Every year, on this date, I swam to the highest spire of Atlantis and looked to the distant shore.

I rose before dawn, as always. Few seaponies swam the currents at this time of night, and those that did paid no attention to me. It was as if the hour demanded anonymity, and we were happy to oblige.

My tail traced the flow of the main current until I met an intersection. From there, I swam up. Soon, I passed the highest seapony building, but the twin fins on my back still felt that other seapony construction, the broad currents that pulled warmth from the vent on the ocean floor and let it flow over the seaponies of Atlantis. I swam higher, and the warmth slowly dissipated, replaced by the natural chill of the ocean water.

Finally, I reached the top of the spire, an ancient monolith of rock worn smooth by time. I wrapped my tail around it and gazed into the darkness. It was still before dawn; not the slightest hint of light from the sun above filtered through the water. I waited for that to change.

Light touched the ocean behind me, to the east, and my eyes welcomed it. From east to west, light spread, brightening the water. I watched until the water at the very edge of my vision glittered faintly. Dawn had now arrived for the landponies. At that distant shore stood a great city, Fillydelphia, and beyond that, an entire nation of landponies.

And somewhere in that vast land was my mother.

I had always known I was different. Finback seaponies are rare, and are normally seaponies with some landpony heritage. And my rounded ears and coat color, with a hint of gold like sand, made that obvious to the casual observer. When I first asked why I didn’t have a mother like the other seaponies, my father corrected me. I did have a mother, but she was gone, returned to the surface. And then he told me about her.

He had seen her, an obvious visitor from the surface transformed into a finback seapony, in the library of the University of Atlantis. My father, a historian, was immediately curious about the strange visitor. She rebuffed him, saying she worked alone. But later, he spotted some suspicious seaponies slipping away from campus. Retracing their wake, he found the mare in a shuttered campus building, locked in a room that was slowly filling with silt. The door was melted shut, and the window sealed with stone.

That room, barely bigger than a closet, was my father’s first “office” as a graduate student. And so he knew about the hidden door that connected it to the hallways once used by the building’s cleaners.

One saved, the mare muttered something about being off her game in this form, and begrudgingly admitted she could use the help.

He learned she was seeking an ancient golden idol, a symbol to mark the unity between the landponies of Equestria and the horses of Saddle Arabia, lost at sea centuries ago. But its value was not only in its material, or its historical significance. In the wrong hooves, it could be the focus for a ritual, driving the landponies and horses apart and filling their hearts with hatred.

And wouldn’t you know it? Her greatest adversary was also seeking this idol.

His story was quite the adventure. An ancient temple buried under the silt, a hidden cult of seaponies, and a guardian with the head of a shark and lobster pincers at the end of his forelegs. But for my father, the story was always focused on this mare, my mother.

He told me all about what attracted him to her. A brilliant mind. A way with words. And an unquenchable desire for adventure. And he would always cherish the memories, and the greatest treasure she gifted him—me.

My own cutie mark symbolized exploration, my own desire for adventure. But I wasn’t interested in charting distant waterways or traversing trade routes to faraway cities. I found myself looking to the shore, where land and sea met.

Just as they met in me.

---

“Welcome home, son. And happy birthday.” My father swam up and embraced me.

“Thanks, Dad.”

My eyes were drawn, as they always were, to the mosaic on the wall, a portrait of my mother. It was crafted by my father while he was carrying me, from his memories of my mother. Colored bits of stone, coral, and shell combined to shape the image of a finback seapony with a golden coat and mane of different shades of silver, in distinct stripes as landponies normally have.

And her eyes. Those brilliant rose eyes. One look would captivate you.

My father draped his foreleg over me and gazed at the portrait. “I still regret never seeing her true form,” he said. “I’m sure she was beautiful.”

“Do you think she dreams about me?” It was a question I had asked many times before.

“She was gone before I learned I was pregnant, and landponies may not even remember that, under the sea, stallions bear the foals,” my father said. “But the harmony of this world reaches both land and sea. Have faith, my son.”

“I want to find her,” I said. Again, it’s something I’ve said many times before. But not being a narwhal seapony, there’s no I could hold my transformation to landpony form for long enough to go beyond the coast.

“I agree. You’re twenty years old now, and it’s clear your destiny will take you beyond the ocean.” My father presented a box to me.

I opened it, revealing a flawless red gem. Even without touching it, I could feel its warmth, its energy, its life. A heartstone. A very rare creation, it was a self-regenerating source of magical energy, and the only thing I knew of that would let me hold landpony form and travel the surface.

“How did you get this, Dad?” I said.

“Red-Crest, Lord of Atlantis, offered me a boon as thanks for helping your mother unearth and defeat the Cult of the Bottomless Maw. And now I’ve collected on it.”

“I... I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Father.”

“You will always have a home here, should you realize your heart belongs in Atlantis,” my father said. “But if not, all I ask is that you write, and visit. Do not forget your friends and family.”

“I never could,” I said.

---

Preparations kept me in Atlantis for another month. I visited friends and family, gathered supplies, and sold a few possessions I wouldn’t be able to use on the surface. Finally, the day of my departure arrived.

The morning was one last celebration, a going-away party for me. I said my final goodbyes, gathered my meager belongings in a kelp mesh pack, and swam for that distant shore.

I knew what to expect about the journey, having talked to many seaponies who visited the surface. They were traders, artisans, even a colt who lived on the surface when his mother was ambassador to the landponies. The route was clearly marked by glowing yellow stones, though I could also make the journey by using my natural direction sense and feeling the currents in my fins. And after forty minutes, I felt myself swimming upward. The water brightened as the sun’s light was filtered less and less by the depths.

Soon, I could see the surface of the water, the dry space above me. I felt the alien currents, the water moved by the tides rather than seapony magic. Energy filled me, excitement and a bit of apprehension, as I swam for the surface. The distance between the sandy seafloor and the surface above shrank, until it was the length of a seapony’s tail.

I breached the surface, sinking my forehooves into the wet sand and pulling my tail out of the water. I concentrated, envisioning the shape of a landpony. The magic flowed from me into my heartstone, where it was amplified, before flowing into my body. My tail felt warm as its muscles cramped and convulsed, and then these muscles pulled, moving in a way they couldn’t naturally move. I felt the split, followed by my tailfins growing and thickening. The fins on my back grew, and I felt a strange tickling sensation.

My tail finished taking the form of a landpony’s hind legs, and for the first time, I stood, with four hooves, on that distant shore.

Two more changes happened. Hairs like those of my mane grew around my new landpony tail, and my back fins finished growing. The muscles of my back and barrel, which offered a limited control over my back fins as I swam, now felt more powerful. And I was picking up feeling from my back fins. It was like feeling the currents of water, except I was now feeling the currents of air.

I looked back and saw wings. My landpony form was a pegasus! Was my mother a pegasus? I wondered that as I tried moving my wings. I felt the magic of my new form flow through my wings, just enough to lift me into the air. I lost control, and landed face first on the soft sand.

I got up and brushed the sand off my coat. I noticed I was getting a few looks from the landponies on the beach, but I brushed them off, too.

I had a world to explore.

---

I had only two things planned for the day. First, I needed to visit a bank, to exchange my clams for the metal bits the landponies used for currency. Second, I needed to find my host, an earth pony named Far Trader. His company traded both with the seaponies of Atlantis and with landponies across Equestria, and he offered me a job, one that would help me explore the land and hopefully find my mother.

I found a bank not far from the shore, where I met a unicorn mare whose cutie mark had a bit, a clam, and what I guessed were three other kinds of money. She exchanged my clams and welcomed me to Fillydelphia with a smile, and even gave me directions to Far Trader’s company.

I now had bits in my pouch, an afternoon free, and a whole city to explore.

I saw vendors selling all sorts of strange foods, foods I had only ever heard about. Landponies ate grains and fruits and sweets, and they didn’t eat fish. The seaponies I talked to said that the diet could take some time to get used to.

I saw buildings, tall buildings, all in square and rectangle shapes. In Atlantis, only the lord’s palace was built like that. Most seapony buildings were natural, shaped from the ocean floor with our magic.

I saw carriages, lots of them! Single ponies pulled carriages that sat two, and teams of ponies pulled larger carriages.

And the ponies! It’s one thing to hear that Fillydelphia has fifty times the population of Atlantis. It’s another thing entirely to see it.

I couldn’t help but gawk like the out of place visitor I was.

I swam, or rather walked, through the throng of ponies, heading in the general direction of my destination, but sometimes veering off to look at something that caught my interest. There were so many creations that the landponies take for granted, but which can’t exist in my underwater world. These were things I only learned about in school, and I was determined to see them all.

There was a building with a sign showing a book, but not like our scrolls, a landpony bookstore. We speak and write the same language, but landponies don’t realize how paper makes the act of writing so much easier. I walked over to the window of this store, where dozens of books were displayed. There was a similarity to the books on display. Each had an illustrated cover showing the same character, and using the same name. But once I got closer, I noticed something.

The mare on the cover, a pegasus, had my mother’s coat, my mother’s mane, and my mother’s eyes.

I stared at each of these “Daring Do” books in turn. Daring Do and the Quest for the Sapphire Stone. Daring Do and the Griffon’s Goblet. Daring Do and the Riddle of the Sphinx. Daring Do and the Legend of the Lost Art.

And then I saw the next book in the series. On the cover, Daring Do was illustrated as a finback seapony, swimming alongside a seapony stallion. That stallion shared my father’s mane, coat, and scale colors, though he was illustrated with a muscular build and a ruggedly handsome face that, admittedly, neither he nor I possessed.

Daring Do and the Sunken Treasure of Atlantis, by A. K. Yearling.

I ran inside the bookstore and found the display of books. I took a copy of Daring Do and the Sunken Treasure of Atlantis to a nearby couch and started reading. The book started with a prologue, describing the voyage of the ship Sea Star and its loss with all hooves during a terrible storm. Then came Daring Do chasing a cloaked pony through the alleys of Manehattan, the recovery of a stolen book, and the discovery of a hidden letter discussing the fate of the Idol of the Distant Tribes.

I skipped ahead in the book, and Daring Do, now in Atlantis, was following up on something she had overheard two narwhal seaponies say, about some ancient scrolls being kept locked away in a closed campus building. I mentally screamed at Daring Do not to go, knowing what was about to happen. But she slipped into the small office. The door slammed shut, and the two narwhals who had trailed her laughed as they melted the door in its frame. Then she heard a click, and silt started filling the room.

Daring Do struggled, trying every trick in her arsenal. She tried to force open the door using part of an old chair. She tried to dislodge the stones blocking the window. Still, the silt rose, and the water was forced out through a narrow crack in the window. As the end neared, she was reduced to beating on the window with her tail.

And then the silt level started falling, and a stallion reached in, pulling her to safety.

“Are you sure you don’t need some assistance?” the stallion said.

Daring Do shook her tail, trying to dislodge the silt that got everywhere, sticking in between the scales of her seapony tail. “Only until I’m back on my game. But I do thank you for the assist, Doctor....”

“Sunken Treasure, Professor of History.”

Sunken Treasure?



“Excuse me, sir?”

I looked up. One of the store’s clerks, a unicorn mare, was looking at me.

“While I’m always thrilled to see somepony lost in a good book, I’m afraid the store will be closing soon for a private event. Would you like to make a purchase?

I looked around. The store was a lot more crowded now. “What’s going on?”

“A. K. Yearling is doing a reading and book signing this evening. Thus, the display.” She motioned to the window.

“A. K. Yearling?” I checked the cover of the book to confirm. “I have to talk to her!”

“You and everypony else.” She laughed. “Sorry, but the tickets for this event sold out the first hour they were on sale. Now, do you want to buy the book?”

“Yeah,” I replied dejectedly.

Was it really possible I had identified my mother immediately? Was this Daring Do character a real pony? Was she still alive? My mind raced with thoughts as I carried my purchase. I was so distracted that I bumped into somepony.

I apologized to this pony. She was an older mare, largely concealed beneath a shawl, hat, and cloak. But then I saw her eyes. “Daring Do?”

She looked at me, and she saw... something. “Who are you?” she said.

“My name is Green-Fin. My father is Dr. Long-Tail of the University of Atlantis.”

She grabbed me and pulled me to the door. “Let’s talk.”

---

The mare led me down the street, stopping at the next building with someplace to sit. A bitter, foreign aroma greeted me as I entered the building. She spoke to a stallion behind the counter. We sat down, and soon cups and a pot of some liquid were brought to our table.

“What is this?” I asked.

“Tea. Is this your first time?”

“This is my first trip to the surface, so there are a lot of things that will be my first time,” I said.

“Tea might take getting used to, but it’s easier than tasting fish rolls for the first time,” she said. “You know, that name, Long-Tail. I’ve only said it to one pony, my editor. And he insisted I use a pony name. For accessibility, or some twaddle like that.”

“Then you are A. K. Yearling?”

“Who do you think I am, Green-Fin?”

I replied with the name my father spoke with great reverence. “Compass Rose.”

“In the world of archaeology, I am known as Daring Do, intrepid adventurer. In the literary world, I am known as A. K. Yearling, spinner of many a rollicking tale of adventure. But both are pseudonyms, and there are few that ever earned the right to know me by the name Compass Rose,” she said. “Tell me, Green-Fin, how old are you?”

“I turned twenty a month ago,” I said. “My father has never stopped thinking of you, and is eternally grateful for the gift of life you gave him.”

She nodded. “That about settles it. I must be the only mare in the world who didn’t know she has a foal. Come here.”

I approached, and I embraced my mother.

Compass Rose looked at my cutie mark. “I recognize that. It means travel, wanderlust, adventure, right?”

“That is one meaning,” I said. Seapony cutie marks are more symbolic than landpony ones; I was a bit surprised she learned about them. “I earned my cutie mark on my birthday, many years ago, as I looked to the distant shore, toward Fillydelphia, Equestria, and the landpony civilization. So I think of my cutie mark as reading ‘across distant shores’.”

“You’ve crossed that shore, and there’s a whole world open to you, Green-Fin. Or, if you ever want to use a pony name, I think Distant Shores fits you well.”

“I thought my adventure would be finding you,” I said. “But that’s done. Unless... we were to adventure, together?”

Compass Rose pulled back her shawl, revealing her mane. It was exactly as my father had described it, multiple bands of silver. But in each, many of the strands of hair had changed to a different kind of silver, the mark of old age.

“I’ve hung up my jacket and pith helmet. I’m done with the crashes, the broken wings. It’s no longer my place to explore ancient ruins where everything is decayed but the traps,” she said. “You can find your own adventure, Green-Fin, but it will be yours alone. And from one explorer to another? I suggest you avoid the ones with villains and henchponies. It gets old.”

I nodded and sipped my bitter tea. Compass Rose pulled a pen and card from the pocket of her cloak, and wrote something on the card before passing it to me.

“If you need advice, please write. And if your adventures ever bring you to Vanhoover, look me up.” She rose. “I’m afraid I’m late for my little meet and greet. It was a great pleasure to meet you, Green-Fin. And please let your father know that I’ve never forgotten our time together, either.”

“I will. And I will tell him your natural form is as beautiful as he imagined.”