“Twi’, Ah hate to be the one to ask, but... how do we go about finding a lost city?”

They had only been traveling for about two hours, but already Ponyville was far behind them, the sun was high above them, and the great northern fields of Equestria were spread out before them like motionless waves of flowers and grass.  When they had left Fluttershy’s cottage, the sky had been dark and the air had been brisk and dry, and as they traveled out of Ponyville the sunrise was a blessing that brought light and warmth.  But as the day went on, the sun continued to beat down upon them, and soon the morning’s savior became the afternoon’s oppressor.

With nothing but open field in every direction, there was no shade to be found—the rolling hills were not nearly tall enough to provide even a crevice of cover.  Soon the sun was a great fiery torment in the sky.

“... ’Cause Ah don’t mean to complain or nothin, but it’s a mite hot, and—”

“Really, Applejack?”  Rarity, who trotted alongside her panting friend, gave her a look of disappointment.  “I’d have thought that you, of all ponies, could stand a little heat, what with all the work you do on the farm.”

“That’s precisely it!  Work.  At least on the farm, Ah’m doin work, under the shade of apple trees and with all the cider Ah want back at home.  But this is just walking!  Ah can’t get my mind off this heat.”  Then she grinned deviously.  “Seems like it’s hot for you, too.  Is that sweat on your forehead?”

Rarity shrieked.  “Twilight, we must find shade immediately!”

Twilight groaned, partly from the heat, and partly because she had intended on covering far more ground on their first day.  “Alright, fine, we’ll take a break to find some shade.  Must be thirty seven degrees out here.”  Confused glances from the group.  “Celsius.”

The entire party, except for Nova, sighed with relief.  To her, the sun was rejuvenating, and its warm rays seemed to energize her as though she were a golden solar cell.  She had been quiet most of the trip, sometimes smiling at the antics of her new friends, but mostly she was nervous about the entire ordeal—the dangers of the quest, the uncertainty that they’d ever find their destination, and finally the relentless fear that if they did, they’d discover terrible things about her, or unlock awful memories from within her scattered mind.

Twilight paused to wipe the sweat from her forehead.  “And to answer your question, Applejack, we don’t know where the City of Dressage is, but we do know it’s to the north, and that’s where we’re headed now.”

Dash landed in front of Twilight with a refreshing gust of air.  “Twilight, do you mean to tell me that we’ve walked half a million miles on a whim?  You couldn’t have, I don’t know, done some research first, or something?  I’m sure the location of this place is in a book of yours somewhere!”

To Dash’s bemusement, Twilight broke out into a huge—and slightly cunning—grin.  “A few things, Rainbow—one: we’ve only walked about thirty miles so far.  Two: the only mention of the City of Dressage was from your storybook, remember?  And that didn’t give any clues as to where it may be.  Three: we’re not stopping for shade anymore.  I just had an idea.”

Pinkie gasped excitedly.  “Oh Twilight I just had an idea too!  On the count of three, say your idea: onetwothree we should send Celestia a letter and tell her to lower the sun!”

Twilight planted a hoof against her forehead.  “Pinkie, that’s crazy for so many reasons I won’t even bother listing them all.”

“I thought it was a good idea,” Fluttershy said, smiling reassuringly at Pinkie.

Twilight regained her composure and turned to face her friends.  “Okay, here’s the real plan...”

“This is stupid,” Dash said.

“WHAT?” Applejack shouted, clutching her hat tightly with a front hoof.  “YOU’LL HAVE TA SPEAK UP!”

Rainbow Dash was at the head of the group, wings flapping so fast they were nothing but a cerulean blur.  They sounded like the roar of a hundred hummingbirds, and generated a gust ten times a strong, which she aimed back at her friends.

“I SAID... ugh, nevermind.”  She kept flapping.  It was easy work; she could keep it up for hours if she had to.  Thankfully that wouldn’t be the case—the sun would be going down soon, and then she’d be able to stop.  The noise was so loud that she couldn’t hear anypony or join in on the conversations, which made the trip excruciatingly boring.

“Wow, Twilight, your idea was way better than mine!”  Pinkie giggled, her poofy hair flying back against the refreshing breeze.  “No wonder I put you in charge!”

“Oh, this is just divine! Rainbow, you’d be rich if you charged ponies for this in the summer!”  Rarity grinned contentedly, feeling the sweat evaporate off her forehead in the cooling gust.

Applejack failed to stifle her laughter.  “And you’d be rich if you offered to fix their manes afterward.”

Rarity looked up, and noticed her mane was completely unkempt, forced back behind her from the wind like a flag in a hurricane.  “For your information, Applejack, this is still better than sweating.”

Fluttershy closed her eyes and smiled to herself, enjoying the cool air.  Then she turned questioningly to Nova.  “How are you doing?  You’ve hardly said a word since we left.”

Nova smiled back warmly, pushing her worries aside.  “I’m okay.  I really enjoy your friends.  They’re very fun to watch.”  She turned her face into Dash’s artificial breeze, letting it wash over her and run through her mane.  “I don’t think I ever had friends like yours.  I mean, if I did I wouldn’t remember... but when you showed me lightning bugs, there was this little feeling in my head like I’d seen them before.  But I don’t get that with your friends.  I think it’s new.”  

Fluttershy was about to respond, when suddenly the refreshing wind disappeared.

“Why in tarnation’d you stop, Dash?  We’ll roast alive!”

But Dash had her back to them, looking forward into the distance.  Everypony followed her gaze.

“Um, Twilight, what should we do?” Rarity asked, eyeing the horizon fearfully.

Twilight thought frantically for a moment, but no answers came.  She resorted to her backup plan.

“Run for cover!  Everypony ruuuuun!”

***

They stood in Rosemary’s kitchen, the dusk sun peering through the curtains and casting thick shadows that conspired along the walls.

“I still don’t believe it,” said the emerald-green stallion who sat at the head of the table.  “There isn’t a magical thing about her.  She doesn’t even have a horn.”

“Let Rosemary finish,” said the mare who was with him.  She had a warm auburn coat.  Nova could see her cutie mark was a sewing needle and thread.

“Than you, Weave.  I’m telling the truth.  She really glows.  It’s very pretty—she becomes translucent, like a foggy window, and then this warm golden light... it’s like it comes from inside her.  It’s beautiful.”

Rosemary gave Nova a smile, which she nervously returned.  She didn’t like being the centerpiece of the conversation, with everypony staring at her and judging her like a prize hog.  And a small part of her was far away, trying to put it all together—the glowing, the strange but not unwelcome feeling of power, the candle incident.  She had come to realize that whatever Ebb had done to her that day in the prison cell was the root of it all, but there were still so many questions.

“Maybe she glows,” huffed the stallion.  “In that case I suggest you take her to a doctor and then get her out of the city.  I’m not going back to the others with your false hope.  It’ll crush them.”  His brows lowered into a grimace of resentment, which he directed at Rosemary.  “You were foolish to tell us this mare was our path to freedom.  Ridiculous.  Not even a horn on her head.”

“Alpha!” Weave gasped.  “How could you—”

“Listen to me!” Rosemary shouted, pounding a hoof against the table and ignoring Weave’s mediating words.  “This girl, this Corik, is our best hope.  She escaped from the Choke!  She’s used magic, I’ve seen it!”

“More lies!” the stallion shouted back.  “Nopony escapes from the Choke!  Nopony ever has, and nopony ever will.  That prison is impenetrable.  You’re clearly not thinking rationally.”

“Don’t you dare call me irrational!  I’m the one presenting a solution, and you choose to ignore it!  I know what your problem is—you want me to be wrong.  Because you’re afraid of hoping.  You’re afraid to believe in anything, because if it lets you down, you’ll be crushed.  Well guess what?  We’re already being crushed!”

“Rosemary, Alpha—”

“How dare you say that!  I want to end this tyranny as well as you do.  I just don’t want to put faith in this girl, who’s barely a mare, and who who hasn’t even a horn!”

“Rosemary, Alpha, I think—”

“Alpha, you’re a strong leader.  But you’ve got a thick skull.  You must learn that sometimes all you can do is hope—even if you’re afraid to, even if you don’t want to.  Because if you can’t put your faith in something, then what are you even fighting for?”

Weave, who had been trying desperately to intervene, finally grabbed Rosemary by the shoulders.  “Rosemary!  Look!”

Rosemary, face still sharp from arguing, snapped her head toward Weave.  “What?”

But the answer was right in front of her.  Nova was on the ground, eyes shut and breathing in weak shallow bursts.

***

Nova slowly opened her eyes, then waited for her vision to clear.  She was in a bedroom.  Rosemary’s—she could tell by the pictures on the nightstand.  The bed beneath her was cozy, the blanket atop her warm.  Alpha sat in one corner of the room next to Weave.  Rosemary herself sat at the edge of the bed.  She sprang to her hooves the moment she saw Nova open her eyes.

“Nova, you’re awake!  How are you?  How do you feel?  Drink this water.”

Nova took the glass from Rosemary and drank a small sip.  The color began returning to her face, which had become dull, like a sepia photograph.  “I’m sorry, I just got really lightheaded... all those months in the cell, almost no food...”

Alpha fought to contain a Hmph! of reproach.  The way she had said that made it sound like she really was imprisoned, which couldn’t be possible.  A small part of him began to think that maybe she was an enemy Corik infiltrating their city, but he pushed that thought aside immediately—the Coriks weren’t really enemies, that was just a myth created by the King to fund his war.  To accuse Nova that way would mean accepting the lies put forth by the one pony he was sworn to dethrone.  Then maybe she speaks the truth, the rational part of his mind said.  Why would she lie?  The King is her enemy, and the King is my enemy, and the enemy of my enemy is my—but he shook his head to clear that train of thought.  Down that path were too many conflicting sides, too much uncertainty.

Nova took a big gulp from the glass.  “I feel better now, really.”  She gave a weak smirk.  “All the running I did from that guard yesterday caught up to me, you know?”

Rosemary took the pitcher and refilled her glass.  “Well, as long as you’re okay,” she said.  “It almost looked like you couldn’t breathe.  We were so scared.  But as soon as Alpha carried you up here and put you in bed, you started to improve.  Thank goodness.”

“Are we done here?” Alpha said, promptly getting to his hooves.  “It was nice meeting your frail friend, but there’s a real solution out there, and I intend to find it.”

Nova studied the blanket, embarrassed.

“Don’t you storm out!” Rosemary shouted.  “She can prove it!  She can prove she’s the one we need.”  Alpha watched with indifference as she stood up and grabbed one of the candles from the nightstand, then carried it over to the side of the bed.  With a small huff, she blew it out, and the shadows grew a little thicker.  “Light it, Nova.”

Nova perked up in surprise.  “...Light it?  I don’t know if I can do that...”

Rosemary frowned.  “You did it before, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but... I don’t know how I did it, it just sort of happened...”

The room fell silent.  Rosemary and Alpha stared at her intently, waiting for her to do something.

“Oh, stop it, both of you!” Weave finally said, getting to her hooves.  “Let the poor thing rest!  There will be time for that when she’s feeling well.”

“No, there won’t,” Alpha said, heading for the door.  “Have fun with your candles.  If this city is to survive, I can’t be distracted by hoaxes or pipe dreams.”

“Alpha, don’t you walk out,” Rosemary said, her voice menacingly quiet and quaking with rapture.  “If you care about this city, and the unicorns, then don’t you dare walk out.”

For one tense moment, everypony was silent.  Then, without turning, Alpha spoke: “I hope you feel better, Corik.”  Then he opened the bedroom door to leave.

BUM BUM BUM.

Everypony froze.

That had definitely come from the front door downstairs.  Alpha turned around slowly, eyes lowered and calculating.  Weave glanced to Rosemary, grimacing, as if expecting a bomb to go off at any moment.  Nova looked at her three companions in turn, not sure what was happening but certain that it was very bad.

They remained that way for a few moments, perfectly still, hoping it could just be a neighbor, or maybe a package delivery.

BUM BUM BUM.

But no neighbor knocked so loudly—not in these times, when everypony did their best to remain quiet and insignificant, moving about with their heads down and their voices soft.  And the delivery service had been shut down long ago, as one of King Hornfire’s first orders.

“ROSEMARY BEAUFORT,” boomed a baritone voice, “BY THE KING’S WILL, YOU ARE TO STEP OUTSIDE AT ONCE UNDER SUSPICION OF HOUSING A FUGITIVE.”

Slowly, everypony turned toward Nova.  Under their gazes, she suddenly wished to disappear; she wished that the guard had caught her, or that Rosemary had never been kind enough to let her in.  She had come to them with the intent of freeing them from oppression, and instead she had brought it right to their door.  And she knew the penalty, too—she had lived through it herself.  The prison, the Choke, whatever it was called: that’s what they would face.  That or worse.  All because she showed up to help.

“The guard must have seen you come in!” Rosemary whispered.

“WE ARE AUTHORIZED TO USE DEADLY FORCE SHOULD YOU DISOBEY!” the voice continued.  “IF THIS DOOR IS NOT OPENED IN TEN COUNTS, WE WILL OPEN IT FOR YOU, AND YOUR PUNISHMENT WILL BE MORE SEVERE.”

“What do we do?” Weave whispered, her voice shrill.  “Are there any doors or exits we could escape through?”

“ONE!”

“There’s a backdoor, but guards will be waiting there,” Alpha said, instinctively taking control.  He turned to Nova.  “Can you walk?”

“TWO!”

“I... maybe, I mean, probably not, I—”

“Then there’s only one thing we can do.”

Nova gasped as he threw the covers off her and physically lifted her up onto his back.

“ALPHA!” Rosemary hissed, her eyes wide and frenzied, “what are you DOING?”

“THREE!”

“The way I see it,” Alpha said, carrying the mare easily—she weighed almost nothing—“we either all die or get thrown in prison, or we turn over this one here, who claims she’s been in the Choke already anyway.”  He headed for the door, his luggage hanging limply on his back.

Rosemary threw herself in his path, spreading her front hooves to block the doorway.  “You can’t do this!  She’s my friend, Alpha!  How can you throw her to the dogs like this?”

“FIVE!”

“It pains me to do it, Rose, but it’s her or us.  I’m sorry.”  He pushed past her like he’d push past a flower.  Nova lay on his back quietly, weak and resigned to her fate.  She deserved it for putting her new friends in danger.  But what about Ebb? a little part of her thought.  What about his sacrifice?  What about your promise to him?  What about ending everything once and for all?  And it was like a spark inside her ignited, and suddenly she felt like she was emerging from a dream.

“Let me down!” she said, thrashing weakly and beating at him with her hooves, to absolutely no effect.  “I made a promise!  Let me down!”

“SEVEN!”

“Alpha!” Weave hissed, running out the bedroom door to follow him.  “You can’t!”

Now he was at the stairs.  Rosemary and Weave were behind him, trying to somehow grab Nova off his back, but it was no use.  Out of desperation, Rosemary bit Alpha’s tail and gave it a rough yank.

It worked—he leapt up in surprise, bucking Nova off his back and smashing her against the hallway wall with tremendous force.  Rosemary and Weave were immediately by her side, simultaneously trying to awaken her and shielding her from Alpha, who snarled at them, enraged.

“You can’t take her!”  Rosemary pleaded.  “What kind of leader are you?  She’s one of us—a friend!  And look what you did—she’s unconscious!  She could be really hurt!  How dare you?”

“NINE!”

Alpha would have explained that it was for the greater good, and that they’d thank him eventually, but instead his face lit up, first with a calm and golden light, then with awe.  Rosemary knew from experience what was happening, but Weave had never seen it before, and so when she turned to follow their gaze, she gasped.

Nova’s eyes were loosely shut and her face was slack with empty unconsciousness, but indeed she was glowing.  The entire landing was suddenly golden and yellow and shimmering, and reflected with wonder in the eyes of her three companions.

“TEN!  Everypony stand”

***

“clear of the door!” Sgt. Boots shouted in his much-rehearsed voice of authority.  He was indeed an intimidating figure—taller, wider, and louder than just about any pony he’d ever met.  This was advantageous to his line of work, and to his lifestyle in general.  He wore only a thin vest, upon which was a little red and grey pin that identified him as a servant to King Hornfire.

Nopony backed away from the door because nopony had been standing near it.  Sgt. Boots very much liked to make a good first impression, and he did this by shouting, and if he couldn’t find a good reason for it, he made one up.  He also wasn’t really a sergeant.  Nor did he wear boots.

Sgt. Boots was all about image.

He had been having an awful day until the King had given him the order to break into a rebel’s home.  He had happily obliged—of course, if he hadn’t, he probably would have been exiled from the city.  The key word there was “happily.”

It was one of his most favorite pastimes.  Nothing gave him the sense of power he so desperately craved than breaking into somepony’s home and hauling them off to prison.  And he suspected that when this job was over, he’d be promoted, for yet another mark in his flawless record.  Plus, the King seemed to have special interest in this Rosemary Beaufort and whomever she was hiding.

He turned to his right-hoof pony and gave a nod.  This was his favorite part.  Sometimes they actually opened the door before he got to ten, and that ruined all the fun, but not this time.  This really was turning out to be a great day.

His subordinate wheeled back the ram, aligning it with the door.  Normally this was done by magic, since the ram—which was really just a big wooden log—was quite heavy.  But because of the magic crysis, they had to make due with physically pushing the thing.  Sgt. Boots found that doing it manually was actually quite gratifying—he’d never say it aloud, but perhaps this was one case where muscle was superior to magic.  The grunting of his companion, who struggled to get the contraption rolling, gave him an even greater sense of superiority.

The cadet put his back against the ram, his face burning red and his eyes squeezed shut as he began inching it toward the door.  It started slowly, but soon accelerated, gaining massive momentum, until it finally collided with the door in a wood-splintering, bone-rattling CRACK.

Sgt. Boots watched with disdain as the entire door collapsed into the house, the ram going with it.  He had hoped it would resist the first collision, so as to retain some suspense and to prolong his enjoyment.  Oh, well—if the ram was the best part, what came next was his second favorite.

“Alright, boyo, I go in first.  Just watch and learn and don’t touch anything.  This one’s a young rebel mare housing a convict.  We’ll nip ’er and her friend and then grab some lunch.”  He stepped through the doorway, making sure to trample the fallen door, producing a satisfying splintery sound.

The inside of the house was dark.  The curtains had all been drawn.  “You rebels and your games,” Sgt. Boots muttered.  “Drawing the blinds like fillies playing clubhouse.”  He looked around the foyer, taking in the portraits and flower vases and furniture, smelling the smell of recently cooked meals.  “Nice abode.  Quaint.  Perfect for a little schemin’ and plottin’.”

During his initial overview, his eyes were immediately drawn to the stairway landing.  If he were a rebel in hiding, that’s where he’d be: upstairs.

“Where are they?” his companion asked, glaring around like a fawn in a forest.

Sgt. Boots chuckled the chuckle of an experienced sailor taking his son to sea for the first time.  “Well, they’re hidin’, you see.  Hidin’ is what rebels do best.  But findin’ rebels is what I do best.  Look up yonder, laddie,” he said, motioning toward the staircase.  “I’ve been doin’ this a long time, and I’m never wrong.  Up there is where they’ll be.  In the master bedroom, probably the closet.”  He winked.  “I’ll bet yer lunch.”

The younger stallion, still nearly a colt, grinned wickedly.  “Will you need my help grabbing them?”

The Sergeant laughed his hearty laugh, his chest bellowing.  “I think for your first bust, it’s best if you just watch a master at work, ya understand?  Now let’s go get ’em.  They’ve been listenin’ to us talk this whole time, hopin’ we’ll leave or forget.  Probably quaking in their boots!”  He laughed harder than ever.

They slowly crept up the stairs, like lions ready to pounce.  They climbed two steps, then another two, then Sgt. Boots held his hoof up, and they both froze and listened.

There was no sound for a moment.

Then there was a shifting sound from somewhere upstairs, like that of a pony trying but failing to remain still.

Sgt. Boots and his protege turned to each other and grinned.

They continued their ascent, until finally they were at the top of the stairs, which opened into a wide and oak-floored hallway.  Lining the hallway were several rooms, each open and seemingly empty.  At the far end was a door that stood ajar, the entranceway to a dark and quiet room.

“Right in there,” the Sergeant whispered, nodding toward the room.  “That’s where they are.  Alright, yeh scum,” he bellowed.  “We gotcha cornered.  Come out quietly and we won’t hurtya.”  At this he turned to his assistant and winked.

They waited in silence for a moment, then the Sergeant began to trod down the hall.  “They never do listen,” he said.  “Oh well.  We have no choice but to take ’em by force.  What a pity!”

Fink followed his superior down the hallway, trailing a few steps behind.  He was actually a little nervous, though he trusted fully in Sgt. Boots’s abilities.  The Sergeant was clearly very good at what he did, and Fink looked up to him with a respect and admiration that was nearly reverence.

There was a short and sharp “Ah!” from just behind Fink and to his left.

He froze.  Already he knew that it was an ambush, the rebels were right behind him, prepared to bash his head in or cut his throat.  There were three of them, maybe four, and if they didn’t kill him they’d use him as a hostage to get to Sgt. Boots.  They’d do this because they hated the King and justice and civility.  Because they were savage rebels.

He gulped, already feeling a cold knife against his neck.

“What’re ya waiting for, boy?  We got rebels to sack, and I’m buildin’ up an appetite for some grub.  Get a move on!”

Fink opened his eyes and slowly turned around.  There was nothing behind him.  Of course there wasn’t.  It had been his imagination.  Suddenly he felt very stupid, and he was glad the Sergeant didn’t know what he had been thinking.  The first-day jitters had gotten to him.

He swallowed his shame and caught up to his burly leader, who kicked the open door off its hinges and lunged into the room.

“Alright, I don’t wanna waste your time and you don’t wanna waste mine,” Sgt. Boots shouted into the darkness, looking for a candle to light and then remembering he couldn’t use magic anyway.  “I’ve got a delicious sandwich waitin’ for me, and you’ve got a nice prison block lined up for you.  Wherever yer hiding, why don’t ya come out?”

He ambled blindly but expertly through the darkness, reaching out randomly in the hopes of snatching a mane or a leg or a neck.  Out of all the hiding techniques he had ever come across, the darkness was a favorite of his for two reasons: one is that it always made the experience more interesting and exciting.  The other is that when he eventually grew tired of it, he could simply turn on a light and end the games.

With none of his grasps returning any catches, he decided enough was enough.  There was a thin band of light along a nearby wall, and he approached it, dodging a chair and a stepping over a pillow that had been thrown on the floor.  Already he had the room memorized and could navigate it just fine in the dark—that was a skill he had acquired over time—but these rebels were sly ones, as he had caught neither hide nor tail of them so far.

Once he reached the window he pulled back the blinds, bathing the room in revealing sunlight.  His eyes adjusted immediately, while Fink staggered backward, shielding his sensitive vision.

If one were to look closely, they’d see a vein thumping mightily in Sgt. Boots’s forehead.  He grit his teeth, and his eyes narrowed menacingly.

There was no sight of anypony, rebel or otherwise.

“So these fellows want to play games, do they?” he growled.

“You said they’d be here, Sergeant.  Where are they?”

It was all he could do to not smack the boy.  Instead, he glanced around the room again, his keen eyes studying details and looking for signs.

The bed.  Its covers were thrown to the floor, along with several pillows, as if its inhabitant had left in a hurry.  He walked over and felt it with a hoof.  It was warm.

On the nightstand was a blue candle.  He squinted, and saw liquid wax running down its side.

There was a glass of water, half empty, next to the candle.  It was perspiring, and there were fresh water rings on the table.

“They’re still here,” the Sergeant said.  “They haven’t left.”

Fink looked around dubiously.  “Are... you sure?”  He caught Sgt. Boots’s eye and glanced down.  “I’m sorry, sir—you’re right.  They’re still here.  But... how do you know?”

The Sergeant—a bounty hunter in his younger days—squinted, taking in the rest of the room.  “Son, when ye’ve been doin’ this as long as I have... you learn the signs.  Now get searchin’!  They’re here, I can smell ’em!”

***

Alpha couldn’t stop staring at the golden mare, his green coat blanketed in warm golden patterns that swam across his dazzled face.

“Rosemary,” Weave murmured, as illuminated and incredulous as Alpha, “is this what you meant the whole time?  Is this—”

“Yes!  But there’s no time!  We need to leave now before they find a way in and—”

CRACK.  The splintering, shattering sound could only have been the door breaking down.

Alpha and Weave broke out of their stupor and they all gasped—except for Nova, who lay there motionless and knocked cold, though still incredibly bright.

Weave turned to Rosemary in desperation, to the mare who had always known exactly what to do in the face of any danger, even back when they were both young foals misbehaving in class.  But now she looked lost, with no solution, all the doors around them were closed—except for one, which had been broken down, and in its doorway stood a brute.

“You rebels and your games,” came a voice from downstairs.

Alpha knew that voice.  That was none other than Sgt. Boots.  Even with Nova’s warm light bathing his face, he could feel cold hatred seeping into his heart.  Sgt. Boots—a ridiculous name for a ridiculous pony, one who had taken or killed too many of his friends to count.  The Sergeant himself, the hound dog, the King’s favorite little errand boy.  And he was just down the stairs.

Alpha couldn’t win in a fight, and he knew it.  More powerful ponies than he had been torn down by the Sergeant.  And even if he could win, killing the Sergeant would only bring the full might of King Hornfire down upon them, the resistance would be crushed, and all would be lost.

And yet Alpha wanted nothing more than to storm down those stairs and make that monster bleed.

He was torn out of his thoughts by the quiet movements of Rosemary and Weave, who were attempting to lift the unconscious but still-glowing Nova onto Rosemary’s back.  He lifted a hoof to help, but Rosemary glared daggers at him.

Stay away, she mouthed.  Monster.

“I’ve been doin’ this a long time,” came the voice from downstairs.  “And I’m never wrong.  Up there is where they’ll be.  In the master bedroom, probably the closet.”

Rosemary and Weave redoubled their efforts, but even though Nova weighed very little, her limp body was somehow heavy and difficult to lift.

Alpha offered a hoof again, and this time Rosemary’s glare was less severe but just as mistrustful.

“Now let’s go get ’em,” the voice downstairs said.  “They’ve been listenin’ to us talk this whole time, hopin’ we’ll leave or forget.  Probably quaking in their boots!”  It erupted into laughter, a rattly hollow sound like wind through a dead tree.

Rosemary stepped aside, allowing Alpha to bend down and pick up Nova like a bag of flour, but her eyes were full of hate the entire time.  It hardly mattered—there was nowhere to go.  No other exits, no escape from the killer who would come up the stairs.

And even so, Rosemary had hope, dim as it might have been.

The moment Nova was in Alpha’s grasp, her eyes flung open, wide and staring like a caged animal, and she would have screamed if he hadn’t immediately covered her mouth.  She began to beat at him weakly again, assaulting the pony who wanted to throw her to the killer, but Rosemary put a hoof against her side and she calmed down a little.

They all heard the creaking of the bottom step.

They looked to each other, all thinking the same thing.  This is it.  We can’t run now, there’s nowhere to go.  There’s nothing we can do that won’t make a sound, nowhere we can go that they won’t search.  There’s no plan of attack we can use to take down the King’s most prolific killer.  All we can do is sit here.  Alpha considered pouncing on Boots the moment he emerged onto the final landing; maybe it’d be enough to buy the others time to run.  But he knew it would be no good.  Not with guards waiting outside, too.

Nova’s mind whirled like a hurricane, all types of thoughts and emotions bubbling up within her.  Hide, disappear, friends in danger, the Choke, the nooses, your fault, your fault, hide, disappear, Ebb... Ebb, I promised... Hide disappear...

And then she felt it.  The same power that had surged through her when she ran from the guard the day she escaped the Choke, the same vibrating hummmm that charged through her mind when she lit the candle.  Only much stronger, a waterfall now, dwarfing those past moments.

It was that place, that special place Ebb had taken her in her own mind (or maybe it wasn’t her mind, maybe it was somewhere else, but it felt like her mind).  Except when Ebb had taken her there, it had been hollow and empty.  Now it contained an ocean—a shallow ocean, like a puddle that went on for miles and miles, but an ocean nonetheless.

Without even thinking about it, Nova drew from that pool of energy, converted it to what she needed most.  It flowed through her like a cool stream, and the hallway grew darker as her golden glow began to fade away—not because she had stopped glowing, but because her entire body was fading, becoming first translucent and then completely transparent.

Alpha, Weave, and Rosemary watched in amazement as Nova disappeared before them, and then as each one of them began to do the same.

Weave brought a hoof to her face and stared at it, watching it fade away, until she was staring directly through it—and into the dark eyes of the wraithlike pony who had emerged from top of the stairs.

She fought every urge to run.  He can’t see me.  He can’t see me.  He can’t see me.

They all held perfectly still while the the Sergeant passed by them, trailed by his scrawny assistant.

“Right in there,” he whispered, nodding toward the bedroom they had run out of what felt like ages ago.  “Alright, yeh scum!” he shouted.  Though he had already passed them by a few paces, Rosemary could smell his horrid breath.  “We gotcha cornered.  Come out quietly and we won’t hurtya.”  He turned to his assistant and winked.

Alpha imagined himself pouncing onto the villain, attacking him from nowhere.  He’d have the element of surprise, and Boots couldn’t fight what he couldn’t see.  He might stand a chance.  But it was too risky—there were guards outside, and it would only be a matter of time before one of them tripped over Rosemary and figured out their game.  So he sat there, blood boiling, trying not to grind his teeth for fear it would be heard.

“Oh well.  We’ll have to take ’em by force.  What a pity!”  He began to prowl down the hallway, his muscular and crude personality somehow shoved into the smooth body of a feline; even his eyes were like a cat’s: orbs that hovered green in the dark and stared at you like they were watching you die.

His apprentice followed, clumsy and bumbling behind to his silent boss.  He took a few steps, and then one landed directly on Weave’s tail.

“Ah!” she gasped, unable to contain either the surprise or the pain.

The young pony froze.  Nova, Alpha, Weave, and Rosemary held their breaths, watching anxiously.  Rosemary was actually afraid they could hear her drops of sweat pitter pattering on the floor.  But the young stallion remained perfectly still and tense, while his older partner crawled silently down the hallway, completely focused on the door at the end.  

The Sergeant noticed his protege was dawdling by the stairs.  “What’re ya waiting for, boy?  We got rebels to sack, and I’m buildin’ up an appetite for some grub.  Get a move on!”

The invisible ponies watched as the young unicorn slowly turned to face them.  If they had been visible, he would have been looking right into Alpha’s chest.  But instead, he only saw the wall behind it, and with a sigh of relief, he hurried up to join his boss.

Sgt. Boots turned around and bucked the door off its hinges, then lunged into the room, shouting wild threats.  With the hallway all to themselves, Alpha wasted no time, and nudged each of his three invisible companions with a hoof, hoping to convey that now was a very good time to leave.

The message was well received, and the ponies shifted quietly to their hooves, joints cracking and popping from the strain of remaining motionless for so long.  But Boots heard nothing—he was still in the bedroom, and had just pulled open the blinds, revealing an empty room and renewing his rage.

Down the stairs the invisible ponies went, into the foyer.  Rosemary felt like crying when she saw the front door smashed to pieces, fragments lying all over her living room floor.  It was a sight she had imagined and yet dismissed many times, and seeing it before her now was somehow more shocking than the Sergeant walking down her hallway or into her bedroom.

There was another shout from upstairs.  “Get searchin’!  They’re here, I can smell ’em!”

Rosemary stepped gingerly over a door fragment, them collided squarely with Alpha’s flank, which, of course, she hadn’t seen.  Alpha stumbled for a step, kicking a door fragment against the wall by accident.

A rather bored looking guard peeked his head through the doorway, peered around suspiciously, then disappeared.

The invisible ponies waited a second longer, then Rosemary heard Alpha start to move again, and followed suit.  They stepped through the door where the guard had just been, out into the delicious midday sunlight.  The guard was standing beside the door, trying to scratch himself beneath his metal plated armor.

They walked past him quietly.  Rosemary knew Alpha was in the lead, but once they passed the guard, she wasn’t sure where he had gone.  Then she saw a splash in a puddle to her right, and followed after it.  She was relieved to hear the quiet clip-clopping of the others behind her.

They rounded a corner, then another, then another, following Alpha’s purposeful splashes or mudprints or other signs.  Eventually, they came to a stop, deep in the back of an alleyway between a recruitment post and what was once a toy shop.

“Are you guys there?” Rosemary heard Weave whisper from just behind her.

“I’m here,” Rosemary responded.

There was a strange tingling sensation, like the feeling returning to a hoof that had fallen asleep.  Rosemary looked down at herself to see that she was becoming visible once more, slowly fading into existence like an image developing on an instant-film camera.  A quick glance confirmed that the others were becoming visible again as well.

“That was amazing!” Weave exclaimed, voice still a hushed whisper even though they were out of danger.  “She really can use magic.  And such a high-level spell, too!  I’d—wait...”  Her face fell, and the three looked at each other with horror—even Alpha.  “Where is she?  Where’s Nova?”

***

“What is it?” Applejack said, staring at the horizon, mouth agape.  A gentle but ominous breeze began to play with the rim of her hat.

“I don’t know!  Just do what I said and run!”  But nopony paid Twilight any heed—they could only watch the distant sky, transfixed.

A storm was approaching.  But not like a Ponyville storm, carefully constructed through much planning by pegasi weather teams.  This storm was monstrous.  It billowed and rolled all along its exterior as it steamrolled through the air, reaching higher into the atmosphere than most pegasi dared to fly.  Diminished flashes of white blotched its surface intermittently, the result of internal lightning strikes that somehow seemed to power its expansion.  It spread in every direction, stretching rapidly toward them.  The blistering midday heat was suddenly gone, replaced by a deceptively light and cool breeze that, oddly enough, blew toward the storm rather than away from it.

All at once the day seemed to darken, the sun rudely interrupted of its duty as tormentor by an even more malicious spirit.  The lower portion of the storm was blotched by two segments that were slightly red, two eyes that stared gleefully down at its new victims.

And all the while, it rolled toward them, preceded by an alarming drop in pressure that made the air feel motionless and thin despite the foreboding breeze.

“I’ve heard of these,” Dash said, voice full of frightened awe.  “They’re rogue storms.  Every once in awhile the cloud factory makes a dud—a bad cloud.  They dump those somewhere safe, away from Ponyville.  If enough of them group together, they can form... something like this.”

Fluttershy suppressed a whimper.  Something deep within her, some instinct shared by all creatures with wings, shouted danger, danger!  She could feel the pressure drop by the second, making every breath seem like a desperate gasp for air.  “Is... is it dangerous?”

“Oh yeah,” Rainbow said.  “They’re dangerous, all right.”

“Uh, fellas,” Applejack said, clutching her hat, which kept trying to fly away toward the cloud-behemoth, “Ah say we take Twi’s advice and get the hay out of here!”

“Where will we go?”  Rarity gasped, looked around in a panic and nearly hyperventilating.  “There’s nothing out here but field for miles and miles!”

“I’m getting bad vibes from this,” Pinkie said.  The once-distant pillar was now approaching them at a terrifying pace, and the wind was picking up considerably, now nearly matching Dash’s breeze from earlier—though much more threatening.  Those watchful red eyes loomed down over them.  There was a flash of lightning, followed almost immediately by ear-splitting thunder.

Nova began taking steps backwards, subconsciously putting distance between herself and the storm.  “So, running?  Is that what we’re going to do?  I mean, I know I’m new and all, and you guys probably have a preferred way of dealing with stuff like this, but it’s been suggested three times now, and nopony has—”

Applejack’s hat flew out of her grasp and spiraled through the air, disappearing into the clutches of the storm, which spread fast and thick above them now, like an oil spill.  “Everypony run!” she shouted, and the seven ponies finally began to sprint away as fast as they could, daisies and grass and weeds being pulled up around them by the storm like dirt into a vacuum cleaner.

They ran, gasping for breath, and the storm gave chase.  Dash spread her wings, knowing she could outfly a misbehaving stormcloud any day of the week, but the moment she did the gust began to suck her up off the ground and into the mouth of the storm.  She folded them again in a hurry, and began to push herself to run faster.  She was nearing her limit.  They all were.

Like a child playing with its food, the storm pressed them on.  Fluttershy ran as fast as she could, and then a little faster, and then suddenly the ground left her hooves and it didn’t come back.  She looked down, and realized she was floating several inches above the earth—the storm had begun to pull her in.  A panicked glance showed the same was happening to Dash; the pegasi were lightweight, they were built to fly.  Even when they didn’t want to.  They hovered inches off the ground, galloping uselessly with their hooves.  Fluttershy noticed with surprise that Nova, too, was being lifted up.  She recalled carrying Nova on her back to her cottage the night they had found her, how light she had been.

The others, the non-pegasi minus Nova, continued to sprint upon the ground, unaware that their lightweight companions were being sucked into the monstrous cumulonimubus.

“Twilight!” Dash shouted.  “Help!”

Twilight looked back, gasping for air, and saw Fluttershy, Nova, and Dash floating farther and farther into the widening maw of the storm.  Oh, no!  There was nothing she could do—not without magic.  She watched as the three ponies spiraled into the storm, disappearing into its whirling and tumultuous grasp.

“No!” she shouted.

Her remaining companions turned back as well, gasping and panting as they ran, the reach of the storm right at their tails.

“What?” Applejack yelled. “What happened?”

“It... got... Rainbow and Nova and Fluttershy!” Twilight managed between gasps.  A bolt of lightning shot into the ground just behind her, and suddenly the screech of the storm was gone, replaced by a low and droning buzz that thrashed through her skull like a trapped animal.  She could feel her charged coat raise from the static.

Rarity was shouting something to her.  She could see her mouth moving, but the ringing drowned out the words.  “WHAT?” Twilight yelled.

“I SAID USE MAGIC!”

“There is none!”

“CELESTIA’S VIAL!”

Oh yeah! Twilight thought.  I forgot about that!  She fumbled open her saddlebag with her mouth.  Two sandwiches and a book whizzed past her face, sucked away into the storm.  For a terrifying moment, she thought the vial had gone with them, but then she felt it against her nose, and grabbed it in her mouth.  As she maneuvered the top open with her tongue, she saw Pinkie fall behind, slowing to a trot and gasping for air.

“You... go on!” Pinkie shouted.  “Sugar reserves... empty!”  Then she disappeared into the rampant and blistering storm.

The lid finally screwed open into Twilight’s mouth, and she tilted her head back and took a small sip of the liquid.  Immediately she felt energized, like she could outrun the storm while levitating a schoolhouse.  Oh, yeah!  I’m back!  With a wonderfully fresh burst of magic, she screwed the lid back on the vial (careful not to allow her magic to touch the liquid itself—she didn’t want to blow up all of Equestria) and then dropped it back into her bag.  Suddenly, the storm hardly felt like a threat.  She could take on a team of Discord and Chrysalis and Nightmare Moon if she wanted to, it seemed.

“A simple weather spell should do the trick, I think,” she said, no longer gasping for breath.  With a grin, her horn flashed a deep purple, and then let loose a luminous violet cone that grew larger and larger until it was a great cyclone in the sky, rivaling the monstrous storm.  The storm’s red blotches grew wide with surprise, then were compressed and sucked into the cone like strands of spaghetti, along with the rest of the enormous cell.  Seconds later, the sky was clear, without the trace of a single cloud.  The sun was back, not as a ruthless deathray, but as Celestia’s normal, life-giving star.

Applejack and Rarity slowed to a stop, turning to join Twilight, gasping and wheezing.

“That... was... great!” Rarity said, choking out the words.  “Where’re... the others?”

“I’m right here,” said Pinkie.  They turned in surprise.  Indeed, there was Pinkie, just a short way away, mane somehow even messier than ever—it stuck out in all directions, like she had been struck by lightning.  “That was so cool Twilight!  First I was in the storm because I was tired of running and then it swept me off my hooves and I was flying around in the air and I think I saw a witch on a broomstick but maybe that was just in a book I read—”

Rarity gasped.  “Pinkie!  Your tail!”

“Huh?  What about my AHH!”  She had turned to look, and saw that there was nothing where her tail used to be.  “The storm must have pulled it out!  So that’s what hurt so much!  One second.”  She jammed a hoof into her mouth, and her face turned bright red as she blew into it like she would a balloon.  Somehow her entire body puffed up from the pressure, and then, with a pomp!, a tail sprang out of her flank, identical to the old one.  “Good as new!”

Applejack’s jaw dropped.  “How... did you...”

Pinkie frowned.  “Enough chitchat!  Where’s Nova and Dashie and Fluttershy?”

“The storm lifted them away,” Twilight said.  “They should be fine, since it’s gone now and they can fly and—” her face fell.  “Wait... Nova can’t fly...  Oh, no!”

“Oh, don’t worry, Twilight,” Rarity said.  “Dash is very good at saving ponies who are falling.”

“Yeah!” Applejack chimed in.  “And, hey, didn’t Nova arrive here in the first place by falling from the sky?”

“Huh,” Twilight said, rubbing her chin.  “That’s actually a really good point.  You guys are right—they’ll probably be fine.  But,” she turned in a circle, searching the endless field in every direction, “where are they?”

***

“Uggggh,” Dash groaned, groggily rubbing her face.  “What happened?”

“There was a storm and it sucked us in and sent us flying.  We landed pretty far apart, but I could see you lying on the ground, so I came and met up with you.”

“I know all that, Fluttershy.”

“Oh.  Well then why did you ask?”

“Force of habit, I guess.  Where’s Nova?”

Fluttershy looked around, surprised.  They had been blown so far across the nearly endless field that she could see the edge of a forest in the distance.  But no sign of a golden mare.  “You didn’t see her land nearby?”

Dash got to her hooves, carefully brushing her feathers off.  “No, I thought she blew off with you.”

“Fluttershyyyyyyyyy....!” came a distant voice, carried by the wind.

“Dash!” Fluttershy gasped.  “Did you hear that?”

“Fluttershy, Applejaaaaaack....!”

“There it is again,” Dash said.  “It’s coming from that forest in the distance.  Let’s go!”

Somehow, Fluttershy managed to keep up with Dash’s rapid speed, and soon they were at the edge of the forest.

“Nova?” Fluttershy called out.  “Nova, can you hear me?”  Even when yelling, her timid voice was eclipsed by the wind and the forest ambiance.

“Let me try,” Dash said.  She took a deep breath.  “NOVAAAAAA!  You there?”  The treeline exploded into feathered flight.

Soon after came a response: “I’m over here!”

They found her in a tree, hanging on tightly to a branch that seemed hardly thick enough to carry her weight.

“Fluttershy!  Dash!  Thanks for finding me!  Could you, um, help me down?”

The pegasi flew up to her, and she held on to them both as they lowered her back down to the ground.

“Thanks,” she said, appreciating the earth against her hooves.  She had been hanging on to that branch for over twenty minutes.  “I’m okay.  The trees broke my fall... mostly.  I’m fine.”

Dash gave her a pat on the back and grinned.  “Well, it’s good to have you back, kid.  But we’ve still got a problem: we’re here, and the others aren’t.”

“Oh, I’m so worried,” Fluttershy said.  “What if the storm got them?”

Dash rolled her eyes.  “Fluttershy, the storm got us.  And we’re fine.  Except for Nova being stuck in a tree.”

Fluttershy kicked at the ground anxiously.  “Why don’t you fly ahead and look for them?  Then come and get us when you’ve found them.”

Rainbow squinted into the distance.  Green—endless green, as far as the eye could see.  The hills rippled and rolled in mesmerizing patterns, with no end in sight—and no ponies in sight.  “Fluttershy, this field is huge.  I could fly a mile up and still not see the other end of it.  There’s no way they’d see me, especially since it’s getting... dark.”

“What?” Fluttershy asked; Dash was grinning cunningly and staring at Nova, who shifted uneasily.

“I think I just had an idea.”

“Why don’t you just send up a flare, Twi’?  That’s how Ah found you when Ah was lost the time Fluttershy’s rose shard led me astray.”

“Because, AJ,” Twilight said, collapsing onto the ground in defeat, “I used up all my magic with the weather spell, and Celestia’s vial only holds so much.  I don’t want to waste any more unless we absolutely have to.”

“It wouldn’t be wasting it, though, would it, Twilight?”  Rarity said, finding a soft and clean patch of grass upon which to sit herself next to the betrodden unicorn.  “Celestia gave it to you for use in emergencies, and we’ve lost Dash and Fluttershy and Nova... isn’t that an emergency?”

“I don’t think you should waste any more,” Pinkie said.

Rarity and Applejack turned to her in surprise.  “Pinkie, Ah would have expected just the opposite from you.  Don’t you want to see the rest of our friends again?”

Pinkie gaped at them both.  “Well, duh.  But we’ll see them again.  Probably within the next few minutes.  I’d bet Sugarcube Corner on it!  But Mrs. Cake said I’m not allowed to bet anymore on account of losing their refrigerator.”

Twilight suddenly looked up.  “Pinkie, do you really think they’ll turn up?”

Pinkie smiled and nodded fervently.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Twilight said, putting the shimmering vial back in her knapsack.

Rarity and Applejack shared a glance of absolute confusion.

“Twilight, you cannot be serious!” Rarity pleaded.  “Pinkie has no idea what she’s talking about.  Our friends are missing, the sun has gone down, and it’s starting to get cold.  Just take a sip from the vial and send up a flare!”

Twilight frowned and shook her head.  “I trust Pinkie.  Let’s wait a few minutes.”

In one fluid motion, Pinkie crossed her front hooves and leaned against Twilight, staring back at the other two with an expression of merry victory.  “Yeah!  I wouldn’t lie, or my name ain’t Pinkie Pie!  And my name is Pinkie Pie!  Modus ponens, sisters!”

Rarity sighed.  What a day.  First it had been cold, then blisteringly hot—she had even sweat a little—then a cloud monster had eaten three of her friends, and now Pinkie was talking in gibberish.  “Fine, then.  But only a few minutes.”

They sat in silence.

“Granny Smith gave me that hat,” Applejack said suddenly.  “It was Pa’s.”

She had never told her friends that before.  Maybe they had guessed it, since she took it with her everywhere and had a habit of hugging it in times of distress, but it had never been said aloud.  Her friends were sympathetic enough to never bring it up.  Twilight was about to share words of comfort—We’ll find it, it can’t have flown far—when Pinkie Pie jumped up like a loaded spring.

“Look!” she said.  “It’s them!”

They all got up as well, and looked around madly.

“Where?” Rarity said.  “I don’t see anything!  The hill does sort of look like Rainbow Dash, though.”

“You’re looking the wrong way!  Look up!”

At first, the sky seemed just the same as always: a glorious matrix of stars of all different sizes, each pulsing and twinkling to its own rhythm.  Soon, however, it became clear that one star was brighter than the rest.

Applejack squinted.  “Is that...”

“...Dash?  Fluttershy?  Nova?” Rarity finished.

It was like one of the billions of stars in the sky had broken free, and was moving toward them at an undeterminable speed.  It traced through the sky like a shooting star in slow motion, and when Twilight squinted, she saw that it was Nova, held aloft by Dash and Fluttershy, the former of which was wearing a familiar hat.  They each grasped one of her front legs; she dangled beneath them.

The sight was both ridiculous and beautiful.  Twilight could see Fluttershy was straining to keep up with Dash.  They kept growing nearer, and eventually Twilight could see Nova’s face.  She was beaming.

“She really does glow!”  Applejack said.  “You weren’t kiddin’, Rarity!  And... oh goodness, is that my hat?”

“Wooooow,” was all Pinkie could manage.

They kept watching, and then suddenly the two pegasi and their glowing friend were directly above them... and then suddenly they were past them.

“They’re... not stopping.  They didn’t see us!” Twilight said.  She started to run in their direction, following their path through the sky.  “Waaaaaait!  Stop, we’re down heeeeeere!”

Two minutes later they were all together once more, giddy with the excitement of a foe defeated, alive with the idea that they could surmount any obstacle.

“That was amazing!” Nova breathed, glancing to the sky, like she wished she was still up there.

“Yeah,” Dash said matter-of-factly, “flying is pretty neat.”  She took off the big hat and planted it firmly on Applejack’s head where it belonged.

“You found my hat!  I can’t thank you enough!  Oh man, Ah’m so glad y’all are okay!  That storm sure was something, wasn’t it?  And boy howdy, Nova... you’re beaming like a lantern!”

“You’re like a birthday candle, or a glowy-bug!”

“Hmm,” Twilight said.  When Dash and Fluttershy had slowly lowered her to the ground, Nova had been ecstatic, vivacious.  She had nearly danced with excitement, staring longingly at the sky and glowing harder than ever.  Twilight suspected that was the old Nova showing through, the one from before the amnesia; now, with her six new friends surrounding her, admiring her golden aura in wonder, she became submerged again, shyly bowing her head, as reticent as ever.

And Twilight noticed something else, too.  It had bothered her before because, if it were true, it meant she was wrong.  And she hated being wrong.  But being wrong was a very important step to being right, and so she made a quick note of it in her head—something about the way Nova was glowing...

“Can we stop here for tonight?” Rarity asked with a yawn.  “All this adventuring is making me tired.”  She reached into her knapsack and pulled out a miniature tent, like an incredibly ornate prop for a tiny doll.  She pushed in the flag at the top with a click, and immediately it began to expand.  A few seconds later Rarity was stepping into her tent and zipping the entrance shut behind her.

“Well, I guess it’s unanimous, then,” Dash said sarcastically, grinning at the tent.  “Her Majesty wishes to stop,” she yawned, “so I suppose stop we shall.”

“I heard that!” the tent said.

That night they slept in the soft grass beneath the stars.  At some point Rarity peeked out of her tent, saw her friends resting peacefully beside one another, and quietly joined them.  Within moments she was asleep as well, and that’s how they remained until sunrise.

Nova glowed the entire time.

***

In the City of Dressage, the day crept along.  Unicorns wandered the cobbled streets listlessly, heads down, under the watchful eyes of the King’s postponies.  Nopony spoke, nopony ran.  Eye contact was rare, not because the unicorns were shy or antisocial, but because staring into the eyes of a fellow unicorn in the street was like looking in a mirror: is this what has become of us, is this really what we are now?

Nopony could acknowledge that awful truth, and so they crept along, seeming to move as slowly as the sun across the sky.

It was another day in Dressage, and nopony laughed, nopony smiled.

A young colt leaned against a flag post that hoisted the King’s red seal, eyes glazed and half shut.  Nopony helped him, because nopony wanted to be on the King’s list—and besides, nopony could provide what it was he needed, nopony could bring his father back.

In the stone district, unsurprised eyes peered from behind curtains as an elderly stallion was dragged away by two young guards.  He kicked and struggled, but didn’t scream.  Like he knew there was no point.

In the schoolhouse, a young bespectacled mare methodically tore pages from the large red textbooks she had been given by a royal representative.  She would not teach their propaganda for them, could not preach to her young students that the King was wise, the King was their leader, the King was the keeper of order and peace.  She looked up, seeking reassurance.  On her desk stood Aura Augury, smiling sagely, a little statue she wasn’t supposed to have but kept anyway, and she pulled out another page with vigor.  They’d come for her when they found out, she knew.  But with every lie she tore apart she felt better and knew it was right.

And in number Two Oh One, the home behind the mailbox with the rose etched into its side, a young stallion stood in the living room, mouth hung open and eyes wide.

“Sergeant?” he said.  “Sergeant, get up!”  Only then did he notice the girl in the room with him, who likewise stood gaping at the motionless figure of Sgt. Boots.  “You killed him.  You killed him!”  Suddenly he became frightened, and backed up in terror, then trampled over the broken-down door and fled into the streets.  “Help!  Guards, the Sergeant was killed!”

Alone now, the golden mare remained deathly still, seeing but not understanding, remembering but not believing.