The Tutelage of Star Swirl

Chapters

Arrival at Canterlot Palace
Princess Celestia
Thirty-Three Blackwood Road
Whither's Hollow
The Jackals of Tartarus
The Celestial Tether
Monsters on the Green
The Riverside
Letters and Night Terrors
Return to Canterlot Palace
Lily
King Klav-Mar
Power and Purpose
Star Swirl the Bearded
Epilogue

Arrival at Canterlot Palace

The night was cold and starless. Black clouds boiled in the sky, white flashes of lightning lit the empty streets of Canterlot, filling every corner of every alley. Young fillies and colts pulled their covers up tight over their heads as thunderclaps shook them to their bones. The normally white, gleaming towers of the palace were now shrouded in shadow, as if every window of every high room had a secret. There was no rain yet, but all a pony had to do was sniff the air to know that the clouds above were full to bursting, and wouldn’t hold for long.

In an ordinary house on an ordinary street, a tiny little yellow filly was wide awake, shivering in her bed. Every shadow in her room was the entrance to a timber wolf cave. Every thunderclap was the footstep of a dragon. She shuddered silently, too young to go back to sleep, but too old to call out to her parents.

She looked out the window – a lightning bolt flashed, BOOM, and for an instant the street outside was gorged with light. She jumped; she had seen something out in the street. Somepony. She peered into the darkness again. A flash, BOOM – yes, somepony was walking up the street, the full terror of the night storm bearing down on him. It was the figure of a young unicorn, a pony that seemed to trail shadows behind him, as if he wore a great cloak. He proceeded up the street as if there were no storm, as if the shadows were not about to pounce on him, not about to swallow him up forever.

But they are, thought the little yellow filly. I just know it, something’s going to gobble him up, something’s going to get him. Why doesn’t he go back? Why doesn’t he go home?

It was too much for the little filly. She dove back into the safety of her blankets. There she lay, quaking under the sheets, as the figure of a colt made its way surely and steadily up to the gates of Canterlot Palace.

Princess Luna was at her post as the young colt was escorted into the palace by the guards. She stood on the balcony of her bed chamber, up in one of the high towers of Canterlot Palace, staring up into the inky sky, her starry mane whipping around her in the wind. As hard as she tried, she could not break through the clouds with the brightness of the moon. It was full that night, but no one in Canterlot would see its silvery glory.

Not that they ever do, thought Luna. They sleep as I work. I play my part for the benefit of an empty theatre.

Luna sighed and closed her eyes, the wind a cool comfort on her face. Canterlot was overdue for rain, so the pegasi had set up a storm for that night. But the rain was late, and the night was oh so much darker than Luna or anyone else had expected. But still she stood there, on her balcony in the sky, hoping that the world would have a chance for moonlight before the dawn broke.

The sound of a hoof knocking on the door in her chamber released Luna from her trance.

“Come in.”

The door opened, spilling yellow lamplight from the hall into the otherwise dark room. A royal guard stood in the doorway.

“Princess Luna. Your guest has arrived.”

Luna turned her head. “So early? Very good. Please escort him to the library. I shall be there presently.”

“My lady.”

The door closed. Princess Luna took in one last breath of the tumultuous night air and smiled. With the sureness and grace that can only come from a princess, Luna came out of the storm and descended from her tower to greet her guest.

Down in the Canterlot Library, in an ornate wooden chair at an ornate wooden table surrounded by shelves of books, a young unicorn was waiting patiently for his new life to begin.

He gazed around at the countless tomes towering over him, his coat of gray fur shining dully in the lamplight. He was a pony of moderate size, no longer a child by any means, but not quite yet adult. His blue cloak trailed on the floor behind his chair. He sniffed the air – it was a good smell. The smell of old learning.

A door opened behind him. Star Swirl stood up and turned, to see Princess Luna standing in the doorway, gazing coolly at the gray pony.

“We were expecting you in the morning, Star Swirl,” she said. “You’ve taken us by surprise.”

Star Swirl returned the gaze with his own dark eyes. “If you thought I’d be a nuisance, you shouldn’t have invited me.”

They looked at each other for a moment longer, but it was far too difficult for either of them to keep a straight face. Both of their stern frowns blossomed into wide grins, and they threw themselves at each other, laughing and embracing.

“Princess Luna, it’s a joy to see you again!”

“Oh, Star Swirl! It’s been far too long! How long has it been? Months! Months at least!” Princess Luna removed herself from Star Swirl’s embrace. “You must tell me everything. Your position at Mossenbock’s Antique Shop, did they understand?”

“Oh, yes. Mr. and Mrs. Mossenbock have always been fascinated by my studies. In a way, I suspect they feel that they’ve contributed to my education by letting me go.”

“And that they have.” Luna glanced around. “Did you pack nothing?”

“I sent it all ahead of me last week.”

“Oh, yes, yes, of course you did! Oh, my faithful student, I am so excited for you!” Luna’s eyes flashed – an idea. “Ah, Star Swirl, I’d forgotten! You have not seen your wing yet, have you?”

“My wing? You mean, this is the very library?”

“Of course it is! Follow me.”

Luna magically lifted a lamp off the wall and led the way through a maze of tall, dusty shelves, until they had reached a locked, barred door. Luna opened it and ushered Star Swirl inside the near pitch-black room. With a flick of her horn, suddenly the room was ablaze with candles and lanterns. Star Swirl’s jaw dropped.

The wing was magnificent. All of his works – all of his essays for Princess Luna, all of his recreational spells and scrolls, all of his finest prodigious tomes – were neatly stacked on a series of shelves which exploded outward from the center of the circular room, like the radiating arms of a star. In a daze, Star Swirl walked among the shelves, reading the titles of his volumes. Princess Luna followed, smiling behind him.

Star Swirl magically lifted a tome from one of the top shelves and leafed through it. “This is remarkable, Princess. I can hardly believe that I’ve written all this.”

“Well, after ten years of tutelage under me, I should hope that the results would be extraordinary.”

Star Swirl laughed and re-shelved the book. Luna let her eyes roam over the walls and shelves of the wing. “But I must tell you,” she said, “to see it all before me now, to see how your work has accumulated… I can hardly believe it myself. You may not feel it, Star Swirl, but you are still very young. And already, you have wrought such wonders, such things that most unicorns never accomplish in a lifetime. Tomorrow, when you finally begin your training with Princess Celestia, please remember how much more life you have ahead of you. This may be only your first of many wings in the Royal Canterlot Library.”

Star Swirl turned and looked up at Luna, the lights of the candles and the lanterns dancing in his eyes. “Thank you, Princess Luna.”

“You are more than welcome, my faithful student. Come, it’s late. Let me show you to your room.”

Luna led the way out of the library, up one of the great spiral staircases of the towers. She spoke as they climbed. “Tomorrow morning, your first lesson with my sister is to begin just after breakfast. A meal will be brought to you in your room, and a guard will escort you downstairs. Princess Celestia will be waiting for you in the throne room.”

“Will I see you there?”

“I’d be happy to be there for your first lesson, Star Swirl. But know that I won’t always be there – the day is my time to rest from my duties of the night. Ah, here is your room.”

They had reached the top of the staircase, and were faced with a large, dark wooden door, exquisitely decorated with all manner of black iron rivets and plates. Luna opened the door, revealing a magnificent circular chamber in the light of her lantern, with a bed tucked up against the far wall and a pair of tall glass doors leading to a small balcony. Star Swirl galloped inside and looked around, like a child in a candy shop. There were shelves of books here, too, and a table equipped with ink and quills and empty scrolls, and a crystal ball on a stand in the corner, and all the things an aspiring unicorn could possibly need. He took a deep breath of the old air of the palace towers. He whirled back around to face Princess Luna.

“This is it, Princess!” he cried. “I just know it – this is the place. This is where I solve the Puzzle, where I answer the Question. I don’t know what it is about this place, but being here, breathing the air… I’m sure that it’s going to happen!”

“As am I,” said Luna. “I never doubted that you would. Good night, Star Swirl. Have a good rest.”

“Thank you, Princess. Goodnight.”

And Princess Luna left, closing the door behind her. As she made the descent back down to the halls of Canterlot Palace, she could hardly contain her joy. What a sight, to see Star Swirl so happy! He was usually such a thoughtful pony. Of course, he was always as kind as the night is long, but to see him genuinely excited…

Luna smiled to herself as she made the trip back up to the balcony of her bed chamber.

Up above her in the towers, Star Swirl threw off his blue cloak and climbed into bed. Outside, the air grew denser – and the bellies of the great black rainclouds hanging above Canterlot finally burst, spilling streams and rivers down into the city gutters, the sidewalks, the streets. The lightning crackled and the sky lit with heavenly fire.

With the rumbling of heavy rain drumming on the windows and the roof, Star Swirl drifted off to sleep, out of his chamber, out of Canterlot Palace, and into the wild jungles and busy streets of a beautiful and powerful imagination.

Author's Note

Hello there, friends. Sorry about this, I'll try to keep Author's Notes to a minimum. Just wanted to apologize for a relatively short first chapter. As chapters go on, hopefully I'll hit a comfortable stride. Thanks!

Princess Celestia

“The throne room, sir. Princess Celestia is waiting.”

Star Swirl could hardly keep his knees from buckling. A tall white royal guard had taken him from his chamber to the enormous double-doors of the throne room. And now the guard stood aside, waiting for Star Swirl to push open the doors, waiting for him to begin his magical studies with the most powerful creature in Equestria. Now that he was there, one door away from the princess, his joy had frozen over, eclipsed by great cold clouds. Anxiety. Doubt. Star Swirl fiddled with the neck of his plain blue cloak and swallowed.

“Thank you,” said Star Swirl. He closed his eyes, he steeled himself – and he pushed open the doors.

The throne room was just as enormous as the doors had promised. The long hall was lined with golden-ivory pillars, and the soft glow of morning sunlight lit the windows. A long red carpet led up to a golden throne. Beside that throne stood Princess Luna, her deep ocean-blue brilliance a strange sight in the white, shining hall. And on that throne sat a tall white Alicorn, with a mane like light passing through morning mist, wearing a golden, jewel encrusted crown. Princess Celestia.

The doors shut behind Star Swirl with a deep gong.

Princess Celestia smiled and descended from her throne, meeting Star Swirl on the red carpet. Her eyes gleamed.

“Star Swirl,” she said, her voice a breeze on a meadow. “How wonderful it is to finally meet you.”

Star Swirl deeply bowed his head. “Princess Celestia,” he said, quite pleased that his voice didn’t break. “It is an honor.”

“None of that, now,” said the princess. Star Swirl looked up. “While you learn from me, I cannot be your princess. I can only be your teacher; no need for the bowing and the formalities. How does that sound?”

The face of Princess Celestia was so pleasant, so inviting, that Star Swirl felt all his stress and bottled emotion begin to evaporate. He gave a bark of nervous laughter, and the tension was broken. Star Swirl’s entire body relaxed. “That sounds just fine, Princess.”

“I have heard so much of you from my sister,” said Princess Celestia. “And I’ve read most of your magical theory work – I hope you don’t mind. You are fiercely intelligent, Star Swirl. But there is more to it than that. You are clever. Some of our greatest court unicorns would be hard pressed to duplicate any of your work.”

Star Swirl could feel his face beginning to glow. The princess seemed to sense it, too, and quickly continued.

“It is a good thing, then, that you will not be learning magical theory while I tutor you. Quite frankly, you already know as much as my sister. There is very little left in the world of magical essays and books which you do not know.”

Hearing this, Star Swirl felt a peculiar sensation. As if his stomach was slowly sinking into his hooves. “No more theory, Princess?” he said. “Forgive me, but what is it that I will be studying?”

“It is time,” said the Princess, “for you to master the most powerful magical force in Equestria – the magic of Friendship.”

This took a moment to sink in.

There was a short silence, during which Princess Celestia was evidently expecting some sort of excited exclamation from Star Swirl. Instead, he merely felt that his stomach had reached the floor, and his intestines were sliding down fast behind in pursuit.

“The magic of… Friendship, Princess?”

“That is correct. Are you all right, Star Swirl?”

“Are you sure you don’t mean the magic of Advanced Conjuration?” asked Star Swirl. “Not the examination of the remaining Inexplicable Distortion Scrolls? I’ve barely scratched the surface on the implications of the Gullfaxi Fossils!”

The princess appeared to have been frozen by these words. But only for a fraction of a fraction of a second. “No, Star Swirl. Far greater than any of those is the magic of Friendship. I can see why you are concerned – I imagine that this is the last thing that you expected. But if you want to learn anything at all from me, you must learn to trust me.”

Celestia did her best to smile warmly, to give off an aura of reassurance. For a moment, Star Swirl could only look down at his hooves. Finally he looked up – and Celestia’s heart skipped a beat. It was only for an instant, but she had seen a most peculiar look on Star Swirl’s face. It was not a look of anger or rebellion, or any sort of childish indignation. It was a chillingly adult look of frank, naked appraisal. Princess Celestia felt the cold eyes of judgment upon her.

And then it was gone, in the same instant it had arrived, replaced by the face of a respectful young unicorn. “I trust you, Princess.”

“Thank you,” said Princess Celestia, still the smallest bit shaken. “This brings us to another matter. My sister has told me that you arrived late last night, and have taken up residence in one of the Western Towers.”

“Yes, Princess,” said Star Swirl. “I felt the need to settle in before our lessons began today.”

Princess Celestia smiled a gentle, apologetic smile. “I’m afraid, Star Swirl, that there has been a miscommunication. You will not be staying in Canterlot Palace for the duration of your studies.”

Star Swirl felt positively hollow. “But,” he said, “I am to be under your tutelage, correct?”

“Yes,” said Princess Celestia. “In a way.”

Princess Luna stepped forward from beside the throne. “I’m so sorry, Star Swirl,” she said, evident concern on her face. “Like you, I thought my sister intended for you to take up residence in the palace, and train here. She did not tell me the full extent of her plans. I am so sorry, my student.”

Star Swirl did his best to contain himself, truly he did. But even he, with his great self-control and discipline, could not keep his nostrils from flaring as he spoke. “Princess Celestia,” he said, “what exactly are your plans?”

“I will be sending you abroad for your studies, Star Swirl,” said the Princess. “Specifically, to the town of Whither’s Hollow. It lies some sixty miles north of Canterlot. While you live there, I will expect you to – ”

“Excuse me. Princess Celestia.”

Princess Celestia blinked. “Yes, my student?”

“Why,” said Star Swirl, trying his utmost to keep his voice level, “was I summoned to Canterlot Palace at all?”

Celestia frowned; a sight that chills all but the bravest ponies. “Because I cared to meet you," she said. "I thought that it would please you to spend a day in this splendid city before I sent you on your journey. Evidently, I was mistaken. It seems there is very little that can please you.”

There was a frosty silence. Star Swirl took to re-examining his hooves. He silently cursed himself for allowing his emotions to darken what should have been a glorious day.

He finally looked up at the princess. And then he deeply bowed his head again. “Princess Celestia,” he said, “I have offended you with my arrogance and selfishness. I humbly ask for your forgiveness.”

The princess sighed. She knelt down in front of Star Swirl, and with one hoof, she lifted the chin of his bowed head. The two stared at one another, and a blank look crept over Star Swirl’s eyes. Princess Celestia smiled again, warm and reassuring.

“Oh, Star Swirl,” she said. “There is nothing to forgive. Just know, everything I do, I do because Princess Luna and I see so much potential in you. We wish only the best for you. I would never dream of sending you away to a strange new place unless I was certain you would gain much more than you would lose. I see that our discussion has blindsided you. I am sorry. Is there any chance that we can still be friends?”

Star Swirl gazed at the princess. His eyes were those of a doll, of a phantom, watching the scene from a world away. “Yes, Princess Celestia,” he intoned. “Of course.”

The princess’s smile widened, and she stood up. “There. You see how easy it is, to make a friend? All it takes is a bit of understanding. That, Star Swirl, is the task which I assign to you during your stay in Whither’s Hollow. Make some friends. If you do, you may find that you will learn as much about yourself as you do about them.”

Star Swirl nodded, a solemn gesture. “It will be done, Princess.”

“I will send you further instructions upon your arrival in Whither’s Hollow. I have arranged for a carriage to take you at noon tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Princess.”

“Would you like any assistance packing?”

“No, thank you. I never unpacked.”

“Ah. I shall send up servants tomorrow morning to bring your luggage down to the carriage.”

“Thank you, Princess.”

“Very good. Well, Star Swirl. That is the end of our first lesson. The rest of the day is yours. I’d recommend that you visit the Canterlot Playhouse, down on Trottling Way. I hear that they mount the most wonderful productions.”

“Thank you, Princess.”

“You are dismissed.”

His head held high and his eyes set firmly in front of him, Star Swirl turned, walked up the long red carpet, past the golden-ivory pillars, pushed open the enormous doors, and left, leaving Princess Celestia gazing thoughtfully after him.

As the doors gonged shut behind him, Star Swirl’s lip curved into a snarl, and his pace quickened. He set his course for his bed chamber in the western tower. His cloak flapped behind him as if he were trailing the North Wind itself.

What a miserable disaster.

The fact that he had lost control of himself, even for the briefest of moments, that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst of it was Princess Celestia.

And what exactly did I expect of the most powerful magical creature in Equestria? thought Star Swirl, as he began making his way up the winding stairs. Nothing. I had no expectations. Princess Luna seldom spoke of her sister; I was capable of nothing but speculation. I knew walking into the throne room that anything could happen. Isn’t that one of the fundamental principles of Magic? Anything can happen. So why do I find myself so distraught, so angry, when I have no right to be?

Because Princess Luna understood.

Yes, that was true. Luna had seen something in Star Swirl, at the tender age of seven, and had begun training him for a great career in magic. There had been a connection there, and it remained, ten years later. She had seen more in him then a talent for spellcasting. She had understood something.

When Star Swirl was just a tiny little colt, he had always been different from the other little ponies. At the end of each day, his mother would come to the schoolhouse to bring him home, and she would find him sitting alone, studying a sheet of mathematical equations, or losing himself in a mighty poem, while all of the other little colts and fillies went outside to play. His mother would hold him and snuggle him and ask, “Oh, my little pumpkin, why can’t you get along with the other ponies?”

The years went by. The mathematical equations and poems were replaced by tomes of magical theory, scrolls of spells, ancient inscriptions of wonders long past. And it seemed that always, at home or at the schoolhouse, in the market or in the square, Star Swirl’s mother would always have a question for him. “Oh, my little pumpkin, why can’t you get along with the other ponies?”

Soon Star Swirl was training with Princess Luna, and still the question came. Finally, after studying harder than any student can be expected to study, after watching the other ponies his age play out in the fields, race amid the apple orchards, and lie dreaming in the clouds, Star Swirl could not bear it any longer. He answered the question.

“Oh, my little pumpkin, why can’t you get along with the other ponies?” his mother asked.

Star Swirl looked up at his mother. It was a strange, chillingly adult look, a look Princess Celestia might have recognized.

“Because,” said Star Swirl, “I have passion where they have none.”

And he had flung himself into his room and slammed the door. And presently, he reached the top of the Western Tower, flung himself into the circular bed chamber and slammed the door. The stillness of the room was broken only by Star Swirl’s heavy breathing.

Friendship. Friendship, she said.

Oh, yes, Star Swirl had read all about the Elements of Harmony, and their astounding powers. He had studied the magic of Friendship as vigorously as he had studied anything else.

It was not his preferred flavor of magic.

Star Swirl let his eyes dance along the shelves, the crystal ball standing in the corner, the desk, the parchment, the quills waiting patiently beside the inkwell.

Last night, he had been so certain that this palace was the place. The place where he would solve the Puzzle, answer the Question. Was it the air? Was it a premonition? Had it been a passing daydream?

To solve the Problem – to find a Solution – that was all that was important.

His unpacked luggage sat silently beside the bed.

Star Swirl magically set the chair from the desk by the glass doors of the balcony. He took a seat, facing out over the streets and buildings of Canterlot. There he sat, and there he thought, and he would not move again until Princess Luna had reclaimed the sky.

As Star Swirl left the throne room, oddly stiff and stony faced, Luna felt her heart full to bursting for the young unicorn. As the doors gonged shut behind him, she advanced on Princess Celestia.

“Really, sister!” she said. “Did you see his face? Why did you never share your plans with me?”

Celestia turned to face her sister. “I did, Luna.”

“Of course you did. This morning over breakfast. Oh, Celestia, I ought to go after him, I should find out if he’s – ”

“Please don’t, Luna.”

“You would rather let him stew in his fears and trepidations until noon tomorrow? Honestly, Celestia!”

“Please listen. I know that you are close to Star Swirl. And the work you've drawn out of him is, quite simply, incredible. But he is my student now. He must learn that. If you rush off to comfort him when he is distressed, he will feel as if he is still under your wing. Please, sister – this is a new stage of life for Star Swirl. Let him go with dignity.”

Luna lifted her head high. “There’s no need to speak to me about dignity, Celestia. Very well, I will not see him today – but I cannot stop caring for him. Star Swirl has not seen the last of me.”

“That is fair.” Celestia walked back up to her throne and took a seat. “I don’t make these decisions lightly, Luna. I know that I may at times seem… secretive. But everything I do is with purpose.”

Luna approached the throne. “I do have a question for you, Celestia. Why Whither’s Hollow?”

“It is a good town, with good hearted ponies. It is a fine place for a young unicorn to make friends.”

“That’s not what I mean. Why not keep Star Swirl here, in Canterlot? Surely, there are more than enough colts and fillies here of Star Swirl’s age to make perfectly acceptable friends.”

“I had considered that, Luna. But Whither’s Hollow is the best option.”

Luna took a step forward. “Sister. If you do not want to seem secretive, then you must not keep secrets. There is something you aren’t telling me. Now – Why Whither’s Hollow?”

It was clear that Luna had planted her feet firmly, and would not budge. Celestia looked at her sister with a mild surprise, perhaps even a wisp of annoyance. After a moment, Celestia sighed.

"Fine, then," said Celestia. “I shall tell you.” She stood from her throne and walked over to one of the great windows. Luna followed.

“Several months ago,” said Celestia, “I began hearing strange word from abroad. Whispers from my allies across Equestria. Murmurs among the common ponies. Talk of strange things, strange shadows and shapes lurking in the night. Normally, I would dismiss these as rumors of rumors, fears without cause or substance. But they persisted, and the shadows began to solidify. I sent the Royal Guard and my closest followers out across the land to investigate, and when they returned to Canterlot, they all agreed on what it is that creeps in the dusk.” Celestia stepped closer to Luna and dropped her voice, as if the pillars might have been eavesdropping. “Luna. The Jackals are among us again.”

Luna stared at her sister. “The Jackals. The Jackals of Tartarus?”

“Yes. All sightings point to them.”

“But the Jackals have been in hiding for years,” said Luna. “It has been peace time since the Reign of Discord. Why would the Jackals emerge? What have they to fight for? Their King was slain. He had no heirs.”

“It seems to me that they have found a new King,” said Celestia. “Someone who is not content to sit idly by and watch ponies live happily, while Jackals scratch out a meager living in the darkest, dankest corners of the world.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“This matter might yet be settled quietly. I did not want to upset you. If we caused a stir over this, it might do Equestria more harm than good.”

“And what,” Luna said, her eyes narrowing, “does any of this have to do with Star Swirl?”

Celestia started pacing across the floor. “When I began to suspect that the Jackals were at large again, I was not foolish enough to do nothing. I took to action. I began sending out my court unicorns to cities and towns throughout Equestria. Powerful sorcerers, ponies that could keep the Jackals at bay if the need arises. But there are so few unicorns of that skill. All of my court unicorns have left Canterlot, spread out across Equestria, on alert. Spread thin. I do not have enough highly skilled unicorns, and my Royal Guards are no match for Jackals. Some places remain defenseless. Whither’s Hollow is one of those places.”

Luna’s eyes widened, her jaw dropped. “Are you telling me,” she breathed, “that you are using Star Swirl as a shield against the Jackals?”

“Try to understand, Luna!” Celestia stopped pacing. “From what you tell me, Star Swirl is as competent a spell-caster as he is a scholar. Whither’s Hollow is an isolated spot. The odds of an incident are next to nothing. The most important reason for his trip is still his education on the magic of Friendship. But I am covering all bases.”

“Star Swirl has hardly grown out of childhood,” Luna hissed. “Send me to Whither’s Hollow, let me be of assistance. I am not bound to Canterlot, I can raise the moon from wherever I go!”

“No! We can settle it quietly, Luna!” Celestia cried, her voice rising. “If either of us leave Canterlot Palace, if the ponies of Equestria begin to see a rustling behind the stage curtain – they will know something is wrong! There must not be panic! There must not be chaos!”

Celestia stood there, her chest heaving from her outburst. The two sisters locked eyes in the bright throne room. The air was still, and not the slightest sound disturbed it.

After a moment, and they both seemed the smallest bit calmer, Luna spoke. “If,” she said, “you send Star Swirl off into the jaws of an uncalculated danger, against his knowledge… Know that I will be watching over him. Intently. And if anything happens to him – if you put him in a peril which he cannot overcome – I will never forgive you.”

Celestia gazed out the window, out over the shining splendor of Canterlot. Her eyes sparkled, and she turned back to Luna. She nodded. “That is fair.”

The enormous throne room doors swung open. Celestia and Luna both started at the sudden disturbance. A Palace Guard stood in the doorway.

“My Princess Celestia,” said the guard. “Ambassador Dromedary awaits you in the royal study.”

Princess Celestia straightened her back and held her head high. “Thank you, Captain.” She turned to her sister. “You must excuse me, Luna. I have some documents to sign.”

With majesty and regality, Princess Celestia made her way to the open doors. Halfway across the hall, Celestia stopped. She turned back to her sister, who stood in the soft light of a tall window.

“You will not believe this, Luna,” she said, “but I have great faith in Star Swirl. Perhaps I even have as much faith in him as you do.”

And then she left, her mane trailing behind her like a cloud of colored glass. The doors gonged shut behind her, leaving Luna alone in the enormous hall, staring into space, weighing her emotions with a troubled heart.

Thirty-Three Blackwood Road

Star Swirl looked out the carriage window. The towns and farms and forests of Equestria drifted by below him. The silver carriage flew smoothly through the sky, the three pegasi drawing it with the skill and discipline of any Royal Guard. They really were quite high up, hurtling through wisps of cloud, not far from the glass ceiling of the heavens.

Star Swirl’s departure from Canterlot Palace had been a quiet affair. The carriage was waiting for Star Swirl in the courtyard, and both Princess Celestia and Luna had been there to see him off. Princess Celestia had given a few final words of instruction.

“When you arrive at Whither’s Hollow,” she said, “you will be shown to your cottage by a town representative. Tell him that arrangements have been made for you to stay at thirty-three Blackwood Road. And this, Star Swirl, is for you.” And the princess produced a strange candle, a deep, rich purple thing in a black holder. “I will expect you to report back to me on your progress. When you learn something of value on the nature of Friendship, write me a letter, and burn it with this. We call it a Dragon’s Tongue. When your letter burns, I shall receive it. Keep it burning always, as I will be writing to you as well – it will never go out.”

Star Swirl tucked the candle into the folds of his cloak. “Thank you, Princess.”

“And with that,” said Princess Celestia, “I will say goodbye. Have a pleasant journey. I shall be eagerly awaiting your reports. Good luck, my student.”

“Thank you, Princess. I will try my best.”

Princess Celestia turned to reenter the palace, her guards in tow. But Luna stayed where she was. Celestia paused, noticing, and turned back to her sister. The two shared a look. It seemed to Star Swirl that Princess Celestia was about to say something to Luna. But she did not. She seemed to think better of it. And so Princess Celestia vanished into the palace with the guards, leaving only Star Swirl, the pegasi, and Princess Luna in the courtyard.

Luna smiled and walked to Star Swirl. She put a hoof on his shoulder. “How are you?”

Star Swirl’s face of stone softened. “I’m well, I suppose.”

“I know how you feel about all this, Star Swirl,” said Luna. “I understand. But the truth is, the magic of Friendship is worth your time. Please do as Princess Celestia asks. I swear that it is for the best.”

Star Swirl sighed. “I will. I promise I will. But I wonder if… Do you know if there are any good book shops in Whither’s Hollow?”

Luna laughed. “Come here, my student.”

The two embraced.

They made their final farewells, and soon Star Swirl was riding high on the wind in that silver carriage, staring out the window at the passing countryside.

He reached into the folds of his cloak and brought out the Dragon’s Tongue. It was an odd little thing, the holder a cool, mysterious black metal, the candle itself an odd, rougher texture than traditional wax. Star Swirl toyed with the wick. He had thought at first glance that the wick was black, but now as he examined it, he saw that it was a very dark green.

He looked out the window once more. The towns were getting sparser as the trip wore on, and now they mostly flew over green fields and patches of forest. Star Swirl looked forward at the land to come – and received his first look at Whither’s Hollow.

Star Swirl knew right away that this must be the place. It was an isolated little town, bordered by a river on the south, south-eastern side, and the edge of a forest on the north-west. Star Swirl opened his window and stuck his head out into the buffeting winds.

“Excuse me,” he called out over the roar. “Is that over there Whither’s Hollow?”

The lead Pegasus called back. “Yes, sir. We’ll be arriving in less than ten minutes on Main Street.”

Star Swirl frowned. The last thing he wanted to do was make a grand entrance in a flying silver carriage. It would attract too much attention. Star Swirl had no intention at all of letting anyone in Whither’s Hollow know that he was a student of Princess Celestia. He never put himself on a pedestal – whenever ponies took interest in him for nothing but his magical skills, it turned out to be a bothersome distraction.

“Do you think you could set me down outside the town border?” Star Swirl called.

“Sir, we were told by Princess Celestia to – ”

“It won’t be a problem, I’m in constant communication with the princess. If anyone has to answer for slightly deviating from Princess Celestia’s instructions, it will be me.”

“… Very well, sir. We’ll begin our descent now.”

“Thank you.”

Star Swirl retreated back into the stillness of the cabin and shut the window. The carriage began making its gradual descent back down to Equestria.

The carriage landed about a half mile from the town, which suited Star Swirl just fine. The plain dirt road has surrounded on both sides by green, rolling hills, uninterrupted except for the glimmer of a river in the east, and the black mound of shadows and square structures which was Whither’s Hollow in the north. The pegasi had offered to help him with his things, but Star Swirl was more than capable of magically carrying three pieces of luggage filled with clothes and books. He thanked them and set out for the town line.

As the silver carriage flew off behind him into the darkening blue sky, Star Swirl started walking down the long dirt road. He began to assess his objective – to make friends.

It was true, Star Swirl had never had any close friends before. But he was not a fool. He was able to put on a pleasant and agreeable mask when the occasion called for it, he could make acceptable small talk, and not a single pony in Equestria hated him. Maybe that’s a sort of talent, thought Star Swirl, to be hated by no one. Surely I must be doing something correctly. Yes, I don’t think I should have much trouble with my assignment. A few polite conversations, a few letters to Princess Celestia naming my acquaintances and describing our common interests… and I will be finished.

But one thing did bother Star Swirl. He had the intellectual power to analyze the mechanics and motions of casual friendship, that much was certain. But whenever he had observed other ponies enjoying themselves with friends – genuinely having fun, letting down the mask and revealing a smile underneath – there was a certain something Star Swirl could not quite pinpoint. There was an openness – there was a certain foolish way of acting – which Star Swirl did not understand.

But I will be fine, he told himself. I’ve done this before. Not for extended periods, but still… I will be fine.

The sky above Star Swirl grew darker as the town before him grew larger. Twilight had come, and he had arrived.

He passed a wooden sign that read, “Welcome to Whither’s Hollow; Population: 1,214.” And as if Star Swirl’s presence had been magically announced as he passed the sign, he heard the thumping of hooves on the road, coming up to meet him. The light was dimming, but it was still light enough for Star Swirl to perfectly make out the pony coming toward him. It was a blue earth pony, a stallion of about his own age, the sort of tall, strapping pony that undoubtedly won all the mares.

Suddenly something squeezed in Star Swirl’s heart. This is it, he thought. My first impression, my first chance to make a friend. I can do this.

Star Swirl set his floating luggage down behind him as the blue stallion galloped up to meet him, a welcoming grin on his face. “Hi there!” said the stallion. “You must be Star Swirl. Welcome to Whither’s Hollow!”

Now’s my chance, thought Star Swirl. Now is the moment that I make my mark. This is when I demonstrate my wit and insight – but not in an overbearing way. I will smile, I will look this stallion in the eye, and I will say –

“Hello.”

Perfect.

The blue stallion saw the luggage resting on the ground. “Would you like some help carrying anything?” he asked.

A storm raged in Star Swirl’s mind for the next two seconds. Here was a delicate choice. On the one hoof, if he said no and kept on carrying the luggage himself, he might risk offending the stallion – but isn’t it a sign of consideration to not let others bear your burdens? And on the other hoof, if Star Swirl let this stallion take some luggage, it would at least placate him – yet he would be forcing a potential friend to carry his things for him, which seemed a rude thing to do. Not truly knowing what the best course of action would be, Star Swirl went with gut instinct.

“Sure, that would be great, thank you.”

The blue stallion took a wheeled case and lifted it upright. “Here we are,” he muttered, and started rolling the trunk toward town. Star Swirl magically lifted the other two and followed.

Star Swirl observed the blue pony for a moment as they walked. How interesting, he thought. This stallion doesn’t seem at all bothered, carrying some of my luggage. As a matter of fact, he seems largely cheerful. As if he enjoys it – as if he’s happy to help. I’ll take a note down later.

A thought struck Star Swirl – he had forgot to ask the stallion’s name. Foolish, downright foolish, he thought. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name, sir.”

The stallion laughed as the two started walking past the first buildings – old wooden places, but places that looked clean, colorful and strong. “That may be the first time I’ve been called ‘sir,’” the stallion said. “Emory is my name.”

“It’s good to meet you, Emory.”

“You too, Star Swirl. You can think of me as an extension of the Mayor’s office. She’s my grandmother, after all. I’ve lived in Whither’s Hollow all my life, you see, and my family’s been here generations. No one knows this place better than we do. So I’d be happy to help you settle in.”

“Thank you – I was told that arrangements had been made for me on Blackwood Road?”

“Blackwood? Huh, I didn’t know anyplace was available there. What number?”

“Thirty-three.”

There was a falter in Emory’s steps, and in his smile. He suddenly looked the tiniest bit confused.

Star Swirl stared at his guide. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, no, nothing’s wrong,” said Emory. “It’s just… Well… I’ll explain when we get there.”

They were now passing through the heart of the town. Star Swirl read some of the signs on the shops. Madame Bethany’s Herbal Medicines. General Goods and Necessities. The Blue Rose. Most of the lights were out, but from each shop sign, Star Swirl had a very firm impression of something antique. Although the sign for The Blue Rose was obviously the newest, it was clear that Whither’s Hollow was a town that had happily grown roots in the earth.

“So,” said Emory, “what brings you to our little town, Star Swirl?”

“Oh, yes, of course. I am… I am a student.”

“What do you study?”

“Well, a little of this, a little of that… but mostly magic.”

“Oho! You’ll be very popular around here. We’re mostly an earth pony town, with a handful of pegasi. I probably couldn’t name you a dozen unicorns that live here. We often get artists that come up to Whither’s Hollow for the isolation, the serenity, but this is the first time I can think of that we’ve had a unicorn come up for magical studies.”

Star Swirl inwardly groaned. This would be an obstacle to the building of friendships, if he was going to be viewed more as a circus attraction than a pony. No matter, no matter, Star Swirl thought. If their interest is limited to my being a unicorn, I certainly can’t stop it. And perhaps it won’t be so bad.

“Oh, here we are,” said Emory. “Blackwood Road.”

They faced a dirt road lined with cottages of all shapes and colors. It branched out from the town like the stem of an apple, reaching out towards the forest that lay at the town’s north-western border.

The pair started down the road, and Star Swirl watched the house numbers tick by. One. Three. Soon seventeen, twenty-three, thirty, thirty-two…

And the road ended. It simply stopped just after house thirty-two, then seemed to dissipate into grass. Star Swirl bit his lower lip.

“Emory, I’m so sorry if there’s been some sort of mistake – ”

“Oh, no, there hasn’t been a mistake. Follow me; the road hasn’t ended.”

Emory set off into the grass, Star Swirl’s wheeled trunk in tow. Star Swirl examined the end of the road, and saw that Emory was right – it hadn’t ended. The grass had simply grown over it. If you looked carefully, you could still make out where the road had been. Star Swirl galloped to catch up with Emory.

The two of them followed the almost-road, over the gently sloping earth, closer and closer to the very mouth of the forest. They followed it up a small hill, and when they reached the top, Star Swirl looked down and saw where the almost-road led.

Hidden from the view of the rest of Whither’s Hollow by the small hill, there sat a little wooden cabin. It was clearly a forgotten place, or at least severely unused. But it looked stable enough – a stone chimney, enough space for three or four rooms, no evident signs of crumbling or disintegration. It was only thirty or so yards from the edge of the woods.

“You see,” said Emory, starting down the hill, “this cabin was one of the first buildings erected in Whither’s Hollow. Just as sturdy as anything else you could find here. But it’s sat here ignored for years and years – no one touches it except around Winter Wrap Up, you know, just for the sake of keeping the whole town neat and clean. The sheets are changed, the windows are washed. No one talks about it, but the general town consensus is that thirty-three Blackwood Road is cursed.”

They reached the door. Emory produced a key, and offered it to Star Swirl.

Star Swirl unlocked the door, and it opened with a rusty but not altogether unwelcoming creak. They entered what seemed to be a living room, with a wooden table with three chairs, a long bench with blankets, a sofa, and a large stone fireplace. The room was a little bare, but everything seemed fine. The biggest problem was probably excess accumulation of dust.

Star Swirl magically opened one of the pieces of luggage he carried, and from it he pulled a collection of lanterns and candles. They each lit themselves with a quick crackle of red sparks, and Star Swirl placed them all around the room. Suddenly, thirty-three Blackwood Road seemed downright homey.

Star Swirl saw that Emory had the most wonderful grin on his face – so infectious that, for some reason he couldn’t articulate, Star Swirl found himself smiling, too.

“I think I’m going to like magic,” said Emory.

Emory’s eyes suddenly brightened – he’d clearly been struck by inspiration. “Say,” he said, “I don’t know if it’s impolite to ask or anything, I’ve never known many unicorns… But since you’re studying magic and all… I don’t suppose you can tell whether this place is really cursed or not?”

Star Swirl had just been thinking about that himself. Whether it was an inborn talent or a sense sharpened by years of training and study, he was very sensitive to magic. He could normally tell if an object was enchanted just by touching it, and if a spell was cast within a mile of Star Swirl, he’d know.

He began slowly walking around the room, touching the walls with his hoof, trying to get a sense of the place (Emory, watching from the doorway, contained his excitement with some effort). He closed his eyes, he opened himself up to the possibilities of magic. But there was nothing.

Star Swirl turned back to Emory. “There’s nothing. So far as I can tell, there’s no curse on this place.”

“Oh! That’s good,” said Emory, but in truth, he seemed just the tiniest bit put out. “I never really believed it, but wouldn’t that be something, if it was cursed? Well, that’s one lifelong mystery solved. Anyway, it’s getting dark, and I don’t mean to keep you up. If there’s anything you need, you can find me if you ask at the Mayor’s office. I’ll be around town, so I’ll probably run into you tomorrow anyway. I’ll take my leave. See you around.”

“Goodbye, Emory. Thanks for the help.”

“Sure thing.”

And with a creak and a click, Star Swirl was alone.

He investigated the place. There was the living room, a washroom, and a bedroom, all stocked with the bare necessities – a towel and two bars of soap in the washroom, the furniture in the living room, and a plain wooden bed equipped with a mattress and sheets in the bedroom, plus a small dresser. Star Swirl quietly set about making himself at home in the light of his candles and lamps, unpacking, rearranging.

In spite of himself, Star Swirl rather liked Whither’s Hollow so far. It seemed to be a place with a good deal of personality, a good deal of history. And best of all, he thought, I’ve already begun my assignment, before I even finished unpacking. I might not have enough insight to write to the princess yet, but it's a start. Ah, and that reminds me.

With all of his other things now put away in closets, cupboards and dressers, Star Swirl retrieved the Dragon’s Tongue from his pocket. With a flicker of white light from his horn, the wick sparked and began to burn. The flame was a subdued, dull green one, an odd addition to the cabin’s current cheery glow.

He went through the cabin one last time before bed, putting out all the lamps and candles. Finally he was alone with the Dragon’s Tongue. In the quivering, nearly sickly green light it gave, Star Swirl suddenly found it much easier to believe that thirty-three Blackwood Road was cursed. But he knew that it could not be.

He placed the green, pulsing flame on the dresser in his bedroom. He slipped out of his cloak and into bed. Star Swirl lay there, watching the faint, flickering shadows on the wall until sleep came to him. His dreams were soft and empty.

The darkness that night was great, bolstered by a smattering of clouds. In Whither’s Hollow, not a light could be seen. Only the dimmest of lights, a somber green glimmer, was visible to the outside world. And even that might have been mistaken for a trick of the eye.

But lights or no lights, the Shadows were on the move.

They roamed to the south of Whither’s Hollow, sniffing the air, treading lightly, sticking to the darkest places. They paced across the river which ran gently in the south-east. And they prowled along the edge of Blackwood Forest in the north-west. The Shadows pawed at the earth, smelling the ponies, gazing blankly at the dark, slumbering shapes of the pony houses and cottages, slowly advancing, slowly daring to venture just a little bit closer to those shapes, just a little bit closer to that bizarre, alluring green glimmer, slowly, steadily –

And suddenly the clouds parted, and the white, burning majesty of the full moon washed over the hills and houses and trees. There was no more room left for Shadows. They retreated to the caves and dungeons and burrows where no light ever pierces the dark. The night was bright again, clear, brilliant. The moon towered over Whither’s Hollow, ever watchful and vigilant.

That night, all was quiet.

Whither's Hollow

Morning came softly. A red sunrise quietly set trees afire all over Equestria. And just east of Canterlot, a little filly named Toffee was rising from bed.

Rubbing her eyes, she stumbled outside of her lonely red house by the river, searching for her papa, calling to him, hoping for breakfast. “Papa! Where are you? Papa!”

But Papa was not outside. All she could see was the river, the house, Papa’s mill, and –

The shed. The shed door was open.

Toffee squinted and rubbed her eyes again, but the shed door remained ajar. Papa didn’t like to leave anything unlocked; he was afraid of thieves in the night. Why didn’t Papa lock the door last night? Was he in there now? Toffee didn’t hear the banging of the hammer, or the low buzz of a saw. What could he possibly be doing out here, so early in the morning?

Careful not to slip on the dewy grass, Toffee set out for the shed. “Papa, I’m hungry! What are you doing out here, silly-head?”

She pushed the door fully open and was confronted with a wall of black, no windows or lit lanterns. A bubble of night that had survived the sunrise. Toffee gazed into the black. “Papa?” she said, but the darkness seemed to absorb all sound. She gazed into that blackness, first with curiosity, then with trepidation…

And her eyes adjusted, ever so slightly, just enough for her to make out the lifeless lump on the floor, and the hulking Shadow that stood over it, a Shadow that breathed, that moved with a life of its own, a figure that stepped over the lifeless lump and advanced on the doorway, and somehow, Toffee could see the Shadow’s eyes, and how they burned, how they hungered, how they raged –

And she was taken.

Star Swirl awoke to the sound of a flute.

A beam of early morning sunlight from a nearby window fell on his face, setting his eyes aglow behind their lids. He sat upright in bed, the sound of the flute sifting into the cabin from under the doors, through the cracks in the walls. It was a mellow melody, gently falling and rising, falling and rising. Star Swirl rubbed his eyes.

“Who in Equestria could possibly…” he muttered, rolling out of bed, his sound sleep disturbed. Now fully awake, he snatched up his cloak from the floor and flung it around himself as he made his way to the front door.

He threw the door open and cast his eyes about the grassy hills surrounding the cabin.

Sitting on a tree stump not far from the front of thirty-three Blackwood Road was a brown earth pony. In his hooves he held a dull silver flute, and he gently swayed as the music played, the tune floating on the swelling and diminishing waves of his breath. His eyes were closed, his expression serene, almost meditative.

“You there!” Star Swirl called. “What are you doing here?”

The music ended with a botched squeak of a note, and the brown pony all but fell off the stump with shock at the sudden interruption. Apparently, he had not expected the abandoned and shunned thirty-three Blackwood Road to suddenly be occupied by an irritated gray unicorn.

The brown pony shot to his feet, staring at Star Swirl. He seemed terrified, but the shock seemed to have fused his hooves to the spot.

“I-I’m… I’m sorry,” he stammered, “I didn’t mean to… uh…”

“See here,” said Star Swirl, stepping down from the door, “if you want to play that infernal pipe of yours, would you please be so courteous as to find – ”

Star Swirl stopped himself. This was only the second pony he’d met in Whither’s Hollow. Was this how he intended to make friends? Just look at this brown stallion, he could melt into a puddle at any moment. Take a breath, Star Swirl, gain some composure, he told himself. You might be able to remedy this yet.

Star Swirl blinked away the early morning mind-fog, and put on what he suspected was a sympathetic smile (the brown pony, in turn, began looking very confused). “Just listen to me,” said Star Swirl, laughing at himself. “You’d think I never had a visitor. Maybe it’s the early hour… I’m sorry to startle you. What’s your name?”

The earth pony stared at Star Swirl, slowly realizing that he was not about to be incinerated by a bolt of magical lightning. “My name’s Pan. I’m sorry that I woke you, I didn’t realize – ”

“Oh, no, it’s fine, I’m sorry I yelled,” said Star Swirl, walking over to the stump. “Can we start over?”

Pan nodded – his discomfort was starting to crumble away. “Sure.”

Star Swirl held up a front hoof. “I’m Star Swirl. Pleased to meet you.”

They shook hooves. Pan finally let the corners of his mouth twitch.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” said Pan, glancing at the ground, “but… What are you doing here? I mean, no pony’s lived here for ages.”

“Yes, well, I think that some of the arrangements made for me to stay at Whither’s Hollow were a bit… uninformed. I’m just here for some magical studies, then I’ll be on my way…”

Something behind Pan’s eyes lit up. “Magic? I like magic.”

“Do you? A pony called Emory told me last night that you don’t have many unicorns around here.”

“That’s right. But I still like magic… or the idea of it, anyway. You know, I don’t think music and magic are really that different.”

“Is that so?” said Star Swirl, mentally bracing himself for the uninformed opinion of a lay-pony.

“Sure.” Pan examined his flute. “I’ve studied music for a long time – my whole life, really – and I still have no idea what it is. But I think I’ve been around long enough to know how it works. Music is a science, a discipline, and an art. I think that’s probably true of magic, too…”

Star Swirl’s eyebrows went up. This was an insightful view of magic. And it was a view that Star Swirl himself hadn’t considered before. To his great surprise, Star Swirl found himself impressed.

Pan’s eyes shifted again to the ground. “But I don’t really know… You’d know, I wouldn’t…”

“No, no, it’s fine. That’s… interesting. Always good to share opinions, always enlightening. Tell me, Pan, why is it that you were playing your flute outside my cabin this morning?”

Here was another trick of communication and trust-building which Star Swirl had learned through experience and observation – ponies loved to talk about themselves. Even if they were a bit withdrawn, as this Pan was, there was no better way to draw them out of their shells then by letting them speak about the goings on of their own lives. This, Star Swirl knew, was an effective strategy. But as he asked his questions, he was surprised to find that he truly did want to know more about Pan, why he was out here, what he was playing.

“I always come here in the morning,” said Pan, finally relaxing into an honest smile. “It’s a pretty spot, and it’s just far enough away from the rest of the town that I’m not bothering anyone. I’ll practice, I’ll write new pieces – Then when I’m done, I’ll go wander around the center of town to do some thinking… Inspiration, if you’d like. Sometimes I’ll go back to my cottage to write something down, sometimes I’ll come back out here to play around with an idea. It’s just a nice spot.”

“You’ve lived here a while?”

“No, I live down south. But sometimes, I’ll spend a few weeks up here in Whither’s Hollow, just to get away, just to have some quiet to get my work done… If you’d like, I could show you around.”

Star Swirl had planned to spend the day quietly observing the town, perhaps poking his nose in here or there, forming a plan of attack. Yes, a trip into town with Pan would mean losing the benefit of invisible observation, but as long as a guide was presenting himself on a silver platter…

“That sounds great, Pan. Lead the way.”

By the time the two of them arrived on Main Street, Whither’s Hollow was undoubtedly wide awake. Ponies bustled in the streets with carts and packages, foals chased each other, laughing in the streets, and all of the shops Star Swirl had passed by the night before now sported signs in their front windows reading “Open.” Star Swirl asked Pan about where he might find some magical supplies.

“There’s a little bookshop up on Amity Avenue,” said Pan, “but I don’t think it has much in the way of magic.”

“That’s all right,” said Star Swirl. “I brought most of what I’ll need with me.”

Besides, he thought, maybe it’s best that I don’t make my magical interests too public. My horn already seems to be attracting too much attention.

Star Swirl had indeed noticed that the further they’d ventured into town, the more ponies would subtly glance his way, whispering and giggling to each other. Star Swirl tried to keep his head down, but dropped that particular strategy when he accidentally walked headlong into a passing mail-pony, most likely leaving a nasty bruise on her side.

Star Swirl knew that this would not be manageable for long. There has to be something I can do…

A shop sign caught his eye. The Wardrobe: Apparel for Everypony. In a large window mounted on stands were assorted coats, shoes, blankets… and hats.

“You know, Pan, I think I’m going to need some extra clothes while I’m here. I need to pay a visit to The Wardrobe.”

And before Pan could respond, Star Swirl was trotting through the shop door.

Inside, a kindly looking old mare was waiting behind a counter. “Good morning, dear,” she wheezed. “Can I be of some assistance?”

“Yes,” said Star Swirl. He eyes hungrily swept over the room, and he saw a hat stand tucked into the corner. They mostly looked too small – but there, sitting on the very top of the stand. A wide brimmed, pointy blue hat. Nothing too fancy, but it seemed good enough to get the job done.

He magically lifted the hat off the stand and placed on the counter. “Just this will be fine.”

“That will be three bits.”

As Star Swirl rummaged in his cloak for change, the door clunked open behind him, announcing that Pan had caught up. He watched with sort of fascinated confusion as Star Swirl paid the old mare and fitted the plain blue hat on top of his head.

Star Swirl knew that he couldn’t fit his horn into the pointed section of the hat. Instead, he pulled the wide blue rim forward until it rested snugly on his horn. That should do it, he thought. Now at least it’s a little hidden.

“Star Swirl?”

“Sorry for the delay, Pan,” said Star Swirl, turning to the perplexed brown pony. “But I forgot to bring a hat. I’ll need one, for, uh… rain. Or sun.”

“Star Swirl, I think that hat might be meant for mares.”

“Ah. Well, good. I’ve never been a fan of pony gender roles. Anyway, I don’t mean to keep you waiting.”

And the two of them were back outside, walking the streets. As Star Swirl asked questions and Pan supplied answers, he observed the reception his hat was getting. Oddly enough, the hat attracted less attention that just his horn had. There was no excited whispering, only the occasional judgmental glare from an older pony. Star Swirl grinned. I think I’ll grow to like this hat.

As the two of them ventured on, the streets abruptly widened, and suddenly things were much busier. Ponies in stalls were selling apples, carrots, fish, fresh produce of all sorts, calling out to passers-by to purchase their wares. It seemed to Star Swirl that most of Whither’s Hollow was probably there.

“Oh, I forgot – today is market day,” said Pan, somewhere between an explanation and an apology. “If you want to go somewhere quieter, we could – ”

“No, no, not at all,” said Star Swirl. “This is fine.” In a busy market like this, perhaps I’ll be able to get some inconspicuous observation done after all, he thought.

The first thing Star Swirl picked up on as he and Pan waded through the sea of shopping and chatter was that these ponies gave off very different energy than what he was used to. Star Swirl was accustomed to spending time around ponies who sat quietly in libraries and learned about the world through the windows in books, ponies who spoke in careful euphemisms and subtle tones. But here was a market place filled with ponies who had little patience for euphemisms, ponies who seldom needed to look through the windows of books, because they were content with the views they had. Emotions and relationships were naked in Whither’s Hollow. Star Swirl and Pan passed two mares who were absolutely shrieking with laughter at something a baker at a pastry-stand had said.

Star Swirl realized that this nakedness intimidated him.

His eyes surfed the crowd as Pan talked about some of the pony vendors, the state of the market, and something about a town-wide anniversary celebration coming up. Star Swirl watched as the business of friendship and the business of business unfolded around him. Here, a sprightly copper-colored pegasus bartered with a plump, greasy looking earth pony over a set of candlesticks. There, a very serious assembly of foals drew dragons on the cobblestones with chalk of every hue. And over there –

Something knocked into Star Swirl’s side, nearly sending him tumbling to the ground. Somepony cried “Sorry!” and Star Swirl looked up from under the brim of his hat just in time to see a pink pony galloping through the crowd with surprising agility, ducking and weaving, a brown satchel slung across her back. He only saw her for a split second, then she vanished into the crowd.

Something fluttered in the air, and drifted down like a snowflake to the ground. Star Swirl bent down to examine it. A petal; a flower petal.

He looked up over the crowd just in time to look down the street and see the door of The Blue Rose swing shut.

Star Swirl looked at that door, and for some reason, something about that pink pony… interested him. Engaged him. He’d only seen her for a moment, yes, but somehow, she’d been… different from the others. She had a different energy. Something more lively, more exciting, something he couldn’t quite put his hoof on…

Star Swirl was surprised to find himself moving in the direction of The Blue Rose. He’d never been the sort of pony to go after things. He was usually content to sit back and watch and ponder. How strange it was that he should suddenly find a new spirit of curiosity alive inside him, as if something in Whither’s Hollow had seeped into his skin overnight.

He glanced over his shoulder, looking for Pan. He saw that some ten paces back, Pan had accidentally knocked over a cart-full of bags of flour, which now sat heaped on the cobblestone road in snowy mounds. A tall, wide, rather intense-looking stallion was now turning quite red in the face, pointing a hoof in Pan’s direction and all but spitting with rage, his words drowned out by the crowd. Pan, his face to the ground, could only nod and mumble apologies. And to Star Swirl’s surprise, there at Pan’s side, Emory had appeared. A stern look on his face, Emory seemed to be speaking to the tall-wide pony as if he were a lawyer in a courtroom, defending his client against a venomous prosecution.

It looks as if Pan and Emory know each other, thought Star Swirl. Half of him wanted to go back to Pan and see if he could help, but the other half was being silently and inexplicably pulled in the direction of The Blue Rose. Well… It does look like Emory has things under control. I won’t be long, I’ll just pop in and… and see what’s inside…

And so, perhaps for the first time in his life, Star Swirl chose the uncertain over the certain.

The crowd thinned as he made his way to The Blue Rose, and very soon he found himself in front of the door. He pushed it open with one hoof.

Ding.

Once inside, Star Swirl looked up and saw a tiny golden bell on a hook above the door, positioned so that it would ding once when the door opened, and once when it closed. It was a remarkable little cup-shaped bell, the sort of thing you might expect to find in the bell tower of a very tiny cathedral. Star Swirl looked up in time to see it ding once more as the door swung shut behind him. It was a pleasant sound.

The shop was covered with shelves, and on those shelves were dozens of pots and bouquets and all sorts of arrangements of flowers. Suspended from the ceiling was a pot of insect-like green buds, glistening metallically. On a shelf just by the door, a plate-sized beast of a flower, with soft, black, silky petals exploding from a red center. Everywhere, blues, yellows, oranges, golds. And busying herself unloading fresh new white flowers from her brown satchel was the pink pony. She hummed as she worked, placing a few pots of the white flowers on the highest shelf of the far wall. Having heard the bell, she called out from over her shoulder.

“Welcome to The Blue Rose, what can I do for you?"

She stretched up onto the tips of her hooves, and the pot jiggled into place on the shelf above her. Grunting with satisfaction, she scurried about the other shelves around her in a flurry, making room for the new additions from her bottomless brown bag. Adjusting a strange yellow antenna of a plant, she caught a glimpse at Star Swirl. Her business smile morphed into a genuine one. “Nice hat,” she said.

This took a moment for Star Swirl to register, and then his face flushed with heat. “Yes – well…” he stammered, toying with his hat, not quite sure what to do with it. “I didn’t – I’m pretty sure it’s meant for mares.”

Star Swirl’s whole body went rigid. The pink mare’s eyebrows went up.

Ah yes, Star Swirl thought, still toying with his hat. Winner of friends and conqueror of small-talk. That’s me.

The mare laughed, a sound that was neither forced nor embarrassed. “Don’t worry, I’m just teasing you,” she said, fishing the last of the exotic-looking plants from her bag.

Star Swirl made up his mind to remove his hat, and put it on a rack by the door. And when the pink mare’s eyes focused his horn, he wished immediately that he had not done so.

“Aha! So you must be Star Swirl.”

He blinked. “You know me?”

“Well, Emory mentioned that you’d be arriving soon,” said the pink pony, taking her place behind the counter.

Star Swirl approached, his interest rekindled. “You know Emory?”

“Oh, yeah, we’ve known each other for ages. Did he welcome you last night?”

“Yes, he showed me to my cabin.”

“Mmm.” She whipped a rag out of thin air and started cleaning off the counter. “That’s very much like him, you know. He likes to be involved in everything. Frankly, I get exhausted just watching him. But I’m not saying he’s doing anything wrong! I mean, after all, who could blame him? Did he tell you his last name?”

“No.”

“Whither. Emory Whither. His great-great-whatever grandparents founded this town, and the family never strayed far. The Whither family has always been in charge, winning elections and serving the community and all that. And no one really minds – they practically rear their children for it nowadays, and hey, the town’s still standing after two hundred years. Well, one hundred ninety-nine, the bicentennial’s coming up soon.”

“I heard about – ”

“Emory’s grandmother Agnes Whither is Mayor now, and she’s trying to keep the bicentennial preparations running smoothly, but she’s getting old, bless her heart, and Emory is starting to handle more and more of the everyday-maintenance sorts of things. Imagine it, hardly nineteen, and he’s all but running a whole town – Oh! All this chatter, and I forget to tell you my name. I’m Lily.”

She stuck out her hoof over the counter.

Struck slightly dumb by Lily’s boundless, earthy energy, Star Swirl shook her hoof and said, “Star Swirl. Pleased to meet you.”

“So, what brings you here, Star Swirl?”

“Well, I was walking around with a pony I met this morning, I saw the shop, decided I might – ”

“No, no, I mean, what brings you to Whither’s Hollow?”

“Oh. Well, I’m a student. I’m up here taking some time to study.”

“Study what?”

“… Magic.”

Star Swirl was expecting Lily’s eyes to light up. Instead she just gave him a very incredulous look. “And is Whither’s Hollow much of a hot-spot for magical studies?”

Star Swirl stared at Lily. And then all he could do was laugh. Lily joined him.

“No,” he said, catching his breath. “Not really.”

“Well, to Tartarus with us, then! Go over to Canterlot, or somewhere like that, find one of those fancy unicorn magic-tutors. Do you have a teacher?”

“Yes. I think so.”

“You think so?”

“Yes… I suppose we’re both waiting to see if things work out.”

“Well then, Star Swirl, I wish the best for you, and I hope ‘things’ work out. Now, I’m obligated to ask you this – ” She cleared her throat. “Would you care to buy some flowers, sir? The chrysanthemums are lovely this time of year.”

Star Swirl grinned. “I’m afraid not, thank you. Just browsing.”

“Well thank goodness that’s over.” They both laughed. “I care about this shop, I swear!” Lily cried with a wide smile. “I made such a fuss this morning about getting over here early enough to open on time.” She cast her eyes around the empty shop. “Not that The Blue Rose is the most popular shop in town… But we do what we can, don’t we?”

Star Swirl nodded. “We certainly do.”

Suddenly Star Swirl remembered; Pan and the spilled flour. It was probably all cleared up by now, and Pan would be wondering where he’d gone. “Excuse me, Lily, I have to go, I’m late for a friend. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to – ”

“Not at all, not at all,” she said. Star Swirl galloped to the door and retrieved his hat from the rack. Lily called after him. “You come back again soon, you hear me, Star Swirl? I’m not through with you yet.”

Star Swirl turned back and smiled. “I will.”

As he positioned the brim of his hat over his horn, Star Swirl had the most peculiar feeling of lightness in his chest. That was… nice, he thought as he opened the door. Not false or forced, not calculated. It was nice.

Ding.

Princess Celestia was filled with a cold unease.

It was not yet noon, and a tragedy had struck. She sat on her throne and listened wearily to a messenger relay the savage deaths of two ponies east of Canterlot. Mysterious circumstances. Strange wounds.

“Did they have any other family?” Celestia asked.

“Yes, Princess,” said the messenger. “The miller pony has a brother and a sister working in the mines down south.”

“Next week, I will attend the funeral. I shall pay my respects and offer my condolences to the siblings.”

“Very good, your Highness.”

She dismissed the messenger, and sat there in thought for some time. She did not stir again until a Royal Guard marched into the throne room. She straightened up.

“I asked not to be disturbed, Captain,” she said to the guard. “What is the meaning of this?”

The guard bowed. “Begging your pardon, Princess Celestia,” he said, “but one of your historical consultants learned that this had arrived at the Palace, and demanded that you see it.”

“What is ‘this’? What is ‘it’? Don’t speak in circles, Captain, show me what you have.”

The guard held up a yellow envelope. Celestia magically plucked it from his hooves and brought it before her. And as she got her first good look at it, a numbness stole over her. All of Canterlot fell away, eclipsed by this one square of parchment.

On the front of that envelope was a seal of black wax. In that wax were carved two jagged, parallel lines, like twin bolts of lightning. To any other pony, these lines would have been nothing more than decorative scribbles. But Celestia knew better. She knew because she had seen it before. She knew that those jagged lines carved into the black wax were two rows of gaping, crooked, pointed teeth.

The Jackals of Tartarus

Princess Celestia closed her eyes. A storm raged in her mind. She focused, and within a moment it began to subside. This was an important moment. It required the utmost delicacy, grace, and honesty. Her eyes flashed open.

Her horn glowed, and the double doors before her opened.

The royal study had been converted into a meeting hall. The regular furniture had been replaced by a large, dark, circular wooden table. Celestia entered the study, flanked by the Royal Guard. She held her head high and approached the last empty chair. Upon her arrival, the four representatives sitting at the table stood.

On Celestia’s left was Ambassador Dromedary, a wisened old camel from Saddle Arabia. He watched her with glassy eyes through wire-rimmed spectacles. He was as respectful and reverential as ever, but there were a thousand questions etched into the wrinkles of his face.

Next to Dromedary was Tendaji, a zebra representative from overseas. Her long black hair hung down in intricate braids, and her light, ornately woven brown cloak hung over her like a cobweb. Her face was difficult to read – calm and collected on the surface, but there was no knowing what dwelt below.

And then came a plump orange unicorn in an ill-fitting suit and tie; Governor Bardolph, an Equestrian official from the south, who held jurisdiction over many a town and settlement. He looked at Celestia with tense, beady eyes – perhaps even with a flicker of impatience – and fiddled with the neck of his tie.

And finally, on Celestia’s right was Princess Luna. To Celestia, she was even more difficult to read than Tendaji.

Princess Celestia sat. The others followed suit.

“My friends and allies,” she said, “I would like to begin by thanking you all for coming on such short notice. Rest assured, I would not have sent for any of you if the need for your presence had not been great. This is a matter that concerns all of us. It is not merely an Equestrian problem.”

Celestia looked about the room at her audience. They were all transfixed, except for Luna. Celestia continued. “Before I go any further, it is important that all of you are caught up to speed on the state of the issue. So I ask you now: What do any of you know about the Jackals of Tartarus?”

No one stirred. After a moment, Governor Bardolph cleared his throat.

“Princess Celestia,” he said, “surely you are not referring to that old story of shape-shifting monsters?”

“No, Governor, I am not,” answered Celestia. “What you are speaking of is a confused and distorted legend. But that legend is rooted in reality. And the Jackals have returned.”

Princess Luna lifted her head slightly, and that was all it took to gain absolute attention. “I do not wish to sound condescending,” she said, her eyes sweeping around the room, “but all of you are too young to grasp the meaning of the return of the Jackals. You simply do not know. But Princess Celestia and I know. We were there last time.”

Celestia nodded. “It was many hundreds of years ago, just after the Fall of Discord. This, I am sure, is a story you are all familiar with. His reign was long and terrible. But my sister and I were finally able to subdue him, and restore harmony to the land. In many a history book, that is where the trouble ends. But the trouble did not end with the Fall of Discord – our work had only just begun. There was a colossal mess left to be cleaned up. There were spells to be lifted, jungles and swamps to be restored back into villages and cities. And there were… other problems.

“Most of Discord’s mischief vanished when he fell, but The Great Restoration lasted for decades. That time was not solely spent remedying Discord's remaining spells. No, there were other matters that needed attending to. You see, during the Reign, the greatest threat to pony-kind was not always Discord’s terror and oppression. During this period, the gates leading from Tartarus to Equestria were more active than they had ever been, or have been since. Some ponies ventured through the gates hoping to escape a life of tyranny. And many dark Tartarian creatures saw an opportunity for new life in the ruins of Equestria. And so they came. And once Discord was gone, they were not all easy to expunge. Some may still be found today – hydras, manticores, cockatrices. But the greatest Tartarian threats of all were the Jackals.

“Jackals were unique among the horrors of Tartarus. They were fiercer and hungrier than even the most vicious Hydra, and there were thousands of them. Worse still, Jackal appetites were very… particular. They thrived in pony-populated areas. And it wasn’t long before they spread over Equestrain boundaries like a plague, to neighboring countries, overseas – it was a dark time. But Princess Luna and I were able to stop the crisis by removing the King from his throne. Without a leader, the mindless Jackals were fairly easy to herd back into the gates of Tartarus, or be otherwise disposed of.

“But that was not the end. Perhaps we were careless, or perhaps the Jackals were more clever than we thought. But the fact is, some did slip through our net. And they have been quietly submerged, waiting for an opportunity to spread across the world again. Well, my friends, their opportunity has come. They have found a new King.”

Celestia motioned to a nearby guard. The guard placed the square yellow envelope on the table, its black seal broken.

“And they have surfaced,” said Celestia. “And already, they have killed. Two days ago, two ponies were found savagely murdered on Equestrain soil. On the same day, I received this letter.”

She magically removed a folded page from the depths of the envelope, and it unfolded in the air before her. No one dared breathe.

Celestia read aloud.

To Her Highness, Princess Celestia,

I trust that this letter finds Your Highness in good health. I have the greatest hopes that we two can become fast friends and allies, once we have subdued the reckless bickering of our subjects. I had not wished for the reintroduction of pony-kind to Jackals to be stained with innocent blood. But the Fates have seldom seen fit to grant we Jackals anything easily.

I shall come to the point. The deaths of the two earth ponies at the mill were terrible tragedies. Their deaths gained nothing, and will cost my kind much in the way of social respect. As I’m sure you remember, Princess Celestia, most Jackals are not, by nature, cunning creatures. They are fundamentally beings of want and need, and of instinct and aggression. My own intelligence has given me the strength of will to do what is best for my kind, and I have gained respect for that strength. But the unfortunate truth is, there are few to no Jackals with my level of intellect.

The deaths of the two miller-ponies were in no way a reflection of my ill-will towards Equestrians. This horror was the work of a single, isolated Jackal, with no political motivations, who could not control himself. Jackals are hunters, and so they hunt. They have not all learned the self-restraint of civility. I pray that you will have the patience and wisdom to look upon these deaths as the repugnant crimes of a thoughtless, barbaric individual, and nothing more.

My greatest concerns, however, are not the ramifications of these crimes. I look to the future, and I realize that the paths of pony-kind and Jackals are about to twist and intertwine in unprecedented ways.

With my own emergence as the new Jackal King, the remaining Jackals have likewise been emerging from hiding over the past months. They stand firmly behind me, and they trust me. But even so, obedience is difficult. Therein lies my problem; they lack the discipline to mingle with pony-kind peacefully. I have commanded that all Jackals leave Equestrian citizens untouched and unharmed. So far, save for the recent accident at the mill, they have done so. But they are hungry. And we have been living off of scraps in the dark for far too long.

Now I come to my proposition. Jackals are in need of education and rehabilitation. With your help, Princess Celestia, I can give that to them. What we need is a place of our own. A place where Jackals can live and learn, without threatening Equestrians. With a Jackal Territory, I can take the time to reform my kind, without fear of inflicting suffering on ponies. I shall gather all Jackals to me, and teach them civility and depth of character in a safe place.

I require a portion of Equestria to be emptied of ponies. An area of appropriate size and location would be South of the Cavalry River, north of Macintosh Hills and the Badlands, and east of Palomino River. This portion of Equestria is modest, given the growing Jackal population, and is an invaluable investment for both of us.

I will write to you further on this matter, at which point I will expect an answer. I have complete confidence that you will see the reason and logic in my words, and I have the highest hopes that any disputes our races have had in the past will be resolved without further bloodshed, for the sake of living things everywhere.

His Majesty,

King Klav-Mar

Celestia set the letter down on the table. She looked up at the frozen faces around her.

“And I assure you,” she said, “that this letter is authentic. The seal proves it. I had suspected that Luna and I were the last living creatures in all the world who remembered this seal. I was wrong.”

Ambassador Dromedary rubbed his temple with a dry, cracked hoof. Tendaji’s eyes had glazed over, and she stared vacantly at the paper sitting before the Princess.

Celestia spoke slowly. “My response to this letter means more than altering Equestria forever. When the Jackals were last at large, they could be found all over the world. There is every possibility that they may spread again. That is why I have asked you here. You all have a right to know what is happening, and to have a say in the course of events.

“So, my friends. Tell me. What do you make of this?”

There was silence.

After a moment, Governor Bardolph, a thin sheen of sweat now glistening on his fur, cleared his throat. “How odd it is,” he said, “that this new King, this Klav-Mar, makes his first impression with a letter. He says that he is concerned with relations between Jackals and ponies, but he does not even have the courtesy to come meet you himself. Something smells foul here, Princess Celestia. What do we know at all about this Klav-Mar? Have you ever heard this name before?”

“My historians have been examining any and all existing documents related to the Jackals,” said Celestia. “We have found names of prominent figures in their race, but never a mention of a Klav-Mar.”

Bardolph scoffed. “And suddenly, this nothing of a creature is some sort of king? Really, Princess, Klav-Mar might not exist it all! It may be a pseudonym, a name for something else to hide behind.”

Ambassador Dromedary sat up in his chair. “If I may, Your Majesty,” he said, “I believe that the wisest course of action would be to proceed under the assumption that King Klav-Mar is everything he claims to be. We have no evidence to the contrary – ”

Bardolph barked with laughter. “We have no evidence to the affirmative, either! We are completely in the dark!”

“If you please, Governor Bardolph,” said Dromedary, raising a hoof to quiet him, “I’ll be but a moment. We have no evidence to the contrary, and even if King Klav-Mar is not what he claims to be, which is likely the case, we can at least pacify him.” Dromedary faced Princess Celestia. “If he – or whatever entity wrote this letter – believes that you, Your Majesty, have unquestioningly accepted his existence and position, then Klav-Mar will assume that he has triumphed, at least for the moment. That would give you time to further evaluate the situation without his suspicion.”

“Hmm.” Princess Celestia nodded. “And what, Ambassador Dromedary, do you think is the most advisable course of action?”

Dromedary hesitated for a moment, thinking. Then his mind seemed to lock in place. He adjusted his spectacles. “I would advise, Princess Celestia, that for the time being, you appease this Klav-Mar. Play his game. Give him the lands he requested, and wait to – ”

“Just a moment, Ambassador!” Governor Bardolph’s eyes widened. “Obviously, you are not well educated in the field of Equestrian geography. Klav-Mar is asking for a third of Equestria. Do you know how many ponies we would have to uproot and relocate? Millions! And even if Celestia gives the Jackals this land, what then? Will they ravage it, destroy it? We need the south-east for farming. No, absolutely not, we mustn’t give in so easily to terrorist demands, certainly not under the lofty justification of ‘appeasement.’”

“Then what is your recommended course of action, Governor?” Celestia asked.

“Smoke them out,” Bardolph snarled. “Find them. Scour Equestria with the Royal Guard, with your court unicorns. Form militias. Let these Jackals know that we ponies will not be ordered around so easily.”

Ambassador Dromedary’s eyes narrowed. He removed his spectacles. “If we act with caution and patience,” he said, staring down Bardolph, “this matter can be settled without any further bloodshed. It is possible. Anything is possible if you know the right words to use. Let us be diplomats, let us be neighbors to the Jackals. Not war-mongering, fear-governed fools.”

“Did you even hear Klav-Mar’s request, Dromedary?” said Bardolph, his voice rising. “Can you think of any reason why these Jackals, these creatures which have acquired a taste for ponies over years of terror and slaughter, would want to build their new home in Equestria?”

Dromedary could not answer.

“Exactly. You say we should act with caution. What is really the cautious thing to do? To let a poisonous snake loose in your home, or to stomp its head flat before it bites?”

Dromedary found his voice. “You continue to assume that Jackals have no other goal in mind but the ruin of ponies. If you continue to assume the worst, make no mistake, there will be war. But the Jackals might not be the ones starting it.”

Princess Celestia interceded. “Thank you, my friends,” she said. “Now, Tendaji. We have not heard from you. Is there anything you would like to add?”

Tendaji’s glazed eyes sharpened. She emerged from a mist of thought. She glanced around the room and spoke.

“We cannot hope to tame this foe until we build on what we know. We’re in the dark, without a star, without an inkling where we are. Before we quarrel, soothe, or spurn, we have a chance to watch and learn.”

Tendaji looked to Celestia and Luna. “These Jackal beasts, you tell us three, are reappearing frequently?”

“Sightings have been sporadic,” said Luna, “but by now they number in the dozens.”

“Then that is how we lay our trap. We’ll put these sightings on a map. And if the Fates are on our side, we’ll find out where these Jackals hide.”

Bardolph grunted in consent. “That, I think, is the best way to proceed,” he said. “According to the letter, Princess, there’s no need for you to take any action until a second letter comes. Until then, we should do everything we can to stack the odds in our favor. They have us at a disadvantage. They watch our every move, while we’re stuck playing a guessing game. Yes, let’s watch and wait, and stay alert.”

Dromedary placed his spectacles back on his long nose. “There is some wisdom in this plan. However, it does feel a bit too much like a military reconnaissance…”

Tendaji placed a gentle hoof on Dromedary’s shoulder and smiled at the old camel. “No battlefields are being stormed. We simply need to be informed.”

Dromedary sat in silence for a moment. Finally, he looked back at Tendaji and nodded.

Princess Celestia smiled a small, tired smile. “Thank you, Tendaji,” she said. “I tend to agree with you.”

That evening, after the meeting was adjourned and the three guests had left Canterlot Palace with heavy hearts and troubled minds, Princess Luna stood on her balcony, up in the high tower of her bed chamber. The sinking sun set the sky ablaze with pinks, yellows, and purples. Luna prepared to unveil the moon. It would glow softly at first, then with a building blaze as the sun faded to nothing. Luna focused, and the moon’s outline appeared in the sky, the ghost of a sand dollar. She waited for the sun’s departure.

In the chamber behind her, the door opened, followed by hoofsteps. Luna did not turn. The door clunked shut.

“Ambassador Dromedary has finally left,” said Celestia. “So, it has been done. Are you satisfied, sister?”

Luna still did not turn. “They all needed to know, Celestia,” she said. “It was right for you to tell them. Some secrets are better off told.”

“If you really feel that way, sister, then please, tomorrow morning, let it be known. Tell the citizens of Canterlot what is lurking outside the city walls. Then you can tell me what should and should not be secret.”

Luna said nothing.

“The meeting did raise some good ideas. That will be useful. But I ask you, sister, please – from now on, trust me.” Celestia’s voice was at once steel and ice. “I let you have your meeting. Now you must let me perform my duties. I am capable, Luna. How it hurts me, how it breaks my heart, to know that at every turn, my sister will not trust me…”

And still, Luna did not turn. She never saw the twist of sadness growing in Celestia’s face.

“I will retire now, sister,” said Celestia, her voice softening. “Goodnight.” The door opened again, and Celestia’s hoofsteps retreated. But before the door closed, the hoofsteps stopped. Luna waited.

“Please, sister,” said Celestia. “Do not think less of me…”

The door closed.

The sun faded. The moon shone brighter and brighter. Luna thought.

No, Celestia. I will not think less of you… But you are not the only pony with duties. Every night, I fight back the tide of the Jackals, the infernal Shadows, with my moonlight. But the moon cannot be full forever.

It has already begun to wane.

The Celestial Tether

Over the following week, Star Swirl was surprised to find himself settling into a routine.

Every morning, he woke up to find Pan sitting on the stump outside thirty-three Blackwood Road, waiting to begin the day. Pan had stopped playing his flute in the early hours, out of courtesy to the sleeping Star Swirl. Star Swirl was a little amused and a little touched when Pan started waiting for him in the mornings; Pan might not have been the most confident creature in the world, but Star Swirl was hard pressed to think of a nicer pony. They walked into town together, talking of magic, music, and of course, the bicentennial.

It didn’t take long for Star Swirl to realize the gravity of the Whither’s Hollow Bicentennial Celebration. Plans had been in the works for months, overseen by Emory and his grandmother the Mayor, Agnes Whither. But now that the celebration was hardly a week away, every pony seemed to be in a perpetual state of anxious preparation. The local bakeries could barely keep up with the town’s ever-increasing demand for pastries, pies, and cakes, Pan was writing new music to perform for the festivities, the hour of the celebration was fast approaching – the whole town was captivated by some mysterious, bristling energy. Even Star Swirl wasn’t exempt from a bit of excitement.

Star Swirl had been unofficially recruited by Emory to help with odd jobs for the upcoming bicentennial. Delivering messages, delivering goods, performing the odd spell or two to get a broken cart out of a ditch, things of that nature. Star Swirl had been a little uncomfortable with the idea at first, but as the days went by, he realized how practical this new casual employment was for his studies. He wasn’t just helping the community prepare; he was getting to know the ponies of Whither’s Hollow, face to face, in a way he never could have if his existence had consisted of studying in thirty-three Blackwood Road with the occasional outing with Emory or Pan. Now Star Swirl knew the bakers, the tailors, the local acrobats and actors – even though only a week had passed, Star Swirl felt more and more at home with each passing hour.

He only wished that he could see more of Lily.

Now that the celebration was just around the corner, Lily was finally getting a bump in business at The Blue Rose. Star Swirl had made a few flower deliveries for her, they’d shared a few words, but always hurriedly, in a busy blur. Star Swirl often thought about that pony, the Lily he had met in the flower shop on his first day in Whither’s Hollow. He wondered if he would ever see that pony again.

This was the thought tugging on Star Swirl’s mind exactly a week after his arrival. The morning sky was clear, the sun blazing, and he made his way to the open green fields just south of the town line – the site of the celebration. Emory had asked Star Swirl the day before for assistance with some sort of an entertainment project; he’d never told Star Swirl exactly what they’d be doing. But of course, Star Swirl agreed. The two of them, while not yet friends exactly, had certainly become allies.

In the middle of the field, Emory sat hunched over an open wooden crate, fiddling with the contents, engrossed in his work. Behind him was a pile of identical crates, perhaps a little more than a dozen. Star Swirl’s cloak trailed behind him in the grass as he approached Emory. Emory seemed hardly to notice, until the sound of the swishing cloak caught his attention.

Emory looked up with a smile. “There you are, Star Swirl,” he said. “Grab a box.”

“Hello, Emory," said Star Swirl, horn glowing under the brim of his hat. “So, what is it today? I didn’t know we were setting up the tents out here just yet. Didn't you say some pony else had that under control?”

“These aren’t tents. Take a look.”

Star Swirl magically set down a crate in front of him. The boards on the top removed themselves, and Star Swirl peered inside.

Surrounded by a protective packing of wood shavings was an assortment of jars and vials. Star Swirl lifted some into the air, examining them as they hovered. Various chemicals in various bottles and beakers, white and black powders and colored liquids, not unlike the sorts of ingredients Star Swirl might use for magical potions.

“I didn’t know you were interested in magical alchemy, Emory,” said Star Swirl, tapping the side of a beaker with his hoof.

“I’m not,” said Emory, digging through his own crate. “Here, let me show you.”

From the depths of his crate, Emory pulled up a strange, bulbous red shape. It took a moment for Star Swirl to recognize it, but then he understood; he was looking at a sculpture of a dragon’s head, teeth bared in a cartoonish snarl, sculpted eyes forever glaring at nothing.

Emory turned the dragon’s head over in his hooves, to show Star Swirl that it was hollow, with an opening in the neck. He smiled. “What you’re looking at, Star Swirl, is a purely scientific entertainment. A pyrotechnic, I call it. Look, I finished a smaller one…”

Emory reached back into the crate and pulled out a smaller, blue object – the head of a bird, mounted on a stick, a short black string dangling from its neck. Emory stuck the contraption into the ground, the beak pointing up to the heavens. He turned to Star Swirl.

“Care to light this fuse for me, Star Swirl?” he said.

With flicker of light from Star Swirl's horn and a snap, the short string was dancing with sparks. The sparks made their way up the fuse and vanished into the bird’s neck – and with a sudden whistling noise, the bird shot up into the air. Star Swirl took a step back and adjusted his hat, neck straining, watching the bird’s flight, straight up, up, up – and then the bird burst open with a crack, and a blue fire crackled on the air, just barely visible in the light of day. The fire seemed to bloom in the air, a dazzlingly intricate pattern of light, and dissolved into nothing as quickly as it had appeared.

Even though Star Swirl only ever had a limited patience for these sorts of non-magical spectacles, he was nonetheless taken with the display. This was an achievement, no denying it.

Emory clapped his hooves together and laughed. “Just imagine them in the dark! Oh, I can’t wait for the celebration. Here, let me show you how to put these together…”

Emory began going through the vials and beakers in Star Swirl’s open crate, showing him the correct mixtures to use, how to insert them into the sculpture, how to secure the fuse. Star Swirl looked thoughtfully at the materials in the crate, retrieved a green lizard’s head from the bottom, and got to work.

“This mixture,” said Star Swirl, opening a flask of black powder, “is it yours? I mean, did you come up with this yourself?”

Emory smiled as he attached a fuse to a yellow blowfish. “Oh yes. I love it. That feeling you get, when you create something new. I’m sure you must get that all the time, you know, with your magic.”

“Yes. But… Well, I don’t know, I suppose I never thought of you as a scientific type.”

“That’s all right. No one really does… I don’t suppose you’ve seen my cutie mark?”

Star Swirl had noticed it. It was an unusual mark, something Star Swirl was having the smallest bit of trouble identifying. A collection of multicolored spheres, some bunched together in a mass, other smaller spheres orbiting that mass. “Is your cutie mark what I think it is?” Star Swirl asked.

“A molecule. I don’t know if you study the makeup of matter in magic, but when I was young, I was fascinated by it all. I got to reading all about science, chemicals, molecules – the capacity for matter to change, for something mundane to become beautiful – and the next thing I knew, I had my cutie mark. I call it a secret passion.”

Star Swirl set down the ingredients he was mixing. “It’s a shame that you don’t get to pursue it more often…”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… You keep yourself awfully busy. I hadn’t realized it, but… You’re living a very different life than what your cutie mark would suggest.”

Emory paused in his work. He looked up into Star Swirl’s cool, puzzling eyes.

“That’s true,” said Emory. “My special talent might not be the management of town funds, or the organization of bicentennial celebrations… but, that’s what I have to do. It’s just the way things are.”

“But, surely, you aren’t the only pony capable of running this town? I don’t mean to impose – ”

“No, of course not,” said Emory. “I know what you mean. But try to understand, Star Swirl. You know my family. The ponies of Whither’s Hollow expect me to lead them. My family expects it of me. And truthfully, I expect it of myself.”

“… Does it ever bother you?”

Something changed in Emory’s face. Suddenly, behind all that energy and optimism, Star Swirl had a profound feeling that Emory was just a little bit tired.

“I can’t let it bother me,” said Emory. “I’ve thought… for a long time about this. About what I’m going to do with my life. I could stay here in this town, with all my friends, my family, my neighbors, and stay busy with paperwork and town affairs until the day I die. Or I could do what my cutie mark tells me. No matter what path I take… a life will be left unlived.

“But I think I’m going to stay here, Star Swirl. With Whither’s Hollow. Oh, I’ll still get to dabble in science now and then. Like these pyrotechnics. But I need to lead this town. It’s what I have to do. There are many things I want to do, sure… But I have a responsibility. And responsibility is doing what you know is right, whether you want to or not.”

They looked at each other for a moment longer. Then Emory laughed, a choked sound, and dove back into his work. “I’m sorry,” he said, beginning work on an orange squirrel. “I don’t mean to preach, I must be driving you mad…”

Star Swirl watched Emory work. Before, Star Swirl had seen Emory as a pony with a world open to him. But now, it seemed as if Emory’s world wasn't very open after all. And Star Swirl felt pain for Emory, this tired, trapped pony.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” said Star Swirl. “Any time you need to talk, I’ll be there.”

Emory looked up.

Star Swirl smiled. “What are friends for?”

Emory seemed to catch Star Swirl’s smile. “Come on, Star,” he laughed. “That lizard of yours won’t finish itself.”

And so they worked together, as the sun blazed a trail across the sky, as ponies from town began to come out into the field and pitch tents for the celebration. And from that day on, something was different between Star Swirl and Emory.

Soon every crate was emptied, every colorful sculpted head was stacked in a nearby tent, and evening had come. Emory sighed, and the two began the walk back to town. “Another day’s work, finished. Thanks again for the help, Star Swirl.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Oh, and while I’m thinking of it – Pan and I are going out to the hills tonight, just to hang out. I don’t usually have the time for things like this, but tonight, I’m finally caught up on bicentennial plans. For now. Care to join us?”

“Oh – all right, that sounds fine.”

Something flipped in Star Swirl’s stomach, and a thought occurred to him. “Say, Emory,” he said, “you told me the other day that you’re heading over to The Blue Rose, to check up on some flower arrangements?”

“Yes, right when I get to town.”

“Right. Well, if it’s – that is, if you’d be comfortable… um… Anyway. I don’t suppose you could maybe ask Lily if she’d like to come along?”

Emory gave Star Swirl a sideways glance. “Lily? Why’s that?”

“Oh, no reason,” said Star Swirl, eyes on the ground as he walked. “I just thought she might like to come…”

There was silence for a moment, and they reached the edge of town. Star Swirl looked up at Emory, looking for some sign of consent – and was astonished to find that Emory was directing a very knowing smile in his direction.

“I’d be happy to ask her, Star Swirl. See you tonight.”

And with that, he set off in the direction of The Blue Rose. Star Swirl had no words. Oh, by the stars, he thought, what did that look mean?

Now with a score of new things to worry about, and a fresh bout of skepticism angled toward his newfound extroversion, Star Swirl galloped back to thirty-three Blackwood Road, his mind saturated with irrational fear, confusion, and a quiet dash of excitement.

The sky was clear, the sun was set, and the half-moon dimly cloaked the land in a silvery gray. Star Swirl swept across the softly rolling hills to the west of Whither’s Hollow, not far from his cottage. He felt strangely at home under the stars, those lights sprawling out across the heavens, silently keeping order in the night.

Soon he saw them, Pan and Emory, chatting away on the top of the highest hill, gazing up into space. They heard him coming, and Emory waved, barely visible, silhouetted by the stars. “There he is! Welcome, Star Swirl, to the merry-making.”

Pan waved as well, as Star Swirl made his way up the hill. “Hi, Star Swirl,” he said.

“Hi there,” said Star Swirl, looking around the hill, searching for Lily. “So, what’s the plan?”

Emory grinned and nodded to a large, lumpy brown bag sitting in the grass next to Pan. “I brought along some… entertainments for tonight. I don’t think anyone will mind if half a dozen pyrotechnics go missing, especially not out of a couple hundred. We’ll start in a bit, we’re just waiting for – ”

A voice flew up the hillside, cutting Emory off:

“Pan! Get out your flute, I’ve got an urgent job for you.”

And there was Lily, running up the hill toward them with that same bag on her back that Star Swirl had seen when the two first met. Pan was surprised, but quickly fumbled for his flute, lying beside him. Lily reached the top of the hill and flung her bag down onto the grass.

She looked up and saw Star Swirl. Their eyes met, and she laughed. “Ha! Star Swirl! I told you I wasn’t finished with you, didn’t I? Yes, I did. Come on, Pan, give us a tune, quick!”

Lily started rummaged around in her bag, and Pan began to play. It was the same melody that Star Swirl had heard on his first morning in town. Soft and soothing, the sound of sunlight floating on the air –

“Oh, come on, Pan!” cried Lily. Pan stopped. “Stop it with all that ‘serious music.’ Give us something up-beat for once – what we need is a little life!"

Pan blinked. Star Swirl watched him carefully. Oh, I hope he’s all right, he thought. He’s such a gentle pony, and Lily might just be a bit too on-the-nose for –

But then, Lily’s infectious smile seemed to spread to Pan. He took a breath and started playing a tune Star Swirl had never heard him play before. Quick, light, playful; the music of fun. Star Swirl was alarmed and vaguely pleased to find his hoof involuntarily tapping.

Lily nodded. “That’s more like it.” From her bag she extracted four flower pots and laid them on the ground. In the dark, it was hard for Star Swirl to make them out, but it looked as if each pot had a tiny plant sprouting from it; stems with large bulbs on the ends, like lollipops lodged in the dirt.

The music played on, and within a few moments, each bulb began to softly glow. The light kindled, as if dancing to Pan’s flute, and very soon each bulb had the blazing brilliance of a torch. Lily passed them around.

“Thanks, Pan,” she said. “That will do for now. These are torch-buds. I figured I’d bring them out for tonight. I wasn’t sure how long they’d be able to survive out here; I keep them in the back of the shop, and I’ve always got records playing for them. But they should be fine for a while now. They seem to like live music much more than the recorded stuff.”

Lily gave Star Swirl his torch-bud. He took it in his hoof gently, nearly afraid the bulb would break, like a delicate glass ornament. He looked up into Lily’s laughing eyes and grinned at her from under the brim of his hat.

“As they say,” he said, “better to light a candle than curse the darkness. It’s certainly lucky we have you here.”

Lily beamed. “Yes,” she said, only half serious. “It is.” She turned to Emory. “So, Captain and Lord of us all, what happens next?”

And what followed was a night Star Swirl would never forget. They arranged the torch-buds in a circle, and from the top of that hill Emory launched his pyrotechnics into the sky. Blues and reds and greens and whites. They watched in wonder as the sparks of pure color drifted back down to the earth and vanished before they touched the ground. They all had turns lighting the devices – Lily was particularly keen to get her hooves on the sky-blue dolphin. Each of them had gotten their fair share of wonder from those bottled fires before the night was out.

When the pyrotechnics were gone, they laid down on the grass, in the shape of an X, their heads in a circle. And in the dimming yellow glow of the Torch-Buds, they looked up into the stars.

Emory pointed up. “That one there,” he said. “The yellow one, in that cluster. Of all the stars in the sky, that one moves the least. I’ve studied the charts and everything. Some ponies call it the Root.”

“Odd name, for a yellow star,” said Lily. “I’d expect something… oh, I don’t know, nicer-sounding. But that pink one next to it – gorgeous! Pan, any favorites?”

Pan shrugged in the grass. “Well, I do like the big white one, just over to the side.”

“Hmm,” said Lily. “Not bad. And you, Star Swirl? You’ve been quiet. Any favorites?”

Star Swirl hesitated. He knew these stars very well.

“In a way,” he said, “they’re all my favorites.”

“That’s cheating!” Lily cried.

“Actually… Take a closer look.” Now it was Star Swirl who was pointing up. “That cluster, with the yellow and the pink and all that. Really look at it. What is it?”

They all studied in silence. Emory spoke up first. “Is this a trick question? That’s Astral Patch Six, isn’t it?”

“Many ponies call it that. It has another name, though. It’s not just a patch. Look at their formation. What do you see?”

Lily gasped – she’d gotten it. “No way,” she said. “It’s a swirl. A star swirl. Oh sweet Celestia, tell me that this doesn’t have anything to do with – ”

“ – My name, yes. My parents named me for that collection of stars.”

“Oh, this is too good!” said Lily, clapping her hooves together. “Go on, Star Swirl, tell us more.”

Star Swirl paused for a moment. This wasn’t something he just went around telling other ponies. In fact, he thought, save for Luna… I’ve never told any pony how I got my name.

He drew in a deep breath, and took the plunge. “Have any of you heard of the Celestial Tether?”

Silence in the night.

Pan cleared his throat. “I think I might know it,” he said. “An old myth, I’m not sure…”

“That’s right,” said Star Swirl. “Very old. It’s a story that started well before Celestia, before Luna. Before Discord. According to legends, alicorns didn’t arrive in the world until well after the other pony races – the earth ponies, the unicorns, the pegasi. And without the magical strength of the alicorns, back in the Old Times – long before the unicorns got together and pooled their magic to shift the celestial bodies – there couldn’t be any night or day; at least not as we know night and day now. No one to move the sun or the moon; they moved like leaves in the wind, tossing this way and that, leaving the land in sweltering heat or freezing night for weeks at a time. The ponies of the world searched for a solution, but couldn’t manage to come up with a thing.

"One day, a small group of ponies came forward. They told the world that they would take it upon themselves to bring order to the sky. The world scoffed, of course – how could a hodge-podge mix of unicorns, earth ponies and pegasi succeed where countless great minds had failed? But these ponies were resolute. They climbed the tallest mountains in the world, braving the snow, the hopelessness, the dragons. And eventually, against all odds, they reached the highest point of the highest mountain in all of creation, and from its peak, they climbed up into the sky. And there, in the sky, they linked themselves together, hoof in hoof, a of chain of ponies spanning across the heavens. On one end, they held fast the sun. On the other, the moon. Back down on the earth, the unicorns used their magic to move the newly tamed celestial bodies through space. And with this Celestial Tether, the sun and the moon swung across the sky in perfect balance for thousands of years. Over time, the bodies of those brave ponies melted into stars, and the Tether remained unbroken for millennia, the Celestial Ponies keeping silent vigil over all of everything.

“And then… a long time later… Celestia and Luna appeared. After the Reign of Discord, the two new princesses took it upon themselves to bring order to the astral bodies. Celestia conquered the sun, and Luna, the moon. But when they took control, the sun and moon were ripped free from the Celestial Tether. Now, all that chain of stars can do is hang limply in the sky, like a coil of rope that’s gone unused for an awfully long while.

“Celestia and Luna can’t rule the skies forever. And according to legends, when their rule is over – when the sun and moon are left drifting freely in the sky again – the Celestial Ponies will return to their duties. They will do what the Princesses ultimately cannot – they will bring absolute balance forever.”

The word lingered in the air, “forever,” like a dying wind. Pan, Emory, and Lily had no words. They simply kept looking up into that swirl of stars. And so did Star Swirl. Telling that story had been… exhilarating. He was at once relieved and terrified.

And finally, when the story had sunken in, Lily spoke. “It fits you, Star Swirl.”

“Why is that?” Star Swirl asked.

“I don’t know.”

The soft glow of the Torch-Buds faded around them, until finally they went out, and all that was left was the half-moon, the stars, and the siblings of the stars, the lights of the Celestial Tether.

Lily smiled in the dark. “It just does.”

Star Swirl returned to thirty-three Blackwood Road late in the night. He lit his lamps, he removed his cloak, and he sat down at his desk. On the desk he placed his cloak, a sewing needle, and half a dozen spools of colored thread.

And he set himself to work.

He magically guided the needle through the hem of his cloak, slowly at first, then with mounting confidence, mounting passion. He laid them all out, the stars of the Celestial Tether, in a straight line, pinpoints of brilliant color and light. The yellow, the blue, the pink, white, orange, purple, and every minor glimmer of starlight in between.

Star Swirl worked well into the small hours of the morning. And finally, after a long, happy night, Star Swirl gently set the needle back down onto his desk. He magically lifted his cloak in front of him, and admired his work – the Celestial Tether, forged anew on the hem of his cloak.

From that night on, Star Swirl knew that he wore more than just a cloak. He wore the night sky.

Monsters on the Green

A quiet gloom hung in the air the following morning. The sky was gray, a light rain sprayed over Whither’s Hollow, and a cool breeze murmured in the streets.

Ponies scampered about in the dank and the wet, making frantic visits to customers and suppliers, adjusting their preparations, making last-minute corrections and plans. This weather didn’t bode well for the bicentennial, no, not when it was only a few days away. Suddenly the dampness had to be taken into account, the vendors and farmers had to ensure that their wares were ready and unaffected by the sudden moisture. Business blazed.

Star Swirl galloped over the cobblestone streets, his wide-brimmed hat keeping the rain from his eyes, his wet cloak clinging to his fur. He shivered and made for The Blue Rose.

He entered with a shudder, the ding of the little golden bell welcoming him, warming him immediately. He placed his hat on the rack by the door and turned his attention to the sight of Lily watering what appeared to be a large rock in the middle of the floor.

There she sat on the floorboards, with a large gray watering can, showering a watermelon-sized black stone, staring intently at its unbroken smoothness. Star Swirl cleared his throat.

“Good morning, Lily.”

“You’ve come just in time, Star Swirl,” Lily said, her eyes still trained on the rock. “You’re about to see something truly remarkable.”

“Ah.” Star Swirl sat himself next to the deceptively normal boulder. “Never a dull moment with you, I suppose. And what is it we’re about to witness?”

“I have no idea. But my sources me that it will be spectacular.”

Lily emptied the last of the watering can onto the rock. “That should do it,” she said, shaking the can for every last drop. “The only thing that can make it grow is fresh rainwater. We’ve been mostly sunny these past few weeks, and we don’t exactly have many pegasi here in Whither’s Hollow to perform weather duties. But every now and then, the town gets the run-off from other cities, big cities with regularly scheduled rain and all that. Like today. I couldn’t miss my chance.”

“I gather that this is a seed?”

“You gather correctly. Ever been to the Smokey Mountain, Star Swirl? Well, I have. You get to meet some pretty interesting folk around there. Bought this little puppy from a merchant gryphon with an extra toe. Coming out of her forehead. Long story. Anyway, she couldn’t tell me exactly what it was, but I couldn’t turn up the mystery of it, not for the life of me! So I bought it, and now’s as good a time as ever to try it out.”

Lily hoisted the massive seed off the floor and onto the counter. Star Swirl followed behind her, a vague shadow of a thought fluttering in his mind. “You’ve been to the Smokey Mountain?” he asked.

“Sure have. Goodness knows how many places I’ve been to. My hunt for new flora’s taken me on some pretty wild rides.”

“You’re a traveler!”

“I guess you could say that. I’m always looking for a new carnation, a new unusually colored blossom – and if I want to do that, I can’t exactly keep myself eternally tied to The Blue Rose. This shop is sort of like my home base. Most of my work – my real work, the part where the adventure happens – happens out there.” Lily nodded to the door. “Half the fun of flowers are the journeys I take to get my hooves on them. It’s a big world, Star Swirl, and you won’t catch me missing out on it.”

Star Swirl watched as Lily pulled her rag out of thin air and began delicately polishing the massive seed. He smiled. “So that’s it.”

“So that’s what?”

“Well… from the moment I first saw you, from the first day I set hoof in your shop, I thought that you were different somehow. Now I think I know why. You’re so much more worldly than I knew. The other ponies here in Whither’s Hollow, so many of them have never left this town at all. So many of them never will. But you… you’re different.”

Lily paused. She looked up, and something very small had shifted in her. “And what’s so bad about staying in Whither’s Hollow?” she asked.

Star Swirl started. Lily’s eyes bored into him. He stammered. “Nothing, nothing, of course, I just – I just meant – ”

“I know what you meant, Star Swirl,” said Lily, dropping her rag on the counter, turning her full attention to Star Swirl. “And I’m surprised at you. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my travels, it’s that no pony is any better than any pony else. Some folks grow roots, some don’t. That’s all.”

Star Swirl felt his stomach shrivel at Lily’s words, at her eyes, suddenly dim, accusatory, almost sad. He bowed his head, he stammered.

“I’m sorry, Lily,” he said, “I didn’t mean to offend you, and really, truly, that’s not what I meant. I just… I just meant to…”

Star Swirl lifted his head. He looked into Lily’s softening face and drew a breath.

“You truly are something special, Lily. You’re unlike any pony I’ve ever met. I… That’s all I meant, Lily. You’re something very special.”

Star Swirl smiled at Lily, and something inside him began to glow, warm and weightless. Lily opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, for the first time at a loss for words.

Star Swirl cleared his throat. “Thank you for your time,” he said. “I need to see Emory about the tents. They’ve been set up for a few days, and, well, the mud, the bad weather, you know… Sorry if I bothered you.”

He turned and made his way for the door. He magically lifted the hat from the rack and placed it on his head. Best to go, and go quickly – already, Star Swirl was beginning to regret his words, his openness, beginning to grow suspicious of this nameless warmth inside him –

“Star Swirl.”

Star Swirl froze, his hoof on the door handle. Slowly, almost afraid of what he would see, he turned his head to face Lily behind him.

And there she stood behind the counter, beaming, gazing at Star Swirl as if for the first time.

“Tomorrow,” she said, “I’m going out to Blackwood Forest. There are still some last-minute flowers that need picking, and they’ll be in full bloom after this rain. Would you like to come with me?”

The question hung in the air, shimmering and mysterious. The warmth inside Star Swirl billowed and bloomed.

“I’d like that very much,” he said.

They looked at each other a moment longer, neither totally certain of what had just happened, and finally Star Swirl turned and opened the door, that pure, splendid, beautiful ding of the golden bell ringing softly behind him as he stepped out into the rain.

The green fields to the south of Whither’s Hollow were peppered with work ponies, taking down the tents, moving them off, dripping and caked with mud. The rain was petering out to a mild drizzle, and the clouds above were finally lightening, but the damage was done. Emory looked on from the sidelines, a slightly soggy clipboard in his hoof, occasionally counting the tents, double-checking his figures, making sure everything was accounted for.

Star Swirl came up behind him. Emory heard him and turned.

“There you are, Star Swirl!” he said, looking back at his clipboard. “We’ve almost got things finished up here. All the water north of here ran downhill to this field, and the result isn’t becoming for a celebration. We won’t have time to let the ground dry out before the bicentennial, so we’re relocating a bit farther west; the mud isn’t nearly so bad over there… Star Swirl, are you all right?”

Star Swirl blinked, realizing that he’d been staring off into the clouds from under the brim of his hat, smiling, oblivious and blissful. “Sorry, yes?” he said, shaking his head. “We’re relocating where?”

“I said, are you all right?”

“Oh – sorry – yes, I’m fine. I suppose I just forgot where I was.”

In front of Emory and Star Swirl, two large brown earth ponies began untying the ropes anchoring a large blue tent to the swollen ground. Emory smiled down at his clipboard. “Well, I’m happy you found your way back to Equestria. Could you help those two stallions with that tent? It looks like a beast to handle.”

“Of course.”

Star Swirl’s horn pulsed with a white light, and the tent, no longer tethered to the earth, rose off the ground, folding itself in the air.

And beneath the tent stood the monster.

Tall, at least a head taller than either of the two worker ponies who stood watching with open mouths and trembling knees. A wolf-like creature, covered with wild, wiry fur, the color of mottled rust, the color of coal with a trace of fire left inside it. And its eyes, two tiny black beads in its face, burning above jagged rows of teeth. It growled a low, raspy growl, a growl that could shake the earth and liquefy the mind, and it turned its sights on Star Swirl.

Star Swirl’s eyes widened, a flash of electric terror shot through him. The light of his horn winked out, and the mass of blue tent fell at the feet of the beast. It stepped over the tent, steely black-red fur standing on end, beginning to crouch, its lips peeling back from its terrible fangs.

“Star – ”

He heard Emory’s thin voice behind him, and Star Swirl was brought back to reality. His senses sharpened, his instincts took over, and with a mighty BANG, Star Swirl let fly a bolt of magical white fire at the creature, straight into the hungry face approaching him.

The beast leapt effortlessly out of the fire’s path, rolling and twisting, landing on its paws some ten yards away. Star Swirl, unable to take his eyes off the monster, had a split second to marvel at the creature’s dexterity; it was not just quick, it was not just flexible, it was almost like a liquid when it leapt through the air, something intangible that could neither be caught nor reasoned with, like a column of smoke, or a shadow.

But then the beast was flying at Star Swirl, its intent absolute, its eyes, blank and unwavering.

With a crack, Star Swirl teleported himself behind the incoming monster, leaving it sprawled in the mud where Star Swirl had been standing. And then like clockwork, it was up again, nose flying every which way, searching.

This is no good, thought Star Swirl, driven solely by the terror, by the adrenaline. It’s so fast. I can’t keep this up forever. Every pony here is in danger.

“Emory!" he shouted. “Get all the ponies back to town! Go, now!”

Emory had been watching, unable to move, unable to blink, but now he started at the sound of his name. Star Swirl sent another bolt of fire at the monster, who again nimbly slipped away, then returned its attention to its attacker. It began slowly circling Star Swirl, head low, enormous and implacable. Star Swirl’s horn buzzed with the promise of magic, and he in turn began circling the monster, the two of them orbiting each other, locked in a dance of death.

The rest of the ponies peppered across the field looked on, awe-struck, ripped from reality. Emory called out to them. “Every pony! This way! Behind me! Run!"

And suddenly there was a balance, an order, Emory in charge, ready to help, and the rest of the ponies fell into their own roles, sprinting across the green, shrieking and shouting all the way to town, directed by Emory, who stood between the citizens and the beast.

There was a crackling from Star Swirl’s horn, and the ground began to quake. Suddenly the earth beneath the beast broke open, and thick brown roots slithered up out of the ground, lighting quick, snake-like, reaching for the monster’s legs.

But the monster again danced his dance, as fluid as a red-black shadow, contorting in impossible ways, almost flying above the roots, tripping over them lightly, a giant acrobat, elegant and repulsive.

And then the beast hit the ground, running at Star Swirl, and Star Swirl again vanished with a crack. But the beast was ready this time, and it did not stumble and fall, but instead ground his feet into the mud, slowing to a halt, and Star Swirl reappeared some twenty yards to the left of the monster.

And from there Star Swirl could see that Emory had not fled into town with the others, he had stayed, he was watching, standing between the monster and the town, but suddenly there was nothing standing between Emory and the monster, and the monster’s head turned with a reptilian smoothness in Emory’s direction.

Star Swirl’s breath stopped, his mind burned through every book he’d read, every book he’d written, searching for this one last chance, this last chance to defeat the abomination before –

And high above Whither’s Hollow, the clouds broke open.

A ray of slanted sunlight fell over the field, the grass glistening, the air warming. It fell over Emory, over Star Swirl, and over the beast.

The creature yelped, convulsing in the sunbeam. Its head whipped up, indignant and terrified of the break in the clouds. And the cloud cover was quickly dissipating, the blue of the sky was growing, strengthening, and the shadows were shrinking.

The beast howled a hideous howl, a piercing, pained sound that made Star Swirl and Emory cringe. And then the beast bolted, trailing smoke behind him, skimming the ground, flying north-west, up past the outskirts of Whither’s Hollow, up into the dark cool of Blackwood Forest.

Star Swirl and Emory stared after it, the smell of burning hair lingering over them, half afraid that the monster would return. Finally, the two of them looked at each other, shaken, uncertain, and frightened beyond the breadth of their experience.

And in the stillness, they could hear a cry rising up from the depths of the town:

“Monsters! Monsters on the green!"

By the time the day was out, the state of things in Whither’s Hollow had rapidly shifted. It hardly took an hour for word of the attack to spread like plague to every pony in town with an ear to hear with. Emory did his best to lead, to scavenge some order from the mess. The citizens amassed quickly in the market square, and there Emory took their attention and made known his plans. He told them the truth of the attack – “I’ll tell you what happened myself, I don’t want this to be mangled by fearful gossip,” he said – assured the town residents that there was nothing to fear, and asked for volunteers who would be willing to keep watch on the forest; a temporary militia, he said. Most male ponies volunteered. Emory sorted them out and scheduled their watches, day and night.

Star Swirl had taken Emory aside during this planning. “If these ponies on watch see anything, hear anything unusual,” he had told Emory, “don’t tell them to fight, don’t tell them to try and delay it, or wound it. You tell these ponies that if anything happens, the very first thing they must do is find me. That is imperative. They cannot win in a fight against the creature I fought today. We hardly escaped ourselves. Tell me that they’ll do that, Emory. That they’ll always come to me first.”

Emory had agreed.

As the militia took their first posts and the sun began to set, Star Swirl found himself sitting back at his desk at thirty-three Blackwood Road. Star Swirl had moved the Dragon’s Tongue from his bedroom to the desk, and there it burned in front of him, its sickly green pulse filling the room. Before Star Swirl sat a quill, an inkwell, and parchment. Star Swirl stared intently at the words written across the top of the yellow scroll:

Dear Princess Celestia:

The words would not come. For all the time he’d been at Whither’s Hollow, he’d not yet written to the princess. Even in the face of all the things he’d learned about friendship, he could never bring himself to write to Princess Celestia about his experiences. What should have been a quiet period spent studying in a far-off town had become a very personal journey for the young unicorn. And to share it with a pony he hardly knew, a pony he wasn’t even sure had his best interests at heart – yes, even the most powerful and respected magical creature in Equestria – seemed somehow wrong to Star Swirl. Almost obscene.

But now, there could be no more silence between he and the princess. Something had to be done, beyond a rag-tag militia of earth ponies standing around the town line with shovels and hammers and axes. The Royal Guard. Court unicorns. Help was needed.

Knowing that what he was doing was for the best, and regretting it all the same, Star Swirl magically lifted the quill and scratched out on the parchment:

I write to you with urgent news about the welfare of Whither’s Hollow. There has been an incident. We are in a state of emergency.

And from there the words would come. He told her what had happened, he told her of the monster, of the fluid, unnatural way the creature moved, of how it burned in the sun and fled into the woods, and of the militia and the need for help.

He couldn’t bear to read what he’d written over again, and in any case, time was of the essence, and so he signed the letter, Your student, Star Swirl, and held the letter above the quivering candle-flame. With surprising hunger, the green fire bloomed with a soft poof, and suddenly the letter was gone, nothing but a wisp of smoke slithering in the air.

The sun had fallen, the windows were black. Star Swirl sat back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the Dragon’s Tongue, awaiting his reply.

Agnes Whither did not suspect that she would sleep well that night.

The Whither house was very still in the dreary black of late evening, solemn, filled with too much empty space. Downstairs, the living room was lit only by a fire, cackling in the fireplace with mindless benevolence. And in a rocking chair next to that fire sat Agnes Whither, the mayor of Whither's Hollow. She was the same soft blue as her grandson, Emory, though her own coat had been slightly faded by the years, and the white of her hair and the lines under her eyes gave away her advanced age. But she was even older than she looked.

She looked into the fire, past it, dwelling, up far later than she’d been in a long time. She was even up past Emory, who she had finally convinced to take his rest. “You’ve done so well today, my sweet,” she had said to Emory, who had been barely lucid by the time the day was done, held aloft only by some thin thread of invisible purpose running through him. “Now please, to bed, Emory.”

“But Grandmother, there’s so much left to do… I must make sure that the militia is on watch and orderly, I must prepare for whatever is to be done next about the monster, and there’s always so much paperwork that I haven’t – ”

“Live one day at a time, my sweet. And take the night to rest. The militia is in place, all is well. You can hardly stand. Please, for your old Grammy.”

And so he had gone to bed.

And she, unable to rest, had stayed up with the fire.

She stood up to put another log on the coals, slowly, delicately, limbs quivering. She would never have dared move so slowly in public – oh, no, then, she moved with as much drive and authority as she could muster. She was, in all technicalities, the mayor, after all, and she at least had to keep up an air of dignity, no matter what her stage of life. But alone, in her home at night where no one was watching, she moved slowly, every hoof step sending tremors up her body.

She put the log on the coals, and gradually flames began to lick its sides. Agnes Whither sat down again in her rocking chair.

Such very strange things had been happening.

Like every forest, Agnes had heard the stories of foul things running amuck in Blackwood in the dead of night, but of course, in her whole life she’d never seen so much as a timber wolf poke its nose out of the trees. And yet today… Perhaps there might have been disastrous consequences, if the unicorn had not been there to defend the town from the beast.

Ah, yes. The unicorn, Star Swirl. That pony was in and of himself another strange happening. A student of magic, taking up residence in a small town all but devoid of other unicorns. Taking up residence in thirty-three Blackwood Road. For so long, that cabin had sat empty. And suddenly it was occupied by the least likely of outsiders.

Agnes was well aware of all the rumors surrounding that little dwelling, thirty-three Blackwood Road. Cursed, they said. No pony in their right mind would set hoof in there for longer than a night. Thoroughly, inescapably cursed.

Well, Agnes Whither was not so easily convinced by the babbling of town gossips. And yet something pulled at her mind, something that told her that those rumors might not be entirely without substance.

This was the thought tugging at her as she sat in her rocking chair in the dwindling hours of the night, unable to sleep, hardly able to stay awake. A vague prickling in her head, telling her that she was forgetting something, something she ought not to have forgotten in the first place.

And all at once, she remembered.

There had been a day in her youth, her days as a little foal, that something happened, something out by the forest. And since that day, no one would go within a mile of thirty-three Blackwood Road if they could help it.

And she had written it down.

With only a fuzzy and nearly shapeless compulsion, Agnes stood from her rocking chair with many a creak and clatter and began the arduous journey across the room to a bookshelf. Almost every book on the shelf was covered with a thick layer of dust – old photo albums and journals and calendars. Memories and mementos, things that members of the Whither family seldom had time to look back on but couldn’t bear to part with.

Agnes ran her hoof across the shelf slowly, squinting in the low light, searching, and finally she found it. A yellowed old notebook, with a faded pattern of flowers sprawling across the back, the spine, the cover. Her old diary.

She ventured back to her rocking chair with the old book, floating through a haze of half-remembered youth. She sat back down in her rocking chair and opened the diary.

It was not difficult to find the entry she desired – Agnes had seldom ever written in that diary, except for the most remarkable occasions. The writing on the page was jagged and determined, the writing of a pony unused to much quill on paper.

She read.

Dear Diary,

Something most unusual happened at the edge of the forest today. Mrs. Cook released us from the schoolhouse in the afternoon, as always, and I had planned on finding Peppermint and skipping rope. But then I noticed that all the foals were running up to Blackwood Forest. I guessed that Peppermint must have been somewhere among them, so I followed.

And there at the edge of the forest, not far from the old cabin, a zebra had appeared! The other foals told me that she’d come from the forest, but I’m not sure that I believe them. She had a fire lit on the grass, and she told stories and played riddle games with the littlest of us, and we were all laughing and having a wonderful time. The grown-ups stood watching us from a little ways away. Some were smiling, some were not.

The sun was starting to go down, and I could tell that soon the grown-ups would want to get us home. But then the zebra did something quite unexpected. She threw something in the fire, and all at once it started burning bright white. The zebra looked into the fire. I don’t think any pony really knew what she was doing. Then she spoke.

What she said wasn’t exactly a riddle, at least not like the riddles she’d been telling us before. I still don’t think I know what it means. After she spoke, the grown-ups started taking us all back to the village. They seemed awful worried. We just left that zebra standing there, looking into the white fire.

I shall try as best I can to record what she said. Peppermint and I discussed it on the way home, and we both agreed that these were the exact words. But in any case, I don’t have much trouble remembering it. For some reason, the zebra’s words are difficult to forget.

Come see, my friends; my senses numb.

The fire shows me what’s to come.

A story rolls across the years.

The ages echo in my ears.

A shadow fills my looking glass.

Hot blood shall spill upon the grass.

The dark obscures, but still I see

That friend and foe shall fight and flee.

Beware the empty old abode

By forest’s edge on dusty road.

For history shall not abide

The stallion who will die inside.

Agnes Whither closed the diary. Her breathing had become irregular, her heartbeat, erratic. It took so little now, to upset her. She closed her eyes and focused on deep, slow breaths.

Her nerves calmed and she opened her eyes. She stared at the flowery yellow cover of the book resting in her hooves. How bizarre, that I should ever have forgotten that, she thought. The cryptic poetry of a mysterious zebra. A part of the show, I suspect. One last riddle, that no pony could solve. All the same… Drivel. Drivel and nonsense.

She tottered back to the bookshelf and re-shelved the book. Of course, she did not plan on mentioning it to Emory. He was so distraught already, poor dear, and after all, what was that diary entry, really? What, beyond a macabre little novelty, a twisted old memory better left alone?

And so Agnes Whither gathered herself and went up to bed. And outside, the ever-shrinking silver sliver of the moon shone down with dull weariness.

And all sleep was uneasy.

The Riverside

Celestia awoke.

A light flashed in front of her eyes, and she was instantly out of bed, awake and alert. Celestia’s horn shimmered, and her royal bed chamber was instantly lit with candles and lamplight.

And at the foot of her grand white bed, a sheet of parchment had materialized. It sat on the floor, lifeless and waiting.

Celestia blinked and walked to the paper, peering down at it as if at an ancient artifact rediscovered. There was only one pony capable of delivering a message to Celestia so directly – only one pony equipped with a Dragon’s Tongue of her own design. After weeks, a letter had finally come.

Celestia magically lifted the note from the floor, held it aloft before her, and read.

As the words flew by before her, Celestia felt herself growing colder and colder, chilled in the mind and in the heart, until she finally reached the last lines, Your student, Star Swirl, and she was numb. She read the letter again. And then a third time.

She set the letter down on her bed and stared off into empty space, assessing the state of things.

Jackals had come to Whither’s Hollow. Celestia had never believed that they would have any interest in so tiny a town of ponies, yet still they had come. And despite the horror of it, despite all the disturbances rippling in the mind of the Princess, she felt a very definite relief. Her plan had worked. Star Swirl had beaten back the beast, he had saved the lives of who knows how many ponies. Had Celestia kept Star Swirl in Canterlot, had she left Whither’s Hollow to its own devices, she might have had a massacre on her hooves.

After such an encounter as that which Star Swirl described in his letter, Celestia knew that something further had to be done, to assuage the minds of the villagers in Whither’s Hollow. In all the rest of Equestria, the Jackals were only rumors, shifting things just out of the corner of one’s eye; not yet monsters lurking just below the window at night, waiting for the moment to strike. A confrontation such as this… It required swift action.

And yet again, Celestia confronted the reason why she had been forced to use Star Swirl for defensive purposes in the first place. There was hardly any aid left to send – Celestia had long since scattered the bulk of the court unicorns and the Royal Guard across Equestria, on the alert for Jackals. She could not remove them from their posts just to send them to Whither’s Hollow. The whole of Equestria faced this danger, and Celestia would not leave a single town unprotected if she could help it.

Celestia paced the floor, everything a blur before her. What ponies were left to send…

Even in Canterlot, there was little in the way of reinforcement. If the Jackals were to come to Canterlot – if they were truly that foolish – then they would meet more than their match in the two princesses. So Celestia had only kept the minimum patrolling guards in the city, and had only kept a dozen in the palace, just for show, just to let the ponies of Canterlot know that there was nothing to fear, the princesses would be staying where they were, the guard was in place, all was well.

But things had changed. Yes, the guards of the palace would have to go.

Celestia would send them to Whither’s Hollow. She would keep two – the very minimum she could afford, to keep up any sort of appearance at all – and the rest, she would send to the little town. Celestia knew that the guards would not truly be much help if the Jackals were to surface again, but the important thing was that the ponies of Whither’s Hollow feel protected, protected from the horrors of the night, by the Royal Guard, by Princess Celestia herself. So she would send them out immediately, as soon she had written her reply to Star Swirl.

Ah, yes. A reply to Star Swirl.

What could she say?

There was very little choice. The truth. The time for quiet white lies and important details left forgotten had passed the moment Star Swirl had lifted that blue tent from off the grass.

Celestia sat down at her desk, the wide window facing her opaque with night. She conjured a roll of parchment, an inkwell, and a quill before her. She hesitated for a moment, and then began.

My Faithful Student, Star Swirl,

Thank you for bringing these events to my attention. By morning, a unit of the Royal Guard will be stationed in Whither’s Hollow.

The creature you describe in your letter is a very old sort of monster, a monster which my sister and I know far too well.

And she wrote him the story. The presence of the Jackals in the wake of Discord, their viciousness, their hunger for ponies, and the fall of their king. She wrote as if in a dream, the words spreading out before her like spilled paint, painting a portrait, a vision of a violent past and a dark, dim memory of wild, snarling things.

The quill marched its relentless march across the parchment until the history was told, and abruptly, Celestia found she had a new story to tell. The reemergence of the Jackals.

This tale would not come so easily. The quill halted and stood at attention. Celestia considered the delicacy of the words.

The quill marched on.

Hardly a week ago, I was made aware of a terrible tragedy. Two miller ponies were murdered by one of these creatures. Until then, Princess Luna and I had never suspected that any Jackals might have survived. But after this unspeakable accident, which prompted further investigation, the truth quickly became clear. The Jackals have found a new King, and they wait, on the brink of return.

It was hardly even a lie at all. And yet, something nesting deep inside the heart of the princess told her not to tell Star Swirl how much she’d known of the Jackals from the beginning; how much she'd known since before Star Swirl had even set hoof in Canterlot for the first time. The two of them had hardly ever spoken with one another, the princess and Star Swirl. And Celestia was uncertain whether or not their relationship had a strong foundation, a foundation that could withstand the buffeting gales of honesty.

She would not chance it. Star Swirl’s studies mattered too much. If Star Swirl learned that Celestia had known about the Jackals all along… If he learned that she needed his talents for magical defense… If his hesitance toward the Princess had a chance to fester into something else… That might become a problem very quickly.

She finished her letter with some statement on the swift response that would inevitably come, a further commendation of Star Swirl’s bravery in the face of adversity, and she signed the letter, Your friend and teacher, Princess Celestia.

The quill fell. She looked over the letter.

I need his trust, she thought. I need the trust of every pony in Equestria. But sometimes, trust can be so difficult to come by…

Princess Celestia knew that she was more than the Day Bringer. She was a beacon of peace and balance to ponies the world over. They expected more than success from the Princess of the Sun. They expected greatness.

If only Princess Luna’s talents and duties were displayed in the open light of day, as Celestia’s were. Then perhaps she might have been afforded the same attention. But it was not so. Celestia felt the weight of hope on her shoulders, hers alone.

They call upon me to be their pillar of strength. And so, I shall be.

At whatever the cost.

Her horn lit yellow, and with a flash of fire, the letter was gone.

The next morning’s air was warm and still. The sky was clear, a soft mist rolled over the hills, and Star Swirl awoke.

There had not been much sleep for him the previous night.

Star Swirl had waited by the Dragon’s Tongue for half an hour before his reply had materialized in the green fire. He had read, and suddenly nothing was the same.

The worst part of it all was that there was so little Star Swirl could do. He could only stay in Whither’s Hollow, to ensure the safety of his friends. The rest, he would have to trust to Princess Celestia. And that was difficult.

That waiting, that looming foreboding of helplessness, had stretched Star Swirl thin that night between waking and sleeping. But the morning had come, and with it, there was more to be done.

The first rays of dawn broke through the windows. Star Swirl donned his cloak and hat, braced himself for the world, and opened the door of the cabin.

He stopped. Out on the grass before his door stood Pan. There was no flute being played that morning. Pan stood there, stiff and anxious, as Star Swirl appeared in the doorway. Pan looked at him, somehow disturbed. Star Swirl blinked.

“Pan,” he said. “Good morning. I’m sorry, I didn’t expect to see you out here so early.”

“No, of course, I didn’t mean to bother you,” said Pan, his eyes falling. “It’s just… I’m sorry, I couldn’t wait. What every pony is saying… Is it true? The monster?”

Star Swirl saw Pan’s eyes glaze, he sensed his fear. He descended from the doorway and approached Pan. “There’s no need to worry, I assure you,” he said. “The creature was dealt with. The princess sent a regiment of the Royal Guard. They should be here by – ”

“Wait,” said Pan. “I meant, I heard that you… fought it. I needed to know. Are you all right? You aren’t hurt?”

Star Swirl stared at Pan for a moment, lost. Then he returned to himself. “Oh, not at all, Pan, I’m absolutely fine. It was just a, uh, minor confrontation. I have no battle scars to show for it, I assure you.”

A smile floated behind Pan’s wide eyes. “Well, that’s good. That you’re all right, I mean.”

Star Swirl hesitated, only the slightest of inhibitions left flickering inside him; and then he overcame them and put his hoof on Pan’s shoulder. “Thank you, Pan,” he said.

And by unspoken consent, the two of them began their walk into town.

As they made their way off of Blackwood Road, something caught Star Swirl’s eye. He looked, and just a little ways away from the road, there stood two tall white ponies, solemn, unreadable. They stood facing the dark wall of Blackwood Forest, clad in sheets of dull golden armor, their gazes unwavering, their shadows long. Royal Guards.

“Good,” Star Swirl murmured. “That is good.”

Pan glanced sideways at the guards, and promptly quickened his step.

As they ventured deeper into town, the two stopped. “Pan,” said Star Swirl, “I’m sorry, I hope you’ll excuse me. I must go speak with Lily.”

“Oh.” Pan nodded. “Sure thing. I need to go find Emory, ask a few more questions…”

Star Swirl turned and started in the direction of The Blue Rose.

“Star Swirl?”

The voice pulled him back. Star Swirl stopped and turned again to face Pan.

“Yes, Pan?”

“You really do care for Lily, don’t you?”

Star Swirl blinked. Pan's face was curious, but somehow, difficult to read. And Star Swirl could not help but answer honestly.

“I think I do,” he said.

Star Swirl smiled. And then he turned and made again for The Blue Rose, Pan gazing after him.

The ponies of Whither’s Hollow were hushed as they busied themselves across the streets. They tried to push life on, but still; there had been an incident. Gossip bubbled and boiled. Something was skulking about, something with teeth and a terrible howl. Would it stay in the forest? Was it already waiting in some poor pony’s basement, for the sun to fall? Was there more than one? What, why, how? No pony dared speak too loudly.

Star Swirl was surprised to find The Blue Rose closed. He looked into the window for signs of light or life, but there was nothing.

It is unlike her, he thought, but perhaps she decided to stay home today. I’m sure many ponies have hardly the courage to walk the streets after –

“Star Swirl!”

He whirled around, and Lily came bounding behind him, out of breath, sleepy eyed.

Star Swirl approached her in the street, watching her carefully; she seemed about to fall over. “Lily,” he said, “are you all right?”

Lily stopped for a moment to catch her breath, and then there was a change in the sound of her air. After a moment, Star Swirl realized she was laughing.

Lily wiped her eyes. “Of course you’d ask that!” she cried. “You magic-away some mysterious beastie from a dark dimension, and you’re asking me if I’m all right? Heavens, Star Swirl, I’m not sure I’ll ever understand you…”

“You look tired.”

“Ah, well, after all the hoopla last night, I got to bed so late, I slept in – I’m sorry, I should have been open twenty minutes ago. But you know, something tells me that not many ponies are interested in buying flowers today.”

Star Swirl glanced around. The solemnity in the air was quite unlike anything he’d ever felt in this town. He turned back to Lily.

“Yes,” he said, “about that… I know that you wanted to find some flowers in the forest today – ”

“Don’t tell me. Blackwood is out of bounds for the foreseeable future?”

Star Swirl nodded. “Yes. Even with my magic, there’s no telling how safe you’d be in there. I’m sorry, Lily, but we can’t – ”

Lily laughed again; a bit of life was finding its way back into her eyes. “No need to be sorry, Star,” she said. “I figured as much. Actually, I half expected you to drag me in there anyway, just to fulfill some kind of promise. Then I’d be the one keeping you away from some mysterious beastie.”

Star Swirl looked at the ground and chuckled. “Yes, I guess that’s right.”

They looked at one another, and the laughter faded into a mellow hum in the air. Their eyes lingered. And then the moment was over, and Star Swirl cleared his throat.

“So,” he said.

“So.”

“If you still aren’t busy today… Maybe we could take a walk over by the river? There might not be any flowers, but there aren’t any murderous wolf-creatures, either.”

Lily grinned. “I think I can squeeze you in. Lead on, oh Vanquisher of Unlikely Adversaries.”

And together they walked.

The riverside was green and deserted, the sky was open blue, and the water was glass. Star Swirl and Lily followed the curve of the river, chatting and chuckling. And for some moments, they were content just to look around and watch how the sun made the colors dance.

“You know what I like best about this town?” Lily said. “It reminds me of home.”

“You’ve never mentioned your old home before.”

“Well, I didn’t stay too long. Oh, it was a perfectly happy childhood; I just had things to do. Still do, you know.”

“Things?” Star Swirl asked.

They approached a massive old maple tree, standing lonely by the river, its branches wide, the shade it cast, a soft dark green. They passed under it, and Star Swirl felt its cool.

“Oh yes,” Lily said. “Big, important things. Bizarre things, shocking things! Things that would turn your coat white!”

Star Swirl’s eyebrows went up. Lily smiled at him sideways.

“See?” she said. “I can be just as mysterious as you, Mr. Magical Unicorn from over the hills and past the edge of the world.”

Star Swirl stopped in the shade. Lily stopped with him.

“Is that so?” he said, the ghost of a grin hanging about him. “Let’s stop here for a moment. I’d like to hear more about these ‘things’ of yours.” He sat down, leaning against the tree trunk, and placed his blue pointed hat down beside him. “I’m ready to be beguiled with tales of your fancy.”

Lily looked down at him a moment, surprised, and then burst out laughing.

“I don’t understand, Lily!” he said, joining in the laughter. “You laugh at everything!”

“I can’t help it, Star Swirl!” Lily cried, collapsing beside him under the tree. “Everything is just so funny! You, most of all. I was just thinking, remembering the Star Swirl that first set hoof in my shop. He was a quiet thing, severe, unsure of himself and every pony around him. But now – look at this Star Swirl who sits before me! Wise cracking, tongue-in-cheek. I’d like to think I’ve rubbed off on you a bit. I’m actually rather proud of myself, truth be told.”

Star Swirl bowed his head, warmth in his face. “You’re changing the subject,” he said. “I’m still waiting to hear about your earliest adventures.”

“Yes, well,” Lily said, her laugh quieting, “truthfully, there isn’t much to tell. Flowers were all I ever wanted. Well, no, that’s not true. Flowers, and a little bit of adventure. A little bit of open road, a new face to smile at, a new puzzle to solve. I knew very early on, what I wanted. I trust you’ve noticed my cutie mark?”

“… A blue rose.”

“I was one of the first fillies in my class to get her cutie mark. It’s not much of a story, really. I had an aunt. She only ever visited once, and she’s dead by now. But that day when she came… Oh, the excitement of it! She came galloping over the hills to my parent’s little house. She was so kind and warm and lovely, she made us her own special tea… And she taught me to plant a garden. She took me out behind our house one day during her visit, and we cleared a bit of earth, and we sowed some seeds, and she told me all about the different colors that would sprout – silver and gold and ruby and all that. She never spoke much about herself, my Auntie, but in the evenings, I asked my parents all about her, and they told me what they could. She’d come from very far away, they said, and she’d been to many places and seen many things. I asked, ‘What kinds of things?’ And they replied, ‘Things that you would have to see for yourself to believe.’

“Finally, the day came when she had to leave; and the flowers in our little garden hadn’t come up yet. Oh, was I upset! I stamped my hooves and cried and sniffled. My parents told me to quiet down, pull myself together so I could say goodbye to my aunt. But Auntie only smiled down at me with that lovely smile of hers. And then, as if by magic, she held in her hoof the tiniest, most intricate little blue rose I’d ever seen in my life. And then she left. And then… I had my cutie mark.”

Lily closed her eyes, smiling in the light skipping off the surface of the river. Star Swirl looked at her. She sighed.

“I probably still have that rose around somewhere,” she said, opening her eyes, “pressed between the pages of a book. It’s not the most exciting story. But it’s mine.”

There was quiet. Lily turned to Star Swirl, the river lingering in her eyes. “Sorry,” she said. “I know, I talk too much.”

“No, Lily.” Star Swirl met her gaze. “Of course you don’t. Not at all.”

“And what about you, Star Swirl?” Lily picked up Star Swirl’s hat, toying with the pointy bit. “I’ve done more than enough talking for one walk. How did things begin for you?”

Star Swirl looked off over the river, up into the void of the sky. “Oh, my beginnings weren’t so wonderful as all that…”

Lily put down the hat. “Surely, there must be a reason. For you, for your magical studies. I’ve never known passion to pop right out of thin air.”

Star Swirl did not smile.

“It was not a…harmonious beginning,” he said. “I was so very young back then. I had always been strange to the other little ponies. And I will not lie to you, Lily; they were strange to me. My parents were concerned for me. I began to cultivate what I felt was my greatest talent – magic. It wasn’t long before… Before every pony realized just how different I was. My mother wanted nothing more than to help me. And then… and then there was my father.

“I don’t remember much of my father. Even before he left, I didn’t see much of him. He avoided me, you see. Me, my Problem, my magic… he was a traditional stallion, an earth pony, and he was appalled with me. My mother tried to make him see otherwise. He could not, and he left.

“I can do many things with magic, Lily. I suppose that I’ve always tried to… to make things right with magic. I’m not sure I ever will.”

Star Swirl took a breath and turned back to Lily. Her smile was gone. Her eyes glistened. Star Swirl could not bear that, and he looked away again.

“Please, Lily, no pity,” he said. “It is such an awful thing, pity. I think I’d rather be a colt of action. As they say: If magic is not the answer, then no answer exists."

Lily’s voice was quiet. “Is that what they say?” she said.

Something in her voice, the fragility of it, the honest plainness of the question, wrenched him. He blinked away a veil. “It’s what… some unicorns say…”

He could not contain himself, and he turned back to her, and their eyes met again, both of them trying so hard to understand.

“Lily,” he said, “… I am working on a spell.”

“A spell? What kind of a spell?”

“I’ve been laboring on it for years now. It’s something to solve my… my Problem.”

Lily just looked on for a moment. Then she slowly nodded. “I see,” she said. “Your… Problem…”

She reached out and took Star Swirl’s hoof in hers.

Star Swirl felt the pressure on his hoof, and something told him to pull away, but he could not. He could not even look away from her eyes.

“Listen to me, Star Swirl,” Lily said. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that you feel as if you’ve lived separate from the world. I’m sorry for whatever Problem you think you have. But I should tell you, Star… You don’t need a spell to find your place in the world. And there isn’t a problem in all of existence that can’t be solved without another pony’s help.”

She smiled a small, tender smile. “If you need any help,” she said, “… I can be there, if you’d like.”

Star Swirl tried to measure himself, to keep his head high, but still the tears came. He tried not to shake. Lily extended her other hoof.

And the two of them embraced.

Star Swirl’s storm raged inside him. He blinked, he swallowed, he fought for breath. “Lily…”

“Yes, Star?”

“It’s just… It’s only…”

Star Swirl gently pulled away. And they faced each other again. Star Swirl managed a smile.

“Thank you, Lily,” he said, ashamed of his tears, and glad for them. “No pony has said that to me before. I can be there, too, if you need me. In any way I can be. I am just… so very grateful to have met you.”

And they embraced each other again.

Lily and Star Swirl stayed there for some time, under that lonely maple on the riverside. And somehow, they both knew something had happened that was very, very right.

Letters and Night Terrors

The sky darkened, the stars began to kindle, and Princess Luna took to the balcony of her bed chamber, surveying Canterlot, the surrounding countryside, the ocean-black horizon line.

There was a stillness in the sky. No wind, pulling and tossing at the princess’s starry blue mane. And a heavy quiet.

Princess Luna looked to the skies, past the stars and the inky veil. And the moon rose.

A new moon.

It was always troubling to her, raising a new moon. Empty. The moon was normally a light and a life for the night, just as the sun was for the day. And though the cycle could not, ought not, be broken, to raise a new moon seldom felt like raising the moon at all. It was like puncturing a hole in the sky. It was somehow cold, somehow fearful and uncertain.

Somehow dead.

Luna stared at the empty black sphere of the moon, blotting out the stars. She shivered.

I shall keep watch, as I always do. That is important tonight.

And night swept over all.

As the day closed, Star Swirl returned to the familiar warmth of thirty-three Blackwood Road. He cast aside his hat, he lit the lamps, and he sat down at his desk, eyes glazing. He simmered and he wondered, and never did his mind wander far from the riverside.

He did not know what to feel. Such a day. Should he feel happy, should he exalt and bask in the glow of the wonderful and mysterious bonfire in his chest? Should he be confused, should he drown in the anticipations and the worries and the uncertainties of daring to care strongly for anything at all? Or should he be afraid? Afraid of what is not known, of the portions of the world that lie unexplored and unmapped?

He sighed; a slow, shallow sound.

Things between Lily and I… Things might be advancing at a pace I did not expect.

And is that such a bad thing?

Star Swirl stood from his chair. He walked over to the stone fireplace, and with a flash from his horn the fire roared to life, filling the room with yellow and red. He began to pace the floor – and a new thought stopped him cold.

I don’t know what to do.

Star Swirl had trained himself as a thinker, first and foremost. Always, he examined the options, he deliberated, and he chose the best course. That, he had always thought, was the path to wisdom. But in the case of his feelings for Lily, every course Star Swirl could see before him either tied his stomach in knots, filled him up too full, or drained him too empty.

And there was only ever one pony that Star Swirl could turn to for advice. And that was Princess Luna.

Princess Luna was more than just a teacher to Star Swirl. She was a guide to him, perhaps the first pony he had ever built a long-lasting trust with. But the topic of mares had never exactly been one of great importance to Star Swirl’s early tutelage. But anyhow, he could not reach her now. Unless, of course…

Star Swirl’s eyes shifted to the Dragon’s Tongue, still burning green on his desk.

It’s clear that the Dragon’s Tongue sends messages to Canterlot Palace, he thought. There’s no doubt of that. So what harm would there be in sending a letter, a letter explicitly labeled for and addressed to Princess Luna? Surely, it would fall into her hooves sooner or later.

Unless Princess Celestia intercepts it.

Star Swirl shuddered and returned to the chair at his desk. The notion of Princess Celestia reading a letter intended for her sister, it filled him with something unexpected; exhaustion.

Foolish, foolish, he thought, staring into the pulsating flame of the Dragon’s Tongue. I’m being an utter fool. Why do I have this constant, nagging suspicion of Princess Celestia’s character? It’s childish, it’s absurd. What has she ever done to earn such harsh sentiments? Beyond taking my studies in an… unexpected direction, she’s done me no harm. I’m being stubborn, and arrogant, and…

But try as he might, Star Swirl could not shake the feeling that there was a secret tension between he and Princess Celestia. A glass wall.

Star Swirl tapped the desk with his hoof, thinking, hypnotized by the green light. Abruptly, he conjured up a roll of parchment in front of him. The quill and inkwell magically presented themselves at the top of the roll, eager to serve.

He studied the quill as he held it suspended in midair over the desk. You don’t have to adore her, as every pony else does, he thought. You simply must trust her enough not to snoop through your private letters. Is that so hard?

The quill dipped itself in the inkwell, rose into the air, and descended upon the parchment.

As Star Swirl wrote, a part of him wished that there was some pony else he could write to about Lily. A father. A pony who knew exactly what Star Swirl was feeling, exactly how to help him. But there were no fathers in his life. Only teachers. And that would have to suffice.

Time rushed on, the night grew denser around the cabin, and soon the eager quill set itself down on the desk, taking a well-earned rest.

Star Swirl magically held the parchment before him and reviewed his work.

Dear Princess Luna,

I apologize that I have not thought to write you during my stay in Whither’s Hollow. That was silly of me, I know; “Never forget the elegance of the obvious,” as you once told me.

I write to you on the subject of my investigations into the magic of Friendship. If I may say so, I believe that I have come very far in my studies. Princess Celestia told me before I left Canterlot Palace that through friendship, I might both make discoveries about others, and about myself. That, I think, has proven to be true.

There is one pony in particular whom I am getting along famously with. Her name is Lily, and unless I am mistaken, what lies between us may be strengthening into something beyond friendship. I do not mean to burden you with my dilemmas; but I find myself at a loss, and there is no pony I would trust more to assist me than you, Princess.

The Bicentennial Celebration of Whither’s Hollow is the day after tomorrow. It is a celebration that has been months in the making, and an event that is a great source of pride for the ponies of this town. (It seems strange, I know, that Whither’s Hollow should still be so occupied with its bicentennial in the wake of the Jackal incident. But it means a great deal to a great many ponies here.) I spent today with Lily, and before the day was out, I asked her if she would like to accompany me to the celebration, and she said yes. And tomorrow, I will be meeting Lily at her flower shop in the morning, and we shall spend the day together.

I am writing to you now, Princess, because I do not know how to go about this. I am always at ease when I am around her, but now, as I write, I’m afraid that I’m a bundle of nerves, and I hardly know why.

Lily leaves me in a puzzlement, Princess Luna. She

And there, Star Swirl had stopped writing.

The fire was beginning to die down. Star Swirl placed the letter back on the desk and rubbed his temples with his hooves.

Heavens above, what do I even mean to say? There are some things that are difficult to put into words, some questions that are difficult to ask.

Star Swirl sighed. His horn sparked, and around the cabin, all the lamps and candles softly extinguished themselves, leaving smoke and shadow in their wake. Only the fire and the Dragon’s Tongue survived.

It is late, Star Swirl thought, rising from the chair. My mind is fogged. I shall close my eyes for a time, I shall refresh my mind. And then, before the morning comes, I will send my letter to Princess Luna. It will probably require a second draft, anyhow.

Star Swirl wandered into the bedroom. He let his cloak fall to the floor and climbed into bed. And within moments, sleep overtook him.

The quiet settled in. And as the Shadows moved outside, free and reckless under the moonless sky, the fire’s glow weakened, dimming, ever dimming.

And when a massive black paw began quietly scraping the door of thirty-three Blackwood Road, the last of the solemn red coals had all but vanished.

Star Swirl dreamt.

In his dream, he stood at the edge of a forest. It was nighttime, and a wide full moon blazed above him, a watery star, taking up much of the sky; a fifth of the firmament at least. No, a quarter. No stars shone.

The forest which loomed before him was not Blackwood Forest, he could tell that instantly. This was a place of an entirely different character. A wilder place. The crooked branches and the tangled vines twisted every which way, maniacal and fearless. The treetops were cold and pale under the heavy beams of the titan moon, and beyond their trunks, the forest was ever so deep, ever so black and infinite.

Star Swirl stood there, looking into the depths of the forest. Somehow, he knew he had to go inside. He had lost something important; what was it? His hat, his cloak? Star Swirl could not tell. But whatever he had lost, he knew where to find it. He knew where his path led. Deep into the woods, into the labyrinth and the abyss.

He took a step back from the forest’s edge. This was not a forest he wanted to adventure in.

Suddenly, up above him – a face appeared in the moon. The face of a unicorn. Star Swirl watched as the features began to solidify, as the image grew clearer, and when its eyes came into focus, he recognized it. Princess Luna.

“Star Swirl,” she called from the sky.

Star Swirl called back, “Hello, Princess. Please tell me, why am I here? This place is strange to me…”

“Star Swirl, listen to me carefully. Nothing is real. You are asleep now. You are dreaming. This is a dream.”

“… A dream, Princess? But it is all so real. I can feel your moonlight on my face – ”

“Please, Star Swirl, there is no time – you must wake up. They are coming for you, and the moon is dark, I cannot save you. Understand, this is nothing but a dream.”

Something began to move in the forest, far away, noiseless. Coming closer. Fast.

Star Swirl felt a tremor steal over him. Something was not right. “Nothing but a dream,” he muttered.

The voice in the moon rose. “Star Swirl – wake up! There is no time! They are so close now, abandon this dream, wake up!”

“Nothing but a dream…”

The thing in the forest drew nearer. Burning black eyes, gazing out at him. Burning black eyes, all around him.

“Star Swirl!” cried the moon. “They are inside! Wake up!”

Nothing but a dream.

“WAKE UP.”

Star Swirl awoke.

He leapt from his bed, breathing fast, scrambling for balance. No light, only impenetrable night all around him.

His horn blazed to life, a brilliant, blinding white, filling the room, ripping all veils aside.

The room was empty. It was only he, his bed, and his dresser.

Star Swirl stood there, still as the grave, and listened.

There was no sound. No creak of the floorboards, no crackle of the fire.

Slowly, eyes wide, Star Swirl made his way to the open door of the bedroom. Each hoof step on the wooden floor was a hammer-fall in the perilous stillness, his breath, a roaring wind.

He looked out into the short, empty hallway that led to the front of the cabin. He walked the short distance of the hallway, saw the dead coals in the fireplace, saw the green candle-flame flicker; he turned the corner, he cast his light on the cabin wall –

The front door stood wide open.

An invisible icy dagger cut open Star Swirl’s brain, and without knowing what he was doing, his already blazing horn flashed, and all the candles and lamps in the cabin burst into life, even the weary coals of the fireplace bloomed with red hot life. Light, as much light as Star Swirl could manage.

He ran to the door, he peered out, his horn sending waves of piercing white out into the countryside. He swept over the world with his horn and his eyes, the grassy hills, the forest –

There. At the forest’s edge. Was that something moving? Something dark, disappearing into the dense woods. A trick of the eye, perhaps. Or perhaps…

Star Swirl retreated back inside and slammed the door.

The cabin was a beacon of light now, but Star Swirl’s heart would not be still. Slowly at first, and then with mounting intensity, he searched the cabin – the washroom, underneath the bed, the table, every cranny he could think of. But there was nothing to be found, and still Star Swirl could not stop a cold sweat from coating his fur.

He stood in the middle of the living room, unsure what to do next, unable to stop his eyes from roaming, roaming over the fireplace, the sofa, everything. He tried to breathe properly. His eyes, now beginning to remember their exhaustion, fell on his desk, tucked away by the wall.

And there, under the haunting glow of the Dragon’s Tongue, Star Swirl’s fear was realized.

The letter was gone.

Princess Luna flew down the staircases and hallways of Canterlot Palace, a hurricane, blasting past the paintings and the coats of arms on the walls. The palace was so hollow, with so many guards gone; only Luna and Celestia truly remained in the enormous, endless fortress.

Luna’s wings were swift, her veins, bloodless. There could be no stopping, no slowing down, she must fly faster, faster –

She arrived at the door of Celestia’s chamber.

Luna landed and burst through the door, calling out, “Sister! Wake up! Star Swirl is in grave – ”

But there were lights on already in the chamber, and there Celestia stood beside her bed, a figure of grim marble. Reading a note, magically suspended in the air.

Luna rushed forward. “Is that from – ”

“Read it.” Celestia shifted the note in front of Luna.

Luna read:

Princess Celestia:

Cabin was attacked by Jackals. Unsure if Whither’s Hollow is safe. Unsure of next course of action.

Star Swirl

Celestia went quickly to her desk. “Did you see, Luna?” she asked. “What happened?”

“I saw the Jackals surround the cabin,” said Luna, flying to Celestia’s side. “Star Swirl was asleep, dreaming, and I awoke him. When the dream ended, he passed from my sight.”

Celestia began scratching a note with quill and ink:

Star Swirl, are you harmed? What happened?

Celestia’s horn sent the note up in flames, and it instantly vanished.

“The Jackals,” Celestia said, “what were they doing? Vicious as they are, they would not attack a unicorn who had bested one of their own in battle.”

“Nearly bested one of their own,” said Luna. “That fight could have very differently very easily, if Star Swirl had not been saved by the sun.”

“What do you mean?”

“They are foolish, primal creatures, the Jackals – but we both know that they have intelligence enough to understand the concept of revenge.”

Poof – a budding fire flashed over Celestia’s desk, and onto it fell another note.

The two princesses read:

I am unhurt. But something was stolen. An unfinished letter to Princess Luna.

Celestia and Luna froze. Then again, Celestia’s quill began to madly scribble on a new square of parchment:

What did you say in your letter?

More fire, and the letter went up in smoke.

Luna spoke quietly. “If he mentioned either of us in this stolen letter, Whither’s Hollow is not safe for him. He must leave…”

Celestia said nothing.

Luna leaned in closer to her. “Celestia,” she said. “Do you hear what I say?”

Fire flashed, a letter landed on the desk. They read.

I wrote of both you and your sister, as my mentors.

Celestia and Luna hardly dared breathe. Luna searched for words.

“Write him back,” she said, “telling him that Whither’s Hollow is no longer safe. Tell him why. And don’t you dare hesitate, sister. I will not let anything happen to Star Swirl. He mustn’t be hurt.”

Celestia looked up at her sister.

“No,” she said. “He mustn’t be.”

The quill went to work.

Star Swirl stood at the desk, unable to sit, unable to do anything but write, burn, wait, and read. So he waited, staring at the Dragon’s Tongue, everything around him a terrible, terrible dream –

The green fire flared; another piece of parchment flew into the air and landed on the desk. Star Swirl looked down at it, wiping the cold sweat from his brow with a shivering hoof.

You must leave Whither’s Hollow immediately. Now that the Jackals have learned that you know Luna and I, they will come after you. They will try to hurt my sister and I through you. They will kill you if they can, and if you let your guard down for an instant when the lights are out, they can and they will. You will return to Canterlot Palace immediately. See no pony, speak to no pony, leave as quickly as you can. The sun will be up shortly. A carriage will be waiting for you on the road when it rises. Do not leave the cabin until then.

Star Swirl read over the note twice, deciphering the text like ancient, nameless hieroglyphics, gleaning meaning from the tilting world around him.

At last he understood. His quill dipped itself in ink and started to write again.

I cannot leave. I cannot abandon Whither’s Hollow. I must stay, to help and to guard these ponies. They are my friends now.

He burned the letter. A response was swift; moments later, a new letter materialized, and Star Swirl read.

As of tonight, the Jackals want you, Star Swirl, not Whither’s Hollow. The moon will begin to wax again tomorrow night, so Luna will return to her post. The Royal Guard keeps vigil. The ponies of Whither’s Hollow are under no immediate threat. But you are. While you stay, you endanger them. You must meet the carriage at sunrise. For the sake of your friends.

Star Swirl burned inside. He turned from the desk to collect himself, but he could not. He recognized wisdom when it crossed his path. He knew that the princess was in the right.

But to leave. To leave the first real home he’d had in so very long.

There’s no choice, he thought. Damn it all, there’s no choice.

Star Swirl heard the sound of the flaring candle flame behind him. A new note. He did not want to turn around and read it, not at all. But he did so all the same.

Do not worry about packing your things. I will send Canterlot representatives to collect them in the upcoming days.

Star Swirl considered a response, but he could only stand there, marveling at the speed of change. Hours ago, life had been new and beautiful. Now it was cracking. Of all the things that Star Swirl thought and felt, not one of those things did he have the strength to put on paper. And so he stood there, leaning on the desk, eyes closed.

A new note flew from the green flame and fluttered down to the desk.

Star Swirl. Everything will be all right.

Unsure whether or not he believed it, Star Swirl took the quill into the grasp of his magic again and wrote his last message.

Very well. Thank you, Princess Celestia.

He burned it.

And he began the long wait for morning.

The last long hour passed, and light began to bleed over the horizon.

In his hat and cloak, Star Swirl left thirty-three Blackwood Road as soon as the first beams of morning hit his door. And then he was off, off in the direction of the town line.

He kept his cloak close – the sun had risen, but morning chill lingered in the air, and Star Swirl felt it in his bones, in his breath. He mounted the grassy hill that would lead him to the rest of Blackwood Road, and climbed to its crest.

And there, where the forgotten, overgrown dirt path met the well-kept road, stood Pan.

They both started at the sight of each other. “Star Swirl!” said Pan. “Good morning. You’re up awfully early, I didn’t expect you… to…”

Pan looked at Star Swirl, noticed his rigidity, the peculiar look in his eyes, and he paused. “Star,” Pan said, “are you all right? Is something wrong?”

Star Swirl swallowed. “You shouldn’t be here, Pan,” he said, slowly descending from the hill. “It’s only just past dawn. Go home and sleep a little while longer.”

“Star Swirl… you’re trembling. What’s the matter?”

They met each other on the grass. Star Swirl looked into Pan’s eyes, and told him as much truth as he could.

“I’m leaving, Pan.”

Pan did not seem to understand, not even to hear the words. He blinked. “You mean you’re… Star Swirl, what is it that you mean?”

“I must leave, Pan. I must leave Whither’s Hollow.”

Star Swirl watched, and before his eyes, Pan grasped the words. “Oh,” said Pan. “I didn’t know that… Why are… When are you coming back?”

Star Swirl could not stand it, the ache in his heart; he lowered his head and walked past Pan. “I’m sorry, Pan,” he said, voice breaking, “I have to leave. As long as I’m here, there’ll be danger for you all –”

“That’s not true!”

Star Swirl stopped and turned. There was a strength in Pan’s voice that Star Swirl had not heard before. Pan’s chest heaved, his eyes watered.

“No, that couldn’t be farther from the truth!” Pan cried. “Ever since you’ve gotten here, I’ve – Things have been better, and it’s because of you. You can’t leave, without a word, without a goodbye. Please, listen to me!”

Star Swirl was transfixed. Pan’s tears began to well up.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” said Pan, “but since you’ve arrived… things have been better. You’re one of the only ponies who’s ever bothered to be my friend. My cutie mark, Star – it’s a flute, and that’s all. It’s not a secret passion, like Emory’s cutie mark, and it’s not a call to adventure, like Lily’s. I play the flute. I make music. That’s what I have, that’s all I ever had. Not friends, seldom friends, seldom anyone to care about. When friends do come into my life… even just ponies who would let me walk them into town in the mornings… it’s something very important. Don’t leave, Star Swirl. I care for you. Please don’t leave…”

He stopped, the words catching in his throat. Pan looked at Star Swirl, trying to make him understand the rest with his eyes alone – that Star Swirl was more than anything Pan had ever hoped to have.

Through the haze of battling feelings, something new rose up in star Swirl; confusion. He peered at Pan, a small pony, eyes wide, utterly vulnerable.

Pan's eyes fell to the ground. “I'm sorry,” he said, hardly a whisper, “I've said too much, I've… Please, try to understand…”

And yes, Star Swirl could understand, he could read the writing etched in Pan’s heart, and it warmed him and wounded him all at once.

Star Swirl turned away from Pan, away from the questions he could not answer, and continued down the road. Over his shoulder, he called gently:

“Goodbye, Pan.”

He walked on, his gaze forward, unfaltering, his lip trembling. And before he’d gone a dozen steps, a weak voice behind him called out:

“Star Swirl. Will you come back?”

For one last time, Star Swirl stopped.

“I don’t know,” he said. And he knew that Pan had heard him.

And so Star Swirl went on his way, leaving a small brown earth pony to fear and cry and wonder in his wake.

Star Swirl quickly went through the town, before any ponies were up and about to see him. Soon he had left the bulk of the buildings behind him, and he found himself on a long dirt path leading nowhere in particular. He passed the sign that bore the legend, “Welcome to Whither’s Hollow; Population: 1,214,” and he knew that the town was behind him.

One day, Pan… Emory… Lily… I will come back to you. And I will set things right for us all. I’m sorry that I must leave you now. And I’m sorry, Lily, that I could not keep our appointment… But I will be back. And I will set everything right.

He found the silver carriage, towed by pegasi. He boarded. It bore him up into the icy winds of the endless sky, and he was gone.

Lily made certain to open The Blue Rose on time that morning.

As she flipped over the sign on the door to read “Open,” she could not help but hum a tune. How could she not, when life could prove so unexpected, and so extraordinary?

She watered the plants that needed watering, she tended the flowers that needed tending, and her melody welled up within her, filling the room.

Lily stood behind her counter and waited. Outside, she heard the town come to life, and she was happy.

And she did not have long to wait before the front door of the shop swung open; a visitor had come. The most impossible of all visitors; the last pony in the whole of creation who could have, should have been there. But all the same, the pony had come, just to pay a visit to Lily’s little shop.

Ding.

Return to Canterlot Palace

Star Swirl watched from the window of the carriage as the towers of Canterlot Palace rose over the horizon, white and gold and washed red by the sunset.

The journey had passed like a daydream, at once instantaneous and lingering. Star Swirl felt ever so slightly out of sync with reality as the silver chariot bore him ever closer to the gates of the palace, as if one hoof were still planted on the firm-set earth of Whither’s Hollow. He could not sleep, and he could hardly stay awake.

At last he felt the carriage begin its descent. Star Swirl closed his eyes as he made his fall back down to the world.

The carriage landed, the whistling wind hushed. Star Swirl opened his eyes. He opened the door and stepped outside.

The carriage had made its landing just outside the gates of Canterlot Palace. In front of the gate, solemn and stony-faced, two guards stood. Star Swirl gave the white stallions a nod.

Behind Star Swirl, the silver carriage turned and wheeled away, back up into the sky.

A guard stepped forward. “Star Swirl,” he said. “On behalf of their Highnesses Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, I extend a warm welcome to you, upon your return to Canterlot Palace. Their Highnesses trust that your journey was a peaceful one.”

“I wish to speak with Princess Luna.”

“Princess Luna is unable to see visitors at the moment. She has informed us that the strength of the moon will be of particular importance in the upcoming nights, and thus she is preoccupied with her duties. Princess Luna did wish for us to tell you, however, that she is very anxious to speak with you in the morning.”

Star Swirl cast his eyes about, listened. The castle was much more still, much more quiet than he’d remembered. He adjusted the neck of his robe. “I see,” he said. “And Princess Celestia?”

“Both of the princesses wish for you to retire early, after your long journey.”

Star Swirl stared at the guard. “I am being sent up to bed, then?”

The second guard stepped forward.

“Sir,” he said, “if I may be so bold as to say so, the princesses have been under an extraordinary strain as of late. Their Highnesses have instructed us to welcome you to the palace, and escort you to your chamber. We will take you inside presently, sir.”

Star Swirl looked up at the shadowy turrets and spires of the palace. The duties of the princesses, he thought. There are always fires across Equestria that need putting out, that much I know. But something here does not sit well with me.

Star Swirl looked back to the second guard. “Thank you for your hospitality,” he said, with a slight bow of the head. “Lead on, if you will.”

Soon the guards were gone, and Star Swirl stood inside a room which he found all too familiar.

It was a circular room, set high up in one of the western towers. There were shelves of books, and a table equipped with ink and quills and empty scrolls, and a crystal ball on a stand in the corner, and all the things an aspiring unicorn could possibly need. Star Swirl took a deep breath of the old air and sighed.

Those books on the shelves, he thought. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen them before; nowhere but here, in this room. I wonder if I shall read them in my lifetime. I would now… I would walk over to the nearest shelf, take down a book, and lose myself for the night. But I’m tired now. I might still have a chance, I think. To discover those books. One day.

Star Swirl cast aside his cloak and hat, slowly climbed into bed, and sank quickly into comfortable dreamlessness.

Morning broke, and Star Swirl rose from bed. He donned his cloak and hat in the horizontal light of the window and left his room, making his way down the steep winding steps.

And halfway down, he met Princess Luna.

There she stood on the stair, unchanged, just as Star Swirl remembered her, just as he’d seen her for all his studies of the past ten years. Princess Luna did not change. He had seen this, he knew this to be true. The brilliant blue of her starry mane and fur, the grace, the benevolence, the agelessness. Princess Luna did not change. And that was a comfort to him.

“Hello, Princess Luna,” Star Swirl said. “It’s good to see you again.”

Princess Luna climbed the steps. She smiled as best she could. “Star Swirl,” she said. “I was just coming up to meet you. Are you all right? How was your trip? Did you rest well?”

“I’m fine, Princess, just fine. Everything is… well… I’m fine.”

The princess put a wing around Star Swirl, and for a ghostly passing moment, he allowed himself to be comforted.

“Come,” said Princess Luna. “We have much to talk about.”

The two of them walked together, their hoof steps echoing heavily in the corridors of the palace. The sound was thick in Star Swirl’s ears, somehow tired and lonely. The windows around them dusted the palace with morning.

“I’m sorry that I could not be there to receive you last night, Star Swirl,” said the Princess. “But there is so very little moon these nights, and now that you’re safe back here in the palace, I must make sure to cast my eye over all of Equestria.”

“I understand,” said Star Swirl.

“I hope that your studies have been fruitful? I’d assumed so, only because you’ve written so little to Princess Celestia. Knowing you, she’d have heard much more news of dissatisfaction than satisfaction.” She smiled. “But one never knows.”

Star Swirl offered a polite laugh. “No, that’s probably true of me,” he said. “But I am pleased with how far I’ve come. With where I am now. I feel that I might be changing, Princess. And I’m surprised – I’m not altogether against the changes.”

“Well, if anything, I’m not sure that the Star Swirl I knew would take quite so naturally to wearing a hat such as this pointed oddity.”

Now Star Swirl’s laugh was honest. “I did miss you, Princess.”

“And I you, my faithful student.”

They walked on for a distance in silence. Finally, Princess Luna said:

“You have questions for me.”

Star Swirl nodded. “Yes, Princess.”

“Follow me. I’d like to show you something.”

They took a right, entering a new, high-ceilinged hall. The windows grew fewer and farther between as they walked.

“Princess Luna,” said Star Swirl, “something is different here. The palace seems… quieter than when I was last here. Like something turned to stone.”

“Yes. Canterlot Palace is nearly deserted now. Princess Celestia has long been spreading her forces across Equestria. There are not many ponies to spare for holding doors open in the palace.”

“The Jackals.”

Luna nodded. The two of them took another turn, venturing deeper into the palace, the windows now completely gone. “Things are changing, Star Swirl,” said Princess Luna. “Things shifting and stirring and ready to burst. You know how strong they are. You’ve seen them, you’ve fought them.”

“But surely, they can be defeated. If I alone can fend off one of them, just think of the combined capabilities of the court unicorns. And of yourself, and Princess Celestia! Surely, Equestria can face down this threat.”

Luna’s steps slowed, ever so slightly. As if simply speaking of the Jackals were enough to exhaust her.

“We will face them down, Star Swirl,” she said. “One way or another. But it’s not a simple matter. We’ve tried to beat this foe by sheer strength before. We failed. The proof of that is all around us now.”

They arrived at a tall set of dark double doors. Princess Luna magically pushed them open, and the two of them entered.

The room was mostly bare, with some tables and chairs pushed aside. Spread out over the wall opposing the doors was a large old map of Equestria, variously pinned with small red flags, the sort of decoration one would find in a war room.

Star Swirl approached the map, scanning the flags. Princess Luna came up behind him. “This used to be the royal study,” she said. “It’s been put to some unorthodox use as of late.”

“What is this, Princess?”

“Sightings. Sightings of the Jackals throughout Equestria, marked with red. We’ve been collecting the data that we can, in the hopes of pinpointing a source.”

“A source?”

“Jackals are social creatures. They’ve gathered together in packs across Equestria, but if they can help it, they stick close to their king, their great leader and advisor. The bulk of the Jackals are drawn together by him, united under him. And now we’re searching for their hiding place. Look at the map, Star Swirl. Look for patterns.”

Star Swirl looked. The patterns were difficult to miss. “The sightings,” he said, pacing in front of the map, “seem to radiate out from certain points. Circles on the map, as if there are small packs of Jackals tucked away here and there. But then there’s this massive circle here, this mass of sightings taking up the bulk of Equestria. The king’s pack.”

“And where does this collection of sightings originate from?”

Star Swirl’s eyes skimmed the wall. He watched as the red flags grew denser and denser before him, and finally his eyes came to rest.

“You know this place,” said Princess Luna. “I remember your essays on its magical properties. And yes – it is as remarkable and unexpected as the books say.”

Star Swirl nodded, fixated by the writing on the map. “Everfree Forest,” he said.

“Yes. The hiding place of the king’s pack.”

Star Swirl turned to Luna. “Princess,” he said, “why not gather the forces of Equestria and launch an attack on the forest?”

“No, Star Swirl. Even if the king was not hidden deep in the treacherous magical thorns of Everfree, we could not risk another open battle with the Jackals. We would lose.”

“Even against you and Princess Celestia?”

Princess Luna sighed. She walked past Star Swirl and gazed up at the map.

“This happened before, Star Swirl,” she said. “I know my sister told you, in her letter. But let me tell you more. More about the last time. It was a long, devastating affair for the world. But it was not a war, at least not in the way wars are traditionally perceived. No, there was only ever one real battle in the fight against the Jackals.

“For the most part, we smoked them out where we could, wiping them from the land bit by bit, sending them back to Tartarus. But under their old king, they were confident, full of pride and bloodlust. Dealing with the Jackals bit by bit was foolish, ineffective – like amputating a limb one inch at a time. My sister and I knew that we had to break their spirits to send them back where they came from. We had to break the king. And so we found his lair, his pack, we gathered our soldiers, and we advanced.

“We had intended to use the light of the sun to our advantage. But the day was dark and stormy. Any pegasi we sent up to deal with the cloud cover were swiftly killed by the Jackals. The king’s pack took to the field, the forces of Equestria took to the field, and we fought to end the infestation.

“I’ve seen many battles, Star Swirl. I’ve seen battles between unicorns and battles between pegasi, between dragons and chimeras and draconequi… but the savagery of the Jackals, I’ve only ever seen once on the battlefield. It’s the blood, you see. Pony blood. When they smell it… it drives them to madness. The smell of pony blood is all it takes to extinguish their presence of mind. The battle wore on, the blood thickened in the mud, in the air… Soon, we were hardly fighting creatures of flesh and blood, only demons, ravenous and wild and unstoppable.

“But we killed their king. My sister and I, together, we fought him and killed him. If there had been another way, without all that fighting, all that blood… if there’d been an easier way to restore harmony, we would have taken it. But there are some days when answers are not easy, and harmony comes at a cost. So we killed the king. The Jackals’ spirits broke, even in their blood-drunk ecstasy, and we finished them, and we sent the survivors back to Tartarus. Much was lost. And now we know that we failed. Now, we risk suffering the past all over again.”

The map loomed high over Star Swirl, suddenly somehow vast and ready to fall. Princess Luna turned back to him.

“We await the next letter from King Klav-Mar,” she said. “We do not know if we can trust him, what he truly wants, or if he even exists. But another letter was promised to us, and so we’ve decided to wait. Then, we’ll play what we’ve been dealt, however we can. Perhaps things can be settled peacefully. Perhaps not. But now, we wait.”

“Princess… is there anything more I can do?”

“You’ve done so much already, Star Swirl. Now the duties fall to my sister and I.” She turned to the door. “But come. You must be hungry. We’ll get you some breakfast. And then at midday, Princess Celestia would like an audience with you.”

Star Swirl nodded, and the two left, back into the halls, back to the windows of morning sun.

“Princess Luna,” said Star Swirl, “why does your sister wish to see me?”

“You are her student, and she cares for you.”

“Yes. Of course.”

Princess Luna stopped. “Something is troubling you, Star Swirl.”

Star Swirl looked at the floor, considering. Then he lifted his head, looking Princess Luna squarely in the eye. “Yes, Princess,” he said. “We’ve never spoken about it, but now, I feel compelled to ask… What do you think of your sister?”

Luna looked at him. Something deep in her eyes gleamed, unreadable. She turned and continued down the hall. “That is quite a question, Star Swirl,” she said.

Star Swirl galloped to catch up. “Please, Princess, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be presumptuous. But you never spoke of your sister. All I really know about Princess Celestia is what every pony in Equestria knows. But I suspect that there is more. I did not mean to offend you. I apologize.”

Luna again slowed to a stop. When she looked to Star Swirl this time, there was more of a tenderness in her face. “There’s no need to apologize,” she said. “You’re right. There is more you should know about her. In truth, I wish that you had gotten to know Princess Celestia better before you left for Whither’s Hollow. That the two of you had gotten to know each other. But that is often the way with my sister. She does as she sees fit.”

Star Swirl watched Luna, and could not help but feel that he was seeing her differently. As if a thin curtain had been cast over her. Or drawn away.

Luna blinked at the wall, then returned her attention to Star Swirl. “You ask me what I think of my sister,” she said. “It is a difficult question. But I will tell you, my faithful student. Because I have no pony else to tell… You know our roles, Star Swirl, Princess Celestia is the master of the sun, and I, the moon. We are caretakers of harmony. And yet the natures of our duties stand opposed. Princess Celestia raises the sun for the waking eyes of countless millions of ponies the world over, and so she is loved and exalted. She takes their love to heart. I raise the moon. A night light for late travelers, a glow in Equestria’s bedroom windows. Not quite as obviously magnificent as the burning morning. The ponies of the world see my sister and I very differently, and this is lost on neither of us. They clasp my sister close… and they let me drift away. And now my sister and I drift from each other. What do I think of Princess Celestia? I think she is a thoroughly steadfast, dedicated ruler, and I only wish that one day she will be my sister again.”

The growing yellow light in a nearby window fell on them both. The princess’s gaze frosted over, and she went to the window. Star Swirl looked at Princess Luna carefully, and finally came up slowly alongside her. He spoke delicately.

“Princess Luna,” he said, “there is room for more than one princess in Equestria.”

Princess Luna gave a weak smile, her gaze still locked on the distant sunrise. “Yes, Star Swirl,” she said. “That is true. But sometimes, I wonder.”

Her eyes lingered for an instant, and then she turned from the window, breaking the moment. “I’m sorry, Star Swirl,” she said. “I am keeping you from your breakfast. Come.” And so she turned from the window the two of them continued down the halls of Canterlot Palace.

“But you never did tell me, Star Swirl,” said Princess Luna. “Beyond the Jackals, how are things in Whither’s Hollow? Last night, you wrote that you’ve grown very close to the ponies there.”

“Yes, Princess,” Star Swirl said, aching to mention Lily. But he could not. Writing a letter was one thing. But to speak one’s mind in person was a different matter entirely. Star Swirl carefully searched for an appropriate truth, and smiled when he found one.

“Today,” he said, “is the Bicentennial Celebration of Whither’s Hollow.”

“Is that so!”

“Yes, it was the talk of the town from the minute I arrived, and I’ve been helping to prepare. I’m sure that the festivities are in full swing by now. Oh, Princess, you should have seen some of these preparations! Tents for games and vendors out in the fields, cakes and pastries, and music, and flowers everywhere, and the most wonderful pyrotechnics when the sun goes down. They’re a bit of a surprise, the pyrotechnics; I’m sure that the town will be absolutely delighted with them. Yes, they’ve worked very hard for today. I do hope they’re enjoying themselves.”

“I’m sorry that you could not be there, Star Swirl. It’s no little cause for celebration, two hundred years of survival. It sounds like a day to be remembered.”

“Ah, yes, well… my friends will be there. They will enjoy it, I am sure. And I did help to bring the celebration about, in my own small way. That is consolation enough.”

“Hm.” The princess grinned. “That is wise, Star Swirl. That is the kind of wise that does not come from a book.”

Star Swirl cast his eyes to the floor and returned the grin, half hidden under the wide brim of his hat. “Thank you, Princess,” he said. “That is very kind of you.”

They ventured down the hall, both trailing blue, Star Swirl his great starry cloak and Luna her mane, and for a modest instant, both were satisfied.

It was not long before Star Swirl had taken breakfast in the Canterlot kitchen. And as the short hours inevitably flew, he found himself in another familiar spot – outside the throne room of Canterlot Palace. The last time he had stood outside those double doors, he had expected a new life to begin. And he had not been disappointed.

He stood there waiting, alone, no Royal Guards stationed at the doors this time. He awaited the call of Princess Celestia herself from within, a summons to open the door and see the throne once more. And what would happen then, Star Swirl could not say.

He examined the doors, gleaming silver and white, reaching up to the high ceiling. Star Swirl remembered how impressed he’d been with those doors, how excited and frightened he’d been.

He took a steadying breath. This will be over soon, he thought, and I will be back to my friends. All this madness, the Jackals, the constant danger – it cannot last forever. I speak with Princess Celestia – this time, as cordially as I can – and that will be that.

Star Swirl’s eye caught the specter-like shape of his own reflection in the metal of the door, fuzzy and still, blue and gray. He seldom saw his own reflection. He eyed the watery outline, the pointed hat, the gray head, the sweeping shape of the cloak behind him. Star Swirl looked and thought.

Suddenly a sound tore him from his contemplation, a sound that was sickeningly loud in the hollow palace – galloping hooves, echoing every which way, closer and closer. Star Swirl emerged from his trance and turned to meet the approaching sound.

A small bronze earth pony was running toward him, a small bag slung around his neck, coming up fast. The pony skidded to a halt in front of Star Swirl, did his best to catch his breath, and spoke.

“Am I addressing Star Swirl?” the bronze pony asked.

Star Swirl looked down at the short panting stallion. “Yes, I am he,” Star Swirl said.

The earth pony reached into the small bag slung about his neck and pulled out a square of parchment. “I was told,” said the pony, “to bring this letter directly to you – that it was very urgent.”

Star Swirl eyed the letter in the messenger pony’s extended hoof, the pounding of his heart unusually loud in his ears, his stomach shrinking. Star Swirl magically lifted the letter from the messenger pony’s hoof and held it aloft in the air. The letter unfolded itself. Star Swirl read.

He read it again. And once more.

Star Swirl’s breath was heavy now, shallow and difficult. An icy sweat built up on his brow. Beginning to tremble, he lowered the letter.

This cannot be so, Star Swirl thought, the ink on the page clattering deafeningly in his cavernous mind. It cannot be. This is… This is…

But he knew. A part of him knew that it was true, and something inside him broke.

He shoved the letter into the folds of cloak and rounded on the messenger. “When did you get this?” he cried. “When?”

“Just today,” said the messenger pony, taking an involuntary step back, “hardly a few hours ago, I came here as fast as I could, I’m sorry, sir, a guard delayed me at the gates – ”

“Go send for a carriage,” said Star Swirl. “Towed by pegasi. Now. Go.”

The bronze pony began to shake. “Sir, I’m sorry, I have no money for – ”

“I have some bits on me, don’t linger here, go, now.”

For a split second, the messenger pony looked into Star Swirl’s fiery, dead, dark eyes, and then he turned and bolted.

Star Swirl could feel the weight of the letter in his cloak, a plate of white-hot iron. And then he followed behind the messenger pony, his cloak billowing behind him, his eyes wide open and empty, his head and heart splitting. And the words, the impossible words, over and over again inside him:

She’s dead, he thought. Lily is dead.

Lily

Star Swirl –

I pray this note reaches you quickly. There’s been an accident. Yesterday evening, Lily went out to the hills to stargaze, and late in the night there were screams. We went out to see what had happened, and we found four Royal Guards dead. We searched for Lily. I’m so sorry, Star Swirl. She was gone by the time we reached her.

Every pony is asking where you disappeared off to. Everything is terribly confusing. Please come back.

– Emory

The lines of ink on the page were jagged, precarious, the words more carved than written. And Star Swirl had carved those words indelibly into his soul by the time his carriage had landed on the outskirts of town.

The pegasi were fast – Star Swirl made it so – and he arrived at the town line before nightfall. He leapt from the carriage and hit the ground running. He flew past the welcome sign and over the town line, into the old buildings and cobblestone streets of Whither’s Hollow.

The buildings of the town enveloped him, and the only sound in the quiet was Star Swirl’s own deafening breath. The streets were bare, streamers and colorful children’s masks lying lifeless in the street, the candy stalls on the side of the road aching and empty.

Star Swirl slowed, looking around the ghostly street. So still. His eyes turned up to the houses and buildings pressing in around him. In an open window on a second-story floor, a dim face peered out at him, eyes glistening like stars in the distance. At Star Swirl’s glance, the face retreated, and the window was shut fast.

Star Swirl continued down the barren road. It was all he could do just to keep his balance.

I have a suspicion that I am dreaming, he thought. Just as when Princess Luna appeared to me in the moon two nights ago. Where is that moon now? The sky’s clouding over. But it might appear at any moment. At any moment, I might hear her voice. I might hear her and be saved.

But Star Swirl did not hear the voice of Princess Luna. There was nothing to stop his aimless march through the streets.

But there. Up ahead, coming around the corner; Emory appeared.

Even at a distance, Star Swirl could see the bright red of Emory’s eyes, the untidiness in his fur, the tremor is his step. Their eyes met, and they were pulled to each other. Star Swirl’s legs were suddenly very, very heavy as he walked.

They met in the road.

Emory did not even attempt a smile. “Star Swirl,” he said. “You’ve come. I’m glad.” His voice was rough and worn and quiet, a rusty nail in the noiseless void.

Star Swirl fought the cotton in his throat. “Emory,” he said. He looked around, at the walls surrounding him and the cobblestones beneath him, and finally he found the strength to look Emory in the eye.

“What has happened?” said Star Swirl. “I don’t understand.”

“I know, Star. Neither do I.”

Emory glanced at the barrenness around them. “In any other town,” he said, “the Bicentennial Celebration might have continued. But Whither’s Hollow is so small. Everyone is in mourning.”

Star Swirl considered the word, foreign and harsh, and tasted it. “Mourning,” he whispered.

Emory looked back to Star Swirl. “A few ponies up early yesterday morning saw your carriage leave. They said it was a silver thing, ornate. We all suspected it was taking you to Canterlot. I’m happy we were correct – ”

“Emory, wait a moment.” Star Swirl closed his eyes tight, shook his head. “I still don’t understand… Your letter…”

“I’m sorry it was so short. It’s a… difficult thing to say.”

Star Swirl’s eyes opened again.

“Lily,” he said.

Emory nodded. “Lily. She…” His voice broke. He turned away. Suddenly Emory was possessed by violent shakes. A hoof flew to his eyes. Star Swirl was about to reach out, to offer help, but it was over in an instant. Emory turned back to Star Swirl, wiping his face.

“Excuse me,” he said.

Star Swirl saw that Emory’s eyes were more than red, they were raw and dark and on the brink. Those eyes looked into Star Swirl’s. Emory’s mouth tried to move, to sound out words. Finally he swallowed and said:

“Would you like to see her?”

Something about the question eluded Star Swirl. Something was unclear. Star Swirl’s gaze grew unfocused.

“What?” he asked.

The tears were brimming in Emory’s eyes. Star Swirl could see him fight to keep them down. “I can take you to her, if you’d like,” Emory said. “We’ll have the wake in the next few days. But if you’d like to see her before then… I can take you to her.”

But Emory’s voice had petered out of existence. A vision lay sprawling before Star Swirl. A vision of a door. A tall door, stark and implacable, not far away. It might have been wooden, it might have been metal, Star Swirl could not tell, he could only recognize the reality of the door. And in his vision it drew closer. He knew what was on the other side. A pony on a slab. A pony under a sheet. A pink pony with a heart turned to cold, hard stone.

The door stood waiting.

“Star Swirl?”

Star Swirl turned and bolted.

Emory’s voice rose up. “Star Swirl!”

But Star Swirl could not hear, he could be neither hindered nor helped. His hooves crashed furiously down on the cobblestone road, a wind flew in his face. He raced through Whither’s Hollow, the labyrinth, to the only place he could think of to go. The one place he might hope to find an answer.

Soon enough, Star Swirl came to his destination. The Blue Rose.

A sign read “Closed” in the window. Star Swirl approached the door all the same. He lifted a hoof to the doorknob and pushed.

The door opened.

He entered the shop.

Star Swirl knew that something was wrong before he had even entered. All was too silent. Once inside, he looked up at the door. The tiny golden bell was gone.

His gaze dropped. He walked slowly, casting his eyes about the rest of the shop. The plants were all there, on their shelves, all different colors and shapes. Wandering in a dream, Star Swirl wondered when these plants had been watered last. It could not have been long. But already they seemed a little dryer, a little thinner, a little weaker.

Everything seemed a little weaker.

Star Swirl turned to the back of the shop. Sitting on the corner of the counter was a large, round object, a stone-like shape. It was the seed, the one Lily had said would sprout after fresh rainfall.

Star Swirl approached the seed. He saw himself in its surface, in its unbroken black smoothness. He lifted his hoof and let it gently fall on the seed’s glassy slope. It was cold to the touch. Very cold. The reflection of a face was intent, confused. Star Swirl felt the smoothness beneath his hoof. Unchanged. Unchanging.

It was only a stone after all.

Star Swirl removed his hoof and backed away from the stone. Everywhere he turned, he was wading in a dying dream.

He turned and ran from the shop, crashing through the door, out into the streets, unaware of the world around him, his dry eyes burning in his skull.

Over the next two days, the ponies of Whither’s Hollow would not raise their voices very loudly. They would not conduct any more business in the streets than they had to. The tents were taken down, the stalls were cleared away, and the streamers and children’s paper masks were swept away.

None of them ventured too close to thirty-three Blackwood Road. There, Star Swirl had shut himself up. They left him in peace as best they could.

But if they had ever ventured very close, something in the air would have given them pause. A magic in the air. A new magic, electric, all-pervasive.

And there inside, in the quiet, Star Swirl worked.

The cabin was dark, the windows blocked with heavy curtains. The Dragon’s Tongue pulsated green. The floor was strewn with crumpled papers, notes of feverish diagrams and symbols. Star Swirl’s hat and cloak were cast aside, thrown into a corner.

Star Swirl sat, hunched over his desk, shivering, a quill dancing erratically over a fresh sheet of parchment. Tiny droplets of ink flew from the frenzied quill-tip, dotting the top of the desk with night-black pinpoints of ink.

The quill stopped at the bottom of the page. It fell dead back to the desk.

Star Swirl looked at what he had done.

He had crafted a spell. A scroll of magic born from passion and desperation. It was raw. It was Fire, to burn through the paper walls of reality.

A Time Travel Spell.

Star Swirl stood slowly from his chair, unblinking, fixed totally on his creation. It could send him back. For a few moments, Star Swirl could send himself back. A chill ran up his spine to the crown of his head. He had not slept; the world was beginning to tilt around him. But he was suddenly wide awake, struggling to realize the gravity of his work. This is… This is…

What is this?

Something was wrong. Star Swirl had labored for two days ceaselessly, grasping desperately at a vague, nameless hope, racing down the one path which had never failed him – magic. But now the spell was born, and something was wrong. The thought echoed back in Star Swirl’s mind.

What is this?

I shouldn’t be shaking, I shouldn’t feel so unnaturally cold. What I’ve done is as real as the desk sitting before me. Is it really so shocking? Isn’t this one of the fundamental principles of Magic? Anything is possible. No – everything is possible. But yes, I am shaking. And I am unnaturally cold. What is this that I have done?

This is not a tool for balance.

I have taken a plunge into uncharted oceans. There’s no knowing how this would change the world, the very onrush of time. If I dared… Time may stall, crumble, dissipate. If I dared to… to change something…

But Lily.

Star Swirl pushed his chair aside and backed away from the desk, from the spell, stained green by the Dragon’s Tongue, everything, stained green. He went to a window and pulled away a curtain. Night was rising fast. The first stars began to burn. And Whither’s Hollow, in the light of the bright falling sun, was so very beautiful to Star Swirl.

This is not a tool for balance.

He turned from the window.

Do I try to save her, and risk everything – risk all of reality – or do I let the story finish on its own? Finish in death and tragedy?

Star Swirl wanted to scream. He could feel the noise, bubbling up in his throat, a wild beast fighting for freedom. But something inside Star Swirl would not let it loose. He swallowed the scream. His knees buckled, weak from running, standing, sitting, and Star Swirl fell down to the floor, kneeling there, panting, staring at his hooves.

Star Swirl looked up. The natural light of the open window fell on his desk, overpowering the green and washing the magic scroll in gold.

Star Swirl stood.

He faced the spell on his desk. And slowly, he made his approach.

No.

I cannot save her.

But I can still say goodbye.

Lily made certain to open The Blue Rose on time that morning.

As she flipped over the sign on the door to read “Open,” she could not help but hum a tune. How could she not, when life could prove so unexpected, and so extraordinary?

She watered the plants that needed watering, she tended the flowers that needed tending, and her melody welled up within her, filling the room.

Lily stood behind her counter and waited. Outside, she heard the town come to life, and she was happy.

Ding.

Lily beamed at the open door. “Star Swirl!” she said. “I was beginning to think that you… wouldn’t…”

Lily trailed off. Star Swirl was not the same. He stood there in the doorway, in his blue hat and cloak, staring intently across the room. His face was stone. He was unkempt, he was tired. He stared at Lily. Lily could all but see something dawning in his mind.

And suddenly, the stone lifted from Star Swirl’s face, as if he had only just realized where he was. His eyes brightened, a smile bloomed on his face; utter, tangible, exhausted relief.

“Lily,” he said, beginning to walk across the shop floor. “You’re here. I’m so glad you’re here…”

Lily quickly strode out from behind the counter, frowning. “Star Swirl,” she said, “how do you feel? What’s wrong?”

They met in the middle of the shop, the flowers shining in their colors all about them.

Star Swirl cleared his throat. “I’m so very sorry,” he said, “that I am late.”

“Oh, that’s no problem at all – hold on, let me see you…” Lily brought a hoof gently up to Star Swirl’s face, peering at him with the air of a nurse. Star Swirl’s smile remained.

“You’re a wreck, Star,” she said, lowering her hoof. “Here, sit down, I’ll get you a cup of tea.”

Star Swirl’s smile began to evaporate. “Oh, no, Lily,” he said, “I don’t have much time. Just let me look at you, just for a moment…”

Lily paused. “Not much time?” she said. “What’s the matter, do you have to see Emory about something, or Pan? If you’re not well, I could go talk to – ”

“No.” His smile dried up totally. Ever so slightly, his lip began to tremble. “No, Lily. I have to… I have to go away.”

Neither moved. Lily stared at Star Swirl, until she had fully understood the idea of it. “Going away,” she said. “Well, if you have to leave Whither’s Hollow, I’m sure you’ll try to make it back for the bicentennial, won’t you? I need some pony to bother, or I swear I’ll just… I’ll…”

Lily was mesmerized by the look of Star Swirl’s face. So clouded. So empty of joy.

She blinked; something warm was swelling behind her eyes. “Star,” she said, “tell me, please. What’s wrong?”

“I have to go very soon now, Lily. And I can’t come back.”

Lily blinked harder, trying her best to stifle the heat, the blurring of her vision.

“Wait,” she said, shaking her head, “just wait, just tell me what's wrong – what you're thinking, what you're feeling, what you… You're leaving, you said you're… But can't you… Can’t you at least tell me why?”

Star Swirl’s face was dark beneath the brim of his hat, his eyes gleaming from within. He took a deep breath and sighed; a tremulous, sick sound. “Oh, Lily,” he said, “there are so many things I would like to tell you. But no. I can’t tell you why, and that kills me, Lily, it kills me that I can’t see you anymore, it’s killing me as I stand here. I’m so sorry. I can only wish that you might find it in your heart to trust me.”

Lily tried to read Star Swirl’s face. A laugh broke from her, and her first tear fell. “You always were such a mysterious unicorn, Star Swirl,” she said. “Any other day, I would try to force it out of you. And I still want to. Oh, you’d best believe it, I’m aching to; I have a right to know why one of my best friends is vanishing from my life. And yet, I look at you, and… and I trust you. I do.”

Star Swirl removed his hat, the shadow passing from his face, and placed it on the floor beside them, his eyes never deterring from Lily’s. Lily attempted a smile.

“There,” she said. “There’s that face. There’s my Star Swirl.”

Star Swirl reached out. Carefully, like a pony polishing a beautiful glass sculpture, he took Lily’s hoof in his. Both of their breaths faltered. And that wonderful invisible warmth inside both of them blossomed into full life. They held firmly onto one another.

“Lily,” said Star Swirl, “listen to me. There isn’t much time left. I just have to say… What do I have to say…” For an instant, his eyes fell. And then they were up again, partners for Lily’s.

“You’ve done so much for me. I used to be an island. I don’t know if that’s what I wanted, or if that's all I was capable of, but that’s what I was. An island. I never truly realized that I was lonely, before you. But then you helped me. You helped me laugh. You helped me listen. You helped me speak. You’ve changed me, and I am happy for it. But the worst thing of all – the very worst thing – is that I’ll never have the chance to help you as you helped me. I’ll never be able to offer you my shoulder to cry on. I’ll never help you slay your demons. I wish I could have been for you what you’ve been for me.”

Star Swirl paused. The words were heavy in his mouth. He continued. “And Lily… Know this… If ever there was a pony that I could truly reveal myself too… If there was ever a pony that I could have… loved… It would have been – It would be you.”

Lily’s tears ran freely now. She clasped Star Swirl’s hoof tightly in hers.

They moved as one, together, unthinking. Their faces drifted closer and their eyes drifted shut.

Their lips met. Soft and firm, comforting and exposed. And oh so very warm.

All at once, they realized what had happened, and they broke apart, each careful of the other. They gazed at one another once again.

Lily spoke first. “I’m glad for that,” she said, hardly a whisper.

Star Swirl found, somehow, that he could let a smile into his eyes. He answered, just as softly, “Yes. So am I.”

He magically lifted his blue pointed hat from the floor and fit it back onto his head. He turned. He walked to the door.

But Star Swirl stopped, before he was even close enough to reach for the handle. His face turned upward, to the top of the door. To the little golden bell, the splendid little instrument that looked as if it belonged in a tiny cathedral.

Star Swirl let the ghost of a smile in his eyes bleed onto his face. He spoke, facing the door. “I will miss you, Lily,” he said. “I will miss this place. And… it’s a strange thing… I will miss this bell. This little golden bell that speaks in hellos and goodbyes. This little bell… it means home.”

The bell shimmered in the light. A hypnotic comfort.

Star Swirl heard the sound of hooves treading behind him. Suddenly Lily stood in front of him, walking toward the door. She stood up tall on her hind legs, reaching high. She unhooked the bell from its perch.

Lily came back down to the floor and turned to Star Swirl. He saw that she had wiped her tears away.

Lily smiled and walked to him. She reached out to him, and gently placed the bell in a pocket of his cloak.

Star Swirl tried to swallow, tried to speak, but his mouth was paper. His shivers began again.

Lily wrapped her arms around him one final time and squeezed. Then she parted herself from Star Swirl and backed away from the door. Her eyes began to brim again.

“Star Swirl,” she said. “Remember me. And I promise, I’ll remember you. I do believe I love you.” She flashed Star Swirl one last radiant grin. “You remarkable pony.”

Star Swirl nodded, feeling the slight weight of the bell at his side.

“Lily,” he said. “I believe I love you too. I’ll always remember you. You, and your wonderful laugh.”

And both of them knew that they had said as much as they could bear to.

Star Swirl opened the door and was gone.

Lily stood there for a moment. She wiped her eyes with her foreleg. Abruptly, she dropped her leg and hurried to the door.

Goodbye, she thought. One of us has to say it. Goodbye.

Lily opened the door. She walked into the street. She looked around.

Star Swirl had vanished.

King Klav-Mar

A heavy gray mist boiled over the earth. And in the mist stood Everfree Forest, a crooked maze of tangles and thorns. And deep in Everfree Forest, a scream split the air.

A deer ran. She flew over roots and briars and boulders, she dodged the clawed branches reaching down from the wild canopy above, always moving, round black eyes darting and quivering, possessed by the mindless spirit of self-preservation.

But still, however fast she ran, she could not outrun the sounds; the heavy, guttural breathing, the growls, the leaves and twigs pulping under massive paws. Always just behind her, always closer.

The deer tore through the forest. If it weren’t so dark, if she could break out of the woods, if the mist would burn away, if she could find a clearing – she might live. But the deep panting just behind her declared otherwise. Hopelessness threatened to drown her. But still she ran. A leap over a fallen log, a splash through a stream, a sprint through the trees –

The deer tripped on a root and fell sprawling to the forest floor, all flailing limbs and wide eyes, and before she knew she was dead, the beast was on her.

The snap of her neck echoed like the crack of a whip through the Everfree. The hunter stood over his prize.

The Jackal was long and lean. His wild charcoal-gray fur rose and fell, heaving on his breath. He tasted the blood on his teeth and growled.

He sank his fangs into the warm meat of the body, and, dragging the deer, he made his way home, dissolving back into the twisting black trees.

The cave was well hidden.

The mouth of the cavern opened up at the bottom of a cliff face, only just large enough for a bear to pass through. Dark green foliage hung down everywhere, obscuring the entrance – an invisible portal to an impossible world.

The charcoal-gray Jackal came to the cave mouth, blood trailing in the leaves behind him, the deer’s bones grinding against one another, splintered and split from the journey. The Jackal smiled through his mouthful of fur.

Yes, yes, come, my pretty, he thought. Home we go, just you and Ivan, Ivan and you. But shh, shh, my pretty, my brothers are asleep. We will go down deep, deep into the tunnels, and we will be alone, just the two of us, and you will be mine, all mine.

Ivan backed through the bushes and branches, for all the world seeming to disappear into the wall of the cliff. The last half-beams of light from the overhead canopy were extinguished, and Ivan’s eyes adjusted to the comfortable blackness.

The cave was vast, and the floor sloped down, rocky and uneven. The curved walls were rough and grimy, the ceiling and floor, no different. And scattered everywhere on the floor were the hulking, sleeping forms of dozens of Jackals.

Ivan released the deer from his jaws and set it on the ground, as quietly as he could. He turned and surveyed the cave, searching for a path through the bodies of his brothers. He saw one, leading down to the back of the cave, to the tunnels. About half a dozen tunnels, yawning holes that snaked down like tendrils into the foundations of the earth.

Ivan picked up the deer again, and began to pull it across the cave. The only sounds were the scrape of the carcass on the rocks and the grating, elemental breathing of the beasts. Ivan began to drool. To have the deer to himself, finally, a proper meal to himself –

“Who’s that?”

Ivan’s ears shot up. The deer dropped, he whirled around.

A figure materialized from the depths of a tunnel. A Jackal; black, graying fur; and tall, at least a head taller than Ivan; and with wild, dancing eyes. He walked toward Ivan, jaws agape, ears flat.

Ivan licked his chops, standing between the figure from the tunnel and his prize. “Go away, Gleb. It’s daylight out – go to sleep.”

“What’s that, Ivan?”

“What?”

“Behind you. The sweet-smelling – ”

“Nothing. Go to sleep, Gleb, go away.”

A growl began to rumble in Gleb’s chest. Sleeping Jackals all around began to shift on the ground, restless, their nostrils flaring.

“You were going to keep it all for yourself,” said Gleb, his voice rising. “We’re starving, and you’re keeping the meat for yourself.”

Ivan’s hackles flew up. “Keep your voice down,” he said, backing away, back to the carcass. “It’s none of your business, it’s no one’s business if I – ”

There was a snarl behind Ivan. He flew around – another Jackal had woken up, snuck up behind him, and now it pounced on the deer, pulling it away. Ivan lunged at the deer, teeth snapping, but too late; the thief tore the deer across the room and set to work on it, crunching, red droplets splattering the walls.

All at once, the cave floor exploded with life. Jackals’ eyes flew open, noses quivering, and they flew at the smell, converging on the source like piranhas. Howls bore through the air, echoing all around, and before Ivan could reach his stolen prize, a mound of Jackals had descended on the deer in a wild frenzy of fur and teeth.

It was over quickly. Within moments the Jackals dispersed, and all the was left of Ivan’s prize was a stain on the ground. The deer was gone, bones and all. A few stragglers still sat there, licking ravenously at the puddles on the ground.

“You filth!” Gleb barked at Ivan. “You traitor!”

Suddenly Ivan was the focal point of attention. All of the cave was awake by now, and the Jackals circled Ivan, eying him, hungry and suspicious. Ivan shivered, his tail twitching between his legs.

“You call me filth!” Ivan cried. “Traitor! I’m no filth, I’m no traitor! How could you – ”

“We’re all starving, we’ve all been starving for months. Glutton! You wanted that deer for yourself!”

“Never! I was – ”

A small gray Jackal shrieked, “But it was so skinny! Not much fat, no, not much muscle, either! When will we get some real food? Some real meat?”

There were shouts of consent from all. Ivan scanned the crowd, searching for a way out.

“We’ll have real meat!” Ivan shouted. “Our king promised us! King Klav-Mar promised us a life outside the caves! Don’t we trust our King?”

The angry growls subsided around the room. This was true; the king had promised them all a better life.

Gleb advanced on Ivan, his hackles up, his eyes rolling in his skull. “You’re a liar, Ivan – the king promised us a life outside the caves, yes, but he never said a word about meat.”

A fierce chill rippled through the room. The Jackals nodded, lips curling into snarls – yes, there was never any mention of food from the king. Ivan was a traitor and a glutton and a liar.

Ivan’s fur was matted with sweat, his legs threatened to buckle beneath him. “We must trust our king!” he shouted, unable to think of anything else. “King Klav-Mar is the smartest of them all! He will give us what we want, what we need!”

“Brothers,” thundered Gleb, calling out over the crowd, “we have been hungry for a very long time. And here stands Ivan, with more meat on him than most of us. Undoubtedly, he gained that meat from sneaky meals out in the forest and deep in the tunnels while we’ve slept – when he should have shared it! Don’t you think, brothers, that the time has finally come for Ivan to share his meat with us?”

Ivan began to back away from Gleb, but the Jackals were all around him, their saliva dripping to the floor, their growls long and loud. He saw them, he felt them, slowly closing in around him, and his head whipped in every direction, always to the sight of long, crooked fangs.

“No! You mustn’t! Remember, King Klav-Mar is – King Klav-Mar is – ”

Hissss…

All Jackals froze. All growls stopped. A sound. A new sound, unlike anything any of them had heard before. All eyes turned to the mouth of the cave. It was a strange, crackling hiss, like a wind flying through dead plants.

Suddenly, something burst into the cave, flying high over them, hissing and whizzing and fizzing. Their hunger forgotten, they dove for cover, yelping, scrambling to the sides of the cave. The object landed with a hollow thunk on the floor. All of them watched it from afar – its flight was over, and it was still as the grave, but the hissing would not stop.

A moment of stillness passed. Finally, treading carefully, Gleb began walking to the object. His ears were down, his body, low to the ground, ready to pounce or run at the first sign of life from the lump on the cave floor.

He stood over the thing. No, it was definitely not alive. Then why was it hissing? He lowered his head and examined it.

“Well?” a Jackal called out. “What is it? I’ve never heard the likes of it.”

“I can’t place its smell, not at all,” said another.

Gleb’s black eyes narrowed. The object was red, and oddly shaped. Out of one end, there was a string. Gleb lifted a paw to protect his eyes; there was a light there, on the string. It was on fire. Yes, that was the hissing. The string was on fire, and slowly it was burning away.

He reached out to touch the object, to see if it was alive after all – hopefully it would not bite – and all at once, Gleb saw it. The shape of it, the way it was carved – it was a head.

The head of a dragon.

Gleb’s eyes opened wide, he backed away from the head. “Dragon’s head!” he cried. “A dragon’s head!”

The word “dragon” filled the room, and suddenly every Jackal feared for its life. “Dragons!” they cried. “To the tunnels, to the outside world, run, run from the dragons – ”

The string finished burning.

As if a thunderbolt had been hidden under the dragon’s tongue, the head burst open with an earth-shaking BOOM. And everywhere, inescapable, was light – the light of fire, the light of day, bombarding them all, falling over them like an avalanche. They screamed, they shrieked, their eyes dried up. Hair was burning everywhere.

Hissss…

Another object flew in from the mouth of the cave. And then, hissss – another, and then another. Jackals tried to crawl to the tunnels, tried to find a boulder to hide behind, but the dragon-lights washed over everything. Every boom and every flash brought a new wave of screams.

When the last of the lights went out, there were no more screams.

Ivan lay on the floor. He listened – crushing, absolute quiet hung over him. Save for the whining; his own whining. The smell of burning filled him. He lay there on his stomach, and reaching with his front legs, he began to crawl across the cave floor, to the tunnels, to the cold, lightless tunnels, so close, and slowly getting closer…

A knocking sound began behind him.

Ivan froze. Again, the knocking, from the entrance of the cave. Rhythmic, relentless. Hooftseps.

The crawling began again, faster than before, as fast as he could manage. The tunnels, Ivan thought. The tunnels are safe. But his legs, scraping on the rock – his legs, so burnt and raw. Such pain. Every rock and every pebble was a white hot coal on his skin, and every inch forward was a struggle. And the knock, knock, knock of the hoofsteps behind him, pounding into his head. He slowed. His claws scratched uselessly at the ground.

Ivan stopped. He lay there among his still brothers, heart pounding, insides twisting in knots.

Just behind him, the hooftsteps came to a halt.

Ivan smelled the intruder, and knew what stood over him. With the last of his strength, he turned himself over to face the pony.

Ivan laughed at the pony. He laughed at the outline of a sweeping cloak and a pointed hat. He laughed, wild and breathless, eyes bulging.

“You are a nothing!” said Ivan, his words riding on the laughter, his lips curling from his teeth. “You cannot kill us! My king knows better. We can all live again! All of us, live again. My king has said so. My king is smart! King Klav-Mar is the smartest of them all!”

The pony stepped forward and looked down at Ivan, its face coming into view, as cold and firm-set as the stone. The figure spoke:

“Not anymore.”

Ivan choked on his laughter.

There was a flash of white light from the pony’s horn, and all crumbled to ashes.

Star Swirl chose a tunnel and descended.

His horn was lit as a white torch before him. The tunnels were filled with twists and turns, forks, alternate passages. Star Swirl ventured forever down, marking every route and every unused path with his mind. It would be so easy to lose the way. But Star Swirl would not get lost. He could not.

There were no more Jackals to do away with, at least not in the tunnels he journeyed in. He was always ready for them, nonetheless. But there was no tremor of fear in his legs. His heartbeat was steady and strong.

There came a point where the twists and turns ended. The tunnel shot ahead into the dark, straight and sloping down.

Star Swirl doused the light of his horn. He would be coming to the heart of the place soon, and he would not give away his presence before the time was right.

And so he went on, journeying blind. Walking in the dark, he lost all trustworthy sense of time. A minute might have been an hour, an hour, a minute. The only constants were his hooves on the stone, and a muffled, metallic clinking. The sound of a bell, wrapped in the folds of a heavy cloak.

Suddenly the slope ended. Star Swirl stood on flat, level ground.

Star Swirl stepped forward. The echoes of his hooves rang long and deep around him; he had entered some sort of massive cavern. He had arrived.

Still, he did not light his horn. He stood and listened. It was still daylight outside. The creature he sought might be asleep. Star Swirl strained his ears, listening for the rumble of sleeping breath.

Softly as he could, he stepped forward. Star Swirl could feel the magic building inside him, rising up and waiting to burst at the crown of his skull. At any moment, he could let fly the lights of his horn.

Then the voice spoke.

It was so low, so thunderous, rumbling out of the perfect blackness; Star Swirl could feel the vibrations of the rock beneath him. He took a step back.

The voice said:

“Well. I had wondered when you would come, Assassin. Tell me; why has your mistress taken so long?”

The voice seemed to rain down from all over. Star Swirl could not make out the point of its origin. It was strong, but at the same time, somehow tired, somehow resigned. A sighing hurricane. Star Swirl braced himself, his bottled magic storming inside him.

No more words. He had come for one reason, and he would be satisfied.

The magic exploded inside him, pounding in his veins, flying up into his horn, bursting forth –

The darkness remained unbroken.

Star Swirl’s heartbeat at last began to quicken.

Something was wrong. He tried again, focusing all of his skill, all of his raw will. He could feel it working, he could feel the warm rush of magic in his horn. But he could see no light. It was as if the air around him was an absorbent mist of black, a wall that could not be broken down.

The voice sounded again.

“There is only one of you,” it said. “I am surprised. I expected your mistress to send more. Are you strong, then? Or clever? Speak.”

Star Swirl began to pace around the dark, feeling his way with his hooves. Fine, then, he thought, nostrils flaring. You’d like to talk. We will talk.

“I am clever enough,” said Star Swirl, his voice thin and meatless after the thundering words from the dark, “to recognize a magically amplified voice when I hear one.”

“Hmm,” said the voice. “Observant. But it doesn’t matter. You have been sent by Princess Celestia to kill me. And now, you know it cannot be done. But I will not kill you. Leave. Tell her Royal Highness what transpired here. If it’s any consolation, you can at least mention your slaughter of my subjects. That should earn you some sort of royal title, at the very least.”

Star Swirl continued treading carefully around the room, ears straining, listening to the voice, trying to find its source. Keep it talking, he thought. Keep it talking.

“And why can’t you be killed?” asked Star Swirl.

“You may search for me, if you wish, but you will never find me. If it was my will, I could keep you wandering about in the dark, blind and in circles, until you fall over dead from hunger and exhaustion. I have the magic for that. But instead, I shall make clear to you the path back to the surface.”

“Jackals cannot use magic.”

“I am more than a Jackal. I am the King of Jackals.”

“King Klav-Mar.”

“Yes,” said the voice. “I am King Klav-Mar. And now you will leave.”

“I will not leave.”

The voice paused. Star Swirl stopped walking. He felt as if a great eye was peering down at him.

“I see,” said the voice. “I’m afraid that you are not as clever as you think yourself to be, Assassin. Know when you are beaten. Leave. I may yet decide to kill you.”

Star Swirl lifted his face up, staring down the nothingness. “I’m no assassin,” he said.

“No assassin? Are you here to kill me?”

“Yes.”

“Aha. A riddle. A unicorn has come to kill me, yet he claims not to be an assassin. What are you, then?”

Star Swirl’s face was fixed, an unblinking mask of granite.

“I am here to kill you,” he said, “but I was not sent by Princess Celestia.”

The voice was silent. Star Swirl imagined what lay beyond the darkness, claws clicking against the floor as it prepared to pounce. Or perhaps the room was empty, and King Klav-Mar was the darkness itself.

The voice spoke again. It was softer this time, slower, the storm inside the words subsiding.

“Ah,” it said. “Then I think I know why you’ve come. You have lost something to us. Is that right?”

Star Swirl was silent.

The voice sighed. “It is an old story,” it said. “Vengeance upon the monsters. I have seen it play out for time immemorial. I know every line, every character by heart. And I am sorry. You do not care that I am, but I am.”

All of Star Swirl’s mind was alight, trying to solve the puzzle. Break through this darkness, he thought. How can I break through this darkness…

The voice went on. “I should tell you, Assassin – for that is what you are, whether you admit it or not – that not so long ago, I sent a letter to Princess Celestia. I proposed a future of peace for our two races. I proposed a Jackal settlement, where Jackals can be educated and civilized. I proposed a future. Now… I have not forgotten that your kind has seen pain at the mercy of the Jackals. You know how Jackals hunger, how their minds fall apart at the very smell of pony blood. And you fear us, as you should. But you are all so consumed with your fear, with your anger, with your own bloodlust, that you would never even once consider that we could overcome our nature. My letter was sincere, Assassin. Every word. I do not want to be feared. The Jackals are so much fewer now. Peace is our only chance to survive. But do you think that Princess Celestia is interested in the survival of my race? I tell you now, Assassin, that Princess Celestia will come for me, just as you have. But I had to make an attempt at peace. I had to. I could not let my brothers die off scattered and alone. I brought them together, as many as I could. This was our last chance.”

“She’s dead.”

Star Swirl spat the words in a cold fury. “She’s dead,” he said, his voice rising. “She was murdered. You couldn’t stop them from killing her. Is that your precious 'peace?'"

Star Swirl’s blood ran thick, his breath was a whistle in his dry throat.

“I understand,” said the voice. “I do. And I swear to you, I know nothing of the murder that has brought you here. My subjects… they are difficult to control. Their nature is all violence and gnashing teeth. What can their purpose be in this world, Assassin? What purpose can there be, for savages in a land of harmony? The world is too small for us. We must overcome our nature. It can be done. I am proof of it. I am a Jackal. And I can use magic. I have intelligence, I have empathy. I will share the light of knowledge with my brothers.”

Star Swirl’s voice was hardly a whisper.

“No,” he said. “You are the only one. I’ve seen the Jackals. If you truly are a Jackal, and if you truly are intelligent – you are alone. I know… I am the same. I've always felt it. A chasm between myself and the rest of the world. No matter how much the chasm shrinks, it will always be there. I wish that it would vanish. I will work to diminish it for all my days. But we, the outsiders; we will always be alone.”

Star Swirl could feel something twisting behind his granite mask. Yes; now that he said it, he knew it was the truth, and the truth was horrifying.

“I do not know you, Assassin,” said the voice. “But I will prove you wrong. Our last chance isn’t gone yet. We’re going to live, Assassin. We’re going to change, and we’re going to live – ”

With a cry, Star Swirl sank his teeth into his leg.

The blood came swelling up immediately, hot on Star Swirl’s fur, dripping on the stone floor. The rusted, salted smell poured into his nostrils. Star Swirl’s mind opened up, probing the magic around him –

Yes. Something had changed in the magical blackness. Just for an instant, a fraction of a second, the voice’s concentration was broken. The wall of night shimmered as if about to melt, and Star Swirl, finally, found the point of origin, the spot radiating magic; he had to act, while the window of opportunity was open, before the nothingness closed in again –

BANG.

A bolt of searing white lightning hammered a crack into the air, elemental and fearless, ripping aside the darkness, exposing the whole of the massive, dome-shaped cave.

Far at the other end of the cavern, the bolt of lightning found its mark.

There was a scream. Not the scream of the voice, ancient and low, but a flesh-and-blood cry of pain and surprise.

The lightning bolt faded, and the cave was black again.

This time, Star Swirl’s horn lit easily. The point of white light illuminated the cave, cold and ghostly. And from across the cavern, Star Swirl could see a mass lying on the floor.

He walked to it.

As he approached, Star Swirl saw the creature’s feeble attempts at movement, trying to lift a paw, struggling just to breathe. It had barely moved by the time Star Swirl stood over it.

The Jackal was the size of Star Swirl. Its hair was all white with age, and thinning all over, revealing the dried up gray skin beneath. Or perhaps it only seemed gray in Star Swirl’s stark white light. Its claws were cracked and worn, its tail was a lifeless worm on the ground.

And on the creature’s head was mounted the crown of a skull. The skull of a unicorn.

A long white horn protruded from the center of the skull. Or at least, it once had been long and white. It was broken and blackened and smoking. Splintered, cracked pieces lay smoldering on the ground.

The creature’s head turned. Star Swirl could count the threadlike tendons working in its neck as it faced him. Its breathing was labored. Its eyes were made yellow by cataracts.

The Jackal coughed, and spoke. Its voice was so very quiet, so very weak. But precise. A razor cutting through the silence.

“Now you’ve seen me,” said King Klav-Mar. “Now you see me as I am. And I am not a paragon of my kind. I am only the king.”

Klav-Mar lifted his trembling paw and removed the unicorn skull from his head. It landed on the ground. Its hollow crack echoed everywhere.

“See this, Assassin. See this horn. I won it. I fought a unicorn and bested him. Not with brute strength, either. With my wits. I outsmarted him, and he died.”

Klav-Mar’s withered mouth curved up into a smile. “I became more than a Jackal. I overcame that. I was nothing, and then I was a king. My brothers saw my intelligence, my strength, and I built my following… Oh, I was going to work such wonders, Assassin. That was my purpose. What else can we do? What else, but learn our parts in the world, and strive to play them out?”

Klav-Mar’s eyes began to glaze over. The curve of his mouth slowly loosened. He examined Star Swirl, curious and fading.

“And what about you, Assassin?” Klav-Mar asked. “Have you learnt your part? As I leave this world, I leave behind me suffering and failure. What will you leave behind?”

Klav-Mar placed a paw on the broken remains of the unicorn horn and closed his eyes.

Star Swirl’s horn bloomed with daylight, and it was over.

The sun was setting. Whither’s Hollow was all quiet. All were in their homes, with their loved ones, trying to recover, trying to move on.

All but two. Two ponies sat on the outskirts of town, waiting for their friend to come home.

Emory and Pan waited on the road, looking out at the horizon, looking at the dirt path beneath their feet, looking wearily at each other, as the red, dying daylight buzzed around them.

There was a crack. Star Swirl appeared on the road before them.

Instantly alert, the two ran to him. Star Swirl’s face was hidden under the wide brim of his hat. His cloak was worn and dirty.

Star Swirl lifted the hat from his head and let it fall to the ground. His face was gaunt. His eyes were set deep in his face.

Emory and Pan searched for words, for questions, for comforts. Emory raised a hoof, to put on his friend’s shoulder.

Emory froze; Star Swirl had started to shake. Star Swirl turned his head to the ground.

“Emory… Pan…”

The tears began to fall. The granite crumbled. “I’m… I’m so very tired,” said Star Swirl. “I’ve never been so tired in all m-my life…”

Emory and Pan rushed to him. The three of them stood there, embracing, supporting one another as the night rolled in. They closed their eyes, and they were together. And for a moment, that was enough.

Author's Note

Hello, my friends. First of all, for all of you reading this - for all of you who have taken the time to labor through twelve chapters of this story - I'd like to sincerely thank you for your interest and support. Just knowing that a few people out there are interested in how the story turns out makes it all worth it.

I feel that it's only fair to let you know that The Tutelage of Star Swirl is quickly drawing to a close. The story will include two more chapters and an epilogue. I began this story nearly a year ago, and now that events are spiraling toward their inevitable conclusions, I feel like I'll be saying goodbye to a constant companion. But we certainly had a blast while it lasted, and happily, I'm not quite through yet.

Again, thank you so much for giving The Tutelage of Star Swirl a read. I'll see you all at the end.

Moose Mage

Power and Purpose

In the days that followed, Star Swirl rested.

For the better part of three days after his journey into the Everfree Forest, Star Swirl resided in the Western Tower of Canterlot Palace. The curtains over the great wide windows were drawn. The guards left his meals outside the door. And sometimes at night, Star Swirl took silently to the halls of the palace, like a phantom in a crypt, intangible and voiceless.

At dusk on the third day, Princess Luna sat in the royal study and wished that Star Swirl would speak.

When he had first appeared at the gates of Canterlot Palace three days before with the eyes of a doll, and when he had first told Princess Luna his story, her heart had broken. She had to speak with him further; she had to do something for him. But Star Swirl would see no one. The best that Luna could do was to see that he had a warm bed and three meals a day.

But then, even if Star Swirl would speak with her… After hearing of what had happened in the caves – what Star Swirl had done – what could she say?

Princess Luna sat in a dark wooden chair in the dimly lit study, cloaked with silence. She stared up at the map of Equestria hanging on the wall. For the hundredth time, the thousandth time, she pondered the little red flags affixed to the map, marking the sightings of Jackals. They pooled across the land like blood, spilling from some hidden wound deep in the Everfree.

Star Swirl had stanched that blood. By stopping the beating heart.

Luna glared up at the wall from under her brow, eyes glazed with thought.

She stood. Her horn shimmered, and the small red flags began removing themselves from the map. The lights of her magic painted the dim room ocean blue.

After she had put the flags aside, deposited back in the small wooden box they had come from, she magically lifted the map from the wall. Slowly – almost ceremonial – the map rolled itself into a long white cylinder. The mountains and rivers of the countryside vanished.

“That’s for the best, I think,” said Princess Celestia.

Luna had heard Celestia approaching in the doorway behind her, but had taken little notice; her mind was elsewhere. Celestia stepped inside and continued. “The room is so different now. As if you’ve restored the royal study. I’m happy to see it as it should be again.”

“Yes,” said Luna. The map floated across the room and tucked itself away in a corner behind a shelf, suddenly invisible. “Me, too.”

Celestia took a seat in an empty chair. “The court unicorns will begin their purge tomorrow,” she said. “With the Royal Guard in support. When they’ve swept away all the traces that are left… maybe the matter will finally be over and done with. After all these years, finally – done.”

Luna nodded. They had decided the day before. After Luna had recounted Star Swirl’s tale for Celestia, immediately the two of them dispatched a dozen court unicorns to Everfree Forest, to the cliff where Star Swirl had found the cave. They ventured in, and they found the remains. The first chamber of the cave was a field of bones and ash. Even by the time the court unicorns arrived, some red hot embers still burned alive in the bellies of the beasts. Then, they descended into the tunnels. They came across a few straggling survivors, creatures that Star Swirl had failed to encounter. But they were all swiftly dispatched. Finally they came to the great underground dome. In it, they found the remnants of Klav-Mar’s crown; the broken skull and the shattered horn of a unicorn forgotten by time. No other trace remained of the king.

The court unicorns reported back to the palace. It was clear to the princesses that the greatest power of the Jackals had been broken. All that was left was to deal with the smaller packs, hidden around Equestria, suddenly leaderless and few. Princess Celestia made a proposition, and soon enough, Princess Luna agreed. The Jackals would be purged. They would be given no chance to build themselves up, not again. The court unicorns and Royal Guard would take the offensive. Their instructions: Use any force necessary to subdue the creatures. If possible, capture them for relocation back to Tartarus. But should that fail… Use any force necessary.

It had all happened so quickly. Overnight, the world had been changed. The great secret threat, the legion of monsters amassing just out of sight, had all but vanished with the removal of the king. The prospect of war, which both princesses had feared so greatly, was reduced to extermination.

Princess Luna took a seat across the room from Celestia. She closed her eyes and allowed herself a moment of peace.

Celestia watched her sister. “Luna,” she said, “something else is bothering you.”

Luna opened her eyes and stared into nothingness. “Yes,” she said.

Celestia nodded. “Star Swirl.”

“Yes.”

“I thought as much. Tell, me, my sister – what do you think of this? Of what he did?”

There was a short silence. Luna drew a breath and spoke slowly. “I… am not sure what I think,” she said. “This is more than I’d… well… It’s unlike him. To do anything like this…”

“How do you mean?”

Luna stood. She began to walk the length of the room. “Passion,” she said, “is, I think, so very important to the young. Passion can possess a pony to cross an ocean, to raise a mountain… to fell a king. But I have only ever known Star Swirl to have a passion for learning.”

“But every pony can have a passion for revenge, sister.”

Luna shook her head. “Yes, but there’s more to it. Star Swirl studies magic. But that is not his passion. Magic is a means to an end, an end he is yet to reach. He is looking for something…”

Luna turned from her sister. Celestia stood. “Looking for what?” she said.

Luna turned back to Celestia. “How to say it… His Purpose, I suppose. His place in the world. He’s mentioned this to me before, his Problem. He would never speak very openly of it. Even to me. But it cuts him to the quick, this Purposelessness he hides. His father left when he was young. His mother died not long after. I suppose it's only natural, that he should feel somehow lost. I don’t fully understand how he feels, I admit that. I know he’s spent much of his time searching for his Purpose, for a spell to reveal his path, for a clue of some kind. And now, after the Jackals, after what happened to Lily… I could not tell you where that path is leading him. Or if it’s for the best.”

Celestia’s eyes burned clear and intent. “What he did in the caves. What do you think?”

Luna’s nostrils flared. She sighed, but the tension in her body remained.

“I think it was slaughter. But I also think Star Swirl is young, and new to death and loss, and not entirely in control of his feelings.”

“Hm,” said Celestia. She turned from her sister and walked to the doorway of the royal study. The hallway outside was bright, the setting sun blazing gold in the windows.

Luna stepped toward the door. “Wait, sister,” she said.

Celestia stopped.

“What about you?” Luna asked. “What do you think? What will you do?”

Celestia stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the dying day, her head half turned toward her sister. She stood in thought for a moment, then turned away again.

“Star Swirl saved us all from war,” she said. “And that is how I will treat him. As a hero of war.”

The next morning, Princess Celestia sent for Star Swirl.

The Royal Guards had begun returning to the palace. Life was returning to the hollow halls. The bare two guards whom Celestia had kept for appearances grew to ten, and then fifteen as letters and notices magically flew across Equestria, bringing Princess Celestia’s forces up to date on the state of things. The restoration of normalcy began.

A guard sent a notice to Star Swirl’s room at dawn, requesting his presence in the throne room at noon. Noon came, and four guards waited at the closed doors of the throne room, for Star Swirl to come.

Some doubted he would. But he did. First came the faint echoing hoof steps down the hall, and the murmur of a cloak on the air. And then he appeared, somehow otherworldly with the star-peppered blue fabric fluttering about him, and the brim of his long hat casting a shadowy mask on his face.

Steady and deliberate as a glacier, Star Swirl walked down the hall, past the guards, pushed open the throne room doors and walked inside.

In the next instant, after the shock had passed, the Royal Guards leapt into the room and circled Star Swirl, pillars of shining metal. One called out “Halt!” and Star Swirl stopped.

“You may not,” thundered the guard, “enter the Canterlot Throne Room until your presence is known to Her Royal High– ”

Star Swirl glanced sideways at the speaking guard. Just an eye, gleaming under the hat. But it was a look of such complete, unrepentant indifference, the guard was shocked into silence. He worked his tongue, scrambling for a firm grip on his words again.

“Thank you, Captain,” called Princess Celestia. “That will do. Star Swirl – Thank you for coming.”

The princess sat on her throne, at the other end of the hall, past the golden-ivory pillars, just as she had been sitting on the first day Star Swirl had laid eyes on her. Her ethereal mane and her jewel-encrusted crown sparkled with every color, and unreality clung to the air around her. Princess Luna stood just beside the throne. Every unearthly shade of blue in her coat and mane was an old, familiar comfort. Star Swirl smiled at her.

The guards stepped aside, and Star Swirl began the walk down the narrow red carpet to the throne. Princess Celestia beamed at him.

“Oh, Star Swirl,” she said. “I’m very pleased to see you again. You’ve been so brave, and you’ve been so dedicated. My sister and I are very proud.”

Star Swirl arrived at the throne and looked up at the princess. “Is there something I can do for you, Princess Celestia?”

The princess went on. “We have been worried for you, Star Swirl. Since you returned to us, you’ve seemed distant. I thought, perhaps, it might be time to speak about what happened. If you feel you’re ready, of course.”

“That’s very considerate of you, Princess. Yes, I am ready.”

Princess Celestia’s voice was tender and soothing as water. “My sister and I heard about what happened in Whither’s Hollow. Your friend, Lily… We are both so sorry to hear what happened, Star Swirl.”

Star Swirl was silent and unblinking. Princess Celestia continued.

“I know that we have not known each other for long, Star Swirl. But my condolences are real, I can promise you. Princess Luna and I… well, we have lived in Equestria for a very long time. We have gained much, and we have lost much. We understand.”

She smiled a smile that was at once comforting and sad.

Star Swirl looked at the princess and wondered. I am watching for masks, he thought. Somehow, that’s what I expected from Princess Celestia. But… as I examine her face, and as I weigh her words… I’m not convinced that I am faced with a mask. She is offering me her deepest condolences. She tells me she understands.

Perhaps she does.

Star Swirl bowed his head low. “Thank you, Princess Celestia,” he said. “That means a great deal to me.”

Princess Luna stepped forward. She tried to smile as delicately as her sister, but her lip trembled. “I wish that I had been a greater help to you, Star Swirl,” she said. “I tried to keep you safe for as long as I could, truly I did, I did as much as I could, but after so much has happened, I’m sorry that… that I…”

Star Swirl went to her. “No, no, Princess,” he said, eyes glazing, “you’ve done so much for me, you’ve been there from the beginning. You’ve done so much, and I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

They embraced. Ever so slightly, Star Swirl could feel a weight beginning to lift; a weight he’d been laboring under from the moment he’d come back to the palace, after Everfree.

They broke apart. Celestia watched them.

“Star Swirl,” said Princess Luna, “we just want you to be all right. We just want to understand what happened.”

Star Swirl looked her squarely in the eye. “What happened,” he said. “What happened in Everfree Forest… The truth is, Princess, some of it, I can’t recall very easily. Some of it is… chaos, fire and smoke. But I remember standing at the mouth of the cave. And I remember the deepest part of the tunnels… and the King. I will never forget the king.”

Luna stole herself. “Star Swirl,” she said, as gently as she could, “…why did you do it.?”

Star Swirl seemed lost. For a moment, he did not breathe, thinking. Then his eyes cleared and he answered:

“Because Lily was my friend. I had to do something… I had to do something…”

The words rang in the hall. Celestia spoke.

“You cared for her so much, then?” she said.

Star Swirl looked back up at Princess Celestia on her throne. “I cared for all of them so much, Princess,” he said. “The ponies I met are a part of me now. Every one of them.”

Something in Princess Celestia’s eye twinkled.

“And that, my dear student,” she said, “is the magic of Friendship.”

The two of them looked at each other. For that moment, Star Swirl looked Princess Celestia as squarely in the eye as if he were looking at Princess Luna. And that was a satisfying feeling.

Princess Celestia rose from her throne and descended to Star Swirl.

“I think,” she said, “you’ve proven that you’re ready, Star Swirl.”

Star Swirl looked up at the princess. “Ready?” he said. “Ready for what?”

Princess Celestia’s horn started to glow, with the pulsing, golden light of dawn. The throne room began to fade away, as if into diamond-bright mist.

The last thing Star Swirl saw with his waking eyes was the look of surprise on Princess Luna’s face, and then he was lifted from the earth, into a nameless beyond.

Star Swirl looked around, and felt as if he had stepped into the sky.

The stars breaking out of the firmament above him were different than any he had ever seen. Great clouds of stars, washing over him in colors he’d never imagined. And all around him was that diamond-mist, white as snow, dancing around him in wisps and rolling waves.

Star Swirl took a step forward. This must be a dream, he thought, but nonetheless, his hooves worked well enough, and they carried him over the misty plane.

And there was Princess Celestia, standing before him, looking as if she had risen out of the mist herself. And then Star Swirl realized the nature of the place: It was as if he had fallen into Princess Celestia’s mane, that mane of colored light and unreality.

“Princess,” said Star Swirl, “what is this place?”

“I have something for you, Star Swirl,” she said.

From the corner of his eye, Star Swirl saw something moving in the mist. He turned and peered into the blur.

“Princess Luna had such faith in you, Star Swirl,” said Princess Celestia. “To be a part of your life – to offer you her guidance – has meant more to her than you might know.”

The shapes in the mist solidified into silhouettes, and all at once Star Swirl realized what he was seeing. It was an earth pony and a unicorn mare, huddling together, coddling something wrapped in a blanket. The earth pony vanished, and the unicorn mare hugged the bundle all the tighter. Then the mare disappeared, and suddenly the bundle fell open, and there stood the outline of a young unicorn, draped in a cloak.

Star Swirl watched his life.

The shapes of books and quills and inkwells and rolls of parchment materialized overhead, orbiting the shape of the young unicorn, who read, and wrote, and grew. Behind him, watching over him, was an alicorn, reading over his shoulder, handing him books, placing a reassuring hoof on his shoulder.

“After all of your studying,” said Princess Celestia, “after all of your work and your dedication, you have grown to be ready of my gift for you. You have tasted the magic of Friendship, and you have been forever changed by its power…”

Three new figures appeared in the mist. Three earth ponies.

“… You have been touched by grief…”

One figure vanished.

“… And you have fought for the greater good of Equestria.”

A gangly, graceless creature walked toward them in the mist. It wore a unicorn’s horn, but was no unicorn. It, too, disappeared.

All the remaining figures and books and quills fell away, back into the starry void. Star Swirl turned back toward the princess, the two of them alone again.

“There is wisdom in you, Star Swirl,” said Princess Celestia. “And now, I offer you a new responsibility… A new purpose in your life.”

Star Swirl’s eyes shone as brightly as the stars overhead. “How do you mean?” he asked.

“The stars, Star Swirl. That is what I offer you. Dominion over the stars.”

The lights above the two of them seemed to shimmer at that. All of them, beautiful.

“You will sit beside my sister and I,” said Princess Celestia, “as a new ruler of Equestria. A Prince of the Realm. And you will keep balance. This is your new life, Star Swirl. This is the Purpose I offer you.”

“The Purpose you offer me,” Star Swirl breathed. Princess Celestia looked at him, and saw that he was a child again, wonder filling him up entirely.

Princess Celestia’s smile rivaled the stars. “Yes, Star Swirl. Oh, I knew that you would prove yourself. After reading your work, after all that Princess Luna told me of you, I knew that you had the strength to learn the world’s most advanced magical theory. I knew, from the moment I first sent you to Whither’s Hollow, that you could discover the magic of Friendship, and protect your friends from the Jackals. I knew that you would do what had to be done to secure the future of our species. There is such wisdom in you, Star Swirl, blossoming already. The rest of your life lies before you. You cannot help but succeed.”

Princess Celestia looked into Star Swirl’s eyes, to see that wonder again, that blessed fulfillment, that promise of a long, fruitful future –

Something was wrong.

A dawning confusion in Star Swirl’s mind considered the words of Princess Celestia, dissecting and examining. Those words…

I knew, from the moment I first sent you to Whither’s Hollow… protect your friends from the Jackals…

Sudden and sharp, clarity burned in Star Swirl’s mind. He looked up at the princess.

“You knew.”

Something happened. Star Swirl reached deep inside himself, and with a cold, relentless explosion of magic, he tore the misty plane asunder.

Star Swirl felt himself falling. The stars began dying in the sky. The mist rose up, wild and tumultuous, and the white nothing soon obscured everything.

Princess Celestia, so surprised by Star Swirl, so surprised by this magic, could do nothing to prevent the dreamlike world from collapsing, and the two of them together went tumbling back down to earth.

They returned to themselves in the throne room, just where they had left.

They were both breathing fast. Princess Celestia swallowed, eyes wide, unsure what to make of it.

Sweat began to break out on Star Swirl’s brow. He eyed the princess with deadly precision, and quickly backed away from her. His voice was venom.

“You knew,” he said. “From the moment I first stepped into this throne room… Long before I’d even arrived at the palace gates… you knew…”

Luna's eyes danced between the two of them, wide and fearing. "Sister," she said, "Star Swirl, what's happened?"

Celestia tried to regain her composure. “Star Swirl,” she said, her voice low and restrained, “I’m not sure what’s the matter. If you can help me understand – ”

“The Jackals,” Star Swirl hissed. “You sent me out to Whithers Hollow, alone, with no one to help me, with no one to help them… And you knew what was out there. You knew that any night, we all might die in our sleep.”

Celestia felt as if the floor had dropped out from under her. She fought to keep her voice level. “I see,” she said. “You are concerned about the Jackals. I can understand that, certainly, yes. You see, Star Swirl… The threat of the Jackals… Well, it presented a very… delicate political situation. But you trusted me, and that’s what counts. And it’s all resolved now, thanks to you. The king is gone, and the threat of the Jackals is being purged as we speak. I couldn’t have dreamed of a cleaner end to this horrible affair.”

Star Swirl’s eyes began to water in his fury. “You knew,” he cried, voice breaking, “and ponies have died. They’ve died, Celestia. Because of you. Because you wouldn’t trust me.”

“No, Star Swirl, that is not why I – ”

“No, you’re right. That’s not why.” The water in his eyes dried up, and a dark, burning fire replaced it. “Why did you do it? Because instead of telling me the truth, you decided it would be simpler to manipulate me. I was nothing but a shield against the Jackals to you, wasn’t I? I was a puppet dancing on your strings all along, and I was too much a trusting fool to know it. Is this your precious version of friendship, Celestia? A version where trust only has to be given one way, as long as it all works out in the end, even if it costs blood – ”

“Enough, Star Swirl.”

Celestia planted a hoof on the marble floor, and the resounding CRACK shook the throne room.

She spoke. “The ponies of Equestria,” she said, “put all of their faith in me to lead. And that is what I do. It is not always easy, and not every choice I make comes without a cost. But whatever I do, I do because I care for this land. I am no trickster. I am the Princess of – ”

“Tell me, Princess,” Star Swirl said, “how many students have you had? How many ponies have you taken under your wing? How many have you twisted and manipulated for your own secret purposes? Was I the first? Will I be the last?”

Celestia drew herself up to her full height. She stood over Star Swirl like the threat of a terrible storm.

“I do not,” said Celestia, her voice filling the hall, every syllable falling with the weight of a cannonball, “have any obligation to justify myself. Not to you, Star Swirl. Not to any pony.”

“Sister, stop this.”

Celestia whirled around. There stood Luna, beside the throne. Her gaze shifted between Celestia and Star Swirl. She walked to them.

“Celestia,” she said, cool and cautious, “please. You are too severe. Listen to Star Swirl. And Star Swirl, give my sister a chance to explain herself. There is no need for this – ”

“Luna,” said Celestia, “stop.”

Luna stopped. Celestia’s nostrils flared.

“This,” Celestia said, “does not concern you.”

Luna’s eyes narrowed.

“It most certainly does, sister,” she said. “And you are wrong, by the way. There is one pony that you must justify yourself to. And that’s me.”

Celestia turned fully on her sister, breathing fast. “The burden,” she said, “falls on me. The ponies of the land look to me.”

A shade of exhaustion flashed over Luna’s face. She turned her gaze from her sister. The short silence was electric.

Finally Luna committed herself, and looked her sister in the eye.

“Yes, they do,” she said. “But I will say it now, or else I fear I never will. You are changed. The love of the common folk is wonderful, yes, but to you – it bloats your head as much as it bloats your heart, Celestia. Ever since the Fall of Discord, you’ve labored under this self-imposed responsibility to rule. Well, I am here, Celestia. I am here to be your partner and your sister. I have longed to be both again for years. You don’t have to rule alone. And you can’t.”

Celestia stared at her sister, dumbfounded.

Suddenly her face darkened, and there was a great flash of light, so bright and hot that both Star Swirl and Luna had to shield their faces.

Celestia’s horn was a beacon of daylight. Her eyes brimmed with Sun Fire. An unnatural wind swept the hall.

The Royal Guards flattened themselves against the wall, watching with wide eyes and trembling limbs as Celestia rose into the air and looked down on Star Swirl and Luna.

“I am the Morning,” she boomed. “I am the warmth and the light and the life of day. And I shall speak.”

She looked down on her sister. Luna looked up, shielding her eyes.

“If I have every pony’s love but yours, sister, so be it. I cannot change your heart.”

Star Swirl peered over at Luna. Even in the blinding light, he could still make out the silver shine of tears running down her face.

Celestia turned her gaze on Star Swirl.

“And you, Star Swirl. Your arrogance and faithlessness is insulting and pitiable. I have given you my support and my guidance. In return, you have given me your hatred. Hear this: You have failed to master the magic of Friendship. Your tutelage has come to an end. Leave Canterlot Palace. And do not return, so long as discord burns within you.”

Star Swirl squinted against the light and the wind. He removed his hat, glaring up at the inferno above him with a strange sort of deference. With a voice both quiet and commanding, he spoke.

“I hope,” he said, “that one day, I will meet the Princess Celestia who is so loved and celebrated by the ponies of Equestria. I am told that she is wise and just; the great leader of our kind. Perhaps we may yet see her again in my lifetime. Perhaps she never existed at all. But I will not find her here."

Star Swirl looked to Princess Luna. Then, he spoke again to Celestia.

“I do not belong in this empty throne room, I belong in the world. That is where I’m bound. And I shouldn’t wait here a second longer. And so; goodbye.”

Star Swirl placed his hat back on his head and turned.

“Star Swirl!” Luna cried.

But Star Swirl was already gone. He marched back up the long red carpet, past the petrified guards, and out the doors. As the hem of his cloak disappeared into the hall, the tall double doors swung shut. The metallic boom of their closing sang with finality – gong – and then shimmered into stillness.

Celestia descended from the air.

The light of her horn faded to nothing. The fires in her eyes burnt out. Her hooves touched the floor, and she stood, trembling and panting, staring at the closed doors.

Her eyes flickered to the Royal Guards, and stuck there. She had never seen them as they were. She had never seen them look at her as they looked at her today. Not one of them stood as straight as a rod. Not one of them covered his face with the hard glaze of discipline.

No – instead, they stood there, seeming utterly small in their armor, looking up at the princess in panic and fear. And unease… yes, she saw that, too. They did not know what Princess Celestia would do next.

They did not trust her.

She attempted a reassuring smile. “My most loyal guards,” said Celestia, her voice thin and weary after the roaring of her declarations, “why do you shake? Back to your accustomed positions, please. All’s well…” She took a tottering step toward them.

The guard standing closest to the door flinched.

It was a nearly imperceptible thing; a twitch, at best; but Celestia saw it. She stopped. The guard’s hoof had, for a fraction of a second, flashed in the direction of the closed double doors.

You, too, thought Celestia, the world swimming before her. Always, your bond to me was unbreakable, my Royal Guards. Always, you followed me. You followed me best of all. But now. But now, you, too, are fearful. Distrusting. I have finally lost my Royal Guard.

A single thought, vast and overwhelming and fathomless as the sea, swam into focus before Princess Celestia:

I have been too severe.

Luna’s voice was a whip-crack. “Guards,” she said, “leave us.”

And they did, quickly. The throne room doors opened and closed, and then Celestia and Luna were alone.

Celestia turned to her sister, every raging fire in her heart extinguished.

“Luna,” she said, eyes glistening. “You understand. You must understand. Moments ago, I was cruel to you. That voice was not mine… It ought not to be mine. I’m sorry, sister – ”

Princess Luna hastened past Celestia toward the doors, without a second glance for her sister.

Celestia did not understand. “Sister,” she called, “sweet, dear Luna, I am sorry that – ”

Luna whirled around. Her eyes were daggers.

“You’re sorry,” she whispered.

Celestia had never heard such a voice from Luna before. It was pitiless, it was unforgiving. It was an accusation.

The cold, sharp steel of truth came crashing down around her, and she was speechless.

Luna flew to the doors, leaving Celestia alone in the throne room, with the dark spirits of terrible mistakes hovering over her.

Star Swirl had nearly reached the Western Tower when he heard Princess Luna’s voice calling out behind him:

“Star Swirl! Wait, please!”

Star Swirl stopped and turned in the warmly lit hall. Princess Luna landed before him, catching her breath.

“Are you all right, my student?” she said. “Are you hurt? If you’ve been hurt, I swear I’ll – ”

“No, Princess. I’m unhurt.”

Star Swirl himself was surprised to hear the cool calm in his voice. His heart beat steady and slow. He could feel the power of that calm sleeping inside him.

Princess Luna heard it, too. “Are you certain you’re all right?” she said.

“I’m fine, Princess, truly. Better. I am extraordinary.”

“I am sorry for her, Star Swirl, for your sake and mine, I will always be sorry for her – ”

“But I am not.” As he drew himself up to his full height, Star Swirl was surprised by how tall he truly was. He wasn’t all that much smaller than Princess Luna.

Star Swirl went on. “Whatever happens in Princess Celestia’s head,” he said, “one thing she said is true. My tutelage is over. I will stand on my own hooves now. I must.”

Even now – after he thought his soul was finally numb – Star Swirl felt a trickle of sadness inside him, now that it came right down to it. To saying goodbye.

“You have been so good to me, Princess Luna,” he said. “I’ll never forget it. But I will look to no pony else for guidance. That time is gone. My life begins. I intend to live it well.”

Princess Luna looked at her student, almost as if he wasn’t quite her student any longer.

“What will you do?” she asked.

“I’ll start by travelling. Much good can come of that. And I think… It’s what she would have wanted. If I find adventure, or friendship, or even a Purpose in this life… Well. That’s not up to me. But I will hire a carriage immediately to Whither’s Hollow. There, I will collect a few things. And then – I am off.”

Luna looked at him. Then she nodded. “You would not consider staying here,” she said, with a sort of tired resignation. “When my sister has had time, she may regret her words.”

Star Swirl shook his head. “Princess,” he said, “I am impatient to begin.”

Luna went to him, and two of them embraced for the very last time.

“Be safe, Star Swirl,” she whispered. “Be smart. Be safe.”

They parted. For a fleeting instant, they shared a final look. A final connection. Then Star Swirl turned, and in a flurry of starry blue, he was gone.

Celestia sat on the floor beside her throne. Her gaze was lost in space and thought. Her mane did not shine so brilliantly as before. The feathers of her wings were ruffled, and her splendid white coat was somehow dulled; as if the Princess had gone out from her. Quiet reigned.

I have been too severe.

Celestia had dismissed all but one of her Royal Guards. Their wits were scattered, and she felt it best that they were allowed a rest. The Captain alone kept sigil at the doors.

Best, she thought. Best for them. Best for them. Yes. That is good.

A week before, a day before, Celestia would have bid the guards collect themselves and return to their posts. That would have been best for her. But today, that did not seem wisest.

Celestia turned her eyes to the Captain, an armored statue. She raised a hoof and gently waved him over. He was at her side immediately.

“Captain,” she said, “the purge of the Jackals. Do you happen to know what its status is presently?”

“Your Highness, the ponies involved in the purge will be in place and ready to begin their assault by this evening at the latest.”

“Please send letters to the group leaders. The purge must be revised.”

“… Your Highness?”

Celestia stood. She moved like a dragon, waking from a long sleep.

“Yes,” she said. “It occurs to me now that we are dealing improperly with the matter. My original instructions were for the Jackals to be subdued by any means necessary. That is the most practical course. The easiest course. But… it is not what is right. I will not be responsible for a genocide. Draft a letter to the group leaders, and tell them that no Jackal is to be killed. They are all to be contained, and transported back to Tartarus. The Jackals are so much less in power now, that this should be possible, without risking the lives of my subjects needlessly. If all falls together, we might remove the Jackals without a single casualty. But only if the Royal Guards and court unicorns do not opt for the easiest solutions. Will you please see to it that this message is prepared, Captain? I shall consult with my sister, and you shall receive further instructions shortly.”

“At once, Princess Celestia.”

“Thank you.”

The Captain bowed and left at a trot. Princess Celestia smoothed her ruffled wings and blinked the fog from her eyes.

No sooner had the Captain left than Princess Luna appeared in the doorway.

Celestia’s breath caught for a moment. Then she walked to her sister.

“Hello, Luna,” she said. Her voice was gentle; Celestia felt as if everything inside her was somehow gentler. “If I may, I would like to consult with you on some official plans. The purge… I would like to prohibit the murder of Jackals. It is entirely possible for – ”

Smack.

Luna’s hoof swept through the air like a knife, slapping Celestia across the face with deadly precision. For a moment, Celestia was paralyzed by the stinging on her cheek. She lifted a hoof to her face and closed her eyes.

“That, I think,” said Celestia, “has been long in coming.”

Luna tried several times to speak, but nearly chocked each time, her eyes watering with white hot anger. Finally the words came.

“Ascension,” she said. “You offered Star Swirl Ascension. And not a word of it, not the barest hint, did you breathe to me.”

“That was awful of me, sister, I see that now. I was so hasty… Why was I so hasty… But now, we must work together to – ”

“And then.” Luna began slowly circling Celestia, cat-like and icy. “Your rage… The ridiculous, selfish dramatics of it! And you dismissed Star Swirl. My great friend, my greatest student – our greatest hope for a worthy heir – cast out, as if he were nothing but a pawn with too many opinions. This has gone on – you have gone on for long enough, Celestia. When you dismiss Star Swirl, you dismiss me.”

“You are right.”

Celestia could not find the will to argue. For the first time in too long, she bowed her head before the one pony she must answer to.

“And you have been right,” said Celestia, lifting her head, “in all that you’ve said. I am too severe. And I have been too severe for too long. Things will change, sister – Oh, you will see the change, you’ll see it with your waking eyes, I promise you! There is a path that leads to benevolence, a path to patience and wisdom. And I shall journey it, come what may.”

“No.”

The word chilled Celestia to the marrow.

“I know you, Celestia,” Luna said. “Today you repent, to win back my favor. But tomorrow…”

Luna’s face was difficult to read. Dark. Piercing. Strong.

“No, Celestia,” said Luna. “You cannot undo what you’ve done. You cannot unmake yourself. I know you… I know you so very well. Look at me, sister, look around you, and see, truly see what you are, what you’ve done.” Her voice began to rise. “You’ve destroyed our last hope for an heir. You’ve pushed me aside, Celestia, just as the rest of them do, just like the rest of Equestria, and I cannot bear it. I used to have a family in you, but even that, you’ve taken from me with your negligence and selfishness! You’ve… You’ve made a waking nightmare of my life, Celestia! Rule as you’d like, alone, unhindered – I’ll have no more part in your devilish farce. Yes, I see now that it’s true, there can only be one princess in Equestria. And the fates have fallen on you. I leave you with your kingdom, Your Highness. Goodbye. May the ponies of Equestria thrive under the blistering heat of the sun.”

Luna rose into the air on wings like rolling ocean waves, tsunamis, and soared to the throne room doors.

Princess Celestia ran for her, a hoof in the air, reaching. “Sister!” she cried. “Please!”

Luna crashed through the doors and vanished, leaving only wind in her wake.

The air settled. Celestia quickly went to a window, looking out at the front of the palace. She could just see the tops of the palace walls from here –

Far away, at the gates, a bolt of night blue shot into the sky, wheeling on wings that cut the air like razors. Into the sky climbed the blue arrow, and into the distance. So soon, the speeding blur disappeared entirely, melting into the bright sky of day.

Celestia stood, staring out the window at the spot where her sister had disappeared. For how long, she knew not. The sound of hoof steps clattered behind her.

“Your Majesty,” said the Captain of the Royal Guard, “Princess Luna… Has something happened, Your Highness?”

“Yes.”

Princess Celestia turned from the window. “Do not go after her,” she said. “It is not my place to act as Princess Luna’s authority. I think she will come back. It may be some time… But I do hope that she will come back.”

Princess Celestia walked to the open throne room doors.

“Princess,” said the Captain behind her, “is there any way I might be of help? What are you planning to do now?”

Princess Celestia stopped in the doorway and turned to the Captain with a smile.

“I plan to do what a princess must,” she said. “The realm is imperfect. Thus, there is work to do.”

Star Swirl was as good as his word. That evening he arrived back at Whither’s Hollow. He spent the following morning packing a few things from thirty-three Blackwood Road. Only enough to fill a modest backpack worn over his cloak. The road would be long, Star Swirl knew, and it would be best to travel light.

For the remainder of the day, Star Swirl made his farewells. Farewell, he said, to the baker and the butcher. Farewell, he said, to Agnes Whither, and the shop owner who had sold him his hat. Farewell, he said, to the lonely maple tree standing on the green riverside, and the darkened windows of The Blue Rose. Farewell, he said, to thirty-three Blackwood Road, and the small town which had grown to be his home.

The sun began to sink, and soon enough, it was time for Star Swirl to make his final farewells.

With his pack on his back and his hat on his head, Star Swirl stood on the dusty road just on the outskirts of Whither’s Hollow; the lonely bridge connecting the town with the rest of the world. With him stood Pan and Emory. The light of the sunset clung to them all like rich golden silk.

Star Swirl sighed at the sight of his friends. He spoke first. “I wish,” he said, “that you could come with me.”

He looked at Pan. His time in Whither’s Hollow, too, was ending. In a few days Pan would begin his journey south, homeward bound.

Earlier that day, Star Swirl had invited Pan to his cottage, and there they sat and spoke. To clear the air, to say everything that needed saying.

“I have a terrible feeling,” Star Swirl had said, “that I misled you, Pan. And you deserve so much better than that…”

And Pan had said, smiling with watery eyes, “No, Star Swirl. You were a perfect friend to me. And me, well… I was searching for something that wasn't there. Foolish…”

“No, Pan, you weren't foolish at all –”

“Please, listen to me, Star Swirl – I think I've realized something important. I told you before that my cutie mark was a flute, and that sometimes, I felt like little more than that flute. That friendship was a stranger to me, along with anything more… But I was wrong. I'm more than a cutie mark. I know that now. And that started with you, Star Swirl. It started with a small, enormous step – with having a friend.”

Pan’s face had been a shifting plain, an expanse that said many things at once. “But if we have to part soon," he had said, quiet as a prayer, “then I can leave, with what I never knew… I can have friends. I learned that from this town, from Lily, Emory… but so much of it, I learned from you, Star Swirl. And that’s all I ever wanted.”

And now, they stood on the road, breathing the sweet, golden air together. Pan and Star Swirl's eyes met. With a trembling smile, Pan rushed to Star Swirl and threw his front legs around him. Star Swirl was surprised by the earnestness of the embrace. But it was a happy thing, and he returned it.

Pan backed away, his eyes beginning to glisten, and Emory stepped forward. He, too, could not travel with Star Swirl. “I’m sorry, my friend,” he had said when Star Swirl asked. “I am needed here.”

Now, as the daylight cooled, Emory beamed at his friend with shining eyes. “This,” he said, “is not too far from where we first met, Star Swirl. I remember it. We said our hellos; I helped you with your bags. There was a moment when I wondered if you would let me help you, or not.”

“You’ll never know,” said Star Swirl, “how glad I am that I did.”

Star Swirl removed his hat. Suddenly his face, which had been shrouded in shadow, was bathed in the slanting sunset. He reached into the pockets of his cloak, and as if from another world, he produced a tiny shell of gold, a fragment of light, whispering a golden ripple in his hoof. A bell.

He secured the bell to the rim of his hat. He put the hat back on his head. Free now, the golden bell sang softly in the breeze. Ding, it sang. Ding.

“I will be back one day,” said Star Swirl. “I’ve left some of my things in thirty-three Blackwood Road. Some papers, some candles… Some books… That is my promise. In the meanwhile, I take this bell with me. This bell means home. And so do you. Both of you. I shall take you with me, wherever I go. If I hadn’t met you – if you hadn’t taught me – I would not be the pony I am today. Thank you. I have been honored by your tutelage.”

Pan and Emory both knew that Star Swirl would keep his promise. So, when Star Swirl smiled at the two of them one last time, turned, and started down the road, they were not as sad as they might have been. Soon the sun was only a glow over the horizon. When Star Swirl was nothing but a fading blue figure in the distance, Pan and Emory returned to Whither’s Hollow. The yellow lights in their windows soon dimmed, and all slept easily.

Overhead, the stars came to life. For Star Swirl, that was light enough. He could see clearly the road before him. He saw that it was endless, and his pace quickened.

Words once spoken to Star Swirl by Princess Luna echoed in his ears. You may not feel it, Star Swirl, but you are still very young… Please remember how much more life you have ahead of you. Star Swirl remembered. He was glad he remembered.

And the road went on.

Star Swirl the Bearded

Decades passed.

The seasons spun. The world changed. Ponies journeyed through their lives, like so many gears in a vast and inscrutable clock.

Even Whither’s Hollow, with its roots secured so deeply in the earth, was not exempt from the buffeting winds of time. Ponies came and went. Paint faded.

One autumn morning, many years after the night Star Swirl first set off on his adventures, Emory Whither walked from his home into the streets of Whither’s Hollow.

The buildings Emory walked through had not changed so much; some new coats of paint, some new fences, and some newly installed electric doorbells formed the bulk of their transformations. Emory himself, however, had changed a great deal.

He was no longer a strapping stallion who undoubtedly won all the mares. He had thinned. His coat of blue fur had faded to a lighter shade, much like the fur of his dear departed grandmother Agnes, in her last days. His face was deeply lined with unspoken thoughts, worries, and the shadows of countless smiles.

The cold morning air seemed colder than it had once been. These days, Emory needed a jacket, or a scarf, at least, to shield himself from the autumn chill. As he walked through the streets and watched ponies going about their business, he marveled. How quickly they walk, he thought, and how few of them wear coats on these cold mornings. I hope no one catches a chill.

Emory exchanged many a pleasant hello with passersby, who called out to him:

“Good morning, Mayor Emory!”

“Hello, Mayor – I was so happy to speak with you at the town meeting!”

“Drop by the coffee shop sometime, Mayor; have anything you’d like, on me.”

And Emory always had time to spare a word.

Eventually, he arrived at his destination; the post office. He slipped a letter into the mailbox out in front and stopped to catch his breath.

The post office wasn’t far from the edge of town. From the front steps, Emory could see how the road shot out into infinity, leaving the town to its small comings and goings.

Emory had never left. He had meant to, at least once. To see Canterlot, or any city. Or something larger than life. Like a mountain. But there never seemed to be days enough in the year. In any case, he didn’t mind. They needed him, there in town, and Emory was happy to be needed.

A hoof tapped on Emory’s shoulder. “Mayor Emory?”

Emory turned and smiled down at a short green colt, who was only just stepping into adulthood – Lewis. Emory knew his family well.

“Morning, Lewis,” said Emory. “What can I do for you?”

“My dad said I should tell you, sir; he just got the last delivery of electric light bulbs for the street lamps.”

“Aha.” Emory had been expecting that delivery for a few days. Over the past five years or so, the lamps and candles lining the streets and windows of Whither’s Hollow slowly began to give way to the bizarre-looking glass devices called light bulbs. Many of Emory’s friends and advisors had urged him against encouraging such a conversion. Too expensive, they said, and it would be far too difficult to procure a reliable source of electricity. It would be best to stick to gas lamps and other, more reliable light sources.

But Emory was fascinated by the potential of electric lights. It stirred something deep inside him, the science of making light where once there was none. His mind sprang to life. The nearby river could provide enough energy to light the streets at least, and perhaps Emory could eventually convince a glass blower or two to settle in Whither’s Hollow, should demand for light bulbs grow.

Nearly all the gas lamps had been converted. Now, the last delivery had come. Within a month, the streets of Whither’s Hollow would be a modern marvel, the likes of which most citizens might only expect from Canterlot.

“Thank you, Lewis,” said Emory. “Please tell your father that I’ll send a pony to pick them up tomorrow. We’ll finish converting this week.”

“Thank you, Mayor Emory.”

“Of course.”

Lewis bounded off down the street. Emory watched him. As Emory grew older, youth became more and more mysterious. Had Emory truly ever been able to move like that? Had there really ever been a time when he hadn’t needed a jacket on a cool autumn morning? It was harder to imagine with every passing year. Every month. Every day.

Emory shivered and prepared for the walk back home. He cast a glance out at the endless road once more.

He paused. His eyes lingered on the horizon.

Emory recognized the figure in blue instantly. He sometimes spent his few idle hours out at the edge of town, imagining just such a figure, wondering if today would be the day. And the day had come.

Emory smiled. With the agility of a much younger stallion, he set off down the road toward the figure in blue.

Star Swirl had come home.

When Emory walked back into town with Star Swirl at his side, the ponies of Whither’s Hollow took immediate notice. Heads peered out of windows, conversations dropped to excited whispers, and every pony tried for a glance at the old unicorn, as discretely as possible.

Star Swirl’s blue hat and cloak were as rich in color as the day he had left. The bell swaying from the brim of his hat glimmered and rang with quiet dignity. An air of otherworldliness hung about him.

It was Star Swirl himself who had changed most. Though he was younger than Emory, he did not look it. His fur, already gray by nature, was streaked with white. His eyes, once dark and deep and clear, had been clouded by the years. His face was lined severely, as if a sign that his skin had grown weary of holding his bones together. And hanging so low it almost touched the ground, Star Swirl wore a snowy-white beard. It tapered to a soft point, the hair rough in texture, as if a cloud had been sculpted from white wild grass.

Whither’s Hollow had heard all about Star Swirl, of course. Every pony in Equestria with ears to hear with had heard about Star Swirl the Bearded.

The whispers flew: He’s exactly as I pictured him. I heard he never had a family, never a friend in Equestria. Did you know he spent his youth right here, in Whither’s Hollow? Born in thirty-three Blackwood Road, I hear. And so on.

As ponies entertained themselves with gossip and speculation, Star Swirl and Emory walked the streets together.

Star Swirl looked up at the street lamps overhead. “I see you’re investing in electricity,” said Star Swirl. His voice was low and warm and thoughtful. “Good for you. There’s magic enough in electricity for everyone.”

“Yes,” said Emory, “it’s a marvel, isn’t it? Electricity. I heard that a pony tied a key to a kite in the middle of a lightning storm, to further our knowledge of it. Was that you, my friend? I hear you’ve been so busy, after all.”

“No, afraid not,” said Star Swirl. “But who do you think conjured the lightning storm?”

They laughed and walked on.

Emory came to a stop in a street lined with shops. He turned his attention to a sign hanging over a door. Star Swirl followed his gaze.

“What do you think, Star Swirl?” Emory asked.

Star Swirl turned his glazed eyes upward, as if squinting through clouds. “I apologize, my friend, my eyes aren’t what they were. Just a moment…”

Emory looked on as Star Swirl peered up at the sign. Emory reached into his jacket and produced a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles.

“My eyes are going as well,” said Emory. “I’d never read again, if it weren’t for these. Would you like to try them out?”

Star Swirl looked at the copper glimmer of the spectacles in Emory’s hoof, then back at the sign, giving it one last try on his own.

He gave Emory a half-smile and held out his hoof. “All right, Emory,” he said. “But only because it’s you.”

Emory put the spectacles in Star Swirl’s hoof. Star Swirl placed them on his nose and blinked back up at the sign.

“‘Whither’s… Wonders,’” Star Swirl read. “I don’t remember this shop.”

“It’s still young. Only a few years in standing. You see, I’ve found that old age isn’t entirely a curse. My sons are beginning to take over some managerial duties of the town, preparing themselves for the future. I still do what I can, but even if I felt ten years younger, there comes a time when the torch must pass. So, I’ve been able to devote some of my time to more personal pursuits. Lighting the streets of the town with electrics, for instance. And opening this shop. A place devoted to science. It’s filled with books, experiments, pyrotechnics… It’s a strange thing, Star Swirl. I’ve just about fulfilled my responsibilities to Whither’s Hollow. And now, I have a chance to taste the life left unlived. It makes me very happy.”

Star Swirl carefully removed the spectacles and gazed into space. “Sons,” he said.

“Yes,” said Emory. “Two sons. Both in their twenties now.”

Star Swirl turned back to Emory. “I’ve been gone for a long time,” he said. “I wish I could have come back sooner… shared some of your life…”

“Don’t say that, Star Swirl. You’re here now, that’s reason enough to be glad. After all, we’ve all heard the stories of you and your adventures, even in this tiny little pocket of the world. Just by the power of your stories, you were never far away.”

Star Swirl cleared his throat.

“I heard about Pan,” he said

A short pause. Emory’s eyes glazed.

“Yes,” he muttered, “Pan. How peculiar… It’s been years since I’ve heard that name.”

“I’m sorry. For that, at least, I should have been here.”

“He was happy near the end, and he lived long. That’s what counts. He wouldn’t have wanted us to mourn him forever.”

Star Swirl nodded. He extended a hoof to Emory, bearing gleaming copper wires. “Thank you for the spectacles,” he said.

Emory took the spectacles from Star Swirl’s hoof. “Of course.”

A soft silence passed.

“Well,” said Emory, “let me help you settle back in. Your place is ready for you.”

“My place? You mean, on Blackwood Road?”

“Yes. We always knew you would be back, so we’ve kept it ready. It’s clean, it’s livable, and it hasn’t changed much. Many of your old possessions are still sitting inside, where you left them.”

“Where I left them,” Star Swirl echoed. He cast his eyes around the streets.

“You know, Emory,” he said, “even though I always knew I would come back one day, I never expected the town to feel so familiar. Not after all these years. I was half afraid that I could never come home again.”

“Nonsense. You’re a friend to us all. We’ll always be here to welcome you home.”

Star Swirl adjusted his hat and faced Emory again, smiling, his features tired and unreadable. “Thank you.”

And so, Emory and Star Swirl departed from the shop that had once been called The Blue Rose, silently satisfied, and made their journey across the town. Soon enough they arrived at a dusty old road overgrown by grass and weeds. At the end of that road, tucked out of sight beyond a green hill, sat a cottage.

They parted, and Star Swirl disappeared into thirty-three Blackwood Road. And as the sun fell, a tiny green light danced in the window, a flame still burning after years and years, its wait finally over.

Two weeks went by before Princess Celestia came. The rich, sweet melancholy of autumn had descended in full. The trees of Blackwood Forest were set afire by the season, shimmering in all hues of crimson and gold and bronze.

One day, Princess Celestia’s carriage appeared in the clear blue sky. At a glance, it seemed like a second sun, blazing with white and gold as it soared across the dome of the heavens.

The carriage came gliding down to a halt in Whither’s Hollow. (That was certainly an arrival none of the townsfolk would forget.) By the time all the bowing and all the courteous how-do-you-dos were done, the princess bid her subjects a kind thank-you-and-farewell, and set off alone toward the edge of town.

As the princess walked down Blackwood Road, the road disappearing and a green hill rising before her, she remembered her student of old. His curious dark eyes, his burning intellect, all as clear in her memory as daylight, after so long.

So long, she thought. Ponies change. In truth, I am not certain who I will be speaking with today…

The princess reached the crest of the hill, and laid her eyes upon Star Swirl.

A tiny cottage sat near a forest’s edge, a thin plume of smoke issuing from its single chimney. Star Swirl sat on a tree stump, a little ways away from the front door, a smoking wooden pipe in his hoof. He wore a rich blue cloak, exactly as Princess Celestia recalled, its hem peppered with stars of curious sizes and colors. His face was shadowed by a pointed, widely-brimmed hat, a vibrant blue to match his cloak. A small golden bell hung down from the hat’s brim, somehow at home with the bright autumn fires alight in the treetops.

Star Swirl drank from his pipe and exhaled slowly, the smoke drifting lazily about him as he pondered in oblivion. Then he paused. A moment went by, and his shadowed face turned to the princess on the hill.

Star Swirl adjusted his hat, and the sunlight found his face. Princess Celestia observed him; she knew that face. It was faded and wrinkled, yes, but it was familiar.

She descended to meet him.

As she did, Star Swirl offered her a polite smile. “Princess Celestia,” he said. “What an unexpected honor.”

The Princess, pleased and surprised by Star Swirl’s smile, offered him one of her own. “Star Swirl,” she said. “The honor is mine, to meet one of the great heroes of our age.”

“You are too kind.”

“You look well.”

“And you, my Princess, are as youthful and radiant as ever.”

Star Swirl’s face was set in a position of courteous deference. His tone of voice was pleasant and cordial. But his eyes told the princess the truth. Old and clouded they might have been, but still they flickered carefully, considering, studying.

He drank once more from his pipe, his gaze never faltering from the princess. “May I ask,” said Star Swirl, the smoke billowing from his mouth in small bursts, “what brings you here, Princess?”

“I’ve been meaning to speak to you for some time now, Star Swirl. But you’ve been a difficult unicorn to track down. You certainly haven’t been idle, have you?”

“I try not to be. But now, I’m afraid that I’m finally starting to feel my years. I always meant to return to Whither’s Hollow. I’m glad I had a chance to do so, while I still breathe air. Consider this my brief retirement.”

Princess Celestia smiled and nodded. She let a silence pass.

“Star Swirl,” she said. “We have much to talk about.”

Star Swirl’s polite deference melted into solemnity. “Yes,” he said, “I think we do.”

His horn flickered white, and the smoking pipe extinguished itself. “May I suggest,” said Star Swirl, depositing his pipe into the folds of his cloak, “that we speak somewhere more comfortable? I know a very peaceful spot, where we will not be disturbed.”

“That sounds fine, Star Swirl. Please, lead on.”

Star Swirl stood from the stump and started walking. Princess Celestia followed.

After a short walk over grassy fields and gentle slopes, the two arrived at a hill, rising out of the earth not far from Star Swirl’s cottage. They climbed to the top, and Princess Celestia was surprised by the lovely view. A green ocean all around, a warm autumn forest on one side, and the expanse of Whither’s Hollow on the other. From that high hill, it was easy to see how small the town was, and how wide the world.

With a grunt, Star Swirl sat on the grass, his movements deliberate and somehow brittle. “Here,” he said. “The grass is soft. Do you mind, Princess?”

Princess Celestia looked at Star Swirl, and realized that he was referring to the plainness of the spot. She smiled and shook her head. “Of course not, Star Swirl,” she said. “A princess may sit in the grass.”

Star Swirl examined her, and then returned her smile. “That is reassuring,” he said.

The two of them sat on the hill. Not far off, they could see the tendril of smoke climbing into the sky from the chimney of thirty-three Blackwood Road. To the left of that, the forest, and to the right, the town. The sapphire sky blanketed all.

A bird sang in the distance. Celestia sighed. “Lovely,” she said.

“Yes,” said Star Swirl, “I think so, too. I’ve enjoyed spending time here over the past weeks. I have happy memories on this hill. Some of my oldest happy memories.”

Celestia cleared her throat. “I know it has been a very long time since we’ve seen one another,” she said, “but I am grateful that you will speak with me.”

“Don’t give it another thought, Princess.”

“I hope I’m not intruding.”

Star Swirl gave a bark of laughter. “My schedule is rather light these days,” he said.

Celestia watched as Star Swirl’s eyes wandered between Whither’s Hollow and the horizon.

“There were times,” Star Swirl said, his voice lowering, “when I would sleep in a different place every night, for months at a time. On a mattress, on a bed of moss, under a roof, under the stars… I suppose I’m not conditioned to routine. And yet, sleeping in the same bed every night, knowing I’ll have a bed to sleep in… is surprisingly agreeable.”

Celestia watched the chimney smoke as it vanished into the sky. “You’re a difficult pony to reach,” she said. “Otherwise, I would have come to you earlier. But I don’t think I was ever certain that you would settle down. A pony like you, with such mastery over space and magic… and time…”

Something flickered in Star Swirl’s eyes. “Ah. So you know about that.”

“Yes,” said Celestia. “Years ago, a copy of your Time Travel Spell found its way to Canterlot. We keep it in the Royal Canterlot Library, in the wing named for you. That wing has grown. It is more than a room of spell tomes now; authors and historians who’ve studied your life have made some respectable contributions. Stories of your deeds line many a shelf. And some tales are surprisingly ancient.”

Star Swirl grunted. “Clover,” he said.

“Yes,” said Celestia. “Clover.”

Star Swirl began tugging absentmindedly on his long white beard.

Celestia eyed him carefully. “It could have been no pony but you, Star Swirl," she said. "The histories never use your name, but the likeness is uncanny. The cloak, the hat, the beard, the bell.”

Star Swirl shifted his weight on the grass, and turned to face Celestia directly. “What is this to you?” he said.

“I’d like to know why.”

“Why I went back? Why I helped Clover?”

Celestia could all but see the shadows of memories swimming in Star Swirl’s mind, fantastical old creatures awakened behind the stony temple of the old Unicorn’s weathered face.

“Things did not go as I expected,” said Star Swirl. “Not at first. I’ve been to the past, yes, and to the future, once or twice. When I went back to the beginning of Equestria, I wanted only to observe. But, purely by chance, I ran into Clover. The histories exaggerate my influence on her, I assure you. We spoke only two or three times. I gave her what counsel she asked for. I answered her questions as best I could.”

“But it was you.”

“Of course it was.”

Celestia opened her mouth to speak, but Star Swirl raised a hoof. “I know, I know,” he said. “You are concerned, and you’re right to be. What right have I, to turn back the days? What right have I, to change the world as I see fit? I’ll assuage your fears, Princess – I’ve never changed a thing. Clover the Clever always had an old, bearded mentor. I remember reading about him in my youth. That did not change with my excursions to the past. The river ran on, heedless of the stones I tossed into the current. You may rest easy, knowing that the happenings of the past are as fixed and balanced as the stars. The future, however – the future is where the world is soft as clay.”

Celestia no longer heard the bird singing in the distance. It had flown off, perhaps to give the two of them their last chance to speak alone.

“I did have some fears,” said Celestia. “But I should have known that you would never put the land in danger.”

“Not intentionally, at any rate,” said Star Swirl. He laughed. “I hope I’ve put you at ease.”

“Yes. You have.”

Celestia watched Star Swirl return his gaze to the far-off view, wondering how she could bring up the true reason for her visit.

“How fares Princess Luna?” asked Star Swirl. “I expected to see her again one day, much more so than you. How is she?”

Celestia was quiet. She cast her eyes down into the grass.

“I do not know,” she said.

“I ask because I’ve heard no news of her. She still rules with you in Canterlot, I assume?”

“Star Swirl, Princess Luna has not ruled with me in Canterlot since the day I dismissed you from the palace.”

Star Swirl frowned. Celestia continued to stare at the grass.

“Where is she?” Star Swirl asked.

Celestia was unused to speaking of her sister. She could not meet Star Swirl’s eye; she stood and slowly paced about the slope of the hill.

“I do not know,” she said. “She is out there, somewhere. Every night I see proof of that, when the moon rises. But my sister has been gone from me for years and years.”

Celestia stopped. Memories of her own began to stir. A phantom smile played at the corners of her mouth.

“I remember when we were sisters,” she said. “Truly sisters. When we were young – very young – we lived in a castle, just the two of us. Out deep in the forest, away from the craze of Equestrian life. We had books there, and games, and secret tunnels and chambers. She didn’t hide from me then – we hid together, in that castle, at times when the world was too big and uncertain.”

Celestia willed the hot blur out of her eyes and continued. “Eventually we came to Canterlot. That would make us more accessible to the common folk, we thought. Maybe we could earn some respect from the ponies of the world. Perhaps even love. But as you know, only one of us truly did. And now, our old castle is abandoned. Dusty, dark… perhaps a ruin by now. But if my sister is anywhere… she is there. I don’t think there’s another place in Equestria where she would hide.”

Celestia felt Star Swirl’s eyes on the back of her head. “Have you gone in search of her?” asked Star Swirl.

Celestia turned back to him. “No,” she said, “and I don’t intend to. I am her sister, not her jailer, not her hunter. She made it clear to me… that she would return to Canterlot of her own will, or not at all.”

With a heavy sigh, Star Swirl pushed himself into a standing position. It was an act of obvious effort. His face, so weary just moments before, had turned hard and grim.

“Princess Celestia,” he said, “when I left the palace, all those years ago, after… your outburst… I moved on. If memory serves me correctly – which it often does – Princess Luna was always wiser than she was rash. If you go to her, perhaps you will find that she has moved on as well.”

“Then where is she?”

For one horrifying moment, Celestia was certain that she would begin crying, and then, she would not be able to stop. But she mastered herself, blinking furiously.

“Luna and I have shared long lives together,” she said, “and some scars run too deep. Deeper than you know. If she has moved on, why hasn’t she come back? Where is my sister? No, Star Swirl. I cannot go to her. I fear that the rift between us can only grow.”

“Don’t go to her because of how distanced you’ve become,” said Star Swirl. “Go to her because of how close you once were. Oh, Princess, if I had any family to speak of… I would not let them slip away from me without my stir. You resign yourself to a fate you can still escape. You once loved her. In fact, I believe you still do. If you go to her, you may well find that somewhere deep inside, she still loves you, too. We cannot change the past, true, and often, we cannot forget it. But we can learn.”

Suddenly very tired, Celestia sat back down on the grass. She laughed a quiet, sad laugh. “So I should go to her, and say what? We both know that I was wrong, in so many ways. Does it need to be said?”

Star Swirl sat beside her. “Yes,” he said, “it does. If only because something must be said. I can’t promise that you’ll win your sister back quickly – great wounds take time to heal. But, Princess… wounds can heal.”

Celestia laughed again, and looked at Star Swirl. “I never expected that I’d be taking this sort of counsel from you, Star Swirl. You’ve grown quite wise.”

“Well, that’s what they say of me.”

Celestia smiled. “The beard helps.”

“Yes, well, you can’t fault me for that. As one grows older, the importance of the occasional trim slowly diminishes.”

Celestia laughed, Star Swirl smiled. In the silence that followed, the princess pondered.

“You think I should go after her,” she said.

“Yes. It is long, long overdue.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Go tomorrow. No more waiting. You are decades late in this matter already.”

“And what if she spurns me?”

“Then you will try again the next day.”

Celestia sighed. “I notice you’ve abandoned the formal courtesies of addressing a princess.”

Star Swirl cocked an unkempt white eyebrow. “Princess, what do you want, my flattery or my counsel?”

Celestia turned her face to the sky, the sun a soothing warmth on her skin. “Your counsel,” she said, “gives me much to think about.”

A few clouds had crept into the otherwise clear sky, a string of cotton on the horizon.

“Will you do it, then?” asked Star Swirl.

“… Perhaps I will.”

Star Swirl nodded.

Before the two of them could lapse into silence, Celestia said, “I’m curious, Star Swirl. Why offer me your advice? We did not exactly part on agreeable terms.”

“Hmm.” A slight breeze blew by. The bell on Star Swirl’s hat shimmered with light and sound. “Maybe I’m just old and sentimental,” he said. “Or maybe I dislike turning away those who ask for my help. But likelier still is this: Princess Luna was my friend and teacher. If you two became sisters once more, perhaps she might become whole again.”

Star Swirl removed his hat from his head, and placed it on the grass. His mane was as course and white as his beard. “Princess,” he said, “I suspect that you have something else on your mind.”

Celestia stole herself. “Yes, I do.”

Star Swirl’s eyes were unfaltering. Celestia met them and began.

“Star Swirl,” she said. “You are one of the most powerful, intelligent unicorns in Equestria. You are the greatest student my sister and I have ever had, or are likely to ever have again. You have a passion for the common folk that is rare. But you grow old. We both know that you will not keep to this world for much longer.

“When I offered you Ascension all those years ago, I was hasty and impulsive. I should have given you time. Now you’ve had it. And it is clear to me that there is no pony in this land better suited for leadership than you. I make you an offer, once more. You care about helping others. Help me, by keeping order over the stars in the sky. Help me to rule Equestria, with benevolence, patience, justice, and wisdom. At my side. At Princess Luna’s, as well, if fortune favors us…

“You would have more time in this world. The alicorns live long, their bodies stand strong against sickness and deterioration. There is so much good left for you to do, Star Swirl. I don’t come to you asking you to bend your knee to me, or sit on a throne shorter than my own. I come to you asking for help.”

Star Swirl stared at Celestia. His snowy white hair flickered in the gentle passing wind. Celestia willed her heart beat steady and slow.

Star Swirl picked up his hat and placed it back on his head. His clouded eyes still had life enough in them to gleam peculiarly in the shade of his hat’s wide rim.

“All ponies,” he said, “must die. It is natural. Heroes die, villains die. Gardeners and adventurers die. Musicians die. And I will die. So will you, Princess Celestia. One day. Even alicorns cannot dwell on this plane forever. And that is good. That is the way the world is balanced. I do not seek to control anything. Not with a horn, not with a crown. I seek only balance.

“Princess Celestia, you have proven to the world that you can keep the peace of this land, alone. And with Princess Luna at your side again… well. Between the two of you, everything is possible. It’s a strengthening thought, isn’t it?

“I’m afraid I must decline your offer, Princess. I choose not to live forever, and I choose not to wear a crown, just as I chose ages ago in the throne room of your palace. I understand your need, and your concerns for the realm. But it is not my path to lord over anything. Not even the stars. No, the stars do well enough in their heavens without my interference. And so will the ponies of Equestria, once I’m gone.”

Celestia looked out at the sky again. The sun was beginning its descent. Evening was coming. She breathed deeply, and looked once more at Star Swirl.

“I see,” she said. “You’ve made your choice, then?”

“I made my choice a long, long time ago.”

“You were young.”

“I was never young.”

Celestia turned away. “No,” she said. “I suppose you weren’t.”

Then Celestia stood. “Well, then,” she said. “I suppose that’s the end of it.”

“Yes,” said Star Swirl. “That’s the end of it.”

They stared at each other for a moment longer. Then Celestia turned away and began her descent from the hill.

Halfway down the slope, she turned back. “I shall go to my sister tomorrow,” she said. “I don’t know what will happen… But I will go to her.”

“It’s best that you do,” said Star Swirl. “Even if there’s only the slimmest of chances that the two of you can join together again – even if she turns you away, denounces you – as long as there’s a chance…then it must be done.”

Celestia’s eyes lingered on the wizened old pony sitting on the hill.

“Even if you don’t join me in Canterlot,” Celestia said, “I can promise you that you’ll be remembered. All ponies must die, but not all stories. And yours is one that will live. Have you heard the tales they tell? Star Swirl the Bearded, they call you.”

“That is not all they call me. Star Swirl the Friendless. Star Swirl the Frozen-Hearted.”

“I am sorry for that.”

“Don’t be.” Star Swirl took his pipe back from out his cloak, and with a flicker of his horn it began to smoke again. “It’s my fault, really, for travelling alone so much. Though it certainly didn’t help when a princess proclaimed that I’d failed to master the magic of Friendship. In any case, if history will not abide me – if the scribes will not use their ink to preserve the unicorn I truly was – I do not mind. I did some good work.”

Celestia’s thoughts of leaving vanished.

“I never said this to you,” she said, “but I must, now that I have the chance. I’m sorry, Star Swirl. I was reckless and proud, and you deserved a better princess than I to oversee your lessons. I’d like to clear the air. Parting from you now… I must know. Might we part as friends? Please, Star Swirl. I must know if there’s any chance for a friendship between us.”

Star Swirl’s pipe hung languidly from the corner of his mouth. His great blue cloak rippled in the wind.

“While you’ve been hearing tales of me,” he said, “I’ve been hearing tales of you, Princess. They say that you are a kind, intelligent ruler. A graceful and just princess, who always puts her subjects before herself. I did not know if that was true; that did not sound like the Princess Celestia I met in my youth. But after speaking with you today… I believe it. I thank you for your apology.”

That was enough for Celestia. “You’re welcome, Star Swirl,” she said.

Celestia turned to leave.

She’d only gone a few steps before she heard Star Swirl’s voice call out behind her:

“You feel that I still haven’t finished.”

Celestia faced Star Swirl again.

“You feel that I’m still missing something,” Star Swirl said. “That there are elements of friendship that I still haven’t mastered, even now.”

Celestia was silent.

“Well,” said Star Swirl. “I understand. Then here’s the truth of it: I cannot accept your friendship. As you know, some scars run too deep.”

Star Swirl rose to his feet.

“I cannot accept your friendship, Princess Celestia,” he said. “But I forgive you.”

Star Swirl smiled. And underneath the wrinkles and the whiskers, Celestia thought, for just a moment, she saw Star Swirl as he truly was. Celestia smiled a small smile in return.

“Thank you,” she said. “Goodbye, Star Swirl.”

And so Princess Celestia left the green hill on the outskirts of Whither’s Hollow. She boarded her golden carriage and was off into the sky. As she passed over Whither’s Hollow, she looked below at the houses and streets displayed below her. Not far over the town line, she could just make out a figure in blue, sitting among the green hills, growing smaller with every instant, fading to nothing.

I’ll go to my sister tomorrow, she thought, the cold winds whistling around her. I want my sister back.

The gleaming carriage disappeared over the horizon. The sun began to set. And Princess Celestia was gone.

By the time Star Swirl returned to thirty-three Blackwood Road, the night had started to rise. Starlight began to dust the firmament, and the autumn fires of the treetops began to die as the sun fell.

Star Swirl opened the door of his cottage, with a hoof worn and cracked and well-traveled. The door opened with a rusty but not altogether unwelcoming creak. Some embers still burned brightly in the fireplace, painting the room with a warm glow.

Star Swirl slowly closed the door behind him, exhausted. He put his hat on the floor. He sat down at his desk. The Dragon’s Tongue burnt green. When he’d first come back to Whither’s Hollow, it had seemed only natural to Star Swirl that this magical little fire had never burnt out. That’s what the princess had once told him, after all. That it would never go out.

That evening, as he sat there in the thickness of dusk, Star Swirl felt his age as he had never felt it before. The weight of every passing minute hung heavy on his back. Every passing second.

There was a drawer in the desk. Star Swirl had not opened it since his return. But if what Emory had said was true – if the cottage had been largely untouched during his absence – then he knew what was inside.

Was there ever anyone I told? Star Swirl thought, dusty memories long pushed aside floating over him. Surely, I must have let slip my secret spell, at least to one pony…

Ah, yes. He had. To Lily.

On that day on the riverside. That day, that day had been made of clear sky and crystal water and color and light. Lily, he had said, I am working on a spell. I’ve been laboring on it for years now. It’s something to solve my Problem.

The spell had gone untouched for the great span of Star Swirl’s life, ever since he left Whither’s Hollow and marched into the far-off world. By that time, he had learned that his “Problem” was no problem at all.

Curious, Star Swirl brushed aside his beard and opened the drawer. From out of its depths, he lifted a book. A black-bound book, with a smattering of silver stars shining on the cover; the shape and spirit of the Celestial Tether.

Star Swirl placed the book on the desk before him and began leafing through the brittle, yellowed pages. As he read, his blurred, half-lidded eyes carefully picking out the markings, the distance of years began to fade. Warm memory filled him as he poured over pages and pages of equations, re-written incantations and astrological diagrams.

He remembered what he had written. He remembered writing it. He remembered the late nights, sitting alone in his cottage, when he had let thoughts of his friends fill him with wonder and joy and fascination. How complete they had seemed to Star Swirl. Emory, who found a path for his life that was quite unlike what his cutie mark might have suggested. Pan, the musician, given the mark of a flute, whose passion and talent for music was exceeded only by his passion and hunger for acceptance. And Lily, the gardener and the adventurer, who bore a blue rose. An exotic, unearthly flower. A flower that meant a love of beauty, and a love of the world.

Such an ache Star Swirl had felt for them. A love and a jealousy and an admiration that had clutched his heart in a warm and unwavering embrace. I wanted to learn how they did it, he thought. I wanted them to teach me.

Star Swirl reached the final pages, and read the culmination of his studies.

From one to another,
Another to one,
A Mark of one’s Destiny,
Singled out alone,
Fulfilled.

Star Swirl rose from his chair, weary of reading. Across the room, a full-length mirror stood, propped against the wall. Star Swirl walked to it.

He let his cloak fall to the floor in a ripple of blue. Star Swirl seldom saw himself in a mirror. He gazed at his white-streaked fur, fur that had once been rich and gray. He gazed at his horn, a horn as cracked and worn as his hooves. He gazed at his aged face.

And Star Swirl gazed at his empty flank.

Yes, thought Star Swirl, that’s what I wanted them to teach me. How to find a Purpose. How to live a life fulfilled. How they had gotten to be content. But what they taught me in the end was something else. Something else I desperately needed to learn.

What mattered a cutie mark, really? A cutie mark mattered not at all. This, Star Swirl knew. This, Star Swirl had learned.

I lived my life in search of my Purpose. And now that I stand at the brink of the end, I realize that I have failed, and that I do not care. Perhaps I was wise anyhow.

The embers of the fire grew dimmer and dimmer. Star Swirl thought of his bed. A dark, safe place. A soft place to rest.

Suddenly, Star Swirl felt an inexplicable urge to cast off his skin; to shed his old, heavy coat, and feel the relief of a rotted weight lifted. But he could not. He could only sleep.

As he walked to the bedroom, Star Swirl stopped by his desk. He stared at the quivering green flame perched atop the Dragon’s Tongue, the strange purple candle in the cold black holder. The light flickered, mindless and eternal.

Star Swirl hunched over his desk. He drew a deep breath, and then, with a puff of air, he blew out the droplet of fire. A black thread of smoke rose up, and dissolved into the air. The Dragon’s Tongue was dead.

As Star Swirl made the journey to his bed, each step seemed to be slower than the last. His limbs were gradually deserting him.

Finally Star Swirl took his last steps and clambered into bed – and oh, the relief of the pillow, the cozy warmth of the sheets as he drew them close to his skin. How easy it was, to close his eyes. How nice it was, to earn a night’s sleep.

In the comfortable darkness, Star Swirl dreamed his dreams with a smile.

In his dream, Star Swirl stood on a familiar plane. The ground was mist. The sky was a host of stars, all sizes and colors.

Not far away, Star Swirl recognized the shapes of ponies, silhouetted against the brilliance of the stars. The shape of a father. The shape of a mother. The shape of a friend. Shapes and shapes. All of them, waiting.

One pony strode forward, gliding serenely in the mist. The figure stepped into the light, and it was Lily. She smiled at him. Star Swirl saw her face and went to her.

A wind blew in Star Swirl’s mind, and his long white whiskers fell away like cobwebs. Suddenly he was young again. His limbs were strong. His fur was rich and gray. His eyes were as dark and clear as the ocean deep.

By the time he reached Lily, he, too, was smiling.

Lily beamed. Her pink fur cast a hypnotizing glow in the starlight. “Why are you smiling, Star Swirl?” she asked.

Eyes glistening, Star Swirl said, “Because I am happy. The day is ended, and I’ve had an adventure. I am happy.”

Star Swirl took Lily's hoof in his. He peered into her eyes. How he had missed those eyes.

The shapes of ponies in the distance began to fade. Lily turned and saw that they were leaving.

A twinkle in her eye, she turned back to Star Swirl. “Follow me,” she said. “Follow me.” She turned and started after the others, under the canopy of the stars.

Star Swirl followed.

Outside, the windows of thirty-three Blackwood Road were emptier than they’d ever been. No fires. No candles.

High in the sky, the clouds broke open, and the moon appeared, a beacon in the inky night. Full and radiant and silver-white.

With a brightness and a splendor never before seen, the moon shone down in mourning. The light passed over everything; the countryside, the treetops, the towns and villages… and the lonely thirty-three Blackwood Road… washing the world with tears of night light.

The air was still. The land was at peace. And Star Swirl the Bearded went to his rest.

Epilogue

On a distant night, warm and starlit, the ponies of Ponyville took to their streets in droves, to revel in the colors and thrills of a Nightmare Night.

Candy was strewn across the streets as young colts and fillies flew from door to door in all manner of costumes. Stalls of games and competitions peppered the sidewalks, and gales of laughter rose up all around. Masks, everywhere, and not a single frown to be found.

And silently surveying it all from the wooded edge of Ponyville stood Princess Luna.

From Luna’s eyes, Ponyville seemed a mass of cool shadows, like great trees, silhouetted against the deep lavender sky. The town was lit with bright decorations, colorful strings of lights and lanterns, swimming in the night like congregations of fireflies, making merry with each other in the dark of the woods.

Grinning and contented, her mane floating on the breeze like a weightless veil, Luna watched the ponies at play. A pirate, a chicken, a scarecrow, nameless under their disguises.

Luna’s eyes flitted up to the pale full moon, hanging ghostly and smiling over the celebrating land. Suddenly, Luna was struck by a quiet wonder.

For this moment – for this one brief moment of their lives – they live in the moonlight, she thought. I play my part for the benefit of all Equestria.

Luna sighed and closed her eyes, the wind a cool comfort on her face.

She was glad she had come. It was good to become familiar with the land again, and the ponies of the land, after all the wasted years. Her behavior had needed some adjustments, of course, but that being done, Luna found Nightmare Night to be a marvelous time. But most of all, Luna was glad to have spent some time with Princess Celestia’s new student, Twilight Sparkle.

When Luna first set eyes on Twilight Sparkle, it had taken her a moment to identify the costume. And when she did, Luna felt something twist inside her, very deep in her core. The countless jingling sleigh-bells. The oversized stars and moons, cartoonishly plastered all over the hat and cloak – an image distorted by the unforgiving tide of years.

But Luna had tried her best to be kind. “Star Swirl the Bearded,” she had said. “Commendable costume. You… even got the bells right.”

Now, Princess Luna looked at Twilight from afar, watching her laugh with her friends, the bells adorning her hat and cloak jingling mindlessly. Luna saw how happy they all seemed. Blissful, careless happiness.

I wonder, Luna thought. I wonder how it might have been… if he’d known such times of carelessness. Or if the bitterness of life had waited, just a little longer, until he was grown and ready. I wonder…

Rapt, Luna hardly noticed Twilight’s approach until she was only a few hoof steps away.

“How’s it going, Princess Luna?” Twilight asked, waking Luna from her old dreams.

Luna smiled at Twilight. “I’m faring well, Twilight. But I’m afraid that the night grows late. Soon I must make my return to Canterlot.”

“Oh, please, stay just a little bit longer! You’ve been so much fun, and every pony has really taken a liking to you!”

“And I am pleased that they have,” said Luna. “But all the same, I must be off. Farewell, Twilight Sparkle. We shall meet again.”

Luna began walking out into the shadowed trees, the lights of Ponyville hovering in the night behind her.

“Wait – Princess Luna?”

The princess stopped and turned. “Yes, Twilight Sparkle?”

Twilight’s eyes were bright with the burning of a question. She spoke quickly. “I was just wondering,” she said, “about Star Swirl the Bearded. I’ve read nearly all of his work – as much as I can get my hooves on, at any rate – and based on the accounts I’ve read… you and Star Swirl the Bearded knew each other once.” Abruptly, Twilight dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry, I know it was a long time ago, and I'm not even sure if history books that old have much truth in them.…”

Luna was gentle. “Yes, Twilight Sparkle. I knew him.”

Twilight looked back up, the question burning again. “You did!” she cried, breathless. “Wow – the very thought that you knew Star Swirl the Bearded! Princess Luna, I have to ask. What was he like?”

Princess Luna stared at Twilight. “What was he like?” she echoed.

That’s right, thought Luna, I knew him. I was one of the only ones to know him. One of the first. And now, one of the last. He’ll pass from living memory, soon enough. Only my sister and I are left, to bear him witness. Yes, I knew him. At least… I knew him as well as I could. As any pony could.

Twilight stood waiting, eyes wide. Princess Luna blinked, and smiled. Her voice was low and soothing, and somehow far away, softened in a mist.

“I shall tell you about Star Swirl, Twilight Sparkle,” said Luna. “He was gifted in the ways of magic. He was wise in a way that does not come from a book. And he was my friend. Perhaps I was his, as well…”

Luna realized that she was sad. How strange. There was no reason to be sad.

The sounds of Nightmare Night drew Luna’s attention back to Ponyville. Music played, and dancing hooves clattered in the street. Luna faced the town. She watched. She listened.

“Your friends will be waiting for you, Twilight Sparkle,” said Princess Luna. “Go to your friends. We must never forget our friends.”

With a somber, knowing smile and a mysterious gleam in her eye, Princess Luna turned and vanished into the shadows. Twilight Sparkle stood for a moment, staring into space after the princess. Finally she turned, and made the walk back to Ponyville, where joy and peace and balance filled the night.

And high above it all, suspended in space, a new light shone in the Celestial Tether. A white light, pure and bright and somehow satisfied, peering down from the deep beyond, down at the rivers and valleys and villages of Equestria.

Eventually, the world went to sleep. The stars held vigil, each one content, and each one certain of its place in the sky.

And for the briefest and most perfect of moments, balance reigned.

The End

Author's Note

A special thanks to Cerulean Voice, whose generous support and enthusiasm for this story resulted in a Las Pegasus Tribune feature and a Seattle's Angels Review.

And an enormous thank you to everyone out there who added this story to their favorites. Thanks, you guys - I'll always be grateful for your interest. You've made my time on this site an adventure I can be proud of.

It's been just short of a year since I posted the first chapter of The Tutelage of Star Swirl. I joined this site on the 28th of August, 2013, exclusively to write this story. And now, I get to type the words "The End." I admit, there were moments when I was convinced that those two words would never make it into my keyboard. But now, I finally caught up with them, and that's more than enough to make me happy.

Thanks for the read, my friends. See you around -

Moose Mage