Myths and Birthrights: The Archive

Myths and Birthrights

By Tundara

Part Two: Tremors in the East

Chapter Eight: Journey’s Start

It was with some reservation that Fleur stepped into Carousel Boutique. Ahead of her, Princess Twilight moved with old familiarity while a pair of Pegasi guards from the Royal Legion quickly positioned themselves to flank the door into the shop. A few unicorn battle-mages stood a short distance away attempting to look inconspicuous, eyes scanning the town square for any threat to the princess. The large white unicorns looked about as inconspicuous as a dragon in a tie-dyed cape. Fleur had to contain a sigh at the pointlessness of the guards. Anything capable of harming an Alicorn would make short work of the pegasi and battle-mages.

But Celestia and Luna had both insisted Twilight bring a detail with her, and when Shining and Cadence joined the argument against her, Twilight relented.

Through the store’s showroom and into the kitchen the princess and the ambassador walked. Fleur was greeted by light chatter and the smell of freshly baked scones mixing with chamomile tea as she stepped into the familiar room. Around the wide table sat the Elements of Harmony. Rainbow Dash looked to be almost half asleep, while Pinkie Pie was bouncing her chair up and down, her face split by the biggest grin and her mane practically shooting sparks it was so frizzy.

“Okay, Twi, why don’t you tell us what that letter this morning was all about?” Applejack said from where she leaned her chair beneath one of the room’s windows, her hat slanted over her face to shade her eyes from the morning sun.

Twilight’s excitement was palpable as she slid into a chair. “We found one of the two missing Alicorns.”

From the way all the ponies were sitting it was evident that they had conducted similar meetings over the years. Fleur felt a little out of place among the group of heroines. Even Fluttershy seemed more at ease than Fleur felt, the butter-yellow Pegasus gently blowing on her tea as she sat beside Rarity and Rainbow Dash.

“Well, that’s good, ah suppose.” Applejack gave a sly smile to Dash before adding, “So, is she claiming to be your first cousin once removed or something?”

“Naw, AJ, probably thinks Twi’s her mom,” Dash scoffed, sending both mares into a fit of laughter.

“No, she is mine,” Fleur snapped before she could catch her tongue. Her eyes went wide at the deep flare of anger and protective urge to defend a filly she’d never met. Blushing heavily under the looks sent her way, Fleur made to excuse herself from the room.

“Darling, um, I was under the impression you,” Rarity darted a quick look around her friends, and then in a soft voice continued, “couldn’t have foals.”

Fleur froze as if she’d just turned a corner and bumped noses with a Timberwolf. Her mouth opened and closed a couple times, but no words passed her lips. Rarity’s eyes quickly doubled in size, the fashionista covering her own mouth as she gasped like a meadowlark being strangled.

“Oh, Fleur, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean, I just... Please, forgive me?”

“N-no, it’s alright. The truth should always be alright, even if it sometimes hurts.”

Clearing her throat, Twilight asked Fleur to stay and take a seat. The ambassador sat silently onto a stool near a corner where she’d be out of the way, and hopefully less likely to further embarrass herself.

“Um, It’s kind of both, actually,” Twilight began, tapping her hooves together as she explained about Fleur, the other soul inside her, and how her dreams were in fact memories surfacing. Rarity tensed a little at the mention of dreams and souls, hiding her expression behind her tea cup.

Fleur vaguely recalled Rarity mentioning having more than one dream. In all the confusion and events surrounding Twilight’s Awakening and coronation, the two hadn’t had an opportunity to speak more about the issue. As her own dreams began to consume her mind, Fleur had forgotten entirely about Rarity having the same issue.

Resolving to speak with Rarity before leaving Ponyville, Fleur kept silent.

“So, Puff the Smokey Alicorn is hiding inside Fleur?” Pinkie tapped a hoof to her chin.

“It’s doubtful it is ‘Puff’, Pinkie,” Twilight shook her head. “The smoke that came out of Fleur to protect her didn’t look or feel like Puff.”

“There are more of them smoke-things?” Applejack gave a little shudder.

“Um, Fleur isn’t in any danger, is she?” Fluttershy whispered in the brief silence as Twilight considered Applejack’s question.

“Almost certainly there are more, and... we honestly have no idea if Fleur will be alright or not, Fluttershy.” Twilight gave Fleur an apologetic look. “We’re dealing with forbidden magic that hasn’t been seen since before the founding of Equestria. No pony can say what’ll happen to Fleur. Our best hope is that by retrieving the filly it’ll satisfy the other soul inside Fleur and it’ll leave her of its own accord. Otherwise?” Twilight just shrugged and looked morosely into her tea. “But that is why I’m here, in part. I’m going on a journey to retrieve the filly, as well as deal with all the complaints about how I’m letting the stars dance. We’ll be going by train to Baltimare, and from there going by ship to Zebrica and Griffonia. After we collect the alicorn filly, we’ll take a round-a-bout route home, going via Camelon, Germaneigh, Prance, and finally Trotugal before taking passage back home. Should take about four months before we’re home, most of that because of the time crossing the Equis Ocean.  It’d be less if I didn’t have to answer all the concerns about me and the stars. The dancing wasn’t even my idea, it was Arrakis’, I just said it was okay if she wanted to dance, and then the others began to join her. Now over half the stars are dancing, and to be honest, I rather enjoy it myself. It makes them so happy after countless years of them just making the same slow movements across the night sky.”

Twilight continued to stare into her tea after her short rant. Ears flicking to her silent friends, Twilight looked up, and with an obviously forced smile, asked, “So, who wants to join me?”

“I’d love to, Twi, but the farm and my family need me. I can’t be gone for months on end.”

“As much as visiting Prance and Germaneigh would be delightful, such a long journey is out of the question, I’m sorry. More so since my mother will be returning from one of her business trips next week. Father has taken my aunts to meet her and I have to take care of Sweetie until they return.”

“Oh, no, I just can’t leave my little animal friends. And Griffonia is so very far away from here, and so very close to the Dragon Desert and all the dragons that live there, I just, no.”

“Sure! My best foalhood friend was a griffon. Gilda told me all about the griffon code of honour and how they have all these cool flank kicking rituals and trials for things.”

Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash all spoke at the same time, each shaking their heads sadly, or grinning broadly in Dash’s case. Fleur saw Twilight almost deflate a little when three of her best friends so quickly said they couldn’t join her.

"Oh, oh! Pick me, pick me! I want to go, pick me!"

Sighing ever so slightly, Twilight turned to Pinkie, "Pinkie, I was asking if you wanted to come."

“Yeah, but it is more fun to be picked to come. So, can I come? Please?” Pinkie dragged out the final word, her eyes growing somehow larger as she clasped her hooves in front of her.

Barely stopping a face-hoof in time, Twilight groaned, “Pinkie, I pick you.”

“Well, I don’t know. I’m rather busy foal-sitting the twins, and now that the Season is over, ponies start having all their ‘Yay! A New Foal Is On The Way!’ parties.”

Twilight’s eye twitched as she stared incredulously at her friend.

"Heh, heh, you should see the look on your face Twi. Of course I’m going to come. That makes four, the perfect party size for a group of swarthy adventuring types." Pinkie was practically vibrating around the room, her widest most Pinkiest smile on her face.

"Pardon?" Applejack tilted her head to one side, and Fleur found her own expression matching the farmer’s.

"Yeah, Dashie is a monk with her speed and karate. Fleur must be a bard with her knowledge of history and nations and stuff, and she’s a unicorn, so she must have magic. Twi is a cleric... or wizard. Ooo, a cleric/wizard! And that means I get to be the fighter? Hmm, I'm going to have to respec." Pinkie plunked down onto her rump, rubbing her chin with a hoof, tongue hanging from the corner of her mouth in what Ponyvillians knew as the 'Thinking Pinkie'.

"I-I am terribly confused what your friend is going on about, Princess," Fleur said, slowly looking between an exasperated Twilight and the energetic Lady Pie.

"Don't worry about her none, sugarcube, she's talking about some game we play over the winter. Pinkie Pie is just being Pinkie Pie. You get used to her hardly making a lick of sense." Applejack laughed as she and the others stood.

“Well, I guess that’s settled then. I wish you three were coming as well. It’ll be weird going on an adventure without all of you. Dash, Pinkie, we’ll be taking the morning train, so you better get packing. And, I’m going to assume there will be a farewell party.” Pinkie vigorously nodded her head. “I guess we’ll all see each other there. I’m going to stop off at the library and see how the new librarian is settling in.”

“Here, let me help, mon amie,” Fleur called to Rarity, lifting up a few of the empty saucers and cups with her magic. Left alone as all the others went off to do what they needed to accomplish, the two shared pleasant empty banter, not really saying anything other than enjoying the company while cleaning the room. Fleur was mildly surprised to see that confetti and candy sprinkles had fallen beneath half of the table. Sweeping the brightly coloured bits up, she finally asked, “Rarity, why didn’t you tell the princess that you’ve also been having dreams?”

Rarity stiffened in front of the sink. Slowly turning to face Fleur, and brandishing a spoon like it was a weapon, she hissed, “Because it is no-ponies concern but mine, and if you tell Twilight anything about them I will destroy you, understand?” Eyes glowing and narrowed into slits that promised a slow painful death, she jabbed the spoon at Fleur. After a few seconds the glow dissipated. Blinking rapidly, Rarity threw a hoof over her mouth as she looked between the spoon and the corner she’d backed Fleur into, quickly apologizing, “Fleur, I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

“I-it’s alright,” Fleur said, kicking the spoon away as she felt her heart begin to slow after the panic of Rarity’s reaction started to fade. “I reacted similarly when confronted by Queen Iridia.”

“Yes, Twilight mentioned that,” Rarity sighed, sinking into a chair and laying her chin on the table. “I don’t know what to think or believe anymore, darling.”

“Why don’t you tell me? I think of any pony, I have the best chance of understanding, no?”

Nodding stiffly from the table, Rarity said, “I’ve only had six, no seven, and they’ve all been so terrible and frightening and sad, except one.” A light whimsical grin found its way onto the fashionista’s muzzle. “In that one I was sitting in front of a fire-place reading a book. I had three daughters, all curled up against my side as I read to them and they slowly drifted off to sleep. Mneme, Aoide, and Melete were their names. Their father entered the room. I can’t clearly recall him, except he was the colour of polished brass and had a deep rolling laugh that I chided him for using with the fillies sleeping. He helped me carry them to their beds as I sung them a lullaby.”

Rarity’s voice grew far-away and sad, a lilting string that could make the mountains weep glacial tears.

Lullaby, and good night,

With pink roses bedight,

With lilies o'erspread,

Is my babies’ sweet heads.

Lay you down now, and rest,

May thy slumber be blessed.

Lay you down now, and rest,

May thy slumber be blessed.

Lullaby, and good night,

You're your mother's delight,

Shining alicorn beside,

My darlings abide.

Soft and warm is your bed,

Close your eyes and rest your head.

Soft and warm is your bed,

Close your eyes and rest your head.

Sleepyheads, close your eyes.

Mother's right here beside you.

I'll protect you from harm,

You will wake by my side.

Guardian heroes are near,

So sleep on, with no fear.

Guardian heroes are near,

So sleep on, with no fear.

Lullaby, and sleep tight.

Hush! My darlings are sleeping,

On their sheets white as cream,

With their heads full of dreams.

When the sky’s bright with dawn,

They will wake in the morning.

When noontide warms the world,

They will frolic in the sun.

Tears streamed down Rarity’s face as the last note of the lullaby drifted away through the open window. Gingerly, she wiped away the tears and running mascara with a nearby cloth.

“You are Beauty,” Fleur whispered, wiping away a small tear that worked its way to her chin. “I-I encountered her in one of my dreams, during the... dark days of the war. She is the mother of the Muses, and they were killed by... Oh, je suis désolé mon amie.”

Stiffening a little, Rarity dropped the cloth on the table. Giving Fleur a hard look, she lifted her nose into the air.

“No, I am Rarity, not whomever it is that, according to Twilight and you, seems to be sharing my head. I am not an arrogant, cold alicorn. I am not the mother of the muses. I have never been married. And I most certainly have not partaken in any wars. Whatever this is,” Rarity gestured at her head, “I will not let it get the better of me. I don’t need to go traipsing across the ocean to deal with this. I am Rarity, and I can manage, am I understood?”

“Oui.”

“Good. Now, I’d prefer to discuss something other than all this business about dreams and what-not. It is giving me a headache.”

Head still lifted high, Rarity left the kitchen. Fleur continued to sit and ponder, wondering what other surprises were in store in the days ahead. She didn’t agree with Rarity’s decision, especially since it was clear that their dreams were connected. Shrugging her shoulders, Fleur decided it must be a heroine thing.

* * *

Vanhoover, the city of the Seven Peaks, home to the bourgeoning picture-film industry, there was a theater on every street with shows playing nightly year round. Two opera houses sat on the shore, their halls filled with music each evening. It was a city of beauty and passion that had arisen from simple beginnings as a lumber town. The buildings weren’t as tall or grand as those of Manehatten, and there wasn’t the rich history of Canterlot or Baltimare, but in their place was a vibrant youth and vitality.

Less than a day away sat the sole pass across the Crystalspine Mountains, beyond it lay the mysterious true north and lands no pony had set hoof in and returned. As one of only two ports on Equestria’s western shore, Vanhoover was filed with the tall masts of sailing vessels while near the harbour a frenzy of activity could be seen from a distance as the Great Experiment was built; a coal powered ship.

She had already been given the nickname of Lady Luna in honour of Luna’s return just days after her keel was laid. Revolutionary in every respect, she was to be built from steel rather than wood. In place of masts and sails she had coal-fed steam engines, like those of modern trains, that turned two giant propellers. But it was her size and luxury that truly set her apart. She would tower over the older sailing ships and be almost three times as long and twice as fast. Dining rooms and spacious cabins for the rich gentry and nobility filled the top decks, with smaller berths below for the commoners. Lady Luna was a marvel of modern equine engineering and thinking in every regard. But, at only half completed, it’d be another few years before her maiden voyage.

Trixie and Shyara learned all this as they went from theater to theater looking for any willing to take Trixie’s show and stomach her arrogance.

“Well, Trixie never heard of such bull-headedness,” the showmare growled through grinding teeth as the pair left behind another theater with no job. “’Any unicorn can do magic’? Pah, simpletons, all of them are simpletons. The Great and Powerful Trixie should have known better than to come to an Earth Pony city.”

Remaining silent, Shyara kept her eyes fixed on the glass fronted shops that comprised the merchant district. This was the first time she’d ever set hoof in a mortal city and everything about it surprised and shocked her. Ponies jostled each other in the narrow streets as they carried bags of goods. A few carriages moved through the crowds, their drivers shouting for ponies to move aside. A sea of top-hats and feathered hats showed the city to be a place of fashion and culture for the gentry, while unclothed commoners, or ponies from the outlying towns and villages came in on the morning trains to conduct their business before they’d return home in the evening, moved in a swarm of pastel colours.

Every few steps gave the filly new sights, and when they entered the restaurant district she was assaulted by a wave of mouth watering smells. Food from every corner of the world was served and left Shyara dizzy with hunger. She almost wanted to ask Trixie if they could stop to eat. The single minded look on the blue mare’s face dissuaded Shyara, and with some effort she suppressed the question. Trixie noticed the hungry eyes the young alicorn used to watch the ponies dining at a Prench styled bistro.

“After Trixie finds work, she’ll take you to a nice place to eat, how about that?” Trixie asked, surprising Shyara.

Giving her protector a happy smile and nod, she stepped closer to Trixie, shifting her wings a little under the enchanted vest Trixie had made for her. It itched and pulled at her feathers, but if it kept her hidden Shyara wasn’t going to complain. Any of the ponies in the city could be worshipers or followers of a Titan. All it’d take would be a single prayer that got a Titan’s attention and they’d come looking for her. No enchanted vest would be able to hide her once another alicorn was close.

Shyara was puzzled though. In the city, and before it the towns and villages they’d stopped in briefly, there were no temples to any of the Titans or Goddesses. Well, except for the Temple of Names they’d passed entering the city. In front of the white marble building several priestesses sat asking for donations to assist with caring for orphans.

Trixie had sneered at the priestess that approached and stated, “I give generously daily,” before hurrying along, leaving Shyara staring at the statue of the alicorn between the temple doors.

The statue sat smiling benevolently down on the ponies entering or leaving the temple, her wings outstretched like they were shading the doors. Painted a pure white with red mane and steel-grey eyes, the statue seemed to stare into and through Shyara, making the filly tremble.

“Who is that?” she shouted down from atop Trixie’s wagon to the priestess that Trixie had berated.

Chuckling at Shyara’s naiveté, the priestess said, “That is the lady of fate, the Namegiver, and according to our oldest and most sacred texts, the mother of Celestia and Luna.”

“Oh,” Shyara muttered, tilting her head in confusion. “I thought Celestia was born from the thoughts of Order, springing into being in a burst of fire to bring light to the endless dark of the world. Luna was then born to bring back the dark so that there would be balance between the Light and Dark giving us night and day.”

The priestess laughed, little tears of mirth in the corners of her eyes.

Stopping the cart, Trixie sent her best glare up towards an oblivious Shyara. Seeing the filly wasn’t paying attention, she snapped, “Leave the priestess alone.”

“That is quite the imagination your daughter has,” the priestess said as she stood up and approached the cart. “What is her name?”

“Shy Spell,” Trixie answered automatically, used to giving the answer and the assumption she was Shyara’s mother. “She isn’t my daughter, either. Her parent’s passed away leaving her with me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for your losses,” the priestess said, covering her mouth with her hoof in shock. “May Celestia, Luna, Cadence, and Twilight watch over the both of you,” she added before watching as Trixie pulled the wagon into the city.

Trixie’s step hesitated for a half-moment, almost causing her to trip and fall before she regained her balance. “Princess Twilight Sparkle, some ponies have all the luck,” Trixie grumbled, glowering towards the priestesses before flickering her gaze to Shyara. “Well, Trixie is lucky, and talented as well,” she added with a smirk, "plus, Trixie isn't an alicorn pretending to be a normal unicorn that ruins other ponies lives and professions."

They ended up leaving the wagon in a lot behind an inn, the streets too packed to pull their home, while Trixie hunted for work. She could get a street performers license to perform near the large sea-side park, but Trixie kept insisting the real bits and fame only came from having a stage in one of the theaters. Privately Shyara thought it was hopeless. She knew better than to voice her concerns to Trixie though.

Passing a park, Shyara’s attention was grabbed by a group of fillies and colts running around a small copse of trees.

“Riot, stop, I got you already,” one of the fillies shouted at a small palomino pegasus colt.

“No you didn’t,” the colt taunted as he flapped his wings to help him buzz up one of the tree. The unicorn filly that had called to him stopped at the tree’s base, growling as she stomped her hooves. “And now you can’t ever get me, nyah!”

“No fair, we said no flying or magic!” the unicorn shouted, her call being echoed by several other fillies and colts.

Looking to Trixie, the showmare knocking on the door to yet another theater, Shyara bit her lower lip, then slowly began to approach the playing youngsters. All of them, she noted as she approached, already had their Soul Marks. Glancing at her blank flank, Shyara chewed on her lower lip a little more before stepping closer.

“Hi,” she said to a small black unicorn colt that was watching the other youngsters with a smug grin on his face. His mark was a pair of tornados, their tips touching so they formed a ‘V’.

Looking Shyara over, he tilted his head a little, saying, “Hullo. You new? I don’t recall seeing you around the neighborhood before.”

“Um, yes, my name’s Shy Spell.”

“Twister, of House Swirl,” the colt responded before turning his attention back to the argument at the tree.

“What are you playing?” Shyara asked as she sat down beside Twister.

“Predators and Ponies,” Twister responded lazily, not noticing the startled look that flashed behind Shyara’s eyes. “Snow Drops is a predator, if she catches you then you have to go to the time out spot for five minutes. Riot’s cheating though. He always cheats.”

“Can I join your game?” Shyara asked, looking between the various youngsters, almost a dozen in number. A few turned to her, a couple of the youngest in the group smiling and excitedly bobbing their heads.

“I don’t know, blank-flank,” sneered a bright orange earth pony filly with a pair of crossed hammers on her flank. “Think you’ll be able to keep up?” Her eyes sparkled with malicious intent that almost made Shyara regret leaving Trixie.

“Oh, come off it, Ball-Peen, doesn’t matter if she’s blank-flanked,” Twister snorted as he stood and approached the tree. “New game every pony! Riot, you’re out of the game since you cheated. New filly and Snow Drops are predators, everypony else is a pony. No magic, flying, or special talents allowed, okay?”

The gathered youngsters all nodded or clapped their hooves in excitement as Shyara walked towards where Snow Drops sat. Above them Riot snorted and called the ponies various names as he pouted. Shyara could sense that the palomino colt was going to cause problems of some sort. Snow Drops tilted her bluish-white head and blew a lock of white mane out of her eyes as Shyara joined her.

Turning to face the tree while covering her eyes, Snow Drops asked, “You ever play ‘Predators and Prey’ before, new filly?”

“Um, well, no,” Shyara admitted as she mimicked Snow’s posture. “But it sounds a lot like a game me and my cousins used to play.”

“Okay, well you stay close to the trees. With your darker coat you’ll be able to hide and sneak better than me. I’ll see if I can flush them out and herd them towards you.”

“Sure, I guess,” Shyara said as Snow began to loudly count.

Once the unicorn reached a hundred the game was started. Shyara quickly slipped into the well maintained trees and bushed in the park’s center. A little shiver of anticipation worked its way up her back as she moved from shadow to shadow. It quickly became clear that Snow Drops knew of all the good hiding spots, the unicorn racing back and forth, easily catching some of the younger ponies or driving those faster than her to where Shyara lay in wait.

A wide grin plastered on her face and a ready laugh willing to be given at a moment’s notice, Shyara would leap from cover to tag the unsuspecting filly or colt. It felt good, it felt right, it felt like something she’d almost forgotten over the past few years as the armies of Ares and Chranus marched across the land slaughtering and destroying any who followed the Alicorns of Harmony. Too long it had been since she’d just been able to play with youngsters, even if they were mortals.

Almost invisible beneath the leaves of a fern, Shyara watched as Twister and then Snow Drops came sprinting around the trees. The older colt had a good few strides on Snow Drops, but his route would take him right past where Shyara crouched. Licking her lips, Shyara began to shake her behind a little as she readied her pounce, like the good predator she was pretending to be. Around her the ferns shifted and shimmied in the still afternoon light, creating a slight rustle. Ignoring the ferns, Shyara focused all her attention on Twister as the colt drew closer and closer.

Just before she was going to pounce something hot and wet landed beside her head. Eyes shrinking to pin-pricks, she slowly looked at the glob of slime that had just fallen from above her. A low growl, as primordial as the foundations of the mountains surrounding the city, trembled through the shadows and rattled Shyara’s boned. Rotating her head back to look up, Shyara’s voice came out as a whimpering little yelp as she saw a black mass of something above her. Twister’s hooves thundered passed Shyara’s hiding spot as the thing above her opened its mouth, a mouth filled with large teeth and even larger fangs.

Shyara screamed at the same time as the something roared, the ferns billowing in its fetid breath. Calling for Trixie and her mother, Shyara darted out of the trees, her initial scream being joined by those of the other youngsters.

The something followed Shyara out into the open field of the park, the shadows seeming to expand and chase the filly rather than the monster stepping out of them itself. Six great ethereal paws sunk into the soft grass as the monster followed Shyara with its glowing golden eyes. Easily twice the height of a regular pony, the monster oozed confident danger as it ignored all the fillies and colts save Shyara. Head and body shaped like a cat, two long tails whipped and danced as the monster pounced.

Giving a short scream, Shyara darted to the side her little leg moving as fast as they could and her wings trying to flap beneath her vest. Landing only a few strides from the terrified filly, the shadow spun, twin tails cutting and stretching through the grass. Out of the corner of her vision Shyara saw the tails too late. With a slight crack, Shyara’s legs were swept from beneath her, sending her tumbling across the field. Panic continuing to grow, she struggled back to her hooves, turning her head just in time to see the monster leap forward again.

Shyara was vaguely aware of Snow Drops and Twister screaming her fake name and telling her to run, but she was stuck to the spot. Her legs refused to work, each tripping over the other when she tried to run so she fell face first back into the dirt.

“Shy Spell!” Snow Drops screamed as a paw slammed down on Shyara, pinning her back half to the ground.

Head snapping down, the shadowy cat bit at Shyara’s back only to find and tear off her vest. Screaming frantically as her wings snapped out to beat the air and her fore-hooves desperately dug at the ground, Shyara prayed desperately for some-pony, anypony, to save her. As the shadow tossed aside the torn vest, Shyara called again for Trixie, her mother, adding her grandmother, aunts, and even great aunts to the list. Mouth slowly descending towards its trapped prey, the shadow growled in anticipation of its satisfaction.

Sobbing as she felt the monster’s icy cold breath on her neck, Shyara wondered if she’d see her cousins in the Elysian Fields waiting for her. Would she even go to the fields? It was a place for the honourable and heroic; she was neither. And she was supposed to be a goddess. She heard that the gods and goddesses killed in the war became echoes, would that happen to her instead of going to an afterlife? The questions had barely been formed when a long shrill howl pierced the day drawing the shadow’s mouth away from Shyara’s neck.

From out of the sun fell a second shadow; one like a black cloud hissing and shrieking as it dove towards the earth. Magenta lines of magic crackled around its form as it slammed into the monster pinning Shyara. Rolling together, both shadows disappeared back into the trees and ferns that had hidden Shyara during the game. From within their boughs came piercing roars and terrible booms of trees being splintered and collapsing to the ground. Brilliant flashes of light showed snap-shots of the fight being conducted away from the gaze of the sun, the shadow-cat and cloud spinning and grappling each other.

From the copse came only a few words, repeated over and over, each coinciding with a flash of light. “Protect her! Must protect her!”

Hooves wrapped around Shyara, dragging the stunned alicorn away from the scene. In the distance sirens began to blare and dozens of pegasi flocked towards the park. After only a few yards the hooves pulling her were replaced by a gentle blue-white glow of magic. She was barely aware of the streets and startled looks ponies shot at her as she was carried by her rescuer. It was only as the yellow roof of Trixie’s wagon came into sight that Shyara shook off the fear gripping her thoughts.

“Come on, get inside,” Trixie ordered as she raced to the wagon’s reins. “What did I tell you? ‘Stay by my side and stay hidden’, and you couldn’t do that?”

Shyara hung her head as she jumped inside the wagon and poked open the window above the reins.

“W-what was that thing?” Shyara asked in a quivering voice.

“I, Trixie, believes it is a Shadowfiend. They used to roam the woods that were here before the city. They’re supposed to be extinct though,” Trixie said as she began to rapidly pull the wagon through the panic filled streets. Ponies either ran for cover or sat staring dumbly towards the source of the commotion. “Keep the window closed and your head down. We can’t afford to be caught now,” Trixie snapped out of the side of her mouth to Shyara.

Nodding mutely, the alicorn filly grabbed the pull rope to close the window, only to stop as a sudden pressure struck her at the base of her horn. Groaning, she rubbed her head and fell back into the wagon. Somewhere, very close, an alicorn was seething and pouring out her rage. Teeth buzzing in her head, Shyara began to tumble down into the waiting embrace of sleep.

* * *

Celestia slowly massaged her temples as she listened to the latest petitioners to her Daycourt. A dispute between House Dust and the city of Manehatten that had bounced through the lower courts and before several of Celestia’s Arbiters, only to end up in her hooves. She’d set up the Arbiters and court houses to avoid having to deal with such bitter and petty disputes. With Luna also back, and more than willing to be involved in such legal matters, Celestia had hoped to have even less involvement in the bickering of the Nobility and the two so-called Free Cities of Manehatten and Vanhoover.

If an important petition reached Celestia’s court it invariably involved one of the two cities in some capacity. Both founded by Earth ponies during the time of the Everfree Council, neither directly answered to the crown or any of the nobility. Hence the belief that they were freer than other cities. The last time Celestia had to personally become involved in a dispute between one of the cities and one of the Noble Houses had been in response to the city of Vanhoover confiscating almost all the property of the Swirl House and auctioning it off. The city had kept half the proceeds and given the other half to the Swirl House.

House Swirl had been furious, and after years in the various courts had brought their grievances directly before Celestia. The princess smiled as she recalled what she’d said after five boring days hearing all the details from both sides.

“No one tradition or system of governance is better than another. You sought to buy half the city and in doing so become the Duchess of Vanhoover. The city’s laws are very clear in this matter, I must rule in their favour.”

Celestia had hoped her decision would have smartened the nobility enough to avoid the free-cities for at least a generation. Her smile nearly faltered as she realized it had been almost fifty years since the Vanhoover vs. Swirl decision.

Taking care to maintain her calm facade, Celestia turned to the two ponies beside her. Chronicle, her seneschal, looked almost as bored as Celestia felt. Still, he listened to the arguments attentively, though he barely tried to stifle his yawns. Next to him sat Tyr, a keen look that should have been impossible flickering across her eyes.

The filly was adamant that she be allowed to attend and watch court. Cadence had at first refused, but acquiesced after thinking about the merits and how Tyr wanted to take part in what most ponies considered boring state affairs. So long as Tyr behaved herself during schooling, Cadence gave her permission. Surprised by Tyr’s request to join Daycourt, Celestia had happily allowed her presence, and had even begun to make a little game of it by asking Tyr’s opinion.

“So, what do you think?” Celestia whispered, aware that hundreds of eyes stared at the trio.

“It’s not as clear-cut as Vanhoover versus House Swirl in fifteen seventeen. House Dust was purchasing only the buildings and not the land itself. This still left the city as their land-lord. But it also cannot be denied that they were consolidating their control of the lower city. Almost a third of the area was paying rent to House Dust. I can’t find anything in the city’s laws that strictly prevent such a method of acquisition or the amount of buildings any one House may hold. Everything mentions land only.”

Chronicle gazed over his floating notes as he spoke, using the rolls of parchment as an impromptu shield between him and the court. Tyr gave a little snort of digression from her cushion.

“Manehatten was wrong to take away the Dust unicorn’s buildings. They weren’t doing anything wrong or bad, and even the city admits they were improving and making things better by fixing the older places.”

Smiling sweetly at the simplistic view of the filly, a filly over a hundred years old, but still just a filly Celestia stood to give her judgement. A hush fell across the chamber as the petitioners and Canterlot’s elite waited.

Taking a breath and going over again in her mind her decision, Celestia’s ear twitched as she heard a scream. The court remained unmoving, a little frown beginning to find purchase on her usually placid face. Again came the scream, and with it a hysterical voice.

Celestia, somepony, please!

At once the princess’ features hardened, her wings extending as she sought the source of the prayer. It took her half a beat of her suddenly racing heart to shift through the hundreds of voices calling her name at any given moment and homing in on the one she sought. Her ancient eyes widened as her divine gaze fell upon a silvery-grey filly pinned beneath the paw of a Shadowfiend. A silvery-grey filly with wings and a horn.

“Court is adjourned for the day!” Celestia shouted to the gathered ponies as she began to pull together the weave for a teleportation spell. She barely heard the muttering that filled the chamber her entire attention on the Shadowfiend and alicorn five hundred and twenty leagues away. She hoped she’d arrive in time, the small prayer to her mother barely forming before the inky nothingness of the null-space beneath reality engulfed her.

Cut off from the world and the events happening in Equestria’s western city, Celestia counted the seconds down. The bone numbing cold seeped into her wings and legs as Celestia basked in true silence. There was no sound except the rush of blood in her ears; no prayers begged for her attention, the sun didn’t play any of her games, nor were there any of the small almost imperceptible noises that filled the palace, just silence.

Then, in a rush of heat and sharp smells, sound and light returned.

Bellow her, ponies, many of them foals, ran about, screams tearing from raw throats. Celestia instantly recognised the mountains and skyline of Vanhoover even as she searched for the Shadowfiend and alicorn hoping the delay in teleporting had not sealed the filly’s fate. Her attention was drawn to a small group of trees like iron filings to a magnet. From within came flashes of magic and the sharp howls of the Shadowfiend. Her wings slowly stroking the air to keep her aloft, Celestia closed her eyes to locate the alicorn.

She felt nothing other than the sun curiously observing.

For half a beat of her ancient heart, she knew only emptiness and sorrow. A memory, buried for almost sixteen centuries, flashed before her eyes. More and more in recent months it had surfaced, plaguing the princess, taunting and tormenting her with old failures. She stood at the mouth of that accursed cave high in the Marenese Mountains of southern Prance. Before her, scattered about the cave, were a dozen bodies, all withered black husks. Beneath the bodies the rocks had been burnt and charred, and Celestia could smell the magic responsible lingering in the air like a clinging musk. At the cave’s heart, in a ring of stone obelisks, Luna sat clutching a small aqua-marine body in her hooves as tears streamed down her face.

Luna looked up, her eyes sunken pits of anguish and despair, and then the memory was gone, replaced by searing rage. Celestia’s aurora like mane vanished, becoming flames hot as the surface of her beloved Sol, boiling away the omnipresent clouds over the city. Celestia gathered her magic causing the air around her to hiss and crackle. There were no fancy spells or tricks, Celestia simply launched her magic, conjuring a lance of energy that she poured centuries of regret and anger into.

In a flash and deep, trembling rumble the trees and ferns vanished, burnt to ash and dust under the weight of the goddess’ might. The pegasi that had rushed to the scene were all blown back, twisting and spiralling through the air while those on the ground unfortunate to be near the source of a goddess’ ire rolled and tumbled through the grass. High above, Sol gave a smug satisfied grin and sent a wave of comforting energy to Celestia. The princess ignored the sun, her eyes searching for any trace or sign of the beast that had stolen the potential from an alicorn. She saw movement, a wave of smoke that crawled across the ground.

Grinding her teeth and recognising Puff from Twilight and Luna’s descriptions, Celestia attacked again, the ground boiling into slag beneath her spell. Wings still gently flapping to keep her aloft, Celestia surveyed the devastation she’d created. Of the shadowfiend and Puff there were no signs. Breath slowing, Celestia felt the old wound in her heart twist. For the moment, her anger was spent with nothing to be directed towards.

Celestia, thank you.

Her head snapped towards the prayer, so weak it could hardly be discerned among those flowing from the frightened city. Closing her eyes she fixed her Awareness on the tired voice. She saw a bed and heard the rumble of wheels, but it was the sight of the silver filly, her head resting on a threadbare pillow and shielded from the slanting light of the sun by a lock of black mane, that both comforted and confused Celestia.

The prayer was too weak to maintain the sight for more than a few seconds. Back-winging to land in the center of the damage she’d caused, Celestia twisted her head around trying to seek out some feeling or sense of the filly, but found nothing. She’d been able to sense Tyr easily. Not being able to find a trace of this new alicorn left her head spinning with questions, the most important being ’why’? Twilight, even as a fostered filly, had been so simple to locate. This alicorn wasn’t fostered, and yet it was like finding a shadow in a pitch black room. Closing her eyes and concentrating Celestia finally found a lingering echo of the alicorn’s presence, like the whisper of shampoo on a pillow. But she couldn’t follow it.

“Well, I know now what you look like and where you were. You can’t get too far,” Celestia said as she again took to the sky.

With an expert flip of her wings she angled towards Fort Manely and the small detachment of Royal Guards that made the fort their home. If they set up the search now, it was possible to find the filly and whoever was with her before they slipped away again.

* * *

“You should be careful, Lord Dragon, the pony goddesses are not to be taken lightly. Oh, no, no, no, they should not.”

Gilda’s sleep encrusted eyes slid open as the thick rolling voice tumbled through her ears. Groaning at the pain lancing through her side, she tried to turn over on the small bed but found herself strapped down. All drowsiness vanished as she spotted the rope lashed around her body, binding her to the bed. For a few moments she struggled against her binds, when a second voice, one like the rumble of thunder and the falling of a mountain, made her heart skip in panic.

She couldn’t understand any of the words spoken by the second voice, if it was indeed a voice and not an avalanche. Taking short ragged breaths, Gilda looked around for something she could use to free herself. She saw nothing but pots and potions of every colour filling the shelves that lined the walls. In the center of the room bubbled a cauldron over a large fire. Carved masks glared down on the griffon from their perches on the walls.

“Where the buck am I?” Gilda snarled as she pulled and tugged.

“I understand, yes, I understand.” The first voice gave a weary sigh.

From his tone and the way the hut shook Gilda guessed that who, or what, ever the voice had been speaking with had left. The rhythmic tap of wood and hooves signaled the voice’s approach. Bound and helpless, Gild snapped her eyes half-shut so she could peer at the beads hanging in the doorframe and see who had captured her without him knowing she was awake.

“I know you are awake, cat-bird,” the voice said as the beads were swept aside by a staff to let a crippled zebra into the hut. “I raised seven daughters and taught five apprentices, I know when someone fakes sleep. You are not very skilled at it, neither.”

“Who are you? Where the buck am I?” Gilda snarled the questions, straining again against her restraints.

“I am the Mighty and Mostly Magnificent Zubu, at your service,” Zubu gave an awkward bow, rising up to lean his staff next to the door before hopping towards Gilda. “And you are in my home on the edge of the Great Ape Jungle. Well, just inside, actually. On the edge, more or less.”

Gilda froze, her blood turning to ice. She and Blinka had heard legends and stories about the jungle and the large white apes that lived beneath its shade. Terrible beasts that hunted anything that intruded on their home and could move through the treetops like ghosts. Griffons that flew too low were said to be grabbed by vines and pulled down to waiting claws and fangs. Even the most hardened and strongest griffons of the aerie had trembled when giving the warnings to the un-exiled griffons.

“Don’t you worry none. Those savage brutes live much further into the jungle.” Zubu chuckled as he approached, using his good hoof to lift a compress from the side of Gilda’s chest.

She craned her head to look and saw a patch of shaved fur and plucked feathers right where her coat merged with her crest. A wave of embarrassment flashed through her as he tutted and slathered on a thick pungent smelling ointment.

“You are healing well. Had me worried for a while as you slipped in and out of the deep sleep. Thought you’d be joining your ancestors more than once. But I am Zubu, and I know my arts well, yes I do. But I am out of Mungus Root, so there will be little I can do for the aches and pains you will surely feel. How do you feel?”

Gilda blinked dumbly at the question. She felt... sore, all over. Her wings, legs, back, even her beak was sore. Taking a hiss of breath, she looked away from the zebra, not willing to admit how terrible she felt. He just chuckled some more as he began to undo the ropes binding her.

“I’m sorry for the ropes, but you would thrash about terribly when you had nightmares during the fever and infection. Fire suggested the bindings.”

“Fire?”

“Fire!” Zubu gestured to the flames kissing the cauldron, a wide manic grin on his old wrinkled face.

“Uh huh,” Gilda muttered as the last rope was loosened. Rolling off the bed, Gilda had to fight off a wave of exhaustion and nausea that assaulted her, making the hut spin. “Listen, thanks, I guess, for helping me, but I need to find my cousin and Talona.”

“Talona? The daughter of Wisdom and Retribution? She is in the aerie.” Zubu tossed the rope into a corner, next to a pile of mushrooms and old rags. “As for your cousin, she was young griffon? Broken wing, yes?”

Gilda nodded slowly, mostly because her head spun and her stomach clenched with the slightest movement.

“She is dead then.”

The words were said with simple finality. No preamble, nothing to soften their blow, just the hard truth. Gilda’s beak fell open and she slumped on the cot.

“Dead? So... they killed her? Because of a broken wing?”

“That is the way of the cat-birds. To ‘return to the Earth’ those that cannot contribute. In doing so they feed the grass, as the grass feeds the gazelle, and the gazelle feeds the cat-bird. A soldier who cannot fly, what good is she?”

“She could have been helped! Or had done something not flying related if it was impossible to fix her wing!” Gilda stood in a rush of anger, and almost as quickly toppled over, her head barely missing the cauldron and fire.

“You are both exiles-in-return, yes?” Gilda nodded as she was helped back onto the cot. “Then you are not craft-birds or nobility. Soldiers are all you are seen as having a use for, nothing more. Not as shamans, baker, or butcher. Not even as manual laborer. But to fight for the aerie and hunt for the aerie. That is cat-bird way.” Zubu clicked his tongue and made a tut-tut. “It is a waste.”

Moving around to the other side of the hut, Zubu began to root and shift through shelves. As he did Gilda sat staring off into space. She couldn’t believe that Blinka was gone, left to rot beneath a tree. Since losing Rainbow Dash’s friendship, Blinka had been the only other soul Gilda really knew or interacted with. There were only three griffon families in all of Equestria, and none of the other exiles had liked Gilda any more than the ponies of Ponyville.

It had been Blinka who consoled Gilda when she’d flown back to the roost. It had been Blinka that had pulled Gilda out of the funk and depression that losing Rainbow Dash had caused. It had even been Blinka who suggested they travel a bit, visit the other exile colonies. It had been Gilda, though, who wanted to go to the aeries when they heard word of their exile being renounced if they joined the army.

Now, the one remaining friend she had in the world was gone, stolen from her by the general of Southstone when all she and her cousin had wanted was to find a new home. A low growl rumbled in Gilda’s chest as she looked at her talons.

They had taken Blinka from her, left her for dead, and they had the alicorn foal. She had nothing, was nothing. She could hardly stand on her own four legs.

“I be knowing that look, yes, I do,” Zubu said from where he’d been watching. “You’re thinking of doing something very stupid, Mm Hm.”

“They took Blinka from me,” Gilda whispered, tensing her talons. “I’m just going to repay them.”

“Revenge, it is not the way.” Zubu shook his head.

“Yeah, well I’m not some lame old cripple,” Gilda snarled. “Ponies, Zebras, you’re all the same. Run away rather than face your problems head on.”

Zubu’s face grew dark and stormy, his good eye turning into a dangerous black pearl. In a flash he crossed the hut, his face so close to Gilda’s she couldn’t avoid the stench of tobacco and rotten teeth on his breath. His mangled leg shot up, jabbing a short stick underneath Gilda’s beak.

“I will forgive that comment because you are ignorant, little cat-bird.”

Sneering at the supposed threat, Gilda made to brush the stick aside. Quick as a cobra, Zubu grabbed her wrist and twisted it back, pain flaring through the limb.

“Ow, hey!” the Gilda yelped as she found herself unable to move.

“Youngsters, you are all the same, especially you cat-birds. So quick to lash out and think the world owes you something. Never stopping to think or wonder if tragedy could have been avoided. If a father needed to bury his children.” Zubu released her, huffing as he turned away, his tail slapping her across the face.

Sitting in stunned silence, Gilda massaged her tender wrist.

“You need to rest. There will be no taking vengeance tonight or for the next many nights. Rest now. We’ll talk more in the morning.” Zubu grabbed his staff from beside the door and stepped out into the jungle.

Left alone, Gilda rested her head back on the lumpy pillow, nursing the pain in her body and heart. Tears soaked her pillow long before she fell back to sleep, only one thought in her mind; finding the general and making her suffer the same pain Gilda felt.