> Mantles
>  by Ponky
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> 1 - Changes
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


CHAPTER ONE
CHANGES







Three green leaves sprouting from the highest branch popped sharply against the cool blue sky.  Apple Bloom admired the stark contrast.  Those leaves were some of the first to sprout; only a few hours had passed since the official close of another successful Winter Wrap Up.  Even all these years after her departure, Ponyville still followed Twilight Sparkle’s ingenious methods to the T.  The old chaotic practice flitted through Apple Bloom’s mind, adding yet another memory to her growing bank of nostalgia.

She was very tempted to buck the tree and gather those leaves for her journal.  Already, in the four or five minutes she had spent staring at them, scores of treasurable memories had resurfaced.  In many ways, those three brave leaves were much like she and her best friends had been as fillies.  The Cutie Mark Crusaders had always been at the forefront of adventure, full of energy and life, ready to take on another chance at earning their ultimate goal.

For what seemed like the thousandth time that day, Apple Bloom sighed.  Finally she turned away from the nearly barren tree at the outskirts of Sweet Apple Acres, leaving the trio of leaves where they were.  In a matter of weeks, she knew very well, they would be joined by millions upon millions of similar leaves, soaking in Celestia’s sunlight to feed the all-important apples that Ponyville and the Apple family relied upon so heavily.  But Apple Bloom wouldn’t be there to see them grow.  She wouldn’t be there to help Big Macintosh and his children during Apple Buck Season.  She might never participate in another Winter Wrap Up.

Apple Bloom was moving to Canterlot, but not out of spite or a fillyhood thirst for adventure.  She was following her good friend Sweetie Belle’s hoofsteps and taking her talent to a garden where it could grow.  The Canterlot School of Art’s acceptance letter had arrived on the morning before Wrap Up began.  As Apple Bloom trotted away from her family’s farm to the train station, she thought back to that exciting delivery.

Dinky Doo had knocked on the wooden door of Apple Bloom’s cottage.  She answered the call blearily, squinting past the piercing rays of early morning light.

“Howdy, Dinky,” she had said with a forced smile.  “Got some mail for me?”

“Sure do, Apple Bloom!” the unicorn confirmed.  The sensible way she magically filed through her bag and produced the thin envelope addressed to Apple Bloom put a bittersweet taste in her mouth.  On the one hoof, it was nice to see the mail carrier so organized; on the other, Ditzy Doo’s scrambling had been a source of morning smiles for so many years.  Just one more little change in Ponyville, thought Apple Bloom.  One little change that changes everything.

“Thank ya kindly,” she said to Dinky.  With a professional nod, the mailmare was off to her next stop, leaving Apple Bloom to stare at the concealed bit of Fate in her hooves.

Had her résumé been impressive enough?  Had her samples amply exemplified her talent?  Was her unique style clear to the board?  Surely they would accept her if they understood that painting really was her special talent.  Surely they could see that Apple Bloom’s abilities, like Sweetie Belle’s, deserved a place to develop and expand.

But what if they didn’t like her paintings?  What if her style was too unique?  What if everypony who applied to the School had an art-centered Cutie Mark?

With the letter gripped between her front hooves, Apple Bloom had stolen a proud glance at her flank.  It bore an active paintbrush that seemed to wiggle when she walked, adding to the illusion that it was drawing the rest of the Mark: a shiny red apple surrounded by cream-colored petals.  

The central apple reminded her that her family ought to be present when she opened the School’s reply.  Good news or bad, she wanted them there.

Without a second thought, Apple Bloom had galloped across town with the envelope between her teeth, bursting through the front door of Applejack’s one story home without knocking.  The middle-aged pony leapt from her breakfast of apple peels and glared unhappily at her little sister.

“Apple Bloom!” she scolded.  “Ya cain’t go and startle me like that anymore, ya silly filly.  I’m too old fer surprises.”

“And you cain’t keep callin’ me a filly,” Apple Bloom retorted, taking the letter from her mouth.  “I’m too old fer insults.”

Applejack grinned lovingly.  “‘Tain’t no insult bein’ called young.”

“You ain’t that old, Sis.”  Apple Bloom rolled her eyes as she walked closer.  “What are ya, not even forty?  Why, Granny Smith was more’n twice as old as you when she passed away.”

Applejack grunted slightly.  “Don’t make no difference.  Old is old.  She was jus’ old for a mighty long time.”

Giggling, Apple Bloom held the envelope too close to Applejack’s eyes.  The orange pony squinted a moment and gasped.

“Apple Bloom!  Ain’t this about’cher application?”

“Sure is!  I’m just so nervous to open it... I wanted everypony I love the most to be around when I do.”

“Well, that’s very thoughtful of ya,” Applejack said, patting her sister on the back.  “I’m sure we wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Apple Bloom ran a gentle hoof over Applejack’s slightly greying mane.  Streaks of sunny blonde were still dominant, but she wondered how many more years that would last.  Of all her friends, Applejack was aging quickest.  Changes, changes, changes….

The sisters trotted together to the ranch’s second homestead on the other side of the big red barn.  It was older than Applejack’s and quite a bit larger; seeing as it housed five ponies instead of one, the difference was appropriate.  Apple Bloom knocked softly, wary of disturbing her nieces' and nephew’s morning slumber.

Fluttershy opened the door wearing a humble smile.  “Good morning, you two,” she said.  “What brings you here on this lovely last day of Winter?”

“A.B.’s got herself a bit of good news!” Applejack whispered.  “She wanted the whole family around to—”

“Please, Applejack, I can speak for myself.”  She turned to Fluttershy and grinned.  “I want the whole Apple family with me when I open up the letter.  Is it too early to wake the kids?”

“Oh, no,” Fluttershy assured her, stepping aside to let both sisters enter her home.  “In fact, Macintosh is waking them up right now.”

On cue the stallion stepped down the ranch house’s stairs with twin fillies and a baby colt balancing on his back.  At the sight of their relatives, the yellow youngsters’ eyes widened and they leapt from their father, gliding toward the visitors on undeveloped wings.

“Auntie Applejack!  Auntie Apple Bloom!” they called out in unison, wrapping their forelegs around the mares’ middles.

“Howdy, Dawn.  G’morning, Terra Dolce,” Apple Bloom greeted them, rolling her eyes at the younger twin’s name.  Rarity had insisted that she help name at least one of them.

“Good to see you girls,” Applejack greeted, shifting her eyes to her big brother across the room.  “And how’s Little Mac?  Did he wake y’all up again last night?”

“Eeyup,” Big Macintosh confirmed as he nuzzled his infant son resting peacefully against the mane of his neck.

“Guess what, girls!”  Apple Bloom directed her exclamation at the twins who flapped their wings at her feet.

“What!?  What!?” they shouted.  Unfortunately, neither had inherited their parents’ quietness.  Though perhaps Scootaloo was to blame for that.

Apple Bloom beamed down at them, remembering how tall grown mares used to look.  “I got a very important letter in the mail today that’ll tell me whether or not I get to go to Cantlerlot and learn how to be a better painter!”

The twins’ reactions were comically mixed.  For a moment, they couldn’t decide whether to shout with joy or gasp in surprise or simply tilt their heads in confusion.  What resulted was a strange mix of the three, more like convulsions.  Through her spasm, Dawn choked out, “But Apple Bloom, you’re already the best painter in Ponyville!”

“The best painter in Equestria!” chimed in Terra Dolce.

Apple Bloom blushed at their innocent compliments.  “Well, I’m sure glad you two think so, but there’re lots of great painters all over the country, and they all wanna learn from the teachers at Canterlot’s School.  And this letter—”  She dangled the precious envelope before their gleaming eyes.  “—is gonna tell me if I get to be one of them especially talented ponies that gets to go!”

The twins cheered, far more collected than their previous attempt.  “Open it!  Open it!” they cried as one.

Apple Bloom heart began to race as she looked around at the room’s older faces, each one encouraging her in their own way to open the letter and learn of her future…

FWEEEEEEEEE!

Apple Bloom’s memory broke as a train whistle blasted nearby.  She found herself standing in the station, suitcase pulled behind by her tail, ticket tucked safely behind her right ear.

This was it, then.  That ticket was one-way to Canterlot, the Royal City, home of the Princesses.  What would it be like, she wondered, to live in a big city like that?  Sweetie Belle’s letters made it sound wonderful.  Apple Bloom could only remember snippets of how Twilight and Spike used to describe it.  Of course she had been to the city on multiple occasions as a foal, visiting the Gardens or attending the Royal Wedding, but to live there—to study there!  She could hardly wait.

There were still another fifteen minutes before her train arrived.  Apple Bloom spotted an empty bench among the light bustle of the station and started towards it, suitcase in tow.  From the corner of her eye, she noticed another pony headed for the same bench.  She quickened her trot.  There was plenty of room for two ponies on the bench, but she wanted to have first pick.

Apparently, so did her opponent.  Without looking at each the other, the two raced.  Her powerful hind legs ensured Apple Bloom’s victory.  Her front hoof smacked the bench's surface and she turned to face the other with a wide grin.

“Ha!  I win!” she yelled.  The other pony, a spiky haired unicorn stallion with a mint-green coat, laughed at her outburst.

“Oh, Apple Bloom.  I should have known better than to try and race you, Iron Pony,” he said.

“Harper!” Apple Bloom greeted, smiling.  “Did y’all get accepted, too?”

Harper Heartstrings beamed as he wiggled a train ticket held above his head with magic.  “Yes, ma’am!  And I’ve never been so happy in my whole life!”

Apple Bloom squealed and threw her hooves around her friend.  “What’re the chances?  Two artists from a little ol’ town like Ponyville, both accepted to the most prestigious School of Art in all of Equestria!”

Harper quickly returned the hug.  “I agree that it’s exciting, but hardly surprising.  You know better than I do that Ponyville’s a special place.  Just think of all that’s happened to this city, even in our lifetimes!”  Apple Bloom noticed a spark in his eye as he rattled off.  “First town to grow Zap Apples, center of Night Mare Moon’s return, home of the Elements of Harmony for ten whole years, only pony village ever to have a dragon resident, nearly turned into the Capitol of Chaos… I could go on all day!”

“I’d rather you stopped,” Apple Bloom said with a sad smile.  “I’ve been thinkin’ a lot about Ponyville lately.  All those things—all those wonderful, spectacular, nigh unbelievable things—seems like they happened so long ago.  Seems so different now.  I don’t wanna call it boring, but compared t’those days…  I don’t know, Harper, it’s just so different.  ‘Specially since my sister’s friends started…”

She couldn’t finish the sentence.  Instead she crawled onto the bench, leaning her suitcase against it, and rested her head in her crossed forelegs.

Harper’s lively smile faded to a sympathetic one.  He turned around and hopped onto the bench, sitting on his rear with his back legs dangling while his upper legs draped over the top for balance.  Apple Bloom scoffed.  “Weirdo,” she mumbled.

If he heard her, Harper paid the insult no mind.  After a deep breath through his nose, he said, “Must be tough.  You knew them all better than I did.  The Elements, I mean.”

Apple Bloom nodded into the crook of her legs.  “In yer defense, you were real little when Twilight first arrived.  I was already in school.”

Harper shuddered.  “I don’t like that you talk about her so casually,” he admitted.

“Everypony says that,” Apple Bloom acknowledged with a shrug.  “I knew her for so long as Twilight Sparkle the Librarian.  Cain’t seem to get used to the way things are now.”

“Better hurry up,” Harper suggested.  “I don’t think Canterlotians will put up with you for a minute if you talk about her like an old friend.”

“But she is an old friend!” Apple Bloom complained, swishing her tail.

Harper could only pull a face in response.  Apple Bloom huffed.

“Anyway, what were we talking about?” Harper asked, peering down the tracks.

“How wull I knuh the Ulemunts.”  Her answer was muffled by her pouty lips.  Harper laughed.

“Cheer up, friend,” he said, smoothing down Apple Bloom’s bright red mane with a caring hoof.  “Change is tough, but it’s good.  You’ll see, things get better and better all the time.”

The young stallion’s cheery attitude was annoying at the moment, but Apple Bloom knew deep down that he was right.  She gazed despondently at the ground, watching the colorful hooves of traveling ponies trot this way and that over the elevated floorboards.

Harper’s ears perked up and he pointed toward the south tracks.  “There’s our train, Apple Bloom!  It’s coming fast!”

The steam engine’s whistle sounded so far away, but Apple Bloom knew it would be there any moment.  Then she’d be off and away to Canterlot for who knew how long.  Part of her couldn’t wait to board that train and leave behind the sad excuse for the adventurous Ponyville of her youth.  Another part wanted to run back to Applejack and throw her hooves around her neck and work on Sweet Apple Acres until the day she died.  And another part just wanted to go home and paint.

The train slowed down as it entered the station, but its motion was still enough to bring a heavy gust of wind.  Apple Bloom’s eyes closed against the wall of air, but they flew open in terror as her ticket was whisked from behind her ear.

“No!” she shouted, hopping down from the bench and swiping frantically at the airborne paper.  It climbed higher and higher, above the roof of the depot and far from Harper’s magical reach.  “My ticket!”

“Is in good hooves!” called a voice from above.  Apple Bloom barely had to scan the skies before a streak of brilliant purple snatched the ticket from midair.

“Scootaloo!  Ya made it!” Apple Bloom called out as her friend landed at her side with the important paper between her teeth.

She spat the ticket into Apple Bloom’s outstretched hoof.  “What, did you really think I’d miss my last friend’s farewell?”  Scootaloo shot her a moody glance.

“Scoot, don’t do that!” Apple Bloom complained, bowing her head from the stare.  “I’m not yer last friend, and I promise I’ll be back to visit next Hearth’s Warming Eve.”

Scootaloo’s eyes narrowed.  “Pinkie Pie Promise?”

A lump caught in Apple Bloom’s throat, but she managed to pull a weak smile.

“Crossmyheartandhopetoflystickacupcakeinmyeye,” she rehearsed, wiggling her hooves with the pact’s motions halfheartedly.

“And you’ll bring Sweetie Belle?”  Scootaloo’s voice was cracking with emotion.

“Oh, Scoot!”  Apple Bloom tightly hugged her friend and was met with surprising tears.  “I didn’t think you’d be one to mush up on me!”

“I’m the last one, Apple Bloom,” Scootaloo sobbed.  She leaned back and stared into the earth pony’s eyes.  “The last.  One.”

“The last what, Scootaloo?”

“The last of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, of course!” she shouted, leaping back to hover with her powerful orange wings.  “Everypony else is choo-choo-in’ away to find their epic destinies in Canterlot, while I’m stuck here in boring old Ponyville for the rest of my life!”

“Scootaloo!” Apple Bloom scolded.  “If I remember right, you requested to head up the weather team when Rainbow Dash moved away.  And yer more than a mite good at it!  Ponyville needs you.  Think of all o’ Miss Cheerilee’s kids that look up to you!”

The pegasus smiled a little.  “I’m somepony’s Rainbow Dash,” she said dreamily.

“Scootaloo, you’re everypony’s Rainbow Dash!” her friend complimented, restoring the familiar beam on Scootaloo’s face.

“Hey, Apple Bloom!” Harper called from behind them.  She twisted her neck in reply.  “Time to board the train!” he said, levitating his ticket and a beautiful harp-shaped case through one of the passenger car’s open doors.

“Be right there!” she said, turning back to her lifelong friend.  “I… I promise I’ll…” she tried, but tears were starting to burn the underside of her eyes.

“Oh, shut up,” Scootaloo mumbled, locking into another embrace.  “I love ya, Bloom.”

Apple Bloom sniffed.  “Love you too, you big chicken.”

With a decisive jab to the ribs, Scootaloo was off to the skies without another word, getting back to work at clearing away the last of Winter’s gloomy clouds.

Apple Bloom grasped her ticket in her mouth and fetched her suitcase from its position by the bench.  Speeding through a mental checklist, she decided that everything was done up and ready to go.  The most excited part of her dominated the moment and she wore an aching grin as she shook away jitters.  Onto the train, and on to Canterlot!

Yet as she climbed aboard, she couldn’t help but take note of the strange sense of dread building in her chest.  It was separate from the nostalgia that longed for the Ponyville of her past, separate from the morning’s painful goodbyes to Scootaloo, to Applejack, to the surviving Elements of Harmony who still lived in the little town.  She tried to ignore the sickly feeling, but Apple Bloom was a full-grown mare now with plenty of experience under her saddle.  Apple Instincts were to be trusted.  Like Pinkie Pie’s unexplainable Pinkie Sense—just thinking of the pony made Apple Bloom’s amber eyes misty—that wretched pit between her ribs was warning her of something terrible.  Something fast approaching.

The train began to move, and as she searched for Harper among its passengers, Apple Bloom prayed that her instincts were wrong.
	
	
> 2 - A Sweet Reunion
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


CHAPTER TWO
A SWEET REUNION







Apple Bloom had never been particularly musical.  She was a decent singer, and she often caught herself whistling the Cutie Mark Crusaders’ theme song or "Hearts as Strong as Horses" while working alone in the middle of the orchards, but her art was primarily visual.  Even so, she appreciated a good musician, and Harper certainly took the cake.

Quite unlike his mother’s more classical style, Harper moved to the beat of his own drum… which was almost always very fast.  Mere minutes into the train ride, Apple Bloom noticed that Harper started to tap his hoof along with the steady rhythm of the locomotive.

Chicka-chicka, chicka-chicka, chicka-chicka, chicka-chicka…

Tap.  Tap.  Tap.  Tap.

Chicka-chicka, chicka-chicka, chicka-chicka, chicka-chicka…

Tap, tap, tap… tap-tap.

“Fancy hoofwork,” Apple Bloom noted with an amused expression.

Harper winked at her.  “Just wait ‘til I get going.”

She watched with fascination as his hoofs began to beat out complicated rhythms, always falling back into play with the beat of the tracks.  Other ponies took note as well, smiling or gawking at the stallion’s talent.

Suddenly, after a particularly quick shuffle of his hooves, Harper added a melody to the beat.  He hummed four long notes over and over, giving Apple Bloom a meaningful glance that suggested he wanted her to add on.  Blushing, she hummed a harmony above the tenor’s line, delighting their growing audience even more.

“Join in when you can, everypony!” Harper called out to them, returning to his melodic hmms.

An excited unicorn took up the invitation immediately, working his own hooves against the window pane to add a metallic ring to the beat.

“That’s it!” encouraged Harper.  His lake-blue eyes shone nearly as bright as his snare drum Cutie Mark.  Apple Bloom grinned at his contagious enthusiasm; anyone who loved music this much certainly deserved a spot in Canterlot’s School.  She wondered if her eyes sparkled like that when she painted.

One by one, the ponies in their passenger car added rhythms with their hooves and descants with their mouths, creating a swirling chorus of beautiful, driving music that wiped all worry from Apple Bloom’s mind.  

And then a small, tan pony started to sing from nowhere.  It fit perfectly with the established accompaniment and Apple Bloom had to concentrate on her humming to keep from dropping her jaw.

“Just another train ride, just another trip,
Woke up thinking this day would be another drip,
But something special happened and brightened up my day.
And now I know exactly what my mom was tryin’ to say…”

His voice was so crisp, so pure and piercing.  He had stepped into the aisle for his solo but looked as though he wasn’t going to continue, shying away from the wide eyes of admiring ponyfolk.  Harper nearly shrieked over the continuing music.

“Don’t stop, kid!  What did she tell you?” he asked in a voice brimming with pride.  This was exactly what he was after, Apple Bloom realized: trying to make someone’s day with an impromptu song.  Trying to help somepony else find their special talent.

The light brown colt beamed at Harper’s approval, just as Scootaloo used to look on Rainbow Dash.  With a gulp of air large enough to fuel his song, that beautiful tone graced the pulsing air once more.

“She said: cheer – up – Charlie Horse,
Don’t let your face stay twisting,
Just look – for – something good,
You’ll find what you are missing!”

As he repeated the stanza, Harper loudly sang along, continuing to stomp against the chickas of the train.  More and more of the listening ponies joined the chorus, even Apple Bloom, until adorable little Charlie stood on his hind legs and sang at the top of his lungs:

“You’ll never see a cloudy day
Whose clouds you cannot clear away
As long as you recall to saaaaaay:
Cheer – up – Charlie!”

With a resounding stomp, every pony involved in the song stopped on a bit and broke into tremendous cheers of sheerest joy.  Many grateful hooves found their way to pat Harper’s back.  He humbly acknowledged them all, complimenting them with surprising specifics on their individual contributions.  When all had settled down, Apple Bloom gawked at her winded friend.

“Harper, that was incredible!” she whispered, bumping her flank against his.  “I haven’t had that much fun since I was a foal!”

He offered her a tired smile of thanks before hanging his head.

Apple Bloom raised a concerned eyebrow.  “All that stompin’ tire ya right out?”

He nodded.

“All that happy screamin’ wear away your voice?”

He nodded.

“Want me to go findja a glass of water?”

He nodded.

With a flick of her tail, Apple Bloom was off, singing softly to herself as she cantered down the central aisle.

She stopped by the little tan pony’s seat on her way to the refreshment car.  He was sitting by a middle-aged, light grey mare with a straight mane of much darker grey.  Her purple eyes were resting on what Apple Bloom assumed was her son fondly.

“Charlie, is it?” Apple Bloom asked the surprisingly timid colt.  “I’m Apple Bloom.  That was some mighty impressive singin’ you did there.  Thanks for sharin’ yer talent!”

Charlie blushed and nodded.  Apple Bloom tilted her head.

“What’s wrong?  Y’ain’t gotta be scared o’ me.  Why, I’m an artist just like you.  Well, I cain’t sing quite as strong, but I draw and I paint pretty good.  So I’m movin’ up to Canterlot to go to the School of Art with my friend, Sweetie Belle!”

The boy’s grey mother perked up at the name.  “You know Sweetie Belle?” she asked.

“Yes ma’am, known her almost my whole life.  We were the best of friends back in Ponyville.  Haven’t seen her in a whole year, but now I’m gonna be livin’ with her, and we’ll be schoolmates all over again!”  She closed her eyes in a proud smile before realizing....  “Wait a minute, do you know Sweetie Belle?”

Charlie’s face cracked into a smile while his mother nodded and answered.  “Oh yes, we love Sweetie Belle.  She takes care of Charlie sometimes while his father is busy.”

“That’s great!” Apple Bloom exclaimed.  “What a slice o’ luck!  Why, I reckon we’ll be seein’ each other often, then, won’t we?”

The grey mare winced slightly.  “Well, you see, I live with my parents on the outskirts of Ponyville.  Charlie’s father lives in Canterlot.  He visits me from time to time, but I’m making sure he gets back to his father safely.”

Apple Bloom’s eyes widened.  She wanted to ask, “Y’all don’t live together?” but thought better of it.  Instead, she continued on the topic at hoof.  “So how did y’all meet Sweetie Belle, then?”

“Well, you see, my sister used to live in Ponyville.  You may have known her, actually.  I understand she was quite popular.”

“Oh?  Who’s that?”

“Her name was Pinkamena.  Pinkamena Pie.”

Apple Bloom’s smile vanished as she listened.

“I understand that Sweetie Belle was walking through the streets of Canterlot one afternoon singing a song my sister had taught her.  Something about smiling.”

Pinkie's maniacal smile threatened to rip around her teeth in Apple Bloom's mind.

“Charlie overheard her and recognized the song.  Didn’t you, Charlie?”

The foal nodded, finally gathering the courage to speak.  “I-I-I asked her if sh-she knew my Great Aunt Pin… Pink…”  He squinted with effort, making Apple Bloom’s heart ache with sympathy.  “Great Aunt Pinkie.  She said y-y-yes and came to my house.  My d-d-d-dad made her leave, though.”

The bitter ending left him with a frown.

“But she comes and visits often now,” Miss Pie assured.  “She’s been helping Charlie find his own voice.”

“Well, I daresay she’s doin’ a mighty fine job if I ever saw one!” Apple Bloom said, struggling to suppress the mess of emotions boiling between her ribs.  “I gotta go grab some water fer my friend, but it was sure a pleasure meetin’ y’all.  Hopefully I get to come visit ya with Sweetie Belle sometime, Charlie!”

The colt smiled without making eye contact while his mother nodded.

“Nice to meet you, too, young lady.  What was your name?”

“Apple Bloom,” she repeated hastily.  She flashed the pair a smile and hurried toward the refreshment cab, flexing her lower eyelids to stop unwanted tears.

After galloping through two more passenger cars, ignoring annoyed glances from their startled ponies, she found herself serendipitously alone among colorful baskets of snacks and large containers of chilled water.  She allowed a few warm tears to stream down her muzzle, wiping them away with a quivering hoof.

Pinkie’s sister?  And Charlie… he was her nephew.  Apple Bloom choked out a laugh as she realized how much sense that made.  Who else but a Pie could burst into an event-centered song like that?  Apple Bloom hadn’t realized Pinkie was still close with her family since moving away from the rock farm, but if Charlie had recognized the Smile Song, they must have spent some quality time together.  That only made the pit in Apple Bloom’s stomach sink deeper.

It also made her imagine Sweetie Belle singing through the streets of Canterlot.  She latched onto that thought, trying to muscle away the bittersweet memories of Ponyville’s party pony.  More bitter than sweet… Sweetie… focus on Sweetie Belle.

Apple Bloom painted a picture of her friend in her mind, more excited than ever to see her again.  She wondered if she’d done anything new to that curly mane since moving to Canterlot.  Through her teenage years, and to Rarity’s horror, Sweetie Belle had adopted a unique, messy style.  Her sister’s disapproval was all part of the fun, and Sweetie Belle had always loved finding new ways to have fun.

Had it really been a whole year since they’d spoken face to face?  After Sweetie Belle had finally recognized her special talent and received three silver bells on her flank, she had done little other than study music under Harper’s mother.  The magnitude of her talent was the main buzz of Ponyville for several months.  Everypony knew Sweetie Belle was going places, including the singer herself.  With Lyra’s help, she sent her application to the Canterlot School of Arts as soon as she met the age requirement.  Her acceptance, though far from a surprise, was the cause for much celebration among Sweetie’s friends and family.

That had been two years ago.  Saying goodbye to their dear friend was one of the hardest things Apple Bloom and Scootaloo had ever done, but Sweetie was perfect for Canterlot.  She and Rarity shared few similarities, but one of them was their love for big cities.  Though frequent letters kept them in contact, Apple Bloom had only seen her once when Sweetie visited on Hearth’s Warming Eve.  It was a short visit: between studying under the most acclaimed singers in Canterlot and performing at the most prestigious venues, Sweetie Belle kept a tight schedule.

But now Apple Bloom was joining the musical mare for good!  She and Sweetie Belle would room together with two other mares in a flat near the School.  Apple Bloom couldn’t remember being more excited for anything, except maybe getting her Cutie Mark after so much diligent crusading.

Apple Bloom felt cold water rush over her hoof and she yelped in surprise, dropping the overflowing paper cup.  It spilled over the refreshment car’s wooden floor and soaked a part of the green carpet running down its middle.  Face flushing, Apple Bloom grabbed several napkins with her mouth and started to wipe up the mess.  To her surprise, another wad of napkins floated down to help her, surrounded by a lake blue glow of magic.

Apple Bloom’s head whipped up and around to see what helpful unicorn had entered the car.  Unfortunately she turned in the wrong direction, smacking the top of her head against the table’s edge.

“Ow!” she shouted, dropping the soggy napkins.

A dry laugh met her flattened ears.  “Sorry,” somepony croaked.  Head pounding, Apple Bloom popped one eye open to see Harper’s apologetic smirk.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said between gritted teeth, trying to shake away the sting in her skull. “Sorry I wasn’t faster bringin’ yer water.”

Harper shook his head, magically tossing every wet napkin into the nearby trash while filling another paper cup with his hooves.  After a long drink, he spoke.  “No problem at all.  I decided to follow you up, anyway.  Needed to stretch out these friends.”

He wiggled his front legs, making Apple Bloom giggle.

“I saw you stop to talk to the little singer,” Harper continued after another swig.  “I assume he’s the Charlie of his song.”

Apple Bloom nodded before pulling a concerned face.  “My question is, who names their kid Charlie Horse?”  She remembered Granny Smith’s painful spasms while Harper laughed at her expression.

“It’s probably just a nickname,” he offered with a shrug.  “I’ve definitely heard stranger.”

Apple Bloom had to agree with that.

Harper took another drink.  “What did he say?”

“Not much.  He stutters.”  Harper raised his eyebrows.  Apple Bloom nodded honestly.  “Yeah, I thought the same thing. Guess singin’ takes it away.”

“That’s fantastic!” the unicorn cried.  “Isn’t music amazing?  Powerful stuff.”

Apple Bloom considered telling Harper about the foal’s relation to Pinkie Pie, but just the thought of saying her name sent shivers up her spine.  Harper didn’t notice, drinking the last of his water with closed eyes.

“Ahhhh!” he breathed, tossing the cup in the garbage.  “Well, let’s get back to our car.  We should reach Canterlot within the hour.  Are you excited to see Sweetie Belle?”

Her nod was genuine.  Grateful for the distraction, she began to relay some of her favorite memories of her foalhood days.  Harper cackled at her detailed account of the disastrous talent show, heartily agreeing with the judges’ bestowal of the award for Best Comedy Act.

“I can’t believe I don’t remember that,” he said as they resumed their places.

“You were real young.  Not even in school yet,” she reminded him.  “You know, Sweetie Belle was your age when she first moved to Canterlot.”

Harper nodded.  “That I do remember.  Mom was so proud to have a student of hers enter the School that young.”

“She must be real proud of you, then.  Her own son at the Canterlot School of Art fer… hmm.  Say, what are you studyin’ there, anyway?  Voice?  Percussion?”

“Harp, actually,” the stallion said with a humble grin.  “That’s what I applied with.”

Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow.  “But… yer Cutie Mark is a drum.  And you’re so good at all that, ya know, tippity-tappin’ with your hooves!”

Harper shrugged again, glancing away from Apple Bloom.  “Yeah, well… thanks,” he mumbled.  Apple Bloom wanted to press him, but his discomfort was clear.  Silently, they watched out the window as the train wound up the mountain to Canterlot’s depot, far larger than Ponyville’s modest equivalent.

Apple Bloom’s heart rate climbed with the train.  Her new life was about to start.  Any minute now, she and Sweetie Belle would begin a new and promising chapter, together again at long last!

The train began to slow.  Apple Bloom caught herself squealing.  Harper laughed, but she noticed his hooves pattering anxiously against the floorboards.

“We are now arriving in Canterlot,” a pleasant voice drifted from the trumpet-like speakers along the ceiling.  “Welcome to the Canterlot Train Station.  Please wait until the train is at a complete stop before removing your luggage from the overhead compartments.  Please note that your items may have shifted during the ride…”

The voice continued to give directions while Harper and Apple Bloom tried to calm their lungs.  As soon as they felt the lurch of the train, both young ponies sprung from their seats and snatched up their belongings.  Harper led the way to the nearest exit, balancing his harp-case on his back with magic; Apple Bloom carried her suitcase in her teeth, stuck in an elated beam.

Suddenly, Harper skidded to a stop.  Apple Bloom did the same, nearly colliding with his hind end as he smiled down at a familiar tan foal.

“Charlie,” he stated, extending his hoof, “it was an honor making music with you.  You’re quite the talented little colt.  Keep singing.”

Charlie shook the offered hoof limply, his jaw hanging open in a lopsided smile.  Once again, Apple Bloom recognized the admiration in his eyes.

Harper lifted his gaze to the grey pony on Charlie’s other side.  “He’s got real potential, ma’am.  Make sure he gets the training he needs and before you know it, we’ll see his name in lights.”

Charlie made a little squeak of delight as his mother nodded.  “I Pinkie Promise,” she told Harper with a wink.  The mint-green stallion’s brow lifted in surprise and he opened his mouth to question the pony, but Apple Bloom slammed into him from behind and together they resumed their race for the exit.

A blue-coated stallion with a similarly hued vest waited for them at the train’s open doors.  “Welcome to Canterlot,” he said as they approached, offering a courteous smile.  “Watch your step.  They've been redesigning the station to accommodate for growth.  There’s a little gap between the train and platform.”

“Thank you, sir!” Harper chirped, turning to Apple Bloom.  “Just a hop, skip, and a jump, am I right?”

Why!? Apple Bloom pleaded inwardly, but flashed her friend an agreeable smile.  Taking a deep breath, both ponies leapt through a wall of billowing steam and passed through the other side into the thick, murky air of Canterlot.

“Wait… what?” Apple Bloom asked aloud.  Sure enough, the clean, colorful train station she had been expecting was nonexistent.  In its place was a dark, smoggy, sullen platform, dotted with angry-looking ponies darting this way and that toward their respective trains.

“What in Equestria…” Harper muttered.  “Are we in the right place?”

“Apple Bloom!”  A bright, crackly voice smashed the otherwise dismal scene and reminded the farm pony of her purpose.

“Sweetie Belle?” she called out, glancing around the expansive station for the source of the happy shout.  “Where are you?”

An impressive, pale unicorn burst through a pocket of grumbling passengers trotting toward the ticket office.  Apple Bloom gasped at the sight of her friend and rushed toward her, leaving her suitcase with a still bewildered Harper.

The two grown members of the Cutie Mark Crusaders galloped nearer to one another at full speed, laughing and crying and yelping the whole way.  Finally the ponies collided in a mess of hair, hoots, and hugs.  To the newcomer’s surprise, Sweetie Belle was practically sobbing into her bright red mane.

“Sweetie Belle, don’t cry!” she said with concern, trying to quell tears of her own threatening to emerge.

“Oh, Apple Bloom!” Sweetie exclaimed.  Though her voice had deepened slightly it kept its familiar crackle, spiking into a higher register every now and then.  Apple Bloom’s heart melted to hear it.  “I’m sorry, Apple Bloom, I’m just so happy to see you!  Oh, Apple Bloom, Apple Bloom, Apple Bloom!”

“I’m here, Sweetie!  No need to call for me,” Apple Bloom said with a chuckle, nuzzling the back of her friend’s mane.

“It’s just… so good to say your name again,” Sweetie Belle said between gasps.  “To have you here and... hear it... ha!”  She started to laugh as she backed out of the embrace, a loud laugh that seemed to snap Harper out of his trance.

“Sweetie Belle!” he shouted, taking Apple Bloom’s suitcase with his tail and trotting to the happy duo.

Sweetie’s eyes widened as she frantically tried to tame her hug-damaged mane with one hoof, using the other to brush her tears away.  Apple Bloom squinted and smirked.

“Hi, Harper!” Sweetie squeaked, turning her shoulder as she smiled.  The pose made her relation to Rarity even more apparent.  “I’m so glad you made it safely!”

“Well, I had to keep a close eye on your friend here,” he teased, tossing Apple Bloom her luggage.  “She was so excited to see you she nearly jumped the train halfway up the mountain.”

“Did not!” Apple Bloom retorted, quickly adding, “but I was so excited to see you.  I still am!”

They laughed together while Apple Bloom got a firm hold on her case, rolling it behind her as Sweetie Belle led them to the large station’s entrance beneath a giant clock.  The Ponyvilleans pupils’ shrunk at the state of Canterlot as they entered its once regal streets, cringing at the obscene graffiti covering most of the eye-level bricks.

“Sweetie Belle…” Apple Bloom muttered.  “Wha… what happened to this place?”

Sweetie pulled a too-happy smile and glared at her companions meaningfully.  “What are you talking about, Apple Bloom?  Don’t you just love Canterlot?  Are you two hungry at all?”

They blinked.  Without breaking her smile, Sweetie Belle grunted.  “Because I’m hungry,” she continued, “and I just finished baking a cauliflower casserole back at my apartment!  And now your apartment, Apple Bloom!  Care to join us for dinner, Harper?”

“What’re you talkin’ about, Sweetie Belle?  You’re a terrible cook.”

Sweetie Belle’s laugh was shrill and unnatural.  “Oh, don’t be silly!  I’ve gotten much better since I moved here.  Come on, let’s hurry!  I think I left it in the oven.”

“But you said you just finished bak—”

“I’m starving, let’s go!” Sweetie nearly shrieked, hurrying behind her friends and pushing them forward.  

The trio weaved through the murky streets of the city at a quick trot.  Sweetie was careful to avoid the unusually prevalent Canterlot guards stationed on nearly every corner.  Their armor was darker than Apple Bloom remembered.  All nerves were tense by the time they reached a winding street with a familiar name: Quarterhorse Lane.  Despite Sweetie Belle’s strange behavior, Apple Bloom felt a twinge of excitement as they turned onto the street she had been imagining for months.

Though far from the bright, shiny street of Sweetie’s letters, Quarterhorse Lane was admittedly better maintained than the Canterlot behind them.  They made their way to Building 4 and climbed a set of metal stairs to the second story, following Sweetie Belle to door 8.  She used her magic to pull a key from the fashionable saddlebag hanging at her side.  With it she opened the dull green door and ushered her friends inside.  Once all three were the through, she slammed it shut and expelled a huge sigh of relief.

“Be.  More.  CAREFUL!” she shouted at Apple Bloom, catching the earth pony off guard.  “You can’t go insulting the city like that!  You never know when a guard is listening.”  She shuddered as she leaned against the wall, exhausted from their relatively short walk.

Apple Bloom was still confused, and now slightly offended.  “Honestly, Sweetie, what in the world are you talkin’ about?  Why should I care if the guards hear me er not?”

Sweetie groaned sadly as her ears dropped.  “I’m sorry, Apple Bloom.  I shouldn’t have shouted.  I forget you don’t know about the… changes.”

Visibly shaken, Harper planted his flank on Sweetie’s light purple couch and sat back in his unusual manner.  “What changes, Sweetie Belle?  What happened to Canterlot?”

With a heavy sight, Sweetie Belle dropped her saddlebag on the front rug and walked to Apple Bloom’s side, rubbing the top of her forlorn head against her thick red mane.

“Sweetie,” Apple Bloom asked tenderly, noticing the tears in her soft green eyes, “when did all this happen?  Your letters never said nothin’ about Canterlot fallin’ to pieces.”

“They check the mail sometimes,” Sweetie explained in a whimper.  “I couldn’t risk it.”

Harper shook his head in bafflement.  “Come on Sweetie, I need some answers!  This doesn’t make any sense.  Who checks the mail?  What do they check for?  What would they do if someone ‘insulted the city’?  Why would the Princesses let this happen?”

Sweetie Belle’s eyes were full of fear as she looked at the ruffled unicorn.

“The Princesses are gone, Harper,” she managed to say.  “Twilight sent them to the Moon.”
	
> 3 - Culture Shock
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


CHAPTER THREE
CULTURE SHOCK


It took a while for Sweetie Belle to calm down enough to eat.  As it turned out, she really had been cooking a cauliflower casserole, and to Apple Bloom’s surprise it was delicious.  Hers and Harper’s genuine compliments lifted Sweetie's spirits.  Around the circular glass dinner table in the flat’s small, decorated dining room, she tried to describe the last two years of her life.

“I was just as shocked as you,” she started, nudging her plate with her nose, “when I first got here.  It wasn’t half as bad back then; it seems to get worse every day.  But still, I could tell something was wrong right away.  There were guards everywhere and ponies seemed afraid of them.  I didn’t find out why for a few weeks.”

She swallowed hard, though she hadn’t taken a bite of her casserole for several minutes.

“I was coming home from a concert one night—not a concert I sang in, but one of my teachers had all of her students attend a cantata down at the theatre—anyway, I was walking home alone and way down the street I saw a crowd of ponies holding torches and signs with Twilight’s face on them.  Our Twilight, Apple Bloom!  But they had added fangs or painted big red X’s… I thought it was awful.  I ran toward the crowd with half a mind to tell them all to go home, or at least find out what all the fuss was about.  But before I even got close… they started to attack them.”

“They who?” Harper asked.  “The royal guards?”

Sweetie Belle nodded.  “Night guards, the ponies with leathery wings like a bat.  They didn’t even warn them!  They didn’t tell them to stop first or… I don’t know, they could have just yelled at them or something.  But they dove in from the sky and started killing these ponies!”  Her eyes widened.  “Killing them, Apple Bloom!  Right in front of me!  Not just kicking or biting or pushing them… they killed eight ponies that night!”

Her tears were welling again.  Apple Bloom placed a caring hoof on top of her friend’s and urged her to continue.

Sweetie Belle closed her eyes and took a deep, focusing breath.  “I was terrified.  I ran home and locked the door and told my roommates all about it.  They were sad but didn’t seem very surprised; they all grew up in Canterlot and had seen the changes take place since Twilight joined the Princesses here.”

“How long ago was that?” Harper asked.  Sweetie Belle looked to Apple Bloom, who had always been better with numbers.

“Uh…”  Apple Bloom hesitated for a moment, though she knew the answer almost to the day.  “About five years, I think.”

Harper nodded and turned his attention back to Sweetie Belle.

“My roommates said that used to be pretty common,” she continued.  “The anti-Twilight marches, I mean.  Most ponies blame her for Canterlot’s problems.  I guess that when she moved here the Princesses stopped coming out of their palace.  All the galas and socials were cancelled and nopony was allowed inside for any reason.  After a while, with no sign of the Princesses, ponies started stealing and forming gangs.  That’s when the guards started patrolling the city.  They didn’t seem to do anything, though; even with the guards, crime went up and up.

“And then the killings started.  They said at first it was hesitant, like the guards were fulfilling an order they didn’t want to do.  It was never in any newspapers, but everypony knew about it.  For a while there was a bit of an uprising, but the guards hurt so many ponies that it died down.

“That’s about when I moved here.  Most ponies were afraid of the guards; the rest were killed.  The march that night was the only one I ever saw.  It might have been the last.”

Sweetie Belle paused long enough for Harper to request clarifications.

“So everypony hates Twilight?  Even though she’s a Princess?”

Both mares shot him a spiteful look.  “Twilight is not a Princess,” Sweetie Belle nearly growled.  “The Princesses loved their subjects.  They took care of us.  All Twilight does is hide in her castle and send out her guards to put down rebellion.”

Now Apple Bloom gave Sweetie Belle the same offended glance.  “Sweetie!  How can you say that?  Twilight is our friend!  She’d never do nothin’ to hurt nopony.”

Sweetie’s face paled even lighter as she bowed her head.  “Not anymore.”

“Did she really send the Princesses to the Moon?” Harper whispered.

Sweetie Belle nodded without looking up.  Her horn began to glow.  A piece of paper floated to the table from a drawer in the kitchen, crumpled into a ball.  The magic flattened the notice out until it was readable again.  Apple Bloom and Harper leaned in for a closer look.

OFFICIAL DECLARATION from PRINCESS SPARKLE blared the header in regal, curly mouthwriting.  Harper read the rest aloud.

“My Loyal Subjects,” he began.  Apple Bloom grimaced.  “It is with pride I send this Declaration to every citizen of Equestria to explain and rejoice with you over the recent conquering of a dangerous threat to your wellbeing.  The alicorns you once called your Princesses have been condemned of heinous crimes.  With the power of the Elements of Harmony, I have banished them to the surface of the Moon where they shall remain, far from my beloved subjects, for all eternity.  Through extensive investigation, their reign was discovered to be founded on lies, deception, and wickedness.  I assure you that they are a poison to our great nation no longer.  Let us celebrate this victory as I assume their duties; the Days and Nights of Equestria will continue in safety and peace.”

“Your Princess of the Dusk,” mocked Sweetie Belle, “Twilight Sparkle.”

The three sat still in very different forms of silence.  Sweetie Belle’s green eyes seethed; Harper fought the urge to pinch himself; Apple Bloom simply added the news to her growing list of unwanted changes.

“Are you kidding me?” Harper suddenly exploded, slamming his forehooves onto the table.  Apple Bloom winced, hoping he hadn’t cracked the glass.  “Twilight Sparkle is the only Ruler of Equestria?  When did this happen?  Why hasn’t Ponyville heard about this?  About any of this?”

Apple Bloom turned to Sweetie Belle, equally curious at Ponyville’s obliviousness to the change in regime.

Sweetie bit her lip before answering.  “Actually… Ponyville technically isn’t part of Equestria anymore.”

“WHAT?”

Sweetie sighed.  “I guess I’m not surprised you haven’t noticed.  Ponyville was never exactly a tourist attraction.”  She lifted her head, shifting her eyes back and forth between the blue and amber pairs before her.  “Nopony’s been allowed to visit Ponyville for more than a year.  I had the hardest time getting permission to come home that first Hearth’s Warming Eve.  I had to swear I wouldn’t talk about Canterlot, and I couldn’t be gone more than two days.  That next year there was another Declaration; one of the first, actually.”

“How many have there been?” Harper asked, incredulous.

“I don’t know… a lot,” Sweetie Belle said.  “I don’t keep all of them.”

“What’d it say?  Was it about Ponyville?” Apple Bloom asked.

“It basically said Ponyville was off-limits,” said Sweetie.  “I think it said something about it being… quarantined.”

“Quarentinin’ Ponyville?” Apple Bloom shouted.  “What for?”

“I don’t know!” Sweetie Belle cried.  “Don’t you think I want to know?  Maybe Twilight just hates to remember where she used to be a good mare, and she doesn’t want anypony under her command to feel the happiness in Ponyville.”

Apple Bloom and Harper exchanged a knowing look.  “Actually, Sweetie Belle, Ponyville ain’t what it used to be.  Things have gotten…”

“Quiet,” finished Harper.  Apple Bloom nodded.

“I reckon we have been affected by all this hoopla,” she continued with a hint of malice, “whether or not we’re still part of Equestria.”

Sweetie Belle’s face dropped onto the glass by her cold plate.  “I don’t know what to do,” she moaned.  “I’m so miserable here, but they won’t let me go home.”

“Why didn’t you warn us?” Harper asked.  “I know you said they check the mail, probably double check if it’s going to Ponyville, but couldn’t you have sent us a secret message or something?”

Her head popped up as she scoffed at his suggestion.  “What, and be here in the new Tartarus all alone for the rest of my life?  I don’t think so!  I needed my friends!”  She seemed to realize how selfish it sounded and her lip began to quiver.  “I… I’m just so scared!”

Apple Bloom hurried around the table and leaned lovingly against her friend.  “It’s all right, Sweetie.  We understand.  I’m glad I’m here to be with ya, no matter what the city’s like or what’s really happened to the Princesses.  It’s so good to see you again.”

Harper caught her words.  “You mean you don’t think Twilight actually sent the Princesses to the Moon?”

Apple Bloom shook her head.  “There’s no way.  I don’t know what all this Declaration foo-faw is about, but I don’t buy a word of it.  There’s gotta be somethin’ else goin’ on in that palace.  I bet if we jus’ wait it out, everything’ll fit itself back together with time.”

Sweetie Belle sniffed.  “You think so?”

“I sure do,” Apple Bloom lied.


(/\/\)


Harper left later that night to find his own apartment.  He had expressed worry that the guards would arrest him on his way, but Sweetie Belle expounded on their duties: there was no curfew in Canterlot, though the streets were often empty when the cold Moon rose.  The guards never bothered average citizens and barely lifted a hoof against muggings or the like.  They only sprung into action when somepony spoke up against Princess Twilight, her regime, or her cities.

“I’ll try my best to hold it in,” he had teased before leaving, back to his jovial self, though Apple Bloom could see the tense confusion behind his eyes.  She resolved to talk it through with him later, without Sweetie Belle’s presence.  Despite her love for the poor pony, Sweetie had lived in this warped version of Canterlot long enough to fray her edges.  Apple Bloom and Harper were in the same boat, bobbing in the middle of a suddenly stormy sea where they had been expecting a serene lake of learning.

“Sweetie Belle,” she addressed her old friend and new roommate, “why don’tcha show me around the place?  I oughtta get to know my new home, don’tcha think?”

“Of course!” Sweetie Belle chimed, taking her friend on a quick tour of the tiny flat.  It included two bedrooms, each with two beds (“We’ll take this one here, and our new friends can have that one!  Ours has better acoustics for me and better light for you, I checked”), a shared bathroom with one large sink, a connected kitchen-and-dining-room, and a square front area that Sweetie Belle insisted they call their “living room.”

“I hope the new girls don’t mind my decorating,” she admitted, glancing around at her expensive furniture and homey additions to the apartment.

“Have ya met either of ‘em?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Not yet, but I’ve exchanged letters with both.  One’s from here and the other’s from Manehattan.  She’s a violinist: the one from Manehattan, I mean.  The local is an artist like you!”  She beamed, and Apple Bloom had to admit it was an exciting thought.

“Didja live in this same place last semester?”

“Mm-hm,” Sweetie hummed.  “I’m the only one that stayed.  One girl graduated, one got married, and the other moved in with an old friend that finally got accepted after trying for three years!  Isn’t that precious?”

“It’s good to know that life is still chuggin’ along around here,” Apple Bloom said, “even though everything’s gone to the Diamond Dogs.”

“We’re the lucky ones,” Sweetie told her.  “Us college kids are the least affected by what’s been happening, especially at the School of Art.  We stay pretty busy and focused on our craft, I guess.  Makes it all easier to cope with.”

Apple Bloom thought three days ahead to her first day of school, trying to gauge her emotions.  First she was nervous, but Sweetie had good advice on how to find classrooms and shortcuts across campus.  Second came doubt: was she good enough to learn among so many talented mares and stallions?  Would her style be treated with admiration as it was in Ponyville, or would she be ridiculed?  And thirdly, she hoped the cafeteria food was tolerable.  Sweetie assured her it was, but the toast-drinking unicorn’s word was hard for the seasoned farmer to take, whether or not her cooking skills had greatly improved.

“D’ya reckon I’ll like my professors?” Apple Bloom asked after pulling her schedule from her luggage.

“Will you ever!” Sweetie said, rummaging through a narrow bookcase in the living room.  “The teachers here are incredible, especially the ones that teach the Freshpony classes.  I’m still good friends with my Music One-Oh-One professor.  I’ll have to make sure you meet Octavia, Apple Bloom, you’ll just love her.  She used to play at all the Princesses’ galas, and, boy, does she have some funny stories… oh, here it is!”

Using her horn, Sweetie Belle levitated a map of the School of Art’s campus from the bookcase to the counter, smoothing it out beside Apple Bloom’s schedule.

“Since you’re a Visual Arts major, most of your classes will be over in these buildings,” she explained, touching her hoof against a pocket of westernmost squares on the map.  “Where’s your first class?  Read the line on your schedule.”

Apple Bloom found it.  “It says ‘History of the Paintbrush: From Hoof to Mouth’ in the Horace Fine Arts Center, Room…”  She ogled the number.  “Room Three Thousand and Twelve?”

Sweetie Belle laughed at her terror.  “Don’t worry, Bloom.  That only means it’s on the third floor; there aren’t actually three thousand rooms.  I have classes in that building, too!  See, it’s right here in the center of campus!”

She continued to snicker as Apple Bloom shook away her shock, eyeing the large, oblong mark in the middle of the map that represented the “HFAC.”

“The Horace Fine Arts Center, huh?” she mumbled to herself.

“We call it the HFAC,” Sweetie corrected.  

It was Apple Bloom’s turn to giggle.  “Aitch-fack?  You got silly nicknames fer all the buildings?”

“Sure do!” Sweetie squeaked.  “I know it sounds dumb, but it makes it all a lot easier when you get more familiar with the School.  Just you wait; by the end of the first quarter, you’ll fit right in with the herd!”

Apple Bloom sighed as Sweetie Belle bounced to the kitchen.  Her bubbly attitude in the face of so much adversity was starting to rub Apple Bloom the wrong way.  It reminded her too much of another curly-maned pony….  

She wiped away an automatic scowl when Sweetie reentered the room several minutes later, breaking Apple Bloom’s paralyzing trance.

Her first sleep in Canterlot was a peaceful one despite the day’s downpour of strange, bad news.  Perhaps the true terrors of the new regime hadn’t settled in yet, or maybe her stubborn refusal to believe in Twilight’s tyrannical transformation kept her conscience at bay.  Either way, she slept soundly in her new bed, unaware that her nights would not be restful for long.


(/\/\)


Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle hurried through the chilly rain.  Though Sweetie’s levitating umbrella protected them from above, the sideways winds sprayed their coats with dirty water.  Distant thunder drummed over the city and its hurried inhabitants.  Despite the awful weather, the streets were dotted with young Canterlotians galloping toward a mutual destination: the Canterlot School of Art.

“Why’d they schedule rain on a day like this?” Apple Bloom whispered in her friend’s close ear.  “You’d think that with Twilight in charge, of all ponies, the first day of school would have a nice sunny sky!”

“The weather isn’t managed very well anymore,” Sweetie answered, balancing her voice between a cautious whisper and being heard over the wail of the storm.  “The unicorns in charge went on strike when the Anti-Twilight marches were at their peak.  Few of them came back.”

Because they didn’t want to, or because they were killed?  Apple Bloom didn’t ask.

The friends reached campus and briefly hugged before scampering toward their respective buildings.  Both of their first classes started at nine o’clock but were far apart inside the School’s hedged boundaries.  Left without an umbrella, Apple Bloom practically flew through the pouring rain toward a huge, glass-covered building at the center of it all.  Thanks to Sweetie Belle’s helpful tour of campus the day before, she knew exactly which entrance was closest to a staircase.  They had spent hours mapping out routes to her first day’s classes.  As long as her memory didn’t fail her, Apple Bloom was confident in all respects of navigation.

She burst through the front doors and sighed with relief, preparing to shake the rainwater out of her mane.

“Hey!  What do you think you’re doing?” asked a nasally voice.  Apple Bloom froze in a tilted position, glancing toward the perplexed squeal.

“Uh… gettin’ dry,” she answered with a weak smile.

“I hope you don’t mean shaking like a dog,” the rose-red pony continued in a snobby tone that reminded Apple Bloom of Diamond Tiara.  “There are other ponies around, you know!”

Apple Bloom observed the natural-lit foyer, humiliated by the faces of disgust from dozens of ponies her age.

“But…” she stammered.  “But I’m soaked t’the bone!”

“Well then maybe you should consider bringing an umbrella when it’s raining,” her primary accuser sneered, followed by a laugh from the posh-looking posse all around her.  Apple Bloom glowered at the group, storming away to find a bathroom where she could dry her mane in peace.

“Stupid bully,” Apple Bloom mumbled, throwing open the door to the mare’s restroom.  “I can rattle myself dry any ol’ place I feel like it.”

She slammed her forehead against the hoof-dryer’s button.  A loud column of warm air shot out from its underside.  Somewhat awkwardly, she managed to lower her head beneath the box, letting it whip the water from her long red hair.

“I guess it woulda been a mite inconsiderate of me to shake out so close to everypony,” Apple Bloom admitted to herself as the artificial wind blew around her face.  With a prideful huff, she jerked her head in the opposite direction to dry the other half of her mane.  “But she sure coulda said it a bit nicer!  What do you think you’re doing?” she mimicked in the pony’s high-pitched whine.  “I hope you don’t mean shaking like a daaaawwg.”

Somepony laughed from one of the bathroom stalls.  “Is that supposed to be Velvet?  You sound just like her!”

Embarrassed again, Apple Bloom stepped out from underneath the hoof-dryer as it stopped blowing, moving to the mirror to check her appearance.  Now her hair was frizzy and wild.  It looked for all the world like a big tangled mess of red yarn on top of her head.  She attempted to smooth it out with her hooves while responding to the restroom’s other inhabitant.

“If Velvet is the rosy mare with the bad attitude, then yeah,” she grunted, hiding her embarrassment.

“Yep, that’d be her!” a feminine voice answered.  “Did you get caught in the rain?”

“My roommate had an umbrella fer both of us,” Apple Bloom explained in a friendlier tone, “but her class is on the other side of campus.  I had run through the rain for a spell and nearly shook dry by the front.”

The stall door opened, revealing a tall, cream-coated pony with a short cropped, neon green mane that seared Apple Bloom’s eyes at first glance.  The stranger stepped to her side, rinsing her hooves in one of the porcelain sinks.

“Sorry she snapped at you,” the mare offered genuinely.  “She’s one of my roommates this semester.  Not the nicest pony, but she’s a really great artist.  Paints nature, mostly.  Not too good at animals, but oh!  You should see this one she has hanging on her wall of the Moon!  Oh, it is beautiful.”  She smiled at the ceiling for a moment before turning her full attention back to Apple Bloom.  “Gosh, you sure have a thick mane!”

“Runs in the family,” the farm pony said with an unhappy smirk.

The tap turned off by itself when the creamy mare removed her hooves.  Technology sure was getting fancy, Apple Bloom thought to herself, staring at the faucet’s sensors while the other mare dried her dripping hooves one at a time.

“You can use this, if you’d like.”  The earth pony reached into one of the saddlebags on her back and removed a large red brush with clean, black bristles.  Apple Bloom nodded shyly, allowing the mare to spend two minutes restyling her turbulent locks.

“There,” she said decisively, tossing the brush back into her bag.  “All better!  And might I say, you have very lovely eyes.  I’ve never seen any that color before!”

Apple Bloom glanced at her own amber eyes in the mirror’s reflection, briefly admiring them along with her tamed mane.  “Thank ya kindly, ma’am,” she said, “fer the help and the compliment.  What’s yer name?”

“Creamsicle, and you’re very welcome.”  She beamed.  “I love working with manes.  I want to be a manestylist, after all.”

“Ya do?”  Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow.  “What’re ya doin’ at the School of Art?”

“Modeling!” Creamsicle exclaimed.  “I go to the Beauty School across town, but I live with three ponies who come here.  One of them volunteered me to model for her Portrait class!  Apparently there’s some sort of exam thingy on the first day so the professor can see where all his students are at, y’know, talent-wise.  And I have a unique look; pretty fun to draw.”  She ran a hoof across her short green hair proudly.  “Anyway, I better be off!  The classroom’s up a couple stories and it’s nearly nine o’clock.  What was your name, again?”

The pony talked a thousand words a minute.  Apple Bloom had to shake her head once to jumpstart her brain back into the conversation.  “Apple Bloom,” she answered with a weak smile.  Though she was grateful for Creamsicle’s kindness, she wasn’t sure they could ever be good friends.

“Lovely to meet you!”  Just before she left the bathroom, Creamsicle turned her face halfway toward Apple Bloom, looking at her with one bright eye.  “That really was a good impression of Velvet, by the way.  You have a talent there!”  She left before Apple Bloom could thank her again.

She looked in the mirror one last time and trotted into the hallway.  She had never considered her impressions a talent before.  Applejack was the same way; mimicking accents came easily to the Apple sisters.  Recognizing the shared gift stuck a pleasant grin on Apple Bloom’s mouth as she walked the empty halls toward her classroom.

The staircases to the third floor were longer than she remembered, and for a building so large and well-lit, the halls were short, numerous, and confusing.  By the time the yellow mare finally found Room 3012, she was the only pony in the narrow hallways.  Already a full minute late, she wiggled the silver door open in a panic and gasped at what lay behind.

“Classroom” was an improper term for the hub of her History class.  “Auditorium” suited it better.  Hundreds of large desks built for fully grown ponies rose on a multi-leveled, semi-circle slope around the professor’s podium.  Apple Bloom had entered at the back of the class and found herself staring at a middle-aged unicorn far below with a blonde-and-grey mane much like Applejack’s, formally addressing the student body.  His eyes, the color of which Apple Bloom couldn’t make out from such a distance, swiveled toward her noisy entrance.

“—and tardy students,” he continued from his interrupted sentence, “will be required to sit in the front row.”  He nodded expectantly at the hot-faced mare before returning to his introduction.  “Final grades will be determined from five factors: unit essays, one major project, weekly vocab quizzes, the Final Exam, and lecture attendance.  If the role doesn’t make its way to you during class, it’s your responsibility to locate and sign it before you leave, or you will be marked absent.”

His tone was stern, but kind.  Apple Bloom hardly took notice of it as she stumbled down the blocky staircase-aisle toward the indoor amphitheater’s first level of desks, wary of the wide, critical stares from nearly four hundred seated ponies.  The unwanted attention was almost enough to prod tears, but she managed to make it all the way down and clamber into an empty seat with relative stoicism.  From her single saddlebag attached around her waist, Apple Bloom drew out a small notebook and a yellow pencil, preparing the tools on her punishing desk to take studious notes on her very first lecture.

From her much closer position, Apple Bloom could see that the stallion’s eyes were actually two colors: the right iris was a soft azure shade that stood out against his chocolate coat, but it was put to shame by the shocking pink of his left.  She had never seen a pony with two different eye colors, and for a moment she couldn’t help but stare as the professor outlined his class’s rubric with practiced perfection.  Whenever he said something particularly important to her grade, Apple Bloom jotted a succinct note on the pad of paper, flexing her lips as quickly as she could while maintaining readable mouthwriting.

Fifteen minutes into the hour, Apple Bloom had forgotten about her poor first impression.  Her professor’s light personality and engaging speaking style boosted her excitement for the potentially boring History class.  If she understood him right, the class’s title was somewhat of a misconception; they would be covering much more than the History of the Paintbrush.  Apple Bloom was grateful for that.

Suddenly the bell rang from the hallway.  Class was over… Apple Bloom had survived (and even enjoyed) her first lecture of college!  She broke into a victorious grin and gathered her materials, replacing them neatly in her saddlebag as the surrounding sea of ponies migrated up and out of the auditorium.

A paper ball that bounced against the side of her head.  Looking up into the mobile audience for its owner, she spotted a skinny, light red pegasus who flashed her a mockingly welcome leer as Apple Bloom set an angry brow.  Velvet.  She turned away from the bully and finished her packing, readying herself to sprint up the staircase.

Her conscience slammed on the brakes, pushing a line of her teacher’s speech into the active parts of her mind: “It’s your responsibility to sign the role.”

The name-covered clipboard must have started at the front row.  Through the entire hour, it never found its way to Apple Bloom’s hooves.  With a disgruntled click of her tongue, she pushed herself high enough to spin around on her back hooves and trotted to her professor’s podium.  The older pony was standing behind his mahogany centerpiece with one hoof resting on its edge, watching his departing students with those strangest of eyes.

“Uh, excuse me, Mister… ‘scuse me?” Apple Bloom asked messily over the din of the room, realizing she didn’t know the stallion’s name.  His focus shifted to her exasperated expression.  “Um, sorry to bother ya, but… ya said t’make sure we signed the role, and I was wond’rin’ if you knew where it was.  ‘Cause I was late, see—sorry about that, won’t happen again—and I didn’t get t’sign it when it first went around.  So…”

The professor’s eyes locked on Apple Bloom’s face for several silent seconds, pushing the bounds of her comfort, before he nodded thoughtfully.

“The role is on the sixth level,” he said, pointing a hoof in its general direction without taking his eyes from Apple Bloom.  “From where are you?”

The question’s unusual phrasing caught her off guard.  “Uh… Ponyville,” she answered, drawing in a little gasp as she remembered the town’s Equestrian banishment.  Thankfully, the patient professor seemed to harbor no malice for Ponyville, nodding again as he gathered up the notecards on the podium with his magic.

By the time Apple Bloom found, signed, and returned the clipboard to her history professor, every other pony had exited the auditorium.  She cleared her throat as she dropped the role on the top of the podium, reading some of its first page’s content.  Helpfully, the top displayed her teacher’s name: Doctor Joe Cossitee.

“Doctor Cossitee?” Apple Bloom started.

“Hmm?” the professor asked, snapping one lock of his briefcase together.

“I really am sorry I was late t’yer class, especially on the first day.  Didn’t know I’d be so interruptive by crashin’ through the back door.  Hope you’cn forgive me.”

The dark brown pony smiled and left his briefcase half unlatched to face his new student.

“Apple Bloom, is it?” he asked politely.  She nodded in surprise.  “I figured by your Cutie Mark.  I appreciate the apology, Miss Bloom, but it’s really not a problem.  It’s always hard to find classes during your first few weeks of school.  I completely understand.  No, it’s me that should be apologizing, singling you out in front of the whole class like that.  The only forgiving here should come from you, if you’re willing to give it.”

The mare’s shiny pupils darted from the sincerity in Doctor Cossitee’s blue eye to the genuineness in his pink one.  She opened her mouth with full intention to openly forgive him, but what came out was “Why’re yer eyes different colors?”  She covered the lower half of her face with her hooves, dropping her head in shame.

Doctor Cossitee’s laugh was as rich as the color of his coat.  “No need for that!  My father had blue eyes and my mother had pink.  For one reason or another, both genes won a piece of my face.  They weren’t the last to fight over it, if you know what I mean.”  He winked with his pink eye, making Apple Bloom giggle.  “See?  I’m not a big scary professor.  I wish you kids would stop looking at me like one.”

Guilty as charged, Apple Bloom tried to rearrange her expression into a less intimidated one.  The result was poorer than Dawn and Terra Dolce’s.  Cossitee tossed his head back and laughed from his gut.

“I think I’m going to like you, Apple Bloom,” he mused with an approving grin.  “As long as you manage that tardiness problem.”

The joke was met with a playful scoff.  “You think I have a tardiness problem?  You should meet a mare from back home.”  Her smile soon fell.

“You miss Ponyville?” Doctor Cossitee asked, taking her silence as a homesick one.

“Yeah,” she half-lied, changing the origin of her pout.  “But more I guess I just miss bein’ a filly.”

“Don’t we all?”  Above a nostalgic smile, Cossitee sighed through his nostrils.  “When I first went to college, I studied to be an elementary school teacher.  I wanted to play a role in that most important phase of a young pony’s life.”

Her curiosity peaked.  “When’d ya decide to be a college teacher?  Was it when ya got yer Cutie Mark?”

One corner of the stallion’s mouth lifted.  “Actually, I never got my Cutie Mark.”

Apple Bloom’s jaw dropped as he twisted around, evidencing his entirely blank flank.

“But… but…” Apple Bloom stuttered.  “But you’re a full grown pony!  Twice as old as me!  What happened?  Didn’tcha ever find yer special talent?”

“Oh, I found plenty of special talents,” he assured her.  “I’m one of the only ponies I know who can play the piano, and I’m told I have a knack for public speaking.  But nothing ever showed up on my flank.”

“Weren’t ya made fun of as a colt?” Apple Bloom whispered.

Cossitee’s eyes darkened as he nodded.  “Oh, yes.  Severely.”  His characteristic half-smile reappeared.  “But I had friends that showed me I was special, with or without the customary proof.”

The former Cutie Mark Crusader could hardly believe it.  She thought back to the days when she would have risked limb and tail for her Mark.  What would it be like to try all those things and wait all that time, only to discover that your flank would stay blank forever?

“I’m so sorry,” she muttered, feeling her brow strain over her eyes.  “I cain’t imagine…”

She felt a hoof pat the top of her hanging head.  “In many ways, Apple Bloom, you are still a filly.  I’m not bothered by my lack of a Cutie Mark, and you have no reason to be.”  He lifted her chin with a gentle hoof and looked into her titled eyes.  “Now gallop along to your next class,” he added with an amiable smile, “and I’ll see you here on time Wednesday morning.”
	
> 4 - That'll Be the Day
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


CHAPTER FOUR
THAT’LL BE THE DAY


The School Dance was coming up fast.  Scootaloo was going with Rumble, the cutest pegasus colt in Ponyville.  Sweetie Belle was going with Chip Mint, whose thick brown mane always looked fantastic.

And Apple Bloom?  She wasn’t going with anypony.  Not because she wasn’t asked, but she would rather sit alone at home than go with the colt that asked her.

“He really ain’t that bad,” Applejack tried to comfort her.  “Sure, he’s a little slow in the noggin, but he’s a real nice little stallion.”

“Are we thinkin’ about the same pony here?” Apple Bloom questioned her sister.  “Because I was just asked to the most important dance o’ my whole life by Snails!  Ya know, let’s-bring-an-Ursa-to-Trixie Snails?  Eat-the-carrots-in-the-middle-o’-the-trick Snails?  Trippin’ over his own lanky legs Snails?  Snails!  Ponyfeathers!”  She slammed her back hoof against the wall of her clubhouse where Applejack had found her crying, breaking off a sizeable chunk of the wood.

“Apple Bloom!” her sister scolded.  “Ya can’t go losin’ yer temper like that now that yer nearly an adult.  Look at what you’ve done!”  Both ponies turned to stare at the hole.  Applejack tilted her head to one side.  “That’s actually a pretty clean kick, Sis.  You been practicin’ apple buckin’ between projects?”

Apple Bloom scowled at her sister’s attempt to switch topics, landing on her rump with a painful thud.  “I’ll be so embarrassed,” she wailed as hormonal tears wiggled in her eyes.  “Diamond Tiara will call him my coltfriend for as long as I live.”

“Who’s she goin’ with?” Applejack asked.

“She hasn’t decided yet,” Apple Bloom sneered, adopting her enemy’s snobby voice.  “So many colts have asked her, she doesn’t know hooow she’s ehhhhhver going to decide.”

Applejack laughed.  “Why’re ya lettin’ that little brat get on yer nerves again?  She’s been that way since before you got yer Cutie Mark, remember?  Golly, some things never change.”  She shook her head, thinking to herself as Apple Bloom continued to weep and seethe.

“I’m not goin’ to the dance,” Apple Bloom said.  “In fact, I think I’ll stay right here in the clubhouse until the whole thing’s done and over with.”

Applejack sighed.  “Apple Bloom,” she said again in a worried and caring tone, “it’s just one dance.  You know Snails has liked you fer years, along with every other colt in Ponyville!  I bet some poor little pony is bashin’ his head against the wall right now, wishin’ he woulda asked ya sooner.”

“I wish so, too,” Apple Bloom huffed, though the thought made her smile.

“It would mean the world to Snails if you said yes, and we both know it,” Applejack continued.  “You just gotta buck up, quit yer whinin’, and be the kind, selfless pony I know and love so very much.”

“I ain’t kind or selfless,” Apple Bloom said.

“Oh?  What about the time ya let Sweetie Belle be my sister fer a day at the Sisterhooves Social?”

“That wasn’t even real.  All part of a plan.”

“But you went through with it to help yer friend!  And what about the time ya admitted to takin’ Heart’s Desire from Zecora?”

“I prob’ly woulda DIED of exhaustion if I didn’t!” Apple Bloom argued.  “And what the hay does that have to do with me bein’ a kind or selfless pony?”

“Stop that right now, you silly filly!” Applejack said, stomping her right hoof.  “I don’t wanna hear any more excuses.”

“But—”

“Apple Bloom, you are a good pony,” Applejack said, slow and firm.  “I know that when yer faced with a tough decision, you’re gonna make the right choice.”

The silenced mare sniffled once.  “How do you know that?”

“Because you’re an Apple,” she answered with a smile.  “But more importantly, you are a good pony.”

A bump appeared on Applejack's forehead, just below the brim of her hat.

“You are a good pony.”

As the bump swelled, the hat tilted and started to slide from Applejack's mane.  She sounded so distant.  Apple Bloom tried to reach out and straighten the hat.  Why couldn’t she feel it falling?

“You are a good pony.”

The phrase was muffled now; more bumps appeared, this time on her back.  Her hat fell to the ground; springy, pink locks of hair sprouted from where it had been.  The bumps above her ribs exploded and covered the mare in tangled feathers.  Apple Bloom moved forward to save her sister from suffocation, separating the bizarre feathers enough to stare into their new victim’s huge blue eyes.

“Apple Bloom?”  Her voice was so innocent and so scared.  Where was its familiar ring?  Its bubbly resonance?  Where was the laugh waiting eagerly behind every word?

“Apple Bloom?”  Her eyes began to glow.  "What's happening?"

FLASH.

I am a bad pony.


(/\/\)


Someone bumped against the cushioned chair where Apple Bloom was dreaming.  She woke with a yelp and glanced around, ready to karate chop.  To her relief and embarrassment, the library’s only other occupants were fellow students of the Arts.

She gave her small, startled audience an apologetic smile before snatching up her satchel and galloping away.  After her last class of the day, she had stopped by the library across from the HFAC to browse around, awestruck by its enormous collection.  The building was mostly underground, hiding its vastness from passerby.  As a filly, Apple Bloom had believed that Ponyville’s Golden Oaks Library held every volume ever written.  Now the old tree seemed minuscule compared to the college’s trove.

On a curious whim, Apple Bloom had started reading “Popular Pony Painters of the Pre-Classical Period,” unaware of her emotional and physical exhaustion.  The pressures of moving and her first day of college had closed in as she read on a comfortable chair, falling fast asleep before the end of the first chapter.

The storm had died down during her slumber.  As she hurried out the library’s front doors and into the remaining drizzle, she wondered what time it was.  Sweetie Belle’s schedule kept her away from home on Mondays until sunset, so Apple Bloom had wanted to visit Harper.  She had barely seen the minty stallion since their train ride, and they still had a lot to talk about.

She busied her mind with estimating the time of day according to the position of the Sun, mostly to help it wipe away the lingering images of that wretched nightmare.  It was a fruitless attempt; her dreams had been infected with that memory for years.  There was no getting rid of those pleading blue eyes.  There was no forgetting that hollow, laughless question:

“Apple Bloom?”

The farm pony jumped.  She wasn’t expecting her name to come from outside her head.  Still standing just outside the library, she twisted her neck around to see two bright ponies don excited smiles.

“Hey yeah, Bloom, it is you!” one of them said.  She had a small, dark blue scar above her right eye that stood out against her otherwise cyan coat.

“Such a pleasure to see you on campus,” the other added in a posh Canterlotian accent, flipping a lock of her blue-and-white mane back into its place framing her burgundy cheek.  She had the most beautifully slanted eyes that Apple Bloom had ever seen, although their dark, greyish color was a bit dull.  “I thought you would have been home by now, seeing as your classes ended nearly an hour ago.”

“Howdy, Blitz.  Hi, Lilac,” she greeted her roommates.  Blitz ruffled her wings to shake away some excess rain water while Lilac kept a politely inquisitive gaze.  “I fell asleep in the library for a while.  Headed home now.”

“So are we!” Blitz shouted at inappropriate volumes.  “Come on, let’s get walkin' together!”

She took a step forward with full intent; simultaneously, one wing tried to take off out of habit while the other was still flicking water away.  The conflicting forces proved too much for the blue pony and she tumbled to the ground in a heap.

“Whoops!” she said, scrambling back to her hooves as Apple Bloom stifled a laugh.  If her eyes were misaligned, Blitz would have reminded her exactly of another clumsy pegasus.  Apple Bloom offered a steadying hoof to her new friend, grateful for the unintentional reminder of better days gone by.

Lilac was less amused.  “Yes, we ought to make haste.  If the storm begins to rage again, my poor mane will be practically defenseless.”

Apple Bloom made sure to turn away before rolling her eyes.  There’s one in every group…

“Oh yeah!” Blitz suddenly called out, lifting her right wing to remove a small card of paper she had stored beneath.  “I met a friend o' yours earlier today, Apple Bloom.  He told me to give you his address, in case you don’t have it, and to drop by anytime!”

She beamed and Apple Bloom surveyed the card.  It was Harper’s writing!  A smile graced her yellow face as the pony changed her plans.

“Actually, you two head on back without me,” she said, tucking the card into her saddlebag.  “I’m gonna go sneak in a visit.  Feel free to start dinner, I might be a while.”

“My, my,” Lilac teased with a suggestive leer.  “Your first day at college and you’re already staying the night at a colt’s apartment, hmm?”

Apple Bloom blushed, bantering back instantly.  “I’ve been here for nearly four days, thank y’very much,” she began, “and Harper and I are just friends.  ‘Sides, I never said nothin’ about spendin’ the night.  It’s just that we’ve got a bunch to talk about, that’s all, bein’ in the same boat and… all.”

Her syntax failed under Lilac’s unwavering grin.  Without another word, Apple Bloom galloped southward, hoping the other earth pony’s accusations were only playful.

“See ya tomorrow, Apple Bloom!” Blitz shouted out, waving goodbye.

She thought of yelling back to reassure her plans of returning that night, but the lure of seeing Harper to share experiences and opinions won out.  Mentally repeating the address on a loop, she trotted off the School’s boundaries and skipped to the Mane Street of Cantlerlot.  Her excitement wore down a bit as she wove through crowds of scowling ponies, avoiding the stoic guards and cringing at obscene graffiti.  The city air seemed thick with sadness and caution, a sensation Apple Bloom was unfamiliar with.  It gave her prickling chills as she hurried down the wide road, keeping her focus on the perpendicular street signs in search of Bridle Boulevard.


(/\/\)


Harper Heartstrings froze at the knock, hoping and praying and pleading inside that the hoof on the opposite side of his door belonged to the mare of his dreams.

His hope gleamed unmistakably in his eyes.  “You think it’s her, Harper?” one of the front room’s loungers asked.

“No clue,” Harper squeaked, and cleared his throat before approaching the door.  His knowing roommates held their breath, waiting to see the “most beautiful mare in the world.”  Coming from a little village like Ponyville, they doubted Harper’s dreamy descriptions.

He reached the door and took a deep breath, running a hoof through his spiky mane.  After practicing a not-too-excited-but-genuinely-happy-to-see-you smile once or twice, he used his magic to swing open the door.

He was not disappointed.  Apple Bloom was perched like a spring at his doorstep, throwing herself around him before he could even start the smile.

“Harper!” she greeted as her lush, brilliant-red mane curled against the curve of his jaw.  Her strong, lean forelegs wrapped around the base of his neck and locked their bodies together, close enough for Harper to count eight beats of her racing heart.  He nearly melted.

“Hey, you found us!” he replied casually, returning the unexpected hug.  “You’re breathing heavy.  Did you run all the way here?”

She slid out of the embrace and nodded, closing the door with a swoop of one trained hind leg.  “I don’t like bein’ out on the streets fer long, ‘specially when I’m alone.”  Her eyes, glowing like molten gold, scanned over the two pegasus stallions gaping behind her friend.

“Who are they?” she asked Harper rather than the stunned gentlecolts.

Noticing their expressions, Harper shot them a dangerous glance to snap them out of it.  “Apple Bloom, these are two of my roommates,” he introduced as they realigned their eyes.  “They’re both studying Game Design at the School.”

“Game design?” Apple Bloom asked, slightly put off by their wide grins.  “Fer what, board games?”

“Arcade games,” Harper corrected, even more disturbed.  “In fact, I think they were just about to leave for one of their classes.”

The boys caught on, flapping to their hooves.

“Right now?”  The yellow mare checked the clock on the wall.  “But it’s nearly half past four!”

“Evening class,” said the blue-grey roommate.  “We’re lucky we get to take it together.”

His shorter friend could only nod as they trotted around Apple Bloom and opened the front door.

“All right, have fun, guys!” Harper said, ignoring their wide-eyed looks of approval and exciting hoof-pumping in the doorway.  “Be safe!”

He reached around Apple Bloom and slammed the door, nicking the shorter pegasus’s hindquarters hard enough to hurt.  A faint yelp pulsed through the apartment’s wall, but neither Ponyvillean paid it any mind.

“Sorry about them,” Harper chuckled as they took seats on a striped couch.  “We haven’t had a mare in the apartment yet.  In fact, I don’t know if either of them have even talked to a mare before.”

Apple Bloom failed to hold back a laugh.  “Harper, that’s not very nice!” she said, tease-punching him in his exposed ribs.

“Youch!  Careful with that apple bucker, Missy!” he said with a smile.

She rolled her eyes.  “I don’t buck with my front hooves, dodo.  And it serves you right, sittin’ so strangely all the time.”

Harper resumed his “strange” position with a grin.  “I promise it’s more comfortable than what you’re doing, if you’d only give it a try.”

She let out a hoot.  “That’ll be the day!”

They were quiet for a moment, smiling at each other.  Apple Bloom took note of how shiny his eyes looked.  Harper took notice of everything about her.

“I don’t know what that means anymore,” he finally said, forcing himself to look away from her perfectly rounded ears.  “That’ll be the day.  It sounds like something’s going to happen that nopony expects.  Well…”  He gestured toward the window and the greying world beyond.  “I sure wasn’t expecting this.”

Apple Bloom was grateful for his segue.  “That’s exactly what I’ve been wantin’ to talk to ya about,” she whispered.  “We’ve been here for three whole days now.  What’d’ya make of all this?”

Harper slowly shook his head.  “It’s… scary.  Really scary.  Three of my roommates are from Canterlot—”

“Three of?” Apple Bloom interrupted.  “How many do ya have?”

“Five,” he said.  “We each have a little room to ourselves and share a kitchen and this front thing.  It’s actually working out really well so far.”

“Where’re the other three?”

Harper shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I haven’t really clicked with them yet.  Kind of macho colts, you know?  Party animals.  And I’m not talkin’ a Pinkie Pie Party.”

Apple Bloom shuddered.

Harper winced.  “Sorry.”

“’S’fine,” she said, blushing.  “What were you sayin’?  Somethin’ about yer roommates likin’ to… party?”

He waved a hoof.  “Oh, they don’t matter.  What I meant was, the first day we all had breakfast together and I asked about the changes in government, I let slip that I was from Ponyville.  A couple of them seemed kind of… I dunno, disgusted.  But they all had stories about things they’d heard and seen and what Canterlot’s become.  And Apple Bloom—”  He gulped.  “—Sweetie didn’t tell us the half of it.”

“I’ve heard stuff, too,” Apple Bloom admitted, recalling the hushed conversations she had picked up during lunch that day.  “All the hold-ups and gang wars and… rapes.”  She grimaced at the vulgar word.  “But, I mean… everypony seems to blame Twilight.  Do you reckon it’s really her doin’?”

Harper cracked his neck and sighed deeply.  “I don’t know, Apple Bloom.  I don’t want to think so.  We had very different views of her back home: you knew her as a friend, I knew her as a librarian-turned-Princess.  But any way you look at her—the old Twilight Sparkle, I mean—she doesn’t seem to add up with all the crazy stuff happening around here.”

“I didn’t wanna believe it, either,” she breathed.  “I still don’t.  But I’ve seen her do some drastic things when under a lot o’ pressure.  Who knows?  Maybe she finally snapped.”

With a flustered click of his tongue, Harper started to bump his dangling hind legs against the couch.  He ran his hooves over each other, sweeping his eyes over Apple Bloom’s mane.  She was staring at the ground, deep in silent thought.

“What ever happened that big pink bow you used to wear every day?” he asked, bringing a small smile to her flawless face.

“Sweetie Belle gave it to Rarity, I think,” she remembered.  “I wanted to throw the stupid thing away, but I guess Rarity has some kind o’ clothing-scrapbook in the attic o’ Carousel Boutique.”  Noticing Harper’s raised eyebrow, she added, “I’m not really sure what that means, but Sweetie was pretty adamant that it be added to her sister’s collection, so I let 'er keep it.”

“I miss it sometimes,” Harper confessed.  “You were so cute as a filly.”

Apple Bloom laughed.  “Eeyup!  I was a looker, wasn’t I?  Back in the day.”

"Still are…” Harper barely mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” he said.  “Just remembering.  Good times.”

Apple Bloom hummed in agreement.

More silence.

“So, how were yer first days o’ classes?” Apple Bloom asked, rearranging herself on the couch.

“Fine,” said Harper.  “About what I expected.  You?”

“Oh, I loved it!”  Apple Bloom’s toothy smile glowed.  “I had no idea what to expect, bein’ the first of my family to attend any sort o’ college.  It’s so fun!”  She had to close her eyes to make more room for her smile.  “My teachers are clever and know so much, and everypony around me really wants to be there!  The students are so nice and smart… well, most of ‘em anyway.”

“That does sound fun.”

“You know, I thought about you today,” she said, lowering her eyelids in a baiting smirk.

I think about you every day.  “Oh?  When was that?”

“Right after my first class.  I was leaving the HFAC and noticed a big poster up on the wall advertisin’ fer Drum Line auditions!  And I thought, ‘Gee, you know who should try out?  Harper Heartstrings!’”

His reaction was far from bright.  “Thanks, Apple Bloom, that’s sweet of you,” he said, trying hard to maintain a wimpy smile.

She pushed her lips to one side.  “Okay, what’s wrong?” she asked, crossing her forelegs.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t even try.  I know you, Harper.  What’s wrong?  Did one o’ yer teachers make fun o’ ya?  Does one of your roommates smell bad?  Didja not like the cafeteria’s baked potatas?  I think they coulda used an older cheese, if y’ask me…”

“It’s nothing like that,” Harper caved.  “It’s just… I would love more than anything to join the Drum Line, but I don’t have the time with all these stupid harp classes.”

“Stupid harp classes?” Apple Bloom repeated.  “But you’re majorin’ in Harp Performance, ain’t ya?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to!”  His voice cracked.

Apple Bloom blinked.  “But… well, why are you doin’ it, then?”

Harper groaned and dropped his face into his lifted hooves.  He didn’t dare lie to her; the Element of Honesty’s sister could spot a lie from a mile away.  “Because I feel like my mom would hate me for wasting all her hard work.”

“Wasting her… Harper, what in Equestria are you talkin’ about?  Your mother loves you to death!  And she’s proud of you for a bein’ a musician, not a harpist.  You’re an amazing percussionist, and for the millionth time, will you look at your Cutie Mark?  You were meant to be a drummer!”

“You don’t understand, Apple Bloom.  Ever since I was a baby, my mom has been training me to play her lyre.  This very one!”  He used his magic to bring a fancy case into the room, setting it on the central coffee table and unlatching its hooks to remove a stunning, silver harp.

“Wow!” Apple Bloom said.  “Gorgeous!”

I was thinking the same thing.  “We’ve passed it down for generations.  Forged in Cloudsdale for the first Summer Sun Celebration, if the family legends are true.”

“Can ya… play it?” Apple Bloom asked.

Harper scoffed.  “Of course I can play it.  I got accepted as a Harp Major, remember?”

Her eyes gleamed with expectation.  “Will ya play it?”

Harper squinted and rubbed the back of his neck.  “Uh… I guess I can, if you really want me to.”

“Oh, yes!  Oh, please oh please, play it, Harper!  I love the sound it makes,” she rambled, wriggling closer to her friend on her belly.  “I used to tell Scootaloo that I didn’t like yer mom’s concerts, either, but I really loved ‘em almost as much as Sweetie Belle!  Please play it, Harper?  Please oh please oh please oh…”

“Fine.”

“Yay!”

“But just one song.”

Apple Bloom nodded, pursing her lips in a tight smile.

Harper balanced the small instrument between his legs and shut his eyes.  Apple Bloom watched as his horn began to glow.  One by one, the strings of the lyre lit up with Harper’s magic, creating a pleasant hum as they vibrated in place.  The buzzes became a haunting melody of quick, harmonic plucks that sent the chills down Apple Bloom’s spine and over her skin.  The charming music even seemed to affect the  muscles in her lifted neck.  She dropped her head gently into Harper’s lap, shutting her eyes as the harp continued to excite the air around her.

Harper hoped his heartstrings wouldn’t snap.

The melody ended, but the peace it brought lingered tenderly above the pair.  Apple Bloom didn’t lift her head.  It felt heavy and warm, and Harper’s soft coat smelled of mint and fresh pine wood.

“That was real pretty, Harper,” she cooed, nuzzling her nose against his knee.

“Thanks, Apple Bloom,” he managed to wheeze.  “My mom wrote it.”

“Lyra’s so talented,” she yawned.  “I’m gonna miss her.”

“Yeah.  Me, too.”

Apple Bloom’s eyes popped open as she realized what she’d said.  “Oh, Harper, I’m sorry!” she yelped, bolting up.  “I didn’t mean… I didn’t remember we weren’t allowed to… I’m sure we’ll find a way to visit, er maybe she can…”

“It’s okay, Apple Bloom,” Harper said.  “Really, it’s fine.”

Apple Bloom hopped down from the couch and stomped a hoof.  “No, Harper, it’s not fine.  We ain’t allowed to go back to Ponyville!  It’s not even part of Equestria!  How are we ever gonna get home?  What if they forget all about us?”

“We can send letters…”

“That the guards might read or confiscate or… or use against us!  Who knows with this place?”  She growled with sudden fury and kicked the couch with a back leg.  It spun around once, throwing its passenger violently from his place.

“Oof!”  Harper landed on his face near the door to the kitchen.

“Ah, horseapples!  I’m sorry, Harper!” Apple Bloom called.

“Those darn apple buckers,” Harper grunted.

Apple Bloom's eyes darted off to the side as she forced an innocent chuckle.  “They got a mind o’ their own sometimes.  Gosh, that looked mighty painful.  You sure you’re okay?”

Harper nodded.  “Yeah, my face is fine, but I’m still thinking about that Drum Line.”

She pushed the sofa into, raising her voice over a noisy scraping.  “What’s there to think about?  Just drop whatever classes you need to and try out!  You’re sure to make it!”

He aided Apple Bloom with his magic, putting a stop to the grind.  “I know that,” he replied in a sullen tone.

“Gee, somepony’s cocky,” Apple Bloom joked.  Harper was one of the humblest stallions she had ever met.

He grinned at her tease but ignored it otherwise.  “I can’t drop my string classes.  My mom would be so disappointed.”

“She would not!  How can y’even think that?”

Tears began to build along the rims of his eyes.  Apple Bloom instantly regretted her volume, shocked by his seriousness.

“I don’t want to risk it,” he explained in a quavering voice.  “She’s been so… fragile.  Ever since Bon Bon died.”

Apple Bloom had never known Bon Bon very well.  Somewhere in the back of her mind, she suspected the pony held a lifelong grudge against her fillyhood rudeness at the market.  “Four bits, lady!” rang through her head as she envisioned the mare’s swirly mane of vibrant pink and blue, much like Dr. Cossitee’s eyes.

“They were good friends, weren’t they?” she questioned reverently.

Harper nodded, running the back of his right hoof over his nose.  “The best of friends.  She relied on her relationship with Bon Bon since my dad left.”  Apple Bloom bit her lip.  She had forgotten about that.  Harper didn’t notice; he was refusing to look at the mare, embarrassed by his breakdown.

“Cancer, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.  Just a couple years ago.  Ever since then, my mom’s been really on edge.  She’s always had pretty low self-esteem, believe it or not.  The strangest little things get her depressed for days.  I can only imagine what she’d do if I admitted how much I hate the harp.”

Apple Bloom’s jaw dropped.  “You cain’t mean that!  You don’t hate the harp, not bein’ able to play it so well!”

Harper sniffed and took a couple deep breaths, regaining his composure.  “Yeah, you’re right.  I don’t hate the harp.  But it’s just… it’s not what I’m supposed to do, you know?  I can feel it.”

Apple Bloom poked his flank.  “Of course it ain’t, Drummer Boy!  Everypony has more than one talent.  You can strum and sing and write like nopony’s business, but you were born to play that snare!”  She slammed her hoof against his Cutie Mark once more for good measure.  He winced in pain.

“Just like you,” he pointed out.  “You’re a martial arts master, an incredible impersonator, and the best renovator to come out of Ponyville, but your special talent is painting and you’re following what you love to do.  And you’re happy.”

The farmer blushed.  “Well, that’s not exactly what I meant.  And karate didn’t come easy, lemme tell ya.  But… sure, if you wanna think about it that way.”

A slow, thoughtful nod accompanied Harper’s rise to his hooves.  “You know what, Apple Bloom?  You’re right.  I shouldn’t live my life trying to please my mom.  The only way for me to happy is to follow my heart and do what I know is right.”

Apple Bloom’s face cracked a triumphant smile.  “Exactly!  And I think you’ll be surprised at just how pleased yer mom’ll be when you do that.”

His nod quickened.  “There’s already enough doom and gloom in this city.  I should be doing everything I can to make my time here the best it can be.”

“Yeah!”  Apple Bloom hopped into the air.

“I shouldn’t hold anything back.  I’ll drop my harp classes.  I’ll try out for the Drum Line!  I’ll confess my love for the mare of my dreams!”

“Yeah!  Yeah!  Yeah!”  She bounced again with every exclamation.

“I love you, Apple Bloom.”

“Yeah!  Yeah!  Wait, what?”

She had pranced halfway around the room by the time the words registered.  A painful knot formed in her stomach as she faced the dry-mouthed colt.

“I said I love you, Apple Bloom,” he repeated.  His face was set in a softly serious expression, though she could see the tremor of his knees.

“You… I…”

Apple Bloom was speechless.  She had absolutely no idea.  The sudden news flew through her heart and mind like a fascinating, irritating insect.

She wanted to apologize, to say she didn’t feel the same way, to try to maintain their friendship as well as his vigor to redirect his life.  But she couldn’t begin that chain—because some strange little voice in the back of her head said maybe you do feel the same way.

“I… I…”

Her front hooves started to canter in place while the room’s discomfort soared.

“I… I gotta go,” Apple Bloom finally said, snatching her satchel from the ground with her mouth and bolting out the front door without a second look.

Harper didn’t move for nearly a minute.  Without blinking, he turned in place until he faced the kitchen’s wall.  Six times he slammed his head against it, leaving a deep pock mark where his horn had struck the wood.


(/\/\)


Apple Bloom didn’t stop at the end of the hallway, or when she stumbled back onto Bridle Boulevard.  She galloped through the hazy streets of Canterlot, past groups of puzzled ponies and pairs of royal guards, aimlessly fleeing from something that couldn’t hurt her.  The steady, powerful thumps of her own hooves against the cobblestone dulled her mind to the point that she almost forgot about Harper’s confession—until she skidded to a stop at a towering set of familiar gates.

The Canterlot Gardens, shrouded in a blanket of dirty fog, lay empty and overgrown beyond the bars of the iron fence.  Sputtering like a racehorse, Apple Bloom approached the chained gates and rested her forehead against their cold metal.  She was above the Gardens from this angle, and her eyes darted from the misshapen rows of dark green hedges to the distant statues of Victory, Friendship, and a ceramic thing that had replaced Discord.

“I love you, Apple Bloom.”

“You are a good pony.”

“Apple Bloom?”

“I said I love you, Apple Bloom.”

Her memory whipped her with one jarring quote after another.  Why was this happening?  Why had any of it happened?  Why couldn’t she have innocently adventured with the Cutie Mark Crusaders for all eternity, when her only problem in the world was finding her special talent?

She felt a growl tear at the flesh of her throat.  "Why?" she asked aloud.  It wasn’t fair!  It didn’t make sense!  Twilight?  Harper?  Pinkie Pie? 

"Why?" she asked the overcast sky, half-expecting it to answer with a bolt of lightning or sudden torrent of rain.  Neither came.

“Why?” she asked again, leaning into the cruel, uncaring gate.

Nopony heard the questions, or her quiet, tired sobs.
> 5 - His Own Drum
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


CHAPTER FIVE
HIS OWN DRUM


Sometimes Apple Bloom wished she was a unicorn.  Never in her life did she want for wings—just the thought of flying made her dizzy—but having a magical horn would be universally helpful, especially when trying to unlock a door.

She had been struggling outside her apartment for nearly five minutes, clamping her key between her teeth, trying to slide it into the handle’s tiny lock.  To complicate things further, she was shivering from cold and emotion, having sat outside the Canterlot Gardens until the Moon was directly over her head.  Now the night was dark, frigid, and opposed to her success.

Being the kind, selfless pony that she was, the yellow mare didn’t want to knock and wake her roommates.  She supposed that all three of them were fast asleep by that time of night, which made the door’s sudden opening even more alarming.

“Apple Bloom!  You’re home!” Sweetie whispered from just inside, ushering in the startled pony on her doorstep.  “Gosh, how long have you been out there?  I’ve been waiting for you all night.  Did you knock?  I heard something scratching against the knob and thought maybe it was a lost bird or… hey, are you all right?”

Apple Bloom’s collapse on the decorative rug in the middle of the living room was answer enough for Sweetie Belle.  She squeaked with concern, shut the door, and used her magic to lift her frozen friend onto the purple couch.

“Oh, Apple Bloom, where have you been?” she asked, magicking a blanket from a basket in their room and wrapping it tightly around the poor pony.

“I went t-t-to Harper’s place,” she chattered, squeezing her eyes shut as the blanket pulled the dew from her coat.

Sweetie’s eye twitched.  “Oh.  And you’ve, uh… you’ve been there all night?”

She shook her head more times than she planned to, revved by a flurry of chills.  “I left before sunset.  Went over to the Canterlot Gardens, sorta accident’ly.  They were locked up, but I stayed there for a while.”

“Doing what?”

“Cryin’.”

Sweetie Belle made an exasperated sound.  “What for, darling?”

Because Twilight’s turned evil and Pinkie Pie’s dead and Harper just told me he loves me and instead of just handling it like a big mare I ran off and might have just ruined our friendship forever.

“Fer Canterlot.  It’s just so sad, seein’ it in a state like this.”

Affectionate hooves wrapped around Apple Bloom from the side.  “I can’t say I didn’t have my fair share of those nights when I first moved here.  I’m so sorry, Apple Bloom.  I should have never let you come.”

“Don’t think that, Sweetie.  I’m glad I’m here with you,” Apple Bloom promised, enjoying her friend’s warmth.  “Life’s just harder than I think it ought to be, that’s all.”

“Isn’t that the truth!”  The white unicorn laughed, covering her mouth with a hoof when she remembered her sleeping roommates.  Both of the former Cutie Mark Crusaders giggled at the slip.

“How d’ya like them?” Apple Bloom asked, jerking her head toward their bedroom.

Sweetie Belle’s eyes flashed.  “Blitz is hilarious!  She has such a good heart.  Actually…”  Her smile curled into a sheepish one.  “…she kind of reminds me of Ditzy.”

“Me, too!” Apple Bloom agreed.  The chill of night was nearly forgotten in the warmth of her friend’s blanket and company.

“How is she?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“Who, Ditzy Doo?”  At Sweetie’s nod, Apple Bloom let out a small sigh.  “Not good, I’m afraid.  Worse than she was when you visited at Hearth’s Warmin’.”

“How much longer do they think she has?” Sweetie asked in a sort of whimper.

Apple Bloom shook her head.  “They don’t know.  Dinky’s takin’ it real well, though.  She’s the new mailmare!”

Sweetie gasped.  “Oh, how wonderful!  Following in her mother’s hoofsteps.  What a dear.”

The light of the Moon pushed through a smoky cloud, reminding the mares of the very late hour.  With her second day of college classes fast approaching, Apple Bloom slid off the couch and started towards her room with Sweetie.

If Sweetie seemed slightly troubled, Apple Bloom attributed it to Ditzy Doo’s condition, but she couldn’t see the questions building under Sweetie’s curly mane.  What did you do at Harper’s? the unicorn wanted to ask.  Did he say anything about me?  Did you say anything about me?

She decided to hold in her nags, imagining a friendly conversation between the two Freshponies to ease her mind.  Apple Bloom had never liked to flirt, especially not with stallions as handsome and talented and wonderful as Harper Heartstrings.  They were only friends, Sweetie told herself.  Only friends.

Apple Bloom was telling herself the same thing as she flopped onto her mattress.


(/\/\)


The first week of school went by quickly for everypony.  It always did.

True to her word, Apple Bloom’s first tardy was her last.  She made it a point to arrive to each class several minutes early, especially Dr. Cossitee’s on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.  She continued, voluntarily, to sit in the front of the class: she liked to watch her kind professor’s multi-colored eyes light up when he lectured from memory on his favorite artists and their contributions to various styles and practices.  All of her courses were interesting and enjoyable, but History became a quick favorite.

Sweetie Belle's classes were longer, frequenter, and far more demanding than Apple Bloom's.  The only times they saw each other were in the early mornings and late evenings at home.  Even then, Sweetie had several nighttime commitments to attend throughout the week.  Though there were only about a thousand students at the School, the size of the campus and separation of Major-specific buildings kept Apple Bloom from bumping into her musical friend… or musical friends, she supposed, if Harper still thought of her as such.

She hadn’t seen or spoken to Harper since Monday night.  She was too embarrassed by her flee to form a descent apology or build up the courage to face him.  Luckily her schoolwork kept her mind occupied, but every spare moment that snuck up on her conscience smeared Harper’s words along the inside of her skull.

“I love you, Apple Bloom.”

Had he meant it?  Was he just playing a joke on her?  No, his eyes had been too clear for that.  He called her the mare of his dreams.  How long had he felt that way?  Why had she never seen it before?  

She tried to go through every one of their experiences together since becoming friends at her cute-ceñera, but never once did her memory reveal a single hint at his affection.  He had always been affable, helpful, and caring, but never in their years of friendship had he even suggested a desire for more.

But Apple Bloom was most disturbed—or perhaps simply fascinated—by the inklings of reciprocation nudging at her heart.  Harper was two years younger than her… but that didn’t really matter.  Besides, he was vastly more mature than other stallions his age.  He was smart and clever and incredibly talented… not to mention cute as they come.  Those dreamy, lake-like eyes had always given Apple Bloom a tingle in her stomach… had that been love all along?

Wisely, she kept her musings to herself.  Something felt wrong about sharing Harper’s strange confession with anypony, especially someone as gossipy as Sweetie Belle (another unfortunate trait the unicorn shared with her sister).  But Apple Bloom knew that, sooner or later, she’d have to cowpony up and visit him again.  Whatever the outcome, she had to apologize for her stupid behavior and try to secure at least a comfortable relationship with him.

That Saturday morning, three of the four residents of 4 Quarterhorse Lane, room 8, sat around their glass kitchen table waiting for Sweetie Belle to finish her promised breakfast of cupcakes.  Apple Bloom listened to Blitz and Lilac recount their favorite moments of their semester’s first week while Sweetie’s heavenly voice drifted softly from the kitchen.

“…a bit of salt, just a pinch...” she sang.

Apple Bloom shuddered.

“Okay!  I’m done!” Sweetie called as a wave of mouth-watering aromas brushed under the hungry mares’ noses.  She levitated a tray of six steaming cupcakes to the center of the table, joining her friends for the most important meal of the day.

“Dig in, everypony!” she encouraged, releasing her magical hold on the goods.  Blitz snatched one onto her plate in the blink of an eye and stuck her snout into its cloud of rising steam.

“Mmmm…” she hummed, letting her tongue hang from the side of her mouth.  “Smells so good!”

Lilac carefully lifted a cupcake to her lips and took a small, dainty bite.  After a moment of thoughtful chewing, the corners of her mouth twitched upward.  “I must admit,” she began in her proper dialect, “I was less than enthusiastic at the idea of consuming such a menial dessert in place of a balanced breakfast.  But this…”  Her ghost of a smile returned full-fledged.  “This is delicious, Sweetie Belle.”

“Yeah!” Blitz agreed with half a cupcake in her mouth.  “Never had cupcakes for breakfast before.  Maybe next time you can make muffins!”

Sweetie and Apple Bloom snorted, trapping fits of laughter in the back of their throats.  Lilac raised an eyebrow, but Blitz paid them no mind, shoving the remaining half of her first cupcake into her other cheek and picking a second from the batch.

“I’m so glad you like them!” Sweetie managed to reply, her upper lip quivering under the pressure of suppressed snickering.

Not long into the meal, Lilac addressed Apple Bloom with a playfully sinister smile.

“I forgot to ask all week, dear, but how was your visit to that stallion you were so excited to see?”

Sweetie rubbed under her eye as Apple Bloom’s mind groped for an appropriate answer.

“It was… nice,” she said, keeping her eyes on the crumbs around her plate.

“He was sure cute, Apple Bloom,” Blitz remembered with a wink.  “When he found out I was one of your roommates, he nearly dropped from the lunch table!”  She laughed, pattering her forehooves against the glass.

“What was his name, again?” Lilac asked.

“Harper,” Sweetie answered in a voice lower than her own.  “Harper Heartstrings.”

Blitz stopped laughing and gave her a bewildered look.  “You know him, too?  Gosh, why aren’t I friends with any cute unicorns?”  Sweetie Belle’s eyelids dropped, reminding Blitz to add, “Stallions.  Cute unicorn stallions.”

“Sweetie and I grew up with Harper,” Apple Bloom explained.

“In Ponyville?” Lilac asked in surprise.  “My goodness, they certainly seem to accept several students from such a supposedly shunned little city.”

“You said sssss a lot!” Blitz giggled.

“Ponyville’s a special place,” Apple Bloom mumbled, rolling the last of her cupcake back and forth between her hooves.

“Hey!” Blitz exclaimed, hovering above the table on her light blue wings.  “You should invite him to come over here so we can all be friends with Harper Heartstrings!”

Sweetie’s eyes lingered on Lilac’s sheen, burgundy coat and gracefully slanted eyes for a moment before shaking her head.  “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.  He’s a little… shy, when it comes to meeting new ponies and all.”

Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow.  “No, he’s n—”

Sweetie kicked her beneath the table, forgetting it was made of see-through glass.  Neither of the other ponies noticed anyway.

“But,” the singer continued, placing a hoof on her chin, “I suppose that Apple Bloom and I could go to his apartment this morning and ask if he’d like to meet you two.”

“Oh, would you please?” Blitz begged.  Lilac contributed her own approving nod.

“I don’t think I—”

“Come on, Apple Bloom, let’s go right now!  Don’t want to keep these poor mares waiting.”  Sweetie used her magic to yank Apple Bloom from the table by her tail, dragging her toward the front door while she called over her shoulder, “Would you two be kind enough to clear the table and wash off the dishes?  Thanks a bunches!”

“Thanks a bunches?” Apple Bloom repeated under her breath, quite aware of Sweetie’s unusually panicked state.  As soon as the apartment door was closed and locked behind them, she turned to her friend with a questioning glare.

“What in tarnation’re you up to?” she asked, grateful to see the pale green glow of Sweetie’s magic dissipate from around her tail.

Sweetie wasted no time with lies.  “I want to go see Harper and find out what’s going on,” she whispered harshly, lifting her chin before descending the zigzagging staircase to Quarterhorse Lane.  Apple Bloom followed, perplexed.

“What d’ya mean, what’s goin’ on?  Why’re ya bringin’ me?”

“I mean, I want to know why you’ve been acting so weird since you came home that night!” she snapped without turning around.  “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring off at nothing half the time with that miserable expression on your face.  Something happened at Harper’s and I’m going to find out what it was.”

The streets were nearly empty that early on a Saturday.  More sunlight than usual poked through the ever-present smog above the city, casting a warmer light onto the quiet scene.  Or, almost quiet.

“Nothin’ happened at Harper’s, Sweetie Belle!” Apple Bloom yelled as her hooves hit Quarterhorse Lane.  She galloped to her determined friend’s side.

“You’re not as bad as your sister, Bloom, but you’re still a terrible liar!” Sweetie said.  “Now, where is his apartment?”

Dreading the inevitable, but feeling this was as good a time as any to see Harper again, Apple Bloom dropped her head.  “Bridle Boulevard off o’ Mane Street,” she relayed, and they cantered the rest of the way without words.

The sound of their eight hooves echoed eerily against the tall buildings of Canterlot, pricking Apple Bloom’s lowered ears.  Sweetie’s walk was tall and brisk, focused on the task at hand, radiating her flustration.  That’s what she called it, anyway, feeling somewhere in between flustered and frustrated, unable to fully commit to one or the other.

Even at their quick trot, it took several minutes to reach Harper’s building, and nearly two more to squeeze up the stairs past a dense congregation of college ponies on their way to work.  Apple Bloom didn’t have a job in Canterlot—she had saved up plenty of bits in Ponyville, working on the family farm, marketing their goods in town, and selling her paintings to its generous citizens—and Sweetie Belle was paid for her gigs and concerts.

Sweetie hammered on the center of Harper’s door when Apple Bloom identified it with a flick of her hoof.  She stepped back and waited for someone to open it, eyeing the knob with a stern stare.  Apple Bloom sat on her haunches, slumped forward dejectedly, trying not to speculate at Harper’s possible reactions to her return.

A lock thunked before the door pulled a few inches inward.  Apple Bloom recognized the blue-grey face of Harper’s roommate poking through the space he’d opened just enough to see who knocked.

“Who is it?” he asked tensely.

“My name is Sweetie Belle,” she announced too boldly for Apple Bloom’s liking, “and this is—”

“Apple Bloom!” the pegasus finished, noticing the hunched mare behind her pearly friend.  Sweetie Belle looked shocked at the interruption, standing still as the face behind the door disappeared for a moment.

“Harper, it’s Apple Bloom!” they heard him whisper.

“Really?”  The other voice startled the eavesdropping mares.  It was too nasally and harsh to be Harper’s, yet it answered to the name.

“Yeah!  I told you she’d come back eventually!”

“Alone?” croaked the other voice from further into the apartment.

“No, she’s with a super pretty unicorn!”

Sweetie tossed her curly locks.

“Should I let them in?”

The ragged voice was silent for a moment.  “No,” it finally said.  “No… I’ll come to the door.”  The following grunts of struggle and pain were far from comforting.

The mares waited for what felt like ten minutes.  Sweetie Belle clamped her jaw; Apple Bloom’s heart was hosting its own Appleoosan Wild West Dance, and the rest of her innards joined in the confounded fun by the time one of Harper’s deep-blue irises came into view.

“What?” he croaked, sounding more like a frog than a pony.

Sweetie Belle shot an accusing glance at Apple Bloom, but the farmpony’s expression of genuine surprise attested to their shared confusion.

“Uh… hi, Harper!” Sweetie greeted, trying to sound innocent.  “I hope it’s not too early.  Bloom and I wanted to come… vithit… wiiii…”

Her words slurred and trailed off as her jaw unhinged.  Harper had pulled the door wide open as she spoke, casting the hallway’s light onto his entire body.

The Cutie Mark Crusaders had done many stupid things, mostly attributed to Scootaloo’s imagination.  In the course of their increasingly bizarre attempts to discover their special talents, the trio had fallen from devastating heights, smashed into walls at dangerous speeds, tumbled through countless obstacle courses, and even survived an accident with a mechanical taffy-puller.  They’d all received their fair share of scrapes, scratches, and bruises, and had grown accustomed to the sight of banged-up limbs and flanks.

Apple Bloom nearly vomited on the hallway’s carpet.  Sweetie Belle fainted on the spot.

Harper was covered from head to tail with a disgusting array of dark, oozing wounds.  The bridge of his muzzle was irregularly angled.  His left eye was swollen shut, surrounded by a sickly green bulge of fur and flesh.  Parts of his mane had been ripped out of their roots, leaving huge, horrendous scabs along his neck.  His tail was uneven, his legs wrapped in moist, pink bandages, and the ribcage Apple Bloom had playfully punched was ravaged with merciless hoofmarks.

“Hey, Apple Bloom,” he managed to say, offering the remnants of a smile between his thick, cracked lips.  Several of his teeth were missing.  “Guess you weren’t the only pony to break a part of me this week, huh?”

She threw up.


(/\/\)


“When did this happen?” Sweetie nearly shrieked, shivering with shock as she eyed Harper’s mangled frame with pin-prick pupils.

“Thursday night,” he answered softly.  The damage to his throat made it hard to speak.  “If you think I look bad now, you should have seen me when I got home.”

Both of his present roommates—the pegasi game designers—nodded solemnly at his statement.  Their eyes had not stopped swiveling from one attractive mare to the other since they returned from fetching one of the dormitory’s janitors to clean up Apple Bloom’s bile.  The humiliated earth pony had offered to do the job herself, but Harper would have none of that.  Now, with a cup of warm tea between her hooves, she shrunk beneath their awestruck gawking.  Sweetie Belle was either oblivious to their stares or privately fueled by them.

“I don’t understand,” the unicorn wailed, pulling a blanket tighter around her shoulders.  “They just… attacked you?  In the streets?  With no motivation?”

“Oh, they had plenty of motivation,” Harper corrected, levitating a cup of tea her way.  “Drink that.  It’ll calm you down.”

“I doubt it,” Sweetie muttered, but swallowed a mouthful anyway.

Gingerly, Harper took a seat on the couch across from his visitors, wincing as he stretched his forelegs out to his sides.  His roommates knelt on either side of the sofa, at last turning their gaze away from the girls to focus on their injured friend.  Though they had already heard the story, they made no interruptions.

“Well, first of all, I tried out for the Drum Line,” he began, shooting a smile at Apple Bloom, “thanks to some very good advice.”

His friendliness did nothing to put her at ease.

“That was on Wednesday.  The ponies in charge of the process were really impressed with my audition.  When it was all over, they asked me to come to callbacks the next day.  It was hard not to get excited, seeing how giddy they got with all my talents.  They had me sing for them and play the harp, along with all the regular percussion stuff.  It was so much fun for everypony in the room.  Leaving that night, I felt like life here wouldn’t be so bad after all.”

Apple Bloom noticed his one-eyed, fleeting glance in her direction.  It seemed to carve another section out of her stomach, like a dull spoon scraping out the gunk of a pumpkin.

“Next day I went to callbacks.  Everypony who made it through the first round of auditions was there in the same room.  The judges were really nice and a lot of fun to work with.  They had us form a bunch of different groups and improvise on our chosen instruments.  I played the snare, of course.”  His open eye glanced fondly at his own flank.  “While we performed, the judges just trotted around the room, taking notes and whispering to each other and nodding when somepony did something awesome.  I got a lot of nods.”

He winked, though unsurprisingly it went unnoticed.

“They really liked me, and they didn’t hide it.  Before the end of the day, they had me lead a little section of my own and sing over the top of it.  Most of the others auditioning enjoyed themselves, I think.  But there was a group of stallions—four big ones with creepy Cutie Marks—who kept giving me the scariest looks.”

He shuddered.  His audience followed suit, more from the grating rasp of his voice than the vague imagery.

“What d’ya mean creepy Marks?” Apple Bloom asked.  It was the first time she had spoken since arriving, making Harper catch his breath.

He cleared his throat.  “It looked like they had added to whatever was naturally there.  I mean, one of them had a single basketball, but there was this evil smile drawn over it and a pair of rusty swords crossed behind.  Another one had an autumn leaf, but modified to look all torn up and… I don’t know… creepy.”

Apple Bloom dedicated the descriptions to memory as the battered stallion continued his tale.

“The callbacks ended pretty late.  The ponies in charge said the final roster would be posted in the HFAC the next day, but that if anypony didn’t show up to the Line’s first rehearsal on Friday night, they’d be kicked out of the group and instantly replaced.  No second chances.”  His features darkened as he repeated himself: “No second chances.”

Chills crept up his listeners’ spines.  Apple Bloom’s were by far the worst.

“I practically bounced home that night, one hundred percent confident that I had made the group.  Like I said, it was pretty late; the closer I got to my apartment, the fewer ponies there were on the streets.  Before long, I was totally alone.”  He shook his head.  “I noticed their hoofsteps right away.  They were coming up from behind me, fast.  Before I could even turn around, the four big stallions from tryouts surrounded me and led me into the darkest alleyway on the road.  They started to threaten me, warned me not to come to the first practice.  The brown one with the leaf Cutie Mark was the biggest and acted like the leader.”

Harper suddenly started to laugh.  “I guess I was just high on life or something.  Didn’t really think it through.  I stood as tall as I could and I told him, ‘I will go to the first practice, and every other practice for the rest of the year, and I’ll be the best drummer Canterlot’s School of Art has ever seen.’

“They didn’t like that answer.  So they beat me up.”

He shrugged at the flippant conclusion.  Apple Bloom thought she could see his “that’s the way it goes” face behind the breaks and bruises.

“Beat you up?” Sweetie Belle repeated.  “Beat you up?  Harper, look at you!  They didn’t beat you up, they nearly killed you!”

He grunted.  “That’s one way to look at it.”

Sweetie tossed the blanket from her body and rose righteously to her hooves.  “You cannot treat this like a joke, Harper.  This is serious.  This is threatening and bullying and unnecessary violence and, dare I say, attempted murder.  Those stallions should be arrested!”

“Probably,” Harper droned.

Sweetie gaped.  “Are you trying to blow this off?”

“Yes,” he answered with a curt nod.

Apple Bloom’s eyes tilted desperately.  “But, Harper… why?  Why not go to the guards, or the teachers who liked you so much?”

“I was screaming like a maniac, Apple Bloom,” Harper said.  “There are guards all over this city, and none of them did a thing to help me.  And the judges?  I missed Friday’s rehearsal.  They said no second chances.”

Sweetie Belle scoffed.  “I’m sure that this qualifies as what they call an extraneous circumstance.  They’ll understand, Harper!  They’ll help you!”

“You were paying attention, right?” Harper quipped.  “You remember who did this to me?  I took that leaf-flanked pony’s spot in the Line.  He got rid of me, so now he’s in the group.  He's willing to do this for a spot in a college drum line.  And you two want me to waltz right past him and tattle-tell to the teachers and try to send him to prison?  No thanks.  Besides…”  He held up his bandaged forehooves limply.  “I won’t be able to play for the rest of the year, anyway.”

Sweetie’s eyes brimmed with tears.

“I thought’cha used yer horn to play snare,” Apple Bloom said.

“Well… yeah,” Harper said, dropping his hooves into his lap, “but you also do a whole lotta marching and formations and… well, stuff I can’t do right now.”

He sighed—a horrible, scratchy sound that made Sweetie’s teeth grind—while Apple Bloom circled the rim of her teacup with the edge of her hoof.

“Harper, I… I’m so sorry!” she wailed, tossing her head back.  “This is all my fault!  I shouldn’t o’ told you try out!  I’m so sorry!”

She wanted to broaden her apology for every foalish thing she’d done that night, but Sweetie’s presence stopped her from going on.  For some reason, she didn’t think Sweetie should know about Harper’s brave confession.

“Oh, please, Apple Bloom.”  Harper rolled his eye.  “It’s not your fault.  I’m glad you encouraged me to audition.”

The farm pony sniffed as her wide eyes focused on Harper’s sincere blue one.  “Y-you are?”

“Of course!  The audition—I mean the process in itself—was the most fun I’ve had in years.  Years and years and years.”  He laughed, reminding Apple Bloom of his missing teeth.  “And that’s the memory of Canterlot I’ll hold on to, wherever my life goes from here.  I’ll remember that I was treated like an incredible musician, like somepony with the potential to be one of the greatest in Equestria.”

“I’m somepony’s Rainbow Dash,” Scootaloo said in Apple Bloom’s memory.

“And, if you ask me, that’s worth a good beating any day of the week.”

Sweetie was practically bawling.  A single tear of her own slid down Apple Bloom’s cheek.  She didn’t want to agree with Harper’s ever-happy attitude.  She wanted repercussion, retribution, justice!  But the optimistic ring in her friend’s abhorrent voice kept her from making any such vengeful plans.

Out loud.


(/\/\)


“But they practically killed him, Dr. Cossitee!” Apple Bloom said for the fifth time.  “How can you suggest we leave it alone?”

The click of the professor’s briefcase locks echoed through the empty auditorium as he sighed.

“You don’t understand the way things work around here, Apple Bloom,” her teacher counseled.  “You were privileged to grow up without the scourges that plague this city, but you are an adult now, in the real world, and you must try to understand that life is not always fair.”

“Don’t give me that,” Apple Bloom snapped, surprising the older stallion.  “You remember better’n me what Canterlot used to be like.  Life was fair, not six years ago.  The Princesses ruled in perfect Harmony.”

“The Princesses,” Dr. Cossitee whispered with a grim squint, “are gone, Apple Bloom.  Harmony cannot exist forever.  Entropy dissolves all.  Discord always wins.”

Apple Bloom’s heart skipped.  “D’ya mean… Discord the Draconequus, er…”

Dr. Cossitee smiled.  “No, Apple Bloom.  I meant it only as a word, not a name.  Disharmony, entropy, chaos… things fall apart, child, and you’d be wise to learn that now.”

Unaffected, Apple Bloom slammed her hoof against the ground.  “That ain’t how I was raised.  I was taught by the Elements o’ Harmony themselves that any problem can be fixed through the Magic o’ Friendship.”

The professor’s smile did not falter, though his eyes became misty.  “How I wish that were true,” he muttered, more to himself than to his student.

“It is true,” Apple Bloom testified.  “I’ve seen it time and time again, and I’d like to see it here and now!”  Her features softened to those of a pleading filly.  “So please, Doctor Cossitee, cain’t ya tell somepony what happened?  Cain’t we get that brown stallion arrested at least?”

For the first time in ten minutes, Cossitee did not shake his head at the question.  He looked Apple Bloom down the length of his muzzle with a hint of admiration in his multi-colored eyes.

“Are you absolutely sure?” he asked in a deep, chilling tone.

Apple Bloom swallowed.  “O’ what?”

“Are you absolutely sure that you wish to take the appropriate measures to bring justice to these abusive stallions?”

“Yes!  Yes, I am abso-tively sure, sir!”

Dr. Cossitee was quiet and still for a long time, shifting his pink and blue eyes between Apple Bloom’s determined set.

“Very well, then,” he finally said.  “I will direct the proper authorities to the stallion you’ve identified.  I’m confident that, between your friend Harper’s testimony and any evidence in the alleyway, they will arrest him for his violent crimes.”

Apple Bloom’s mouth exploded into a grateful grin.  “Oh, thank you, Doctor Cossitee!” she exclaimed, moving forward to hug him.

He held out a preventive hoof and solemnly narrowed his eyes.  “I will make sure of it, as long as you remember that this was your decision, Miss Bloom.  You sought for his arrest.  You are responsible.  Is that clear?”

Confused, Apple Bloom could only nod.  Without another word, the teacher whipped around, sending his grey-blonde mane aflutter for a moment.  He snatched up his briefcase in a purplish aura of magic and hurried out of the room, leaving the yellow mare to wonder if she had made the right choice.


(/\/\)


LOCAL GANG MEMBER CONVICTED FOR TERRORIZING STUDENT OF ARTS

Harper Heartstrings snorted through his crooked nose.  Terrorizing?  That’s a nice way to put it.

He scanned over the rest of the article, scooping another spoonful of macaroni into his mouth.  His jaw was still sore and heavily bruised, but a full week of healing left him well enough to chew soft foods.  He was grateful for anything thicker than mashed potatoes and milkshakes, and his plate of squishy macaroni really hit the spot.

With a frustrated grunt, Harper cut his telekinesis and let the newspaper drop next to his meal.  His left eye was almost entirely healed, though its surrounding fur’s coloration was significantly darker than the rest of his coat.  It fit in with all the other fading bruises spotting his body.  If he were younger, Harper might have imagined the marks were natural, like he was some kind of emerald leopard.

“Grrr,” he growled half-heartedly, eyeing the picture of his own battered body on the open page of the Canterlot Sun with malcontent.  As if missing a week of classes wasn’t enough, the news of his abuse was sure to make his eventual return to the School a miserable one.

Two capitalized words, repeated several times, stuck out from the columns surrounding his picture more than any others: Apple Bloom, Apple Bloom, Apple Bloom.  It seemed like half the article was comprised of her quotes.  He had a few in there, too, from his interviews with the investigator and nosey journalist Apple Bloom had brought to his apartment on Monday.  Three days later, his words were read by thousands in the most circulated newspaper in Equestria.

Oh, Apple Bloom: making his life ridiculously difficult, one leap and bound at a time.  Sometimes he wondered why he loved her so much.

Because she’s beautiful and brilliant and sweeter than her acres’ apples.  But none of that matters anymore because she hates you.

No, she doesn’t, a more positive part of himself retorted, tapping a hoof against the newspaper.  She obviously cares about you.  Otherwise she wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble of getting this guy arrested.  All this crazy publicity?  This is her way of showing you she cares.

Well, it’s a pretty crumby way, if you ask me.  I wish she would have just left it alone.  Now I’m going to have to live with being the pathetic, pummeled pony who couldn’t stand up for himself against a bunch of fellow band nerds.

They weren’t band nerds, constructive-Harper reminded.  They were vicious gang members who happened to want a spot in the Drum Line.  See?

He started to read the article again.  Upon investigation by the Royal Police, the leaf-Marked brown stallion who led the attack was found to be associated with one of Canterlot’s most dangerous underground organizations.  For his numerous illegal activities, of which Harper’s beating was a part, he was placed in prison.

The article barely mentioned all that, squeezing it into a single, tiny paragraph at the beginning.  The rest of it focused on Apple Bloom and her motives behind avenging Harper.

“‘We’ve been close friends since my cute-ceñera,’ says Bloom,” he read aloud, enjoying the return of his own tenor voice.  “‘Harper is the most tender, talented, tireless stallion I know.  He’s never spoken a bad word about anypony, and he’s always trying to make your day.  Most of the time he does.’  Most of the time?” he commentated mid-quote.  “Gee, thanks, Bloom.  ‘He’s kind and honest and loyal, generous and funny and friendly; everything a good friend should be.’  It doesn’t take a Royal Investigator to see the love in this mare’s eyes.”

The reporter’s written observation startled Harper as he read it.  Apple Bloom… loved him?  Of course it wasn’t the same kind of love he held for her, but still: somepony totally out of their loop had described Apple Bloom’s feelings for Harper as love.

He smiled sadly, pushing the newspaper away with his left hoof while he finished his macaroni with his right.  What was he thinking, confessing his feelings to Apple Bloom?  Sure, he was caught up in the heat of the moment, spurred on by the mare’s own encouraging shouts, but that was no excuse to go spilling a secret he’d kept for more than ten years.  Their relationship had been perfect.  Stalled, perhaps—torturous, at times—but somehow perfect nonetheless.  They spent time together, they could talk about anything, they hugged and laughed and nuzzled… now he was wilting away in bandages, and she was his distant avenger.

He used to think she’d fall in love with him, too.  He used to think that if they only spent enough quality time together, she would realize how perfect they were for each other: two village-born artists with bittersweet family backgrounds, struggling to make a difference in the world.  He used to think they’d get married and have adorable little foals with accents like their mother and rhythm like their father.

“That’ll be the day,” he muttered to himself, levitating his messy plate to the pile of dishes building in the kitchen sink.  He stared at the precarious tower for a moment, contemplating whether or not to clean them himself.  There were still several hours until any of his roommates came home from their classes, and he really had nothing else to do.  Somewhat reluctantly, he directed the nimble magic of his horn over the faucet; it began to fill the empty half of the deep metal basin with scalding water while he rummaged through the kitchen cabinets searching for dish soap.

Two minutes later he had halved the mounting pile and a stack of shiny dishes was building to his right.  Both of his forehooves were at work beneath the water, scrubbing hardened residue off the oldest dishes while his magic rinsed and dried the items just above its surface.  He hummed quietly to himself as he washed, sometimes letting lyrics form between his buzzing lips.

“…cheer – up – Charlie Horse, don’t let your face stay twist’nnn…”

Behind Harper, the silhouette of a very tall, sickly thin stallion appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“…for something good, you’ll find what yer hmmm hmmm-nn…”

The shade stepped into the room without a noise.  Had Harper seen it, he would have wondered how it was possible for a pony of that size to tread so lightly.

“…Pinkie, you gotta stand up tall, learn to face your fears…”

The figure was directly behind him now.  It held a practiced breath, hovering a jet-black hoof above the trail of Harper’s scabby mane.

“…I’m gonna make you smiiiile and I will brighten up your day…”

With one swift kick, the assassin silenced Harper’s humming.  The dazed pony’s head dropped into the soapy water.  Before he could lift himself, two sharp, pitiless hooves pressed down behind his ears.

Harper began to panic, struggling with all his might against the assassin’s hold.  He kicked and bucked and squirmed for nearly thirty seconds, but his efforts were fruitless.  The stranger was deceptively strong, although Harper never got the chance to make that observation.  His lake-blue eyes never saw the noiseless pegasus who killed him.

When Harper was a colt, before he met Apple Bloom, he used to dream of swimming in cookie dough.  It was a bizarre sensation, one that only a very young imagination can create with enough accuracy to be appealing.

His last thoughts were not of Ponyville, or of his mother, or of his family’s harp, or even of Apple Bloom.  The final coherent thought behind his wild, stinging eyes was the strangely serene image of wading through a pool of cookie dough with Pinkie Pie, singing a duet with her.

“It’s true, some days are dark and lonely…” they sang together, “and maybe you feel sad, but Pinkie will be there to show you that it isn’t that bad!”

But Pinkie wasn’t there when Harper Heartstrings passed away.
> 6 - One Step at a Time
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


CHAPTER SIX
ONE STEP AT A TIME


Apple Bloom ran.

She remembered all the times she had run away: from Fluttershy’s cottage to chase down a chicken; from Snails’ embarrassing invitation to the School Dance; from the tragic scene of Pinkie Pie’s accident; from Harper’s confession…

Big, hot tears streamed down her cheeks as she gasped for breath, but she didn’t stop running.  She had to get away from it all.  She had to go home.  And there was only one colt who knew how to get there.


(/\/\)


Four hours earlier, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle had stared in shivering shock as the coffin of their dear friend was lowered into a gaping hole in the northwest corner of the Canterlot Cemetery.  The Saturday Sun was setting; three days of crying had left their eyes wide and dry.  Green and amber irises followed the morbid box until it hit the solid earth below.  A solemn unicorn lifted a pile of dirt with his magic and filled the grave in a matter of seconds.  Then it was over, and the small crowd of mourners went their separate ways.

All except for Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle who, standing flank to flank, quietly watched the Sunset together, remembering the days it was guided by a Princess who truly cared about the ponies beneath its glow.

“I gotta go home, Sweetie Belle,” Apple Bloom finally said.  The phrase had been running through her mind since the moment she heard of Harper’s murder.  “I cain’t stay here any longer.  I’m just a little farm pony.  I cain’t handle this horrible city.”

For some reason, she had expected Sweetie Belle to be angry.  Instead she nodded under a black veil, soaking in the warbled colors of the setting Sun.  “I agree, Apple Bloom.  You belong in Ponyville.  It was foalish and selfish of me to let you come here.  You should go home.”

Her voice trembled with regret, though her face remained stiff.

“I only wish there was a way back,” Apple Bloom mused, ignoring the urge to counter Sweetie’s self-depreciation.  “The station doesn’t offer tickets home.  Ponyville really is quarantined.  I’m stuck here forever.”

The final sliver of the Sun dipped beneath the distant horizon.  From their elevation in the outskirts of the mountainside city, the mares looked out on the expansive landscape of Equestria.  A huge mass of shimmering clouds drifted slowly above the Everfree Forest that darkened the eastern lands: Cloudsdale, the ever-migrating weather factory and home to tens of thousands of pegasi.  Had it, too, been affected—or infected—by Twilight’s regime?

A more applicable question puzzled Apple Bloom’s mind.  “If Ponyville is quarantined,” she asked aloud, “how come Harper and I were allowed to come to Canterlot?”

“Quarantined isn’t the right word,” Sweetie explained.  “Ponyville is cut off, severed from the rest of the country.  Equestrians aren’t allowed to go there, but the School is international.  Anypony can be accepted from any part of the world.”

“But a train came to pick us up,” Apple Bloom remembered.  “A train carryin’ hundreds o’ ponies who coulda just hopped off.”

“Why would they want to?” Sweetie answered with a question.  “Twilight’s been putting it into the public opinion that Ponyville’s a rotten place.  I’m sure you’ve seen hints of that while you’ve been here.”

In fact, Apple Bloom had received a surprising amount of shocked or disgusted looks from fellow students who learned of her humble origins.  She hadn’t thought much of it until then.

“Besides,” Sweetie Belle added, “though you may not have noticed, I’m sure there were guards posted on that train to keep an eye on its passengers.  You didn’t see anypony get off that train before you boarded, did you?”

Apple Bloom shook her head.  “Guess not.”

They were quiet for a while, waiting for the Moon to rise.

“There are ponies who do it, though.”

The unicorn’s words were low and crisp, as if she were reciting an ancient secret.  Apple Bloom’s own voice sunk to softer, safer levels.

“What’d’ya mean?”

For the first time, Sweetie’s eyes broke from the west, locking instead on the city rooftops far to her left.

“There are ponies who visit Ponyville.  At least, there’s one.  I met him in my first semester, back when things weren’t quite so bad in Canterlot.  He’s just a little colt who visits his mother every couple of months—”

“Charlie!” Apple Bloom exclaimed, startling Sweetie out of her methodical reveal.

“You know Charlie?”  Her voice cracked.

Apple Bloom nodded.  “He was on the train with his ma!  I forgot all about it!”  Her happy memory inspired a smile.  “They told me about meeting you and how you’ve been helpin’ him ‘find his voice.’  He’s a mighty powerful singer!”

Sweetie Belle gasped.  “He sang?  On the train!?”

“Mmm-hmm!” Apple Bloom confirmed.  “Poor fella had quite the stutter when he tried to speak with me, but boy, when he started singin’ over Harper’s song…”

She broke off.  The reminder of why they were standing in a cemetery yanked both girls from their temporary clouds back to familiar depths.

“I forgot about him,” Apple Bloom continued.  “How does he do it, Sweetie?  How does he visit Ponyville?”

To her dismay, the unicorn only shrugged.  “I’ve never asked him.  I only know he can.”

Apple Bloom stared.  “You never asked ‘im?  Why not!?  You coulda come and visited us!  You coulda told all o’ Ponyville about what’s been happenin’ to Equestria and Twilight and—”

“And what good would that have done?” Sweetie snapped.  Apple Bloom leaned away.  “I live here now, Bloom.  I have a life and career ahead of me and… and if I went back home I’d never want to leave and—”  Fresh tears born of a different sadness leaked from Sweetie Belle’s tight-shut eyes.  “—a-and everything would just get worse and worse here while I pretended to be happy in a tiny little town where ponies think I’m special no matter what and never really appreciate the hard work I put into my talent and nothing would ever change and I’d be so bored and miserable!”

She choked, unable to express exactly what she wanted to.  Apple Bloom’s aching heart understood what she meant: unlike the traditional farm pony, Sweetie Belle thrived on change and progress.  Growing up, Canterlot had always been her ideal escape from Ponyville, the perfect destination, the ultimate goal.  Even in its state of decay, the Royal City offered some degree of the busy life that was nowhere to be found in Ponyville.

“No,” Sweetie said between increasingly controlled gasps.  “No, I can’t go back to Ponyville.  But you, Apple Bloom.”  Her reddened eyes narrowed gravely.  “You have to go back.  You have to let them know.  You have to… to try to… I don’t know, to fix something!”

Watching her friend’s expressions shift between despondent, angry, determined, hopeful, and downright terrified, Apple Bloom nodded unsurely.

“I… I’ll think o’ somethin’,” she promised.  “I swear that I’ll try.”

“Then go,” Sweetie commanded, lowering her head.  “Charlie lives in a run-down complex with his father along Saddle Street.  Number forty two.”

The yellow mare hesitated.  Would this be the last time she saw her fragile friend?  Would Sweetie be all right without her?  Maybe she should stay another couple of weeks while things went back to normal, as they always did after a sudden death…

“Go, Apple Bloom!” Sweetie shouted, scaring the red-maned pony out of her thoughts.  “Get back home!  Do everything you can!  Run!”

Apple Bloom ran.


(/\/\)


“Forty two, forty two, forty two, forty two…” Apple Bloom repeated breathlessly, raking her eyes across the multi-story rows of dingy doors.  Finally she spotted it: a door along the second level with the fading number 42 painted on its center.  She scampered up a creaky staircase and galloped to the entryway, hammering on its surface with a tired, shaky hoof.

Saddle Street’s condition was the worst Apple Bloom had seen in Canterlot, but she paid no mind to the obscene graphics and phrases plastered on its clay-colored buildings.  She fought off every thought that drifted from finding a way home, concentrating on reuniting with aging Applejack, flawless Fluttershy, regal Rarity, silly Scootaloo—

“Who are you?” a gruff voice asked through the door.

Apple Bloom straightened her neck.  “My name is Apple Bloom,” she answered, “and I’m here to see Charlie Horse.”

A grunt, a pause, and the door creaked open.

“His name isn’t Charlie Horse,” growled the dull red pegasus stallion in the doorway.  He had dark circles around his tired eyes that made him look much older than he was.

Apple Bloom winced.  “Oh… I’m mighty sorry.  That’s what he called himself when I met him on the train a few weeks back.  What’s his name really?”

The stallion surveyed Apple Bloom with a suspicious scowl.  “It’s Charles Brown the Third.”

Apple Bloom cocked her head to one side.  “But he ain’t brown.  Neither are you.”

He snorted.  “Well, Charles Brown the First was brown.  And he passed his name to his red son, who had a tan son of his own.”

“Oh.”

They stared at each other for a moment with very different expressions.

“So… can I see him?” she asked again.  “Is he home?”

Charles Brown the Second sighed and sidestepped out of her way.  “I think he’s still awake upstairs.  You a friend of Sweetie Belle’s?” he asked as she trotted inside.

“Yes,” she answered.

“Singer?” Mr. Brown guessed as he shut the front door.

“Painter, actually,” she corrected.  “We’re roommates now, but we’ve been friends since we were little fillies.”

The stallion’s lip twitched toward a sneer.  “So you’re from Ponyville.”

Apple Bloom rolled her eyes.  “Yeah, I’m from Ponyville, but it’s not as bad as Princess Sparkle makes it—”

“I’m well aware of that,” Mister Brown interrupted.  “I got married there.”

The apartment was cramped and almost entirely undecorated.  A tall, narrow staircase rose along the wall behind the grumpy pegasus.  Apple Bloom’s attention was caught by a beautiful hum coming from the upper level.

“Charlie’s up there,” he stated, tossing his head toward the staircase.  “You can go see him once you tell me what you’re here for.”

Unintentionally, hot tears filled the bottom of Apple Bloom’s eyes.

“I… I have somethin’ I need to ask him,” she bumbled.  “Somethin’ important.”

Mr. Brown cocked an eyebrow apathetically but didn’t say another word.  He trotted into another room while Apple Bloom hurried up the steps, brushing the tears away as she went.  They led her to a very short hallway with two doors on the right.  The first was closed; probably Mr. Brown’s room.  The second was wide open, and from it emanated a crisp, clear voice she fondly recognized.

“Charlie?” she asked as she poked her head into the tiny room.  The walls were bare and off-white save for one small poster hung above a short bed.  She didn’t examine it long enough to see what it bore, focusing instead on the earth pony colt lying on his belly in the middle of the room.  He had been scribbling into a journal with a pencil in his mouth.  His melodic humming stopped when he whipped his head to check the face in his doorway.

The pencil dropped to the floor as his lips parted in a wide grin.  “A-A-Apple Bloom!” he stammered, rising to his hooves and galloping to hug her.  Surprised, the yellow mare giggled and returned the small pony’s embrace.

“You remember me!” she laughed.

He nodded.  “I’ve been… I-I-I-I’ve been waiting f-for you to come visit,” he struggled, peeking around the mare.  “W-W-Where’s Sssssss…”

“Sweetie Belle?” Apple Bloom offered, answered with another happy nod from her young friend.  She grimaced.  “Sweetie didn’t come with me, Charlie.  I’m sure she’ll visit on her own to sing with ya soon, but I’m here to ask you a question.”

Charlie noticed the urgency in her voice.  His eyes grew wide and worried while his nodding solemnly slowed.

Apple Bloom swallowed hard.  “I need to get back to Ponyville, Charlie,” she explained, “but the trains don’t go there anymore.  Your mother says you visit every now and again.  I need you to tell me how you do it.”  She placed a trembling hoof on the colt’s shoulder.  “How do I get back home?”

His eyes resumed their brightness.  “That’s ih-ih-easy, Apple Bloom!  I c-c-can help you get… get…”  He gritted his teeth in frustration, taking a deep breath to annunciate each word.  “You.  Get.  Back.”

Apple Bloom bit her lip.  She didn’t want to be rude, but she wondered if Charlie would be able to communicate his method to her.  Perhaps he could write it down, she thought.  Or maybe…

She gasped at the epiphany.  “Charlie!” she exclaimed.  “Could you sing how you do it?”

He blinked once.  “H-huh?”

Her heart hammered as she leaned to the colt’s eye level.  “Make up a song, Charlie.  Tell me how to get back to Ponyville in song.  That way you can tell me loud and clear, and I’ll remember it better!”

Charlie’s ears snapped upward.  His smile rivaled Apple Bloom’s as he wrapped his mind around the idea.  Inside his little ribcage, his lungs began to quiver with upbeat anticipation, for he did so love to help and sing.

“Think you can do it, Charlie?”

Serenely, the colt closed his eyes, gathering notes and rhymes in his head as his eager lungs inflated.  With a trained descent of his lower jaw, he began to sing.


(/\/\)


“Getting back to Ponyville takes seven easy steps
Though it isn’t something that the Royal Guard accepts.
You must do them secretly without a single flaw
Lest, Celestia forbid, you fall into their claw.”

Apple Bloom gulped as she raced toward the train station in the chilling moonlight.  Every shadow seemed sharp and menacing; every alley teemed with filth and echoed the cries of the helpless.  She had never felt so strangely, abstractly scared, nor as fiercely determined to get home.

The second stanza of Charlie’s song replayed in her mind as she approached the barren depot.  The first of his seven “easy” steps.

“First you have to board a train that travels in the night:
I have found it’s easier to hide in softer light.
Never go inside a car where other ponies sit.
Sneak into a cargo box or something dimly lit.”

Slowing to a quiet trot, Apple Bloom slunk through the open gate of the huge train station.  Though there were still a number of restless ponies zipping through its expansive plaza, Apple Bloom’s stomach clenched at its empty eeriness.

Trains were not as prevalent at night, but thanks to her gallop she had arrived just in time.  An old steam-powered locomotive pulled into the station.  It groaned and hissed under years of pressure.  Warily, Apple Bloom glanced around the area in search of a watchful guard.  None of the visible pairs of armored stallions seemed to be paying attention as the old Express came to a complete halt.  Its doors rolled or swung open and dozens of tired ponies scurried out and into Canterlot.  She wondered if any of them were newcomers, just as surprised by the dismal vibe as she had initially been.

Concentrating on Charlie’s directions, Apple Bloom maneuvered through the throng of sleepy ponies who were coming off the train.  She was careful not to bump into any of them for fear of alerting the guards.  By some miracle, she wove through the group toward the last cars where extra cargo was stored.  A small family of blue-hued pegasi were tossing their larger items of luggage into a rusty-roofed boxcar.  Shooting periodic glances at the nearest pocket of guards, Apple Bloom tip-hoofed nearer to the family.  

She caught snippets of their conversation.  By their accents, she determined they were from Trottingham.  Sometimes it was difficult to tell Trottingham accents apart from Canterlot’s, but Apple Bloom had a keen ear for that sort of thing.  She wondered what had brought them to the Royal City and if they’d been surprised by its decay—or if Trottingham had suffered a similar fate since Twilight’s rise to power.  She shuddered and narrowed her attention around the task at hoof.

The father of the vacationists tossed the last of their bags into the boxcar and started to slide the door shut with his wing.  Apple Bloom yelped and rushed forward, jolting the family of four.

“I’m mighty sorry fer startlin’ ya, sir,” she whispered, “but I, uh… I think I mighta forgotten a book I wanted for the ride in my tote.  D’ya mind leavin’ that open for me?  I’ll just hop on in and grab it.”

“Certainly, young lady,” the stallion replied with a tired but genuine smile.  With a small grunt, he pushed the door back to its wide open position and allowed Apple Bloom to hop inside with her powerful hind legs.

“Goodness me, that’s quite a vertical,” he acknowledged as she made her way into the darkness.

“Heh… thanks.  I grew up on a farm.  Strong kickers,” she explained, tapping one of her back hooves against the floor of the car.

The family didn’t move, looking up at her with expectant smiles.  She grinned weakly and coughed into a hoof.

“Uh… it’ll prob’ly take me a minute to find my book.  Y’all can go ahead, I don’t wantcha waitin’ up for me.  Thank ya kindly!”

She held a nervous smile across her face until the stallion said, “All right, then, we’ll see you on board.  And if not, have a good night!”

The family trotted to a passenger car.  With one last glance at the oblivious guards in the distance, Apple Bloom slammed the rolling door closed and buried herself deep in a chaotic pile of suitcases.  She closed her eyes in the darkness and tried to calm her rapid breathing, waiting for the lurch of the train.  It came within minutes and she sang the next verse of Charlie’s instructional song to its quickening beat.

“Second, wait until the train has finished its descent.
You will feel the mountain’s slope become less steep and bent.
When you’re sure the train will travel straight for quite a time
Leave your hiding spot (that’s third) and find a way to climb.”

All she had to do was wait until the train had snaked down the mountain and then find a way onto the roof.  While the train was moving.  At full speed.

She’d done dumber.

The trip between Canterlot and Ponyville was only a couple of hours.  Descending to the flatlands of Equestria from the elevated city took nearly a quarter of that.  To Apple Bloom, however, it seemed that several days crept by before she finally felt the train level out.  As soon as the sensation stabilized and she was certain they were moving straight, she burst from the stacks of luggage and moved to the boxcar’s door.  Biting her lip, Apple Bloom used her forehooves to yank at the inner handle.  The wooden barrier slid away easily.

The sudden noise of the barreling train startled her more than it should have.  The boxcar was quite soundproof, and the influx in volume was enough to pain her ears.  Gritting her teeth against her fear, Apple Bloom poked her head into the whipping wind and surveyed the Moonlit landscape.  Dark greens and greyish blues dominated the hills and pastures rolling from the tracks in all directions.  Awestruck by its beauty, Apple Bloom snapped out of her trance and turned her attention to the speeding train itself.

She had boarded the third to last car.  Six more separated her from the engine—but she was getting ahead of herself.  The third step had yet to be completed.

Apple Bloom checked for a conventional path to the roof.  Perhaps there was a ladder of some kind on the outside of the car.  To her simultaneous relief and terror, there was a helpful ladder… at the far end of the box.  She was leaning halfway out of the train on the end nearest the engine while the ladder was welded in place on the end closer to the caboose.

She moaned, knowing she would have to jump for it.  If she missed….  

She wondered how fast the train was moving.  Would she survive an impact with the ground?

Perhaps foolishly, she didn’t give herself a chance to answer that.  Eyes locked on the ladder’s middle rungs, she flung herself into the open night air and spun one hundred and eighty degrees in the wind.  Her outstretched forehooves caught the rungs and stopped the upper half of her body.  The lower half, caught in the furious gales, slammed against the boxcar’s exterior.  Wincing, Apple Bloom shuffled her hind legs into position and started to climb the ladder.  It was a short, quick scramble to the rust-colored roof.

“Step Three, complete,” she said aloud, unable to hear her own voice over the noisy train.  She stole a brief glance at Cantlerlot looming wickedly overhead before turning to her unseen hometown and the front of the train.  “Now fer number Four.”  She cleared her throat.

“Fourth, and once you’re on the roof, you’d better hurry fast.
That most safe and straight of stretches doesn’t really last.
Soon the train will start to make a turn both left and wide.
You had better be secure or you’ll slip off the side.”

Sure enough, the tracks ahead curved along the base of a giant, grassy hill.  Apple Bloom gulped, running her eyes over the flat top of the boxcar for an anchor.  There was absolutely nothing to hold, and she only had a matter of seconds before the turn.  Panicking, Apple Bloom galloped forward and leapt across the little gap between her car and the one in front of it.  Unfortunately it was a refreshments car with an impractically, if adorably, arched roof.

With no other option, Apple Bloom laid herself flat against the peak of the arch and stretched her legs out to her sides as far as they would go.  The train banked left around the hill; Apple Bloom squeezed her eyes shut and tried to clamp her body to the smooth roof.  Though centrifugal forces pulled at her weight, her position kept her from stumbling overboard.  She was especially grateful in that moment not to be a pegasus, certain that hollow bones would not have helped her situation.  Then again, if she was a pegasus she could have just flown back to Ponyville…

She shook away the meaningless debate as the tracks straightened once again.  Rising to her shaky hooves, she recited the next of Charlie’s verses.

“Fifth is very dangerous, so try to treat it blunt.
Keep a level head and travel up toward the front.
By that time the train will be a-swervin’ to and fro;
Try hard to ignore it and just giddy-up and go.”

There were now five cars between Apple Bloom and the steam engine.  As far as the eye could see, the upcoming tracks wove in between an endless plain of short, rotund hills.  None of the turns were nearly as dramatic as the one she’d just survived.  Arming herself with Charlie’s prescribed “level head,” Apple Bloom thundered forward, leaping from roof to decorative roof as fast as her legs would carry her.  The train below her hooves snaked from left to right as it followed its wavy path, but she refused to slow down, keeping her eyes trained on her next goal.

“When you reach the car behind the engine at the head,
Take Step Six with caution, or you might as well be dead.
Ponyville’s approaching: you can see it getting near,
But the train has orders not to drop off ponies here.”

Apple Bloom landed on the first passenger car and squinted into the night.  To her dismay, she saw no approaching Ponyville.  Glancing up at the gleaming Moon, she realized her mistake: the two-hour trip was only maybe halfway over.  Step six would have to wait.

She groaned and dropped onto her belly, staring at the giant silver orb in the sky.  Were the Princesses really up there, trapped by some indescribable prison of magic?  She didn’t think Twilight was that powerful.  Then again, she had seen the protégé do some pretty incredible things in the past.

In the past… hadn’t the train ride to Canterlot been shorter in the past?  She vaguely remembered an older set of tracks, one that wrapped through caves in a mountain very close to Ponyville and traveled quickly over timber bridges and through hoof-made tunnels.  She wondered what had happened to that much faster route.  Did the tunnels cave in?  Had the bridges fallen?  Or, perhaps, was it all destroyed as part of Ponyville’s separation?

Anger and sorrow buzzed in Apple Bloom’s chest and mind.  The spring night was chilly and she shivered under the stars, imagining Charlie making this same dangerous trip.  How many times had he done it?  And how on earth had he figured it all out?

Keeping her mind busy with unanswerable questions seemed to do the trick.  Suddenly her attention was caught by a small clump of unnatural lights on the horizon.  Ponyville!  She beamed at the cluster, abandoning every thought that didn’t pertain to her return.  As she cautiously rose to her hooves, Apple Bloom sang the next chunk of her instructions.

“Six is all position: stand with fervor at the edge.
Make sure that your forehooves are just halfway on the ledge.
Crouch your hind legs all the way and hold them like a spring.
That part’s kind of scary, so I sometimes like to sing.”

She had to agree, finding comfort in her own voice as she assumed the heart-stopping stance at the rightmost edge of the roof.

“Seven happens quickly so you have to be alert.
On the right side of the tracks you’ll see a path of dirt.
At the very end of it’s a natural pit of mud.
Time your leap just perfectly and land without a thud!”

Terror squeezed her ribs together as she stared at the ground ten feet below.  It moved by so quickly that all details were lost in a blur.  Twisting her head to the left, she realized that the distant ground was easier to watch.  In fact, Charlie’s promised “path of dirt” shone against the dark green grass all around it.

“I sure hope this mud-hole o’ yers is fit fer a full-grown mare, Charlie,” she worried under her breath, tucking up her back legs and readying to leap.

The unusual line of bare dirt running parallel with the tracks was coming up quick.  The Moonlight accentuated a large pool of sticky mud at the far end of the path.  Apple Bloom scooted her forehooves just over the edge of the train.  Her tail twitched as she waited for just the right moment.  Her ragged breath added to the rhythm of the wheels.  She had to jump… she had to trust Charlie… she had to get back home…

“Hey!  Who are you?” an angry voice shouted from the engine.  Apple Bloom lost her focus, turning toward the shout with frightened eyes.  “Whataya doin’ up here?”

A large pegasus stallion scaled onto the roof with a series of grunts just as a dark cloud passed over the Moon.

“You can’t be up here!  Get down!” the stranger shouted.  Apple Bloom couldn’t see his face or color in the sudden darkness and hoped he was blind to her identifying features as well.  

The figure rushed toward her.  Without thinking, the farmpony released her scrunched up hind legs and kicked her accuser in the exposed chest.  With a high pitched howl, the stallion stumbled backward and reached for his cracked sternum, allowing Apple Bloom a moment to look over the edge.  She cursed as the mud-hole zipped past her car.  How would she dismount the train now?

“What the hay was that?” the stallion squealed, collapsing to his knees.  “Oh, Luna!  Oh, Luna’s stars, I’m dying…”

“Yer not dyin’,” Apple Bloom argued, rolling her eyes.

“Ah,” the stallion breathed.  “A southerner.  You from Ponyville, then?”

Apple Bloom cringed at her own mistake, more grateful than ever for the darkness.  It wouldn’t last for much longer, though.  She needed to find a way off the train.

“Answer me, mare!” the other pony growled.  His silhouette started to crawl toward her.  The frightening movement jolted Apple Bloom into heedless action.  A group of tall, bent pine trees extending from the Everfree Forest appeared near the tracks just ahead and with a single, hopeful gasp, Apple Bloom hurled herself over the edge of the train and into the embrace of their branches.


(/\/\)


Applejack couldn’t sleep.  Something wasn’t right.  She could feel it.

She sighed and rolled out of bed.  She trotted through her little farmhouse absentmindedly, surveying anything and everything with no particular interest.  Something in the kitchen caught her emerald eyes: Apple Bloom’s acceptance letter, tacked to the wall beside her family photos.  A smile lifted her lips as she drew closer to the arrangement, drinking in the details of each picture.

Hanging in the upper left was a photograph of Granny Smith when she was just a filly.  She wore a traditional checkered dress, and her mane was tied into a pair of braids.  Applejack found herself laughing, grateful that she didn’t have to wear a bonnet.

In the next picture, Granny was quite a bit older: enough to have a kind-eyed husband and two large sons standing around her.  The photograph had no color, but Applejack’s mind filled in the coat of the larger son with yellow.  Apple Bloom had inherited her father’s golden hide, but Applejack had been blessed with his gorgeous green eyes.

The biggest picture on the wall was in color, testifying to her accurate memory.  There stood her massive yellow father, cheek to cheek with her ruby-red mother.  Granny Smith stood beside her son, smiling directly at the camera, while two wild foals laughed and played at their parents’ hooves.  Applejack sighed again, this time with nostalgia.  Big Mac hadn’t been so big back then, and that adorable little ball of orange fur…

“Heheh.  Cute as a button,” Applejack complimented herself, sliding a tender hoof over the picture frame’s glass.

Her eyes skipped over the rest of the photographs.  Too many of those faces had left her life.  Grandad, Granny, Ma, Pa, Braeburn’s father, and, most recently, Apple Bloom.  With a stubborn grunt, she whipped away from the display and moved into her living room, forcing her missing family out of her thoughts.  She didn’t want to cry tonight.

Applejack opened the front door with her teeth and stood on her porch, gazing fondly over Sweet Apple Acres.  It had only been a few weeks since Winter Wrap Up, but the leaves had already returned full-force.  Before long, apple buds would start to appear on those branches, and then clumps of apples would be ready for thinning.  Already her hind legs itched for Apple Buck Season, but that was still quite a ways off.  One step at a time.

The moonlit orchards made for a terrific sight.  As she basked in the beauty of her family’s famous farm, Applejack sighed for the third time, colored with appreciative contentment for the awe-striking landscape.  What she wouldn’t give to share that moment with somepony.

Applejack’s ears drooped in solemn realization: she was lonely.  She had been lonely for a long time.  Half a decade ago, she could have taken her pick of five different ponies to visit right then, even in the dead of night.  But now?

Fluttershy was married—to Applejack’s brother, of all stallions—and had a wonderful little family to look after.  Rarity was just as busy as ever; Applejack knew better than to interrupt the timeless pony’s beauty sleep.  Rainbow Dash had moved back to Cloudsdale as the Wonderbolts’ trainer years ago.  Twilight was a Princess now and hadn’t sent a single word since her relocation to the Canterlot castle.  And Pinkie Pie…

Applejack’s fourth sigh was a very sad one.

Pinkie Pie was dead.  In many ways, that was even stranger than Twilight’s transformation.  Of course they went together in Applejack's mind.  Five years before, it had been Applejack that first found Pinkie in the library...

The morbid memory faded as the orange pony noticed movement among her trees.  She blinked several times to clear up any illusion.  Sure enough, a dark, bulgy figure limped out of the orchard, dragging itself in the direction of the barn.

“What in tarnation…” Applejack muttered, hopping down from her porch and trotting quickly down the pebble-spotted path.  “Hey!” she called out as she neared the misshapen pony.  “You all right there?  Can I help you with anythang?”

A patch of wispy clouds fell away from the Moon, bathing the stranger in brighter light.  Applejack gasped at the quivering, red-maned mare covered in blood, branches, and tree sap.

“Hey, Sis,” Apple Bloom managed to squeak before crumpling to the ground with a weary smile.


(/\/\)


“There you’ll have to wait until the train has passed you by.
It’s another twenty minute walk beneath the sky.
Trot along the train tracks headed south and all uphill:
Next thing that you know, you’re back at home in Ponyville!”
	
> 7 - That Makes Them Special
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


CHAPTER SEVEN
THAT MAKES THEM SPECIAL




The captain of the Royal Guard galloped through the cavernous castle halls.  For a brief moment—and only a brief moment—he remembered back to when those halls were full of life and bustle, when dozens if not hundreds of visiting ponies trotted through the palace to admire its architecture, collections of ancient fine art, and dazzling stained-glass windows glorifying significant events of Equestrian history.  He remembered the glimmer of hope in their eyes that a Princess might make their acquaintance around every corner, and the way they bowed and beamed and drooled when Celestia or Luna indeed the took time to greet them.

His memories were cast aside for the morning’s task at hoof.  The metallic clashes of his horseshoes against the granite floors thundered to the vaulted ceiling.  Thick curtains covered all the colored windows, making dim his path to the throne room.

He wasted no time with pleasantries, storming past the appointed guards to buck open a heavy set of enormous double doors.  The unexpected brightness of the hallowed chamber seared the captain’s open pupils.  He lifted a hoof to shade his eyes and peered through the tingling whiteness.  A tall, violet pony was hunched at a narrow opening in the wall, aiming her horn at the eastern horizon and shivering with painful effort.

“Princess Sparkle!” he called across the room, sprinting its length to her side.  Though her glowing eyes were as wide as could be, her teeth were clenched together.

“Help—me—” she managed to growl between her strained grimace.

The captain complied, pressing the tip of his pure white horn against hers.  It crackled and sparked, radiating nigh unbearable amounts of heat and light, but he ignored the magic’s dangerous residue.  With the captain’s concentration added to her spell, Twilight Sparkle pumped a mighty burst through her spindly horn and the Sun finally broke the horizon.  As it assumed its natural path across the sky, Twilight released her spell and crumpled to the floor with an exhausted whimper.

“Princess!  Are you all right?” the blue-maned stallion asked, hesitant to help the winded princess to her hooves.

“I thought… it would get… easier…” she mumbled between rattling inhalations.

He waited for Twilight to regain herself and jumped at the sudden noise of the throne room doors slamming shut.  He turned to see Twilight’s rosy aura of magic vanish from around them.  One bright flash later, the Princess had teleported into her throne and was waiting with regal posture.

“Your report, Captain?” she asked without looking his way.

“Er… what?”

“Your report.  Did you not come here to report?”

“Oh… oh!  Yes, of course.”

He left the stony windowsill at a quick gait and knelt before her throne.

“Impressive stamina for a stallion your age,” she remarked.  He wasn’t sure if she was referring to his activity around the throne room or his help raising the Sun.  “I am glad for it,” she continued.  Her voice was cold and multi-layered, but the captain had heard it enough not to shiver.  “Replacing you after all these years would certainly prove difficult.  What urgent news have you to report this morning, Shining Armor?”

“My Princess,” he began without rising from his bow, speaking into the ground, “the Guard has received word that a stowaway leapt from the train near Ponyville last night.”

Twilight Sparkle’s slanted eyes illuminated with wrath.  “What!?  Did they survive?”

“There is an undercover squadron investigating as we speak,” he reported.

An angry snort blasted from her nostrils.  “Was the jumper identified?”

“I’m afraid not, Princess,” Shining Armor admitted.  “The stallion who tried to apprehend the subject described her as an adult female with a strong southern accent.”

As her eyes lost their glow, they narrowed suspiciously.  “I see.  Bring me the stallion who failed to detain her.”

“I will escort him to your presence as soon as he is able,” he said with a quaver of hesitation.

“What’s stopping him?”

Shining Armor cleared his throat.  “The jumper broke several of his ribs, Princess.  He’s undergoing surgery this morning.”

“That shouldn’t take long,” Twilight acknowledged.  “I expect to see him before noon today.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Shining Armor promised, nodding in his bow.

Another long silence deadened the room, revealing to Shining Armor an obnoxious ring deep in his ears left over from the whine of the Princess’s magic.

“Permission to speak freely,” he requested.

Twilight shifted a little.  “Of course, brother.”

He finally rose from his long show of respect with a worried expression fixed over his face.  “I thought you said your ability was improving.”

“It is.  Usually.”  Twilight ran a nervous hoof through her ethereally flowing mane of purple, pink, and midnight blue.  “Lowering the bodies is simple, and raising the Moon has gotten much easier.  It’s just the Sun that gives me trouble.”

Shining Armor knew better than to argue.  “Do you think it would be wise to keep me close?” he suggested.  “Unless you know of another unicorn whose love will boost your spell, having me around in the mornings as a backup may prove beneficial.”

Twilight scowled.  “If you had given me a few more minutes, I could have completed the rise on my own.”

He wanted to remind her that she had asked for his help, but moved on to his next question.

“Do you have any intuitions on the identity of our jumper?”

Twilight flicked her wings.  “Not solidly enough to accuse anypony, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she belonged to the Apple Family.”

His brow furrowed.  “What would Applejack be doing on the train?”

Twilight shook her head.  “Let’s wait for the squadron’s investigation.  Their evidence is sure to be enlightening.”

A single nod represented his silent agreement and the Princess excused him to his duties.  The castle was just as empty traveling in the other direction, and Shining Armor couldn’t help but pay extra attention to the streaks of Sunlight slashing across the ground.

Ever since her rise to power, Shining Armor had refused to doubt his sister.  She was acting on what she knew was right.  Even so, her struggle to fulfill the old Princesses’ duties had not improved in years.  He hated to dwell on the thought, but… what would happen if, one day, Equestria’s only Princess couldn’t raise the Sun?


(/\/\)


WHAM!

“Apple Bloom, darling, you look positively dreadful!  What happened?”

“She jumped off the train, Rarity.  Give ‘er a little space, would’ja?  Clearly she’s in no position to rightly explain herself just yet.”

“Oh, my… w-will she be all right, Doctor?”

“No need to worry, Miss Fluttershy.  We’ve cleaned her out and stitched her up.  I’m sure she’ll be back on her hooves this time tomorrow.  For now we just need to be patient while she gets a little rest.”

POW!

“Apple Bloom!  Can ya hear me, Bloom?  Come on, you stupid filly, wiggle your ears or something!”

“I think you may have missed the doctor’s call for patience, Scootaloo.”

“Shut up, Rarity.  What are you even doing here?”

“My word!  Young lady, I understand the situation is stressful, but that’s no reason to show such disrespect.”

THUMP!

“And to answer your outrageous question, I am here on account of my dear friend’s unexpected return and subsequent injury.”

“Your dear friend?  Ha!  She’s as much your friend as I am.  You never gave us the time of day when we were fillies.”

“Now I reckon that’s quite enough, Scootaloo.”

“What kind of sister are you, anyway, trying to fix her up yourself?  If Fluttershy hadn’t convinced you to take her to the hospital—”

“Oh my…”

“—Apple Bloom might have DIED!”

FWAP!

“Who in thunderation do you think you are, tellin’ me how t’take care o’ my sister?”

“You didn’t take her to the hospital right away?  Applejack, you should know better than that!”

“Don’t you DARE start counselin’ ME on sisterhood, Rarity!”

“Girls, please… I think Apple Bloom is…”

BLAM!

“I learned my lesson when—”

“—bunch of stupid, mushy—”

“—ain’t got no experience—”

“—and you DARE to indict me—”

“EVERYPONY SHUT UP!”

BOOM!

The bucking bag snapped from its post.  Apple Bloom’s powerful kick sent it spinning wildly through the air.  It slammed into an apple tree hard enough to leave a long, smooth impression in the bark.

Sucking in breaths through gritted teeth, Apple Bloom wiped a bit of spittle from the corner of her mouth.  Nothing was as relieving or distracting as setting up a bucking bag in the far corner of Sweet Apple Acres and putting her hard-earned karate skills to work.

“Everypony just shut up,” she said under her breath, just as she had at the hospital three days before.  “I got somethin’ to tell y’all.”

She sighed and shuffled to the fallen bag, taking it by the chain in her teeth.  The most important link had broken.  There was no way to hang it up now.

After staring at the useless bag for a while, Apple Bloom left the Acres for town.  There were more bags to beat up at the local gym.

Ponyville had grown desolate over the last few days.  Apple Bloom’s hospital audience had slowly, gravely spread the word about Twilight, Canterlot, Ponyville’s secession, and Harper’s murder.  Nopony knew quite how to react and turned to quiet confusion and sorrow.  So there she was, at 5 o’clock in the afternoon, alone in the old dirt roads as if Zecoraphobia had returned.

Zecora.  Even in her emotional depths, Apple Bloom couldn’t help but smile as she thought of the old zebra.  The town had never been the same since she passed away. Apple Bloom added ‘Visit Zecora's hut’ to her mental checklist of things to do in Ponyville.  Right after ‘Visit Lyra’.  That was a conversation she wasn’t looking forward to.  All the same, she’d have to get it over with sooner than later.  She didn’t plan on staying in Ponyville for very long; Sweetie Belle’s plea still rung in her head.

“You have to FIX SOMETHING!”

“How?” she asked herself as she reached the Ponyville gym.  “What’s left to fix?”

The gym was almost void of patrons.  Apple Bloom trotted past the front desk to the dojo at the back of the building, passing only an enormous white pegasus lifting large weights with his forelegs.  From his expression, she guessed he had already heard the news and weightlifted to cope.  It seemed to be his special talent.

As she had hoped, the dojo was unoccupied.  She sat in the center of its dull red flooring, admiring the Ma Tuo Di décor and remembering her old experiences between those paper walls.

On her very first visit to the dojo she was accompanied by Rainbow Dash.  They didn’t stay for very long.  As soon as Rainbow decided karate wasn’t Apple Bloom’s special talent, she dragged her back to Sweet Apple Acres to try her luck at kite flying.  Those few minutes had struck a chord in Apple Bloom, however, and she returned to the dojo on her own several times in an attempt to improve her skills.

Her efforts didn’t go unnoticed.  One day, after Cheerilee dismissed her students, Rainbow Dash caught Apple Bloom outside the schoolhouse.

“I heard you’ve been going back to the gym pretty often,” she began, backstroking through the air.  “Still trying to get that karate Cutie Mark, huh?”

“Not really,” Apple Bloom had answered.  “I just think it’s fun, kickin’ stuff ‘n’all.”

“Whoa, kid,” Rainbow said, landing in front of her.  “Karate isn’t just about kicking stuff.  It’s about discipline—”  She stuck out her chest and raised one hoof off the ground.

“—control—”

She slashed her hoof just above Apple Bloom’s head, grazing the filly’s bow and making her gasp.

“—and awesomeness!”

With a mighty flap of her sky blue wings, she leapt high into the air and flipped backward twice.  Her spiraling tail left a streak of every color and she landed on the ground so hard the pebbles nearest her scattered over the road.

Apple Bloom’s mouth hung open.  Nearby, Scootaloo’s eyes threatened to pop out of her skull.

“Will ya teach me, Rainbow Dash?” Apple Bloom begged, scurrying up the brazen pegasus.  “Maybe karate ain’t my special talent, but I love it to pieces all the same!  Please, Rainbow Dash, can we try karate lessons again?  I gotta get better at it, I just gotta!”

“Take it easy, Bloom,” Rainbow laughed.  “Sure I’ll help ya out.  But if we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it right.  That means you follow my orders on my schedule.  Got it?”

Apple Bloom had nodded vigorously, flopping her bow.

“Good.”

All these years later, Apple Bloom was just as skilled as Rainbow Dash had ever been.  Maybe even better.  

Filled with a sudden burst of pride, Apple Bloom leapt from the center of the dojo and attacked the nearest bucking bag.  Her forehooves jabbed at its painted red X at blurring speeds.  One spinning kick to its side rattled the overhead chain.  Satisfied by an imaginary knock-out, the limber mare hurled herself across the room with a loud “Hiya!” and delivered a shattering kick to her next opponent.

Twenty minutes passed before Apple Bloom collapsed, panting harder than Winona on a cattle round-up day.  

“YEEAAH!” somepony shouted from the dojo’s entrance.  She whipped her head toward the voice, surprised to see the large, white pegasus stallion beaming down at her.

“Yeah what?” she asked between deep breaths.

“That was amazing!” he said in a rough, deep voice.  “You’ve got a lot of moves for such a little pony.”

Apple Bloom chuckled.  “How long have you been standin’ there?”

“About ten minutes,” he said, stepping into the dojo.  “You sure were focused.  Sorry if I’m… interrupting.”  His expression twisted and he started to back away.

“No, it’s fine, really!” Apple Bloom said.  “Tell ya th’truth, I could use a nice conversation.  Things ain’t seemed too friendly since I came back to Ponyville.”

The stallion smiled.  It almost looked funny above his bulky jaw, but Apple Bloom could see the sincerity in his bright red eyes.

“You’re an Apple, right?” he asked.  “I mean, the Apple Family, not… not actually an apple.”

She laughed loud and full.  “I knew whatcha meant.  And yessir, I am a proud member of the Apple Family.  Name’s Apple Bloom.”

“I’m Bulk Biceps,” he greeted, trotting onto the dojo’s flooring and sitting on his haunches near the mare.  She forced her tired limbs to lift her into a similar position.

Bulk cleared his throat before asking, “Aren’t you the one who came back from Canterlot a few days ago?”

Apple Bloom sighed.  “Yeah, that was me.  And I brought all the bad news with me.  I’m sorry, Bulk Biceps, but I’d really rather not talk about all that.”

He nodded.  “That’s fine.  I don’t really want to talk about it either.”  His eyes widened.  “But I do want to know where you learned to fight like that.”

“It ain’t fightin’, really,” she said.  “Just martial arts.  I’ve never used it to hurt nopony.  Well, other than Scootaloo.”  She snickered.  “And I guess I sparred with Rainbow Dash back when she was teachin’ me.”

Bulk gasped.  “Rainbow Dash taught you all that?”

“Yeah!  Did you know her?”

"Who didn’t know Rainbow Dash?  I got to work with her when Ponyville provided the water for Cloudsdale’s weather factory, and later we were on a relay team for the Equestrian Games.  When was all that, more than ten years ago?”  He sighed.  “Still some of the best experiences of my life.”

“Really?”  Apple Bloom smiled with curiosity.  “Why’s that?”

Snowflake’s eyes swept over the ground.  “Well… I’ve never been a great flier,” he started, wiggling his tiny wings, “and ponies used to tease me about my size a lot when I was young.  For the longest time, I felt like… I felt like I wasn’t making any difference, you know?  My special talent was body-building, but who cares about that?  How could I use that to help anyone in Ponyville?”

His frown switched directions as his eyes began to sparkle.

“And then Rainbow Dash came to me one day and told me about her plans to break Fillydelphia’s wingpower record.  She said she needed somepony to help train the pegasi and bring up their strength.  She called me ‘just the stallion for the job’.  I’ve never felt so… so special, you know?  Those few days training for the tornado were heaven for me.  I was always so excited.  I got to use what I know to help somepony else.  And even though we didn’t break the record like Dash wanted, she took the time—actually, a lot of ponies took the time—to personally thank me for my help when it was all over.”

His grin was contagious.  Apple Bloom couldn’t help but feel warmed by the story.

“That’s great, Bulk Biceps.  Really it is,” she said.  “There’s nothin’ quite like usin’ yer special talent to help other ponies, is there?”

“No, ma’am, there’s not,” he agreed.  “What about you?  Is your special talent karate?”

“No way,” Apple Bloom said.  “I guess I’m pretty good at it, but not natural like I am at paintin’.  I had to dedicate a lot o’ time to karate before I got anywhere.  In fact, at one point I was practicin’ so much that it leaked into every other corner o’ my life, even the school talent show!”

Bulk raised a hoof.  “I remember that!  Gosh, you were a lot littler back then.  My son was in your class, if I remember right.”

Apple Bloom blinked.  “Really?  Who’s yer son?”

“His name’s Featherweight,” Bulk said.  

Apple Bloom gasped.  “Yer Featherweight’s dad?  We worked with him on the Foal Free Press!  He was a great editor, y’know.  Much better than Diamond Tiara.”

The compliment made Bulk smile again.  “I’ll tell him you said that.  He always loved that paper.”  He put his little hoof to his burly chin.  “If I remember right, there were three of you in that talent show.  What’d you call yourselves?  Cutie Mark and the Funky Bunch, something like that?”

“The Cutie Mark Crusaders,” she corrected proudly.

“Oh, yeah!  Did they take karate lessons from Rainbow Dash, too?”

“Nah, neither of ‘em caught onto it like I did.  Both of ‘em came to a couple lessons here and there, but it just didn’t click for ‘em.  I stuck with it, though.  Earned my black belt before Rainbow moved away.”

“Wow!  That’s really impress—”

A loud clap of thunder shook the walls of the dojo, jolting both ponies to their hooves.

“Yikes,” Apple Bloom muttered.  “I didn’t know they planned a thunderstorm.”

“I completely forgot,” Bulk said, biting his lip.  “I better head home before the rain gets too bad.”  He offered a hoof.  “It was really good to meet you here, Apple Bloom.”

“You, too, Bulk Biceps,” she agreed, bumping her hoof against his.  “Say hi t’Featherweight for me.”

“Will do.”  He hurried toward the front of the gym out of Apple Bloom’s sight.

She trotted laps around the room to slow her heartbeat, still hammering from her karate.  By the time she left the gym, heavy sheets of rain were pouring from the dark clouds overhead.  The walk back to the Acres would not be a fun one…

Or even a possible one.  The storm was getting worse and worse with every passing second.  Lightning struck near the Everfree Forest.  Apple Bloom had to close her eyes against the whipping wind and stinging rain, briefly taking shelter beneath a small tree to gather her bearings.

The nearest and most familiar building was Carousel Boutique and Apple Bloom sprinted to its door.  She let the rain clean the mud from her hooves before bursting through the purple door of the decorative establishment.

“Welcome to Carousel Boutique,” a familiar voice chimed, “where every garment is… Apple Bloom?”

The pony in question smiled weakly beneath her dripping mane.  “Hi, Rarity.”

“Apple Bloom, you poor darling!  Here, let me fetch you a towel.”

A few minutes later, the farmpony was wrapped up in a warm blanket, sitting on her haunches while Rarity ran a brush through her damp mane.

“Honestly, Scootaloo has been organizing the strangest bouts of weather lately,” Rarity complained.  “Why, just last week she had a tornado along the border of the Everfree.  A tornado!  Can you believe it?”

“Well, uh… yeah,” Apple Bloom admitted.  “She’s always been like that.”

“Like what?  Wild?  Destructive?  Hmph.  I seem to remember Rainbow Dash handling the weather much differently.”

They were both silent for a moment while Rarity’s features softened.

“Actually, Apple Bloom, I… I’ve been meaning to talk to you about… what Scootaloo said at the hospital.”

“I’m real sorry about that, Rarity,” she said.  “Scoots was sayin’ all sorts o’ mean things to y’all.  I think she was just worried about me.”

“As we all were, darling, but that’s not what I meant.  You see… she was right.  When you two and Sweetie Belle spent all your time conquering for Cutie Marks—”

“Crusadin’.”

“—I’m afraid I was often rather distant.  I’d even go so far to call myself snobbish at the time.  And I want to make sure you know how sorry I am for that.  All three of you have grown into fine young mares and I should have taken the time to befriend you all back when life was…”

“Friendlier?”

“Different,” Rarity chose, though she chortled at Apple Bloom’s suggestion.  “There we are, not a tangle left,” she said, levitating the brush to a nearby tabletop.  “Now, how to style it…”

Apple Bloom leapt from the blanket and turned to face Rarity with a forced smile.  “It’s fine.  Really, I like it just like this.  No stylin’ necessary.”

Rarity raised an eyebrow but shrugged in the end.  “There was a time when I would press you on this, Apple Bloom, but if you’re anything like your sister I know you’ll never give in.”  With an amiable smirk, Rarity lifted the blanket and folded it with her magic.  Keeping it afloat by her side, she made her way to the laundry room and left Apple Bloom in the main lobby.

She pushed around a couple locks of her straightened mane and checked herself in one of the Boutique’s many mirrors.  The glass contained a sad, bruised pony who looked as lost and hopeless as was equinely possible, though perhaps that was largely thanks to her hair…

“Hey, Rarity?” she called out.

“Yes, dear?”

“If you were gonna do somethin’ with my mane, what would it be?”

The hesitance in her voice was contrasted by Rarity’s sparkling tone.

“Why, I could do anything!” she exclaimed, whisking back to Apple Bloom.  “You have a very thick mane, darling, but it’s easy enough to style.  I could braid it, like your sister’s at the Gala all those years ago!  Or I could crimp it, I think the color would accentuate that nicely…”  She gasped.  “Or I could curl it like mine!  Not exactly like mine, mind you, I have much thinner hair, but if we trimmed it into a V-shape and ironed the end—”

“Whoa now!  I didn’t say nothin’ about cuttin’ it,” Apple Bloom stopped her.  “I was just curious, that’s all.”

Rarity clicked her tongue in disappointment but didn’t turn away.  Eventually, a gentle smile graced her lips.  “You know, if you were to let me style it, I might just dig out that old pink bow of yours and see how it looks today.”

Apple Bloom’s eyes widened.  “Sweetie Belle told me you kept that.  Do ya still have it?”

“But of course!” Rarity declared, lifting a hoof in a self-satisfied pose.  “I keep every important garment, darling.”

“She mentioned that, too,” Apple Bloom remembered.  “She said you had some kind o’… clothing scrapbook?”

Rarity’s eyebrows tilted in confusion but she quickly laughed it off.  “Well, yes, I suppose it is something like a scrapbook based on meaningful articles of clothing.  Although it’s much less of a scrapbook as it is a scrapnook.”

“Huh?”

“It’s in my attic,” she explained, pointing above their heads.  “I’ve been adding to it since my fillyhood.  There’s quite a collection up there now.”

Apple Bloom bit her lip.  “D’ya think I could take a look?” she asked.

Rarity’s eyes glistened.  “Do you mean it?  Would you really like to?”

“Sure,” said the earth pony with a shrug.  “All I’ve got now is wispy mem'ries.  Wouldn’t hurt to see some hard proof that those good times really happened.”

Rarity squealed with delight, pattering her front hooves against the ground.  “Oh, how wonderful!  Nopony’s ever been interested in my collection before!  You’re going to love it, Apple Bloom, simply love it!”  She continued to squeak and giggle as she hurried to the Carousel’s staircase.  Apple Bloom followed slowly, amused at the older mare’s energy.

“Come now, darling, it’s above my bedroom,” she directed, opening an overhead trapdoor with her magic.  A staircase folded open on its own, leading into the darkness beyond the ceiling.

“It looks creepy,” Apple Bloom noted, chasing Rarity up the steps.

“Far from, my dear,” Rarity assured her.  “If anything, it’s creative.”

With a flash of her horn, several candles on the circular wall ignited.  They cast a warm glow on a number of shrine-like arrangements that covered nearly every square yard of the attic’s wooden floor.  Apple Bloom gasped as the trapdoor closed.

“Well?” Rarity asked.  “What do you think of my masterpiece?”

The room was veritable a maze of clothes.  A narrow walkway cut between neatly piled stacks, fully dressed ponnequins, and mounted displays.  Nearest to the pair of ponies were five small costumes of sweets and flowers, decorated with glittering jewels.

“Rarity… are those the costumes you made when ya got yer Cutie Mark?”

“They most certainly are,” Rarity confirmed, smiling at the fateful outfits.  “You see that leafy yellow one?  Your old teacher Cheerilee wore that in the play.”

A hoot of laughter burst from Apple Bloom.  “Cheerliee wore that?”

“Don’t be too harsh.  I designed it, after all.”

Apple Bloom kept giggling as she moved along the walkway, trying to imagine Cheerilee as a filly.  In a froofy yellow costume.

“Recognize that one?” Rarity asked, pointing a hoof toward an organized display hanging on the rounded wall.  It featured three crudely sewn red capes, each emblazoned with a blue shield bearing a rearing yellow filly.  Above one cape hung a purple and white helmet; above another, a poster for the Sisterhooves Social; and the third…

Apple Bloom’s next breath caught in her throat.  “Is… that my bow?” she asked in a high-pitched voice.

Rarity only had to smile for Apple Bloom’s eyes to brim with tears.

“Oh my gosh,” she whispered.  “That thing is huge!  Why did I ever wear that on my tiny little head?”

“Because it was adorable!” Rarity said after a hearty laugh.  “Honestly, you three were the cutest fillies Ponyville has ever seen, nonpareil.”

She could have stared at that symbol of the Cutie Mark Crusaders for the rest of the night, but the room was so full of other nostalgic displays that she forced herself to turn away and admire the extent of Rarity’s work.

There were the Elements’ Gala dresses (both versions, though the hideous ones were tucked behind their original counterparts); there were the gem-coated costume changes for Sapphire Shores, sparkling even in the dim candlelight; there were the various Winter Wrap Up vests from every year since Rarity’s commission.

Most of the outfits, however, were ensembles that Apple Bloom didn’t recognize.  A random assortment of balloons surrounding a green gift box caught her eye, as did an insect-like get-up of purple, yellow, and pink.  Near the latter, Rarity had posted a plaque with the words “Keep Your Hooves on the Ground,” but Apple Bloom was too distracted by other unusual outfits to ask about it.

Her hooves carried her through the maze as if in a dream.  She slowly swiveled her head left and right, taking in as many of the memories as possible.  Of all the various articles, the most recurring seemed to be giant hats.  Some were tall and stiff, others colorful and floppy, and one in the least lit bend of the wall—

Apple Bloom’s heart seemed to stop with her hooves.

“Rarity,” she nearly whispered.  “Is that what I think it is?”

“Hm?”  Rarity stepped up beside Apple Bloom, following her line of vision.  “Ah!  Well, I assume so, though I’m no mind reader.  What do you think it is?”

She grinned as Apple Bloom resumed a slow, absentminded gait toward the ponnequin in question.

“I didn’t know you kept it,” she muttered.

“Just the one,” Rarity expounded, staying alongside her hypnotized companion.  “There were four of them, you know, but this is the only costume I kept.  I believe it was your sister’s.”

Apple Bloom’s tongue felt like cotton in her mouth.  Her eyes had dried and widened with every step.  Less than a ponylength from the iconic outfit, she stopped and stared in stunned silence.

“Do you remember why I made it?” Rarity asked.

Apple Bloom nodded.  “Rainbow was bein’ an idiot.”

Rarity’s laugh did nothing to crack Apple Bloom’s rapt attention.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Rarity admitted, “though I would use more descriptive terms.  Our dear Rainbow Dash, as talented and helpful as she often is, had finally let her popularity go to her head.  Her famed loyalty had repositioned itself around her want of attention, rather than the ponies she professed to be serving.

“We knew what must be done.  ‘We’ being her fellow Elements of Harmony, of course.  You see, Apple Bloom, when someone you love falls into this sort of state—be it arrogance or stubbornness, or even depression—you find yourself willing to do everything in your power to restore them back to the pony they used to be.  Sometimes, depending on the situation’s gravity, necessary actions can become quite… dramatic.”

Apple Bloom’s breath was beginning to quicken.

“Our friend had fallen to a pony’s oldest enemy: pride.  I will confess, I too have struggled with that most flattering of foes, and so I was determined with all the more fervor to snap Rainbow out of her obtrusive condition.  It was with this goal that my friends and I devised the perfect plan.  To uproot the misguided hero in Rainbow Dash’s soul, we would become her competition.  To overcome her hubris, we would become her humiliation.  To revert her negative changes, we would remind her of herself.”

She sighed.  “As you saw—as all of Ponyville saw—our plan took place with fabulous results.  We got our Rainbow back, and established a number of valuable lessons in the process.  A hero’s job is to protect, no matter what obstacles, inner or outer, she may be forced to face.”

Quite pleased with her monologue, Rarity waited for Apple Bloom to respond.  After too many seconds of silence, she turned and gasped at the tears dripping down her tensed cheeks.

“Apple Bloom, darling, are you all right?” she asked, placing a caring hoof on her shoulder.

Pulsing with purpose, Apple Bloom reached her own hoof toward the purple figure.  She lifted the broad-brimmed hat from the ponnequin and held it before her amber eyes.  The patter of raindrops against the roof became the empowering rhythm of a snare drum leading an army into battle—an army of one in the Battle for Equestria.

“Yes, Rarity,” she said in a low, even voice.  She spun the hat around her hoof and slid it carefully over her ears.  “I’m doin’… very well.”


(/\/\)


Applejack jumped as her front door slammed open.

“What in tarnation!?” she yelled through the house, thundering down the stairs to the front room.  “I realize there’s a storm a-brewin’, but that don’t give nopony an excuse to come bargin’ through my—”

She skidded to a halt at the bottom of the stairs and stared at the familiar figure looming in the doorway.

“M-M… Mare Do Well?” she stuttered.

The pony grinned behind her mask.  “Hey, Sis.  You know how you’re always tellin’ me to start wearin’ a hat?”
	
> 8 - The Key is Awareness
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


CHAPTER EIGHT
THE KEY IS AWARENESS


“Applejack, don’tcha see?  Equestria is Rainbow Dash!”

“Huh?”

“She’s lost her way!  She’s turnin’ into somethin’ she’s not!  Somepony’s gotta remind her of who she is, and I’m volunteerin’!”

“Apple Bloom, take off that silly mask.  Yer talkin’ crazy, girl…”

“I ain’t talkin’ crazy!  I’m talkin’ hope!  I’m talkin’ justice and redemption and—”

“You’re talkin’ absolute nonsense ‘cause you’ve been traumatized more than I can rightly imagine.  Now pull back that mask so I can see yer eyes.”

Surprised, Apple Bloom set the wide, purple hat on the kitchen table and slid the mask toward her shoulder blades.  “See my eyes?”

Applejack frowned.  “Eyes are the window t’the soul, sugarcube.  I wanna see what’s really botherin’ ya instead o' hearin’ ya try to talk around it.”

After a few uncertain blinks, Apple Bloom cleared her throat and tried explaining slower.

“I know I haven’t told you much about what happened in Canterlot, Sis,” she acknowledged sadly, “but that’s only ‘cause it’s hard for me to think about.  Now, I don’t know if you can imagine how bad it is over there, and I’ve heard it’s just as bad in Equestria’s other cities.  All the ponies I met at school and in town, they all seemed so hopeless.  Even Sweetie Belle had a little sadness in her all the time.  I could see it in her eyes.”

Applejack interjected a little nod as if to say “What did I tell ya?  Window to the soul.”

“Twilight doesn’t come out of her castle; some folks even blame her for all the spreadin’ crimes and violence.  I don’t know whose fault it is, but I can tell when an apple’s gone rotten, and Equestria’s headed that way.”

She couldn’t bring herself to call Equestria rotten as it was.  If she was going to go through with the plan brewing in her brain, she had to believe that her beloved country was not beyond redemption.

“Maybe all she needs to get back on track is a reminder,” Apple Bloom continued strongly.  “The Princesses stood as examples fer everypony.  Maybe all Equestria needs is another hero in Canterlot: somepony who cares about them and wants the best for them, and is willing to fight for their happiness.”

“Fight?” Applejack repeated worriedly.

“Yeah, fight!  That’s the best part!”  Apple Bloom rose on her hind legs and delivered a series of controlled kicks in the air.  “It’s like I’ve been trainin’ fer this my whole life!”

“You always were a brave little filly,” Applejack remembered, “always lookin’ to help out and solve problems.”  Her expression hardened.  “But you were also brash and made quick, stupid decisions that led you into heaps o’ trouble.”

Apple Bloom’s eyes narrowed at her sister.  “Just what are you talkin’ about?”

“Remember when you followed Zecora into the woods?”

Apple Bloom giggled in spite of herself.  “You mean when you were all tiny-like?”

“Exactly!  You were barely eight years old and off you went, trompin’ all on your own through the Everfree Forest.  Twice!  And leavin’ me, your own big sister—”

“Little sister, at the time.”

“—shrunken and helpless on the branch of tree.  What was I supposed to do if a timberwolf came by, huh?  Or a manticore?”

“We were barely a hundred trots into the forest,” Apple Bloom defended, rolling her eyes.  “You were fine!”

“And don’t think Fluttershy never told me about the time you led your friends into the forest again to find her dag-blamed chicken and nearly got turned to stone!”

“That was a long time ago, Applejack!” Apple Bloom said.  “I didn’t even have my Cutie Mark yet.  Everypony makes a stupid choice or two at that age.  Didn’t you try to move to Manehattan?”

“That’s decidedly different,” Applejack said.  “If yer anythin’ like me—and ya are—then you’ll realize, with a little coaxin’, that this grandiose idea you got stuck in your head is just a product of too little sleep and too much stress.  Tryin’ to take on the crime o’ Canterlot all on yer own with nothing but a mask and couple good kickers is nothing short of suicide, Apple Bloom.”

The younger pony threw her hooves into the ground.  “Applejack, how could you?  I knew someponies were gonna throw this in my face, but not you.  Why can’t you see this is the only way?  I don’t even feel like I’m makin’ this decision.  I feel like it’s been made for me.  I have to do this, Applejack!  I have to help, because I can!”

“Hold on there, Bloom,” Applejack said seriously, taking her sister by the shoulders.  “You told us that Harper Heartstrings was murdered in his own apartment.  Are those the kinds of ponies you wanna go up against here?  Criminals and murderers?”

Just hearing Harper’s name seemed to blow a hole through Apple Bloom’s enthusiasm.  She slumped into Applejack’s forelegs, frowning with sorrowful determination.

“It won’t be easy, Applejack.  I already know that.  This ain’t Nightmare Night or another Crusade.  It’s gonna be scary and dangerous, and I’ll have to be more careful than I’ve ever been before.  But I gotta do somethin’, because I can do something.  It’s like it’s all been set up, just waiting for me to find the startin’ line.”

She stroked the brim of the iconic hat lying on the table.

Applejack’s features began to soften.  “What in Ponyville were ya thinkin’ o’ doin’ first?” she asked.

“I have to learn about the underworld,” Apple Bloom answered, straightened up and massaging her cheeks with the flats of her hooves.

“The what?”

“The underworld.  The gangs and criminals in Canterlot.  I have to find out where they are and what they’re doin’ and how to stop ‘em.”

Applejack guffawed.  “How?”

“I’ll start with the gang that… that killed Harper.”  She winced and sat up straight, staring at the ceiling with fiery eyes.  “He told us all the stallions who attacked him in the alleyway had creepy Cutie Marks, like they’d been tampered with.  I bet that means they’re all part o’ the same gang.  With a little diggin’, I’m sure I can track ‘em down.”

“You’re insane!” Applejack suddenly yelled, all the panic returning to her eyes.  Apple Bloom leaned away from her volume.  “You’re actually… thinkin’ this through?  Do you really think you can just saddle up and dosey-doe back into town, Apple Bloom?  You think they’ll let you go right back to school after missin’ two weeks and introduce you to the Creepy Cutie Mark Club?”

Apple Bloom groaned.  “No, Applejack, o’ course not!  I’d stay hidden during the day: researchin’, plannin’, doin’ all I can to get my head around the inner workings o’ Canterlot—”

“You’ve gotta be…” Applejack turned from her sister and ran a hoof down her face.

“—and at night I’ll put the costume on and teach ‘em all a lesson.  I’ll strike fear in the hearts of the criminals and plant hope in the hearts of Equestrians—”

“Oh, yeah, and you sure as Tartarus ain’t gonna get caught up in the drama of it all,” Applejack taunted her.  “It’s not like you’ve always had a hankerin’ fer adventure or nothin’.  It’ll all be for the ponies who need yer help.”

Apple Bloom’s face grew hard and sure.  “Yes, in fact, it will be fer them, Sis.  I still have a couple things to do here in Ponyville… just in case I… never come back.”  She shook her head clear and snorted resolutely.  “But whether or not you—my own sister—supports me in doin’ what I know is the right thing to do, I’m makin’ my way back to Canterlot and I’ll be focused as a lasso.  I ain’t doin’ this for the thrill, I’m doin’ it fer Canterlot.  I’m doin’ it fer Equestria.  I’m doin’ it for all the ponies I love… you, and Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle… and Harper…”  She drifted off, flicking away a warm tear.

Applejack’s jaw stuck out defiantly.  “You just don’t get it, Apple Bloom,” she breathed.  “You really think you can even dent what’s happened in Canterlot?  You think there’s any way to get it back under control?”  She leaned in closer, making Apple Bloom flatten her ears.  “How could you make Canterlot a better place if Twilight Sparkle can’t?”

Apple Bloom’s brow creased.  “What?”

“I don’t know what’s happened to her,” Applejack said, pursing her lips, “but I have a feelin’ she’s sufferin’ just as much as anypony else.  You knew Twilight, Apple Bloom.  You know how organized she is and how she takes care of every little detail just so.”  She sighed and tucked a strand of Apple Bloom’s brilliant red mane behind her ear.  “What could you do that Twilight hasn’t surely tried?”

“You’ve got it all wrong, Applejack,” she said, swatting her sister’s hoof away.  “Twilight’s not doin’ anything.  That’s why all this is happenin'.  She just locked herself in the castle and stopped… stopped lovin’ anypony.  I have no doubt that Canterlot would be just fine in the hooves of the Twilight we knew and loved, but that big winged monster—”  She pointed emphatically in Canterlot’s direction.  “—is not Twilight Sparkle.  She ain’t no egghead librarian with a cute grin, Applejack.  She’s the Princess of the Dusk, and she’s ruinin' Equestria.”

Applejack’s head was bowed, her eyes closed tightly.  Apple Bloom breathed harshly through her nose, waiting for another rebuttal from her sister.

“Get out,” Applejack finally said.

Apple Bloom reeled.  “What?”

“Get out.”  Applejack snarled and stomped her front hooves.  “You say Twilight ain’t my friend anymore?  That she’s not the Element of Magic?  Well then, if ponies can suddenly change so much…”  Her snout crinkled.  “Then you must not be my sister no more.”

“Excuuuse me?” Apple Bloom asked, lowering her brow.

“You get outta my house and offa my land,” Applejack said.  “And take yer stupid costume with ya.”  She grabbed the hat from the table and threw it in Apple Bloom’s face.  “Do whatever ya want, Bloom.  Go and get yerself killed crusadin’ in Canterlot.  But I ain’t lettin’ my hooves have any part of your dangerous mistakes.”  She looked away and added quietly, “Not this time.”

Apple Bloom’s jaw hung open.  “This time?” she squeaked.  “How dare you?”

Applejack ground her teeth.  “Get out, Bloom, before I say somethin’ else I’ll regret.”

“How dare you!?”  Apple Bloom bent down, trying to look her sister in the eyes.  “Did you really just bring that up?”

“Bloom…”

“That was not my fault, Applejack!” she wailed, nearing hysteria.  “That was… oh, Celestia!  You know that was an accident!”

“Get outta here, Bloom!” Applejack thundered for the last time, ramming into her sister’s chest with her Stetson-topped head and pushing her toward the door.  “Go on, git!”

Apple Bloom shouted angrily and turned around, bolting for the front porch.  Without so much a glance over her shoulder, she bit the wide-brimmed, purple hat in her teeth and galloped away from Applejack’s homestead, far from Sweet Apple Acres.  It didn’t look quite as beautiful anymore, even in the glowing Moonlight.  Apple Bloom looked up at the night’s glowing orb with teary, narrowed eyes, hating the Alicorn who lifted it and crying for those on its surface.

It was a bitter huff that accompanied Apple Bloom’s eventual deceleration.  She found that, in her confusion and anger, she had absentmindedly run into the Everfree Forest.  The irony of her subconscious direction in light of her sister’s accusations left a bitter taste in her mouth as she trudged on, steadying her breath and trying to sort out what had just happened.

Applejack had always been a stubborn pony.  It was a trait that all the mares in the Apple family inherited.  But there was a big difference between stubbornness and head-butting somepony out of your house.  Was her plan really that frustrating?  Was she being that blind to its possible danger?

Apple Bloom clenched her teeth and snorted.  No; she wasn’t blind.  Ponyville was blind—deliberately so—to the gut-wrenching horrors that took place just up the train tracks.  Applejack had no idea what it was like to lose a dear friend under such bizarre circumstances…

Sighing, Apple Bloom took back her last thought.  Of course her sister knew the pain of loss, far deeper than Apple Bloom could even imagine.

“She’s worried about me, is all,” Apple Bloom decided aloud, kicking pebbles with one forehoof while she repositioned her hat with the other, resting it over her ears.  “She doesn’t wanna see me disappear like everypony else she loved.”

Apple Bloom’s cheeks scrunched up.  She sighed and kicked the next pebble harder.  It was deeper in the cold dirt road than she expected and sent a stab of pain through her costume-shod hoof.  Her yelp reverberated off the buildings around her, and only then did Apple Bloom take notice of the area.  She stood among the many houses crammed outside the Town Hall's plaza.  She had never liked this neighborhood, accustomed to open spaces.

Surprised at how far she'd already walked, it took Apple Bloom a moment to recognize the house on the corner.  A tiny gasp pulled in her nostrils.  She glanced up at the starry sky, clear of recent rainclouds, and wondered at the hour.  Was it too late for an unannounced visit?  Was she even in the right frame of mind for something so serious?

Regardless, she found herself standing at the front door.  She knocked.  A breezy silence passed beneath the Moon.  She was patient for several minutes, then knocked a bit harder.  Suddenly the door cracked open.  A single golden eye peered on the costumed pony.

“L-Lyra?” Apple Bloom stuttered.  “Er, I mean… Miss Heartstrings?”  A scratchy lump gathered in the farmpony’s throat.  “Sorry t'bother you so late, but... can I... that is... can I come in?”

The mare couldn’t reply.  Apple Bloom noticed a stream of tears glisten in the Moonlight.  Her heart racing, Apple Bloom began to back away.

“I'm sorry, Miss Hearstrings,” Apple Bloom muttered, unsure of what to say or how to help.

She shook her head and took two deep breaths.  “No, Apple Bloom.  I’m sorry.”

Apple Bloom stopped her retreat as the door swung open in Lyra's golden magic.  Lyra herself disappeared into the house, but the invitation was clear.  Apple Bloom made a controlled, quick sigh and trotted in.  “It’s all right, Miss Heartstrings.  Thanks for lettin' me in.  I shoulda waited 'til tomorrow, but—”

“No, Apple Bloom,” Lyra said from another room.  “You're very timely.  I was just thinking about you.”

The moment hit her hard, and Apple Bloom's knees began to wobble.  She shut the door and hurried to steady herself on the front room's couch. The coffee table was covered in sheet music and an open flute box.	

Lyra came back into the room with two steaming cups.  She used her magic to ignite an overhead light, which burned enough to illuminate the room quite nicely compared to the night's natural glow.  As Apple Bloom got her first good look at Lyra in several years, she remembered that the musician was about as old as Applejack and the other Elements of Harmony, but she didn’t look it.  She looked older.  Apple Bloom could only guess at the scope of her sorrows.

“Oh, gosh, Miss Heartstrings,” Apple Bloom chuckled.  "Y'don't have to be bringin' me tea."

Lyra finished her trot and hoofed forth a cup, smiling despite the leak at the corners of her eyes.  "It's cold outside, and I was already making it.  It's my favorite.  Ginger and cinnamon."  She took a sip of her own and sighed.  "Goes well with apples."

Something broke in the unicorn's resolve.  Her neck tensed up and her cheeks tightened.  Apple Bloom noticed it instantly and set the cup she had just taken by the flute box.

"I'm here, Miss Heartstrings," Apple Bloom said, reaching out a foreleg.  Suddenly Lyra collapsed into Apple Bloom’s open gesture and wept into the purple fabric hugging her young coat.  Surprised and embarrassed, Apple Bloom did her best to stand her ground and comfort the mare, even if every stroke through her laurel-green-and-white mane sent dark shivers of guilt through her entire body.

“I-I’m sorry, Apple Bloom,” Lyra choked, rubbing her snout into the farmpony’s shoulder.

Apple Bloom bit her lip.  “Sorry fer what, Miss Heartstrings?”

“Well… for a lot of things,” she admitted with a painful bark of a laugh.  “I’m sorry for this, first of all.  You hardly know me and… and to just…”

“That’s fine, Miss Heartstrings, really,” Apple Bloom said with as much sincerity as she could muster.  “I’d do the same, I’m sure of it.”

Sniffing loudly, Lyra continued, “I’m especially sorry for…”  She gasped.  “For what happened to… Harper…”

“Oh, Miss Heartstrings!” Apple Bloom practically wailed, feeling tears brim her own eyes.  “Why would you be sorry about that?  I’m the one who oughtta be sorry to you.  It—it was all my fault!”

Lyra stepped back and stared into Apple Bloom’s eyes.  “What?  No!  Don’t you say that, Apple Bloom!  Is that really what you believe?”

Their roles seemed to reverse as a mess of cruel thoughts and emotions bubbled up in Apple Bloom at once.

“I-I told him to… to try out for the drum line,” she remembered miserably.  “That’s what got him beat up in the first place.  Then I had the gall to tell authorities about the attack, and… and that just invited the wrath of whatever gang had messed with him in the first place!”  Apple Bloom closed her eyes tightly, pushing a line of tears from their corners.  “It was my fault, Miss Heartstrings.  If it weren’t for me, your sweet, sweet son would still be alive.”

Lyra stomped a hoof.  The music on the table shifted.  “Do not say that again, Apple Bloom.  Never.  Do you hear me?”  With sudden seriousness as hard as a diamond, Lyra used her magic to redirect Apple Bloom’s gaze.  Their eyes, amber and golden, met once more.  “You are not responsible for the death of my son.  I don’t know much of the details, I’ll admit, but just the way you’re talking about him… I can tell that you loved him.  Anything you did, you did to make him happy.  You did to make him feel safe.  Is that right?”

She shook Apple Bloom’s face a bit with her magic, prompting the earth pony to nod.

“Of course it is.  You would never do anything to hurt him, and you and I are both very aware of that.  The monsters who—”  She gulped away another wave of tears.  “—who murdered my son, they’re the ones to blame.  It’s their fault he is gone, and none of yours.  Do you understand me?”

Her gaze hardened.  She did not release her glowing grip on Apple Bloom’s face until the filly nodded again.  After a heavy sigh, Lyra turned her magic to the sheets of music on the short table.  They lifted and spun, organizing themselves into a neat pile.  Taking them reverently into her forehooves, a breathy chuckle left Lyra's body as her eyes scanned the first notes.

“He would have loved this song,” she said in a warm, distant voice.

Apple Bloom used the edge of her hoof to brush some of her tears away before asking, “Did you write it?”

“Mmmhmm.”  Lyra rested her chin on top of the pages.  “A long time ago.  I wrote it for him.”

Apple Bloom blinked.  “And he... never heard it?"

"I never showed it to him," Lyra said.  "I was going to wait until he got married."

An especially cold lump lodged under Apple Bloom's jaw.  "That's... sweet," she managed to say.  She cleared her throat.  "I sure like yer music, Miss Heartstrings.  I don't know if I ever toldja to yer face, 'cause I was tryin' to be cool with Scootaloo, but I loved every concert o' yers the Cutie Mark Crusaders ever came to."

"Oh, yes," Lyra breathed.  A smile played around the words.  "Your little group came often.  Sweetie Belle once told me she had to force you.  Ha!"  The tears finally stopped.  “The Cutie Mark Crusaders,” she repeated with a chuckle.  “What happened to you three?  Do you still keep in touch?”

Apple Bloom’s shoulders sagged a little.  “We get along fine.  Sweetie Belle’s in—”

“Canterlot,” Lyra interrupted, nodding.  “I know that.  And Scootaloo?”

Apple Bloom gave her a quizzical look.  “You do live here in Ponyville, right, Miss Heartstrings?”

Lyra’s ears folded down.  “Heh.  I, uh… I don’t get out much.  Should I already know what Scootaloo does?”

“She took over Rainbow Dash’s job years ago,” Apple Bloom explained, “as chief weather flier.  I feel a little bad sayin’ this, but I didn’t even know you knew the Cutie Mark Crusaders.”

“You came to my concerts.”

“Well, sure, but so did a whole lotta other ponies.”

“Heheh.  I suppose you’re right.”  She looked out the window at nothing and shivered.

Apple Bloom eyed her body.  "I know Winter's all wrapped up, Miss Heartstrings, but don't you think you oughtta wear a coat or somethin'?  Even indoors, it gets chilly."

Lyra squinted at her.  "I'm not a big fan of outerwear," she said.  "No offense... heheh."  She tousled the dark blue mask bunched up behind Apple Bloom’s neck and flicked the rim of her giant purple hat.  Apple Bloom snorted and pulled the hat off, setting it on the ground beside the table.

“If I'm too bare, you're overdressed," Lyra continued.  "What's with the get up?"

Apple Bloom cleared her throat again.  "It’s, uh… part of an idea I have."

“An idea for next Nightmare Night?”

Apple Bloom was relieved with Lyra’s attitude.  Even in light of recent tragedies, she remained bright and reverently cheerful.  Apple Bloom wondered what Harper had meant by his mother suffering from bouts of depression.  She couldn’t imagine lively old Lyra ever giving up.

“Not exactly,” Apple Bloom answered, playing with one of the long purple collars arching above her back.

Lyra raised her eyebrows.  “Well, then?”

“You don’t wanna hear it,” Apple Bloom said, turning away.

“I promise I do,” Lyra said.  “Believe me, I’m a very good listener.”


(/\/\)


The iron bars slid away.  “You’re free to go,” an armored guard grumbled.  Foaly Edge looked up from his hard, smelly bed bathed in pale Moonlight.

“Huh?”

“Your bail’s been posted,” the guard continued without looking Edge in the eyes.  “You’re free to go.”

Foaly Edge should have been excited at the news.  Instead, he gulped and slid onto his hooves, trotting sullenly past the pair of guards that were holding his cell doors open.  The rest of the jail passed by in a blur and suddenly he was standing in its lobby, staring at the inside of the building’s entrance.

“This is gonna be a long night,” he prophesied, pensively moving forward. 


(/\/\)


“I wanna make a change,” Apple Bloom said.  “I wanna give the ponies of Canterlot—of Equestria—somepony to look up to.  Something to hope for.”

“That is a noble and wise desire, Apple Bloom,” Lyra said, nodding.  “My only concern comes from your motivations.”

Apple Bloom groaned.  “That’s what Applejack said.  Look, Miss Hearstrings, I’m not doin’ this fer myself.  I’m not doin’ it to avenge Harper or nothin’—”

“Exactly.”

“…huh?”

“What are your goals, Apple Bloom?  Why do you want to make a change?”

Apple Bloom blinked.  “Because there needs to be one!  Because everything’s goin’ to Tartarus and I have the means to help ponies…” She stopped when she noticed Lyra shaking her head.  

“Not good enough,” the older mare said.  “Try again.”


(/\/\)


As Foaly Edge trotted down the Moonlit city streets of a crumbling Canterlot, he was suddenly flanked on both sides by stallions almost as large as him.

“Where are we going?” he asked them quietly.

“Base Eight,” said the maroon stallion at his left in a raspy voice.

“Whoa.  What’s this meeting about, anyway?”

“It’s held in Base Eight and you think we’re gonna talk about it here?”

Edge growled.  “It was rhetorical.”

“No it wasn’t.”

“Shut up.”

They turned a corner in perfect unison and glanced around for guards.  None were in sight, but they picked up their pace all the same.


(/\/\)


“I… I…”

“You mentioned that Equestria is like Rainbow Dash,” Lyra said, squinting at Apple Bloom.  “How did you mean that?”

Apple Bloom coughed out a perplexed laugh.  “I-I dunno!  The Elements o’ Harmony invented Mare Do Well to show Dash how cocky and annoyin’ she was bein’—”

“And did it help?”

“Yeah!  She went right back to her normal, little-less-cocky self—”

“Right back?”

Apple Bloom paused.  “Huh?”

“She went right back to how she used to be?  She changed immediately?  She fell to her knees and thanked her friends for teaching her such a valuable lesson?”

“Uh… well… no, that’s not how I remember it.”  Apple Bloom pawed at the floor.  “In fact, when Applejack told the story to Granny, she mentioned that she thought they mighta kinda missed the point…”

Lyra smirked.  “Oh?  How’s that?”

“Well… the way she saw it, things mighta gone a lot quicker if the girls told Rainbow the secret behind Mare Do Well after she got a taste of her own medicine.  The way they left it up in the air and stayed behind the mask just made Rainbow mad at herself, until the truth finally came around.”

With a steady hoof, Lyra pointed at Apple Bloom’s snout.  “Not just quicker, Apple Bloom.  Rainbow Dash nearly learned the wrong lesson.  If Mare Do Well had gone unmasked, our brash friend may have given up entirely.  Until the girls revealed their plan, Rainbow Dash was simply under the impression that a new hero was spitefully stealing her well-deserved spotlight.  It was not until the delayed reveal that she became aware of her obnoxiousness.”

Apple Bloom’s brow creased.  “What are ya sayin’?”

“I’m saying that it all comes down to awareness,” Lyra began.


(/\/\)


Foaly Edge stopped in his tracks.  “What was that?” he asked, peeking over his shoulder.

His companions turned their heads around.  “What?  What’dja hear?”

All three were silent, their ears pricked high and twitching in all directions.

“Come on, Edge, what’dja hear?” the maroon stallion asked.

“You guys didn’t hear that?” Foaly Edge asked, bouncing his emerald eyes from alleyway to pitch black alleyway branching from the blue-lit road behind them.

“No, I didn’t hear nothin’,” his raspy comrade drawled, “and if we don’t get to Base Eight in five minutes, the boss is gonna regret posting your bail after just one week.”

Edge gulped and nodded, trotting briskly between the other ponies and toward the rising Moon.


(/\/\)


“When Bon Bon first learned she had cancer, she didn’t tell me.  She didn’t tell anypony.  She decided to continue living exactly as she had before the news.  But even while she went through all the motions as if unaffected by the disease, her mind and attitude were fundamentally changed.  She began acting as if everything we did was very urgent, to the point of becoming snappy and agitated when I got sidetracked by… well, by anything.

“In turn, I began to be frustrated with her.  Our relationship began to stiffen and stale, an all-too-familiar experience for me.  I didn’t want to see Bon Bon in the same light as my ex-husband, so I confronted her about the issue.  I told her how I was feeling and asked for a reason behind her shift in attitude.  After some coaxing, she revealed to me her diagnosis.  I later learned from Nurse Redheart that she had been carrying the secret for nearly six months.

“I had a hard time trusting Bon Bon after that, up until the day she passed away.  I wanted to believe every word she said, but part of me was always worried that she was hiding something.  Had she been honest with me from the start, that would have never been an issue.

“Compare that to Rainbow Dash’s experience with Mare Do Well.  Had her friends been honest with her near the beginning of their deceit, just as Rainbow Dash tasted the bitterness of another pony’s senselessly excessive fame, their intended lesson would have manifested itself quicker and clearer: that while celebrating accomplishments is natural, rubbing them in others’ faces is not.  Instead, they let Rainbow Dash suffer under Mare Do Well’s rise, twisting the knife while she learned nothing.”

Apple Bloom blinked.  “B-but then… how does that tie into Canterlot?”

Lyra smiled.  “Do you remember what I asked you, Apple Bloom?”

“About my motivations?”

Lyra nodded.  Apple Bloom bit her lip.

“Uh… well, I s’pose my motivation is to… to make Equestria aware of the terrible things that are happenin’ under its snout.  And to put a stop to it.”

“What terrible things?”

“Well… the gangs, I guess.  At school I heard about thievery and muggin’ in the streets…”

“What terrible things have you seen?”

The sharpness in Lyra’s voice sent a shiver down Apple Bloom’s spine.  She swallowed hard and made herself say, “I saw your son beaten half to death and… and drowned in his own kitchen sink.”  Her tongue felt very large and dry.  “Oh, Miss Heartstrings… I saw murder.  Senseless murder for no good reason.”

Lyra stepped forward.  “And how does it make you feel?”

Apple Bloom’s heart skipped a beat.  “Er… a-awful!” she stammered.  “I… I hate it!  It makes me so… so sad, and so angry!  How dare they?  What were they thinkin’?  What gave them the idea that killin’ such an innocent pony was okay?”

“You’re angry?”

“I’m angry!”  Apple Bloom gnashed her teeth and began trotting back and forth inside the hut.  “I wanna… I wanna see ‘em brought to justice.”  She growled and said, “But the Canterlot Guards don’t do a thing!  They don’t help anypony, even when they’re screamin’ for their lives!”

Lyra was nodding.  “What does that make you want to do?”

“Change things!” Apple Bloom yelled.  “Fix somethin’!  Go back there and find those dirty creeps and teach ‘em a lesson those Celestia-forsaken guards couldn’t imagine in a thousand years!”

“Yes!”  Lyra stomped a hoof and grinned below misty eyes.  “Yes, there is your motivation.  It’s not enough to want to help ponies, Apple Bloom.  There have been millions of souls who have wanted to help ponies, and thousands who had the opportunity.  But there are very few—and you have become one of them—who are given the proper motivation.  You’ve been hurt by this, Apple Bloom.”  She had to blink away a film of tears before adding, “We’ve been very hurt by all of this.  They killed your friend.  They killed my son.  And we are not the kinds of ponies to let that go ignored.”


(/\/\)


“Zap Apple Jam,” the maroon pony whispered into a slot on the doorway.  The trio waited as a series of locks were unlatched from the other side.

“Mmm… Zap Apple Jam,” the white pegasus on Foaly Edge’s other side drooled.  “I remember that stuff.  Hey, remember when they used to sell that in Canterlot?  We must have been, what, eight years old?  Ten?”

“Shut up, Topper,” the maroon earth pony growled.  Foaly Edge couldn’t help but imagine the sweet taste of Zap Apple Jam as the metal door to Base Eight opened and the three of them cantered in.  A black coated, sickly thin pegasus greeted them with an icy stare and locked the door behind them as they sauntered warily down the long hallway.  

Foaly Edge had never been inside Base Eight, but he knew what kinds of meetings were held there.  The deeper they traveled into the isolated building, the noisier the frigid air became.  The raucous sounds of savage ponies lit his apprehension on fire, and by the time the jet-black pegasus swooped over their heads to open another door, his innards felt roasted.

Beyond the second door was a huge, dimly lit room full of bulky, rowdy ponies adorned with tarnished Cutie Marks.  They fought and screamed and argued with each other with no apparent rhyme or reason until the skeletal pegasus in front of Foaly Edge took to the air.  He hovered wordlessly above the throngs until every silenced eye was turned to him.  With their rapt attention, the pegasus shook his head.  Groups of grumbling ponies with bruises and bite marks broke up and diffused among the entire, spacious floor.  Edge estimated there were at least a hundred and fifty ponies in attendance.

Satisfied, the black pegasus flew to a balcony carved into the middle of the opposite wall from Foaly Edge.  His flanking companions prodded him forward and he joined the gathered mass, looking up with them at the balcony where the imposing stallion was knocking on the wall.  The door behind them remained open.


(/\/\)


“But Mare Do Well won’t work!” Apple Bloom wailed.  “You just finished tellin’ me how it almost ruined Rainbow Dash…”

“The plan was poorly executed,” Lyra explained.  “As I said, the key is awareness.  If you’re going to use a mask to attack the crime in Canterlot, you had better make sure they know exactly why they’re being punished.  None of this mysterious nonsense.  You have to use as many words as you do punches.”

Apple Bloom nodded, wringing her hat between her hooves.

“If Equestria is Rainbow Dash, then she ought to be told to her face that she has a problem.  She ought to know from the very beginning that her present state is nowhere near her potential.  And you must be the one to tell her, because she will respect you.”

“How?” Apple Bloom asked, though it came out as a whisper.

Lyra sighed.  “Oh, Apple Bloom.  You know how.”





(/\/\)





A hidden door behind the balcony glowed with unicorn magic and slid up into the wall.  From the dark cavity it left behind, a figure shrouded by a thick black cloak stepped onto the balcony and took his place beside the emaciated pegasus watching over the sea of ponies below with a pair of shockingly pale blue eyes.

“Mares and stallions!” the hooded figure bellowed over the crowd of cretins bearing corrupted Cutie Marks.  “It is not often we gather here, together as a single body, and I will waste none of your time.”

Foaly Edge stood far from the balcony, watching the elusive leader of his gang address the entirety of its membership.

“As you all should be aware, there was recently a dangerous breach to our establishment.  Due to the unfathomably stupid and selfish actions of a faction of our newest brothers, some of our operations were investigated and made public by the likes of the Canterlot Sun!”

He let the declaration echo over all their heads.  Foaly Edge was already beginning to sweat.

“A student at the Canterlot School of Art was harshly beaten by some of our own.  His story was publicized, leading to the public arrest of the attack’s leading stallion.  The few detectives left in this city flocked to the case like a life source.  We lost two of our most valuable drop-off points to their snooping, an accumulated loss of over eight hundred bits a week.”  He snarled briefly before going on.  “They have a deeper understanding of our inner workings than ever before.  And don’t you dare roll your eyes at this; the government may not be much of a threat to us now, but do not forget the advantages a rival may take from our exposure.”

An anxious murmur rippled through the crowd.  Foaly Edge was backing up, glancing at the open door leading to the hallway.

“The Mangled Marks own more than half of Canterlot’s underground industries,” their leader thundered, “but that number will not rise—in fact, it will fall—if our rivals gain power from our mistakes.”  Another thought seemed to strike him and he lifted a hoof.  “Or even if they think they have gained power when we show signs of weakness!  We cannot afford any notions of instability!”

Several riled ponies shouted their approval.  Foaly Edge turned to run.

“The student was killed as an example to citizens, officers, and rivals alike: the Mangled Marks are not to be tested.  But while the spilling of such innocent blood may keep those outside our circle at bay, we must also remind our own members that we do not take such devastating mistakes lightly.”

Before Edge could reach the door, the spider-like, impossibly black pegasus slammed into the ground and blocked his path.  With a yelp, the brown earth pony tried to turn away, slipping on his hooves and landing hard on his side.  Several heads turned from the audience and began to laugh at his misfortune.

“This is the offender,” the cloaked one introduced from above.  “This is your offender.  This is my offender.  His selfish actions led to the biggest blow the Mangled Marks have suffered in three years.  So I implore all those who are yet loyal to the sanctity of our operations… to make him suffer in return.”

The sounds that spread among the gathered were sinister enough to bring an angel to its knees.  But there were no angels in Base Eight; only a self-righteous dictator, a skeletal demon, one hundred and fifty monsters bearing mutilated flanks and minds, one cowering earth pony destined to pay for his pride… and one vigilante, driven by righteous anger, whose unexpected kick slammed the snout of the tall black pegasus guarding the exit into the floor.

The caped pony stood tall in the doorway, gazing at its first victim from behind a concealing mask.  As all eyes turned to ogle it, one hoof wrapped in dark blue bands was lifted to the brim of its angular hat.  With a modest tip toward its fallen prey, it spoke with a gravelly voice and a distinctly Trottingham accent before offensively facing its frozen audience.

“Get well soon.”
	
> 9 - To Begin a Revolution
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


CHAPTER NINE
TO BEGIN A REVOLUTION



“Holy canoli, that’s a lot of ponies,” Lyra Heartstrings mumbled, cringing.  Her tight-shut lids rippled with the shifting of her golden eyes behind them.  “Are you sure about this, Bloom?” she said to her empty room.

Many miles away, crouched in a ready position, Apple Bloom dared not answer.  She swept her hidden, amber eyes over the crowd once more.  The enchantments Lyra had placed on her mask scattered the enormous chamber’s darkness, allowing her to see every nervous twitch of her hundred and fifty opponents.

“What is the meaning of this?” the cloaked unicorn shouted from the balcony above.  “Do you realize what you’ve just done?”

Apple Bloom tilted her head toward him, keeping the rest of her body still.  “I began,” she growled in a practiced voice.

“Not only are you trespassing, but by injuring one of our most esteemed brethren,” the stallion called down, “you have invoked the ire of the entire Mangled Marks.  You shall not live to see beyond these walls.”

His followers drew courage from that, rolling their shoulders and zoning in on Apple Bloom’s mask.  Beneath it, she grit her chattering teeth.

“Apple Bloom, listen to me,” Lyra Heartstrings said from her Ponyvillean home.  “Don’t be afraid.  Remember the plan.  We both know you can do this.”

“I ain’t afraid,” Apple Bloom hissed, barely loud enough to reach her own ears.  “I’m angry.”

Lyra smiled and tucked her forelegs closer to her hammering heart.

“Well?” the vigilante growled.  “What are you all waiting for?”

With a collective roar, the army rushed at the costumed mare.  They lowered their heads to ram her into the ground; she didn’t move an inch.  The gap between them grew smaller and smaller.  The fallen ponies at Apple Bloom’s hooves, brown and black, were the focus of her unseen gaze.

When the fastest stallion was only a bound away from Apple Bloom’s snout, she sunk to the floor with a snap of her hooves and snatched the unconscious black pegasus from his slump.  Spinning on powerful hind legs, the farmpony swung the skeletal stallion like a bat and slammed his limp legs into the incomer’s torso.  Releasing her impromptu weapon, both of the stallions’ bodies flew at the raging crowd, knocking at least four more off balance and creating an effective barrier.  The charging group behind the crash had no chance to dodge it, contributing to the growing pile with their yelping figures.

The far ends of the army were unaffected, flowing around the obstruction to zero in on Apple Bloom.  She exhaled sharply and leapt at one, pounding his blue snout with her right forehoof.  As his face broke under her punch, she wrapped the other leg around his neck and spun him to the ground.  Using his ribs as a trampoline, Apple Bloom leapt above the heads of even the tallest stallions.  Just as she hoped, some of the pegasi took to the air and rocketed toward her.

Apple Bloom grabbed a corner of her cape and yanked it as hard as she could.  The momentum carried her into a spin and, extending her hooves at her side, she managed to hit three of the pegasi away.  Completing her turn, she locked eyes with a fourth pegasus (though he would never know it) and readied herself in midair, lifting a straightened leg above her head.  Grunting with effort, she brought the hoof down on the crown of the pony’s skull, forcing his head—and his trajectory—to the floor.  Latching onto his shoulders, Apple Bloom mounted the back of the dizzy stallion, pulling on his ears to reverse their dive.  Whinnying with pain, the pegasus complied, flapping hard to carry himself and Apple Bloom toward the balcony.

The robed leader panicked, backing into the wall’s dark cavity and slamming the doors shut with his magic.  Apple Bloom smirked successfully and turned her ride around, narrowly avoiding two more pegasi hot on her trail.  She sucked a deep breath through her nostrils, taking note of every immediate detail, and leapt into action.  Standing on her hind hooves, she balanced on the stallion’s back and focused on one of her would-be-apprehenders, noticing a healing wound on the joint of the white steed’s wing.

Lyra saw it, too, practically leaping from her bed.  “There!  There!  The scab on his wing!”

“Got it,” Apple Bloom growled, throwing herself from one pegasus to tackle another midflight.  She punched his exposed scab twice, eliciting howls from her crippled victim, and pushed off from his side to throttle the third winged stallion.

To her surprise, it was a thickly built mare who appeared in her amplified vision.  The flying pony scowled and opened her wings wider, whisking herself away from Apple Bloom’s course.  

It was only then that she finally looked down.  Her stomach flipped at her helpless height, more than thirty feet above the scrambling gang.

“Uh oh,” Lyra whimpered into her hooves.

Apple Bloom swallowed and reached back again, gripping both corners of her billowing cape with her tightly wrapped hooves.  The durable cloth inflated like a parachute as Apple Bloom descended; not enough to slow her fall, but plenty to direct it.

She scanned the room with a jerk of her neck.  Were there really so few pegasi among this gang?  It made sense: throughout its history, Canterlot’s population had never broken fifteen percent pegasi.  Praying for luck, she focused on her dive.

“Look out!” a muscular earth pony squealed to his companions.  The fear in his voice—and, as she dropped further, the fear in his eyes—electrified Apple Bloom’s resolve all the more.

“Target him,” Lyra said, wringing her hooves.  “Show them all how right he is to be afraid.”

Snarling under her mask, Apple Bloom tugged on the end of her cape and swooped at the forest-green pony.  He shrieked and turned to gallop away, bringing a leer to Apple Bloom’s face.  Too many of his comrades blocked his path; he threw his gaze over his shoulder, shrunken pupils trembling.  “No!” he screamed, tossing smaller stallions out of his way.  “No, no, please!”

Apple Bloom swung her hind legs forward at the last second, bucking the terrified stallion in the rear below his slate grey tail.  His cracking shrieks accompanied his green furred body as they sailed together through the air and into the far wall, crunching against its metal surface and drawing at least fifty frightened eyes.

“Ouch!” Lyra cheered.  Clearing her throat, she added, “You okay, Bloom?”

The farmpony back-flipped from the point of impact, landing in the center of six wincing stallions.  She shook out her back legs experimentally and, finding them unharmed, grinned once more beneath her mask.

“Never better,” she answered, springing into a number of blurred jabs and kicks that quickly brought four of the six to their knees.  One turned to run; the other pounced at Apple Bloom from behind.  She dragged herself forward just enough to get a good grip on the floor with her forehooves.  Kicking her hind legs high and to the left, she squeezed the muscles in her chest and abdomen, swinging her own back half into the pouncing stallion’s neck.  He gasped and catapulted, landing directly on top of the runner.  Both of them crumpled to silence.

Satisfied, Apple Bloom spun around, ready for her next attacker.  Her scrunched up tail twitched beneath the purple suit as she looked from one horrified face to the next.  Despite having taken out less than a tenth of their numbers, the Mangled Marks were momentarily frozen with shock.  None of them dared attack her or even approach her, allowing her to realize how winded she was.

“All right, that’s enough,” Lyra said, running her hooves over the top of her mane.  “Time to get out of there.”

The panting pony nodded, straightened up to her full height, and stared down the closest gang member.  Applejack had always been jealous of Apple Bloom’s build: she was taller than her older sister, closer to her brother’s height, but had a lean muscle tone that made her “prettier ‘n’a sapling at the dawn o’ Spring.”

“This one’s for you, Sis,” she whispered so quietly not even Lyra could hear.

Bolting forward without warning, Apple Bloom lined herself up just right and delivered a good old-fashioned buck to the frozen steed.  His sternum cracked under the stress and sent the rest of him plowing backward into a huddled group.  As the vigilante hoped, the action spurred another wave of chaotic scrambling.  Using the dimness to her advantage, she snaked between wildly thrashing stallions back to the chamber’s entrance, pausing once or twice to swat away a brash opponent.  She hurried past the spidery black pegasus, still lying where he fell, and slammed the door to the hallway shut behind her.

“Use the—” Lyra started.

“Got it.”  Apple Bloom reached beneath her cape and pulled a pulsing blue stone, half the size of an apple, from the stealthy pouch on her back.  “I still can’t hardly believe a bunch o’ rocks can be enchanted with magic like this.”

“You’d be surprised at what can be enchanted,” Lyra said.

Apple Bloom smashed the obsidian gem into the center of the door.  The spell unleashed and spread its blue aura like a viscous liquid, covering the door and much of the wall around it.  Pounding erupted from the other side, but the magic did its job, holding the barrier in place as Apple Bloom galloped down the hall to another open doorway leading back to the Moonlit alley.

“Where did he go?” she asked Lyra, disguising her voice.

“Let me check.”  The mare in her house slid off her bed and clenched her teeth, forcing her horn to glow even brighter.

In Canterlot, Apple Bloom shivered as a barely detectable pulse burst from her hat.

Seconds later, Lyra shouted, “Ha!  He’s barely two blocks away!  He must not have started running until after you hit that big green guy.”

“He musta been enjoyin' the show,” Apple Bloom muttered, hurdling over debris in the alley and following the magical tug of her hat.

It took less than a minute to find him; his hoofsteps were hard on the cracked sidewalks and echoed whenever he passed a dark alley.  Apple Bloom slowed her own pace and stayed behind him the shadows, appreciating the fabric wrapped around her hooves for more than just their aesthetic appeal.  She made next to zero noise, even as her pointed collar bent in the late night breeze.


(/\/\)


Foaly Edge shivered as the wind whipped at his orange mane.  He dared not glance over his shoulder, relying on his ears to warn him if the gang approached.  Soon they’d overtake that crazy Nightmare Night fanatic and send their fastest members to teach him his lesson.  Whimpering between labored breaths, the big brown stallion pushed on.  If only he could get back to the heart of Canterlot, perhaps the guards would have some pity and put him back in jail.

His breath was the loudest thing in the world, and he knew it.  He couldn’t keep from gasping as fear of the inevitable webbed inside his lungs.

“What in Tartarus was I th-thinking?” he sobbed to himself.  “Beating up that kid just for taking my spot… I m-must have been out of my mind!”  He snorted dual plumes of vapor, throwing his head down to flick away the sweat and tears freezing on his face.  “I felt so… p-powerful, finally being part of the group… why the hay did I take it so far?  I shoulda just left that kid alone!”

“Well said.”

Foaly Edge yelped at the whisper just inches from his ear, spinning to see its speaker.  An incoherent babbling dribbled from his lips as his green eyes swelled in terror, reflected in the cold, blank eyes of an angry shadow.


(/\/\)


The stallion passed out.

“Dang, girl!” Lyra said, laughing to the ceiling.  “I didn’t think you were that scary!”

“I didn’t think you were the type to say dang, girl, but life’s full o’ surprises,” Apple Bloom teased, hoisting the broad stallion onto her back.  “Hhmmmph!  Sweet potato hay fries, he’s heavy!”

“Sweet potato hay fries?”

“Shuddup, you!  Where am I takin’ ‘im?”

Lyra chuckled.  “Uhhh… how far can you go?”

Apple Bloom bounced on her hind legs.  “Plenty far.  Dozen blocks, at least.”

“Well, you won’t need to do that.  Look up.”

Apple Bloom tilted her head to a ninety degree angle, peering past the wide brim of her hat to the sky above.  Just a few streets north was a tall brick building, all along the side of which a fire escape zig-zagged to the roof.

“Perfect,” she grunted, repositioning the stallion.  “Thanks, Ly—”

“Shhh!”  Lyra swung her hooves, as if somehow she could smack Apple Bloom upside the head from Ponyville.  “Don’t say my name!”

“Oh, right… sorry, uhhh… Songless?”

Lyra rolled her eyes beneath their lids.  “Unsung,” she corrected.

“Oh, right.  Sorry, Un-Sung.”

“It’s just one word.  Unsung.  Y'know, like the unsung hero?  Plus it's kind of musical sounding, so I... I thought it was clever.”

“Nnnngg… whatever you say, Tonedeaf.”

Lyra slumped back onto her bed and crossed her forelegs.  “Hurry up, will you?”

Apple Bloom carried her heavy load to the base of the tall building at a brisk trot.  She dumped him next to the first flight of metal stairs, pulled her head back, and squinted at the roof.

“Reckon I can use that rock Twilight enchanted?” she asked.

Surprised, Lyra opened her eyes for a moment, quickly losing her connection.  With a squeak of protest, she clamped them shut once more, channeling her senses of sight and hearing through her horn.  “Well, I guess so.  You’ve only got the one, remember.  It’s not like I can ask for any more.”

“Yeah, well, it’ll be worth it,” Apple Bloom said, kicking the fire escape.  “I ain’t draggin’ ‘im all the way up this thing.”

“All right, then.  Let’s hope it works.”

Digging through her pouch, Apple Bloom found another black gem, this one pulsing with a reddish-violet glow.  Readying herself to sprint, Apple Bloom broke the crystal against the stallion’s spine, waiting for less than a second to watch its influence seep over him.  As fast as she dared, Apple Bloom raced up the rickety fire escape, spinning and galloping up flight after flight until she dove from the top level onto the roof and rolled to the tips of her hooves.

“And not a moment too soon!” Lyra said as Apple Bloom caught the floating stallion’s tail in her mouth and anchored him with her weight.  Purplish glares twinkled all over his body as the gravity spell began to wear off.  Like a child toting a balloon, Apple Bloom guided them to another corner of the wide, flat roof where the fire escape could not be seen.

Lyra continued to giggle.  “Can you imagine what would happen if you didn’t catch his tail?”

“He would keep floatin’ up ‘til he started floatin’ down,” Apple Bloom said with a shrug.  “And I’d have to go find him.”

“Pssh.  Party pooper.”

“Look, Lyra, could you be serious for a minute?”  Apple Bloom winced at her own harshness.  “I mean, yeah, this is fun and all, but… this next part’s gotta be done right if I’m gonna make any mark on this city.”

Lyra’s ears twitched and she bowed her head, and while Apple Bloom couldn’t see that, she heard the new tone in her voice.  “Yes, of course.  I’m sorry, Apple Bloom.”

“S’fine.”  The last of Twilight’s magic left the stallion’s body.  “It’s not like there are any rules to this thing.”

“Not yet,” Lyra said with a grin.  One deep breath and a crack of her neck: “All right.  Make your mark, and wake him up.”


(/\/\)


The brightness of the Moon might have been a comfort if it wasn’t coming from the bottom of Foaly Edge’s vision.

“Oh, sweet Sparkle!” he cried out, wriggling what limbs he could.  “I’m upside down!”  His hind hooves were bound together by dark purple cords; the same knot which restricted them was tied to the end of a flagpole.  He dangled alongside a flag displaying Princess Sparkle’s insignia, trying to blink away his headache as it came into view.  “Hhh… how did I…?”

The flag was ripped away, revealing a pair of ice blue lenses angled in a vengeful stare, surrounded by a sea of fearsome, featureless indigo.

“No!  No, no, no, oh, Sweet Celestia, please, no!”

“Aaahhh…”  A rough voice bled through the mask.  “Now there’s a name I recognize.”

Foaly Edge knew the accent of an upper class Canterlotian, but the rasp of the voice made it impossible to identify the figure’s gender.

As his eyes frantically darted to every point within his sight, Foaly Edge realized how high up they were.  “H-h-how did we get up here?” he asked in a tight voice.

“Leaving the questions to me would do you well,” the figure growled, leaning further over the edge of the building to breathe in Edge’s face.

His jaw trembled on its own accord while he nodded into those cold eyes.  A thousand questions swam between his ears, but he managed to keep his vocalizations to pitiful whimpers while the masked pony spoke.

“Tell me about the Mangled Marks.”

Foaly Edge shuddered.  “No way!  I’m already in deep enough manure with them—”

The pony flung a hoof out from its side and pulled Foaly closer by the top of his mane.  “Who do they work for?  What do they do?”

He blinked.  “Huh?”

“What do the Mangled Marks do?”

A tiny smile twitched at the corners of the stallion’s mouth.  “You mean… you don’t know?”  A breathy laugh escaped his lips and he found some scrap of courage in its sound.  “Are you new to town, Raspy?  Do you even know what’s goin’ on here?”

The pony growled and pushed Foaly by the forehead, sending him into a frantic swing by the knot around his hooves.

“Gaaahh!  Whoooaah!  Okay, okay!”  The fabric around his hooves loosened.  “Gyeeeck!  Okay, all right, I’ll tell you!  I’ll tell you whatever you wanna know!”

The hoof wrapped in purple snatched his mane again, stopping his momentum.  “Get talking.”

“Okay, look… uh…”  He grit his teeth, and squeezed his eyes shut, desperate to collect his thoughts.  A bit of saliva dripped from his top lip, drizzling over the underside of his snout.  “I-I haven’t been in the gang for long, but this is what I know: there’s a chemical, yeah?  Some kinda potion or something, I dunno… comes from some weird tree and then our unicorns do their thing.  It makes you feel good and see crazy stuff that isn’t there.  I’ve never tried it myself, ‘cause it’s addicting as heck, but that’s the whole point.  We’re distributors, see, and we peddle the stuff to ponies all over Canterlot.  We’re not the only ones, though… there are tons of gangs, and not all of ‘em sell the Sap.  But—”  He grimaced, hardly believing what he was about say.  “But if you’re looking to… I dunno, stop it all… there’s really only three names you need to know.”

The figure yanked harder at his mane, sending a wave of pain through the flesh on his skull.  “And they are?”

“The Mangled Marks—that’s us!  Easy to spot, ‘cause we gotta mess up our Cutie Marks to be part of the group, but… but they’re powerful.  More powerful than the government around here, that’s for sure.  Everyone’s afraid of ‘em—er, I mean, us.  We were the first to start spreading the Sap, see?  Other gangs caught on and made their own versions of the product, but we’re the originals: the first crime ring in Canterlot, and we’re proud of it!”

“That’s not what I want to hear,” it growled, twisting his orange mane painfully.  “What are the other gangs?”

“Nnrrrrh!  Uh, there’s, um… Falcon’s gang!  He’s a griffon, real serious guy.  They sell a similar stuff to our Sap, but it’s all solid… crystalized, see?  They don’t have anything close to the power and influence the Marks do, but… but they’re brutal, and they’re one to keep an eye on.  Y’know… in your position.”

“Keep talking,” the masked pony hissed.

After a loud gulp, Foaly Edge said, “The only other big name in Canterlot is the Gonne.”

The mask’s eyes seemed to narrow.  “The ‘go-nay’?”

“I-It’s Itailian,” he stuttered.  “They have some long name… Gonne Chordy Esplosioni, or something, I dunno!  We just call ‘em Gonne.”  The blood collecting in his head was putting black borders around his vision.  “They’re run by a lady, some mare called Satin.  There aren’t a ton of ‘em, but they’re rich, and they’re bad.  Heck, even we try to stay out of their way.  They do a lot of, uh… ‘protection’ stuff, y’know?  ‘You pay us money and we don’t kill you’ type of protection.  Heheh…”  A rough shake put him back on track.  “They do heists!  Lots of heists, organized stuff, high security vaults and whatever.  Oh, Sparkle, my head…”

“You’re almost done,” it promised in a far from reassuring voice.  “Just tell me who leads the Mangled Marks.”

Edge’s eyes crossed for a moment and he burst into laughter.  His jaw was snapped shut with a quick punch, but he giggled through his answer.  “Nopony… heehee… nopony knows who leads the M-Mangled Marks!  Baahaha!”  He tossed his head about carelessly.  “You really don’t know anything, do ya, Raspy?”

He gasped as the pony suddenly tugged at a hidden string, loosening the knot around Foaly Edge’s ankles.  He screamed as his legs fell, only to stay suspended over the edge of the building by the masked pony’s hoof entwined in his mane.  As the blood rushed out of his head and the pain returned full force, he wriggled and shrieked in the pony’s strong grip and pled as tears sprang to his eyes.

“Wh-why are you doing this?” he choked.  “Why?”

The head beneath the mask slowly tilted to one side, flashing Moonlight off its sky blue lenses.


(/\/\)


“I’ll help you,” Lyra promised, draping a foreleg over Apple Bloom’s shoulder.  “I will do everything I can to help you.”

The earth pony nuzzled her mint-green coat.  “Thank you, Lyra.  I might well’ve given up if you weren’t there ta—”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” Lyra interrupted, smiling at the distant Sunrise.  “I saw the fire in your eyes.  I’m just glad that Fate would let me in on this adventure.”  She took a deep, cleansing breath through her nose.  “You’re going to change things, Apple Bloom.  You’re going to make a difference in this world, make life better for hundreds of thousands of ponies.”

“Hundreds o’ thousands?”  Apple Bloom sighed.  “How on Equus am I gonna do that?”

“You’re going to start a revolution.”  The older pony beamed at the sky.  “You’re going to inspire Equestrian citizens to revolt against Twilight’s regime.”  She looked into Apple Bloom’s wide, eager eyes.  “And—hopefully—that will be enough.”





















“So the train is definitely out of the question.”

“Absolutely.  Even if they don’t have guards lookin’ for me, it’ll be too risky to carry all these gems on board… not to mention the costume.”  Apple Bloom closed the small briefcase in which the Mare Do Well garb was packed and turned to Lyra’s counter in the Heartstrings home's kitchen.  She picked up one of the black stones, glowing with a distinctly Twilight Sparkle-ish hue.  “What’s this one hold?”

“An anti-gravity spell,” Lyra said, crumpling up another sheet of paper full of crossed out plans.  “She made it for me not long after the Crystal Empire was rediscovered.  Do you remember that?”

“Barely,” Apple Bloom admitted, setting the crystal among its kind, glowing with various greens and blues.  “If only one o’ these suckers had a teleportation spell or some kinda flyin' thing...”

Lyra sat bolt upright on the edge of her bed.  “That’s it!  That’s how we’ll get you back to Canterlot!”

Apple Bloomed wheeled about.  “Huh?  One o’ these rocks is full o' teleportin’?”

“No,” Lyra said, hurrying to Apple Bloom's side and ushering her to the door, "we can't teleport you that far, but you can take a flying thing."




































“Scootaloo!”

“Apple Bloom?”

The orange pegasus dove from her napping cloud and pulled her friend into a suffocating hug.  “Holy crap, Apple Bloom, I was so scared!  I went over to Sweet Apple Acres this morning and asked where you were and Applejack said she could care less and I looked everywhere but I couldn’t find you and I thought you’d gone back to Canterlot or something stupid like that!”  She sighed and relaxed her hold on her friend, burying her face into Apple Bloom’s mane.  “Gosh, don’t freak me out like that.”

Apple Bloom patted her friend’s purple mane and held her by the shoulders at foreleg’s length.  “Actually, Scootaloo, I am tryin’ to get back to Canterlot.”

Scootaloo’s wings flared.  “What!?  Why?”

Apple Bloom glanced around the park, taking note of how far they were from any of the playing foals or chatting parents.  Lyra nodded from her bench in the distance.  Leaning forward, Apple Bloom whispered in Scootaloo’s ear, “To save Equestria, Scoots.  I’m gonna be the new Mare Do Well.”

The pegasus’ violet eyes grew and shone in Twilight Sparkle’s Sunlight.  “What?  Are you serious!?  That’s totally awesome!”

“Yeah, it is!” Apple Bloom agreed, unable to hold back a cheek-splitting grin.  “But I need yer help to get back unnoticed.  Got any ideas?”

Scootaloo fidgeted and bumped her hooves against the sides of her head.  Suddenly she gasped.  “Of course!  Follow me!”





















“It was Pinkie Pie’s!”

“Yeah.  I know.”

“Oh, right… sorry, Bloom.”

“Does it fly?”

Scootaloo flashed her a devilish grin and took a seat in the bizarre contraption.  “It does now that I’ve gotten my hooves on it!” she said, snatching a pair of goggles from a lidded container attached to the frame by her hip.  She pulled them over her mane and covered her sparkling eyes, but not before Apple Bloom noticed the fire that burned behind them.  It was a familiar spark, one she had seen in Harper’s eyes on the train to Canterlot.  As Scootaloo’s hind legs began to crank the pedals of the machine, Apple Bloom looked fondly at the purple wrench surrounded in flame that marked her friend’s flank.

“Haa haaaa!  Check out those blades!” Scootaloo said, pointing above her head.  “See how fast they’re already spinning?  I’m barely pushing on these pedals!”  She grinned and tucked her hooves around the levers in front of her chest.  “I rigged the gears to turn the main shaft three times faster than Pinkie’s designs!  This thing can really dash!”

She had to raise her voice over the buzz of the blades reverberating off the walls of the little shed.

“Open the other door, Apple Bloom!” Scootaloo called out as her purple locks whipped around her beaming face.

The yellow pony scrambled to the double doors of Scootaloo’s shed, passing through the open space they’d entered and using her teeth to yank at the outside of the second door.  It swung on well-oiled hinges and gave Scootaloo and her vehicle a clear path to the skies.

“Awwww yeeeeaaahh!” the pegasus cried, rotating her legs faster.  The sleek contraption, painted like a summer sky, lifted off the ground and whooshed past the startled farmpony.  Scootaloo cackled and called over her shoulder, “That was for you, Bloom!”

As she watched the strange machine shrink among the clouds, Apple Bloom wondered how long it'd take to paint it violet.



















She burst through the cabin door.  “Lyra, it’s perfect!  I ain't never seen anythin' move that… fast… what’re ya doin’?”

Lyra’s horn flickered as she glanced at Apple Bloom.  “One second!” she grunted, turning back to the wide-brimmed hat floating in her magical grasp.

The artist’s amber eyes widened as emerald sparks exploded from the bottom of the hat, orbited around its glow, and absorbed into the top.  The loops became more and more frequent as Lyra strained and ground her hooves into the tile floor.  Before long, Apple Bloom had to avert her eyes from the blinding glow of the horn.  Then, with a crack, the brightness vanished and the hat dropped to the floor.

“Whoa!”  Apple Bloom took a step closer, swinging her tail.  “What was that?”

“The hardest spell I’ve ever done…” Lyra panted, smiling as well.  She levitated an open book from her bed to Apple Bloom as she explained in laypony’s terms.  “Whew… I connected my senses to the hat.  Whenever a pony is wearing it and I perform that spell, I’ll be able to see through their eyes, hear through their ears, and speak directly into their minds, among other things.”

Apple Bloom’s jaw dropped.  “Lyra, are you serious?  That’s amazin’!”

“It’s kind of dangerous,” the unicorn admitted, lifting the hat with one hoof, “but as long as we’re careful, I think its benefits will far outweigh its potential consequences.”  She tossed the hat to Apple Bloom and grinned with one corner of her mouth.  “Give it a try.”

Ears twitching, Apple Bloom slid the hat over her thick red mane.  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath; moments later, a green glow touched her eyelids.  When she opened them, Lyra was sitting on her haunches, teeth shining in the light of her horn below her own tight-shut eyes.

“Yeah,” she said, shocking Apple Bloom when the words arrived in her ears as well as in her thoughts, “this will do just fine.”



















“Why am I here?” Apple Bloom repeated in the shadowy dialect she had practiced.  The stallion dangling by his mane twitched and whimpered, unable to tear his gaze away from her mask’s imposing pair.

She relished his fear.  She drank the terror in his eyes like some expensive wine, letting it flush heat into her cheeks and ramp up the beating of her heart.  Staring at the brown stallion’s quivering hooves, she imagined them pummeling Harper’s snout until his perfect teeth broke off in waves of innocent blood.

She wanted to break the abuser’s neck, or pound her hoof into his face until his screams were silenced, or throw him from the building and leave him in an alley to rot, pitiless, lifeless, and friendless.

Breathing heavily, Apple Bloom leaned further over the edge of the roof, holding the stallion inches from her face.

“Because you’re sick.  Canterlot is sick.”  She snorted and looked at the beautiful Moon.  “All of Equestria has fallen ill to evil—and I’m here to make it well.”

With a flick of her wrist, his orange mane untangled from her hoof.  He gasped, throwing his hooves forward as if to grab her neck, but Apple Bloom quickly pulled away.  She watched him fall—screaming into the indifferent night—and land in a dumpster overflowing with rotten trash.

Apple Bloom sighed and shook away her jitters.  “Looks like a little colt fell down the well,” she whispered.

Lyra snorted.  “Try not to say those when I’m the only one listening.”


(/\/\)


“Come on, Topper!” a maroon earth pony called over his shoulder, stumbling forward on his three good legs.  “Luna’s nipple, where did he go?”

The white pegasus trotted gingerly behind him, careful not to bounce his broken wing.  “What in Tartarus was that thing?”

“A friggin’ crazy pony,” the lame stallion answered, throwing one eye from alley to alley along the roads of Outer Canterlot.  “For peat’s sake, we better find him soon.  The boss’ll turn the blame to us if Foaly don’t get his due!”

Topper gulped.  “What if it got to him first?”

“What would that nutcase want with Foaly, huh?  It was trying to kill the boss.  Why else would it ride Cornrow up there?”

“Yeesh,” Topper grimaced.  “Did you see Cornrow?  Crashed pretty bad…”

“I can barely see a thing,” the other snapped, whipping around to show Topper his swollen right eye.  The motion swung his sprained hind leg, shooting a stab of pain up his side and making him hiss.

“Uh… Scurvy…” Topper drawled.

“Shut up!  It frickin’ hurts, okay?”

“No, not that.  Look!  It’s Foaly!”

Scurvy snapped his head up to where Topper was staring.  On a tall building the next road over, a dark shape was dangling the big earth pony over the roof by his mane.

“Horseapples!” Scurvy swore in a high-pitched rasp.  “We gotta get over there before—”

The vigilante shook its hoof, and Foaly dropped out of sight.

“Crap!  Crap!  Crap!” Scurvy mumbled, moving as fast as three legs would allow between a couple of shoddy apartment complexes and to the base of the building.  To his relief, Foaly was groaning on a pile of putrid garbage.  Topper appeared at his side, staring at the slim figure high above their heads.  Just as Scurvy caught a glimpse of it, the masked pony spun around with a flare of its cape and disappeared from view.

“What in Sparkle’s name just happened?” Scurvy snarled, marching awkwardly to the dumpster.  “What did it say to you?”

Foaly tried to stand, slipping on a soggy box and tumbling from his perch.  He landed hard on his right side and moaned into the ground.  Topper and Scurvy trotted to stand above him, gawking at the coat of his up-facing ribcage.

“What?” Foaly croaked, lifting his sore neck in a vain attempt to see his own side.  “What did it do to me?”

“She,” Topper corrected.  “It’s a mare.”

Foaly blinked.  “How do you know that?”

The pegasus used a hoof to lift Foaly’s head enough for him to see the lines of fur ripped out of his own skin.  The exposed flesh stung in the crisp night air.

“Mare Do Well,” Foaly read aloud.  “What does it mean?”

Topper dropped Foaly’s head onto the alley floor as Scurvy snorted.  “Isn’t it obvious?  That’s her signature.”

Foaly’s trembles returned full-force.  “Her… signature?”

Scurvy’s gaze drifted up to the roof where the mask no longer watched.  “It means she’s done… for tonight.”  A strange grin pulled at the corner of his mouth.  “But she’ll be back.”


(/\/\)


Sweetie Belle squealed as she burst into her apartment.  “Blitz!  Lilac!” she called out, slamming and locking the door behind her.

The two ponies sprinted out of their rooms and draped their legs over the back of the couch.  

“What?  What is it?”

“Did she do it again?”

“Yes!”

All three screamed with joy, wiggling, clapping, and stomping their hooves.  Sweetie Belle threw the newspaper onto the coffee table and the three mares gathered tightly around it to read the front page.

“Insane ‘vigilante’ attacks again!” Sweetie Belle voiced.

“The sixth act of treason this month!” Lilac picked out of the article.

“The Canterlot Guard agree: Mare Do Well is a top priority target!” Sweetie chirped.

“A force to be reckoned with!” Blitz shouted, inspiring another loud round of girly cheering.

“Can you believe it?” Sweetie asked, snatching up the newspaper to fan herself.  “A real superhero, right here in Canterlot!”

“I thought it may have been a fluke at first,” Lilac admitted, tucking a strand of her blue-and-white striped mane behind her burgundy ear, “but after an entire month of clearly calculated foils… oh, how I hope it’s true!”

Sweetie beamed and hugged the newspaper close to her chest.  “Oh, I knew she’d do it!  I just knew she could do it!”

Blitz blinked.  “Who could do what, Sweetie Belle?”

Sweetie sighed and set the paper down.  “Oh, nothing… I just—heehee—had a feeling that something like this would happen, I suppose.”  She tittered into a hoof and swished her tail along the couch.

Lilac raised an eyebrow.  Before she could question her, a sharp knock rapped at the door.  The trio froze and looked at each other.  “Guards?” Blitz mouthed.  Lilac shrunk back toward the hallway.  Sweetie Belle steeled herself, donned a calm smile, and raised her head high as she trotted to the door.  Clearing her throat briefly, she used her magic to undo the lock, swing the door open… and nearly screamed on the spot.

“Hi, Sweetie Belle!”

“A-A-Apple Bloom?” Sweetie stammered, blinking rapidly.  She stuck her head out the door, searching the street below for guards and yanking the grinning earth pony inside.  Flicking it shut with her tail, she reeled on Apple Bloom and stared her down with electric eyes and pursed lips.  “What in Equestria are you doing here?” she seethed.

“Apple Bloom!” Blitz shouted, flapping her wild blue wings in excitement and tackling her into the wall.  “You’re back!”

“Did I hear ‘Apple Bloom’?” Lilac asked, trotting out.  “Oh my stars!  Where have you been, dear?  It’s been nearly two months!”

Apple Bloom giggled in Blitz’s embrace, peeling her away with an affectionate squeeze of her shoulder.  “It’s good t’see all o' y’all, too!” she said, looking across the room to the burgundy earth pony.  “I couldn’t take the pressure, after what happened to Harper.  I’ve been livin’ in hotels at the outskirts o’ Canterlot.”

“Have you been attending your classes?” Lilac asked, hurrying to offer her a dainty hug.

Apple Bloom laughed.  “Heck no!”

Lilac’s brow tilted with concern.  “Surely you’ve failed school by now.  I don’t mean to be rude, dear, but why come back here?”

Sweetie’s eyes narrowed.  “Yeah, Apple Bloom.  What.  Are.  You.  Thinking?”

Apple Bloom bit her lip.  “Well, I just….”  

Sweetie noticed something break behind Apple Bloom’s eyes, softening her heart to the following words.

“I just needed m-my friends.”

All three of the apartments’ permanent inhabitants broke into comforting noises and loving words, holding their friend as she collapsed into tears.

“Oh, you poor dear, we’re here for you!”

“Don’t cry, Apple Bloom, everything’s okay!”

Several minutes later, Blitz and Lilac were cooking a meal for Apple Bloom in the kitchen.  The pitiable pony was wrapped in a blanket and sitting on the couch with Sweetie Belle.  Neither were speaking, but listening to the friendly squabbles in the other room and staring at the newspaper on the tiny central table.

“Are you gonna let me stay?” Apple Bloom asked without looking at her friend.

Sweetie Belle frowned.  “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I didn’t do what you told me to,” Apple Bloom said, bowing her head.  “I didn’t go back to Ponyville.  I didn’t fix anything.”

“Nice try,” Sweetie said, bumping a hind hoof into her old friend’s thigh, “but you’re not a very good actress.”

Apple Bloom popped one eye open.  “Huh?”

Sweetie leaned forward and started to whisper.  “I think you did go back to Ponyville.  I think you stayed there for a week or two and figured out exactly how to make a difference in this place.  You said you’ve been living in hotels?  Well, maybe that’s true—but only for a month.  ‘Cause when you came back to Canterlot—”  She tapped the newspaper.  “—you brought someone else with you.”

Apple Bloom tried to hide a smile, burying her face in her hooves.  “Shoot.  Is it that obvious?”

Sweetie’s eyes glistened.  “So it’s true, then?  I’m right?”

“‘Bout what?” the farmpony teased.

Sweetie jabbed her in the ribs.  “You’re Mare Do Well!” she hissed.

Apple Bloom nodded discreetly.

“Eeeeheeheeheehee!”  Sweetie erupted into giggled, kicking her hind hooves in tiny circles.  “I knew it!  I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!  That’s why I snapped at you when you came through the door!  I thought you were… I don’t know, giving up or something!  When that first paper came out, about the ‘dangerous madpony’ roaming the streets at night and attacking innocent citizens—”

Apple Bloom looked up with a tenseness in her cheeks.  “You didn’t believe all that hooey, didja?”

“No way!  Nopony did!  Everyone knows the newspapers are monitored.  If they’re talking bad about somepony, we all know she’s trying to change things!”  Sweetie shook Apple Bloom, watching her thick mane swing around her blushing face.  “You should hear the talk at school, Apple Bloom!  Everyone loves Mare Do Well!  And I just knew it was you!”

She scooted closer to her friend, wrapping her forehooves around her from the side.  “Oh, I’m so proud of you!”

“Ow!  Ow!” Apple Bloom yelped, trying to push her away through the blanket.

Sweetie gasped and jumped back.  “Oh, gosh!  Are you hurt?”

Apple Bloom offered a weak smile.  “Turns out superheroes ain’t invincible, and I ain’t the only one throwin’ punches out there.”

Wincing, Sweetie pulled back the grey blanket.  “Where?  I’ll help you!”

“It’s a broken rib, I think,” she said, lifting her left forelimb.  “Nothin’ you can do.”

“Oh, Apple Bloooom…” Sweetie groaned, sliding off the couch to get a better look.  “You have to be careful!”

She laughed.  “I am careful, silly!  I’m still alive, ain’t I?”

Sweetie’s smile came back as if someone had flicked a switch.  “And the criminals are running scared!”

“Not quite yet,” Apple Bloom chortled.  Her eyes flashed and her voice took on a lower tone to say, “But they will be.”

Sweetie shoved her face into Apple Bloom’s mane and squealed with delight.  “Oh, I knew it, I knew it!  I love you, Apple Bloom, you stupid, genius pony!”

“So I can stay?” Apple Bloom asked.  “I’m all out o’ bits and—”

“Of course you can stay!” Sweetie said shrilly, slapping the top of Apple Bloom’s head.  “Why didn’t you just come here in the first place?”

“I didn’t wanna hafta explain—”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell the girls anything,” Sweetie promised, sliding an invisible zipper along her lips.  “I haven’t said a word about my suspicions, and I don’t plan to.”  She jumped back onto the couch and nuzzled her friend.  “Besides, no one would figure it out but me!  Mare Do Well was only famous in Ponyville.”

Apple Bloom smiled and glanced from the newspaper to her small suitcase beside the front door.  

“Not anymore.”
> 10 - The Mantles We Don
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


CHAPTER TEN
THE MANTLES WE DON





Princess Sparkle stared at the ground.

Shining Armor cleared his throat.  "Your... Majesty?"

Her breath was so slow that even the Captain's heart slowed down.

"Did you hear me?  Cloudsdale, too.  It's only been a month, and somepony already put on a mask in Cloudsdale."

"I heard you," the Princess said.  Her multilayered voice carried the whisper through the entire hall.

He grit his teeth.  “I’m not sure you’re taking this as seriously as you should, sister.  First here in Canterlot, then that brute in Trottingham, and now Cloudsdale?  These vigilantes are threatening your order.  They will draw the ponies away from you.  They don’t understand—”

“You do not understand!” Twilight shouted.  Her eyes did not leave the marble below.  “I am well aware of the situation, Captain.  I know what could come of this.  The vigilantes do not go unnoticed and shall not go unpunished.”

Shining Armor shifted his stance and stood taller.  “Then... your orders?"

Twilight's eyes were very dark when she looked up.  Her horn glowed black and it seemed to suck the light of the setting Sun from the windows.

“Find them."  She blinked.  "Kill them."


(/\/\)


"Find them, Roots!  What do you mean you just dropped them?”

Two stallions scrambled low in an alleyway, running their hooves along corners in the darkness.

“I dunno, something hit my hoof!” Roots whined, shaking it out.  “I swear, I didn’t mean to!”

“That’s not gonna be enough for the boss,” his companion hissed in a gravelly voice.  “He’s already lost too much product this month.  I swear, it’s like the whole world turned on us at once…”

“Why don’t you just say it?” Roots suddenly yelled, leaping to his hooves.  “You know what this is.  We both do!  She’s here!”

The other stallion’s eyes narrowed.  “You shut up.”

“It was one of her… one of her little thingies!”  He traced a shape in the air.  “That’s what hit my hoof, Macaroni.  She’s here!  We’re doomed, we’re doomed…”

“You probably just got scared and dropped the stupid bag,” Macaroni growled.  “Now stop panicking and find every capsule.”

“I swear, something hit me,” Roots sobbed, dropping back to his knees and running the edge of his hoof into the darkest spaces between discarded boxes and trash cans in the alleyway.  “We haven’t found a single one.  Where could they have gone?”

Macaroni made a face and stretched a leg behind a metal bin.  His hoof fished around for a moment, then stopped on something smooth.  He grinned.  “Got ‘em,” he said, pulling.  “You must have tossed the whole bag over here.  Yeah, they all landed in this…”

A small, clear bag of greenish pills lay in the bottom of a large, upside down, purple, pointy—

“…hat.”

Whack!  A thin hoof wrapped in indigo caught Macaroni’s neck from behind.  The stallion dropped without a sound, muzzle-first into the packaged drugs.  Roots could hardly breathe, let alone speak, as the attacker rose from the darkness, pushed Macaroni's face out of the hat, and lifted it squarely over her own masked head.

“Well, well, well,” she said slowly, tying Macaroni’s limp hooves together in an expert knot.  “More Mangled Marks.  I thought I’d seen the last of you in this part of town.”

“N-n-now you have!” Roots stammered, sweating above his smile.  “I-I’ll go tell the boss right now, n-n-no more deals in the Cornstalk District.”

“No more deals in any District!” Mare Do Well roared.  Her cape billowed around her as she leapt onto the terrified stallion, pushing him against the wall.  “You say you can go straight to the boss?  I find that hard to believe.”

“I-I-I’ll get the message to him!” Roots choked.  Mare Do Well pushed harder on his sternum.  “Oh, Luna!  Oh, please, no!”

“You know what I can do.”

“Yes, yes, I know!” he screamed.  “Oh, please, don’t break my ribs!  I swear, we’ll never come back here!”

“I don’t need you to swear to me.”  Mare Do Well kept one strong hoof on the center of his chest and reached below her cape with the other.  “I need you to deliver for me.”  She removed a stiff envelope.  “You make sure this gets to your boss.”

“Yes, okay, I will,” Roots wheezed, starting to laugh.  “I swear, I — er, I mean, yes, I’ll do it, I’ll do whatever you say!”

“Hmm.”  Mare Do Well’s blank eyes seemed to narrow.  “Very well.”

She moved to hit Roots in the face.  He shrieked and closed his eyes.  Suddenly the pressure on his chest was gone and, when he dared to check, so was Mare Do Well.

On Macaroni’s stirring body was the silver envelope.  Roots swallowed hard and timidly moved to his fallen comrade.  He picked up the paper — more like tin foil, really — and shivered at the insignia on its back, now so infamous to Canterlot’s criminals.


(/\/\)


“Hey, that’s mine!”

“Tough nuts, lady,” the hefty stallion said, ripping the saddlebag from Creamsicle’s dainty grip.

“Come back!” she yelled as the stallion tore away.  The streets were dark and empty.  “Somepony, stop him!”

As the robber passed under a tall streetlight, a dark shape dropped from the sky and landed squarely on his shoulders.  “OOMF!” was all he got to say before a quick jab knocked him out cold.  Creamsicle gasped excitedly as Mare Do Well tied the thief to the base of the light post with impressive speed.  She snatched the saddlebag from its temporary spotlight and jumped back to Creamsicle in two flowing bounds.

“A mare would do well to stay in groups at night,” she said.  “Be safe.”

Creamsicle beamed.  “Thanks, Apple Bloom!”

Mare Do Well turned around and poised to leap.  She froze in place.  Only her head snapped back to the tall mare with a wildly green, short cropped mane.  “What?”

Creamsicle giggled.  “I said thanks for saving my bag, Apple Bloom.”

“How didja…”  Apple Bloom looked around for listening ears.  “How didju know it was me?” she asked in her normal voice.

“Ha!  I could point out those red locks from a mile away,” Creamiscle said, reaching out to bounce a lock of Apple Bloom’s mane in her hoof.  It had slipped out from her mask.

“Oh, gosh darn it!”  Apple Bloom tucked the hair back into place.  “That’s what I get fer takin’ on too much in one night.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anypony,” Creamsicle promised, resting a hoof over her heart.  “And, just for the record, I think it’s wonderful what you’re doing here.”

“I’m surprised you even remember me,” Apple Bloom said, playing with the edges of her mask.  “It’s been ages since the first day o’ school.”

“Has it?  I haven’t really noticed.”  She lifted her saddlebag over her body.  “I don’t go the school, remember?  I’m a hairdresser.  Days and weeks sorta blend together for me.  Just one mane after another.”

“Oh.  Right.”

Creamsicle winked.  “You could come in anytime.  I’m on Oatmeal Street.  I’ll give you a new cut to hide better in that mask.”

“Wouldn’t that be kinda suspicious?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Nah, everypony changes their do now and again,” Creamsicle chirped.  “Well, drop in sometime, anyway.  I’d like to see you without the getup.  And if I can be of any help — y’know, to the cause of freedom or whatever — count me in!  I want to see Canterlot cleaned up just as much as the next pony.  I’ll do whatever I can.”

Apple Bloom narrowed her eyes.  “You sure?  It’s pretty dangerous to get involved.”

“Oh, please!  I’m a brave girl.  A couple of crazy gangs don’t scare me.”

“I’m going for more than the gangs,” Apple Bloom said, facing the empty night of the mountainside metropolis.  “The Princess of Dusk will fall to the nearing storm of justice.”

Creamsicle raised a thin eyebrow.  “Uh huh.  Whatever you say.  Okay, bye!”

She waved cutely and trotted down the Moonlit street.  Apple Bloom sighed, made sure her mane was tucked away, and hurried to the nearest fire escape.  A few quick jumps and pulls brought her costumed body to the roof of a short building.  She ran along its edge and leapt through the night, watching her shadow disappear and reappear with the rooftops below her.  She bounded from building to taller building until she reached a vantage point of the Cornstalk District that proved to her the safety of its streets.

She breathed hard and sat on her haunches.  “Lyra?  Are you there?”

“Yes ma’am,” came the familiar voice.  “And please don’t call me by my real name.  You never know who’s listening.”

“Ugh!”  Apple Bloom rolled her eyes.  “It’d be easier if you had a codename cooler than Unsung.”

“It doesn’t get much lamer than Mare Do Well.”

“Hey!  Mare Do Well is cool.”

The sound of slurping came to Apple Bloom’s mind.  “Not with how many dumb puns you tie to it.”

“That’s my favorite part.  What’re you drinkin’?”

“Latte.  Almost finished.”

“Yeah, I can tell, yer slurping up the last molecules o’ that thing.”

“No, not with the drink.  I’m almost done analyzing the data on those drugs.”

Apple Bloom sat up straighter.  “Oh!  It worked?”

“Yeah, while those pills were in the hat I got a pretty good reading.”  She took another swig of her coffee.  “This machine I… uh… borrowed from Doctor Whooves is almost done analyzing the stuff.  It’s already come up with most of its composition.”

“What’s it made of?  If we can find out what the ingredients are—”

“We can find out where it’s coming from and stop it at the source,” finished Lyra.  “Right.  Give me five more minutes.  You should probably get home, Apple Bloom.  You’ve been out there for hours.  I nearly nodded off a few times.  Not that you’re boring, it’s just late.”

“That’s the life of a superhero, I guess,” Apple Bloom said, stretching out her limbs.  “Ooohh… those first stallions were strong.”

“You hurt?”

“Just a bit.  I think my fetlocks are bruised.”

Lyra winced.  “You’d better tend to that.  You need those in this business.”

Apple Bloom laughed.

“But really, Bloom, I’m glad you’re in the mask and I’m in my room.  I’m kind of a wimp when it comes to pain.”

“Well, you’ve been through quite enough of it for one good mare, Unsung.”  She stood and gazed over her self-assigned jurisdiction.  “Rest well.  Tomorrow we—”

A blue blur slammed into her from the side.  Apple Bloom slammed onto the roof and skidded to its far edge, rolling over another pony in her grasp.

“Apple Bloom!” Lyra cried.  “What is that?”

“Mmrrgh!”  Apple Bloom struggled against the pony’s strong grip.  The Moon was directly behind her attacker’s head and the exposure hid its features.

“Who are you?” the pony asked in a scratchy voice.

“The Hope of Harmony.”  She flexed her abdomen, pulling her hind legs nearly to her chest and kicking upward.  Her assailant was sent flying—literally.  Its impressive wings opened and pulled it in a tight circle.  It kept its head low and barreled straight for Apple Bloom.

She acted fast, rolling to her left and plummeting off the side of the roof.  “Unsung, where’s the Wishing Well?”

“It’s nowhere near you, Bloom, still by the cemetery!”  She facehoofed.  “And, once again, that’s a really stupid name!”

“Not a good time!”  She pulled on the corners of her cape, sending her in a gentle spiral toward one of the shorter rooftops.

The pegasus dove past her, landing on the next roof down.  Apple Bloom veered, diving into a narrow and dimly lit alley.

A pair of hooves wrapped around her belly from behind.  “Huh?” she managed to say before—

WHOOSH!  The pegasus flapped hard, pulling the duo skyward so fast that Apple Bloom’s hat fell off.  She managed to catch it on the tip of a hind hoof and flick it into her forehooves.  She squeezed it tight against the whipping air.  Beneath them, a rainbow trail stretched alongside her own purple and indigo streaks.

Wait… rainbow?

“Rainbow Dash?” Apple Bloom asked.

The pony behind her let go and kicked her in the back.  Apple Bloom shot forward and began to fall.  The lights of the city below were barely bigger than stars.  She pulled her hat over her head and screamed, “Unsung!  We got a major emergency here!”

“What the… where are you?”

“About a thousand feet above Canterlot!”

“Jeez!  What do you want me to do, exactly?”

“Ain’t there some kinda fancy gem in my bag that’ll turn into a trampoline on impact or somethin’?”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“Hey, Mare Do Well!” came from above.  Apple Bloom’s cape flapped around her in free fall, but taking off her hat and using it in her outstretched hoof, she managed to swivel and face the sky.  Finally she looked the pegasus in the face.  Sure enough, Rainbow Dash’s angry eyes glared down into her blank lenses.  “What do you think you’re doing here?”

“Falling to my death!”  She stretched out a tightly wrapped hoof.  “Save me, Rainbow Dash!”

“Ha!  Me?  Save you?  Well, isn’t it funny how the tables turn after all these years!”

“What are you talkin’ about?  I ain’t got nothin’ to do with you!”

“Ha!  Yeah, right!”  She thrust a hoof dramatically.  “You only exist because of me!  If it weren’t for me, you’d be nothing but a—”

“Rainbow, please!  Get a hold o’ yerself!  I am fallin’ to my death!”

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes.  “Ugh!  Okay, fine.”  She angled her wings, swooped below Apple Bloom and, once again, caught her around the middle.  Then, flapping with trained precision, she guided them to another rooftop.  Apple Bloom’s quick eyes identified the area as the Skyport District, where ships from Cloudsdale often brought emergency weather supplies.

Rainbow dropped Apple Bloom onto her side.  She rolled and crouched on padded hooves, her hat sliding to the edge.  She locked in on Rainbow Dash hovering in front of her.  “Rainbow, please!  What’re you gettin’ at here?”

“Who are you?” Rainbow snapped, leaning forward.  “Why Mare Do Well?  Why not make up your own name and costume, huh?  What is this about?  You trying to get me in on this?  Because I know better than to stand up to Twilight at this point.”

Apple Bloom’s mind whirled.  “Whoa, what?  Rainbow, this has nothin’ to do with you anymore.  I’m just usin’ Mare Do Well to make a difference here.”

“Can it, Applejack!” Rainbow screeched, landing hard only inches from Apple Bloom.  Moonlight glistened in a tear at the corner of her eye.  “You can’t fool me!  I know what’s going on here!  You’re just tr-trying to make me feel guilty!  To make me question whether or not I’m really the Element of Loyalty anymore!”

“Whoa, whoa, Rainbow!  Calm down!”  Apple Bloom reached up and pulled down her mask.  “I’m not Applejack.  It’s me, Apple Bloom.”

Rainbow’s ruby irises shrunk.  Her jaw dropped with her haunches.  “Huh?  Apple Bloom?  B-but I thought for sure…”  Her head tilted.  “Wait, then where’s Applejack?”

“Uhhh… Ponyville, I reckon,” Apple Bloom said.  “Honestly I haven’t talked with her in a while.”

“Yeah, well, she’s not in Ponyville,” Rainbow Dash said.  “She disappeared right around the same time Mare Do Well… er, you, I guess… got famous here in Canterlot.  So I figured that, uh… y’know.  She put the mask back on.”

Apple Bloom’s cheeks went cold.  “She’s… gone?  Where’d she go?”

“Well, heck if I know!”  Rainbow took to the air again, hovering angrily over the roof.  “Ugh, I don’t get any of this.  I thought I had it all figured out, but… why the heck are you dressed up like Mare Do Well and beating up bad guys?”

Apple Bloom couldn’t speak.  Her mouth opened and closed several times before any noise came out.  “I’m… but, Applejack?  What happened?”

“Okay, look,” Rainbow said, whacking the flat of her hoof against her forehead, “how about you just start at the beginning.  Which is, uh… well, whenever you think the beginning would be.  I’m sorta super out of the loop.”

“Uhh… well, I guess it all started when I moved to Canterlot.  I got accepted to the School of Art with… Harper Heartstrings.”

“Lyra’s kid?”  Rainbow dropped and curved her back like a cat, groaning.  “Oh, jeez.  You’ve gotten heavy, Bloom.”

Apple Bloom cracked a tiny smile.  “I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”  She twisted her neck with three sharp cracks.  Flicking her tail out of the way, she sat and sighed.  “Okay, tell me everything.  What happened to you and Harper?”

Apple Bloom grit her teeth.  “How much do you know about Canterlot these days?”

“I know Twilight snapped, took over, and sent Celestia and Luna to the Moon.”  She sniffed.  “Anything else I need to know?”

“Yeah.  Her guards kill ponies that don’t like what she’s doin’, and crime has quadrupled since her reign up and started.”


(/\/\)


“Come on, you stupid pony, put the hat back on!” Lyra shouted.  She threw the empty latte cup at the wall and opened her eyes.  “Dang it!  Oh, Bloom, what happened to you?”

There was a knock at her door.  Lyra pursed her lips and galloped into her bathroom, brushing down her wild mane before approaching the front room.  She glanced at the clock in the hall.  It was three in the morning.

She cleared her throat at the front door.  “Who is it?” she asked.

“Are you all right in there, Miss Heartstrings?” asked a young voice.  “I don’t mean to eavesdrop, but… oh, this is Dinky Doo.”

Lyra opened the door.  “Dinky?  What are you doing out this late?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”  She pawed at the ground outside Lyra’s house.  “I have… bad dreams lately.  Anyway, I was just prepping for tomorrow’s deliveries and I heard you yelling.  Are you okay?”

“Oh… yeah.”  Lyra blinked and rubbed her eyes.  “Just, uh… bad dreams, too.”

“Is it about Harper?” Dinky asked.

A lump lodged in Lyra's throat.  “Yeah.  It is.”

Dinky nodded.  “Mine are always about my mom.”  She looked up.  “Is it… is it true what they’re saying in town about Princess Twilight?  And that Ponyville’s cut off from Equestria?”

Lyra sighed.  “Well, I don’t know what’s true and what’s not true, Dinky, but I do know there’s something wrong out there.”

“I wish there was something we could do,” Dinky said.

“You’re doing plenty,” Lyra said with a grin.

Dinky blew through her snout.  “Yeah, right.  I’m just a village mailmare.”

“As good as your mother was.  Better, actually, if you don’t mind me saying it.”

Dinky laughed.  “Well, she had some complications.”

“And she overcame them.  And she raised you.  And she helped everypony in town.”  Lyra tapped Dinky’s chest.  “Now you’re doing the same.  And that’s something, Dinky.  Don’t you ever think it’s not.”

“Thanks, Lyra, but you know that’s not what I mean.”  She looked at the distant Canterlot Mountain bathed in cold Moonlight.  “Delivering Ponyville’s mail isn’t going to fix anything up there.”

“Sometimes its not about fixing things, you know,” Lyra said.  “We just need to play our part.  Sometimes it’s less about what we do, and more about the mantles we don.  And who they come from.”  She put a hoof on Dinky’s shoulder.  “Thanks for checking on me, Dinky.  It’s good to now somepony cares.”

Dinky smiled.

“Go on home and get some sleep,” Lyra continued.  “I’ll try to do the same.”

Dinky nodded.  “Okay.  Thanks, Miss Heartstrings.”

“Sure thing, kid.”

She closed the door while Dinky trotted away, then raced to her bedroom and focused her magic on the distant enchanted hat.  “Come on, Bloom, where are you?”


(/\/\)


“So you’ve already taken out nine of their posts?”  Rainbow asked.

“Well, it’s not all that impressive, but it was enough to get their attention.”  She wiped her brow.  “I reckon they’ve got another fifty or so around the city.  And they’re just one gang.  There are three big names I’ve gotta deal with around here, all on top of the petty crimes happenin’ all over town: The Mangled Marks and their pills, Falcon the Griffon’s gang, and the Gonne, some Itailian mob all about pony traffickin’ and garbage like that.”

“That’s freakin’ awesome!” Rainbow yelled.  “Apple Bloom, you’re a downright superhero!”  She sighed.  “Oh, that is such a relief.  And I thought Silver Medal was out of his mind.”

“Who?”

“My little brother, Silver Medal,” Rainbow Dash said.  “That’s why I came out here, see.  I’ve known Mare Do Well was kicking flank in Canterlot for, like, a month now, and it always rubbed me the wrong way, but when my own little brother took up the vigilante thing in Cloudsdale?  I thought I had to bring it all to an end.”

Apple Bloom’s jaw dropped.  “Wait, what did you say?”

“But now that I know it’s you doing all this, and that you’re doing such a good job… wow!  Haha!”  Rainbow did a quick backflip.  “I’m all giddy or something!  I haven’t been this pumped in years!  You’re making a splash, Apple Bloom.  You could really shake things up around here.”

“Did you say you have a little brother?” Apple Bloom asked.  “I never knew that!”

“Really?”  Rainbow frowned.  “Oh, that’s too bad.  I bet you would have been friends.  He’s your age, or maybe a little younger.”

“What!?”

“He lives with my dad in Cloudsdale.”  Rainbow grinned.  “Oh gosh, this is so cool!”  Her grin suddenly vanished and she leaned close to Apple Bloom.  “But hold on, what’s the goal here, huh?  What’s the big finale?”

Apple Bloom floundered for a moment.  “I just wanna get to Twilight.”

“Soooo… what’s with bringing down the Mangy Marks and all that?”

“Mangled Marks.  I can’t just burst into the castle and fight an Alicorn.  I’m just an earth pony.  I’m remindin’ Canterlot of what she used to be, what she still can be.  I want the ponies themselves to stand up to Twilight.  She’ll… she’ll change if the city does.”

Rainbow Dash squinted.  “You sure about that?”

“Well, no.”  Apple Bloom pulled her mask back up and tucked her mane away.  “But I’m just doin’ what I can.  I can’t make Twilight’s choices for her, but I can save innocent ponies from sufferin’ under her rule.”

Rainbow nodded.  “That’s cool, Apple Bloom.  I like that.”  She took a deep breath.  “Okay, fine, I’ll help.  And I’ll get Silver Medal to come and help, too.”

“Huh?”

“Besides, if we’re being honest, he’s not nearly as cool as you are right now.  So he could probably use a few superhero pointers.”

“No, Rainbow, I can’t—”

“First we’re gonna need a plan.  No more of this post-by-post business.  Nine a month won’t cut it.  We gotta go straight to the top.”

Apple Bloom trotted to her hat.  “Rainbow, I’ve already got a plan, and I don’t think you can—”

“Once we find out who’s running the Mangled Marks, we’ll take ‘em out and send ‘em packing!  Then we’ll find that griffon dude and whamo!  Show him what for!”

“Rainbow, I can do this by myse—”

Apple Bloom put on her hat and her mind was met with “—IF YOU DON’T ANSWER ME IN FIVE SECONDS I’M GONNA—”

“Gah!  Lyra, calm down!” she yelled, grabbing her skull between her hooves.

Rainbow tilted her head.  “Lyra?  Lyra Heartstrings?”

Lyra gasped.  “Bloom, you’re alive!  Oh, thank Celestia!”  Her voice instantly took on a much harsher tone.  “What the hay happened?  And what have I told you a thousand times about using my real name?  Who is that?  What the… is that Rainbow Dash?”

“Yeah, it’s Rainbow.”

“Huh?  What’s me?”

“Wow, look at that!  I haven’t seen Rainbow Dash in ages.  She looks dang good, hasn’t aged a day.  Hi, Rainbow!”

“She can’t hear you, Lyra.”

“Is Lyra here?”  Rainbow looked around.  “I’m confused.”

“Lyra’s talking to me in my head,” Apple Bloom said, tapping the top of her hat.

Rainbow blinked and backed away.  “Okay, yeah… that’s not crazy at all.”

“No, I mean in my hat.”  Apple Bloom groaned.  “I mean, she put a spell on my hat so she can talk to me from Ponyville and see what I’m seein’ during these… crusades.”  She couldn’t help but a smirk a little at the term.

“Oh, cool.  Hi, Lyra!” Rainbow said, waving at Apple Bloom’s eyes.  “Wow, I forget how cool magic is flying around with pegasi all the time.”

“Tell her hi,” Lyra said.  “And to call me Unsung.”

“Lyra says hi,” Apple Bloom muttered.  “Look, Rainbow, I’m glad you’re supportive of all this, but I can’t let you join in, and I certainly can’t let you send your little brother.  If he wants to protect Cloudsdale, that’s his business, but…”  She trailed off and her tail went limp.  “Wait… Rainbow, what’s in like in Cloudsdale?”

“Uhh… pretty much like this,” she said, gesturing to the city below.  “I mean, there’s a lot of differences, obviously, because of the whole ‘in the sky’ thing, but… there’s more crime there than I’ve seen in all my life.  Ponies just don’t seem to care as much anymore.  They don’t really talk to each other or trust each other.  It’s all… I dunno, dark.”

Apple Bloom’s heart beat harder.  “And other cities?  Do you know anythin’ about, I dunno, Manehattan?  Trottingham?”

“As far as I know, Apple Bloom, all of Equestria is like this now,” Rainbow Dash said with a shrug.  “Ponies stopped looking for friendship and started looking for power.”

“Without harmony, the world turns to solos,” Lyra said.  “Unfortunately, the loudest are often out of key.”

“I didn’t know,” Apple Bloom said.  “I thought…”

Lyra shifted.  Her face showed concern even as her eyes stayed closed.  “Apple Bloom, listen—I just talked to Dinky Doo not too long ago.  I told her she didn’t have to worry about anything out of her control.  She just needs to do what she can, and she’ll—”

“You’re doing a great job here, Apple Bloom, but—”

“Shh, Rainbow, Lyra’s talkin’ to me,” Apple Bloom said, turning away.

“Oh, sorry.”  Rainbow pulled in her lips.

“What I’m saying,” Lyra continued in a lower voice, “Is that all you can worry about is what’s in your control.  Don’t think about Manehattan or Cloudsdale or anything else.  If those cities need a hero, they’ll get one.  I told Dinky, it’s not so much important how far we can reach, but what we do with the mantles we don.”  She smiled.  “Actually I said something different, but that sounds a lot better.  You’ve chosen to protect Canterlot as Mare Do Well.  Stick with that, and you’ll make a difference.  You’ve already made a difference.  I know it.”

Apple Bloom sighed.  “Thanks, Lyra.  I’ll do my best.”

“You always do, kid.”

“She done?” Rainbow asked.  “What did she say?”

“She told me not to worry about what’s not in my control,” she said.  “All I can do is stick with my choice and protect Canterlot.”

“Bingo,” Rainbow said, grinning.  “And all I can do is help.”

“You can’t—”

“Ah-ah-ah!  No use, Bloom.  I’m in now.  You said you had a plan?”

“Look, Rainbow,” Apple Bloom started.

“The plan, Bloom!  We don’t have all night!”

Apple Bloom laughed a sleepy laugh.  “I’m done fer tonight, Rainbow.  I’m headed home.  You should do the same.”  She turned to leap from the roof, but quickly said, “Meet me back here tomorrow night after Sunset.  We’ll talk about the plan.”

“Aye aye!”  Rainbow jumped into the air, saluted, and soared away.  Apple Bloom jumped off the roof and pulled at her cape, gliding to an alley below.

“Looks like things are gonna get interesting,” Lyra said, yawning.

“That’s one way to put it,” Apple Bloom said.  “All I know, if I know Rainbow Dash, is that things are about to get fast.”


(/\/\)


Roots quivered and kept his forehead pressed against the ground.

"And she just... gave it to you?" a hooded stallion asked.  "Without hurting you at all?"

"Sh-she hurt my hoof a little bit—"

A sickly thin, dauntingly tall black pegasus smacked Roots over the back of the head.

He screamed and whimpered, shivers doubling.  "She was gonna break my ribs!  She just told me to deliver this to you and disappeared!  I swear!  She left it on Macaroni's body!  That's it, that's all I know, that's all that happened, oh Luna please..."

The hooded pony stared at the silvery envelope in his grasp.  He was quiet for a long moment and then tossed it on the floor in front of Roots.  "You open it," he said.

"No!"  Roots began to squirm away, but another kick from the black pegasus stopped him.

"Open it," his leader commanded.  "If you're not dead then, you can hoof it to me."

"Please, please, I don't wanna—"

"Open the envelope or we will kill you ourselves," he said.  His voice was calm around the terrifying words.  "Your only chance to live is if the envelope is safe.  In your favor, the mare has yet to kill anypony.  Perhaps you'll be the first, but we both know it cannot be me."

Roots sobbed and nodded.  He reached a trembling hoof forward and pulled the silver enveloped towards him as if it were poison.  He slowly raised himself to his haunches and dared a glance at the brooding black pegasus waiting at his side.  After another wave of shivers, Roots carefully used the edge of his hoof to peel open the lip of the envelope, clenching his teeth and turning his face away.  In a quick motion, like ripping off a bandage, he screamed and opened the letter completely, letting a folded paper drop the floor.  The hooded stallion and the black pegasus stepped back, but nothing else happened.

Roots looked down at the paper and began to giggle.

"Read it," his leader said.

Still laughing, Roots lifted the paper and unfolded it twice.  His eyes scanned its words as his laughter only increased.

"Oh, shut him up," the leader growled.  One punch to the jaw sent Roots silent to the ground, and the black pony lifted the note in his slender hooves.  Without taking a glance at it, he hoofed the paper to his boss and watched with cold white eyes.

He took the paper in a white aura of magic and stared at it.  "It's just a... drawing of the Canterlot Cemetery."  He threw the paper to the ground and whipped around.  His cloak billowed as he stormed to the far end of the room.  "What is this?  What is she trying to say?  Is it a warning?  Is that where I'm supposed to end up?"

He paused, then stared at the paper from a distance.  "Or perhaps she's telling me where to find her."  He began to chuckle and pulled the paper to him with his magic.  "Ahhh... she's drawn the full Moon.  She wants a meeting in the cemetery one week from now.  Heheheh... how convenient.  You won't need to go far to dispose of the body."
> 11 - At the Right Time
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


CHAPTER ELEVEN
AT THE RIGHT TIME




Sweetie Belle sat up with a jolt.  Apple Bloom gasped and shook her head.  “Sweetie!  It’s just me.”

“Oh, Apple Bloom,” Sweetie Belle said, brushing her mane from her eyes and untwisting her sheets.  “Gosh, you scared me.”

Apple Bloom slid a box under her own bed on the other side of the room and leaned against the raised mattress.  “Yeah, back atcha.  Sorry fer comin’ in so late.”

“What time is it?”

“Prob’ly four in the mornin’.  Close to that, anyway.”

“Jeez, you’re out there longer every night.”  Sweetie yawned and rubbed her cheek.  “Hey, Bloom.  Somepony came by looking for you today.”

“Oh yeah?  Who?”

Sweetie was quiet for a moment.  “The police.”

Apple Bloom leapt across the room and stared Sweetie straight in the eyes.  “What!?  What’d they say?  What did you say?”

“Eep!”  Sweetie let her mane fall over her face.  “All they wanted to know was if you still lived here.”

“And what did you tell ‘em?”

“The truth.”

“Sweetie Belle!”

“No, wait, listen!”  Sweetie was wide awake now, pushing her bangs up between her ears and meeting Apple Bloom’s glare with innocent eyes.  “You told me that somepony saw you  on the train to Ponyville, remember?  So I figured maybe they were going through and finding any students who went missing from campus and it was actually less suspicious to tell them you just dropped out and stuck around and are looking for a job instead of saying that you just vanished, because then they might put two and two together and figure out you’re Mare Do Well and—”  She ended abruptly and bit her lip.  “Are you mad at me?”

Apple Bloom sighed and pressed a hoof against her forehead.  “No, Sweetie, I ain’t mad.  I think you’re right, it’s better they think I’ve just stuck around all this time.”  She turned around and stumbled to her bed, slinking noiselessly under the covers.  “Are they gonna come back?”

“Maybe… they didn’t say.”  Sweetie’s head hit her pillow hard.  “Oh, gosh, I hope I didn’t ruin everything.”

Apple Bloom laughed.  “No, Sweetie, you’re right.  Don’t worry none.  I need a better alibi than a student who just vanished but stuck around town lookin’ fer a job.”  She closed her eyes.  “Maybe it’d be best if I went back to school next semester.  When does this one end?”

“Uh… we have another month or so, I think,” Sweetie said.

“If I can bring down the Mangled Marks by the time this semester ends, I’ll look into comin’ back to school.  That might ease some minds, at least.”

“Are you… close?” Sweetie whispered.  “I mean, do you really think you can do that?”

“Yeah,” Apple Bloom said, smiling.  “With a little help from my friends.”

Sweetie Belle gasped quietly.  “Have you finally thought of something I can do to help?”

“Yeah,” Apple Bloom said through a yawn, “but I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.  There’re some… new developments I wasn’t expectin'.  I think we can use it all to our advantage, but—yaaaawwww—I gotta sleep on it.”

“Ugh.  Can you at least tell me what I get to do?”

“It’ll be more’n a mite dangerous.  I’ll have to really think it through, make sure nopony gets hurt.”

“Hurt from what?  What do you need?  Come on, Bloom, I gotta prep for this kinda stuff!  Not everypony’s a secret ninja, for peat’s sake.”

Apple Bloom chuckled.  “Let’s just hope it runs in the family.”

“Hope what runs in the family?”

Her only response was Apple Bloom’s gentle snores.


(/\/\)


A griffon dove, smashing through the outskirts of Cloudsdale’s foundational stratocumulus clouds.  He clutched the metal pan holding an unbroken sheet of crystal sap in his talons, looking over each shoulder in quick succession for his small assailant.

“Did I lose ya, pony?” he said under his breath, grinning with the unscarred corner of his beak.

“Nope,” came a voice from below.  The griffon looked down in fright.  The pony was upside down, all four hooves snaking around the tray.  With a snap of his wings, the pony yanked the sap from the griffon’s grasp and seemed to vanish.  The griffon roared and pumped his mighty wings in an attempt to turn around.

“Too slow,” whispered the pony.  The griffon lashed out a claw to catch the pony behind him, but suddenly it was in front of him.

“You puny… stop that!”  The griffon thrashed about wildly, but the pegasus dove and swept around him like a hummingbird.  “Raaaurgh!  That’s impossible!  No pony can fly that fast!”

“Buddy, you should see my sister,” the stallion said, suddenly directly above the griffon.  The large creature looked up.  

“Good night.”

BAM!  A flat hoof between the eyes disoriented the griffon enough for the pegasus to raise the sheet of freshly cooked drugs above his head and slam it against the back of its skull.  The griffon began its long fall to Equestrian forests below.  The stallion snatched a shattered piece of crystal sap from the air and let the rest of it fall with the tray.  “Where is this stuff coming from?” he asked.

The horizon turned pink with the first hints of Sunrise.  Silver Medal frowned in its direction.  “Aw, come on!  Really?”  He grunted and tucked the shard of cooked sap into the pockets around his core.  “I swear, Princess Twilight must be raising the Sun earlier just to throw me off my groove.”

A gust of wind blasted Silver Medal from behind.  He yelped and tumbled forward through the air, turning around as quickly as he could.  The massive, scarred griffon flapped steadily in place, one eye closed in pain.  His beak was partially open, revealing a menacing row of sharp, clenched teeth.

“You break into my lab,” the griffon growled, flapping slowly with one hot eye trained on Silver Medal, “incapacitate my hired hooves, destroy most of my equipment, chase me through the entire city, destroy my hard-earned product over my own head, and then leave me to fall to my death!?”  With a powerful flap, he rose above Silver Medal and spread his wings, baring his crooked claws at his sides.  “What sort of a hero do you think you are, pony?”

“Why do griffons have teeth?” Silver Medal asked, crossing his hooves over his chest as if in deep thought.  “Is that the lion part of you?  Because birds don’t have teeth.”  He chuckled and added while waving a hoof, “It’s just kinda weird, y’know, seeing teeth inside a beak like that.”

“It’s to rip your flesh to bleeding shreds!” the griffon shrieked, diving at his would-be prey.

But Silver Medal moved out of the way with a minute flick of his wings.  The griffon pulled up and turned around, glowing with anger.

“You weren’t falling to your death, anyway,” Silver Medal said, rolling his eyes.  “Look at you!  You’re five hundred pounds of muscle and natural armor, inside and out.  Those trees would have broken a few bones at best.”

“I’ll break your bones to make my bread!”  The griffon charged again and clutched at open air.

“Shouldn’t that be grind your bones?  Broken-bone-bread sounds dangerous, dude.”

“Gaaaaahhh!”

Another charge, another fruitless swipe, another taunt.  “Do carnivores even eat bread?  Well, yeah, I guess you could make a sandwich or something.  Ew, meat on a sandwich.  That’s just wrong.”

“Hold still, you slimy—”  The griffon lifted his wings for another flap, but howled when the joints were punched by swift hooves.

“Hiya!  Heeheehee!  Take that, Beaky!”  Silver Medal twisted in the air, biting the end of the griffon’s tail and yanking it hard.  The beast squeaked and thrust out a lion paw.  It hit Silver Medal on the side of his snout, pushing him away from the griffon and spiraling a few times.

“You don’t know who you have angered, pony,” the griffon said.  He flew to Silver Medal and finally caught the stallion by the throat.

“Oh yeah I do,” he choked, grinning nonetheless.  “And I’m gonna be the pony who singlehoofedly took down Falcon himself.”

The griffon shook his head and blinked in surprise.  He pointed to himself with his free claw.  “You… you think I’m Falcon?”  He began to laugh, softly at first, each guffaw tightening the grip around Silver Medal’s cracking neck.  “Ha ha ha haaaa!  You think that I am Falcon the Griffon?”

He pulled Silver Medal’s face close to his own.  His mane hairs twitched in the wind of the griffon’s constant flaps as a single, murky brown eye seared into a nervous, bright blue pair.

“You will not bring me down, pony,” the griffon jeered through one side of his beak, “and you will never lay a hoof on the majesty of Falcon.”

“That’s gross, bro,” Silver croaked.  “I didn’t wanna touch him down there anyway.”

“Gaaaaahhh!”  The griffon pulled back a claw full of talons and aimed them at Silver Medal’s exposed chest.  Continuing his battle cry, he thrust the claws against Silver’s suit and squeezed.

The shiny material around his chest buckled under the griffon’s strength, but the claws did not pierce.  Surprised at the strange substance in his grasp, the griffon gave just enough time for Silver Medal to lift a limber hind leg and kick him square in the beak.  The beast cried out in pain and released Silver’s throat.  He then dove, picked up momentum in a large but tight circle, and ran the front length of his wing along the griffon’s meaty thigh.

A high pitched howl shook the air beneath Cloudsdale and griffon blood dripped from the open wound stretched through his fur.  “What did you do?” he cried.

“What, you’ve never seen blood before?” Silver asked.  “That’s the stuff that keeps you alive, buddy.  And I’m making it go bye-bye.”

“How…?”  The griffon’s eye chased Silver through the air, finally taking notice of the pony’s criss-crossing outfit.  The armor covered all of his chest and back, then spiraled along his limbs, exposing the graham colored coat beneath.  The silvery suit stretched along the fronts of his wings as well, leaving the feathers exposed while covering the joint and bone in—

“Blades…”

“I call ‘em razors,” said Silver Medal, pretending to tip a hat.  “Pleasure to meet you.  I’m Razorwing.”

The griffon snorted.  “That’s a stupid name.”

Silver Medal’s jaw dropped.  “Hey!  That’s rude!”  He jetted forward, using his wings to cut into the flesh above the griffon’s claws.  

He shrieked again and pulled away, trying to fly higher.

“Once you heal up and come back to Cloudsdale,” Silver Medal shouted in close pursuit, “tell all your friends that Razorwing is on the hunt, and it’s Falcon season.”

He pushed forward, spun quickly with wings outstretched, and sliced into the griffon’s own feathered appendages.  Too injured to fly, too shocked to scream, the griffon’s eyes both opened wide and locked on Silver Medal as he began to fall again.

“If there are any friends left at that point, of course,” the pony said with a wry smile.  He waved as the bleeding griffon plummeted into the distant trees below.  The smile vanished.  “Dang it.  I thought for sure a bird that big would be the boss.”

He shook his head, turned skyward, and rocketed through the layer of clouds that supported Cloudsdale’s outer districts.  The fluff cleaned the blood from the blades along his wings and he burst through the top like a dolphin aiming for a hoop.

“Well, whatever,” he said to himself.  “A job well done, Razorwing.  That’s one lab discontinued, one mini-boss defeated, and one shard of pre-crushed powder to analyze… somehow.”

He patted the piece in the pocket of his armor and his hoof brushed against the crumpled clawmarks.  “Oh, shoot… and I need a repair.  Crap, that’s gonna be expensive.”  He glanced down at the pocket.  “Maybe I can just sell the… no, no, that’s stupid.  Totally defeats the point.”

He flew home, talking to himself intermittently, commenting on the stupidity of cloud-based graffiti and the beauty of the sunrise.  Quieting completely upon reaching his family’s large apartment, Silver Medal gently slid open the window to his room and flew in.  He shut the window behind him, made sure no one could peek through the blinds, and tried to shed his armor.  Damaged as it was, it proved difficult to take off of his chest.

“Dang it… stupid…” he muttered, wrestling with the metal.  It slid a little around his neck, but a twisted piece cut into his chest.  “Youch!”

“What’s the point—”

“AH!”

“—of closing the window all quiet if you’re just gonna yell and scream taking your clothes off?”

“Rainbow Dash!”  Silver Medal spun around and glared at his sister leaning against the bedroom door.  “How did you get in here?”

She smirked and raised an eyebrow at him.  “Youuu left the window open?”

“Oh… right.”

“Guess that means you’re pretty confident that nopony knows it’s you out there,” Rainbow said, spreading her left wing and glancing it over.  “Pretty bold move, seeing as your mane isn’t even covered.”

He glanced in the mirror and checked his windswept, periwinkle mane above the silver mask that protected his snout, eyes, and forehead.  Truth be told, all of his colors were clearly visible behind his armor.  His golden coat looked great between the silver spirals on his legs, and his sky blue eyes were never brighter.

“Yeah, well, it’s a good thing I don’t have all that many friends out there, then,” he said.  He slid off the armor from all four of his legs and unlatched the blades from his wings.

“Yeesh, those look like they could do some damage,” Rainbow said, grimacing.

“You bet.”  Silver Medal beamed and fit all the removed armor into a box on the ground.  He returned to the stubborn chest piece and yelped again when the pain in his chest sharpened.

“Need help?” Rainbow asked.

Silver Medal sighed.  “Yeah.  This part here got crushed and it’s poking me pretty hard.”

“Crushed?”  Rainbow trotted to him and lowered her head to his chest.  “Holy smokes, Silver!  How did that happen?”

“I, uh… got in a fight.”

“With a freaking dragon?”

“Griffon, actually.”

“Whoa!”  Rainbow leapt back and looked her brother over as if for the first time.  “You fought a full-grown griffon?”

“Yeah.”

“And… did you win?”

Silver grinned.  “Yeah.  He’s somewhere down in the Everfree bandaging up as we speak.”

Something like a smile flashed across Rainbow’s face, but then her expression hardened and she stomped a hoof.  “Silver, you’ve gotta stop this vigilante nonsense!  You’re gonna get yourself killed, and then what’s Dad gonna do, huh?”

“Oh, so you wouldn’t care if I died, but you’re worried how Dad would take it?  Thanks, Rainy Day.”

“Don’t call me that.  Hasn’t Dad already been through enough?”

“We’ve all been through a lot, and personally I’d like to make it through the Battle of the Broken Armor.  Would you please help me?”

Rainbow pushed her lips to one side.  “For a favor.”

“Ugh!  I’ll just do it myself.”

Rainbow laughed.  “It’s a good favor!  You’ll like it.”

“…okay, fine.”

They worked together, pushing and pulling and squeezing at just the right angles, until Silver Medal managed to slip out one end of the chest piece.  His sternum was bleeding a little where the metal had scraped him, so he opened a drawer and began to clean up while Rainbow explained her favor.

“I need you to come to Canterlot with me,” Rainbow Dash said.  “Tonight.”

He dabbed a bit of alcohol on the cut.  “Hngh… what?  Why?”

“Do you wanna be a superhero or not?”

Silver rolled his eyes.  “I’m not a superhero, Dash.  I’m just trying to help improve the lives of these pegasi.”

“How would you like to help unicorns, too?”

He looked at her sideways.

“And earth ponies.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Why’d you start doing this, Silver?”

He ripped off a bandage and stuck it over the cut.  “Lots of reasons.”

“Tell me ‘em.”

“Why?  So you can tell me they’re stupid and dangerous?”

“Just tell me.  I’ll listen.”

Silver closed his eyes and sighed.  “Well, first of all, like you said, Dad’s been hurt more than once by all this crime that’s popped up since your friend took over the country.”

“She’s not my....”  Rainbow shut up.

“So I was already angry.  Then I started looking into it and realized that this one group, this Falcon the Griffon guy’s big gang, was basically running the whole city, getting money with drugs and buying out whatever they wanted, including the police.  And nopony seemed to be doing anything.  They were all just letting it happen.”  He sighed again, rougher.  “That’s just not right, y’know?  You don’t just stand by with that kind of crap.”

“Right.”

“And then somepony didn’t,” he said with a grin.  “Over in Canterlot, somepony rose up.  That was so inspiring.  I’ve never felt like I did when I heard about Mare Do Well.  So I made this.”  He kicked the broken chest piece on the ground.  “I guess my special talent came in hoofy after all.”

Rainbow looked at the silvery-blue anvil on his flank.  “Guess so.  I wondered about that, to be honest.”

Silver laughed.  “Yeah.  Me, too.”

Rainbow cracked her neck.  “Well, whattaya say to this, then, Silver Boy: Let’s go to Canterlot tonight and meet Mare Do Well.”

Silver Medal snapped to full alert.  “What?  Are you serious?”

“Yessir.  I met her tonight.  Er…”  She opened the blinds to the brightening sky.  “Last night.  And she needs our help.”

“No way!”  Silver jumped up and hovered in place.  “Are you freaking serious!?”

“Heck yeah!  She needs our help taking down this gang called the Marble Marks or something.”

Silver’s smile slowly faded as he drifted to the floor.  “I can’t, Rainbow.  I’ve gotta find another job so I can save up enough to fix this armor.  I’d be useless without it.”

“How long would it take if you had all the bits?”

He bent low and checked the dents.  “Oh, I could get it done in a day easy.”

“How much would it cost?”

He opened his mouth to answer but Rainbow waved it off.

“Look, I don’t even care, I’m freaking loaded.  I’ll pay for your repairs if you agree to come with me tonight.”

“Ha!”  Silver Medal squinted incredulously.  “What’s gotten into you, Rainy Day?  I thought you were against all this vigilante nonsense.”

“Well, that was a joke when I said it earlier,” Rainbow explained, tossing her mane.  “But honestly it was Mare Do Well that changed my mind.  I went over there to give her a piece of it—my mind, y’know—but she was actually really impressive.  She knows what she’s doing.  I think.”

“You think?”

Rainbow grinned.  “Well, she’s unfolding her big plan to us tonight.  So whattaya say, bro?  Is Silver Medal ready to help the Mysterious Mare Do Well?”

He picked up the chest piece and spun it around his hoof.  “No.  But Razorwing is.”


(/\/\)


“Rainbow has a little brother?” asked Lyra.

“She said so last night,” Apple Bloom said with a shrug.  She adjusted her hat.

“Are you sure Rainbow will remember which building you met on?  You’re kinda hard to see in the dark.”

“I know.  But she ain’t.”  Apple Bloom looked up and pointed to a rainbow streak painting the sky in her direction.  Beside it was another stream of colors—silver and gold.

“Is that somepony with her?”

“Looks like it.”  Apple Bloom cleared her throat.  “Think I should use the accent?”

Lyra laughed.  “Uh, which one?”

“My Mare Do Well voice,” she said, “or is this colt gonna need to know it’s me?”

“Maybe Rainbow Dash already told him,” Lyra said.  “Disguise your voice for now.  If Rainbow says anything, you can probably trust him.  What’s his name?”

“I think she said Silver Medal.”

“Wow.  That’s kind of rude.”

“Huh?”

Lyra snorted.  “You don’t have a kid like Rainbow Dash and then name your next kid Silver Medal.  It’s like reminding him for the rest of his life that he’s not as good as her.”

“Jee.  I didn’t think of it like that.”  She watched the duo land on a rooftop closer to the docks.  “All right, I’ll move to them.”

She began to turn the pedals of the Wishing Well.  The black blades above spun quickly and quietly while the craft rose off the ground.  She leaned forward, left, and used the levels in her forehooves to guide the craft to the pegasi.  Her ears tuned in to their conversation before she was noticed.

“So who is she?” asked Silver Medal.  His voice was low, but scratchy like Rainbow’s.

“I dunno.  Just a mare trying to save the world or whatever,” Rainbow replied, glancing around.  She bounced her front hooves against the ground.

“You nervous?” asked her brother.

“Excited!  I haven’t had any adventures in, like… forever.”

“We’re just gonna talk, aren’t we?”

“I dunno!  Depends on her plan!  Maybe she’ll ask us to go storm the palace and—”

“Assassinate the Princess?” Apple Bloom finished in her dark Canterlotian accent.

The pegasi whipped around, startled.  “How did you—”

“I do not know the Princess’ motives behind her violence,” Mare Do Well continued, “but her regime has proven deadly.  Storming the castle would be suicide.”

“Wow, it’s Mare Do Well!” Silver Medal rattled off.  “I'm such a big fan.”

“I wasn’t gonna say assassinate Twilight,” Rainbow snapped.  “Besides, you can’t kill an Alicorn.”

“But you can change them,” Mare Do Well breathed.

“Or send them away, which seems to be a popular option,” Rainbow Dash said.  “Anyway, I thought we were here to talk about the Mushroom Marks, not the Evil Princess of Dusk.”

“Mangled Marks,” Mare Do Well corrected.  “We’re here to discuss a plan I’ve already set into motion.  Stopping the gangs is the key to inspiring an uprising among the citizens of Canterlot itself.  I can do it by myself if you choose not to join me, but your help would greatly increase our odds of success.”

“Oh, heck yeah.  You talk like a comic book.  Count me in!”  Silver Medal saluted.  “It really is an honor to meet you, ma’am.”

“Ma’am?” repeated Lyra, snickering into Apple Bloom’s brain.

“So what is this big scary plan of yours, anyway?” Rainbow asked.

Mare Do Well tilted her head.  “You seem edgy.”

“I don’t like being snuck up on,” Rainbow said.  She craned her neck to look beyond the hat and cape.  “How did you do that, anyway?  You don’t even have wings.”

“You don’t need wings to fly,” Mare Do Well said.

There was a heavy silence in the air as Rainbow waited for her to go on.  “That’s it?” she finally said.  Taking a quick glance at her brother, she gave a frustrated wink to Apple Bloom and added, “What, is that supposed to be some kinda cryptic—”

MMMMMMRRRRRRRP.  A fog horn sent all three ponies into a crouch.  They snuck together to the edge of the roof closest to the docks and peeked down.  A huge blimp was sinking toward one of the mountainside docks were a dozen ponies waited.

“They look like insects from up here,” Lyra said.  “Can you see anything I can’t, Bloom?”

Mare Do Well scanned the scene.  When the blimp was close enough, ropes were thrown from its hull to the ponies at the dock.  Several of them grabbed the ends, some with magic and others in hoof, and anchored the blimp with several knots along the sides.

“Unicorns and earth ponies,” Mare Do Well noted.  “I don’t see any pegasi.”

“Me, neither,” said Rainbow.  “What in the world are they doing out here so late?”

“Could just be a late shipment,” Silver Medal whispered.

“Could be,” Mare Do Well said.  She squinted, watchful.  “It seems rather dark down there.”

“Apple Bloom, look at the blimp,” directed Lyra.  She did.  “No logo.  Have you ever seen that?”

“No,” she answered.

Silver Medal turned to her.  “No what?”

“No logo,” she said.  “This isn’t right.  Something’s up.”

“Sweet!” Rainbow squealed.

“What should I call you?” asked Mare Do Well, her blank face turned toward Silver Medal.

“Razorwing,” he answered.  He spread his wings, revealing thin, jointed blades that stretched along their fronts.

“Whoa.”  Behind her mask, Mare Do Well’s eyes grew wide.  “Do you… use those?”

“Uh, yeah, duh.”  He tucked his wings back at his sides and smirked.  “But I don’t kill, I promise.  I’m careful.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“About as long as you.”

Mare Do Well was quiet.  She turned back to the docks.  “Good enough.”

“Okay Bloooooo…ue eyed hat wearer,” Rainbow slurred, “what’s the plan?”

“We need to get down there and figure out what’s going on.  Maybe it’s nothing.  Better safe than sorry.”  She pointed at Rainbow.  “You don’t go anywhere.”

“What!?  Why not?”

“Because you’re too bright.  They’ll see you.”

Rainbow threw both hooves toward her brother.  “He’s wearing silver all over his body!”

“It’s not silver,” Razorwing said, “and it doesn’t shine if there’s no light on it.  Look over there—they’ve turned off every light in the Skyport District to bring this sucker in.”

“That’s suspicious,” Rainbow said.  “Okay, fine, I’ll stay here and watch.  If there’s trouble I’ll dive in and help.”

“That’s fine.  Razorwing, you go up to the blimp and see if you can tell what they’re importing.  I’ll listen to the ponies on the ground.  If either of us notice something awry, we’ll signal to Rainbow Dash.”  She turned to the older mare.  “Rainbow, watch us closely.  If either of us signal to you, take off.  Once you’re airborne, we’ll know it’s time to take these guys out.”

Razorwing’s feathers twitched.  “And if it’s just some… I dunno, late night doughnut shipment?” he asked.

“Then we don’t signal to Rainbow, she doesn’t take off, and we meet back here,” said Mare Do Well.  “And then we discuss the Mangled Marks.”

“If that plan is anything like this one, you can count me in.”  Razorwing flashed a smile and took off, flying far out from the mountain and behind the blimp before turning and disappearing from view.

“Why aren’t we telling him who I am?” Mare Do Well asked Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow shrugged.  “I dunno.  I wasn’t sure if you wanted him to know, and you went along with the secret thing, so… I dunno.”

“I like it,” said Apple Bloom, and she jumped from the roof.

The wind licked and pushed at the brim of her hat as she pulled taut the corners of her cape.  She steered carefully and landed without a noise in the alleyways nearest the dock.  She counted twelve ponies, ten facing the slowly descending blimp, two more guarding the front of the wide wooden platform.  Both were unicorns.  One of them was a mare.

“Distract them,” said Unsung.

Mare Do Well removed a white stone from the pouches at her waist.  She smashed it hard against the ground—the enchantment activated, and the rock disappeared.

“Invisible stones,” Mare Do Well said, shaking her head.  “Why in the world do you even have these?”

“Just throw it.”

She did, tossing it up and using her back legs to buck it through the air.  It arced between the guarding ponies and thunked the deck behind them.  They both spun around.  The mare opened her mouth to call out for the ponies at the other end of the dock, but a pair of hooves wrapped around her neck and mouth.  With a quick jolt, the unicorn mare fell unconscious and dropped to the wood.

The stallion was already out cold.  Mare Do Well picked up the blunt M-shaped shuriken lying by his head.

“We’d better hope these ponies are up to no good,” Mare Do Well whispered, “or I just knocked out two innocent traders.”

“Believe me,” Unsung answered, “we’re gonna see Rainbow’s signal any second here.”

Mare Do Well crept along the edge of the dock.  The platform stuck out from the mountainside, supported by long wooden beams.  She dropped over the edge and scurried along the beams like a squirrel, keeping close to the platform but entirely unseen.

“This is taking forever.  We’re gonna get caught,” she heard one stallion say.

“Nopony knows we’re out here,” a mare answered.  “We’ll get this to Base Six by midnight.”

Lyra heard it, too.  “Did you hear that, Bloom?  Base Six.  Base Eight is where we took out all those Mangled Marks last month.  Sounds like it’s our lucky night.  Right place at the right time.”

Mare Do Well grunted and kept listening, scaling the intertwining beams around the outside-front of the dock so that she was hanging directly under the blimp.

“How many bases do you Marks have, anyway?”

“We used to have eight.  One of ‘em was compromised.”

“Shut up, Arbor!  You think these creeps need to know that?”

A chuckle.  “Hey, no need to be hostile, Missy.”

Quick hoofsteps.  “Look, I don’t know what our boss is trying to accomplish teaming up with your Satin and her cronies, but this is not a permanent union and we don’t have to pretend to like each other for one second.”

“I’m not pretending anything, Sweet Cheeks.”

“Oh, shut up!”

“I wouldn’t have to give you all these nicknames if you’d just tell me what to call you.”

“You can call me disgusted!  Rrrgh, why are you Gonne always such creeps?”

“Go-nay,” Unsung repeated.  “Isn’t that the third gang you learned about from the rooftop interrogation?”

Mare Do Well nodded.

“Bloom, we hit the jackpot!”  Unsung squealed.  “This group has been totally elusive until now!  We gotta get more information on this Satin character from one of them.”

Mare Do Well raised a hoof to climb over the edge, but hesitated.

“Oh, right, Rainbow Dash,” Unsung said.  “Get to the corner and wave at her.”

Too quickly, Mare Do Well began to shuffle right.  Her back hoof slipped and for one horrible moment she started to fall.  Her wrapped up forehooves caught the beams, but the resulting jolt forced her to look down.

From there it seemed there was no mountain at all, that the entire city was floating thousands of feet above solid ground.  Unsung eeped and Mare Do Well could hear her waving her hooves about wildly.

“Don’t look down!  Climb over, Bloom, you’re fine!  Just get over to where Rainbow Dash can see you and make some sort of signal.  Hooooooly horseapples, that was close…”

Mare Do Well gulped, adjusted her grip, and climbed around the corner of the dock much slower.  When her eyes found the buildings along the edge of the Skyport District, they immediately flicked upward and followed the fading streak of a colorful—

“She already took off!” Unsung shouted.  “Go, Bloom, go go go!”

Mare Do Well kicked hard straight down, throwing her body high above the platform.  The frightened eyes of punkish Mangled Marks and business-suited Gonne found the emblem on her chest and sucked in a collective gasp.  Mare Do Well angled herself at the closest mare and stretched out her cape, diving like a bird of prey and smashing into the pony’s neck before she could even scream.

The two tumbled along the wood.  Mare Do Well leapt out of the roll and directly onto a suited stallion’s back.  Two hard punches between his ears dropped the pony to his side.  Mare Do Well jumped off him mid-fall and was met by a blast of magic.

She slammed into the ground, bouncing up quickly and crouching to gather her senses.  Eight left.

“How many unicorns?” she asked Unsung under her breath.

“I’ll count, you fight,” she answered.  “Get—”

She was interrupted by a streak of bright color.  Three of the ponies were suddenly gone, replaced by a zig-zagging rainbow.  The remaining five panicked, running in place or yelling up to the blimp.

“Two unicorns!” Unsung yelled.  “Both to your left!”

Mare Do Well sprung, galloping low to the ground and jumping at just the right time to spin and kick one stallion in the jaw with a back hoof.  He crumpled and stirred, so she made sure to stomp on his ribcage on her way to the next pony.

Something moved in the corner of her eye.  She turned to catch it with a jab, but it was farther away than she had realized.  The three remaining ponies were engaged in a battle of their own, throwing kicks high and low to hit a fast moving streak of blurry silver.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Razorwing was saying in a voice sillier and deeper than his own, “no need for alarm.  If we could just see your docking license and a registration—”  He kicked one pony in the flank, sending it spinning to the ground.  “—we’ll be able to get this all sorted out downtown.”

“What is he doing?” Unsung asked dryly.

“Quit playing with them!” Mare Do Well growled.  She turned and dodged a blast of magic from the unicorn down the dock, then yelled over her shoulder, “Try to knock them out in one hit!”

“My one-hit-moves wouldn’t exactly knock a pony out,” Razorwing called back, leaping into the air and trying to kick two faces with the splits.  Only one hoof made contact and he had to use his wings to steady himself out.

“Don’t try to look cool,” Mare Do Well counseled.  “Nopony’s watching you.  Just be efficient.”

She pulled a tiny pebble from her belt just as the unicorn’s horn flashed red.  She followed the magical blast produced and held her hoof out at just the right angle.  The stone caught the magic, doubled in size, and began to mimic the dark red glow.

“Whoa!” Razorwing said.

Mare Do Well ignored the grunts and punches behind her, zoning in on the surprised face of the unicorn.  She leaned back, kicked off the dock, and hurled the pebble at the pony’s hooves.  It made impact right under his belly.  The explosion sent the poor pony flipping and screaming through the air… and disappearing over the side of the dock.

“Crap!” yelled Unsung.

Mare Do Well spun frenzied to Razorwing.  “Save him!”

“Got him!” shouted a strained voice.  Mare Do Well turned again to the welcome sight of Rainbow Dash with a limp unicorn dangling from her forelegs.  “Jeez, he’s even heavier than you!”

“Huh?”  Razorwing frowned.  “Is that some kinda fat joke?  I’m in great shape.”

“Uhhh… right, yeah, I was talking to you!” Rainbow said, dropping the pony on the dock far from the edge.  "Fatty!"

“Thanks,” Mare Do Well whispered, then bolted to help Razorwing.

“That’s one for the money… two for the show,” he was saying, sparring against a furious mare with a wilting flower for a Cutie Mark.

“That’s enough,” Mare Do Well said, hitting the mare below the jaw so that she dropped without a sound.  “Don’t toy with them.  Get it over with.”

“Gah!  That one’s getting away!”  He pointed.  “I’ll get him, you get the guy behind you about to smash your head with his big old hooves.”

Mare Do Well rolled to one side.  The ground shook with the force of the large, suited pony’s hooves against the platform.

“Gonne wear suits,” Unsung said.  “Classy.  Let’s learn as much as we can from this guy.”

“Ahhh…”  The stallion smiled and stood to his full height.  “If it isn’t the Malicious Mare Do Well.”

“Malicious?” Unsung repeated.

“You know, we talked about you before this all went down,” he said.  “Satin warned us you might come.  A side effect of working with the Mangled Marks.  We kept everything very secret, but you’re smarter than all that, aren’t you?”

“I am where I need to be,” Mare Do Well said, her voice like a distant storm.  “What’s in the blimp?”

“Drugs,” he answered, smoothing out his tie.  “And some other things.”

“What other things?”

“We don’t dabble as much with drugs as do our local competitors,” he said, still smiling.  “Nor with telling trade secrets to successful vigilantes.”

“And I don’t dabble much with flattery,” she said, and dove for the stallion’s hind legs.  He stepped back and lifted a front hoof to bat her away, but Mare Do Well had quickly wrapped herself around his back hooves.  He tried to turn and swipe at her, but the movement offset his balance and he toppled to the platform.  Mare Do Well dashed to his side, kicked him hard in the ribs to turn him onto his back, jumped high and, with a front flip, landed with all hooves squarely in the middle of his chest.  She felt the bones of his ribcage fracture under the force.

“Gaaaahhh!” he screamed, spinning to the side and swatting her away.  The wild hoof caught her back ankle.  She yelped and fell, grateful for the tight-wrapped cloth that made a bruise of a possible break.

The stallion was laughing between loud wheezes.  “I’ve heard stories, Mare Do Well.  That seems to be a favorite of yours.”

“It’s something I do well,” she said, crouching low while watching him struggle to stand.

“You’re not gonna finish me off?” he asked, rising on wobbly knees.

“I need your trade secrets,” she said.  “And I’ll trade them for your life.”

“You don’t kill,” he hissed.  “Everypony knows that.”

“I might.”  Razorwing landed in front of the stallion and stretched out his right wing, holding its long blade to his throat.  He smiled.  “Hey there.  I’m new in town.”

“Horseapples,” the big pony said.  The grooves of his neck exaggerated.  “Satin’s gonna be pissed.”

“I have three simple questions,” Mare Do Well said, standing tall.  “You answer, he backs up.  You don’t, he flies forward.”

The stallion barely nodded.

“What’s in the blimp?”

“Oh, I can tell you that,” Razorwing said, turning his head over his shoulder.  “There’s a whole bunch of barrels marked with toxic symbols and stuff, probably full of that sap they put into the pills and crystallize for Falcon.”

A tiny smile crept onto the wounded stallion’s face.

Mare Do Well stomped a hoof.  “What else is there?  Talk!”

“Oh, he’s right.  Nothing but barrels.”  He sniffed.  “Most of them are full of sap.”

Razorwing went pale.

“And the rest?”

The stallion looked at Razorwing.  “Yeah.  The rest?”

Razorwing shook his head.

The stallion chuckled.  “I didn’t think so.  If you were up there, Mare Do Well, I bet you would have noticed what this bird totally missed: some of the barrels have little holes in the top.

The vigilantes were silent.

“You know.  For air.”

“What!?”  Razorwing pushed his blade a little harder into the pony’s coat.  “There are ponies up there?”

“I didn’t say that,” the stallion said, but his wide smile was all Mare Do Well needed to see.

“That is disgusting,” said Unsung, breathless.

“I suppose that answers most of my questions,” Mare Do Well continued.  Her voice was noticeably more strained.  “I only have one more.  Razorwing, kick him in the chest until he answers.”  She stepped closer.  “Where is Satin?”

The stallion started to laugh.  Razorwing lashed out a front hoof and kicked him between his front and back legs.  The stallion coughed and gasped, shaking in an effort to keep from pressing his own throat against the deadly wing.  “Why,” he finally said, anger splashed across his features, “would I ever tell you that?”

“Because you value your life.”

“I have a greater chance of living with my head cut off than I do if I answer that question.”

Mare Do Well nodded.  “Interesting.  Tell me whatever you can about her and we’ll let you live.”

A perplexed look softened the stallion’s expression.  “What do you already know?”

“She runs the Gonne.”

After a long pause, the stallion asked, “That’s it?”

“I’ve been focused on the Mangled Marks.”  She took another step forward.

“Right.  Satin… Satin is a genius.  Richer than sin.  Started with nothing, then learned to con and steal and plot and heist and rose to the top of this city.”  Something like admiration flashed across his eyes.  “Once Princess Sparkle took over, she bought out most of the police force and hired her own followers.  They’ll do anything for her.”

Mare Do Well’s stance stiffened.  “Are hers the forces responsible for the killings among local rebellion?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the stallion said.  “Some say she’s working with the Princess hoof in hoof.”

Razorwing growled.

“I’ll make a note of that,” Unsung said.  “We need to talk about this, Bloom.”

“What else can I ask?” Mare Do Well said, but it was directed at Unsung.

“I think that’s enough,” she heard in her mind.  “Let’s save the ponies in those barrels.”

“—never find her.  Even if you manage to take down the Mangl—”

Mare Do Well leapt forward and shut him up with two uppercuts to the corners of his jaw.  Razorwing tucked his weapon at his side so the stallion could fall forward and land on his face.

“You are amazing,” Razorwing sighed.

“You’re a goofball,” she replied, and pointed to the blimp.  “Find Rainbow Dash and fly up there.  Get the ponies out of their barrels and stay put.  I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Yeah, okay.”  Razorwing blinked at her with a lulling smile.  “How old are you?”

Mare Do Well looked him up and down.  “I wear this costume for a reason,” she said.  “You should think about hiding a bit more of your color.”

“Well, this stuff isn’t to hide,” he said, tapping the metal around his limbs.  “It’s armor.”

“You’ll want to stay hidden if you plan to continue in this business,” she said.

Razorwing groaned.  “But then no one will know how awesome I am ‘cause nopony will recognize me.”

“Exactly.”  She pointed up.  “The ponies.”

“Oh, right.”  He started to flap, then looked down at the sleeping bodies strewn along the dock.  “Uhhh… should we clean this up?”

“I’ll handle it.  Ten minutes.”

“But how are you even gonna get up here?  Do you need me to come down and give you a—”

“Ten minutes.  Go help those ponies.”

“Right, sorry.”  He saluted and, with three hard flaps, rocketed up to the hovering blimp.  Mare Do Well began to drag the fallen ponies into a central pile.

“What’s the plan here?” asked Lyra. "Bring anything to tie them up?"

“Hopefully the fabric of these suits ain’t too hard to rip and knot,” said Apple Bloom.
> 12 - A Maze of Tombs
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


CHAPTER TWELVE
A MAZE OF TOMBS




“They’re all unconscious,” Rainbow Dash said, holding one mare’s head in her hooves.

“Freaking creepazoids,” Silver Medal growled, opening another barrel with the blades along his wings. He tipped it on its side and pulled another mare, probably a few years younger than himself, out of her tight prison. He laid out her limp body beside six others, all breathing slowly and with light bruises on their faces.

“This is messed up, Silver,” Rainbow said. He could only nod. Rainbow glanced around the long chamber stacked with barrels. “Where’s… uh… Mare Do Well?”

“She said she was gonna take care of all those ponies we beat up.” He glanced sideways at his sister. “Where did you take those three you grabbed, anyway?”

“Police station,” Rainbow said. “Took me forever to find it. But I felt awesome once I did, dropping three unconscious stallions on the steps. I wish I had some kinda note to put on ‘em.”

“That’s super cliche,” Silver said. “Come on, look for more barrels with holes in the tops.”

“I think we got ‘em all.” Rainbow gulped. “You think these other ones without holes… uh… really just have drugs in ‘em?”

Silver’s eyes widened. He grabbed the corner of the closest barrel with his hoof and shook it. It was heavy and something sloshed around inside. “Yeah. I hope so, anyway.”

“It’d be nice if one of us had X-ray vision right about now,” Rainbow mumbled.

“Yeah, especially when Mare Do Well shows up,” Silver said, grinning.

Rainbow raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“We could figure out who she is!”

Rainbow coughed. “Does it even matter?”

“I guess not.” Silver sat on his haunches, clinking the armor of his hooves together a few times. “I’d at least like to know how old she is.”

“What? Why?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. No reason. Maybe she’s an old mare or something. I can’t tell by her voice.”

Rainbow laughed. “Oh my gosh, are you crushing on her?”

“No!” he shouted, jumping to his hooves.

“You totally are!”

“Am not! That’d be super weird… y’know, if she was an old mare or something.”

Rainbow cracked up, then realized it wasn’t the time or place and covered her mouth with both hooves, glancing at the unconscious mares lying between them. “She’s not an old mare, I can tell you that,” she added in a quiet voice.

Silver Medal’s eyes brightened. “What makes you say that?”

“Did you see her fight? I’m not that old, Silver, and the stuff she does would wear me out in a second.”

“What? No way. You’re in great shape.”

“Well, thank you,” Rainbow said, rubbing her hoof against her chest. “But seriously, she’s not old. I bet she’s your age, actually.”

Silver looked away. “Oh, come on, don’t get my hopes up.”

Rainbow smirked. Before she could say something else, a distinct whirring sound filled the whole chamber. Both ponies crouched and threw their eyes from end to end of the hall-like cargo hold. “What’s that?”

It stopped. The siblings looked at each other. “You get that end,” Rainbow said, pointing to her left, “and I’ll check over here.”

Silver Medal nodded. “Maybe it’s just Mare Do Well.”

“Was there anyone on the ship when you first flew up here?” Rainbow asked over her shoulder, galloping to her self-assigned post.

“Yeah, I knocked out four or five, I think,” he said. “How many are usually on a blimp?”

“I don’t know! Last time I rode a blimp was…” She chuckled. “Oh, man. Did I ever tell you about that time I found out Ditzy Doo had a sister?”

“Who?”

A door by Silver Medal swung open. Mare Do Well posed in the doorway, ready to strike.

“Hey, it’s okay!” he said, holding up his hooves. “It’s just us. We got all the ponies out.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, stalking quickly from one end of the room to the other, her face practically twitching with how fast she glanced from barrel to barrel.

“Uhhh… yeah, I think so.”

“For sure. I checked ‘em all,” Rainbow added, following Mare Do Well back to Silver.

“Good. Seven mares.” Mare Do Well shook her head. “Any idea where they’re coming from?”

“Cloudsdale, I’d say,” Silver Medal guessed. “They’re all pegasi.”

“I’ve actually seen her before,” Rainbow said, pointing at one of the mares on the end. “Pretty sure she works at the weather factory.”

“That should make returning them as easy as possible,” Mare Do Well said. “Any idea how to fly this thing?”

Silver beamed. “I can figure it out!”

“Good. When we’re done here, make sure they get home safely.”

Silver Medal nodded, grinning from ear to ear.

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Okay, let’s finally talk about the Mangy Marks and then get these poor girls out of here.”

Holding up a hoof, Silver Medal said, “Hold on, first, can we talk about how you got up here?”

“No.” Mare Do Well turned to Rainbow Dash. “I’ve already set the plan in motion. The leader of the Mangled Marks should come to the Canterlot Cemetery on the night of the full Moon. We’ll be there waiting for him.”

“You sure he’s gonna come?” asked Rainbow.

“No. But he’ll send somepony he trusts, and that’s good enough.”

“What do you need us to do?” Silver Medal asked.

Mare Do Well smiled, but nopony would have known. “Fly. Fast.”


(/\/\)


“Woohoo! I see Cloudsdale!” Silver pointed through the front window of the cockpit. “This is easy!”

“And slooooowwwww,” Rainbow Dash drawled. “I’m gonna go check on the mares again.”

“I don’t think they’ve woken up in the last thirty seconds, Rainy Day.” Silver laughed. “Come on, just enjoy it! Isn’t it peaceful? Here, I’ll even let you drive if you want to.”

“You’re not doing anything. All we have to do is stop this thing before it runs into the city. We’re headed straight for it.”

“You’re leaving out the wind factor!” Silver pretended to turn the steering wheel dramatically, moving only his body. “Gaaahh! It’s too strong… I don’t think we’ll make it!”

“You sure like all this hero business, don’t you?” Rainbow asked.

He sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I really do. I feel great!”

“I can tell.” She moved closer to the window and looked down at Equestria. “I used to be that way, too. Makes me miss… the old days, I guess.”

Silver frowned. “What, are you not having fun?”

“Not really.” Rainbow cracked her neck and kept staring down. “I guess I’m kinda past my prime. Seeing how into this you are makes me realize how much I’m… not.” She looked at him and smiled sadly. “Don’t think I’m quitting. I’ll help Mare Do Well with her big plan. But I just… I don’t think I’m gonna keep at it once this is over.”

A corner of Silver’s mouth twitched downward. “Oh. Well, I get that. You’ve had plenty of adventures, I guess. Being a vigilante can’t even compare to all the stuff you did back in the day.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Rainbow squinted at Cloudsdale growing in the distance. “I think I’ll fly over there now, actually. I can get somepony’s attention. I don’t wanna be… y’know… with my reputation and everything, maybe it’s not good for me to be seen in a hijacked blimp filled with drugs and—”

“I get it, Rainbow. Good idea.” He adjusted the steering wheel a little. “Once I see somepony coming, I’ll get out of here, too. My armor isn’t exactly hiding my identity.”

Rainbow flapped. “Ha! Told ya!”

“Yeah. Modifications are necessary.”

“I’ll be happy to see what you come up with,” Rainbow said. “Really, I mean it. You’re gonna be great at this. I think you can really help out here.”

A bashful smile made Silver Medal look away. “Thanks, Rainbow. Just trying to live up to family standards, I guess.”

“Oh, please.” Rainbow winked. “Let’s not be unrealistic here.”


(/\/\)


“Then I cross-analyzed the data with samples from six different families of moraceae—”

“Lyra.”

“—deciphered the composition with three separate catalysts—”

“Lyra!” Apple Bloom blew air through pursed lips. “I am an artist and a street fighter and I just woke up. I don’t understand a dang word yer sayin’.”

Lyra laughed. “Well, neither did I until I started on this project, honestly. I’ve had to learn all this stuff on the go. It’s been pretty amazing.”

“That’s great. What’s it all mean? Where’s the sap comin’ from?”

“A mulberry tree,” Lyra said. She opened her eyes for a moment and tapped the map laid out over her desk. “There are only a few recorded clusters at the edge of the Everfree forest.”

“Any near Ponyville?”

“Uh, no. Not even close. But there are lots along the ground under Cloudsdale’s normal migration patterns. I’m willing to bet they harvest the sap on the ground, smuggle it through Cloudsdale in those blimps, and process it into those pills somewhere in Canterlot.”

“So if we find out where they’re processin’ it we can stop it?”

Lyra hummed. “I don’t think so. If it’s coming through Cloudsdale I’m willing to bet they could find other places to pill this stuff. No, if we want to take this whole thing out fast, we’ve gotta go for the trees.”

Apple Bloom sat up on her bed. “The mulberry trees?”

“Yep. All it would take is a spell of some kind and we could crush ‘em at their roots.”

“Whoa, Lyra! We can’t just go killin’ trees!”

Lyra laughed. “What? Why not?”

“That’s immoral! The trees ain’t done nothin’ wrong.”

“Apple Bloom, please, they’re just trees.”

“Just trees?” Apple Bloom took off the hat for a moment and gawked at the ceiling. Pulling it back over her head, she shouted, “Come on, Lyra! Trees are like family to me. There’s gotta be another way.”

“Oh, gosh. You’re kidding me.”

Apple Bloom heard the front door of the apartment unlock and open. She hurriedly whispered, “Not the trees. I’ll contact you later,” and tucked the hat under her bed. Three voices entered the house and Apple Bloom curled up by her pillow, pretending to rest. Sweetie Belle opened the door to their room and, spying Apple Bloom, shushed the others.

“Oh, shh! Quiet, Apple Bloom’s sleeping!” Sweetie whispered. “Thanks for lunch!”

Blitz and Lilac smiled and nodded before scurrying into their room and shutting the door behind them. Sweetie came in and closed her own door, hurrying to Apple Bloom’s side.

“Bloom! Apple Bloom, are you really asleep?”

Without opening her eyes, Apple Bloom smiled. “I wish.”

Sweetie’s face caught somewhere in between delighted and concerned. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“No more than usual,” she answered, sitting up in bed and rubbing her eyes. “What’s up?”

A repressed squeal carried Sweetie’s voice up an octave. “Was it you, Apple Bloom? Did you save those girls in Cloudsdale?”

“What?” Apple Bloom yawned. “Did they get home okay?”

“Oh my gosh, Apple Bloom, you’re a hero!” Sweetie wrapped her hooves around her friend. “Everyone at school is talking about it, probably everyone in the whole city! This morning we got news from Cloudsdale that a bunch of girls who were kidnapped last week from the weather factory showed up safe in an empty blimp above the police station. At first everyone was freaking out, thought it was some kind of attack, but then they found the girls and… oh, Apple Bloom! Everyone knows it was Mare Do Well. Ponies were in tears talking about it!”

“Why didn’t we hear about the kidnappin’ earlier?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Maybe it was big news in Cloudsdale, I don’t know,” Sweetie said. “But they’re home and safe and with their friends and families, thanks to you!”

The small room boasted no window, but Apple Bloom imagined one on her wall. She watched relieved reunions through it: tearful ponies embracing, cheerful families together again. She breathed in deeply and sighed through her snout. “They’re home thanks to Mare Do Well. And everypony who helps her.” She smiled at Sweetie Belle. “Which is a growin’ list, lemme tell ya.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Sweetie looked over her shoulder at the closed door, then leaned in closer to Apple Bloom. “That, uh, commission you asked for… it’s proving a bit more expensive than I expected.”

“Oh, jee, really?” Apple Bloom winced. “I’m sorry, Sweetie. I don’t have nothin’ to give ya and I certainly don’t want ya emptyin’ your pockets for all this.”

“Oh, no, no, no, it’s fine!” Sweetie laughed. “That’s not what I meant at all. I have the bits, believe me. I just wanted to let you know that I’m giving it my all, I’m not cutting any corners. If I can help make this city a better place… a safer place…” Her smiled faltered. She cleared her throat. “I’m all in, Apple Bloom. You won’t be disappointed.”

“You’re amazin’, Sweetie Belle,” Apple Bloom said. “Don’t go doin’ anything stupid, but I do appreciate you helpin’ out.”

“How many do you think you’ll need?” Sweetie asked, whispering again.

“Two, at least.” Her eyes raised to Sweetie’s horn. “Maybe three.”


(/\/\)


Canterlot’s streets were buzzing with the news. Trotting into the heart of the city, Apple Bloom could feel the difference. The sky felt brighter, the air less heavy, and voices dared to breathe positivity into their conversations. It wasn’t the Canterlot of her youth, and it certainly was no Ponyville, but Apple Bloom could tell something had changed. Something had caught.

There seemed to be more ponies out on the streets. Perhaps it was due to the time of day with the Sun directly overhead, or maybe Apple Bloom had gotten too used to the emptiness of nighttime. Either way, she liked the bustle. This was what she dreamed of when she was first accepted to the School of Art.

It didn’t take long to find the hair salon. Ponies with wild hairstyles, some with expressions of general contempt, entered and exited the wide double doors of Chamomile Cuts at a nearly constant rate. Before following a group of giggling fillies inside, Apple Bloom took a long look at herself in a reflective window nearby. She looked tired, and in large part that was due to her unruly, bright red mane.

“See ya someday,” she said to it. “Maybe I’ll put a bow back in ya next time we meet. You’d like that, wouldn’tcha?”

She trotted into Chamomile Cuts and asked the thin pony at the front desk for Creamsicle. “I’ll wait as long as I need to,” she added. “Just sign me up for whenever she can see me next.”

“Honey, that’s not until next week,” the young mare said in a nasally voice, lowering her tall glasses to eye Apple Bloom with a tilted brow.

“Oh. Uhhh…” Apple Bloom looked into the rest of the salon. It was easy to spot Creamsicle’s short green mane. She was just finishing with another customer, it seemed, and happened to meet Apple Bloom’s stare. She beamed and waved a manicured hoof.

Apple Bloom grinned and waved back.

“Do you want me to schedule you in for next Thursday at nine?” the mare behind the desk asked.

“Uhhh—”

“Apple Bloom!” Creamsicle’s peppy voice shouted as she approached. “You made it for your appointment!”

“You have an appointment?” the desk mare asked.

“Uhhh… yeah!” Apple Bloom said.

“Well, why didn’t you say so? Go on back.” The mare replaced her glasses and began filing one of her hooves.

“Okay.” Apple Bloom hurried around the desk and approached Creamsicle. “You’re sure I’m not interruptin’ anything?”

“I was just about to go on break,” Creamsicle said. “Are you here for a mane cut?”

“Well, I was hopin’ to schedule somethin’ with ya, but if you ain’t got time I can—”

“Let’s do it!” Creamsicle took Apple Bloom by the front leg and dragged her to a corner covered in mirrors. “Believe me, it’s the least I can do for your help the other night. Besides, I said I wanted to help!”

“Right. Thanks.” She smiled weakly. “So, uh… I’ve never really done this before. I always just had my big brother cut my hair.”

“That’s no problem at all!” Creamsicle sat on her haunches behind Apple Bloom and took a specially designed pair of scissors from a short drawer. “I’ve been thinking about how to tame these tangles since the minute we met.”

“Oh… really?”

Creamsicle went to work. Apple Bloom watched a few clumps drop to the ground and then shut her eyes, breathing deeply.

“You okay, sweetie?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll be fine.”

“Attached to your style?” Creamsicle asked. “I’ve seen it before. I promise you’ll like what I do to it.”

“No, I’m really not all too attached,” Apple Bloom said. “It’s just new and different, that’s all.”

“Ah, of course. New and different can be very uncomfortable.” She snipped away, taking a brush in her teeth for a moment to move some of Apple Bloom’s mane away from her ears, then dropping it on top of the drawer. She leaned closer and said softly, “But that doesn’t stop some ponies from trying to change the world.”

Apple Bloom laughed a little, keeping her eyes closed. “I reckon you heard about what happened?”

“Honey, the whole town is talking about it. You just went from being a myth to a legend.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, believe me when I tell you, because I heard it around here all the time, that ponies have had a lot to say about Mare Do Well over the last month.” She turned Apple Bloom’s head a bit between her hooves and glanced around. “Some thought she was a hero, thought she was so brave to stand up to everything that’s been going on. Others thought she was just adding to the problem, going about it the wrong way. And others thought she’d be dead before she could make any real changes.”

“Huh.” Apple Bloom sighed. “Guess there’re no surprises there.”

“But now,” Creamsicle continued, “ho ho! Now, you should hear what they’ve been saying today alone. That she’s the embodiment of all the good that’s left in ponykind, that she’s a savior sent from the old Princesses or, or that one of the Elements of Harmony has come back to right Princess Twilight’s wrongs!” She made an elated sound, like a muffled cheer.

“Wow, really?” Apple Bloom’s eyes squeezed shut tighter. “What changed?”

“Saving young mares from their dastardly captors? That’s straight from a fairy tale, Apple Bloom. Ponies love a good story, and you just proved yourself a defender of good against the wickedest of crimes. How did you find those girls, anyway?”

“Honestly? It was an accident. I was just in the right place at the right time.”

“Hmm.” Creamsicle made a loud, decisive cut and stopped. “Maybe there is something to the idea that you’re not alone out there. Maybe somepony really did send you.”

“I dunno about that,” Apple Bloom said, “but I’m definitely not alone. Here you are helpin’ me out right now.”

“Actually, I’m done!” Creamsicle said. “You can open your eyes now.”

Apple Bloom drew in a short breath, then popped her eyes open and looked in the mirror. Her mane looked short—very short. In fact, her bangs were still long and round, covering most of her left eye. The back curled in several directions, running smoothly into her bangs, tightly around her ears, and softly down her neck. 

“Wow!” she breathed out.

“Feminine, edgy, and perfect for hiding under that mask,” Creamsicle bragged. “I told you, I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

“Oh my gosh… I love it.” Apple Bloom pushed at her bangs and ran her hoof through the thick, short locks on the back of her head. “I love it! Thank you, Creamsicle! Wowee, I’m gonna send everypony I know to you now!”

“Ha ha! I certainly wouldn’t complain.”

“How much do I owe you?”

“All the contents of my purse,” she said, “which you delivered in advance. No charge today, little friend.”

“Oh, Creamsicle, I couldn’t…”

“If you want to offer a couple of bits as a tip, I wouldn’t oppose.” She smiled sweetly.

Apple Bloom nodded and put three bits by the brush. “Deal. Thanks again, Creamsicle.”

“Anytime, really!” As Apple Bloom trotted out, Creamsicle said, “Come back when it starts to grow in. That’s when I can really make it yours!”


(/\/\)


Apple Bloom watched the full Moon break the horizon from a low rooftop. With great precision, she tightened the cape around her neck and the belt around her waist, slid her mask fluidly over her scowling face, and placed the purple, wide brim hat atop her head.

“Is everything ready?” Lyra asked from Ponyville.

“Yes,” said Mare Do Well.

“You’re sure? You’ve double, triple, quadruple checked?”

“Do you doubt me?”

“I love this plan. I don’t doubt the plan for a second,” Lyra said, “but we don’t communicate as much as I would like to during the off season, so to speak.”

“Off season?”

“You know, when the Sun’s up!” Lyra snorted. “Look, I’m not mad and I’m not doubting you, I just want to know that everything is in place.”

“Everything is in place.” Mare Do Well eyed the glowing night sky. “By the time the Moon sets, we’ll be ten steps ahead of the Mangled Marks.”

“Yes, whoo! Let’s do this.” Lyra massaged her temples and wiggled her rump on the rug by her fireplace. “Go.”

Mare Do Well leapt from the building. She scurried along an adjacent wall and leapt from its corner into the air, gliding into a dark alley. The enchanted hat put a bright blur at the very edges of her vision, assuring her that Lyra was watching through her eyes. 

“Tell me if you see anypony,” Mare Do Well said, glancing to and fro at intersecting alleyways. “I know you can’t watch my back, but four eyes are better than two.”

“If you say so,” Lyra muttered. “Sometimes this gives me a headache.”

Approaching the wall of the cemetery, Mare Do Well tightened her hind legs and pushed high, leaping nearly to its top. Pressing her forehooves into the brick, she managed to scramble up and over the wall, landing among gravestones on the other side.

“Well, this is the creepiest place I’ve ever seen,” Lyra remarked.

A very low mist crept through the cemetery. Mare Do Well stood among small, mostly flat gravestones that bore little more than a last name and a pair of years long gone. In the distant center of the grand plot, certainly more than an acre in size, much larger and more elaborate tombstones marked the graves of important, wealthy, and deceased ponies.

“Are you having second thoughts?” Lyra asked. “Or is that just me projecting?”

“No turning back,” Mare Do Well growled, galloping over the wilting grass to the center. Moonlight cast shadows that darkened as she ran.

“Okay, you’re getting close,” said Lyra. “Quiet down.”

Mare Do Well slowed her pace, carrying herself into a maze of tall tombs on wrapped, silent hooves. She wove between tombs of varying architecture and material, some black iron, others smooth marble. The sheer number was daunting and reminded her of how long Canterlot had buried its dead within these walls. What would its historical elite, famed for their honor and harmonious government, think of its current state? And what judgement would they pass upon her actions to restore it?

“Here,” Lyra said, and Mare Do Well stopped on a bit, pressing herself into the wall of a weathered, reddish tomb. “Listen now. Don’t move until you hear them pass.”

So Mare Do Well waited. Each breath reinforced her focus, each blink encouraged her resolve. If heartbeats could win battles, the Mangled Marks would not survive the night.

“You ready, Bloom?” Lyra asked quietly.

“I am.” She clenched her teeth. “This one’s for Harper.”


(/\/\)


Nopony saw how the cloaked stallion entered the cemetery. He walked on steady hooves to the edge of the central area of tombs, the only place to hide among the dead.

As always, he was accompanied by an abnormally tall and slender pegasus of the blackest black. Only the whites of the pony’s narrow eyes differed from his overwhelming darkness, and the long wings bent at his sides hid whatever was left of his altered Cutie Mark. 

Others, too, followed at a short distance in groups of twos and threes. These were clearly professionals, chosen from among the ranks of Mangled Marks for their brawn, intelligence, and fearlessness. In a spread out formation of tactical design visible only to those who sought it, the elite faction of Mangled Marks assigned to protect their leader moved forward in a tightly unison, though altogether natural looking, speed.

“I know you are here already, Mare Do Well,” the hooded pony at the front called out. “We watched you enter at the gate hours ago. Do you think us frightened? I am no more intimidated by you than I am by the bodies beneath our hooves.”

No sound arose from the deep shadows between the tombs.

“I am willing to converse with you,” the shady stallion continued. “Eager, even. We have much to discuss. You are upsetting a system I have dedicated much time and energy to. I’m sure you are pleased to hear this, but we must come to some agreement, for our mutual benefit.”

He nodded over his shoulder. The black pegasus stepped forward and planted himself directly at the stallion’s side. The others approached as well, tightening the half circle protecting their boss from behind.

“Perhaps you see this squadron I’ve brought with me,” said the stallion in an even louder tone, “and assume I have assembled it out of fear. Perhaps you are surprised that I’ve come at all. Whatever your thoughts and intentions, Miss Mare Do Well, I assure you there is more at stake here than you realize. There is more to the Mangled Marks than selling hallucinogenic pills, and there is far more to me than—”

A film of green magic surrounded the hooded pony and yanked him into the maze of mausoleums. He disappeared into the shadows. The black pegasus reacted instantly, diving into the darkness after his boss without a sound. The others, startled, assumed defensive stances and cast their eyes in all directions, ears tuned to follow any order.

Suddenly, galloping faster than any of them expected, Mare Do Well burst from one side of the tombs.

“After her!” one of the gruff ponies cried.

“But she’s alone!” said another.

There was a short silence, a pause that all of them felt was too long.

“You three, go after her!” shouted the first voice. “We’ll go in and find him.”

Three of the stallions took off, chasing Mare Do Well to the gates. Those who stayed watched her leap over the wall in a single bound. Her pursuers rammed into the locked gate, breaking it open and following her into the city.

Three others rushed into the congregation of central tombs, only to be pushed back by waves of green magic. Some unicorns among them fired bright blasts of their own into the darkness. The green magic nudged their companions into the lines of fire, each receiving several balls of energy to the face and falling unconscious to the ground.

And then, shocking every stallion left standing, Mare Do Well once again sprinted out of the shadows, this time with a hooded pony draped over her back.

“What the—!”

“Go, go, get her!”

But as the group began to chase this second Mare Do Well, a third caped pony in a sharp purple hat ran from the far end of the tombs, carrying another cloaked pony in an aura of green magic.

“No way!”

“What is this!?”

One stallion’s angry shout set them all into motion: “Gaah! Get them, catch them both!”

The remaining stallions split into two groups and followed the Mare Do Wells. Within two minutes, the enormous graveyard was empty again, housing only its reverent dead and a thickening blanket of fog.

Amidst the tall tombs, however, sliding through the shadows as if part of them all, the black pegasus stalked his leader’s captor. He could smell her, a sweet and natural scent that matched nothing else about her, hiding somewhere in the maze. He flapped his great wings, leaping over two tombs at a time. Stark white eyes scanned every corner, criticizing how cramped the area had become over hundreds of years of rich families honoring their worthless dead.

Mare Do Well suddenly appeared, stepping out from behind an old red tomb much shorter than its neighbors.

The pegasus dove for her. She rolled away from his attack, swiping at his haunches. He batted her hoof away with the tip of a wing, swung his whole body, and slapped her across the face with the bones of his other wing.

“Oof!” She fell against the rusty gate of a narrow brick tomb, jumping to her feet and avoiding a sharp jab from the black pegasus’ hoof.

“It’s pointless to fight me here,” she growled. “Your boss has already been taken. Not even I know which truly had him.”

The stallion pivoted, flapped his wings hard enough to knock Mare Do Well’s hat back, and whipped her in the muzzle with his long black tail. She reached over the top of her head for her hat as he lifted his hind legs and bucked her in the chest. She launched backward, colliding with the edge of a tomb and flipping hard onto her back. Her hat lay by the rusty door and she tried to scramble for it, but the black pegasus ducked his head under her neck and thrust her up into the nearest wall. Her cheek smacked against the stone of it and she slid to the ground while the stallion hit her twice on the top of her head. He picked her up in both forelegs and threw her aching body even farther from the hat.

“Stop!” she coughed, suddenly realizing that she couldn’t breathe. “I don’t have him!”

Stomping closer, the stallion hit Mare Do Well under the jaw then hard in the throat, used a wing to leap upward into a spinning kick, and delivered a crushing blow to the side of her head.

Apple Bloom’s ear rang painfully as she tried to stand up and run, but the stallion was too fast. Again and again he hit her in the shoulder, the hip, the back of the neck. He pushed her to the ground and punched several bruises into her ribcage, then used his narrow tail to whip her face again and again.

“Stop it!” she yelled. “Stop, I’m done! I’m done!”

With strength disproportionate to his slender frame, the stallion wrapped his forehooves around Apple Bloom and used his mighty wings to carry them up above the graves. He lifted her body in front of him like a limp doll and threw her across the pointed roof of a very tall tomb. She cried out in pain and flopped off the miniature house, crumpling motionless at its base.

The black pegasus hovered above her, glaring from above the roofs of many dead. Malice burned in his eyes and he poised to dive for a final strike—when a Mare Do Well with a hooded figure strapped to her back flew in at breakneck speeds and barreled into him from the side.

Rainbow Dash and the black pegasus sprawled through the air and landed on modest graves quite distant from the central tombs. The stuffed dummy on her back slid off and landed on a bench-like gravestone as the stallion stood and stared at her.

“You wanna piece of this?” she asked. “Quit beating up on that filly. I’m the real Mare Do Well!”

The stallion snorted and charged, tackling both pegasi to the greying grass and ensuing a blurry brawl. Each punch from both fighters was quicker than the last. They used their wings to dodge and vault over and around each other, each trying to get the upper hoof. Rainbow’s mask ripped and she began to bleed from a well-timed jab; the black stallion’s knees were weakened by her ferocious kicks.

A great surge of light exploded from among the tombs. Both pegasi paused to look at the spotlight that burned a hole into the roof of an unassuming tomb and disappeared.

“Oh, no!” Rainbow said as the cloaked pony struggled to climb out of the hole.

“Aether!” he shouted. “Now!”

In a dark flash, the black pegasus flew to his leader’s aid. He took the cloaked stallion in his hooves and pumped his wings, carrying both away and into the night.

“Oh no you don’t!” Rainbow yelled, bolting after them.

“Turn!” the cloaked pony shouted. They swiveled around in midair just before Rainbow reached them. An enormous column of magic rushed from inside his hood and pushed Rainbow Dash into the ground with a searing pulse of energy.

“Aahh! Oohhh, dang it!” Rainbow moaned, pounding her hoof into the grass between graves as she tried to take to the air. Her wings were too wounded and her feathers too singed; she soon collapsed and watched helplessly as the leader of the Mangled Marks was carried away by the thin, wordless pegasus who did his every bidding.

“Dang it,” Rainbow said again, and dropped her head onto a flat gravestone so old that its name was long eroded and forgotten.
> 13 - Leave It to Others
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


CHAPTER THIRTEEN 
LEAVE IT TO OTHERS
 	

Apple Bloom writhed on the ground. Not since leaping from a train in Ponyville had she needed a hospital. Even with all the bruises, cuts, and aches she had sustained as Mare Do Well, home remedies had always been enough. But not this time. 	

“They can’t know,” she kept murmuring. Barely understandable, the words gurgled past pooling blood in her mouth. “Nopony can see me…” 

“Dang it, Bloom, stay still!” Rainbow Dash yelled through clenched teeth, using them to rip off more of the dark blue wrap around Apple Bloom’s forehooves. “Holy goddess, you’re bleeding a lot. Quit squirming, nopony’s gonna see you if you let me get—this—off!” 

She tore off the cape and pulled the mask off from Apple Bloom’s face. Blood in the mask painted streaks into her yellow fur. “Eugh, sorry Bloom…” 

“Nopony can know… don’t tell Applejack…” 

“Oh, shut up. Where’s your hat?” Rainbow Dash scrambled around the tombs and found the hat around a corner. Pressing it over her own head, her mind was suddenly assaulted with deep breaths and curses. 

“Lyra!” Rainbow yelled. “Can you hear me through this thing?” 

“Rainbow Dash?” Lyra asked. “Oh, thank everything good and shining! Where’s Apple Bloom?” 

“Uhhh…” Rainbow looked down the narrow alley between tombs at a crumbled body. “She’s hurt.” 

“Horseapple jam!” Lyra screamed. “Is she all right?” 

Rainbow looked up and around the sky. “Whoa, can you see her? Where are you?” 

“I’m in Ponyville, in my living room,” Lyra explained. “The hat lets me see through your eyes.” 

Rainbow grimaced. “Ew, really? That’s creepy.” 

“Get over there! Is she okay?” 

“Well… not really.” Rainbow flapped once and landed by Apple Bloom’s shivering head. “I think she needs a hospital, but—” 

“No, no!” moaned Apple Bloom. “Not the hospital… they’ll see me…” 

“Sweet Celestia…” Lyra’s teeth chattered. “Did they unmask her?” 

“No, I just did that right now,” Rainbow said. “I’m trying to get the costume off so I can take her to a hospital, but it’s wrapped so freaking tight! Is there some hidden zipper or something I’m not seeing?” 

"Oh, jeez, I don't know! The only part of that thing I've touched is the hat! And the belt, I guess, but..." Lyra paused, then gasped. "Rainbow, do you have steady hooves?" 

"Huh? Uh, yeah, sorta." 

"Take the red gem out of her belt and smack it against the ground," Lyra said. "It'll get pretty hot, but it shouldn't burn you."

Frantic, Rainbow searched the many pockets around Apple Bloom's waist. She took a flat, red stone with uneven facets between her hooves and slid it along the grass beneath them. 

"No, it needs more force!" said Lyra. "Hit it against a wall!" 

Rainbow smacked the stone against the nearest tomb under one hoof and held it there. It began to glow and heat up under the pressure of her hoof. "What is this thing!?" 

"Use it to cut off the suit, carefully!" Lyra said. "Don't cut into her skin." 

"Nyeeuughh..." Rainbow Dash grimaced as she held one half of the stone between her forehooves and bent over Apple Bloom. "Don't you dare start squirming again," she breathed. 

The gem grew even hotter upon contact with the costume's fabric. Rainbow carefully dragged it from Apple Bloom's thigh toward her neck until she had made a hole large enough to reach through with her hooves and teeth. Pulling in opposite directions, enough of the costume finally ripped so that Rainbow could peel Apple Bloom out of the simmering rags. 	"Got her," Rainbow said to Lyra. "We're getting out of here." 

"Leave the hat in one of the tombs for now, but come back for it when she's safe," said Lyra. "Promise you'll come back and give me some kind of update!" 

"I will," said Rainbow. She pushed the hat through the bars of one tomb's gate and scooped Apple Bloom off the ground, totally unconscious. Without another word, she flew as fast as she could to a hospital far from the cemetery.

The emergency room was quiet until she burst in screaming for help. Soon Apple Bloom's open wounds were being cleaned by a team of nurses. Rainbow could do nothing more but wait in the lobby, noticing for the first time the bruises on her own body. 

"Who was that guy?" she asked herself, prodding a tender spot on her neck.


(/\/\)
 

Apple Bloom found it easier than expected to register for classes, even from her bed in the hospital. The paperwork was fairly straightforward, especially since all she wanted was to copy the schedule of her first semester. At least that way she would have a head start on her classes; student by day and Mare Do Well by night was daunting, but familiar classes could alleviate some of the stress.

Assuming, of course, that she could ever take to the streets again. 

“Ah! Yeah, that hurts,” Apple Bloom said, nodding to the nurse. “Yeah, right there, that hurts bad.”

“What in Equestria happened to you?” he asked, writing something on a clipboard with a pencil in his magic. “Broken back, shattered ankle, burn marks in your coat, cuts and bruises all over your face… Did you get into a fight with a flamboyant professional wrestler and then fall off a building?” 

“That’s pretty close, actually,” Apple Bloom said. She tried to smile, but cuts around her lips and gums were too tender. 

“Well, the good news is you’re alive,” the nurse said, setting his pencil down. “I can’t say you would have died if somepony hadn’t brought you in, but we were definitely able to help stop the bleeding and at least get you stable.” He stepped closer and looked into her eyes. “The other news is, you might not be able to walk for several weeks.”

“Weeks?” Apple Bloom croaked. 

“And I would recommend not fighting any professionals for at least two months,” he said with a wink, but Apple Bloom’s heart sunk deeper. 

“Ain’t there somethin’ you can do to make me heal faster? Magic-wise?” She made sad eyes at his horn. “Please?” 

“Healing magic is very advanced. In amateur hooves, it could do much more damage than good.” 

“Then bring in a professional!” Apple Bloom yelled. “Er… no offense.” 

The nurse smiled. “Modern medicine overtook magic decades ago. Even if we found somepony well versed in it, the procedures would cost a fortune.” 

Her eyes widened. “Cost? Uh… how much is all this gonna cost?” 

“You won’t have to worry about that,” the nurse said. “The pony that brought you in insisted on paying your expenses. As soon as we think you’re ready to go, you can trot out of here bill-free. I have a few other patients to check on; somepony will be with you shortly for another pain assessment.”

As he left the room, Apple Bloom dropped her head onto the pillow and sighed. “Thank you, Rainbow Dash,” she said under her breath.

Compared to Ponyville’s, Canterlot General was a cutting edge palace of a hospital. The lighting was cooler, the machinery quieter, and the staff more numerous. Some of these luxuries afforded Apple Bloom a level of comfort, and perhaps she would have been happy in her bandaged situation were it not for the lingering mysteries. What had gone wrong? 

Brow furrowed and shoulders tight, Apple Bloom tried to pinpoint details in her rattled memory. This was often interrupted by bouts of anxiety as she realized the consequences of her injuries: Mare Do Well would vanish from Canterlot for weeks, maybe months. At the heels of a such a devastating defeat, who knew what sort of grasp the Mangled Marks could reacquire? Was all her work for nothing? 

To fail is only to give up. Apple Bloom forced her worries aside and picked up her class registration packet. Getting back to school and establishing an alibi was more crucial than ever. 	

Sweetie Belle came by that afternoon. Questions and concerns hid behind her smiling face and pushed on the back of her eyes. “How are you feeling?” she asked. 

“Sore,” answered Apple Bloom. “But safe, I guess. Could have been worse. How are you?” 

“Um… fine…” Sweetie glanced over her shoulder and cleared her throat. “I was just wondering, uh… how that party of yours went the other night.” She smiled too hard. “And if you would care to share the details with me in terms of if and how things went terribly wrong.” 

“I’m tryin’ to piece it together myself,” Apple Bloom admitted. “What can you tell me from your end of things?” 

“I…” Sweetie leaned closer, whispering. “I stayed on the roof of that short tomb, like you said, and pulled the hooded stallion into the shadows. That black pegasus was right behind him, but I—eek!” She flinched and pressed a hoof to her horn. “Ohh… I think I might have strained something…” 

“You got him hid?” Apple Bloom asked. 

“Yes, yes, I got him away from the pegasus before I pulled him up to me.” Again, she glanced over her shoulder. “Then I hit him really hard with that stone you gave me and he passed out. Then I locked him in the tomb—I was so quiet, I’m sure nopony heard me—and ran off with the decoy as soon as I saw Rainbow Dash go first. Oh, I was so nervous they would catch me!” 

“But they didn’t getcha, right?” 

“No.” Sweetie shook her head, but winced and touched her horn again. “No, nopony caught me. I had a good head start. As soon as I found a good hiding place I stopped my magic and stayed as quiet as I could. Then I went home, just like you said, but… I was so worried!” 

“I’m sorry, Sweetie Belle,” Apple Bloom said. “I couldn’t risk you comin’ back. I didn’t know what would happen. How did you know I was here?” 

“Rainbow Dash found me,” she said. “But wouldn’t tell me anything except you where you were. She looked really sad.” She set a hoof on Apple Bloom. “What happened?”

“Rainbow came back to help me. I’m glad for it, too. That pegasus mighta killed me if she hadn’t flown in.” 

“Oh my!” Sweetie covered her mouth. 

“I just… gah, I was a fool,” Apple Bloom said, turning her face away. “I thought everypony he brought along with him would chase after the dummies. Turns out that black pegasus was onto us. Seems to be his top bodyguard. I kept telling him I didn’t know where his boss was, but he didn’t leave. Didn’t say a word, neither. Maybe he didn’t believe me or… maybe he was just there to kill me.” 

After a few deep breaths, Sweetie Belle closed her eyes. “Part of me thinks this is getting too dangerous,” she said. “And that you should just stop.” 

“Yeah, well… I’m gonna have to stop for a while,” Apple Bloom said, looking at her bandaged body. 

“I know, but… there’s another part of me,” Sweetie continue, opening her eyes, “that knows you have to get back out there as soon as you can. Mare Do Well is changing things, Apple Bloom. Ponies believe in something again. They’re trying.” She smiled and touched one of Apple Bloom’s hooves. “And you’re still alive, after all. You didn’t try to do this on your own, so you’re alive.” 

Apple Bloom smiled for just a moment. Then her eyes widened. “Oh, shoot! What did Rainbow do with my hat? Lyra must be worried sick!” 

“Don’t worry, Rainbow Dash is smarter than most of us think,” Sweetie said with a smile. “I’m sure the hat is safe and Lyra will be okay. I’ll get in touch with her and learn everything I can.” 

“Okay,” Apple Bloom said, nodding. “Thanks, Sweetie Belle. You’re such a good friend.” 

“We’ve been through a lot together.” Sweetie stroked Apple Bloom’s hoof. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.” 


(/\/\)
 	

“Hi-yah! Take that, and that!” Silver Medal punched his closet door, spun around and kicked, then slashed at it one wing at a time. He grinned at the crayon drawing of a large griffon taped there, hoof-pocked and peeling off the wall. 

“It’s perfect, Rainbow Dash!” he said, cracking his neck and rotating his wings at their joints. “Wow, this suit is phenomenal! It must have cost a fortune.” 

“Just one of my many fortunes,” Rainbow said, looking at her reflection in the window to push around a clump of her mane. “No biggie.” 

“Gah, still, I… I can’t thank you enough.” Silver Medal shook his head wildly, but the mane-concealing helmet didn’t budge. “It’s perfect.” 

“You do realize that you’re basically just complimenting yourself, right?” Rainbow asked. “You designed the dang thing. I just paid for it.” 

“Well, I’m just not used to this kind of quality coming from… anypony who’s not me,” he said, shrugging. “I’m just grateful you got this done right. I’ll be much safer now.” 

“And much less recognizable, which might even be more important at this point,” Rainbow said. “After what happened in the cemetery, bad guys are gonna be taking you and Mare Do Well way more seriously.” 

“Yeah, what did happen, anyway?” Silver Medal asked. “Have you talked with Mare Do Well since then? I haven’t heard anything from her and I’m getting kind of worried.” 

“Uh…” Rainbow looked at the ceiling. “Yeah, actually, I did see her the other night.”

Silver Medal’s wings carried him across the length of his room. “You did? Oh, thank goodness. What did she say? Did she ask about me?” 

“She’s actually, uh… she’s gonna take a break.” 

Silver Medal blinked. “What? Why?”

“The plan didn’t really work,” Rainbow Dash said. “She got hurt pretty bad. I mean, she’s fine, she just… I dunno, she’s just gonna take a break.” 

“Oh, shoot!” Silver Medal stomped one hoof. “What went wrong?” 

“The guy in the hood got away,” Rainbow said. “That’s really all I know.” 

“Well…” Silver Medal’s hooves started to patter and he looked all around the room. “We’ve gotta go find her! We have to make sure everything’s all right, we’ve gotta help her and—” 

Rainbow Dash put a hoof on his shoulder. “Look, you can go help Mare Do Well as much as you want, but me? I’m done, bro.” She sat on the edge of his bed. “I dunno, I’m getting old or something. It just doesn’t… like… feel like the right thing to do.” 

“What? No, no, you’re just tired. You said you’d help take down the Mangled Marks, and if the plan didn’t work we’re just gonna have to try again, no sweat.” 

Rainbow sighed. “Nah, I… I can’t be involved anymore. Especially if…” She swallowed. “Mare Do Well’s after the whole system, not just the Mangled Marks. Eventually she’ll make her way up to the top, and…” 

“Oh,” Silver Medal said quietly. He unlatched his helmet from the base of his neck and slid it off, looking his sister in the eyes. “Twilight?” 

Rainbow just grunted. “I can’t… I mean, if it ever got to the point that I’d have to…” 

“I get it,” Silver Medal said, raising a hoof. “That’s fine, Rainbow. You don’t need to keep at this. I think we can handle it.” He looked out the window. “I’m going back to Canterlot tonight to see if I can find Mare Do Well. We’ll get these Mangled Marks, then we’ll find Falcon, and one dirty group at a time we’ll clean up this country.” He turned back to Rainbow. “And if the day ever comes that Mare Do Well wants to face the Princess… we’ll be ready.” 

“Ready for what?” asked Rainbow Dash. 

“Ready to… to make the right choice,” Silver Medal said, nodding at nothing. “It’ll be okay.” 

“Yeah,” said Rainbow. She stood up. “We’ll see. Hey, when you find her, will you give her something for me?” 

Silver Medal smirked. “A big kiss on the lips? Sure, I’ll see what I can do.”

Rainbow rolled her eyes and trotted out of the room. “No, dummy. I need you to return—” She re-entered the room with something large and purple on her hoof. “—her hat.”

Gaping, Silver Medal froze in place. “Rainbow Dash… what the hay happened that night?” 

She tossed the hat onto the bed and turned around. “Just… get that back to her.” And she left. 

That night in Canterlot, Razorwing zig-zagged through the night sky on agile, armored wings, scanning the alleys and darkness below for signs of wrongdoing. If it weren’t for the lights in some apartment windows, the city might as well have been abandoned, even by its caped crusader. 

“Where is she?” Razorwing asked under his breath, propelling through the air into another district. A bad feeling settled in his chest and he slowed down with a few silent flaps, landing on the roof of a tall building to listen to the night. Leaping from roof to roof, he peered down into alleyways until he found a pair of large ponies talking to a twitchy mare with a sack of bits at her side. 

“Ooohh, yes,” Razorwing whispered. “Thank you, gut. You are amazing.” 

Using his wings for balance, he ran down the side of the building, hoofs slapping against its bricks. All three ponies looked up, startled. He called down, “Hey, fellas!” before smashing his metallic hooves down onto one of their heads. The stallion fell over, but his partner was fast. He swung at Razorwing and hit him on the helmet. Its matte, silver appearance didn’t even scratch. A dull ring bothered Razorwing’s ear for a moment, but the stallion’s hoof definitely came away with the most damage. 

“Ayeee!” he yelled, cradling his hoof as he bounced on his hind legs. 

“Yeesh, quiet down!” Razorwing said. “You’re gonna give us away!” 

His tail, wrapped in a chainlink sheath, swung into the stallion’s knees and sent him toppling backward. He hit his head against the ground and moaned. Razorwing smacked him in the side of the head, then turned to where the quaking mare had stood. 

She was gone. He quickly searched the two stallions, finding several bottles of pilled sap that he tucked into an elastic pocket on the chest of his armor. Flying out of the alley, he saw the mare galloping as fast as she could down the street. A few strong flaps later, he was gliding by her side. 

“Boy, can you believe what they’re charging for that stuff these nights?” he asked. “Outrageous! It’s probably because they’re demanding to be paid more. I hear their job is becoming more and more of a hazard, thanks to Mare Do Well and friends.” 

“Get away from me!” the mare croaked. “I didn’t do nothing wrong!” She made a sharp turn and tried to run faster. 

Razorwing floated above her. “Oh, I know, I know. I’m just wondering if you could take a breather and answer a few questions for me? I’d really appreciate it.” 

“Go buck yourself!” she shouted, stopping quickly and running in the other direction. 

“My, my!” Silverwing sung. “That was very rude, madame!” He feigned a sigh and cracked his neck. “I suppose we shall have to do this the hard way. Do excuse me for any inconvenience you may experience during the course this flight.” 

“Huh? WhhuuoooaaaaAAAAAHHHHHH!” The mare screamed as Razorwing scooped her up and carried her above the city. 

“Oh, man, this is too easy!” he said with a smile. “For living in a city precariously perched on the side of a mountain, you Canterlotians are unreasonably afraid of heights.” 

“Let me go!” she shrieked, beating her hooves against his armor. 

“Right now?” Razorwing looked down over his own shoulder. “Eh, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m trying to be the good guy here.” 

“Please, I didn’t do nothing!” she continued to yell. “Let me down! Let me go!” 

“All right, all right, I will! I’ll even take you home and give you a good-night hug, if you want. But first just tell me a little about the conversation you were just having with those rather large gentlecolts.” 

“Nothing, we wasn’t talking,” she said quieter, shivering in his hold. “They just asked me a question and, and…” 

“I’m not going to arrest you or hurt you or anything,” Razorwing said in an exasperated tone. “I just want to know more about their little operation. Do you always buy from them in the same place or do they move around?” 

She gulped. 

He bounced her a bit. “Hey, you don’t have much of a choice here, lady. Get talking!”

“Eeek! Th-they haven’t been here for a while,” she stammered. “There used to be just one little guy, but he didn’t show up for weeks. Just last night those two guys started showing up, I ain’t never seen them before!” 

“Okay, that’s very interesting,” Razorwing said, pushing his lips together in thought. “So, what, they think they can face Mare Do Well now?” 

“Mare Do Well?” the mare squeaked. “Mare Do Well ain’t done nothing! Haven’t you birds heard about it? They killed her!” 

A sudden rush of blood blurred Razorwing’s vision. “I highly doubt that.” 

“Dead spots all over the city are being opened up again,” the mare said. “I ain’t heard of no trouble til…” 

“Til me! Haha!” Razorwing dove with the mare in a tight grasp. She screamed again until he set her on the sidewalk. “Well, isn’t that convenient? How about you tell everyone you know that Mare Do Well is not dead, that she’s been busy making new friends, and that Razorwing—“ He let the sharp metal along the joints of his wings glisten for a moment in the Moonlight. “—is bringing back the dead spots. Maybe literally.” He shrugged. “We’ll see.” 

And with that, he took off into the night, leaving the mare to scramble away. The farther he got from her, the deeper his expression sunk into a worried frown. “Where are you, Mare Do Well?” he asked again. “I’ll take care of things around here while you’re gone, but… please come back soon.” 

He spotted another shady group of ponies on a street corner and swallowed as he tilted his wings. “Really soon.” 


(/\/\)
 

They say Manehattan never sleeps. One would think that crime might be more difficult to commit there, but when enough of the sleepless souls in its streets have bad intentions, crime is all too common.

That night, for example, a group of six masked ponies broke into a small corner bank, already closed for the night. The heist was their ninth together. They felt determined, excited, and most of all confident, considering the bright colors of their disguises: each was dressed as a member of the once great Elements of Harmony. The homemade costumes hung loosely from their bodies, and the masks over their faces were grotesquely large and malformed.

The thief dressed like Twilight Sparkle cast a spell on the biggest window. Its glass vanished. Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy leapt through the temporary hole. While Fluttershy disabled the alarms, Pinkie picked the front door’s lock and let the others in. Rainbow Dash and Applejack, holding a large drill between them, rammed into the safe and carved a hole in its center.

Rarity squeezed through the hole and began to shovel hooffulls of bits to her cohorts. They caught the bits in large fabric sacks, tying up one after another as they filled to the brim.

When she heard the spill of coins on the floor outside the safe, Rarity stopped. She bent over and listened, careful not to say a word. She couldn’t hear her companions; not a breath, not a step. She whistled… and a striped hoof shot through the hole, cracking and dislocating Rarity’s jaw.

“Gahhhhh!” Rarity, who was actually a stallion, shrieked in a low voice. By the time he looked up, a slender zebra had joined him in the safe. Her mane was long and braided tightly, draped over her neck and a colorful mask. The mask was bright blue and mouthless; the material over her eyes was shiny, blood red, and protruded like an insect’s.

The stallion’s eyes rose to something much more remarkable than a buggish mask. From the zebra’s striped back sprouted four translucent wings, huge ovals structured like leaves with silvery branching veins.

“What the…” he croaked.

The zebra’s wings buzzed, pulling her body into a spin. She twisted forward and brought a hind hoof down on top of Rarity’s head. The imposter crumpled as though the costume was filled with hay. The zebra squeezed back through the hole and hovered above the rest of the thieves, struggling to stand.

“What happened?” asked Fluttershy in a low, raspy voice.

“I got hit in the back of the head,” said Twilight.

“Me, too,” Rainbow Dash said in a far more feminine voice than the others.

“Oh, one of you really is a girl,” the zebra said from above. “I was starting to wonder.”

The robbers swung their masked faces up to look at her.

“How did she get in here?” Twilight asked. “Weren’t you two watching the entrance?”

“Of course we were,” said Pinkie Pie.

“Never looked away,” said Rainbow Dash.

“Then what happened?” Twilight spat.

“I hit you all at the same time,” the zebra explained.

Twilight snorted. “Impossible!”

“How?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“I’ll show you.” The zebra curled in on herself, like a dead spider buzzing in midair.

“What’s she…”

“Get out of here!” Rainbow yelled, diving for the exit.

The zebra threw her limbs out. Three more winged zebra in identical masks materialized in the bank, lunging at whatever Element of Harmony was nearest them. The robbers screamed and scrambled to escape, but the zebras punched and kicked and threw them until the screaming and movement had stopped.

The attacking zebras crumbled to dust, leaving only the first one hovering above. Exhausted, she fluttered to the ground as her wings wave out, taking a seat on her haunches. She wiped sweat from her brow and stretched.

“Three at once,” she said to herself, grinning. “Personal best.”

She pressed an emergency button behind one of the teller stations and waited by the front doors until she heard sirens. As soon as the police carriages got close, she galloped out of the corner bank and rose into the night on humming wings.


}{S}{M}{


Manehattan had the largest population of zebras in all of Equestria. While early immigrants had kept the customs of their ancestors, Abawe knew very few of her kind that insisted on rhyming everything they said. It made sense in their native language—almost every word rhymed with at least a hundred others—but in Equestrian, the effort was just too much. Earlier than some others, Abawe’s family had fully adopted Equestrian culture many generations before her birth.

The exception, of course, was her baba.

“Make your old grandfather smile,” he said as she trotted into the apartment. “Why not shed and stay a while?”

“Babaaaa,” Abawe groaned. She smoothed out her hoodie and frowned. “I’ve told you, I feel cold in here. I like keeping my jacket on.”

“Staying warm is well and good, but home is no place for a hood.”

“Leave her alone, Baba,” her father said. “She never puts her hood up indoors. Why not just settle for a nice hello when she gets home?”

She smiled at her father. They hugged tightly. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Welcome home, Abby. How was school?” her father asked.

“Why did you give her a powerful name, only to shorten it out of such shame?” asked Baba from his spot on the couch.

“I’m not…” Her father cut himself off, sighing through his nostrils and shooting Abawe a strained look.

She smiled. “Let’s eat something. We’ll feel better.”

Her father nodded. They trotted into the kitchen where a pot was already boiling on the stove next to a bag of flour.

Abawe beamed. “Fufu?” she asked.

“Fufu! With dark carrot stew.” He poured more flour in the boiling water and stirred it with a wooden spoon between his teeth.

“Yessss.” Abawe celebrated with a hoof pump. “It’s been a while.”

As her father cooked, Abawe pulled at the waist of her hoodie. He sent several concerned glances her way before he spoke.

“Abby… are you all right?”

“Hm?”

“You know… we could tell him,” he said.

Abawe shook her head. “No way. I’d rather hide in this hoodie and make excuses for a hundred years than tell Baba what happened to me.”

“He might be able to help, you know.” He took the pot off the stove and scooped the mass of dough onto a plate. “I’m not telling you what to do, I’m just saying: he will still love you, like I do. And honestly, he might know a cure.”

She shook her head. “It would freak him out to know his granddaughter grew wings. And if we’re being honest… I don’t know if I want to find a cure.”

Her father grinned, placing the plate in the middle of the table and pouring three bowls of dark carrot stew. “Have you been sneaking out at night?”

She hid her face. “Just for a while. Just to… fly around.”

He nodded. “I would do the same, I’m sure. Please, don’t do anything that could get you hurt. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Go insane?” Abawe guessed. “Slowly lose your mind until Baba mysteriously goes missing?”

“Ha! I’m afraid of how true that might be.”

He set one of the bowls in front of Abawe. She took a glob of fufu in her hoof, soaked it in the carrot stew, and scraped it into her mouth against her bottom lip, swallowing the chunk whole. “Mmmmm… this is delicious, Dad.”

“It better be. Stirring fufu isn’t easy.” He yelled into the hallway, “Baba! Fufu’s ready!”

Baba shuffled into the kitchen with a newspaper in his mouth. He spit it onto the kitchen counter, tapped on the front page, and said, “Canterlot has fallen in a dangerous spell under the charms of the Mare Do Well.”

Abawe’s father swallowed a bit of fufu and nodded. “For the first time in a while, I have to agree with you. Putting your faith in a mare in a mask can only lead to trouble.”

“Your rhymes are losing their touch, Baba,” Abawe said. “The meter’s not as good as it was when I was a kid.”

“Meter matters less than rhyme almost every single time,” he grumbled. “What do you think of the mare making problems over there?”

Abawe shrugged. “Uh… I think it’s pretty cool, actually. I’d have to meet her before I made a decision, I think. Maybe she’s really trying to make a difference.”

“Who she is or who she’s not will never slow the city’s rot.”

“Maybe Abby has a point, Baba,” said her father. “Perhaps whoever’s behind that mask is a good pony.”

“Hidden faces only provide a reason to question the equine inside,” Baba said, taking a seat at the table.

“Haven’t zebras used masks to send messages for thousands of years?” Abawe asked. She scooped a small pile of fufu out of the central plate and dropped it into Baba’s stew. “Maybe her mask means hope to the people of Canterlot.”

Her father smiled. Baba blew air through his snout.

“I do hope you’re not planning anything similar for Manehattan, Abby,” her father said after a few quiet moments of eating. He gave her a meaningful glance.

She shook her head. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’m no Mare Do Well.”


}{S}{M}{


“I’m Spritemare.” 

She struck a pose… then sighed and cracked her neck, resetting in front of the mirror. “Come on, come on… cooler, smoother.”

Abawe adjusted her mask and brushed several long braids out of her eyes. “Okay, okay, okay, okay…”

She folded in her wings, jumped as high as she could, and spread all four majestically, hovering in place while she stared herself down in the glass.

“I’m Spritemare.”

She landed, satisfied, and pulled off her mask. A wide smile replaced its light blue fabric. “I wonder how Mare Do Well says it,” she whispered to herself.

Abawe closed her eyes and crouched, concentrating on all four corners of her bedroom. She imagined herself with as much detail as possible. A tingle of energy started in her stomach and climbed up her spine to her mind. Straightening up sharply, she allowed the energy to pulse outward from her skull. In two corners of her room, perfect doppelgangers appeared out of thin air.

In the other two corners…

“Oh, gross…” Abawe held her hooves up to her snout and gagged. She shut her eyes and centered her focus within her own body; the meaty, deformed versions of herself, along with the fully formed ones by the window, crumbled into nothing. 

She shuddered. “Three is good enough, I guess.”

There was a knock at her bedroom door. “Abby?” her father whispered.

Abawe tore off her mask and threw it under the bed. She tucked her wings as close to her sides as she could. “Yes, Dad?”

He opened the door and stepped quietly in. “Is everything okay? You should be asleep, sweetheart.”

“I know, sorry,” she said. “Did I wake you up?”

“No, I’ve been reading.” He yawned. “What’s all the ruckus in here?”

“I’m just…” She lifted her wings a big. “It’s hard to get comfortable with these. I… got frustrated.”

Her father’s expression fell. “Oh, Abby… I’m so sorry.” 

He drew nearer and held out a tentative hoof. “May I?” 

Abawe nodded. 

He touched one of her thin wings gingerly. “Do they hurt?”

“No,” she said. “They’re actually pretty strong.”

“I can tell.” He put down his hoof and sighed. “Abby, are you sure you told me everything? I’m proud of you for confiding in me, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep any secrets.”

She shook her head. “I’ve told you everything, Dad. The parasprite was glowing, it bit me on the shoulder, and the next morning I woke up with these.”

“Have you been able to sleep at all?” he asked. “You’ve looked so tired all week.”

She rubbed an eye. “Not much. But I don’t mind, really. I don’t feel very tired.”

“I still think we should go to a doctor,” he said. “Or at least tell Baba. He was alive during the parasprite epidemic in the Zebrahara. Surely he might know something about them that can help.”

“It doesn’t feel like something I need to get fixed, Dad.” She flapped and rose some feet into the air. “Flying feels so natural. I don’t want to get rid of this.”

He gazed at her, breathless. “It is truly amazing,” he said, “but… Abby, it’s not natural. I don’t want some hidden side effect to end up hurting you. And I certainly don’t want you getting any ideas from that Mare Do Well character.”

“Don’t worry, Dad, I won’t do anything stupid,” she said, landing on her bed and rubbing her front hooves together.

“Good, because—”

Abawe waited for him to continue. “Because you don’t want to lose me?”

There was no answer.

“I get it, Dad. I don’t remember Mom very well, but… I wish I did.”

Silence.

Abawe looked at him. “Dad?”

Her father’s eyes were wide and dark. His mouth hung slightly open.

Abawe blinked. “Dad? Are you okay?” She reached out for him.

He spun around. With a strange gait—moving his legs a full gallop, but inching forward very slowly—her father left the room and started tripping down the hall.

“Dad?” Abawe watched him warily. “Do you need something?”

Baba emerged from his bedroom, performing a similar bouncy trot. The two zebras made their way single file out of Abawe’s sight toward the front door.

She frowned and grabbed the mask under her bed before following. “Baba, can you hear me? Dad?”

Her father opened the front door and, without closing it behind them, both he and Baba hurried out of the apartment and down to the street. Abawe stuck her head outside and gasped. Hundreds of ponies, zebras, and donkeys, all with a similar glaze over their eyes, marched through the streets at a bizarre pace. She watched more of them leave their homes to join the strange parade. The Moon shone bright overhead and the Manehattan air was chilly, but none of the prancing ponies seemed to mind. All of them were headed east, joining an even larger crowd at the nearest intersection.

“What the…” Abawe shut her door and slid on her mask. She hurried to her window, threw it open, and leapt into the night. She flew as high as she dared and looked down at the scene. The entire district seemed affected, its streets flooded with the dazed, many of whom she recognized. East was their only clear goal, so Abawe followed the mass to its front.

A single pony walked several yards ahead of the crowd’s front lines. His trot was normal, if unusually full of purpose. He stuck out his chest and sauntered to an inner rhythm. Around his face was a red bandana. Some metal discs attached behind his hooves clinked with every step.

And he was laughing.

“Hyeh hyeh hyeh! Come one, come all!” His accent was thickly southern. “Join us on this lovely evening of decisive protest! Cast aside yer holy leader and come follow me! Princess Sparkle ain’t done nothin’ for y’all. I shall lead you to greener pastures than this foul city can offer. Let me into your hearts and minds! Let my light spur you on! Youch!”

His mobile sermon was interrupted by a swift kick in the bandana. He tumbled to the ground but hopped quickly to his hooves, searching for his attacker. “Who’s there?” He looked up toward the Moon and saw a masked zebra hovering overhead. “What in Tartarus? Who are you?”

Abawe smiled. “I’m Spritemare,” she said.

The crowd behind the bandana-clad pony had stopped moving, but continued to gallop and flail in place. Their sea of wobbling eyes glittered in the Moonlight.

The lucid stallion bowed deeply. “Well, a pleasure to meet you, flying zebra. Ain’t never seen one o’ yer kind before. I am the Spur, and you may call me thusly.”

“Where are you taking them?” Spritemare asked, darting closer.

The Spur flinched, but held his ground. “Why, far away, of course! I have a number of boats prepared at the docks of Manehattan. Just as their ancestors sailed to this land in search of freedom, I shall take them away from the clutches of their evil dictator.”

“They’re hypnotized,” said Spritemare. “You’re taking them to freedom against their will?”

He chuckled. “I see how that might be confusing to one unenlightened such as yourself,” the Spur shouted over the sound of the stomping ponies behind him, “but fear not, child. I have the power to illuminate your mind and open your eyes… through your ears!”

He stomped on the ground in a similar fashion to the mindless horde in tow. The metal circles strapped to his hooves rattled and rang as he bucked. Hundreds of ponies in the crowd reacted to the sound, moaning and hollering into the night.

Spritemare was unfazed. “Nice dance,” she said.

His eyebrows strained. “What? How did you… Ain’tchu a horse?” He looked behind him and scanned the masses. “Zebras are horses, right?”

“Zebras are, yes.” She landed and crouched menacingly. “But I’m Spritemare.”

The Spur didn’t hesitate. He lashed out at her with one of his hooves. She leapt away from the metal circle’s sharp, serrated edges. 

“You’re a quick’n,” he said.

She jumped, vaulting above him at breakneck speed, and punched him on top of the skull. He groaned and stumbled forward.

“You’re not,” she teased.

The Spur kicked and swung at her. She dodged every swipe, delivering a few quick punches to his ribcage and neck. He stopped, cringing, panting for breath.

“Let them go,” Spritemare said.

The bandana had fallen around his neck. He looked up at Spritemare with a crooked smile. “These are my ponies now,” he said. He pressed his teeth into his bottom lip and, with a jangle of one hoof, whistled a piercing tone.

All at once, the silly, bouncing ponies became an army. They ran and leapt at Spritemare, screaming and throwing their limp limbs around in an effort to ground her. With three wrapped around her middle and limbs, she buzzed her wings at a manic speed and rose above the group. After shaking off the attackers, Spritemare found the grinning Spur among the crowd below. She dove and tried to grab him.

A dozen ponies picked up some of their companions and threw them at Spritemare. She couldn’t avoid all of them; they pulled her to the ground and flipped her on her back. More ponies than she could count surrounded her, pushing down her legs and wings with all their weight. She yelled in pain and struggled to break free. 

The Spur approached and stood near her tail.

“Get them off me!” she shouted.

Ever smiling, the Spur nodded at a group of ponies who pulled her tail taut. She watched in horror as the Spur crossed two metal circles over the base of her tail.

“No, stop!” she shrieked.

He yanked his hooves apart, slicing off her tail. The shock gave her a bout of strength. She shook one leg loose and kicked the Spur’s snout. He fell into the crowd, bowling over ponies in a chain reaction that upset everyone holding her down. Spritemare kicked and squirmed until she rolled over and took off like a firework. 

Her wings were sore and crumpled. She struggled to gain altitude, ignoring the sting in her tail, and crashed on the roof of a nearby apartment building.

She only had a moment to rest. “After her!” the Spur cried below. A group of pegasi flew clumsily to the roof. She curled into a ball and concentrated. The pegasi wobbled closer…

Three tailless doppelgangers materialized around her in a circle. They easily fended off the pegasi, then dove over the edge of the building. Spritemare stood and limped to where she could see the action below. 

The Spur screamed as the doppelgangers dove together again and again, staving off the jumping ponies and kicking him wherever they could. He tried to run, but one of the winged zebras smashed a hoof into the back of his head. The Spur fell face first onto the pavement, and his spell was immediately lifted.

As she focused, Spritemare’s doppelgangers disappeared just before the ponies came to their senses. From their screams and apologies to each other, it was clear they remembered everything. Spritemare dropped to her belly and breathed, massaging her pulsing temples.

“Hey, there he is!” she heard somepony shout. “He’s getting away!”

“Stop him!”

She heard a commotion and summoned all her strength to peer over the edge. The Spur stumbled into a dark alley, chased by several ponies. Moments later, they emerged dumbfounded.

“He’s gone!” one said.

“Vanished!”

A worried murmur spread through the crowd. Spritemare backed away from the edge and tried to sit on her haunches, only to jump from a sharp pain. Nervously, she looked at the bloody stub behind her and shivered. 

“Shoot… Dad’s gonna kill me.”
> 14 - A Sordid Ordeal
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A SORDID DEAL


It surprised Apple Bloom how much she enjoyed being back at school. It was nice to be anonymous among so many ponies trotting around her in open daylight. Only with so many opportunities to watch and listen did she notice how attuned her senses had become. Inane conversations met her ears along the path to her first class. 

For most ponies, the semester was already well underway. Nearly two months had passed since the graveyard, and Apple Bloom had healed quickly. Being an earth pony had its perks. Parts of her body were still tender, but that morning she had scaled a building without much more than a grimace and decided it was time to go to school.

Her first class of the day, once again, was with Doctor Joe Cossitee. Apple Bloom entered the auditorium and found a seat early. She was one of the first ten ponies to arrive, and she sat in front of an open notebook before the professor arrived. As other students trickled in, she recognized none of their faces.

Dr. Cossitee trotted into the auditorium from a lower door. He opened a briefcase on the podium and dragged his mismatched, blue and pink eyes over the growing student body. Class hadn't started yet and the students talked amongst themselves as he observed them. His eyes fell on Apple Bloom and he beamed, waving at her subtly. She waved back, happy to be recognized.

She had a hard time following the lecture but took as many notes as she could. When the bell rang and the class ended, she hurried down the steps of the auditorium to meet with her professor.

"Well, if it isn't Apple Bloom back from the void," he said as she approached. "What in the world happened to you? You disappeared without a trace."

Apple Bloom shrugged. "I had a family emergency and had to go back home."

He raised an eyebrow. "You went back to Ponyville? How did you manage that?"

For a moment, a lump rose in Apple Bloom's throat. Just as quickly, she composed herself and said, "Nah, most of my family moved to Manehattan. I went there."

Dr. Cossitee nodded. "Ah, I see. I hope you didn’t get caught up in that hypnosis kerfuffle I keep hearing about.”

Apple Bloom shook her head. “No, by some stroke o’ luck I missed all that.”

“Thank goodness,” he said. “You know, I've never been to Manehattan in my life. Is it true what they say, that you can't see the tops of the skyscrapers?"

"You can see 'em," she said, smiling. "They're just real tiny up there."

"That certainly makes more sense." He turned his attention to organizing his briefcase while addressing Apple Bloom. "I assume you have questions about the material. I'm glad to have you back, but you did miss quite a bit of important introduction."

Apple Bloom didn't hear him. Her eyes were glued to the open briefcase, particularly on a small piece of paper tucked inside.

“I’d be happy to go over whatever you need. The textbooks will cover all the information, of course, but sometimes it’s nice to have clarification.”

There was a drawing on the paper. Of a cemetery.

“Anything from today’s lecture you wanted to talk about, Apple Bloom?”

She recognized the drawing. She had sketched it herself, after all, and instructed a terrified criminal to deliver it to the leader of the Mangled Marks.

“Apple Bloom?”

She looked at her professor’s markless flank. Her eyes widened.

"Are you all right?"

"You're him," she said under her breath.

Dr. Cossitee squinted. "I'm sorry?"

Apple Bloom looked over her shoulder. Several students were still in the auditorium, shuffling slowly out of the doors in a bustling funnel.

She looked back at her professor’s mismatched eyes, peering intently into her own. He glanced down at the cemetery sketch. She watched his eyebrows slowly rise.

"I…” She frowned. “I need your help, Doctor Cossitee. Could I come to your office sometime and… get caught up a bit?"

He looked her up and down. Both of their faces were flat, strained.

"Of course, Miss Bloom," he finally said. He took a pencil in a white aura of magic and wrote an address on the back of the cemetery sketch. "Visit me here any evening you'd like. It’s my home address. A mare like yourself would do well to keep it private. I’d love to help you understand what's really going on."

She grabbed the paper in her teeth. Their eyes held contact for a few long seconds, then she bolted out the same lower door he had used to enter. Without even thinking about her next class, Apple Bloom galloped off campus for the last time. She didn't need an alibi anymore: she needed a plan to permanently dismantle Joe Cossitee and his Mangled Marks.


(/\/\)


That night she put on the Mare Do Well costume Sweetie Belle had worn in the cemetery. It was a bit too tight, and the cone of fabric for Sweetie's horn hung limply over her snout.

"You'll have to make me a new mask," she said.

"You can use Rainbow Dash's for now," she said, digging it out of their closet.

"She brought it back?" Apple Bloom asked.

“Yeah. And when she dropped it off," Sweetie Belle whispered, "she said she gave the hat to Razorwing. She said he's looking for you here in the city, whenever you're ready to get it back."

"Then I'll make plum sure he finds me," Apple Bloom said, sliding the new mask over her head. "Why didn't she just bring the hat herself?"

"Probably to give Razorwing something to do," Sweetie said. She smiled as she helped adjust Apple Bloom's cape. "I didn't get to talk to him for very long that night when we went over the plan, but it's obvious he really likes you. Maybe Rainbow Dash is trying to set you up."

Apple Bloom scoffed. "Oh, please, Sweetie Belle. Rainbow Dash knows how serious this is. We don't have time for any stupid romance."

Sweetie shrugged. "He seemed cute to me."

Apple Bloom opened the window. "I'll see you later, Sweetie Belle. Thanks for all your help."

"Oh, real quick, Apple Bloom!" Sweetie said. "How was school?"

Apple Bloom jumped onto the window sill and looked out into the night. "Enlightening," she said in a Trottingham growl, and leapt.


(/\/\)


“Freaking finally!” said Razorwing, flapping only once to slow himself before landing at a gallop. He skidded to Mare Do Well, sitting quietly on her haunches by a gargoyle. “Where have you been? I thought you were dead!”

She glanced at him. “What?”

He waved a hoof around. “Ah, it’s just a rumor going around. I knew it was hooey. But I’m glad you’re here, this place is getting bad without you!”

“It’s been bad for a long time,” she said, staring out into the quiet streets.

“Yeah, well, it’s getting worse. All of Equestria is getting worse! Did you hear about Manehattan?”

“I heard you have something of mine,” she said.

“I mean, I’ve done everything but straight up murder these ponies, and more keep cropping up every night.”

Apple Bloom shuddered. “Do you have my hat?” she snapped.

“Oh, right….” Razorwing set it on the ground between them. “It’s a little crumpled, but… dang, what happened to your costume?”

She glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

Razorwing grinned. “I dunno, it looks different. Like…” He blushed. “I dunno, kinda sexy.”

“What?” Mare Do Well craned her neck to look at herself. “Where?”

“Well, in the hips, mostly…” Razorwing seemed to catch himself and cleared his throat. “Uh, sorry. What do you want me to do now? Are you back for good, or what?”

Mare Do Well stared at her waist and hindquarters for just a moment longer before snapping her head back to her city. “I’m back. I have important business to conduct tonight, but you should get back to Cloudsdale. I doubt their streets have cleared much without you.”

“Oh, Cloudsdale’s not nearly as messed up as Canterlot. Not yet, anyway. Let me stay here and help you!”

“Not tonight,” Mare Do Well said, picking up her hat. “I need some time to find my stride again. I will get in touch with you when I need you again, Razorwing. And I doubt it will be long before then.”

He sighed. “All right, fine. Just don’t, uh… don’t get too hurt out there, okay? They’re still after you.”

Mare Do Well nodded and Razorwing jumped off the terrace, soaring on agile wings to the outskirts of the city. When he had vanished into the night, Apple Bloom hastily pulled the purple hat over her ears.

“Lyra?” she asked aloud. “Lyra? Unsung!? Can you hear me?”

There was no answer. She wasn’t surprised—Lyra had to initiate a magical trance before the connection was formed.

She pulled the hat tighter onto her head and unclipped the cemetery sketch from her utility belt. The address on the back led her to the apartment complex directly in front of her perch. After only a few seconds of gliding, Apple Bloom stood on the pavement before the building Doctor Joe Cossitee called home.

She had already swept the premises for any traps, reinforcements, or trickery before finding Razorwing. It was a nice part of town: nothing and nopony suspicious was anywhere in sight. At the gate of the apartment complex, Apple Bloom—in full Mare Do Well garb—pressed the button on the intercom system with “COSSITEE” printed beside it. After a few dull rings, and despite the late hour, a low voice soon answered:

“Hello?”

“I found you,” she said.

There was silence for a moment, and then he said, “Come up. Fourth floor.” The gate to the complex clicked open, and Mare Do Well hurried inside.

Her heart hammered and her cape whipped as she rushed quietly up a narrow staircase, twisting back and forth until she reached the fourth floor. One of the dark wooden doors on the fourth landing stood open, and she hesitated at the edge of the staircase.

She stepped through the door quietly. Her concealed eyes darted from corner to dimly lit corner of the small but well furnished apartment. The bright Moon behind a thin veil of clouds shone through glass doors that led to a balcony on the far wall. An open kitchen connected to a hallway that led out of sight, but her target sat on a long couch in a stream of Moonlight, wrapped in a crimson robe, holding a steaming cup of tea in his white, twinkling magic.

“Please close the door,” he said. His blue eye did not shine in the darkness and appeared nearly black, but his pink eye glowed and revealed that his gaze was locked on her every move. Despite his calm stance and steady voice, he was ready to fight were she to attack. 	
She did not plan to attack, nor did she plan to be attacked. Without looking away, she softly kicked the door closed behind her and stood still in the apartment’s small foyer. She hazarded a hidden glance to the connected rooms, noticing several artistic trinkets from cultures around the world. A sitar from Haissan hung on a wall near Dr. Cossitee in the living room, and a miniature mask from the Zebrahara, which Apple Bloom new to mean “Welcome”, balanced on a cabinet not far from the entryway.

“Why did you come dressed in all that?” Dr. Cossitee asked.

Apple Bloom didn’t have an answer at first. “Principle,” she eventually said.

Dr. Cossitee chuckled. “I respect that.” He watched the wisps of steam rise from his tea. “Still, it seems unnecessary. As you can see, I did not wear my cloak.”

“So you really are him,” Apple Bloom said. She maintained her Trottingham accent through it all. “You’re the leader of the Mangled Marks.”

“I direct them, yes,” he said.

“You killed Harper Heartstrings,” she said, taking a step forward.

Dr. Cossitee frowned. “What a stupid ordeal. His death was regrettable. If I’d have known how much trouble it would cause us in the long run, I would have just let it go.”

“Why didn’t you? He didn’t do anything to you!”

“Quiet down, Apple Bloom,” he hissed. “It is the middle of the night and we are not alone here. Not like I thought we were in the graveyard.”

“You brought your goons along,” she said. “I had every right to bring help.”

“I was under the impression that we were there to talk, one on one,” he said, sipping at his tea. “I was going to dismiss the others once I had your word that I would not be harmed. As I was trying to tell you that night, there is more to the Mangled Marks than you seem to understand.” He took another sip. “But now that you have joined me in my home, and now that we are both aware that the other is a respectable person outside of this dramatic feud of ours—” He set down his tea. “—I believe we may discuss, maturely, how we might work together to accomplish our common goals.”

“Work together?” Apple Bloom snarled. “I’ll never work with you. You’re a murderer. You sell horrible drugs and ruin ponies’ lives.”

Dr. Cossitee shook his head. “All a means to an end. A mask, much like yours.”

“How dare you!”

“Apple Bloom, please, quiet down. I will not ask again.”

Apple Bloom’s breathing was quick and ragged. She swallowed. “We’re alone here?”

“Yes. Completely. Not even Aether knows where I live.”

“That’s the big pegasus?”

“He prefers tall,” said Dr. Cossitee, “but yes, you’re thinking of the right one.”

“He almost killed me.” She took another step closer. “How do I know that wasn’t on your orders?”

Dr. Cossitee sat up straighter in his chair. “Aether is fiercely loyal. You might say to a fault, though I never would. I was not conscious during your… squabble, but I imagine he was very angry. You tried to take someone he cares about. You can hardly blame him for lashing out.”

“I am gonna kill you.” Apple Bloom’s natural drawl came back strong.

Dr. Cossitee stood up.

“I’m gonna rip you to shreds for whatchu did to Harper.”

“And who is that going to help?”

Apple Bloom made a move as if to jump at him, but stayed where she was. It scared Dr. Cossitee enough to shoot out a burst of magic from his horn. The spark whizzed over Apple Bloom’s head.

“Careful, Professor,” she said menacingly. “You don’t want the death of two students on your hooves, do you?”

“You can’t prove anything, Apple Bloom, if that’s your plan,” he said. The pitch of his voice was rising. “I’ve been doing this for years. You can’t stop what I’ve begun.”

“I can, and I sure as Tartarus will.”

“You wouldn’t want to if you knew what I was after.”

“What, Cossitee?” Apple Bloom spat. “Money? The throne? Your very own Cutie Mark?”

Dr. Cossitee scowled. “I am trying to put an end to the most dangerous mare in Canterlot.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Apple Bloom sneered.

“Not you, idiot. Satin. You think what I do to this town is harmful? Her devoted clan, the Gonne, deal daily in pony trafficking. You think you were the first student of mine who disappeared without a trace? I thought they’d gotten you, too.”

Apple Bloom listened.

“Satin is a genius. An evil genius. She is not taking over Equestria, she is dismantling it from the shadows. When is the only time you’ve seen her operate? Or do you even remember?”

“The sky docks,” Apple Bloom said. “Your Mangled Marks were helpin’ the Gonne load up a blimp full of ponies.”

“Were they, now?” His eyes narrowed. “And tell me, how many other shipments have you been able to stop since then, hmm? How many ponies have you saved from Satin’s ring without the help of the Mangled Marks?”

“Oh, please, Cossitee, you want me to believe—”

“It took me years to build enough trust to infiltrate that circle, Apple Bloom. Years of deceit and preparation. I want nothing more than to see the Gonne crumble and their leader dead. And you ruined my plan in its budding stages!” 

He stomped a hoof so loudly that Apple Bloom flinched.

There was silence as the stallion composed himself.

“I will admit, the death of a friend, such as you have endured, is detestable,” he continued. “So, since neither his death nor the foiling of my plans were intentionally aimed at each other, I believe we can consider ourselves even at this point, if both severely disadvantaged.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“I’d like to propose a brief union of our forces,” said Dr. Cossitee. “For our mutual benefit, and to repair damages caused to one another, I think we should work together to remove Satin from her position of power in this city.”

“You do realize I’m tryin’ to do damages to you, right?” Apple Bloom asked.

“If you help us end this… if you help me,” Dr. Cossitee continued, “my work will be done. I will personally ensure the collapse of the Mangled Marks, and you will have taken two birds with one stone.”

“Wait… you want us to take down the Gonne together, and then you’ll just disband your own gang?”

“The Mangled Marks is a front, the only true purpose of which is to eliminate Satin. The underworld is a complicated and intricate web of who’s who, and I have had to stoop to great lows in order to learn what I know of her now.” He sat in his chair and touched his hooves together. “I had another plan to find Satin on my own, but it would have involved the uninterrupted success of that cooperative shipment. The Gonne were very hesitant to try working with us again after that, believing that somehow it was our presence that brought along the Mare Do Well.”

Apple Bloom swallowed. “So… what’s your big plan now?”

“As it is believed that you are dead at Aether’s hoof,” he said with the twinge of a smile, “the Gonne are giving us another chance. We are to aid them in an intricate heist, after which I am to deliver our spoils to Satin myself. Though I’m sure she will take measures to protect herself, I think that together we may be able to incapacitate her permanently.”

“I’m guessin’ you mean kill her,” Apple Bloom said with a frown.

“Indeed, as any other method of justice would surely lead to her return.” Dr. Cossitee leaned toward Apple Bloom. “You don’t have a problem with that, do you? Wasn’t it you only moments ago threatening to murder me?”

Apple Bloom offset her jaw. “I don’t trust you, Cossitee. Not a bit.”

“But you know I am intelligent,” he said, sitting back comfortably. “And I believe the same of you. Take your time to decide, Apple Bloom. Consult your little friends, if you deem it useful. But the heist will require you and only you.”

“You’re insane, Cossitee.” She looked at the Moon through the large glass doors leading from the apartment to the balcony. “But I imagine you’re pretty dang rich, ain’tcha?” she asked.

Cossitee raised an eyebrow. “I have… plenty of wealth, yes.”

“This shouldn’t break your budget, then,” she said, tipping her hat to him. In a violet blur, she sprinted across the length of the apartment and smashed through the glass. With a million shards glittering around her, Mare Do Well leapt from the balcony and threw open her cloak, falling into the night as a cloud rolled over the Moon.


(/\/\)


Dr. Joe Cossitee went by a different name among the Mangled Marks, though he kept his esteemed suffix as it seemed to impress his cronies.

“Doctor Trepony,” said a thick mare with a broken lightbulb for a Cutie Mark, “the ponies you summoned are here.”

“All of them?” he asked, glaring at the pony from under his shadowy hood. “How many are there?”

“Four,” the mare answered.

Dr. Trepony nodded. “Bring them up here.”

The mare went back down through the roof entry to fetch them. 

Dr. Trepony stood next to Aether and observed the castle above, bathed in Moonlight. “This is it, my friend,” he said. “Are you ready?”

Aether nodded.

“Good. We can’t afford any mistakes tonight.”

The burly mare returned with four ponies of varying shapes and sizes, each dressed in tight black clothing that concealed all but their eyes.

“Each of you has been specially chosen to represent the Mangled Marks in the most ambitious heist in Canterlotian history,” Dr. Trepony began. “You will be working with Aether and following strict orders from the Gonne. You will meet them, dressed as castle guards, in the castle gardens. There can be no detection whatsoever. Leaving casualties is not an option. Am I understood?”

The four ponies nodded.

“We begin in thirty seconds. Are there any questions?”

“Why isn’t he wearing one of these things?” a brown eyed stallion asked, tugging at his tight black jumpsuit and pointing at Aether.

The great black pegasus backed into a dark corner of the rooftop. He crouched and closed his eyes. Within seconds, though the other ponies squinted into the shadows, Aether was completely invisible.

“Oh,” said the brown eyed stallion.

“Go,” said Dr. Trepony. He watched the four of them follow Aether off the edge of the building into the branches of a tall tree. They leapt noiselessly from one tree to another toward the gardens. The smallest of the four had a uniquely powerful leap. Dr. Trepony smiled.


(/\/\)


Two guards stood silent at the doors to the grand ballroom, staring into the garden. Any splendor it once boasted was long gone: shriveled plants and wilting trees gave way to weeds and neck-high grass. Not the chirp of a bird or the scuttling of a squirrel had been heard there for years.

Both guards jumped when an enormously tall pegasus rose from the grass like a living shadow. Its long, skeletal face nodded deeply. One of them swallowed and knocked a rehearsed rhythm on the castle doors. Two more guards opened them from the inside. Aether flapped once and swept past all four, taking a seat in the center of the empty ballroom.

The four ponies in black followed him, and the guards entered last. Two them shed their armor to reveal unicorns with carefully coiffed manes and business suits.

“You’re gonna sneak through the castle in that?” asked the brown eyed stallion. 

Aether reached out and smacked him between his ears.

“Ouch! Sorry, uhhh… nice suits.”

“They’ll stay here and open the doors for you when the target is secure,” said a suited mare, gesturing to the armored guards. “Two of you will come with us and retrieve the decoy from the basement; the others will go with Aether.”

“I’ll come with you!” said the brown eyed stallion, but Aether shook his head. The stallion whimpered and lowered his snout.

“You two come with us,” said the suited mare. She pointed at the smallest pony with amber eyes and a wide, grumpy looking stallion.

The other suited Gonne, a bearded stallion, checked the watch on his wrist. “We need to start now.”

“Split up,” said the mare. “Aether, you know what to do.”

Aether nodded. Like a snake made of midnight, he dashed across the ballroom and climbed a flight of stairs. Two of the Mangled Marks followed him hastily. 

The others slipped into a long, empty hallway. The Gonne led them through the castle, creeping along the walls.

“How did you two get in here?” whispered the grumpy looking stallion.

“We’ve been posing as guards for months,” the suited stallion said. “We had a few close calls at first, but even Shining Armor recognizes us now.”

“Shining Armor?” the smallest pony asked. “You mean… the Princess’ brother?”

“He’s still the Captain of the Guard. Rumor is he hasn’t left the castle once since Princess Sparkle took power.”

More than a few times they had to sneak past patrolling guards, but it was obvious that all four of them were skilled in the shadows. Before long they reached a narrow wooden door that the suited mare unlocked with her magic.

“This way to the basement,” she said, ushering the others through first.

The staircase was built into one of the castle’s corner towers. It spiralled tightly; the ponies followed its stone steps downward into total darkness. The unicorns knew where to stop without igniting their horns.

“Through here,” one said. “Stay quiet. Watch for any guards.”

The Mangled Marks had to feel along the curved wall for an opening. An empty archway led them into the cold basement deep within the mountain. Every step they took, however light, echoed through the darkness for several seconds.

“I can’t see anything,” the grumpy stallion said.

“Hold on.” The unicorns trotted past the Mangled Marks. “This is where we need you. The Princess regularly boxes up items in the castle and sends them to the basement. We put the decoy in one of those boxes. This place is enormous, but there are always guards patrolling and we can’t risk lighting our horns. We’ll cast a spell on each of you to let you see in the dark, but we won’t be able to move while its active.”

“Got it,” said the small pony. “What does the box look like?”

“We marked it on the bottom. We didn’t want anypony to notice.”

“No problem. Let’s get started.”

The unicorns’ horns sparked once, and the other two could suddenly see the basement in black and white. Their mouths fell open at the expansive chambers before them.

“What do you see?” the suited mare asked.

“Giant shelves,” said the stallion, “stacked to the ceiling with boxes.”

“Well then, get started! Find the box with Satin’s mark on the bottom.”

The ponies scrambled from shelf to shelf. Every box was nearly as large as they were, and some were heavier than others. They tilted each one back and checked the bottom, careful not to knock anything over.

“Quiet!” one of the Gonne whispered. 

The flicker of a distant torch cast a faint light into the chamber. A guard stepped into the spacious room and scanned the shelves. All four thieves had tucked themselves behind boxes; they held their breath and waited.

The guard turned and walked down an adjacent hallway. Nopony moved until his torchlight was gone, and then the frantic search for the marked box continued.

“I think I found it!” whispered the small pony. “Does Satin’s mark look like a spiky salt shaker?”

“You don’t know the mark of the Gonne?” one of the unicorns hissed.

“Yes, that’s it,” said the other. “Open it, quickly. What do you see?”

The pony was soon joined by the grumpy stallion. Together they popped open the lid and rummaged through its contents.

“Whoa… there’s a bunch of scrolls,” said the small pony. “Like… a ton of scrolls.”

“Ignore those. What else? Is there a mirror?” 

The scrolls smelled of burnt parchment, but showed no signs of singeing. The ponies pushed them to the sides of the box.

“Oh, yes! Here, at the bottom, there’s a mirror!” The pony tried to lift it and nearly lost her balance. “Whooa! It’s heavy!”

“Here, I’ll help,” said the grumpy stallion. “Make sure none of these scrolls fall out.”

Slowly, they lifted the mirror from the bottom of the box. It was very long and narrow, but the stallion carried it on his back down the shelves to the basement’s cold floor while the mare replaced every loose scroll and closed the box.

They ran together to the corner staircase in the tower. “Okay, we got it!” the mare whispered to the unicorns. “You can stop your spell. Come on!”

Everything went black. “Go, go!” said one of the unicorns. The four of them hurried up the stairs, slowing only when the glow of Moonlight graced their eyes again.

“Now quickly, up to the royal chambers!”

“What!?” snapped the little mare. “To the Princess?”

“No, we won’t even get close to the Princess,” the Gonne stallion said. “She keeps the mirror where Celestia used to sleep.”

“What mirror?”

Nopony answered. They traversed the castle in silence, slinking from one long staircase to the next, until they reached the highest suites. The upper levels of the castle were more heavily guarded, but with a bit of distraction magic and skill, the four thieves were able to find Celestia’s abandoned bedroom within minutes. One of its doors was slightly ajar.

Aether and the other of the Mangled Marks were removing an ornamental upright mirror from a heavy stand. Seconds after the Gonne had entered with the decoy, the mirror clicked and fell away from its horseshoe shaped support. Aether caught the huge mirror and set it away from the group noiselessly.

The Gonne stallion used his magic to fit the decoy mirror into the empty frame. Quickly, the Mangled Marks fiddled with latches in the back to keep it in place.

“A little left… that’s perfect, right there,” said the Gonne mare. “That’s where it was.”

“These mirrors aren’t identical,” said the brown eyes Mangled Mark, stepping away from the mirror’s thick. “It’s a bit smaller. Are you sure they won’t realize it’s a fake?”

“Princess Sparkle is drowning in responsibilities, most of which are products of her own fractured imagination,” the Gonne mare said. “There’s no way she’ll notice a few differences in the curls of its decoration.”

“You don’t know Twilight,” said the small mare.

The unicorn glared at her. “And you do?”

“I used to.”

Both of the Gonne sneered. “Well, whatever she was like when you met her, she’s different now,” said the stallion. “We’ve been watching. She never comes in here, like she’s afraid Celestia will be sitting on the bed.”

“Anyways, we have the mirror,” the grumpy stallion grumbled. “Now what?”

“Aether will take care of the rest,” said the unicorn mare. She turned around and nodded to the statue-esque pegasus looming behind them. “We will report to Satin tomorrow. I believe this is the beginning of a powerful union between the Mangled Marks and the Gonne.”

“Actually, I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” said the small, amber-eyed mare, “but you’re out of a job.”

The Gonne mare squinted at her. “Excuse me?”

Aether flapped his wings to hover over the Gonne. He smacked the unicorns’ heads together and they fell to the ground unconscious. The Mangled Marks dragged their limp bodies and hid them behind tall, limp curtains.

“Wow, I can’t believe that worked!” said the brown eyed stallion. “Now the mirror is all ours, right? What does it do?”

The small mare shrugged. “I’m not sure, but it shuts ponies up pretty well.”

“How?”

Aether picked up the mirror and hit the stallion over the head. The small mare darted to the other two and punched them under their chins. All three groaned and collapsed one by one into a pile of drooling ponies.

Apple Bloom peeled the black suit off her bright yellow body. “Did you bring my costume?” she asked Aether in a cold tone.

The pegasus moved fluidly to Celestia’s barren balcony and returned with a neat purple pile balanced on one hoof.

Apple Bloom took it from him warily. “Thanks,” she said.

Aether stared.


(/\/\)


Two dark figures shot out horizontally from the castle above. Alone on the rooftop, Dr. Trepony grinned at the shapes. They banked left together and floated toward him. Aether arrived first, pumping his great black wings to set the mirror down gently. Mare Do Well arrived soon after. She folded in her cape at the last moment and landed hard next to the mirror.

“Excellent work,” he said. “Now do you believe that I intend to betray my own once Satin is no more, Apple Bloom?”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever believe a word you say, Doctor Trepony,” she said in a gravelly Trottingham voice, “but I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think we could take down Satin together.”

“I can accept that.” He turned to Aether. “It looks heavy. Can you carry it to Restaurant Row? I am to meet Satin there.”

Aether nodded and wrapped all four of his hooves around the mirror. With several powerful flaps of his wings, he rose above the rooftop.

“Hide it in the alley between the Ponies’ Pizzeria and the Smoked Oat. Then you are dismissed for the night. I’ll call upon you soon.”

Aether dove toward the heart of the city with the mirror held tight in his spider-like legs. Mare Do Well watched him blend into the night sky.

“I am sorry for using your real name,” Dr. Trepony said in a soft voice, “and I thank you for not revealing mine. Aether does not know it.”

“I assumed as much.” She straightened her hat. “Restaurant Row, huh? I’ll stay out of sight until you give a signal.”

“Yes, I assumed as much.”

She could hear the smile in his voice. It only made her hidden scowl deepen. She ran to the edge and jumped as far as she could in the direction Aether had flown.

Mare Do Well bounded from building to building on her way to the rendezvous. The nearer she drew to Canterlot’s most popular eateries, the quieter and slower she moved. Some of the restaurants were open all night, and she soon spotted small groups of ponies in the streets, hungry for a midnight meal. Catlike, she sprinted along gutters and avoided their attention.

She stopped near the Tasty Treat, Sweetie Belle’s favorite restaurant in the city, and watched the alley across the street for nearly half an hour.

“Unsung?” she breathed into the night. “Are you there? Can you hear me?”

Lyra’s voice didn’t come, and Mare Do Well wondered if her hat had taken some kind of magical damage. If the enchantment was compromised, how would she get a message to Lyra in Ponyville? Her flying machine, the Wishing Well, was too obvious a target now that Mare Do Well’s fame was nationwide.

Her thoughts were cut short when Joe Cossitee, uncloaked, trotted into view. Mare Do Well crouched and waited for him to enter the alleyway. Instead, he knocked on the front door of the Ponies’ Pizzeria. The windows of the restaurant were unlit, but he stood patiently until the door was opened for him; it closed once he stepped inside.

Mare Do Well sat up, confused. A few minutes later, Cossitee exited the building and made his way to the alley. A rope dropped from a window on the pizzeria’s side. Cossitee tied the rope around the mirror, then it was heaved into the building through the window. As Cossitee made his way back to the front door, he glanced up at the rooftops around him and sharply pointed to the window several times.

Mare Do Well nodded to herself and waited until Dr. Cossitee re-entered the restaurant. She glided across the street and landed on top of the Smoked Oat. The pizzeria’s window was already closed, but through it she could see a couple of suited stallions measuring the mirror and examining it closely. In preparation to crash through the window, Mare Do Well crouched her hind legs and aimed her snout at its center. Just as she was about to launch off the roof, a voice crackled into her mind.

“Holy mackerel, Apple Bloom! You’re alive!”

“Whoooaa!” Mare Do Well lost her balance and tipped forward. She grabbed the edge of the Smoked Oat’s roof, dangling three stories up by one hoof.

“Oh Celesita, sorry Apple Bloom!” Lyra’s voice balanced between a scream and a giggle. “I can’t believe it! I thought maybe you… I mean, I told Rainbow Dash to take you to the hospital, but then… gah!”

Mare Do Well sighed. “Hello, Unsung. I’m really happy to hear your voice, but I can’t pretend this is the best timing.”

“Right, of course, of course, I’m sorry,” Lyra tittered. “I just… it’s been a long time. Where are you? Catch me up!”

“Uhhhh…” Mare Do Well looked at the window directly across from her. “See that mirror in there?”

“Yeah. Whew, oh boy, it’s good to be back, lemme tell ya! So cool to see what somepony else is seeing. Okay, what about that mirror?”

Mare Do Well hesitated. “I… I just helped the Mangled Marks and the Gonne steal it from the royal castle, and now their leaders are having a meeting in this pizzeria.”

Lyra was quiet for a moment. “Uhhh… what?”

Hanging from the building with one hoof, Mare Do Well grabbed an unenchanted gem from her utility belt and threw it at the window. The suited ponies turned away from the mirror with furrowed brows. One of them trotted to the window, lifted it open, and stuck his head out to look down.

Mare Do Well kicked off the wall and tackled the stallion, knocking him out against the floor. She whipped around before the other stallion could shout and grabbed him by the mane. With all her might, she smashed the pony’s face into the mirror, shattering the glass. The stallion dropped, bleeding from his forehead, and Mare Do Well closed the window.

“What the… what!?” Lyra yelled into Mare Do Well’s thoughts. “Hold on, what was so special about that mirror?”

“No idea,” Mare Do Well whispered. She opened the nearest door and galloped down a hallway to the nearest staircase.

“Wait, so you figured out who leads the Mangled Marks?” asked Lyra.

“He calls himself Doctor Trepony,” Mare Do Well whispered. “He’s been working with Satin to get that mirror. They’re both in here somewhere. I’m gonna kill two birds with one stone.”

“You’re gonna…” Lyra gulped. “You’re gonna kill them?”

Mare Do Well rolled her eyes. “No, Unsung, it’s an expression. I’m taking both of them down tonight, and they’ll never get up again.”

Lyra grimaced in her living room. “Yeesh. Maybe it’s just ‘cause I have murder on my mind now, but… that doesn’t sound much better.”

Mare Do Well jumped down the entire staircase and burst through a pair of swinging doors into a spacious, shiny kitchen. The floor was covered in blood. Startled, Mare Do Well surveyed the room and absorbed as many details as she could. Four beefy unicorn stallions in ripped up suits were piled in and around the dishwashing sink. Their limbs and necks bent at unnatural angles.

“Oh my… Apple Bloom?” Lyra gagged. “I think I’m gonna barf…”

On the opposite side of the kitchen from the broken stallions, Doctor Joe Cossitee stood over the bloody corpse of a grey-ish pink unicorn with sharp cheekbones. A huge kitchen knife floated in his magic. The dead mare’s flank had been skinned, and the removed Cutie Mark balanced on the edge of the knife.

Doctor Cossitee was smiling. His teeth were crooked and small. Mare Do Well took a step back.

“What have you done?” she choked. The metallic smell of blood seeped through her mask and burned at her nostrils.

“I didn’t need you for this part,” he said. “I assume the crash we heard means you broke that infernal mirror? Good, good… that’s wonderful.” He laughed, eyes wide, nodding rapidly. “You’ve been very helpful, Apple Bloom, so very, very helpful.”

> 15 - Life for a Life for a Life...
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


CHAPTER FIFTEEN
LIFE FOR A LIFE FOR A LIFE...


Mare Do Well held out a hoof. “Calm down, Cossitee. Put down the knife.”

“Apple Bloom, get out of there!” Lyra whimpered. “He’s crazy!”

“I could have done all this without you, I’m sure you realize,” Cossitee continued, twirling the knife in a slow circle. Satin’s Cutie Mark dropped to the ground with a wet thump. “But I let you masquerade as one of my own, and I’ve led you here to witness my victory. Isn’t it wonderful? The Gonne are no more!”

“Put the knife down, Cossitee,” Mare Do Well said again. “You could hurt yourself.”

Lyra was yelling. “Apple Bloom, leave him now! This is way over our heads!”

“Hurt myself?” Cossitee repeated. “Oh, no, no, no, Apple Bloom, I’m not going to hurt myself. I’m quite good with a knife, actually. Who do you think redesigned all of my ponies’ Cutie Marks? All it takes is a little blade and a little magic to rewrite destiny. Did you know that?”

Mare Do Well was quiet. She took slow steps closer to Cossitee through the blood.

“It wasn’t my idea, of course. Ponies have been reshaping their Cutie Marks for eons. It’s the pinnacle of art, deciding who you are! Abandoning nature’s choices in favor of your own! Designing oneself is the most beautiful artwork in existence, don’t you agree?”

“Apple Bloom…” Lyra’s voice wavered.

“You know, I’ve told you a couple of lies, Apple Bloom, and I feel I ought to remedy that,” Cossitee said with a dramatic frown, “seeing that we’re such good friends now.”

“Go on, then,” Mare Do Well said. “Tell me the truth.”

“Well, when we first met, I told you I never got my Cutie Mark,” he said. “That I had gone my entire life without it. But that’s not true, you see. I had a beautiful Mark, with a paintbrush, just like yours!” He cackled. “Isn’t that amazing? It was a pair of spectacles and a paintbrush. I knew I was to study art! I wanted to fulfil my destiny!”

“And you did,” Mare Do Well said in a low, calm voice. She took another step. “You’re a professor of art history, Doctor Cossitee. One of the best in the country.”

“I know that!” Cossitee spat, his mismatched eyes suddenly aglow with malice. “But by the time I got to school, I no longer had a paintbrush on my flank to flash at my professors and expect perfect grades. I did it without the magical proof of my destiny! I did it alone!”

“I’m sorry, Cossitee,” Mare Do Well said. “I’m sorry your Cutie Mark vanished, but you clearly didn’t need it.”

His blue eye twitched. “Vanished? Oh, Apple Bloom… my Cutie Mark did not vanish.” He scooped up Satin’s disembodied Cutie Mark in his magic. Blood dripped from its ragged edges. “It was removed. Ripped from my flesh. It took years to learn the spells that eventually healed the scars.”

Mare Do Well stopped. “What… who did that to you?”

His crooked smile returned, wider than ever, and he pointed down at the lifeless mare beneath him. “I was kidnapped by the Gonne when I was just a foal.”

Mare Do Well tilted her head. “But… I thought the Gonne started after Princess Sparkle rose to the throne.”

Doctor Cossitee tossed back his head and laughed. “Oh no, dear Apple Bloom, the Gonne have been operating in Equestria for hundreds of years. Did you believe the entire country was as bright and happy as Ponyville? Did you think the almighty Princesses kept their glorious nation immaculately peaceful?” He snarled. “Princess Sparkle’s reign has given rise to surges in crime, yes, but Equestria had its dark corners even under the Princess of the Sun.”

Mare Do Well’s heartbeat quickened as Cossitee stared down at Satin.

“She did it herself,” Cossitee said. His voice was soft, almost loving. “She was so beautiful… she told me she had something for me. I had no idea.” Without changing the smile on his face, he kicked Satin’s body with a forehoof. “She sold me in a group of other foals to a griffon. He ate some of them in front of us. Hung others by their wings for weeks. I was the only one old enough to have a Cutie Mark, but that didn’t last long.” He kicked Satin in her eye. “I managed to escape, to study magic to heal my scars and change the colors of my mane and eyes, never to be recognized again. I came back to Canterlot to fulfil my destiny, and one day, while enjoying a meal in this very restaurant, I saw Satin!”

He reared up and dropped the weight of his upper body onto Satin’s head. Lyra gasped and Apple Bloom flinched.

“She was acting—” He stomped down on her skull. “—like a stupid—” Stomp. “—fussy—” Crack. “—food critic!” With a scream that seemed to rip up his vocal chords, Cossitee came down onto Satin’s angular skull and crushed it like a raw egg.

“Ooohh-huuueggh!” Lyra vomited, and the sound echoed in Mare Do Well’s own skull.

Breathing hard, Doctor Cossitee glared up at Mare Do Well. “I decided to follow suit, you see, and climb the ladders of the underworld while posing as a lowly art history teacher. I had to pretend that I didn’t know who she was, only that I was eager to work with the greatest criminal in Canterlot. And, well…” He smiled. “You know the rest.”

“Why did you bring me here, Cossitee?” Mare Do Well croaked. Her throat was suddenly very dry.

“Ah, yes,” he nodded, straightening up and cracking his neck. “That brings me to my second lie. You see, Aether does actually know where I live and who I really am. He’s been in on the whole plan. In fact, he’s the one that killed those poor ponies in the sink.”

Mare Do Well spun around just in time to stop Aether’s hoof from hitting the back of her head.

“The Gonne are gone, and the Mangled Marks will soon crumble,” Doctor Cossitee shouted theatrically. “All that remains to haunt this wicked city is the mysterious Mare Do Well, and I shall gladly exorcise her!”

Aether tried to hit her with a wing. Mare Do Well ducked, spun on one forehoof, and bucked as hard as she could. With a quick flap, Aether pulled away and avoided the kick. Mare Do Well sprinted at Cossitee and smacked the knife out of the air. She dove to tackle him, but his white aura of magic caught her in midair. 

“Black stone, black stone!” Lyra shouted, coughing. “Use it!”

Mare Do Well struggled against the magic. Aether grabbed her by the hind hooves and threw her against a row of hanging pots. They crashed loudly against the bloody floor as Mare Do Well scrambled to reach the black gem in her utility belt.

Doctor Cossitee grabbed the long collar of her costume with magic and stuck it to the ceiling. Mare Do Well kicked and grabbed at her throat, choking. She fished the black gem out of its pouch and smacked it against the ceiling. It spewed smoke in all directions, filling the kitchen with thick, billowing vapors. Doctor Cossitee coughed as his spell broke; Mare Do Well fell from the ceiling and slipped on the blood. Half of her mask and cape soaked it in. The smell was sharp and dizzying.

“Get out of there, Apple Bloom!” Lyra screamed.

Mare Do Well stayed low and rushed through the kitchen. She could only see a few inches into the thickening smoke, but she managed to find the swinging doors of the kitchen and escape. As the entire pizzeria was filled with black smoke, Mare Do Well galloped to the front of the building and threw herself through the first window she saw.

Ponies along Restaurant Row gasped and stared in her direction. She turned around and faced the building, backing away from the jagged window and the column of smoke ejecting from it.

Aether emerged as if the smoke had created him. Nearby ponies screamed at the skeletal pegasus, flapping great black wings with measured ferocity. Mare Do Well crouched deeply, eyes locked on Aether’s intimidating form.

“Uhhh, Apple Bloom?” Lyra asked. “Isn’t that the pony that beat you to a mumbling pulp, like, two months ago!?”

“Yes,” Mare Do Well growled, “and I’m starting to think he’s the pony who killed your son.”

Lyra’s voice caught in her throat. Mare Do Well’s lips pursed. She could hear Lyra’s breath pick up in her mind. 

When Lyra spoke, her voice was dry and heavy.

“Shatter him.”


(/\/\)


Razorwing did a few lazy backflips over the abandoned campus of Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. He blew air through his lips to make a engine-like buzzing sound.

“Bbbbbbrrr-rrrrruurrr…” He stopped in mid-air and held up his silver-plated forelegs. “Moon above, is that Razorwing!?” he said in a high pitched voice.

He turned and stroked his chin, adopting a gruffer voice. “Hmmm, no, I think that’s just a weatherpony.”

Another spin, another voice. “It is! It’s Razorwing! Gah, I can’t believe it! He’s so handsome!”

He cheered quietly, mimicking an adoring crowd, then smirked and brushed the imaginary cheers aside with a wave of his hoof. “Please, please, good citizens of Equestria,” he said with a toothy grin. “There’s no need for all this. Cheer in your hearts, if you must, but I’m just here to…”

His goofy expression fell as the the world around him darkened. Looking for the Moon, he spotted a giant column of smoke rising from a lower sector of Canterlot. “What the…” He pumped his wings and zipped several yards closer. “Restaurant Row?” His eyes bugged. “Oh gosh, a fire! This looks like a job for Razorwing!”

He pointed his snout at the smoke and pumped with bladed wings. The chain-link sheath around his tail rattled from the speed. Within moments he stopped above Restaurant Row, hovering for long enough to survey the chaos. A small crowd of ponies galloped as fast as they could to the far edges of the Row, but the smoke was clearly the least of their worries.

“Mare Do Well!” Razorwing shouted.

Below, the violet vigilante blocked punch after lightning fast punch from a tall, black pegasus Razorwing recognized. The monstrous stallion used its enormous wings to bat at Mare Do Well’s sides, distracting her enough to land a devastating punch on the bridge of her snout. She stumbled back, hat askew.

“Not this time, bucker!” Razorwing shrieked. He dove into the street and swung all four legs in front of him, slamming into the pegasus’ side with the flats of his hooves and kicking out with all his might.

The impact may as well have been from a comet. Aether’s body smacked the ground and skidded over cobblestone. He tried to steady himself with his wings, but opening them flipped his body into a wild tumble.

“Mare Do Well, are you okay?” Razorwing asked, rushing to her side. He gasped at her blood-soaked mask. “Dear Luna, did he break your snout? You’re bleeding a ton!”

Mare Do Well pressed a hoof between her eyes. “Ain’t my blood…” she said in a southern accent.

Razorwing raised an eyebrow. “Mare Do Well?”

She shook away the pain in her head and grunted. “It’s not my blood, Razorwing,” she said in a Trottingham accent, and pointed at the shattered window spilling smoke. “Doctor Cossitee killed a mare in there.”

“Doctor Who?” Razorwing asked.

“The leader of the Mangled Marks,” Mare Do Well said, jabbing her hoof at the window. “Get in there! Make sure he doesn’t escape! Cut his legs off if you have to!”

Razorwing gulped and stretched out his wings. “What does he look like?”

Before Mare Do Well could answer, they heard Aether galloping toward them. One of his wings stuck out from his body at an unnatural angle.

Mare Do Well dove backward and rolled out of Aether’s path. Razorwing leapt into the air and avoided collision with a few easy flaps.

“Ooooh, sorry about your wing, big guy,” Razorwing said, breathing in through his teeth. “My sister broke her wing once. Didn’t seem fun.”

Aether jumped and tried to grab Razorwing around the hind legs, but the graham-colored stallion was too fast. He darted left and right above Aether like a ball of yarn swinging above a cat. “Come on, grab the shiny!” Razorwing taunted. “You like my shiny suit? Come on, you can reach it!”

Aether stopped jumping and glared up at Razorwing with burning hatred in his monochromatic eyes.

Razorwing winced. “Eugh… that is one creepy stare, dude.”

Mare Do Well jumped high and kicked Aether in the back of his head. The stallion hissed and turned around, crouched and ready to pounce on her.

“Do I get to cut off his legs, too?” Razorwing asked, pointing at Aether.

“Go get Cossitee!” Apple Bloom yelled.

Aether dove and landed a fast hoof on Mare Do Well’s shoulder. Her whole leg went limp; she caught herself with a crossed foreleg, but a smack from Aether’s good wing knocked her onto her back. Aether pressed a hoof down on the middle of her chest and lifted the other to crush her bloody mask.

Razorwing grabbed Aether’s lifted elbow and flapped as hard as he could. “Holy wow, you’re heavier than you look!” he wheezed as Aether rose barely a foot off of Mare Do Well.

She spun onto her hooves and punched Aether’s exposed belly as many times as she could before he kicked her away. He reached up and beat a black wing against Razorwing’s hooves.

“Oof! Like a scarecrow full of gold!” Razorwing grunted.

Aether shook himself loose and grabbed the metal sheath around Razorwing’s tail in his teeth. Dropping his head to the ground, Aether pulled Razorwing out of the air and tried to pin him down.

“This is a really bad idea, big guy!” Razorwing said, wriggling away. “I’m warning you right now you don’t want what this path leads to!”

Aether grabbed both sides of Razorwing’s helmet and squeezed. The metal started to creak.

“I am currently afraid for my life!” Razorwing shouted. “I cannot be held responsible for what I’m about to do, okay?”

Glaring into Razorwing’s wide blue eyes, Aether snorted wet steam from his nostrils.

“I’ll take that as compliance.” Lying on his back, Razorwing crossed both forelegs over his chest and dragged his bladed wings along Aether’s sides.

Aether gasped and leapt back directly into Razorwing’s lifted blades. The edges stuck into the flesh below the joints of Aether’s shoulders. The monstrous’ pegasus’ eyes widened and filled with tears.

“Oooohhh, this is gross, I don’t enjoy this, I promise,” Razorwing rambled as blood dribbled down the silver armor along his wings. “I freaking hate you, and I’m still super sorry about this, here we go, okay, sorry…”

He flapped, sliding away from Aether on his hindquarters before taking flights. The giant pegasus’ forelegs shook uncontrollably as he tried to support himself, but soon gave out. His jaw smacked against the pavement and his eyes drifted out of focus.

“Aether!” Doctor Cossitee called from the broken window of the pizzeria. Mare Do Well and Razorwing both looked at him.

The smoke was finally clearing. Cossitee was still inside the restaurant, watching the fight from the tabletop of a booth. He slumped off the table and stood on the booth’s bench with his head poking through the large hole outlined by shattered glass.

“You’ve killed him!” Cossitee moaned.

“I did not!” Razorwing shouted back. He hovered near the black pegasus and poked its limp skull. “Uhhh… he’ll be fine.”

“Fool! You’ve strapped razors to your wings and don’t know basic equine anatomy? You may as well have cut open his neck! He’s dead!” Cossitee screamed hysterically, drool and tears falling onto the shards of glass under his head. “My friend! My dear friend is dead!”

Mare Do Well’s eye twitched under her mask. “You are out of your mind, Cossitee,” she said through clenched teeth.

Razorwing stepped backward from Aether’s body as a pool of blood formed around his bony head and neck. “I… I-I…” Razorwing stuttered. “I didn’t mean to… I’ve always been careful, I mean, I haven’t…”

Cossitee suddenly stopped crying. His eyes were dim, his brow creased. “Yes, well… I suppose everypony makes mistakes.” With that, he closed his eyes and allowed his head to fall through the spikes of broken window.

Razorwing yelped and took flight. He looked back and forth between the bodies of Dr. Cossitee and Aether, then stared at Mare Do Well. “What… what did we do?” he asked in a crackly voice.

Mare Do Well couldn’t move. She listened to Lyra weep in her brain and tried to ignore the blood drying into the fur of her face.

“Mare Do Well?” Razorwing asked.

She shook her head. “It’s over, Razorwing,” she said. “Go home. I’ll find you.”

Razorwing trembled in midair. “I… I didn’t mean to—”

Mare Do Well held up a wrapped hoof. “You did what you had to, Razorwing. I’ll find you. We’ll talk. I promise.” She shuddered. “Go home, quickly.”

He nodded. In a flash of silver and gold, he was gone.

Mare Do Well crumpled to her knees and closed her eyes.

“Apple Bloom, I have to go,” Lyra whispered.

Mare Do Well nodded. She took off the hat and tossed it aside. Though her heart raced, her breaths were slow and long. Tearstains joined the blood in the fabric of her mask.

From the stillness of the somber night, a strange sound echoed in Restaurant Row. Mare Do Well’s ears perked up, intrigued by the strange familiarity of it. Within seconds it was joined by another, like a symphony blooming from the void instrument by instrument.

Slowly, Mare Do Well turned her head. All down the street, pressed in pockets around entrances to restaurants and apartment buildings, groups of onlooking Canterlotians broke one by one into applause. They stomped their hooves in fervent appreciation. As the noise grew, some ponies whooped, whistled, and cheered at Mare Do Well.

She rose to her hooves and rotated in place to survey the ponies on balconies and rooftops joining in on the applause.

“Woooo! Thank you, Mare Do Well!” somepony shouted from a window down the street.

“Mare Do Well, you’re a hero!” called out a stallion.

“We love you!”

“Thank you!”

“Thank you, Mare Do Well!”

The cheering erupted all at once into a deafening cacophony of stomps and gleeful hollering. Something above caught Mare Do Well’s attention; Razorwing floated above, agape at the praise exploding from Canterlot’s desperate citizens.

“What’s your name?” a young colt shouted at him from a rooftop.

He cleared his throat. “Razorwing,” he said.

Shouts of “Razorwing!” and “Thank you, Razorwing!” harmonized with the chorus sounding for Mare Do Well. He looked down to her with a timid expression. She beckoned, and Razorwing flew to Mare Do Well’s side, holding his hooves close to his chest.

The wind from his wings billowed under Mare Do Well’s cape. It tremored and whipped in the breeze as she stood tall, listening to the steady roar of approval from the city she had striven so much to protect.

She scooped up her hat and slid it over her ears. “Unsung,” she said over the cheers, “are you still there?”

Lyra sniffled. “What is that?” she asked.

“See for yourself.” As dawn broke over the city, Mare Do Well looked fondly, proudly, at the ponies celebrating their victory over Canterlot’s hated underworld.

“Sweet Celestia,” Lyra breathed. “Is this… normal for you now?”

Mare Do Well coughed out an exhausted laugh. “No. I had no idea. They… they just saw two ponies die. What are they cheering for?”

In her Ponyvillean living room, Lyra brushed a tear from her face and smiled. “They believe in you,” Lyra said. “They missed you. So did I, Apple Bloom.”

“But I…” Mare Do Well hazarded a glance at Cossitee’s body in the window. “I didn’t want to…”

“They know,” Lyra said, nodding. “They believe you’re doing everything you can to save their city. They have hope.”

Engulfed in their ceaseless cheering, Mare Do Well and Razorwing looked at each other.

“I think we should go,” she said.

Razorwing nodded. He waved once to the crowd and rocketed higher into the sky with a few swift flaps. Mare Do Well galloped into a nearby alley. Behind her, the roar of waking ponies surged to new volumes as they chanted in unison, “Mare Do Well! Mare Do Well!”

“What in Tartarus just happened, Lyra?” Apple Bloom asked as she climbed the side of a building, jumping from ledge to ledge on trembling hooves.

“I don’t really know,” Lyra said, “but I think—all things considered—it was good.”


(/\/\)


Through tears of pain, Princess Sparkle watched the smoke in the sky fizzle out of existence.

“Magic,” she said under her breath. A shock went through her horn and she had to close her eyes, growling deep in her throat. “Come on…”

The last of the Sun broke past the horizon. Twilight dropped her head and let the sweat drip from her face. She watched it splash on the marble tile of her balcony.

As her headache subsided, Twilight heard a distant chant rise from the city below. At first it was just a rhythmic noise to her, but the words became clear when the ringing in her ears subsided.

“Mare Do Well! Mare Do Well!”

Twilight’s eye began to twitch. Her lips pulled into a toothy scowl.

“You came back,” she hissed. “Oh, Applejack… what is your game here?”

She whipped around and stalked the length of her cold, empty room. Her magic opened the middle drawer in a tall, black desk against the far wall, and dozens of sheets of paper with notes, testimonials, and question marks organized themselves in neat piles.

“First you… what, you come to Canterlot? Why?” She flicked her head, tossing a stack of papers on the ground. “To see me? Why didn’t you come to the castle? Then you try to sneak back to Ponyville and jump off the train…” She flung another pile into the air. “And return months later in your old Mare Do Well costume. Was that your plan all along? Did you come to Canterlot to scope it out? To see how badly I’ve screwed up!?”

She swept her long forehooves across the desk and dropped her forehead on its surface. “Gaaaaaah! Why would you do this, Applejack? I don’t understand.” She shifted, resting her cheek on the back of a hoof and staring at her unmade bed. 

After a while, she sighed. “You think this is easy, Applejack? You think you could rule the world knowing what I know? You think you can swoop in and save Equestria by yourself where the Princess of Friendship failed?” The muscles in her snout tightened and her eyes burned in their sockets. “Go ahead and try, Applejack. Do your very best, I implore you. Maybe you’ll see how horrible it all really is, how pointless and pretend.”

Twilight stood and shook out her mane. “Go right ahead, Applejack. I wish you the best of luck. In the meantime, I’ll be here, ensuring there’s a tomorrow to save.”


(/\/\)


Lyra rubbed her right eye and yawned. “So he was your teacher?” she asked.

Apple Bloom’s voice sounded in her mind. “Hardly. I attended less than ten of his lectures, I think. Maybe a bit more.”

“Was he good?”

“He was fantastic,” Apple Bloom said. Lyra watched her unwrap the purple cloth from her last hoof. “Maybe all the best professors are nuts, one way or another.”

“I can’t believe he just… I mean, that glass went straight through his head, he must have pushed pretty hard.”

“Lyra, not now,” Apple Bloom said. “I hafta get some sleep and sort this out.”

“I’ve never, uh…” Lyra swallowed. “I’ve never seen anypony die before. Have you?”

Apple Bloom was silent. “I gotta sleep, Lyra,” she finally said. “We’ll talk later.”

“Sorry, I’m just… Oh, hold on! How many enchanted gems do you have left?”

Lyra watched as Apple Bloom unclipped her utility belt and sifted through the pockets on her bed. “Not many,” Apple Bloom said. “How am I gonna get more?”

“Uhhhh,” Lyra furrowed her brow. “Eh, I don’t know. I could try to sneak some by train or something. Just get some sleep, I’ll think about it.”

“Thanks, Lyra,” Apple Bloom said. She reached in front of her eyes and grabbed the hat. “I’m glad you were here tonight. Sorry you had to see all that.”

“No, I’m… I’m glad I was here, too,” Lyra said. “Good night.”

Apple Bloom glanced at the Sunlit window of her apartment and chuckled. “Good night, Unsung.”

She pulled off the hat, and Lyra’s vision went black. She breathed deeply and blinked several times. The trance wore off and her living room, lit by the same morning Sun that shone in Canterlot, came into view.

The glow of Lyra’s horn faded like a dying candle. She rose from her couch and stretched. “Whew… adrenaline sucks,” she grumbled, shaking out a twitch in her hind leg.

She fixed her mane in a hallway mirror and left her house. Despite the Sunshine, Ponyville looked grey and dry. A few ponies trotted through its narrow streets with their heads down. Lyra sighed quietly, locked the door behind her, and headed for market.

She bought breakfast from Carrot Top and crunched it down on her way to Carousel Boutique. A cart full of apples was parked near the front door.

Rarity greeted Lyra as she walked in. “Ah, Miss Heartstrings! It’s wonderful to see you.” She trotted to her and offered a tender smile. “Tell me, how are you getting along?”

Lyra tried to smile back. “Well… not my best, really. But maybe you can help me with that.”

“Surely! What is it you need, darling?”

Lyra noticed Applejack braiding her mane in the back. “Hi, Applejack!” she said, waving.

Rarity turned around and nodded at Applejack with wide eyes.

Applejack’s face was flat. “Hey, Lyra.”

Lyra cleared her throat. “Uh… have you heard anything from Apple Bloom lately?” she asked.

Green eyes narrowed, Applejack glared at Lyra. “No,” she said.

“Oh… I’m sorry to hear that,” Lyra said. “I’m… I’m sure she’s doing all right.”

Applejack rolled her eyes, but didn’t say anything.

Lyra turned back to Rarity. “Right, uh… you still sell gems, right? Like, just gems, not embroidered or in jewelry or anything.”

“Ah, yes, I remember you bought a number of them some time ago!” Rarity trotted through the boutique. “I do have quite a collection for you to browse in the back, if you’ll follow me. It may take me just a moment to find them, I’ll admit I’ve put off organizing for a while.”

“That’s fine,” Lyra said. “I’ll, uh… I’ll follow you in just a minute, okay? I’d like to look around.”

“Oh, of course, darling! I’ve got a new line of yellows over there,” she said, pointing. “A scarf would look dashing with your eye color.”

She disappeared into the back. Lyra watched Applejack finish a braid, undo it, and start again in the same place. Biting her lip, Lyra took a few steps closer.

“Uh… Applejack?” she asked.

“What is it, Lyra?” Applejack’s voice was lower than usual.

“Uh…” She stood a little taller. “I meant what I said. I’m sure Apple Bloom is all right.”

Applejack gave her a wary look. “And how exactly do ya know that, hm?”

Lyra pursed her lips together. “Uh… well, she’s back in Canterlot and seems to be doing really well.”

Applejack snorted. “Last letter from Sweetie Belle said she was in the hospital up there.” She looked away. “Believe me, if you knew the half of it, you wouldn’t be so sure she’s fine.”

Lyra tried to suppress a smile. “Right. Sorry, I… I’m sure you know more than me on the matter.”

“Miss Heartstrings! I found them!” Rarity called from the back.

With a small nod toward Applejack, Lyra said, “She’s out of the hospital now. She’s, uh… doing well.” She winked when Applejack’s head spun around. 

As Lyra trotted to find Rarity, Applejack stood up. “Hey!”

Lyra stopped. Applejack’s shout put a lump in her throat. “Yeah?”

“Do you think yer bein’ funny?” Applejack asked.

“What? No!” Lyra shook her head. “I’m… I just wanted you to know that—”

“How’dja find out?” Applejack asked harshly, trotting closer to Lyra. “Have you told anypony else?”

“What?” Lyra stepped back. “No, I’m just… I’m just here to get…” She pointed in Rarity’s direction.

“Oh, so yer stupid pun was just a coincidence, huh?” Applejack stopped inches from Lyra’s face and glared into her eyes. “Yer sure she’s doin’ well? What, d’ya think we’re livin’ in a fillies’ book? How didja know it’s her?”

“Uhhhhh…” Lyra’s eyes widened.

“It’s all over Ponyville now,” Applejack said, turning from Lyra to pace in front of her. “Mare Do Well’s back, they say. I bet it’s Rainbow Dash, they say. But I know who’s behind that mask, and apparently so do you.” She frowned at Lyra. “So? How’d you find out?”

“Lyra, dear?” Rarity popped her head around the corner. “Oh my goodness! Applejack, what’s gotten into you?” She trotted between them. “Honestly, I understand it’s upsetting, but there’s no need to go shouting and terrifying my customers!”

“Do you know, too?” Lyra asked Rarity. “About Apple Bloom?”

Rarity’s irises shrunk. “Oh, um… how do you mean?” She smiled and blinked innocently.

Lyra smiled. “You do! You both know!” She giggled, then said to herself, “Oh, I hope Apple Bloom doesn’t mind. I just hate to see you like this.”

Applejack’s frown lessened. “Doesn’t mind what? Have you talked to her?”

Lyra laughed. “Oh yeah, I’ve talked to her. This morning, in fact.”

Rarity raised her eyebrows. “What, did she send you a letter?”

“Uh, no.” Lyra smiled sheepishly. “Not exactly.”


(/\/\)


Mare Do Well and Razorwing stood side by side in silence, looking over Canterlot from a rooftop near the docks.

“Jeez, it’s been two days,” Razorwing said. “And nothing. We really scared ‘em, didn’t we?”

“We scared ourselves, too,” Mare Do Well said. She took off her hat and sat on her haunches. “Are you all right, Razorwing?”

The stallion grinned with one side of his mouth. “Took you long enough to ask.”

Mare Do Well shook her head. “Sorry. I haven’t found a way to…”

“It’s okay, Mare Do Well. Really.” He shook out his wings and sat close beside her. “I get it. There are a lot of… different ways to look at it, I guess.”

“Right.” Mare Do Well stared ahead. “I’m glad it’s over. And part of me knew somepony had to die. I just… I didn’t plan any of that. I didn’t mean for anypony to…” Her words caught in her throat, but she pushed through it. “To bleed out in the middle of the street.”

“Or stab themselves through the head.” Razorwing nodded. “I get it. I think we all get it.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Equestria used to feel like such a safe place, but it doesn’t anymore. We all heard about the violent protests in Canterlot and things just changed. We changed, maybe. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, you know? Why they cheered for us. And if I try to put myself in their horseshoes, I totally get it.”

Mare Do Well finally looked over at him.

His eyebrows tilted. “They’re scared, Mare Do Well. You started to change things in ways they’d never really seen, and then you just disappeared. But for them to see you—actually see you in action, not just read about it and hear rumors—gosh, that must have been so exciting, you know?” He reached over and shook her by the shoulder. “You’re real! Even I’m amazed by it. You’re standing up to this crummy world somepony dropped on us, and you’re winning. It’s a miracle.”

“It doesn’t feel like I’m winning,” Mare Do Well said.

Razorwing nodded. “Yeah. I know.” He scooted a bit closer. Their hips were touching. “But you’re a hero. A real hero. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Mare Do Well stood up and stepped away from him.

Razorwing’s face flushed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“What’s that?” Mare Do Well asked. She pointed to the sky.

Razorwing hopped to his hooves and looked. “What the…” He jumped off the edge of the rooftop and flew closer to the clouds. “Whoa!”

“What is it?” Mare Do Well called up to him.

He swooped down and tapped the M-shaped emblem on her chest. “It’s that.”

Mare Do Well’s eyes focused as the dark clouds rolled. She followed the beam of light shining an enormous, curved M into the sky.

“Looks like it’s coming from the train station,” Razorwing said. “Or close to it, anyway.”

“Could be a trap,” Mare Do Well said.

Razorwing flashed a sly smile. “Dear Luna, I hope so.”


(/\/\)


Mare Do Well landed hard on the roof of the Canterlot station. Razorwing hovered above her, silver armor glimmering in the Moonlight.

Next to a wide spotlight stood an older stallion with a greying blue moustache and a dapper black suit coat. His light blue eyes widened at Mare Do Well’s arrival.

“I hope I’m not spoiling your night,” the stallion said. “I couldn’t think of any other surefire way to get your attention.”

“Fancy Pants,” said Mare Do Well.

The stallion cocked his head. “Oh, you know me?”

“What do you need, bro?” Razorwing asked. “You got a hot tip for us? Mangled Marks hitting the streets? Gonne stragglers making trouble?”

Fancy Pants grinned. “No, I’m fairly certain you’ve scared them out of their wits for now. The city has been remarkably quiet. I must thank you for that.”

“Then what’s with the signal?” Razorwing asked. “And where’s my insignia in the sky, eh?”

“What do you know, Fancy Pants?” Mare Do Well asked.

“I’ve received word from Manehattan,” he said. “Not directly, mind you, but through the grapevine, as it were. There’s a… well, a unique individual there is in great need of your service.”

“Manehatten?” Mare Do Well asked.

“Field trip!” Razorwing shouted. “Yeah!”

“She goes by the name of Spritemare,” Fancy Pants continued. “She’s much like you, from what I’ve gathered. I believe she is primarily responsible for the diffusion of that hypnosis debacle everypony’s talking about.”

“Do you know how we’d find her, if we go?” Mare Do Well asked.

Fancy Pants pointed to the spotlight. “I’m sure you’ll find a way. She’s a winged zebra, if the stories are true. Can’t imagine she’d be very hard to find.”

“Winged zebra?” Razorwing glanced at his own wings. “I’ve never heard of that.”

“Nor have I,” Fancy Pants said, “but I also never heard of a pony strapping deadly swords to the joints of his wings.”

Razorwing’s demeanor shrunk. “Uhh… deadly wasn’t exactly what I was going for when I made them…”

Fancy Pants put up a hoof. “I’m not here to criticize. I am grateful to you both, more than you could know. I’ve delivered the message, and you’re free to do with it what you will. I do hope, however, that if you choose to help this Spritemare in Manehattan, you will return promptly. I maintain many connections, even in this new world of ours. I shall likely call on you again.”

Mare Do Well bowed. “And we’ll answer.”

She spun around with a flair of her cloak and jumped off the station’s roof. Razorwing grinned with a shrug and dove after her. By the time Fancy Pants switched off the spotlight and surveyed the streets below, Canterlot’s dynamic duo had vanished.
> 16 - How We May Spur One Another
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


CHAPTER SIXTEEN
HOW WE MAY SPUR ONE ANOTHER


Silver Medal had never been so aware of his wings. He pressed them into his sides and pattered his forehooves, darting his eyes left and right along the platform. He had never ridden a train in his life, and the number of ponies waiting for the early eastbound train, though less than he had imagined, was nevertheless overwhelming.

Very few of them were pegasi. A winged couple passed him on the platform. Like him, they each toted a suitcase, though his bag was dramatically smaller.

Having grown up in Cloudsdale, standing in the midst of a hundred grounded ponies felt strange on its own. But another, far more distressing feeling made him extra conscious of his feathered appendages.

A stallion galloped through the crowd at full speed. “Excuse me, please! I’m gonna miss my train!” he shouted.

Silver Medal turned toward the sound. The stallion barreled right at him; without thinking, Silver Medal opened his wings in an effort to flap upward and avoid a collision. The stallion tried to swerve around Silver, but his steps were too quick and he ended up running into the front of Silver’s extended wing.

“Nooo!” Silver Medal screamed and pulled his wings in tight. “Oh Moon above, I’m so sorry! Are you all right!?”

The stallion stumbled a bit and stared at him warily. “Uh… yeah, I’m fine,” he said.

Ponies all over the platform gave Silver equally quizzical looks.

The stallion, confused, continued to gallop toward his train in silence. Silver Medal sat on his haunches, breathing hard. He shut his eyes and tried to slow his racing heart and ignore the bewildered ponies wondering at his outburst.

“Hey, you doin’ okay there?” asked a sweet, southern voice.

Silver looked up. A yellow earth pony with a bright red mane and amber eyes smiled at him, holding out a hoof.

“Y’look tired. Wake up early?”

Silver took her hoof and stood to all four legs, relaxing his wings a bit. “Uhh... yeah, yeah,” he said, chuckling. “I’m just tired. Antsy.”

“That’s all right, I getcha.” The mare rested a hoof on the small suitcase beside her. “I grew up on a farm. Some mornin’s I was so out of it, I thought the snort of a pig was the barn fallin’ down.”

Silver Medal laughed. “Right, yeah. It’s weird, uh… being tired.” He cleared his throat. “I’m Silver Medal, by the way. This is my… well, my first long train ride.”

“Oh, yeah? Where ya headed?” asked the mare.

“Manehattan,” he said, nodding with high eyebrows. “Yeah. First time there, too.”

“Well, whattaya know. I’m Manehatten-bound, too!” she said. “Name’s Apple Bloom. Nice t’meetcha!”

Silver Medal looked her over quickly. “Yeah, thanks. Likewise.” He squinted. “Do we… Have we met before?”

She creased her brow. “I don’t think so. Do you go to school in Canterlot?”

“Oh, no,” he said. “I’m from Cloudsdale. This is the closest station, and… it’s too far to fly, so… I’m guessing you’ve never been to Cloudsdale, right? It’s just, something about you is really familiar.”

Apple Bloom chuckled adorably. “I get that a lot. Prob’ly my voice. Most ponies don’t meet many southerners, I guess. If they’ve met one, they think they’ve met ‘em all.”

Silver’s eyes widened. “Oh, gosh, I didn’t mean to—”

“Oh, hush.” Apple Bloom waved her hoof. “I didn’t mean nothin’ by it and neither did you.”

“Heh… right.” Silver Medal blushed. “You’re right, yeah. Now that I think about it, it is something about your voice that’s familiar. Heh, funny. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.” Apple Bloom’s words were punctuated with the screech of a train whistle.

“Six o’clock eastbound, ends in Manehattan!” yelled a conductor from the window of the train pulling up to the platform.

“This is us!” Apple Bloom said. “You can stick with me, if you wanna. I been on so many trains, it’s hard to count.”

Silver nodded and picked up his bag. “Sure, I’ll stick with you. Thanks.”

Between the train stopping and the ponies clambering to board it, the station became too noisy to continue conversation. Silver Medal followed Apple Bloom onto the train amidst a tight crowd. She trotted confidently to a car near the engine and found a seat next to a window. She made eye contact with him and patted the space next to her.

Silver smiled and took the seat, tucking his bag under the bench. “Better get comfortable, I guess,” he said. “Long trip.”

“You got that right.” Apple Bloom smiled.

Silver felt a flutter in his stomach looking at her gleaming teeth and scrunched up cheeks. He looked at the ground and cleared his throat again. “Sorry,” he said, “I’m not usually… er, I’m usually good at talking.” He made a face at his own words. “What? I mean—I’m tired and stuff, so… sorry that I’m not, uh…”

Apple Bloom laughed heartily. “Hey, calm down. Not everypony’s a mornin’ pony. I won’t judge you fer nothin’.”

Silver rolled his eyes. “Well, that’s exactly the thing. I am a morning pony, and I’m not actually very tired. I’m just rambling. I’m usually, I dunno, funnier and more charming than this.”

“Are ya, now?” Apple Bloom asked with one eyebrow raised.

“No, I mean… ugh.” Silver dragged a hoof over his face. “Never mind. Thanks for helping me out there, after I freaked out. I’ve been a little jittery lately when it comes to my wings.”

“Oh, I’m sorry ‘bout that. I can’t even imagine what it’s like, so… ‘scuse me if I’m not much comfort.”

“Ha! Eh, that’s fine.” He shook out his wings a bit and took a deep breath. “Also you’re pretty, so my tongue’s a bit tied.”

Apple Bloom’s face fell. She looked out the window.

Silver Medal bit his lip. “Sorry, was that too forward? I’m no good at this stuff.”

In her reflection, Silver saw a sad sort of smile grace Apple Bloom’s mouth. “No, it’s fine,” she said in a quieter voice. “You can say what you want. Nopony’s told me that in a while, is all.”

“Maybe they should,” Silver Medal said.

The train lurched forward. The car was nearly full and everypony took their seats as the train picked up speed spiraling around Canterlot Mountain.

Silver chuckled. “I hope I didn’t just make our whole trip unbearably awkward.”

Apple Bloom looked at him with a bigger smile. “No, you didn’t, I promise. I was just thinkin’ about somepony. Didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

Silver just nodded, and Apple Bloom watched the world rotate through the window.


(/\/\)


“So you live in Canterlot, huh?” Silver Medal asked.

Apple Bloom nodded. “Sure do.”

“Always, or?”

“No, I’m just a student,” she said.

“Of art?” Silver asked, pointing at her Cutie Mark.

Apple Bloom nodded. “Yeah. Been studying for a few years now,” she lied.

“What do you think of Mare Do Well?” he asked.

Apple Bloom’s stomach flipped. She looked out the window again. “Uhh… I don’t know, don’t think about her much, I guess.”

“Really?” Silver Medal’s face was splashed with disbelief and pain. “No way, that can’t be true.”

“She’s changin’ things, which is good, I guess.”

“Good? Oh, Apple Bloom, Mare Do Well is the best! I know some ponies are against her, but I don’t even care, I’m loud and proud about it.” He nodded to himself. “I’m Mare Do Well’s number one fan.”

Apple Bloom couldn’t help herself. “How can you like somepony you don’t even know?”

She watched Silver Medal out of the corner of her eye and tried not to laugh at his cocky expression. “Eh, well, you might be surprised.”

“What, have you met her or somethin’?”

“Yeeeah, you could say that.” Silver stuck his tongue into his cheek and pretended to glance down the train car’s empty aisle.

“Hmm.” Apple Bloom smirked. “Well, I’m sure she’s not all that impressive.”

Silver guffawed. “Oh, she’s… she’s impressive.”

His demeanor changed—melted—as he continued to talk. Apple Bloom felt something like horror brewing in her gut.

“You’re right, of course, that I don’t really know her, but… gosh, there’s something special about her. Something fierce and real and determined. Somehow, despite the mask, she’s the most honest pony I’ve ever met. She makes me feel… I don’t know, alive? That sound corny, I know, but it’s true.”

Apple Bloom’s cheeks were tingling. “She ain’t honest,” she said under her breath.

Silver bounced his head left and right. “Well, yeah, I mean… she feels real. She doesn’t mess around.” He ran a hoof through his mane. “Whew. All I know is I love her.”

A rock dropped from Apple Bloom’s throat and smashed open her stomach.

“You don’t mean that,” she said, grimacing.

“No, really,” he said, nodding. “It’s weird, right? Like, I have no idea what she looks like, but that doesn’t matter. She’s super attractive and—”

Apple Bloom held up a hoof to stop him. “I don’t need to hear this.”

“No, seriously, listen!” He swiveled toward her. “I haven’t told anypony this, but I’ve had it on my mind forever. I called you cute, right? I do that kind of stuff all the time. I like mares, what can I say? But with Mare Do Well, it’s like… wow, she’s just so amazing. I don’t know what her face looks like or what color her eyes are, but who cares? Even if she’s not the hottest mare on the planet under her costume, I’ve gotten to know her before I know what she looks like, and I freaking love who she is.”

“She’s just actin’. You realize that, right?” Apple Bloom’s eyes were hot. “You have no idea what she’s really like. She’s just pretendin’ to be tough and mysterious.”

“But she’s dang good at it,” Silver Medal said, grinning. “That says something all on its own. I don’t know, there’s something about her that you just can’t fake.”

Apple Bloom stared out the window, scowling.

Silver Medal chuckled. “Whoops. Did I strike a bad chord? Didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“S’fine. Whatever.” She sighed. “I’m just… tired.”

“Right.” Silver grinned and stood up to stretch. “I’m gonna go find some snacks. I’ve heard one of these train cars is loaded.”

Apple Bloom said nothing. Silver trotted off, and out of the corner of her eye his graham colored coat seemed to turn a light shade of green…

Apple Bloom growled and shut her eyes, leaning her head against the glass windowpane. Silver’s confessions were unintentional, but they stung as much as Harper’s had. She hadn’t meant to draw anything like that from him. Would she be able to conveniently ignore his feelings when they were fighting side by side in costume?

She had planned on revealing her identity before they reached Manehattan. It only seemed fair, since she already knew that he was Rainbow Dash’s little brother. But now? What was she supposed to do? Revealing her identity might be misconstrued as reciprocation. Silver Medal was right about one thing: he was quite funny and clever, but enjoying his company was not the same as feeling attracted to him.

Worst of all, no matter how hard she tried to stay rooted, Apple Bloom’s thoughts kept branching to Harper. What might have been between them if tragedy hadn’t struck? What would she have decided about his declarations of love? How would their relationship have blossomed, just two artsy college students braving a new world together?

Such thoughts were as painful as they were pointless. Harper was gone. He was a dear friend, but she couldn’t remember ever feeling something more. There was no reason to dwell on what may or may not have been. All she could do was try and avoid any outcome even remotely similar with Silver Medal.

For now, Mare Do Well would remain mysterious. And who knew? Maybe in Manehattan, Razorwing would discover a thing for zebras.


(/\/\)


Apple Bloom leapt from rooftop to rooftop. Gravity had a hard time pulling her down. The streets of Canterlot were hundreds of miles below, buzzing with life. Its ponies were happy. They kept hugging each other.

Apple Bloom tried to talk to Lyra, but her hat was missing. She reached up and touched her face while floating between two buildings. Her mask was missing, too. She swore and kicked at the air, hiding her face with her forehooves.

Her hind hoof made contact with the sky. It shattered into enormous shards of glass which fell slowly to the city below. Apple Bloom gasped and tried to shout warnings to the ponies far below.

They could hear her. They wouldn’t stop hugging each other, smiling widely.

All of their eyes were pink and blue.

They were singing songs, eating cake, giving balloons to each other.

But the cake had drugs in it! Apple Bloom ran down the side of a building at the same speed as the falling shards of sky, screaming at the top of her lungs.

Pinkie Pie and Joe Cossitee were dancing together in the street. They finally heard Apple Bloom’s warnings and looked up.

They froze, terrified by the gigantic, sharp glass rushing toward them.

Pinkie tried to fly away, but it was too late.

“Apple Bloom!”

She jolted awake with a squeak in her throat.

Silver Medal shook her shoulder. “Apple Bloom!” he said again. “You’ve gotta get out of here, now!”

Her eyebrows drew together. “I was dreamin’…” she mumbled.

“I wish I could say you still are,” Silver said. His nervous eyes darted to the window. “Quick, wake up! You have to run!”

Her brain kicked into gear all at once and Apple Bloom bolted upright. “What’s happening? What’s wrong?” she asked.

“The train stopped, we’re evacuating,” Silver Medal said, pulling at her foreleg. “Something bad is happening in Manehattan. They want everyone off the train now.”

“Where are we?” Apple Bloom checked out the window.

“Somewhere between Phillydelphia and Manehattan,” he said. 

They were the last ponies in their train car. Once Apple Bloom snatched up her travel bag, they hurried together to an exit and joined a swarm of grumpy ponies standing on the side of the tracks in the middle of nowhere.

“What’s going on?” somepony shouted.

“What’s wrong with Manehattan?”

A red pegasus whistled above the crowd and got everypony’s attention before shouting, “The Spur is back! He’s hypnotized half the city! Get as far away as you can!”

Screams and worry erupted among the ponies. Many of them began to gallop back along the train tracks. The pegasus messenger joined them, headed for Phillydelphia or whatever town was closest.

Apple Bloom watched them run. She jumped a bit when Silver Medal put a forehoof around her neck and spoke into her ear over the noisy chaos around them.

“Go on with the rest of them,” he said. “You’ll be safe, I promise.” He flapped above the crowd toward the front of the train.

“Hey!” Apple Bloom yelled. “Where are you goin’?”

“I… I have to get to Manehattan!” he called back. “Good luck! Stay safe!”

In a blur of gold and periwinkle, he shot off into the distance, following the train tracks to the big city. Apple Bloom’s eyes widened. “Oh, horseapples…” she said under her breath.

Ponies hurried past her as more and more decided to turn back on hoof. She got back into the empty train and racked her brain. “Okay, okay, okay…” she said to herself, thinking hard. “Maybe the conductor will take me the rest of the way if I ask.”

She sprinted as fast as she could to the engine, but it too had been abandoned. She shouted angrily and kicked the wall. Ponies with swirls for eyes filled her imagination, burning down skyscrapers as a maniacal wizard cackled above them in a storm of black clouds. Shaking the image out of her head, Apple Bloom ripped open her travel bag and removed the costume.

“Maybe Mare Do Well will know what to do,” she said, and suited up.


(/\/\)


Silver Medal flew high above the city. Ponies were fleeing in droves by wing, hoof, and carriage. Yet a much larger group, packed as tightly as bees in a hive, pranced goofily in the block around Manehattan’s tallest structure, the Royal State Building. Something about their mindless, jerking movements made Silver sick to his stomach.

“Where is this coming from?” he asked himself. He scanned the outer tiers of the Royal State Building but saw nothing suspicious.

“Darn it…” he said, looking over the rest of the city. “Where am I going to find this Spritemare? Or Mare Do Well, for that matter.”

He bit his lip and dove to a rooftop in a strikingly empty section of the city just beyond the swarm of hypnotized ponies. Finding a large exhaust vent to hide inside, Silver Medal quickly donned his shiny armor. It clicked easily over his chest, back, and legs. The chain link sheath slid smoothly over his tail. He set his helmet aside for a moment and held the bladed wing sections in his hooves.

The long, jointed razors looked sharper than usual. He gulped and very gently rubbed the flat of his hoof along one of them. The metal was cold and buzzed lightly at his touch.

“I can do this,” he said, fitting the weapons over his wings. “I am in control. It wasn’t my fault.” He shivered and tightened every piece of his armor before sliding on his helmet. “I’ve done this a million times. Nothing has changed.”

He left the empty suitcase in the vent and rocketed into the sky. Tilting hard to the left, Razorwing dove into the streets of Manehattan and flew over the innumerable ponies dancing stupidly. Their eyes were wide and empty.

“What the heck is wrong with all of you?” he shouted. “Are you trying to, like, break the record for biggest flash mob in Equestrian history? Because first of all, it looks terrible, and second, flash mobs are way out of style.”

Suddenly, a strange clinking noise, like the jingle of muted bells, filled the inside of his mind.

“Whoa,” he said, and shook his head to get rid of the noise. But was it a noise? It seemed to be bypassing his ears, vibrating directly into his mind.

“Oh Luna, I’m gonna barf…” he moaned, squeezing his temples under the helmet. “Hey! Knock it off, whoever’s doing that! I’m… I’mmmmeeeuuughh…”

His wings flapped slower and slower, lowering his body closer to the crowd. The ponies below reached for his dangling hind legs, eager to pull him into their mass.

From around a corner of the Royal State Building, a winged zebra in a red mask tore through the air on rapidly buzzing wings and grabbed Razorwing under his forearms. The drooling ponies below jumped onto each others shoulders and pushed bodies around them to form a tall wave. It chased the flying heroes for only a moment before crashing back into its sea.

Spritemare carried Razorwing far from the city’s center. As the noises in his head diminished, Razorwing slowly regained consciousness.

“Wyyeeh!” he shouted, swishing his sheathed tail around. “Hey! Lemme go! Let me go, get off me!”

“Calm down, jeez!” Spritemare yelled, dropping him onto an angled rooftop. “I’m saving your butt.”

“Whoa!” Razorwing tumbled a few times on the sloped roof and steadied himself at its edge. “Huh? Who are you?”

She landed and spread out her four translucent wings. “Spritemare,” she said. “You must be Razorwing.”

He beamed. “Yeah! That’s right! Awesome, good to meet you. Sorry for, uh, freaking out back there.” He reached up and adjusted his helmet.

“You were under his spell, but only for a moment,” Spritemare said. “It doesn’t affect me for some reason. Probably because of… well, everything that’s happened to me.” She buzzed the larger of her wings.

“Yeah, how did that happen?” Razorwing asked. “Are those real?”

“They are, but we don’t have time to talk origin stories,” Spritemare quipped. “Where’s Mare Do Well?”

“Yeah, great question.” Razorwing took to the sky and spun around. “I haven’t seen her, to be honest. She told me last night that she’d find me in Manehattan, but that was it.”

“Probably scoping out the situation from the shadows,” Spritemare said.

Razorwing could hear the smile under her mask. “Right?” he said enthusiastically. “Augh, Mare Do Well is so awesome. I bet she’s waiting for just the right moment to swoop in and—pow, blam, boom!” He punched the air with his forehooves.

“Or maybe she’s waiting until the cover of night,” Spritemare said, crouching on the edge of the roof, “and she’ll dive from the highest point of the Royal State Building and take out the Spur in one punch!”

“Yeah!” Razorwing threw a hoof above his head. “That would be awesome! Where is the Spur, by the way?”

“He’s inside the Royal State Building, ground floor. He’s got ponies hypnotized all through the entire thing. I can’t find a way in.”

“What’s the plan, then?” 

“All I know is that if we can knock him out, the spell breaks,” said Spritemare. “It worked last time, anyway.”

“What is he trying to do?”

“I don’t know… last time he was ranting about taking everypony away from Equestria, away from Princess Sparkle.” Spritemare took off. “We’d better find Mare Do Well. I’m sure she’ll know what to do.”

“Yeah, definitely.” Razorwing joined her in the air. “You know this place better than me. Where should we check first?”

“Let’s start at the train station,” said Spritemare.

“I was just there and I didn’t see her,” Razorwing said. “Besides, trains are stopped. They got word of what’s happening and nothing’s coming to the end of the line.”

“Shoot!”

They flew together above the city. Spritemare pointed to the edge of the city where the train tracks snaked into the distance.

“If the trains are stopped, what do you call that?”

Razorwing followed her gaze. A lone train engine, disconnected from any cars behind it, bolted along the tracks. Smoke spewed from its stack and sparks danced outward from its blurry wheels.

“I’m guessing that’s her dramatic entrance!” Razorwing exclaimed. “Let’s go!”

They dove closer to the train station. The speeding train didn’t slow down as it approached the Manehattan station. Spritemare and Razorwing stopped simultaneously and slowly floated upward.

“Uh oh…” Spritemare said.

“The city’s evacuated, right?” Razorwing’s voice cracked.

Like a big, clumsy dog tripping into a cornfield, the locomotive hit the end of the tracks at terrific speeds and launched through several buildings at the edge of Manehattan, spraying bricks, wood, and sparks in all directions. It broke through a number of walls and tipped over after several consecutive collisions with lampposts and parked carriages. It skidded to a stop in the middle of a wide, empty street, wheels spinning slowly in place.

Razorwing and Spritemare were at the scene in an instant. “Mare Do Well!” Razorwing screamed, throwing open the sky-facing door of the engine. “Mare Do Well, are you okay?”

Spritemare dropped through the door. “There’s nopony in here!” she said.

“Then what was—” At the familiar whipping of fabric, Razorwing looked down the street through the wreckage. Gliding several feet above the ground, Mare Do Well soared to the fallen train down the middle of the road. She let go of her cloak and landed hard on the ground by the unpinned coupler at the engine’s rear. The severe eyes of her mask peered at Razorwing from under the brim of her hat.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said.


(/\/\)


“Well, that was a bit excessive,” said Lyra.

“Wow.” Spritemare stared in awe. “You’re really her.”

“Ooo, who’s this?” Lyra asked as Mare Do Well focused on the hovering zebra. “A pro wrestler with an insect gimmick?”

“Spritemare,” greeted Mare Do Well. “I hope we’re not too late.”

“So do I,” Spritemare said. “The Spur has been hiding in the Royal State Building for two days. He got everypony inside the building right away, and his influence has been spreading ever since. Now he’s surrounded by legions of hypnotized ponies. I couldn’t get through to him.”

“We don’t know his motives yet. Might be directed at the Princess herself,” Razorwing added.

“How is he doing this?” Mare Do Well asked Spritemare.

“He has… something on his hooves,” she said, tapping the back of one hind leg with the other. “Little metal circles. They’re kinda spiky.”

“Hmm.” Mare Do Well tugged at the brim of her hat.

“On it,” said Lyra. “I’ll let you know when I’m back.”

Mare Do Well nodded. “Anything else you can tell me?”

“To make this stop, all we need to do is take him out,” Spritemare said.

“Knock him out,” Razorwing said quickly. “Right? The ponies go free if he’s unconscious?”

Spritemare tilted her head at him. “Yes. At least, that’s what happened last time. All I did was hit him in the head really hard. He was down for maybe ten seconds, but it was enough for the spell to wear off. He got away.”

“How?” asked Mare Do Well.

“Huh?”

Mare Do Well pointed at the zebra’s buzzing wings. “You can fly, he was momentarily incapacitated. What happened, how did he get away? Is he a pegasus?”

“No, he’s an earth pony. I was… also incapacitated.” She landed by Razorwing and turned around, displaying the scabby stub where her tail used to be. 

“Whoa!” Razorwing stepped back. “Did the Spur do that?”

“The hypnotized ponies held me down. He used one of the circles on his hooves to… to cut off my tail.” She hid the scar, embarrassed, and looked at Mare Do Well. “He’s dangerous and insane. We need to stop this as soon as we can.”

Razorwing lifted a hoof. “Oh! Also, she isn’t affected by the, uh… whatever it is he’s doing. But I am. I flew too close and started losing my mind.”

“What do you mean?” Mare Do Well asked.

“I don’t know, some kind of bell sound in my head. Like, not in my ears, directly in my head. Does that make sense?”

“Very much so,” Mare Do Well said. “Interesting. I want to know if it affects me, too. How close do we need to get, Spritemare?”

“The Royal State Building is that way,” she said, pointing. “I’ll lead the way.”

“Razorwing, get me to that roof,” Mare Do Well said, gazing up at the tallest building in their vicinity.

Razorwing wrapped his hooves around Mare Do Well from behind and carried her up. For a brief moment, she worried he might misinterpret the request as a desire to be closer, to be held by him. Such thoughts were dashed when he spat loudly.

“Plah, bleh! Why is your collar so freaking long?”

He set her down on the rooftop and rubbed his lips. “Tickly…” he complained.

Spritemare joined them. “Ready?” she asked.

Mare Do Well crouched. “Lead the way. Stay low.”

Spritemare dove. Mare Do Well jumped, holding the ends of her cape to glide after the masked zebra. Razorwing took the rear. Mare Do Well was suddenly conscious of how tightly her suit gripped her flanks.

The normally bustling streets were eerily empty and quiet. When Spritemare landed in the middle of a crosswalk, Mare Do Well could faintly hear the open-throated hollers and noisy hooves of the hypnotized crowd.

“We’re just a few blocks away now,” Spritemare said. “How do you feel?”

Mare Do Well and Razorwing looked at each other.

“Fine,” Razorwing said, shrugging.

“Let’s get closer on hoof.” 

Spritemare led the way around abandoned carriages. “Let me know if you start—”

“There it is!” Razorwing yelled, pushing himself several yards backward with his wings. “I started to hear it.”

Spritemare rushed toward Mare Do Well. “Get back!”

“Wait!” Mare Do Well held up a hoof and listened. Nothing unusual reached her ears, let alone her brain. She grabbed the top of her hat and lifted it. A peculiar ringing entered her skull immediately. She pushed the hat harder onto her head. “I’m safe,” she said. “My hat is enchanted. I can’t hear it while it’s on.”

“Are you serious? That’s awesome!” Razorwing shouted from down the street with his hooves cupped around his mouth. “How’d you get your hat enchanted?”

“Better question, how are we going to get you in the fight?” Mare Do Well yelled back.

Razorwing slumped. “Oh, crap. Uhh…”

“What if you cover your ears?” yelled Spritemare.

Carefully, Razorwing lifted his wings and used them to block sound around his helmet. His trot forward was hesitant and short; soon he leapt backward, shaking his head vigorously. “Nope, nope, nope! Doesn’t help!”

“Stay on the perimeter, then,” Mare Do Well shouted, “and stay high. We won’t let him escape this time.”

“Awwww!” Razorwing huffed before he took to the air. “Fine! Don’t do anything too cool without me!”

He soared higher. Mare Do Well gave a sharp nod to Spritemare and they galloped onward side by side.

“Here, let’s get a better view,” Spritemare said, reaching to scoop up Mare Do Well as Razorwing had.

“I got this one,” Mare Do Well said. She ran full speed at the brick wall ahead of them. Her wrapped up hooves hit the surface and she scrambled to the ledge above a display window. Spritemare gawked as Mare Do Well utilized her strength, throwing her body from one improvised hoofhold to the next until she pulled herself onto the roof.

Spritemare laughed. She buzzed behind Mare Do Well and watched her jump from roof to roof, occasionally looking up to focus on the spire of the nearby Royal State Building. Within minutes, they were overlooking the crowd.

“It’s gotten bigger,” Spritemare said. “Look how far it goes down that street.”

“Let’s not forget these are ponies,” Mare Do Well said. “They’re not the enemy here.”

“That’s very true, but they’re still dangerous.” Spritemare grimaced. “They’ll fight for him, and what they lack in strength or skill is made up in numbers and disregard for personal safety.”

Mare Do Well nodded. “Good to know. Where’s the Spur?”

“He’s got to be on the ground floor. Most of the hypnotized ponies inside the building are packed into the lower levels. The top’s nearly empty.”

“A living barricade.” Mare Do Well sighed. “What is he doing in there? What’s the plan?”

Spritemare shook her head. “I have no idea. All I heard him say last time was that ponies deserved to be taken away from this country, like they’re all suffering here. He said he had a boat ready for them, I think.”

“Hmm. Let’s wait here a moment. I’m waiting for more information.”

Spritemare gave her a sideways glance. “More information? From where?”

Mare Do Well pulled at the brim of her hat. “This thing isn’t just a fashion statement.”

Moments later, Lyra shouted “Got it!” into Mare Do Well’s brain. “Funny, the little metal things on this hooves? Yeah, they’re actually called spurs, believe it or not. Pretty easy to find. They’re a very ancient, frankly disgusting device earth ponies used to ‘encourage’ each other to work the land when it started getting cold.” Mare Do Well heard Lyra tap on the pages of a book. “There’s a goofy diagram here. They’d sit a smaller pony, with spurs strapped to his hooves, on top of a big one pulling a plow, and when the big pony slowed down the small one would kick him in the ribs!” Lyra guffawed. “Barbaric.”

“Were they magic?” Mare Do Well asked softly.

“Uhhh… no, totally an earth pony thing. Although, it’s not ridiculous to think that a unicorn heard about the idea and put their own spin on things. Whatever he’s using might be very old.”

A massive flash of light startled Spritemare and Mare Do Well.

“Jeez! What the hay was that?” asked Lyra.

“Where did that come from?” Mare Do Well asked Spritemare.

“The unicorns!” Spritemare pointed at the crowd below. “Look!”

The horns of every unicorn in the Spur’s mindless crowd were glowing brightly. Sparks of magic rose in quick wisps, joining into thicker streams above their heads and coalescing at the spire of the Royal State Building high overhead.

“What the…”

The spire began to vibrate visibly. A strange ringing emitted from it in steady pulses.

“Sweet Celestia!” Lyra said. “He’s using it like an amplifier!”

“He’s trying to send it farther,” Mare Do Well murmured. “Hypnotize the whole country…”

“We need to get in there!” Spritemare said. “Mare Do Well, what do we do?”

“Follow me,” said Mare Do Well, “and get ready to fight.”

Together they jumped, together they soared toward the base of the Royal State Building. The crowd made no reaction to their presence at first. Mare Do Well pulled tighter at her cape and leaned into the glide, trying to gain speed.

Unicorn magic swirled around their bodies. The spire high above glowed orange like melting metal, vibrating louder every second. The Royal State Building was only a few hundred feet away, the heroes closing in—

The wide-eyed ponies pushed and balanced over one another with astounding speed, forming a wall in front of the fliers. Spritemare’s wings kicked into another gear and she shot directly upward. 

“Look out!” cried Lyra.

Mare Do Well tried to swerve around the wall of ponies, but her cape lost its lift and she fell into the fray.

“Go, go!” she shouted at Spritemare as the ponies pulled her into their mass. A mound of them piled on top of Mare Do Well, crushing her lungs under the weight. She struggled to breathe, kicking up desperately.

“Apple Bloom!” yelled Lyra. “Get them off, get them off!”

Mare Do Well’s vision began to blur. There were hooves everywhere, but the most painful pressure came from her neck, ribs, and ankles.

All at once, the ponies were ripped from her body like gum from a sidewalk. She vacuumed in two lung fulls of air and rolled onto her hooves. As her vision came back, she stared in disbelief at the five insect-winged zebras carrying away several ponies each.

“Is this real or did I pass out and start dreaming?” Mare Do Well asked aloud.

“I’m still here, but I can’t say with confidence that answers your question,” said Lyra. “Where did they come from?”

Something grabbed Mare Do Well from behind. She tried to hit them in the face with the back of her hoof, but her punch was blocked.

“It’s me!” said Spritemare. “I’m getting you out of here!”

Mare Do Well let Spritemare carry her above the mass. It was clear how much stronger than Razorwing she was by the way she effortlessly tucked the ends of her hooves under Mare Do Well’s forelegs. The higher they climbed, the better Mare Do Well could see the five other zebras—exactly identical to Spritemare, down to the missing tail—fighting down aggressive ponies in the crowd.

“What are you?” Mare Do Well yelled. The noise of the crowd and the increasing volume of the spire made it hard to hear otherwise.

“Part parasprite,” she answered. “More than just the wings.”

Mare Do Well tensed. “You… spit those things out of your mouth?”

“What? No, gross! Is that how parasprites do it? I just have to… think about it, and they appear and disappear.”

“Holy crap!” said Lyra.

“Why didn’t you tell us earlier?” asked Mare Do Well.

Spritemare shrugged. “It’s weird and a little embarrassing. I haven’t told anyone.”

“I’m honored,” Mare Do Well quipped. “You have super strength, too?”

Spritemare flexed, lifting Mare Do Well up and down like a dumbbell. “Um… I guess so.”

“Good, new plan. Throw me,” she said, pointing to the huge front doors of the Royal State Building below. “As hard as you can. I’ll be all right. Then use your clones over there to keep them away from me until I get in.”

“But there are ponies on the inside, too.”

“Then make more of you!”

“I can’t!” Spritemare shook her head. “Five is the most I’ve ever done, and I didn’t even know if it would work! Usually I just do two or three.”

“If you can go from two to five, you can go from five to ten.” Mare Do Well tried to look over her shoulder at Spritemare. “It’s ten now, or ten thousand when the Spur hypnotizes all of Equestria.”

“Uhh, Apple Bloom?” Lyra said. “I’m starting to hear something weird….”

“Now, Spritemare!” Mare Do Well shouted. “Do it now! There’s no time!”

“Aaugh!” Spritemare spun around twice and threw Mare Do Well at the building’s entrance as hard as she could. Ponies from the crowd rose up in columns and tried to grab Mare Do Well, but her projection was far too fast. She spread out her cloak at the last moment and bucked the glass doors. They broke… and a wave of mindless ponies spewed into the streets as though Mare Do Well had opened a faucet.

She braced herself, but body after limp body knocked her off her balance and she was swept up in the flow within seconds. Somepony grabbed her cape and pulled her down into the depths of the hypnotized pony sea. Her hat was lost in the chaos, and Lyra’s screams gave way to a peculiar, rhythmic ringing noise. Black rings appeared around her vision and her hooves began to twitch in sync with the jingling.

Then somepony pushed her hat onto her head and the droning sounds suddenly stopped. She kicked and fought against the squirming crowd around her before noticing that most of them had stripes.

Ten Spritemares zipped, dove, and flipped around each other, throwing ponies aside and making a path for Mare Do Well and the Spritemare standing next to her with one hoof holding down the hat on Mare Do Well’s head.

“You can let go now,” Mare Do Well said, adjusting the brim. “Is this the real you, or…?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m me,” Spritemare nodded. Her voice was weak. “Let’s go, I can’t keep this up for much longer.”

They galloped through the parted sea and into the building. The ten zebras followed, fighting off and tackling hoards of wide-eyed ponies lurching to stop the two advancing heroes.

“Are you controlling all of them?” Mare Do Well asked.

“Kind of?” Spritemare flinched. “Ah! I-I’m sorry, I really can’t explain it!”

“That’s fine, just keep running!” She looked ahead and shouted, “There he is!”

A stallion with a bandana around his neck was dancing on a large front desk. Metal circles attached to each of his hooves were glowing orange like the Royal State Building’s spire. His face was awash with terror as Mare Do Well and Spritemares barreled straight toward him. He danced faster, sweat dripping down his face, and then finally screamed and collapsed into a quivering ball.

Neither Mare Do Well nor Spritemare were ready to risk a trap. They jumped onto the desk and worked together to incapacitate the stallion: Mare Do Well held him around the neck while Spritemare and two of her doppelgangers ripped the spurs from his ankles and threw them clattering to the ground.

For a moment—a very long moment—the city fell completely silent.


}{S}{M}{


Even on the rooftop, Spritemare could barely hear herself shout over the celebratory roar of the Manehattan crowds below.

“Do they always react like this?” she yelled close to Mare Do Well’s ear. Beneath her mask, she was beaming.

Razorwing laughed. “When they see us, they do! But we’ve never seen anything like this!”

Mare Do Well watched over the edge of the building. The crowds were free again, their eyes full of life and mirth. Their cheers were deafening, and while almost all eyes were pointed at Spritemare and the heroes of Canterlot, Spritemare noticed Mare Do Well watching the Manehattan police force throwing the Spur into the back of a metal carriage and sealing his four metal circles in a magically unbreakable box.

“I can’t thank you enough for coming to help,” Spritemare yelled. “I couldn’t have done it alone. We just saved Equestria!”

“Maybe,” said Mare Do Well. “He doesn’t seem all too dangerous. He just got a hold of something powerful.”

“I’d say those are the most dangerous,” Spritemare said. “It doesn’t matter. We stopped him, and that’s that.”

“You stopped him,” Mare Do Well said. She finally turned in Spritemare’s direction. “You were amazing down there. I don’t know what happened to you, but you’re using it for good. Thank you.”

Spritemare was speechless. She laughed. “It’s—ha! It’s nothing, really. Er, thanks.” She cleared her throat. “If you ever need my help in Canterlot, just get word to me. I’ll come right away.”

Mare Do Well nodded. “I’m sure we’ll take you up on that. There’s a gang run by a griffon that works between Canterlot and Cloudsdale. Not much I can do for a city in the sky, but you two will be invaluable.”

“Just let me know,” Spritemare said. She looked down at the surging crowd. “We should probably go before they send some pegasi up here to nab us.”

“Great to meet you, Spritemare!” Razorwing said. He saluted. “I’m sure we’ll see you soon!”

Spritemare jumped high into the air and buzzed away to a far corner of the city. The crowd erupted anew with delighted cheers. By the time she looked over her shoulder at the rooftop, Razorwing and Mare Do Well were gone.
> 17 - Parts to Play
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
PARTS TO PLAY


Apple Bloom stared out the window of the train, resting her face on one hoof. The terrain was different than what she was used to. She had never visited Trottingham before, or even knew much about the elusive, ancient city. She remembered a few details from Cheerilee’s history lessons: that Trottingham was among the oldest pony-made cities, that it existed before the founding of Equestria and was later absorbed into the nation, that the upper class Canterlotian accent originated in Trottingham, and that it rained there. A lot.

The latter, at least, was apparent even an hour out from the city. The grass of the hills was a darker green that Apple Bloom was used to, and their beauty was accentuated by the thick grey clouds looming above as far as the eye could see. Rain pattered on the top of the train and dribbled down the windows in steady veins.

Lightning struck in the distance, too far away for her to hear the thunder. The flash drew her attention to her own reflection in the glass, as well as the empty seat beside her. She took a quick glance around the train car. There were very few other ponies, each absorbed in their own activities. Apple Bloom sighed and hoped Razorwing would stay safe until she got back.

Still, she was glad he hadn’t insisted on coming with her to Trottingham. While there was no emergency there, rumors of another vigilante cleaning up its streets were buzzing in Canterlot. Apple Bloom was eager to meet them.

The train slowed, its brakes squeaking in the rain, and stopped at a small station. A poorly lit sign outside the window said “HORSETON”. A grin played at the corner of Apple Bloom’s mouth as she imagined a group of young friends at the Horseton Elementary School pining to get their Cutie Marks together.

Every other passenger in her train car stood up and left the train in Horseton. Apple Bloom lifted her eyebrows in surprise when the train lurched forward and she found herself alone. With a few quick looks up and down the aisle of the car, Apple Bloom removed the purple hat from her travel bag and placed it over her thick red mane in desperate need of a trim.

“You there, Lyra?” she asked aloud.

“Sure am, Apple Bloom,” Lyra said. She sipped something that clinked when she set it down. “How’s everypony’s favorite savior of Equestria?”

“Psh.” Apple Bloom rolled her eyes. “Is it weird that it don’t feel all that impressive to me?”

“Not really,” Lyra said. “You grew up in the shadows of humble mares who saved Equestria half a dozen times and barely even changed their daily routines. Heck, one of them’s your big sister!”

Apple Bloom wilted a little. “I hope Applejack’s all right,” she said.

“Oh, she’s fine,” Lyra said. “I just talked with her the other day, actually.”

“What?” Apple Bloom shot up. “You did? How?”

“Uh, I saw her at Carousel Boutique? Not that weird.”

Gaping, Apple Bloom had to collect her thoughts before responding. “But… Rainbow Dash told me she had disappeared from Ponyville, that nopony knew where she was!”

“Oh yeah, she did say that. Hmm.” Lyra took another sip and chuckled. “Well, I think she stayed at Sweet Apple Acres for a long time and there was a rumor that she skipped town when she didn’t show up at the market for a couple of weeks, but… nah, she’s still here.”

Apple Bloom collapsed in her chair with a heavy sigh. “Oh, thank Celestia. I feel like a big ol’ knot just untied in my stomach.”

“Oops. I’m sorry, Bloom.” The wince in her voice was easy to hear. “I should have told you earlier. I didn’t realize you were so worried.”

“Yeah, jeez, Lyra.” Apple Bloom chuckled. “Anything else you’re not tellin’ me? I like Ponyville updates, you know.”

Lyra was quiet for a moment. She cleared her throat. “Um… well, since we’re talking about Applejack, there is something I should probably tell you.”

Apple Bloom’s brow furrowed. “What is it?”

“Well… so, when I saw her at the Boutique the other day, she was really upset. Like, really upset, more than I’ve ever seen her. And, I don’t know, I didn’t want her to worry about you, so… I told her that I’ve been helping you do the Mare Do Well thing.”

“What!?” Apple Bloom shouted. “Come on, Lyra! Are you serious? You think that’ll make her less worried?” She groaned loudly. “She’s prob’ly already in Canterlot lookin’ for me.”

“Eh, I doubt it. She didn’t seem too surprised. I mean, she already knew what you were going to do, didn’t she? If anything, I think she was happy to know somepony was looking after her.”

“Did you tell her about Rainbow Dash or Razorwing or… Doctor Cossittee?” Apple Bloom gulped.

“No, no, nothing like that. All I said was that you’re doing really well, you’re safe, ponies love you, stuff like that.” She chuckled. “No, even when Rarity asked for the details, I was careful not to say anything that—”

“Rarity was there?” Apple Bloom interrupted. “You told Rarity, too?”

Lyra guffawed. “Well, obviously she knew you’re behind the Mare Do Well stunts in Canterlot, Apple Bloom. You got the costume from her, remember?”

“That don’t matter, Lyra. You can’t go blabblin’ about this to everypony! What if it gets to somepony who shouldn’t know?”

“Oh, come on, Apple Bloom, it’s not a big deal. You barely live in Canterlot anyway, nopony knows who Apple Bloom is.”

“What about when I need to get a job? Sweetie Belle can’t support me forever.”

“And why not? That’s her part in all this: you go kick flank, she pays the bills. Everypony’s got a specialty.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Sweetie Belle is my friend!”

“I’m not saying anything bad about Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, I’m just saying you deserve to be taken care of. You’re doing a lot for the city she lives in!”

“Not for long, once Rarity gets the gossip to everypony and their dog.”

“She won’t t—”

“Lyra, stop justifyin’ yerself and just promise you won’t tell anypony else.”

“Hey, whoa, I didn’t do anything wrong. I told your older sister and one of her closest friends that you’re not dead and actually doing all right for yourself.”

“Well, don’t! Maybe it’d be better if they thought I was dead!”

“Get a hold of yourself, Apple Bloom, you’re being ridiculous!”

“I just don’t wantcha—”

“You think this is easy for me?” Lyra asked sharply. “You think it’s easy to sit in Ponyville, watching you play the hero and nearly get killed, and then just go about my normal day? We all have our part to play, Apple Bloom, and yours might be more intense, but that doesn’t make the rest of ours easy.”

“What does that have to do with tellin’ Applejack?”

“I didn’t tell her anything!”

“Ughh!” Apple Bloom pulled off the hat and threw it under her seat, crossing her forehooves over her chest and watching the rain hit the window.

Trottingham appeared at the foot of a hill. A clock tower stood above a layer of fog that only revealed the roofs of the tallest buildings. The architecture was tall and gothic. Even from a distance, Apple Bloom could tell the city was made mostly of grey stone, a feature of ancient earth pony craft.

The rain outside turned into wet fog as the train approached the dark Trottingham station. A pleasant chill swept through Apple Bloom’s empty car when the train stopped and the doors open. She shoved her hat back in the travel bag and trotted out into the unfamiliar city.

Despite the weather, there were quite a few ponies bustling in the narrow cobblestone streets of the city. Nearly all of them were clothed in long coats featuring buttons and leather straps, sporting scarves and old fashioned hats. Apple Bloom shivered and made her way through the town, though the fog made it difficult to see very far ahead.

The cold sunk into her skin. She stopped a well dressed pony in the street and said, “‘Scuse me! Where’s someplace I can stay for the night?”

“Oy, a south’nah!” said the stallion. “Don’t git many o’ your lot ‘round ‘ere, sweet.” His expression was hard to read, but not unhappy. He turned around and pointed down the road behind him. “Jus’ up there, y’o’ll find the Saggin’ Saddle, a loverly little spot for a drink and a bed. Not an ‘undred trots down this very road! Nigh’, then.” He tipped his hat and hurried off.

Apple Bloom blinked. “The Saggin’ Saddle?” she said aloud to herself. “Doesn’t sound very, er… loverly.” Her teeth began to chatter so she hurried to find the inn. “That’s sure not the Trottingham accent I expected…” she mumbled.

The Sagging Saddle’s faded sign hung from a post by its front door. Apple Bloom entered and sighed at the welcome warmth. A fire burned in the central hearth, casting a nice orange glow that contrasted the grey world outside. Several ponies sat at round tables throughout the ground floor, and Apple Bloom noticed two staircases leading up on opposite ends of the building. Between them, along the back wall, was a long bar at which sat a few slumped ponies with their hats off. A mare with a braided green mane behind the counter slid a plate of food to one of them.

Apple Bloom caught her attention immediately. “‘Ello there,” said the mare. She was young and pretty, and while her teeth were a bit crooked there was something charming in her smile. “Visiting, are we?”

“That’s right,” Apple Bloom said with a weak smile of her own. “I was wonderin’ if y’all have a room I can rent for a night’r two?”

“What a curious accent you’re sporting,” said the mare. “From where are you?”

“Ponyville,” Apple Bloom said, “southeast of Canterlot.”

“Oh yes, I’ve ‘eard of Ponyville.” The mare giggled. “Very well, of course we have a room for you. I’ll fetch the key.”

She turned around and rummaged through an old wooden drawer. Apple Bloom took in the sights and sounds of the inn. While strange to her, there was a nice feeling in the air, as though nothing had changed in hundreds of years.

“Yours’ll be room fourteen, Miss,” said the mare, handing Apple Bloom a large brass key on a ring with the number 14 engraved. “Nine bits for a night.”

Apple Bloom raised her eyebrows. “Oh… uh, okay.” She began fishing through her bag.

“Price may seem a bit steep, Miss,” said the mare with an apologetic look, “but we’ll feed you free in the mornin’, and the food’s right proper.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. Breakfast sounds dandy.” Apple Bloom dropped nine gold pieces on the counter.

The mare smiled and scooped them carefully into her apron. “It’s not us’ally this pricey, Miss, but earlier this year we was hit with a series of thieveries, I’m afraid.” Her smile dimmed. “We would like to get back to the way things were, once things get a bit more… steady.”

Apple Bloom frowned. “Whaddaya mean ‘steady’?”

The mare bit her lip.

One of the stallions at the bar turned to Apple Bloom with a sour expression. “Yuh’ve come callin’ at a poor time, lass. Trottingham’s been cursed,” he said in a gruff, unfamiliar accent. “This in’t the sole establishment been robbed its gold. Wealth all over the city, disappearin’ without a trace. Strange sightings of monsters in the Moonlight. If I were you, lass, I’d not stay here a night ‘n’ be back to Ponyville on the next train.”

“If I’m not mistaken, one cannot travel to Ponyville by train these days,” a second stallion said, further down the bar. His clothes were clean, especially the immaculate blue top hat covering his silver mane. His voice was more along the lines of the accent Apple Bloom used for Mare Do Well. “Some sort of royally established social quarantine, if I’m not wrong.”

“Nope, yer spot on,” said Apple Bloom. “I’ve been livin’ in Canterlot lately. And thanks for the advice there, but I’m here to meet a friend and I’ve seen my fair share o’ monsters.”

The gruff stallion stared at Apple Bloom a moment, but soon grinned. He was missing some bottom teeth and sported an enormous orange beard. “Heh heh… aye, I imagine y’have, lass. Name’s Slam McHaggis. Tell me, who’s the friend lurin’ ya to such a dreadful town? All I need’s a name, I know every poor soul in Trottingham.”

“Then there’s no sense lyin’ to ya,” Apple Bloom said, smiling. “I ain’t here to see a friend, really. I’m here on account of a rumor I heard.”

“Oh? And what’s the chit chat stretchin’ all the way to yon Canterlot?” Slam asked, squinting.

“Monsters ain’t the only new inhabitants of the streets here, are they?” she asked. “I heard somepony’s trying to do some good, too.”

“Ahhh…” Slam nodded slowly. “Yer speakin’ o’ Harness, lass.”

“I’m not surprised the word has gotten around,” said the stallion in the top hat, sneering. “That fool’s been stirring up trouble for nearly a month now.”

“He’s no fool, Checker,” scolded the mare behind the counter. “He’s the only one tryin’ to stop whatever’s come upon us.” She blushed a little and ran a rag over the countertop. “I think he’s somethin’ of an hero, meself.”

“Oh, do try to curb your enthusiasm, Penny.” Checker guffawed and adjusted his top hat. “He’s a mad pony, traipsing about the streets in the dead of night, frightening the innocent in his absurd quest to cleanse Trottingham. The world is a different place now with Princess Sparkle on the throne. There’s no reason to pretend otherwise. We may as well accept it, rather than bow to the whims of the Mare Do Well and her copycats.”

Penny gasped and looked at Apple Bloom. “You said you live in Canterlot, Miss? Have you ever seen the Mare Do Well?”

Apple Bloom shook her head. “Afraid not. Have any o’ y’all seen this Harness character? What does he look like?”

“They say he’s enormous,” Penny giggled. “Big as a buildin’, I’ve ‘eard.”

“Aye, they say he leaps from corner to corner in a single bound,” said Slam with a gleam in his eye. “He wears the tattered black mask of an executioner, and his coat of white is stained by blood.”

“Hogwash,” muttered Checker. He got up from the bar and headed out of the inn. “I can’t bear to hear the praise of a mad pony any longer.”

“Have you seen him, Slam?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Aye, lass,” Slam said. “He’s mighty quick fer such a big’n, but I seen him one cloudy eve in the slivers of Moonlight, chasin’ a monster back to its lair.”

Apple Bloom smiled. “Where?”


(/\/\)


Ornery Checker, pulling his blue top hat tighter over his forehead, marched through the foggy avenues of Trottingham, grumbling to himself.

“Stupid, mindless earth ponies… no respect for craft, no understanding of progress…”

His words were too soft for most to hear, not that anypony around him was listening. Above him, however, balanced on the peak of a steeply angled rooftop, a wide, hulking stallion with a darkly spotted white coat listened through the coarse fabric of his menacing hood. Draped around his chest and flank were dark, buckled straps and rusted metal rings. With surprising silence considering his size, the stallion who called himself Harness followed Checker through the fog, avoiding the attention of anypony strolling through an evening in Trottingham.

The night waxed on, and Checker still walked. Trottingham was a sprawling city of very narrow streets; most of its citizens walked great distances every day. Even by those standards, however, Harness was concerned at how far Checker kept going. Did he know he was being followed? Even when all other ponies had retired to their homes, Checker hurried on into older and older districts of the city. Where was he going?

Harness heard a strange sound, like a flag whipping in a strong wing, behind him. He spun around in time to see Mare Do Well let go of her cloak and land on all fours. She stood tall and nodded. “Harness, is it?”

Harness’ dark eyes were hidden behind two ragged holes in the hood’s black fabric. He stared at Mare Do Well in silence for a while, then said, “Leave,” and turned his attention back to Checker.

Mare Do Well zoned in on the same target. “Who is he?” she asked.

“Leave,” Harness said again. His voice was low and soft, like a rumbling whisper. “I don’t want you here.”

“I’d like to get to know you,” Mare Do Well said, “and help you however I can.”

“I don’t need help.” Like a grasshopper, the huge stallion coiled his legs and jumped across the street, landing into a quiet roll up another steep roof to keep his eyes trained on Checker.

Mare Do Well glided after him and spoke with a smile in her voice. “I’m Mare Do Well,” she said. “I protect Canterlot. I heard you’re doing the same here in Trottingham.”

“I am,” said Harness. “Alone.”

“You don’t need to do it alone. I know better than anypony that this job can be overwhelming. When we work together—”

“You can drop the accent,” Harness said. “I know you’re not from Trottingham.”

Mare Do Well’s words caught in her throat. She kept up the voice to say, “Well, no, but I do like to disguise my voice, if you don’t mind.”

“It’s not bad,” Harness said. “I didn’t mean… it’s a good accent.” He cleared his throat. “I just… I know it’s pretend.”

“I don’t mind if you know,” Mare Do Well said, pointing down at Checker, “but don’t tell the likes of him. Who is he?”

Harness sighed. The fabric of his mask quivered around his nostrils. “Ornery Checker. A tax collector for the city.”

“Trying to get a higher return?” Mare Do Well asked.

Harness glared at her. The light of the city glinted sharply in his eyes behind the small holes.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m not usually the comic relief.”

“Nor am I,” Harness said, “and I don’t need any. Leave.”

“No.” She turned her head. “I’ll stay out of your way, if that’s what you want, but I need to make sure that Trottingham’s hero is doing his part to clean up Equestria. I care about more than just Canterlot.”

Harness was still. “Is that why you went to Manehattan?” he asked. “Making sure its hero was doing their part?”

“Spritemare asked for my help,” Mare Do Well said. “She is a dedicated and capable protector of her city. I hope to see the same in you, and to offer my services at any time.”

Harness snorted. “Fine, you can watch. If you’ll then leave.”

Mare Do Well tipped her hat. “I won’t do a thing until you ask for my help.”

“I won’t.” Harness’ eyes swept over the section of the city where they stood, spotting Checker by the base of the clock tower.

“Why him?” Mare Do Well asked.

“Have you seen the creatures that plague these streets?” Harness asked.

Mare Do Well shook her head.

Harness tensed. “They are evil. That’s really all I can say. I don’t know how else to describe it. They look like ponies, I suppose—shrunken ponies. But something about them is unsettling beyond words. The sight of them makes the hair rise all along your spine. They’re everything bad about ponykind, every awful thing we’re capable of, concentrated in an individual form.”

“How many are there?” Mare Do Well asked.

“Not many,” said Harness. “Less than a dozen, I think. They’re ferocious and violent, but seem intelligent and even… delighted.” He shook his head. “Delighted to be alive.”

Mare Do Well looked down at Checker. He was standing under the clocktower, checking a pocketwatch frequently and surveying the nearby, empty roads.

“Is he one of them?” Mare Do Well asked.

“What?” Harness sighed. “No. You’ll know when you see them.”

“Then what does this have to do with Ornery Checker?”

Harness crouched as Checker scanned the rooftops nearest him. Softly, Harness said, “I believe he may have created them.”


(/\/\)


Razorwing flew along the northern edge of the Everfree Forest. According to the samples Mare Do Well had analyzed, the drugs called ‘sap’ were coming from a mulberry tree. He reached back and felt the shard of crystal sap tucked into his armor, remembering the big griffon he’d taken it from some time ago. It had been so easy to use his blades to win that fight without a second thought.

“And it’ll be easy again,” Razorwing said to himself. “Confidence, confidence. You’re good at this. You’re really good at this.”

He followed the treeline for miles until Cloudsdale was nothing but a cotton ball in the distance behind him. No other cities or settlements were in sight, not even a road skirting the edge of the forest. This was wild territory, fit only for beasts and winged society.

“All right, what the heck does a mulberry tree look like?” Razorwing asked himself.

Too high to notice tiny berries, Razorwing dove lower and peered over the tops of the trees. He stuck his wings out and froze in midair when he saw a strange movement among the leaves deeper into the forest. A stream of clear vapor was rising, disturbing his vision enough to take note.

“Bingo,” he said, and dropped into the trees. Spinning and darting around drunks and through branches, Razorwing was careful not to make much noise on his search for some kind of facility. Before long, a pungent, sweet smell hit his snout, and he followed the scent southward into the woods.

He landed on the ground and poked his head through a bush. Sprawled out between short, drooping trees, a series of bright yellow, igloo-like tents stood at random proximity in front of him. Each had plastic vents in their tops erupting invisible vapors that shook the air like a desert mirage.

“Hmm…” Razorwing looked around for signs of local attendants, but the site seemed to be empty. He squeezed the rest of his body through the bush and skittered over the ground to the nearest tent. He could hear mechanical whirring and the distinct sound of boiling liquid inside. The dirt in between each tent was marked with large, taloned footprints.

Very large.

“Wow,” said Razorwing, placing his hoof in the center of the massive, birdlike shape. It made his hoof look like a foal’s. “Girthy.”

“Not exactly the term I prefer,” a rich voice tremored behind him.

Razorwing turned around slowly and smiled up at the fearsome griffon behind him. “Ooh-ho-ho… you’re Falcon,” he said. “Yeah, that makes a lot of sense, actually.”

The great griffon’s face was very falcon-like indeed, albeit the size of Razorwing’s entire torso.

“I’m Razorwing,” he continued, sticking out his hoof for Falcon to shake. “Great to finally meet you. I’m sure you’ve heard of—oof!”

Falcon swatted Razorwing aside with the back of his claw. Like a doll, Razorwing tumbled into one of the tents. His wings cut up its fabric and the structure deflated onto a large, cylindrical vat, churning and bouncing at a steady rhythm.

“Cute machines you’ve got here,” Razorwing quipped, lying upside down. “Do they whistle? They look like they can whistle.”

“You’re a cheeky little thing, aren’t you?” asked Falcon, striding closer on disturbingly quiet feet. His posture was perfect, his movements regal. “Especially for a murderer.”

Midway through standing up, Razorwing froze. “What?”

“You said yourself that you’re sure I’ve heard of you, and you’re right. Razorwing, the armored pegasus with knives in place of feathers.” Falcon smirked. “Seeing you for myself, it’s clear that Olbeak was exaggerating.”

Razorwing couldn’t move, let alone speak.

“Olbeak, by the way, was the griffon you let drop from the sky some time ago. Or do you remember that many victims back?”

Shaking his head, Razorwing said, “I don’t have victims.”

“Olbeak is permanently paralyzed thanks to you,” said Falcon. “Did you know that? I’m sure he’d rather be dead, though he’d probably prefer a death nobler than Aether’s.”

A huge lump lodged in Razorwing’s throat. “No, I didn’t kill him. I didn’t mean to. It wasn’t my fault.”

“From what I’ve heard, little pony, it was entirely your fault.” Falcon suddenly lunged forward and swatted the top of Razorwing’s head. His helmet rang like a gong and his face dropped into the dirt.

“Aether was something of a friend of mine,” Falcon said with a haunting calmness in his voice. “I’m trying to decide how he would prefer to be avenged.” One of his huge talons wrapped around the back of Razorwing’s neck. He slowly lifted the pony close to his sharply curved beak. “Shall I gut you and leave you to rot in the woods? Should I break your wings and drop you into the streets of Canterlot from the edge of the atmosphere? Or should I leave you with a wisp of life, to tell your purple clad friend that there are still those who do not fear her?”

Razorwing lifted the blades along his wings and touched them against Falcon’s throat.

The great bird grinned. “Go ahead, little pony. Do it again. Rip my veins to shreds.”

Trembling, Razorwing dropped his wings limply at his sides and gazed down the length of his snout. He reached his hooves behind his back.

Falcon’s smile widened. “There is nothing weaker than a killer who cannot kill.”

Razorwing made eye contact. “What about a cutter who knows how to cut?”

He pulled the shard of crystal sap from his armor and lodged it into the talon around his neck. Falcon make a hollow gasp and released his grasp, giving Razorwing only a moment to escape. He flapped as fast as he could and rose above the Everfree Forest. Like a slingshot, Razorwing snapped off as fast as he had ever flown, putting miles between himself and the grove of mulberry trees before he dared look over his shoulder. Falcon hadn’t followed.

Razorwing rubbed his neck and sighed. “I’m not very good at this,” he choked.


(/\/\)


When the great old clock struck midnight, the streets of Trottingham were as empty and quiet as one could imagine, save for a single stallion standing under the chiming tower. Ornery Checker fidgeted, more from the cold than from nerves, and watched the streets around him with expectant eyes.

Finally, a pair of bright ponies, giggling to themselves, bound around a corner together and made their way toward Checker. From a different direction, another smiling pony appeared, hurrying toward the clocktower with a spring in his step.

From the rooftops above, Mare Do Well and Harness watched them group together as yet another pair of ponies skipped out of the shadows, glowing with delight. When all had gathered, five beaming ponies stood around Checker, clearly ecstatic to see each other. Though she strained to, Mare Do Well couldn’t hear what any of them were saying.

“We need to get closer,” she whispered to Harness.

He shook his head. “I can hear them just fine.”

Mare Do Well turned to him. “What? Really?”

“Shhh.” He held up a hoof. “They’re asking him for more of ‘the potion’. They say they’ve never felt so good in their lives.”

“They certainly look happy. Is the potion some kind of stimulant, you think?”

Harness was silent. “Look. He’s removing it from his coat and giving it to them now. With no exchange? No money?” Mare Do Well could hear the frown in his voice. “What’s his game?”

Checker gave each of the five ponies a tiny bottle of something green. They danced in place and shook with excitement, but waited until everypony had an open bottle in their hoof before gulping the stuff in unison.

Checker stepped back. The hair rose on Mare Do Well’s neck. Harness leaned forward, searching for some noticeable reaction among the consumers.

He did not have to search for long.

The five ponies began to twitch, wretch, and writhe. Their backs curved and their limbs twisted while strange noises, popping and crackling, burst from their bodies into the quiet night. Mare Do Well’s stomach dropped when the transformations ceased, and in the place of the five bright ponies were five, malformed, horrifying little things that could only be described as evil.

“There they are,” Harness breathed. “The monsters.”

Colorless, shrunken, but nevertheless grinning, the five looked over each other and cackled. The way they moved sent chills down Mare Do Well’s spine. She saw Checker say something to them, and they galloped back toward the center of town at speeds that did not match their shriveled frames.

“What did he do to them?” Mare Do Well asked.

“Let’s find out,” said Harness. He coiled his hind legs and leapt forward, soaring through the air and falling several stories to smash the ground in front of Checker.

The stallion yelped and flinched so badly his top hat fell off. A strangely blackened horn poked through his silver mane.

Mare Do Well pulled out her cloak and glided to another roof, staying out of sight but drawing close enough to hear them talk.

“What have you done, Checker?” Harness asked.

Checker quivered in the stallion’s shadow. “Please don’t hurt me! I-I’ll tell you everything!”

Harness took a mighty step forward. His stomp rattled the metal rings hanging about his body. “Be quick about it.”

“Please, there’s nothing we can do tonight, the process is already complete,” said Checker. He gulped. “Meet me at my home tomorrow a-and I’ll be more than happy to explain.”

With a massive white hoof, Harness grabbed Checker by the collar and scraped him up the brick base of the clocktower. Checker whimpered and stared down at the frightening hood over Harness’ face.

“What did you give them?” he asked.

“M-my potion!” Checker said. He wiggled and kicked pathetically in Harness’ grasp. “I-I-I’ve been studying the nature of ponykind, you see, and… oh, do put me down, I’ll explain!”

Harness dropped Checker into a slumping pile and stepped back. He lowered his head and waited.

Checker cleared his throat and tried to stabilize his breathing. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that things are changing in this country since the Princess of Friendship became the Princess of Dusk. Well, I’ve been fascinated by the sorts of behavior ponies have more openly expressed since the transition, particularly unicorns. It seemed to me that the darkening of Princess Sparkle revealed in ponykind a darker essence as well—the wicked half of a pony’s whole, I suppose, whereas only the righteous half had previously exhibited itself under Celestia’s reign. I began to wonder, what are these two halves of a single pony? What is the relationship between our dual natures?”

As Checker spoke and his confidence rose, Mare Do Well could sense a disturbing madness in his voice.

“I began to devise a way to separate these good and evil natures within a pony, to see if it was possible that one might communicate with and better understand each side individually. My experiments led to the potion: upon consumption, the user experiences a sharp divide of their personalities, and each subsequent dose shifts the user between his two settings. That is, once the potion has entered your system, one nature or the other takes hold of the reigns of the carriage that is your body, while its opposite rides dormant in the back, until another drink of the potion switches the effect, changing drivers, if you will.”

A smile broke out on Checker’s face as he continued. “Those dear ponies you just saw transform… why, they’re the happiest equines on the planet! During the day they are entirely good, denying no whim to help their neighbors and feeling no temptation to commit any selfish act or inflict harm! And then, during the night, they are free to obey the fleeting desires of a wicked mind, giving no thought to propriety or cultural discernment. At all times they are free beings, free of the guilt and dismay bred of misaligned desires and actions! They are truly, finally free!”

Harness brought a heavy hoof down on top of Checker’s head, and the ranting stallion flopped to the pavement.

Mare Do Well flew down from her perch and stood over Checker’s limp body. “Now what?” she asked Harness.

He sighed through his snout. “We round up the wicked,” he said.

Mare Do Well grinned beneath her mask. “Together?” she asked.

“Aye,” said Harness. “Together.”


(/\/\)


A domestic argument ended in a central district of Trottingham, and a disgruntled old mare stormed out of the apartment and huffed along the sidewalk. She ignored the darkness and coldness of the night, wondering to herself how she had managed to raise such a belligerent child.

From behind her, a shadowy figure rushed to her side and smiled in her face. She screamed at the horrible sight and tripped over her own tired hooves, falling to the ground and struggling like an overturned beetle. Two of the strange ponies stood over her, grinning, and began to kick her ribs—gently, at first, then more and more ferociously until she began to cry. They laughed at her pain and began to stomp their hooves all over her body. Her screams turned to whimpers, and the whimpers grew quieter…

Mare Do Well swept in from above, plowing into the shriveled monsters and knocking them away from the elderly mare. Harness galloped behind her, helping the mare to her hooves, and stood between the shaking elder and the scowling creatures.

“Go on, then,” Mare Do Well said. “I’d like to know what it’s like to fight half a pony.”

The creatures hissed and dove at her like wild animals. They thrashed and bit at Mare Do Well, but she parried their attacks with ease and knocked one out with a swift kick to the jaw.

“Oh, please!” she said. “I’ve wrestled timberwolves scarier than you!”

In truth, the evil ponies were terrifying. Everything about them felt wrong. Mare Do Well had to keep looking away in order to keep her wits about her. During one such moment, the creature jumped onto her back and gnawed on her shoulder. It quickly chewed through the fabric of her cape and costume, revealing her yellow coat beneath. Mare Do Well shouted and reached for her back, but the creature dodged and squirmed around unpredictably.

Harness leapt forward and scooped it up, standing on his hind legs. Mare Do Well delivered a few critical punches while it was trapped in Harness’ grip. He let go just as Mare Do Well turned around and bucked the creature in the belly, launching it into the air. Harness backflipped and kicked the airborne pony into the nearest wall. It crunched against the stone of the building and dropped like a sack of grain.

“Get her to the closest hospital,” Mare Do Well said, gesturing to the old mare. She helped her onto Harness’ back and he ran off at an amazing pace, the muscles in his shoulders and thighs rippling under his spotted white coat.

Mare Do Well felt a flurry in her stomach, but she ignored it. Quickly, she used a thin spool of wire in her utility belt to tie up the sleeping monsters and left them on a street corner.

“Three to go,” she whispered to herself, and rushed onward in search of the vile ponies.

She ran around for nearly half an hour without any luck, passing a few noticeable landmarks more than once. Angry at herself, she climbed a nearby building and scanned the city, but between the dark of night and the fog of Trottingham, Mare Do Well was at a loss.

“Shoot…” she said to herself. “Lyra? You there?”

There was no answer. Mare Do Well sighed and vaulted over the side of the building, sliding down a drain pipe. She pushed off the wall close to the ground and rolled into the middle of the road.

From above, a little voice said, “Wooow!” Mare Do Well looked up at a purple colt leaning halfway out of his window, eyes wide and sparkling. 

“‘Ow’d you do that, Miss?” he asked.

She tipped her hat. “Practice. Don’t try it, it’s very dangerous.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, Miss,” the colt called down in a loud whisper. “Why have you got that dark costume on? You’ve a lovely yellow coat, I see!”

Mare Do Well glanced at the hole in her shoulder and the sweaty yellow fur poking out of it. “Whoops. You’re not supposed to see that.” She made eye contact with him and held a hoof up to her mouth. “Promise to keep it a secret?”

The colt nodded, quick and serious. “As sure as the rain falls, Miss. I won’t tell a soul!”

“Good boy. Now go to bed. There are monsters out here tonight, but I’m going to take care of them.”

“And rightly so, Miss.” The boy grinned and closed his window.

“That was quite sweet,” said a voice behind Mare Do Well.

She spun around and readied herself to fight… only to see Harness leaning against the wall in an alleyway.

The huge stallion tossed his head to the left. “Shall we be off, then?”

“Did you get the mare to the hospital?”

“Safe and sound.” 

Harness left the alley and galloped down the street with Mare Do Well at his side.

“You’re different than I expected,” Harness said in a steady voice.

Mare Do Well grinned. “Glad to hear it. Is your power supernatural or are you just in great shape?”

“A bit of both.” Harness turned a corner. “It didn’t come naturally, but it was no freak accident, either. I’ve had to train it.”

“Whatever you’ve done, I’m glad you’re choosing to help this city rather than hurt it.”

Without slowing his pace, Harness turned his hidden face to Mare Do Well and said, “I’d never dream of doing otherwise.”

With Harness’ help, the other strange ponies were easy enough to track. He knew the city of Trottingham backwards and forwards. Though he was a stallion of few words, everything he said captured Mare Do Well’s attention. Even the way he described sections of the city, or took the time to point out a memorable landmark to help her find her bearings, fascinated Mare Do Well in a pleasant and unfamiliar way. Despite his size and brutish strength, he was so clearly kind and often gentle. 

Until they found another one of the monsters, of course.

Harness spotted it first, picking the lock of an old apartment building, and barreled toward it at remarkable speed, ramming into the shriveled body with a great, strapped shoulder. The creature tumbled backward and landed hard on the ground, and before it could rise to hits hooves Mare Do Well came down from a spinning kick and knocked it out cold.

“Two more?” asked Harness.

Mare Do Well used her wire again, tying the creature down to a grate in the gutter. “Two more,” she confirmed, and off they went again without a moment of celebration.


(/\/\)


The night passed quickly, and the first inklings of the Sun shone white through the city’s fog. The earliest rising citizens of Trottingham were simultaneously relieved and disgusted to find five revolting ponies throughout the central streets, bound, writhing, and hissing at passerby.

From a roof near the train station, Mare Do Well asked Harness, “Should we have gathered them in one place?”

He shook his head. “The bobbies will pick them up soon enough. I want the whole city to know it’s safe and under my protection.” He softened his voice and added, “Our protection.”

Mare Do Well smiled. “I’ll be leaving today, you know,” she said.

“Yes, but… now I know I can call on you if I ever need help. You’re very different than I expected. You care about the ponies here, down to the last foal. I am grateful that you came and showed me your earnestness.”

“I’m grateful that Trottingham is in such good hooves,” Mare Do Well said. “Can I count on your help if it’s needed in other cities as well?”

Harness stayed quiet for a moment. “Have you met Facetfire?”

Mare Do Well tilted her head. “Who?”

Harness nodded slowly. “As far as I know, there are five who have followed in your hoofsteps,” he said. “Razorwing in Cloudsdale, with whom you are well acquainted. Spritemare in Manehattan, you’ve also met. I myself have sworn to protect Trottingham, and I am pleased that you consider me a suitable steward. I’ve heard rumors of another in Baltimare, calling himself Synapse.” His voice took on a different tone. “Then there is Facetfire, in Phillydelphia. I traveled there to meet her, hoping to form some sort of alliance.”

Mare Do Well’s eyes widened. “You did? When?”

“Only a month ago, before you went to Manehattan. Hearing stories of you and Razorwing, I thought surely there would be much to gain from a partnership with Facetfire. I’m afraid I was quite wrong.”

“How do you mean?”

Harness shook his head. “I’ve said too much already. She left a bad taste in my mouth when it comes to trusting others like us. But I shouldn’t have judged you so quickly by the same standards. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Mare Do Well smiled again. “But thank you. I’m glad this worked out.”

Harness nodded thoughtfully. “You can call on me, Mare Do Well, whenever you need me.”

Mare Do Well felt her face flush and was grateful for her mask. “Good. Uh… s-same to you, of course.”

He readied himself to leave the rooftop, but briefly paused. “Go and see Facetfire for yourself. Perhaps you’ll have a better effect on her. She may need it.” With that, he leapt, and sped to some far corner of the waking city.

Watching him go, Mare Do Well sighed to herself and wondered when they might meet again.

> 18 - Able to Take Harsh
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ABLE TO TAKE HARSH


A massive M shone brilliantly against the clouds over Canterlot. Fancy Pants checked his pocket watch with an air of patience and offered a small smile to the night.

Razorwing arrived first. He swooped down and slid along the rooftop, shooting out four thin trails of sparks from his metal-clad hooves. He skid to stop next to the spotlight and bowed. “I’m at your service, Sir,” he said.

“Welcome, Razorwing,” said Fancy Pants. He glanced around. “Where is our caped crusader?”

“Here.”

Fancy Pants jumped and spun around where Mare Do Well stood still and silent. After clearing his throat and smoothing down his mane, Fancy Pants checked his pocket watch again and said, “Ninety seconds. Rather impressive, you two. Or perhaps it’s a slow night?”

Razorwing waved. “Hi, Mare Do Well. I didn’t know you were back in town.”

Fancy Pants raised his blue eyebrows at Mare Do Well. “Oh, have you been away?”

“I visited a friend in Trottingham,” she said.

“Ahhh, yes, the hero of the ancient city. What is it that he calls himself?”

“Harness,” she said, “and he deserves to be called Trottingham’s hero. An excellent protector for the ponies there. I can’t imagine better.”

Razorwing’s eyes narrowed behind his helmet.

“Excellent,” said Fancy Pants. “Between your success here and in Manehattan, it seems to me that the nation is warming up to its cities heroes. I can’t thank you two enough.”

“Did you need something from us?” Razorwing asked, tapping the spotlight.

“My sources have discovered an influx in the crystallized ‘sap’, as they call it, among dealers and users in the city,” said Fancy Pants. “They believe that its producers, members of a griffon’s gang—”

“Falcon,” Razorwing said.

“—have been recruiting stray members of the Mangled Marks and the Gonne into their folds. Now, both gangs have divided into several factions with their own leaders, but I have it on good authority that they won’t last long. Between poor leadership and violent rivalries, the Marks and Gonne will soon fade out of existence.”

“That sounds like an overall good thing,” Razorwing said.

Fancy Pants winced. “Well, yes, but… their dissolution only gives more power to Falcon. I’m not sure that I made myself clear: his influence is growing daily in Canterlot, and is already overwhelming in Cloudsdale.”

Razorwing paled. “Oh, shoot… that’s my fault. I’ve been paying a lot of attention to Canterlot and…”

Fancy Pants shook his head. “It is by no means your fault, dear Razorwing. You have done excellent work here in the capitol. Now it’s time to focus on a new threat.”

“We’ve already begun,” Mare Do Well said. “Razorwing, did you find where the drugs are being produced?”

“Uhh… yes,” Razorwing said, shuffling his hooves. “I met Falcon there, in fact.”

“Did you really?” Fancy Pants smiled. “Well, that’s excellent!”

“Ehhhh….” Fidgeting, Razorwing mumbled, “He almost strangled me so I stabbed him in the claw and ran away.”

“You went on your own?” Mare Do Well asked. “Why didn’t you ask Spritemare to help?”

“Well, I wasn’t planning on bringing down the whole operation solo style,” Razorwing said, rolling his eyes. “I was just scoping it out and Falcon snuck up on me.”

“Razorwing, now he’s onto us!” Mare Do Well shouted. “They’ll move the base and we’ll have to start from scratch to find them all over again!”

“Hey, whoa, what?” Razorwing took a step forward. “None of that would have happened if you had let me come to Trottingham with you. Maybe big handsome Harness is hiding something I would have noticed!”

Mare Do Well gawked. “I-I didn’t say anything about him being handsome. And besides, checking up on another hero isn’t a job for two ponies, unlike infiltrating a renowned drug lord’s primary factory!”

“It was just a bunch of tents, I didn’t know!” Razorwing shouted, tossing his hooves above his head. “Come on Mare Do Well, what’s wrong with you? I made a mistake, big deal, I’m sorry! Now let’s go do some sleuthing and find out where Falcon is together, right?”

“I have to go to Phillydelphia,” Mare Do Well said. “Harness told me about a mare called Facetfire that needs my supervision.”

“Okay, then let me come with you this time so I don’t mess everything up again,” Razorwing said.

“No. If Facetfire isn’t taking the job seriously, I don’t want your influence to encourage her.”

Razorwing gaped. “You… you don’t think I take this seriously?” he asked in a venemous tone.

“Prove me wrong,” Mare Do Well said. “Go get Spritemare and take down Falcon while I’m gone.”

“Who are you?” Razorwing asked.

Without another word, Mare Do Well ran to the edge and jumped off the roof.

Razorwing stared at Fancy Pants. “What the heck was that?”

Fancy Pants’ mouth was tightly pursed. He shook his head slightly. “I can only imagine the stresses of your lifestyles. Perhaps a bit of time apart is indeed the right approach.”

Razorwing offset his jaw and sighed. “Yeah, well, what do you know? How do I even know we can trust you?”

“I suppose you can’t,” Fancy Pants answered quickly. “I wish you the best of luck. By whatever means, Falcon must be stopped. He is a dangerous individual.”

Razorwing rubbed his neck. “Hmph… tell me about it.” He flew off with a knot in his stomach and an ache in his heart, searching the nearby streets in vain for Mare Do Well.


(/\/\)


“Thanks for the new costume, Sweetie Belle,” Apple Bloom said, tucking it into her travel bag. “At this rate you’ll need yer own Carousel Boutique with me as its only customer.”

Sweetie giggled. “I actually really enjoy it. Don’t tell Rarity, she’d never let me live it down.” She blushed a bit and looked away. “I, uh, made a few modifications to the outfit. I hope you don’t mind. Nothing compromising, of course, you’ll still look like Mare Do Well.”

Apple Bloom gave her a sour look and reached back into her bag.

Sweetie stuck out her hoof. “No! Don’t look at it now, just wait until you put it on. I promise you’ll like it.”

Without changing her expression, Apple Bloom left the bag alone.

“Can I just say,” said Sweetie Belle, “it’s kind of amazing that we’re friends?”

“Huh?” Apple Bloom blinked.

Sweetie Belle smiled. “Remember how, back in the Cutie Mark Crusaders Clubhouse, it would sometimes dawn on us that our sisters were real Equestrian heroes?” Her eyes glistened. “Most of the time we never thought about it, but every once in a while it hit us hard and we couldn’t believe how lucky we were to have such amazing ponies so close in our lives.”

“Oh, come on, Sweetie Belle,” Apple Bloom said, turning away with a suppressed smile.

“That’s you now, Apple Bloom,” Sweetie said. “Think of how far you’ve come. From a little filly in Ponyville pining for your Cutie Mark to the Hope of Harmony, the Protector of Ponykind, the Hero of Horses!”

“You made those up,” Apple Bloom mumbled.

“I’ve heard all of those and more around town,” Sweetie said. She jumped forward and hugged Apple Bloom from the side. “I know better than anypony that it’s not all Sunshine and roses for you, but I want to remind you how amazing you are. You’re doing something really special, Apple Bloom. So many ponies are inspired by you.”

Apple Bloom closed her eyes and sighed deeply. “Thanks, Sweetie. That’s nice to hear. To be honest, I’ve been extra stressed lately.” She picked up the purple hat, balancing it on the end of her hoof, and frowned. “Lyra and I fought. I got mad at Razorwing. I dunno, it’s startin’ to get to me, I think.”

Sweetie hugged her tighter. “Maybe you should take a break.”

“Maybe. But not right now.” Apple Bloom tucked the hat in her bag and zipped it shut. “First to Phillydelphia. I had a great experience in Trottingham. You should meet Harness one day. He’s really somethin’.”

Sweetie Belle winked. “Is he, now?”

“Oh, hush,” said Apple Bloom, but she felt her cheeks turn as red as her hair.


(/\/\)


Mare Do Well looked over the glowing city of Phillydelphia from the top of the towering Corncast building. The Delamare River sparkled with the yellow light of the city, and even from so high above she could see the many trees along its streets and around its borders.

It had been easy enough to access the top of the tower and change into her costume. Never had she glided from such a high post before, and her stomach churned while her muscles twitched in anticipation. Finally, she leapt, free-falling alongside the buildings’ thousand windows. With a slow, calm breath, Mare Do Well pulled open her new cloak and swished away from the skyscraper into a speeding glide.

The costume was indeed modified, as Sweetie had said. The colors were darker, the eyes of her mask shinier, and the edges of the her cape more rigid. She found it remarkably simple to turn her flight into a wide turn, surveying the city far below. She stole a glance at how tightly the suit hugged her body and immediately thought of Razorwing. Surprised, she shook the thought out of her mind and continued her slow spiral over Phillydelphia, watching for any sign of Facetfire.

“That was brave,” said a voice in Mare Do Well’s head.

She smiled to herself. “Hello, Unsung,” she said.

“Was I paying too much attention, or were you totally staring at Harness’ plot back in Trottingham?”

Mare Do Well gasped. “You were watching me?”

“Yup, the whole time.” There was a smile in Lyra’s voice. “I just didn’t say anything. I was grumpy.”

“Yeah… so was I.” Mare Do Well closed her cape briefly, then threw them open to catch the wind and regain a bit of altitude. “I’m sorry, Lyra. You were right, Applejack deserves to know that I’m all right. I just… I feel so far from home.”

“I understand, Bloom,” said Lyra. “I’m sorry I told her without asking you first. I knew I shouldn’t have and felt bad before I even said anything to you.”

Mare Do Well’s heart felt warm. “Thanks, Lyra. I’m glad you’re talking to me again. It gets lonely out here.” She paused. “Was I really staring at Harness like that?”

“Oh, girl.” Lyra laughed. “You had it so bad for him, it started to wear off on me, and I’ve got twenty years on the poor stallion.”

Mare Do Well laughed. “More than twenty, I reckon.”

“Hey, now, careful!”

“Then you saw me get fussy with Razorwing, too?” Mare Do Well asked. She was nearing the city’s lower rooftops.

“No! What happened?” Lyra asked.

Mare Do Well shook her head. “Never mind. I just blamed him for something that wasn’t his fault. I don’t know, I gotta get it together, Lyra. Startin’ to fall apart over here.”

“Starting to lose your growly voice, too,” said Lyra. “Careful, you’re getting close to the nightlife.”

“Thanks.” Mare Do Well swooped straight down and landed hard on a building near a long walkway by the river. Sure enough, several strolling ponies looked up in surprise, but none of them could see her in the shadows.

“I’m just here to find Facetfire,” Mare Do Well whispered. “Then I’ll take some time for myself and sort out my thoughts. I know I’m mad at Razorwing for no good reason. If I learned anything from Applejack, I should just be honest with him upfront and settle whatever weirdness there is between us sooner than later.”

“True,” said Lyra. “The sooner the better.”

“Right. But first, how to find Facetfire.”

“How did you find Harness?”

“I asked the locals at an inn,” Mare Do Well said. “Friendly bunch.”

“Head down there and ask one of them, then,” Lyra said as Mare Do Well peered down at Phillydelphia’s night owls headed for a trot by the river.

“They’re not going to know,” said Mare Do Well. “This city is gigantic. Trottingham was just old.”

“Might as well try,” Lyra said. “You might make somepony’s night.”

Remembering the little cold in Trottingham, Mare Do Well grinned and followed Lyra’s advice, flying down into the middle of the walkway.

A dozen ponies gasped and leaned away when she landed. A few fallen leaves swirled around her as her cloak settled. She turned dramatically to the stunned onlookers, already whispering among themselves.

“I have heard of a mare here that calls herself Facetfire,” Mare Do Well said loudly. “I would greatly like to meet her. Have any of you seen her?”

The ponies reacted immediately with smiles and affirmations.

“Yes, yes, I love Facetfire!” one young mare shouted.

“Oh my gosh, Facetfire and Mare Do Well teaming up right here in Phillydelphia?” voiced a loud stallion. “Dream come tru-uuue!”

“You two are going to look so cool together!” said another mare.

Lyra whispered in Mare Do Well’s mind, “Didn’t Harness say she was a bit of a hooffull?”

“Do you know where I might find her?” Mare Do Well asked.

Everypony in earshot pointed together toward the center of the city.

“She’s always in Flanklin Square!” the youngest mare said. “If you hurry, you can catch her before somepony asks for help!”

“What the…” Lyra said.

“Thank you.” Mare Do Well galloped past them toward the city.

“Did that strike you as weird or is it just me?” asked Lyra.

“Let’s not waste any time finding out,” said Mare Do Well, her cape billowing behind her racing hooves.

It did not take long to find Flanklin Square, a large park featuring a gated fountain, an old fashioned carousel, and enormous trees along a red brick path. Though the carousel had closed for the night, a crowd was gathered around it, several of whom carried flashing cameras.

“Facetfire! Look over here!” cried one of the photographers.

“Huh.” Lyra chuckled. “I get the feeling Facetfire takes a different approach to the hero business than you, Miss Mysterious.”

Quietly, Mare Do Well ran around the perimeter of the park and approached the carousel from behind. She vaulted its low fence with ease and climbed onto the dormant platform, then slunk between the plastic seats to get a better look at Facetfire.

Even with her flowy costume of white “flames” made of fabric, and the decorative, masquerade-like mask over the top half of her face, Facetfire’s true identity was immediately clear to Mare Do Well and Lyra. Her pink coat, blue eyes, and purple-and-white striped mane were all too familiar.

“Holy horseapples,” said Lyra, holding back laughter. “Is that—?”

“Diamond Tiara.” Mare Do Well gawked. “What the hay is she doing in Phillydelphia? Dressed like a flaming cupcake, no less.”

Lyra snorted between giggles. “This is absolutely ridiculous. I think we should leave.”

Mare Do Well shook her head. “No way. I have to know what’s going on here.”

Facetfire posed and smiled at the crowd of two dozen ponies in front of her. “Oh, precious citizens, fear not! I am here to restore the old ways of life to our beloved city and assure your collective safety!” With that, she shot a stream of brilliant fire straight into the air from her horn.

“Whoa-ho!” Lyra said, with similar reactions chiming among the audience. “Where did she learn to do that? Advanced pyromancy is super hard!” Mare Do Well heard Lyra flick her own horn. “Believe me, I’ve tried to learn a few tricks for concerts in the past. Not easy!”

“Hmm, yeah. It's especially impressive considering she's an earth pony."

Lyra made an exasperated sound. "What? How is she...?"

Mare Do Well. crouched, watching the way Facetfire twisted and smiled, more like a model than a sworn protector of Phillydelphia. “Some kind of fancy artifact, no doubt, like what the Spur had. Regardless of where she got the magic, what is she doing here?”

“The way the filly on the walkway made it sound, she’s here often,” said Lyra. “What did she mean about somepony asking for help?”

As if on cue, one stallion suddenly pushed through the crowd. His screams disrupted the merriment of the moment and all eyes turned to him, concerned.

“Facetfire, please, you have to help!” he bawled.

“Of course, dear citizen!” Facetfire said in a voice caked with concern. She rushed forward and stroked his cheek with a hoof. “How may I protect the natural born rights of every Phillydelphian this night?”

“Somepony’s trying to steal the Unity Bell!” he said.

The crowd gasped.

Facetfire puffed out her chest and cast her eyes over the group. “Never fear. Facetfire’s here!” She galloped off as the crowd cheered. Many followed behind her.

“Kinda dramatic,” Mare Do Well said under her breath.

“Well, so are you,” Lyra said. “Don’t be too quick to judge.”

Mare Do Well rolled her eyes and followed the ponies at a distance.

The legend of the Unity Bell was famous throughout Equestria. As one of the first cities built after the union of the three tribes, Phillydelphia was founded on the principles of friendship and harmony. The Unity Bell was built and placed in a tower of the Town Hall. Its powerful ring reminded the citizens of their victory over hatred, and would often result in spontaneous acts of goodwill between the earth ponies, pegasi, and unicorns that lived there.

The Bell stayed proudly in its post until Discord’s arrival. His magic, more obnoxious than destructive, turned much of Phillydelphia on its head. The Unity Bell, however, embedded with the magic of friendship, resisted the chaotic changes until Celestia and Luna put an end to Discord’s rule. When all was said and done, the magical stress on the Bell left a long crack in its side, but the iconic symbol remained intact.

Unfit to ring, it was placed in the center of town as a resounding symbol of ponykind’s resilience and their undying, all-conquering love for one another. Mare Do Well could almost hear Scootaloo gag at the thought.

By the time Facetfire and her followers reached the pedestal that displayed the Unity Bell, however, the symbol of pony goodness was gone.

“Oh no!” exclaimed the stallion that had brought the bad news. “They’ve already taken it! We’re doomed!”

The crowd, which had grown on its way to the crime scene, began to scream and run around the streets wildly.

Facetfire got their attention with a tall stream of fire. “Please, good citizens, stay calm! The perpetrators shall not get far with our beloved bell. Facetfire is on the case!”

In increasingly familiar tones, they cheered again.

“Okay, this is getting annoying,” Lyra said. “Get in there and help.”

Mare Do Well nodded and sprinted through the scattered crowd from her place in the shadows. A long, final leap landed her in front of Facetfire. Predictably, the audience gasped, and Facetfire’s face fell.

“M-Mare Do Well?” she stammered. “What are you doing here?”

“I stand for Unity as much as Harmony,” she said. “Let’s get that Bell back.”

Facetfire gulped. “Uhhh… y-yeah, definitely!” She leaned closer and whispered, “Follow me, quick.”

Mare Do Well narrowed her eyes, but nodded.

Facetfire took off at a full gallop. With Mare Do Well at her side, they outran the excited ponies trailing them and escaped into a series of alleyways. Mare Do Well didn’t stop until Facetfire skidded to a halt, listened for a moment, and then sighed an all-clear.

“What kind of show are you running here, exactly?” Mare Do Well asked.

Panic rose in Facetfire’s features. “Okay, don’t be mad, I already have everything planned out.” Her expression quickly changed into a curious smile. “But first, I have a few questions. Who are you under there?” She reached forward to pull off the dark mask.

Mare Do Well grabbed her hoof and pinned it to the ground. “There’s a reason you don’t know.”

“Oh, sorry!” Facetfire yanked away her hoof. “It’s just… I mean, I’m sure you know who I am,” she said, flipping her mane. “You’ve got to be from Ponyville, right? That’s where Mare Do Well started, so of course you recognize me.” She flashed a grin and waggled her eyebrows.

Mare Do Well sighed. “Yes, Diamond Tiara, I recognize you.”

Facetfire squealed. “Okay, so now your turn. Who are you? Or, wait, I’ll guess if you don’t want to tell me up front. Give me a hint. How old are you?”

“I’m not going to tell you who I am, and I’m surprised you’re so flippant with your identity,” Mare Do Well said. “But we can discuss that later. We might not have much time to track down whoever stole the Unity Bell.”

“Riiiight.” Facetfire smiled sheepishly. “About that… well, you don’t have to worry about it, basically. I know where it is.” She gasped. “Oh! But you can help me get it back if you want! I bet the ponies would love to see a team up.”

“Calling it now: she stole it herself,” said Lyra.

“Diamond Tiara… did you steal the Unity Bell?” asked Mare Do Well.

“No, of course not!” She bit her lip. “Well… not really. Since you won’t tell me who you are, I don’t know how well you know me, but something you should know is that I’m very good at getting other ponies to do what I want.” With a wily grin, she continued, “I infiltrated this little group of troublemakers and convinced them to steal the Unity Bell. I even told them where to take it so it would be ‘safe’. Ha! Now all we have to do is gather a big crowd and get it back, and the citizens of Phillydelphia will be delighted!”

Mare Do Well gaped at her. “Are you kidding me? You’re creating your own problems? Don’t you realize there’s enough crime happening in Equestria without you adding to it?”

Facetfire raised her hooves. “No, no, no, it’s not like that! Look… you’re the real hero here. That’s very obvious. But I figured out that all I have to do is foil a few elaborate schemes every week, and since nopony knows I’m behind them, the overall crime rate has dropped a lot because bad guys are scared of Facetfire!” She reached out a hoof. “And the only reason they’re scared of Facetfire is because Canterlot bad guys are scared of you.”

Mare Do Well looked down, her eyes twitching.

“Oh boy,” said Lyra. “Deep breaths, Bloom. It’s gonna be okay.”

“Harness was right,” Mare Do Well finally said. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“What? Harness? Pffft!” Facetfire rolled her eyes. “Mister Big’n’Quiet? Yeah, because it’s real heroic to tell me how to do my job.”

“Harness is protecting his city. You’re putting yours, and yourself, in great danger.”

“No I’m not!” Facetfire’s voice was strained. “Look, I can’t kick flank like you and Harness, okay? I don’t know how to sneak through shadows and beat ponies senseless. But this, what I’m doing?” She stood tall and looked down her muzzle at Mare Do Well. “I can give this to Phillydelphia. I moved here after school and fell in love with this city. I just want to do my part to make Equestria a better place, and even if my methods aren’t the same as yours, I’ve seen real progress here. I’m making a difference!”

Mare Do Well frowned. “I want nothing to do with this,” she said. “When your schemes are unearthed and Phillydelphia falls ill to evil, I’ll return to make it well.”

“What? No…” Facetfire slouched. Her eyes brimmed with tears. “No, don’t say that… I-I’m doing my best.”

“Perhaps it would be better if you did nothing at all.” With that, Mare Do Well spun around and scaled the nearest fire escape, vanishing above the building.

“Poor filly,” said Lyra. “That was kinda harsh, Bloom.”

“She should be able to take harsh,” said Mare Do Well. “She dished it out my entire foalhood.”


(/\/\)


“Wow… I’ve never stood on a cloud before,” said Spritemare. Timidly, she bounced her hooves on the fluffy surface. “This is amazing.”

Razorwing grinned. “What, there are no clouds in Manehattan?”

“There are so many buildings I hardly notice them.” Spritemare slammed her hooves down, sending tiny puffs of cloud shooting in all directions only to slowly drop back into the main mass. “It’s so amazing!”

“If you think this is cool, you should see Cloudsdale,” said Razorwing. He jumped off the tiny cloud and circled around it twice. “It’s a whole city made of clouds.”

“Wow… maybe I can visit before I go back home?”

“Sure!” Razorwing pointed down to the forest below. “Just as soon as we take care of the big, bad griffon and his hard drug factory.”

“What are we waiting for?” Spritemare asked. “Let’s get down there!”

Razorwing glanced at the setting Sun. “Let’s let it get a bit darker. If anyone’s still down there, it’d be better if we took a stealth approach.” He gulped and glanced at the blades on his wings, shining orange in the day’s late glow. “Rather than, you know, launching straight into an all-out fight.”

“Good idea,” said Spritemare, nodding. “Let’s head down once we can count a hundred stars.”

Razorwing raised an eyebrow. “That’s oddly specific.”

She put a hoof over her masked mouth and laughed. “Sorry. It’s an old zebra saying, I guess. The stars are sacred in many zebra tribes. Everything is about stars.”

“Wow. That’s really cool.” Razorwing looked up. “We say ‘Luna’s stars’ a lot, as a sort of exclamation, I guess. Sometimes I’ve wondered where that comes from. Like, I’ve heard ponies say by Luna’s stars, I’ll make sure this or that happens, like an oath. Maybe pegasi used to hold them sacred, too.”

“It makes sense,” said Spritemare. “Stars are beautiful.”

“Yeah.” Razorwing smiled and didn’t say much else as the Sun dipped under the horizon and the constellations came to life.

“That’s definitely more than a hundred,” Spritemare said quietly after a few minutes. She spread her wings and rose a few inches above the tiny cloud. “Let’s go.”

Razorwing saluted, rose up onto his hind hooves, and tipped over backward, diving silently into the woods. Spritemare beamed in secret and folded in her wings, following Razorwing through the branches.

Razorwing landed at the base of a giant tree and sniffed. Spritemare landed next to him.

“Do you smell that?” he asked in an excited whisper. “I smelled that last time I was here!”

Spritemare hesitated for a moment, but shrugged it off and reached for the bottom of her red mask, lifting it just above her nostrils to inhale deeply. Razorwing noticed, but didn’t say anything.

“Oh, yeah,” she said grimacing before pulling the mask back down to her neck. “That’s something chemical for sure.”

“Maybe they didn’t leave…” Razorwing peered through the trees. “I thought for sure we’d have to scour the forest for clues, but do you think maybe they never packed up in the first place?”

“Maybe. Doesn’t seem very smart to me,” Spritemare said.

Razorwing nodded. “Yeah, true. Let’s be careful. Look for big yellow tents.” He crouched low and took a step forward, pausing for just a moment to say over his shoulder, “You have a pretty mouth, by the way.”

Without waiting for a response, he snaked deeper into the Everfree Forest. Spritemare blushed and touched her mask before creeping in a different direction.

All too quickly, Falcon’s method of dealing with Razorwing’s discovery became clear. He did not pack up and run as Mare Do Well had imagined: instead, he had filled the premises with as many eyes as possible. Hulking griffons and burly ponies patrolled the forest all around the yellow tents, eyes peeled for pesky vigilantes. Razorwing was grateful they had waited until nightfall, wary of the way his armor glistened even in the starlight.

Spritemare and Razorwing stayed on the fringes of the site, sneaking around opposite sides of the perimeter and observing all they could until they met on the far end, deep into the forest.

“Did you see how many griffons he has in there?” Razorwing whispered. “I’ve never seen so many in one place!”

“There aren’t many griffons in Manehattan to begin with, let alone griffons so huge.” Spritemare gulped. “What do we do?”

Razorwing pushed his tongue into his cheek. “We have to scare them. How many yous can you make at a time?”

Spritemare winced. “I don’t know. It’s exhausting to make too many.”

“That’s fine, don’t worry,” said Razorwing, putting a hoof on her shoulder. “I’m not asking for a hundred, or any number, really. Just, how many can you make, comfortably?”

Spritemare wobbled her head from side to side. “Like… four? Maybe five.”

“Perfect!” Razorwing peeked over a bush at the yellow tents a stone’s throw away. “Okay, so here’s the plan… try making four, then fly in a group above the tents and get their attention. If you can, try grabbing something or slapping someone upside the head, I don’t know, just something so that they’ll follow you away from the tents.”

“Got it,” said Spritemare. “I’ll take them in different directions through the forest.”

“Exactly. Then I’ll come in and find Falcon, and…” He glanced at his wings and gulped. “And I’ll, uh… I’ll incapacitate him.” He nodded. “Yeah. I’ll just… get a wing or something.”

Spritemare leaned closer. “Razorwing? Are you okay?” she asked.

Razorwing nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Okay, no problem, let’s do this.” He crouched. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m ready.”

Spritemare didn’t move. “You know… I don’t know all the details, but I’ve heard about what happened in Canterlot.”

Razorwing glanced at her. “Huh?”

She sighed. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine… I’m sure it’s hard to deal with having… you know, killed somepony.” She brought a hoof to her face. “Er, sorry, that… that was insensitive. I’m just trying to say, I’m sure it’s hard, and… if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.” She slumped a bit. “You’re a good pony, Razorwing.”

A tiny smile pulled at Razorwing’s lips. “Wow… thanks, Spritemare.”

“It’s Abawe,” she said. “My name’s Abawe.”

His smile doubled. “I’m Silver Medal. Thanks for saying all that. Means a lot.”

She nodded, then vaulted over the nearest bush and buzzed toward the yellow tents. Five other copies of her approached the clearing from other shadows of the surrounding forest. They came together quickly above the center of the site and drew the gaze of every startled griffon and pony around.

To Razorwing’s surprise, Spritemare didn’t have to say a word before the onlookers shouted in fear and collapsed, kneeling to the six zebras hovering back to back.

“What the…” Razorwing said under his breath.

From one of the largest tents, Falcon emerged with an expression on his face no less than horrified. With a mighty flap of his wings, he bounded over several bowing griffons and landed near the Spritemares, offering a deep bow of his own.

“Good Zebras, I hate to disappoint you,” said Falcon. “I did not expect a visit so soon.”

Spritemare glanced at the bush where Razorwing hid. She saw his form shrug in the shadows.

“What is the meaning of this?” Spritemare asked loudly, adopting a thick accent similar to her Baba’s.

Without rising from his bow, Falcon swept an open claw to his right. “These are my most trusted friends. We had an unfortunate breach not long ago, and I thought it prudent to increase security despite your good king’s disapproval.”

Spritemare grinned under her mask, but maintained an authoritative tone. “Who are you to defy the requests of our King? Send them away at once!”

“Of course,” said Falcon. He turned around and barked, “Begone! Now!”

All of the ponies and most of the griffons took flight, hurrying back to their homes and far from the production site. Razorwing beamed as they vanished beyond the tops of the trees. Aside from Falcon, only three other griffons remained.

“You will, of course, allow these fine fellows to say,” said Falcon.

Spritemare ignored him. “Our King demands a report.”

Falcon cleared his throat and swallowed hard. “Production here is continuing flawlessly. Sales are… slower than we would like.”

“Unacceptable,” said Spritemare.

Falcon’s eyes filled with panic. “We are doing everything we can and have seen great success in Cloudsdale. Canterlot… is proving more difficult.” He scowled. “Which is primarily due to the meddling of an overzealous vigilante murdering our competition and terrifying our customers.”

“Is your product not sufficiently stimulating?”

Falcon’s brow furrowed. He was quiet for a moment. “Would that not be the fault of your contribution?” he asked.

“Excuse me?” asked Spritemare.

Rising slowly, Falcon stared at the Spritemares. “Who are you?”

“Servants of our King,” Spritemare answered quickly.

“And what is the name of your King?”

Spritemare froze.

Falcon turned to his companions and pointed at the group. “Kill them!”

The zebras dove into the forest in three different directions, and Falcon’s three cronies reacted immediately. While they gave chase, Falcon fumed and spun in place. “Where are you, little pony?” he shouted. “I know you’re there!”

Razorwing literally tore through one of the yellow tents, spilling a sizzling fluid onto the forest floor. “Whoops!” he said, shooting a dramatic grimace at Falcon. “You really ought to have more regulation around here. Thought about putting up some safety notices?”

“How did you know about the zebras?” Falcon shouted, lunging at Razorwing.

Darting to the left, Razorwing dodged Falcon’s heavy talons. With a gently twirl, he tore open the fabric of yet another tent, revealing racks of cooling trays filled with hardening crystal sap. “Well, lookie here! Is this the top notch production you were just talking about?”

“Get away from there!” Falcon cried.

Razorwing pulled his mouth into an O. “Where? Here?” he asked, stretching a wing toward the trays.

“No!” Falcon leapt at him with wings outstretched.

Razorwing scooped up a couple of the trays and threw them at Falcon. The griffon tried to avoid them, but they shattered against his beak and fell to the ground in pieces.

“You fool!” Falcon reached down and manically picked up the largest shards. “Do you have any idea how much every ounce of this is worth?”

Razorwing noticed a bandage around one of Falcon’s claws and smiled. “I have some idea, yeah. Do you know how much bringing down one of the last organized crime rings in central Equestria is worth?” He bucked the racks standing in the tent; sheets of sap crashed loudly and cascaded all over the tent. Razorwing sighed dreamily. “Priceless.”

“Raaaugh!” Falcon roared, a terrific noise somewhere between that of a lion and the screech of an eagle. 

Razorwing’s face fell and he darted away from Falcon’s vicious attacks. “Hey, whoa, yikes! Simmer down, big guy!”

“I’ll rip the meat from your puny bones!” screamed Falcon.

“Jeez, you griffons have a crazy temper!” Razorwing said. As Falcon leapt up to grab him out of the air, he dove down and slipped between Falcon’s hind legs, tapping a protruding ankle bone as he went.

Falcon screeched and grabbed his ankle in his claws. He soon went quiet, clearly surprised at the lack of blood, and glared at Razorwing.

The pegasus nonchalantly flew over the yellow tents, dipping his wing into their tops so that they fell open like banana peels. “He loves me… he loves me not,” he said after each noisy rip. “He loves me… he loves me not… he loves me…”

The open tents revealed humming machinery, striped barrels of fluid, and complex chemistry sets linking colorful liquids in beakers and glass tubes.

“Hey, what’s this?” Razorwing asked, tapping on the top of a striped barrel. “Hmmm… from the conversation you had with those zebras, I’m guessing this is some of kind of secret ingredient from the Zebrahara?”

Panic returned to Falcon’s face and he waved his claws about wildly. “No, not those! Please, you don’t understand, it’s extremely dangerous!”

“So you bake it and sell it to ponies for profit?” Razorwing snorted. “Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.”

“Please, there is more going on here than you realize,” said Falcon. His voice was low, serious, and quavering. “Please, back away from there.”

Razorwing put a hoof to his chin. “Uhhhh… hmmmmm… no.” He looped a quick backflip and ran the blade of his wing along the middle of several striped barrels.

“No!” Falcon screamed, shielding his face with his claws.

A sharp smelling substance spewed out of the cuts, spraying far enough to mix with the beakers and vials. Razorwing watched a trail of fire rush back along the fumes toward the barrels and realized too late his mistake. He flew as fast as he could toward Falcon and tried to tackle the massive griffon into the forest beyond.

The barrels exploded in a thunderous display of blazing white fire, laying waste to the production site and its grove of mulberry trees. 


(/\/\)


Spritemare hid among the thick branches of an enormous tree and watched the griffons below scramble after doppelgangers she made appear and disappear in impossible places. She couldn’t help but giggle as they began to swear and scream at each other, desperately poking their heads behind every trunk in sight.

Her laughter halted in a gasp when the edge of the forest burst into flame. A ball of fire bubbled up and momentarily engulfed the trees, leaving behind a dozen burning treetops and smoldering wood.

The griffons flinched at the boom and looked at each other. Without a word, they completely abandoned their search for the zebras and flew off like frightened sparrows.

“Razorwing...” Spritemare said under her breath. She shot out of the tree and flew faster than she’d ever moved to the site of the explosion.

The tents were reduced to bubbling yellow plastic. Crisp leaves littered the ground among broken glass and frothy poisons. Spritemare darted all over the clearing in search for Razorwing, but the night was dark and his armor plated body was nowhere to be seen.

“Razorwing!” Spritemare shouted. “Where are you?”

She turned around and gasped at what was once the intimidating frame of Falcon, crumpled face down in the dirt, covered in ashen feathers and roasted flesh. His wide back and limp wings were scorched, blackened along with the wilted trees around his body. Spritemare covered her masked mouth with her hooves and gagged, unable to tear her eyes away.

Blood was pooling in the dirt under Falcon’s body. Spritemare narrowed her eyes. “Blood?” she said to herself.

After quickly forming a copy of herself, Spritemare and her doppelganger tucked their hooves beneath the giant griffon and flipped his body over, revealing a still and unconscious Razorwing pressed into the dirt. His armor and fur were slightly singed, but it seemed as though he had avoided most of the blast.

“Oh my gosh!” Spritemare’s double disappeared and she carefully pushed his bladed wings aside, gently running her hooves over his body to check for misaligned joints or broken bones. “Razorwing, can you hear me? You’re not breathing…”

Spritemare glanced at Falcon, lying motionless, and cast her eyes around the clearing. Seeing no one, she pulled off her mask and cast it aside, leaning close to Razorwing and examining his helmet. After undoing a few latches, she gently pulled it out of the dirt and away from his head. Tilting his head back in her hooves, she placed her lips over his and blew in a lungfull of air.

Her wings pulsed in time with her hooves when she pressed hard on the tight breastplate over Razorwing’s heart. After leaning in to give him more air, she repeated the process, staring at his expressionless face as she pushed on his chest.

“Come on, Razorwing! Breathe!” she said, bending down to breathe into his mouth once more. 

His eyes flew open halfway through the breath and he dropped his jaw, sucking in a deep, cold breath around her mouth. Spritemare jumped back as Razorwing coughed, rolling to one side and twitching his wings into a more natural position. He breathed hard and put a hoof on his own chest while lying on his side facing away from Falcon.

“Are you okay?” asked Spritemare.

Razorwing grinned and looked at her. “You have a pretty mouth,” he said in a rough voice, coughing hard immediately.

Spritemare laughed and shook her head. “I like the color of your mane,” she said.

“Huh?” He stood up slowly and reached for his head, touching his ear with the armor around his hoof. “Oh. Well, that makes sense I guess,” he said, looking around for his helmet. “It’s probably a mess. Helmet hair, you know?”

Spritemare giggled at the tufts of his mane poking in random directions. “Mine only covers my face,” she said, shaking out the long, skinny braids draped around her neck.

Razorwing looked at her for a long time. “Huh… I thought your eyes would be blue,” he said with a smirk. “Because of your mask, I guess.”

She picked up the red and blue mask and brushed off some blackened dirt. “Nope. Brown as can be.”

“Ehh, blue eyes aren’t all they’re cracked up to be,” said Silver Medal, crossing his own. His smile softened. “Thanks for doing that,” he said, rubbing the metal over his chest. “I know I’m a goofball, but… I realize how serious that was. Thank you.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” said Spritemare. Her eyes shifted to Falcon. “Unlike…”

Razorwing noticed Falcon’s body for the first time. “Whoa!” he said, jumping back. “Oohhh, gross!” He dropped to his haunches and dropped his face in his hooves. “Sweet Celestia… I did it again.”

Spritemare trotted to his side. “What do you mean?”

“I just… I don’t realize how dangerous I am,” he said. “I just do stuff I think is funny or cool and it ends up killing. Gah!” He smacked his own forehead several times.

Spritemare reached out and grabbed his elbow. “Hey, stop that. It’s not your fault.”

“I cut the barrels that blew everything up!” Razorwing shouted. He pointed at Falcon. “He even told me to stop, but I—”

“Oh, do shut up,” croaked Falcon.

Razorwing and Spritemare both screamed and backed away quickly.

Falcon slowly opened one eye and growled. “You’re so pathetic, little pony. So eager to save the world, but terrified of the repercussions.”

“Razorwing, what should we do?” Spritemare asked. “He’s seen our faces!”

Falcon laughed, a course and hollow sound. “Hhha hha! You won’t have to worry about me, zebra. I’ll be dead before these fires go out.” He rattled out a cough and closed his open eye. “Tell me, though, before I die: how did you know I was working with zebras?”

“We didn’t,” said Spritemare. “We just got lucky.”

“Hmmm.” Falcon sighed. He looked completely at ease. “Perhaps you’re meant to save this world. Perhaps it was just dumb luck.” He turned his head and looked Razorwing in the eye. “King Zimbaya is a ruthless clan leader in the northern Zebrahara. He is a powerful warlock and will not be brought down easily.”

Razorwing gulped and stepped closer to Falcon.

“He plans to overtake Equestria in its current weakened state. He’s headed for Ponyville now through Ghastly Gorge. I was supposed to infiltrate the capitol with this drug to weaken its citizens and make many of them reliant to encourage a peaceful takeover. Now? I fear he will destroy this land. Zimbaya is… very angry.”

“Why?” asked Spritemare. “I’ve never even heard of him. What does he want with Equestria?”

Falcon shook his head. “Power? Perhaps revenge. He is… very angry.”

Razorwing blinked several times. “I don’t understand. A zebra warlock headed for Ponyville? Why are you telling us this? What are we supposed to do about it?”

Falcon was silent. Razorwing and Spritemare looked at each other.

“I think we should find Mare Do Well,” said Spritemare.

Wide-eyed, Razorwing nodded. “Now.”

> 19 - Moving the Stars
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


CHAPTER NINETEEN
MOVING THE STARS


The Mare Do Well signal was shining when Apple Bloom arrived in Canterlot at six in the morning. Lyra noticed it first.

“Hey, check it out, Bloom,” she said. “You’re already needed.”

Apple Bloom’s bleary eyes focused on the rising spotlight as the train pulled into the station. It was barely visible in the first rays of dawn. She sighed and dropped her head against the window. “I can’t leave this city for one dang night,” she said.

Lyra laughed. “Go easy on Razorwing when you see him, okay? Poor kid. He really likes you.”

“I’m aware.” She reached up and grabbed the top of her hat. “I’ll be right back.”

“And I’ll be waiting,” said Lyra.

She pulled off the hat, tucked it into her bag, and hurried past a few sleepy passengers to the back of the train. Within minutes, Apple Bloom became Mare Do Well in the empty caboose, and she climbed on top of the train to reach the station’s roof.

“Maybe somepony forgot to turn it off,” said Lyra.

“Doesn’t look like it,” said Mare Do Well. On the far side of the flat roof, where the spotlight shone, Razorwing and Spritemare were perched on the edge, facing away from the tracks. Both of the them were craning their necks, watching the city in search of the Hope of Harmony.

“Oh, this is perfect,” said Lyra as Mare Do Well snuck up behind them. She used a metal lever to shut off the spotlight with a loud clang. Razorwing and Spritemare spun around, startled.

“Long night?” she asked.

Lyra giggled. “You’re getting better at one liners.” 

Immediately worried by their wild eyes, Mare Do Well tried to listen closely as Razorwing and Spritemare scrambled toward her, both shouting at once.

“Falcon’s dead! There was an explosion—”

“—all my fault, I didn’t listen to—”

“—working with a zebra king, a clan leader, who—”

“—wants to take over Equestria, starting with—”

“—Ponyville!”

“—Ponyville!”

“Ponyville?” Lyra asked. “Apple Bloom, what’s going on?”

Mare Do Well held up a hoof and looked directly at Razorwing. “What happened?” she asked. She noticed black smudges on his armor.

His face was pale behind his helmet. “Falcon hadn’t relocated, just brought in more recruits. But they’d been working with a zebra clan and were terrified by Spritemare’s clones, so most of them left. Then I accidentally mixed some chemicals and blew up half the forest and Falcon died, but he told us that the zebra king is a warlock headed for Ponyville bent on taking over Equestria.”

Spritemare just nodded.

Mare Do Well thought hard. “A zebra warlock? What does that mean?” She turned to Spritemare.

“I don’t really know,” she said. “We have old stories of powerful zebras who could move the stars and dry up lakes, but they’re just legends.” She stomped a hoof. “I wish Baba was here—my grandpa. He knows so much about zebra history.”

“Why were they working together?” asked Mare Do Well.

“Why Ponyville?” Lyra asked, and Mare Do Well repeated it.

“I really don’t know,” Razorwing said. “I’m sorry, Mare Do Well, I-I didn’t know what to do, I was just trying to stop Falcon.”

Mare Do Well held in a sigh and put her hoof on Razorwing’s plated shoulder. “It’s all right, Razorwing,” she said. “We’ll figure this out.”

He smiled, and she could feel his shoulder relax under her touch. She pulled away and looked at the glowing horizon.

“Where is this zebra king? The Zebrahara?” she asked as day broke.

“Falcon said he was headed for Ponyville,” said Razorwing. “Through Ghastly Gorge.”

Lyra gasped.

“When?” Mare Do Well’s voice cracked. “Now?”

“That’s what it sounded like to me,” said Spritemare. “He made it seem like the plan was to get ponies addicted to the crystal sap in Canterlot so that they’d accept the king when he gets here, but… I guess you two stopped that from happening.”

Mare Do Well narrowed her eyes. “But he’s still coming?”

Spritemare nodded. “Falcon kept saying that he’s angry. And that maybe he wants revenge.”

“Revenge on who?” Mare Do Well asked. “Why?”

“We were hoping maybe you knew,” Razorwing said timidly. “Aren’t you from Ponyville?”

Mare Do Well’s head snapped toward him. “How did you know that?”

He smirked. “Uh, you know my sister?”

She relaxed. “Right. Wait a moment.” She turned away from them and whispered to Lyra, “Can you get a pegasus to scout the Gorge as soon as possible?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll go right now,” Lyra said. “It’s fine, they probably just misunderstood something.”

“Let’s hope so,” said Mare Do Well, and looked over her shoulder at Razorwing. “If it comes to it, how fast can you fly to Trottingham?” she asked him.

Razorwing clenched his jaw. “I bet I could get there in two hours if I didn’t stop.”

She nodded and asked Spritemare, “Do you think you could fly to Baltimare?”

Spritemare grimaced, but nodded. “It would take me longer than that, but I can go faster than the train.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” said Mare Do Well, “but if Ponyville is attacked by a warlock that can move the stars, we’ll need all the help we can get.”


(/\/\)


Lyra rammed through her front door and stumbled into the bright morning light of Ponyville. At full speed, she galloped to the market where only the earliest risers were setting up shop. Above them, Scootaloo lazily kicked a few stray clouds into oblivion.

“Scootaloo!” Lyra shrieked. It drew everypony’s attention, including the startled weatherpony.

“Huh?” She looked down and offered a nervous wave. “Oh, hiya Miss Heartstrings! Uh… need something?”

“Get down here!”

Scootaloo dove and hovered in front of Lyra, adopting a similarly panicked expression. “What is it?” she asked.

“Will you hurry over to Ghastly Gorge and… just make sure everything’s all right?” Lyra asked. She glanced around and gulped. “Er, y’know, just… normal?”

Scootaloo’s brow furrowed. “Uh… sure. Anything specifically un-normal I should be looking for?”

“Just go!” Lyra shouted.

Scootaloo made a “Wuyuhh!” noise before taking off in a streak of orange and violet.

Lyra’s breathing was heavy from sprinting. Some of the gentlest onlookers approached to ask if she was all right. She nodded and thanked them with small, forced smiles, and sat on her haunches while they returned to their burgeoning booths.

Somepony tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around to see Applejack, harnessed to her apple cart, sweating above wide eyes.

“What happened?” she asked in a whisper.

Lyra grimaced. “Uh… nothing yet, but… there may or may not be an evil zebra warlock headed for Ponyville intent on national takeover.”

Applejack stared into her eyes for a long moment. In a fluid motion, she unhitched herself from the apple cart, let it drop, and left it in the middle of the street as she galloped out of sight. 

Lyra’s forehead creased. “Where are you going?” she shouted, but Applejack was already gone.

“Ooohhhh…” Lyra pattered her front hooves. “Come on Scootaloo! Rainbow Dash would have been back by now…”

Lyra heard her before she saw her. Scootaloo was yelling at the top of her voice, circling over the entire city. “An army of zebras!” she was shouting. “Wake up, everypony! We need to get out of here! There’s an army of zebras coming right now!”

Ponyvilleans screamed all across town. Upper windows, opened by bleary, curious ponies, caught the news into more and more homes. Lyra watched in horror as panic rippled from street to street. Doors to homes flew open as families gathered, murmuring among themselves in worried, skeptical tones.

Scootaloo landed hard in front of Lyra. “There’s an army of zebras coming out of the Gorge!” she said. “How did you know?”

“Mnnyyeh-magic!” bumbled Lyra, shaking. “Okay, okay, uhhh… we need to get everypony out of here. Evacuate!” She shouted at the gathering ponies. “Evacuate as fast as you can! Tell everypony! We need to get out of here!”

She wasn’t exactly sure why she was so scared. She hadn’t seen the “army” herself, she knew nothing about zebra warlocks, and the only adjective she had for their king was “angry”. Nevertheless, her fear spread like an electric virus, and soon the entire town was grabbing valuables from their homes and running for escape in every direction.

“We need to go north!” Scootaloo yelled. “It’s safest up there. Everypony, run to the hills!”

A cacophony of screams rose among the citizens of Ponyville as they oriented north, stampeding through the streets in packs of friends and family, some stopping to pound on the doors of their sleeping neighbors.

“Applejack…” Lyra said under her breath. She looked up at Scootaloo and shouted, “Make sure everypony stays together!” 

Scootaloo nodded and found a group of pegasi to help her. Filled with adrenaline, Lyra’s legs carried her toward Sweet Apple Acres.

Somewhere on the long path between the edge of Ponyville and the farmhouse, Lyra started yelling, “Applejack! Applejack, you have to come with us! We need to—” Her words ended in a gasp when a long line of zebras, wearing colorful wooden masks and touting spears, stepped out of the woods to her right. She skidded to a stop, gaping at the invaders.

“What do you want?” she shouted at them. When they didn’t answer, her eyes flitted to the distant barn where a hundred more zebras poured out from the woods. Rather than spears, a good number of them carried torches. Lyra felt as though somepony had knocked the wind out of her when Sweet Apple Acres’ red barn and longstanding farmhouse caught fire.

“No!” she shrieked, sprinting forward. The nearby zebras formed a half circle in front of her, thrusting out their spears. She yelped and backed away, watching over their heads as the barn went up in flames. “No, no, no! What are you doing!?”

The zebras marched toward her, jabbing their spears menacingly. Lyra turned around and trotted back to Ponyville. “All right, I get it! It’s fruitless, though, everypony’s already gone!” She stole a final look at the burning farmhouse and gulped, following the trail with the zebras escorting close behind.

Lyra reentered Ponyville horrified. Hundreds and hundreds of masked zebras, perhaps even thousands, lined the streets and stormed through homes, throwing furniture from windows and trampling small gardens. Worst of all, they had herded all the citizens of Ponyville back into the city. Lyra escaped her escorts in the chaos and found a gaggle of familiar faces cowering near their bakery.

“Mrs. Cake!” she shouted over the noise. “What happened?”

“They were everywhere!” she shouted. “All around the city!”

“I’m scared, Mom!” said Pumpkin Cake, pressed against her mother’s side.

“Where’s Scootaloo?” asked Lyra.

Pound Cake pointed. “She and the other pegasi are fighting at the north edge of town! Mom won’t let me go with them…”

“You stay here, Pound!” Mrs. Cake yelled.

Lyra ran off before she heard more of the argument. Above some buildings she could see pegasi rising and diving. As soon as she rounded a corner and saw the battle for herself, a peculiar cloud of darkness stretched upward, dividing into dozens of smoky tendrils that spiraled around pegasi and tightened like rope. Lyra heard Scootaloo shout in pain before she dropped to the ground with all the others, struggling to break out of the shadowy coils.

A tall, muscular zebra with a long mask stepped forward. The mask’s upper lip was curled in a scowl, its mouth open far taller than was possible, and its cheeks were decorated with bright green spirals. In his right hoof, the zebra held a dark, gnarled staff topped with a glass ball filled with swirling, green smoke. The staff was thick, comprised of three intertwining, wood-like vines. The smoky tendrils around every grounded pegasus originated from the glowing ball at the end of the staff.

In a moment of otherworldly clarity, Lyra channelled magic through her horn. Time seemed to slow around her as she went into a trance. Her eyes glowed with a golden light and she said one word aloud: “Help.”

Exhausted, Lyra collapsed, joining the pegasi on the ground. The large zebra said something in his own language, and dozens of zebras reacted to his command, scooping the pegasi and Lyra onto their backs and carrying them into the center of the city.


(/\/\)


The vision took Mare Do Well’s breath away. She tilted back her head and froze, overcome by sensations that were not her own. Through Lyra’s eyes, she watched the warlock wrap Ponyville’s valliant pegasi in shadowy cords and heard her quiet plea.

“Help,” rang Lyra’s voice, and the image of Ponyville melted to the dawn of Canterlot.

“Oh my gosh,” said Mare Do Well.

“Are you okay?” asked Spritemare.

“What happened?” asked Razorwing.

Mare Do Well panted as her own vision returned. “He’s already there,” she said. “I just saw Ponyville. It’s overrun by zebras with spears. The warlock is there. He has some kind of magic staff.”

Spritemare raised a foreleg. “No… that’s impossible. I-I’ve heard of staffs cut from the wood of ancient trees in the Zebrahara, but… it’s stuff for bedtime stories.”

Mare Do Well breathed through her nose. “I’m sorry to ask this of you two, but I need you to find Harness and the one called Synapse as fast as you can. Get them to Ponyville. I’ll find a way for myself and meet you there. We don’t have much time.”

“I gotta get me a hat like yours,” said Razorwing before he took off for Trottingham.

“Good luck, Mare Do Well,” Spritemare said, flying along the train tracks in Baltimare’s direction.

Mare Do Well felt dizzy. Whether it was a side effect of the vision or the shock of seeing Ponyville under attack, she didn’t know. As the Sun climbed away from the horizon, she made her way from rooftop to rooftop back to Sweetie Belle’s apartment.

Sweetie had just stepped into the street, ready to trot to an early morning rehearsal, when she heard her name from above. “Sweetie Belle!”

Mare Do Well jumped off a nearby building and glided on her cape toward Sweetie. Her dark costume stuck out like a sore hoof in the brightening daylight.

Sweetie almost called Mare Do Well by her real name. “Aaaaaaaa-ctual superhero, Mare Do Well! Wow, what a surprise!” she said very loudly. The few other ponies in the streets gasped and pointed as Mare Do Well swooped down to land in front of Sweetie.

“What is it?” Sweetie asked through a clenched smile. “I need to get to rehearsal.”

“Ponyville’s under attack,” Mare Do Well whispered. “I need the Wishing Well.”

Sweetie’s face immediately hardened. “Come with me,” she said in a serious tone. They galloped past enraptured ponies, one of whom snapped a picture with a camera around his neck.

“Do you need to break that or something?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“It doesn’t matter now,” said Mare Do Well. “Everypony we love is in danger.”

Minutes later they arrived at the studio where Sweetie Belle recorded. Sweetie rapped at its locked door until somepony opened it.

“Miss Belle?” said a young mare with too much makeup. “What are you doing here?”

“Move!” said Sweetie, barreling past her into the entrance hallway. Mare Do Well followed, drawing a squeal from the young mare that was somewhere between delight and terror.

Sweetie Belle poked her front half into an office and grabbed a key from the wall in her magic. “Sweetie Belle?” a stallion asked, but she didn’t answer, running further down the hall with Mare Do Well on her tail.

They clattered into a room at the end of the hallway, interrupting a small band’s recording session.

“Hey, what’s the idea?” asked the pianist. His jaw dropped when Mare Do Well entered behind Sweetie.

“Everypony out!” shouted Sweetie Belle. “NOW!”

The musicians and technicians obeyed, keeping close to the walls so not to bump into Mare Do Well, though none of their eyes could tear away from her.

Once they had left, Sweetie Belle shut the door and ran to the drumset. She tossed all its components aside with her magic and pulled away a large rug, revealing a trap door which opened with the key. “The Wishing Well’s down there,” she said, pointing to a long staircase the trapdoor revealed. “This studio was used a long time ago in smuggling rings. There’s a tunnel that opens out the side of the mountain down there.”

“How did you—”

Sweetie Belle put a hoof over Mare Do Well’s mask. “Took a long time,” she answered. “Now go save Ponyville!”

Mare Do Well sighed. “Thank you, Sweetie.” She looked over her shoulder at the door to the hallway. “Good luck sorting all this out.”

Sweetie hugged her around the neck. “I’m so proud of you, Apple Bloom,” she whispered. “Come back soon and explain what’s going on, okay?”

Mare Do Well hugged her back. “I will,” she said, then ducked into the hidden staircase and descended deep into the city’s mountainous foundations. Sweetie Belle closed the trapdoor above her, plunging Mare Do Well in darkness. She reached into her utility belt and smacked a clear gem against the narrow stone walls of the tunnel, lighting the downward path before her.

The Wishing Well, painted purple and black, waited in a cavern at the bottom of the stairs. Mare Do Well jumped in its only seat and cranked its pedals with her hind hooves, wrapping her front two around the machine’s levers. The propellor above her creaked into motion, reminding her how long it had been since she had flown the contraption.

“Let’s hope Scootaloo built you to last,” she said to the machine. After a gulp, she added, “Not to mention Pinkie Pie.”

The Wishing Well rose a foot off the ground. Mare Do Well steered it through a wide, winding tube of chiseled stone for what felt like several minutes. Suddenly, a pinprick of light appeared… and grew like a party balloon. Mare Do Well hadn’t realized how fast she was going until she cannonballed out of a hole in Canterlot Mountain.

Momentarily blinded by the rising Sun, Mare Do Well leaned in her seat and aimed the Wishing Well for Ponyville. She could already see it from her altitude, albeit as a few specks of yellow thatch roofs at the edge of the Everfree Forest, and pumped her hind legs in an effort to close the gap between her and her beloved hometown.

The black blades above her spun silently, and if it had been night she would have gone unnoticed. As it was, her dark little craft was a blotch against the sky, and—since she was flying in a straight line for Ponyville—she became a truly unmissable target. Mare Do Well didn’t notice the spiral of dark magic until it was nearly upon her, and her attempt to dodge the snakelike projectile resulted in its collision with the blades overhead.

The darkness wrapped itself into the center of the propellor and stopped it completely. Mare Do Well’s hind hooves jolted painfully against the jammed pedals, and the Wishing Well began to fall.

Mare Do Well reached up and tried to tear away the strange, smoke-like cords tangled in the blades. They were impossible to touch, though clearly tangible enough to ruin her flight. She pushed hard to crank the pedals and jerked the levers back and forth, but the machine continued to fall, tumbling forwards and sideways through the air.

“Horseapples!” Mare Do Well shouted. With a high pitched growl, she abandoned the Wishing Well and stretched out her cape, watching the machine plummet without her and break apart at the foot of a hill below.

“Shoot,” she said under her breath. Ponyville was still miles away. She tried to maintain speed and altitude, but her cape could only do so much. As the ground drew closer, Mare Do Well spotted something else coming at her, but rather than a black spiral projecting from Ponyville, it looked very much like a comet hurtling at her from space.

“Aaaahh!” Mare Do Well screamed and pulled in her cape, crossing her forehooves over her chest to dodge roll through the air. Were the legends of warlocks moving the stars true? Could King Zimbaya command space itself to attack her?

Mare Do Well plunged for the ground, throwing open her cape just in time to cut through the air, backflip, and land safely among a small grove of trees. She looked up at the comet: its glowing trail had curved, and it was still following her.

She ran deeper into the grove, hoping that the trees might protect her, but what was a tree against a burning space rock?

“Lyra!” she shouted. The rumbling, crackling sound of the comet loudened behind her. “Lyra, help me! What do I do?”

Mare Do Well dropped to her belly and covered her head with her hooves as the comet slammed into the ground only a few feet to her left. The rumbling sound stopped instantly, replaced by an annoyingly familiar voice.

“Mare Do Well, are you okay!?”

Mare Do Well’s head popped up. “Diamond Tiara?”

The pink pony stood in a smoldering hole between two trees. Her white costume flowed around her like licks of white flame… because, as Mare Do Well slowly noticed, they were licks of white flame. 

“What the…” Mare Do Well choked.

“I saw your flying thing go down,” said Facetfire, “and I came to help. Are you okay?”

Mare Do Well’s eyes followed the long trail of smoke in the sky that led to where Facetfire stood. “How did you do that?” she asked.

“I told you in Phillydelphia,” Facetfire answered, “I’m not a fighter, but I have something to give to Equestria.” 

Shaking her head, Mare Do Well said, “No, I mean… you’re an earth pony. Where did that horn come from?”

Facetfire offered a weak smile. “Oh… uh, actually.” She removed the flimsy white mask from her face, and the horn came with it. “It’s synthetic. I spent every last bit I had to get it commissioned by some cutting edge scientists I met in Phillydelphia. Apparently it’s based on research by Princess Sparkle herself on the science of magic, while she lived in Ponyville.”

Mare Do Well eyed the mask warily. “That… seems very dangerous.”

“Well, they haven’t made many. Each horn can only do one spell,” Facetfire continued. “I chose pyromancy. And it’s crazy expensive, but… after I moved to Phillydelphia and decided to become a politician, I saw how corrupt things had gotten, and… and then you started changing Canterlot.” Facetfire smiled and shrugged. “I spent all my money and dedicated all my time to honing the skill this horn gives me. I want to make Phillydelphia a better place.” She replaced the mask; the horn flashed and the flames on her costume surged. “It took a lot of practice, but I’ve gotten pretty good at it.”

“Clearly. How did you learn to fly?”

Facetfire rolled her eyes. “Uh, duh. Heat rises,” she said.

Mare Do Well sighed. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you,” said Facetfire. “I thought you worked at night.”

“Ponyville is under attack by an invading zebra army,” said Mare Do Well, pointing through the trees in Ponyville’s direction. “I don’t have time to wait for the Sun to set.”

Facetfire’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious? Okay, this is going to sound weird, but I swear I had no idea about Ponyville, and yet… ever since you left Phillydelphia, I’ve had this distinct feeling that I needed to visit home. When I woke up this morning it was so strong I couldn’t ignore it.” She smiled. “Mare Do Well, this is meant to be! I’ll help you save Ponyville, and then you’ll know I’m a real hero just like you!”

Mare Do Well groaned. “You are nothing like me,” she said. Then, glancing at the ghostly flames around Facetfire’s body, she added, “But maybe we could use your help.”

“Yesss!” Facetfire pumped her hoof, but her face quickly changed to one of confusion. “Wait… did you say ‘we’?”


(/\/\)


“Holy garbage cakes, you’re heavy,” Razorwing wheezed.

Harness grunted, dangling from Razorwing’s trembling forelegs. “This would be faster if you let me gallop there myself.”

Razorwing cackled. “Yeah, because you could run halfway across Equestria.”

“I could,” said Harness.

“Could not!”

“I’ll show you.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to get us to Ponyville—”

“Drop me right here, the fall wouldn’t hurt me.”

“—to save the world from a crazy zebra.”

Harness sighed and crossed his forelegs, crushing Razorwing’s hooves against his ribcage.

“Gaahh! Ouch, ouch, ouch!” Razorwing yelped.

Harness immediately dropped his forelegs to his sides. “Sorry!” he said. “Honestly, I didn’t mean to do that. I’m sorry.”

Razorwing sniffled. “It’s fine.”

They flew in silence. The shadow they cast slid over the empty, sunny fields of western Equestria at a slow but steady pace. Sweat dripped from Razorwing’s chin onto Harness’ black executioner’s mask, but neither of them noticed.

“Okay, I’m done,” Razorwing suddenly said, dropping in long intervals until they reached the ground. He dropped Harness and flopped onto his back, panting hard with his tongue hanging from the corner of his mouth.

“My turn?” asked Harness.

Razorwing nodded. “Yeah. I think I can balance on your back.” On wobbly hooves, he draped himself over the top of Harness and held onto the leather straps around his spotted body. “Just don’t feel bad if you can’t take us as far as you’re imaaaAAAAA!”

Harness jumped, springing the duo across hundreds of feet in seconds. When his hooves hit the ground, he galloped at phenomenal speeds for an earth pony, leaving behind a white and brown trail the likes of which Razorwing had only seen from pegasi.

“Sweet succulent Celestia!” Razorwing swore, shivering. “How are you doing this!?”

“Maybe I’ll explain in Ponyville,” Harness said over his shoulder in a steady, undisturbed voice. “Mare Do Well wanted to know as well.”

Razorwing scowled. “Huh, really? Weird, she didn’t mention it. At all.” He checked the bottom of one of his hooves. “Barely said a word about you, actually.”

Harness bounded into another long leap. Startled, Razorwing’s loose hoof wiggled wildly until it latched onto one of the metal rings and held on tightly.

Harness grinned, but said nothing.


(/\/\)


Facetfire screamed and pointed up. “Mare Do Well, look! The zebras are getting reinforcements! And they can fly!”

With a grin, Mare Do Well calmly said, “No. That’s Spritemare.”

“Huh?” Facetfire squinted into the blue sky. “But… there are, like, eight zebras up there!”

“Looks like four to me,” Mare Do Well said. “Plus one passenger. Can you send up a flare for them?”

The flying zebras noticed the thin stream of fire rise out of the forest and adjusted their course, carrying a slight, moss-green stallion between the four of them. When the stallion’s hooves were safely on the ground, three of the zebras vanished, leaving only Spritemare to make introductions.

“Synapse, this is Mare Do Well,” she said with a nod. “Mare Do Well, Synapse. He’s a quiet type.”

Indeed, Synapse had nothing to add to the introduction. Mare Do Well took in his peculiar appearance. His coat was dark green, his long mane black with a remarkable shine. The bags under his eyes did not match their neon color, and it seemed as though something was sparking behind his eyes, like watching a lightning storm through thin drapes. Most striking, however, was the broken horn on his head, jagged at its center as though someone had snapped off the tip. He wore only a heavy, velvet cloak, longer than Mare Do Well’s, that covered his tail and Cutie Mark.

“Thank you for coming, Synapse,” Mare Do Well greeted him. “Spritemare, thanks for bringing him. And this is Facetfire of Phillydelphia.”

“Okay, you’ve gotta tell me what that was all about,” Facetfire said, staring wide-eyed at Spritemare. “Were those other zebras also you?”

Spritemare opened her mouth to explain. Something crashed through the branches of a nearby tree, frightening the heroes. They turned toward the sound, ready to fight.

Harness landed hard, spraying dirt in all directions. Razorwing flopped off his back and smiled blearily at Mare Do Well. “Got him!” he said, his voice cracking.

“Thank you, Razorwing,” Mare Do Well said. She smiled under her mask. “Welcome, Harness.”

Harness nodded. “I hope we didn’t keep you waiting long,” he said to the group.

“Well hey there, Harness,” Facetfire said with a scowl.

“Facetfire.”

“Good, we all know each other!” said Razorwing, flipping onto his hooves and stretching out his wings. “Except the magician over here. Jeez, what happened to your horn?”

Synapse blinked. “It broke,” he said in a youthful, scratchy voice.

Razorwing gulped. “Uh… does it still work? Or did its magic transfer into your cape?”

“Razorwing!” said Spritemare. “Be nice.”

Razorwing bit his lip. “Whoops, sorry… not trying to be rude. I’m just, y’know, I want to know what everypony can do before we barge into Ponyville pretending to be a team.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Spritemare said. She turned to Synapse with a gentle smile. “What is it you do, Synapse? I’ve heard rumors from Baltimare, but I’d like to know from you.”

Synapse wouldn’t look at her. “You first,” he said.

“I can fly,” said Spritemare, flapping her insect-like wings. “I’m stronger than I should be. And I can create a few copies of myself.”

“That’s incredible!” said Facetfire. She cleared her throat and threw her head back in a regal pose. “Hello everypony, I’m Facetfire. I can manipulate fire and minds.”

“Just fire,” growled Mare Do Well.

“Heh…” Facetfire’s pose wilted a bit. “Well, I’m good at getting others to do what I want. Nothing magical about that part, though.”

“Thank goodness,” said Spritemare, smiling. “We’ve already had to deal with that back home. Razorwing?”

He saluted. “Top tier flier, super strong armor, and I have blades along the fronts of my wings.” He dropped his hoof and scuffed at the ground. “For emergencies.”

Harness was quick. “Harness. Quite strong, often quiet.”

Facetfire raised an eyebrow. “Quiet like you don’t talk much, or you’re good at being sneaky?”

“Both,” said Harness and Mare Do Well at the same time.

Mare Do Well looked to Synapse. “And you?”

Synapse looked away. “I absorb energy and let it out in concentrated shockwaves.”

“Whoa!” said Facetfire. “Winner!”

“What about you, Mare Do Well?” asked Spritemare. “Want to tell us what you do?”

Before she answered, Mare Do Well took in the sight of all six vigilantes gathered in one place.

“I protect this nation from those who would destroy it,” she said. “With all the help I can get. Each of you have risen from the masses to protect the cities you love. Not far from here, an town that I myself love dearly suffers at the hooves of violent invaders. I ask you as a humble servant of hope and a fellow protector of ponykind, will you fight with me for the restoration of its well deserved harmony?”


(/\/\)


The wide roads of Ponyville were packed with zebra warriors, densest around the brightly lit Town Hall. Something was clearly happening inside, and the warriors stood at the ready with spears in hoof, guarding vigilantly against any who would disturb.

Pockets of frightened ponies sat close together all through the city, surrounded by intimidating masks and a language they didn’t understand.

A line of especially broad zebras stood shoulder to shoulder directly in front of the Town Hall’s entrance. Their chests were large and prominent, their spears tall and glistening. Nothing could break the concentration of those seasoned warriors. From behind their colorful, ugly masks, they watched for any disturbances among the ponies their brothers in arms were keeping quiet.

Thk-thk-thk-thk-thk-thk-thk-thk.

The sharp spearheads of the zebras’ weapons dropped from above, bumping the tops of their heads before flopping uselessly to the ground.

The zebras glanced at each other and at the ends of their spears. Something had sliced clean through the wood, lopping off the spearheads. Warily they looked around, speaking to each other in simple, rhythmic tones.

“That sure is a nifty language you got there,” Razorwing said. “Say, are you the ones that put little clicks in your words? I gotta learn how to do that.”

Dozens of zebras in front of Town Hall looked up at the armored pony, tossing a spearhead from one hoof to the other while he sat nonchalantly on the edge of the building’s circular roof. He grinned and waved. “Nice spears! Might want to look into a tougher wood, though.”

One of the large zebras lifted his pointless stick above his head and shouted a short series of sounds that could only be described as a war cry. The chant was quickly picked up and repeated by hundreds of zebras throughout the city.

Razorwing gulped. “Uh oh.”

“Yureeeebe kuwe peh-tah!” the zebra shouted, then used his broken spear to vault himself at Razorwing.

“Aaahh!” Razorwing screamed and rolled to the side just before the zebra tackled him. “Holy smokes, these guys are for real!”

The zebra landed on the roof and rushed at him, ramming into Razorwing with his shoulder and knocking him off the building.

“Thank Celestia for wings!” Razorwing said, spreading his armored pair and twisting right side up as he fell. He flew through another group of zebras holding up their spears, cutting off the sharp tips with his wings. He laughed. “Too easy!”

From far away, a zebra warrior threw her spear like a javelin. Its aim was true and, just as Razorwing started to turn, it pierced through the lightweight armor of his right wing and stuck halfway, so that the shaft balanced in equal measure on either side of his wing.

“Gaah!” Razorwing barely had time to look before he lost all momentum, dropping into a crowd of zebras like a bowling ball. He groaned in pain and pulled the spear out of the front of his wing, letting his own blood dribble over his armor. “Thanks, karma…” he said.

The zebras he had knocked over scrambled to their hooves and readied their spears to stab him while he was down. Razorwing turned his back to them and curled into a ball. Though they tried to pierce the armor over his spine, the metal proved stronger than their spears.

“Little help here!” Razorwing yelled as loud as he could.

A huge ball of flame whizzed over Razorwing and exploded on the ground behind the attacking zebras. They shouted in fear and ran from the boom, but in their haste several of them bumped into the wide chest of Harness. Facetfire sat on his back with one hind leg crossed over the other, spinning another fireball above her synthetic horn.

“I’d leave him alone, if I were you,” she sneered down at the zebras.

Shouting angrily, the zebras paid no mind to her words and pulled her down from Harness’ back. She squeaked as the fireball above her head puffed out like a blown candle. She landed on her side and cowered while the zebras around her kicked and stomped on her body.

“Get them off!” she screamed.

Harness roared and barreled over the zebras, careful not to step on Facetfire while he chased her abusers away. She used a burst of fire under her hooves to jump to a nearby chimney and wrapped her limbs around it. Wincing in pain, she watched the battle continue below.

As a group of masked zebras marched to help their companions against Harness, they were suddenly ambushed from inside their circle. Three identical zebras punched, spun, and kicked the members of the group until it had dwindled to a single confused warrior.

“Yureebe kuwe peh-ta?” the warrior grumbled.

Spritemare, Spritemare, and Spritemare simultaneously punched him in the back of the neck. He tipped over without a grunt.

“Harness!” one of the Spritemares cried out. “We need to get inside that building. I bet that’s where the warlock is.”

“And how—” Harness picked up a zebra. “—do you propose—” He swung the zebra in a wide arc, knocking back several others. “—we do that?”

Spritemare pointed. “I’ll clear a path. Think you can break the door down?”

Harness knocked two zebras’ heads together and nodded at Spritemare. “Almost certainly,” he said, already waiting to sprint.

Spritemare clenched her teeth and concentrated. Aside from the two copies at her sides, three more appeared floating above her on buzzing wings. The six of them turned toward the largest group of zebras between Harness and Town Hall and cut into their lines, keeping close to the ground as they darted through the crowd, pushing warriors aside to part an uneven path.

Harness bolted forward as soon as he saw a chance. Some zebras managed to plant their spears into a few of Spritemare’s clones. The doppelgangers fell and disintegrated, leaving nothing but a stinging sensation in Spritemare’s own flesh.

“Ahh! I’m sorry, I-I can’t…” she said, trying to hold back the zebras while Harness charged. The path began to fill, but Harness didn’t slow down.

Mare Do Well swooped from above and kicked aside two zebras as she landed. With punches like lightning strikes, she drove the crowd aside, leaping out of Harness’ way at the last moment. The great stallion lowered his head and aimed for the doors of Town Hall…

They opened from the inside, and a tall zebra wielding a gnarled staff thrust it out in front of him. The moment the fabric of Harness’ mask touched the foggy green orb at the end of the staff, his body froze mid-gallop, suspended in a peculiar, swirling darkness.

King Zimbaya twisted the staff, and Harness was thrown back with a loud boom. Mare Do Well leapt for the staff, but a meager flick of Zimbaya’s wrist sent her tumbling to the side.

The warlock surveyed his fallen warriors, said something loudly in his language, and raised the staff above his head. A pulse of green energy from it coated the zebras’ bodies in a shimmering green light. They cheered and helped their fallen companions to their hooves, training their eyes on whichever vigilante was nearest to them.

“What’s going on?” asked Facetfire from the rooftop.

Synapse stepped out of the shadows where he had hidden unnoticed. “He gave them impenetrable shields,” he said while helping Harness up. His broken horn was crackling with green electricity. “They will feel no pain from our blows.”

The warlock closed the doors of Town Hall, and hundreds of shielded zebra warriors slowly made circles around each of the vigilantes.

Razorwing, leaning against a wall directly below Facetfire, watched them approach warily. He rotated his injured wing at its joint. “Hold on, you’re saying they can’t be punched?” he asked loudly. “Or… cut?”

“We will not be able to hurt them,” Synapse replied. “Though they may yet be toppled over, I think.”

Razorwing grinned. “Awesome.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Razorwing stomped his two left hooves forward and swung his uninjured wing at neck height. Its blade did not cut through the green shields, but its force was enough to knock over the zebras around him like dominoes.

“All right!” shouted Razorwing. “Let’s do this!”

Mare Do Well leapt on one of the zebra’s heads. His neighbors tried to stab her with their spears, but she was too quick, rolling off the zebra’s back into a low glide. She bounced like a pinball from warrior to warrior until she arrived between Harness’ and Synapse.

“Spritemare, help Razorwing!” Mare Do Well shouted. “Synapse, see if you can’t coax Facetfire down from her perch. Harness, you’re with me.”

“What’s the goal here?” asked Spritemare, flying over the zebras to where Razorwing spun gleefully, slapping them back with his outstretched wings.

“Breach Town Hall,” said Mare Do Well, “and break that staff.”

“I like it!” said Razorwing. “Nice and simple!” He jumped forward and slammed two zebras in their chests with the flats of his armored hooves. Spritemare flew down and tripped them from behind, snatching away their spears while they fumbled over each other.

Mare Do Well said to Harness, “I’ll be quick, you be heavy.”

“Deal.”

Reaching into the pockets of her belt, Mare Do Well produced a stack of thin metal plates emblazoned with her insignia. Like dealing cards, she quickly flicked them at the zebra warriors’ masks one after another. The zebras flinched, and Harness wasted no time, swinging heavy hooves and bucking massive legs to incapacitate as many of them as he could.

Mare Do Well snaked just ahead of his rampage, delivering swift punches to zebra ribs, knees, and masks. While her jabs didn’t seem to hurt them, it was distracting enough for Harness to land devastating hits to their necks and the tops of their heads, knocking them over if not unconscious. 

Stealing a spear from a fallen zebra, Mare Do Well dug the sharp end into the ground and spun around the pole, kicking the same five zebras over and over until Harness rammed them with his shoulder and smacked them down with his forehead.

Spritemare and Razorwing had a similar tactic, although—between flight and increased numbers—it was easier for Spritemare to bother and distract the zebras while Razorwing let loose his wings, spinning and smacking to his heart’s content.

“Ooohhh, I’m getting dizzy!” Razorwing said through a wide smile. “I’m gonna vom! This is awesome!”

Alerted by the sounds of battle, zebras stationed all over Ponyville poured into the main square. Surrounded on every side by increasing waves of screaming warriors, the vigilantes were soon overpowered. Spritemare was pulled down by her hind hooves; Razorwing had to tuck in his wings to avoid another spear wound; more than a dozen zebras swarmed over Harness’ writhing body like ants; Mare Do Well’s cape was pinned to the ground with several spears, choking her.

“Oh no!” Facetfire said, tightening her grip around the chimney. “What do I do?”

Synapse lifted his hoof to her. “Blast me with fire!” he shouted.

“What?”

“Shoot fire at me! As much as you can make!”

Facetfire guffawed. “No! Why would I do that?”

“Trust me, I know what to do!”

Shaking her head, Facetfire cried out, “I can’t!”

A fearsome light sparked behind Synapse’s eyes. “Do it or we will all die here,” he said in a resonant voice.

Frightened, Facetfire closed her eyes, charged up magic in her horn, and shot a blazing stream of fire at Synapse.

The zebras encroaching on Synapse jumped away as the fire encased his whole body. Facetfire opened her eyes and gasped at the flames below, trapped in a quivering field of energy that pulsed from Synapse’s broken horn. In concentrated strings, the fire changed color and orbited his body, entering his horn like a vacuum sucking up otherworldly spaghetti.

“Dear Luna…” breathed Facetfire.

Synapse’s body shone like magic itself; his heavy cloak billowed around him without wind. He galloped for Town Hall. Terrified zebras jumped out of his way, grasshoppers in the path of a cat. Those brave enough to try and stop him with their hooves and spears were thrown aside by loud surges of power.

Frail as he was, Synapse bowled through the entire zebra army, reared up on his hind legs, slammed his hooves onto the bolted door, and buried his broken horn in its wood.

The glow in his body briefly transferred to the door, and then it exploded. The event was bright, loud, and short, devoid of stray splinters or spreading fire. In a thunderous flash, Town Hall’s large front door was there one moment and gone the next.

The battlefield was silent. Synapse dropped to his belly, breathing hard.

Razorwing glanced up at Facetfire. “Winner,” he said with a smirk.

Slowly, Synapse rose to his hooves and glared at the army of zebras over his shoulder. Between strands of his long black hair, tiny bolts of lightning arced behind his eyes.

In a loud and desperate commotion, close to a thousand Zebraharan warriors swiftly fled the village.

> 20 - The Stripes of Family
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


CHAPTER TWENTY
THE STRIPES OF FAMILY


Mare Do Well led the vigilantes into Town Hall.

“Are you all right?” asked Harness while he supported Synapse through the empty doorway.

Synapse nodded. “I’ve lived through… far worse than that,” he said between breaths.

“You’re sure I didn’t hurt you? Not at all?” Facetfire asked.

“We can give him a physical later,” said Mare Do Well. “Thank you, Synapse, you’ve done a great deal. Now we need to find the warlock.”

“Mare Do Well!” somepony shouted.

She spun around. The enormous main chamber of the hall was pitch black. Mare Do Well couldn’t see very far into it. 

“Who’s there?” Razorwing shouted.

“All of us, ya butterknife! Don’t any of you have some kind of flashlight power?”

Mare Do Well smiled behind her mask. “Lyra,” she said under her breath. She turned to Facetfire. “Anything you can do?”

Facetfire nodded. A few sparks from her horn transformed into gently glowing flames that floated to the top of the chamber. They shone down on a large group of ponies, bound together with the same shadowy tentacles that had attacked the Wishing Well.

“Mare Do Well!” Lyra said again, smiling. “Get us out of here!”

Mare Do Well ran to them. She recognized many prominent citizens of Ponyville among the hostages, along with the pegasi she had seen captured in Lyra’s vision. She noticed Rarity tied up near the Cakes, Scootaloo and Bulk Biceps back to back, and even her own brother, Big Macintosh, cradling Fluttershy and their foals in the center. Notably missing was Applejack.

Tears sprang to Mare Do Well’s eyes before she reached the group. Despite her desire to jump into Macintosh’s embrace, she headed straight for Lyra.

“Where’s the warlock?” she asked, fiddling with the ethereal cords around Lyra’s chest and shoulders.

“I don’t know!” she said. “As soon as the door came down, the whole place went black and he disappeared.”

Mare Do Well huffed through her nostrils and tugged at the shadow rope to no avail. “He must still be around,” she said, “or these things would likely disappear. Good to see you, by the way.”

Lyra grinned and whispered, “You too, Bloom.”

“I can’t get these undone,” Mare Do Well shouted behind her. “Synapse, what can you tell me about them?”

Harness helped Synapse limp closer. He put his horn close to the darkness around Lyra. “Oh… I got it,” he said, bending a bit closer.

As soon as his horn touched the magic binding Lyra, all of it—every bit around every pony—vanished. The citizens rejoiced, rising to their hooves and embracing one another or stretching out their limbs.

“How did you do that?” asked Lyra, rubbing her shoulder.

Synapse tapped his horn with a wince. “Absorbed it. I’ll have to let it out later, but… it’s not too bad for now.”

“What does that feel like?” Lyra asked.

“Like having to pee magic,” said Synapse in a flat voice.

Lyra laughed. “I like this one,” she said, patting Mare Do Well on the back. “Good find.”

“Is everypony all right?” Spritemare asked, hovering above the crowd. “Did any of you see where the warlock went?”

“Aren’t you one of them?” asked Pound Cake. His father bonked him on the head.

Spritemare giggled. “No, I’m from Manehattan,” she said. “Not all zebras are bad.”

“We’re well aware of that,” said Rarity, “though he certainly didn’t believe us.”

Mare Do Well stepped forward. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you see, App… -proximately two hours ago,” Rarity said, offering Mare Do Well an apologetic glance, “we were chosen and herded in here like cattle when he asked who among the citizens of Ponyville had known Zecora.”

“Zecora?” repeated Spritemare.

“She was a zebra who lived in the Everfree Forest,” said Lyra. “A shaman, good with potions and helpful with lyrics.”

“Sadly, she passed away some years ago,” said Rarity, “of natural causes.”

“Or of a broken heart,” said Fluttershy softly.

Rarity rolled her eyes. “Yes, well, in any case, she certainly wasn’t murdered, as that lunatic seemed to believe.”

“He knew Zecora?” Mare Do Well asked. “How?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” said Rarity, running a hoof over her mane. “He kept asking questions about her and… well, threatening us, really. It was all in rhyme, mind you, which made some of his demands rather difficult to understand.”

“Demands?” asked Harness.

“He kept askin’ for the truth,” said Macintosh.

Mare Do Well noticed Macintosh’s eyes were locked on her, so she actively avoided his gaze. For her liking, too many ponies in the room knew her identity. Was Macintosh one of them?

“What did you tell him?” asked Harness.

“The truth,” said Rarity. “Many of us loved Zecora. We know very little about the circumstances of her death.”

“And he didn’t mention his connection to her?” Mare Do Well asked.

Before anypony could respond, a rumbling voice filled the chamber and the floating flames above their heads went out, plunging the Ponyvilleans and their would-be heroes into darkness.

“Before these wicked ponies got her, Zecora was my precious daughter.”

Mare Do Well’s stomach dropped at the sound. Above their heads, in a swirling cloud of green and black, King Zimbaya appeared, lit by the glow of his staff’s strange orb. He removed his twisted mask; it melted like wet smoke in his hoof, revealing an old and angry face with a short striped beard under clear blue eyes.


(/\/\)


“I love you, Zecora,” said Apple Bloom.

Zecora’s clear blue eyes looked down in surprise. “What a lovely thing to say. Why express it on this day?”

Apple Bloom shrugged. “You’ve done so much fer me and my friends. Every time I come here yer so nice to me and I feel so welcome. I dunno, I just got the same fuzzy feelin’ I get when Granny Smith comes upstairs to say g’night, and I figured I’d letcha know.”

Zecora laughed. “Honest and tender, just like a true Apple. Being sincere is a concept you grapple.”

“Yeah, I guess yer right. Runs in the family.” Apple Bloom grinned. “Are you anythin’ like yer parents, Zecora?”

Her laughter faded, and her bright eyes suddenly dimmed. Zecora swallowed hard, as though her throat had gone dry. “My mother left this world long, long ago,” she said. “And as for my father, the answer is no.”

“Oh.” Apple Bloom slumped over. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject.”

Zecora shook her head and smiled. “Family guides us and gives us our life, but often they’re also the source of our strife. Maybe this is destined to go hoof in hoof, as we need both rain and a nice sturdy roof.”

Apple Bloom nodded. “Good point. When was the last time you saw yer family?”

Zecora chuckled and tasted the stew brewing in her cauldron. “In truth, Apple Bloom, it is hard to be sure. Perhaps twenty years, or perhaps even more.”

“Whoa! How old are you again?”

Shooting her a dirty look, Zecora said, “Many things I’ll share with you, but ask my age and I’ll say ‘shoo’!”

Apple Bloom giggled. As Zecora dipped her ladle in for another taste, little Apple Bloom scurried around the cauldron and threw her arms around Zecora’s middle.

“Oof!” said the Zebra, offering Apple Bloom a pleasantly inquisitive glance.

“Wherever you came from, I’m glad yer part of the Ponyville family now,” she said.

“Thank you, little friend. So am I,” she said, patting Apple Bloom’s mane. “And here I’ll stay until I die.”


(/\/\)


“Your daughter?” shouted Rarity. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

“Silence, white one full of words, lest I leave you for the birds!”

Rarity shrunk, one eye twitching.

“Calm down now,” said Mare Do Well, raising a hoof to him. She stepped forward apart from the crowd. “Are you really Zecora’s father?”

“Would I lie to make it be? She meant everything to me!” His voice shook the ground, and the strange fog upholding him swirled faster or slower with his tone.

“Why did she never mention you?” asked Mare Do Well.

The orb at the top of his staff grew brighter with Zimbaya’s rage. “How dare you assume the things that she said, when you never knew her before she was dead?”

Mare Do Well gestured to the trembling crowd of ponies behind her. “Many of these were Zecora’s friends,” she said. “They would have known you if she had talked about you.”

“These so called friends you think are good kept my sweet daughter in the wood,” he said, “alone and shunned by ponykind with their cold hearts and tight shut minds.”

“No they didn’t! Zecora chose to live in the Everfree Forest,” Mare Do Well argued. “She had a home out there, and she was free to visit the village whenever she wanted.”

A thunderclap echoed in the chamber. “Silence these disgusting lies! She was a monster in their eyes. Because of stripes upon her fur, nopony here would speak to her.”

“That was a long time ago,” said Mare Do Well. “As soon as Twilight Sparkle moved to Ponyville, she—”

“Uuuurraaaaa!” Zimbaya shouted, tossing his head back in a chilling roar. “Twilight Sparkle, worst of all! Her kingdom here will surely fall!”

Mare Do Well was reeling, more from her own confusion than from his volume. “What did Twilight ever do to Zecora? They loved each other!”

“Even if Zecora thought that Twilight was her friend, it’s clear to me betrayal led to her untimely end!”

“What are you saying?” asked Rarity. “We want to understand, just please speak plainly!”

“Enough with the theatrics!” Mare Do Well shouted. “Come down here! None of us want to hurt you, we just want to know what’s going on.”

The magic swirled up and around Zimbaya, then dropped him to the floor. The lights of Town Hall relit themselves as the strange shadows and green lightning bottled itself in the staff. Head slightly lowered, Zimbaya glared at Mare Do Well and her companions from beneath a heavy brow.

“Zecora died when Twilight left,” said Zimbaya. “She must have aided in her death.” Though his voice was quieter, it carried no less malice than it had when magically amplified.

“Zecora died of natural causes.” Nurse Redheart step forward. “You seem to think she was murdered, but that’s not the case. I was there when her body was examined. She was sick.”

Zimbaya scowled. “Your testament, it seems to me, is part of the conspiracy. Zecora was hated and shunned by your town, so why all pretend to be fond of her now?”

“They’re not pretending,” said Mare Do Well. “Nopony killed Zecora, especially not Twilight. It’s terrible that she passed away, but she was loved and happy until the end.”

Zimbaya closed his eyes and waved the staff over his head. A ghostly image of Zecora appeared, lying in her cot, exhausted and almost motionless. As the enchanted Ponyvilleans and vigilantes watched, wisps of light rose out of Zecora’s head and twisted together.

“As she died, these were her thoughts. Loved and happy they are not.”

The images swirling above Zecora’s head were difficult to interpret—dreamlike. There were moments of clarity: Zecora scuffing the ground in an empty Ponyville, meditating alone in the forest, warding off timberwolves with exploding traps. Then Twilight Sparkle appeared, wingless, and nuzzled Zecora gently. Moments later, the Princess of Friendship sprouted wings and flew away as the Everfree Forest caught fire.

Zimbaya’s staff dimmed and the entire mirage vanished away. Mare Do Well noticed tears glistening in the warlock’s eyes.

“She… she may have had a fever,” said Nurse Redheart. “Minds are not at their most stable while they are… slowing down.”

His features twitching, Zimbaya thrust forward his staff. Nurse Redheart’s eyes bulged and she reached for her neck. Her chest spasmed as she tried to breathe.

“Let her go!” screamed Lyra.

Razorwing leapt for the staff with his good wing outstretched. He tried to cut off the glass ball at the end, but as soon as his blade made contact with the wood he was tossed backward with a green flash.

Mare Do Well and Spritemare both sprung at Zimbaya. He stepped back, avoiding them without breaking his spell on Nurse Redheart.

“Stop it!” Fluttershy cried out, helplessly pulling at the air around Nurse Redheart’s neck. “Please, stop it!”

Facetfire shot a wall of flame at the warlock. With a flick of his staff, Zimbaya made the fire vanish… revealing two massive stallions galloping at full speed. Big Macintosh and Harness slammed into Zimbaya, carrying him over their shoulders all the way to the front of Town Hall. They threw him out of the building, and Nurse Redheart sucked in a welcome breath of air. 

Macintosh stayed inside, hurrying back to Fluttershy, but Harness chased Zimbaya into the streets.

“Go!” shouted Mare Do Well. Razorwing, Spritemare, and Facetfire flew outside single file. Mare Do Well turned to the crowd. “Stay in here and stay together. We’ll come back when it’s safe.”

Knowing Ponyvilleans, she was sure they wouldn’t listen, but she felt better for having said something.

Mare Do Well and Synapse emerged from Town Hall well behind the others. Razorwing and Spritemare were taking dives at Zimbaya, but he twirled and jabbed his staff expertly, keeping them at bay with magic and melee. Every time Harness tried to attack, a twirl or flick of the staff pushed him away. Facetfire tossed fireballs whenever she saw an opportunity, but a cloud of shadows caught them no matter where she aimed.

“Synapse, can you use the energy you absorbed from the cords back there?” Mare Do Well asked.

Synapse shook his head. “I have to be touching something with my horn to let the energy out,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” she said. “Any ideas?”

“He’s… very powerful.” Synapse shuddered. “I can feel it. That staff is ancient. It has taken uncountable lives.”

“Let’s not add ours,” said Mare Do Well. She crouched, ready to join the fray. “All we need to do is get that staff away from him, and the city will be safe.”

“How?” Synapse asked. He watched Harness slam into a wall for the fourth time in a row. The masked stallion rose undaunted and charged at Zimbaya once more.

Mare Do Well’s eyes darted from hero to frustrated hero. “I… I don’t…” she stammered.

Beyond the city, rumbling from the edge of the Everfree Forest, a tumultuous roar bellowed from the throat of some gigantic beast, shaking the sky and its meandering clouds. The battle ceased in the streets of Ponyville as every face turned to the noise, hearts pounding in their ears.

“What was that?” Synapse whispered.

A spiny shape rose above the most distant buildings. It continued to climb, higher and higher, until it stood three times as tall as any of the city’s homes. Its scales shone violet in the Sunlight, and huge green horns curled along its jawline from either side of its head. Hanging from one of those horns, like a fallen leaf stuck to the head of a lizard, was an orange mare with a big old hat and a long, blonde tail blowing in the wind.

Mare Do Well’s jaw dropped. “Applejack?” she choked. “Is that… Spike?”

The dragon tossed back his head and roared again, spreading his leathery wings as wide as they would go. The ponies and zebras took a collective step away.

“Is that Twilight’s little dragon?” Facetfire asked.

“Little?” Razorwing squeaked.

Zimbaya raised his staff and disappeared in a swirl of shadows. Mare Do Well and Synapse galloped down from the doorless entrance and joined the other heroes in the square. Several Ponyvilleans replaced them in the doorway, drawn out by the dragon’s dreadful roars.

“Spike!” said Fluttershy.

“Sweet Celestia, he grew fast…” said Harness.

Mare Do Well gave him a sideways glance. “You knew Spike?”

Harness didn’t answer, addressing Synapse instead. “Can you tell where the warlock went?”

Synapse closed his eyes. “Not precisely,” he said, “but he didn’t leave. I think he turned himself invisible. I’m not sure the staff can achieve teleportation.”

“Good to know,” said Mare Do Well. “The dragon’s on our side, everypony. Stick to the plan: find Zimbaya and take away his staff.”

“Uhhh, Mare Do Well?” Facetfire said, pointing at the dragon. “I found him.”

King Zimbaya slowly materialized on a chariot of darkness, flying straight at Spike’s angry face. He circled the staff over his head, building up some kind of energy, and shot it at Spike before the dragon could swat him down.

The blast of magic wrapped thick black cords around Spike’s snout and over his eyes. He thrashed his head around, tossing Applejack from her perch.

“Razorwing!” Mare Do Well screamed.

“On it!” Razorwing shot up as if from a slingshot and caught Applejack out of the air before she had been falling for two whole seconds.

“Spritemare, can you get Synapse up there?” Mare Do Well asked.

Before she could answer, Spike growled deep in his throat, shaking the ground and rattling leaves in trees all over the city. He pointed his face at the sky; muscles in his neck twitched and rippled under his scales. 

In an instant, the shadowy cords around his face snapped and fizzled into nothing, allowing his huge jaws to drop open and scream between sharp, stony teeth.

“Holy horse hockey!” Razorwing shouted. He looked down at Applejack dangling in his hooves. “Where did you find this guy?”

Applejack grinned. “Yeeeehaw! Yer Rainbow’s little brother, ain’tcha? I can tell by the fact that you still haven’t put me down!”

Zimbaya swerved his chariot of shadows to avoid Spike’s gaping jaws. The dragon’s tall pupil’s zeroed in on the zebra king. He thrust out a claw and grabbed Zimbaya out of the air. There was a flash of light from the staff and Spike let go with a yelp, pulling the claw into his chest.

The king, falling, conjured another dark cloud to carry him away, but Spike extended a wing, lifted it high above his head, and brought it down hard on the warlock. Zimbaya took the full force of the leathery wing, toppled off his shadows, and slammed into the ground thirty feet below.

“Let’s go, let’s go!” Mare Do Well yelled to her companions. They sped to the edge of the city where Spike towered, examining his claw.

Razorwing set Applejack down near the fallen zebra king as the others arrived in a group. Applejack glanced at Mare Do Well for only a moment before turning her full attention to Spike.

“You all right, big guy?”

“I think he burned my palm,” Spike said. His voice was deep and rich, but still very familiar to Mare Do Well. “I’ve never been burned before,” he continued, frowning at his claw. “It hurts.”

“I’ve seen you take lava baths,” Applejack said. “How in tarnation could a fancy staff burn ya if molten rock don’t?”

Spike shook his head and shook out his claw, looking down at the gaggle of heroes around Zimbaya’s motionless form. “I don’t know, but get that staff away from him.”

Mare Do Well hurried forward and snatched up the staff out of Zimbaya’s hoof. She offered it to Synapse, who took it gingerly and stepped away from the others.

“Is he dead?” asked Razorwing.

Mare Do Well felt Zimbaya’s neck. “No. His heart’s beating. Probably has a few broken bones, though.”

“I’m sure that I do, and quite more than a few,” Zimbaya said. His words were muffled by the dirt in his face.

“Oh, still rhyming, I see,” said Razorwing. “Just as not-annoying as ever.”

Zimbaya tried to stand, but fell to his side and stared up at Spike with one eye. “In all my years, what that staff makes I thought impossible to break. Your strength is truly legendary, not to mention rather scary.”

Spike smirked. “Thanks. I work out.”

Zimbaya closed his eye. “Here at the end, at least I know the power of my final foe.”

“What, are you dying?” Spike asked, raising a scaly brow.

The warlock’s eye popped back open. “You’ve bested me, dragon; now take my life. I’ll soon see Zecora and my wife.”

Spike shook his head. “Not today, I’m afraid. I’m not going to kill you.”

“Spike, this is Zecora’s father,” Mare Do Well said. “He came to Ponyville to take revenge on the city he thinks murdered his daughter, and then he wants to take Twilight off her throne.”

A strange expression tightened Spike’s features; some mix between sadness, disappointment, and interest. “Hmm,” was all he said.

“I was a good friend o’ Zecora’s,” said Applejack. “I loved her like a wise teacher, or maybe some kinda spunky aunt. I’m very sorry about her passin’.” She took off her hat and held it over her chest. “I was the one that found her, truth be told. She wasn’t murdered. It must have been some kinda disease or maybe a heart attack, I reckon.”

“Yes, yes, I’ve heard this lie before,” Zimbaya spat, “and I won’t hear it anymore. If you are all so kind and good, why leave Zecora out in the wood?”

“Zecora loved the Everfree Forest,” said Mare Do Well.

“She lived there on account of her wantin’ to,” said Applejack, “not ‘cause anypony in town forced her to. After Twilight moved in and helped us get to know her, Zecora was a loved and important member o’ the community ‘til the day she died. Honest.”

Zimbaya’s eyes narrowed. Once again, he tried to stand. Spike reached down and gently scooped him into one giant claw. Zimbaya flinched and shut his eyes tightly.

“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you,” Spike said. “I want to show you where she lived.”

Spike walked slowly into the forest, allowing the ponies below to keep up with him on hoof. All together, they escorted Zimbaya to Zecora’s hut. Spike set him down near the front door, silently allowing the warlock to take it all in.

The hollowed out tree was tidy, well kept, and—though abandoned—covered with signs of life. Dozens of bouquets of colorful flowers lay all around the front door and propped in the window sills. Gently glowing bottles of potions, no doubt left by some of her Ponyvillean students, hung from the branches or lit up the alcoves in the tree’s protruding roots, casting lovely streams of light on tall, inviting masks.

Lying on his belly, Zimbaya’s eyes drifted from one beautiful display to the next. “What… what…” he said a few times, but was unable to finish a sentence, let alone make a rhyme. His eyes filled with tears.

Applejack put a hoof on his shoulder. “This is where Zecora lived,” she said. “We used to visit her all the time. And, as you can see, she’s still very much in the hearts and thoughts o’ the locals.”

Zimbaya slowly shook his head. “But… my vision showed fire and long, lonely days. Despite what I see here, a dark feeling stays.”

Mare Do Well spoke up. “I think… I think what Fluttershy said earlier might be true. I think Zecora’s heart may have broken when Twilight left Ponyville.”

Applejack sighed. “I reckon there’s truth to that. She loved Twilight like a daughter. To see her act the way she did couldn’t have been easy.”

“What exactly happened to Twilight?” Razorwing asked. “Rainbow Dash never told me.”

“And neither will I,” said Applejack, though all eyes were on her, “because honestly, I don’t know. She changed after Pinkie Pie died.” Applejack lowered her head and sighed. “We all did.”

Mare Do Well’s knees began to shake.

“Death is the one thing all creatures must share,” said Zimbaya, “and yet, for its impact we cannot prepare.”

“I’m real sorry about Zecora,” said Applejack. Her hoof was still firmly planted on the warlock’s shoulder.

Finally, as a tear dripped from his eye, Zimbaya nodded. “As am I for this violent intrusion. I should not have trusted a vague illusion.”

The vigilantes relaxed as Zimbaya broke down in tears. They looked at each other gratefully, and finally started to feel the bruises covering many of their bodies.


(/\/\)


The zebra army had gathered at the mouth of Ghastly Gorge, and King Zimbaya sent them home. He stayed, however, to learn more about Zecora’s life in Ponyville. The citizens, unsurprisingly, were quick to forgive and happy to share their stories. Through it all, however, Synapse kept a hold of his staff, and Zimbaya did not ask for its return.

While the limping, smiling warlock was shown around Ponyville, Spike and Applejack led the vigilantes back into the Everfree Forest to a once sacred place, with the promise to answer their many questions.

Deep in a cave none of the vigilantes had ever seen, the Tree of Harmony, once a stalwart symbol of Equestria’s strength, was reduced to little more than a wilting black husk. They stood before it with heavy hearts as Spike’s head loomed behind them, the only part of him that would fit in the glittering cave.

“What happened?” asked Mare Do Well, stroking her hoof along the underside of one of the tree’s shriveled branches.

“And, for those of us unfamiliar with the splendors of the greater Ponyville area, what is it?” asked Razorwing.

“This was once the Tree of Harmony, the birthplace of the six Elements of Harmony,” answered Spike. “It was here that Celestia and Luna learned to master Honesty, Loyalty, Generosity, Kindness, Laughter, and the Magic of Friendship. With these they overpowered Discord and sealed him away in stone. With these, Twilight Sparkle and her first dear friends defeated Nightmare Moon and reminded Princess Luna of her true self. With these, they were bestowed with the power to cast Lord Tirek into Tartarus and protect Equestria from all who would oppose it.”

“But ever since Pinkie Pie died,” Applejack said, “the Elements have vanished, and the Tree of Harmony is dyin’.”

“Doesn’t the Tree stop the forest from overtaking Equestria?” asked Mare Do Well.

“It does more than that, it seems,” said Spike. “The Tree is a source of goodness that affects all of ponykind. As it dies, so does Equestrian hope, and the temptations to commit crime and to abuse other ponies for power grow strong in the hearts of its citizens.”

Razorwing raised a hoof. “Uh, Mister Giant Purple Dragon, I hate to distract from your beautiful retelling of Modern Harmonic History, but who exactly are you and how do you know all of this?”

“Spike was Twilight’s assistant while she lived in Ponyville, and even before that,” said Applejack.

Spike nodded his heavy head. “Princess Twilight raised me.”

“So why aren’t you in Canterlot with her?” asked Facetfire. “That’s always where I figured you went.”

Spike’s eyes darkened.

Razorwing gaped at Facetfire. “You know him, too?”

“Well, duh. I grew up in Ponyville,” Facetfire said, flipping her mane to one side of her neck.

“Jeez, what is with this place? How many of you are from Ponyville?”

“Razorwing, please,” said Harness. “I’d like to know what drove Spike and the Princess apart.”

Spike sighed, streams of stray smoke spilling from his nostrils. “After Pinkie Pie’s death… when I learned of her intentions in the Royal Court… I could no longer support her, but I couldn’t bear to live in Equestria without her. I joined the dragons across the sea and thought my days of living among ponies were behind me.”

“But Applejack brought you back,” Mare Do Well realized aloud.

“Yes,” said Spike. “Some months ago, Applejack found me among the dragons. It must have been an arduous journey.”

Applejack shrugged. “I’ve made arduous-er. Somehow I knew we’d needja.”

“I have been living in the Everfree Forest since then, containing some of its threats myself,” said Spike. “Applejack fetched me when the zebras attacked.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” said Spritemare. “Thanks for your help.”

Spike smiled. “Of course. I must admit, though much has changed, it’s wonderful to be among ponies again.”

“Will you help us recover the Elements?” asked Mare Do Well. “Do you know where they are?”

“I don’t,” said Spike. “If anypony knows, it’s Twilight.”

Razorwing gulped.

Mare Do Well tilted back her hat to get a good look at Spike. “Then I guess we’ll need to ask the Princess of Dusk personally. Will you help us do that?”

Spike’s eyes glazed over. “No. I’m sorry, but… no. I couldn’t face Twilight.”

Harness cleared his throat. It echoed loudly in the cave. “I’d like for us all to realize we’ve had an unusually exhausting day. The Sun is setting. Let’s rest tonight and try to recover. We can make plans to find what happened to the Elements of Harmony tomorrow. For now, there are plenty of beds in Ponyville.”

“Well, not for me,” said Spike with a grin. “I’ll retreat to my own cave for the night and find you in the morning.” He looked at Mare Do Well. “And I will give thought to your request.”

“Thank you,” said Mare Do Well. “That’s all I ask.”

Spike pulled back his head, stood to his tremendous height, and lumbered deeper into the forest with earth-quaking steps.

“Think y’all can find your way back to Ponyville without me?” asked Applejack. “I’d like to stay here and have a talk with Mare Do Well. Alone.”

Razorwing saluted. “Sure thing. I’ll lead the way.”

Harness leaned to Mare Do Well and whispered, “Find me later.” They briefly made eye contact—or as close as two masked ponies can get to eye contact—before he joined the rest of them and climbed out of the Tree of Harmony’s cave into the Everfree’s thick shadows.

Applejack waited until the cave was empty and completely silent. She couldn’t look at Mare Do Well for more than a few seconds at a time.

“So… you’ve got your own little team o’ Power Ponies now, huh?” Applejack asked.

Mare Do Well could tell she was trying to be serious, but there was the barest hint of a smile in her voice.

“Oh, Applejack.” Mare Do Well let her hat slide off and pulled down her mask. “Rainbow Dash told me you were missin’ in Ponyville. I thought somethin’ terrible had happened to you. Turns out you were just fetchin’ Spike.”

“I was always good at critter herdin’,” Applejack said. “Dragon’s ain’t so different, turns out.”

Apple Bloom laughed and ran into her sister’s open forelegs. They held each other close for a long moment.

“I didn’t think you could do it, Bloom,” said Applejack. “Really, I didn’t. I thought you’d get yourself killed like poor Harper. But you’ve really made a splash. Lyra told me it ain’t been easy, neither.”

Shaking her head, Apple Bloom laughed. “No, it ain’t. Gosh, I haven’t felt so happy in ages. It’s so good to see you.”

“Do any o’ yer friends know who you are?” asked Applejack.

“Not a one,” said Applejack. “Guess my silly accents paid off.”

“Good. Better that way. Well, shoot, I’m so sorry, Apple Bloom.” Applejack sat on her haunches and smoothed down the hair on her neck. “I was so scared last time I saw you. Scared I’d lose my sister to Twilight’s madness, too.”

“It’s nearly time to face her, y’know,” said Apple Bloom. “Time to get some answers.”

“For y’all, maybe,” said Applejack. “Not me. I’m stayin’ here.”

Apple Bloom nodded. “I figured as much. Rainbow Dash didn’t want to help, either, once she realized the end goal.”

“What is the end goal, Bloom?” Applejack’s eyebrows tilted sadly. “What hope do y’all have against an alicorn?”

“Between all of us—including a dragon and zebra warlock, and I reckon they’ll both come along in the end—I think we stand a good chance.” She glanced at the wilting Tree of Harmony. “What other choice do we have? We need to find out what happened to the Elements after….” She swallowed hard.

Applejack brought a hoof to her little sister’s cheek. “It ain’t yer fault, Bloom,” she said.

Apple Bloom’s bottom lip immediately started to quiver. “Don’t say that.”

“I know what yer thinkin’. I’m yer family, and I can see it yer eyes.” Applejack pushed a lock of Apple Bloom’s matted, red hair behind her ears. “I know it seems like one thing led to another, but it ain’t yer fault that Pinkie died in the first place, and it certainly ain’t yer fault that Twilight’s rule is so… different than we mighta expected.”

Apple Bloom wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Sure feels like it’s my fault.”

“And maybe that’s a good thing,” said Applejack, “if it’s driving you to do all the good yer doin’. Apple Bloom, I’ve never been more proud of you.”

With watering eyes, Apple Bloom looked back into her sister’s. “Do you mean that?”

“I do.” Applejack tucked her sister into another hug. “I really do, Bloom. It’s not over yet, I know, but… I wouldn’t trust another soul on this planet to save Equestria the way I’m trustin’ you. Do it for Granny, Apple Bloom. Do it for Zecora. Do it for Pinkie Pie and Harper. But most of all, do it for all the ponies who deserve an Equestria like the one you and I grew up in, not whatever this is.”

Apple Bloom shed tears into Applejack’s coat, nodding solemnly. “I will,” she promised. “And I’ll do it for you.”


(/\/\)


“Wow, that’s a big wrench.”

Scootaloo glared at Razorwing. He was perched on the gently spinning propellor of the Wishing Well. “You talking about the one in my hoof or the one on my butt?” she asked.

Razorwing snorted. “The one you could hit me with if I don’t watch my mouth.”

Scootaloo chuckled and went back to bolting a new pedal in place. “Thanks for helping drag this thing into the shop. Where’d the big guy go?”

“I don’t know. He said something about… revisiting fond memories? Something sappy like that.”

After another burst of laughter, Scootaloo said, “You remind me a lot of Rainbow Dash.”

Razorwing rolled his eyes. “Yeah, not the first time I’ve heard that.”

Scootaloo shot him a quizzical look. “Huh?”

“Nothing.”

Mare Do Well smiled to herself from the shadows, then snuck away from Scootaloo’s workshop and muttered to herself under her breath. “Revisiting fond memories… where would you go in Ponyville, Harness?”

When the Moon rose high enough to light the streets, Mare Do Well dove to darker corners, careful not to catch the eyes of any citizen staying up to tidy what the zebras left behind. She stared at the rising Moon for a long moment. The spots on its surface blended with the spots on Harness’ coat in her mind, and for a moment she tried to remember how the Moon looked before Nightmare Moon’s return.

Nightmare Moon…

“Oh my gosh…”

She kicked up a trail of dirt on her way out of the city, past the empty main square and toward an unfrequented clearing outside of town. She slowed as she approached the seasonal statue of Nightmare Moon and the large stallion waiting at its base.

“That didn’t take long,” Harness said as Mare Do Well trotted closer. “Perhaps they should add ‘World’s Greatest Detective’ to your growing list of nicknames.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.” Mare Do Well’s eyes slid from the dark spot on his front hoof to the executioner’s mask over his face. “Pipsqueak?”

Harness grabbed the seam of the mask behind his ears and slid it off. A thick, two-tone brown mane lay over a youthful face with another large spot around one of his rich eyes. His mouth bore a tiny smile.

“Sweet Celestia,” said Mare Do Well. “I had no idea.”

“So we knew each other?” he asked. “Here, in Ponyville.”

“I knew you, yes.” Mare Do Well cleared her throat. “You’ve… grown up.”

Pipsqueak chuckled. “Though I must admit I’m curious, I’ll respect your wish to remain the Mysterious Mare Do Well. If it is, indeed, what you wish.”

“It is,” she said. “Thank you.” She took another step closer. “What happened to you?”

He bowed his head. “If you don’t mind terribly, that’s the secret I would like to keep.”

“Fair enough.”

“I lived in Ponyville but for a few years,” he said, glancing at the statue to his left. “My father took us to many cities across Equestria while I grew up. But when it came time for me to settle down, I admit I had a hard time choosing between Ponyville and Trottingham.”

“What made you pick Trottingham in the end?” asked Mare Do Well.

“I didn’t,” said Pipsqueak, smiling. “I wanted to live here. Ponyville is special, Mare Do Well. You must know that better than anypony. At least three of us have roots here, perhaps because we were lucky enough to live in the shadows of the greatest mares to ever walked its streets. No, I wanted badly to live in Ponyville, but… I was needed elsewhere.”

Mare Do Well nodded. “I never thought I’d leave Ponyville,” she said. “Especially not for Canterlot. But you’re right: we go where we are called.”

“You are a spectacular pony, Mare Do Well,” said Pipsqueak.

Mare Do Well blushed under her mask. “I… help where I can,” she said. “And, if we’re throwing around compliments, of all the vigilantes, you have impressed me the most.”

“Thank you. That means a great deal.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I suppose we ought to get some rest before we storm the royal castle, huh?”

Mare Do Well laughed softly. “I’ve snuck in before. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

“I get the feeling sneaking in won’t be our method of choice if the dragon comes along,” said Harness. “Not to mention Razorwing.”

“Ha!” Mare Do Well tossed her head back. “We have a good team. I think we’ll make a difference.”

“I hope so.” Harness pulled his mask back on. “To be honest, I’m quite afraid.”

Mare Do Well’s brow furrowed. “Of what?”

He shrugged. “I have a bad feeling. Not bad enough to abandon you, but… Princess Sparkle is powerful and very possibly mad. I can’t imagine this will be a trot in the park. We may get hurt.”

“You’re right. Of course you’re right. It’s all happening so fast. But I don’t know why we would wait any longer. We’re together, we’re angry… we have a dragon and maybe a zebra warlock on our side. I have no idea what Princess Sparkle is doing up there in her castle, but I reckon it’s time we find out.”

“You reckon?” said Harness.

Mare Do Well cracked her neck. “That conversation with Applejack must have been longer than I thought.”

Harness chuckled. “Of course it was.”

They trotted back to Ponyville together in the light of the brilliant Moon.


(/\/\)


Apple Bloom would have loved to sleep that night in Sweet Apple Acres. Unfortunately, the farmhouse had burned to the ground in the zebra invasion. Applejack slept at Fluttershy’s, and Apple Bloom secretly spent the night at Lyra’s.

“This was Harper’s room,” Lyra said as she opened the door. “It’s the only spare bed I have. I understand if you’d rather sleep on the couch.”

“No, that’s all right,” said Apple Bloom, pulling off the last of her costume and dropping it on the floor. She fell face first into the bed. “I’ve never been so tired in my life, Lyra.”

“You’ve had quite a day. Quite a week, really.” Lyra stroked Apple Bloom’s mane. “Poor filly. Maybe we should give it a few days before you—”

Apple Bloom shifted her head on the pillow. “Twilight has answers to questions we need to know right now,” Apple Bloom said. “Who knows how long the Tree o’ Harmony’s been dyin’? I’m surprised the forest hasn’t swallowed Ponyville whole.”

Lyra bit her lip. “I think there are more magical forces at work than we might realize. But I see your point.”

“Applejack brought Spike here from across the ocean,” said Apple Bloom, then paused for a long yawn. “Eeeuuaa! Can’t imagine he’ll be a secret here for long, assumin’ he’s a secret at all. We gotta hit the castle while we have the upper hoof.”

“But… tomorrow? You really want to go tomorrow?”

“We’ll see,” said Apple Bloom, closing her eyes. “Gets my vote, anyhow.”

Lyra smiled. “Well, all right, Bloom. I get it.” She pulled a blanket over Apple Bloom’s body. “Sleep well, okay?”

“Mmm hmmm…”

What seemed like seconds later, Apple Bloom sat bolt upright with a loud gasp. “Applejack!” she screamed.

Hurried hoofsteps pounded in the house, and the door burst open. “Apple Bloom! Are you okay?” Lyra asked, her mane messy.

Apple Bloom slid a hoof over her face, shielding her eyes from the light in the window. “Golly, is it mornin’ already? Sorry, Lyra, I guess I was dreamin’.”

Lyra sighed and put a hoof over her heart. “It’s fine, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well.”

Stretching, Apple Bloom climbed out of bed and offered a bleary smile. “I sure did. Thanks for accomodatin’ me.”

Lyra’s returned smile was as wild as her mane. “My pleasure. Now get dressed and come downstairs. I have some things for you.”

Apple Bloom sniffed and yawned, scratching an itch in her neck. “Ooohh, ouch…” she said as the muscles in her shoulders reminded her of their soreness. “Bear with me a bit longer,” she told them. “Today’s what it’s all been for.”

She wrapped herself in the violet costume that felt more like her skin than her yellow coat. Leaving off her mask and hat, she trotted out to find Lyra in the living room, hunched over an array of glittering gemstones on a white cloth on the ground.

“You made more?” asked Apple Bloom.

Lyra looked up, beaming. “I’ve been working on them for a while, but I stayed up all night and finished the batch.” She pointed to a piece of parchment on the coffee table. “There, study that when you can. Most of these are familiar, but there are a couple of new ones.”

Apple Bloom took up the sheet and read the description of each colored stone. “Wow… you sure these are gonna work?”

“Nope,” said Lyra, “but if they do, heh… talk about an upper hoof.”

Grinning, Apple Bloom tucked the paper into her utility belt. “Thanks, Lyra. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I want to help, Apple Bloom,” she said, scooping the gemstones into little piles. “We all have our parts to play, remember? I’m honored that mine is helping you.”

“Thanks. But let’s not get sentimental just yet.” Apple Bloom took a deep breath. “Today’s a big day. An unexpectedly big day.”

“And you have a lot to organize,” said Lyra. “Leave your belt and I’ll pack all this. Go make sure your ride is ready.”

Apple Bloom cocked an eyebrow. “The Wishin’ Well?” she asked.

“Oh… well, that too, if you want,” said Lyra, “but I was talking about Spike.”

> 21 - Holding It In
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
HOLDING IT IN


Spike met the vigilantes at the edge of the forest. His injured claw was paler than the rest of the scales on his body.

“Spike, you know that something is wrong with Twilight,” Mare Do Well said in a bold tone. “She’s not acting like the mare who raised you, the mare you love. Will you help us breach her castle and confront her directly? We need to know what happened to the Princess of Friendship.”

Eyes closed, Spike slowly nodded. “I will. I’ve thought of nothing else all night. I’ll admit, I’m terrified to know the truth. But, in the end, I’d rather know than hide while Equestria falls apart.”

“Thank you, Spike,” said Mare Do Well. She could see some of the other vigilantes celebrating in the corner of her eye.

A voice came from behind them. “And if you’ll let me come along, I too will fight to right this wrong.”

Mare Do Well turned to see Zimbaya, bandaged and bowing.

“Aren’t you, like, the king of zebras?” asked Razorwing. “What are they doing without you?”

“I am the leader of my tribe,” said Zimbaya. “Without me, they will yet survive.”

Razorwing shrugged. “Cool. I’m all for bringing a warlock as long as he keeps his creepy mask off.”

“Synapse,” said Mare Do Well, “do you have the staff?”

Synapse brought it out from under his cloak and gave it to Mare Do Well. She approached Zimbaya and stared him in the eyes.

“Twilight is to be questioned, not killed,” she said. “Do you understand that?”

Zimbaya’s face hardened. “Believe me, hero of purple and blue, I want more answers than any of you.”

Mare Do Well nodded before hoofing him the staff. As soon as he touched the wood, the glass ball at the top sparked with green bolts of lightning. The vigilantes twitched, but the magic simply rushed over the length of Zimbaya’s body. His bandages fell to the grass and he stood up straighter, stretching his neck.

“Ahhh…” he sighed, muttering something in his own language with a smile.

Razorwing blinked. “Ahem…” he said loudly, stretching out his spear-punctured wing. “Any chance you could render me airborne again, Invader Zim?”

Zimbaya pointed his staff. A gentle swirl of greenish magic passed through the hole in Razorwing’s armor, and the pegasus shuddered.

“Whoo-ho-ho-hoa!” Razorwing’s eyes rolled back. “That was amazing.” He did a quick backflip and flew circles around the little group. “Wow, it worked! Thanks, Zimmy!”

Kimbaya nodded, and Mare Do Well relaxed. 

“Good. We’re all here.” When Razorwing landed, Mare Do Well took in her strange new team. “I realize that we’ve not known each other for long,” she said, “but we are very clearly connected by more than just a desire to lift this nation back onto its hooves. We are inspired by the very best of Equestria, and disgusted by its worst. We have already shown each other our power and trusted each other with our lives. There is no reason to wait any longer.

“When I first put on this costume, I never thought to face Princess Sparkle myself. I believed I was starting a revolution, and that the ponies of Equestria would rise against her regime and demand a better world. I believed it was the only thing one mare could do.

“Now, I see that, in a way, I did begin a revolution, but of a very different sort than I expected. You five are the ponies that have risen from the masses to challenge Princess Sparkle. And now we have a mighty dragon and an impassioned warlock at our side. We are a force to be reckoned with, and the Princess will soon hear our demands. The Elements of Harmony will return to the hearts of all Equestrians, and the changes of the future will be welcome ones.”

“Woo!” Razorwing shouted during another backflip. “I’m pumped! Let’s do this!”

“For Equestria,” said Facetfire.

“For harmony!” said Spritemare.

“For the truth,” Harness said, stomping his hoof.

“For the truth,” echoed Spike, “and for Twilight. She’s still in there somewhere. I know it.”

“Then let’s find her,” said Mare Do Well, “and the Elements with her. Spike, do think you can carry four of us?”

Spike dropped heavily to his front claws and crouched low, extending one wing like a ramp for the equines. “Let’s find out,” he said with a long, toothy grin.


(/\/\)


Each flap of Spike’s enormous wings caused the air to tremble. Razorwing and Spritemare had to fly far above him to avoid the drafts, but it didn’t seem to bother Facetfire, soaring in her flames like a crackling comet.

Razorwing cupped his hooves around his mouth and shouted down to the ponies on Spike’s back. “This is awesome! We look so cool!” he said.

“The armored pony does not seem to realize this is not a dream,” said Zimbaya.

“He just gets excited,” said Mare Do Well. “But he’s a good fighter.”

“Hmm.” Zimbaya said nothing and peered over Spike’s spiny head at Canterlot. The castle’s marble shimmered in the Sunlight.

“Should we have waited until nightfall?” asked Harness.

“No reason,” said Mare Do Well. “It’s not as though we’re sneaking in.”

She heard a quiet chuckle under Harness’ mask and smiled.

“I’m not sure how much help I’ll be,” said Synapse, lying on his belly behind them.

Mare Do Well knelt in front of him. “You were tremendously helpful in Ponyville,” she said. “Stay out of the fray when you feel that you must, but don’t underestimate your value to us.”

Synapse snorted a laugh. “You sound like him,” he said, gesturing at Zimbaya.

“You may be the most powerful asset we have,” Mare Do Well said. “Don’t forget that.”

“I understand, really, but… something’s wrong,” he said, pointing to his horn. “I went into the forest to let out the magic I had absorbed from the cords, but… I don’t know, it doesn’t feel right.” He touched the jagged end of his horn and winced. “I’m going to be careful.”

“Please do.” Mare Do Well touched her hoof to his. “No need to push yourself past what you can do.”

Synapse nodded, then rested his head on his crossed hooves.

Mare Do Well moved to Harness’ side.

“Is he all right?” asked Harness.

“I hope so. Spike! We’re almost there! How would you like to proceed?”

“Dragon style, if you ponies don’t mind,” he called back.

“Dragon style? What does that mean?” yelled Razorwing.

“It’s loud, for one.”

With three strong pumps of his wings, Spike rose above Canterlot and dove toward the castle. His passengers grabbed onto whatever scales or spines were nearest them as the wind whipped through their manes and cloaks.

“Rrrraaaaaaauuuurrr!” Spike let out a stone shattering roar as he approached the castle. Gold plated guards leapt to attention all around it, staring bewildered at the sky.

“Yeeeeaaaah!” Razorwing rode the jet stream behind Spike’s lengthy tail. “Draaaagoon styyyyyllllle!”

Spike pulled open his wings and turned upright near the castle’s main entrance, clawing at the air with another menacing roar.

The equines jumped off his back and landed within the castle gates. Spike spun around and smashed in the castle doors with the blunt of his tail, right above the heads of the royal guards.

“Call in every able bodied soldier!” shouted a guard. “This is a Sun Class emergency! I repeat, Sun Class emergency!”

“Sound the alarm!” said another.

Within seconds, a magically amplified siren wailed to the Canterlot skies.

“Move!” said Mare Do Well. “Everypony inside as fast as you can!”

Spike swept a claw over the entrance, knocking aside several of the guards. From within poured many more, and the golden armor of reinforcements shone from the far sides of the castle, fast approaching.

Harness charged ahead, tackling guards and tearing away their armor with his powerful hooves. Facetfire frightened them with bursts of flame, keeping a white fire burning brightly around her body. Razorwing flew over them, tapping several of their helmets and cutting off chunks of their protruding manes.

Spritemare ran at a group of three guards. They snarled, ready to grab her, until four more of her burst out from her stripes. The guards squealed like fillies and ran from the flying zebras.

Mare Do Well jumped from soldier to soldier, kicking their heads as she went. Many of them fell unconscious in her wake, leaving a path for Synapse to follow.

At least thirty guards holding swords in their magic filled up the castle’s open doorway, shouting their own noble warcry. Zimbaya acted quickly, raising his staff above his head. Its glass ball flashed, and a wave of shadowy liquid crashed over them all, pushing them farther into the palace. The vigilantes rushed inside.

“Mare Do Well!” cried Spike.

She spun around in the splintered doorway and looked up at the dragon. “What is it?”

His face scrunched. “I… I can’t come with you.”

Mare Do Well nodded. “I understand, Spike. You knew Twilight better than anyone.”

“I mean, yes, but… I can’t fit.”

Mare Do Well looked up at the relatively small entryway. “Oh.”

“I’ll stop anypony from coming in behind you,” Spike said. “Good luck, Mare Do Well.”

She nodded, then followed her fellows into the castle. Spike clenched his fists and brought them down over the entrance. The roof and walls crumbled, blocking the path of approaching soldiers with heavy rubble.

Mare Do Well galloped out of its cloud of dust and skidded to a halt between the rest of the vigilantes. “What’s the delay?” she asked them.

Harness pointed onward. Mare Do Well followed his hoof with her eyes and gasped.

“Now might not be a good time to let you know I’m here,” said Lyra in Mare Do Well’s head, “but please excuse my language when I say: oh poopy.”

At the end of the palace’s entrance hall, standing at the foot of the double staircase that led to the throne room, Shining Armor glared at the vigilantes with glowing red eyes. Several guards stood at the ready behind him. Around his neck, visible just above his heavy gold-and-violet armor, was a bright red gemstone embedded in dark and decorative metal.

“The Alicorn Amulet,” Mare Do Well said aloud.

“I remember that thing,” Facetfire said in a whisper. “A showpony used one just like it to take over Ponyville when I was a filly.”

“It’s dangerous?” asked Harness.

“Extremely,” said Mare Do Well. “Be cautious, everyone.”

“Mare Do Well!” called Shining Armor. “We don’t have to do this. Leave the palace and destroy your suit. That goes for all of you. Let the Princess rule the nation her way. Things will improve with time.”

“Will they, Captain?” Harness shouted. “Can you promise me that?”

Shining’s glowing eyes narrowed. “Pip? Is that you?”

Harness took several long strides ahead of the crowd. “Have you buckled, then? Does she own you through and through?”

Shining bared his teeth. “Don’t say that, Pip! She’s my sister! She doesn’t own anypony.”

“But you’re not fighting back anymore, clearly. Maybe you never were.”

“How many civilian deaths have their been at the hooves of rogue guards in the last two years, Pip?” Shining asked. “How many rallies have ended in bloodshed? Zero! You know that? Zero! You think that’s an accident?”

“Whoa, wait, what’s going on?” asked Razorwing.

“I used to serve under Captain Armor in the Royal Guard,” said Harness. “He was on our side back then.”

“There is no your side and my side, Pip!” Shining pointed a shaking hoof. “I’ve worked my tail off to make this city safer and protect my sister from the likes of you. I never meant for it to seem that I was against her.”

“All those secret meetings, all those plans to shake things up. And for what? Just to waste another day under a silent Princess?”

“We weren’t shaking things up, Pip, we were calming things down! Trying to create a stable world!”

“Nothing’s stable out there, Shining!” Harness yelled. The sound was rough and surprising. “Ponies are living miserably and dying miserably. Things need to change now, not in a hundred years when nopony remembers what she used to be! Whatever Twilight thinks she’s doing is wrong!”

“Her name is Princess Sparkle!” Shining screamed back, and unleashed a burning blast of magic at the group of vigilantes.

Synapse rolled forward and caught the magic. It swirled around him while his broken horn drank it in; all the while a strange whine rose in pitch. He smashed his horn into the gleaming tile beneath their hooves. A glowing crack surged through the floor and exploded under Shining Armor and his guards.

Shining quickly formed a shield around himself, but the others were thrown by the blast, landing all over the hall. Shining growled at their writhing bodies and galloped at the vigilantes.

Synapse stumbled backward, holding his horn with one hoof.

Mare Do Well jumped in front of him. “Get ready, everypony! This is good practice!”

“Are you sure we can do this?” Facetfire squeaked.

“We can overwhelm him,” said Mare Do Well. “Fly at him, Facetfire! As fast as you can!”

Facetfire grimaced, but quickly obeyed. Her body burst into sizzling flames and she shot at Shining Armor like a cannonball.

Shining stopped his charge and jumped to one side as Facetfire blazed past him.

“Spritemare, go!”

“He won’t kill any of us,” said Harness. “He’s a good stallion.”

“Counting on it,” said Spritemare. Her clones returned and flew at Shining like giant killer bees. He made another shield around himself and shocked the clones with bolts of red lightning. They seized up and dropped to the floor immobilized.

“Ah!” Spritemare shouted next to Mare Do Well. She clutched her shoulder. “I… I always feel what they do, but that was worse than usual.”

Lyra shouted in Mare Do Well’s mind, “Time to try out the zebra stone, Bloom!”

“You sure?” Mare Do Well asked.

“When else are you gonna use it? Go, go, go!”

Mare Do Well pulled a striped gemstone from her belt and swallowed hard. “Hold still,” she said to Spritemare.

“Huh?” 

Mare Do Well smacked the stone against the ground and stabbed its pointiest edge into Spritemare’s shoulder. 

“Yoouch!” Spritemare screamed, flinching away from Mare Do Well. “What was that?”

“Uhhh…” Mare Do Well lifted the hat off her own head and dropped it over Spritemare’s braids.

“It’s a blend of two spells, one for enhanced focus and one for duplication,” said Lyra. “Usually the duplication spell is used for little things, like keeping a copy of a letter or conjuring extra coffee, but I bet you’ll make better use of it.”

“Wait, you’re the special magic in Mare Do Well’s hat?” Spritemare asked. “Aren’t you that snappy green unicorn in Ponyville?”

“Sure am! Now watch out!”

Spritemare ducked under a red bolt from Shining Armor. Mare Do Well stood fast between Shining and Synapse, while Razorwing and Harness slowly flanked Shining at a distance.

As the magic spread through her blood, Spritemare’s brain felt like it was breathing. “Whoa…”

“I can feel it, too. Hope that means it’s working.” Lyra cleared her throat. “Mind putting me back on Mare Do Well?”

A hoof reached down from above without Spritemare moving a muscle, transferring the hat back to its proper owner. By the time Lyra could see through Mare Do Well’s eyes, the space above their heads was filled with more tailless zebras than either of them could count.

“Oh my gosh…” said Mare Do Well.

“I think it worked!” chirped Lyra.

Spritemare stood stock still, her hooves spread wide. Behind her mask, her eyes were flitting around wildly. Her long, thin braids twitched in rhythm with her slowing heartbeat.

“I didn’t just kill her, did I?” asked Mare Do Well.

Spritemare lifted her head and stared at Shining Armor, who was slowly backing toward a pillar. The swarm over her head moved like a storm of locusts, covering Shining’s shield in layer after layer of stripes. Though he tried to shock them away, every zebra hit by his lightning vanished, replaced by another one that quickly joined the battle.

“I can’t tell if this is awesome or disgusting!” shouted Razorwing over the sound of the zebras’ wings.

Mare Do Well pointed at the mass. “Get in there, Razorwing! You too, Harness, go!”

“Nyyeuugh, I hope I don’t have weird dreams about this!” said Razorwing. He galloped at the ball of Spritemares, which parted to make way for him. Harness received the same welcome on the other side. Just as they disappeared into the swarm, Mare Do Well heard a shattering sound, followed by shouts and grunts of struggle.

“Can you tell me what’s going on in there, Spritemare?” she asked.

Spritemare was silent, her braids bouncing in an invisible wind.

A red blast exploded from Shining Armor, throwing back the zebras and Razorwing. Harness had latched his forehooves around Shining’s middle, trying to break off his armor. Shining grabbed the stallion in a red aura of magic and pushed him away. Occupied, he didn’t notice the ball of fire launch at him from behind.

Harness dove away just in time. The fireball hit Shining’s flank and set aflame his tail. Shining yelped and put out the fire with his magic as thirty or so zebra’s tackled him one by one, smashing him into the ground. More red lightning arced from both his horn and the Alicorn Amulet around his neck, but the zebras reappeared faster than he could obliterate them.

“Take the amulet!” Mare Do Well yelled to Harness.

He made his way through the Spritemares and reached for the amulet, but as soon as he touched it he was thrown high into the air.

“I don’t think anyone can remove it but the wearer!” said Lyra as Harness dropped hard to the ground.

Mare Do Well felt a hoof on her shoulder. She turned, expecting Synapse, but instead found the stony face of King Zimbaya.

“Tell your friends to stand away,” he said. “Let me stop him, if I may.”

Mare Do Well nodded. “Harness, Razorwing, Facetfire, get back!” she yelled, then whispered to Spritemare, “I’m hoping you’ll know what to do.”

Zimbaya approached Shining Armor slowly. With every step, he raised his staff a little higher. Its green glow began to rival the light from the Amulet.

“Who are you?” Shining asked. He struggled against the zebras, pulling a hoof free only to have it grabbed by three more of them. “What is that thing? No! Don’t kill me, please! Don’t kill me!”

Zimbaya closed his eyes as he strode on, chanting to himself in his rhythmic language. The glass ball above him brightened to a blinding gleam, forcing the vigilantes to look away.

“He’s not gonna kill him, is he?” Lyra asked.

“Yuuuuureeeeeeebee kuwe peeehhh-taaaaa!” shouted Zimbaya, standing on his hind legs to lift the staff as high as he could.

Shining Armor screamed.

Zimbaya twirled the staff behind him, spun around once, and lanced it forward to tap against the red gem in the Alicorn Amulet.

The entire room went completely, supernaturally silent. Mare Do Well peeked beyond her hat. The staff and the amulet were molding together in a quivering, molten glob of magic. Their lights had both gone white, along with Shining Armor and Zimbaya’s eyes.

A massive shockwave accompanied the shattering of both the staff and the Amulet, pushing every onlooker to the walls of the great hall. Spritemare’s clones evaporated, and Zimbaya collapsed in front of Shining Armor, both of them motionless.

“Sun above…” said Razorwing, plastered flat against a wall.

Mare Do Well peeled herself from stone and looked around for Synapse. The moss-colored stallion was breathing hard by the rubble of the entrance. She galloped to him and helped him to his hooves. “Are you all right?” she asked.

He nodded, though he was in no state to speak.

“Stay here,” said Mare Do Well, and she sprinted to the center of the room.

Zimbaya was groaning, but his eyes were open.

“Can you stand?” she asked him. Zimbaya nodded, so she helped him up, wary of Shining Armor lying very near them on his back.

Harness limped to join them. “Your staff,” he said. “Is it…?”

“Power takes power to put in the past,” he said. “Nothing so dangerous ought to long last.”

“So the staff and the Amulet,” said Razorwing from behind them. “They’re both gone?”

Zimbaya smiled. “I hear in your voice that the thought makes you sad, but trust me: the loss of them isn’t so bad.” He looked into Mare Do Well’s eyes. “Without it, however, I’ll be of no aid. You must face the Princess yourselves, I’m afraid.”

Mare Do Well sighed. “I understand. Thank you for your help.”

Facetfire got their attention with an exasperated cough. “We could barely beat a normal unicorn with a fancy necklace,” she said. “How are we supposed to go up against the Alicorn that raises the Sun and Moon?”

“We don’t have to beat Twilight,” said Mare Do Well. “We just need her to listen.”

“Please…” Shining Armor groaned. 

Everypony stepped back and looked down at him.

“Please,” he said again, “don’t hurt her.”

Mare Do Well crouched next to Shining. “We won’t. I don’t even know if we can.”

He chuckled weakly. “You can. Oh, believe me, you can.” He closed his eyes as tears began to drip from their corners and stream to the floor. “Twily… she’s not evil. Sh-she’s not some monster, like everypony thinks. She’s just scared. She’s so confused.”

“So are we,” said Razorwing, “but we haven’t sent Equestria into a horrific downward spiral.”

Shining groaned in pain and rested his head to the side. “Twilight has made… mistakes. Many terrible choices. But she’s not evil. Please, don’t hurt her. She just… needs help.”

“You’re not dying, are you, Captain?” asked Harness.

Shining managed another laugh. “No. But I don’t think I’m getting up for a while. Even if I do, I won’t follow you in there.”

“I will stay here to ensure he does not,” said Zimbaya to Mare Do Well. “Please, for Zecora, go find what we sought.”

“Go ahead, face her if you must,” said Shining Armor. “Just remember, Twilight’s as confused as you. She doesn’t have the answers you’re looking for.”

Mare Do Well faced the curving staircases. “We’ll see about that.”


(/\/\)


Apple Bloom missed the Cutie Mark Crusaders.

She spent nearly all her time with Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, of course, but… it was different. Their Cutie Marks had come with their fair share of new adventures alongside new and unexpected problems.

She was bored. In the end, that’s what it came down to. She knew her special talent, and she painted whenever she could. Making art was a beautiful experience and gave her feelings of purpose that nothing else could, but it wasn’t enough. Living with purpose was such a different experience that crusading for it.

These thoughts weighed down her mind while she slurped a hay smoothie at Sugarcube Corner, watching Pinkie Pie flit around the place fulfilling orders and entertaining customers. But there was something off about her. Maybe Apple Bloom was projecting her own feelings onto Pinkie, or maybe her mind was attuned to locate other crusading souls. Either way, she waited for a quiet moment, and then approached the counter where Pinkie was counting the bits in the register.

“Thirty nine, forty, forty one, forty two…” she was saying when Apple Bloom caught her eye. “Oh, hi there, Apple Bloom! Gosh, you’re getting taller every day!”

“Incrementally, yeah, I s’pose that’s true,” she said, grinning.

“Pssshh! Miss Big Words McSmarty Head, over here. When are you going off to college, anyway?”

“Not for a few years yet, Pinkie. Say, I gotta ask… is something bothering you?”

Pinkie smiled, but her eyes didn’t change. “Pshaw! Of course not! Why?”

Apple Bloom sighed. “I don’t know, I can just… tell, I guess. You’re not quite yourself lately. A little less bouncy and a little more thinky, maybe?”

Pinkie blinked a few times, then snorted loudly. “Oh, Apple Bloom. You’re so much like your sister it’s weird sometimes!” She sighed and rested her cheek in one hoof. “Yeah, okay, fine. I guess I’m a bit preoccupied, if we’re on the topic of big dumb words.”

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

Pinkie bit her lip. “I… don’t wanna say. Not here. Got any time to spare?”

Apple Bloom nodded and, invited with a sneaky beckon, followed Pinkie Pie up to her room.

“Okay,” Pinkie said in a whisper, checking the hallway before closing her door. “What I’m about to show you is top secret. I haven’t told anypony else, and I’m not gonna!”

“Whoa, really?” Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow. “Why’re ya showin’ me, then?”

“I don’t know, ‘cause you’re a good kid?” Pinkie shrugged. “None of my friends would understand, especially not Twilight. But I know you won’t tell, right, Apple Bloom?”

“Pinkie Promise,” she said, crossing her heart with a hoof and pressing it into her eye.

Pinkie giggled. “Good. Okay… you might wanna sit down.”

“Huh? Why?”

Beaming, Pinkie Pie opened a painting on her wall like the door to a safe and revealed a big red button. She smacked it with full force, and the entire wall in front of Apple Bloom slid into the ground, revealing a blue-lit laboratory filled with shining machinery, rows of strange potions, and an enormous board covered in pinned equations, pages from ancient books, and detailed diagrams.

Apple Bloom’s jaw dropped and she stumbled to her haunches.

Pinkie laughed again. “Better late than never!” she said.


(/\/\)


Though the throne room was lined with four brightly colored stained glass windows, it somehow seemed lifeless and dark. The strip of carpet leading from the doors to the throne itself was black. At its end, slumped in the regal chair, was Princess Sparkle, a far different mare than the bookish neighbor Mare Do Well had grown up knowing.

Twilight’s limbs and snout were as long as Celestia’s. Her mane and tail flowed out in an ethereal nebula, glittering with stars like Luna’s, but colored with shades of indigo and pink. Her Cutie Mark, though large, looked dull, and her slanted eyes would have been beautiful if not for the bags underneath them and the choking darkness behind.

“What do you want, Mare Do Well?” she asked in a slow, tired voice. Its timbre was the most familiar thing about her.

“Where are the Elements of Harmony?” Mare Do Well responded immediately.

Despite being at opposite ends of the long, narrow throne room, neither party needed to shout to be heard. The acoustics carried their voices as if over the surface of water.

Twilight snorted. “I don’t know where the Elements are.”

“Yes, you do.” Mare Do Well took one step forward. The vigilantes behind her followed suit. “You sent Princess Celestia and Princess Luna to the Moon. Only the Elements have the power to do that. You took them from the Tree.”

“I did no such thing,” spat Twilight, finally lifting her eyes to frown at them. “I banished them by my own power. I am a thousand times the alicorn Celestia ever was, exactly as she designed me to be.”

Razorwing tilted his head. “Huh?”

“I have no need for the Elements, and neither does Equestria. If that’s all this is about, you can turn around and go back to the ponies who praise you.”

“The Tree of Harmony is dying, Twilight,” said Mare Do Well. “The entire nation is in danger.”

Twilight barked a cold laugh. “Oh, please. The Tree of Harmony is nothing more than another of Celestia and Luna’s machines. Don’t you understand? Ponies don’t need the Elements. They aren’t the natural fruit of a magical tree, they were created by wicked sisters who sought to rule Equestria and saw an opportunity during Discord’s reign.”

Mare Do Well’s throat dried. “What are you talking about?”

“Where were the Elements during the founding of Equestria, hm? Waiting in an ancient tree? How did Celestia and Luna discover them? Stumbled upon them in a cave right next to their castle? How wonderfully convenient.” Twilight scowled. “The Elements of Harmony were fabricated. They are a lie created by dictators who sought nothing but control. They are a cage within which powerful ponies want their underlings to live.

“But ponies are not meant to be caged. Ponies are free beings with ranging desires. They ought to be left to their own devices and learn about life for themselves, not dragged through perfect lessons until they are exactly the product that their perfect leaders demand them to be!”

“That’s nonsense!” shouted Harness. “The Princesses loved this world.”

“They loved ruling this world,” Twilight said, “but ponies were not meant to be controlled by those with power. Each pony is a power unto itself.”

“Celestia and Luna used their power to keep Equestria safe,” said Spritemare.

“Did they, now?” Twilight jaw jutted forward. “And my friends and I, we were just, what, tools in the hooves of the Alicorns? They were powerless. Yes, they had enough magic to keep the cycles of day and night in motion, and for that they were revered as goddesses, but the moment they perceived any threat to their power—be it from each other or from an innocent filly failing her entrance exam—they devised subtle plots, using any means necessary, to maintain control.” She looked away, shaking her head. “That was their true power, I suppose. Planning. Immortality offers few joys, but patience and foresight are some of them.”

“Why would the Princesses do that, Twilight?” Mare Do Well asked. “It doesn’t make any sense. What would be the purpose of maintaining control if not to help others?”

Twilight’s eyes hollowed. “Ponder the reality of eternal life, then ask me that question again.” She sighed heavily. “When you cannot die, your choices are simple: become a monster, or become a god.”

“Your decision was obvious,” Razorwing grumbled.

Twilight began to twitch. “I am no monster, nor am I a god! I raise the Sun, I raise the Moon, and that is all!” She pointed to the world beyond her castle. “I exercise no control over these ponies, I allow them to do what they will! It’s not my fault that guards kill and gangs rise. This is the real world, a world without the machines of the Alicorns. Alicorns are in the wrong. They are freaks of nature, the cancer of our kind. Celestia and Luna were emotionless shells, terrified of their own lives! I have rid this world of those dictators, and for this you all hate me!”

“Celestia and Luna were our Princesses,” said Mare Do Well. “You, Twilight, are the dictator.”

“No!” Twilight shrieked. Her horn flashed, and a beam of magic shot at Mare Do Well. She dove out of the way, and the vigilantes rushed to various tactical corners of the room.

“Why am I the only one cursed to understand?” Twilight shouted. A freezing wind swirled around the room. “Ponykind had purpose before the rise of Alicorns. They worked hard, and worked together. That is Harmony, not this sickening city of bureaucrats and the upper class judging those below the mountain! Tiering ponies was just another method of controlling them, don’t you see?”

“You’ve spent far too much time thinking about this alone, Twilight,” said Mare Do Well. “Equestria was a better place under the Princesses. Ponies were happy. How can that be bad?”

“They were living under lies!” Twilight screamed, shooting more magic from her horn. The vigilantes jumped and dodged, skirting along the edges of the throne room. “Happiness without truth is a deplorable way to live!”

“Is it?” asked Spritemare. “Even if the Princesses were trying to stay in control, if it resulted in the safety and happiness of their subjects, were they really doing wrong?”

“Their methods were banishment and assimilation,” said Twilight. “Get rid of threats, or turn them into copies of yourselves. Look what they did to me!” Her horn glowed brightly, and the entire castle shattered above them. Each broken section of the walls burst into flames. “Look what they did to me!” Twilight screamed again in a multi-layered voice.

In an instant, the castle came back together, as though nothing had happened.

Twilight stared daggers at Spritemare. “I am immortal! I am omnipotent! And they would have me bow to them while my friends died at their hooves!”

“Twilight, calm down!” shouted Mare Do Well. “You’re wrong about that! The Princesses didn’t kill Pinkie Pie!”

“I expected more of you, Applejack!” Twilight cried. “Surely you could see through their lies? Of all the ponies who loved her, surely you could see!”

Mare Do Well’s heart beat faster as her eyes went out of focus.


(/\/\)


“Golly, Pinkie… what is all this?” Apple Bloom eyed the blue-tinted room and approached one of the strange, chrome machines.

Pinkie squealed delightedly and wrapped Apple Bloom in a random hug. “Oh, I’m so happy to finally show somepony! I’ve been collecting this stuff for years, ever since Twilight became the Princess of Friendship.”

Apple Bloom gave a closer look to the diagrams in the back. “Are those alicorns?” she asked.

“Alicorn anatomy, yeah,” she said. She hopped to the back and pointed to an alicorn with its limbs spread inside a circle. “This one’s called the Vishooveian Pony. Alicorns fit perfectly inside a circle and a square! Isn’t that crazy?”

Chuckling, Apple Bloom said, “This is all pretty crazy, Pinkie, but I’ve come to expect that from you, I guess. What’s this all for?”

Pinkie grabbed Apple Bloom’s cheeks between her hooves and looked deep into her eyes. “This is the secret part. What I’m about to tell you, you can’t tell anypony else. Ever! Unless it works. Okay?”

Apple Bloom winced. “Unless what works?”

“Apple Bloom… I want to be an alicorn.” Pinkie lifted her hooves above her head and beamed from ear to ear. “Ta-daaa! Isn’t that exciting!?”

Apple Bloom cocked an eyebrow. “What?”

“I wanna be an alicorn!” Pinkie said again. “Twilight did it, so why can’t I?”

“Uhh… because Twilight’s a unicorn?” Apple Bloom suggested.

Pinkie waved a hoof. “Pfff! Unicorn shmoonicorn. Earth ponies have just as much magic as the next guy. We just don’t have a way to channel it. But, see, that’s exactly what I’m working on here.” She pointed to one of the machines. “This is a replica I’ve been building of an ancient device that’s said to have turned Celestia and Luna into the first alicorns.”

“A device? Pinkie, I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“I know, right? Neither did I! But it turns out, according to these old books I found—” She smacked her hoof against some yellowed pages pinned to the board. “—chaos magic has a really hard time against biometric machinery. Apparently, blending machine and life creates some weird balance of chaos and order, so neither form of magic does much to them.” She shrugged. “Anyway, some really smart ponies built machines that would give the traits of all three pony races, and I guess back then they believed in, like, power in threes or something? So they were pretty dang desperate to stop Discord, they thought a three-bee super pony would help, and voila! They made alicorns!”

Apple Bloom had to smile at Pinkie’s enthusiasm, if nothing else.

“And if they could do it, so can I, right? I’ve gathered the ingredients with the knowledge I’ve accrued, so… why not try, at least?”

She looked to Apple Bloom pleadingly. Her huge blue eyes glistened with desire.

“Where’d you get these things?” Apple Bloom asked, tapping the base of the chrome machine.

“I made this one!” Pinkie stuck out her tongue and rubbed her elbow on on a smudge in its shine. “This stuff grows all around the Ancient Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters. Isn’t it cool? It’s, like, part plant, part science!” Pinkie giggled.

“Gosh, Pinkie.” Apple Bloom shrugged. “I don’t really know what to say about all this.”

“Say that you’ll help me!” Pinkie shouted. “Come on, Apple Bloom! I have everything we need, but there are a lot of experiments to try and I can’t put everything together on my own. Won’t you help me?” She leaned in and whispered, “Of course, we’d have to keep it waaaay on the down low, but… it could be fun!”

Apple Bloom’s mind was reeling. Was it even possible? If there was a pony on Equus that could turn herself into an alicorn, she thought, it was Pinkie Pie. And even if it didn’t work, what was the difference between crusading for a Cutie Mark and crusading for wings and a horn? Maybe this was exactly the kind of adventure she’d been thirsting for.

“Y’know what, Pinkie?” Apple Bloom grinned. “I will help you. Why not? Let’s make you an alicorn!”

“Weeeeee!” Pinkie jumped in the air and clicked her back hooves at least eleven times before coming back down. “Hahaha! That’s the best news ever! Thank you, Apple Bloom, thank you, thank you!”

“Calm down, Pinkie!” Apple Bloom yelled, but she was smiling, too.


(/\/\)


“Calm down, Twilight!” Mare Do Well yelled. “I’m not Applejack, and you’re not the Princess of Dusk. Shining Armor was right, we’re all very confused. There’s something we’re missing. Let’s stop fighting and figure it out.”

“What are you doing, Mare Do Well? Haven’t you been listening to her?” asked Facetfire. “She’s insane! There’s no reasoning with her. We need to take her down!”

“Weren’t you the one doubting we could do anything at all?” Razorwing said. “Now you want to kill her after seeing her destroy and reassemble her own palace in seconds?”

“Facetfire is right, she’s too dangerous,” said Harness. “Our only hope for Equestria is to appoint new leadership, and I don’t think she’ll agree to that peacefully.”

“She’s immortal! What do you expect us to do, send her to the Moon?”

“Could we?” asked Facetfire. “Synpase, could you do that?”

“Synapse is in no shape to be arguing, let alone sending alicorns to the Moon!” Mare Do Well shouted.

“Could… could he really do that?” asked Twilight Sparkle.

The vigilantes shot surprised looks at her.

“Yes, he could!” said Facetfire. “He absorbs magic and spits it back out! He could stop you!”

“Facetfire, shut up!” yelled Spritemare.

Twilight’s eyes flashed. Her horn began to glow with intense light. “Fools! If you believe yourselves capable of carrying harmony to the hearts of Equestria, do so at your own peril! Alicorns were never meant to walk this world, and now it shall finally be free of them!”

The magic warbled around her horn, growing into an enormous, teardrop shaped aura that she launched unhindered at Synapse.

“No!” screamed Mare Do Well.

Synapse caught the magic around him. It swirled, ebbed, and sparked over his body while his broken horn drank it in. When all of the magic had sucked into his horn, Synapse looked at Mare Do Well. His sparking eyes were heavy with sadness. Seconds passed, and his body began to shake uncontrollably.

“What’s happening?” asked Facetfire. “Shoot it back! Banish her!”

Synapse grit his teeth and stared directly at Twilight. She brought a foreleg to her chest, her face painted with fear.

“This,” said Synapse, “is not the way.”

The light in his eyes went out, and he crumpled where he stood. The room was quiet. Mare Do Well galloped to Synapse and felt his pulse.

“He’s gone,” she said softly. She looked at Harness. “He’s dead.”

“He held it in,” muttered Spritemare. “It was too much, and he held it in.”

Twilight stepped off her throne and backed into one of the colored windows. Her tired eyes were enormous, shocked. She dropped to her haunches and let her wings hang limp at her sides. As tears began to fall from her snout, she bowed her head and wept.

“Yeah…” said Razorwing in a very quiet voice. “I know how that feels.”

The other vigilantes said nothing. They gathered together near the throne. No one breathed. Twilight cried in silence.

“Why, Applejack?” Twilight asked. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“I told you, Twilight. I’m not Applejack.”

“Oh boy,” said Lyra. “I see where this is going. Good luck. I’ll talk to you later.”

Mare Do Well lifted the hat off her head and dropped it at her side. With a shaking hoof, she pulled down her mask and revealed her face. “I’m Apple Bloom.”

“Buh!?” said Razorwing.

Facetfire’s eyes bulged. “No way!”

“Apple Bloom?” Twilight blinked, shaking her head. “But… but I thought…”

“I came to Canterlot for school and found it in shambles,” Apple Bloom said in her real voice. “My friend Harper was murdered in cold blood for no good reason. I had to do somethin’, Twilight. I never intended to face you like this, but when others joined me and we realized exactly how bad it’s gotten, I had no other choice.”

Twilight swallowed hard. Her breathing was shaky. “I don’t understand. How did you know about Pinkie Pie?”

“Who is Pinkie Pie?” asked Spritemare.

“She was one of my dearest friends,” said Twilight. “She embodied the Element of Laughter. She was a truly remarkable mare, full of love and energy and life.”

“I remember when she died,” said Facetfire. “It was horrible. Ponyville was so sad for months, and nopony knew how it happened. There wasn’t even a proper funeral.”

“Pinkie Pie was killed,” Twilight said. “She was killed by the Princesses because she was trying to turn herself into an alicorn.”

“No, Twilight,” Apple Bloom said, pushing through tremors in her voice. “You have it all wrong. The Princesses didn’t kill Pinkie Pie. I did.”


(/\/\)


“Ready? Setty? Now!”

Apple Bloom dumped two vials of liquid into the top of the machine. She scurried down the stepladder and dropped to the Everfree Forest floor, diving behind a nearby boulder as fast as she could. She waited for some kind of sound: an explosion, a sizzle, a metallic whine, any or all of the crazy noises these experiments had produced over the last two months.

But nothing came. Apple Bloom poked her head over the rock and sighed. Pinkie Pie lay on her belly in the machine, lightly squished between two rounded metal plates like an uncooked panini.

Pinkie looked sad. “Nothing?” she asked.

Apple Bloom shook her head. “Nothin’.”

Pinkie groaned and slid out of the machine, flopping onto the ground and staring at the treetops. “That’s the last mixture I could think of for this machine. Darn it!” She pounded her hind hooves on a pile of leaves. “I thought for sure this would be the one.”

“Well, how many more machines could it be?” asked Apple Bloom. “We’ve tried nearly a dozen.”

Pinkie rolled over and shook dirt out of her mane. “Ehhh, what’s the point? Thanks for trying to help me, Apple Bloom, but… clearly I’m not meant to be an alicorn.” She drooped like a dying flower.

“Awww, don’t say that, Pinkie.” Apple Bloom trotted closer. “Why do you wanna be an alicorn, anyway?”

“Uh, duh! Because alicorns are amazing!” She wrapped one foreleg around Apple Bloom’s shoulder and pointed to the sky with the other. “Flight! Magic! Wisdom! Alicorns have it all, baby!” She stepped away and adopted a much milder kind of smile. “Besides… Twilight’s going to be lonely by herself when… y’know, in a couple thousand years, she’ll miss us. If I can figure out how to turn myself into an alicorn, then maybe she won’t have to.”

Apple Bloom smiled. “That’s a mighty sweet thought, Pinkie. But… maybe that’s just somethin’ Twilight’ll hafta figure out on her own.”

Pinkie Pie sighed. “Maybe. I won’t give up just yet. I’ll put another machine together and get a hold of you when it’s ready. Eeee-if you still want to help, of course.” Pinkie batted her eyelashes over big, blue eyes.

Chuckling, Apple Bloom nodded. “Sure thing, Pinkie Pie. I understand. The crusade ain’t over ‘til it’s over.”


(/\/\)


“It was… horrible,” said Apple Bloom. “She was all… mangled. We must have been close… her bones were longer, and she had somethin’ like a horn and… somethin’ like wings.” She shuddered. “But… she didn’t survive it. And it was my fault.”

Twilight’s brow pressed heavily over her eyes. “But… the machine I found in the woods had been sabotaged. It was melted with magic, hidden under sticks and leaves.”

“I went straight to Applejack when she died,” Apple Bloom said. “I was shaken up somethin’ terrible. She’s a good sister. I made her do it, but… she helped me make it look like an accident. We melted down the machine with the leftover potions, not magic. Tried to hide it.”

“Apple Bloom…” Harness breathed.

“It was wrong, I know.” Apple Bloom began to cry. “I always knew, but now more than ever, it was wrong. I shoulda been honest straight away. None o’ this would’ve happened. But I was… I was so scared! I-I didn’t know what had happened, I didn’t know what to do! So I kept it a secret all these years. It’s eaten me alive.”

Twilight was speechless for a long time.

“I’m so sorry, Apple Bloom,” Razorwing said softly. “I should have talked to you… about Aether. Maybe we could have—”

“You did try to talk to me, Razorwing,” said Apple Bloom. “I wouldn’t let you. I was afraid it would come back to Pinkie Pie. I couldn’t bear to tell anypony.”

“I thought…” Twilight’s gaze was empty and unfocused. “All the evidence pointed to the Princesses. I thought they had killed her in her attempt to become an alicorn.”

“Why did you think that?” asked Spritemare. “Seems like a big jump.”

“I-I…” Twilight closed her eyes. “It was such terrible, terrible timing. Celestia had just told me her plans to appoint me ruler of Equestria while she and Luna explored the world for other civilizations. We had very frank conversations about her role in my life, about immortality. I asked specifically if my friends could become alicorns with me so we could live and rule together, the way she and Luna did. But she told me it was impossible.” She grit her teeth. “She told me I would have to watch them die, but that I’d get used to it. That I would always remember them.”

“Surely she said it… in a kinder way than that,” said Harness.

Twilight rolled her leaking eyes. “Yes, of course she did. She had such a way with words, didn’t she?” Twilight’s anger caught in her chest and she doubled in on herself, sobbing.

“Don’t hate Celestia, Twilight. This is all my fault,” choked Apple Bloom. 

“I thought Pinkie Pie had found a way,” Twilight continued. “A way to stay with me. And that since it didn’t fit into Celestia’s perfect plans… they killed her!”

“It wasn’t them,” said Apple Bloom. “It was me, Twilight. I killed Pinkie Pie.”

“It was an accident,” said Harness. “Nopony killed her. She died. It was no more your fault than it was Celestia’s.”

“I was furious!” Twilight wailed. The ground shook with her words. “I hated them! I hated myself for believing in them!”

“I’m so sorry!” Apple Bloom cried.

“I banished them! For a thousand years, I banished them to the Moon!” Twilight collapsed, sobbing into her outstretched foreleg. “I banished them… to the Moon…”

As Twilight’s breathing steadied, while Apple Bloom’s tears dropped from her chin, a strange, warm light entered the throne room.

Like a living mist, the light twirled wistfully around them all. Rays made their way from one pony to the next, surrounding Twilight and the vigilantes in dancing ribbons of white.

“What…?” Twilight sat up, watching the magic in awe. “It can’t be…”

Apple Bloom traced the light back to Twilight’s own horn. “What is it?” she asked, sniffling.

Twilight shook her head. “It can’t be,” she said again.

Suddenly, all six of their bodies lifted into the air. The light brought them close together. A surge of calm energy filled them from head to tail, and for the briefest of moments their consciousness became one. 

Twilight hovered in the center. Her mouth hung open peacefully, as though she was asleep. And when she opened her glowing eyes, a blinding flash engulfed the chamber, and she felt something metal materialize behind her horn.
> 22 - EVERY DAY COUNTS
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
EVERY DAY COUNTS


“I-I don’t understand.” Razorwing touched the blue stone around his neck. “Element of Laughter? I don’t deserve this.”

Twilight smiled gently. “Do you make your friends laugh?”

“He makes me laugh,” Spritemare said.

Twilight nodded. “Then you deserve it.”

“Loyalty…” Spritemare said, stroking her own necklace. “I don’t feel very loyal.”

“You were the first to ask us for help,” said Razorwing, “and didn’t hesitate to fly all the way from Manehattan to help me with Falcon. That’s loyalty to me.”

Spritemare took off her mask and smiled at him.

“And you, big guy?” Razorwing asked, turning to Harness. “What’d you get, the Element of Beefiness?”

“Kindness,” said Twilight.

Razorwing snorted. “Psshh. Figures.”

“I am honored,” said Harness, bowing his head.

“So I got Generosity?” asked Facetfire. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Sometimes we must earn what we are given,” said Twilight. “My friends and I often strayed from the Elements we bore, but that only made the lessons we learned more meaningful in the end.”

“You kept Magic, I see,” said Razorwing, staring at Twilight’s crown. “Which leaves….”

All eyes turned to Apple Bloom, sporting an orange gem.

“Honesty,” she said flatly. “Must run in the family.”

“You told a difficult truth today, Apple Bloom,” said Twilight. “Without it, I may never have realized the error of my ways. You deserve that Element most of all. Thank you.”

Apple Bloom blinked away tears. “So what now? You’re good again, just like that?”

“I have much to learn,” said Twilight, “and much to sort out. Many of us have blood on our hooves.” She glanced painfully at Synapse’s body in the center of the throne room. “And there are many lives to honor. At the very least, you have reminded me of who I am and what Equestria needs. Perhaps you would even be generous enough to help me further.”

“Is that aimed at me?” Facetfire asked. “Or is it more of a group question?”

“Equestria needs to heal,” Harness said. “Having a strong leader will help, but it won’t go back to the way it was overnight.”

“It will never be exactly as it was,” Twilight said sadly.

“But we’re here,” said Spritemare. “And now we’re on the same page. You’ll help us make Equestria well again, Princess?”

Twilight looked to Apple Bloom. “Will Mare Do Well?” she asked in return.

Apple Bloom felt like she was going to vomit. Pinkie’s blue eyes wouldn’t leave her mind. She couldn’t look at anypony. “I’ll… I’ll try,” she said, unable to stop more tears from falling.

Twilight nodded, her expression solemn. “So will I. Even after all of you have gone, I will remember what you’ve done for me today.” She looked longingly at the throne. “My life is newly dedicated. I will prepare the world for the return of the Princesses.”

“Whoa. For a thousand years?” asked Razorwing.

“A little less than that, now.” Twilight sighed. “Every day counts.”

Apple Bloom nodded at that. She wiped her tears away and stood a little taller. “Let’s start with somethin’ simple, then. Mending fences, I guess you’d call it.”

Twilight winced. “Oh no. Is Applejack outside?”

Apple Bloom shook her head. “No. We’ll both have to get to that eventually. For now, you’ve got a surprise waitin’ for ya outside. A very big surprise.”

Twilight’s magic carefully lifted Synapse from the floor and laid him over Harness’ back. The Elements of Harmony left the throne room side by side in hopeful silence, ready—or nearly ready—for all of the changes their futures yet held.