The Tyrant Within

Chapters

Prologue: The Birth of the Dressage Downs
The Pillars of Education
The Old Country
The Dressage Downs
The Underbelly
Duel for the Equestrian Fate
Epilogue: The Death of Ambition

Prologue: The Birth of the Dressage Downs

Hatred. Hatred through which the blizzards tore. Hatred rooted in the frozen earth several metres down; hatred entombed within the bodies of angry peasants; hatred deep under the deserts of snow; hatred whirling among flakes in the razor-tipped winds; hatred lost to the literal mists of time. Home of nothing but yetis, dead trees, and the ever-spiralling spirits of the windigoes.

A yeti looked up, snarled at nothing in the mist. It raised a claw.

Something glinted, shot out.

Seconds later, the yeti whimpered and galloped out of sight. Overhead, the windigoes saw.

In their primitive minds, they knew only the feeding frenzy. Ponies locked in their ice became near-permanent wells of food. The hatred was so cold it almost sizzled. They gathered and drank, like children around a campfire.

The windigoes sensed new hearts. They watched.

Below, the snow steamed. Began to sag. Flowed around blocks of ice like glaciers surrendering boulders. Bare soil became exposed.

A row of figures marched into view. These clanked as they marched, each in lockstep, the timing merged into the stamping of giants. Their bodies were protected by pure black barding. Their visors glowed white in glassy reflection. Their unicorn horns burst with magnesium flame, as though slow-burning fireworks lay trapped inside.

Each flank bore the pink crest of an “S”, jagged at the tips like lightning bolts, and bearing small wings as though the letter were a feathered serpent.

As one, the windigoes fell upon them. Blew harder. Tried to reclaim their land. White flecks shot down. Cold winds scythed.

The army watched impassively, horns aglow. Then…

From behind them, jets of water lashed out.

Another wave of soldiers marched forwards. Their horns were alight with more traditional magic. The water jets shot forth, curved round, became a woven shield.

A third wave of soldiers brought up the rear. Their magic bore aloft swords of iron. The blades swung, aimed, fired like darts. Winds rebuffed by the water, snowflakes trapped on its film, were scattered and shattered by the shooting swords.

Windigoes fell back, shrieking. All except one, which had sensed something.

A final figure came into view. Unlike the others, her armour was restricted to below her neck. For her face, a simple flinty stare would do – sharp, narrow, apparently bored. She stopped and watched the weaving windigo with neither fear nor despair. She seemed mildly interested in observing what it did.

Her heart was full of hatred.

With glee, the windigo shrieked and dived. Conventional attacks meant little to a spirit – water, swords, and heat spells flowed over it fruitlessly. One blast of wintry cold, and the prey would have no choice but to consume itself with its own lifeless hatred.

Some of the nearby soldiers broke ranks, scattered. Whereas the figure watched, apparently unconcerned.

The windigo puffed up its cheeks, ready to blow –

– and a plumed peacock of ice flashed over it, screeching.

Shocked, its cold attack rebuffed, the windigo felt the unnatural chill turned back on itself. Its ghostly form solidified, sharpened, felt the horrible element cling to its essence like alien claws. Caught in its own trap, it writhed, screeched –

– met the darkness of hatred, but as a shot spell. The hatred, aimed not at another, but at itself. Felt for the briefest of moments what it was like to be contorted, crushed, and constricted in the mind of an enemy. Struggled. Screamed.

Shattered.

Lady Abacus Cinch watched the pieces tinkle to the exposed earth, then lost interest.

“Rescue teams, front and centre!” she barked.

Now the soldiers regrouped. Ice blocks stood revealed by the retreating snow. Deep inside, frozen unicorn bodies could be seen.

Each soldier set to work, each to their own specialty. Heat-casters melted the blocks with pink flames. Water specialists manipulated the ice itself, sloughing it off. Swordsponies hacked away the bigger chunks, then prised the rest open with more careful hooves. Soon, the first of the frozen peasants gasped freedom.

The captain hurried back and saluted; Lady Cinch nodded her permission. “Ma’am, some of the windigoes have fled north. Shall we pursue them?”

Windigoes. Spirits of stupidity and chaos. Lady Cinch narrowed her eyes.

“We shall leave them, Captain,” she declared. “Those monsters can be routed in due time.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Another soldier scurried towards them, much jumpier and clumsier. Lady Cinch eyed his gait with distaste before he saluted.

“Ma’am! We found more, ma’am!”

“Well, Sergeant? You know what to do.”

He hesitated, then said: “Only they’re… earth ponies. And pegasi, ma’am.”

She did not shift her expression.

“You know, ma’am… non-unicorns?”

She still did not shift. Then she blinked, once.

“Are you an imbecile, Sergeant?” she drawled. “Or merely scatter-brained? I thought I made my orders quite clear. No one is to be turned away, regardless of tribe. Just because we’re reviving the Old Country, doesn’t mean we’re reviving its old mistakes.”

“Sorry, ma’am. Yes, ma’am.” He hurried off.

Lady Cinch leaned towards the captain. “Have that sergeant dishonourably discharged.”

“Yes, ma’am. He means well, ma’am.”

“Immaterial. I won’t tolerate incompetence.”

As the freed ponies gathered – unicorns, earth ponies, and pegasi eyeing each other suspiciously – the mists began to recede. Hard, dark earth spread out around them. Already, the sky was lightening.

Lady Cinch strode around them, a general before her shivering troops, or a principal before an assembly of scared freshmen. Several of the earth ponies huddled amongst themselves, watching her nervously. Even they could sense her power.

The plumed peacock of ice landed on her shoulder. She didn’t seem to notice.

“I,” she announced, “am Lady Abacus Cinch. Since the windigo attack two centuries ago, you have been trapped in their cursed ice and abandoned by your fellow citizens.” She paused to let the shocked and worried mutters have their breathing space, then came down hard with but a sharp look. “Two centuries,” she repeated. “Whilst the Old Country has been all but forgotten, a new nation has arisen – the land of Equestria – one where unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies have since put aside their ancient differences. You may be tempted by your unfortunate history to renew those differences.”

At once, the ice peacock on her shoulder darted over their heads, circled the group, slid a wingtip skilfully along the ground. Ice stalagmites speared up behind it, fencing them in. Ponies gasped and huddled ever tighter. Someone screamed.

Lady Cinch waited until the bird had completed one circuit and landed on her shoulder again. “I, however, have a better future in store for you. Equestria once thrived on its foundations, held up by pillars of virtue. Alas, it has grown weak. Without strong leadership, it has no future of its own, and no confidence in anyone else’s. Yours, for example.”

The bird screeched defiance at the sky. Lady Cinch leaned forwards; her shadow fell upon the group. Behind, her loyal soldiers stood in arrowhead formation, with her as the deadly point.

“But I have a vision. A vision of a new nation, greater than any other. One that will not weaken and crumble like those before it. I alone have plans for the Old Country now. Pledge your loyalty to me, and you shall thrive under my guidance and protection. We shall become the greatest nation on earth.”

Far behind her, the mists fully receded. The freed ponies gasped.

The distant city, revealed. Towers still under construction, surrounded by metallic spires, crystallized arches, cloud rings in the sky, vast acres of cropland. An invisible shimmering betrayed the aura of powerful magic.

Over all, the burning pink heart hovered, warming hearts. A Fire of Friendship, spreading pure life.

One or two unicorns bowed low. Then many more. Then the earth ponies, the pegasi – many grudgingly – until they were prostrate at her armoured hooves. Already, the warmth melted the last resistance of their hardened hearts.

A small smile, like a crack in an ice sculpture, crossed Lady Cinch’s face.

Within, however, the dammed lake of hatred, compressed between levees of pure, unforgiving ice, spiked by defensive obsidian shards, and reinforced by walls of sleek metal. Coldness, untouched by futile heat…

The Pillars of Education

Ten Years Ago

“Celestia? Celestia! Pay attention!”

The rolled-up scroll bounced off the back of the young unicorn’s head. She woke with a snort and straightened up at once.

“Yes, Master! Sorry, Master!”

Across the classroom, several students tittered into their hooves. Only young Cinch – sitting at the desk next to Celestia’s – kept her face taut, as if straining not to roll her eyes.

Horn aglow, their tutor – her curved horn distinct among the straighter examples around – strode between the two desks and wagged the scroll in front of Celestia’s face. “‘Master’ was how you addressed Star Swirl. When you address me, it’s ‘Sensei’. Understood?”

“Yes, M– Sensei! Sorry, Sensei!”

Sensei glowered, but she contented herself with a harrumph and strode to the front of the class. “Since you have time to daydream, perhaps you have already learned the tenets of my lesson? Do you have time to teach them to the rest of us?”

Celestia grimaced. In truth, she was used to this sort of thing. Master Star Swirl the Bearded hadn’t taken any nonsense either, which was a shame because Celestia had a regrettable tendency to serve up nonsense at least once a class. She still hadn’t finished the essay he’d set them last week.

His replacement – Sensei – beckoned her with the scroll. Celestia sighed and scraped her chair back. No matter how many times she did it, she never stopped flushing red from her soul outwards whenever she was called to the front.

Frantically, she tried to recall the last few minutes of blah-blah-blah.

After an embarrassed and embarrassing silence, she glanced at the tight-lipped Sensei off to one side. No help there.

“Er…” she began. “Waxing…”

Smack of the scroll on her head. “It’s wuxing! Wuxing!”

“Wuxing, sorry! Wuxing… claims that the world is made up of, um, five classical elements… Um…”

As she droned on helplessly, Celestia caught Cinch’s eye. Cinch made frantic eyebrow signals to the wall, where displayed was what looked like a diagram of the pony body. Right, right, so something to do with acupuncture?

“And these ‘elements’ are?” asked Sensei brusquely.

Something in her tone made Celestia realize she was on a hiding to nothing, but she pressed on. “Um… the five elements are earth… fire… water… um, air and… something else, I think? Magic?”

Another smack of the scroll. “No! That is the four-element system of the pegasus philosopher Impedimentes! If you had been paying attention, you would know that Wuxing philosophy was described by the unicorn philosopher Planet Wanderer as a collection of processes of change, not of crude ‘elements’. And the last two are symbolized by metal and wood, not air and ‘something else’! Now describe how these five phases relate to the Five Virtues of the Great Sage Confusing.”

“Er…” It wasn’t fair. This stuff hadn’t even been on the syllabus seven days ago, and already she was supposed to be an expert?

Lazily, Cinch raised a hoof. Sensei waved her down.

“No, no. Let us find out how much ‘Sensei Celestia’ has learned.”

“Er…” Celestia made a stab at it. “Those virtues are, um, growing… that’s wood, obviously… er, drive, moderation… summer…? I think…? And something to do with harvesting…?”

The class giggled. Sensei pointed to Celestia’s desk.

“Sit down!” Once Celestia had retreated gratefully, Sensei paced back and forth, swiping the scroll in mid-air as though painting her words. “Though I would not be so quick to laugh, if I were any of you. Learning the essence of reality is not easy. Many besides me would dispute these claims, dismiss them as yet more speculation among speculations. There are many theories as to how energy and matter interact in this world. I can hardly expect any of you to master the tenets of but one philosophy in a week. Yes, Cinch? You wish to speak?”

Unusually, Cinch stood up before speaking. Some of the young mares tittered behind her back, but Celestia recognized an old unicorn tradition when she saw one.

“If I may, Sensei?” Cinch bowed low, then cleared her throat – pure theatrics, Celestia suspected. “The Five Virtues roughly correspond to the natural cycles of nature, of creation and destruction, and of the interaction of ponies with their environment in the process known as Feng Shui. The first principle of ‘wood’ or ‘tree’ is indeed growth, as represented by the rebirth of spring. Followed by the second principle of ‘fire’ as vitality, as represented by the prime of spring and the entry into summer…”

At this point, Celestia tuned her out. It was like watching a textbook talk.

Moodily, she stared out the window at the bright sky beyond, where the sun hung invitingly like the face of an indulgent mother. Oh, how she longed to throw herself into the winds of freedom! If only she could fly, soar, plunge into the eternal warmth of that lake of fire like the legendary phoenix, she’d –

Sensei’s scroll bounced off her muzzle, gently this time. Just enough to wake her up to Cinch’s lecture.

“…and that is how they relate to the energy flow in the pony body, quod erat demonstratum.” With a smug smirk, Cinch seated herself again.

“Excellent memory. Near-perfect description.”

At this, Cinch’s face twitched. Just for a second.

“And to make sure it sinks in,” continued Sensei, with a somewhat impish grin, “you shall all write down the tenets as Cinch has just described them. Now.”

Most of the class gave a start and ferreted around for quills and ink bottles. Celestia waited for Cinch to start, then glanced over at her writing before copying what she saw.

Sensei, who despite only filling in for seven days was in some respects a quick learner herself, casually strolled between them and forcibly turned Celestia’s head away from Cinch’s desk. Celestia got the hint and struggled as best she could, trying now to ignore the lure of the open window and the imagined fields of grass outside…

“Once again,” drawled young Cinch, adjusting her spectacles, “I see you failed to ‘hit it off’ with Sensei.”

Celestia levitated some weights and kendo sticks off the mat, then threw them aside. She didn’t even raise her head above her withers.

“Today, and the day we first met,” she grumbled, then put on a cheery voice. “‘Hey, Sensei, I heard your eastern name translates to ‘Meadowbrook’, are you related to Mage Meadowbrook?’”

Cinch did her best to look stern. “‘No relation! Now stop asking!’” she barked in uncanny imitation.

They both smiled – Celestia grinning, Cinch allowing a peek of jocularity on her lips – and laughed together. Then they turned back to the rest of the room.

A week ago, they’d called it the school’s magic duelling chamber. Under Sensei, it had been redubbed the Dojo of the Ancient Art of Alikondo, allegedly a fighting philosophy derived from the ancient legend of Princess Alicorn herself. Normally, students would be lined up along one side of the mini-moat by the bamboo decoration, and two would be selected to step over the water and onto the mat to fight. Supervised, of course.

Technically, the dojo was open at any time. Celestia liked to use it on her own terms, i.e. to let off steam after a bad day. She used it often.

“Kinda wish I’d met her, though,” Celestia said, trotting on the spot before stretching a leg to warm up. “Or any of the Pillars other than Star Swirl.”

“Hm,” said Cinch doubtfully; she wasn’t bothering with stretches. “I could have sworn you had. What about those three afterschool visits last month? The first one? Everypony turned up then.”

“Remedial class.” Celestia smiled painfully.

“And the one after that?”

“Detention.”

“And the one after that?”

“Remedial class, then detention.”

Cinch sighed and raised her muzzle to the ceiling. “One wonders you achieve anything at all. And can’t you do something about your mane? Presentation is important.”

“Right. And you go to sleep with that knot, do you?”

They regarded each other without much hope. Cinch had red wine and taffeta pink in her mane, locked firmly in a prim and proper bun so tight it could withstand an earth pony’s kick, whereas Celestia’s hairy mass of cotton candy haystack was said to have eaten combs, as well as half the magic of the unicorns wielding them.

Tutting, Cinch stepped delicately into position. “Queen Berry’s rules, I take it?”

Celestia tittered: she already stood in her position opposite. “How else? Don’t answer that,” she added when she saw the textbook lips move.

A nod each.

“Aha, but first…” Cinch turned to a couple of young colts waiting their turn on the side. “…how about an announcement to the school?”

Surprised, they jumped to action and blundered off.

Celestia rolled her eyes. “Always the audience, huh?”

“Yes. Let everypony see us in action. Reputation-building is half the pleasure. And it keeps you fair, of course.”

“You wound me.” But Celestia chuckled despite herself. She loved putting on a show.

As if they didn’t have a reputation already. Within minutes, the sides of the dojo and the viewing galleries above were thronged with eager, chatting students. A few teachers showed up too. Fights between Cinch and Celestia had become legend at this point.

Cinch acknowledged them all with a polite bow. Celestia waved and called out to a few familiar faces in the crowd.

Overhead, some enterprising young colt rang the gong.

Both combatants faced each other, allowing the traditional minute for tranquil meditation. Celestia used it to figure out which spell to use.

Then, to business. Celestia spread her gait in the typical attack stance. Cinch merely conspired to look bored.

Silence fell.

Deep within Cinch’s sleepy snow-white mask, the cold eyes froze, locked onto Celestia’s shimmering horn.

Celestia narrowed her own eyes like blast doors, lowering her head. Burning bloodlust pumped through her rich arteries.

Silence began to rise.

Then…

Cinch’s horn hummed as she cast the first spell. From the moat, ribbons of water arced up and swung by, snaking through the air around her. Some compacted, hardened, became an ice shield. One strand lengthened, sharpened, became a javelin.

Celestia fired. She whirled, somersaulted, flipped sideways, and spun. With each move, a fireball surged out, curved, spun around her like comets around a sun. Several in the audience “oohed” and “aahed”.

One fireball launched.

The shield swatted it aside. Unlike Celestia, Cinch didn’t move a muscle.

Her javelin retaliated. Two fireballs knocked it side-on, one at 90 degrees, the other till it faced the other way. A third enveloped it, burst, fired the javelin back like a flintlock bullet.

Ice met ice. The javelin shattered. The shield cracked.

Cinch’s eyes widened, gave up the pretence: she had to sidle out of the path of the next fireball – it blasted her shield asunder and went right through, surrounded by shards. More water slithered out of the moat as reinforcements. More fireballs evaporated them.

Back and forth, back and forth. Ribbons of water smashed into blocks aflame. Ice shattered against the heat waves. The longer they fought, the more the unicorns changed tactics. Cinch stopped trying to minimize her movements and had to leap wildly just to avoid one streaking blast after another. Celestia calmed, stumbled less, became an immoveable statue of her own.

Cinch’s bun slid out of place. Grunting with the effort, she ducked a blow and cast a new spell from the tip of her ground-tapping horn.

Five shadows budded off, crept along the mat, closed in on Celestia’s hooves, wrapped them tight, held her in place.

“Nice,” said Celestia. “You learned that from Stygian way back?”

“Mm,” replied Cinch. “His theories on dark magic proved fascinating.”

“Impressive.” That was when Celestia’s horn blazed pure white; beams of light speared each tendril of shadow, evaporating them. “Almost had me there.”

She lowered her horn. Her next spell caught the surrounding air, and the sudden winds threw themselves across.

Cinch barely had time to gasp. The burst of hurricane knocked her off her hooves and beyond the moat, where she landed hard on her rump.

As usual, the whole thing took less than a minute.

Cheers broke out at once. A quick cheeky bow and a few blown kisses later, Celestia galloped and leapt over the moat to help Cinch up.

“You OK?” she whispered to her friend’s back.

For an instant, Cinch’s teeth ground together. When she turned around, however, Celestia was not fooled by the calm, collected mask now being played.

“It seems we’ll all have to get up earlier to match skills with you, Celestia.”

“You’re kidding? I must be slipping. Fifty-nine seconds is poor for me.”

“If only you could apply that skill to academia in general, you’d be unstoppable.”

“Ha, you may be right…”

To a backdrop of stamping applause and whoops, they bowed their heads and knocked horn against horn, a mutual mark of respect. As tradition decreed, of course, even if it had only been tradition for a week.

“Good game,” they both said.

Then they both gave a sigh, a rub of ears, and a shared giggle on their way out. Back into the non-jinxed hurly-burly of real life.

The Old Country

That evening, Lady Cinch took her leisurely constitutional, ambling downhill from the school to her family’s country estate. Although she read as she walked, she slowed to admire the scenery.

Behind her stood the capital city of Equestria: Everfree City. Hovels and huts and humbler abodes marked where most of the citizenry dwelt, but it didn’t take long to reach the granite-grey towers of the inner circle, and beyond that to the gothic castle where lived the King and Queen of the Unicorns.

Before her ran the free acres of the county: Cosmopolitica, the largest county in all of Equestria. Green hills, picturesque fields with slate walls she could vault over – were she so coarsely inclined, that is – yet home to the cities of trees that were the private forests of the gentry. The owners of the land didn’t encourage trespassers, but for Cinch, it was calming enough to admire from a distance.

At least until she heard Celestia calling.

Scroll vanishing in a puff of sparkles, Cinch turned around as though stepping over wine glasses, whereas Celestia kicked up dust and then skidded, panting and out of breath, to a halt.

“Caught… you!” she breathed. Under Cinch’s patience, she stopped gasping her lungs out. “Going so soon?”

What little surprise made it out of Cinch’s self-controlled grasp rammed against her face. “Of course! Tonight, I must study Sensei’s assigned scrolls on Alikondo philosophy.”

Celestia gaped at her. “Homework again?”

“Well, yes. What else?”

“Are you serious?”

Despite herself, Cinch frowned in confusion. This hadn’t happened before. Daily routine dictated that they said their goodbyes at the school gates and parted ways.

“Listen,” said Celestia, breathless even now, “Mom and Dad are having a little get-together at our house.”

Although Cinch would never gape or goggle, she did give a jolt, thoroughly taken aback. Celestia’s “house” was one of the biggest towers in the capital.

“They’re inviting all the family over, and I thought you might like to come?” Celestia leaned forwards.

For the first time, Cinch didn’t bother hiding her emotions. She glanced about nervously, then took a step back.

“Well, now, er…” she began.

“Come on. I could really do with your brains in the next debate. I’m hopeless! And it’s about time you met my family, don’t you think? How long have we known each other, now?”

“Me? I’m not sure it would be…” Cinch contorted her lips, hoping to wring the best words out. “It simply isn’t done.”

Dishevelled as the rest of her may be, if Celestia excelled at one thing, it was her beautiful laugh. To Cinch’s ears, it suggested the tinkle of frost under a melting spring, or the whirring wings of a shy hummingbird.

“So let’s do it!” Celestia boomed. “There’s a first time for everything!”

“I’d have to ask my parents for permission –”

“Not a problem. I can send one of our servants down to tell them where you are. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

They’d probably be thrilled, Cinch reflected glumly. Or terrified.

Still, Cinch agonized in the depths of the social sea. “But they… and I’m… well, of the lower ranks. It wouldn’t be seemly…”

“Nonsense! You’d be more than welcome. Come on!”

With that, Celestia bounded forwards and lit up her horn. Cinch felt the telekinetic spell squeeze her own leg and yank her forwards. Half-dragged, half-stumbling, she followed the clearly-crazed unicorn back up the hill, listening to her laugh and chatter every step of the way.

And that was how, half an hour later, Lady Cinch found herself seated unceremoniously at one infinitesimal corner of the round table. A massive round table. The thing seemed to be a ballroom floor on legs.

Not that the room wasn’t grand enough to accept it. Circular walls towered over them, with four arches marking the cardinal points of a giant compass whilst windows hid the night sky behind stained glass heroes. A colossal chandelier hovered magically overhead like a tantalizing cake of glass, one fit for a gathering of royalty.

The opulence was nothing to the uproar.

Cinch felt her flanks prickle with sweat. Everywhere she looked, there seemed to be unicorns talking, unicorns arguing, unicorns shouting, unicorns – mostly young colts and fillies – clambering over others vying for attention. Dozens and dozens of nobles, but all packed together and fighting for verbal airspace like a family of fecund earth ponies. Her own ears had long since shut down under protest.

It was no secret Celestia came from a well-to-do family. Celestia herself was formally known as Her Ladyship, Her Most Honourable, The Marchioness Celestia of Cosmopolitica, part of the Royal Peerage of Equestria. Unicorns had always obsessed over socio-political rank. Merely founding a new nation hadn’t changed that, except to reshuffle a few names and begrudgingly allow a few earth/pegasus ponies into the mix.

Over the centuries, they had evolved naturally anyway, from the feudal and military baronages of the tribal times (when their job was basically to assure the King of the Unicorns that yes, they would jolly well whack those flying fools/earth idiots for six if they looked at Him funny…) all the way to the modern incarnation, the Peerage, which involved being in or out of favour at court and looking good in a portrait. Their fighting days were… not over per se, because the realm still needed defending, but with all these new freelance heroes running around, they were optional at best.

Whereas Lady Cinch was just that: a lesser lady, not even a baroness. Specifically, she was Lady of the Sidesaddle Estates within Cosmopolitica. Her ancestors had once owned Sidesaddle County, but that had been back in the Old Country, before the windigoes forced them to restart elsewhere.

Put another way: sitting Cinch among this rabble was like inviting the janitor to a megacorp board meeting.

Celestia leaped next to her, red of cheek and wide of grin. “Terrific, isn’t it?”

Sitting ramrod straight, Cinch coughed delicately into her hoof. “It isn’t quite what I was expecting.”

“Aren’t you going to dive in?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You know. ‘Engage in discussion.’ You’re always game for a lecture. Well, now’s your chance!”

“Yes. Possibly. I hadn’t expected… chaos.”

Along the circle, unicorns of all colours and mane-styles did seemingly whatever they wanted. Cinch observed them: one focused and caused the nearby candles to flare like streams of plumage; one might have been nothing but a dark suit of armour dumped in place; one gestured and argued passionately with her neighbour; one appeared to be ferrying grapes into his lover’s mouth; one jumped onto the table in full jester costume, dancing and singing off-key, to the catcalls and cheers of her neighbours…

Cringing, Cinch made as if to leave. Then she caught Celestia’s eye. She sighed and sat down again.

“You’ll get used to it,” Celestia assured her. “I think you might enjoy it if you give it a chance.”

“DINNER!” bellowed the butler, expertly overriding the din. “IS! SERVED!”

Now this was more like it. Plates levitated overhead. Unicorns settled down, though only a little as discussions and experiments surreptitiously tried to have their cake and eat it too. Steaming odours overwhelmed many. Cinch herself had to lick her lips to hide the drool.

“Excellent chef,” she murmured.

“Ah, this is nothing,” said Celestia, veteran of many a fine meal.

Cinch smiled warmly. As custom decreed, she bowed her head low and silently offered her thanks for the traditional grace –

– and opened her eyes in shock as the riot continued around her. Several unicorns savaged their meals already.

“Good grub, want some?” Without waiting, Celestia plucked a roast aubergine stuffed with golden oats and marinated in a honey-rich cumin sauce. Then she washed it down with a glug of finest swan-white grape juice as though knocking back a beer.

“Ah. You don’t use cutlery?” Cinch looked down. She’d expected sixteen types of fork alone, but cutlery only arrived if you asked the servants for some: she’d watched another unicorn collar a passing butler.

“If you want to,” said Celestia generously. “Lovely tune, huh? Mom loves chamber music!”

“Yes,” said Cinch, glancing at the musicians ranged along one wall. “When you can hear it.”

Concerned, Celestia noticed her hesitation. “Something wrong, Cinch?”

“I would have thought the higher nobility would have been more… well…” Cinch squirmed around her class loyalties. “…noble.”

On her other side, she heard a curt voice declare, “Mother and Father have always been rather liberal regarding traditional etiquette.”

Cinch looked. Celestia’s younger sister, Luna, was the pure opposite of her sibling. Where Celestia was a supernova war, Luna aspired to become a black hole of peace. She regarded the rest of the table with a sort of indifferent serenity, even though Celestia’s excitement had swept over it repeatedly with laser-like destruction.

“Of course, some of us believe traditions serve a purpose.” Luna politely speared a morsel on her fork and introduced it to her moderate mouth for formal champing.

Celestia laughed as she spoke. “Oh, enough of that, Loony. Just throw yourself in and have fun, that’s my motto.”

“Indeed, my sister. I never would have guessed.” Luna continued her contemplative digestion as though it were a holy ritual. After a while, she cocked an ear. “It appears our elders are debating again.”

Strong words echoed over their heads from the far table. Dimly, Cinch could see the impressive figures of the Duke and Duchess. The Duke – Celestia’s father – was smacking the table and chewing and shouting at the same time, muzzle-to-muzzle with an equally burly fellow stallion. The Duchess – Luna’s mother – was herself fully engaged in respectable dining tranquillity.

Celestia whacked the table, rattling plates and serving dishes: food had been placed seemingly higgledy-piggledy. “Go, Dad, go! You tell Uncle Jove what’s what!” She turned to Luna. “What are they arguing about, sorry?”

“The current political situation, my sister. Which you would’ve learned, had you listened.”

“I don’t have your ears, Loony! Sorry, that’s not my fault!”

“True, though my mouth cannot hope to match yours, of course.”

Cinch had to stifle a laugh, and then was shocked she had one. “Aha. You refer to Master Star Swirl’s… unfortunate disappearance one week ago?”

Graciously, Luna nodded to her. In truth, they’d known each other long before now, mostly whenever they happened to cross paths in school – Luna was a few years below Celestia’s class – and Cinch always had time for someone who studied overtime and who truly appreciated the higher needs e.g. to not pull pranks and cause undue comment among peers.

“Naturally, Their Graces –” began Luna.

“Mom and Dad,” corrected Celestia.

“Their Graces have offered the Royal Family their support in these troubled times. Master Star Swirl is proving… difficult to replace.”

“Yes, I heard,” said Cinch politely, levitating a fork: she’d decided she could afford to tuck into her Thousand-Sauce Salad without fear of any more thrown paper balls from the scribbling unicorn three seats along. “Surely, a suitable candidate for Court Mage has been found by now?”

Luna didn’t even shake her head; she was that good at self-control. “Alas, who could possibly fill those horseshoes?”

“Sensei Meadowbrook has considerable magical knowledge.”

“Sensei? She lacks –”

Celestia grinned. “Which Meadowbrook would that be?”

Wisely, Luna ignored the bait. “She lacks practical skill. Have you not heard? According to Their Graces, or so they told me, Sensei Meadowbrook has spent years trying to apply her theories and forge enchanted items in honour of Empress Sable Spirit. So far, her research has availed her naught.”

“What of Father Kindle?” suggested Cinch, dredging her memory for more mages.

“Retired years ago. He says he has long since passed his prime.”

“Clover the Clever?”

“Hasn’t been seen in years.”

“Stygian? He was quite the scholar –”

“Disappeared, apparently along with Master Star Swirl.”

Cinch hummed over her plate. “It’s not like Star Swirl to leave us unprepared. Were there no safeguards?”

Luna paused to swallow. “Have you not heard? Shortly after Star Swirl vanished, his private chambers were ransacked.”

To her embarrassment, Cinch dropped her fork in shock. “What!? Impossible!”

“No perpetrator has yet been discovered. Doubtless one of his rivals was intent on stealing his spells for themselves.”

“Scandalous!”

“Yes, I quite agree.”

“Who would possibly do such a thing!?”

“At present? Practically every unicorn in the city, I should have thought. He had many rivals. I would not even rule out Sensei Meadowbrook.”

“Lun– Your Ladyship! For shame!”

Luna’s stare was as emotionless and unimpressed as the night sky over the puny shrieks of despairing ponies. “Regardless, Star Swirl and his Pillars have abandoned us. And there is worse. More and more reports reach us from the other counties: earth ponies are on strike, refusing to till the fields; pegasus soldiers are losing morale and losing battles on our borders; government unicorns are reduced to heated squabbling. We have no pillars. Without order, we crumble.”

A snort. The spell broke: Cinch had almost forgotten Celestia.

“Oh, Loony! Lighten up! We’ve always had problems before. We just need to believe in ourselves, like we always do. And count on each other as friends.”

Yet Luna shook her head, and in that shake a thousand years of weary experience twinkled like the eternal constellations… When she lowered her fork and turned to focus on them, Cinch felt for the first time awed by such quiet power, as if blinded by a moonlight she’d long treated as weak.

“No, my sister,” claimed Luna. “I fear the time looms when our nation shall find itself on the precipice of disaster.”

“On the what of disaster?” said Celestia cheerfully, but even she faltered under those abyssal depths, that empty greatness, her sister’s rising tide of iron.

They heard, as if from a distance, the bickering and casting of spells all around.

“We shall need someone who can take control of our brave young country,” intoned Luna, as though reading from holy writ. “The Old Country fell to the windigoes; we fled its baleful influence, we defy history here, yet it hounds our borders, ever desirous, never ceasing. Master Star Swirl’s apprentices never returned to the forsaken land from whence we came. It has grown wild. Unless a soul now proves themselves worthy, I truly fear for our future.”

Celestia scoffed. “Loony! You are so dour!”

Luna returned to her meal without enjoying it. Between them, however, Cinch and Celestia ate nothing more. Their minds had other fares to feast upon. Meatier fare by far.

Slowly, sumptuously, they began digesting Luna’s words…

Another evening.

Lady Cinch stood on the border of Equestria. Staring out to the west. Fields, forests, hills, and valleys: none pleased her. Nothing trustworthy in the peace of nature.

Past those landmarks, the distant horizon faded into white mist. The edge of the wintry wastelands, the borders of the Old Country, the permafrost home of the windigoes.

She stared. Challenging it.

Lady Cinch returned to the spot repeatedly, week after week, watching the haze grow. Bit by bit, the rolling hills became a huddle, the fields and forests became strips of green, the valleys filled with snow even in summer. Wasteland, encroaching.

She returned to the spot, listening to the cries of the windigoes. Their shrieking joy. Their mocking howls.

She returned when the leaves fell, when the snow strayed further than usual, when the valleys flooded and the trees bore fruit. She returned when the heat was unbearable, when even the windigoes withdrew a few miles in summer’s wake. Yet every summer she returned, she swore it retreated less and less, grew bolder and bolder.

She herself grew as if in retaliation.

She returned once, still in her graduation gown, watching the shapes in the swirling winds. Under the haze, the blizzard killed all plant life. She knew her beloved landscape was dying.

She returned the final time, sore of throat, shaken by memories of the towns and cities she’d implored, now with the army of converts alongside her.

She returned to the same spot. There was nothing before her now, save a white, wailing wall.

This far, and no further? Cinch… Cinch…

“Cinch!”

A shout from behind. Lady Cinch frowned and shook her head at her turning soldiers, then turned herself, armour clanking. Just in time for Celestia to skid to a halt.

Celestia was taller now, longer of horn. Her mane flowed more smoothly, though there were still frayed ends and rough strays ruining the outline. She had long since learned to limit her smile.

Gasping, she managed to speak: “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I am going to test a… theory of my own,” drawled Cinch. A twitch at the corner of her mouth, for the closest thing she’d get to a joke. “I tire of the constant fickleness and endless squabbling. And besides, is it not time for all unicorns to serve their country?”

“But… this isn’t…?” Celestia took a deep breath, then her bowed neck stood tall and regal, dignified. “Cinch, for pity’s sake, this is madness. Ponies have walked into windigo territory and never come out again. You can’t possibly –”

“I will reclaim the Old Country. I will create hope where there was once despair. And I will succeed. After all those lessons, don’t you think I would be ready for this challenge by now?”

“You’ll be frozen solid! Please, Cinch, reconsider –”

“No!” snapped Cinch, suddenly enraged by the softness in Celestia’s voice; even she was caught by surprise, though she rallied at once. “Dear Luna always had the right idea. This pestilence hounds our borders, and we have worse enemies than these by far. Chaos is closing in. We have wasted years bickering amongst ourselves. Is it not time for results?”

Celestia inclined her head. “Your mind is made up,” she murmured.

“Yes.”

“Nothing I can say will change that?”

“Hard work has always seen me through,” insisted Cinch. “I don’t see why it should fail me now.”

When Celestia looked up once more, there was a gleam in her eye that Cinch had never seen before. “I see. Then… I guess we won’t meet again.”

Finally, Cinch allowed herself one minor slip. She couldn’t be made of stone all the time. She bowed to Celestia, a mark of respect.

And was shocked when Celestia seized her in a tight embrace.

Cinch stood there, unable to respond. Beside her, the ranked soldiers coughed and shuffled their armour awkwardly.

As soon as Celestia released her, Cinch stared back trying to figure out what was written in Celestia’s wide eyes, flowing and wind-swept mane, shrunken, weakly melting lips…

In the end, she responded by not responding. Cinch about-turned and stamped once. Only when the army had disappeared through the veil of winter did she follow. She didn’t dare look back. She had no defence there. She could only trust in her duty.

When she was stung by the first snowflakes, she risked a glance back. Celestia was gone. Abandoned to her memories.

The Dressage Downs

Ten Years Later

From the border came a glint of gold. High in the sky, a midday star: the chariot, pulled by two pegasi in full golden armour. Sapphires glinted on the chariot and on their chests, daytime blue. They crossed over endless fields, forests, hills, and valleys on their way west.

The Most Noble, Her Grace, The Duchess Celestia of Cosmopolitica, part of the Royal Peerage of Equestria, peered over the edge of her chariot.

Ten years without Cinch had tamed her. Once, she would have bounced from side to side, admiring the views whilst chatting away with the two guards. Now, she sat contented as a lioness. The winds stirred her flowing mane, not that she needed wind: power sparkled among the hairs like stars in a flushed night.

Only her fidgeting hooves betrayed her.

She relaxed as the soothing green of the Old Country flowed beneath. In fact, she was deeply impressed. To think: thousands of tons of ice had once condemned this land to death. Times changed. So much had changed. Celestia had seen too much change.

On an impulse, she caved in and glanced far behind. The glint of another chariot indicated that Luna was catching up. She’d had to stay behind to quash a dark spirit attack on the northern border of Equestria. Evidently, she hadn’t needed long, but these attacks worried Celestia. No matter how much stronger their drive, the world always seemed to force them up steep cliffs. Sooner or later, they’d crash.

Which was why this visit was so hopeful. Good news at last…?

Finally, deep into the Old Country, she saw it.

A vast wall of crystal, punctuated by spire after spire which shone white as each caught the sunlight. The jagged outer rim of the city, marking the boundary between the rough forest and untouched grasslands outside, and the young civilization inside. Celestia saw the black iron gates that marked the only way in or out by land. They were topped with crystals like shark’s teeth.

Further in, she saw the usual arrangement, no different from Everfree City: the hovels and huts and humble abodes. Only here, the city was far more assertive in dividing itself. Another wall of crystal separated this thin hoop of an outer ring from the much more boastful architecture inside.

As they passed the inner wall, Celestia noticed windows and turrets on the jagged ramparts. Pegasus guards and unicorn soldiers had been posted on the spires.

The architecture became at once grander, vaster, taller, and yet more severe. Poplar trees stood guard, as menacing as the dart-shaped feathers of a gigantic bird of prey. Dark brickwork dominated, avenues and boulevards ran between metallic spires, crystallized arches insisted on dividing up the districts further into segments, cloud rings were arranged with clockface precision.

An invisible shimmering betrayed the aura of powerful magic. When Celestia looked up, she saw a convincing copy of the Fire of Friendship, a single heart burning over the citadel like a watchful phoenix.

Phoenix. Celestia’s smile broke out, in spite of all stately self-control.

Up ahead stood the palace.

It had been separated from the lesser buildings around it by surprisingly empty fields. The space seemed to do nothing but show off how much grass could be crammed in one place. It was at once wildly grandiose and cautiously modest.

The palace itself: a fusion of the same dark brickwork and crystal spires. Its core was earth, its edges ice, its windows like frozen ponds, its cloak of ivy so strictly controlled that it was barely discernible.

Two spires at the front marked the end of the road and the beginning of the steps to those arched portals, and thus to the harsh opulence within.

Celestia could see someone there already.

Her chariot lowered, slowed, landed with barely a bump. Celestia waited until the guards’ wings folded, then descended to the white gravel on the road.

Up ahead stood the princess of this land. She came down the steps to greet her guests.

Celestia watched her with professional interest. The same uptight stiffness in the limbs, the same hard-edged snout, the same aura of cool detachment like a blue forcefield…

Celestia spread her cramp-suffering wings.

The princess stopped. Taken aback. The only flaw in her smooth approach.

Quickly, she continued. Celestia folded her wings under a travelling cloak pulled from the chariot. It didn’t pay to draw too much attention to one’s achievements.

The princess smiled curtly as soon as she arrived.

“Welcome, Your Grace,” she said, “to the Dressage Downs.”

Celestia bowed. “Thank you, Princess Abacus Cinch.”

Then she couldn’t resist. She embraced Cinch. To no one’s surprise, Cinch didn’t move an inch, and promptly ignored it thereafter.

Cinch’s gaze fell upon Celestia’s wings beneath the travelling cloak. “I see you’ve had some adventures of your own, old friend. You must tell me about them sometime. But first, allow me to show you the glory of the ‘Old Country’ as a new country…”

“Magnificent, isn’t it?”

Coolly, Celestia was inclined to agree. Staring out from the battlements of the tallest crystal spire, the web-like layout of the citadel became much clearer.

Perhaps in her honour, perhaps as a matter of course, a parade of clanking, chanting soldiers marched down the main boulevard bisecting the city, under many arches and across one of the ornate bridges shackling the river. Crowds waved flags and cheered on either side.

High up on their vantage point, Cinch stood in the centre as host country and head of state. Celestia stood to her left. Luna, who Cinch noticed did not have wings yet, stood to her right.

All three of them stood gravely, as though attending a funeral march. Except for Celestia, who couldn’t resist leaning over the edge like a gawping child.

Cinch noticed. A zap of a smile sparked her lips.

“The Dressage Downs are not entirely secure yet,” she explained whilst sidelong-scanning every serene feature of her old friend’s face. “However, the remaining windigoes have nowhere to go. Once we have achieved total control here, my army will eliminate those remnants.”

“Eliminate…” Celestia stirred and straightened herself, at a cough from Luna. “Oh yes, of course. I noticed the Fire of Friendship over the city.”

“A primitive but useful collective spell. Thank my Sidesaddle Soldiers for that.”

On some of the flags, the pink “S” could be seen. Celestia watched the procession approach the main iron gates of the palace. They weren’t going to come in; they stamped in place and sang what was presumably the national anthem. She noticed how strict and regular the rhythm was, as if the tune had been measured with a steel rule.

They flared their magic like fireworks. Flames, plumes of water, whirring metal swords…

“You see,” continued Cinch, “Sensei Meadowbrook was on the right lines, but her theories – and those of all the other squabbling rivals – were sadly incomplete. It has taken me years to fully explore all the elemental possibilities of magic.”

She glanced at Luna. No reaction there either.

Cinch added, “Obviously, there is more hard work to be done.”

“I see you favour the lunar influence.” Luna’s pupils followed the metal and ice flying in the air above the soldiers’ heads. “Water and ice, earth and metal.”

“And darkness, yes, though we keep the knowledge of that particular element under tight control.”

“Tight control…” Celestia murmured. “Yes…”

“Overall, though, we do not discriminate. See the solar influence among my troops as well? Fire and light, lofty wind, a few wood and nature spells… lightning, as well. Our scholars at the Everton Academy have unearthed a strange but all-too-real connection between fire and lightning. Possibly ethereal. It is a most intriguing line of study, but it helped them recreate the old Fire of Friendship. A mere replica compared with the original, of course. Under our strong unity, however –”

Luna bowed her head. “We have much to learn from you.”

Meanwhile, Celestia did not take her eyes off the soldiers.

Cinch regarded her friend’s wings for a long time. “It’s a remarkable historical coincidence. First, the legend of Princess Alicorn, the only pony ever born with all three tribal natures combined, fated to bring peace to the warring tribes…”

“If she existed,” added Celestia.

Cinch’s shutter-quick smile could have meant anything. “Then all three tribes uniting on their own to bring another peace.”

“Mmm.”

“A union of tribal natures.”

“Uh huh.”

“Yet you have acquired yours.”

“Indeed.”

“I hear much from my contacts in Equestria, but not everything. May I enquire as to how you achieved this miracle?”

Celestia paused a little too long, as though distracted by the anthem.

“It’s a long story,” was all she said.

Eventually, Cinch looked confused, then frowned and looked away. “I see.”

“And it’s an interesting coincidence yourself, using the title of ‘princess’ and uniting all three tribes in this land.”

Luna gave a warning cough.

Cinch laughed idly. “An unofficial title. Once my government has achieved total control of the outlying regions and declared the Dressage Downs secured, we would gladly allow ourselves to be peacefully annexed by the new Equestria.”

Apparently having heard nothing interesting, Celestia suddenly pointed. “What are those?”

Irritated, Cinch followed her gaze: over the heads of the crowd, but drifting more purposefully elsewhere, the floating crystals seemed to keep watch.

“A necessary precaution,” she said. “They are called the Icy Curities. They curate – if you will – the citizenry on our government’s behalf.”

“Surveillance?”

“Indeed. I have united the three tribes from the Old Country, but not everyone is onboard with my program. That is why I need the Icy Curities to act as my eyes and ears. I told you: the Fire of Friendship is our defence, such defence requires unity, unity is threatened by dissent.” Amused, she turned to the impassive Celestia. “After all, I hear Equestria is still experiencing trouble in that area.”

“We have been busy, yes.” Celestia did not meet her eye.

“Hm, I daresay those would be long stories too.” Confusion and suspicion rolled across Cinch’s face, but she shook it aside. More warmly, she added, “But come, let me show you the crown jewel of this brave young nation: education.”

Luna’s ears perked up sharply.

Celestia’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. Education. I can’t wait.”

“…the Academy of Everton is, of course, nothing like as hallowed as Master Star Swirl’s old school, but with novelty comes innovation,” continued Cinch through another doorway. Luna kept eager pace alongside. Celestia grudgingly brought up the rear.

The Academy of Everton was a cathedral-sized building, itself annexed to the palace. Cinch had guided them through classroom after classroom, quietly whispering in corners whilst tutors talked, loudly explaining her students’ victories when they found themselves alone. Celestia was fighting not to yawn. Old habits died hard.

Crystal architecture or not, she noticed how similar the chambers were to their old school. Cinch had practically copied the facilities down to the scratches.

“Ah, an excellent opportunity.” Cinch held up a hoof, and the two sisters stopped.

Classes were very unlike the old school. Where Celestia had been used to the murmuring, chattering, tittering, and scratching of unicorns trying to get away with it under the tutor’s nose, here ponies of all kinds sat like rows of statues. Not a peep. Not a breath.

Celestia shuddered.

At the front of the class, a tutor and his assistant carefully positioned glassware as though constructing three-dimensional art. Bubbles and gurgles ran through the pipes, fleeing the burning spell the assistant’s horn now applied.

“We accept only the best and the brightest students,” announced Cinch, whilst around her the class fought not to acknowledge her existence. “Many go on to serve in our government. Others act as official taskmasters throughout the Dressage Downs.”

Luna leaned across to whisper, “What are they doing?”

“This?” said Cinch as though it were of no importance. “Potions class. Magic available to all tribes, and hence of great value to our united country. This class is learning Restoration.”

“I see.”

Suddenly, Celestia spoke: “A mixture of Mage Meadowbrook’s healing and Star Swirl’s sorcery…” She watched the tutor crumple something into a beaker. “…with a touch of Mistmane’s lotus petals for beauty, I take it?”

Cinch was impressed. “Wonderfully astute. Although we are a new nation, we see no reason not to use older theories as stepping-stones.”

“Stepping-stones?” repeated Luna.

“Our magical understanding has thus progressed to a grand unified theory. But I’m getting ahead of myself –”

Celestia coughed genteelly. “I was given to understand we were due a welcome feast…?”

Even Luna sighed at that.

Cinch rolled her eyes; she smiled, nonetheless. “Of course, some things never change. Do they, old friend?”

Apart from her undulating mane, Celestia remained still during the feast.

In the Governmental Hall, she and Luna were guests of honour either side of the “throne” – actually just a big chair with a pointy backrest. On either side, the government ponies sat and chewed almost in tandem. Celestia wished they didn’t. It creeped her out.

The central floor was clear, the better to demonstrate highly skilled entertainments. A troupe of unicorns surrounded each other. At first, they appeared to be fighting – the swift legwork and weaving horns reminded Celestia of the old dojo – but their spells (vines whirled, daggers orbited, a few thunderbolts arced in seconds) struck only air, dodged around each other, danced in beautiful lattices.

Politely, the spectators stamped their applauding hooves.

With her travelling cloak over her wings, Celestia relaxed. In truth, the chef’s delicacies sparked and cartwheeled along her tongue, taking her back to happier times with their perfection. The entertainments reminded her of the noise and bustle of friendlier times. She had to fight not to whack the table and whoop. But no, she was older now.

By contrast, Cinch slumped in her seat, dead-eyed and fidgeting.

Eventually, the Captain of the Sidesaddle Soldiers hurried through a backdoor to Cinch’s chair. Hurried whispers. Cinch straightened up and followed him out of the room with a careless: “One moment, please.”

Celestia rubbed her chin and caught Luna’s eye. They nodded and stepped away.

“Excuse us,” said Celestia cheerfully. “Which way to the little filly’s room?”

In the antechamber, they noted Cinch and the captain deep in heated discussion. Unnoticed themselves, Celestia leaned over to Luna.

“Now might be a good time to investigate,” she whispered.

Luna raised an eyebrow back. “You’re sure the reports were correct?”

“Increasingly so. I can sense a powerful magic nearby.”

“The Fire of Friendship, surely?”

“No. There’s more here than meets the eye. I sense another source of magic, deep below. You know what to do.”

Luna nodded. A slight shimmer, a collapse of her form: the starry shadow slid along the ground and out of the room.

Meanwhile, Celestia counted to ten, then stepped forwards, coughing politely. “Not enjoying the feast, Cinch?”

Both Cinch and the captain fell silent at once. Impatiently, Cinch shooed him away.

“I’ve never been one for relaxing,” she drawled. “Not when there is work to be done. A drink, perhaps?”

Celestia regarded the tray being offered. She selected the nearest cup, took a sip.

“Interesting flavour,” she commented.

“Apologies. My captain has the kitchen staff taste-test all food and beverages before it is served. Security is paramount. We have many enemies.”

They briefly listened to the tap of hooves and a few strings of chamber music. Clearly, the entertainments were reaching their climax. Celestia resisted the urge to go back and seize the joy.

“I take it you’re not just here to sightsee?” barked Cinch suddenly.

She knows, thought Celestia. Aloud, she said, “It has been a long time, old friend.”

“Yes…” Cinch let the word melt like a meringue on her tongue. “Have you met my new friend?”

With a whistle, Cinch gestured to the highest stained-glass window, which had a gap in its centre. Rushing through the gap with an answering shriek, the explosion of shards, the rush of razor winds, the entrance of the plumed peacock of ice.

They watched in awe as it circled around the antechamber, briefly conjuring a ring of snowflakes that settled and twinkled out of sight. The bird landed with a slide of feathers onto Cinch’s shoulder.

“My word,” said Celestia.

“Yes,” said Cinch, openly smirking. “Her name is Bludnox. She is a rare and unusual creature.”

“The Blizzard of Paradise.”

“She has been invaluable in combating the spirits of ice. But of course, you yourself have found a rare bird, by all accounts. A phoenix. Of fire.”

The Blizzard of Paradise preened her tail feathers as though the audience were of no concern.

“Ice and fire,” murmured Cinch. “Hot and cold. Light and darkness. Notice the solar and lunar patterns of duality? The elements are all aspects of this cosmic duality, which itself is the product of something more fundamental. Fuel for a new theory of magic.”

Celestia shrugged yet licked her lips. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed their talks, and was warming up for the role.

“That’s an old theory, Cinch.”

“But one vindicated by your remarkable skills. Celestial power over sun and moon.”

“I tend to favour the sun,” corrected Celestia, as though admitting to an embarrassing quirk in her bowling technique.

“Nonetheless, you have demonstrated that the seemingly disparate elements can be united.” Cinch’s gaze flickered towards the wings under the cloak. “Perhaps strengthened. You might consider it a pillar for a new age. One uniting philosophy.”

“That’s what Star Swirl used to say,” said Celestia. “He was the guiding principle for centuries. They said he’d lived for so long and ruled so firmly that the unicorns couldn’t imagine a world without him. And look what happened there.”

Cinch regarded her for several seconds. The blue eyes of hers were clear and deep, like the open possibilities of the summer sky.

“Precisely,” she said. “When all is said and done, Star Swirl was unreliable.”

“That wasn’t exactly what I –”

“Do you know,” continued Cinch, “that according to legend, Princess Alicorn – thanks to her exceptional condition – was said to be immortal? Philosophers through the ages hoped to recreate her miracle by fusing the three essences of ponydom, to no success. Yet here you are. I believe we might have hope after all.”

“You do?”

“Of course. For all your prancing about and idleness, you were a gifted student.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

Cinch stroked the feathered head of Bludnox. “My first act in the Dressage Downs was to seek out assistance: Bludnox here was my prize. It has taken many sacrifices to train her into obedience, and still I pay the price. Are you aware, for instance, that thanks to my years alongside this magical prodigy’s cold influence, my body will age much slower than usual? I am practically immortal. My legacy beckons, much like Star Swirl’s, but on a far grander scale…”

Silence.

Celestia’s eye narrowed to an arrowhead. In Cinch’s deep blue ones, she saw no sign of restraint. Neither life nor spark.

“Cinch,” Celestia said gently, “I’m worried about what I’ve been hearing from your realm. Creating the Dressage Downs isn’t just a call of duty for you, is it?”

Cinch’s eyes widened with surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Cinch, I know you. You’ve always overexerted yourself. I see it now in your tired eyes, your listless stance, your inability to know when to stop.”

“I have been nothing but dutiful!” Cinch protested. “Forget what my envious enemies say! There is one true pillar, Celestia! One security upon which the whole world can stand. You have sacrificed for it, too. You must understand.”

Deep inside her skull, Celestia switched masks. Her face became softer, rounder, like the sun behind a shrouding cloud.

“I’m still learning,” she admitted.

Out of old loyalty, Cinch reached up and patted her on the shoulder. “Come with me, old friend. Let me show you what I’ve achieved.”

The Underbelly

Luna’s shadow slid through the lower levels, past dungeons, along cellars, deeper and deeper into the catacombs underground. Her stars no longer twinkled: in the darkness, stealth was of utmost importance.

The underbelly of Cinch’s world.

Down here, slipping past the guards with ease. Luna felt the power, even more clearly than Celestia ever could have. Essence of darkness throbbed along her soul. A creature attuned to darkness, Luna had to clench her whole form to prevent it being flooded and drowned.

Unexpectedly, she found bars and chains.

Iron. The cold radiance stung as she drew close. She felt the power of raw, grounded metal. Its gravity squeezed her skull.

There were ponies down here too. Ponies dressed in rags. Ponies with no hope. Ponies who cringed at her passing, and whose bellies rumbled. Through her current senses, they smelled more of bone than flesh.

Luna’s heart hardened. The chambers down here echoed with unheard cries, silent woes, the invisible mass of misery that was the city’s secret.

She flowed on.

Cinch led Celestia into a cavern with edges and corners. A library, but one trying to recreate the night. Most of it was windowless, lost to pure black. Only light from the corridor spilled in, and the dull glow of Bludnox as she flapped and led the way.

“Hunting the Blizzard of Paradise was easy,” explained Cinch as she beckoned Celestia to follow. “Easy compared to my next task. The Fire of Friendship, combined with her ice powers, were enough to defend this place from the windigoes, but I needed better than a defence. I needed a way to fight back.”

“Against spirits,” said Celestia as though it was obvious. “But spirits can’t be harmed by conventional forms of attack. Even magic can’t do much against them on its own. You’d need something emotional.”

Cinch reached out and pulled a random book off the shelf. As she did so, something clicked deep in the wall. A grinding of crystal on brickwork, and the wall – complete with bookshelf – withdrew. Stairs glowed under her activated hornlight.

“Correct,” she said. “You’d know from experience.”

“That’s why you insist on unity, I take it?”

“That’s why I insist on hard work. Nothing can be achieved without discipline. Unity is but a bonus.”

Their hoofsteps echoed down the staircase.

Through the trials underground, through the cranking machinery, beyond galleries upon galleries of pony slaves, Luna’s spirit heard the psychic echoes of judgement over and over.

“Laziness in the workplace…”

“…incompetence at his job…”

“…repeat offender…”

“…constitutes high treason to the crown…”

Luna slid further on, following the trails of guilt and horror. There were many ponies up ahead. The smell of sweat and tears.

“…for these crimes, I find you guilty… guilty… guilty…”

The chamber widened into a grille. Luna’s shadow closed in, peered through.

“…the sentence: one hundred years hard labour…”

There were forges, furnaces, metalworks, and the rustle of hundreds of rags. Luna froze where she was, undulating.

“…may Cinch have mercy on your souls.”

“Tell me,” said Cinch as they emerged into a domed chamber, “what unites the sun and the moon?”

Celestia thought carefully, lighting up her own horn to match Cinch’s. It had to be a trick question, but she couldn’t see the answer…

“Nothing,” she said, defeated. “They’re polar opposites. That’s the point of the binary.”

“Yet you can control both.”

“To an extent. I already said I favour the sun.”

“Exactly.” Cinch waited as Bludnox flew across the far concave wall, revealing it to be nothing but an icy sheen. The ice sank into the floor as soundless as silk. “A shame: you have finally trained and disciplined yourself, and I congratulate you for it. Yet you haven’t gone all the way. Not like I have. The answer sits right under your nose, flies over your head both day and night. Allow me to enlighten you.”

The Blizzard of Paradise flared. The dark chamber beyond was revealed in pure blue.

Caught in the middle of strands of crystalline webbing, trapped in a shifting aurora borealis of an orb, something black had curled-up. Sloshing, bubbling, seething.

The air spiked: Celestia groaned, stood back hurriedly, kept her distance from the haunting remnants of shriek leaking out of the orb.

“The strong control both,” recited Cinch. “Light and dark. Day and night. Good and evil. Friendship… and hatred.”

Slaves.

Hundreds and hundreds of slaves.

Endless machinery, the sparkle of magic, the weapons of war: no wonder Cinch had progressed so fast. And the more ponies she unearthed from the Old Country’s winter wasteland, the more opportunities they brought for crime, the greater the scope for punishment.

When you aimed for the finest wheat, you ended up with a lot more chaff.

Luna’s shadowy spirit stirred. Right. Time to go. She’d seen enough…

A hoofstep. Luna turned.

The Sidesaddle Soldiers were right behind her.

Celestia gasped from the cold plunge, stepped back further, felt her energies waning.

Relentlessly, heedless of the shrieks of pain and rage from the orb, Cinch’s flat voice remained untouched. “I have done it, Celestia. I have become the one pillar. Look at us. Who else could unite two opposing forces?”

Celestia cried out, clutching at her head. Her wings flared in agony.

“I have worked hard on this hatred. I have cultivated it in all its varieties. It has taken a lifetime, but I finally see it for what it is. Hatred, well-earned. All those years watching you coast and cruise through life on your privilege while I struggled and scrimped to surpass you. I, a mere nothing!”

Celestia’s stomach was aflame. She breathed hard, readying herself to fight it.

“Hatred, turned on itself. Hatred is weakness; it shows us for the pathetic, failing nothings we are. But see! I have turned weakness into a strength!”

Celestia’s mind cursed, writhed, struggled to get any words out.

“Hatred, consuming the world. I won’t stand for any mistakes. No more flaws, no more failures, no more imperfections. Not from anyone. Not even me.”

Celestia found her voice through the squeezing pain. “But… the Fire of Friendship…”

“The Fire of Friendship, the Sea of Self-Hatred: really, Celestia, do you think I am that foolish? I have fed both. They and all elements are mere tools to me. What unites them is the same thing that unites anything. Hard work. Not so-called ‘gifts’: effort. Such crude divisions can be overcome, with the triumph of the will.”

Ice slid down Celestia’s back.

The soldiers lunged, closed in, fired.

Luna gave a shriek that echoed through the underworld –

“LUNA!” Celestia turned to flee, screamed, felt the poison cripple her wings and crash into the ground via her knees. Something dribbled out of the corner of her mouth. “You… You’ve poisoned me…”

“No. You are merely too weak to stomach this.”

Ice rose up from the ground, encased Celestia’s legs. A token effort, as she hardly felt the strength to flee.

Hoofsteps strode past. She sensed out of the corner of her cringing eye the passing blue light of Cinch, heard the distant echoes of her bird screech.

“Cinch!” cried Celestia through teeth fighting to grit. “This is madness! Is it worth throwing your soul away just to play with power?”

The hoofsteps paused. “Power that has created the greatest nation in history? Well, I’m sure my ‘soul’ won’t object.”

“But Cinch… I knew you were driven and talented, but where are you taking this!? Please, just stop and think.”

“Stop. And. Think. Coming from you, that’s pure irony. You think I didn’t know Equestria would become jealous of my accomplishments? That you would?”

“I heard what you were up to, yes. There are better ways, hundreds of them! We’re learning to coexist with them back home! We’re making progress!”

Cinch snorted. “There is only one way to settle our dispute. Words are easy. Actions are better.”

“Cinch! No!”

“Stop me if you can.”

The hoofsteps were already receding, and Celestia found herself lost to darkness.

Sunset red blinded her for a moment; Cinch waited on the white gravel, looking up at the rows of chariots. All black, with yellow zigzags and lines. The pink “S” stood out alongside each one.

The captain saluted, turned to her. “The army is ready to go, Your Highness.”

“And Luna?”

“We have her, Your Highness.”

“Excellent, Captain. Set a course for Equestria. We have some tiresome, ignorant students to enlighten.”

She nodded. On her back, the Blizzard of Paradise spread its wings, gripped Cinch in a freezing embrace, became her wings by proxy.

Rising from all over the citadel, marching out of its surrounding wall, the army of the Dressage Downs was on the move.

An hour passed. Cold, alone, afraid.

A light began to glow.

Finally, Celestia summoned the strength of the sun, even through layers and layers of earth. The ice shattered under her hooves. Her legs broke free. She fired up her wings and exploded, rising, scorching the stone steps and blasting through the library bookcase to smash a wall and follow in Cinch’s wake.

Duel for the Equestrian Fate

Equestria didn’t see them coming till the shadows fell.

In Star Swirl’s school, Master Jove – Sensei having been replaced long ago, and her line of successors too – was showing his class proper lightning conduction and explaining how it could solve all their magical problems. He noticed students clamouring and peering out the windows, then wondered why it was getting so dark and went to look.

In the Alikondo Dojo – now renamed the Star Swirl Memorial Duelling Chamber – two students were mastering the art of telekinetic grappling, and the surrounding crowd were yawning and chatting amongst themselves. Then someone burst in screaming. As one, the audience and both grapplers broke off to investigate.

The ponies of the estates beyond had already noticed the shadows. They now gathered, the farmers in the fields putting down tools and wandering as though hypnotized. Unicorns gathered at the edge of the city. Horns began to glow defensively.

The Dukes and Duchesses, the Marquesses and Marchionesses, the Earls and Countesses, the Viscounts and Viscountesses, the Barons and Baronesses, and all the lesser lords and ladies hurried out of their towers to the edge of Everfree City.

A shriek: the Blizzard of Paradise swooped once over the gathering crowd. In the bird’s wake, shards of ice settled on the ponies, freezing several, frightening the rest. Ponies fled or fought to get out of the way.

The Blizzard of Paradise swung round, hovered briefly, then landed on her master’s stationary shoulder.

Behind Princess Abacus Cinch, the entire army loomed. It covered the hill. It closed in on the city. It blocked out the setting sun.

Celestia’s wings fought against the pain. She’d been poisoned, she knew. Too much experience had taught her how it felt, but her muscles fought for every beat of the wing. She fought just to stay in the air.

Sparks and embers fell behind her. She had to use a spell to keep herself airborne, and already she sensed the fizzing of struggling magic.

Although she felt the urgency, it wasn’t what drove her on. This wasn’t about nations anymore. Now it was personal.

Cinch stood some way from the huts and hovels and humbler abodes that marked the edge of the city. Her expression was empty.

Her voice magically echoed across the city, but in dead, mechanical tones: “I am Princess Abacus Cinch of the Dressage Downs. At first, I believed it was my duty to subdue them for the greater realm of Equestria, and I alone have succeeded where others failed. It has become clear to me, however, that while the Dressage Downs prosper and thrive, Equestria remains as it always has, a threadbare backwater rendered slow and incompetent by infighting.”

With a lazy wave, she signalled the Captain of the Sidesaddle Soldiers. He swung something tantalizingly overhead. Within the ice block, two frightened eyes stared out.

“I am not interested in waging war. My goals are simpler: I will annexe Equestria peacefully to the Dressage Downs and give you the harmony and stability you so desperately crave.”

In the crowd, ponies suddenly had to hold back an elderly stallion screaming and fighting his way through. The captain’s horn raised the frozen Luna higher.

“I also have a hostage. It pains me to use such crude methods, but I wish to impress upon you my utter commitment to this goal. Stand down and bow to me, or be crushed. Starting with young Luna here.”

Uncertainly, the crowd stayed put. The elderly stallion froze, eyes wide with terror.

After a full minute, Cinch waved a hoof idly. The front ranks of the army surged forward. The captain’s horn flared. Luna’s ice cracked. Inside, Luna closed her eyes –

“STOP!”

It wasn’t Cinch. She looked up.

Between the army and the city, Celestia streaked like a comet and landed with a small crater. The impact made her stumble, sent shockwaves through their hooves, but she struggled and stood upright.

Cinch waved another hoof. The army stopped. The ice stopped cracking.

Now a change crept over Cinch. Where she’d looked listless and immobile before, her lips parted to reveal clenched teeth like glaciers melting to reveal diamonds. She leaned forwards eagerly.

“Ah,” she murmured. “Excellent. Finally, a challenge worthy of my skills.”

“Your Highness?”

“A moment, Captain. We have an audience… yes…” Coughing, Cinch projected her voice again. “Citizens of Equestria! On my honour as a princess, I will spare your nation… if a champion can be found to defeat me in one-on-one combat.”

“Your Highness!” cried out the captain over the surprised chatter of the crowds. “What are you doing?”

“Hush, Captain.”

Still struggling, Celestia stumbled forwards, breathing heavily. Her wings looked crumpled, her lips and cheeks twitched at stings of agony, but she refused to cower.

“Well, my friend?” bellowed Cinch, grinning like a gash. “Will you represent Equestria?”

Celestia’s horn sparked gold. “I will.”

Consternation rippled through the crowd. And through Cinch. Something about the way Celestia moved, the way she’d just clutched her stomach… here and now, that couldn’t possibly be influenced by the Sea of Self-Hatred… she’d used the technique often enough herself…

Fury snarled; Cinch rounded on her captain. “She’s been poisoned!”

“Er… yes, Your Highness?”

Cinch’s mind needed a few seconds to join the dots. Back at the antechamber, the captain had been there when she’d served the drinks…

“You poisoned her!?”

“I thought you wanted me to! You said she was the enemy! And we’ve always –”

Cinch struck a blow that sent him spinning and crashing to the ground. His spell cut out. Luna’s ice block crashed to the ground and fell over.

“You fool! This was supposed to be a fair match! As of now, you are dishonourably discharged!”

The captain lay where he’d fallen. At her approach, he yelped and scrambled backwards.

Yet she paused, ripped his chest plate aside, levitated a vial from his secret pouch. She held it up for all to see, Equestrian citizens included.

“Your Duchess has been poisoned! In the name of a fair fight, I shall now level the playing field!”

And to the horror of her own soldiers, she drank the vial.

Silence, except for the gulp, gulp, gulp of Cinch’s throat. Then she gasped, threw it aside, ignored the crash of glass, swayed where she stood, groaned her way forwards.

A demented smirk seized her muzzle. Curling strands of mane bounced off her eyes without them even blinking.

“First, Princess Alicorn. Then the founders of Equestria. Then the Pillars of Star Swirl. All miracles. All peacemakers. All failed. Because it’s not about complacency, or ‘talent’, or ‘gifts’!” she bellowed. “All these millennia, and yet we come back to the same single principle, the only one that ever works: hard work.”

Celestia stood still and regal as a queen’s statue. Cinch, however, stumbled and tottered her way to the clear arena between army and city, grunting in pain one second, suppressing a snigger the next.

“Well, Celestia?” continued Cinch. “Now it’s just you and me.”

“Like old times,” said Celestia.

Cinch stopped. They stood, staring at each other with undisguised loathing: Celestia’s face a sleek sword, Cinch’s a twisted monster.

Celestia’s horn glowed. “Alikondo?”

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure.”

Celestia’s spell levitated the captain’s sword, brought it forth, and sent it digging into the ground. Slowly, in utter silence, Celestia dragged it along one edge, then turned to drag it another. As the crowd backed off hurriedly, the edges of the arena – the “moat” – completed their square circuit.

Cinch’s horn flashed once. Out of thin air, a square river of water dropped down and splashed into the gap. Bamboo stalks sprouted around the edges.

Celestia’s horn glowed once. Sword slid into levitating scabbard, which she carefully slung over Cinch’s saddle.

Arena complete.

Both horns glowed.

Above Celestia, the sun rose, struggling against the purple clouds and dusty orange sky. Above Cinch, the moon rose, dragging out the stars. Half-moon: half-light, half-darkness.

They waited.

“So it comes to this,” muttered Cinch. “My discipline versus yours.”

Celestia said nothing.

Outside the arena, some enterprising colt dragged out a gong and struck once, twice, three times.

Silence.

Then…

Celestia cast the first spell. She didn’t bother with subtlety. Eighteen fireballs burst out of her horn and streaked over to Cinch.

Who responded instantly.

Blocks of earth slid out of the ground like titanic teeth. Several fireballs smashed into them and burst into nothingness. A few curved round, only to meet whips of water which stabbed through their hearts, cut off their supply, and disintegrated them. The last fireball met the flat of Cinch’s sword, swung, was batted up and over, back at Celestia.

In the second Celestia focused on redirecting it, Cinch’s ice gripped her hooves. Shocked, she barely had time to look down when the lot spiked up, throwing her back.

Out of the arena.

Celestia landed hard on her side. She wheezed. Equestrians gasped, nervously began to surge forwards.

Cinch stood there, mane starting to stream out of her tight bun. She allowed herself a small giggle, then invited a harsh laugh, then couldn’t help herself. She cackled at the top of her lungs and danced on the spot.

“Again!” she cried.

Confusion held both sides at bay.

“I will allow a rematch!” Cinch beckoned Celestia forwards.

Hesitant, Celestia staggered to her hooves. Then she stepped forth, back into the arena, back into position.

“What are you doing?” she whispered when their bowed heads were close enough.

“I have a point to make.” Cinch didn’t even seem to notice the voice-enhancement spell was still active. Or else she didn’t care. “Again!”

After the colt unfroze, the gong rang.

Celestia went for a subtler attack. Swirling around the arena, the hurricane she conjured ripped armour from unsuspecting soldiers and fluttered rags and robes among the citizens. Viciously, the winds struck like claws.

Cinch’s water shield rushed as a sphere around her, deflected the winds, sent back spiralled tendrils to shape the currents. Then the whirling armour glowed under Cinch’s next spell. The metal chunks were cast against the wind, shot back, closed in on Celestia, and struck her as a massive fist.

She crashed outside the arena.

Cackling, Cinch crumpled the armour and waited for the wind and water to die down. “Again! And as a generous gesture, if you defeat me even once, the challenge is yours!”

The gong rang a third time.

Celestia’s sun seemed to flare for a second. She lowered her horn to the ground. Around them, the bamboo stalks snapped off, swung through the air like helicopter blades.

Cinch’s army cried out as their swords were levitated up, shot forwards, and sliced decisively through the bamboo.

Roots burst out of the ground and wrapped around Cinch’s legs, ready to propel her out of –

A crackle of ice. The stalks spiked, were punctured, fell to pieces. Flashes of metal destroyed the rest. Then jets of water spiralled around Celestia. She smashed one aside with a flare, deflected another with a gust, but the third hit her belly with an uppercut and allowed the forth to punch her out of the arena.

“Again!” Cinch’s mane was a complete mess. She burst with life, light on her hooves, weaving her horn back and forth like a boxer. “How about this: if you win, the Dressage Downs will never attack Equestria!? Think you can achieve that!?”

The gong rang a fourth time.

“Fire, air, ‘wood’… classic solar spells! So predictable, Celestia! I am the better learner, you are aware!? I know every move you’re going to make! I know you!”

Celestia’s lightning struck.

Vanished down the planted swords to earth harmlessly into the ground.

Cinch’s grin could have sliced better than any sword. Her levitated boulder was her answer, knocking Celestia out of the arena, sending her tumbling and crumpled into the groaning citizens.

Then Cinch and Celestia groaned. The poison refused to be forgotten, clawing and slicing at their insides.

A shriek, overhead.

Brighter than the sun, flapping wings of pure red, the phoenix burst forth from the tallest tower. Cinch, the soldiers, the crowd of citizens: they could only stare.

Celestia squinted, ached at the spasms claiming her. “Philomena…”

“A phoenix?” Cinch glowered at Celestia. “So the stories were true.”

The phoenix dived towards Cinch, made her duck at the last second, flew right on trailing flaming feathers. It curved round for a second attack. It did, however, find the time mid-curve to blow a raspberry.

Cinch leaped back to her hooves in fury. “Oh no, you don’t!”

Gave a whistle.

Just as Philomena the Phoenix came down for a second attack, Bludnox the Blizzard of Paradise rammed into her. Both birds broke off from each other. Philomena waggled her tailfeathers mockingly. Squawking with affront, then screeching with rage, Bludnox gave chase over the towers.

Growling, Cinch hurried back into position. “There will be no cheating here! One more round! See if you can get lucky!” She spat.

Slowly, Celestia rose to her hooves. Parts of her spasmed and twitched under the strengthening poison, but she barely cared. A small smile graced her lips.

Whereas Cinch breathed heavily, offended and poisoned, Celestia didn’t seem to need mortal breath at all. Something divine kept her aloft, something calm reassured all who gazed upon her.

This, more than anything, contorted and pressured Cinch’s rictus further. Demented. Frustrated. Unrestrained.

Barely had the gong struck for the last time when Cinch’s crystals of spearing ice stabbed up from the ground to meet Celestia…

…whose horn turned black.

Purple streams trailed from her eyes. Green lit up her gaze. Flat bubbles of violent pink and purest darkness boiled along her horn. And ponies all around swore, for a moment, that the moon’s light and dark halves gave a single pulse.

The crystals of spearing ice turned black, cracked, shattered. Celestia’s tide of shadow – the escaping poison – sizzled over the grass and rushed down to Cinch, who didn’t have a chance to gasp when it struck.

She tumbled, grunting, out of the arena.

No one – soldier, citizen, Celestia – moved for a minute. Cinch just lay there, too stunned to respond.

Not for much longer, though: she practically teleported to her hooves. Her rictus, already monstrous, now invoked the pale horrors of the eldritch realm, where despair and pain were but drops in an agonizing ocean.

Celestia regarded her coolly. No gloating. No triumph. No joy.

Eventually, Cinch’s face returned to something mortal. She merely scowled.

Yet she signalled, waited for her army to turn and start the long, clanking trek back home. Then, with the greatest and most obviously strained reluctance, she forced herself to look away from Celestia.

In passing, Cinch melted Luna’s ice block. Luna gasped, fell over, coughed, and spat water onto the grass. Celestia hurried over to help.

They both stared downhill, watching the retreat of the Dressage Downs. As the moon set, the blue comet of the Blizzard of Paradise swooped down to join her defeated master.

Epilogue: The Death of Ambition

It was not enough to win. Others must lose.

Back at their palace, no one troubled Princess Abacus Cinch for a week. She remained locked away in her own private chamber, fed only by nervous servants who left trays outside the door and then galloped away. The government ruled in her stead as best it could.

Eventually, the Captain of the Sidesaddle Soldiers – the new captain – knocked on her door.

“Your Highness?” he said.

The long pause sank his heart, and then he heard: “Come in, Captain.”

Not sure if he was grateful or regretful, he slipped inside.

Cinch’s bed chamber was plunged in darkness. When he shut the door, only the gossamer glow of the curtains proved that light existed at all. He could just see the four-poster bed framed there. When he stepped forward, something crunched underfoot. Instantly, he stood still.

It was almost a relief when Cinch’s horn lit up. She wasn’t on the bed. She sat at a private desk next to it, away from the hated gossamer glow. Her reflection had lit up its horn too – a mirror? – except when the captain checked, there were faint pictures behind it. An old painting?

He couldn’t help himself. As he squinted, he saw young faces in the picture. Two young faces. One was unmistakeably Cinch, though thinner and less lined about the eyes. The other could only be Celestia: her mass of pink mane was similar to the undulating beauty she bore these days.

Too late, he noticed Cinch’s reflection regarding him. He coughed awkwardly and saluted.

“Speak,” she croaked. Dust stirred on her breath. A few papers slid off her piled-high desk.

“Your Highness,” he said, bowing. “The Dressage Downs need their ruler.”

“They will get her.” Cinch frowned at her reflection. “But is it she who needs them?”

“Your Highness?”

Princess Abacus Cinch stood up so fast the captain fell on his haunches. She peered closer at the painting behind the glass, at the past.

“I am what I have always been,” she declared. “A hard worker.”

“Yes, Your Highness! Your devotion is beyond question! None can fault you there!”

The look she shot him was… weak, uncertain, softened. Then she tightened it again, until it became as blunt in purpose as an unsheathed dagger. It was a relief she turned it back to the picture. Then her spell lit up, she growled, and the magic tore the picture in half, erasing the hated half.

“And I will get what is mine,” she promised.

Young Celestia remained in the good half of the picture. In the now-empty half, the left side of Cinch’s haggard reflection glowered back with pure venom. Tormenting, mocking, like a demon in darkness.

Far, far away, at the top of Celestia’s tower, Luna pored over scroll after scroll, absentmindedly shuffling and stacking the tidied leftovers on Celestia’s desk. Her ear twitched when she heard the door click shut.

“Still working on The Pillars’ Progress?” Celestia said.

Luna cried out in frustration and tapped a quill meaningfully against the wood. “Tidying up your mess, as usual, my sister. And I thought I’d take the opportunity to prepare for a debate. Another debate! After ten years of this, I fear we will never reach consensus!”

“Relax, Luna,” said Celestia; Luna heard her walk over to the arched window. “Always the dour one, huh? That’s probably a good thing. Too much consensus kills the spirit.”

“And to rub salt in the wound, I must forsooth partake in a parliamentary debate! It is ridiculous! Now the earth ponies demand a mixed army to reflect the mores of the Equestrian Age! I ask you: what is wrong with the current regiments?”

“Perhaps you should ask: how could they be improved?”

The tones were faint and distracted. Luna turned to see her sister admiring the deepening violet of the twilight.

“Something on your mind, my sister?”

“Always,” said Celestia, heavy with melancholy. “And always shall there be.”

“It is not like you to be so dour.”

Celestia’s mane undulated. Luna took a chance to admire the strong wings tucked tightly along her sister’s back. One day, perhaps, she would understand how it was done…

She guessed what was troubling Celestia. “Do you believe we can trust her?”

“Cinch? I think so. She might not like it, but she’ll concede the loss. I think Equestria will be safe from her.”

The silence of the night settled like snow on their brows.

“Back in the Dressage Downs…” Luna hesitated. “…I sensed something cruel and powerful in the darkness beneath the city.”

Celestia peered up at the emerging twinkles of stars. “I sensed it too.”

A flicker of annoyance crossed Luna’s nose: she wished Celestia had kept to her own specialities, and yet here she was, just as able to trespass on her magical territory as to raise the sun on her own. It was most vexing.

Partly out of spite, Luna continued, “Then you know what it is, of course. What lies in Cinch’s heart.”

“Yes, but she knows it too. She’s too clever to succumb to that power. With that self-hatred comes self-control, a desire to keep herself under intense scrutiny. Poisonous hatred, kept at bay by cold ice. Why do you think she insists on crowds?”

“Vanity,” replied Luna promptly.

A slight chuckle. “Maybe you’re right. Or maybe we haven’t seen the last of her. She always wants everyone to know she’s a winner.”

“Even after all she’s accomplished!? What more could she possibly do!?”

Celestia focused, and her magic raised the moon higher. Half-light, half-dark.

“Perhaps that’s the wrong question,” she whispered sadly, hypnotized by both halves. “Perhaps the question is: who is she really doing all this for?”