Entry 032 - First Ascension (Part Five)

Mole sang to her audience.

Unlike the rest of the ponies on the stage who seemed to be there to get into the next stage of the Ascension Battles, she was clearly there to bring the song, with her humble voice, to the greater masses within the hall. She nearly ignored the microphone before her, working around it as she delivered each word with the beauty of her spirit. When her eyes cast over everypony else in the room, she shared the meaning of the lyrics with them in the way only that petit sweet cinnamon roll could. She gave them her heart, her soul, and everything she owned in her being, just for a chance that they might see and feel the words coming out of her mouth. I was entranced.

I believe that was why her clock was the fastest to tick around the metal face of the StableTec dial first. I couldn’t let myself think that there was a more nefarious body at work when my little heart of gold was putting all her effort into a performance that might put her in deep trouble.

“They’re my pony,
And they’re fine.
If I could I'd give them
Every single second of my time.
They ain't perfect,
But they’re mine.”

Over her voice came Gypsy’s, working around hers with long sweeping notes. Although the pair were in direct competition, their harmonies danced around each other like seaponies swirling to a pretty, soulful song within a steady whirlpool. The mare with ribbons in her hair pushed her chest out and pressed her hoof over her heart as she felt the next part of the ballad lift in her, pouring out with the richness of gold and silkiness of hot chocolate. The timer behind her swung around on its axis, trailing behind Molasses but only just as the smaller pony climbed and united vocally with her once more.

Trying my best to look over other competitors, I could see that Semi had her eyes closed, doing her best to keep up with the song. I could imagine it was hard not to lose the lyrics when her own fears where praying on her.

There was a brief ponder on my mind. What happened if the ponies couldn’t sing, or forgot the words, or refused to participate? As soon as the thought popped into my head a pony near to the bottom paused.

It seemed from their expression that they’d lost their place with the rest of the group and were frantically trying to nod to the beat and catch up. He wasn’t fast enough for a string of green lights to zip fast as a bolt of lightning over our heads and form a pony marionette beside him. The Minstrel instantly turned to him, flashing between furious red and placid green, causing him to stammer the song even more fearfully. Before I could assume he was doomed and morbidly become fascinated as to whether he might be killed on stage before us, his voice came back to him. Relief flooded his face as he returned to the song. Satisfied that he was singing again, the Minstrel stood by him like a vulture, waiting to pick him apart if he slipped again.

I was so fascinated by the near-catastrophe that I was confused when everybody suddenly roared out a cheer mid-song, making me turn to look about to locate what they were seeing. I glanced at Bones in bemusement, and she leaned forward with her hoof wrapping around the collar of my Stable suit.

“Molasses has just clocked a full rotation of points,” she gestured her other hoof to the pony, laying some of her unsubstantial weight on me. I might have squawked at the news, but I could not even hear myself as I turned my head urgently up to my girl. Sure enough, as she continued to deliver her part in the chorus, the arm of her points marker was already back at the top, creeping around for another sweep around the plate. Seconds later another cry bellowed out, as Gypsy achieved a full revolution too.

“They're my protector,
Like the best older sibling.
They're my sword and shield,
They have never failed me.”

“And the crazy thing about their eyes,
Is the guard dog in them that they disguise,
With puppy looks and crow’s feet in the corners.”

“When a pony gets a full rotation on their points clock, it usually means they’re going to go through to the next round,” Bones called over the music to me, “look at Eventide, for example. She’s barely got past half of her clock and yet she’s in fourth place by the looks of it!”

“Really?” My response was full of wrath. I wanted her to see how unwelcome that news was right now. “That, Boney, is fascinating!” Grinding my beak, I turned back around to scan the rest of the singers. Eventide was indeed fourth, with the couple on the fourteenth spot coming third. In the other few conquering places, it seemed to be the stallion in a straw hat, a mare on the seventh marker, and Semi Skimmed.

“They're one of the best friends I’ve ever had,
They’ve never ever made me mad,
Even though their mind lives in the gutter.

“Of all the ponies in this world,
And every mess that I've been hurled,
I’m happy to say that this one is mine.

“They’re my pony,
And they’re fine.”

They were on the final stretch. They knew it, I knew it and the audience knew it. There was the odd gasp as the couple grew closer to the top of their clock, somepony who must have known them already stomping their hooves. I felt a nudge beside me and turned to see Bones had moved her hoof to her mouth to stifle whatever she was thinking. She glanced at me and tried to lower her eyebrows, but there was some concern there that seemed to stunt it from becoming a full frown at me. Letting it go, I turned back to Mole and Gypsy.

With their backs to their clocks, the only clue they might have had to their progress was the adoration of the crowd, and even that could have been difficult to predict. Regardless, the pair kept singing, forming a beautiful yet deadly duet that rivaled everypony else. They were almost matched, they were now neck and neck on points, as they reached the final part of the song, the last touching words reaching their lips.

“They ain't perfect,
But they’re mine.

“They’re still brilliant,
Even if sometimes they are an idiot,
They ain't perfect,
But they’re mi-iiiiiiiiiiiiine.”

The last harmony joined every voice on stage in one last composition, echoing about the auditorium before the blitz of elated sounds from the audience blurred the melody into one noise. The music gave one last victorious sting before it too succumbed to the laudation made by the mass. These stomps and yells turned into names, many crying “RIBBON RESCUER” and “MOLASSES CANDY” over the other calls caught up inside the mix. I nearly felt my own voice rise up too, but I held back, remembering what Overlook had said. These calls were helping the wheels to keep turning, making up the final tally until finally, all arms of the clocks stopped.

The lights on stage flashed and the rest of the house above the audience slowly illuminated. The band in the pit quickly struck up a few chords of success that sounded eerily similar to the opening jingle to DJ Dreamer’s radio station, and the Overstallion sprang back onto the stage giddy as a lamb.

“Well, well, well! How was that, everypony?” he called, to a bright and eager burst of applause and whistles. He let the jubilance roll for several seconds before he shouted over the crowd and commanded them with the magically increased volume of his voice to listen to him. “There are a few ponies up there who we can see are already going through to the next round, and there are a few surprises too, so let me get down to the nitty-gritty.” As he said that he stomped down a hoof to the floor which brought a column up in front of him, providing him with an illuminated glass tablet. He looked down at it and spoke again, reading from the prompter.

“The winners of this battle and the ponies going through into this month’s Semi-Final are…” A pause. He let the crowd breathe, or rather hold their breath and start to turn blue under the fur, as he looked down at the first name on his desk. It was easily clear which name would meet his lips.

“MOLASSES CANDY!” I was aware of the sound. I could feel the stampede taking place on the spot about me. I could feel ponies jumping for joy. Yet, I could only stare at the chestnut horse nearly hyperventilating on the stage, struggling between the accolades and ovations all for her and the sheer terror at the thought that she’d need to perform again and be a step closer to the unknown. I wanted to leap up, there and then, rip her from the stage and run, but I was frozen to the spot.

Actually frozen, it seemed, as my wings were trapped by a magical force. My recognition of the noise returned as I turned to Bones, her horn lit up as she stared daggers at me.

“Don’t think about it,” she hissed and jabbed me with the point of her hoof. “Breeze has a plan, but she knew you’d freak if your mare won. She taught me this spell so that I can’t let you buck it up.”

“GYPSY BREEZE!” Overlook cried out the second name, confirming Bones’ previous words while Gypsy gave a prim and proper bow, and waved like a princess to her commoners. This was unbearable. I was now facing a scenario where one of the two mares I had and did love, were in a position prime to be plucked out of my life. Staring hopelessly at both of them, I felt like the stars were being cruel to me once more. It was as though they had seen me starting to feel true happiness and had placed the two ponies before me, telling me to choose which one should live and which should die.

“TICKING GEARS AND TRUNDLE WHEEL!” He announced the names of couple who were just above Gypsy and Mole. They gave bright waves and hugged one another with a slight skip for joy. Every name got the same exultant cries of delight from the crowd.

“EVENTIDE!” The mare whinnied gleefully, putting her hooves together as she bowed, her name quickly followed by, “HAYMAKER!” The blonde stallion presented the crowd with a winning smile, swept off his straw hat to give a drawn-out bow, then straightened back up with a pleased wiggle.

The final few ponies on the pyramid looked amongst each other nervously, some trying to look as gracious and congratulatory to their fellow winners while others held out hope that they would be next. Only one pony still had her eyes closed…

“ANNNNND-- SEMI SKIMMED!” They remained that way as her body drooped, almost falling off of the podium. The disappointment in her face was nearly stronger than that of the defeated contestants around her. Then, as though she’d realized the entire hall could see her, she forced a smile and lifted her head to open her eyes. She waved and swung her forelegs in a winning pose, but to those who knew what she faced next and could see that she knew too, there was still trepidation showing between the cracks in her mask.

Three ponies. Three friends who I cared about, all in the running for ascension. I wanted to pass out.

“We’ll take a short one-hour breather to let these fine folks get themselves ready for the next round but for now, let us all congratulate our Semi-Finalists one more time, and commiserations to those who didn’t get through. Better luck next month, folks!” Overlook punched the undisclosed button that sent the plinth back down under the stage. The clatter of hooves echoed amiably around the room. The ponies on the pyramid all waved as it sank back into the stage steadily. I caught one last look at Mole’s shocked expression, stuck like a stone statue of a goddess before she was sucked into the stage. Gypsy’s sober gaze found me as she followed Molasses into the ground. Those eyes were piercing, as though she was trying to inform me that this was all still part of her plan. I watched her last ribbon disappear, and suddenly all I needed was to run away.

No. That wasn’t all I needed…

“I’m gonna get a drink,” I told Bones, not waiting for her to tell me that I couldn’t or suggest that she might come too. I jumped up over the throng and beat my wings, carrying myself across the heads until I could go no further without ducking under the doorway. I dropped back into a space between ponies, shoved my way through the lobby of the theatre and thrust myself into the street, gasping at the first breath of cooler, less stuffy air. Trying to recall the way from here, I took myself up off of the cobbles once more and flew with purpose towards the Hopscotch’s brewery.

Once out of the Songbird Sector, the streets were still deserted. The journey to the brewers had never been so easy. However, as I passed other establishments, I realized that only one in ten stores I passed were showing any signs of life, and even those had no trade or signs advising closure during the Ascension Battles. It seemed highly likely my chosen destination would be shut as well, and when I got to the door I was not wrong.

I stared through the glass into the unlit bar, seeing the lonely reflection of the night blue griffoness with her stupid fading-red bandana staring back at me. The scars on my cheeks and the scruffiness of my feathers used to mean something. I used to be a mean bitch-of-a-bitch. Now I looked as pathetic as a lost, wet kitten in a pen full of hungry dogs. I was a raider, a member of the egg-damned Scoundrels, no less. I wasn’t going to let a little thing like a closed door stop me from enjoying a wee dram.

A soft push to begin with confirmed that the door had been locked, so I crouched down in front of it, scanned the pathway to ensure that no pony was going to trot over and ruin my party, then fetched out a bobby pin and my screwdriver. I say my screwdriver, I’d stashed it away from Elm and Pons when they weren’t looking at their toolkit the night before. Good thing too, I clearly needed it more at this moment than they did.

Stretching and slipping the bobby pin into the lock, I felt about to see if I could feel how difficult it would be to pick first. It was going to be easy, there weren't too many tumblers pins within the cylinder to deal with. I guessed that, with Crusty and his brutes patrolling the streets, there wasn’t much call for stronger locks. A look from those guys could stop the lily-livered Stable ponies from committing crimes. Clearly not this idiot though. I raised the tumblers up with the bobby then inserted the screwdriver and turned. The cylinder twisted like a dream, the pins stayed in place, and I was able to push the door handle down with my beak. The unfastened click was as satisfying to hear as it was to feel.

I slipped through the open door and pushed it closed carefully with a hind paw until it clicked shut. Pleased with my accomplishment, the screwdriver and bobby pin were stored away for another time. Then, I kept low in case a guard chose to pass the window and crept along the floor between the aisles to seek my poison. I decided to find a good strong drink to celebrate the fruits of my labor. After browsing the gins, whiskeys, and wines, I picked up a rum and examined the list of spices on the label.

Rum. It called to mind the pirates in the tall tales my Pa had told me when I was a chick growing up. I grinned cheerily to myself at the idea of being a pirate someday myself, sailing the seas and pillaging seafaring towns with Molasses as my wench. Then my smile drooped, as recalling Mole also returned me to the reality of the situation. I was punched in the gut once more and sullenly looked at the bottle before deciding it was as good a drink as any to heal this broken heart. I held the rum by its neck and wandered across to the bar, reaching over to help myself to a cup as well. The cork was a piece of work for my beak but I soon had it popped out, releasing the spicy scent of good alcohol.

Unfortunately, I was just pouring the dark liquor into my glass when the lights flicked on.

“I hope you’re putting some bits in the till for that.” Whiskey Jack stood at the doorway separating living quarters from the bar area. “How’d you get in? I locked that door...”

I froze to the spot, staring at him in shock. I was that kitten once more, and I imagined him to be the starving dog prepared to swallow me in a single mouthful. Instead, he stared back for a moment, then sighed and waved me in with a tired hoof in my direction, trotting along to fetch himself a glass as well.

“Split the bill. I could use something to drink myself. It’s been a long week.” As I watched him settle down the glass in front of me, I discerned that he didn’t have any clue about my betrayal. Or, if he did know I’d given him up to Procrustean, then he was doing an expert job of hiding it. Despite this, I still eyed him suspiciously as I took the bottle of rum in my talons and slowly poured him a drink.

“Is Poxy back there?” I asked, as carefully and as casually as I could as I pushed his glass back to him.

“Nope,” he took a sip, gave a sigh that might have been obnoxious in other circumstances, then shrugged gently, “haven’t seen her since you two left my place to sing. Heard you gave a great performance then threatened to destroy Mellow Melody though. That’s one way to divide popularities.” He sipped again while I relaxed somewhat, taking a hefty gulp of my own beverage. It was slightly sugary, with a good hint of cinnamon and nutmeg. I think. In all honesty at that point, I was too busy being happy that I had alcohol running into my stomach and was not about to have my beak caved in.

“Aye, well, she was a queen bitch to me, she deserved it,” I smirked, adding, “I wouldae said worse, and done worse if it was just me and her in the room. The lass has a log up her flanks and nay mistakin’ it.”

“Hey now,” Whiskey grunted, causing me to glance up at him. His frown made me groan and shake my head.

“Yer a fan?”

“Yup,” he slurped from his glass, giving me a stink-eye far worse than he’d given me for breaking into the shop in the first place. I decided to relent and let him off with that one. I shrugged my wings with an apology and topped up my glass, moving topics on swiftly. We chatted idly about nothing in particular for a bit and I cannot remember the full details of the conversation, but finally, I got to the thing that I found most curious at that moment in time.

“So it’s just ye here, is it, aye?”

“Yup,” he topped up both glasses and stared into the muddy brown mix before gulping it in one shot. “Agh— Yes. The Hopscotches have gone to see a friend perform in the Battle at the Aria Di Sorbetto.” He glanced my way again suspiciously. “How come you’re not off seeing them yourself. It’s your first time here, not even curious? And isn’t that Gypsy friend of yours in the battles?” Unable to look him in the eye, I stared at the reflection of my yellow bill in the spiced liquid.

“Ye—”

Crash!

The door was flung open by a body with a weapon falling through it. The thousand piece jigsaw of the window spread across the floor around them. Instinct must have kicked in, for rather than flee for my life I leaped out of my seat, flapping once. Without checking who our would-be assailant might be, I smashed my tumbler full of rum across the head of the attacker as they tried to climb to their feet. Talons were on the back of their neck and a foot on their spine once they’d dropped down again in pain and this time I pinned them with a sharp crow of triumph. Success surrendered to humiliation however when I realized who I’d trampled.

“Oh, cheese and crackers, Crow. You’ve just beat up Black Cherry!” cried Whiskey, swiftly darting around the bar and gingerly over the shattered glass to help me get him up.

“I-I didnae know. With an entrance like that, I thought…” I’d thought Procrustean had followed me in and come to get both of us. I didn’t say it, and Whiskey didn’t care to think about it. Black Cherry was in too bad a shape to understand it.

“I just wanted a drink,” he slurred as we heaved him up, brushed down his suit of remaining glass and checked him over. Despite a bruise, a lump on the head and a couple of surface cuts, he looked to be fine. The rest could not be said for his weapon, or what I had suspected of being one, which in fact turned out to be his prized guitar. Its neck was shattered from the fall and several strings had snapped, the two halves held together by the remaining splinters and threads.

I apologized to him ruefully as I held up the remains of the instrument, Whiskey regarding the mess as he returned to us with a first aid kit. The dazed and disquieted Black Cherry also stared at his broken guitar before letting out a wail, sounding in more pain than he had when he had been pounced upon by me. He punched at his own leg with a hoof and then flung both forelegs to his face, whimpering into his hooves.

“G-Gina. I-I’m sorry, y-you di-didn’t deserve this…” he cried softly and sorrowfully. I had no idea what he was on about.

“Err, sorry laddie, it sounds like you’re confusing me with a griff from Griffonstone, what’s left of it,” I motioned to my chest with a free claw, “I’m Crow, from Trotland. No G’s in our names, only birdies. If you like I can--”

“N-No,” he choked, moving his limbs away and pointing to his guitar. It took me several seconds too long to realize his true meaning. “The guitar’s called Gina?” He nodded and his lip wobbled, moaning out horribly once more. Whiskey clopped past him and collected the splinters and strings from my outstretched foot, taking a closer look. Then, glancing back to the sobbing earth pony, he replied, “I can fix this.” That stopped the loud bawling in an instant as Cherry spun around to face him in disbelief.

“Y-You can?” he spoke as though his tongue was swollen, but the fellow earth horse nodded and placed the mess on the bar, sighing.

“But you’re going to have to pay for the door you busted, Black. Attacking you was not a smart thing for the Guardian Griffon to do, but you did startle us by breaking in like that.” Whiskey was surprisingly calm and tolerant of the pony who’d caused damage to the shop he was guarding. However, I had also been guilty of that. As well as breaking and entering. Wisely, I kept my beak shut again.

“Pay? S-Sure, I-I’ll pay… B-But I need a drink first, mister. P-Please?” The pitiful wrench slid his lazy hooves across the brewery to a stool by the bar and spent a full minute getting himself onto it, even after he nearly fell and required our help to sit him there. He eyeballed the bottle of rum on the surface and reached for it, which I moved to stop him from gathering. Whiskey’s leg stretched out and hindered me, to my protests while Black Cherry successfully acquired the rum and turned it up over his mouth. The candied alcoholic liquid fell over his nostrils, snout, tongue, eyes, and suit, some lucky enough to fall into his mouth and gulp down into his guts.

“Why, Whiskey? He’s wastin’ the damn stuff an’ he’s already too squiffy to enjoy the thing,” I complained loudly. The greyish stallion with white blotts in his fur had moved his leg back down and watched the bottle drain into and onto Black Cherry beside me.

“There’s more back there,” Whiskey muttered to me thoughtfully, though what was on his mind was still a mystery to me at that time. I waited for him to say more, but instead, I had a large belch from Cherry near my other ear to contend with. Upon my next look at the pony with the crimson streaks in his tar mane, a curious sight befell me.

The singer and former musician looked startlingly better after guzzling the three-quarters of alcohol we hadn’t been quick enough to finish. This fact was further proved as Black Cherry was able to alight from his chair with far more ease than he’d had perching on it.

“More over there, you said?” He queried, his mispronunciations greatly improved as well. “Th-Thanks, Whiskers, I owe you one.” He slapped down a sack full of bits on the bar before hobbling towards the racks, scanning the labels and cooing happily as he found the drinks he desired. Drinks were the correct definition, as I could see him collecting as many of the bottles as he could safely carry, only stopping when one nearly slipped from his forelegs with a clank against the other bottles.

In the time that I’d been hypnotized by the strange and sudden change in the drunkard, Whiskey had fetched a broom and was making a start on collecting the mess of glass across the floor. He sighed a sigh that came from having to add this chore to the list of things that had made this week a difficult one for him. The repair of the shattered door was equally going to be testy, I imagined. I was briefly reminded that, not a few days earlier, he’d lost a sister, and in some sense of solidarity I found a broom from the same cupboard he’d been into and joined him. My perception was a little off as I brushed, the usual effects that came from drinking liquor. I was feeling it by now; I craved more drink, had an increased lack of care for inhibitions, and a partial forgetfulness of why I’d ended up here in the first place. I certainly wasn’t feeling as spritely as Cherry seemed to be as he returned to the bar and popped the cork from a bottle, starting to guzzle. How had the reverse been true for Black Cherry? I popped the question to Whiskey Jack as I helped him.

“What’s in the magical rum then, eh, Whiskey-boy?” I asked quietly.

“It’s not magic,” he mumbled in response before asking me to help him by holding a dustpan while he swept the shards into it. “He comes in acting this bad and, as peculiar as it might sound, drinking alcohol helps him become lucid. Dunno what it is, whether it’s a mental affliction or some undiagnosed illness. Whatever it is, we still gotta keep an eye on him. If he drinks too much, then he does start getting drunk. The Hopscotches want to be successful without anypony losing the use of their livers. Speaking of which - Cherry, wanna slow down there, bud?”

On the call, the stallion with the darkish brunette fur set the bottle he was on down and sighed pleasantly, glancing back over towards us. He squinted as though he’d left a set of spectacles he was supposed to wear somewhere and couldn’t for the life of him find them, then gave out another grunting burp.

“Hrrrrrp-- ohff… ‘scuse me,” he scratched at his chest with a sigh, and as he did so I noticed his hoof bump off of a lump below his Stable-suit. Surely, he didn’t also have…?

“Wait, I know you…” His head cocked like a confused spaniel and stuck like that for a few seconds, holding my gaze.

“Aye, I’m Crow,” I reiterated. “We met a few days ago in—”

“Oh, fuck off,” he responded in the most Wasteland-ish way I’d heard thus far during my time in the Stable. “You’re Midnight Dreamer’s friend, right? She wants me to convert and lose the deal with Hot Shot? Tell her from me, it ain’t happenin’, sister. You tell her that from me.” He got up, snagging a bottle of nearly clear liquor that could have been vodka, could have been gin and shared a stink eye with me as he trotted towards the door again. I was determined not to lose him this time while he was somewhat-sensible, grabbing him before he marched onto the remaining glass chips.

“I’d struggle with that, my peely-wally chum. Dreamer’s aboot as pleased to chat to me as she is to pop away an’ boil her heed.” I rubbed his back while he moved away from the dangerous fragments on the floor and relieved him of his bottle. The rhubarb gin he’d picked was admired before I tugged out the cork. He scratched his mane with bemusement while watching me swallow away a good gulp of the tasty drink. I swallowed, sighed and allowed an involuntary shiver to travel through me. “Ahh... Tha’s the shite.”

“He-Hey,” he tried to snatch the bottle back, giving up relatively quickly as he barely moved my talons an inch. Easily beaten, he let me sip more as he gave me a look, still unsure of me. “You’re not on Midnight Dreamer’s side?”

“Eh, she’s not on my side,” I corrected him. “She thinks I’m using some wee trinket to tamper with my voice.” His stare was without a single blink for a moment, leading me to wonder whether he’d had a stroke or the alcohol had caught up with him. A subtle drop of his head to stare at my chest let me know he hadn’t died.

“Y-You are using a voice augmenter.”

“I ain’t!” My voice jumped and squeaked at that. I might as well have yelled, ‘I’m the biggest damned liar this side o’ the Ministry Mares!’ Although he was hiccuping on his words, Cherry was as clever as a fox and with a quick slip of his head, he’d produced my feathery chest once more. The medal with the cutie mark engraving of Rara upon it swung from about my neck. I tried to cover up, but a second later Black Cherry drew his own Stable Suit open with a hoof along his breast bone. Out from his opening fell an amulet which I nearly suspected to be identical to mine. It wasn’t.

Instead of a star surrounded by five colorful notes, Black Cherry’s design was that of a sharp black diamond, finished with black and white gemstones. I stared at it in confusion. Several rational questions came to mind, like who's cutie mark that had been, why did he have a similar necklace to me and why was he given it? But by now all the rum and gin that I was still drinking had gotten into my brain.

“Where’d they keep finding the gems for these wee thingies? Did they jus’ hide ‘em all in this wee hole?” I tapped his talisman with a talon. “Y’ever been out in the wastelands? Course ye haven’t, lemme tell you, there’s absolutely NOTHIN’ out there! You’ve been hoardin’ it all in here, you greedy wee--”

“How’d you know she had a voice augmenter? Why haven’t you ever told me or the Hops you had one?” Whiskey interrupted me with more foresight to ask the important questions. Black leaned back from Whiskey as though he was right in his face, despite the stallion leaning on the broom a full pony and a half’s length away from him.

“He-Hey, everypony in Hot Shot’sss… circle? Group? Everypony there has an augmenter,” he managed to explain eventually, “and everypony is told that-- that they need to keep it to themselves. If they spill that info-may-shun to anypony else, let’s just say, they’d hope the Minstrels found ‘em first.” He smiled daftly as he fought through the boozy fog to get to the information he needed to explain to us, and then proceeded to have a heart attack. “AAHHH! WHY DID I TELL YOU THAT?! Shit, Shitty, SHIT!”

His hooves flew to his head and his eyes sprung wide, darting from me to Jack as he contemplated the mistakes he’d publicly made. Whiskey quickly dropped the broom and started to move towards him, but the inebriated and panicking horse was already scrambling across to the bar. He gathered one bottle, dropped another, and slipped through the lost liquid as he tried to hop over it towards the back exit.

“Stop him!” cried Whiskey. I took off on my wings again, trying to head off Cherry before he got to the door. Despite several pints of hard hootch in his belly, Black was just a bit faster, and I smashed my bandana-clad forehead into the top of the doorway instead, scrambling on the frame as I fell flat on my arse. Whiskey, lithe as a radstag, leaped over me with a flash of the unmentionables as he bolted after the stallion. Seconds later, I could see along the hallway that Black Cherry had faltered in agitation and Whiskey Jack used that as an opportunity to ambush the copper pony and pin him down.

“Stop!” he yelled as Cherry struggled, “stop! You’re safe, we’re not going to rat you out to anypony. You’re being irrational!” I found my footpaws and pushed myself along the smooth floor for a few steps, lastly getting my taloned feet under me and pressing myself back up as I reached them.

“Aye, irrational!” I said loudly, leaning down at the squirming pony myself, holding out my own emblem, “I’m in the same boat, ye wee eejit! Fuck, my head.” I sat down, lashing my tail angrily as I rubbed the bump forming under my red headscarf. Whiskey furrowed his brow and nickered tiredly.

“Look. I’m not a magnificent fan of Hot Shot, even if he is the manager of Mellow. I’d rather keep you and the prize-bird here safe from harm if I can. I’m telling no one about your magic jewelry, but you have got to be more honest with me from now on if I’m supposed to help you. Both of you.” As he included me in the last bit, my heart sank. I was already an insufferable cow for how quickly I’d told Crusty about Whiskey’s allegiance with Poxy, but this stallion was now offering to lay himself on the line to protect us. I let out a mournful crow and hung my head.

“I’m sorry,” I said. Whiskey was distracted briefly by the apology.

“For what?” I genuinely considered confessing. Part of me knew that I should if only to give him a chance to prepare and find himself shelter and safety from the coming storm.

“N-Nothing,” I pitifully retreated from my admission, shrugging deplorably, “I just wanted to say, s-sorry for failing. To catch this wee scunner, I mean…” Jack did not seem to understand that, but he pulled a face and looked back down at Cherry, ignoring me and my aching head. The pony below him had started lamenting into his forelegs and pulled his tattered tail around to his eyes to rub away his tears of fear.

“You’re gonna be fine, buddy. Let’s zip this back up,” and Whiskey nudged Black Cherry’s medallion into his suit, pushing the zip back up until the gold and black piece was covered away nicely. Nodding dumbly and numbly, I shoved my own item away into my feathered breast then sealed it away carefully too.

“I’m gonna get him to lie down for a bit. Didn’t that little mare Molasses you are friends with have a battle today?” The whiteish-grey horse with the coal mane glanced back up at me. “How’d she do? I’m guessing dropped out. Otherwise, you’d be there, watching the quarter-finals.” I started to explain that no, actually, she got through to the quarters, when the words were lost to me. I slowly glanced up at the clock hanging up above a door to the sitting room. The StableTec logo in the face reminded me of what I was missing. I’d been at Hopscotchs’ for an hour and a half, the break between the last battle was only supposed to be an hour. A scream threw up from my clenching ribs.

“Oh BUCK!” Turning on the spot, I scrambled away out of the back rooms of the brewery, leaped and flapped over the bar and burst through the broken door.

My ears briefly heard Whiskey shout after me, “HEY! You’ve not paid for the rum!” but I wasn’t stopping for bits nor a beating. I put every stress on my speeding wings, prayed that Mole hadn’t performed and had her verdict yet, hoped I’d make it back to Kiva’s in time to see her once more. Especially if this was to be the last time.

No pony was on stage when I got back. It was just an empty platform in front of me lit by cerulean light. I grabbed the closest pony and dragged them in, shaking them so hard they jabbered like a foal’s toy.

“Molasses Candy! Did I miss her?” I cried at them, rocking them harder when they didn’t answer out of surprise. “Did I miss her?”

“N-No! They’ve not been on yet!” They yelped. I yowled in relief and hugged them, the alarm washed out of my intoxicated system as I petted their head and thanked them. Then, releasing them again, I moved on, leaving the startled and stirred up stallion to wonder what had just happened.

I forced myself through the squashed ponies blocking the entranceway. The pyramid had been raised partially once more to reveal three places on the podium, each with its chrome StableTec points clock. I got as far as I could into the hot, chattering mass and then lifted myself up clumsily over it. A pony cried out angrily as I bungled my first wing flutter and had to balance with one paw on his head, and I burped an apology as my hovered and looked about for Bones once more.

Thankfully, she wasn’t ridiculously hard to spot, thanks to the presence of Big Lum standing right beside her, sticking out like a sore claw even in his pony disguise. I skirted overhead and dropped inelegantly beside them, only then catching their attention. Bone shot me a miserable glare, all though that response hadn’t changed in the time that I’d been away.

“Where the buck have you been?” she hissed furiously, her eyes flashing a luminous green from a blink-and-miss-it second. As I thought up a lie, I noticed that Big Lum’s foreleg was around Bones and holding her close to his barrel. The mare’s cheek was up against his collarbone and the two might have been sweet if her face didn’t resemble a radiation storm after dark.

“Are yous two fuckin’?” I asked, forgetting my answer to their question. I didn’t think to watch my language or my voice, as was evident by a few shocked gasps and head shakes about me. It didn’t do wonders for Bones’ disposition either. Lum, however, bit his bottom lip and leaned towards me.

“If you mean are we an item, then myself and Antennae are--”

“Nevermind that,” she snapped over her maybe or maybe-not partner, and leaned around to gift me a blacker look. “We’ve got a problem here, and you bucking off to drown your sorrows in a bottle isn’t helping anypony!”

“I wasnae drownin’ my sorrows!” I snipped back, gnashing my beak.

“Ladies, please, calm down,” Big Lum, playing mediator, parted us cautiously. Antennae ground her teeth angrily as she sat back in her place and turned her head away from us, though her ears were still swiveled to listen. Lumbah’s mood was grave when he turned back to me, lowering his big head just an inch to speak against my bandana.

“Gypsy’s out of the running.”

“What?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My friend was safe? “They disqualified her?”

“No! You missed her round, you idiot!” Snapped Bones, and I shot my wings out to retort, only for Lum to step in and bring back peace urgently. I folded the feathers back to my suit, to the relief of the pony in the audience next to me who was no longer forced to chew and splutter on them. Bone’s partner was about to continue to fill me in when he was interrupted by the call of horns and the triumphant music once more.

“Thank you for your patience during that short break, fillies and gentlecolts,” Overlook was saying no sooner than his presence was in the light of the spotlight on stage. “We wouldn’t ordinarily take such a long break between quarter-final battles, but we’ve never had a mare so upset to be out of the ascension running before! Once again, commiserations to, ah haha, Gypsy Breeze and Eventide, and congratulations to Semi Skimmed who will be through to face the final with the winner of our next battle.” I barely had time to process the information, but the rum in my stomach found a fresh pitfall to drop into. While Gypsy was safe, Semi was not. Worse still, Mole was next to face judgment.

“As time is short and we need to find our next pony for the Ascensions, I’d like to welcome back to the stage Haymaker, Ticking Gears, Trundle Wheel, and… Molasses Candy!”

The beaming stallion with the straw hat stepped onto the stage first and the others followed him in the order that they were called, a fiery red and orange unicorn and her partner, a minty green stallion. Finally, my mare, trailing behind while trying to keep a brave smile on her face. Each stepped onto the platform designated to them and faced the ecstatic crowd, bouncing and cheering and squealing out names like hungry pigs in a pen awaiting feeding.

I felt sick for Mole, but as her face turned to look at me, Lum and Bones, I couldn’t show her my fear. I wanted to will her to sing badly, do anything to drop out of the competition so I could have her back, but I knew she couldn’t. I’d seen how easily and mercilessly the Minstrels had threatened the pony in the last round, without any care to the hundreds of witnesses in the room in front of them. So I encouraged her with a smile, and maybe in my drunkenness or maybe, hopefully, out of love, I called out to her.

“I LOVE YOU, MOLASSES!”

Under the volume of the other shouts and hoorays, it was lost, but Big Lum still urgently threw a hoof around my neck and covered my beak all the same.

“Whoa, hey, you can’t go yelling that here, don’t you know?” When he released me, I admitted I did know and apologized twice for scaring them. I looked up to see Mole blushing, yet she was at least smiling with a little more hope this time. It was only a few seconds between them getting onto stage and Overlook waving everyone back to silence, but it felt like an eternity as he turned to the singers.

“Are you ready, chosen few?” He asked into his personal microphone. Mole plumped up her chest, gave a serious single nod and agreed with the rest of the contestants.

“Wonderful. Everypony! Please give it up for Haymaker, Ticking Gears, Trundle Wheel, and Molasses Candy, singing ‘The Magic Inside’!” A single solitary piano player started as the cheers died down, while Overlook escaped the stage. The lights dropped when the tune began, but only lit up the singers with a gradual white light when the first lyric was begun to be sung.

“We're here to show you who we are,
Throw off the veil, it's finally time,
There's more to us than glitz and glam, oooh,
And now we feel our stars align…”

It was a Countess Coloratura number. The irony stung as I heard the song I’d once adored with my pa now feel false when compared to the swift and underhand way she’d treated Songbird Serenade. The holotapes and memory orbs in my saddlebags felt as heavy as my heart as I watched Mole and the others put their spirits into the songs, each one performing to the best of their abilities.

Molasses’ clock ticked slowly behind her as she was sung over by the others. Despite her last spectacular performance, the horse in the straw hat certainly had the edge on her, the stallion even managing to launch his pipes out over the dueting couple beneath him. They’d clearly put him on the top of the pyramid for a reason, he had a fantastic voice, and that made me feel equally ashamed that I hoped he’d be the pony to win this.

“...That we are just some ponies,
We make mistakes from time to time,
But now we know we really are,
And put our hearts out on the line,
And let the magic in our hearts stay tru-u-ue…”

The lovers were still treating the contest as though they’d entered a karaoke bar in Last Town Fillydelphia. They held a hoof, sang deeply into one another’s eyes and sharing heartwarming smiles in that sickening way sweethearts did. They made each lyric about themselves and I could only look for a few moments at them to see what points their clock had gathered before glancing at Molasses again with a gasp.

“She’s losing!” I called to Lum excitedly, getting a complicated look from a pony in front of us and a glance without the attitude from Bones. Lum only nodded and patted me again, conveying only in the one action that he hoped I was right. Top of the current leadership was Haymaker as he belted the chorus strongly, the full orchestra coming in to supplement the voices and piano.

They were getting to the heart of the song now and the points were loading up with each line sung, as though they were fueling a great machine only with their voices. I caught Lum sigh and looked at him once more, seeing a warm smile on his face. I recognized the look, I’d seen it on the faces of drinkers I’d chosen to play cards with, or challenge to leg-wrestling contests, or propositioned and bunked up with. It was the same face of a pony drunk on some kind of spirit, but he hadn’t touched an ounce of liquor to my knowledge. A quick look to Bones found me seeing the same doe-eyed gaze in her eyes, slightly more subdued than Lum’s.

“They thought we were weak, but we are strong,
They sold us the world, but they were wrong,
And now that we’re back, we still belong,
'Cause we kno-ooo-ow…”

I listened to the next lyrics and found myself relaxing more as the clocks of the other ponies turned faster than Molasses’. I remembered what Bones had said back when they’d revealed their true race to me.

“... The songs and the Minstrel days? Those are all for us, to keep us alive...”

This was like getting alcohol straight from the tap for them. They were getting a full blast of love from the performance and they couldn’t help but feel the effects of the music and song on them. However, it wasn’t to last. Bones shook out of her dream as she started to see something amiss, and rocked Lum out of it too, pointing up at the stage again.

“Oh, no. It’s happening,” she complained, Lum’s once-joyful face dropping. I turned to look again and what I saw gave me another heart failure.

One of the clocks had gotten quicker. It was catching up with the others and as the song grew closer to its climax, it surpassed the couple who were singing so close they might as well be smooching and chased after the colt in the hat. Molasses was a few lines away from a bitter victory.

“Stop singing, Moley,” I cried out, flapping my wings, “just st--” Lum tugged hard on my tail, forcing me back to earth, and thrust his limb over my beak to shut it. This time, he didn’t remove it, and all I could do was watch while Mole kept singing. Bones apologized to others on my behalf, blaming the drink, but I didn’t care. As my little heart-barer grew lost to the song and put all her effort into making it her best achievement to date, her clock shot right around the board and completed the loop within the same second as Haymaker, setting them both neck and neck.

“And let the magic in our hearts stay tru-uu-ue,
Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa,
And let the magic in our hearts stay tru-uuu-ue,
Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa,
Just like the magic inside of you...”

The song was one line away from finishing. One line away from deciding the fate of the four ponies on stage. One line away from placing my marefriend a step closer to danger.

“...Just like the magic inside of yo-ooo-ou.”

The room split open, the creatures of Tartarus all pouring in to share their pleasure. The floor rumbled with their storm, the walls reverberated their elation, and their reckless grins were all about where-ever my head turned. I could liken it only to Smilers, crazed ponies in the Wastelands. I only encountered a few on my journeys, but they were insane, unpredictable creatures who stumbled about the wastes eating whatever and whoever they found. Rumor had it a group of raiders led by a doctor were responsible, but no pony had seen, lived through or come out of the experience to tell anypony else what the truth of it was. The only evidence of their existence was grim, grinning idiots scrambling across the desert lands.

Theses wannabe Smilers soon broke out into calls and cries for the ponies they wanted to be devoured. The clocks kept turning as cheers for Haymaker and Molasses dwarfed those for Ticking and Trundle. I tried to call all the names of the ponies except for that of Mole’s, but Lum’s hoof continued to block my beak. A slow drum was beaten over our yells…

Boom... Boom… Boom… Boom… Boom!

The points stopped counting up, and all the lights went out except for one, focusing on a shocked and gasping filly with wide jade eyes and pinpricks for pupils.

Mole had won.

I screamed out but the crowd's praise dwarfed me and Lum’s hoof pulled tighter to silence me. I looked to him, preparing to fight free of the stallion, but I was stopped by the show of emotion on his face as well. His eyes were wet, his cheeks stained by damp lines, and his head was shaking in disbelief. By his side, even Bones was holding him tightly as she tried to comfort him, saying something I couldn’t hear over the clamor. Love for Mole and the addition of alcohol effecting me must have been stronger than I thought, as soon I was hugging the big lug too, feeling heat on my eyes.

I heard the Overstallion bound back onto stage and holler for the loser and winner ponies to come down from their respective spots, but I couldn’t open my eyes again for several seconds. If I kept my eyes shut, it would all be a nightmare. If I pretended it wasn’t real, then it wouldn’t be. If I stayed in the dark…

“Firstly, commiserations to Haymaker, Ticking Gears and Trundle Wheel for not making it successfully to the next round, but I would like to thank you for such a brilliant performance there. I wish you every success in future ascensions and thank you for being good sports.” I could hear the weight he put into the last part of that sentence, and there was a slightly awkward laugh of the audience before another, more mellowed applause for the ponies leaving the stage. That meant that only one pony and the Overstallion remained in front of us. I couldn’t stay in the dark. I had to open my eyes.

Mole shuffled up beside Overlook as the rest of the house went wild for her. She, the offering to the howling beasts and devils around me, looked at them with her chest rising and dropping rapidly, her ears flopped back to try to cover away the noise. The host pulled her into a hug and forced his microphone to her face to further humiliate her.

“Molasses Candy, congratulations, you’re into the Ascension final! How do you feel?” The small shivering mess just stared up at him with her great green saucers. The microphone remained to hover at her lips in a scarlet aura until the leader of the Stable realized she wasn’t going to give him an answer. Trying to turn it into a good thing, he held her close with a hoof over her shoulders and joked, “the lucky filly is so excited, she can barely find the words!”

More canned laughter echoed around me as the Overstallion clapped her back. I wanted to get up there and break his leg off of even thinking he was worthy of touching her. Maybe Big Lum sensed this, as his leg tightened around me again while Overlook continued his spiel.

“We all know Dr. Maud Candy, your sister, and the rest of your family and friends will be extremely proud of you. Everypony; Molasses will be joined by Semi Skimmed in just half an hour to sing their final song, whereby one of them will be crowned this month’s Ascension for Kiva’s Moon Palace!” The galleries around me all whooped and whistled once more, as though they’d all been rooting for her from the start. Reminders of the way she’d been teased, ignored and scorned when I had first met her all came back to me, and I was filled with slow-burning anger for these ponies.

Molasses was shown which way to leave the stage, and yet she stood still as though he was pointing her into the jaws of a ravenous hell hound. It was only seconds later that Midnight Dreamer, of all ponies, got up onto the platform and guided Molasses off of it, at least showing my marefriend some comfort despite our rivalry. A breeze of sadness came over me, both for what my mare would face next and for the lost friendship. Another craving for whiskey enveloped me.

“I… I need another drink--” I managed as I finally peeled Lumbah’s hoof away.

“No.” His ordering was so blunt and direct that I was stunned to silence. “You need to do what you should have done the first time you went off to get drunk and run from your problems. You need to go see Molasses.” He softened and tapped his hoof on my shoulders, “she needs you.”

“Go see her? Lumbah, I can’t--” But I stopped as I saw that Antennae was already shuffling through the crowd to a brightly lit doorway that had opened up, blocked by a sole guard stallion. All it took was a sweep of Lum’s leg up my behind shoving me along, then I was hurrying after Bones as she made her way through the crowd towards the guard. I noticed the disguised mare-bug look back at me briefly before dipping down. When I reached the same place, I couldn’t find her, I was stuck looking about for the critter while ponies brushed and butted me.

Deciding she would either meet me at the door or do her own thing, I twirled back towards the backstage doorway and the promise of visiting Molasses before her final judgment. Instead, I found Bubble Candy, the face of the frowning Candy brother with the curly hot pink mane glaring into mine. I squawked twice, the first time in shock, the second time in fury as I clenched my talons and drew them back.

“Yer dead you wee little fu—”

“Chill, chill, chill!” The stallion erupted with a green glow from his horn and clasped my fist, stopping me from using it. Did every pony know this spell? First Gypsy was using it on me, then Bones, and now— “It’s me, you dumb, drunken sack of feathers.” I’d have stopped in my tracks even if I hadn’t been prevented by the hold on my claws. The salmon-colored horse moved closer so that they could speak quietly to me. “Antennae.”

“Why in the name of all that is good in Equestria would you wear the disguise of that dirty, no-good, see-you-next-Tuesday excuse for an arsewipe?” I asked loudly, making Bones wave her hooves and grab me, forcing me to keep walking.

“Keep your Celestia-damned voice down,” she ordered me with his scratchy and snooty voice, which set me on edge even when it wasn’t him. “They’ll only let us in if one of us is definitely family, and so I needed to assume the look of a pony I knew hadn’t shown up and he fit the— Oh, yeah. Look, I’m here to see my sister with the bird here, so could you hurry up and scooch out of the way?” The guard we’d reached by that point didn’t, instead he stared down at him coldly with a shake of his head.

“You need to learn manners, young man,” he scolded the colt he assumed was Bubble, before extending that frustration to me. Sensing I could make or break the illusion, I shook my head despairingly.

“He’s the latest task for this Guardian Griffon, officer, tryin’ to show this flank-shaft how to act like a decent being.” For extra believability, I clipped ‘Bubble’ sharply behind his ear, causing an angry whinny from the livid pony, but a pleased smirk from the guard. “Treat others how you’d like to be treated yerself, yer great pink poof, or you’ll get somethin’ to be barmy about!” Shrugging helplessly to the authority in charge of the backstage, I added, “Sorry about that, sir. Might we pop around and see Molasses Candy. She’s unfortunate enough to have this twit for a sibling.”

“Ah, well, in that case, she might be free of him if she gets through the next round.” He chuckled and winked to me. ‘Aye,’ I thought, ‘that would be the only mercy Celestia might send her.’ The stallion stepped out of our way and let us through, showing us the route we needed to take. “... And after you pass that door, you’ll find the finalist’s dressing room. Tell Dreamer who you are and she’ll let you in.”

“Dreamer?” I blanched, but it was Bones’ turn to shove me through the door and pull a face at the guard.

“Yeah, thanks, treat yourself to a donut or whatever for doing your job,” she uttered in Bubble’s irritating voice, not stopping despite the gruff chiding she got from the guard behind us.

“You need to learn some respect, young stallion!”

I expected Bones to give me some trouble for pushing her about and taking over her ruse, but the changeling marched ahead on the directions the door holder had given us. It soon became far easier to follow her by flight than it was on paws. I kept a short distance behind her since I’d been forewarned what I would have to expect before I got to Molasses.

Sure enough, after a couple of turns and a hop over a few backstage ponies, I spotted the corridor open up into a small square room ahead. At a long desk leaned a familiar mare with a bob mane-cut and a headset, talking to a pony as she tapped her clipboard. Around the room were tasteful black and white pictures of old contestants, each with the clock of doom ticking evilly behind them. On one wall grinned a photo of the Overstallion with a shimmer in his glasses, his submissive beard as lame as ever. Behind the desk was a door where two pointed interpretations of stars made it stand out from the plain cupboards, changing rooms and meeting rooms we’d passed to get here. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that was the destination we were aiming for. We just had to get past the guard dog first.

‘Bubble Candy’ swanned forward and I let Bones do her thing this time around. I knew Dreamer wouldn’t avoid spotting me and I wasn’t going to try to hide, no matter how appealing it looked behind the large potted plant with spiky leaves. I just hoped the ‘Tunnel Bug’ would be able to do enough convincing to get us into the reserved room. At first, however, it seemed like Bones had an ulterior motive as the disc jockey paused their conversation with the stage staff to look at them.

“Hello, can I... help you?” Midnight Dreamer asked the second part of the question reluctantly as her gaze fell on me, instinctively touching the bandage on her cheek. I tried to seem unaffected by the reminder, but instead, I cut a sulking figure with my head tilted away and my eye obviously still trying to look without looking at her.

“Yeah, my sister, Molasses Candy. I wanna go ask the little brat if I can have her room if she gets through this round.” Midnight looked startled by the brother’s passive response to his sister’s fortunes, stammering through her reply.

“O-Oh, you’re joking, aren’t you!” She laughed awkwardly, showing him the door with the two stars. “Through there, tell them both I’ll be in within a minute.”

“Pfft, you’re not paying me, lady, tell her yourself.” He turned towards the desk and sauntered around it, Dreamer looking more surprised by his response. She was prepared to bite back, so I stepped in as I caught up with the changeling.

“I’ll tell her, don’t fret,” I uttered, wondering whether the singular offer might start the foundation of the bridge that needed rebuilding between us.

“He’s the right company for you, G.G,” she said. It had the opposite as I got chastised instead. “Rude, dumb, and selfish.” Inside, the comment stung. I’d been called worse before, but I‘d been called worse by ponies who were worse, who’d killed and maimed and raped and stole. This was a mare who’d been a part of helping Molasses survive. However, I managed to keep an unfazed expression on my face and shook my head as though she was the one in the wrong, ignoring her tutting and making my way into the waiting room.

Molasses barreled into me the moment she saw me, grabbing me around the middle and clinging with an immediate sob against my stomach. She was so emotionally broken that she didn’t even see to react to the pony who looked like her brother. Bones shut the door swiftly behind us so as not to cause concern and then leaned beside it. I held Mole tightly too and had to be physically moved towards a corner by magical forces, which only then alerted me to the fact that Mole hadn’t been completely alone in the room before we entered.

Gypsy trotted a few steps closer to us with a dour expression on her face. Compared to how amazing her appearance had been on stage, she looked horrifically bedraggled now. Her golden mane was all over the place, her stable suit wrinkled and the seams on the shoulder torn. More surprisingly, one of the bows in her mane had come undone and was hanging droopily over her eye, going completely ignored by the amethyst mare. I’d not seen her lose a bow, even in the dangerous fights we’d experienced in the Wastes. The question, ‘what happened to you,’ hung at the back of my throat, but never fell out. I had already figured out who’d caused the stink earlier when the losers of the first-quarter finalists had been announced. I had more pressing matters to deal with.

“Right, we need to get her out of here” I ordered, looking from Gypsy to Bones, who held her form as Bubble Candy. “You need to show us the closest lil’ secret passageway or wee ginnel that we can take to get her to safety.”

“Errr, don’t know what you’re talking about, Bird. I’m just here to tell Molasses I’m taking her room when she gets ascended,” Bones shrugged, drawing a growl out of me. Yet, as Mole tearfully told her brother to get lost, I noticed the changeling angle their head and nod towards the other end of the room. There, sat with her back to us, was Semi Skimmed. A dressing room mare humming away as they topped up the make-up on Semi, her butter-yellow eyes staring at my reflection in her mirror. The pony was watching me with the gaze of someone accepting her fate. Not angry or scared or jealous. She was apathetic. Despondent.

I wanted to reach out to Semi as well and try to break both of them free, but before I could say more, Gypsy was up between me and Mole, hissing discreetly to the pair of us.

“We cannot break you out of this, Molly. You’re going to have to see this out, kid.” She patted her shoulder briefly.

I snapped. Launching out of Mole’s grasp, I threw Gypsy to the wall and was on her as the pony coughed on the lungs in her throat, snarling lividly.

“She is NOT seeing this out! We’re getting her out of here, or Celestia and Luna’s glowing corpses won’t be able to stop what I do to those who try to stop me!”

“Hey! What are you doing?” cried out the make-up artist. “You let her go! DREAMER! We got trouble!” She hurried to the door as I kept Breeze in my talons, heaving a heavily intoxicated heated breath on her face. She didn’t wince once.

“Take her or Semi off the stage and the Minstrels will find and punish her,” Gypsy croaked, her watering eyes glaring up at me, “we’ve got this figured out, Flap! I asked you to bucking trust me and you’re not even giving me that…”

“Because I can’t lose her, Gypsy!” I felt the fire under my eyeballs and the boiling dribbles dripping down my eyes. My voice was breaking and my hold loosening. All it took was one thrust for the purple unicorn to push me over and hold me down.

“Do everything I tell you and you won’t,” she uttered into my ear, Midnight Dreamer slamming into the room with two guards alongside her. One of the uniformed ponies swiftly pulled the already unkempt mare off of me while the other got me up and under restraint. The Overstallion’s daughter rolled her eyes as she looked over me. Before she could speak, Mole jumped up in front of her.

“Let them go, please! N-No more fighting! I-I just want everypony to get along…” She broke down, collapsing into a heap on the floor, foreleg covering her weeping face. I used my wings to push and thrust off the guard holding me, and quickly gathered her into my arms to hold her close. The guard came for me again, but Dreamer, in a moment of leniency, waved them back and let me cradle my scared and whimpering sugar cube.

“I-I know I have to do it, j-just... D-Don’t fight anymore. No more fighting over me. I-I don’t want to go with e-everypony angry and sad…”

“Okay, aye, okay,” I stroked her face and urged her to look at me, big, wet, innocent eyes pleading me to tell her only good things. I moved my beak to her ear, my voice as quiet as I could keep it. “No more fightin’ wit’ friends, Moley. Promise, for you. I love you, lil’ Mole.”

“I--”

“You’re father’s calling for the finalists to get ready in the wings, Ms. Dreamer,” a stagehoof called at the door, “it’s time.” She nodded and dismissed them, reaching out for Molasses. Regardless of the feud between us, she was still willing to be kind and considerate to the softly shuddering filly in my hold.

“Come on, Molasses Candy. Let me help you get to the stage—”

“Nah, lady,” Bubble shouldered his way in front of Midnight and clasped Mole by the shoulders, standing her up quickly and turning her to the door, “she’s my sis. I got a lot more things to tell her before she goes to see the Gardens.” Mole started to complain, but I hugged her close and spoke into one of her giant fluffy satellite dishes again.

“It ain’t yer brother, lass. Trust him. I love ye,” I let her go, and she looked curiously at me, then nodded meekly. She dared a small kiss on the blue fluff of my cheek. Thankfully, it seemed to ho unsuspected by the others in the room as anything other than a friendly gesture. ‘Bubble’ ushered her swiftly to the door, Midnight Dreamer starting to protest but Mole holding her back.

“It-It’s okay, DJ Dreamer,” she stammered boldly, smiling nervously, “I-I won’t let my littlest bro be mean to anypony…” She cuddled him tightly, Bones still pretending to grunt and huff about the embrace like the real grouchy kid sibling would. Then she whisked Molasses out, my Candy girl turning her head one final time to share a flash of her sweet loving lanterns with me before they were stolen away.

I heard Midnight speaking again and caught the squeak of a spinning chair, the clatter and trot of hooves from the dressing tables as Semi Skimmed followed the call of her name. Observing the beige-brown pony walk past me, I was not given another acknowledgment by Semi, and when I tried to approach and call her name, she ignored me. The guard stopped me before I got any closer and Skimmed kept walking, following the path out through the door where an assistant with a microphone headset and clipboard instantly started chattering with her. Dreamer stepped into the way of my view before I could witness the tail go.

“Should we escort these two off the premise, ma’am? Miss Breeze has been in two altercations in the past couple of hours and the griffon started the last one.” The guard looked vigilantly at me.

“No, keep close to them and keep them behind the scenes, but let them stay for the last part of the show.” She glared at both of us, snorting out of impatience. “Molasses Candy is your friend. Can’t you both just be happy for her and not ruin this moment if she does win? She might ascend today! That is a good thing.” With no more to say and with the pair of us failing to respond, she left through the open door. The guards stepped back from us but still gave us leery looks as we glanced at one another, and Gyspy led the way back out into the corridor towards the main stage.

Author's Notes:

Music for this chapter; The Magic Within - Countess Coloratura (Aviators, Lena Hall, and Daniel Ingram). Click here to listen to it!

Quick thanks to Salty Alty (Link!) and Official Fallout Equestria (Link!) for editing.

The 'First Ascension' story might be one of the longest parts I've written but all of this is proving essential to the plot. Part six will be the final part of the 'First Ascension' story. There's a lot to unpack in this chapter so if you want to read and then discuss it, come to my Discord! https://discord.gg/cQkyDSN

Also, if you're enjoying it or you want to put your thoughts across, please share your ideas, comments, and horse noises below!

As always, thanks for reading and I'll catch you in chapter thirty-two!

All good things,
Scar