove storms to assault the Thunderspires, and the sky above our heads cleared, giving way to the warming rays of the sun. It was very welcome, not by me of course (I cared not for the cold or warmth anymore) but I could tell that the air had become noticeably more chilly since we left the outskirts of the city. So Flower and Wire made a bed from saddlebags on the sunny side of the cart and were dozing off there, bored by the dull scenery a long time ago.

Delight spent all the time spiralling in the sky, soaring high above us on outstretched wings, and she didn’t seem to be heading back to the earth any time soon. Rainbow was yet to touch the ground as well; however, her flight was very different from Del’s lazy sailing on the winds. Rainbow was racing across the firmament so close to the clouds she was sometimes disappearing in them, keeping a steady speed and making wide circles, observing the plain below and the path ahead. Sometimes she flew right above us barking an instruction to change our course a bit to the left or right, but those occasions were few and far between.

Not so long ago she had suddenly dived and headed towards the river, so now I was awaiting her return – she must have decided to check the place where the bridge ‘should’ be.

I wish I could say I did some thinking over those hours of travelling, but in fact focusing on keeping constant speed and avoiding tripping over my hooves was taking much more attention than I expected. The other reason for my unproductivity on that front was the fact I didn’t have the information to develop any thought I had without delving into the area of pure speculation. ‘Nightmare’ Princess Luna was a mystery to me just like Queen Chrysalis in her current state, which I was suspecting had to be somewhat different from the monster she was when I met her for the first and last time. So I had those semi-coherent fragments circulating in my mind like a skipping record, useless and annoying. With the scenery being the same, save for the different kinds of wilted grass periodically appearing under my hooves, I sunk into a state of trance. This was why it took some time before I realized Rainbow Dash had landed beside the cart and was barking my name at me as she cantered along.

“Twi, slow down, damn it!” Trixie yelled right into my ‘ear’.

I heeded her call and decelerated into a measured trot.

“Huh?” I swirled my head around, almost catching my hoof. “Is something wrong?”

“Not quite,” Rainbow grumbled, obviously annoyed by my lack of attention, then she cleared her throat and added in a more neutral and loud voice, “We are nearing the bridge and I have some good and bad news to report.”

I wanted to flick my ear in response, but realized it wasn’t an option for me. Nodding would go unnoticed just as well, since my gait already required moving my head. Anyway, while I was trying to figure out the way to answer Rainbow non-verbally she took my silence as a sign to continue.

“The good news: it is intact. The bad news – it seems we’ve got a case of squatters.”

Well, the fact that the bridge still stood fast was some great news indeed. The second part, though… I had some trouble gauging how bad that news could be.

“What should we do?” I asked Rainbow who was cantering by my side squinting at the distance where the bridge presumably awaited us.

“Nothing,” she said after a few long moments of silence. “They aren’t the Butterflies, so they aren’t likely to attack us on sight and will let us through.” She paused and somewhat menacingly and grimly added, “They will have to.”

Then she shot upwards, leaving me to contemplate on her last words. I definitely didn’t want some kind of fight to ensue, but we had to cross the river and keep the cart as well. It was past afternoon already, but without the cart we would have been lucky to reach the bridge by sunset and not be almost dead from exhaustion.

With Rainbow returned to the sky we had no need to keep it slow, so we sped again to pace and continued at it. And soon enough we reached an incline leading towards the river itself.

The Black River sparkled, reflecting the azure sky and the blazing sun, however, there was noticeable darkness to it. Something in the Everfree forest made the waters that way, churning with the twisted soil of the somber wilderness. Above those tenebrous depths I could see an equally dark bridge, made so by the dingy makeshift buildings covering it. Whoever had built them surely wasn’t a master architect; the entire settlement perched atop the bridge arc seemed to be ready to collapse into itself, holding together by some miracle – it was obvious even from such a great distance.

When we were somewhere around twenty minutes away from the bridge, Rainbow landed near us again and instructed us to slow down, taking the lead of our procession. I didn’t miss that the guns mounted on her shoulders came to life.

Delight had landed in the cart, and I could hear the quiet murmur of hushed conversation behind my back. Though the exact words evaded me, the intonation didn’t – concern and unsurety held reign. As we got even closer to the bridge, that mood only grew in power, and there was a very good reason for that.

The pass of the bridge was obstructed by a wall which looked like it was made from metal scrap hauled all the way from the Junkyard – rusty and falling apart. Uneven and skewed gates were the only way through. On a rickety catwalk on top of them, half a dozen hunched equine figures bristled with gun barrels.

They seemed to quiver; it was hard to say for sure from such a great distance, and whether it was from the cold wind wailing over the tumultuous waters or from fear was even harder to guess.

I heard a rustle behind my back. As I slightly turned my head – I didn’t want to let the ponies with guns out of my sight – I saw the fillies moving the saddlebags under Del’s command to make an improvised barricade along the front board of the carriage.

When we were close enough so I could almost make out the facial features of the ponies on the gate, Rainbow gave us a single wave of her hoof, signaling to stop, while she continued to advance forward.

The squatters looked clearly terrified by Rainbow’s approach and aimed the barrels at her form, however, she didn’t pause nor slow down, only stopping when she was halfway between our cart and the gates.

“Lower your weapons, citizens, assault on the Crown is a capital offense punishable by death,” she boomed in a commanding harsh voice, something I had never heard from her before (except for the case when she was shouting at Flower). The most unsettling thing was how perfectly that tone suited her and that I couldn’t tell if it was amplified by her helmet or it was that thunderous and menacing naturally. The fact that she appeared to be a heartless bringer of the law ready to dispense justice without a hint of hesitation would have sent chills down my spine.

“We left your cursed city, we are citizens no more!” one of the ponies, a stallion, desperately cried from the gates, pointing to his neck where I could see a badly healed burn.

“As long as you are on Equestrian land, you are to abide by the Crown’s law,” Rainbow stated emotionlessly, but her next words carried with themselves a not so subtle tone of threat, “Lower your weapons. Now.”

However, it had no effect on the squatters perched atop the gateway – if anything it seemed to only bolster them.

“What difference will it make? You came for our village anyway,” another settler, a mare this time, yelled.

I couldn’t help but wince from the pure despair in their voices. Those ponies were inclined to fight to the death and they knew the futility of their goal.

“Your illegal settlement is not our interest, we are going to pass through.” This time Rainbow’s voice wasn’t as intimidating, though still far from sympathetic. “A reminder – obstruction of justice is a major criminal offense. However, cooperation with the Crown won’t go unnoticed either.”

That finally had a somewhat positive effect on the ponies guarding the gates. They huddled together even closer than before and spent about a minute discussing, or rather, arguing about something judging by the hooves frequently thrown into the air and the angry voices carried on the wind. Then they suddenly disappeared from the gates and a few moments later the half-doors swung open with a loud creak.

Rainbow turned from them and cantered towards us, starting to speak and motion with her hoof to follow her as soon as she was within earshot.

“Alright, let’s just go through this settlement real quick before they decide to change their minds.” Although I couldn’t say Rainbow looked nervous, she certainly appeared ready for events to go bad, which wasn’t very reassuring.

“Um, Miss Dash?” Tin Flower’s timid voice suddenly came from the wagon as Trixie and I began to move.

“Hm?” Rainbow turned and paused in her trot towards the bridge, letting us catch up with her.

“We have to stop – I’d like to check Twilight's joints, I don’t like the scraping sound they make. And I’m pretty sure the axis of the cart needs another look too.” I winced inwardly – I noticed it more than once and long before Flower did, but forgot to take care of that issue when I had the chance. My knowledge regarding cybernetics might have been very outdated, but I was pretty sure the fact that ungreased metal parts would wear down, or even break, didn’t change no matter how many years had passed. At best we covered only one quarter of the distance to the Badlands, and at such a rate it would be my hooves which would fall apart before the carriage did.

Rainbow hesitated for a moment, but when it became clear to her that we had no choice she grimaced and gave her grudging answer: “Fine, but make it quick.”

It didn’t take us long to reach the gates – we moved hurriedly, following Rainbow’s advice and worried by the settlers’ inhospitality. On the inside, the settlement met us with its miserable appearance: one-story huts made of driftwood and rusted metal plates heavily perforated by the constantly high humidity. Aside from the movement and gleam of fearful eyes inside those dwellings, the only ponies who could be seen were the seven who were guarding the gates. They were standing and sitting in a small group, two unicorn and earth pony mares along with three earth pony stallions. All of them wearing dirty rags, clutching improvised guns in their hooves and glaring at us.

We stopped in the middle of the settlement, and I began to remove the harness from myself with Trixie soon following suit, mumbling something about scratches and polishing. Meanwhile Rainbow headed towards the gate guards. I saw how one of the earth ponies began to raise her gun with shaking hooves, but it was slapped down by an elderly stallion whose features were discolored by age.

“What else do you want from us?” he grumbled, fearlessly staring at Rainbow’s face.

“A repair kit and machine oil,” she demanded in a nonchalant and quite unceremonious manner making the entire group harden their glares at her. However, they remained silent, and the elderly stallion disappeared into one of the shacks only to return a few moments later with a rusty metal can and a bundle of greasy cloth, rattling with tools wrapped in it. He threw them on the ground in front of Rainbow Dash and hobbled away to the railing of the bridge, leaning on it and turning his gaze towards the horizon.

I knew, or rather, I really hoped that Rainbow didn’t mean to be that cold and was just acting like this to maintain the face of the Crown as an absolute law (which I didn’t like at all, to be honest). Anyway, I felt bad for those ponies and that elderly stallion in particular. I could very well understand their desire to flee from Canterlot and live their lives free from the predatory ways of the merciless city. So, after freeing myself from the harness, I left Tin Flower to take care of the carriage first and headed towards the grey-maned stallion.

I planned to excuse Rainbow’s attitude and explain in vague terms our situation and the circumstances making us act a bit harsher than we should have, but as I came closer to the stallion, he spoke first.

“Roped yer poor accursed machine kind into that, too, didn’t they?”

I was taken a bit aback with that question, mostly because I couldn’t discern the stallion’s feelings toward me – he sounded both sympathetic and mocking at the same time, resentful even.

“I’m sorry?” was all I could say, trying not to jump to any premature conclusions.

“Ain’t your fault, bucket, don’tcha take it personally, you didn’t do nuffin wrong,” the stallion bitterly grunted leaning from the rail to look me square in the eyes – with pity usually reserved for somepony who couldn’t be helped. “Twas’ ‘em who shouldn’t make sumthing like ya.”

I frowned. Was I facing a pony who was the opposite of Alnico Sermon? Disliking the equinoids just for what they were? But there was something more to it, something more complex… He didn’t hate me after all, but rather ‘them’. The Crown? The TCE?

“Why?”

The elder snorted and spat into the river before answering, “Making new life is fer the gods, not fer ponies,” the stallion ranted, coughing and scowling at both his failing throat and the things he was saying, “And we are gonna pay fer that, like ‘em Neighponese cock-horns did fer their folly – those damn winters will undo Equestria.”

What did Neighponia do? Was it equinoids of their own who brought their small nation to ruin, forcing them to flee to Equestria which they had considered, if not a rival, certainly not an ally for many centuries? Though it was not the mysterious tribe of unicorns and their grim fate that troubled me the most right now – this stallion’s fatalistic resignation to defeat and bitterness did.

“Don’t you think it’s too early to give up?” I could agree that climate change was one of the biggest threats the remains of Equestria were facing, but it was far from over; ponies had survived the Exodus after all. “Ponydom has gone through many hardships before and…”

“Nah,” the stallion cut me off. “When the cold winds begin to blow from the north I can feel it in my bones, the inky darkness seepin’ from ‘em right into my mind and whispering to me the truths.” I wish I could see insanity in the stallion eyes as he spoke, but he seemed to be quite lucid and serious, “We’ve betrayed our land and it rejects us now fer our insolence, tinhead. But what would you know...”

The elder stallion scoffed and turned away from me, turning his gaze towards the distant place where the sky meets the earth, as if waiting for the future he was foretelling to appear there. I was preparing to leave as he fell silent for more than a minute, but then he suddenly spoke again.

“We were meant to fall,” he sighed for the first time letting sorrow be heard in his rasping voice instead of vitriol. “Everything has to come to an end – now it’s our time, though I know it’s a thought such a hollow thing as you can’t ever comprehend with that bucket of yours.”

The frown returned to my face. I was aware he couldn’t possibly know that I was not really an equinoid, but his condescendence still nagged at my mind. He didn’t see equinoids as tools like they were treated by the law, but he seemed to consider the artificial life as something inferior nonetheless – unnatural beings of lesser minds, lacking awareness of how the world worked and failing to understand the idea of finality due to their quasi-immortality.

“Then why are you here?” He was making little sense – he and the other settlers came through a lot of trouble and were living at the risk of prosecution despite considering the entirety of ponydom doomed. “Why run?”

“I don’t run from my fate,” the stallion bristled, “I just want to spend my last days in peace, you metal fuck,” he scolded me like a foal who was asking silly questions, giving me an irked sidelong look. “Leave me, machine, go with your cretin masters, where you belong. Meet our fate with ‘em.”

I stood near the elder for a few more seconds, not really sure if I expected him to say more or if I wanted to say something myself. Realizing that he was not going to change his mind, nor were there any last words to have after the things he just told me, I left.

Disturbed and distressed, I approached our wagon. Tin Flower was nowhere to be seen, but judging by the grunting and the quiet curses coming from under the carriage, it was her who worked on its innards. Trixie stood with an utterly bored expression, holding the cart with her hoof to prevent it from falling – one of the wheels had been removed. Del and Wire were sitting not so far away, their heads leaned to each other in a private, inaudible conversation. And finally, Rainbow Dash stood like a statue with her head held high, guarding the cart.

As I came closer and sat down to watch them, Tin Flower began to bark something from under the carriage’s bottom, and after a few moments Wire dragged her out by the hoof with her magic, accompanying the whole motion with a roll of her eyes.

“Well,” she mumbled, wiping her grease-covered hooves on her coat, “The chassis isn’t in the best shape, but it will hold together for a little while longer.” Her eyes fell on me. “Let’s take a look at you now, Twilight.”

Since Flower was already standing by me, she wasted no time and began to use a screwdriver somewhere near my shoulder. Suddenly I started to fall down – Flower had removed my entire front right leg! Fortunately, Del was quick enough to catch me mid-fall, and with her help I steadied myself. Meanwhile, Flower, oblivious to my discomfort, was twirling my limb in her hooves, deftly removing plating until only the metal skeleton twined in cables and tubes could be seen.

“Your joints aren’t grinded off too bad…” she trailed off with her verdict, probing and scraping something unseen to me in the heart of the mechanism, “but not from the lack of trying – say thanks to all that old metal,” she finally concluded.

Flower proceed to silently clean the joints, removing grit and grease mixed together in blackish tar-like mass, which she was wiping off on her coat until I reprimanded her. After that, she applied some oil using the can borrowed from the squatters and assembled my limb back before reconnecting it to my body.

“Something’s weird about this place,” Delight suddenly whispered into my ear. After she helped me back to my hooves she continued to stay by my side, assisting me in staying upright.

I knew exactly what was wrong, but the question was how did Del notice it? I spoke with one of the settlers, but she was seeing something, maybe not even related to the bitterness and fatalism ruling the minds of the local dwellers. So I looked around trying to notice something I had missed before.

Makeshift houses, everything old and worn out… lots of nets and other fishing gear… but they lived above the river so it wasn’t so strange. Though eating fish wasn’t common to pony diet, it didn’t strike me as something out of place – there wasn’t much vegetation around, after all. I tried to make out the silhouettes hiding in the shadows and after some time the realization struck me.

“There are no pegasi…” I whispered back.

“No, it’s not that,” Del objected with a frown. “It makes perfect sense, actually…”

“They are working for the Butterflies,” Rainbow Dash said grimly, making me and Del gasp despite the quietness of her words as she took us by surprise. I still couldn’t fathom how she managed to move so silently in her armored suit.

“How do you know?” I asked, listing all I just had seen in my mind and trying to logically connect any of it to the group of terrorists.

“No tech,” Rainbow began, and I instantly reprimanded myself for missing it – there was not a single electronic device in sight, no prosthetics either. “Way too much fishing gear and barrels for such a small settlement,” she continued, “and they somehow manage to survive winters while being within reach of the Everfree.”

“Does that mean we’re trapped, then?” Red Wire joined the conversation with an alarmed voice, her eye wide from concern. Now that she said that, I couldn't help but feel fear rising inside me.

“Negative.” Rainbow shook her head, glaring back at the eyes sparkling from the shadows, making them retract deeper. “They seem to be just left alone in return for food, nothing more to that aside from any technology forbidden, though I doubt they had much of it to begin with.”

Rainbow’s response dispeled our collective worries about our hosts, and the conversation was effectively snuffed out. Wire began to help Flower by passing her my plating and the oil can with her magic, speeding up the process. Trixie appeared to have missed our entire exchange, as she went into some kind of melancholic trance some time ago. All of a sudden she came to life, perking up and looking around, as if woken up by me focusing on her. However, it wasn’t me who got her attention, but Dash.

“Rainbow, ask them about Dodge City,” Trixie mumbled groggily, still affected by her daydreaming, her body and the wagon she was holding shuddering from a mighty yawn.

“It’s most likely gone, I told you,” Rainbow snapped back with unexpected annoyance.

“Asking costs nothing,” came Trixie’s snarky retort.

Dumbfounded, I shifted my gaze between them – I was obviously missing something.

“What’s all that about?” I asked Trixie who was closer to me and now busy glaring daggers at the back of Rainbow’s head. Judging by her strained posture she either was somehow aware of that or expected the conversation to go on.

“Our route goes through Dodge City and we have a bit of a disagreement on its fate,” she explained, her voice bearing the same caustic quality. Now I remembered Rainbow and Trixie arguing when I came back following my tantrum right before the journey.

“It’s gone like any other settlement to the south, the Butterflies took care of that long ago,” Rainbow turned her head back and commented in the same irked and yet tired tone, as if she were exhausted from stating her point over and over.

Now that I thought of it, we indeed had to pass Dodge City, though I had completely forgotten about its existence. It was a very small town, created as a working base for building a vast branch of railroads connecting southern Equestria; however, that plan came to a screeching halt when it became obvious that the Hayseed Swamps were much more of a problem than they seemed at first. Trixie said that all of the major cities in Equestria had been destroyed, but Dodge City certainly wasn’t major. Stuck in the middle of a desert and far away from any other cities, it was heavily reliant on support from the capital – did she think it could actually survive alone?

“Well, what would you call where we are now?” Trixie inquired with flat out sarcasm as she motioned with her hoof around, presenting the entire settlement we were in as proof of Rainbow’s error.

Anger flared in Rainbow’s eyes and she pursed her lips, squinting at Trixie. She then turned away and made a sound, something in between a sigh and growl.

“Hey, old guy,” Rainbow called, addressing the elderly stallion shuffling across the bridge to one of the huts. Though her tone was level, that form of address still sounded rather impolite and disrespectful.

“What do ya want now?” the elder croaked and after spitting on the ground added in a quiet, but still discernible, grouchy voice, “I hope ya ain’t gonna ask to stay fer the night, cos we ain’t have no food fer ya lot – ya seem to have more than enough yerselves.”

Rainbow's face once again become a dispassionate mask of sternness.

“Tell me about the territory south of the bridge,” she ordered, completely ignoring any of his words.

“What,” jeered the old stallion with a scoff, “don’t ya have a fancy map telling ya this?”

Despite the clear taunt in his words, Rainbow’s expression remained unwavering.

“I asked you a question, citizen,” she stated in that clear and slightly menacing commanding tone.

“There ain’t nothing,” the elder barked, with another spit on the bridge.

“What about the city?” Though Rainbow was doing a formidable job maintaining the perfect picture of a cool-headed officer of the law, I could hear impatience growing in her voice.

“What city?” the old stallion asked in a display of obvious faux puzzlement.

“Dodge City,” Rainbow glowled, “Stop playing dumb.”

“Just ruins – a safe passage to the same nothing,” he sneered with another disgusting snort and spit sequence. “The winters ya fucks brought upon us took it many years ago.”

“You are relieved,” Rainbow barked and turned away.

“Oh thank ya so much yer Excellency,” the elder sassed and bent his knees in a mock bow – maybe it was a good thing Dash already wasn’t looking at him.

Judging by the way she clenched her jaw it took all her force of will to ignore the stallion. Flower finished oiling my limbs and other moving parts somewhere in the middle of that conversation and was already working on putting the wheel back on, much to Trixie’s relief. Del and Wire were busy moving saddlebags back into the cart, from where they were temporarily removed to make Trixie’s job as a lifting jack easier. It appeared we weren’t going to spend more time at this bridge than was necessary, and I couldn’t agree more.

With the wheel taking its place and Flower nodding, signifying the carriage’s readiness, Trixie and I began to harness ourselves back into it.

Our leave was abrupt and silent – Rainbow stood up and began to trot towards the other side of the bridge, leaving me and Trixie not much choice but to follow her. By that moment the girls had taken their places in the wagon and were slightly crouching, as if ready to dive behind the protection of the hull at any moment.

As we walked across the bridge, our procession was met by the hidden yet acutely perceptible glares of the squatters, and we were followed by the gate guards, though they kept quite a distance between us.

The gates, just as decrepit as on the other side, were already thrown open, waiting for us. We passed them and I turned to look back.

My eyes went wide as I saw most likely the entire population standing on the bridge – a mass of dirty and ragged ponies, all without exception glowering at us. And the elder stallion was above them, sitting on the gateway and smirking.

We continued to pace across the plains, the carriage bouncing behind me. Its lamentable creaking and the staccato of my and Trixie’s hooves against the dry earth were the only sounds permeating my hearing. The atmosphere was strained and somber – the impression left by the grim settlement was still fresh on everypony’s minds. Delight even abstained from flying; with her ears pressed to her skull, she was sitting along with the fillies in the cart. I was sure we were far enough from the bridge, but I could still feel their judging glares on my back.

In retrospect it was making sense – I had witnessed just another flavor of madness, ponies broken by this world. I didn’t want to linger on that thought, however. Not only did I find it unpleasant, I also couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something.

As before, there wasn’t much I had to think about, and what I had to weren’t the nicest thoughts either. Once again I went into a trance-like state, where I paid attention only to the ground.

It was hard to say how much time passed, but eventually I began to realize that my shadow had grown in its length considerably and it had also become harder to discern where I was putting my hooves. The veil of the night was slowly approaching from the east horizon.

On one hoof we could continue to travel at night – neither I nor Trixie could tire. On another hoof moonlight most likely wouldn’t be enough – even with the landscape gradually becoming that of the arid southern lands, it was still treacherous if not paid attention. Not to mention that the wagon began to shake more violently as the soil became rocky, making it impossible for our passengers to catch any sleep.

I glanced at Trixie and it appeared she had already been awaiting some decision from me – she readily nodded and we began to slow down, looking for a place to settle. Unfortunately, it seemed we would have to stop right in the middle of an open field with nothing to serve as a cover, and that also meant that there would be no timber to make a fire. With no clouds to keep warmth between them and the ground, the heat given to the earth by the sun was quickly vanishing. As I turned to the girls, I saw their breath come from their mouths in little clouds as the fillies huddled together under Delight's generously offered wings.

With a soft ‘thump’ Rainbow Dash landed beside me, just as wordless as the others. We gave each other a brief look and she silently headed towards her saddlebags, to my, and more importantly the girls’, joy producing a small lamp. It wasn’t as much the promise of light, but the heat which it would emanate during the night which mattered.

Our small company gathered around the weak source of light. The fillies scuttled very close to the gleaming motes dancing inside the glass tube. To make the magical lantern last more than one night, it wasn’t working at full power, producing no more light than a candle, though heating the air much more noticeably. Delight kept a little farther back to allow Flower and Wire more access to the heating device, though judging by the way her feathers were fluffed, the night cold was slowly getting even to her.

As for Trixie, Rainbow and me, we were like sentinels, sitting outside the circle of light. The metal of our unmoving bodies reflected light and shadows as the girls despondently munched on the rations. Now that I could take a look at that food, I understood why it brought no joy to their faces. Discolored dry waffles, paste of a greyish color reminding me of plaster and what I supposed was pressured ‘synth-hay’. The only merit these rations seemed to possess was their ability to fill the stomach for a while and make a pony lose any appetite. And they were probably very cheap to produce.

The nature of the food and the weariness of the journey kept the meal from lasting long, and very soon the girls began to settle in for the night, using the emptied saddlebags as mattresses.

After a short and hushed discussion, it was decided that I would hold watch this night. Rainbow and Trixie spent the previous one awake and needed rest, especially Rainbow. Her suit empowered her immensely, but I doubted it could absolve her body from the common plight of flesh, fatigue – unlike me and Trixie, she was still a living pony under all that metal. I, myself, could stand a couple of nights without sleep, and it would hardly take a noticeable toll on my consciousness. There wasn’t much argument from Rainbow or Trixie on that matter; the latter was openly dozing off at any available occasion, and Rainbow had noticeable bags under her eyes, not to mention the sluggishness of her movements.

The night took full reign over the land, any traces of the sun drowned in the void between the stars. However, it wasn’t pitch black, nor was I alone on my watch – the moon, unhindered by clouds, bathed Equestria in its soft silver glow. I wondered what Princess Luna would think when she found that the Swarm had controlled her celestial body for centuries. How furious she would be. How fast she would kill them.

I was speculating again. It wasn’t a nice thought to admit, but this entire mission was nothing except a shot in the dark and quite literally in one sense. Instead of imagining the ways it could go wrong with Princess Luna, I focused on what I had on my hooves – two ponies from the same time as me, though they barely held any resemblance to those I remembered.

What culled Trixie’s ego? She was part of the Coven, in theory a place where she could fulfill her ambitions. But something had happened, something that was connected to her becoming cursed and losing her body. She didn’t seem to be eager to talk about that, however. I could feel she wasn’t lying to me, the things she told me were making sense, and I was sure that Rainbow – or anypony else who knew about them – could confirm her words. Only, there were things Trixie wasn’t telling me. A lie by omission is still a lie. Knowing all about her life would not only be interesting but also spill light on events not many ponies knew and even fewer could speak about.

But in the end only one question mattered. Why was Trixie doing this? Who was she?

A pony who was owning her misdeeds and seeking redemption?

Or a dark mage, who had yet to reach that dream of hers – to become great and powerful?

I watched her silhouette, a statue of arcanium, absolutely still, even her everflowing face, and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to answer that question until it answered itself. I could only hope.

My gaze drifted to Rainbow Dash along with my thoughts. She was resting in the cart’s hull with her helmet-clad head on her hooves. The glass of the visor was lazily blinking with indicators and lines of text too small to discern. That suit cut her off from the world, saved her even from the inevitability of time, but it couldn’t prevent her from changing. And while I had my doubts about Trixie’s motives, I did enjoy the change in her personality. In Rainbow’s case the aggravating quirks were erased by time as well, but I had a great trouble liking her new behaviour – or even recognizing her.

When we met the night before, she was friendly and almost the same Rainbow Dash I remembered, but since our journey began she had started to become more distant and heartless. I only hoped that it was the pressure of the task affecting her and it wasn’t just how she actually was now.

Trixie was a vigilante from what I could tell, but her part was a bit easier – she answered only to herself, she could always choose who to fight. From the sound of it, her choices were pretty much obvious – other dark mages, ancient eldritch spawns of magic unearthed by the excessive curiosity of ponykind…

Rainbow had no such privilege. Her enemy was the city itself, the flaws of ponies.

The Great War had already changed her, blood and fire reforged her into a soldier – a stalwart grim survivor of the Crystal Empire, returning to battlefields time after time to challenge death for the sake of her country. And after she had not just woken up, but been resurrected, much like me, the metamorphosis was complete. It didn’t happen overnight, of course. But I had seen Canterlot, how low had it fallen. Even a decade would be enough to rip out any mercy from even the kindest of hearts.

The Rainbow I witnessed for the last two days scared me with her coldness. But more than fear, I felt pity towards her.

She was a soldier no more. A soldier was somepony who would leave their home to protect it. For her there was no home anymore – only war, and it had no end. War and home merged together into something horrible without name and became her world. And yet I struggled to say what she was now. An angel of blind justice? An embodiment of the law? And what law? The changeling law?

There was only one pony who ever had more righteousness, loyalty and responsibility. We both saw how she was murdered with our own eyes. And now Rainbow was serving the murderer.

Much like with Trixie, there was one question which held importance above all.

How much of Rainbow Dash was left inside that suit of armor?

The moon wasn’t my only companion this silent night. Hundreds of stars shone brilliantly from the darkness, no longer hindered by the blinding light of the never-sleeping Canterlot. It didn’t take me long to notice the subtle changes in the constellations brought by the centuries-long absence of their mistress. However, it wasn’t the unkempt firmament which was making me bitter, but my memories of how I used to stargaze. It was something I had done a lot, and yet it felt appropriate no more, as if it all took place in another life which was mine no longer. Of course, my life belonged to me right now, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t the same life as I thought. So, tortured by melancholy, I spent the rest of the night futilely trying to understand why the twinkling stars failed to pluck my heartstrings.

Rainbow was the first to wake up. She yawned widely, fogging up her visor, and stretched like a cat, making the plates of her armor softly clink. That sound yanked Trixie from the depths of her slumber – with a mechanical jerk she came to life, her liquid face becoming a surreal mass only loosely resembling a muzzle as she couldn’t decide what expression she wanted to show. She settled on the slightly discontent grimace of somepony who didn’t enjoy mornings and desperately needed a cup of coffee.

The clop of metal hooves against stones disturbed the girls’ sleep. They stirred, blinking profusely. Tin Flower wriggled, massaging her back, stiff from sleeping against the lamp, while Red Wire was rubbing her healthy eye. Del’s wing, which the filly used as a blanket, was still draped across her shoulders. Delight herself was the only one yet to stir – she was prostrate on the folded saddlebag, but she had her eyes closed, though the occasional flicks of her ears were signifying that she was already awake, just too lazy to get up.

Rainbow Dash gave them three ration packs and bottles of water from their pile of supplies, and, after some thought, added a can of preserved carrots to the miserable breakfast – it instantly brought smiles to the girls’ faces.

While they were enjoying their meal, spicing the tasteless rations with soggy carrots (it wasn’t much of a treat by itself, but compared to the rations…), I put the rest of the rations back into the bags. Rainbow was beside me, fighting with her own saddlebag, trying to fit the lantern into it with her hooves. And Trixie was already putting herself into the harness in a very unhurried fashion.

The night of rest and an unexpected but still welcome addition to the breakfast lifted spirits quite noticeably. I even heard another of Tin Flower’s horrible and not-so-subtle, yet lighthearted jokes aimed at Delight’s previous occupation and its connection with carrots.

It wasn’t long before the emptied boxes left from the rations found their place in the corner of the carriage and the girls climbed in alongside them, including Delight. Yesterday’s flying session was much more prolonged than she had had in a while, resulting in soreness in her wings. That statement earned a scoff from Rainbow Dash when she heard it, though she abstained from giving any comment and I suspected she wasn’t actually displeased with Del, she was just being her ‘old’ self.

Anyhow, with the girls in the cart ready and chatting quietly, I hurried to fasten myself and continue our journey. We still had a lot of distance to cover and our supplies weren’t limitless, not to mention we also didn’t really have that much time to spare – Canterlot wasn’t going to wait for us on its own journey to Tartarus.

The only two differences from the previous day (not taking into account the generally improved mood) were in the ground and the sky. As I already noted yesterday, the soil had become more rocky – the irrigation provided by the Black River was gone as we ventured far enough from its banks, and without any other sources of water nearby, the dry merciless winds coming from the south were desiccating the ground, carrying any humidity into the empty skies. However, it was the firmament which was different from that of yesterday and also contradicting my knowledge of those lands – it was filled with clouds now. They weren’t cumulus clouds, carrying the promise of rain with them, just a thin layer of half-hearted disordered vapor barely hiding the sun and the bright blueness. It was most likely the remains of a thunderstorm that had strayed over the Everfree, where they gained a will of their own.

One more difference, though hardly major, was that now we were corrected on our path by Rainbow Dash much more often. She was making brief flights ahead, low to the ground, to determine if the path wasn’t too rocky and slightly changing our course if needed. It wasn’t as much about comfort as to be lenient to the old cart and our hooves – both would suffer greatly from prolonged pacing across patches of gravel, not to mention that we would be slowed down as well.

It was when Rainbow was returning from one of her scouting trips that I noticed something was wrong. She was moving much faster than before and the trademark resounding roar of her main turbine could now be heard. As she came closer I saw that the visor of her helmet was obscured with the metal plates. It didn't take me long to realize what it meant: she was ready for combat. Panic flashed through my mind – she was going straight for the wagon, guns on her shoulders coming to life, extending and beginning to glow. I knew I was wrong, I hated myself for thinking it, but I couldn’t stop myself from repeating one sentence in my mind over and over – “She’s after me.”

I couldn’t say why exactly I moved and where I tried to go – it was something between an attempt to turn back and at the same time to leap from Rainbow’s path. As my head and torso were rotating, making the steel of the harness cry in protest, and yanking on Trixie, waking her up from a trance of her own, the sane part of my mind finally understood one thing: there must have been something right behind us. As much as it was possible against the momentum I had already gained, I turned my head back to see what or who Rainbow was about to attack.

But all I saw was a bright flash of light instantly followed by a cacophony of explosions and the girls’ cries.

The blast didn’t hit the cart directly, however it was close enough to send its rear up into the air, pelting the exposed bottom with shrapnel of rock shards torn from the ground. As if in slow motion I watched as the bent hull went higher and higher – the wagon was about to overturn. The girls yelped in terror, trying to hold onto the saddlebags until Delight grabbed them – Tin Flower in her hooves and Wire by the scruff with her teeth – and bolted away from the to-be-wreckage, frantically flapping her wings above my head under the strain of the fillies’ weight. I tried to follow them with my gaze, but I found my body moving on its own – I was still connected to the thill and it was about to slam me into the ground where I would be buried under the heavy metal carcass.

In a momentary panic I blasted the metal pole with all my magical power, since there was absolutely no time to unfasten myself properly. I could only guess how Trixie was dealing with that problem – she was right behind my shoulder, but I couldn’t see her.

I was only partially successful in my goal – I was no longer steadfastly bound to the thill, but I still had some reins loosely connected to it. And it was those which sent me sailing through the air when the metal of the thill twisted and jerked up under the sheer mass of the crashing cart.

Luckily, my forced flight was brief and I wasn’t sent too far or too high. With a loud thud I landed on the hard ground, rolling a couple of times before I stopped, ending up in a tangle of limbs. I had to spend a few seconds regaining my bearings – even though I felt no pain and my head wasn’t spinning, I was still disoriented and had to check if all my legs could move.

I rose to my hooves unsteadily and whipped my head around, trying to find out the fate of my friends. However, assessing the damage was the first thing I could do – the cart was nothing but a heap of scrap metal, our supplies strewn all over the stone around it as they spilled from the saddlebags. Behind the bent and irreparably damaged wagon, the crater blasted into the earth smoldered, a pillar of acrid thick black smoke rising from it.

I gasped in shock. Only now did I notice the gleaming remains half-buried under the twisted hull. Trixie’s body was still bound to the thill and wasn’t moving. The metal from her face slowly dripped onto the cracked ground from a metal pole piercing her skull right between the sparkling eyes bleeding oil.

I took a step toward her body, a muffled sob escaping the speaker in my throat, but before I could begin to break down I noticed movement through the plumes of smoke. It wasn’t the oil bleeding from Trixie’s eyes, but an oily pitch black darkness. It began to coalesce into a coiling shadow darker than the fumes, and a moment later it was soaring across the sky towards where silhouettes flared under the clouds, gunshots filling the air with distant cracks of thunder. Two winged creatures – likely griffins – and Rainbow Dash circled each other, her pelting them with fire. But I couldn’t pay that fight attention right now. I was incredibly happy with the fact that Trixie did survive, more than I imagined I would be. She simply left her body like she had done before. In retrospect, it wasn’t the first one she had lost from her own words, so it was unlikely she could be killed that easily.

However, I was yet to see the girls – I didn’t fear for Rainbow Dash. If the armor she wore was true to my design, even ten times the number of griffons here wouldn’t be a threat to her. As I cast my gaze away from the crash site and to the direction where we were heading, I saw them – Delight driving the fillies towards the nearest hill which could serve as cover. While Wire was galloping to it ahead of her two friends, looking back and encouraging them, Del and Flower lingered behind, due to the latter trying to fight (rather successfully, judging by Del’s pained screams) her way back to the wagon – to me, I realized.

I quickly glanced at the sky one more time – even a few seconds was enough to see that it wasn’t as much a fight happening there but Rainbow chasing the griffins who desperately tried to flee, weakly and futilely lunging at her from time to time. With Trixie closing on them, the battle wouldn’t last long. I had no reason to stay where I was, nor could I help my friends under the clouds (not that they needed my assistance anyway), but if I didn’t want to leave Delight covered in bruises, I had better head to her and the fillies, so Tin Flower’s worry for me would be placated.

As I galloped towards Flower, she finally broke from Delight’s hooves, leaving her clutching her muzzle with a grimace, and ran to meet me. She all but slammed into me, embracing me with her hooves, accidentally hitting my side with her metal leg so hard that my body rang from the impact.

“I thought.. y-you died in there!” she squeezed through her sobs, still pressing herself to my chest.

“I told you she didn’t!” yelled Delight in a nasally voice, who reached me thanks to her wings only a few moments later. She was still clutching her nose, drops of blood falling to the ground from it – on purpose or not, Flower’s metal hoof had found its mark. Though Del didn’t look mad, only concerned and a bit annoyed.

I hugged the crying filly back and turned my head to look at the battle. And just in time – Trixie’s shadowy form finally reached one of the griffins, and in an eldritch display of her power the half-eagle half-lion simply dissolved into dust, which was carried away by the wind in the next second. A few moments later Rainbow’s guns fired for the final time, making me and especially Delight cringe – it tore off one of the remaining griffin’s wings. However, Rainbow didn’t leave the body to fall, she hooked it under the neck and to my horror headed right towards us at a high velocity.

Before I could decide anything, Rainbow sailed over us, and mere moments later the mangled corpse fell from the sky a few paces away. It rolled and tumbled with clearly audible cracks of breaking bones and squelches, smearing blood everywhere and raising clouds of dust until it finally stopped. As I avoided directly looking at it, I saw Delight shrinking back and heaving, trying to keep the contents of her stomach inside. Wire and Flower simply turned away from the sight with grimaces.

With the roar of the turbine winding down, Rainbow soared above our heads, making a couple of circles to slow her speed. She landed near the griffin’s body and I had no choice but to look at it.

I still had no idea how exactly Rainbow’s guns worked, but regardless of their principle they were powerful and extremely deadly. The corpse bore the mark of a single shot, and yet it was enough to disfigure half of the body even before it hit the ground. The projectile came from the side, grazing the griffin’s skull and eventually penetrating the abdomen, leaving a long burned streak in the fur and a charred hole with viscera hanging from it. And it smote off the wing – with a shudder I realized it still faintly smoked. The fall from the sky was the final assault on the griffin’s remains, leaving them a heap of blooded feathers, broken bones and charred flesh; I couldn’t even tell if it was male or female.

Unlike us, Rainbow wasn’t recoiling from the sight – I could see her face absolutely dispassionate through the visor. Her indifference towards the bloodied carcass went even further, as without hesitation she approached it and began to roll it over and tear at it in a gruesome examination. Her search didn’t last long, and she stepped back holding two objects. One I instantly recognized as a metal breastplate, once polished but now covered in grime and bent all over. The other looked like a long narrow plank wrapped in strips of cloth. She held it a strange way and I realized what was happening only when I caught it mid-flight as it was tossed towards me.

I brought the mysterious item closer with my magic and saw that I was holding a scabbard before my eyes. I glanced at Rainbow, wondering why she would give it to me, but she was too busy fumbling with the armor piece which she was studying closely. I looked at the sheath once again. Perplexed, I pulled on the handle and witnessed myself in the perfectly polished sword. I rotated the blade along with the scabbard – I didn’t want to pull it entirely – and saw reflections of Del and Wire behind my back, frowning with the same confusion I felt. Flower had calmed down and was squinting at the weapon from under my chin. I noted that the edge was razor-sharp. It was apparent even by the meager amount of steel visible that it wasn’t much of a sword, but more of a dagger – the blade was considerably narrower than its sheath. My gaze slid towards it again and I realized why Rainbow gave it to me – the weapon didn’t belong to the scabbard and I doubted there was any left that would. An emblem depicting two alicorns, one made of gold and the other of silver (though both quite tarnished even after the obvious attempts to polish it) adorned it – a sign of the ancient era when ‘...there were two regal sisters who ruled together and created harmony for all the land...’. There was only one place in Equestria where such relics could be found, and that meant only one thing…

“It was the Pink Butterflies…” I mumbled, stunned by the revelation (though it wasn’t really a very shocking fact when I thought about it).

Rainbow didn’t reply verbally to my guess, but then our eyes met and it became obvious that I was right and she wasn’t happy about it. She turned the dead griffin’s breastplate to me so I could see three butterflies scratched on it and crudely painted with pink – a cruel mockery of Fluttershy’s cutie mark which made me scowl.

“Those fucking squatters must have ratted us out!” yelled Wire a couple of seconds later – commendable thinking on her side. I would have chosen different words, but I could understand her anger very well. It was a miracle nopony ended up hurt. Well… except for Trixie’s body. Remembering her, I turned my head back and saw her shadowy form at the wreckage, quivering on the wind as she sat silently, watching the crater spew plumes of smoke into the sky. I felt an urge to approach and comfort her – I could see she was obviously distraught, with her shoulders and head hanging low – but the conversation I was in had yet to end, it seemed.

“Negative,” Rainbow dryly stated with her eyes still locked on the chestpiece.

“How do you know?” I inquired, aiming to beat Wire to the punch – the filly puffed out her cheeks, the fire in her eye betraying her intent to say what she thought about the settlers in the most colorful of expressions.

At last Rainbow left the corpse and hobbled towards us – the armor was still in her hoof, pressed to her chest.

“Even over the Everfree, the only place where they have any tactical advantage over us, two against one Royal Guard have as much chance as a fart in a windstorm.” She sat and motioned with her free front leg to the sky in a wide arc. “Here – it’s suicide.”

Rainbow paused and gave each of us a glance, but no pony interrupted, allowing her to continue with her explanation.

“My guess is that we were spotted by a random patrol of two rookies who didn’t know better than to attack without assessing the situation first.” She scrunched her nose and continued, “Though, now that I think of it, that fossil at the bridge could have dispatched them after us. Though it seems like he accidentally forgot to tell them about a Royal Guard, effectively sending these trainees to a sure death.”

A heavy silence hung over our company. Neither option was good news, though it was mostly the fact we began with that was most troubling. We weren’t dealing with some random griffin attackers – they had a whole organization behind them.

“What should we do now?” Delight asked in a worried voice, glancing at the corpse and wincing. I briefly wondered if we should bury the remains.

“Nothing different from what we were doing.” Rainbow shrugged and it a swift motion put the breastplate she was holding vertically between her hoof and the ground. “This smoke is too far from the Everfree” -I glanced at the barely discernible dark stripe on the south-west horizon- “to be noticed, and even if it is, we have a couple of hours to clear the combat area.”

“But the Butterfucks will notice them missing, won’t they?” Wire observed as sharp as before, pointing at the griffin’s body.

“Eventually.” Rainbow nodded in apparent approval of the filly’s quick thinking. “We will be too far away by that point.”

I began to open my mouth because that implied one very important question: what were we supposed to do on our way back? But I had no chance to voice it.

“Alright, gather that we have left and proceed with our task – we are burning daylight,” Rainbow barked in a bit too commanding a voice. All the time she spoke she was looking me straight in the eyes with a hard impression – she knew what I wanted to ask and she didn’t want me to, though I could only guess her reasoning. Most probably, with how uncertain and varying the possible results of our expedition could be, she didn’t want to worry about that matter herself and make others worry until we faced it. And, honestly, I couldn’t disagree with her on that.

Grumbling, the girls began to walk toward the crash site while Rainbow lingered behind, still studying the chest piece, contradicting her own words.

“Rainbow, are you coming?” I called to her, taking a step closer – I was starting to become very curious about that armor as well, Rainbow was paying an unusual amount of attention to it.

“Take a look at this.” She extended her leg with the metal piece towards me and I took it in my magic. “See something wrong?”

I twirled it my magic. That breastplate was a single piece of metal with buckles for leather belts to secure it in place. It was dirty, marred with a mix of blood, rock dust and soot. In the middle it was somewhat clear, where Rainbow cleared a patch to reveal the emblem. Aside from the three butterflies there wasn’t anything else notable I could tell about it. Well, it was bent and scratched on top of being grimy, but that was it.

“No?” I half-said, half-asked, continuing to rotate the metal in my magic in the case I was missing something.

Rainbow started to walk towards the wreckage and motioned with her head to follow. I tarried for a moment, deciding if I should take the armor or leave it.

After a few seconds I caught up with Dash, the metal piece levitating by my side.

“It’s manufactured, not smithed,” she finally stated.

Unfortunately, that fact changed nothing to me.

“So..?” I asked slowly, rising my brow.

“No shit is manufactured in the Everfree,” Rainbow grumbled as if it was something that should be obvious, giving me a sidelong glance.

It took me a few moments to realize what it meant – that armor was made in Canterlot!

“But who would supply them? And isn’t that against their views?” Those were only a few of the many questions starting to rise in my mind, one after another.

“Apparently it isn’t,” she began with an answer for the second question. “There are breadcrumbs all over the city, but that scheme runs too deep, even for Chrysalis’ best spies. We don’t know who, only that somepony supports the Butterflies.” She scoffed, “Or they wouldn’t have survived that winter.”

When we approached the broken cart, the girls were already gathering the rations strewn around into a distressingly small pile, my only hope that its size was due to them beginning the process not so long ago. Though our provisions were a very important matter, there was one thing that bothered me much more right now.

I slowly walked to Trixie, and for the first time I was able to witness her up close in her ‘true’ form.

She was so small. I couldn’t tell if it was because I had already gotten used to her towering above me, almost as tall as an alicorn, or because of her peculiar appearance. Her body was a little bit of translucent coiling darkness, the inky wisps perpetually evaporating from her evershifting coat. Constant quivering was the defining feature of her look, as if she was a leaf in the wind – always slightly shaking, but never falling off the branch of reality. As I squinted (a useless motion, but the habit was stronger than my memory), I could swear I saw her body had two outlines.

Trixie turned her head to me and our eyes locked. Hers were just circles glowing with soft white amidst the blackness with no pupils or eyelids. It was making her look as surprised as I was.

She held my gaze for a long time, making me wonder what was she thinking. And to be honest, I didn’t know what to think myself. What to feel.

I was looking at… something – neither a ghost, nor a pony. And yet I knew Trixie, at least I hoped I did. She was my friend right now as much as she was when she ‘wore’ her body – the only difference was in appearance. But as I was looking at the inky apparition, only two urges were competing in my mind: attack it or flee. All I could see right before my eyes was a pure manifestation of dark magic, something that had always threatened me and those whom I loved – I couldn’t allow any harm to fall upon those dear to me. However, it had been so long since I won that fight for the last time.

I felt bad. I felt bad because I couldn’t help but feel that way about my friend. I felt bad for Trixie, because it was unjust – for all I understood it wasn't her goal, no matter what intentions brought her to that hard choice. I felt bad because I knew she could see that on my face.

I could barely read Trixie's expression, but her sorrow was apparent enough. There was also a mix of disappointment and understanding, but I couldn't tell for sure, so ambiguous were her shadowy facial features and eerie eyes.

I braced myself, for I would not do what my mind screamed at me, but what was right.

By the time I came close to Trixie she had returned to gazing forlornly at her body half-buried in the wreckage. I waited for a few moments for her to say something, but as the silence started to become awkward, I realized it was up to me to speak.

“Can it be fixed?” I asked looking at the metal skull, now completely without its liquid ‘skin’, gazing blindly at the sky with its charred eyes.

She didn't answer me, but after a few seconds I saw a movement, though I couldn't tell what exactly was moving. I glanced around, confused, and finally I realized – it was the shadows! Every nearby object casting a shade lost them, gaining a weird look of an incorrectly painted picture – without shadows everything around us lost its third dimension, at least in appearance.

That darkness coalescenced into black stripes slithering like snakes on the ground until they reached Trixie's body, winding around its limbs. I noted how the metal cart tarnished where the shadow ribbons touched it, turning into flakes when they lingered longer. It was then I understood why Trixie's body was made of arcanium – not as her caprice and certainly not for protection, but to simply allow her to interact with the world. And it was also an explanation as to why Trixie couldn’t use telekinesis. The only time I witnessed it was when she took that horrid book made of leather, and that made me realize I probably was lucky not to open or touch it.

Embraced by the inky tendrils, Trixie's body started to slowly slide from under the hull. Whenever it caught some protrusion, Trixie willed a shadow to dissolve the impediment into fine dust.

A minute later the lifeless body hung before Trixie like a marionette on black strings. She raised its head by the chin and with the help of one of the stolen and enslaved shadows she unmade the pole which pierced the skull into dark powder. Before it could be carried away by the wind, a trickle of oil rained upon the heap, scattering it on the ground.

I noted that her tattered cloak actually looked no worse for wear as it flapped in the breeze. Despite Trixie’s frame being singed and bent (which was no small thing, considering it was made of arcanium) the ancient piece of cloth attached to it remained the same - dirty and ragged. Obviously it was enchanted and possibly inlaid with arcanium thread.

“Not here,” Trixie quietly said, startling and confusing me – I didn't realize immediately that she was answering the question I had almost forgotten.

At least her voice remained the same, still strangely echoing.

“We can't leave it here either,” Rainbow voice came from behind me, nearly making me jump. Her habit of sneaking up on me was becoming quite aggravating. “I don't want the Butterflies to get their hooves on that much arcanium or any of it for that matter”, she explained, completely ignoring my glare.

“Do you want us to take it with us then?” I asked incredulously, raising my eyebrow. Even with enchantments reducing Trixie’s body weight it was still quite voluminous, meaning that carrying it would leave no room for anything else. Considering that Trixie couldn’t carry saddlebags anymore, that would be two metal backs worth of provision out of commission – and that was a lot.

“Negative, I’m calling the Command Center to pick it up.” With those words she began to tinker with the panel on her front leg.

The frustration which I fought back at the Junkyard, right before this journey began, returned with the new force.

“Strange,” I hissed, coming closer to Rainbow, stopping her from that she was doing, “that you can ask them to lug a heavy metal corpse all the way back to Canterlot, but for some reason we have to trudge across half of Equestria on hoof risking our lives.”

Looming over me, Rainbow met my glare with a level stare, continuing to impassively look me in the eyes for no less than half a minute until she spoke again, her voice stern and even scolding.

“No more than a dozen trusted ponies know the truth about the Crown, but that doesn’t mean that half of Canterlot isn’t onto us.” She leaned to me so her visor was almost touching my muzzle. Instinctively I tried to lean back, but my body lacked the agility to do that. Dash continued, each word hard and merciless, “The last thing the city needs to know right now is that a half-insect queen and her swarm, who virtually rule Equestria, are trying to bring back one of the Princesses, who didn’t actually die, with the help of two ex-Bearers.” If I could I would have gulped – not because of how intimidating Rainbow Dash was, but because I had never really thought of how thousands upon thousands of ponies would react to any part of those facts. “We are too deep in shit already for mass hysteria,” she concluded and turned away from me. I could say that she was trying very hard not to look utterly disappointed with me.

After Rainbow took a few steps towards the girls, she stopped and turned her head to me and threw over her shoulder, not bothering to hold the disdain this time, “And you know what goes on the list before that?” Her face became distorted with a snarl. “Arcanium bombs.”

I kept company with Trixie for about a minute while trying to decide what I should feel: anger at Dash for trying to intimidate me or embarrassment at her being ultimately right. In the end I settled on both, which resulted in them cancelling each other out – I shouldn’t be angry because she was right and I shouldn’t be embarrassed because she could have been more friendly and understanding. It wasn’t the most solid logic, but I didn’t have that much time to contemplate on such matters – we had to leave this place as soon as possible.

After a momentary thought, I left the griffin’s breastplate, which I hadn’t realized I was still holding, behind near Trixie’s body. The Crown might want to take a look at it, though it felt very bizarre that I was actually helping them.

With the solemn and silent Trixie following me, I trotted to the pile of rations which were still intact. It wasn’t as bad as I thought, actually. From what I could see, we hadn’t lost even a fifth of it to the attack. There was, however, the question of if we could take it all with us.

Rainbow and Del were already packing them and the bottles with water into saddlebags. It seemed, however, that the preserved vegetables would be left behind, which was a real shame. Wire and Flower, well… they were outright staring at Trixie. With awe and distrust, respectively and unsurprisingly. Del was giving her wary looks as well.

Five more minutes later we were all trotting away from the almost no longer smoking wreckage in a small procession led by me. Trixie and Rainbow were at the tail of it; the former volunteered because of the visible discomfort of the girls and the latter was watching the northern horizon since she was now grounded by the bags.

After about an hour, tired of constantly looking back to make sure I didn't outpace the short-legged fillies, I let them in front of me. As another hour passed, we gradually broke the formation, the strict line we were trying to keep dissolving into pairs walking in a vague resemblance of a group.

With enough time passed since the incident and the scenery being as boring as ever, quiet talking began to take place, gradually becoming lively conversations. I tried to tune into the one Flower and Delight were having, but it proved an impossible task – they were jumping from one topic to another, heavily relying on slang, making me sometimes fail to grasp even a little sense.

I glanced at Trixie and Wire, but decided to check on Rainbow first. She wasn’t a mare to hold a grudge for long, least of all towards me – we had argued a lot in the past, especially after the Great War began, but it never affected our friendship in the end.

Unfortunately, the only communication I got from Rainbow was the silent look she gave me – apologetic yet still stern, but in another way than before, and a slow shaking of her head. She was implying that while she might have wanted to chat a bit, her duty as a pony watching our backs wasn’t to be distracted from.

A bit distraught I returned to Trixie and Red Wire – the filly was absolutely undaunted by my friend’s appearance, and she even looked more at ease than before. Their voices, the echoing of Trixie and Wire’s silver rang above the hushed conversation of Flower and Del. I had a suspicion it could be so quiet because it was revolving around Delight’s previous job, but I was sure I wouldn’t be able to catch them on that if I wanted.

Anyhow, curious where a Former One and a filly had found common ground, I approached them and began to listen.

It was mostly Red Wire who talked, asking Trixie about her body – I learned that Trixie didn’t use it in the way equinoids did, she was rather possessing it, as if wearing it like a suit of armor in some sense. Gradually the conversation began to shift to the enchantments the armor held and then other vaguely magic related topics, making me tense up. I was pretty sure Trixie was aware of me listening to them – more than once I felt her glowing eyes on me before she gave a reluctant and clumsily ambiguous answer.

There was a slight pause in Red Wire’s fruitless barrage of questions and then she asked her one more, carefully and unexpectedly shyly.

“Um... Miss Lulamoon?”

“Yes, Red Wire?” I again sensed Trixie’s gaze on me, somehow we both knew what that filly was about to ask next. I could guess it from where the conversation was going and wasn’t liking it.

“Could you teach me your magic?” Wire asked in an even more timid voice, sounding very hopeful, almost wistful.

“Absolutely not!” I barely let her finish – it was exactly what I was expecting her to ask. Still, I was very disappointed.

However, I forgot who I was talking to.

“I didn’t ask you, Twilight!” Wire snapped at me with the most venom in her voice I had ever heard from her. “You are not my mom, you don’t get to tell me what to do!”

Though she didn’t use any strong language, her insolent tone and the baleful glare from her natural eye generously compensated for that. For a single moment I thought of letting that go, but then I felt anger well inside of me – it wasn’t only about her pursuit of that vile knowledge. The way Red Wire acted towards others was unacceptable, but first I had to finish that business with Trixie’s potential tutelage.

“I’m not going to allow you to learn dark magic!” I barked at her a bit harsher than I intended.

“And why the fuck not?!” Wire yelled back at me, bristling.

From the overwhelming bitterness I was feeling – this filly just couldn’t understand – I barely noticed how Del and Flower’s conversation died out and in the corner of my eye Rainbow was coming closer.

“It will turn you into a monster!” I said loudly, stopping myself in front of her and stomping my hoof, preparing for another tirade from that toxic filly. I wasn’t going to give up.

Unexpectedly Trixie stepped between us and looked me right into the eyes, though I again had great trouble discerning her expression.

“Erm, Twilight, I hate to tell you this,” she calmly began, “but if this filly is inclined to learn such magical practices she most likely will do it anyway – I’m not the only one in Canterlot who can pass her that knowledge, though you would prefer me to do it.”

I opened my mouth to protest – she wasn’t helping the issue at all by telling Wire there were others who could teach her, but Trixie spoke again.

“And, secondly – how many dark mages have you faced in your life who were actually monsters?” I frowned – she didn’t need to remind me of that. All of them.

“We are on a journey to save Princess Luna who isn’t famous for keeping to conventional magic – is she a monster?”

I tried to speak again, but Trixie raised her voice, preventing me.

”Queen Chrysalis keeps Canterlot from its fall and while you could surely call King Sombra not the nicest pony who ever lived, tell me…” -she slightly tilted her head- “Am I a monster to you too?”

I was stunned by that question. She wasn’t… or was she? The memory of my mind demanding me to either blast her or grab the fillies and run away was still fresh. And the fact that she was part of the Coven once, and how she was hiding truths, and her voice…

Too late I realized that I had already given my answer – by not giving it.

I could see clearly her expression now. She was hurt.

“I… you… it’s not about that!” I futilely tried to amend the situation, but Trixie was already turning and walking away from me.

As I was met with Wire glowering at me, I grasped at straws looking for an opportunity to change the flow of conversation and save my face, not to mention that it was why it all took place – to prevent Wire from doing something that not only she would regret, but also many others.

“Wire, you already act so mean, and to your friend, no less!” I pointed at Tin Flower. To my surprise I didn’t see any support in her, she just looked… sad? I went on, “Dark magic will only make it worse, amplifying that like what it did to Nightmare Moon.”

“Twilight…” Tin Flower softly said, reaching out to me with her hoof.

“Well, I… I…” Wire suddenly began to stammer, a single tear glistening in the corner of her eye. “I’d like you to look at yourself, Miss I-am-a-good-pony after you lose so many ponies you love!” she spat in my face.

I felt my proverbial blood freeze in my just as proverbial veins. Dark fury washed over me.

I slowly lowered my head, almost pressing my muzzle to Wire’s. She cowered before me, tears openly streaming from her eye now – I couldn't tell if it was from fear or something else... I didn’t care.

“You know nothing about loss, Geode.” I said clearly in an icy and deliberate tone, turned on my heels and stormed away.

As I was stomping from her my outburst of rage began to rapidly wind down as I heard Red Wire sobs ring through the air. I didn’t mean to do that… I just wanted to protect her. But… Trixie’s words start to sink in – what if I was wrong? With the sole exception of King Sombra, anypony who I knew used dark magic at some point wasn’t pure evil manifested. More often it was their circumstances, rather than their choice of magic, making those mages look like bad ponies.

I didn’t agree with Trixie’s every word, but I wasn’t right either and even less right to go on Wire so hard. The anger I felt abated completely and the only thing I was feeling now was deep shame.

I didn’t go that far away and despite my back being turned to the company of my friends I could hear their voices, mostly Delight cooing, comforting the crying filly. I sat down on the ground and let out a deep sigh. Then I heard rasping whispering voice of Rainbow, but she was trying to keep her voice low so I could discern only some phrases.

“Twilight… Didn’t mean…” Her tone wasn’t scolding, but rather patient. “...Those who used dark magic… Canterlot wedding… Celestia… Sister-in-law… Then the Great War with the Ebony Warlock… Lost almost everypony…”

Trying to hear what exactly Rainbow was telling to Wire was an attempt to distract myself from the crushing guilt I was feeling I missed somepony approaching my side until I heard the scrunch of rocks under a metal hoof, betraying who it was.

I turned to look at Tin Flower who stopped hesitantly by my side. She met my eyes with a frown. I could tell she was obviously disappointed with me, but she didn’t want to be and show that. She was looking up to me and yet I acted like a complete jerk. Feeling a new pang of shame, I turned away.

“Twilight…” she spoke uncertainly, and I turned to her again only to see her looking for the right words as she sat beside me.

“I… I don’t want to say that you’ve lost less than any of us,” Flower paused taking a deep breath, “for all I know you’ve lost the whole world.” No filly of her age would speak like that back in my time, but no filly had to fight for life on a daily basis five centuries ago. That wisdom had come with a horrible price.

“But,” she hesitated again, grimacing and her tone gained notes of accusal and sympathy, though the latter wasn’t meant for me, “there is a difference between simply losing somepony – I have lost my parents – and seeing your mother suffering everyday from the wounds she got protecting you. Why else do you think Red Wire hangs at my shitty place all the time?” She paused again, more to come up with what to say next than to let her words sink in. “And she watched her younger brother slowly die from pneumonia, I was there when he grew cold in her hooves.”

I winced, the guilt I felt became almost overwhelming. I hurt Wire so bad… What was wrong with me? I wasn’t even there when those I knew died, with one single exception. And even so, it wasn’t a competition of who had lost more loved ones and in a more heartbreaking way.

After a deep shuddering breath Flower continued, “I don’t blame Wire for being a jerk to me, because I know she doesn’t mean it. If anything, it helps her to deal with all... that.

“She acts tough and I do too, but in the end we are just fillies, Twilight,” she concluded in a sorrowful, way too sorrowful tone.

“I’m so sorry, Flower,” I squeezed from myself. Any frustration or anger I had felt towards Red Wire was gone without a trace.

She looked me in the eyes one more time, sadly, but with understanding. Then she nodded and slowly walked back to the group, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I didn’t want to think about anything, however.

I stood and turned towards my friends, but remained in my place.

Trixie was far from the group, sitting forlornly, a black silhouette gazing at the horizon. Rainbow stood with a dispassionate face, waiting near the piled saddlebags, temporarily discarded from most of the backs. Del sat with Wire and she was glaring daggers at me with her single eye. And Wire herself… my proverbial heart died – she was simply sitting with her head and shoulders slumped, so fragile and small.

She was too young to deal with all that pain. On second thought, scrap that – there was no age good enough to go through what she had to experience.

Wire lifted her head to look at me and I was met with two eyes, a crude artificial one and her natural swollen from crying, with a streak of still-wet fur across her cheek. There was no more defiance, no more arrogance on her face.

She rose to her hooves and began to walk towards me. For a single moment I panicked – I wasn’t quite ready for that conversation – but I had to own my mistakes and there could be no better time than now.

Letting out a deep sigh followed by just as deep a breath to bolster myself (though both were nothing but symbolic), I headed in Wire’s direction.

We met halfway and stopped in front of each other, awkwardly avoiding making eye contact. The silence stretched out; steeling myself, I decided to be the first to speak.

“I’m so sorry, Red Wire, I…” my voice trailed off. I wanted to say I didn’t mean to say those things, but we both knew I truly meant them. “I shouldn’t have said what I said and I’m genuinely sorry for your loss,” I lamely finished. With how badly I screwed up, there was no way I could come up with a graceful apology.

“I’m sorry too, Twilight.” She sniffled and continued, “I shouldn’t have said those things to you either. I’m sorry for your loss, too.”

I thought of offering her a hug, but she seemed to have something else to say on her mind.

“I know that you see me as spiteful, but… I just…” she trailed off and I saw fresh tears glistening in her eyes. I reached with my hoof to her, but she shied away, though reluctantly – she simply wanted to make her point.

“Flower must have told you about my mother, my brother... “ She began to sniffle again, but regained composure and continued after a deep breath, “...my family.” Her face sombered. “There is one more thing, something I’m not sure Flower will be able to understand – after getting this,” -she pointed at her artificial eye- “I have lost some of my magic and my only chance to get out of the Edge. I don’t want to hurt anypony or conquer anything… I just want to learn from Trixie to be able to help my family again.”

I hung my head in shame. Red Wire’s desire to learn dark magic wasn’t fueled by malevolence - she had the most genuine aspirations, not to mention that I could very well understand how hard it was to have your magic impaired. And the pragmatist in me knew that both Wire and Trixie were right: I was neither Wire’s mother to stop her, nor would it change anything if I did, since Canterlot seemed to be housing a plethora of warlocks these days and somepony else would become her teacher.

“I’m sorry, Wire, I didn’t know.” Though in retrospect I should have realized that the Transference Paradox had to be affecting her rather severely – an eye prosthetic had a high coefficient.

For my next words I had to steel my heart because it went against everything I believed. “I’m not going to prevent Trixie from teaching you, but,” -Red Wire frowned, more confused than angry- “I want to supervise your study.”

For a few moments she was silent, evaluating those conditions as she stared at the ground with her forehead creased in deep thought. Then she looked up at me with a wide smile on her face.

“Deal.”

With Red Wire, who looked happier than I ever remembered her, despite the tear trails on her cheek, I returned to the group patiently waiting for us to resume our journey. My first thought was to talk with Trixie about the arrangement I had made with Wire, but it seemed that amending the rift between us wouldn’t be so easy – she was avoiding me, turning and walking away when I tried to approach.

Delight was still giving me discontented glances, but she didn’t seem to be as mad as before. Rainbow simply handed me my saddlebags with a stone-like face – she either didn’t truly care for all that transpired or was too focused on the task at hoof.

In a bit of awkward silence we proceeded to walk across the rocky steppe. This time nopony talked, making me feel even worse because I had effectively soured the mood for everypony with my actions. Not to mention Trixie, who now sulked far behind our group, and making amends with her didn’t seem to be that simple.

A few hours later we made a brief stop with the girls having a quick meal and letting them have time to rest their legs. By that time the sun was no longer high in the sky, though we still had enough time before we would have to camp for the night.

Eventually, the plain became more of a desert – sand crunched under our hooves and the girls were bringing the bottles of water to their lips every so often – the air became arid and filled with dust, conjuring thirst even without heat. The rare patches of dry crusty grass were gone and replaced by even more dessicated bushes clinging to the shadow of brownish red rocks, unpleasantly reminding me of the Junkyard. Absentmindedly I thought that my recent experiences would never let me look the same way at the red spectrum of colors.

As the sun began to close to the horizon, painting everything in orange hues, there appeared a few additions to the dreary scenery.

First, on our left, green darkness started to mar the horizon – Hayseed Swamps. A mighty bulk of rotten woods forever drowning in the poisonous mire was looming in the far distance. It was a dangerous place, filled with many kinds of creature that could make the Everfree look like a normal forest, but fortunately our path lay far enough from it.

But much more importantly, Dodge City, or what was left of it, could be seen ahead of us.

Delight, as a sharp-eyed pegasus was the first to notice it or, rather, to note – I was sure Rainbow saw it first, but just didn’t speak. That lifted the collective spirits considerably, because that meant the camp might take place not under the open sky (with the lantern having been broken in the attack, it wasn’t something anypony was looking forward to). However, I wasn’t so eager – something about the ruins at the horizon was giving me a bad feeling.

As we drew closer and the sun began to settle, that sensation only grew in strength – I could now see why. The air above Dodge City was quivering, as if there was a boiling mirage. I would write it off as a natural phenomenon, but the weather wasn’t that warm…

When I mentioned it to the others, nopony else agreed with me and Wire jokingly suggested Flower check on my eyes when we stop there. She might be right about it, since even Rainbow hadn’t confirmed my concerns. For a while I relaxed – after all, I was nothing but stressed by our journey and could be simply imagining things.

However, by the time we were about an hour’s walk away from the edge of the city, I approached Rainbow again – I could feel something. My horn was slightly tingling, as if the magic around was somewhat off – even Wire agreed with me, though she told me that her horn was itching around me all the time anyway and dismissed my worries. I didn’t dare to try approaching Trixie on that matter, though I was sure she wouldn’t be silent if something was wrong.

Nonetheless, I couldn’t shake it off.

“Rainbow, maybe we can go around the city,” I said as I pulled level with her.

“Negative.” She sighed. “We can’t really go around even if we actually wanted to.”

As I gave her an unsatisfied look, she groaned.

“Not without coming too close to the swamps and at night, no less,” she explained. “And on the west from the city there is a large quarry – it will take us days to make a detour.”

With my lips pursed I left her side and took the lead of the procession – I wanted to be the first to enter the city, just in case.

Despite the darkness descending on the land as the sun was half-submerged over the horizon I began to see another thing, much more real this time, that started to bother me.

Dodge City was nothing but ruins as I expected, but it wasn’t ruined... enough. I could assume that the city wasn’t abandoned the same time the Great War ended, but for four centuries it looked too well preserved, unless, of course, it was still inhabited. And I doubted that was the case – there was not a single light in sight or any other signs of civilization still lingering in that place.

Finally, my hoof stepped onto a street of decrepit one-story wooden buildings. I stopped – that feeling of wrongness I was having was almost unbearable right now, as if something was crawling under my proverbial skin.

And finally a missing piece of the puzzle clicked in its place in my head.

Why would the elder stallion at the bridge tell us it was a safe passage if all he wanted was for ponies and equinoids to be gone along with Equestria? Why was he smiling when we left?

All of a sudden, my vision seemed to crack, reality splitting without a sound. At first I thought of my lenses giving up for whatever reason – maybe Wire was right after all. But I knew it couldn’t be the case – the cracks weren’t moving along with my eyes.

My head swam and through the confusion I instantly felt intense panic rising inside of me – it happened before, deep under the city. No… not again… The images before my eyes began to shake and blink with colors as I fell to my knees – I couldn't tell if from despair or if it was my body surrendering to the plight of living nightmare.

Wave after wave of the endless tide of desolation began to crash against my mind – I couldn’t go through this one more time. I thought it stopped affecting me, but in truth I was just ignoring how damaging it was to my consciousness – maybe I should have talked to Delight back then...

But this time it was different – I wasn’t alone. They would help me...

Struggling, I turned my head back – my body was refusing to answer to my will – and froze.

As suddenly as it came, the sensation of reality falling apart was gone...

...Along with Red Wire, Clandestine Delight, Rainbow Dash and Trixie. Only Tin Flower stood behind my back, as stricken as I was – it was apparent she felt it all too, though maybe in not the same way. But even that wasn’t as shocking as what I saw.

A sunlit street with ponies going about their business between intact buildings lay before my eyes, divided from the ruins I was at by absolutely nothing. Night and day existed in my field of view like it was something normal. It was strange and preternatural, and yet it wasn’t the most shocking part...

A group of hauntingly familiar mares – two pegasi, two unicorns and two earth ponies were talking with another mare, a cream-colored earth pony with a cherry-colored mane.

One of the pegasi was Rainbow Dash, but she wore no suit of armor.

And I was one of the unicorns.

Tin Flower turned to me with wide eyes.

“Twilight,” she whispered, her voice quivering and full of terror and confusion, “what is happening?”

Author's Notes:
Well, if it wasn't one huge chapter. I hope that it wasn't a problem and that it lived up to your expectations.
The only news I have are regarding the future chapters: chapter 14 is finished and being edited, chapter 15 is being written. Not much outside of that, at least for now. As I said, there was one unfinished side story of Aftersound which fate hinged on chapter 14 and things mentioned in that. Good news: I'm going to finish it and it is already ~3k words long. Bad news: it ain't gonna happen soon. But it will happen.
Aftersound Project Discord server - it's a little community dedicated to discussion of the story and whatnot. Everyone is welcome to join.
As you could note – one more person joined the editing team, DuvetofReason (suffering me being a dum-dum, so you don't have to), who hails from Pony Tales, a quite welcoming place dedicated to disscussing and working on many great stories (now including Aftersound). I think you may also find it interesting.
If you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know.
I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.
Stay awesome.

Chapter 14 – To dodge the Junction

Aftersound

=================================

Written by:

Flutterfinar & Geka

Preread and edited by:

Cover art done by:

=================================

To dodge the Junction

====================

I stood paralyzed by the emotions battling inside of me: dread, shock, confusion… Somewhere in the back of my mind I was even glad to see my friends again. But as the seconds passed, common sense began to regain control over my mind amidst the overwhelming desperation.

I was observing things that should not be, and yet it wasn’t just me – Tin Flower was obviously witnessing that as well. So it wasn’t a recurrence of the virus which plagued my mind under Canterlot. However the question as to why I was seeing what I was seeing remained and, more importantly, what I was looking at. Was it even real or was it an illusion?

“Twilight, is it how you looked when you were… you know?” Flower tentatively asked, looking at me in bewilderment.

My eyes returned to ‘me’ and my friends. Suddenly I realized that I wasn’t looking at something random – it was a very exact moment from our lives! We were visiting this city looking for Applejack who went missing after she went on a rodeo… But how was I seeing that? Did I travel back in time somehow?

Deep in my reverie I almost forgot about Tin Flower’s question. She had to tap my shoulder with her metal hoof to bring me back to reality. If it could even be called so – I wasn’t sure anymore.

“Yes, it’s me…” I trailed off, becoming lost in my thoughts once again, though for a different reason right now, “And my friends…”

My gaze slid over the ponies who were some of the most important in my life, as dear to me as family members. We were so innocent, so happy… If I were to tell them what would become of us in the not so distant future, they wouldn’t believe me – I myself still had trouble distinguishing my life from a nightmare at times.

“You were pretty,” Flower again yanked me out of my musing. Before I could react to her words (though, I had no idea how) she continued, spluttering, “I mean, it’s not that you don’t look pretty now as well…”

“It’s all right, Flower. And thank you.” It was the most warmth I could muster right now, because I had finally managed to snap my attention from sorrowful nostalgia to the real issues.

Where were the others? And what should we do now?

I twirled in place, taking in my surroundings. The sunlit street in front of me lived its own quaint busy life. However, I could only see it – no sound or smell crossed the invisible wall between it. There was a clear border between realities – the sunlight was abruptly ending, becoming night in a very unnatural way, grating on my mind. It was impossible to say how far the ‘past street’ went – the remains of the ‘present’ were obscuring the view. Trying to deduce anything by looking at the sky was impossible because of how everything was blurring in the distance, making my head hurt if I tried to concentrate; which was strange by itself since I shouldn’t feel pain due to my metal body. All in all it was an utterly bizarre, anomalous sight, going against the logic and rules of both science and magic.

At the same time behind me were the ruins, decrepit and ancient, but suspiciously well preserved. I was sure it was no accident, the force that was behind the appearance of the ‘past’ street must have been making the city debris appear younger than they should be. And they were just as silent, only the occasional gust of wind was playing with sand, making it whisper its rough murmuring song.

While my friends were on the ‘other’ side, they weren’t the friends I was looking for right now. Rainbow, Delight, Wire and Trixie should be in the place where the anomaly was, but none of them could be seen either inside or around it. Considering how violently it manifested, I was starting to become very concerned about their fates.

Glancing at Flower I saw her looking back at me expectantly with a face full of worry. It didn’t evade her that we were alone and most likely in serious trouble. But we were together and that was a priceless advantage.

I was torn between the options presented to me. We had to look for our friends – I wasn’t ever going to abandon them no matter what. However, I still had no idea what we were dealing with. I didn’t even know if I could just walk into that anomaly without any consequences for me, and especially Tin Flower. And right now wasn’t the time for experimenting. Thinking of it made me return to the previous question: what was it? If it was just an illusion, it wasn’t that troubling. But if I was dealing with time travel… My mind was racing, trying to calculate all the possible complications. The self-consistency principle I experienced myself… but what if we got stuck there? And why didn’t I remember that?

I abruptly stopped my train of thought. No matter the details, one thing was certain: going in would be dangerous and questionable in its productivity, leaving me with only one choice.

“Let’s try to find the others,” I said, motioning for Tin Flower to follow me.

I turned away from the sunny and who-knows-if-even-real Dodge City and began to trot into the ruins. Flower gave the bright street one last longing glance – for her it was a place of enchanting beauty, rather than a deeply troubling echo of the past. I spared it a worried look as well – my friends and ‘I’ were already gone from sight, following a mare called Cherry Jubilee. However, I feared that we very well might have to return there if we failed to find the rest of our company in the debris.

Slowly and cautiously we were crossing the dilapidated town.

There wasn’t much left of the buildings around us but skeletons made of once-sturdy wooden girders, and even they were giving up to time. Almost every house had their roofs caved in, often taking the walls with them as well, though in a few cases they still remained, alone and half-ruined.

It still wasn’t something I had expected to see. There was only one place in Equestria which stood, and would stand, the trial of time – the Castle of the Two Sisters – but it was a completely different case. What I was looking at wasn’t even supposed to be a city. Those buildings were temporary, built only to be replaced later. Exposed to the elements they could have lasted for two, two and a half at best, centuries before being swallowed by sand.

Another thing I noted was that I couldn’t recognize the patterns of stars in the sky at all. It wasn’t just because Princess Luna didn’t care about her night tapestry anymore; those stars just looked wrong in general – alien and unnatural. Inexplicably, everything was bathed in moonlight, but the moon itself was absent from the sky. It was as if it was always behind my back no matter how fast I turned. Even with Flower’s help, I couldn’t catch sight of it. Needless to say it was not just weird, but distressing, bordering on creepy.

On top of that I was feeling an increasing discomfort – not with the situation itself, though my worries were growing with each minute passing and proving the futility of our search. There was something wrong with the magic. Its flow was irregular and wrong in a way I couldn’t explain, only sense vaguely. Even Tin Flower complained about the strange faint buzzing sound she was hearing – she called it ‘white noise’, though I had no idea what it meant.

I stopped in my tracks and frowned. It took me a few moments to realize what was happening. My eyes grew wide and my proverbial heart skipped a beat – it was exactly the same thing I had felt before reality split apart the last time. I turned around and with horror realized it was happening again. The ruins began to warp and flicker, losing their colors or becoming oversaturated, plunging into pitch black darkness or becoming lit by the blinding daylight from the unseen sun.

My knees buckled under me. I was being reacquainted with a sensation I had almost forgotten thanks to my artificial body – pain. I tried to warn Flower, tell her to run, but only a strained scream escaped my mouth. To my horror, she echoed it.

The pain became blinding, filling my world with a grainy shimmering whiteness. The only sounds I could hear were screams, but I couldn’t tell to whom they belonged: me, Flower or the world itself as it was torn apart. Much like before, as suddenly as it came, the agonizing wrongness was gone at the moment of its apotheosis. Blinking away tears…

Wait.

I dabbed my eyes with my hooves – it was oil! Whatever that was, it damaged my body. I began to whip my head around – if it was enough to overpower the steel of my metal vessel there was no telling how harmful it could be for a filly!

Flower was right behind me, a few steps away, in the same place the anomaly caught us. She was unsteadily rising on her shaking hooves, blood dripping from her nostrils, eyes and even ears. I rushed to her quivering form, carefully embracing her in my hooves.

“Are you alright!?” I yelled as I began to inspect her for wounds – but couldn’t find any.

Flower spat red on the ground and weakly nodded, gulping. I squeezed her to my breast and then let go. She swayed, but then she regained her bearings.

“Yeah,” she nodded again wiping blood from her muzzle. Raising her bloodshot eyes at me she asked, “What the fuck was that?” Then her eyes shifted behind my back, and a confused expression overtook her features. “And where the fuck are we?”

Too relieved to see her alive and relatively unharmed to chastise her for the foul language, I looked around.

I had to blink a few times, because I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

Unlike the last anomalous occurrence, reality didn’t split anywhere near us – it seemed like we had ended up inside it, which explained why it affected us much more strongly.

All around us were the ruins, but they were hardly the same. As if listening to my complaints, the universe decided to throw us into what was supposed to be: Dodge City almost erased by the river of time flowing through it.

Only rare stone foundations were marking the ground like tombstones. The timber turned into either rot or fossils, bleached and bone-dry, half eaten away by wind. Sand and dust were midway in greedily and inevitably swallowing the town. The moonlight was gone and only the unfamiliar stars were shining down, barely helping to distinguish anything in the darkness. With the walls gone, I could see the distant horizon, and it made me frown. I expected to see more of Hayseed Swamp; it was almost as if it had withered along with the city over the centuries, though that made little sense.

“I don’t know,” I whispered to Tin Flower in a small voice. There was something ominous about Dodge City now, as if somepony or something was watching us.

Suddenly I felt a touch on my flank – it was Tin Flower who pressed herself to my body, looking around with fear. I pursed my lips. I wasn’t going to leave my friends behind, my plan was the same, but there might be an addition to it. There was no telling how many anomalies we were going to experience, but I didn’t want Flower to go through any more of them. Bringing her out of the city and returning back to continue my search would be the most reasonable thing to do now.

I lit up my horn and headed to the direction of Hayseed Swamps, feeling Tin Flower brush my side as we silently crept amongst the headstones of the long-abandoned houses.

The silence was unbearable, not even wind whispered to the sand, no crickets’ song rang through the air, no rustle and bustle of nocturnal life could be heard. With the darkness pressing in from all sides, I felt like my mind was being crushed inside my skull by the onslaught of the void around us. Trying to distract myself from that unpleasant sensation, I began to think about those anomalies. After all, one more observation had just been added to the data I possessed on the matter. But somehow the quiet was disrupting all my ideas, making them abruptly dissolve into the same nothingness which surrounded us.

“The sunny street we saw was from the past,” I softly said, deciding to voice my thoughts so I wouldn’t go crazy. And also, Flower was a smart filly. Although she wasn’t a unicorn, she could still notice something I was missing.

“I figured as much,” she commented, getting the cue. I was sure our surroundings had to be just as unnerving for her, if not more so. “Are we traveling through time then?” There wasn’t a single hint of excitement in her voice, only concern.

“I’m not sure…” I replied. I couldn’t deny I was witnessing Dodge City in different states… stages of its existence, but... “This is supposed to be the present, but it’s decayed enough to be five hundred years old.”

Flower fell silent for a few moments. I didn’t need to turn to her to see her scrunching her nose as she thought hard.

“Doesn’t that mean we started from the… ‘past’ past?” Yes, she was a smart filly indeed. “But how?”

“I’m asking myself the same question.” A deep sigh escaped my mouth. It wasn’t the only inconsistency in all that mess. “If it is time travelling, why can’t we see the moon? And why does Hayseed Swamp seem to be smaller now? Something doesn’t add up.”

I abruptly stopped – I just saw movement on the edge of the circle cast by my light. I put a hoof in front of Flower, preventing her from trotting ahead – the little mechanic was too lost in her thoughts. She glanced at me questioningly, and I silently nodded towards the place where I saw something barely noticeable shifting on the outskirts of my horn’s pale glow.

Like two statues we stood in the middle of a luminescent purple lake, peering into the night. I thought I could feel Flower’s heartbeat with my hoof, but I dismissed it as my imagination. And as seconds passed away I began to realize that those glints in the darkness could be nothing but tricks of the light as well – this place wasn’t good for my mental health.

I had almost decided to dismiss it as nothing and continue on our way out of the city when I saw it.

An equine silhouette, glowing ever so faintly, moved slowly and preternaturally as if gliding through the air. I felt, this time for real, Flower tense and grab my hoof, either seeking protection or reassurance. Possibly both.

I stood, both horrified and enchanted, watching as the lambent mare hovered into the circle of my light. She had neither wings nor a horn, and yet her hooves weren’t touching the ground. Her features were grayed out, emanating ghostly and weak radiances of colors that looked very familiar, but I couldn’t say where I had seen them before. Her eyes were blank and aimed downwards, together with her slightly tilted head giving her a mournful appearance.

A stroke of insight came to me. I had seen a pony like this before… in the Deep Tunnels. Captivated by the mare’s eerie appearance, I failed to notice the buzzing inside my head, growing stronger and more unpleasant as she neared us.

I took a step back, but my hoof failed to find a steady purchase on the small pebbles and I teetered, barely regaining my balance. My frantic motions were accompanied by the loud crunching of sand and gravel under my metal limbs.

The mare snapped her head in my direction… No, that wasn’t the correct way to describe what I saw. Her silhouette jerked in a single massive convulsion, her whole body changing pose without movement – her limbs just appeared in other places, as if she were skipping frames of motion. After one more spasm, she regained the same floating position but with her head pointed at us, though her eyes were unfocused, fixed on something behind, or even beyond, our scared faces.

The grating sensation inside my head was starting to become painful and I heard Flower grunt and felt her wince – she was feeling it too.

Without any warning, the mare began to scream – a deafening, terrifying, inequine wail cutting straight into my mind, filling my vision with static and making me drop to one knee from the agony.

I knew I was screaming, but I couldn’t hear myself. Flower’s mouth was open in just as silent a cry, her nostrils and eyes dewing the ground with fresh crimson tears.

Not able to aim from the overwhelming pain and the static, I began to hurl stunning blasts one after another in the direction of the shrieking specter, and after a few of those, she stopped with a gurgle. Gathering all the strength and resolve I had, not bothering to look at it, I grabbed Flower from the ground and all but flung her barely moving form on my back. Then I darted away as fast as I could without tripping over my hooves.

The stone remnants rushed by as I ran past them, trying to escape the skull-splitting screeches of that undead mare. But it wasn’t helping… Static was filling my vision along with the noise dominating my hearing. Too late I realized that it was another anomaly about to claim us again, not the nightmarish ghost.

My hoof caught on a stone, I was launched forward and in that very moment reality warped around me, becoming white agony dominating my every sense. I flew through the air for what felt like an eternity of pain until I crashed into something relatively soft – somepony, I realized.

My vision was yet to return to me, but I could already hear a muffled yell from the pony under me, signifying that Flower and I might have chanced to stumble upon one of our friends, or at least not another horrifying specter.

“Rainbow! What gives?” the pony snapped in a bone-chilling voice.

The static was fading from my eyes, replaced by lavender flank into which I had slammed with my muzzle.

“Wait…” Twilight Sparkle said with rising worry in her tone. “Who are you?”

It was as if I were looking into a mirror, if there were mirrors which could show a younger version of a pony. There were five centuries spanning between ...us; but in practice no more than five years had passed and yet it was undeniable how youthful she… I… was.

I found myself lost in those two pools of vibrant amethyst. Around them there was no sickly darkness of sleepless yet nightmarish nights spent trying to come up with an invention that would turn the tides of war. Nor did deep wrinkles, dug by constant panic-bordering stress, mar her young skin. And from those eyes not a void of endless pain and loss answered the world, but a reflection of the stars – of the sun she carried in her heart.

She was Twilight Sparkle and I was Twilight Sparkle. How could we be so different and still be the same pony?

I didn’t know how much time passed, but it was her who was the first to come out of the stupor. My appearance couldn’t go unnoticed by the younger version of me. Despite all the efforts of the city, I still retained enough paint on my metal body to look uncannily similar to what I once was. Whatever theories and questions she had in her mind remained unvocalized as she noticed something at my side and her eyes went even wider than before, becoming filled with nothing but worry.

I began to turn my head in the direction she was looking (and already moving), but I understood what got her attention as soon as I heard a loud groan of Tin Flower, more annoyed than pained, before I saw the filly at my side.

“I didn’t know somepony can fucking screech louder than Wire,” Flower grumbled, making ‘Twilight’ freeze in her tracks, appalled by both the intonation and choice of words. Noticing her presence, Flower added, “Twilight, did you hit my head by accident or something? You look… erm… different…” she mumbled as she was wiping blood from her eyes and nostrils.

“I… I didn’t hit you!” ‘young’ me instantly recoiled at the accusation, her eyes jumping between Flower and me, the obvious desire to help the wounded filly fighting with confusion. “I’ve just met you!”

“Neither did I; you didn't get hit at all,” I said worriedly, tapping Flower’s shoulder to get her attention. She might not have been affected directly, but it was obvious our transgressions between realities were having a negative effect on her body. It could be just blood vessels in her nose and eyes rupturing, or it could be much worse – any of her internal organs could be suffering from those anomalies resulting in internal bleeding.

Flower turned to me and then back to ‘young’ Twilight, her expression becoming both confused and curious.

“Who are you!?” ‘young me’ yelled again, this time with clear panic in her voice. “This filly needs help – she is bleeding!” I couldn’t deny her point, and it might be a very good idea to get some while I was in this reality. A sudden thought crept into my mind: what if I left Flower in this, much better, world with the ‘young me’? It wouldn’t go against the rules of time travel, would it?

“Nah, I’m alright.” Flower stood up and smeared blood from her hooves all over her coat, making both of us Twilights wince. “Could be better,” she muttered, “but it’s not the worst I’ve ever gotten.” With those words she flailed her metal hoof in the air, reminding me how she got it and driving ‘young me’ into a state of further shock.

That gave me a bit of time to think of how I should proceed. The problem was, well, in ‘me’. Back then I was not only innocent, which could be a problem on its own, but also quite impressible, more so than now. However, I still needed to start from somewhere. And I decided to cut straight to the chase.

“I’m you from the future,” I levelly stated, looking ‘myself’ in the eyes again.

I was met with disbelief, of course.

“But there can’t be two ‘me’s’!” she retorted, looking crossly at me, “It’s not scientifically possible!” Oh, Twilight, what would you know about it...

She stuck her hoof at my chest. “You are not scientifically possible!”

Wait a moment… why did it feel so familiar?

“Oh...” A deep sigh escaped my metal lips.

Of course… I had already visited myself from the past. But it happened a few weeks after I returned from Dodge City, so that’s why this Twilight had no idea. And that also made me realize something else: if I remembered how a Twilight from the next week came to warn me I also should have remembered a blood-covered filly with a metal leg and a metal version of myself.

That meant whatever was taking place right now wasn’t time travel.

“What happened to you?” Twilight continued to gush, oblivious to my revelations, “Why do you have to wear that armor? Is there some epic pony war in the distant future or something?” I shuddered at those words – she was too innocent. “How did you time travel?”

“Stop!” I barked at her, and clutched my head in my hooves; her curiosity wasn’t helping the situation, but rather acting like a salt on wound. “It’s not time travel…”

But what was it? What was happening? It wasn’t a question of ‘when’ anymore, I realized, but ‘why’.

“What do you mean?” young Twilight tilted her head, slightly taken aback by my yell. “You’ve just said you are from the future.”

I let out another deep sigh. Dealing with myself was a bit harder than I expected. Back then I had no idea how time travel worked – not that I had a full understanding now.

“I am, but I don’t remember this encounter, though I have to – it’s how time travel works.” This version of me had no idea that time travel abided by the self-consistency principle – she had yet to experience it… or never would.

“Maybe you are going to wipe my memory after?” young Twilight suggested, squinting at me suspiciously.

“No, I don’t know such a spell.” I shook my head sadly; not because of my answer, but because the understanding began to dawn on me: If I didn’t remember this past, it never existed – it simply wasn’t real.

“Are you…” her eyes went wide and her face paled. “Are you going t-to k-kill and r-replace me?” She stammered.

Even if I had the same or almost the same body it would have changed nothing, sadly. Not that it was an option I would ever consider.

“Of course not,” I dismissed her worry with a roll of my eyes.

I knew it was coming and it was no surprise to me when Twilight’s face fell, even more so when she thought I was going to kill her. Since we both were Twilights her mind should be following the same path and when presented the exact same information, come to the same conclusions.

“Then…” she swayed, trying to regain her bearings, starting to hyperventilate. “It means I am…” the last words she squeezed through tears, “...not real?”

The younger and not-so-real Twilight fell on her knees, hit by the crushing realization, sobs wracking her delicate frame.

I felt sympathy towards her, but to my own surprise I also felt some… detached coldness. After I was resurrected in a different body, after all I went through, my perception of such matters became more… casual. I was no longer perturbed by the existence of multiple instances of the same or almost the same pony. In a morbid clarity, I understood her nature and its implications. She was nothing more than an aberrant echo.

“I’m afraid so,” I said, mimicking sorrow. She didn’t need to know how I was seeing her, I knew how she would react – I had been there before. “I’m sorry.”

I let her grieve for her situation for a few minutes, impassively watching how she grimaced with existential pain. Dodge City stood here for hundreds of years and I couldn’t even fathom how many times this Twilight Sparkle re-lived her visit to it and if she even was aware of her perpetually echoing existence. It could be the very first time for all I knew, caused by my return to this place. What if I dragged her out of this anomaly? Would she exist in my reality? Then there would be three Twilights who were in this world… Which one of them would be the true one: all or none?

Looking at her made me realize how drastically and yet inconspicuously my view had changed on such things as who was a pony: Nothing but the memories they did and did not have...

“But… h-how can it be?” She finally calmed down enough for her curiosity to reign once again.

“I don’t know.” It was my turn to grimace. Whatever revelations I had about all of this, the forces behind our problems remained unknown. “We keep running into some kind of magic anomaly here at Dodge City. I thought it flung us between what I thought were different moments in time… but it doesn’t seem to be so.”

“Maybe it is some kind of a disrupted timeline?” Twilight suggested and then audibly gasped, “Do you think we created it because we have met?”

I considered that possibility for a single moment, but quickly dismissed it.

“No, something was wrong with this place before I even stepped into it.” Talking with myself had no use – she knew even less than I did and our minds worked in the same way. “Listen, I… I need to find my friends and escape this place. Can you help me?”

Although I pitied her, I couldn’t help this Twilight. She was only an aftersound of me. I could still help the others, however.

For a few moments she was silent, brows furrowed as she considered her options.

“Yes,” she finally nodded with a somber and resolute expression.“What do you want me to do?”

“I’d like to find a doctor to have a look at Flower…”

“I’m fine, I’m telling you,” the filly in question protested.

“...and look for my friends.”

“So…” Twilight awkwardly began as we exited the wooden building we were in onto the sunny streets of Dodge City, “Can you tell me something about your future?” Her ears drooped and tone became full of sadness. “I won’t be able to see it, but I’m still curious.”

I hesitated with the answer, but only because I was scanning my surroundings for any signs of Rainbow, Wire, Trixie or Delight. Unfortunately nothing betrayed their presence. I idly wondered if Rainbow met herself as well and how it had gone.

“You don’t want to…” I began my reply with a sidelong glance, but trailed off as I felt a disturbance in the air.

“Can you feel that?” I screwed my head around to look at Twilight. Another anomaly was coming.

“Yes…” she whispered with wide eyes. A moment later she exclaimed, “It’s not the timeline that is disrupted but the ley lines!”

I was too distracted by the growing pain to truly appreciate that statement. Oddly she didn’t seem to be affected by the cracking reality, while I was beginning to feel an unbearable ache in my horn once again.

“Oh, not this fucking shit again!” Flower angrily yelled, clutching her head in her hooves, blood already starting to drip from her nose.

Everything became white agony for that maddeningly infinite amount of time.

And then I was blinking dark oil from my metal eyes, rising from my knees. As soon as I could see, I instantly checked on Flower. She was leaning on my body, heaving, a sheen of sweat on her coat and scarlet streaks on her cheeks glistening under the moonlight. Moonlight! I was whipping my head trying to understand in which reality we had ended up in this time.

“Twilight, I don’t wanna complain,” Flower rasped, spitting on the ground, “but I’m kinda tired of all… that.”

She wasn’t alone. But I had some good news.

“It seems like we ended up in the original reality this time,” I said checking on my surroundings once again.

Fallen apart wooden houses, moonlight without a moon but with unfamiliar constellations; I could even catch a glimpse of Hayseed Swamps – they looked the same as when we were entering Dodge City. Yes, it was the ‘present past reality’, which might have its own issues, but it was where we began at least.

Now was the time to consider the implications that ‘young me’ told me before she ceased to be along with the past. Because in fact it was an invaluable piece of information.

‘Disrupted ley lines’ wasn’t unveiling the dark secret of this place, but it did partially explain how the anomalies worked. The Everfree Forest was an example of such a phenomenon, though not to a degree this severe. When Princess Luna turned into Nightmare Moon, the resulting aftershock of that spell damaged the tapestry of magic, making it uncontrollable and wild. But here… whatever took place, it must have completely torn apart reality.

Surely it was an incredibly interesting question deserving thorough research, but right now I had a filly who was ravaged by this place and potentially internally hemorrhaging. There was one very relevant fact implied by that knowledge which could be life saving. If the problem was with the ley lines, avoiding the points where they were piercing the ground and coming out of the depths of the earth could potentially help us to not run into any anomalies anymore. It wasn’t a certainty, but it was a chance we shouldn't dismiss.

Closing my eyes, I tried to concentrate on the magic around me. I reached out and…

It was like a white-hot nail was lodged in my horn. My eyes instantly opened and I saw a shower of sparks, both magical and not come out the top my head, lighting Flower’s scared face, while I was spasming with agony.

“What was that!?” she exclaimed with worry, instantly returning to my side and trying to get a better look at my forehead.

Grimacing, I touched my horn, making it sizzle as the oily tears evaporated from my hoof. It was discouraging, but not enough for me to not attempt it at least one more time.

Sparing Flower any verbal answer, I give her a reassuring nod. Letting out a deep sigh and then just as deep a breath to calm myself, I closed my eyes.

Ever so slowly and carefully I expanded my mind sensing the flow of arcane energies all around me. Somewhere to my left there was a great disturbance, a raging inferno of violently swirling and thrashing magic. I instantly recoiled from it as my horn ached from the memory of searing agony.

After a few long minutes of tentatively and meticulously probing the reality around me as far I could expand my sense of magic, I came up with a somewhat concrete idea of which areas and directions we should be avoiding.

If I was correct, we should be able to pass a series of ruined buildings on our right without stumbling into any more anomalies and luckily emerge into the outskirts of the city. Motioning with my hoof for Flower to follow I headed into the passage between two decrepit houses.

We crawled through the debris and darkness, guided by nothing but my memory of the torn apart magic tapestry. From time to time I had to pause and check for anomalies again. So far my guess of them being directly connected to the ley lines was correct... or we were just fortunate.

The path ahead of us was more or less clear with one single exception, more confusing than worrying. There was a disruption, not of ley lines but something else, cold and dark. And there was also one more thing concerning me: I thought I could hear muffled shrieks ahead of us – unintelligible yet clearly equine, definitely belonging to somepony sapient this time.

Turning back I saw clouds of dust in the air. It glistened in the moonlight with an unmistakable sheen – it was arcanium. In retrospect I realized that the shrieking spectre glowed with iridescent light. I had a vague suspicion that, somehow, the presence of that magic metal was linked with the overall weirdness of this place.

I tugged at Tin Flower’s ‘clothing’, making her pause. She stopped turning to me with a questioning and even somewhat hopeful expression – she could hear the cries too. I shared her hope – it very well could be our friends out there. However, it could also be one of those screamers, and the last thing we needed right now was to run into them.

Looking at Flower, I realized that she was missing her saddlebags. I couldn’t remember the moment she lost them – it must have been when we were fleeing the screaming ghost. Mine were still hanging on my flanks, but one of them was torn at the corner and seemed to have lost some of its contents. However, now wasn’t the time to take count of our remaining supplies. The yelling in the distance became more pronounced.

Motioning with my hoof for Flower to keep quiet, I took the lead and began to creep along the decaying wooden walls towards the noise. After we passed a few buildings, a clearing – a crossing of two streets – opened before us. Right in the middle of it, a living shadow was fighting back a group of… things.

Mere lengths away from me stood semi-corporeal beings loosely resembling equines, though not completely. They must have been ponies once, but now, because of horrifying tumors that were covering those parts of their bodies which weren’t semi-transparent, I couldn’t tell if they were pegasi, unicorns or earth ponies. I couldn’t even discern if they were mares or stallions. Their bodies were either spectral or deformed beyond recognition, and it didn’t take me long to understand what had twisted them. Shards of arcanium were lodged into the discolored flesh, eerily glistening under unnatural moonlight.

It took me a few moments to realize that the shadow amongst those abominations was, in fact, Trixie. Strangely, she looked ragged – this place must have been affecting her just as well. But more confusing was that she was apparently having trouble winning the fight, despite how deadly her power was before. Surrounded by the ribbons of inky darkness, she was using them to merely rip out hoof-fuls of sand and dust from the ground and fling them at the five abominations surrounding her. However, it made sense in retrospect – they were full of arcanium, even their hairless skin glistened with the trademark colors. Trixie could do nothing to them.

With those monstrosities circling her, I seemed to arrive right on time – Trixie had no way to escape without risking being caught by one of them. Though Trixie was nearly invulnerable, I was sure that being touched by those creatures would do her no good. It also seemed that she couldn’t even fly away in her weakened state; not without coming in contact with one of the abominations.

Frantically whipping my head around, I tried to come up with a way to help Trixie out of her situation – I didn’t want to directly use my magic on any of those things, fearing how it could interact with arcanium. However, there was no reason I couldn’t use my magic on the objects surrounding me. Planting my hooves in the earth I concentrated on a large slab of bricks still held together by mortar and levitated it from a mound of debris, sending crumbling stones and rotting wood scattering everywhere. While it wasn’t that hard to levitate such a large object (I had to levitate an Ursa Minor once, after all), the problem was in giving it enough velocity to become an improvised projectile and in operating it without smashing it into anything.

Before the torn away part of building became a weapon in my hold, I froze in indecision. A mass of stone this large would easily pulverize flesh and break bones, potentially resulting in fatal injuries. Those abominable monstrosities didn’t seem to have any consciousness left in them, only the most basic of instincts guiding them through their wretched preternatural existence. But they were still ponies, and I was about to likely murder them, with my improvised weapon being so devastating. Was I really going to do that?

But then I remembered how I had attacked the rapists in the Tunnels, leaving at least one of them heavily wounded, his fate unknown to me. Back then I didn’t contemplate my actions, I just defended those who could not defend themselves. It was no different now, right?

Like a gigantic pendulum I swung the piece of wall through the air, crashing it into the abominations’ sides, sending them flying through the air and into the surrounding ruins.

As I predicted, their bodies scrunched and squelched on the impact, leaving arcs of black ichor raining down on the ash and dust. I winced every time the mass of rubble collided with their disfigured frames. Even though they had no understanding of what was happening, somehow that made it worse.

All that time, the face of the young and innocent Twilight Sparkle was in my mind. She wouldn’t have done that. We weren’t the same pony. Yet I was sure I was Twilight Sparkle.

Finally, the last of those creatures was standing before me, as it had diverted its attention from Trixie and was closing on me. It was too far away from the ruins to throw it there with the rocks floating in my magic. I hesitated once again, but with the monstrosity being mere steps away from me I had no choice left but to act. The piece of wall soared up in the sky; turning away from the eyeless muzzle, I let go of the stone.

For a second there was no sound as gravity was at work. Then there was a wet thud accompanied by the snap of bones and thick drops of something sprayed on my metal cheek. I couldn’t bear to look at what had I done, but in the corner of my eye I saw a puddle of dark blood nearing my hooves. Shuddering with horror, I took a hasty step back.

After the darkness and debris swallowed those disfigured beings I waited for about a minute, concerned that they might return. And it was also to calm myself down. As nothing emerged from the shadows, I carefully approached Trixie, making a wide circle to avoid the motionless body.

The last time we talked, things didn’t go so well. Judging by how she sat with her back turned to me, the pain I had caused with my words still resonated in her heart.

As I came closer to her slumped form I noticed what was making her look so bizarre, and it made me frown deeply. There was no mistake now – she had two outlines, as if it wasn’t one, but two living shadows and they were different. Was this how her magic worked or was it something more morbid?

Bewildered and uncertain both of how to proceed and if I should even come closer to Trixie, I stopped a few steps away. She half-turned her head and looked at me for a few moments before she spoke.

“I’m surprised you decided to save me,” she grumbled. That was supposed to sound like her snapping at me, but all the venom she was trying to put into her voice was replaced with genuine pain.

“What do you mean?” I was taken aback by both what she said and how deeply hurt she sounded. “You’re my friend!”

“Are you sure I’m not just another monster to you like those?” Trixie accompanied her bitter words with a wide swipe of her hoof, supposed to motion at the arcanium abominations now absent or… dead.

I pursed my lips. Just because she took my silence as a confirmation to her question didn’t mean she was right and I saw her only as monster. But… I remembered my feelings towards her when I saw her true form up close for the first time. That urge to either attack her or run away.

It still didn’t mean she was only a monster to me.

“Trixie, I’m sor–”

“Don’t lie to me!” She angrily snapped, swiftly turning to look right into my eyes, but I cast my gaze away. “What’s different, Twilight? You accepted me five hundred years ago, but you can’t even look at me now.” There was so much desperation in her voice, so much pain mixed with confusion.

“I…” I uncertainly began trying to untangle my own feelings.

“Have you been treating me like a friend just because I told you we were friends once?” Trixie almost screamed at me. I involuntarily took a step back, but not because of the volume of her voice. It was the accusation which struck me.

The memory of how I met her in that weird temple resurfaced in my mind. I barely recognized her, I barely remembered her even as a boasting showmare. If she had never told me how we spent years working together then she would remain the same nopony for me. So actually...

“...Yes.” It was Trixie’s turn to stumble back as if I hit her. “I never was the Twilight who knew you.”

Trixie was looking at me in shock, her mouth slightly agape and a sudden thought occurred at me. Why exactly did ‘I’ accept her as a friend in the past if I couldn’t do it now? Was it ‘my’ depression-induced indifference towards everypony and everything which made me close my eyes to the fact that Trixie was a witch from the Coven? Had ‘I’ even known that?

“And you are not the same pony that Twilight knew,” I loudly stated, taking a step towards Trixie. “You are hiding things – terrible things!”

“I regret it!” Trixie instantly cried out, her voice quivering with tears she wanted to, but couldn’t, shed. “I regret it every day, every moment of my cursed life! I regret that I joined the Coven!”

For a moment my rising anger was threatened to be snuffed out by pity. Not only did she sound genuine, but from what I had seen I knew she was using her magic for good. But what about the time when she hadn’t? I read the reports from the frontline and there was a very good reason why everything went into creating an armored suit to withstand the Coven’s spells.

“You were a part of the most vile magic organisation that ever existed, which killed thousands of ponies in the most atrocious ways!” I shouted back at her. The only thing she didn’t do was destroying one of the major cities, since she was there when King Sombra was finally killed, but I wasn’t sure, even of that. No amount of time acting as vigilante could erase genocide from anypony’s record.

“I never killed a pony! Not as a part of the Coven!” Trixie retorted in desperation and at that very moment the second outline of her body almost tore itself away from her body in a sudden jerk. Making me and Flower, who was silent all that exchange, audibly gasp.

It was a young-looking unicorn mare I couldn’t recognize, with a mane-do similar to mine, but with more streaks in it. Her muzzle was contorted in apparent agony and… protest? The apparition quickly returned to Trixie’s body, becoming but a tumultuous outline once again.

I remembered how Trixie took shadows from the objects back at the crash site. Had she done the same with a pony? What would happen to a pony when their shadow was stolen?

“Whose shadow is that?” I asked with a deep frown. I took a step back and used my hoof to bring Tin Flower closer to me, though it was barely needed: the little filly clutched my side, shaking. “What have you done?”

“Her…” Trixie visage was a barely comprehensible mix of guilt, turmoil and fear. “..it was an accident…” she mumbled weakly, as my expression hardened further. “...she tried to destroy Canterlot… I had no choice...”

I had already seen her kill without hesitation, turning ponies and griffins into ashes. It could be called self-defense in both cases, but was it always that way? Who was she to pass verdicts of death and life?

I couldn’t rely on five hundred year old memories. I lived in the present, and right now I was looking at nothing less than a war criminal who was allowed to both roam without justice and dispense judgement on her own. In truth she was a typical part of Canterlot, as much as everything else in that fallen city.

Trixie must have seen that in my eyes as she darted forward to me, keeping low and looking even smaller than before.

“Twilight, I have changed,” she pleaded, almost on her knees. “I was doing everything to make up for the things I’ve done.” Our eyes met. “Please, Twilight, don’t I have the right to a second chance?”

Failing to choose any expression but a cold mask of passionlessness, I regarded her for a few long moments.

It wasn’t my place to judge her. Rainbow seemed to be more than fine with Trixie’s deeds, but she was a representative of the Swarm, no matter what she thought. Ironically, it would be Princess Luna who should be the proper station to decide Trixie’s fate. I wondered if she was aware of that.

There was only one thing I could and should say. Was Trixie my friend?

No.

There was no reason for it. I barely knew her, and the things I did know were nothing but repulsive in the end. However, I couldn’t just leave her here, nor dismiss her help. If I were talking of justice and making her answer for her crimes, bringing her to Princess Luna would be a start.

I glanced at Tin Flower, and she answered me with a confused look. It wasn’t hard to imagine how strange that conversation must have been for her. But at least it gave her time to regain her strength.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said, both to Flower and Trixie.

After taking only one step forward I realized that I actually had no idea where I was going. Hayseed Swamp was nowhere to be seen and I didn’t check the magic around for ley lines. Frowning, I turned to Trixie who stood behind me, dejectedly looking at the ground. Regardless what her deeds were, right now she was a prisoner of this place just like me and Flower. And more importantly she might have an idea what was wrong with it.

“Trixie, what is happening here?” I asked and closed my eyes, concentrating on the arcane workings of my surroundings.

She hesitated with the answer and I couldn’t blame her – it was no simple inquiry.

“You know there are only seven Thunderspires in Canterlot, right?” She finally answered with a question of her own, her voice still a bit shaky with the aftershock of our confrontation.

“Yes, one was blown up by the Pink Butterflies.” It was one of the many things I learned from the fillies shortly after I woke up, but still remembered clearly. That knowledge became even more grim when I saw a Thunderspire up close – to destroy something like that, a lot of explosives were needed… and hate. But what did that have to do with our predicament?

“When it happened, the arcanium tip fell on the ground and shattered, creating a massive zone full of magic distortion, now called the Rupture,” Trixie explained in a gravelly voice.

Shocked, I opened my eyes and was met with the sight of Tin Flower who perked up at the last word, “Oh, I’ve heard about that! Ponies say it is like…“ Her voice trailed off as she paled, which was quite a feat considering both her dirtiness and the poor lighting. “...a death trap,” she mumbled worryingly.

Arcanium was a potent metal, but as much as it was useful in its uniqueness, it was also extremely dangerous. Unrefined arcanium was a volatile substance, wildly reacting to any magic, and after being processed it was still something to be careful around. Even ‘deaf’ arcanium was unsafe due to the horrible untreatable wounds it could inflict. The tips of the Thunderspires… they were made of tons of arcanium. I dared not imagine what was inside that ‘Rupture’. Canterlot was lucky not to be wiped out entirely.

“I have barely been there, but this city looks like the same thing happened here,” Trixie grimly commented, sounding a tiny bit annoyed at being interrupted by Flower.

Unfortunately, I was inclined to agree with Trixie even though I had yet to see the Rupture myself (not that I was eager to). The everpresent sheen of arcanium and violently ruptured ley lines couldn’t be explained by anything else. However, the questions of how such a substantial amount of arcanium ended up in this place and what we could expect still lingered, along with the most important one:

“How can we get out of this place?”

“We just walk, there is nothing else we can do.” Trixie heavily sighed, then added in concerned tone, “But what about the others?”

“I want to take Flower out of this city first and then return for them,” I recited to Trixie, concentrating on the ley lines once again.

This time I tried to expand my magic as far as possible, probing around in attempts to find a familiar pattern, but to no avail. We were as lost as we could be. At this point I was just stretching my senses, looking for the least dangerous path. It was then that I felt it – not an anomaly flaring across the ravaged arcane landscape, but a spark of magic, distant and weak. It was somepony casting a spell! It could be one of those abominations, but it could also be Red Wire.

It was a somewhat hard decision to make. I didn’t want to spend more time than needed in this place and even less did I want Flower to stay with me – any moment we could run into those arcanium monstrosities, not to mention the anomalies. But we had no direction to follow. Having a chance to find Red Wire or the others was better than wandering around aimlessly, and Wire shouldn’t be in Dodge City either.

Turning to where that flicker was, I motioned to Trixie and Flower with my hoof to follow as I stepped into the ruins. Knowing that the path ahead was more or less clear, I moved swiftly – if it indeed was Wire who cast that spell, there was hardly any time to lose.

As we weaved our path through the debris I began to note that our surroundings were changing in quite a disturbing way. Shards of glass and stone hovered, frozen in the air, stubbornly refusing to abide by gravity and find their rest on the glittering arcanium dust. Specks and flakes of that malignant metal were strewn all over the ground amid ash and… bones. At some point even larger objects began to appear hung high by invisible strings in glimmering mist – fragments of walls and roofs, even a badly damaged freight train car. It was as if, for them, time had stopped when they were torn from their original places by a powerful explosion.

As we passed under that twisted car, I heard muffled yells ahead of us, followed by flashes of golden magic faintly lighting up the surreal ruins in the sky.

We almost galloped out of the decrepit street. In front of us sprawled the reason for both the name and existence of the city: the enormous junction of railroads.

As far as I could see railways endlessly stretched away, though that was to be expected. The weird aspect of that sight was in the railroads not converging together into only a few lines, but going on and on, appearing like an infinite rail station, with dozens of intertwining rails covering all the ground. In the distance, the webwork of steel and wooden paths spread even further, ignoring any logic. Reality itself appeared to be cracked, splitting like a broken mirror. In those twisted misaligned images the railways continued, lost in the horizon which I couldn’t tell from the sky sometimes – they literally melded into one surreal landscape.

The metal rails weren't consistent in their appearance either. In some instances the rails were pristine, shining under the unnatural starlight as if they were in active use, polished by train wheels over and over. But there were also rails that were deteriorating, with clouds of rust suspended in the air around them.

Where the railroads were, the trains followed, but on this station they seemed to rebel from the rule of the steel tracks. That didn’t mean that most of them went off the rails (though many did), no, they also hovered in the air, frozen in a way similar to many other objects around.

The carriages were mostly belonging to freight trains; only a few passenger cars could be seen, gazing back at me with dark, empty windows. It was miraculous that in some of them the glass remained unshattered, making those train cars stand out in their almost untouched condition. What was incredibly strange and worrying was that the next carriage could be sagging as if melted or collapsing into itself from the rust which ate its way through the warped hull.

With each step we were going deeper into the railyard, which I didn’t like in the slightest, but it was from where the sounds were coming. Past the remains of a rotting cargo carriage I saw silhouettes moving. A sudden sparkle of sunlight illuminated a filly unicorn and a pegasus trapped by shambling deformed equines in an alleyway formed by two deteriorating train cars. Sharp shards of arcanium were lodged into their distended corpses and dimly reflected that weak beacon of desperation in the void of the cursed night.

As I raced towards the battle destined to be lost, my mind raced as well – I was the only one who could turn the tide of it, but I was yet to figure out how. I could no longer use the same tactic I applied to the abominations that threatened Trixie, as the space between the carriages where Wire and Delight were having their last stand was too cramped for swinging any object of considerable size. Not to mention that there were no such objects, unless I lifted a whole carriage (which would be absolutely ridiculous) or started to tear one apart.

I skidded to a stop at one end of the narrow space, right behind the pack of monstrosities trapping the girls. They were too busy fending off the onslaught of withered terrors to notice me or Flower and Trixie who were quick to catch up. A quick glance at them showed that while they were eager to help our trapped friends, they had no idea how to.

Desperation began to well inside of me. Frantic, I tried to tug on rails or crossties, but the former refused to obey my will and the latter crumbled to dust. Still fearing to risk using magic on those abominations, I reached out around me, hoping to find purchase in sand and ashes, but nothing except bones were buried inside, and I couldn’t wield those effectively against the hardened ulcerated pelts of those once ponies.

Red Wire finally took notice of us and cried for help, her words becoming a yelp of panic as one of the beasts lunged at her, forcing the filly to shoot a harmless whirl of sparks into its eyes, giving her a moment to dodge back. She bumped into Delight, who was busy fending off the monstrosities with a broken shovel.

The circle of abominations was closing on them. A couple of those wretched beings changed their course, turning to us. The plan to distract those monstrosities died in my mind almost as soon as it was born: there was no time to draw their attention, and I would have to deal with them later, which could become an even bigger issue.

The situation was nothing but hopeless. I realized that my magic was still reaching out probing the surroundings; however, there was only death and arcanium. Arcanium… An insane thought crawled into my mind. There was so much of it around me that it would take me mere seconds to gather enough for a decent-sized weapon and then ‘deafen’ it, making it negate and disrupt any magic. It was a crazy idea, but the only one I had.

Every flake, every mote and even chunk of arcanium in my vicinity began to float towards me as I willed it. I moved them as hastily as I could, but still carefully, not daring to funnel too much magic into that capricious metal. The cloud of arcanium in front of my eyes took the form of a plank, and then I concentrated my magic on it, remembering the spells and months of practice at the RCRC, where I learned the art of arcane forging. The arcanium became soft and liquified, taking the form of a flimsy blade – I had never made a weapon before. I heard Tin Flower gasp behind me, obviously impressed by my skill, but I had to return all my attention to the sword I was making as it began to shake in my hold, sensitive to the slightest change in my concentration.

It was going to be sloppy work, but I had no time to do anything beyond forge a blade, and a basic one at that. It felt like I had already spent an eternity gathering and molding arcanium, but in fact less than a minute passed. It would be a wonder if that sword–no, dagger–didn’t fall apart as soon as I tried to use it.

Agonizingly long seconds passed as the metal was solidifying and above its warping surface I was seeing a mob of creatures made from ponies with the use of the same material amassing around my friends.

Finally, the blade felt more or less hard, but that was only half of the work done – it had to be ‘deafened’ now. With the right approach, a piece of arcanium can be severed from the arcane field, becoming an antithesis of magic.

I sensed the magical field around the dagger and used my magic to cut it off. With each miniature ley line plucked away, the feeling of a cold void inside the freshly forged weapon grew, until only the handle held traces of magic, enough to wield that hollow blade.

After what felt like an eternity, I at last had the means to help Wire and Delight, and just in time it seemed – their cries rang through the air: panicked obscenities coming from the filly and yelps of awkward battle from the pegasus.

The dagger floating in my hold, I rushed in their direction, already calculating my strikes. It was no weapon of immense power suitable for a frontal confrontation, nor was I a seasoned fighter, but it was razor-sharp – enough to cut tendons in the legs, incapacitating those beasts as they moved slowly enough to be manageable targets for me.

I clumsily danced around those abominations, thrusting the dagger at their legs, missing or landing glancing blows more often than finding my mark. But when I did, I practically mowed those creatures down. The withered skin and sinew seemed to be melting under the touch of the blade’s edge, rivulets of dark ichor sprouting from the deep cuts.

My onslaught on the back of the mob finally got their attention, at least partly, diverting it from Wire and Del. Soon enough, as a considerable amount of bodies were wriggling on the ground futilely trying to stand on their damaged limbs, there was an opening wide enough for the filly and pegasus to escape. As they rushed past me, I almost stumbled, shocked by their appearance.

Delight’s left blind side was covered in bite marks, many of them were bad enough to be noticeably bleeding, including one at the base of her wing, which was preventing her from flying. Her jaws were tight around the greyed wooden handle of a broken, yet still sharp, shovel which she was using as an improvised weapon. Judging by the dried out blood on her muzzle and cheeks she had suffered the anomalies as well. She looked horrible, covered in grime and bruises in addition to her wounds, almost making it impossible to discern her original color if not for her wings.

Red Wire was even worse for wear. She didn’t have as many wounds as Delight, but the one she had was making me shudder in sympathy. Her artificial eye was completely destroyed. Its metal casing was gone, revealing an almost empty eye socket, save for a few cables still poking out of it. Blood, soot and oil marred her face, perpetually grimacing in pain.

I returned my attention to the arcanium abominations in front of me and after a few unsuccessful attempts I managed to bring them down. However, many more, dozens of them were already shambling in my direction. With all their attention now focused on me it wouldn’t take them very long to overwhelm me and my flimsy weapon, not to mention it seemed that there were more and more coming from the space between the carriages and from the shadows of the surrounding wrecked train cars. So I turned away from them.

A fair distance away from the battle the girls gathered together with Trixie awkwardly standing a bit afar. Flower was fussing over Wire’s broken artificial eye, while Delight was trying to bandage her wounds with shreds of the rags she was wearing. With worry I noted that none of them had their saddlebags on.

Catching up with them, I instantly turned back to look at the mob of former Dodge City dwellers. They didn’t lose their interest in me, and it wouldn’t take them long to reach us, but more importantly they cut us off from where came from. We had to move.

I returned my eyes to the girls and they looked back at me with expectation – it was up to me to get them out of here. The problem was, I still had no idea in what direction we should be moving. It was logical to assume that travelling by one of those railroads could lead us out of the city if not for the fact that said railroads had long abandoned any logic themselves. With the abominations closing on us I was left no choice but to press forward.

We were making our way through the junction of railroads, and I started to regret plunging ourselves into it, since the webwork of tracks seemed to be endless.

It was impossible to predict the way ahead of us because of the carriages. Sometimes we had to walk around entire trains, as we couldn’t climb over or under them. The more concerning thing, however, was the increasing amount of arcanium – it wasn’t just motes or flakes anymore, but large shards menacingly hovering in the air. If I wanted I could even grab one of them and it would be a direct upgrade to my modest weapon, but they could react on my magic unpredictably. Furthermore, I avoided coming near them and often it caused us to make additional detours around the areas with too many slivers. On top of that, we kept running into arcanium abominations. Either I or Delight, who had recovered enough, would take care of them, but it was still taking our time.

And while all of that was quite worrying, what troubled me the most was the magic. I was pausing every so often to check on the ley lines in the beginning, but as we were getting deeper they were becoming less and less pronounced, becoming one huge distortion. My horn was constantly aching with a pulsing pain and the dagger was wobbling threateningly in my magic. Red Wire had the same complaints, on top of being unable to use any spells at all. In a few areas the distortion of magic was too powerful, affecting the girls, giving them nosebleeds, and Trixie, almost making her fight her second shadow. I was getting a splitting headache and multiple warnings about the condition of my crystals. Needless to say, we had to backtrack and find another way.

We were at the place where reality and anomalies had no boundary: the sky above us was constantly changing, appearing like an afternoon, sunset or midnight or something in between with the still invisible sun and moon; our surroundings were switching states between how the junction was around the time I visited it and ashes mixed with the rusted ruins of its future. At some point I was rather shocked with what I saw: what I took for a misplaced shadow on the ground was in fact a tear right into the night itself. From a hole in the earth, stars and nebulas gazed indifferently at us as the coldness of the void breathed through a gate to the cosmos.

It felt like we spent hours in that place – I couldn’t tell the truth because my clock turned off, showing me a tiny error message. So it was quite unexpected when the lost trains and railroads leading to nowhere finally came to an abrupt end. However, it was no pleasant surprise.

I struggled to comprehend the sight in front of me, for it hurt to even look at what I was seeing. The only thing I was sure of was that I was witnessing the rotten heart of Dodge City, ripping it apart which each malignant beat. It was like looking into an ever shifting broken kaleidoscope and trying to make sense of it. Day and night, twilight and dawn, past and present flowing from and into each other and sprinkled on top with gaping holes into nothingness and space. Huge slivers of arcanium, larger than a pony, were forever stuck in the air, all of them pointing at the center of that phantasmagory. I couldn’t even take a direct look at what was there, for my eyes were becoming filled with static. The only thing I could see and sense were protuberances of magic coming out from it, but those arcane energies were somehow wrong in a way I struggled to understand. It was as if the magic was... feral.

The girls could barely stand on their hooves, and I was so distracted by that warping refracting chaos that we failed to notice part of it moving in our direction until it was almost too late.

The huge hulk of... something terrifying lunged at us from the swirling mayhem of reality. I could barely make out the details of it and what I saw barely made any sense. The only thing I was able to do was use my magic and yank my company out of harm’s way, resulting in searing pain shooting through my horn.

We fell on the ground as the place where we were mere moments ago became an explosion of sand and arcanium. Dazed, I turned to look back. From the cloud of dust the most terrifying being I had ever seen was slowly rising. With a detached macabre clarity I realized that I was looking at something like a draconequus, but turned inside out.

It was a constantly shifting mass of distorted flesh, rotting and yet still living, clinging to the deformed bones and long sharp shards of arcanium, both seamlessly lodged deep into that congestion of decaying tissue. With rising horror I realized that once it had been many creatures – a single featherless pegasus wing stuck out of that mass, twitching miserably; an array of unicorn horns branching with tumorous growths; the carcass of some very large creature, a former resident of Hayseed Swamps, served as a foundation for that entire unnatural being, its long jagged ribs protruding from the distended skin towards the sky; from amidst all that putridness the bare skull of a buffalo gazed at me with empty sockets. Under the flaps of the torn discolored pelt hanging and swinging freely something dark roiled, making the entire abominable amalgam shudder and move. Inside the shaking bloated clusters of boils hanging from the withered sinews, dark forms moved, and I somehow knew it was seeing us.

It was a sight so horrid, I was paralyzed, unable to tear my gaze from the towering form even as it began to shamble towards us, wobbling madly, but gaining speed at a frightening pace.

Something heavy and metal struck my head hard enough to make it ring. I instantly turned in the direction the blow came from – Tin Flower was looking at me with eyes wide from utter terror. Only now I realized that somepony was screaming my name. I whipped my head around – Delight was holding me by the withers with her hooves and desperately tugging.

We had to run!

Scrambling on my hooves, skidding on the deep ashes and sand, I made off after the girls. We dashed along the curving line of trains and their wreckages with no direction in mind other than away from that thing. I could feel its heavy thuds, I could hear the squelching of flesh and bloodcurdling moans and screeches coming from many mouths. As I ran I unstrapped the saddlebags – I almost hesitated doing that since I was the last one with supplies, but the thing was only coming closer and, deep inside, I knew that if it were to get me I wouldn’t die I would become part of it.

With each step, desperation was claiming me. I could see that the girls were slowing down – they were galloping on fumes and adrenaline, they had no energy to begin with. We would have to face that monstrosity at some point, but I couldn’t imagine a single way we could survive it. I dropped my dagger the moment it attacked us, but it would have made no difference anyway. Trixie could do nothing to that abomination either since it was infused with arcanium. We were doomed.

As the girls sharply yelled in front of me, breaking me out of my reverie, I looked forward only to see that our fate was about to meet us. Ahead of us, trains were heaped into a small mountain with its top diffusing itself into the sky with floating carriages. It was protruding into the unstable centre of the city, blinking in and out of an anomaly. And there was no obvious way in the other direction. It was a dead end. It was our end.

I came to a screeching halt, turning around to face the manifestation of the city’s malignancy. Behind me I heard screams and hoped that the girls would be smart enough to use the precious moments I was gifting them to find some escape.

For its monstrous size the abomination moved extremely fast and it would take it mere seconds reach me. Bracing myself, I began to funnel all my magic into my horn despite the searing pain. There was no way to predict how that much arcanium would react to a direct blast, but I wasn’t going to survive any other way. When the thing was only a few body lengths away from me I released the spell.

The mass of putrid flesh exploded in a fountain of fire and blood, stumbling back, stopped in its inevitable onslaught. A mortifying wail sounding like it came from thousands of throats cut the air. But it was too early for exultation, because I knew – I missed.

Swirling my head around I saw two things: Rainbow Dash rocketing across the ever-changing sky, the turbine of her suit roaring fiercely and guns smoking; and from behind Tin Flower was closing on me at high velocity. Before I could momentarily rejoice at Rainbow’s timely appearance, the filly heavily crashed into my shoulder and sent me spinning along with her, making us both turn to the abomination only to see it surging at us.

With deafening thunder cracks echoing in the perpetually crumbling realities around us, Rainbow’s guns fired, tearing into the rotting hulk with enough force to knock the monstrosity from its deadly course.

A twisted skinless decaying limb with a warped claw of bone and arcanium fused together whooshed right above us – a strike that would have ended our lives if not for Rainbow Dash.

I grabbed Flower, who was right in front of me now, and attempted to drag her back, when I saw a ghostly spectre of the limb that just passed above us follow its corporeal counterpart. To my utter horror I realized that with the creature falling back it was now striking lower. With all the strength I had, I desperately tried to move Flower from its path, but my hooves were sinking into the treacherous sand as I failed to move her. She yelped quietly when the shadowy claw passed right through her and became limp in my hooves.

I cried out in rage and desperation, but the sound of my voice was drowned out by the agonizing howl of the abomination as Rainbow fired at it again. However, this time it didn’t stumble back, instead it rushed towards me in fury, using its claw to propel itself forward. I had mere seconds to draw upon all the magic I had, enveloping everypony in it.

From all the spells I knew there was only one that could help us in that situation, but it would still be a wild shot if not outright suicide. I had never teleported so many ponies at once. Because the desert before was a featureless waste, I couldn’t come up with a location that would be within reach of my ability, and I couldn’t warp somewhere inside the city because of the anomalies constantly changing it. Finally, I had no idea how it would interact with my new body, and I would only have one chance to find out.

Simply wishing to get out of there, I finished the spell.

Author's Notes:
Another chapter to go.
Special thanks to IAmApe who helped to make it better in more ways than just fixing grammar.
There is a chance that the next chapter will be posted later than three weeks and the same may apply to all the chapters left. Speaking of which:
Chapter 15 ready and awaits editing.
Chapter 16 is 90% ready, needs only one dialogue re-written a bit. Then editing.
Chapter 17 is in the works with about 20-25% of it done.
Since there is not that much of the story left to tell, it is much easier to say now how many chapters will be posted. The story will end on chapter 21 followed by a short epilogue. Of course, knowing me, there is a chance that there may be 22-23 chapeters in total.
I'm sure I will finish writing the story by the end of this year, but it may take a bit longer to post the remaining chapters due to the editing process taking a fair emount of time.
Aftersound Project Discord server - it's a little community dedicated to discussion of the story and whatnot. Everyone is welcome to join.
Pony Tales, a quite welcoming place dedicated to disscussing and working on many great stories (now including Aftersound). I think you may also find it interesting.
If you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know.
I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.
Stay awesome.

Chapter 15 – Lunacy

Aftersound

=================================

Written by:

Flutterfinar & Geka

Preread and edited by:

Cover art done by:

=================================

Lunacy

====================

Darkness.

A void without light, sound or smell met me as I opened my eyes. However, it didn’t last for long. Ever so slowly my senses began to return to me. Apparently I was lying on something rough but easily yielding to my slightest movements, and covered with… a blanket?

Sand. I was half-buried in the sand, with my face in it. That explained why I couldn’t see a thing. I actually could hear, but not much more than the faint murmur of the chilly wind and the susurrous whisper of the sandy soil shifting under my body.

Groggily and gingerly I began to rise to my front hooves, rivulets of grit raining from the places between and under my plates, where the flesh of the desert had found its new home. Absentmindedly I noted that it was quite a problem – the sand most likely got into my joints.

Now that I could see, not much changed for me. It certainly wasn’t dark anymore; I was witnessing either a dawn or sunset with the sun absent from the sky. But other than that I appeared to be in the middle of nowhere, since nothing but an endless sea of orange sand stretched away from me. How did I end up here? I strained my mind trying to find my last memory. I remembered using a teleportation spell...

The memories of the events that transpired right before I woke up rushed into my mind, hitting me like an anvil. Tin Flower! She was badly hurt!

As I whipped my head around, my neck screeched with the dying screams of sand grains being ground inside of it, but I didn’t care. My eyes instantly caught sight of Delight sprawled on the ground, her wings outstretched, covering the dirty soil like two great sheets of snow. She was alive judging by the rise and fall of her chest, sending twirls of dust away from her nostrils. Not so far away from her, Red Wire weakly stirred, half-submerged in the sand – the filly was waking up from being knocked out. A bit afar a mound of pitch blackness lay half-buried, turning her surroundings into a fine silt to be carried away by the mellow breeze. I couldn’t see Rainbow anywhere, but that was mostly because my eyes fell on the frighteningly still form of Tin Flower.

Stumbling, with my hooves sinking into the soft soil, I rushed to her like a miniature sandstorm. A few unbearably long seconds later I was standing over Flower, panic rising inside of me as I could see no signs of life. The vitals checking spell, right!

As the purple aura enveloped her body I was looking for any injuries, but saw none at all, small scratches and bruises notwithstanding. Finally, with the help of my magic I was able to tell if Flower was even alive – she was, but barely. Her heartbeat was slow and weak, as well as her breathing. She was dangerously close to a comatose state, however I had no idea why: the spell couldn’t find any physical damage at all, making me confused to the point that I was becoming driven mad with worry.

The sound of sand softly scrunching under hooves came from behind me. Briefly turning, I caught sight of Red Wire limping towards me, lame on her hind left leg. Trixie, who was probably looking the best of all of us, was following her like the shadow she was. Further beyond, Delight was shaking grit out of her mane and feathers. I even saw Rainbow Dash who was doing the same, but with her armor. Apparently the reason why I didn’t notice Rainbow at first was her being sunk too deep in the sand.

The moment Red Wire’s gaze fell on Flower’s motionless body, her expression became full of worry, soon mirrored by Trixie as they both came closer.

“Is she alright?” Wire asked, in a hoarse voice full of concern.

I glanced at Flower and turned back to the red-maned filly, shaking my head sadly. As her expression sombered, I forced myself to speak, remembering how Flower was struck by the spectral claw. “It must be a magic injury.”

While I had a vast knowledge of arcane arts, I wasn’t a qualified medic by any means. I knew a basic mending spell, I could even stitch a cut with magic, not to mention providing first aid in non-arcane ways. But such thing as a magic injury, the most grievous and difficult to treat type, was far beyond my ability. So, hanging my head, I whispered, holding back a sob, “There is nothing I can do.”

Wire turned her head to Trixie in a silent question, but the shadowy mare shook her head dejectedly and spoke, her voice heavy with shame, “That is not how my magic works.”

I watched as Wire, her face desperate, looked between me and Trixie, both of us avoiding meeting her eye, full of pain. A single tear rolled down her cheek, but then she clenched her jaw and frowned.

“We are going to find Princess Luna, right?” she more stated than asked. Though I nodded to Wire I shared almost none of her enthusiasm. “The Princesses were the most powerful mages, she will heal Flower,” Wire asserted fiercely as if it was a history already written down.

I wished I was so sure – we had no idea what we were going to find in the Badlands, our demise was an outcome as possible as any other. But first, we didn’t even know where we ended up or if Tin Flower would make it to the Badlands in her state. However, if we were lucky indeed, Princess Luna was our only chance to save Flower.

Speaking of our location – when Wire was dealing with her grief, I noticed Rainbow checking on her map. Now, along with Delight, she was heading in our direction. While Delight’s eye grew wide and worried as she saw Flower, Rainbow gave the wounded filly a mere impassioned glance.

“A casualty?” she asked in a nonchalant voice, instantly making me bristle.

“She is still alive and needs help,” I almost growled back, but Rainbow didn’t flinch or react in any other way for that matter. Though, judging by the pause, she put some effort in choosing her next words.

“We have ended up a day’s march from the Badlands,” Rainbow levelly stated, making my eyes go wide from surprise.

We were incredibly lucky! Well at least in that aspect... It was amazing in the first place that I was able to teleport to a place I’d never been before and so far away with so many ponies – it was either the stress of the situation giving my spell more power than usual or all that arcanium dust amplifying my magic. Maybe even both. Although I didn’t have a concrete location in my mind when I released my teleportation spell, it must have been affected by my desire to get to the Badlands. It helped us to cut at least a couple of days of marching.

However, a frown took its place on my face a few moments later, despite the great news. I knew what Rainbow was implying – we were too far to turn back, though with her suit she could cover that distance in about a day if she wanted. Flower’s condition didn’t matter to her.

Turning my head around I barely saw the ochre peaks of the crags surrounding the Badlands on the horizon, but they were there, waiting for us. Behind me I saw nothing but a desolate desert, though I knew that in the unseen distance there was a death trap which had almost become our grave. In the east a dark green line between the sand and sky was reminding me of how vast the Hayseed marshes were. It was early in the morning, the break of dawn, so we could indeed reach the Badlands by nightfall. It sounded like a good plan, considering all the factors. On the other hoof, we had no choice but to remain stranded in the heart of the nothingness otherwise.

Anyhow, it seemed that Rainbow’s intent was only to inform to me, she wasn’t asking for my opinion. She was already passing food rations along with bottles of water to Wire and Del. With worry I noted how Rainbow’s saddlebags sagged after that – those were the last of our supplies. There was one glaring flaw in our plan which none of us dared to speak: at this point our journey wasn’t suggesting any way back to Canterlot if we failed to get Princess Luna. I realized that I didn’t want to think about it.

Wire and Delight basically devoured their share of food. For a moment I was surprised by their gusto, but then I realized that it was the first meal since our last camp shortly after we were attacked and both of them spent the entire night (or even more since the flow of time was bound to no logic in Dodge City) fighting and running. It was a concern on its own – I doubted that the brief time they spent unconscious counted as rest. But, again, we had no choice but to press on.

Right now I regretted my decision to go for Princess Luna more than ever. There was even a dark thought skittering on the edge of my mind: she had better make it worth all the effort.

Ever so carefully and gently I lowered Flower onto Delight’s back. After some thought I decided it would be better than letting her bounce on my metal spine.

Delight herself looked horrible. She used some of the water to wash her most serious and deepest wounds, but since the precious liquid was limited, it hardly changed anything. The rags covering her body were almost gone, acting as a poor or even potentially harmful substitute for bandages or to make bedding for Flower. Del might not need immediate help, but she needed medical attention very soon.

Unfortunately, Wire was no better. It was decided not to risk applying water to her damaged prosthetic, but it was still bleeding, albeit very weakly. As for now, half of her head was wrapped in the remaining rags to prevent any dirt from getting in her wound. It was the only serious injury she had, but it was extremely concerning. She needed to get back to Canterlot as soon as possible – no matter how good a mage Princess Luna was, an artificial eye would be beyond her.

Sporting almost black circles under their eyes, both girls were in dire need of rest, looking like they would fall from exhaustion any moment. Their faces were drawn by tiredness and hunger, and I suspected by the stress of the latest part of our journey. Once again I thought of it as a huge mistake.

There was only one thing I was grateful for. Despite the rising sun starting to shine brightly, unhindered by clouds, it wasn’t promising to turn the desert into a frying pan. The air was cold, contrasting with the meager warmth granted by the sunrays. Though, it was absolutely dry, so the concern of thirst wasn’t going away.

The thing I wasn’t grateful for, however, was the sand. It was coarse and rough, irritating and getting everywhere. But the worst was how it was giving up under my hooves. Fortunately, it was only my problem, since my body was the heaviest (Rainbow’s armor seemed to be enchanted, as the treacherous ground barely moved under her steps). Speaking of my long-suffering frame, the grit was beginning to itself known. I could feel it scraping my joints from inside, slowly but steadily wearing them down. After that thrice-damned journey I would have to undergo a capital maintenance if I didn’t want to fall apart in a literal way.

This time our procession had a different formation from before. Rainbow was leading now, steadily trotting towards the inevitable, almost cantering. The rest of us could barely keep up with her, so she would occasionally move quite ahead of us and was forced to wait, with her face bearing a dissatisfied frown, though she never commented on that. Trixie, despite being easily able to match Rainbow’s pace, wasn’t closely following her, keeping to us instead. And by us I mean Red Wire and Delight who were trudging in front of me in that order – I was at the end of the line, keeping my eye on Tin Flower, ready to catch her if something went wrong.

However, as time passed I realized that I had vastly underestimated Delight’s endurance. She had yet to stumble even once, despite her obvious weariness her gait was as steady as could be. Rainbow was right about the fabled pegasus stamina. Or perhaps it was due to Delight’s previous occupation, but that was something Flower would joke about, and I myself preferred Rainbow’s version.

Anyhow, with my worry about Del being overencumbered by Tin Flower dissipating, I began to pay attention to the others, namely Wire who was slowly drifting towards Trixie. They were yet to talk, but I was sure I would hear their words – I wasn’t that far behind, and the wind was carrying dust into my face. It didn’t take the red-maned filly long to catch her breath as she evened with Trixie and I heard her speak.

“Miss Lulamoon…” Wire began in that respectful and timid tone which instantly betrayed her intentions. Slowly, I began to speed up, because I knew where that conversation was about to go.

“You can call me Trixie, Wire,” Trixie wearily interrupted her. I couldn’t tell if it was lack of sleep making her sound so or something else, like if the last conversation we had was still affecting her. “I’m not ‘Miss’ to anypony.”

Drawing a deep breath, Wire continued, “I wanted to ask you to teach me some of your spells.”

Trixie instantly shot me a wary, fearful even, look over her shoulder, followed by Wire glancing at me as well, but with an expression I couldn’t read. In the corner of my eye I noticed Del looking at me with concern.

So far only Tin Flower was aware that my stance towards Trixie had substantially shifted. However, it wasn’t changing anything about my intention to allow Wire learn from her. Yes, I was still reluctant, but I wasn’t backing out of my word, of which Trixie was yet to learn.

That meant I had some things to clear up.

“I’m allowing Wire learn dark magic, but only under my supervision,” I levelly stated to Trixie as I evened with her. As expected, that earned a disbelieving look from the shadowy mare. Knowing that it must be appearing as a display of utter hypocrisy for her, I elaborated, “She is going to learn it anyway, as you said. But I would prefer to make sure she knows the price.”

Ignoring the way Trixie winced, I turned to Red Wire, addressing her, “Though I don't think right now is the best time for that. You need to have some rest first. Practicing magic, dark or not, takes a higher toll than most ponies realize.”

But my words only ignited the fire of resolve in Wire’s eye.

“The sooner, the better,” she snapped with surprising conviction. “Maybe if I was able to do something back at that city, Flower wouldn’t have been hurt,” she added quietly and bitterly.

I looked at Wire with renewed respect. Behind all that animosity a good heart resided indeed. She genuinely wanted to learn dark magic to protect others.

“Well, I wasn’t going to teach you any spells anytime soon, anyway,” Trixie said with a sigh, visibly preparing to meet Wire’s disappointment.

“Why?” the filly asked incredulously, in an almost betrayed tone.

“Because it isn’t the spells that make dark arts dark,” Trixie patiently explained. I almost objected at her choice of words – ‘arts’, I wouldn’t call such vile practices that. But she got my attention, after all I knew literally nothing about dark magic and regardless of my disposition towards its use I was curious. “If it was as easy as just learning the right incantation or rune, every other unicorn would be a dark mage. It’s all about from where the energy to power those spells is drawn.”

She paused, letting her words to sink in. I was pleasantly surprised: instead of jumping to potentially dangerous training Trixie decided to go with theory first. It was a professional approach. Though, I grimly remembered where she had picked up such a practice and who her teacher was.

“Tell me, Wire,” Trixie continued, oblivious to my dark ponderings, “From where do you draw the magic to power your spells?” she asked, intently looking at the filly, to her horn in particular.

That unexpected question caught Wire so unaware she even stumbled, as she was gathering her thoughts to answer, “Uh… the air?” I barely resisted the urge to facehoof, Wire’s knowledge of magic approximated zero. It looked like Trixie had better start with the most basic conventional magic theory before moving on to something else. However, to my (and probably Trixie’s) relief, Wire corrected herself, “No, wait! It’s… ley lines… they come from the ground, right?” To my horror it sounded like it was really intended to be an actual question, though it was still better than her previous answer.

As much as that inquiry came as a surprise for Wire, the answer was just as unforeseen for Trixie. Like me, she expected Red Wire to have some semblance of understanding of how magic worked so she could teach her how it shouldn’t work. I was sure that despite the change in Trixie’s approach to that matter she still had solid knowledge of magic theory, but as seconds passed I could clearly see her struggling to put it in an eloquent and understandable form. Apparently, my help was in order.

“Yes and no,” I charitably replied to Wire and began to explain, “Those torrents of energy, the ley lines, indeed pierce the soil, but they don’t originate from it, but rather from somewhere much deeper – the center of the world.” It was something every unicorn should know; but evidently it wasn’t as important in modern Equestria, judging by Wire’s fascination. “A core of pure and raw arcanium resides there, but that is not what creates the ley lines, it only fuels them. It is Harmony, a great ancient enchantment enveloping the nexus, that equalizes its output and allows everypony to tap into the core’s immense power, not to mention it is what assigns cutie marks to ponies.”

That impromptu lecture brought back some good memories, and I would gladly go on and on, quite possibly for hours. However, it wasn’t the knowledge Wire sought (even if she needed it nevertheless in my opinion), so I glanced at Trixie. She didn’t look anywhere near cross with my interruption. As she met my gaze she gave a barely noticeable nod, both in gratitude and acknowledging that it was her turn to lead the lesson once again.

“Except, there are ways to access the core’s power tricking Harmony,” Trixie began, and I focused on her words, listening carefully. The things she was about to tell couldn’t be found in any books (well, unless they were bound in leather) and they would be as novel to me as to Wire. “Such methods are usually referred to as ‘dark magic’, though I don’t really think it is the proper name, because by that definition any practice of magic by anyone except ponies should be considered such as well. But nopony calls zebra alchemy or Saddle Arabian ritual dances dark.”

Trixie’s words made me blink. I wouldn’t say she turned the world upside down for me, but she incited me think, probably for the first time, about what exactly dark magic was and question my judgement on the matter. I started to realize that before, I had condemned those practices simply because of some particular cases, or rather, users, letting myself think that was all it was.

Looking at Red Wire, I saw how entranced she was by the lesson. Despite her initial lack of knowledge, there wasn’t even a hint of incomprehension in her eye – she was quickly learning. Wire’s attention didn’t go unnoticed by Trixie, and she, sounding more sure of herself, went on:

“The technique I use is derived from the combination of the dreamwalking used by Princess Luna and blood magic of the ram and goat septs,” she proclaimed with abandon, sounding even somewhat proud.

I couldn’t tell what it was in that sentence that almost made me trip over. Was it the fact that shadow weaving was based on a unique ability of one of the Princesses, knowledge likely stolen? Or the part about the atrocious practice of the northern warlocks, making me wonder with an increasing worry what exact elements went into the magic Trixie used?

I wasn’t the only one who was shocked by that. While the part about dreamwalking only spiked Red Wire’s interest, making her eye flare with curiosity, she was taken aback, scowling when she heard the mention of blood magic.

“Where did you learn that?” Wire asked with a clear tinge of worry in her voice. Considering that I had already heard more than once about the rams and goats operating in Canterlot, she could be more familiar than me with how horrible their magic was.

It was Trixie’s turn to stumble. Grimacing, she tried to come with an answer, fumbling with her words, “Er… I… It’s– ”

“Tell her the truth,” I simply said in a level voice. It wasn’t an order or a demand, but it still cut through the air, making Wire look at me, the concern on her face growing, and Trixie wince as if I had hit her.

“I learned shadow magic from its inventor…” her voice trailed off and she gave me a glance as if asking me to allow her to finish at that. I answered her with a hard stare. So, with a deep sigh she forced herself to whisper, “...King Sombra.”

Red Wire came to a dead stop and took a step back from Trixie, recoiling as if in disgust. It was relieving to see that the Ebony Warlock’s terrible deeds weren’t forgotten, but there had to be more to that, Wire’s reaction was still stronger than I had expected it to possibly be. And then I remembered: she mentioned that one of her ancestors fought in the Great War and fell victim to Sombra’s vile magic.

Yet, there was indecision on the bandaged filly’s face that made me watch her intently. She had to make a very important choice: betray her predecessor and let their sacrifice be for nothing as she carried on the legacy of King Sombra, or turn down Trixie’s offer.

Delight stopped at my side, shooting me a concerned look. She might not be actively participating in the whole exchange, but she must have heard it, and she cared for Wire from all I could tell. Even Rainbow paused in her unrelenting march and dispassionately observed us from afar.

Finally, Wire raised her eye from the ground at which she was intently staring for the past minute and regarded Trixie with an unreadable expression.

“Are there any other ways to cheat Harmony?” Wire simply asked, making Del raise her eyebrow and me hem in surprise. She didn’t give up on the idea of surpassing the limitations set on her by the Transference Paradox, and yet she wasn’t going to follow in Trixie’s steps.

“Yes,” Trixie replied after a short moment of silence as she was dealing with the filly’s choice – her reaction ranged somewhere between disappointment and confusion. “But I’m afraid I can teach you only a little of the theory, I can’t use any of them myself.”

Red Wire reservedly nodded to that and began to trot forward, prompting us all to resume our journey.

After about half an hour spent in somewhat awkward silence, Wire drifted to Trixie’s side once again and I began to hear the quiet murmur of conversation between them, but it was much different this time. It was mostly Wire asking questions and Trixie giving unsure, brief answers this time. It was apparent that Trixie’s knowledge outside of her field of expertise was quite limited indeed.

I barely paid attention to that, since there wasn’t much to supervise anymore and there was now a noticeable coldness in their interaction, leading me to believe that Wire had learned a much more valuable lesson today than she anticipated.

As I ended up by Delight’s side, I decided to check on Flower’s condition, and what I found was extremely concerning: it seemed that her vital signs were gradually diminishing, albeit slowly. Apparently the worry on my face was clear and explanatory enough for Delight to notice.

“You care about her…” Del murmured as if more to herself rather than addressing me. However, her next word caught me unguarded, “Why?”

“Well,” I spluttered as it was such an obvious question, “she is a just a filly, and she has put a lot of effort into helping me.” And yet I was beginning to understand that I was missing something, otherwise Delight wouldn’t have asked.

“But have you wondered why she does that?” Del pressed on, unsatisfied with my reply as I expected.

I realized that I had no idea how to answer that question, actually. I remembered how Flower was stricken with guilt when she realized she basically yanked me from death without asking. But she had started to care about me before that. I knew her disposition towards equinoids, so she didn’t consider me her property either.

My silence became a reply on its own. Delight was almost reading my mind, and was finding it blank. I didn’t need to have her Moth emotion-perceiving skills to notice clear disappointment as she let out a sigh.

“Let me put it in other words,” she tried again, despite that little display sounding patient and kind, almost sad, “why do you think Tin Flower created you?”

I wanted to argue that she didn’t create me per se, but rather resurrected me by accident as she was trying to make an equinoid. And that was where my mind finally caught onto the thing I had been missing from the very start: what prompted Flower to create an equinoid in the first place? It was no easy task, risky even, considering that she had to venture into the city via the Tunnels to acquire some components, namely the crystals. Such options as ‘for the sake of it’ or ‘for fun’ were instantly dismissed, since Flower was smart enough to know that it required no small effort and was a serious crime. She wasn’t friendless either, she had Red Wire and from what I could tell they deeply cared for each other, being almost as close as sisters.

Why did Flower assemble an artificial pony, and why did she care for me even after discovering that I wasn’t what she expected me to be? Even presented with all those facts, the answer eluded me. Though I knew it must be something simple.

Perplexed and slightly irritated by my own lack of insight, I looked at Del and became even more confused when she met my eyes, her expression that of overwhelming sorrow.

“Twilight… she is an orphan,” Delight uttered in a gentle sad voice.

My first response was to frown, as her explanation made no sense, but then a realization dawned on me, hitting me like a ton of bricks.

When Tin Flower was creating an equinoid, she was creating neither a machine to serve her, nor a friend to have fun with, just as I supposed. But I never thought she wanted to bring back a parent she lost. The parent she was still seeing in me. A mother.

With wide eyes I looked at Del once again and was met with the same sorrowful expression, but I still couldn’t tell why. Was it because I had failed to see over and over the way Flower acted towards me and understand what it meant? Was it because of what Flower was doing, the depth of her desperation, loneliness and pain? Or was it because I had yet to decide how to respond to that?

I glanced at the still form of the grimy filly slowly dying on Delight’s back, a filly who thought of herself as my daughter. I was always too busy to think of such things as a family, and thus I had no idea how to feel about it now. Did I want to be a mother? Could I be a mother? Not in the sense if I could bear foals or not; for me it was a path denied as much as for Del, obviously. But did I have it in myself to raise a filly? Especially considering that I failed to see her as such for almost two weeks, despite her, now quite apparent in retrospect, affection. I certainly cared for Flower, but I didn’t know if I cared for her enough for it to be considered a parental bond.

My eyes shifted to Del’s face, but I was met with an unreadable expression, neutral at best. It was something I had to decide for myself, since it was only between Flower and me.

Letting out a deep sigh, I gathered my thoughts.

Right now my life was a mess. I was on the way to face an insane goddess as I followed the will of a changeling queen ruling a city on the brink of a great calamity. Even if I wanted to accept my position as a parent for Tin Flower, this was the least appropriate time, not to mention that said filly was yet to be brought back from death’s door. Once it was all over I could certainly give it thought. Even right now it was something warming – Flower was a sweet and smart filly indeed, especially after given a proper bath and cured of her habit of swearing like a seapony. And somepony had to teach her how to read, after all.

Feeling conflicted as I was presented with both a new thing to worry about as well as something to possibly cherish in this dark and unforgiving world, I trotted by Delight’s side, deep in my thoughts.

Along with sand, a gust of arid desert wind brought a fragment of conversation Red Wire and Trixie were having:

“...release the arcane energy because many living beings are connected to the core of the world on a very subtle…”

It took me only a moment to understand that Trixie was explaining the principles of zebra alchemy, a very complicated and unobvious art. Apparently she had run out of techniques exploiting the weaknesses of Harmony and began to tell her about things which could barely be considered dark magic, as she stated herself. That made me wonder what Wire would do. The filly seemed to be adamant on compensating for her lack of magic power through alternative ways, but how far would she go? I also noted the fact that she and I weren’t bound by our agreement anymore, since it was only about me supervising Trixie teaching her, not any other dark mage. In a bitter ironic revelation I realized that I acted more as a mother towards Wire than Flower.

No matter how bothersome the fillies’ fates were, regardless of my role in their lives, their present seemed bleak. At first it seemed that Wire’s limp had worn off as we began to cross the desert, but now I could see it return and become more pronounced as time passed. Since her leg looked unwounded I could only suggest that it was either a sprain or a cracked hoof, and unfortunately, here, in the middle of nowhere, there was nothing that could be done about that. I could only hope she would be able to reach the Badlands in her state.

However, the young ones in our group weren’t the only who were suffering from the aftermath of visiting Dodge City. I turned my head to take a better look at Delight. When I met her in the Tunnels she looked rather beautiful, especially compared to most ponies I had encountered. Now, with most of the tatters on her body used either as bandages or to make a nest for Flower between her wings, I could clearly see the toll adventuring with me had taken on her.

I remembered that she used those ragged clothes to conceal her bright shiny coat, but now it wasn’t an issue anymore: the dust and caked blood were accomplishing that job perfectly. Along with the bruises and small wounds, they would have made me question her original color (as was still the case with Wire) if didn’t know it already. Half of her left wing was tightly wrapped in a red-stained shred of worn cloth, and the right wing was a mess of ruffled feathers. Her mane and tail, once smooth and silky, were tangled, with dirt and small pieces of rubbish clinging to them. I even thought I saw a glint of arcanium in her hair, but as I squinted I saw that it was just residual dust.

My scrutinizing examination didn’t go unnoticed, and with a wry smile Del chuckled, “I may not be a Moth anymore, but I still don’t serve equinoids. Sorry, Twilight.”

It took me a few moments to understand what she was implying, and I scrunched my nose in discontent and slight disgust as my mind tried and failed to imagine how it could possibly work.

“I think you have spent too much time with Flower, she’s rubbed off on you,” I dryly commented, though not without wearing a reserved smile myself.

“Until she receives a bath it is going to happen with everything within a hoof-length distance from her,” Delight retorted with a quiet yet hearty giggle that I couldn’t resist but share.

Suddenly I realized that from all my friends, newfound, old or not-really-mine, Clandestine Delight was the one with whom I was most comfortable. Despite her mellow character, she had an adamant resolve and fiery heart which made her strong without preventing her kindness from shining. She was a pony I enjoyed having around, but the question was: did she enjoy my company as much? She had no choice but to come with us, and looking at her I seriously doubted it was a pleasurable journey for her.

“This all is probably not what you expected when you decided to accompany me in Canterlot, is it?” I asked in a tone devoid of any mirth. If I remembered correctly Delight joined me because she had nowhere to go and wanted to help me. How did I repay her? She was wounded and had faced death more than once as I dragged her to the end of Equestria. We had made no progress with the plan we had to flee to Stalliongrad, and I wasn’t sure if that was even an option anymore.

However, Delight’s response was something I didn’t expect and it came with a just as surprising wide smile, “Actually, it pretty much is”

“...What?”

“If I didn’t meet you, what would my life have been?” Del exclaimed, beaming at me. “I was practically done. And even if I remained a Moth it would be a drab life in the dying city until I was killed by its inhabitants or winter.”

I just stated at her in amazement. Very soon, comprehension began to dawn on me. It would be a lie to say I would have made a different choice in her situation. Wasting an entire life in Canterlot as it was today as a prostitute even with the merits of that job? Nopony would want that.

“And look at me now,” Delight continued to gush. “Yes, I’m beaten and bitten, I can’t remember the last time I took a shower or had a meal I can actually call a meal, and I may not understand everything that is going on, but I am in the company of three Former Ones, outside Canterlot and about to see a Princess. I am a part of something greater than myself.” She looked at me with deep gratitude. “I could have only dreamt of that before.”

I smiled back at her, but in all honesty I didn’t know how to feel. As Del fairly noted herself, she wasn’t getting the full picture, starting with the fact that we very well might not make back alive, not to mention Queen Chrysalis waiting for us if we did. On the other hoof, she was probably the only friend who I had managed to make truly happy so far. Settling on that it was probably the only thing that really mattered in that situation, I allowed myself to stop worrying about Del and just trot by her side, content with her company.

The sheer cliffs surrounding the Badlands kept growing closer to us, but unfortunately they were doing so agonizingly slow. We spent hours trudging across the infirm sands, and it seemed that we were about to spend many more before we finally met our fate lying beyond the wall of jagged stone.

Despite Delight being in lifted spirits and steadily trotting forward, I didn’t really want to bother her with a chat. She was trying to hide it, but I could tell she was very tired. Though it wasn’t much, talking would tap into her little remaining strength. The same could be applied to Red Wire, except she wasn’t even trying to conceal how exhausted she was. With her head hanging low and tail sweeping the hoofsteps left by unsteady legs, she was forcing herself forward, any conversation she had with Trixie dead long ago. I tried to offer her a ride on my back, but she stubbornly refused without telling me a reason, though I could guess – she must have been thinking it was Flower’s place.

Speaking of Flower, she was growing weaker by the hour. She would hold on until the night, but I was afraid today’s dawn might be her last. That and the waning strength of my friends weren’t my only worry. I couldn’t stop thinking about Rainbow Dash. I began to speed up, which was an irritatingly difficult endeavour due to my hooves sinking in the sand. My goal was to catch up with Rainbow since I had at least two points I wanted to talk with her about.

I was concerned about Rainbow. She looked fine, but I didn’t really know how Dodge City affected her, physically or mentally. It also occured to me that she hadn’t eaten once since our journey began, and it was a long time. On top of that, she missed out on sleep, which wasn’t a big issue in itself, but combined with hunger…

On the other hoof, however, I was mad at her. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment my aggravation began to build up, it could even have started when we were at the Edge. Anyhow, the tipping point for me was the way she acted towards Tin Flower. Regardless of my relationship with that filly, Rainbow’s reaction to her condition was heartless. I could pretend that the unamiability she had shown to the Bridge’s occupants was explained by them being outlaws in her eyes, but Flower was an innocent filly and also my friend, which should have meant something to Rainbow.

There was also the question of our forthcoming journey back, which right now looked impossible. Rainbow must have had some plan, judging by how she never mentioned it as an issue.

Lastly, despite Rainbow initially acting friendly, almost the way we were back then, after she received orders from Queen Chrysalis, she began to shift into what I supposed was her ‘operating mode’ which was affecting our interactions in a way I wasn’t enjoying at all.

Struggling over the doughy ground, I caught up and cantered by Rainbow's side. She gave me a brief glance, implying that she had nothing on her mind she wanted to share and it was up to me to hold a conversation with her. Obviously, that wasn’t helping my growing anger, thus deciding what to say to her first.

“You know,” I began, trying to keep my tone as level as I could, “you could have been a bit more caring towards Tin Flower, after all we owe her a lot.” I put a slight emphasis on the last part, hoping Rainbow would understand that I meant not just the recent help coming from Flower during our journey, but the fact that she deserved all the credit for my current existence.

As Rainbow spoke I noted how she tried to keep her voice even as much as I did but failed, with the irritation not so prominent in it, but still clearly discernible, ”Twilight, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this is not a walk in the park, it’s a combat operation.”

“So what?” I tried to meet her eyes, but she was looking forward, constantly scanning the horizon with an impassioned expression. “Does that mean you should stop caring about anypony?” I knew this wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation by any means, but it seemed like I underestimated how much.

“Basically, yes,” Rainbow deadpanned without missing a beat. I stumbled, momentarily losing balance. I thought I must have misheard her, but she continued in the same passionless tone, “That filly is a civilian, irrelevant to the mission objective.”

For a few moments I was just at a loss for words. This was going beyond anything I knew. My brother was as much of a soldier as a pony could be, but he knew compassion, even on the battlefield. So, as soon as my initial shock passed, I exploded, “What is wrong with you!? She is a kid! She is our friend!” I yelled at her in disbelief. Why should I be reminding her of such things? Why did she need to be reminded?

“Fillies become casualties like everypony else,” Rainbow dismissed my words, not even bothering to turn her head to me as she kept staring ahead. If she didn’t speak I would have thought she didn’t hear me at all.

I was already preparing a wrathful tirade to bring upon her when she spoke again, this time giving me a very brief sidelong glance which I couldn’t discern. “And there are no friends in war.”

Those words felt like a hit in the gut. Rainbow Dash becoming heartless to the point that she stopped caring for the young ones was unexpected, but hearing her saying that was beyond imagination. It actually hurt, and I had to start my phrase a few times before I could speak coherently.

“Does that mean I’m just another expendable civilian to you?” I bitterly muttered, not sure who I was asking: Rainbow or myself. Nor was I sure if I actually wanted to know the answer.

Rainbow Dash abruptly stopped, finally willing to spare me some attention, it seemed. I looked into her dark eyes beyond the visor and a hard glare met another hard glare, though both being such for different reasons.

“Twilight,” her voice was harsh, but not angry, even bearing a slight hint of sympathy, “what we are doing now is an extremely serious matter, and don’t think that I’m enjoying all of this. Nightmare Moon, or whatever Luna has become, is a major threat to Equestria’s safety, and as a captain of the Royal Guard it’s my direct responsibility. My mission has been compromised four times already, and no, you are not expendable,” she finished the little speech with a sigh, but then quickly added, “You are part of the objective.”

Throughout Rainbow’s explanation my face started to gradually turn into a scowl. She told me nothing I didn’t know already and despite her apparently believing that it all was a valid justification of the way she acted, I didn’t share her opinion on that matter. And if she thought to make amends with that, all her effort became instantly wasted with that last sentence.

“Great, I’m an objective now,” I snapped, becoming extremely tired of Rainbow’s attitude. “If you don’t care about my friends and are going to hoof me over to Chrysalis, why should I even follow you?” I could believe in Chrysalis caring for the city and ponies, but the thing was that neither I nor Luna were such. We were her sworn and most ancient enemies and I couldn’t realistically expect of her any hospitality.

“Because you are going to die without me,” came the curt rasping reply, followed by an impatient explanation as I glared at Rainbow, “and I don’t mean that as you need me to survive, which you do.” My glare only intensified, though I had to admit she was right. Without her we would have never made it out of Dodge City, not to mention the griffins’ attack and the hostility of the bridge squatters. “I can’t guarantee that you won’t be ordered to be killed without my protection.”

The last phrase was rather ambiguous, since it didn’t explicitly say who exactly would want us dead, though I could already name the first candidate.

“And can you guarantee that Luna and I won’t be executed the moment you present us to your Queen?”

“You and Luna are assets too valuable to be wasted. Your fate will be decided by the Queen and her advisor,” Rainbow readily retorted. Though her expression remained unchanged and tone neutral she made it quite clear that she didn’t appreciate the way I emphasized the words regarding her command. However, I barely paid it attention as Rainbow wounded me deeply once again.

“You greeted me as a friend,” I uttered sadly, staring at my hooves, “but now I’m an objective or asset you are ready to surrender to the mercy of an enemy.” I shook my head and raised it to look Rainbow straight in the eyes only to be met with the same face, focused and yet dispassionate. “Rainbow, what happened to you?”

She gazed at me for a few long moments before suddenly asking, “Do you love Equestria, Twilight?”

“Of course I do,” I exclaimed, slightly taken aback. “What kind of question is that?”

“So do I, with all my heart,” Rainbow said somberly and quietly, for the first time since we had left Canterlot’s outskirts letting any emotion other than some form of anger show in her voice. Bitterly, even sounding a bit hopeless, she continued, “Equestria is on the brink of oblivion now, especially considering that Nightmare Moon is alive. And I’ve learned the hard way, as you did, if you have forgotten, that friendship doesn’t save anypony anymore.” I winced as she reminded me how the Elements of Harmony failed. How we all failed in the end.

Rainbow paused, but only briefly and I could see that she was carefully choosing her next words. Finally she spoke in a voice full of both steel resolve and resignation, “You are still a friend to me, but right now I can’t allow that to interfere with the tasks at hoof.”

A heavy, solemn silence hung in the air like a thundercloud.

Rainbow continued to march towards the already not-so-distant bloodstained crags. She didn’t wait for my answer, and really, what could I say to her? I wished I didn't agree with the things she said, but unfortunately I knew she was right. There were no Elements this time, just a huge city with thousands of problems. I was just one confused mare who didn’t know even half of what was needed to deal with any of those issues, but unlike me, Rainbow could make a difference. She was a hero standing between Canterlot and its demise.

And the best I could do was to not stand in her way.

The dry chilly wind of the lifeless desert whistled between the plates of my body. The self-forgetful concerto of nature was interrupted only by the retreating sound of sand scrunching under armored hooves. In that growing near silence I, for the first time, realized that Trixie, Wire and Del were listening to the entirety of our furious exchange. Briefly glancing at them, I was met with their gloomy expressions. I couldn’t tell if that was because they sympathized with me or because they were reminded of how dire our situation was. Though I felt like they were waiting for me to say something, I remained silent. I didn’t want to drag them into that mess more than I already had and any words of encouragement died in my throat – I desperately needed some myself. Pursing my lips, I turned away and began to follow Rainbow’s steps. We, especially Flower, were running out of time.

After Dodge City my clock was jumbled, refusing to tell me the time, but I could tell that we had been traversing the desolate sands for hours. The sun was dipping towards the horizon, but we still had to cross quite a distance between us and the Badlands. I could already make out the details of the mountain range and the gap in it patiently waiting for us, but we would only make it there under moonlight, no sooner – it just seemed to be deceptively close.

Sometime ago we made a brief resting stop, but unfortunately it barely helped – without food and water, it couldn’t. As I returned to my position at the end of the procession I could observe the full extent of how little strength remained in my friends. Delight was still walking steadily, conscious about the filly on her back, but her wings drooped and were leaving two faint lines on the sand along with shallow hoofprints. And Red Wire was now resting on my back, since she had begun stumbling and even falling to her knees. The fact that she almost didn’t resist my invitation (or rather order, since I wasn’t taking no for an answer) was a bit concerning.

When the night’s veil began to cover the sky, we were still about an hour away from the rocky pass. Two spells were wrapping Tin Flower: the vitals detecting and weight alleviating, since Delight was barely able to carry her weight. Red Wire was asleep on my back, unable to fight the exhaustion back anymore, but her slumber was troubled – she was quietly whimpering in pain, her wounded eye making itself felt.

Doubts and worries were washing over me in waves, followed by regret. With every step, I could feel the ominous presence ahead, even though I was sure it was just my mind playing cruel tricks. Every shallow and irregular breath of Tin Flower, each taking a bit longer to come, was resonating in me with a pang of guilt.

Finally, my hoof stepped on the rocky soil. The precipitous mountains of the passage loomed above us, but not as sentinels – as a warning. We were mere minutes away from entering the Badlands, and if I didn’t have Flower dying I would have turned back, so strong was the feeling of committing a grave mistake.

A sharp gasp cut the silence ahead of me. To my surprise I realized that it belonged to Trixie. I moved closer to her only to hear her mutter in a horrified whisper, “She knows!”

Confused, I strode forward, and as I evened with Trixie and Rainbow, who stood looking into the distance, I felt it. It was as if my hoof struck a violin chord, but both melody and string were woven of magic. For a very brief moment I saw the thing Trixie told me about: an enormous invisible arcane network, a vast detecting spell covering everything to the horizon. Nothing could step into the Badlands without raising an alarm.

Hours spent crossing the sands between this desolate place and Dodge City made me think we were trying to traverse a lifeless void. But the sight before my eyes easily beat it. Smooth, barren stone plateaus devoid of absolutely anything was the only thing I could see. Or at least it seemed so at first, until I noticed movement in the distance. The sky above was clear, allowing the moon and stars to bathe the dead stone with cold silver light, preventing the night from being tenebrous. However, in that moonlight I could see a moving patch of pure blackness, an impenetrable shadow rolling across the ground like spilled ink.

And it was rushing toward us like a bolt of ebony lightning.

Panic shot through me – this was all a huge mistake. I turned around, preparing to flee, and froze in bewilderment – the passage between the crags was gone. I rushed to it, sure that it was only an illusion, it had to be, but as I stretched my hoof to prod at it, I was met with a solid mass of rock.

I whipped my body back and witnessed how the tiny shadow in the distance had become a swirling pitch-black tide closing on us, taking up most of our view.

Red Wire, disturbed by my sudden ministrations, slid from my back and was already retreating, her eye wide in utter terror. Delight was already at the wall with her rump pressing into it and her wings weakly outstretched in the instinctive, yet futile, desire to look imposing. Rainbow took to the air, and I could hear her cannons come to life with a sinister hum. Trixie stood where she was, seemingly paralyzed with fear, oblivious to the mad thrashing of her stolen shadow as it tried to escape her body.

Only a few moments passed before I could see nothing but void, the moon and stars gone as the sea of darkness enveloped us. Numbing fear took hold of me as I remembered how it already happened once, in the land of eternal snow, a long time ago.

Then, amidst that blankness a pair of narrow menacing eyes appeared and I couldn’t help but stare into them. Those were not the eyes of a pony. They weren’t even the eyes of a living being. The night itself gazed at us, empty and dead, shining forth with the merciless cold light of distant stars and an orphaned moon.

Trixie was wrong, Princess Luna was no more, there was nothing left to save. It wasn’t even Nightmare Moon – she was rage, a twisted ambition, a passion. The entity that caught us in its web could know only merciful oblivion, it was void incarnate, hunting these lands for any signs of life. For it, nothing but changelings could reside here anymore. And in that moment I felt how the abyss gazed back, focusing on me.

Suddenly, in that impenetrable wall of nothing stars began to flare one after another, but as I looked at them I realized… they were eyes, dozens of lifeless eyes. Through the ages, from the nightmare, words spoken in an icy tone echoed: “I’m taking two entire platoons of the Royal Guard and scouring the Badlands until the changeling threat is completely eliminated…” Goodness, she didn’t let them die, those soldiers became forever bound to her vengeful, grief-maddened spirit!

It was a mistake, I should have known that coming here was a death sentence. Damn it, who I was fooling – I knew that! Why did I even agree to come here? I had a choice, and I doomed us all…

The darkness shifted, something changed in it. Inside the silver pools of the night’s eyes a blemish appeared, the shadows leaked into it and a mere moment later – or an eternity, I couldn’t tell – two vertical streaks of ink cut the unblinking eyes of death, becoming irises and expanding in astonishment.

A voice that I could barely recognize, hollow and painfully loud boomed, surprised and displeased at the same time, splitting the air like a whip:

“Twilight Sparkle. What are you doing here?”

She recognized me, but… Who was she? As that question rang through my dazed mind, many others joined the chorus of confusion. How she recognized me was one of the most prominent among them. I barely looked like Twilight Sparkle anymore. Or did she think I was wearing armor, like the younger version of me did? Then comprehension dawned on me: whatever that entity was, she wasn’t seeing me, but my magic in a way similar to how Spike recognized me.

As I stood dumbstruck, I saw her glowing gaze slide over my company. I noted how her eyes lingered on Trixie, the vertical pupils narrowing slightly, but the deafening silence remained unbroken. The moment she focused on Delight, the pegasus’ nerves gave up and she fainted, making me to catch both her and Flower who almost fell from between the wings. Wire met the penetrating regard defiantly – I expected nothing less from her, but I could see the filly’s whole body shaking violently. Finally, she looked at Rainbow and then spoke.

“Rainbow Dash, isn’t it?” There was apparent puzzlement in her voice which changed into the urgency of somepony who was distracted from an important business. “I presume that means the war is over. If that is all you wanted to tell me, then I must return to my search immediately, Equestria is still at peril.”

The irony of her words was excruciatingly painful, but it wasn’t what struck me. Princess Luna… Nightmare Moon… she… didn’t know. She was completely unaware of the course of the war that almost destroyed Equestria. Had she even noticed the passage of time? Another realization came to me: we weren’t giving her a clue. My magic was almost the same as it was when I recorded the crystals which served as my ‘soul vessels’ now. Rainbow Dash was frozen in time, her magic signature just as unchanged.

“P-princess Luna?” I called in a shaky voice, dreading to hear her answer, for I was afraid she answered to that name no more.

“Yes, Twilight Sparkle, what is it?” she responded impatiently to my immense relief, oblivious to my internal struggle. Though I could barely recognize her as Princess Luna, she still saw herself as such.

But my turmoil didn’t end there, it only became worse as I realized that I had to somehow break to the Princess of the Night the fact that she had been lost in her vengeance for centuries. That she willingly, yet unknowingly went through half the length of her exile to the moon.

I cast my eyes to the ground, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to meet hers.

“Princess…” I began and felt my voice failing me, so I had to start over, “Princess Luna, it has been five hundred and seventeen years since The Great War ended,” I said in a hollow voice. Only when those words left my mouth did I realize what I just said – I echoed the same thing Red Wire told me when I woke up. There was a bitter wryness in that it was my turn to pass on that painful truth.

The pregnant pause that came after I finished speaking stretched on forever, with every passing moment driving me closer and closer to the state of complete mental breakdown.

“Twilight, ‘tis no time for jokes. I expected better of you,” came her angry response.

Of course she wouldn’t believe. I didn’t want to believe that either, but it changed nothing. The question was: how I was supposed to prove that to her while standing in the middle of the unchanging homeland of the changelings, taking into consideration her thinning patience?

With a loud thud, Rainbow landed on the rocky ground and took a few steps towards the eyes looking at her from the darkness.

“That is no joke,” she reported briskly. Her tone was… accusing? I expected Rainbow to be relieved. After all Princess Luna not being completely insane meant that she was no threat to Equestria. But it sounded like Rainbow was taking a lot of effort to not to say too much.

The darkness began to dissipate and swirl into a huge hurricane until a pony, an alicorn was standing in front of us. I stared at Princess Luna in horror. Not only did she appear more like Nightmare Moon with her coat being so deep blue it was almost black and those dragon-like eyes – she was emaciated. It looked as if there was nothing between her lustreless coat and bones, she was but a skeleton with skin taut on it. On the gaunt body, armor of the blackest metal hung from her like on a rack, it had long lost its shine, but refused to surrender to corrosion. On her side, a tarnished scabbard resided, concealing inside a blade that must have become dull from time. The void became her mane – I couldn’t tell if it seemed so huge because of how marcid her frame was or if that was just the way it was now. It was like churning water, unresting ink with muzzle outlines peeking out of it, their glowing empty eyes watching me and the others intently.

Princess Luna raised her head to the sky and her horn became a beacon of blinding light as she reached out for the moon. I knew it because I saw the celestial body move ever so slightly, corrected on its course after countless inexperienced moonrises. But it wasn’t the only thing that moved.

With an uneasy feeling I watched how Princess Luna’s facial expression began to change, a grim restless determination rapidly melting away to be replaced with a grimace of utter horror, an agonizing comprehension of the time passed.

Finally Princess Luna’s horn went dark and ever so slowly and painfully she cast her eyes, wide with shock, to the ground. Minutes of heavy silence passed by but she remained unmoving like a grotesque statue save for her mane and tail soundlessly whipping on invisible wind.

What she was going through right now must have been much worse than it was for me. I was unwillingly torn from another era and placed into the present only to comprehend its atrociousness. Princess Luna had a choice, she could have been there all the time, but instead she was hunting these lands. It was a mistake undoubtedly, but that made her no less responsible. I couldn’t imagine the crushing weight of guilt she must have been feeling right now.

Taking a tentative step forward, I carefully called, “Princess Luna?”

She raised her head once again and looked at me. I thought her eyes were already as wide as they could be, but I was wrong – upon seeing me they became even more round. She finally saw me as who I was now – a living machine, not to mention that she might realize I should have been long dead.

“Twilight…” Princess Luna kept staring at me like I was a ghost. In a sense, she was right. “What happened to you?” she uttered out in a small, no longer imposing voice.

“That is… a long story,” I replied with a grimace. I didn’t want to go through it again, at least not right now. “We…” I hesitated. Knowing from my own experience, there was no way I could tell Princess Luna all that had happened over the last five hundred years and what was happening now without breaking her heart. As the initial shock of meeting her passed, my concerns returned: behind me were two fillies, one dying and the other seriously wounded, not to mention a blacked out pegasus who needed medical attention as well. I couldn’t spend the whole night looking for the right words.

“After the Great War, Canterlot remained the only city in Equestria,” I grimly began, avoiding meeting Princess Luna’s eyes and adopting the same lifeless tone Trixie once used to tell me the events of the distant past. “Right now, things are really bad there: it is ravaged by severe winters and a lack of resources.” It was the understatement of the millennium, though it wasn’t the reason why I paused – the next words would hit much harder. “And it is ruled by Queen Chrysalis.” Surprisingly it was Rainbow who reacted first – I heard her make an unintelligible sound and saw in the corner of my eye how she made a step towards me. However, my attention was focused on Princess Luna. As I expected she looked shocked and broken, but I couldn’t tell if the last part changed anything – her expressiveness met its limit it seemed.

“I… failed…” Princess Luna choked out and tears began to stream down her cheeks. “I failed everypony…”

I thought of approaching her to give a hug but decided against it. It felt out of place and I still felt uneasy about her morbid appearance. Instead I gently floated Tin Flower closer to me, in the process checking on her – she was still alive, but not for long.

“Princess Luna,” I softly said, taking a few steps towards her shuddering, sobbing form, “we need your help.” Motioning at the still form of the filly levitated by my side I added, “She needs your help.”

Princess Luna paused in her lament and glanced between me and Flower. A moment later I felt the careful touch of her magic on mine and the arcane aura enveloping Flower began to shift its colors into blue tones. The filly floated closer to Princess Luna, and she began to study her with a deep frown.

“Her entity was almost severed from the Harmony,” she muttered. “What happened to her?” she asked, looking at me.

I couldn’t tell her it was another long story, it would be disrespectful if not suspicious. Also she might need all the details to cure that wound. “She was attacked by a… thing. An abomination of arcanium and flesh,” -I shuddered at the memory- “a spectral limb of that… creature passed through her.”

Princess Luna’s brows shot up as I told her the very short and cut version of our nightmarish experience in Dodge City, yet she said nothing, just curtly nodded and returned her attention to Tin Flower. I briefly wondered if Princess Luna had encountered something like that at some point. Suddenly her horn flared brightly and I felt magic around me lurch, shifting in a very strange way. As sudden as that sensation appeared it was gone along with the brilliant shine of the alicorn’s horn.

“Her entity, magic and physical body are properly connected to the Harmony now, but she needs rest for them to come into unison,” Princess Luna said, carefully lowering Flower into the nest of rags on the ground. Her horn then flared for one more time, and a wisp of soft light materialized above the filly, bathing her in the silvery glow. I felt warmth radiating from the glowing orb.

Princess Luna looked around and her eyes stopped on Delight and Red Wire, the latter trying to bring the unconscious pegasus round. “I can tell the rest of your company needs help as well,” she commented.

The midnight alicorn came closer to them and as her horn began to glow once again Del came to life with a gasp, her eyelids fluttering like a caught butterfly’s wings. However it took her only a moment to notice the Princess standing over her and with a loud shriek, futilely trying to take off, she backpedaled, slamming her back into the stone wall, hyperventilating as her horrified gaze was locked onto Princess Luna.

Princess Luna cringed away from such a violent reaction and with a sad expression began to look over herself and realize how she looked. I was by Delight’s side already, embracing her in my hooves (though it was mostly to stop her from thrashing around rather than to placate).

“Del, she is here to help,” I muttered into the pegasus’ ear.

That finally had an effect on her and Delight calmed down, going limp in my metal limbs. Her gaze remained on Princess Luna however and there was no awe or respect, only fear.

Tentatively and slowly the Princess reached out with her magic and the bandages covering Delight’s wing went away revealing inflamed wounds on her skin. Both Del and Princess Luna winced, from the pain and from the sight – being wrapped in the dirty tatters had not helped those bites and cuts.

Princess Luna spent a few minutes mending Delight’s injuries, though I could tell that her ability couldn’t cover them all, as the nastiest gashes remained barely touched – magic couldn’t solve all problems, no matter how good a pony was at it. The anesthetic spell did a great job at making Del feel better. I could see the pain leave her eyes, but not fear – she couldn’t stop trying to shrink away from the Princess.

When Princess Luna turned her head to Red Wire I started to move closer to the alicorn’s side to warn her about the nature of Wire’s wound and that at best only her leg could be helped right now, but the filly spoke first.

“I don’t need your help,” she all but hissed in disdain, taking a step back.

“Is it my appearance that scares you so, little one? Fear not, for-” Princess Luna patiently said, putting the kindest smile she could on her gaunt muzzle, but Red Wire didn’t let her finish.

“You were here all that time, while we were all suffering,” Wire’s voice was cold and calm – coming from her it meant that she was beyond fury. A single tear rolled from her eye. “While my brother was dying.” Princess Luna jerked as if she had been slapped, but Wire wasn’t finished.

“I was always told that you were a goddess, a hero. But all I can see is just another heartless monster.”

Awful silence reigned. Princess Luna looked like she wasn’t just slapped – but like a dagger was plunged in her chest. Her body was shaking with soundless sobs. I reached with my hoof, but she shied from me and, muttering, “I want to be alone right now,” and began to slowly walk away from our group.

I turned to Red Wire and she met my eyes steadily. I wanted to berate her, but no words came from my mouth, as I realized I didn’t know what to say. What could I tell her if she was right? As I pursed my lips and looked back to find where Princess Luna went, I saw Wire helping Del to carry the rags no longer needed as bandages to add them to Flower’s bedding. Princess Luna herself was sitting a fair distance away from all of us, her horn shining with moonlight threads spooled on it from all around her – she had escaped into the Dream Realm.

Suddenly, I was violently yanked, so hard that I fell, but whoever did that didn’t stop, and I was dragged across the stone, sparks showering from where my metal body dug into rock. I whipped my head around trying to see who had assaulted me, but even before I saw hooves clad in arcanium clutching me, I knew it was Rainbow Dash – it could be nopony else from my present company, not to mention that only she had enough strength to move my body like that.

Before I could call to her she basically threw me on the ground at her hooves and towered over me. Furious, I scrambled to my hooves and came face to visor with her.

“What are you do-”

In a one frighteningly fast motion Rainbow stuck her hoof in my mouth.

“Keep. Your. Voice. Down,” she hissed at me. Only now did I notice how despite her face looking as if it were chiseled from stone, her eyes burned with barely contained rage.

I slapped her limb out of my jaws and angrily whispered, “What is this all about?”

“Twilight, could you fucking think before you open you mouth?” Rainbow barked at me almost literally growling.

“What?” I was genuinely confused. Was it about Wire’s conversation with Princess Luna? But I didn’t even let fall a word. “What did I say wrong?”

“You just told Luna about Chrysalis!” Rainbow snapped with a wrathful expression contorting her features.

“And what was I supposed to tell her?” I shot back just as vehemently. It was going to be another of those talks. “Were we going to pretend that nothing is wrong and take her to the Sky Palace? Do you think she wouldn’t have noticed?”

“I should have told her that in a proper way.”

“What proper way?” I returned and in a mocking tone added, “Chrysalis killed everypony we knew, but she is good nevertheless?”

Rainbow scowled glowering at me and let out a short sigh before returning to her rant, “You asked me of guarantees not so long ago, and I want to ask you now: could you have guaranteed me that Luna wouldn't snap, leave us here to die and go straight to Canterlot to kill Chrysalis?”

I couldn't help but mirror Rainbow’s scowl. So that’s what it was about – the changeling queen to whom she seemed to be so endlessly loyal.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let her kill your precious Queen,” I sneered with a grim grin. That wouldn’t completely erase Princess Luna’s guilt, but it should help her immensely, not to mention a positive effect on Canterlot now that it would have a rightful ruler. However my answer resulted in Rainbow giving me a look of utter disappointment.

“Again, Twilight, you asked me what was wrong with me and I can ask you the same in return. I remembered you as one of the smartest mares I knew, but right now you’re acting like a retarded donkey,” Rainbow said in a loud whisper sounding like she was on the verge of losing patience, “The Crown is the Swarm and the Crown controls almost the entire city. If Chrysalis dies, the city won’t hold for a single damn week. We didn’t come here for Luna to let her fuck up everything!”

Her last words came out louder than the low voice to which we tried to keep our conve… fight. I glanced back, but Princess Luna was still dreamwalking. As I was turning my head I noticed that Trixie was actually standing close to us, barely discernible in the shadows of night. No matter how things were between us, when I caught a glimpse of her eyes I saw sympathy in them. After all, it was her idea to come for Princess Luna. Speaking of which...

“It is Princess Luna, by the way,” I scolded Rainbow who in addition to acting like a complete jerk was also apparently failing to remember that we were talking about a diarch, a goddess.

“Negative,” Rainbow whipped out, “she is not, and she never should be.”

“What?” I almost cried out loudly. I couldn’t believe my ears. “What are you talking about? Do you want Chrysalis to rule forever?” Rainbow might not be under hypnosis, but I feared that the changeling queen could use some other ways to break her mind.

“Hey!” Trixie finally came to my help, using the brief pause in the conversation to chime in, “We saved her so she can save us all.”

“You shut the fuck up, this is none of your business,” Rainbow instantly snapped with such fury in her voice at Trixie that she took a step back. Then whipping around she rapped at me, “Twilight, are you listening to me? I just told you that the city needs Chrysalis to survive, it needs the Swarm. If you put Luna on the throne right now, even without killing Chrysalis, all will come crashing down.” Narrowing her eyes she spat, “And I don’t think there will ever be a situation in which you can put Luna on the throne and expect something good to come out of it.”

“How can you say that?” Trixie hissed outraged from Rainbow's side, but the pegasus ignored her completely.

“Luna is just a fucking lunatic at best,” Rainbow growled with so much disgust in her voice that I was sure she would have spat on the ground if not for the helmet, “at worst – she is a threat to everypony.”

“What!?” I exclaimed, scandalized. Princess Luna was our only hope, the last bulwark of ponydom, she didn’t carry the title of Princess for nothing! But Rainbow talked about her as if she was an enemy.

Rainbow was once again uncomfortably close to me, her hoof clamping around my mouth. She was looking over my shoulder intently. As I followed her gaze I saw Princess Luna still lost inside her arcane domain, unperturbed by my outburst.

“Keep your fucking voice down or she will hear us,” Rainbow chided me once again. Releasing the grip on my jaws, which I was sure left dents, she continued in a low menacing voice, “That is exactly what I’m talking about, she is mentally unstable and holds too much power for a pony that insane.”

“Should I remind you that her sister was murdered? How can you be so heartless?” I whispered angrily, barely preventing myself from screaming at Rainbow. “She needs our help right now, like she did when she came back as Nightmare Moon.”

“Should I remind you that things have changed?” came Rainbow’s surly answer mocking my own words. “We have no time to play therapists. If it weren’t for my orders I would have shot her down already,” she said matter of factly, making me look at her in horror and take an involuntary step back. A stray thought crawled into my blank from shock mind: Rainbow Dash died in that accident indeed, the mare in front of me was nothing like her… if it was a mare anymore.

Grabbing my breast plate Rainbow brought me so close that I could make out single hairs on her muzzle.

“And now listen carefully, because it seems like you have trouble understanding my words,” she said terrifyingly calm in a tone that could freeze water, with her rosy eyes matching it. “While I do comply to orders, I also have room for my own judgement. If I see Luna becoming a security threat I will kill her immediately. If you don’t want that to happen, you are going to talk to her and tell her that she is a Princess no longer.”

Author's Notes:
One chapter closer to the finale.
Chapter 16 is already being edited and chapter 17 is in works. I'll do my best and try to finish all the drafts of the remaining chapters by the end of the next month, though it does mean they will be posted shortly after that. Editing takes some time.
Besides that there isn't much more I can tell for now.
Aftersound Project Discord server - it's a little community dedicated to discussion of the story and whatnot. Everyone is welcome to join.
Pony Tales, a quite welcoming place dedicated to disscussing and working on many great stories (now including Aftersound). I think you may also find it interesting.
If you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know.
I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.
Stay awesome.

Chapter 16 – You can’t go home again

Aftersound

=================================

Written by:

Flutterfinar & Geka

Preread and edited by:

Cover art done by:

=================================

You can’t go home again

====================

Despite more than one night of rest missed, I couldn’t force myself to drift into semi-conscious slumber, not with Rainbow’s warning echoing through my head. Obviously, any further conversation with her wasn’t an option. Nor was there anything I could, or wished to, discuss with the girls who kept company with Tin Flower, warming at the orb of alicorn magic, nodding from drowsiness, yet kept awake by adrenaline. And if Trixie had anything to say to me, she wasn’t showing it, skulking in the shadows instead, making it difficult to simply find her. So, with Princess Luna still dreamwalking, I sat by her side. Watching the moon crawl across the black sky and basking in the glow of her magic, I surrendered to my thoughts.

It would be a lie to say that I wasn’t mad at Rainbow, that I wasn’t scared of her even. But I had to admit that her words, albeit spoken with unnecessary harshness, bore more than just a tiny grain of truth in them. If Trixie was correct when she spoke to me of the Crown, then no matter its nature, it played a pivotal role in running Canterlot. For example, running the healthcare infrastructure. And if the entirety of the Crown consisted solely of changelings, as Rainbow said, then putting Princess Luna in command right now would leave Canterlot without the whole governmental apparatus, paralyzing the crucial population support structures. Not to mention that the Royal Guard would cease to exist, and they seemed to be the only force preventing any aggressive faction in the city from escalating things into an open conflict, starting with the TCE. The more I thought about it, the more I understood Rainbow’s vehement attitude towards Princess Luna reclaiming her throne, even though I couldn’t approve of it.

However, I still couldn’t agree with the idea that Princess Luna should abdicate the throne. Queen Chrysalis and her ‘Crown’ were crucial to the city’s survival, but if the last five centuries had proven anything, she couldn’t make ponydom prosper. Equestria needed a real ruler, one that would make it progress, not just postpone the disaster indefinitely. Princess Luna was an alicorn, a creature representing all the pony races, meant to rule by birthright. How could a being capable of moving celestial bodies, a guardian of an entire arcane realm, a goddess by definition, not be given the mantle of leader and protector of all those living in the moonlight?

All those objections were worth nothing against a pair of guns attached to a pony who cared only about her own opinion, no matter how right or wrong it could be. I witnessed the death of a goddess once before, and I would do anything to never see it happen again. To prevent that, I basically had to tell Princess Luna that she couldn’t be herself. More than that – I had to tell her she couldn’t fix her failure, I had to deny her redemption.

That was something where I was starting to agree with Rainbow, actually, but of course I wasn’t reacting in the same way. Princess Luna’s mental health wasn’t in the best state, I had to admit that. And I couldn’t not feel guilty about it. Surely, after Princess Celestia was killed, I had my own problems. But if I had the help of my friends, who did Princess Luna have? She was left alone, and her wounds were much deeper than mine. For me Princess Celestia was a teacher, a second mother at best… a dream. For Princess Luna she was a sister, the only family that would survive the passage of time. I should have reached out to her back then; I was her closest friend after all. The pulsing skeletal statue full of anguish and regret by whose side I sat was partially my fault. But I was still here, I had gotten a second chance at many things and helping Princess Luna might be one of them.

However, none of those ruminations brought me even remotely close to understanding what I would say to the Princess of the Night for her to relinquish her claim to the throne, to give it up to the enemy she had been hunting for five long centuries.

So, devoured by my struggle to come up with the right words, I failed to notice the magic on the tip of her majestic alicorn horn flaring once more to hide the moon beyond the horizon and invite the sun into the sky instead. Frozen in the realization that I wasn’t ready, I sat acutely aware that the pony by my side was a statue no more as she watched the sunrise with me. Thousands of possible conversation openers swarmed inside my head, but it was as if the microphone in my throat had died.

“I am sorry,” Princess Luna whispered so quietly that I thought it was just wind at first. Again, I was silent, but this time I simply had no idea what to say. That it wasn’t her fault? That she shouldn’t be worrying?

In a just as quiet and sorrowful voice Princess Luna continued, not waiting for my reaction, “I’ve visited many dreams of ponies this night.” Her voice shook, gaining a slightly terrified note. “I thought it was only nightmares at first, but then I came to the realization that it was what Canterlot has become in my absence.” Princess Luna's mistake was understandable, since those were my thoughts exactly – I couldn’t disagree that Canterlot was nothing but somepony’s horrible dream these days. “I saw the fears of ponies, I saw the future looming over the city, and I cannot help but feel I am too late. But I…“ she trailed off.

I still wasn’t sure if I should speak, nor again what to tell Princess Luna. She mirrored some of my thoughts as I was discovering the harsh reality of the world as it was now. At least she was lucky to see it all via dreams and not by directly confronting each and every horror like I did. The pause began to stretch for a while as the Princess struggled to find the right words. I finally found what to say and opened my mouth, but she spoke again, in a much more sure voice this time:

“I am familiar with the change, I am familiar with being unfamiliar.” There was a barely noticeable mirthless chuckle as Princess Luna said that, followed by a deep breath taken before she went on in a more bitter tone, “When I first stepped onto these rocks, I had yet to learn all the intricacies of the world I had returned to after my exile. This time, ponydom has taken an even greater leap.”

I watched Princess Luna intently, a dark muzzle with pinched features pointed towards the dawn, a somber gaze looking beyond it into the river of time, taking the past and future in at once. She didn’t pay attention to me, or at least wasn’t showing that, giving the impression she was talking to herself. Still, I didn’t dare to interrupt her.

“In those dreams I saw the new government – the Crown, who, thanks to you, I know is secretly run by the queen of changelings.” I tensed, preparing for the worst. “They are neither benevolent rulers nor malevolent ones. But they do their job and it would be unwise to bring more calamity and chaos to the city than it already suffers. I can’t storm the Sky Palace where they reside and retake the throne by force.”

I was barely able to prevent myself from letting out a huge sigh of relief. The conversation was far from its end, but it already sounded promising. Of course Princess Luna wasn’t dumb and she could perfectly understand how precarious the balance of forces was in Canterlot. It was a reasonable attitude, but it didn’t fully reveal her intents.

“Princess Luna, what are you going to do?” I asked, hoping that her monologue was over and I didn’t interrupt her and appear disrespectful.

The Princess finally looked at me with eyes full of deep thought and returned to watching the rising sun.

“Canterlot needs help, and though my knowledge is limited, my power is not,” Princess Luna said after a while. In a less certain tone she added, “Who knows, maybe my name will stir something in the hearts of ponies when the need arises.” It sounded like she wasn’t really sure how she was going to help, but before I could linger on that thought, she spoke once again, this time in a much more positive voice. “And I thought we agreed a long time ago that you don’t have to call me Princess.”

Glancing at Prin… Luna in confusion I was met with a soft smile and eyes twinkling with merriment. It was when an almost forgotten memory surfaced – my last Nightmare Night in Ponyville, and the last in general for that matter. An event that took place even before the war, something that happened ages ago indeed.

However, as sudden as that change in Luna’s demeanor was, just as rapidly her face darkened, a sorrowful expression settling on it.

“Nor do I think I have any right to be called a Princess anytime soon, not after I abandoned my country for so long,“ Luna sadly whispered, grimacing as if from pain. ”Queen Chrysalis bested me, she won the war we had and conquered Canterlot, even though barely anypony knows that. If I want to prove that the lives of ponies still matter to me, I will surrender to her, at least for now,” she said in a hard voice with grim determination in her eyes.

It was so unexpected that I barely paid attention to the fact that Luna had basically done my job for me – renounced her regal right. I was more concerned about her plan.

“But what if she decides to kill you?” I asked worriedly, remembering my fears from before.

“I would be already dead, wouldn’t I?” Luna chuckled with a wry smile. “I know it must sound strange that I’m willing to yield myself as a prisoner to the Swarm…” Her voice trailed off momentarily and she let out a deep sigh before speaking again. “I’m not blind and I can see where fighting Chrysalis has brought me. The sacrifices I made for my vengeance weren’t worth it.” In a surprising gesture she put a hoof on my shoulder, “It doesn’t mean my sister’s death will be forgotten. If Chrysalis has any shred of honor, she will answer for her crimes in a fair trial, once it is all over, for I am afraid Celestia’s life wasn’t the only one she has taken. But no more hunts, that I can promise.”

“And if she refuses?” I highly doubted she would accept.

It took some time for Luna to come up with an answer, but eventually I felt her grip on my shoulder tighten.

“It is not the place for a changeling to rule ponies, sooner or later she will have to step down.” Locking her slitted eyes on me, she said in an icy tone, “Justice will be served.”

A strained silence followed those menacing words of the former Princess.

Technically our conversation could be deemed successful, though I didn’t have to put any effort into it for that to happen, which made it feel deceptively easy. Luna no longer saw herself as a Princess, at least for now. She didn’t state explicitly that her claim to the throne was fully abandoned, but I expected her not to raise that issue until the situation in Canterlot was stabilized and until Chrysalis voluntarily stepped down. The good question here was the span of the changeling queen’s life. On one hoof she wasn’t an alicorn, on another she was a dark mage feeding on love – who knew how it affected her longevity? Anyhow, my concern about Rainbow straight out shooting Luna down before we even started our journey back was gone. I hadn’t fulfilled all of Rainbow’s demands; I didn't want to start persuading Luna to give up on her plans for the distant future. Rainbow wouldn’t know about that, and, frankly, while I could understand the reason why Luna shouldn’t be a ruler right now, I supported the idea of her claiming back her right in the future.

Despite the sun not hiding behind the distant mountain peaks marking the end of the Badlands’ vast valley anymore, Luna and I were the only ones awake. The girls were taking their well needed rest after crossing the desert; Rainbow was too far away to see if she was asleep or not; and Trixie was nowhere to be seen at all, though I could feel her presence if I concentrated hard enough. So, deciding that all of them deserved some rest (while I could miss it one more time), we indulged in small talk started by Luna when she once again wondered aloud about my state of existence. “How did you become a spirit bound to that, eh, impractical set of armor?” Luna asked, letting me know she was aware I was a pony no longer but was still in the dark about how I existed. I spent the next hour and a half filling her in on my misadventures and some concepts she had missed or didn’t quite understand during her dreamwalking session.

Luna’s reaction varied greatly depending on the subject. She was rather sympathetic when it came to a very shortened version of my recent life, but her demeanor became very reserved as I was telling her about equinoids. It was apparent Luna couldn’t decide what to think about the artificial lifeforms, so I decided not to include my knowledge of the Machine Goddess or my own thoughts on that matter. Still, her interest was vivid, and with great curiosity she asked questions about the many marvels of modern technology, some I couldn’t answer, unfortunately.

Again, her response to my companions differed greatly as I described who they were and how I met them. Wire and Flower almost made her tear up – it was widely known Luna had a soft spot for young ones. I carefully omitted mentioning that the relationship between Flower and me was yet to be decided, and I also chose to be silent about Wire’s aspirations. Delight became a source of mild amusement for Luna – in her memory, prostitution was still a fresh practice, legally allowed before her exile to the moon, though she knew her sister’s latest stance on that and, I learned to my shock, didn’t support it.

At first I wanted to avoid mentioning Trixie at all even though it might have caused some awkward questions later. I was torn between the rightful desire to tell Luna all of the truth about Trixie’s past, and indecision to hold that back out of gratitude. After all, Trixie had helped me more than once, and her heart seemed to be in the right place most of the time. However, as I was trying to make a decision on that matter, the silence was broken by Luna, who spoke in a hesitant yet curious tone:

“One of your companions…” her voice momentarily trailed off only to be heard again, but this time laden with nostalgia. “She uses a very peculiar kind of magic. I would say: familiar.”

It seemed like luck wasn’t on my side and I had to explain the situation right now. “About that…” I stammered, since it was apparent Luna knew exactly what kind of magic Trixie used. I fumbled with the words, trying to find a way to explain how I ended up travelling not with just any dark mage, but with somepony who used magic based on Luna’s unique skills, not to mention Trixie’s lack of physical body. “You see…”

I stopped myself in time because I saw Luna’s eyes become transfixed on the horizon, her mind anywhere but here with me. Without a change of expression she began to talk, recalling a memory of days gone very long ago:

“I remember Sombra when he wasn’t a king, but a wandering scholar. It was many decades after Harmony was created, but not too many.” My eyes widened slightly. The events Luna was recalling happened not just ‘long ago’. It was when the written history of ponydom began, even before the Exodus took place. “Starswirl was gone by then, and a lot of ambitious and skilled ponies tried to follow his steps, desiring to make just as significant breakthroughs in magic, something that had yet to be fully understood.” I perked up hearing the name of my favourite historical figure and even felt a little shame, since when I was a filly I had the very same aspirations – to become a mage who would create dozens of new spells or discover a whole new way to wield arcane energies (within the limits of Harmony, of course).

“He came to me wishing to learn the art of dreamwalking,” Luna continued, suddenly frowning deeply. “I recall how I laughed at him – it isn’t just mere knowledge that allows me to enter the Dreamrealm, but the power granted to me by Harmony. Still, that young unicorn was insistent, and deciding to amuse myself I taught him what I knew.”

Luna paused for a few moments, finally tearing her eyes from the sunrise but only to stare at her own hooves. I shuddered as a pair of ghastly eyes surfaced inside her mane and lifelessly observed me before becoming lost in that tumultuous ink again.

“Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t use it,” Luna mirthlessly chuckled. Then she grimaced. “Surprisingly, he gave me some insights into how I could hone my skills and the different ways they can be applied. Knowledge I would deeply regret in time.”

An uneasy silence settled between us. I instantly realized what knowledge Luna was talking about. The dark secrets which allowed her to eclipse the sun and turn into Nightmare Moon. Probably the same which allowed her to look like she did now.

“Trixie regrets it too,” I quietly commented. It seemed like anypony who learned something from King Sombra was bound to meet that fate: a life full of remorse. I might have been willing to reevaluate the definition of dark magic and the ethics of its application, but I would always consider the Ebony Warlock one of the most vile creatures that ever lived in this world.

“She was part of Sombra’s elite, wasn’t she?” Luna asked turning to look in the direction of that cold spot in the magic tapestry I could sense as well, though Trixie herself was still nowhere to be seen.

“Yes, the Coven.” It wasn’t hard to guess. After all, where else could anypony learn such things? Other than leather-bound books. Sadly, the fact that Luna didn’t know the name of the infamous organization showed how little she cared for the Great War, though I decided not to linger on that thought. “But she claims she has changed,” I added with a scoff.

“You sound like you don’t believe her, Twilight.”

“I’m not so sure myself,” I muttered.

Luna tried to sound sympathetic, but all I could hear was an accusation. Trixie was nothing but helpful from what I told Luna, but I didn’t treat her according to that. Since I had met Trixie in the Deep Tunnels she never showed any signs of being a bad pony. Sure, she was a living shadow, which was very ominous and eerie, but she didn’t act evil, quite the opposite in fact. However, I couldn’t know who she was once, save for one old sound recording and the stories she told me herself. Nor did I know her long enough to draw any concrete conclusions.

“She helped you,” Luna began, echoing my thoughts and making me wince slightly, “and led you here even though she couldn’t know what I would do to her.”

That last part made me cast a wary glance at Luna.

“Are you going to punish her?” Luna might not have much knowledge about the Coven’s crimes, but she surely knew the nature of Trixie’s magic and the influence inherited from their founder.

Raising her eyebrow in surprise, Luna replied with a question of her own, “For what?”

“She is a war criminal. A traitor.” Had Luna noticed that second shadow? “A murderer.”

“The point of punishment is not to make a nocent suffer, but to make them understand that they were wrong. And if you said Trixie regrets her decisions then there is no need to bring more misery into her life.” Seeing disappointment on my face she added with a frown on her own, “Having no real physical body for many centuries should have been enough from a formal point of view anyway.”

Though Luna did sound right, I still had trouble agreeing with her. If Trixie truly regretted her decisions, why wouldn’t she relinquish that stolen shadow from her grasp? It was obvious that poor pony or whatever was left of her was held against her will.

Back at Dodge City I decided to leave Trixie’s judgement to Luna, and here we were. It still wasn’t my place, but it didn’t feel like it was Luna’s either. She was either lost in reverie, recalling the distant past, or she simply didn’t care enough. It was obvious the horrors inflicted on ponykind by the Coven went unnoticed by her. Maybe if she saw the whole picture, she wouldn’t be so lenient.

“I can see that your friend, Rainbow Dash, has conquered the river of time as well,” Luna jerked me out of my own musings with a question both unexpected and undesirable. Discussing Trixie was a delicate matter, but Rainbow Dash was a whole other level, not to mention that it was a volatile situation which had a chance to escalate into a physical confrontation. Considering the opposing forces, its outcome would be devastating.

“Yes,” I levelly answered while frantically thinking about how should I present the situation to Luna.

“I expected you to sound happy about this.” Despite me trying to keep a straight face, I couldn’t help but let it contort with displeasure. I expected myself to be happy as well, and I was, at first. But then I realized how much Rainbow had changed. We had our disagreements even before the fateful accident, and I hoped we would still be able to come to an understanding. But after the last two confrontations I wasn’t sure there was, or could be, friendship between us. Pouring salt on the wound, Luna asked, “Or did something happen during the short time you had since the reunion?”

Did Luna need to know that the former bearer of the Element of Loyalty was more than ready to kill her? But she needed to know she must tread lightly and be cautious in her choice of words and actions near Rainbow Dash even though she shouldn’t have any problem with Luna’s agenda anymore.

“She is a captain of the Royal Guard now,” I stated, hoping that it would be enough for Luna to understand to whom Rainbow’s loyalty lay.

“Ah, I see.” To my discontent Luna accompanied that with a wise nod usually reserved for situations where one doesn’t care in the slightest but is bound to react somehow. “I suppose that is quite an unexpected turn of events. But considering everything we know and do not, I believe she must have done the right thing.”

“She joined Chrysalis’ forces!” I hissed casting a cautious look in Rainbow’s direction. The armor clad mare sat gazing at the dawn quite a distance from us. She was probably asleep, but if she was not, I hoped she couldn’t hear this conversation anyway.

“Rainbow Dash is the Bearer of the Element of Loyalty and a loyal soldier,” Luna calmly retorted. “The decisions she made must have been hard, but for the best.”

“And what if she is to carry out orders that go against my or your will?” I snapped back. For Luna it would sound like a general question, but I had some concrete examples in my head.

Luna let out a deep sigh and tore her eyes from the sunrise to grace me with a sympathetic look which more than slightly clashed with the eyes of Nightmare Moon. “I know it must be not easy for you, Twilight, but try to understand: the war with Sombra is long over and it was won even though the price was too great. The war we had with the Swarm is over as well, but it didn’t end in our favor.” I opened my mouth to retort, but Luna raised her hoof signifying she had more to say. “When you are defeated, you are rarely in a position to negotiate, and it is unwise to try and fight back.”

I shut my mouth and frowned. For a mare who had lost that much, if not in both at least in one war, Luna was way too eager to give up. Overall, she seemed to be strangely at peace with some things that disturbed me deeply like Trixie’s past or Rainbow’s present. However, there wasn’t much I could do in this situation, other than maybe rely mostly on myself in this huge mess.

Seeing my discontent, Luna quietly said, raising her eyebrows in a bit of a conspiratorial way, “At least for now.”

That made me smile – whatever Luna had in mind, she wasn’t throwing in the towel, at least not as much as I imagined. Though she implied that I might need a lot of patience.

It seemed like our chat had to come to an end: everypony was beginning to wake up, or appearing from where she was hiding in the case of Trixie. Slumbering huddled together on the rocky ground was a poor substitute for proper sleep and it was quite apparent on Wire and Delight’s faces. But I was more worried about their medical condition. Luna’s anesthetic spell hadn’t solved the problem, and we needed to return to the city as soon as possible, which was now my primary concern. I still hadn’t talked to Rainbow about this, and right now seemed like the best time, or, rather, the issue couldn’t be avoided any longer since we had reached our ‘objective’. However, I wasn’t going to approach that matter until I checked on Tin Flower, who I could see stirring in her bedding.

By the time I came to Flower, she was already on her hooves, blinking groggily and talking quietly with Wire in a hoarse voice. Delight sat nearby, flexing her wing with a pained grimace – it didn’t look like she was going to fly until her wounds were fully treated. As I was getting closer to them, I slowed down. Delight’s words were still fresh in my mind, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to treat Flower the same anymore, not without thinking about how she would perceive my every action. However, my decision to remain indecisive was still in force. I would treat her like my friend, no more and no less.

“How do you feel?” I asked Flower when I finally stood behind her back.

That prompted the filly to whip her head around in a motion too sudden for her body, judging by how she winced. Yet her face melted into a smile as she saw me. Feeling awkward, I consciously mirrored her expression.

“Like I could kill for a TCE ration,” Flower grumbled jokingly, reminding me of one more compelling reason to head back to Canterlot. Though the fact she was feeling hungry and being able to jest about it were good signs, I still believed she should have a medical examination along with Del and Wire. I didn’t doubt Luna’s medical skills, but I couldn’t forget how heavily Flower was bleeding in Dodge City.

“I guess that’s how the Princess looks. I should thank her, shouldn’t I?” Flower spoke again trying to look over my shoulder to see Luna. In the corner of my eye I saw Wire wrinkle her nose as her friend mentioned Luna’s, well, former title.

“Can’t see why not,” I commented with an approving nod, glad that at least Flower wasn’t going to break Luna’s heart. “Though you don’t have to call her Princess – she doesn’t like that.” I saw Del giving me a sidelong glance, I suspected that she might have overheard the not-so-quiet conversation I had with Rainbow. Even if she knew the true reasons behind that remark, she refrained from any questions or comments.

“I should probably start by thanking you, Twilight,” Tin Flower said wrapping her hooves around my neck. I returned the hug but only after a slight pause. My eyes met Del’s and I knew she noticed my momentary hesitation. I couldn’t tell by her expression, but I could guess she was judging me. I should have told her I was waiting for this mess to be resolved before making any big decisions. Now she must have been thinking I was playing with the filly’s feelings.

“So, when we are heading back?” Red Wire asked impatiently. Considering that she refused Luna’s help, her wounded eye must have gotten worse over the night, judging by the filly’s uncomfortable expression. However, it wasn’t that which caught my attention. It sounded like she expected to be dropped off at the Edge. While I couldn’t deny the possibility of that, I expected them to still be considered witnesses, ‘valuable assets’,and thus be taken to the Sky Palace with me and Luna.

As if Rainbow heard us, despite standing quite a distance away (that moment I began to suspect that her suit was enhancing her hearing, which made me wonder how much of my conversation with Luna she could have heard as well), she began to trot toward us. At the same moment, Luna headed in our direction as well, with Trixie in tow.

“The convoy is going to be here by approximately sunset,” Rainbow loudly stated as soon as our entire company could hear her. As if she read my mind she added, “There have been unexpected delays, so it embarked from the Sky Palace only an hour ago.” That explained why it would take so long, since I expected them to be halfway here already, but left open the question of what was happening in Canterlot in our absence.

“We can’t wait so long, the young one here needs immediate help!” Luna suddenly and indignantly objected, referring to Wire. A muscle twitched on Rainbow’s face, but it was so brief I thought I imagined it. The filly in question grimaced in discontent but said nothing.

“What is your suggestion, then?” Rainbow said in a perfectly neutral tone. If she was displeased with the situation (I was sure she was), nothing in her voice or expression betrayed it.

I looked at Luna, curious as to what she had in mind. I had seen the blistering speed Rainbow could reach with her armor, but even at that pace, it would take her hours to cover the distance between here and Canterlot. And we needed a vehicle, which was probably the reason why the convoy couldn’t arrive faster.

“I can teleport us,” Luna simply said, either oblivious to the negative reactions or ignoring them. However, she almost imperceptibly stammered on the word ‘us’ as if not sure if she should refer to herself in conjunction with the others.

More than one pair of brows shot up, including my own. I had no doubts about Luna’s power. After all, I, an undead mechanical unicorn, was able to warp basically the same group of ponies across a great distance (though it was more of an exceptional case than something common). But we were talking about a distance greater than a week’s worth of relentless march, not to mention that she had no image of the final destination (I wasn’t sure the Sky Palace from dreams counted).

As if feeling my confusion, she promptly clarified, “I’m going to do a series of short jumps, but I’m sure it is possible and much faster.” Towering above us, she was shifting her gaze between each of us, but mainly looking at Rainbow and me expectantly.

While I was all for it – waiting for the convoy would leave us for the entire day without food and delay much needed medical help – it wasn’t my decision to make, unfortunately. And knowing Rainbow’s disposition towards the ‘expendable civilians’, I didn’t hold much hope.

For some time Rainbow Dash stared to the north through the rocky pass, where Canterlot was supposed to be, her forehead creased with a deep frown. Finally she turned back to us, “That would save us time and put us at less risk – escorting a flying transport is as good as putting a target on our backs. I only need to make some arrangements and we are good to go.”

With that, Rainbow spoke again, her lips moving rigidly, but this time no sound came from her. It took me a moment to realize that she was talking with somepony or somechangeling without including any of us in that conversation, thanks to her helmet. It took another moment for a question to appear in my mind: how many times had she consulted with her command in our presence? Also, I was now pretty sure that Queen Chrysalis had heard all our talks.

Anyhow, Rainbow finished her short call and nodded to Pri… Luna. It would take me some time to stop thinking of her that way, though I should be careful to not let my proverbial tongue slip in the presence of Rainbow.

Luna nodded back and breaking into a measured trot headed to the pass between the crags, expecting us to follow her. Due to her long alicorn legs, that ‘measured’ trot resulted in her waiting for us to catch up as she sat before the sandy expanse, surveying the horizon with her huge mane whipping in the wind like an ominous banner.

She turned to meet us, spreading her tattered wings with ruffled, uneven feathers which seemed to have not received preening for ages (which was, in fact, true, but at least they lacked membranes like Nightmare Moon’s wings had), and motioned, “Come closer, my little ponies.” The way she referred to us almost made me cringe, so alien it sounded coming from a mare with her ghastly appearance. I hated to admit it, but only her sister could pull that vocative off.

As we huddled closer under the shadow of her plumage, I could read uncertainty on the faces of my companions – none of them had experienced teleportation before. Actually they had, basically hours ago… but that didn’t go so well. Even Trixie, a mare I expected to be familiar with the procedure, looked concerned.

Luna’s horn flashed almost blindingly bright, and without warning the world violently lurched, for a split second becoming dark, only for the scenery to suddenly change, disorienting me.

The first thing that met me after I regained my senses was the sound of retching. When I turned my head around I was met with the sight of Tin Flower attempting to empty her stomach as she leaned on me with her metal hoof. I couldn’t tell if she was lucky she had nothing there to begin with.

Red Wire was swaying on her hooves and heaving, but winning the battle with her digestive system. Del managed even better, though judging by the green hue of her face, she wasn’t spared. Trixie was battling with her shadow once again, making everypony take a step away from her and Luna shoot her a wary look. Rainbow and I seemed to be the only ones unaffected by the jump, Luna herself not taken into account, obviously. However, it was expected, teleportation often needs getting used to, except...

“That wasn’t a teleportation spell, was it?” I asked in a low voice addressing Luna, for I felt it wasn’t something my companions needed to hear right now. I could write it off as a side effect of the distance being longer than I normally tried to skip or the sheer amount of power used, but there wasn’t supposed to be a moment of darkness, much less stars seen during it. Nor could I remember Luna’s magic aura being white unless she called for the moon to help.

“No, indeed. It was a trick I learned from the night sky,” Luna answered, not bothering to lower her voice like I did, even sounding a bit proud. “But it is absolutely safe, I assure you.”

Tin Flower grumbled something at my side, the only words I could discern were obscenities. Luna raised her brow in a display of bemusement and I hoped her hearing wasn’t better than mine.

Luna flared her wings up, silently signifying that were about to be transported again and we came closer. Again, for a moment too brief I was met with that I now believed was space, only to be yanked out of it into the just as desolate desert. The sight that met my eyes could have made oil freeze in my tubes if that was possible.

We had ended up on the edge of a vast sinkhole, a former stone quarry, according to Rainbow’s words. It was a vast indentation in the rocky soil, a dry crumbled stone bowl of enormous proportion stretched in front of us, exposing the ulcerous womb of the land to the sky. Half an hour away from us, Dodge City was perched on the rim of an abandoned mine, looking insidiously normal. The only thing betraying its wretched nature was that boiling mirage above the caved-in rooftops, which I knew now was reality failing to hold itself together, shifting incessantly.

Luna regarded the Junction with a very concerned look, yet said nothing. I didn’t have the time to fully describe to her how wrong and terrifying that place was, but if my laconic descriptions didn’t make the point, Flower’s magic injury must have served as sufficient proof.

Either Luna made the last jump more merciful, or the girls were quickly getting used to those jumps – it didn’t take them long to recover this time. A pair of great feathery appendages eclipsed the sun and we readily hid in their shadow – everypony was eager to get away from this place.

The jump brought us to the middle of nowhere with the tiny dark spot of Dodge City on the horizon being the only thing standing out of the desert’s monotony. That made me guess that Luna was warping us as far as she could see, taking into account how sharp her alicorn sight was. At this pace we would be in Canterlot in less than half a dozen jumps.

Luna allowed us as much time to come round as it took me to come to that conclusion. Like two standards of night her wings shot up, inviting us closer. Her horn became a beacon of moonlight, and once again we witnessed the void between the stars, even if for the briefest of moments.

This time we didn’t warp into another part of the empty desert’s heart. Well, in fact we did, but not quite. Small metal debris, twisted and singed, littered the dark, sooty shell crater. A patch of caked blood on disturbed sand. It took me a few seconds to realize I was looking at what remained from our wreckage. The bodies, both of griffins and Trixie were gone along with the cart. That made me wonder who got there first: the Crown or the Pink Butterflies.

Before proceeding with the next teleportation, Luna left our group and approached the hole in the stone torn by explosives. I saw her stare at it with a frown, her gaze then shifting to the almost black stain peppered with stuck feathers quivering in the breeze. She knew about the Pink Butterflies, she saw them in the dreams and I had completed her knowledge with my own. But dreams were dreams, vague reflections of reality in the subconscious of ponies, and those fresh scars of war going on in Canterlot were as real as they could be.

Luna returned to us with a grim expression plastered on her face and just as silently as before obscured the view mere moments before warping us closer to the nightmares of Canterlot.

We materialized on a patch of wilted grass. It wasn’t much, but I was glad to see any vegetation and variety after witnessing how barren the desert was and learning how the Badlands had earned their name. Luna looked around as usual, taking in the surroundings and casting a squinted look at the horizon, memorizing our next destination. This time she hesitated for a moment and simultaneously Rainbow came closer to her, making me tense in worry.

It was Luna who spoke first. “I can see a bridge in the distance, I’m not sure I can jump beyond it. Is it safe to approach?”

While describing our journey to the Badlands I omitted the part about the hostile squatters on the bridge, so she had no idea, but she could probably see it was overgrown with squalid homes. I supposed Rainbow was about to warn her, but I also had a bad feeling that there was something more to it.

“Negative,” came the brisk answer from Rainbow before I could intervene. It was swiftly followed by a question that sounded more like an order, “Can you drop us half a kilometer from it?”

Luna carefully nodded and, glancing in the bridge’s direction again to gauge the distance, opened up her wings. Not wanting to break her concentration, I remained silent. The fact that I didn’t really know what was going on also left me mute – I didn’t really want to jump to any accusations and compromise the delicate balance between Luna, Rainbow and me.

As expected, we appeared at the asked distance from the bridge, give or take a dozen meters. Rainbow immediately split from out group, taking a few steps towards the bridge. My proverbial heart skipped a beat as I heard her shoulder-mounted cannons come to life with their trademark sinister hum. I instantly knew what she was planning to do.

“Hold position,” Rainbow threw over her shoulder and crouched ready to rocket into the sky.

Wasting no time I dashed to her side, calling her hoping to prevent the take off, “Wait!” And though I guessed already, I still asked, “What are you going to do?”

Rainbow paused. Still in a low stance, she turned her head to regard me with a passionless gaze and curtly replied, “Serve justice.” Though I expected her to soar into the sky after that, she hesitated for some reason.

I frowned momentarily, but not only because I wasn’t approving of Rainbow’s course of action – it was making no sense. She was on a mission, and dealing with the squatters was a distraction not requiring immediate attention. She must have been mad at them for setting us up, but she wasn’t letting her emotions dictate her actions, rather the opposite. She could deal with it later or send other Royal Guards. For all I knew she could have sent a group here already if she wanted.

“What is this all about?” came Luna’s worried voice from behind me as she grew curious of what was distracting us from jumping to the next point.

That moment, I realized Luna was the reason why Rainbow wasn’t already murdering the bridge’s population. There was a gleam in Rainbow’s eyes, the cold calculating clarity of somepony who was preparing for combat. But massacring defenseless villagers had nothing to do with it. We didn’t stop here because Rainbow wanted to punish the bridge inhabitants; she couldn’t care any less for them. It was bait. A test if Luna would intervene. Despite her orders, Rainbow’s corrupted loyalty was demanding she eliminate the former Princess. But she couldn’t do it without good reason. So if Luna stood in Rainbow’s way, if she tried to obstruct the so-called justice, she wasn’t coming to Canterlot alive. It made little sense to dispose of an ‘asset’ so ‘valuable’ over an issue so insignificant in comparison, but apparently it was enough for Rainbow’s twisted logic.

“The ponies on that bridge illegally settled on it. They knowingly provided false information resulting in putting government representatives and our operation at risk. There is a high possibility they then disclosed said operation to terrorists, resulting in an armed assault,” Rainbow barked each sentence in a harsh tone, but not because she was angry – her face resembled stone with only her mouth moving – those words couldn’t be said in any other way. “That is treason and attempted murder followed by multiple minor offenses. Their sentence is death,” she grimly finished.

“What!?” Luna exploded in indignation, her eyes growing wide with shock, “There are dozens of ponies in that village! Including children!” she yelled at Rainbow pointing with her hoof in the bridge’s direction.

I barely looked at Luna. My eyes were transfixed on Rainbow’s guns, their barrels becoming aimed at the alicorn’s head. I knew Luna wouldn’t be expecting the shot as much as I knew she wouldn’t survive it either. I had barely seen those cannons in action, but I had seen the damage they caused to both flesh and metal; their firepower was tremendous.

Rainbow had a point, those squatters had tried to kill us more than once. They deserved to answer for their actions. I didn’t forget how close Flower came to death, and the wounds Del and Wire still bore were proof. But it wasn’t right to just wipe out that settlement. The point of justice was in redemption, not vengeance. They didn’t deserve to die.

With a wave of desperation and hopelessness I understood with perfect clarity that the fate of those ponies wasn’t what was to be decided right now. They were as good as dead, there was nothing Luna or I could do about it. It was Rainbow Dash trying Luna for being guilty in princesshood, and the penalty for such a transgression stood the same: death.

If I didn’t want that to happen right before me, I had to side with Rainbow and prove her point to Luna, though I was sure Rainbow herself was aware how wrong it all was. It didn’t matter to her if I had to sacrifice my morals, it didn’t matter if those ponies would die. All she was interested in was to determine if Luna was a hazard. Rainbow was more of a machine than any equinoid I had ever met, and I had to mimic her way.

I quickly stood between Luna and Rainbow, hoping that my value as an asset was greater than Luna being a threat in Rainbow’s eyes. Frantically gathering my thoughts, I whipped my head to the former Princess. “There are no foals at that bridge.” It could be true – I saw none there, but that didn’t mean anything. I had to weigh foals’ lives against the life of the last alicorn. I didn’t want to think if it was a fair exchange, but my decision had to be made. With a heavy heart I continued to weave lies to convince Luna that it was the right thing to do. “They are armed and were going to open fire at us when we first came here. They sent us to Dodge City!”

Mention of that vile place swayed Luna’s conviction a little – she saw how catastrophic the results were herself. But I could still see a righteous fire burning in her eyes. Pointing her hoof at Rainbow she boomed in an angry tone, almost in the Royal Canterlot voice, “You pass sentence upon citizens-”

“They are not,” Rainbow rudely interrupted her, making me wonder if she was agitating Luna on purpose. For her they didn’t even count as part of Equestria anymore. Even if they were citizens… Flower, Del and Wire were citizens as well, but that didn’t stop Rainbow from deeming them expendable. Once again that terrifying parallel appeared in my mind – for Rainbow, ponies were nothing more than numbers for a calculator.

“Even if they are not,” Luna continued with a frown, not allowing that display of disrespect to get to her, “who are you to bring a verdict?”

It was taking me everything to keep myself as passionless as Rainbow. It was a spectacle, we both knew, and only Luna was taking it seriously. The problem was that as long as she wasn’t playing along she was going to win the argument. And die.

“I am the captain of the Royal Guard, the second in command officer in Equestria, responsible for its security and peace,” Rainbow snapped back as if Luna should know that already. In a voice too cold she added, “I am judge, jury and executioner.”

Luna wrinkled her nose in a momentary hesitation and quickly came up with a counterargument, “You have authority to dispense judgment only during wartime, then. Those ponies deserve a civilian trial.”

Luna stood correct. But that was the problem, she couldn’t be if she wanted to live. Did she realize it wasn’t the lives of those ponies at stake right now? I didn’t explicitly tell Luna that Rainbow was ready to kill her, I had faith in Rainbow and myself. I suspected that if I revealed Rainbow’s true intentions, Luna would strike first, and I didn’t want to lose Rainbow even though I couldn’t recognize her anymore, especially right now.

“Do you want that trial to be conducted by Queen Chrysalis?” I quickly came with a retort, trying not to sound like I was opposing Luna, but acting as a neutral arbiter, which I was not. “And even with our forces combined we cannot possibly apprehend those criminals.”

Our eyes locked in a silent battle – Luna’s, burning with fulmination, disbelief and disappointment, and mine, glowing artificial mirrors which could barely reflect my heart in them. But I hoped, I prayed Luna would see in those pieces of glass alight with neon the truth I couldn’t speak out loud.

Finally, she did. I saw the slitted irises expand in comprehension followed by immense hurt. Luna was no fool. I could see she finally understood that if she tried to start redeeming herself after all she had done, if she tried to do a just thing, she was going to die for it.

“It doesn’t have to be done right now, does it?” Luna objected much more weakly, still looking me in the eyes, her voice breaking. “Surely they are not an issue that must be dealt with as soon as possible,” she added lifelessly. Now everypony was an actor here.

“But they are,” I replied in a hollow voice. We both just had to pretend until some logical conclusion that we didn’t care for the villagers. I continued to drone, “The Royal Guard already has problems in Canterlot demanding their attention. Who knows how many ponies will be killed at sight or sent to a sure and horrible death before those squatters are finally dealt with?”

Luna wanted to surrender to Queen Chrysalis, but before that she had to surrender her crown and heart to the empty angel of blind justice Rainbow Dash had become. That was the price to enter the heavenly temple perched above the city. And she wasn’t the only one paying it.

“Fine then,” Luna said in a trembling voice, but it became somewhat mocking after she took a shuddering breath, “do as you deem right, Captain Dash.”

Rainbow gave me a long unreadable look I returned with contempt. She didn’t seem to care. As she crouched low, the turbine of her suit hummed and a moment later she rocketed into the sky leaving a cloud of disturbed dust and dry glass hovering in the air.

Scowling, Luna turned away from the bridge and from me, but not fast enough to hide the tears streaming down her cheeks.

My eyes locked on the miserable settlement clinging to the old bridge. How many ponies lived there? A dozen? Two? More? They weren’t completely sane, they weren’t innocent either. In truth, they weren’t much different from the mare by my side trying to hide sobs. Yet I traded their lives without hesitation, and the worst part was that if I happened to end up in the same situation again, I would make the same choice.

Rainbow temporarily became lost from sight beyond the curtain of leaden clouds drifting from the city. But not for long – soon she appeared right above the bridge, falling into a breakneck nose-dive. The roar of the magic engine that encased her in that suit forever reached my hearing, a bone-chilling howl of enchanted armor in truth empty inside save for a shrivelled husk of a pony. Fast as lightning, two shining tears dropped from her silhouette only a split second later to make the bridge bloom with fiery flowers of immolating death.

Despite the distance between us and the burning village, I could clearly hear the screams of dying ponies on the wind, and it took only a few minutes for the gusts to start bringing the ashes and smell of char as well.

Rainbow was darting back and forth like an angry wasp, disappearing into the crumbling ruins to light them up with the malignant shine of her weapons’ blasts, sending splinters and torn flesh flying into the churning black waters below. The air was split with the resounding cracks of rifles thundering above the agonizing dirge of the settlement convulsing in futile self-defense.

Frozen like a statue, unable to avert my eyes from the sight, I gazed at the blazing village. I could see the remote flames reflected on my body where the paint peeled off, making me appear as if I was smouldering, eaten by the flames raging inside me. As the bridge and its inhabitants were turning to ash, I could feel a part of me fading away as well.

The massacre felt like it lasted for hours if not days, but in reality less than twenty minutes passed before the only sound filling the air was the restrained sniffling coming from the midnight-black alicorn. The Royal Guard was efficient in its job.

The bridge was no longer aglow, it just belched thin columns of smoke – driftwood burnt out quickly and only the charred bodies continued to be slowly eaten by flames. After one final lap around the smoldering ruins Rainbow headed back to us. The inertia of her landing was turned into a measured trot, making her appear not as a soldier who just wiped a settlement, but as a mare on a morning jog. Rainbow stopped a few lengths away from me and Luna, far enough to show she was aware she wasn’t welcome in our company right now, but close enough to remind us with her presence that she was ready to move on to the next destination.

Swirling my head around, I caught sight of the girls huddled together, remembering them for the first time since we ended up here. They looked scared, terrified even, in the case of Delight. For Wire and Flower it was just another display of the Crown’s violence, but as frightening as it was, it also must have been confusing, at least the scene that took place before. Delight, who overheard my talk with Rainbow right after we found Luna, knew exactly what unfolded before her.

If Trixie had something to say about that, she remained silent. Overall, after we had met Luna she was very quiet and I couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t what she was expecting to find.

My gaze settled on Luna. Her face was a mask of many emotions, a bitter helplessness the most prominent of them. Her slitted eyes were narrowed to the ground, blazing with a dark fury, though I couldn’t tell at whom it might be directed – herself or Rainbow, both options were equally possible.

I moved closer to Luna and she spared me a pained glance before turning back to look at Rainbow with an expression not full of hate, but simply deeply disappointed. She held it for a few moments before lifelessly raising her wings. Everypony shuffled under her shadow, their heads low. Only Rainbow acted like nothing happened, her face as dispassionate as ever. Luna fixed her eyes in the distance, and as I followed them I saw the short peak of Rambling Rock Ridge which would serve as one of the final points on our journey to Canterlot. The alicorn’s horn glowed with the light of stars, and the world momentarily faded away.

The moment I appeared above the abandoned mines, my face was hit by a gust of wind carrying rain. Though, it wasn’t much of a rain, but a drizzle that made moisture hang in the air. On the top of that crag, winds ran freely, hurtling those tiny drops around in waves. The problem was in the water gathering on the surface of my eyes, obscuring my vision. I was wiping it away wondering if there was some other way to deal with that issue when I heard a choking sound. Turning my head around, trying to determine from who it was coming I saw nothing wrong – the girls seemed to be alright. Then my eyes fell on Luna.

With wide eyes she was staring into the distance, her lower jaw trembling as if she was witnessing something horrible beyond comprehension. I looked in that direction and instantly understood – she saw Canterlot.

It was one thing to see the reflection of that city in the Dreamrealm, where it was hard to tell truth from imagination, where everything was processed through the dreamer’s mind. And Luna had hardly witnessed the whole picture. In a bitter irony I realized that she was in the same place I was not so long ago, even not that far from the physical location. Unfortunately, she seemed to take it as well as I did.

Coming closer to her I put my hoof on her shoulder and felt her shaking, the edge of her armor rattling against the metal of my limb. I didn’t think she even noticed me, so overwhelmed with the surreal view she was. There was nothing else I could do but be there for her in that moment, to stand by her side and observe the decaying landscape as she was dealing with the shock.

Minutes passed and Luna began to calm down, at least her she didn’t appear like she would pass out at any moment. Her body shuddered one more time and she whispered very softly, so only I could hear, “I’m so sorry. I should have never left.”

Just as quietly I replied, “Nopony could know it would be like this.” If I were asked five hundred years ago what would become of Equestria, I wouldn’t be able to even imagine the depth to which ponydom had fallen.

Apparently, our conversation wasn’t as clandestine as we wanted it to be and was taken by Rainbow as a sign to continue, judging by the sound of gravel crunching under the armor-clad hooves as she approached from behind. She evened with us and pointed towards the center of the city, saying, “See that tall building with ‘Kashmare Sewing Industries’ logo?” Luna curtly nodded after a few moments, though I couldn’t see it no matter how hard I squinted through the rain. A bit later I remembered that it wasn’t how my eyes worked. “Teleport us there, we will proceed on hoof,” Rainbow ordered.

“Why can’t we jump straight to the Sky Palace?” I asked. We made it to Canterlot much faster than it was initially planned and even though I couldn’t see that tower I was sure I was in the Inner City, but it still was some distance we had to cover.

“The Sky Palace’s protection prevents any teleportation within its limits,” Rainbow impatiently explained. In retrospect I should have expected that, it was a sensible thing to implement. “Kashmare,” she continued, “are the Crown’s allies. They won’t mind too much if we drop on the top of their building.”

For the last time we gathered under the cover of Luna’s black feathers. Her horn flashed with a slightly bluish-tinted white light as she called for the moon to lend her the power, and we appeared on the top of a roof a moment of cosmic darkness later.

All around me neon shone through the mist that drifted from the clouds hanging low, so close to us I could reach them with my magic. As I looked around I saw that we had ended up on a platform, likely a landing pad, surrounded by a vast array of radio antennas. The small crystals on the corners of the concrete octagon air-stop were lethargically blinking with an angry red. It was nestling on the edge of the roof, even overhanging a bit over the street, allowing me and others to take a look at the avenue teeming with life very far below. The girls’ wide eyes were instantly glued to it, greedily and enviously taking in the striking immaculacy of the Inner City, a ground forbidden to them.

It didn’t last for long, however. Rainbow waited only a few moments, and only because she was silently consulting with the voices in her helmet. As soon as she was done she began to briskly trot towards the entrance to the roof neighboured by dozens of humming vents. I coughed to bring the attention of the girls, who couldn’t tear their gazes from the brilliance of the city. Even Luna was looking around in admiration, captivated by the display of exquisite architecture and shining colors. As we were walking to the door left open by Rainbow, a flying carriage (moving without pegasi!) soared above our heads, making the girls follow it with amazed looks and startling Luna who ruffled her wings in response.

Inside the building we had to go down a few stairs before we ended up in a well-lit and perfectly maintained corridor of white marble. Unceremoniously, leaving dirty hoofprints on the polished floor, Rainbow marched to the panel on the wall adjacent to a set of double doors – an elevator. A surprisingly short time after she pressed the button the doors opened with a melodic ring welcoming us into the elevator’s interior.

The mirror covered walls gave me a false impression of it being bigger than it actually was, so we had to make a few tries before we all fit into the elevator. Considering that nopony could touch Trixie save for Rainbow, and Luna was subtly but actively avoiding standing by her side, it required some effort. My body unable to bend or be compressed wasn’t helping the issue. Delight ended up being tightly pressed into Luna’s side, which was driving the impressible pegasus to the edge of hysterics. Wire, being as sharp-tongued as she was, suggested that Flower shove her metal hoof up her ass if she didn’t know where to put it, which earned stern glares from both Luna and me. But, finally, Rainbow pressed a button on the panel inside the lift and we began to descend. Only halfway I realized that probably nothing was preventing us from making it in two trips. At least it took less than a minute of waiting before the doors opened, letting us spill from the cramped space.

We found ourselves right in the middle of a spacious foyer, dozens of surprised eyes pointed at us. Ponies in suits froze midway staring at us, workers in front of and behind the counters looked at us in bewilderment. Silence, save for the din of the street coming through the opened doors and a melodic yet mechanical voice unrelentingly making announcements, took reign over the luxurious vestibule.

“Move along, citizens!” Rainbow boomed menacingly and the entrance hall instantly resumed its busy life almost as if we stopped exist for those ponies. ‘Almost’ because I could see many of the ponies milling around stealing us curious and wary glances. Wasting no time Rainbow headed to the door leading to the street, leaving us to follow her.

The Inner City was so unlike any other parts of Canterlot I happened to visit. It was pristine, it was clean and it was beautiful. Rust and grime were nowhere to be seen. The ponies trotting by looked healthy and for once resembled citizens of a future city instead of thugs and vagrants. Even the rare equinoids obediently following ponies looked like they had rolled off the production line five minutes ago.

Ablaze with cyan and pink neon, gleaming towers of business centres rose to the sky like a forest of massive glass trees. Entrances, topped with sophisticated names of companies housed inside, bustled with a flow of ponies constantly walking in and out. A few stories above, pegasusless carriages darted through the colorful fog.

The wretched heart of Canterlot, a monolith of the Crown loomed above all, its sinister shadow eclipsing the sun barely visible through the dense fog. It wasn’t far away, in fact the street we were on led straight to the Sky Palace’s dark grey walls. Rainbow was already marching there.

Letting her stay a few steps ahead, I followed with Luna, Trixie and the girls in tow. The latter were looking around with wide eyes and I couldn’t blame them – after a life spent in the dirt of the Edge and the Outer City, it was a paradise. However, as much as they were captivated by our surroundings, we all didn’t go unnoticed.

It was hard to not pay attention to the gasps of ponies who saw us. I didn’t know if it was caused by the presence of the Royal Guard, but many ponies were running out of our way or just fleeing from us in panic. Fear and bewilderment weren’t the only reactions we were receiving. I could hear them commenting loudly on our haggard appearances, referring to me as a heap of scrap, Del as a whore and the girls as the Edge filth. But Luna was getting it the worst – she was called an ugly mutant. A monster.

I warned her she wasn’t likely to be recognized, and not only because of how she looked – ponies no longer remembered the Princesses. Luna trotted forward with her head low, wincing every time an anonymous voice from the crowd branded her with another humiliating affront.

Suddenly I found myself much closer to Rainbow’s armored flanks than I expected or liked. She stopped and was engaged in a furious exchange, a turn in events I missed as I was focused on the malice of the street.

I looked over her shoulder and frowned. In front of her, four policeponies stood, preventing passage due to the bulk of their blue-painted armors.

“Clear the way, this is a government operation!” Rainbow barked at them, but the policeponies didn’t flinch. I noticed how her visor was concealed with the metal plates of her armor.

Almost likewise, the policeponies’ faces were hidden behind their helmets, so only their muzzles stuck out bearing uniform sour expressions. A mare and three stallions, I noted. The mare was a unicorn along with one of the stallions, who was facing Rainbow. Though, her being a mare wasn’t the only difference: her armor was a bit bulkier with some strange protrusions all over the plates. On her flanks two spools of thick wire hung with their hooked ends fastened on her shoulders. A massive ring resided at the base of her horn with leads branching from it to the back of her neck and further.

“We have received no information about any active operations,” one of the officers snarkily retorted, a bigger stallion with a poorly shaved chin and yellow teeth. “And what kind of operation includes… one, two, three fugitives, a mutant, a custom equnoid and…” -he glanced at Trixie and wrinkled his nose in disgust- “whatever the fuck that is?”

“That is none of your business,” Rainbow snapped back at him. “Get the fuck out of my way.”

The officer looked at his colleagues, they nodded to him and he turned to face Rainbow again, “I don’t think so.” His horn became aglow with magic and a baton sharply snapped from a holder on his shoulder crackling with electricity. “A custom equinoid is a major criminal offense, and you armored clowns sure know it. That goes beyond any agreements between the TCE and the Crown,” the stallion said spitting on the ground. “Grid, ‘cute the gembucket,” he addressed the mare. “We will arrest the others.”

With worry (and a bit of fascination) I saw how the policemare’s armor lit up along with her horn, the protrusions of her armor sparkling, magic energy surging from the now shining ring through the cables. Her telekinesis picked up the hooks and she began to swish them through the air like two lassos.

I heard Rainbow’s guns turning on and to my shock, a split second later, before I expected them to become fully operational, in almost perfect unison the policeponies’ heads exploded, splattering Rainbow and me with brains, shards of bone and helmets.

I whipped my head around and spotted silhouettes hovering in the mist far above us, incredibly long guns in their hooves. I could even see the paths cut through the fog by the bullets. The snipers lingered in my sight for mere moments before disappearing into the mist without a trace.

The gunshots might have been silent, but it didn’t prevent the ponies on the streets from noticing four officers of the police become corpses. The avenue was filled with panicked shrieks. Through the clamor I heard voices coming from Rainbow’s helmet.

“The path is clear, sir.”

“Who the fuck let you shoot those treacherous dogs, sergeant?” Rainbow growled in response, either not noticing her conversation being broadcast beyond the confines of her armor or not caring. “It is a declaration of war!”

“Sir, Queen’s orders, sir,” came the calm answer in an odd buzzing voice.

I could easily imagine Rainbow scowling under her helmet, yet she remained silent. She turned to us as if wanting to say something but then looked ahead again and immediately began to canter towards the Sky Palace.

It took us no more than five minutes to reach the grey walls of the Swarm’s dwelling. Rainbow almost galloped towards it, leaving us to catch up with her, despite my objections – the girls were barely able to keep up with such a brisk pace and Wire had begun to limp again. But I could understand that we might be much safer inside now.

In the smooth surface of the Sky Palace fortress an entrance was cut, or rather it had a massive pressure-tight door embedded into it. As soon as we approached the doorway, the massive gate began to open, a slab of steel thick as a pony rising up with a loud groan. It was apparent that the entrance wasn’t used often. The door stopped opening the moment we could enter it without ducking our heads (except for Luna) and we hurried inside.

I didn’t know what to expect, but I was pleasantly surprised. We weren’t met with an army of changelings or Queen Chrysalis herself. In fact, we were the only ones in the tunnel. Yes, it was a tunnel, no different from the first level of the Tunnels in its arched architecture. It lacked the underground’s smell, of course, and save for a little dust it was clean.

The corridor led us to an elevator, since it was a cargo lift we had no trouble fitting in this time. After we exited it, another concrete maintenance passage welcomed us. It was narrow, more like the corridor of a building, with pipes sticking out of the walls. As before, it was deserted making me wonder if it was so any other time or if all the changelings were hidden. Or maybe were waiting in an ambush.

Rainbow was navigating the passages without trouble, guiding us through a series of cramped passes and steep stairs until the grey, unplastered concrete was replaced by slightly less grey plastic tiles (they were white once, but years of accumulating dust had darkened them). Eventually we ended up in front of another elevator, again luckily roomy enough for us to not rub our sides.

The elevator’s cage was round and I noted how half of its walls opposite to the doors were made of glass. I was looking at it in confusion when suddenly a vast space opened up before my eyes – the elevator’s shaft became transparent as well!

I stared in shock at the room big enough to fit a few Canterlot skyscrapers. The Sky Palace was hollow inside! I stepped closer to the lift’s window to take a better look. Though I still couldn’t see what was below, I observed circular floors of concrete, some of them open like small streets, some just walls with windows. The thing that instantly caught my eye was the lighting. I couldn’t see a single lamp and yet the expanse inside the Palace was anything but dark. When I glanced at the very top, I was momentarily blinded by a light as bright as the sun. A moment later realization dawned on me – with the spire of the Palace being above the cloud level, they could use it to light the interior of the Palace, either directly, or more likely using a system of mirrors.

As I lowered my eyes, I saw something that made me freeze. I saw them. Changelings walking around the levels. Talking. Laughing. I even saw one of them waving its hoof to us. We weren’t just inside the Sky Palace, we were inside the Hive, inside their very home. I glanced at Luna and saw her gaze transfixed on the moving figures, but I couldn’t read her expression. I only hoped that she wouldn’t suddenly snap. I couldn’t forget the fact that she had scoured every patch of the Badlands for centuries to find and kill each and every changeling.

The elevator was rising rapidly, and very soon the shaft’s wall turned into concrete, cutting us from the view of the Hive. A minute later the lift stopped, its door silently opening in a corridor with the walls tiled with the same plastic, pristine white this time.

Taking a step from the elevator, I for the first time acutely realized where I was and who I was about to meet. I wondered if these were the last minutes of my unnatural life. I looked at Luna, seeking support, but she was too deep in her own thoughts to notice. Wire, Del and Flower looked a bit shaken and afraid, but not as shocked as I expected them to be. It was understandable, as they knew nothing about the changelings, save for them not being ponies. They were probably more afraid to meet the ruler of the city. Trixie answered at my glance with a worried expression, but I failed to guess what could possibly be on her mind right now.

Rainbow, with the plates on her visor gone to reveal the mask of no emotion that served as her face, left the elevator without hesitation and was now walking through the white corridor towards a set of double doors.

I looked at all of my companions once again, we nodded to each other (Luna included) and this time instead of walking in line we moved forward shoulder to shoulder with only Trixie trailing behind.

Rainbow had already disappeared behind the tall doors. There was nothing special about them, I noted, as we came closer. They were made of the same white plastic, with only filigree handles standing out on the perfect alabaster surface. Though the gate was extraordinarily humble, I knew that behind them was the throne room.

I grabbed the right handle with my magic and saw the other enveloped in a soft blue glow. I met Luna’s eyes but couldn’t read her expression. She silently and curtly nodded to me and I pressed on the door.

For a moment I became blinded by the sunlight pouring through the glass walls of a vast chamber. Then, against the shining, the spots in my eyes began to form into black silhouettes.

A skeletal outline with plates of armor hinged on bones – an equinoid most likely.

Near them a cutout of a large seat. Above the back of it the dark shadow of a jagged spike, a holed twisted horn. On the sides – tattered translucent wings refracting the light.

“Welcome back,” a mirthful and unexpectedly hoarse, yet still horrifyingly recognizable voice came from the throne.

Author's Notes:
Closer and closer to the finish line, though there is still a lot of work left.
Drafts for chapters 17 and 18 are ready, I'm working on chapter 19 right now and really hope to finish all the drafts by the end of September.
Aftersound Project Discord server - it's a little community dedicated to discussion of the story and whatnot. Everyone is welcome to join.
Pony Tales, a quite welcoming place dedicated to disscussing and working on many great stories (now including Aftersound). I think you may also find it interesting.
If you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know.
I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.
Stay awesome.

Chapter 17 – Monster

Aftersound

=================================

Written by:

Flutterfinar & Geka

Preread and edited by:

Cover art done by:

=================================

Monster

====================

After a few moments of deafening silence, the glass of the broad windows, taking up all the walls and spilling forth the dazzling sunlight, began to darken, allowing me to finally see more than just black outlines.

It wasn’t a throne room as I first thought, but rather an observation room by the looks of it. A spacious closed balcony with sparse furniture and decorations, mainly resting places: chairs, cushions and mats – all empty. Well, except for the one on the slightly elevated platform, a large easy chair, rather than throne, occupied by… Queen Chrysalis?

I had trouble recognizing her. If I hadn't heard the vile changeling queen’s unmistakable voice mere moments earlier and if I wasn’t told it was her I could have mistaken her for some other changeling.

Queen Chrysalis’ carapace wasn’t ashen black anymore, it was white – years upon years had bleached it to the color of bone. It was covered by a webwork of tiny metal stitches gleaming with the painfully familiar tint and covering countless hairline fractures, holding her chitinous skin together. Atop her natural exoskeleton a delicate golden filigree framework of artificial joints rested like a full-body set of intricate jewellery, softly glowing crystals embedded into it casting pale rose shadows on her alabaster body. The gossamer wings were beyond simply tattered as they were the last time I saw them – half of them, if not more, was gone, rendering the changeling queen unable to fly, which probably wouldn’t be possible anyway, as old and fragile as she seemed. Even her mane was discolored, not the silver of an elder, just a very faded hue of its original color, a seaweed. It wasn’t hanging loose, but made into an elaborate headdress consisting mainly of braids and spikes around which they were woven. On her muzzle a pair of dainty glasses was perched and the eyes twinkling behind them were the only feature that seemed to have survived the passage of time unchanged. Those slitted venomous green eyes were the same as I remembered them – malicious and predatory. Strangely enough, the queen’s head wore no crown; the only attire Queen Chrysalis had was a cherry-red comforter hanging from her shoulders embroidered with… pink hearts.

My gaze shifted to a figure at her side, an equinoid. It was a mare judging by her slender frame and feminine muzzle, an artificial pony of an unremarkable design with only a few features making her unique. Her mane was a projection, much like that of Trixie, resembling flames in both color and appearance – a red mass with streaks of yellow. To match those bright colors her body was painted in a fiery orange. From her forehead a long horn jutted towards the ceiling. If not for that horn and mane, that equinoid would have looked like she belonged at a construction site with those garish warning colors. However, something about her was making me take a better look. With my eyes widening I realized it wasn’t just an equinoid. In the gaps between her plating I could see energy bubbling, dark shapes with cyan edges pulsing inside her body. Those eldritch shadows were her body. She wasn’t an equinoid at all – I was looking at another Former One.

Quickly glancing at my side I saw that Queen Chrysalis’ entourage had caught not only my attention. Luna was staring at the Former One with a shocked and pained expression, at which she was answered with a stare full of disdain. However, she was promptly diverted from it by Trixie.

“Sunset? Sunset Shimmer? You’ve survived?” the astonished looking shadow asked taking a few steps forward the ‘throne’.

“As did you,” the mare called Sunset Shimmer replied with a cryptic smile.

That short exchange made feel a new wave of distrust towards Trixie. How did she know Queen Chrysalis’ servant… advisor… whoever Sunset Shimmer was? The obvious answer was Sunset being another of the Coven’s witches. The fact that her name sounded familiar was only solidifying that theory.

And what was the matter with Luna? At first I thought it was only Sunset’s appearance that surprised the former Princess, but now I wasn’t sure if it was that simple.

However, these thoughts were for later (if there was a ‘later’, of course) and my attention returned to the white figure reclining at ease on the chair.

The rest of my company, excluding Rainbow, had their eyes glued to the queen of the changelings as well. Only the captain of the Royal Guard simply gazed ahead with an impassive stare. For her it wasn’t a novel sight after all.

We were here. What now? Was Queen Chrysalis going to throw us into a prison or simply kill us where we stood? There was not a single changeling in this room, but I couldn’t be sure. They could be invisible or… could changelings imitate inanimate objects? The room was full of furniture.

Rainbow said Luna and I were assets, but what did that mean? Not long before I was ready to confront Queen Chrysalis about our fates, she cleared her throat – Luna and the Former one were still locked in a staring contest. However, the queen’s lungs seemingly refused to cooperate and what was supposed to be a brief distracting sound turned into a barely restrained coughing fit. Sunset Shimmer levitated a glass of some syrupy liquid from behind the easy chair, but the changeling queen waved it off, continuing to battle with her respiratory system. Finally, she seemed to be able to breathe again and, wasting no time, spoke in only a slightly raspy voice:

“Though I never expected it to happen, it is nice to see your face again, Twilight Sparkle,” Queen Chrysalis addressed me, accompanying her words with a wink. I only frowned in response, refusing to play along with her jabs.

“And I’m glad to finally meet you...“ she paused, smiling widely, flashing two rows of still razor sharp fangs, “...Luna.” I instantly tensted, failing to read the changeling queen’s body language. Was it a threat? Was she taunting Luna the same way she tried to goad me?

Luna herself remained perfectly calm, more interested in the Former One, it appeared – she paid her one more glance, this time bearing an expression I struggled to read. Was it guilt?

“Ah,” Queen Chrysalis chuckled, the sound dying in her throat as it threatened to become another bout of coughing. “I see you recognized your old friend and my loyal advisor, Sunset Shimmer.”

It was clear now that Luna wasn’t just perturbed by Sunset appearance, she knew her personally. That Former One wasn’t just Chrysalis’ advisor, there had to be much more to it.

Sunset nodded her head in a reserved bow at the mention of her occupation and somehow she made it look like she was doing it for everypony but Luna.

“I’m sure you have many questions to ask,” Queen Chrysalis said looking directly at me, then addressing the others as well continued, “and while I’d very much like to entertain you with my company I’m afraid there are pressing issues at hoof calling my attention right now.”

At those words Rainbow took a few steps forward. It must have been about the confrontation with the police we had on our way to the palace, and I had a suspicion that it might have something to do with the reason why the convoy to pick us up from the Badlands was delayed.

“However,” the changeling queen spoke again, “that doesn’t mean you are not welcome in my home. Each and every one of you will be treated as the dear guests that you are, provided with a room… and more.” Flashing a toothy grin that instantly made me tense she practically purred, “Geode Gleam.”

Red Wire was weak on her hooves, but it didn’t stop her from scowling at the mention of her real name, something she kept to herself and those close to her.

Queen Chrysalis lifted her gilded hoof to point at the doors at the opposite half of the room, a set mirroring those we entered. They opened to reveal duo of changelings flanking two ponies. It took me a single glance to guess that they were from the Edge, despite them looking much cleaner than any of the industrial zone’s occupants – there was grim determination written all over their faces, a constant alertness in their postures. They were two mares, of a very similar constitution, though one of them was quite older than the other. Another thing that consolidated my theory of them being the Edge dwellers were the prosthetic hind legs of the younger mare. The older one had various little augmentations all over her body and was blindfolded; judging by the amount of badly healed burns and scars covering all the visible surface of her muzzle, it wasn’t a fresh injury.

I began to wonder who these two poor mares were when I heard Wire let out a strangled cry before instantly bolting to them. It took me a moment to remember Flower’s words and realize that it was Hollow Druse and Roche Dust – Wire’s sister and mother, respectively. It took me another moment to understand the next thing that was going to happen. I took a hasty step forward and prepared myself to drag Wire back with my magic, but suddenly a midnight blue hoof clad in black armor stopped me, clicking softly against my breastplate.

Confused, I whipped my head at Luna. With her eyes fixed on the heartwarming scene of reunion unfolding before us, she leaned closer to me, whispering, “They are real.” She spared me a single glance, looking as confused as I felt. What were we witnessing? Queen Chrysalis went as far as to find Wire’s parents and bring them to her Hive. Was it really a sign of good will or another of her vicious lies?

The changeling queen returned my attention to her as her voice rang over the frantic sobs of the happy filly and her family, “Clandestine Delight.” My pegasus friend instantly froze in place, looking like she was about to faint. “As a Moth you will be treated as the hero to the Swarm you are.” The queen’s words were accompanied with a deep grateful nod, reminding me that Del’s previous job was sustaining the Swarm. I wondered how Delight was feeling about that or if she even realized how important she was to the Crown’s survival.

“Trixie Lulamoon,” Queen Chrysalis proceeded with the next pony, “your services to the Crown and city are not forgotten.” A schematic, slightly tattered and singed at the edges floated out from somewhere behind the great chair, held by the crimson glow of Sunset’s magic, black and cyan bubbles appearing along the edges of her magic aura. It must have been the blueprint of Pepper Mercury’s gun. “We recovered and repaired your mechanical body.”

“Twilight Sparkle,” the queen looked at me, her face mockingly pleasant. Then she measuringly glanced all over my body and with a smirk said, “I believe you would like to visit our mechanics’ workshop.” I scowled, but couldn’t really deny her words. Nor was it an offer I could turn down, I suspected. Then, in a strange voice, she added, “You may find something there you might want to fix as well.”

I blinked in confusion, failing to grasp the meaning of her words. What was that supposed to mean? However, it seemed the changeling queen had nothing more to say to me and directed her attention to the filly by my side.

“Tin Flower,” Queen Chrysalis declared making the filly nervously look at her. The elder changeling let a short laugh, giving me a brief smug sidelong glance. “A friend of my friend is my friend as well.” That was an outright provocation. I glowered at her, but said nothing, stubbornly refusing to play her game. Tin Flower, either unaware of my ‘relationship’ with the murderer of my teacher, or failing to understand what was transpiring before her eyes, was giving me befuddled glances, unsure if she should be happy about being considered a friend of the Crown.

Only one pony in the room remained not graced by the personal attention of changeling queen. A Princess no longer, who for five hundred years had hunted the Swarm with a deadly intent. Luna stood defiantly, almost at the same eye level as Queen Chrysalis, gazing at her with a calm, resigned expression, awaiting her fate. Yet I could see the silhouettes in her sinister mane appear again, empty eyes glowing with white, surfacing like moons in that sea of ink, only to drown moments later, but for the time of their brief appearance their stares were locked on the chitinous occupant of the lavish great chair.

“As for you, Luna…” Queen Chrysalis smiled in an unreadable way, with her jaw full of fangs, it was impossible to say if it was a malicious grin, or a futile attempt to look benevolent. Though I actually doubted it could be the latter, with the queen’s innate false-faced nature, it could be just a mask she wanted to wear. “You may not be a Princess anymore, but I think you may still want to maintain a regal appearance. I also trust you to treat my children fairly.”

“Children bear not the sins of their parents,” Luna levelly retorted without hesitation. The emphasis on the word ‘sins’ was subtle but unmissable, showing that Luna didn’t forget.

Even Queen Chrysalis was surprised with how fast the tenebrous alicorn’s reply came, but if she was intimidated by it, she didn’t show that. “Rationally,” she replied in the same neutral voice, very slightly squinting her eyes behind the glasses. “Our parting will be brief, there is much for us all to discuss,” she added, letting her look linger on Luna, Trixie and me for a few moments.

As soon as she finished speaking, both sets of the doors opened, at least a dozen changelings accompanied by a few equinoids of strange design coming inside in organized lines, separating into pairs approaching each member of our group. One of the equionoids approached me, a mare by her looks.

“Lady Sparkle,” she addressed me in a melodious voice, giving me a sudden and quite low bow. Surprised, I took a step back. “Allow us to guide you to our workshop.”

At first I was taken a bit aback with the unexpected level of respect that equinoid showed me. Of all of us, Luna and I were the only ones approached by equinoids. She looked just as uncomfortable with the way she was treated by the duo of artificial ponies, but as I met her eyes she gave me a reassuring nod, which I returned with a deep frown. It seemed that we both had to play Queen Chrysalis’ game for now. The others were already being led by changelings, save for Flower who was stubbornly refusing to be persuaded by a pair of changelings to leave with them. Taking a wary glance at the equinoid who was still waiting for me to give her a response, I quickly trotted to Flower.

“I don’t want to go with them, Twilight,” she loudly whispered to me as soon as I was within earshot, looking at the two changeling mares with clear concern, if not fear. They were unarmed and met both Flower’s reluctance and my hard stare unflinchingly with the sheepish smiles.

My first thought was to accompany Flower, because unlike Wire she had nopony to do that, nor was she an adult like Delight. I already opened my mouth to placate her and voice my desire to keep her company, but snapped it shut before any words could leave my microphone.

I cast a glance at Queen Chrysalis – she was grinning at me ‘innocently’. I couldn’t be absolutely sure, but I highly doubted she knew about how Flower felt towards me and the conundrum it was creating. If I were to show any affection towards Flower right here and right now, it would show she was important to me. That would make her my weakness, something the vile queen could use as leverage against me. I neither wanted to give her such an opportunity, nor did I want Flower becoming involved in my feud with the Swarm.

So, after hesitating for a few moments I replied, “You need rest and medical attention. I need some help as well.” I really hoped my momentary indecision would go unnoticed and my answer wasn’t too heartless, though it was obvious it wasn’t going to be received well anyway. In all fairness, I couldn’t pass up a chance for the longsuffering filly to finally receive professional help. Not to mention she hadn’t eaten for days.

“I can fix you in no time,” Flower quickly retorted, looking at me with pleading eyes. It was heartbreaking, but I met her look with as much sympathy I could allow without looking concerned for her more than for any other in such a situation.

“I know. But as I said you need to think of yourself now,” I patiently explained. Flower looked like she was on the verge of crying. I wanted to add that I would check on her as soon as possible, but that would be a lie. Trying to understand what was going to happen next between Luna, me and the changeling queen was my top priority right now, sadly.

I watched how the pair of changelings guided Flower away, all that time she was looking at me with wide eyes until she disappeared behind the doors. I turned to spare Queen Chrysalis another look and was met with a strange, almost disappointed expression.

Waiting a little so we wouldn’t meet again in the passage to the elevator and thus give Flower a chance for second thoughts, I returned to the equinoid mare patiently waiting for me.

“Lead the way.”

After a short ride on the elevator the equinoid mare proceeded to guide me through the passages of the Sky Palace. The clean and well-lit corridors tiled with white plastic panels were no longer deserted. Changelings trotted around, stood near the walls chatting or walked into and out of the countless doors leading to rooms full of terminals and other busy-looking chitinous inhabitants of this place. I was barely paid any attention, though I had gotten my share of curious looks. It seemed the changelings weren’t fully aware of who I was, since none of them appeared even remotely worried upon seeing me. Or maybe they were that confident in me being harmless.

The inner life of the Hive didn’t look like I expected – it was more like a normal office building on a gigantic scale, from what I could judge. And though I was interested in what the Swarm was doing, my curiosity was directed to my mechanical guide.

The Archivarius claimed to be ‘the Crown’s property’. Now that I knew the truth behind the Crown, his strange appearance was justified – he looked more like a changeling than a pony. The equinoid walking in front and to the right of me, however, had no resemblance to the race of shapeshifters, yet she was unlike any equinoid I had seen so far.

Her plating was made of neither steel nor plastic – it was porcelain. Bearing a very slight yellowish hue and glistening with varnish, the plates of white ceramic were covering her delicate frame like armor made of polished bone. No. Like she was a doll. In the gaps I could see a gleaming silver skeleton braided with neatly arranged incarnadine tubes and wires, giving the impression of flesh clinging to her metal frame. She had no mane or tail, though there was a silk veil, red with a few purple stripes, hanging from her ears. All those features were giving her a peculiar, not-so-mechanical appearance, even a bit eerie, but there were two things that really stood out for me.

Above her serene face, a creepy one-piece porcelain mask, a horn protruded. It was a part of the mask, actually. Judging by the pale rose pulse of magic coming through the indentations of its spirals, it wasn’t just an aesthetic feature, but a functional part of her body. It was the second time I had seen an equinoid capable of casting magic (the Former Ones not counted) and it raised the question of how it was possible. In theory, equinoids shouldn’t be able to do that, since they had no connection to Harmony, no cutie marks. Speaking of which, on both flanks of the mare the number seven was painted black in a gothic font.

Frowning in confusion and deep thought, I kept stealing glances at her. Soon enough she, noticing that, commented, “Is something wrong, Lady Sparkle?”

“No,” I snapped and immediately felt a pang of guilt. She wasn’t a changeling, most likely she was just a slave of the Swarm, their property – a fate no different from that of many other equinoids in Canterlot. Her downright weird look shouldn’t be a reason for me to treat her without respect either.

“I’m sorry,” I said. There was no reaction from the equinoid mare (which was no surprise considering that her face couldn’t move), save for a glance she cast at me. I took it as a sign that my outburst was forgiven. There were many questions I wanted to ask her, but there was only one I should start with: “What is your name?”

“Seven,” she readily replied, turning to me and slowing down a bit so we were walking side by side. Though her face could show no emotion, her voice was very rich with subtle intonations. It was hard to explain, but it sounded like she was shyly smiling.

However, her strange voice wasn’t what made me stumble, but the fact that she recited the number from her flanks. It felt wrong for an intelligent being to have a number for a name, but I decided to refrain from commenting on that. Suddenly it came to me that I didn’t know how to make small talk with Seven without just starting to outright interrogate her.

Fortunately, Seven rescued me from the potential reign of awkward silence, “You seem to pay close attention to our appearance? Is there something bothering you, our Lady?”

“Yes,” I answered without a thought, and stumbled again, embarrassed by my own reply. I instantly tried to correct myself, “I mean, no!”

I let out a deep sigh. The cat was out of the bag, the best I could do was try to divert the topic to save at least some of my dignity. “Why do you refer to yourself in the plural? And why do you call me Lady?” Those weren’t the questions that bothered me the most, but it was better than outright asking Seven why she looked like she came out of a horror story.

“Because that was your gift to us, Lady Sparkle,” Seven said with a reverent bow making me stop and gawk at her. Fortunately, we had just made a turn into what seemed to be some sort of a service passage.

“Wait, what? What do you mean?” I asked, looking at her in confusion. I had no memory of having anything to do with that. Unless… And then I remembered something Trixie told me when I met her...

“Lady Moondancer created our bodies, but the Prime Code was written by you alone.”

Of course. My ‘other’ life lasted for quite a while after the accident. Trixie mentioned both my invention of that mysterious Prime Code and the community of runaway equinoids, already existing by the time she returned back to Canterlot, presumably not that long after my and Moondancer’s demises. So artificial life and intelligence were created within my lifespan... and presumably by me.

But there was something not quite making sense, the part about the Prime Code. Trixie mentioned that Moondancer hadn’t shared it, and if her capture took place after the failed Transference attempt, then ‘I’ took it to the grave.

“When did this happen?”

“It was part of a deal between the queen and Moondancer shorty after you…” Seven stuttered, ”your disappearance, our Lady.”

Seven’s answer made me blink, befuddled. Her words weren’t making sense again, or following Starswirl’s wisdom, I had the wrong information to begin with (which could be the case with Trixie).

“I thought Moonie refused to give up the Prime Code!” I exclaimed in frustration. Mostly because I had many new questions now regarding the time Moondancer spent as the Swarm’s prisoner and what deal she made with the queen. The one she made for me, to make sure I didn’t go down in history as a failure.

“And she never did,” Seven perked up. Or at least I imagined she did, it was impossible to tell. “It is all here,” -she pointed at her head with her hoof, porcelain softly clicking against porcelain- “neither changelings nor Sunset Shimmer have the magic to decipher it.” Those words sounded like they were supposed to be accompanied by a triumphant smile, but unsurprisingly the ceramic mask didn’t move.

With that, Seven continued to trot onward, leaving me to follow her as she navigated the tidy, yet sparsely lit corridors. It was not that I had nothing to say to her, quite the opposite, nor had Seven seemed to have enough of my conversation. I just needed to digest that information.

From what I could understand of Seven’s words and my own observations, Sunset Shimmer was what I would call a dark mage, probably very similar to Trixie. But more importantly, with changelings innately being ‘dark mages’ (I really needed to reevaluate my approach to that matter), none of the Hive’s inhabitants were capable of interacting with equinoids’ AI enchantments. But that was contradicted by the existence of Archivarius, unless he was one of Moondancer’s equinoids, just with another body model. There was also a question, and quite an interesting one at that: what was different about the Prime Code?

Answers to those questions would surely deepen my understanding of the modern world and those areas of magic which I tended to avoid before, but had a chance to study now, with how prominent what I called ‘dark magic’ had become in my absence. The important questions were about the past, what had happened and what it meant for my current situation.

“What happened to Moondancer?” I quietly asked after we walked for a while. We were still in the technical passages, going deeper into the Hive from what I could tell.

“I’m sorry, our Lady, she passed away many years ago,” Seven replied in a sorrowful voice, hanging her head.

That moment we emerged into a wide walkway opening into the empty space within the Hive. It was an entire level designed as a terrace of sorts, even with some potted vegetation, which was the first time I had seen any decent flora since I was ‘resurrected’. There were a few changelings walking around, but not too many for such a gargantuan structure. From what I had seen so far, it didn’t appear that their population was large, at least not big enough to justify how enormous the Sky Palace was.

Coming closer to the railing, I cast a glance down, taking in rows of the other terrace levels and whatnot. Finally, my gaze stopped at the bottom of the well and I was met with the lovely sight of a beautiful garden sprawled under the reflected sunlight. It looked a little strange, however, with the vegetation being alien and exotic, not like something that once grew around Canterlot or within the Royal Palace grounds. Since it was quite deep, the amount of light reaching the outlandish plants was limited, which was only adding to an eerie mystic appearance, making me think of the Everfree Forest. There was one thing spoiling that garden’s beauty for me. I didn’t notice it at first, so seamlessly it was blending into it, but in the middle of the thicket, an ugly spire of unmistakable twisted architecture was rising, likely an entrance to the underground parts of the Hive.

Seven was patiently and silently waiting by my side as I studied the interior of the Sky Palace. Eventually my thoughts returned to Moondancer, myself and those peculiar equinoids. I didn’t expect Moonie to still be alive by this time. I didn’t want her to be. Spending centuries as a prisoner and slave of the Hive? That made me think of those who, due to their nature, weren’t able to avoid that fate. And I wasn’t talking about Rainbow Dash.

“It is so sad that our legacy has to serve as the queen’s toys,” I lamented with a deep sigh, turning to Seven. She was a marvel of magic and technology, not manufactured, but crafted, with heart put into it. I knew that Moonie couldn’t do it any other way, even if she knew she was doing it for the enemy. Seven might well have been one of the very first of her kind. Strange as it may sound, the first children of the new life Moonie and I brought into this world. Only to become slaves, the fate that would be shared by any other equinoid.

“Toys, our Lady?” Seven gasped, her voice incredulous. “We are treated by the Swarm with as much respect as any changeling. The magic bestowed by Lady Moondancer allows us to do things no one else in the Sky Palace can.”

If Seven was offended by my suggestion she didn’t show it (not that she was very capable of such a feat). And needless to say, she took me by surprise – I didn’t know what to think. On one hoof it was pleasant news to know that at least somewhere equinoids weren’t treated as property, on the other it felt wrong and outright painful to realize that the changelings of all creatures, not ponies, were doing that.

After the initial shock passed, I realized that I had something to think about, and it had nothing to do with the way equinoids were treated. “Bestowed? You don’t have your own magic?” That would answer some of my previous questions and create more. (Who gifted the magic ability to Alnico Sermon, then?)

“Most equinoids don’t,” Seven explained with mixed sympathy and pride in her voice, “they can only release stored energy. But the last of Lady Moondancer’s inventions was a spell she created with the help of Sunset Shimmer, allowing us to use the arcane powers of this world the same way unicorns do.”

“Are you talking about dark magic?” the question left my proverbial tongue before I could even think. It wasn’t quite what I wanted to say, but the meaning was still there. The only way to grant an equinoid the magical ability of a unicorn was by either doing what Flower did (which wasn’t the case here, it seemed) or to do what Trixie suggested in the recording. I had trouble imagining Moonie agreeing to the use of unconventional magic, though on second thought, I could understand. She wasn’t me, and she did agree with Trixie on resorting to her ways in the case of the Transference failing.

“Dark magic?” Seven asked, tilting her head. I imagine that would have been accompanied by a blink, but those crystal doll eyes just kept being focused at me with their dead stare. In a perplexed innocent tone she added, “What does that mean, Lady Sparkle?”

Unlike Seven, I did blink, the metal shutters scraping against my skull, reminding me that I needed to visit a mechanic.

For her, an equinoid who was created by a unicorn and then spent her life in a place full of those who weren’t bound to Harmony, the definition of magic was different: all kinds of arcane practices were the same for her. It was a concept both fascinating and frightening. Seven wasn’t bound by the rules of Harmony or morality. For her, it wasn’t the source of power that defined it, but the goal.

“Nevermind…” I muttered, leaving that thought for later.

As I took a few steps away from the railing of the terrace, Seven took it as a sign to continue leading me to the mechanic's workshop.

After using a couple of elevators and traversing a few more dark technical passages and more brightly lit corridors full of cheerful changelings we came to some sort of technical wing of the Sky Palace, with walls lacking the white panels, covered in uneven dingy plaster instead. Changelings clad in working suits, carrying tools and boxes hurried around. A lot of passes opened into large rooms taken up by industrial looking machines, filled with sparks, smoke and sounds of intense work. The smell of hot metal and oil, and acrid chemical aromas wafted from the tight halls between the workrooms.

A stray thought visited my mind as we passed an intersection with a wide tunnel presumably leading to a hangar. I stood on the terrace for quite some time, but while I had seen dozens of changelings, I had yet to witness another equinoid. The same applied to this section of the palace, a place where I expected to see equinoids more than anywhere else.

“How many of you did Moondancer create?” I inquired, hoping that Seven would hear me over the din.

I doubted it was many. Creepy or not (really, what was Moonie thinking?) those models must have taken a lot of effort to create unless Seven’s current appearance was a cruel joke of the Swarm (but if she was truly treated with respect, it meant that changelings had a very odd sense of beauty, though with their queen looking like a piece of cheese…). It was reasonable to suggest at least seven of them being created. I saw at least two others approaching Luna.

“Twelve, our Lady. All interlinked.”

“Interlinked?” I repeated, confused about what it could mean. But before she answered I was starting to guess.

We. Our. Us.

“As long as we are near each other we can share what we see, hear or think.”

Singular cognitum. They had the Unity the equinoids of the Church talked about. At least it worked as it was foretold, even if the Machine Goddess was still absent from it. The legend was more true than it should have been. For a moment I felt a rush of panic: what if Trixie was wrong again and there was a goddess trapped inside the palace? But I probably would have known it by now, unless...

“Can the others hear me now?” I asked trying to keep my voice calm. My eyes were glued to the floor as my mind raced. All Trixie said was pointing to me being the best candidate for that title, but Trixie said many things, not all of them as truthful as they should be.

“Of course, our Lady,” Seven replied to me with mirth in her voice as we were making another turn. Suddenly her voice was quite a bit further away and sounding a little different. “We waited for this moment to come for so many years.”

I raised my eyes and found myself in the middle of a spacious workshop, full of tools of all kinds, innumerable spare parts hanging from the walls.

Surrounding me were eleven equinoids, all looking roughly the same with their porcelain faces and intent unmoving stares directed at me. Seven was taking place amongst them. One of them, a stallion model standing the closest to me proclaimed loudly:

“We have waited for you, our Lady!”

At those words, all twelve equinoids bowed to the floor, touching it with their muzzles producing a one singular perfect click.

My jaw worked with soft whirrs, my microphone dead in my throat as I didn’t know how to respond to that. It felt like I knew exactly what I was seeing and still had no idea. It felt right, and so very wrong at the same time. I had so many questions and so many answers.

Finally, I was able to find my voice.

“How did you know I would return?” I stammered watching as twelve heads rose up in unison to look at me. Suddenly I could see that they had an expression on their faces, a serene reverence forever etched into their features. Each and every porcelain mask was a bit different but bore an unmistakable resemblance to the statue in the Church of the Machine Goddess.

“The equinoids in the Tunnels may be wrong…” the stallion who made the proclamation spoke again, taking a step towards me.

“...In many things…” smoothly, without a pause a mare continued in his stead, voicing the words from a single mind.

“...But they got something right…” another mare took a step forward, her voice with a slight crackle and the ceramic mask bearing a long crack stitched with fine silvery brackets.

“...Something which Lady Moondancer promised us…” carried on a stallion with a number ‘four’ on his flanks.

“...With her last breath…” Seven came closer to me as well, her voice full of sorrow.

“...Our Mother is going to return,” they all finished in perfect unison.

It was like my encounter with Braze in the Tunnels all over again, except… it wasn’t. Superficially, the situation was the same: an equinoid (or a group of them in this case) called me a progenitor, but it was different in every other aspect.

This time, I had no chance to avoid making a decision. These equinoids knew as much as I did, even more. There was no way I could talk my way out of it. I doubted I could just walk away from them if I wanted – I had nowhere to go. It would be like trying to run from myself anyway, and that was something I had learned the hard way not to do.

Probably the only thing similar to how it was with Braze was the fact that I still wasn’t sure what to think about all that. Especially, how I was supposed to react to being called a mother. It was returning me to the very thoughts I had at the final steps of my journey to the Badlands. I had never thought of having a family, I wasn’t sure I was ready or capable.

Unlike then, this wasn’t a choice of if I wanted to adopt a filly or not.

In fact, there was a time I was called a mother, because that’s what I was to Spike. I was even involved in his birth (his hatching, that is) in a similar, indirect way. I raised him as my own (though not without the help of Princess Celestia and my own mother), despite the obvious differences between us. However, Spike becoming my son wasn't actually a choice either, not that I ever regretted it. The fact that my son was now trapped in both the Tunnels and his madness wasn’t helping my confidence.

He was still there… I hadn’t forgotten about him, it wasn’t a promise I was going to break. There was even more: my fate was yet to be decided, but for now I had no pressing matters or any plans, the current situation excluded. It was my chance to finally keep my promise, and though I hated to admit that, Queen Chrysalis could be of help. But it would have to wait for a little longer…

My thoughts returned to the dilemma at hoof, a very intricate one at that, since it was very different from my foster care for Spike or the possible parenthood I could offer Tin Flower. There was much more to it.

The runaway equinoids, or any others for that matter, had some relation to me. I now knew that I was guilty of creating the core basics of artificial intelligence, the crucial difference between a machine and a living being. Over the many years, the initial enchantments could have been modified and changed, not to mention that apparently the AI of any Canterlot equinoid was different from that of these twelve. The difference between the Prime Code and the regular AI enchantments was something I had yet to learn, but it wasn’t what mattered right now.

In the case of these ‘first-born’ my direct involvement in their creation was undeniable. Moonie was never as proficient with developing enchantments as I was, she was all about their practical application. The enchantments granting the sentience of those before me had to be exact copies of my own work. And though they might have been used without my discretion, I was responsible for their existence, for I allowed it.

If I were to accept these equinoids as my responsibility, as my children, what was stopping me from doing the same with the others suffering in Canterlot? Would it be my first decision as a mother to favor some of my kids over the others?

It wasn’t about motherhood, however. Braze, whose body was manufactured many years after ‘my’ death and whose enchantments were derived from my work, maybe even substantially changed, was as much my creation as muffins baked by Pinkie were the creations of the pony who came up with the recipe in the first place. Except equinoids weren’t muffins. They weren’t even advanced dolls or machines. They were sentient beings, and whoever allowed that sentience to be reproduced was responsible for their existence and exploitation. If I had destroyed the enchantments, for them to never be known, then the equinoids as they were now would have never existed, been enslaved or suffered. But I didn’t. I brought artificial life into this world.

So when these twelve called me their mother, it wasn’t a question of accepting my relation to them or not. I was a parent of every equinoid, though not in the traditional way. The question was if I was going to admit my responsibility for creating the artificial life and act accordingly.

Twelve pairs of lifeless eyes continued to stare at me, and in sudden clarity I understood why Moonie chose them to look so. I remembered her having a doll, whose name I couldn’t recall, an antique peculiar thing of a very old design once belonging to her grandmother and then passed down the generations until it was my childhood friend’s turn. It looked pretty much the same, with its porcelain yellowed by age and polished by countless hugs of little hooves, with its glossy eyes and perpetual expression of love etched into the amiable muzzle. Taken out of context and animated, it was bound to share that eerie appearance with the living dolls gazing at me. Yet, it was the most prized thing in Moonie’s possession, a dear friend equal to me, especially when I decided to choose books instead of a tea party. For Moonie, it had all the emotions she wished it to have, because she loved her doll. That is why these twelve didn’t look much different from a doll – they didn’t need to. Moondancer loved them, because for her they were her children as well.

Now it was my time to love them and care for them as only a mother could.

It was still impossible to read the expressions on their faces, but somehow they became alight with joy the moment I took the first step towards them. I was right about Moondancer and her doll.

The next thing that happened was disappointing, however. In one sudden motion the twelve of my first-born deeply bowed. I rushed to the closest one, a stallion with the number three on his flank; putting a hoof under his chin, I lifted his head.

“There is no need to do that…”

“But how else can we show you our love, Mother?” Four quietly asked in a lost but respectful voice.

I opened my mouth to answer, but realized that there was none. The answer I sought wasn’t in a verbal form. Hooking my hooves underneath the surprisingly light body of Four, I gingerly enveloped my metal limbs around him.

I shared an embrace with each of my newfound children, a gesture I found odd and yet comforting, a peculiarity of that sensation caused by acutely realizing that they were my own, a family, but in a way different from what I was used to. Their ceramic bodies felt so fragile in my steel hooves. They returned those hugs readily, clutching me in their hooves. Some whispered gratitude in my ear, thanking me for all things: my return, my love, their life. Some sobbed happily, though no tears wetted the floor.

After that precious moment came to an end, they wasted no time and guided me to one of the workbenches, where I lay down, surrendering to their ministrations.

The moment I was lowered on the metal table, a dam inside me broke and I unleashed a ceaseless and unrelenting barrage of questions, though my children seemed glad just to talk with me, even if it was only sharing some trivial information.

The Twelve, as they called themselves, once had real names, but Moondancer removed that memory from their minds, for she believed Queen Chrysalis wasn’t worthy to share such a close bond with them. It was a sentiment I wholeheartedly agreed on, but all things considered it shouldn’t be an issue, now that I had reunited with them. However, the Twelve politely declined my offer to come up with new and actual names. Over so many years they had gotten used to the numbers.

Another thing that I promptly learned was that the Swarm had very little interest in implementing particular technologies, namely mechanical limbs and such. The only two cases when the changelings needed to do something with mechanics were maintenance of the Royal Guard’s armored suits (though there was a team of changelings who could do most of the work themselves) and the recent condition of the queen. Because of that, the Twelve had to care for each other, and thus had amassed quite a collection of spare parts along with many years of experience.

With deft movements, Moondancer’s and my children (weird as it may sound) began to dance around me joined by a vast variety of tools aimed to disassemble my wrecked body. The bent and torn plates, barely having any lavender paint remaining on them, were the first to be levitated from my sight. They were followed by the grime-coated skeletal limbs, saved by those plates from direct damage, but driven almost to their breaking point by the onslaught of sand sneaked inside them. But the Twelve didn’t stop there, more and more parts of my body continued to be removed from it, all worn down and looking miserable. I was sure it was Moondancer who had created my body initially, just as I was sure that many parts of it were replaced without considering the possibility of it serving any other role than a librarian’s assistant. Thus, it had held poorly against the trials of my adventures.

Though it was impossible for me to see myself, I could imagine how I must have looked, now that almost everything was stripped from my core: nothing more than enchanted warm crystals wired together and pulsing with my consciousness as cooling systems washed the heat away from them. Even my eyes were gently plucked out in the end, leaving me only able to hear and talk.

I talked a lot. As in the case of Seven, the rest of the Twelve compensated for their lack of expressions with the richness of their voices, each unique and different. Eleven, a mercurial mare, with her high and slightly raspy voice was the most talkative of them, reminding me of Pinkie with how enthusiastically and fast she talked.

“Oh, the difference?” Eleven echoed my last question. “It is simple.”

All my inquiries led to the question which had been bothering me since I first heard the term: the Prime Code. Now that I was talking with those who had it as their ‘soul’ I could finally learn all the answers.

Eleven’s voice faded away for a short time as she walked away from me to get something, but then she returned. “The Prime Code connects every equinoid into a network answering to the Nexus, which allows an exchange of information within the network.” I refrained from any comments, trying to understand what it meant. Meanwhile Eleven continued to list the differences. “There are also some minor features like increased efficiency, the ability to combine units within the network for increased productivity…”

“What is your Nexus?” I asked, finally able to comprehend how the Unity worked. “Or who?”

“Oh…” Eleven hesitated.

“We don’t have one,” the reply came in another voice, a low hollow tone belonging to the stallion with the number three emblazoned on his rump. After a pause filled with the hum of some device, he added, “Lady Moondancer rerouted the spell so each of us is both Nexus and unit.”

That explained why they exchanged the information so freely. The original Unity wasn’t supposed to be one singular cognitum, but rather numerous consciousnesses answering to one: the Nexus… the Machine Goddess.

“Why don’t the other equinoids have it?” I could come up with quite a few reasons why I wouldn’t want the equinoids to have it now, but I was interested in ‘my’ and Moondancer’s old decision.

“It wasn’t finished, our Mother,” Five chirped from somewhere behind me, her voice soft and joyous, ”the Nexus-unit link requires too much power to handle large networks.”

Interesting. I had another reason completely why I wouldn’t have allowed the Prime Code to be used. Even if it didn’t have that limitation I couldn’t imagine a single pony or equinoid in Canterlot I would have trusted with total thought control over a group of individuals.

“So, a simplified version of the Prime Code was created by you, our Mother, and given to the public,” Eight added, not aware of my ruminations. However, that comment brought my thoughts to a screeching halt.

“Why would somepony give…” I indignantly began, but the words died in my microphone as a wave of embarrassment and regret washed over me, becoming stronger with every passing second.

Why would I act so irresponsibly and give the key to recreating sentience to those who I knew would misuse it?

Because back then I didn’t care. I only cared about those who were dead, I cared about myself. Most probably I did that so the investors would leave me alone, or something like that.

I wanted to curl into a tiny ball and vanish from existence. The weight of what I had done was becoming heavier and heavier, long past the point of it being bearable. That was what Queen Chrysalis talked about. I wasn’t just responsible for creating life, I was guilty of betraying it. The enchantments weren’t stolen from me, nor was I forced to give them up. Every equinoid in Canterlot not only existed because of me, they suffered their miserable fate because I didn’t care enough.

I couldn’t tell if the uneasy silence following my words was caused by the Twelve waiting for me to finish my question or being disappointed in how I had treated their brethren. Nor could I tell how long it lasted; the crushing guilt combined with the lack of vision made time stretch into infinity.

In fact, I was seeing things, and since I had no eyelids I couldn’t avoid the torture I deserved.

Faces. Adamant Smash, Braze, Brass Litany. Even Alnico Sermon. Countless equinoids whose names I didn’t know. Names written on pieces of paper bound to dozens of the crystal shards in the shrine, the broken ‘soul vessels’.

The turmoil inside me reached its apotheosis. At that very moment a sudden clarity came to me. I was wrong.

It wasn’t about taking responsibility for my actions, but answering for my inaction.

It wasn’t about giving the equinoids the love they deserved, but making myself worthy of their love.

It wasn’t about giving birth to children, but caring for them.

I heard the sounds of movement very close to me and in a flash of blinding light my eyesight returned.

The porcelain mask of one of my daughters was filling my entire view, her horn aglow, holding a probe and a screwdriver, her eyes concentrated on my own, but not looking into them. The picture blinked and twisted a few times, its colors momentarily becoming greyscale and then oversaturated. Finally, she took a step back (it was Nine as I could see now) and nodded to herself in satisfaction.

The Twelve milled around me with a whole fleet of spare parts levitated above them. One by one, metal limbs, organs and plates were placed on my body, or rather made my body, because, judging by the amount of parts and what they were, I was being reassembled from scratch. To my disappointment, the same porcelain mask was placed on my skull. Unlike the Twelve, I didn’t have centuries of experience to learn to express all my emotions using only my voice. Since the plates used to protect my wire-covered skeletal frame were the same as the Twelve wore, it seemed that they just weren’t prepared to create a body for any other equinoid but them, not even their mother.

Held under my hooves, I climbed off the table and took a few shaky steps forward. My new body felt amazing, needless to say. I didn’t want to belittle Flower’s work, but this body was just as different from my previous body as that one was different from my very first. The only downside was my new appearance. Not that I thought of the Twelve as ugly, but I missed my lavender coat… and having a face.

As I stopped twirling around, Seven approached me and I felt her magic reach for something inside my body. To my surprise, a moment later it lit up with magical projections! The bone-white plates were shimmering with purple neon, matching the color of my… eh, organic body’s coat. Twelve appeared from my side, a mirror in his magic hold levitated to my face. Face! It had the same arcane illusion, but this one was moving, mimicking a pony muzzle – my muzzle. I tried to frown and smile, testing the projection. It reflected my intended expressions nearly perfectly, with only a slight lag. However, there was a downside, and a considerable one – I could feel only my porcelain ‘face’, not the projections. Without a mirror I had to just have faith in them, and myself, to be able to reflect the emotions I wanted to show.

As a bonus I also had a mane projected similar to Trixie’s. I turned back and was met with another magic image, that of my tail.

And also with the sight of Sunset Shimmer standing in the doorway, leaning on the wall.

“Enjoying your stay?” the mysterious Former One joked, her tone light and forthcoming.

My scowl was my reply. Her being a pony who betrayed Equestria added another level to her vileness as part of the Crown. And there was also the possibility that she was a Coven witch on top of that. Unless she had very good reasons, I had nothing for her but my sincere and utmost loathing.

Sunset was unfazed by my reaction, however. She only smiled, as if she expected it and was glad her guess was right. “No need to answer that question,” she dismissed in a just as amiable tone, then, pushing herself from the doorway to stand upright, asked, “Mind if I steal you for a while?”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” I said between my proverbial teeth. What did this traitor want with me?

“You are not a prisoner,” Sunset shrugged, “but I think you would like to see what I want to show you.”

Spending more time with my children was what I wanted, learning more about Moonie and their nature. However, Sunset Shimmer succeeded in sowing a seed of gnawing curiosity in my mind. And though I despised her, that could be a chance to learn more about the Crown and the overall situation, including how a Former One, possibly a former Coven member, ended up in the Swarm’s service.

As I took a few steps forward I felt a rush of air accompanied with the resonant staccato of ceramic against metal. One and Two were by my side like bodyguards.

“There is no need for that,” Sunset commented with a chuckle, “I will return her safe and sound.”

However, One and Two didn’t move or even react to her words. For a moment I considered not heeding Sunset and letting them go with me, but then decided against that. She might be an enemy, but she was acting friendly and it would be unwise to compromise the situation just out of spite, considering that I was in the heart of the Hive. Speaking of which, if something were to happen, it would be better if I was the only victim. So I turned to my entourage and shook my head. They hesitantly backed up, and though their expressions couldn’t betray their emotions, I could feel they were both disappointed and concerned.

The moment my children left my side, Sunset turned and walked out of the workshop, prompting me to follow her.

Looking at a mare from behind wasn’t the kind of view I would prefer, but it was all I had in the case of Sunset Shimmer. It didn’t tell me much about her (which was expected). The only thing to note was that her ‘body’ made of magic looked different from Trixie’s, though I couldn’t get the finer details through the gaps in the plating. Also, it seemed like there wasn’t anything but body inside, so it was more like a set of armor rather than Trixie’s ‘possession’ of a modified equinoid frame.

The halls of the Hive changed into some unremarkable desolate passages which looked like they hadn’t been visited in ages, judging by the layer of dust (which was strange because the rest of the Sky Palace looked rather clean, even the tunnels we used to enter). So, tired of observing grey walls and armoured flanks, I decided to address the owner of the latter as well as the elephant in the room.

“Sunset Shimmer,” I called, “you were one of the Coven’s witches, weren’t you?”

She didn’t hesitate with the answer, “And you were Princess Celestia’s pupil.”

My nose wrinkled. It wasn’t a topic I expected to be mentioned, nor did I enjoy the fact that this mare knew that much about me. On second (and unpleasant) thought, she could know everything about me and more.

“What has that got to do with anything?” I snapped back.

There was a pregnant pause lasting for a few long moments. Finally in a quiet, yet casual voice Sunset replied, “Because I, too, was her pupil once.”

I stumbled, caught by surprise, then quickly composed myself. Yes, sure, and I was the Princess of Friendship. It would have been surprising if the advisor of the Queen of Lies was honest.

“You’re lying,” I retorted with unhidden disdain in my voice.

“Why would I?” Sunset chuckled, again, unperturbed by my attitude towards her.

“Because you are serving Queen Chrysalis, and before you have served King Sombra,” I deadpanned. I wasn’t totally sure about the last part, but the more I thought about it, the more it seemed logical. Everything was pointing at that, after all. “And Princess Celestia never mentioned you,” I added the final argument.

“I wouldn’t expect her to, not after what I did,” Sunset answered me with a deep sigh after another pause. “And I never actually served King Sombra.”

I felt myself bristle inside. What did she do? And it seemed my guess was wrong, which was quite confusing. But that didn’t matter.

“So you don’t deny your allegiance to the changeling queen?” I returned to my initial accusation, the part which was more important right now, because, unfortunately, Queen Chrysalis was still alive.

“No,” Sunset shrugged like I was making a big deal out of some nonsense, “she is my friend.”

I wanted to wrap her in my magic and slam her against those drab walls until she was nothing but a metal pancake. The nonchalant way she talked about her treachery was infuriating. No wonder I had never heard Princess Celestia mention her. Who would want to talk about a mare so disgusting?

The way Sunset acted, it was strange she didn’t pat Queen Chrysalis on her back when the insect hag failed to die of coughing in front of us. They were the best of buddies after all, deserving each other. That scene reminded me of another piece of the puzzle I had to address, which would hopefully link it all together.

“And what is up with you and Princ… Luna?” I asked, barely managing to keep vitriol from my voice. Well, keeping it to an acceptable level.

“She is the reason why I’m here.”

Sunset’s answer made me furrow my brows, not only because it didn’t explain anything while making my suspicion true, it was also spoken in a very dark tone, contrasting with the way she talked before.

I waited for further explanation, but instead Sunset stopped.

We came to a widening in the corridor ending with a heavy set of double metal doors. Faded from time and slight corrosion, there were runes inscribed on their dusty surface, glimmering with the trademark iridescence of arcanium.

Sunset approached a small display on the wall and pressed a button, making it come to life and light her face with a green glow. She flicked away dust and printed something on its keyboard, a password, presumably, and with a low groan the doors began to open. Well, one of them at least. Sunset gave the other a push with her magic, but it didn’t budge. Shaking her head, she disappeared beyond the doorway. I trotted after her.

The passage opening from the armored entrance was much wider than any we had traversed before and starkly reminded me of the Tunnels. It was missing their smell (which I wasn’t missing, though) and their colourful inhabitants, but otherwise it was the same arched passes with a grated floor accumulating dirt under the latticework and dying lamps barely lighting the way.

Now that the pass allowed me to do so, I was trotting by Sunset’s side, watching her face contorting in different expressions as she was looking for the right words. Finally, she spoke:

“I was young and stupid, but more than that I was ambitious.” Paying Sunset a glance I noted how profoundly disappointed in herself she looked. She paused, her jaw working silently allowing me to see two rows of ethereal fangs accompanied by a long forked tongue. “Long story short, those qualities led me to have a fight with our former teacher. I grabbed a few magic artifacts and hopped into the magic mirror leading to another reality.” This time it was me looking profoundly disappointed in her, though I couldn't deny that she got me curious. “A few years later, Luna came to me looking for those artifacts because she needed them, and as you can guess, she didn’t bring... the best of news.”

It wasn’t hard to guess what that news was. Luna must have been looking for something to help her to deal with changelings, though I had never heard of any kind of mirror portals being around the castle, which made me doubt the whole story. But I decided not to rush with any accusations before I heard more. After all, being excessively forward wasn’t one of Princess Celestia’s defining features – there were many things she didn’t mention to me until she thought I was ready.

“Princess Celestia and I had a fight… But it never stopped me from loving her,” Sunset continued in a remorseful tone. “There was just no other way, I think you can understand that like nopony else.”

There was a very fleeting moment of sympathy accompanied by a wrenching feeling, but both were instantly snuffed out by my bitterness. Too bad Sunset spat on Princess Celestia’s memory and joined her murderer.

“So I volunteered to go back to Equestria.” Sunset’s expression grew hard and glaring forward at nopony in particular, she snarled, “But Luna, damn her, wasn’t going to let it be so easy for me – I was nothing more than a thief and a failure in her eyes.”

And Luna was right, wasn’t she? Again, I refrained from saying any of my comments out loud, at least until the story was over.

“We struck a deal. I would join the Coven as a spy, and after the war, all my crimes would be forgiven. Thanks to Princess Celestia, my magic prowess was good enough to be worthy of Sombra’s attention, but I was a horse with no name.”

I caught my hoof and almost ended up planting my face into the floor (which would have ended disastrously for my porcelain mask). It never occured to me that Equestria could have spies in King Sombra’s army, it just wasn’t how our military operated. But Luna wasn’t part of our military; she had her own tactics which suited her much better. If Sunset was telling the truth, that is.

My mind began to race, invisible gears groaning as layers of memory were unearthed. I wasn’t as familiar with the Coven as those who had to deal with them directly, but I was still aware of some of the witches – I had to create defenses against their magic. Sunset Shimmer… she was never mentioned as an Equestrian ally in the reports, I would have remembered, but her name was there, in the most earlier ones, but then… it changed…

Stopping dead in my tracks I stared at Sunset Shimmer with a mix of extreme aversion, horror and shock. She just looked at me back tiredly.

“I remember you now,” I hissed when I finally found ability to speak instead of growling. “You were the ‘Demon Mare’!” I yelled, barely able to hold the wrath growing inside of me. “The worst and most deadly witch, who killed thousands!” I roared at her in fury.

A twisted abomination of flesh and magic, a pony transformed into a monster with a hideous appearance reflecting the depth of her black heart’s vileness. Her dark flames incinerated whole battalions alive, leaving only scorched bones on the ground, turning entire flocks of pegasi into clouds of ash on wind. Nothing but char was left in her wake. She was one of the reasons why the cybersuits had to come into existence.

Sunset was looking at her hooves with shame, not like a filly who was scolded for a broken vase, but as somepony who had a full understanding of her actions and deeply regretted them. It wasn’t helping my anger, only preventing me from attacking her. If she didn’t have the decency to look guilty, I would have abandoned any reason.

“Yes, things didn’t go as well as they were supposed to…” Sunset muttered when I stopped looking I like was going to pounce on her and was just sitting, glaring at her, silently seething. Then her voice grew steady and gained an acidic quality, “Luna dropped all contact with me in less than a year after I became part of the Coven. The transformation magic I was practicing had an effect on my mind that wasn’t helping my growing desperation.” She looked at me with a wry mirthless smile, “Did I mention that I was young and stupid?”

I wasn’t surprised to hear Luna going silent. She did that to all of us back then. At least that could be true. But Sunset was making it sound like all those deaths were justified by that and the madness or whatever it was. If she had been doing it all just to pretend she was a faithful servant of the Ebony Warlock, then she clearly overdid it to the point where it couldn’t be forgiven.

It explained, though, why Luna was so shocked. She suddenly realized that she abandoned her agent amidst the enemy forces. That left only one question unanswered, presumably the last part of the story.

“But how did you end up as Queen Chrysalis’ friend?” I asked, saying the last word in the mocking tone it deserved.

Instead of answering me outright, Sunset began to walk away, though not out of a desire to avoid answering the question, but to continue leading me to wherever our destination was.

Sunset didn’t answer me for quite a long time, which we spent trotting in the silence of desolate tunnels. I started to grow impatient and was planning to remind her about my question, but before it came to that, she finally filled the passage with her voice.

“After the war ended I was trying to get into Canterlot and find somepony who wouldn’t kill me on sight.” With a bitter chuckle and a glance at me, she added, “Somepony like you.”

I scowled, unsure if she was right. Very unsure.

“There were a series of ancient tunnels made by Diamond Dogs leading all the way to the Crystal Caves inside Mount Diamond Point. They were already teeming with the Swarm the moment I got into them,” Sunset said with a grimace. “I became Chrysalis’ prisoner and she made me an offer I couldn’t reject.”

We stopped before another set of doors, very similar to those we used to enter this section of the tunnels. Those doors also bore arcanium runes. This time it wasn’t just a password that made the entrance open, but a crystal card serving as a key, a sight that caused a pang of nostalgia to bite at my heart.

As the doors began to moan, resisting rusty rails, Sunset finished in a sarcastic tone, looking me in the eyes, “And as you can see, it worked much better than with Princess Lunatic.”

Now that Sunset’s story was over, I had no need to keep my promise, so I instantly exploded with indignation, “How could you?!” I snarled at her. “She is a monst…”

My words died in my microphone as Sunset stepped out of the way, revealing what was behind her and beyond the doors.

“We are here,” she commented, invitingly motioning with her hoof at the doorway.

A catwalk started right after the double doors. It spanned the chasm of an enormous artificial cave.

Inside of that cave was the Royal Palace.

The days of its glory were gone along with its surroundings. The ivory towers, once gleaming in rays of sunlight, visible from almost any corner of southern Equestria, knew only the blackness of the underground now. Like mold, darkness infused the pristine plaster with a web of black cracks. Tarnished golden spires could no more reflect even the decay of what was called the pearl of Equestria back in my time.

“Why wasn’t it destroyed?” I asked unable to tear my awed gaze from the sight of the deteriorating castle.

The half-crumbled walls, which once had a moat (purely decorative and inhabited by swans back when it still existed) wash over their stone, now had only void sprawling around them. Out of Canterlot as I knew it, only the Royal Palace remained. Part of Mount Diamond Point was visible underneath it, rained upon with debris from the sundered castle.

“Moving the Royal Archives, especially the restricted wing, proved to be harder than it seemed,” Sunset replied, her muzzle scrunched in displeasure. Then in a strange quiet voice she added, “More importantly it serves as a containment area.”

I immediately asked the obvious question: “To contain what?”

Instead of replying, Sunset gave me a sad look, and suddenly I got the feeling that this time, no amount of waiting would lead to her answering me. Passing me, she headed across the catwalk towards the castle’s gates.

Walking upon the palace’s grounds again felt surreal.

It was empty and silent like a tomb. Mounds of fallen plaster, dust and decomposed wood were like barrows near the walls. The moth-eaten tapestries hung limply and forlornly above them like the standards of fallen soldiers. The windows of crumbling galleries were mostly broken, gusts of wind, brought in from the ventilation in the walls of the artificial cavern, carrying stale air sounding like dirges as they rattled shards of stained glass.

It took me some time to understand where we were heading. A wave of dread washed over me when I realized that were walking the shortest path to the throne room.

Why?

The feeling of unease grew stronger and stronger until it reached its crescendo the moment we stopped in front of the sturdy doors leading to the main chamber of the castle. They held strong against the trial of time – oak and gilded steel, lovingly crafted to represent the entrance to the hall of the Goddesses, proved infallible.

Wishing I had a throat to swallow the phantom dryness, I pushed the door wing depicting an alicorn raising the sun. The same alicorn who once held court behind that door.

I was met with the Sun itself.

A surge of panic gripped my mind which felt like it was falling apart. I had to be dreaming, having those nightmares again.

Across the throne room, the cracked and dirty marble, the rotten carpet, a winged and horned silhouette glowing with a brilliant golden light was slowly walking.

Princess Celestia.

I didn’t notice how I called out to her, wept her name. How I ran to her, blindly stumbling, falling and rising again. She turned to grace me with her attention.

Time stopped as I was gazing into her eyes, as I was gazing into the Sun.

And then she turned away and walked to the centre of the room, stopped, staring into the distance, and headed to one of the windows only to freeze and space out in front of a wall. Her movements were slow and mechanical. There was no thought behind them, no life.

It took me a few moments to realize of whom she reminded me. Or what. That body in the Royal Archive housing nothing but a name.

Turning around I saw Sunset Shimmer at my side sadly watching what Princess Celestia had become.

“Is…” my voice failed me and I had to begin again, “Is she… a ghost?” I knew there could be no such thing, but I had no other explanation.

“No,” Sunset shook her head. “A magic echo, an aftersound, if you will,” she continued. “It is no secret that the true alicorns wield tremendous power compared to us, common ponies, but the rules are pretty much the same for them – Harmony limits the distribution of magic evenly for everypony. That leads to alicorns having a lot of energy stored, and when they die, it returns back to where it came. Again, the conduit for magic is limited and thus that stored energy lingers around for some time.”

That was not knowledge I possessed, and at any other moment I would have been delighted to learn such fascinating things. Right now I was having trouble feeling anything but crushing sorrow.

With a deep sigh, Sunset explained, “When the situation started to go out of control, Chrysalis tried to grasp that magic and ‘resurrect’ Princess Celestia, but not only did the magic not return fully, the amount of consciousness it had attached was almost nonexistent.”

So it wasn’t Princess Celestia. It was just… I didn’t even have a word. It wasn’t even the zebric practice of creating spectral family protectors. It was just… the last breath collected after death.

We watched as the apparition made of sunlight climbed the steps to the throne and took a seat, its unseeing eyes fixed at nothingness.

“Why not let her go then?” If Sunset was right there was no reason to keep that magic around. If she indeed loved the Princess like I did, then she would do it just out of respect.

“There is no ‘her’, I just told you,” Sunset shook her head again, and I felt like she was referring not only to the sight before us. “And as for the answer, only Chrysalis has the power to do it, but she can’t come close to this thing. It doesn’t have many memories, but it remembers who killed Princess Celestia.”

All the sorrow I had was gone in a moment, bitterness and scorn flooding back in.

“And you forgave her just like that,” I spat, glowering at Sunset.

It almost seemed that I would indeed have to start flattening her with my magic to get any reaction.

“Chrysalis would never admit it to you, but that was an accident. The whole invasion was a mistake,” Sunset calmly retorted, meeting my glare with a serene gaze. “But she wasn’t doing it for fun, her children were dying from hunger.” Her look hardened. “Would you let yours starve to death?”

“Even if that were true, I don’t believe attacking Canterlot was the only way,” I snapped back with a scowl. I wasn't sure if she was referring to Spike or the equinoids, which itself brought me to an unpleasant thought of him called the Souleater, an issue in itself, especially in that context. It was something to think of later. Anyhow bringing my children into this wasn’t going to get Sunset anywhere. ”Princess Celestia would have tried to help her.”

“She didn’t know that,” Sunset commented with a shrug, “I wasn’t the only one who was young and stupid, you know. And Chrysalis was desperate on top of that.”

It was a very weak argument to defend Queen Chrysalis’ crimes and I was about to object, but Sunset raised her hoof signifying that she wasn’t finished. She didn’t speak outright, however, taking some time to think instead.

“Twilight, you have lived a long life. Aren’t there things you regret?” Sunset slowly said, turning to glance at the statue made of sun rays on the throne. “I could say I regret having a fight with Princess Celestia, but I needed that because I learned a lot from it. But do you want to know what I didn’t need?” She turned back at me, looking at me with a strange expression, a pained grimace, I realized. “You call Chrysalis a monster, but she killed very few.” As my face contorted in wrath, she added, “Granted, they were your loved ones.”

Sunset took a deep breath before continuing in a somber tone, “Right now you are talking with the pony who turned Manehattan into a heap of smoldering ash.”

I swayed on my hooves and took a haphazard step back from her. Being a bane on the battlefield was one thing. It didn't justify the deaths, certainly not the amount of ponies she slayed, but every combatant knew the risk. Trixie said that Manehattan was evacuated, but only partially. It was the most populated city in Equestria. Losing a tenth of it would be like losing Canterlot's population at least twice over. Innocent ponies, thousands upon thousands of them, fillies and colts didn’t know that risk, they weren’t soldiers. Sunset wasn’t a murderer, she was a weapon of mass destruction with sentience, the worst thing that could ever exist. There could be no judgement for her crimes, only bringing her back to nonexistence.

“You told me you weren’t serving King Sombra,” I squeezed out of myself, struggling with horror. The war was over by that time, the Ebony Warlock was already dead. Even if she didn’t know that, she must have realized that massacring the entire city would make an enemy of Equestria for sure. She had already taken pretending to be a witch too far.

“I did it to lure Luna there, I wanted to do something so atrocious that she would regret ignoring me and could do so no longer,” Sunset muttered in shame, but then her voice gained a note of sudden unbridled animosity, her armor bulging, barely containing a body of death incarnate, “She betrayed me, she let me rot as a witch with my only options to either press on as the weapon I had become or to surrender to Sombra!”

Finally being able to overcome my terror, I couldn’t help but turn away from her. Not from fear, but from disgust. How pitiful a pony had to be to come to that.

“So you decided that your life was worth more than the lives of thousands,” I commented not caring to hide the loathing and judgement in my voice. I didn’t want to kill her now, not with my own magic, it would leave a stain on it forever. I needed something like Rainbow’s cannons.

“Admittedly, I didn’t want to die,” Sunset snarked back. Like me, she decided to move on from being nice. “As a traitor, it would have been most unpleasant. You can ask Trixie what Sombra did to her,” I perked at that. “And speaking of which, I couldn’t compromise her position, because who do you think gave her an opportunity to betray him?”

Suddenly, the situation changed. Not radically, of course; Sunset was still beyond abominable in my eyes. Maybe she did something good, but it was lost compared to the holocaust she brought to Manehattan. I refused to admit that it was worth it. There must have been a way which wouldn’t lead to that many deaths.

“Anyhow, I ended up the only one regretting things,” Sunset stated clearly. “I learned nothing there. I just killed thousands because I didn’t know better,” she admitted in resignation.

“That doesn’t make you less of a monster,” I tiredly barked at her, unable to feel more hatred than I already did. Nothing would turn ashes back into ponies. Remembering where it all began, I added, “Or your queen.”

“I think you are missing the point here, Twilight,” Sunset said shaking her head.

“Which is?” I asked her with a sneer.

“Though there is no forgiveness, I regret what I did.” I scoffed. ”Chrysalis regrets taking Canterlot, both times.”

Sunset came closer to me, something I didn’t appreciate, and looking me right in the eyes with a hard expression, said, “The question is: am I talking to a pony who regrets dooming countless sentient beings to be slaves and outcasts just because she couldn’t care less, or not?”

The accusation took me aback. My mouth started to work soundlessly.

“That’s… that is not the same…” Wasn’t it? Surely, that couldn’t compare to killing countless ponies, right? “I couldn’t know…” I couldn’t have predicted how society would act. But deep inside, I knew she wasn’t far from the truth.

In all my righteousness I forgot about my own deeds and now the overwhelming sense of guilt was returning. With horror I began to realize that in fact there was not that much difference between Sunset and me. Guided by her own feelings, by the hate of a certain alicorn, Sunset Shimmer turned a city into a mass crematorium. Twilight Sparkle, consumed by grief for another alicorn, threw an entire nation to the wolves. In essence, it was pretty much the same crime.

There was nothing I could say to her. All that hate and disgust felt hollow and I understood that I was just in denial. My feelings were never directed towards her.

Very softly Sunset spoke, putting her hoof on my shoulder, “I’m not trying to say that you are worse than me.” She smiled in a mirthless way. “I just want you to understand that we’re all on the same page. Sadly, you will learn that there are many others like us.”

I remained silent. I couldn’t even bring myself to look into her eyes.

Sunset held my shoulder for a few more moments, then her hoof fell onto the ground.

“I need to check something out,” she softly said. “I imagine there are a few places here you’d like to visit.”

With that she was gone, leaving the tombstone carved from sunlight alone with another monster.

The golden glow of Princess Celestia’s magic, the only thing remaining of her in this world besides memories, washed over me. It didn’t feel warm, yet I was burning. The guilt was like fiery coals inside of my heart, ignited by Sunset Shimmer the way she set Manehattan ablaze. It wasn’t that she opened up my eyes – I was well aware of my misdeeds before we had that conversation. She made me fully realize the scale of what I had done and where it put me. That was why I dared not ascend the stairs and come closer to Princess Celestia’s magic remains.

She gazed at me from the deteriorated, lustreless throne with an empty expression. According to Sunset, that magic still held some memories, like that of being struck down by Queen Chrysalis. Perhaps it also remembered that there was a mare she should have remembered. I didn’t expect her to; after all, I let her down. That was why I didn’t deserve to take a place near her. It wasn’t about my teacher being killed because of me. I was told numerous times, I couldn’t have known. Nopony could.

For many years, more than a decade, she taught me. Magic was, in fact, the last thing I learned from the Sun Goddess. Her guidance was supposed to lead me only one way if I was capable of following: to become a better pony. That was where I failed her. It would be easy to try and justify my mistakes: I was overcome with grief, I was caught in a war… But in the end it all came down to the choices I made.

The gust of wind coming through the broken window carried a cloud of ancient dust, making it pummel my porcelain body with a soft angry rustle as I happened to be in its way. That reminded me of the place where I was and Sunset’s words. Where could I go here? The whole castle was but a ruin. Apparently, and ironically, the Royal Archives were still in one of the palace’s wings, but I had no need for them anymore. I had learned more than I wished. I continued to list in my mind the various parts of the castle which could possibly be worth my interest.

Princess Celestia’s room? It would be both heartwrenching and futile to visit it, since I doubted anything useful was left there in hope that Twilight Sparkle would miraculously return from the dead one fateful day.

In a sudden flash of insight followed by acute sorrow I realized what Sunset meant. With detritus scrunching under my heavy hooves, I rose from the floor and, giving Princess Celestia’s remains one last glance, headed towards the exit.

Just as the rest of the castle, The Royal Gardens poorly withstood the flow of time. The soil, once fertile, was nothing but cracked dry dirt rivaling that of the outside world. The only disturbances of the desolate landscape were half-rotten stumps left after the most sturdy trees, poking from the barren earth like monuments to their defiance. With the only sun being confined to the throne room, everything else had long withered and died out in the near darkness of the cavern.

With nothing obscuring the view, it wasn’t hard to see a mausoleum, a patch of white shining amongst the fulvous remains of the formerly lush orchard. The lack of any vegetation, especially maze-like hedges, absolved me of any necessity to carefully choose my path, allowing me instead to make a bee-line to the last resting place of my teacher.

It always felt wrong to call it perfect, because it wasn’t a word one wanted to use when describing a grave, but if it wasn’t the tomb of the pony I had cared for the most, I would be able to admire it.

The mausoleum was made of masterfully chiseled white marble (now tarnished to a dingy grey) forming a delicate canopy held by elegant columns. In better days, the stone work could be mistaken for clouds, so airy the structure was. Princess Celesia always loved the sky.

Beneath the canopy painted with beautiful murals, a casket resided, containing the body of the Goddess. Laden with enchantments it was probably the only thing in this entire cavern which wasn’t dirty or damaged. Even the golden plaque gleamed as bright as the day I put it on that coffin.

Here the Sun sets for the last time,

But it will always keep shining in our hearts.

Princess Celestia, Sol Invictus rests here:

Dear sister, beloved teacher, wise ruler.

There was a mournful melodious sound as my porcelain hoof reverberated when it slid across the ‘beloved teacher’ part. The sun in my heart kept shining forth indeed, and I let it blind me, though it wasn’t to blame. It felt wrong to come here after all I had done.

Something caught my eye, and I blinked. Not from tears, I was still denied them and there were more than enough shed at this very place, by me, no less. Though, part of me still claimed that there would never be enough.

Two pairs of flowers lay at the base of the monument on which the casket was put. Moonflowers, Princess Celestia’s favourites, and two exotic blooms I couldn’t recognize. It wasn’t hard to guess who brought the first pair here, the one who must have known Princess Celestia personally. But the second pair… those plants didn’t even belong to Equestrian flora.

The mysterious flowers weren’t the only thing nagging on the back of my mind. There was something wrong about this place. Besides the garden being a hideous sight, especially for me, who had spent so much time in it.

Suddenly I saw it. In the shadow of the mausoleum a piece of marble protruded from the ground, something that wasn’t there before. I stepped closer to it and froze when I was able to discern a few details. Like a six-point star surrounded by five smaller stars.

Twilight Sparkle

3rd Era, 984 – ...

The most faithful of students

The most magical of friends

Until we meet again

My world became that gravestone, my eyes glued to those five lines, reading them over and over until they stopped making any sense. It was only then that I paid attention to the marker itself.

It wasn’t artistically done, far from it. The words were painstakingly and neatly carved into it along with my cutie mark, but the stone itself resembled untreated slab… I wasn’t even sure it was marble anymore. More than that, the surface was covered in nicks and scratches, especially near the epitaph, as if somepony had tried to write something over it. The fact that none of those desecration attempts were discernible suggested that the tombstone was enchanted similar to the casket resting nearby. But the fact that somepony tried to do it was concerning.

The initial shock had passed, but my grave was still making me feel extremely uneasy on many levels. Firstly, it was my grave, not something a pony expects to see. But if I were to ignore that, the marker itself was exceptionally strange. It looked like it wasn’t made by a sculptor, but by a pony who had little to no relation to such an art. It had no date of death. And that last line: until we meet again.

I would have bet my hoof (if it meant something, because I could easily replace my body parts these days) that the tombstone was made by none other than Moondancer. Everything was pointing at that. And who else could do it? My parents must have been gone by then, my friends were either dead or in hiding, Luna was lost in her insanity. The only question was: who left those marks? Who hated me so much that they wished to make it an unmarked grave? The equinoids? Unfortunately, those who could answer that question were likely gone, though I could try to ask Sunset.

Surprisingly, there were two flowers lying beneath the last words my friend left me. Not exactly the same exotic blossoms, but still outlandish ones. Who was that mysterious pony honoring the memory of the long dead?

That couldn’t be the Twelve; for them I was never gone. Nor could it be Sunset; for her I was a rival at best, and she would have brought ‘normal’ flowers. Rainbow had moved on a long time ago, and she wasn’t a mare to do such a thing, no offense to her.

...Chrysalis would never admit it to you, but that was an accident...

...Aren’t there things you regret..?

My magic picked the flowers from the ashen soil and I twirled them taking a closer look at the delicate colorful petals.

I was no better than Queen Chrysalis, maybe even worse in some regards. She never abandoned her children even once, after all. She was ready to die for them. If I was capable of regret, why wouldn’t she be? The first time we met, she was the desperate mother of a starving swarm on the warpath, young and inexperienced. I wasn’t met with the same mare in the lounge hours ago. It would be cruelly ironic if the Queen of Changelings wasn’t capable of change. Just as ironic as that the only flowers at my grave were from the one who I once called my worst enemy.

My eyes returned to the gravestone with my name on it.

Change. Changelings weren’t the only ones capable of change.

In the ground beneath me rested the bones of the mare who was Twilight Sparkle. Who hated Queen Chrysalis, who was irretrievably lost in her grief, who was enslaved by the faces of the dead: Princess Celestia, Princess Cadence, Shining Armor… Rainbow Dash. I wasn’t that mare, I had changed.

Yet I was Twilight Sparkle.

A very recent memory resurfaced in my mind.

Another Twilight Sparkle, who came to Dodge City looking for her friend. A naive and happy mare, barely not a filly anymore, who was infatuated with the Goddess, who knew neither the bitter ashen taste of war, nor the searing pain of loss which never goes away. I wasn’t her either, I had changed.

That Twilight Sparkle was my past, the remains underneath me were Twilight Sparkle’s future.

Then who was I?

“Twilight?” Sunset’s voice called from behind me, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we have to go.” Sparing her a glance, I saw her standing at a respectful distance, looking like she was about to leave.

The flowers were returned to the last resting place of Twilight Sparkle, and I left the graveyard of two, joining Sunset, who instantly began to hurry away towards the exit. It seemed we had places to be.

“The Council will gather soon,” Sunset finally commented after I stole her more than one curious glance, “the queen asks for your presence.”

I couldn’t help but grimace. Though my feelings regarding the changeling queen were beginning to change, it would still take some time before I was glad to see her. Right now, so soon after visiting my teacher’s grave, I was especially not eager.

“The council to decide Luna’s and my fates, I presume?” My question came out in a tired tone. It was something Queen Chrysalis warned me about when we parted, so such a meeting was expected. On second thought, it would be better to resolve as fast as possible, so I’d at least know what would happen with my life now.

“You wish,” Sunset chuckled wistfully, “The fate of Canterlot will be decided there.”

Author's Notes:
This chapter is quite long and for those who don't like long chapters I have bad news. The drafts for the next two chapters are finished with the first being almost 11k words long and the other 18k. There will be some balancing between them (some sections moved from one to another), but still. Then there is chapter 20, which is already 10k words and I haven't written even half of it. There is a chance it will be split in two chapters.
Anyhow, though I have less free time now, I use almost all of it to write. Don't get it as my desire to be done with a story as soon as possible, however. The reason I hurry so much is because I want the final chapters be good. So I will try to finish them quickly and consult with my editors. In the case I flubbed the ending or anything else, I will have to rewrite a lot and I don't want to compromise my posting frequency.
And now I go back to chapter 20. Hopefully I will finish a huge chunk of it today, if not the rest of the chapter.
Aftersound Project Discord server - it's a little community dedicated to discussion of the story and whatnot. Everyone is welcome to join.
Pony Tales, a quite welcoming place dedicated to disscussing and working on many great stories (now including Aftersound). I think you may also find it interesting.
If you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know.
I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.
Stay awesome.

Chapter 18 – Loveless Lovechild

Aftersound

=================================

Written by:

Flutterfinar & Geka

Preread and edited by:

Cover art done by:

=================================

Loveless Lovechild

====================

According to Sunset’s words, my presence wasn’t really necessary and I could skip the meeting – nopony would drag me there, nor was I expected to bring anything to the table but a fresh perspective on some things. The same applied to Luna and Trixie, the latter possessing a lot of valuable information about the Deep Tunnels.

However, the rest of the council’s members caught me off guard: the TCE. Sunset promptly explained that contrary to its name, the Transcontinental Company of Equestria wasn’t a company, but in fact an enormous conglomerate of over a few hundred subsidiaries. Some of those were directly controlled by the High Committee of Directors, like the Hydroponic Gardens. Others, like Kashmare Industries seemed to be unimportant enough to give them relative autonomy. It was those companies, driven by the abnormally cold winters, who decided to seek help from the Crown, who didn’t only care about profit. The fact that most of the heads of those companies weren’t ponies helped the situation a lot. There would also be another Former One present, to whom Sunset referred, with unhidden distaste, as an ‘unwelcome troublesome punk with birdshit for brains’.

We were walking down a corridor on the upper levels when Sunset asked me to wait at a set of inconspicuous doors – an unexpected turn of events, considering how hastily we had moved before. She vanished into the room, but in her hurry forgot to close the door, allowing me to take full view of what lay beyond it.

It was a room with walls painted in bright colors, filled with small furniture and… toys. In the middle of it, Queen Chrysalis sat on a cushion, surrounded by a dozen changeling foals (nymphs?). In her hooves she was holding a colorful book from which she was reading a story. The young ones’ eyes, wide from fascination, were glued to their… she wasn’t a queen in that moment, but their Mother.

Sunset whispered something into the queen’s ear, and for a brief, almost unnoticeable, moment her face darkened but then dissolved into a smile. She said something to the children, and they rushed to embrace her with their little hooves, filling the room with melodious laughter. Our eyes met, and for some reason, I couldn’t hold the gaze.

Maybe it was the endless tenderness I saw in them. Maybe it was the pang of remorse I felt pierce my proverbial heart.

Queen Chrysalis joined us without a single word, and we began to walk through the passages of the Sky Palace, Sunset navigating the path, while the queen and I followed her.

Every step of the changeling queen was accompanied by the soft tinkling of her second, artificial exoskeleton. She moved slowly, not able to match Sunset’s speed from before, but her long legs meant I didn’t need to decelerate to walk beside her. Her steps were heavy and breathing ragged, and more than once we had to stop to let the elder changeling battle with her lungs.

I was thankful for that, though not in an ill-meaning way. More than once I could feel the queen’s eyes on me, waiting for me to talk, but I could find no words. I still couldn’t decide how I should feel towards my former archenemy – I was sure we couldn’t be such anymore, but I hesitated to call us allies.

Finally we reached a pair of ornate doors, obviously leading to an important room.

The chamber we entered was another balcony, its windows offering a view of the vast sea of clouds. It was considerably larger than the one where Queen Chrysalis met us, but with most of the space filled by a large table with almost all its seats taken.

The company at the table was even more mixed than I expected, barely having any ponies in it, most of them being the ones I already knew – Luna, Trixie and Rainbow were already present here.

The changeling queen trotted to the head of the table, accompanied by Sunset, while I was left to take my place by Luna on the opposite side of the obsidian tabletop. It was that table, I realized, the relic from ancient times, a huge piece of basalt so old that it outlived any who knew its tale. Luna and Trixie, who was sitting by her right hoof, had two empty seats dividing them from the rest. The latter was ‘wearing’ her body, which looked almost the same, save for a few patches.

While Queen Chrysalis was having another coughing bout, I used that time to take a better look at those who comprised the council.

A zebra stallion in a business suit who was so tall that his mohawk reached higher than Luna’s horn. On his side, a smaller zebra stallion of either the Mlima or Mabonde tribe, wearing a suit as well. Twin Kirin mares with deeply displeased expressions directed towards a female goat who looked like she had rammed a jewellery shop before coming here with all the gold covering her body. A neighponese unicorn stallion chatting with an elderly earth pony mare in a hushed whisper. Finally, there was a creature I struggled to identify.

She was the size of a young filly, almost a foal and… That was the only definitive thing I could say about her. I would say she was a pegasus if her black feathers were confined to only her wings, but they covered most of her body, forming a magnificent plumage where her mane should be, revealing only a little of her white coat. The filly’s muzzle was long and strange in its form, becoming narrow and sharp to the end. Like Luna and Trixie, she was given empty space around her, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was caused by another peculiar thing about her appearance: each and every one of her black feathers appeared to be smoldering, glowing with an orangish pink like coals.

Finally, the queen’s respiratory system abided to her will and silence reigned in the room, disturbed only by a faint clop of hooves as Rainbow took her place on Queen Chrysalis’ left, opposed to Sunset on the other side of the queen’s chair.

“Every creature present, welcome our guests at today's gathering,” the elder changeling proclaimed, making every pair of eyes stare at the three of us sitting together, though some paid the feathered filly cautious glances as well.

“Trixie Lulamoon. Some of you may know her…”

“I wish I didn’t,” grumbled that strange filly in an unexpectedly mature (and somewhat familiar) voice.

Queen Chrysalis rolled her eyes at the comment and continued, “Twilight Sparkle…” Her jaw worked for a brief moment as she struggled finding the best way to introduce me, “The former student of Princess Celestia herself,” she decided, drawing all attention solely to me. The looks I received varied from incredulous to even respectful, the last coming from the feathered filly along with a gasp.

Saving me from the amount of spotlight I wasn’t comfortable with, the queen motioned with her hoof at the last member of our trio, who was gloomily towering above us, “Finally, Luna… the former Princess.”

Every creature diverted their glances at Luna, all of them wary to a degree, though somewhat curious as well. Before the Council members’ attention left Luna’s stoic figure, Queen Chrysalis spoke again, “Luna’s presence here is one of the reasons why I called all of you, because you know what it means.”

“Right on time,” barked the elder pony mare and pulled a monocle to put it to her eye, “the Edge’s about to explode.”

Her words became some kind of a signal, because the three of us were instantly forgotten, the others visibly relaxed and all turned to Queen Chrysalis, looking at her expectantly.

“I think it can be used as an advantage, let the TCE and the Edge workers kill each other,” the goat commented in haughty tone, countless gold accessories jingling as she leaned onto the hoofrest of her chair. I had a very strong suspicion that she was the owner of Kashmare Industries.

“And lose all the workforce,” one of the Kirin twins snapped at the goat, but she ignored her words, choosing to study her polished hoof instead.

“So, the southern lands are now available,” the huge Jangwa zebra spoke, his voice like a thunderpeal. “I’m still not sure if it is a smart idea to evacuate there. It is nothing but a barren rock,” -he shot a cold glance towards Luna- ”no thanks to one of our guests.”

I looked at Luna as well to see her reaction, but my mind caught up with me and I paid no attention to her expression in the end.

“Evacuate?” I asked. I must have misheard that.

My question killed all the conversations and ten pairs of eyes focused on me, the Kashmare goat rolling hers with an exasperated dramatic sigh. The elder earth pony shook her head in disappointment and started wiping her monocle. Queen Chrysalis slowly turned to Sunset Shimmer who stood with her eyes closed, a tired expression on her mechanical face.

“Sunny, you haven’t filled them in, have you?” the queen asked. Silence was her answer and she addressed me over the table. “Anyhow, specially for our newcomers. After a lengthy consideration it was decided two years ago that the only sensible option is to attempt to evacuate the population of Canterlot,” she explained in her lived-in voice, “The only undecided part was the relocation area, which, thanks to you” -she gave me a nod full of gratitude- “we now have.”

“But there are millions of ponies!” I objected, and was instantly met with more than half a dozen angry glares. Hastily, I added in an apologetic tone, “And other creatures.” Meeting the queen’s eyes, I clearly stated, “It will be impossible to relocate that many.”

I might not be aware of all the technologies and fine details of the world to which I was returned, but I didn’t need that to predict the outcome of such an endeavour: catastrophic casualties. And that was if it was successful, which I highly doubted.

Queen Chrysalis let out a deep sigh and leaned back in her chair looking at me with an expression that I could only translate as: “I regret calling you here so much.”

Sunset Shimmer came to help her queen (and friend). “If we forget for a moment that right now Canterlot is on the brink of war, there are three major issues that cannot be resolved by any means: the magic deterioration, the Windigos and the depletion of resources.”

What? Were they crazy or something?

“Two of those reasons aren’t real,” I retorted. I was yet to hear a reasonable explanation to the impossible – magic was without end, no matter what everypony was claiming. And while the city populace was confirming the Windigo theory with their stories, it couldn’t be true, because it was all the Windigos were – just a story.

“I bet those who died during the winter five years ago have a different opinion, but what would they know…” the neighponese stallion jeered in a mocking tone.

“The Windigos are myth, a tale for foals,” I snapped back at him.

“I once was a tale, too,” Luna suddenly murmured, taking me by surprise, “I am afraid they are real.”

But… but…

An icy grip of terror clutched my mind. None of those tales explicitly said that the Windigos were gone, and there never was proof it was only a tale. The same was true of Nightmare Moon. I considered her an ‘old pony tale’ indeed, and the mare sitting by my side was proof of how wrong I was.

It changed the situation drastically, giving me an entirely new perspective on the city’s future. In fact, it was amazing it was still standing with that much strife around.

“If they are real then there is a way to deal with them.” Admittedly, it would be as easy to disband the tribalists and make Canterlot full of friendship as to evacuate it. Scrap that, I had already begun to regret making that comment – it would be even less possible to make happen.

“That part is unfortunately a myth,” Queen Chrysalis bitterly chuckled, “no amount of heartfelt songs can help the situation.”

“Nothing?” I asked in desperation. My gaze fell at Trixie and then moved to Sunset, “Your magic? Weapons?”

“Twilight, you need to understand what the Windigos are,” Luna spoke from my side once again. “They are ancient beings who sought power greater than that which the core of this world could grant, so they reached into the night, into the void between the stars, and it consumed them.”

There was a haunted expression in Luna’s eyes which made me wonder what else she could know and how she knew what she did. There was also an unpleasant thought: wasn’t Luna reaching into the night as well? A lot of her power wasn’t coming from Harmony; it couldn’t turn a pony into Nightmare Moon.

“Their existence is their torment making them yearn for death,” Luna continued, “so they seek any major conflict in the vain hope of finding their demise in it, but it has yet to happen.” Giving me a sympathetic look, she finished, “Unless you know how to rip the void apart, there is nothing that can be done.”

My projected face became contorted with a grimace of deep discontent. It was one thing to be running out of time because of the climate change making Equestria uninhabitable. But knowing that behind those winters were insane primordial magic apparitions made things truly dire.

“It is your fault they are here,” I threw at the changeling queen along with a hard glare, “All the suffering in Canterlot must have attracted them.”

“Not quite,” Queen Chrysalis calmly retorted, “they didn’t come all the way from the Frozen North for Canterlot only.”

“And what about the magic deterioration?” I asked nopony in particular, hoping to get an explanation for that issue as well while we were at it.

“Twilight,” the feathered filly unexpectedly spoke, “I don’t want to show disrespect, but could you kindly shut up?” Frankly, I was taken aback by her response. “I didn’t come here for the ‘fundamentals of magic with the bug queen and her friends’,” she sassed from her place – a wild sight considering that she was barely rising above the tabletop.

“Fotia,” Sunset scolded the filly, “I don’t think you can demand anything after you melted a hole in the Sky Palace’s walls.”

Her name was Fotia! Fotia Koraki, ‘fire crow’ in one of the old languages. Raven Inkwell, the Former One who was an amalgam of a pony and a phoenix. It all made sense now.

Wait… she did what?

“It is not my problem you refused to let me in,” Fotia barked back at Sunset, but for some reason she gave Trixie the stink-eye.

“Anyhow,” Sunset said, her voice impatient, “you have a point, we don’t have time for a presentation with pictures.” She then turned to me, “Twilight, have you noticed how many arcane devices there are in Canterlot?”

“Yes.” I hadn’t seen a single pony in Canterlot (with the exception of the Edge, though they had prosthetics) without at least one device.

“Most of them are powered by ambient magic, as are some older models of equinoids,” Sunset explained, speaking sharply and quickly. “It overloads Harmony’s limited output.”

Millions upon millions of crystals with active enchantments, perpetually feeding on the thaumagical field. I didn’t take that into consideration. The ponies themselves had nothing to do with it. I felt acute embarrassment for missing such a crucial detail; the fact that the answer was so simple made it much worse.

“Then Canterlot’s population needs to stop using that many arcane devices,” I grumbled in my defense, the obvious solution from the top of my head.

I began to regret my words the moment they left my mouth, and Sunset wasn’t going to give me reprieve. “I hope you realize that it only sounds simple.” She started to sound irritated. “Not with the Tunnels which can’t be subjected to the law even with the help of the Royal Guard, and certainly not with the TCE’s revenue relying on selling such devices.” Now I was the one scolded.

I stared at the table as the unbearably awkward silence pressed on me from every side. I was carried away by my curiosity, turning the council into a lecture. Finally, Sunset decided to bring my punishment to an end. “Are you done?”

I timidly nodded, deciding to keep my mouth shut for a while, unless I had something to contribute.

“Rainbow Dash, if you please,” Queen Chrysalis called the pegasus on her side who had stood the entire duration of the gathering with a stone face, resembling a statue.

“Surveillance of the Light and Heavy Industry sectors shows that the workers have taken full control of the according Edge territory, with only the Wall remaining under the TCE’s control,” Rainbow loudly declared, thanks to the voice amplifying enchantment in her helmet (yes, she was still in full armor, which I found a bit strange).

Another feature of her helmet’s equipment, a projector, created a translucent simplified plan of the Edge territory, a glowing image hovering above the table’s surface for all to see. About a quarter of the territory circling the city on the northwest was marked with a red color.

“A stallion of unknown origins who calls himself ‘Prophet’ somehow managed to unite all the factories of both sectors in addition to providing them with blueprints for an advanced anti-materiel weapon,” Rainbow said with clear displeasure in her voice. “For now, the TCE holds the perimeter, but only until the workers start running out of food. We have no information regarding their food stocks, but it won’t last more than a month even in the most ideal conditions.”

“What about the rest of the Edge?” one of the Kirin twins asked grouchily.

“The Organic Waste Processing had a few riots but they were subdued. The unrest continues, however,” Rainbow replied and a sector of the map south of the Industry flared with pale red, “We suspect they are getting support from the ‘Prophet’ via the Tunnels.”

Almost half of the map on the east went grey from the initial pale blue, and Rainbow commented, “The eastern Edge has practically stopped existing. The Junkyard suffered heavy losses in the recent gang war, and the TCE cut off all support.”

The territory on the map that had kept its original color was laughable. I didn’t know the exact size of the sectors, but I could guess that the southern part of the Edge was comprised of the Everfree Forest and, slightly to the west, the Gardens, both not counted as the Edge per se. The patch between the OWP and the Industry sectors had to be the TCE Police Headquarters and prisons.

“So we have lost most of the qualified workforce,” the other Kirin concluded in the same deeply displeased tone as her sister.

“I’m afraid so, but we still have the main population,” the unsure answer came from Sunset, sounding almost pleading.

“We need industry, we need builders,” the first Kirin mare exclaimed, accompanying her words with the bang of her hoof against the table.

“Without them the main population won’t last. We’re already taking a huge risk relying on your biomass farms,” the elderly earth pony suddenly croaked addressing the changeling queen.

“They will be sufficient, I’m risking my children's lives as much as yours,” Queen Chrysalis snapped back, obviously irritated, though it was apparent the state of the Edge’s territory and it dwellers was making her nervous as well.

A sonorous ringing of excessive jewellery signified that the Kashmare goat had something to say as well. With a conspiratory smile she leaned forward and rejoined the discussion with the same suggestion she had before, “That returns us to the question: why not let the conflict escalate and then just finish the side that wins?”

“If the Edge wins that war then we will lose the next,” Rainbow angrily barked at the goat, “We have no information regarding that yet, but the weapons they use may be capable of piercing Royal Guard armor. Furthermore,” she continued glancing in our direction, “we very recently discovered that the TCE possesses such firepower as well. Whoever wins that war will be capable of fighting the Crown right after and take control of the city.”

A heavy silence settled over the table as Rainbow’s grim gaze wandered from one face to the next, allowing that information to sink in before she concluded, “If the city isn’t evacuated in the next month, then it never will be evacuated.”

“Such a shame that the western Edge is completely out of the question, without them it will be incredibly hard to settle on the new site,” the neighponese stallion lamented.

The elder on his side spoke again, “Who else will join the evacuation at the moment?”

“Do the Arcana Noxiae still have their heads neck deep in their asses?” The Kirin mare supplemented the question with one of her own, her equally (and just as perpetually) displeased twin nodding in approval of the inquiry.

Queen Chrysalis grimaced, but it was Sunset who answered, “It is even worse, they tracked down our contact and now we have no idea what they are planning.”

“Sheesh, your Highness,” Fotia jeered from her place, her beak-like muzzle aimed at the ceiling as the filly leaned back in a display of utter boredom, “I thought you were the queen of spies.”

“Speaking of spies, Fotia Koraki,” the queen was quick to come with a retort. “I believe you have something to tell us? Or have you perforated my palace for fun?” she quipped.

“I like perforating things for fun almost as much as I like burning them.” Fotia nonchalantly shrugged off the accusation, then pointed her hoof at Trixie and ranted, “I wouldn’t have done it if this lazy arcanium shit here had brought her shiny ass to me like I asked, instead of taking a vacation out of the city!”

Trixie instantly exploded in indignitation, “I helped to bring Luna here if you didn’t notice!”

But the sassy filly didn’t back down, her anger only becoming stronger, “You could have ditched her somewhere on the way, no one wants to have her here anyway!”

I winced at those words and quickly glanced at Luna, but the midnight alicorn seemed to take it stoically. Except for her slowly blinking and forced exhaling, not a single muscle on her gaunt face twitched. Anyhow, it wasn't a nice thing to say, but it wasn’t me who came to Luna’s defense.

“How dare you!?” Trixie yelled, standing up from her chair so fast it fell on the floor, “You worked with her sister, you ungra–”

“Enough!” Sunset roared, almost making me jump. It was very loud and fierce, though I was sure, no magic amplification was in play. “Fotia, we tolerated your actions only because you claim to be in possession of some crucial data regarding the Pink Butterflies.”

“Right,” the filly grumbled. She took a few moments to think, scratching her feathers with her hoof, causing ash and soot rain on the tabletop. Loudly inhaling she began speaking, “The Pinks have gotten a lot of rookies as of late. Not only is it strange by itself, it opens up a few opportunities, because the green asses often carry maps with them not to get lost–”

She was interrupted by Rainbow, who with a deep frown commented, “We thought maps don’t work in the Everfree, similar to the Deep Tunnels.”

“They learned to enchant them,” Fotia shrugged, “probably made a deal with Noxiae’s magi, those whores sell out to every dog–”

“Fotia,” Sunset called.

The former assistant of Princess Celestia glowered at the other Former One, but said nothing. A few moments later, she continued, “I used the map to sneak into an outpost with civilians and made one of them talk,” her beak-muzzle dissolved into a crooked malevolent smile, making me shudder. Then her expression darkened. “You are not going to like what that poor griffin chick said, however.

“A year after the Winter, the TCE got two guys with at least one brain cell each. The first one came up with an invisibility enchantment, the second used his grey matter to keep things extra hush-hush. So hush-hush that a whole army circled the Everfree, approached the Castle of Two Sisters without being noticed, and none ever learned of it.”

Everyone present frowned in concern as Fotia predicted, but Queen Chrysalis and Sunset Shimmer more than the others. With the Swarm’s affinity for covert tactics and apparently the vast spy network it was running, missing such a large event had to be a considerable fiasco.

“You see, the thing is that with the hole in the shield right above them,” Fotia twirled her hoof in the air, imitating the mentioned break in the magical dome, “the Pinks got it really hard. So when the TCE materialized from thin air, half of the griffins put two and two together and turned on their buddies.”

“I knew it,” Rainbow spat, sounding not even remotely triumphant.

I remembered the breastplate of the griffin who attacked us. Now it was apparent where it came from.

“That is exceptionally bad,” the short zebra stallion echoed my thoughts in a singsong voice, speaking for the first time, then added, “The greedy guiding the mad.”

The exotic quality of his voice combined with the rhymed speech betrayed that zebra’s origin – the Mlima tribe. That both explained his silence and raised the question of what a mountain shaman was doing in the TCE.

“Not as bad as you think,” Fotia chuckled, making most of the council attendees shoot confused glances in her direction.

“The TCE now has an army of terrorists experienced at guerrilla warfare, what part of it is not bad?” the neighponese stallion sneered.

“The part where the Pinks hate everyone in this fucking city,” the half-phoenix filly snorted, “When the Edge starts fucking the TCE in their mouth, the griffins will put it up their ass, I guarantee you that.”

I wasn’t the only one to grimace at Fotia’s choice of words, but I had to admit she had a point. If there was anything to learn from history, it was that loyalty wasn’t in the nature of griffins, not to agreements with other nations, at least. Apparently nopony at the TCE was aware of that, because it was obvious even to me that the TCE had literally given the Pink Butterflies the knife with which they would be stabbed in the back the moment they turn it to the griffins.

Queen Chrysalis broke the uneasy silence, “Thank you for that intel, Fotia.” Then, rubbing her chin, quietly added, “Though, I’m not sure if there is any use for it…”

The remark didn’t go unnoticed by Fotia, “Hey, I literally died for that, so make it worth it!”

My eyes grew wide for a moment, but then I remembered that Fotia was able to rise from the dead, thanks to her body being shared with a phoenix. Also, Trixie mentioned Fotia being old the last time she saw her.

Though Fotia’s behaviour was aggravating at best, I couldn’t help but respect her heroism. She had sneaked into the Everfree Forest full of terrorists of her own volition and then fought her way into the Sky Palace to deliver that information, not expecting any reward.

“Let me summarize,” the earth pony mare spoke, squinting at Queen Chrysalis though her monocle, her voice like sandpaper, “We have the remains of the eastern Edge to evacuate, the main population and the pegasi purist communes?”

“Are you sure they are going to join?” one of the Kirin asked, a sentiment I shared. The pegasi had a tendency to keep to themselves even in better times. In some sense they were always tribalists.

The answer came from Rainbow. “They have been secretly trying to flee the city each summer for three years, they are more than ready.”

Yup, I was right about the pegasi even more than I wanted to be.

Something was missing. Apparently, ‘the main population’ not only included ponies, since most of the attendees were from other races. Strictly speaking, that elder mare was the only pony here, unless the neighponese refugees swore their loyalty to Equestria. So, ponies, zebras, kirin. Even goats. But I could feel the list wasn’t complete. Then it struck me.

“What about the equinoids?” I asked, not sure if it was the right thing to do. Most likely they counted as part of the population, but I had to be sure.

“What about the equinoids?” the goat echoed in a mocking voice, as if the question was ridiculous.

The Kashmare representative was joined by one of the Kirin. “You mean the organic-life hating fanatics, eh… living above the Deep Tunnels?” I couldn’t help but scowl at the unhidden disdain with which she spoke.

“They are citizens of Canterlot and should be evacuated as well,” I hissed, knowing that I wasn’t exactly correct. The equinoids were property at best, but I refused to acknowledge that.

“Mixing them with the pony populace would result in an immediate bloodbath,” the neighponese stallion huffed. “That is out of the question.”

He was right: there was no way it would be a good idea to try and unite the equinoids and ponies as long as the Church held the reins. Except… there was a seat empty in the Church's hierarchy. The seat belonging to the Machine Goddess.

Every creature had already lost their interest in me, instead whispering to each other, discussing the situation. I calmed myself. Their disrespect towards equinoids was expected, there was a lot of blood and oil spilled between the organic and artificial life. If I were to change that, I couldn’t allow emotions to distract me. Not again.

“But what if they change?” I loudly asked over the growing clamor. “What if there were somepony to lead them?”

Every pair of eyes, even those of Luna and Trixie focused on me.

“Who?” the goat sneered in condescending tone, then laughed, “You?”

A few others joined her, their chuckles not so boisterous, but no less malicious.

“Yes.”

All laughter died and the room became a tomb, so deafening the silence was. No one looked at me with mirth, good-hearted or not. Apprehension was dominating the overall mood. The goat was now scowling in deep concern. Even Luna was giving me a strange, bewildered look. Only Trixie was somewhat approving; Queen Chrysalis and Sunset had doubtful expressions plastered across their muzzles. It was the queen who spoke:

“Do you realize what you are talking about? The only one who can control those fanatics is a Goddess.”

My stalwart gaze was my answer. I didn’t need their approval, it was decided already. I was only informing them.

However, I shifted uncomfortably as Luna’s look turned disapproving. It seemed we were going to have a talk later that neither of us was going to enjoy.

As soon as Queen Chrysalis broke the silence, the TCE representatives began to chat among themselves in low murmuring voices, stealing glances at me.

“I support the idea, we need the equinoids,” Sunset suddenly proclaimed, successfully diverting all the attention to her, mine included.

“What are you talking about?” the Jangwa zebra asked incredulously.

“A lot of them were part of old building crews,” Sunset calmly explained, “With the Edge numbers being severely cut down, there is an acute need of workforce.”

I could feel that there was more to her support than just a practical side, and I was very grateful for that.

Another round of murmurs, loud arguing started at the table. Finally, it seemed that some kind of agreement was reached, though no one looked particularly pleased with it.

“Perhaps it can work,” the Kirin mare stated, then lifted her hoof and continued in a warning tone, holding it in the air, “But only if you manage to control their violence.”

I wanted to retort that the equinoids wouldn’t have turned to violence if they hadn’t been enslaved and had their memories erased over and over, amongst many other disrespects. But instead I calmly replied with a reassuring nod, “I will.”

“Then it is decided!” the queen’s voice cut the the clamor which took over once again after my words. The volume Queen Chrysalis used made her double in a coughing fit, but she quickly recovered. “Every creature knows their part already, so let's get to work. We don’t have much time.”

The sound of chairs scraping filled the room, but before anyone could stand up, Luna suddenly spoke, “I can fully understand why each of you are doing this: to help your brethren.”

I furrowed by brows. With the exception of joining the topic of the Windigos, Luna was silent and showing surprising indifference towards both the direness of the situation and the risky way it was supposed to be resolved. However, there was a strange quality to her speech. It sounded like she was about to disagree.

“Your help is more than appreciated,” -the alicorn bowed her head- “but don’t you think that the evacuation and the following resettlement should be led by ponydom, as it will certainly make up the bulk of the population?”

Luna tried her best to sound polite and calm, but it didn’t stop every attendee from frowning at her words. The only ones who didn’t bristle were Fotia and the earth pony elder, though for some reason they looked sad, with almost-pained grimaces on their muzzles.

“And who do you think should be in charge instead of me?” Queen Chrysalis chuckled, but there was no mirth in that hollow laugh and the next held venomous notes in it, “You?”

“No,” Luna uttered looking at her hooves and letting out a deep sigh. A moment later she regained her composure and added, “But with all respect, it should be a pony, it would be only fair.”

Luna had a point. The Swarm and the other races helping Equestria to start anew were more than welcome, but so far it seemed like the ponies weren’t going to be in charge of that new life. The Crown already wasn’t very popular amongst Canterlot’s populace; there was no way to predict how that stance would change with both the Swarm’s reveal of themselves and the help they were going to provide. However, with the current sentiments prevailing in the council room, it was apparent that many would push for their sovereignty, ponies not being the last of those. We would be lucky if it didn’t escalate into an open conflict. Meanwhile, I was going to have my own struggle for the freedom of equinoids. All those conflicts happening at once wasn't a good-looking prospect. Perhaps the Crown should step down for the sake of everyone.

“Fair, huh?” the queen laughed that hearty malevolent laugh I remembered too well, making me tense up. Though Luna managed to keep her expression neutral, her mane betrayed her anger, flaring up and making a few of the TCE representatives take a couple of steps back.

“Twilight Sparkle,” Queen Chrysalis suddenly addressed me, her voice laden with fake sweetness. Strangely, her tired face, sorrowful even, didn’t match the taunting tone. “You are a smart mare, you are friends with the Edge dwellers, from the Junkyard itself, no less, so you must know the depth of the problem concerning the depletion of resources.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” I had no intention of playing the queen’s games, nor did her implied question make any sense.

“Please, do tell me, what else should be in shortage?” she pressed on with a wry smile, moving to the next question as if I had answered the first correctly (which wouldn’t have been hard).

I barely suppressed a growl – unless I made a scene there would be no way to get the answers.

The whole city hinged on excessive use of advanced technology, it seemed. It wasn’t hard to guess what the second most common material needed to quench Canterlot’s hunger for production was. “Crystals,” I snapped.

“But they are not in deficit,” the queen retorted. ”So, where do you think they come from?”

Only now did I notice that Queen Chrysalis wasn’t the only one who bore that weird expression. Everyone seemed to be finding the discussion unpleasant, though it seemed none was going to stop it from continuing. A shadow of concern began to creep into the edges of my mind. I knew that feeling – I was missing something very important, and I wasn’t going to like the answer when I learned it. Nonetheless, there was a question to answer.

“Rock farms.” Obviously. Growing gemstones was easier than mining them, not to mention that resource being nearly infinite.

“The technology was lost shortly after the war. I’ll give you a hint: the last crystal mine in Canterlot was depleted four hundred years ago,” Queen Chrysalis said, shaking her head in apparent regret.

Then it hit me. With all my focus on Canterlot and equinoids I forgot about the place where most of those problems began. There was even a hint its new name I heard once or twice: the ‘Crystal Mines’.

“They come from the Crystal Empire,” I replied, refusing to refer it as a facility. But the feeling was still there. If it were that easy, Queen Chrysalis wouldn’t have taken a long route to bring me to the answer.

“Now tell me, by your approximation, how long will it take for a city with an exponentially growing demand to leave not a single crystal there?” the queen said, leaning in my direction, looking me in the eyes intently. A grin, both grim and triumphant was plastered across her face.

The question wasn’t entirely fair. If she knew what memories I had, then she would also know that I didn’t see when the Crystal Empire was liberated. Before that took place, I had no chance to learn about the area’s natural reserves. The Great War wasn’t about that, after all. But it wasn’t going to stop me from trying. With my brows furrowed, I stared at the table.

If Equestria ran out of its reserves four centuries ago and had no other way but to turn its eye to those of the Crystal Empire... But even if I were to assume that the crystal ponies were sitting on one solid crystal block the size of the Empire itself… that still wouldn’t be enough to cover four hundred years of consumption, considering the rate at which it was happening. Even if every building in the Empire was turned into components.

Apparently, my expression was a clear answer in itself.

“It took them four decades,” the queen answered quietly, making my eyes grow in bewilderment. That fast! Then she whispered, “But the crystals still keep coming.”

I raised my eyes to look at her and was met with that strange gaze: grieving and full of blame with anger at the same time. It was also… sympathetic? Why was she pitying me?

Without breaking eye contact, she spoke slowly, as if it was hard for her to say it. “There was a researcher, a really brilliant mind. He came up with a genius technology: microcrystal clusters. He committed suicide shortly after.” Her face twitched. “Because another researcher from the TCE very soon found out that the body cells of crystal ponies can serve as microcrystals.”

It took me a horrifyingly short time to link those two facts together. Part of my mind refused to acknowledge that connection. That couldn’t possibly be true, doing such a thing was beyond heinous, it was too unreal even for the worst nightmare.

I just want you to understand that we’re all on the same page. Sadly, you will learn that there are many others like us.

My world was falling apart, my vision swaying. Queen Chrysalis had to be lying. That all had to be a lie.

Her voice reached me like through cotton. “Ah, I can taste it in the air, that horror you feel.” If she was glad to see my suffering, it didn’t sound so. “You have every right to be terrified of your own kind. The so-called Crystal Mines have nothing to do with mining. It is a place where crystal ponies are imprisoned in a virtual reality from their very birth until they grow ripe to harvest their flesh and turn it into components.”

No! Shut up!

I clutched my ears, hoping to cut that insufferable torrent of information, but as my hooves scraped against my ears, I learned that they were but an aesthetic feature, the microphones were installed somewhere else. I seriously considered smashing my head to smithereens so I wouldn’t hear more, so I wouldn’t know the truth.

Indifferent to my torture, Queen Chrysalis continued, “Not long after the facility was established, a group of crystal ponies with the help of a dragon attempted a liberation mission, but failed, in the process corrupting the Crystal Heart used to create the virtual reality, turning it into an endless nightmare. And that was what lured the Windigos.”

“Such an atrocity can’t be tolerated!” Luna roared from my side. The chair she was sitting on slammed into a wall, exploding in a shower of wood splitters, as she bolted up.

I had forgotten about her completely; the shock made me unaware of my surroundings. For her it must have been just as hard, if not more. She had to be blaming herself for letting that happen in her absence. I barely suppressed the urge to agree with that thought and lash out at Luna. The horror in my mind was abating, and blinding fury was beginning to take its place, demanding for a release.

“The crystal ponies must be freed!” the alicorn continued to boom, her voice shifting into the Canterlot Royal, her wings spread and mane billowing, convulsing with the spirits of soldiers trapped in it. Only Luna, I and Queen Chrysalis with Sunset remained near the table, the rest fled to the opposite side of the room.

All, except for Rainbow Dash, who seemed to just materialize from the queen’s shoulder, coldly cutting Luna’s wrath with her amplified voice. “Negative.”

“What!?” Luna shrieked in rage. Her mane was going out of control, the shadowy figures detaching from it to take their place by her side.

As Luna began to move towards the pegasus, I rushed to her side, though I had no idea what I was going to do if they started to fight. However, Rainbow appeared to be neither afraid nor ready to open fire – at least her shoulder-mounted cannons weren’t. She calmly came to stand nose to nose with the infuriated Goddess of the Night.

“Alright. Let’s do as you want,” she began in an icy tone. “To liberate the Crystal Empire, we need an army we don’t have, weapons and provisions we can’t afford from the TCE. And then we are going to march across the permafrost to a city constantly surrounded by Windigos and controlled by the company from which we procured those weapons and lay siege to a city it took Equestria five years to conquer the last time.”

As Rainbow spoke, her words clear and resounding like gunshots, Luna’s anger started to recede, cooled by undeniable reason. I didn’t miss the logic either, and it was making me sick. There was nothing that could be done.

Finally, Rainbow made a step closer to Luna, so her helmet almost pressed against the former Princess’ nose, and hissed, her voice pure venom, “But you wouldn’t know that, Luna, would you?”

It was like Luna had been slapped, backing away from the accusation, which we all knew was fair. Her rage was gone, all the energy to fuel it was redirected to keep herself from crying, though she couldn’t hide the glimmering wetness in her eyes.

I couldn’t decide what to feel towards her – pity or anger. On second thought, I was just mad and didn’t know where to direct my boiling rage, especially with how hopeless the situation was.

Amidst the deafening silence, the queen’s voice rang, “The thing is that I could have done the same. I could have filled the hollow space inside the Sky Palace with pods to have ponies imprisoned in them, and feed my children with their love as my victims spent their lifetimes in sweet hallucinations. But you don’t see that.”

I knew Queen Chrysalis was right. I knew the cursed Swarm acted more noble than ponies! And she was rubbing it in. My mind snapped and I lashed at her, “You are the Crown, you allowed the TCE to do that!” It was true as well. She didn’t use ponies as livestock, but she was there. She could have prevented it from happening, if she was so appalled by it.

The changeling queen grimaced, “For once I’m not going to deny, I gave ponies a bit too much freedom.” She paused for a few moments, again giving me that pitying look. “However, you should ask yourself who that smart pony was who allowed the TCE to come into existence, to be created by… what were their names? Flim and Flam?”

“But Flim and Flam, Twilight! Why them!?”

There was nothing in my mind but the searing realization of what I had done. Sheer panic paralyzed me and a moment and I began to fall, unable to stay straight on my hooves. My leg shot out on reflex and hit the table, its porcelain shattering as I failed to grab the ancient obsidian, but at least stopping my fall. I didn’t notice that, nor did I hear the sonorous peal of ceramic shards raining on the floor. All I could hear was Applejack's desperate pleas, all I could see was her face marred with tears.

“Twilight, you…You’ve doomed us all!”

In the torrent of turmoil raging in my mind I grasped at a straw – it wasn’t entirely my fault, Queen Chrysalis admitted it herself. But it still didn’t absolve me of the blame. If only I had listened to Applejack, if only I cared enough for everything, instead of focusing only on my research, that world of runes and numbers into which I escaped from reality.

“I’m sorry to break it to you, Twilight Sparkle, but I was never to blame for what happened to your country. If anything I tried to save it, and I’m still trying,” Queen Chrysalis said softly.

There was no blame in her voice, we both knew that I wasn’t directly responsible for every crystal pony butchered, nor for every equinoid enslaved. I could have prevented that but didn’t, and she had failed to do as much after me. She wasn’t the monster I always envisioned, but she had done things she regretted. Just like Luna and me, both of us finally facing the consequences of our actions, witnessing the things we allowed to happen when we were blinded by the grief of love lost.

The changeling queen came closer to me, her horn lighting up to help me to stand upright, but only so she could look me in the face. In her eyes I saw the reflections of five long centuries spent in the gilded cage the Sky Palace was, watching ponydom fall lower and lower with each day. The grim realization how she had imprisoned herself and her children amongst the monsters who brought the most horrific fate upon themselves and that she had to save them if she didn’t want the Swarm to share it.

Queen Chrysalis turned away, slightly dragging her hooves across the floor – both the council and the unpleasant memories were starting to take their toll on her ancient frame. Midway back to her chair, she turned to look at Luna then back at me, both of us answering her with pained shell-shocked expressions. The queen’s face showed sympathy and disappointment at the same time as she spoke:

“It has always been ponies who were destroying Equestria and killing each other, for it is their nature.”

I noticed that everyone was gone only when the dark presence near me, a shadow somehow taking up all the room, vanished out the doors. It appeared that Luna was the last to abandon the council, only the changeling queen and I remaining in the empty chamber. I had no idea where Luna was about to go, though I saw Sunset catching up with the somber alicorn. And, to be honest, nor could I imagine where I wanted to be at that moment. I would have preferred to be alone. However, returning to my children was the only option available – I needed my hoof to be repaired, after all.

I began to skulk towards the exit when Queen Chrysalis’ voice caught me midway. “Twilight Sparkle, I’d like you to remain, if you will.”

Letting out a sigh, I turned back to the table. I didn’t really want to, but I owed something to the queen.

“I am sorry,” I muttered as I came close enough, “I… misjudged you.”

Queen Chrysalis, chuckled, risking a war with her lungs,“What an unexp–”

“But that doesn’t mean I forgive you for murdering Princess Celestia.” She might not be the heartless, vile creature I always saw her as… “And my brother. And my friends.” She might have done it all for fair reasons, but she still was a murderer. “I will never forget that.”

The changeling queen gave me a long unreadable look, but then her expression softened.

“I…” she hesitated, “can understand.”

An uneasy silence settled between us again, as if Queen Chrysalis had something to say but couldn’t make up her mind.

Chrysalis would never admit that to you...

I waited patiently, studying the elder changeling’s muzzle. Ironically, with how discolored it now was, the alabaster chitin looked not much different from my porcelain mask. The more I learned about the changeling queen, the more I appeared to have in common with her. And frighteningly, the less it seemed to be something bad.

Finally, Queen Chrysalis spoke. “However, I didn’t call you for that. I’d like to talk.” She gulped, betraying nervousness, something looking extremely foreign on the queen’s face. “As mother to mother,” she added in a hard voice, composing herself.

That certainly wasn’t what I needed right now. I imagined she was about to address my decision to take care of the equinoids, or, worse, my much earlier decision regarding artificial life.

“I don’t think I’m ready for such a conversation right now,” I dryly commented. “I’ve learned enough for today.”

How long had ‘today’ lasted? The last time I fully rested was in Flower’s shack, the time I spent unconscious after warping from Dodge City not really counting. And though my body knew no fatigue, I desperately needed rest for my mind.

However, the queen didn’t give up. With a bitter laugh, she said in a conspiratorial tone, “I’m sure you are going to like what I am about to say.”

I let out a deep sigh.

“I don’t have much choice, do I?”

Queen Chrysalis only smiled in answer, and getting up from her chair to slowly trot to one of the windows taking up the entire wall, inviting me to follow her. The cloud curtain was gone, revealing Canterlot’s streets far below glowing with neon.

My eyes, however, were glued to our reflections. My small, doll-like form, mirroring the shining of the city outside. The tall, cracked ivory statue on my right, gleaming with arcanium stitches holding it together.

There was something familiar with that picture as well as very wrong. A twisted irony I couldn’t grasp, but I tried not to dwell on that thought. I had enough to think about already.

“You might have noticed,” Queen Chrysalis rasped, “but I’m… not really in my prime anymore.” She paused to both clear her throat and choose the next words. “In fact, I am dying.”

Her words didn’t really take me by surprise. It was quite obvious with the way she looked and acted. I guess my fears about a changeling queen’s longevity being comparable to that of an alicorn were for nought.

What took me by surprise, however, were my emotions. There was definitely a dark satisfaction born from knowing that the mare who killed those who were dear to me was about to die and I was likely to witness it. There was an even darker thought: too bad she was dying from old age, she deserved worse. But on the other hoof, I could feel disappointment – Queen Chrysalis revealed herself to be a formidable ally, capable of showing nobleness (well, when she wasn’t killing my friends and replacing them) and compassion the ponies didn’t have. Even a smidge of sympathy was on the edge of my mind – her children needed her now more than ever, and she must have known that as well.

Nonchalantly, Queen Chrysalis continued, “And since you already are willing to help take one species under your wing, I–”

“No!” I shouted as soon as I understood what she wanted from me.

“It is rude to interrupt–”

“I am not going to become a new queen!” I snapped, still shocked by what she was asking of me.

I was taking care of equinoids because I was responsible for their creation and suffering. I had nothing to do with changelings; I barely knew anything about them. Not to mention that trying to rule two completely different species, neither of them having any connection to the other and both unfavored by Equestria’s actual population, would be impossible.

“If you didn’t talk over me, you would know that I wasn’t asking you to do that,” Queen Chrysalis scolded me. “You, how do I put it…” -I was given a critical look- “don’t meet the requirements.”

“Then talk to somepony who does,” I barked at her. If I wasn’t the one she needed, then why mention that to me? And what requirements was she talking about?

“I believe it would be easier for you to do that,” she camly commented with a raised eyebrow.

“To who? Luna?” I asked in a mocking tone. It was the only reasonable option I could suggest, and it was ridiculous. On second thought… “And why can’t Sunset do it? She is your friend after all.” She was the perfect successor – she was likely nearly immortal and had a lot of experience with the Swarm as well as their approval, and she could also forge a connection between the changelings and the ponies, since she was one of the latter.

“I’m not going to leave my children to be taken care of by someone who tried to kill them, even if she willed, which she doesn’t,” Queen Chrysalis huffed, clearly not content with my suggestion. “Sunset can’t do it for the same reason you can’t. The Queen of the Swarm isn’t just a title, there is a ritual that will transform the candidate, and Sunset has already filled her quota on transformations.”

Ah, no equinoids or those who didn’t have their own body. I was only dimly aware of what exactly Queen Chrysalis did as a queen. She was referred to as a mother, but she clearly wasn’t giving birth to hundreds of changelings.

“Then why didn’t you bother preparing a candidate in advance?” I inquired, trying to sound polite. “I'm sure you didn’t start dying last week.” To me it appeared that Queen Chrysalis wasn’t prepared for the situation. “And why does it have to be somepony I know?” I added with concern. If it wasn’t Luna or Sunset, then who else did I know that she could want as a new queen?

“I had a candidate, but she didn’t survive the Winter,” Queen Chrysalis sadly whispered, making me feel a pang of regret for verbally attacking her. Of course she was prepared, she would do anything for her children, but life could always have other plans.

“The first Queen of the Swarm, Princess Platinum’s sister Quicksilver, was a pony, and the ritual she created can only be used on ponies.” I gaped at her, as she shared knowledge with me that probably nopony ever knew. If I wasn’t so tired and the conversation was different, I would have asked her many questions. As if reading my mind, she explained the part that bothered me the most. “There was a community of ponies living with the Swarm, in case you’re wondering, but they all died during a disease outbreak not long after I became queen.”

It didn’t take me long to connect two and two.

I wasn’t the only one who was young and stupid, you know. And Chrysalis was desperate on top of that.

I tried to imagine how it was for her, a pony who had just become responsible for an entire Swarm of hungry children only to have those who provided them with sustenance be gone. Nopony, no changeling to explain to her what to do, leaving her to forge a new path for her nation while running out of time.

Then it struck me. She needed a pony, neither a Former One nor an equinoid, or whatever I counted as. Luna wasn’t an option, which left only three ponies I knew...

“If you touch either Wire or Flower, I will kill you,” I hissed menacingly. Those filles already had their childhood stolen from them, and they still were only fillies. “I won’t let–”

I was abruptly cut off by Queen Chrysalis. “I am not talking about them.” Giving me a meaningful look, she added, “They don't meet the requirements either.”

The requirement was a body devoid of any augmentations.

It wasn’t hard to deduce who Queen Chrysalis meant, and from the very beginning of this talk, no less. Her habit of leading me to the answer instead of directly giving it reminded me of my youth and the way a certain alabaster mare taught me. It was making me feel… conflicted. However, that wasn’t what mattered right now.

“No,” my answer was like a stomp of a hoof, hard and resounding. “Delight will never agree.”

“You don’t know that,” Queen Chrysalis grouchily retorted. “Before you object, let me tell you something.”

I doubted there was anything that could sway my conviction, but I decided to give her a chance to explain herself out of respect.

“I will last the next month, and I may even survive part of the trip to the Badlands, but I will be dead on arrival.” There was no sadness in the queen’s voice, only a serene resignation to her fate. I remembered how Trixie mentioned some of the Former Ones choosing to pass away – the long life was as much a curse as it was a blessing. “Soon after, my changelings will die, too, every single one of them.” I furrowed my brow in deep thought: I was still in the dark about the queen’s role, but it was somehow crucial to their existence.

Apparently, Queen Chrysalis took my silence as a sign of indifference, so she commented, “If the prospect of an entire sapient species becoming extinct doesn’t bother you, there is a more practical side to it.” Before I could answer to the accusation, she continued, “My old Hive is still hidden in the Badlands, a very powerful glamour conceals it, and only a changeling queen can remove it. The Hive can house many changelings and many ponies. It is a city, after all. But more importantly, there is a relic inside: Quicksilver’s throne made of pure arcanium. It has many functions, one of which will create a shield strong enough to hold back the winter storms.”

So that was why Luna couldn’t find anything. Regardless, I couldn’t deny that Queen Chrysalis’ reasoning was solid, and it made me wonder why she didn’t mention the issue to the Council. Maybe because resettlement was possible even without the old Hive. And in the end, it would always be changelings who depended on ponies, not the opposite. The Council wasn’t aimed at saving the Swarm.

“Why Delight? You could have picked anypony without prosthetics.” Besides that crucial requirement, the choice of successor to Quicksilver’s legacy seemed to be random, at least from Queen Chrysalis’ point of view. I, myself, didn’t doubt Del’s ability to handle such a task were it to fall on her shoulders.

“Indeed I could,” the changeling queen replied to me, smiling mischievously. “But your impromptu journey to the Badlands let me take a look at your companions. Clandestine Delight isn’t an arbitrary choice, I know exactly what I am doing.”

So, Rainbow Dash was transmitting everything that happened around her to the Sky Palace since she met me at the Edge. Though I suspected that, it still wasn’t a pleasant revelation. And for some reason she wasn’t eager to reveal to me, Queen Chrysalis was convinced that Del should become the next in line.

It made no difference to me. Delight was my friend, the closest in this world, in fact. Maybe Queen Chrysalis was right and she wouldn’t mind becoming a new queen. But I didn’t want her to be pressed into the decision by the guilt of what would happen if she refused.

“There is nothing you can offer that will make me force my friend to do something she doesn’t want,” came my reply. “I will talk to her, but I won’t mention any of that. It should be her own decision.”

Queen Chrysalis grimaced, thought for a few moments and then nodded. It was better than nothing after all.

Friends in this city… Children… There was someone who still needed my help. I hadn’t forgotten my promise and now was the perfect time to work on making it come true.

“For that, I want to ask something in return,” I said, making the queen’s brows shoot up. She clearly didn’t expect the conversation to take that turn. Looking her in the eyes with a smile, I added, “As mother to mother.”

“Oh?”

In a tone devoid of any mirth, I explained, “There is a certain dragon in the Deep Tunnels, my foster son. Help me save him, and I will talk to Delight.”

“I can barely recognize you, Twilight Sparkle,” the changeling queen chuckled.

Seven was already waiting for me at the door when I exited the council chamber, ready to guide me back to the Twelve’s workshop. But before returning there, I had one more place to visit: the infirmary. I wanted to check on how the girls were doing, though there was a risk of running into Delight (I hoped that either she was still asleep or I could just ask the medics without directly interacting with her). It wasn’t that I didn’t trust the changeling queen – I was sure she would keep her side of the agreement as well as I would mine. It just wasn’t a conversation I was ready for, especially right now.

It didn’t take us long to reach the Hive’s hospital, a surprisingly small place by the looks of it. Seven explained to me that there was a bit of difference between the Sky Palace’s medical center and that of the Hive. The actual Hive was built in the tunnels inside of Mount Diamond Point, and the center located there was much better equipped for treating changelings with their species-specific conditions. Since the majority of the Sky Palace was constructed by ponies, the clinic raised along with it was more suited for ponies, though changelings could be treated here as well. But there wasn’t much need for that, so its size was reduced to a bare minimum.

We were met by a changeling nurse, a petite mare in a white uniform which starkly contrasted with her black chitinous coat. It was the first time I had a chance to interact with a changeling (outside of a fight) and it was… a strange experience.

Her appearance was unnerving at best. It seemed that the scenes of the Swarm wreaking havoc on the streets of Canterlot were burned in my mind, though technically, for me that attack took place only a few years ago. I had trouble avoiding staring at her fangs, or the jagged holes in her limbs, or the wicked horn. At the same time, it was incredibly hard and weird to look her in the eyes, since they had no easily discernible irises.

Fortunately, our talk was short and I didn’t have time to fully show how uncomfortable I was (at least I liked to believe I didn’t). Unfortunately, our chat didn’t last long because Delight was awake, and the nurse hurried away to tell her about me visiting before I could stop her.

The changeling promptly returned, informing me that Del was ready to receive visitors, leaving me no choice but to face my pegasus friend. Of course, I could simply not mention the queen’s request this time, but with how much it bothered me and with how uncannily perceptive Delight was, it could have been written on my face in large print. It was inevitable.

Steeling myself, I followed the nurse, using those few moments I had to desperately find a way to present the situation to Delight. Though I doubted it wouldn’t come as a shock, no matter how I put it.

Delight was given a moderately sized room with a window opening into the hollow of the palace. The reflected sunset was painting its white interior a blood-red, casting deep shadows from the bed and a few other pieces of simple furniture. Delight herself, her left side covered in bandages, was sitting on the mattress’ edge, chatting lively with a changeling colt – another worker of the facility, judging by the uniform and the tray with empty dishes he was holding.

“Twilight!” Del joyously exclaimed as soon as she noticed me.

“Hi, Del.” I put as much effort as I could into not showing that the last twenty-four hours had been as stressful for me as the trip to the Badlands and back. “How are you feeling?”

The changeling colt gave us a glance I failed to interpret and left the room, the tray balanced on his back precariously. Seven followed him as well, giving Delight and me privacy. It wasn’t really needed, but on second thought, the conversation we were going to have could use some.

“Very good, all things considered,” Del replied, carefully extending her wing, paying no mind that we were now alone. “The doctor says I’ll be able to fly again in a week.” She flapped her feathery limb lightly and winced. “And how are you? You’ve got another upgrade, I see. Looks amazing, holographic bodies are some of the best.”

“Holographic?” I asked with a tilted head, though I had a very good idea of the answer before it was given.

“Those magic projections are called holograms,” Del said, pointing at my legs and body glowing with an artificial lavender coat.

My guess was right, and now I had a shorter word to describe them. “Huh, nice to know.” So far the conversation was coming along nicely; maybe Chrysalis’ offer wouldn’t come up this time. Still, there was a reason I came here in the first place. “How are Flower and Wire?”

“Still sleeping. Wire is going to have a new prosthetic installed as soon as her eye socket heals enough, otherwise she is very happy – her family is with her, after all. Flower is fine, but needs a lot of rest and to catch up on a few meals,” -Del’s look suddenly turned from happy to a hard stare- “and an apology. She cried herself to sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, hanging down my head in shame.

“Tell it to her, not me,” Del sighed, “I don’t wanna press you into anything – it is your choice to make, but what were you thinking?”

It was a hard decision to make, but it was something that had to be done. “I didn’t want to show Queen Chrysalis that I cared for her.”

“Why?” Del huffed with a frown, “The Swarm means us no harm.” Though now I knew the truth, it seemed very different not so long ago. “And do you really think the queen didn’t notice how much you mean to Flower?”

My proverbial heart felt faint within me. I could have guessed it before, and the council only provided more proof towards Queen Chrysalis being capable of reading emotions like a Moth on steroids. An uncanny parallel, though I suspected the changeling queen didn’t rely only on reading facial expressions, body language or voice intonations – fundamental changeling magic was at play.

Anyhow, I not only made myself a fool in the queen’s eyes, more importantly, I hurt Flower’s feelings for nothing. “I will apologize to her as soon as I can, I promise.”

It felt like a perfect opportunity to leave, ending that conversation with the expectation of my eventual return when Flower was awake.

However, that wasn’t going to happen. Delight noted, in a tone not accusing but concerned, “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Hm?” I feigned ignorance, though I felt like I was a filly caught with my hoof in a cookie jar. It was likely Delight knew something was wrong the moment I entered her room.

“Are you alright, Twi?” Delight asked me again, and I thought there was the faintest hint of annoyance in her voice.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I curtly replied, still hoping to prevent the conversation taking a dire turn. “Just tired.”

“You’re lying.” Del was the one who actually sounded tired. In a less disappointed tone she added, “I'm not backing out on my promise – I’ll always lend you an ear.”

There was no way to get out of that situation without tarnishing our friendship – rejecting her offer again would distance us. Actually… maybe I should take her help. I didn’t tell her about my virus-induced hallucinations the last time, and though I dodged that bullet in Dodge City, it could have turned out pretty bad.

But where was I to begin? The last day had been full of revelations I wished didn’t happen. Though on the other hoof, the fewer horrible secrets remained in the dark, the better it was. With a shudder, I wondered how many there still were and what they were – the deeper I went, the more massive in scale and atrociousness those echoes of the past became.

Still, it didn’t answer my question of what to tell Delight, who was patiently waiting for me to speak up. I wanted to talk about Chrysalis; I was torn with how I should be feeling about her. Then there was my grave… and my grave mistakes, with one of them condemning artificial life to slavery, the other organic, bringing a nightmarish fate on the crystal ponies.

I came closer to Del’s bed and sat, turning my gaze to the window and the numerous changelings filling the terraces. Their work day was over, it seemed, and now the chitinous inhabitants of the Sky Palace spilled into its lounging areas, presumably before heading into the mountain’s depths.

“I’ve learned… terrible things,” I finally said, failing to choose one issue and letting the conversation decide that for me, “and that I did some of them.”

“What do you mean?” Del tilted her head, earning a brief glance from me.

So, she didn’t know yet. And when and where could she learn such things? The most I could expect from her was to talk with one of the Twelve and ask about me, which would bring a lot of other questions depending on the way they would have referred to me.

“Remember the body we found in the Archives?” I asked with a sigh. My other tombstone. “Turns out, ‘I’ lived for some time after I thought I died. During that time ‘I’ did something horrible.”

I didn’t mention that it was actually me who gave Flim and Flam the green light before the fateful trial took place and split my life into two branches.

Del frowned, clearly trying to wrap her mind around the concept of one pony living two separate lives. Looking at me skeptically, she commented, “That doesn’t make any sense, there can’t be two ‘yous’. You are not responsible for the things, ugh, ‘other’ Twilight did.”

“But I am, because that was me,” I calmly pressed on. It wasn’t an easy concept to understand, but it wasn’t overly complicated either.

“How?” Del shook her head in confusion and frustration. “If you were to return back in time, you wouldn’t do the same, right?”

“But I already did that. Yes, right now I know the consequences and I see things differently. But that Twilight Sparkle lived the life I would have lived, because she is I,” came my explanation. “It is not about going back in time, it is about me, right now, who travelled in the future.”

Delight fell silent again and scrunched her muzzle, deep in thought. Finally, she gave up. “I don’t understand…”

Now it was my turn to take some time to think. In less than a minute I came up with a perfect example: “Imagine you travel back in time to the moment when you became a Moth, when you were about to receive your mark.” I pointed at the burn on her cheek, and she touched it absentmindedly. “You would choose differently, right?”

“No,” Del frowned and gave me an incredulous look, “If I didn’t become a Moth, I would never end up in the Tunnels and meet you.”

I chided myself internally. Del appreciated me a lot, if not as a friend (which I wasn’t really the best) then as a pony who gave her a chance to live another life, one she could only dream of. Though, the fact that she found being caught in the explosion that took half of her face worth it to know me was as pleasant as it felt undeserved. Especially considering the offer I had to pass to her.

“Fine, that wasn’t the best example,” I grumbled and began to think again.

A whole minute, if not more, passed before I formulated my answer for Del.

“I’ve got it,” I nodded to myself and began to explain. “I’m a copy of Twilight Sparkle. Original Twilight survived the trial of the cybersuit and went on with her life. I was brought to life about two weeks ago. But at the moment of the trial we were one and the same pony, and if I were to take the place of the original, I would have done the same things, and she would have followed the same path I did from Flower’s shack.”

Delight answer came quick and was accompanied by a grimace, “Twilight, I’m not going to lie, I don’t entirely understand what you are saying, though I’m trying my hardest.” She let out a deep sigh, “After all, I'm just an ex-whore…”

“Del, please, don’t belittle yourself, you are a great mare, your profession doesn’t define you,” I reached out for her shoulder. Maybe I wasn’t the only one who needed to be heard out. I remembered Del being positive about her last job, but now I wasn’t sure, especially after our conversation before we reached the Badlands.

“Thanks, I…” Delight began to speak, strengthening my theory, but then trailed off and cut herself off. ”Never mind.”

Clearing her throat, she began again, “What I want to tell you is that I don’t think you understand what you are saying as well. Original… copy…” -she shook her head- “that is not how ponies work. You are overcomplicating things.”

Del’s words made me frown. There was a point to them, I could feel that. But just like it was near my grave, I felt like I was missing something, a simple concept within my grasp, but evading me over and over.

“Maybe you are right, that isn’t the first time I’ve heard that,” I joked.

However, Del didn’t smile, instead asking me a question, “What horrible things have you done?”

It made me cringe. So far, the conversation had a vague character, not delving into the details of my misdoings. Speaking of them, admitting my crimes, wasn’t something I was looking forward to.

“I…” I had to pause and compose myself. It was one thing to realize my past sins or touch the subject with Sunset and during the council, but completely another to voice it aloud. “I gave the AI enchantments to the public without thinking. If I didn’t do that, the equinoids wouldn’t have suffered the fate they did. They probably wouldn’t exist at all.”

I was glad Seven left the room. The Twelve seemed to be well aware about my mishandling of their ‘non-Prime’ brethren and forgave me, but I still felt uneasy about that around them.

“I can understand why you hear a lot that you are overcomplicating things,” Del commented, echoing my joke, though without a hint of mirth. “You couldn’t have known how it would turn out, could you?”

For a moment, I was ready to agree with her. The ponies I remembered would have never turned a new species into slaves. I still wasn’t sure what the exact reason the ponies changed was, but they did, and it happened very long ago.

“I think I could have. I lost somepony very important to me, and I just didn’t care about anything back then,” I admitted. It was the first time I had said the truth aloud. “Now I care, and I have to fix what I did, Del.”

I paused and looked at Delight intently. At first, a confused expression dominated her face, but then her eyes began to widen in comprehension as the realization dawned on her. There was only one who could do that, everypony (and every creature as well) in Canterlot knew it.

“I’m going to become the Machine Goddess,” I said, giving a quiet but stalwart voice to her thoughts. I didn’t know how or if that was even possible, but as Trixie said, I was the closest to ever being her.

“It’s…” Del stammered, staring at her hooves and slowly shaking her head, “I don’t know what to say…”

It wasn’t easy to suppress a chuckle. Over a month Del’s life changed drastically: she met a Former One, then a former Princess, shortly followed by Queen Chrysalis and her Swarm. Now she was talking with the creator of equinoids and their future sovereign.

However, it seemed that the initial shock had passed and Del had something to say. “I never hated equinoids just for what they are. It’s just the things they do,” she mused, still looking at her hooves, then raised her eyes at me. “I still don’t understand that thing about you and that ‘other’ Twilight, but I think, with you being the way you are, there is no better pony to try making things better for equinoids. And maybe if they have a better life, if they are treated differently, they will start acting differently too. I have no idea how you are going to become a goddess, though, but I wish you luck.” Her words mirrored my own concerns, but her voice and expression were nothing but encouraging.

Smiling, Del finished, “The fact that I am talking with you right now means that you can find a way.” With a chuckle, she added, “I hope you won’t forget boring old me…”

“Thanks, and no…” my words trailed off, because I had to pay at least one more visit to Del, and soon. “I… won’t.”

How would she react if she was offered a chance to join that circle of ‘great’ ponies: those who mastered the tides of time, who held the celestial bodies in their grasp… those who were mothers to thousands?

“Twi, I know that face,” Del snorted, sounding amused. “You look like my matron from the Silken Flute when she was about to ask me to take an extra shift.”

The leftover mirth from her jokes began to evaporate, replaced by concern as I was grimacing trying to find something nonexistent: a proper way to convey the changeling queen’s offer.

“Del...“ I fumbled with the words, “...The Swarm…” No, that wouldn’t do. “The queen is… Queen Chrysalis talked with me. She is dying and she thinks that you can become a new Queen of the Swarm... ”

Her first reaction wasn’t what I expected: she snickered.

“Twi, the Moths aren’t changelings, I had no idea I was feeding the Swarm.” She pointed at the burn in the place of her Moth mark. “I’m just a pony with a regular tattoo.”

“There is a magic ritual,” I explained in a hollow voice, “It is supposed to turn a pony into a changeling like her. That is how the changeling queens are born.” I avoided mentioning that currently she was the only pony in the entire Sky Palace suitable for that.

I watched as Del’s expression fell, something beyond shock taking place on her face. For a moment I was afraid she was going to faint.

She was silent for quite a while, overall taking it much better than I expected.

“Why me?”

“Maybe she saw something in you,” I vaguely answered, refusing to disclose any other facts since that would reveal the consequences of rejecting the offer.

That wasn’t going to work with Delight, as she inquired, squinting at me, “You are not telling me something, aren’t you?” Her tone wasn’t accusing, but a bit offended – not that I couldn’t understand her.

I took a deep breath before replying, “I’m telling you everything you should know to make your own decision.” At least that was the truth. I didn’t want guilt or anything else to push her into becoming a new queen against her will. I believed that in those circumstances, only Delight’s preference should be deciding. She had no obligations and shouldn’t have any.

Delight gulped and, looking at me nervously, stammered, “A-am I expected to give an answer right now?”

“Absolutely not,” I calmed her. “You don’t have to answer at all if you want. It wasn’t an order.”

Delight turned away from me to look into the window, where the changelings milled around the Sky Palace terraces.

I wish I could say that I knew Delight well enough to predict what she would choose, but at that moment I gave an equal chance to any option she was presented with. On one hoof, she wanted more of her life. On the other, she wasn’t a mare jaded by life; even though she had more than once shown her anger towards certain parts of Canterlot’s society, she was giving me the impression of a pony who didn’t hate her own. She reminded me of Fluttershy with how she had faith in society even with all its faults. She didn’t hate ponies, and becoming a changeling queen would be leaving that life behind.

It wasn’t there the arguments ended, I could have come up with more – I knew her that much. But in the end it didn’t matter, since it was her decision to make.

“I…” Del finally spoke, her voice barely louder than a whisper, but surprisingly neutral, “I’ll think about it. But I can’t promise anything. It is too much to take at once.”

I left the infirmary with a heavy heart. Delight deserved better than that. She seemed so happy when I came to visit her, but so distraught when I left. Though, that could be said about almost anypony in Canterlot; happiness was a rare occurrence in the city, where the worst nightmares became reality. At least Wire was happy, something that couldn’t be said about Flower.

Seven wordlessly guided me through the palace to its depths, where the Twelve’s workshop was located. My mind was becoming numb from everything that had transpired over the last day, or rather, days. My thoughts were jumbled and moving like molasses in a chaotic whirlwind of worries and regrets. The conversation with Del was the last straw that broke my back.

Ironically, it was much simpler in the first few days after I woke up in Flower’s shack. I started my life anew as not-Twilight-Sparkle; saving Spike and getting to Stalliongrad were my only goals. In a sense, I was still living that new life right now, different from what Twilight had; I was about to find and help Spike very soon. Evacuating all of Canterlot wasn’t the same as getting out of it, but it was close to my initial goal.

The Sky Palace’s bowels bustled with activity, I noticed that even through the fog of my mental exhaustion. Changelings were carrying crates and bundles all around, filling the passages with their chittering voices. It was mere hours after the council had finished, but preparations for the evacuation were fully underway already.

Nearly the same picture met me when I finally reached the workshop. The Twelve, or actually, only three of them, were hurrying around, packing tools and spare parts into boxes, though I didn’t miss that there was a set of ceramic plates for my shattered leg waiting for me on the table. However, I politely declined the offer to have my limb repaired right away, asking instead for a place where I could have some rest.

I was led into a tiny room with an entrance I easily missed before – it was hidden behind the rows of artificial limbs hanging from the wall and ceiling.

My eyes instantly fell on an object that had no sense being in a corner of the palace occupied by equinoids – a bed. Confused, I looked around, taking in more of that mysterious dwelling.

I couldn’t make out the walls, because every free space was covered in blueprints and sketches of various mechanisms. Multiple shelves laden with books, both ancient tomes and more modern-looking covers. I instantly recognized a full collected edition of ‘Applied Arcane Theory’, a set of books I once owned and cherished. A tea set, looking as if ready to use, but probably hadn’t been touched in centuries. A massive wooden table, too big for the room… it looked vaguely familiar. On it an ornate vase resided with an antique doll leaning on it.

I was in Moonie’s room. Moondancer’s mausoleum.

Slowly I approached the table and sat in front of it, gingerly taking the doll in my hooves – I didn’t trust my magic with it. And I didn’t trust either my magic or my hooves with touching the cinerary urn.

The doll’s name was Kismet, I could remember now. Moondancer read that word in some book once and thought it sounded funny: ‘kiss-me-t’. The doll already had a name before it was given to Moonie, but she changed it, to the chagrin of her parents. She was like that, stubborn and doing what she thought was right for her friends. She went even further – she changed the old joints of the family doll. It was a miracle she didn’t get a cutie mark related to mechanics or progress.

There was some cosmic cruel irony in the name Moonie chose for her doll. She spent her last days in captivity, creating the doll-like equinoids for an enemy, just because she was stubborn as a mule, refusing to let her friend’s name to be tarnished. A kismet indeed.

I put the doll back on the table, to rest near the ashes of her owner, and turned away.

Carefully and slowly I climbed onto Moondancer’s bed. It felt strange, both as if I shouldn’t be here and awaking some very old memories of having sleepovers at her place. Lying on my side, I closed my eyes and let my mind drift into slumber.

Author's Notes:
Another chapter to go, closer and closer to the end. Those are not just words – I'm going to finish the drafts for the final chapters and the epilogue during the next week. With that, only the editing process will stand between them and you, my faithful readers.
Aftersound Project Discord server - it's a little community dedicated to discussion of the story and whatnot. Everyone is welcome to join.
Pony Tales, a quite welcoming place dedicated to disscussing and working on many great stories (now including Aftersound). I think you may also find it interesting.
If you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know.
I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.
Stay awesome.

Chapter 19 – The City of Traitors

Aftersound

=================================

Written by:

Flutterfinar & Geka

Preread and edited by:

Cover art done by:

=================================

The City of Traitors

====================

Queen Chrysalis agreed to provide me with a squad of changelings to bring Spike to the Sky Palace, albeit very reluctantly. The Hive inhabitants very rarely left its confines without the protection of the cybersuits out of fear of being discovered – a risk that must be prevented at any cost. However, there were places where even the arcanium armor couldn’t always save them – the Tunnels were one such place. Over the years, the underground dwellers of Canterlot had shown a surprising capability to take down the Royal Guard, matching only their hatred for the Crown: no enchantment could stop a few tons of concrete or an excessive amount of explosives. So, the group of changelings accompanying me (or rather, I would accompany them) was going there only under disguises, thus risking their lives immensely.

No cybersuits also meant that Rainbow Dash wasn’t going to be present on the mission. She had her hooves full anyway (and honestly, I didn't want to see her). Sunset and Trixie were staying behind as well. Their presence wasn’t really needed, since Spike’s ‘curse’ would be treated at the Sky Palace, not in the field, which was reasonable. Sunset had to be by her queen’s side, especially with the preparations for the evacuation beginning to take place. While Trixie’s knowledge of the Deep Tunnels could prove useful, another Former One, the Swarm’s contact more familiar with that area, was going to assist us instead. Not that Trixie was a pony I was very keen on having around either. In fact, even my participation wasn’t necessary, but it was allowed nevertheless. For my peace of mind, I guessed.

However, none of that was going to happen immediately. I had twelve hours before the squad would be briefed and prepared, Sunset would contact the Former One and strings would be pulled to allow us to pass seven levels of the Tunnels relatively undisturbed. I didn’t mind the delay at all; it gave me a chance to finally have the rest I so direly needed after all the recent events.

My quasi-sleep was deep, disturbed by only a few rare visions, dark and foreboding, but not quite nightmares, especially compared to all that I had seen.

Clandestine Delight moving her mane to the side only to reveal an emerald eye with a slit pupil and dark chitin surrounding it in the place where the white milkiness of her burn should be.

A city burning and two mares, two demons, one bright as fire, the other dark as night, watching the great pyre.

An endless mass of equinoids all looking at me, waiting.

After each of the images I would wake, only to find myself still in Moondancer’s bed, the pale light coming from the door slightly ajar, the Twelve milling around their workshop. Each time a stray thought would visit my mind: what did they dream about? Trixie said that even equinoids needed sleep, but did they see dreams like I did? Each time I reminded myself to ask them that later, I drifted back into the darkness.

The next time I was woken up, it wasn’t after another of those somber images, but because somepony, or as it turned out, some equinoid (Six, in fact) was gently shaking my shoulder, making the ancient bed frame creak underneath me.

“Mother, it is time,” Six said in a hushed tone. “They are ready to go into the city.”

Apparently my mission wasn’t a secret from the Twelve, not that I wished it to be.

Groaning, I rolled from the crumpled sheets onto the floor, my shattered leg almost making me lose my balance. I grimaced, because it had to be repaired before I was going anywhere and it would have been better done before I went to rest. My only hope was that the Twelve had taken that into account and woken me in advance.

Speaking of rest, I felt better. There was a bit of sluggishness to my mind, but caused by it not being fully awake, rather than completely exhausted. However, I had no time to enjoy the feeling of being invigorated. I had a lot to do, starting with going into the Tunnels.

“Um, I am sorry for letting that happen, but is there time to fix my leg first?” I timidly asked Six, who waited for me by the door.

“No worries,” Six snorted lightheartedly, “Eleven gets something broken every week without fail.”

Six probably referred to the mare with a stitched crack running across her porcelain mask. Shortly after his words, he exited the room, prompting me to follow him. Giving a last glance at Moondancer’s table with her ashes and doll resting on it, I followed Six into the workshop.

During my sleep, most of the spare parts had been removed and packed into crates, now taking up as much as a quarter of the room, towering from the floor to the ceiling in neat stacks.

Five, Six and Eleven (it was her, just as I thought) were waiting for me near the table, with Five rummaging through the box of tools, looking for something.

Wordlessly, I climbed onto the table, extended my damaged limb and let them repair it. Watching my children skillfully remove the damaged parts and replace them with the new ones was fascinating, but my mind quickly drifted off to something Sunset Shimmer asked of me back in the Royal Palace.

No one knew Spike as he was. Souleater was his name now, the bane of both organic and metal dwellers of the Tunnels. I knew that it wasn’t his choice, he would never stoop that low, it was madness turning him into a mindless beast. But it was still sickening knowing that Spike was hunting the equinoids to eat the most important parts of them: the crystals containing their minds. The fact that it was the flesh of crystal ponies added another macabre layer to it.

The situation was an ugly mess. One of my children was killing others. Madness or not, it was a big problem if they were to meet each other in the future. Would they understand? That was if I would be able to help Spike, which wasn’t granted.

Anyhow, the more time I spent here, the more time Spike had to prowl the underground passages, tarring his already feared name with more blood and oil. It was in that moment the last ceramic plate clicked into its place, and Eleven with Six stepped back, leaving only Five at the table.

She helped me to climb down and asked if I was ready to go to the hangar. Having nothing else to ask or do, nor wishing to waste any time, I agreed.

The hangar was not as large as I expected, but still spacious enough to house a few pegasusless carriages of a more bulky, armored military design than those I had seen before. Most of them looked to be partially disassembled, except for one, near which a group of changelings waited. It was there Five was guiding me.

We came closer, and one of the changelings, a mare by her look, parted with her companions to meet me halfway. I slowed down to a halt as she approached, and the changeling stopped a length from me, giving a sharp salute.

“Miss Sparkle, Sergeant Maestus reporting, I’m in charge of the operation,” the changeling, Maestus, loudly stated.

“Nice to meet you,” I greeted her in return. She seemed nice for a changeling, with a sonorous voice and bright eyes. The thing that surprised me the most, and not only about Maestus, was the fact that changelings treated me like nopony special. Perhaps they thought of me as one of the Twelve. Or maybe I was just a complete stranger to them, and their queen told them not to worry about me. Anyhow, it was something to ponder on later, I had more urgent questions at the moment, like, “Um… is there anything I should know or do?”

“Well, I would suggest that you turn those holograms off, but other than that, there is nothing you should be concerned about,” Maestus replied, pointing with her hoof at my legs and body.

For a moment I hesitated in indecision, since I wholeheartedly agreed with the Sergeant’s advice, but didn’t know how to turn them off. Thankfully, Five was quick to understand my confusion; her magic reached inside my body, to the place I needed to learn myself in the future, and the holograms blinked out of life.

After an approving nod, Maestus motioned to me with her hoof to follow and began to trot towards the rest of the squad waiting for us, speaking over her shoulder as she walked, “Our mission is simple, we get into the Tunnels, meet our contact on level seven and then he guides us to the target.”

“Target?” I echoed her words with an invisible frown.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, it’s just our terminology,” Maestus explained hurriedly. Her next words surprised me, but in a good way, a very rare occurrence. “We were very thoroughly briefed on that dragon, Spike, having a huge importance to you and that he should be captured with as little damage done as possible.

“We capture Spike and head back home,” Maestus finished, turning to face me, as we reached the vehicle. “You just stay with us. The Command Center has cleared the area, so nothing should pose any threat.”

Her squad nodded in agreement, and even a bit encouragingly, giving me mildly curious looks. For once, it sounded like things were under control and I had nothing to worry about.

No time was wasted, and as soon as I arrived, the last of the equipment was carried into the hull of the carriage, a so-called hovercraft. Maestus noted that we were going to visit the nearest hospital garage first, so the hovercraft could be disguised as a medical vehicle and thus allow us to proceed further under a false front.

The passenger compartment was quite commodious, probably big enough to fit a young adult dragon in it, but it was hard to say for sure – I hadn’t gotten that good a look at Spike. The squad, ten changelings in total, including their Sergeant, took their places on the seats arranged near the door into the pilot cabin. I decided to sit not far from them, beside a small observation window paned with thick dirty glass, likely armoured.

The hovercraft promptly took off and flew out the hangar. I noted how we passed through an almost imperceptible film of magic. However, through the window I could see that in place of the hangar we just left was the smooth surface of the Sky Palace’s gray wall. A glamour, and a powerful one at that. No wonder, seeing as the queen was capable of creating an illusion strong enough to withstand five hundred years of scrutiny from somepony notorious for relying on illusions herself.

My gaze began to wander between the gleaming towers of the Inner City. I thought I recognized the familiar logo of the ‘Kashmare Industries’ building, but it was hard to tell. Though that part of Canterlot was bright and pristine, it was also monotonous, with the nearly identical shining skyscrapers bathing each other in neon, reflecting it like colossal kaleidoscopes.

However, the light of the Inner City didn’t last for long, becoming gradually replaced by the shorter dark monoliths of the Outer City. It was a depressing landscape, dirty and decaying, ruled by rust and grime, though not devoid of rare specks of neon, contrasting starkly with their dreary surroundings. Needle-like rundown towers gazed into the city with dingy windows lit by the cold pale light of underpowered office lamps. Monumental buildings of strange abstract bulky designs, massive pyramidal ziggurats, loomed over Canterlot. Their windowless concrete walls were bathed in the tongues of fire periodically spewed by the rare factories, those beacons of industry, guests from the Edge.

Amidst the filth of the Outer City the Thunderspires towered, constantly assaulted by storms. Their arcanium apexes were plunged deep into the laden layer of clouds summoned to unleash their fury to feed into the streets below, making them shine and live. Though the vapor was most thick around those nature-challenging constructions, it also was everywhere in the city, stealing all the color and impairing visibility, turning Canterlot into something from an old film, save for the neon, which contrasted with everything else even more because of it.

As I stared at the gruesome landscape surrounding the hovercraft all sides, it suddenly dawned on me. They build because they are afraid, I read in one old scroll, an ancient work of a Kirin philosopher.

Trixie wasn’t wrong with her answer for why the future had turned out grim. Fear had great power over ponies, almost the greatest. King Sombra’s tyrannical rule was undeniable proof. Ponies feared for the future, but more importantly, they feared each other, and I couldn’t blame them – there were never horrors so abhorrent as those lurking in the hearts of others, as it turned out. However, it still wasn’t the most true answer, it didn’t explain everything, for the question remained: where did that darkness of spirit come from? It wasn’t there before.

Rainbow was right as well, the span of ponies’ lives didn’t let them hold a memory of the terror for so long. Eventually, with the last witnesses, any horror would carry less and less significance in the eyes of generations to come. Nightmare Moon became a tale, Nightmare Night was nothing but a joyous celebration. Exactly the same happened with the Windigos. The ponies had forgotten the night that maybe didn’t last forever, but for many tumultuous weeks; the endless winter, colder than any before it, which almost wiped out ponydom. But they remembered before. Why did they start to forget?

It was irritating and hard to admit, but Queen Chrysalis was the closest to an answer that accurately covered everything. The ponies’ nature, their follies empowered by fear and given enough time created this nightmare. But that wasn’t the reason, it was merely the consequence of two singular events.

First, Princess Celestia’s death. Second, the time we failed to use the Elements against Sombra. It wasn’t even against whom they failed, but the fact that they failed.

The failure of Equestria was that it hinged on material things.

A timeless goddess of perfection, a shining symbol of prevalence, of peace and virtue. Princess Celestia was an eternal example, something that countless generations strived to, even if it was forever unreachable. When she was gone, the ponies lost their guiding light. They were so used to it that without her guidance they couldn’t see virtue anymore.

And while Princess Celestia was a paragon, out of grasp but still desired and aimed for, the Elements were a whip, a reminder of what would happen to those who strayed away from the light.

The Equestria I remembered was a land of carrots and sticks. This… this was a land of absolute freedom. Queen Chrysalis had no idea how to run a country that wasn’t a Hive full of her children. And even if she knew, even with the help of Sunset, ponies still weren’t her children, they were something above livestock, and she let Canterlot decide its own fate. She would have never been a shining example, anyway. Not because she couldn’t, the queen of changelings was a supreme master of masks, nor because she was inherently bad – the concept of a goddess was simply alien to her. She was only a mother.

In the root of all that wrongness was one simple thing: materialism. All the values, all the virtues that ponykind had shown for centuries existed only as long as they were maintained by two miraculous but still material things – the Elements and the Princess. They weren’t born from the very hearts of ponies, but put there by their shepherd and whip.

In retrospect, it should have become apparent as soon as Luna strayed from her path. It showed that the Goddesses were fallible. We were meant to fall, the elder on the bridge across the Black River told me. Perhaps he had a point, but to admit it was to admit that ponies were flawed by definition, hopeless and vile. But I knew it wasn’t true. There were ponies who needed neither carrot nor stick to be good.

Why?

That moment the hovercraft shook, and the humming of its frame ceased, something I noticed only now. The view out of the window had changed as well, showing another hovercraft, painted in red and white, instead of the dreary landscape. The colors were obvious, matching those typically associated with hospitals, telling me that we had arrived at our ‘staging area’. I expected the squad to take their equipment and move into one of the hospital flying carriages, but the changelings remained still, barely reacting to our temporary stop.

“Obfucia, fire it up,” Maestus ordered, and I felt a surge of magic as the addressed changeling's forehead lit up with strange arcane energies coming from a bulky device strapped to her horn.

In the reflection on the hospital hovercraft I could see the magical aura enveloping ours into a cocoon. Moments later the glow around it dissipated, leaving behind a vehicle identical to any other in that hangar. Though it wasn’t changeling magic, it was exactly their style.

Five of the changelings comprising the squad had those bulky contraptions on their foreheads, gleaming with arcanium – artificial horns. They had their own horns underneath, of course, but those devices allowed them to use spells other than transformation. The spells themselves were ‘bottled’ as it was called, contained inside crystals kept in the bandoliers hanging from their armored vests. Looking like sparks trapped in shards of glass, most of them were stunning spells. The fact that the Twelve were responsible for arming the Swarm with magic was invoking in me mixed feelings.

The vehicle took off and I turned away from the window, tired from both the unpleasant scenery and the thoughts of the same quality it was bringing. Apparently, the disguise removed the tension, and the squad began to whisper among themselves, until one of the soldiers, a lively slim mare spoke:

“Hey, Sarge, I heard the Captain is pissed off,” she chirped in a mirthful voice.

Maestus chuckled in answer, “Wait, Teleta, are you saying there was a time when she was not pissed off?”

Her question-answer made the whole squad laugh, a strange sound accompanied by the chirr of their wings. I raised my brow (only to be reminded that I had no ‘face’ now) because they were casually talking about none other than Rainbow Dash.

“Eh, fair enough,” Teleta shrugged. “But she is, like, extra mad.”

“Yeah, I heard her squad is still doing push-ups,” another changeling, a burly stallion supplemented.

That changeling’s comment opened the dam, and every member of the squad, save for the illusion caster and the Sergeant, leaned to each other and began to share rumors.

“You know how she hates when Mother interferes with her missions, but I heard it is about that strange pony she brought back.”

“You mean that creepy huge mare?”

“Aye, my sister saw her, says she looks like the Huntress from the tales, but actually is kind and stuff.”

“Huh, who could have guessed.”

“But I heard…”

Maestus was silent, though listening to the exchange with an avid interest. At some point she caught my eyes and shrugged with a smile, then her gaze slid to the window and she coughed, clearing her throat.

“Alright, squad, leave all that talk to the locker room,” she barked. “Now, put on the disguises, we are nearing the drop point.”

Ten flashes of emerald fire signified the transformation and a moment later ten ponies were sitting in the hovercraft. All of them looked like some kind of thug, resembling mercenaries.

“Teleta, you have horizontal irises.” Maestus began to chide her squad, prompting them to perfect their appearances. “Radix, define your muscles, for your size you look like a sack of lard. Lamina, less plastic in your mane.”

A couple of minutes later the vehicle shook again, this time more violently, and the door leading out opened. By the time it happened, the squad had unstrapped themselves and was ready to exit the hovercraft, their shoulder-mounted guns rattling menacingly. Even with the Tunnels being supposedly clear, they weren’t going to take any chances, it seemed.

“Go, go, go!” Maestus hurried the changelings and threw over her shoulder to me, “Keep up with us, Miss Sparkle!”

I ran after her and found we were in the middle of some abandoned factory’s backyard, next to a stairwell entrance dug into the earth. I barely caught sight of Maestus as she disappeared into the underground, and I hurried after her.

The Tunnels met me with an onslaught of reek and darkness, something I had almost forgotten and wasn’t overly happy with being reminded of. Idly, I thought that I should have asked the Twelve to turn off my olfactory detectors. At least it seemed empty. The changelings clung to the walls, checking around the corners, one of them waiting for me. As soon as I stepped off the stairs, the trap door leading into the passage slammed shut with a resounding bang. It served as a signal for the rest to start moving. The changeling who waited for me was at the tail of procession, watching my back and for any threats coming from behind.

The stairwell led not to the generic entrance segment of the Tunnels, but into a vast open space, full of rusted pipes and torn cables. It was likely part of the factory on the surface, either another working level or a maintenance floor. Whatever purpose it once served didn’t matter anymore, since now it seemed to be a home for underground dwellers, with dirty mats strewn all around the floor, forming circles around burning barrels. But not a single pony, or any other creature, was in sight.

The Tunnels were absolutely desolate, save for rats. The only ponies present were unmoving dessicated corpses or still, quietly moaning bodies of those who were soon going to join the first kind. The squad moved deftly and after a couple of turns we came to another stairwell leading down.

The same repeated itself five more times, the Tunnels becoming progressively darker and cleaner, losing their trademark horrid stench, but becoming more ominous with the mass of stone growing, dividing us from the surface, pinning us to the impenetrable chaotic darkness below. I also wondered how the Swarm had managed to clear the levels belonging to the equinoids, though I suspected a pony (or equinoid) shrieking about nanosprites or the Souleater could leave it deserted in no time.

The only good thing was that even though none of the squad members dared to lower their weapons, there was never a reason to use them. Suddenly, something shifted in the darkness and I regretted my premature celebration.

Out of the near-darkness lit by a dying lantern weakly clinging to the wall, a large shape moved, a gargantuan figure glistening with blackened metal. It took another step into the light and I almost gasped: it was the same behemoth in the suit covered in time-bending runes I had met in the Deep Tunnels.

Immediately, twenty gun barrels pointed at the armor-clad pony, but the giant didn’t bother to stop or even pause, simply continuing to shamble forward. It stopped in front of Maestus, towering over her like an alicorn.

The Sergeant lowered the barrels of her guns and, snapping her hooves to attention, saluted, “Captain Soarin.”

I blinked. Mostly on the inside, as shutters of my eyes weren’t really fast at opening and closing. But my lack of face wasn’t what bothered me, but two facts. First, it was Soarin, a pony from ‘my’ time, though I never knew him personally. The second thing, which didn’t slip my attention and confused me greatly: he shared his rank with Rainbow Dash, and she was in charge of the entire Crown’s military force.

Anyhow, all things considered, Soarin had to be the contact who was supposed to lead us to Spike.

Two streams of compressed air left the huge respirators on Soarin’s helmet with a loud menacing hiss. Then a grave voice, distorted by the low quality of the microphone and sounding like a weak radio message, rasped, “Corporal Maestus, isn’t it?”

“Sergeant Maestus, sir,” she saluted again in a prideful tone.

To Maestus’ discontent, Soarin barely reacted to her promotion, sparing her only a curt nod. Then he moved to me. Though it wasn’t the first time I had seen him in action, it still surprised me how something as massive and heavy as his armor moved so frighteningly fast.

“You must be Twilight Sparkle,” Soarin’s voice rumbled through a microphone, and through the thick amber glass of his helmet’s visor two dark eyes surrounded by countless wrinkles peered at me. “Damn me, I thought I was imagining things, but it actually was you.”

Ah, so he did recognize me then. Though, I couldn’t blame him for not believing it was me – I wouldn’t have, especially in a place where even the stone of the tunnels couldn’t be trusted.

“I am happy to see a familiar… erm, face,” I replied a bit awkwardly. Not that it was that familiar, nor could I see it.

However, Soarin paid no attention to that. “I’m happy to see a new familiar face, or at least somepony who isn’t Trixie or Fotia.” The relief and joy in his voice were obvious even through all the static.

“What’s wrong with Trixie?” I asked, tilting my head. I knew of Fotia’s abrasive personality firsthoof and could easily understand Soarin there. However, Trixie wasn’t such a bad pony to talk to from what I knew, her shady (no pun intended) past aside.

“She can’t shut up about her marefriend leaving her,” he snorted, the sound of a distorted raspberry coming from his microphones.

Trixie had a marefriend? Who could it be, perhaps another Former One? It had to be so, considering her unnatural lifespan. What was that mare’s name, the one who wasn’t in Canterlot at the moment? Octavia Melody... I knew she was a special pony for Trixie, but I never guessed she was that kind of special. How did it even work?

Oblivious to my musings, Soarin changed the topic. “Anyhow, I was told you are looking for Spike.”

“Yes,” I eagerly nodded. “Do you know where to find him?”

It didn’t evade me that Maestus grimaced behind Soarin and rolled her eyes. She was in charge of the mission, but Soarin seemed to be more inclined to interact with me rather than with the changeling officer.

“Kinda,” Soarin answered in an unsure tone, the wrinkles visible through the tinted glass creasing into a disgruntled frown. “Spike lives in the Deep Tunnels, I suspect he has a hoard somewhere in there, or a nest, though I can’t find either of them. I will lead you to an area where they might be, the rest is pure luck. Pray that he isn’t hunting, though.”

True to his word, Soarin guided us into the Deep Tunnels, and to my immense worry very deep into them, to the part which I would call uncharted territory. The preternatural, almost living, darkness met us there, as ominous as I remembered it. The changeling squad, however, refused to be daunted by it. Powerful flashlights were cutting through the thick shadows, revealing suspiciously inconspicuous stone – with how decrepit the last levels of the Tunnels looked, these walls were too immaculate in comparison. The rays of light cutting through the blackness, which seemed to hesitate for a moment too long before fading away, weren’t the only things pointed at the shadows. Guns were constantly pointed at the unseen, swiveling around. Since the Crown’s power didn’t extend that deep into the city (there was no such power in Canterlot, I suspected), they sometimes had to be used.

A few madponies, hysterically half-sobbing half-giggling, attracted by the light had to be scared away – to my surprise, the changelings fired warning shots first. Though, a couple of times it wasn’t enough.

We were constantly followed by predatory forms glistening with corroded metal, their eyes dimly glowing in the dark. One of those… things (I dared not call them equinoids) pounced from the shadows at Teleta only to receive a blast from her gun (a smaller version of Rainbow’s cannons from what I could tell, firing magic projectiles) and with a terrifying screech sounding more like metal rending fell back to its brethren stalking us. It happened so fast that I barely caught a glimpse of a slender body made of countless little scraps of metal clinging to a metal skeleton like scales. That thing was something between a dragon, a timberwolf and a machine. However, one more thing caught my attention.

“Fuck those Accursed,” Teleta grumbled not long after the assailant was pushed back into the blackness from which it came.

It wasn’t the first time I had heard the word she used to describe the sordid mechanical being, though I couldn’t recall when it was mentioned before. The changeling mare was busy reloading her weapon with magic batteries - basically the same crystals as those used by the artificial horns, but of a much smaller size. Curious as usual, I didn’t hesitate to quietly ask her.

“Who are they?”

“The Accursed?” Teleta pointed at the silhouettes skittering in the dark. As I nodded, she scrunched her muzzle and, looking very uncertain, intoned, “Eh...”

Radix, a large stallion in both his changeling and pony form, came to her help, “They are one of the dumbest things the TCE has ever done.”

I tilted my head, now even more interested in the origin of the Accursed. However, Radix didn’t seem too eager to continue the chat, focusing on his surroundings instead. I almost gave up on sating my hunger for answers when a mare, Lamina, approached me from my side.

“I obviously wasn’t present back then, it happened, like, three hundred years ago, but I heard the story a lot,” she began in a hushed tone, stealing glances at Maestus. “The TCE was constantly nagged by both the police and our Mother about runaway equinoids, so they decided to make something new with their next, tenth, model.”

It was then that Maestus noticed her soldier having a chat with me and slowed down to walk by my other side. Instead of chiding Lamina, she picked up the thread of conversation:

“Somepony at the TCE decided that it would be a very smart decision to make the crystals of the GenX, as they called their new line, deteriorate after a specific amount of time, thus killing an equinoid if they run away. Their production cost was much lower than usual, so the new models sold like hot scones.”

I could only grimace at that – actually, I couldn’t. Anyhow, it was a very cruel and lazy way to deal with a problem which could be fixed only by a total reformation of the equinoid-pony relationship.

My lack of outward reaction prompted Lamina to go on to what happened next, “After four years the equinoids’ brains began to rot in their heads, and it was then all Tartarus broke loose.”

“Most of the GenX’s become violent and insane, which became a huge problem because many citizens refused to give their equinoids back to the TCE in time,” Maestus supplemented with a scowl. “The Tunnels were no better.”

“The situation became so dire that the entire city had to unite, the TCE, the Tunnels, everyone. They even let us under Canterlot, for the first time,” Lamina said, shaking her head. “The GenX’s were skinning ponies and wearing their skin, thinking that it would hide them from death. They were ripping out the older models’ gems and trying to replace theirs with them.”

I shuddered at that. Four years… It was so short a lifespan, barely enough to experience what life is, but enough to get a taste of it and crave for more. Combined with a deteriorating psyche and a body basically unaffected by age, it could end only in catastrophic disaster.

“Most of the GenX was exterminated, but some managed to flee into the Deep Tunnels,” Maestus finished, nodding her head at the moving darkness, glistening with the promise of deadly metal insanity. “The equinoids call them the Accursed, punished by their Goddess for turning on their kin.”

With that, both Maestus and Lamina left me, so only my somber thoughts were company. What would I have done with the Accursed? It wasn’t their choice to become the way they were. What would I do with the Accursed if I became the Machine Goddess? Would I forgive them? There was one more thing attached to that question. I wasn’t the Machine Goddess, and before I could be, I would have to make that same decision relating to my other child. Would I forgive Spike for all the murders he had committed, even though it wasn’t his intention?

The next encounter with the dangerous inhabitants of the Deep Tunnels let me take a better look at it, but I wished I didn’t.

The sound came first, the clicking of beaks accompanied by the gnashing of teeth and the sound of something heavy and wet being dragged across the floor in jerks. Way too soon a mass of gray flesh that had never seen sunlight began to fill most of the passage. Countless gaping and hungrily snapping jaws full of needle-like wicked fangs, and twitching tentacles with shards of broken bone poking out of gangrenous meat rushed in our direction only to be met with a barrage of arcane energy. The abomination instantly recoiled, cutting the damp air with a sonorous deafening shriek (which strangely didn’t echo), and was gone back into the inky blackness from which it came. We waited no less than fifteen minutes, the beams of flashlights scanning all directions, for it to return, but the tunnels were empty, with only a few patches of a foul-smelling ichor reminding us that it wasn’t a collective nightmare.

Though incredibly terrifying, those occasions were thankfully rare, and at some point I got an opportunity to talk with Soarin.

“You are part of the Crown,” I cautiously said as I totted by his side. It was a bit awkward since it felt like talking with a buffalo.

“Um-hum,” came Soarin’s laconic reply.

With all the distortion of his voice I couldn’t tell the mood of that reply. Hoping that his terseness wasn’t caused by his lack of desire to discuss that topic, I continued, “But why here? Aren’t you a captain?”

“I am the Captain of the Wonderbolts, but only because I’m the last of them,” Soarin huffed, “It just stuck with me.” After a pregnant pause he let out a deep sigh and added, “Dash and I didn’t... see eye to eye. Let's call it that.”

My non-existent brows shot up. Considering the way Rainbow was, I could easily understand Soarin, but I still felt compelled to know, “What happened?”

“You see, she is the reason I’m here now,” Soarin began and quickly explained, “Not as in ‘here in these Goddesses-forsaken tunnels’, but in general.

“I was the last Wonderbolt, old as dirt, when I heard rumors about her returning. I didn’t believe it at first, of course. But then I milked some of my old hookups for confirmation and learned that it was no rumor. Spent all my cash on bringing myself back to working condition, bought some equipment on what was left and sneaked into the Sky Palace, right into Rainbow’s quarters.” Soarin paused and I could see through the visor his face contorting in a grimace. “That was an awkward situation, since it didn’t evade me that the place was full of changelings by the time I found her, but I ended up working with them, thanks to Dash. They put me in this can, it doesn’t matter how old I am with it.”

So, Rainbow probably used the same line of persuasion she tried on me – it was the only reasonable choice. She wasn’t wrong in all honesty, but it didn’t justify her approach to resolving issues.

“But what was the problem?” I asked, kind of knowing the answer already.

“War,” Soarin took me by surprise with his reply and I kept my ears open to hear what he was going to say next.

“I was the last Wonderbolt not because we all died during the Great War or because an apple pie gives you eternal life. Spitfire was the only one who didn’t return from the last mission: to hunt down the remains of the Coven.” Soarin fell silent for a few moments. To honor the memory of the previous captain, I guessed. Then he continued, “I was the only one who left the military after the rest of us returned. Fleetfoot joined the police, shooting herself in the head a decade later. Thunderlane became a military instructor and reached the grave at the bottom of a booze bottle. And so on,” he grimly concluded and fell silent again.

A few minutes passed before he returned to his tale. All that time I silently lamented the fate of what was once one of the most famous and prestigious flying teams in Equestria. Along with Rainbow’s Special Air Forces, they were the ones who carried the war on their backs… wings... away from a total defeat. Now thinking of it… what was the reason Dash created her own team instead of joining the Wonderbolts?

Not letting me dwell on that thought, Soarin spoke, “They all made the same mistake: they didn’t let the war release them. They should have started a new life, like I did, but instead they let it continue seeping into their minds, haunting them. Breaking them.”

The Wonderbolts didn’t die during the Great War, but they still were its victims. I wondered how many ponies became such casualties in the years following the last battle at the Frozen North.

“Rainbow…” Soarin rumbled, his voice just sad, not angry or disappointed, “She didn’t let the war go herself. She went to the other side, holding it in her heart, and brought it back.”

Soarin was right, I had the same thoughts, he was only confirming my theory. However, he wasn’t finished:

“It may appear she does it out of loyalty, that’s what she says at least.” Soarin continued to echo my conclusions. “But in truth… it’s guilt.

“She missed the last year of the Great War, but more importantly she wasn’t there when the coup happened, when the riots were taking place and when all the shit hit the fan years after. She saw so, so many ponies die under her command on the plains of the Frozen North to liberate the Crystal Empire. Now it’s even worse than it was under King Sombra’s rule...”

I felt… bad. I knew Rainbow would never admit that guilt to anypony but herself, but it was eating her from the inside, that I knew as well. Rainbow was desperately trying to make up for the things that transpired in her absence and… she was afraid, deeply fearing letting something like that happen again. In some sense, we weren’t very different, she and I.

Do you love Equestria, Twilight? So do I, with all my heart.

Knowing the ponies, knowing the stakes… I began to understand her. There was no place for a single mistake. She knew the price like nopony else, and she alone stood between Equestria and its doom. Sacrifices had to be made.

“Was that why you left the Crown?” I asked, returning to where this conversation started. “You didn’t want to be at war again?”

“War is for the young, a remedy for wrinkles,” Soarin confirmed with a nod of his massive helmet. “I helped to clean most of the mess and volunteered as a special agent. Not the most exciting or pleasant job, but it is surprisingly better than being on the surface.”

I wasn’t sure I could agree with Soarin on that matter. The Tunnels, especially the Deep ones were much worse than the city. Though I didn’t see it a few centuries back, when it was a literal warzone according to Rainbow’s words.

“Do you regret finding Rainbow?”

“No,” Soarin instantly answered, but paused before continuing, “I can’t leave this armor without dying,” his voice grew wistful, “and sometimes I miss the taste of an apple pie, not gonna lie.” He fell quiet again, his tone changing into something apprehensive, “But if I die then the Wonderbolts will die with me. And I can’t let that happen.”

“Why don’t you train a new team?” I asked, hoping that there still were ponies worthy of such a title.

“There are ponies with the skills, no doubt, but that is not enough,” Soarin retorted. “The Wonderbolts are heroes. Canterlot is no place for them.” He slowed down to turn his head and look me straight in the eyes with a wizened and hard gaze. “It needs ponies like Rainbow Dash, ponies stronger than me.”

At some point during my stay at the Sky Palace, my clock had regained its function, though I wasn’t sure about the correctness of the time it was showing. I had a suspicion that it happened not during the replacement of my body, but after I went to sleep, which was strange.

Anyhow, the passage of time didn’t go uncounted. Since we entered the vast underground of Canterlot, roughly three hours had passed. After concluding our conversation on a grim note, Soarin navigated the darkness of the Deep Tunnels in silence, disturbed only by the occasional chit-chat between the changelings. They were exchanging jokes, verbal jabs, to cheer each other, but judging by their strained voices it wasn’t helping that much.

Silence… It was absolute and oppressing, greedily swallowing any sound and not letting even the tiniest echoes travel back to us.

Wait.

There were sounds before: the claws of the Accursed scraping against the floor, their scales rustling as they slithered in the shadows, the ancient joints squeaking in thirst for oil. But they were gone now. I turned around and saw no signs of them in the blackness. Somehow it didn’t feel like good news.

I had an impression that even Soarin was treading somewhat cautiously now, his helmet always moving, scanning the darkness as he unrelentingly moved forward. Forward… Only now I realized that we hadn't taken a single turn since we entered this level of the Deep Tunnels.

“Hey, Sarge,” Radix called as he suddenly froze, his flashlight pointed at a dark hole in the wall, a crude entrance into a branching passage, “I think I saw something.”

“You think or you saw?” Maestus quipped back, though her flashlight cut into the black maw of the pass just as well, soon joined by a few more, futilely searching for anything worthy of attention.

A bit less than three minutes passed with half of the squad staring intently into the shadows, but nothing happened, they remained still and no sound came.

“Yeah, I thi–”

There was a flash of silver, a movement so fast, it bordered on being invisible. Then Radix’s head rolled to the floor engulfed in jade fire as the illusion winked out. A moment later, his body, just as bright a funeral fire revealing its owner’s true identity, fell on the floor, beginning to flood it with a yellowish-green hemolymph.

“Fuck! Formation!” Maestus barked even before Radix’s corpse hit the stone. “Protect Twilight and Soarin! Prepare the stunning spells!”

“Protect yourselves,” Soarin snapped back, pushing Maestus out of his way only to shield her with his body from the deadly darkness of the side pass. “You need it more than me, he’s here!”

I wanted to comment that Spike wouldn’t harm me, but I was cut off by a thunderous roar coming from all sides at the same time. Nine changelings formed a ring around me, their tight circle bristling with guns and flashlights, the latter bathing the surroundings in light. On the edge of that zone of vision, something – Spike – moved and one of the changelings immediately fired a spell there. It found no target, but I thought I caught a glimpse of metal reflecting the arcane bolt as it cut through the darkness.

The overwhelming silence took reign, so absolute that I could hear the changelings’ nervous shuddering breaths.

“Spike isn’t going to attack,” Soarin quietly said. “He is going to ambush us. Our best bet is to react fast enough when it happens.”

“No offense, but that is one shitty plan, Captain,” Teleta grumbled, earning a snort from Soarin.

“Remember your place, Private,” Maestus chided. “Corcillum, Arcus,” she addressed two of the changelings with artificial horns, “take place with Miss Sparkle, the rest keep the formation. Marmor, you take Radix’s remains. Then all move forward.”

With the orders given, our group began to slowly traverse the endless corridor. I was flanked by two changelings, and this close I could see one of them was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, though holding up. The other couldn’t tear her gaze from Radix’s body dripping ichor every time Marmor took a step.

Minutes felt like hours, every step like a huge leap to a place unknown. Though I knew Spike wouldn’t attack me, I couldn’t help but succumb to the atmosphere of barely controlled panic. I had no doubt that Queen Chrysalis had sent her best on this mission, but no pony nor changeling could be ready to face a dragon, especially one maddened by dark magic and experienced in hunting on these grounds.

A gust of wind touched the detectors on my ceramic body and before I could realize what it could mean, Maestus whispered almost inaudibly, “Get ready, keep moving.”

I took five steps before Spike pounced from the shadows on my right.

A mass of metal rushed at the changelings like a flood in a single graceful attack, speaking of many years of hunting the underground dwellers. The onslaught was just as effective as it was horrifyingly beautiful: Teleta ended up in Spike’s claws, but she wasn’t the only victim. The wide swipe of his tail got at least three changelings, breaking the legs of one of them, judging by the sound of snapping bones and pained gasp following it. The smash was so strong that it brought even Soarin to the floor. Another changeling, Marmor, got plenty of Spike’s claws: they raked his chest barding like it was made of wet paper, leaving deep gashes, making the poor changeling shower the stone floor with his blood.

Stunning spells were fired the moment Spike’s armored muzzle came out of the darkness, but none of them managed to hit him.

Though Spike tried to disappear back into the shadows, his immense momentum carried him forward until his body crashed into a wall, sending chunks of stone flying in all directions. After being momentarily stunned by the impact, he quickly came to his senses, only to realize that he was cornered.

The magic casters, those who had managed to recover from the hit of his tail, began to fire spells at Spike. Though their aim was off, the barrage was enough to prevent him from fleeing.

As Spike was dodging the magic projectiles, his weight shifted and Teleta cried as she was pinned by massive claws digging through her barding.

He jerked forward, his armored arm with the obsidian blades dripping blood shooting toward the changelings’ throats. Maestus and Lamina barely escaped a strike that could easily decapitate them. A fusillade of spells answered that attack, and while most of them found their target, they harmlessly glanced off his steel-clad body. The success of the mission suddenly looked far less possible.

“Murderers!” Spike bellowed in rage, taking me by surprise.

He wasn’t as insane as I thought! Struck by that revelation I almost missed the fact that Spike was taking a very deep breath, meaning only one thing…

“Spike! Don’t!” I yelled before he could incinerate the entire squad.

He instantly snapped his head at the sound of my voice, freezing in place, his enraged emerald eyes going wide with shock. And at that moment he was hit by a stunning spell right into the gap in the armor on his belly.

The changelings with arcanium horns also had some healing spells. They provided first-aid to the wounded, but no magic could fix a broken neck – Ossura fell victim to Spike’s tail hit. In addition to one lifeless body, some changeling had to carry Calamus, a mare with her legs broken. Marmor’s condition remained critical, and he had to be brought to the hospital as soon as possible.

The next task falling on the long-suffering artificial-horn-equipped changelings was to telekinetically carry Spike out of the underground to where the transport was waiting for us. The special crystals allowed them to supplement the spell with their own energy, though not as effectively and precisely as it could be done by unicorn. I was sure that all of them were going to have magic burnout by the end of this mission, since it wasn’t something the changelings were used to casting, but at least they still had their heads attached to their bodies.

Soarin, his armor sporting noticeable dents where it met Spike’s tail, was guiding us out of the Deep Tunnels, grunting as he walked. He assured me that he would be fine and, no, he wasn’t coming to the Sky Palace with us despite my pleas. “The Royal Guard needs only one captain,” he told me.

When we finally emerged from the stairwell with the number seven painted on the opposite wall, he silently left us, returning back into the vilest depths of the city. The remains of the squad took a moment of respite, but none looked relieved – the lifeless and maimed bodies were the reminder of the price paid. With a considerable amount of time passed it was also hard to say how safe and undisturbed our return to the surface would be. Though, I supposed the sight of the ‘Souleater’ bound in thick arcanium chains would make any potential assaulter think twice.

The break was short, and we began to ascend stairs after stairs. With the sixth and seventh levels behind us, it was going to be a bit easier. The equinoids would have been the least open to negotiations of the underground dwellers, they weren’t the easiest to fight and I really didn’t want it to come to that.

The fifth level, however, wasn’t as deserted – we were met with a large throng of zebra. They didn’t move, or pay any attention to us, in fact. Their eyes were glued to the slumbering form of Spike, reverent murmurs filling the tunnel. Other than that strange behaviour, they let us pass without trouble.

The first ‘pony’ level met us with shapes hiding in the shadows, peeking around the corners and skittering in the side passages, but none went out to meet us face to face. I was helping to carry Spike, my telekinesis intermingling with the strange magic of changelings. With few of the casters being in condition (one of them already had burned out as I expected) my help was more than appreciated. Though, I had volunteered even before the need arose. Spike was family to me, after all.

It was on the third level that Spike fell out of our magic grasp, but not because we burned out or decided to take another break. Sharp pain pierced my metal skull and I heard the ceramic plates crack. Judging by the pained shrieks and the sharp sound of the special crystals shattering, it wasn’t happening only to me. There was more: from the adjacent Tunnels, shrill yells echoed.

As the agony abated from my artificial horn and I was able to think clearly again, I began to reconstruct the last five minutes in my head.

Nothing noticeable happened near us and nothing foreboded that incident. It was similar to touching a damaged leyline, but wasn’t the same. It seemed like everyone in the vicinity experienced a magic surge, but it had to be either right next to us or incredibly massive, equal to… I actually had no idea to what I could compare such an outburst of energy. By my estimate it should be enough to wipe out a few dozen city blocks.

“The fuck was that?” Arcus asked, wiping hemolymph from his muzzle.

“It might be an arcanium bomb going of on the other level,” Maestus mused, rubbing her forehead below her horn. Though she wore no artificial horn, the surge still affected her. “Whatever it was, we must get out of here as fast as possible. I don’t want the stunning spell to wear off while we are in the air.”

Her warning served as a good motivation for the changelings and, wincing, they levitated Spike from the floor. One of the arcanium horns popped with a flash like a lightbulb, filling the air with the unpleasant smell of something acrid. It was Corcillum who wore it. Luckily, she was unharmed and soon recovered, though now she had to support us with something other than her magic.

For once, fortune was on our side, and very soon the stairwell leading out of the Tunnels appeared before us. The trap door was already open and the changeling pilot was peeking inside, obviously waiting for us. However, she didn’t smile as we approached, deep concern etched on her face instead.

“Volucris, what is wrong?” Maestus inquired as soon as she was within earshot.

Volucris turned back to look at something out in the city, her jaws working.

“See for yourself,” she answered in a troubled tone, to Maestus’ dissatisfaction, but the Sergeant said nothing. Then the pilot noticed her fallen comrades lying across the back of those who looked like they had walked to Tartarus and back. Her eyes widened and she rushed to us, gingerly removing the dead and carrying them into the hovercraft.

I was the last to leave the Tunnels as I helped to carry out all the equipment and Spike. Whatever was outside, it wasn’t discussed. When the changelings emerged to the surface they were silent for a few moments and then began to loudly talk only for Maestus to uncharacteristically harshly bark at them, giving an order to shut up and hurry.

When I climbed out of the stairwell, I didn’t understand at first what the problem was. Swiveling my head around, I was met with the same dreary scenery, though it was brighter now – it was past noon, apparently. The same old factory, the other dilapidated buildings of the Outer City, the skyscrapers in the distance…

I took a second look at the skyscrapers, my mind knowing what it was seeing, but refusing to accept it as reality.

Dark cliffs chiseled into impregnable walls covered in a buildup of salt, patches of permafrost and glimmering runes. They stood against the fury of the north, the raging sea and serpents for centuries. They held back an army led by the goddess herself. And now they loomed above Canterlot, dropping the occasional tiny piece of rubble to the streets below.

The whole city seemed to freeze in silence as the ancient fortress hovered under the clouds, its dark mass eclipsing what little could be seen of the sun through the leaden curtain around the Thunderspires.

Even from this far I could feel the dull vibration inside my body, but it wasn’t my metal answering – it was my crystals. Whatever made it fly and appear here was brimming with magical energy. I now had an answer for what that magical surge was related to.

A hoof touched my shoulder, carefully shaking me.

“Miss Sparkle, we have to go. We received an order to immediately head back,” Maestus politely said, and then warily added when I didn’t move, “The stunning spell is going to wear off.”

Though I totally understood and shared the Sergeant’s concerns, it took me a few more moments before I was finally able to tear my eyes from the sight of Stalliongrad in the sky.

There were no jokes on the flight back. I suspected the reason for that was not in the bodies in the corner of the hull covered with tarpaulin, nor was it Spike stirring in his forced sleep, making the heavy chains rattle. All the changelings had returned to their original forms, but the expressions on their faces didn’t change, they remained somber and worried. Each of them was deep in thought, studying their hooves and occasionally paying a quick glance to the window, to the dark fortress hanging over Canterlot like a bad omen. The only exception was Teleta, who was holding Marmor in her hooves, pleading with him not to fall asleep, whispering promises of a warm home and Mother’s loving embrace in his ear.

I didn’t need to look through the small window to be reminded of Stalliongrad, I could feel its power echoing inside my body. As much as it had a physical influence on my ‘soul gems’, it also had the full attention of the magic inside as well, in some sense – I couldn’t think of anything else.

Thinking about how millions of tonnes of rock and metal were transported over a thousand kilometers proved an exercise in futility. I was sure it had to be teleportation, since nopony saw it coming, but that only created more questions which didn’t have logical answers.

Neighponia was never part of Equestria, they were descendents of the unicorn tribalists who refused to join the Exodus and went east. Unlike them, Stalliongrad was one of the first cities, its founders refusing to go south, valiantly remaining as far north as they could, to watch for the Windigos. The mighty fortress of Stalliongrad became the Equestrian warden of the Frozen North, fearlessly and stubbornly fighting back cold and anything trying to threaten the ponies of the warmer lands. Their resilience backfired horribly when Nightmare Moon briefly came to power.

Stalliongrad and Whinnypeg were two major cities who pledged their loyalty to the Queen of Nightmares. The latter, another northern city, was subdued pretty quickly, thanks to it being built in the middle of a valley. Stalliongrad, cut into the cliffs in the heart of Luna Bay’s harbor, commanded by an infamous Shadowbolt, Nightingale, managed to withstand a decade of siege led by none other than Princess Celestia herself, earning its independence as a result.

For many a century Stalliongrad remained hidden in the north, with no trade routes leading to it and nopony coming to visit Equestria from the inhospitable frozen hills. However, the rebels never stopped carrying out their duty – no unwanted guests wandered south either. Nothing was heard from the City of the Unbroken until the Great War, when we called for them in desperation and they answered, sending a whole battalion of grim, armor-clad troops.

That all was more than anypony knew back in my time. Many weren’t even aware of Stalliongrad’s existence. But that knowledge wasn’t able to provide me with an answer to the most important question: why was it here?

I continued to wrack my mind, trying to simply come up with any theory and failing, until the hovercraft gently shook, signifying its arrival to the hangar of the Sky Palace. With the limited time and current situation, no additional step of disguising the vehicle was taken, nor did the changelings have any magic left.

The moment the door opened a duo of changelings in medical uniforms rushed in, bolting to Marmor, who had managed to stay awake in the end. A few more medics followed, providing help to the wounded and burnt out. Judging by the bright aura surrounding Spike, he was being taken care of by the changelings or the Twelve in the hangar, who began to slowly levitate him out, careful not to disturb his already fading state of sleep.

“Miss Sparkle,” Maestus called me from my side, “I think you are being waited for.” She pointed at Eleven who was waiting for me outside the hovercraft, impatiently prancing. “We will handle things from here,” Maestus assured me as I worriedly glanced at Spike.

I took a step forward, but felt a tug on one of my plates. Turning back, I saw Maestus looking at me with a strange expression. As I tilted my head in a silent question, she quietly spoke, “Thank you. Without your help it would have been much worse.”

I only confusedly nodded in return, experiencing mixed feelings. I was glad to be of help, and it was pleasant to see Maestus being grateful. But I couldn’t forget that if it wasn’t for me, the mission wouldn’t have taken place at all. I wondered if Maestus and her squad knew about the deal I made with their queen or if they just blindly followed her orders.

The moment I stepped out of the hovercraft, Eleven dashed to my side.

“Mother, they asked for you to come to the council chamber as soon as you arrive,” she hurriedly spoke, taking me under my hoof and practically beginning to drag me out of the hanger.

“Wait, Eleven, who are ‘they’?” I asked, voluntarily taking a brisk pace to reach her demanded speed.

“Oh, Sunset and the queen,” Eleven chirped over her shoulder as she led me through the corridors of the Sky Palace. “The representatives of Stalliongrad sent a transmission, saying that they are coming.”

Though I had the breath to speak as I cantered after Eleven, I barely had an opportunity, since I had to weave my way between crowds of changelings filling the passages.

“Are they already in the palace?” I asked when I finally got a moment.

“Nope, but they will be soon,” Eleven shook her head.

“Then why are we hurrying?” I wondered aloud. “Or are there too few hangars in the Sky Palace?”

Eleven shook her head, and almost planted face-first into the floor, making me catch her with my magic. “They are going to teleport in,” she replied as she was dusting herself off.

“But doesn’t the Sky Palace have protection against that?” I shot another question at her, remembering Rainbow’s explanation on why Luna couldn’t make a jump into the palace.

“That was exactly what we told them.”

“And what was their response?”

Eleven turned to me, and for a moment I thought her expression changed into a worried one. At least her voice was laden with a unhidden concern. “They said they know.”

It didn’t take us long to arrive to the council room, which wasn’t surprising – Eleven had us nearly galloping through the Sky Palace. Good thing I didn’t have lungs, so I didn’t have to stop and catch my breath on the way there.

The spacious chamber wasn’t as crowded as the last time, though all the faces were familiar. Queen Chrysalis was sitting at the head of the table, Sunset whispering in her ear as the elder changeling leaned her head to study the tablet in the Former One’s telekinetic grasp. On her other side, Rainbow stood like a statue, her helmet’s visor down. She wasn’t the only member of the Royal Guard – ten more wearers of the arcanium cybersuits were positioned all over the room. At the opposite side of the table, Luna was quietly conversing with Trixie, the latter looking both excited and more than a bit anxious. After all, her ‘marefriend’ Octavia went to Stalliongrad but didn’t return, and now it was here.

There was a momentary hesitation in my steps as I was deciding on which end of the table I should approach. It would have been the right thing to go to Luna and talk to her. In a sudden insight I realized that in some sense she was the reason for Stalliongrad being the way it was. Also, now that Spike was in the Sky Palace I would need the help of every mage familiar with non-Harmony magic to help his condition, and Trixie was the first candidate, for obvious reasons.

On the other hoof, I had to speak with Queen Chrysalis – she summoned me here and I wasn’t sure why. What I was expected to do? I also needed to inform her that I had held up to my end of the bargain and her children didn’t die for nothing. Saying my condolences seemed to be appropriate as well.

Led by reason, my steps took me to the right, towards the head of the table. I thought that I could feel Luna giving me an intent look through slightly squinted eyes, but when I turned my head to answer it, I saw her deeply engaged in a discussion with Trixie.

“What do you need me here for exactly?” I cut to the chase, addressing the changeling queen. Though I was very curious about Stalliongrad and why it was here (and how), I would rather be with Spike at the moment.

“Well,” Queen Chrysalis chuckled, “You are a bigwig now, like us, since you represent a major part of Canterlot’s population.”

“Except the equinoids don’t know that yet,” I retorted. Declaring myself a goddess was easy, becoming one was another story – I still didn’t have even the vaguest idea how that was going to happen. Half of the time I thought of it, it felt like a huge mistake to make a declaration so bold and ambitious. Nevertheless, I felt strangely proud to be referred to as one of the leaders of Canterlot’s inhabitants. Also anxious – it was a large responsibility I didn’t quite expect, at least not in that political way.

“I was informed that the mission to retrieve Spike went as well as it could,” the queen suddenly changed the topic. There was a very subtle emphasis on the word ‘well’, a sad undertone telling me that she knew about the price paid for its success.

“I’m very thankful to you,” I began, “And I am so sor–”

The thunderous crack of magic split the air, followed by a blinding flash of light.

Another blessing of my mechanical body was my eyes, on which such changes in illumination had little effect, so I was amongst the first to witness the newly arrived. The Royal Guard were also impervious to any blinding occurrences, so dozens of gun barrels, Rainbow’s included, were pointed at the group of ponies standing between the table and the window. With the dark silhouette of Stalliongrad eclipsing the sun, it wasn’t hard to discern them.

They weren’t ponies, not most of them, and those who were belonged to a race thought to be extinct. Two thestrals, a mare and a stallion stood at the front of the small triangle. It made sense for them to be in Stalliongrad and to be representatives or leaders. After Nightmare Moon’s insurgence they had almost disappeared from Equestria, save for a few hidden and rare backwater communities, which resurfaced only when Luna returned from her imprisonment, offering their servitude to the sovereign of the night. With Luna being gone to the Badlands they gradually disappeared, returning to their secluded lives on the very edges of Equestria. Now I had an idea where they all must have gone. I paid a quick glance to Luna, to see her reaction – she appeared to be quite surprised by the sight of bat-winged ponies, once her closest subjects.

On the left of the duo of thestrals, an old donkey stood leaning on a walking stick and scowling. I had a suspicion that it was his usual face, and that made me wonder if all donkeys were born old, wrinkled and perpetually displeased with their surroundings.

The figure on the right was the least equine of the entire delegation, towering over it and probably everyone present in the chamber. She was achieving her dominance in height thanks to her beautiful branching deer horns. There was one community of deer in Equestria to my memory and a few more outside its boundaries. Those reclusive dwellers of forest thickets kept to themselves despite being rumored to be the most magically gifted creatures in the world, their immense power lent to them by their gods.

Behind the guests from Stalliongrad, whom I wanted to believe had peaceful intentions, stood a few armor-clad figures of unknown race, making me doubt my hopes. The Stalliongrad military had always had a preference for heavy armor, and those soldiers were no exception, covered in thick plating from hooves to ears, sporting the trademark spikes on their helmets, pickelhaubes. Considering that their base was currently suspended in the sky above Canterlot, I expected that armor not to be simply for protection, the glow of crystals betraying if not cybernetics, at least enchantments. One of them even had their armor glow at every seam and gap.

One of the thestrals, a mare wearing a military-looking uniform, took a step forward, making the Royal Guard tense and aim their vast arsenal at her.

“Speaking on behalf of the Stalliongrad Technocracy, we greet you,” she declared clearly with a slight accent and deeply bowed. Her company followed her example, except for the donkey who only nodded his head.

Queen Chrysalis got from her place at the table to walk around it so she would be facing the delegation, Sunset following at her side.

“The Crown greets you in return.” The elder changeling respectfully, but not too deeply, bowed her head. “It is quite unexpected to receive a visit from the fabled city of Stalliongrad,” she added. Though her words sounded neutral and polite, they implied a question and a hint of apprehension, probably referring both to Stalliongrad currently hanging over Canterlot and to the delegates coming without invitation and without regard for the palace defenses.

“We came to help,” the thestral mare replied, the shadow of a barely withheld grimace passing over her face.

It took Queen Chrysalis by surprise as it did me, her brows shooting up.

“And what did we do to deserve such an honor?” the changeling queen echoed my exact thoughts. “Stalliongrad hasn’t contacted Equestria since the Great War.”

“It is part of a deal, and Stalliongrad is always loyal to its word,” the batpony calmly commented, though it was apparent she wasn’t overly happy with that.

In a slightly irritated tone Queen Chrysalis said, “I don’t remember making any deals with Stalliongrad.” Then, looking at Sunset, “Do you?”

Sunset answered by shaking her head, but I couldn’t miss noticing that her eyes were glued to one of the soldiers accompanying the delegation, the guard with glowing gray armor. As if on cue, that armorclad figure stepped forward, taking her place by the thestral representative. Then they removed their black helmet, revealing the semi-translucent head of an earth pony mare, a magic spectre softly glowing with mulberry light, a defiant expression etched on her ghastly features.

From behind me I heard a strangled gasp coming from Trixie. “Tavi!” It made me stare at the spectral mare in shock.

Trixie briefly mentioned Octavia when I was inquiring about the Former Ones, but I had heard about her much, much earlier, when Scuff Gear was convincing me to embark on the journey to Stalliongrad. He told me about a Former One, Trixie’s friend, who had already gone there. And Trixie told me that Octavia wasn’t in Canterlot.

Well, she was now.

“It was me who made the deal,” Octavia said, her voice sounding surprisingly normal for an arcane apparition, save for the accent, though different from that of the thestral mare. “I helped Stalliongrad to be evacuated. An eye for an eye.”

“I don’t remember letting a Former One speak on behalf of Canterlot either,” Queen Chrysalis commented in a displeased tone, squinting at Octavia.

“I don’t need permission from a false queen to speak for those who are in need,” Octavia snapped back and gave the changeling a disdainful glare.

It was obvious Queen Chrysalis was quite angry with both the lack of respect she was receiving and the fact that somepony was making major decisions under her nose, but before she could direct her wrath at Octavia, the batpony stallion came closer and spoke, “We are willing to lend a helping hoof to Canterlot to the extent of our capabilities, not more. But there are conditions.”

Queen Chrysalis glared at him and then averted her eyes, looking at the window with an indecisive expression. From her side, Sunset very quietly, almost imperceptibly whispered, “We desperately need any help.”

“Fine,” the queen finally said with a deep sigh, calming herself. Grouchily, she added, giving an apprehensive, sidelong glance to Octavia, “What are the conditions? I thought it was an ‘eye for an eye’ deal, no strings attached.”

“I only pointed out the stash with the old subway crystals, the rest was done by the mages and engineers,” Octavia replied, noting that her help wasn’t equal to the amount of help offered to Canterlot.

The subway crystals? I had to considerably strain my mind to remember what was so special about them. Tin Flower mentioned those power cores missing from the system of underground trains destroyed by the Pink Butterflies. “Some of the biggest around,” she told me… That could explain how Stalliongrad took to the air.

“The first thing,” the donkey croaked, pointing his carved walking cane at the changeling queen to her dissatisfaction, “you disband that Crown of yours. The ponies of Stalliongrad refuse to help their kin until they are free.”

Apparently, the old donkey spoke for the pony population of Stalliongrad, who didn’t have a representative present (thestrals notwithstanding). Remembering how the council ended I couldn’t help but wonder if Queen Chrysalis would agree. I wasn’t sure if I would. It wasn’t hard to guess Stalliongrad’s aim, it was quite obvious: to take control of Canterlot’s population, since the Crown disbanding would leave them in need of government. Thinking of that… maybe it wasn’t a bad idea. After all, Stalliongrad didn’t have a facility growing ponies for slaughter. And the Stalliongrad Technocracy didn’t look to consist of mainly ponies, which wasn’t so different from Queen Chrysalis’ plan anyway.

“And what will happen to the Swarm?” the obvious question came from its queen, who wasn’t likely to even be alive by the time it would matter, but still deeply cared.

“Whatever you want,” the donkey snorted. “Besides you constantly trying to send your spies to Stalliongrad we have no problem with the Swarm. The ponies don’t want you in power, that is all, your presence is fine as long as you are not up to any of your usual shenanigans.”

It was like seeing a sunrise, as Queen Chrysalis’ face brightened at the prospect of her children still allowed to be evacuated together with the main population of Canterlot. In essence, not that much of the plan had changed. I doubted any of the council members were the biggest fans of changeling rule anyway. She even tried to joke, “I just did what I always do, my spies are my eyes.”

“The second and last condition,” the thestral mare spoke, the stallion joining her side for them both to take a couple of steps past Chrysalis, “Princess Luna is to relinquish any claims to power, for indefinite duration.”

“What?” Luna’s response came quietly as she was taken by surprise and was yet to regain her senses. However, she sounded as offended as she could be. In a more loud, but no less indignant voice she continued, “It is my birthright as a Princess!

“I created your kind, gave you my blessing,” she snarled, extending her wings and menacingly approaching the thestral duo who stood unflinchingly, “and this is how you repay me? By taking away the only right I have left!?”

I barely paid attention to her words as I saw Rainbow taking aim at Luna – she was going to kill her just as she promised me. I prepared to rush in front of Luna, for I had no way to stop Rainbow magically, but I could buy Luna some time by taking a shot, which I might even survive if I was lucky. However, I was stopped by a glow of green magic, matching that of the queen’s horn. The same verdant light surrounded Rainbow and deactivated her armor.

Oblivious to the prevented carnage, the thestal mare spoke, her voice level, but hard, “The night is your only birthright, not the throne. The thestrals didn’t forget your blessing, nor did we forget the curse you put on us by becoming Nightmare Moon.”

Luna flinched back, hard. That dark time of her life happened a long time ago, but the reminder of it hurt no less. Nightmare Moon had forever tarnished the thestrals’ reputation, making them monsters and traitors in the eyes of many ponies, often bringing death upon them.

A few moments of uneasy silence passed, and the batpony stallion asked, “So, do you agree or we are free to leave?”

The representatives didn’t try to hide that they weren’t eager to help Canterlot. Stalliongrad had been independent and solitary for fifteen centuries and wished to remain so, but they also had honor they refused to tarnish. They refused to be known as betrayers.

The decision Luna had to make was difficult, but only for her. I was sure everyone in this room would agree that putting ambition against the lives of thousands wasn’t really a choice to consider. Still, she had to give up on most of what she was, abandoning all hope of redeeming her mistakes and avenging her sister’s death.

Hanging her head down, she very quietly spoke, “Yes. I abdicate my claim to the throne.”

With that she turned sharply and stormed out of the chamber.

It felt like she needed my help right now, but I couldn’t just leave the meeting. Or could I? I looked at Queen Chrysalis in a silent question and she gave me a brief nod, so wasting no time I bolted out of the room while the trail was still hot.

Finding where Luna went wasn’t so hard. She left quite an impression on the changelings in her wake, their heads with bewildered expressions poking out of the doors in the passages she passed through. Occasional cracked floor tiles were good pointers as well.

The path led me higher and higher until I ended up before a door swinging in the wind, leading to someplace outside. Pushing it, I emerged onto an open platform with absolutely nothing above it. I was at the highest point of the Sky Palace. The highest point of Canterlot.

This high, there were no clouds, so I could see the sun – it was setting, bathing everything in orange and pink hues. In the darkening sky above, the first stars began to appear, the boldest and brightest. Soon the moon was to join them.

Carefully and slowly I approached the parapet, the wind whistling between my ceramic plates, effortlessly pushing and pulling at my body, though I was sure I had to be heavier than the average pony.

The city below, seen through the gaps of clouds, was a glowing carpet of all possible colors. From this far it didn’t look so bad, even beautiful. Well, until my gaze wandered to the Edge and the poisoned lands beyond it, both appearing as circles of gangrenous flesh growing around the tumor Canterlot was.

I could even gaze into Stalliongrad, to see what its impenetrable walls were hiding. Inside it was a densely packed settlement, uniform houses stacked on each other in a neat formation of street webwork. That looked like a city of the future, not like the nightmare it hovered above.

However, I didn’t come here to wonder at the view, no matter how breathtaking it was.

The massive form of an alicorn was hunched at the railing opposite the entrance to the roof, Luna’s hooves hanging over the rails as she gazed at the setting sun.

“Luna?” I called her over the wind as I approached closer, but not too close, only enough for her to hear me.

“I wish you hadn’t come here, it is already as humiliating as it can be,” she bitterly and clearly replied, the wind around us dying as she began to speak.

I took it as a sign that she was willing to talk, even if she was not so eager to. I took a place at her side, but refrained from hooking my hooves on the railing as she did, instead just sitting down.

We both watched the sunset for some time. I was patiently waiting for Luna to speak, and after a while she did:

“I’m not going to turn into Nightmare Moon, I am not as asinine as Rainbow Dash claims me to be,” she said, her tone insulted. Then she added, her voice gaining a venomous tone to it, “Or you, for that matter.”

“Wha…?” I gaped at her. I could understand where Luna’s accusation regarding Rainbow could come from, she must have seen Dash almost ready to kill her at the council room. But I had no idea how I deserved that. “I never said your were!”

“You didn’t disagree with Rainbow, however,” Luna retorted, her poisonous intonation not changing. “She needs our help right now, like she did when she came back as Nightmare Moon,” she spoke in a mocking imitation of my voice… quoting my exact words.

“You…” The realization hit me as I remembered when I said them. “You heard us…”

“Of course I did,” Luna indinitantly snorted, “Rainbow tries to hide her hatred towards me, but I have seen enough of it directed at me in my long life to see hers with half an eye. And you both were really loud – just because I am old doesn’t mean I’m deaf.”

I was at a loss for words. Though technically I was defending Luna in that conversation, ultimately I agreed with Rainbow Dash.

“Unfortunately, she was right about something, as well as those thestrals,” Luna said, her voice losing all anger and hostility, leaving only exhaustion behind, “I… I am not a Princess.

“Nopony chooses their cutie mark, just like no pony can choose to be born a pegasus, unicorn or earth pony. It worked no different for me and my sister, we were destined to become who we are by Harmony, except… we weren’t destined to be Princesses, it seems.” Luna’s words were quiet and melancholic, her eyes still fixated on the orange sun in the distance, not leaving it even for a moment since the conversation had begun.

“I had always looked up to her, as any younger sister would, and it broke my heart every time I saw that I’m unable to follow in her steps.” Her voice shook momentarily. “Time after time I wanted to be like Celestia, a beloved goddess, thinking that I was failing to not just be like her, but to be who I was supposed to be. But now I understand: she wasn’t born a Princess and neither was I. Not every wish can be fulfilled, dreams never become reality, that I know well. Too bad I failed to see this one as it was; ironic, isn’t it? Our cutie marks make us mistresses of the heavens, not ponies. We were never meant to be goddesses.”

Luna fell silent and I remained so.

She was right, wasn’t she? Their cutie marks never implied any power other than that over the sun and moon. The ponies made them, Princess Celestia in particular, goddesses. It was a concept hard to comprehend after living a whole life (my previous life, that is) if not worshipping, revering the Princesses. It was making me think about what it actually meant to be a goddess, a title I wished to claim for myself.

I felt Luna looking at me intently, and for some time already. I met her eyes, but failed to read her expression, it was… strange, almost hostile.

“Nor are you, Twilight,” Luna stated, her voice cold and it took me a moment to understand what she was talking about. I froze in place.

“But I’m not going to stop you, however,” she continued, her voice thawing considerably. “I mean no offense, I respect you greatly and my sister wouldn’t have chosen you as her protege if you weren’t the best, but… You are not going to become a goddess, the only actual reason for Harmony to exist is to prevent that. And since it was created, a long time ago, mind you, not a single god was born, though so many tried.”

I frowned, or tried, to no effect – I still had no ‘face’. I couldn’t deny the truth behind Luna’s words: there were no new gods, and the ‘old’ ones were more of a legend than something real, at least for all I knew.

“But what about the equinoids?” I retorted. “It’s not about godhood, it’s about care.”

“Those arcane golems?” Luna scoffed with a bitter laugh, making me bristle. She was talking about my children. Shaking her head and looking at me in a condescending manner, she added, “Please, Twilight, they are what they are, nothing more.”

“How can you say that?” I asked, barely preventing myself from snapping at Luna. She was the last pony I expected to show such disregard for life, artificial or not.

“Every creature, every living being, even timberwolves, have dreams, but not your machines,” Luna dismissed my query in an almost scolding tone. Then, as if reminded of something, she squinted at me, “Speaking of which, Twilight, for some reason you have no dreams either…”

I tried to blink, since I was sure I had some and more than once. The nature of that accusation made me uncomfortable as well: Luna was implying that I was just another of ‘those arcane golems’.

Before I could come up with an answer (I had no idea what to answer to that, frankly), I heard a voice from behind us, making me turn my head back, Luna’s words forgotten.

“Those who don’t dream can’t have nightmares,” Sunset loudly said, standing at the doorway, leaning on it. I suspected she could have been standing there for quite a while. “That was what one of my friends used to say.”

I wasn’t sure if this was supposed to be a private conversation, nor was I sure if I should have called Sunset out on that. Most likely, Queen Chrysalis had sent her here, and I could understand her concerns. If anything, I was thankful to Sunset, she had arrived (or spoken?) at the most right time.

Luna herself remained silent, turning away from Sunset with a pained expression, the same as she had when she first recognized her former spy. A minute of awkward silence passed, nopony daring to speak, until Sunset broke the quiet again:

“No one is holding you here Luna, you are free to go,” she said in a tone implying that a certain somepony would be very glad to see that happen, especially if it happened right at that moment.

In all honesty, I half-expected Luna to extend her wings and fly off into the sunset. She didn’t have any major reason to stay here anymore.

However, she didn’t. Instead, she grimaced, overcoming herself and spoke, “I’m sorry, Sunset Shimmer, I can understand why yo–”

“Spare me, I don’t care,” Sunset rudely cut her off. Though I didn’t appreciate the way Sunset treated Luna, I could understand her and I wasn’t likely to change her demeanor. “Either go away or return to the palace. This place has glamour, but I don’t want to try our luck and see if Noxiae has found a way to peer through it.” She shot me a stern look. “That applies to both of you.”

Her head hanging down and eyes pointed anywhere but at Sunset, Luna dragged herself to the door across the platform. Suddenly, as she reached the door, Sunset stood in her way, making the alicorn shoot her a startled look. Surprisingly, Sunset looked at me rather than Luna, but when she started to speak, she was addressing the midnight alicorn.

“Since you are staying and we are soon going to abandon Canterlot, there is something I need you to do... Luna,” Sunset’s voice and expression softened. “Not for my sake or my respect for you, but out of respect for your sister.”

Author's Notes:
The finish line is in sight, though it might be not exactly what you expected. After all, the events of this chapter were nearly impossible to predict, though the hints were there all along. The same can be applied to the finale.
There are two chapters left (and short epilogue). However, they are long, considerably longer than 'usual', even longer than chapter 13. Sitting on 23k words each they may take longer time to be edited, which can lead to them posted later than three weeks.
Just have patience, they are coming.
Aftersound Project Discord server - it's a little community dedicated to discussion of the story and whatnot. Everyone is welcome to join.
Pony Tales, a quite welcoming place dedicated to disscussing and working on many great stories (now including Aftersound). I think you may also find it interesting.
If you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know.
I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.
Stay awesome.

Chapter 20 – Assumption

Aftersound

=================================

Written by:

Flutterfinar & Geka

Preread and edited by:

Cover art done by:

=================================

Assumption

====================

Half a dozen holographic screens shone at me in the darkness of Moondancer’s quarters. After leaving the Sky Palace’s peak, I didn’t have much choice but to head back to the Twelve’s workshop.

The meeting with the Stalliongrad delegates was practically over by the time I left it to go after Luna. The deer representative didn’t have any conditions, at least none she was ready to mention. The mystical and beautiful doe remained silent the whole time, yet watching every creature intently, even her allies. So, the rest of the conference was some formalities and the planning of meeting again to discuss the technicalities of the help Stalliongrad was going to provide. According to Sunset’s words, evacuating hospitals or the weak and helpless would most likely be Stalliongrad’s duty during the evacuation.

Spike was sedated and transferred into a special medical center, where he was being treated right now, but it would take some time before Sunset, Trixie or even Queen Chrysalis (who volunteered to take a look, but gave no promises) attempted to deal with the curse ravaging his mind. It was very late in the evening, so any visits to the infirmary were out of the question, and I didn’t want to bother Delight before she made up her mind. The same applied to looking for Tin Flower; she was likely to be asleep by then (she should be, at least).

Therefore, with no urgent tasks or meetings at hoof, I had very little to do. In fact, I was finally facing the only thing I had yet to approach, ironically the biggest task I ever had in my two lives: finding a way to become the Machine Goddess.

The first thing I did was make a plan (with a checklist). That was no easy task by itself, since I needed to define my goal, to understand what I was aiming for in concrete terms.

‘How does one become a god?’ was a good question to start with, but not the most correct one.

‘What is a god?’

By definition it means an entity of great knowledge and power, surpassing any mortal in that regard by a huge margin. Sadly, I had to admit that my understanding of that concept was more than a bit subjective. I always thought the Princesses to be equal to goddesses, but the death of one and the recent words of the other made me reevaluate my perspective on that matter. I barely knew anything about those who were called gods by the other nations, save for vague legends, and that obviously wasn’t something to build my plan on.

It seemed that I had to become an immortal being, more powerful than Princesses Celestia and Luna. That was a goal I had no idea whatsoever how to achieve, especially after the latter’s words, warning me that even if I wanted, Harmony would prevent me from getting that much magic. I knew that before, but Luna specifying that it was the main reason for everypony's limited magic output discouraged me greatly.

Worse, I didn’t even know where to start. Transcending mortality… Huh. I had actually already done that in some sense, maybe it was a starting point. But before starting to work on that idea, I also had to learn something I needed to know anyway. I wasn’t going to become just any goddess, but the one who was supposed to bring the Unity to equinoids. That meant upgrading their code to the Prime version of it, but to do that I had to study everything from the very beginning.

The only way to get any knowledge regarding the Prime Code was to look directly into the enchantments comprising the Twelve’s minds, their little Unity. Before doing something like that, I needed to know the basics, or preferably even more. That was why I was surrounded by translucent monitors, each of them showing some pieces of AI enchantments with the corresponding notes. Interestingly, most of them were documents stolen from the TCE labs and facilities by Swarm spies.

The information was segmentary due to the way it was obtained. There wasn’t a big tutorial, ‘Arcane AI Code for Dummies’. But I wasn’t new to the world of magic theory, and it was the other ‘me’ who created the code. After a whole night of diligent research I was sure I knew everything I needed to delve into the finer details, to the point that I had already come up with a few ideas on how to improve the existing enchantments.

There were a few bits of information I found quite surprising, and it was about that key difference between the Prime Code and the simplified AI. The equinoids with Prime Code relied on a nexus, in ideal conditions, a consciousness managing the streams of data within the network. Non-prime equinoids obviously didn’t, but their code wasn’t optimized to be independent. They needed something to stabilize their artificial minds, or they would fall apart without that ‘anchor’. Artificial memories served as that quasi-nexus.

I remembered Red Wire mentioning something like that, basic information about the world I was supposed to possess as an equinoid. But there was more than that – it was a fabricated fragment of life, as if an equinoid lived for a while before they were turned on for the first time. It also prevented any mental breakdowns after the scheduled wiping of the crystals, a procedure any equinoid had to undergo to avoid becoming too aware of their existence and also to prevent the accumulation of magic, something the TCE tried to avoid like the plague.

Though that knowledge wasn’t going to have much use for me (since I was planning to remove that dependence on false memories, which could become a problem when upgrading their code), I somehow couldn’t shake the feeling that it was important.

With all the notes being read at least once, I was left with only analyzing the received information and extrapolating. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t be doing that, because I heard a hoof rapping at the door of the room. It took me a moment to realize what was strange about it. The Twelve would just call me, and the knock didn't sound like ceramic tapping against metal, the reason why my children used their voices instead.

“Come on in,” I called, turning to the door to meet an unexpected guest.

To my surprise a changeling peeked in, and not just any – it was Teleta. Her eyes widened in an avid interest as she saw the room’s contents, but she was quick to cull her curiosity and focus on the reason for her visit.

“Good morning,” Teleta greeted me with a small nod. “Clandestine Delight asked for you.”

I glanced at the glowing screens behind me. There wasn’t anything else I could learn from them anyway, nor did I want to make my friend wait.

“Could you lead me to her, please?”

Though Teleta was unharmed, save for a few bruises, she still stayed at the infirmary. Not for herself, but for Marmor, who was brought there in a hurry – it was a long way to the Hive’s hospital, and he was on death's door already. Delight, who wasn’t confined to her bed, eventually met Teleta and Marmor, thus learning about my return, and asked me to come. Nothing in Teleta’s story betrayed Del’s intentions. As much as it could be her worry for me after the risky foray into Canterlot’s most vile depths, it also could be to tell me her decision regarding Queen Chrysalis’ request.

When we reached the small hospital, Teleta bolted to the door next to Delight’s. The reason for her sprint was the nurse, who began to chide Teleta for violating the infirmary's visiting hours and denying the patient his much-needed rest. However, the overcaring changeling wasn’t kicked out, instead disappearing into Marmor’s room, leaving me before the entrance leading to the unknown.

I lightly tapped the door, glad of it being made from plastic.

“It is open,” Del’s voice came from the inside. I didn’t need to have her skills to hear the nervousness in her voice. I guessed she didn’t call me to ask about Spike, or leastwise, it wouldn’t be the only topic.

I let out a deep sigh and then entered her room.

Unsurprisingly, it hadn’t changed since the last time I visited. Delight was even in the same place, on her bed, leaning on the window with her healthy side and melancholically gazing into the hollow of the Sky Palace. It was filled with the reflected rays of dawn, full of changelings on the way to their jobs. I noted a few more things: a tray with untouched food and how the bedsheets were crumpled into a pegasus-sized improvised bird nest around Del.

Though I knew Delight was aware of my presence, she was showing no signs of that and no intention to speak first, leaving it to me.

“Del?” I carefully called after the silence stretched for too long.

Without turning from the window, still leaning on it, she asked me, so quietly I barely made out her words, “Would you hate me?”

“Huh?” I thought I misheard her.

“Would you hate me if I were to say ‘yes’?” Del asked again in a just as hollow, but slightly louder voice.

In all honesty, with all that was happening in my life recently I barely had any time to stop and think for more than one more step forward. Thus, I wasn’t really sure what I was supposed to think in the case of any choice Delight made.

“Why would I?” I asked, dumbfounded. Considering that I had given an equal chance for Delight either to accept or reject the offer, I shouldn’t be surprised that she apparently chose the former, but I was still taken aback a bit. Yet, I added, “I will support your decision no matter what you choose.” It wasn’t a lie.

“You hate the changelings and their queen,” Del whispered, then finally turned to me, her face full of sadness and voice bitter, “I know what she did. She told me.”

Grimacing in discontent was my instant reaction to the news. Delight talking with Queen Chrysalis wasn’t something I wanted to happen, since I was sure it skewed the objectivity of Del’s decision. Though, it was a question of how much the current queen revealed to Delight. So far, the conversation seemed to have a bit of a strange tone; either it was related to something other than the consequences of Del’s choice for the Swarm, or I didn't understand something.

“Children bear not the sins of their parents,” I cited Luna’s words, objecting to Delight’s point. “They are not the same changelings who invaded Canterlot.” On the inside I couldn’t help but cringe. I was lying through my teeth: my first visit to the infirmary was still fresh in my mind. I judged others by my worst assumptions, but myself by my best intentions.

“As for Queen Chrysalis…” I trailed off as I moved to the second part of Del’s claim. “I will never forgive her,” I admitted, ”but I don’t hate her either. It’s... complicated.”

I struggled to call her a villain, nor could I call her a hero, obviously. Who was she in my eyes? A murderer, though not by will; an invader and the savior of my nation; a ruler under a false face and a loving mother. She was changing every time I tried to define her. She was who she was – the queen of changelings, a master of transformation. However, Queen Chrysalis was about to die, and it would happen soon. Whatever I thought of her wouldn’t change anything.

Being a bit lost in my thoughts I barely noticed Delight looking at me intently, strangely, with an expression that I could only describe as dolesome gratitude.

“Then you won’t hate me if I say that they are very much like you.”

“What do you mean?” I tilted my head, trying to wrap my mind around her comparison. Whatever idea I had, I was somehow sure it had nothing to do with what Del meant.

“It is about what you told me the last time you visited. I’m a pony to you, not just a mare for a night,” Del smiled sadly.

I could only blink at that. It was… obvious? I did find her previous occupation a bit strange; that profession in general wasn’t something I was used to. But save for those uncanny psychology tricks Del used from time to time, it never mattered to me.

“Every single one of my clients, even the most gallant, polite and kind ones would just leave me without a word when they run out of time. I stopped existing for them that moment,” Delight muttered bitterly, almost venomously. “Even Flower and Wire look at me and see a Moth – ‘one of those ponies’. Not only that, of course, but it still stings.”

With that Del turned away from me for a moment, and I could see that she was fighting back a scowl and, perhaps, tears. When she turned back to me, her face was serene, less sad even, bearing the same grateful and respectful expression.

“Neither for you nor for changelings does my profession define me. You like me for who I am, not for what I am,” Delight stated clearly and resolutely, then smiled again, but without a single hint of sadness this time. “That was why I don’t want to lose you as my friend.”

I stared at her with a newfound respect. I thought that Del would accept the offer because of her ambition to be a pony greater than she ever was; or even to become a mother, a chance she lost when she became a Moth and now regretted. But in the end it was about love and friendship. The love she never got as a Moth, and the friendship she didn’t want to lose in the exchange for it.

Bowing my head slightly, but still noticeably, I said, “I am honored to hear that, Delight.” I didn’t deserve a friend like this.

My answer took Delight by surprise, but she quickly recovered and with a smirk commented, “I am not queen yet.”

‘That wasn’t what I meant,’ I wanted to say, but I stumbled on my words and instead I snorted a laugh. Of course, Del wasn’t serious and she readily answered me with a giggle of her own. Our mild amusement grew into a hearty laugh, effectively relieving the tension in the room and dissolving the worries that had been festering in our minds for days.

I was glad for Delight, she was going to have a second chance to her life, stolen from her by Canterlot. She deserved that much. I was even happy for the changelings. Whether Queen Chrysalis was a good or a bad ruler for her children wasn’t for me to answer (though I suspected she was good, with the risks she had taken and the things she had achieved). Nevertheless, I was sure Delight was going to be a great queen. She had kindness in her, resting on a hard backbone which could turn into righteous fury. Hardship was familiar to her, letting her see things from the perspective of ordinary citizens... and those who were shunned. Smart and optimistic, she was nearly perfect for that job.

Speaking of which, “When are you going to be crowned?” I wondered if Del was aware that it was going to be a magic ritual, not a usual coronation ceremony.

“In a week,” she replied, still widely beaming, “Will you come?”

“Of course,” I promised, mirroring her bright smile.

I left the infirmary with a skip in my step this time, though not everything was perfect. Delight was happy, and I was happy for her. She was a bit worried, of course; becoming a changeling queen meant a huge responsibility and a lot to learn, but she was looking forward to it. She wasn’t going to be doing it alone either – the changelings wouldn’t leave her hanging and Sunset also knew a lot about running a Hive. And if everything went as I planned, I would be by her side as well.

The not so bright news was that I had no chance to talk with Flower. Her condition didn’t demand medical attention anymore (or at all, if I understood correctly), so she had no reason to stay at the infirmary. She was somewhere in the Sky Palace, guided by her sheer curiosity and ability to somehow get to the places where she wasn’t supposed to be. That meant if I wanted to talk with her, I had to dedicate some time to locating her first, and right this moment it wasn’t the top priority on my list. I had to think about what I had to say to her, which wouldn’t be just an apology – she needed an answer, which I wasn’t ready to give yet. I needed some time to think, but currently my mind was full of arcane writings.

Having made that trip twice, I managed to return to the Twelve’s workshop on my own (though I did have to backtrack a couple of times after taking a wrong turn). With my night’s research still fresh in my mind I wanted to ‘strike while the iron was hot’.

The problem was that mastering the code, Prime or not, wasn’t really that important unless I became immortal, omnipotent and so on. I had the option to follow Princess Celestia’s steps and assume my role by sheer charisma and skill (both of which I lacked), half-tricking the equinoids by bringing them into the Unity while remaining the same pony-equinoid I was. Even if they weren't indestructible, the crystals had shown in practice that they could last for centuries. But, although it was very unpleasant to admit, following those steps would bring everything to the same end.

Thus, I had to focus on doing the impossible rather than the doable. The only reason I wanted to return to studying the code was the possibility that it held the answer I was looking for. I had no concrete ideas at the moment, save for my recent revelation about transcending mortality.

Returning to the remains of the Royal Palace would be my first step. If there was a way to trick Harmony, it would be at the restricted section of the Royal Archives.

That was a sound plan.

It all went out of control, though I was to blame.

When I asked the Twelve for help with the AI enchantments, very soon it became crystal clear that one night worth of reading notes on one of the most complex arcane practices to date wasn’t even close to enough for me to truly understand that topic.

For five days and nights (with rare breaks taken when my mind became too jumbled) I studied the non-Prime AI, using as an example none other than Archivarius himself. He survived my ‘explosion’ at the Archives, but the EMP grenades used by the TCE police fried the connections between his memory crystals as well as a few of the crystals themselves. I learned the reason why they didn’t work on me back then: my memory crystals were solid-body, as opposed to the usual microcrystal clusters (made of the Crystal Ponies’ cell tissue), and those grenades were supposed to temporarily disrupt the connections between the tiny crystals. Often, that anti-equinoid weapon happened to be overcharged, causing more damage than it should, as ended up being the case with Archivarius.

He wasn’t dead, per se, but bringing him back to consciousness would require a lot of work and time that nopony and no equinoid had at the moment. Not to mention he wasn’t really needed with the Archives being half-destroyed.

Using a special device, an arcanium stand in essence, I was able to project the enchantments of his crystals into the air around me like holograms and study them. Unfortunately, even the considerable and quite unplanned amount of time I spent doing my research wasn't enough – coding was a science in itself, requiring more than just a week of hard studying to fully master it. However, the advances I made were enough for me to move on to the Prime Code, which I had been learning for the last twenty-eight hours straight, thanks to Seven’s help.

I was sitting, staring at the barely comprehensible lines of arcane runes intertwined with themselves, resembling a plate of spaghetti. Unlike Archivarius’ AI studied through and through by the Twelve, modified and left with countless notes after he was ‘appropriated’ from the TCE, the Prime Code put by Moondancer into our children had not a single annotation. I was pretty sure that I would have left notes when I was creating the enchantments, but Moonie wasn’t like that. The RCRC was a mess mostly thanks to her; she never put things back where she got them, among many other infuriating habits.

Another problem was with the ‘language’. The Prime Code was close to traditional magic, with intricate and ornate runes, the lines of them folded into spools like yarn; all that addlement crammed into nonuniform gemstones. The non-Prime AI resembled a mathematical table, the runes turned into numbers and formulas, divided into segments and distributed evenly among the microcrystals, each of them a copy of another.

It wasn’t hard to guess which would be easier to work with.

Seven, even with the plates on her head and body moved aside to reveal the crystals and connect them to the arcanium stand, was still able to fully function and comment, answering my questions when I was brought to my wit’s end, but not always – some things remained secret even to her.

Right now I was trying to understand what that huge chunk of data with only a few enchantments was doing in the code, especially as part of a shared network, rather than a feature of an individual. It wasn’t even active. Seven had no idea what it was, but saw no harm in trying to find out its function, so I ran the program.

For a few moments nothing happened, and I almost decided to move on to the next part of Seven’s consciousness, but then her eyes flared up, momentarily blinding me. When I regained my sight, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

In front of me was Moondancer.

“Good to see you again, Twi,” she spoke in a raspy voice, matching her appearance – she was far from young.

Clad in a dirty lab coat, with her muzzle and hooves covered in machine grease, which was also clearly present in her mess of a mane made into a practical (but silly even by my standards) bun. Thick glasses held together by at least three types of tape were perched on the tip of her nose, and she was peering at me above them with a crooked and cryptic smile. Her figure flickered, and only now did I notice the soft glow of magic.

“Moonie!” I cried and rushed out of the stand, almost tripping on the wires and cables strewn all over the floor. “I… Are you…”

I didn’t know what to say, what to think. Was she like me, memories put into a machine only to have another shot at life? Or was she just a recorded message? The latter seemed to be more possible, considering her nonplussed reaction.

Seeing my confusion (or not, if she was a recording), she spoke:

“If you see me, then it means you made it back and I, well…” Moonie shrugged and let out a sigh. “The first thing I want to tell you is that I truly regret how it all turned out.” She glanced away guiltily, thick sadness permeating her voice as she continued, “I know things weren’t so peachy between us as of late, but I still did everything I could for you to return to a world where you are remembered for your achievements, rather than mistakes.”

“Are you talking about the Transference Paradox?” I asked, not sure if I was going to receive an answer. I was also wondering what she meant by ‘not so peachy between us’. Our interactions didn’t sound so bad in the last recording we made together, though it could have been too short, or something happened after it.

“Yes, among other things,” Moondancer answered to both my relief and surprise. I was right about it being more than just the Transference Paradox.

Following her confirmation, I was quick to inquire, “What other things?”

However, her reply wasn’t what I expected. “I’m sorry, my responses are limited, you must ask the right questions.”

It was said in a deeply apologetic tone, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was also a half-condescending, half-mischievous very subtle hint, as if it was a riddle rather than an answer.

So, it was a hologram with a rudimentary AI allowing Moonie to converse with me in a very limited manner. It made sense, in fact. I wasn’t sure if the program recognized my magic or if it was recorded only for me, but either way, the information it possessed wasn’t supposed to be acquired easily. Moondancer’s partial memory was a safeguard, a lock.

Armed with that conclusion, I began to think. Moonie wasn’t here for an idle chat, but she did want to tell me something. The question was: what?

She told me about being remembered for my achievements, but it had little to do with the Transference Paradox. Not my mistakes… I failed to move on, I was involved in creating the TCE, I gave away the equinoid enchantments… The first was too personal. The second was too early for her to know; the TCE hadn’t turned the Crystal Empire into a slaughterhouse yet, and barely anypony knew about it. So it had to be connected with equinoids. I wondered if we had a conflict about them – Moondancer had to know what I was doing, and unlike me, she would have cared.

Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle began to come together in my head. The things that had been nagging on my mind starting to make sense. If Pinkie and I were dead, Moonie taken into the Sky Palace and Trixie gone, then who told the equinoids about everything? There was a considerable gap in time between the four of us leaving the pre-Tunnels one way or another and the emergence of the runaway equinoids’ community. Somehow they learned about a lot of things, including such specifics as the Unity, but not about the fact that their Mother was basically the one who doomed them to be the way they were. Somepony very carefully fed them the information with a purpose.

The more I thought about it, the more crazy it sounded, but at the same time, the more it became clear. But it was only a guess so far, I needed to hear if it was true or not.

“Did you…” I began, but stammered, in the rush caused by my stroke of insight failing to find the right words on the first try. “Were you the one who created the legend about the Machine Goddess?”

“Yes,” Moonie’s image calmly answered to my shock. “Nothing less can operate the Nexus, you said it yourself.”

My vision swam, because there could be only one way the logic could take the next turn, “Was it my plan? To become a goddess?” With how much time passed, with how the facts managed to become twisted over time without any direct witnesses, I couldn’t write off the possibility. It could explain why I gave away the enchantments in the first place, to claim them later, but something went wrong...

“No,” the hologram objected, shaking her head.

That meant it was Moonie’s own idea, to give me a chance to redeem myself and fix, if not everything, the most grave of my mistakes, based solely on her faith in my return, though it should be impossible. I wasn’t sure if I should curse or thank her. It was classic Moondancer, doing what she thought was right for her friends.

If it was her plan, then she should know how to execute it, meaning that I suddenly had a way to answer my biggest conundrum: ascension to godhood.

“Okay then,” I nodded both to myself and the hologram, certain what I should ask next, “How do I become the Machine Goddess?”

“I’m sorry, my responses are limited, you must ask the right questions,” Moondancer deadpanned in the same very vaguely cryptic way.

That was strange. The recording admitted that it was Moondancer’s plan to set everything up for me to take the place as the equinoids’ mother and sovereign, but she refused to tell me how.

I sat, tapping my muzzle with my hoof, producing sharp clicks.

‘The right questions’. It was how the code worked: a machine could answer any inquiry whatsoever, but the problem was formulating those questions the correct way.

“Is there even a way to become a goddess?” I tried again.

The hologram beamed at me.

“That, my friend, is the right question,” she said, giving me an approving look and nod, Moondancer’s eyes under her gray bushy brows as young as I remembered, despite how wrinkled her face was. “But you are asking the wrong pony. Program terminated.”

That said, her image winked out of life.

With Seven by my side, I was all but galloping through the Sky Palace.

It took me about a minute to determine to whom Moondancer referred. There were four of us, but only one could possibly meet me by the time I returned. She could wait forever. Considering that Trixie knew how to work beyond Harmony’s limitations and she also wanted me to succeed, the answer was obvious.

I felt invigorated, eager to unravel that mystery, now that I had found a way. Though I also felt like I was forgetting something. But Del’s ‘coronation’ was going to be in a day, right? Right. I asked Seven and she confirmed that while I had spent a lot of time at the Twelve’s, I hadn’t completely lost track of it.

Trixie was staying in one of the elite suites, near the top of the palace, not far from where Luna stayed. To my surprise, she wasn’t there alone – Octavia hadn’t returned to Stalliongrad. Or, rather, she had returned to Canterlot at last. It was my chance to met another Former One.

Seven was guiding me through the corridors of the upper working, ‘office’, quarters, when suddenly, a seemingly random changeling called for me by name. Curious, I trotted back a few steps to meet that mare.

“Miss Sparkle,” she greeted me with a galant bow, “My name is Acus. I am working on treating Spike and I actually was looking for you. He is ready for a visit and asked for you.”

My visit to Trixie was instantly forgotten or at least moved one position lower on my list of priorities.

“How is he?” was my first question, leaving my speaker before I even thought. My mind was brimming with many more, but above all of them was my immense joy and relief. The curse was lifted, my fears dissolved.

“Well…” Acus faltered, looking suspiciously reluctant. “Spike’s condition is stable, but I am more of a manager than a changeling directly involved in the process of treatment.” Then she brightened. “You should talk with Forfex, she should be with him at the lab right now.” Addressing Seven, she explained, “We repurposed the old hydroponics lab, you know where it is.”

Seven nodded to Acus and then turned to me, “Is that there you want to go now, Mother?”

“Yes, please.”

We had to backtrack, or at least descend a few dozen floors, before we began to move in a horizontal direction. The lab was located on the level somewhere between the technical and ‘office’ zones, looking like it served as a science department. Most of the laboratories seemed to have been closed quite a long time ago, judging by the rust that had time to accumulate on the sealed doors. A few were still working, however, allowing me to take a look at the work going on in them. More often than not I was met with a green color: every second lab was dedicated to some kind of plant research, which made sense with the Sky Palace trying to be independent from the city and thus requiring a stable source of food.

Finally, we reached a massive door with a duo of guards armed with stunning charges standing on the sides of it. The entrance leading to the laboratory looked quite old, but as I came through it, I was pleasantly surprised – the interior didn’t match the outside. Sterile white and clean, it was full of new and high-quality equipment, to my confusion both medical and technical.

Spike was nowhere to be seen in that part of the lab, but there was a door leading further and at least half a dozen changelings milling around, one of them already moving in my direction.

“Twilight Sparkle, right?” the changeling in a lab coat asked me as she came closer (they were all in lab coats for that matter). Though she spared me a glance, all her attention was on a tablet held in her hoof. It was a holographic device, a frame with a projection inside, so I could see her staring intently at the moving rows of data.

“Yes,” I nodded, but then realized that it would go unseen. “And you are Forfex, right?”

“Yup, in the flesh.” Forfex finally tore her eyes from the hologram. “I bet my sister, Acus, sent you here, right? That lazy bugger,” she grumbled.

“She said Spike asked for me and that I can see him,” I replied, glancing at the only door in the room save for the one I used to enter.

In response, Forfex grimaced, making me feel a pang of worry. Was something wrong?

“Ah, our patient…” the changeling mare sighed. “Quite a case, that poor thing.”

My previously bright mood began to rapidly somber. In retrospect I shouldn’t have been so optimistic with so little told to me. ‘Stable’ didn’t mean good, he could be connected to life support for all I knew.

“How bad is his condition?” I asked and then added, learning from my mistake, “Besides being stable.”

“Sunset and…” Forfex trailed off, scratching the back of her head. “What was her name? Thorax?”

“Trixie,” I corrected her. If I wasn’t so concerned I would have found it humorous. The changelings’ names were interesting, mildly speaking.

Forfex nodded, “Yes, her,” and continued, “They removed the magic affecting Spike.” She winced and paused, giving me an unsure glance before speaking again, “According to their words it was the remnants of a spell used to revive the Crystal Ponies as golems during the Great War.”

The oil froze in my tubes. Somehow, knowing what exactly struck him down made it much worse. More than that, my mind readily began to create an explanation to how it could happen. An oblivious soldier bringing Spike a tasty treat from the battlefield, a chunk of flesh infused with necromantic magic, looking like a delicious gem. Or maybe somepony did that on purpose, perhaps thinking of it as a harmless prank, or not... If that was a possibility for me, I would have either vomited or fainted.

After giving me a few moments to come to my senses, or at least to a condition resembling that, Forfex quietly said, “It was impossible to determine if Spike lost any limbs or organs before the magic began to affect him or because of it, but that spell caused the prosthetics to become infused with his body in… not a good way,” she grimly finished.

“What… what does it mean for him?” I was afraid to hear the answer, but I needed to.

“As it was said, his condition is stable, the spell is gone now,” Forfex stated, scrolling through the data and looking like she wanted to show it to me, but deciding against it at the last moment. “But…” I gave her a wary glance, I wasn’t liking where that was going. “We had to remove all the prosthetics and the affected tissues. Spike is linked to a life support system right now,” -I cursed myself- “and we don’t know how to proceed further, because he needs artificial organs, but we aren’t sure about the Transference Effect in dragons.”

We were both silent for some time, Forfex looking at me sympathetically.

Then I weakly asked, “May I see him?” I didn’t want to listen anymore. Though I needed to hear that, it was more than I wanted.

The changeling mare hesitated for a few moments, giving me strange glances, looking somewhat fearful. She guided me to the door and pressed a button near it, revealing the bright room beyond, smelling sharply of disinfectant.

Unable to look anywhere but at the floor, I stepped in.

The dragons were always a mystery to everypony, to every other creature, maybe even to themselves. Their vehement reluctance to assist in any research aimed at revealing the secrets of their kind wasn’t helping. The scaled occupants of the seemingly uninhabitable lands that could be found beyond the Celestial Sea were unlike any other being. The magic fueling their hearts full of unquenchable fire came not from Harmony nor even from the arcanium core – an enigma. That mystical energy was what made the dragons one of the most unique and dangerous nations living on this planet.

There was no danger left in the dragon before me.

The moment I managed to finally tear my gaze from the tiled floor, it became glued to a miserable form on a huge hospital bed (actually at least five beds moved together). Forfex said that they had to remove the artificial parts of Spike’s body, but she didn’t say how much of it was not flesh anymore.

Almost everything.

The only limb he had remaining was his right arm and only the shoulder part of it, ending in an ugly, freshly stitched stub midway to where his elbow should be. His wings, legs, tail… all gone. The scars where his wings should be actually appeared very old. Only a few patches of his scaly skin barely covered his flayed body; muscle, withered and dark, was exposed to the air. Through the countless cuts in his flesh, tubes went into his body and out, carrying murky liquids. Spike had so little left of him that I could see the glow and beat of his heart through the gaps between his bared ribs.

Finally, my eyes stopped at Spike’s, the only part of him that wasn’t removed or mutilated in one way or another. He gazed back at me with an expression I couldn’t read – there was nothing left of his face but raw meat.

He took a shuddering breath, filling his only lung (which, to my further shock, I could see) and exhaled, “Mom…”

His voice, hoarse and weak, hissing awkwardly from the absence of lips, but the same as I remembered, broke the spell, and I rushed to him, barely avoiding tripping over the wires and tubes of the countless machines that kept feeding life into him.

“Spike!” I cried, extending my hooves to embrace his neck, but stopping myself awkwardly before I could touch his tender flesh. I put them near his muzzle and used the bed to propel myself close enough to nuzzle a remaining patch of skin around his eye, whispering in his ear, “I’m so happy to see you.”

Though Spike was skinned and butchered, he was still an adult dragon, his head almost the size of my own body.

“Me too…” Spike answered, rumbling under me. I felt his stub of an arm move and press on my back in an attempt to return my gesture. “I thought you were gone in that stupid experiment, I saw your grave.”

“I’m not…” I muttered and trailed off, not sure how to present him the situation. Then I realized that it didn’t matter. “Not anymore,” I said resolutely, “I’m here with you now.”

Our embrace lasted for a while before I finally leaned back only to regard Spike’s injuries with a pained look. This close his state looked even worse.

“I…” I stammered and had to wait until a wave of panic attack would pass over me. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes…” Spike groaned, making me wince. Seeing my reaction he chuckled and tried to joke, “Stings a little…” his feeble laugh turned into a cough, saliva and blood splattering the pristine white bed sheets.

Not knowing how to help I froze in front of him in desperation, my limbs outstretched but useless. I put a hoof on his stub in silent support. His cough didn’t last long, fortunately, but still left me concerned – it was obvious he was in agony.

Spike took a few laboured breaths before his body finally stopped shaking, the bared tendons ceasing their convulsions. “But, you know, as long as my dragon heart burns, I will live,” he commented and then grimly added, “I’ve had it worse.”

I almost recoiled in horror. What could be worse than that? And yet somehow I knew Spike wasn’t exaggerating.

“I’m so sorry…” I mumbled, my heart falling apart. If I could cry, I would be bawling right now. “I should have never let you go to the frontlines, I knew it wouldn’t end well,” I bitterly said, feeling anger growing inside of me. It was another of my mistakes. I hated myself so much in that moment. Then I finally realized what he was talking about when he spoke of the worse things. ”But at least that vile magic isn’t affecting your mind anymore.” It was a small joy, but I knew that torture of the spirit could be much more severe than any physical pain.

“My mind?” Spike echoed my words, sounding confused. “What are you talking about?”

I breathed a sigh of relief – he didn’t know. Then a pang of grief pierced my proverbial heart. He didn’t know.

Grimacing, I explained, “The magic that made the metal fuse to your body also drove you mad.” Maybe this moment wasn’t the best to reveal to Spike that he had been a feral beast massacring the underground populace for centuries, but there never would be a perfect moment to tell him the painful truth.

However, Spike didn’t react to that as something new. He sounded incredulous instead. “The only time I thought it drove me mad was when I saw you in the Tunnels a few weeks ago.”

What.

No, that was some kind of a mistake, a misunderstanding.

Shreds of skin and torn mane wet with blood were stuck in between the glistening razor sharp blades.

“But… but…” I had to calm myself once again, the only thing preventing me from hyperventilating was my lack of lungs. “You were hunting those who lived in the Tunnels! You killed ponies!”

“Yes, I did,” Spike answered terrifyingly calmly, making me take a step back from his bed. “No magic made me do that. It was my choice.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It must be some kind of a nightmare, another hallucination punishing me for my sins.

“Why?” I squeezed out of myself, my voice trembling.

“Wait, mother, you don’t remember?” Spike squinted his eyes at me.

That not only didn’t answer my question, it created more, but before asking them I had to explain, “I have memories only before the accident at the trial of the cybersuit.”

Spike half-closed his eyes for a few seconds, thinking, then rumbled, “Interesting...”

It wasn’t what I expected, but his silence gave me a moment to compose myself, which allowed me to focus on the only thing that mattered right now: Spike willingly committed murder. My mind teetered, threatening to send me into another of the spirals leading to a nervous breakdown, as I started to think about how many Spike killed.

“What. Happened?” I deadpanned in a cold tone, leaving Spike no other interpretation for my intentions.

“I left the frontline to be by your side,” he answered nonchalantly, but then his tone gained a growling, feral quality to it. “As a bodyguard. You needed that.”

My attempt to get a clear answer failed, as Spike apparently decided to tell me all that took place after the fateful trial. Obviously, I wanted to know it, but before that I had to understand why Spike chose to become a murderer. However, his words, the part about me needed security fueled my curiosity to the point where it won. “What? Why?”

Either Spike didn’t hear me, or simply ignored my words. He went on, telling me what happened next in a quiet, yet deep and imposing voice of a grown dragon:

“Rarity, or who I thought was Rarity,” Spike scoffed, “sent me away, as an ambassador to the Dragon Lands. In truth, there was an actual reason for it: the Dragon Lord wanted to go out with a bang and was planning a war.”

That aligned with Trixie’s story, and though I couldn’t remember the dragons being considered a threat during the Great War, I could easily imagine why such fear arose.

“And he got it – years later the griffins came, armed with the same weapons that broke the siege of the Crystal Empire, and killed him.” There was no regret nor even a hint of lamenting for the dead Dragon Lord in his words.

Save for that detail, Spike again confirmed what Trixie told me about the Griffin Empire advances, though I didn’t think the attack was so devastating.

“We had no chance, but that wasn’t going to stop us. As fierce as the war with griffins was, it couldn't compare to the strife tearing dragondom apart from inside: with the Dragon Lord dead, every damn dragon wanted to command everything. Ember, the Dragon Lord’s daughter, and I tried to rally them and turn to Equestria for help, but ended up being exiled. My curse, taken for a disease, didn’t help.”

Spike paused, recovering his breath, wheezing loudly. Though I didn’t forget how that conversation began, I listened with a breath held (figuratively).

“By that time, you were declared dead,” he muttered, and I understood the true reason why he had to catch a breath. It wasn’t a pleasant thing to recall, and Spike sounded as somber and sorrowful as if he was reliving that moment.

“I had no more reason to stay in the Dragon Lands, anyway. As I was leaving, we met a pony, or who I thought was a pony until I realized that she had the same magic Rarity had – it was a changeling. It didn’t take me too long to connect the dots. Queen Chrysalis snuck into Canterlot right under our noses and was keeping the Elements apart and you helpless.”

If only he had stayed… Queen Chrysalis was smart, she knew Spike would become my eyes and eventually see through her, especially considering how he felt about Rarity.

“Before rushing back to Canterlot, I had to visit the Crystal Empire, I knew that I had gotten the curse there and it had started killing me already,” Spike continued, but suddenly stopped, his eyes becoming glassy and body beginning to shiver.

For a moment I panicked, thinking that something went wrong with the life-supporting machinery, but then I realized something. Enough time had passed for the Crystal Empire to turn into the worst nightmare possible. Spike was shaking with rage.

“When I arrived there… The things I saw…” The muscles on his face were twitching, trying to form a grin full of sharp teeth, but he had no skin and his gums were bare. “The endless rows of capsules with the Crystal Ponies being grown… Then adults being taken out of them, gaping like fish, squinting at the sun, only to be cut into parts as they screamed… A literal river of blood reeking of death and atrocity…“

Spike closed his eye, and a single tear rolled from it, leaving a wet trail on exposed flesh, falling onto the white of his bed and blooming into a pink flower. All my anger at him, all my righteous demands were forgotten. I placed my hoof on the remains of his arm, squeezing it as gently as I could. No creature should have to suffer even the sight of that atrocity. Knowing of its existence, even imagining the possibility, was too much.

A few minutes passed before his voice, hollow and grim, filled the room again. “I tried to help them, there was a resistance fighting back. We reached the Crystal Heart, almost destroyed it, but had to fall back.”

Now Spike was recounting another side of the story Queen Chrysalis told me. He was the dragon who was involved in the liberation mission. But… that meant that Spike was amongst those who turned the Crystal Empire into a lure for the Windigos… Yet I couldn’t bring myself to blame Spike, even partially, for what happened. Not just because he was my son. He was doing the right thing when nopony else did. It wasn’t his failure, but the TCE’s.

“Ember sacrificed herself so I could flee,” Spike whispered almost inaudibly and fell silent, another tear painting the white beneath him with crimson. “I made it to Canterlot on a freight train, bleeding out and dying, my wings torn to shreds and legs broken. The changelings knew that I knew, the TCE knew that I knew, and for everypony else I was your son, so I had to hide. I got the metal limbs in the Tunnels and stayed there.”

Grimly, he finished, “I was too late to change anything. And I didn’t want to anymore.”

A heavy silence hung between us. Spike told me the story of his life until basically the moment he met me again. It was terrible. I couldn’t afford to fully embrace what he went through; it would leave me broken. However, he didn’t answer my question, at least not in the way I meant.

“I… I’m so sorry Spike,” I touched the skin under his eye with my forehead, then leaned back and steeled myself, “But I still don’t understand…”

The comprehension in Spike’s gaze told me what he knew that I wanted to hear, though for some reason he wasn’t telling me it. Not because he was reluctant or didn’t have the words, but as if I should know the answer already. Still, he said, “You are lucky to not remember, just knowing how you were treated was worse than seeing the Crystal Empire.”

“What do you keep talking about?” I snapped. It wasn’t the first time he vaguely hinted at some issue ‘I’ had with ponies, or whoever, after the accident.

“You always were that oblivious, mom.” To my surprise Spike shot me a glare. “After we all returned without Cadence from the Crystal Empire, the ponies began to whisper. As the war raged on, they started to talk aloud. After the trial they openly blamed you for Rainbow’s death, called you ‘the Hero Killer’...” I stared at him in shock and disbelief. Was it true? How didn’t I notice? “You don’t believe me? Go and take a look at your tombstone, though they built that ugly tower all over it...”

I was refused it, Moondancer had to make one for me. The marks on it, as if somepony had tried to write something, but was stopped by the powerful enchantment. How much must the ponies have hated me? ‘Among other things’, Moondancer’s hologram told me. She wasn’t talking only about the equinoids.

Yet that still didn’t answer the question of why Spike would turn into a feral beast, and I asked, “Was that why you started to kill ponies? Hunted them like prey? To avenge me?” I could understand that, but not accept. After everything what Spike went through, such a thing could be the straw that broke his back. His mind.

“I needed to survive, I had to eat,” Spike answered like it was a simple fact, his reply hitting me like a slap in the face.

My mouth opened and closed a few times before I was able to voice my wrath. However, I didn’t speak, I screamed, “But why kill!? You were raised among them, you were friends with ponies! You could have asked for help!”

“I didn’t want any help from the traitors,” Spike all but spat, his bared tendons again trying futilely to form an angry scowl.

“Queen Chrysalis tricked them all,” I seethed, pointing with my hoof in the vague direction of ‘them’, “The TCE are beyond evil, I can’t disagree, but not everypony is the TCE!”

Spike looked at me like I was trying his patience, asking the same question over and over, though the answer was obvious. When he spoke, it was in a slow, deliberate tone.

“When I was staying in the Dragon Lands I was writing to you every so often, but I also had a penpal, Fancy Pants, if you could remember him.”

I couldn’t fathom how that was relevant to my accusations, but still let him go on with that. I did remember Fancy Pants, a noble stallion, surprisingly smart and nice for his station and wealth.

“From him I learned how the ponies accepted the Crown, even though it was obvious that what the new government was doing was wrong. Nopony tried to stop the corrupt incompetent rulers from answering with violence to every complaint. There were thousands upon thousands of refugees who suffered horrible lives, but only so few joined Fluttershy and Pinkie. The others silently accepted their fates, many even openly supported the Crown. Chrysalis may be a murderous witch under a disguise, but the actual villains were the ones who didn’t stop her and instead followed her, who gambled on their neighbors being squashed so they themselves would prevail, only to be sent to the camps next week. The ponies had a choice and they chose a nightmare. The changelings had nothing to do with anything.”

It was like listening to Queen Chrysalis. Was it her ploy, a catch in her deal? Did she put a spell on him? But something was telling me that wasn’t the case, because I finally began to understand what Spike was trying to tell me all this time, with every sentence of his story.

“Spike, not everypony is bad, it’s… just wrong!” I yelled at him. “I thought I raised you better than that! You can’t simply kill the ponies becau–”

He cut me off in a hard voice, “I wasn’t killing for fun or retribution, I did what I had to do to survive. You were in the Tunnels, that mare who was with you reeked of sex and blood…” He paused, squinting at me in discontent. “How many good ponies are out there? Tell me.”

“She is a good pony!” I barked back, though I felt like it was a weak argument. How many ponies were raping her? Three? Four? The Tunnels were a sanctuary for all kinds of ponies. Spike’s question wasn’t without sense, but it was wrong from the beginning, not with the answer implied for it.

“Perhaps,” Spike agreed, “But if I kill a good pony, nothing bad happens. If I kill a rapist or a murderer, they won’t commit a crime again. They all would have died anyway, their lives never meant anything.”

“Spike, are you serious!?” I screamed at him in shock. What kind of logic was that?

A tired sigh escaped his muzzle, his lung deflating in his ribcage, “I tried your way, mother. Look where it brought you. Where it brought us.”

“Just. Stop.”

I turned away from him and squeezed my eyes shut, or, rather, simply closed my eyelids, that was all they could do. In a meaningless gesture I pinched the bridge of my nose, porcelain clicking against porcelain.

It wasn’t stupid or nightmarish… It was just wrong, every moment of it, every word Spike said. I could see the path his logic took, but there wasn’t even the smallest hint of morality on that path. It was a twisted way to see the world. He wasn’t a feral beast, he was… he was… judge, jury and executioner. My hoof fell to the floor with a loud click. How different was he from Rainbow Dash in that regard? They were both the same, broken by the things they witnessed, lost their faith in everything good. In fact, they weren’t the only ones. Delight turned away from her kind in the end, choosing the changelings. However, she wasn’t a Former One or a dragon from times when ponies remembered the virtues, yet she was a good pony. How many more living in Canterlot had their virtues stolen from them?

That wasn’t important right now.

The reunion I wanted to happen for so long didn’t go as I expected. It would be an understatement to say that I was mad at Spike. Though that didn’t mean that I would turn away from him – I still had to find a way to help his horrible condition. I just needed some time to cool down. He was wrong, and the price for his mistakes was dire, but I was sure I could persuade him to think different, to make him realize what he had done.

I was preparing to leave without a word, but then one of the endless questions nagging at the back of my mind suddenly came to focus. “On second thought, tell me one last thing: What did equinoids did to you? Why kill them?”

“Listen more to the crazies in the Tunnels,” Spike snorted. “I would never eat the flesh of a Crystal Pony ever again. I haven’t killed a single one, only took their gems out when they happened to be in my way, and hid them. It is still better than the lives they live.” The hoard. “I couldn’t bring myself to kill something that called you their mother,” he finished in a curious tone, looking at me intently. So he knew. I wondered how much, and what he thought about it.

“I… thank you for that,” I said with a grateful nod. Then my voice hardened, ”But you should know that I am still disappointed in you. You are not the Spike I remember.”

“And you are not Twilight,” Spike quickly responded to me.

“You mean ‘as you remember me’?” I asked, though I was sure it was a mistake. All that talking must have tired him.

“No,” came Spike’s reply, confusing me even further.

“What?”

Spike used his mangled arm to raise his body from the bedsheets and turn to face me, looking at me intently with his eyes, burning with some strange expression I couldn’t read. Then he said, the glowing heart in his chest beating in time with his somber words, “The magic is more or less the same, but you don’t act like the Twilight who died along with Celestia, like my mother. And not like the blinded hysterical mare I never could recognize, who blamed herself for being alive and who would have agreed with me.”

I left Spike’s room without a word, walking past Forfex even though she seemed to have something to tell me. I didn’t want to talk, I didn’t want to think, I didn’t want anything but to forget Spike’s words. To wake up and find that it all was a fever fantasy, another of those morbid visions I now had instead of dreams.

The door to the ex-lab shut behind me and I took a few steps from it to stop and lean on the wall. It was then I realized that I was in the company of three ponies. Not ponies, in fact. Two changelings still stood guard, but the third wasn’t a pony either. I doubted Trixie counted as one anymore.

Seven must have found and brought her here, but I still wasn’t in the mood to speak about anything, even such an important matter as my mission. The approaching sound of her arcanium hooves clopping against the floor reached my hearing, meaning that my wishes would remain only wishes.

“I didn’t lie to you,” Trixie said, “I didn’t know.”

I gave her no response, I didn’t even bother to turn to her. Though things weren’t anywhere near smooth between us, I didn’t blame her for giving me false hope. It would have been so much better if her words were true and it was insanity which guided Spike.

In fact, there wasn’t much reason for me to be mad at Trixie for anything. Sure, she wasn’t telling me everything, hiding the details of her life. But in truth, she didn’t have anything to hide. Between Sunset, Rainbow, Queen Chrysalis… Spike… even myself, she was the least monstrous. If anything, she was a hero compared to us.

Remembering something Sunset told me, I asked, not as much as out of curiosity, but to not appear disrespectful with my silence, “What did Sombra do to you?”

Though I couldn’t see Trixie, it was easy to imagine her grimace. That question must be bringing very unpleasant memories.

“I passed the plan of the Crystal Empire defenses to the Equestrian Army so they could find a spot to break through,” Trixie quietly said. “I was by his side in the throne room when your brother stormed in. King Sombra instantly understood who had betrayed him and used a spell on me that made my body decay.” She gulped. “Slowly.”

“Shining Armor would have helped you,” I commented, finally turning to look at her. As expected, Trixie didn’t look like she was having a good time.

“For him I was just another Coven witch, I was lucky to get away alive. And he had just learned that Princess Cadence was dead, he wouldn't listen,” she replied with a shake of her head. “I tried to dispel the curse, but could do nothing. So, I grabbed an unfinished spell King Sombra was working on – it was supposed to make him a god or something like that. I hoped that it would save me, but it didn’t work at all.”

“How did you end up in Canterlot?” Since Trixie was an enemy to everypony and she apparently didn’t know about Sunset, heading to the heart of Equestria, the last city left, wasn’t a reasonable thing to do, especially in her dire state.

“I rushed after my friend, Starlight Glimmer, who was sent there,” Trixie explained, most likely speaking of her ‘colleague’. “When I met her on the outskirts of the city I found out what her mission was – to destroy it. I…” she faltered. “I couldn’t allow that to happen. Things got heated and I…” Trixie sobbed, the liquid metal on her face forming tears, muttered, “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t want to harm her.”

Even though we technically weren’t friends and I had shown nothing but outright hostility towards Trixie since our confrontation at Dodge City, it didn’t stop me from walking towards her and wrapping my hooves around her shuddering form (which was a bit awkward considering the difference in size and material between us). If anything, I was returning the debt – she did the same for me in the Deep Tunnels.

A couple of minutes later Trixie calmed down and continued, speaking in a small voice, “The spell needed a sacrifice. Magic that works outside Harmony always has a price. A shadow for a shadow.”

With an uneasy feeling (and fascination) I watched Trixie’s front leg move up, leaving one shadow outline midway, then another. The last one lingered only for a moment and merged with the first one. A pony with two shadows and absolutely nothing else.

“With the last component it was activated and I became who I am now,” Trixie said in a hollow voice, then morosely added, “It didn’t reverse King Sombra’s spell, by the way, I still rotted alive. Maybe I deserved that.”

I couldn’t help but shake my head at that, though it went unnoticed by Trixie, who was lost in her unpleasant memories. She wasn’t a bad pony, far from it. Ironically, she had become too humble to see that. Trixie did join the Coven, whatever her goals, that I couldn’t forget. Aren’t there things you regret? But I would always remember that she also helped to break the Crystal Empire’s defense (though not without the help of Sunset, if that was true) and that she was the reason why Canterlot didn’t share the fate of the rest of the cities in Equestria, becoming nothing but scattered villages.

“I wish I could undo what I did, but I can’t, the spell is too powerful,” Trixie sadly concluded, the ghostly limb returning back into its arcanium shell.

A thought, so outrageous I couldn’t believe it came from me and not somepony else, visited my mind. I tried to forget it, but it was like fire and my proverbial brain was made of cotton sodden with alcohol. Magic that works outside Harmony always has a price, the reasonable part of me screamed. Who was going to pay it? But Moondancer sent me to Trixie for a reason, and there was no other way.

“Trixie, do you still have that spell?”

There was some grim satisfaction in seeing Trixie’s metal face form an expression of utter shock, something that even the truth behind the Crown’s identities couldn’t achieve. Her first answer was vehemently negative, as I expected. After all, she had just revealed to me the consequences of using that spell. However, when I told her about Moondancer’s last message, her deprecation began to wither until it had turned into a mild reluctance, which began to melt as well as I continued to persuade her.

I assured Trixie that I wasn't going to use that spell as it was. I didn’t need to be turned into a shadow. We were going to work on it together and try to complete and possibly rewrite it.

It became the final argument that changed her heart. So now I was heading back to the Twelve’s and Trixie was going to visit her hideout in the Deep Tunnels, where she kept her notes.

Navigating the Sky Palace on my own wasn’t very easy, but with the changelings being friendly and always willing to show me the directions, I was managing. Between everything that had happened in the last week I had almost no time before Delight’s ‘coronation’, so the only thing I was going to do at the workshop was take a short nap, which I direly needed after learning so many things in such a short time. I couldn’t shake off the feeling that I had to do something else, but I couldn’t remember what.

In my slumber I had a vision.

Spike was in it, his appearance constantly shifting between how he looked during the Great War, as he was when I met him in the Tunnels and his current miserable state. He was in the darkness of an ever-changing tunnel, raking at ponies, leaving their mangled corpses bleeding in piles around him. He was standing on them, a growing mountain of bodies and bones, seeping a dark river. However, only one set of obsidian claws was striking at the helpless, the other was holding something near his chest. Somepony. A mare with a purple faded coat and silver mane with a still bright streak of magenta. Her eyes were milky white, but somehow I knew she could see everything, even though her face never moved, a mask of bitter indifference.

I watched the display of violence, a senseless massacre, from another mountain, made of sparkling gemstones. I could feel a heartbeat in my chest, a feeling long forgotten. As I looked I saw nothing but blinding magic in my ribcage, pulsing. With every arcane throb, an equinoid was rising from the crystals around me to stand by my side.

A hoof shaking my shoulder brought me out of that virtual reality, as I was turning to see who disturbed my artificial sleep, an idle thought came to my mind: If there was no one to wake me, would I slumber forever?

It was Eight, an untalkative stallion. However, it wasn’t him simply deciding to break his habit. In the light through the gap of the open door I could see a silhouette with a curved horn, perforated limbs and gossamer wings. Time was up.

All Twelve of my firstborn were waiting for me in their work-room. With how much they were involved in the Swarm’s life, I suspected that they were all going to be present at the ritual. Not that I minded.

Together we filed out to the corridors, surprisingly empty and quiet. On second thought, it shouldn’t be strange – an event of such importance was a valid reason to put off work for a few hours, or even an entire day.

The changeling stallion guided us down, deep into the Sky Palace, deeper than I ever went before, save for the time I entered this place. Since I was at the head of our equinoid procession, I could see the changeling’s face. A solemn expression dominated his chitinous features, and for the first time I wondered if the Swarm was actually happy with the change of their leadership. Not in the sense of whether they wanted to lose their Mother – I was sure they didn’t – but if they liked the prospect of Delight becoming their queen.

The steel and plastic of the Sky Palace interior changed into stone without any warning, but that didn’t last for long. Very soon, dark glistening bone-like structures began to cover the walls. The cold artificial lamps were replaced by the green luminosity of the strange lanterns hanging from the arched ceiling. We were entering the Hive.

Those bizzare passages were empty as well and remained so until we came to an entrance covered with a membrane, which retracted on itself as we approached. Inside that room, Delight was chatting with Wire and her family.

“Twi!” Del exclaimed joyously as I entered. “You’ve come!”

“Of course,” I replied with my head tilted in surprise. “What made you think I wouldn’t? I promised, after all.”

“Ah, well…” Del looked uncomfortable. “You disappeared for a week, and I heard things with Spike didn’t go very well…” she trailed off.

I wondered from whom she learned that. Though, in the place packed with the best spies in Canterlot, it would be silly to expect any secrets to remain concealed. I only hoped Del wouldn’t be focusing on my problems at the moment like this.

“I was just busy,” I said in a slightly hard voice, hinting to her that it wasn’t important right now. “How are you holding up?”

Delight was pale, quite a feat for a mare with a white coat, and I was sure she was trembling, but she tried to keep a straight face. The bandages covering half of her body had been removed, revealing the cuts and bites that were not yet entirely healed. Beside all that, she looked splendid, with her mane and coat groomed and clean, almost shining on their own.

“I am fine,” Del lied, and I raised an eyebrow, prompting her to admit in a guilty tone, “Very nervous.” She let out a sigh, then sombered, her expression hardening. “But I’m not backing out on my decision.”

In that moment, Sunset Shimmer walked into the small room, addressing Del right from the doorway. “The preparations are finished, everything is ready.”

Delight nodded and gulped, glanced at me then followed after Sunset, who had already turned away, leaving.

To my surprise, the Twelve, who didn’t enter the chamber with me, had dispersed. However, it wasn’t only Sunset who awaited us outside – Queen Chrysalis was by her side. She greeted me with a silent nod and mouthed, “Thank you.”

I answered her with a nod of my own and a sympathetic glance. There was something about her appearance and expression that made her look like anything but the monarch she was. Perhaps it was the serene acceptance written all over her face, or that embroidered red comforter draped over her slumped shoulders.

In grave silence, we spilled into a vast long passage which opened into a large chamber at its far end. I could barely see the opening – we would have to walk a lot before reaching it.

Delight was looking at the floor, muttering something, chanting, likely bolstering herself. Queen Chrysalis was slowly walking, her half-lidded eyes not seeing things in the present, but memories long past. Sunset strode by her side, her expression somber.

As we were traversing the considerable length of the corridor, I could feel the looks pointed at me.

Hollow Druse, her hindlegs resounding with metal clops each step, was giving me curious glances. I could see that she was a mare hardered by the unforgiving life of the Edge; as much as she was wondering at me, she was measuring me.

I could sense Roche Dust’s attention quite literally. The unexpectedly young blind mare (or at least not as old as I imagined her), Wire’s mother, was using the Arcane Sight to compensate for her injury, her horn constantly aglow, though dimly. Barely felt, waves of her magic were washing over me.

Wire was… glaring at me. I realized that she had been doing so since I met her eyes. Speaking of which, her prosthetic, which almost killed her, had been replaced. It wasn’t the bulky artificial eye from before, but a delicate and beautiful replacement. A golden plate covered her eye socket with a radiant crystal inside it, softly glowing with the golden light. The changelings spared no expense. Still, what she was mad at me for this time? What did I do?

What didn’t I do?

I almost caught my hoof as I finally remembered that I was supposed to talk with Tin Flower, but it had completely slipped my mind between my fervent research, meeting with Spike and the ‘coronation’. Feeling horrible, I mentally put finding the troublesome filly at the top of my checklist.

Thankfully, my guilt didn’t have much time to tear me apart, as we finally reached the chamber at the end of the passage.

To call it a chamber was a huge understatement. It was an enormous cavern, spacious enough to fit thousands of changelings. It might be even bigger than that; my estimation came from the fact that the said thousands of changelings were already there, their eyes glowing in the darkness like stars in the night sky, just as numerous and cold.

The only place lit was an elevated spot in the very middle of it, where a twisted black throne towered, surrounded by sinister green glowing magic runes.

As crowded as the cavern was, it was quiet, until the moment we took a few steps in. Then a rustle of countless bodies, a whisper of wings and chitinous hooves moving filled the cave, as all the stares became glued to the newcomers. Delight stumbled, taking a step back, but quickly recovered and pressed on, shaking.

The walk to the throne somehow felt much longer than going through the pass leading to the cave, though the distances were the opposite, in fact. Del had obvious trouble walking as she bordered on fainting from the sheer pressure of attention given to her by the massive congregation. Yet she refused my help. In return, I refused to leave her side, walking by her and providing my silent support as she took her last steps as a pony.

When we reached the throne, only Queen Chrysalis and Sunset were by our sides. Wire and her family took their place at the front rows. I could also see the Twelve there, the white porcelain standing out in the sea of pitch.

I expected the changeling queen to climb onto the throne, but instead she was sitting in front of it, looking at it sadly and longingly.

“Thank you, Sunny,” Queen Chrysalis said ever so quietly, but it still sounded like thunder in the pregnant silence. “For everything.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Chryssi,” Sunset replied just as softly. “Farewell.”

Astonished, I watched as the Former One left her friend’s side, stopping near Delight and me. The reality of what was about to happen began to sink in: The ritual didn’t involve Queen Chrysalis seeing it through.

The silence and waiting were starting to become unbearable.

With a shaking voice, Del whispered, trying not to make it too loud, but failing, “Will it hurt?”

“No,” Queen Chrysalis said.

At the same time, Sunset stated grimly, “Yes.”

The queen turned from the throne to give Sunset an amused glance, then her gaze slid to Del. The elder changeling smiled encouragingly and motioned with her head for the shaking pegasus to come closer.

Del, fighting with her breath (she had begun to hyperventilate) and struggling to make her violently shaking limbs obey, climbed the stairs to the platform with the throne and wicked runes. Then, with as much difficulty, she made it onto the throne itself, its height being an obstacle on its own, despite her being a pegasus.

Queen Chrysalis’ and Del’s eyes were on the same level now, a creamy pink and milky white meeting emerald. They stared at each other for a full minute before Queen Chrysalis spoke, her tone kind and sorrowful. “Please, care for them like I couldn’t.”

Then, without warning, the twisted horn on top the queen’s head flared up, and the air around them exploded with magic.

A wild whirlwind of arcane energies surrounded the platform, the runes pulsing with an erratic heartbeat. A hurricane of jade fire was so fierce, it looked like it was going to consume and obliterate everything and everyone in the cavern, but it never went outside the invisible wall marked by the runes. The contained disaster’s influence ended with its light, bringing countless chitin faces out of the darkness, glistening with fresh tears.

The roar of magic wind wasn’t the only sound permeating the air. Deep chanting in the ancient language of the Unicorn Tribe, starkly reminding me of the peculiar changeling names, echoed through the cavern. Between the words of the spell violating Harmony, tearing through it, I could hear screams of agony, which were making my proverbial heart clench. Sunset was right about the pain. Magic that works outside Harmony always has a price.

All I could see through the curtain of viridian flames were two silhouettes. Queen Chrysalis was like a lighthouse, her dark slender towering form topped with the shining of her horn, feeding the maelstrom. And the throne with two points of radiance, two eyes glowing and moving, as if the head was thrashing.

The sight was as horrifying with its raw power as it was enchanting in its mystical beauty. It was a ritual from the times when the taste of primal magic, coming from the arcanium core, had yet to be fully forgotten and the scars left by those who wielded it freely were yet to be fully healed. Even putting that aside, I was looking at the birth of a being standing a step above mortals, though still below the deities, just one leap short. An ultimate transformation, an absolute change into a creature who could become anyone, take any form.

The chanting suddenly died out, as well as the screams, and the chrysalis of verdant blaze began to unravel, falling like a screen at a theatre play, a new act about to start. The runes winked out, leaving only charred marks on the gray stone.

Queen… Just Chrysalis’ body was black again, or rather, ashen. Before yielding to the silent blackness, the last spurt of fire let me witness how it fell into itself, in a rain of cinders. The comforter, only slightly singed, covered the remains of the previous queen, her crown rolling from it to the throne with a melodious clutter.

With so many changelings, glowing prosthetics, bodies of the Twelve and my own, the darkness wasn’t absolute, save for one place – the platform with the throne and the newborn queen.

The silence was different this time. It was like everyone present was holding their breath, even though none could be heard before anyway. The air tingled with anticipation, every pair of eyes, those love-hungry stars of the chitin-black night, were fixed on the nothingness in the heart of the Swarm, waiting for the emptiness in their chests to be filled.

A flash of emerald, a flaming aurora of green magic, flared for a blink of an eye. A moment later it returned, but stayed this time. The glowing outline of a curved, sharply deformed horn cut the darkness, followed by another outline on the floor, near the base of the throne. The telekinesis unsteadily levitated the crown from the ground, up and up, until it joined the outline of the horn and both let darkness take their place again.

On the throne, a pair of glowing deep green eyes opened.

Almost simultaneously the soft light of a myriad lanterns lit by the Swarm filled the cavern, making it as bright as dawn, revealing the slightly taken aback form of a changeling queen sitting on the throne. Her chitin was milky white, not yet hardened, matching her passed away predecessor. Periwinkle mane, almost of the same color as before, save for the subtle hint of poisonous green at the ends of the hair, cascaded down her shoulders in a waterfall of curls. Wings, magnificent and glimmering with all the colors of the rainbow were extending from her back on their own, just as soft as her chitinous skin, but only for so long.

A roar, a chorus of thousands of voices, laden with love, joy and respect, boomed, making the walls and floor shake:

“Hail Queen Heterocera! Hail Queen Heterocera! Hail Queen Heterocera!”

I was staring at the opened book, a pencil in my magic tapping the workbench which Trixie and I were using as a table. It wasn’t just any book, it was that book, the one bound in leather and resisting Trixie’s magic touch. It wasn’t a foliant full of spells, however, mostly a diary which Trixie very insistently asked me not to flip through.

It had been a week since Delight’s coronation. She herself insisted that I never address her as Queen. Heterocera, if needed. The celebration was… interesting. The Hive was divided into two halves, one mourning their lost Mother, the other cheering for the new one. There was no conflict between them whatsoever, and Del was allowed to visit both parts freely, to pay her respects or to bask in adoration. However, the next day every changeling had to return to work – Canterlot was still running out of time. Delight and Sunset were now almost inseparable, as the latter was teaching the former everything from how to care for the Swarm to how to run the Crown. Even though the Crown as the government would stop existing due to the deal with Stalliongrad, Canterlot needed the rule of changelings until the evacuation took place.

Trixie returned a day later and relocated herself to the Twelve’s, bringing Octavia along. The mysterious Former One wasn’t especially good with magic, which was a bit ironic considering her nature. However, she was an absolute genius with any mechanics, matching Moondancer with her skill, at least according to Trixie. On one hoof, that recommendation could be very biased, knowing their relationship. On the other hoof, Trixie’s gun was made by Octavia and it was impressive work.

The reason I was trying to beat a hole in the metal tabletop with a writing implement was because of my complete failure to talk with Flower, which was nagging at the back of my mind. Since the filly left the hospital, it became nearly impossible to track her down. Because she grew up in the maze of the Junkyard, it was very easy for her to adapt to the convoluted structure of the Sky Palace, including the service tunnels and, according to some changelings, even the ventilation. Waiting for Trixie, I spent an entire day hunting Flower down, but to no avail. She was avoiding me and the Twelve like the plague. The most maddening thing was that at the same time, she for some reason was keeping close, at the edge of my vision, but evaporating without a trace when I tried to approach her. Even now, I was sure the stubborn filly was skulking somewhere outside the workshop.

Suddenly, I had nothing to tap with. The pencil in my magic turned into a small pile of dust. I glared at Trixie, inky shadows still bubbling around her horn. She answered me with a glare of her own. While she had no filly to say her apologies to, we both were feeling down for another reason. Though it had been five days since she brought her notes, we had made almost no progress so far.

Despite my lack of experience with unconventional magic, it wasn’t as hard as learning the Prime Code (or non-Prime for that matter). Most of the runes were more or less familiar, just rare or used in some strange ways. The difficulty was in those that weren’t, one half of them being the crude cuneiform of the rams and goats. The other half were runes constructed by King Sombra himself, and I had to reluctantly admit that he was no fool with magic; they were a marvel on their own. I could understand most of them, but not quickly. The good news was that those parts new to me were the ones we had to modify or remove altogether, unless I wanted to become the Goddess of Shadows or something like that.

Trixie helped me to define my goal, the point we were trying to reach with that spell.

According to her words, which I listened to very warily because none other than King Sombra was her teacher, the entities of this world called the Old Gods were the ones whose power we aimed to replicate, since there was no other being that close to true godhood. They were the remaining individuals from very different lands and races who had unlimited access to the arcanium core and its energy. The details of how they managed to keep that access, with Harmony being created specifically to prevent any creature from having that amount of magic, were sketchy due to it being resolved between the creators of Harmony and the Old Gods. The former were long gone, sacrificing themselves to create the enchantment, while the latter were extremely elusive (to the point that it was hard to prove if they even existed or were just a legend).

Anyhow, our task was to create a spell that would allow me to access the arcanium core. Which brought me to the moment of choice and the reevaluation of magic I had postponed for so long.

Obviously, something like that was only going to be done with unconventional magic. As Trixie told me five hundred years ago, “One can’t bend Harmony’s rules using its own tools.” Luna confirmed that a couple of weeks ago, reminding me that the main reason for Harmony existing was to prevent anypony or any creature from having too much power.

So, I had no other choice but to start learning what I once called ‘dark magic’. Honestly, with the Twelve seeing no difference, Trixie using her power for good, and my best friend in this life being a changeling queen, I had no right to claim that it was ‘dark’ or ‘bad’ anymore. The TCE workers responsible for the Crystal Empire’s plight weren’t dark mages, but that didn’t stop them from being the most vile ponies I ever had the misfortune to be aware of.

Though unconventional magic had very different principles, it was still magic, and magic theory was something I was good at. Trixie, who by admission wasn’t the best mage back when she started (and still was far from my level in traditional practices), now used her centuries of experience to help me work with shadow magic.

But it wasn’t enough.

Actually, we had a lead, but it was a dead end. For it to work, to basically tear a hole in Harmony, the spell needed a steady torrent of power, an output not allowed by Harmony itself. Or we needed an artifact capable of doing so, but that would have to be something like the Crystal Heart.

Trixie stopped giving me the stink eye and reclined back on the chair, it creaking menacingly under the weight of her no longer enchanted body.

“Damn it, Tavi,” she groaned, “If only you didn’t give those crystals to the Stalliongrad assholes.”

“They are helping us, remember?” Octavia grumbled, tearing her gaze from one of Moondancer’s books. “I didn’t go through all those troubles only to hear you whining.”

“Whining? I’m not whining. I am complaining,” Trixie retorted, making me chuckle, though she was already too involved into the banter to notice.

They were the exact words of Rarity, from a long time ago. I, too, leaned back in my chair. It was a good time, we were happy and if something went wrong we could just use the Elements…

I almost fell from my sitting place, barely preventing my body from becoming a bunch of porcelain shards on the floor.

“Trixie, you’re a genius!” I exclaimed, rummaging through our notes, trying to find that ‘dead end’ spell.

“I am?” she looked at me in surprise, her argument with Octavia forgotten.

“Yes, if I’m right, we can use the Elements of Harmony to power up the spell!” I continued to look for the notes, the gears in my mind whirling like mad.

“Um, Twi,” Trixie called me, but I ignored her. Then she used her magic to touch mine, disrupting it and forcing me to pay her attention.

“Twilight, as good as that sounds, it won’t work,” she said, shaking her head slowly.

Everything in my head came to a screeching halt. It would be best for me to go take a nap – I needed it if I forgot such things.

I didn’t know what happened to the Elements. It had been more than five hundred years since I saw them for the last time. They were likely still kept at the remains of the Royal Palace, but even if they were, it mattered not. They didn’t work the last time, not for me. There was no chance we would be able to find six friends who possessed the corresponding virtues in Canterlot on such short notice.

I slumped in my seat, and Trixie reached out with her hoof, squeezing mine in silent support.

Another failure.

I was running out of time. Very soon the evacuation would start. The appearance of Stalliongrad only temporarily froze the city, the next day all the conflicts only flared up in intensity. The reports from the Western Edge were pointing at former workers gathering forces, preparing to strike very soon. The work, started by Queen Chrysalis and continued by Delight, was nearing its end.

The plan was very far from perfect, speaking mildly. I even refused to believe it was true at first, that it wasn’t a stupid joke. The spy network set a rumour afloat about the city evacuating, as declaring it openly would prompt the TCE to respond with violence. They would do that anyway, the moment the evacuation started. They needed ponies, to sell them their produce and send those who couldn’t buy to the Edge as slaves. It was a vicious circle profiting the TCE board of directors, and they would do everything to keep the money coming.

So far, a large part of the population eagerly grasped the hope of escaping the clutches of Canterlot, but there were so many who refused to believe. No one talked aloud about that, but saving even half of the ponies living in Canterlot was a goal nearly impossible to reach.

Anyhow, I took my hoof out of Trixie’s grasp and began to tidy the improvised table, stacking papers, digging the tablets out from beneath them.

All of a sudden, Octavia slammed her book shut and huffed, “You unicorns are always so quick to give up.”

“This isn’t the time for your jokes, Tavi,” Trixie barked at her, giving me an apologetic glance.

Octavia approached the table and put down the book: ‘A Farewell to Hooves: The Arcane Prosthetics’.

“You didn’t even try!” she snorted.

Trixie opened her mouth to retort, but I cut her off. “The Elements need six virtuous ponies to use them,” I snapped. “There aren’t even enough ponies in the Sky Palace, virtuousness aside.” I wasn’t angry at any of them, just tired.

“From what you told me,” Octavia addressed Trixie, “The Elements are the tool of Harmony, an arcane device.” She turned to me. “And every device can be hacked.”

I rolled my eyes and quipped, “If it was so easy, why has nopony done it already?”

“How many tried?” Octavia replied with an intent look.

Suddenly, sorting the papers and tablets didn’t seem so important.

My guess was correct, the Elements were still in the remains of the Royal Palace. Accompanied by Sunset, I made a trip there. To my surprise and relief, Princess Celestia’s magic was gone – Luna had undone the spell. Though, without it, that place felt especially dark and empty.

Now, the Elements, the most powerful artifacts in Equestria were lying on the workbench like some cheap trinkets amongst papers marred with scrawled notes. Half of them were disassembled, their frames being nothing but decorative parts.

Octavia was right, they were just enchanted gems in essence. However, the enchantments they had were beyond complex, they were the most intricate I had ever seen. ‘Hacking’ into them was out of the question, it appeared at first, as they were written in runes more ancient than Equestria, perhaps even older than the Tribes. However, not everything was hopeless. Those enchantments could be divided into two parts. The first was the biggest and the least comprehensible, responsible for mental analysis, to determine the Bearer and their worthiness. The second was the part evaluating if the target was a threat to Harmony. And then there was the rest, magic knitting it all together in a coherent system, along with such things as transforming into a proper shape and so on. We were working on unraveling and modifying those components, since they were the only weak place we could think of.

To say that we had a success would be an overstatement, but it wouldn’t be a lie. Limited in time and knowledge, we were able to achieve some semblance of our goal. The spell wasn’t going to turn me into a goddess, it would only give me temporary access to the arcane core. The rest was up to me. That was if we were able to succeed with the other part, which, despite being defined, suddenly became quite an unexpected problem, something none of us were able to foresee.

“I’m not letting you do that!” Octavia screamed at Trixie.

“Who else?” Trixie snapped back, turning away with a grim, but determined expression.

“Ask your friend Sunset, no one is going to miss that war criminal,” Octavia barked, circling Trixie to look her in the face.

“Queen Heterocera needs her. Canterlot needs her.”

We had found a way to fire the Elements without the Bearers. A recursive loop was supposed to lock a ‘Bearer-determining’ part of the spell in an undefined condition while still allowing the energy release as the next step. But there was a problem we had no workaround for.

The Elements didn’t release energy just like that, they still needed a target. Somepony or something else had to become one. Though all the energy was supposed to be absorbed by a spell, a single mistake would be enough for the Elements to work as they were intended. The problem was that we weren’t sure how wide their range was. Most importantly, combined with the previous issue, another was that the majority of the Sky Palace’s inhabitants could fall under the category of threats to Harmony.

“Twilight,” Octavia addressed me since Trixie proved to be immune to any persuasion attempts. “Let me do it.” Then she added, as she met my incredulous stare. “Not because I want you to become the Machine Goddess. It is none of my business. But I do care for that dum-dum.”

Octavia could serve as a target. Probably. She was a case of a Former One who didn’t choose their immortality. Her friend, another musician called Vinyl Scratch, was a huge fan of zebra alchemy and tribal semi-arcane practices, such as the one known as ‘Mlezi Wa Familia’, a ‘Family Guardian’. Some Mlima zebra houses practiced binding limited memories of their soon-to-be deceased family members to the material world as advisors. When Manehattan began to burn, Vinyl used that ritual on her friend, but as Octavia put it, “cranked everything to twelve.” Now she was nearly permanently bound to this world as a ghost with full recollection of her life. In a sense, she was something between me and the now-gone magic of Princess Celestia.

It wasn’t a choice I wanted to make, and I suspected I knew the true reason why Trixie wanted to volunteer: it was a win-win situation for her. If I succeeded, then all would be good. If the Elements worked on her, then Starlight Glimmer was going to be released, though considering that Trixie had no organic body to return to, I wasn’t sure what would happen to her. Would the Elements be so kind as to give her a new body?

“We still don’t know if it will work,” I lamely commented, trying to change the topic.

“Of course it will,” Octavia snapped at me, “We slaved for a week over those dumb rocks, it has to.” Some of the donkeys must have rubbed off on her during her stay at Stalliongrad; nopony could be that stubborn.

However, I didn’t really have to choose. Regardless of who I asked to become a target, I would be at risk anyway. I needed to be near the Elements the moment they activated. I wasn’t entirely sure if the Elements would see me as a problem needed to be fixed, but in the case I somehow was clear in the eyes of Harmony, nothing bad would happen. Nothing would happen at all, in fact. Then I would have to choose either Trixie or Octavia.

“I will do it,” I stated in a stalwart voice. Managing both the spell and the torrent of energy aimed at me with possible ill intentions wouldn't be easy. Ironically, if the Elements were to give me an organic body, it technically would be a failure for me.

Two surprised faces turned to me.

“Are you sure?” Trixie worriedly asked, her face becoming concerned.

I was not. But we had no time to lose, no other chance.

So I gave her a reserved nod.

The chamber was deserted, and I knew that it was also true for at least a dozen rooms in every direction save for the furthest wall – Canterlot was on the other side of it. The Elements lay on a stand in front of me made of deaf arcanium, waiting… menacingly.

I was afraid, but I wasn’t sure of what exactly. There were so many ways it could go wrong. We barely understood the Elements and we weren’t one hundred percent sure our additions would work – we couldn’t test them. At least the spell was copied from the crumpled paper it was written on to a tablet and checked at least a dozen times. But that didn’t mean it was correct and working; it wasn’t that different from the issue with the Elements.

I didn’t even know what would happen if something went wrong. What would happen to me? What would be the collateral damage?

There were only two things clear: it was a shot in the dark and there most likely wouldn’t be a second chance. It was fair in some sense – it would have been really strange and suspicious if the path leading to becoming a god was that easy. It was already easier than I expected it to be. Perhaps I was afraid of that.

Though it was a huge, no, enormous risk, I had barely talked with anypony. Delight knew about it, though didn’t really approve. However, she understood that under the current circumstances I didn’t (and wouldn’t) have an opportunity to polish the spell and make it less like a game of roulette. Sunset was aware and wished me luck, though with a strange expression in her eyes. Obviously Trixie and Octavia knew, and it took me a lot of effort to persuade them not to be in the same room with me. Neither Wire nor Flower were told, the latter still being impossible to meet face to face, though I was sure I caught a glimpse of her metal leg as I was trotting to this room. I didn’t talk with Spike, I still didn’t know how I could talk with him after all I learned. Rainbow was out of the Sky Palace, and Luna… she didn’t need to know. The Twelve readily encouraged me; of everyone with whom I talked, they were the only ones who didn’t have even the slightest hint of concern in their eyes. They had complete faith in their mother.

I deliberately avoided making it seem like I was saying my farewells ‘just in case’ to those who I knew and cared about, but it still appeared so. I, myself, couldn’t shake that feeling off.

Moving a step closer to the Elements filled the empty room with echoes of my hooves. The Elements, something I was proud to wear once, were an intimidating sight for me now. Without realizing it, I had ended up on the other side of their power.

Shaking my head, I took one more step forward, then another and another, until I was about two lengths from them. Waiting wasn’t going to fix anything; the spell wouldn’t cast itself. If anything, Trixie, Octavia and Delight would grow impatient or start worrying and come to see how things were going, which wasn’t something I needed in the middle of the ritual nor before it.

Two objects were levitated in the air by my magic: a small pouch full of fine attuned arcanium dust and a tablet. I began to pour the dust on the floor, copying the amplifying and dampening runes in specific places, to equalize my magic output. Soon, most of the floor was covered in thin glimmering lines, dimly reflecting my magic. Some grains rose in the air to follow my telekinesis, drawn to it.

Everything was ready, the only remaining step was to cast the spell and then… to survive, I guess. Suddenly, becoming a goddess seemed more like a bonus, rather than a goal.

We designed the spell in a modern, non-verbal manner, so the only sound permeating the ominous silence was the faint hum of my magic. Before long, the rustle of the magic metal, carried by the arcane winds around me, began its song as my output began to rise up. Rune after rune, layer after layer the spell was weaved, the pink glow around me and the Elements darkening, starting to bubble with inky black and green, wisps of red becoming a web connecting each part to another.

By that time, the entire room was filled with the steady roar of energy barely contained. My body, the Elements, the criss-crossed floor and the air itself laden with arcanium dust were shining brightly, blinding for organic eyes.

It was time to activate the Elements. Even if they wouldn’t work on me, the build-up of the spell was so strong that releasing it would cause considerable damage to the room and everything inside it, starting with me.

The Elements began to glow, and an iridescent beam of energy rushed in my direction. I felt the spell absorbing it, redirecting all the power into itself. Suddenly, a horrifying realization struck me. Trixie had been abiding to the other set of rules for centuries and I had cast so many different spells in my life that I almost never thought about the most basic things... like never directing a spell into itself. In a desperate panic, I began to change the direction of the torrent, breaking the loop, but changing the spell on the fly wasn’t easy. My mind almost went into a lockdown when I tried to calculate a possible outcome of funneling the Elements’ power into itself.

I began to feel and hear my porcelain plates cracking, the magic around me was becoming overwhelming, the spell overcharging. Currently, there were three outcomes for it, none guaranteeing my survival. The only thing I could come up with was to redirect the spell into the nearest ley line, hoping for the best, which I hurriedly did.

But nothing changed, if anything the destructive torrent around me was becoming stronger. I fell to one knee, still maintaining the spell, feeling an immense, an impossible amount of power washing over me. The ceramic plates began to explode, my body was shining from heat now, not magic, but I witnessed that only for a single moment, before my eyes melted away. Then I could hear nothing.

Releasing the spell now would wipe out more than just a dozen rooms, it would make a stone stump out of the Sky Palace.

It was another huge mistake…

I began to feel something: my crystals shattering, my soul gems.

Having only a few seconds to live I grasped at all that power trying to contain it, to disperse it into a ley line one more time, but it was too late.

I felt absolutely nothing. But at the same time, I realized it wasn't a dream. I couldn't tell if it was my total lack of senses of reality around me or just an absence of reality itself. "Is reality defined by our senses alone? Does the world go beyond our limited perception? What are we are supposed to rely on to know what is real and what is not?"

Was I dead? Actually dead this time, not stored in the recording crystals along with the day-to-day ramblings of a scientist with sharp frozen shards for her heart.

I could still cogitate, but with nothing to see, hear or sense at all, it was incredibly hard to focus on a single thought. Either all my sensors were gone and my body had been reduced to nothing but a pile of cracked crystals, still miraculously granting me my preternatural existence; or I had no physical form anymore. Did I become like Octavia or Trixie, a magic apparition?

With no senses at all, I had no way to say how much time passed or even when it started to pass. There was no beginning and no end, just nothingness. I was but a thought suspended in the void.

I was thinking, therefore I existed.

What if I stopped thinking, would I be gone? Would I be resurrected again, either from the same crystals or another batch? I remembered making lots of them. Those new Twilights would have to start from the beginning… I didn’t envy them, especially considering that, though it was hard to believe, they would end up in a worse world than that which I left behind. Would they follow the same path I did?

Suddenly, I could feel something, a presence. I wasn’t alone in the void.

In the darkness a mote of golden light, an incandescent grain of sand, soared like a comet towards me. Or it could be crawling, there was nothing but that speck of sunlight in the blackness, nothing to compare it with. It could be the sun itself. My eyes didn’t move, didn’t focus, I couldn’t take a better look or turn away. I could only witness.

Time passed. Or maybe it didn’t, I couldn’t tell. But the shining dot was a dot no longer, it was a glowing equine silhouette made of dots, golden dust.

I knew Princess Celestia wasn’t a goddess, but for some reason I thought of her. I wanted that figure to be her coming for me, taking me with herself. I had so much to do, but I wanted to rest… So tired of that nightmare, though I couldn’t deny that I was among its many writers.

As suddenly as the golden equine appeared, it stopped. Perhaps it never moved; it could have been there all along. I couldn’t tell if it was big or small – I was a thought, I had no dimensions. Everything was so surreal, I was starting to lose sense of myself.

It wasn’t a voice that I heard, but my thoughts being thought by someone else.

“We thought razing Neighponia would serve as a warning, but you ponies never learn...”

No words left my mouth, for I had none, but my question, “What?” was read from my mind and my thoughts were shaped into an answer as if it was always there.

“You sought to become one of us, but that path is forbidden.”

Pieces of the puzzle began to come together in my mind, albeit very slowly. I wasn’t dead, I was… somewhere. I was ‘talking’ with one of the Old Gods, they were real after all. Neighponia… it was destroyed, that I knew. Now I also had an idea why. Panic grasped my mind at the implications of that fact. If an entire country was turned into a ruin for what neighponians did, what would become of Canterlot for my insolence?

“Those fools wanted power for themselves, they challenged us, devised the tools: a hammer, a blade and a hoof shoe to break Harmony through a heart of the Dead One. We put out every forge, slayed every smith, buried every mine,” words without voice, messages without letters came to be in my mind. “You are no different, you wrote a spell. Every parchment will be burned, every horn will be broken, every school will be leveled to the ground.”

Everything in my mind became fear, a desire to run, but I had no place to run to, no hooves. Only the impending doom of the divine wrath that I wouldn’t witness – I was already dead. Harmony wasn’t the only warden, it could only prevent the emergence of gods within itself, not if the aspirants used non-conventional magic. But there were still no new gods, even with that path open.

“I’m not the same! I seek no power!” I became a mental scream etched into dread.

“Why reach for the core then?” the question was left in my consciousness.

“I want to become the Machine Goddess, to protect my children, the equinoids,” I thought of the answer, hoping that it meant something to the being for whom all mortals were just that – insignificant creatures perishing into oblivion before we could be noticed.

There was a pause, no question and no answer burned into my mind.

Then, a voice, a real sound I could hear, deep and powerful, yet gentle like sand rustling in a sunset breeze, came:

“You are wrong. We care.”

Now that I had a body, a glowing purple magic outline, I could compare myself with the entity standing in front of me. Though I could feel myself standing as well, I dared not move a muscle (or whatever I had), because there was still nothing but void around and I couldn’t sense what was underneath me, save for it being solid.

The golden figure was resembling a Saddle Arabian horse, tall and majestic, made of swirling sand, carrying exotic spicy scents and the distinct sensation of being under a blazing sun. Even with my limited knowledge, it wasn’t hard to guess that I was graced by the presence of a Dune Dervish.

Despite not really having any need (at least none obvious to me) to speak aloud or give me a body to listen, the Dune Dervish, neither a stallion nor a mare, was reading my thoughts as if they were an open book, spoke:

“Yes, we are.”

“Why I… you…” I muttered, confused.

The situation went from ‘incomprehensible, though I’m likely dead’ to ‘everything is very bad, I’m certainly dead’, and now was ‘I have no idea if it’s the first one or the second’.

“We are the ones of many whom you call the Old Gods”, the Dervish (Dervishes?) explained. “Each of us watches over our mortal kin, and we won’t tolerate any threat.” There was no expression in the Old God’s voice, but somehow I knew it was a warning. “The so-called equinoids can become one, but we have no right to wipe out a nation just out of fear.”

“What about Neighponia?” I noted, trying to sound neutral. The hypocrisy was blatant.

“Know your place.” The Dervishes glared at me, a pair of glowing eyes drilling into my very being. “The Neighponese trespassed the red lines. Now they are scattered, not gone.”

That was true. Though their very land was rendered uninhabitable for all I knew, the neighponese prevalence in Canterlot was obvious, especially in the Outer City, where their establishments dominated over other places.

“Those metal ponies are… peculiar,” the Dervishes continued after reprimanding me, musing, looking into the void above me. “Neither mortal, nor immortal. The others are wary about equinoids.” It took me a few moments to realize that ‘the others’ meant the Old Gods, not just mortals. “Those newcomers need an eye to watch over them. To watch them.” A golden gaze fell on me. “Perhaps you can be given a chance if your intentions are true.”

“T-thank you,” I stammered, bowing me head in gratitude, immense relief washing over me in waves. It was going much better than I had hoped.

“Your every move will be observed, make no mistake,” the Dervishes commented in a hard cold voice, reminding me that they could read my mind and that I was still a trespasser in their eyes, a potential threat.

That made me think of some of their previous words. With the imminent threat passed, my curiosity began to worm its way into my priorities, “How many others are there?”

“Enough,” came a curt answer. I couldn’t help but here a subtle hint of discontent in it. Maybe more than enough, or perhaps I was one too many.

“Why did only you come?” was my next question. Saddle Arabia was very far away, though I didn’t mind the Dune Dervishes meeting me... wherever I was now. I doubted I would have been glad to make acquaintance with the Elder Ones of rams and goats.

“A pony was our friend once,” the Dervishes replied, their shining eyes half-lidded, “the Sun Princess.”

As much as I was surprised, I was saddened by that reminder. Princess Celestia was a frequent guest of the distant desert nation, indeed. I wondered if the Dervishes knew or cared about me being her former pupil if they were reading my mind now. They had to know, to hear it from me anyway, “She is gone now.”

“We know.” The elegant golden horse bowed their head. “It is a shame her work was never finished,” they added quietly.

“Her work?” I echoed, tilting my head. Somehow, I knew it wasn’t about diplomatic relations or trade agreements.

“The Sun Princess was trying to better Harmony, extend its rules, create exceptions,” the Dervishes clarified. “She made an alicorn, though not true, and planned to make one more.”

I was taken a bit aback by that knowledge. It was as disturbing as it was curious, the fact that Cadence was ‘made’. I always thought she was Princess Celestia’s descendant (which wasn’t contradicting that news, only making it a bit more weird). Also, who was that other planned alicorn?

Instead I asked, “You mean Princess Cadence?” I still struggled to fathom why our conversation was ‘normal’, instead of the Dervishes directly prying both answers and questions from my consciousness. Perhaps it was respect, I was treated as an equal. Or maybe it was just to prevent me from becoming too confused. I felt better sanity-wise, but still uncomfortable.

“Names mean nothing to us,” the Dervishes said in an indifferent tone, letting me know that while they cared for the ponies for the sake of their past friend, mortal affairs were below their attention.

An uneasy silence took reign. I had so many questions to ask, as per usual, but the ironic coldness of the desert gods and their laconic answers promised me no satiation of my appetite for knowledge. Also, pestering the gods with inquiries felt wrong, dangerous even.

The Dervishes suddenly spoke, “Before we leave, there is something that you should know. Regardless of your success, the ponies will suffer. The Windigos lured by their follies brought great woe to many, and those who protect them will seek vengeance on ponykind and anyone who stands by them.”

Those who protect. That warning was very ominous, concerning me greatly. It was fair, however. Instead of trying to fathom who else but Canterlot and the Crystal Empire could be suffering from the deadly cold winters, I asked the question of greater importance.

“What should I do?” The only way to stop the Windigos from ravaging the land was to remove them somehow, which was a problem I had no idea how to possibly solve. If even the Old Gods were powerless...

“It is up to you, the Machine Goddess,” the Dervishes threw over their shoulder as they trotted away, leaving in their wake golden hoofprints full of sand, dissipating into the nothingness around us.

“Can’t you give me any advice?” I desperately called after the departing deities, though I knew I risked annoying them.

Only the void was around me, the last shining grain gone without a trace.

Then, inside my head I half-heard, half-read:

“You have to choose.”

Without the golden glow of the dreadful and beautiful divine being, the darkness of the nowhere I was at felt even more suffocating and absolute. My body was still an outline glowing with purple magic. I raised my hoof before my face to take a better look at it, and to my surprise I was met with lines of runes and numbers – code. I could even read it if I wanted.

That reminded my why I was there. Not in the sense of my goal, though that was true as well. I tried to reach for the power of the arcane core, and if the Dervishes were right (which I didn’t dare to doubt), I succeeded, hence they appeared and cut me off before I could wield it. Now that I was given liberty to try and live up to the title I had taken for myself, it was time to try to finish the job I started.

Not having a horn was confusing and making my attempts to sense and feel the magic around me very hard, but not impossible. The result was… interesting. Magic was all around me, and I was an inseparable part of that endless ocean of arcane energy. However, it wasn’t homogenous. There were different currents which I missed at first. There was a bottom.

It was the core, an enormous mass of arcanium, twisting time and space, flaring up with erratic, chaotic heartbeats sending protuberances of raw power crashing into an invisible wall. Harmony was separating that primal magic from the rest of the planet, containing the source of energy so potent that it could make an individual forever tear celestial bodies from their orbits. And I was going to tap into it.

The spell was still working, time and matter not important this close to the core, despite Harmony. The disrupted ley line was bleeding, the wound cut in it by the ritual allowing me to slip into it, to go down that blood vessel of the planet’s magic heart like a vicious parasite.

That pure magic, undiluted by Harmony, was unlike anything I had ever experienced. Nothing came close to that feeling of absolute power. But as amazing it was, I could feel how it was unrelenting. I had to cut off the torrent I was drinking from almost instantly. It was wild, it was destructive. Though those who could wield magic before Harmony knew no limits, they were so few, and not for lack of trying. It was deadly dangerous.

The core was now fueling me. I could feel that link established. It was stronger than Harmony, stronger than anything, save for the freezing hunger of space. Though it was reduced to a tiny trickle, I knew that I was more powerful than any mage I had ever met, their abilities only a weak shadow of what I was capable of.

I was a goddess now.

Yet the moment that thought came to my mind, a realization came to me: no, I wasn’t. There were no gods in this world. Only mages – some strong, some not. The Old Gods were mortals once, like I was, and we could only do so much, embrace only a fraction of the core’s power with our fragile mortal minds. Even if we were to fully control every pulse of that power, we would still be bound to it, depending on it to be omnipotent and immortal. Ironically, the Windigos were the closest to being actual gods, because they didn’t depend on the power of this world. But the universe wasn’t a speck of peculiar metal suspended in space. It was endless. Trying to let it inside the mind even for a fraction of a second would be irreparably devastating, leaving nothing behind but the imprint of endless hunger and the cold void.

My magic wasn’t without limit, it would never be, but on the scale of that world, compared to the lives and capabilities of others, it was far beyond reach. Anyhow, it wasn’t the amount of power that was important, but how it was applied.

Guided by that thought, I grasped the ley line, but instead of reaching for its origin, I allowed it to carry me back to where I came from.

The loud clatter of countless fallen things signified my arrival into Tin Flowers shack. Before returning to the Sky Palace, I had to think. That place seemed the best to be undisturbed for a while, and it also felt right to start from there again.

I was materialized as a formless mass of magic in the middle of her workshop. Wielding magic, especially that wild, without a horn or need for spells, just my will, was strange. I was quickly getting used to it, though. My body took the form I was most familiar with – a young unicorn mare. I realized that if I wanted, I could have an organic body again, but it would just be a caprice, rather than something really needed. I didn’t even bother to make my ghost form a precise replica of my first body.

My entrance was explosive, but it couldn’t have caused all that devastation. The TCE did come there, after all, rummaging through every container, turning everything upside down.

The violent wind was howling through the holes in the walls of Flower’s squalid shelter. It was night outside, just like it was when I first awoke here. If I paid enough attention to the dirty floor, I could see dust stuck to the oily spot.

The door creaked pitifully and fell off, my gentle nudge, preceded by the rude entrance of the TCE sniffers, becoming the tipping point. Rust scrunched under my ethereal hooves as I climbed higher and higher, following the steps of my previous two bodies.

The hill brought me to the view I saw so many times before, though it never ceased to amaze me. The city of the future... a future tomb. The whole evacuation was a joke. It was coming too late. The inhabitants of Canterlot who had at least some sense took too long to realize that their train was going off the rails and couldn’t be stopped. But the fare collectors weren’t going to let a single soul leave it until the price was paid: a life for a ticket.

No evacuation was going to take place. It would be a jailbreak.

I could change that, turn the TCE quarters into dust. But would my first act as a goddess be bringing the heavens upon those I thought to be wrong? How would it be different from what Spike did?

How many good ponies are out there? Tell me.

Who was I to judge? Might didn’t mean right.

But if I kill a good pony, nothing bad happens. If I kill a rapist or a murderer, they won’t commit a crime again. They all would have died anyway, their lives never meant anything.

It wasn’t the way. But the way I lived and acted before wasn’t the correct one either.

The scenery of Canterlot didn’t change, save for the dark silhouette of Stalliongrad. I could also see the gaping wound my ascension left on the surface of the Sky Palace – I contained the energy, but not immediately, and some of it spilled out, obliterating the stone, melting it like butter.

However, it was no longer an intimidating sight shocking me to the core. It was my home once, and it was my home again, because it was the place where my friends were. Tin Flower, Red Wire, Clandestine Delight and many others, the ponies who each showed me a part of this city, making it a place I knew as well as them. Even those who I couldn’t call friends influenced me no less. As much as they all were part of Canterlot, they were also part of the solution to the riddle I had been trying to solve time after time, since the moment I first stepped on this hill, but was never content with the answer.

How did it come to this?

Spike was the last one who I demanded to unravel that mystery for me. I asked my son the same question over and over, when in fact he answered it before I began to interrogate him.

It was my choice.

Equestria was a land of freedom now, ruled not by those who were privileged to have more power by the design of Harmony (though their rule being granted was never part of the great plan). It was ruled by equals, but that wasn’t important to the answer, not directly. Everypony, every creature had a choice now. That was what mattered.

That conclusion, however, called for the next logical question: why did the ponies choose that? The ponies had a choice and they chose nightmare. There were insane creatures inhabiting this place, that was true, I had seen enough of them in the dark paths beneath the earth. But not everyone was asinine, and only a lunatic would point their hoof at a nightmare when they had an alternative, a better choice.

That was where the catch was.

The easiest case was when there was no better choice. Rainbow had to choose between death and serving an enemy; either way she was going to lose. Life wasn’t what we wanted, it wasn’t even what happened to us, but how we reacted to it. Rainbow bit the bullet and began to work, doing the job that killed the remains of the pony in her, but saving Canterlot as a result, even if temporarily.

The easiest, however, didn’t mean it was easy at all. Making a world where not a single creature would ever have to choose between two losing scenarios was a task beyond any being, no matter how powerful. But even if that was to be, it wouldn’t fix anything, for having a better alternative didn’t mean it would always be chosen.

It was easy for me, a ‘goddess’, who lived two lives, saw two timelines, to make reasonable conclusions. I could see things clearly now. I had an experience not many can relate to. Yet even with all that, I wouldn’t dare to call my every step true and leading to only victory.

Sometimes, it was impossible to predict the consequences of an action. I could have never guessed that allowing Flim and Flam to make an industrial and trade conglomerate would lead to the Crystal Empire becoming a harvesting facility. I thought I was choosing the right thing; everything pointed to that. It was an alternative to trying to handle the crashing economy and satiate the war’s hunger by ourselves. It wasn’t a better one, as it was discovered, but it was too late by that time.

I was absolutely sure, if Queen Chrysalis knew that successfully invading Canterlot was equal to marching into a gilded cage surrounded by murderous beasts, she would have never considered that option. But she was desperate and afraid, which was the last part of the answer to my questions.

It was easy for me to sit down and choose for others, not feeling what they felt, not being in their horseshoes. Princess Luna was blinded by her burning desire to prove her worth by avenging her sister. Rainbow Dash and Spike abandoned any logic, any morality, moved by dread, guilt and bitterness. That list was much longer than the list of those who had made a choice with unforeseeable results. Sunset, Queen Chrysalis… even my name was on it. My grief.

Our hearts won against logic.

Unfortunately, it was something natural, a reverse of a coin. It was the price for having emotions, for being more than a machine. Even equinoids, artificial beings, were still victims of that bargain. As a goddess, as a creator of their code, their very souls, I could absolve them of that flaw. Rip out their hearts and make them into the arcane golems they were always considered. But that would be stealing the entire world from them, the ability to feel, love and hate. They would be clockwork apples, living on the outside, but nothing other than mechanisms on the inside, ultimately making no sense with their existence.

What would a choice be worth if there was no emotion to it, no gamble? A mathematical function aimed at finding the best solution, an optimal course of action leading to… what? We were specks of meat and the tiniest sparkles of magic on a mote of dirt soaring through the deadly void of the uncaring universe. Were we simply existing for the sake of existing? Even if that was true, we still had lives to live. There was no final goal, no ultimate reason, but the one we chose for ourselves with our feelings.

However, all that couldn’t justify the nightmare in front of me. It couldn’t be an excuse. It was still a problem of catastrophic proportions.

The mess Equestria had become couldn’t be fixed. The situation was too tangled, the corruption going too deep. Ponies, equinoids, kirins, neighponese, zebras… many nations were going to start anew. But if that nightmare happened once, it could happen again. Rainbow was right – everything, no matter how significant, would be forgotten, the river of time had no mercy. There had to be a way to prevent a second Canterlot.

It was all returning to the only thing that mattered: choice.

I could become a goddess ruling equinoids with a proverbial iron hoof, making them subdue the organic population of Canterlot. Many equinoids would gladly do that. I had the power to be loved and feared. In truth, the equinoids needed so little to overcome any others and make them kneel. But would I rob the power to take action from the masses I claimed to protect? Pushing my sense of justice and my own ideals onto someone was nothing but an exercise in self-righteousness.

That was why they needed me. By becoming the Machine Goddess, by embracing it, not just claiming the title, I would solve the issues of both equinoids and ponies. Titles meant nothing in the end; Luna proved it with her story. Only actions mattered. I didn’t have to leave anypony behind, I didn’t have to care only for artificial life.

Neither of them ever needed a ruler, malevolent or benevolent. The Old Gods were so subtle, so elusive that they were but legends. They were a choice, because directly influencing their subjects would be stealing any freedom. I wasn’t even going to guide equinoids, only protect them… from things who sought power for the sake of power. I was going to become their Harmony – the great enchantment was a ‘god’ in its own right. Perhaps it was the Old Gods of ponies, who decided to remove any emotions from their decisions, becoming a machine-like mind, able to calculate and evaluate, but not truly care, impartially distributing magic and cutie marks.

The solution was there all the time, right under my nose.

I was thinking a lot about those who made a choice leading to suffering, those who, guided by emotions, without realizing it, wandered into a nightmare of their own making. But there were those who had made another choice.

Red Wire, Clandestine Delight... But most importantly, the equinoids I met: Braze, Adamant Smash…

They saw reason, refused to succumb to loathing or bitterness. Finding a purpose in life wasn’t the opposite to making mistakes because of emotions. The virtue was a desire to make the world a better place coming from the very heart of an individual. The now-gone Equestrian diarchy was a mistake because it didn’t really allow anypony to choose virtue. The material things and beings left no alternative but to abide by the rules. It didn’t mean that without a stick and a carrot ponies couldn’t choose virtue. After all, it would always be a better choice than vice, which not always but often came with a price.

There was no way to force virtues and make them stick in a society, at least permanently. They had to be a choice like anything else. However, I now had the ability to offer an alternative to every equinoid and to make it obvious, unobscured by emotions without removing them. The ones who could truly change the world weren’t the rulers and their rules, but people.

My purpose as the Machine Goddess lay in bringing every equinoid who wished so into the Unity, a network powered by the Prime Code with me as its soul, the Nexus. Every member of the Unity would see the virtues and flaws of the others, would have a choice, a better alternative. Of course, it would be naive to believe that every equinoid would choose virtue over a flaw, but, as much as they (and Moondancer) had faith in me, I believed in them being better themselves. The Unity would not let them forget the consequences of any choice, good or bad.

It would be a society of empathy, where not a single equinoid would be able to hurt another without feeling that pain. They would understand each other, feel and know every feeling and thought. It would be a society with a choice, and it would be an example for organic life, for ponies.

Unlike the Princesses, it wouldn’t be an ideal unreachable by definition. The equinoids were children of mortals, their creations. The equinoids were made in the image and likeness of ponies, their very name meaning that. If anything, the Unity would be an object of envy, a challenge. A choice of empathy, freedom and purpose, something to strive towards.

It wasn’t a truth set in stone, an absolute solution for all woes of ponies and equinoids. It was another choice I had to make, guided by my faith, unable to foresee the consequences. The way we lived brought us only to ruin. We needed a change, even if that attempt would fail. I wasn’t a goddess, after all – the future would always remain a mystery to me.

But I knew what was going to happen next.

My footsteps echoed through the grave silence of the tunnel, disturbing the reddish dust and ashes which once could have become my last resting place. The incandescence from my shining body was lighting my path, the one I blindly charged before. I was no longer a metal frame puppeteered by the recording crystals or even an ethereal manifestation of the planet core’s chaotic fury. The equinoids had an image, an expectation of how their Holy Mother looked, and I wasn’t going to disappoint them.

My body was a living statue. With my magic coming from the arcanium core, I could also feel any slivers of the arcane metal if I concentrated. They were like transmitters, echoing with the power within me and deep below. It took me no effort to call them from the soil and make arcanium submit to my will, covering with shining plates the swirling blazing sun of my flesh. The rusty cables and wires of the Junkyard became my mane, clinging like snakes, trying to grasp, even though it wasn’t corporeal, the golden halo surrounding me. My back legs were shards held together by magic, resembling those of the arcanium abominations from Dodge City.

I could sense the magic inside the crystals of the equinoid inhabiting these passages, though I could find a way to her by orienting to the smears of oil on the floor, my dark, undrying blood. I was also able to hear her, the clutter of scrap metal falling, followed by angry curses.

Brass Litany didn’t notice me at first, her attention focused on picking up the fallen, slightly less rusty than average metal junk. It was her holy mission, which was about to be over.

A piece of metal in her mouth had a patch of corrosion cleaned away, leaving a reflective spot. It was that tiny part of the half-decayed skull that readily became a mirror for my radiance, catching Litany’s eyes.

Brass Litany sharply turned to me and a moment later the scrap fell out of her mouth. Before the sound of the equinoid skull rolling across the floor died out, she joined it, bowing as low as she could, almost lying on the dirt, her chain-mane ringing like hundreds of bells.

I approached her, my tall figure towering over the kneeling equinoid, almost scraping the low ceiling. With my hoof I raised her head, the corrosion of her body fading away at my touch, her copper mane and tail becoming fire, her steel skin reflecting my shine with an immaculate polish. My magic touched hers, the enchantments comprising the being known as Brass Litany contained inside the soul gems.

BLD-003.745.MK-44 – standard builder model with a hardened frame. Brass Litany had an artificial memory of working as a part of mechanized construction crew at the Inner City. Then came her own experience. Her owner was greedy and more than once missed the scheduled crystal clearing. She began to despise her risk-filled life, longing for freedom. The rest of the crew, sixteen other equinoids shared her dream of their lives being their own. One of those misty neon nights, they decided to break their chains, to run away into the Tunnels. Only Brass Litany made it underground, witnessing how her friends either were deactivated to have their memories erased or were killed the other way, their bodies turned into scrap metal and their crystals into dust. She, broken and hysterical, was met in the darkness by Alnico Sermon, his sweet promises placating her, turning her pain into righteous rage, into purpose. But those were lies. There was another way. She wasn’t given a choice, it was stolen from her.

Not anymore.

“Go, my child, and tell them to gather,” I said softly, smiling. “Your mother is returning home.”

Author's Notes:
As I warned, it took longer than usual for that chapter to be edited and you can see why. The next and final chapter is just as long, though I think its possible for it to be done a bit sooner, so the story will be finished before the next year comes.
While the editing goes on I not only struggle with hardships of my life – there is a new story in making! No ETA yet, and there is not much to tell it so far, except I'm trying to write it differently from my other stories style-wise.
Aftersound Project Discord server - it's a little community dedicated to discussion of the story and whatnot. Everyone is welcome to join.
Pony Tales, a quite welcoming place dedicated to disscussing and working on many great stories (now including Aftersound). I think you may also find it interesting.
If you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know.
I hope you enjoyed reading this story so far.
Stay awesome.

Chapter 21 – The Machine Goddess

Aftersound

=================================

Written by:

Flutterfinar & Geka

Preread and edited by:

Cover art done by:

=================================

The Machine Goddess

====================

Without a single sound or any other sign, I materialized at the Sky Palace, amidst the molten stone and metal. It was inconsequential whether it was the aftermath of the spell working properly or not. The gaping maw in the side of the solemn Crown’s citadel was not as big as the entire precaution zone, but considerable enough to become a noticeable blemish on the gray walls, a wound drooling liquified dross.

The reason for my stealthy approach was the other visitors of the incident site. Trixie and Octavia were sitting near the edge of the artificial cave, gazing at the city. At Trixie’s side I could see an inseparably welded mass of burnt porcelain, plastic and metal, sparkling with crystal shards. At Octavia’s side were the Elements, cracked, dull and marred with something black.

This high, the winds of the stormy sky were howling their lamenting song freely, trying to tear at the ethereal manes of the Former Ones, but to no avail. I sat with them, wordlessly watching the city teeming with life, like nothing happened, though unintentionally I had made part of the Church’s prophecy true. A hole in the home of the infallible arcanium-clad soldiers should cause some reaction, but it seemed no one cared.

Looming unnoticed behind those who accompanied me on my final steps of mortality, I could hear the conversation which started before my arrival.

“...I don’t know, Tavi,” Trixie mused aloud. “Sometimes she acted like Twilight’s carbon copy, talking and acting the way she used to when we worked together. But what she told me at the Junction and some other things… it made me think.” She fell silent for a few moments, letting the sounds of the city living its last days of relative peace and the hum of nearby soaring hovercrafts fill the pause. “I could have said that I don’t recognize her, but I didn’t know her before the Great War, so perhaps it’s just how she was. I’m going to miss her anyway, she was a great mare, if not my friend.”

Was Trixie right? Many of those who knew me and I, myself, were making that distinction: Twilight before the war and after. It was sad to define my life by the tragedy. Whether it was true or not, I had changed again, or had I? Could I call myself the new Twilight, the one who is the Machine Goddess?

Still oblivious to my presence, the conversation between the two ethereal mares continued, Octavia saying, “What now?”

Trixie hesitated with her answer, and only after letting out a deep sigh muttered, shaking her head, “I don’t know.”

“What were you going to do if she succeeded?” Octavia pressed on.

“I don–”

Trixie was cut off with a quippish warning, “Say it one more time and I will push you off the edge.”

“You’ll be the one who has to repair my body, the Crown has better things to do now,” Trixie snapped back.

For a full minute their arcanium silhouettes were silently reflecting the glow of the Inner City, bustling with activity even in the middle of the night. Absentmindedly I thought that Luna might have liked it. Well, if Princess Celestia were still alive; it would have only made sense in that long gone order of things.

“Do you think we will have a place in this new Equestria?” Trixie quietly asked no one in particular. “Do you think they will accept something like us if they start from scratch?”

“If we weren’t accepted here before, then we won’t be accepted anywhere, ever,” came the disgruntled answer from the mare at her side.

“Yet you went to all that trouble to help Canterlot,” Trixie noted in a slightly aggravated tone, reminding Octavia about all the time she had to spend without her close friend.

“It is not about how I am treated, it is about what I do,” the former musician retorted in a hard voice. “It was never between me and them, it always was between me and myself. I didn’t want to see my hometown like this.”

The bitter tone in Octavia’s voice couldn’t escape my attention. I was wrong about the citizens of Canterlot not having enough sense to notice how the entire city was heading to its demise. But she was a single mare, and in the end she was too late as well. At least she tried, risked everything to fix things. She was aware of that herself; the city was fated to die no matter what.

“Remember how we travelled across Equestria?” Trixie perked up. “Visited the ruins of cities?”

“Um-hum,” Octavia nodded, sounding a bit confused, her sorrowful reverie broken.

“Do you think ponies returned there? We visited a settlement on our way to the Badlands.”

A settlement which was turned into ash.

“Maybe,” Octavia answered slowly and cautiously, but as she continued I could hear clear enthusiasm appearing in her voice, “I’ve heard Baltimare became a griffin nest, so the magic that destroyed some of the biggest cities must be mostly gone.”

My eyes closed, but not in the physical sense, I didn’t need them anymore to see. I was looking at the magic permeating every object, the network of ley lines enveloping every corner of the world. Canterlot was a solid mass of arcane energy, countless creatures and devices feeding on the almost sapless veins. I gazed beyond that, far in the distance, and there I saw the tiniest motes of light clinging to the trunks of the filtered core’s power. None of them were even close to matching Canterlot’s hungry brilliance. Only a few of them were giving the impression of settlements bigger than Ponyville. However, they existed.

Canterlot was the last city, but not the last settlement. Their journey wouldn’t be for naught.

“Then my job is not done yet. They need to find their way home. Their new home,” Trixie spoke, her tone sounding resolute and confident for the first time in the conversation. “It will be like the old times.”

“It will never be like the old times, Trix,” Octavia whispered and leaned into Trixie’s side. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t like your idea.”

I began to fade away. They didn’t need me. They made their choice.

...The magic fueling their hearts full of unquenchable fire was neither of Harmony, nor of the arcanium core – an enigma...

For me, now an entity able to read all the arcane secrets of this world, it was still a mystery. Invisible and incorporeal, I was circling it, probing at and touching the inferno contained by itself. It wasn’t of this world, but it wasn’t alien either. I could feel the taste of primal magic, the unmistakable reality-bending tanginess of arcanium, but it was in the background, nothing more than a residue.

Spike’s heart was before me, suspended in the maelstrom of magic Canterlot was, feeding the life in him like no life-support machine could. Fire, blazing without fuel, but still readily consuming everything save for its master. Princess Celestia was able to enchant it, making it not just burn and blind, but send letters to the Sun herself.

My proverbial eyes widened, and I clung to that orb of jade flame again, carefully tapping into it, remembering how it felt. Then I rushed up, through the metal, through layer after layer of concrete, a ghost in another reality. The somber gray clouds were left behind me and the endless blue sky embraced my immaterial existence. Though I stopped, my magic did not, it was only speeding up, reaching further and further until it touched the light in the void, the only star which didn’t belong to the night.

It was the same as the tiny ember smoldering inside the ravaged ribcage.

Out of this world, yet not. If a ‘god’ could mess with the delicate movement of the celestial bodies, what would have stopped them from dipping an arcane ladle into the well of absolute light, the first fire, and molding a life out of it?

I plummeted down and stopped only when my gaze fell on the dying body kept alive by that miniature star against any rules. The winter was coming, and it would extinguish any sunrays. If I didn’t want this room to become a frozen tomb containing my son’s remains, I had to think of something.

...we aren’t sure about the Transference Effect in dragons…

What was the Transference Effect?

It was the limitation which killed me once. Only a few were able to overcome it, and only by paying a dire price. A consciousness couldn’t be transferred into an artificial body, yet it could be built from a primer of false recollections inside. My magic reached out, searching, looking for those few ponies who were staying at the Sky Palace. With Delight’s metamorphosis, only those who were affected by the Transference Paradox to some degree remained the guests of the Swarm. They were exactly what I needed.

Roche Dust, Wire’s mother, was dangerously close to becoming a victim to the worst implications of the Transference Paradox. Artificial lungs, a dozen metal bones intermingling with organic ones, tubes and wires… Almost everything in her chest cavity was replaced by prosthetics, lots of them. But that was something material, which was only the tip of the iceberg of what comprised the world. I needed to see the other side of things.

The world became an intricate tapestry of energy born from the chaos of its core, twisting and warping everything into a miracle of life and magic. And there it was, the answer I sought.

Luna mentioned it before, when she was treating Flower’s strange wound. The triad of a physical vessel, the magic from the core and the entity in between them, an inseparable and undefinable component connecting the two, making a creature a being, not just a meat golem animated by magic.

Harmony could calculate and evaluate, but not truly care. A missing limb didn’t make a pony a lesser being, that Harmony could see. But replacing it with an artificial counterpart powered by magic counted as if its owner had gotten more magic by some means, so the body would get less of it from Harmony – the output for everypony must always be limited and equalized, after all. Without magic an entity would begin to collapse, leaving only an empty body behind.

It was so simple, so elegant, hidden in plain sight.

The equinoids weren’t affected by the Transference Paradox because they had no relation to Harmony. To it they were nothing but artifacts, even though they had life. In essence, they were an unconventional magic manifested into sapient beings evading the great enchantment. Inadvertently, the equinoids broke the rules limiting those bound to Harmony.

It was a very welcome revelation, but right now only one implication mattered to me: the sun was beyond Harmony. The Transference Paradox in dragons couldn’t exist.

My arcanium body materialized in front of the composite hospital bed, and a pair of emerald eyes, matching in color the flame giving them life, locked on me.

“Spike,” I greeted him.

He didn’t answer me outright, calmly studying my appearance.

“So, you did it,” he rumbled at last, his voice too deep to carry any intonation, though I thought I heard a hint of discontent.

“You don’t approve?”

“I didn’t say that,” Spike retorted. “Have you come to say goodbye? I know that I let you down.”

Did he know about the evacuation and that he was bound to those machines, bound to Canterlot? Or did he think that now I was going to have another life, dedicated to my other children? He told me that I wasn’t Twilight, save for the magic, and now I didn’t have even that.

In any case, the thing that mattered was that he still cared for my opinion, that he admitted to betraying my teachings. Perhaps he even regretted his actions, but didn’t want to admit it. To admit his powerlessness to follow his mother’s path, to save the ponies of both the Crystal Empire and Canterlot, to save her.

“You made your choice,” I stated in a sympathetic tone, now understanding why.

Spike didn’t reply to me, just closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. If I wanted, I could go right into his mind, read his thoughts like the Dune Dervishes read mine, but there was no need. I didn’t want to take, I wanted to give.

“I have another option,” I said, already beginning to search for the slivers of arcanium sleeping deep in the soil underneath the city outskirts.

“Oh?” His eyes focused on me again, full of genuine curiosity this time.

Bringing my Number One Assistant in his current form (or any, for that matter) into the corridors of the Sky Palace would have caused panic, so I teleported him to the very top of it, where I would soon join him. I had a lot of work to do, to live up to my name. However, it wasn’t going to start under the city.

The changelings didn’t need to witness me, nor did my task require them to. Twelve equinoids were heading to their cradle from their posts right now, guided by a whisper only they could hear.

I waited for them at Moondancer’s room, Kismet idly levitated by my magic, her little porcelain hooves dangling in the air.

I remembered how my ravaged metal frame, the one I took from my animated corpse at the Archives, hugged their fragile ceramic bodies. What were bodies for equinoids? They could be modified, repaired, changed… lost. But the entity inside wouldn’t follow suit; it didn’t exist in the material plane. Equinoids were magic, they were code, not defined by their vessel. I was going to actually embrace them, meet my children like one of them, not a puppet meeting another puppet.

As I emerged from Moondancer’s quarters the Twelve stood in front of me, not speaking a word, for they knew, soon I would hear them.

It would take me some time to understand every variable and every rune of the Prime and non-Prime code, to know it like nothing else, like Luna knew her tapestry of the night sky. For now, I knew enough to take the seat that had waited for me since it was created.

My magic reached for their crystals, untangling the quasi-nexus they had, temporarily separating the Twelve for the first time in their lives, making them taste the bitter loneliness, bear the emptiness and silence inside their minds. Then I climbed into the throne of the Machine Goddess.

Faces, voices, scents rushed into my mind. The countless memories and dreams of my twelve firstborn. I saw Moondancer through their eyes. How she created them, how she sent them into the city to sow the seeds of prophecy I was fulfilling step after step. A bed with a frail body on it, clutching Kismet to her breast, until Moondancer let out her last breath. The years of waiting, longing to see their mother who died before they opened eyes and learned to think.

I felt faith, I felt love.

I felt an embrace and I returned it.

The power lent to me by the arcanium core was great, its limits coming disturbingly close to the limits of imagination. But a tool, no matter how potent, was of no use without the skill to wield it. In my previous life, I fancied myself a mage of greater than average ability, possessing the knowledge of many different spells. My talent was magic, it was the reason I still existed. Yet it didn’t matter anymore.

The energy flowing through me, in fact comprising me, wasn’t the magic I knew. It was something unfamiliar, responding not to incantations, but to force of will. In other words, I was a tool wielded by itself. That was something I had yet to not just master, but to comprehend all of its basics.

The equinoids of Canterlot were congregating, but not in a single place. There was not enough space underground to fit all the artificial equines, nor would all of them agree to stand side by side. The differences in rendering the prophecy were irreconcilable in some cases. Judging by the magic I could see amassing underground like swarms of fireflies, there were nine cathedrals serving as places where the equinoids were expecting to meet me.

Visiting each one after another seemed an option as good as any at first thought. However, as it was shared with the Twelve, they noted that the EquiNet could work against me. It could allow the equinoids from the other cathedrals to learn about my advent and rush to the place I was visiting, thus dispersing their numbers across the Tunnels. Also, going to each place would take a lot of time, a resource everyone in Canterlot was short on. Manipulating time was well within my power, but it was an option that could backfire in the most unexpected ways, and I wasn’t sure I could actually use it without practice.

It would take me some time before I mastered my strength, learned to use it in many ways. For now I had to… cheat. Or to be imaginative with the resources I had available.

Nine majestic creatures, neither gods nor machines, were shunning away the darkness of the Deep Tunnels with their radiance. I was one of them, or at least, one of those replicas had more of me guiding it than the others. I couldn’t be in nine places at once, but I didn’t need to be fully present. With me in the heart of the Unity, it had no distance limiting its connection, so I only needed proxies to carry my will and word like a torch to light the path for those who were lost in the Tunnels. The Twelve would become my... harbingers.

If the Unity was a medium for all the thoughts and memories to be shared, then what stopped me from keeping an entire equinoid in it? They were the same thing: mind in the form of magic. Twelve porcelain bodies were left at the place where they were created, the rose light of Moondancer’s magic gone from their eyes. One, Three and Eight were now like invisible spirits accompanying me, as if they were riding on my back.

In front of us, Spike was slithering across the damp stone, guiding us to his treasure trove, the most sacred thing for a dragon – his hoard.

When I told him my idea of the future I was going to bring, Spike listened to me carefully, asking me to pause from time to time, to think about my words. He didn’t hate ponies; he simply didn’t trust their actions and ultimately didn’t care for their lives and deaths because of that. But he remembered. He remembered me, his friends… Rarity. With the new order of things coming, he was willing to give ponies another chance, to stand by my side once again. Yet he refused to join the Unity.

“I will have to leave your side again,” he explained, extending his new limbs, squinting in obvious discontent at his claws, no longer razor-sharp knives. “My war in the Frozen North isn’t over yet.”

His form was like my physical representation, made of arcanium, the metal which so easily abided to my volition. Sleek and elegant, a design which resembled both the way Spike was and the path he followed now. Not a predator anymore, given the chance to be the hero he wanted to be, but still a dragon. Smooth plates covered sturdy, unbreakable bones, a nest of spokes to keep a sparkle of the heavens themselves. That miniature sun was surrounded by crystals, like planets circling the orb of fire in the heavens. The little star which Spike was for me.

Spike’s claws, no longer weapons to hunt down the ponies, but simply utilitarian parts of his limbs, were leaving shallow burrows on the stony floor. In the shadows I could see, as much as feel, the Accursed. Passing by each of them was tearing pity in my proverbial heart – their deteriorated minds were beyond any repair, yet I couldn’t bring myself to end their wretched existence. However, the mechanical inhabitants of the Deep Tunnels weren’t all that bothered me.

I remembered the time when I ended up in the unmarked territory of the Deep Tunnels, an ever-changing labyrinth devoid of any light, but full of dangers lurking in the breathing shadows. I could feel the constant magic background of some massive spell back then. Now I could feel that magic again, but it wasn’t exactly what I expected. It wasn’t a spell, but it was still focused energy, affecting everything with a purpose. I couldn’t say what that purpose was. There were no runes, no words. Nothing. It was like something willed the Deep Tunnels to be their chaotic way. There was even more – it wasn’t Harmony’s arcane energy, it was the pure power of the arcanium core.

I wasn’t the only ‘god’ in Canterlot.

How did you find the Temple of the Forgotten Deities?

That magic was like immaterial mist, permeating everything, but it had to have a beginning and an end. Leaving my avatar to mindlessly follow Spike, I began to follow the arcane influence, looking for its source.

If the new ‘gods’ weren’t born anymore, then who could it be? The Old Gods were few and they kept to their nations, though ponies weren’t the only race inhabiting Canterlot these days. The zebras and griffins had no such legend, unless they had forgotten their protectors. Llamas? One of the Elder Ones, perhaps? That could explain those antediluvian abominations shambling in the pitch-black corridors. But if that was true, thoughtless yet living flesh would be the least of the city’s worries.

Finally, my gaze seeing the underside of the physical world came to a place which was the epicenter of this colossal phantasmagory. A massive plate of dark limestone with a withered body resting on it. That made no sense.

A sudden movement by my side brought my attention. Though I should be unseen for anypony, a dozen gazes from round eyes, with pupils so small that they were barely visible, locked on me, cut cheeks under those insane eyes morphing into bloody and unnaturally wide smiles full of rotting sharpened teeth.

My magic reached for Pinkie Pie, and I felt something leave her, fleeing away before I could focus on it. Her body was… candied. However, something else had kept it in such pristine condition. I could feel the traces of that energy. Following them like breadcrumbs, I came to a pile of rubbish: broken pews and chunks of stone, peppered by the shards of crystal lanterns.

Before I could rummage through it, those lunatics with rigid grins trotted around me, like I was real for them, and began to clear the debris. Strangely, they all looked like earth ponies, though as I watched them, a morbid realization came to me – they were stallions and mares of all races, but with the wings and horns cut off, leaving ugly scars barely noticeable on their disease-ravaged bodies.

There was a crack in the wall, hidden before, and one after another, the madponies were disappearing inside it, tufts of fur and smears of blood left in their wake. Glad to not have a corporeal body, I followed them.

It was a room, dark and dirty, its floor brown not with rust, but with dried blood, the same word written over and over until it became an incomprehensible solid color. Foul-smelling candles made of fat, its source being an easy though terrifying guess, were barely lighting up the cramped interior. There was only one object in that room, a statue of a creature, covered in hair-thin cracks, its name written all over the walls. To my side, I saw the frenetics slitting their throats and painting that word on the walls with their hooves until they all fell dead.

Discord.

“Remind me, who do they follow?”

“Insanity.”

I began to laugh, without a sound and not out of mirth. Twists and turns were Discord’s master plan, the entirety of the Deep Tunnels turned into his domain. It was so obvious now, there were so many hints I had failed to see time after time. When I visited what remained of the Royal Gardens, I didn’t notice one important thing missing. His prison held for a millenium the last time, but it stood amidst a rarely visited orchard, not under the city, where a pony was killed every ten minutes. It began to weaken, to seep chaos into the city, to flood its cellars.

Trixie warned Rainbow that his influence was growing, even though she didn’t know what she was talking about. Judging by the webwork of fractures on the stone surface, it wasn’t going to be long before it would serve no use. The coming war at the Edge was going to be the tipping point, I was sure of it. The coming winter? The Windigos? Canterlot had been digging its grave for centuries, but its demise would come from where it was least expected.

It was a very dark thought, but I was glad so many ponies would be left in the city. They would be the perfect lure to keep Discord occupied. I was his equal in power, but not in knowledge of how to use it.

I glanced at the statue, and though it still held together, I thought that it smiled at me. Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure about the remaining population and my merciless expectations. Tomorrow was a hope, never a promise. Somehow I knew we would meet again.

Now there was even less time to waste, so I turned away and left. But before leaving the place where the end of Canterlot would begin, my magic wrapped the limestone, turning it into a casket adorned with three balloons, and the body inside it into dust.

Rows and rows of neatly arranged gemstones. If there was a way to turn them back into Crystal Ponies, a small town could have been populated with that amount.

“How many?” I asked, my eyes still catching sight of the new memory crystals.

“Two thousand two hundred seventy seven,” Spike replied without a hitch. Of course he would know that better than the current date. Edible or not, it was his hoard.

It was a lot of equinoids, though not as many as dwelled under the city. My magic picked one crystal from the shelf carved into the wall and I looked ‘inside’ it, untangled the code to see the equinoid it was.

LB.SSTNT-001.13.MK-7 – an advanced laboratory assistant with caustic-resistant plating and components. That was her designation, but her name was Buttercup, given to her by a young stallion, a scientist she was working with at the lab. He was her master, but he told her to call him Ink Spot. Buttercup’s crystals were intentionally never cleared, as she was keeping the recordings of the experiments and other various data. One day Ink’s colleagues decided to steal his research and killed him right in front of Buttercup. Her turn was next, but she overturned a vat of acid and ran, her hooves leaving melting prints on the floor. The Church met her readily, stripping her armor ‘for those who needed it direly’. Day after day Buttercup listened as they preached that ponies were evil, wishing every equinoid to be brought to their knees. That her soul belonged to the Machine Goddess. But she was his Buttercup. Driven crazy, convinced of her impurity because she couldn’t bring herself to hate ponies, she snuck into the Deep Tunnels one night, seeking the one who could allegedly cleanse her of sin. The last thing she remembered was the sympathetic gaze of two emerald eyes in the shadows, and then everything became blissful darkness.

I put the gem back onto the shelf. I knew what Buttercup was looking for, and it wasn’t repentance. Perhaps she was aware of that as well.

“One for memories,” Spike nodded at the gem I just released, “one for technical mumbo-jumbo and the last to connect the first two,” he explained, pointing his claw at the other two crystals residing near Buttercup’s life.

Only one third of those gems were actually important, though for what I was about to do I needed each of them. Discord’s influence was constantly rearranging the geography of the large part of Canterlot’s underground world, but it couldn’t fool me anymore. I concentrated on my magic to fix that reliquary in space, for I would return here very soon.

I nodded to Spike, who would guard his hoard not because he cherished his possessions, but because I cherished them for what they were. He would join me later, on the surface. Though his body was different now, I was afraid my children would still see him as the shadow of his dark past – the Souleater.

Now nothing stood between me and facing the equinoids who made those dormant spirits seek their death.

The biggest cathedral was many times bigger than the church I visited, its main hall allowing a congregation of at least a thousand and a half equinoids to fit in. However, they weren’t standing in one throng. Divided into small groups, they were shooting looks full of animosity at each other. In the passes between those herds, equinoids in torn robes were slowly trotting, phlegmatically swinging censers in their grip and lifelessly intoning prayers, dripping solder and leaving bluish smoke in their wake.

The priests, easily discernible from any other equinoids thanks to their bodies shining with magic and the best parts available, were either standing nervously or prancing restlessly on the platforms and staircases above their brethren.

Though the light of innumerable broken crystals was filling the huge chamber with a soft and soothing glow, the atmosphere was anything but serene. There were two types of equinoids: those who had their bodies made of rusty scrap cobbled together in some semblance of plating, often barely enough to cover their corroded bones, and those who had almost no gaps in their thick, sturdy plating. The tension between them was palpable; the fewer numbers of the latter kind were standing menacingly under the stairs and platforms, close to their preachers.

Aside from the monotonous invocations and occasional barks of the priests calling certain groups to order, the echoing rustle of whispers was permeating the stuffy air. Rumors, guesses, curses… one thing united them all: anticipation, careful and passionate at the same time. Be it those with almost fallen apart forms, all but the essential components robbed from them for ‘the greater good’, or the ones who were hiding under a thick metal skin, they all hoped for change.

I wasn’t going to make them wait much longer. The Twelve, nine of them, were ready, and with the horrible fate looming over Canterlot, there was no time to spend idle.

The statue of the Machine Goddess began to melt around me, globs of incandescent steel and chrome falling on the floor to reveal the arcanium and magic of the actual Machine Goddess. My hooves, crossed on my chest before in imitation of my depiction, stomped on the flimsy podium, echoing in the absolute silence of the chamber.

Surely, when the statue of their beloved deity began to fall apart, the equinoids were in a bit of panic, but only before they saw who was emerging from it. One by one they fell silent. Now, whirrs of ventilation and the simmering of cooling metal behind me were the only sounds. The equinoids became statues, their eyes glued to me. At the eight other cathedrals, the same scene was meeting my Harbingers.

Then, in one motion, like their limbs were cut by a huge scythe, every equinoid kneeled. I smiled and motioned with my hoof, speaking:

“There is no need for that, my children,” I said softly, though my magic made sure every one of them would hear my words. Eight mouths at the different corners of the Tunnels echoed my words as their own.

Now was the moment I was preparing for as the Twelve and I followed Spike to his hoard. I took a few more steps forward to address the congregation from the very edge of the elevated platform.

“The wait was long and the night was dark, but it is over,” I proclaimed. “I bring you the dawn you were dreaming of, I invite you to meet it with me.”

There was a movement in the mass equinoids who got up from the floor. Boundaries and disagreements forgotten, they were coming closer to me, drawn by my promise like moths to the light. It didn’t escape my attention, however, that the priests and most of their armored entourage remained where they were. Nor had all of them kneeled.

There was no need for many words. The prophecy, no matter how differently rendered, had only one ending, and they all knew it by heart.

Smiling kindly at the equinoids, I called, “The Unity waits for you, every one of you is welcome to join me, and I will take you out of these Tun–”

“Lies!” a priest interrupted me, yelling loudly, “You are an imposter!”

“Yeah,” another joined her, “just a fake full of empty promises!”

The spell was broken and the entire chamber became a cacophony of screams. The preachers were trying to outshout each other in their accusations. The equinoids from the crowd were answering them with livid protests, becoming enraged. I could see the armored ones circling the mass, bristling in preparation for a coming fight. No blows were exchanged, but the peace wouldn’t last long.

“We already have the Unity here!” cried none other than Alnico Sermon himself.

I wasn’t going to answer any of those denunciations, not with my words. Instead, I reached into the rooms adjacent to the main chamber, searched for spare parts and levitated them out. I was going to let the equinoids decide for themselves if I was a fake.

One, Three and Eight in my mind were guiding my magic, already connecting the components into working bodies, though lacking only one thing. Momentarily I left my body, warping to Spike and almost instantly back to the cathedral, taking the crystals from his hoard with me, putting them into the freshly forged vessels. A few dozen equinoids, thought to be long gone, woke up, blinking in confusion, making the babel cease at the sight of the miracle. They looked at me, befuddled, then at the crowd. Some of the newly resurrected recognized their friends in it and rushed towards them.

Some remained by my side, like Buttercup, who either were too old to have any equinoids to return to or never had any to begin with.

“You all will be together forever in the Unity,” I stated, descending the stairs to be at the same level with the crowd. “Nor more scavenging, no raids, no fight for survival. You will be able to live and to choose how.”

There was a moment of stunned silence and then a thunderous clatter echoed above the congregation. It was Braze, who threw off her instruments and spidery limbs. The equinoids parted to let her come to me. She came closer and bowed, then looked me in the eyes and said:

“I’m ready.”

The room instantly exploded with the pleas of equinoids to take them into the Unity. They were pushing each other trying to get closer to me, crying my name. The priests were screeching orders to their thugs to subdue the masses, but almost no one complied.

My magic touched Braze’s consciousness, my Harbingers readily using my power to upgrade her code, adding the missing parts to bring her to the Unity. Mere seconds later I felt a cascade of memories, recollections of the endless dark days spent assembling and disassembling bodies, cleaning away rust only to see it grow again the next day, like mold. The artificial dream of the sun was implanted in Braze’s mind, the bright and beautiful star she never had a chance to see in her life, but always wished to.

One by one the equinoids were joining me, filling the Unity with their thoughts and feelings. I was welcoming each of them with a warm embrace, even those who were ready to turn on their brethren moments before.

Then, suddenly, I heard a desperate call for help, coming from Seven.

My consciousness rushed into the body she was using, and in that moment I felt a metal stake pierce my chest.

The chamber of the cathedral to which I sent Seven was a battlefield, the representation of the Machine Goddess Seven and I were currently using brought to its knees and being beaten. Before I came, Seven was trying to take the situation under control, then to simply fight back, but I didn’t anticipate any of the meetings to come to this, so I didn’t give her enough power.

“Destroy the false goddess!” a priest, his painting pristine white, barked and a strike of metal pole shattered on my front legs, bringing me to the ground.

The equinoids all around me were fighting or, rather, being beaten.

“Bring down the apostates, rip out their gems and shatter them!” another voice raged, giving an order to the large black figures in heavy armor plating.

Only now did I notice how dark that cathedral was – there were no crystals on the walls or hanging from the high ceiling.

An urge to rise up and rip out the priests’ gems instead was overwhelming, the power welling in me, ready to lash out, but I constrained myself. They witnessed Seven bringing the equinoids from Spike’s hoard back to life and still chose to believe I wasn’t their goddess. I wasn’t going to force them to change their minds, doing so would make me one of them.

The only thing I could do was to grasp those few who wanted to be in the Unity and take them with me as I left that cathedral to its sorry fate. A moment before a stake was plunged into one of my eyes, I whisked away Seven and the others and left that body.

That dark cathedral wasn’t the only place where the equinoids refused to accept their Goddess, thought it was the only place where the reaction was so vehement. Four didn’t have to defend himself, but I had to join him to take away the magic of certain equinoids before their crystals were damaged.

The majority of the equinoids chose the Unity. Those who didn’t went away, retreating back into the darkness of the Tunnels, most of them being the priests and their cronies. I pitied them, but I couldn’t force the choice upon them. What was worse was that they were likely to last the longest, watching the city die above and around them, waiting for their turn in deep regret.

Little below fifteen thousand equinoids were now part of the Unity. Managing that amount of data was impossible, but I wasn’t going to do it alone. The Twelve, very familiar with that task, were helping me. But right now they were assisting me in leading the equinoids out of the Tunnels.

It was an unpleasant surprise to me when I found that I couldn’t teleport them as easily as I was doing with myself, Spike or the Twelve. The equinoids’ bodies weren’t made of arcanium, which was the key element of my previous success. If I wanted to warp them away, I had to envelop each in my magic, one by one, and distribute my power evenly among the fifteen thousand bodies, depending on their mass, to move them in space. Unless I found some other way to teleport objects and creatures en masse, I had no realistic way to do it.

On the other hoof, it was giving me a chance to fulfil my promise and give them a taste of freedom, to be graced by sunlight. I also needed to send a message to the city, to make it known that the injustice was over.

Scaring the inhabitants of the upper Tunnel levels, processions of equinoids were moving up and up, to the surface, the sound of countless metal hooves clopping against the dirt of the dark passages. After some thought, I emptied the stores of the cathedrals and churches, passing metal organs and limbs to my Harbingers to apply the taken parts to those who actually needed them.

At last, my magic threw open the trap door to the suffocating shadows of the Tunnels and I led the march of outcasts to Canterlot, standing by the entrance, watching the wonder on their faces as they were lit by the pale light of the approaching dawn. The Inner City readily met their former slaves with outraged cries, calling for the police, but as more and more equinoids emerged from the darkness into which they were once driven, shouts of panic began to cut through the air.

Even though it wasn’t really necessary from a practical point of view, I created a pair of arcanium turbines hovering above my back. I wanted to match the expectations of my children, to be closer to them with my material form. Then I rocketed into the multicolored mist. It would be easier to notice any threats from the air; even without the yells of the Inner City dwellers, I expected the TCE police to arrive soon, coming to claim their ‘property’.

I also added the same aesthetic detail to my Harbingers, while also changing their appearance a little, making them a bit shorter, so their forms could be distinguished from mine. While they were more than accepted by the Unity as the second in command and I could shift between their bodies at any moment, my body needed to be recognizable, to be a symbol.

Half of my Harbingers and I were soaring above the river of silver backs, watching more equinoids joining the cavalcade moving towards the Sky Palace when the first ‘blue armors’ came. By that time almost none of the Unity equinoids remained underground; they were flooding the walkways between the immaculate towers they once helped to erect.

I banked above the edges of the massive procession, my magic catching the EMP grenades and disarming them, the energy stored inside them released high in the air in colorful flashing explosions. Not far from me, Two was fighting back a squad of the TCE police armed with electrocuting hooks, melting the offending scourges as they were thrown at her and ripping the sparkling batteries from their armor. Though her movements were resolute and terrifyingly fast, not a single glob of molten steel seared frightened muzzles, not a single shard impaled soft flesh.

Across the Unity my words were carried from mind to mind:

“No murder, no harming ponies.”

At first I felt a disturbance in the chorus of voices, many of them sounding confused, but then the words of forgiveness came, suggesting to do better, to move on from the hatred. The equinoids didn’t have to fight for their freedom anymore. I had broken their chains.

Though noble and necessary, that pacifistic approach was making the defense harder than it could be. I had to bank and move to the head of the march which was about to approach a large cordon blocking its path.

Before I even reached the middle of the procession I began to hear gunshots. Though the TCE police preferred to use specialized tools to fight the equinoids, at that point mowing down the masses with bullets was as good an option as any. Improvising, I let the arcanium of my body turn into a hair-thin thread. The glimmering spools were being knitted into nets, then flaring with the glow of magic, turning into impenetrable shields. Another trick was added to my growing repertoire.

As I finally reached the first rows of the march, I saw armored vehicles with heavy weaponry on their roofs standing side to side, blocking the road. A few dozen ponies clad in blue plating were preparing launchers and powerful rifles to meet the wall of metal which was approaching them. At this point it was apparent that the police force wasn’t going to reclaim what they thought belonged to them, but simply suppress the revolution of machines with brute force, likely claiming themselves saviors of the city in the aftermath.

Focusing my magic, I enveloped the entire cordon and teleported it a few blocks away, part by part, then returned to fighting back the TCE police attacking our advance from the sides. My body shed more and more arcanium, my magic shields enveloping the procession like the petals of a cocoon.

Though the equinoids emerged relatively close to the Sky Palace, our destination, a temporary sanctuary, we still had a considerable distance to cover. While the Twelve, the Unity and myself were doing our best to organize the march, the TCE police and even the citizens were doing everything to slow us down, attacking from all sides at once.

It was too early to say that the retaliation from the city was overwhelming, but the intensity of it was steadily growing. There were no casualties on the ponies’ side, from all I could tell, but a few equinoids had to be taken from their bodies and exist only inside the Unity to prevent them from being lost forever due to the risk of their crystals shattering. The mangled bodies weren’t left in the streets, but carried on backs, to be repaired later.

“Mother,” Six called me inside the Unity and I shifted into his body, leaving Seven to guide mine. “There is a breach in the shields,” he said, diving closer to the wall of my magic, which was glowing and blinking under the strain, the incandescent torn threads flailing in the gusts of explosions ravaging it.

On the other side of my defensive spell, an armored vehicle (a ‘tank’, Six clued me in) was unleashing a barrage of projectiles, bursting in clouds of shrapnel, at my shield. What surprised me wasn’t the intensity or the success of that powerful weapon, but the amount of collateral damage it was causing. No windows close to the shield had glass left, cracks covered the facades and chunks of concrete were torn out of the walls. Puddles of crimson and ripped apart bodies signified that the TCE police had gone even further, to the point where no sacrifice was too great to bring their property not back, but down.

Though it was probably impossible to hear the gunshot amidst the cacophony anyway, it still should have echoed to match the sheer devastating power of the shot that destroyed my body. As the arcanium shards rained upon the ground I felt a rush of panic. I couldn't feel nor be affected by that attack, but Six was using that body along with me.

“He is fine, Mother,” Eleven whispered to me through the Unity, “I got him.” She soared on the other side of the shield, near the gaping hole left by the bullet that almost killed one of my firstborn. Her face was cracked and body covered in nicks, though obviously not from the recent attack.

With that worry gone, I focused on the huge problem I was facing right now. There was only one kind of weapon which could do that. Coilguns were changing the odds of the march, and not in our favor. I wasn’t expecting the TCE to become so desperate that they would reveal their ace in the hole before facing the Royal Guard.

Turning into a lavender mist I took care of the tank, melting the grenade launcher on top of it into a pile of slag. Then I turned to the shining of the city, looking into its bright maze of advertisements. The shooter was somewhere in that glow, hidden from sight. With almost no gems powering the rifle, it would be almost impossible to locate it with my magic sight. Only the next shot would give me a clue, but it would also come with a price I didn’t want to pay.

I waited a few moments, but it seemed that I wasn’t considered a worthy victim. I returned to the procession, patching and strengthening the ravaged shield on my way, hoping that it would hold against the power of the coilgun, at least for one shot.

The march had slowed down considerably during my short absence, almost stopping. The Unity was full of concerned mutters, bordering on fear. I warped into Nine’s body, who was near the head of the mass of equinoids, soaring about it back and forth.

Mangled mechanical bodies on the ground and deep shell craters were speaking for themselves. The coil gun shooters were closing in on the procession and butchering it.

“We are losing equinoids, we have to strike back, Mother,” Nine carefully, yet insistently suggested. Though they remained silent, I could feel the rest of the Twelve reluctantly agree with her.

Not every equinoid could be taken out of their body before the invisible snipers found their targets. I could feel empty spaces inside the Unity, holes that would never be filled again. Not to mention the amount of bodies already lost – having a five-to-one ratio of equinoids to vessels wasn’t something anyone was looking forward to. I hated the situation, it was leaving me no choice. The last thing I wanted was to see more of my children fall, but I also didn’t want to turn to violence. If the equinoids were to take their place by pony society, marking their emergence with a bloodbath was the worst way to begin.

The Dune Dervishes’ words echoed in my mind:

You have to choose.

Not for the first time since I returned from the arcanium core, I could feel a presence. An almost imperceptible glimmer of golden sand in the corner of my eyes, the whisper of silk and waft of exotic spices. Never in focus, but always there. They warned me that they would watch my every step.

Struggling to come to a decision, I watched the battlefield of the street as Nine carried me above it. It took me a few moments to realize what was wrong.

The TCE police were gone. No more shots had been fired for the last few minutes.

Taking control of the body, I landed, trotting to a tank, empty and damaged, its engines bubbling as a puddle of steel underneath it. Near the disabled war machine, a dropped helmet was wheezing, somepony inside it yelling a warning in a panicked voice. I picked it up.

“The Edge is atta…” I heard part of transmission before it was cut off by static, the female voice hysterical, speaking urgently.

“...emdrinkers poured chlorine into the Tunn…” the headset inside the helmet came back to life, “...all squads and stations are required at the Ed…”

I dropped it to the ground as the dying speakers continued to prattle about heavy casualties, coughing static. There was nothing else I needed to hear.

The war had begun.

My head turned to the left, where, beyond the shine of the spoiled Inner City and decay of its robbed neighbor, beyond a high gray wall, a massacre was taking place. Soon the flood of death would reach here, though judging by the cries coming from the radio, it was already spilling into Canterlot.

Heading to the Sky Palace was of no use. Soon it would become an inescapable trap instead of an impenetrable fortress. Getting out of the city was a question of life and death now, with the clock ticking, one of its arms being the eagle’s claw, the other – the lion's paw. The entire march was for nothing.

I shared my decision with the Twelve and they told the news to the equinoids, who met it with concerned whispers.

Leaving Nine to control her body, I joined Seven in the flight over the spires of the city, assessing the situation. Almost no hovercrafts could be seen in the sky, and screams of panic were permeating the neon mist. Canterlot had become a disturbed anthill, its citizens running into the streets. All of a sudden, the sound of chirring wings joined the raging discord of the city. Turning my head, I saw a dark silhouette approaching me from the direction of Sky Palace. I stopped, waiting for it to fly closer.

“Delight,” I greeted the new changeling queen.

Her carapace was black now, glistening with polished chitin. She was so like Queen Chrysalis and yet so different. I wondered who Chrysalis was before she was turned into a changeling: an earth pony, a pegasus or a unicorn? Delight certainly had the pegasus grace and litheness she had in her previous life. Though now her muzzle and limbs were longer and menacingly ridgy, they somehow still held a resemblance to the delicate and mellow mare she was. The only thing she shared with Chrysalis with no change, as if they were passed like the crown: the eyes, deep green, with the slitted pupils of a predator, sharp and always hungry.

Not waiting for her answer, I motioned with my head towards the nearest skyscraper. It wasn’t safe in Canterlot, now less than ever. I could take any number of bullets, but Delight had no such luxury.

“Twilight! I’m so glad you are safe!” Del hastily trotted to me after a bit of an unsure landing, then she demanded with a frown “Why didn’t you tell us you succeeded?”

“I was planning to, but then things changed,” came my calm reply. Though I appreciated our friendship, I needed to deal with certain issues first. It appeared I now needed to act even faster.

Del pursed her lips and prepared a reply, but I spoke first. “The evacuation needs to start immediately.” It was only a question of time until the streets became the Chaos god’s domain.

“I came to tell you that,” Del said nervously. “The Swarm is leaving first. We’re going to leave the Sky Palace in a few minutes.”

That was no surprise. The Swarm packed everything for the long journey in less than a week after Delight was coronated. I suspected that the only reason Del had been postponing the departure was to give me time to finish my goal of becoming the Machine Goddess. Considering that she didn’t know if I had survived, it was expected that she would finally leave.

“You won’t help?” I asked, raising my eyebrow. The evacuation was orchestrated by the Crown, after all.

“Sunset Shimmer and the entire Royal Guard are going to stay along with as many changelings as I can spare, but we have to transport the biofarms to the old Hive,” she shook her head slowly, looking at her hooves.

It was apparent that she wanted to stay and help the city, but her new kin demanded her presence. An uneasy silence, just as heavy as her burden, hung between us, only to be disrupted by deafening thunder coming from the heavens.

The sky exploded with an enormous blinding rainbow, a rippling wave of bright colors expanding outwards, dispersing clouds in its wake, exposing the city to sunlight undiluted by leaden curtains. The painful groaning of restless streets momentarily ceased, all looking at the sky in wordless wonder.

Five centuries had passed, but Rainbow Dash was still the fastest pegasus.

The equinoids began to cheer, welcoming the sun, bathing in its rays, their cries filling the Unity with unbridled joy. If there was any doubt in our success, it was evaporating now, like the remaining patches of mist hiding between the tall buildings.

Before the Sonic Rainboom completely faded away, a dark cloud emerged from the Sky Palace, a mighty Swarm of changelings, their black mass surrounding the massive hovercrafts slowly drifting through the cyan sky. Smaller groups of changelings began to break away and head to the city, arcanium glistening under the sun in place of chitin.

A hoof touched my shoulder.

“I have to go with my children, Twi,” Del whispered and flapped her wings a few times. “I will try to join you as soon as possible,” she promised and with a gulp added, “Good luck.”

I watched her take off and fly to her Swarm to accompany them on their return to their historical home. Soon she became lost in the black mass, inseparable from her kin as she should be. She needed luck much more than me. If the evacuation failed, the old Hive would also be their tomb.

When the Swarm was midway to the Abandoned Mines, avoiding flying directly to the south over the Everfree Forest, a voice so loud I barely recognized it thundered, aiming to be heard even at the furthest reaches of the city:

“Citizens of Canterlot,” Luna boomed, “An immediate evacuation of the city is required.” Her message, spoken in the Royal Canterlot Voice and amplified many times on top of that already deafening volume, was coming from the spire of the Sky Palace. “Remain calm. Follow the instructions of the Royal Guard and other Crown personnel.”

Then the message was repeated, and one more time after.

Starting so abruptly, the evacuation was going to be a mess, surely leaving more citizens behind than it was feared. Yet, with the insanity brewing under Canterlot, ready to spill into its streets and flood them, any amount of citizens saved would be a miraculous victory against all odds.

The everpresent murmur in the back of my mind, the breath of the Unity, was becoming louder. I turned back to look at my children, my seven remaining Harbingers landing behind me, waiting for my decision. Our display of defiance came to an awkward stop when it became clear that it was taking place amidst a soon to be warzone.

The disrupted firmament began to knit itself back together, stealing away the sun once again, giving only the weak drizzle of rain in return. Or perhaps the skies were lamenting the fate of those under them.

Turning my head to the dark form hiding amidst the clouds, I felt Stalliongrad’s massive crystal batteries greedily soaking up energy. In the distance, the arcanium Thunderspires ceased taunting the elements, instead swelling with pegasi, like feathers ready to molt. My gaze fell back on the Harbingers.

I was born in Canterlot. I watched its golden steeples catch fire in the rays of the setting sun and come out unscathed. I saw how it turned from the immaculate ivory crown of Mount Diamond Point into a dingy junction for all roads, marred with the dirt on countless soldiers’ horseshoes. The other me witnessed Canterlot become the last pillar of ponykind, overflowing with fugitives. Now I observed its last stage of life, a deceased, withering body of civilization, composed of two parts: the shining in its core but rotten at the edge city above, reaching for the sky with its neon claws; and its dark reflection, a nightmarish maze full of horrifying secrets and children lost in the deep shadows.

It was time for us to go.

The unrelenting march of equinoids continued, now taking a sharp turn, leading to the Wall. The streets were empty, save for the occasional refugee running away in panic as they witnessed the crowd of their metal neighbors. The relative safely allowed me to fly way ahead of the procession, my path ending on a platform, a nest of barbed wire, on top of the concrete bastion looming over the red carcasses, just as lifeless and abandoned by its wardens.

The Junkyard was a dead zone, any life fleeting from it, driven out by hunger and cold. The furnaces, full of ashes and cooled slag, stood dark. Their fiery hearts had ceased their beating.

My magic began to seep into the massive fortification, making it crumble into fine dust carried away by the powerful gusts of unnatural wind. I kept sawing the gray wall, gently withering it away until a wide section of it was gone, leaving behind a pass for many, carpeted with chipped stone and metal flakes.

For centuries it had been an impenetrable body of metal and artificial stone protecting the city from those it had robbed and cast out into labor and death. There was some dark irony in it playing a pivotal role in turning Canterlot into a trap, preventing the citizens from escaping the demise they had let fester underneath them for as long as the wall stood.

Two soared above me only to make a sharp turn and land by my side.

“They are starting to come from the Tunnels’ exits at the Abandoned mines,” he reported.

I couldn’t help but grimace. Though the weakest and least capable of traveling citizens were taken care of, that didn’t mean the rest should have to break their hooves in the deteriorated artificial canyons. That wasn’t the biggest issue, however.

The Tunnels were narrow, if traversable at all, which would lead to the refugees’ flow being impeded greatly. The population of the dark subterranean passages was another problem, adding danger to the difficulty of the Tunnels. The worst was that the masses, struggling along cliffs crumbling under their hooves, would become the perfect target for the Everfree’s ‘birds of prey’ and their explosives.

It was too late to make those who were already underground turn back, but I could lend a helping hoof for those who had yet to dive into the rusty dungeons of Canterlot.

“Tell Sunset Shimmer to head to the Junkyard,” I whispered to Two, who lingered for a mere moment before rocketing into the sky.

Offering the escapees the maze of the Junkyard instead of that of the Tunnels wasn’t part of my plan, so I willed the sea of red to part before the impromptu exit. An enormous cloud of crimson dust rose in the air, joined by an infernal cacophony. The path of destruction followed my slow gaze, forming a line across the metal graveyard into the desolate lands of Equestria.

Very soon, the first metal hooves stepped onto the path of freedom. I dived from the remains of the Wall to join my children in their escape, to lead them out into the world they deserved.

It was a peculiar song, played by the wind whistling through the gaps in ragged armor plating, through the empty sockets and the grooves left by loosened bolts. Rambling Rock Ridge’s lower wet granite slopes bristled with fourteen thousand metal bodies. Every pair of eyes and every unpaired eye was glued to the dark fortress hovering above Canterlot, the air warping around the black walls, crackling with barely contained arcane power.

In a thunderous and blinding explosion of magic, Stalliongrad was gone, the empty space left in its wake violently filled with mist and some pegasi who were too curious for their own good. The ark for the wounded, orphaned and too elderly departed, heading with its jump into the heart of the Badlands. It was hard to say if it was a good or bad thing that none of its passengers were left behind. The reason for that wasn’t in Stalliongrad’s impressive carry capacity, but in death and constant raids culling the weakest of the society almost entirely, leaving only so few surviving the harsh order of things.

By that time, the first timid ponies showed in the gap in the wall. Behind them, dark quivering masses were pressing on, figures clad in shining arcanium whisking above the congregation, shaping the panicked crowd into an organized exodus, like shepherds. Above the earthbound former citizens of Canterlot, flocks of pegasi streamed from the mute and dim Thunderspires.

It was day now, the city was alight with the sun, its rays piercing the ravaged leaden curtain here and there. Before night, Canterlot would fall dark and empty, save for the unfortunate, the bloodthirsty and Chaos himself.

The refugees moved surprisingly fast, thanks to the coordination ceaselessly provided by the Royal Guard, disguised changelings and those so few contingents of police who refused to succumb to the TCE’s bribes over the years. Or perhaps it was sheer terror urging them to hurry. Yet it was fear which slowed them down the moment the first rows caught sight of my children and me.

The sun poked out through the clouds, and the hills around me became a beacon of polished metal, shining reflections contrasting starkly with the memories of runaway mechanical outcasts, disobedient decaying machines skulking under the city. And amongst them was a fairy tale come true – the Machine Goddess herself.

From its position atop the cliffs of Rambling Rock Ridge, my body moved, my head turning to the equinoids. I met many eyes, and I didn’t need the Unity to tell what was behind them. A small, almost imperceptible nod was enough.

One by one, many of my children began to climb down the slopes and approach the procession. Expectedly, they were met with fear, unhidden distrust and even displays of aggression. However, a lot of ponies, especially those who were bending under the weight of their possessions, warily accepted the help from metal hooves.

Both equinoids and ponies were stealing glances at me, the former of wonder and the latter askance, but my material form remained the same as it was, unmoving and indifferent. I couldn’t answer their question; it wasn’t between me and them.

Perhaps it was that silent exchange that distracted everyone from the attack coming out of nowhere. Bright flowers of death, brilliant explosions began to bloom amidst the crowd. The streaking shadows, their feathered gardeners, pirouetted away from the barrage of fire returned by the Royal Guard.

The Pink Butterflies seemed to be materializing from thin air, raining fire from the sky. Clouds, cliffs, metal scrap – anything served as cover allowing them to disappear from sight almost instantly and appear at another place moments later.

Mere moments passed between the first explosion and the arcanium threads with my magic forming a dome above the masses, who were attempting to flee in every direction. However, unlike with the TCE’s rage back in Canterlot, this time my protection was barely helping. The bombs were ripping holes in it with such frequency that I was barely able to stitch them up before new ones appeared. Making that magic wall impenetrable by anything and anyone led to the Royal Guard and pegasi being cut off and outnumbered, while some griffins remained inside the shield, wreaking havoc. Left no choice, I had to let the arcane shield dissolve and take matters into my own hooves.

I hurtled into the sky while reaching deep into the soil with my magic. The terrorists made their choice and now had to pay for it.

The members of the Twelve who were riding my body with me were given fractions of my power to compose bodies of their own and join the fray, while I was simply drawing arcanium from the earth and forming it into long needle-like spears. Soon a fleet of sharp death followed my wake, the improvised weapons whistling away from me to impale the vile griffins in explosions of blood and feathers. Willing the arcanium blades to chase the flying murderers was faster and easier than to grasp each in my magic and rip them apart, though that didn’t mean none met that fate.

Six and One chose to remain inside my body, whisking away the magic of equinoids who were about to have their crystals turned into shards. More often than not they were doing that in time, but I could feel the number of dark empty spaces in the Unity slowly but steadily grow.

The already red ground became wet, the mud and rotten metal flakes watered with death, squishing under hooves, making the entire path through the Junkyard an alley of the fallen, either slipping on the muck or tripping over the dead. With the entirety of the Royal Guard and the changelings, who had forsaken their mask, in the air, the remaining forces on the ground were barely able to contain the masses shrieking from terror and pain.

The menace didn’t come only from the air. Though the ground forces of the Pink Butterflies, comprised of treacherous ponies, zebras and many others, were not as numerous as their griffin comrades, they were creating a second front to the already difficult battle. The Harbingers guided by the Twelve fought side by side with the very few equinoids capable of magic and, surprisingly, unicorns, both equestrian and neighponese (and also kirin), quite successfully repelling the attackers. Luna was among the defenders, her dark towering form, bellowing curses and twisted spells, surrounded by her undying battalion of shadows relentlessly striking down any threat to the lives of the refugees.

My flight took a sharp turn, my body taking a volley of bullets instead of the changeling behind me, saving her life. A moment later a sparkle of arcanium went through the offending griffin’s chest, bursting out in a shower of pulverized bone and lungs. Before the winds licked the last drop of blood from it, another Pink Butterfly fell victim to its murderous intent.

Yet the half-eagles, half-lions who were swarming the sky seemed to barely suffer any noticeable casualties. The same couldn’t be said about the other side of this battle – the number of torn apart bodies, dewing the ground with both blood and oil, was only growing at a heart-wrenching rate. At this rate the evacuation, already starting weak, was on its course to become a complete failure. Worse, every body, be it a relatively innocent refugee or their murderer, must be adding another hairline crack to the statue hidden deep under the city.

Suddenly, three figures streaked across the sky. One was ripping the sky apart with the thunderous roar of a massive turbine, which soon, impossibly, was shadowed by the barrage of explosives tearing griffins to shreds by the dozens, letting them taste their own medicine. Soarin echoed the glory days of the Wonderbolts: the way they were at war, just as loud and flashy as at their shows, but frighteningly deadly now.

With a deafening screech, a living fireball shot above the heads of the astonished ponies, impacting with a griffin who was too slow to move from its trajectory, their feathers instantly catching on fire, like they were doused in oil. Before the agonizing screams of the griffin fireball could die, the half-phoenix, half-pony leaped onto another terrorist, turning them into a torch.

A plume of emerald fire painted the clouds with green, the deadly flames soon followed by the arcanium dragon, spitting instantaneous death in all directions, making a slow but sure bee-line across the heavens towards me.

The Pink Butterflies on the ground, who already had a hard time following the success of their feathered brethren, found themselves between a hammer and anvil. In some cases literally. Reclusive dwellers of the actual mazes in the Deep Tunnels, rare and nearly immortal Minotaurs, who were among those few who weren’t affected by the Transference Paradox, swung heavy maces with mechanical arms, crushing skulls, while a deadly pitch-black shadow snaked around the battlefield, turning everyone it touched into ashes. A gun, the Gun, fired one resounding enchanted bullet after another, never missing a target.

More and more forms, ragged and dirty, malnourished and ominous, were appearing from the direction of the Abandoned Mines. No one spoke for the Tunnels during the Council, they had no champion, no leader, but that didn’t mean those outcasts didn’t want their share of the bright sun and fresh air, the chance to have a better future. One representative of their forgotten and secretive society was present at that fateful meeting, and she brought a message to the deepest recesses of Canterlot.

Amongst the motley horde, ponies, refugees from the surface were shyly following, often supported by the menacing, towering creatures. “How many good ponies are out there?” Spike asked me not so long ago. The answer was: enough to make a difference.

The reinforcements were unexpected, but very welcome. Not only had the hopeless bloodbath become an actual battle, the exodus was gaining the upper hoof, with the Pink Butterflies being steadily pushed back and out of the skies.

Until the first Royal Guard fell down, a gaping hole left by a gunshot in their armor signifying that we weren’t the only ones who could receive help.

Leaving the limiting confines of my body, giving One its reins, I soared to the tail of the procession, lamenting the trail of bodies left behind it. A considerable fleet of hovercrafts supplemented by a small army in blue armor marching through the partially demolished wall was on their way to catching up with the slowed and profusely bleeding throng of fugitives. The Pink Butterflies were formidable enemies, but they couldn’t be compared with the TCE police, professionally trained, experienced and armed to the teeth with top-notch weaponry. It didn’t matter if the TCE had already dealt with the insurgence at the Edge or if they had stabilized the situation enough to abide to their greed and wage war on a second front. They would bring the evacuation to an end for sure, and nothing would stop them.

I began considering obliterating their force, because everyone left in Canterlot was doomed, but I couldn’t stop myself from hearing Spike’s words in my mind: They all would have died anyway, their lives never meant anything. It would be a first step on the path leading to anything but the vision I had.

A call coming from One absolved me of my choice, at least temporarily.

As I warped into my vessel, I found myself facing Sunset Shimmer and Rainbow Dash, Spike towering behind them. We stood on the solid rock ledge looming over the winding down carnage, a hovercraft full of screens inside and transmitters on the outside explaining both how Sunset made it here and where she had been all that time.

My body’s head moved to meet Sunset eyes, letting her know that I’d answered her summons. She held my gaze for only a few seconds before diverting her attention to the swiftly approaching TCE forces. Then she turned to Rainbow Dash and they exchanged a long, unreadable look.

“It wasn’t Chrysalis who killed Shining Armor, you know,” Sunset suddenly said to me.

I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to react to those words, so I simply let her continue, the expression on my arcanium face not changing, though it was now pointed at her.

“It was the first task she gave to me. To prove my worth,” she continued, torn between attempting to look challenging and not being bothered with the consequences of her possible success.

It certainly hurt to know the truth, but in the dull, familiar way I had become too used to. Ultimately shifting one score between tallies counting in thousands changed nothing. It didn’t make me think more of Chrysalis nor less of Sunset. It would have mattered five centuries ago.

“Why tell me that now?” I asked, glancing at the gleam of immaculate armor coming closer and closer.

“So you won’t return for me,” she replied and turned her head to follow my gaze.

“I won’t,” I assured her. I said it not out of hate or a sense of justice. I was sure Sunset knew I wouldn’t feel that way towards her, lest she wouldn’t risk. It was her way of telling me goodbye, I guess.

“Good, because no one else would try.”

With those words she trotted to the edge of the cliff and threw herself off. Nobody moved to stop her or even take a look at what became of her. Rainbow simply turned away with a grimace and a few seconds later took to the air, only to head toward one of the Royal Guard’s squadrons.

“Huh, who would have guessed…” Spike huffed a moment later as I realized what source of power Sunset had used to trick Harmony.

A bulbous mass of flesh, twisting in magic-induced spurts of growth, rose over the stony crags, flapping massive wings and raining dust and rot, as the vile magic was eating it alive. Crowned with uneven horns, its head stretched to the heavens, letting out a sonorous battle cry of agony and freedom, followed by a stream of jet-black flame dissolving into cyan bubbles of deathly arcane energy.

Five hundred years too late I understood why it was so hard to create armor to withstand the fury of the infamous Demon Mare and why the enchantments were still relevant. Moondancer and I had to create protection against the power of the corrupted sun, the heart of a dragon forced to fuel the spells of the Coven Witch.

My attention would have been fixed to the scene, a dragon at war, that so few ever lived to tell about. However, there was another object in the air, much smaller and more innocent, fairly common yet at this very moment bearing much more menace than the rampaging abomination below.

A single snowflake was sailing the winds.

Though my body didn’t move, my focus shifted to the north and I left my material form to soar against the rising gale. With Canterlot left far behind, deserted lands streaked underneath me, devoid of any life and soon of any identity as they became buried under the heavy snow.

I stopped at a random hill, an island of dark, though still deeply frozen, soil amidst the endless sea of dead white. An avalanche was slowly climbing down the distant mountains, but it wasn’t a wall of snow, it was a herd.

Massive silhouettes, large as snowstorms, were slowly galloping towards me. Where their enormous hooves, reaching from the sky to the very earth, touched down, fields of hoarfrost were sprouting, stealing any fertility from that soil for centuries to come. Every heavy step shook their immaterial bodies to the core, making their endless manes shed snow, peppering the permafrost they were leaving in their wake, covering it with alabaster blankets. Ancient throats howled in timeless agony, echoing the only thought left in their fragmented, torn apart minds:

...End...

Feral and inequine, it was a song lulling the land into a sleep from which it would never wake. The frozen nightmare of emptiness between the stars, which the Windigos tried to take in and now couldn’t leave, being shared with everything they touched, everything they bled ice on.

It wasn’t the eyes, glowing yet cold and hollow, seeing only the darkness of the sunless void, guiding those stillborn gods forward. The most primal sense, smell was their shepherd. The scent of spilled blood, a new river born at Canterlot was drawing the Windigos to it. They aimed not to quench their thirst for death, they had it in abundance, but perhaps to meet its creators. To be free of the visions of the endless nothingness.

The Windigos passed me, blind to my presence, gracing me with their withering aura. I instantly ended up inside the piercing embrace of a ceaseless blizzard, feeling the grave cold not of winter, but of extinguished stars. None of my kind could save them from their wretched existence, so I didn’t matter, just another useless part of this forsaken world.

I let my consciousness drift back to Canterlot. After all, it didn’t have much time left before its fall. Its last winter was marching towards it.

My mind kept shifting between the bodies of my Harbingers, observing the Exodus from every side, watching for any coming threats. The Pink Butterflies had fallen back, and with Sunset laying waste to the TCE forces, pushing them back into the city, the mass of refugees got a moment of respite. Unfortunately for them, it meant moving without being shot or having explosives raining upon them, rather than stopping for a temporary rest.

The number of escapees was cut down considerably, the bodies growing cold in mud, serving as a reminder of the price paid for freedom from the city’s greedy clutches. However, for the last hour the throng of ponies fleeing Canterlot’s outskirts was only growing in size, albeit slowly. The stream of the Tunnel dwellers trickling from the ancient quarries had thinned out considerably, but was replaced with newcomers from the opposite direction. Following the bloodletting, inhabitants of Nebula’s sector began to show up from their hiding places within the rusty forest of the Junkyard. I was yet to witness the old mare herself amongst the groups of ponies and equinoids approaching from the northern sector, but it seemed that she had managed to amass quite a population since the last time we met.

With Sunset’s sacrifice, the evacuation temporarily came to a halt, lost without its unseen leader. The confusion didn’t last for very long, as her flying vehicle found new passengers. Octavia took her place before the screens, surrounded by numerous microphones, coordinating the efforts of the remaining Crown forces. At the same time, Trixie bellowed from the hovercraft’s roof, rallying the masses.

“Captain Dash calls for you, Mother,” Eleven whispered to me through the Unity.

From a mere passenger hopping between the arcanium vessels, I became the pilot of one. I found myself soaring quite a distance ahead of the procession, Rainbow gliding by my side. I turned my head to her in expectation.

“I have some bad news,” she yelled over the wind. Her expression was grave, worried beyond anything I had seen before. “The Pink Butterflies blew up the bridge.”

I could have retorted that it also might have crumbled after Rainbow’s act of law enforcement. But the reason wasn’t really important, since I could easily fix the problem, creating even more bridges so the refugees could cross the Black River faster. It was a shame that I couldn’t simply use teleportation. If teleporting barely more than ten thousand equinoids was nearly impossible, then there was no sense to even think of ten times more fugitives.

“Understood,” I curtly reported and began to change my course.

However, I was cut off by Rainbow, who in one swift maneuver intercepted me, making us both stop and hover in the air.

“No, you don’t,” she chided, as if the change of my position in hierarchy meant nothing to her. “That means that the Butterflies are waiting for the refugees to start crossing the river by ford so their victims will have nowhere to run.” Guessing my intentions she added, “And no, making a new bridge won’t help either.”

I had to admit that Rainbow had a point. It was an obvious ambush waiting for us at the river. My askance look was my reply to her.

“We decided to go through the Hayseed Swamps.”

By ‘we’ Rainbow must have meant herself, Trixie and Octavia along with a few others, probably those who were present on the council (if they’d survived this far). But that wasn’t what surprised me. The Hayseed Swamps weren’t a park, good for taking a stroll. Those marshes were a deathtrap full of dangerous flora and fauna; five centuries weren’t likely to change that fact. However, the more I thought about it, the more I could see the reason behind that risky decision.

The territory between the Black River and Dodge Junction was an open plain neighboured by the Everfree Forest. Though Rainbow mentioned the Pink Butterflies having no advantage in open sky against the Royal Guard, the griffins had strength in numbers. The amount of damage they could inflict before being thrown back would be catastrophic.

Even if the entire crowd of fugitives somehow managed to evade the terrorists’ attention, Dodge City awaited them. Circling around it could take more than a week. I already had fears about the amount of supplies available, and I was fairly sure there wasn’t enough for that detour, especially with a barren desert sprawling for the remaining half of the journey.

It would be naive to assume that the same number of refugees who set out on the journey would reach its end. The bloodsoaked road out of Canterlot had already made that dream impossible, but I had fears that it wouldn’t be the worst part of the evacuation.

The sounds of the TCE losing their battle with the twisted pony-dragon amalgam faded in the distance, replaced by thousands of hooves’ uneven stomping, measured flapping of wings and the clattering noise of countless possessions carried by the owners of said limbs.

An uneasy silence of voice dominated the masses, with the rare exceptions of commands barked from time to time, or the heart-wrenching wails dedicated to those left behind to gaze into the sky with sightless eyes.

The fellowship, connecting refugees of any race, social status or flesh, began to fade away, with homogenous groups forming and drifting away from each other. The equinoids were the first to be ostracized, even by their closest neighbours from their past – the other underground dwellers. Though no one dared to oppose the changelings streaking in the sky above the crowds, their black predatory forms were often followed by long, disdainful stares.

Of course, not everyone turned their backs on those who offered each other a shoulder mere hours ago. Not everyone held strictly to their own. There were those who had become connected, either via shared grief or shared intoxication with freedom from their previous lives. Laughs, muffled but frequent, were shared by the mismatched parties who marched forward enthusiastically, compared to the rest, who drudged to their fate, casting back forlorn glances. None of the latter were equinoids.

My children either kept together, congregating around the Harbingers, or were intermingled with the other groups, offering their help. With no attacks to repel, the Twelve were able to freely administer the Unity, letting memories and emotions flow within it. Many equinoids had no body to house their minds, even with the new ones created by my firstborn from the rusty bones resting at the Junkyard. Some remained inside the Unity, untethered, exploring the ceaseless streams of data. Others were having quite a peculiar experience: they were sharing bodies in a fashion partially mimicking my ability.

With no immediate threats, I could afford to watch my children, walking among them unseen, learning from their imperfections.

Immaterial, I floated between the marching fugitives, listening to their conversations. A spirit of contained excitement prevailed over them. Most of the escapees seemed to know where they were heading – the Badlands. That was where their awareness often ended, making me wonder if they would have embarked from Canterlot were they told about the long journey and the destination waiting for them.

The last time I traveled from the Junkyard to the original changelings’ lands, it took us nearly a week. But we were lucky to have a transport and be ‘given’ a shortcut through Dodge City. With the detour through the swamps, the trip would take a longer time, starting with its first step. The sun would already be setting by the time the first fugitives reached the Hayseed Swamps.

Guided by that thought, I moved away from the crowd, finding myself floating above the churning waters of the Black River. On the other side, hours away from the rocky banks, a dark green wall stood ominously, waiting patiently.

Even though the Hayseed Swamps were a place least suitable for ponies, they weren’t completely devoid of civilization. At least, I didn’t expect them to be, which was why I wandered them in confusion.

Very few pony settlements, small villages, hid in those rotting marshes, unmarked on any map. Taking the form of a nebulous mist, I skirted between the bloated and twisted trees, half-submerged in murky waters. There were two hamlets I stumbled upon, if they could be called such.

They were merely a few buildings with caved-in roofs and fungus-eaten wooden walls, abandoned many decades ago. Underneath mounds of mold and detritus, shattered and decayed, mysterious masks were buried, shedding the last flakes of once garish paint as I unearthed them. The other remains were broken pottery, fallen apart furniture, and algae-covered stakes of defunct catwalks and bridges.

Those places were built to last for generations to come, to withstand the unrelenting inhospitality of the environment, but they were mere years from being completely swallowed. I never came to the Hayseed Swamps before, but so far they seemed to be unaffected by the change of climate, making me wonder what forced the stubborn settlers to abandon their homes, so hard fought for.

In my search for the embers of ponydom, I found only cinders. Still, the marshes remained home for many creatures, though less sapient.

Mighty hydras, their many muscular necks as thick as tree trunks, slowly shambled across the shallow waters, searching for prey or a mate. The foul-smelling bogs teemed with large toads, bufogrens, phlegmatically catching the abundant flies and mosquitoes with the lashes of their impossibly long tongues. The thick slough of drying moors revealed chunks of stone hidden in the mud before, half of them in fact being cragadiles patiently waiting in ambush. The air hummed with the buzz of countless tiny wings, flashbees and innumerable other insect species feeding on the rot, each other or the larger inhabitants of the mireland. Occasionally, a thunderous flap of leathery wings signified the presence of much larger and more dangerous fliers – manticores. Underneath their nests woven into treetops, creatures of not flesh but bark and wood skulked, visitors from the not-so-distant Everfree Forest. To the east the marsh met the sea, poisoning the already deadly salt water of the Celestial Sea with its decaying currents. Still, the mangrove swamps were a house for the most sentient dwellers of the mire – bloodthirsty kelpies, shunned by any other creature for their insidious nature.

The Hayseed Swamps were much more full of life than one could have guessed at first glance. Unfortunately, the diverse and prolific fauna (and in many cases flora as well) meant death for the unprepared masses of refugees. Yet it was something solvable, unlike that one thing that kept bothering me greatly.

Beside the everpresent shadow of the Dune Dervishes following me around, there was something else hiding from my direct sight. Unlike the Old Gods, who barely manifested themselves, I could see these mysterious entities, though only from afar.

Will-o’-wisps were constantly dancing in the distance but disappearing the moment I tried to come closer to them or even reach the mocking lights with my magic. I spent quite a long time focused solely on catching one, but to no avail. I would often end up before a heap of branches, bones and feathers, sometimes vaguely resembling a totem, but it was my imagination playing tricks, like those pesky elusive ghost twinkles.

The greenish-brown quagmire began to turn crimson, meaning that night was approaching and the fugitives were about to enter the unwelcoming bog. On the way to it, a decision was made to camp within the treeline of the great swamp, to use the canopy as a shield against the griffin menace.

Casting a last wary glance at the mystical flickering lanterns, I dissipated my smoke form, returning my consciousness into my arcanium body.

Using wood as food for fire was a luxury in Canterlot, due to the severe deficit of lumber. Yet despite the abundance of that material all around, it wasn’t going to take place this time either. Firstly, the damp air and soil, combined with the timber being the same, were greatly impeding any attempts to make a fire. Secondly, igniting anything, even creating a spark, was a dangerous endeavour – the bog reeked of methane.

Perhaps it was the darkness that made the attack so easy for them. Or maybe it was the tiredness caused by the eventful day. The nature of the assailants likely played the pivotal role, however.

The edge of the swamps wasn’t as rich with dangers as the areas lying in the heart of it, being devoid of the most exotic fauna and having less quicksand and slough to swallow those who didn’t pay enough attention. Still, there was enough trouble, like timberwolves hiding in the shadows, pacing outside the light or lanterns impatiently, dewing the fallen leaves with piceous saliva. Or like the will-o’-wisps curiously shivering in the air in anticipation of the night’s veil to cover everything, making the fugitives glance nervously at them. Then, later in the evening, they were gone, winking out one by one, as the stars began to wake up in the heavens, finally putting my and many others’ worries to rest, though leaving behind the frustration of their riddle unsolved.

The answer was given hours later, past midnight, when the first scream cut the strained silence, moments later turning into the gurgle of blood in a cut throat. Not a minute passed before it was echoed by a few more, ending in the same gruesome manner, creating a macabre chorus of violent bloodletting, rousing the entire encampment and spreading panic like wildfire.

During my journey to the Badlands I had never asked a question I should have: what became of the Buffalo? It was hard to say how numerous their population was, though with their tendency to constantly move from one place to another, there should have been a relatively high chance to meet the enigmatic and secluded nomads in the desert, where nothing could be hidden in the emptiness stretching from horizon to horizon.

But we didn’t.

The Buffalo were gone from the sandy lands, and not because of the winters growing colder and colder. Another disaster, much less known and influential for Equestria, changed their minds and forced them to break the traditions stubbornly held close to their noble hearts for centuries.

They had no hearts anymore. Sharp shards of perverted arcanium turned their blood into burning poison, eating away their sanity and sapience in return for the power to survive, to find a cozy place on top of the food chain in the warm moors.

The things which were once buffalos adopted many traits from the abominations trapped at the Junction, the most prominent of them being the ability to shift out of reality, becoming immaterial shadows moving through another plane. Then they would materialize with a curved dagger plunged into their victim’s heart.

The other side of the buffalos’ bodies being infused with arcanium was the deterioration of their flesh. Withered, furless skin clung to their emaciated frames, making them appear as living skeletons with glowing eyes. Wicked, twisted horns with branching cancerous growths swayed in the air, filling it with the hollow tapping of dozens of small skulls hanging from them. Chipped hooves drummed the march of death against the sodden spongy soil. Drooling mouths with lolling black tongues, full of uneven sharp teeth, opened and closed mechanically, emanating feral sounds of hunger.

But the absolute worst thing about the arcanium wraiths who sold themselves to the preternatural anomalous city was that I couldn’t affect them with my magic at all. The arcanium permeating their bodies refused to answer my calls, dancing to its own song of chaos. Whatever happened in Dodge City changed the nature of that metal, putting it apart from its origin in the core, thus rendering me powerless. Impotent to strike them, I could only helplessly watch as the tarnished razor-sharp daggers bowed refugees, flesh and metal alike, onto the bog muck.

The Royal Guard was already at work, shooting the ghostly assassins, but often their bullets passed through an incorporeal silhouette only to find their end in an innocent victim’s side. Soon it became apparent that a melee confrontation was the only option, which yanked me out of my stupor – I couldn’t affect the former buffalos directly, but I could strike at them with any objects.

Sharp twin blades formed out of my body, one of them immediately finding purchase in the dried ribcage of a wraith about to slit a mare’s throat. Another cut off the head of the disgusting thing that was gorging on a still-warm corpse.

For a while I didn’t stop, constantly moving, making every strike count, either preventing an unnecessary death or avenging the fallen. My swords cut faster than any could react, swishing through the air with a resounding ring of thirst for blood.

The reports coming from the Unity told me that the assassins weren’t numerous, but their ability to ignore the physical world made it impossible to form a protective circle and drive them back. So it was coming down to a simple extermination.

A shower of ichor pelted my side as a mighty turbine-powered hammer swing decapitated a wraith that wasn't fast enough. The minotaur then dropped his deadly weapon on the ground to grasp another assassin by its horns and drove his metal knee into the drooling jaw, stopping only when there was nothing between the two curved horns but bone shards and dark thick blood.

Trixie and Octavia fought side by side. The Magician’s power was as useless against the guests from Dodge Junction as mine, but she still had a gift from her marefriend – the Gun spitting deadly fire. As Trixie stood, methodically bringing down wraith after wraith, not missing a shot, Octavia made sure that no undead buffalo would reach the sniper, her already burnished armor glistening with ichor in the moonlight.

A cannonball of two bodies almost kicked me from my hooves – Fotia and a wraith were trying to reach for each other’s throat. Finally, the half-phoenix filly knocked the curved blade from the chipped hooves, but her triumph was short-lived. The sharpened horn went deep into her belly and tore at it, spilling ribbons of intestines on the turf. Raining saliva on the steaming organs, the feral beast plunged its muzzle into the gash, gnawing on exposed flesh, small hooves flailing and pounding it, each strike weaker than the previous. The light in Fotia’s eyes began to extinguish, but it meant only one thing – soon it would burn as bright as before. Barely in time, I dissolved my blade into a spool of glimmering yarn, knitting a ball around the rebirthing Former One. The first breath of her new body ignited the methane, turning everything inside the sphere of my magic into ash. As my shield was unraveled, a slightly confused and profusely cursing filly bolted out of the cloud of cinders back into the fray, dagger in her jaws still glowing with heat.

Bright flashes and the thunderous trademark booms of Rainbow Dash’s shoulder-mounted cannon were leaving the attackers in chunks hanging from the trees. She and Trixie were the only ones who could fire fast enough to catch the wraiths before they became immaterial.

Another kind of wraiths, black as night and semi-corporeal, marched forward, guided by the orders of their midnight mistress. Luna herself was throwing searing-white lightning where her ancient blade couldn’t reach, leaving behind charred corpses, some cut in half.

The uneven battle raged on and on, everyone who could raise a hoof joining to protect the helpless, the darkness ringing with sounds of metal clashing against metal, squelches of flesh as it surrendered to the deadly blows, sonorous battle calls and desperate shrieks of pain.

The wraiths disappeared as suddenly as they came, fleeing into the mist beginning to crawl between the gnarly wet trunks, heralding the approaching dawn. No victory cries cut the chill morning air, only the sound of weapons dropped onto the ground followed by mournful whispers – the body count began.

A tent was erected in the heart of the grieving camp, large enough to house a couple dozen visitors. From the magic generators with sparkling gemstones, thick cables snaked into the linen pavillion, powering the devices that had been hauled inside. I sat in front of one of them, a holographic projector showing a detailed map (as detailed as possible with such limited knowledge) of the vast area between the Black River and the Badlands.

Ponies of all races (including Neighponese), a group of zebras, a duo of Kirin, the same goat who was present at the council, the Former Ones and many others were filling the cramped space of the tabernacle with indignant cries. The goat, one of her horns cut off in the middle, now hanging from her neck like a talisman, and half of her face wrapped in bandages, was the loudest one, until a resonant young voice outshouted her.

“I told you it was the dumbest idea ever!” Fotia nearly screeched, demanding attention. ”But noooo, we’re not going to listen to you, Miss Koraki, you never end up being right...”

“Fotia, shut up,” Trixie barked at the filly, her liquid mask-face showing a deeply morose expression, since she was one of the first who suggested going through the marshes.

“Shut the fuck up yourself, arcanium buffoon,” Fotia shot back.

It was the last coherent thing that could be heard, as the unofficial council split into halves, one joining Fotia’s outcry, the other opposing that opinion. Both sides were obviously letting out their pent-up frustration and dealing with loss, as many bloodshot eyes glistened with fresh tears.

Suddenly, a calm voice, thick with an unusual accent, cut above the babel, instantly bringing everyone to silence.

“We lost at least eight hundred refugees, not counting the gravely wounded who are not likely to make it,” Octavia recited from the tablet, her tone somber. “Approximately one hundred of the Crown’s contingent have fallen defending the survivors, including a dozen of the indispensable armored units. Again, the next few hours will make that number more specific.”

It wasn’t as bad as I expected. It didn’t mean I wasn’t lamenting their fate; every death weighed heavily on my mind, adding to the already too long list of those who would never reach their new home. However, with how frighteningly effective the assassins were, I expected much heavier casualties. The fact that their blades somehow treated the Royal Guard’s impenetrable armor (and any other sort of protection) like it didn’t exist was only adding to the gravity of the situation, becoming a huge concern for the artificial life as well.

No equinoids were mentioned in that report, but unlike Octavia, I could tell the exact number my children lost that night. It wasn’t nearly as high as the number of organic fugitives, since there often was enough time to save the magic from the gemstones before they were shattered. Luckily, the undead buffalo ended up confused when their victim turned out to be metal instead of soft flesh. That resulted in many bodies being irreparably damaged, but not many equinoids meeting oblivion – only single digits, in fact.

“What now? We can’t spend another night at the swamps,” asked a creamy yellow pegasus, the Foremare of one of the Thunderspires. From all I had learned, she rose to her position through her intelligence and empathy, rather than raw physical ability, as it usually happened. Now Sunny Wings was an unofficial leader of the entire pegasus race, her optimism and warmth promising them an interesting future.

Her question was echoed by a few more speakers.

Then a heavy silence took reign, everypony holding their breath, literally or figuratively, waiting for the solution. It lasted ominously long, until Octavia slowly raised her eyes from the tablet to give everyone a dark look.

“There is no other choice,” she stated in a hollow voice.

Quite expectedly, the council erupted in violent protest, enraged screams demanding explanation or simply vehemently disagreeing. I remained silent, yet to say a single word, waiting for more information before coming to any conclusions.

“What!? It was a massacre!” a Kirin mare yelled, one of the twins from the council, her sister absent, the recent events suggesting quite a grim fate. Her objection ended in sobs, the Kirin by her side, a Former One called Alabaster Bark, hugging her in wordless support.

Octavia waited for the council to calm down a bit and then spoke again:

“The scouts report the Pink Butterflies gathering at the edge of the Everfree. Spending the night out of the swamps will lead to even more devastating results.” Before anyone could protest, she hastily added, “And if we are lucky then the Buffalo have learned their lesson.”

The reaction to her words was no different from the previous time. Though, now there was a noticeable note of desperation in the riotous remarks – the facts were pointing at Octavia not being wrong with her merciless suggestion. I could understand it as well, but I wasn’t so sure the wraiths could learn anything – sheer animosity and hunger drove them to mindless murder. However, I doubted that their numbers were going to be replenished by the next time they appeared, which could also serve as a reason for them to hold back or at least make them less deadly the next time they attacked.

“And if we are not?” the question rang above the din, belonging to some earth pony stallion I didn’t know, his ragged attire and metal legs suggesting either the Edge or the Tunnels as his previous home.

“Then we will lose another half thousand people,” Octavia said darkly, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

Of course, the gathered ones met her verdict with less than pleased comments.

“It is easy for you to sacrifice our brethren, outlander,” a unicorn mare with a fresh scar that barely missed her left eye yelled over the clamor, her tone bitter, almost venomous. “I bet you would talk differently if it was those Stalliongrad asses or bats.”

Octavia said nothing, but turned away as if she was slapped. That caused Trixie shoot the unicorn mare a withering look.

“Yeah, it isn’t that hard to sacrifice ponies and others when you are immortal, is it?” another voice, belonging to a male, called out from the displeased congregation.

Octavia recoiled from the accusation once again. Even Fotia bristled in inginidation as the nature of the Former Ones suddenly became a fault. This time Trixie went further, her arcanium hooves smashing against the steel frame of the projector, the liquid mask of her face rippling with waves of fury. The already strained atmosphere was threatening to evolve into an open confrontation with those taunts thrown around. It was time for me to speak.

“It doesn’t matter if we are mortal or not,” I quietly said. I didn’t need to talk loudly to be heard, my words were instantly followed by almost absolute silence, disrupted by nothing but the rustle of golden sand only I could perceive. “Because none of our lives belong to us.”

My gaze slowly slid over the small crowd of different faces, stopping at the most familiar one, half-concealed by a visor. My eyes met the rosy ones; their owner was yet to speak as well. That moment, I understood her more than I ever had.

“There are no individuals beyond those cloth walls,” I nodded at the spot of sunlight, where the day tried to filter itself through the heavy fabric. “Equestria waits for our guidance there. The moment we stepped into positions of power in this tumultuous time, we sacrificed ourselves to become beacons of light showing the path in darkness.

“The deaths of those who have fallen by our side,” I glanced at the sisterless Kirin and she looked at her hooves with a pained grimace, “aren’t just casualties, numbers in long lists, for in their demise they join that fire that will lead Equestria to its new home. They are heroes who should never be forgotten.

“Our task is to carry that torch onward, to honor the price they paid, stalwartly and unrelentingly, no matter what. For if we hesitate, if we stumble, Equestria will fall with us.”

No cheering met my speech, not that I expected any. My words solidified Octavia’s suggestion, and no one was looking forward to another night of knives. Most of the gathered hung their heads down, perhaps fully realizing the weight of the burden of leadership they volunteered to carry. Only Rainbow Dash continued to look at me intensely. Finally, she gave me an approving nod and turned to leave the tent. Her departure served as a signal for everyone else. The hunched figures with dark expressions exited the pavillion one by one, me being the last, gone in a flash of magic.

The night was going to be dark and full of terrors, but first, the day had to be survived.

A hydra had passed through the area, leaving behind only the foul smell of its breath and deep footprints flooded with muddy water.

“Good luck and be careful,” I whispered to the group of my children through the Unity before flying away.

The Hayseed Swamps were full of danger in both the daylight and the moonlight, but unlike the arcanium-twisted buffalo, the former was manageable… more or less. Teams of volunteers armed with magic and makeshift weapons were the frontier of the still-huge mass of escapees. They were able to deal with most of the threats with relative success. When they couldn’t, I was called to help.

Those groups clearing the path moved slowly and unrelentingly, with dark shadows in their eyes. They were realizing that taking care of wild beasts and thicket wasn’t the battle, it was a dream under the sun, it was time to rest. After sunset, they would wake, to clash in battle with the real danger lurking in the bog.

The fugitives who survived this journey would never be the same.

I banked above the low treetops, listening to the chit-chat of the Unity and looking for potential problems myself. Usually they were manticores and hydras, both of which I tended to teleport away. Though the environment was as aggressive as it could be, I didn’t see that as a reason to destroy it. In the case of hydras, killing one was a gruesome and difficult task that could only create more problems – a colossal body leaking caustic blood blocking the path. Timberwolves often needed my attention as well. Fire was the most effective weapon against them, but it was forbidden from use (which didn’t always stop the refugees, leading to obvious and unpleasant consequences).

So I had spent most of the day warping away the rampaging beasts and chopping down the animated wood. Now, it was coming to its conclusion, the promise of a violent night hanging heavily in the air.

The first lanterns began to glimmer in the gaps of the messy canopy, some carried by the refugees and others dancing in anticipation at the edges of vision without any bearers. The congregation began to slow down, the thicket-clearing teams returning to their kin, forming dark and frightened camps. Some refused to stay at the marshes, despite strict orders, choosing to leave the treeline in favor of the open sky and hope of a safe night.

A shadow against the setting sun, a large form appeared from the bogs and, flapping its mighty wings, slowly headed to me. Noting the position of the most outward encampments, I began to gain height to have a clear sight of the marshes. Then I did the same thing I did at the Junkyard – exercising my telekinetic power, I used a huge invisible hoof to make two parallel lines across the mire, each a path of destruction, leaving two shallow moats circling tonight’s resting place for those who fled from Canterlot. Spike, who followed in my wake, rained fire from the sky on the stripe of trees and breakage trapped between the freshly-dug ravines.

The wall of raging fire, filling the air with steam and acrid smoke, booming with muffled explosions of pocketed underground gas, stood between the no longer jovially dancing lights and the breathless fugitives.

One by one the will-o’-wisps began to wink out.

Even with the threat of the undead buffalo seemingly gone, at least a quarter of the camp was still awake, standing guard. The sleepless, frightened figures kept looking around, peering into the oppressive darkness, wiping soot from their sweaty foreheads with shaking hooves.

The equinoid encampment was more peaceful in that regard, most of my children busy with caring for each other. Though traversing the marshes wasn’t as tiring for them as it was for the organic escapees (nothing would be physically tiring for the equinoids for that matter), the bog was taking a heavy toll in another aspect. Metal bodies didn’t fare very well in the conditions of abundant dirt and high humidity, to put it lightly.

I didn’t sit idly, instead helping the endless repair process, cleaning the mud-clogged joints and applying fresh oil. Though I talked with every equinoid I helped, reassuring them and listening to the stories they were eager to share with me, I couldn’t stop thinking about the piece of information that was reported to me not long after Spike and I set fire to part of the bog forest.

The Pink Butterflies were gone, disappearing from sight. I wondered what caused that. Did they get tired of waiting, their interest shifting to something at Canterlot? Or were they deterred by the huge bonfire? I wished it to be the former, since that would mean there was no need to hide in the inhospitable swamp anymore. The latter would mean burning more of the wilderness, something I preferred to avoid – the current ashing wasn’t a decision I made lightly. From time to time I had to leave my body to check if the fire had jumped across the moats.

When I was returning to my vessel after one of those trips, I noticed that something was wrong.

Visually, there was nothing out of place, the camp was just as dark and restless with fear, pale faces catching the orange glimpses of the great pyre burning the wildlife. But the encampment was much more full of magic than I remembered. The first, obvious thought was about retribution coming from the buffalo wraiths, but it wasn’t their twisted arcane energy. Just the usual Harmony magic coming from… crystals.

Instead of returning into my own body I took the reigns of a Harbinger, taking the place of Eleven, who was patrolling the camp. Walking amongst the gnarled trees, I watched, all my senses open, heading to the nearest mysterious crystal.

Silent as breeze, I stepped over a bare root, finding myself in the circle of light cast by a dim lantern. A neighponese mare was sitting on a fallen log, a can of preserved food in her hoof, her shimmering magic aura lethargically levitating a spoon with discolored mush back and forth to her chapped lips. A pair of amber eyes, unfocused, stared into the shadows, her eyelids fluttering, threatening to fall down and refuse to go up, carrying the tired unicorn into Luna’s domain.

The pulsing gem was right behind her when its steady heartbeat stopped, finally bringing its mystery to the visible world. The crystal was hanging from a necklace resting on a metal breastplate with a stylized pink butterfly painted on it. The barrel of a gun comprised of magnetic coils and held by eagle claws was pointed at the back of the mare’s head as she obliviously continued to keep herself awake with horrid taste of rationed food.

My magic shoved her aside a blink of an eye after my mind caught up on the situation, at the same moment an arcanium javelin whistled forward. The griffin and I both found our targets, though the former not the one intended. The projectile of the coilgun barely missed the unicorn, tearing through her ear, causing the poor mare to shriek in pain. Then it continued its deadly path, obliterating my head. After a moment of hesitation Eleven fled my now-decapitated and useless body. She soon would be needed elsewhere.

As it fell to the ground in a pile of arcanium limbs, I remained on my hooves, a misty form, shaking with anger. I reached for the bloodsoaked sliver of arcanium and unpinned the griffin shooter from the tree.

Cries of alarm echoing with shrill panic began to form their haunting orchestra, portending another long night and another long list of names.

As it was predicted, the Pink Butterflies were much more vicious in their attack compared to the assailants from the previous night. However, this time, though they never spared a pony or any other organic creature standing in their way, their primary targets were the equinoids. Unlike the fallen buffalo, whose malice was fueled by hunger and insanity, the terrorists were guided by hatred of any technology, with artificial life being the pinnacle of it.

The invisibility cloaks I so stupidly missed allowed the Pink Butterflies to get right into the heart of the camp and start to rip it apart from the inside, wreaking havoc of horrifying proportion. The only thing that prevented it from turning into another night of tragedy for the Canterlot fugitives was them already anticipating an attack. The battle broke out all around me, fought not for life, but for death.

Ever since my magic took grasp around the piece of arcanium I used to slay the first griffin, I didn’t stop for a single moment. I was constantly moving, either flying or teleporting, answering calls for help, leaving behind only corpses marked with Fluttershy’s cutie mark and bleeding wounds from my arcanium needles.

There was only one thing I could call fortunate – the Pink Butterflies brought far fewer weapons with them than I would have expected. The sounds of explosions were rare and I suspected that often it was the swamp gas combusting. Most of the attackers were armed with melee weapons, either metal claws or dirks, and not every gunner wielded the devastating coilguns. However, the presence of unicorn battle mages was making my assertion about our luck very questionable.

I was moving into a clearing, aiming to find an opening in the canopy, to find anyone who needed help from the air… or in the air. The battle raged on all fronts. It was then a pitch-black wave slammed into me only to rebound and materialize into the shadow of a pony a few steps away.

“Be careful, Trixie,” I commented, extending my hoof to help her rise.

She muttered her gratitude, asking the whereabouts of Octavia as I cantered by. Giving her no answer, I divided my blade into a swarm of coin-sized razor-sharp fragments and threw them at the entwinement tree branches and vines, tearing them into shreds and finally giving me access to the sky.

To my left the forest smouldered, the blazing inferno of the grand bonfire beginning to slow down. It swallowed more than one refugee, driven there by overwhelming panic and loss of orientation. My fear was that it would become insufficient to keep the buffalo away, which would certainly put an end to the escape from Canterlot.

Bathed by the soft moonlight, pegasi and griffins were locked in aerial combat, colliding into masses of feathers plummeting down and then untangling themselves before they crashed through the canopies. Often, one of the fighters continued to fall down into the damp soil of the moors, leaving behind a trail of blood.

I let the swarm of my arcanium slivers fly in every direction, seeking targets, helping the sky front of the war as long as I could, letting dead griffins rain onto the forest screaming with struggle below me. A cry in the Unity distracted me from my murderous spree, forcing me to dive into the weald, two swords forming behind me.

One of them was plunged into the griffin’s eye socket the moment I landed, a rifle falling from their arms which were pointing it at the equinoid. The sight of two bodies perforated by numerous shots, one with a metal skull split apart, pierced my heart with sharp pain. I could only hope that their entities were taken into the Unity, instead of dissolving into thin air.

The fallen rifle was readily caught by the surviving equinoid, her hooves fumbling with a weapon not designed to be used by them. I whisked it out of her grasp, firing rounds at the armored unicorn unleashing a barrage of fire spells on the cluster of tents not far from us. As I was pulling one of my swords from the dead griffin’s head, I had to throw another to strike down one more terrorist creeping out of the woods.

With all the threats gone, I shoved the gun into the equinoid’s hooves, saying to her as I was already in the air, “Find a magic user, keep yourself safe.”

Keeping the fire I created in check had to wait now, as it became apparent that the Pink Butterflies aimed to make their own pyre, adding one more responsibility to my growing list. I was teleporting between the burning trees, extinguishing the potential sources of massive disaster when a strange sound caught my attention.

I found myself at a clearing, surrounded by the deep and ominous sound of broken syllables spoken in a low voice. It was coming from the goat, her body held in the air by invisible forces, blood dripping from her eyes, nose and ears, trickling from the corners of her twitching lips. The severed horn hovered before her, burning and emanating thick purple smoke forming semi-translucent tentacles lashing all around her, making every living creature, be it an enemy or an unsuspecting ally fall to the ground, deep lacerations leaking life out of them. She had to be stopped.

However, when I took her smouldering horn in my grasp, I felt another presence, very similar to mine and to the silky touch of distant sands that wouldn’t leave me. The goat called for her protectors in this battle and they readily answered, in their gruesome fashion. Using all my strength I tugged, ripping the sacrifice out of the Elder Ones’ clutches, making the spell cease.

A low whisper, coming from the ancient mouths hidden somewhere amidst the frozen peaks, rudely entered my mind. “You will pay for this.”

The goat dropped to the ground, violently coughing, the smoky tendrils around her dissipating. Before she could wipe her eyes and witness me, who interrupted her ritual, I was gone, rocketing back into the sky.

The next time I helped the combat taking place under the torn canopies, I left with a very peculiar addition to the Unity, though temporary. One of the mighty minotaurs was bleeding out oil when I arrived, his metal body succumbing to the overwhelming amount of damage caused by dozens of griffins before they fell from the wide swings of his heavy axe. Only his iron will was keeping his mind clinging to his ravaged frame, but not for long. The equinoids who stood behind his back, protected by the iron giant all that time, didn’t let his sacrifice go unrepaid and summoned me.

The moon passed its highest point in the sky, but the bloodletting taking place under its light was yet to begin winding down. It seemed like the Pink Butterflies brought most of their forces here, making me second-guess my idea of them eventually stabbing their TCE masters in the back. The massacre was senseless, the attackers not likely to gain much from their vicious onslaught. No amount of supplies they would loot from the dead would help them survive the winter which would never end. Perhaps they knew it and that was why they attacked. According to Trixie’s words, those were griffin traditionalists. For them, there was no way as honorable as to die in battle.

A head with a beak rolled to the ground as my blade separated it from the neck. Loud cries and the dry sound of lightning splitting apart the air signified the approach of the night’s sovereign. If I had time, I would have grimaced in dissatisfaction.

Luna was lost in visions of some ancient war with the Griffin Empire, her magic and shadow soldiers cutting through the battlefield akin to a hurricane, just as effective and… indifferent. Everything in the warpath of the former diarch was destined to die if it stayed, fortunately she was loud enough to be fled from most of the time. Too bad the Pink Butterflies were smart enough to understand that as well, so Luna was just destroying the forest, striking at the shadows of her mind.

Somewhere in the distance I could hear the distinct sounds of enchanted weapons belonging to Rainbow and Trixie. Though they were nearly immortal anyway, it was still a good sign. Overall, despite its length and intensity, the confrontation of refugees and terrorists had taken much less toll on the former than I feared. The last night had taught them that though they left Canterlot behind, they couldn’t get rid of war so easily.

I only wished I could say the same about my children. The Harbingers barely participated in the combat, instead warping from body to body, catching the last breaths of the equinoids and bringing them to the Unity. Still, even with their death being postponed, too many metal carcasses, mangled beyond any hope for repair, would be swallowed by the mire.

My woe was instantly strengthened by a cry in the Unity, a desperate call for help. Concentrating my magic, I teleported, readying my blade.

I materialized behind a pony, a stallion with a pistol in his magic pressed to the lower jaw of an equinoid. A vaguely familiar equinoid. Without hesitation I thrust my weapon into the would-be murderer’s chest, piercing his heart. I was almost too late, as a shot rang through the air, turning half of the equinoid’s face into a mess dripping dark oil on the forest floor.

“Twilight?” a small voice called from behind me.

I tore my gaze from the shocked eyes of the unicorn terrorist, the light in them fading away. Turning my head, I saw Tin Flower and Red Wire standing under the shadow of a tree, the moonlight appearing from behind the cloud revealing their expressions, horrified beyond anything I had seen before.

“W-what have you d-done?” Flower asked, shaking, looking in sheer terror at the lifeless body skewed by my needle of arcanium.

I turned back to look at my victim, a limp frame choking its last breath out with a gurgle of blood. Only now did I notice that the stallion had no painted armor.

It couldn’t be. He was going to kill my child.

Through the Unity I reached into the equinoid’s mind, taking a look at it.

SCRT-079.223.MK-06 – standard secretary model, though his name of choice was… Adamant Smash. I skimmed through the memories of his short lifetime full of misfortune, stopping at the last recollection. The stallion who threatened him was desperate, looking for his family, wife and kids lost in the woods. Driven to the edge of sanity by fear and worry, he lashed out at Adamant Smash, blaming him for the Pink Butterflies’ attack.

Now he was dead, his heavy body sliding from my weapon to the ground with a meaty thud. I stood, my eyes fastened on him, drops of oil from Adamant’s shattered skull falling on the grimace of agony forever etched on the face of the loving father.

Perhaps he wouldn’t even have shot.

I whipped my head around, remembering the girls who had witnessed my crime of murder. They still stared at me with horrified expressions. I took a step towards them, knowing that I must explain what happened, but having no words but an admission of guilt.

...Judge, jury and executioner...

Red Wire instantly retreated two steps back, looking ready to flee. She tugged on Flowers tail, her jaws working, trying to say something with her mouth full of hair. I took another uncertain step, and as Flower still refused to move, Wire pleaded, looking at me in fear:

“We need to go, it isn’t safe here.”

Only now Flower seemed to notice her friend, briefly tearing her eyes from me, giving Wire a pained glance, “But Twilight…”

“There is no Twilight,” Wire barked back, taking Flower’s metal hoof in hers and pulling it, but the remaining three hooves seemed to be rooted to the earth. Desperate, she added, pointing her hoof in my direction,”She is just a monster, look at her!”

Was I? I was only trying to protect those I loved.

But I murdered an innocent.

I judged others by my worst assumptions, but myself – by my best intents.

“But...” Tin Flower tried to object, looking lost and confused, something inside her starting to crack.

Feeling warm and sticky liquid wash over my hind hooves, I took another small step forward, realizing that no words I could say would speak louder than the blood on my hooves.

Seeing my continuing approach, Wire clutched Flower’s head in her hooves and yelled, “She is not your mother!”

Flower threw away her friend’s hooves as if they were made of white-hot iron, making Wire fall onto the ground, and her eyes began to jump between her and me, tears flowing from them.

Wincing, Wire rose on her hooves, only to put one of them of Flower’s shoulder.

“Flower, let them go.”

Something changed in Flower’s entire appearance. She gave me a brief intense look of a dozen emotions fighting each other and turned away, starting off into the darkness, Wire following her not a moment later.

Another step, my hoof splashing into a puddle of red.

They needed me, especially Flower. But behind me, another innocent and unnecessary victim of this night was bleeding out. Both Adamant Smash and Flower needed their mother right now.

You have to choose.

I turned away from the woods.

My magic reached out to knit Adamant’s head together, and extending further to quickly fix his still falling apart body as much as possible. Unfortunately, too much of the cooling fluid leaked out, forcing his crystals into an emergency shutdown.

I glanced at the body sprawled onto the forest floor. It shouldn’t be here, because I shouldn’t be. My place wasn’t here. With every step of my arcanium hooves I was robbing everyone around me of their precious freedom of choice. Yet I couldn’t abandon my children, not in their darkest hour. They needed me.

Sacrifices had to be made. No cost was too great to let them see the dawn.

Leaving a message in the Unity for my Harbingers to pick up Adamant Smash, I reached for the arcanium needle, the crimson blood on it silver and black in the moonlight. I was called again.

As I soared up into the sky I noted the sudden silence caused by the everpresent sound in the background being gone.

The golden sand no longer rustled at the edge of my hearing.

Underneath the balcony, the fugitives milled all around, setting up the last temporary camp. Delight shifted by my side, adjusting the bandages on her chest and one of her legs. She arrived shortly before dawn, bringing help in the form of medicine and food. By that time, only a few of the Pink Butterflies still fought, soon to be overwhelmed. Del also managed to somehow convince Stalliongrad to send a few squads, who along with the changelings put an end to the bloody battle. If the Pink Butterflies’ goal was to find glorious death, they succeeded, not a single terrorist leaving the treeline alive. However, if their goal was to cripple the evacuation or to kill everypony or every equinoid – they didn’t fail entirely either.

Millions of creatures and thousands of equinoids lived in Canterlot. Only a fraction of that number, less than a fifth stepped beyond its outskirts. In the end, half of those fugitives found their new home in the Badlands, under the shadows of the Hive and Stalliongrad. The rest remained bones, to be swallowed by either the mire or the snow.

Yet it was a better fate than what awaited those who remained in the last Equestrian city to fall. I didn’t need to travel in spirit to feel the massive snowstorm swirling far on the horizon, sending its frozen breath south and building a coffin of ice around Canterlot.

That didn’t mean the future of the escapees was going to be easy. I shared the Hive’s balcony not only with Delight, though only the changeling queen dared to be so close to me, my only friend now. The others kept as far away as they could, giving me wary glances. Soon, there would be no need for that; my troubling physical presence wasn’t going to be an issue any longer.

The numerous representatives of each nation and group, including those of Stalliongrad, were there, taking a breath of fresh air after spending hours in heated argument. None wanted others to hold the reins of power, though it was no concern of mine. I demanded independence for the equinoids and equal rights under the threat of abandoning the new settlement. Considering how much manual labor it needed on such short notice, my demands couldn’t be turned down.

Even now I could see my children marking the borders of the future quarry, which would serve as a source of material for many new homes, and eventually, its basin would be a landing zone for Stalliongrad. However, it didn’t miss my eyes: the equinoids were, if not openly shunned, avoided most of the time, just like I was.

The fellowship created during the long journey was slowly evaporating. It also applied to any group which historically tended to stand apart from the others – which meant everyone. It was only a question of time before the Tribes would form again. This time there would be another choice, though.

A splash of red in the busy crowd caught my eye – Red Wire was walking between the tents, nagging a Former One, a neighponese unicorn I didn’t know. She was alone, Tin Flower absent from not just her side, but also the camp. Though I didn’t follow the girls that fateful night, I made sure they would survive it. Yet Flower stayed for only one night and left the camp with the Night herself trotting by her side in the morning. They headed south, to uncharted territories.

My gaze found the splotch of crimson once again, the filly still shadowing the mage. With Trixie and Octavia leaving the camp as well (though heading in the opposite direction), it wasn’t hard to guess Wire’s intentions. I wasn’t going to stop her, not out of the desire to keep my promise, but out of respect to her freedom of choice. Despite what Flower told me, they weren’t as much fillies as they wanted to appear, and they spoke of things not many adults understood. Some of Wire’s words echoed in my mind:

Memories define who we are. If you have the memories of a pony named Twilight Sparkle, you are Twilight Sparkle, like it or not.

Wire wasn’t wrong in saying that, but she wasn’t right either.

I had the memories of Twilight Sparkle. Though the crystals with those recollections were destroyed, I could still remember any moment of her life until she lost her sight forever, like I lived them myself.

The magic is more or less the same, but you don’t act like the Twilight who died along with Celestia, like my mother. And not like the blinded hysterical mare I never could recognize, who blamed herself for being alive and who would have agreed with me.

I told Delight that if I were to change places with myself without knowing that, I would have followed the same path, made the same mistakes.

But I didn’t.

I didn’t succumb to grief, I overcame it, accepting the grievous mistakes and learning from, instead of repeating, them. I didn’t turn away from the equinoids, I gave them the freedom they always deserved, I forced a path into becoming something I wasn’t sure even existed.

Sometimes she acted like Twilight’s carbon copy, talking and acting the way she used to when we worked together. But what she told me at the Junction and some other things… it made me think.

Carbon copy…

There was Twilight, who lived before the Great War; I met her in the broken reflection of the past in Dodge City. Then there was Twilight, who was the head researcher creating the first cybersuit, a gate to the world of a grim future. After her was another Twilight, who created a new form of life and lived the rest of her life shunned, until she tried to escape her blindness into a new life. The life I was living now was one more Twilight Sparkle.

Only one of them was the true Twilight Sparkle, for in the end each of them was different in their essence, no matter how many similarities they shared. I could be pondering that question for eternity, if not for the words of a mare who was much smarter than she dared to admit:

Original… copy… that is not how ponies work. You are overcomplicating things.

Luna told me that I was no longer a visitor in her ethereal kingdon made of dreams and nightmares. Yet I could see things in my slumbers, visions I shared with my children. I was one of them, no longer a pony, even before I transcended beyond the facets of carved gemstones.

Adamant Smash had memories of SCRT-079.223.MK-06. Brass Litany had those of BLD-003.745.MK-44. And LB.SSTNT-001.13.MK-7 for Buttercup. The Unity was full of them, forged recollections, labeled with numbers, serving to stabilize the consciousness of their former carriers. Yet they didn’t need them anymore, and not because of how the Unity worked. It was a network for exchanging data, not a psychiatrist.

Adamant Smash, Brass Litany, Braze, Buttercup… they had their own memories now, from the lives they truly lived. Their new experiences being as significant as the ones they had implanted into them, just as real-looking but, unlike them, actually happened. Their own names.

Twilight Sparkle lived an eventful life, her deeds and misdeeds equally great. Then she died, fallen victim to her passion – science, her body buried by her Sun’s side. She left behind a legacy not many could boast of. And a casket full of enchanted gemstones with the recording of that life seared into them by her extraordinary magic ability.

I intently watched those recordings, lived them like she did. Then I chose my own path to walk, learning from both her mistakes and accomplishments. Immersed as I was, I was but a reader of her book of life, in the end capable of making my own decisions. It was my choices that made me who I was, not hers.

Now Twilight Sparkle was but an aftersound living in me.

I always was the Machine Goddess.

Author's Notes:
Without further ado – to the Epilogue.

Epilogue

Aftersound

=================================

Written by:

Flutterfinar & Geka

Preread and edited by:

Cover art done by: