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.