The Crown of Sands

Chapters

Chapter One - The Guard and The Stranger
Chapter Two - The Catacomb and The Shadows
Chapter Three - Memories and Nightmares
Chapter Four - The Stranger and The Sky
Chapter Five - The King and The Crown

Chapter One - The Guard and The Stranger

It was a cold, cloudless night. Luna's moon stole slowly up the ebony canvas of the sky, a bold shot of light amidst the twinkling stars. Despite the heat that broiled the cream colored dunes not two hours before, a chill stole through the camp, and the armor-clad pegasus seated at the edge of the raised stone platform rustled his wings with a shiver. Behind him, the other guards slept soundly in a series of neat, well-deployed tents.

The platform was cracked and buffeted by centuries of wind and sand, but the pillars all around its edge remained erect, refusing to buckle to the elements. At the center of the platform, a staircase descended down, ringed on three sides by low stone walls with intricate decorative carvings along them. At the bottom of the stairs, an iron door large enough for ten ponies to walk through side by side and tall enough for a dragon to pass loomed from a drift of sand.

The pegasus shuddered again. I hope there's not a dragon in there. All the Royal Guard knew about this was that Princess Celestia had some urgent business to attend to below, in what she called the Catacombs. She needed the Guard to protect the ruins. Not that anything's going to happen, Lightning Arc decided, sweeping his clear blue eyes back up over the vast night sky. The hardest part about this assignment had been flying all the way here through the sweltering heat in their armor, carrying saddlebags of supplies.

Arc scanned the horizon again, but still nothing caught his eye. In the pale light of the moon, he could see nothing for miles. He stifled a yawn of boredom. Arc wasn't tired. He simply wouldn't let himself be until somepony woke and relieved him. That didn't mean he wasn't dreadfully bored, however. Once camp was set up and everypony else went to sleep, absolutely nothing had happened. All that changed was the smooth, easy arc of Luna's moon above and the growing darkness all around.

“It's a beautiful night.” The soft, light voice sent Arc to his feet with a start, and he spun about to face the speaker. An off-green unicorn mare with a silver mane stifled a laugh at Arc's wide eyes, leaning back against one of the pillars. “Don't panic, soldier, I'm unarmed!”

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” Arc questioned, suspicious. He started to move away from the edge until he was facing the stranger directly.

“Just somepony passing through, thought I'd stop off and wish our boys in gold the best.” The mare pushed herself away from the pillar and turned to the edge. She had a set of saddlebags on, which bulged from the contents.

“Thanks.” Arc was taken aback for a moment by the nonchalant answer. “Now, you should leave. This is a serious operation, and nopony should be here.”

“Then why are you here?” The unicorn's question was tinged with false innocence as she grinned sardonically. She sat herself down on the edge of the cold stone platform, reclining back on her front hooves and letting her back hooves hang over the edge.

“You know that's not what I meant,” Arc hissed, suddenly very conscious of his comrades sleeping meters away. How much trouble could I get into if I'm caught with some stranger wandering around the camp? “Look, I'm thankful that you came to show your support and all, but you should really get going.”

“Nonsense, the night is still young.” The unicorn patted a spot on the edge next to her, slipping off her saddlebags and placing them on her other side. Her pale pink eyes glinted as she grinned deviously.

“What's in the bag?” Arc asked cautiously. He was curious about this clover colored stranger despite himself. A nervous glance over his shoulder didn't reveal any of the other guards stirring. In answer, the mare flipped open one of the bags and pulled a hard-covered book free with a pink-tinged spell.

“Just a book I'd like you to read,” the unicorn beamed with forced civility, floating the tome to the nervous-looking pegasus. Carefully, Arc lifted a hoof and took the blue book from the pink aura.

The cover had a square illustration of a white viaduct, a long stone bridge supported by dozens of arches on a background of inky blackness. A single small pegasus was atop the viaduct, an abstract gray silhouette. The title was emblazoned above the illustration in bold white letters; Descending.

“What is this?” Arc asked, one eyebrow raised as he looked up. There was nothing but the twinkling night sky and the rolling sand dunes into the distance. The unicorn mare was gone.

~ ~ ~

Against his better judgment, Lightning Arc read as much of the book as he could by the moon's clear, pale light. It seemed like a pretty good story. From what he gathered in the low light, it was about a pegasus adventurer delving into the Catacombs themselves. The author insisted in the forward that it was based on a true story, but the tale quickly got bizarre.

“Glowing gems illuminated vast cavernous spaces, crossed by innumerable marble staircases and viaducts.” That seemed believable enough. “Despite the intense heat above, it was absolutely bone-chilling below.” Arc shuddered again as another cold breeze sent a flurry of silt dancing over the dunes. That makes sense, he contended, turning his attention back to re-reading the text.

“As our hero descended along the sloping viaduct, a trio of shadows scuffled up after him. First one, and then another and the last, threw themselves prostrate at his hooves. Bipedal creatures, covered in mangy fur with slit-thin yellow eyes glinting in the shadows; these were diamond dogs.” Arc stifled a chuckle at the thought of three bumbling, furry miners stumbling over themselves to bow to a pegasus. Nothing those dogs do ever makes sense. Maybe they were squatting here however long ago, maybe not.

“'Hail, champion! May you continue on to the glory you seek!' The three beasts spoke in unison, their commonly grating, confused voices lost to calm, even tones. The sound echoed around the vast space, finding itself again in our hero's ears as they flatten against his head.” Now that makes no sense at all, Arc scoffed, Who ever heard of a diamond dog with enough sense to speak properly?

“'What do you mean, foolish dogs? I seek no glory, only to serve my Princess with honor,' our hero rebuked the dogs disbelievingly. Commonly, he would have marveled at their civil tongues, but now he was set for his goal. He began to trot past the prone forms, scarcely pausing to glance downward.” At least this 'hero' has a noble goal, Lightning Arc mused, glancing over his shoulder at the rows of tan colored tents.

“'We mean not to impede you, champion. We mean only to tell you of your fate,' the dogs whimpered humbly, pressing their faces to the smooth marble. ‘You are meant to be grander than you know.’ At their words, our hero stopped mid-stride and tensed. This wasn't the first time somepony had spoken so admiringly of his destiny.” I've been there, Arc noted sympathetically. Nothing caught the attention more than somepony talking like your fate wasn't plastered on your flank. Granted, it had been his grandmother. Whose grandmother didn't think they were meant for something more?

“'What is it that you want from me?' Our hero's voice was practically a growl. In his experience, no dog fed you compliments unless it wanted something.” A shuffle caught Arc's attention. A strong hoof caught him by the shoulder and shook him.

“Wake up! Your shift's over, lazy flank.” The white pegasus guard pushed Arc aside. Arc snapped the book closed and crossed over to his tent. Reading isn't any more attentive than sleeping, he reminded himself, holding his tongue as he pushed through the flaps and tossed the book into one of the corners. Careful not to make too much noise, he pulled off his armor and set it in a neat pile by the end of the tent. Finally, he turned to settle into the plain cloth sleeping bag.

A hoof, pale green in the moonlight beaming through the flaps of the tent, reached quickly from the shadows and covered Lightning Arc's dark gray muzzle. Another followed the first and grasped his hoof as it moved to strike the one over his mouth. The grip was as solid as iron. A form wrapped suddenly around Arc's, back legs tightening around his stomach and holding his wings in place. The hoof holding his released, the form pressing against him pinning his front legs to his chest.

“Quit struggling,” the unicorn mare hissed into Arc's ear. She released his hoof and carefully freed her legs. “Quiet down, it's just me.”

“Are you insane!?” The edge in Arc's sharp whisper was hard to miss. “Do you seriously want to be locked up?”

“Not really,” The mare shuffled away into the shadows, still visible but fainter. “How are you liking that book?” Her voice was teasing and light, but her eyes picked out the book on the other side of the tent and locked onto it.

“It's ridiculous, take it back!” The pegasus gave an indignant flap of his wings, careful not to make a sound against the thin cloth walls. The feathers had been messed out of place by the mare's grab.

“Nah, keep it. It'll grow on you,” The mare purred, a mischievous grin splitting her clover green muzzle at Arc's harsh answer. “Besides, who knows. It might come in handy.”

“Maybe if I need to start a fire,” Arc mumbled. “Now, you really need to get lost before somepony catches you in here.” He pointed a hoof out the flaps and gestured with his head, as if one would be misconstrued without the other.

“Fine, whatever. I'll catch you later,” The mare crossed to the flaps, pausing to peak out before exiting. “I'll be back when that book starts really getting interesting.” With that, she disappeared into the night. Listening close, Arc couldn't hear her hooves moving away. Whoever she was, she was good.

~ ~ ~

The next morning started as the red sun began to crest the creamy dunes along the horizon, casting orange light across the rows of neat tents and snapping the guard seated at the edge of the platform back to consciousness. The armored mare cursed under her breath and trotted between the rows, finding the tent she was looking for near the center. Inside, the occupant was already stirring.

A yellow stallion, short for his age and thin, pushed through the flaps of his tent and pulled a brass horn to his lips. The mare scarcely had time to cover her ears before a sharp, loud retort sounded from the horn. It was met by a chorus of snorts as the sleeping guards across the platform were dragged away from their dreams. Quickly, they gathered their equipment and mustered in the space opposite the tents, a few stifling yawns as they lined up and snapped to attention.

Lightning Arc considered the navy blue volume for only a moment before slipping it under his chest plate and joining the others. If it's going to get interesting, I may as well keep it if I need to kill a moment or two. He stepped into the second row, third column spot he had been trained to assume, and stood at attention.

They hadn't been there ten seconds before their commanding officer joined them. Stone Thick was a strong, capable leader, but a bit harsh. He stood taller than most stallions, with a not-unimpressive wingspan of five feet, and he was built like a solid wall. His coat shared the color of his namesake, a cool light gray his short white mane seemed to fade into at the ends.

“Who in Celestia's name was on watch when her majesty's sun rose!?” Stone barked, eyes glowering below thick white brows. The guard in question sheepishly raised a hoof. “A hundred and fifty laps around the perimeter, full speed!” The mare slipped out of the ranks and took flight, armor clinking and jangling awkwardly as she flew.

“The Princess herself is expected to arrive soon,” Stone continued, his voice a deep baritone rumble. “I want camp broken by the time she gets here, and everypony ready to descend the instant she gives the word. Trot to it!” The ranks broke and the guards dispersed, each hastily pulling down and folding their tent as Stone circled them critically.

One of the rookies tore a hole in his sleeping bag just as Stone passed by him, joining the mare above before he could mumble an apology. Stone expertly finished packing the rookie's gear, tucking it away well before the young pegasus finished his first lap. For a moment, the rookie thought he was getting off easily enough. Then, Stone added several heavy rocks to the saddlebags and had the rookie put them on.

Lightning Arc found it an easy task to pull down his tent, and the folding passed quickly enough. He was among the first to muster again opposite the former campsite on the wide platform, saddlebags slung over his armor. The sun pulled higher into the sky, its orange-tinged light quickly turning white. Quietly, Arc let his mind wander.

Who was that mare? Arc pondered, the clover green stranger appearing again in his mind. He had forgotten her cutie mark, but her spiky silver mane and tail would be hard to forget. Where did she go? Well, the answer to that had been easy enough until she left again. Clearly when she disappeared, she simply slipped away and hid in the first unoccupied tent she found. From there, who knew?

Finally, the other guards gathered and Stone called the sweating fliers back down to the platform, admonishing the rookie for not completing his laps. The rookie grumbled quietly as he took his place, careful not to let Stone hear him. The icy glare the officer shot after the young pegasus told him he failed.

They only had to wait for a few minutes before a chariot came into view above. A quartet of strong guard stallions pulled it after them as they flew, harnesses fit carefully into grooves in their armor. As their hooves hit the stone platform, the guards in formation bowed their heads as Stone did the same.

“Captain Stone, please rise.” Princess Celestia stepped clear of the chariot as Stone complied and stepped forward, standing at attention. “I need everypony ready to enter the Catacombs.”

“We're ready, your Highness,” Stone said humbly, gesturing for his guards to rise. Lightning Arc stole a look at the stallions harnessed to the chariot.

They just stared straight ahead, patiently waiting for the Princess to need their services again. They were members of Celestia's personal Solar Guard, Arc realized. The Solar Guards were renowned for stoic loyalty to their Princess, never changing their neutral expressions no matter what.

Arc remembered his uncle. He was retired back then, but even years after his service he could still put on the neutral face and not take it off without wanting to. Arc used to spend hours trying to get his uncle to crack a smile during their games, but he could never manage it. Uncle made a killing at poker. Arc suppressed a chuckle at the thought of Uncle's poker buddies grumbling as they pushed stacks of bits across the old oak kitchen table.

“Everypony, fall in!” Stone called, and Lightning Arc stepped in line with the others. They advanced toward the staircase, Princess Celestia leading them. The first row descended a step, and then another, and then Arc could see over the plumes on the tops of their helmets. The Princess' stark white frame easily stood head and shoulders above the others, making even Captain Stone seem short as he stepped down alongside her.

The massive iron doors were intricately carved with the image of a draconequus curling around a forest, its talon and paw the handles. As they descended, Arc marveled for a moment at the skill that went into it. A gleam of light fell upon the handles, matching the aura around the Princess' horn. Slowly, heavily, the great iron doors squealed in their hinges as they opened inward. Through them, Lightning Arc could only see inky shadow. A strong gust sent the low drift of sand tumbling into the darkness.

Who knows, maybe we'll find some dogs down there, Arc mused as the Princess stepped through the massive doors, followed close behind by Captain Stone and the first row. Finally, Arc himself stepped through. Twenty five Royal Guards, four Solar Guards, and the Princess of the Sun herself? I think we can take them.

Chapter Two - The Catacomb and The Shadows

The staircase continued down for ages in the dark. Lightning Arc moved along in the formation as the guards descended, their hoofsteps clicking and clacking on the smooth stone stairs, their armor clinking. It would have been pitch dark, had it not been for the soft glow from the Princess' horn, passing through a forest of spear hafts. Her long legs took the steps two at a time as Captain Stone hurriedly did the same.

The stairs ended abruptly, landing in a small chamber walled by gray bricks with a complex looking stone door set into the opposite wall. A thin wooden door was wedged imperceptibly into the corner behind the guards as they filed into the room and Princess Celestia came to a stop before the engraved stone door. She seemed to be studying the symbols thoughtfully.

“Stop right there!” A voice boomed from beyond the small wooden door as it was kicked open by a lion's paw, the owner swiftly darting out around the stunned guards. In one talon she clenched a small ax, and on the other she bore a round steel shield. The guards lashed at her with their spears, but she passed through the crowd like a vapor, wings beating and hind legs running. She was a griffon, and she darted forward, ax leading, at Princess Celestia.

The griffon lass' ruby eyes went wide when she saw her target. Her axehead stilled, a mere hair's length from the princess' marble colored neck, and the scowl on her face melted into a sheepish grin. The guards closed around her, leveling their spears at the griffon's throat as she bowed her head.

“Good to see you, Edith,” Princess Celestia said calmly, waving the baffled guardponies away. “I trust all has been quiet since I was last here?”

“Of course, your majesty.” The griffon lass' tone was humble, but she beamed at the princess as she looked up.

“And the others?” The princess allowed herself a small smile at the griffon's pride.

“Nolan and Bertha went below, and Vince is sleeping,” the lass answered confidently, indicating the door she had kicked open with a nod.

No way anyone slept through that, Lightning Arc mused, poking his head through the wooden door frame. To his surprise, he saw a few cots along the far wall, one occupied by a softly snoring griffon. A piece of half-eaten bread sat abandoned on the table between the beds and the door, probably where Edith had been eating breakfast before she heard the guards descending.

“Would you please open the door for us, Edith?” Princess Celestia asked politely, stepping aside.

“Of course. Is there something wrong down below?” Edith crossed to the door. She was the youngest of the griffon guards as Nolan's apprentice, and Nolan had made it a point to forbid her from descending without him. He never went far with her, just stopping at the landing of the staircase to check the torches further in.

Edith slipped her talon into the intricate carvings, her claw scratching a careful pattern through the network of shallow grooves before coming to rest in a perfect talon-print set into the center. The door shuddered for a second, unearthing a small shower of dust, before sliding into the wall with a quiet scrape.

“Thank you, Edith,” Princess Celestia said, stepping into the staircase beyond the door.

“Of course, Princess, it was my honor,” Edith chuckled genially as the guards filed past her. “Watch your steps down there, everypony.”

~ ~ ~

Nolan moved carefully along the walkway overlooking a shadowy room. Amidst the shade below, a slightly darker shadow shifted and moved along with him. Bertha's glinting violet eyes cast the faintest of lights on the urns lining the chamber below. The torches in this room had burnt out, and they would have to relight them soon, but they had no trouble seeing almost as well in the dark as they had in the torchlight.

For now, Nolan and Bertha lurked in the dark, sharp eyes scanning every detail. There had been urns disturbed here and there, as if someone had been sifting through the precious contents inside each. If someone was down here, they were a threat to the Catacombs' security. Princess Celestia's instructions had been clear; only the Princesses were allowed inside the Tomb, and if someone were able to get inside the Greater Catacombs, there was a chance they could get into the Tomb.

The sound of a multitude of approaching hoofsteps set the feathers on Nolan's head on end, and he turned to face the sound approaching from the gate. He quickly but quietly slid to the edge of the walkway, perched right above the wooden gate as Bertha slipped against the smooth stone wall next to the door, one talon held at the ready. Nolan slowly drew the sword from the scabbard at his side, the curved blade glinting faintly from the dull glow of his yellow eyes.

The hoofsteps grew louder as the guards descended yet another stone staircase. If nothing else, at least I got some good exercise, Lightning Arc noted. Also, chest plates aren't made for storage. The book he had gotten from the stranger was digging into the dark gray fur over his chest. It didn't really hurt, but it was starting to get irritating.

At the bottom of the stairs, a pair of torches illuminated a large pair of oak doors. As Princess Celestia approached, Captain Stone ducked forward and pushed at the doors. With a heavy groan, they fell open, casting a rectangle of light into the dark chamber beyond. The light revealed pale green urns lined against the walls and a stone walkway stretching overhead into the shadows.

When Nolan saw the alicorn standing in the torchlight, he silently slipped over the side of the walkway, gliding into the darkness and landing lightly beside Bertha. He lightly reached out and tapped a claw on the navy-blue cloak she had wrapped around her frame.

At Nolan's touch, Bertha gave a nearly imperceptible nod. Had the Princess stepping through the doorway been a changeling, especially a particularly powerful one, Bertha would have sensed it. What she sensed instead was the unmistakable aura of the Solar Princess, an almost tangible warmth that seemed to flow from her marble coat. Nolan sheathed his sword.

“Princess, it is an honor,” Nolan spoke, stepping from the dark and into view. Bertha slid away, deeper into the shadows, and with a quick scuffle she was up onto the walkway. “I was beginning to wonder if you had received my letter.”

“Of course, Sir Nolan. The security of the Catacombs is of the utmost of my concern.” At the mention of his title, Nolan cringed.

“Everypony, spread out. These Catacombs are a big place, and we need them secure,” Captain Stone ordered, and the guards filed past him, the princess, and Nolan. Arc noted Nolan still looked a little flustered as the torches set into sconces along the stone brick walls were lit.

“Now, Sir Nolan, I understand that items have been going missing, and it seems someone has been searching the Catacombs,” Princess Celestia stepped into the center of the chamber, watching as her guards marched through the passages leading out, a few fluttering to the walkway and making their way through the door up there.

“Yes, your highness. We've found doors ajar, torches lit, and a few of the urns tampered with. One of the urns was even toppled over, but Vince found it in time to keep the contents from spilling,” Nolan reported, keeping his eyes humbly downcast.

“Have you been able to identify what could be doing it?” Stone asked, leaning slightly on his halberd's haft. Nolan shook his head.

“We haven't seen anything down here, but Bertha tells me it isn't the crown. She says if it were, she would sense it.” Nolan's tail curled, the end wrapping around one of his back paws as he spoke.

“I don't doubt she would, Sir Nolan.” Celestia turned her attention back to the pegasus standing nearly at attention by her side. “Captain Stone, you should join your men in the search. Be sure that nothing seems amiss, and then report back to me.”

“Yes, Princess.” Captain Stone slipped away, passing through one of the doorways. One of his subordinates, the tired mare from the surface, saluted as he entered the hallway beyond, falling into step behind him.

“What's bothering you, Sir Nolan?” Princess Celestia asked, stepping closer to the glowering griffon.

“I wish you wouldn't call me 'Sir,' your highness,” Nolan explained. “At least not when none of your soldiers are around.”

“If it bothers you, I understand, Nolan.” Princess Celestia brought her face almost level with his. “You are a knight, aren't you?”

“Yes, your majesty, but...” Nolan's voice trailed off. “I'm not a knight here.”

“You are a knight in the service of a princess, correct?” Celestia's voice was calm and reassuring as she reached a hoof to Nolan's shoulder.

“I'm not a knight of your kingdom, Princess. I haven't earned that honor,” Nolan's voice dripped with cheerlessness.

“What's past is past, Nolan...” Princess Celestia righted herself. “I know you aren't one to dwell on that, so what else is bothering you?”

“Your highness, I've had nightmares for the past weeks... they keep me from sleeping, and sometimes while I'm down here, it's almost like I can still hear them...”

“What do these nightmares tell you?” Celestia's normally calm face was furrowed with concern.

“It's a voice I don't recognize, raspy and deep. It tells me 'The king lives, long live the king.' It's like someone whispering a secret in my ear, but there's no one there,” Nolan stood erect, his shoulders square, his beak set. Only the slightest glimmer in his eyes denoted the fear he felt. “Bertha never senses anything, which... worries me.”

“Hmm,” Princess Celestia's concerned eyes deepened to hard edges at Nolan's words. “We need to go to the Tomb, now.”

Nolan's eyes went wide for only a moment before he set them back. He took a moment to compose himself. Even if he was being haunted, he had to stay level-headed. It wouldn't do to scare the others.

“Right this way, your highness,” Nolan growled, determined. He indicated one of the passageways leading deeper into the Catacombs with a claw. Princess Celestia nodded, and Nolan lead through the doorway.

As they left, neither noticed the clover green unicorn mare with a jagged silver mane perched on one of the banisters supporting the walkway. They didn't see the devious smile split her muzzle as Nolan shared his nightmare. With them headed for the Tomb, neither saw her slip calmly and gracefully down from the walkway and through one of the other passages.

Now, wasn't this the way Arc headed? She wondered to herself, slipping into an alcove as a pair of pegasus guards trotted past. Neither saw her, so she pressed on. I wonder how far he got into that book?

~ ~ ~

Lightning Arc passed through an arch and emerged onto an intricate stone walkway. It was supported by a series of pillars piercing up from the shadows below and into the ceiling. The darkness in the chamber told Arc that none of the other guards had been through already.

I could have sworn I saw something move in here, Arc mused, scanning over the side of the banister fruitlessly. All that met his eyes were shadows and the dull porcelain sheen of the urns below from the torchlight at his back. It feels like someone's watching me...

Arc's head shot up, and he glanced at the arching doorway. Nothing had moved in the light that he could see, but for just a second there had been a shadow. In the distance, he could still hear the other guards making their ways through the adjoining chambers, stairwells, hallways, and pits.

A wooden door squeaked on its hinges from somewhere, echoing for a moment through the Catacombs. For a moment, all of the guards stood stock still, listening to the sound before resuming their search. Arc turned his back to the light, continuing along the walkway. The door on the other end was probably unlocked, and through it he would probably find a staircase leading to the chamber below, where he could light the torches and dispel the gloomy air that seemed to loom over him.

There it is again. Arc bolted back through the archway, but there was nothing in the passageway. Something, probably a loose bit of cloth, is casting that shadow, he reasoned. There was no reason to be so anxious, not with two dozen more of Equestria's finest just a stone's throw away.

Wait, Arc couldn't hear them anymore. Nopony was moving, or searching, or opening and closing squeaky doors. It was like he was alone down there, but he could still feel someone watching him. Suddenly, he wasn't alone in the passageway. A shadowy form, immaterial, snaked its way along the floor, curling around his hooves before dragging itself away into the dark chamber. Arc shuddered; it felt like his legs were being frozen solid.

Had he been a year younger, just a year less experienced, he would have bolted right then and there, screaming, to find the princess. Instead, he fought the instincts demanding he flee, and steeled his nerves. Now there's definitely something in there, he thought darkly, tightening his front hooves' grip on the spear. Had he been a year older, just a year more experienced, he would have bolted right then and there, shouting, to find Captain Stone or the griffons. Instead, Arc swallowed the apple-sized lump in his throat and stepped back into the shadow.

~ ~ ~

The clover colored unicorn rounded a corner just in time to see Arc disappearing through an archway, vanishing into the shadows beyond. Oh, am I too late? She wondered to herself, letting a small frown slip. The thick wooden door to the dark chamber beyond slammed shut with a clamber, a heavy metal bolt clicking into place with finality. Damn, just by a minute.

Whoever she was dealing with was clever, the unicorn noted. Magically dampening the sounds in case anypony called for Arc from outside the chamber or he decided to call for help was an admittedly smart move. They had made just one fatal mistake; they hadn't counted on a unicorn of her caliber being close enough to respond. It was almost arrogant the way they had left just a strand, an echo, of energy in the passageway, almost inviting anypony strong enough to sense it to dispel their efforts.

They must not have figured the princess would come here herself, the unicorn mare reasoned, reaching for the strand with her own magic. If she could send a flare of energy through the echo, she could shatter the spell. Better yet, if she was quick enough she could even fry whoever was after Arc. She hadn't thought the caster had figured the princess would be there, or that anypony strong enough to sense the strand would be strong enough to survive the jolt back.

It took the unicorn completely by surprise, then, that the jolt she sent along the magical channel returned to her three-fold. She didn't even have time to react before it slammed into her horn like a speeding train, sending her careening back through the passageway. She only had time for one thought before darkness overcame her. Oops.

Chapter Three - Memories and Nightmares

The wooden gate was unlocked, just like always, and Arc pushed it open and stepped into the front lawn. The little path to the door was lined with lilies. Mom loves these flowers. Mom's neat little cottage had an elm out front, where Arc used to fly and climb around when he was young.

The sun was just starting to set, but the candle Mom kept in the front window was already lit. Through the open window, Arc could hear a pair of voices.

“I can't believe he just left us like that...” That was his mom, and she sounded hurt.

“He never really cared. All he wants is to waste his time running around all over the world,” That was Arc's father, snarling disgustedly. That's not right, Arc thought, confused.

Why is Dad here? A sudden thought dawned on Arc; Why am I here!? Wasn't I just... And just as quickly as the thought came to him, it faded. The door to Mom's cottage flew open, and Arc's dad stepped through. He glared down his nose at Arc through his spectacles, one eyebrow raised.

“What do you think you're doing here?” Dad's voice was harsh with derision. “Don't you have everywhere else to be?”

“It's not like that...” Arc pleaded, stunned at his father's disgust.

“No?” Mom asked, stepping around Dad's flared wings. “You left us here to die. You couldn't care less if we lived or not.”

“Mom... I...” Arc felt tears stinging the edges of his vision as it blurred. Smoke was pouring from inside, billowing through the doorway. Neither of his parents moved, their simmering glares deepening accusingly.

“You killed me, son.” Dad's voice was laden with contempt as he stepped back into the cottage, disappearing into the thick smoke.

“I wish you killed me,” Mom hissed, stepping down from the porch. “Who knows, if you keep ignoring me, maybe I'll die, too. Would you like that?”

“Don't you dare.” Arc stomped a hoof, standing back to his full height. His wings, which had pulled tight to his sides while he was berated, flared open. “You know it isn't like that.”

“You turned your back on me, ran away to play hero.” His mother's words spread a sour taste through Arc's mouth. “You will never be as good as your uncle. You're a coward.”

Mom's horn had the slightest gleam to it, just the faintest glimmer. A spell? What is she casting? The answer hit Arc in the face; a silver medal with a purple ribbon bisected by two stripes of white, thrown by his mother's magic. It was Uncle's medal, awarded for his sacrifice.

~ ~ ~

Princess Celestia stopped dead in her tracks, part way down a wide marble staircase. Nolan turned to her, one claw instinctively passing over his hilt. They were just outside the Tomb, the massive iron door ahead looming from across a wide, long walkway illuminated by a series of gemstones laid into the frame.

“Princess?” Nolan's eyes narrowed as he scanned the shadows. Nothing stood out to him.

“Nolan, stay here and protect the Tomb.” The princess' voice had an unmistakable edge to it. “No one is allowed past you. No one.”

“Yes, your highness,” Nolan answered, darting down the last of the steps and turning his back to the massive door. The princess was already gone when he squared his shoulders, his curved sword naked in his talons.

~ ~ ~

Vince sat bolt upright, emerald eyes wide. The blanket was wrapped around his hind legs, and he struggled for a moment to free himself. A lilting laugh stopped his struggle.

“What's so funny?” Vince asked, one eyebrow raised as he finally pulled his paws free from the wrapped covers. Edith was perched at the wooden table, beaming at him. The door was open, hanging loosely from one of its hinges.

“You, feather brain!” Edith giggled, little tears flecking the edges of her eyes.

“Hey, show some respect. I'm still your uncle.” Vince pushed himself out of the bed and moved to the little crate of supplies left open against the wall. One talon darted in and pulled free a piece of bread and a small slab of dried jerky.

“Barely. You're only a few years older than me, you know.” Edith dropped the jibe at Vince's sharp glance.

“When are we getting real food again, anyway?” Edith complained, idly brushing away the crumbs dotting the table in front of her. “We've had nothing but dry crap for weeks!”

“I told you, didn't I? We can't eat what can't get to us and stay here with us without going bad,” Vince mumbled less than coherently around a bite of bread. “That's what Nolan told me, and that's what I'm gonna tell you every time you ask.” He swallowed the huge bite before taking another from the dried meat, the ring through the top of his beak jangling for a second as his jaw worked.

“You missed the Princess,” Edith said offhandedly, chuckling as Vince stopped eating for a second, eyes gone wide. “Yeah, while you were sleeping a whole crew of soldiers and the Sun Princess went down into the Catacombs. They probably met up with Nolan and Bertha a few minutes ago.”

“Are you serious?” Vince dropped the bread and the jerky, hastily wiping his talons on his chest as he stood. Edith nodded, her eyes glinting with satisfaction at his flustered expression. “Why didn't you wake me up!?”

“I would have had an easier time eating the whole desert than getting you up, lazy bones!” Edith exclaimed, watching Vince dig around through the haversack he kept by his cot.

He pulled out and tossed aside a storybook he sometimes read, an old silver goblet he had intended on getting rid of, a tattered old cloak which he tossed over the cot, a broken pair of quills, an empty ink pot, a few pieces of parchment, and some gold pieces. Finally, Vince pushed the haversack under the cot with a scowl. He pulled the tattered gray cloak over his black feathered head before spinning back to face Edith.

“Where's the letter?” Vince growled, scanning the room. Edith almost couldn't help but laugh again when she saw the rolled up scroll her uncle was searching for peaking out from his cloak's breast pocket.

“Where it always is. Remember, 'I'll keep this close to my heart?'” Edith reminded, letting her voice drop into an impression of her uncle's normally light tone. He wasn't usually so grumpy. Must be the Princess' visit has him all flustered.

Vince passed a talon over the cloak's pocket, patting the letter to be sure it was there before slapping his iron helmet on over his head. He pounced over to the door hanging loosely from the bottom hinge, the top snapped off. Normally, he would have asked what had happened to it, but now he was in a hurry. He snatched his lance from where it leaned next to the doorway and darted into the gate room.

From Vince's perspective, it took painful ages to get the intricate stone door unlocked, and even longer for it to slide into its recessed alcove in the wall. It had barely left enough room for him to pass when he sprang through, foregoing the stairs in favor of flying down above the staircase. Finally, he landed with a loud thump on the landing and threw open the oak doors.

The chamber beyond was dark and silent. It was like no one had been through in years. This isn't right... what's going on here? Vince couldn't hear anything moving in the Catacombs, not a guard nor a griffon stirred. A rope dangled down from over the side of the walkway above, moving slightly in a stray breeze that shouldn't have been there. The air had a chill to it, a gust from one of the side passageways carrying with it a smell like mildew mixed with rust.

“Nolan?” Vince's voice echoed through the twisting passages, finding its way back around to him without an answer. Suddenly, the wooden doors slammed shut, followed by the loud clank of a bolt and lock being set. “Hey!”

Vince tugged at the door. He had no intention of returning to the guard room upstairs, but he didn't want his only exit sealed. It refused to move even slightly, and it only made a dull thud when he slammed his shoulder against it.

The breeze built into a wind, blowing away the stench and chilling him through his tattered cloak. It carried with it a new scent; the smell of pine forests and smoky fires. The wind howled through the low archways and halls, and on it came another sound; the sound of chanting. Snow flurried about the chamber, the rope lashing about amid the white scurrying over the smooth stone floor and up the walls.

The walkway above was a long wooden bough, a branch hanging low over the platform in the blowing storm. The shadows folded into dark figures along the edge, chanting, their brightly painted red beaks the only parts revealed from beneath their thick lavender colored robes. Their deep voices called out over the wind in some ancient dialect. Beyond, barely visible through the thick falling snow's near white-out, the mountains loomed, the distant lights of some sprawling village flickering through the shivering branches of scattered pine trees.

The rope was tied into a noose at its end, and a crate underneath it served as a stand for a prisoner. The prisoner's yellow eyes flashed dangerously as Vince took a step toward him. No, I can't be here. This can't be happening, wasn't I... and just as quickly as the baffled thoughts entered Vince's head, they faded again.

“You are charged with treasonous acts against the new High King. How do you plead?” The hangman shouted over the storm, stretching a talon up to still the lashing rope.

“I know no crime, but I did stand with my High King,” the prisoner hissed, his voice thick with contempt and disgust. “You traitors are the real criminals.”

“Do you have any final words?” Vince asked, the hangman moving to pull away the prisoner's hood, drawing the noose lower.

“You betrayed me and left me to die,” Nolan's gray feathers bristled as the hood was pulled away, and Vince's heart stopped.

“But, I came back for you...” Vince's jaw fell open as his eyes widened.

“You didn't want to. Let's be honest, you'd prefer if I had died there,” Nolan's voice took on an accusatory edge, his eyes narrowing to slits. “With me gone, you could just drink and sleep and hide yourself away. You really had to force yourself to care, didn't you? With me dead, you'd be free.”

“I did! I care! I came back for you!” Vince howled over the wind as it grew steadily harsher into a cacophony. The hangman pulled the noose around Nolan's throat and drew it tight.

“Then why am I here?” Nolan hissed coldly. The hangman kicked the crate out from under Nolan's paws, and he fell for a second before the rope snapped taut.

“No!!” Vince cried, but his paws refused to move, his talons refused to reach. It was like the blowing snow had frozen him still. His howling voice didn't carry over the storm.

Vince screamed and screamed, and his voice went hoarse and his throat was struck with the piercing cold. It ached, and bled, and he fought and pushed and tore at his immobility. He was ages ago, standing there on the snowy hill under the dead tree, atop the stone platform, the chanters carrying on their dirge of the dishonored as the next in the line of prisoners stepped forward, the hangman loosing Nolan and dropping him unceremoniously in a heap.

~ ~ ~

Princess Celestia stepped through an archway and into an open chamber. The high vaulted ceiling was supported by a series of pillars. She was certain she had seen a troop of guards moving down this chamber, but there was no sign of them, and the torches along the walls were cold and dark. Her horn cast a warm light over the long room as it curved ever so slightly until the other end was out of sight.

This familiar presence... there's only one way to be sure, she decided silently, continuing along the echoing chamber, her hoofsteps reverberating along the high ceiling. The Princess steeled herself. As she moved, her brow knitted into a scowl.

There was a break in the ceiling, and through it spilled the pale moonlight from the dark sky above. That's nonsense, but don't just assume... A sob caught Celestia's attention. Curled behind one of the pillars, almost hidden in the shadow cast from the spilling beam, was a small, frail looking blue mare. Her wings were clapped tight against her sides, and her face was so downcast her horn practically touched the debris strewn floor.

“Why do they ignore us? Are we not a princess?” The soft, pained voice cut at Princess Celestia's memories, but she put it aside.

“No, you aren't,” Celestia said evenly, leveling her horn on the cowering form.

“Sister?” Princess Luna pulled her tear-streaked face up from her forelegs, where she had been weeping.

“No.” Princess Celestia had to keep calm. She couldn't let her memories overcome her, and she couldn't let her emotions flare up. Luna's young, pained face sent a twinge through Celestia's heart, but she stilled it and pushed it away, concentrating energy into her horn. Focus, concentrate, don't let it get to you, she affirmed in her mind. Already she could feel the cool night air, the soft breeze wafting over the balcony's edge, carrying the floral scent from the gardens below... no, stop. It's fake, concentrate on here and now.

“Why do they hate me? Why do you hate me?” Luna hissed, more tears rolling over her cheeks as her shoulders shook. Celestia couldn't allow herself to go to her sister. She couldn't console her. Instead, she focused the energy to the point of her horn... and fired.

The bolt of intense white energy struck Luna full in the chest, lifting her from her cower and throwing her down the chamber. The break in the ceiling closed, the light gone with the memories and the breeze. Luna was back upon her hooves, eyes solid red orbs within her skull, her lips curled back in a snarl.

“How?” That wasn't Luna's voice, and the cracks spreading along the facade revealed nothing but darkness beneath. A crack split over the false Luna's horn, and energy spilled from it in a swirl. As the broken edges of the disguise split and fell away, they flared and vanished as sparks.

“You aren't the first of your kind I've encountered. You should have chosen your memory more carefully; you only revealed your presence with your disguise,” Celestia kept her voice even, but inside she was filled with grim satisfaction as she loomed over the breaking Luna form. Already she was preparing another spell, this time determined to evaporate her target.

“You misjudge our abilities, horse.” The strange harsh voice spat the last word like it was disgusting to allow it to cross its lips.

“Oh?” Celestia had the spell ready, and she had no doubt that the beast wounded before her would not survive the next burst, but she wanted to hear what it had to say.

“They'll be dead before you can even blink,” It gloated conspiratorially, its red eyes glinting in the shadow. The second shot tore through it, blowing the shattered disguise to pieces and scattering it as magical sparks. The beast curled around the shot, managing to evade Celestia's intense magical blast.

The beast was a form of liquid shadow, red eyes glaring down at Celestia from the sockets in its glinting silver skull. A heavy leaden cackle bubbled up from deep in its form, and it swept from the room in a blast, slamming the doors shut and sealing them as it disappeared into the dark rooms beyond.

Chapter Four - The Stranger and The Sky

The clover-colored unicorn lay sprawled on the cold stone floor. Her pink eyes were constricted to pinpricks, staring intensely into the shadows, unseeing. The smooth surface of her horn was charred black, all the way to the base. The chilled air was full of the acrid smell of her burnt mane and coat.

Had she been somepony else, looking down at her carcass, she would have planted a hoof into her face in embarrassment. Underestimating your opponent was one of the first mistakes she had been trained to avoid, and rushing a spell and missing important details in the magical fields was another.

An odd light fell upon her body, not illuminating the hall but setting her prone form alight with a wan glow. For a moment, it was as if she was there and somewhere else at the same time. The small flecks of blood that had dripped from her mouth and onto the floor could be seen through her, as if she were fading out. With a flash, she vanished entirely, the distinct whine of a high level spell wearing off cutting the unnatural silence.

All was still for a moment. The dampening charms on the doors at either end didn't allow any sound to travel in or out, and the extinguished torches set into the walls didn't allow the shadows to shift or move. The only sound was a low, almost imperceptible hiss, like air from a tire.

Suddenly, the hiss rose into a crackle, the hall illuminated by an intense white flash. When the light and the sound died away again, the clover-colored unicorn shook her head and sighed. Damn, that was dumb of me...

The unicorn reached out and felt the magical fields again, this time taking care to feel out any manifestations before launching a spell. She noted the dampening charms, the seals on the door, the trap layered just beneath them. Whoever had cast them was clever, they had looped the trap's energy around and under the seals. If you were in a hurry, you would mistake the trap for part of the seal and get yourself killed.

It took a good five minutes, but the unicorn finally peeled away the trap and its fail safes, the redundant lesser seals, and could finally turn her attention to the greater seal. There was no need for stealth with this spell, it seemed. The magical energy was so intense the sealing charm practically shone like the sun where it had been cast to her magically tuned senses. With a spell this strong, I guess there's no need to weave it carefully.

The greater seal itself was almost too easy to remove. With all the lesser seals and the carefully woven trap over it, the greater seal was a fairly simple affair. A spell of motionlessness and a spell of solidity, cast together and bound as a seal on the door's smooth wooden surface. A simple charge to agitate the energy, and then a high level dispel shattered the seal with a little burst of magic.

The unicorn mare slid against the wall, sweat running down her brow. Her horn ached from all that exertion. Maybe next time I'll actually get in, she noted with a bitter little grin. The door was ready to open, as easy as pulling on the handle, but whatever was on the other side was a threat, and one she wouldn't be able to deal with. Not in this state, and not in time.

The whine rose again, only audible to the magically attuned unicorn. If someone else had been there, they wouldn't have heard a thing, save the soft gasp that escaped the mare. Time's up already? I thought I had another minute... With a flash, she disappeared again.

It only took a moment for her to reappear this time. The unicorn took a moment to compose herself, preparing a rudimentary bolt spell. Whatever was on the other side was not friendly, considering it had already killed her. With a steadying breath to still the faintest of flutters in her heart, she reached a hoof out to the handle and gave it a pull.

Thud. The door moved slightly in its frame, but refused to open.

Blood heated the mare's cheeks as she let the bolt spell dissipate from her horn. She took a moment to be thankful no one could see her, and then put her attention toward manipulating the tumblers inside the lock with telekinesis. One by one, they popped into place, and finally the lock released with a click.

The mare sighed and shook her head. That was dumb. She focused her attention back on the bolt attack, wrapping the patterns of energy for it around and weaving the spell itself inside her horn. Finally, she carefully pulled it open, peeking around the wooden door. For a moment all she could see was inky blackness beyond.

Through that absolute darkness was a light, intense and crimson. It curved to a sharp point like a huge thorn. It exuded an intense magical field, which wrapped itself around the room, as if the entire room were under some spell. In the ruby light, the mare could just make out somepony between her and the thorn, who she took to be Arc. He was swaying slightly from side to side and staring directly away from her.

At the sight of the glowing crimson thorn, the unicorn's eyes went wide. She stifled a gasp and pushed herself against the door jamb, trying to make her presence unnoticeable. The room of shadows, the swaying pony in the light's thrall, and now the horn. He's not supposed to be here yet, she thought furiously, This isn't what the book said would happen!

Despite the impossibly long moments that passed with the unicorn mare's heart pounding against her sternum in what could only be an attempt at escape, her presence went unnoticed. The thorn-like light maintained its position over Arc, and Arc continued to sway slightly, no doubt the victim of whatever spell was cast over the room.

Finally, the mare worked up the nerve to press into the thick web of shadow. As she passed through it, she felt the familiar tingle of an area spell, and the room changed around her. She was in the country side, probably in central Equestria judging by the oak trees all around and the mountains in the distance. There was a neat little cottage with an elm in the front yard, surrounded by a low white fence with a gravel path leading to the door. Seated on that path, just as far as he had been in the Catacombs, was Arc.

Another, older, unicorn mare was looming over him, her face a scowl. Her dull blue coat and lavender mane clashed with the glowing red horn curving out of her forehead. A sickly green aura spilled from the horn, coalescing around Arc's eyes.

The clover-colored mare fired the bolt spell, and the magical projectile struck dead-center into the horn's base. The older mare vanished in a burst of smoke, and the illusion melted away into the shadows. Arc slumped over, all the energy gone from him.

“Gahh! How dare you!?” A deep rumbling voice oozed from the swirling shadows around the mare as she stepped protectively over Arc. The curved horn shone even brighter now, illuminating the stone walkway the pair were upon, and it was joined by two glinting sickly green eyes. The mare began focusing more energy into her horn, prepared for the swirling shadows to collapse upon her, horn leading.

“Do you even know who I am?” The shadows demanded, the horned face pausing over the end of the walkway. The mare could feel more magical energy being siphoned into the horn from the darkness around her.

“You should be dead.” The unicorn mare's answer elicited a rumbling chuckle from the darkness. “Your subjects rose up and killed you.”

“They did little more than inconvenience me. In due time, I'll return to reclaim my home,” The shadows growled, an even greater wash of energy flowing into the horn. “All I need is a new body.” At this, the glinting green eyes glanced at Arc's prone form.

The unicorn mare stomped a hoof, leveling her horn as the shadows darted forward. They crossed horns, the intense energies crackling around their heads as they clashed. Already it was a losing battle for the mare. This dark presence was strong, looming over her and pressing down, intent on crushing her. Already the unicorn mare's knees were beginning to buckle. Suddenly, her legs were no longer beneath her, and she slipped. In that instant before she was dashed apart, she launched her spell.

The bolt blasted through the shadows' right eye, detonating in a shower of green energy. The dark form leaped back, howling in pain and rage, and fired off its own spell. The energy it had siphoned from the darkness shot into the floor beneath the mare, and from it spilled a series of wickedly sharp stalactites made up of dark crystal. The mare dove to the side as the crystals speared the air where she had been. That was close-, her thankfulness was cut short by Arc's screaming. Dammit!

The shadows crashed into her before her hooves could touch back down from her dodge, and the unicorn mare was hurled across the room. She hit the wall with a loud crack before tumbling into the shadows below. The dark form let out another rumbling chuckle as it loomed over Arc. Arc's prone form writhed amongst the crystals, his mind awash with pain. The shadows collapsed over him in a cascade, forcing him back out of consciousness.

Something shifted in the shadow below, a brief scuffle like a pair of wings aiding a jump, and then a form wrapped in a long blue cloak appeared from over the side. A pair of intense violet eyes glared out from beneath the hood, a white curving beak and a single talon the only parts exposed.

“Ignis,” a soft voice called from beneath the navy-blue hood, and the talon burst into flame. “Strike.”

At the griffon's voice, the fire shot forth in a massive column, consuming the shadows as they whirled and shuddered about. The deep rumbling voice howled in pain, the remaining eye squeezed shut. It was as if the shadows themselves were catching fire, and the whole room was lit up by the madly tumbling form as it desperately beat itself against the walls, trying to put itself out.

“Damn you!! This isn't over!” The form promised before it smashed against the opposite door, tearing the door off of its hinges as the smoldering darkness fled deeper into the Catacombs.

Without pause, the griffon lass leveled her talon at the mass of crystals that held Arc, piercing his sides.

“Vitreous,” Bertha murmured, “Disperse.” At her words, the crystals shattered and fell apart, sinking back into the stone of the walkway.

Bertha's attack had lit the torches of the chamber, and in the flickering torchlight she examined Arc's wounds. She was no healer, but she quietly did what she could to ease the pain, claws glowing dimly. The crystals had crushed his chest plate before deflecting into his sides, shredding the points where his wings met his torso and tearing the straps that had held his pack. The wings hung limp and motionless as the rest of his body gave brief shudders and jerks at Bertha's efforts, and she tossed the pack aside to get her talons closer to his wounds.

Mercifully, Arc slid into unconsciousness as Bertha worked over him. With a groan, he fell into a dark, dreamless sleep. Only one thing pervaded his thoughts before even these melted away; the book, digging hard into his sternum beneath the bent and crushed metal of the armor.

~ ~ ~

The crystal blue skies over the sweltering cream-colored desert were filled with the thrum of propellers buffeting the air as three airships slid purposefully over the dunes. Aboard these ships were a motley of creatures with varying degrees of sapience, armed with curving blades and heavy crossbows. Perched atop one of the ship's red balloons, leaning over the metal railing of his crow's nest, a pony in a worn old uniform peered through a long telescope.

Dutifully, he scanned through the sea of sand sprawling outward below. At last, his emerald eyes lighted on the ships' destination. With a nod of certainty, the pony dropped the telescope to the metal platform beneath him and scampered over the side, scaling down the net of ropes coiling over the balloon's smooth surface. He landed on the wooden deck below with a clunk.

The Earth pony darted around the other crew members and up the staircase to the head of the ship, where a grizzled old fox was reclining on a pillow, wrapped in a lavender shawl and reading a book through a pair of thick spectacles. His amber coat had been turned almost entirely silver by the years. Absentmindedly, the old fox ran a paw over his long white beard.

“Sir, I've spotted Fillydelphia.” The pony bowed his head respectfully as he approached. “It's straight ahead.”

“Hmm? Oh, good, good,” The fox flipped shut the book and removed his glasses, sliding them under his shawl. “You, pilot, take us lower. We'll be landing soon enough.” The fox grabbed the oak walking stick sitting next to him and pushed himself up, leaning heavily on the railing behind him. The mare at the wheel nodded before pressing a pedal with one of her rear hooves, bringing the ship into a slow, gentle decline.

“Suppose we should tell the captain, eh?” The old fox asked rhetorically, clapping the Earth pony on the back as he passed with his free front paw. “You can take a break, you've done well.”

The fox descended the staircase, walking stick leading with his three free paws following. The crew members milling about the main deck parted for him as he crossed to the cabin at the other end of the ship. Reaching the door, he grabbed the iron knocker and wrapped it on the door three times.

“Come in,” A smooth, calm voice inside answered, and the fox pushed through and let the door fall shut. The crew members quickly returned to their duties, the lookout clambering back up the netting. Arvelo the Clever might grant him a break, but the captain certainly wouldn't allow it. It's just better to look busy when the captain comes on deck, even if my job is done.

Chapter Five - The King and The Crown

The shadows curled and bubbled up to the ceiling as they fled. The glowing crimson horn dulled its light to a faint glimmer, and the piercing emerald eyes slid shut. The Nightmare found it impossible to keep its mind from the stinging burns all along its dark form.

How did I let a filthy griffon take me by surprise? The Nightmare brooded, flowing around a low archway before pooling back to the ceiling. And from the shadows no less... I am the shadows! It paused for a moment, picked out a particularly nasty fate, and then promised itself the next griffon to challenge it would be dealt a terrible death.

These damned chambers all look the same! How am I supposed to find- The Nightmare's silent rant was cut short by another presence in its mind, something pulling at its train of thought. The Crown Chamber has been opened... It's mine!

Those intense green eyes sprang back open, glaring through the dark as the horn flared back to life. It darted down from the ceiling, throwing open the doors before it and pouring through in a cascade. It was getting close to the Crown, it could sense it!

Finally, it closed around one final, immaculate stone door. Beyond, the Crown's presence was so intense, it was like a shot of energy straight to the Nightmare's brain. It shuddered and danced about in anticipation. At last, I can rule again! Chroma, my dear, your king is coming home! A set of intense white fangs split open, and a tongue licked the lips around it before the shadows flung open the final door.

The Nightmare took in the scene. A long marble walkway, lined with pillars supporting both it and the vaulted ceiling far above. Gems of a uniform cut, color, and clearness set into the pillars providing a steady white light. A griffon glaring out from the tall open doorway at the other end of the room. A cutlass glinted in the white light from the gems. Too easy.

There was a flash of crimson light from the darkness, and Nolan tightened his stance. Well, they found us, he noted grimly. His talons gripped the sword fiercely as his paws pressed hard on the marble floor. He was ready to pounce on the first beast to present itself.

There was the sound of stone shattering. Something moved in Nolan's periphery. Too fast, impossibly fast, for him to dodge. Lances of the glowing crystals shot at him, piercing his legs at the calf and his arms at the shoulder, pinning him to the floor. The cutlass escaped his grip, clattering over the edge. The deep, dark red of griffon blood spattered the clean white walkway.

The shadows were upon him, pressing down, crushing him to the marble. Nolan held his beak shut. He would not give it the pleasure of eliciting a scream. His ribs cracked and broke, and his spine strained under the impossible weight of the shadows pressing in around him. Nolan tasted a thick, warm coppery taste filling his mouth, and then everything went black.

The Nightmare lurched downward one final time for good measure, savoring the wet snap as the griffon went limp beneath it. One more piece of half-breed trash gone from this world, it celebrated, sweeping the body over the side of the walkway. It took a few moments before the limp form impacted on the stone floor far below, shattering an urn full of sand. Now, the Crown...

A sapphire glow, painfully bright, filled the chamber. The shadows thrashed and boiled on the floor. What's holding me!? It hurt like a sun going supernova just behind the Nightmare's eyes. It pulled them shut, shrouded them in the darkest part of its incorporeal form, and the light still burned them, still pierced through it.

“What's happening!?” The Nightmare howled. To its shock and chagrin, a matronly voice answered it as a stark white frame came into view through the beaming blue haze.

“I'm sending the Crown somewhere safe. Somewhere the likes of you will never reach it.” Celestia's voice had just a tint of pride to it. Damn her, did she really have to gloat?

“Burn in Tartarus, you sick celestial bi-” The Nightmare's tirade was cut short by a renewed torrent of pain. “Gahh!”

The light grew ever more intense, until from an intense blue it grew to a pure white. The whole of the Catacombs was lit with this impossible light for only moment before it went out. All was still and silent as the Nightmare felt the Crown's presence slipping further and further from its grasp.

~ ~ ~

The low hanging blankets on the line fluttered as the little cream-colored filly dashed through them. She stifled a laugh as she slid behind a pair of crates set against the cool stone wall. The intense desert sun glared down fiercely, and she shifted to be in the shade of the stone shop. Her curly brown mane bobbed as she peeked out from her wooden hiding place. She clapped a hoof over her mouth to keep from giggling aloud at the sight of her friend searching.

“Where are you, Maple?” The green older filly called, sing-song. She pulled aside the blankets and stuck out her tongue in concentration, peering around the little walled off yard. “You can't get out that way! There's not another door this way!”

The older filly's blonde tail swished as she exaggeratedly staggered into the courtyard, stirring up little clouds of dust on the tiles. Her clear eyes scanned the far wall as she stumbled toward the crates. A devious grin spread over her face as she heard Maple snickering.

“Got you!” The green filly shouted, vaulting over the crates and landing on Maple in a pile. They tumbled a bit before the older filly finally pinned Maple underneath her.

“No fair, Sevens! Your cutie mark makes you stronger!” Maple whined, squirming. Her golden eyes went wide as Sevens started to tickle her sides. “No! St- stop it!” She managed to get out between peals of laughter.

“My cutie mark is just my name, it doesn't do anything!” Sevens smiled before letting Maple squirm out of her grasp. Her flank had a pair of silver sevens on either side of a larger, golden one.

Sevens rolled over onto her back next to Maple. They laid there for a bit, looking up at the thin, small clouds lazily drifting through the deep blue sky. After they had caught their breaths, Maple launched into another lengthy explanation of why it was no fair that Sevens had always had her cutie mark.

“Well, think of it this way,” Sevens answered evenly, “You get to find out your special talent. I don't even know what my cutie mark means.” Maple stammered for a second, unable to come up with an eloquent response.

“Well... it still makes you too strong!” She decided triumphantly, crossing her front legs over her chest and pouting.

“I'm sure when you get your cutie mark, you'll be even stronger than me. Who knows, you might just need to start taking care of me instead!” Sevens beamed at Maple as the younger filly pondered the thought for a moment before grinning.

“Yeah, I forgot! You're getting too old! I'll have to take care of you!” Maple smiled from ear to ear, her eyes squeezed shut. Content, the duo looked back up at the scarce clouds. There are never enough clouds, Sevens thought to herself, It's too hot for them. I remember there being more... Maple almost nodded off to sleep before an older voice called from inside.

“Maple, Sevens, please come in here!” The voice was insistent and firm.

“Coming, Mommy!” Maples called, springing to her hooves and trotting through the back door beyond the drying blankets.

“Yes, Auntie!” Sevens chimed in, not far behind her.

Inside the dimly lit store, Maples' mother leaned on her front hooves against the counter. The tables lining the small storefront were cluttered with sweets and baked goods of various descriptions. The air was thick with the scent of the various wares; sweet, minty, sour, spicy, savory, all blending together in a homely smell that set the mind at ease.

“What is it, Auntie Bon Bon?” Sevens asked, a quick glance around the room not presenting any mischief the fillies may have caused.

“I'm going down to the docks. The supply caravan is due to arrive soon,” As she talked, Bon Bon stepped out from behind the counter. Her creamy coat nearly matched Maples, and her blue and pink mane was curled just like her daughter's. “I need you two to watch the shop.”

“Yes, Mommy!” Maple chirped, clambering over the counter and taking a spot behind the register.

“Good girl, Maple.” Bon Bon ruffled Maple's mane playfully before turning to Sevens. “Please take good care of things, alright Sevens?”

“Of course, Auntie Bon Bon.” Sevens crossed to a seat beside the counter and sat herself down in it. “You can count on us!”

“Thank you. I'll be back in an hour. Just make sure that anypony who takes something pays for it, alright?” Bon Bon was at the door, but she still hesitated to leave.

“Yeah, we'll make them pay!” Maple growled, reaching up to smack a hoof on the counter. Her mother chuckled at her efforts to be menacing.

“Alright, just don't be too tough on them. Love you two, I'll be back soon.” With that, Bon Bon pushed open the wooden door. The fillies watched as she passed by the big window in the storefront, headed down the dusty cobbled road.

“I'm bored,” Maple announced, hopping down from her spot at the counter. “Can I go upstairs and play with my toys?”

“Sure. Just take care of any mess you make.” Sevens let the younger filly pass before taking her spot at the register. Maple didn't ask twice, instead darting up the old wooden stairs behind them and into their living room.

“Sevens!” Maple called down. The older filly pushed herself down from the counter. “Come look!”

“What is it?” Sevens asked as she stepped off the staircase. The living room was already cluttered with building blocks, Maples' favorites. “You already made a mess.”

“Not that!” Maple was perched in the window-sill, the decorated curtain pulled aside. She thrust a hoof out, gesturing to the horizon. “That!”

Sevens looked out over the rooftops of the houses and shops of their neighborhood, until finally she saw what the younger filly meant over the dunes in the distance. A toiling, thrashing mass of energy shimmered and danced from somewhere deep in the desert, an intense blue mass.

“What is that?” Sevens asked, mouth agape.

“Pretty!” Maple chirped. Suddenly, the energy flared dramatically, and a small point of intense light shot out, leaving a trail of sparks in its wake as it arced over the sky. It darted away like a shooting star, vanishing over the horizon almost as soon as it had appeared.

“What was that?” Sevens shook her head, scanning the horizon for any more disturbances.

“Very pretty!” Maple repeated, pushing herself down from the sill. She gathered up a decent pile of blocks. “I'm gonna build it!”

“I think we should get your mommy,” Sevens decided, pulling Maple toward the stairs. Maple pulled against her, straining to reach her little pile of blocks. “She'll want to know about how pretty that was, too, don't you think?” Maple stopped struggling, instead hopping down the stairs and taking the lead with a big grin.

“Yeah! Maybe Mommy saw it, too!” The two fillies cantered out through the door, and Sevens quickly turned to switch the “Open” sign to “Closed.”

The duo darted across the street and through an alleyway between the storefronts opposite theirs before slipping past the post office and down a flight of stone steps. Finally, they crawled under a thick wooden fence and found themselves at the docks.

Sure enough, three tired-looking airships dominated the docks as workers and deckhands scrabbled about, checking the mooring ropes, refilling the ships' energy tanks, checking the balloons, testing the rotors, performing any number of menial tasks. Maple yawned. It was tiring just to watch them work.

“There!” Sevens pointed a hoof to the deck offices. Through a window, she could see her Aunt Bon Bon conversing with the port master.

The port master was a large middle-aged stallion with a badly thinning mane and a drooping stomach. He didn't like children very much, and had a habit of chasing Maple and Sevens away from the port at least once a week. Once, he had been so cross at their snooping he hadn't stopped chasing them at the gates, instead hounding them through the streets. They had gotten away, but when Bon Bon found out, the pair were grounded for a week.

Careful not to raise any suspicion, the fillies made their way to the offices door, creeping under the window-sill to avoid detection. They could faintly hear Bon Bon explaining for what sounded to be the hundredth time that the airship caravan had supplies that she was looking to purchase, and that she had the money with her in her saddlebags. The port master contemplated this for a moment before rebutting that it was strange that Bon Bon should know so much about the caravan without even talking to any of its members. Bon Bon planted a hoof into her forehead.

“I was asking you if it would be alright if I go in and speak with them?” Bon Bon prodded gingerly, trying to jog the old stallion's memory.

“If you haven't spoken with them, how do you know they'd be willing to trade?” The port master pondered this for a moment. Poor young lady must be confused.

“Because they're a trade caravan, and one that I've done business with in the past,” Bon Bon explained carefully. The port master bit his lip and furrowed his brow as he considered this. Maple giggled as Sevens copied the goofy expression, adding crossing her eyes for comedic effect. Bon Bon's ear twitched.

“How have you done business with them before?” The port master dug around one of the piles of papers on his desk, as if looking for the answer.

“We've met here at the dock before.” Bon Bon could feel the long conversation painfully drawing to a close.

“I've let you in?” The stallion seemed surprised.

“Yes, you've let me in.” Bon Bon nodded, carefully keeping her tone from assuming that of when she had to explain something to Maple.

“Ah, alright. Why didn't you just say so?” The port master crossed to the door and popped it open. Maple and Sevens pulled back as the old stallion waved a hoof through the door. “Go right ahead, miss.”

“Thank you, sir.” Bon Bon stepped carefully down from the port offices' doorway. She waited for the door to close before turning to face the two young fillies. “Why are you here?”

“Mommy, we saw magic glowing in the desert, and a lot of it! Then, a star shot out of the magic and flew away!” Maple explained breathlessly, nodding vigorously the whole time.

“Some sort of energy out in the desert. Something magical got launched, but I'm not sure where it went,” Sevens elaborated, nodding a bit less enthusiastically.

“Alright. Since you're here, would you like to help me?” Bon Bon sighed. The shop wasn't in any danger, but it still bothered her to leave it empty. Maple nodded even more vigorously, and Sevens smiled. Suddenly, a sound like a thunderclap rattled their bones.

The ground shook, and Bon Bon pushed the fillies to the ground before standing over them. It was like the desert had just for a moment turned to an ocean full of waves. The airships shuddered and shook in their moors. One slipped, and its hull scraped along the dock. The port offices' window rattled in its frame. The deckhands and shipmates gripped the ships and the mooring ropes tightly, both for their own protection and to keep the ships from jostling any more.

Beyond the desert stretching away from the docks, a pillar of absolute darkness climbed into the sky. It was darker than the pitch-black of a moonless midnight, and it toiled and writhed like something alive. Clouds of sand burst from its base, like it was escaping from below the dunes. A horrible, blood-curdling howl rent the air, carrying over the shimmering heat of the desert to chill the crowd to the bone.

Finally, it all stopped. The pillar vanished, and the howl petered away in the faint wind. Bon Bon looked down at the two fillies, eyes wide and face pale.

“Girls. Go home.” It wasn't a request; it was a demand, and the fillies hastily did as they were told.