With a piercing, thrice-called whistle and a huge bellow of steam, the train rolled to a stop. The final push of inertia marked the last break as the conductor called, “Train arriving at Camelot Grand Station! End of line, will all passengers please gather your luggage and depart in an orderly fashion. Next train to depart tomorrow morning at four fifty-three AM.”

Luggage in hand, Twila Shields--recently turned twenty-five years old--stepped down to the platform. Smoothing her dress from the blowing of the train, she breathed deep.

Back in Camelot at last! she thought happily. I love visiting with my friends, and all, but I can’t wait to see Queen Celestia for a nice, peaceful meal on our own.

She had been looking forward to this visit for months. While Mansfield had become Home in its own fashion, she had been born and raised in Camelot. Her parents were waiting for her, there was her brother to meet at the Academy--which brought to mind her old teachers and some school friends...There were so many places she wanted to visit, so many people she wanted to catch up with.

But throughout the whole trip, Twila knew exactly who she wanted to see the most… But Celestia would have to wait, she’d decided. She felt it only right to see her parents first.

Besides, she thought, I need to drop my stuff off. It’d be kind of weird to have my suitcase with me during dinner.

The station was mostly empty, it being so late. Here or there she saw porters closing up and janitors cleaning. A few of the many benches in the main plaza had become beds to passengers awaiting the morning trains. One had a couple, covered together in a jacket with their heads leaning against each other’s. Twila smiled at the cute image, then hurried on out.

It was the tail end of summer, so the night air held a chill, especially when the breeze picked up. What was more, Camelot was at a higher elevation than Mansfield, so it was naturally cooler. But Twila was quite prepared. She untied the jacket around her waist--a girlish habit she had picked up from Dash, of all people--and put it on.

Ready, she looked along the street until she saw a vacant cab. Throwing her luggage in, she sat down and gave directions to her parents’ condo. Anxiety and impatience filled her from head to toe. That was a downside to coming alone--the train ride had been terribly dull, despite the half dozen books she’d brought with her.

She had waited too long to visit, she realized. That was why it was so hard to stay patient. Her foot tapped against the cab’s floor the entire drive to her parents’ as she watched the familiar streets and buildings pass her by.

Making a note of various shops and restaurants she wanted to visit before leaving, she decided to check on something. Pulling out her phone, Twila dialed her brother’s number. It only rang twice before he answered.

“Twily!” came his voice from the receiver, loud enough she winced and pulled back a bit. “Are you in town yet?”

“Hello to you too, Lew. Yes, I’m in town. Going to Mom and Dad’s to drop off my bags.”

He laughed. “I’m surprised--we all figured you’d head straight to the palace!”

“Please,” she said with her own laugh. “Family first. Which is why I called, actually. You’re still going to be at the Academy in…” She looked at her watch. “About forty minutes or so?”

“Oh sure! Just hangin’ with some of the guys from the Academy. We don’t have anywhere better to be.”

“Aren’t you still working?” she asked, confused.

He didn’t answer for a few seconds. She was about to ask what was wrong, when he said, “I’m on leave for the moment. Just enjoying a few days’ rest, y’know?”

Twila knew he was hiding something, but thought better of pressing over the phone. She would be seeing him soon enough--he’d answer her properly then. Instead, she replied, “I know the feeling, Big Brother. I’ll see you in a little while, OK?”

“See ya then, Twily--say hello to Mom and Dad for me.”

“Will do, bye!”

Putting away the phone, she let out a sigh, a frown creasing her forehead. I’m not back for ten minutes and there’s trouble. Why does it seem like no matter where I go, there’s always something?

Dropping the thought, she rested her head against the window. The cool glass against her skin did wonders to relax her. What was she doing? Surely there was a reasonable explanation. She was worrying for nothing.

“I’m just too used to there always being some disaster behind anything unusual,” she said to no one. “I really need to relax more.”

“You say something, miss?” asked the cabbie.

“Oh no! Just...talking to myself,” she said, embarrassed. “Sorry…”

“It’s fine, miss!” he said, laughing. “Happens all the time with the late customers. You just don’t mind me, miss. We’re almost there.”

“Thanks.”

Retreating to her thoughts, Twila stared into the empty streets as the cab wound its way away from the station towards the apartments where her parents’ owned a condominium. Did her brother’s strange behaviour have anything to do with the recent rumors coming out of the city? Admittedly, that was one of the most important reasons behind her visit. If what the tabloids and countless articles online said were true, she needed answers from Celestia desperately.

It wasn’t much longer before she arrived at her parents’. Having scheduled more time with them the next day, she simply dropped her suitcase off, exchanged a few pleasantries, then began the ten minute walk to the Academy. It was a path she could walk with her eyes closed. The familiar sidewalk, like the city itself, possessed such happy memories. Now, her mind half-distracted with rumors and whispers, the street seemed dirtier than she remembered, the cement cracked and chipping from neglect.

Before she knew it, the looming shape of the Academy towered over her, its elegant, silvery gate standing half open for the summertime all-nighters and evening workers who would still be utilizing the building. Or buildings, rather.

The Academy itself was actually two campuses that had grown into one another. One was the Royal Academy (of Arts, Sciences, Technology and Politics, but most people omitted that part). The other the Academy of Combat, Defense, and Leadership, often just called the Military Academy. Over time, expansions and cross-school programs had more or less made the two facilities into one massive, all-purpose school centered around a joint-administration.

She stepped through the gate and stopped, staring at the campus she had spent so many days and nights working hard in. Short, knee-high lights lined the primary entrance and walkway that coursed along a serpentine path throughout the various buildings and facilities. They dotted the landscape, massive, mostly-shadowed buildings, resting for a little while longer yet. The next semester started in less than a week.

Above, in the distance, she saw the castle on its high perch. Lighted windows, stationary lights, and roving spotlights illuminated the spiraled towers and castle walls from its place atop a high cliff overlooking the sea. Banners whipped in the wind, casting shadows that made the castle seem somehow magically alive. It was a majestic sight, still taking Twila’s breath away despite all her years in Camelot.

Detaching herself from the sight, she headed forward purposefully. If she knew Lew--and she knew Lew--he’d be with his Academy friends in the Military Gymnasium, nearly all the way in the back of the Academy grounds. She pulled her jacket tighter, the coolness of the night beginning to get to her. The wind off the coast was beginning to pick up, causing her to grumble at the distance. The good news was the gymnasium being near a summit station that would take her to the castle.

Moving her legs in a quick march, Twila rubbed at her shoulders as she followed the winding paths through the campus. In her very first year, she had memorized each and every pathway, knowing which buildings to cut through as well, in order to get from any point A to any point B as quickly and efficiently as she could. Not once had she been late.

So it was only a short time later that she pushed opened one of the glass doors to the gym, rubbing her arms and shivering as she thanked Elondrie for the rush of sudden heat inside. Letting the feeling return to her nose and ears, she asked the desk attendant about her brother’s whereabouts and headed to find him.

She found her big brother sitting on a bench, surrounded by four others, in a large weight room. They were talking animatedly, but her brother’s face was dark, worried. If she didn’t know him better, she’d even call him angry. Her brother never got angry. The others she recognized from previous visits--they were also members of the Royal Guard, elite soldiers under Lew’s command.

Hesitating, she quickly recalled their names and tried to think if it was significant to find them all here, after hours. Lew was sitting, with Roy--a tall man, a little older than Lew; Twila knew him to be Lew’s second in command--and a woman with shoulder-length black hair. Rosetta was her name, though she went by Roz. They were the ones doing most of the talking--they seemed to be pleading and arguing with her brother fiercely.

A little bit to the side, slowly pumping a small dumbbell, was a short man, his red hair styled up, spiked to match his edged features. The hook of his nose marked him out as a Kvaat, and thus as Mziigeev. Leaning against a wall was a tall, broad-featured man with the dark, dark skin of a Somani pureblood. His eyes were closed, but Twila occasionally saw his jaw work as he added bits and pieces to the discussion. She was pretty sure his name was Earl Wind.

While she had paused to recall their names, Lew had noticed her. His face instantly lit up as he stood, waving an arm. “Twily!” he called, heading her way. “It’s so good to see you, sis!”

She returned the smile, saying, “It’s good to see you, too, big br--” She was cut off as his arms wrapped around her tightly. She barely managed to move an arm to pat his back as she hissed, “It’s nice t’see ya, too, Lew--can’ breathe, broth’r!”

Laughing, he let her go. His smile never wavered as she gave him a dark look. “Look at you, sis! You seem well. Mansfield treating you alright?”

“Oh you know,” she said idly, “not a bland day goes by. Celestia’s random assignments all over help...er, are you OK, big brother?” she asked, seeing his face darken at mention of Celestia.

His smile returned just as fast, but she could tell it was somewhat forced. “Hmm? Yeah, I’m just fine.”

“Don’t give me that, Lew,” she replied, putting her hands on her hips and giving him a hard glare. “Something’s wrong. You can’t hide from me, remember? If nothing else, I can call Cadence. In fact, why don’t I--”

He stopped her arm on its way to her purse, a look of nervous fright on his face. “N-no! That’s won’t...I mean, we don’t need to bother Cadence with this stuff, Twily.”

“Ah hah! So there is something! I knew it.” The dots connected in her head, and she gasped. “And you haven’t told Cadence yet!”

Grabbing her gentle by an arm, he pulled her away from the others, all who were listening closely, some of whom were sniggering at Lew.

When they were out of earshot, he leaned close and whispered, “No, I haven’t told her yet. It’s...complicated, Twily.”

“Does this have anything to do with those stories online?” she asked eagerly.

“Sort of, yeah.” Scratching the back of his neck, her brother seemed incredibly uncomfortable. It was unnerving--Lew’s confidence was, well, had been unending. “Things around Camelot have been...tense, Twila. And not just here, but all over. It was kept quiet at first, but now? Now it’s starting to spill over.”

Twila couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She said as much.

“I know it’s crazy, but those stories are closer than you’d think,” he replied, his tone deadly serious. “Some of the Queen’s most recent policies have been, uh…” His eyes pleaded for help finding a word.

“Unpopular?” she offered.

He shrugged, saying, “That’s being charitable, but yeah. Honestly, it almost feels like a different woman on the throne.”

“So all that’s true?” Twila asked. “The drafting of young men all over? Blocking of ports to Kvaan?”

“Yeah, but that’s the small stuff. Just a week ago, she pushed through a movement to further isolate the Western Tribes into smaller territory. It hasn’t been said outright, but she’s practically treating them like foreign invaders. She recalled the Kvaan ambassador, arrested the Kvaat one here. She’s--”

“Wait, wait, wait. How in Elondrie’s name did she justify that?”

“Convinced enough people that the rise in Kvaat pirate activity was actually the opening strikes of a concentrated assault.”

“What!? That’s ridiculous!”

“It seemed less ridiculous when a raiding party struck all the way inland as Las Vegas--flying the royal colors and joined by a Talon squad.”

Twila was confused. “But those are--”

“--the elite unit comprised of the ruling warlord’s family,” Lew finished. “One hundred percent sanctioned by the Kvaan government for Kvaat interests as a unified people. Confirmed by our information network. They weren’t renegades.”

“But still… Celestia wouldn’t… She couldn’t…”

“She apparently would and could and has, Twila. Everything she’s been doing--and plans on doing--has been to fortify Torani’s defenses. The old guard eat it up, mostly, and the younger generation follows through out of obedience or loyalty to big names like Alaurd Blueblood.” Lew nearly spat the name.

“So…” Twila hesitated, trying to think of some logical reason why Celestia would order such drastic and warlike measures. “I mean, it’s for defense, right? Maybe there’s some information you don’t have or...or… She’s being pressured into it?”

“Some have mentioned that. Princess Luna’s usually blamed for the sudden shift to a more militant political atmosphere,” he said flatly, nodding.

“You sound like you don’t believe that…?”

“Considering Luna has zero political sway and hasn’t even been in Camelot for almost a year, I’m gonna have to say no to that one.”

Twila didn’t know how to reply. Her mind tried to process what she had learned with the teacher she had known for years. Celestia--who had always talked about finding peaceful solutions? Of putting others before one’s self? Who championed knowledge, equality, and peace? Impossible.

“Have you talked to her?” she asked, overwhelmed.

He shook his head. “No, she won’t see me. And actually…” He looked nervous again. “I’ve kinda taken a break on being Captain of the Royal Guard.”

“You’ve whaaaat?!” Twila yelled, dumbfounded. “How could you just quit the Guard? Do Mom and Dad know?! Cadence?”

He raised his hands defensively. “Hey now, I didn’t say quit. Just a vacation...until this craziness either works itself out or blows over. You know I wouldn’t just give up something like that for no reason.” He looked at the others across the room, talking amongst themselves and lifting various weights. “The guys...they’re actually here trying to get me to quit for real. Like they have.” His face took on the hard look of absolute dedication she had known for years. “But I’m not ready to give up. I… I don’t know how, but there must be answers, Twila! There must be.”

Placing a hand high up on his shoulder, she gave him a squeeze. “You’re right--and I’m going to go find them, Lew.”

Nodding, he replied, “That’s a good idea. If she’d tell anyone, she’d tell you. I just… It’s hard, y’know? Being what I have been for so many years, then hearing all this…? I grew up knowing--absolutely knowing--that Celestia stood for Torani. That Torani was Celestia. Not because of her family name, but because of how she lived it. Every day of her life, she lived as Torani should live. I just can’t face her with these kind of questions, Twily…”

“I understand, big brother. Leave it to me,” she said, putting on a mask of confidence she only half didn’t feel. “I’m going to go up to the castle right now.”

“OK,” he replied. Leaning down, he kissed her cheek then hugged her tight once more. “I know you’ll find out what’s going on. When you do, and all our worries were for nothing, tell her I offer my deepest apologies for even doubting her for a second.”

“You got it, BBBFF,” she said, patting him on the cheek. She said her farewells to Lew’s squad, then headed straight out the back for the Castle Station.

The castle had been built upon the cliff overlooking the city. At the time it had been for defensive purposes, but later historians, politicians, and artists of every form had described it as a beacon of equality and peace, standing tall and true for all to see. Which, while a pretty symbolic image, was actually more literal than most people expected.

Though primarily overlooking the coast, the castle could be seen for miles. Even from Mansfield, the aura of the castle’s lights were easily found. On especially clear nights, a viewer could see the castle’s silhouette.

However, it also meant that there was no footpath to the castle itself. A visitor had to be delivered by helicopter, the Camelot balloon service, or one of six cable cars. The helicopter was for VIPs; the balloons didn’t run at night. That left Twila taking the nearest cable car to the cliff--a fifteen minute ride.

As she stepped out of the summit station towards the castle gates, she felt half-crazed. The whole ride her brother’s words--and especially his body language--played through her thoughts. Combined with what she had learned, Twila needed answers. Now.

She felt as if she was walking through a dream, though pinching herself had only left a small red mark and no change to her surroundings. Reality felt...unreal. Celestia--warmongering? Isolating Torani from the North?

If everything Twila had read and heard was true, that meant that Celestia was no less than...than… She swallowed hard, forcing the words from her mouth, hoping the sound would bolster the ridiculousness of the idea.

“A tyrant…”

She was familiar with the word, with the idea of tyranny itself. But Torani’s history had long been blessed with a gracious monarchy-turned-constitutional monarchy. Her leaders had been fair and virtuous, even without the normal historical positive bias. But other northern nations hadn’t been so lucky.

Kvaan especially came to mind. Kvaan’s leadership had always been the strongest, most influential warlord and his or her family. Though unified in a common cultural background, the nation had almost always been torn by civil strife as various tribal groups warred with one another for supremacy.

Yes, Kvaan had shown the world what tyranny was. Terror, chaos, and pain.

And Celestia--Queen Celestia, benevolent child of Elondrie, wise woman of peace and justice--was acting that way?

She needed to talk to her, as soon as possible.

Passing through the gates, ignoring the friendly call of the Guard there, she headed for the most direct path she knew of: one of the older secret passageways that exited outside the hall that Celestia’s chambers were connected to. Sliding out from behind a large tapestry, she turned the corner and stopped short.

At either side of the hallway stood a member, dressed in Celestia’s colors as members of the Royal Guard. But Twila knew every Guard member’s face. Through Lew, she had met them all, spent time with most.

But these two were strangers. The armor was right, the stance perfect, the lances at their sides marking their traditional training even more than the swords at their hip. Despite all that, Twila sensed something...off. Something just below the surface.

One of them saw her standing there. Putting a hand to his sword, he called, “You there! This area is off limits to all but the cleaning staff. Turn around now!”

Tilting her head, Twila asked, bewildered, “What? But Celestia’s door is always open and--” She shook her head. “I’m Twila Shields. Personal protege to Queen Celestia. I need to talk to her.”

Shockingly, she saw his grip harden on the sword hilt. “I don’t care who you are. No entry means no entry. Now remove yourself or be arrested.” His words were harsh, an obvious edge of danger and violence riding just under the surface.

Raising her hands, Twila quickly said, “A-alright!” and left, back around the corner. Her heart was beating--had her life actually been in danger? From the Royal Guard of all people?

As she made her way to the main halls, she saw more Guard soldiers, none of whom she recognized.

Who are these people? she asked herself. The Guard almost never changes its roster...now it looks like they replaced everyone!

Many gave her the same warning the original Guard had. Or harshly told her to keep moving. None recognized or cared for her name. Celestia was not to be disturbed. Those were their orders, and they cared for little else.

Well. She was Twila Shields, and she cared for plenty! She was absolutely determined to get her answers and so she made her way to the old passage that would take her directly to the queen’s room.

There weren’t any Guards in that part of the castle, so she had no issues. It had been months since anyone had used the passage, she saw. A thick layer of dust lay undisturbed. Even she hadn’t used it much in the years before going to Mansfield.

Finally, impatience gnawing at her heels, she reached the exit. It was relatively simple--it wasn’t a mechanical door, but simply a trick of architecture. Twila lifted a latch that locked the door’s hinges, and began pushing the door open. It was heavy, and she didn’t want to scare the queen, so she had to push it open rather slowly.

When it had barely cracked, spilling the room’s light into the passage, she stopped. She could hear a voice. Or voices?

Twila listened carefully. Was that Celestia? It sounded like her and yet…didn’t. It was almost like listening to a stereo whose right and left were slightly out of sync. On one level was Celestia’s familiar, motherly tone. On another, a stern, commanding tone seemed to be trying to fight for primacy. Very lightly, she almost thought she could hear others. Other voices and...sounds that were nothing close a voice.

This last Twila disregarded as her imagination, and she went back to listening.

“I’m so terribly bored,” said the strange voice, an almost-echo right behind it causing Twila’s ears some discomfort. Twila couldn’t tell if she was talking to someone or herself. “It’s hearing after hearing, problem after problem… It drags on and on, day after day… What do you think? Tomorrow we do away with them?”

There was an unsettling hiss in reply.

“Yes, instead...why not arrest the fools? Oh yes! That should be far more fun. Wasting the crown’s time? No, that’s too droll… Ah! Concentrated acts of rebellion, distracting the crown from matters of national security and abroad. Regal, elegant, and needlessly complicated. Beautiful.”

That same hiss, though this time it sounded like a laugh.

Confused, Twila risked opening the panel a little more to allow her to see. It was no more than an inch, maybe an inch and a half, but she peeked out.

It was all she could to to stifle the gasp--no, the scream--that arose to her lips. Every thought roared at her to turn away, yet she couldn’t.

It was Celestia… Or at least, it looked like Celestia. She was sitting sideways in a chair, one leg resting high on the arm, revealing much of the queen’s shapely leg as her gown fell. It was nearly indecent--backed by the open neckline, showing off the queen’s modest cleavage. Twila had learned firsthand many times Celestia’s strange sense of propriety, but this relaxed, all but scandalous posture just looked so wrong with the woman before her.

But that wasn’t the terrifying part.

At the foot of the chair was...something. Twila’s eyes both refused to lock onto it and yet couldn’t look away. It was about the size of a child, perhaps around ten years old. Superficially it looked human--it had two legs, folded underneath it, two arms, folded the same way; a head, complete with mouth, nose, ears, and eyes; all connected a central torso.

But the proportions were nauseatingly off, the placement of the limbs approximately right, yet her mind could pick up the subtle wrongness of them. It was as if someone had roughly been given the description of a human, without the fine details. The maker, therefore, had gotten the overall shape and placement right, but had made countless little mistakes that added into something horrifying.

But worse were the traits that were decidedly inhuman. The eyes were faceted, tinged green, though superficially they resembled a normal human eye. Its nose was a wedged lump of skin, without nostrils; similarly, its ears were shaped right, but lacked an ear canal. Poking through the jagged mouth were teeth--long, carnivorous fangs that dripped a too-thick saliva in a puddle on the floor.

It’s skin was an off-white, with rough, cracking patches of what looked like black, plastic-like plates. Worse, it seemed scaled, though not like a reptile.

One arm dangled low, Celestia was scratching roughly where the creature’s chin should be. It rocked gently back and forth, hissing in apparent pleasure.

“We’ve done it time and time again, my child, and yet…” She sat up. “I never truly enjoy the preparations. To be subtle, to weave my web inescapably...there is a charm, true. But it is far too simple a task! Time and time again, my child, it is simply a matter of setting up the pieces and letting them fall into place. It takes no effort, no real skill. We are wasted upon these lesser things. Such as this form--taking their pathetic ruler was beyond simplistic.”

She raised her arms and looked down. “This body… I feel so...limited and ugly.”

Body? What does she--Elondrie’s light!

The woman who looked like Celestia--but Twila knew without a doubt wasn’t--had closed her eyes, holding her arms out wide. Slowly, gruesomely slowly, the skin at her fingertips...bubbled was the best way Twila could describe it. It crawled and shifted, piled on top of itself, thinning and stretching. In a wave of painful-looking movement, every inch of the woman’s body slowly began boiling over.

She was changing.

At her fingertips grew long, gleaming nails or claws, thinned to needle-points. Her skin took on a darker hue, with a similar--though more ordered--texture as the creature at her feet. Black plates intermingled with scaled, fleshy joints that seemed to pulse with grotesque irregularity. The soft flesh was such a rich green that Twila wasn’t entirely sure it didn’t glow with its own inner light.

The gown tore, falling to shreds on the floor, and razor-edged wings, both powerful and delicately insectoid, raised up, then slid inside the...thing’s body.

That was the best way to describe it, Twila decided: like an insect. The thing’s head collapsed in on itself--Twila nearly vomited--before expanding out like an inflating balloon. The eyes stayed terrifyingly human, but were a slowly changing series of blues and greens.

Spiky ridges sprouted from its head, though pockets of space were spread here or there--Twila noticed the same pockets in its hands and along its legs. The legs stayed more or less human, despite the color and skin changing to the same green and black fleshy joints--two more than a human would have--and plating. The feet had become three-toed, complete with blades of the plating on the end.

Celestia’s multi-hued hair gave way to dark blue, messy, and too stringy. It seemed to move on its own, somewhat reminding her of an octopus's tentacle. Under the long locks was the thing’s face. Flat and smooth, just a pair of eyes and an over-large, wicked mouth. Between shark-like teeth flicked a black tongue, or perhaps it was just another plate-spike like those at her elbows and fingers.

The thing let out a gasp--its voice held echoes of Celestia’s gorgeous tones, but had been overwritten by an unearthly hiss-like squeal that shot waves of panic down Twila’s spine. It was wrong. Just...wrong on every conceivable level. She could almost feel her mind wrenching in two as it tried to understand the scene in front of her. Despite what her senses told her, Twila knew--positively knew--what exactly she was seeing wasn’t the truth. Some primal force of her reality recognized it, but couldn’t show it. The horror Twila could see? It paled to the horror just below the surface.

The thing was talking again.

“Yes, it is so glorious to shed that disgusting form. Celestia the fair? Celestia the beautiful? These creatures have no taste.” The creature spun this way and that, admiring itself as it hissed out, “There is no beauty to match Queen Chrysalis! Soon, dear child, all will share my image and perfection. This world will fall to rise in glorious change. My children shall consume and become all!”

Then, opening wide, it let out an almost ultrasonic laugh. It drilled its way through Twila, both heard and not. The teeth gleamed in the light, the creature’s body bulging with obvious pleasure and delight. It laughed, and the creature at its feet clung to its leg and hissed in delight and zombie-like adoration.

Thoughts failing to form, a scream threatening to work its way up her throat, Twila followed the last coherent thought she had: Run.

She ran.

The next few moments were a blank in Twila’s memories. She didn’t become fully aware of her surroundings until she found herself kneeling by her bed, face buried in the now tear soaked sheets. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she stood and began pacing.

Though her heart still screamed and wailed, her mind throbbing in pain and threatening to snap completely, she forced herself to focus. To calm down. To analyze, understand, and plan accordingly. She was Twila Shields--this is what she did.

Celestia was gone.

No, she berated herself. Say it!

“Celestia...is g-gone,” she stammered. Again, the pain found her heart like a knife. She shivered, struggling to remain standing, to keep the tears at bay. But she held. Facts. The truth.

Celestia was gone--she had been replaced. Replaced by some...some creature, some monster. She called herself Chrysalis.

“What was that she was saying?” she said, thinking, her brow furrowing in concentration.

Children--she mentioned children, Twila thought. Changing us into...more like her?

Whatever her goal, the tyrant Queen Chrysalis had to be stopped. But how? Even Twila couldn’t accuse the queen of all Torani of being a monster. Whatever she was, Chrysalis seemed to have power--at the least power enough to perfectly mimic Celestia.

Ignore the stab. Keep thinking.

Regardless, Twila had a heavy suspicion the new Royal Guard--so many faces she had never seen before--were already, if not changed, in the pocket of the Tyrant. If she went through them, the game would be over before it began. That left her brother out--he would want to go through the Guard himself.

Who did she go to?

She shook her head slowly, as her thoughts and sense of sanity began to settle again. It was obvious. So obvious.

Celestia was gone--murdered or imprisoned, Twila didn’t know, but she was gone. Camelot was no longer safe. Her hometown, the place of her birth, had become enemy territory.

That left Home.

That left Mansfield.

That left Spike. It left Pinkie. It left Chylene, Jack, and Dash. It left Rarity.

Her friends; her family.

Taking as many shortcuts and passageways as she could, Twila almost ran the entire way out of the castle. She’d call her brother and her parents later. They’d understand. They always did.

Like the Cult of Sombra a year ago. Like Dorcas puppeting Princess Luna the year before that. Like all the crazy spots Celestia--the pain was lessening now--had sent her and her friends into before. This Chrysalis, whatever she was, wherever she came from, whatever she wanted…

Twila knew there was nothing she and the girls--and Spike, too--couldn’t handle.

Torani needed them.

Celestia needed them.

Twila wouldn’t stop until she returned to Mansfield. Already plans were beginning to form in her head.

“Chrysalis… You will pay for what you’ve done!” she said through gritted teeth. “I’ll make sure of it, personally!”