I sense something different about you now, Jacob. Something separate from this... infestation of your link. What happened?

“It was....” He needed a moment to organize his thoughts. “There was... a celebration, where the two of you gave me and a friend of mine a medal. And then there was... singing....”

Ahhh. There was a strange feeling, almost like a combination of laughter and an embrace. You have been touched by the magic of friendship.

Indeed he has. There is nothing like it where you are from, Jacob?

“No. We don't have magic of any kind.”

My goodness. You must have had the most difficult time adjusting to our world!

So that is why your realm felt so alien! A sapient species in a world without magic... it is difficult to comprehend. Sister, the things we could learn from them....

“Princesses... I don't mean to be rude, but I've got a lot to tell you both and I'm not sure we have a lot of time.”

You are correct, of course. Please, share with us what you have learned.

“Let me see if I can show you this properly....” It took some effort, but he was able to “project” the map he had constructed of the symbols and their locations. He could actually feel the surprise of the sisters. This... this is most useful! Sister, look at this... do you see what this shape could form?

It is rough, but yes, I see three... no, two possible runeforms. But it is impossible to determine which. Jacob, are you certain these are all that were placed?

“Actually, I'm thinking they aren't, and that brings me to a second point. I think I've found the unicorn who placed them.”

Whom?

“I don't have full ID yet, but she's a blue-coated mare with a white mane. I haven't gotten close enough to her to get anything else. But she was watching me during the ceremony, and the way she was looking at me was like I was her mortal enemy. I guess there's an off-chance that she's someone Story knew before I got here, but there's more that connects her to all of this.”

We are listening.

“I overheard her arguing with an employee of a hardware store. She was angry about a late delivery of two things- something called arcanocite solution, and silver nitrate. I think she may have run out before she finished whatever she's putting together here.”

There was a pregnant pause. You... you are sure of this, Jacob? Those materials are what the mare sought?

“About as sure as I can be. I'm not a chemist, and I have no idea what arcanocite even is.”

Arcanocite is a magical conductor; in solutions, it can be “painted” onto surfaces to serve as a temporary conduit. It degrades quickly in this form, though, and so is used for only short-term applications.

“And... does the nitrate change that?”

It does. It forms an exceptionally strong bond with the arcanocite crystals within the solution, granting it near permanence once the mixture dries. If our opponent sought to prevent the disruption of these symbols before their use, she could not have chosen better. But this method is seldom used.

“Why's that?”

In liquid form, the mixture emits a vapor that is extremely hazardous. It is known to cause paranoia, sociopathy and even psychosis in cases of extended exposure. Due to its properties, it cannot be manipulated by magic at any safe distance, and even the most stringent safety measures place ponies at risk of exposure.

“So if our mystery mare has been running around with buckets of that stuff painting up the streets at night... there's a good chance she's gone crazy by now, isn't there?”

It is unfortunately possible. At the very least she could be delusional, schizoaffected... if she has had enough exposure, she could even be violent. Perhaps this explains her reaction to you.

“Yeah, but... it's just too specific to be pure chance. I'm convinced she somehow knows I'm different, that I'm out to stop her.”

We cannot rule that out. What plans have you?

“Our crazy unicorn placed orders with two different stores, and asked for delivery. That means they had a record of where she was staying. If I can find that, I can look for anything she might have left behind- plans, a map, notes on whatever magic she's using. You can't pull something like this off on the fly, and if she was killed along with everyone else, she might not have had a chance to destroy or hide all of her reference materials.”

A sound plan. With a complete listing of the marks she has made and their locations, we can tell you exactly what the effect of the runeform will be- and how to stop it. There is one who will be most capable to help you, a unicorn by the name of Twilight Sparkle-

“I've met her.”

Excellent! She is- was- perhaps the most powerful unicorn of her era; once she knows of the threat, she will have the greatest chance of researching and implementing a countermeasure. But you will need to get word to her as soon as possible.

“Sure, but what am I going to tell her? That I'm an alien masquerading as a pony to stop the destruction of all higher life on her world? She'd have to be huffing that mixture for a week to believe that.”

I taught my student a very specialized set of codes in case we were unable to communicate directly in times of urgency; anypony given one of the codes can be considered a trustworthy intermediary. When you see her next, you must tell her that her Princess wishes her the most glorious sunrise next morn. Those exact words must be used, Jacob. Can you remember them?

“ 'Your Princess wishes you the most glorious sunrise next morn'. Yeah, I think I've got it.”

Excellent. But even with that, explanation may take too long. I would ask one more thing of you, Jacob, above and beyond even all you have done for us and all of ponykind so far.

“Well... you already gave me a medal for going above and beyond the call, I suppose I might as well earn it.”

You have already, even if you do not believe so. But Twilight Sparkle has learned a memory-recall spell, one that can bring up even the most buried or forgotten memories. What she must do, in order to gain understanding of the situation quickly, is modify the spell to provide a neuromantic link- so that she can perceive the memories as well.

“So essentially I'm going to be asking her to read my mind.”

In so many words, yes. I understand what I ask of you, Jacob. But Twilight must see what you have seen, know what you have learned. Words alone are too imprecise, too undependable, for this critical task. And she must have your unconditional consent, Jacob- elsewise the spell will not work. Can you do this?

He had to think about it... but only for a moment. “Hell, I'm already okay with putting my life on the line; this makes too much sense to refuse.”

Immediately he felt an overwhelming yet gentle sensation- as if he were being hugged mentally by both sisters. Your appearance here was an absolute boon to us, Jacob. Your bravery and determination in service to a land and a species not your own speaks of compassion unparalleled. Our little ponies could not ask for a better champion for their cause.

“I... I think by now, I feel like... they're my little ponies, too.” He sighed, or at least whatever analog existed here. “It's... even if you said I could go home this minute with no strings attached, I don't think I could turn my back on them now. I wouldn't be able to live with myself.”

You care for them so completely?

“Honestly? Yeah. Yeah, I do. They're just... all of you... you're too amazing for me to just let you all die off like that.”

...it is no wonder you were so affected by the magic of friendship. You truly have an open and sympathetic heart with which to receive it. Again the feeling of being embraced twice over surrounded him.

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled after a moment. “I appreciate the flattery, but I've still got work to do. I can't believe I'm actually eager to go back there, but....”

...it is a desolate and dangerous place you return to, we know. Please be careful, Jacob. Not only for our sakes- but because you are a dear friend to us.

“I'm in this to win it. I'll be as careful as I possibly can, I promise.”

Then... until we see you again, go with our blessings.

(-)

thump thump thump thump thump

His shoes beat out a quiet, steady rhythm as he ran. What a difference two days had made- whereas his first foray into abandoned Canterlot had been fearful and furtive, now he had a destination in mind and knew exactly how to get there- and how to get around whatever might be in his way. That surety didn't stop him from keeping both eyes open and his head on a swivel, watching for any threats; he knew the place hadn't gotten any safer since last night... but he was most definitely working against the clock, and mission failure meant doom just as much as getting eaten by something large, mythical and hostile.

There was also the matter of the enormous-looking storm building up towards the northwest, which seemed to be hell-bent on invading Canterlot's airspace and looked like it would accomplish its mission before midnight. Knowing what he knew now about how weather was supposed to work in Equestria, a storm of that size was not something he'd want to be outside to play in.

Okay, here we are, 22nd and Gallop... aw, hell.

Soluble Solutions was... well, a wash. The building behind it had collapsed directly onto it, and now the chemical supply shop was spread halfway across the road, leaving everything that had once been within it buried under stone and plaster and timber; the chances of finding anything useful underneath all of it within his time constraints was nil. On to the other store... I guess along the way I can pray that it's still standing.

The wind seemed to pick up a bit as he backtracked, but the makeshift cloak he'd rigged up out of some midnight-black fabric from the clothing store- along with the extra fabric he'd wrapped around himself in vulnerable spots- did a fair job of retaining his body's warmth.

tik-tik-thunk

He froze for just a moment, then ducked behind a wall, glancing around it towards the way he'd just come. While the timberwolves were practically silent compared to him, they weren't noiseless, and the half-dozen number of the pack he'd run into twice already would have to travel even slower than him to not make enough of a ruckus for him to pick up on if he were alert. Seeing and hearing nothing suspicious, he resumed his trek.

Buildings flashed by as he sprinted, moving from shadow to shadow, stopping for breath only near places that would serve as a place to hide should something approach him. It was during one of these stops that he realized he'd hit a stroke of luck- the jewelry store he was standing next to had a second floor with windows; if his reckoning was true, it would have a nearly unimpeded view of the hardware store he was looking for.

He deliberately avoided looking at the pictures that hung along the wall of the staircase- he didn't want to see any familiar faces behind the dust-caked glass panes- as he made his way up to the second floor. The closest room facing where he needed to go was the bathroom, which fortunately had two windows to choose from, one on each outside-facing wall; he picked the one with a better vantage point and pulled it open, facing only slight resistance from the window frame. “Perfect,” he whispered to himself, pulling up his camera.

3X optical zoom was enough to give him a fair view of the area around what appeared to be Constructive Thinking Hardware. Aside from a partly-demolished wall, the building itself seemed sound, at least from the outside. Great, my luck is in. Chances are decent that I'll find something useful inside. I may have enough now for Twilight to work with, but we'll be on the clock from the moment I wake up- the ceremony starts at 8PM, which gives me twelve hours from when First should be waking me up. Everything I can give Twi to speed up the process is a bonus- I'm not looking to see how close we can cut it!

Everything seemed clear around the area, so he quickly stowed his camera, rushed back out of the building and made a beeline for the hardware store. He made it inside unmolested and apparently unseen, if his half-minute of watching for pursuit without incident was any indication. Once he'd caught his breath, he began a quick search of the building for anywhere he'd be the most likely to find customer records.

There was what he was looking for- the manager's office, complete with “authorized ponynell only” sign. It opened easily enough for him, and stale air rushed past him as he stepped inside; inside was an absolute mess, with papers, bags, folders and other items scattered around- but none of it had been disturbed in ages. Obviously the manager was a slob, he thought with a silent chuckle. Okay. Customer records. Come out, come out, wherever you are....

As quickly as he could, he rifled through the desk and filing cabinets, cursing whoever ran this place for his, her or its inability to alphabetize, or even follow a loose kind of logic in filing forms. Old inventories, pay stubs... what the hell, was this a banana? Eugh... wait! What have we got here? Customer records! He spent a moment gathering all the folders he could find marked as customer info, until he had a tall stack of grey folders sitting on the desk. Damn, this is a lot... better settle in and get through this.

He managed to squeeze himself into the office chair and began skimming through each page, eyes flicking back and forth as he looked for any mention of silver nitrate or arcanocite solution. No, no, no, no... I won't even ask what that stuff is, no, no, n- wait! He'd almost tossed aside another sheet when his eye caught the word “arcanocite”. Okay, we've got that solution and the nitrate on this one... put that aside, check all the others. I need to make sure I'm not following a false lead with someone who just so happened to have an order for these things in.

It was a long slog through the rest of the paperwork, some of which seemed to be stuck together with various remnants of food, but eventually he hit the end of the pile with nothing more matching his criteria. He quickly brushed all of the other papers off of the desk and pulled his one match over so that he could read it carefully. Let's see... order #22138, 0.5 gal. arcanocite solution 4%, 1 gal. silver nitrate, order date whatever, customer name... scratched out?! Oh, what the hell- wait. There's still the address... room number 713 in the Golden Trails Inn? Where First is- was- staying? They have a ledger at their front desk- I'll be able to track down whoever had the room from that!

Something was scribbled at the bottom of the order form- “Nutty as a fruitcake, possibly dangerous, almost attacked delivery mare- never accept orders from her again”. It seemed that the sisters had been right about the deleterious effects of the mixture. Well, I've got my lead and maybe the last piece of this puzzle, he thought as he stood, rolling up the aged sheet of paper and tucking it away in his jacket. I'm tracking you down, Psycho Mare, and you can't stop me.

A quick look around showed that the coast seemed clear, so he quickly left the shop- and then paused. He realized that he wasn't far from the symbol where he'd overheard that conversation between the shop employee and the mare, and it would be worthwhile to have a second look at the spot to see how, if at all, it had changed.

But he was going to be smart about it. The back of the picture-frame shop had faced the next street over, and there were several buildings he could choose from in order to gain a good vantage point. A careful approach got him to them unharmed; the furthest building down was half-gone, and the middle was leaning on what remained, but the closest structure seemed relatively sound... and had what looked to be an accessible rooftop, all the better for safe surveillance. The building hardly creaked at all as he made his way to the roof and found himself amongst a long-dead miniature garden; the brown stalks and branches sticking out of various planters made for a paltry but not-unwelcome form of camouflage as he approached the edge of the retaining wall, camera in hand.

There it is. The viewfinder brought the symbol into clear, crisp view- only instead of the glittering silver color it had been when he'd last seen it, it was now a matte black, surrounded by what looked like scorch marks. He made sure that the camera's flash was off and snapped a picture of it. Just in case, he thought.

He was just about to rise to his feet when he caught motion at the edge of the camera's view. His movement and his breathing both halted, and even his heart seemed to join in for a moment, as he realized that the pack of timberwolves he'd surprised yesterday was in the street just beyond the building. He could see them with almost perfect clarity through the lens of his camera- stalking along the road in a staggered formation, with what he'd guessed to be the alpha of the pack at point.

So intent on watching them was Jacob that he almost missed a strange, black smoke beginning to rise from the scorched symbol near the picture-frame store. The alpha, however, picked up on it almost immediately- and began to growl, taking up a defensive stance. The others of its pack reacted much more fearfully, backing away from the sight with tails tucked away.

There was an instant of motion- something dark, unidentifiable, yet bone-chillingly disturbing flashed out from the circle towards the alpha timberwolf. The creature immediately yelped and jerked away, crashing to the ground in what seemed to be a seizure of some kind, spasming and twitching on the street as the rest of its pack gathered around in confusion.

Jacob grimaced at the sound of something popping and snapping, as the timberwolf whined in agony. Parts of its body began to warp, bend, even break- as though some invisible hand were attempting to remold its very shape and being none-too-gentle in the process. Sap and other unidentifiable fluids spilled out from its body as the pitiable yelps it made grew louder and deeper, while its compatriots looked on in obvious fear.

He was barely aware that he was taking pictures of the event, his finger reflexively pressing down on the shutter button every time some new change wracked the timberwolf's form; it was only in passing that he noticed the creature's coloration darkening with each twitch and spasm, until it was almost uniformly a dusky black.

Eventually whatever was happening ran its course, and the beast- now at least one-quarter larger than before- staggered up out of the pool of its own fluids it had been lying in. Cautiously, one of its packmates creeped up towards it, ears and tail flicking in confusion. It made a movement to touch its snout to its leader's-

crunch snap-crack CRACK

-and in one smooth motion, the alpha dipped its head beneath the other timberwolf's, bit into its throat within fangs much larger than before, and pulled. The smaller creature's head tore off with a sickening noise, its expression frozen in shock, as its body began to jerk and stumble before falling over, ichor pouring from the stump of its neck as it twitched madly.

The rest of the pack fled, some whimpering or baying in fear as they headed for the hills as fast as they could. The corrupted alpha stood motionless for just a moment, looking down at the corpse it had just created- then, slowly, its head turned, until it was staring up at him. Jacob felt the blood practically freeze in his veins- even despite the distance and the sense of separation that the camera's viewfinder provided, the gaze of the wicked, glistening-black eyes that had replaced the creature's glowing yellow-green orbs seemed to burn right through him. I know you're there, the gaze seemed to say, and you will succumb to me.

Then, without any sort of preamble, it spun and ran off, leaving Jacob feeling as though his soul had been bathed in filthy ice water. He glanced down at the LED screen of the camera to see that he'd unthinkingly snapped a picture of the creature's face, capturing those horrible eyes for posterity. Despite wanting more than anything to delete every last image of the thing, he forced himself to leave them be- it was entirely possible that he'd gotten yet more evidence that Twilight Sparkle could use. Assuming, of course, that she'll be able to see them with her memory spell- but I can't see why she wouldn't be able to.

The camera went into his backpack, wedged between spare layers of fabric- he had no more intention on using it tonight, and didn't need it hindering his movements or getting damaged somehow- and he carefully made his way back down to the street. The corrupted timberwolf was nowhere to be seen, but he wasn't taking that for granted- he just knew the damn thing was aware of his presence, and he was absolutely certain that he was on its menu.

A roiling stench hit his nose almost the moment he stepped outside. The slain timberwolf's body was already beginning to rot from the neck down, parts of its anatomy decaying even as he watched; the thing's head was barely more than a fetid smear of black goop covering some branches and leaves. He stopped in mid-step as realization hit him. Black goop? Like the stuff that was on the piece of rock that hit me? Fuck... I think I know what I'm up against. Whatever spell or power Miss Crazy was using to corrode things must have formed a connection to the runes she painted- it's living in them somehow, and it infested that timberwolf- and now it's controlling that thing like....

Like a puppet. An avatar.

tap tap tap taptaptaptaptap

Droplets of freezing rain began to strike the ground around him, some of them hitting the rot consuming the corpse and sizzling before evaporating away; only the bizarre rules of reality Equestria ran on could explain how it hadn't frozen into snow. Jacob's mind continued to work even as he ran for cover. Supposition: I'm up against some kind of living force of nature, a decay spell gone sentient somehow, or maybe some type of creature that feeds on entropy and destruction. Miss Crazy has been painting these runes to... contain it? Channel it? Summon it? It's also likely that- dammit, that rain is seriously starting to come down, and me without my umbrella- that whatever the Princesses said infested my link to the Ethereal Realm and to Story is linked to that corruptive energy the mare was using- and, therefore, to whatever infested the timberwolf. Does that mean that it'll be able to track me through that infestation?

If that's the case, evasion takes second place to finding a safe place to hide. And I know just where to hole up.

By some miracle he was managing to stay just ahead of the main downpour as he ran, and by the time he reached the Golden Trails Inn, he was merely soaked instead of sopping wet; the difference was enough of one for him to be happy with it, and it was with a faint sense of accomplishment that he stormed into the building and proceeded to barricade the front doors with everything within reach.

By the time he was finished, the outside of the building was just as lightless as inside, and the beat of rain against the walls was a low, steady roar. There, he thought, taking a moment to catch his breath and try to wring himself dry. Now. If our little wood-pup hunts by scent, he'll have a hell of a time finding me in this downpour- but if he's got other ways to track me, all I've done is buy myself some time. Best not to dawdle.

Flashes of lightning threw bizarre white shapes across the main entrance, competing with the sharp-edged circle of his flashlight's beam to illuminate the area. The inside of the building itself seemed exceptionally intact, save for broken plaster and fallen pictures; the front desk looked almost like it was ready to serve lodgers once more, waiting only for a good cleaning and an attentive clerk. Jacob couldn't avoid the feeling of deja vu brought from walking through the once-lively hall again, but he didn't let it slow him down, making his way to the desk.

It seemed that his guesses were right. The last entries in the ledger were only a few hours before the Renewal ceremony; probably almost everyone in the city who could go to see it had done so. And that's when it all ended, he thought sullenly, brushing away some of the dust with his hand, then turning back a page when he didn't find what he was looking for. Here we go. 713... rented to a T. Lulamoon, one day before I got here. No departure date listed.

He was about to leave when something else caught his eye. F. Response, room 509. Also no departure date listed. She had such neat writing for an earth pony.... He closed his eyes for a moment. No, Jake. You're here to stop her death, not mourn it. And you can't do that if you sit here and go all sad-panda. Now. Stairs. Room 713. Get moving.

His already-aching legs protested the long climb up the entirely too-thin stairs, but he ignored them. The seventh floor welcomed him with dust and utter darkness; carts were scattered around, a couple of them carrying trays or linens, and a broken window let in the occasional gust of wind but- thankfully- none of the rain. The lightning was getting more frequent now, and the thunder louder. I really don't want to have to go out in that mess if I can avoid it, he thought, playing the flashlight along the row of doors as he walked. Let's see. 721, 719... on and on we go... ah. 713.

Getting in wasn't going to be much of a problem- water damage of some sort had wiped out a sizable amount of the drywall next to the door of the room. Everything inside, however, looked remarkably intact. Thank God for that, he thought, stepping into the room and taking a moment to fish out a piece of linen from his backpack to clean his glasses. Okay, Detective Columbo, let's get to investigating.

The inside was an absolute mess in a way that suggested that had been the case even before the mass extinction of the tenant's species. Papers were scattered everywhere, a pile of empty buckets lay in a corner, books had been left open or stacked on each other while sporting multiple bookmarks, and the bed looked like it hadn't been made in a week- apparently this T. Lulamoon had requested no room service.

As quickly as he could, he gathered up everything that looked even marginally important or informative into one pile on the bedstand, then shook as much dust as he could from the blanket, spread it out, took off his backpack and sat himself down on the bed. It felt almost luxurious to be resting on an actual mattress in his own body, but he couldn't afford to simply lie back and enjoy it- so he set his flashlight on the bedstand facing up towards the ceiling and got to reading.

The first thing he learned is that the note on the order sheet had been right- this mare was certifiably insane. Lining notes on spell preparation, runeforms of various spells, and other careful notations were scribbles about getting revenge for some injustice visited on her in Ponyville, rants against Twilight Sparkle and exultations of her future glory once she'd “showed everypony” what she could do. Again, he made sure to take detailed pictures of anything that might be useful for Twilight, but so far he hadn't found anything related to the runeform the mare had painted across the city.

He paused for a stretch and accidentally jostled the bedstand, making his flashlight fall over and roll into a partly-open drawer he hadn't noticed before. Cursing quietly to himself, he pulled the drawer fully open- only to find the flashlight illuminating a thick, well-worn journal of some sort. “Hello, what have we got here?” he murmured, fishing it out along with his light, then flipping the diary open to the first page. “Property of the Great and Powerful Trixie... oh, aren't you precious. Let's see what you've got to say for yourself.”

The opening pages were fairly pedestrian, journaling the trials and travails of a traveling showpony. But a third of the way in, the writing became more erratic, starting at the mention of a “humiliation” in Ponyville that had ended with the destruction of her wagon; her journal had been one of the few things to survive, and she had been forced to retrieve it under cover of darkness. Entry after entry raged about what had happened, the hardships she had to endure to get back on her hooves, the unmitigated gall of one purple unicorn to show her up so effortlessly.

Then the writing became neat again. Trixie had found... something; her entries didn't go into much detail about its exact nature, but the constant references to it seemed as though she'd found some new source of power, one that could amplify her own to previously unheard-of levels. Each entry after that was more grandiose than the last in how this newfound power could be used to prove to the world just how great and powerful she truly was.

After a short entry about obtaining arcanocite and silver nitrate to craft a runecircle in which she could store and amplify her magical power for some grand ritual, the writing began to get more and more sloppy, devolving into weeks of nothing but ranting against everyone she could name for being “against” her and anticipating the culmination of her ritual.

Then, in the middle of an otherwise blank page, a single line in tiny script, obviously written in a rush:

“oh sweet celestia what have i unleashed it wants to consume me somepony HELP ME PLEASE”

Every entry after that looked like it might have been written by a different mare. Paranoia was replaced by abject hate; the ranting had turned into detailed screeds against almost everything around her for the most meaningless slight or inconvenience, and more and more words were dedicated to describing her own oncoming greatness and due recognition.

Then, the last entry, dated at 3AM of the day of the Renewal: “All is finally in place. Equestria will know my greatness when they look upon the sun and the moon every day and night until the end of time.”

All the pages beyond that were blank. As he was checking for any more entries, two folded pieces of paper slipped out from behind the back cover. Carefully, he unfolded the brittle pages and laid them out on the bed... and then smiled, picking up his camera. “Jackpot,” he murmured, taking a snapshot of each page- one a detailed map of the city with inked-in locations for each shape, and the other a much older parchment with an exceptionally detailed runecircle whose purpose he couldn't even guess at. Doesn't matter. More brain-fodder for Twilight.

He was just standing up to leave the room when a flash of pain across his side made him wince. Agh, did I aggravate it? he wondered, rubbing at the wound across his side- only to pause as a wet, sticky feeling came through his shirt. In a moment, he pulled the garment up and brought his flashlight to his side.

Despite the wound being nearly healed, a thin line of blood was oozing from it. How the hell did I open it just standing like that? he wondered. Did I aggravate it from all the running, or-

crash

A deep thud came from somewhere in the building below him, heavy enough to shake a bit of dust from the overhead light. Realization clicked in Jacob's mind.

Oh, hello, wolfie. I see you've come to catch up with me. I was wondering where you'd gotten to.