Myths and Birthrights: The Archive

Myths and Birthrights

By Tundara

Part Three: Ghosts of the North

Chapter Twenty: The Empress of Zebrica

Yo heave ho, girls, yo heave ho

Ship’s to sail this morn’, ship’s to sail this morn’

So wind and wind that ol’ capstan, girls

So wind and wind that ol’ capstan, good

Pinkie’s high voice lead the ponies at the capstan; the pink terror herself standing atop it  with a fiddle in her hooves as the crew hauled in the anchor. Below, more ponies ran to and fro with the nippers, while the large chain —stinking of the heavy muck that covered the bottom— was coiled into the chain locker. Above, the sun shone, covering the entire coast in a thick, sweltering heat.

As her first verse rang clear, Pinkie was joined by three contraltos and then the entire crew in a roaring;

Yo heave ho, girls, yo heave ho

Five times the call was made, with five great turns of the capstan, before Pinkie and the contraltos broke in again.

Yo heave ho, girls, yo heave ho

raise her from below, raise her from below

Tide will turn if we don’t stamp and go

Tide will turn and the wind won’t blow

“Light along the messenger, there! Come on, girls!” Fighting Spirit yelled, the First Lieutenant moving about the deck and observing the weighing of the anchor. To the captain she said, “Heave and a-weigh, Sir.”

To this he replied in a great shout, “Heave and rally!”

Pinkie applied the bow to her fiddle with even greater zeal and, as the crew gave out a singular cry of ‘yo heave ho’, they broke the anchor free of the mud below and ran it up to the bow.

Twilight watched all the activity from the captain’s side. Watching the crew raise the anchors so the ship could enter the harbour was the first break she had taken in a week.

Through her head whizzed hundreds of new spell formulae and runes; all of them learned from her stars. The wealth of knowledge the stars knew was almost immeasurable. Runes lost for countless years were now at Twilight’s disposal. All of them belonged to the category of runes referred to as Chaotic.

Remembering well her lessons on ancient magic and the dangers of Chaos Runes, Twilight had been leery when Polaris and Vega suggested passing the runes onto her. It had taken three nights, but the stars had eventually convinced Twilight, mostly through pointing out she already knew a Chaos Rune and had used it to save Pinkie Pie.

If the stars had known the monster they were about to unleash upon themselves and their sisters, they may have reconsidered the offer. Since the moment Twilight had learned her second Chaos Rune —Puk, a rune capable of making an illusionary dancing flame known as fey-fire— she’d become insatiable in her desire to learn more. To the point where she’d keep stars awake by bringing them down with her to the disc.

Polaris herself had suggested coming down that morning herself to teach Twilight the runes she knew. This morning there were no lessons. Instead, the lodestar bobbed around Twilight, zipping over to watch the crew up close as they worked before returning to Twilight and perching herself upon her mistress’ brow like a glimmering crown.

It is so different seeing it up close like this, Polaris said before beginning to gush and name, one by one and in exacting detail, everything the crew was doing.

Twilight had been in her cabin when the Bellerophon had weighed anchor in Baltimare. Her keen eyes missed little as the crew carried out its duties with practiced speed, their experienced actions putting her at ease. Only now, with Polaris’ running monologue, she even began to understand the process. From the hooking of the cat to the anchor-ring, the running of the anchor to the cat-head, shifting the messenger for another cable, to the many more actions needed to secure the anchor.

It was organised chaos, with all the shouting, singing, and running about.

When at last it was done, Hardy called out, ‘Up anchor’ and the ship was underway, gliding towards the mouth of the Zebrican River and the port of Timbucktu. Just beyond the port stood the city of Zerubaba; capital of Zebrica.

Built on top of three hills overlooking the river, Zerubaba was called the City of Minarets, so named for the innumerable towers that thrust from the city. Squat buildings, built one atop the other, were spread out in an almost chaotic display linked by twisting streets and alleyways. Painted in pinks, oranges, and blues, with roofs of red slate and little green doors, the homes were both comforting and haphazard enough to boggle those used to Equestrian sensibilities. There was barely a sight of plants in the entire city, aside from planters hung from windows.

Atop the first, and largest, hill, was the commoners district. Here the homes were smallest with the narrow alleys and streets filled with a swarming sea of zebras. As this was also the district where foreigners stayed, the more vibrant coats of ponies could occasionally be seen, as well as a few towering minotaurs or griffons.

On the peak of the second hill was the Tamil Tahree, the great mausoleum where the past queens and kings of Zebrica were interred. Eight towers surrounded the Tamil Tahree, each worthy of song, thrusting towards the sky like gold-capped white spears. From their peaks fluttered the banner of Samalla, the great Zebrican heroine who lead her nation in overthrowing griffon dominion in the year 365, Equestrian Reckoning. Samalla herself was kept at the very heart of the Tamil Tahree, surrounded by her descendants and the wealth of a great nation.

Within her casket, it was said, rested her greatest weapon; the griffon-slayer, Garoom Theerud, the sword of liberation. Legend held that Samalla had been a slave taken beyond the Mareterranean where she’d been forced to fight the ponies. She had excelled, proving herself until she came to the notice of wicked griffon mages. Seeking a tool against Discord, they performed unnatural experiments on Samalla, making her immune to magic. Instead of fighting the God of Chaos, she rebelled against her masters, cut the mages down, and led the zebras to freedom.

Between the second and third hills sat the ancient Hippodrome, constructed to entertain griffon lords with pony and zebra races of a brutal nature. Now little more than a crumbling ruin, it had been centuries since the Hippodrome had been used, with many of its stones pillaged to construct homes throughout Zerubaba.

Next to the decaying Hippodrome sat a coliseum. Unlike the Hippodrome, this building saw frequent use, hosting games, plays, and sports matches. Every day the citizens of Zerubaba funnelled into the coliseum, eager to be entertained. Where once it may have held gladiatorial combat like the Hippodrome, the closest the coliseum now came were the monthly executions of criminals.

Upon Pallum Hill, the third and largest, rested the Golden Palace. Half completed, with scaffolding surrounding the north and west facing walls, the palace of Zerubaba would be unrivaled when finished. A hundred towers overlooked sweeping courtyards, gardens, and a zoo. An army of a hundred architects and ten thousand labourers swarmed like ants over the construction site. The sounds of their chisels ringing down on the Bellerophon as she glided into Timbucktu’s harbour, only to end abruptly as a bugling horn rang across the countryside.

The port itself wasn’t all that different from any in Equestria. Warehouses lined the docks, vessels ranging from small sloops to barques tied to the quays. Behind them were homes, a thriving market, and a few administrative buildings and the garrison. In the port’s mouth, anchored in a neat row, were three ships-of-the-line; two first rates and a fourth.

“That’s the L’Orient, or I am the daughter of a ferrier,” Fighting Spirit said, having taken her spot at the captain’s right.

“I imagine so,” Hardy agreed, pointing to her stern galley windows as the Bellerophon swam past. “Yes, it is, you can see her name now. And those two are the Princess Platinum and the Santa Isabel. Yes, yes, it is as I suspected. Beautiful old ships, just beautiful. By Celestia, what are they all doing here, though?”

“Maybe the same thing we are?” Twilight suggested uneasily.

“Perhaps so, Princess, perhaps so.” Hardy tapped his hoof unhappily. “But it is a strange sight to see. In open waters, those three would be at each others throats like rutting dragons.”

Across from Timbucktu stood a low, squat fortress on a short hill overlooking the river. The black muzzles of cannons thrust out from its walls while the flag of Zebrica fluttered proudly on the breeze, a golden lion atop a scarlet field.

“Miss Spirit, the salute, if you please,” Hardy said as they passed the battlements of the fortress and glided deeper into the port.

The order was echoed along the deck, and then the first of twenty-one guns roared harmless flame seaward with a resounding crack. Along the upper deck the cannons fired one by one, engulfing the Bellerophon in a pungent fog that was carried away by the onshore breeze. One heartbeat after the last of the Bellerophon’s cannons had fired, the fort responded in kind, sending a salute of one and twenty throaty bangs.

As the Bellerophon dropped her anchors, Twilight turned to see Faust approaching with Timely. The pair had been watching from the crows nest, the good doctor describing the methods in much the same manner as Polaris. With a smile, Timely said, “Here we are, Zebrica at last. It feels like this trip has taken forever.”

“And now the real fun can begin,” Faust said, sharing Timely’s smile, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

I do not like that look, mistress, Polaris hummed from her perch. She suspects trouble.

Taking Polaris’ words to heart, Twilight swung up beside her aunt, asking, “Aunt Faust, what can I expect here?”

“Adventure, my dear, this is a land of adventure and romance.” Faust lifted her head, taking in a deep breath of the spice laden air. “You need to be careful. I see dark things moving in the shadows, circling you and your friends. Stay close to each other, and you shall remain safe.”

Turning to watch the crew prepare and lower Bellerophon’s tenders, Twilight asked when Faust had last been in Zebrica.

“The last time must have been… the year three-seventy-one. I spoke with Discord shortly after the mad-one appeared. He tried to goad me into a fight.”

“Tried?”

“Yes, tried. Came very close, too, but ultimately I knew it wasn’t my place to stop him. You’ve met him. I’m sure you can imagine what tricks he pulled.”

Faust snorted and flicked her wings in irritation while Twilight shuddered at the memories of Discord’s shortly lived freedom.

“Before that… It has to have been around five hundred Before Equestria, give or take a decade.” Faust tapped her chin as she turned over the past in her mind. “Yes, that sounds about right. The griffons were forming the Second Empire and I was curious as to if they’d be a threat to my little ponies. Short answer was; yes, oh, how they’d be a threat. I can’t be happier that their empire is in complete shambles and on the precipice of annihilation. I wish it would remain so.”

“How can you say that?” Twilight asked, gaping at her aunt. “Griffons can be a little rough around the edges, but they don’t deserve to die!”

Faust gave Twilight a look not unlike pity while Timely cleared his throat and took a keener interest in the lowering of the tender.

“Griffons are beasts and brutes, little better than monsters. I have tried, time and again, to make them see reason and the virtues of peace, but all they ever desire is conquest and conflict. They revel in their carnivorous nature. It took force and bloody wars to make them sign the Compact, disallowing them from hunting and consuming ponies, zebras, or camels. You’ll discover soon enough, my sweet, innocent niece; griffons are not to be trusted.”

Twilight felt a little green as she stuttered, “They eat ponies?”

“Not anymore.” Faust gave a grim grin before swinging herself over the rail and lowering herself into the tender. “But let’s not worry about that. Right now, we have a city to explore.”

Deciding it better to put Faust’s comments out of her mind for the time being, Twilight clambered down the Bellerophon’s side. They were soon joined by Pinkie, Rainbow, Fleur, and Timely. The bargemares pushed off, and with strong strokes of the oars, carried the tender towards the docks. Behind them came the second tender, a smaller jolly boat, it holding a large, gold-banded chest containing the gifts for Zebrica’s Empress.

The tender kissed the dock light as a mother’s lips upon the brow of her foal, not even jostling the passengers. The bargemares all smiled, a few going so far as to whisper and pat their neighbor on the back at the display of skill.

Up onto the dock went Twilight and her entourage, Rainbow and Pinkie both gaping at the crowd that had gathered along the pier. Mostly the black and whites of zebras, the crowd nevertheless showed the brighter coats of a few ponies, and perhaps a dozen or so griffons, camels, and the towering forms of a pair of elephants.

To one side stood two ranks of zebra soldiers, resplendent in gold and scarlet uniforms, the edges of chain barding flashing in the reflected light. Like the few earth ponies in Equestria’s guards, the zebras shouldered long-hafted spears, their greater natural strength allowing them to wear heavier barding with ease.

From the ranks of soldiers stepped their commander, or perhaps a noble. Clad in old styled grey plate armour, his peytral and helm were both emblazoned with swirling gold painted dragons breathing fire. The swagger in his steps made his braided mane bounce as it hung down his right side.

At his side, ignored by everyone present, stood a towering lion of golden fire and black smoke. Twilight recognised him as an Ifrit, spirits found only in Zebrica. The Ifrit’s eyes glowed like embers, his lips pulled back to reveal long, jagged fangs of black igneous rock.

The officer saluted, head held high and grey eyes shining, drawing Twilight’s attention away from the spirit.

“Your most Divine Highness, I am Lord Halphamet, Commandant of the Empress’ Guard and her Hoof. I am here as your escort to the Golden Palace.”

Twilight was taken aback at the brisk, almost harsh clip to the zebra’s accent. He had none of Zecora’s playful sing-song nature. Everything about him was simple, almost blunt, military professionalism.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lord Halphamet.” Twilight gave her best smile as Pinkie bounced out of the tender and —along with Timely— turned to help Faust onto the dock.

Lord Halphamet’s stoic expression shattered as he saw Faust rise on wobbly hooves.

“Pahroom shi’rah!” he exclaimed, bowing so low nose of his helm scraped the ground. “It is a great honour to greet you, your most Divine Majesty. The Empress anticipated your arrivals and extends her invitation to dine at the palace this eve.”

“We graciously accept,” Twilight said, keeping her head held high. She remembered Zecora once mentioning in passing that it was seen as a sign of weakness among zebras for a superior to make any concession to a lesser. While it made Twilight’s mane prickle at having to seem so unfriendly, she also wanted to make a good first impression.

“Very good,” Lord Halphamet said, stepping out of his bow and leading the way towards a group of carriages.

A hush fell across the pier as Twilight passed, the crowd falling to its knees, brows placed upon the ground and eyes turned away. Twilight blushed and couldn’t shake a crawling feeling as she entered the first carriage, the Imperial Mark upon its doors. Faust joined Twilight in the first carriage, the door snapping shut behind her while the others entered the remaining carriages.

“You’re doing well, Twilight,” Faust said, shifting a little to watch as Timely, Hardy, and Fleur entered the last of the carriages.

Twilight’s hooves shook as she gave her aunt an incredulous look. “I feel like an imposter,” Twilight admitted. “I’m not ready for this. Celestia spent all our time together getting me ready to save Luna and the Disc. Not playing nice with nobles and Queens. What if I say the wrong thing?”

Pressing her ears back, Twilight cringed as the carriage began to roll through the port town and towards Zerubaba.

“I belong in a library studying or a class-room teaching. That was what I thought I was destined to do. Not…” Twilight gestured to her wings. “This is suddenly all too real. More so than even Nightcourt or having to sort through some reports. I at least had Luna for one, and the other was just paper work. I’m going to be all alone, in front of somepony I know nothing about who is in charge of one of the oldest nations on Ioka. What if I cause a war!?”

Twilight pressed a hoof to her chest as her heart took off like a hound chasing a rabbit and her breaths came in sharp gasps.

Mistress, you should calm yourself. Getting worked up over what one mortal thinks is silly. Polaris floated out of Twilight’s mane, hovering just beyond her nose to give her a fixed point to look at.

“You’ll be fine, Twilight,” Faust chuckled. She then canted a brow, asking, “When was the last time you slept?”

“Last week,” Twilight admitted, fiddling her hooves and feeling foalish. “Whenever I tried to get to sleep I’d think about this meeting and imagine… failing.”

“Ah, I thought so.” Faust shook her head. “Here, come sit beside me and rest your head on my withers.”

Twilight thought to protest, but decided against it. Shifting across the carriage, she sat down next to Faust, laying her head against her aunt’s neck. The smell of licorice and sweet wine met Twilight’s nose as Faust extended a wing around Twilight.

“Polaris, if you’d be so kind?” Faust said to the hovering star.

With pleasure, replied the star, zipping towards Twilight and tapping her on the tip of her horn.

“Hey, what are you… do… ing…?” Twilight mumbled, her eyes fluttering shut as she drifted off into a blissful, dreamless sleep.

“Thank you, Polaris” Faust smiled and gave the star a slight nod. “That should give her a couple hours before we reach the Palace, at least.”

My pleasure, replied the star as she settled in Twilight’s mane like a glittering broach. It is my duty to help the stars to go to sleep, after all.

* * *

“I don’t get it,” Apple Bloom admitted as she walked with Sweetie, Scootaloo, and Shyara through Ponyville. “Why are you hiding out in our club house instead of, I don’t know, staying with Fluttershy? She already has Princess Luna and Iridia staying with her. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind you as well.”

“S-say, is that cottage made to look like a giant gingerbread house?” Shyara attempted to deflect away from the question, pointing towards Sugar Cube Corner.

“Sheesh, you do this every time,” Scootaloo groaned, wings buzzing with irritation. “And that was the worst attempt yet.”

Pressing her ears flat against her head, Shyara looked away from the others, mumbling something about not wanting to talk about it under her breath.

“Come on, we promised to keep how you’re hiding in our clubhouse a secret!” Scootaloo shot Shyara an irritated look. “Even Pinkie Promised and everything. Can’t you tell us why?”

“I still don’t understand the importance of Pinkie Promises…” Shyara rolled her eyes. “But if it will get you to stop talking about it —in public— it’s because,” Shyara lowered her voice into a hissing whisper, one the Crusaders could barely hear, “I’m afraid of Celestia.”

“You’re afraid of the Princess?” Apple Bloom yelped, head jerking back as if she’d been struck. “Whatever for? She’s the nicest pony around except for maybe Pinkie or Fluttershy.”

“Don’t forget Princess Luna,” Scootaloo added. When Apple Bloom and Sweetie gave her incredulous looks, Scootaloo snapped, “What? She’s a nice pony too! All the princesses are.”

Shaking her head as the quartet walked up to Sugar Cube Corner’s door and made their way inside, Shyara mumbled, “It’s not that simple. I’m—”

The rest of Shyara’s words ended in a choked exclamation as she looked up to see Fluttershy standing at the counter chatting amiably with the store’s owners. Though Fluttershy seemed to the world to be no more than her old pegasus self, Shyara had no difficulty seeing past the illusions. To her sight Fluttershy’s horn was like a spiral of shifting yellow smoke. Fluttershy’s ear flicked a few times as if a fly was buzzing around her head. Spinning around, Shyara started to leave, only to freeze when an altogether too-soft voice spoke up.

“Hello girls.” These words were followed by a slight pause and, “Who is your friend?”

Gulping, and turning back to face the approaching goddess, Shyara put on her most innocent smile. Towering above her, Fluttershy held a small box of baked goods beneath a wing.

“Hello, Fluttershy,” the crusaders intoned with the sweet innocence common to all fillies. “This is—”

“Shy Spell, I’m Shy Spell,” Shyara blurted, a bead of sweat prickling her brow.

“Oh, hello, Shy Spell.” Fluttershy gave a hesitant and uncertain smile. “It’s, um, nice to meet you.” Fluttershy took in a deep breath, Shyara getting the distinct impression that of the two of them, Fluttershy was the far more nervous one. “You, um, new in town?”

“Me?” Shyara’s voice squeaked like a cat-toy. “Y-yes. I’ve only been in Ponyville a few days.”

“Oh, that’s… um, nice, I suppose.” Fluttershy shifted from hoof to hoof, glancing longingly at the door. Shyara almost felt sorry for Fluttershy. Aunt Artemis had been nervous around unfamiliar ponies, but not to the extent Fluttershy displayed. “So… You four are here for breakfast?”

Gulping Shyara looked to the crusaders for support, but found them all trying hard not to look guilty; a task they all were failing at miserably. This had been a bad idea, coming into town and leaving the clubhouse. What ever had possessed her to ask to join the crusaders? The warm, spicy smells combined with the growling of her stomach served as strong reminders.

Deciding truth was the best weapon, Shyara said, “Breakfast? Yes, breakfast! I heard that this bakery had the best muffins.”

“Well, not the best,” Sweetie mumbled, scuffing a hoof. “Mrs. Hooves makes the best muffins. But they’re really good here, too.”

“Yes, that’s true. Pinkie has asked for years if Derpy could give her the recipe.” Fluttershy nodded her head a bit too rapidly, her ear flicking again. “Well, I better get going. There is still so much to do before tomorrow. You four fillies try to be good, and stay out of trouble. You especially, Apple Bloom. Applejack is stressed enough with… everything.”

“Course I will.” Apple Bloom smirked.

Seeming as if she wanted to say more, Fluttershy opened her mouth, closed it, and made her good-byes before quickly leaving the bakery.

“What was that about?” Scootaloo hissed to Sweetie, the fillies making their way towards the counter, where they each ordered a muffin and milkshake. “I’ve never seen Fluttershy that… odd, before.”

“How should I know?” Sweetie asked as they took their seats and began to discuss plans for the upcoming Summer Sun Talent Fair.

Shyara couldn’t shake the feeling that her disguise had been about as effective as a paper mache umbrella in a thunderstorm. She was certain that Fluttershy knew she was an alicorn. But, then why hadn’t she said anything?

Before Shyara could really fall deep into thought, she was brought out by a harsh bark of laughter.

“Well, if it isn’t the Cutie Mark Catastrophes,” Diamond Tiara —easily distinguished as she wore a diamond-encrusted tiara— sneered as she and her companion approached. “What are you blank flanks doing? Shouldn’t you be working on your next disaster?”

“For your information, we have a great act this year!” Scootaloo snapped, slamming her hooves on the small table and almost toppling the milkshakes.

“What, not another attempt at music, I hope,” Diamond Tiara cackled. “Last time you almost destroyed the entire talent show.”

“Actually, yeah, it is!” Scootaloo had to be restrained by Apple Bloom and Sweetie to prevent her from jumping at Diamond Tiara. “And it’s going to leave you crying like a foal with its awesomeness!”

“More like crying from laughing so hard,” Diamond Tiara snorted, glancing over to Shyara. “And who are you? Another loser blank flank?”

“No, I have my mark,” Shyara said, shifting a little on her stool to reveal her cutie mark. Diamond Tiara hadn’t been ready for the answer, clearly unable to grasp why a filly with her cutie mark would be with fillies lacking theirs. Feeling a little vindictive on behalf of  her new friends, Shyara decided to have some fun at Diamond’s expense. “I’m Shy Spell, of House Lulamoon. My mom is an old acquaintance of the Belles.”

None of what she said was a lie, in the strictest sense.

“House Lulamoon?” Diamond Tiara’s brows shot up as she glanced between Shyara’s mark and horn. “You’re a noble? You? And you hang out with them?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Shyra tilted her head as if she were speaking to a simpleton.

Stabbing a hoof at the crusaders, Diamond snarled. “They are just farmers and poor ponies!”

Laughing, Shyara replied with a biting, “You don’t know?”

Diamond Tiara’s face turned beet-red as her anger got the best of her. She was saved only by her companion saying, “Come on Diamond. We don’t have time for them or their new friend.”

Taking a calming breath, Diamond adjusted her tiara. “You’re right Silver. With Sweetie’s useless sister gone we’ve had to get a real—”

The remainder of what she was going to say was lost as Sweetie hurled herself, screaming like a banshee, onto Diamond Tiara, knocking the other filly over. The pair tumbled across the shop, Diamond yelling for help as Sweetie bit her ear and kicked her. Scrambling, the remaining crusaders, Shyara, and Silver all tried to pull Sweetie and Diamond apart. They received several kicks, and Scootaloo a bite from Diamond, before Mr. and Mrs. Cake came running.

Yanking Sweetie off Diamond Tiara —the latter crying and pressing a hoof to her ear as she was helped up— Mr. Cake demanded to know who had started the fight.

“She said Rarity—”

“I don’t want to hear it, girls!” Mrs. Cake snapped, “It doesn’t matter what anypony says. Fighting isn’t the answer. You’re all banned from the bakery for a week.”

“What?” all six fillies exclaimed. In an effort to avoid punishment, Silver and Diamond added, “But, they started it!”

“Don’t think I don’t know what happened out here, girls. I have the ears of a fox and the eyes of an eagle. Comes with being a mother.” There was no humour in Mrs. Cake’s tone as she glared at each filly one by one. “Furthermore, I’m going to be having a talk with all of your parents.”

“What?” they yelped, even louder.

“Carrot, mind the shop please while I take the girls home,” Mrs. Cake said as she marched the group of fillies out of the shop like a procession of prisoners on their way to the gallows.

Ears flat and dark looks shooting back and forth, the group was lead one-by-one to their homes, starting with Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon. The Crusaders and Shyara were made to apologize at each home under the disapproving eyes of Mrs. Cake and the other fillies’ parents. Silver Spoon was made to apologize back, while Diamond’s father stated simply that his daughter would be duly punished for her role in the fight.

As they marched again through the streets, Shyara wondered when Mrs. Cake would ask where she lived, and what excuse to fabricate in order to escape. Beneath her vest, Shyara’s wings twitched and prickled while she glanced at every alley as if it were a passage to safety. The narrow, shadowed spaces seemed to call to Shyara. Each time she started to drift towards one, however, there was Mrs. Cake, waiting and watching.

The next house they went to was Sweetie’s.

It was utterly plain and ordinary in every regard. The yard was perfectly neat and trim, with two little shrubs next to the street. The white washed walls and stained cedar beams neither shined nor were they dull.

As she had at the previous homes, Mrs. Cake knocked on the door, the fillies standing in utter dejection behind her.

It was Bonnie that answered the door, pulling it open sharply with a, “Who is there? Oh, hello Cup, what’s going on?”

“Morning Bonnie.” Mrs. Cake gave a slightly stiff nod. “I’m afraid your daughter and her friends were fighting with Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon in my store this morning.”

Bonnie glanced past Mrs. Cake to the four contrite fillies. Shyara did her best to hide behind Mrs. Cake and Apple Bloom, but it was an utterly futile effort. Bonnie arched a brow as her eyes moved from her daughter to Shyara, where they lingered a moment before returning to Mrs. Cake.

“Well, that ain’t on. Sweetie, Shy, apologize to Mrs. Cake and then go to your room, you’re both grounded.”

All four fillies’ mouths fell open together, their jaws practically bouncing off the red brick path. Mrs. Cake seemed as surprised as the crusaders, frowning as she glanced between Shyara and Bonnie.

“I was going to ask if you knew who her parents were…” Mrs. Cake’s voice trailed off and she gave her head a shake.

“I’m an old friend of the family,” Bonnie said as she waved Sweetie and Shyara inside. Following Sweetie’s lead, Shyara said she was sorry before scurrying past Bonnie. Behind them they heard Bonnie continue talking with Mrs. Cake. “Promised I’d look after her while her mother was away on business.”

“Doesn’t she have any other herd members? I thought it rather odd that…”

“Nah, they passed away years ago. Storm off Shelby Point in ‘59. Was in all the papers. The Maid Mariner disaster. Her dad and other mom were passengers.”

“Oh, poor thing. I read about that. What a shame.” There was a pause, then Mrs. Cake made her farewells saying she had to talk with Scootaloo and Apple Bloom’s families still.

Shyara looked around the living room, and was pleasantly surprised to find it was the complete opposite of the exterior. Fishing nets hung from the ceiling, an old wheel placed above the fireplace, and pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. Some were painted portraits, but many more where the curious black-and-white photograph kind. On the mantle were a few trophies, the words ‘Best Coach’ written on brass placards upon their bases. Behind the trophies sat an old sabre, the blade nicked and battered. In the middle of the room was an old weathered couch, the padding poking out of the end-rests where the fabric had been worn through, and a squat table made from polished oak planks.

“I thought I told you two to go to your room,” Bonnie said as she shut the front door, giving the fillies a sharp look.

“Yes, mom,” Sweetie intoned, waving for Shyara to follower her upstairs.

Sweetie’s room turned out to be everything Shyara should have expected, but never really considered. Painted a nice peach tone with swirling pink hearts and lines, it was almost overwhelming in its cleanliness.

“Thanks, by the way,” Sweetie mumbled as she jumped up onto her bed. “For trying to stand up to Diamond for us. I’m sorry I got you caught.”

Shrugging, Shyara said, “It’s okay. It was a stupid idea for me to come into town anyways.” There was a pause, then, “What is your mom going to do to us?”

“Well, we’re grounded for sure,” Sweetie curled up as she spoke, “and I expect we’ll be yelled at a little. Dad would take away desert too.”

Shyara nodded, though she didn’t understand the word ‘grounded’. It kept getting thrown around like its meaning was obvious, but it couldn’t have been more obscure to her. Deciding to puzzle out the meaning, Shyara knew it was a punishment of some sort. It had to be a bad one too, given how the others reacted each time it was mentioned. With a name like ‘Grounded’, maybe they were going to be placed in holes and left in the dank earth without food or water for days.

No, that couldn’t be it. That was a punishment more fitting Gaea, not soft Ioka.

What could it be then? Shyara began to pace, the minutes ticking away, while Sweetie moped on her bed. Maybe they’d have to dig something? Making their fillies work as punishment didn’t seem so far-fetched. Deciding that had to be the answer, Shyara looked up to the clock, and was surprised to see that a half hour had gone past since they’d been banished to Sweetie’s room.

“Where’s your mom? I thought she was going to yell at us.”

“She’s probably talking with dad about how long we should be grounded,” Sweetie shrugged.

Swallowing a nervous lump at the impending punishment, Shyara said, “But, I’m not their filly. Can they punish me?”

Looking up, Sweetie opened her mouth to speak, and then snapped it closed again. “I don’t know…” Sweetie gave a noncommittal frown. “How does mom even know you?”

“We met in Baltimare. I was lost and she helped me find the right train, and my... what do you call them? Cutie mark. She helped me find my cutie mark.” Shyara stopped her pacing, sitting next to Sweetie’s bed and staring at the door.

The heavy tread of hooves outside the door made both fillies stop and sit upright. The latch moved, and the door swung open to reveal not Bonnie, but Princess Luna. A very stern-faced Princess Luna. Her horn glowed as she pushed the door open and set her eyes on Shyara. Behind the princess, Bonnie stepped into the room, her jaw tense with anger as she looked at her younger daughter.

Shyara decided that being grounded was the least of her problems.

* * *

Gamla Uppsala; lodge of the ancient halla priestesses of Iridia, it was once among the most hallowed ground within the Taiga. Within the open air temple the priestesses had called upon Iridia to bring the spring and anointed the young, applying the mystical potions that guided Halla to their lodge. The Lionesses, they had been called in antiquity, and their position within Halla society had thought to be unassailable.

Now the temple was nothing more than a decaying tomb.

The ground was thick with the bleached bones of the priestesses and their defenders, slain to the last hind during the purge that followed Iridia’s defeat. The other lodges, united in their rage and disgust over the queen’s manipulations, tricking them into war with the ponies, had leveled all their pain and anguish upon the Lionesses’ withers, blaming them as much as Iridia herself for the role the Halla had played in the attempted genocide. It was beneath a somber moon, the forest filled with a thick mist, that the battered and weary Eternal Herd descended upon the priestesses and their apprentices.

Death had been a forgone conclusion. To spare the younglings a worse fate, the priestesses had gathered them within the great ante-chamber underneath the temple, in the halls and tunnels where they lived, played, and loved. While the holy guards fought and bled in a last stand above, the Lionesses slit the acolytes’ throats one by one, and then their own. When the other Halla entered Gamla Uppsala they found a grisly scene, the massive chamber awash with blood soaked bodies, and the Grand Lioness in the middle of it all, the Golden Sickle of the Queen pressed to her neck.

“The queen will rise from the bones of Gamla Uppsala. I curse you in her name. I spit upon you in her name. Until she reclaims her throne, the Halla won’t know true hope,” the Grand Lioness cried, then she brought the blade across her neck, cutting so deep she almost severed her own head.

Disgusted beyond the pall of all reason, the Eternal Herd leveled the temple, creating a mound above and sealing the tunnels below behind mighty doors. Before them they raised a plinth, and upon it was etched a simple warning;

Beware: Only the Dead may tread beyond these doors three.

And so it was for fifteen centuries, until the doors were pried open and the breath of the living intruded upon the tomb.

River stood upon the same spot her mother had thirty years earlier, looking down on the plinth with a sharp frown. Draco sat upon the mound, wings extended like a shield over the shattered remnants of Gamla Uppsala’s doors. The beast had his head held high, turning in slow motions to scan the surrounding forest and lake. Within the curvature of his wings sat the foals, manes hanging limp and dejected down the sides of their necks as they slowly ate the sparse grass growing out of the rocky ground.

Of the fog there was no sign.

Slipping back into the woods, River returned to the other Bears. They were a harried and ragged group, their fur matted with mud and burrs from long days spent tracking the star dragon and the shade controlling him. Fallen polished her bow, her eyes sunken and haunted as she and the others watched River approach.

“Why have they stopped?” the archer asked, placing her bow upon a cloth while she pulled out her war-axe and began to run a whetstone along its blade.

“It’s as we suspected, they were looking for something,” River said as she sat down.

Around her the remaining members of the company sat in a circle. Like Fallen, the others were all taking care of their equipment. All except Mountain, the berserker wearing only his sharpened antler caps and leg guards. He sat looking outward, ever-vigilant and wary.

“Kinda obvious, the way they’d change direction almost at random, criss-crossing the forest as if they were blind drunk,” Ruse muttered, running a cloth over his scratched armour. “I swear, we’ve been from one side of the Taiga to the other following them.”

“A slight exaggeration, but apt,” Vixen smirked, stretching tired muscles before yawning. Glancing at his foal-hood friend, he asked the more pressing question; “What were they looking for?”

River hesitated, bit her lip, then said, “Gamla Uppsala.”

She received little reaction beyond a few muttered oaths.

“The Queen preserve us,” Evergreen said as she quickly made a sign meant to evoke the Queen’s protection. “I thought the Champions sealed that place, buried it and the foul things crawling within.”

Vixen shared a glance with River, receiving a slight nod from her to speak.

“No, they only collapsed a sub-chamber. There are still miles of tunnels beneath the earth with dozens to hundreds more chambers.” Vixen ran a hoof through his developing beard. “The priestesses kept more than just the Golden Sickle within their lodge.”

“Well, yes, every Halla knows that Llallawynn was found within,” scoffed Jade, giving the sword strapped to River’s side an almost envious look.

“There was more, much more. The Black runes, the Dreamer’s Shard, and the Scrolls of Seven Sins were also contained within,” River explained, “and there are many more vaults that the Champions didn’t open. Any of them could contain whatever it is that the fog, shade —or whatever she is— seeks.”

“Doesn’t matter what she wants within that place,” Mountain rumbled, glancing over his shoulder with a shining brown eye. “We will bury her within for all time, correct?”

“Too dangerous. We can’t let her bide her time. Or worse, it could be exactly what she wants.” River shook her head slowly. “No, the only answer is for us to go in and send her to Tartarus.”

Lifting a brow, Vixen asked, “You have a plan to get past the dragon, then?”

Smiling, River pointed towards the shore of the nearby lake Lion. On its banks, hidden by a crooked tree was an outcropping of stone and an old wolf den. At the back of the warren was a sharp incline that dropped down into one of the numerous tunnels.

“We will go in the same way my mother got out,” River laughed. “It will be closer to the vaults than the main entrance, as well.”

“What of the dragon and foals? We aren’t going to leave them, are we?” Predictably, the question came from Mountain, the huge berserker still stinging at his earlier failure to protect the younglings.

Letting out a sharp breath, Jade said, “We’ve been over this, Mountain, the lives of three foals are not as important as those of every halla within the Taiga. Stopping the shade takes precedence.”

“No, we will save them,” Fallen said in a voice as hollow as her heart, looking up to fix each of her companions with a solemn gaze. “It will serve as a distraction while River slips into the tomb.”

“I hope you have a plan,” Broken pressed, leaning forward and frowning.

“We can’t kill the dragon, he is too strong,” Hoof frowned, clicking his tongue and looking up at the sunny sky peeking through the trees. “He shrugged off our magic as if it were nothing. Our blades and arrows can’t pierce his scales. It seems almost hopeless, and unnecessary.”

“Hopeless? Bah! We are all Masters! Warriors and mages! The dragon isn’t invincible. The scales on his breast were already cracked, if you have forgotten.” Mountain stamped a mighty hoof. “Besides, the goal isn’t to slay him, simply delay. Whatever magic that shade used to enslave him will end once River completes her task. We will therefore keep him busy while Whispering rescues the foals and spirits them to safety.”

Mountain looked around the ring, getting a stiff nod of approval from every member of the company. He then turned to River. She knew that they were all stinging from the loss of Split and Briar to the dragon. It was with a bitter heart she gave a disapproving shake of her head.

“You mean well, Mountain, but the foals are not a priority here.” River held up a hoof as Mountain gathered himself to protest. “As you say, the dragon will be freed once the shade is defeated. Accomplishing that goal will also rescue the foals. Alone, I don’t favour my odds against the shade, but together, we will return peace to the Taiga.”

“As usual, you are right.” Mountain hung his head, shaking his massive antlers at his own folly.

A small part of River wondered if any of them would return to the vales or see the next sunrise. The greater portion sang for the coming battle. They were all bred for conflict, even Little Hoof, the wizard’s eyes flashing with grim determination.

Nothing more needed discussing, each Halla preparing themselves in their own way. Prayers were spoken to Iridia, and then it was time to begin.

River lead the way, moving easily towards the lake and the hidden entrance to the tunnels. The passage was cramped and wet, the soil clinging to her coat as she inched forward. While the others used magic, to River’s blessed eyes the passage seemed to be bathed in moonlight, giving every root and rock an eerie countenance. It felt like the entire world was pressing down on her, squeezing her flat as she moved slowly forward. Eventually, the passage widened, forming a sharp inverted ‘V’ that sloped softly, a little trickle of water running along the bottom.

Dropping out of the natural passage, River turned to help the others. Mountain was the last to leave the passage, his huge shoulders and antlers scraping along the roof and causing the passage to collapse behind him.

The tunnel they found themselves in was vastly different from the muddy entrance. Grey stone had been carved by magic, the walls smooth as glass and the floors solid stone. The trickling water from the passage pooled and ran along the walls, a tapping drip-drip echoing up from the tomb’s depths. Looking either way, River listened for the tell-tale whispering of restless spirits wakened by the shades presence.

Setting off, River and the company moved swiftly and silently.

Magically-hewn walls gave way to those carved by picks and hooves. Alcoves covered the tunnels, many holding the body of ancient halla, but many more empty, the dust disturbed. A few hundred yards further along, the company came across the first draugen. The undead guardian was long since returned to the afterlife, its body hacked and torn to pieces many years prior.

River hesitated next to the body, casting a curious eye to the old wounds covering its hide.

“Mother did this,” she said in an awed whisper. “I always believed the stories exaggerated…”

Shaking off the nostalgia, River stepped over the body and entered a low room. From the stout tables covered in knives and rotten linen, it was clear this place had once been used to prepare the dead for their final rest. With extreme care, the company moved through the room, marvelling at the care their ancestors had taken with the dead. Though much was decayed and rotten, shelves were orderly and well stocked. Jars of dried poppies covered an entire wall, the flowers' colours faded and lost to time like the rest of the tomb.

Exiting the preparation room, the company discovered a large funerary chamber.

Along one wall stood a life-sized statue of Iridia carved of solid alabaster and gold. The statue looked forlornly down on a low dias. Once perfect rows of benches filled the remainder of the chamber, facing the statue and dias. River could imagine the ancient halla placing their dead upon the altar, gathering in the now ruined and smashed pews to sing songs to the Goddess of Spring, evoking her name and asking her to guide the dead to Elysium. It was much the same ritual as that practiced by the sun-worshipping ponies.

More draugen bodies filled this room, a half dozen in all, most bearing the same marks as the one in the tunnel. Others had been ripped in half by some spell, scorch marks marring the stone between the two pieces. One draugen hung suspended from the roof by an ebony spear. River’s mouth fell open at the sight.

River’s father had always said that her mother was a powerful sorceress, perhaps the greatest one to live since the great Star Swirl. The stories had been nice, but always that, stories. To be confronted by the evidence made River feel small again. Forcing the nostalgia aside, River left the ruined funeral chapel.

Beyond, the tunnel widened, three halla easily able to trot side-by-side touching neither the walls nor themselves. Here there were many doors leading to dorms, classrooms, kitchens, and feast halls. Gamla Uppsala may now be a tomb, but in her prime she had been a city. The tomb could never return to her former glory, many of the tunnels and rooms collapsed and buried underneath thousands of tons of stone and rubble. Despite this, little dust sat on the ground, disturbed by the tread of draugen raised when the queen’s champions had opened the tomb many years ago.

Drawn ever on by the growing whispers, River turned down a rougher passageway. Here the dust grew thicker, only a single set of hoofprints showing the way Velvet had passed all those years before.

With the hiss of steel, Llallawynn was unsheathed, the magical blade glowing with silvery light in the absolute black of the tomb. She stopped in front of a small door, a broken lock hanging limply from its handle, and pressed an ear to the crumbling wood. On the other side River could hear the whispers were loudest, and mingled among them was singing, a voice low and filled with a dark passion.

Núle, nahamlye.

Núle, tuluiden.

Empower this broken form,

Give it the strength I deserve.

Starfire courses through my soul,

Of which is justly mine alone.

Pushing the door open, River slunk into the adjoining chamber, followed by the other Halla.

It was a wide, circular room with two levels. River and the others stood on the upper level. A thick ring with old stone benches, it had once been a gallery from whence the priestesses could gaze down upon the lower area.

Here, the floor was divided into two parts by a ring of seven columns. Crawling from the recessed tombs of former High Priestesses, wraiths swarmed in a hissing, roiling mass of hatred and wickedness. They were denied access to the heart of the chamber by a wall of purple-white flames slowly growing higher and higher. And there, in the centre, dancing and singing, was the shade herself. She spun through the air above a pile of white bones, magic flowing from her voice to touch black glowing runes carved into the floor.

“I never imagined…” Hoof growled. “This is necromancy. If she completes this ritual, there won’t be a Halla alive that could stop that abomination.”

River nodded in agreement, looking for a way to the lower section of the chamber. There was a narrow, rotten set of steps, but it descended into the heart of the wraiths. It’d be impossible to slip the spectres, not without drawing their attention. At the moment they were focused inwardly, howling and hissing at the shade.

Núle, nahamlye.

Núle, tuluiden.

Stolen from me, my flesh was torn,

Let it be returned so I may enact my retribution.

A year would too long a wait,

To rain starfire down upon the vile thief.

Tendrils of magic burst from the runes, grabbing the bones and lifting them high. Coiling around the skeleton, the fog became sinew and tendon, muscle and organ. Their screams clawing at the Hallas’ ears, the wraiths tried to assault the fiery barrier, only to be driven back.

“Mountain, throw me,” River commanded, seeing no other alternative to pass the wraiths and interrupt the ritual in time.

“Gladly!” Mountain grinned wide, grabbing River with his magic, and after a quick couple steps, he launched her high and fast.

Núle, nahamlye.

Núle, tuluiden.

Vengeance will be mine,

Upon she who stole my stars, my daughter and my hope.

I am reborn,

I am reborn!

Landing with a bone jarring whump, River hardly paused before driving forward. Llallawynn slashed down, cutting one of the lurid tendrils with a clean strike. The severed magic collapsed in on itself, raining motes of glowing dust upon the ritual. A harsh howl ripped from the fog, her frightening countenance shifting to peer down on River.

“You,” snarled the shade, her partially formed body lowering to the altar. Wings of flayed flesh extended, ichorous magic dripping like blood from the tips of growing feathers. “I remember you. My foals, you tried to steal my foals.”

The rune River had disrupted began to glow anew, a thin stream of energy snaking towards the shade. Caressing the spell as if it were a lover’s cheek, the shade smirked wide.

“Can you hear them? I can. They call to me, screaming my name. ‘Astraea, Astraea, protect us, guide us, love us!’ I hear it always, for they are me,” Astraea, her body half formed, hopped from the altar, bones clicking under growing flesh.

Sinew by sinew, bone by bone, Astraea transformed from shapeless fog into a slim pegasus. Patches of ruddy fur appeared upon her back while a midnight purple mane fell in tangled clumps over her neck. Upon Astraea’s flank appeared a mark of five twisted runes forming the points of a star.

“I hear the spirit of this place crying in agony over the perversion you seek to accomplish,” River snapped, slowly circling the glowing runes, disrupting a few only to have them restart their magic after a moment.

“You can’t understand. You’re just a mortal. Hollow. Alone. Singular,” Astraea snorted, her eyes growing into narrow, violet slits.

Behind Astraea, through the wall of fire, River could see movement, large shapes running and fighting, highlighted by the occasional burst of a spell. She could not see or hear more than dull shouts and the thumping of earth elemental magic, the fires growing too tall, touching the roof and completely cutting River and Astraea off from the outside world.

“I don’t need to understand, only stop you,” River responded, jumping forward while conjuring an orb of frost between her antlers.

Spells clashed, frost bursting against flame in a twisting dance of white and violet. Llallawynn cut and slashed in a silver cyclone of enchanted steel, the blade narrowly missing time and again as Astraea weaved or turned the sword aside with precise sweeps of magic coated wings.

Around and around they moved, neither speaking, each focused on the other. Shifting the tempo, River brought Llallawynn close in a guard while coating the inner circle of the chamber in a biting frost. Feathers fully formed on her wings, Astraea took to the air with a triumphant howl. Along with her, Astraea pulled the walls of fire, curling them into tight balls beneath each wing.

Gamla Uppsala trembled as the twin spells fell upon River. The first she turned aside with Llallawynn. The second burst upon the blade, picking River up and throwing her against the far wall with a resounding crack.

Stars popped behind River’s eyes as she pushed herself back up. With the barrier dropped, the wraiths turned from the company of Halla and threw themselves at Astraea. The air was rent by their unnatural screams, the wraiths reaching with hungry hooves. A single word from Astraea’s lips halted their advance, the wraiths hovering around her as if they’d been caught in a web.

When Astraea descended, Death followed in her wake, the wraiths forming a shell around her. Supported by her magic, the wraiths fell upon the Halla, driving them back. Spells crackled and screeched, the chamber filled with blinding flashes and shouts.

Pushing herself forward, River dove back into the battle. Llallawynn struck down wraith after wraith, but more crawled from the tombs lining the walls. Their numbers were almost endless, fed by generations of the dead laid to rest within the ancient city. Unless Astraea could be stopped the battle was certain to be lost.

Putting everything into a last, desperate assault, River charged through the wraiths’ ranks. Their cold claws tore River, digging through the gaps of her armour into the soft flesh beneath. Llallawynn plunged towards Astraea’s throat, carried onwards by the hope of the Halla. At the last moment Llallawynn was diverted, the killing stroke only taking the light from one of Astraea’s eyes.

Shrieking, Astraea lashed out with all her power, hurling Halla and wraith alike back. Blood rushing down her face, Astraea stood amid the carnage, clutching her now blind eye. Fury gave her a truly fearsome countenance as she struck reflexively at the Halla. The chamber was punctuated by seven more screams as one by one the members of River’s company were felled.

It was hopeless, River realised, propping herself against the wall. Astraea was too powerful. Hopeless. Futile. They were all going to die, and for nothing.

Pushing herself further up the wall, the room spinning violently, River tried to watch what was happening. She saw movement, a blur of brown and black, heard the dull roar of someone shouting, and then a tremendous boom that sent her sprawling again. Her face landed with a splat in a growing pool of her own blood, her antlers cracking on the stone. Inches in front of her nose, Llallawynn lay abandoned, the silver blade throbbing with a dull light that slowed with each passing second.

A green aura lifted the blade, River floating along beside Llallawynn. River’s head rolled to the side, and she saw Vixen carrying her, Mountain a few strides behind them.

“Go, warn the vales! I will slow her down as much as I can,” Mountain roared, spinning to buck one of the support columns. Cracks formed up the column, culminating in the stone shattering under a second thunderous blow.

Around them, Gamla Uppsala shook, great granite blocks crashing down in a shower of dust and splinters that peppered River and Vixen’s armour. River couldn’t hold back a scream at the cold fire coursing through her from the wraiths’ claws. It was a great mercy when she fell into blackness and shadow.

* * *

“Greetings. I am, as you probably know, Princess Luna.”

Though her face was a dispassionate mask, one her sister wore so much more frequently and with greater ease, inside Luna was a swarming sea of excitement and anxiety.

When Bonnie had arrived at Fluttershy’s cottage to tell Luna that Shyara was not only in Ponyville —as Luna had suspected— but was at her home, Luna had been beside herself in anticipation of finally meeting the elusive filly. She had tried not to show it, to keep up regal appearances, but Luna hadn’t been able to contain the skip in her hooves nor the slight fluttering of her wings. Even the information that Shyara had been discovered because of a fight hadn’t been able to dampen her spirits.

Recalling the unusual method Tyr used to introduce herself, Luna added, “Goddess of the Moon, Primarch and Shepherd of the Night, daughter of Faust, and mother of Cadence.”

Shyara recoiled as Luna took another step into the room, but it also seemed to snap her out of whatever grim thoughts possessed her.

Ceasing her trembling, Shyara held her head high as she said in a squeaking voice, “Shyara, Goddess of Secrets, daughter of Astraea, Goddess of the Stars, by Nessus, God of Lies and Trickery.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Shyara,” Luna intoned. “You’ve lead us on quite the chase. Though I have to wonder, why are you in Ponyville rather than Canterlot? Were you and Miss Lulamoon not required to present yourselves to the court no later than last Friday?”

Internally, Luna cringed at the harshness in her voice. She knew her reputation as a stern and remorseless figure all too well, and hated how she always fell back into the old, aloof patterns when stressed or anxious. Trying hard to suppress the coldness in her tone and expression, Luna put on a vaguely warm smile, brushing past her own questions before Shyara could formulate a response.

“Nevermind, what’s done is done, as they say,” Luna said, relieved that the sharp bite in her voice had lessened.

“Are you going to… blast me into ashes now?” Shyara trembled, scooting towards a corner of the room.

“‘Blast you’?” Luna repeated, jerking back at the absurdity of the question. “Is that why you failed to arrive in Canterlot? Because you thought we’d ‘blast' you?”

A sharp giggle made Luna’s wings tremble and her mane snap as mirth boiled throughout her. The subject wasn’t all that funny, more so given what had occured with Tyr and her fostering, but Luna couldn’t help but laugh at the notion that she or her sister would ‘blast’ any filly. Even as the Nightmare, Luna hadn’t dreamed of harming any of the fillies and colts. Not when they would scream and hide under their beds at her passing, and not when they’d sit at their window sills praying for Celestia to bring back the sun.

“No,” Luna shook her head still giggling like a schoolfilly, “neither of us even began to think about ‘blasting’ you.” Luna paused and then said something she instantly regretted. “We don’t blast or smite ponies any more.”

Luna cringed as the words left her mouth while Bonnie shook her head.

“So, you do blast ponies!”

“Not anymore,” Luna stressed, grimacing at her own words.

Suspicion in her eyes and voice, Shyara pressed Luna, asking, “When was the last time?”

Luna made to respond only to turn her gaze to the ceiling in thought.

"A thousand years…" she muttered to herself as her hoof tapped an odd rhythm on the floor. "Many years ago, but that was in the heat of battle when..." her voice trailed off as a haunted look came over her. Quickly shaking it off, she continued, "The important point is that we are not going to blast, smite, or otherwise punish you.” A polite cough from Bonnie made Luna quickly add, “For being who you are.”

“B-But… when I prayed to Celestia in Vanhoover, and she came and burnt the city, and then I ran away, and she was so angry, and… and… I thought you were all mad at me.” Shyara pressed her ears flat to her head as she spoke, unable to look up at Luna.

“Yes, she went to save you from the shadowfiend and shade attacking the city.”

“W-What about on the train?” Shyara slowly uncurled from her ball. “Blueblood locked me up on the train. It made me think that maybe I did something wrong, or you were all angry at me and…”

“Wait, Blueblood? What does he have to do with anything?” The sharpness returned to Luna’s voice, as it always did, when she thought of the duke.

Hesitating, Shyara replied in a timid voice, “He found me on the train with Bonnie. I thought he was a nice pony, but he isn’t. He’s mean and selfish.”

“Yes, he is,” Luna agreed, unable and unwilling to contain any of the bitterness seeping into her tone. “We will have words with that… wastrel when we return to the palace,” Luna promised, the room darkening at her anger. “No doubt he ordered you to remain silent on the subject?” Luna cast a glance at Bonnie, receiving a slight nod of confirmation. “Threatening dire reprisals if you didn’t comply as well. Useless, self-absorbed, mare-mongering wretch. It is long past due for Cadence and I to have a conversation about what to do about the duke.”

Bonnie smirked at Luna’s words, saying, “I thought this would come into the light.”

“You did right, Bonnie,” Luna muttered, struggling to regain control of her anger. It always proved difficult when Blueblood was involved. “These games are best for a merchant to avoid.”

“What’s going to happen to Shyara now?” Sweetie asked, jumping off her bed in order to move to Shyara’s side.

“I had thought to bring her to Canterlot. However, there was a complication yesterday, and my sister thinks it best if I join Cadence and her herd in the Crystal City for a while.” Luna made no attempt to hide her dislike of the ‘plan’, as if running away could be called such. She had a few hours left to decide what to do before the train carrying Cadence and the others would pass through Ponyville.

On one hoof, Luna was thrilled with the idea of spending time with her estranged daughter. But Cadence would resent her presence. Especially if it was forced upon Cadence and her herd. There was also the tiny fact that Luna hated the idea of leaving Celestia alone with Zeus.

Selene had spotted the God of Storms as he lounged on a cloud-bed in Twilight’s old room, a book held in one hoof, a slice of pizza in the other, and a bowl of tomatoes sitting on his belly. It had not been how Luna had wanted to discover that one of the alicorns that had attacked her mother had reached the capital.

The morning papers had filled in the rest of the blanks. Headlines such as ‘Mystery Suitor to Court the Sun?’ and ‘Zeus, the Alicorn Stallion: Who Is He?’ had caught Luna’s eyes when she collected the papers from Fluttershy’s doorstep. Naturally, the rags were filled almost entirely with speculation and guesswork in addition to accounts of the events during court. Luna had just finished with the Canterlot Tribune and was beginning to read The Protector when Cadence’s letter asking Luna to join her in the Crystal City had materialised. It didn’t take Luna more than a few moments to realise the letter was Celestia’s idea.

“Is that whole Zeus thing real, then?” Bonnie asked, having read the papers as well. “Seems like a bad romance novel, dont’cha know.”

“Zeus?” Shyara jumped as if bitten. “What’s Grandfather doing on Ioka? He never, ever, ever leaves Gaea. Ever! Oh, this is bad. This is very, very bad.”

Shyara began to wring her hooves, glancing out a window as if she’d be able to spot Zeus in Canterlot.

“I agree, it is a most troubling development.” Luna nodded slowly.

“No, you don’t understand,” Shyara growled, switching to pacing back and forth. “Zeus is the only thing that held Gaea together. With him gone, Gaea will descend into chaos not seen since Nightstallion Anarchy appeared and destroyed Helios. The War of Light will be a picnic next to this. At least then Ares and the other Titans had to try to be somewhat covert and subtle to avoid attracting Zeus’ attention. With him gone it’ll be worse than… than… I can’t think of an analogy bad enough!

“Every little feud and grievance will be brought back up. Perses is going to have a field day with all the petty vengeance.” Shyara rubbed her temples as her ears began to flick, the corner of her right eye twitching. “And I left my first real friend there! Trixie and Rarity are stuck there, and they have no idea how bad Gaea can be when everything is going smoothly. Now? It’s like giving some earth ponies spears and telling them to fight Lepidus!”

A short giggle from Bonnie broke Shyara out of her rant. “Don’t you worry about my Rarity. She knows how to take care of herself.” Trotting to her daughter and Shyara, Bonnie wrapped them both in a crushing hug. “And don’t worry about your friend,” she said to Shyara, before she turned to Sweetie, adding, “or you about your sister. If there is a way home, Rarity will find it. I taught her everything I know. She’s a Belle, and we Belles are tough.”

Luna couldn’t help but wonder if Bonnie’s faith was misplaced. The few stories and hints of her home Tyr had let slip had painted a bleak and desolate picture: one filled with continual war and bloodshed, often in the name of appeasing one of many alicorns that made the world their home. She didn’t mention this, knowing that in the absence of action false hope was better than cold truth.

Looking up sweetly at her mother, Sweetie asked, “So, we’re not grounded then?”

“No, you’re both very grounded. Two weeks sounds about right for fighting, wouldn’t you agree, Princess?”

“It sounds… appropriate,” Luna said after contemplating the idea.

“Aww,” Sweetie intoned while Shyara just tossed up her hooves, snapping, “What in Gaea is ‘Grounded’?”

Luna, Bonnie, and even Sweetie all gave Shyara surprised looks.

“It means we have to stay in our rooms with no dessert or games,” Sweetie explained.

“What? I thought we were going to be tossed into holes or something!” The exasperation and relief Shyara felt clearly evident as the filly collapsed onto her back, wings splayed and tail flicking side-to-side. “Ioka is a strange place,” she concluded, giggling to herself.

“So Tyr keeps saying.” Luna joined in Shyara’s giggling. “Shyara, I’m going to put this choice to you. Do you want to go to Canter—”

“No!” Shyara quickly rolled to her hooves, eyes wild and frantic once more. “No, not with Zeus there! Grandfather will smite me for sure.”

Luna frowned at the certainty in Shyara’s voice and eyes, but didn’t argue the point. Shyara knew Zeus far better than any other pony except perhaps Tyr or the numerous shades. Those with intelligence and memory enough to recall Zeus anyways.

“Very well, then do you wish to go to the Crystal City with Tyr?”

Shyara considered this option for some time, pressing a hoof to her chin and eyes growing distant. In the end, she shook her head.

“No, I don’t think that is a good idea either. The hemmravn think that Ponyville is the best place for me to learn about my domain and the powers it grants me.”

Nodding, Luna said, “Then you and I will remain here, for the time being, and… what do ponies call it? House sit, yes, that is it. We shall house sit for Fluttershy while she is away. Is that acceptable?”

“I guess,” Shyara mumbled after receiving a little nod from Sweetie. “I have a little question though.” Shyara waited for Luna to motion for her to proceed. “Well, I said I’d help Sweetie and her friends with their act for the Summer Sun Talent Show. I was wondering if we’d still be able to do that if we’re grounded?”

It was Bonnie who answered, a low chuckle under her breath as she spoke. “Course you can. Can’t speak for the others, but if it’s okay with the princess, you can have a couple of hours in the afternoon to work on your act.”

“That is agreeable,” Luna bruskly said, stepping towards the door and motioning with a wing for Shyara to follow. “Come, Shyara, we should get you settled before we begin to explore your domain. I am very curious how you hide your presence so effortlessly.”

“Yeah, mother always used to complain about that too,” Shyara quipped as she followed Luna, a slight skip in her step.

Luna let out a long relieved breath, thanking Bonnie and promising a royal favour, should Bonnie ever require one. There was still much to do. Celestia needed to be covertly informed that Shyara was, finally, found. It was a small victory, one that gave Luna hope that they’d at last turned the corner and things would begin to settle.

* * *

Twilight woke from her nap feeling not quite rested, but no longer twitchy and nervous. Yawning, she stretched and looked out the window to see Zerubaba spread out below the carriage as it wound its way up towards the palace along a steep road. Just beyond a short barrier, the hill fell away to the manors of the Empire’s nobility and wealthy, on the other side a sharp incline lead to the battlements of the old castle that had sat upon the hill before the palace.

Faust was seemed lost in thought, staring out over the city and golden fields beyond.

“That was nice,” Twilight moaned. Checking her mane, she found Polaris still perched upon her brow, the star lost in a deep slumber and the carriage filled with her twinkling light. “Are we almost there?”

“Just about.”

Lifting a brow at her aunt’s disinterested tone, Twilight asked, “What’s concerning you?”

“It’s… nothing.” Faust shook her troubles away, putting on a brave smile as the carriage rounded a bend and entered the Golden Palace’s parade grounds.

A small army of guards and servants stood in rigid lines as the carriages drew to a stop and their doors were opened.

The Golden Palace proudly overlooked Zerubaba, a shining jewel in the noonday sun, her walls of pale yellow stone covered in reliefs and figurines. Four stories tall, with a roof of green copper, the palace was half-way through a truly massive reconstruction. Long neglected by the Malin dynasty of queens, the palace had fallen into disrepair and near ruin before the rise of the empress. Claiming all the nearby estates, the empress was creating a monument to reflect the greatness of her nation.

The entire southern side of the hill had been transformed into an open zoo, accessible only to the empress and the animal caretakers. Here, she collected birds and beasts from across the disc. It was her pride and joy, her sanctuary, and —some dared to whisper— her prison.

Today the din of the crafters’ hammers and chisels was gone. Scaffoldings removed, the great banners of the empress hung over the open walls of the western wing surrounding the parade grounds.

Twilight stepped out of the carriage and into the shade cast by the massive statue of a red dragon. The statue was so lifelike, she wouldn’t have been surprised if it turned to look at her. Each individual scale had been carved with loving care, the horns on the chin and crest real dragon bone. It wasn’t until one of the large golden eyes swung down to watch her, a thin puff of smoke exiting his nostrils, that Twilight realised the dragon was alive.

“Hui Humma, Stars,” the dragon rumbled, the scales at the corners of his eyes crinkling in a smile. Shifting his gaze to Faust, he dipped his head into a very slight bow. “Aiya Thuëlya. Andanéya, varnal emya qualmello. Vérelna úpaitya rhotan. Vanta moica ara Maatsheptra.” His voice echoed like bottled thunder inside the courtyard’s arms.

“Aiya Kéychlivék,” Faust replied, returning the dragon’s greeting.

Kéychlivék smiled at the use of his draconian name. The smile quickly vanished, replaced by cool indifference as the wyrm resumed staring out over the city below. Passing the dragon, Twilight lead the way onto a long, red carpet walkway.

Arrayed on either side of the carpeted walk to the palace’s colossal doors, the guards and servants bowed at the command of Halphamet, the crash of spears on shields and the heavy tread of armoured hooves ringing in the air. Guards stood before the servants, and before the guards were their commanders, and beside each of them was an ifrit.

As before, Twilight had to fight the urge to return the bows.

She waited for Rainbow, Pinkie, Fleur, and Timely to exit their carriages and join her before she slowly made her way forward.

Twilight felt almost a pretender as she glanced at the thousands of gathered zebras. She was a librarian and scholar, a mage of some repute, and the foster daughter of a minor noble. The last vestiges of her old self-concept vanished fully as Twilight passed the endless, bowing lines.  The complete faith in her flowing from zebricans completed what the prayers of the sailors aboard the Bellerophon had started.

Their reverence made her skin crawl. Her doubts resurfacing.

Unable to do anything but move forward —Twilight could hardly scamper back to her quarters in the Bellerophon and hide in her bunk— she put on a brave face, and reminded herself that compared to claiming that Cadence was an imposter in front of the wedding rehearsal, this was far less stressful, or liable to end in disaster.

Hovering on the edge of a daze, Twilight entered the palace, barely noting the tile mosaics covering floor, walls, and ceiling. Tall enough to accommodate the dragon sitting outside, the halls felt airy and immense. Inside as without, the walk was lined by bowing zebras, these all the wealthy merchants and what in Equestria would be considered the gentry, filling the gap between commoner and nobility. Evenly spaced out among them were more ifrit, the spirits’ manes making the walls glow with a ruby countenance.

Finally, the last set of doors swung open, the groaning of their hinges making the palace tremble. The ancient oak was covered in carvings depicting the founding of Zebrica. At the bottom, little zebra figures cast griffons into pits, Samalla standing on a low rise as she dictated the terms of the Compact to five supplicating kings. Above this was an image of the Battle of Blackrock. Here the zebra army and shamans had crushed the griffons, bringing generations of subjugation and enslavement to a brutal end. On the ground the soldiers were depicted using crossbows and ballistae to bring down the griffons, while the air was filled what appeared to be blossoming stars. Griffons fell out of the sky in scores. Again, Samalla was shown, the ancient heroine above the battle on a golden chariot of fire pulled by a dragon. The top half of the great door held the images of Samalla’s years forced to serve the griffons, and her time spent being experimented upon, ending with her claiming freedom.

Past the great doors, the imperial throne room echoed the rest of the palace, beyond grand in size and opulence. Here, the nobles stood, each wearing rings of gold around their necks and clothes in the Equestrian fashion. Minor nobles stood near the walls, the important lords and ladies next to the carpet or empress. Between them and Twilight, at attention, were the elite Empress’ Guards, their embossed armour sparkling. The entire chamber was made of alabaster, with gold-plated pillars running the length to the raised throne. Shawls of gold, crimson, and green silk were draped around the throne, hiding the empress. All except for two glowing points of light and a dark outline that shifted from side to side as Twilight entered the throne room.

Beside the throne, the crier raised her voice, an enchantment making it echo throughout the entire palace.

“To her Serene Imperial Majesty, Maatsheptra; Queen of the mighty Zebrican River, Empress of all the lands south of the great Dragon Desert, slayer of a dozen dragon raiders, Mother of East and West Zebrica, the glorious might of the empire, it is my solemn pleasure to announce her Divine Highness, Twilight Abigail Sparkle; Princess of the Taiga, Goddess of the Stars and Wishes, Diarch of the Night, She who cured the Nightmare and returned Sol, She who bested Chaos and returned Him to his cage, and her Divine Majesty, Faust Harmonious; Queen of All Ponies, Goddess of the Great Weave of Life, Mother of the Sun and Moon, Namegiver and Winter-Breaker.”

Bowing first to Twilight and Faust, then to the hidden empress, the crier backed off the dais.

“Long have I awaited your arrival,” the empress intoned in a voice floating and melodic. “The visions of this day have blessed my dreams since I was a foal. I am not disappointed.”

Twilight wasn’t surprised to feel magic lacing the empress’ voice, a minor enchantment meant to induce awe and respect. She was, however, caught off guard by the power contained within the magic’s source. While still not comparable to the energy given by an alicorn, it was, nevertheless, far beyond what any regular pony or zebra should have been able to produce. Curiosity about the empress washed away Twilight’s doubts.

There was a spicy aftertaste to the magic, vaguely reminiscent of the sun, but with a cool breath of mint as well that lingered in the air. Twilight easily placed the elemental and bright runes within the spell, but there was another component, one that surprised her. It was frizzy, and crackled, with a happy familiar bounce. It was the unmistakable energy of a Chaos Rune.

The Empress stepped down from her throne, the light falling upon her and showing Twilight the truth.

She was taller than Twilight had suspected, perhaps taller than Celestia, with a powerful chest, broad neck, and a brow that looked to have been chiseled from stone. It wasn’t an unpleasant face to look upon, but Twilight wouldn’t have called the empress ‘fair’ or ‘pretty’ if not for the glistening golden scales encircling her face, highlighting yellow, cat-like eyes. From just behind her ears rose a pair of spiralling horns. A thick, red and orange striped mane parted her horns, the strands almost dancing like the flames they imitated, hanging over the scales flowing down her neck. The scales were larger along her shoulders and down her back, and Twilight suspected they’d be hard as steel, yet supple as the coat of a panther. Thick shaggy fur mimicking her mane grew about her lower legs and a great cloud on the end of her tail. The Empress only had short white fur down her throat and on her underside.

A Kirin! Half dragon and half pony, or in the case of the empress, zebra. Twilight had read of the elusive creatures in mythology. Always the stories had them as heroes or villains, powerful beings of great purpose. Never were they plain or common, born to accomplish feats beyond mere ponies. The last kirin in Equestria had been Gem Flare the Resolute, a warrior-priestess of the Namegiver. She had died at the age of three hundred and seven in her bed in the year 849, Equestrian Reckoning.

Empress Maatsheptra smiled as she approached, giving Twilight a view of her sharp, predatory teeth. Her steps were precise and measured, a graceful flow that could not be matched, heightened by Maatsheptra’s shimmering scales. Everything about her sang of beauty and sensuality, a deep, passionate fire burning like embers behind her draconian eyes.

“Hui Humma, Mistress of Stars and Wishes,” the Empress said, her voice soft like the down of ducklings. The greeting was repeated to Faust. The remainder of Twilight’s party was ignored.

It took half a moment for Twilight’s brain to re-engage itself, and she replied, “Hui Humma, Empress of Zebrica.”

A few within the crowd gasped when Maatsheptra bowed her head to the two alicorns, and Twilight returned the gesture. Faust did not.

“You honour me, Stars, but I am far from thy equal.” Maatsheptra gave a slight laugh. Facing Twilight’s friends, the empress did not bow as she spoke to each. “Pinkamena Diane Pie, Rainbow Dash, it is fascinating to meet you both.”

“Hiya!” Pinkie bounced forth, reaching out to grab Maatsheptra’s hoof and give it a vigorous shake before she could be stopped. “Wow, you’re so shiny! Like Spike after the time he fell into Gummy’s pots of scale-wax. How do you do it? Gummy always looks so dull again after only a few hours playing outside.”

Grabbing ahold of Pinkie, Twilight pulled her friend away from the empress, all too well aware of the thunderous looks beneath the guards’ helms. The ifrit pulled back their lips to snarl at Pinkie, ears folding back and tails lashing.

“I’m sor—”

A quickly raised hoof by Maatsheptra begged Twilight’s silence, the empress’ not taking her gaze off Pinkie.

“This is my natural lustre, Pinkamena,” Maatsheptra slowly intoned. “As Celestia evokes the caress of Sol upon the disc, Luna is a gateway to the night, and Twilight carries the stars, I am the endless flame of the savanna.”

“Ooooh, I see,” Pinkie rapidly bobbed her head. “Mystical!”

“Indeed.” The word was followed by a thin laugh. “Finally, we come to the great conundrum. Fleur de Lis, she who hovers between mortality and eternity. So much about you is uncertain. Yours is a fate not to be envied.”

Performing a deep bow, Fleur said, “Better I than another, non?”

“Most assuredly.” Maatsheptra’s eyes hardened into yellow spears. “Any other and… No, I speak out of turn.”

Twilight wanted to ask what the empress knew of Fleur and Athena, and more importantly, how she knew. While it could have been that Maatsheptra could sense the growing energy radiating off Fleur —it had grown to a point where side-by-side Fleur and Maatsheptra seemed equals in power— Twilight suspected more was at play. While there was certainly a large amount of theatrics by Maatsheptra, Twilight could see the underlying cunning within the empress’ eyes.

Deciding to add the questions to the ever-growing list Twilight had in her head, she turned and signaled her cadre of guards to step forward with the chest containing the gifts for the empress. Within the large chest sat four smaller boxes, each reflecting the originator of the gift.

Celestia’s box was made from a single pearl grown by the dragon-turtles of the Peycific Ocean. Banded in gold and protective wards, the box alone was worth a fortune greater than those held by many a king or queen. Within was a treasure greater still, for the box contained one of Philamena’s eggs, Celestia’s trusted phoenix companion.

Lapis Lazuli had been used to construct Luna’s box, with platinum inlays and latches on the side. Upon the lid was inscribed the crest of the moon, a gentle, pale light making the box glow. Inside, on a velvet cushion, sat what at first glance seemed to be an ordinary, grey stone. Maatsheptra’s eyes lit up as she lifted the stone, holding it high for the gathered court to see.

“A true Moonstone,” the empress breathed in awe, causing the crowd to shift and murmur. “There are but three on the disc.”

Placing the stone back within its box, Maatsheptra turned her attention to the gift sent by Cadence. The largest of the boxes, it was long and slender, made from crystal grown within the Crystal City. Unlike the others, Maatsheptra didn’t reveal what the box contained, quickly snapping the lid shut again, a long laugh making her shake and the corners of her eyes crinkle.

As she came down from her mirth, Maatsheptra set the box down protectively beside her, saying, “Princess Cadence is an interesting one.”

At last, Maatsheptra came to Twilight’s gift.

Shifting nervously from hoof to hoof as her box was removed from the chest, Twilight watched Maatsheptra for any reaction. Unlike the opulence of the previous ones, Twilight’s box was simple, plain rosewood with a little brass lock. What couldn’t be seen were the layers of magic Twilight had placed onto the box. It was an ancient enchantment, one not practiced since the days of Star Swirl the Bearded.

Inside, the box was vastly larger than its outside dimension should have allowed; a cavernous pocket capable of containing a similar volume as the entirety of Canterlot’s vaults. At the moment there was only one small object within: a single seed of the Sparkle flower. It was both a very personal gift —the Sparkles never gave away the seeds of their flowers— and a valuable one. Not because the flowers had some powerful magical properties —they were completely ordinary and non-magical— and they weren’t precisely rare either. But they were closely tied to House Sparkle.

Maatsheptra’s face was unreadable as she gazed down on the simple seed. Twilight began to chew on her lower lip as, still impassive, the empress placed the seed back into the box, and set both back down.

“How many?” she asked, still looking at the box.

“That’s the first in almost twelve hundred years,” Twilight answered.

“I’m honoured you would intrust me with one,” Maatsheptra tore her eyes away from the box, her smile making Twilight breath with relief. “These are all truly impressive gifts. I hope that in the coming years, our nations and subjects can come closer together. For tonight, we shall feast and you shall stay here in my palace as my treasured guests.”