I. Cell 20
Year 10 B.H. (Before Harmony)
Behind the glass there was an earth pony filly half-awake and in chains. She breathed hard and heavy, her bulged abdomen hairless and wet like a toad. On her scalp there were nicks from the razor that had shaved her mane, and the amber of her decayed teeth was quite visible through her gaping mouth. The lights were harsh and her body glistened. Block writing on the other side of the glass read “Cell 10.” Nearby stood two unicorn observers, who may as well have been invisible to her—instinct had forced her eyes shut. They talked.
“…would entirely remove the need to remove the marks during adolescence.” The speaker was a turquoise mare with a fluffy white mane, dressed elegantly in a wine red cape. In contrast, her companion, a white stallion with a proud bearing, had on an imperial scarlet coat stiffened with gaudy jewels. Around his neck he wore a gold choker and several pendants bearing symbols. He watched the pony behind the glass with an anxious fascination.
“What’s her name?”
“Before she was selected for testing,” said the mare, “it was Juniper. She had a congenital defect that made her lame in one of her legs. If we hadn’t taken her, she might’ve been killed.”
The earth pony wriggled slightly, kicking her hind legs. There was an agonized groan and the observing stallion wrinkled his nose at the discharge that gushed out. The turquoise unicorn tapped her hoof pointedly. From behind her, a swamp-colored earth pony dashed forward to unlock the cell door and clean up the mess.
“Are you sure he should know about this?” asked the white stallion. “What with the insurrectionists?”
The mare released a tight, barking laugh as if she had been storing it up all day. “I’ve had Calico since I was a filly. He can be trusted. Isn’t that right, Calico?”
“It sure is, Ms. Mercury,” said Calico, grinning as he emerged from the cell. “I got no time for the rebels, Your Majesty.”
“That’s very reassuring,” mumbled the stallion. Turning back to Mercury, he said, “At any rate, if I’m impressed with your progress on my sister’s little project, I’ll speak to some traders and gauge their interest in this Juniper.”
Mercury bowed her head and said that Majesty was very kind and she would deeply appreciate it. Calico trotted behind the two unicorns as they passed through an empty holding cell to access the stairs. Juniper let out a wretched moan as they left but it was made impotent by the soundproof walls.
Mercury said, “It’s just this way, Prince Glimmer.”
The main staircase spiraled in both directions and neither floor nor ceiling was visible. Both the steps and the rounded wall to which they were affixed were a mottled crystalline white. The deceptive fragility of the structure was somewhat disrupted by the doors. Some were wooden and some were steel and they were evenly spaced all up the staircase.
The ponies went up until they reached a metal door. It said on it, “Cells 11-20.” Mercury pulled a key from her saddlebag and entered.
The room was clean and well lit, identical to the chamber that housed Juniper, with two doors leading to the other cells. There was nothing behind the glass, which was marked with the number 11. A small group of unicorns stood before Mercury and the prince, and she introduced them as her team. After the exchange of pleasantries was over, Mercury explained that what she had to show the Prince was in Cell 20 and asked if he had any questions.
“Yes,” said the prince. “I understand that you have called this creature the Alicorn, correct? What is that?”
“Until recently, the Alicorn was a hypothesis. If you want a unicorn capable of raising the sun on her own, the test subject’s horn would need to be made into a far stronger magical conduit. We first experimented with increasing the horn size of unicorn volunteers and other such stupidity. It did little to increase their magical capability. After several failed efforts, the team and I decided to tackle the problem from a different perspective: what sort of unicorn would be capable of raising the sun on her own? I hypothesized that such a dramatic increase in magical potential would likely make her a new type of pony altogether. Theoretically, it should resemble a winged unicorn. I coined the word ‘Alicorn’ to describe such a creature.
“Of course, my calculations indicated that we simply didn’t have the magical energy necessary to create an Alicorn even if all the unicorns in Somn pulled together. Once again, I had to think outside the box. Long story short, I began to experiment with dimensional spells and I discovered something incredible. If I suggested that a true magical augmentation spell was possible, what would you say?”
“Well, I’d call you crazy, I suppose.” A frown came over the prince’s delicate features. “Magical augmentation beyond perhaps a simple party trick is firmly in the realm of fantasy. I believe one of Maple’s old fables revolved about the folly of such an endeavor. Do you intend to prove me otherwise?”
“We have been looking in all the wrong places, Your Majesty,” said Mercury. “With a few adjustments to a teleportation spell, I discovered that I could do this…”
Mercury raised her horn and cast a spell that the prince had never seen before. Her method was counter-intuitive, like she was trying to cripple herself, and Prince Glimmer half-expected it to backfire, but instead a strange purple glow appeared in Mercury’s eyes. He could have sworn that her body flickered for a moment as well, as if she were about to teleport. Then, she vanished.
Prince Glimmer yelped and drew himself up with a fussy cough. “H-hello? Mercury Drop? What are you doing?”
For a glad moment he thought she had gone forever and he wouldn’t have to think about her ever again, but then Mercury’s voice came disembodied in reply, a high sound ringing out from all directions. “I am here in the room with you, Your Majesty. And—I can see—I can see…”
“What can you see?” asked the prince hastily.
“Oh, I can see everything. Everything. All the magic in the world, Your Majesty. I see it all.”
The prince swallowed uncomfortably. He rather wished that his older sister could’ve dealt with this matter, but the summit in Vanhoover naturally took precedence. As great of an asset as Mercury Drop was to the university, he still found her intensity frightening. By contrast, Princess Platinum was an old friend of hers from school, and she fueled the frightening ambition that ached deep in Mercury’s murky grey eyes.
In truth there was no small amount of envy that the Prince felt for Mercury. She wasn’t even a peer and yet commanded more respect in the Imperial Court than he did. A year ago, he had made the mistake of trying to court the daughter of a duke, named Rhea Celeste. When Rhea's brother was later arrested and purged for his connections with dissident activity, he suffered the consequences for his unfavorable relationship. He severed ties with her, but it was already too late and he was packed off for six months to work as a special envoy to Phoenicker—a major region of Caeland, to be sure, but it was no duty befitting a prince. As if the humiliation wasn’t enough, he returned to Somn to find his sister had largely superseded him in the political arena. His friends were few, and he spent much of his time doing busywork for Platinum.
Sucking in a sharp breath, the Prince affected a mild tone. “Could you—could you perhaps explain more clearly what you mean?”
Mercury reappeared with a crack and turned back to the prince with a broad smile. “Think of the world in two parts—here we are in the physical world, and behind it is the world of magic. One cannot exist without the other. The gap between the world, I coin—I flatter myself—the Veil. Normally, we use our horns as a conduit to access that other world, but it takes a great deal of energy just to access that magic, without factoring in the effort of actually using it. This spell allows me to skip that stage, to go beyond the Veil, so that the effort my horn expends on casting spells is reduced dramatically. I can reach all of that magic now—directly! Do you understand?”
“I think so,” said Prince Glimmer, pursing his lips in thought. Gauging from Mercury's excitement, he decided it would be a bad idea to encourage her too much. She was quite intolerable like this.
“Let me demonstrate with a simple engorgement charm.” Mercury left the Prince’s side and trotted over to a desk, atop which were two quill pens. “If I were to cast the weakest engorgement spell I know, it should increase the size of that pen by a factor of about 1.5.”
The prince nodded, and Mercury’s horn glowed. True to her word, a grey glow surrounded the pen and its size increased by about half of its original proportions. A fairly unremarkable spell that any unicorn filly could cast.
“Now, observe what happens if I use my new spell first.” Mercury snickered and raised her horn. Prince Glimmer turned back to the desk, chewing his lip.
Once again, Mercury’s eyes changed their coloration, like she was wearing glass lenses, and she vanished. Prince Glimmer looked from side to side nervously. The remaining quill pen then gave out a twinkling lambency that quickly escalated into a fiercely intense glow; the prince had to squint as the shape loomed up before him. When the light faded, the pen was grossly oversized, pressed up between the walls of the room, the shaft of the feather twisted and the quill bent. The sight was farcical; Prince Glimmer would have laughed were he not so shocked. The other members of the research team broke out in practiced applause. Mercury reappeared, giving the Prince another start, and called for Moonstone, her research assistant. Moonstone quickly emerged from the group of scientists and cast a spell to return the pen to its proper size, while smug Mercury returned to the prince, who still stood dazed on the other side of the room.
“Could a unicorn raise the sun by herself with this kind of magic?” he asked.
Mercury smirked. “Oh, she could do more than that! This breaks all the limits of magic as it is presently understood. It’s a precise technique, and a poor practitioner might hurt herself trying to cast it, but with this kind of power, I realized that we could do more than simply raise the sun. It can’t be used for sustained periods without exhausting the caster, but with enough unicorn collaborating, we could do anything. We could make new life. We could make the Alicorn. Come along and I’ll show you.”
“N-new life?” spluttered the prince, too shocked to restrain himself. “That’s worthy of Star Swirl himself. Beyond him, in fact!”
“I’m glad you agree.” Mercury was already trotting towards the door to the other cells. “Follow me and I’ll show you what my team and I managed to create.” She turned, and briefly, the hem of her cape rode up enough to display her cutie mark: the classic illusion of the impossible triangle, colored the same thundercloud grey as her eyes.
Prince Glimmer followed Mercury Drop with no small degree of apprehension, but now at least his interest was truly piqued. This, he thought, was something quite big.
Cell 20 was directly accessible from Cell 11 due to the circular organization of the floor. Mercury Drop was gazing proudly into the glass as Prince Glimmer entered the room, and she invited him to gaze upon this creature she had made—a being crafted of pure magic with the potential to be mightier than any unicorn in all of Astrony.
The first thing the prince noticed was that it was huge. Though it was currently lying on the floor of the cell, it likely stood head and shoulders above Mercury or himself. Despite this, it was covered in an off-white peach fuzz coating, like a tiny foal, and its wings lay spread out and bedraggled. The long, thin legs extended across the floor, the light pinkish flesh and blue veins still visible beneath its down. It had a pronounced, masculine jaw structure—kingly features, despite its bleary-eyed expression. Meanwhile, its horn was more impressive in length and girth than any unicorn horn Prince Glimmer had ever seen.
“You must forgive her appearance,” said Mercury. “She’s big, but she’s really just a newborn foal in every other regard. She’s developing abnormally fast, though.”
“A w-winged unicorn,” murmured Prince Glimmer. “To think I would live to see…to see…”
“Yes. The stuff of legend,” finished Mercury. “Is she not beautiful?”
The Alicorn moved her head at the noise, moaning softly. The prince blinked furiously, not quite believing what he was seeing. This impossible animal was here, breathing the same air as him, brought fully-grown into existence by the mare that stood sat his side. His gaze traced the Alicorn’s muscular flank to arrive at her cutie mark, which was—
“The sun,” he said. “Her cutie mark is the sun.”
“Appropriate, I think, given the circumstances of her birth.” Mercury smiled with an almost maternal kindness at the creature.
Abruptly, the prince came to his senses. “I must get back to the Palace. I must write a letter to my sister and inform her of all this immediately. This is—this is quite remarkable, Mercury. You have outdone yourself. For my part, I feel that this has quite exceeded all expectations I had for this unit.”
Mercury bowed in gratitude as the prince made to leave. As he opened the door, a question sprung to his mind, and he inclined his head back toward Mercury to ask:
“Does she have a name?”
Mercury nodded. “I thought that she ought to have a name befitting our great nation—something that represented our Starlit Path.” She smiled again, softly. “Her name is Celestia.”
II. She hated the cold season
II. She hated the cold season
Harmony 2000
If there can be said to be any common ground between modern and pre-Equestrian faith, it may be the mythology of the Crystal Mountains. The mystique of the region is such that neither Equestria nor the former states of ponydom have ever sought to conquer the Crystal Empire—at least, not militarily. Unicorn tradition holds that ponies first appeared in the northern climes as Crystal ponies and as they descended southwards lost their lush, glittering coats and became thinner, darker and less civilised. Of course, this myth died with the formation of Equestria; however, similar beliefs concerning Princess Celestia and Princess Luna have remained extant. As all educated ponies know, there is in some regions a strongly held conviction that both Alicorns were born in the Crystal Mountains, born from a sparkling spring under a perfect blue sky on the last day of ponykind's most unforgiving winter. Their purpose: to restore and maintain a new order amidst the devastation of the Windigo War.
These notions have been long since abandoned by the Canterlot aristocrats and the city-dwelling champions of free enterprise but are still held to be true in rural areas. Further north, the myths become more obscure. Ponies raised on the borders of the Crystal Empire ascribe no such positive intent to their Princesses. They have been diplomatically described as pre-Equustrian star-worshippers and less diplomatically as anti-Equestrians, but the most appropriate term is probably neo-Astronians. They are followers of the Astral Path, once the state religion of the unicorn empire. The most singular of their beliefs is that the Princesses were sent by God as punishment for the sins of ponykind, and when their subjects once again become too bold, too rich, too haughty, a great evil would be set upon Equestria far worse than the windigos to return it to a suitable state of submission. One day, two thousand years after Princess Celestia first appeared, that evil came to a village called Sapphire Ridge—or at least something came that very closely resembled the worst of a northern unicorn's apocalyptic visions.
Whatever it was that came to Sapphire Ridge came with the cold. The reddish shrubs of the tundra had frosted over and the fog had descended upon the dales of the Crystal Mountains to vanish away the most northerly of villages and drape its veil across the whole base of the range. Even from the distant moorland a good eye could see that the mountains were suspended on winter’s cloud. Sapphire Ridge lay on the geographical crossroad between those ice-scorched plains, the mountains, and the pine forests choked by snow. It previously held the distinction of being the Equestrian town closest to the Crystal Empire. Now its only distinction was that it had been the site of seemingly the largest mass-murder in Equestria for centuries.
Scouts brought the survivors of the attack to the police headquarters in Crystal City for questioning. Information was scarce—the scouts said that it was like nothing they had seen before. It was as though the citizens of Sapphire Ridge had one day decided to slit their own throats. Corpses lay on the street and in the square, in beds still covered by their sheets, and in kitchens with their muzzles pushed into their breakfast, blood congealing in the oats. Their possessions were untouched. There was no ransacking, no wreckage—no evidence that any attack had occurred besides the bodies. Princess Cadance contacted Canterlot as soon as the full extent of the damage was assessed, stressing that Equestria and the Crystal Empire ought to pool their resources and launch a joint-investigation owing to the scale of the attack and its proximity to the Empire’s territory.
Out of Sapphire Ridge’s tiny population of 234, three survived: a young unicorn couple and their filly. They had been hiding in a concealed bunker under their house, apparently built by the paranoid father in case of emergency. His wife had regarded it with a great deal of skepticism, supposing it to be a waste of time and money. She almost allowed herself a bitter laugh when she realised the irony.
They had never even visited a highly populated place before. As they were driven down the street in a protected carriage, the mare wondered aloud if any other unicorns were here while the filly clung tearfully to her side. The father only stared wordlessly at the streets drifting by. The scout who had discovered them remained in their car but there was nothing he could say.
The carriage arrived at HQ in the early afternoon and the family was quietly escorted inside. Cadance received word from Celestia shortly thereafter and authorised an investigation. Thankfully, the press had not been alerted. It was now a matter of ascertaining what had attacked Sapphire Ridge before it struck again. The Empire had never dealt with a mass killing since its reappearance, and there was some contention over which department ought to handle the investigation. Ultimately, good intentions won out over politics, and the case was placed in the hands of the Imperial Police, responsible for large-scale crimes that were relevant to the whole of the Crystal Empire.
The father had remained inside during the killing and hadn’t seen the invaders, while mother and foal were at the local shop. After they were given some time to themselves, the mare was led to a well-lighted and sparsely furnished questioning chamber. Across a table stood a grey stallion. From the top, he began with fine, almost mare-like features but ended more satisfyingly with thick, sculpted legs.
“Hello, madam,” he said. His voice was deep but delicately accented. “My name is Sharp Lens. I’m a detective here in Crystal City.”
“I’m Limestone Glow.”
Lens nodded. “My pleasure, Mrs. Glow. I just have a few questions about the attack you witnessed.” He paused and levelled his finest sympathetic gaze upon her. “Now, I understand that you’ve been through quite an ordeal. Believe me, madam, the last thing we wish to do is cause you further unhappiness, so please don’t hesitate to ask for a break if you feel under pressure.”
“…Yes.” The mare absently shook out her mane, which was cyan, long, and straight. “It’s okay. I’ll answer.”
“Very well. As you wish,” said Lens, turning to his notes. “What did you and your daughter see when you were at the market?”
“I—thought it was…” Limestone Glow trailed off and looked down at the table. “…maybe a storm. From the west or something. Sometimes the storms come over the mountains and get all the way to us in Sapphire. There was a sound like thunder before it came.”
“But it wasn’t a storm?”
“No.” Limestone traced circles on the floor and closed her eyes. “It looked like a cloud coming down from the sky, but there was some monster in it. Magical, like a unicorn, but bigger. It made the sky go dark above it, and these—things came out of it.”
“Things? Ponies?”
Limestone frowned. “Like ponies, but not normal ponies. Earthies—I mean, earth ponies…”
Lens raised an eyebrow.
Limestone continued, “They were like earth ponies, but they—I’m getting ahead of myself, though. First, there was the mist—the mist they brought down. My daughter Quartz and I were walking through the square and then suddenly we couldn’t see anything through this thick mist. Something inside the fog made a terrible sound, like I said. At first I thought it was thunder in the distance, but when I heard it up close it was like a buzzing. It was deep and almost sounded musical—like a funeral drone. Have you ever been to a traditional unicorn funeral?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“They bring out these big horns and play this low drone repeated over and over. It’s very mournful. I think it’s meant to represent the wheel of life and death. This sounded a little like that, but louder. I could barely hear myself speak.
“Somepony screamed in the fog. I nudged Quartz and we hurried to get home. We heard more screaming. I didn’t pay attention because I just wanted to protect my daughter. There were strange shapes in the fog and I ran to get away from them. But it was so difficult to see.
“I only saw one of those things for a moment. It leapt in front of me and I backed up against the fountain. The creature was like an insect. It looked like an earth pony, but it had a hard brown skin. Its eyes bulged and its mouth was twisted up—I didn’t see it long enough to get a clear picture. It made a shrieking call and I stood still so it wouldn’t notice me.
“I wasn’t really thinking anymore. I mean—I don’t remember much except the sounds of the droning and the screaming together and that I saw our local greengrocer lying on the ground. I thought we were going to die. But the creature moved away and we came to our house safely. When we got the bunker, we heard one of those creatures come into the house and search around above, but they never found us.”
Sharp Lens raised a fore hoof to his brow. He was by no means a novice when it came to crimes of scale—he made his name in the department dealing with the recent outbreaks of gang violence in downtown Crystal City—but this was entirely new to him. Then again, he and all his fellow citizens had been vanished away to the void for a thousand years. Could it be that a whole new type of pony had appeared in the mountains during their absence?
Limestone shifted forward and spoke again. “I don’t know if this makes any sense, but I think I might know what those things were.”
“What?”
“Well”—Limestone swallowed uneasily—“my grandparents told me that before Equestria was made, the unicorns used to have their own country and they made monsters out of other ponies. And some ponies believe that the monsters are going to come back to make us pay. I think we’re being punished.”
Lens sighed inwardly. Just a folk superstition. Of course the unicorns up here were still talking about Astrony. It was all they ever thought about, he reckoned. They’d act sometimes guilty, sometimes prideful—sometimes just deny anything troublesome about their history. Some things didn’t change, even after a thousand years.
“Well, we’ll certainly look into it,” he said diplomatically. “Thank you very much, Ms. Glow. Feel free to retire to your room and we’ll come to you if we need something.”
“You ought to look into it, you really ought to,” said Limestone. “This won’t be the last attack.” She made to leave, shakily. Lens started, as if to help her, but she waved him off.
Lens left the chamber with his mind rapidly spinning out possible explanations for the supernatural narrative he had just heard. A strange mist and a droning sound—magic could do that, so presumably a unicorn was involved here. As for the creatures, perhaps Limestone had been mistaken and they were simply armored earth ponies that she misidentified in her panic. Regardless, it was already shaping up to be one heck of a report.
In the Crystal Palace nearby, Princess Cadance had just received a new communication from Celestia. As she read it in a private chamber adjacent to the throne room, her calm and noble countenance was transformed: at first, her elegant brow curled and wrinkled in confusion, but as she read on, it flattened into shock. Finally, though, it was fear that broke her away from the words and turned her eyes large and frantic.
*****
Sheltered by the Freehorn Mountains, Buffalo Head Bay stretched some fifty miles across the east coast of Equestria, on the intersection of two great aerial currents: buffeted on the east by the icy winds from the ocean in the winter and thawed by the warm western winds that rolled slow and easy down the slopes in the spring and summer. Across the mountainous region, the warm winds were traditionally referred to as the Loer and sometimes caused splitting headaches, if folklore recalled by discontented grandparents was to be believed. Buffalo Head itself was one of Equestria’s older settlements; it remained a singular mix of quaint traditionalism, shielded from outside interference by the mountains, and a modest cosmopolitan character thanks to its even mix of unicorns, pegasi and earth ponies. It was here that in Harmony 1981, a local unicorn mare opened a bookstore.
She was known to be a peculiar type in Buffalo Head, separate in spirit from her neighbours. A strange dark petal, reticent and bookish, giddy and intense, her character was not well understood by the townsfolk. As a teenage schoolfilly, she was silent and fragile, her lips thin and tight, her purple coat revealing only the hint of a red flush in her cheeks, simmering with some mystic imaginings. She preferred books to ponies; she could see something of herself in them.
When she came of age, her grandmother Velvet Thyme died. The widow of a local businesspony, Thyme left behind a rather decadent house by Buffalo standards, which her daughter sold for a fair fortune. It was with this money that the granddaughter opened her bookstore.
Just six months after the shop was opened, the filly met a unicorn stallion from Fillydelphia who worked as a teacher at her local high school. He was educated at the University of Canterlot, and seemed to her a learned and worldly pony compared to the insular, ponderous Buffaloites. She fell quickly in love. They married in 1985 and by her, he begot a son and a daughter. Though both showed promise in the magical arts, the filly in particular was a gifted mage from the first spark her horn produced, and shortly before she entered school, they moved deeper into the mountains to Canterlot and opened a new branch of their business. It was there that the filly of Twilight Velvet and Night Light caught the eye of Princess Celestia.
In her later life, Twilight Velvet was the epitome of the converted Canterlot unicorn. She responded with deference to the snobbery of the haughtier locals and with awe to the fine manners of the cosmopolitan professionals in the upper echelons of Canterlot society. She was not a social climber; her infatuation with the capital was genuine and innocent, and she spoke warmly of its beauty to her children, who carried her love for Canterlot forward into their own lives, Buffalo Head Bay long forgotten. The daughter, Twilight Sparkle, would always regard Canterlot as her proper home, even when she was sent away from the city to study friendship in Ponyville, a formative experience by her own admission. When Princess Celestia made her designs on Twilight Sparkle clear and the young mare earned her wings to become a Princess of Equestria, it was quietly assumed by most parties, her parents included, that the new Princess would assume a role in government as Princess Cadance had; however, Princess Celestia, in her characteristic fashion, did not reveal her long-term plans for Princess Twilight even then. Instead, she gave the young Princess a simple command to return to Ponyville for the winter and learn to fly.
Twilight Sparkle’s loyalty to the Princess was unquestioned from her earliest lessons with her. If she was disappointed that her mentor had not been more obvious in her intentions, she never showed it. After a nationwide tour of Equestria, during which her celebrity grew across the country, Twilight returned to Ponyville and her friends, followed invisibly by Celestia’s interests, whose symbolic presence could no longer be ignored now that her gifts to Twilight were incarnate. Still, she would do her duty by the Princess.
Today was the day. She could feel it. For sure now—she would fly.
Surveying the white fields from atop the hill, she felt like a medieval conqueror. All the world seemed visible, from sparse Ponyville to the far off shapes of the proud Freehorns, within which was nestled Canterlot. The ponies below were nothing but insects from here, but today her foe was the sky.
Up above her, the expanse of cloud was uninterrupted. Not exactly optimal conditions, she thought. But then it never was.
Princess Twilight Sparkle spread her wings and launched off the ground, swooping upwards in what she hoped was a majestic arc. She climbed ever higher, the chill of the wintery air on her face only serving to fuel her adrenaline. The wind whistled in her ears and she felt the lurch of acceleration as she pulled up her legs. Yes! She could do it! The sky was hers to master!
“Yes!” she yelled. “Rainbow Dash, I think I’ve got it!”
An updraft from behind threw Twilight’s right wing off-balance and she yelped. Suddenly, she was hurtling back down towards the snow, spinning every which way. She flapped helplessly to slow her descent, but she was overcome by confusion and dizziness. By the time she had reoriented herself, she was facing the fast-approaching ground.
There was a snicker from behind her as Twilight raised her aching head out of the snow. Shaking away the wetness, she glared at the offending pony.
“By my count that’s five times she’s crashed in Sweet Apple Acres just today,” said Applejack. “What’re you teaching her anyway, flying or skydiving?”
“Hey, you can’t expect her to fly like me after such a short time,” said Rainbow Dash, landing next to Applejack. “Actually, you probably shouldn’t expect her to ever be as awesome as me, but I bet she’ll be outflying Fluttershy in a couple of weeks tops.” She turned to her dazed student. “That was a lot better, Twilight. You just need more control. This is the hardest part.”
Twilight groaned as she stood up, holding a hoof to her head.
“Please don’t placate me. I’m just bad at this.”
Rainbow Dash chuckled, trotting over to Twilight as she shook out her mane.
“I don’t get it,” continued Twilight. “I’ve read everything I can about flying—the physics, the history, every guidebook imaginable…”
“You’re never going to learn to fly from that stuff,” said Dash. “I never read one guidebook when I learned.”
“She’s right, y’know,” said Applejack, “I never needed a book to work the farm. You'll learn by doing it.”
“I guess that makes sense, but I’m not like that.” Twilight shivered, gazing forlornly at the pony-shaped hole she’d left in the snow. “I’m better at learning without the doing. You know that.”
“No one’s knocking it, Twi,” said Rainbow. “It’s just crazy boring. And flying is the opposite of boring!” She soared up to perform a quick loop-de-loop.
Twilight rolled her eyes and looked around to get her bearings. The path to the Apple family home was ten yards or so to her right. Leafless trees decorated the fields, coated in snow.
“This place is really beautiful in winter.”
“I’ve been cleanin’ up after the weather since dawn everyday," grumbled Applejack. "The work ain’t worth the view and I’m plumb tuckered out. I reckon this winter’s started too early.” She shot Rainbow Dash a look. Rainbow stared back at her obliviously for a couple of seconds before the penny dropped.
“Hey, don’t blame me! The weather’s the weather and we have to stick to schedule. Besides, I don’t make the decisions.”
Twilight sighed and zoned out as the pair began to bicker. She wished vaguely there was a better place for her to practice her flying. Applejack was always willing to goad Rainbow Dash into some kind of argument, and her boisterous friend was easily distracted. Eventually, Dash turned to address Twilight.
“We should finish for today,” she said. “I think you might have pushed yourself too hard. You’re looking pretty beat up.”
“Yes, I guess you’re right.” If nothing else, Twilight’s newly formed bruises had to concur with Dash. “I’ll be okay, though. Anyway, Spike coughed up a letter from Princess Celestia this morning that I haven’t read yet.”
Rainbow Dash trotted over to Twilight and gave her a quick look over. “Actually, you really do look hurt, Twi. You sure you don’t want any help getting home?”
Twilight shrugged and shook her head no. “I’ll be just fine. Thanks.”
“Are you sure? It’s no trouble for me.”
“No. Really.” Twilight managed a wan smile.
Dash drew back somewhat. “If you say so.” After a pause, she brightened and added, “Meet me here next week and I promise your days of sucktastic flying will be over!” She pumped a hoof to emphasise her point.
You said that last week, thought Twilight, but she held her tongue and smiled. As she left the farm, she couldn’t help but laugh when her friends immediately resumed their argument. Maybe she could get some solo practice in later.
*****
Opalescence mustn’t have been hungry on that particular morning, because Rarity found herself awoken not by her cat’s insistent mewling as per usual, but by the rather more piercing sound of her alarm clock. Quite a novelty, she thought, waving her hoof vaguely in the direction of the noise until it connected with the clock’s metal surface.
“Opal! Where are you?” Rarity sat up in bed, pulling off her sleep mask and releasing a soft yawn. “Good kitty.”
The cat was nowhere to be seen. Supposing that she was still asleep, Rarity got up and stretched out her sleepy forelegs before turning around to make up the bed, running her hooves carefully over the mauve duvet and fluffing up her pillows. It took her until she had brushed her mane for Rarity to notice her terrified cat clinging to a branch of the tree just outside her window.
Rarity shrieked and rushed downstairs. This was hardly the first time her ill-tempered pet had managed to get herself stuck in that tree—besides that time that her friends had planted her there. She hated to admit it, but Opal wasn’t exactly overburdened with intelligence. Still, as Rarity burst out of Carousel Boutique, the cat managed to suppress her fear enough to throw her owner a contemptuous look. Sighing, Rarity concentrated, and a blue glow surrounded Opal, who meowed resentfully in response.
“Goodness, you’re heavy,” muttered Rarity. “I think it’s high time we cut down on the gourmet kitty food.”
“Hey Rarity, need a hoof?”
Twilight's voice from her left made Rarity start and she nearly dropped Opal.
“Why, thank you, Twilight,” said Rarity, recovering quickly. She felt the burden of Opal’s weight lessen as Twilight focused her magic on the cat, and the two unicorns carefully lowered her from the tree as she waved her claws ineffectively at them. As soon as her paws touched the ground, Opal stood frozen in wide-eyed confusion, and only after a few moments waddled back into the boutique. Rarity raised an exasperated eyebrow.
It was only then that Rarity remembered that she had performed exactly zero of her necessary grooming rituals before coming outside. She was a mess! What would Twilight think? A blush burned hotly on Rarity’s cheeks as she turned to explain herself to her friend.
“Twilight!” she exclaimed. “I really must apologise for my appearance. I really don’t know what I was…” started Rarity. Her words evaporated when she saw Twilight. Why, she looked like an overripe peach with all those bruises! And there was mud and slush in her mane!
“Oh, my,” she squeaked, “What in Celestia’s name happened to you? Are you all right?”
“Haha, yeah, I’m”—Twilight winced as she lifted her foreleg for emphasis—“just fine. No problems here. I just had my first flying lesson from the top of a hill. Up until now, I’ve just been sticking to flat ground. It’s no problem.”
“My dear Twilight, please!” said Rarity. “You must come into my home and rest. I’ll make you some hot tea.”
“That won’t be necessary,” said Twilight, chuckling. “But thanks.”
“Oh, I insist!”
It took a little cajoling to convince her, but it wasn’t long before Twilight found herself seated in Rarity’s living room, staring at her furniture while her friend prepared tea. The hypnotic sound of boiling water emanated from the kitchen.
“You don’t really need to do this,” said Twilight. “I was actually heading home when you found me.”
“You were limping, Twilight, and I won’t hear anything else from you” called Rarity from the kitchen. “You can stay here as long as you need.”
Twilight threw a worried glance in Rarity's direction before turning back to stare at the rug. Unsurprisingly, it was soft and elegant affair, light purple in colour—no, not purple, Twilight corrected herself. After all, Rarity wouldn’t tolerate such imprecision when it came to décor. It was violet, not purple. Lilac, maybe. That’s right, thought Twilight smugly. I can do this too.
She turned back towards the kitchen door, and her neck protested by means of a painful twinge. A high-pitched eep escaped her lips. She hated to admit it, but maybe the rest wasn’t such a bad idea. Her condition was pretty bad.
As the bubbles started to dance in the boiling water, Rarity was thinking about the flight training that had led to Twilight’s condition. The newly minted Alicorn had remained tight-lipped about Celestia’s plans for her, and insisted that her friends simply pretend that nothing had changed despite her royal status, at least for now. Rarity knew as well as anyone that Celestia was training Twilight for something, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what that was.
What Rarity did know was that just a few days ago, Princess Celestia had darkened her door in the middle of the night and carried her away to Canterlot. She didn’t return until the following evening. With surprising conversational deftness that differed from her usually awkward manner, Twilight had avoided any discussion of the visit and downplayed its importance. Undoubtedly, she was guarding some kind of royal secret, and Rarity supposed she had no right to pressure Twilight about something like that—still, she felt like the friend she’d known was drifting away from her. To see Twilight disheveled and embarrassed was almost a relief, reminding Rarity that the self-conscious, fallible Twilight Sparkle remained beneath the wings and the title. Regardless, she wondered what exactly was motivating Twilight to push herself so hard.
Presently, Rarity finished the tea and returned to the pensive Twilight. They exchanged pleasantries and Twilight hobbled over to Rarity’s coffee table with a wan smile. Rarity gave a comforting nod and headed into her room with the intention of cleaning herself up as much as possible in the time she had. She managed to get about ten minutes of alone time before there was an urgent knock on the door to the boutique. Growling under her breath, Rarity stomped back through her shop.
“We’re closed today!”
A muffled voice replied, “Rarity! It’s me, Spike! Is Twilight there? I’m looking for her. It’s super important!”
Rarity groaned under her breath and moved to open the door, revealing an exhausted Spike. He was clutching two letters in his claws, one of which was unopened. Panting, he trudged inside and plopped down on the floor.
“Hello, my dear,” said Rarity. “Twilight happened to pass by my boutique, and she looked awfully sore after her flying lesson, so I invited her to stay here for a little while. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until she’s feeling better.”
“I’ve looking everywhere for her! I got an urgent letter from Princess Celestia this morning. It’s super important. She even sent me a letter as well telling me to make sure Twilight writes back before the end of the day.” Spike waved one of the two scrolls. “She really needs a response.”
“Now, now, you don’t have to worry. You can wait here until Twilight comes out.”
“Yeah, okay,” said Spike bashfully, “It’s just this is super important and—uh, well, I’m n-not actually supposed to be telling you anything…”
Now, maybe this could be interesting, thought Rarity. She couldn’t resist the opportunity. Smiling sweetly and crouching slightly so that she was nearer to the baby dragon’s eye level, Rarity watched as a hot blush rose in her young admirer’s scaly cheeks.
“Whatever could be so important?” she asked in pouty mock-confusion, “My dear Spikey-Wikey, I promise you can trust me.”
Spike scratched at his scales uncomfortably. Rarity’s charms were as delicate and sweet as they were brutally systematic.
“I’m s-s-orry, it’s a secret. I can’t tell you.”
“Oh, but I’d be so upset if you didn’t think me trustworthy enough to share it. Please, Spikey-Wikey.” Rarity batted her formidable eyelashes at him.
Spike was staring very intensely at a sleek red dress on display just behind Rarity. He didn’t want to disappoint Twilight or Princess Celestia, but he really didn’t want to disappoint Rarity.
“You have to promise not to tell,” he said in a low voice.
“Of course, darling,” said Rarity, winking conspiratorially. “I promise. It’ll be our little secret.”
“Y-yeah,” mumbled Spike. “I’ll tell you, but I don’t know a lot. Twilight hasn’t told me very much.”
“It’s quite all right. I just need to feel that you can trust me.” Rarity flashed Spike a teary smile. He beamed and pushed out his chest.
“Well, from what I hear, there’s this really old enemy of Princess Celestia’s and she’s come back to Equestria. Twilight says that she’s as old as the Princess is.”
“What sort of enemy? Is it Discord again?”
“I don’t know,” admitted Spike. “Princess Celestia is very worried, though. Twilight will be going back to Canterlot really soon to deal with it. She’s already getting packed up.”
Rarity frowned. It was a relief that Twilight wasn’t hiding anything sinister. In her fanciful imagination, Rarity had imagined Celestia to be gradually prying Twilight away from Ponyville and her friends—such a dreadful thought! Of course, this was hardly good news, but Twilight was a very powerful pony and Rarity was inclined to place faith in her ability to deal with this.
“Has this enemy done anything yet?” she asked.
“I—don't know that either. I don’t think the Princess is even sure about this yet,” said Spike.
“You don’t think the Princess is sure?” Rarity repeated.
“I’m sorry, I said I didn’t know much,” said Spike, blushing. “But she wants Twilight to help deal with it.”
“She also wants Twilight to keep it a secret,” said the familiar voice of Twilight Sparkle from above. Rarity squeaked in surprise, while Spike immediately fell over himself in an attempt to apologise.
“Twilight, I’m sorry! I mean, uh…” said Spike “It’s Rarity. We can trust her, right?”
Twilight was at the top of the stairs, holding up her hurt foreleg. Her eyes flicked between Spike and Rarity, who was ineffectively attempting to affect a proud, disinterested countenance. With an annoyed sigh, Twilight shook her head and descended the stairs.
“Twilight! Why, you finished your tea very quickly!” Rarity wore an uneasy smile.
“Yeah, well, you might not know this, but I actually have a pretty urgent letter to read.”
“I apologise for going behind your back,” said Rarity, “but you know I hate to be out of the loop.”
“Everypony’s out of the loop,” said Twilight. “I’m sorry, but this is private business.”
“Private business? An enemy to Equestria?”
“It's an matter of national security,” said Twilight. “We don’t want to cause undue panic. You can’t tell anypony about this. Please, Rarity. We have to trust the Princess.”
“What’s going to happen?” Rarity asked.
“I don't really know exactly, but—I repeat—we have to trust the Princess,” said Twilight. Her horn glowed and the letter popped out of Spike’s claws. As she unrolled it, she looked up to see Rarity staring intently at the scroll. “No, Rarity.”
“You can’t be serious! What could possibly be in there that’s so very terrible?”
Spike spoke up, “Hey, what about me? I don’t like it when you keep secrets from me.”
“The Princess ordered me to!”
“Twiliiiight!” whined Rarity, stomping petulantly. Twilight closed her eyes and snorted in irritation.
“Seriously? Sometimes you’re about as much of a lady as…”—Twilight looked at the expectant Rarity, whose raised eyebrow dared her to continue—“actually, never mind. And you know what: okay, sure. I’ll read you this one. I mean honestly, the Princess isn’t likely to just send out a letter filled with confidential information. But! You absolutely cannot tell anyone. Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” said Rarity, grinning.
“Great.” Twilight turned to the scroll and read, “Dearest Twilight. It’s as I feared. The incidents continue south of Sapphire Ridge.”
“Sapphire Ri—”
“Don't get excited, it’s just a name,” interjected Twilight. She continued to read, “It may only be days before it reaches Fillydelphia. We know who is responsible. It is time for you to return to Canterlot, in—indefinitely. Don’t worry about your Ponyville friends; they will be needed, and will be called here when the time is right. For now, tell them whatever you need to tell them in order to return here and help me with preparations. Please respond as soon as possible to confirm. Your friend, Princess Celestia.”
Twilight let the scroll drop to see Spike and Rarity looking at her wide-eyed. Tapping her hoof anxiously, Twilight presented them with a wan smile. Rarity let out a dainty sigh and trotted towards the stairs.
“Well, it didn’t tell us much about this enemy of yours, but at least now I know exactly where I stand.”
“Please don’t be mad,” said Twilight. “You know I have to do this.”
“Oh, I’m not mad, darling,” said Rarity, looking back at Twilight with a cheery smile. “Not at all. You’re taking me with you to Canterlot!”
Twilight started. “Why would I take you to Canterlot? I just told you to keep this secret. Are you threatening me?”
“You must see the potential here, Twilight. Why, firstly, it would a perfect cover story.” Rarity flipped her hair. “You know how I feel about Canterlot. As a highly esteemed designer, I have plenty of very good reasons to travel there—it is the heart of the Equestrian fashion industry, after all—and as my friend, you have even more reason to accompany me.”
“I don’t know,” said Twilight. “Celestia gave me very specific orders. This whole ‘threat to Equestria’ stuff isn’t frivolous, you know. Ponies have…” She trailed off, shaking her head.
“Well, if this matter is so very serious, then surely my presence will be a comfort. Not to mention, the Princess wrote that we’d be invited up regardless. I’m looking after Sweetie Belle at the moment, but if my parents still aren’t available, I’m sure I could leave her at Applejack’s and come up there to lend you a hoof—for at least, oh, a couple of weeks! What’s more, it’ll be fun! Why, we haven’t had a proper day out together for far too long. We’ll have some time for that, right?”
Twilight raised a skeptical eyebrow, and Rarity added, “Besides, I’m sure Fancy would be delighted to see me.”
Twilight registered Rarity’s real intentions at the mention of Fancy Pants, and her face immediately softened. Rarity had told her about her interest in him a little while ago. Twilight remained unconvinced as to whether it was because of his good character or his noble status, but she was happy to support any of her friends in their pursuits.
“Okay, Rarity. You can come with me to Canterlot, and you can be my cover story.” Twilight paused. “You know, you could have just said that you wanted to see Fancy.”
“Oh, darling, thank you! I’ll pack immediately.” Rarity trotted away with a self-satisfied expression, ignoring Twilight’s last remark.
“Rarity’s coming with us?” asked Spike excitedly.
Twilight smiled at him and nodded. Truthfully, the apprehension she’d shown was mostly out of loyalty to her mentor. Her relationship with the Princess was gradually being complicated by new responsibilities, and it was a little overwhelming. All things considered, she’d be grateful for Rarity’s company on this trip. Still, new or not, those responsibilities came first, and she felt queasy to imagine Princess Celestia’s reaction to all this.
“The Princess wants me to leave as soon as possible, so how about we get the train tomorrow at noon? That gives us today to tell the others and pack. We’ll all meet at the library in the morning and we can say our goodbyes then,” asked Twilight. “I’ll book the tickets, so don’t worry. You can pay me back later.”
“Sounds great to me!” was the response from upstairs.
“And uh, thanks for the tea…”
Rarity listened as the door closed, and then fell back onto her chaise longue. She supposed that she should have been more concerned about the threat to Equestria, but she couldn’t suppress her excitement when she thought of returning to Canterlot. The culture, the fashion, the society! And, of course, her dear Fancy. There were so many noble unicorns in that city but only he had such easy charm and grace, and such a lack of prejudice. She knew he cared for her too, but clearly he needed her to show him something more. She could flirt with every stallion in Canterlot and drive him mad with jealousy, and only then reveal her true feelings, when he could hardly stand it anymore!
Sighing and falling back on her cushions, Rarity pressed her hooves to her cheeks as she thought of Fancy. He was the epitome of aristocratic charm. His elegant features and flowing mane were spellbindingly beautiful, and the delicacy of his looks was offset so appropriately by that strong, masculine horn. She knew he must like her. He had shown her such kindness in all the time she had known him. Last year, there had been a special Hearth’s Warming celebration in Canterlot as the Equestrian calendar moved into the Year 2000, and Fancy had danced with her more than any other lady as the fireworks exploded above them. If only she could get him alone, she knew that he would ask her for her hoof on the spot, and she would say yes, and they would a wedding so grand that ponies would still talk about it decades from now!
Rarity tittered lightly. Perhaps she was getting ahead of herself, but then she was hardly the type to remain meek and unsure when it came to her own aspirations. Of course, she also fully intended to help Twilight with anything she asked, whatever it was. She absolutely couldn’t forget about her friend, even if she was bound to secrecy for the moment.
Now was the time for preparations, though. Sweetie Belle would be waking up soon. After Rarity was through getting ready, she would speak to her, and then head up to Sweet Apple Acres to tell Applejack and ask her about looking after Sweetie Belle. There was no time to lose.
Outside, the chilly sun emerged from behind clouds to gently push away the shadows hanging over Rarity’s room. She smiled.
*****
The Apple family wasn’t known for quietude. At almost any time of the year, you could find Sweet Apple Acres just by following the shouts and laughs and calls, the busy squeak of wooden wheels as produce was moved about the farm, the thumps of hooves bucked against trees to shake loose the apples in fall, the enthusiastic hoots of encouragement between relatives. In winter, however, the farm turned barren, its residents shivering indoors around the hearth, with bowls of hot, thick oats and mugs of cocoa. It’s in our blood, old Granny Smith told her younger kin. The Apples came up from the Southlands, she said, where it was hot all year and no ice and snow was there to thicken their coats against the cold. For as long as anyone in Ponyville could remember, it was generally known that an Apple would rather lick the backside of a pig than suffer the cold longer than she had to.
Applejack, shivering in her boots outside, fully intended to see that this family tradition remained unaltered. She probably would have been attending to that already were it not for the presence of a restless Rainbow Dash determined to get her blood pumping this morning, even if that meant making her participate in an endless string of friendly races all through Sweet Apple Acres. The two ponies were standing among the trees, the snow beneath them muddied by their hooves.
“But I’ve got nothing else to do!” complained Dash. “Just one more race. Best of fifteen, okay?”
“I can’t run no more races, Dash!” said Applejack. “I’m sorry, but I just ain’t one for the cold. If y’want, come on inside and you can have brunch with me and Apple Bloom.”
Apparently, Rainbow Dash had no assignments today. The snow lay heavy on the land and the clouds were drifting lazily across the sky. With little to occupy her after Twilight’s flying lesson, she had let the task of keeping her entertained fall to Applejack.
Dash just groaned in response to Applejack’s suggestion, so she continued, “If you don’t want to hang about here, then don’t you have anything better to do? Lives that need saving? Wonderbolt training?”
“Hey, I didn’t say no yet!” protested Dash. “I’ll stick around for brunch, I guess.” She paused, and then very deliberately added, “Since you won’t do anything else.”
“That’s what I like t’hear! Come with me.” Applejack sighed inwardly in deep relief and trotted back towards the Apple home. The things she’d do for a friend.
Applejack had always felt a natural closeness with Rainbow Dash due to their shared interests, but since Twilight Sparkle’s ascension, it seemed like they spent most of their free time together. It was a comfort of sorts, even if it meant spending an unspeakable length of time racing fruitlessly around Sweet Apple Acres when it was too cold to feel your own hooves.
As usual, Apple Bloom was thrilled to see Rainbow Dash and was upon her as soon as she laid her hoof on the welcome mat. After she was through bombarding her with questions about her most recent escapades, the ponies sat down at a table before the hearth and Applejack went to retrieve their food.
“Is Twilight doing well?” asked Apple Bloom. “I saw you teaching her flying.”
“Yeah, I think she’s good,” said Dash. “She’s not a natural flyer, but she’s getting better. Helps to have the best as your teacher.”
Apple Bloom laughed and said, “She looks real beautiful with those wings.”
“Yeah, she sure does,” agreed Rainbow, staring down at the Saddle Arabian rug.
Applejack returned with three large bowls of oatmeal and the ponies tucked in. It wasn’t long before Rainbow and Applejack were going for seconds, and then thirds. Apple Bloom made some derisive remark about her sister’s eating habits that made them both laugh, but it was quickly forgotten when they were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Still chuckling, Applejack stood up and made to answer it. The cold air rushed in.
“Applejack, good morning!” The visitor was a bright-eyed Rarity, dressed up in a pink scarf and brown studded boots. “How are you?”
By Celestia, thought Applejack, that pony sure does like to look good. She supposed it wasn’t a bad thing, but how anyone could think about how they looked when it was this cold was a mystery to her.
“Hey, Rarity!” called out Apple Bloom. The unicorn offered a cheery wave in response.
“I’m just fine,” said Applejack. “Thanks for asking. What brings you to my neck of the woods?”
“I need to ask you a favor, I’m afraid,” explained Rarity. “I’ll be going away to Canterlot with Twilight for a little while—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” interjected Rainbow Dash, turning towards the door. “Twilight is doing what with you?”
Rarity beamed. “She’s going to Canterlot with me to help me promote my upcoming collection! It’s a little impromptu because I had to reschedule some appointments, but we’ll be off tomorrow.”
“Oh, fashion. Okay.” Rainbow Dash looked away.
“All right,” said Applejack slowly. “What’s this ‘bout a favor then?”
“Well, I can’t take my dear Sweetie Belle to Canterlot. My sister needs a roof over her head and someone to take care of her.” Rarity shot a smile at Apple Bloom, whose head snapped back towards the door at the sound of Sweetie’s name. “If it isn’t too much of a bother, could you please let her stay with you? If you can’t, I’d be more than happy to look elsewhere—it’s just that I’m sure Apple Bloom would be very happy for Sweetie Belle to stay here.”
“Yes, I sure as hay would!” exclaimed Apple Bloom. “Please let Sweetie Belle stay, Applejack!”
Applejack smiled at her sister. “Of course we can do that, Rarity. Y’know we all love Sweetie ‘round here. For how long?”
“Only a couple of weeks, if it’s all right by you. Twilight and I are meeting at the library tomorrow at noon. You can come and see us off and pick up Sweetie Belle there, if you like”
Applejack’s eyes widened, but her grin didn’t falter. “It’s a lil’ short notice, but I reckon I can take her on just the same!”
Apple Bloom let out a yell and hopped up and down in place. The adults shared a grin at the filly’s excitement, although Applejack silently hoped that she hadn’t made a big mistake.
“Thank you thank you thank you! Big Sis, you’re the best!”
“Well then, get yourself upstairs and lay out the spare bed!” said Applejack. “May as well start preparing ourselves early.”
Apple Bloom immediately obliged and Applejack turned back to face Rarity. She couldn’t put her hoof on it, but something wasn’t right about this trip to Canterlot. There was a subtle discomfort in Rarity’s demeanour that might have gone undetected if she were talking to anypony else. Not Applejack.
“Rarity,” she said carefully, running a hoof awkwardly through her straw-coloured mane. “I don’t mean to pry or nothing, but what’s going on with Twi? I feel like there’s something more to this here trip of yours.”
A flash of panic breached Rarity’s fragile features. “Twilight is quite all right, I assure you. It’s just that I needed some assistance—”
“Consarnit, Rarity!” exclaimed Applejack. “You and I know that something is up with that pony. You said it to me yourself, for the love of Celestia. Yesterday.”
This was true—Applejack had bumped into a miserable Rarity in town, and she’d repeated the same words that Applejack had been hearing from everypony: Twilight Sparkle is pulling away from us. It had angered her at the time. Despite their differences, Applejack had a peculiar friend in Rarity. They were very much unlike one another in the fundamentals; Applejack perceived the world in straight, clear lines drawn by fate or circumstance, whereas Rarity seemed to live in a shadowed network of social possibilities, all of which might be transformed into opportunities if the need arose. Her mannered speech and social deftness were curious to Applejack, who in her moments of doubt sometimes felt a shameful envy for Rarity.
“You’re quite right, Applejack. I apologise.” Rarity looked somewhat humiliated, and Applejack regretted the harsh tone she had used with her. “There is more to it than fashion, but frankly, it would be a breach of trust for me to reveal more than I have. Just know that Twilight is going to meet with Princess Celestia to discuss something big that might be coming to Equestria soon. Oh my, I’m already saying too much.” Rarity looked down and mumbled, “I’m sorry Applejack. If you’ve changed your mind about Sweetie…”
“Aw, don’t talk like that now.” Applejack tried to cheer Rarity up with another grin. “Course I’ll look after Sweetie Belle. I get you about the secrecy thing. Twi’s my friend too and I wouldn’t want to break our trust neither.”
Rarity’s smile returned. “Thank you. I’m glad you understand. I just found out what I know through sheer chance anyway. I promise that everything will be made clear in a few weeks.”
“That’s just great, Rare,” said Applejack.
The two ponies made their farewells and shared an awkward wave as Applejack closed the door.
“I do all that work teaching her flying and she spills her secrets to Rarity?” moaned Rainbow Dash. “What is up with that pony? Did you see how hurt she was today? I didn’t wanna say it to her face, but what in Equestria was she thinking trying to fly off that hill?”
“Don’t you worry now, Dash. I’m sure it ain’t nothing.” Applejack plopped down next to her friend and playfully prodded her side with a hoof. “Rarity said she found out by accident anyhow.” Dash sighed and toyed absently with the empty bowl in front of her.
“Hey, you trust Rarity, don’t you?” said Applejack. “She knows about whatever’s going on, and she ain’t panicked at all. And that pony is the biggest drama queen in all of Ponyville! You got to believe things’ll be okay if she’s acting calm.”
Rainbow Dash smiled wanly at Applejack. “Look, I appreciate that you’re just trying to cheer me up, but I just need to fly this off or something. I’ll maybe come back later if it’s all right—I dunno, we can compare muscles or whatever. Or talk, maybe.”
Applejack laughed and cleared the table. The two mares said their goodbyes and Applejack offered Dash a hug, which she returned stiffly. Rainbow Dash exited the house and took off at a leisurely pace. As her blurred form was swept up in a blanket of clouds, Applejack stood in the doorway watching.
Whatever Princess Celestia is feeding Twilight, she thought, perhaps it had something to do with the wrongness she felt this winter. What she had said to Dash was true—the cold season shouldn’t bite so hard this time of year. She could sense that something was off in the air, like when a dragon neared Ponyville, but this feeling was broader and more universal.
Applejack shivered again. She hated the cold.
III. Let the wheel be opened
III. Let the wheel be opened
Harmony 2000
“Should I take the scarlet? Ah, no! The maroon here, it’s more subtle…then again…”
Rarity had been trotting about Carousel Boutique for the past two hours, her meticulous inventory drifting at her tail, held aloft by magic. She was packing. The perfumes, the outfits—dresses long and short, hats and scarves, shoes for walking and shoes for dancing and shoes for both—and of course all of her tools and materials, the luxurious rolls of silk and velveteen and fur, the sewing machine, the tightly wound thread, the buttons and the zippers. As always, Rarity was determined to be over-prepared.
These preparations extended to her social life. Not only had Rarity mentally sketched out her dubious path to a Canterlot wedding with Fancy, but she had also decided that she was going to have serious words with Twilight regarding her behavior. This idea had occurred to her at Sweet Apple Acres. Applejack and Rainbow Dash seemed so very unhappy about their friend’s distant behavior, and Rarity couldn’t bear to stand idle. Applejack’s intolerably rustic ways might have aggravated her on occasion, but Rarity hated to see her so down in the dumps. She was a kind and reliable friend, and it was disgraceful for her to be so neglected by Twilight. Now Rarity too held Twilight’s secrets, and that certainly wouldn’t do. Whether the blame lay at the hooves of Twilight or Celestia, all of this nonsense had to be sorted out, and Rarity would be the one to do it.
Sweetie Belle was watching with interest from the coffee table in the living room as Rarity flitted this way and that, talking to herself. She knew better than to disturb her sister when she was this busy, and besides, she had nothing to complain about. Rarity had told her that she was going to stay with Apple Bloom for a full two weeks since her parents were still away on business in Whinnyapolis. Naturally, Sweetie was excited—she could already imagine the new adventures Apple Bloom would be cooking up for them. Apple Bloom had a mind for making adventures.
“Wouldn’t you agree, Sweetie?”
Sweetie abruptly realized that Rarity had trotted over to the table and started speaking to her. She smiled at Rarity vaguely, in hopes that it was an adequate response.
“Oh, Sweetie, didn’t you hear what I said?” asked Rarity irritably. “I’m quite busy, in case you didn’t notice.”
“Sorry, I just zoned out. What is it?”
“Well, I’m sure you’ve heard me talking about how Twilight has been awfully strange since she got her wings, yes?”
“Yes, she hasn’t spent as much time with you or any of her other friends.” Sweetie had endured plenty of fretting from her sister over the potentially disastrous social ramifications of Twilight’s behavior. Whatever that meant. Still, she knew why Rarity was upset, one way or another.
“I thought that this little business trip would be an excellent opportunity for me to arrange a little heart-to-heart with Twilight. You know how awfully worried all of us have been about her and it simply cannot go on. Do you think that’s a good idea?”
Sweetie Belle allowed herself a sardonic smile. Rarity didn’t really want her opinion; she just wanted her to tell her what a great idea it was and that it definitely would do the trick. She was more than happy to do that.
“I do! I’ve seen how much Twilight’s been making you sad and it’s not right.”
Rarity beamed. “It isn’t, is it? And you know, when I saw Applejack and Rainbow Dash today, they were so worried about Twilight that she was all that they wanted to know about when I said she was coming with me.”
Something occurred to Sweetie in that moment and she asked, “Hey, I just remembered that you said you didn’t have any new designs a couple of weeks ago. What are you promoting?”
“Oh, there’s been a change of plan,” Rarity said quickly. “There are some very important ponies in Canterlot who might be willing to invest in Carousel Boutique and so I’m going to have to work extra-hard for them.”
“All right.” Sweetie hopped off the couch and trotted over to nuzzle her sister. “I’ll miss you. I hope you don’t have such a good time in Canterlot that you forget all about me.”
“Oh, Sweetie!” Rarity rested her head on Sweetie’s mane protectively. “Of course not! How ever could you say such a thing?”
“Hah! I’m just teasing!” Sweetie snickered. “I hope it’s great for you.”
The sisters embraced for a few moments, but then Rarity remembered that she still hadn’t packed any books just in case she had any spare time to read, and so she cantered off to the adjoining room with a hasty apology. Sweetie rolled her eyes and helped herself to a lemon candy from the bowl on the table.
“Now, I hear that Manehattan Love Story gets excellent reviews—then again, a book of travel essays might be more appropriate, and it is by Spellbound…”
*****
Spike ran a claw over the checklist one last time. Clothes, books, parchment, pens, a few bottles of herbal ointment from the apothecary (just in case)—all was accounted for. He closed the clasps on Twilight’s bag. The tough canvas was lavender, like her coat.
“We’re all packed for tomorrow, Twilight.” Spike took a seat in the middle of the library.
“Great. Thanks.” Twilight glanced up from her book to acknowledge her assistant.
Spike rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well. Now I’m going out to the Everfree Forest to challenge a Timberwolf to a wrestling match.”
“Take a coat and scarf. It’s cold,” said Twilight. Spike chucked and stretched out on his little stool. After his encounter with Rarity, he was quite content.
A sharp knock at the door displaced Twilight’s focus. Sighing, she got up from the rug. Her bruises were none too happy about this sudden movement, and she gasped. Spike looked up in concern.
“Don’t worry,” said Twilight before he could comment. She moved to open the door, dragging her hooves slightly.
“Twilight!” There stood Rainbow Dash. She wore a pensive expression. “Just checking in to make sure you’re okay. You look better.”
“I am,” said Twilight. “Rarity caught me on my way home and insisted that I stop and take a break to catch my breath.”
“Oh.” Dash nodded and looked away. “I actually saw Rarity this morning at Applejack’s. She said—you were going away for a while.”
“Yes, we’re going to Canterlot,” said Twilight. “Rarity needs to go for business reasons. I’m just there to—”
“I know that’s not why you’re going.”
Twilight started to speak, and then she closed her mouth. What could she say?
Dash continued. “I don’t know what Celestia’s been filling your head with since you got your wings, but just because I don’t read books or use magic doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”
“I never said you were.” Twilight stared down at her hooves. “I guess I should have anticipated this. I’m sorry, but I’m just not authorized to speak to you about it. I’m a princess now. I have higher responsibilities.”
“And Rarity? What’s she got to do with it?”
“Nothing. I swear, I’m telling you the truth. She got Spike to confess the paltry amount of information that he knows and then she insisted on coming with me. She loves Canterlot; you know that. I think she just wants to see Fancy Pants.”
Dash only nodded again and stood slightly bowed and weak of posture, gazing at the stone porch of the library. There was snow still there, flattened and browned by Twilight’s hoofprints.
“Look, I have to work tomorrow at noon,” said Dash at length, “so I can’t see you to say goodbye. I have to say it now, okay?”
“Okay.” Twilight wished she could say more but duty stayed her tongue. She made to embrace her friend, but Dash didn’t reciprocate, so she pursed her lips and retreated slightly into the library. “I’ll see you in a couple of weeks. We can get straight back into flying lessons.”
“Yeah. Yeah, that’ll be fun,” said Dash. “Bye, Twilight.”
“Bye.” Twilight waved. Her gaze shifted in jerks and stops between the ground and Rainbow Dash.
Rainbow Dash acknowledged her with a tilt of the head, and then she turned and walked away. She centred herself on the square in front of the library and wearily flapped her wings in preparation for departure. The featureless clouds still lined the sky above, muting the warm colours of evening. Rainbow wondered what the ponies at HQ were doing. The clouds just kept coming and she couldn’t manage them. Winter wrap-up was still a ways off, but she hoped there’d be a change soon, or the task of clearing it up would be exceptionally hard. Come to think of it, she had probably dawdled too long outside. Tonight was the new moon and it would be very dark.
“Wait! Rainbow Dash!” The voice was Twilight’s. “I have something for you!”
Rainbow Dash dropped back onto the grass and faced Twilight, who was approaching her at a brisk canter, a book drifting above her head. What now?
“I got in contact with A.K—uh, Daring Do,” said Twilight stiffly, “and I convinced her to let me have an advance copy of Daring Do and the Sceptre of the Silver King, as a present for you. I was going to give it to you tomorrow, but if I won’t see you…”
Rainbow Dash snatched the book out the air excitedly. “This isn’t coming out until next month! Wow, thanks!”
Twilight’s expression relaxed into a small smile. “I’d be the first to admit I’m not the most socially gifted pony in Equestria, but I know it’s been tough for you guys since I got my wings. I don’t want to leave on bad terms. What I mean is—I’m sorry. I know it’s just a book, but I’m no good at saying these things with words sometimes.”
“Hah! I have the same problem!” Rainbow Dash flipped through the book excitedly as she spoke. “Sometimes I don’t think enough before I say something and it comes out wrong.”
“Well, I think my problem is the opposite.” Twilight shifted her hooves in the snow inelegantly.
Dash chuckled. “It’s okay. I accept your apology. I just hope that whatever you’re doing is worth it.”
Twilight nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”
Dash stood still for a moment, and then she leaned in to give Twilight the hug that she’d wanted before. The sudden warmth of her neck against Dash’s face made her shiver.
“Goodbye,” Twilight replied. “Enjoy your book.”
“Yeah,” said Rainbow, “I’ll miss you, Twilight. Just so long as you don’t tell our friends that I’ve gone sappy or anything. ”
Twilight released her and they parted on their truce. Dash thrust upwards off the ground once again, bracing herself against the numbing cruelty of the winter winds, climbing up and up and up, as fast as she could bear, up until she reached her destination—that sweet spot where the sun still peaked shyly over the horizon, its light pooling on the clouds.
Down below, Twilight plodded back inside the library. The lanterns glowed an inconstant burnt orange and her gaze moved absently between the jagged shadows and the objects that cast them. She turned to Spike as he approached.
“Twilight,” he started. “I don’t mean to sound callous, but Rainbow Dash—if Red Dust comes she’ll probably be—”
“Yes.” Twilight sniffed and wiped her hooves clean. “She’s one of the best flyers in Equestria.”
“But it’ll be okay. She’s done it before, right?” said Spike.
Twilight breathed out long and slow. “You should put some pajamas on before you go to bed, Spike. The nights are getting cold.”
Spike twitched his head in response. He was staring out the window and the window reflected his blank eyes. His earlier contentedness had departed. Twilight moved to retrieve a piece of parchment from a shelf. She looked it over thoroughly and the corners of her mouth creased gently.
“I guess you must have seen the other letter I got today,” said Twilight.
“Yeah. Also from Canterlot. I was actually wondering about that.” Spike pulled away from the glass. “Who was it?”
“Trixie.” Twilight pushed an errant strand of hair back behind her ear.
“Trixie?” Spike looked at her aghast. “And this isn’t surprising you at all? Trixie?”
“Well, to be honest, it’s not the first communication I’ve received from her,” Twilight admitted. “After she left Ponyville this year, I extended an olive branch. I helped her find a job in Canterlot.”
“You did what? And you didn’t tell anyone? Seriously, Twilight?”
Twilight turned on Spike with a glare. “Was I supposed to tell someone? I just wrote her a recommendation. She works as a court entertainer now. She wasn’t exactly eager to accept my help, but her financial situation was pretty bad and she came around. She’s a talented mage and she deserved it. I am supposed to represent the spirit of friendship, right?”
Spike rolled his eyes. “Spare me the lecture. What does the letter say?”
“I thought it might cheer you up. It’s pretty touching, actually.” A gentle smile came over Twilight’s face. “I mean—I think she appreciated the gesture.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll read it to you:
“Dear Twilight Sparkle,
“Thank you for your encouragement. Your stories have made Trixie think better of you despite your earlier disrespect. Trixie has to admit that she always thought you were just a privileged aristocrat who got lucky but that does not appear to be the case. Trixie thinks that she understands you better now.
“Trixie’s show started in Hoofington but you probably know that she is actually a Canterlot unicorn as well. Trixie comes from the south side and I'm sure you know what I mean by that. My parents owned a flower shop and they barely made enough money to put me through school. But Trixie did go to school—to your school, Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, after she made top of her magic class at her local academy. You wouldn’t remember Trixie since you were whisked away by the Princess, but Trixie’s parents worked so hard to pay for that school in the hope that Trixie would elevate the family’s standing. Unfortunately, things have just been getting harder. Trixie isn’t stupid. She always knew that a showpony was ultimately superfluous in the wider view. Some glamour mages work as spies or diplomats but I don’t have those skills. I’m just an entertainer. You know, when I was traveling all over Equestria performing, I always thought that I had failed my parents. I was a “gifted unicorn,” right? I was supposed to be worth something. Worth more than a bored small town crowd. Like you.
“Please ignore Trixie’s last paragraph. She is getting soft from spending so much time with Canterlot fat cats. But anyway, Trixie heard through the court that you were in Canterlot two weeks ago. Trixie is sure you are wondering about this so she takes it upon herself to reassure you: if you really must, you are permitted to visit Trixie. She has an apartment on 34 Maple Avenue. Incidentally, Trixie was fortunate enough to receive Princess Luna as a guest once. Impressive, yes? Once more, thank you for helping me.
“Best regards.” Twilight sighed as she finished the letter. “The Great and Powerful Trixie.”
Spike scratched awkwardly at his neck. “That was nice, I guess. Why are you reading it to me?”
Twilight made a rough sound of exasperation and folded the letter away carefully. “I just thought it would be a nice respite from the situation in Canterlot.” Twilight shook her head. “It’s nice to be reminded of the reasons why I work.”
Spike offered her a tight smile and exhaled through his snout. “That’s great. You should really try and relax. You and the others have been through so much together. You’ll be okay.”
“Something seems different this time,” said Twilight distantly. “The Princess is kind of distracted. Maybe I’m just paranoid.”
“You figure that from your visit?”
Twilight nodded. “Yes. I’m about to go back up there tomorrow and I still don’t know what to think about all this. That was a strange visit.” She clicked her tongue and spoke again, more deliberately, “That was a strange day.”
Spike didn’t appear to have anything to say in response. He bid Twilight good night and went upstairs. She listened closely to the sound of Spike’s shuffling movements from upstairs until the lights went off and the library went quiet.
Left alone, Twilight lay down on her couch, the wood creaking softly beneath her. Only a year ago, she would have been delighted that the Princess would trust her with so much responsibility, and yet…
Perhaps it was Celestia’s cool and distant language, or Luna’s obvious unease, but one way or another, Twilight hadn’t been able to make heads or tails of what was happening in Canterlot, and she wasn’t looking forward to returning. This new threat, this so-called Red Dust, had the Princess concealing her hoof, and a thought occurred to Twilight—was this the first time she had been left in the dark?
Twilight looked out the window at a far off light from someone’s house that echoed unnaturally in the glass. She wasn’t scared of what was to come. This feeling was too vast to be called fear—a cavernous vertigo that lay not just within her heart but exerted a cold pressure on her from above like the world had suddenly become too huge for her to comprehend.
*****
It had been some time since Celestia had retired to her private bedchamber when her sister knocked on the door, though Celestia had not drawn her curtains and still lay alert atop her satin bedsheets, seemingly lost in thought. From her perch, Philomena burbled at the sudden sound. Distantly, Celestia called Luna in and turned slowly.
“I hope I did not disturb you, sister.”
“No, it’s quite alright.” Celestia smiled coolly. “Feel free to take a seat.”
Luna returned the smile but did not sit down. Her wings fluttered as she took a step closer to Celestia.
“I come to you because I am troubled,” said Luna. “Troubled indeed, and confused. We have seen an attack on an Equestrian settlement, the scale of which is unprecedented for almost a century, yet you conceal your thoughts from me.”
“I should have expected this. You were never one to hold back.” Celestia stood up and breathed out evenly. “You know the pony responsible for this, right?”
Luna nodded curtly. “Yes. Her.”
“You can say her name.”
“Very well. Red Dust. Red Dust is responsible.” Luna glanced out the window suspiciously.
“Come on, Luna,” said Celestia. “The name we knew her by. I haven’t heard it spoken these past two millennia. It’s not like she’ll hear us.”
“If tho–you insist, I shall say it. Dusty.” Luna’s voice was stern and clipped but a serene smile was still drawn across Celestia’s face as the name was spoken.
“Do you remember picnicking in Jeremare Park with her and Mama?” she said. “Platinum too, when she had time.”
“We suppose so,” said Luna stiffly, “when we have occasion to reminisce, at least. This would be a poor moment for such an indulgence.”
Celestia tsked lightly.
“I am troubled, sister,” repeated Luna. “I hear now of great mists blinding ponies—fire and thunder raining down from the sky. Red Dust could never cast such magic. You have spoken to your little committee and to Twilight Sparkle. What do they know that I do not?”
“The don’t know anything more than you or I do,” said Celestia. “Don’t worry yourself, please.”
Luna shifted about indignantly and Celestia sat back down on her bed. The lights of Canterlot winked and sparkled in silent communication with the stars. Staring wistfully at the dazzling sky, Celestia spoke quietly.
“Sometimes I still say the Prayer before I sleep, I remember how we once said it every night. Do you still say it?”
“Lord of Stars
So hard and bright
On the plains of heaven
Redeem our suffering
By your everlasting mercy
There is no well so dark
That your blessing cannot reach us
Let the wheel be opened, now and forever.”
It was the Prayer for Deliverance, the central prayer of the old unicorn faith. It was among the few practices of the Astral Path that remained relatively widespread in contemporary Equestria, and was known to a fair proportion of unicorns in its modern iteration. The first popular version was published in the 17th century when the sacred text of the Path, the Oneirum, was made available to the public in translation. But Celestia did not speak these familiar words; she would only recite such a prayer in Old Equestrian. The obscure sounds filled the room, and the solemn lilt of Celestia’s voice rung with an old longing. Luna inclined her head forward and averted her eyes. There was a long moment of quiet.
“No,” said Luna. “I have not said it for centuries.”
Celestia lay her head down on a pillow and let out a breathy sigh. She didn’t reply, and looked at Luna with expectant eyes. For a long moment, the space between the sisters was disturbed only by the gentle rustling of sheets and the clock’s steady, ticking progress through the hours of night.
“We are not unused to being excluded from your private business,” said Luna, “but this exclusion shall not be tolerated. We must demand a response regarding Red Dust.”
“I’m going to stop her,” said Celestia simply. “I’m going to stop Dusty once and for all. I’ll make that promise to you right now.”
“How? How will you stop her? What have you been devising up here alone?”
Celestia looked Luna in the eye with impassive certainty. “Nothing. I have no definite plans.”
After a moment’s pause, Luna broke eye contact and scowled. “Very well. We shall occupy no more of your time. Expect us to resume this line of questioning shortly.” She moved to leave.
“I’m sorry,” said Celestia. “There’s truly not much to tell. Please trust me.”
Luna only harumphed in response as the door closed behind her. Celestia’s frown deepened. She turned to lie on her side and drew the curtains.
“Oh, Dusty, what are you doing?” she murmured. “Do hurry back, Twilight.”
The clock ticked and Celestia focused on the hypnotic sound. Her eyes closed, reopened. She stared at the pale reflection of light in her mirror and thought about tomorrow.
