Gilda woke with a sudden gust of cold air. She was supposed to be on her bed, with her lover, friend, and thrall, snuggling and snoozing the cold night away. But she was not in the cozy ‘not-quite-so-cold’ room. She spread her legs in a lowered stance, ready to spring into action and her paws left shallow pawmarks on damp black sand. Her flared wings caught on the breeze, and it caressed her flight feathers. The sloshing of water drew her eyes. She was on a lakeside, and she had been there before.

As apparent as the water-like liquid gold lake and the black sand were the mountains that surrounded the valley taken by the magical lake. The crystal palace she remembered wasn’t there, however. It had been replaced by a tower. The strange, broken foundation that before held the magical structure now flowed perfectly into the replacement. Black stone, shiny like it was polished by an army of overzealous servants, aimed at the stormy sky. Thunder rumbled and echoed on the mountains and a dramatic bolt flashed behind the tower in the middle of the lake, at the top of the jutting rocks.

“Oh…” She folded her wings and made them comfortable at her sides, taking a more natural stance. “Guess I’m back here? Did Mother Harpy fix this place? Or something?”

She blinked a couple of times, and nothing happened. Gilda frowned and rolled her eyes. “It would be much easier if you just talked to me!”

Again, nothing happened, except for the sloshing of the water and the breeze that blew occasionally. Gilda sighed and took her paw to her face. “I just wanted a relaxing sleep. For feather’s sake!”

Still no response, she would be rested in the morning since she was actually sleeping anyways. She groaned and rolled her eyes. “Fine!”

Her wings opened and she flapped them with a hop. Gaining air, she flew over the golden chiming of the magical lake and a short flight took her to a landing with entrance of the tower. It was made of solid black rock, carved off the foundation and polished to a mirror-sheen. It made a comfortable landing spot, about a griffon and a half from the surface of the water. The heavy iron doors were adorned with the wings of a griffon in black and white, and they were polished and sparkly, despite the oppressive black of the iron.

The handle was a round knob, made of cast iron and it was decorated with precise and smooth, detailed lines. Pleased, Gilda nodded at it and pulled one of the doors open, causing a waft of warm and dry air to wash over her. It urged her to close the door quickly upon entering. Then she turned and what she saw made her sit by the door to stare with her beak hanging open.

The whole circular room was made with black stone walls and tightly fitting planks for the floor. Gilda wasn’t a specialist on wood, so she didn’t know what kind of wood that was, but the black tint and dark lines made it look special and unique. It was probably just ‘dream wood’ anyway. It would probably be a good idea to remember that place was a metaphor… Something… For the inside of her head.

In the center of the room, black stone isolated a hearth from the wooden floor, but the fire was unlike the one in the inn. Bright and intense, a roaring fire. Wide and tall to the point it couldn’t be practically used for roasting prey. But more than that, it pulsated. Like a living thing, breathing in and out. It hypnotized Gilda and held her eyes for so long they started stinging from the heat it radiated. It lit the whole room as much as it kept the air warm and filled it the with the smell of burning wood.

The room also had a pair of tables flanking the fire, covered in white sheets, and overcrowded with food. Meats and beverages, mostly, that smelled delicious when she approached. A few scones were there too. They were filled with minced meat and Gilda’s eyebrow raised at their presence. In the sides of the room, it was flanked by a few ‘chaise-longue’ of the exact same kind they used in the Empire in their sultry parties filled with alcohol, meats and horny griffons making out everywhere. “This is one of those stupid symbolic things, isn’t it?”

She received no answer, and her attention turned to the walls. The polished stone had engravings on it, like they were carved with fine tools. Magic should do too, especially since they were deep grooves filled with white metal. They were groups of simple images, compositions which covered the walls from ceiling to floor. And in the first one, left of the entrance, she saw a stream and a forest ensconced within mountains. A large griffon image with striped wings wide open made lighting shower over the valley. The larger image was surrounded by smaller ones, and they showed griffons hunting ponies. They showed prairies and open skies, forests, and storms. Underneath, the whole composition focused on a burning mountain and four horned pegasi flew above.

Simple symbols, but that summoned precise thoughts inside Gilda’s head. She was reading the High-Griffonese Glyphs, lost to Celestia’s onslaught on the History of her kind. Although the Nartani had successfully kept them alive.

“Huh…” Gilda let escape an amused hum. “I suppose that ponies have a weird tree with creepy doors, and griffons have a fiery hall with engravings of past lives. Fair enough.”

She blinked a few times before she spoke to herself again. “Or I suppose that is what this is? I sure don’t remember this.”

Then she scratched her head. “Or something. I guess this is the original Palace of the Self, as Mother had intended it before Luna took over? Yeah. That makes sense.”

There were more of those carvings, but a tall obsidian image of one that could only be Mother Harpy dominated the back. Much like the one Gilda had seen in the teleportation facility back in Griffonstone, but this one had its wings forward, covering the hall. Like she protected it. Or, like she owned it. Went both ways, supposedly.

Behind it were stairs that circled around the room to the floor above. But, in front of it, held by a fancy golden and silvery stand was Mythical. The base of the stand was a bulky golden square and the sides had engravings of a griffoness dancing with the sword.

Gilda smiled at it but took a step back and returned her attention to the engraved images. She could see that they were always dominated by the image of the great griffoness, lightning and something tragic that ranged from griffons laying in beds to broken bodies and everything in between. What they were saying is that the life of the griffon depicted in those stories was closely tied to the great griffon deity that dominated them.

One of them drew her more than the others did. Certainly, because she readily recognized everything that it held. She saw a city with tall pyramids in the desert. The great griffoness was there, showering lightning over the city, and beneath her a roaring fire engulfed a griffon tied to a stake.

Gilda’s body tensed with the sudden heat. Her tongue was covered in ash and burning flesh filled her nares. She gasped and coughed, but it all left her a second later, with nothing more than a slight headache when she forced her mind back into the moment. She grimaced and scowled fiercely at the thought that the ones responsible had left a legacy that muddied her kind. Some of them still lived, while others just made it worse. Their descendants thrived like a pox upon the land.

There was more in the composition, and she allowed her eyes to guide her thoughts, as the present ones were unpleasant and soured her mood. In the image, a griffon delivered a heart to the Great Griffoness, and sword fights and battling armies dominated most of the rest of the composition. But there were also tall Battlehorns, covered in thick armor, and deserts. A dead griffon, still holding a battleaxe, before the gates of a city drew her attention. Those were not exactly heartwarming, and she couldn’t remember where the griffon by the gates came from. Even if the glyphs spoke of the death of The Emperor. Maybe some memory she still hasn’t awakened yet? Well, it sucked for the zebra, but the first time she saw The Harpy made an impression on Gilda and it only grew. She really came to like her.

Her eyes found another image to the right. The last one.

A wide griffon city surrounded by a river was definitively Griffonstone and next to it, clouds and columns showed Cloudsdale without a doubt. In between them, a small house burned and crumbled. The same sensation from the other image returned. Heat, ash and burning death. But Gilda scoffed at it and shoved the emotions aside with the sheer power of her anger.

In another part of the composition, she hugged a large, stripped griffon, with her back to a pegasus that could only be Rainbow Dash, sitting in the distance. Gilda rolled her eyes at the symbolism but kept scanning the image. She found a merry group of griffons partying with mugs next to a hearth fire and saw herself, flying above a building, yielding a skyward sword.

Most of the image, if the composition was to be the same size as the others, was still blank. Just smooth stone. She supposed that was good, as that one clearly represented her present life. Again, taking a step back, she figured she could spend days looking at the engravings on the wall, but also supposed she had a meeting to attend.

She turned to the stairs and a quick trot took her to the first steps. On her way up, the stone had no engravings, but the exquisite and supernaturally perfect fitting of the stones reminded her again she was dreaming. No further details drew her attention, and she rushed her way up the stairs. The only sounds were the tip-tapping of her feet and the crackling of the fire.

She reached the floor above and it was something else entirely. It was taller still, its walls were covered by bookcases, and there was something weird about those. Not only were they ridiculously tall and wide, but the circular nature of the room gave them an otherworldly and bewildering aura. Their size and the sheer number of books they contained seemed unnatural. Books in every color and shape too.

Unsurprisingly, she wasn’t alone. In the center of the room was a wide and heavy throne. White wood carved with decorative glyphs and black upholstery. Iron for decoration where Gilda would expect some shiny metal, but polished and just as glossy. Aya Harpyia occupied it, holding one of the books in her paw. She closed it and the book vanished, undone in a shimmering mist on its way back to its place.

“Welcome, Child.” Her jet black beak had a smile and she seemed to be in a better mood than she generally was whenever Gilda met her in her dreams. “This is our shared home within your mind. I hope you like it. I have done away with all of Luna’s impudent trespassing. Most of it, anyways.”

That small addendum made Gilda curious, and she resumed walking towards the chair, but the white and black griffoness stood from the chair and approached Gilda to meet her halfway. She had a dangerous glint in her eyes that worried Gilda. But she had done nothing wrong. Had she failed, somehow?

The two sat in front of each other. The larger creature embraced Gilda with her mighty wings and her paw, with long talons, caressed Gilda’s nape, furrowing along her plumage. The combination of feather-soft embrace and her streaking talons made for a strangely seducing danger that made Gilda’s feathers and her fur stand.

That being evoked such a bizarre array of emotions. It ranged from the innocent and heartwarming filial love and devotion to the very adult and physical fiery desire. It abruptly changed to a tense fear when her talons closed behind Gilda’s neck and threatened to break her skin.

“I am jealous of My Children, and Luna has left hoof marks all over the place.” The Allmother spoke softly, in a dangerous whisper. “Have you been a naughty kitten behind my back?”

But once the initial shock had washed over her, Gilda spoke with certainty in her voice and in her knotted brow. “I did nothing wrong.”

The great griffoness’ black beak opened in a soft gasp, and her grasp on Gilda lessened. Gilda continued with the same steel-strong certainty. “It was not Luna that saved me. It wasn’t her that gave me my strength back in that dirty alley. And it was not because of Luna I killed griffons in Thunderpeak.”

“It was not Luna that gave me Grunhilda.” Gilda held onto the feathers on Her Mother’s fluffy chest and rested her face on them. “And it was not because of her important griffons now know I even exist.”

“Why do you fear, then?” Aya Harpyia’s paw softly glided on Gilda’s feathers.

“I don’t fear you anymore.” Gilda spoke without moving from her position, letting the subtle yet powerful scent of ‘griffoness’ flood her nares. “I fear losing you. Everything you have given me… But most of all, you.”

“Do you not fear losing Grunhilda?” The Harpy asked Gilda, holding her softly. “Or your new friends? Your… ‘Employees’?”

Gilda didn’t move. She didn’t even think. But fears pressed on her mind, and she didn’t know where they came from. She whimpered and didn’t answer.

Mother Harpy’s stormy gray eyes focused back on Gilda, and she had an unsure gaze Gilda hadn’t seen on her yet. But she caressed Gilda’s feathers again, as she seemed to see something in Gilda that bothered her. Until she spoke again. “I can see the tides of emotions. The strings of connected thought. It pulls at your heart, but I cannot see what it is.”

Then she frowned and her expression lost the unsureness, replaced with contained anger. “You talked to Luna. You could not hide it from me, and you chose me. But I can see she has influenced you in a way I do not understand. You have no memories that would explain it. It is unsettling.”

Well, damn. If she thought it was unsettling, how in the ever-loving heck should Gilda be feeling? She smiled and chuckled softly at the ridiculous situation she was in where a goddess that made minds couldn’t understand what another goddess had done inside her head.

“It is amusing…” The Harpy agreed and chuckled too, even if Gilda hadn’t said anything. But it didn’t bother the smaller griffoness. She was so used to The Harpy inside of her head it seemed natural.

The fun ceased when Gilda remembered it meant Luna had done something to her and she had no idea what it was. Or even how she’d done it. Her smile died on her face, and she turned her gaze to the floor, finding instead the great griffoness’ belly. That old feeling of inadequacy that accompanied her most of her life found her again.

“Tell me, My Child.” Aya Harpyia’s talon caught on Gilda’s beak and pulled it up for the shorter one to stare at her gray eyes. They could see into her soul without any metaphor whatsoever. “What is it that you fear?”

She let go of her beak and Gilda found herself fidgeting and holding her own paws nervously. “I… I don’t want to go back. I liked baking scones. And I had friends… But I’m so scared. I… I…”

Stupid words. Why were they so difficult?

It was because she wasn’t talking to Grunhilda. The Harpy didn’t look up to Gilda like a homeless puppy… Or rather a clingy girlfriend. A horny one.

“You make too many assumptions, Child.” Her sharp voice drew Gilda’s gaze upward. Whatever that smirk meant, Gilda resumed her brooding, searching for the right words. Seconds later she gave up and just said it as simple as words came out of her heart.

“I’m afraid that if we’re not careful…” She started slowly, but her voice grew in intensity as the words came out and she ended doing wild and frantic gestures. “If we’re not careful, we’ll end up with another war we can’t win! And then… And then, Grunhilda is going to Shatteredrock! Gertha is going to get killed, and so is her brother! And, and Gia! And all the others! And then Griffonia is gonna get fucked harder than it already is! And… You… You won’t be here anymore. You’ll be gone. You will be gone! Celestia is gonna kill you! There! I said it!”

Gilda stared at the larger griffoness for a couple of seconds strumming her talons together. “Please don’t be angry.”

Gilda expected an angry scowl. Maybe a slap to her face, like Gelinda kept doing to Gia. For doubting when she should have had a stronger… Faith? Was that the word?

Instead, she received a loving pat on top of her head that flattened her feathers. It might have actually been condescending, but Gilda chose to believe it was a loving pat on the head.

“It seems a deeper look into your mind is in order. I would expect that you should embrace the culture of the most loyal of My Children, but I may have misjudged.” The Allmother encouraged Gilda to walk with a wing on her back. “You must understand that I do not force those on you, as I cannot. And that is why you may, so awkwardly, shy from them.”

“You want me to hate a dude just because his ancestors fucked a pony?” Gilda walked with her and kept her head low, but she still found the courage to speak. “They can be good griffons… Good Children of The Harpy, despite that.”

“It is their due to endure.” The Harpy explained as they walked. “They should not exist. I understand your empathy, but it is misplaced. They must understand that other griffons are to be discouraged from generating more of them. There is no place for them, they do not fit. All their birth did for them was condemn them to a lifetime of inadequacy.”

“Well, cool!” Gilda’s voice raised. “But instead of encouraging griffons to be jerks to them… I don’t know. There has to be a better way of dealing with this! But let them live in peace! They can be productive and happy.”

The Allmother didn’t answer. Maybe Gilda had gotten across to her. Maybe she was just angry. But something told Gilda it was worth insisting because she was right. “Even if the Saddani get in the way of purer griffons, they are still griffons. And some of them are even more loyal.”

“I encouraged you to remember your past life.” Gilda let her speak. “One’s death is always so traumatic, but such violent rape and death by fire can be particularly damaging. More so when you held such unbreakable loyalty to your sisters. You are expected to remember more, as the magic in the land itself will trigger dreams and visions. You are also expected to overcome such trauma. However, I also expected your hatred of those that betrayed you would facilitate your acceptance of my Commandments regarding the stained blood of the Saddani. Especially with Ghadah’s memories for context. That you would see it for the blight it is on your kind.”

Or maybe she hadn’t. And it did sound fair The Harpy would expect that from Gilda. But the way she blamed things on ancestry angered Gilda, and she stomped her forepaw. “That dude in Wayfarer’s Rest didn’t burn my former home. He isn’t the problem! Racist jerks like Gia probably cause more damage to us than a whole litter of Saddani! There are good griffons in the South, even if their blood is a mess. They are good and they thrive, despite the mess that Griffonia became.”

“How would you know such a thing?” Harpyia retorted with a frustrated tone in her voice as she walked. “Do you not see the arcane power that runs in your own untainted blood?”

“Yeah! But you know what? You don’t have a problem with gay griffons not producing pure cubs for you.” Gilda went on, letting her voice raise again. “You even expect griffons will break rules. You don’t even punish them if they don’t get caught, and you praise their resourcefulness. Your problem is with Celestia, not the Saddani and not even the hippogriffs!”

“Or are you going to tell me that you’d be okay with that rapist dude they killed when I arrived in Wayfarer’s Rest because he was an oh-so-pure Nartani?” Emboldened, she raised her voice further. “Because I know you’re cool with griffons being dicks to each other, but rape is too far even to the purest of griffons!”

The Harpy silenced for a while as they climbed the stairs. It spiraled behind the bookcases and continued from the stairs that had brought Gilda from the floor below. Much of the same, the stairs of polished stone weren’t as impressive as they were the first time, and she was irritated after the things she had said. But Gilda had to admit that the female-oriented side of her preferences found the sight of the great lioness hinds in front of her distracting. Despite being angry at her.

The Harpy climbed the stairs and Gilda followed, letting the larger one think about what she had said. Finally, the former spoke, and a new tone indicated begrudgingly accepting Gilda’s opinions. “I suppose that you are right, the Saddani among My Children are loyal. As I told you on the other occasion, you are not the first to bring this to my attention.”

“Regardless…” Once they reached the floor above, The Harpy turned on herself to stare at Gilda. “Snow Mountains does not tolerate permissiveness, and seldom does it give clemency. It forged the Nartani into the resilient survivors they are, and you must follow in their example. If you want to survive the journey. If you wish your charge to survive. The griffons that joined you belong to me, and you will answer to me should an ill fate befall them. Even if you will talk back to me over my decisions on the future of Griffonkind, do not do so regarding your journey.”

Gilda gave the larger one a serious stare, but inside she was giggling like a teenager. She just couldn’t let her win. Gilda was going to say that she would take good care of them, but arriving on the next floor, she raised a forepaw and stopped mid step. “What the fu- What is this place?!”

Gilda walked into the middle of the room as The Harpy remained by the stairs, watching. The tan griffoness let her beak hang open as she looked around the place with wide and surprised eyes. If she was anywhere else, she might have been horrified by what she saw.

The floor was taken by a rich black carpeting and the walls were the same as the rest of the structure, with cut stone fitting together with a paltry use of mortar. The light came from torches on the walls, held by iron sconces and from a considerable black candelabra hanging from the ceiling. The ceiling was wood again. A clear wood wall separated a small portion of the floor with a simple door. And there was a beautiful painting of The Harpy above the door. Just her bust, showing her profile with sharp lines, black beak, gray eyes, and her ‘crown’ of black feathers.

But all that was small business compared to the rest of the room. If someone had asked Gilda what Dr. Hoofenstein’s laboratory looked like, she would probably have described something like the room The Harpy had led her into.

Beyond the typical nice things most living rooms contained, and some furniture under white sheets, this one had several cylindrical glass containers. Each large enough to hold an adult griffon, connecting to the floor and ceiling with brass structures and bronze fittings. One held a heart and what Gilda supposed was a complete network of blood vessels, pulsating in waves after the heart. That would’ve been sufficiently creepy, but another also held an entire digestive system. From the tongue to the anus, and it… Squirmed.

As The Harpy walked past Gilda, she turned and saw another tube with lungs and air sacs that gave griffons the edge in stamina and high altitudes. They were animated and moved on their own, breathing in and out of the trachea inside their glass cage filled with a clear liquid.

There was a life-sized, uncannily real model of herself, like a stuffed animal, stuck to rods that kept it standing. It breathed and its eyes were so full of life Gilda would have screamed had she not remembered that it was ultimately a dream. Same as another very real model of all her bones and yet another of her muscles, as though her skin had been peeled off.

Despite the strangeness, she was distracted. She felt safe. She didn’t see, much less expect, The Harpy covering her back with a wing and guiding her to the other side of the room where an examination table, large enough for a griffon to lay was. Gilda froze.

“Stop resisting.” The Harpy’s voice came low and threatening while her talons shot sharp pain on Gilda’s neck. “If you have done nothing wrong, you have nothing to fear.”

Blind fear was exactly what didn’t allow her to think reasonably and see that all she had to do was relax and not resist. The pungent smell of chemical disinfectants and the bare, clinical aspect of the table, with the overall environment of that room made for a terrifying image inside her mind. But above all, she feared there really was something inside of her head that would make The Harpy angry.

Gilda cried as her bones rattled and The Harpy’s grasp became tighter still on her nape. Then she half-dragged, half-forced Gilda to walk and lay on the metal examination table. Images of the old Loremaster holding Gil to the wall flooded her mind and she regretted her lack of empathy at the time.

Cold steel, mirror-like, with grooves and drains. Her paws slid unstably, and she would’ve struggled to keep her balance even without the other pulling and shoving her. With sharp talons hurting her skin and cold metal against her underside, she gave in to dread and screeched, trying to escape. But her paws found no stability in the slippery metal and that only caused The Harpy to press harder at her neck and hold her tighter still. The cold in her stomach only became worse and her legs kept flailing in vain.

“Please, Mother! I swear I didn’t do anything!” She cried through the sound of her talons and claws skipping at the metal. “I didn’t do anything! I swear! I won’t talk back to you again! I-“

“Quiet!” The Harpy screamed sharply at her and her voice broke through. A second later, she spoke again, softer, with a soothing chirp. “Be calm… I will not hurt you.”

Gilda did her best to relax and forced her muscles to go limp, but the cold and the submissive position didn’t help, and she still trembled, trying to fight. Her breathing was too quick, and she couldn’t get it under control, her eyes shifted side to side, but she couldn’t find the larger griffoness. She couldn’t even move her head with her chin on the metal.

But that was Mother Harpy. Right? Mother loved her. She saved her. It was all Luna’s fault. Gilda’s beak chattered nervously before she managed to speak, finally closing her eyes. Her voice broke and she had to breathe faster to get the words out. “I didn’t do anything with Luna! I Swear!”

“You are acting like an unruly cub.” She eased Gilda with her back to the cold metallic surface. Staring at the wooden ceiling, her eyes soon found the Harpy and her worried expression made it more bearable. “Behave.”

Gilda pulled back her paws close to her chest at the other’s cold frown and blushed as her stormy eyes ran over her exposed belly and crotch. She knew better than trying to protect herself, though. Harpyia’s eyes didn’t carry any sensuality whatsoever.

Gilda squirmed, but she suddenly couldn’t move. Her limbs and her body weren’t arrested in place by chains or anything though. More like her mind refused to connect the intention of movement with the actual movement. Her face showed a fearful frown and, deep inside, a cold icicle of dread froze in her stomach. Her mouth wouldn’t respond to her commands to beg Her Mother to stop.

She hadn’t done anything, but there was something that Mother mustn’t find. It would ruin everything, and Gilda didn’t know what it was. But there was ‘something’ not even she knew what was. Maybe Mother was right… Maybe Luna had done something. That was why she was so angry.

The large white griffoness gave Gilda a searing stare while holding a strange device that reminded Gilda of that speculum thing her doctor used to examine her private parts with. It was golden, longer, thinner, and scarier. It had an open point, and on the other side it had a handle she held it with, along with a small device like the backside of a magical device with gems and golden wires. “This will not hurt you in any way whatsoever.”

She slowly inserted the speculum-thing into Gilda’s right nostril. It didn’t scrape or cause her pain, but it was cold, and it forced its way inside with a metallic smell that made her skin crawl. Gilda could swear it was much wider than it seemed. Thank goodness, or thank The Harpy, she couldn’t move, or she could have gotten herself hurt with how deep that thing went. It wasn't any less unpleasant, however.

Metallic clinking announced that the Harpy had procured another tool. Gilda couldn’t see because the external part of the speculum-thing obstructed her view, but the unnerving frown she saw on The Harpy’s white face worried her.

She felt the metal vibrate and heard it in her skull as something scraped its way inside the speculum and it went deep. She felt no pain, but a strange pressure against the back of her nostrils, and the smell of blood startled her. Even more when the rod came out and its tip was a sharp blade wet with blood.

“Calm yourself, child. I know what I am doing.” Saying that, The Harpy put that thing away with a metallic clatter and picked another tool. She tested it, staring inquisitively at the tip and it buzzed twice with an acute whirl.

Gilda tried asking her what that thing was. When she trained the tool’s tip to go into the speculum-thing Gilda would have jumped off the table. But her body refused to move, and her voice never found its way out of her beak. Her heart thumped in her chest and the fact that it was just so real, when all her body just stopped responding, stole away her ability to think straight. Her eyes shifted frantically, but she couldn’t see anything other than Mother Harpy sticking that thing into her nostril with a critical squint.

She heard the whirring resonating inside her head and whatever that was, it vibrated in her whole skull. She closed her eyes tightly and the smell of burnt flesh twisted her innards. Tears squeezed through her eyelids, but the whole ordeal was over just as soon as it started.

“I understand it is disturbing.” The white one admonished, pulling out the blood-stained tool. “But it is necessary. I do not wish to lose you to Luna.”

She wanted to cry and say that she was sorry. Do anything. But she was stuck inside her head. With that smell and a ghost of the noise that refused to die. All the while The Harpy deftly picked yet another tool. A small metallic needle with a red gem held by minuscule claws at the end of a rod, which also had a handle with a trigger.

“This is a probe. It will help me pinpoint exactly what Luna has done to you.” She held it by the handle like a firearm while speaking.

Again, the thought caused Gilda’s innards to quake and freeze, but she resisted it as best as she could. She still had her thoughts. Instead, she focused her mind on the other griffoness’ shapely paws and the security with which she handled such delicate instruments. The ‘probe’ went inside the tube sticking out of Gilda’s nostril and, again, it vibrated and sounded at her skull. It unnerved her, and she closed her eyes tightly until the sensation passed. And soon the rod came out without the needle and gem. She hadn’t felt a thing.

Then she understood that probe-thing was inside of her head and Gilda frantically shook her thoughts not to focus on that fact.

“You keep overreacting.” The Harpy removed the ‘speculum’ too and stood to walk away. Gilda’s eyes focused on her and her swaying tail tipped by a black tuft. “It is over, and you are free to move now.”

Gilda startled again and held her beak. Nothing seemed different. Her beak was the same it always was. Only a small speck of blood caught on her paw. She moved her jaw and sniffed. Only a faint smell of blood remained. But there was something inside of her head, and there was nothing she could do about it. Only trust Her Mother.

Sitting on the metal table, Gilda saw her pulling the sheets from over a large machine. It was a strange magical contraption, and she knew it was magical because it looked a lot like Luna’s magical system. Instead, the present one had rectangles with black glass. Several of them, above and to the sides of a sitting pillow and a ‘board’ with ‘keys’ that reminded Gilda of a typing machine.

As The Harpy sat on the pillow and flicked a switch that turned the thing on, the glasses showed green images and text. Graphs and ‘stuff’, much like the one Luna had used. But the typing machine part was much more conducive to be used with The Harpy’s talons than with pony hooves. Obviously, the reason Luna used magic.

It was eerily similar in the way strange text and words ran across some of the images on the glasses. Gilda sat behind the larger griffoness, leaning to the side to watch. But the other pointed at a small platform next to the machine. “Sit there.”

Gilda obeyed, walking over, and sitting. It was a metallic, round platform with a comfortable white pillow. Above, too close for comfort, was a similar metallic piece, but it had sharp and pointy rods sticking downward. Almost touching the top of Gilda’s head.

“Do not move.” Harpyia was serious, and Gilda didn’t even think about disobeying.

But the machine made whirring and clicking sounds, with the top part emitting clacks and buzzing sounds. Suddenly, Gilda could swear something inside her head just moved. Her first reaction was to try and reach it, somehow, but she feared moving would invoke The Harpy’s anger. So, she closed her eyes, as tight as she could. She tried thinking of Grunhilda. Maybe distract herself from all that, but her thoughts were forced on herself, and her mind instead went to the conversation she had with Luna.

“Your childish fright is interfering with the probing process.” Mother’s annoyed scowl made her even more anxious. “I will give you a reward if you behave.”

Mental fortitude of a Loremaster. Gilda breathed in and out. She must not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little death- That stupid machine kept clacking and cracking like it was going to fall on her head any second and was going to run her through with those prongs!

Fear started turning to anger and she wanted to rip that thing apart.

Irrespective of her will, and making it worse, recollection played before her mind’s eye. Luna told her she was under attack from a Nightmare, and she laughed in her thoughts. Her chest swelled with pride reliving the moment when she opened the doors to Her Mother.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, it was over. The clicking and whirring remained, but the clacking and buzzing were gone. There was nothing inside her head, only the mighty magic of Her Mother.

Slowly, Gilda opened her eyes, still sitting on the cramped platform, but The Harpy offered a small guilty smile and raised her forelegs to her. “I apologize, Gilda… I distrusted you unfairly. And I will properly reward and compensate you.”

Gilda didn’t think. She just jumped off the platform and clinged to Her Mother like her life depended on it. Holding to her warm body with both forelegs and burying her face in her chest. It was over. At least she didn’t cry.

“The idea that you might betray me for Luna hurt me... It scared me.” The larger griffoness held her tight. Gilda listened to her, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Mother Harpy still loved her. Gilda’s paws held to the fluffy chest and her face remained glued to it as the white griffoness concluded. “You are too important.”

“It’s okay… I’m sorry I made you suspicious.” She replied with a barely audible voice.

The Harpy didn’t respond. Instead, she just caressed Gilda’s feathers on the top of her head for long seconds before Gilda heard her whisper. “I am sorry… My Child.”

Gilda frowned and looked up with a quizzical raised eyebrow. Her tone was so strange. But The Harpy just smiled and kept caressing Gilda’s feathers as she spoke. “I do hope Gehenna returns home from her mission. She will relish the chance to teach you. Your ability to recall the memories imprinted on your soul is outstanding. You do it without even noticing. It is the combination of your particular soul and of your past lives. It makes you incredibly important, but it also makes you vulnerable. Luna has exploited that to steer you to resist me.”

“What?” Gilda looked up at her with a hanging beak and a worried frown, paws on Harpyia’s chest.

“She has imprinted something on your soul. It makes you resist openly accepting the Northerner traditions. It has, in a way I am not entirely sure, convinced you we will meet with failure when the time comes to challenge the Alicorn Tetrarchy and take back our world.”

Gilda still let her beak hang and shook her head with an even more confused frown. Did that bastard alicorn try to deny Gilda use of her abilities to help her Mother? Did Luna hope that Gilda would be too afraid to fight?

The Harpy continued explaining patiently. “It aligns to the moral compass you have grown with. You believe the hunter and trader from Wayfarer’s Rest must not be made to suffer for the sins of his parents. More than that, whatever Luna has done to you has convinced you that such will deny us victory. I do not fully understand.”

The Harpy frowned. “Maybe it is the trauma you endured in your past life… All the distress caused by our defeat. I imagined it would have inflamed your heart against the traitors and their Saddani descendants. But it may have affected you in a way I had mistakenly disregarded. Luna may have exploited this and made you afeared of our traditions. Again, I cannot say that I know.”

Gilda gasped and something worrying dawned on her mind. Did she want The Harpy to just take away the memories from her past life? The pain she suffered. The humiliation they imposed into her, and the dread she went through. She didn’t. It was partially what kept her moving forward. She would have her revenge but on the right griffons.

“Now, cease these foolish thoughts. You know well enough I would never do that.” Her large and strong paw playfully held and squeezed Gilda’s beak.

“What I will do, however, is help you focus on the good things. In the end, it will still be up to you, to be loyal. But I believe it should not be a problem.” The Harpy concluded with a silky voice that was as much a caring reassurance as it was a half-playful threat. But Gilda had gotten used to it. She simply nodded.

“Splendid!” The larger griffoness left Gilda and walked over across the circular room to a tall glass-door cabinet she then opened. “This should not take long.”

That machine made Gilda uncomfortable, so she walked a few steps from it with a distrusting backward glance. And once in the middle of the room again, she focused back on the large griffoness as she rummaged and looked around for something in the cabinet. It was the same kind of wood as the floor, but with beautiful arabesques carved on the sides and traced with iron.

“So.” Gilda fidgeted with her fingers as the other had her back to her. “You’re going to do something to me that is gonna make me… I’m not entirely sure. It’s gonna make me agree with things I normally wouldn’t?”

“No.” The Harpy turned patiently. “I cannot make you agree with me. I cannot force you to agree or impose my opinion on your decision-making processes. I can only nudge your subconscious mind to inform the conscious part of what you want.”

“Wait. Uh…” Gilda’s shoulders slumped while she was sitting on the floor, and she sulked. “Don’t I make my own decisions?”

“What we colloquially call free will is not so.” The Harpy brought Gilda closer with a wing and still spoke patiently. “In reality, it is a series of processes which exist in constant flux. Ever procuring information from your memory, your inner state, and from the environment you find yourself in. It strives to form the best available mental image of the world and thus inform your conscious mind of what ‘feels right’ when a course of action is required. It is, in a way, free will, as your conscious processes are still part of it, but not the entirety of it.”

“In your case, memories from your past lives are also available and that is why you can yield a sword without proper training, drawing from your memories of your past life.” Her elegant beak showed a smile. “The greatest feat and also the greatest vulnerability of this system is that it is hungry for information. This can be used to skew the results if one understands the intimacies of its functioning and how to prime it. As Luna obviously does.”

“How?!” Gilda gasped.

“I could take you apart and correct the microscopic pathways of your metaphorical brain cells with tools so small you cannot see with the naked eye. But that would be highly distressing for you, and I owe you an apology after what you have already been through. So, we are going to make use of the emotional response systems of your mind. With new emotionally charged memories.”

With a beaming smile, The Harpy turned back to the cabinet again and resumed rummaging around it. “Your cure will also be your reward for being such a good little queen. I will prime your limbic system so that you are more open to enjoying the luxuries of your position in the near future. That should skew your mind the right way. As much as towards remembering the right memories from your past. Not to mention, remember your boon once your journey is complete.”

Giddiness was an understatement. Maybe it was her way of speaking, but she had Gilda feeling like her Mother was about to give her a cookie. She beamed too and clicked her talons together. “So… What exactly is my reward?”

“Any intense activation of certain neural pathways would suffice. There are drives that are powerful as the desire to live itself. I would be ruining the desired effect if I explained it, but it includes…” Her black and white wings opened a little. The feathers on her neck ruffled and she stopped rummaging for a moment. “Coitus.”

Gilda cocked her head, taken aback for an instant. She even blinked a few times. Did she just hear that right? “Uh… Like… Banging?”

Gilda chuckled awkwardly and planted her forefeet firmly on the floor. “You want me to… Bang someone?”

She retreated an inch and let her wings raise from her sides. “Wait. Wait! I’m not sure what is going on here anymore!”

That earned Gilda a condescending smile. “You have not since the moment we started.”

Gilda groused. She wanted to say something witty, but words failed her.

“Worry not, My Child.” The Harpy grinned widely, turning back to the cabinet. “I know very well what I am doing.”

A/N: Next chapter is the cloppy one and is skippable if that is not your thing.