Myths and Birthrights: The Archive

Myths and Birthrights

By Tundara

Part Two: Tremors in the East

Chapter Twelve: Storms on the Horizon

"A spoonful of honey makes the medicine go down, yes, the medicine go down," Zubu hummed as he puttered around his hut, the notes so off tune that even Gilda was cringing and trying to cover her ears.

The shaman had been singing the same verse continually for the past day and a half. If Gilda hadn't still been so weak from her injuries she would have knocked Zubu upside the head before winging it towards the plains, Great White Apes or no Great White Apes. That she could barely shuffle around the hut, made the idea of trying to overpower the fast and crazy zebra preposterous.

        "Do you have to sing that song?"

        "You don't like Marey Trottins?" Zubu asked, an amused smirk making his yellow teeth glint in the firelight. Putting on an affectation of false hurt, he added, "I thought everyone from the western continent just loved Marey Trottins!"

        "Do I look like some lame pony that went to Manehattan stage plays?" Gilda grunted, turning away from Zubu.

        "No, no, no, you look like a cat-bird with a clipped wing, stuck here in the jungle with the Wise and Wonderful Zubu! Yes, that is what you look like indeed!"

        Grunting again, Gilda shuffled out of the hut and out into the streams of light filtering down through the jungle canopy. She never would have admitted it but she kind of liked the place. There was a coziness coupled with a sense of danger and excitement. A blend of the comfortable and the unknown. It didn't hurt that prey was plenty and the Zebra's garden was overflowing with tasty breadfruit, rhubarb, and sweet-root.

        Stretching out her aching legs and wings, Gilda felt a pinch in her side that was quickly becoming familiar. Grumbling to herself rubbing the sore muscles, she began to pace in a circle as she continued through the warm-up routines taught in Flight Camp.

        From the hut she heard Zubu continue to talk.

        "Silly cat-bird is going to get herself, or worse, both of us killed. Too young. Too angry. So much anger. Reminds my old heart and head of Zimi." Zubu paused as if he was listening to a response. Probably the kettle he'd hung over the fire-pit. Gilda rolled her eyes as the crazy zebra started talking again. "No, no, no, that is too much to ask, too much, Firestar! Did you not just hear me? 'Teach her' you say! Rescue the lost pony goddess you said too, and look at how that turned out. Those cat-birds would have made Zubu Soup if they knew the Compact did not protect me. Lucky I am, yes, lucky. Mend her bones, I will. Sew her flesh, yes. But teach her? No. Too much. Far, far too much."

        Silence flowed from the hut following the shaman's short rant, the only noise coming from the bugs and birds that filtered through the jungle. Gilda frowned at the beads serving as a door, wondering just what some lame, crippled zebra could teach her. Once she worked all the stiffness and aches out of her system with exercise and a full diet she'd be up in the air again, and then she'd be unstoppable.

        "Fine! Fine, Firestar, fine. I will teach her."

        Zubu's voice was defeated and constrained as it tumbled passed Gilda's ear. A couple moments later she heard his odd shuffle-hop gait before he stepped out of his hut. His good eye roamed over Gilda, making her feel like a chick again in front of the teachers at Flight Camp.

        Approaching his hammock, Zubu asked, "Tell me, cat-bird, what do you know of magic?"

        "'Magic'?" Gilda scoffed, inspecting the built up dirt beneath one of her talons. "Only unicorns use magic. Those prissy dorks in their manors and castles with their stupid parlour tricks. I never bothered with them. They were all so boring and lame."

         "Ancestors preserve me," Zubu muttered to himself, before adding as he turned away from the hammock, "Wrong! All races have magic. Zebra and Water-backs. Bird-Pony and Ground-Pony. Others too. All the Seven Races have magic. All of them. Unicorns just flashy with their spells and supposed mastery. Pah, they've lost so much because they only concern themselves with magic connected to their Marks. Great musicians and artists they may be, but true magic-users? No, slowly they vanish and soon they be no more."

         Zubu rolled his own head and snorted as he limped into his hut only to return a moment later with his staff.

         "You use magic to fly, cat-bird. Or did you think those pretty wings alone were responsible?"

         "Well, yeah, I heard all about that in Flight Camp." Gilda smirked, crossing her forelegs and drumming her talons.

         "Oh, good!" Zubu laughed. "Then why you say only Unicorn has magic?"

         "Well..."

         Before she could find an excuse, Zubu cut her off with a sweeping gesture. "No, Zubu really doesn't care for your reasons."

         In the dirt in front of Gilda, Zubu began to draw and etch symbols and equations, diagrams and pictures. She couldn't understand any of it. After a few seconds, her eyes began to glaze over as Zubu muttered to himself while he worked.

         Gilda flashed back to the classrooms of Flight Camp. She and Dash spent their time either skipping those lame and boring classes, or goofing off in the back rows. They were fliers and doers. Naturals in the sky that didn't need any of the stupid math and equations the teachers tried to teach.

         She couldn't believe that the insane old zebra was actually going to try to teach her magic. She didn't want to learn about magic. Spells and studying were for egg-heads and Gilda had no need for them.

         "Listen, you fixing me up and giving me a place to stay has been great and all, but I don't need some silly spells. What use would I have for being able to float light stuff in fuzzy pink auras when I have these bad-girls?" Gilda showed her claws and slid her wings open with a wide grin.

         She waited for Zubu to realise his error, but the old zebra just cocked a brow and frowned.

         "Oh, yes, your talons are sharp and you are fast, cat-bird," he waved his maimed leg in an airy motion.

         "Gilda," she responded in a flat tone, tired of not being called by her name.

         "Your name is Cat-bird until you are no-longer cat-bird, yes? Good." Zubu hardly paused before sitting back, a wide grin of his own on his face. Suspecting he was up to something, Gilda narrowed her eyes. "So, you think you no need magic."

         Gilda nodded, opening her beak for a retort, when Zubu rolled his staff down from his shoulder. A green glob of goo shot from its with a soft 'fwump' and fizzle. Like prey hearing a griffins' screech for the first--and last--time, Gilda only started to dodge when the glob caught her and sent her spinning backward into a tree. Blinking, she found her left wing and legs stuck to the tree and holding her just high enough that only the toes of her back-right paw could touch the ground.

         "Felb's Sticky Blob," Zubu laughed, falling backwards into the dust and dirt to roll around as he clutched his side. "Good for trapping mouthy know-it-all cat-birds, it is."

         Struggling against the substance sticking her to the tree, Gilda let out a sharp screech.

         "Let me down, or I'll—,"

         "You'll do nothing but sit and listen," Zubu snapped, his grin dropping into a vicious frown. "Magic flows through every living thing, through the ground and sky, through the seas and rivers, and from the stars, sun, and moon. Magic be everywhere!"

         With the butt of his staff, Zubu pointed at the first diagram he had drawn.

         "This be the runes for a simple counter to the Sticky Blob," Zubu stated, pausing at the flat glare Gilda fired back at him. "You can read it, yes? No? No, you can't." Grumbling to himself, Zubu returned to his hammock and rolled up into its swinging knotted cords. For almost a half hour he swung back and forth, muttering to himself as he observed Gilda grunt and curse against the spell. At last he pronounced, "First lesson is Cat-bird getting out of spell."

         "I've been trying," Gilda snarled back, heaving again until her entire body moaned in silent protest and she relented with a gasping wheeze.

         "You try with muscle. Use magic. Any decent apprentice could get out of that spell in ten seconds flat."

         Gilda reeled back as if she'd been slapped. She stared at the crazy zebra, her beak hanging open. Twisting her stare into a glare, she snarled at the zebra before turning to her wings. Gilda had known that magic was involved in flying, every youngling learned that lesson. It didn't help her to know how it would help her escape the spell.

         For an hour she strained, cursed, screamed, and issued threats. Zubu sat through them, relaxing in his hammock or drawing and writing in the dirt.

         "This going to be harder than even I thought," he muttered to a chipped tea pot sitting above the fire-pit in the hut.  To Gilda he shouted, "You do magic all wrong, cat-bird. It doesn't come from muscle, it comes from heart and head."

         Gilda was about to issue a particularly loathsome curse when she was struck on the head by the zebra's staff. Groaning and rubbing what was going to a lump, she growled, "What was that for?"

         "There needs to be a reason?" Zubu laughed, before pointing his good hoof up at Gilda. "Now, calm yourself, cat-bird. Steady your heart and your head. Picture two trees, their limbs interweaving like the legs of lovers. Do you see it?"

         With a large huff Gilda relented, deciding to play along. Perhaps if she did the crazy shaman would remove the spell. Closing her eyes, she grunted, "Yeah, I got it."

         "Good, now, holding onto the image feel the energy of your wings, the rump-thump-thump of your heart. Can you feel it?" When Gilda gave a slight nod, Zubu continued, "Now, take the two trees, and tear them apart while feeling that energy. Bend and pull it, as you bend and pull the trees."

         Feeling utterly ridiculous, Gilda did as she was told. She slowed her breath like she would just before a dive and felt the little tremors of energy that flowed through her wings, down her back, and to the tip of her tail. Above her the wind whispered through the tree, ruffling the emerald leaves and sending little ripples through the yellow lines of magic snaking and zigzagging through the bark. She pictured each feather, pictured how they felt as they swam and thrust through the air, the currents of power they touched to hold her aloft.

         With the image of the intertwined trees overlaying those flowing through her, Gilda pulled.

         She felt and heard a slight popping, like the cork of a bottle being opened, and tumbled to the ground. Panting a little, she flicked her free wing and tested her legs, the muscles and joints groaning.

         "Good, good! You may have some small talent after-all, Gilda," Zubu nodded, a lopsided, bemused grin on his face as he shuffled into his hut. "Now, let's have some dinner. Then we start Second Lesson."

         Gilda limped after Zubu, a little smile of pride at having bested his spell making her carry her head a little higher, and her heart beat a little faster.

* * *

Located deep within the heart of Canterlot's western district stood the city's Temple of Names, Notra-Dame de la Chanson, Our Lady of Song. The oldest building in the entire city, older than the university, older than the city, older than even Canterlot Castle built following the War of the Sun and Moon. Half the temple thrust out onto a natural ledge of the mountain while the remainder was sunk into the mountain itself using a combination of natural caverns and carved chambers. A terrace extended from the ledge, giving the city its distinctive look hanging over the Equis Valley.

        Across the broad face of the temple were etched one hundred and one carvings of ponies going about the daily life of Equestria at the time of the temple's construction. Most of the acts were simple, from washing clothes in tubs to tilling fields with simple hoes. Others showed acts of magical strength or courage by armoured knights.

        Three sets of doors led into the Grand Chapel, above the central door a tinted window let the light of the noon sun into the heart of the temple. Each pane of glass was stained wonderful blues, rich purples, or vibrant reds, showing the scenes of Hearth's Warming: from the Exodus of the Old Kingdoms, to the trials of the three tribes, the Earth Ponies and Unicorns in their ancient boats and the Pegasi dragging their ancestral city, to the banishment of the Windigos by the Three Apostle's of Fate at their first meeting, before being sent to spread the message of Harmony to the still fractured ponies.

        Illuminated in the light cast by the North Rosette, a statue of the Namegiver stood in the Grand Chapel, her wings holding the ceiling aloft. The entire roof was covered in painted frescos taken from the Book of Sol. It was here, in this singular sanctuary, where Celestia the Goddess took precedence over Celestia the Princess.

        Above the entry shone an image of Celestia as she looked during the war, her mane and tail raging infernos of flame licking the air and eyes burning embers of barely restrained vengeance. Coronal Edge at her side, cleaving through a nameless black mass of shadow as fire poured from her horn.

        To the Namegiver's right was Celestia as a maiden, her mane a fluffy candy pink as she played in green fields with several foals. Much of the scene couldn't be seen for the scaffolding reaching up towards it as skilled experts performed the necessary acts of maintaining the frescos.

        Behind the Namegiver was the founding of Canterlot, and Celestia as a protector. Sheltered beneath her wings were ponies, all reaching up towards the goddess. Through a break in painted clouds shone a beam of sunlight, the golden pillar pointing the way towards the Canterhorn, the mountain devoid of the city.

        The final frescos was dark. Midnight blues swirled around Celestia's white coat with a moon half hidden by the Mare-in-the-Moon. A tear clung to Celestia's cheek as she gazed up to the moon, a song clear upon her lips, as she mourned the war, and the loss of her sister.

        Beneath the frescos, standing halfway into alcoves along the walls, were statues of the Alicorns. Of the dozen alcoves, only four were occupied, the painted statues looking so lifelike visitors often commented to the priestesses how they expected them to start to walk around the temple. Twilight's statue was the newest, the paint still damp, while Celestia's had a time worn and weathered sheen to it. Along the western wall, under tall windows that displayed the setting sun, were Luna and Twilight's statues, with Celestia's and Cadence's opposite.

Small altars for private prayer stood before each statue, while candles lined the walls. During the day a few ponies would visit the shrines, most heading to Celestia's, though Twilight's was popular due to the novelty of her ascension. On Sundays the entire temple would fill with the faithful to sing Celestia's praises, the temple resonating with their song until the heavenly sound would flow out into the city and the valley below, for which Notra-Dame de la Chanson was given her name. The only other time the temple saw much use was during the Rite of Names.

        The Rite was the most sacred and honoured tradition among ponykind, practiced throughout both the Old World and Equestria. While most settlements and towns had at least a  shrine to the Namegiver, only the older or larger towns had a temple. It was to these temples that expectant mare’s would travel in pilgrimage.

        Even with its age and location, Canterlot's temple was most famous for the multitude of candles that would burn behind the main altar. There, the High Priestess would stand as she mixed the draughts that the expectant mothers would drink. The heady smell of incense in the air, the mares would commune with the Namegiver. All claimed to hear Her voice, though none agreed on what it sounded like. For some it was like she was standing beside them speaking as if the mare was an old friend, others claimed Her voice was like colour being carried by the wind, an impression as much as sound. The experience was always unique.

        Otherwise, the only ponies that spent any time in the temple were the priestesses and their acolytes.

  Upon joining the order, new acolytes took a vow of chastity and silence, not speaking again until taking their second vows and becoming full priestesses. Most of the priestesses spent their time away from the Grand Chapel, reading and studying the holy books; the Book of Sol, the Book of Selene, the Book of Love, or inking the new Book of Polaris. The priestesses found much of their time consumed by the final endeavour. In their hooves were copies of Twilight's friendship reports, among other correspondence the temple had managed to gather that the new alicorn had written. From them they correlated and created tales and parables that would guide the faithful for generations to come.

Or so was the priestesses’ hope.

Beyond the priestesses chambers sat the Reliquary. A great vault, secured with layer upon layer of protective wards and shielding magic, buried almost in the mountains heart. Inside the reliquary was housed some of the most precious artifacts. The cloak of Clover the Clever, the chalice of Smart Cookie, and sword of Pansy were each granted places of honour before all the other relics. Only the High Priestess had the key into the reliquary.

It was into the temple Tyr walked, her hoofsteps slow and tentative as she crossed the threshold. Back home such places held Power, much like Names. Tyr didn't know if it held true here, or if the temple's matron would even be able to sense her presence given her condition. Holding her breath, she took the last step as a single jump, scrunching her eyes closed in case the Namegiver came thundering down from wherever she was living.

When nothing happened, Tyr breathed out a long gasp of relief and trotted fully into the temple.

        For a society as impious and un-devout as Equestria, Tyr was impressed. The temple wasn't as grand nor as magnificent as the Citadel of Light, but nothing was — save Zeus' own home. And the Obsidian City of Tartarus, according to Athena. Tyr wished she had been old enough to join Athena and Demea when they ventured through the Gate and into the forsaken wastes of the underworld. Maybe if she'd been there the war could have been avoided.

        Looking around the Grand Chapel, Tyr's steps echoed on the well travelled marble floors. She paused in front of the shrines, and for a few minutes she pictured a statue of herself in one of the empty alcoves. 'Maybe someday soon,' she silently whispered.

        "You're early," stated a rich rolling voice from behind Tyr, making her jump into the air with a gasp.

        Spinning about, Tyr found herself only a feet yards away from a middle-aged mare in red-gold robes. Her coat had been dyed a snow-white and her mane a rusty red, the roots of both showing their natural pink and blue colours respectively.

        "W-what do you mean?" Tyr asked, pressing a hoof to her chest to help still her heart.

        "For the evening sermon," the priestess said, a playful smile tugging at her eyes beneath the hood of her robes. "You are here for the sermon, aren't you, little one?"

        "Why does everypony call me that?" Tyr asked herself before in a louder voice said, "No, I was just curious after my mother told me about the temple. I had to see it for myself."

        "Oh?" the priestess gave her head a little tilt, "Are you thinking of joining the sisterhood?"

        "No, but someday—," Tyr faltered as she almost said, 'I'll have a Priestesshood devoted to me.' Instead she muttered, "Someday, I believe that the Priestesshood will be escalated to their proper position within society."

        "Well, we are just glad that any pony is willing to hear the teachings of the Namegiver and her herd," the priestess said, giving an airy laugh. "I am the Revered Speaker for Notra-Dame de la Chanson, Blessed Harmony. What is your name?"

        "Tyr."

        "Tyr? An interesting name. Not Equestrian, I gather. It sounds more like it comes from the Old Kingdoms," Blessed said, half to herself and half to Tyr. "So, would you like a little tour of Natra-Dame de la Chanson?"

        Shrugging, Tyr said, "Sure, I'm curious about how the Goddesses are revered in this land."

        Choosing not to comment on Tyr's odd phrasing, or used to such statements, Blessed Harmony began to lead Tyr around the Grand Chapel. Her voice formed a soft sort of melody as she explained what the various frescos symbolised or the event displayed. As they neared the altar near the Grand Chapel's back, she began to tell Tyr about the Rite of Names.

        "'Rite of Names? What's that?" Tyr asked. She'd never heard of any such rite being performed in the Citadel of Light.

        A bright, whimsical smile touched Blessed Harmony's face as she began to speak on the subject of the Rite. Her voice was lithe, almost dancing, an extra little skip entering her step. "By consuming a special potion, a mother can touch the essence of the Namegiver and are granted a moment of her sight. It is in this way that they learn of their foal's Fate, and from Fate, her or his name."

        "That's not how I was named," Tyr muttered, her shoulders slumping. If she could have, she'd have drooped her wings until they touched the cold stone floor. "My mother just liked how my name sounded."

        "I suspected as much. Tyr is an odd name." Blessed Harmony gave Tyr a comforting smile.

        "Does it have to be just expecting mothers, or can anypony drink the potion and learn their name?" Tyr looked up, a little light of hope glimmering behind her azure eyes.

        "Oh, certainly. There have been ponies who lost themselves, either through magic or injury, who have partaken of the Rite to rediscover their destiny. Curiously, this does not always grant them the same name, but a new one, one tied to things yet to come." As she spoke, the Revered Speaker lead Tyr up to the altar. It was empty, just a simple monument of black marble with a gold trimmed white cloth hanging over its sides.

        "Can I take the Rite?"

        Hesitating, Blessed Harmony replied, "If you want to take the Rite, Tyr, you should ask your mother first. You're only a filly still."

        "Everypony keeps saying that, I'm sick of it!" Tyr stamped a hoof. "I'm not a foal! I can make my own decisions. Adults don't have to force them on me. They don't have to force me to be something I'm not just because they think it's better for me. Well, it isn't! They had no right to do that to me! None!" Tyr collapsed against the side of the altar, letting out a long sniff as tears dampened her cheeks. An irritated hoof wiped aside the unwanted reminders. In the past few months she'd cried more than she would in the rest of her life. It was wrong, though it felt good and right just letting everything out.

        Blessed Harmony settled down beside Tyr, the Revered Speaker lifting a cloth in her hoof and dabbing away the tears.

        "You feel very strongly about this," she stated, considering the filly. After several minutes she stood, the cloth vanishing into her red robes. Moving around to the back of the altar, she said, "Very well, if this is your desire."

        "It is," Tyr affirmed, lifting herself slowly, perplexed by the shift in the priestess' position.

        Onto the altar the Revered Speaker placed a simple wooden cup, one weathered and glossy from countless years of use. Into it the priestess placed several herbs, among them Tyr recognised henbane, belladonna, and coriander. Pulling out a pestle, the priestess ground the herbs together, her lips moving to a chant Tyr did not recognize. Taking a pinch of the resulting powder, she dropped it into a silver chalice along with a golden liquid. Swirling the contents, she then placed it before Tyr.

        No words were spoken between them. Hesitantly, Tyr took the chalice in her hooves and drank the potion in several greedy gulps. It was like ice and fire, sweet and bitter, scouring her tongue and soothing her throat at the same time. Tyr thought she could detect a trace of licorice and cinnamon. Putting the empty chalice down she looked up at the Revered Speaker expectantly.

        She continued to stand still watching Tyr with an almost bemused expression.

        "Nothing's happening," Tyr said after a minute of silence.

        The Revered Speaker did not respond. She didn't even blink, the strands of her mane hanging suspended in the air as if held up by invisible strings.

        "Well, this is a surprise," a light fluttering voice said behind Tyr, making the filly spin and drop into a fighting stance. "I wasn't expecting this meeting until this evening."

        Behind her the Grand Chapel had been replaced by an endless multicoloured sea. Flat and featureless, it stretched on forever, the sky a gentle greyish-white that gave off a soft light. Only a few steps away stood an alicorn, white hooves not making a ripple as she trotted towards Tyr. Presuming her to be the Namegiver, Tyr slowly relaxed and flicked her wings in eager anticipation.

        It took a few moments for her to process the action, and when she did Tyr gave an excited yelp as she craned her neck to look at her back and see her wings, her precious little wings.

        Remembering why she had taken the potion, Tyr turned her attention back to the approaching alicorn. This was just a dream or vision, Tyr reminded herself. Hopefully it would lead her towards regaining her real wings.

        "You're the Namegiver?" Tyr asked, though she felt the question silly. Who else would it have been? Zeus? Tyr gave a snort at the idea of the King of the Alicorns ever getting off his throne long enough to do anything other than seduce a mortal.

        "What were expecting, Angel Bunny?" The alicorn gave a slight, almost hollow chuckle, as she came to a stop just before Tyr. "My name is Faust, and I am the Watcher of Fate and the Mender of the Weave."

        "I'm Tyr." The statement felt beyond foolish, given who she was addressing.

        "Yes, you are," Faust responded, starting to circle around and inspect the filly. "I've been looking forward to meeting you ever since your Binding."

        "My what?"

        "Since my daughters and granddaughter took your wings and earth-sense."

        "Y-you know... Do you know when I—."

        Faust put a hoof to Tyr's lips to silence her. It felt like biting down into freshly baked bread, and left a taste like daisies and cream when Faust withdrew her hoof.

        “It doesn’t work that way. I don’t know events, but I can see them. Or rather important ones.” Faust began to move away, stopping after a few steps to look back, a brow arched as if to ask if Tyr was coming.

        Hesitating only a moment, Tyr quickly drew up beside the ancient alicorn. As they walked, Faust drew herself tall, wings partially extended to create a canopy over Tyr. It felt so much like home, and the walks Tyr had once taken with her sister. Other than the different mane, Tyr could almost imagine it was Athena at her side, and not a stranger.

        Then Faust began to sing, and the image of Athena was shattered.

        Her voice like the chorus of ringing crystal, Faust let a few wordless notes hang in the air before she broke into a mournful low song. Though Tyr could not understand the words, she could feel their meaning resonating through her, leaving her feeling empty and alone, as if she stood atop a cliff overlooking the sea, grey waters waiting below to swallow her, and all she needed to do was leap.

Mi anyáro aurië

Mallo lá hanyalúmë

Carilwë ilcala ve silmë

Ananta nauta ló vanda

É endalma mernë

Quildë falassër

Tana lá hanyaohta

        Faust’s voice, lifting high as the peak of the Canterhorn, hung in the air for several impossible moments, the goddess pausing at a patch in the endless ocean. Before her hooves was a thread of softly glowing gold, the light it gave seeming to brighten all the strands laying near or woven around its core. With the tender care one would use to pick up an injured butterfly, Faust lifted the thread from the water.

Nalláma lendë arta i palla

Istimalwë anessëlma

Ar lendëlwë

Tempëlma olavalerya pella

Umbar ná nwalca ananta feuyahranga

        From around the two alicorns, the water began to vibrate with a low hum, accenting and pulling Faust’s song into a slow, languid, looping descent. Following the gold thread, Faust lead Tyr away and into the past. Tyr could not explain how she knew this, only that it was true.

I quildë malafëalma

Ar ve antavenwë

Órëlwë na lanta

Ar er carlwë

Marto ná nwalca ananta feuyahranga

Yassë yestata tyaliëlwë inwë ranta

        They followed the thread for what felt like mere minutes and many centuries. The song pulled Tyr’s spirits further down the torn and frayed thread, its golden shimmer replaced by warped black strands. Tyr’s heart twisted looking at the change in the strand, though she couldn’t understand why.  At last stopping at a tangle, five golden threads mixing with dozen of the rainbow coloured lines. Only five threads continued from the tangle, the others simply ending. Three continued golden and pure, one was black as ebon and seemed to hiss and give off an aura of hate, the final strand was the one they had followed to the knot. The last notes of Faust’s song hung in the air before drifting away, the goddess laying down in the waters to stare at the knot.

        “What happened here?” Tyr asked, her own voice hesitant, and she wondered if she truly wanted to know. But Faust had to have brought her to the tangle for a reason.

        Tears began to shimmer down Faust’s face as she silently gazed upon the tangle. Reaching out, she picked up the dense ball of interwoven fates, and gently stroked it. A pair of tears fell from her chin, adding to the endless sea.

        “I made a choice, Tyr,” Faust whispered. “I passed my test, and it cost me and the world so much. Had I failed, however, it would have been far worse.”

        “I don’t understand.”

        “We are the last of the Aethyir, Tyr,” Faust slowly released the tangle, letting it fall back into the ocean. “Some call us Gods and Goddesses, and they may be right. As the Aethyir, we were Perfection and Harmony. But as Alicorns, we are both blessed and cursed, Tyr. These shells we inhabit are not perfect, and those imperfections resonate down to the cores of our divine essence. Eventually, we all will either crack and succumb to the Taint, or we will choose to fade from the world.

        “I chose the latter, my sister did not.”

        “And this, um, knot was the cause?”

        “Aye,” the single word contained a weight as great as the disc resting upon Ioka’s shell. “I had the choice to prevent a member of my herd from being harmed in the worst possible manner. From the moment I looked at the weave and saw what was to come, it became set and almost unavoidable.”

        “You couldn’t change it?” Tyr scooted forward as the question left her tongue, looking down on the knot with greater curiosity.

         “Yes, I could have. I could have snapped the threads, re-woven the Weave. It is not outside my Domain. But to do so, to not just maintain and watch the Weave, but to tamper, to bend it to my whim? I would have fallen, becoming a Nightmare that would have been impossible to redeem or defeat. I passed the test, and I went and found a place where the world would be safe from me, and where I could tend the wounds of my heart.”

        Standing abruptly, Faust left the knot, the weave shifting and flowing until it returned to the present. All around Tyr were patches of... something. Tyr wasn’t sure what to call the effect, except that it made seeing the strands difficult. Not impossible, but it was like looking through a tinted jar.

        "Why is it harder to see these strands?"

        "That is caused by the presence of those not part of the Weave, such as yourself when you first arrived. There are almost a dozen such causes still. As they either return to their home or are sewn into the Weave, things will become clear again."

        'Almost a dozen,' Tyr mouthed, her heart skipping a beat to think of so many of her relatives somewhere out there on this world. She was aware that two others had come with her, at least, given what she'd overheard and been told. Tyr suspected her cousins Shyara and She-Without-A-Name had been the two that came with her, but wasn't certain.

        "You know who they are, yes?" Faust turned to Tyr. The elder Goddess' features had lost all their sorrow and distant concern, becoming hard and dark. "I need to know who they are, Tyr! I need to know if they are a threat. I will not let history repeat itself again. Not when the Weave is in flux, not when I can change things for the better without risk." Faust's horn flashed with ruby magic, an image of a lithe unicorn shimmering into existence between her and Tyr. "Who does this pony remind you of? Which of your relatives?"

        Tyr scooted back a little ways as she shifted her gaze from Faust to the illusion of Fleur, then back to Faust.

        "That's Fleur. Has something happened to her? Did my sister hurt her for looking like one of her Priestesses?"

        Faust dismissed the illusion before laying down next to Tyr, extending a wing in a hug. "Your sister... has done something terrible to Fleur. She has tried to steal Fleur's destiny. I must intervene, but how I do so will depend on what you tell me."

        "You won't hurt her, will you?" Tyr asked, dread bubbling up in her stomach. "Fleur is a nice pony."

        "I can make no promises, Tyr." Faust looked away.

        Grinding her teeth Tyr tried to order her thoughts.

        "Athena, Goddess of Wisdom." The name whispered into the air, a faint tear at her betrayal tracing down her cheek. "She's not a bad pony, she just... She made a mistake! She didn't intend for the War and for the Citadel to be destroyed! Nopony could have known what Ares, Achlys, and the other Titans would do after Demea killed Hecate! "

        Faust nodded slowly, raising to her hooves. She said, not unkindly, "It's time for you to wake and return to the physical realm, Tyr."

        "Wait! You didn't tell me my name! Isn't that what you're supposed to do?" Tyr scrambled to her hooves.

        Faust gave a little bubbling laugh, pressing a hoof to her lips.

        "Tyr, you know that our names have Power. You are Tyr. You have always been Tyr. You will always be Tyr," Faust said as she and the Weave of Fate faded away.

        "No, please, I need to know, what is my destiny? What is my Domain?" Tyr cried out after the vanishing goddess, throwing up a hoof as a series of lights burst before her eyes, blinding her for but a moment. When the spots cleared, Tyr found herself laying in her bed in the Palace.

        Blinking back confusion, she looked around and saw the sun just peeking above the horizon from her east facing window. Tyr was further surprised when she felt a warm weight beside her. Turning she saw Cadence, the princess sound asleep with her wing extended over Tyr like a shield. On a nearby cushion sat Celestia, her horn glowing and her eyes closed while she communed with the sun.

        "You're awake," the Goddess of the Sun stated as her magic faded and she opened her eyes. "You gave us a lot of worry, Tyr."

        "How did I get back to the Palace?" Tyr asked. Her entire body ached like she had bounced down a flight of stairs, again. She groaned as she tried to stretch out sore muscles.

        "Cadence found you at the temple. We had almost mobilised the entire Royal Guard for a discreet search of the city when she and the Revered Speaker slipped into the Palace through one of the ancient hidden tunnels." Celestia stepped off her cushion, stretching out her majestic wings as she moved to sit beside the bed. "You've been asleep for over a full day."

        "A full day?" Tyr blinked in shock, thinking back to the vision. It had only felt like a few minutes, and a few years at the same time.

        "Mm Hmm," Celestia said, leaning down to wrap Tyr in a light hug. "Don't you dare scare me like that again, please. I can't lose another foal."

Tyr opened her mouth to make assurances that she was fine, and would also remain so, but the conversation with Faust continued to ring in her ears, and the snarl of threads hung before her sight. Wrapping her hooves around Celestia’s neck, Tyr said, “I promise to try my best.”

        “Good,” Celestia said, keeping her voice low to avoid disturbing Cadence. “Now, why don’t we see what they have in the kitchen.”

* * *

Applejack rubbed the back of her head as she watched her friend, the clatter of the train creating a calming background noise. "Ah still don't understand why you wanted us along, Rarity."

        "Why, it's only the Summer Fashion Show, the premiere gathering of Equestria's fashion elite!" Rarity clapped her hooves together, stars shining in her eyes and an excited giggle making her tremble.

        "Uh-huh," Applejack muttered, nonplussed, "But why am Ah and the Crusaders coming is what Ah don't get. Fluttershy I can sort of understand, what with her short modelling career." Applejack waved over to where the pegasus sat trying to contain the three fillies. "But me? I ain't got no reason to go rubbing noses with them snooty Canterlot ponies."

        "Not even for moi?" Rarity pressed a hoof to her chest in an air of false indignation.

        "It's just, Ah should be at the farm with Mac and Granny, not scampering off for a weekend of frou-frou," Applejack immediately responded, falling for the trap.

        "But if you weren’t here who would I get to supply the hors d’oeuvers for the after-party? So it is partially business related, if spending time with your friends isn't reason enough."

        Rarity stuck out her lower lip ever so slightly, making Applejack cringe and wriggle uncomfortably on her bench.

        Then she did something Rarity didn't expect: Applejack started to cry.

        "Ah'm sorry Rares, Ah didn't mean it like that," Applejack said, furiously scrubbing tears from her eyes.

        "Darling, are you okay?" Rarity asked as she dropped the little teasing barbs that had been readied on her tongue. Instead leaning over to place a concerned hoof on Applejack’s withers.

        Taking a steadying breath, Applejack nodded, "Y-yeah, just peachy. Ah've just been prickly these last few weeks, like a Timberwolf with a cracked paw." Applejack then clapped her hooves together as the city perched on the side of the Canterhorn came into view. "We've all not been ourselves since the others left."

        Fluffing her coiffure with one hoof, Rarity said, "That is true, I certainly haven't —girls! If you don't settle down this instant, you'll all be grounded to your rooms in the Palace until we return home. There will be no cake, no exploring the palace and making mischief, and certainly no crusading! Am I understood?!"

        Rarity's voice cracked through the train-car like a whip, her eyes almost burning as she glared down towards where the three Cutie Mark Crusaders had been playing. All three sat frozen mid-heated argument, Sweetie Belle between Scootaloo and Apple Bloom, keeping her two friends from clobbering each other. With mouths hanging open, they chorused a 'Yes, Rarity,' before sitting primly on their couch, hooves tucked in front of them and overly innocent smiles plastered on their faces.

        "Much better," Rarity smiled back, turning to continue her conversation with Applejack, only to find the farmer staring at her.

        "Rares, what in the hills was that about?"

        "Oh, I, uh, didn't want them to get hurt?" Rarity's voice faltered with uncertainty, the unicorn turning away as a deep blush burned onto her cheeks. Fluttershy walking along the train-car and giving her a curious expression only deepened the blush. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at your sister, or Scootaloo, like that," Rarity hastily apologised.

        "Aw, shoot, I ain't concerned about that. Me and Mac yell at her worse when she's being a hooffull. What shocked me was seeing you yell like that at your sister. I've seen you lose your temper, but never at Sweetie. Is something else going on you want to talk about, Sugarcube?"

        A few small drops of unladylike sweat prickling at her brow, Rarity shied away from Applejack and Fluttershy, the pegasus staying silent but intently listening to the conversation.

        "Um, n-no, there is nothing at all." Rarity gave a weak laugh that she knew Applejack had to see through.

        She was thankfully saved from being called out on her lie as the train pulled into Canterlot Station, the engine's whistle, the squeal of brakes, and the conductor's voice working together to end any conversations. For the next few minutes the three worked in a concert of organised chaos as they corralled the Crusaders, got their luggage, and disembarked from the train.

        "Now, remember, we have reservations at Ratatouille for dinner," Rarity said as she left the train, Applejack, Fluttershy, and the Crusaders trailing, with one of the train's porters straining beneath her mountain of cases behind them.

        "Lady Belle, it has been too long," said a smooth and measured voice as they stepped off the train.

        Rarity just barely suppressed an undignified squeal as she turned and saw Fancy Pants standing near the exit, a porter at his side. Smiling demurely, Rarity crossed the platform as her luggage was unloaded onto a trolley.

        "Fancy, it has been too long," Rarity said, holding up a hoof for Fancy to kiss.

        "Indeed, it has," he said, his voice slightly tighter than normal. "It feels like a lifetime since your last visit."

        Pressing her lips together, Rarity's eyes performed a quick inspection, and what she saw shocked her. Fancy's vest had ever so slight creases in it, indicating he'd slept in it at least once. The remnants of a faint stain below the breast pocket only further confirmed her suspicions. His mane lacked its normal bounce and shine, while barely perceptible bags hung under his eyes.

        "Dear, you look absolutely dreadful," Rarity gasped, covering her mouth with a hoof.

        Fancy looked like he was about to argue, then he just gave a non-committal shrug, saying, "The manor has not been the same since Fleur left."

        "Oh, I understand completely. Ponyville has felt so empty since the girls left on their little adventure. But it is only for a few months. They'll all be back, safe and sound, by Autumn."

        "Indeed," Fancy agreed, though his voice held little conviction.

        Rarity frowned as she began to lead the small group towards the exit, and the waiting pony-drawn carriages. She'd never seen a friend looking so down. Well, not since the time Pinkie thought everypony was avoiding her and didn't want to be her friends. A ridiculous notion, given Pinkie's zest for life, even if she could be a bit overbearing at times with her antics.

        Deciding that she had to do something to cheer the stallion up, Rarity slowed as dozens of possibilities began to swim and take shape. Several she discarded quickly, a new suit would hardly help Fancy out of his malaise, nor some bejeweled bauble. He did rather enjoy himself at garden parties, Rarity mused, the perfect idea leaping to the fore. She was going to host a simple after-party for the fashion show already, and with a few alterations, she could turn it into a wonderful garden party. She just needed the right venue.

        The palace, of course! Rarity gained a wide, proud smile. She was already staying there, and she was certain the Princesses wouldn't mind lending their beautiful garden for a soirée. Some nice wine, good company, and Fancy Pants would surely feel more like his old self, if just for the evening. Rarity held no illusions that it would cure him completely of his ennui. Only Fleur's return would be up to that task.

        Finding the time to speak privately with one of the Princesses turned out to be harder than Rarity first assumed. Celestia and Luna were both in their private studies working on some hush-hush endeavour. Princess Cadence was likewise nowhere to be seen. The scuttlebutt among the palace's staff stating that she too had withdrawn from the public eye.

        It was while she was asking a baker —who was in the middle of creating a truly monstrous chocolate fountain— that Rarity caught a break and learned that Cadence was foalsitting, or something to that effect, for the Ambassador of the Crystal City. Leaving her friends to settle into their rooms, Rarity made the short trek to the Palace's gardens.

        Trotting up the paved walk towards the aviaries, Rarity heard a filly laughing, followed by Cadence's own crystalline voice. Speeding up, Rarity rounded the building and saw the princess and Tyr.

        All at once Rarity felt like she'd been bucked in the gut by Applejack, her insides twisting as she watched princess and filly playing and gambling in the small garden.

        Tyr noticed Rarity first, halting mid-jump as she turned to see who had intruded.

        "Greetings," she said, her breath a little short, "I remember you. You're one of Celestia's heroes, right? Lady Rarity Belle?"

        Picking herself out of the grass, small clumps of green clinging to her coat, Cadence smiled broadly. "Rarity, it's good to see you again," the princess said as she and her foster-daughter approached.

        Her coat felt like ants were crawling through it, making Rarity squirm as the princess drew up before her. Rarity tried to smile in return and remember why she had gone to find the princess. Party, it had something to do with a party.

        "I-I, uh, I wanted to ask you for permission to host a moderately sized soirée in the palace's gardens," Rarity finally managed to say, her voice coming out a little strained and breathless as if it had been her romping and playing.

        "Well, I don't think it would be an issue," Cadence hummed, rubbing her chin as she thought. "Why do you want to hold the party here, if you don't mind my asking?"

        With a mental shrug, Rarity forced her thoughts back on track, and her eyes away from Tyr as the filly slunk off to hide behind some low bushes. Rarity explained what she had seen at the train station and how she wanted to do a little something to help cheer Fancy Pants up.

        "If it is for Fancy Pants then you should invite Admiral Jib Sail and his wives, Lady Silver Tongue and Mrs. Primrose. He's the current head of the Board, though he's expected to retire in the next year or so. Fancy and Jib are old friends, if memory serves me. The Marchioness of Abbotsford is in Canterlot for the fashion show, and a little bird has it that she has taken an interest in a young and upcoming Lady recently. The Marchioness and Fancy have had a friendly rivalry the past few years, and her inclusion could go a ways to bringing him out of his depression. It also wouldn't hurt your fortunes." Cadence gave Rarity a significant look as she finished. "I'll also see if I can pry my Aunt and Luna into attending. He tried for a while to get one of us attend his Starlight Parties, but we were always too busy."

        "Excellent," Rarity barely avoided squealing with delight, turning it into a semi-lady-like giggle. "Oh, how are you and Tyr doing?" Rarity then asked.

Cadence sighed, an ear twitching. The same ear had been following the progress of Tyr as she slunk and shimmied between the various bushes. Based on the movements Rarity suspected the alicorn turned unicorn was somewhere off to her right.

          "It's been... different," the princess admitted. "I've foalsat for many important herds throughout the long years, as you know. But it's odd always being there. To be the one she cries for when she gets sick, or having a bad day and needs to talk. Last week I had a Parent-Teacher interview even. It was... Interesting."

          "Yes, foals can be such a hoofful," Rarity agreed, letting a slight smile tug at the corner of her mouth. It took her a few seconds to notice the odd look Cadence was giving her. "I had to help raise my sister," Rarity hastily explained, "Our mother is the captain of a merchant vessel and would be gone for months, or longer, at a time."

          "What about your father, or his other wives? Or was your parents’ herd a..." Cadence let her voice trail off and she gave a polite cough.

          "Oh, no they weren't, uh, those. Our mum lost her co-mother to a storm off the Marelantians shortly before Sweetie was born. Mum had taken time ashore to deliver, and Crest was given the ship. S-she was knocked over the head by a block and never woke up." Rarity scoffed at the ground, the memories of those days still fresh in her mind. The looks of complete devastation on her remaining parents' faces when they received the news was seared into her memory. It had been the reason her father had decided to move from Shelmareston inland to Ponyville. But the sea ran too deep in her mother’s veins for her to stay away.

          "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up painful memories," Cadence said.

          "It's alright," Rarity quickly said, shaking off the memories. Taking the opportunity, Rarity stood to leave." So, the garden party will be held here?" When Cadence confirmed, Rarity gave a brisk smile, and called back, "Thank you Princess," in a sing-song voice.

          Rarity gave a little squeal of delight. There were plans to be made, and only a few days to make them. Between the fashion show and party, she would have her hooves full, each requiring different touches. But it would be worth it, she just knew it. Rarity couldn’t wait to see Fancy Pants’ face at the garden party.

* * *

"See, Fluttershy, dear, this isn't so bad," Rarity said as she took a sip from a wonderfully full and fruity Pinot Noir.

         Fluttershy, for her part, gave a simple murmur of agreement that was lost in the sea of gentle hub-bub of conversation they were immersed within. The party wasn't precisely small, but it wasn't one of the wild and packed parties Pinkie often threw in Ponyville either. Instead it was a happy medium, but still enough ponies that Fluttershy felt her wings constantly jittering as she tried to hide behind her mane and the ice sculpture of Princess Celestia beside the hors d’oeurvres table.

         Even the Royal House was in attendance. Celestia and Luna mingling, having arrived after putting the sun to bed and bringing forth the moon, while Cadence and Shining Armour laughed politely at some joke Fancy Pants had said near the statue of Equis Victorious. Fluttershy didn't see either Tyr or Prince Blueblood. It would have been odd to see the filly, given that publicly nothing had been said about her. Fluttershy had the distinct impression that Tyr was being kept a bit of a secret.

         Or she was in bed. That was a strong possibility too, Fluttershy privately thought as she slunk towards the table to get a glass of wine. She didn't normally drink wine, but Rarity had put so much effort into the party and selecting the drinks that Fluttershy knew she had to try a little for her friend. Timing her approach just right, she darted forward, poured herself a small glass, and turned to find herself nose to nose with The Admiral.

         Admiral Jib Sail was a light coated unicorn with a thin, fading mane that was swept back and shone with oils and perfumes. Scars covered much of his visible hide, the compass cutie mark on his left flank split into two ragged halves. He gave Fluttershy a wide smile that showed his many missing teeth.

         "Lady Fluttershy, it is a pleasure to see you out and about," the Admiral said, sweeping up one of Fluttershy's hooves so he could place a gentle kiss upon it. "After I read that you had retired from the public life after your short, but highly spoken of, modeling career, I thought never to see you about Canterlot again."

         "O-oh, um, yes," Fluttershy felt her mind go a complete blank, like white paint had been poured into her thoughts.

         "So, Princess Twilight should be just about reaching the Zebrican coast about now, if they had fair winds and fair seas," the Admiral gave a hearty laugh, thumping the table as he shouted, "Touch wood and scratch a backstay."

         "I-I wouldn't know. I've never—."

         "Yes, they should make land somewhere off the Arquipelago dos Bijagos if I know Captain Hardy, and I should since he was a midshipstallion of mine aboard the Charger in '44," the Admiral said as he refilled his glass. Fluttershy tried to slink away while the Admiral was distracted, but found him right beside her again, a hoof tossed over her withers, as he began to talk about ships, and wind, and a lot of things Fluttershy couldn't begin to follow.

         "Did I just hear you correctly, Admiral?" Rarity asked, her voice dripping with excessive sweetness as she appeared beside a trembling Fluttershy. "Did you just say that Lady Chastity took the Queen Awning's Retribution in '43? While heading from the port of Mozamba to Brest? And in a brisk northerly wind?"

         For a few moments Rarity gave the Admiral a harsh eye, the elderly stallion grinning wider and wider until both broke out into a chorus of dignified laughter.

         Ears pressed flat against her head, Fluttershy said, "Um, I don't understand the joke."

         "It seems our Lady Belle has something of the sea in her blood, is the joke," the Admiral said, magicing out a hoofkerchief to dab at the tears of mirth in the corners of his eyes. "Quite so, my Lady. It wasn't in '43, it was in '46, during the peace, and in seas heaving so terribly the crews had to fight their own ships as much as the enemy."

         "Mother told me about that battle. She was in the South Seas at the time, transporting porcelain dolls if memory serves me. As I recall, the Lady Chastity took Queen Awning's Retribution by playing the prize, shot out the Queen Awning's Retribution's main-mast, and proceeded to put two broadsides through her galley windows."

         "Oh, my," Fluttershy gasped, covering her mouth with her hooves. "Was anypony hurt?"

         The Admiral gave Fluttershy a flat, sad look while Rarity winced. Fluttershy recognised the look Rarity gave whenever she had unknowingly said something hurtful or rude. Rarity said, "No, Darling, everypony was—."

         "Tosh! The pirates were mauled something fierce," the Admiral barked, taking another gulp of his wine, his cheeks glowing a rosy red beneath his coat. "A hundred and fifty dead in three minutes. Captain Wild Beard himself had two of his legs shot off at the knees by chain-shot. Had himself propped up on a chair so he could continue to direct the battle until his ship was finally taken. A neat, quick, bloody action if ever there was one. By Celestia, what I'd have given to have been on the Lady Chastity's quarter-deck that day. "

         Rarity was almost vibrating with rage, directed both at herself and the Admiral. Fluttershy had gone green and was visibly shaking, her stomach performing a dance so complicated it could have won awards on Broadway in Manehattan. She could picture it so clearly, Twilight, Pinkie, and Rainbow laying, face down and unmoving, in pools of their own blood. Just like in her worst dreams, the ones in that awful white citadel. Fluttershy began to tremble as the images tumbled through her mind.

         "Oh no, and Twilight, Pinkie, and Rainbow are on one of those ships right now." Fluttershy's trembling increased until she was almost creating small tremors in the ground.

         Trying her best to control her features and diffuse the situation, Rarity gave Fluttershy a reassuring smile and said, "Oh, don't worry for our friends. They are aboard a Third-Rate Ship-of-the-Line. The largest Privateer afloat is that wicked, and unfashionable, Captain Bloodrose, and I can guarantee you she wouldn't dare try to harm our friends."

         "R-really?" Fluttershy sniffed, trying to reclaim some of her confidence and composure.

         "Indeed," Rarity said with a stern nod. "She knows what I'd do to her if she did."

         The Admiral arched a brow, a dark chuckle rumbling through his throat. "Ha, a good jest, Lady Belle, but Bloodrose answers to no mare or stallion. Still, I doubt even she would want to tangle with a ship of Their Majesties' Royal Navy, especially one with a princess aboard. T'would be suicide."

         Grinding her teeth, Rarity said towards the oblivious pony, "Yes, indeed."

         "Furthermore," the Admiral continued, "I was under the impression you've seen more than your share of action yourself, Lady Posey. Why, weren't you and the other Elements in Appleloosa for the end of the border skirmishes with the Buffalo? And your role in the Battle of Canterlot last summer is well known. That was the first major battle the Equestrian Royal Guard and Army has had in centuries."

         "Admiral," Rarity interrupted the old pony, her voice tense like a bow ready to let loose an arrow. "Appleloosa was a glorified food-fight. A lot of posturing and beating of chests, but the worst injury any pony, or buffalo, suffered were sprained ankles or getting pie in their eyes. As for the Battle of Canterlot, dear Fluttershy hid behind the rest of us." Rarity puffed her chest out, laying a hoof on her friend's withers to still her trembling. "Fluttershy is an invaluable part of our group, but not as a fighter, but as a pony who ends fights with but a few words and a stern glare."

         "Of course, of course, the Posey's are Mindshatterers," the Admiral nodded his head sagely. "Their lack of martial prowess is almost as legendary as their Stare. How foolish of me. My most humble and sincere apologies, Lady Posey," said the admiral as he took Fluttershy's hoof in his own and gave it a quick kiss leaving both mares speechless. "I am afraid I must beg your leave, my dears. I see my second wife has had too much of the red and seems to be accosting Princess Cadence. I better take her aside before she makes too much of a faux pas and traumatises somepony."

         Letting out a relieved sigh, Rarity turned to Fluttershy, giving her dear friend a quick hug.

         "You alright, darling?"

         "Y-yes," Fluttershy muttered, her wings drooping a little. "You really think that the others are alright?"

         "Think? I know," Rarity proclaimed, letting her confidence shine onto her friend. "Don't let the Admiral's words get to you, old salts like him don't have much sense when it comes to other ponies."

         Fluttershy gave a meek nod, her mind churning over the Admiral's words.  A large part of her wished she was with her friends. An even larger part wished she was curled up under the covers of her bed, or resting beneath the boughs of an oak glowing silver beneath the moon, resting her head against the soft feathers of a Northern Roc, or perhaps the course, black fur of a Barghest, his breath curling with little flames and his cute beady eyes glowing like embers.

         It took Fluttershy several moments to realize she was wearing a dopey grin and Rarity was watching her, eyes piercing her with their concern.

         "You alright, Fluttershy?"

         "I'm sorry, Rarity, I was just a little lost in my thoughts, I guess," Fluttershy said, her voice beginning to trail off near the end.

         "Darling, please, I'm a friend. If something is bothering you, all you have to do is say the word and we'll find a quiet corner where you can tell me all about it."

         Fluttershy tried to reassure Rarity that she was all-right, just a little tense from being around so many ponies, but her voice faltered as she gazed towards the refreshment table and spotted Applejack, the farmer more green than orange.

         "Oh dear, Applejack," Fluttershy cried in a whisper, quickly stepping towards her other friend with Rarity right behind her. "Are you alright? Do you need to lay down?"

         "Nah, Ah'm okay, 'Shy. Just felt a little—," the remainder of Applejack's reassurances ended as she spun about and thrust her head into the Lynwood Gold Forsythia where she proceeded to throw up the wine and food she'd eaten. "Okay, maybe I could do with a lie-down," Applejack conceded, giving her friends a sad, sheepish look.

         Quickly scanning the still bustling party, no pony having noticed the event, Fluttershy said to Rarity, "I'll take Applejack back to our rooms. It would be noticed if you left your own party."

         "You sure?" Rarity asked, holding back Applejack's mane as the farmer thrust her head back into the bush. Fluttershy just gave a quick, almost bordering on forceful, nod, to which Rarity responded, "I'll be up as soon as I can get away. You just rest, Applejack."

         Quietly slipping out of the garden, Applejack hanging her head low, the pair made their way up to their rooms. Just as Fluttershy was kicking the door shut, Applejack leapt forward again, disappearing into the bathroom. Fluttershy didn't need to hear her friend's retching to know what was happening.

         "How are you doing?" she called through the bathroom door, fidgeting her hooves and wings as she waited for a response.

         "Just peachy, 'Shy," Applejack groaned in response, "Just peachy."

         It was several long, gut churning, minutes before Applejack emerged from the bathroom, her eyes hanging with deep bags beneath them.

         "This is the worst stomach bug Ah've ever had. Every time Ah think Ah've kicked, it comes right back," Applejack groaned as she crawled into her bed, dragging over a waste bin.

         "Really? This has been going on for a while?" Fluttershy asked, gently stroking her friend's mane with a hoof.

         "'Bout a month now, Ah reckon. Thought of seeing the doctor a couple of times, but then it would seem to clear up."

         Nibbling on her lower lip, Fluttershy knew what the symptoms Applejack described sounded like. But it surely couldn't be that, could it? No, no, it couldn't be. But, maybe it was.

         Taking a deep, steadying breath, Fluttershy asked, "Applejack, you're not pregnant, are you?"

         Applejack gave a mirthless chuckle as she shook her head. "Ah can't be 'Shy. Ain't never been... well, with a stallion, if you get my meaning." Applejack pulled and tugged at her sheets, resting her chin on the bed's edge. "Ah can't be," the farmer muttered again to herself as she slowly drifted off to an uneasy rest.

* * *

"Come in," General Hydros barked, the door to her office swinging open before her voice died away. Expecting the interruption to be more reports on the progress of the new recruits to the army, Hydros thrust a claw towards a corner of her desk and said, "You can leave them there."

         "Excusez-moi?"

         The sharply accented Prench voice caused Hydros to snap her head up, her remaining eye focusing in on the intruder to her office.

         A tall, shapely unicorn stood leaning against the rough stone door frame. Her coat was a light blue in the flickering torchlight. Her mane, white with a thick band of red, hung over the right side of her face, covering one of her ruby eyes, the tip spiralling into a single tight curl. As she sauntered into the office, a playful wiggle of her hips showed off her full flanks and the red-white crossed rapiers that were her cutie mark.

         "Who are you, and why are you in my office?" the general asked, one claw slowly reaching for the sword hidden beneath her desk.

         "My name, mon amie, is Noblesse Oblige. You may call me just Noblesse," the unicorn gave a playful smirk as she sat on a low bench in front of the desk. Rouge magic playing along her horn, she plucked a pair of grapes from a bowl on the desk's corner and popped them in her mouth.

         A weary sigh escaped Hydros as she stopped reaching for her sword. This was one of two things; an assassination, in which case the unicorn was skilled enough to infiltrate the aerie, slip past thousands of soldiers and guards, and reach the general's office without raising an alarm; or she was selling information. Given the lack of weapons, Hydros was ever so slightly leaning towards the latter. Though one could never be sure with magic-users.

         Hydros despised them for that very reason, as did most proper and honourable griffons.

         Magic was for tricksters and blackguards, it had no use other than to cause suffering. That the King allowed any practitioners to stay in the Aerie was only because it would have been unwise to have no council on matters of magic, should such council be needed.

         "Why are you here, Miss Noblesse?"

         "I am here to offer an exchange." Noblesse was like a cat smiling at a mouse, her eyes and lips fairly screaming ill intent. "You are aware of the change in the stars, Non?"

         "How they have been moving and swishing about? Yeah, you'd have to live in a cave not to have noticed. Your point?"

         "Are you aware of the cause of these displays? These... dances?"

         Letting out a frustrated growl and drumming her talons on the desk, Hydros rested her head in the palm of one claw. "No. The High Magician has claimed it is wicked spirits and dark portents of the end of the Aerie. Pah, the fool doesn't know his beak from his butt."

         Noblesse let out a sharp burst of laughter, a hoof lifting up to cover her mouth.

         "In a way, your magician is correct." Noblesse shifted forward, leaning against the desk and fixing Hydros with an intense stare. "There is a new Alicorn."

         It took all Hydros' years of politics and military service not to give any outward indication of the sharp stab of fear that pierced her heart as if the unicorn had hurled a spear at her rather than words.

         "An Alicorn, you say, like, the princesses of Equestria?" Hydros asked, trying to keep her voice both interested and incredulous at the same time, while also readying herself to leap across the desk and tear out the unicorn's throat.

         "Oui, just the same. She was even crowned at the end of Celebration of Life," Noblesse said, either not noticing or not caring about the tenseness of the general.

         Hydros relaxed a little as it became clear Noblesse wasn't speaking about Talona. The foal had never been officially crowned as a princess, and griffons didn't follow the Celebration of Life like the equine races. Though Noblesse could have just been using it as a familiar reference of time. Something about the unicorn, however, made Hydros confident she wasn't speaking about the foal currently in the roost.

         As it became clearer that Talona wasn't the focus of the unicorn's clandestine visit, Hydros leaned further across the desk, her curiosity rising. There was a reason that this new Alicorn of Stars had been mentioned.

         "What does it matter what Equestria does. It is half the world away, across the Marelantic Ocean."

         "It should concern you, général, since she is coming here, to this very aerie."

         For the second time, fear stabbed deep into Hydros. An Alicorn coming to the Aerie. There was only one reason for such an unprecedented visit: Talona. As far as Equestria knew or was concerned Bloodrock was still the preeminent aerie. If the journey to the griffons was diplomatic in nature, that would be the more logical aerie to visit. It was larger and used to be stronger. But, again, Equestria couldn't be aware of the shift in power among the aeries. Not yet, anyways.

         As if reading the general's mind, Noblesse said, "This got us to wondering; Why is the newly crowned Princess Twilight visiting the smallest, youngest, and weakest of the griffon aeries, and before traveling to any of the pony nations? There has to be a reason, given Celestia herself has never publicly left her nation since she won that war with her sister. There must be a very good reason to snub the entirety of the Old Kingdoms, non?"

         Clearly savouring the moment, Noblesse plucked another grape, and slowly ate it, letting a heavy silence descend on the office while Hydros waited for the unicorn to continue.

         "Then we got a most interesting dispatch from our embassy in Canterlot." Jumping from the bench, Noblesse again summoned her magic. Out of thin air appeared a scroll bound in tri-coloured tape; blue, white, and red. Dropping the scroll on the desk, Noblesse continued, "Our Ambassador abandoning her duty to her nation and home in order to travel with the princess and take a leave of absence for 'personal reasons'."

         "Please, just get to the point already. I am very busy," Hydros swept a talon towards the stacks of papers, "And would like to get this done before I have to meet with my brother, the King."

         "So rude," Noblesse huffed, lifting her nose into the air. "But, as you wish."

         Sitting back down, she folded her hooves, a dangerous light behind her eyes.

         "Prance is aware of just who, or should I say, what, is living in this aerie. One of the rarest of all the races in this world. Prance is also aware that it is to 'rescue' this foal that the new princess travels to Griffonia. You should also know that Prance has no interest in claiming or attempting to steal this foal for herself. Why our Ambassador to Equestria travels with the princess eludes us, but it is the position of my government that we are not taking a side in this coming conflict. Yet."

         As Noblesse spoke, Hydros drew herself straighter and straighter in her chair. Fear and panic were gone, replaced by an odd calmness. The same serenity Hydros felt whenever battle was joined. Sliding open a drawer, she withdrew a bottle of aged Griffon Ale. Along with the bottle she produced two cups, filling both to the brim.

         "Why are you so freely giving away this information?" Hydros asked as she took one cup for herself, and passed the other to Noblesse.

         "Prance has found that when we do not wish to dirty our hooves, it is better to employ the use of others," Noblesse began, taking a careful sip of her drink after Hydros took a long, fortifying gulp of hers. "We do not wish to see yet another Alicorn fall into Equestria's hooves."

         "So, you'd have us do your dirty work for you," Hydros fairly spat the words, contempt making her beak click.

         "Please, think of it more like us both working in our best interests, Non?"

         "If such a foal existed and was in this aerie, and I am not saying that is true, but if, if one was here, why not try to take her for yourselves?"

         Noblesse gave a soft titter of laughter, setting her cup aside after a second small sip.

         "If such a foal appeared again in Prance, Equestria would simply demand we turn her over to them. Our neighbors would no-doubt side with Equestria. Prance is not in a position to fend off all the other nations, no matter what the Ministry of Foreign Affairs may say."

         "'Again'? I was unaware Prance had ever been in a position of being home to an alicorn," Hydros swirled her ale as she spoke, wondering what information about the reclusive, and so-called Goddesses, she could glean.

         "Oui, you are terrible uninformed if you have not heard the legends of the Valley of the Foal." Noblesse tossed her mane, a slight smirk touching the corner of her red eyes. "But that is unimportant," she then said, waving a hoof before she stood and began to make her way towards the door. "What is important is that Princess Twilight Sparkle does not reach this aerie."

         With those final words Noblesse slipped out and was gone. For several long minutes Hydros stared at the scroll that had been left on her desk.

         A slight snarl pulling at her beak, she eventually plucked up the fine parchment, pony scrolls being much nicer and whiter than the rough, yellow paper of Griffonia. Snapping off the tri-coloured tie, she unrolled the scroll, eye flickering over its contents. Reading it three times to be sure she would remember everything, Hydros tossed the scroll into the fireplace. Pulling out a new sheet of parchment and a quill, Hydros scrawled a hasty set of orders, made a copy, and sealed both with wax and her signet ring.

         Pulling on a bell-cord, Hydros barely looked up as her attaché marched into the office. In a gruff bark, she ordered the attaché to find the High Magician and bring him to the General. Later she'd find out just how Noblesse had slipped past the guards and scribes, for now she had orders to send. The first was addressed to the border-forts. Northern forts had already been put on alert following the successful Trial of Possession. All the remaining forts would have their garrisons bolstered and be put on alert for any unusual occurrences.

         "You summoned me, sister?" sneered the voice of a snake.

         Hydros didn't need to look up to know it was her younger brother. She could smell his dusty robes and hear the rap-tap-tap of his gilded staff. Finishing the last line of the next set of orders with a flourish of her quill, Hydros finally gave her attention to her brother. His de-clawed talons were wrapped tight about his ceremonial staff, while his eyes had a heavy lidded look. When he breathed Hydros could detect the heavy odor of opium.

         "Pyrzan," the general began as she passed freshly written orders to the attaché, "We have trouble approaching."

         "Trouble you say? No, it cannot be!" Pyrzan placed a talon to his breast as he gave a low, long sigh. Face hardening, he dropped the false affectation, saying, "I've only been warning you of this for the past month since that abomination was taken in by our dear, beloved, wise King." Sliding onto the bench Noblesse had occupied earlier, the High Magician continued, ignoring the furious glare leveled at him. "Our brother and you are fools both for bringing this blight upon our aerie. Nothing good, no, nothing good indeed, will come of it existing amongst our kind."

         "If you start going on about lambs and wolves, Pyrzan, I swear I will strangle you myself," Hydros growled, rubbing at her remaining eye.

         "Lambs and wolf indeed," chuckled the lounging High Magician. "Only, it is not the lamb, no, we are. You have brought a Power into this aerie, dear sister, one that will consume us all if we are not careful. That the King insists on treating and attempting to raise it as if it were one of our cubs is ludicrous." Pyrzan stopped bemoaning long enough to click his tongue and shake his head. Plucking up the almost full cup of ale, he asked, "So, who was your guest, and what did they tell you that made it so I was dragged from my laboratory?"

         "The pony nations seek to play us against each other, brother." Hydros began, steepling her claws. Quickly she went through the important information gleaned from the brief encounter, her brother's eyes growing darker and darker as she spoke. When she was done, Hydros asked, "So, brother, what would you advise?"

         The High Magician pondered the question for a good while, swirling the cup of ale in his clawless talons. At last he stopped the motion and looked up.

         "I advise nothing. You and I both know what needs to be done, dear sister."

         "Will you do it, though?" Hydros asked, and the threat in her voice could not have been clearer.

         Bristling, Pyrzan said, "I know my duty, General. I may bemoan our King, and your, decisions behind these closed doors, but that does not make me any less loyal to our Pride. This will be seen to."

         "Very good," Hydros said, waving a dismissive claw as she returned to issuing the needed orders. Before the High Magician slipped back through the door, she said, "And be careful, brother. The aerie can't afford to lose you."

         He just gave a smirk in return, and then he was gone, plots and plans already dancing in his head.

* * *

The Seventeen Gates stood cold and passionless at the true base of Mount Alicornus. At the heart of the Gates stood a great arch of stone. Older than Tartarus and etched with eldritch runes that glowed a tempting midnight blue, few knew the site’s purpose or origins. Two of the only beings in existence to know both mysteries stood before the mighty edifice, for they were older still.

         "It is as magnificent as I remember," Zeus laughed, his booming voice echoing across Tartarus' bleak and blasted wastes.

         "Indeed," was all the response Hades gave him, the black alicorn striding forward with purpose to each step. He wore a conservative smile on his face, and if not for it Zeus would have told Hades to be less dour. "Do you know to which world they would have gone?" Hades asked as he stroked the arch much like he would his beloveds' necks.

         Both loves of his life were gone; one slain, the other hiding on the surface. In time, Hades would make the journey to Gaea and beg for forgiveness from his second wife, but not before he returned their daughter to her rightful place at his side. Then he, Hades, Lord of the Underworld and God of the Dead would find she who slew Hecate and smite her, if she yet existed.

         His smile grew grim at the idea, the runes beneath his hoof flickering at his touch.

         "Nay, brother, but it is easy to guess." Zeus snorted once and drew forth a scroll of minotaur leather. "On this scroll is everything I learned from Cadence before grief utterly consumed her. They were attempting to create another gate when the armies of our children assaulted the Citadel of Light."

         Hades snorted in contempt at the idea of creating a new gate. The Seventeen Gates were forged at the dawn of the innumerable worlds. None had been able to replicate them, for the gates had been woven out of thought itself when the rules of creation were unbound.

         Pressing ahead through the interruption, Zeus laid out the scroll. On it were a series of notes and incantations. Pointing to the notes, Zeus said, "They were using a window to search through the nearby worlds, those that closest approximate our own, and searching for one where they would be safe."

         "Safe? So, not one ruled by a Nightmare or Titans. That narrows the potential candidates down considerably. There are perhaps less than a dozen worlds where they'd be safe and the world would be close to our own Gaea where they'd feel comfortable and not out of place. I had begun to worry this journey of ours would take centuries. We may have this done by Summer's end. It was Summer on Gaea, yes?"

         Zeus gave quick confirmation, Hades' smile growing at his correct assumption.

         "So, where first?" Hades asked, clapping his hooves together. "Ammun? Toril? Ioka? Mundi? Perhaps Tamriel? No, not Tamriel, that realm would be too violent for them to believe it a safe haven, same with Toril. So, Ammun, Ioka, or Mundi? Which strikes your fancy more, brother?"

         "As I recall, Ioka can be a violent place as well," Zeus tapped his chin, "though such can be said for all worlds. Ammun can be considered an idyllic paradise, in comparison, that almost rivals Elysium itself."

         "So, Ammun then," Hades said as he began towards a small dais just before the arch.

         "Nay, hold brother," Zeus commanded, holding up a hoof. "While Ammun is certainly a paradise, it strikes me that the Archons would not take kindly to our kind intruding on their grand experiment. Ioka and Mundi strike me as the smarter worlds upon which to hide. Near enough our own so that they will not be out of place, yet only a bare few of our number chose to settle upon them, two sisters in both cases, if I recall rightly. Yes, we will try one of them first, and should it prove fruitless, at least we will have pleasant company."

         Zeus gave a lecherous chuckle as he strode towards his brother and the dais.

         "Very good," Hades said as he began to channel the power of Tartarus, lighting up his horn with ghostly magic. "Which would you prefer first?"

         "I leave it to your discretion brother. Either is equally probable."

         "Very well," Hades growled, focusing his magic towards the dais.

         Before his hooves, placed deep into the center of the dais, were seventeen different rune-stones. Lifting the rune-stones, Hades began to rearrange them, rotating the seven sided stones as they danced and swung overhead. Midnight blue magic, mirroring that coming from the arch, flickered from the stones, a low chiming tinkle of music beginning to filter through the wastes. Overhead storms gathered and thickened, the lurid red lightning crackling forth as Hades began to lower the rune-stones.

         A wind whipped across Tartarus, tearing at the brother's manes and assaulting their eyes with obsidian sand. Around and around the gate it spun, the lightning joining the wind to snap and hiss against the arch. Increasing in tempo, the music and lightning moved faster and faster until the last rune-stone was placed and absolute stillness settled upon the wastes.

         "The First Races sure enjoyed their theatrics, didn't they?" Zeus chortled.

         Hades remained silent, concentrating on maintaining the delicate control of the wild magic still clinging to the air like a cloying mist. With a snarl, he struck the top of the Gate with a bolt of black-cored magic.

         The chiming music became a harsh squeal, like violins being abused by foals, yet somehow still uplifting and making the blood surge. Spidery white threads of energy spread between the runes on the arch, each resonating with the primordial song. Deepening to a rumbling report, the music ended in a crack of thunder and the boom of an avalanche.

         Held in the arch's arms was a pool of gently rippling quicksilver. Staring through the pool the brothers saw a field of sun bleached grass broken by dull orange stone and gravel. In the distance, almost to the horizon, a hazy line of mountains stood, the only break in the otherwise flat and empty land beyond.

         Without speaking, the brothers quickly stepped forward, not hesitating as they entered the Gate. There was a moment where their coats tingled followed by a sharp stab of pain like a knife had been driven between their wings.

         Gasping and gritting their teeth, they stepped out the Gate's far side and found themselves beneath the warming rays of a brilliant sun, where they promptly collapsed.

         Rolling his shoulders, Zeus recovered first, grumbling as he stood on shaking hooves. Behind him the Gate had already closed, golden bars slamming down before the still visible rippling pool. Around the Gate were dozens of scorch marks from lightning that had mirrored the display in Tartarus.

         "I shall never get used to the feeling of being separated from my Domain," Zeus grumbled as he tested his wings. "Even if it is for but a moment," he added as the storms and lightning of the new world awoke to his presence.

         There was a moment of confusion as they began to notice Zeus, unused to having so intimate and complete a connection to a living entity. Ignoring the thousands of various storms across the world, Zeus offered a hoof to his brother. The storms had existed since the worlds birth without his input, they hardly needed it now, and Zeus had no interest in meddling in their affairs. He would draw on their might if he needed to, as was his right.

         Hades slapped his brother's offer aside as he wobbled to his own hooves, a grim grunt working its way from his chest as he too made a primal connection to his Domain. Unlike his brother's storms, Tartarus was where it always sat beneath the mortal worlds, connected to all of them, though none as strongly as Gaea. This particular world's connection was somewhere in the middle range, neither strong nor weak. He could feel the flow of souls entering the great river Styx to begin their journey towards either Elysium or his own realm like a gentle rain against his coat when he concentrated.

         "So, which is it? Ioka or Mundi?" Zeus asked as he peered off towards the distant mountains.

         "I'll let you figure it out, brother," Hades laughed, testing his own wings and working out the last lingering effects of the gate. Looking around he gave a little frown. "Odd, where is this world's Cerberus? Those blasted hounds have been wandering off more and more."

         "You should have used thicker chains."

         Letting out an exasperated huff, Hades didn't dignify Zeus with a response. Instead he took to the sky with broad, powerful strokes of his wings, twisting and twirling higher and higher, enjoying the feeling of sunlight on his face after a thousand years shut in Tartarus. With no clear indication of where the nearest town or city lay, Hades headed north, for north was the direction the gate faced.

         "You coming, brother, or does the Lord of Storms have a wing-cramp?" Hades shouted down to Zeus.

         A playful smirk playing with his features, Zeus thundered into the air with one great thrust of his wings. In a moment he caught up to his brother and flew past, small storms crackling in his wake.