"This is going to be the best Hearth's Warming Day in history!" exclaimed Discord, leaping high and sliding across the floor as bursts of confetti exploded wherever he went.
"It's the Festival of the Two Sisters Day..." muttered Spike without much enthusiasm, walking behind him. Big Mac was beside him.
They were standing in one of the open courtyards of Canterlot Castle, the place they had chosen as their meeting point to celebrate what used to be the Summer Sun Celebration.
"Minor details, Spike. What truly matters is that the three of us — the best group of friends in all of Equestria — are going to have the greatest holiday that three friends like us could possibly have on a day like this. Huraaaah!" declared Discord with a grin stretching from ear to ear, suddenly appearing behind them and wrapping them both in an embrace that resembled more an octopus attack than a hug.
"Eeeyup," replied Big Mac in his usual, steady tone.
Unlike his chaotic friend, Spike did not share the same enthusiasm.
"Well... it's really nice of you to be so excited about our get-together, Discord, and that you're being so inclusive with us today, uhmmm..." said Spike with clear suspicion, then frowned. "Although... I don't think I can feel the same way right now. Not after they canceled, at the last minute, the Ogres & Oubliettes tournament we were supposed to play this afternoon."
Still hugging them, Discord didn't seem fazed in the slightest. He released his friends and turned to Spike with a carefree expression.
"Ah, dear Spike, what a great pity! I know. But it doesn't matter. Today is a special day for everyone! Isn't this the kind of moment when one should leave their worries behind and go on to live unique experiences with their friends?"
"Well... that's true, Discord, but—"
"No buts! Let's go to the fair already and have fun like never before! There's nothing in this world that can stop the train of our friendship!" he proclaimed to the sky, and—with a snap of his fingers—in the blink of an eye, his body transformed into a bizarre living locomotive, with a face, horns, and puffs of green smoke coming out from the sides.
It was, without a doubt, a very bizarre-looking means of transportation. No one could blame Spike for hesitating before boarding. Yet Big Mac, with his classic "Eeeyup," stepped forward without hesitation and entered the hairy, fleshy train.
"Oooh! That tickles!" squealed Discord, twisting as he felt the farmer pony's heavy steps inside him.
Spike, still outside, barely managed to hide his look of disgust at Discord's exaggerated grimaces. However, seeing that Big Mac was already chatting comfortably with the draconequus and that nothing too discor-dant had happened yet, he decided to climb aboard as well.
With a snap of fingers, the group of friends (the train-Discord making all sorts of ambient noises) vanished in a flash of light, heading toward their next destination…
[---]
A soft and relaxing melody—repetitive yet fresh—filled every corner of the place...
The Grand Fair of Wonders of Canterlot was at its peak. Ponies of all sizes and colors moved along the cobblestone streets, marveling at the dazzling attractions offered by the various stalls. With extravagant names and little concern for their own categories, the shops kept the crowd spellbound, leading them from surprise to surprise —like the one displaying perplexing living room furniture whose only apparent purpose was to evoke an enigmatic aesthetic. Others showcased books of magic and fantasy written in forgotten tongues, collections of armor and weapons for the more adventurous, and even elegant clothes designed for species practically nonexistent in Equestria. Every corner of the fair harbored a different oddity, immersing visitors in a world of wonders and curiosities.
Chosen by Discord as the first stop in his "friendship crusade" that afternoon, the place was perfect.
At the head of the stroll, Spike felt more than delighted. Though it wasn't his first time visiting the fair, it was the first time he'd explored it freely, just with his friends. Their antics made everything even better. Like earlier, when a group of rope vendors caught Big Mac's attention and challenged him to a knot-tying contest. To everyone's surprise (except the vendors), the strong farmer ended up losing. Seeing Big Mac—with all his size and strength—unable to untie a small knot of pink rope between his hooves was exactly what Spike needed to lift his mood after the morning's disappointment.
As they advanced among the stalls, Spike proudly pushed a cart almost full of the strange items he had collected. Beside him, Big Mac walked silently, still examining the treacherous rope that had defeated him, which he had bought out of pure stubbornness.
With Twilight at his side, Spike would never have had the chance to squander his money so freely.
"Wow, look at that! That's a horseshoe the size of an elephant!" exclaimed Spike, pointing to a gigantic horseshoe displayed at a smithing stand.
"Eeeyup," confirmed Big Mac, snapping out of his focus on the rope.
"Umm... do you think if we painted it gold, Twilight might want it for the throne room?"
"Nope," Big Mac replied with absolute certainty.
"Yeah, you're right... though it would look great as decoration in a hall. Wait... I got it! Fluttershy's birthday is coming up soon. If I give it a more artistic touch, it'd be the perfect gift. She'd love it if I coated it in silver. Or... maybe wrap it in wool? Uhm... Discord, what do you think about a birthday present for Fluttershy? An elephant-sized horseshoe covered in silver wool... Discord?"
Spike and Big Mac looked around, finally realizing that Discord wasn't with them.
He hadn't been for several minutes now...
"Where's Discord?" asked Spike, startled.
Discord, who had been cheering them up with his antics ever since they arrived at the fair, had vanished without a word. That was unusual, since he always made a show of his departures. Besides, his behavior that day had been surprisingly polite—despite his chaotic nature and notorious record of questionable conduct. He had even given each of them gifts: the caramel apples they'd already eaten and the cart that Spike was now pushing.
For all those reasons, his sudden disappearance was unsettling... and worrying.
"Uhhmm," rumbled Big Mac in a grave tone at Spike's question. Without another word, he pointed a hoof toward the path they had taken earlier.
Spike understood right away.
"Good idea, Big Mac. Let's go back the way we came. Maybe Discord found something interesting we missed," he said, trying to sound optimistic and burying his unease. Maybe I'm just overthinking things...
"Eeeyup," replied the large stallion. And with that, the two friends retraced their steps, zigzagging through the fair's streets, dodging passersby, and once again marveling at the exotic rarities that appeared here and there.
After stopping several times to look around and wait for the crowds of ponies to pass, they finally reached the center of the fair—the very spot where they had first appeared, thanks to Discord's magic.
"See him anywhere?" asked Spike, peering over the pile of rare goods stacked in his cart.
"Nope," answered Big Mac, scanning in different directions.
Spike took his cart and moved slightly northward, toward the section of the fair they hadn't yet explored.
"Could he have gone for some exotic food?" he wondered aloud, not really caring if anyone heard. On that side of the fair, most of the stalls sold dishes and drinks from other kingdoms, in addition to the usual fare for the public.
Still hesitating whether to go or not, Spike stopped next to a lamp post. With an agile leap, he climbed to the top and surveyed the areas they hadn't yet explored.
From above, the fair's music—enveloping and monotonous—kept spinning in its endless loop...
Then, a shiver ran through his body.
While scanning the northern section, something caught his peripheral attention: a fleeting flash among the stalls, accompanied by an unmistakable sense of latent discomfort.
"... what?"
Spike couldn't help but grimace as he noticed the strange figures hanging just a few meters ahead of him. Still surprised by what he had found, he rubbed his eyes and, driven by an inexplicable curiosity, descended in flight to take a closer look.
It was a ghastly sight.
On the other side of the fair's central plaza, from a lamp post similar to the one he had been on moments ago, a great number of figures hung in the air, suspended by clotheslines that resembled gallows.
"Come and get your Fantasy Puppets! Unique in all of Equestria! A gift your spoiled little ones at home will surely adore!" shouted a grayish-brown old pony cheerfully as he attended the booth.
But far from looking like simple toys, those puppets evoked a chilling sense of horror just by being seen. Disproportionate in shape—some missing limbs, others mutilated—many bore exaggeratedly realistic expressions, and several seemed made only to feed the morbid curiosity of whoever stared at them. They were not gifts for children or ordinary adults, but rather for those of dark and twisted taste.
Spike, studying the figures closely, could not hide his disgust. That feeling of revulsion soon turned into a knot of dread when, moving closer, he confirmed what he had first noticed from afar.
Many of the puppets bore the likeness of ponies he knew. Of friends and acquaintances. Of loved ones.
Among the hanging figures—between the twisted faces of old enemies and the distorted grimaces of his former Ponyville neighbors—six shapes stood out above the rest. They were the faces of his beloved friends, the ponies with whom he had shared countless adventures and who had helped save the day more than once.
The Mane Six were there, represented as delicate toys. They shone with the familiar colors and shapes that made them unmistakable, but their expressions completely contradicted the memories Spike cherished of them.
With closed eyes and sealed mouths, the puppets of his friends reflected sorrow and pain upon their delicate porcelain faces. Dark stains dulled the fabric that mimicked their skin, as though they had gone through a terrible battle. Among them, at the center of that macabre display, one figure stood out—desperately embracing the others, as if trying to shield them from a world collapsing around them.
Twilight Sparkle.
Of all of them, she appeared to be the most anguished. Her wings showed signs of having been torn, her horn was marred by fine cracks, and her expression conveyed such deep suffering that it was impossible to ignore.
A painful knot formed in Spike's chest. The feeling was so nauseating that it nearly made him sick, accompanied by a creeping sense of looming doom.
Big Mac, who had caught up with him, let out a heavy "Uhmm" as he took in the sight.
Time itself seemed to stop. And with the fair's indifferent music droning faintly in the background, the young dragon finally reacted.
"Who the hay did this?" he shouted, his confusion giving way to pure outrage.
Big Mac, in response, pointed one of his large hooves toward an empty seat near them. There, where the old puppet vendor had been sitting moments earlier, only a small sign remained, bearing a handwritten note that read:
"Went to the bathroom. Be back in a few hours. —Sincerely, Quusnecodra."
The message only fueled Spike's anger.
"Are you kidding me? Quusnecodra? Who even is that? I don't remember any Quusnecodra on the list of fair participants. This isn't even an authorized booth! Who does this guy think he is?!" he roared, nearly snorting smoke from his nostrils. The whole puppet ordeal had put him in a terrible mood.
In a fit of anger, he reached out to grab one of the nearest puppets by force—
"Bip-bop-bip-bop..."
"Ahhhh!" Spike froze mid-motion, a violent chill running down his spine. He jumped back instantly.
"Bip-bop... bip-bop... bip-bop..."
"Uhmm?" Big Mac frowned at Spike's reaction. The dragon stood motionless where he had landed after his startled leap.
"Big Mac... do you see that?" asked Spike in a high, nervous voice, his eyes fixed on the pile of puppets.
Both strained their hearing and sight. There, among the toys and dangling wires, something was moving cautiously, producing a metallic, artificial sound. Neither Spike nor Big Mac could make out its shape, but the sensation of being watched was undeniable.
Between the loose wires and wooden limbs swaying in the breeze, two small yellow lights shone—like the eyes of a predator lurking in the dark.
"What is that?" murmured Spike, a deeper shiver crawling down his back as he sensed the hostile presence observing them.
Then, a gust of wind shook the hanging puppets, making them sway to one side—and for a brief instant, it revealed what had been hidden behind them. The light filtering through exposed a polished, metallic, and gleaming surface. A shapeless silhouette, distorted by the blinding reflection of the sun's rays. Yet, despite the lack of details, it was clear that the being was conscious… and that it should not be disturbed.
Spike and Big Mac took another step back, recognition dawning on their faces.
What was something like that doing there? Was it the guardian of the puppets left behind by their owner? Or was it something else entirely?
The sheer strangeness of the situation only heightened Spike's anxiety. He felt almost certain that if they didn't leave soon, something terrible would happen.
"Maybe we should just drop this and go somewhere else..." murmured Spike, never taking his eyes off the sinister dolls.
"Eeeyup," confirmed Big Mac with the same certainty.
The two friends began to back away cautiously, wary of that eerie presence. However, just as they had taken several steps in the opposite direction, they saw a Royal Guard soldier running toward them at full speed from the far side of the fair.
"Counselor Spike! Thank Celestia I finally found you! We have an emergency!" shouted the soldier, handing him a letter immediately.
"Joe? Wait... what? Uhmm..." Spike barely had time to greet the newcomer. As soon as he heard the word "emergency" and felt the weight of the letter in his claws, his surprise quickly turned to focus... and then to panic.
It couldn't be true. What he had just read made no sense. When could all this have happened?
He reread the letter carefully this time, letting the emotions well up from deep within his chest and break through in his voice.
"Attack on the train from Ponyville to Canterlot... emergency meeting at the Royal Palace... Celestia and Luna in command... and this was over an hour ago?!" shouted Spike to the sky, taking off and drawing the attention of everyone nearby. "Why didn't I get this sooner?!"
The soldier shrank under the furious glare of the dragon and Big Mac, who was staring at him with a stern expression.
"We're sorry, Counselor Spike, but we couldn't locate you earlier because of... certain incidents at the fair," the guard answered tensely.
"Incidents? You could've used the emergency loudspeakers to call me!" snapped Spike, his anger rising.
"Those were the incidents," the soldier explained. "The entire emergency system of the capital is down. The communication lines—both physical and magical—are broken. None of the messengers we sent outside have returned yet..." With every word, his voice grew quieter, as if he were trying to contain his own fear and prevent the nearby ponies from overhearing such grim news.
At that, something clicked in Spike's mind. He froze midair, paralyzed, hovering motionless like a rock suspended in the wind.
Around him, the fair's music continued—soft and relaxing, repetitive yet fresh... as if mocking him.
[---]
A brief moment later...
Spike shot out of the fair like a projectile, cutting through the air as fast as his dragon wings could carry him. Within seconds, he was gone from sight, flying toward the Royal Palace of Canterlot.
Behind him, on the ground, Big Mac followed with equal urgency.
Among the murmurs of local ponies, tourists, and merchants, confusion and unease spread like a wave. Everyone was asking what could possibly be happening.
Unbothered by the commotion, the Royal Guard soldier who remained behind watched the scene with unease.
"Yeah... I suppose that should do for now..." he murmured, frowning.
Almost immediately, artificial sounds broke the tense stillness behind him.
"Bip-bop-bip-bop..."
The soldier—identified earlier as Joe—who until then had kept the composure of a proper royal guard, slowly turned around. But his expression was no longer that of a stoic sentry. His gaze sharpened with vicious hostility, his face twisted into a sour grimace, and beyond his countenance, his entire body began to change.
It was as if the emotions consuming him were reshaping his form—turning him into a serpentine figure, an impossible amalgamation of different creatures.
To the shock of the nearby ponies, the soldier vanished within seconds, leaving behind a far more imposing presence.
Discord, the Lord of Chaos himself, stood in all his extravagant glory.
However, unlike his usual theatrical entrances, this time he wasn't seeking applause or laughter. He didn't even seem to care that there were witnesses; his cold, calculating gaze remained fixed on a single point before him.
The atmosphere around him shifted. The music—so persistent until then—fell silent, as a wind, more a whisper than a breeze, swept swiftly through the fair stalls, making more than one spectator turn in his direction.
Without even ruffling a single hair, Discord raised an eyebrow with utter indifference.
"Are you coming out now, or do you need a formal invitation?" he asked, his tone balanced between mocking and grave.
In front of him, the grinding of gears echoed from the tangled pile of puppets that was now trembling. From among the wooden bodies and knotted strings, a mechanical figure began to emerge—moving with precision and metallic composure.
Soon, a blindingly bright silhouette stood firm for all to see.
"Bip..."
Golden horns, gleaming claws, a segmented tail that shimmered in warm hues—and, above all, a pair of glassy eyes that radiated a hypnotic yellow glow.
"...bop."
It was a dragon. Small, childlike, yet carrying a presence impossible to ignore. Its body of polished metal plates combined mechanical and organic features with surgical precision. Visible gears pulsed at its joints, while thin lines of light ran along its frame, reflecting pearly and steely tones depending on how the light struck.
Its wings—engraved and articulated like the inner workings of a clock—spread open with a soft hum. Its tail glowed faintly, pulsing in rhythm. At its chest, a golden clock spun with erratic hands, as if its very existence was bound to a time that did not belong to this world.
The creature stepped forward and stopped, never breaking eye contact with its target.
"Your... ho-hobbies are as unusual... as you are, Lord of Chaos," it said, in a voice broken by mechanical stuttering.
Discord shrugged.
"Friend things. You know how it is, Vim."
"I don't," replied the automaton without hesitation.
"Anyway... back to what you were saying about your sister's plan?" asked Discord casually, taking a bite from a caramel apple as he kept his gaze fixed on the emissary of midnight standing before him.
[---]
A few minutes later... the Revenge of the Knights of Order began.