“They’ve escaped.” It was a wave of relief for the three around Amon.

“They did?” Sweetie Belle reaffirmed hopefully, her grin nearly splitting her face. Her little hooves gripped Chrona’s arm in anticipation. The boy hugged her back as well, keeping the small filly against him.

“Yes,” the masked man replied, his tone deep. “The silver-haired boy and the alicorn have made their way from the cavern. It is strange, however.” Amon raised his hand to the chin of his mask, holding the chin-point in thought.

“What’s off?” Maya asked from beside him. She leaned her weight to one side, hoping to get a better view of the man. She felt like a fool when she realized that even the best view was still a placid mask.

“They were fighting against… something; of what I do not know.” Amon answered as he folded his hands behind his back. “The sudden disappearance of the boy, the pained state of the princess, not even considering the force that must have been required to collapse a cave.”

“So um…” Chrona spoke carefully, adjusting his shoulders before he spoke. Sweetie Belle gazed up at him confused. “You didn’t… see anyone?”

“I saw no soul, of that I am sure. But, it doesn’t mean they fought nothing.” He let the sentence hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “It is a common saying that the only true monsters are the ones that forsake their soul. I find it unlikely that they fought each other, as they clearly have no trouble with their nearness now.”

“So they were fighting a monster.” Maya didn’t have to think long on the conclusion. “Hate to give you a hard time,” a few unheard words were muttered before the Siren continued. “But given what I’ve seen in the last... hour here, let alone being here, I don’t exactly find that too impossible.”

“Yeah, monsters are real.” Sweetie Belle agreed with the older woman. “My sister and her friends stop them all the time.” Chrona looked down at the foal, blinking at the words. It was hard for him to believe, but then again, it was just as hard to say she was wrong.

“I buy it,” Maya let out simply, nodding towards the filly nonchalantly. “Same reason as before. But you gotta explain why them fighting a monster is interesting. Hell, given that they were in a cave full of lava, I think a monster is pretty damn average compared to that.”

Amon turned his head slightly towards the woman, the holes of his mask eyeing the blue-haired siren. Chrona and Sweetie Belle felt a cold shiver run through them in unison, the silence unnerving. Maya, however, paid as much mind to the cold shoulder the masked man was giving her as she did her own language.

“You speak fast and loose for being in front of a child,” Amon criticized the woman, making a blue brow rise from Maya. “That is a trait few would see as… desirable.” The woman’s golden eyes smoldered.

“Yeah, cause that mask of yours is doin’ wonders for the PR campaign.” As if to spite the clearly sarcastic words of the Siren, Amon merely chuckled in return. It did little to simmer Maya’s growing annoyance.

“My mask, as you are ignorant to understand, was the symbol of my… campaign.” His hand unfolded from his back, opening slowly towards the woman, acting as if he was showing her some grand treasure. The golden eyes of Maya only saw the parceling mask, and eyes of a satisfied ego.

“You’re not the first person to march around wearing some cheap piece of plastic for a face, acting all high and mighty.” Maya waved her hand in front of her own gaze, mocking the shorter man. She leaned towards him, glowering as she did so. “Most people wear those things to hide their own shame.”

Sweetie Belle and Chrona exchanged glances between one another, each entirely unsure of what to do. The boy slowly curled closer to the floor, the pony in his arms hugging the appendages that held her. Both gave teary expressions to the bickering adults, wishing silently that they would stop before something bad happened.

As a matter of fact, they did stop, because something bad did happen.

Specifically, the tower began to shake.

It began as a slow rumble, like the dull call of thunder through stone. But unlike the cracks of a storm, the vibrations of the sound did not cease. They became stronger.

“W-Whoa,” Chrona uttered automatically, feeling his center of gravity being rocked. He released one of his arms from Sweetie, trying to maintain his balance. It made the foal hug him all the closer, desperate not to fall herself.

The strong gazes between Amon and Maya vanished as they felt the sensation, the floor moving from beneath them. Each took a few involuntary steps, attempting to right themselves before they hit the stone slab floor.

Rock dust fell from the walls and ceiling and the rumbling of stone became louder. It boomed against the eardrums of the four present, swaying the tower as if it were the tip of a blade of grass.

“W-What’s happening?!” Chrona fell to his knees as he whimpered in terror. His grip on Sweetie Belle only became stronger. Her grip on him did not dwindle either. The foal muffled her cries of terror into the boy’s robe.

Neither Amon nor Maya had an answer. Both hated to speak without knowledge. Maya fell to one knee, bracing her hands against the floor as dust continued to fall around her. Her eyes squinted to avoid the particulate from entering her golden eyes.

Amon, however, found it far easier to maintain his balance, only going so far as to widen his gait. His eyes continued to stare out the window as the tower leaned to and fro. The other occupants of the room were too focused on keeping themselves safe to see the activity across the landscape.

“Fascinating.”

The word came out in the deep tone that as barely heard over the rumbling of the stone. It was ignored as Chrona and Sweetie squeaked at the ongoing shaking, too frightened to pay attention to anything. Maya was far too focused on keeping herself alive to worry about words.

Then, just as quickly as it began, it stopped.

For a moment, a sparse and thick fraction of time, only heavy breathing echoed in the room. The remainders of Chrona’s and Sweetie’s frayed nerves trying to make sense of the threat’s sudden absence. Maya even remained stiff on the ground, eyes looking around her in a desperate attempt to see what had changed. All that she could see was the remaining dust from above cascading across the ground.

Amon, however, continued to stare out of the tower top’s large window, his stance as stiff and unchanging as the mask he donned. He was the first to return to a normal stance, bringing his legs closer together, arms remaining folded behind his back. He never even glanced at his guests.

The Siren was the next to stand up, rising from her knee with ease. Her breath was not heavy, but it was deep, training her heart to slow from the adrenaline that had momentarily overtaken her veins. Sweetie and Chrona joined her, albeit far slower and with less grace. The boy pawed his way to stand up, the whole time gripping the filly in his arms with a nearly deathly tightness. The foal did not mind, if she did, she made no motion or complaint otherwise.

“What… what was that?” Sweetie Belle questioned miserably. She clung to Chrona’s arm tightly, the boy holding her with no less force.

“I-I-It felt like the tower was… was f-falling.” Though the foal may have tripped over her words, the boy spoke as though there was ice at his feet. “I-I wouldn’t know how to deal with the tower falling!”

“This tower is not falling; it is not doing any more than leaning.” Amon’s voice had no more emotion than before. “Rather, it is to say… there is a new tower.”

“Whoa, what?” Maya questioned as she quickly approached Amon. Her eyes only glanced at him briefly as she looked out the window. It took little time before her golden eyes were wider than the sockets in Amon’s mask. “I… I don’t believe it.”

“What? What is it?” Sweetie Belle questioned the pair, doing her best to encourage Chrona to move. He did so, only after taking a large gulp. “What happened?”

Neither of the adults spoke as the boy and pony approached, both of their eyes gazing outwards; one out of fear, the other from pure curiosity. When they both saw the new sight, however, their collective gaze became awe.

Standing tall in the center island, like pillar surrounded by ruins, was another tower. They could not judge the similarities between the two, as they had only seen inside one tower and the outside of the other, but what their eyes could judge for fact alone was the opposite tower’s size.

Even with their high vantage point, all members of the party were forced to look up through the window, seeing more of the middle of the new steeple than the top. But for the moment, that was for the best.

While largely made of stone, of similar color to the quartet’s own tower, there hung a mighty ornament from its mid-section. Like a dial, it was notched around its perimeter, evenly spaced ticks of matching sizes.

And in the center of this circle were two lines, one large and one small. They pointed towards a sun and moon.

“Is that… a clock tower?” Maya whispered the question, raising her hand above her brow, squinting out over the landscape. “I swear that what it looks like, just like when I was at the abbey.”

“Y-Yeah,” Chrona agreed tentatively. “But, w-what’s it doing here?” I-I mean… that’s not normal, right? I-I couldn’t deal with it if it was.”

“No,” Amon agreed with the boy. “The sudden appearance of towers is as rare an event as… well, being reborn after death.” This dark chuckle did not ease any of Chrona’s nerves.

“Question is though, what does it mean?” Maya leaned on the stone edge of the window, letting the cold wind of the high altitude whip her blue hair about her face. Her eyes were too focused on the new structure to care. “I’m not expecting a straight answer, but damn do I ever want one.”

The Siren focused the corner of her gaze on the masked man, watching him intently. She did not trust him, not entirely. He had yet to give her substantial reason, but there were too many subtle signs, too many small reminders, comparisons between him and the men of the Abbey.

She hated the Abbey.

“It may be connected with the state of the other… prisoners.” Amon chose the word as carefully as he spoke.

“Why do ya think that?” Sweeite croaked. A moment of silence passed between, eyes alternating from the tower far outside the window to the masked man who had seen it first.

When Amon spoke again, all attention was immediately on him.

“Two more are awakening.”

“Such a peaceful day.”

The words rolled from his tongue with the greatest of ease. Breathing was a close second. His lungs took in a deep breath of the air around him, greedily taking into the fresh air of the trees and scent of the near immaculate flowers around him.

The small calls of wildlife echoed around him. A few birds chirped in the high tree branches, dancing on the limbs before flying away. Insects buzzed across the flowers, landing on the buds to rest before dancing away again.

He smiled easily, letting the atmosphere of the garden enrapture him. His wrinkled hands gripped his staff tightly; leaning on it as his eyes slowly fell close. The sounds and sensations of the garden gave him more ease than any other moment in his life.

“I’m glad you enjoy it.”

A voice spoke from behind him. The man turned to face the figure, leaning on his gnarled cane as he did so. His old eyes saw the tall and proud form of an alabaster alicorn walking to his side. A coy smile was painted across her lips.

“You are to be thanked for it, your majesty,” he replied to the monarch, tilting his head as he spoke. “But I do give credit to your workers as well. I saw the pegasi in the air before, pushing the clouds for a clear sky, just after they watered your garden’s growth.”

His hand lightly, but slowly, swept around him, motioning towards the near enormous amount of flowers, plants, trees, and bushes about them. The alicorn let her gaze roam across the flora, already fully aware of what they were, where they were, and even how they came to be there.

“They work hard to keep my garden vibrant, but Gandalf, surely you have seen more impressive grounds than this.” The mare lightly accused the aged man, noting his name without any hesitance. “You who’ve seen many kingdom across many lands. Are you so easily impressed with this modest garden?”

“Modest is not a word for this place,” Gandalf returned, his beard pulling upwards as a hidden grin pulled at it. “Princess Celestia, very little of your kingdom is left to be called… modest.” The tease was intentional and genuine. And, much like the ways of a wizard, it did not come early nor late. It arrived exactly when it needed to.

Celestia raised a brow at the wizard’s words, fluttering her wings as she trotted across the grass. The two shared a silent exchange with their gazes, each dancing with the other in a way only the old and wise could.

“I accept your compliments with grace,” the diarch spoke with a coquettish smile. “Though I must confess, anything in my kingdom that is grand is so by the hooves of my ponies, not by own.”

“Ah,” the wizard let out simply. “Giving grace to those who act, not to those who speak.” His head nodded, shaking the pointed hat on his head. “Such a quality is rare in kings and queens of the past; more so content to allow the accomplishment of their people to be done in their name.” The comment made Celestia ruffle her wings.

“I do not envy your Middle Earth,” she spoke without hesitation, though offering only disdain in her words, none towards to the figure whom she spoke with. “My lands may not be a paradise, but neither are they so corrupt with greed.” Gandalf only grinned at her words.

“It is true that there exists darkness in my world,” the Gray Wizard easily confessed. “But you have seen yourself the goodness that still come from men, no matter their origins.” Celestia’s sharp smile softened, perhaps for looking upon her recent memories.

“And you are correct.” The alicorn turned from the wizard slowly, motioning carefully with her hoof towards him. Gandalf joined her side, walking with her through the gardens.

For a time, they did not speak, merely letting one another drift into the own memories, recalling their past. It was how the wise became wiser. The wizard’s stick lightly tapped the grass in tandem with his feet, brushing against the light vegetation. His gray robe dragged behind him, collecting particulate that neither irked nor annoyed him.

Celestia, however, trotted over the grass of her garden with poise. Her near immaculate golden hooves kept no trace of dirt nor grass upon them, no matter how hard she pushed upon the ground. Despite their difference, however, the alicorn generated far more noise than the humble wizard.

BEGIN

“I do not lie where it is unneeded to,” Celestia began as their pace continued, untethered by her voice. Gandalf listened as she continued. “I have kept peace in my land through many methods, never just one. Of the many acts I have committed to, the list includes manipulation, force, and even betrayal of my own blood.” The wizard could hear the weight of memories past upon the diarch’s voice.

“There are limits to what I will do, and those are boundaries I have never broken, no matter how great the temptation.” They turned around a tree, sitting at the end of two grass hedges. It’s long curved branches arching high above them. It seemed to draw out the sorrow in the mare.

Celestia did not finish her thought, even as time stretched itself. The longer Gandalf followed her, the tenser the air became.

The just once jubilant garden began to feel cold, the colorful oration that silently came from the flower beds became dull, the gentle giants that hung with vibrant greens became stiff and old, and even the noted endless blue high above become constricted, becoming a taciturn ceiling in a dead castle.

“I have lived for many years, Gandalf,” the alicorn finally continued, her voice becoming as cold as the air around them. The Gray Wizard brought his cloak around his body tighter, fighting away the frigid breeze. “I have spent my time neither mourning my losses nor wishing for better times.”

“You learned young to bear the burdens you have.” It was not a question, nor an accusation, simply a note from one elder to another. Celestia nodded slowly, but her pace did not dwindle.

“That does sound right, yes,” the alicorn admitted. “But I will confess to you, and very likely you alone, that there are things I regret.” The words did not surprise the wizard for even a moment.

Nor was he shocked by what they finally stumbled upon.

Stumbled may not have been the greatest or most accurate turn of phrase. Though the Gray Wizard certainly had no intention of finding this place, it was more than clear that the diarch did. It was a cold a dreary plot of land, hidden in the garden.

Its presence alone is what chilled allotment's normally warm air. It is what made the colors fade, the warmth flee, and the openness enclose. It was a place of little peace, though made intended to be so. It was a land in which rest was ever evading, yet here lay those that intended to rest forever.

In this small plot of land were five tombstones. Five grand and ornate monuments to the lost.

They were set up next to one another, a line that no pony or man enjoyed to follow. One by one, stone by stone, each marked the final resting place of a great hero.

Celestia trotted to them, staring at them with misty eyes. Gandalf was silent behind her. Only the calls of birds and small rushes of wind gave sound to the garden. It was the only sound that was appropriate in such a place.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.” The words were so sudden Gandalf nearly missed them. “They… They did not deserve this.”

“Few do,” the wizard returned, walking to the diarch’s side. His staff poked at the ground as he did so. He stopped when he stood before the graves as well. Though sightless, soundless, and still, each of the carved stones emanated a presence he loathed to feel.

Five graves, five tombstones, five heroes from distant lands and different worlds. Five great sacrifices, five great tragedies, and five names to be remembered.

“Gandalf,” Celestia spoke the wizard’s name, the authority of her crown behind her voice. The Gray Wizard turned to gaze at her. It was then he saw the wetness in her eyes. “You have claimed to be the aide of many rules of the past. You say you counseled kings and warriors alike.”

“I tell many stories, your majesty, but that is not one of them.” He assured. Celestia nodded slowly before speaking again.

“Am I a good ruler?” The question earned no immediate response from the aged figure. “Am I deserving of this burden?”

He stared at her, eyes barren of the sorrow that so clearly tore at Celestia’s soul. She did not shy from his gaze, nor turn her attention to something far off and unimportant. Even with impending judgment approaching her, the failures of her past before her, the diarch of Canterlot stood tall and strong.

“Princess Celestia,” Gandalf spoke calmly, deeply. “I dare to say you may be the honest and kindest ruler I have ever been graced to meet.”

The saddest and most telling of smiles worked over her face. The tears that began to fall made it only brighter.

Quick breaths were taken and released by the diarch, futile attempts to still her tears. Only now did she divert her attention from the Gray Wizard, looking down now on the tombstone in her garden.

They were only reminders of death in a garden full of life. She would never have them removed.

Gandalf placed on of his hands on the alicorn’s back, gently stroking the alabaster coat of the mare. Celestia did little to acknowledge the contact. She had delved too far into her memories of those lost. Now she had to exercise the pain that came with them. The wizard could only comfort her with words.

“You need not worry for them, not anymore.” He spoke with the voice of wisdom, a voice he had used many times before. “They were as strong in spirit as they were body and mind. They will find peace now. You have given them that chance.”

Whether in spite or despite Gandalf’s words, Celestia continued to cry, never once turning her tear stained eyes from the graves before her. To turn away would be denying they were there. She could not, and would not, do such a thing.

Each of the stones had their own image, their own masterfully graphed and charted image to honor the passed hero. Each a symbol to a life that should never be forgotten.

A tall figure with a long robe. A beast with a mighty gait. A knight with boundless loyalty. An assassin with a heart of gold. A swordsman with a sacred blade.

The last stone held her gaze for longer than the others. Gandalf did not need to question why.

It was impossible to forget a hero of time.

END

Gandalf awoke in a cold sweat.

“Whoa! Hey, relax. Re-lax.” A voice spoke above him, strong and used to authority. The wizard felt a grip on his shoulder, holding his body against the ground.

Deep breaths slowly passed through his lips, eyes wide but unfocused. No forces bit at his body, no cold nipping at his skin. His shivers were his own, reacting to the terror of his own dream. And it was a dream.

The world slowly focused with his wide gaze, clearing the haze that settled over his eyes. He recognized little of where he was, recalling not even how he had come here. There was a ceiling above him made of stone, wet with condensation common for deep caves. The familiar echoing of falling water pattered about his ears.

He turned his gaze towards his left, looking for the force that held his shoulder with a tight grip. He felt no fingers upon him, only a strong and sure grip. It felt as if a dwarf was holding him still with one of their muscled hands.

Instead he saw a stallion, adorned in armor of bright purple. It gazed at him with concern, but with a tight muzzle and muscled physique. Gandalf recognized the look the pony was giving him. It was the look of a warrior, a soldier, looking down on his injured ally. He had seen it many times before, but very rarely being given to himself.

“I am alright,” the Gray wizard spoke carefully, calming his breath with a practiced pace.

He pulled his hand towards his chest, thankfully feeling the gnarled staff still tight in his grip. The hammering of his heart slowed with the calmness of his air, controlling the instincts of his body with the wisdom of his mind.

“Good, good,” the stallion muttered above him. His hoof raised from the wizard, releasing the pressure that held him down. Gandalf took the new opportunity to start getting up.

Old as he was, he still had much spry in his step, and he showed it well with his ascent. The stallion raised his brows in nondescript surprise. Though he was not in the least bit familiar with the biped, Shining was kind to believe the lengthy beard on the man was indicative of his age. At least, that was how it was seen in most pony communities. Operative word being most.

When Gandalf stood at his tallest, he leaned back, stretching the sore muscles that run up behind him. His back groaned in discomfort, a few pops echoing through the chamber. The wizard looked around him before he posed the obvious question.

“Where are we?” Shining shrugged in response, shaking his head in tandem.

“I haven’t the faintest idea.” The stallion admitted. “We’re nowhere in Canterlot Castle, that much I’m sure of. The stone is the wrong color, the walls are too damp, and those pipes are far too old.”

“Pipes?” Gandalf repeated the word, looking for the choice item. He did not have ground roots, but he would not mind having the tool to smoke with. He saw nothing of the sort around him. “I see no pipes.” Shining raised a brow at him.

“What are you talking about? You can see, right?” At the narrowed gaze of the wizard, the stallion spoke on. “I’m talking about those thick metal tubes over there.” His hoof pointed towards the far wall, and Gandalf followed him, more than surprised by what he saw.

As Shining had said, large metal pillars were lain over the far wall, emerging from the stone in the ground and disappearing into the ceiling above. Their girth was easily as wide as Gandalf’s arms spread outwards. In their climb on the wall, they changed direction, the clearest sign to the wizard that they were not placed for support.

One of them, red like the dying sun, arced like an awning to the castle’s entrance, curving in a quarter circle before turning upwards again, vanishing into the wet stone above. Another green, like a forest’s leaves, was shaped like a frozen bolt of lightening. From the floor, it had no less than four points before finally vanishing into the ceiling the same as the red metal.

“Pipes…” Gandalf spoke the once familiar word with a tone of concomitance. “I am used to them being much smaller, and preferably ready to light.”

“I don’t even want to know,” Shining dismissed the end of the wizard’s words. “Look, all I’m saying is that the sewer system in Canterlot hasn’t been in place for anymore than a century, being generous. These pipes look, well, older than that.” The Gray Wizard sought to cure himself of his ignorance.

“How can you tell they are old?” He questioned. “I see no moss upon them, nor the cracks of time wearing them down.”

“You really don’t know what they are, do you?” Though he was wearing a helm the same purple as his armor, Gandalf could imagine the stallion was raising a brow beneath the thin sheet of metal. “Sorry, I… I guess I never really prepared myself for having to explain history to some pony from another… universe? Dimension? I don’t even know.”

“And neither do I,” Gandalf spoke with a sigh. He greatly disliked lamenting on things he did not know. As time had taught him, the precious moments of his life were better spent on matters he could change, and hopefully for the better. “Perhaps we should seek a way out of here. Then you may be able to tell where we are.”

“Uh, yeah,” the captain replied after a moment, perhaps unprepared for the old man’s wise words, perhaps caught in though himself. It truly did not matter. “If were lucky, we’re just Manehatten or somewhere within Equestrian borders. But honestly I haven’t a clue where Discord would try and send us.”

“Ah, that creature,” Gandalf ran a weathered hand through his long beard, remembering the copiously compiled monster, speaking like a noble as he danced like a jester. “He is more… random than I imagined him to be.”

“Trust me, he always will be.” Shining let out a chuckle as he spoke. His hoofs clopped lightly on the stone as he began to walk in their room, approaching the pipe laden walls as he glanced about him. Gandalf watched the stallion as much as he did their surroundings. “Discord, being simple, always does what you don’t expect, even if it benefits you over himself.”

“That does not seem like a wise strategy to keep.” It wasn’t that it didn’t seem like one, it just wasn’t one at all. Still, Gandalf was a stranger to these lands, and he knew nothing of their norms.

“Normally it wouldn’t be,” Shining agreed. He hoof splashed a puddle of water, leading him to lift and shake the appendage. “But when you’re immortal, omnipotent, and omniscient, you tend to act more out what entertains you than what benefits you.” Those words appeared to hold more wisdom than fruits that were born from idle conversation.

“You have spoken of this before,” the wizard noted, or at least guessed. “Perhaps even told.”

“The last one,” the stallion corrected. “Princess Celestia instructed the guards about Discord after his first release, in case he ever came back again.”

“And now he has.” The words were not needless, but neither were they helpful.

“Yeah, for the third time now.” Gandalf, despite the clear question he could pose, chose not to press.

The stallion’s pace slowed when he spoke, his shoulders slumping beneath his armor. He could not see his eyes well with the purple helm laden over his head, but Shining’s eyes were doubtlessly downturn. There was a painful memory buried in the captain’s words, and now was not the time to dig up graves.

“There’s a door there.” Gandalf focused his gaze on the stallion as soon as the words were spoken. Across from the alabaster pony was the wall covered with pipes, its stones no different than any other wall, the floor, or the ceiling above. There was no handle, nor inscription to speak. It was a wall of bricks, and that was all the wizard saw.

Fortunately, that same wizard knew better than to see with only what his eyes perceived.

“How can you tell?” He asked, using his staff to walk the small distance over the stone. He felt the water cling and soak into his gray robe. Shining’s hoof waved as he spoke.

“After the invasion of Canterlot by the Changelings, the guards were instructed in how to sense and monitor subtle levels of magic.” His head nodded forwards, likely motioning towards the wall with his horn. “I can sense constant vibrations of magic, likely a false wall or hidden panel way. Either way, it is the way out.”

“Excellent,” Gandalf spoke, a bit of cheer creeping into his voice. “Then let us be on our way.”

“Hey,” Shining lightly held out his hoof, stopping the wizard mid step. Were he not miffed by being forced, he would have been impressed by the strength behind the pony’s grasp. “Before we go walking off into this dungeon, are you going to tell me about your dream?”

Gandalf feigned ignorance as best he could. He was the best in Middle Earth.

“I don’t know what you’re speaking of.” He let out the words simply, being sure his lips were soft and eyes widened ever so slightly. It would give the aura of being accused falsely. Shining, however was not easily convinced.

“I’m not going to say I’m an expert on dreams, but I recognize the look on some pony’s face when they see something they don’t like.” He let a moment of silence hang between them. “You’re eyes were shut tight, but your mouth was grimacing hard enough.”

He was not wise, Gandalf noted internally, but he was quick, catching small things others would forgo. The wizard had to change his tactics.

“Do you not trust me?” He posed instead. “We are in the same misfortunate state, threatened by a dark creature and banished to the sewers of a castle’s keep. If I held any information to guide us from here, I would not hesitate to speak it.”

“And I don’t doubt that.” Shining returned just as fast. “The princess, both princesses, trust you. They made that clear when I first saw you in the Grand Hall.” The stallion took a slow breath. “Look, I’m a soldier, trained since a young age. One of the first things we’re taught is the chain of command. If Princess Celestia and Princess Luna both tell me you’re to be trusted, then I trust you.” The wizard nodded towards him.

“You are loyal to your liege, that is good.” Shining, however, wasn’t finished.

“But the second thing we learn is to never be reckless. If there is information you can have before making a decision, you find it. If there’s something you know, anything you know, be it about this place or Discord himself, I have to know about it.”

Gandalf exchanged his staff between his hands, leaning on the gnarled wood. He gazed down at the stallion as he would a proud king, defending his ways with a foot firmly set in the past and present, but no thought to the future.

“I have met many knights such as yourself.” The wizard began carefully. “Loyal to their lord and careful with their actions. They are the most heralded members of the kingdom. But if there is a fault, one that they all share, it is this.” He leaned over the white stallion as he finished.

“Some secrets are kept to protect, not harm.”

The armored pony stared up at the robed wizard, eyes sharp as blades and will strong as steel. Gandalf bore it with all seriousness and care he had before, that being a slightly amused grin and eyelids at half mast.

“Fine,” Shining spoke dismissively, he snorted on a breath of air. “I don’t like keeping secrets, but…” He let out a sigh, perhaps to make up for his snort.

Gandalf couldn’t tell the Captain of the Castle’s Guard about his dream. It was a message of the coming trials, a whisper from a future that spoke only to him. It was not a tale meant to be shared easily nor loosely. He knew the few who should be told, and Shining was not one of him.

He couldn’t tell the future to someone that wouldn’t live to see it.

“Hmm…” Discord slowly hummed watching the wizard and guard converse. “I was hoping for more denial, maybe a bit of self loathing. The old guy just seems so… content.” The draconequus shivered in mid-air loathing the word he had allowed himself to speak.

“What to do, what to do,” he questioned as he tapped his claws against the end of his long chin, staring at the multitude of screens that encapsulated the monolith of a floating island.

“On one claw, I wanna see the big bad Batman and his posse of creatures being eaten alive by a giant mechanical bird.” As he spoke the image of the scenario appeared over the screen. He couldn’t help but focus his mismatched eyes at the dark gowned human, crouching next to the timid pegasus, cape draped protectively over her. He could imagine so many ways they could die.

“But then on this paw, I kind of want to see what happens when three different levels of genius meet up with the epitome of madness.” And again, the enormous screen before him changed, blurring out into static before refocusing on a new image. It showed now not the wizard and the stallion, but a dragon, a filly, a boy, and a girl, all walking within a wide cavern, the robotic armed teen holding a flyer in her hand.

“Yet on this hoof, I really wanna see more of Jack’s and Jack’s antics, especially now that they have Dust from Dust.” A final time the screen changed, transitioning from an underground terrain to a forest glade. The bright white of a man’s robes was as clear as the orange coat of the mare next to him. But across from them, however, was a figure that seemed caught in between them both. It stood on two legs, but had the coat of an animal. He wore the clothes of a man, but complete with a tail and tall ears. Unlike the two, however, his clothes seemed to belong to the forest, shades of green blended with blue.

“Aw heck, I’m gonna have to watch those three now.” Discord clapped his paw, claw, and lower hoof together as if to solidify his own commitment. “There are just too many word plays that good old Jack is going to mystify himself with. It’ll be like watching a rabbit with its foot cut off trying to jump.” He snickered at his own statement, gleefully imagining the scenario.

“Maybe after Fluttershy turns topside, I’ll see just how fast little Angel can jump away.” Next Chapter: NeverDawn Cavern Estimated time remaining: 1 Hour, 40 Minutes