Chapter One

Mist swirled in the night. Through the towering trees, gnarled and foreboding, the cool vapor wound and wended; through the ferns and bracken of the underbrush it rolled like a silent tide. The sky was shrouded from view by the dense, leafy canopy, deepening the already pitch black shadows of the Everfree Forest. Disembodied eyes peered out from the dark crevices, glinting with the light of a moon that could not be seen. Crackles and cackles, shivers and slithers, sniffles and piffles—they were a hushed discord, filling the heady atmosphere with frightful noise that could barely be heard.

Misty Moonrise inhaled deeply to steady her nerves. This is a dream, the unicorn reminded herself silently. Nothing in this Everfree Forest could harm her. None of it was real. But just whose dream was this?

Cautiously, Misty pressed onward, her pale grey coat melding seamlessly with the silvery currents. Her mane and tail—white, unkempt, and nearly trailing the ground—soon grew damp with a layer of dew. She jumped when a finger of briar, twisted and skeletal, brushed against her flank. A streak of grime from the branch obscured her cutie mark like a sinister ray of shadow. Misty quickly rubbed away the grime, revealing the full moon partially veiled by a pair of clouds which rested, in a night sky of dark blue, on her flank. She swept her sapphire gaze anxiously around the shadowy wood as she continued walking. Something did not feel right.

Suddenly, the ground vanished from beneath her hooves. Misty plunged straight down with a startled cry. She landed heavily on a narrow ridge, but lost her grip and slid over the side. She tumbled, skidded, and stumbled down a sheer, rocky slope that never seemed to end. Eventually, however, she toppled onto solid ground again, though she was bruised and battered and the breath had been knocked out of her. With a soft groan, Misty pushed herself to all fours and looked up at the means of her descent.

She was at the bottom of a deep ravine. The frothing mist spilled over the earthen walls like a waterfall. The tops of the trees peeked out over the lip of the cliffs on both sides, but only spindly vines and weeds clung to the rocks below. Without the thick canopy, the velvet dome of night was clearly visible. Stars glittered coldly in the inky void, and the thinnest sliver of a waning moon kept quiet vigil. Now that she was out of the mist, Misty could see a long stairwell that was carved into the cliff. A second stair clawed up the opposite side of the ravine.

Then Misty Moonrise noticed a break in the rock ahead of her—the yawning mouth of a cave. She would have overlooked it completely in the pervading darkness, but from within the cave a sickly green light shone. Faint wisps of shadows flitted along the cave wall, interrupting the eerie light. Indiscernible whispers and voices issued from within.

Swallowing her rising fear, Misty Moonrise entered the cavern. As earth gave way to stone, each hoof-fall became a dozen bouncing echoes. The cavern walls glistened with moisture and were lined with columns of stalactites and stalagmites, water dripping from tip to tip.

“At last…”

Misty froze. She recognized that warped, unsynchronized voice. Dread crawled up her spine.

Without thinking, Misty Moonrise shot into a reckless gallop. Surely she was mistaken—this dream could not possibly belong to that creature… could it?

The emerald light which filled the cave suddenly brightened, pulsing like a heartbeat. Blinded, Misty squeezed her eyes shut and skidded to a stop. A triumphant laugh, cold and cruel, resounded like the knell of a hundred funereal bells. The ground beneath Misty’s hooves seemed to quake in terror.

“My subjects will hunger no more…”

Shading her eyes with a raised foreleg, Misty squinted into the unnatural brilliance.

A great tree of glistening crystal filled the cavern, its icy violet and blue facets tinged green by the pulsing light. Fringes of crystal were draped from its boughs like hanging moss, twinkling like stars and tinkling like wind chimes. Upon its trunk were carved a star cradled by a crescent moon and, above it, a blazing sun. In the center of the bole from which its branches sprouted was a six-point magenta star, which seemed to flicker with an inner rainbow. On the tips of the surrounding branches hung five other gems, each one unique in shade and shape: a soft pink butterfly, a sky blue balloon, a ruby lightning bolt, a deep amethyst diamond, and a warm orange apple.

The Tree of Harmony.

A figure stood before the Tree, tall and slender and black, with a twisted horn and translucent wings. It was from her horn that the green light radiated. In the lime glow of her magic, her normally white fangs were painted emerald and the four blue opals which decorated her obsidian crown refracted and reflected her aura until they were like four drops from the deepest depths of the ocean. Her lank, teal mane and tail swirled about her face and hole-riddled legs. Gradient blue-green, chitinous plating wrapped around her middle like a cocoon. Her tattered, insectoid wings fluttered excitedly, the sound like the shuttering of a fly. Even in the light of her magic, however, her dark green eyes gleamed with their own inner illumination, the elongated pupils nearly blotting out the irises.

Queen Chrysalis.

She was the ultimate master of disguise, for that was the way of changelings—to take the form of loved ones and feed off others’ love for them. Queen Chrysalis had done it before, impersonating the beloved Princess Cadance on her wedding day, feeding on the groom’s love for the bride. But Shining Armor had been lucky that day. If his sister, now Princess Twilight Sparkle, had not seen through Queen Chrysalis’s ruse and found the real Princess Cadance, changelings may yet rule Equestria.

Misty shivered as a cold wind began to swirl into the cavern from outside. If this is Queen Chrysalis’s dream, why is she dreaming about the Tree of Harmony? she wondered.

The Queen of the Changelings sent tendrils of magic toward the Tree and its Elements. She pried the Element of Magic from its place, dampening the spark inside and infusing it instead with shadow. Then she began to do the same to the other Elements, one by one, until all six had lost their gleam and swam with darkness.

“Without their precious harmony,” rasped Chrysalis gleefully, “Equestria will be mine for the taking!” She laughed, low and callous and wicked, as she returned the tainted Elements to the Tree. Wherever they touched, the Tree turned ugly and lifeless. Veins of black and red clawed up and down its length, spider-webbing the graven sun and moon with cracks that bled acrid smoke.

Changelings suddenly poured into the cavern, buzzing and spitting and rasping as they swarmed around their queen. Like a torrential tornado they whirled, blocking all but blurred glimpses of the dying Tree. Chrysalis reveled in the chaos, cackling madly. Her eyes became solid orbs of black light, streaming poisonous purple fumes like wild tendrils of shadowy flame.

“MINE, ALL MINE!”