Myths and Birthrights: The Archive

Myths and Birthrights

By Tundara

Part Three: Ghosts of the North

Chapter Seventeen: The Prince and the Pirate

The tenth of June dawned much the same as the previous day, and the day before that, with only one minor variation. The sails were filled to capacity, with a strong wind out of the south by south-west striking the Bellerophon just three points off her stern. The Bellerophon was naturally a tower of white, every stitch of canvas the masts could bear having been aloft for days on end with nary a change as they raced to make up lost time. Smiles abounded, the ship happy once more despite concerns for the princess tucked into her cot below.

Anxious faces peered through the skylight every chance they got, attempting to see Twilight as she recovered. Word had spread through the ship about her display before Twilight had finished granting the seventh wish. Panic and worry had gripped the crew like a chill vice, Old Place almost inadvertently inciting a mutiny when she cried out that the Jonah had gotten the princess.

In a flash, Captain Hardy restored order with a single bellow of his great lungs. Explanations had followed rapidly. No, the princess hadn’t been struck down. Yes, she had performed magic. No, it wasn’t being stolen from her. She was granting wishes and doing her duty, as every mare and stallion aboard should very well mind and return to theirs. Rest, and the prayers of the ship would see her set right.

So the crew had set into the routine that had remained until the present.

Faust was already on deck, comfortably resting on her cushions, when Twilight staggered out of the great cabin. Bleary of eye and tangled of mane, the princess glanced up at the twinkling jewels high above, a line of gold in the east hugging the rim, and began to set her stars a full half-hour early with a great big yawn. Muttering the names of the officers she passed, Twilight made her way aft to where Faust smugly watched her niece.

“Feeling better?” Faust asked as she offered Twilight some tea and buttered bread.

“I feel like Canterlot fell on my head,” grumbled Twilight, taking the offered cup and sniffing the spicy fragrance.

“Yes, that will happen when you drain all your magic.” Faust gave a sage nod, a mischievous twinkle in the corner of one eye. “Do you want to talk about it? My little Lulu always had trouble sorting things out after granting one wish, and you did seven.”

“Seven... wishes?” Twilight stared into her tea, toast hovering a few inches from her mouth. Around another yawn she admitted, “I... don’t know...”

Twilight tried to think about the last thing she remembered, but stopped as the pain between her ears stabbed deeper and blossomed into her horn. Grunting, Twilight began to rub her temples trying to sooth the thrumming in her head.

“Don’t try to force it,” Faust admonished as she waved the steward over and ordered him to go down to the doctor’s cabin and retrieve Timely from whatever he was doing. “He’s probably dissecting a fish or albatross or doing something equally vile,” she grumbled under her breath as the steward vanished.

“Who?” Twilight asked as she finally took a bite of her toast, the crunch of her teeth on the bread sending a storm of a thousand needles deep into her brain. Biting her tongue to prevent herself from cursing, Twilight set the toast down and instead concentrated on her tea, downing it in a single gulp. When the scalding hot tea touched her tongue and throat, no such measures were effective. Her senses assaulted on all fronts, Twilight gave out the most vile swear she’d ever uttered, one so maleficent that nearby sailors blushed.

Had she not been erecting several mental blocks to sequester the pain, Twilight would have scurried to her cabin, a blush bright enough to light a moonless night on her cheeks. But she was preoccupied, her mood was beyond foul, and at that moment the doctor stepped onto the deck.

Before Timely could inquire about the request for his presence, a bosun’s mate stepped up to his side and whispered, “Beggin’ your pardon, Doctor, but be mighty careful about the Princess. She’s in a right tartan mood.”

‘She does look rather out of sorts,’ Timely thought to himself, thanking Bouncing Billy for the word of caution before stepping aft. “Good morning, your majesties,” he said in a soft voice, “You requested my presence.”

“There you are,” Faust gave a curt nod to the doctor. “My niece is in considerable pain from Aether Drain. Give her some of that wonderful Laudanum tonic.”

A deep, righteous scowl found a home on Timely’s face as he ignored Faust and went to Twilight. With a few words he got Twilight to sit still while he examined her properly; looking in her eyes, feeling the glands in the throat responsible for converting the energy generated by the heart into available aether to be stored in the horn. He refrained from using any scanning spell to help with a diagnosis, though such spells were hardly required.

“How full are your reserves would you estimate, Princess?” he asked part-way through the routine motions. If Timely had a bit for every time he had a patient suffering from magic exhaustion he could buy a respectable estate and retire. It was all too common for the unicorns in the crew to work themselves until they collapsed upon the deck, especially in foul weather.

“About one one hundredth of its maximum capacity, or a little under one point twenty-one giga-swirls of stored aether.”

“One point twenty-one giga-swirls!?” Timely gaped, quickly recovering his composure with a simple word, “Alicorns.”

From where she sat, Faust smirked. “I chose the Element of Magic well, I think.”

“And that is but a mere fraction of your full potential.” Timely shook his head, adding, “Celestia, I never could have imaged such a thing before. Now...” He clicked his tongue, shook his head a couple more times for good measure, and then returned to the task at hoof. “Now, as you know Princess, there is nothing I can do to help with this headache. There aren’t enough aether-potions in Canterlot to fill such an immense pool. No, ‘pool’ does not do your reserves justice. You truly are like the oceans; boundless and endless in scope. For the pain, all I can suggest is rest to help you replenish aether faster.”

“What, you aren’t going to give her some of those tinctures you keep plying upon me?”

Timely gave Faust a sour glance as he said, “Nay, madam, I will not. There isn’t a herb, balm, or pill that will touch an Aether Drain induced headache. Unless you count the aforementioned potions. But they simply serve the same function as sleep. No, what I have within my medicine chest would be like a mouse bite to an elder wyrm. Time and rest, time and rest, they are the only solution here.”

Twilight nodded very slowly, the motion so slight it was almost indistinguishable. She had already known what the doctor was saying. Early in her apprenticeship Twilight had been asked by Celestia to attempt to drain her reserves by simply releasing her magic in a controlled fashion. Her horn had blazed tall and bright, a pillar of eldritch energy, for what seemed like ages before Twilight had collapsed of exhaustion.

The doctor was wrong about one thing though, rest wasn’t Twilight’s only recourse. With practiced finality, she finished the partitions; the pain, and a few other sensory functions, on one side, her higher brain activity on the other. It wasn’t a permanent solution, but it would last long enough for the headache to fade naturally.

Unless something happened to overwhelm the mental blocks.

Like Celestia teleporting onto the ship in a bright flash and whip-crack of magic.

A sharp yelp burst from Twilight as the light stabbed deep into her eyes, blistering the temporary partition of her mind. The partition held, if only just, keeping at bay a greater flood of pain.

“Princess!” the crew cried.

“Celly?” Faust gasped.

“Ow!” Twilight shouted.

The crew reacted in a far less orderly manner, hooves stamping on the deck as sailors rushed about and officers bellowed for calm. More than a few prayed to Celestia, Faust, and especially Twilight. Order was only restored by a throaty roar of ‘Enough!’ Around the irate captain, ponies stood frozen, staring in wide eyed wonder between him and Princess Celestia as she touched down upon the poop deck.

“My apologies, Captain, for arriving so dramatically,” Celestia said. She gave Hardy a polite nod as he hurried aft. He swept his hat from his head as he skidded into a bow. “Events at home have required that I speak with my cousin, in private.”

“Understood, your majesty,” Hardy swept his hat back onto his head and made to return to the quarter deck.

“Oh, and please send for Lady dis Lis, Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie, Captain,” Celestia added.

“I’ll have it seen to right away,” he replied, turning to a fidgeting Fighting Spirit. “Spirit, have the ambassador and the princess' guests brought to Their Majesties. Also, if there is any of this nonsense about checking stays or looking for the cat, I’ll have the pony’s name.”

“Yes, sir,” Fighting Spirit snapped a crisp salute, hurrying off to perform the captain’s orders.

“Last commission I accept to ferry one of the princesses,” Hardy grumbled to himself as he returned to his pacing. “Far too many oddities for my taste. Trouble hangs over them like a cloud. Hmph.”

“So,” Celestia said as Hardy left and she turned to face Twilight and Faust. “How have you been, mother? Healing well, I hope?”

“Why yes, actually,” Faust bobbed her head. “A pleasant voyage by sea is just what the doctor ordered.” —Timely ‘harrumphed’— “It’s…. nice to see you, Celly.”

Letting out a sigh, Celestia gave her mane a shake. “Mother, what am I to do with you? If things weren’t on the precipice of chaos… We’ll have to have a long talk... later,” Celestia’s voice trailed off as she shook her head again, and fixed her eyes on Twilight. “But I came to speak with Twilight.”

Twilight’s eyes shrunk to pin-pricks as her mind tried to figure out why Celestia would teleport a quarter of the way across the disc to speak with her, only for it to run head-first into a wall of agony. Grunting, Twilight brought a hoof up to her throbbing temple.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Celestia smiled, lowering her horn to Twilight.

Hesitating, Twilight knew what Celestia was offering; some of her magic. She hesitated, breath catching in her throat at the sight of Celestia’s long, graceful horn so close to her. Unicorns, and by extension alicorns, could share their magic, but it was only done among those exceedingly close to each other. The trust required was absolute, as the receiving pony could take more than the other could give. Gulping down a lump in her throat at the offer, and spurred on by an especially sharp stab of pain, Twilight touched her horn to Celestia’s.

Fire. Celestia’s magic felt like she had jumped into a pit of fire. A swirling, boiling, angry inferno that seared even as it soothed.

The exchange was brief, just long enough that Twilight didn’t feel like Applejack had mistaken her head for an especially apple-laden tree. Both Celestia and Twilight breathed a little heavier as they broke the contact.

“Wow, that was… Thank you,” Twilight mumbled, her cheeks burning with an intense blush as she noticed Rainbow and Pinkie accompanying Fleur to the stern.

“It was nothing,” Celestia brushed off the exchange, a very faint smirk touching her lips.

“Ahhh, melnesse,” Faust cooed.

“Mother!” Celestia snapped, a blush of her own creeping onto her cheeks. “It is nothing like that, and you know it.”

“You’ll excuse me if I don’t fully believe you, and begin looking through some, what are they called… bridal magazines. Yes, those!”

Celestia ignored her mother, while Twilight blushed hot enough to melt stone, using a wing to hide her glowing cheeks.

“So, princess, what did you want to talk to me about?” Twilight asked when she no longer felt like a rock left in a fire. “It has something to do with the wishes, I’m guessing.”

“It does, yes.” Celestia gave a little nod. She signalled with a wing for Fleur, Rainbow and Pinkie to sit as the trio approached. Fleur carried a perplexed expression, while Rainbow rubbed sleep from her eyes. Pinkie was Pinkie, bouncing along with a wide grin and shining eyes. Celestia waited until they had found comfortable places, knowing that the news she was about to share would be hard to learn.

“Rarity has gone missing.”

“What? Missing?” Rainbow snapped, her wings extending and tail thrashing twice.

“Missing?” Pinkie cocked her head, big blue eyes blinking rapidly. “Is that what the tapping tail, pinchy nose, itchy back, and wiggling withers meant?” This was said more to herself as Pinkie began to rub her chin.

Twilight remained silent; her thoughts having stopped in mid-step.

“From what we’ve been able to deduce, she was being controlled by Serene at the time your star fell and the wishes began. Afterwards, she vanished. We’ve been unable to locate any trace of her.”

Twilight’s eyes shrank to pin-pricks again as the information sank deeper.

She’d sent Rarity, her best friend, to Gaea, with its monsters and beings terrible enough to force her counter-part to rip the veil between worlds to save her herd. A world, if Fleur’s dream journal was to be believed, that existed in an almost perpetual state of war and misery, where a pony’s life was practically worthless. She, Twilight, had sent Rarity there!

There was no question in Twilight’s mind as to what had transpired; she could recall the wish with absolute clarity now that her migraine was gone.

At once Twilight started to hyperventilate, her heart deciding to reside somewhere in her throat while also beating fast enough that her entire body shook.

Calming Twilight took the better part of an hour. The moment she started to settle, she thought again of Rarity and the process began to repeat itself.

“I… have a confession,” Fleur spoke softly as Twilight’s anxiety finally passed. “I have known for some time about Rarity and Serene.”

Twilight spun to Fleur, her mouth hanging open in abject shock. “You knew? You knew of this and didn’t tell us? Why?”

The Bellerophon trembled at the anger lacing Twilight’s voice, a livid fire burning in her eyes. Along the edges her mane began to lighten to a pinkish-orange, Twilight’s coat whitening as the air around her began to distort, like a mirage in the desert. Iris and pupil began to fade into a solid, bloody-red disc as Twilight took a slow step forward.

In the face of the princess’ rage, Fleur stood her ground.

“Because you could not help I, and she begged me to promise not to tell anypony.”

“Niece, calm yourself!” Faust snapped, rising to her unsteady hooves.

It was one of Celestia’s hooves pressing on her withers that broke through Twilight’s rage. “What’s done is done, Twilight,” Celestia said, bending low to extend a wing over her cousin’s trembling form.

“Yeah. Besides, if Rarity made Fleur promise not to tell anypony, what was she to do?” Pinkie asked in a chirpy voice.

“But… If we had known… Then I wouldn’t have… I wouldn’t have sent her ‘home’,” Twilight snapped, frustration building. “I sent her home, Pinkie. Or rather, this Serene. And that means Rarity is…”

Twilight’s voice broke into a wet, guilty sob, one that was muffled as Pinkie wrapped her in a deep hug.

“It’s going to be okay, Twilight,” Pinkie said, stroking Twilight’s mane.

“How can you know that?” Twilight asked, pulling away enough to look Pinkie in the eye.

What she saw was confidence and hope. A shining, twinkling beacon of hope.

“I just do. It could be a long, long, long, long, loooooooo…” Pinkie paused to inhale a gulp of air. “Oooong time, but I just know that we’ll see Rarity again. All of us. So it can’t be that long. Not long like how long you’ll live long, but still, pretty long.”

Pinkie ended with one of her typical massive grins. Sniffling a little, Twilight returned it with a much weaker smile.

“How is it you always know just how to cheer ponies up?”

“It’s a talent, silly.” Pinkie gave a nonchalant wave of her hoof.

Another set of hooves wrapped themselves around Twilight, and when she looked she saw Rainbow had joined her and Pinkie. The normally fearless pegasus had a haunted look etched onto her face, the beginning of tears coiling beneath her eyes. Rainbow said nothing, just pressed her head between her friends’. Eventually, she said in an unusually quiet voice, “I hope you’re right, Pinks.”

“Of course I am,” Pinkie said around a lopsided smile, her eyes sparkling like Twilight’s mane.

The three friends remained entangled in the hug for a few minutes more, taking comfort in the presence of the others. Eventually the hug was broken, Rainbow trying to hide her face as she scrubbed away her tears.

Turning back to Celestia, Twilight asked, “Do you want me to come back to Canterlot, then?”

“No,” Celestia replied. “I don’t think that would be the best idea. You need to do what you’re doing, and that is appearing normal and relatable. The other nations need to be calmed.”

“That’s a flimsy excuse, and you know it, princess,” Twilight pouted, rocking back onto her haunches to cross her forehooves. “That’s not as important as saving one of my best friends!”

“There are more immediate concerns than Rarity. She will have to fend for herself for now.” Sadness danced with regret across Celestia’s eyes. “This ‘Mr. Thunderbolt—”

“Zeus, dear,” Faust spoke up.

“—Zeus, is a far more pressing problem. He flattened a mountain, Twilight, trying to destroy mother.” Celestia paused so her words would sink in. “Worse, he isn’t alone.”

“I could help, if you’d let me.” Twilight protested, desperation edging her words.

“You are, Twilight, you are.” Celestia soothed. “You’re helping by making sure I don’t have to worry about you with a pair of angry alicorns about. Over the years you’ve faced many foes and challenges, but not like this. The closest would be Nightmare Moon. Discord was more a prankster, and while he is malicious, he’s not prone to violence. The changeling invasion was dangerous, yes, but Chrysalis was after food and slaves, not senseless slaughter. But when all these threats arrived, I knew you and Luna would pass through unscathed, because…”

Celestia prompted Twilight to finish her thought, which Twilight did begrudgingly.

“Because my first act as the Alicorn of the Stars and Wishes was to drag Luna back through time creating a stable time loop that couldn’t be broken,” Twilight grumbled.(1)

“Mm Hmm. These two alicorns, however, have shown they will not hesitate to use excessive force, and with your training incomplete… No, I want you here, where you are safe. If Cadence and Tyr weren’t traveling to the Crystal City in the next few days, I would order them from Canterlot. If it wouldn’t cause a panic among our little ponies, I’d have the whole city evacuated. Furthermore,” Celestia turned to address Faust, “Mother, I request you teach Twilight the Old Ways. She needs to learn how to defend herself, more than ever.”

Faust shrugged. “I was already planning on teaching her.”

Twilight sat, a little stunned, glance between Celestia and Faust. Two things circled in her mind; Celestia was far more afraid than she was letting on, and new magic! Filing the latter away for future celebration, Twilight worried for Celestia, and all of Canterlot.

“Now, is there any news or information you wish to share before I leave?” Celestia gave her mother a pointed look, one that yelled, ‘I know you know more than you let on, so spill it.’

“I’m pregnant.” Rainbow said, her normally boisterous and full voice cracking. As Celestia’s head whipped around, eyes widening almost imperceptibly, Rainbow continued, “With one of ‘them’. The alicorn, ghost, spirit, things.”

“I was unaware that was possible,” Celestia admitted, a slight frown wrinkling her forehead.

“Yeah, well, it is. Same thing has happened to AJ, too,” Rainbow snarled, her wings tensing.

Celestia sat still as a statue as she digested the information. Twilight watched, concern churning through her belly, as Celestia’s eyes flickered a couple times, almost like she was reading something, before the motherly half-smile she often wore took its customary place.

“Then that accounts for all but one of the alicorns.”

“Princess?” Twilight tilted her head.

“How do you know that?” Rainbow asked, one ear drooping.

“From Fluttershy, or rather, Artemis. Like Fleur, Fluttershy was host to the shade of an alicorn. Unlike Athena and Serene, Artemis was genuinely remorseful for her actions taking Fluttershy as a host. She shared freely as much information as she could about who was brought to our world by Astraea before departing and transferring all her power to Fluttershy.”

“So, I get to be pregnant, and ‘Shy and… her,” Rainbow jabbed a hoof at Fleur, “get to become an all-powerful Goddess?” Rainbow snorted. “How is that fair?”

“You get to be the mom of a goddess, Dashie, that is pretty cool.” Pinkie pointed out, reaching over to give her friend a big hug.

“I don’t want to be a mom, Pinks!” Rainbow brushed Pinkie’s hooves off and stormed off the poop deck and down into the cabins.

“But… being a mom is great. You get to change diapers, and see them walk for the first time. And… and… being a mom is great!” Pinkie called after Rainbow, her mane drooping a little.

“Let her go,” Fleur said to Pinkie as the latter started to follow her friend. “She doesn’t understand what we face.”

“I know,” Pinkie mumbled, her mane drooping a bit more, only to sproing back to life a moment later accompanied by a sharp gasp. “If every other pony has had a ghostly spookarific alicorn visit them, except me, and one more is out there…” Pinkie gave a little, happy giggle, clapping her hooves together.

“I know what you are thinking, Pinkie, but if she hasn’t come to you yet, it is unlikely that the last shade will be ‘visiting’ you anytime soon,” Celestia said, making her way to the railing, wings extending a little in preparation of flight.

“Awww, why am I the one left out?” Pinkie huffed.

“It is probably a good thing,” Twilight said, her thoughts having wandered to Fluttershy, and how her friend had to be dealing with being an alicorn. Fluttershy had to be so afraid and confused, Twilight figured. She wanted to teleport back to Ponyville and wrap her friend up in the biggest hug and tell her that everything would be okay.

Jumping over the back railing, wings catching the breeze with ease, Celestia gave Twilight one final look, saying, “You know how to contact me if there is need,” and then she was gone in a flash of golden magic.

No sooner had Celestia teleported than Twilight turned to Faust. She needed a distraction and to feel like she was doing something, and Twilight knew exactly what to use.

“Right, if we’re going to have a study session, we’re going to do this properly,” Twilight declared, a too-wide grin on her face and magic sparking from her horn.

The sparks coalesced and with a faint ‘pop’ hardly audible over the creaking of the ship, a large chalkboard and easel appeared, along with chalk, rulers, and other assorted implements.

Fleur gaped at the summoned objects, asking in a weak voice, “H-How did you conjure them so fast, mon amie?”

“I keep everything I need for studying in an easy to access pocket dimension,” Twilight casually replied, concentrating on creating a series of blocks on the board.

“But… the energy required to maintain such a spell…” Fleur trailed off, giving her head a little shake.

“It isn’t all that much. I mean, most of the magic required comes from creating the pocket in the first place, after that it’s just remembering the key, and that doesn’t take any energy at all,” Twilight replied as she finished the grid and began filling in times and activities. A few moments more and she’d completed her lesson timetable. “There!” She triumphantly exclaimed with a little squeal of delight. “Now I’m ready for you to teach me new spells, Aunt Faust.”

Faust turned away from Twilight to hide a private smile.

“There is little I need to teach you, Twilight,” she said at length. “You know most of what you need already.”

“Wait, what? But Celestia asked you to teach me the Old Ways. Also, teaching schedule!”

Twilight waved her hooves at the chalkboard, drawing a giggle from Pinkie. More so once the easel began to sliding across the rolling deck towards the railing. With a shuddering lurch, the Bellerophon sent chalkboard and easel over the railing, the pair landing with a ‘splat’ before drifting away to the sounds of Pinkie laughing as loudly as possible while she rolled onto her back, hooves kicking in the air.

Faust gave a smirk. “Yes. But the Old Ways are not normal spell formula. Besides, you already know practically every standard matrix that has ever existed.”

“S-She does?” Fleur gaped, taking a step back.

“No I don’t!” Twilight protested, a firm frown on her face.

“Sure you do. The stars know them, and you are the stars.” Faust’s smirk grew into a gentle smile. “You as an alicorn may not have yet been born, but part of you still watched the world. Many stars gazed down and guided wizards and sages as they explored the boundaries of magic. The Sage Star, Wizard Star, and War Star are all good ones to ask, depending on what spells you wish to access.” Twilight stared dumbfounded, along with Fleur. “Surely you had begun to wonder why, if your ‘special talent’ was the Stars and not Magic how you ‘learned’ new spells so quickly?”

“I... no, to be honest, I didn’t.” Twilight blushed and scoffed an embarrassed hoof.

“Really now?” Faust’s tone carried a distinct note of disappointment, making Twilight’s face and ears burn brighter. “Well, regardless, knowing a formula is only so useful. You still need to be able to use it effectively. Brute force is far more important than finesse if you encounter an alicorn who wishes to destroy you.” Faust gestured to the few remaining bandages around her barrel and legs. “I wish little Celly had taught you more about self-defence.”

“So, there aren’t any spells you can teach me?”

“There are a few I can teach you, such as the other five activation spells for the Elements of Harmony. You already know Laughter’s spell.” Glancing to the deck, Faust added, “I’ll teach you Loyalty’s in a bit. But the activation spells are just that; triggers to use specific aspects of my domain. It doesn’t really relate to what I need to teach you. Both of you.” Faust gave Fleur a significant look.

“You wish to teach moi?” Fleur took another step back, bumping against the railing. “I-I, but, why?”

“Because either you will overcome Athena, or you won’t, and nothing is lost either way.” Fleur grew quiet as Faust chuckled, then added, “I also believe that you have a role to play in what is to come. I can not fully see it, and I don’t know if it is even you, but when I look at the way the Weave is changing… Teaching you the Old Ways feels like the right action.”

“Okay, then what, exactly, are the ‘Old Ways’?” Twilight asked, wanting to get to the magic lessons as quickly as possible.

Smiling like a fox, Faust waved Twilight closer.

“Infusing your will upon the disc.”

Seeing Twilight give her a perplexed stare, Faust sighed before explaining.

“We’re goddesses, Twilight, and all of us are exceptionally powerful in our own rights. Imagine if you got into a fight, a real fight, with a being your equal in magic?” Twilight shuddered. “Exactly. Most spells are useless in such a fight regardless. Even the most resilient matrices simply can’t handle the amount of aether we can infuse into them, overloading the spell and causing a rather spectacular fizzle. Which is why Celly made Coronal Edge, which she supports with evocations. The spell matrices that are useful in such a fight are tied into our Domains. You’ll be able to hold those matrices together while pushing far more aether through them than they’d normally be able to contain. These are spells you have to discover, but I can set you down the path.

“So... Wait… We’re missing something…” Faust brought a hoof up to her chin. “Oh, I know! Pinkie, dear, you can start now.”

A little squee rippled across the deck, Twilight and Fleur turning to see Pinkie and Timely next to the far railing, a fiddle and cello in their hooves respectively. Nodding to each other, Timely began to pluck the cords of his instrument, creating a sound like raindrops falling into water. A moment later Pinkie put her bow to her fiddle, and the pair were off, creating a gentle cushion of music that surrounded the ship.

“You know about modern casting. How to make a matrix using runes, weaving them together and then filling them with aether. While excellent for doing very specific tasks, these matrices are more fragile than using the Old Ways.” Faust explained, slowly moving to the aft railing. “In the Old Ways, we use only the rune. There is no finesse involved, practically no crafting, simply the Rune and Power.”

Lowering her head to the Bellerophon’s wake, Faust brought a moderate amount of magic to the tip of her horn, wincing as a little snap of sparking aether flickered from the crack caused by her fight. Twilight saw a ruby circle with what looked to be a ‘less than’ math sign inside appear for a brief moment. It existed for less than half a blink, and then a thin stream of ruby flames shot from Faust’s horn into the ocean. Water instantly boiled, rising in a hissing steam around the magic flames.

Ending the spell, Faust turned back to her students, a proud smile touching her lips, though it was interrupted as her horn sparked again and she winced.

“That is ‘Kano’, a rune of Fire.”

Twilight was practically jittering with excitement as she looked from the ship’s wake, to her aunt, back to the wake, and then to her aunt again.

“This… this is amazing!” She gushed, turning to Fleur. A wide grin had found a home on Twilight’s face as she began to speak in a rapid-fire manner that even Pinkie had some trouble following. “Pure Rune magic! The professors always told us not to use pure rune magic as the aether costs are so exorbitant, and the spells so basic. I mean, that little flame probably used up a good three or four kiloswirls of energy! But that’s practically nothing for us! I mean, a megaswirl is small bits, so just imagine how much power we could put into such a spell! For regular unicorns that would be impossible, which is why all the really ancient spells were cast by cabals of unicorns. They needed to work in tandem because they didn’t have access to the amounts of aether needed alone.”

Twilight’s eyes grew wider and wider as she spoke. Her ears snapped fully upright, and in a jubilant giggle she spun to address Faust.

“This is really old spellcraft. Really, really old. Before the First Reformation even, and nopony knows when that happened!”

“Yes, the Old Ways predates the First Reformations,” Faust smirked. “The Reformations came about because of Lensing and—”

“Are you going to teach us Lensing?” Twilight clasped her hooves together.

“Lensing?” Fleur asked as she edged a little away from Twilight.

“Lensing is believed to have lead to the Second Reformations of magic back in the ancient era, around two thousand B.E. Our modern matrices are based on Lensing, but instead of binding the runes together, in lensing, one spell goes into the next rune, altering its properties, but drawing on even more aether. Which is unsustainable for a lone caster, and even a trained cabal would have difficulties and why matrices eventually came about, because they are so much more efficient and precise, though trickier. You can’t just put any two runes together to make a matrix, after all. But that isn’t a problem normally because of cutie marks and how unicorns instinctually learn new matrices thematically similar to their marks! Additionally, a matrix can be used to make a Glyph, like the ones that are throughout the Bellerophon, and Canterlot Castle. Another advantage of matrices is that they can last after aether is being applied, which gives us Enchantments. Oh, this is so exciting!”

“Yes,” Faust bit back a giggle. “Lensing is part of the Old Ways. But please, some patience. There is a lot to cover.”

Twilight bounced into the air with a whoop of joy.

And the Bellerophon sailed on, a mostly happy ship.

* * *

A warm breeze, filled with bugs the size of hummingbirds and the hot breath of summer, filtered through the towering trees of the Taiga. The insects were the only signs of life within the forest. Not a bird chirped, not a wolf hunted, and not a squirrel foraged. All was silent, if not for the buzz of wings and the rustle of leaves.

Death had come to the Taiga, and not for the first time.

The air grew heavy with decay towards the north, a foul, putrid stench cloying in the noses of the few Halla brave enough to enter the cursed section of the elder forest. A sickness was spreading, one thought defeated many years before. Even the terrible vargr —dire wolves spawned from the darkest nightmares— avoided the silent woods, the packs moving south and prowling outside the homesteads and six vales, stealing the unwary that ventured beyond the towns’ walls.

Only one explanation could be devised among the Halla elders; the Queen had fallen once more to darkness and despair. They’d failed in the sacred duty, again.

Not all the Halla believed that Iridia had fallen. This was not the first time the Taiga had become shrouded in an evil viel. It had been thirty years since the Spring of Sorrows, when nearly three quarters of the foals had been stillborn, their lives stolen before they could begin by an entity known only as the Blighted One. If it hadn’t been for Iridia, none of the foals would have lived.

It had been the queen’s warning that had been their saving grace, and lead to the rediscovery of the ancient vales containing the first trees. Each housed a different type tree; Cherry, Apple, Fir, Sycamore, Poplar, and Elm.

Since Iridia’s release, these vales had become home to those loyal to her, that looked to her for guidance and leadership even while the elders in the old homesteads sought to imprison her inside a gilded cage. That Iridia had been content in her prison galled the Reformationists.

Fearing this new blight was the Queen’s doing, the elders had called a Great Gathering, summoning all the Halla to Reinalla.

But not all answered the call.

The Bears and Ravens, both lodges predominantly loyal to the queen, had refused the call, as had the herds living in and near the vales.

The Halla, united in purpose their entire history, had become divided. On one side were the Traditionalists. They controlled the old homesteads and were supported by four of the great Lodges —Fox, minstrels and bards; Badger, crafters and tradesworkers; Owl, historians and keepers of traditions; and Eagle, the leaders and guides— used to organise Halla society. The Reformationists formed the other, and were far fewer in numbers, barely a tenth the Halla population. Warriors and Mages respectively, the Bears and Ravens were incensed at what they saw as the blindness infecting the Halla. Wolf Lodge remained above the dispute, seeing to their duty to raise the foals within the créches.

And so, the Traditionalists were the bulk of the Halla, while the Reformationists contained the martial might and magic, creating an uneasy balance.

Having ignored the summons, each vale selected two members, the greatest of their warriors or mages, to find the source of the newest blight, and destroy it.

From Elm Vale came Black Briar and Fallen Nest, both masters of the longbow and axe.

As their champions, Poplar Vale sent masters Broken Blade and Evergreen Rot, their most experienced trackers.

Sycamore Vale chose the mighty Thundering Mountain and Whispering Brook. A great brute, Mountain was the berserker, while the slight Whispering was agile and fast.

Agate Ruse and Jade Eye hailed from Fir Vale. Jack-of-all-trades, they were neither exceptional in any area, nor terrible, mixing defensive magic with traditional Halla battle techniques of charging with their blade covered antlers.

The only battle-mages in the company hailed from Apple Vale. Little Hoof and Split Tongue both eschewed the typical armour and weapons of Bears in favour of robes.

But none of the others were as storied nor renowned as those from Cherry Vale. Bounding Vixen and River Sparkle, the only foals of the Queen’s champions. River was known by another name as well; the White Hind, bearer of winter’s wrath, Llallawynn.

The twelve Halla bounded through the still forest. They didn’t stop to drink or eat, only to rest at night for a few hours before moving onwards. Their destination, so far to the north it was almost at the disc’s edge, was the First Vale, the hiding place of the very first tree to grow upon Ioka; Yggdrasil, the World Tree.

As night claimed the disc, and the stars began to dance, the company took refuge in the burnt remains of an ancient fortress. Taking first watch with her foal-hood friend, Bounding Vixen, River Sparkle watched the stars, a little smile touching her lips.

Stepping up to her side, Vixen offered River a canteen filled with water taken from the magical pools within the hidden vales. A sip of the water was enough to quench any thirst. The water was far from the greatest boon granted by the vales.

“The stars have started dancing again,” Vixen noted as he capped his canteen.

River shrugged, her shoulders rolling beneath her armour.

“Means little to me.”

Vixen was quiet a few moments before speaking again. “Do you think the Eagles truly will reform the Eternal Herd and march on the ponies?”

“How should I know what goes on in their piss soaked heads?”

Chuckling, Vixen smirked at his foal-hood friend through the corner of his eye.

“You spent time being groomed to be an Eagle. You must have some idea.”

Grumbling to herself for a second, River turned to Vixen. “No, Vix, I don’t. They just wanted to mold me into a little tool they could use to bring the ‘misguided’ herds back under their hooves. The Eagles can all rot in Tartarus for all I care.”

“They aren’t all bad—”

“Their time is almost over, Vix. Soon they’ll be nothing but a hoof-note in the Owl’s books alongside the Lion Lodge. Her Majesty will return and cast those pretenders down. They are just afraid of losing their power.”

Before Vixen could form a response, River silenced him with a raised hoof and stern glance.

“You feel that?”

Vixen looked up to the canopy then down to the stone underhoof. The ruined fortress trembled, and through the gaps in the walls, they could see a cluster of flickering, orange lights. They came to the same conclusion.

“Giants!” the pair growled.

“Warn the others,” snarled River, slipping through the night and into the forest.

Her hooves making not a whisper, she found a safe vantage point to observe both the fortress and giants.

They were hulking monstrosities, walking on only two legs like wyrmlings. Their faces were grotesque, misshapen things with bulbous noses and covered in lumpy boils. Relatively tiny eyes peered out beneath eyebrows as large as bushes. Pale, slate grey skin shone beneath patchy hair, each strand as thick as a Halla’s leg.

Hairy knuckles dragged along the ground, occasionally rising to brush a tree aside as if it were a stalk of grass. A few held uprooted trees as clubs, resting the weapons on broad shoulders. The giants wore clothes stitched together from whatever could be scrounged from the forest. River felt her temper rise as she recognised the pelts of Halla, and even a few brighter colours that had to have come from ponies. No other equine race had lime green, purple, or blue coats. Several of the giants wore cobbled together armour, cold forged plates protecting the belly and legs, while flabby, pale chests were left bare.

In the middle of the group of giants were youngsters and children, some no taller than saplings. They laughed and thundered around their parents’ trunk-like legs.

Earth and forest trembled and shook as the giants strode northward.

River counted thirty of the monsters before the final one disappeared deeper into the forest.

“What are mountain giants doing this far north?” Vixen asked, coming out of his hiding place.

“It’s not our concern,” River gave her head a shake before staring at the path of destruction the giants left. “Split, send a warning to any nearby herds. Maybe they can form a hunting party. We need to continue to the tree.”

Waiting only long enough for Split Tongue to summon several ghostly ravens and whisper their instructions, the company set off again. For a week they moved, barely resting, driven relentlessly northward towards the edge of the disc. Along the Skeena river they traveled, using her banks as a road before crossing the Lonely Sisters, three mountains separated by wide valleys and lakes, to enter the region of the Taiga known as the Dead Wood. A vast stretch of burnt hills, the Dead Wood had been home to a forest dragon many years before. The beast was long gone, either slain or having found a new home; the Halla didn’t care which. For two days they were surrounded by the skeletons of trees, and their hooves sunk to the fetlock in ash, before they emerged back into a living forest.

As the ninth dusk shrouded the sky, the forest, silent and still for many leagues, was filled with a dreadful noise. The trees were whispering. Branches moved of their own accord, entangling themselves into a thorny fence.

“The Taiga herself is rejecting our presence,” Evergreen hissed, her eyes darting from shadow to shadow.

“Not the forest,” River corrected. “There is something else here.”

Slowing to a trot, the company readied their weapons and spells, eyes fixed with a hard gleam.

Clouds hid the moon, throwing the Taiga into absolute darkness. A darkness only broken by the flicker of magic along Halla horns. Mountain snorted, his breath a dancing white cloud illuminated by his magic. Fallen’s bow was taught, her axe hovering at her side.

“This darkness is not natural,” Hoof whispered, the mage turning in a tight circle to peer back along the path they had come.

At the head of the company, Broken came to a sharp stop, her heart leaping into her throat. There, so close she could smell the stench of decay on his breath, was a vargr. Hopping backwards, Broken hurled a dagger, the blade gleaming silver, green, and blue.

“Vargr!” She shouted, readying a second and third dagger as her first found the beasts throat and sunk to the hilt in his flesh.

Expecting an ambush, the company closed ranks. No dire wolves leapt from the night, and no sounds or movement came from the one struck. The reason was revealed as the clouds parted and Selene’s light shone upon a ghastly scene.

On all sides of the company were vargr —all dead. Their twisted bodies held in the limbs of trees, legs snapped and necks wretched into impossible shapes. Unseeing eyes bulged from the vargr’s sockets, their limp tongues hanging from their mouths. The stench of decay, as if waiting for the scene to be revealed, washed over the halla in a putrid wave.

“By Iridia’s mane,” Jade and Briar said at the same time, lowering their weapons. “What did this to them?”

“There are tracks here,” Evergreen stated, having moved closer to the dead vargr. “Halla tracks… Four individuals… A hind and three younglings.” Evergreen turned this way and that, narrowed eyes peering into the murk, her ears scanning for the slightest sound. “This way,” she stated, taking the lead.

A few yards away they found the remains of the hind.

“May the Queen guide you to a better life, small mother,” River whispered as the company passed.

Crying drew them away from the body and to a small row of thorny bushes. A rustle from within made the company halt, and again raise their weapons. Held high in a gentle white aura, River’s blade, Llallawynn, began to glow a ghostly silver. She licked her lips, a nod telling the other to spread out and encircle the bushes. A second nod sent the company forward, pouncing on the bushes, ripping them out and dragging into the moonlight what lay within.

Foals, screaming in fear, tumbled down in front of River.

Sighing in relief or chuckling away tension, the company finally sheathing blade or extinguishing magic. Only River stayed on edge, her eyes turning from the foals to the surrounding woods.

“Look at us,” Mountain rumbled, his large chest heaving with laughter. “Afraid of three small fries. There there, tiny-ones, nothing can harm you now.”

“Mountain, be silent,” River hissed, turning, looking, waiting. There was something else in the forest. The trees still whispered, their voices growing shrill and fearful. Not glancing at the foals, River said, “Younglings, where is your herd?”

Sniffling and trembling, the three foals just stared up at her with blank eyes.

“They are traumatized,” Fallen snorted, “we’ll get nothing from them.”

“What do we do?” Split asked, clicking her tongue as she gazed down on the foals in sympathy.

“We can not spare the time to find their herd, assuming what found the vargr didn’t find them.” Briar pointed out.

Snorting, Mountain thrust his face into Briar’s, forcing the far smaller halla back. “You would propose we abandon foals? Pitiful! What kind of Bear are you?”

“Three younglings… alone… with only one guardian? And she’s not even a Wolf?” Briar shook his head. “Their herd is gone.”

“But to abandon them?” Evergreen snarled, crossing the distance between her and Briar, joining Mountain in leering at the archer.

In a low, distant voice, one of the foals spoke. “She said she’d protect us… protect us from the monsters…”

“She did, younglings, she protected you.” Vixen stepped between the foals and the dead hind. “Whatever she—”

“We are not alone…” River hissed, interrupting Vixen.

The sound of great wings flapping broke the silence. A shadow, darker than the night, sped across the company. Through the trees, River caught sight of a great, glowing eye and teeth like swords.

“Dragon…” She said in a breathless voice, then louder, “Dragon!”

Wood shattered and the earth trembled as the great beast landed. A head, large as a wagon and darker than the night surrounding it, lifted above the Halla, a fiery rumble filling their ears. Without sharing words, the company formed a line, their eyes hard as flint and hearts filled with determination. Behind them, the foals clutched each other tight, their cries filling the night.

“You are brave,” the dragon laughed, his voice terrible as the crack of thunder. “Brave to stand before Draco, the Star Dragon!”

He unfurled his wings, stars and nebula flickering across his scales. River noticed a barely healed wound on the dragon’s chest, one that spilled little tendrils of starlight. Still laughing, Draco took a seat, bringing his talons to his chin in thought.

“What brings you so close to the Edge?”

Licking her lips, River took a step toward the beast. “My Lord,” she began, her voice without the tremor of fear. “We are investigating the sickness that has infected the Taiga.”

“What chance, so am I.” Draco turned his head this way and that, chuffing the air over his forked tongue. “I was on my way home after meeting your Princess—”

“The Halla have no Princess,” Mountain interjected with a snort.

Draco gave the Halla a withering glare. “It is rude to interrupt another. Also, you are wrong. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard of Twilight Sparkle, Princess of the Taiga, and Goddess of the Stars?”

River stood straighter at the name, her mouth forming a hard line. A few of the other Halla cast quick glances her way. Draco either didn’t notice or care.

“We have not,” Ruse replied slowly, obviously mulling over the new information.

Rolling his colossal shoulders, Draco gave a deep huff.

“Doesn’t matter, I suppose.” Chuffing the air again, Draco frowned. “She is half-way across the disc… Which makes this all the more curious.”

“What is, my Lord?” River asked, shaking off the shock of the princess’ name.

“This magic filling the forest… it is… familiar…” Draco’s lips pulled back into a snarl. “But it cannot be. Twilight passed the test…”

River’s ears flicked from the dragon to the woods, and the whispering. It was growing louder. The foals had ceased their sniveling and sat, staring off to one side, glassy eyes peering past the shadows. Within the gloom something moved, a fog leaking through bramble and branch; a boiling, purple fog.

“Impossible…” Draco whispered, his head whipping back and his wings unfurling as the fog began to take equine shape.

“Protect the little ones…” hissed the fog. It was as the fog’s voice, so cold it was like a thousand winter winds, touched her ear that River realised it hadn’t been the trees whispering. “I must protect them…”

“Take the foals!” Draco roared even as he opened his mouth, black fire erupting around his teeth. Harmless as the caress of a feather, the black fire washed across the shade. “Take them and run!” He repeated as he dove towards fog, all snapping teeth and lashing talons.

“We are Bears, we do not flee!” Mountain yelled, charging the fog, antlers lowered, lips pulled back to reveal his own teeth, so white in the dark. At his side he was joined by the remainder of the company save River.

A howl exploded from the fog, the creature rushing to meet the attack. An inky tendril coiled around Mountain’s neck, lifting him high and flinging through the brush. It slithered past the others before hurling itself upon Draco. The dragon roared in pain and fear as the fog dug at his scales. His tail thrashed back and forth, snapping ancient trees as if they were twigs. Up and up the fog climbed, encircling Draco’s head before flowing down his mouth and nose, into his eyes and ears. All at once, Draco ceased moving, a talon held mid-swipe. The glow left his eyes, then returned, a vile purple light spilling like tears down his muzzle.

Draco convulsed once, twice, then thrice, his mighty feet stamping upon the earth. The convulsions stopped, the fog flowing out of the dragon and hovering in the air before his muzzle. Whispering something in a black tongue, the fog pointed down at the gathered Halla, Draco’s head slowly moving to follow.

“My Lord?” River’s voice was cold as the steel of her blade as she set herself into a protective stance above the three trembling foals.

Drawn to her voice, the fog shot to the ground, impacting in front of River where it rose up, taking equine form.

“They are mine to protect!” the fog spat, advancing on River as Draco fell upon the company in a cascade of stars and talons.

The masters reacted as one, leaping around Draco’s legs and striking him with magic and blade. Racing along his side, Fallen loosed arrow after arrow into Draco’s armoured hide.

“A mother knows best…” continued the fog, ignoring the battle raging behind her. Slowly she began to circle River and the sobbing foals. “I protected them… I did… I sent the bad snarling things away…”

“You killed the vargr? You’re what’s making the forest sick?”

“Sick? No… It’s too dangerous here. Too many bad things that take the foals. I must protect them. I’m a mother, and mothers protect foals.” The fog paused, cocking her head to one side. “You are familiar. Why are you familiar?” The fog lifted its ‘hooves’, placing them on her head as it began to tremble and shake. “You smell like her! You smell like the one who took her away!”

In a whirling rush of magic and spite, the fog lunged at River. Llallawynn lashed out, piercing the fog, sinking deep into its ‘breast’. An inequine shriek tore across River, the fog retreating back into the air, leaking a trail of glittering dust from the wound.

At the same moment, Draco roared, attempting to strike Whispering. The lithe Bear sprang between his talons, sinking twin kukri knives into the joints where talon met paw. Twisting his head around, Draco tracked the Bear as she rejoined her companions. Black fire spilled around his teeth as he filled his fire-sack and readied his most potent weapon.

“Jade! Shield!” Ruse bellowed across the tremendous din.

His friend nodded once, their antlers flashing with magic. A golden dome of energy formed above the company just in time to catch the flames. Sweat pricked the hides of all the Halla as the grass and trees outside the barrier were turned to ash and memories. Snarling in a mad rage, Draco raised a talon. With a great report, like the ringing of a bell, the shield was struck. Cracks formed along its length as Draco slammed his tail upon it next.

Jade let out a cry, falling to her knees. She watched as Draco lifted his tail for a final blow. It was almost the last thing she saw. The shield could not hold, the dragon’s tail shattering it like crystal, and falling towards the exhausted hind. Jade expected her next sight would be the golden fields of Elysium. Instead she felt a blow on her side, flinging her out of the tail’s path. Looking back, she saw only the shattered remains of her savior.

“Briar!” Fallen screamed the name, tears streaming down her eyes as her bow continued its song.

Letting out a throaty warcry, Mountain burst from a bush. In a single motion, he threw aside his armour. Mountain’s scar covered hide bulged as he charged Draco, wrapping his forelegs around the star-dragon’s tail. His hooves sank into the earth as he began to pull Draco backwards.

Lightning crackling from their horns, Split and Hoof drew the dragon’s attention away from the grief-mad hind and beserker. Jumping onto their back hooves, they brought their forehooves down, channeling their magic into the ground as Draco lunged. Mountain dug furrows with his hooves as he continued to hold onto Draco’s tail.  A geyser of stone struck Draco upon the chin, shattering into a rain of sharp pebbles. His teeth sunk into Split, lifting the Raven as she let out a wet scream. Rolling his head back, Draco swallowed her whole.

“Fall back!” River ordered, spinning while reaching out to pick up the trembling foals. The trio screamed as they felt her magic shroud them.

Draco’s eye snapped towards the noise, an angry boom working its way from his chest around his tongue. Mouth gaping wide, his head came down, teeth sinking into the soil around the foals.

“No!” River yelled, skidding to a halt as she watched Draco spread his wings and took to the sky, bits of earth falling from his mouth and Mountain dangling from his tail.

Flicking his tail, Draco sent Mountain crashing back to the ground. Screaming louder still, the foals clutched at the dragon’s teeth as if they were prison bars. Circling once, the fog grabbing hold of his horns, Draco flew off to the north.

All at once a sullen silence settled back up the forest.

“What now?” Vixen asked, breathing heavily as he stepped towards River.

“We continue as planned,” River spat. “We will mourn our dead later.”

No time was spent on words for the dead. No graves dug, nor monuments left to give remembrance. They were simply left to feed the forest, as was Bear tradition. Twelve had become ten. The survivors would remember their friends and companions through deed, and ensuring that their deaths would not have been in vain.

* * *

“Baltimare? Where in Tartarus is Baltimare?” Shyara muttered as she twisted and turned the map in her hooves.

The map had proved useless, being as it was older than Shyara and didn’t contain any of the rail lines. Toss in the hundreds of towns, villages, and cities in Equestria, and not only was it useless, it was confusing. All Shyara knew was that she was in a coastal city.

From the train’s window she could see what looked like a forest out on a shining blue bay. Shyara had seen fleets of ships before, Alnyxandria had been home to almost a hundred when she’d visited the burgeoning city. Those ships had been galleys, however. Low, sleek, with only a couple short masts, and hundreds of oars. The ships in the bay were nothing like galleys. Shyara couldn’t see where the oars would go. Their masts were far taller, as were their sides, with an intricate maze of ropes and cords creating a sort of net. Equestrian ships would be impossible for the pegasi soldiers to use as war platforms.

Then again, Equestria didn’t seem to know much about war at all. Shyara felt this was probably a good thing. Still, the mental image of a hundred war-galleys, brimming with pegasi and heroes, descending on the large, anchored things in the harbour made its way through her mind, forcing a little shudder up her back.

Shifting her gaze from the harbour, Shyara took in the city. Red brick houses with tile roofs surrounded the bay. Government and administrative buildings were centered near the quays, while the richer homes were built along the northern side.  Baltimare was a little smaller than Vanhoover, but not much.

“Time to get off the train, miss,” the conductor said, his voice at Shyara’s shoulder making the filly jump.

“But, I got a ticket for Canterlot, and this isn’t Canterlot!” Shyara protested, waving her hooves at the window and the harbour city.

“‘Course it ain’t, this is Baltimare,” chuckled the old stallion as he tipped his hat back. “The train to Canterlot is boarding on platform four.” Chuckling again, he helped Shyara with her bags and led her off the train.

The platform was awash in a sea of ponies, all jostling with each other or pushing trolleys covered in baggage. Looking up, Shyara spotted a sign with an odd rising squiggle next to an arrow with the letter 1, 2, and 4 beside it. The ends of the sign had a big 3 painted in white. Following the arrow, Shyara found a set of stairs that lead to a walkway that was perched above the trains. At the top of the walkway, Shyara looked around but couldn’t find anymore signs except one for the platform she’d just come from.

Sighing, Shyara sat down, looking left and right, at a loss as to where to go. All at once, a heavy, overwhelming feeling pressed down on her, dragging down wings and heart, while making her throat clench.

She’d been such a fool, Shyara growled internally. Getting on a train alone with no idea where she was going, or what to do once she got there. All she had was ‘Canterlot’ and ‘Find Celestia and hope she doesn’t smite me’.

Why did she have to be so small? It wasn’t fair! She was a Goddess. She wasn’t supposed to be an almost helpless filly. Power and grace were her right. Scrabbling her hooves over her face, she pushed the feelings back down.

Had she been able to, Shyara would have wept. But the tears of a goddess were shed only for truly important things, and held power. What that power was depended on the goddess who shed them. Shyara wondered what her tears would be capable of doing.

The thought was able to break her out of her anxiety long enough to hear a pony addressing her. Well, Shyara assumed it was her. She didn’t see any other fillies alone on the platform.

“You alright, deary?” a pink mare in a long, red jacket asked. A sea-shell clasp held the jacket closed, frilly lace springing out from collar and cuffs, while a matching hat was perched atop her head. A feather, soft purple in tone, was thrust into the hat’s white trim, complementing her two toned mane and tail of amethyst and violet.

Behind the mare, a burly stallion, his advanced years showing in the slightly hanging jowls of his neck and rolls on his sides, followed her. Through the straw hat he wore shone the light of magic, a light echoed around two trolleys heaped with trunks and a couple travel bags.

“I’m fine,” Shyara lied, putting on her bravest smile. “Just a little lost. You wouldn’t happen to know which way to Platform Four, would you?”

“Sure as sugar I do, deary. We’re headed there ourselves, too.” The mare gave a jolly laugh, then looked around. “But where are your parents or family? You get separated from them?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

The mare waited for Shyara to elaborate, and when she didn’t, shrugged and said, “Well, that ain’t good. Not at all. Fillies shouldn’t travel alone. Ain’t that right, dear?” This last was asked to the stallion, who gave a quick nod and several different agreements. “Why don’t you come with us, deary? We’ll make sure you get to the train, and have you settled in no time. Shake a leg, love, I want everything squared away, shipshape and Bristol fashion by the next bell.”

Shyara hummed for a few moments. She didn’t see why not. The mortals were heading there as well, and there was something about the mare, a presence about her that Shyara had only felt from Trixie since arriving on Ioka. It wasn’t like being near another alicorn, nothing alike at all. It was simply comforting, telling Shyara she had nothing to fear from this pony. This was a mare that could be trusted to keep and protect secrets.

“Okay,” Shyara said as she slung her saddle-bags.

The trio made their way towards the final platform at the station, the mare cutting through the crowd with practiced ease. At the train, the luggage was left with an attendant, while the stallion carried the two travel cases, and a third, long and slender wrapped bundle into the passenger car.

“You have a cabin, right?” The mare asked as they made their way back to the sleeping cars.

“A what?” Shyara answered with confusion.

“You did get a sleeping cabin, didn’t you?” The mare lifted a brow as she looked back.

“I didn’t know I needed to get one.”

“This won’t do,” the stallion grunted from his place at the back of the short line. “It’s three days to Canterlot.”

It was now Shyara’s turn to lift a brow. “I never said I was going to Canterlot.”

“You didn’t need to deary.” The mare stopped and tapped Shyara just before the horn. “The way you carry yourself and hold your chin tells me you are nobility. If you were running away you’d be making your way to the docks to find a captain that would take you on as a midshipmare. No, you’re not running away from something, but to it. You have that look to your eye. A frightened resolve, like you don’t know what you’re going to find, only that you have no other choice. Also, the conductor mentioned your destination when you showed him your ticket.”

“Oh, yeah.” Shyara blushed, her silvery cheeks turning a dark mulberry colour. “So, where are you headed then?” Shyara asked, trailing the mare into her compartment.

“Ponyville, deary.”

Ponyville: the name struck a cord. Trixie had spoken of the town in, well, not bad terms, but not positive either. Dangerous, was how Trixie had described it. Plus, it was where the pretender had been living when she’d ascended. The papers Shyara had read had gone on for weeks about ‘Princess Twilight’. It made Shyara’s temperature rise just thinking of the pretender. Stealing her mother’s stars. It was wrong, and she’d get what was coming to her.

“Don'cha know it’s home to the Elements of Harmony?”

“Yeah.” Shyara had heard a lot about the Elements of Harmony from Trixie, mostly about Twilight ‘Cousin of the Princess and had everything given to her on a golden platter’ Sparkle. Especially whenever the wagon would get stuck or the crowds would be small during the show. Shyara almost commented on the things she’d been told, but a little whisper told her to keep quiet, so she did.

“Yeppers,” the stallion chuckled as he attempted to put the carry-on luggage into overhead compartments, adding Shyara’s to theirs. “Our eldest is one. An Element of Harmony that is.”

“You’re the Sparkles?” Shyara quirked her brow, jumping up onto a bench.

“Ha-ha, oh no, deary,” the mare laughed with her entire body, eyes crinkling in mirth. “We ain’t nobles. Our eldest, however, is a Lady of the Court, which is kind of like being a noble. Oh, tar my fur and toss me over the side tied to a sounding line, we never introduced ourselves, did we?”

At Shyara’s negative shake of her head, the pair introduced themselves.

“Name’s Bonnie Belle, and this is my husband, Magnum.” Magnum hardly gave a sign of acknowledgment as he struggled to get the few bags put away, shoving more and resulting to muttered curses at the obstinate and awkward things. “Here, dear, let me. You never were good at stowing gear.” Bonnie pushed Magnum down onto the other bench, the stallion most certainly not pouting as his wife whipped all the bags out, rearranged them in mid-air, then slotted them perfectly away, the little door closing with a soft ‘click’. Taking a seat on the bench opposite Shyara, Bonnie asked, “What’s your name then, deary?”

“Shy Spell,” Shyara said without hesitation, the name second nature.

“Kinda like Fluttershy, eh, love?” Magnum chuckled and poked Bonnie a couple time in the side with his elbow.

“Sush dear, they ain’t related...” Bonnie began to admonish her husband, then fixed Shyara with a piercing gaze. “Are you?”

“No, I can say with certainty I am not,” Shyara gave a little sigh as her thoughts were inevitably turned to her missing family by the question.

Great-Aunt Aphrodite had asked her about the others, which meant they weren’t on Gaea. Serene had been inside Rarity. What if all the other adults were the same? Bereft of their own bodies, wandering Ioka aimlessly, or stealing the destinies of mortals.

Shyara remembered well the lessons on dying as an alicorn. First off, it wasn’t truly dying, since alicorns could not enter Elysium, and without their physical shell, even Tartarus is inaccessible. Destroying the body of an alicorn wasn’t also necessarily the end of an alicorn. Zeus had been known to ‘kill’ alicorns as punishment. It was rare, but not unusual either. During the war, everypony had anticipated Zeus using such punishment again. When it hadn’t happened, and Zeus seemed to be missing entirely, it had become clear that this time things were different.

Of course, it was possible to utterly destroy an alicorn.

Until the war this had only happened once; when Nightstallion Anarchy had destroyed Helios, God of the Sun, casting his essence back into the Far Realms, where in time it could coalesce and become a new alicorn. But it would not be Helios. It might not even be an alicorn of a Sun. Aunt Hemera had taken Helios place, extending her duties as the Goddess of the Day and Light to encompass guiding Gaea’s sun.

Dozens had fallen during the war, mostly lesser alicorns; though a few greater alicorns had fallen as well, like Uncles Apollo and Hermes. Shyara shuddered as the memory of Ares standing over her mother invaded her waking mind. Would Ares have destroyed them as well? The only answer Shyara had was, ‘yes’. Ares was the God of Slaughter, what else would he have done?

Even if he didn’t destroy them, they’d have become shades... like Aunt Serene...

Shyara shivered despite the June heat, running her hooves along her legs as she finally realised the truth; she and Tyr were the last of the Alicorns of Light. Well, there was also her grandmother, great-aunts, and She-With-No-Name. If Shyara and Tyr had survived Astraea’s spell, then little nameless must have as well. Not that the nameless one mattered.

Cousin Athena claimed that her father was Persus, but Shyara knew that was a lie.

“You okay there?” Bonnie’s voice broke Shyara out of her thoughts and back to the waking world.

Around them the train clattered down the tracks, and through the window trees whizzed past. Magnum had fallen asleep, his head lolling over the side of the bench, a thin trickle of drool hanging from the corner of his mouth.

“I’m okay, I was just...” Shyara finished her statement with a shrug, not sure exactly what to say.

“Thinking of home?”

“How could you tell?”

“You have a look I’ve seen a thousand times, deary.” Bonnie tapped her hoof a couple times as she gave a low laugh. “I’m a sea merchant by trade, and I see that same look every time I gaze into my mirror when leaving port. You’ve lost ponies, ain’t you?”

Shyara felt her throat clench, her jaw tensing as a wave of worry wormed its way through her weary heart. Blue and silver flashed before Shyara’s eyes, and she wished she were able to cry.

“Her name is Trixie,” Shyara whispered when her throat and jaw could again move. “I made a mistake, and lost her.” Her thoughts grew distant, haunted, as she spoke, and the next few words came out in a choked sob. “She... was a friend. My only friend. At first she was just some mor… pony, to hide behind, a shield in case… somepony came looking for me... Over time though...” With a sharp jerk of her head, Shyara shook off the memories and feelings. Forcefully, she pushed them back down. Dwelling on Trixie and her fate did no good.

“It’s okay to cry, don’t you know?” Bonnie said, switching benches to give Shyara a simple hug.

“If I could, I would,” Shyara grumbled, hiding her words behind crossed hooves.

Just as she was about to blow everything she’d said off, a low growl from her belly reminded Shyara that it had been a long time since she’d last eaten.

“Well now, that is a sound I know all too well,” Bonnie laughed. Hopping off the bench and waving for Shyara to follow her, she lead the way to the dining car.  Making their way through the smoking car, Bonnie kept up a light stream of conversation.

On the other side of the smoking car, so named as it was where the gentry and nobility went to smoke and play cards, was the dining car. Near the front of the train, the dining car was separated from the engine by the kitchen car, baggage car and coal car. The dining car had a small bar tucked along the front, with several smallish booths for eating. Only one of the tables was open, so Bonnie and Shyara naturally went to it. They’d barely taken a seat when a waiter appeared, offering them menus and suggesting something called creme brulee on honeyed toast.

Shyara had learned a little about the value of an Equestrian bit. The few times she and Trixie had eaten at a restaurant the food had cost no more than three bits. She saw nothing on the menu provided by a mustached waiter that cost less than twelve bits. Likewise, the names were all in some other language. At least there were little pictures besides the dishes. Shyara guessed that she wasn’t the only pony who couldn’t read the menu.

After pointing at what looked like a pasta dish, Shyara turned to watch the rolling green countryside through the window.

Only a few minutes passed, a pleasant silence encompassing their tiny corner of the car, before a sharp voice pierced Shyara like an arrow.

“What do you mean there are no tables available? We made reservations!”

Looking away from the window, Shyara saw a beige, earth pony mare in a white jacket confronting the waiter. Her wavy blue mane framed dull yellow eyes. At her side was an almost white unicorn in a smoking vest with a slicked back blonde mane.

“I’m sorry madam, but there aren’t any reservations on the list,” the waiter calmly said, his trained resolve holding up like a fortress against the angry glare launched at him.

“Those two aren’t eating, just tell them to come back later.” The mare thrust a hoof at Bonnie and Shyara. The filly felt a surge of anger and loathing at the mare. She wasn’t surprised when, after the waiter again attempted to placate her, the mare marched up to their table.

“Excuse me,” the mare said, her voice exuding excessive sweetness.

“Why, hello there,” Bonnie looked up, having either pointedly ignored the argument, or had been too engrossed in the countryside to care.

“Hello, I’m afraid there has been a slight error.” The mare put on her best smile. “You see, we had reserved a table to dine at this time, and… we’ll, you see where I am going, yes?”

“Oh, yes, no problem at all!” Bonnie returned the mare’s smile, and then scooted over to make some room. “Why don’cha join us?”

“Oh, um...” Shyara smirked at the flustered mare as she looked from the bench, to the stallion watching with a bemused quirk to his own lips, then to Bonnie and Shyara. “I suppose that is acceptable… Right, love?”

The stallion shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter where you eat. I won’t have the common fare these trains call ‘food’.”

“Really?” Shyara snorted, turning the snort into a sharp giggle. “That’s kind of silly. Even back home we weren’t picky about our food. Well, other than lentils. That is peasant fare.”

The stallion gave a little chuckle, mirth flicking up the corner of his mouth.

“I'm Sapphire. Sapphire Shores, and this is my fiancé, Duke Halcyon Blueblood the thirtieth of Vanchester,” Sapphire indicated the stallion, trying to smile her way past his comment.

“Your Grace, this is a surprise, don’t you know?” Bonnie gave as much of a bow as was possible on the bench.

Shyara stared up at Blueblood. There was something about him, even more so than Bonnie. An indescribable aura of… something. A very familiar something. A warm something. A something that Shyara knew she should have been able to name. It was so similar to the aura she felt about Trixie and Bonnie, but different, and potent. Very, very potent.

If Trixie was an illusionist, and Bonnie was good at keeping secrets, than Blueblood had to be… what?

“Are you alright?” Blueblood asked, his piercing eyes having turned to the filly, sizing her up in just a glance.

Shyara could almost see it as his eyes traced her vest, flicked to her horn, darted to her blank flank, and then calculated everything together. His gaze returned to her vest, a tightness forming at the bridge of his muzzle.

‘He knows!’ Shyara realised with a gulp. ‘He knows I am hiding something, and he is trying to figure it out. He’s close, too. Does he have a magic seeing hat? No. Then, how?’

“Are you a spy?” Shyara asked, saying the first thing that came to mind.

“No, I am the current Vice Chief of Naval Staff for the Crystal Navy.” Blueblood pulled out a snuff box from his vest pocket. Placing a small amount of snuff on a hoof, he quickly inhaled the finely ground tobacco before adding, “That just means I am in charge of spies. I am not, nor have I ever, been a spy. Everypony seems to make that error.”

Snapping the box shut, Blueblood returned it to his pocket.

“You’re on the Admiralty Board?” Bonnie gave Blueblood a predatory grin.

“The civilian branch, yes. Never had a stomach for ship-life. Grandmother tried to get me to take a commission, having made me spend a dreadful few years at sea. While the navigation was fun, the terrible food, constant threat of disease, not to mention being stuck with hundreds of earth ponies in a small, wood box was not to my taste. And the mold! Ick.” Blueblood shuddered. “No, I’ll stick to land, thank you kindly.”

“Bluey, why don’t you have a seat?” Sapphire asked, her voice straining as she glanced about the train car and the various ponies starring in their direction.

“Well, I suppose it is uncouth to stand,” he grumbled, sliding down next to Shyara. “You and your mother must feel very honoured to sit at a table with a pony of my stature, yes?”

It took considerable effort for Shyara not to squeal with a fit of giggles and slide onto the floor. Her? Honoured to sit with a mortal? Any mortal?

Shyara couldn’t stop herself. The giggles came, along with her slipping off the bench and onto the floor beneath the table.

Surrounded by the table’s legs and benches, which formed a rather nice hidey-hole, Shyara’s fit of hysterics slowly passed, the filly taking the opportunity to consider Blueblood even more.

He was only acting like a fop, Shyara realised. Everything he did, every move he made, was carefully orchestrated to further that image. But he wasn’t a fop or fool. Far from it. He used lies and deception just like how Trixie used illusions. Was that what she saw when she looked at him? Lies? No, Shyara quickly decided, it couldn’t be Lies, as that was her father’s Domain. But something akin to lies.

Releasing an exasperated groan, Shyara pounded her hooves onto her head.

She was so close, she could taste it. Yet the something remained just out of reach, like it was purposefully teasing her.

Why did adults have to make it so difficult? Shyara knew her family had known for a good decade what her Domain entailed, but they kept it a secret. And from her! She was Secrets, so—

With a start, Shyara leaped to her hooves, having forgotten the table above her, her horn connecting with a whump that echoed down to her teeth. Eyes clamped shut, and rubbing her very sore head, Shyara didn’t hear Bonnie asking her if she was okay, nor see a little flash of light illuminate her hidey-hole.

Crawling out from beneath the table, Shyara grumbled. “I’m okay. I just figured out…”

Shyara’s eyes widened a little, her head whipping around to glance at her flank. Her no longer blank flank, and her mark.

Her mark was a black, twin-headed raven in profile, wings spread to catch the wind, atop a full moon. Or maybe just a circle. Clutched in the raven’s talons was a golden key.

A fresh giggle worked its way up her throat, turning into a booming laugh part-way.

She knew what everything in her mark meant. All the hidden meanings and Secrets. The twin-headed raven was the messenger, hearing and seeing all things, and carrying the hidden truths. It could swoop down and whisper them when needed, or vanish into the shadows and keep them safe. The circle —no moon, it was definitely the moon— was where the secrets were kept hidden and secure. The key was the most obvious, as she was the key herself.

“You got your mark!” Bonnie exclaimed, her eyes lighting as she stretched across the table to give Shyara’s mane a ruffle. “Wow… And a rather interesting one too.”

Shyara could stop from dancing on the spot, drawing bemused looks from observing ponies.

“Yes, and I found my Domain a half-century quicker than Tyr!” Shyara announced, striking a triumphant pose. “Who is the foal now!?”

“Tyr?” Blueblood’s gaze turned to steel.

“Domain?” Bonnie lifted a brow.

“I’m confused…” Sapphire rubbed her head.

Shyara froze mid-pose, hoof snapping to her face.

“Oh… Ponyfeathers…”