Dreams. Not always an enjoyable experience, and sadly one where there is little control over the situation by the dreamer themselves. For most the recipient of the dream is more akin to an extra in a film of their own minds creation rather than the actual director. For Lyra this was most definitely one of those times, and for all the worst reasons. Elements of her past, and in this particular case some very recent events, played back through her mind with horrifying lucidity. In her dream she was running, running along the beach for all she was worth with something black and shapeless racing after her. Her legs felt like lead, sucked into the sand as she screamed in terrified silence for them to move. The thing was gaining, lolloping over the beach in effortless bounds. She opened her mouth to cry out, but nothing emerged. She was tackled, brought to the ground, yet not matter how much she struggled she couldn’t get away. Each leg was pinned, burning with the futility of desperate effort that refused to move her even so much as an inch away from the encroaching spectre of death. Long, yellowed teeth loomed, the foetid breath of the beast drawing nearer by the second. And all the while, Parchment stood there watching her like an equine statue, in absolute silence. She was going to die, torn apart and eaten, piece after succulent piece. All whilst Parchment watched her impassively.

Help! She cried in silence. Parchment, please, help me!

“I told you to keep the door shut.” Lyra tried to pull away, her eyes turning to stare in open mouthed horror at the blood soaked face of Blue looking down at her. “Why, Lyra?” he asked quietly. “Why did you open the door?”

The door.

There was a knock at the door.

“OH, GODDESS!”

A maroon coated stallion was stood in the doorway staring at her. “Not quite,” he said levelly. “Miss Heartstrings I believe?”

Lyra sat bolt upright on the bed. Sweat was pouring off her and she was breathing hard. So much for having a shower! Brushing her mane out of her eyes her attention now locked onto the newcomer, “Who are you?”

“My name is Avanta,” the stallion replied. “I am the work assessor for the citadel.”

“Oh, right, Parchment said you were coming...” Lyra hung her head and groaned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Don’t they teach you to knock before barging into a lady’s room, Avanta?”

“I did knock,” the stallion stated. “Several times in fact.”

Lyra shook her head before swinging her hind legs off the bed, “Ah… So you did.” Dropping to all fours she smacked her lips and took a swig of water from the pitcher beside the bed. “What time is it?”

“Time for work,” Avanta said simply.

And then, right on cue, came the deafening roar of a dozen different whistles, horns, and only goddess knew what. The blaring sound seemed to make the whole citadel shake, and she felt her insides shiver in concert with the vibration.

“Celestia’s ears!” Lyra yelled over the cacophony. “What the buggering hell is that racket for?!”

Avanta merely stood and waited until the sound died away. “Time,” he reiterated, “for work. Now.”

And so it was.

Dutifully, Lyra followed the maroon unicorn stallion out the door and along the literal maze of corridors and hallways which comprised the citadel complex. As for Avanta himself, strange name aside, he seemed a fairly ordinary fellow. A little stiff perhaps, he reminded her of a butler her grandmother had employed on her estate out west. Come to think of it, Parchment would have been a natural for that kind of work. Both of them looked as though they’d swallowed ironing boards too. Miserable sods. Damn it all, she couldn’t stand the silence!

“Hey, Avanta?”

The stallion didn’t reply.

“Um, that’s an usual name you’ve got there,” Lyra tried. “Old Equestrian, isn’t it?”

There was a long delay before, “Apparently.”

“Oh.” Lyra rolled her eyes, “Anything you can tell me about my ‘work assignment’?” It was worth a try.

Grey eyes peered back at her for a moment, “All work on the project is in line with the maester’s current requirements.”

“O-kay...” Lyra waited to see if he was going to elaborate. He didn’t. “So what’s this project we’ll be working on?”

Avanta sounded a little surprised, “Did the maester not explain it to you?”

“You mean this master portal thing?” Lyra nodded. “Well, yes, she did. Sort of. But she didn’t say how close it was to completion, or what I’d be doing to help, you know, to get it working?”

The purple stallion let out light huff of air, “Only the maester knows when the project will be complete. As for what you will be doing to ‘help’,” he glanced at her with those inscrutable grey eyes, “you have already been assessed, and an appropriate task commensurate with your thaumaturgical capacity and skill level has been determined to make best use of your… ‘special talents’.”

“Aha! Now that’s more like it!” Lyra beamed.

They rounded a corner and passed between two zek guards who were stood outside a large set of double doors. Beyond these was a large, and impressively spacious, domed room. Big enough to rival the library at the palace, the ceiling must have been around forty feet high at least, covered in portholes and other styles of window which combined let in an extraordinary amount of light. Lyra shielded her eyes, trying to take it all in. Gods, it was so bright in here! Not only that, but everywhere she looked there were unicorns. Lots of unicorns! Without exception they were all busying around like worker bees, each one of them carrying a clipboard, making notes, working on various machines, connecting cables, wires, and goodness knows what else. Lights of every colour blinked in a display that would have made a fantastic backdrop to one of her gigs. And the sound too! The machines clicked, whirled and hummed with a music all their own. All in all this was, almost literally, the very definition of a ‘hive of activity’. None of it made any sense to Lyra. However there was one thing she did recognise, and that was the enormous round structure sitting there in the middle of the room. It may have been a different shape and covered in strange markings, but there was no mistaking the peculiar aura of power the thing was giving off.

“The master portal,” Lyra muttered.

Avanta paused to look at her. “You’ve seen one before?” he asked quizically.

“Not a ‘master’ portal,” Lyra replied staring at the thing in awe. “But I’ve travelled by portal before, not two days back in fact.”

The maroon coated stallion watched her in silence as if seeing her in a new light. “Interesting,” he finally said quietly. “We may need to run some tests.”

“Eh?” Lyra blinked.

“Now then,” Avanta began, ignoring her, “your work assignment...” He walked over to a cupboard, opened it, and began pulling things out. Lyra’s eyes went wide in anticipation. What would she be doing? Helping tune the magical harmonics perhaps? She was good with music, so it wouldn’t be that different from-

“Here you go.”

“Great!” Lyra clopped her hooves together, “What do you want me to-” She stared down at the things he’d placed before her.

“The floor around the portal is to be kept swept and to remain free from dust, contaminants and particulates,” Avanta intoned. “You will be required to begin work an hour before the horns sound so you can mop the floor and give it time to dry. Mopping is to be completed once more at the end of the work cycle.”

“I… You...” Lyra tripped over her words, “You want me to sweep the floor?!”

“And mop.” The stallion nodded towards the cupboard, “Everything you need is in there. Any problems, I will be passing by every hour to ensure standards are being maintained. Make sure that you avoid any cables, machinery or...” He paused, “Actually it would be best if you didn’t touch anything at all.”

Lyra couldn’t believe what she was hearing, “Hang on, this is-”

“Lunch is at twelve. Evening meals at six.”

“-bull…” Lyra watched him walk away. “...shit… Oh, goddess, what the hell is going on here?” The green mare lifted her head and looked around at the ponies working away on whatever it was they were working on. The strange equipment and machinery here was definitely not equestrian, that was for damned sure. By the looks of it they must have stripped the humans ships for everything they could get their hooves on – kitchen sink and all. As for where the humans were in this hive of activity, who knew? All Lyra had seen so far was unicorns and zeks. The zeks, experts in standing intimidatingly still for hours on end, did precisely that. You didn’t have to look far to see one either, and they all looked remarkable similar too – if not identical. In fact they looked like… soldiers? Lyra frowned in thought. Perhaps they were. There were things on this island that the ponies here were vulnerable to, so it made sense to have a defence force of sorts. Gods, she wouldn’t like to go hoof to hoof with one of those gorillas! Saying that, the ponies here paid them about as much attention as her, which wasn’t saying much. Not one of them had said anything to her since she’d arrived. But still… Cleaning?!

“Miserable bastards...” And thus, mop held in her magic and a bucket full of hot soapy water, Lyra set to work cleaning up a spill of some kind of liquid one of the ponies had-

A loud clatter of metal and the sound of sloshing water was accompanied by some of the most extensive swearing Lyra had ever heard.

“Hey, watch were you’re leaving stuff like that, dummy!” A peach coated unicorn mare stood shaking her wet hoof, her gaze taking in Lyra as if she were the local village idiot. “Who in Lode’s name are you?”

“Pleased to meet you,” Lyra replied pleasantly. “Generalissimo Pancake Batter, First Sea Lord of the Sandwich Isles.” She waved a hoof towards the portal, “Coming along well, is it?”

“Coming along…???” The confused mare looked helplessly from the upended mop bucket, to Lyra, then to the portal. “Why, yes, yes it is. If all goes well, why, I should think we’d...” She paused. “Just a minute, where in Lode’s name are the Sandwich Isles?” Her eyes narrowed, “Who the hell are you? Speak, girl!”

Lyra rolled her eyes, “Nice to see you have a sense of humour, friend.” She huffed noisily, “I’m the new girl. Name’s Lyra, Lyra Heartstrings: Musician to the masses, breaker of hearts, and subject of many a young stallion’s perverted dreams. And you are?”

“My name is Hesta, Deputy Chief Researcher at the citadel,” the mare said haughtily. “And you, Miss Heartstrings, had better curtail that ‘sense of humour’ if you are to continue residing here in the citadel. Otherwise you may well find yourself-”

“In the jungle?” Lyra suggested.

“In the jungle,” the mare confirmed with a nod. She paused for a moment, eyeing her up and down. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before. How did you get here exactly?”

Lyra jerked a hoof over her shoulder, “Through that door over there. If you give it a push it just swings open and-”

Hesta stamped a hoof, “Not this room, you idiot, I meant to the island!”

Lyra smiled wickedly, “Temper management not your forte, is it Hesta?”

“I’m not used to dealing with smart arses, if that’s what you mean,” Hesta snorted imperiously. “Now, you will answer my question or I will have you reported and we’ll see how much you enjoy cleaning the sewage pipes. Am I making myself clear?”

Lyra swallowed, “Crystal.”

“Capital,” the lab coat wearing mare replied. “Now, let’s start from the top shall we?”

“Shoot.”

“Right then. Where are you from?”

“Equestria.”

“I see. And whereabouts in ‘Equestria’?”

“Ponyville,” Lyra said with a smile, ignoring the sarcastic pronunciation of her home. “Although I wasn’t born there, I live there now with my friend.”

“Of course you did,” came the smirking reply. “And you just happened to ‘appear’ here on the island ‘just like that’, did you? In a puff of magic perhaps?”

Lyra’s expression never changed. “Nope,” she said pleasantly, “I came through the portal in the jungle.”

“The portal in the...” Hesta paused, adjusting her spectacles as though the green mare was out of focus. For a few seconds she stared at Lyra intently, then to the green mare’s surprise suddenly exclaimed, “Dear Lode!” She looked over her shoulder and shouted to one of the other ponies, “Isanderia, come over here will you?”

Another unicorn, a stallion this time, dutifully trotted over. “What is it? I’m trying to work here you know.” He looked down, “Why’s there water everywhere?”

“Never mind the bloody water,” Hesta snorted. “This girl’s just travelled through the jungle portal!”

“The jungle portal?” The male’s eyes went wide as the novelty of this apparently revelatory information sunk in. “Oh, come on! She’s pulling your leg, Hesta. Nopony’s come through there in centuries.”

“You think so?” Hesta bobbed his head towards Lyra, “What about that new lad, Pancake or whatever his name is. You know, the brown coated fellow?”

“Ha! I’ll believe it when I see it,” Isanderia retorted dismissively. “Have you seen him yet?”

Hesta shook her head, “Only at a distance, but Jade told me-”

“Jade?” The male chuckled, “The same Jade who said that humans could travel underwater in sealed metal tubes? That Jade?”

Hesta’s temper made her cheeks flush red, her irritation at the incalcitrant Isanderia growing by the second. She changed tack. “You know all the unicorns in the citadel, don’t you?” she asked. “I mean, you’re always boasting how you can remember all their names, right?” Hesta jabbed a hoof at Lyra, “Recognise her, do you? How many cutie marks like that have you seen recently?”

Isanderia sighed and turned to Lyra, looking her up and down. “Hmm, you’re right, I don’t recognise her.” He huffed under his breath, “There is a simpler explanation of course. We’ve heard of unicorns living in the jungle instead of being brought here like they should be. That would be more believable than a portal suddenly coming back to life after all this time. We’ve both examined that portal and it’s as dead the proverbial.”

“She says she’s from Equestria,” Hesta tried.

“Oh, well of course!” Isanderia laughed. “And I’ve just grown wings!”

“If you do I may be able to introduce you to the princesses,” Lyra chimed in. “Alicorns are in high demand these days.”

Both ponies fell silent, turning to stare at her. “Alicorns...” Hesta closed her eyes and swallowed, “And what would the names be of these… Alicorns?”

Lyra frowned, “Well, let’s see… There’s Luna, the princess of the night, she’s the younger sister of Celestia, the princess of the sun. Then of course there’s Cadence, but what she’s the princess of I haven’t got a clue. She’s married to-”

“Stop!” Isanderia looked around in alarm, making sure nopony was looking their way. “Lode above, girl, do you want to be thrown to the chocks?”

The green mare let out a loud sigh and clucked her tongue, “Look, what do you want me to tell you? For the goddesses sake, all I was doing was excavating that bloody tower and the damned thing came back to life. One of my team, Parchment as you’ve already mentioned, started pissing about with the damned thing and the next thing I know he’s come blundering in here like the dullard he is. I only came through myself because these dickheads blew it up and-”

Hesta’s eyes went wide, “Blew it up?! What the hell do you-”

Something Lyra had said had hit home with Isanderia. His hoof shot out, forestalling Hesta’s impending rant. “You said ‘tower’. You did, didn’t you?” He and Hesta shared a look before he turned back to Lyra, “What tower? Did it have a name?”

Lyra nodded, “Well, we’re not absolutely certain of course, but we think it’s Galeus’ tower. It belonged to-”

“By Lode’s beard, this is just what we were looking for!” Isanderia exclaimed.

“It is?” Lyra asked.

Ignoring her, Isanderia clopped his hooves together. “You there,” he called to other ponies, “bring the thauma-wave spectographer and the convergence detector. Quickly!”

What happened next was a veritable whirlwind of scientific wizardry that probably meant something profound to somepony somewhere, but certainly not to Lyra. Normally she considered herself to be a fairly streetwise mare, a little flirty maybe… okay, perhaps a lot flirty, but more than capable of handling herself in unusual and, dare she say it, dangerous situations. This one however had her head spinning with all the shouting, rushing about, clip board waving and machine noise to the point where she just gave up and let them get on with whatever it was they were doing. The lab coat wearers ran around like the residents of some equine ant hill that had been disturbed, all of them dashing about with no discernible purpose. Although with this lot, co-ordinated by Hesta and Isanderia, somehow things were happening. As she stood there, machinery began to appear around her, moved about on castors, sitting on top of hastily moved tables, or simply dumped on top of some convenient surface. Other ponies scurried about with bundles of cables, plugging them in here, passing them over this or under that. Eventually the storm of activity gradually subsided, and the ponies stood back to admire their work. Lyra looked down at herself in the chair, covered from muzzle to hoof in a bewildering array of apparatus that blinked and flashed with numerous coloured lights.

Gods, I look like a bloody Hearthswarming tree! Lyra thought to herself sourly. She cleared her throat, “Um, would somepony like to tell me what the buck is going on here?”

“Shush!” Hesta said, waving a hoof.

Isanderia, ignoring Lyra’s concerns, was talking to another pony and taking notes. Magic glowed all around and then abruptly stopped altogether. “Okay everypony, we’re going to take a baseline reading,” he announced. “No magic any of you or we’ll have to start again, understand?” There was a general nodding and an increasing intensity of staring. Lyra, certainly no novice when it came to being the centre of attention, found this whole experience far from comforting even so.

“Excuse me, can somepony please-”

“Will you shush!” It was Hesta again, “We’re just taking notes to see if there’s anything-” Now she was getting the evil eye from Isanderia. She lowered her voice, “Look, just be quiet, okay?”

Equipment slowly started to hum, whirring and clicking mechanically.

“Hmm, not much on the background readings. Yelst, what have you got on the red line?”

“We’re averaging around fourteen.”

“A little higher than normal then.” Isanderia held up a hoof, “We’ll try the high frequency spectrum oscillations next. Hesta, if you’ll do the honours.”

Hesta flicked a switch on an odd looking device that stood around four feet high on a circular track around Lyra’s chair. The befuddled green mare almost leaped in fright as the thing started to rumble forward, passing around her as light played against her fur. To her surprise she felt absolutely nothing, except perhaps for a curious tingling that had her fur standing on end as though in a field of static electricity. ‘Electricity’… A word she’d learned from Blue. That stuff was being wielded by these ponies as surely as magic. I wonder what he would say if he knew?she pondered. In fact she wondered how ponies would react in Equestria if they had seen even a fraction of what she had since she’d arrived in this upside down world of crazy. And crazy it certainly was. As she sat there she let it all flow over her: the unusual sensations, the words which meant absolutely nothing, and of course the startled, occasionally excited, reactions of the lab coat wearing unicorns.

“By the spirits, that’s it!” one of them shouted suddenly. “Look at this, it’s got to be it. It has to be!”

The ponies all hurried over to see what the first one was indicating on one of the machines. A paper readout that showed a long wavy black line was being held up for examination. Whatever it signified apparently meant something of considerable significance.

Isanderia scratched his chin in thought, “Maybe… maybe...”

It was all a bit much for Hesta. “What do you mean, ‘maybe’?” she nickered. “Good grief, Sandy, look at it! This is the wave we’ve been looking for all this time! All those years of testing the harmonics, listening, trying and-”

The stallion placed a placating hoof on her shoulder, “I know, Hesta, but you know as well as I do how it worked out the last time we got all excited about this mythical ‘golden frequency’.”

Hesta shot him a dark look, “It’s not a myth, Sandy.”

“I know that,” Isanderia sighed, “but it may as well be. For now at least.” At the mare’s distressed look he smiled, addressing the rest of them, “Listen up, all of you. What we’ve seen here today…” He shook his head with an expression of gentle, almost fatherly, kindness, “It’s incredible. Simply incredible. Heck, I know we can all agree with that!” He glanced at Hesta as he continued, “But this is unprecedented. As such we can’t leap to conclusions and plough ahead blindly without taking proper precautions first. If we did that, then all our work, everything we’ve done up to this point, could be for nought.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” one of the mares asked. “We’ve worked for years on this, decades in fact, to get to this very moment. And now, just when we’re so close, you want us to take baby steps?!”

There was some agreement with those sentiments, but Isanderia once again gave them all that patriarchal smile of his, “Yes. That is exactly what we must do, or else we could end up inviting nothing but disaster.”

“How so?” a stallion asked. “Damn it all, Sandy, we’re so close I can taste it!”

Isanderia closed his eyes, making a show of sighing before he lifted both muzzle and voice, “You don’t think I can’t?” he asked powerfully. “You don’t think I want to get us, all of us, off this island and back to our real home? Lode’s breath, can you really think I’d delay even so much as a second if I thought we could finally conclude multiple lifetimes of work?” He looked at them all, staring deep into their eyes. “No, and you know damned well I wouldn’t.” The stallion stomped a hoof for emphasis, “We have an opportunity now, and I will not allow it to be squandered because of bull-headedness. We will take our data, analyse it the same as we always have, and then, when we can put it into practice, we will.” His eyes sparkled, “We’ll be going home soon enough.” He turned to Hesta, “All of us.”

Hesta seemed a little hesitant but then hung her head with a faint smile playing across her lips, “Thanks. I think… I think I just needed to hear somepony say that.”

“You don’t need to worry,” Isanderia said gently. “Come, let’s leave our guest here to her task whilst we make the most of what we’ve uncovered today.”

As though somepony had pulled the plug out of the bath, the ponies surrounding Lyra radiated out away from her, leaving her sat on the chair where only moments ago she’d been the centre of more attention than she’d ever been at even the largest of her gigs. Now the equipment had been wheeled away, the monitoring machines, cables, wires and general detritus of the scientist’s world, vanishing as though it had all been a daydream. Had she been daydreaming? It all seemed… so real…

“I see you found the mop bucket.”

Lyra looked up and nearly yelped in surprise as one of the ponies pulled the seat out from under her, taking it away to some unknown destination. She looked around, finally noticing the familiar stallion staring at her. “Oh, it’s you,” she muttered. “What’s the matter, found some more shit for me to shovel?”

Avanta raised one of his bushy eyebrows, “By the looks of things here, you’re more than capable of making enough of that without me finding any for you.” He motioned towards the spilled water, Tracks made from wheeled equipment and hooves spread out from it, with her at the epicentre – all there was left of her brush with ‘science’. “Come on, make some effort, Miss Heartstrings,” the stallion continued. “If you expect us to feed and provide for you, the least you can do is contribute to the community with a little hard work, yes?”

“Oh, yes,” Lyra sneered, “What fun!” She snapped off a sarcastic salute, “I’ll just crack on with swabbing the decks then, eh, Cap’n?”

Clearly unused to sarcasm, Avanta merely nodded and turned away. A moment later he paused, “I did say to sweep first, Miss Heartstrings, but on this occasion I’ll let it slide. Even an adult has to be given some leniency when they are… ‘new’ to something.” Lyra bit back a reply as he continued, “Your evening meal will be sent to your room.”

Lyra was surprised, “What, no mess hall?” she called standing on her hind legs, her forelegs held out expectantly. The citadel’s work assigner either didn’t hear her or simply decided to ignore her. In either case he just walked away, leaving her to her task. “Buck it,” Lyra snorted, and with a flash of her magic snatched up the mop and began the onerous task of cleaning up the mess the other ponies had made.

The evening came late in these parts. Brilliant sunshine beat through the windows turning the large domed chamber into a highly effective greenhouse. Good for plants perhaps, but not for a certain green mare who stumbled dejectedly over to the cupboard and all but threw the mop bucket and mop inside before making a half hearted attempt to close it. A string of highly colourful expletives followed. What the hell was she supposed to do? She was a singer, not a bloody cleaner! Gods above, could things get any worse?! Nopony had come looking for her, and it was starting to look increasingly unlikely they ever would. To make matters worse, Bon Bon would no doubt be sick with worry by now, if not already convinced she was dead and gone. This was made all the more likely by what Parchment had told her about the weird way time worked between Equestria and… wherever the hell ‘here’ was. Add to that the fact that Blue, the only human she’d ever met, was dead, and probably because of her own dimwitted stupidity. Perhaps it was some sort of divine punishment that she found herself stuck in a hot house sweating cobs, all the while being poked and prodded like some damnable lab rat! Well sod this for a game of soldiers, she was going to find out what the hell was-

“Thanks for your help today.”

“I… Huh?” Lyra had a double take and turned to stare at the mare, “Oh, you’re that Hesta, right?”

“Yes,” the mare said vaguely. “I’m ‘that’ Hesta.” She shrugged, “Anyway, like I said, thank you. Please bear in mind that we will be needing to run more tests in future, so make yourself available when we do, okay?”

“Hell, why not?!” Lyra rolled her eyes, “It’s not like I’ve got anywhere else to go or do, is it? Stuck here in this bucking place full of monsters and weirdos, it’s a veritable fantasy island!”

“Teufelsinsel.”

Lyra frowned, “Come again?”

“The name of the island,” Hesta reiterated. “It’s-”

“Germane,” Lyra finished for her. “It means ‘Devils Island’, roughly speaking.”

Hesta stood stock still, watching Lyra with eyes full of curiosity, “Hmm, surprising you know that language.”

“Not when you consider my grandfather was from Germania,” Lyra said simply, feeling more than a little aggrieved at the mare’s assumption. “It’s not my first language, but when you’re a musician you have to learn to sing in several languages. I can speak Equestrian, Germanian, Llamalian, and a little Old Equestrian too, if push came to shove.”

“Interesting.”

“Isn’t it though,” Lyra replied a touch sarcastically. “But I’m sure I’ll be putting my talents to good use with applied mop bucket theories and applications.” She nodded towards the door, “By the way, do you have any idea how I can get back to my cabin from here? The bucker with the stupid name, ‘Banter’, ‘Planter’ or whatever it was said-”

“You mean Avanta?”

Lyra let out an exasperated huff, “Yeah, that’s the plonker. He didn’t give me a tourist map so I have no bloody clue how to get back to my room. And I don’t know about you, but I need to get my head down. This nut house is making my brain do somersaults.”

The scientist chuckled, “You have a singular wit, Miss Heartstrings.”

“Don’t I though.” Lyra was about to dimiss the mare and head out when she paused, “You know, nopony bothered to tell me what all that was about earlier? All that poking and prodding? Usually a girl likes to know why she’s being violated before it happens.”

Hesta gave a scandalised nicker, “We would never do anything like-”

“-Yes, yes,” Lyra snorted, interrupting her. With a wave of her hoof she dismissed the comment. “So, since we’re both unicorns here, how about a bit of info on the big doughnut there?”

Hesta stared at her as if she’d just asked why water was wet. “The project?” She blinked as though trying to gather her thoughts, “Didn’t anypony tell you?”

“They said it was a master portal and a pony can use it to go anywhere,” Lyra filled in for her. “I’m guessing this ‘Maester’ character is your boss and you guys are working to get it working. Right?”

“Well,” Hesta replied, “mostly.” She cleared her throat, “The portal is an ancient magical construction of highly complex-” She suddenly paused.

Jumping in, Lyra asked, “What I don’t understand, Hesta me gal, is what yours truly has got do with any of this carry on. After all, I’ve only just got here and it’s not like I’ve...” Her eyes met Hesta’s and she faltered. “Um, hello?” She waved a hoof in front of her face, “What are you staring at?” Slowly she turned, following the scientists gaze, and found herself staring into the uncomfortably alien gaze of the last pony she wanted to see. “Oh, bollocks...”

“I see you two have been introduced. Excellent.” The maester gave one of her classically thin smiles reminiscent of the statuary Lyra had seen adorning stately gardens. She may not have been classically beautiful in terms of build and looks, but by the goddesses she radiated presence unlike any pony Lyra had ever seen. The maester herself however, merely looked past Lyra to the scientist. “I believe the day is about to end,” she said pleasantly. A perfectly trimmed eyebrow lifted just as the horns blew, their sonorous pall echoing out its haunting call, reverberating along the hollow metal corridors. “I wouldn’t want to hold you up, Hesta.”

“Of course, Maester.” The scientist bowed and then hurried to gather her work as the others began to file out. If Lyra hadn’t noticed it before, she certainly did now – Hesta was frightened.

Meanwhile the maester, flanked by two of her hulking zeks, watched Lyra as though she were examining an unusual amoeba under a microscope. “I believe you have caused something of a stir,” she purred, “Miss Heartstrings.”

Lyra swallowed. She tried to keep calm and her gaze focussed on the odd unicorn, however no matter how hard she concentrated her eyes insisted on drifting away to stare at the monstrous beings either side of her. “Um… not intentionally,” she mumbled. “They, the scientists that is, wanted to test me for some reason.”

“That ‘reason’ being your recent arrival through the portal,” the maester affirmed. “I wanted to be sure you were telling the truth, and as it transpired, you were.”

“But Parchment was here before me, wasn’t he?” Lyra asked.

“He was,” the maester smiled. “Yes, indeed he was.” The uncomfortably slow way she spoke was bad enough as it was without the need for the accompanying lilting chuckle which held some decidedly sinister undertones. “However, as I have neither interest nor specific talent for… ‘music’, Miss Heartstrings, I would not presume to question a practitioner of those arts as to their function nor application.” The maester raised an eyebrow, “As I am similarly certain that a proponent of those arts would not presume to question a specialist in magical theory and quantum portal dimensional physics on how she would, shall we say, ‘bang out a tune’?”

Lyra furrowed her brows, trying to make sense of the word soup that was being thrown at her. “So, what you’re saying,” she said, “is… Um… Er...”

The maester rolled her eyes, “You didn’t graduate top of your class, did you, Miss Heartstrings.”

It wasn’t a question, but Lyra knew damned well when she was being insulted. She puffed up her chest, “Hey! I’ll have you know I attended art college and passed my grade one through three in musical theory and practice, thank you very much!” She sniffed, “And let me tell you, that ain’t easy!”

“You?” came the incredulous reply. “You went to college?” The maester looked genuinely shocked, “And just how did you manage that exactly? Certainly not through magic, I think we’ve got that covered. Perhaps it was a scheme to help ‘special’ students with sub-par educational potential into what passes for higher education in Equestria these days?”

“I got in the same way that every pony does who goes to art college, madam,” Lyra huffed loudly. “I flunked all my exams at school and applied.”

The maester shook her head, “Remarkable.” Her mouth curled up in one corner in the manner that made Lyra’s mane twitch, “Truly a prodigy in the making...”

“A what?”

The maester suddenly lifted her voice, “Now then! Miss Heartstrings, I’m certain you have worked quite hard enough for one day. You must be exhausted.” She glanced at one of the zeks, “Take her back to her room.” The creature said nothing, but shifted its eerie gaze to Lyra who balked at the frightening creature’s attention. “I have work to attend to. Don’t let me hold you up.” And with that the maester walked towards the portal, leaving Lyra alone with the hairy zek.

“Well, guess it’s just you and me then, eh big guy?” Lyra tried to keep the trembling from her voice. “Lead the way.” The zek made a low rumbling sound, barely on the edge of hearing, then turned to shuffle away, clearly expecting Lyra to follow. Not having much choice she did exactly that.

Corridor after corridor passed as they shambled along. It wasn’t easy walking at the zeks pace, the thing was far from what she’d call fast. At this rate she’d be starting her next days shift before she got back to her room! She peered at the thing closely, noting the two toned fur, the large hands, the rolling gait it had as though it were on the deck of a ship. Perhaps in some ways they were. The corridors were all scavenged from bit and pieces the humans had brought here – whether by accident or design. The silence was starting to bother her so Lyra decided to try and lighten the mood. “You don’t say much, do you?” she tried hopefully.

Silence.

“So... I believe you guys are called ‘zeks’, right?”

Silence.

“You know, I’ve always liked the strong silent types,” Lyra chuckled. “Got yourself a nice mare somewhere, buddy?” She frowned for a moment, “You are a guy, right?” Now that she’d said that she wasn’t sure. They all looked virtually identical. “Huh, I’ve been all over Equestria and I’ve seen everything from bison to zebra, and I’ve never heard of your people. You from around here, or did you come through the portal?”

Silence.

“Meh,” Lyra shrugged, “Just ignore me, I’m rambling. I’ll just talk to myself and-”

From somewhere up ahead there came a blood curdling scream, immediately followed by an animalistic roar of uncontrolled rage. Lyra had heard it before. Oh goddess, how she’d heard that horrifying sound before! Everything suddenly burst into action around her. Horns and bells began to blare a warning, accompanied by a voice blasting out of a wooden box on the wall:

‘Attention all crew, security alert level one. Chock incursion detected on deck nine. All security teams to deck nine. Repeat, all security teams to deck nine. Emergency defence measures are being implemented.’

“Oh goddess!” Lyra gasped, “What the hell is-” She didn’t get a chance to finish. The zeks leaped forward, its halberd swinging down in a flash of steel just as the chock flew around the corner. The beast all but exploded into a shower of meat, blood and gore as it’s front half was cleaved in twain. Entrails showered Lyra, her mouth open in a silent scream of surprised horror. The chock… the chock was dead. It was... dead… One second it had been alive, and the next it was steaming, bloodied chunks on the floor. She blinked, feeling the burning sensation of iron rich blood in her eyes. It was then she was alone. Utterly alone. The zek had gone, running off along the corridor and leaving her standing there in a blood splattered corridor. Was that it then? Was it over? What if there were more of-

‘Attention all crew, security alert level one. Chock incursion detected on decks eleven and twelve. Full lockdown procedures are being implemented. Message repeats...’

All of a sudden there was a loud hissing sound right above Lyra’s head. She hadn’t noticed it before, but there it was – a door, a large and very heavy metal door, clattering down on equally large cog wheels to slam into place. It came down with such force that the corridor shook, rattling the very teeth in her mouth. Behind her, Lyra could hear shouts and roars, the unmistakable sounds of gunfire, and another door coming down. Coming down right as the chock was coming at her as fast as lightning. As quick as the door was closing the chock was faster, the monster’s claws digging into the metal grating in the floor and propelling it with gut wrenching speed. Teeth flashed, reflecting in the mare’s terrified eyes. Her mind was a blank slate of terror, but… her magic! If she could just-

Something moved beside her, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the black force of death bearing down on her. Magic sparked and died as she was grabbed, her neck and waist seized, pulled, dragged with such force and speed it made her cough out her last breath of air. The young mare fought helplessly, but was plunged inexorably into absolute darkness amidst the tortured staccato howls of tearing metal, beaten and screaming all around her, screeching in frustration and unimaginable rage whilst consciousness passed into a blessed emptiness of thought and time.

Time drifted away, taking with it the unending sea of rusty orange metal and that constant metallic tang of iron which seemed to permeate everything. At least the breeze coming through the window was pleasant, and surprisingly didn’t carry the scent of sea water.

“And just where have you been?”

“Hmm?” Lyra groaned, rolling her stiff shoulders as she smiled over at her friend, “Oh, you know, here and there.” She hung her overcoat and day bag onto the coat rack beside the door.

“Really?” The cream coated mare tossed her coiffed pink and blue mane. “That’s all you’ve got to say, is it? Celestia’s grace, I’ve been worried sick, Lyra.”

“I’m sorry, Bonnie,” Lyra smiled softly. She closed the front door and walked over to the chair where she collapsed in a tired heap. “Oh, that’s better,” she sighed. Lyra caught the expression on her friend’s face. “I’d tell you what’s been going on,” she relented, “but I doubt you’d believe me.”

“You think so, do you?” Bon Bon fixed Lyra with a firm look. The two gazed at each other, each wondering what to say next. Finally Bon Bon broke the stalemate, “I’ll test that hypothesis, Lyra. But first, time for a coffee. You look like you need one.”

“I couldn’t argue you with that,” Lyra replied wearily, “I’m ready for the knackers yard.” It had been a hell of a last day on the dig, and that was saying something. Delay had followed delay, what with suppliers not turning up, volunteers rolling in late, and on top of that the weather had been atrocious too. They’d expected to be a day or two behind schedule of course, maybe even three or four, but that was nothing new in her line of work. However those few days had turned into a week – a week up to her fetlocks in mud and water. Because of that she’d been far later returning home than usual, and to make matters worse Bon Bon had heard nothing from the dig site either. Normally they were able to send telegrams back home to warn friends and relatives of such delays, but as luck would have it the local telegraph office had been damaged in storms and the lines were still being repaired when they’d finally given up the dig as a lost cause. What a complete waste of effort that had been! Still, at least she was getting paid.

“What were you excavating anyway?” Bon Bon called from the kitchen. “Wasn’t it that old Legion fortress down by the Pol River?”

“It was,” Lyra called, pulling up a hoof stool in her magic. “We found bugger all too. Looked like treasure hunters had gone over the place a dozen times before we rolled up. The whole thing was a buck up from start to finish too.”

“I heard the weather was pretty grim over that way.”

“Grim?!” Lyra let out a bark of laughter, “It was unlike anything I’ve ever worked on, and I’ve been on some shitty digs over the years. It never stopped raining from the minute we got there to the minute we left. The mud was up to my waist at times, and it was nearly impossible to get dry. The tents were almost as bad inside as out by the end.”

“Couldn’t they have put up a magical shield to keep the rain out?” Bon Bon asked.

“If we’d had a magical generator, sure,” Lyra replied. “Half the equipment turned up late or didn’t have the right connectors. The generator eventually did turn up though, get this, yesterday morning!”

“Oh, for the goddesses sake, you’re kidding!”

“I wish I was.” Lyra let out a groan, rubbing her hind legs, “If it could go wrong, it did.” She stared down at her legs as Bon Bon walked in with the coffee. “Celestia… my legs feel like they’re on fire.”

There was an intake of breath. “Oh, goddess! Lyra, look at the state of your legs!” Bon Bon put down the tray of drinks and scooched forward, peering at where her friend was scratching. She knocked Lyra’s hoof away in concern, “Good grief, have you see this?”

“I’ve not had much chance,” Lyra muttered uncomfortably. “The showers didn’t work either.”

“Luna’s backside, that’s rain scald you’ve got there. Bloody hell, Lyra, they’re both inflamed right up to your knees!” Bon Bon shook her head worriedly, “Right then, that’s it. Shower. Now.”

“Eh?!” Lyra looked up in alarm, “But I’ve just got home! And I haven’t even had a coffee yet.”

“Never mind the bloody coffee, get your green arse in that shower while I nip out to the pharmacy, they should still be open.” Bon Bon grabbed her raincoat from the rack, “I think we’re out of medicine, Lyra, but have a look in the cupboard while you’re in there. There should be some tea tree ointment.”

“Did we use all the burdock cream?” Lyra grumbled, making her way to the shower.

“I think so, but have a look. There may be some in the second drawer down.”

“Okay, I’ll have a look.”

Lyra staggered wearily into the bathroom and started the shower. In seconds the heated water began to fall, soaking into her already sodden fur. The train ride back from the site hadn’t done much to help her physical state, and she’d been so uncomfortable she’d barely been able to catch a moments sleep on the journey. The hot water was welcome though, even if she was thoroughly sick of being wet. When it hit her hind legs though the pain was all too apparent. Lyra hissed as the red sores started to sting. Soap only did so much, but she’d have to be clean and dry before she could apply any medication. After that she’d have to get her hooves looked at too. They must be in a hell of a state.

Soon enough, bathed in a cloud of scented steam, Lyra stepped out of the shower and onto the thick rug where she towelled and treated herself to a good session with the dryer. It was the first time she’d been dry in days, if not weeks for that matter. Gods, she’d have to look at the weather forecast the next time she put her name down for another stint like that one. The bloody site had been nothing but stones, and… well, more stones really. Any decent artefacts had vanished long, long ago, and it should have been no surprise that was the case when you considered how well known the location of the fort was. The locals had pinched all the cut stone and used it to build their farms, churches, walls, and who knew what else, centuries ago. And who could blame them? The fort had allegedly been a supply depot for the Legion, which explained its size. Many artefacts had come from there on previous digs too, so to find anything now had been one hell of a long shot. And an utter waste of time as it turned out. Lyra began to rummage in the cupboards, moving curry combs, brushes, clippers, eye drops, plasters…

“Aha! Gotcha...” Lyra reached in with her magic and took out the bottle of tea tree oil. “Should still be in date,” she mumbled, and was just closing the drawer when a small box caught her eye. It was sticking out from the corner of the cupboard, just behind the bathroom drawers. How in Equestria had it gotten there! Lyra pulled it out. Maybe it was some of the burdock cream?

The front door catch clicked shut. “Lyra? You finished in the shower yet?” Bon Bon hung up her raincoat. “Bloody weather...” She lifted her muzzle, “Lyra?”

“Bonnie?”

Bon Bon smiled, looking up at- Lyra was standing there, staring at her with an expression of what could only be described as stunned confusion. “Lyra? What is it? What’s...” Her eyes moved to the object floating in Lyra’s magic, “What have you got there?”

“I don’t know, Bonnie,” Lyra said, swallowing. “I’m not… I’m not really sure.” She stared at the thing, “It says it’s a ‘home pregnancy testing kit’.” Her eyes drifted back to her friend. Or more specifically, her slightly larger than normal belly, “Dear Celestia… You’re pregnant.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” Bon Bon laughed suddenly, “You know I don’t have a coltfriend, Lyra. You’re imagining things.”

“I see, and this is a figment of my imagination is it?” Lyra held up the pregnancy testing kit. “Goddesses, it all makes sense now: the morning sickness, the swollen stomach, the strange things you were eating from the takeaways.”

“I’ve just been off colour, Lyra, that’s all.” Bon Bon put down the parcel from the pharmacy, “Come and sit down. I’ll put the cream on for you and-”

Lyra’s annoyance flared, “Don’t just dismiss this as nothing, Bon Bon!” Her yellow eyes flashed, “You’re my best friend, and you’re acting as if this is nothing?!”

“It is nothing,” Bon Bon muttered. “That could be anypony’s...”

“It’s in our house! In our bathroom!”

“It could be Roseluck’s,” Bon Bon offered. “You know what that girl’s like with-”

“It’s got your bucking name on it!” Lyra shouted back at her. “And look at the date! It’s the same date you said you were going to the doctors to get looked at! And you told me you had a virus! A bloody virus, Bonnie!”

The cream mare stood up straight, rolled her shoulders and walked over to her work bag, “It’s inconsequential, Lyra. And, I’m sorry to say, none of your business either.”

“None of my business?!” Lyra was aghast. “We’ve been friends since we were foals and-”

“I’m sorry, Lyra.” Bon Bon turned to face her wearing a pair of dark sunglasses and holding up a curious silver device. “Neither of us have time for this right now.”

“What?” Lyra blinked in surprise, her eyes moving from her friend to the-

The world burst in a flash of brilliant red light.

“GAH!” Lyra sat up in fright, blinking in the lamplight. “What the buck…?!” She rubbed her eyes, staring into the gloom around her as the strange dreamed vanished into nothingness. Suddenly she saw a hulking thing standing over her, the clawed hands reaching, the teeth… “Oh, goddesses!” It was the chock. The chock was here, standing over her, holding a cup of… tea?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean ter frighten yer.” The chock, or whatever it was, placed the cup on the night stand beside the bed. “I’ll leave it there for when y’all are ready. It’s made from local herbs the villagers gather for me, so it should be alright for yer t’drink.” The voice was male. “It’s quite refreshin’ really.”

Refreshing? Refreshing was good. Lyra, however, didn’t move. Instead she gathered her magic, readying a shield spell. But what use would that be when she didn’t know where she was? She’d keep this… this thing… distracted by talking to it whilst she looked for a way out. “Thats, er, that’s very good of you,” she managed. “And, um, where are we exactly?”

“Under the citadel,” came the reply.

“Under?” Lyra felt her heart sink.

The shadow nodded, “It’s a quiet place.” The thing moved away to sit down across from her. She could still hardly make out much more than legs, two of them, two arms, and…

“You’re a human,” Lyra said calmly.

“Ah am?” The thing reached up to scratch its head. “Ah suppose I am… kinda. Well, part a’me is.”

Lyra heard the distinct clop of a heavy hoof as her host shifted his weight. “Are you a Faun then?” she asked. “A Satyr maybe?” In truth she never seen either of those creatures, but considering what she’d seen so far since coming to the island she’d be more surprised if there weren’t any about.

The thing made an odd rumbling sound that may or may not have been a laugh. “Ah don’t know,” it began. “Maybe I am one of those things you said.” It – he- let out a very equine snort, “What do you think I am, Miss Pony?”

“Lyra,” Lyra said, her interest piqued. “My name is Lyra, not ‘Miss Pony’.” She felt a little less alarmed now, but was still careful not to antagonise this odd being. She decided to change the topic of conversation, “May I ask your name?”

“May you ask...” The creature sniffed absently. “You may ask...”

Lyra waited for a reply, taking a sip of her tea in the meantime. The flavour was… exceptional! “That’s delicious!” she exclaimed, taking another sip. “I’ve never had anything like it before!”

There was another rumble, “Ah’m pleased you like it.” There was a pause before, “Lyra.”

Lyra felt a rush of energy sizzle through her, the fatigue and tiredness she’d been labouring under vanishing like that strange dream. And yet, was it a dream? It had seemed so real! But now… now she couldn’t really recall any of it. A shame really. She gave herself a shake, “Hey, um, friend, how did I get here? The last thing I remember was being left in the corridor and all this noise, and…” Realisation hit her, “You saved me from that chock!”

A rumble echoed from the creature. “Yup, ah guess I did.” Was there an odd twang to the creature’s accent? It sounded a bit… ‘country’ somehow. “That thar chock nearly had you for dinner.” He made a low chuckling sound, “Now, he’s mah dinner.”

That was when Lyra noticed the bundle of what she’d thought were rags, lying in the corner of the room. Hell, why not? If this thing wanted to eat chocks, then why wouldn’t she be surprised by that after all she’d seen?

The creature reached down and there was the sound of a match being struck. Moments later an oil lamp wick was lit and a yellow-white light began to illuminate more of the room - and Lyra’s ‘host’. The thing sitting back down smiled at her through very equine lips. It’s face, eyes and long snow white mane were as equine as any equestrian she’d ever seen. That, however, was where most of the similarities ended. The creature’s well muscled torso was distinctly human, as were the arms and hands which were lightly furred. The legs were reminiscent of a minotaurs, ending in pony-like hooves. He had a tail though, she noticed, just as brilliantly white as his mane.

“The name’s Thirty Thirty,” the creature said in his leaden tone. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Lyra.”

“Likewise,” Lyra squeaked. Luna’s lugs, what was he?! He was unmistakably half pony and half human, that was damned sure. So was he a… Oh, goddess, was he a centaur?! “I’m sorry to ask,” Lyra managed, trying not to swallow her own tongue, “but, are you a centaur?”

“A centaur?” The creature scratched his chin, “Ah’ve heard the humans say that name, but… you know, ah don’t know. Ah’m Thirty Thirty. One’a the humans named me that when I was a young’un. He laughed a lot. Maybe the name was a joke, but ah don’t mind. Ah like it.”

“Was… Was the human your father?” Lyra asked quietly.

Thirty Thirty paused, frowning in thought. “My father...” He shrugged, “Ah don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. Ah have no father now. He’s gone. They’re all gone.” He got up and moved to open a drawer where he took out a small wooden box of cigars. “All gone now...”

He lit one up.

Lyra sat up on the bed and stretched her legs, noticing the small bandage on one of her forelegs. It didn’t hurt, but then she hadn’t noticed any injuries earlier. She must have done it on the way down here. In any case, Thirty Thirty had done an excellent job. “Thirty?”

“Mmm?”

“What do you mean they’re all gone?” She cleared her throat, “The humans, I mean. Where did they go?”

“Go?” Thirty looked down at the floor, his face unreadable. “They didn’t go nowheres. They’re still here. Those that’re still livin’.”

“But you said-”

“The humans ain’t humans no more,” Thirty said abruptly. “Anythin’ human that was in them is gone.” The yellow flare of flame illuminated his muzzle as he lit his cigar. “They’re zeks now. All of ‘em. All zeks.” He spat on the floor, “That’s what they do here. They turns folk into monsters.”

Lyra had wondered about the fate of the humans after talking to Blue and Celandine, but to hear it here, and from this bizarre creature too, sent a shiver as cold as ice down her spine. “Dear goddess...”

“Goddess?” Thirty Thirty shook his mane, “Ain’t no goddess here. Only god they believe in now was just a regular old pony called Lode Stone.” He took a draw on the cigar, “He’s dead.” “Maester’s still breathin’,” he added. “Yup, she’s still breathin’ alright.”

Lode Stone. Lyra nodded in thought, “He was the first pony through the portal wasn’t he?”

“So they say,” Thirty affirmed. “What I don’t know is why y’all are here.” He pointed to her cutie mark. “You weren’t born on the island. Ah know all the ponies here, zeks too, and you ain’t one a’them.”

“Do you want me to tell you my story?” Lyra asked.

Thirty smiled, his teeth catching the light. “Nope.”

Lyra felt a little deflated, “Oh.”

“But you can tell me if you like,” Thirty motioned to the tea. What may have been a wry smile playing across his lips as he said, “There’s more in the pot.”

And so, well lubricated with the surprisingly delicious tea, Lyra and Thirty sat in the small dimly lit room whilst the green mare regaled the strange creature with her tale. She edited it somewhat, leaving out some of the more pertinent details which may draw the wrong kind of attention to Blue and Celandine. Gods, even now she kept thinking of Blue, and what she’d done. What she should have done... Depression threatened to engulf Lyra in its cold embrace, however movement from her strange host distracted her.

Thirty got up and stretched, flicking his rich mane away from his neck, “Sounds about what ah heard,” he said in his odd voice.

“What, you knew about me already?!” Lyra jumped to her hooves, her temper flaring. “You got me to tell you all that, and you already knew?!”

Thirty watched her with his deep brown eyes. They were smaller than a normal pony’s, a little human almost, but they conveyed just as much emotion. “I hear a lot of things down here,” the tall male said heavily. “Ah can’t go up there, but ah can see ‘em still, and ah can hear ‘em too.” He motioned to a grill on the wall, “Vents. The old speaking tubes, see? Ah knows all the hidin’ places around here.”

“What, you actually live down here. In the dark?” Lyra couldn’t believe what she was hearing, “Are you hiding from them?” There was no answer. “Who are you, Thirty?” The stallion’s wry smile had her back up in a trice and she rounded on him, blocking him from walking away, “Listen here buddy, I’ve been messed around by every damned pony and his bloody dog since I got dumped in this rust pit, so you’d better start explaining things to me before I show you what a real equestrian mare can do when she’s angry!”

“And what can you do when you’re angry, Miss Lyra?”

Her hoof shot out and pushed him in the… was that his hip? He was so tall it was hard to tell. “Trust me,” she said firmly, “you don’t want to find out.”

“Don’t I…” Thirty reached up and stretched out his arms, his hands touching the ceiling. They were so long! “Ah don’t like ponies telling me what I can like an’ what ah don’t like.” His voice dropped an octave as if recalling something unpleasant, “Momma used to be like that, afore she...” He closed his eyes and stopped himself. “Ah don’t like talking about myself, Miss.” Thirty kept his back to Lyra as he lifted his muzzle, his ears twitching, and said, “The chocks have gone now.”

Lyra closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm her frayed nerves. “I’m not sure I want to go back,” she mumbled. Thirty paused, letting her continue. “They treat me like I’m stupid. The Maester, that mare they have in charge there, there’s something about her I don’t like. She seems to think I’m worthless, and that my magic is so useless I’m only fit for washing floors and brushing up the crap other ponies have left behind.” Lyra swallowed, staring at her chipped hooves. “Ha!” she laughed, “Look at these! I used to have nice hooves once, Thirty. I used to be able to play any instrument I put my mind to pretty much. It meant so much to me to see the smiles on ponies faces when I performed. To travel around Equestria and hear the applause of the audience was like nothing else in the world.” She closed her eyes, “Nothing else...” Lyra shivered. “Anyway, the band decided I was too old and unattractive apparently, so I was kicked out in favour of a newer model. Now I’m stuck here on this nightmare island with a bunch of monsters and psychopaths who see me as nothing more than an interesting lab rat who can push a sodding mop and brush.”

“Lab rat,” Thirty repeated.

“Huh?”

“You said ‘Lab rat’.” Thirty let out a low rumble, puffing out a stream of blue smoke as he crushed what was left of his cigar in his enormous hand. “Did they… Did they do things to you?” He looked over his shoulder at her, “Did they hurt you?”

“Hurt me?” Lyra shook her head. “No, they just sat me in a chair and set up all this equipment. They said something about ‘harmonics’, and were interested in the fact I’d recently travelled by portal. Other than that, they-”

“They experimented on you.”

“-didn’t do anything...” Lyra paused, staring at him. “They didn’t hurt me, Thirty,” she emphasised.

“No.” Muscles strained in Thirty’s neck, his clenched fist nearly turning white with how hard he was straining. “No, they don’t hurt you.” His eyes locked onto her, “They wouldn’t hurt you. Unicorn.”

A sudden flash of fear flashed through Lyra’s mind. This creature, this two legged being, lived down here in the darkness, far away from the other ponies up in the citadel. Why? Had he done something to warrant this isolation? He’d known humans, and was almost certainly part human himself. But something had happened, something-

“Gach!” Lyra choked in fright as the hand shot out, grabbing her around the throat and shoving her roughly against the wall. “Thirty… What are you…?” She struggled hopelessly, her forehooves hooking onto the gigantic forearm holding her.

“Unicorn...” Thirty’s eyes burned into her. “UNICORN!”

Lyra could feel her lungs burning as she fought for air, but no matter how hard she struggled the two legged creature was as immovable as a mountain. “Thirty, please,” she gasped, “I don’t know what… what I’ve said, but...” He pressed harder, banging her head against the wall once again. “Please! Thirty, you’re… I can’t breathe…” Lyra’s magic flashed, pulling at his hand, but even this did little against such wild, animalistic rage. Darkness started to push at the edges of Lyra’s vision. Thirty’s eyes were empty, empty except for something that only he could see. Finally Lyra snatched a painful breath, thumping him hard on the head. “You’re hurting me!”

Something gave. Whatever it was, if anything at all, appeared for a brief second in the stallion’s dark brown eyes. Abruptly he released her, swiped his arm aside and upended the table sending the teapot and its content flying across the room. In that moment it upset the lantern, the light illuminating the doorway beyond. Thirty let out a bellow of such unimaginable pain and rage that the room vibrated with its emotional tempest. And Lyra did what, in that moment, she felt she had no choice but to do. She ran. Howls of indescribable torment washed over the speeding unicorn, adding swiftness to her race to escape the madness behind her. Lamps, a mix of electric and paraffin, lit the way in a sporadic mix of yellow auras, describing a path to what she hoped was freedom. Or a freedom of sorts. Not that it mattered; in her mind she could imagine the lumbering beast charging after her, ducking under the arched doorways, grabbing pipes to help propel it along, stride after increasing stride, closing the distance. Another howl, long and piteous rang out. Was it nearer? Further away perhaps. She neither knew nor cared right then. There was only one thing that burned in Lyra’s consciousness now, and that was the large metal opening ahead of her. It was a vent, or something like a vent, which had a cover long since removed and lying beside it. Although not that large, it was big enough to allow a pony through, and she all but launched herself inside, scrabbling along as fast as her hooves could carry her.

The square vent tubing turned to the left, rose, went straight, fell for a while, then rose once more. Lyra was in complete darkness other than the faint glow of her magic. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. There were scrape marks here and there too, the silvery lines showing the passage of somepony, or some thing, that had come this way more than once. There was only one ‘thing’ it could have been too, and that was behind her.

“LYRA!” The voice. That voice! “LYRAAA!” Her name was roaring up from behind her, following her through the venting, resonating, vibrating…

Lyra slipped. Hooves scabbling for purchase on smooth metal, the green mare started to hurtle forward on a decidedly downward trajectory. She tried to grab hold of something with her magic, but get hold of what?! There was nothing to grab a hold of, let alone see, and then… then with a burst of light, a crash of metal and the deafening clatter of something giving way, the green mare exploded into the corridor at the hooves of…

“Parchment?” Lyra choked on the rusty fog surrounding her. “What are you…?” She saw the zek beside him staring down at her with its ice blue eyes. Today just kept getting better and better! She reached up and held her head in resignation, “Oh, gods, what a bloody nightmare. Luna get me out of here!”

“We were looking for you,” came the simple reply from above her.

Lyra leaned back against the wall, noticed the open grate, then jumped aside as the realisation of how near she was to it hit her. Images of a claw like hand shooting out and groping for her, trying to drag her back down into the darkness, flashed in her mind’s eye with alarming clarity. “There’s… There’s something down there!” she sputtered. She looked up at Parchment, “A monster! It said it was a, I don’t know, a...” Her words died in her mouth as the implacable features of the young unicorn gave her the distinct impression he either didn’t care, or didn’t believe a bloody word she was saying.

Parchment gave a single nod of his head, motioning to the zek who readied its weapon, aiming it at the vent. “It’s alright now, Lyra,” he said as if reading it off a cue card. “You’re safe now.”

A clatter from further down the corridor made her heart leap into her thoat. “The chocks!” Lyra said suddenly, looking around in fright. “They chased me, but this thing grabbed me, and-”

“I know,” Parchment said gently, or as gently as he could which by normal standards wasn’t exactly saying much. “The maester wishes to speak to you.”

“Oh, no...”

“It’s nothing bad,” Parchment replied, leading her off along the corridor. “She assured me that you weren’t in any trouble and that she’s been concerned for your safety after you... ‘disappeared’.”

“Disappeared?” Lyra shook her head, trying to make sense of what was going on here. “I was on my way back to my room when one of those bloody chocks attacked me!” she exclaimed. “Your zek mate here ran off and left me there to get torn apart!”

Parchment glanced over his shoulder at her, “You can tell them apart?” he asked, sounding a touch sarcastic.

“Well, no, of course not,” Lyra stumbled. “They all look the same to me, but the principles the same.” She shook her head, “Anyway, look, it doesn’t matter which ‘zek’ it was, the fact is that your boss told the numb headed thing to lead me to my room and instead it took off running.”

“They are taught to defend the citadel in the event of an intrusion,” Parchment replied.

“I live in the bloody citadel!” Lyra retorted, tapping her chest. “What about me, eh? Don’t I matter? And whilst we’re on the subject, you neglected to mention that I was going to become the next incarnation of Missus bucking Mop!”

Parchment gave a shake of his mane, “You were tested by the maester for magical ability, and a skill appropriate role was found for you.”

“You what?!” Lyra dashed in front of him, cutting him off. Her actions immediately had the zek on guard and the beast hefted its weapon, pausing only after a cautionary wave of a hoof from Parchment. “You little shit!” Lyra hissed. “I risked my life coming here to rescue you, and this is the thanks I get? Gods above, I’m stuck in this insane asylum with no way home, cleaning up other ponies’ shit all day, and with only your say so that we’ll ever get out of here? I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you!” A realisation that had been nagging at the back of Lyra’s mind pushed its way to the fore. “Celestia… This is personal, isn’t it, Parchment. This your way of getting back at me for being your boss on the dig and because I didn’t give you the green light to stick your stupid ignorant muzzle into dangerous ancient magical doorways!”

“Your previous role in Equestria has nothing to do with your role here.”

“Doesn’t it?” Lyra snorted, lifting her muzzle. “And I suppose yours does, eh? You stuck up, supercilious little prick. Who the hell do you think you are? You’re just some damned kid who’s fettling the boss to get ahead, so don’t give me all your-”

Parchment’s hoof shot out like lightning, slapping Lyra across the face. His large eyes caught the daylight streaming through one of the windows, gleaming brightly with a surprising amount of emotion. He was, without doubt, absolutely furious. But instead of berating her, all he said was, “We’re here.”

Lyra recognised the door all too well. Once was more than enough to remind her that she never wanted to see either it, or its incumbent, ever again. Numbly she reached up and touched the burning sensation on her cheek. “What the hell did they do to you, Parchment?” Lyra whispered as the young stallion put his hoof on the door. “What did she do to you?”

There was a pause as if the whole world was taking a breath. And then, with almost scripted slowness, Parchment peered at her from out of the corner of one eye, “She taught me to survive.”

Lyra was still staring at him as the door closed behind them, and the maester, ensconced behind her worn desk, no doubt absorbed every single uncomfortable moment of it.

“Thank you, Parchment, you may leave us.”

“As you wish, Maester.” The stallion bowed and backed out, leaving only the maester and Lyra in the room.

“I understand you have had quite the adventure, Miss Heartstrings,” the citadels leader announced in her usual slightly weary manner. Her frighteningly metallic eyes flicked from Lyra then back to the window as if whatever was out there was infinitely more interesting than the mare she’d had escorted to her office. “Would you care to tell me about it?”

“Which part would you like to know about?” Lyra asked. “The part where I was abandoned by your zek and left to be torn apart by a chock, or maybe the part where I discovered you keep monsters in your basement that drag ponies into the depths of this delightful metal palace through any conveniently placed air duct?”

The maester’s eyes locked onto her. “Sarcasm,” she said simply. “A rare thing in ponies these days. In my position few would dare to speak to me in such a manner. You, on the other hoof, do not appear to suffer from such, shall we say, ‘inhibitions’?” She smiled that thin smile of hers, “I don’t like it.” Lyra felt her ear twitch under that unearthly, knowing gaze. “In regards to your zek problem, the matter has been resolved. The one in question has been sent for re-training and another has been assigned to you. It will escort you to work in the morning and back again in the evening.”

“And the thing that grabbed me?” Lyra asked.

“Yes…” The maester nodded to herself, shifting her gaze once again to the window. “That particular matter will have to be resolved. I have left it quite long enough I think.”

“And by ‘resolved’, you mean…?”

“I ‘mean’ the matter will be dealt with, Miss Heartstrings.” The maester’s eyebrows drew down, clearly unappreciative of being questioned. “The situation has been allowed to continue for far too long already, and I will be dealing with it in due course. Does this,” she asked politely, “answer your question?”

“No.” Lyra lifted her head, her mind surprisingly clear after her ordeal. “I have a lot of questions, Maester, and not least of which is when I will be able to go home.”

“Home?” The maester suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, let out a lilting laugh, “Such a question to ask!”

Lyra didn’t feel in the mood for humour. “And why is that?” she asked flatly.

“Why?” The brown mare leaned back in her chair and stared up at the ceiling with a smile playing across her lips. “Why indeed, Miss Heartstrings.” Her mirth was far from infectious, and if anything sounded tinged with regret and maybe even a hint of anger. “Do you know how long my ponies have been working on the master portal trying to do just that? Do you have any idea how many generations of equestrians have worked their entire lives away, hour after hour, day after day, uncomplaining, unquestioning, only to go to their graves for the next generation to pick up where they left off?”

“How could I?” Lyra replied. “I’ve hardly been here five minutes!”

“Exactly!” The maester snapped. “You cannot have even the faintest of ideas as to the amount of effort, skill and talent that our project has soaked up.” “All,” she added weightily, “with the sole goal of getting us away from this accursed place.”

“A place Celestia herself set up as a prison for criminals and dissidents, wasn’t it?” Lyra asked challengingly.

The maesters eyes hardened along with her voice, “A dissident is not a criminal,” she growled.

“True,” Lyra replied placatingly, not taking her gaze away from the maester. “But don’t you think that Celestia, an alicorn that has ruled Equestria for over a thousand years, would have spells and wards up around this island that would prevent anypony from doing precisely what you are attempting?”

“Alicorns are not omnipotent,” the maester said, thumping her hoof on the desk. “They are powerful, granted, but they are not gods.”

“Some believe they are.”

“Some ponies are damned fools!” The maester’s mane twitched noticeably. “I have no time for superstition, folklore, myths, legends, old mare’s ‘wisdom’, or religious mumbo-jumbo pedalled by charlatans and liars, Miss Heartstrings. I permit ponies to believe in whatever nonsense that they wish in the village, however it has no place here in my citadel. Here the only gods are those of hard work and scientific and technological advancement.” She closed her eyes and took a drink, sitting back in her chair as the haze of anger began to fade away. “It is my goal,” the maester explained, “to get us off this island and to a new home. That is all it has ever been, and ever will be.”

“Utilising a mixture of human and equestrian technologies,” Lyra observed.

The maester’s eyebrow raised, “I see you have been paying some attention to what we’re working with here.”

“Some,” Lyra said pleasantly, “in between mopping and sweeping.” She took a breath, “You don’t believe that there’s a fundamental difference between human technology and equestrian magical science that could be a bridge which simply cannot be travelled?”

“No.” The maester gave the slightest shake of her head, “The fundamental difference between human technology and magic is primarily one of power. Magic uses thaumaturgical energies that lie within the ecosphere, one that can be tapped into by creatures attuned to it.”

“Like unicorns.”

“Like unicorns,” the maester agreed. “The humans do not have magic, or at least they are unable to use it on their home world. It is of course possible that they could once, their histories are replete with references to it, however superstition and religious persecution obliterated any chance their race had of its mastery. Now they use a power source they call ‘Electricity’. This power can be generated artificially, and as it resides within all living things in one form or another, even on our own world, then it has been a fairly simple case of rethinking how we view magic in its raw state.” She took a sip of her drink, “A blend of both worlds. A ‘fusion’, so to speak.”

“Incredible,” Lyra breathed. She was genuinely impressed by the work they’d done here, not to mention the incredible amount of dedication the ponies had to freeing themselves from this awful prison. “Maester,” Lyra asked quietly, “may I ask one more thing?”

The brown mare sighed, flicking her mane out of her eyes, “You may, but only one. I have work to do, and this distraction from that has taken longer than I expected.”

Lyra nodded. “Thirty Thirty,” she asked. “He’s a fusion too, isn’t he. Human and Equestrian.”

For a moment Lyra didn’t think the maester would answer. The question, it appeared, was not only unexpected, it was decidedly unwelcome.

“That creature you met,” the maester explained, “is an aberration, Miss Heartstrings, a… mistake. The humans we encountered here have, shall we say, ‘primal urges’, to mate with anything that is either willing or unwilling to co-operate to satiate their baser animal desires. Their home planet is suffering from overcrowding as a result of their uncontrolled mating habits which has only served to dilute their intellectual abilities to the point where the ever expanding population constantly wars with itself for ever dwindling territory. Soon there will be no more room, no more resources, and one day… no more humans.”

“Did that happen here?” Lyra asked. “Did the human population expand?”

“A difficult task with so few human females,” the maester said dismissively. “Most of the humans that arrived were crude, uneducated, lacking in intelligence, and with a penchant towards violence and rape that would have left the few us they hadn’t killed as little more than their slaves.”

“But I haven’t seen any humans in the citadel,” Lyra said honestly. She decided not to mention Blue. Not that it would have mattered now. “Thirty told me that there are none left,” she continued. “And that they’re all-”

“Zeks,” the maester finished for her. “In that, he is correct. There are no humans here on the island, Miss Heartstrings. Here, there is no room for them, nor for anypony that is not willing to help forward the project. That is what matters. That is all that matters.”

Lyra felt a chill run down her spine as Thirty’s words ran through her mind. She hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but now the true horror of it all came “My goddesses. You turned the humans into zeks,” she said trying to get her head around the enormity of what she was hearing. “You turned intelligent beings from another world, beings who were brought here through no fault of their own, into… into those monsters?”

“They were already monsters.” The maester got up from her desk and walked towards Lyra, “Murder. Rape. Enslavement. Do you like the sound of that, Miss Heartstrings? Would you like me to tell you of how many ponies we found with their throats cut, with their foals butchered and put on spits over the fire so the humans could have some meat? Perhaps you would like me to tell you how many of us were raped, over and over and over again, sometimes to the point where the mare would die from internal haemorrhaging. Of course, many took their own lives before the humans could have a chance at violating them, dashing themselves and their newborns on rocks so the humans couldn’t...” She closed her eyes and swallowed, “It is enough to know that now, we can control them. The zeks act in our defence to protect us from the natural predators on the island, putting their predilection towards violence to a more productive use. Any who arrive here subsequently are collected and processed the same way. I assure you the process is quite painless, and the best option for all concerned.”

“Except the humans,” Lyra said, staring down at her hooves. “Surely they can’t all be…” She licked her dry lips. Blue’s face floated in her mind’s eye, smiling happily as he told her of his home. She remembered the genuine warmth and love in his eyes as he held Celandine in his arms. Was this the same kind of creature that the maester was talking about? “No,” she said solemnly shaking her head. “No, they can’t all be evil. Not all of them.”

“No, they aren’t,” the maester said in a surprisingly gentle tone of voice. She moved closer and lifted Lyra’s chin with her hoof, looking into her eyes. “Some are indeed intelligent, Lyra. Very much so,” she explained softly. “There are even those amongst them who are genuinely kind, even loving and gentle... at times. However, all too often it was that typically equine belief in kindness and willingness to see only the good in others that fooled even the most cautious amongst us. I truly wish that is where it had all ended, with our two peoples coming together to live in harmony. But fairy tales and wishful thinking is what brought us to the very brink of ruin when we first encountered them. You see, what the humans are deep down: the cruelty, the selfishness, the base desires of the brute, all rises to the surface sooner or later. It is only a matter of time.” She smiled sadly, showing a display of such genuine equine emotion that Lyra nearly took a step back in surprise. “To let them be,” the maester continued, “is not an option, Lyra. I wish it were otherwise, but that’s the way things are.” She turned away, “The sooner you learn that then the happier you will be with us here in the citadel. Now, leave me, I have answered far more questions today than I have in the last year.”

The maester walked over to the window and leaned on the sill, looking out over her world far below. Lyra didn’t know what to say, except, “Thank you.”

The maester merely waved a hoof as another, more familiar one, carefully took her shoulder. “Lyra, come. I’ll take you back to your room.” It was Parchment. Of course, it was bound to be Parchment. “The chef has prepared a fresh meal for you,” he continued as he lead her out of the room. “By the looks of you, you need it.”

“Do I?” Lyra asked dumbly. She suddenly gave herself a shake, looking up at the youth. “Did you know about this business with the zeks, Parchment?”

Parchment grimaced, “In what regard?”

“In regard to the fact that they were humans,” Lyra replied. “The maester told me that they’re ‘processed’ when they arrive on the island.”

“Then you don’t need me to tell you any more,” Parchment said simply. “That is all we need to know about it.”

“It is?” Lyra looked from Parchment to the zek trailing them. The thing shambled along with that thick shaggy ruff and the odd rolling gait they all had. Any semblance to what they apparently once were was long gone. Lyra shook her head in disbelief. It just didn’t seem real that ponies could do something so… so monstrous to another living creature. And an intelligent one at that. “I can’t say I disagree with her reasons,” Lyra continued, “but surely there had to be another way. I mean, equestrians have gotten along with their neighbours for centuries without resorting to… whatever the hell they did to these poor sods.”

Parchment snorted, glancing at Lyra sideways, “I wouldn’t call wars with the yaks, llamas and griffins, ‘getting along’, Lyra.”

“And how long ago was that?” Lyra bit back. “In any case, we didn’t mutate them into freaks we could control. I mean, look at it, Parchment, it’s like a hairy golem for Celestia’s sake!” Suddenly Lyra ran forward, span round, and blocked the path of the zek. “Hey, you, can you understand me? Can you speak?” The zek came to a thundering halt, slammed butt of its spear down on the steel floor, and stared at her. “Can. You. Speak?” Whether there was any intelligence left behind those tiny ice blue eyes didn’t appear to register anything Lyra said. Or if it did, it did one hell of a good job of ignoring her. “Can you remember who you were? Did you have a name?”

Nothing.

Parchment abruptly moved between them, his face a mixture of anger and frustration, “Celestia’s arse, Lyra, what are trying to do?!”

Lyra frowned in frustration, “I’m trying to see if there’s any human left in him. Her. It. I’m not sure really, it could be-”

“Don’t you have a brain inside that thick head of yours?” Parchment shoved her roughly back before turning to the zek, “You. Return to your station.” The zek rumbled something that sounded more like a moan than actual speech, and stalked obediently away. Parchment, however, wasn’t finished. “Are you insane?” he snapped. “Think about what would happen in the zeks could break their processing! They’re powerful, armed, and would kill us without a seconds hesitation, Lyra. You said the maester had told you what they were like before hoof. Imagine what they’d be like if they gained a realisation of what we’d done to them.”

“What we’d done to them?!” Lyra let out an angry neigh. “The ponies here did this to them, Parchment. You precious maester did this to them. Don’t lump me, or yourself for that matter, into this sick situation. Because that’s what it is, mutating humans into monsters. It’s sick!”

“And yet you know why it had to be done.” Parchment closed his eyes and sighed, “The maester would have done anything, anything at all, to avoid having to do what she did, Lyra. But in reality, as much as you may try to fool yourself into thinking you could have done something different, that somehow you could have sorted out all the conflict and avoided all the bloodshed and horror, you know damned well it was never going to end well.” Lyra was about to speak but Parchment beat her to the punch, “If you’re honest with yourself, if you apply that analytical mind I know you have to the matter, then you’d realise that if the roles had been reversed, you would have done exactly the same.”

“I...” Lyra swallowed. “I don’t know, Parchment.”

“They’re not ponies, Lyra,” the young stallion replied heavily. “They are living beings, true, but there’s no getting away from the fact that humans are extraordinarily dangerous. At least now they’re useful to us, and more importantly, they’re alive.”

“Goddesses, you call that ‘living’?”

Parchment stopped in front of Lyra’s door, pushing it open to reveal the cloth covered tray of steaming food that had been placed on the table. “Considering the alternative, then yes, I do call it living. And who knows, maybe once we’re able to get away from here the maester will be able to reverse the process and send the humans home to their world.”

Lyra had to concede that point. “I hope you’re right, Parchment,” she said walking through the doorway. “I really do.”

“You know, I’ve never met one. A human that is,” Parchment said as he took hold of the door handle. “To me they’re still just a myth. The ships on the beach, the technology - it could have been built by any race on the planet for all I know.” He shrugged, “There are times when putting yourself and your own people comes first. Here, mercy is a luxury that can get you killed. Appeasement leads to your people being raped, enslaved, and murdered.”

It sounded like a quote. “The maester tell you that?” Lyra asked curiously.

Parchment shook his head, “No, I had a better teacher.” He took a book from his pouch and tossed it onto the bed. “Maybe you should read it some time.” And with that he left, closing the door behind him.

“He’s getting far too cocky for his own good,” Lyra muttered to herself, taking a long sniff of the food beneath the cloth. It smelled delicious! Not to mention the fact she was absolutely ravenous. Taking the plate of steaming vegetables, side salad, and some sort of fried crispy things that she could easily have scoffed a whole bowlful of, she flopped onto the bed and slid the book over to herself. The title read:

Histories of the Three Tribes.

Myths, Legends, and First Hoof Accounts from the Pre-Celestian Age.

By L. Heartstrings.

“Like I said,” Lyra huffed to herself, crunching down a sautéed carrot, “too cocky by far.”