Two days passed. At least, Starfire thought it was two days: Living in permanent darkness, it was hard to tell when one day ended and another began.

Eventually, an emergency town meeting was called to deal with the problem. Starfire noticed that the town hall was in a much worse state than it was when he had entered it two nights prior to this. The colourful equestrian banners that once hung proudly on the panelled walls now lay in unfolded piles, trampled by muddy hooves into the floor, ripped and ragged. Several of the stained glass windows were shattered, shards of jagged pink glass littering the ground. The majority of the furniture was overturned and splintered, and most of the foodstuffs that had been on offer or the event looked far less appetising now that they were plastered down the walls and stuck to the ceiling. It was the wanton destruction of the very residents of the town that had caused such careless devastation, and not Nightmare Moon herself.

The mayor, surrounded by her personal bodyguards, took to the cluttered stage. Her appearance was haggard: her grey mane, usually so proper and professional looking, rivalled that of a tramp's with random locks of hair jutting out in an ever-so-unsightly manner. Her eyes, bloodshot and sleepless, darted to and fro like a butterfly trapped in a jam jar. It was obvious she hadn’t slept well.

Once everypony was present, and had settled down, she began. “My fellow townspeople,” her voice was groggy and wavering. “As you are well aware, Nightmare Moon...”

Everypony in the room, obviously as sleep-deprived as the mayor, screamed in terror, nearly trashing the hall for a second time.

“She’s not here right now!” the earth pony had to screech over the noise. All chaos ceased.

“As I was saying, Nightmare Moon returned for the first time in 1000 years two days ago...”

“Two NIGHTS ago, actually.” Somepony near the back corrected her.

“Two nights ago, Nightmare Moon returned and brought about eternal night, kidnapping our glorious leader Princess Celestia in the process. Not only that,” she continued, “But six of our own citizens, who heroically set out to stop her, have not returned!”

Weatherstorm grimaced. Rarity was somewhere out there, being held hostage by some wicked villain, scared and confused and...

...dirty. The stallion shuddered at the thought. Grime was her worst fear, without a shadow of a doubt.

“Why did you tell your aunt?” Weatherstorm whispered to Cananor. “That information was strictly confidential!”

Cananor shrugged. “Then why did you tell me?”

The Pegasus didn’t quite know why he told his blabbermouth of a friend. Maybe it was just his reporter’s instincts of wanting to share little-known news with everypony.

“So far, no ransom has been made. I think I speak for everypony when I say... we shall not tolerate this!” She mustered up some strength to stamp her hoof in defiance, nearly toppling onto her side doing so. “We will not just let her take our sun and our princess, and then our fellow townspeople!”

“Hear, hear!” clopped the crowds in agreement. “Hear, hear!”

“Which is why we have decided to take action. Equestria needs a hero, and I can think of nopony better suited than the wonderful...”

Belove’s ears pricked up as soon as the word ‘hero’ was mentioned. She could only have been referring to him: Belove, the best soldier in all of Ponyville!

“...The amazing...”

Belove felt his smug grin grow wider. He WAS pretty amazing, after all.

“...The handsome...”

Belove lifted his head higher with pride. He WAS pretty handsome, for sure.

“...The athletic...”

Belove flexed his muscular biceps. He WAS pretty athletic, certainly.

“...A stallion who has saved Equestria countless times...”

It’s true, it’s true.

“...Captain Icarus!”

The guard’s face dropped like a ton of bricks as the pony in question valiantly swooped down onto the centre stage, without so much as breaking a sweat. He shook his long, golden mane twice, the candlelight causing it to shine like the medallions he had proudly pinned to his chestpiece. He nodded in acknowledgement to the mayor, flashing his blindingly white teeth.

“Thank you, Mayor,” the captain gave a courteous bow to the earth pony. “Citizens of Ponyville!” he boomed, his voice silky and light yet powerful and commanding. “These are dark times as of late. But as the princess’s personal bodyguard, I hope to shepherd us out of this darkness, and into the light of a new era! I, and my close companions,” he gestured his hoof over the five other Royal Bodyguards standing in the front row, all looking as faultless as their leader. “Have devised a cunning plan to defeat this, ‘Nightmare Moon,’ save our princess and,” he smirked. “The six damsels in distress. We ride for the Everfree Forest... tonight!”

Ponies cheered and cried his name, throwing their hooves up in praise. A few of the stallions cheered. Most of the mares squealed. One or two fainted. Belove booed.

The room grew deathly silent as his jeers cut through the cheers like a hot knife through butter. Weatherstorm cringed for a second time at the awkwardness of the situation, a silent room apart from the booing of one solitary pony. Belove had embarrassed him for as long as he had known him, and tonight was far from exception.

“Boo!” the dark red earth pony cupped his hooves around his muzzle and hissed. “Boo!”

Once he was satisfied with the attention he was getting, Belove spoke directly to Captain Icarus, who was decent enough to let him voice his opposition. The snow-white Pegasus didn’t seem at all fazed by the intrusion: in fact, his confident simper suggested he welcomed it. “Sir, if you find fault with anything I am saying, then you are within your rights to challenge me. You may say what you wish, and we shall listen.” His perfectly calm tone further angered the guard.

“Don’t you patronise me!” Belove barked. “And cut the act, the cheek of ya. The Summer Sun Celebration was held in Ponyville. Nightmare Moon appeared in Ponyville. The princess was kidnapped from Ponyville, and those six mares that went missing were citizens of... aye, you guessed it, Ponyville! If anypony should be mounting a rescue operation, then it should be us,” his chest swelled with pride. “The Ponyville guard! We can do just fine without you Canterlot folk.”

The Captain trotted over to the edge of the stage, facing Belove head on. His breath smelt sickeningly sweet, like daisies and lavender. His dark green eyes, like deep pools of shimmering water, met his. “But friend...”

He was reminded that Belove was not his friend.

“Sir...”

Nor a sir.

“But please hear me out. Bringing the entire Ponyville guard is not the answer! Whilst I have no doubt that you and your squadmates can handle the situation, Nightmare Moon will hear you coming and sense your presence. The fewer ponies there are, the less chance there is of being detected."

“Then only a hoof-full of us will go.” Belove turned to his fellow Ponyville guard squadmates, all of whom where shifting uncomfortably, their heavy plate armour clanking with every movement. “Who here is sick of spending their days settling petty crimes? Who here is sick of Captain Icarus lapping up all of the praise? Who thinks that it is our turn to save Equestria? Who among you will join me to the Everfree forest?”

To his surprise, not a single hoof was raised. At first, Belove wasn’t exactly sure how to react. He felt shocked at first, then saddened at his friends’ fragile sense of comradeship, and then this slowly turned to not only anger, but disgust. He felt all of these emotions in less than a second, which was one second longer than he needed to say something he would regret later.

Reeling from his recent rejection, Belove huffed and threw down his hoof in rage. ”Fine!” he snorted, blowing wisps of condensation into the good captain’s face. “Since my fellow guards are too CHICKEN to help, sure, I guess I’ll go save Equestria alone.”

Captain Icarus’ expression remained unfazed, as did his tone, but he at least seemed verbally opposed to the idea. “I would advise against it, sir. One lone pony cannot hope to last for long in the Everfree Forest, let alone face an all powerful being like Nightmare Moon. That would be difficult even for an experienced soldier such as myself.”

“By Celestia’s mane,” Belove swore, shocked ponies recoiling in horror. “You are so full of yourself. I’ll show you!” He span around, his hoof outstretched in accusation to the onlookers of the little spectacle. “I’ll show all of you! It’ll be ME that saves Equestria, not HIM. And I will bring honour to the Ponyville guard, unlike these COWARDS!” He left for the door.

Captain Icarus was suddenly blocking his path. Belove wasn’t sure how he got from the stage to directly in front of his so quickly, and silently. It was almost as though he appeared in a flash of lightning: his wings were either unnaturally fast, or he was magic. Were that the case, it wouldn’t have surprised the earth pony in the slightest; he was ‘spectacular’ after all.

“I beg you to reconsider,” the grim faced captain stated coldly, emotionlessly. He placed a gentle but firm hoof on Belove’s shoulder. “I do not wish for a fine soldier such as yourself to get hurt.”

His efforts were met only by hostility. Belove jerked his body away from the captain’s grip with a sharp grunt. “Your honeyed words won’t work on me, and you can’t stop me. I am my own pony, and I can do what I want.”

“If I cannot persuade you to stay,” Icarus stuck his hoof out and gave him a somewhat false smile. “Then I wish you all the best in your adventure, Lovely.”

Belove slapped the hoof out of his face and stormed out of the hall with one last bellow, "The name is BELOVE, ponies! Remember it!"

An awkward silence followed the guard’s stormy departure. If Belove had but one talent, Weatherstorm would say it was making uncomfortable, awkward atmospheres.

“Well,” Captain Icarus bellowed. “I hope he fares well on his journey. And soon, I shall undertake mine.”

Mayor Mare cleared her throat with a raspy cough, little particles of spittle visible in the moonlight. “Please give one more round of applause for Captain Icarus and his men!”

A monumentous cheer rose from the crowd, all chanting his name like he was a god. “IC-AR-US!” They screamed, breaking his name up slowly into three syllables. “IC-AR-US!” The captain, making his way back to the centre stage, seemed to enjoy being in the spotlight. His gloating smile grew larger every time his name left their lips. He inhaled sharply, his head held high with pride. “Now, now,” he grinned. “I am but doing my duty. I deserve no admiration, I assure you.” Weatherstorm could tell straight away that he was lying, of course. He lapped up their admiration and secretly wished for more. Belove was wrong about most things, but he was right about Icarus; the pony was a poser, through and through. Another mare collapsed, fainting in his presence. It seemed to be a common occurrence.

Weatherstorm pushed his way out of the swarm of praising ponies and shot out of the front door. He had to catch up with Belove, and fast. The guard was the hasty type and wasted little time; he just hoped he hadn’t left for the Everfree forest already.

As it turned out, he hadn’t gotten very far. The earth pony was furiously packing his bags when a knock came to his front door. “Come in.”

Weatherstorm nudged the wooden door open with his nuzzle. Belove lived in a ‘modest’ accommodation, and that was being generous. The tiny guardhouse bunk had barely enough room for a table, one chair, a few shelves cluttered with useless junk, a cupboard, an armour stand, an empty hearth, an oak footlocker at the edge of the bed and of course, the bed itself.

The bed creaked in protest as Weatherstorm lowered himself onto the messy duvet, beside his friend. “Listen, Belove,” he began, knowing better than to place a hoof on the guard’s shoulder. “You really need to re-think this. I don’t mean to hurt your pride, but you won’t last out there in the wilderness. You know it and I know it. Please stay.”

Belove crammed a can of what seemed like oats into his saddlebag, but didn’t look up. “I’ll survive just fine.” His voice was gruff and flat. If Weatherstorm didn’t know his friend better, he could have sworn he had been crying. “I have training.”

“Indeed, but no experience. I understand you dislike Icarus, and I do to, but...”

“He’s in love with Rarity, you know.”

The interruption caught Weatherstorm off-guard. “Wha... What?”

“You didn’t get a good look at him at the Summer Sun Celebration, but I did. And he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her.”

“He looks at every mare like that,” Weatherstorm laughed nervously, lowering his gaze to the floor. “You know how he behaves in Canterlot.”

“Exactly,” Belove lowered his silver helmet onto his head and adjusted the straps. “He’ll play the knight in shining armour, save her, she’ll fall in love with him, they’ll marry, and then he’ll ditch her the moment another good looking mare passes his way.”

Weatherstorm kicked at the ground with a restless hoof, scattering little particles of dust. For all his faults, Belove was a fairly house-proud pony, what with military stallions having a reputation of keeping their quarters ship-shape, but something had obviously been playing at his mind as of late. “You don’t think she’ll actually fall for... HIM, do you?”

Belove scoffed mockingly. “’Stormy, you’re naive. Why wouldn’t she fall for her saviour, a stallion with a fancy uniform, well paid job, a mansion in Canterlot and a constant place in the spotlight? How do you compare to him, with your puny wings and underdeveloped muscles? No offense.”

Not surprisingly, the Pegasus frowned. “Quite a considerable amount taken. However, I can see your point.”

“Then join me.” The guard ordered sternly. “If we save Equestria, YOU’LL be her knight in shining armour. She falls in love with you, I get showered in wealth and fame... We’re all happy!”

“I... I’m not sure, Belove. I don’t...”

“Do you want Rarity?” The earth pony spat out. “Or do you want that sleazeball to use her?”

“She’s a lady, not a possession. She’s perfectly capable...”

“DO YOU WANT HIM TO USE HER?”

“Heavens, no!”

Belove thrust his hoof out. “Come with me.”

The blue Pegasus hesitated for a second, giving that outstretched hoof a look that spoke volumes of discontent. With a weary sigh, he wrapped his hoof around his friends’. “I guess I’ll come with you. You know what they say: if you can’t beat them, join them!” His smile dissolved. “You know we’ll likely perish out there, do you not?”

“Then we’ll go as a team: the two of us, against the world.”

“Three, actually,” came the Fillydelphian accented voice from the open doorway. “But I’d rather not partake in the perishing part.”

Belove eyed the newcomer sceptically. “Do you like eavesdropping on me? That’s twice now.”

“I’m sorry,” Starfire apologised. I should have knocked. “I couldn’t help but follow Weatherstorm here after you made your... exit.”

The earth pony finished his packing, closing the flap over his leather saddlebag. “And why do you want to come, um...”

“Starfire.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Why do you want to come with us?” The guard slid off his bed and onto all fours. “Are you a spy?”

Starfire laughed and levitated the saddlebags onto Belove’s back. “A spy? That’s a little farfetched, isn’t it?”

“Icarus will probably do anything to make sure I fail. Even sabotage.” The earth pony gloated. “He’s scared I’ll make him look like an idiot. Scared I’ll get his job after I save Equestria.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think he sees you as much of threat to his career. I’m no spy. I want to help.” The unicorn took one step into the room and, after seeing no attempt was made to remove him from the building, another. “Let me help you.”

“And how can you help us?” Belove sneered. “I don’t know you all that well, but you seem a nerd to me. And I have no use for nerds.”

“You’re bringing him,” Starfire joked, dryly. He didn’t need to point at the pony he was referencing. “I would be happy to let Captain Icarus sort out all this unpleasantness, but he doesn’t know his enemy well enough. Nightmare Moon is like nothing he will have faced before. He doesn’t know her history, her weaknesses. Neither do you. But I do.”

Belove narrowed his eyes sceptically. “And how do you know so much about this Nightmare character?”

“We don’t have time. I can either help you, or help Icarus. You seem like the lesser of two evils, but I can go on my own if I have to.”

Belove sighed and seemed to weigh each option out an either hoof. “Fine.” He finally spat out like it pained him to say the word. “You can come. But hear me out: I don’t trust you and I like you even less. You seem one of those know-it-all types.” He fastened his saddlebag straps and made for the door.

Starfire stopped him. “And you hear me out: there is too much at stake here for me to be drawn into your petty rivalry with Captain Icarus. The future of Equestria hangs in the balance, and I don’t think you realise that.”

Belove snarled. He certainly did not like, nor was accustomed to, being spoken to in this way. And certainly not by some egghead newcomer. “I suggest you all pack for the journey. We’ll meet up at the road out of town in an hour. The sooner we leave, the more of a distance we’ll put between Icarus and ourselves.” With that, he left.

Weatherstorm waited until the stallion, and his trail of smoke, left before laughing. “I fear you may have annoyed him somewhat.”

Starfire's face remained stern. “I got the same impression.”

“So,” The Pegasus clapped his hooves together. “Why are you so willing to embark on this foolish quest?”

“Why are you?” Starfire shot back.

“Because I am a fool. And I asked you first.”

Starfire shrugged nonchalantly. “Not for any personal gain. You know I would rather let somepony else sort the whole situation out...”

“...But you can’t sit idly by when you know you can help.” Weatherstorm finished. “Just like the incident at the Summer Sun Celebration, when you helped me with that piano. You could have easily let me drop it, but you didn’t. You went out of your way to help. It’s in your nature.”

“I... I guess. Icarus seems like the sort of pony who could handle himself, but his charming demeanour and brute strengh will get him nowhere against Nightmare Moon. Ponies like that become too confident in their own ability, and that leads to failure." He didn't like the 'F' word. "I hope Belove’s own self confidence doesn’t do the same for us.

The journalist nodded his head. “As do I. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have packing to attend to. But it’s a pleasure to have you on board, Starfire. Celestia knows I could not cope with but Belove for company.”

They laughed and went their separate ways, filled with both eager optimism and an unshakable sense of dread.

“He probably won’t last five minutes,” Cananor told Derky. It sounded rather harsh after he said it, but it was the truth. “He is acting like an idiot, if you ask me. Gonna get eaten by a feral rabbit or something, lots of meat to gnaw on.”

Derky took in a few gulping mouthfuls of air. It felt good to get out of the cramped and crowded hall and into the open town square, where he could finally stretch his wings. Behind him, the crowds continued to chant and cheer the name of their soon-to-be saviour, Captain Icarus of the Elite Royal Bodyguards. He frowned. “Don’t say that. He’s our friend, after all. I thought you enjoyed fun things, and an adventure seems fun!”

“There is a big difference between fun and just plain dangerous. I wouldn’t go jump off of a cliff because it’s exciting.” The unicorn explained.

“I jump off cliffs all the time.”

“That’s because you’ve got wings.”

Derky smiled and flexed his wings. “I like having wings.” He sighed with pride. His mind turned back to the matter at hoof. “Do you think we should try to talk him out of it?”

Cananor dismissed the notion instantly. “This is Belove we’re talking about. Once he decides to do something, he does it. You can’t reason with him.”

“He’s right over there. We could at least try.” The Pegasus pointed over to the cherub statue in the square. Belove was standing beside it in his full armour, surrounded by his fellow guards. From what it seemed, they were either encouraging his journey, or condemning it. One stallion in particular stood out from the rest: He was the largest, most muscular of the group, with a dark beige coat, verging on grey, just like his long and tattered mane that ran the length of his back to his tail. He had an air of superiority about him, and the others seemed to give him a wide berth, either from respect or fear. His name was Captain Blue Brigade, or as Cananor called him, father.

Cananor stopped short, his hooves kicking up mounds of grass. “Derky, I can’t go over. My dad is over there!”

“What’s wrong with that?” Derky Bells inquired, the puzzled look he wore not an uncommon expression to him.

“You don’t know my father.”

“Yes I do. He’s that pony over there.”

“I mean, you don’t know what he’s like.” Cananor shivered in the cold as he looked across the grass at his father’s towering form. “We’ve never really gotten along. You see...” The unicorn realised he was talking to himself.

Derky pushed his way through the crowd of armour clad stallions to the front, where his friend was filling a canteen with crystal clear water trickling from the fountain. The other guards were all talking at once, voices clambering over each other in a battle to be heard. But one voice rose above the others, and silenced the group completely. “I don’t know whether you’re the bravest pony I ever met,” Captain Brigade growled like a timberwolf at Belove, “Or the stupidest.” His voice was deep and gruff, and as rough as gravel. Derky felt like coughing for him to clear whatever obstruction there was in his throat. His tone warmed. “But you’ve got guts, kid. I’ll give you that. I can’t say that what you’re doing is right, but it makes me proud to see a stallion with Ponyville spirit.” The captain nodded down at the earth pony. “I want you to go out there, and I want you to bring our princess, and those girls, back. I want you to return honour to the Ponyville guard, son...”

This was when Cananor spoke up in a blind rage. “SON!?” He snorted disgustedly. “You’re calling HIM your son? When was the last time you called me your son?”

Captain Brigade’s muscles seemed to tense up for a moment, before he slowly turned to face his child. Their eyes made contact. “Well, well,” he barked. “If it isn’t my daughter.” A few of the guards laughed along with him, more fear than humour in their laughter. “Maybe I’ll call you my son when you start acting like a stallion!”

Cananor spat onto the dry grass below. “And what does being a stallion mean to you, then, eh?”

His father did not like being challenged, especially by his son. He took a few lumbering steps toward his offspring, bumping into one of the guards so hard that the poor soldier nearly toppled onto his back. “Being a stallion means being strong,” the captain roared as fiercely as a manticore. “It means showing courage and honour...”

“Just like you showed courage and honour when you refused to help?” The unicorn instantly regretted saying that. His father was a gigantic fellow and he had no desire to get in a fight with him. Still, it was too late and what had been said could no longer be un-said.

The comment seemed throw Captain Brigade for a moment, and he almost seemed shocked that his son had answered him back in such a fashion. Not only that, but all of his guards, who looked up to him as a leader, had just heard him get put in his place by his own child, a unicorn far smaller and weaker than himself. His dark beige cheeks turned scarlet, then crimson and his eyes flashed with anger. “Return to your duties,” he hissed the order at his men, who were only too happy to oblige. They scarpered, desiring not to witness what was to follow. Considering his tone, it was not likely to be pleasant.

The behemoth of a pony leaned in close to his son, towering over him like a giant. Her drew his muzzle in closer, touching Cananor’s. His unicorn horn, broken and jagged, clashed with the lawyers’. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that,” he whispered menacingly. “I have more courage in one hoof than you have in your entire body.”

Cananor gulped. There was no turning back now. He had to face his fears sooner or later. “Why are you ashamed of me, father?” he whispered back, trying hard to look into those cold eyes without tearing up. “You’ve always been ashamed of me.”

“Of course I have! Look at you: you’re a joke, and not a funny one. You’re a grown stallion but you still live with your mother and I, you haven’t so much as looked at another mare, and you haven’t won a court case in your life. You spend too much time trying to be a flailing comedian, and not enough time getting your life in order. I should have known back when you were a colt; reading those stupid comic books...”

“Nann-ga!” Cananor cried defensively. “And they aren’t stupid! Why won’t you respect me for who I am?”

Captain Brigade released a raspy chuckle. “I’ll respect you when you do something worthy of my respect. Which will be never.”

Cananor growled in his father’s face, and his father snarled back. “I’ll prove you wrong, old fool!” he panted in rage. “Maybe I’ll... I’ll...” His eyes wandered past his father’s twisted features to Belove, deep in conversation with Derky. “I’ll save Equestria! I’ll go to the Everfree forest and stop Nightmare Moon myself. And then I’ll have shown more courage than YOU, and you’ll have to respect me!”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Ugh!” The younger grunted in frustration. “I.. I’ll prove you wrong!”

The captain strode away into the darkness, gloating over his recent victory. His son didn’t see the sly smirk develop across his usually straight face. He knew he had won.

Cananor’s chest heaved in heated temper as he watched his father walk calmly away. At first, he could think only of how much he despised the stallion but it wasn’t long before he remembered what he had just said, and the rather perilous situation it had put him in.

Derky looked from Cananor to Belove, and then back to Cananor. “I thought we DIDN’T want him to go...” his voice trailed off.

Belove slipped the canteen back into his saddlebag with a slosh. “You’re not changing my mind,” he said to Cananor. “But it seems like you may have changed yours. Don’t come with me if you don’t want. But I’m going, so I am.”

Belove had never been grabbed and shaken vigorously by another pony before, so Cananor’s following action surprised him somewhat. “Can’t you see?” the unicorn stuttered. “I can’t go back on it now! My father will never let me live it down.” His face grew pale and his voice waivered, but there was a distant look of heroism in his eyes. “No, this is something I must do, whether I like it or not. We will save Equestria and return heroes! I will show my father that I am... a stallion! Oh, and a comedian, of course. Gonna whip up some fresh content away from home."

“Wait, so we DO want to go now?” Derky asked. His eyes rolled dazedly in their sockets. “I’m confused.”

Cananor sighed, and tried to break the news to his feathered friend gently. “Not you, Derky. Don’t worry about it. I need you to stay here.”

The Pegasus’ face dropped. “But why?”

“I, uh...” Cananor stammered. “I need you to stay here and, uh... mind the town. While I’m gone. Just for a while.”

“Sure you can come, Derky.”

Cananor swivelled around to Belove. “He... he what?”

“He can come,” the earth pony shrugged. “No problem. That is, if he wants to.”

“Ooh!” Derky allowed himself a little joyous summersault. “Yes please!”

Cananor’s heart skipped a beat. “Belove,” he gave a false smile. “Can I speak to you for a second? In private?”

The lawyer pulled him over by the ear and hissed, “What the hay do you think you are doing?”

“What do you mean? Look how happy he is.” Derky sat there like an obedient dog, staring at the duo with a big cheesy grin. His tail swished to and fro happily behind him.

Cananor grimaced and turned his back to the Pegasus, so as to shield his words from prying eyes. “Belove, look at how... innocent he is. I mean, he isn’t the sharpest tool in the set. If something wanted him for a spot of dinner, he'd probably season himself and give advice on serving suggestions. He wouldn't hurt a fly. You know that he won’t survive out there.”

Belove ‘pfft’ loudly, spittle landing on the lawyer’s nose. “Ah, sure, what are you, his mammy? He’ll be fine.”

Cananor wasn’t buying it. He screwed up his muzzle sceptically. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing, I just... want him to do a little reconnaissance, that’s all.”

“Reconnaissance? What reconnaissance?”

Belove inhaled sharply, then stuck his nose so close to Cananor’s ear-hole that it practically went in it. “Listen, there's more than just us going. I had a wee chat with Weatherstorm and brought 'round to me way of thinking. But then that new guy appeared: Starswirl or whatever his name was...”

“Starswirl was around, like, years ago, dude. From what I gather, he was a pretty intense guy: I doubt, even if he was still around, that he would help you on a personal vendetta against Icarus.”

Belove groaned. “You know the one I’m talking about. The unicorn. Dark blue. Blond. Met him the other night at the Summer Sun Celebration. Him.”

“Starfire, I believe?”

“Yeah, him.”

The lawyer clapped his hooves together. “Great! That means less of a chance of us failing. So, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is,” hushed Belove. “That I don’t fully trust him. For all I know, he could be... a spy.”

Not surprisingly, Cananor didn’t think so. “A spy? That’s a little farfetched, isn’t it?”

Sighing, the guard continued. “All I’m saying is, I need ponies I can trust with me to keep an eye out for any suspicious behaviour. Weatherstorm’s great and all, but,” he checked to make sure the bespectacled journalist wasn’t behind him. “He seems too friendly with this ‘Starfire’. I know I can trust him, but he’s easily swayed. That’s why I need you to come with me. Besides, I’ve known you long before Weatherstorm moved here from Cloudsdale, to be sure.”

Cananor gestured back to Derky. The ginger-maned Pegasus was swatting at a glowbug with his right hoof. It didn’t seem to deter the creature, who made it its personal goal to attempt to fly up his nostril. “But why do you need Derky?”

“You said it yourself. He’s innocent. I’ll tell him to watch Starfire, and he’ll do it.”

Cananor frowned. “Belove, I’m not okay with this. I know he can make up his own mind, but he could get hurt, or even...”

“Derky,” Belove called his pre-occupied friend over with a wave. “Come here a moment, will you?”

The pony obediently trotted over, glowbug planted firmly on his face. He blew it off. “Yes?”

“You would like to come with us, wouldn’t you?” Belove inquired with a smirk.

“Yes,” the Pegasus replied. “Yes I would.”

“And you would like to help out, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes I would.”

Belove reached down into his saddlebag and pulled out a notebook. “Then I want you to hold on to this. And if you see anything strange, write it down. Can you do that for me?”

The Pegasus scooped the notebook up in his wing. It flipped open to the first page, reading, ‘Somepony stole a sweetroll. No further investigations were made.’ Obviously, the guard didn’t use it to document much. “I’ll try,” Derky said with a smile.

“Good, good,” Belove gave him a friendly pat on the back. “And remember: if you see anypony acting strange, say...Starfire, you’ll tell me, won’t you?” Derky agreed. “Then go and get ready. We meet at the road out of town in an hour.”

Cananor gritted his teeth as he watched his winged friend happily canter off into the distance, whistling as he went. “You’re wrong to do this, Belove. You’re twisting his mind.”

Belove shook his head. “He made up his own mind. I didn't do it for him. Look how happy he is to be part of something! If you’ve got a problem with it, then don’t come.”

Cananor said nothing.

“That’s what I thought. Now go and get yourself kitted out.”

The unicorn held his tongue. Reluctantly, he headed off towards his home to gather what he needed for the road ahead. The long journey ahead hadn’t even begun and already tempers were frayed: Never mind about Starfire, it was Belove that he didn’t trust.

Belove watched his two friends wonder off in separate directions. He felt quite pleased with himself, acquiring not one but two sets of eyes and ears like that, and it had been easier than expected. He allowed himself a little moment to bask in self celebration. “I’ve got you now, Starfire,” he rubbed his hooves together in anticipation. “You and your boss Icarus. Nothing will stand between me and stardom.”

“I’ve got you now, Starfire.”

Weatherstorm gave three solid knocks on the door of the Carousel Boutique. He wasn’t sure why he always gave three knocks: perhaps he just always thought of it as his lucky number. However, it was not lucky enough to have the door miraculously answered by Rarity, that was for sure. The unicorn, a stallion with one of the most ridiculous mustaches Weatherstorm had ever laid eyes on, (and a straw hat that rivalled said ridiculousness) opened the door a fraction and stuck one curious eyeball through the gap. A bright yellow light, likely emanating from a candle or perhaps a chandelier, shone out of the little crack. “Hey, eh... Can I help you?”

Weatherstorm was so taken by the unicorn’s thick Caneigh-dian accent that he had to take a casual step back and made sure that this was in fact the Carousel Boutique. Confirming that this was the correct building, he answered the stallion’s question with another question. “I’m dreadfully sorry if this comes across as rude, but... who are you, exactly?”

“I’m Rarity’s daddy,” he replied, tipping his straw hat at the Pegasus, the rim falling over his horn. “She’s the owner of this here establishment. If you’re looking to do business, you’ll have to come right on back some other time. She’s not here right now, see.”

Weatherstorm’s blue eyes widened in shock, surprise, excitement, or maybe all three. “You’re... You’re her father?” This was certainly not what he had imagined Rarity’s father to look. For one, his sense of fashion was that of a dinosaurs’: Hawaiian shirts and straw hats? The Rarity Weatherstorm knew would not be seen dead in such attire! It just went to show that not every pony turns out like their parents. The stallion certainly knew how that felt: he was so different from his own parents he often wondered if there had been a mix up at the hospital when he was born.

The Pegasus regained his train of thought and closed his agape mouth. Her father... not exactly the scenario I would have wanted to meet him in, what with Rarity missing and presumably held hostage by an ancient evil, but metaphorical beggars could not, in this day and age, be choosers. He politely gave him his hoof. “I apologise, sir. I,” he puffed out his chest in pride, which was a little habit of his and butt of many of his friend’s jokes. “Am Weatherstorm. Perhaps your daughter has spoken kindly of me?”

“Nope. Never heard of you,” the stallion began to close the door. “Sorry.”

‘Think fast,’ Weatherstorm thought rather fast as he witnessed the ray of light grow smaller. ‘But think smart.’ He said something ridiculously idiotic.

“I’m her coltfriend, you see,” he blurted out, his words sprawling over each other. Weatherstorm mentally cursed himself again. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. The blue stallion put it down to being a complete idiot, especially when he was anywhere near Rarity, or even the Carousel Boutique itself. It all seemed to have a magical effect on him, which lessened his IQ quite considerably and caused him to say things he would later regret. This was one of those moments.

Gulping, the Pegasus stared into the eyes of the older pony. He stared back, wearing something that lay between a frown and a scowl. This standoff lasted several seconds, before the unicorn’s lips curled into what had to be the biggest smile Weatherstorm had ever seen. He didn’t even know a pony’s mouth could open that wide.

“Well, hay there!” he beamed, throwing open the door and embracing her daughter’s ‘coltfriend,’ with such force and strength that Weatherstorm turned blue in the face. Well, bluer that is. “Pleased to meet you! Come inside, please!” said the grinning unicorn, releasing hold of his captive and allowing one him one sharp breath before roughly grabbing him by his front hoof and yanking him indoors. Weatherstorm mustered up all his strength to not scream: his leg had only just started to recover after Belove had very nearly ripped it out a few nights earlier, and now it was back to square one again. Rarity’s dad was a strong, brutish fellow: not at all like his gentle, petite daughter. He mentally reminded himself to bring a pack of ice with him on his journey for his, yet again, strained ligament.

Weatherstorm was almost blinded as he was trailed into the shop. After spending so long in the dark, it was only natural that his eyes needed time to adjust to the immense brightness of the well lit room. A silver chandelier, swaying in the breeze of the open door, all 20 candles lit and flickering, hung above the main stage. Several more burned away in candle holders, spent candle wax dripping down the sconce and onto the tiled floors with a dull thump. It was apparent to the journalist that Rarity’s parents (or her father, at least: he had yet to meet her mother) had gone light-mad, as in they had to have every single dark corner of the boutique smothered in light. This could happen to a pony living in the dark, something out of the norm, for so long: it affects their minds, just a little. Still though, a well lit room hides no secrets.

“Sit, sit!” Rarity’s father ordered, literally pushing the Pegasus onto a wooden stool which very nearly toppled backwards. “You’ll need to meet her mother, eh? She’ll be pleased to meet you!” He galloped off again before Weatherstorm could open his mouth, darting through a purple wood door. Weatherstorm noticed that a lot of the grand furniture in the room, such as the creamy mannequins that sat like silent sentries holding such beautiful poses and the rich red armchairs that had cradled so many customers in luxury, had all been covered over with what seemed like white bedsheets, giving the impression of ghostly spirits, their shadows twisting like long, gnarled fingers by the light of the dancing flames. Had it not been for the lit candles, the whole place would have looked rather deserted. With no full time owner, it seemed that the family were packing the place up to sell.

The sound of trotting down stairs caught his attention and a few seconds later the purple door burst open, revealing the unicorn stallion and behind him, a pink mare, also a unicorn, sporting a questionably gigantic beehive manedo. From looking at the two, Weatherstorm deduced that his dream mare received her glossy white coat from her father, and her royal purple mane from her mother...

“Well, hay there!”

...And little else.

As quick as a flash, the mare dashed over to him, roughly pulling him to his hooves with his sore arm. The stool toppled onto the floor with a clunk. She was strong, as strong as her husband, he’d give her that.

“Magnum here told me that you’re our Rarity’s coltfriend, eh?” she said in the same drolly accent as her husband’s. “I’m so pleased to meet you. What did you say your name was again, kiddo?”

Weatherstorm shook his head from left to right. Rarity’s parents were possibly the strangest couple he had laid eyes on. “I didn’t.” He gave his trademark chest pump. “It’s Weatherstorm, actually. And it is I who is pleased to make your acquaintance, I can assure you.”

The mare nudged her husband and gave him a sly wink. “Ooh. Hear that, dear? Hear how fancy he is?” She turned back to their guest. “Where do you work, Featherstorm?”

Weatherstorm ignored the unintentional mispronunciation of his name. Were he born a mare, however, that would indeed have been his name, or so his mother had told him. “I work as a journ... I mean, doctor.”

‘DARN IT!’ He never thought he'd have to battle with his own mind and common sense to make enough lies to impress the parents of a mare he talked to once a month, at most.

“Oooh! Hear that, dear? A doctor!” she cooed. “Where do you practice? Here in Ponyville Hospital, or Cloudsdale...”

‘You can’t say Ponyville,’ he told himself. ‘They might check. Cloudsdale sounds half believable...’

“Canterlot Central.”

‘Forget it,’ his common sense scolded him. ‘I’m trying to help you out here and you’re blatantly ignoring me. I’m out.’

With the abandonment of his mind, Weatherstorm decided it was about time to change the subject. “Mr Rarity, Mrs Rarity, I am so sorry... for... I mean to say, the trouble you have went through these last few days...”

“Tell me about it!” Her father butted in. “What a mess. Nightmare Moon, eternal darkness... ruined our holiday to Saddle Arabia, let me tell you. Had to cut the trip short to come back here, eh?”

“Saddle Arabia,” Her mother sighed dreamily, looking into the eyes of her husband. “Wasn’t it great, though? While it lasted, I mean?”

The stallion removed his hat. “Too warm, dear. Too warm.”

Weatherstorm scoffed, a little too loudly. The duo turned to him and said, “Anything the matter, kiddo?” in union. There WAS something wrong, all right: this couple had just lost one of their daughters, and they were treating it as about as severe as leaving the tap running unattended. He would have thought they would be mildly concerned, at the very least. Or maybe they were, but it was just impossible to tell. “Is there any chance I could see your youngest daughter, Scootabell? I need to see if she is coping all right.”

“Sweetie Belle, you mean? We didn’t even bring her...”

“I meant losing her sister.” Weatherstorm sighed. The clock, sitting perfectly on the regal purple panelled wall, chimed 12: it spoke the truth – they really were ‘cuckoo.’

The stallion gestured to the open door, leading through a room to a wooden staircase. “She’s upstairs. Poor little filly is pretty upset over Rarity, eh?”

Weatherstorm hurriedly excused himself and made his way to the staircase. This meant traversing the cluttered ‘inspiration room.’ The journalist found it so funny that a lady such as Rarity, so prim and proper, would keep a room devoted to anarchy. Sheets of paper, several of which were detailing complex sketches of beautiful flowing dresses and stunning suits, littered the cluttered floor. Several more, most coloured neatly, hung loosely on the smooth pale walls, interrupted briefly by another lit candle sconce. Glossy magazines lay in crumpled heaps, rolls of fine fabrics and other materials strewn across the room. A light, see-through tarp lay over an old, rusted sewing machine. Obviously the dressmaker did not use this room to piece together her visions into any physical properties – rather it was just for envisionment, nothing more. He crossed the sea of many things without too much incident, disregarding nearly slipping on a stray cat toy shaped like a mouse and nearly breaking his neck to a high pitched squeal, and made his way up the winding stairs to what he assumed was Rarity’s bedroom.

He stopped at the door before entering, and listened. A faint sobbing sound, soft and muffled, and as quiet as a mouse, emanated from within. Weatherstorm straightened himself up, shaking a loose sheet free of his back hoof, before giving one polite, refined knock on the door. It swung open, revealing a little filly, sitting on the edge of the pink floral bouquet duvet that lay over the queen sized bed. She was a dazzling snow white, just like her father and older sister. Her mane reminded Weatherstorm of bubblegum, a pink and purple entwined little quiff. Her shoulders heaved up and down with every muffled sob, face cupped in her little white hooves.

“Sweetie Ball?” Weatherstorm whispered, edging closer to the huddled figure. “Sweetie?”

The little unicorn slowly raised her head and looked at the newcomer with blurry, bloodshot eyes. Tears carved a path down her furred cheeks and dripped off her snout like a waterfall, making the most delicate little ‘plink’ sounds as they fell to wooden floorboards. She sniffed, and inhaled sharply. Her chest hurt from the pain of losing her sister, and from crying for 2 nights solid. “W-w-who a-are y-y-you?” The filly stuttered, tiny little sobs interrupting each word.

The Pegasus gave her his most gentle, welcoming smile. It was strange, but she looked just like a miniature Rarity. He couldn’t even comprehend how much emotional pain the unicorn was going through. Nopony this young should have to experience this. Worse still, she seemed to be going through it alone: her parents were obviously blissfully ignorant to the outside world in general. “May I sit down, Sweetie Ball?” He spoke calmly, slowly and deliberately. The filly looked like she had a lot to get off her chest.

The unicorn wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hoof. “M-my name is Sw-eetie Belle.” She swallowed her sob.

Weatherstorm nodded warmly. “Well, may I, Miss Belle?”

“M-mmm hmm.” Sweetie Belle replied.

The journalist lowered himself onto the duvet and nestled himself beside the filly. His wing outstretched and carefully wrapped itself around the quivering youth, drawing her a little closer. He smiled down at her. “It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you, Miss Belle. I should introduce myself: my name is Weatherstorm.” He stared at her for a moment, as though the mention of his name was meant to provoke some sort of response from the child. He frowned when it did not. “Perhaps your sister has spoken of me...?”

Sweetie Belle snuggled in closer to his wing. He could feel her little heart beating erratically, but her slowing breathing patterns showed she was starting to feel a little more comfortable. “N-no.” She sniffed, blowing her nose on one of his feathers.

Weatherstorm cringed but said nothing. It would wash out later, surely. “Listen,” he soothed. “I am so sorry to hear that Rarity has disappeared. I know you loved her and she loved you. She loved you more than anything else in all of Equestria. She told me so herself.”

Fresh tears formed in the filly’s green eyes. “She said... she said that?”

He was lying, of course. Most conversations with his secret crush did not go very far, either due to Rarity’s lack of time to converse or Weatherstorm’s inability to converse with her. “Of course,” he reassured, cradling the young one in his wing. “She loves you with all her heart. You know that.”

Sweetie Belle, stretching herself out on the bed, allowed her tears to flow freely. “Bu-but sometimes, I mess u-up her things, a-and she yells... sometimes, I’m a bad sister...”

“No, you aren’t a bad sister.” Weatherstorm wiped away her tears with his other wing. His blue feathers tickled her nose, causing her to sneeze. No matter. It would wash out later. “You’re a wonderful little sister. And she loves you more than her dresses, more than this boutique, more than anything in this world.”

Sweetie Belle’s eyes flickered with sadness, but hope. “Will... will I ever see her again?”

“Sweetie Belle, I promise you,” Weatherstorm began with utmost confidence. “That I will get you your sister back, sweetheart. However, I need to know a few things, okay?”

The unicorn nodded.

“Your sister told me she was headed into the Everfree Forest. To the ‘Ancient castle of the royal sisters’, if my memory serves me correctly. I need to know: how did she know where to look? Did she tell you?” The stallion inquired.

“She said it was from a book.” Sweetie Belle sighed. “Like a fairy tale. She read it in the library.”

Weatherstorm nodded. Looked like another trip to the library. “Can you remember if she told you anything else? What book it was? Anything?”

“N-no. She said the less I knew the better. She didn’t...” The filly yawned, craning her neck upwards, mouth agape and eyes closed tight. “She said... she didn’t want me to get hurt.”

“That’s because she loves you.”

Sweetie Belle snuggled into Weatherstorm, and he did likewise. Within another five minutes or so, she was fast asleep, her eyes shut, snoring contently, dreaming of the way it was before: the days before Nightmares, before darkness, before isolation. Every now and again, her back hoof lashed out at some invisible demon. The poor thing had cried herself to sleep.

Weatherstorm gently unravelled his wing that the filly had wrapped herself up in, carefully tucking her into bed and blowing out the candle. Before he left, he turned back to her sleeping form and whispered, “I will get you your sister back, I promise. Sleep well, Sweetie Belle.”

The door shut silently behind him.

He could hear them talking about him downstairs. Taking particular care where he put his hooves so as not to stand on any squeaky floorboards, Cananor edged his way out of his room to the top of the stairs and pricked his ears up, listening to his parents talk amongst themselves. Their voices floated up from the hallway.

“YOU WHAT?!” His mother’s voice assaulted his earlobes. He cringed and took a few steps back. She could be a loud woman, or at least had to be, after living with her husband Blue Brigade for several years.

He heard his father hush her, stating that his son, “Could be listening.” He got that right. “I told him if he wanted my respect, he would have to earn it. Maybe it will convince him to actually do something smart with his life.”

His mother groaned. “And so he’s going off on his own now? Into the Everfree Forest? How could you be so stupid as to egg him on like that? It’s too dangerous!” The panic was clear in her voice: she didn't want her baby boy to get hurt.

Surprisingly, Cananor heard his father laugh. “Believe me, he isn’t that stupid. He said it as a spur of the moment sort of thing. Knowing him, he’ll probably sleep out somewhere tonight, and then grace us with his presence in the morning. Let him act out his little stage play: he’ll come crawling back, and he'll thank me for it.”

Cananor saw red. ‘How dare he?’ seethed the unicorn. ‘They think of me as some immature, stroppy teenager!’ The stroppy, immature teenager growled. Huffing, he made his hoof steps as deliberate and loud as possible, making sure to stamp on every creaking floorboard on the way back to his room. He slammed his room door with such force that every window in the house rattled violently in their panes. Down below, Blue Brigade paused briefly to roll his eyes, before his wife nagged at him again.

Cananor threw his rucksack onto his bed. His horn burst with magic as he piled all the essentials inside: Food and drink that had been lying there for Celestia knows how long, bandages, toothpaste, a pair of socks (To save his hooves from getting dirty)... they all went into the sack, mixed together like the most bizarre stew in creation. The unicorn tightened the cord and took a step back to admire his work. There. Perfect.

‘No, not perfect,’ his subconscious told itself. ‘I may as well just admit it: I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. This is all pointless.’

Cananor took in a long, shaky breath, held it for a moment, and then released it. He looked down at his quivering hooves.

He wasn’t ready for this. It was all... too much. He didn’t even know his own mind anymore. Why couldn’t things just go back to the way they were?

‘What difference does it make if I get myself hurt out there?’

He sat there, on the edge of his bed, for what seemed like years, his mind conflicting with his emotions. ‘I can’t go through with this.’ He sighed. ‘I... I have no confidence.’

In a way, backing down didn’t come as a surprise to the unicorn. After all, failure was something he had mastered: his father was right. He hadn’t won a single court case in his entire career. He wasn’t respected by his own parents, his clients, his aunt, his friends. Try as he might, it was getting harder and harder for him to put on a brave face in front of his friends.

Cananor the jokester. Cananor the light-hearted, fun loving guy. Happy-go-lucky. Make them laugh. Keep it together.

They never saw him cry. Neither did his parents.

Were he to just forget about the whole adventure, it would just be another failure on the ever-growing list.

The lawyer’s eyes were drawn to his tower of comic books, the only items he took enough pride in to organise. Most were issues of Phoenix Flight, neatly stacked on top of each other in numerical order. He pulled the first book from the pile.

This comic was a little more special than the others: first of all, it was as old as Cananor himself. Secondly, it held humungous sentimental value to the unicorn – it was the first Phoenix Flight comic he had ever read, back when he was a colt, and the moment his eyes made contact with the cover he knew what he wanted to be when he grew up.

The stallion levitated the comic book to eye level. It was issue #1: a collector’s item, lovingly encased in a protective bag. The title read, “PHOENIX FLIGHT: GRIFFON OF JUSTICE!” in bold capital letters, a sparkling star hovering above the logo. The half lion, half eagle looked surprisingly snazzy in a suit and tie, his dark brown feathers smoothed back and shining in the light of the courtroom. His hero struck a heroic pose on the front cover, his paw raised in defiance and pointed toward the reader, and a speech bubble stating ‘OBJECTION!’ coming from the Griffon’s mouth. Cananor smiled. Try as he might, he could never say it the way he imagined Phoenix to say it, so full of confidence and spirit…

He flicked forwards a few pages. The story of issue one was arguably one of the best: Phoenix, then just a rookie working for the Feather and Co. Law offices, had taken the job of defending his childhood friend Minna, another Griffon, from allegations that she had stolen precious gems from the Prince. The first few pages were mainly building up his character, and then the plot. Fuelled by nostalgia, he skipped forward another few pages. A double paged image showed Minna crying in frustration, her whole family turned against her, and although she turned out innocent in the end, she was contemplating admitting to the crime. Cananor stopped and read the cartoon-ishly large speech bubble twisting from Phoenix’s powerful beak: “WHAT?” The words exploded from the page. “IS THAT IT? ARE YOU JUST GOING TO GIVE UP? MINNA, LIFE ISN’T FAIR! SOMETIMES, YOU HAVE GOT TO LOOK AT YOURSELF IN THE MIRROR AND SAY, ‘WHO THE HAY DO YOU THINK I AM?’”

Cananor laughed. Phoenix was known for his motivational speeches, but this was one of his best in the series.

The four colour lawyer roughly grabbed his printed pal by her tie and pulled her closer. “YOU’VE GOT TO LOOK OUTSIDE AND SAY, ‘WHO THE HAY DO YOU THINK I AM, WORLD?’ IF YOU ADMIT TO DEFEAT, YOU’LL NEVER SUCCEED IN ANYTHING! SO GET BACK IN THAT COURTROOM AND STAND UP TALL!”

Cananor heard the voice of the Griffon echo through the room. The illustration’s twinkling eyes, looking to the reader, pierced his soul. Phoenix was talking to HIM.

“AND IF YOU DON’T THINK YOU CAN DO IT...”

“IF YOU CAN’T BELIEVE IN YOURSELF...”

“THEN REMEMBER THIS: I BELIEVE IN YOU. BELIEVE IN THAT!”

Cananor’s heart skipped a beat. Unbeknownst to him, a small smile crept along his face. A twinkle of determination returned to his eyes. He mouthed out the next line.

“SOAR THROUGH THE HEAVENS... AND BEYOND!”

He turned few more pages to the end. It was just one image: Phoenix had won the case and saved his friend. The one panel page depicted Minna locked in a loving embrace with her father. “I’m... I’m so sorry I doubted you.” Her father chocked. “I know I haven’t always been there for you, but... I love you, Minna.” Phoenix stood in the background, forelegs folded in determination. His and Cananor’s eyes met.

“IF YOU ADMIT DEFEAT, YOU’LL NEVER SUCCEED IN ANYTHING!”

“I... I’m sorry I doubted you.”

“I love you, my child.”

“I love you, dad.”

“SOAR THROUGH THE HEAVENS... AND BEYOND!”

Cananor nodded in understanding, carefully placing the comic in his rucksack. He piled a few more issues in for good measure, before throwing the bag onto his back.

He poked his head out of his bedroom door. His parents' disembodied voices continued to argue with one another.

“Why are you always in competition with your own son?”

“I’m teaching him to be a stallion! If anything, it’s you coddled him too much... he needs to stand up for himself, be strong...”

“Oh! So suddenly I'M in the wrong? You wanted him to join the guard...”

“A fine profession!”

“Oy vey, this is TYPlCAL of you, Blue. I should have listened to my mother...”

“Don’t bring your mother into this!”

Cananor closed the door with a click. He took one last look in the mirror. His eyes burned with steely determination. His hoof ran through his mane, smoothing it back in one swift sweep.

One last thing...

The little colt looked so happy in the picture. He was held in the embrace of his father, holding him in both hooves and offering him the world. Both father and son looked so happy. They were laughing.

Cananor slipped it into one of his rucksack’s side pouches. A few seconds later, he climbed out of the window and into the night.

His breath was sucked from him as he felt himself falling, then a thump as his body hit soft earth.

‘I guess I miscalculated the distance between the window and the tree...’

The unicorn threw his muddy jacket to the ground and straightened his tie, before limping off into the distance. His parents' heated voices, still locked in conflict, followed him, carried by the wind, before fading into the quiet night sky.

Starfire was the last to show up, just shortly after Weatherstorm. When questioned, he merely gave the others a nonchalant response of, “I went to the library. To gather some reading material.” Belove noticed that was the same excuse Weatherstorm had made. He wasn’t convinced.

There they stood, five young stallions way out of their depth, on the road out of Ponyville. In the distance, past the rolling green fields and flat plains, loomed the Everfree Forest.

Belove grinded his teeth. ‘This is my chance to shine. My chance to achieve stardom... and rub it in Icarus’ stupid face.’

Weatherstorm wiped the condensation from his glasses. ‘Somewhere in there, Rarity waits to be rescued. And it’ll be I who does the rescuing. Soon, my love...’

Cananor stared down at the forest with all the determination of Phoenix Flight himself. ‘I need to do this. I need to prove myself to my father... and earn his respect.’

Starfire checked through his inventory one last time. Water? Check. Bananas? Check. Insulin? Check. Books? He gave a nervous glance to his comrades, who were pre-occupied with the sight of their destination. Check. He wanted to tell himself that he was doing this for the good of Equestria. That he was driven by morality, nothing more. But he wasn’t in the habit of lying to himself and he wasn’t going to start now. He only hoped Cheerilee would think of him as an adult, and his pupils as a teacher, after he saved the world. And it would look good on his employment résumé . ‘And maybe I’ll get to meet this ‘Twilight’ I’ve heard so much about... I would like to exchange a spell or two...’

Derky stood at the end. Nopony knew if he had an ulterior motive or anything to gain from this expedition, nor did anybody truthfully care. His body language was difficult to read at the best of times.

Our five heroes didn’t see the shadowy figure watching them from above on the town hall balcony. He stood overlooking their departure; his white face was contorted in hate.

“They may prove to be troublesome, sir.”

Captain Icarus turned to the newcomer, allowing his face to bask in the light bursting through the open double doors. Inside, he could hear the populace of Ponyville down in the main hall, chanting his name like that of their dear Princess Celestia.

“Pit,” the captain cooed to his second in command, a unicorn every bit as blindly white as Icarus himself. His curly brown hair blew in the wind. “My dear Pit. Worry not. I don’t think they’ll be too much of a burden to us. Besides...”

He looked back down at the stallions walking down the solitary dirt path, before they disappeared behind a grassy hill.

“They won’t last long in the forest. And if, by some miracle, they do survive...”

“...We’ll eliminate them ourselves.”