As the Sun Princess's rock-hard face gazed down upon her, it dawned on Summer Solace that she had never been further from home. Mom must have realized she was missing, by now.
Summer Solace swallowed. The spires of Elysium were little more than a distant, hazy smear. The floating megalopolis of cloud and crystal and magic had been her entire world, but it was long past time she left the alicorn city. If she succeeded here, today, then she would never go back.
Summer Solace bowed low. Her pearly mane brushed the dirt. Around her powder blue legs, the rocky wasteland stretched away. The guards had brought her here from the border, once she found them. Now they stood beside her, resplendent in their golden armor. They were the first mortal adults she had ever seen.
“Why are you here?” Celestia’s tone was hard but not quite harsh. The princess had refused to let Summer Solace near Equestria’s few remaining cities.
She steeled herself. “My name is Summer Solace. I want to come to Equestria.”
Celestia’s face didn’t change. “You know the law. Once you leave Equestria, you don’t return.”
“But I didn’t! Leave, that is. I was born in Elysium.”
Celestia inclined her head slightly, but that was all. Summer Solace faltered. A listless breeze failed to ruffle her mane. She swallowed, then plowed ahead.
“I, I know why you made that law. And I agree with it! When ponies leave Equestria to become alicorns for their own selfish reasons, they give up their right to live in the real world. They’ve turned away from Equestria, and they shouldn’t be allowed back. But Princess, I never turned away! I never chose what I am.”
The barest frown crossed Celestia’s face. “I remember my own transformation. You cannot become an alicorn unwillingly. The spell only works if the subject cooperates.”
Summer Solace sputtered. “I was a child! I wasn’t even thirty years old when it happened. I just did what my mom told me!”
“But now you want to leave her.”
Summer Solace nodded firmly. “She’s not running my life anymore.”
Celestia leaned back a fraction of an inch. “Are you sure of that?”
Summer Solace’s voice hardened. “I’m almost fifty, now, and it’s time to start making my own choices. And Elysium is terrible, Princess! Everything is so, so stagnant. Nothing changes, and there’s nothing important for us young ponies to do. It’s like you wrote.” She had found the book in her mom’s library, ten short months ago, and it explained everything. For Summer Solace’s whole life, the world had seemed stale and meaningless, and finally she understood why. “Please, Princess. I want to live in the real world.”
Celestia stared into her. Summer Solace fidgeted. The princess was almost two thousand years old, she had read, and all the wisdom of those centuries was now focused like a sunbeam through a magnifying glass.
Finally Celestia spoke. “I cannot undo what was done to you.”
“I know. But I want to have children someday. They deserve a chance to live in Equestria.”
Celestia nodded slowly. “True enough.” She sighed. “We’ll figure out what to do with you. For now, I’ll ask Cadence to watch over you.”
Celestia dreamed, that night.
She soared above the empty farms and cities that had once been Equestria. The streets were deserted, the buildings crumbling, and the fields overgrown. Canterlot bustled at the center of her domain, but it was a desperate clamor, an insecure cry for attention. All around, abandoned land fell into the distance until it came up against a vertical wall of shimmering cloudstuff. The alicorn cities blurred into a single mass, surrounding her domain, pressing closer, closer.
“Princess.” She hadn't heard that voice in centuries. Twilight Sparkle was flying with her, now. For a moment, they soared side by side, as they had long before. Then Twilight spoke, and the moment was gone. “I want my pony back,” she said, and Celestia remembered everything.
“No,” said Celestia. “You have taken too many ponies from me already.”
“You think you can keep her?” Twilight was incredulous. “You know they’ll all come to me eventually. And what would you do if I just walked into Equestria and took her back?”
“I would stop you.” Celestia’s horn pulsed with power. She stood on a rocky crag, a place she had visited in countless dreams, but only once in the waking world. The moon hung overhead, as it always did, here. “You will not threaten my ponies. I’ll do whatever it takes. Even to you.”
Twilight Sparkle advanced. She wore a breastplate and helm of blue steel, the color of the gloaming sky. “It nearly destroyed you the first time. You won’t do it again.”
The tableau froze. Celestia glanced around, confused.
“Um, hi,” came Twilight Sparkle’s voice, echoing from all around. “Sorry, I don’t really know how to do this.” She faded into being beside her frozen double. There was a firmness to the new Twilight Sparkle, a sense of reality otherwise absent from the dreamworld.
Celestia stepped backwards. Only Luna had ever appeared to her like that before. “You’re dreamwalking. You’re dreamwalking and you’re inside my head.”
The real Twilight nodded. “I need to talk to you, and you don’t want me in your physical realm, so—hold on.” She stared at her image, clad in the Nightmare’s armor. “What, really? You think I’m jealous of you?”
Anger drowned out shame. “I won’t answer for my own dreams. You have no right.” Celestia pounded a hoof on the lectern. They were in the old classroom, now, where Celestia had once instructed her faithful student. The room had been torn down in centuries past, but her memory of it was unchanged. “How are you even here? Dreamwalking is Luna's special talent.”
“I've been studying alicorn magic for hundreds of years.” Twilight pointed to a poster on the wall, a detailed graph of the relationships among thaumic fields of study. “Dream magic is one of many subjects.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised. You always were talented.” She looked around the classroom. A shard of dragon egg, construction paper covered in hoof-shaped gobs of paint and glitter, a forty-page treatment of Star Swirl’s Meditations, a stack of letters. She let out a breath. “Why did you come, Twilight? Is this about Summer Solace?”
Twilight visibly relaxed. “So she is with you.”
Celestia blinked. “You didn’t know?”
“Of course not. She never tells me anything.”
“I see.” Celestia fought down a laugh, or perhaps a sob. “Your child, then.”
Twilight nodded. “My youngest. She’s always been… well. I'm not surprised, really. I'm sorry to disturb you. I just... I had to know where she was.”
“Now you know what I felt like when you left.” Celestia regretted the words even before they escaped her lips.
Twilight’s face hardened. “Take care of her,” she said, and was gone.
“Of course,” Celestia said. “I take care of all my ponies.” But there was no one to hear.
Summer Solace tore through the skies above Canterlot, reveling in the wind driving against her face as she twisted between the clouds, gathering the most promising into a single dark gray mass. She turned to face Cadence, who hovered above. She had held onto her questions at first, but now they were alone. “You used to know my mom. What was she like, then?”
“That was a long time ago,” said Cadence. “She had a good heart. Misguided, in the end, but she was kind to me when I needed it most.”
“Your thing on the moon?”
“Yes.” Cadence hesitated. “I’m not proud of that. It was… not a good way to solve my problem. Your mom helped me see how much I was leaving behind. Even diminished, Equestria is a special place.”
Summer Solace nodded. “It’s so different, here.”
“I’m surprised you’re the first Elysian who wanted to come here.”
“I’m the first who was able to come here. The frontier wards are supposed to keep us out of Equestria, but my mom built them herself, and she showed me how they work when I was learning magic. I managed to sneak through.”
“I’m glad you did.”
Summer Solace didn’t know what to say to that. She started to turn away, but Cadence’s voice brought her back. “You’re having fun up here.”
“I know!” said Summer Solace. “It’s weird! I always hated being a weather pony, before.” She had played with clouds, of course, but this was different. Her wings surged with an urgency she had never known. She felt alive. “Doing actual work, being actually useful, it’s...” She turned and soared back to the clouds. “I never got to do this before.”
“What, never?” Cadence said as she followed.
“No! Back home, other ponies are already doing all the stuff like this. There isn’t anything left. I’m really grateful you’re letting me do this. I know that seneschal guy didn’t think we should be here.”
Cadence shrugged. “Fee Simple is always like that. Don’t worry about him.”
“Oh, and I was wondering. What’s with those funny binoculars he was wearing?”
“You mean his glasses?” said Cadence. “His eyes don’t work very well. Those lenses correct the light coming in so he can see better.”
“Huh. Are the healers busy or something?”
“These things happen when ponies get old. Our doctors can’t fix all of it, unfortunately.”
Summer Solace stopped abruptly and hovered in place, transfixed by the sheer absurdity. “Wait. You mean his eyes just don’t work and nopony’s doing anything?”
“I’m afraid so. Unicorn magic isn’t nearly as powerful as alicorn magic.”
“But you’re an alicorn!”
“There are only three of us to run all of ponydom. I wish we had time to help every individual, but we have too many other responsibilities.”
Summer Solace straightened. “I don’t have other responsibilities.”
“True.” Cadence smiled. “I’ll ask Celestia about—”
Summer Solace didn’t wait for Cadence to finish. She dove, banking towards the palace, with Cadence close behind. The wind tugged at her mane as she picked up speed.
They were still far above Canterlot when it started. All along one of Elysium’s distant cloud spires, pinpoints of eldritch light winked in and out. Both of them slowed to watch. If the spells were visible from this far off, they would have to be astoundingly powerful.
“What’s happening?” Summer Solace stamped at the air. She had never seen anything like this. “That’s the Noctilucent District. What are they doing?”
Cadence peered closely. “It looks like they’re fighting,” she said softly.
“I don’t understand. Who’s fighting? Why would anypony want to fight?” Summer Solace beat her wings and rose higher. “That’s where Mom lives. I have to go back.”
Cadence kept pace. “Don’t! You know you can’t do that. The law—”
A searing crimson light ripped apart the sky. When Summer Solace blinked her vision back, half a minute later, the entire district was gone. House-sized chunks of debris rained earthward in apparent slow motion. Summer Solace let out a wordless cry. The flickers of distant magic slowed, and slowed again, and finally stopped.
The embassy came into being around Celestia. As the teleport finished, she found herself in a room tiled with queer crystals and a strange, glossy material unlike anything she had seen before. Everything was bright, but there were no light sources and no shadows. Most disconcerting of all, the chamber was at least twice as wide as the building that contained it. It had been eighty years since Celestia had last been here, the one place in Canterlot where she permitted Twilight’s renegades to return and see the families they had abandoned.
In the hundreds of years since Elysium’s founding, Twilight herself had never once visited. Her dream notwithstanding, Celestia had not spoken to her directly. After yesterday’s cataclysm, though, Celestia had demanded to speak to her counterpart right away. She was afraid. Something had obliterated a structure the size of a small mountain, and she still didn’t know what.
She didn't have to wait long. Soon enough, Twilight blinked into existence without so much as a flash of wasted energy.
“Your wing!” Celestia froze, torn between drawing back in shock and rushing forward in sympathy.
“What, this?” Twilight glanced at the bandaged, blackened stump. Her whole side was charred, but the wing itself was simply gone. “It's nothing.” She straightened and faced Celestia. “Breezy Balm will regenerate it later today, once she's finished treating the serious injuries.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing that affects Equestria, Princess.” Twilight Sparkle's voice was tonelessly formal, now. “Summer Solace's father has been a problem for some time. When he learned where our daughter was, he wanted to bring her back by force. I insisted otherwise, and he wouldn’t back down. You saw our battle, I’m sure. He's a powerful mage with many followers, but I won, and he's under control now.”
Celestia frowned, matching formality with formality. “Under control?” Such foes had a way of coming back, she had learned.
“He's in the Cloister. He’ll stay there under guard until he gets the help he needs.”
“And these guards are strong enough to stop him?”
Twilight shrugged. “Probably. If I'm wrong, and he gets loose, I'll just stop him again.”
Celestia stared. She gestured at the space where Twilight’s wing should have been. “He tried to kill you.”
Twilight was silent for a moment. “You really don’t understand,” she said, almost to herself.
“I really don’t! Twilight Sparkle, this pony tried to invade Equestria and abduct a pony under my protection. I’m not sure if you’re taking this seriously.”
“With respect, Princess, you're not in a position to evaluate our justice system.”
“How you conduct justice is your business, but I’m worried about security. This pony is a threat to Equestria. I have a right to know how you’ll keep that from happening again.”
“Fine. We can go now, if you’d like.”
“Tomorrow. I’ll need to make arrangements with my sister.” And possibly other plans. This would be her first visit to Elysium. It was a unique opportunity.
Twilight nodded. “Tomorrow, then.”
Rarity was waiting when Twilight returned. The sun was low in the sky, infusing the ectoplasmic walls of Rarity’s chambers with a strawberry glow. Twilight’s body had been healed, she saw, and her wing regrown as healthy as ever, but her friend was so tired she was swaying on her hooves.
“Oh, my stars, you’re exhausted.” Rarity bustled forward, draping a wing over Twilight and guiding her inside. “Do lie down, and I’ll fetch you something to drink.”
“Thanks.” Twilight collapsed belly-first onto Rarity’s chaise longue. “Ugh. I really appreciate you letting me stay here, you know.”
“Think nothing of it.” Twilight was far from the only pony who had lost her home in the Noctilucent District’s destruction. It was exasperating for everypony involved, of course, but Twilight needed the extra stress least of all. “How bad is it out there?”
“It’s going as well as it can, I guess.” Twilight yawned and rested her chin on crossed forehooves. “Everyone’s been healed, except for a few bruises we’re not worried about. Cleanup is just about finished. Keystone thinks it will take a couple months to rebuild everything to the point where ponies can move back in. All of Blaze’s followers are in custody. Everything’s going smoothly, except for this thing with Celestia.”
“Ah. The rumors are true, then.” Rarity fetched her favorite goblet, a wispy thing of orichalcum and emerald, and conjured a powerful sherry within. “This can’t be easy for you.”
“Well, it’s weird. I mean, yeah, I was pretty obsessed with her for a couple hundred years, but I thought I’d moved past that. Seeing her again, though… I don’t know. She was like a mother to me, once.” She accepted the goblet from Rarity and took a deep draught. “Whatever. She’s not running my life anymore.”
“How will you handle it?”
“I don’t even know. I guess I have to deal with her, but I really don’t want to. It reminds me of all sorts of things I’d rather not dwell on.” Twilight rubbed her temple. “I’ll just have to be pleasant to her anyway. Diplomacy, and all that.” She yawned. “Anyway. Can we talk about something else? How’s your work with the griffons?”
“Slow. Their spirits are so different from ours.” Rarity looked out the window, focusing on nothing in particular. “We have to learn so much more before we can even think about transforming them.”
“Well, you made immortality work for the buffalo and the llamas and the donkeys. I’m sure you’ll figure out griffons, too.”
“Eventually, yes, I don’t doubt it. But every year we spend working, more of them die.” Unlike most Elysians, Rarity had friends among the mortals. The border with Equestria was sealed, but other nations welcomed alicorns and the hope of immortality.
“You’re doing everything you can,” said Twilight.
“I know. And I’m grateful I’ve had the opportunity to do so much.” Rarity cleared her throat. “Was there any news of your daughter?”
“Nothing new.” Twilight spoke through clenched teeth. “She left because she wanted to make her own path. I’m trying to respect that.”
“You must worry, though.”
Twilight made a sound that was probably meant to be a laugh. “Of course.”
Twilight Sparkle led the way into the Cloister, with Celestia close behind. The structure was the size of a small mountain, larger than the entirety of Ponyville had been at its height, and this grand doorway was only one of many, many entrances. The building had long since ceased to intimidate Twilight, and the architecture wasn’t why she was nervous, just now. She glanced at Celestia, trying and failing to read her face.
Twilight crossed the threshold. A familiar wave of magic washed over her. Celestia shivered at its touch. “Is that an anti-teleport ward I feel?”
“Yes,” said Twilight, “along with some other counterspells and a generalized magic-damping field. It affects everyone except the guards, who are attuned to the spells. They monitor the whole place with clairvoyance spells, too. This is the best-protected building in the world. Some of the ponies in here are dangerous.”
They passed a quartet of alicorns wearing armor forged of scrith, the seemingly indestructible metal that was just coming out of the labs. Soon they would be making enough to use it in construction.
The guards cast dark looks at Celestia as they passed into a marble hallway. Celestia spoke once they were out of earshot. “What was that about?”
“Rumors travel fast, I guess. Ponies know you’re here. Uh, you’re not very popular.”
“I suppose that’s not surprising.”
Was Celestia’s voice accusing? She couldn’t tell. The stories weren’t Twilight’s fault, though, and Celestia had to realize—no. Celestia could think whatever she wanted. Twilight was done chasing after her approval. She was here to reassure a visiting diplomat about the security of a criminal’s confinement. Nothing more.
Two more guards passed down a side corridor. “This place is like a fortress,” said Celestia. “You made it sound more like a hospital.”
“It’s both. The ponies who are sent here need to get better so they can rejoin society, but we also need to keep them in the Cloister until they’re ready. Most cooperate, but, uh, a few don’t. We have to be careful.”
Twilight led Celestia to a grand staircase of softly glowing marble, inlaid with frescoes of stars and flowers. They went down, and down, and down, passing countless landings with openings to wood-paneled hallways.
“This place is enormous,” said Celestia. “How many of your ponies do you keep here?”
Twilight shrugged. “Pretty much everyone winds up here eventually. Living forever is hard.”
“And yet you’re still trying to spread this to the whole world?”
“The ponies here get better,” said Twilight. “Sooner or later, I imagine every one of us will crack—but eventually, we’ll all heal, too. No one has ever been here for more than a hundred and fifty years at a stretch.”
Celestia missed a step. “A hundred and… that seems like a terrible fate.”
“It’s better than death! A hundred and fifty years isn’t enough to recover from that.” Twilight paused until her voice was level again. “I’ve looked at the numbers. The average pony spends a bit less than three percent of her life in here. It’s not great, but I’ll take that over dying any day. We’re getting better at treatment, too.” Twilight ducked into a hallway, leaving behind the staircase as it continued downward as far as the eye could see. They passed door after door of translucent blue crystal.
“I’d like to see some of the ponies here,” said Celestia.
“Why?” Twilight said sharply. Stars, but making this trip even longer was the last thing she wanted.
“I need to know what they’re like. If your ponies go mad, one might do something dangerous, someday.”
“That happens occasionally, and we can deal with it. Rarity succumbed to the Nightmare three times, you know. She tried to take over the world each time, but she was surrounded by alicorns. You can guess how long that lasted before we brought her here.”
Celestia blinked. “One of your friends ended up here? I hope she’s okay.”
“She’s been perfectly fine for the last couple centuries.”
“Hm. I’d still like to see for myself.” Celestia stopped before one of the crystal doors. “One moment.” She fell into what Twilight recognized as a spellcasting trance. “Ponyfeathers, but the wards here are strong.”
“Um. What are you doing?” Normally Twilight would have been able to tell the spell from its aura, but the antimagic wards suppressing Celestia’s spell dulled Twilight’s mystical senses as well.
“Clairvoyance,” Celestia said through clenched teeth. “Just need to see through that door and—”
The door burst open. Celestia stumbled back, half a heartbeat before it would have struck her muzzle. A silvery alicorn burst forth, clipping Celestia and cantering down the hallway without slowing. “Whoa!” he shouted. “Coming through!”
Twilight didn’t quite manage to keep a straight face. “You could’ve just knocked, you know. It’s not locked.”
“So I see.” Celestia regained her balance and looked after the retreating pony. “Should we be stopping him?”
“No need,” said Twilight. “Patients aren’t confined to their rooms unless there’s a really good reason. Quicksilver might be, ah, exuberant, but he’s a long way from dangerous. He won’t go anywhere he shouldn’t, and the guards would stop him if he tried.”
“How many of the ponies here are like that?”
“Most of them. You’re here for one of the other type, though. Come on, let’s get this over with.”
Further down the hall, Twilight opened another door. Beyond, three armored guards looked up at them. “We’re here to see Blaze,” Twilight said.
A guard thrust a wingtip towards Celestia. “Doctor Willow said that one can go in,” she said, frowning. “He didn’t approve a visit from you, Miss Sparkle. I’m sorry. The patient is still considered a threat, and regulations are clear.”
“I know all about the regulations,” Twilight said evenly. “I wrote them. Did Doctor Willow mention me?”
“Ah, he said something about you two not getting along. Really, I have to ask you to leave.”
Twilight stepped closer. “Did he say I wasn’t allowed in?”
The guard blinked. “You specifically? No, but the regulations—”
“Right.” Twilight strode forward.
“Whoa, hey!” The guard blocked her path. “You can’t do that!”
Twilight fixed her with a level stare. “I would never go against the doctor’s judgment, but you’re just blindly applying rules that I crafted myself. If anypony knows when they should be followed and when they shouldn’t, it’s me. Please stand aside.”
The guard swallowed and stood aside.
“Listen to me,” said Cadence. “You have to slow down.”
“One more.” Summer Solace’s vision blurred, and the base of her horn throbbed with pain, but she only threw more power into the spell.
The pony before her slept through Cadence’s admonition. Apparently he hadn’t been able to hear anything for years. Next to that horror, a little fatigue didn’t even count.
She had already fixed his hips, which had been horribly swollen, and his lungs, which were weak as a child’s. In the room before this one, she had cured a pony with a failing liver. She remembered his face, wrenched in agony, before she started her spell. Before that, a pony whose limbs wouldn’t stop trembling. Before that… she couldn’t remember which. There were so many. Cadence had helped, at first, but now all she did was argue.
The spell clicked together, and power flowed out of her. Summer Solace staggered. The patient slept on.
“It’s done,” said Cadence. “He’s better. Now get some rest. Please.”
“Not yet.” She shambled into the hallway. There was so much more to do. Back home, she had read about sickness, but somehow she had just… she had never realized… she hadn’t let herself realize what it actually meant. Death was one thing, but all this suffering was beyond the pale. Nothing like it existed back home. It wasn’t allowed to exist.
“Just take a break,” said Cadence, close behind. “You’re too exhausted to help anyone.”
Summer Solace trudged into the next room. “One more.”
Even sitting down, Celestia thought, Blaze was an imposing pony. He was broad and well-muscled under his scarlet coat and vibrant blue mane, with a golden fireball on his flanks and a broad white streak running from eyes to snout. His chambers were richly appointed with plush cushions and soft divans, but he sat still on the bare mahogany floor. Twilight had hardly finished introducing them before he spoke.
“How is my daughter?” His voice was soft, but somehow it sounded like a threat in Celestia’s ears.
Celestia raised an eyebrow. “She just saw her home destroyed.”
“The clouds will be rebuilt. How is she?”
“Celestia didn’t come here to talk about Summer Solace,” said Twilight Sparkle.
Only his head turned to face her. “She is your daughter too.” He spoke quietly, forcing Celestia to listen closely just to hear.
“She left for a reason,” Twilight Sparkle said carefully. “She wants some space from us. I’m trying to respect that.”
“She wants to have a mortal child. Do you respect that, as well?”
Twilight shook her head. “I told her I would never let that happen in Elysium. If she cares enough to leave… well, it’s her decision.”
“She is too young to make that decision.”
That was too much. “She’s forty-eight years old,” said Celestia.
Blaze turned his gaze back to her. It was like staring into a spotlight. “You have met her,” he said. “Does she act like an adult?”
“No,” said Celestia. “She acts like a teenager, and it’s past time she grew up. The way you’ve held her back is unforgivable.”
“Is it?” said Twilight. “I mean, it’s not like she’s in a hurry. We let ponies grow up at their own pace. Some take a long time, and some are full members of society by the time they’re fifteen.”
“Not full members.” Blaze’s mouth twisted into something that could be mistaken for a smile. “Even I am not old enough for that, in your eyes. All the useful jobs, the important jobs, the powerful jobs—your coterie has those under hoof and horn, and they’re not giving them up.”
Twilight rolled her eyes. “This again. Ignore him, Princess. Our system is a pure meritocracy. Older ponies tend to rise because they have more experience, but it’s not absolute.”
Blaze smiled mirthlessly. “The youngest pony on your cabinet is four hundred years old.”
“You’re not even trying to be fair!” Twilight’s voice rose. “That’s a tiny sample size! It’s not representative of a larger trend! I could just as easily cite examples where—”
“Twilight,” said Celestia.
“I know, I know. But he always does this! He never—”
“Twilight,” she said again.
Twilight took a deep breath. “Doctor Willow was right. This was a bad idea.” She stood. “I’ll meet you outside, Princess,” she said as she slipped out.
“My daughter,” Blaze said the moment Twilight had gone. “How is she?”
“Twilight Sparkle tells me you would have invaded Equestria and taken her by force.”
“She is my daughter. If she needs me at her side, I will burn down whatever stands between us.” He leaned forward a fraction of an inch. “Now. Is she happy?”
Celestia found herself grateful that Twilight had stopped this pony before he reached Equestria. “Cadence tells me that she’s enjoying the opportunity to be helpful. Summer Solace seems to think there aren’t any meaningful ways to be useful in Elysium.”
“Not for a young pony. You saw how Twilight Sparkle reacted to the mere suggestion of sharing responsibility.”
Celestia nodded. “This would be why you don’t get along with her.”
“Yes. She was the best part of my life, once. But after half a century, it became impossible to ignore her politics. She and her coterie will stay in charge forever, if we let them. The oldest ponies are at the top in government, art, sports, research, everything.”
“That’s why you rebelled?”
“No. We’ve been arguing about that for decades without even considering violence.” His face darkened. “Then she tried to keep me from my daughter.”
“Well, Summer Solace is in Equestria now. She won’t have trouble finding opportunities to contribute, there.”
“Yes, I remember. I suppose simply killing all the old ponies is easier than figuring out how to share.”
Celestia raised an eyebrow. “This from the pony who just tried to murder Twilight Sparkle.”
Blaze threw back his head and let loose a great booming laugh, catching Celestia off guard after his quiet words. “Oh, dear. Murder? Most of the ponies who fought at my side don’t know what murder is. We were trying to overpower Twilight and her minions, and I’ll admit that part of me wanted to hurt her as well, but murder? Even when I lived in Equestria, I would never have thought of that. Before you accuse me, remember this: all of my political rivals are still alive. How many of yours have died, over the centuries?”
“You were Equestrian?” Celestia found it hard to believe that a pony like this had come from her domain.
“A long time ago. I know enough of your toy kingdom to compare it to this one. Your faithful student learned a lot from you.”
Celestia didn’t let herself react to Twilight’s old title. “Yes,” she said. “She learned every lesson except the most important one.”
Blaze leaned forward. “Why did you come here?”
“I make a point of learning about threats to Equestria.” She allowed a thin smile to cross her face. “Now that I’ve seen this prison, I know we don’t have much to fear from you.”
“Not from me, perhaps, but I am not the only one who objects to Twilight Sparkle’s reign, or yours. Tell me, Princess. How well do you know the ponies here? How far do you trust them?”
“So,” said Twilight Sparkle, “what did you think?”
Celestia followed Twilight up the Cloister’s marble stairs. “I think he’s dangerous and unbalanced, but this place seems secure enough to hold him.” She paused. “You married that pony?”
Twilight looked away. “He was different, then. Just as intense, but not bitter. And he was—”
An armored guard stepped from an alcove and blocked their way. “You’re Princess Celestia,” he said.
Celestia eyed him. “I am.”
His eyes were like fire. “Murderer.”
Twilight stepped forward. “Easy, there. This isn’t—”
He shoved past her. His breath was hot on Celestia’s face. “My brother is dead because of you,” he said, his voice cracking.
Celestia drew herself up. “Your brother made his own choice.”
He lunged, horn glowing, lips drawn back in a wordless snarl. Celestia started her own spell, but the prison’s wards slowed her magic even as the guard launched a lance of raw force. It smashed through her still-forming shield and struck her chest with the power of a rockslide. She didn’t feel herself hit the ground.
Celestia’s eyes snapped open. She could feel her breastbone shifting as it knit back together. It wasn’t painful, somehow, but it was among the strangest awakenings of her long, long life.
“Ah, you’re up,” said the pony at her bedside. “Hold still, please, we’re nearly done.”
Celestia held still and took stock of her surroundings. The healer was a lemon-colored alicorn with a voice like a warm spring day. Her horn shone the blue-white color of a flame’s heart as she worked her magic. Twilight Sparkle stood beyond, watching nervously.
Soon enough the spell was done. “How do you feel?” said the healer.
“Better,” said Celestia. “Thank you.” She looked to Twilight. “How long has it been?”
Twilight stepped forward. “Not long. Two, three hours.”
She nodded. That was good; her subjects wouldn’t be worrying for a while yet. “And the pony who attacked me?”
“He’s in custody. I’m sorry. I never expected one of our guards to snap like that. It seems he only immigrated nine years ago.”
“That blast would’ve killed a normal pony,” said Celestia.
“Um,” said the doctor. “There’s nothing normal about being able to die like that.”
Celestia turned to her. “You weren’t born in Equestria, I take it.”
“No, ma’am.”
Celestia leaned back in her bed. “I’d like to think for a little while. It’s been a difficult day.” She needed time to sort through everything that had happened.
“Of course,” said Twilight. The two ponies filed out of the room.
Celestia set her mind in motion. Her instincts told her she had just survived an assassination attempt. She would be fine, of course, but it suggested that Blaze was right and there were other threats to Equestria in this land. Then again, Blaze had also said concepts like death and killing were alien to these ponies, which would rule out any connection to a larger plot among the natives… but Blaze was hardly a trustworthy source. For that matter, his intimidating talk could have been a bluff, and the assassin merely a grieving madpony. She needed to learn more.
She could ask Twilight about this, but Twilight was no longer her student. She had grown into a ruler with her own responsibilities and her own ponies to watch over. She would tell Celestia whatever was best for Elysium, and while she probably wouldn’t lie, she would surely be careful about what she revealed. Celestia noted a flash of pride at the thought.
What other options did she have? She could ask for Summer Solace’s opinion. That pony was hopelessly naive, though, like Twilight before she first left Canterlot. If anything sinister were happening, Summer Solace would never realize.
She needed to learn the opinion of the Elysian public, and she couldn’t trust any of her intermediaries. With the problem phrased like that, the solution was obvious.
Celestia stood. Thanks to the healer, her body was good as new. With a quick shapechanging spell, she took the form of a soft pink alicorn with eyes and mane of bright orange. It wouldn’t mask her aura, but in a city with millions of alicorns, finding her that way would be like finding a needle in a stack of needles.
Another spell teleported her to the street where she had first arrived, a broad causeway formed of cloudstuff so smooth it could have been marble. On either side, buildings of diamond and steel thrust to the sky. Streets crossed the air above her, built of gems and raw energy and stranger things, shimmering in the setting sun.
“Let me guess.” A voice came from her side. “You just arrived from Equestria, and this is all overwhelming.”
Celestia tore her gaze downward. She had been staring. The speaker was a light green alicorn whose silver-blue mane and tail were tied in elaborate braids. “Is it that obvious?”
“The way you were gawking? Yeah, kinda. Don't worry about it. All this everything must be shocking, but everypony assimilates pretty quickly. Well, at least by our standards of 'quickly.' Anyway, a bunch of people here were immigrants at one point.”
Celestia nodded. That didn't surprise her. So many ponies left Equestria every year. That number was dwindling, but only because the population shrank so fast. “Are you from Equestria, too?”
“Nah. Born and raised Elysian. I'm Echo, by the way.”
“Call me Sunrise.” It wasn't a very good alias, but then, hers wasn't a very thorough disguise.
Echo beamed. “Welcome to the real world, Sunrise! Anything I can help you with?”
She thought. “I don't really know where to start. Right now I’m trying to get my bearings. I want to learn what’s important to ponies here.”
“Aha! Follow me, then. I was just headed to the Weather Gallery. It’s important to me, anyway.” Echo set off. Celestia followed, wondering if this would answer her real questions. It wasn’t what she’d intended, but this would at least be more helpful than gawking in the street like a tourist.
Echo brought her to a great silvery dome. They entered a short foyer, barely large enough for Echo to shut the doors behind them, plunging them into dimness for a brief moment before she threw open the portal ahead. The hall beyond was like nothing Celestia had seen in all her millennia.
What struck her first was the light. A hundred thousand crystal facets reflected ten thousand shades of red and orange and gold, casting beams of light through a thousand floating clouds before the fiery tapestry reached her eyes. The play of color on color was mesmerizing, subtle patterns and gradations that recalled a warm hearth on a chill night.
Celestia gaped, for once not bothering with the mask of unflappable calm she wore as Princess of Equestria.
The hall itself was larger by far than her royal audience chamber. The distant walls were made of cloud, glowing faintly with light diffused from the jeweled mosaics that studded their length. The ceiling, far above, was translucent under the setting sun. Small clouds floated in lazy swirls, some smaller than a pillow, some as large as a double bed. There was some pattern behind the clouds’ movement, some larger meaning that Celestia could almost grasp…
“Pretty good, huh?” said Echo.
Celestia spoke softly. This place demanded it. “What,” she said, “what is this?”
“It’s the Weather Gallery. About a hundred years after Elysium was founded, a some ponies decided to make the most beautiful thing in the world. Well, there are a bunch of projects like that, but this one was the first. And it’s the best. Anyway, ponies left the project and joined the project, but work never stopped. This here was centuries in the making, and it’s still not done.”
Not done? Celestia blinked. “Why would you want to change this?”
“Well, for one thing, it’s not stable yet.” Echo pointed with her wingtip. “See that cloud? It’s flying a bit low. Must be a little too dense. C’mon, I’ll go fix it.” She soared up and over, and Celestia followed. The cloud was just wide enough for them both to stand on it. Echo’s horn pulsed, and a thin trail of light flowed to the cloud.
Celestia turned, letting the panorama wash over her, trying to pin down the rhythm behind the shifting lights. “It must be special, knowing you’ve contributed to something like this.”
“Yeah. Yeah, it is. I do kinda wish I could do more of the creative work, though.”
“Creative work?”
“Oh, you know. The old ponies do all the fun stuff. Redesigning the mosaics, drawing up new diffraction patterns, stuff like that. Ponies like me just do the grunt work, and yeah, it’s worth doing, and yeah, that’s how we learn, but still.” She squinted, and her beam of magic grew tighter.
Celestia frowned. “So you’re stuck with the drudgery? How did that happen?”
“Nothing complicated. Some ponies have been doing this for hundreds of years, and they’re good at it, so they’re in charge. I mean, I’m not even eighty years old, but my mom’s been a weathersmith since before Elysium was Elysium. Which of us do you think is better at it?”
“You could start your own project.”
“I could. Some young ponies do.” Echo shook her head. “I want to work on the best project, though. That’s more important than who’s in charge.”
“That’s a noble attitude,” said Celestia, “although it does sound frustrating.”
A familiar voice came from above. “Having trouble?” Rainbow Dash descended slowly as she hovered. Celestia couldn’t tear her gaze from the horn on her forehead. The thing was uncanny.
“It’s fine, Mom.” Echo’s focus never left the cloud. “I just need to even out the dispersion a little.”
“Nah, that’s not the problem. Your ley lines are unbalanced, though. Messing with the dispersion will only tangle ‘em up worse.”
“What? I don’t—”
“You did a good job with the density, kiddo. I’ll take it from here. This is the delicate stuff.”
Echo scowled. “Fine, then.” She dove into the distance.
Rainbow Dash circled the cloud, examining it top and bottom. “New here?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Celestia. This was more like it. Rainbow Dash was surely one of this place’s leaders, and she wouldn’t be wary of a new arrival. “I just got here from Equestria today.”
“Today?” Rainbow Dash glanced her way before returning her attention to the cloud. She poked it with hoof and horn, making adjustments too fine for even Celestia to follow. “Well, congrats on getting out of there. It’s not a good place.”
Celestia chose her next words carefully. “I heard some ponies say we should go there and fix it.”
“Yeah. Ponies talk about that. I mean, I remember what it was like when ponies got old and died. And knowing there are still ponies out there going through that…” She took a shaky breath. “Well, yeah. I want to do something.” She raised her eyes to Celestia’s. “But we’re ponies, not dragons, and that’s not how we do things. We don’t get to tell the Equestrians what to do, even if they… well. You know.” She swallowed. “We give them the choice to come here, and a lot of them take it, but we can’t make their choice, yeah? So you’ll hear ponies talk, but it’s just talk.”
“What about Blaze, though?”
Rainbow Dash snorted. “Blaze just likes to stir up trouble. He’s always been jealous, plus a little crazy. Never thought he’d go as far as he did, though. Some time in the Cloister’ll do him good.”
That was that, then. If Rainbow Dash, of all ponies, was against taking action, then surely no one was in favor of it. “Thank you,” she said. “That was helpful.” She dove off the cloud, following Echo’s path.
She found her half hidden behind a low-flying cloud, watching Rainbow Dash finish her delicate work. “You see what I mean,” Echo said without looking away. “She does all the hard stuff, but it’s because she’s better, so I can’t even get mad.”
Celestia raised an eyebrow. “Can’t?”
“Yeah, okay. Shouldn’t.”
“I’m not sure I agree with that, either.”
Echo shrugged. “You know what I mean, though.”
“So what will you do?”
“I dunno. I mean, some ponies get sick of being stuck behind the old ponies, so they invent something new to be good at instead. Like with Etherball, when I was a kid.” She bit her lip. “But I like the weather gallery. I don’t want to leave it.”
Twilight Sparkle materialized beside them, wearing the look she always wore when she was determined not to let Celestia see how frantic she was. Echo barely reacted to her sudden appearance—until she recognized who had just appeared. She backed away, jaw hanging open.
Twilight advanced on Celestia. “There you are. I’ve been looking all over. Do you have any idea how hard it is to track a single alicorn’s aura in this city?”
Celestia blinked. “I thought it was impossible.”
“Yes, you think everything’s impossible if you can’t do it yourself. It must be inconvenient, watching us do all these impossible things. I bet I even spoiled one of your plans.” Twilight made the word into a curse.
“You’re upset.”
Twilight’s smile was brittle as old clay. “Upset? Why would I be upset? The most important diplomatic guest this nation has ever hosted was attacked, and then she disappeared from her hospital bed. But it turns out she’s fine! She’s sightseeing in the Weather Gallery! So clearly I have no reason to be upset after all!”
“Um,” said Echo. “Diplomatic guest? What?”
Celestia turned to her. “I’m afraid I haven’t been honest with you. Sunrise isn’t my real name, and this isn’t my real body.”
“I… I don’t understand.”
Celestia released the shapechanging spell. There was a moment of disorientation as her true form reasserted itself. She braced herself for the shock and hurt she would find in Echo’s eyes.
Echo’s stare showed only blankness. “Sorry,” she said. “Should I know you?”
“This is Princess Celestia,” said Twilight. “The ruler of Equestria.”
“Oh!” Echo’s eyes widened. “But you’re not—I mean—well, the stories can’t be true, then!”
Celestia raised an eyebrow. “Stories?”
Twilight stepped forward. “You don’t need to hear about that.”
“No,” Celestia said softly. “I think I do.”
Echo stood frozen, eyes darting between the two of them.
Twilight huffed. “Fine. Go ahead.”
Echo swallowed. “Um. They say that ponies in Equestria die because you tell them it’s the right thing. That you want ponies to die. I always wondered how horrible somepony would have to be, to want another pony dead. But, but I met you, and you’re not horrible! Maybe you lied about some things, but I can’t imagine you’d ever want me dead.”
It wasn’t as simple as Echo thought, of course—but now, looking into Echo’s eyes, Celestia couldn’t help but wish. To cast away her responsibilities to Equestria and embrace the easy path, to be the pony Echo thought she was, pure and unburdened by her choices… it was only a dream, but the dream was beautiful. She couldn’t find words.
“I think,” Twilight Sparkle said carefully, “that it’s time for you to go back to Equestria.”
“I’m not finished here,” said Celestia.
“No.” Twilight Sparkle didn’t raise her voice. She spoke with an iron calm that brooked no argument. “You told me to leave Equestria—to leave my home. And I did. I’ve been away so long, I barely remember the place. Now I’m telling you to leave, and you will. You owe me that much.”
Cadence was standing vigil beside Summer Solace’s sleeping form when the bedroom door cracked open. Celestia entered, treading softly. “How is she?”
“Tired,” Cadence whispered. “She collapsed in the middle of a healing spell. I had to carry her here.” She paused. “And she’s confused, and hurting. I don’t think she’s ever been near pain like she saw in the hospital.”
Celestia reached out a hoof, stopping just shy of Summer Solace’s mane. “How do you think she’ll take it?”
In answer, Cadence folded back the bedsheets. The sleeping pony didn’t stir as Cadence revealed her cutie mark: the silhouette of a shade tree, tall and straight, with wide sheltering boughs. Summer Solace had been so focused on her task, she hadn’t even noticed it appear.
“Good,” said Celestia. “That’s good.” Her eyes had a faraway look. “I saw some of her world. I think I understand her better, now.”
Cadence tenderly replaced the sheets. “What do you mean?”
“I saw the things she took for granted, there, that she probably expected to find here. Elysium was… not as bad as I feared. It has problems, certainly. Bad problems. But the ponies there seem content. I think most of the young ponies there don’t truly realize what they’re missing. They won’t let themselves realize. Admitting it would unravel too much of their identity, and in the meantime they’ve built a world that’s pleasant enough.”
“Not all of them.” Cadence nodded at Summer Solace. “She left behind everything she knew, just to get out.” She bit her lip. “And I’m glad she did. I only worry she’ll keep pushing herself like this until something breaks.”
“Of course she will.” Celestia’s smile was small, and firmer than steel. “She’s her mother’s daughter.”
