The clockwork clacking of light blue hooves on the concrete sidewalk provided rhythm to Glancing Shock’s flicking eyes as he trotted through the towering, haphazard jungle of concrete and glass that sprung up around him. Throngs of ponies surged to either side of him, coming, going, jostling past one another, touching. His twitching eyes memorized the gaits of ponies coming towards him, and those to either side, and his brain raced predicting their movements even as he adjusted his motions precisely. He passed through the crowded streets like a living ghost, always a hair’s breadth away from grazing up against anypony despite the thick, swirling crowd running to and fro, oblivious to the pedestrian tustle as they brushed past one another on their way about the city.

Glancing Shock would have grimaced if he could. Instead he kept his eyes forward, searching, ever-moving in spite of the numbness behind them. He focused on the steady clopping of his hooves, their percussion never erring in spite of the small changes in his trot he made to avoid touching the others around him.

He hated cities. He hated Manehatten. And, as a few dried crumbs of bread bounced off the side of his head, most finding a home in his spiky blue and white mane, he hated his companion. An inaudible snort of disgust escaped his nostrils.

Control.

“Tho ith luhk thiff,” Night-Captain Moon Glade said, holding half a haydog in his hoof as he hovered in front of the light blue pegasus, his leathery wings flapping slowly as he moved backwards over the crowd. A few more crumbs sprayed from his mouth, new tenants in Glancing Shock’s mane. The pegasus’s lips thinned slightly.

Control.

Moon Glade gulped loudly, his brilliant white smile returning to his face as he raised the half-finished morsel in front of him. “Ponies don’t take ta’ meat, right? Yet ‘ow in the everlovin’ darkness o’ Luna’s nethers did they come up with…” he frowned, scrunching his eyes at the haydog in his hoof, “‘textured vegetable protein’?”

The ex-Guard-Captain remained silent, subtly flinching away from errant shoulders and flanks as he navigated the flowing corridor of oncoming ponies with his odd, mechanical grace.

Control.

“Not kiddin’ ya’, boyo.” Moon Glade brandished the small food item a few centimeters from Shock’s face, motioning towards it with his free hoof. “Jus’ like the real thing, I tell ya’.” His smile faltered for a second. “Not as good as tha’ hotdogs in Pawland, tho’. Heard they was made from actual Diamond Dogs. Tasty lil’ things, them.” He glanced down at his haydog before leaning forward and taking a large bite. His eyes squinted shut and he chewed happily, spraying a few more crumbs at Glancing Shock’s face.

The pegasus stallion trotted forward evenly.

Control.

The Night-Captain’s wings froze as his eyes shot open. He started sinking towards the sidewalk throng Glancing Shock was busy avoiding. Accursed cities. So many targets to dodge, so many things that could go wrong. His clockwork hooves clopped ceaselessly, before his entire form froze as he felt a hoof clock him on the shoulder. Passing ponies ran into him, brushing past and muttering annoyed curses about the Celestia-damned tourist. Shock’s eyes became distant.

Control.

The hoof impacted his shoulder again, and his eyes focused on the dark blue night pony prodding him. As he met Moon Glade’s eyes, the Night-Captain thrust the remainder of his haydog towards the blue pegasus.

“I ‘eard all about that nastiness over in Bayrut.” Glade leaned closer, revealing his sharpened canines as his grin widened. “Wanna see what the mangy bastards taste like, boyo?”

Glancing Shock swatted the bat-pony’s hoof aside and, with a flap of his shuddering wings, tore straight up into the air. A crack of thunder roared out and the nearby city ponies drew back in surprise, before shaking their heads and continuing with their tasks. Glancing Shock could swear he could see Moon Glade’s slitted, yellow eyes following him skyward, that Celestia-forsaken grin plastered all across his face like some kind of mask, before he broke past the skyline of the buildings around him and released a howling, visceral shout. The electricity in his wings arced violently in the air all around him as his chest heaved in and out, before both evened out and the last static sparks died amidst his feathers.

He slowly floated back down to the street, his amber eyes blank as he rejoined the throng. They resumed their ceaseless flicking as he took one step, then another. Before long, his hooves struck with even intervals as they carried him closer to the river, and Manehatten’s sprawling wharves.

His wings tingled as they felt a small rush of air brush against them, and his searching eyes pointedly ignored the small grin on the Night-Captain’s face as he kept pace beside the trotting pegasus.

“Ya’ know, boyo,” Glade said, shoving the last remnants of his haydog into his mouth and swallowing loudly with a smack of his lips. “If I’da known that removin’ that stick from yer bum made ya’ squeel like a damned banshee...I’da done that a lot sooner.”

Glancing Shock’s left hoof slammed into the sidewalk as he ground to a stop. He slowly turned his head to his unwanted companion as his dull eyes narrowed a fraction.

“I hate you.”

He turned his head slowly back towards their destination, and began his mechanical canter again. He did his best to ignore the amused snort he heard behind him.

Control.

A short while later, the pair trotted forth from the constrictive grasp of granite and glass onto the rolling expanse of Manehatten’s port. As a fluttering mass of gulls cawed irreverently overhead, Glancing Shock repressed his desire to wrinkle his nose at the increasingly acidic brine of the ocean spray assaulting his nostrils, instead opting to flick his eyes towards either horizon. Situational awareness was almost as vital to his control as was personal avoidance. He made sure to nonchalantly dodge those entering and exiting from the port and the nearby warehouse district, his gaze flicking to the nigh-ancient roads growing from the natural bay into the sprawling metropolis behind him, a pulsing, dissonant heart of supplies and ponies feeding a clockwork monotony he’d just barely escaped with his own conscience intact.

A great multitude of wooden seafaring vessels were docked, their sails folded and bound, and the ships tied securely to stone decks. The cacophonous melody of an endless throng of seagulls was interrupted almost constantly by the shouts of earth ponies, pegasii, and minotaur sailors as they swarmed the ships, unloading freight, loading crates, and raising their voices in boisterous, productive instruction. Off in the distance, in a cordoned off section of the harbor, airships made their lazy descent into the calm waters of the bay, slowly tracing a path to stone piers in an orderly fashion as directed by pegasiii overseers in the sky. There were even a few griffon airships in the throng, their sleek, armored shapes contrasting sharply with the Equestrian aircraft.

Glancing Shock still could not understand why ponies insisted on their helium or heated air balloons being structurally separated from their carriages. Didn’t they realize that all it would take is a pass from a pair of griffons, with their razor sharp claws—or even a sneeze from a dragon—to separate the carriage from the very thing keeping them airborne? It was thoroughly illogical. Stupid, even. All it would take from one oversight is a slight accident, then all the supporting ropes snap and a horde of retards suddenly found themselves fatally incapable of reproduction…

Control.

“Look, mate, about earlier…” his hated companion started.

“I don’t care,” Glancing Shock replied in monotone.

“No, seriously, there’s a lot o’ misconceptions ‘bout us thestrals, an’ I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least put your fears ta’ rest, boyo,” Moon Glade insisted.

The light blue pegasus still didn’t care. His eyes still twitched around him, assessing threats and possible leads, even while his lids remained flat. “We were given a mission. Given recent perturbations in soul magic in the region, it remains likely that this location possesses the highest possibility for locating the human, given the nature of his magic.”

“Look, mate, I know you pony-types can be flighty about meat, and us thestrals are just-”

“I still fail to see the tactical value of what amounts to a wild goose-chase after a being whose primary contribution to Equestria was extensive property damage.”

“-but honestly, boyo, weren’t my intent to set you off any,” Moon Glade continued, mostly telling the truth.

“This task could be performed by any unicorn of sufficient ability, and the fact that the princesses insisted on sending both captains of their guard-”

“Ya' mean the one remaining captain?”

Glancing Shock paused, slowly turning his head towards the bat-winged pony next to him. Moon Glade merely smiled back at him.

“Do you know the first precept required of griffon Bladehunters, Moon Glade?” Shock asked.

Glade’s smile faltered for a millisecond. “Well, a little birdie ‘ere and there told me a few things that were right useful, but-”

“A Bladehunter neither wears nor wields that which he does not kill, collect, or craft himself,” Shock interrupted calmly, taking half a step towards the Night-Captain. He paused, raising a hoof and gazing at it nonchalantly. He buffed it a few times against the front of his scuffed brown brigandine, before setting it down and meeting Moon Glade’s eyes. “My armor is leather. All of it.” The pegasus stallion narrowed his eyes. “Griffon leather. Do you honestly believe I give two shits about your tiny little fangs?”

“Now, boyo, tha’ss just unfair-”

“I spent ten years with a griffon Bladehunter and a dragon. I am one of the only two non-griffon Bladehunters accepted into their ranks. Do you honestly think I give a damn about your place in the food chain when I can kill you ten times over before you blink?”

“Now I wouldn’t say that-”

“I would.” Glancing Shocking eyed Moon Glade levelly for a few seconds, before snorting and turning back to the docks. As he turned, he flicked his tail and a dagger slammed into the wooden deck at the Night Captain’s hoofs.

Glade’s eyes widened slighty, his hoof poking at the hilt of the knife. “Is that-?!”

“One of yours?” Glancing Shock paused, and smirked over his shoulder. He quickly schooled his features back to his lazed, stone-faced mask after a small arc of electricity leapt from his hoof and struck the wooden deck, leaving a small black mark.. “I figured you were fast enough to recognize the Guild’s imprint on your own blade…”

With a snort and an arrogant toss of his white mane, the light blue pegasus turned and began prancing down the boardwalk. And slammed headfirst into a red, elderly stallion, sending the pony sprawling.

“By Celestia’s saggin’ tits, boyo! You tryin’ ta’ kill innocent bystanders, now?”

Glancing Shock quickly shook his head and clenched his jaws, willing his internal magic into a focused sphere in the center of his being. After a few controlled breaths, Shock looked up to see the blood-red stallion stumbling to his feet. He was an older pony, with a few strands of greying hair sneaking into his meticulously styled, straightened charcoal mane. A pair of candy canes, almost forming a heart but never touching, adorned his flanks. On shaky legs, he stood and took a few tentative steps with a noticeable limp in his left forehoof.

The edges of Glancing Shock’s lips creased downward for an instant. “I’m very sorry about that, sir. You appear to be injured. I will send for medical attention immediately.”

The older stallion looked up, surprise painting his features, before letting out a small snort and shaking his head vigorously. “That won’t be necessary, young one. The limp’s an old injury from my time back in the guard. Although if you could help me find my spectacles…”

Moon Glade was next to the pony in an instant, a pair of gold-rimmed glasses held out with one dark grey hoof as he hovered next to him. The stallion glanced over in mild surprise before recovering his glasses and donning them. The Night-Captain’s eyebrows were furrowed and his lips barely curled upwards.

“Ah, many thanks, good…” The red stallion’s gaze danced across Glade’s armor before his eyes widened. “...Oh, the Night-Captain of the Royal Guard himself! This is quite the pleasant surprise!”

“Until you get to know him,” Shock muttered under his breath.

“So,” Moon Glade said, trotting around the older stallion, sizing him up. “Mister…?”

“Sweet Treat,” the older stallion replied, nodding his head towards the candy canes on his flank. “I own a candy store nearby.”

Glade arched his brows. “A candy store in the shipping district?” Glancing Shock held his tongue, even if this was a diversion from their mission. He, too, was a bit curious.

Sweet Treat just chuckled mirthlessly and adjusted his spectacles. “You have no idea how long it took me to convince a bank to give me a loan for my business. When one finally relented, they were surprised at how quickly I paid them back. As it turns out, my initial intuition that sailors returning to port might want to get their fillies and foals a small treat played out extremely well.”

Moon Glade mulled over something for a moment before flashing the red unicorn his bright smile. “Makes a bit o' sense. Oh, and sorry for taking up yer time, Mr. Treat. You sure yer not hurt?”

Sweet Treat smiled wanly and shook his head slightly. “Just an old training injury, Night-Captain Moon Glade. I’m almost glad I got it. Ended my time in the Guard, but left me the free time to open up shop here in Manehatten. Now, I really must get back to my shop, unless you had another question…?”

Glade’s smile broadened and he clapped the elderly unicorn stallion on his good shoulder. “Nah, boyo, yer good to go. Nice meetin’ ya’!”

“Likewise, Night-Captain,” Treat replied, nodding his head slightly before turning and limping his way towards the city proper. Glancing Shock watched him leave, and shook his head slightly.

“I didn’t even see him,” the pegasus said softly, shamefully. His master would be disappointed in him at the slip-up.

“Yeah, neither did I,” Glade responded, his tone wierdly distant. He shook his head and turned towards Glancing Shock. “Well! Anyway, all distractions aside, think we should probly get back ta’ the task at hand, eh, boyo?”

Shock stared at the Night-Captain levelly. “‘Celestia’s sagging tits’? Really?”

The thestral shrugged his leathery wings. “What? The princess has gotta be gettin’ up there in tha’ years, right?”

Glancing Shock merely snorted and began trotting towards the warehouses. “You can take the urchin out of the streets, but you can’t take the streets out of the urchin,” he mumbled to himself.

“No, really. What?” Glade called after him, a grin plastered across his face.

The sunrise in Ponyville painted the sky in a swirling mess of orange, red, and gold, the rays of light from the sun peeking over the horizon seeming to dance on the underside of sleek clouds hovering somberly in the fading, purple sky. If Nix stopped to think about such things, he might be taken by the beauty of the early dawn. Instead, he found himself distracted by the company of a hyperactive pink pony, a small dragon—who was nervously breathing repeated sighs of relief and muttering something about open doors—and a bright green unicorn with a tangled mess of burnt orange curls for a mane. The mare had donned his charcoal trenchcoat in an effort to hide her...well, in an effort to hide the results of a magical curse by the name of “Poison Joke”.

And then, of course, there was the Scion of Death snorting steam from her cream-colored snout in the doorway, the early light of the day silhouetting her clearly pissed off form with an ominous, blood-orange glow.

“Where is the human?!” the adorable harbinger of pain snarled, cracking the wood of the door frame as she pawed her hoof threateningly.

Nix regarded the mare for a second, considered the aching pain in his head and limbs and his seemingly total lack of regenerative power, and turned his pink unicorn head to Pinkie Pie.

“I don’t see a human anywhere. Do you?”

The pink earth pony met his eyes for a few seconds, their deep blue depths seeming to twinkle for a second before she gave him a grin.

“Nope. I don’t see any humans here!”

Bon Bon’s eyes narrowed. “Minotaur Patties!” she screamed. The cream-colored mare began zipping around the room, lifting up random pieces of furniture with disturbing ease. “He’s gotta be here somewhere!” She darted over to Nix, and he felt his unicorn body hefted effortlessly off the ground as her light blue eyes scanned the carpet he had previously occupied. Nix stared at the bouncing curls of pink and dark blue of her mane for a second before clearing his voice. She flinched and jerked her gaze up, her eyes widening as a blush formed on her cheeks. She immediately set Nix down.

“Uh, sorry there, hot stuff,” she said with a meek chuckle, examining a few interesting whorls in the wooden floor. “It’s just this human guy really scared the stuffing outta my best friend.”

“Did he, now?” Nix asked, tilting his head to the side. “And how did he do that?”

“They were apparently attacked by timberwolves and he went overboard. Like, glowy eyes and shadow tentacles overboard.”

“Hmm, I can see why that might be a problem. Do you mind if I talk to your friend?”

Bon Bon’s head snapped up, her mouth pursed tightly and her blue eyes freezilng over in a harsh stare. “And why would you need to do that, Mister...?”

Nix met her glare for a few seconds before dropping his gaze and laughing. The mare’s pout slowly turned into a scowl before Nix met her eyes again, his dark blue irises twinkling mirthfully. “You can call me Bennu. And it’s nothing bad, I promise. It’s just that I’ve got a bit of experience with hunting monsters, and helping out the survivors. I might be able to help your friend.”

Bon Bon drew her head back slowly, her eyes narrowing. “What kinda experience?”

Nix coughed. “Well, I’m visiting here from, uh…”

“Saddle Arabia!” Pinkie chirped.

“...Yes, Saddle Arabia. I was there for years hunting-”

“Gigantic sandworms!” Pinkie interrupted cheerfully.

“Yes, those. And-”

“But,” Bon Bon interjected, “the Eluvian Sandworms have always worked in harmony with ponies, and are historically benevolent!”

“Yes, well-”

“Except when they aren’t!” Pinkie finished ominously, leaning forward and coming uncomfortably close to Bon Bon’s face.

The cream-coloured mare drew back, her eyes flicking between Pinkie Pie and Nix. “Well, if you say so…”

“So it’s settled!” Pinkie cried happily. “It’s a Make Your Bestie Not Be Afraid Of Ridiculously Powerful Dark God-Slash-Awkward Hatchling Thingy Party at your place!”

“P-please don’t,” Bon Bon murmured.

“Too late,” Nix said drily.

The earth pony mare sighed slighly. “Alright, fine. At the very least you might be able to convince her to see a doctor.”

Pinkie let out a loud squeak and leapt into the air. Bits of confetti exploded from random crevasses in the library. Nix stared ahead dully, ignoring the bits of brightly colored paper that peppered his pink coat from the Young Adult shelves, and trotted outside, followed by Pinkie Pie and Ridge Dancer.

Spike looked around at the party-themed mayhem now littering the floor. “No way I’m gonna clean all this up,” he grumbled to himself. He followed the mares and the human-turned-unicorn out into the light of the early morning. The library was silent for a few seconds before Pinkie zipped back inside.

“Almost forgot~!” she sing-songed, grabbing the broken door and slamming it back into its frame awkwardly with a loud bang! She hammered her hooves around its edges, bending the wood in ways that wood should not bend and effectively wedging it into place at a 45-degree angle. She pulled back, cocking her head and appraising her work, one hoof raised and her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth in deep concentration.

“Perfect!”

She leapt out of a conveniently open side-window and caught up with Nix and Bon Bon shortly before a crash erupted from upstairs.

“Enough!” a ragged voice screamed after a loud bang erupted from upstairs. Trixie Lulamoon trotted up to the balcony and reared up, placing her hooves on the balcony as her guest room door still tremored from its impact with the wall. “Trixie demands some peace and quiet for her beauty rest. How else will I make my grand Comeback Tour if the constant noise at early hours of the morning-”

Scritchscritchscritchscritch.

“-what is…?” Trixie turned and found her vision subsumed by two mismatched eyes, one a glowing teal, the other a milky, dull white. She jerked her head back and found herself snout to muzzle with a timberwolf that matched her in size, staring at her with its leafy tongue lolling out of the side of its teeth-lined maw.

Trixie let loose a bloodcurdling scream and sprinted back into her room, slamming the door shut behind her. The timberwolf frowned and whined, before trotting up to her door and lying down, it’s tail still lazily wagging and dragging across the floor.

Scritchscritchscritchscritch.

As the timberwolf’s unsatisfied whining died down, a few of the darker whorls of wood on the far side of the ceiling shimmered, then began undulating as they coalesced into vaguely serpentine form. A few malevolent chuckles reverberated through the empty library before the lines in the wood began to pulse out from the wood. A talon grew out from the wood itself, and a paw burst out beside it in a small explosion of splinters. The two appendages tensed, their sharper digits digging into the wood before the wood rippled like water and a dragonequus burst from the ceiling with a loud pop!

Discord floated down from the ceiling, ignoring the timberwolf on the upper floor who had completely missed detecting his presence. His limbs held his stomach as he let out a few more laughs, before he hissed and his talon found itself cradling his forehead. The red in his eyes flashed green for a second, two seconds, before settling back to their normal blood red.

‘We need to talk.’

“Tch, against the rules.”

‘Well, so are you. Never stopped you before.’

“Fool boy,” the dragonequus growled. “You don’t understand. If they hear-”

‘-the ‘Lord of Chaos’ talking to himself in a building the Newbie just left?’

Discord frowned. He was beginning to regret freeing this particular consciousness. Even if said consciousness had managed to trick Death itself. Much as he loved a good romp, the being’s constant nagging was proving to be more of an annoyance than entertaining. He sighed to himself.

“Fine, fine. But we do this in private,” he said with a wave of his paw. “Mostly,” he muttered, disappearing in a flash of light with a snap of his fingers.

As the bell hanging over the thick hardwood door at the entrance clanged with a dull chime, the bartender barely glanced up through his pair of thin-rimmed spectacles before returning to polishing the beer mug in his hooves. After a brief moment, he paused his ministrations, and slowly looked back towards the entrance. Discord stood in the entry way, a lopsided grin on his face as he swayed lightly from side to side.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” the pony growled out.

“Oh, bartender,” the dragonequus slurred out in a thick tone, swaying slightly more as he stumbled towards the bar. “I could *hic* really use a drink right about now…”

The bartender’s eyes narrowed and his spectacles seemed to gain a white glow. “You. Are not. Supposed to be here.”

Discord cocked an eyebrow. “My, my, such intensity.” He made a dismissive wave with his paw, turning away from the pony and leaning back against the bar. “I’m not here about that, trust me. And the ‘me’ in that reality doesn’t even know about this place existing.” He craned his neck backwards until his head was upside down and met the bartender’s eyes. “Honestly, do you have any idea how annoying it is to shut off most of my personalities when I come here? It gets far too quiet for my liking up here,” he said, tapping his forehead with his talon.

‘Not quiet enough for my liking,’ an errant thought burned through the chaos god’s mind. The dragonequus let out an annoyed hiss as his eyes flashed green again.

The bartender stared at him evenly for a second, before frowning and returning his attention to cleaning the glass in his hooves. “Whatever. What’ll it be?”

“Hmm, I’ll take a glass of cotton candy and-” He paused and hammered on his chest for a second, coughing a few times. “Sorry, this’ll only take a-” Discord wretched twice before a human with dark brown hair and an impeccably tailored suit slid out of his mouth and onto the next barstool. More than a bit of saliva followed suit, drenching the man in a goopy mess.

The human slowly raised his hands and looked down at himself, his mouth twisting in revulsion as he took note of the fluid that coated him. He slowly turned a pair of vibrant jade eyes towards the dragonequus. “Disgusting,” he hissed.

“Now, now, Loki. You know how I get when I’ve had a bit too much to drink.”

“You haven’t drank anything, yet,” the bartender said in a gravelly voice.

Loki continued to glare at the chaos god until Discord rolled his eyes and snapped his talons. The saliva disappeared in an instant. “Like I was saying, I’ll take a glass of cotton candy, and my dear confidante here will probably want mead or something.”

Loki’s scowl lessened. “Shot of tequila, actually,” he stated, earning a raised eyebrow from the dragonequus. “What? I’m not some Norse trickster god, anymore. These days, I can’t even sense what was supposed to be my godsoul. To be honest, I’m half convinced I’m some sort of homunculus you created for shits and giggles. And even if I were Newbie’s Loki, no way in Hel would I do something as predictable as, ugh, mead.”

Discord eyed the trickster god warily for a second before shrugging. The pair grabbed their drinks of choice and headed over to a secluded booth in the corner, where the shadows bloomed far more prominently than the already dimly illuminated interior of the 8-Bits Bar. Once they were seated, Discord clapped his paw and his talon together, smiling broadly.

“First off, to the best of my knowledge, you are very much the same Loki that your good pal Nix knew and failed to save. Your presence in Tartarus before I freed you is proof enough of that.”

“Yes, ‘freed’,” Loki replied, deadpan.

“No need to pout. Your presence in my noggin is almost a necessity to maintain certain levels of Harmony in this reality, to avoid the attention of beings both you and I would probably rather avoid. Honestly, they’re annoyed enough already that I’m on one of their so-called ‘keystone worlds’,” Discord said, making air quotes. He leaned forward and his lips split in a toothy grin. “If I could get away with it, I would love to turn you loose and see what sort of shenanigans you got up to.” His grin quickly faded, however. “But again, between Nix arriving here and nearly shattering existence as the denizens here know it, I’m afraid for now you’ll just have deal with being a bit cramped up with the trillion or so other Discords that are in my head.”

Loki sighed. “Fine. What’s another ten thousand years with a tactless fool, anyway?”

Discord’s smile returned. “Splendid! I’m so glad we got that nasty business out of the way. So, now that we’re safe from prying ears...relatively speaking...” the chaos god said, shooting a glance towards the bartender on the far side of the room, “what was it you wanted to talk about, exactly? Surely you didn’t insist upon this little soiree because of an existential crisis.”

“Right, that,” Loki said, pausing and meeting the dragonequus’s eyes with a serious gaze. “You’re going to piss him off, and it isn’t going to end well.”

Discord merely arched an eyebrow.

“Nix. You’re going to piss him off. And, trust me, that is probably the last thing you should do. You have no idea just how powerful he was when I knew him, and if he truly freed the lifeforce that Sammael had imprisoned and has it at his beck and call, I’m not even sure I know how powerful he is, anymore. ”

“The ‘lifeforce’ Nix possesses?” Discord smirked, resting his elbows on the table in front of him and steepling his fingers. “And how, pray tell, would I anger the resident godslayer with my actions, enough to get him to bring his,” Discord coughed, “fearsome power to bear?”

Loki grabbed the shot glass of tequila in front of him and brought it halfway to his lips. He gazed at the amber liquid for a moment before looking up. “You’re underestimating him.”

Discord chuckled. “I don’t think I am.” He grabbed his glass of...cotton candy, eyed it for a second before—with a wink towards the ex-god across the booth—tossing the entire thing into his mouth and biting into it with a crunch. “Still, most of the reason I bother to keep you around is to help me facilitate Nix’s...naturalization into Equestria.” A few more mastications, a few more tinkling sounds, and Discord swallowed the glass of pink cotton candy. “He did create the place, after all, even if most of its inhabitants showed up after a few of the Greater Aions found out about it.”

At this last bit, Loki’s eyes widened slightly and he cocked his head to the side, but Discord waved off his confusion. “It’s irrelevant. How are my actions going to anger Nix?”

Loki’s eyes flicked back to the shot glass in his hand before he continued. “If Nix realizes he’s being manipulated, he’ll probably become violent.” Loki met the dragonequus’s red and yellow eyes, his own emerald irises hard as glittering gemstones. “A large part of the reason he became a quote-unquote ‘godslayer’ in the first place is because seeing the numerous immortals around him preying upon the mortals drove him into a fury. He recognizes on an intellectual level that, sometimes, the intervention of gods into mortal affairs is necessary. That’s probably why your two pony princesses are still alive. At the same time, though, if he thinks he himself is being manipulated? I can’t say what he’s been through in the years after I ‘died’, but the last time Nix was treated like some sort of marionette, he went to war against the most powerful god of our reality, one that had already beaten every other pantheon of gods on our world into submission.” Loki paused, swirling his tequila a bit and frowning. “And from what you’ve...allowed me to know…he not only killed Sammael, but he utterly destroyed the godsoul itself.”

“I’m sure you’ll get to the point eventually, but I’d rather not spend my eternal life to get there,” Discord groused.

“You keep shielding him from his power. From the lifeforce.”

A black mustache and curly black hair flashed into existence on the dragonequus. “You keep using that word, ‘lifeforce’. I do not think it means what you think it means,” he said in a heavily accented voice. “Also, have you seen a six-fingered man?”

“Look, Discord. I know you’re the god of chaos, and this is kind of your schtick, but this isn’t a fucking joke,” Loki said. “Nix was trained by a goddess of war, the greatest swordsman to have ever existed in my world, and my own father. Even without the use of his full power, he’s probably the most dangerous thing you’ve ever encountered, and the second he figures out it’s you shielding him from the lifeforce of our reality, and that you’re pulling his strings for shits and giggles, he’s gonna come after you, and there’s a good chance this world is going to suffer for it.”

Discord gasped, his appearance returning to normal. Well, his version of normal, anyway. “As touched as I am by your concern, I fear you misunderstand. I’m not shielding his power at all. His lack of attunement with this reality is the root of the problem, but his current inability to utilize his power is mostly due to his physical form. Ponies are, by nature, only capable of utilizing Harmony magic. There are exceptions, usually due to outside interference, but creatures the likes of, say, King Sombra, are the exception, not the rule.”

He folded his hands and leaned forward, his grin widening. “Nix is the only one of his kind that draws upon both Chaos and Harmony, but in his present physical state he’s only capable of channeling Harmony, like any other average pony.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed and he set his tequila down. “His...kind?”

Discord chuckled and leaned back. “I think after a bit of story time, you might be a bit less inclined to oh-so-rudely inveigle yourself in my actions. Just listen.” The dragonequus closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

“In the beginning-”

“In the name of the fucking All-Father, don’t ever start a story like that,” Loki interrupted harshly. “Hated that book,” he added in a low grumble.

Discord gave the well-dressed trickster an amused glance before closing his eyes and continuing. “Before time existed, there was One. With a capital ‘o’, mind you, for dramatic effect. This being, I suppose you might call it, was perfect beyond comprehension, be it of a mortal mind or a god’s. I suppose, if you like, you could call it God, with a capital ‘g’. Put another way, it was everything your old buddy Sammael aspired to be, but never could. It didn’t have imperfections not because it was too good for them; ‘good’ or ‘bad’ were below this particular entity. Because the very concept of imperfection was foreign to this God—let’s call it the Monad—imperfection was incapable of existing in its presence.

“Time did not exist for the Monad. Existence didn’t exist for the Monad. The Monad simply was, a Harmony greater than any you could find in any existence, including the present one with terribly harmonious, prancing little equines. A being for whom the word Harmony was merely a sloppy facsimile of its perfection.

“Well, you’re getting the summarized version, here. Suffice to say that the Monad created the Aions, or more specifically, emanated them out as a result of its own nature. And from the Aions and the innocence of one in particular by the name of Sophia, all creation was born. All creations except for one, in fact. Every reality. However, Sophia was not the Monad, and her actions, her white sin, resulted in every reality being flawed. Complicating the matter was the creation of life. On every reality, there were beings that were neither of the Monad nor of the Aions the Monad had sired. They were souls encased in physical shells, trapped on a lower plane of existence. Furthermore, in many realities they were beset by powerful beings that only possessed fragments of the godsoul of an Aion—you, Loki, know of them as Archons.” Discord paused for a second, before muttering, “As annoying as you are I’d be surprised if you weren’t one of them, but I digress.”

The dragonequus continued. “To the Monad, imperfection was anathema to its very existence, but at the same time it was, well, perfect. Of course infinite mercy was part of the package. These mortals could not exist next to a perfect being, nor could Sophia suffer punishment for her errors. Infinite mercy, and all. However, such actions flied in the face of the Monad’s very being. It could either abolish all imperfection, and return to it’s immutably perfect state...or it could indulge its mercy.

“When the Monad broke itself to preserve the existence of mortals and the life of its adored daughter Sophia, the paradox of its perfection versus the suffering of an infinite number of flawed existences splintered it into countless fragments. That was also the day I came into being, or rather, was given a consciousness, in case you’re curious.”

“I wasn’t,” Loki replied drily, but Discord ignored him.

“Over time, these fragments have been slowly gathering, joining, melding together. The Monad is perfection beyond words, Harmony without restraint. In the act of effectively destroying itself, I was created from the desire that said perfect Harmony is never acheived, lest all mortal souls cease to exist and Sophia suffers punishment for her crimes. The Monad knew of the inevitability that it would gather itself again if all realities were left to their own devices, and thus I was...emanated...into existence to intercede and prevent such a fate from occurring.

“To that end, I took a fragment out of the countless that had splintered from the Monad, and I imbued it with a piece of my very nature. I imbued it with chaos. Then, I split my mind and spread out across all realities, watching and nudging here and there as I felt necessary.”

Discord sighed heavily, and his features seemed to sag. He gave Loki a tired look. “That was...quadrillions upon quadrillions of years ago. I’m sure you know more than most how irrelevant time is to an immortal, though.”

Loki considered it for a moment before nodding slowly. He had spent ten millennia locked in this chaos god’s head after escaping from Tartarus, but he had spent most of the time dormant, sleeping away the years that he found unimportant. If he had possessed the mental faculties of a mortal, he would have gone insane a long time ago. He shuddered, and wondered briefly how Nix had managed. He shifted the shot glass of tequila on the table a few inches and fumbled in the breast pocket of his jacket for a smoke. He placed the cancer stick in his mouth and brought his palm to the tip before frowning after a few seconds.

Discord grinned. “Performance issues?”

“Fuck off,” Loki said dully, the unlit cigarette dancing around from the corner of his mouth. “I forgot, no godsoul.”

“Well then, allow me!” With a snap of his fingers, Discord made the first half of the cigarette explode like a firecracker. With a measured breath, Loki ignored the display and drew deeply on the smoke. Eventually, the few errant embers that remained on the frazzled tip of his cigarette caught, and his lungs dilated with the familiar, heavy burning of nicotine and smoke.

“That’s a nice story, and I’m sure one of those limbs of yours finds its way to your back when you wake up every morning for saving all creation. Still doesn’t answer my original question,” Loki said, blowing out a puff of smoke and adjusting his glass of tequila again.

The dragonequus chuckled mirthlessly. “At the start, there were countless fragments, but over time, and timelessness, there’s now only four fragments left. The one I originally imbued with Chaos presently resides in a mutual acquaintance of ours. Nix isn’t utilizing the ‘lifeforce of the universe’ or some hippy nonsense. Honestly, if you actually believed that, you might as well start praying to Gaia and trying to heal people with crystals or some nonsense.”

“Hey, I knew Gaia. She was a really nice goddess,” Loki said, unable to repress a small smile. “And if you saw her rack, you’d probably start praying to her, too. But again, answers?”

Discord frowned. “You know, for a trickster god, you’re really not that good at piecing things together.”

“It was a lot easier when I had access to my godsoul to augment my intellectual capabilities, to be honest,” Loki admitted, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Look, I get Nix is one of these four fragments. What of it?”

The dragonequus sighed and muttered, “Why did I ever bother freeing you?” Loki pretended not to hear.

“Look,” Discord said pointedly, “if I tell you, will you promise to stop interfering with me out there?” The chaos god motioned towards the bar door. “We’ve already probably raised a few red flags with the Aions that came in and renovated the place after your friend Nix accidentally created it. If one of the other fragments catches on, as well…” Discord pursed his lips and let out a sigh. “Well, let’s just hope it isn’t Byakko.” He leveled a sober stare at Loki. “Look, you’re here mostly for consultation. We need to get your fiery friend back to full power before some of the nastier things that are after him catch up. You interfering physically with Equestria itself may as well be like firing signal flares into interdimensional space bringing a great many powerful beings here, and if Nix loses this place, there may as well just be three fragments left instead of four.”

“Stop fucking with you to protect the newbie. Got it.” Loki lifted his glass of tequila to his lips. “Although it’s hard to stay dormant with all those other voices.”

Discord chuckled. “You get used to them after an interminable eternity or so. If it really bothers you that much, you’re welcome to stay here, for a while. The 8-Bits Bar is a bit under the radar, and I can enchant the door to send you back to my noggin the second you decide to head back to Equus.”

Loki raised his eyebrows and dropped the still-full shot glass from his lips. “Really?”

The dragonequus nodded. “So long as you behave, that is.”

Loki flashed a bright white smile and placed his right hand over the breast pocket of his perfectly tailored, black suit coat. “Scout’s honor.”

Discord’s eyes narrowed slightly at the display, but he nodded once and pushed himself away from the table and through the back of the booth behind him. The objects wavered like water, and he began backstroking through the bar towards the door. Every time a limb brushed against a physical object it sent liquid ripples through the item’s surface before they settled again. The bartender scowled at the display, but remained quiet. Loki ignored the antics, gazing quietly into the amber spirits in the shot glass on the table.

The second he felt the dragonequus’s essence disappear from the pocket reality of the 8-Bits, his face shot up and the irises of his eyes began to glow a bright green. He grinned at the familiar surge of power. He immediately scanned the door exiting the bar, and let out an annoyed huff. The weaves that would entrap him and send him back to the dragonequus’s mind were sloppy, and childish. He clucked his tongue. The poor god of chaos had no idea who he was dealing with.

He looked back to his full shot glass of tequila with a grimace, and slowly pushed the awful drink to the corner of the table. He clasped his hands together and drew more deeply on his power, grinning to himself.

Whether it’s stealing expectations, dignity, or physical items, a good trickster is a good thief, and a thief is only as good as their ability get away with it. Loki had gotten away from Death a long time ago—that much Discord knew. But the dragonequus wasn’t a trickster, he didn’t have the nature for it. He never asked what Loki stole in the first place…

As the well-dressed god began to pull his hands apart, a bit of his black bo staff appeared from between his palms, the edges of it crackling with arcs of electricity before Loki clapped his hands shut, sending his preferred weapon back to a pocket in subspace. He looked up at the bartender, who was still polishing his glass, but giving him a cautious look nonetheless.

Loki was a very, very good thief. Escaping Death was fairly easy. But doing it while stealing his own godsoul?

As he plucked another smoke out of his pocket and placed it in his mouth, the trickster god’s smile widened. He raised a hand and a small ball of green flame ignited the tip of his cigarette. God, he loved his job.

“Bartender!” he barked. “A glass of your finest honeyed mead, if you will.”

Author's Notes:

I had to cut this chapter shorter than I would have preferred. Discord and Loki's conversation went on for quite a bit longer than I expected. As a result, you're gonna have to wait for Vinyl, Lyra, and Luna until the next chapter. You'll also be getting another character, too...you'll see. I'm also highly annoyed that I couldn't include the next fragment of Nix's memories with Athena, but trust me, that'll get fully developed in time. There should be at least one such memory the next chapter. Depending on the length of the next chapter's scenes, you may also see Nix treated to a bit of Night Court. After wrapping up those little bits, though?

I figure I should try my hand at writing more action. Said action involves explosions. A lot of explosions. Since I've almost got everything in place, the pace of the narrative should escalate pretty drastically over the next few chapters. (Finally.)

As always, sorry my writing sucks and that my update rate is abysmal, and thank you all deeply for enjoying my story. I'd have given up ever considering being a writer if it wasn't for all of your praise.

Finally, special thanks to Señor Cage Stew for the use of the 8-Bits Bar, as featured in his story I Hate You All. The next time we see it, methinks Nix may meet up with a certain misanthropic human under the effects of a sporadic sex-change. (Don't ask...just read.) That'll be a bit yet, though.

Seriously, though. Thank all of you. I'll try and do better.