After Alagaësia

Chapters

prologue
Chapter 1: A Party Postponed
chapter 2: Wanderlust
chapter 3: The Hall of Statues
Chapter 5

prologue

Author's Note

not sure that sonic has finished editing what he wanted but i do not know when i will be able to get online again. so read if you want but keep in mind that there is a little more to go and we need to finish editing it.

prologue

Prologue....

After Alagaesia.

A brisk wind blew across the swiftly darkening landscape, the sun offering little warmth as it hung low over the horizon. Eragon sighed longingly. That same sun hung over the distant land of Alagaësia he and Saphira had left, ten years ago. With Alagaësia, both had left behind a piece of themselves, pieces that they may never see again. Eragon and Saphira sat together, thinking of the loved ones that lay in years past and unknown miles away.

Saphira closed her pristine blue eyes as she remembered the two male dragons she had left behind. Thorn, the spirited red drake she had fought and later forgiven. Fírnen, the powerful green drake with which she had shared an intimate experience. A shiver of pleasure trickled down her spine as she remembered the vigor and excitement, the ferocity and passion that had been shared on that day as fiery senses she had never known before were awakened.

Her sensuous thoughts interrupted Eragon’s reverie, causing his cheeks to flush slightly. Though he welcomed the warm thoughts of Saphira, they did not fill the gap left in his life. He heaved a great sigh of longing as his thoughts drifted in a sea of memories, wonderful memories of people whom he may never see again. His cousin, Roran, and all the years they had spent growing up together. They had caused Roran’s father so much mischief. Garrow had always been a good sport about it, but knew when to limit them with a stern hand, typically when games crossed into work. Garrow had been stern, but always loving, always welcoming, and always ready with a good tale to tell. Eragon could never get enough of Garrow’s grand, fantastic tales of daring knights, powerful mages, and dragon riders of old. Those fond memories grew harder to let go of as he traveled further and further away from what had once been his only home.

Eragon wistfully gazed over the setting sun, letting his anguish sink with it below the horizon. Saphira nudged him gently with her muzzle, knowing full well the pain he was feeling. All those they had left behind they loved, almost as much as they loved each other. They let their sorrows flow into one another, hoping to ease the pain of loss. Their feelings met, doubling their grief briefly, until they found each other in the miasma of emotion. Feeling each others presence brought them into a peaceful equilibrium.

Eragon thanked Saphira for her comfort with a weak smile. Saphira responded with her own version of a smile. Both felt their warm feelings enveloping each other. It was a much needed respite from internal turmoil they had both been feeling. So far away from Alagaësia, so far away from the ones they loved, they could not feel at home. Their restless spirits sought comfort where little existed beyond what they gave each other. They had been seeking so long for that peace which a home could provide. When they found a home, perhaps then, they thought, their grief would alleviate and they could concern themselves with raising the next generation of dragons.

Eragon and Saphira had found hundreds of dragon eggs and Eldunari during his last few months in Alagaësia. The decision to leave was heartbreaking, but necessary. They needed to find a new home to train the new line of dragon riders, a place secluded from disapproving eyes and prying magicians. Their days consisted mostly of traveling, some flying and some walking, supplemented with lessons from the dragon Eldunari. Each day they learned more about the world they lived in from the ancient dragons. It was a marvelous thing, the vast storehouse of ancient wisdom they carried with them in the souls of the dragons. They learned much about the world that Oromis had never taught them.

Days blurred together as they continued their travels. Their traveling hymn of fly, walk, hunt, and learn became perfectly routine, broken only by the moments Eragon and Saphira would spend together, pouring their emotions into each other.

Days came and went.

Wings beat up and down.

They traveled, they slept.

Hope lay in a vague cloud of doubt.

Having endured another day without much event or prospect of a new home, they settled in for the evening in a clearing on the shore of a secluded alpine lake. It was a small and quiet lake, fringed by stately pines and fed by a stream which cautiously meandered from the bordering mountains. Water lapped soothingly at the shoreline and the frosty, winter breezes rustled the trees ever so gently.

Saphira alighted smoothly and crouched low to allow Eragon an easier dismount from the saddle. Eragon inhaled the fresh mountain air, the crisp scent of pines tingling in his nose. He sighed contentedly and stretched the stiffness from his limbs.

With hardly a second thought, both Eragon and Saphira lapsed into each other’s consciousness, enfolding their troubled minds with the comforting presence of their soul mates. It felt wonderful to break the routine when they shared their thoughts and feelings, and the strong emotional bonding they experienced gave fresh life to the day.

Eragon tried to focus on Saphira, but the concerns he had for their fate gnawed at him, chipping away his spirit like waves against a stone. Would they ever find a home which they could call their own? How many more years would need to pass? Even with the dragon Eldunari, how could he and Saphira alone, barely trained dragon and rider, possibly raise a new generation of dragons? Heavy waves of doubt plagued Eragon’s mind. The gnawing uncertainty of their fate thrashed against his waning spirit, consuming his thoughts with roiling emotions.

Saphira’s consciousness burst through his mind like a bright beacon, piercing the darkness that clouded it. He could feel Saphira’s shining warmth pushing out his uncertainty, washing his spirit clean in gentle brushes of comfort. Eragon latched onto her like a child to his mother, not daring to let go lest his own fears take him. Saphira’s whole being was intent on raising Eragon above the crushing weight of the world. She was there for him, and he was the only thing that mattered to her. Light poured down into Eragon’s soul as he felt himself lifted higher and higher, borne aloft by Saphira’s wonderful presence.

Eragon felt as if his head were above the clouds and his nerves were standing on end. The world around seemed so vast and full of life, and he could feel every bit of it, seething and sparking all around him. He knew Saphira felt the same by the way she purred from inside her throat, the way she did when she was deeply pleased. He also knew that she and he were the only two sparks of life that mattered at all right then. The rest of the world would just have to sort itself out for the time being.

Eragon and Saphira gently settled out of their mental euphoria, slowly spiraling down to earth like a pair of leaves in the wind. They landed together, their thoughts reassembling within reality until their senses caught up to their surroundings. Sluggishly, their thoughts came back to them one by one like a trail of breadcrumbs.

They were by a lake.

It was getting dark.

They were quite hungry.

Eragon and Saphira were both in agreement that hunger was the most pressing matter to attend to. Lunch that day had been small and brief, consisting of only a few wild hares and local herbs which Eragon had foraged for them. Lunch seemed like a distant memory now, which only intensified the growling in their stomachs.

Saphira was too tired to hunt tonight, so Eragon made his way to the shore of the lake to see what food he might find there. He sensed fish teeming in little schools in the shallows. It would be a simple matter to catch them. Magic would certainly do the trick.

Anytime he used magic, he enjoyed thinking over the myriad ways tasks could be performed with magic. Fish, for instance, could be caught by boiling the water around them or moving the water containing them. One could even influence them to move towards the shore in a number of ways.

He had decided a to employ mental coercion, imbuing the fish with the desire to swim ashore. Saphira watched greedily as all the fish within Eragon’s mental influence swam headlong onto dry land. Eragon counted about thirty beached fish when he ceased his mental assault. After hastily assembling a makeshift fire pit out of driftwood and stones, he set about the trivial task of lighting the fire.

“Istalri!” he commanded, instantly igniting the dry wood. The word “brisingr” was more direct for the task of firemaking, but had the inexplicable effect of setting fire to his sword, so he hardly ever used the word anymore.

With the fire crackling and lapping nicely, Eragon took three of the fish for himself and started to clean them. Saphira snapped up the rest of the fish for herself.

Ingenious method, but I think boiling the water would have been more efficient, said Saphira mentally, her mouth full. They would be cooked and easy to gather, .

Eragon looked up from the fish he was preparing. “It doesn’t make any difference to you. They cook nicely in your throat. Besides, this method required less energy.”

Saphira huffed between mouthfuls as Eragon procured from his pack a large flat river rock he typically used for cooking. Less energy than you use when carrying that cumbersome thing? she chuckled.

Eragon rolled his eyes as he felt Saphira’s amusement. It was the same amusement she felt whenever she knew when she was justifiably right, especially on issues regarding food. “I’ll eat how I want, and you eat how you want, okay?” he replied huffily.

Saphira gave another chuckle, bits of fish spewing from between her jaws. A smile formed on the corner of Eragon’s lips. He shook his head and resumed his supper preparations. This was something like the third time in a week Saphira had given him a hard time about his food habits, a trend that had actually begun when Eragon decided to start eating meat again. Saphira loved to bring up how foolish she thought Eragon had been in refusing meat for so long, tossing in jabs about the silly ways he ate, in her typical not-so-subtle fashion. It was also her way of getting back at Eragon for the not-so-subtle comments he made about her weight from time to time.

Saphira finished eating before Eragon even began cooking his first fish. She licked her teeth clean of any remains of her meal and started to chew on some fireweed that grew nearby. Her senses delighted in the scent of cooking fish. She did not sense the same delight in Eragon, quite the opposite actually.

What is wrong, Little One? she asked.

Eragon turned to Saphira, his face set like a heavy stone. “You know what’s wrong,” he replied, shrugging.

I do, but I like to ask all the same.

“It’s just….” he began, “oh, I don’t know.” Glumly he prodded his fish to examine how well it was cooking.

Leaving our loved ones behind. Raising the next generation of dragons and riders. The burden we must bear, Saphira reflected sagely.

Eragon’s head wavered somewhere between a nod and a shrug as Saphira’s warm breath tickled his neck. She didn’t need to say it, but all the same it felt somewhat good to reconcile the troubles they both carried. Eragon slumped heavily against a log and heaved a great sigh.

But so long as it is a burden we bear together, she said with a gentle nudge, then I would not mind carrying it until the end of all things.

Eragon smiled as the warmth of Saphira’s breath became indistinguishable from the warmth of her feelings. He let his shoulders slide down easily as Saphira’s spirit enveloped him in affection.

Thanks, he conveyed gratefully.

Saphira hummed deep in her throat and tousled Eragon’s hair with her breath. She covered Eragon in motherly warmth and sympathy, letting her precious Little One know that she would always be there to pick him up, that she would always be there for him, that he was the reason she existed.

The pair remained locked in blissful communion until it felt like hours had passed with them lost in each other. Evening slowly closed her curtain over them and nocturnal sounds began hailing the arrival of nighttime. Faint traces of dusklight trickled through the trees, eventually disappearing with the sun over the distant horizon.

The light is fading fast, Eragon, noted Saphira through the link. We should settle ourselves down for the night.

Eragon clung to Saphira’s warm consciousness for a moment longer before reluctantly returning to reality. We’d better get some sleep, he agreed with a sigh, the faint red on the horizon gradually fading to deep purple. A Nightingale began warming up its voice for its nightly song while crickets joined in for the chorus. We should be absolutely fresh to explore further into these lands tomorrow. Another day of traveling, searching, and fruitless prospects.

Saphira conveyed hearty agreement as she nestled herself into a bed of smooth stones between the lake and the edge of the woods. She hummed contentedly.

Hmmm…… she gave a bemused snort. I wouldn’t mind it. Every day living with you is an adventure to me.

Eragon smiled and rested his head against Saphira’s warm side as she put a protective wing over him. The pair began unconsciously drifting into each others consciousness as sleep crept over them.

Tomorrow, thought Eragon, tomorrow would be a new day in a new world. Tomorrow would be when things would finally be looking up for the two of them. Tomorrow would be when their weary search would finally prove its worth.

The Nightingale led them to sleep with a calming melody of nighttime, singing its song about the glittering stars and the silent moon. Eragon and Saphira drifted into their dreams, locked around each other in a warm mental embrace.

. . .

Far out in space, across mind-numbing distances and vast reaches of emptiness, the stars burned hot and bright. Immense, seething globes of light and energy toiled endlessly through unrest, constantly feeling the pull from each other, and coping with the violent, gnawing energies within. They pushed and pulled, around and around, gliding, floating, performing their intricate Dance of the Infinite, while the universe continued spinning around them.

Across eons of time and light-years of space the stars continued to waltz to the tempo of unseen forces. And worlds which existed a thousand lifetimes away watched the dance from where they sat and wondered what it all meant. The light of their dance cascaded through time and space, through the gaping void between worlds. It glided past stars and planets alike. It tumbled through atmospheres, causing thinking creatures to look up and blink. It spiraled down into a tiny, peaceful world, where harmony reigned and magic controlled the day and the night. It reached the eyes of a certain Alicorn Princess, and pierced right into her soul.

Princess Luna looked up at the night sky and blinked. The stars twinkled brightly against the deep, cold background of space. They shone on Luna with a close familiarity she had nurtured over her entire lifetime of looking up at them. She could call out each star and constellation by name: The Sphinx, Prietta’s Crown, Galea Fortuna. It gave Luna comfort to know that they would always be hanging in the sky for her. Even if the world collapsed around her, at least the stars would still shine.

But tonight something was different. She could sense it, see it, stirring in that black emptiness, the stars were trying to tell her something. Something about their shine was not right.

Without further pause she leapt down from her nightly post at the North Tower. She spread her deep blue wings and made a hasty descent to the castle. The universe seemed to be playing games with her, and she was not amused in the slightest.

Luna banked smoothly around the tower to where the north wall connected. A pair of stallions, weary and yawning from the night watch, snapped to attention as the princess alighted upon the castle ramparts.

“My Lady!” they said with rushed salutes, hastily rustling up spears and adjusting drooping helmets.

The princess brushed past them with hardly a second glance. She sped down the ramparts and across the courtyard, leaving the guards bleary and baffled.

A solitary torch flickered in its rung beside the scullery door, casting a faint orange glow around it. Besides the cold light of the moon, it was the only source of light in the courtyard. Its flame swayed as Luna threw open the door and entered in a whoosh. She passed swiftly through the kitchens and the great dining hall, the light of the moon casting pale shafts through the windows to guide her way. She glided noiselessly down the servant’s staircase.

Canterlot Castle lay as silent and still as a tomb. Its stately halls lay dormant, and its beautifully carved marble statues, so majestic in the light of day, cast suspiciously long shadows in the moonlight. During the day the castle would be filled with the activity of servants and guards going about their duties. Now, save for the castle guards, and one increasingly frantic princess, there was not a soul stirring in the place.

At another intersection of hallways Luna took a left towards the armory. She took no notice as another guard hailed her presence when she passed. Luna darted down another hallway filled with rows and rows of doors; the guards’ private quarters. She stopped at the door at the end of the hall and began knocking.

In his chamber, Nightfall arose at once from his light sleep, a harsh knocking at his door. His dreams had been pleasant, but his duties took precedence over nighttime fantasies. He donned his uniform in a rush, accidentally elbowing the lamp on his nightstand. He winced as it shattered on the floor, scattering pieces of glass everywhere. He sighed to himself, shrugging. He had “borrowed” the lamp from his sister the last time he had visited her in Saddle Arabia. It was quite an exquisite piece of artwork - not a bad reading light either - and his sister had been furious when she found out her brother had taken it. Probably about half as furious as she would be when she found out that it had been destroyed.

Nightfall nudged the brightly-stained shards of the lamp sullenly. He had promised to send the lamp back in one piece. His sister would be devastated. She would probably kill him for this, but he’d have to save regrets for later; duty was knocking at the door very aggressively now. He opened his door and saluted smartly, unsurprised to find Princess Luna standing before him.

“My La-”

The princess pulled Nightfall from his room before he had a chance to speak. He stifled a gulp. Even in the dim torchlight, Nightfall could see the Princess’ grimly set jaw, and the dread in her eyes.

“Follow me at once!” she whispered sharply.

Nightfall knew better than to second-guess the Princess of the Night, and followed without a word. For anypony else this would be unusual. Ponies weren’t meant to be lurking about this late, doing Tartarus-Knows-What, and perhaps not even Tartarus knew what had Princess Luna all in a fuss. But Nightfall knew there was always a reason. He didn’t need one right away, just like the fiasco with the Czar of Artrotzka and the Shaded Veil.

Oh yes, that was a fiasco.

It was dangerous, practically fatal to allow the Veil to get so close to the Czar, and though the Czar didn’t like the term “live bait,” that is exactly what he became under the circumstances. Nightfall hadn’t expected the Veil to make her move until after the Summer Sun Celebration, but the tea had been served cold that night, and Princess Luna was not one to rest on ceremony. The Princess had come to him that night, before the Sun-raising Ceremony, and he hadn’t needed an explanation then either. A good thing, too, as there wasn’t a second to spare. Precious seconds could mean the difference between life and death, thankfully life in the case of the Czar. As for the Veil, well, perhaps nopony needed to know.

That was all behind him now. Expecting the unexpected wasn’t an occupational formality; it was a necessary lifestyle. It would take more than a few late-night escapades to make him suspicious. Being a member of the Lunar Paladin, he was member to all types of business that the Princess did not want brought into the daylight. That was the way Equestria liked to keep it; out of sight, out of mind. That was the way Princess Luna liked to keep it.

Nightfall followed apace behind the Princess, passing down corridor after corridor, some sparsely lit by torches or lanterns, others lit only by the silver moonlight through arched windows. After a while, it seemed to Nightfall that they were traversing fewer and fewer lantern-lit hallways, and even the moonlight seemed to have trouble finding any windows to sneak in through. Neither of them spoke. The only sound between the two was the faint clicking their hooves made on the marble floor.

Not a single soul greeted them as they made their silent pilgrimage, which Nightfall surmised was intentional on the part of the Princess. Anytime they encountered a wavering light or some soft echoed voices of guards from a distant corridor, Princess Luna would hastily lead off in a different direction. Whatever business that ponies didn’t need to get their snouts in, Princess Luna carefully, if not tactfully, kept out of reach so they’d never have to get their snouts in it in the first place.

But Nightfall couldn’t help noticing that there weren’t any torches to be found in the hallways that they were now passing through. The windows all seemed higher and dirtier, as though the pegasus window-washers hadn’t passed this hallway in several months. He didn’t have time to dwell on this for much longer, as Princess Luna whisked them down another flight of stairs and into another hallway.

The hallway they now found themselves in made Nightfall slightly uneasy. It was filled with stone busts of famous ponies, most of which Nightfall had forgotten the names of, but that wasn’t what disconcerted him. Quite unexpectedly, Nightfall found himself a bit turned around. He had had enough trouble keeping his bearings with all the backtracking and guard-dodging - not to mention the lack of decent lighting - and now he didn’t recognize this part of the castle at all. In fact, he could swear that he’d never seen that bust of Starswirl the Bearded before. It looked cracked, dusty, with the long beard chipped in several places, but he didn’t have much time to think about that either, for now Luna had them darting down another dark passage.

They rounded a corner and at last came to the grimmest hallway they had yet traversed, and one which Nightfall had certainly never seen. He gasped, then spluttered as stale, dusty air filled his lungs. The place smelled musty and damp despite it still being above ground-level. Dour, lusterless moonlight trickled from tall, grimy windows, revealing an equally grimy stone floor, covered by a threadbare scarlet carpet, which must have been splendid in its heyday. Now, however, it could hardly be distinguished from the grey stone which surrounded it and frequently showed through its tattered shreds. This hallway obviously hadn’t been touched in years.

Between the windows were darkened alcoves in the walls, filled with sinister-looking statues. The statues depicted all sorts of creatures, from ponies to griffons, minotaurs to alicorns, and several which Nightfall could not immediately identify. At the base of these statues were placards inscribed with long-forgotten names, ancient dates, and terrible misdeeds.

Nightfall’s eyes rested on a dusty statue of a great minotaur. “Krulgar the Tyrant,” he read aloud. “Brought devastation with his Endless Hordes of Ruin in the fourth Solar Era.” The statue was enormous, nearly twenty-five feet tall. At its base were figures carved of the tyrant’s foes being crushed beneath his hoof. Its face was carved into a savage snarl, frozen forever in the ageless stone. Nightfall shuddered at the image created of this ancient terror.

He looked to the next nearest statue. In the stone and lurking shadows was a strange creature the likes of which he had never seen. The creature had a long, segmented body with several spider-like limbs which seemed to protrude from it with no heed to symmetry. Nightfall read the inscription at the base.

“Despair of Eons. Showed the world that Cruelty had a face in the twenty-second Lunar Era.” Nightfall looked up to where he expected a grotesque visage to be carved in the stone. Instead he found a smoothly-hewn face of blank stone at the head of the hideous creature.

“Its face was too horrible to preserve in any memory,” said the Princess. “When it was defeated,” she continued, “it was cast into the deepest, darkest pit of Tartarus, where light would never again reach its unholy features.”

Nightfall shuffled uneasily where he stood. All these statues were reminders, terrible reminders of ancient evils and great calamity. He felt as though the statues were all reaching out to take him and drag him back to the dark eras they rose from. Even the hallway itself seemed filled with malice. The tense moonlight cast long, gripping shadows along the floor, which crept along as though they were stalking prey.

Nightfall coughed. “You have a task for me, o Mistress,” he said, straightening up.

The Princess led him to the end of the hall, passing horror after horror along their way. Out of the corner of his eye Nightfall saw many names he did not recognize, but a few he did. “Discord, Lord of Chaos…...Vol-Draen, the Sundered Soul…...Sombra, the Shadow King…..”

They stopped before a statue at the end of the hall. Luna bent her head before it. “Here,” she said stiffly.

Nightfall looked up at the statue and froze. The statue’s large, black, bat-like wings were spread wide as though leaving no escape, and fangs jutted out beneath its lips, which were curved in a cruel sneer on its face. The cold, stony eyes of the statue starred outwards with condescension and icy indifference. This was a creature he certainly recognized.

“Nightmare Moon. Smote the land with Darkness in the twelfth Solar Era.”

The already-darkened hallway seemed to get darker as he spoke the words of the inscription aloud. An icy chill went down his spine and a horrible feeling overtook him, an emptiness that was only replaced by more emptiness. The statue suddenly looked like the darkest thing in the hallway. He couldn’t bare to look at it any longer.

“.....H-....Highness!…..” he gasped, the air suddenly returning to his lungs.

“Things are ahoof, Nightfall. Terrible things,” said the Princess solemnly. Her face looked calm, profoundly calm, just as the moon which shone bleakly through the smeared windows. She stared at the wicked stone with crushing serenity, not even batting an eyelash.

Nightfall knew that the image created by that statue was most hateful above all things to Princess Luna. This statue represented everything that Luna now strove to eradicate from her kingdom, and from herself most of all. He thought he could detect a hint of almost-taunting in her stoic gaze. She was enticing the statue, daring it even, to try to come back.

Without a word, she leaned inwards and touched the tip of her horn to the black needle protruding from the head of the statue. A pale blue aura surrounded her horn and swirled around to envelope the black figure of Nightmare Moon. It glowed and trembled violently for a few moments, shedding years of accumulated dust and filth. With a grinding crunch, the entire statue lurched back into its alcove, revealing a passageway at its base. The glowing and trembling of the statue ceased as suddenly as it had begun, leaving the two shadowy ponies standing before the yawning hole.

“Come,” said the Princess, her gaze still fixed on the statue now sunken into the alcove. She stepped down into the blackness. Her hooves clicked away down the steps into the unknown.

Nightfall had questions. Many questions. But questions were a luxury reserved for those with time. Hesitation had rarely been a condition for him to live by. Every breath he drew could be sompony else’s last. He had never found time to be on his side. Without further pause, he stepped into the hollow passage after his Mistress, and the two descended wordlessly into the darkness.

Chapter 1: A Party Postponed

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

chapter 2: Wanderlust

Please note, I am only posting this now as you all are asking for it, but it is not quite there yet, I also have 2 other chapters but will try to finish them and this one as soon as I can. sorry for the wait.

It is a well-known fact that a dragon’s side is one of the safest, and simultaneously most dangerous place to sleep. While a person enjoys resting beneath the safety of their imposing bedfellow, they also run the risk of surrendering a limb should that bedfellow shift around in her sleep. It was for this reason that Eragon found himself in a much different spot when he awoke: a good twenty or so yards away from Saphira’s side. As a result of this relocation, he was quite well-rested. It had been a surprisingly pleasant night’s rest, more pleasant than one might expect after an entire day of flying, and even considering that Saphira had nearly stabbed Eragon with her sharp spines from a sudden stretch during the night.

The morning was biting and clear, with the sun barely peeking out over the distant pine-crested slopes. An icy wind blew down from the mountains, carrying frozen tidings of frigid slopes. This, however, didn’t stop Eragon from taking an early-morning swim in the lake without clothes or even magic to aide him. He came out of the lake from his swim, dripping and damp, with freezing winds threatening to send his teeth into a chatter, and with a bright grin upon his face, feeling finer than he had in months.

“I feel like a new man!” he declared. “It’s as though I’ve been baptized in the waters of promise, and there’s not a thing on earth which can break that promise. I feel as fresh and sharp as a Spring day!”

Saphira, who had been trying to enjoy her own morning baptism in the waters of “two more hours of sleep” grumbled at Eragon from beneath her wing. Ugh, keep your voice down! she rumbled. I would not reach to call this unwholesome hour “morning.”’Tis an hour fit only for crawling, slithering creatures that live in the ground, and other things which have no use for beauty sleep. It is not morning until the sun has warmed my scales and the scent of finely-cooked meat is in my nostrils.

She rolled over onto her side, tossing up a hail of river stones which Eragon was forced to deflect with his palm. “Hey, watch it!” he cried.

All Eragon received in reply was another roll of irritated thunder from Saphira’s throat. He knew too well that Saphira wasn’t in any sort of sporting mood, so he decided to search the nearby woods for game which would hopefully brighten Saphira’s demeanor.

The dawn’s glare pierced Saphira’s closed eyelids mercilessly. Grudgingly, she pulled a wing over her head, snorting loudly as she did. Her sleep had not been pleasant, being filled with troubling dreams of unfortunate hunts. Her nightly thrashings had turned her smooth bed of stones into a sizable crater—she was glad Eragon had relocated himself during the night.

The disturbing dreams were becoming more and more frequent as their quest continued. What had started as a series of a troubling nuisances every now and then was now a frequent and genuine concern. The past week alone, Saphira was torn from sleep by violent nightmares on two separate occasions. The first night she had awoken in a rage, merely spouting a burst of fire from her mouth and setting the nearby trees ablaze. Eragon had not been in harm’s way for that mishap, but the next night she had nearly cleaved Eragon in two with a swipe from her spiked tail. Thankfully, Eragon’s reflexes were swift and his reassurances swifter, but the nightmares persisted. She was afraid of what might happen the next time she had a nightmare, when Eragon might be in a particularly sound slumber.

Saphira groaned and buried her head beneath the stones. A sickening image overtook her as she imagined what she had nearly done to Eragon that previous night. Why couldn’t she control her mind? She rolled over in her crater, flinging more stones into the air. Her stomach growled with gnawing hunger, and a foul flavor crept up her throat from her stomach. She concluded that fish was a terrible dinner to eat late after a full day of flying.

Hopefully Eragon has found something better to eat than aquatic trifles, she thought to herself.

Eragon had in fact had a very successful hunt in the nearby woods, and he returned to the camp toting several young hares over his shoulder. “I’m back!” he hollered to Saphira. “It isn’t much, but it is certainly better than last night’s supper.” Grinning cheerfully, he laid the hares out on a tree stump and set about cleaning the carcasses. He raised a cheeky brow at Saphira. “You’ll be wanting the king’s share, I assume?”

At the smell of fresh meat, Saphira was roused and testing the air hungrily with her tongue. She yawned and worked her wings around in small circles, stretching the night’s stiffness from them.

A queen’s share will suit me just fine, thank you, she corrected. After all, I certainly deserve it. You would do well to remember who must do all the flying for the two of us. She snapped up several of the hares in a single gulp and grinned, showing off her formidable row of pristine white fangs. And who of the two of us has the larger appetite.

Eragon smiled, shaking his head as he turned back to his own meager breakfast. He’d saved the leanest of hares for himself. Saphira, having finished her meal, was now eyeing the scrawny carcass that was slowly roasting above the fire.

“Hey, you got your queen’s portion, leave some for the kitchen boys, too!” Eragon chuckled, making a shooing gesture with his hand.

Dejectedly, Saphira slumped herself into her crater-bed of stones. As was her morning custom, she began rubbing her sides and underbelly against the ground, tearing up loose earth and roots as she did. She gave a satisfied sigh.

While Saphira groomed herself, Eragon finished his meal silently and appreciated the coolness of the morning. The air was calm and fresh, and carried a wet, rich earthiness from the lake. Eragon gazed out over the water. There was still some traces of mist clinging to the surface that the sun’s rays had not yet chased away. He sighed, feeling slightly regretful that they would be leaving this beautiful spot shortly. At length, Eragon rose to his feet and took a deep breath.

“Ready to get moving again, Saphira?”

In a minute. I rather enjoy the feel of these lake shore stones. They’re so slippery and cold, and rather refreshing.

Eragon gathered a few supplies into his pack, then fetched Saphira’s saddle from its resting place atop a fallen tree trunk. “You’re going to need to stop rolling around eventually so I can get this saddle on you,” he said, resting himself against the trunk. He tucked his arms behind his head and simply observed Saphira while she rolled about. He thought she looked quite like an enormous cat playing with a ball of string. Saphira was less than amused by Eragon’s impressions.

After Eragon spent a few more minutes packing, Saphira had her fill of rolling and was eager to be moving once again. Once Eragon secured the saddle to Saphira’s back, Saphira launched herself into the air and did a brief lap around the lake while Eragon waited from the shore. Eragon gathered the rest of their supplies and cleaned up the camp. He used magic to levitate some damp sand above the fire to put it out, then continued to hunt down his bedroll.

He grimaced when he found the bedroll, or what remained of it, on the far side of Saphira’s crater. His fine travel bed that had been a homely comfort for many months had been reduced to tattered shreds after Saphira’s recent night terror. He turned the torn hide over in his arms, sighing sadly.

No more cushy nights for a while, he thought. He turned his head as a blast of air hailed Saphira’s arrival to the lakeshore once again. “They’re getting worse, aren’t they? The dreams, I mean,” said Eragon.

I am deeply sorry about last night, she replied remorsefully. It’s all this traveling we’ve been doing, and the indecent meals I’ve gotten for it all. My belly has been barer than a beggar’s cupboard for weeks now. I’ve become so gaunt, you can nearly see right through me!

Eragon smiled slyly. I wouldn’t go far as to say that…. He felt a warning flare up from Saphira’s mind. ...but you’re absolutely right, Saphira. A dragon needs much more than fish and hare to live on. We need to get you some real meat for a change.

I would appreciate that immensely, said Saphira with a pleased hum.

Eragon nodded and continued loading up their remaining supplies into the saddle. He sighed as he tossed away his now useless bedroll. He felt a slight twinge creep up his lower back, punctuating the fact that he would not be able to sleep comfortably for a while. The ground would have to suffice until he could stitch up a new bedroll.

With the rest of their supplies packed safely away, Eragon saddled up and prepared for another long day’s flight. The sun had hardly reached full circle above the pines when the two companions took to the skies once more. They took one final aerial lap around the edge of the lake before embarking into the wilds beyond. Eragon watched while the air of Saphira’s wingbeats sent ripples out across the water, stirring the glassy surface and gradually subsiding to nothing. He spared a final wistful glance back to their pristine hideaway before Saphira went reeling high and away into the bright blue sky.

***

The air around them was cool and fresh, and the sky brazened with gold as the sun crept into view. The wind was strong at their back, an ideal tailwind for flying. The cloudless sky hung above their heads as if it were a brilliant blue curtain of silk stretching out for miles and miles in every direction. Below them spread a vast white landscape, thickly dotted with snow-covered trees and bounding hills. Here and there the hills would reach high up into the air like tall waves lapping up to the sides of the mountains, then crash down into deep, frozen gorges that yawned with dark blue ice. The mountains rose up high and proud to the north, looking like great mounds of earth had been gathered up in rounded heaps, then powdered with sparkling snow.

“Those look almost like The Spine back in Alagaësia,” Eragon noted. “They’re not quite as jagged as The Spine was though. These peaks tend to roll much more, and have a much less intimidating look about them.”

Very true, said Saphira. These mountains look less like the spines of a dragon’s back, and more like the lumps of a troll’s hide.

Eragon’s eye followed the mountain range as it continued far into the east, where its most distant peaks could just barely be seen as grey silhouettes. To the south was spread a vast and varied wilderness, with only the occasional river or tall hill creating any landmark. He puzzled in his head about what the various features could indicate about the surrounding environment, whether it was somewhat docile, or if wild and ravenous beasts roamed. It certainly looked pleasant enough, sparkling white as it did in the bright sunlight, but snow had that sort of pacifying effect on most types of landscapes. Beneath that innocent white veil of powder some more sinister creatures could be lurking with empty bellies, waiting for any sort of meal to manifest itself.

I do wish we were able to explore some of these places more thoroughly, said Eragon. I can feel all kinds of life teeming down below us, even some which are entirely unfamiliar to me. Do you think we shall get to encounter some of these creatures someday?

I think we shall have plenty of opportunities for life to surprise us. After all, life has a long plan set for us to follow, replied Saphira.

Eragon frowned slightly. It’s the following that I’m uncomfortable with.

Saphira pondered this silently for a few moments. Her wings pumped a few strokes in the strong breeze. Why do you think that? Just because we have a duty, that does not mean that our lives must be entirely consumed by it, she said at length.

But what if it does? Raising new dragons is a daunting task, even for a well-seasoned Dragon and Rider! There is no task more important to us, I know. I understand the gravity of it, and that is what unsettles me. It’s not so much a question of “Can we do it?” as it is, “Is this all we’re allowed to do?” Suppose we’ll live out our endless years playing nursemaids to hatchlings, never again to venture the wide world, never allowed to leave the confines of our front gate?

Do you grow weary of our task before it has even begun? scoffed Saphira lightly. Little One, there are none who understand your misgivings better than I. True, this task may be ours to bear until the end of our years, but who is to say that those years will not be an adventure in and of themselves? Already we have journeyed far and wide over the world. Our travels have brought us to places few eyes have ever seen, at least few eyes from Alagaësia. We have shared in great wonders together, and I doubt that the world will ever run out of secrets for us to discover.

But I agree, she continued, that our home doesn’t quite need to be over the next hill. Or, perhaps it can be, just so long as that hill is more like a mountain, and brimming with thrills and adventure.

Eragon smiled and sat quietly with his thoughts. Saphira was right, as she usually was. A Dragon Rider was meant to be a teacher, Eragon didn’t deny this. He thought he could come to terms with the fact that he and Saphira would spend their years educating the generations to come in the ways of magic and harmony. Oromis and Glaedr had devoted themselves to a quieter life of reflection and teaching in Ellesméra, but that was not until much, much later into their lives. Eragon still remembered well the tales Oromis had told of his younger years as a Rider, venturing far and wide over the remotest reaches of Alagaësia, and still he desired years like that. Here he was now with Saphira, traveling far beyond their known world, yet it was all in the name of a higher responsibility. It didn’t feel quite as Eragon desired. Though Saphira and he soared together, a vast and unexplored wilderness below them, the spirit of adventure was overshadowed by their pressing duty. Eragon settled back into the saddle with a sigh and a yawn. The blue sky stretched ever onwards towards the horizon, taunting him with visions of the unknown.

They continued following along the base of the mountains for a greater portion of the day, covering many miles without stopping to rest once. The wind kept up a freezing assault, yet carried them steadfastly along the snowy slopes. Eragon had to maintain magical wards to prevent the icy winds from freezing him, and Saphira had to compensate for the cold air by making an occasional climb in altitude. They did not feel over-wearied, though they knew they must have flown several leagues. Eragon supposed that he and Saphira were just becoming so used to the routine that their bodies no longer cared how much stress they endured. He shared this theory with Saphira, who harumphed at him.

I should like you to try on this pair of wings for yourself, carry all our supplies—plus one insatiable Rider—and see how used to the routine you become!

Eragon grinned smugly. “Have I really been so terrible on this trip?”

No, but a prolonged flight fueled by only a few scrawny hares is doomed to be unpleasant, mostly for the flyer, who will then make things much more unpleasant for the rider. Saphira’s wings snapped upright to make an adjustment for a sudden gust of wind. I’m not saying that I’m tired, but energy stored in stones is poor compensation for an empty stomach. She was referring to the energy which Eragon had been stowing away in Brom’s ring, and occasionally transferred to Saphira during long flights.

Eragon was inclined to agree with Saphira. He could think of many things more appealing than a hungry dragon. A dragon can sometimes be a very testy flying companion, making trivial complaints about the nature of the air currents or how one’s wings ached and strained, and that was when they weren’t flying on an empty belly. Dragons are sufficiently dangerous without visions of food constantly floating through their heads. Eragon was quite aware of Saphira’s hungry visions as he shared her thoughts. Pictures of fattened cattle—tasty and slow, their flesh seared in the fires of Saphira’s belly, and the delicious fumes they gave off when cooking—wafted through his mind. He found it even less comforting to suddenly imagine himself as naught more than a meaty morsel atop Saphira’s back.

“Saphira, I know you’re hungry, but could you possibly keep those thoughts to yourself?” he asked as politely as possible; It was best to stay in a hungry dragon’s good favor.

Saphira huffed heavily, but agreed to keep her hunger fantasies more private. I’m sorry Eragon, I will control my urges, but it is difficult. Small meals may sustain you, but a full-grown dragon needs more. We should stop soon to hunt.

“Yes, we should,” agreed Eragon, noting Saphira’s rapidly waning energy. He peered below and spotted a river beneath them, flowing like a shimmering ribbon of blue in a sea of white. We can stop here to hunt and rest for a few hours, then move on once you’re feeling up to it.

Saphira gave a grateful sigh, then began circling down over the trees to the spot Eragon had noted. They closed in upon the river slowly, with Saphira making some unsettling maneuvers. Her hunger must have been more severe than Eragon had first imagined. It was none too soon for a rest.

Eragon turned his gaze on the sparkling river and patted Saphira’s neck. Not a bad spot, eh? How are you feeling now?

As a reply Saphira opened up a small channel to her physical well-being. All at once, Eragon’s mind reeled as he experienced Saphira’s physical turmoil. He felt the strain of Saphira’s wings as the tiny amount of energy in her body was pushed to where it was needed most. Her lungs heaved and her immense heart pounded in her chest, sending tremors up Eragon’s calves. Her breath came out in sharp, ragged huffs. Eragon feared that Saphira might be near complete exhaustion. She needed a substantial meal soon, or she might drop right out of the sky.

The riverbank was covered by the arching branches of unnaturally tall willows and was guarded on all sides by thick rows of dark pines. Saphira alighted somewhat heavily, her tail hitting the water with a loud splash as she landed. Eragon dismounted and quickly unburdened Saphira of their supplies. As soon as she was able, Saphira took wing once more. Now lightened of their burdensome supplies and anticipating the prospect of an invigorating hunt, she found some extra strength to glide over the treetops in search of prey.

Eragon stepped over to the icy river and dipped his goatskin pouch into the rushing waters. As he did so, he noticed some fireweed growing nearby. It would make a nice treat to spice up their meals in the future, so he decided to gather some for later. His thoughts remained with Saphira as she scoured the landscape for food. He sat upright against a Spruce tree, propped his legs on a root, put a small clump of the Fireweed in his mouth, and waited.

Under most circumstances the pair never wished to separate, especially in a strange land. So far on their journey, they had hardly left each other’s side. Even Eragon’s little hunting expedition that morning had hardly taken him a mere hundred yards from their camp. But with Saphira’s energy levels running so dangerously low, they both agreed that it would be safer for Eragon to wait for Saphira to return. That way Eragon wouldn’t need to be an unnecessary weight upon her back or distract her from hunting.

At any rate, thought Eragon, keeping our mental link lets us keep tabs on each other as though we never parted.

Saphira sent back a note of affirmation even as her mind began swarming with hunter’s instincts. Her thoughts lit up with fiery excitement. I’m sensing some wonderful morsels snuffling around down there, she conveyed. Bemused, Eragon waited while Saphira gave an account of her hunt. Ah….I’m seeing a few deer down there beneath that cliff—don’t think they’ve seen my shadow yet, but let me climb a little higher just in case. Oh, yes…..now they’ve seen it! They’re running! Right for the river….time to dive. It’s going to be tight between those trees—

Saphira’s thoughts suddenly became very muddled, and Eragon shook himself out of the link. He heard a terrible crash in the distance, then a loud and triumphant roar that shook the snow from the trees.

Feel better? he asked.

Much better came Saphira’s hasty reply.

Eragon once more backed out of the link to let Saphira have some privacy while she ate. His keen ears picked up the sounds of her teeth rending the flesh of her quarry a few miles downriver.

Then his ears picked up another noise, quite faint at first, so faint that he couldn’t guess what it was. He scowled, inclining his ear in the direction of the sound. It was a steady rumbling noise, like the pounding of drums in the Earth. “Avalanche perhaps? Hard to say,” he mused. Sound traveled far in the cold air, and by Eragon’s reckoning the rumbling was at least ten miles East of their current position.

Saphira, do you hear that? he conveyed. Saphira didn’t reply directly. All Eragon received was her slightly irritated mental rebuttal surrounded by the taste of fresh meat and blood. Eragon reeled back and gagged. Buh, sorry I asked, he moaned.

Whatever was creating the sound, it didn’t seem like too much of a threat. “It’s quite a ways off,” said Eragon, “and it likely shouldn’t concern us. Maybe an avalanche in the mountains.” He went back to his Fireweed and his position against the Spruce tree. A great yawn suddenly overtook him. He felt he might nap a little before Saphira returned from her hunt.

But he never got the chance. His head snapped upright quite suddenly. He could sense something wasn’t right. Once more he strained to hear the source of the rumbling, but this time he didn’t need to strain. The rumbling was disturbingly audible, and there was something else, another troubling sound in the air. The sound of birds crying. Thousands of them.

“That can’t be right at all,” said Eragon as he stood to his feet, a faint dread growing within him.

Suddenly Saphira’s voice broke into his mind. Eragon, there is something evil coming this way! she said. I feel a dark presence bearing down upon us at a great pace. We must fly from here at once!

“Do you know what it is?” replied Eragon, his pulse quickening. “Do you think it senses us?”

I do not think it senses us or anything else in its path. There is only want and hunger coming from it, like an empty void that can never be filled. Make haste and meet me in the woods!

Eragon sensed Saphira leaving her unfinished meal and taking to the air in a great flurry of wings. At once he sped off into the woods in the direction of Saphira’s presence. He leapt over fallen tree trunks, dodged limbs and protruding roots, and unstable channels where the snow had laid deceptive ankle-twisting traps. The forestry skills he’d gained from Arya were definitely paying off in spades.

Eragon, you must see this for yourself, said Saphira suddenly. She conveyed an image of her flight, surrounded by a dark sea of green treetops like a vast bed of nails. Her vision turned to the East from whence the sounds had come. There, no more than half a mile away, evil was looming. Instead of clear blue sky and mountains in the distance, there was instead an enormous dark cloud swallowing the horizon. It stretched out a world’s distance from North to South, and went up farther than the eye could reach. From within its dreadful bowels there churned unnatural forces, spitting cinders and huge arcs of lightning that lit up for miles and miles all throughout it. And in front of this cloud, placed along its world-consuming length just above the treetops, was a black line; thousands of birds driven on in front of the menacing storm like a maddened horse beneath the angry whip of its master.

The storm was unlike anything they had seen before. An icy fear stung Saphira, and pierced deep into Eragon. Few things in the world could shake a dragon. That Saphira should be afraid made Eragon go numb with terror. He tripped and fell to his knees in the bitter snow, his body racked with tremors. There he laid for several seconds, his mind dwelling only on the deep rumble coming from beyond. Then Saphira’s mind burst into his like a flood of light.

Do not be afraid, Eragon. Her thoughts melted some of the ice in Eragon’s soul, but there were still hints of fear dotted within. I know not what horror now confronts us, but it shan’t defeat us. But now is not the time for fighting until we know what nature of evil this is. We must learn more, but for now we must fly.

“Saphira….” Eragon gasped as he collapsed into the snow. He heard the dreadful cadence of the storm approaching nearer by the second, and the tortured screams of the birds being driven ahead of it. Despair clenched its fist around his spirit. Then a blast of warm air came down upon Eragon from above. Down came Saphira, descending through the trees like a magnificent guardian angel, radiating power and love.

I will never leave you, Little One.

The sky suddenly darkened above them. They could hear the grinding and gnawing of the storm pressing down upon them. Eragon could not find the strength to get himself upon Saphira’s back, so instead she lifted him up in her claws. Eragon looked to the skies above and saw it split in two. On one side there was clear blue of the clean world. Facing it down on the other side, and rapidly consuming his view, was darkness and doom.

Then for a moment it seemed that all the terrible sounds had vanished, and the air was sucked from Eragon’s and Saphira’s lungs. And then with the force of a hurricane, the multitude of birds suddenly came wailing over the trees above them in their maddened flight. There were birds of every sort, from geese to sparrows, hawks to ravens, even gulls and pelicans. They numbered so greatly that they cast the ground below them in a shade, and sent the trees shuddering from the violent gusts of wind which they carried with them.

Before Eragon and Saphira quite had a grasp on what was happening, the swarm of birds had descended and surrounded them in a confusing blur of anguished cries and frazzled feathers. The wind and shrieks from the birds tore at their senses as though they were in the midst of a gale at sea. Saphira snarled and roared as the birds descended around them, but they were heedless of her, for she was far less of a threat than their pursuer. She snapped and clawed at them, trying to get them to scatter. Eragon tried to place a magical ward around them, but before the first word had even left his lips, he felt himself falling.

Any number of things may have added to Saphira’s lapse in diligence: her hunger, her fear, the wretched birds. In any event, she realized a split second too late that her grip on Eragon was loosened, and that he was slipping from her grasp.

Eragon! she cried, desperately clawing the air beneath her; the infernal birds were blocking her view. A second later she felt a jolting pain as Eragon impacted the forest floor. She roared, sending an immense plume of fire into the swarm of birds. That caused many to scatter, leaving a large enough hole for her to see clearly what was below her. She spied Eragon directly beneath her, lying unconscious in the snow.

Immediately she went into a dive, hurtling at blinding speed back to the ground. Birds scattered wildly around her and trees bowed and branches buckled under the mighty force of her wings. She couldn’t hear the cries of the birds or even the thunderous roar of the impending storm, for there was only one thing that mattered. Every fiber of her senses and being were focused on getting to Eragon. No amount of peril could sway her from reaching him. Heedlessly, she plummeted to the ground. She was near enough to see his pale face, but got no nearer, for at that moment the storm engulfed them.

When the darkness enclosed her like the jaws of a giant beast, all light was smote from her vision and cold fear coursed through her body as though the blood in her veins was turned to ice. Of all the tales she’d heard of foolish dragons facing down the forces of nature, of all their headstrong pride and sickening ends, she felt that none could compare with the doomed tale she now found herself swept away in. She was no longer in control, no longer the dominant Empress of the Skies. For the first time in her life now she was the prey, consumed by the indomitable storm. Nothing could escape it, and nothing could survive.

The wind howled around her, pulling trees from the earth and tearing huge gashes in her wings. Great rivulets of electric fire cracked and thundered through the air, igniting the debris that had been swept into the storm. Saphira tumbled and spiraled out of control, roaring and spitting fire as her instincts clawed inside her. Separated from Eragon in this storm she was wild, a terrified animal out of its wits. She felt nothing but fear. She thought of nothing but survival. She saw nothing but darkness and fire and death all around her.

With a final despairing roar and a burst of bright flame, she cried out: Eragon!. Then the darkness became complete and she knew nothing more.

***

Hopping was one of Lobbin’s favorite pastimes. He could hop down the street all day long and never tire of it. Many a time beneath that eternal afternoon he’d be found bounding joyfully through the lovely gardens of Canterlot and flicking the pretty tulips that bloomed along the row. Other days he’d prance down the empty lanes of Mane Street while humming a cheery tune that he’d made up himself, a quirky number which recited names of all the shops lining the street as he passed them. Sometimes he’d take long skips through the forest far from the city and imagine he was a fairy sprite blessing all the flowers with dew. Then he’d hop into a cool stream and splash his hooves around with delight, for the water felt so good when it splashed. He’d hop through the emerald green hills and skip through the silent trees in the woods, playing devilish little games in his brain and imagining how it was when the birds used to sing.

“Hoodle-ha-hee, what a joy for me!” he’d sing happily, in a voice like a toad with laryngitis:

“Hopping’s the thing for me, yes sir!

Don’t care for crawling on bellies like beetles,

Pooh-pooh to prancing, it’s plebeian and plain,

Fie to that flound’ring and flopping of fins,

Trotting’s for the birds, and flying’s for the featherbrained.

But hop like a hare through the wood bright and fair,

now ain’t that the nectar of life!”

He suddenly stopped short in the middle of his carefree romp. There was something lying down among the trees, something that was not normal. He skittered over to take a closer look at the thing.

“Oh me, oh my! What fancy little frog do we have here today?”

It appeared to be a creature of some kind, lying unconcious facedown in the grass. It had four appendages and a very short tuft of a mane upon the top of its head. Its chest—or what appeared to be its chest—moved very slightly. The creature was alive!

Excitedly, Lobbin bent his head low and gave the creature a sharp sniff. He reared his head back and whinnied.

“OOOOOHH! This doesn’t belong here, no sir! This will please his Lordship, yes it will! He’s always looking for things that don’t belong here!”

That was enough for Lobbin. With smile and a grunt he heaved the short-maned creature upon his back, not noticing the shining blue sword lying on the grass beneath the creature’s belly.

Grinning an impressive row of wooden teeth, Lobbin kicked up his sagging heels and made his way merrily back home through the woods. The glint of the blue sword was soon swallowed up from view by the closing trees.

“What a day it’s been for ‘ol Lobby, eh?” he chuckled, immensely pleased with himself. “Why, I think I feel another song coming on!” Lobbin warmed himself up with a cough that sounded close to a backfiring blender.

“ERGHH-HEM!

Hoodle-ah-hoo, I’ve got news for you,

My fine froggy friend, you will see!

There’s no birds in the trees,

Nor hives filled with bees,

His Lordship’ll snuff out whatever don’t please!

When we get to his castle, we’ll see how ‘e finds you,

If you’re lucky enough, he’ll just torture and bind you,

You’re in for a treat, now the good life’s behind you,

Let’s see what ‘is Lordship will do!”

Lobbin grinned his cracked muzzle as the sight of Canterlot greeted him over the hilltop. “They aughta give me some kind of award for this angel’s voice,” he trilled to himself happily.

chapter 3: The Hall of Statues

The clock above the ticket booth chimed the hour. There was a hiss of steam, a final call for “All aboard!” and a clamor of hooves as ponies pressed their way up to the train to pass the conductor their tickets. A fresh load of passengers boarded, and the Express let off a final puff of steam and a departing whistle. The newly arrived ponies shuffled in and out of the station in a clockwork routine as the Express chuffed away from the platform.

With a spring of urgency in their step, the six ponies pressed and jostled their way through the station-goers, making with all haste for the exit. Twilight took the lead with Spike hot on her heels. He was in turn followed closely by Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Applejack, Fluttershy, with Pinkie Pie making the springy rubber caboose.

Once through the crowd, Twilight took a head count to make sure nopony had gotten lost in the dense station rabble. With all of her friends accounted for, she led the party forth into the bright station square, where she was halted almost immediately by an imposing-looking pegasus stallion in silver armor. His form was sleek, yet sturdy, covered in silver plate, and his face was almost entirely concealed by a heavy silver helmet.

“Miss Sparkle,” he began with a bow, his voice metallic and reverberant within the confines of his helmet. “The Princess has requested that I escort you and your friends to the castle immediately.”

“Thank you,” Twilight replied with a hasty nod. “Has there been some news of Princess Luna’s whereabouts?”

“No, I’m afraid not,” said the guard. He dropped his voice low and brought his head close to Twilight’s, the crest of his gleaming helm nearly touching the tip of Twilight’s horn. “We have not yet discovered what has happened to Princess Luna, but there has been another, potentially much more critical discovery. Princess Celestia is in dire need of your assistance.”

The color drained from Twilight’s face at the guard’s unsettling news. She nodded, turning to her friends. “You heard him, everypony! No time to waste, we must get to the castle on-the-double!”

With that, the troupe of friends made away through the streets of Canterlot towards the shining castle in the distance.

The seven ponies and Spike wasted no time, darting down snowy streets and whizzing past bewildered high-class gentlecolts in fine wool top hats. Wind whipped up their manes and slush squelched beneath their hooves. The evening had turned warm and the sun cast down painful rays which made them squint. Most of the shops lining the streets had closed hours ago, but ponies were still milling about in the streets. A few pointed to the skies with baffled or curious looks as suspicion of the prolonged daylight began to sink in. Canterlot Castle rose closer, towering over the city in regal benevolence.

The seven ponies slowed to a brisk trot as they approached the castle gate. Before they could reach the gate they were suddenly stopped, a large crowd of Canterlot denizens between them and their destination. Angry and frantic cries rose from the crowd while several guards attempted to quell the outbreak of a riot.

“Citizens, please remain calm!” yelled a guard. “There is no cause for alarm! The situation is well under control!”

The cries of frantic citizens quickly drowned out his voice like a tide.

“Control? What control? Who’s controlling the sun? Why hasn’t it moved?”

“Princess Celestia would know! Where is she? Why isn’t she here? Has something happened to her?”

“It’s like Nightmare Moon all over again, except we’re stuck in eternal day! What on earth can we do??”

“STAND ASIDE, CITIZENS!” boomed a thunderous voice.

The six friends covered their ears when their escort’s shout tore through the anguished cries of the crowd, his helmet amplifying his command like a voice in a vast, echoing chasm. Almost at once a path was cleared to the front gate, allowing them to pass through the crowd unhindered.

Their path collapsed inwards as soon as they had passed, and the angry shouts continued. Twilight and her friends slipped through the gate behind their escort, leaving the slowly-growing mob to fester in fear and confusion.

Once safely inside the castle walls, the ponies exchanged wide-eyed expressions over what they had just witnessed.

“Whew! Them ponies are as ravenous as a pack ‘o timberwolves!” exclaimed Applejack, letting out a low whistle. “Hope they don’t start lightin’ torches or grabbin’ up pitchforks!”

“I know!” gasped Rarity, “Absolutely horrendous! I mean, did you hear some of the appalling things they were saying? And about Princess Celestia, no less!”

“Tee-he! Didja hear what one of them called the Princess? Daymare Sun!” giggled Pinkie Pie. Her friends collectively rolled their eyes.

“I think it’s pretty awesome,” said Rainbow, cringing as barrage of glares was shot down on her. “I mean only in the sense that it’s exhilarating, all the stuff going on right now.” she corrected hastily. “Of course I don’t think an angry mob is a good thing, but it’s exciting, right?”

“That’s not quite the word I’d use for it,” mumbled Twilight. “And anyway, we’re here to fix the problem, not admire it! I certainly hope that the situation out there doesn’t get any worse. We’ve got enough problems to manage already with Princess Luna M.I.A. and the sun slowly scorching us to death. The last thing we need is a riot on our hooves.”

“Do you think the Princess knows she’s got a hornet’s nest brewin’ right at her doorstep?” said Applejack. “I didn’t like the looks on some of those ponies’ faces, no sir. I’d hate to think they’re dealin’ with the same sort of thing back in Ponyville!”

“Oh dear, that would be awful!” cried Fluttershy. “Ponyville wouldn’t really fall into a riot, would it? Do you think the mayor would be able to handle it all on her own, without us there? Oh dear, my little animal friends are probably so scared and confused right now, and I’m not there to help them!”

“The Princess is aware of the growing situation,” said their escort. “She’s already taken steps to ensure that chaos does not break out in the streets of Canterlot during this crisis. Even now, we have squads of royal guards patrolling the city, encouraging ponies to remain indoors until the crisis has passed.”

“Canterlot, Shmanterlot!” huffed Rainbow. “What about Manehatten, Fillydelphia, or Las Pegasus? I’m sure Cloudsdale’s getting hit pretty hard, too! This problem is happening everywhere! For that matter, what about the Crystal Empire? How is the crisis being handled there? What about the rest of Equestria?”

“Rainbow, I’m sure the Princess is doing all she can!” Twilight broke in.

“Indeed she is,” said the guard, “all that is in her power to ensure that her subjects are safe.”

Pinkie Pie shook her head. “Daymare Sun sounds like a pretty goofy name for a villain anyway. I’m sure Princess Celestia would have come up with something much cooler-sounding.”

The ponies groaned inwardly, yet couldn’t help feeling unsettled by the image that name evoked. Nopony had anything to say regarding Pinkie Pie’s statement, and they continued across the castle grounds in determined silence.

“The Princess is waiting for you in the lower chambers of the castle,” said the guard, resonantly. “When we have arrived, she shall explain what has transpired since you last received word from her. Quickly now! We must make haste!”

They flew over the lawn and charged up to the front entrance of the castle. Two guards stepped aside, allowing them passage to the castle interior.

Twilight’s heart beat like a hummingbird in her chest as she and her friends crossed the threshold of Canterlot Castle. Resplendent tapestries hung from the ceiling in rich hues of purple and gold. Above and ahead, a great marble statue of a graceful alicorn bade them welcome. Despite the serious nature of their errand, Twilight shivered in excitement. Any time she and her friends had come to the castle together, they had not left it as the same ponies.

Their escort gestured to a hallway at the far end of the room. “Down this way,” he said as he led onward.

The ponies followed behind at a swift pace. They rushed down a series of interconnected hallways, down stone stairways and grimly-lit passages. The guard did not slow his pace, only looking over his shoulder once or twice to ensure that the still six ponies still followed him.

None of the ponies had trouble keeping up, but keeping their bearings was another thing entirely. They had only been to Canterlot Castle a few times before, but they’d never needed to navigate the maze of corridors making up the inner-workings of the castle. The castle’s upper floors were filled with splendid, open halls and bright, stately rooms, but below, the castle took on a new face. The spark of warmth and excitement which Twilight had felt began to fade away, rapidly replaced by pressing anxiety and even a slight chill. She had been to the castle more times than she could count, yet she had never seen this side of it.

As they delved deeper into the bowels of Canterlot, the six friends took turns privately wishing that they were somewhere more pleasant. The walls loomed over them with grey and heavy stone. Sunlight peeked out weakly through small and sparse windows, which explained the surprising number of lit torches. Dim corridors leapt into existence out of the gloom on either side, each one seeming to lead on to much gloomier places. As they rounded a corner, Rarity spluttered as her face met a strategically placed cobweb.

“Ugh! This place could use a good dusting, not to mention a scrub and a polish!” she grumbled. There were several other things the place could have used, but the list piled up too fast for her to keep track of.

The guard halted suddenly at the head of a dim passageway lined with dark alcoves and stone statues. “Here,” he said, “the Princess is at the far end of this hall.”

He directed the ponies’ attention down the hallway where a small group of castle guards were huddled. Princess Celestia could be seen standing in the midst of them, looking intently at one particular statue. The six ponies were led to the end of the hall and brought directly before the Princess.

“Your highness,” announced the guard, bowing low before the regal alicorn, “the Elements of Harmony have arrived.”

Twilight halted upon seeing her mentor. Never had her ears drooped so quickly. Princess Celestia appeared worn and frail, like a bedsheet that had been washed too many times. Her once-glittering mane was frazzled and unkempt, and her eyes carried pale rings beneath them. It appeared that she may not have slept in days, though not even half a day had passed since the crisis had erupted.

When she saw the six ponies approaching her, a faint spark glinted in her eye. “Thank you, Stormwing,” replied Celestia with a gentle nod. The guard saluted and turned to rejoin his fellows beside the statue.

Princess Celestia then turned and smiled at the element-bearers. “And thank you all for coming so swiftly and on such short notice. I understand that it was not my most reasonable or convenient request. Unfortunately Equestria doesn’t schedule it’s calamities for our convenience.”

“But that’s why we need you, Princess!” said Twilight. She bowed low and her friends followed in kind.

Celestia smiled, and a slight glitter returned to her mane. “Yes, of course, but where would Equestria be without you six and the magic you carry within you? I’m not much more than a figurehead when it comes to crises such as these.”

“Oh no, Princess, you’re much more—”

“I’m not belittling my role as ruler,” added Celestia with a sly grin, “but there are limits to my powers, or at least roadblocks which hinder them, and our time scale does not allow room for any hinderance.” She gazed up to the black stone statue before them. “That is why I requested you come with such haste.” She slid her hoof up to the dark statue and sighed heavily.

Twilight and her friends paused to observe the statue for the first time, then collectively shuddered when they realized whose figure was depicted in the ebon stone.

Spike tugged Twilight’s mane. “Nightmare Moon!” he whispered behind his claw.

“Yes, I noticed, Spike!” Twilight whispered back. She continued to stare into the jet-black eyes of the sinister statue of Nightmare Moon. It’s bat-like wings gaped openly at her, drawing her nearer. A creeping sense of dread overcame her the longer she stared at it. It didn’t seem like there was a statue there at all. It felt more like a void, a dark hole in the wall that sucked all light into it. Why would Celestia want to keep such a horrible thing around?

“Your highness, I don’t understand why we‘re here,” she said at length. “For that matter, I don’t quite know what ‘here’ even is. In all my years as your student, all the places you’ve shown me during my studies in the castle, you’ve never brought me here before.”

“There was no need for you to see this place,” replied the Princess solemnly. “It is an old and bleak hall, filled with older and bleaker memories. Most of these memories are better left to fall to dust. Even I hardly ever come here anymore.”

Twilight surveyed the haunting statues that filled the alcoves down the length of the hallway. She could name nearly all the creatures that were depicted there as years’ worth of history lectures came flooding into her memory. She began to understand a little.

“Yes, I….think I may have read about this place before. One of my books on the castle’s history, maybe—Canterlot Castle’s Hidden Halls, or something like that.”

“Mighty odd topic for a book,” mumbled Applejack.

Twilight scratched her head, searching her memory for a name. “I think this could be….is this The Hall of Infamy?”

The Princess nodded.

Twilight gasped while she mentally catalogued all the figures of ancient calamity.

“Amazing…” she muttered in hushed awe. “There are villains, traitors, and tyrants here from nearly every pre-classical era, even as far back as the Fourth Dawn! But, your highness, wasn’t that when—”

“When I began my reign as Princess of Equestria? Indeed, it was!”

Twilight marveled at the sight of all the ancient foes of Equestria standing before her in their timeless parade. She remembered vividly all those passages she’d read over and over again from her history books because she thought they made good spooky stories. Now, to see all those vicious names come to their true light, standing in this terrible hall, very real and very tangible, it was almost too much for her to handle. She shivered, suddenly feeling very small and alone.

The Princess put a reassuring wing over her.

“There was no need for you to come here, at least not until now.” Celestia touched her tall horn to Twilight’s smaller horn. The two horns glowed briefly, and some of the darkness of the hall faded away. Twilight heaved a great sigh as though a weight had just been removed from her chest.

“So,” Rainbow chimed in, feeling that talking would disperse her own unease. “Is this place like your trophy room or something? All these statues of bad guys you and Luna beat down?”

“These are reminders,” said Celestia, waving her hoof around the hall. “Reminders of dark times and black hearts. True, these statues represent the victories that I have shared with my sister in protecting our fair land from evil, but they also represent a promise to never again let such evil return. Sometimes the past has ways of slipping through that frail barrier we call ‘years,’ especially if we allow ourselves to forget that it ever existed.”

The hallway suddenly became very still, as if time itself was holding its breath in the wake of the Princess’ statement.

“But, not all these are shared victories…” Twilight whispered softly, breaking the stillness.

“Indeed,” Celestia said sadly. “My sis—Nightmare Moon was the last to be placed in this hall. It was I alone who put her there, with my own hooves. There have been no more since.”

“But what about Chrysalis and Sombra?” asked Spike and Rainbow simultaneously.

Celestia smiled. “Those were your victories, your hard-fought battles. They bring light and hope for a brighter future, and have no place down here. This place, where only grim reminders of darker days dwell.” Her face fell as she spoke, like the weight of the earth were dragging it down.

“But, we are not here to brood on such things!” she announced at once, suddenly striking a commanding tone. “The past can linger at the back of our minds. Right now, the present demands our attention. I brought you all here so that you might help me get to the bottom of this mystery of why I can no longer control the sun, as well as investigate the sudden disappearance of my sister. And I believe that we have found the first clue to our mystery right here.”

She looked up once more to the statue of Nightmare Moon, and the other ponies looked on as well with somewhat less fear than before.

Twilight nodded and stroked a pensive hoof beneath her chin. The suspicions she had been brewing in her mind began to form a more complete picture. “I felt there might be something more to these statues than dusty heads and pointy teeth,” she said. “It seems odd to have this part of the castle so isolated from everything else, especially if it contains anything that was meant to be displayed.”

“Oh, these were never meant to be displayed, quite the opposite, actually!” chuckled Celestia. “But you are on the right track with your theories. These statues have served another, more critical purpose than simply gathering grey dust and grim memories.”

“What purpose is that?”

“Protection,” said the Princess simply.

Twilight cocked her head to one side, the ghost of another question forming on her tongue. She turned to her friends, who merely shrugged in response, being equally perplexed. “Umm, what kind of protection is that exactly?” ventured Twilight curiously. “What's it protecting?”

The Princess inclined her head, gazing at the base of the statue with furrowed brow as though a piece of the puzzle had fallen into a disturbing place.

“There are few that know how to bypass these measures.”

“But wha—” Twilight started.

The Princess held up a silencing hoof. “What it is meant to guard, I will not say here, for it seems that the protection has been compromised.” She turned and eyed her guards with a gentle stare.

The cluster of guards surrounding the Princess murmured amongst themselves, then took the cue to excuse themselves from the hall.

“We shall stand guard outside,” announced one of the armored stallions. The guards then left the hall without another word. Their hooves shuffled silently over the tattered carpet as they filed out while the vulgar and sinister statues grinned over them.

The eight remaining occupants stood in dead silence for several seconds once the guards had left. With the guards all gone, the hall felt bleak and hollow. The statues once again loomed out of their alcoves, draining light from the hall and filling the emptiness left by the guards’ departure with their own maleficence.

“Did they have to leave us alone in this dreadful chamber?” shuddered Rarity, wrapping her forehooves around her shoulders. “It’s such a filthy place; smudged windows, threadbare carpet, dust everywhere. Not even a month of soaking would get the stains out of that carpet,” she chided disdainfully. “And I’ve had just about enough of these silly statues, too. I feel at any moment one of those ghastly, vile things will leap out and scare the living daylights out of me, though they’ve already done a pretty good job of that!”

“I’ll hold your hoof, if that’d make you feel better, Rarity,” said Spike, boldly puffing out his little chest.

Rarity accepted Spike’s claw graciously. “Ah Spike, ever the gentleman!” she sighed. This sparked a few chuckles from the group, but their ease was short-lived.

A deathly chill bit the air, a dreadful iciness that seemed to ooze from the shadowy statues themselves. They could all think of winters that had been cozier. Goosebumps prickled all over their bodies, making their fur stand upright.

“Ooooh….” Fluttershy whimpered weakly, ducking behind her tail. “W-why does it f-feel like s-somepony is w-watching us?”

The Princess smiled reassuringly upon her subjects. Suddenly her horn began to glow with a blinding golden light which forced Twilight and her friends to look away. As the light blazed around them, they noticed a strange change setting in. They became suddenly filled with a tickling warmth from within, as though they were being filled with warm cinnamon apple cider. All their dread seemed washed away in the warmth. The change was stark, yet wholly welcome, as though they were all waking from a bad dream.

Then a change became apparent in the hallway itself. The brooding gloom vanished before their eyes. The ragged scarlet carpet was made whole and rich beneath their hooves, and the windows all shone with cheerful sunlight. The statues changed too, their vicious claws and fangs withdrawn, and their faces no longer snarling or sneering.

The light from the Princess’ spell began to settle, retracting in a gradual sweeping wave of gold, washing down the length of the hall. Even as the light diminished, the warmth each pony felt remained inside, leaving no room for sorrow or fear to dwell.

None of the ponies could explain exactly what had happened to the hallway, only that it was more than just swept floors or polished windows. It was as though a sheet had been over the place the whole time which had only given a vague outline of what lay beneath it. Now the sheet had been lifted to reveal a bright, golden hall, with shafts of sunlight trailing down, and lined with silently towering statues. Every feature of the hall was pronounced by light, and seemed to shimmer with a glow all its own. Even the tiniest carved features embroidering the the statue bases carried a faint glint.

Twilight stared upon them, no longer trembling in their presence. The statues still bore imposing figures, but their evil seemed abated somehow—contained even. They appeared to be no more threatening than ordinary stone statues.

“This is the Hall of Reflection,” said the Princess solemnly.

The ponies all turned and saw that Princess Celestia’s face was pure and bright, and her polychromatic mane glittered and sparkled.

“The Hall of Infamy, which you recently had the displeasure to witness, is the opposite of this Hall. You have now seen both sides, both light and dark. This is the true face of the Hall, how it was meant to be since Canterlot Castle was built, nearly a thousand years ago. As you can plainly see, this side of the Hall is much more pleasant.”

The ponies gazed around the new hall, gaping at the astounding transformation. Applejack removed her hat in reverent awe. They could hardly believe that this was the same evil hall they had first entered.

“The Hall of Reflection,” echoed Twilight softly. “All the statues are the same; they’re the same villains. This is the same carpet beneath our hooves, those are the same windows above the alcoves. Everything is the same, and yet everything is different, and yet, somehow—”

“They’re super shiny and sparkly now, like buttered-up balloons basking in a bakery display!” blurted Pinkie.

The Princess smiled and laughed. “I suppose you could see it like that; it’s been ‘polished up’ with a bit of magic.”

“Of course!” exclaimed Rarity. “That would explain why these statues were so much more dreadful a moment ago! And now, well, just look at this place! The new velvet carpet with gold trim, the polished windows and marble colonnades…” she put a hoof to her mouth. “My word, you majesty, why don’t you just keep it this way all the time?”

“This hall reminds us of many things,” replied Celestia, “not only of what our enemies are capable of, but that they were not always our enemies. Some, like Nightmare Moon, were poisoned by the hatred in their hearts and their lust for power. Believe it or not, many of these villains started out as innocent as my sister.” She drew a sharp breath as bitter memories struck her heart.

Twilight and her friends stepped to Celestia’s side, hoping there was something they could do to help. The princess smiled, wiping a single tear from her eye. She inclined her horn to the statue of Nightmare Moon.

“There is one more bit of magical clean-up I must show you.”

Her horn glowed brightly, sending a dazzling golden spark to the tip of Nightmare Moon’s black horn. The entire statue rumbled and shuddered like it was fighting the push of Celestia’s magic. After a moment it seemed to give in, and the statue slid backwards into the alcove, revealing a dark passageway in the floor.

Spike released Rarity’s hoof and ducked behind Twilight’s tail, shivering. “Uh, w-what’s down there?” he stuttered. “Don’t want to sound like a buzzkill here, but I’ve had enough of creepy, dark passageways.”

“What lies below has not been witnessed by anypony for many hundreds of years,” said the princess. “It has lain dormant these many years, an ancient threat concealed and contained—until today.” The Princess moved to the passageway and beckoned the ponies to follow. “Follow me,” she said softly. “The answers we seek are certainly below us.”

The ponies hesitated only for only a brief moment as the words “ancient threat” bore heavily into their imaginations. They looked back upon the former Hall of Infamy, the cheerful light spilling down from the windows. The light was like a breath of fresh air compared to the gloomy darkness that had once haunted the hallway. They stood looking down into the passageway in the floor. Its cold blackness reached out, carrying with it the stale air of dusty, ancient chambers that hadn’t seen light since ages long past.

“Lead on, Princess!” said Applejack boldly. “We didn’t come this far to tuck our tails ‘tween our legs! If Equestria is in trouble, then we’re the ponies for the job!”

“I’m with Applejack,” added Rainbow. “We came here because Equestria needs us, and we’re not gonna stay sun-soaked on my watch!”

The friends all nodded unanimously in agreement.

The princess nodded. “In that case, follow me.”

Chapter 5

okay so I know I have not updated this in a while. But I have news. IT'S NOT DEAD!!!
I have been having problems financially and in general but as of 3 days ago that will all be over. I have just passed my test and got my CDL drivers license and was hired by CREngland. After training I will apparently make from $700 to $1500 a week depending on my miles i drive. Now i will be driving about 10 hours a day and will be tired but I will have to wait at least 10 more hours till I can drive again so I will get some sleep and have nothing else to do but be online as my truck has WiFi so yay for that.

All that said over the next week or so I will re read to catch back up what I have and try to get in contact with sonic. (Should not be hard as if he gets online he will see this and I plan to text him) so I hope by the end of the month I will have posted the next chapter possibly even 2. If I remember correctly me and sonic have written 3 full chapters and had another 1 or 2 started. So if any of you have any questions please message me and I will do my best to answer also I have not talked to my grammar Nazi in over a year and so I am in need of a new one. We use Google docs so if interested please message me and include your gmail