Dreams Recalled

A View Of Somn

By Spellbound the Storyteller

I. The Flight North

It is one of my era’s greatest tragedies that so few ponies know why the northernmost tip of Equestria is called Astrony’s Edge. Some of the smartest ponies I know have spotted it on a map and spluttered in confusion at the sight of those unfamiliar words. Where in the world is Astrony? There is no such place—is there, Spellbound? Even those who know that Astrony was the historic nation of the unicorns rarely stop to consider why the map really ought not to read Equestria’s Edge. Those narrow-minded unicorns, they grumble. Astrony is gone. There is nothing there. Speaking as an earth pony raised in the Southlands, I once held this view, as do most of my kin.

This is partly due to a deficiency in education. Political forces keep the controversial details of day-to-day life in Astrony out of the public school textbooks, especially in regions with high unicorn populations, including Canterlot itself. The highborn learn of Astrony in their expensive schools, and when they become the new lawmakers and aristocrats, they choose to censor it as much as they can. They have done so for centuries. As Astrony has faded from memory, so their efforts increase to make it fade from history.

Of course, though the scars of injustice are always hard to erase from the cultural consciousness, two thousand years is a very long time. Even the narrative of our nation’s founding is warped by our modern ignorance. We must see that it is a naïve tale, yet we believe that it is more or less truth, with perhaps some minor embellishments. We make it into an annual play for schoolfoals—and yes, perhaps in our hearts we know that Princess Platinum’s true title was Empress Platinum V and that she was exiled from Equestria after unification, but it makes no difference if we still think of her as the vain but good-hearted ruler of the unicorns. We accept that there were earth ponies enslaved, and a place in the frozen north called the White Tower where some sort of cruelty was committed by a few arrogant unicorns—it was before harmony, after all—but we also hold fast to this silly notion that the pegasi and earth ponies mostly stuck to their own territories in Caeland and the Free Southlands. In other words, we believe that the races of ponykind lived separately until the Windigo War forced us into unification.

Nothing could be further from the truth. Perhaps Equestria was the first (and only) state to be founded on a basis of a shared pony heritage, but we have never ceased contact. The idea that there were three cleanly divided pre-Equestrian states that kept to their own is an absurdity, but it is even more troubling given what we know about those states in the years leading up to the unification. In fact, the extent of Astrony’s power was such that it would be more accurate to call it the first unified state of ponydom. I have traveled to Astrony’s Edge, and have seen the truth of its history there.

This brings us back to the original question: why Astrony’s Edge?

The official answer is easy to find. On numerous occasions in Equestria’s recent history, especially in the past century, political factions, reformist and royalist alike, have petitioned the government over the name, requesting it be changed to Equestria’s Edge or struck from official maps altogether, given that it is of no significance to anypony of the modern era. In every case, either Princess Celestia or Princess Luna has moved to veto a name change every time it has been presented before the Court. Those who ask why receive the same response.

The name will stay. Equestria must not forget.

Fly north from Canterlot as a pegasus might, and you will see the gentle waves of green hills and neatly organised fields give way to dreamy moorland. The green darkens to become tough and swampy, and the shrubs are interrupted by bare stone and violet heather, whose lush shades shift with the wind. Over the shores of the great lakes and northern forests, the climate drops and to come here in winter is to see a world frozen over, all plants reduced to lichen and moss clinging to craggy rock. Progress further and soon, the gloomy mists of the Crystal Mountains will creep into view, pluming from the valleys. To the west, you might see the gleaming towers of the Crystal Empire, the last major evidence of civilisation. The only settlements further north are small villages that appear only on regional maps.

The inhabitants of these villages, strangely, are all unicorns, and mostly white, blue or other pale colours—an anomaly in modern Equestria. They are staunchly independent and generally govern themselves. You might notice that despite their distance from much of Equestria, they are well connected by broad, clean roads. A long-defunct train track also runs through much of this region, ending in a great tunnel that burrows through the mountains, all the way to Astrony’s Edge.

If you were to visit any of the villages here as a pegasus, you would be shown great hospitality, but announce any intention to stay indefinitely and the locals will become testy. A new unicorn, on the other hoof, would be welcomed as an old friend and encouraged in their desire to relocate. They are the remnants of something older than themselves. The north is the origin of unicorns in prehistory—their horns were forged in the ice and here their coats and manes grow thick and luxuriant. Yet there are no cities here anymore, and Princess Celestia has not sent up her ambassadors in all of Equestria’s history. Nonetheless, the unicorns of the northern country have been represented in the Royal Court and the House of Peers for four hundred years of its existence, after some favourable marriages bought them real estate in the halls of power. If you are at all interested in politics, you likely know that their presence remains controversial in the eyes of some.

So fly on, and see the Crystal Mountains, feathered with snow in the perpetual winter of the Arctic skies. They stretch on uninterrupted for miles—perhaps your gaze will be drawn to the dark shape of a mountain troll skinning a fox at the entrance to his cave, or a lonely windigo curling around the peaks. In some deep valleys the hardiest of unicorn tribes still persist. They welcome no pegasus outsider. Fly on.

The mountains begin to recede smoothly and the Arctic Ocean becomes visible. You are nearly at the world’s end.

Now look—there they are! In these mists the twin spires could be mistaken for more mountains by an unwary observer, but this is the very place you have been searching for. The mountains peter out into snowy cliffs that extend to the east and west on either side; the whiteness blanketing the ground would be total but for the rocky platform jutting out, curiously cleared of all snow. The train tunnel through the Crystal Mountains ends here—at the time of its construction, it was easily the single most impressive feat of pony engineering.

The towers stand beyond even the cliff, suspended above the ocean by an ancient magic. Two towers—one solemn burgundy, the other purest white. Between those towers lies a few miles of land, a great expanse of rock, metal, and brick, all hanging in the air and shielded by a golden dome. This unnatural structure is connected to the cliff by a sturdy metal bridge. The drop below is frightening and cavernous, and you may question the magic that keeps it floating. Do not fear. It will remain above the water for centuries yet.

Take a moment to absorb the history of this place. You are looking at Somn, the capital of the Empire of Astrony, which once controlled almost all the land we now call Equestria. Our ancestors called it by many names—the Northern Capital, the City on the Edge, the Dreaming City. Today, it is the city of silence. You may notice as you approach that the bridge has two lanes. One leads to the lower levels of the city, the interior of the thick marble base upon which the city is supported. It is odd and windowless, the mottled surface shimmering evasively in the Arctic sun. The stone is whiter than it once was; it’s one of the few parts of Somn affected by the harsh environment. The other bridge leads into the city proper, protected from the elements by high stone walls, and, of course, the dome. Its interior layer is a metal shell, the exterior tiles of gilded aluminium. Some of these tiles are faded and dislodged, but the horn of your unicorn guide (if you are lucky enough to find such a guide) will sense enough residual magic in the dome alone to light up all of Manehattan—and he will tell you so proudly. The shell’s surface is unbroken save for the two holes from which the towers emerge.

Through the entryway at the bridge, you can just about see the multicoloured buildings of the city, arranged in orderly rows. Beyond them, a looming wall cuts Somn in two, though the patterns on its dark surface are invisible from here. To your left and right, the White Tower and the Bell Tower stand parallel, reaching up for the heavens. You might notice how very deliberate the design of the place is—the White Tower so polished that it could blind you, the Bell Tower lined with deep and intricate grooves up and down its murky trunk. They stand opposite one another, their shadows drifting vaguely across the dome, one after another, day after day.

The towers have been referred to poetically as the guardians of Somn. They have nothing to guard now but secrets.

The cliff that precedes the floating portion of the city is also a part of Somn—the site of the Old City, the pre-Astronian town that existed long before the unicorns ever thought to invade the Southlands. It is a village compared to the colossal floating portion of Somn. Here, the limestone buildings are white as porcelain but tough as steel, designed with the rounded roofs and thin spiral pillars often associated with unicorn architecture from the classical period. Like much of Somn, its layout is exceptionally neat and based on a grid system. Before Astrony broke off from its brief subjugation under the Crystal Empire in 1585 B.H., the Old City was known as Lapidan, a name associated with the most ancient of pony civilisations. Notably, the old town hall remains a muscular stone structure dating back to those days; it’s not as refined as much of the architecture, but no less striking. It was used as a museum at the peak of Astrony’s power, reminding the residents of how far they had come since it was built.

This hall stands in the centre of the Old City before a great plaza of dark basalt flagstones. In the middle of the plaza there is a ruined fountain, cracks running deep in its dry foundation. On a raised platform studded with spouts, you can see a marble statue of a short-maned unicorn in a heroic pose, rearing up. A quick inspection of the statue will reveal the opulence of the society that built her in the lavish gemstone decorations and the almost obsessive attention to details in her coat, her mane—and her cutie mark, a blue flame represented by sapphires of a regal, delicate colour. Her expression of cool determination is well preserved, and the diamonds add an edge to her eyes. As you gaze into them, do not be surprised if you feel a nameless fear awaken in your gut. No thief would steal these gems. No thief would dare. Translated from Astronian (or Old Equestrian, if you prefer), the inscription on the stone base of the statue reads:

GEMMA I

FIRST EMPRESS OF THE STARS

There is another noteworthy inscription at the entrance to the Old City. It is written on a carved upright slab—smooth, grey and slightly translucent. Like everything else in this place, the stonework appears new, and the words maintain their legibility, enchanted, so that time would forever hold them in place. Unless you are a scholar of Astrony, you are unlikely to understand those words, but they read:

SOMN

“Here, at the edge of the world

The thread of destiny is our guide

Unwinding in the boundless skies

As we walk

Our starlit path.”

Land at this inscription. It is the traditional starting point for those curious about this ancient city. Take off your coat, and don’t worry about the cold; the spells that kept Somn in a warm cocoon are as strong as those that keep it in the air. Take in the view. Take in the emptiness. Think to yourself the words that now spring unbidden to your mind:

Something terrible happened here.