Myths and Birthrights: Anthologiae

Chapters

Arengea's Game
Muses' Warming Eve
The Apple and the Fox
The Apple and the Fox: Part 2
The First Sparkle (Dark, Gore)
Sol's Rune, Part One
Sol's Rune, Part Two
Four Candles
The Moon on the Sword: Act One (Dark, Gore)
The Moon on the Sword: Act Two (Dark, Gore)
The Moon on the Sword: Act Three (Dark, Gore)
Where the Sea Meets the Storm
Queen to Queen
Justice
Ambrosia
Let There Be Night
The North Wind's Howl
Muses of Hearts
The Pacification of Crystal Valley
Daughter of the Night
The Book of Selene: Tamashi

Arengea's Game

Arengea’s Game
By Tundara

Everything was going terribad, an inky shadow of darkness covering the land like a moldy blanket. The Princess was missing. The Elements lost among the ruins of Murdoom’Gul. And the forces of the Necromancer had the fair Queendom surrounded. If a heroine didn’t rise up soon, then all would be lost. If—

“I’m sorry, but, ‘Murdoom’Gul’? ‘Inky shadow of darkness’? That’s all… kind of cliche, isn’t it?” Rarity tilted her head, a slight frown playing in her knitted brow.

“Huh?” Arengea looked up from her notes, a stack of paper covered in neat, minute writing, with notations, spread sheets, and quick-guides in the margins. A little, scrawny foal, Arengea wore her two toned mane of amethyst and silver cut short and scruffy, parted by her little white horn.

A bandage covered one of her wings from an accident the previous day, which had lead to her present ‘punishment’ of having to stay inside while her sisters got to roam and play in the gardens. At least it meant she could try out her latest game with some of her family.

Across the table from her sat Rarity, Celestia, Luna, and Pinkie Pie. Each had a sheet of paper in front of them, a plate of cupcakes sitting in the middle.

“I rather liked it,” Celestia countered, glancing down on the mare at her side.

“Well, you would. I’ve seen the books you read.” Rarity gave a little sniff of feigned disgust, not mentioning she’d been the one to introduce Celestia to the Romance genre.

“Moooom! You promised to give the game a chance!” Arengea pouted, lifting herself up to peer over the edge of her Game Master’s Screen, resplendent with a painting of stylised wizards, warriors, and rogues battling a fire-breathing dragon on its face.

“I’m sorry, dear, it’s just—”

Rarity was interrupted by Celestia clearing her throat, and giving Rarity a pointed look.

“Yes, sorry. I will try.” Putting on a conciliatory expression, Rarity asked for Arengea to continue.

“Why don’t you introduce your characters, since the intro is deader than one of Polyhymnia’s recitals,” grumbled the filly as she lowered her head back down behind her screen.

“No need to be snippy, dear. Your sister tries her hardest, just like you.” Rarity waited for her daughter to give a half-hearted ‘I’m sorry’ before continuing. “Now, I am... Blackmoon Battleaxe the Drunk?” Rarity gave the sheet of paper in front of her a quizzical look.

“Oh, that’s my character,” Pinkie chirped from her place on the other side of Rarity. “This must be yours, Rares.”

Glancing at the sheet she took from Pinkie, Rarity gave a relieved sigh. “Yes, this is better. I am the fair knight, Lady Silvershield of Canterwall.”

“Oh, my turn!” Luna eagerly clapped her hooves. “I am Indominus Flynn, a thin faced unicorn from the prefecture of Twinkleshire. Some dare call me a rogue or a scoundrel, and this is truth, but only in part. As part of a failed rebellion against the cruel lady of my homelands, I’ve been forced into self-imposed exile, and have taken to adventuring while I also search for a way to return and liberate my home.”

“See,” Arengea’s little horn bobbed up and down on the far side of the screen, “Aunty Luna is playing along.”

Celestia gave her daughter an admonishing cough and was about to introduce her character when, bouncing off the walls in a tremendous roar, came, “I am Thunderfury the Bold, once apprentice to the good lord Hurricane, I have set out to find my own path with only my trusty war-hammer, armour, and desire for glory!” Zeus stood in the doorway, a bag of cheetos, case of Valley Dew, and a small bag of custom, engraved dice floating at his side.

Rarity gave Zeus a scathing glare, one that had made mountains tremble and gods wilt. Zeus merely gave an oblivious smile as he trotted into the room.

“Uncle Zeus, your back!” Arengea clapped her hooves. “Great, now the game can really begin! Roll for initiative!”

Author's Note

A very slightly modified reposting of the first of my little stories featuring the Muses.

Muses' Warming Eve

Muses' Warming Eve
By Tundara

Deep within the sprawling Canterlot Castle, near the top of the tallest tower, there is a room dreaded by all servants. A room filled with the greatest terrors to roam Equestria. Horror and misery followed in their wake, heralded only by giggles and the pounding of nine sets of hooves. The room did its best to contain the chaos, aided by the wardens, but the menaces were crafty and escape was common.

This cold, winter night was no different within the Royal Nursery.

Bouncing on their beds the Muses sang Hearth’s Warming carols, for this was Hearth’s Warming Eve, and their little heads will filled with the promise of presents, delicious foods, and sweets on the marrow. They laughed and sang, with little Aoide leading, their voices reaching the castle courtyard far below. Her small, powder white wings buzzed as she bounded up, up, and then came down to skip across the plush carpet.

“Presents, presents, lots and lots and lots of presents!” Aoide sang, the chorus joined by her sisters.

“Oh, could you please be quiet?” growled a tenth filly, Princess Skyla of the Crystal City, her pink hooves holding her pillows over her head. “Some of us want to sleep.”

She was not usually part of the Muses circle, her family living much farther to the north. But, Hearth’s Warming was a time for herds to gather, and so the sprawling House Invictus had come together within Canterlot.

“We can’t,” Calliope, the fourth of the sisters, gave a dramatic swoon, back of hoof pressed to her forehead. “Just think! Sandy Hooves is leaving his lair at the very tippy-top of the disc right now to bring presents to all the good fillies and colts of Ioka. How can you not be excited, Skyla?”

“Oh, I don’t know, because there isn’t a Sandy Hooves?” Skyla made an exaggerated snort as the Muses let out a collective gasp, their dancing and joy coming to a squealing halt.

Skyla regretted her words at once. Tears began build, and if it had been possible they’d have started trickling down the Muses faces.

The first bawls rang out like the resounding bangs of bells. Skyla did her best to take back her words. Of course there is a Sandy Hooves! Presents! So many presents! With bows and ribbons galore! And think of the tarts, cakes, and sweets!

But to no avail.

Distinct clicks reached Skyla from the stairs, and she pressed her ears back and gulped. They stopped in the same moment the Muses ceased their bawling, little faces craned around to peer at the door as it groaned open.

Rarity and Celestia stood in the door, and they did not look pleased.

“Mama!” The Muses cried rushing around the pair. “Skyla is being mean again. She says there is no Sandy Hooves.”

“Oh, is that all?” Rarity blinked a couple times a warm smile growing on her muzzle. “I’m certain she didn’t mean it, did you, dear?”

Skyla sat up on her bed as if a ruler had been cracked across her hoof. “No! Of course not! I was just being cranky because of the noise. I’m sorry.”

She gave an appropriately chastised expression; ears hanging, eyes to the floor, and tail limp.

“See?” Rarity gathered the Muses and lead them to their beds. She and Celestia tucked each in and kissed them on their foreheads. “You know I’ve been up at the pole these past few weeks helping him and the elves make sure everything would be just perfect for Hearth’s Warming.”

“What’s he like, mama?” Clio, youngest of the Muses, asked Celestia as she received her kiss.

Putting on her thoughtful face, Celestia made a low hum.

“Well, you all know the stories. How his laugh is filled with the most wonderful warmth and makes him shake like jelly. There is a sparkle in his eye for every good little filly or colt. If you get close he smells of peppermint.”

“Is he an alicorn, like us?”

“Of course.”

“Can we meet him?”

Celestia gave a little laugh. “Maybe someday, but he is very shy.”

Satisfied Clio sunk into her pillows and her eyes fluttered shut.

“Merry Hearth’s Warming, girls,” Rarity and Celestia said before they snuffed the candles and closed the door.

No sooner had the soft echo of their hooves dissipated when Polyhymnia went, “Pst, Melete.”

Her sister rolled over and grumbled.

“Melete.”

A huff.

“Melete!”

“What?” Melete rolled over to glare at her little sister. “It’s lights out, that means it’s sleeping time.”

“I can’t sleep, though,” Polyhymnia protested, covers kicked up and hooves splayed out. “I keep thinking of what presents he’s bringing. Will I get that new harp? Or maybe a violin! Oh, oh, oh! A piano!”

“Don’t you already have all of those?” Melete lifted up a brow.

“Well, yes, but—”

“You’re going to get us in trouble you two,” hissed Calliope. “Besides, Sandy Hooves will only come once we’re all asl—”

At that precise moment a bang echoed from the roof to the jingle of bells. The eight fillies eyes all widened, a collective gasp filling their throats and held back. A tromp-tromp-tromp of hooves on the roof lead to the fireplace. Within the hearth the embers grew dimmer, and then puffed outward in a quiet explosion of glittering rainbow dust as something passed down the chimney on its way to the game room at the tower’s base.

Nothing needed to be said as the eight fillies flung themselves from their beds and down the stairs, slowing only when they reached the landing before the bottom floor. From there they could see the floor around the hearth covered in rainbow dust. Large hoofprints lead through the dust towards the Hearth’s Warming Tree.

Presents from relatives and friends—the fillies had many; from House Sparkle, to the Empress of Zebrica, with kings, queens, archons, and the even the tyrants of Tartarus—had already been stacked around the tree so that it seemed like it was buried in a snowdrift of brightly coloured paper and ribbons. To this short hill more were being added, pulled from a bright red bag trimmed in white by a large stallion in a matching coat. Magic of soft tinsel green coated his horn while smaller gifts darted into the stocking placed on the mantle and the larger gifts were stacked neat into an empty corner beside the tree.

Gifts delivered, Sandy Hooves tossed the bag over his back between snowy white wings. From the plate placed on a small table he took a couple cookies and a sip of brandy before making his way to the chimney.

“Ho, ho, ho, girls, you should be in bed,” he said without looking back, and then he vanished up the chimney in a swirl of magic.

The girls looked to each other, and then squealed with delight.

Over in their room, Rarity shook her head before leaning her chin against Celestia’s shoulder.

“We’re going to have to thank him this time, love,” Rarity giggled. “Zeus has a way with foals.”

Celestia raised a brow. “I need do no such thing. He’s practically a foal himself.” She clicked her tongue then sighed as Rarity gave her a long, humourless glare. “Fine. Just this once, and only for the fillies. He really doesn’t need any more encouragement. He’s going to be insufferable enough as it is.”

Leaning up to give Celestia a little kiss on the cheek, Rarity purred, “That’s all I ask. Now, you better ready yourself…” Rarity warned, the approaching stampede of hooves and cries of, ‘He came!’ already piercing their door.

There was barely time for them to trade, “Merry Hearth’s Warming, love,” before the doors were flung open and their little joys came pouring through.

Author's Note

Another slightly modified former vignette of the Muses. Previously their upset guest was Soir and there were only 7 muses. Thalia and Clio have since been added, and Soir swapped over to Skyla.

The Apple and the Fox

The Apple and the Fox
By Tundara

Ponyville was filled with the din of hammers and chisels on stone. High above, the brilliant summer sun shone down on a field of workers at the town’s southern edge. Bright yellow hard hats glinted as the small army of ponies worked. Cranes hoisted massive blocks of midnight marble. Each block weighed over a ton, the chains and straps lifting the stone groaning with the effort to shift them to their final resting place.

Earlier in the morning, the workers had thought they heard drums echoing out of the Everfree Forest, carried by a hot, humid wind. The wind had shifted, and the sounds of drums had faded, leaving the workers to shrug their shoulders and return to building the southern face of Notre-Dame des Etoiles. Only a year into the project and the the future cathedral was showing its potential.

Built atop the site of Ponyville’s old library, the cathedral and surrounding buildings would become the centre for the Sisterhood of the Twilight Princess. The ancient tree that had housed the library had been moved, shifted a few hundred yards to its new home where it would become a reliquary to house the Friendship Scrolls and other artifacts of the princess.

The cathedral itself was little more than a few stubby walls and pillars. When completed it would dominate the surrounding town, being several times the size of the next largest building.

A shout rose up from the edge of the construction zone.

Several workers had to leap up and out of the way as a form, as dark as the stones it jumped across, sped past. White, curved fangs shone like lamps from a midnight blue muzzle beneath yellow, glowing eyes. Paws whispered across the dry, bare earth, leaving ghostly, wet prints behind while three tails whipped along in the form’s wake.

“Hey, Anchor Bolt, did that look like a fox made out of water?” one worker asked another after the form surged past.

“Eeyup,” drawled the other earth-pony, pushing up his hard-hat.

“Should we, um, do anything about it?”

The second worker gave the first a level glance, and then shook his head. “Nope. You’ll get used to this kind of thing in Ponyville,” Anchor Bolt said, returning his attention to the marble he needed to shape in front of him.

The workers barely had time to lift their hammers before a young mare, barely more than a filly, burst through the site. Her golden yellow coat was covered in black stripes that seemed to shift and undulate as she ran, her head held low and amber eyes fixated on the three-tailed fox. Gold hoop rings bounced along with her ears, matched by two bands around her neck. Cinched tight around her waist were saddlebags, their contents shifting and clinking with every step. A long pink mane billowed behind her, rising up as she sprung off a ramp, landed atop a suspended block, and flipped off the other side, gaining several strides on the cat in the process.

“That was Apple Bloom, wasn't it?” the first worker asked, slack jawed at the acrobatic maneuvers.

“Just get back to work, Lintel.”

Her chest heaving, Apple Bloom didn’t spare a glance to the workers having to jump out of her path. “Get back here, you darn kitsune!” She yelled after the fox.

Leaping up on top of a scaffolding, the fox glanced back at the teen-aged pony, its tails snapping back and forth with anger. Hissing, she pointed her tails over her back at Apple Bloom. Ghostly blue flames ignited on the tip of each tail, an evil grin taking to the fox’s muzzle.

“Oh, Celestia,” Apple Bloom barely had time to grumble before the flames were launched at her.

Jumping into a sideways roll, Apple Bloom landed on one hoof, pivoted, and bounced back into the air while ghost-fire burst down on the spots she’d occupied moments before. Tucking her legs to her barrel, Apple Bloom felt a third and fourth ball of fire hiss past her sides, lightly kissing her blank flanks. Landing behind a finished marble block, Apple Bloom took a moment to gather her breath before charging around her cover.

“She had to be a kitsune,” Apple Bloom mumbled as the chase resumed, the fox leaping from the scaffolding to a partially completed wall.

Pony below and fox above, the pair moved out of the construction area and into the town proper. Once more, ponies were having to scramble out of the way, many hurling insults at the racing pair. Reaching Carousel Boutique, the shop’s windows dark and boarded over, as they had been for the past year, the fox slowed, glancing over its shoulder.

“Awww, little pony getting tired?” the fox chortled, her voice high and piercing, as if it were talons scraping along a chalkboard.

“I ain’t even broken a sweat yet,” Apple Bloom lied as she slowed to a trot.

She narrowed her eyes, wondering what trick the fox was about to play next. Hopping onto its back paws, the fox paced back and forth in front of the shop door. Holding its forepaws out wide, toes wiggling in a ‘come get me’, she gave a sharp laugh.

“You’re about to faint, little pony.” The fox bounced from paw to paw almost like it was dancing. “Little pony will never be proper shaman. You should have summoned a stupid cat spirit or racoon. Your master must be so disappointed in little pony. You not even have cutie mark, ha-ha-ha!”

“Take that back!” Apple Bloom snorted and stamped a hoof.

“Make me, if you can!” the fox taunted as it turned and ran up the Boutique’s side.

Once more the chase was on, Apple Bloom darting and weaving through the streets as the fox moved from rooftop to rooftop.

“Stupid spirit, get down here!” Apple Bloom yelled up.

“I rather prefer it up here,” was the reply.

“Fine, then I’ll come to you,” Apple Bloom said, screeching to a halt and flipping open her saddlebags.

From within their once ordered depths she pulled a small, red vial. Popping the cork out with her teeth, she upended the vial and poured its bitter contents down her throat. A cooling wave, not unlike peppermint, burst from Apple Bloom’s stomach and down to the tips of her hooves. Her legs began to jitter, a slender smile working it’s way onto her face as she gauged the distances and angle between her and the rooftop. With a yell, Apple Bloom leapt high into the sky.

“I hate shamans,” the fox said in a dry voice as Apple Bloom fell with the sun at her back, landing only a few strides from the no longer grinning spirit.

Staying only a single step ahead of the determined pony, the spirit darted from roof to roof. From the streets and buildings came startled cries of ponies as the pair crisscrossed town. Seeing it could not outpace the pony, the kitsune again began to flick ghost flame towards Apple Bloom. Jumping into the sky, Apple Bloom pulled a trio of round, black vials from her saddlebags.

“Catch!” Apple Bloom called, tossing the vials with all her might.

As an earth pony, and having taken several different potions over the course of the day, her throw proved to be strong and true. It still wasn’t enough. Yowling, the fox skidded to a stop, her tails stretching out to catch two of the vials and send them spinning off into the distance. The third was struck by ghost-fire, the pottery bursting and contents burning into a thick, greasy cloud. Cursing the spirit, Apple Bloom’s eyes darted and scanned the cloud. A puff on the far side indicated the fox was on the move again.

Onward they went, heading towards the market district.

The farther they moved from the forest, the more they ran and jumped, the more Apple Bloom’s thoughts slipped into a state of relaxed contemplation. Her body moved on its own, reflexes honed under Zecora’s watchful eye guiding Apple Bloom while the events of the morning replayed themselves. Perhaps there was a clue on how to catch the fox hidden within.

24 hours earlier...

“Come on, Zecora, can’t you tell me now what the big surprise is? Please?” Apple Bloom practically vibrated as she trotted along beside her master.

“You must be patient, my apprentice. This walk is far from endless,” Zecora said, brushing aside a fern to reveal one of the numerous glades throughout the Everfree.

This glade was strewn with weathered, round rocks atop a bed of pebbles. The rocks varied in size, the smallest being about as big as Apple Bloom’s head, the largest as tall as Mac. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or pattern to their placement. It was almost as if a giant had been playing marbles. At the centre of the glade sat the largest stone yet. It had been cut in half, creating a table.

Atop the table, or perhaps altar, Apple Bloom corrected, sat several unlit candles, a couple bowls, and an assortment of vials and jars filled with alchemical reagents.

“Zecora, what’s going on?” Apple Bloom asked as she propped herself up to look over the ingredients. She saw wormwood, sandsage, hearts desire, toad jelly, and wisp ash. Those were just the ones she recognised. “We learning a new potion?”

“In a way, though not as you might expect. What we will make will help you reflect.” Sitting next to the altar, Zecora motioned for Apple Bloom to face her. “You have studied long and hard, and there is little left for me to teach. Soon, will come the time where on your own you must reach. Yet there is one trial yet to pass, before you can claim to be a shamaness.”

“The Spirit Chase,” Apple Bloom gulped, looking now at the gathered ingredients with fear rather than wonder.

Zecora nodded solemnly.

“Before the rite begins, there is one you must meet. To succeed without her advice would be an impossible feat.”

From around the altar stepped what Apple Bloom first took to be a fox. Her fur was a deep, burnished red that shone with gold under the afternoon sun. Large, blue eyes identical to Zecora’s watched Apple Bloom with a mixture of curiosity and light humour, while the corner of her muzzle was pulled up into a slight grin. There wasn’t any sound as she moved, the small stones littering the ground undisturbed and the few blades of yellow grass unbent by her passage.

Sitting down next to Zecora, seven tails rose up, creating a fan behind the fox’s head. Each tail was a different colour with a white tip, forming a partial rainbow. On each tail was a glyph. Apple Bloom recognised the glyphs for ‘speed’, ‘fire’, and ‘cunning’. The fox spread her seven tails and thumped them seven times on the ground as she returned Apple Bloom’s stare.

“Greetings, Bloom of the Apples,” the fox said, her voice light and airy, with a playful resonance.

“Hello.” Apple Bloom waved slowly, feeling a little blush creep onto her cheeks as she did so. “Mac always said I should tell new ponies, or foxes I suppose, my name… But you already know it. But I don’t know yours…”

“My kind have many names. To the buffalo we are Inola. The Halla refer to us as Refr. Those of Neighpon call me a Kitsune. The Griffons and Zebra name us Vulpe. As for me, I am simply Sefra.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Sefra,” Apple Bloom gave an innocent smile as she offered a hoof in greeting.

Taking the hoof in her paw, Sefra turned to Zecora, saying, “I like this one, Zecora. She has a good heart. But is she strong enough for this test?”

“Apple Bloom is quick of wit and determined to prevail. I have no fear that she will fail.”

Sefra gave her chin a slight incline, as if thinking.

“She is still young, my friend. Never in my many years have I heard of a pony, let alone one so small, attempting the Spirit Chase.”

“Hey! I ain’t small! I’m almost mare-grown!” Apple Bloom snorted, her muzzle crinkling at the perceived insult.

“Yet you have not found your ‘cutie’ mark,” Sefra pointed out, jabbing a stubby claw at Apple Bloom’s bare flank.

Her face turning a red so bright it could light a moonless night, Apple Bloom growled and advanced on the spirit. “Just because I ain’t got my mark yet don’t mean I can’t do this!”

“My mistake,” Sefra snickered behind a paw, her tails dancing mirthfully back and forth.

“That is quite enough, both of you. There is still much for us to do.” Zecora gave Sefra a slight glare, before turning her attention back to Apple Bloom. “Magic can come from within and without. In the strength of spirits, there is no doubt. Lure one to our plane you must, then catch, bind, and earn it’s trust. One night you have to prepare for this trial. To catch a spirit requires great guile.”

“Prepare?” Apple Bloom looked between Zecora and the altar. No, table, she corrected. It was definitely just a table.

“You have this night, to make as many potions as you might.” Zecora waved a hoof towards the table’s contents. “In the morning I will return to see your trial start. But for now, I will depart.”

“Wait, ain’t you going to tell me what I should make?” Apple Bloom called after Zecora, the shaman not responding as she disappeared back into the heart of the forest.

“You should get started,” Sefra said, jumping up onto one of the nearby stones, where she proceeded to lay her head down on folded paws. “You have until the dawn to create everything you’ll need.”

“But I don’t know what that is!” Apple Bloom protested, hooves waving wildly.

“You don’t? This will be a rather short chase then,” the spirit smirked, her eyes glowing slits in the growing dusk. “Zecora has been teaching you for… three years now? A short apprenticeship, true. Maybe you aren’t ready for this. But she seems convinced…” Sefra shrugged, fully closing her eyes.

Grinding her teeth in frustration, both at the kitsune and at the very vague instructions, Apple Bloom took stock of her, well, stock of ingredients. In addition to the vials and bowls, there were a few pots, and a small pile of wood and kindling.

“So… I’m going to be chasing a spirit…” Apple Bloom talked to herself as she began to sort out the ingredients. “I’ll need to be able to catch it… So…”

From her spot, Sefra watched the pony work from one eye, the other keeping watch on the woods. Though the Everfree was far calmer than it had been in a thousand years, the forest was far from safe, and they were far from civilization. True, most of the dangers in this part of the forest knew of Apple Bloom, and knew to avoid her lest they draw Zecora’s ire.

All through the night Apple Bloom worked, creating potion after potion. She was a light, yellow blur, mixing, grinding, pouring, and chanting. On one side, Apple Bloom stacked her creations, while the other slowly emptied of supplies.

Conversation between the pair was light. Every now and then Apple Bloom would ask about the coming trial, or about Sefra herself. The spirit shared little of her history, except that she’d been bound to only two other shamans before Zecora. On the trial, Sefra was far more talkative.

“Do I get to choose?” asked Apple Bloom as dawn approached.

Sefra paused in her stargazing. She missed how the stars used to dance. Arrakis still danced, but she was often alone now.

“No,” Sefra finally answered, rolling onto her back, “and yes. You will call, and a kitsune will answer. Which kitsune, however?” Sefra shrugged.

Looking up from the pot she was stirring, Apple Bloom frowned at the answer.

“When I catch her, what do I do?”

Grinning wide, Sefra replied, “If you catch, you will know what to do. If you can’t catch her, then you aren’t a Shaman, and shouldn’t know the answer.”

“Well, that’s helpful,” Apple Bloom grumbled, pouring the contents of the pot into a vial. “Tell me about the kitsune. Zecora never told me about your kind.”

“What is there to say? Other than we are fast and cunning,” Sefra gave a low, growling laugh, flipping back onto her belly. “The older we become, the more tails we grow. And each of our tails grants us a different power. The wise can read the glyphs. To catch a kitsune requires—”

“I see you two are well. That makes my heart swell,” came Zecora’s voice out of the early morning gloom.

Sefra jumped several hoof lengths into the air with a yelp, landing on her paws with her fur outstretched. She reminded Apple Bloom of the time Sweetie had accidentally shocked Opal.

“Zecora, don’t sneak up on us like that!” the fox pouted, grabbing her tails to smooth her fur.

“I am sorry old friend, but I could not resist. Giving you a fright was a chance that could not be missed,” Zecora laughed, giving the spirit an apologetic smile as she stepped up to the table. From a set of saddlebags, she withdrew a mahogany box, placing it on the table next to Apple Bloom’s pile of potions. Tapping the box with a hoof, Zecora said, “I see you have made much progress this night. That you have done so well fills me with delight. Before the ritual, I have gifts to give. It is my hope you will carry them for as long as you live.”

Opening the box, Zecora turned it to face Apple Bloom. Peaking inside, Apple Bloom only just managed to hold back a joyous whoop. Staring up at her were a set of earrings and two bangles. Removing her bow to help the bangles slide down her neck, Apple Bloom beamed up at Zecora. Her chest felt like it was going to burst, or a song was about to flow through her.

It took all her will not to jitter as Zecora pierced her ears. A small part of her squirmed thinking what Applejack would say when she got home. The squirming became a short yelp as the thin needle pierced her skin. An application of an ointment to prevent infection, and the earrings were added.

Finally, Apple Bloom’s creations were put into a set of small saddlebags, and the bags fitted around her waist.

Taking a step back, Zecora gave Apple Bloom a proud, almost motherly smile. It was a smile Apple Bloom returned with equal fervor. Over the years, Zecora had become like a mother, teaching Apple Bloom as much about morality as magic and alchemy. Applejack and Mac had helped, had been there for her, but at the end of the day, they were her siblings, not parents. There was always an off feelings whenever one had tried to act like her mom or dad. It left Apple Bloom’s mane itching.

But with Zecora, it had always felt right, though Apple Bloom had never really thought much about it before.

As the sun rose, and Zecora wiped a proud tear from her eye, Apple Bloom understood at last how much she loved and respected the zebra.

“Now, it is time for the ritual to truly begin. To claim the mantle of ‘shaman’, should you win,” Zecora said, forcing her face to return to a neutral expression.

Again, Zecora retrieved an item from her saddlebags. She placed a pot of black paint in front of her; the heavy odor of saffron and lacquer drifting across Apple Bloom’s nose. Dipping a hoof into the pot, Zecora indicated that Apple Bloom should stand. From her perch, Sefra began to sing, her voice sharp and clear.

Come, come and see,

A Shaman is anointed today.

With eyes true and clear,

To see Ioka as she is meant to be.

Around Apple Bloom’s eyes Zecora applied the paint, creating a mask that swooped from the corners, curling beneath her ears. A piercing chill sunk deep into Apple Bloom’s face wherever the paint was applied. Blinking back a couple tears, the glade became bathed in a soft, blue light that danced and hung like sheets in the air.

Come, come and speak,

A Shaman is reborn today.

With tongue fast and true,

To share Ioka’s hidden mystique.

Paint swirled around Apple Bloom’s jaw and over her lips. Her teeth ached and her tongue throbbed, but Apple Bloom did not make a noise as Zecora moved to her ears.

Come, come and hear,

A Shaman ascends today.

With hearing fine and sweat,

To listen to Ioka’s music clear.

The chill covered the back of Apple Bloom’s ears, and as Zecora’s touch retreated, drums began to roll through the Everfree. Deep, rumbling drums. The tops of the pines seemed to shake in the blue light as the music sunk deeper throughout the woods.

Come, come and chase,

A Shaman is tested today.

With body fast and strong,

To guard Ioka’s enchanted embrace.

Growing louder, the drums rose to a crescendo as Zecora painted Apple Bloom’s withers, sides, and legs. As the last of the paint was applied, the drums ceased, the air stilled, and a heavy silence rushed to fill the void.

Unsure what came next, Apple Bloom started to look up at Zecora, but movement at the glade’s edge caught her attention. Something was moving within the shrinking shadows. Peering closer, she saw amber eyes glowing in the dark. Apple Bloom’s breath caught in her throat. A long leg slid out of the gloom, followed by a pink nose and long, tapered muzzle. The fox’s long ears swiveled around, honing in on the slightest sound.

Timidly, she darted forward, vanishing behind a stone for a moment before emerging from around another. In a zigzagging pattern, the fox drew closer and closer to the trio. No more than a dozen hooves away, she stepped out into the open, her three tails raised high. Apple Bloom saw the glyphs for ‘Fire’, ‘Water’, and ‘Laughter’, bright against the foxes dark fur. Halting, the fox set her eyes on Apple Bloom, the amber ords growing impossibly wide. Releasing a yelp, she turned and ran.

Like a loosed hound, Apple Bloom took off after the fox, her hooves kicking up pebbles as she galloped into the forest’s heart. Trees whipped past their heads, the chase simple and pure; a flat out race. Looking back, the fox snarled before bouncing off a log, altering her direction at a right angle. Slowing just enough to take the corner, Apple Bloom smiled and laughed.

She could hear the drums again, their frenzied tempo driving her short legs to move faster. A break in the music told Apple Bloom to jump. She cleared a small culvert that had been hidden by a shrub, the drums resuming as her hooves dug into the soft earth on the far side. From ahead Apple Bloom could hear the gentle hiss and bubble of water.

The Everfree River, she reasoned.

Letting out a laugh of her own, the fox plunged through a gap in the trees and out into bright sunshine. Without a splash or ripple, she vanished into the water as Apple Bloom skidded to a stop at the river’s bank. A bare moment later, not near long enough to have swam across, the fox emerged on the river’s far side.

It seemed as if the river itself thrust upwards, taking the shape of the fox.

“Silly pony, silly pony, can’t catch me. Silly pony, silly pony, dumb as dumb can be!” taunted the fox, waving her posterior at Apple Bloom before blowing a raspberry.

Apple Bloom didn’t respond, instead she pulled from her saddlebags a large, crystal snowflake and tossed it at the river. A noise like breaking glass filled the air the moment the crystal landed, the river turning to ice for a hundred lengths in both directions.

“Well, that’s cheating,” the watery fox pouted, before turning and bounding off again, heading in the direction of Ponyville and the sound of hammers.

And so the chase went, out of the Everfree and through the construction site, into the town before reaching the market.

Jumping off the last roof, the fox spun in mid-air, launching a last cluster of ghost-fire. Though her lungs burned and her body ached, Apple Bloom followed the fox, accepting the fires’ stinging blows upon her face and chest. Two sets of eyes widened, and Apple Bloom knew that the chase had reached it’s end. Wrapping her hooves about the fox in a tight tackle, they fell together, striking an awning before tumbling down atop the Sweet Apple Acre apple cart.

“What in Tartarus?” Applejack exclaimed, jumping away from the struggling ball of fur and water.

A ring formed around the pair. Yowling and spitting, the fox bit Apple Bloom’s foreleg, while her tails coiled around the filly’s barrel and hind legs. Suppressing the pain that flared through the tired limb, Apple Bloom used her earth pony strength, what little remained, to break the fox’s grip and force her into a pin. Panting, her breaths fast and laboured, Apple Bloom glared down into eyes that mirrored her own.

“I’m Apple Bloom,” she managed to say between gasps.

“Orenda,” replied the kitsune, the fire leaving her eyes. Her tails grew slack, and her fur lost it’s liquid appearance, becoming a wintery blue. “It’s nice to meet you, Shaman Apple Bloom.”

Author's Note

The Apple and the Fox, unedited from the original version.

Orginal cover art by Saint Juniper:

The Apple and the Fox: Part 2

The Apple and the Fox, Part Two
By Tundara

Apple Bloom sat in sullen silence on the old couch in the Apple homestead’s living room. While her features showed regret, inside she was bubbling over with happiness. This joy overflowed on occasion, manifesting as a wide grin followed by a long, bubbling giggle that made her eyes sparkle brighter. Quickly, Apple Bloom hid her happiness, only for it to crack through her forced dour exterior.

Beside her lay a dark blue fox-like spirit, chin resting on folded paws. Four white-tipped, puffy tails, each carrying a different mystical symbol wrapped around Apple Bloom. Sleek, with a long face and bright golden eyes, the edges of her fur seemed to shimmer and fade away, as if she were only partly present on the couch. The kitsune refused to hide her own joy. Long teeth glinted as she smiled down on two foals placed in a playpen at the center of the room.

Little Ambrosia, a toy block in her hooves, glanced up at the pair as a giggle made her honey-gold body sway. Zephyr scooted around the playpen, dragging her diaper and making an odd sputtering noise.

“They’re so cute when they’re little.” Orenda cooed at the foals and playfully batted the air in their direction.

“Yeah,” Apple Bloom agreed. “But then they start crying at two in the morning,” she added with a slight smirk.

Hopping down from the couch, Orenda approached the playpen. Her tufted ears wiggled and tails swished in a slow, hypnotic dance. She circled the pen three times one way, considered the foals for a few moments, and then circled it seven times in the other direction.

“There is something… odd, with them,” the kitsune hummed lifting an eye towards Apple Bloom. “A hex? No… something older and far more powerful. A curse… but… not a curse. I’ve seen something like this before…”

Apple Bloom bit her lip and gave an innocent whistle. She wasn’t supposed to talk about Fostering. But, if she couldn’t trust Orenda, who could she? Although less than an hour had passed, Apple Bloom could feel where she and Orenda were now tenuously tethered. The budding mystical bond linking them soul to soul still forming, still developing. Delicate strands waited to either solidify, or snap. A warm glow filled the space between her stomach and heart, thrumming in a slow pulse, matching Orenda’s steady pulse.

Catching Orenda and then giving each other their names had been but only a step on the bonding process, much like the chase itself. Magic was shared between them, linking Apple Bloom and Orenda far deeper than friendship or familial bonds. Every now and then, Apple Bloom swore she could hear Orenda’s thoughts, but chalked it up to excitement and her own active imagination.

Orenda tapped a paw to her chin, then shrugged before jumping back onto the couch.

“You have strange relatives, Apple.” Orenda concluded as she curled herself into a ball next to Apple Bloom.

“Bloom, actually.”

Lifting an ear, Orenda glanced up at her partner.

“Apple is my clan-name,” Apple Bloom continued.

“Ah.” The kitsune nodded her head before resting it back on her paws.

The foals played some more.

Sol began to slant through the windows, the day turning a bronze hue.

Apple Bloom glanced up at the clock, wondering what was taking Applejack and Soarin so long to come up with her punishment.

She jumped as Orenda said, “I thought pony names went given then clan.”

Grumbling a little—she’d faced similar comments all her life—Apple Bloom replied, “I ain’t one to guess why the Namegiver gave me the name she did,” her words containing more of a bite than intended.

“Perhaps it is because it sounds better that way.” Orenda shot a playful smirk up at her new partner. “Bloom Apple doesn’t have the same flow to it.”

“I suppose.”

Taking the opportunity, Apple Bloom glanced, for the thousandth time in the past hour, at her flank and her new mark. There, shining brightly, was a large zap apple blossom sitting above a sprig of foxglove. Seeing her mark made her so giddy Apple Bloom didn’t care what punishment Applejack would give her for the ruckus in town.

It had finally happened.

Last of her class, yes.

A little late, perhaps.

But, she’d found her special talent.

It was a little average, sure, a lot of ponies having flower related marks. The foxglove was rare, though. She’d never seen or heard of a pony with that particular flower. At least, not in Ponyville. There’d be other ponies out there with foxgloves in their marks. And of course there was the apple connection. Apple Bloom would have been knocked onto her flanks if she’d discovered her mark wasn’t in some fashion apple related.

A most perfect cutie mark.

“You still haven’t completed the ritual,” Orenda said, running her tongue over her fangs. “If it isn’t completed by sunset…”

“I know, I know,” irritation tightened Apple Bloom’s jaw.

“Sharing our names was only a beginning. All creatures share names when they meet…”

“Don’t worry. We got plenty of time to finish the ritual. I just have to make sure everything is okay between me and Applejack first.”

“But, the sun is already getting rather far to the west…”

The front door thumping open put a premature end to the conversation. Apple Bloom jumped off the couch, and straightened her shoulders to withstand whatever was about to come through the door. She gulped as Applejack and Soarin entered, both covered in dust. A deep scowl was carved onto her sister’s angular face, eyes dark in the shade of her hat.

“And I thought being a stunt-flier was tough,” Soarin chuckled as he closed the door before settling down on a chair between the window and hearth while Applejack headed into the kitchen to retrieve the bottles of milk for the foals. “My hooves feel about ready to fall off. Big Mac is a juggernaut. He never stops.”

Soarin hardly had time to get comfortable before there was a knock on the door and Rainbow let herself into the farmhouse.

“Hey, Soarin, AB,” Rainbow nodded to the pair as she made a beeline for the playpen and her daughter. “Zeph didn’t give you any trouble, did she?”

Soarin shrugged his wings and pointed to Granny Smith, the ancient mare asleep in her rocking chair. “She’d be the one to ask. Bloom was supposed to be watching them, but…”

Another shrug, followed by a heavy chuckle.

Rainbow hesitated, Zephyr settled between her wings, opened her mouth to say something, thought better of it, and then shook her head. Motherhood had really mellowed Rainbow, Apple Bloom wryly thought.

“Well, thanks anyways.” Rainbow lingered, moving from side to the other as she chewed on a question. “Hey… AB… what was that all about today in the market? All the jumping from rooftops and stuff. It was kinda cool… but not like you. Scoots I could totally see doing it. And what was with that fox?”

Blinking a few times, Apple Bloom slowly turned her head to make sure Orenda was still beside her. She was, a wide smirk baring the spirit’s fangs.

“You can’t see her anymore?” Apple Bloom asked Rainbow, glancing a few more times between the two.

“Huh? What, she can go invisible?” Rainbow hopped back, wings extending a little as if for a fight, and only remembered her passenger as a long yawn broke from Zephyr, a tiny hoof reaching up to grip the end of Rainbow’s mane.

A slight ripple worked its way from the tip of one tail over the rest of Orenda’s sleek body. Orenda raised a paw to wave, but instead caught a cushion to the face.

“What is that varmint doing in the house?” Applejack snapped, reaching for another cushion with one hoof while positioning herself above Ambrosia.

“Orenda is not a ‘varmint’! She’s a kitsune and a nature spirit!” Apple Bloom jumped up, ready to march across the room at her sister. “Besides, you let Winona sleep in the same room as Ambrosia. Ain’t that right, Soarin?”

Saorin was held up his hooves in a defensive motion. He had learned long before to avoid interfering when his wife and sister-in-law began to argue.

With a heavy crash of her hoof, Applejack snapped, “We ain’t talking about Winona, and don’t go looking for somepony to be saving your tail this time.”

“All I was hoping is for somepony to have some common sense around here,” Apple Bloom shot back, instantly regretting her words.

“Common sense is what you should have been using. What in Tartarus were you thinking, Bloom?” Applejack vibrated with anger, corners of her jaw clenched tight and fires deep in her green eyes. “Speaker Tantra told me you went running straight through the construction site. You could have been hit on the head, crushed, or worse! What if something had happened to you?”

Apple Bloom scoffed, tail flicking like a whip. “Nothing was going to happen to me.”

“I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you too.”

“Oh, don’t try and pin a sob-story on me.” Apple Bloom’s hackles raised along with her voice. “You always do that. ‘What would I do?’ ‘What would Mama say if she were here.’ Well, she ain’t. And it ain’t my fault she’s gone.”

If Applejack was taken aback by the vitriolic snarl she failed to show any signs. Instead her own hackles raised higher, and her voice gained an even deeper growl to it.

“Don’t you go bringing Mama into this.”

“Why not? It seems to be your go-to argument these days, and how I’d be such a great, big burden on her, just like I am on you!” Furious tears matted the fur underneath Apple Bloom’s eyes. “You probably ain’t even noticed I got my cutie mark now.”

“Good for you, but that ain’t what were discussing right now,” Applejack dismissively spat.

The words were like a dagger sliding between Apple Bloom’s ribs into her heart. A cold fury twisted her gut, and she had to rip her gaze away from her sister. Disappointment wracked her head, making the room spin for a moment.

Why couldn’t Applejack just be happy for her for once? This was supposed to be the best day of her young life. She’d at last found her special talent, the one thing that completed her on a level deeper than mere hobby or infatuation. She was a shamaness, imbued with the knowledge and skill to handle all manner of potion and poultice, bonded to a spirit and capable of actual magic like a unicorn. She was probably the first Earth pony able to use magic since Smart Cookie.

And Applejack dismissed this as if it were less than nothing.

Worse, Applejack continued to coddle and act as if she were a foal that couldn’t look after herself.

“I don’t need you to protect me,” Apple Bloom said softly, her own anger giving her voice a frosty snap. “I didn’t need you in Southstone Spires, and I don’t need you now. If an army of undead griffons and three alicorns going at each other with anger and acrimony weren’t going to get me, a simple run ain’t either.”

Applejack snorted like a bull about to charge, eyes narrowing into glimmering slits. “Simple run? That was—Where are going?!”

“I need to go. Zecora is waiting for us, and it would be rude to keep her waiting any longer.” Apple Bloom shot Applejack a scathing look, and marched out of the house.

“We ain’t finished yet!” Applejack shouted, stomping after Apple Bloom. “You get back in here right now!”

“Yes, we are,” Apple Bloom retorted, throwing on her saddlebags and old, ratty Crusader’s cloak. It was a bit small, and stained with blood on the once-white patches. Heavier than its deceptively thin appearance indicated, her cloak carried with it many good and terrible memories. “You ain’t my mother, Applejack! I’m a grown mare now. I can make my own decisions.”

These were the last words Apple Bloom said to her sister, and would come to be an anchor around her heart.

Before Applejack could counter, demand she come back again, Apple Bloom sped off towards the Everfree Forest. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Her heart slammed against her chest. The familiar rows of apple trees rippled past in a blur. If she slowed and looked back, she knew she’d have gone back.

Nothing would be solved. They would just argue until the sun set, yelling past each other, tempers continuing to rise until they couldn’t even look at each other.

It had been the same ever since they got home from Gryphonia. Applejack’s smothering overprotectiveness. It had always been there, but never to such degrees. ‘Be careful’. ‘Don’t got into the Everfree.’ And even, ‘Stay out of the barn.’

It was like Applejack expected the disc to try to swallow her if she stepped out of the house.

Why couldn’t Applejack just be happy for her for once?

Why couldn’t she understand that being in the Everfree and learning all about plants, poultices, and potions made her happy? That learning how to heal or strengthen ponies made her feel safe? Made her feel useful if… it ever happened again. How, like her friends, she never wanted to be in trouble and be useless as she’d been before.

But no, all Applejack could do was boss her around and domineer. Never giving a word of encouragement or support. Just warnings given between clenched teeth. Barking demands to stay away from the Everfree, and especially Zecora!

Apple Bloom sped through the familiar parts of the forest, hooves churning up trails she’d travelled since first meeting Zecora. Over a low hillock shrouded in thick, emerald limbs, she turned onto new paths in case Applejack thought to follow her. Long legged in the blossoming years of maidenhood, it took little time to traverse the twisting trail into the forbidden depths that nopony dared venture. Paths made by monstrous beasts, long furrows clawed through earth and root, lead her towards the base of the mountains.

Panting, Apple Bloom emerged on the narrow bank of one of the many small tributaries of the Everfree River. Her legs ached from all the long hours of running, and the potions she’d taken to catch Orenda leaving her system. Looking around she frowned a little trying to figure out where she’d ended up. From the way the mountains loomed, casting their deepening shadows over the crystal clear water bubbling past her hooves. Moss dangled in vibrant curtains from pines, a red crested woodpecker watching her from a branch before flitting off. A second passed, and the rap-tap-tap of him pecking echoed through the trees.

Momentary panic welled in her throat, and as quickly was quenched. She’d gone much deeper than intended, and now couldn’t reach the ritual site she and Zecora had prepared. Biting down a curse, Apple Bloom cast a glance up and down the small river. She needed a small glade or open area, and soon, if she was to complete the binding in time.

“This way,” Orenda called from across the river, perched up in a branch. There was a note of worry in the kitsune’s voice that sent a jolt up Apple Bloom’s spine.

Without arguing or asking where they were going, Apple Bloom jumped over the river using a few stones and hurried after the fleeting images of Orenda’s three blue tails. They went only a very short distance before they emerged into a glade of sorts sheltered by truly ancient old growth cedars. Trunks as thick as some cottages, they formed a blocky perimeter around an open, flat area in the forest. Quarried stones dotted the ground in neat lines where there had once been the walls for some building, a dirt ramp hiding beneath probably stairs of some sort. It was a ruin dating back to before the War of the Sun and Moon, if Apple Bloom had to guess.

She wasted no time exploring the site, and instead dug her hooves into the soft, mossy forest floor. Dragging her hooves she began to quickly draw the complex symbols for the binding circle. Orenda paced around the edges of the glade, bounding up on a short pile of stones, then up to a stout branch like a cat.

Sticking her tongue out of the side of her mouth as she worked, Apple Bloom could feel the weight of Sol’s impending setting on her back. Dusk began to paint the sky peaking through the canopy in swatches of light pink that began to darken to purples.

To distract herself from the lack of time, Apple Bloom asked, “If you ain’t bothered, why did you let me catch you?”

Pausing in her pacing, Orenda asked, “What makes you think I let you catch me?”

Apple Bloom gave the kitsune a flat stare, to which Orenda let out a long, chirping laugh akin to a birds.

“You got that… something,” Orenda responded happily, muzzle pulled back in a wide smile. She shook her three tails, and bounced up onto a log overlooking the ritual circle Apple Bloom was digging. “Something that I need. That I like.”

For a too-long pause Apple Bloom just continued to stare, then let out a sigh and went back to work. “Well, when you figure out what that something is, you’ll tell me, right?”

“You’ll know right away,” Orenda enigmatically promised, dropping down into the edge of the ritual circle.

A whisper of a prayer in the back of her head hoped that Celestia was running a little late setting Sol. It was almost impossible. Celestia only failed to raise or set Sol when some disaster was striking the disc. And even then, she more often than not managed to meet her obligations.

None too soon, Apple Bloom finished the circle. Lacking the time to give it a proper inspection in case she’d made some mistake, Apple Bloom fell right into the spell to complete the binding of her and Orenda.

Standing on one side of the circle with Orenda opposite, Apple Bloom closed her eyes and reached inwardly for the fraying link. It was so close to snapping, to forever being lost, and with it her chance to join with Orenda in a way few others could begin to comprehend. Sol’s edge touched the lip of the disc, and the final, thin strands started to snap just as Apple Bloom poured all her latent magic through her body, out of her hooves, and into the ritual circle towards Orenda. Throwing back her head, Orenda let out a long, keening wail almost like the howl of a wolf.

Sol plunged in the usual sudden shift of day into night. Pitch black darkness fell over the small glade.

The strands wavered, and Apple Bloom feared she’d been too late. That the brief pause in forming the circle had cost her the connection she so desperately desired with Orenda.

Slowly, so slowly, the strands began to reform, and then grow. Golden radiance burned bright to be met by a flow of sapphire luminescence coming from Orenda. They entwined, wrapping around and blending into the other until a single, striped cord formed. Thicker and thicker, colours grasped in hooked knots, until a twisting cable took shape around the formerly thin cord.

Pulses ran along the bond. A gasp parted Apple Bloom’s mouth as foreign emotions washed into her. Thoughts and memories came in stuttering flashes. Jungle glades and golden-yellow grasslands. Muddy brooks and the roaring crash of a waterfall. The weathered face of an old zebra sitting in the shade of a grass hut. The same zebra, now younger by decades, blue eyes bright with the exertion of the chase. Loss pierced her breast, and Apple Bloom tossed back her head in a keening wail as he passed away.

As quick as they came, the memories passed, but not the connecting emotions. She could feel Orenda along the edges of perception. Hear the whispering traces of Orenda’s thoughts as if they were an extension of her own.

Apple Bloom felt so complete. So alive. A rush of fulfillment leaving her momentarily dizzy and laughing in pure bliss.

She took a step towards Orenda, and her hoof scraped across something hard just beneath the moss floor at the very heart of the circle she had formed for the ritual.

A great bell tolled inside Apple Bloom’s head, splitting her joy with sudden agony.

Staggering backwards she both heard and felt Orenda let out a pained yelp, and clutch her own head with her paws. Orenda’s surprise flashed white-hot in the base of Apple Bloom’s skull, heightened by the unfamiliar nature of their new bond.

Unprepared for the twin assaults of both physical and mental pain, Apple Bloom reeled backwards.

The disc spun for a moment.

Her stomach twisted itself up.

And then a wave of calm flowed into her from Orenda, her partner’s putting her experience to use calming and shielding Apple Bloom from the worst of the onslaught.

From the defensive posture Orenda adopted, this was not part of the binding ritual. Ears pressed back, Orenda bared her teeth and growled at the slate black darkness of the Everfree. Tails lashed at the slightest movement of the branches. New runes and spells darted into Apple Bloom’s head. Defensive magic to form shields. And offensive spells to make acids or crackling bursts of lightning. Whichever was needed.

“I don’t think we need that kind of magic,” Apple Bloom pointlessly began to say, when she was knocked down.

Something burst out of the ground where she’d been when the bell struck.

Her mouth fell open a little as she saw a tablet of greyish-green stone floating a couple pony lengths over the ritual circle. Little sparks flickered over its surface, tracing from the edges inward and down into runes carved deep into its surface. Apple Bloom recognised the script at once, even if she was unable to read it; it was of Marelantis.

A pit formed in Apple Bloom’s stomach.

“We need to get out of here,” she barked.

Of their own accord, the walls of the ruins began to reform. Moss retreated, stones digging themselves out of the soft soil before being flung one atop another. Doors rotten into mounds regrew, then slammed into restored frames. Stained glass shards whipped themselves into a deadly, multihued tornado. An altar began to retake former shape, thrusting aside centuries of decay in a few moments. Lightning crackled between the walls of the former ruins to the giant cedars, rebounding to the tablet, and down to the altar.

The tablet pulsed brighter and brighter, the glade illuminated as if Sol floated in its midst. Winds howled, flinging Apple Bloom’s mane about her and into her eyes. She staggered towards the center of the circle, a leg raised to protect her face.

“Orenda! Where are you?” Apple Bloom demanded, blinded by the light coming from the tablet.

Panic flowing from her thoughts, Orenda backed towards her newly bonded partner. “Here! Just think, and you’ll be able to find me.”

Doing her best to calm her fear, Apple Bloom found she could ‘see’ Orenda on the other side of the restored temple. Concentrating, she could even see through Orenda’s eyes. There was a brief instant of vertigo as she was looking at herself, eyes crammed shut against the blazing nimbus of light coming off the now spinning tablet.

Faster and faster the lightning pulsed. The stained glass shards flung themselves into the windows, and scenes of Celestia and Luna and Faust were renewed.

Underneath them the disc heaved, and then the ground fell away. With a shriek swallowed by the whirling tempest, Apple Bloom and Orenda plummeted into darkness. Further and further they fell, with only the dimming glow of the tablet above as a point of light, until it too vanished in a soundless clap.

For what seemed an eternity they fell through that vast abyss. A soundless, lightless void. There was neither warmth, nor its shocking lack.

If not for the heavy thump of her heart, Apple Bloom would have thought she’d perhaps died and was on her way to Lethe’s bank to be ferried to the afterlife. Her lungs began to burn, fire crawling through her chest as she gasped for air that didn’t exist in this terrible nothingness. Panic clawed at her. She swung her hooves wildly, and when she tried to clutch at her throat she found she couldn’t feel own fur.

Then it came to a bone jarring end. The last vestiges of breath burst from her lungs. Stars popping throughout her vision at the shocking return of light. Sol’s blistering rays prodded her face from the sun dangling far overhead. Apple Bloom greedily sucked in ragged gasps of warm, muggy air through aching teeth.

She sent silent thanks to Celestia for her deliverance as the blood pounding in her ears began to subside and her panic faded. Sore muscles protesting any movement, Apple Bloom gingerly turned her head to find Orenda, hissing as Sol stung her tender eyes.

Shielding her face with a leg, Apple Bloom looked around. She was on the sloping side of a rocky hill populated by only sparse, gnarled trees and tufts of yellowed grass. To one side waited an expansive woods, while to the other unfamiliar loomed mountains topped with glistening white.

Groaning she rolled over, calling for Orenda. The spirit answered with a pained mewl.

“Were we teleported?” Apple Bloom wondered, staring out over the woods.

“I’ve never heard of such a method if we have,” Orenda answered in a moan, shaking out her tails.

Testing out her legs, and finding that other than a bit of stiffness, she was fine, Apple Bloom asked, “Any idea where we are?”

“No place I’ve ever been before,” Orenda responded, jumping up onto Apple Bloom’s withers in a manner that would become common for the pair. “I am afraid I recognise neither this forest nor those mountains, nor that sea.” Orenda pointed to a strip of blue just barely visible at the foggy edge of the miasmic horizon that permeated the disc.

Staying on the hillside a bad idea, Apple Bloom headed down towards the woods, hoping they were just in a new part of the Everfree. Perhaps on the southern side of the mountains. But, Sol was in the wrong place for that. Unless the seasons had shifted to high-summer, when Sol liked to fly over the upper quarter of the disc.

They wander through the forest, and very quickly something became apparent; they were not in the Everfree anymore. Or even Equestria.

Well tended, the forest reminded Apple Bloom more of tales from the Books of Sol and Selene. Tall, slender oaks and broad chestnuts formed pillars for a thin, entwined canopy that allowed shafts of dancing light down to the leafy forest floor. It was enchanting, and several times Apple Bloom was certain she could make out laughter just on the edges of perception, so great was the semblance to the stories of Luna and the Oracle she’d read.

Orenda was far more at peace, her new partner draping her back legs either side of Apple Bloom’s chest, with her chin resting atop folded paws on her head.

An overgrown road, thick tufts of grass poking out between wide cobblestones weathered into ruts by many generations of trundlings wagons crossed her path. Few ponies used the road now, enough to keep one side a little trampled down, but not enough to keep the roadway clear of the encroaching growth.

Glancing left and right, Apple Bloom picked a direction at random, and continued on her way.

“You feel the magic in this place?” Orenda queried a couple hours into their walk, twitching her middlemost tail. A spasm ran up the kitsune’s back. “Old magic. Pure magic. There are few places like this left on the disc. So many have been tainted.”

Apple Bloom nodded solemnly.

She could feel the power in this forest, a healthy flow of untended magic permeating the soil and feeding the trees, drifting up into the air until it formed little patches of fog. Even the Everfree rarely boasted enough pure magic to have it manifest in such a manner. But then, the Everfree was like an ancient, battle scarred dragon, growling at anything that drew too near. While this forest elicited images of a healthy, middle-aged stallion resting in the shade, a sprig of wheat pressed in his lips.

The image abruptly shattered as they came across a patch of sickness.

A swamp swallowed the road, a deep bog of stinking peat and barely flowing water extending in either direction and straight ahead. More troublesome were the ratty, decrepit roofs and toppled walls of a once thriving town that poked out of the calm waters. There was a crunch underhoof, and glancing down, Apple Bloom saw she stood on the femur of a long dead pony.

Screaming, she jumped back as Orenda leapt off her shoulders, tails dancing and gleaming eyes searching for danger.

Heart hammering with a rush of adrenaline, Apple Bloom stared at a field of bones just poking out of the grass on the road. Dozens of bodies, all twisted up where they’d died trying to flee the town, bones weathered from centuries out in the open where the otherwise enchanting forest refused to encroach.

“L-Let’s try the other way,” Apple Bloom suggested, already turning around at a quick cantor that made Orenda have to run to keep up.

On her back she felt something watching her. Through the trees came a rippling, low growl. Bursting into a full gallop, she didn’t slow until they were a couple hills away.

Gazing upwards as they rounded one of many bends in the rarely used road, though now Apple Bloom knew why, she almost walked right into the first pony she found.

A middle-aged brown mare, the other pony had a set of baskets strapped on her sides filled with leafy fronds of cabbages. Several other mares and stallions, accompanied by a few older foals, worked a pair of small cabbage patches that broke open the tranquil forest on either side of the road. On the other side of the fields there rested a snug, little village.

More than even the mare, Apple Bloom was taken aback by the village itself, as it had walls.

A proper, old fashioned palisade complete with ditch and watchtower keeping lookout over the fields and narrow road. Dab grey and brown ponies worked the fields. At a glance, Apple Bloom made out cabbages, carrots, chard, and some sort of bean in squared off areas. The workers looked up as Apple Bloom approached, brows furrowed as they studied her.

“Hello, I was wondering if you could tell me where I am?” She asked in her usual, friendly manner.

The ponies looked to each other, and then spoke in a rough, foreign tongue Apple Bloom had never heard. An elderly mare approached, and Apple Bloom was certain the other ponies cautioned her to stay back. She spoke to Apple Bloom in a different language, and then tried a third when that one was also unknown. When they all proved ineffective, they switched to the tried and true method of gesturing while saying the same words louder and slower, as if that would make them any clearer.

“Here, let me help,” Orenda said, jumping onto Apple Bloom’s back. Placing her paws on Apple Bloom’s temples,

“You are a witch,” the mare said, backing up.

Through a sour frown, Apple Bloom said, “I ain’t a witch. I’m an apprentice shaman.”

“Technically, you graduated when we became bound,” Orenda chidded softly.

Ignoring Orenda for the moment, Apple Bloom gestured to the forest, village, and then the mountains peeking over the treetops. “I just want to know where I am. I don’t mean any harm.”

Again, the ponies all looked at each other with concern.

“You are in Thule, of course.”

“Of course,” Apple Bloom repeated in a sigh. Then she paused, ears perking up. “Wait, Thule? But, there ain’t been no Thule for…” She scrunched up her nose trying to remember Miss Cheerilee's history lessons. “A really long time,” Apple Bloom concluded when the number escaped her. She’d always been better at more practical skills than remember dates and numbers.

Unless it was alchemy. But, that was fun and interesting, unlike history.

Misinterpreting her, the mare said, “You must be thinking of Thulesia. Which became Thule, oh, not more than four hundred years ago. It is a surprisingly common mistake for outsiders to make.” The mare wore a placating sort of smile, as if she were talking to a slow pony.

“Though you’d think they’d know better by now,” snidely remarked on of the other ponies.

Apple Bloom fell to her rump. What the mare said was impossible. She may have had trouble remembering the precise year Thule broke apart, but she had no difficulties remembering when the fabled empire Faust had built came to its sudden end. Mostly as it was in antiquity so distant to have been ancient when Celestia and Luna had been born.

Looking to her new partner, Apple Bloom said dully, “Orenda, I think we ain’t in Equestria no more…”

Continued in Mountain of the Alabaster Throne, coming... eventually?

Author's Note

After far too long, here is the continuation of Apple Bloom and Orenda's story.

This has been a story that I've worked off and on upon for a few years now. There are several in this category it seems. I need to stop being so flaky and finish what I start...

It was a comment by one of the readers that really helped spur a sudden twinge of much needed impetus to actually write down what had for a long time been circulating in the back of my thoughts on what came next for Apple Bloom and Orenda. I've always both loved what I had brainstormed for AB and her foxy friend, and hated it. It is a tad trite, but I also love that sort of thing at times. I mean, I grew up reading over and over Anne McCaffery's Dragonriders of Pern books, which while fun, engaging stories, are by no means examples of superb writing.

That aside, there was also always the question of there being spoilers for the main story of Myths. Though, by this point, I've rather stopped worrying about that.

While I don't want to jinx things, I'm feeling more like my old self and writing again. Fingers crossed that this is only the start of a once more productive period.

The First Sparkle (Dark, Gore)

The First Sparkle
By Tundara

Nestled just beyond furthest reaches of the new Republic of Equestria, there sat a lonely little cabin next to a strong river within a pleasant forest of rolling hills pockmarked with glades and the occasional field. Smoke puffed from the stone chimney, lifting up through tall trees speckled with clumps of winter snow. A curtain in one window was pulled aside, a bright green eye looking out on the white drifts that hemmed in around the cabin’s side with undisguised distrust.

A storm was brewing, winds howling down from the distant mountains carrying the promise of yet more snow and a sharp drop in temperature. It was supposed to be mid-June, with the Summer Solstice fast approaching, and yet all the land outside was gripped in the deepest winter, as had been the case the past several years.

Inside, the cabin was snug and warm. Simple but strong furnishings filled the small, single room. On one side sat the fireplace and cooking pots, a mantle holding a few possessions brought over from the old world. Cameo’s carved into shells, a silver urn, and an old, worn violin. These few, meagre belongings were all the cabin’s occupants had managed to save when the Queendom’s fell into anarchy and chaos.

On the other side of the cabin sat a round table of maplewood shoved into a corner next to a bunk-bed. Curled up on the top bunk beneath a pile of thick blankets, a muddy brown filly watched her mother move from the window back to the pot of boiling stew.

“Momma… Can you tell me about summer?”

The tan mare, Maple Syrup, had her features permanently pinched with worry and her once strawberry red mane pulled back into a severe bun didn’t look up from the stew as she took the old ladle in her teeth and gave the thin, watery brew a stir.

There was little of substance within the pot. Maple had taken to adding pine cones and leaves collected from beneath the snow drifts earlier in the week to stretch out their provisions. A single potato, dug up during the brief window of warmth when the dreadful endless winter seemed to at last be past, was grey with bruises and old, having been kept in a bucket beneath the floor in the dip that served as a cellar for the cabin.

During the first few weeks after the ponies had arrived, when they been greeted by curious deer, it had seemed like they’d set hoof within Elysium itself. Warm days, fields to till, and seemingly endless forests of pines had stretched out before the refuge fleets. There were feasts to celebrate the formation of the new republic, the earth ponies claiming the most verdant and fertile of the lands between a trio of rivers.

This suited the unicorns, who had no interest in soiling their hooves with common labour, and had taken to the hills and short mountains a little to the south to set up a new queendom. The unicorns would never deign to work fields and grow their own food. In exchange, the nobles and their soldiers provided protection to the earth ponies that worked their lands, providing one of the services traditionally supplied by the pegasi.

Extorted food, was more the reality, as the unicorns spent equel time fighting each other as they did oppressing the earth ponies or sneering at the pegasi. Maple didn’t know, and didn’t care, which of the unicorn Houses had claimed the nascent crown, or if any had secured it before the winter caught up to them.

The pegasi came shortly after, just a few days behind the fleet, pulling entire cities across the ocean to escape the ravages of the old world.

Maple didn’t mind the pegasi. They had, at least, set aside their arms and armour along with their legendary pride to help build a new nation. Most had, anyways. There were threats of fighting with the deer, and a few of the pegasi clans had gone inland.

If only the unicorns could do the same. Bunch of piss-pot horn-heads that had brought nothing but misery on the disc.

What use were they? Their wizards had proved utterly useless at ending the blizzards that followed ponykind wherever they went. They’d promised that Equestria would be safe. That the White Tyrant would not or could not reach them so far away from the old world.

Fools and liars, all of them.

Maple gave a shudder, and hitched her threadbare blanket higher on her withers.

At least this new land, this Equestria, had been safe for a few, blissful weeks.

But, like everywhere else, the winter followed, and once more ponies hovered on the edge of starvation or freezing in their own homes.

She let out a sigh heavy with the final, cracking traces of hope as she said over her shoulder, “Maybe some other time, Jewel.”

Maple spoke in a short, raspy voice, her throat tight from years working among the furnaces of Trotalonia’s armory.

Trotalonia was gone now. It had been the first of the queendoms to fall to the White Tyrant and her Windigoes. The cities all abandoned or buried by ice. A few villages or towns tried to cling to life in the valleys or along the fringes, eeking out a miserable existence. A few, somehow, managed to survive.

Not to be dissuaded, Jewel pushed her head further out from beneath her blankets, showing the small nub of a horn on her brow in the flickering orange glow cast by the fire.

“Please, momma? There is nothing else to do.”

Jewel clasped her hooves together, grey eyes sparkling with innocence and curiosity. Maple let out a short huff. Her Jewel was, perhaps, the last foal to have been born by a pony. A week late, it had been a hard birth. And then the shame of her being a unicorn. All the time she’d been carrying Jewel, Maple had prayed to the Springbringer that her daughter would be an earth pony. It was an equal chance.

But, no, the goddess had already grown cruel, and she’d made Jewel one of… them.

The mare had no idea as to the identity of Jewel’s father. Just that he’d been a soldier, one of thousands, serving in the Solar Army dedicated to Celestia. He’d been at the dreadful battle on the Airagos plains, when all the disc seemed to come to an end. For a week following the battle, as scattered reports that Celestia had fallen and the sun refused to budge in the sky created a single day, all the disc held its breath. And then, as Sol finally set, the snows had come early.

Even if he’d survived the war, and the long years of winter that had followed, the mare had no idea of how to find him.

Not that he mattered.

Although… he might have at least been able to provide guidance to Jewel on her magic. It was because of Jewel’s wild magic surges that they’d settled so far from other ponies. Having somepony that could have taught Jewel to control her magic would have brought Maple some peace of mind.

None of the other unicorns had any interest in helping Jewel. Even if the Long Winter had never happened, it would have been near impossible for a mixed blood like Jewel to have been accepted by either earth ponies or unicorns.

Jewel was about to beg again, when a heavy thump-thump-thump echoed from the small door.

Maple spun around, the edges of her tail singed as they passed through the open flame of the fireplace, to stare at the door. Her heart hammered in her chest, and silently she prayed to Faust, Celestia, and Luna that she’d only imagined the knocks. Covering her mouth, Jewel shrunk back beneath her covers.

Slowly, Maple approached the door, almost skittering back as the thumps were repeated.

“W-Who goes there?” she called in a voice that trembled more than her knees.

“Ah, good! There is somepony here after all,” replied somepony in a loud voice that rang with laughter and good-humour. “I told you there would be someone here. May we come in?”

“‘We’? Whois is this ‘we’?” Maple pressed her face to the freezing window to peek out. She could discern the shapes of two ponies, but that was all in the clouds of snow being swept up by the wind.

“Just my sister and I. Please, we’ve traveled far and are tired. We just wish to share your fire for tonight.”

Chewing on her lip, Maple glanced up to her daughter and then the door. A long sigh eventually broke from her. She knew the Tenants of Harmony well, they’d been beaten into her enough times by her own mother’s wooden spoon. Compassion dictated help be given to those in need. Cursing fate, she went to the door.

“I have an old sword, and I know how to use it,” Maple lied, waiting a few more moments before pulling the door open.

She opened it just a crack, but it was enough to regret her decision at once.

On the other side stood a pair of pegasi; one in silver armour emblazoned with the sigil of the moon wreathed in wings, the other in chains, and both wearing thick fur cloaks with hoods that hid their faces.

“Thank you kindly,” the armoured pegasus said she pushed her way into the cabin pulling her sister along and shedding snow in her wake in large clumps. “Iridia’s tits, she’s made it a chilly one tonight. The Elements must be getting close to the Canterhorn by now if she’s putting in such an effort to freeze the disc.”

The armoured pegasus tossed back her hood, and Maple was almost struck dumb. The pegasus was beautiful in an unearthly way. From the strong yet delicate lines of her muzzle, to her slender, yet muscular neck, withers, and haunches; she was too perfect, carrying grace and power in one. Her eyes sparkled like polished blue diamonds and her teeth were so white and pristine when she smiled, which was often.

Only the depictions of the goddesses could compare.

The second pegasus was no less beautiful, but it was more threatening and sinister in nature. Her presence was wrong, unnatural, with a distinct wickedness about her impossibly black fur and yellow eyes. A strap was wrapped around her muzzle, and another her barrel to pin her wings.

“Ah, this is wonderful,” the first pegasus said followed by an appreciative whistle. “As cozy a cabin as ever there could be! Don’t you agree, Al?”

The second pegasus let out a low grunt and rolled her eyes.

Maple tried to smile, she really did, but it was thin and watery, much like the stew just reaching a boil.

“C-Can I offer you something to eat, m’lady?” Maple wasn’t sure of the honorifics with pegasi, but a ‘m’lady’ never seemed to go wrong.

The knightly pegasus merely raised a brow and followed up with a tilt of her head, as if she’d just turned a corner and been confronted with a rather perplexing painting.

“Nah, I’m no lady,” she said with a shrug of her wings. “Besides, I’d prefer to trade bread, rather than take from those who need it more. The night will sustain me and my sister just fine. We hardly need eat more than once a week. Ain’t that right, Al?”

Maple’s cheeks burned with shame at having her offer rejected. Never had she been so insulted, even if she had so little to share. She nearly demanded the pair leave at once, but held her tongue.

She would not dishonour her clan by being rude and turning the strangers out into the brewing storm.

Dropping down from her bunk, Jewel scooted towards the pegasi, wonder sparkling in her eyes. “Are you a knight?”

“I am of the night,” laughed the pegasus, tossing back her head and flashing her white teeth as she burst with mirth. Settling down, and taking a place near the fire, she shook her head at first, then seemed to think better of her answer. “No, and yes. I am of the Valla. As was my traitorous sister. We fought alongside Luna… until… Well, the winter.”

“You’ve met the moon?” Jewel stared with an open mouth.

Pulling a long loaf of bread and a block of cheese wrapped in a greasy cloth out of her saddlebags, the pegasus chuckled. “Aye, yes, I’ve met her too. We used to chat all the time, Selene and I. Miss her insight, sometimes, and her laugh. Luna ain’t the moon, per se, just as she isn’t the stars, you know.”

The muzzled pegasus growled something unintelligible and tried to shake her wings, causing the straps to creak and sending the chains a-jitter.

“Too true! I agree, Al, I agree. There is another coming for us. But when, and who? Ah, that’s the question.” The pegasus then clapped herself upside the head as she unfolded the cloth to reveal a block of cheese. “Sol’s ass! Where have my manners gone? I’ve not even introduced us yet. I’m Wynn, and this is Algol.”

Maple had been growing more and more irritated with the pair. The story of them knowing the Moon Goddess was beyond farfetched, to say nothing of speaking to the actual moon. Only the most important unicorns or pegasi could claim to have even been in the same room as Princess Luna. At the mention of the valla, though, her irritation turned to fear, a fear that became trembling dread when Wynn gave their names.

Snatching up Jewel, Maple shoved her daughter behind her while trying to puff up her shoulders.

Wynn looked Maple over with an unfazed eye, offering up a hunk of bread with a slice of cheese shoved in the middle.

Trying not to hungrily stare at the offering, Maple said, “I think it would be best if you l-leave, m’lady.”

“No mamma! Let them stay!” Jewel scooted out from between Maple’s legs, jumping up between the adults like she were about to face down an angry bear. “You can’t send a pony out in this weather. You just can’t!”

Maple wetted her lips as she glanced out the window to the now howling snow.

The Tenants of Harmony rang in her ears again, but it was Jewel’s pleading eyes that broke her resolve.

“Fine. But only until the storm lessons. Then, please, go. I don’t want any of the sort of trouble your kind brings.” Maple tossed back her mane and stamped a hoof for emphasis before going back to her stew.

“Weren’t planning to stay longer. Have to get this one to Luna before… Well, before the spring comes. And by my reckoning, it ain’t far off now.” Wynn gave a forceful nod, one that made Maple’s frown deepen.

They stayed up late into the night, Jewel and Wynn talking. The filly was an endless font of questions, as fillies her age are want to be, and Wynn seemed to enjoy talking to somepony. If not for her occasional vulgarity, Maple would have been grateful that somepony other than her was treating Jewel with kindness and respect.

Wynn even added to the stew, giving a bag of beans and some carrots to Maple in addition to the bread and cheese. Maple didn’t for a second believe the story that Wynn didn’t have to eat. She knew a hungry eye when she saw one, and from the way both Wynn and Algol sat near the fire and gazed longingly at the pot, it had been some time since either had rested and filled their bellies.

Eventually Jewel began to yawn, and rested her head against her mother’s side.

“What’s it like to fall? From the heavens I mean.” Jewel asked, fighting with her eyes to keep them open.

“Falling?” Wynn considered the question for some time, and when she answered it was in a slow, lost way. “It’s like… burning. We stars have a duality within us. Fire and ice, a soothing light like the moon, and a burning tempest like the sun. We’re something in between, and when we fall… one or the other is lost. Or maybe it is a bit of both? We lose so much of ourselves, burnt away as we pass through the barrier between the sky and heavens. And when we crash, this is what remains.” She gestured to herself and Algol.

It was Maple’s turn to ask. “Why is she muzzled? That’s not a nice thing to do to your sister.”

“For your protection.”

Aware of when she was not going to receive an answer, Maple was about to say that it was time for bed, when Wynn added, “When… When everything went to shit following Airagos… I don’t know if you know this, but the tyrant, as you call her, had a daughter. It’s all rather involved and I don’t know all the details myself, but when she—the daughter—cursed the unicorns for Clover’s role in…” Wynn shook her head, considered her words for a minute, and then continued. “My sister was hurt. She was and is the Dreamerstar, and whatever happened to cause the unicorns to lose their dreams, it affected her too. Maybe Luna can heal her. Put her back together. Or maybe we’ll have to wait for the other to come. I don’t know. But she needs me, and I won’t abandon her.”

Not knowing just how to respond, Maple picked up Jewel and carried her the few steps to the beds.

Tucking Jewel beneath her covers, Maple hazzard a glance to Algol. As she’d been since arriving, the dark coated pegasus sat between the window and fire, gazing up towards the hidden stars. There was something hollow in that gaze, and for a few moments Maple almost believed Wynn’s tall tales.

Whatever the truth, whether the pair of pegasi were in fact fallen stars or not, there was a wrongness to Algol. The storm could not pass quick enough so the pair could be on their way.

Maple got no sleep that night, sitting up to keep an eye on both her guests.

When dawn came, it rose up to reveal the storm had indeed broken during the dark hours. Only a few, gusting breezes here and there remained along with a thick layer of new snow forming a puffy, white coating as if the forest were made of clouds.

Stifling a yawn, Maple got up from her chair, back stiff from sitting for so long, and moved to collect her cloak and thick fur hat. Snagging a shovel, she pushed open the door, having to bang it a few times with her shoulder to dislodge the coating of ice and snow on the other side.

The air was far more bitter than Maple had expected when she closed the door with a single kick. Her breaths came in thick puffs as she began to shovel the drifts between the cabin and woodshed. After only a few minutes work she began to shake as the chill began to seep through her coat and into her bones.

“You should go inside.” Wynn’s voice, spoken from just behind her, made Maple jump with a sharp yelp. Spinning around, Maple found Wynn staring up at the northern sky, peering between the heavy grey clouds lingering in the storm’s wake. “I’m sorry, but I’ve brought trouble to you.”

A dread far colder than the winter winds gripped Maple and she twisted around to stare along the same course as her guest. At first she could see nothing. Hardly a surprise, as the eyes of a pegasus were far superior to either earth ponies or unicorns. After a few moments though she could make out a cluster of dark dots within the leading edge of a wispy zephyr.

Only one thing moved in such a way, riding the winds like dolphins in the bow wave of a ship; Windigoes.

“I will buy you time,” Wynn said, stretching out her broad wings.

It was only then Maple noticed just how much larger the pegasus’ wing were than normal. Large enough to almost mistake her for one of the alicorns. A thin line of blue magic curled around the tips of Wynn’s feathers and from the air at her side appeared a sword of such stunning quality that few could ever equal it’s might.

Without another word, Wynn took to the sky with sword flying along at her side and raced to meet the oncoming demons.

Alone, there was no way Wynn could stand against so many windigoes.

“Jewel!” Maple screeched at the top of her longs, dashing into the cabin and pulling out the filly’s cloak and boots.

“What is it mamma?” Jewel asked, her bleary eyes peaking out over the edge of her bed.

“We have to go. Now.”

“But…”

“Now!” Maple shouted, reaching up to drag her daughter out from her bed.

For a few seconds Maple considered grabbing what food they had hidden away. They were precious moments that she should not have wasted. By the time she’d tossed open the hidden cellar door and pulled out the satchel holding their meagre reserves a low howl could be discerned in the distance.

All the while, Algol stared at the pair, and grinned. A low, wheezing laugh broke from the bound mare as Maple tossed Jewel onto her back and made to gallop from the cabin. She’d barely gone a half dozen strides before there was a tremendous bang and the roof of the cabin burst inwards. Maple was sent sprawling, Jewel flung high through the air with a long shriek that ended in a puff of snow as she landed in one of drifts.

Head ringing, Maple pulled herself towards Jewel.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Wynn overhead battling a dozen windigoes. The pegasus darted and spun, striking out with crushing kicks or deadly slices of her wings. All the while her sword spun faster and faster around her. In the space of a moment three of the windigoes fell, crashing into the forest with heavy thumps that sent up large plumes of snow.

Within moments, the three windigoes struck down threw themselves back at Wynn. Dreadful frost burst from their mouths, and it was all Wynn could do to dodge around the blasts. She struck another on the chin with a crushing uppercut, sending it spinning off into a cloud.

White flames shrouding her blade, Wynn twisted beneath another windigo and thrust. A long, wet nicker lodged itself in the demon’s throat, along with the sword piercing its breast. Fire burst the windigo’s eyes, the demons skin sloughing off like the skin of an overripe peach to splatter onto the ground next to the cabin door.

A twist of the sword sent the demon’s head spiralling off into the distance while its body continued to fall into mush.

The remaining windigoes roared and bared their fangs, eyes glowing with cold light. But they did not charge, but instead glanced upwards to something overhead.

A grin that had begun to form on Wynn’s face wilted as she followed the demons’ gaze.

“Oh, Tartarus,” she said before being struck by a heavy blow Maple could not see.

Wynn hit the ground not far from Maple, bouncing twice before flipping over the earth pony and coming to a rest on her back with wings splayed out.

Reaching Jewel, Maple wrapped her daughter in her hooves and prayed.

She prayed to all the goddesses, as she had done since she was but a filly. Faust, Celestia, Luna, and even Iridia; any who might hear her and take mercy.

The last one was only through old habits.

“Pray to me all you wish, little pony, it will avail you naught.”

Spoken with such loathing, the words struck Maple like a physical blow.

Slowly, she and Jewel looked up. Above the windigoes, with Sol at her back, hovered the tyrant. Each stroke of her pristine white wings sent shafts of blinding light into Maple eyes, stinging them and forcing her to look away. Or perhaps it was the horrible dread that clamped onto her heart like the jaws of a wolf, and the hope that if she could not see the crowned alicorn slowly descending towards the open area in front of the cabin’s remains, then maybe it would all turn out to be a terrible dream.

Armoured hooves clicked down just beyond Maple eliciting a little squeak from Jewel in her hooves.

“Hush, everything will be alright,” Maple lied.

No pony had laid eyes on the White Tyrant and lived to tell the tale. Not since she’d cast aside the mantle of the Springbringer.

Trembling, Maple tried to sink deeper into the snowbank. Maybe, if they stayed quiet and small enough, they’d be forgotten.

A groggy groan from Wynn preceded her rolling back to her hooves. “That was a cheap-shot, Iridia.” Wynn shook her head violently, then settled on staring at the tyrant.

“Love and war, and all that,” the tyrant hummed in response, stepping over the puddled remains of the slain windigo. “You did just destroy one of my servants.”

“Ha! As if the windigoes serve you.” Wynn spat some blood off to the side. “There is one they serve, but it is not you.”

Rage flashed behind the tyrant’s blue eyes, her face contorting into a fanged snarl. The knight raised her chin defiantly, and dared the tyrant to strike with a grin. The tyrant’s hoof flashed out quicker than Maple could follow. There was a tremendous bang and Wynn was sent sprawling across the snow. Maple reflexively winced at the sound of snapping bones that assaulted her ears as Wynn came to a stop just before her and Jewel.

“No!” Jewel shrieked. She forced herself from Maple’s trembling grasp and threw herself across Wynn’s back. “Leave her alone!”

“Ponies… You should know to stay out of the affairs of gods and spirits.” The tyrant sneered as she swaggered through the crimson splattered snow.

Rushing to Jewel, Maple tried to pull her back. Maybe there was still time to run. Maybe, if they moved fast enough, they could hide in the forest.

A foolish notion, Maple was aware. She and her little Jewel was about to be swept away. Everypony knew the power of the goddesses, how they could burn entire cities with a flick of their horns.

But the tyrant did not act. She merely stared down at them. Slowly her hoof raised itself until it hovered over Maple like a viper.

“Please, I beg you, spare my Jewel,” Maple clutched her daughter tighter than she ever had before.

The tyrant’s wings extended, feathers splayed into a fan of daggers, and she pulled back her upper lip into a fierce snarl. Rage flashed behind her eyes and Maple knew that this was it. The tyrant’s hoof would fall and strike them all down.

But nothing came.

And then the tyrant released a frustrated howl as she twisted away from the ponies. With a snap of one wing she sent out a burst of fiery wind into the forest behind Maple. Trees were uprooted and sent hurtling into their brethren, flames gnawing along their trunks. Pinecones dormant beneath the snows popped like little fireworks in staccato bursts.

Slowly Maple cracked open an eye to see the tyrant’s chest heaving with slow, ragged breaths, her own eyes wide and wild, snapping like a calving glacier. Deeper crackling growls shook Maple every for moments, followed by low, bassy rumbles. For minutes and minutes it went on, the ground beneath Maple shaking with a deep growling quake emanating from the tyrant. Twice more she flung out her wings, sending more of the forest sprawling and the windigoes scattering up into the clouds.

Never had Maple imagined the like. She was huddled beneath power, raw and angry. Though she had no way of knowing, what she heard and felt was the tyrant’s heart as bitter memories swirled and cracked against those of happier days, the glacial bitterness that encased her heart shearing hundreds of layers.

Ponies as far away as the hamlet of Bolton could hear the noise, the town coming to a halt to stare towards the west and wonder at what new calamity was stirring.

As it had begun the noise faded as the tyrant settled her wings, snorted and reached down, brushing aside the ponies to grab Wynn.

Coughing up blood, Wynn grimaced and yet stared defiantly up at the tyrant. SHe even managed a laugh.

“I never believed you’d fall so far. The kind pony I once watched over would be disgusted to see what she has become,” Wynn growled at the tyrant. “What happened to the filly that travelled from the windswept plains of Halmeria? The same filly who slew the elephant within the Golden Tower? The filly once called a barbarian who became queen and ended the first Age of Ice? What happened to make you so cold?”

“You know what happened!” The tyrant said, the words slow and hissing with frost. “You know, and still you ask? Do you desire destruction? Is that it? Do you long for death, because I can give it to you.”

“I desire an end to this madness.” Wynn tried to point to Jewel and Maple with a broken wing, pain flashing across her face. “Look at them and tell me truly that they deserve your wrath.”

The tyrant did not so much as flick a glance at the ponies.

“Yes,” she snarled, and Wynn’s features twisted in disbelief.

Then blood burst from her mouth as the tyrant drove Wynn’s own sword through her chest and belly.

“Yes,” the tyrant repeated, twisting the blade. “I will see this world freeze.”

Wynn’s hoof scratched along the tyrant’s neck and shoulders, silent pleas on her lips.

“Do not worry, I am not killing you, my old friend.” The tyrant patted Wynn’s cheek as magic began to dance along her horn. “I still have need of you.”

The tyrant’s magic shot down into Wynn, shooting across the dying valla. Wynn contorted and howled, her bones snapping under the magical onslaught. Releasing a last roar, one to spur herself through the agony flaring through every muscle and sinew, Wynn threw open her wings and tore her sword free. Wynn burst into a cloud of sparkling dust as her sword cut a long line down the tyrant’s shoulder before falling into the snow with a puff.

Jewel, peering up through her mother’s legs, let out a shout of her own and jerked back as a spray of the tyrant’s blood, mingling with the stardust, splattered across her muzzle and into her eyes.

The remaining dust that had been Wynn followed the sword, three drops of the tyrant’s blood falling through the little cloud before it was sucked into the blade. Runes glowed along the sword’s fuller, the hilt twisting and reforming itself into the wings of two pegasi, and upon the pommel a diamond of startling blue the same colour as Wynn’s eyes.

Retrieving the sword, the tyrant ignored her own, silver blood running down her leg, the wound a mere trifle to her and turned away from the huddling ponies.

She said nothing more, and Maple had to wonder if perhaps in the excitement the tyrant had forgotten they were even there.

In a blast of snow and wind, the tyrant took to the air alongside Algol. They vanished with a spell along with the windigoes, and at last Maple allowed herself to breath with relief.

“Jewel, are you alright?” Maple released her crushing grip just enough so that she could inspect her daughter.

At once Maple’s breath caught on her throat, for Jewel’s eyes were filled with stars, their light spilling out like a thousand distant lamps. Jewel slowly shook her head, and the stars began to fade until her eyes regained their normal grey lustre.

“I could see it mamma. The disc. I could see it like the stars do. So white and cold and they are so sad because they don’t know what to do.”

Holding Jewel close again, pressing her daughter’s face tight to her neck, Maple said, “Enough of that. They are gone, and you are safe. That’s all that matters to me.”

It took some time more before she allowed herself to let go of Jewel and inspect the ruins of their cabin. When they did, Maple noticed something strange.

Where Wynn’s sword had fallen were three budding flowers. As she watched they grew and blossomed. Their petals were red as the blood that had been spilled, with cores that sparkled after sunset as if they were mirrors to the night.

The next morning all the snows were gone from the area around the flowers. A few days after that, and all the snow was gone for a mile in any direction. More, generic, flowers bloomed in the following weeks, and birds sang in the branches. Maple couldn’t help but stare in wonder at the private, little spring that settled on her home.

To Maple’s wonder and amazement, her tools had been spared from the destruction of her home, and with the warmth the settled on the area like an oasis in the wintery landscape, she set about rebuilding. Before work could begin, Jewel insisted that the three Sparkle Blossoms, as she took to calling them, be moved somewhere safe.

While she worked, Jewel tended to her special, little flowers. Magic infused their petals and stems, allowing them to relieve pain, and even heal wounds when properly prepared.

A month after the valla had shown up on their doorstep, six more ponies arrived.

Maple was that morning working on the new roof, hammer in mouth as she banged a beam into place. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion at the ponies. Never had she seen such a group before, two each of the tribes comprising their number. They wore the greatest of finery, and the simplest of travel cloaks. They had elaborate armour and weapons, and plain padded tunics with simple cudgels or slings.

They were the Elements of Harmony.

The group looked in amazement at the wealth of lush, fresh life that filled the area. An earth pony, Smart Cookie, leaned over to the leader of their group and whispered something. Nodding to her companion, the leader stepped forward and out of the shade cast by the few remaining trees left standing.

When she did, Maple was able to see that the pony, a unicorn, was blind. Milky eyes stared up at her that left an unease in Maple’s back.

“Fair greetings and what a wonderful day, to you,” the blind unicorn bowed her head a little to Maple. “Might we trouble you for a few minutes?”

Maple bit her lower lip and glanced around. Jewel was on the other side of the cabin tending to her flowers, the faint notes of a hummed song drifting upwards. Wary after her last guests, Maple shook her head, and then realising the absurdity of the action she called down, “Only a few minutes. I’m rather busy,” before dropping to the ground.

Truthfully, a break was welcome. Maple had worked up a lather and Sol’s light was hot within the oasis as it took it’s proper, august nature.

“I’m afraid all I have is water.” Maple indicated the bucket holding the slightly murky water she’d taken from the river that morning.

The ponies thanked her earnestly, and then they sat in the shade.

“It’s been so long, I’d forgotten what this was like,” the blind pony said, face lifted to soak in Sol’s rays. “A good reminder, I think.”

“If you’re here to take my home from me…” Maple’s hoof twitched towards the hammer now hanging from her belt.

One of the armoured ponies, a pegasus in regal furs and a bright red cloak tossed back her head and laughed. “Ha! We’re not bandits and we certainly don’t want to take anything from you, except some information.”

True to their word, the group did not stay long. They asked after Wynn, and when Maple told them what had happened they shook their heads sadly. During the brief telling, Jewel came around the corner of the cabin. Ever curious about strangers she went and sat beside her mother. From there she stared up at the two unicorns.

It was the first time Jewel had ever met another unicorn. While the blind one seemed raggedy and smelled of incense and odd spices, the other one was pretty, with an untouchable aura of grace. Even with her clothes dirty from the road, with some snags where they’d caught on branches or she’d rolled down a hill and a red stain that had to be blood, there was a quality to them that left Jewel dazzled.

The second unicorn smiled down at Jewel when she noticed the filly staring.

“My, what a precious little filly.” Her voice was lyrical and dancing, as was common for the nobility from the old world, but there was more to it. A strength of character that made Jewel glow and puff out her chest at the tiny compliment.

While Maple talked with the other ponies, Jewel spoke with the unicorn at length. She marveled to hear about magic and Princess Luna, it coming out that the unicorn had grown up knowing the princess.

When at last the other’s had learned all they could from Maple, the called to their friend that they were leaving. “Come on, Platinum, we have a lot of road to cover,” the armoured pegasus shouted from half-way down the path.

“Thy mother must be most proud of thee.” Platinum ignored her friend and smiled at Jewel. “Thy curiosity and temperament do great credit to her, Jewel.”

Jewel smiled her biggest smile since the terrible day a month earlier. Plantinum had taken a few steps to join her friends when Jewel called for her to wait. Darting to her garden for a moment, Jewel came back carrying a small vial with a sparkling red liquid held within, a cork stopper plugging the top so it would not spill.

“If you ever get hurt, take this.” Jewel held up the vial. “I made it with the special flowers that appeared after the star got hurt. It’ll make you feel better and not hurt.”

Holding the vial up so she could peer at it with Sol’s light, Platinum gave out a delighted gasp. “I thank thee most kindly, dear Jewel. Tis has a most wonderful sparkle about it.” Dawning realization flashed through Platinum’s eyes, and Maple had to wonder what would come next. She was surprised when Platinum called to her friends to come back. “I require your assistance, Clover,” she said to her blind friend while she pulled out a scroll from her bags, along with ink, quill, and red wax.

She wrote several lines across the parchment, read it over twice, and satisfied with the results dashed off her signature, rolled the parchment up, and then sealed it with her signet. Platinum then gave it to Maple with the greatest of care while Jewel looked on in bemusement. Maple’s heart skipped a beat when she turned the scroll over and saw the crest used to seal the wax. Her eyes flashed up to the beaming Platinum, and then back to the scroll, a long frown clouding her features.

“Your Majesty, I can not accept this…”

“Tis not for thee to deny,” Platinum shook her head. “Tis for thee to protect until thy daughter comes of age and finds her mark. It names her as Lady Sparkle of my court, the first of her line and founder of her House. Should any try to steal these charming lands, go south to New Trottingham. There I have established my demesne, overseen by my sister while I am away dealing with the White Tyrant. She will give thee all the assistance due thee.”

Maple blinked a few times, unable to process what she was hearing. Platinum was still speaking, but the words had lost all meaning. It took Jewel tugging on her leg to get her thoughts somewhat in order just in time to give a stiff little bow to the unicorn queen as she departed with her friends.

Though it took them years to learn of it, the potion Jewel gave Platinum that day saved the life of Smart Cookie, and by extension, helped usher an end to the Long Winter and the downfall of the tyrant.

On that bright, warm day, surrounded by birdsong and fresh growing grass, Maple couldn’t dream the heights her descendants would reach. That they would become the closest of confidants to Princess Luna, and temper the Nightmare’s ruthless impulses. That they would pull themselves from the edge of near destruction following the scouring of their home, and, eventually, on the exact spot where Maple and Jewel’s small cabin had once stood, there would be a large, sprawling manor surrounded by fields and fields of the magical flowers.

It would have seemed too impossible if she’d been told.

No, Maple merely shook her head and put the scroll in a safe place, and went back to fixing the roof while Jewel Sparkle, first of her line, went to her flowers while humming a little song.

Author's Note

Lets try this again, as the original version got mucked up with the whole posted, unposted while being submitted thing.

Still amazed it went from 5.3k words to just over 7k... I'm not totally sold on the end. About 90% confident in it, I guess? I hope it was enjoyable, at least.

Sol's Rune, Part One

Author's Note

Well, here it is at last. Two months later than I'd originally hoped when I first started work on this story. My intentions had been to present it as a 'gift' for my birthday. That did not happen as it took far more work to hash out the problems with the initial draft. I am far, far happier with the version presented here than with what I'd originally put to the page. I just hope future stories and chapters do not take nearly so long.

For ease of reading I've broken the story into two parts.

Please, leave comments as they really help give me the energy to carry on with the next story, or chapter.

Sol's Rune, Part One

Sol’s Rune, Part One
By Tundara

Sol descended slow that night, the sun petulant and pouting as she was guided past the western edge of the disc. Celestia couldn’t help but shake her incorporeal head at how Sol lingered a few seconds longer just beyond the town of Sun Rest, that most westerly of places clinging to one of the spurs holding the disc like a clasp.

Content that her duty was done for the evening, Celestia began to fall back towards the disc, only to draw to a halt as she sensed the rapid approach of Twilight from the north. She wished she could spend even a few minutes talking with her, but time was something she had in short supply that evening. Still, she managed to spare a little time, enough to placate Twilight with a promise that they’d talk more soon. With a parting little tease involving stalking spirits, she resumed her fall back towards her body.

Normally, that would have meant Canterlot, but for the past few weeks she had been traveling, visiting places across the disc while looking for a way to undo the curse she herself had placed inadvertently upon a certain filly. The newest lead had sent her south, beyond the roaring southern oceans with their driving winds that would smash unwary ships upon floating islands of ice.

Unlike what popular Equestrian belief would say, the southern continent itself was not a white waste of ice and snow. It wasn’t even frozen the entire year, having a normal seasonal shift like anywhere else on the disc, save the ice shelf running along the southern most rim. Rich pine forests covered the land. Fed by the almost continual rains and storms that battered the coast, the land was wild and untamed. Setting hoof on the shore was like traveling fifteen hundred years into the past, to when the migrant unicorn fleet had been lead to Equestria by Clover the Clever.

Celestia regretted not joining the fleet herself. Perhaps she could have provided some protection against the cruel onslaught of the long winter, as she’d done in the east. Luna had needed her, however, and Celestia would not abandon her little sister. So instead she’d carried Luna far from the war and ice ravaged lands of the Old Queendoms to the comparatively blissful domains of the Canternese and Neighponese.

How would things have been different if she’d left Luna in the care of their mortal aunt’s descendants, and returned to help the ponies of the west?

Thoughts for another time.

That sunset found Celestia half a day inland, wandering down a winding trail. The unpredictable winds made flight a choir, and besides, the forest canopy hid all the path’s markers. There was a gentle, supernatural quality to the forest, the air ripe and primal with untaped aether. And yet, an element of danger lingered, a sensation of the woods watching her.

It made Celestia feel a little bit like she was inside the stories her aunt Iridia used to tell. Stories of the early years of Ioka, during the Ancient Era between the time Leviathan swallowed Marelantis and the rise of the daughters of Thuelesia, in a period of high adventure as the disc tried to settle.

So many heroes and villains had filled those old stories, their deeds forging nations and inspiring legends and myths that had stretched across the ages. Now, none were remembered except by the goddesses.

A shift in the wind brought the scent of pine, damp peat, moss, and rotting flesh. The last belonged to the carcass of a brown bear, a young sow. By the look of things, the poor bear had died a week or so earlier, and the lingering traces of magic around the body made the cause was plain; a spirit had felled the bear, and for sport, no less. Beyond the mortal wounds and slow decay, the body was untouched, even other predators giving the area a wide berth despite the free meal.

Few spirits actively hunted, and far fewer also made their homes on the southern shelf. A vetfrir was the most likely culprit. Spirits of frost and winter reminiscent of large wolves, they were supposed to be protectors of the forests and heralds of winter. Long the enemies of the demonic windigoes, few vetfrir remained on the disc, their numbers obliterated during the Age of Ice four and a half thousand years before Celestia was born.

Celestia huffed, her breath puffing out in a fine mist. She eyed the drifting cloud with distrust, her ears swiveling in search for any sound of pursuit. It’d been a half-joke when she’d told Twilight that a spirit was stalking her. Now, her words seemed precognitive.

The rustle of a bush gave her pause, the ethereal strands of her mane prickling. A rabbit jumped from beneath the ferns, the critter stopping to twitch its nose up at her. Not placated by the rabbit’s appearance, Celestia cast her attention to the rain soaked woods around her, especially those behind.

The intensity of the rain grew, as it had every night in this land, masking any other sounds beneath its gentle patter and making it impossible to identify any that might indicate pursuit. If only Selene would rise faster and cast her silvery light down upon the forest. Instead, shadows surrounded her, their shapes long and twisted, rattling in the wind.

Haunted forests were nothing new to her. She’d wandered many in her younger, more adventurous youth. While Luna was in the east learning the ways of their father and mortal ancestors, Celestia had taken an interest in the old places of the disc, the magical fonts that predated all known civilizations, when Ioka was still growing. The shadows and what they hid held no fear over her. Still, there was no sense in being caught off guard.

Concentrating a moment, she conjured a ball of light, a clone of her dear Sol in miniature.

Letting the golden glow settle over her, Celestia continued forward, still alert for any surprises. Her ears swiveled constantly, snapping towards any sound that seemed out of place. A few times, she stopped, certain that she’d caught a hint of paws pounding on brittle frozen ground and heavy, panting breaths, only to lose it in the driving rain.

Stopping in a small clearing where she could look up and see the rising moon, Celestia turned to peer back the way she came. Thick puffs of mist clung close to the hard soil, the rain freezing into stinging sleet.

“Whoever you are, stop this skulking and come out.”

Movement on her left caught the corner of Celestia’s eye. A quick snap of her wings and kick carried her away from swiping claws. Not quite fast enough, the vetfrir caught her, a crooked line gouged down her left brow over her eye, cheek, and to the edge of her jaw.

A sharp intake of breath filled her lungs as she was half-blinded by blood and a flap of skin. It had been a long time since Celestia had last been hurt, long enough for her to forget the details. The pain was curious, a fiery sting lancing across her face. Had she the time, she might have taken a few moments to savour the novelty before tending to the wound.

Pressed by the vetfrir, Celestia unleashed a burst of magic that knocked the spirit back and cleared the air. Hail popped into bursts of steam around her, the ground underneath Celestia’s hooves charring as if it’d been host to a campfire.

The vetfrir was quick to pick itself back up, and though it was only a few moments before the spirit lunged at her again, Celestia managed to take note of the vetfrir’s sickly appearance. Green rot and boils marred the spirit’s muzzle. What remained of its once thick white coat, glowing with blue lines of magic, were sparse tufts of dull fur, matted with dirt and waste. Its bare skin hung loose in pox riddled folds.

A blast of foul, rime soaked breath burst through the corrupted spirit’s teeth as it lunged for Celestia’s throat.

Eye locked onto the vetfrir’s sickly yellow orbs, she spun. Celestia’s mane crackled as she called up her magic, it’s normalyl placid tones turning into furious oranges and reds around a white core. Sheathed in her flames, her wing lashed out. A sharp hiss burst through her clenched teeth at the strike, the cold emanating from the vetfrir biting into her wing even as she knocked the spirit aside.

With speed belied by its sickly visage, the vetfrir sprang back to its paws and lunged again. Fiery chains whipped from Celestia’s horn to meet the attack, wrapped themselves around its limbs and throat, and tethered it to the ground. Yanked into a sharp stop, the spirits jaws snapped shut only a few inches from Celestia’s impassive face.

She took a few steps back, well aware that the chains would not hold her opponent long.

“What is wrong with you? Perhaps I can aid you.”

The chains sizzled, cooking the flesh where they bound the vetfrir. There was no intelligence within those eyes, nothing but hunger and hate twisted into a knot by some terrible spell that crawled just beneath the skin. A curse, from the lingering sulphurous taint that clung to the spirit, and a powerful one at that, to so completely overpower the spirit’s will.

Determined to help the maddened thing, Celestia asked, “What did this to you?”

Spittle flew from the vetfrir, splattering against Celestia’s golden shoes. It howled and clawed, straining as the chains cut deeper into its hide. Celestia pitied the poor, mad spirit. Cracks began to worm their way through the chains, the vetfrir’s frost working into the conjured metal and snuffing out the flames.

“Please, let me help you. There must be a way to save you.”

Celestia’s offer only drove the spirit to thrash harder. She winced. Her mind raced to find an answer that did not end with her destroying the spirit. There had to be some way to save it.

It could have been under the curse for decades, or even centuries. A primordial, feral light was all that remained in eyes that once would have shone with cunning and wisdom. The look reminded Celestia of the one Nightmare Moon had carried as they’d stared each other down during their final battle.

If only the Elements were not once again dormant, and she was still able to harness their powers. They could heal the spirit.

But then Celestia would not have left Equestria at all.

Only one other available answer presented itself, though it was not without risks.

Unless she killed the spirit.

The idea twisted her stomach into knots.

She was no stranger to killing. She’d led armies, fought hundreds of campaigns in dozens of wars… and worse. The annihilation of an entire society still weighed heavily on her heart, even though it had been an accident seventeen centuries in the past. No, ending the lives of others was something she knew well.

Decided, Celestia released the vetfrir. The spirit lurched, stumbling and unprepared for its sudden freedom. The confusion passed quickly, and it lunged, howling, at Celestia.

“I will save you,” Celestia promised softly as she called up her flames.

This time it met a wind of pure, divine fire rolling in waves down the sides of Celestia’s neck before being cupped by her outstretched wings, and launched into the spirit’s path. Buffeted by the bellowing sheets, the vetfrir was sent sliding back, paws clawing furrows in the loose earth. For some hundred yards behind it, the trees were consumed, pine cones popping like firecrackers and branches blazing like oil soaked torches.

But not the vetfrir itself. Her flames did not burn the spirit. Celestia had no intention of doing so. Instead, she extended her essence through her flames, using them as a shield and hooves to run across the spirit’s body. Maintaining such a precise balance of effects was not a common practice for her, made all the more difficult by going through a pure extension of herself. There was no other way, no spell capable of giving her the feedback necessary to accomplish the task existed.

Coiled as it was about the spirit’s core, Celestia had no trouble locating the affliction, the curse. Scars ran deep, a winding, rending nexus of lacerations leading to the heart. She followed them into a storm, a place of ravaged shores and a distant mewling plea. Hesitant, fearing to burn the spirit, she searched for the curse. A short gasp leapt from her throat as a wall of deep, crackling hatred sprang up between her bright fire and the spirit’s deep rime.

Her own magic held back with the greatest of precision, Celestia prodded at the wall. A blind assault with all her strength would have utterly crushed it, snuffing it out in a golden roar. For the vetfrir, such a cure could well become a pyre. If she failed to regain control, struck too hard or pierced too deep, the spirit would find no salvation in her flames.

The curse snapped at Celestia’s touch like a feral hound and bit deeper into its host. She applied a little more pressure, just the faintest increase from her perspective, but to the spirit it was the difference between the imperceptible warmth of a candle and the billowing shroud of a bonfire. Closing her eyes so she didn’t have to see the burning forest, Celestia pulled tenderly at the first strand of cursed aether entwining the spirit. It was like trying to separate two discordant songs by using a third.

A pained yelp made her retreat a precious moment and freed the curse to dig itself deeper into its host. Grinding her teeth, Celestia renewed her efforts to free the spirit, but for every strand she managed to pull away two others would entwine themselves through the spirit’s pulsing core. The beats began to dim and the mewls quieted until Celestia feared she’d killed the spirit by mistake.

She did not know what to do, how to unbind the curse. Victory seemed hopeless. A last, desperate attempt was all that remained, and yet, she hesitated.

There was a flash, a bang, and then the vetfrir was gone, all the spirit’s magic exploding into tumbling motes of aether.

She let her wings fall and released a saddened sigh as her flames died, leaving only a thin cloud of smoke and the scent of charred wood. The ground in front of her was hot to the touch, the closest stones glowing a fierce yellow. Where the vetfrir had stood, there remained only a shadow, seared into the stone at its final moment before death.

Another she’d failed.

The soft sound of scuffing paws accompanied by a bitter chill brought Celestia from her thoughts. Out of the undamaged treeline more vetfrir emerged, dozens and dozens, until she was certain that every member of the southern pack surrounded her. They carried no blame in their eyes, just resignation mingled with grief.

Silent, she wished she could at least shed a tear for the spirit. Her guilt sat heavy in her throat, lodged among all her other failures.

They sat there for some time, Celestia and the pack, until the wolves began to move off one by one.

A twinge of pain reminded Celestia of the cut she’d received. Summoning a mirror she set about tending to her wound.

The gash, though long and ugly looking, was minor. A few days—perhaps less—and it would be as though she’d never been hurt. With a simple cantrip, she cauterized the cut and was ready to continue onwards. She hesitated though, her gaze drawn back to the burnt patch of ground.

Eventually she left clearing and continued along the path.

Occasionally, through the boughs, Celestia would catch sight of Selene, the moon’s silver light illuminating her way. Accompanied by the gentle patter of the rain, it allowed Celestia to think of something less worrisome than the troubles that had forced her journey, or those she’d encountered already that eve.

She wondered how Luna and Iridia were getting along. The pair had been close in the old days, many hundreds of years ago, and it was Luna who’d taken their aunt’s fall hardest. Maybe they were patching their frayed friendship. Or maybe they were avoiding each other. Celestia wasn’t certain which was the better outcome.

Regret bubbled at having to leave the two alone in Canterlot without more than a quick ‘good-bye’.

In truth, Celestia had thought that her trip to Sparkle Manor would be brief. Though it was indeed a mere touch-and-go visit, instead of returning home, she’d ended up traipsing across the disc. A cure for the curse she’d cast—Celestia no longer could think of the so-called Fostering Spell as anything else—had lead her to several hidden places and wise-ponies. It had been her stop in Phoenicia that had directed Celestia to the south, and hopefully the solution to her problems were only a few hours away.

Her thoughts shifted, as thoughts are known to do, and danced around many nothings. Sometimes focusing on the cool breeze, other times nit-picking her handling of the vetfrir.

She was certain that saving the spirit should have been easy.

Lost in her thoughts, Celestia didn’t notice her descent into a little, misty dell next to a babbling brook. Nor did she smell the faint traces of fried cabbage and vinegar lingering in the air. The dim flicker of lights through a window also went unseen. The pony skull hanging from a branch, however, Celestia detected at once. This was, admittedly, due in no small part by her walking straight into it.

Stifling a gasp, Celestia beat a hasty few steps back, her wings spread for another fight and eyes darting in the dark for signs of any threat.

No monsters or boogiemares came rushing out of the underbrush, and after a few moments, Celestia began to relax. She nearly started to laugh at her carelessness, but her humour faded as she laid eyes on a hut not ten paces away.

A quaint and homely affair, the hut sat in the shade cast by elder pines, a thick stream of smoke puffing up from the crooked old chimney into the boughs of the trees beneath which it was built. Light filtered out of the windows, golden and welcoming in sharp contrast to the skull totems hanging from the branches or staked along the winding path. The roof was shabby and patched, branches tossed over thin areas in the thatching.

From within the hut came singing, the words muffled together, but the bouncy, almost jaunty melody untouched.

Celestia pinched her brow together, ignoring the flash of pain down her left side the act caused. A moment later she crinkled her nose at the smell coming from the hut. A mixture of toad slime, fermenting berries, and fennel overpowering those of the cabbage and vinegar, it stung the senses and made Celestia’s eyes water.

Behind the more commonplace smells there was another. A scent of old, dark magic lingered in the dell, clutching to the trees and rocks from which it growled at Celestia’s intrusion like a mangy hound. It was not a scent that Celestia could easily forget, and it explained much.

“A hag,” she said to herself, eying the hut with even greater distrust.

She kept her wings half open as she approached the hut, a spell at the ready if the hag proved hostile, as was almost certain to be the case given every past experience Celestia had with one of the wretched crones.

With great care in case there were wards or traps on the door, Celestia placed an ear to the old wood. From the other side came the oddest sound: that of a fife, drums, and dancing, followed by a bouncy, youthful song no hag would have ever been caught singing, heavy with a lisp and high pitched squeak.

“Dance, dance, drink and dance! There be more, me hearties, so drink and dance! The sun and moon know the tune. They sung a’ ocean blue, until she blushed waves a’ o’ange hue! Dance, me hearties, dance! It what we do! Ha-ha-ha! Ah-ah-ah! Ha-ha-HA!”

A trick.

The singing had to be a trick.

Hags were notorious for their tricks and traps. The young filly’s voice bouncing through the wood had to be a trap of some sort.

Taking a deep breath, Celestia brought her magic closer to the ready, a series of evocations set to fire, and opened the door with a forceful push.

The hut’s inhabitant froze mid bound, perched on a single hoof with fife and drums floating in a silver-blue aura to either side.

A willowy creature, at a distance the singer would have been easy to mistake for a common earth pony filly on the cusp of uncovering her cutie mark. Her scraggly mane hanging almost to her hooves in twisted beads beneath an oversized, indigo spotted mushroom cap, combined with rough, milky skin gave her magical nature away. Perched behind a tattered ear was a lotus blossom, black as her eyes. Cracked and chipped hooves were raised up on either side of her head, as if she were frozen in the process of casting a spell. A satchel hung about her neck, still bobbing from her interrupted dance. Gardening implements jutted from the pockets and something green dripped from one corner.

Her wide, surprised eyes met Celestia’s, and with a shriek she fell backwards over an inopportune stool with a tremendous thump, sending the instruments and mushroom hat bouncing.

“Owie…” she moaned, head popping up and rolling as she attempted to regain her bearings.

“You’re a dryath,” Celestia stated with surprise, lowering the magic dancing along her horn.

“What’cha dwath?” the singer asked as she scooted towards the wall, eyes darting to the windows briefly before returning to Celestia. “An’ who you?”

Introducing herself sans any titles, Celestia took a seat in the corner nearest the door, in case the dryath made to escape. The action seemed to placate the skittish creature a little. She left the wall and edged a little closer, eyes wide with curiosity, but a pinched frown on her muzzle.

“A dryath,” Celestia explained, falling naturally into her patient, lecturing tone, “is a type of dryad.”

“Oh.” The dryath scratched her chin, causing loose bark to flake off. “What’cha dwad?”

“They are caretakers of the forests.” Putting on a smile, Celestia indicated the two room hut. “Do you live here alone?”

Following Celestia’s hoof, the dryath shook her head sharply and laughed. “Alone? Nah, papa keeps me company.”

Celestia nodded and relaxed a little herself. For a moment, she’d started to worry that the young dryath, still a sapling no more than twenty or thirty years of age, if she were to guess, was a prisoner of the hag. Where the hag was hiding puzzled Celestia, as did how much weaker the smell of the crones magic was inside the hut as compared to in the dell.

Still wearing her trusty smile, Celestia asked, “What is your name?”

“Name?” The dryath looked confused a few moments as she pulled herself up and flipped her mushroom hat back onto her head. “Oh, I know this! Um… What was it? Papa calls me it all the time. I’ll be singing my songs, and what will he shout?” Up came her hoof to rub her chin some more, eyes pinched with intense thought. “Spotty Menace, that’s it! But you call me Spotty.” Spotty grinned wide as she flopped down onto an old armchair, a large cloud of dust bursting from the worn fabric. “So, what’cha doin’, Salty, in my woods?”

“I came looking for help. I need to find something.”

Spotty’s face brightened at once. She pushed her mushroom hat forward, a smile frightening in its intensity growing across her muzzle. “Findin’ stuff? Gwan is great at findin’ lost things! So, what are you missin’?”

“That I don’t know,” Celestia folded her hooves and gave her wings a little shrug. “I was told I could find something to help me correct a terrible mistake somewhere around here.”

“You don’t even know what you need to find?” Spotty blinked and snickered. “Well, don’t you worry, Salty, Spotty has all sorts of ways to find what you don’t know you lost.”

A leap carried Spotty from her armchair and over a table overflowing with dirty plates and bowls. She landed next to an equally cluttered bookshelf. From the top row Spotty pulled a black tome. The large, thick book oozed darkness like an untended wound would puss. It’s presence made Celestia’s mane prickle.

“Where did you get this?”

“Belong to Gwan. Now belong to me,” Spotty said as if it were as obvious as the mushroom on her head. “Is filled with neat stuff! Spells of all sorts. Just last week a mean ice wolf attacked me when I was getting more toadstools. But I knew what to do! I put a curse on the mean wolf that turned him into a frog so he’d have to leave me alone.” Spotty puffed out her chest and her grin was so proud. There was no hint of malice in her words, though Celestia admitted such feelings would have been hard to detect through the filly’s lisp.

“The curse didn’t last long though. I had just enough time to get my toadstools before he stopped being a frog. I’m not very good at those spells.” Spotty’s ears drooped underneath her hat and she plopped her chin down onto the edge of the table with a loud sigh.

Celestia hummed as she took the spell-book and flipped it around so she could read the pages. She was not surprised to find them filled with Dark magic, the kind that should have been extinct on the disc. The hag must have been a survivor of the Age of Chaos. A very old and powerful hag then.

“What happened to your gran?” Celestia asked as she flipped through the book’s pages.

“Papa killed her.” Much like everything else she’d said, Spotty’s answer was simple and matter of fact. The dryath sapling rested her head on hooves, watching Celestia with unabated curiosity. “Gwan wasn’t very nice, and she was trying to do something bad. Papa came looking for a place to plant my acorn. He said he couldn’t let Gwan do the bad thing, so they fought. But he died too. And then Spotty was born!”

“Your papa is… dead?” Celestia paused in her reading, checking to make certain Spotty wasn’t trying to play games with her.

The dryath was entirely earnest in her response, eyes bright as she nodded. “He didn’t go to the river like other ghosts and stayed with Spotty. He’s over there, grumbling about you being in his chair.”

Spotty jabbed a hoof to a corner between the bookcase and an empty cauldron.

Celestia didn’t need to glance in the direction to know she would see nothing. “He still hasn’t crossed the river?”

“Nope. I keep telling him I’m fine. I have the rabbits and foxes to play with, and all Gwan’s books to read, and my music, but he says that El’s’um can wait until I’m a bit older.”

“That’s very selfless of him. I can see why the archons will let him into Elysium,” Celestia returned her focus to the tome. Poking her nose into the affairs of ghosts was beyond fruitless. Even with all her powers, ghosts existed beyond her sight. Only Luna was able to see the dead, and perhaps Twilight, now that she was Awakened.

“He needs to go. If he stays much longer he’ll become a poltergeist, wraith, or jibberjack,” Spotty said, more to the empty corner than Celestia.

For her part, Celestia gave a little nod and hum in agreement.

After a few more minutes of looking through the book Celestia came to the conclusion that it could not help her. Everything within was decidedly evil, spells that stole lifeforce, beauty, or strength filling pages alongside those that simply tore such things away. Others twisted the recipient into beasts that would attack their loved ones without discretion. Slamming the corrupt tome shut Celestia concluded that it could not remain in the young dryath’s possession.

“Mind if I borrow this book for a while? It's fascinating.” The lie tasted bitter on her lips, and yet it rolled off with such practiced ease.

Spotty just shrugged and gestured with an airy hoof to the shelves. “Sure. I have copies and others to use. Gwan was afraid of ponies trying to steal her books and hid them everywhere. Sometimes I make a game of finding any new hidey spots.”

Heart sinking a little, Celestia patted the evil thing a few times before pushing it aside. The tome was not her goal, and checking in on Spotty from time to time would have to suffice that the knowledge was not abused.

“I’m sorry to ask so many questions, but do you have anything else to find things? Say something that isn’t lost, but has yet to be found? Something inside you, perhaps?”

Spotty blinked a couple times as she watched Celestia, a look of complete befuddlement on her face. Her eyebrows drew into a straight line, chin jutted forward, and a long humm rattled in Spotty’s throat. She tilted her head to one side, mouth open to speak, but reconsidered and tilted it the other while a sort of purr puffed out her cheeks. Celestia could almost hear the ding like an oven timer going off when Spotty’s face brightened with an idea.

“Like the pond?” Spotty jabbed her hoof over a shoulder towards the back of the hut. “When I drink from it I see things. Papa says that I shouldn’t do that anymore, that magic like that is no toy.”

“Pond?”

“Yeah! It sits next to my tree where papa died.” Spotty jumped up and began to trot towards the door, legs swinging in a rolling sideways motion. The lotus blossoms poking out from underneath her hat glowed with a gentle, dark blue magic, lifting up the fife and drums. “Follow Spotty!”

The same jaunty tune from when Celestia arrived began to play as Spotty leapt out the door, the dryath filly hopping from stone-to-stone as she sang.

“Dance, dance, drink and dance. This is the Spotty song. Come. Drink. Dance, dance, dance! Ha-ha-ha-ha! Ah-ah-ha-HA!”

“That doesn’t even follow the tune, you know,” Celestia commented with a pleasant smile.

“That’s what makes it fun!” Spotty laughed gaily, her joy infectious, hopping along the path and continuing to insert ad-hoc lyrics to her tune.

Surrounded by a cloud of pure, innocent happiness, Celestia followed Spotty on a very short trek to the grove. A dozen dead willows and one live, tiny, white willow sat around a little dimple filled with silvery water. Selene was so large within the mirror surface of the pond. Celestia could feel its waves of aether tingling across her coat or setting her feathers on edge.

Walking around the pond, Celestia inspected both it and the willows. The dead trees belonged to the original dryads that had called the grove home. Each had been old and strong when it perished, the life snuffed from root and leaf when the dryad bound to the willow died. Infused with magic from their dryad and the pond, rot would never touch any of the trees.

Only one was still alive, the white willow sapling, perhaps no more than twenty or thirty years of age. As the soul-tree of a dryad, or dryath as the case may be, it was tiny in comparison to a normal tree of the same age. It could take a century or more before a dryad and her tree reached maturity.

Celestia glanced back at Spotty, sitting alone on a moss covered rock that jutted out over the pond, happily singing to herself as her instruments floated about her like she were the disc and they the sun and moon. Spotty was trapped. Her tree too old and attuned to the unique magic of the grove to transplant and she unable to leave the forest within which it grew. A sharp pang of sympathy struck Celestia.

At least she had her sister, niece, and now a cousin and aunt for company. Spotty had no-pony. And yet, for what should have been crushing loneliness, Spotty seemed perfectly happy.

Her song, such as the amalgam of randomly shouted words could be considered singing, ended with an abrupt double bang of her drums and a last, hearty, “Ha-ha-ha ah-ah-ah ha-HA!”

“You are going to need more than a drink, Salty.” Spotty fixed Celestia with a deep stare, the laughter replaced in her eyes with a serious light. “The fire of the sun would burn it away quicker than a rabbit that saw a fox.”

“I know,” Celestia extending a wing to touch Spotty on the withers as she stepped past the filly and into the pond.

Sol's Rune, Part Two

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Four Candles

Author's Note

Yesterday my maternal grandmother passed away.

I was living with her, helping to take care of her, when I started watching My Little Pony and began writing again after several years sitting on my hands, too afraid to write anything. She didn't understand my fascination with pastel ponies, but she did enjoy when I'd tell her my ideas for my first serial story, and then Tiger Bloom. She even got me a Rainbow Dash tree ornament last year, as well as a Twilight Sparkle plushie; because she was awesome like that.

I wrote this last night and today trying to just work out my own feelings on the matter. There really is nothing more than that here. Much of it is me talking to myself. Where this story fits in relation to the others I don't know.

Four Candles

By Tundara

Winter had reached its height in Ponyville. Just the day before, the last snows had been brought in by teams of pegasi, leaving the hills a sparkling white. Crystal frost clung to the branches of the apple trees around Sweet Apple Acres, and from the homestead’s eves. It was pristine and beauty, and it left Applejack feeling empty inside.

Her steps were quiet that morning, as they had been for the last several days since the funeral. It had been a beautiful day, the blue sky at odds with the void in her heart. In remembrance, or perhaps pity, Celestia had graced all of Equestria in unseasonable warmth that threatened to undo all the hard work of the pegasi and usher in an early spring. She’d dimmed Sol’s power as the funeral procession reached the graveyard, the princesses following behind the remaining members of the main Apple family.

Faust herself lead the prayers and gave a sermon. What the queen had said was lost on Applejack. Something about never losing a pony so long as she was held in the heart? Or had it been a few, gentle words on the spinning of a cartwheel? Whatever the queen had said it’d brought tears to Soarin—though that wasn’t all that hard to do.

He was such a tender, good pony, and wore his heart on his wings. It was one of the many things Applejack loved so much about him. Soarin had cried enough for both of them in the past week, his puffy eyes contrasting the hardness of her own.

She’d not been sad as the casket had been lowered into the frozen earth. She’d not been anything.

An ear twitched, the motion carrying down into the corner of an eye, and for a very brief moment there it was; the guilt and grief. Then it was gone, retreating back into the shadows like a timberwolf where it would prowl around the edges, waiting to snap and strike.

Moving to the window, Applejack retrieved a few matches and lit the four candles on the sill.

The first two were for her parents, lost to a freak storm rolling off the Everfree.

Their deaths still stung the deepest, coming as she was still so young, and had thought her parents so invulnerable. Sometimes, Applejack still woke with a cold sweat prickling her coat, once more the filly she’d been, face pressed to the window and wondering why her parents hadn’t come back from the fields.

She snorted louder and paced a few lengths, the timberwolf edger a little into the light.

Closing her eyes, she thought of her husband upstairs. Of their daughters.

Ambrosia was the first to come downstairs, finding her mother staring at the smoldering stubs of wax.

“Mamma, you ain’t been up all night again, have you?” Ambrosia asked on her way into the kitchen. “What would Granny Smith say if she saw you pining like this?”

“Ain’t pining. Ain’t doing anything.” Applejack called into the kitchen.

Coming out of the kitchen with a plate of apple-toast and steaming coffee, Ambrosia gave her mother an ‘Uh-huh’ look. Setting the food on the little table in front of the couch, she jumped up beside Applejack.

“I miss her too, you know.”

“Course you do.”

“What was she like when you were my age?”

“She was the most amazing mare I have ever known.” Applejack shifted on the couch so she pressed up against Ambrosia. “Strong, kind, with a wit that could buck a tree ‘cross the field, and honest. Granny… She taught me so much about what it meant to really be an Apple. I don’t rightly know what it will be like with her gone.”

“Will I forget her?”

Applejack stiffened at the question, spoken so softly, and didn’t know what to say for several minutes. “I don’t think you will. Not if you live a thousand years. She’ll be with you, always, ‘Rosia. We just got to remember to do as she’d have done; laugh and keep the old ways alive. Like how you two made Zap Apple Jam last year. Things like that.”

“It doesn’t seem like she’s gone.” Ambrosia shivered and glanced towards Granny Smith’s old rocking chair. “I keep expecting her to come down the stairs, joints creaking and muttering about how she should move her room to the bottom floor.”

“Me too.”

“Am I a bad pony because I’m not sad?” Rubbing her fetlocks together, Ambrosia dipped her head and looked away. “I keep thinking that she was in so much pain these past few months, and she weren’t in her proper mind, that maybe it is better she is gone. But that can’t be right.”

“Listen, sugarcube, whatever else it may be, it’s good she ain’t hurtin no more.” Applejack’s voice clenched, and for a second the wolf darted into the light. A long, shaky breath sent it skittering away once more, and she was thankful that her voice didn’t hold a quaver when she said, “Granny is with Grandpa now in Elysium.”

“No, she ain’t.” Ambrosia shook off Applejack, tears prickling her brown eyes. “I don’t know how I know that, but it’s true. She ain’t in Elysium. She… She… She’s just gone! Dead and gone and it doesn’t matter.”

Applejack stiffened, and this time it wasn’t sorrow that pounced, but a hard, burning nugget of anger.

“Stop that. I ain’t raised you to say things like that. Granny Smith is on her way to Elysium, and if you have any doubt of that… then…”

“But I do doubt, mamma, and it makes me sick. My insides twist up and I feel bad that I don’t feel bad, or that my heart is saying Granny is just gone. I wake up and everything feels the same, but different. I miss her, but it’s not for her, it’s for me. I don’t even know what I am saying, or feeling!”

Jumping from the couch, Ambrosia began to pace, her cherry red tail snapping at each turn and hooves vibrating with suppressed emotion. Applejack both marvelled and pitied her daughter on how similar they were to each other. She let Ambrosia work things out alone for several minutes, knowing that is what would have been best for her, if their roles were reversed.

The clock on the mantle sticking the hour prompted her to action at last, and she got up to stand beside Ambrosia.

“It’s okay sugarcube, to be confused and upset. This ain’t the kind of thing that a pony understands or processes all at once.”

“But you are fine. I’ve not seen you cry once since Granny died.”

Applejack knew that Ambrosia didn’t mean to cause hurt or pain, but the words still stung bitterly.

“I’m sorry, mamma. That ain’t fair of me.”

“Ain’t a lie though.” Applejack looked beyond the candles out on the snowy fields, not really seeing them or anything else. “But it ain’t ‘cause I don’t care, rather… I said goodbye to her a while ago without really knowing it, I suppose. Back when she started to go down hill, I knew, and so did she. Each time I brought her medicine to her I said it again, until it just sort of… stuck. I’ll miss her, ‘Rosia, but I’ve been missing her for some time now. I…”

The warding glow vanished, the imaginary wolf pounced, and Applejack cried. She pressed her eyes tight so she couldn’t see the surprise on Ambrosia’s face, and let the tears fall. Not just the tears of the past week, but those kept back and buried for months.

Older wounds threatened to reopen in the flood, and she had to clench her teeth tight and press her head harder against Ambrosia to keep the pain manageable. Through watery eyes she dipped her gaze to the four stubs.

For a while they stood like that, neither speaking, until the tears ran their course and the floorboards overhead creaked as the rest of the household began to wake.

Wiping her eyes with a fetlock, Applejack said, “Come on, we best get on. You go help your father with your sisters while I get a proper breakfast started.”

“Okay, mamma.” Ambrosia didn’t move right away though. She just looked at the candles, started to say something, and instead clamped her mouth shut. Taking a few steps towards the stairs, she glanced back, and said, “Thank you, for listening,” before hurrying away.

The Moon on the Sword: Act One (Dark, Gore)

She came from the islands of the west, out of a castle of shattered dreams with hooves stained on a blood soaked beach. A dreadful cold filled her eye and encased her heart in a shield only Celestia could pierce. Battle sang in her veins, and with sword in aura she would descend on the wicked and unjust. She was Luna Invictus—knight, reaver, pirate, princess, and lover—gigantic in her melancholies and her mirth, destined to tread the ambitions of empires and tyrants beneath steel shod hooves.

~The Book of Selene

A wild orange glow permeated the east as the sun fought the guiding magic of the cabal tasked with her governance while in the west her sister, Selene, waited patiently over the distant, unknown lands no pony had yet strode across. Theirs was an ancient dance, one stretching back to a time lost from historians’ parchments in the Dark Era, which all accepted universally as truth on being the most terrible and frightening times for not just ponies, but all the disc.

After her usual griping at the unicorn mages of the Solar Cabal, Sol popped upwards in time to Selene sinking below the distant opposite rim. In so doing night switched to day in a vibrant flash, all the myriad mountains peaks lighting in time, golden rays stretching outwards to caress the sleeping races.

Across Neighpon with its tiered towers, beyond into the wild, twisted places nopony dared venture to visit, and then into those lands once claimed by Thuelesia the new day raced. In the space of a heartbeat it reached the former seat of the fallen empire now home to a number of budding city-states and minor queendoms, of which Roam was the most notable with it’s greedy merchants and long galleys. Then the golden dawn moved onto the island of Coltsica, alighting like a bird on the tip of a waiting tower before continuing ever further to the west in a blaze of oranges and gold that quickly gave way to wonderful blue.

This tower belonged to Dreamsong Castle, that imposing fortification built overlooking the north-easternmost bay of the island from a tall cliff of slate grey stone. Catapults and ballistae sat atop the boxy towers connected by walls of magic shaped pink granite. Behind the strong and formidable bastion stood a squat keep topped with curved copper roofs and little statues of Faust above narrow windows and iron banded doors.

Not far from the gates a lonely old tree stood on a hilltop surrounded by grass and wildflowers. Underneath the castle’s gaze the daughters of the queen gathered to enjoy the beautiful morning. Here they were permitted a sense of freedom away from the stern eyes of their mothers and schoolmaster.

Nestled next to the trunk the younger sisters watched their older half-siblings practice their swordwork under the guidance of the captain of the guard.

Watching with the most interest was the elder of the two; Dirge Lullaby. From a sunken, dull grey face her silvery-blue eyes followed every movement of her elder sisters. Whenever one came close to landing a blow she turned away so as to hide behind her curly darker grey mane with its double white locks bouncing down from beside her horn.

“Today is the day I finally best you, Summerset,” the smaller of the two combatants growled.

Sweat lathering her pudgy, eggshell toned hide, Bellicosa lunged and thrust. She could taste victory on the summer breeze and it made her overconfident. Her opponent, the older and vastly more skilled Summerset, made a purposefully sloppy parry and feint, drawing her sister in closer and closer.

Summerset just laughed, and smiled with her carmine eyes. Her toned muscles moved in smooth elegance beneath her coat, light reddish-pink fur rippling over shoulder and flank as she darted back like a playful cat, her mane of three toned yellows bouncing along as gaily as her laughter.

From where she watched the pair Sir Sydney tutted her tongue loudly. “Keep your sword under control, Bellicosa. Don’t let it range too far, or—”

With a twang-thwap Summerset knocked her sister’s sword up and out of her aura then slapped Bellicosa on the flank. Laughter rose from Dirge, a flurry of clapping accompanying a shout of, “Way to go, Summerset!”

A beet red fury glowing on her cheeks, Bellicosa marched over to the tree and sat down in a huff. Grumbling, Bellicosa ignored both Summerset and Sydney as they tried to coax her to pick her practice sword back up.

Knowing one of her sister’s tantrums when she saw one, Summerset turned to her youngest sister and called, “Why don’t we spar for a while, Luna? It will do you some good to exercise and practice.”

Beside Dirge, the youngest of the sisters had little interest in the practice bouts. She instead had her dark blue nose pressed deep into a book. Luna’s ability to read, a talent mastered almost before she could walk, marked her as special. While hardly unique, her voracious appetite for the written word did draw attention.

That day, as with every day over the past month, Luna read the Book of Names. Ratty and dog-eared, the book was a gift from her mother to keep Luna company. Princess-Consort Jinxy Fantasia wasn’t due to return for some weeks yet from her visit with the Dictator of Roam. Luna looked forward to the reunion with great anticipation.

Not looking up from her book, Luna said, “But I’ve just gotten to the part where Faust and Iridia first encountered the Soulless.”

Bellicosa let out a long, shrill laugh and rolled her eyes. “The Soulless? Ha! Those beasts that come howling from the eastern deserts, raiding and slaving from the edge of pathetic Thul to the Pegasi Plains, and Neighpon beyond the disc’s spine? Nopony who meets the Soulless ever sees their family again. They are chained and yoked, their marks burnt off and replaced with new brands. The Soulless have no pity or remorse, not for even their own kind, and aren’t bound to Faust’s weave.

“That’s why they call them the Soulless, Woona. Because they just die. They don’t journey to Tartarus nor Elysium, and they certainly don’t rejoin the cycle through the Springbringer’s blessing. Nothingness; that’s what they come from, what they spread, and where they go.”

From where she stood practicing with Sydney, Summerset snapped, “Belli, that is enough of that. You’re frightening Luna and Dirge,” hoof pointing to where Dirge huddled in the grass, ears pulled down and eyes screwed shut.

“They should be frightened,” Bellicosa huffed, pacing in front of her sisters. Her eyes flashed with ire and her lips twisted up in a snarl. “Blessed Thuelesia was all that kept the Soulless trapped in the deserts and hills. Every year they venture further and further. Their raids take more Earth Ponies from the Free States’ shores each year, sending them back to work in their cities until they die and are then eaten. Pegasi are shot down with nets, their wings clipped, and kept for purposes even I shudder to contemplate.” She stopped in front of Luna, her eyes growing narrow as she sneered. “But it's what they do to unicorns that is the worst.”

“What do they do to us?” Luna asked, though she didn’t really want to know. Her sister’s grin grew fiercer, making her knees tremble.

“They hunt unicorns for sport and cut off our horns to make—”

“Bellicosa! Enough!” Summerset stamped her hoof and marched up to her sister, her face a livid cherry colour. “What in Faust’s mane is wrong with you? Just because you are a poor hoof with a sword and sore that you lost is no reason to torment our sisters.”

“I’m not upset about that.” Bellicosa snorted, then added, “they need to hear the truth, Summerset. You and mother can’t coddle them from the disc forever,” before marching off.

Coming up to Summerset, Dirge asked, “Is what she said true? About the Soulless? Do they really cut off our horns if they catch us?”

“Of course not,” Summerset gave her little sisters a reassuring smile. “You know how Belli gets. Don’t believe a word she said.” She then leant down, and in a conspiratorial whisper added, “Besides, if they ever came to Coltsica, Sir Sydney and I would chase them away. Isn’t that right, Sydney?”

The captain gave an emphatic nod. “Too true, your Highness.”

Luna and Dirge both smiled and were at ease.

Racing before the dusk with oars stretched out to kiss the sea’s rolling surface a galley of painted golds and crimson swung towards Coltsica’s southern tip. She glided with practiced ease through the warm, blue waters, her scowling prow a sword that cut the waves in half. No whips cracked at the rowers, only the measured tone of a drum to keep them in time, although they hardly required the help.

This was a crew that had many times worked together. Their comfort and understanding of each other complete and well tuned in all aspects of the galley’s operations, whether open sailing or during the heated rush of battle.

A pleased smile broke across the Master’s long face, turning his perpetual grimace into something altogether unpleasant to look upon. His steel grey eyes crinkled in mirth at the trepidation of those nearest. Heart glowing from the smooth voyage, her turned a moment to look to the south where one of the few concerns on his mind lay.

There, just visible through the miasma clinging to the ocean’s top where it created a clinging bank of fog-like horizon, a number of black shapes could be made out. The Master squinted and counted as he had every half hour that day.

At the end of his count he grunted and pushed himself away from the railing. His tread was heavy as he made his way towards the captain’s quarters. To fit through the door he had to duck and angle his head so his horns went through one at a time, lest they strike the frames and leave another gouge in the wood. Stooping his massive seven foot frame in the cabin did little to lower the impression of strength in his muscular form.

“It is as you thought, my lord; the griffons are on the hunt,” the dusky skinned minotaur said without preamble or greeting.

Sitting behind a long desk, helmet at his side, the captain’s brown eyes flashed with keen intellect up to the Master before returning to the charts spread out before him. They had cost a minor fortune to acquire from a slimy little Armetrian merchant, but had proved their worth a hundred fold already.

“Aye, but Roam or Coltsica? Or do they seek to slip between the two and strike further north or west? What do you make of their numbers?”

“Three or four dozen; no more.”

“Not Roam then. Do they seek the same treasure as us?” The captain clicked his tongue and shook his long red hair. “No matter. Griffons do not hold our interest, and where they are headed is inconsequential. We will wait for them to pass, then head to Coltsica. Our plans remain unchanged.”

“And if it is us they hunt?”

Booming laughter broke from the captain, his head tossed back in his mirth. “As unlikely as that is, if we are their goal then they should have brought more ships! We will send them all to Parhemane’s bone filled fortress at the ocean’s bottom, then continue on to collect our bounty. Riches and glory await us, my friend, if the priest’s visions are right. And if they are not, then nevermind, as it is an adventure regardless!”

The Master’s grin broadened once more and he nodded to the captain before leaving to tell the pilot to alter course.

A grin on her face, Luna floated on a downy bed of fluffy dreams. Covers pulled up to her chin by her hoofmaiden, she couldn’t have been more comfortable.

It was into this wonderful, formless bliss the clanging of bells from their towers came, their sharp peels harsh against Luna’s ears. Mind foggy and desiring nothing more than to bury her head underneath her pillows, Luna rolled over and tried to block out the noise.

Still they rang, their notes growing more shrill and frantic by the moment. The shouting of guards came next, torches alight along the battlements. Grumbling, Luna rolled back to glare at the noise. Dirge had already left her bed, nose pressed up against the foggy glass. She turned to say something to Luna, but it was lost the blare of a dozen horns stretching out to encompass the castle and town beyond.

In answer, or perhaps spurred by, came screeches like those of diving eagles

Dirge’s eyes shrank to pinpricks, driven to her hooves by the ferocity evident in the screeching and the panic rising from the courtyard. Shadow raced over the castle, blotting out the moon and stars to the heavy drum of wingbeats.

“What’s going on?” Luna cried, ducking deeper into the false safety of her quilts.

Dreamsong Castle awoke into a chorus of noise and activity through the windows. Lights sprang up beyond the walls, spotting bonfires stocked atop the towers, with the guards rushing yon and hither. Before they could prepare a swarm of griffons appeared out of the gloomy night. In their talons they held bronze tipped spears while simple barding of boiled leather covered legs and body and plain helms sat low on their brow.

Such was the shock and speed of their appearance that the griffons overran the walls at once. Dirge’s scream as a pair of guards were tossed from the walls, the earth ponies hitting the hard earth with jarring finality, brought Luna’s head up. Just as she did two griffons burst through the windows, shards of glass dancing across the room.

Dirge grabbed Luna and pulled her sister away from the intruders. At the same moment the door to the room shared by their hoofmaidens was hurled open. Though they had no weapons besides a small knife each, Dewey and Bassinette launched themselves at the griffons.

Yelling for Dirge and Luna to run, Bassinette broke her blade on the nearest griffon’s helm. She was brought down before she could even register the loss of her weapon, the griffon leaping onto her back, beak and talon sinking into soft, unprotected flesh. Dewey fared only a little better, her knife catching her griffon in the flank before his spear pierced chest and heart.

There was no time for Luna to process what had just occurred before she and Dirge were out of the room, their short legs carrying them as far from the grisly events in their room as they could. Her thoughts spun and whirled, and she wondered if perhaps this was all just a terrible dream.

Throat raw, it took Dirge striking her across the muzzle for Luna to realise she’d been screaming.

“Sister, look at me. Look at me,” Dirge commanded as she grabbed Luna by the face. Some of Basinette’s blood had splattered across her muzzle, leaving reds marks beneath eyes as wide and panicked as Luna’s own. “We have to find mother at once. She’ll know what to do. Quick, quick, before any more griffons find us!”

Pulling Luna along, Dirge headed right for the quarters their mothers shared.

Down the hallways they fled, the battle beyond the windows growing in intensity. The orange flicker of a fire burst from the gatehouse, flames consuming the floors and spewing out into the courtyard. There the few knights Coltsica possessed had rallied the guards, spells and aura-clad swords ringing out. In a futile effort, they laid down their lives to keep the attacking force from the keep.

Within the keep itself a greater fire had started, whether on purpose or by accident didn’t matter. It came racing up from below, consuming the heraldry and paintings, leaping from rafter to rafter and filling the hallways and rooms with thick, cloying smoke.

The acrid fumes made the two fillies cough as they reached their mothers’ chambers and found the doors already torn open. Luna’s heart skipped a beat on seeing the heavy, iron banded oak wrenched apart, twisted and shattered remains embedded into the opposite wall. There a long red stain flowed down the stones and a crushed griffon talon hung limp and broken.

“Mother?” The pair called together, afraid of what they would discover in the room, but unable to do anything else but search.

Dirge craned her head around the corner first, and pulled it back at once, face green from what she saw.

“Do not look, Luna,” she commanded, holding her sister close in order to prevent her from darting past.

“No,” Luna shouted and forced herself free, leaping from between Dirge’s legs to enter the bedroom. “Mother? Mother!”

After only a few strides she came to a sharp stop. Her mothers’ bedchambers were destroyed beyond recollection. The bed they’d shared wrenched apart and scattered. Bedposts had become spears, affixing several griffons to the walls, dead tongues hanging from their beaks. Smashed furniture lay shoved up against the walls, and the scent of spent magic lingered in the air like the smell of rain. Of their mothers there was no sign.

“Mama? Mother? Where are you?” Luna darted left and right, using her hooves to shift some of the debris.

“It’s no good, Luna,” Dirge snapped as she grabbed her sister and pulled her back. “They are gone. Probably to help the knights drive the griffons off.”

“We have to help them, Dirge!” Luna tried to free herself again, only this time Dirge held her tighter. “They could be hurt, trapped, or worse!”

The beating of hooves on stone gave her a moment of hope. Hope that was bolstered at the appearance of Summerset and Bellicosa out of the growing smoke. Both had wrapped cloths soaked in water over their faces and carried bloody swords in their auras. This did little to keep the smoke from stinging their eyes, but allowed them to breath.

“Summerset, we can’t find mother,” Dirge called on seeing her elder sisters.

Hardly a glance was spared for the destroyed room. All Summerset’s attention was on the two fillies, relief flooding her raw eyes at the sight of them alive.

“Belli, grab Dirge, I’ll take Luna.” Summerset’s voice brokered no dissent from her sisters, Bellicosa nodded but once before scooping up Dirge and setting off at a gallop. “Luna, we need to go.”

But Luna refused to leave the door. She ducked beneath Summerset’s reaching hooves, shouting out, “But, what about mama and mother? We must find them!”

“I am sorry Luna, there is not the time to argue.” Summerset grabbed Luna in her magic, her sister letting out a desperate shriek as she was carried away. “The castle is overrun and we must get you to safety. Mother would order it if she were here.”

From the orb of magic she dangled within Luna gave the twisted doors a last, plaintive look before she was brought around a corner and they vanished. She was moved to Summerset’s back so that her sister was free to draw her sword, a sword that was quickly put to use as Bellicosa and Dirge came running back chased by the griffons that had entered Luna’s room and killed the hoofmaidens.

The first griffon Summerset cleaved through the head, her sword lodging itself deep in his skull. With a grunt she tore it free, splattering herself and Luna with the griffon’s brains and gore. Heedless of the danger posed by the mad-eyed princess, the second griffon pounced, intending to tear out Summerset’s throat as he had with the hoofmaiden. Luna screeched, and Summerset took his head in a single swing that broke her blade.

Discarding the useless hilt, Summerset stepped over the dead griffons. “Bellicosa, Dirge; come!” She commanded, and such was her power and the fierceness of her visage they dared not argue.

They made their way towards the great hall, Summerset taking up a discarded sword from one of the castle’s slain defenders. On the stairs their progress came to a halt, the heat of spreading flames driving them back up.

“What do we do?” Dirge cried, clinging tight to Bellicosa.

“The servants stairs,” Summerset responded, making towards the other side of the keep.

Knowing they were too far from the side passage, Luna lept down and shouted, “No, this way. I know a secret way that leads outside behind the portrait of Queen Florenza.”

Outside the battle had reached a crescendo, inside the castle was being gutted by fire. Luna held her breath as they reached the hidden door, and her heart pounded as they went down rather than up as she was accustomed to doing. She prayed that she had not led her sisters into a trap, and that the far door would still open. It did, and the four princesses burst out onto a narrow ridge beneath the palace on the cliffside.

From there, illuminated by the burning castle, they beheld a fleet of ships entering the harbour. The town similarly besieged, flames dancing from rooftop to rooftop as the griffons cut this way and that, grey feathers glowing in the ruddy light as they chased the pegasi. In the distance more fires could be seen coming from the orchards and farms.

“Come on.” Summerset’s voice wrenched Luna from the sight.

Bellicosa lead the way along the edge, her hurried hooves kicking stones over the cliff’s edge. A drop two hundred hooves high awaited them if they slipped. Swallowing her fear, Luna was kept between Summerset and Dirge.

A flash of moonlight on steel was the only warning the four had of the ambush. Bellicosa gasped, staggered back, and turned to face her sisters. She opened her mouth to speak, but only blood came forth, pouring from where a chunk of her throat had been torn loose. Luna’s hooves flashed up to cover her mouth, and to keep her from retching. Eyes rolling into her head, Bellicosa toppled off the cliff. She was dead before hitting the rocks at the bottom.

Overcome by all that had happened, Dirge and Luna both emitted shrill shrieks and ran pell-mell into the darkness. Neither heard Summerset shout for them to stop lest they slip over the edge themselves. Nor did they hear the clatter of steel on steel as their eldest sister defended herself from the descending and victoriously shrieking griffons.

Rounding a corner Luna lost her footing. The narrow path lurched, and the last thing she saw before tumbling towards the cold waters and slick stones was Dirge being chased by a trio of laughing griffons. Her shoulder hit an outcropping, sending her spinning, and the next moment was pain as her head struck a tree growing from the cliff face, and then blissful nothingness.

Cold water lapped at Luna’s hooves, dragging her from the blissful oblivion on which she was suspended, and filling her with new sensations. Damp sand clung to her legs, and a crusty layer of salt left her fur matted in hardened spikes. She shivered, the slight motion enough to bring a sharp stabbing of pain through her head, radiating from horn down to the base of her neck.

The events of the previous night came in disjointed flashes without order or reason. Luna would have dismissed them as a nightmare if she’d awoken anywhere else, but cracking her eyes open showed her the beach south of the castle.

At once she found herself snapping her eyes shut, stung by Sol’s harsh rays. Rubbing at her head, she sat up slowly. Her hoof was sticky when she pulled it away, blood clinging to her fetlocks. Grumbling and squinting with this new pain on top of the aches throughout her body, Luna forced herself to her hooves and up the beach. Every step brought with it fresh reminders of how horrible her previous day had been. Her head pounded, and chills invaded her legs leaving them weak and her wobbly.

Part of her managed to hold out hope that it was merely the bump to her head, that the castle hadn’t been attacked, and Bellicosa wasn’t… Luna doubled over at the memory of her sister’s last moments and began to retch. For several minutes she heaved and gagged, but nothing came up.

She stayed sitting there, unmoving, for hours, numb in body and spirit. Everything she knew was gone. The final image of Dirge running off into the dark sprang up behind closed eyes, driving her breath from her as forcefully as any physical blow. Everypony was dead, and she was alone.

It was a heavy rain that eventually drove her from the beach, her small body shivering violently from emotion and the cold. With no idea where to go, and unable to see more than a few yards in the torrent of thick raindrops, she staggered and stumbled her way up towards the hills. Hooves slipped often in the mud, coating her legs and belly in grime, and once she scuffed her knees deep enough to draw blood.

Bitter winds whipped up the coast, and sent pounding waves onto the beach Luna had been sitting on earlier. Even through the rain she could make out the heavy thumps before a howl made her press her ears flat to her head. Blinding blasts filled her nose and eyes, further hindering her progress.

Part of Luna wanted to simply lay down in the mud. Whether momentum or something else, Luna didn’t give into to the weight now she was moving. There wasn’t any thought behind her actions, even the desire to survive was muted and shallow. She merely moved because she was moving, her steps mechanical and rote while her mind was blank.

A flash of lightning in the deepening storm showed her a hut. Pressing ahead, she forced her way inside, a hard shove with her shoulder necessary to close the door and muffle the cacophony battering the shuttered windows.

No relieved sigh broke from Luna. She had no sooner turned to inspect the hut then wish she’d never found the shelter. Three dead ponies lay on the floor, an overturned table and spilled food laying around their bodies. Gashes in throats and withers showed that the griffons had shown as much mercy on the common earth ponies as those in the castle.

Hunger twisting at her belly, Luna did not sit idle staring at the bodies long. Taking care not to get too close to the dead ponies, she snatched up a piece of stale bread and some cheese from the floor. Greedily she bit into the old food, taking no notice of whether it was stale or not.

Afterwards, Luna took a quilt from the beds in the adjacent room and draped it over the unfortunate ponies.

A few simple toys lay discarded on the floor of the bedroom, the smaller two beds telling Luna that the family had foals. She did not see any other bodies than the adults.

Curling up on the bed, Luna wondered what had happened to the foals. Had the griffons killed them as they had their parents? The thought made her shudder and crawl deeper into the dusty sheets.

Feverish nightmares haunted her dreams all that long night and next day, scraping against her frayed sanity with claws of grief and horror. Bellicosa’s death loomed largest of all, her final moments seared across Luna’s vision so every blink the scene repeated.

She dared not leave the small hut, but as the second day loomed a foul smell began to rise from the bodies. Decay was setting in with the growing summer heat. Stomach churning, Luna knew she’d have to find a new place to stay, or do something about the bodies. A single step towards the side of the hut with the corpses was all she could manage. Anything more and her legs began to tremble and a surge of confused emotion drove her to the corner where, panting as she scraped at her head, she remained in a growing cold sweat.

Movement outside the windows broke her from her panicked state. Somepony—or something—large landed, and given the rattle of armour Luna could not think of it being anything other than a griffon.

Like a rabbit she darted underneath the bed. Her heart beat so heavy against her chest that Luna feared that the griffons could hear each thump. She cringed at the creaking boards outside, and clamped a hoof over her mouth to hold in a gasp.

“This place was checked once already,” one of the griffons spoke, his voice nasal and high pitched. “Why does the captain care so much about a single pony?”

The door was thrust open, a griffon cataphract barging his way inside. His shoulders rolled with a determined swagger, and his eyes cast an angry gleam across the room as he searched. After a quick glance he began to turn away, only to stop as he gazed down on the covered ponies. On the table he saw Luna’s leftover dishes and his eyes narrowed.

He began to move in a wide circle around the hut, peering into the cupboard, then flipping open the small chest in the corner.

“If you come out now, little pony, you won’t be harmed.” The promise was barbed and poisonous. Blood not the griffon’s own stained the colour of his feathers a rusty red.

Luna wanted to shrink deeper into the gloom, but dared not even breath.

The griffon clacked his beak, boards creaking under his tread as he drew closer to her hiding place. Luna whimpered as his shadow fell over the edge of the bed.

From outside came an odd noise, drawing the griffon away.

“Tibalt? You find something?” The griffon called out to his hidden companions, and received a gruff affirmative grunt in response.

Thumping towards the door, the griffon grew irritated, and snarled, “What was that? Enunciate, you—” The rest of his words ended as he reached the door and looked out.

Through the bright slit of light emerged a gore covered sword. So swift was the stroke the griffon had no time to react before his head was taken from his neck. Even with her mouth covered Luna failed to hold in a scream as the head landed in front of her hiding place, the body falling into a twitching heap.

Over the mass of feathers and spurting blood stepped not a pony, but a minotaur that had to stoop to enter the low door. Bare chested, with nothing more than a leather strap over a shoulder from which dangled an assortment of fetishes and totems made from animals feet and ears, his bronze skin shone with oil and stank of sweat in the noon sunlight pouring over his back. A thick hand came up to brush back a tangle of black locks from his eyes. Snorting, breath making the ring in his nose bounce, the minotaur looked around the room once before stooping to grab the griffon’s head.

Cold dread gripped her as her eyes came into contact with his. Luna’s heart raced as those grey discs darted across her face. It continued to pound against her ribs as he straightened and used a leather thong to tie the head to the belt holding up his simple loin cloth. Hooves thudded away from her hiding place, and Luna let out her breath.

Exploding into action, the minotaur spun back, hooking a hand on the bed’s edge and flinging it aside in a single motion.

Luna screamed as his other hand reached out and grabbed her by the mane. She continued to scream as she was dragged from the hut and then hefted up beneath the minotaur’s arm like she were no more than a sack of grain.

“Quiet,” he commanded in a gruff, foreign tongue, “or I gut shrieking pony like I do griffons.”

This did not have the desired effect, as Luna’s screams grew shriller and her kicks more frantic. It took wrapping a strap over her muzzle to silence Luna. Whimpering, terrified tears matting her fur, she shivered as the minotaur carried her down the hill, passing two more dead griffons on the way.

No matter how much she struggled or glared at her captor, Luna could not escape. The muscles of the arm holding her were like corded iron, and her blows bounced off his chest as they would hardened oak. Even should she have managed to wriggle free, she had nowhere to run. After an hour of being carried she ceased moving entirely, resigned to her fate.

He stayed near the shore, and did little to hide his presence. Occasionally her captor would slow to cast an eye to the sky, but otherwise gave no appearance of concern about there being other griffons about.

The reason for his ease came into view as they rounded a hill overlooking one of the many wide bays.

A large galley stood anchored in the pure blue waters, tall forms moving about it’s deck and the shore setting up camp. Many more stood on the beach at the ready, recurve bows grasped in their hands and arrows thrust nearby in the ground to be plucked if needed. Next to the arrows sat spears resting in neat tents with round shields.

Fear grew in an icy spike in her gut as they drew closer and her captor waved and called to the nearest of the sentries. Leather armour covered his body, a short skirt and greaves providing protection for well toned legs. But it was his head she could not pry her gaze from, and where his bull horns should have been but were missing. This sentry held an aura of martial might that Luna had never seen about the guards of Dreamsong Castle. She did not think that perhaps it was her fear that made him loom so large in her mind, though he certainly was tall and imposing.

Her captor’s deep voice boomed in Luna’s ear, but the meaning behind the words were utterly foreign and nonsense.

Behind his masked bronze helmet the sentry nodded as he spoke in that same harsh, guttural tongue and indicated with a jab of his hand some point further down the beach. Further inspecting the sentry, Luna’s eyes almost burst from her head as she saw not hairy hooves, but coppery, sandaled feet.

These were certainly not minotaurs, but something far, far worse. More terrible than even the griffons. Luna now understood why her captor had been so unconcerned during the trek from the hut. An entire war-galley filled with soulless had come to Coltsica.

Luna swallowed a lump in her throat as she was carried across that dangerous beach towards the ship, any hope left in her heart for rescue fading with each step.

Author's Note

Here it is, after a year and a half of puttering, tweaking, and rewriting is the first half of The Moon on the Sword. It's a homage story to Robert E. Howard's tales of Conan the Barbarian. I spent years playing the MMO, loved the old Arnold movies as well as the more recent one, and have the complete chronicles of Conan.

The largest inspiration has been The Phoenix on the Sword, and this story's title is a direct nod. Work on this story has been done mostly while waiting for edits to be done on other projects and is entirely my own. No other hand has been involved in crafting this story. As such I expect it to be far rougher than what I normally put out. But this story has been a passion project of mine, and I didn't want anyone else involved.

The Moon on the Sword: Act Two (Dark, Gore)

All hope had bled from Luna long before she was dropped onto a table at the heart of the soulless’ camp. Other than a few jugs of wine and a plate holding the bones of some animal, juicy meat still clinging to the joints, the table held just a large map of the island.

She trembled, unsure what to do. Legs curled underneath her she tried to hide her face in the depths of her tail. Would she become like whatever it was on that plate? Eaten? Her thoughts skittered back to what little she knew of the monsters and her hooves flew up to her horn.

Several minutes passed in relative silence, Luna slowly rising her head to look around, each time spotting the minotaur hovering nearby.

Next to the awning under which the table stood was a tent made of thin, lacy cloth that showed several soulless within while hiding anything more than the vagueness of their shadows. These slim forms moved back and forth talking to each other in easy voices, laughter and short giggles frequent while a spicy perfume wafted past Luna’s nose. Her sneeze brought a little gasp from the tent, and in the next instant a curtain was pulled aside to reveal a curious face.

Wide, brown eyes darted over to the minotaur, and a question hung from full red lips before a delighted squeal broke from the creature and with surprising speed she darted from the tent up to Luna on long, coppery legs. Before the minotaur could protest, Luna was scooped up and brought to the woman’s breast. Deceptive strength held Luna fast, and she dared not provoke the creature further by fighting.

The creature’s antics brought fresh, cooing faces from the tent. They surrounded Luna to the minotaur’s chagrin, pinching, petting, and kissing every available space.

A finger traced up Luna’s horn, sending shivers down her spine, and then traced the wound on her brow. A flash of pain elicited a sharp nicker, and at last Luna began to fight. Her hooves swung out to drive the creature’s back, only for a thick hand to grab her by the scruff and pull her away.

Sternly, the minotaur spoke, and the creatures grimaced then grew angry, a spark flickering at the corners of their leader’s eye. She placed a long finger to the minotaur's chest and leaned in closer. As with everything else spoken thus far, Luna had no idea what was said except that the minotaur grew stiff as if he were carved from marble.

Smiling at his discomfort, the trio stole Luna away and whisked her off to their tent in a flurry of parting winks and giggles.

Luna found herself surrounded by silks and incense. Pots of sweet smelling oils sat on low tables decked in golden cups and wine. Cushions adorned a large nook set aside as a bed. Onto this bed Luna was placed, the later two curling around her like a pair of purring panthers.

Over them loomed the first soulless, her expression unreadable and aloof. She tapped her cheek as she looked Luna over, and then she nodded at some decision. Leaning down, those long fingers lifted Luna’s face so they stared eye to eye. A chill swept down Luna’s spine, and she knew beyond any hint of a doubt that this soulless was far more dangerous than any of the other. A snap of her fingers sent a sharp jolt through Luna. Pierced as if by a spear she reeled back, the acrid scent of spent magic lingering in the air.

“What was that, Sopha?” One of the other creatures asked, tilting her head a little and a slight pout touching her full lips.

“I can understand you!” Luna yelped, unable to catch the words before they burst from her in a wild tumble.

The two laying around her stared a moment, then smirked. “Oh ho! So, the cute little pony has found her tongue?”

“She’s so darling,” sighed the other, head resting on one palm while her other hand played with Luna’s mane, twirling it through her fingers. “Dark and velvetine… Think we’ll get to keep her?”

“Doubtful,” The one called Sopha said as she retrieved from her table a foul smelling paste. “Besides, we are not here to pick up stray unicorns. Now, sit still child, while I apply this to your wound. The infection spreads and you will die otherwise.” This statement made Luna freeze, like a mouse caught beneath a cat’s paw. She did not move as the poultice was applied, despite how much it stung. When she was done, Sopha snapped her fingers again, and this time Luna caught the scent of spent magic. Massaging the magic into the poultice, Sopha asked, “What is your name, little unicorn?”

Luna considered not telling, but saw little reason in being spiteful. “Luna,” she replied, and then tried to shrink deeper into the cushions when Sopha put the paste away. Her forehead no longer hurt, and the chills receded.

“Like the moon,” giggled the woman on the right. On seeing the quizzical look Luna gave her, she continued in a somewhat flustered and bored tone, “Luna was the name of the old moon, sister and lover to Parhamane, and the one who created the gateway for our ancestors. She stayed behind to keep the way open for others to follow, but… Oh, this is so dull, and why am I explaining it?”

“No one asked you to give a history lesson, Marian.” Sopha laughed at the discomfort that flashed across her friend’s face, tossing back her head and her ample bosom bouncing. “But it is curious,” she said as her mirth calmed and she began to apply rouge paint to her lips. “Ol’ Firemane gives ponies their names for reasons or a purpose. It can not be coincidence that the gate’s key lay hidden somewhere on this island and she bears the name of the old moon.”

“You think this filly knows where the key is buried?” The third one ruffled Luna’s mane, then bounced off the cushions up to her table. “Your visions have proven true once more, Sopha. The Witch-Queen, they’ll call you!”

Sopha waved off the compliment. “Please, Yasmina, I know a paltry few spells, and the gods bless me with a vision now and then. Hardly enough to compete with the sorcerers in their black towers, or the true witches in their fog shrouded huts in the depths of the swamps. But you know these stories so much better than I, dear Marian! Tells us a tale like you do our lord. Tell us a tale of high adventure in the days of yore when our ancestors walked bravely through the gate to tame lands before unseen!”

“Oh no,” Marian replied at once. “My stories our for our lord alone. He is greedy of their pull, and he frowns so when I share them even with you. But, why do I tell you this yet again? I swear on Parhemane’s tangled beard, you will never give me peace.”

Luna listened with rapt attention as the soulless bantered and played. She found them quickly to be nothing at all like she’d imagined, and presented with such an oddity, her worries and sadness melted away for a time.

Night drew near, the sun yawning near the tips of Coltsica’s mountains, and a lively energy filled the soulless’ camp. Torches were lit, and a great bonfire set around which the men began to gather. Not all, as sentries continued to stand guard beyond the torches glow, even more attentive for ambush. Fingers traced the lines of taught bows, and ears strained for the faintest whisper of wings on the wind or the clank of mail barding.

Luna, secured in the tent with the three women, knew little of what occured beyond the silk walls of her prison. Underneath her bruised flanks the cushions were a welcome respite. Hooves stretched out, she laid next to Marian, chin on the women’s supple thigh, and was fed dried figs.

After the horrors of the last few days, she felt more secure with the jovial preparations of Sopha and her friends than out alone, running from the griffons or worse. The stories of the soulless had to be false, Luna concluded, as no creature that laughed and showed such kindness could be capable of the depravity attributed to them in legend.

Once or twice she contemplated running, but each time she looked up to see the shadow of the minotaur watching the tent, his hand resting on his weapon.

The drumbeat of hooves touched Luna’s ears long before any of the soulless made out the approaching noise. She raised her head towards the sounds and hope flared in her breast that her sister had come in rescue.

She pictured with such clarity Summerset striding into the camp that Luna was certain it was real and not a desperate dream. Hooves twitched, and she began to stretch towards the now louder hoofbeats. Hope made her heart quicken until it was in time to that steady, distant thrum.

Such hopes were dashed at the call of a horn, and the answering retort from one within the camp.

At the horns, the women reacted with gasped breaths and rushed to finish applying their paint and putting on their thin, gossamer dresses. Bare thighs and waists teased the imagination, while veils hid all but their eyes. Strings of gold and jewels came next, placed about the head, neck, and wrist, or dangled from rings in their navels.

Their own preparations complete, the trio then turned on Luna to attack her with their best combs. The same sweet smelling oils were applied behind her ears, paint to match the colour of her mane spread around her eyes, and with a brush a black dragon clasping a crescent moon in its talons painted where Luna’s true mark would one day shine.

She giggled and fidgeted underneath the attention, and her crushed hopes were put aside.

“Now, you will come out after I give you the sign, Luna.” Sopha repeated the command, her voice finally stern and serious. “Remember this, as it is important.”

Luna nodded.

“Just bow to his lordship,” Marian explained, taking over from Sopha. “Do not stare, and do not make eye contact as that is very rude. His Lordship may ask you to sit by his side. If he does this is good, as it means he favours you and you’ll probably survive the night. If not…” Marian shrugged, and Luna was struck by a return of the dread and fear that had filled her when she’d first seen the camp.

“Do not scare the poor thing,” chided Yasmina as she secured her veil and went to the tent flap. “You will be safe, little Luna. His Lordship is a fierce man with a simple honour, but not a fool. You are a unicorn and worth more than all the gold that could be heaped in our ship without it sinking. You will not be harmed. Oh no, not you.”

And then the hoofbeats drew close enough that all else was silenced.

Into the heart of the camp burst a group of five horses, armoured men astride their powerful backs. Luna had never learned of horses before, and until that moment she’d assumed it to be ponies she heard. Her mouth fell open at the giants that skidded to a halt just beyond the lace walls, lather and sweat covering their plain brown coats.

Only animal intelligence glimmered behind the beasts’ black eyes. Eyes that were far too small and sent tremors up Luna’s spine. It were as if a veil onto another world had been shorn, and Luna gazed into a realm of madness and what may have been if not for the twists of fate. A primal urge filled her to escape, to get away from the horses, one far more potent than even that which had grasped her on seeing the soulless.

Light, soothing fingers touched Luna’s withers, their pressure and presence easing the fear. She blinked a few times, and looked up to see Sopha giving her a smile of reassurance.

From the horses’ backs jumped their riders, each tossing their reins around a stout post and then stepping away as others tended to the horses, bringing them water and food.

The largest of the newcomers, decked in crimson brigandine hauberk, clasped arms with the minotaur and slapped a powerful hand on his shoulder. This man alone equalled the minotaur in height and strength. A thick, rust red beard hung in plaits down his chest, swaying as he marched up to a provided stool at the table. There was little Luna could tell of his features with the heavy helmet he wore, except for a white line of grinning teeth that flashed every time he laughed, which was often. Over his right shoulder hung the pelt of a golden lion, the beast’s head acting as a pauldron and its hide a cape. Embossed dragons flew across his armour, their scales made of gold thread glistening in the afternoon light. Scars, white against the burnished copper of his skin, criss-crossed his bare upper arms and thighs, and stood testament to well-earned experience.

Even more impressive was the man’s weapon, a spear half-again his height. Solid dragon bone etched deep with something written in the human tongue carved into the haft, ending in a tuft of manticore hair affixed to both ends along with griffon pinions. The spear head held a shimmering blue-white light, designs in brass trailing along the face.

He sat at the table on a large stool, and around him gathered a dozen of his soldiers as he held council.

“It won’t be long now, Luna,” Sopha said, taking up a long shawl the same colour as Luna’s coat.

Luna and Sopha’s definition of long turned out to be rather different as the minutes rolled by and turned into an hour. For the first while Luna cringed and vacillated between excitement and fear. She bit the edge of her hooves, peered out through cracks in the tent, and hid beneath Marian’s table. The next several she groaned and laid on her back, legs spread as boredom creeped closer. When the cooking fires were lit and the soldiers dispersed from the table, Luna jumped to the tent flap, dancing on the spot in anticipation, all her previous anxiety lost. This too passed, and Luna slumped into Yasmina’s lap, flicking her tail with irritation. Towards the end, when Sol had at last dipped behind the mountains and plunged the beach into a golden gloom heralding the fast approach of night, she cried. At first it was sniffles, then it was near to open bawling.

She wanted her mothers, her sisters, anypony that could give safety and a comforting hoof to rub away the horrors of the past few days.

“There there, dear little thing,” Yasmina said and used a silk cloth to dab away the tears. “You are safe now. The griffons will not come here, unless they wish for death.”

Sopha and Marian repeated the assurances, and together they had the effect of reducing her tears to slight whimpers.

Outside an instrument was strummed, a long exotic note hanging in the air and drawing gasps from the women. Her shawl flinging around her silken, raven hair, Yasmina flew from the tent on a fast patter of feet, toe tips barely touching the sand as she entered a half-circle formed while Luna had been overwhelmed by her losses. Such memories were utterly banished as she stared at the dance. Yasmina flowed and shimmied her hips, eliciting howls and roars of approval from the onlookers. She sped up then slowed down, alternating between flicks and twists of her entire body.

The music sped up, a drum speaking from somewhere unseen, and Yasmina twirled her shawl, bosom a-quiver and the biggest grin on her face. Her shawl floated further and further afield as she moved, until Yasmina came to a sudden stop and beckoned for Marian.

After Yasmina, Marian’s dance seemed very stayed and empty, yet the men grew far quicker and intense in their gazes. There was a subtle grace to her dance, one that drew from the inner reserve rather than the outward energetic movements of her predecessor. Marian was all control and smooth, rolling gestures that transferred from the tips of fingers through her body down her her feet. Precise and beautiful, Marian held the crowd in the palm of her copper hand, no one daring to breath for fear of disrupting the dance.

“Remember what I said,” Sopha whispered in Luna’s ear, and then she too left the tent.

The soulless’ eyes all lit up as Sopha entered the dance, beckoning Yasmina and Marian to join her, all three moving in perfect harmony with each other. Silver flames burst along Sopha arms and ebony hair, climbing higher in time to the music, and dropping to a hissing sputter at the lows. Other illusions joined the flames, a cloud of butterflies flitting from Yasmina and Marian’s hair, their arms multiplying in number, and their shawls moving of their own accord.

As quick as the music had begun it ended, the illusions drifted away like smoke, and Sopha gestured towards the tent. Luna hesitated, frozen on the spot, her gaze locked on the curious crowd. No matter the kindness shown by the three women, Luna could not shake the sense of danger and fear the soulless instilled. Worry flitted across Sopha’s eyes, and she gestured again, while the crowd began to whisper.

On his stool, the soulless’ lord began to frown. He shifted towards the minotaur by his side and whispered.

Sopha pleaded with her eyes and silently begged for Luna to come out.

Swallowing her fear, Luna pushed her way out of the tent. Relief came from the women, while the men clapped their hands in approval and gave out their deep, roaring yells. Grinning, and a little more confident, Luna went up to the lord, and made her bow.

She had to fight hard not to stare at the burns that covered half his face, visible now that his helmet was removed. The scars were terrible, and made his left side appear as if made of melted wax.

He gazed down at her sternly at first, then tossed back his head with a great, booming laugh, hand slapping his knee. “Thraxe!” He said to the minotaur at his side, “When you said that the girls had taken a king’s prize from you, never did I think you meant such as this! Ha-ha!” His laughter summoned similar mirth in the crowd, and soon the entire camp joined their lord in his good humour. As his laughter died away and he called for a mug of wine, he turned to Luna, “Tell me, filly, if you have words on your tongue, what is your name?”

Years of rote training had prepared Luna for moments such as this, and without hesitation she said, “Princess Luna Lullaby of House Lullaby, youngest and least daughter of Queen Syllabus Lullaby the fourth, from Princess Jinxy Fantasia by King Dire Pentacut the second. It is a pleasure, my lord.”

Her proclamation brought nothing but silence from the crowd.

The lord leaned down towards her, reached out, and then lifted her chin with a gentle touch.

“A princess?” He hummed the word, rolling it around his mouth as if it were the first wine he’d ever tasted. “Then know this, I am Heyreddin Barbarosa, and these are my men. The Adharjoon we are called, the greatest and most feared of Kull’s children. Is that not right?”

He shouted this question to the crowd, and as one they answered with, “Kull, Kull, Kull!” pumping their fists and spears into the air.

“Sit on my lap, girl,” Heyreddin clapped a palm to his thick thigh. “And tell me the tales spun by your ancestors. No, a better idea! It is said that the song of a unicorn is the most beautiful sound in all the world. That even the fiercest of dragons will be calmed and lulled back into their hundred-year slumbers. Sing for us, princess, and give my men and I some joy, for tomorrow we hunt griffons, and only Ol’ Firemane knows who will live or die.”

After such a request, so earnestly given and with all the kindness the soulless had shown her, Luna couldn’t refuse.

Up into his lap she jumped, deciding on which song to sing. She didn’t know many, most being nursury rhymes of the sort not suitable for entertaining a lord. Of those that remained only one answered.

Taking a deep breath, one on which the entire camp hinged, gazing at her with reverant, keen faces, Luna launched into the Ballad of Crystal Dew. It was a slow, sad song, filled with remorse and regrets of a time when the disc was young and primal, detailing the titular Crystal Dew as she was separated from her herd and journeyed across dangerous lands in search of home.

Each lyric was infused with Luna’s own loss and sorrows, resonating across the beach in a floating melody. At the start of the second chorus the haunting tones of a ney and kamancheh spoke, carrying Luna’s voice in a deathly wind that chilled those who heard.

Luna lost herself into the song, its source coming from a place hidden and buried deep at her core. It were as if exploring her home she’d found a new passageway, and down it an indeterminable number of doors, none she’d ever dreamed of before. One stood slightly ajar, and it was from it the song originated. She edged nearer, curious about the music’s source, only for the song to reach its melancholy conclusion. The door snapped shut once more, and the illusion faded away.

Opening her eyes, Luna looked up to see tears running down the faces of the soulless. Yasmina held Marian, the latter shook with sobs and curled into a tight ball. Men, hardened soldiers and warriors all, as accustomed to death as any could become, did not hide their tears.

“Never have I heard such beauty,” Heyreddin sighed, wiping at his face with the back of a hairy hand.

Luna smiled, and only wished that her sisters could have been with her and her new friends.

A shrill scream of rage shook the griffon galleys at anchor beneath the smoldering ruins of Dreamsong Castle. The vessels bobbed on the light swell, keen eyed guards staring hard at the sacked town and their merrymaking brothers ashore. Those aboard the largest of the galleys winced at the sounds of a chair being smashed in their captain’s quarters, followed by another scream.

“Incompetence!” Howled Baron Scalane. A burly griffon, large in stature and the size of his gut, he paced and glared at his commanders as they cringed and wilted away from his fury. None dared meet his eye, afraid of what they would not see. “Lord Amon is greatly displeased with our failure to capture a single foal.”

“But, Lord we’ve captured hundreds of—” The speaker’s words ended in a bubbling scream, his throat torn out.

Talons dripping, Scalane turned to his remaining commanders. “Lord Amon cares not a whit for the chattel.”

He settled at the long table around which they’d been planning and plotting, maps covering the oak surface. Few of the maps agreed on topography and layout of the island, and mistakes had been made as a result. Costly mistakes.

As many of the scouts that had returned had failed to come back, lost to traps, ambushes, and whatever natural predators the island hosted. With each loss, Scalane’s fury grew, until he made no distinction between friend and foe alike, visiting upon any his bloody wrath.

“It was all going so well,” he continued, drumming his gorey talons on the tabletop, and black eyes shooting hate at the maps. “The castle fell far quicker than anticipated, and the town was taken quickly. But, the damn ponies have rallied, because you useless twig brains did not follow through. Now they raid us in return, while we are stuck here, because you failed to capture a single, little filly.”

“My lord, we still have the advantage,” spoke one of the commanders. “Let my flight take the Hyleans place in the south. We will not fail you as they have done.”

“The south has been unsettlingly dangerous. How many scouts have returned from there? None? Harumph…” Scalane pondered the maps again, and again. “Yes, south is where the filly will have fled. But why? There is naught there but… The ship! The ship we spied on our way north, could that be to where the filly flies?”

“That ship sailed under the blackest of banners, Lord Scalane. No pony, no matter how young and foolish, would seek comfort among that lot. Worse than pirates, that was the flag of the Adharjoon we spied.”

“The Adharjoon?” Scalane shook his head, and his fury turned into a cold blade. “I will lead you myself. The humans have landed down there. They must have found the filly. It is the only explanation.”

A current of unease rippled through the commanders, each looking to their companion to see who’d speak up first. There was not a griffon alive that didn’t possess a primal, almost unnatural fear of the humans, except, perhaps, for Scalane. He grinned and went to don his armour.

The Moon on the Sword: Act Three (Dark, Gore)

Summerset stood alone on a low ridge, her gaze fixed as it had been for some hours on the distant beach camp. Her aura played with the clasp of her sword, unbinding it then fastening it once more over and over in rote motions as she contemplated the monsters that had invaded her home. As if the griffons had not been enough of a pox, killing and maiming hundreds before fleeing back to their ships with hundreds of stolen foals.

What horrors the griffons planned for the foals drove tremors of rage up Summerset’s spine to contemplate.

There was little she could do about the griffons. Not while Luna was missing. Every thought, every fibre of her being was tuned towards the singular goal of protecting her littlest sister.

No pony on Coltsica, or perhaps the entire disc, was as important as Luna.

Summerset closed her eyes and recalled the day she’d first set eyes on Luna. The newborn filly, so tiny and dark in her swaddling, gurgled from within the depths of a simple basket that belied the importance of her birth.

She recalled drifting out of a deep slumber to hear the voices of her mothers and father as they spoke to a guest. Eyes flickering open, Summerset lifted her head from the table and wondered why she’d gone to sleep while at dinner. Near everypony else at the table was similarly lost to dreams, all except her parents.

A sliver of awe stabbed Summerset on seeing who it was her parents spoke with so freely; Faust Invictus, The Goddess of Fate.

The goddess stood with her back to Summerset, so tall and majestic in a burgundy gown. She was a giant among ponies, both in stature and in energy. An electric current filled the air, power flowing from Faust in almost visible waves that left Summerset speechless. It was next to the goddess that the basket holding Luna sat. Little hooves wiggled up towards Summerset, Luna offering a little happy giggle.

“Do not worry,” Faust said, “I’ve already seen to it that nopony will question from whence she came. A spell, far from simple, but one that will keep anypony from wondering. To all on Coltsica they will assume that Luna is your daughter, Princess Jinxy. That there were no announcements will be brushed aside. Such are the ways of ponies. None think to question their own ideas and beliefs closely, I’ve found. Even those given to them through magic.”

Faust turned, and Luna began to cry. Sorrow flashed across Faust’s eyes, and crystal tears clung to her cheeks. Summerset had never seen a pony so sad before, or since. Greater are the joys of the goddesses, but so too are their pains far more profound. The Queen of All Ponies did not waver, and she walked away from her daughter, only to stop next to Summerset.

“I know that no matter what trials await her, my daughter will be safe with you as her sister,” Faust said, and then she’d laid a wingtip to Summerset’s withers. “Watch over her, I beg of you.”

And then Faust was gone, and nopony on the disc had seen her since.

Several times Summerset went over that long-ago encounter and thought to march down on the camp, alone, but hesitated each time. Until she was certain Luna was in their clutches, Summerset would not risk antagonizing the soulless. At the same time, in her heart of hearts, Summerset knew Luna was down on that beach.

It was too much of a coincidence for the griffons and the soulless to come to Coltsica at the same time.

The actions of both groups were wrong. They were searching for something, and the only thing on Coltsica of any value was Luna. The island was not a bastion of wealth and gold. There were no hidden jewels or treasures waiting to be uncovered. Only Luna.

Summerset ran a hoof over her tangled, unwashed mane and then stood to return to her own camp.

It was not far to the cave claimed by the survivors of Dreamsong Castle Summerset had gathered. More of a shallow indent near the base of the mountain, a bare dozen ponies huddled around a pair of campfires, rubbing warmth into the legs as the night grew damp and chilly. Of them only she and Sir Sydney were unicorns and trained knights. The rest were comprised of a pegasus family that had managed to flee inland from the town, a couple other stragglers, and five earth pony guards.

And Dirge.

Not a word had Dirge spoken since Summerset rescued her from the griffons' clutches. Worry twisted in Summerset’s guts, but there was little she could do to soothe Dirge’s heart. The deep claw marks on her sister’s flanks and withers were another matter, and Summerset sat down next to her sister in order to change her bandages.

A hissed intake of breath was the only reaction Dirge gave as the soiled cloth was removed and clean ones applied, along with a spell to prevent infection. It was such times Summerset wished she knew proper healing spells, rather than mere first aid. Once done, Summerset placed the old bandages in a pot to be boiled clean, kissed Dirge on the forehead, and whispered, “Just rest. Everything will get better, I promise.”

“You shouldn’t make oaths you can not be certain to keep,” Sir Sydney commented when Summerset joined her at the campfire.

Rolling her shoulders in a shrug, Summerset began to place provisions into a small bag, and tightened the straps of her belt. “I need you to get these ponies to Port Spei. Commandeer a boat or get a villager to transport you to the mainland. Queen Crescendo of Trotalonia will give you shelter, and if not, then go to Dame Unicornia and explain what has happened. But, I doubt it will come to that.”

“I am hardly going to go running off to Dirge’s grand dame with my tail between my legs and leave you here!” Sir Sydney protested, her jaw set to withstand whatever arguments Summerset chose to use in counter. “You are the rightful queen of Coltsica now, and my place is by your side.”

“Your place is heeding my commands, Sir Sydney, or must I strip you of that knighthood my mother bestowed upon you?” Summerset’s eyes flashed with danger as she rounded on her fillyhood friend. “I have no use for a knight that ignores her queen.”

“Except, you’re not my queen, yet.” Sir Sydney smirked, then sighed. “But I understand. You feel you have to do this alone to make up for failing Bellicosa, Luna, and the rest of the island. But, that is foolish pride on your part. And you know what the Book of Names says of Pride…”

“‘She with too much Pride will see only their own actions as justified’,” Summerset quoted at once without inflection or care. “That hardly counters my orders, Sydney. This isn’t pride, but duty. Faust tasked me with protecting Luna, and I must do so.”

Sir Sydney grabbed Summerset roughly, twisting her around until they were face to face. “Faust does not get involved in such a manner with mortals. Not unless you believe yourself to be one of her mythical Elements of Harmony. If that were the case I’d call you twice a damn fool and wonder whence such delusions originated.”

With a sharp slap, Summerset disrupted Sir Sydney’s aura.

“The Elements are bedtime stories, and no more. I am not a fool, nor am I overcome with idolised romanticism. Faust…” Summerset bit her tongue and shook her head violently. “I can not say how I know, only that I am as certain that it is my appointed duty to protect Luna as I am that the sun will rise in the east, and the tides shift in tune to the moon. Trust me, I would not be doing this if I did not believe in my heart that it wasn’t necessary.”

Sir Sydney searched her face, and Summerset wished with all her might that the knight would just do as commanded. Her body trembled with the fear of her chosen path, and that which lay in wait, hidden like serpents in darkened crags, ready to dart out and ensnare the unwary. Too many had died and suffered already, and they’d only narrowly managed to avoid the thanes’ touch so far through luck. At any moment her resolve could break, and leave her prostrate on the ground, torn in half by warring duties and emotions.

“Throwing yourself into death’s waiting hooves will not serve anypony, nor will it assuage your guilt, princess. But, if I can’t stop you from going, then neither can you stop me from accompanying you,” Sir Sydney responded.

“Or us from accompanying you, Your Highness,” spoke one of the pegasi.

Summerset glanced over and winced. Everypony stared hard at her and Sir Sydney, even Dirge, and she could see in their expressions that they were all as determined as she herself. An argument rose up in her throat, ready to tell them as she had Sir Sydney to head westward over the mountain, but it sputtered and died unsaid. She shrugged again, and instead said, “If things turn violent—as I am certain they will—then grab the fillies and fly as fast and far as your wings or hooves will carry you. Hopefully, we’ll appear intimidating enough that they’ll at least parley.”

They gathered their things just before dawn, such as they’d managed to scrape together in their hurried flight from their homes, and began the final journey towards the beach and the soulless.

Dawn’s golden rays slanted down that morning to find Luna at peace and content. She slept nestled between Marian and Yasmina, an arm stretched over her in a protective shield. Pleasant dreams were interrupted by a nearby squak, a shriek, and then the running of sandaled feet through the pebbly shore.

Rubbing the crusts of sleep from her eyes, Luna sat up slowly, and around a yawn asked, “What’s going on?”

“It sounded like a griffon being caught in one of the snares,” Yasmina mumbled. “Foolish beasts,” she yawned, “but their pelts are so comfortable, and their meat delicious.”

They’d only begun to settle back down when a new noise flowed over the camp, this one a horn similar to that which had announced Heyreddin’s return. Sleep well banished, Luna poked her nose out of the tent, peering in the direction which the men congregated.

A further shout drew her from the tent, and a knicker that could only be from a pony brought her into a cantor. She spied Sopha ahead, at the edge of a cluster of men. Luna suspected they slept in their armour, for she had yet to see them take a single bracer or greeve off.

On reaching Sopha, Luna was elated to see a group of ponies lead by her sister. They stood, staring at the ring of humans around them, ears flicking this way and that, bodies tense.

Taking a step forward, Summerset announced herself, and concluded by saying, “I am here to parley with your chief. There is no need for conflict.”

“Summerset! You’re alive!” Luna shouted in joy and started to run towards her sister, only to be halted by a spear thrust in her path.

“Contain the filly, Sopha,” Heyreddin growled, the tenor of his voice sending ripples of dread down Luna’s back and making her heart sink. He stepped forth, his pace slow, gaze taking Summerset’s measure. His beard broke into a fierce grin, and fingers tightened on the haft of his spear. “It would have been wiser of you to take those ponies and escape into the hills, unicorn, rather than so boldly trot into my camp.”

He gestured with a sweep of his free hand to his men in their neat lines, shields at their sides, spears at the ready, and a hungry gleam in their eyes. Summerset grimaced, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she considered the seventy-eight men, each a trained killer and brute.

She set her shoulders, and did not waver. “I do not seek a fight, simply a trade.”

Summerset’s words dimmed Heyreddin’s grin, and he clicked his teeth together in thought. “A trade?” he replied. “You wish to trade yourself for the filly, no doubt, but why? It seems foolish to hurl yourself into a den of wolves such as I keep for the sake of a filly.”

“Would not you do the same if an enemy had taken your little sister?” Summerset countered without pause.

“No.” Heyreddin answered equally as fast, his expression growing sterner. “But my brothers are all spineless curs that grovel and lick our father’s boots, desperate for his favour so they may be named the next king. Thrice I’ve gutted a brother who has tried to sink their dagger in my back. Then again, I see from the shock on your face that you’d never consider such deeds.”

He laughed, and the pitt in Luna’s stomach grew. She could see the battle about to happen, and given their sheer numbers, Luna saw no way Summerset could overcome the soulless. A throbbing pulse hit Luna at the base of the horn, jolting her, making her legs almost give out. She couldn’t watch another sister die.

Heyreddin then surprised them all by waving for Summerset to follow and barked out, “Settle down lads, and keep an eye for those griffons. I do not like how dogged their scouts have grown.” He then made his way to his stool and commanded benches or cushions be provided for Summerset and the other ponies. “Bring us some wine,” he added as he leaned back on his make-shift throne.

Cautious of a trick, Summerset followed slowly, and only after being told to sit a second time did she settle across from Heyreddin.

“You’re offer is intriguing, I’ll grant you that much, princess…?”

“Summerset.”

Heyreddin rolled the strange syllables around his mouth a couple times, the magic used to translate her words leaving them untouched, then grunted and continued. “Truth is that your sister is a far greater prize. She is young and can be broken, while you have a headstrong, independent gleam in your eye. You may give a hundred oaths not to run, and keep to them, but never would you accept a master. Oh no, not you. Luna, however?”

He shrugged and Luna did not care at all for the glance he shot her way, nestled between Sopha and Yasmina on the outskirts of the ring. Heyreddin’s fingers drummed against his knee, and he leaned forward.

“Besides, there is a prize far greater that concerns me on this island. The soothsayers and mystics have for months been making prophecies and thrown into visions of a relic appearing out here in the west. The Jewel of Selene they call it, and that any who holds it will possess dominion over the moon and night.”

“There is no such artifact on Coltsica, unless some dragon has it hidden beneath the mountain in its horde.” For just an instant, before she spoke, Summerset’s eyes darted to Luna. It was a look that did not go unnoticed by those present.

“Is there not, indeed? The gods have played all the disc for fools once again? While that would be like Kull, to lay down a challenge and see who rises up to meet it, it is not his soothsayers that have been babbling prophecy, but those of Artim, and it is well known that he sends only truthful knowledge to his devoted supplicants. You know something about this Jewel.” Heyreddin let out a weary growl and stood. “But enough of this. I could claim you all easy enough. Four unicorns, a gaggle of pegasi; you’ll fetch a pretty coin in Parmeria’s markets. I have no use for common ponies, though.”

Luna’s head throbbed again, hard enough for her to hiss in surprise, though there was no pain. It was more like a heavy stone was shifting in the back of her head.

Sopha’s hand tightened on Luna’s withers, though whether she meant to provide comfort or keep her in place, Luna was not certain.

Her trust in the soulless was entirely shaken, head swimming with conflicting emotions. They’d been so kind to her the day before, and now they acted as if she were a mere thing.

Whatever Summerset’s response to Heyreddin, it as subsumed beneath the blast of a nearby horn and the shouts of men.

Everyone reacted at once, with a speed that could only be attained through a life of training and battle. Heyreddin and Summerset both leapt to the ready at the same time, glares leveled not on each other, but on the sky. There, from the hills and ocean, flew hundreds of griffons. The winged monsters shrieked and clacked their claws, or smacked weapons to shields.

Sandaled feet rushing through the loose pebbles, the soulless formed their ranks into tight rings, shields set into a wall and spears thrusting out like the deadly spines of a porcupine. Luna herself was lifted up by Sopha and carried into the heart of the nearest such group. Around Luna and Sopha stood a handful of archers, their faces stoic masks hiding whether they felt elation or fear.

“Stay here, and you will be safe,” Sopha promised as she, Yasmina, and Marian snatched up bows.

Outside the rings, the ponies scampered and looked for cover, uncertain whether to fight or run.

All except Summerset. She twisted towards Sir Sydney and barked, “get them to safety!” before she met the first of the griffons, plucking from a stand one of the soulless’ spears and hurling it into his path. The spear caught the griffon in the chest with a wet thunk, twisting his dive into a helpless plummet. He hit the rocks just to Summerset’s left, where she placed a hoof to his twitching body and yanked the weapon free as she drew her own sword.

An iron laugh lit Summerset’s eyes as she stood alone among the thronging griffons. She fought like she were demon-possessed, twisting and hacking, cutting her sworn enemies down in swaths. In her berserk passion she did not miss a stroke, and added weapon after weapon to those that darted about her. First five, then eight, now a dozen felled until their bodies were heaped beneath her hooves.

Even the Adharjoon took notice, shouting out encouragement in their heavy voices as they drove off the swarming beasts, firing their arrows to strike those attempting to get at the princess’ back.

Bedlam and chaos were everywhere. Screams of blood and death clawed at Luna’s ears. The throbbing in her head grew louder, and in it she made out a voice.

“Wait for me,” the voice commanded, “I am coming!”

She fell to her knees in the broken rocks, breaths short and ragged, sweat running thick down her face and stinging her eyes.

Without the training or shields of the adharjoon, the ponies were easy pickings for the blood frenzied griffons. Dirge coward underneath Sir Sydney, and the others did their best to fend off attacks, but their efforts were entirely futile against such numbers. A scream tore from one of the earth ponies, then ended in a weak gurgle.

“Help them,” Luna pleaded the men around her, hooves clutching at her head to stymy the throbbing.

Sopha, Yasmina, and Marian looked to each other, and came to an instant agreement. Out of the protective shell Sopha leapt closely followed by the other two. They landed among the ponies and Sopha threw out her hands. Magic danced between the rings on her fingers and stretched outward, forming a dome of shimmering blue under which the startled ponies huddled.

Yasmina and Marian’s aim proved far truer than even that of the men, both placing their arrows through the eyes of darting and swooping griffons at a distance of a dozen yards. First surprised, than thankful, Sir Sydney added her own magic to reinforce the spell cast by Sopha.

Not to be outdone by Summerset, a few of the men had yet to join one of the rings, Heyreddin and the minotaur Thraxe among them, and instead roamed and bounded around the beach, thrusting and cutting with spear and sword. Heyreddin drove his spear into an exposed belly, even as a grim laugh echoed from his lips.

So caught in the battle, no one noticed the moon rise above the mountain in the west, flying backwards along her usual course.

“I am almost there, my precious little jewel, just a moment more and you will be safe. I promise,” boomed the otherworldly voice in Luna’s head.

Crawling on her knees, Luna lurched out between the feet of the soulless towards Summerset.

Seeing her sister, Summerset shouted, “Luna, stay back!” Pressed hard on all sides, she could not reach Luna, and instead was driven further away.

Luna crossed only half the distance, heedless of her sister’s warning, when Scalane came out of the sky like a stone cast by a catapult. Pebbles skittered around his talons, and he loomed large over Luna, tongue wetting his beak.

Talons reached for Luna, only to dart back as Heyreddin’s finely crafted spear sank into the ground on which Scalane had stood. Roaring like a bear, Heyreddin charged, flinging foe and ally alike out of his way, a sword and axe appearing in his huge hands. With a mighty chop he swung the axe at Scalane’s head, and the griffon survived only by a beat of his broad wings springing him back. Another griffon tried to get at the human’s back, but his instincts were keener. Heyreddin ducked, pivoted on his heel, and met the beast with a slash of his sword across an exposed belly, spilling his attacker’s entrails across the rocks. Seeing the human open, Scalane lunged low then sprang high when Heyreddin thrust with his sword. Talons swept across upper arm and face, scraping across bone and leaving ghastly wounds in their passing. Blinded, Heyreddin staggered back with a terrible roar, and clapped a hand to hold up the flaps of skin torn from his face. Blood gushed down his face, but the wound served only to enrage him further, so lost was he to battle-lust.

Before Heyreddin could lunge again, Scalane grabbed Luna by the throat. Luna could let out little more than a choked yelp as she was hefted close to Scalane’s twisted face. “The Jewel of Selene! I have her at last!” Scalane cackled, his foul breath washing over Luna as he carried her into the air.

They flew over the battlefield and towards the north, Scalane’s laughter growing with every beat of his wings. Just as rocky beach gave way to scraggly rolling hills he gave out a shriek, and tumbled out of the sky. Unseen by either, Sopha had flung out her hand and sent a ball of green flame chasing after the pair that had clipped Scalane’s wing, searing away feathers and flesh. The disc rolled, as did Luna’s stomach, all sense of direction lost as they plummeted. She closed her eyes and tensed.

Hitting the ground first, Scalane acted as a cushion for Luna, sparing her from any substantial harm. She rolled at once to get away from the griffon’s thrashing limbs and deadly talons.

Trembling with terror and horror, Luna lay paralysed as Scalane rose up over her. The last vestiges of sanity drained his face, eyes hollow, empty things devoid of all but the gleam of madness.

At that moment Summerset appeared, a jump carrying her high, and then landing but a short dash from her sister and the maddened griffon. Scalane turned as Summerset’s shadow fell over his back, fury growing at the persistence of his enemies. Summerset crashed into Scalane’s side and sent both sprawling. A back-handed blow across the muzzle knocked her senses astray for a precious moment, breaking her grip on her sword and sending it clattering to Luna’s hooves. Summerset reacted like panther, but he moved faster still, pinning her to the ground, talons digging into the flesh of her shoulder and flank and drawing a pained yell from the unicorn. With a twist of her head, Summerset drove her horn into one of Scalane’s eyes, bursting the orb and sending the griffon into renewed spasms. Summerset struggled to her hooves, her strength at last flagging. Blood ran in thick streams down her legs, mane matted to her neck, and the fiercest grin yet seen that day on her face.

Barely able to stand, Summerset couldn’t dodge when the mad griffon readied a final attack.

Heart hammering in her chest, Luna picked up Summerset’s sword, the blade trembling in her aura. Her legs shook with such force she wondered if perhaps it wasn’t the disc itself that quaked. All Luna knew for certain was that she had to protect her sister and those who’d shown her such kindness. So many had rushed to protect her, given their lives to keep her safe. She couldn’t allow another to die.

Tears prickled along the edges of Luna’s eyes, and she whispered, “I’m not afraid.”

Overhead there came a tremendous crack, like ten thousand whips snapping through the heavens at once, as the ancient sigil formed to keep the sun and moon always opposite reached the breaking point and shattered. Sheets of iridescent aetherial fire blossomed in lines and circles all across the disc, drawing every eye skyward in wonder and fear.

It was at that moment that Luna saw Selene’s reflection upon the sword, a silver crescent like the moon were herself a scythe. Brilliant flares of silvery-blue sheathing her surface, Selene flew across the daylit sky.

Luna turned towards the moon. The throbbing in her head reached a crescendo, sparking a song in her soul that awakened a vast ocean of dormant silvery light; swirling, churning, and beautiful.

Head tossed back, Luna unleashed the light in a defiant blast that consumed Scalane, and flung Summerset away. Summerset bounced and rolled to a stop just beyond the light’s edge.

“Dear Faust, no,” Summerset hissed, trying but unable to get to her hooves.

Higher and higher the magic stretched, pouring from Luna’s hidden depths, until it touched the very edges of the heavens and then beyond. Through the magic luna could feel herself touch Sol and spread out amongst the sleeping stars. The sun shrugged off Luna’s advance, billowing rage forming a shield of plasma.

“You are not my Shepherd!” Sol roared in defiance, coronal ejections forming into the arms of a colossal octopus that writhed from her surface and dominated the sky. “Begon! This is the day, and the time of my dominion. You no longer belong here!”

Luna tried to shrink back from the sun, her mind burnt where the impossibly heavy voice entered her thoughts, but her grip on the magic pouring through her was tenuous and weak. She could no more stem the flood than she could halt a river with her hoof. Yet, the magic did not hurt, it soothed. It felt good and Luna did not know if she wanted the rush to end.

“She is mine, sister,” called Selene, the moon racing across the blue day. Unlike Sol, Selene’s voice was gentle for all the reverberations that followed her words. It was a tempered, ghostly strength that flowed from the moon; a voice of serenity, grace, and comfort, yet also one of immense power.

The moon did not slow in her flight until she’d interposed herself between Luna and Sol. Her silver surface turned black as tar, around which silver and gold flames formed a ring.

Across the disc, everyone gazed in wonder and fear at the eclipse and accompanying auroras as day was plunged into sudden night. Most prostrated themselves at once and issued fervent prayers to their deity of choice. Many fled indoors in blind panic, certain that the end of days had come. Some tried to enact spells or rites to placate either the sun, moon, or both. All fruitless endeavours.

Between Selene and Luna the magic flowed higher, rebounding between them in a cascading dance, entwining into the other to create a symphony. Lightning crackled around the pillar, wild spells bursting like fireworks at a celebration. Snow fell in clumps, caught in the hot, muggy wind so it was whipped into the staring face of pony and man. Starlings burst in tittering flocks out of the storm, pulled from places distant and near. Frost and fire in equal parts flowed in snaking lines from where Luna sat, transfixed by Selene.

Blind to the disc outside the comforting light of her magic, yet able to see the entire world at once from on high, Luna turned her head this way and that.

The griffons that survived fled, their numbers reduced to but a fraction. With a great heave, Summerset forced herself up, then lowered her head and shoulder, using her own magic to form a buffer as she attempted to reach her sister.

Appearing out of the tattered, wind blown camp with Sopha at his side, Heyreddin peered at the wild magic in wonder with his remaining eye. A bandage covered the ravaged side of his face, and he tossed up an arm as a further shield. Resting on one knee, he grabbed Sopha by the waist so she wouldn’t be blown back by the stinging wind.

“Kull! What sorcery is this? No unicorn could cause such havoc.” On seeing Summerset take another step closer to the pillar, he shouted, “She will kill you, princess, turn back!”

“Luna will not harm me,” Summerset shouted in defiance, her voice barely audible over the shrieking wind and crackling magic.

Head pressed low, Summerset forged her way into the heart of the light. There she found Luna, eyes wide and bursting with blue aether, little body rocking back and forth. On Luna’s face there was a smile, one that twitched and jittered every few seconds and was then followed by a convulsion of her body and another burst of lightning up the column’s length.

“I can hear her, Summerset. I can hear the moon, and I can see the entire disc,” Luna said through clenched teeth. “I have to protect them. There is so much evil, and I can stop it.”

Summerset leaned forward and wrapped her hooves around Luna, pulling her sister close. “Not today though, Luna. You’ve done enough for today.”

Protests readied themselves, but went unsaid. The twitches faded, the column of light parted, and the disc became calm as Luna fell into a deep sleep wrapped in the safety of her sister’s hooves. Exhausted beyond measure, and with the danger of the griffons and magic-surge past, Summerset was overcome by her own wounds and slumped against Luna.

Raising himself slowly, Hayreddin looked over the beach. The rest of his men and the few remaining ponies slowly advanced, their gazes wide with awe and grips tight on their weapons. Sopha brushed off Heyreddin’s grip and darted to Summerset’s side.

“Bring me my herbs and poultices, at once,” she barked to the nearest onlooker, her voice shaking him from his reverent stupor.

Movements slow and sluggish, Hayreddin walked to where the sisters lay. Next to them, seared into stones where he had fallen was a black shadow marking the spot of Scalane’s demise. His gaze was drawn from the scarred stones to Luna, where it settled on her flank and the nebulous patch of pitch black fur around a crescent moon. Overhead, Selene mirrored the mark’s shape, a deadly curve of silver in the blue sky while Sol sailed onwards towards the western edge.

With a shake of his head, Hayreddin said, “You are no mere princess, Luna Lullaby. Lullaby? Ha! You are an Invictus! Ol’ Firemane, what games you play with us mere mortals that you would send your daughter among us. Is this just for her benefit, or is it for ours as well?”

No answers came, of course, and after bending down to gently lift the small filly while Sopha tended to Summerset, Hayreddin turned to his men. They fell to their knees unbidden, heads low in reverence. Each knew that they had just witnessed the arrival of a goddess, and they raised their voices to Ol’ Firemane, Kull, Ishata, Parhemane, and Artim.

“Thraxe, bring the other princesses. The rest of you, treat the wounded, especially the ponies, and ready the ship,” Hayreddin commanded, then he marched towards the galley with a shout of, “and bring us a flagon of wine! By Ol’ Firemane, today has been thirsty work.”

Where the Sea Meets the Storm

Where the Sea Meets the Storm
By Tundara

Hades never suspected that his world would end on a bright, warm June day. Sol blazed with a particular intensity creating a happy blanket of light that swept from the usually chilly glaciers of the far north all the way to recently re-re-arisen island of Marelantis and across the waving golden savannah of Zebrica and the mountain fortresses of the griffons in the east. All agreed it was one of the most wonderful days in recorded memory.

In a few days the Summer Sun Celebration would arrive, and everyone hoped that the sun’s good mood would last at least until the festivals were over, if not longer.

All over Equestria ponies flocked to the beaches eager to soak in the golden rays. With baskets stuffed full with treats and towels, they gathered until the shores of lakes and the oceans were dotted so as to appear like some giant had sprinkled bags of candies across the sand.

The royal herd of House Invictus was no different.

Plans had been made long in advance, and it was for her numerable daughters that Celestia ensured Sol cast just the perfect amount of light.

Theirs was a private beach far from the bustle of the towns or cities. The water, a clear aqua with the white sand bottom visible several fathoms down, was inviting and cool. A small school of brightly coloured fish darted around a coral reef, while a nurse shark rested in the shade the coral cast. Placid waves lapped along the shore as the slightest of breezes ran through the tops of overhanging palm trees.

Stretched over the edges of their pegasus drawn sky-carriages, a large group of fillies let out gasps and squeals of delight as the beach came into sight. It took a small fleet to transport the entire family at the best of times, and with so many distant and near relatives also in attendance, that day it was more akin to a full armada. In addition to the nine Muses, there were their cousins; Ambrosia, Shyara, Skyla, Soir, Talona, Tyr, and Zephyr.

As if the fillies were not enough, there were their parents, grandmother, and a slew of aunts and uncles. All told, over two dozen alicorns descended on the beach.

Before the carriages wheels had come to a stop, the fillies were pouring over the edges like a marshmallow waterfall. While the younger muses—Calliope, Polyhymnia, Arche, and Arengea—headed straight for the water, their older siblings—Aoide, Mneme, and Melete—began to search for the best places to lay their towels and set up the awnings. From their bassinets, the two newest addition the herd giggled and sputtered, Thalia and Clio reaching out for the waves with tiny hooves as they drifted along between their mothers.

“Be careful, Soir!” Hades called out as he descended the midnight blue carriage that carried him, Luna, and Twilight.

“I’m fine,” she called back even as she tripped over her own gangly hooves and performed a cartwheel that ended in a splash amid her cousins.

“Ha! As if there is need to worry for her,” Luna chided as she jumped down and sunk her hooves into the sand. “She’s survived far worse than anything this beach can conjure, and there is nothing foolish enough to threaten her.”

Hades merely arched one of his pale blue eyes and let his black face grow longer. A hoof came half-way up to tug his short snowy beard before stopping and slowly descending again.

“I, of all ponies, am well aware that she has suffered through far worse dangers. That does not preclude the Fates throwing only-they-know-what trials our way. I will not rest easy until she is old enough to alone smite anything so foolish as to attempt her harm. Until that day has come, I will, mph!” His little speech came to an end by way of Luna clamping his muzzle shut with her aura.

“Zeus is right; you need to learn to relax,” Luna huffed as she dragged the struggling and sputtering God of the Dead along the beach, much to Twilight’s amusement. “Don’t think you’re getting out of things easy, either.”

Twilight merely grinned and picked up the training swords Luna had brought before following.

Further along the beach Tyr, Shyara, Ambrosia, and Zephyr set up a game of hoofball along with Zeus, Iridia, and Faust. Calling Soir over to join them, they divided into groups of four separated by a net. Back and forth they darted and dashed to keep a white ball in the air. Naturally, this lead to those with wings flying higher and higher in their efforts to win, to the disappointed shouts of those few still land-bound.

The final members of the group, Cadence, Fluer, and Fluttershy, chose to rest with their mortal husbands underneath a line of umbrellas with Rarity and Celestia.

Truly, it was the greatest gathering of the alicorns on Ioka in years.

Half buried in sand, Hades wondered why they did not make time for such gatherings more often. How many troubles could have been avoided back on Gaea if they’d simply acted more like a family? A wry grin found its way onto his muzzle.

Then again, the ideals of family varied so vastly between the two worlds it was perhaps not such a surprise after-all.

Every pony on Ioka may have decided on different roles to take on the world—some like Celestia and Iridia chose to rule nations, while others like Fluttershy and Hades preferred quiet anonymity—but, they all made the time for each other. They didn’t just cloister themselves away from each other even at the worst of times. Come rain or shine—though, to be fair, Celestia made certain it was always shine—they’d gather three times a year. And if there was something important one member had to deal with, then it became a problem for the entire extended family.

Few were the beings in creation that would choose to anger such a pantheon.

Not that he was liable to stay much longer. He’d been gone from Tartarus far too long. Who knew what calamities his city had managed to conjure with his absence. For once in his existence, he looked forward to going home and taking up his throne as King of the Underworld, even if it meant leaving behind his friends for a time.

Enjoying his thoughts, he watched Luna and Twilight. The way their shapely flanks moved in the sunlight as they practiced, the sparkling of their manes with every twist, thrust, and parry. A wild, enthusiastic light glimmered in Luna’s eye, and she seemed ten times as beautiful even on a mock-battlefield. Twilight grunted and grimaced, frustrated at how easy Luna held her back, and determined that this would be the day she at last beat her cousin.

As was his experience, such pleasantness could not last, and so too the happiness that blanketed the beach began to wither. Hades was first to sense it, this keen intellect always more attune to the shifting currents towards misfortune. Or, perhaps he was just more prone to accepting when things were about to turn sour.

A presence, one he’d not felt in eons, tickled the back of his mind. For a second he wanted to dismiss it. Afterall, he was deep in reminiscence, it would not be unusual to imagine something out of nothing in such times.

Except, this presence was not alone.

“Something the matter, Hades?” Twilight glanced over from her sparring with Luna.

He began to shake his head, but stopped, and instead let out a long snort. At the same moment Luna and Twilight began to feel the approach of the newcomers, then the entire beach.

The Muses whispered and stared. The players paused their game. Those beneath the awnings shade sat up straighter.

They all stared at the same point in the water. Waiting. Watching. Anticipating.

Keen eyed Fluttershy was the first to spot him. She gasped and pointed to a slightly darker splotch of water just before a stallion came strutting out of the sea.

He was tall, with the lean strength of a pony who lived a very active life. His bronze coat shone with a lustre that would have been incomparable, if not for the plethora of alicorns already on the beach who shone just as brightly. The ocean waters dripped like jeweled beads from his legs and barrel as he made his way out of the waves. A casual flick of his broad wings and a shake of flowing golden mane sent the last droplets flying around him in a sparkling curtain.

“Well, we are all doomed,” Hades growled through his teeth, his posture going from one ready for battle to defeat.

“You know him?” Luna asked, indicating the new arrival with her practice sword.

“That’s my—”

“Brother!” Zeus bellowed, leaping across the sands in a single, great bound. “Poseidon, you old waterhorse, what are you doing here?”

There was a thundering clap as the two alicorns met and proceeded to slam their barrels together.

“Thought I’d check up on you and the ol’ sourpuss,” Poseidon waved to Hades, “and catch up on things. I see your search went well, bro.”

“Indeed! There was battle and war and adventure aplenty! We shook the very heavens with our travels. Demons were felled, nations shattered, and love was found! Grand tales were crafted by all! You should have come with us.”

“Nah, bro, all that battle stuff is your scene, not mine. Besides, I couldn’t leave my Amphy alone with the girls” The newcomer chuckled.

“Ah, yes, indeed.” Zeus nodded as if it were the most logical of things. “Is she with you?”

Poseidon let out a wheezing sort of laugh. “Of course I brought her and the little ones. Didn’t I just say I couldn’t leave them behind?”

Underneath his dark coat, Hades paled. “If Amphitrite is here as well, then so must…”

At the same moment Hades completed his thought, the waves burst upward and a veritable army of fillies and colts came bounding up onto the sands. Hundreds of little alicorns poured towards the beach party, their laughter and hooting forming an incredible din. Dozens broke off from the main body of the assault, making bee-lines towards Zeus, Hades, or just the nearest alicorn in general.

“Hades… what is this?” Luna took a couple steps back, wings thrusting out as the nearest division of foals approached, heads lowered as they hooted and laughed.

Sighing, Hades shook his head, with just enough time to say, “My brother is the God of the Sea and father of the Rivers, and this is his family,” before the horde was upon them and they were surrounded by poking hooves, curious giggles, and delighted shrieks.

To one side the Muses were corralled together, on another there was Celestia and Rarity, almost buried beneath foals, while in the center Zeus romped and laughed with a half dozen of his nieces and nephews astride his powerful back.

All seemed lost, and then Amphitrite herself appeared from the water, her pace both hurried and stately. Around her in swaddling hung her three youngest, the little foals squealing and waving their tiny hooves. Sea foam blue, with a mane white like the reflection of the sun on the top of a wave, she was a short, pudgy mare, with rolling flanks and happy, easy going yellow eyes.

“Children,” she said in that decided tone all children knew to respect, bringing order to the thronging chaos. “What were you told when we left?”

“If we don’t behave, father will wash us back to Gaea and there will be none of the iced cream that Scymandra told us about,” the foals intoned together in rote precision.

“Very good.” Amphitrite gave her three hundred and four children a smile. “Now, play nice while I speak with the Sun. And remember; Mother sees everything.”

“This is terrible.” Hades intoned in lifeless defeat, his eyes tracking the horde’s dispersion while Amphitrite strode up the beach towards the rather shocked group beneath the awnings. Only Rarity had maintained her wits, and she greeted Amphitrite as an old friend.

Stifling a laugh, Luna gave Hades a nudge. “They seems pleasant. A little… odd, perhaps, but not bad.”

“No, you don’t understand. Hera, Poseidon, Zeus and I, we are siblings by the bonds of our deeds, and the strength of our… commitment, I suppose. There was nothing the four of us could not do together. But… Zeus and Poseidon… What happens when a storm meets a warm sea?”

“You’re saying they fight?” Twilight frowned and fiddled with her practice sword, while also trying to keep it away from a trio of curious, bright pink colts.

“Oh, I would welcome them fighting!” Hades lamented. “This is so much worse. They,” his upper lip twisted in distaste, “encourage each other.”

Watching the pair further along the beach go rushing off into the waters, Twilight asked, “But, how much trouble can they cause? Zeus is still keeping his magic suppressed and—”

Twilight had not finished her thought when, on the crest of a mammoth wave, appeared Zeus and Poseidon, the pair riding boards on the surf, manes flying wild in the wind and sea spray as their booming laughter carried far across the land.

Then, came the sound of steel drums carrying over the din of laughter.

Followed by the Muses being propped up on a stage—from whence the thing had come was a mystery greater than the origins of reality itself, though Hades strongly suspected The Pink Menace’s involvement in the matter.

A dozen shields appeared at the same instant. The great wave broke on their multicoloured surfaces, sending Zeus and Poseidon pinwheeling through the air to land upside down in the boughs of the palm trees. Water sprayed high, and combined with the flickering motes of aether from the shields to create a firestorm of dancing lights to the delight of the onlookers.

“Ha-ha, I win again!” Zeus proclaimed. “I went farther than you!”

“No way, bro,” Poseidon countered, “I flew much higher!”

“Rematch?” They asked at the same time before flinging themselves back towards the calming seas.

Hades groaned and rubbed his temples to suppress the oncoming headache. Deciding that it was safer dancing on the edge of an angry volcano than staying on the beach, he made to return to Thornhaven. He’d gone no more than a few steps when Luna cleared her throat.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She demanded, affixing him to the spot with just a look.

“Well, I thought that…” Hades searched high and low for a plausible excuse, but none presented itself.

Then the worst happened.

Small hooves tugged on his tail to gain his attention, and when he turned to spy a trio of his nieces, they asked in perfect unison, “Uncle Hades, are these your wives?”

Luna put on a mischievous smirk, while Twilight sputtered and waved her hooves wildly.

“No! Oh, no, no no! Nope. Not ever. No!” Twilight shouted.

“I think she doth protest too much,” one filly said to the nods of her sisters and brothers.

Hades’ hoof certainly did not twitch in a reflexive face-hoof. No, it made the full journey without delay, running down his long face as Luna’s smirk grew rather malicious indeed.

All of his worst fears were coming to pass.

His brothers antics and games continued to grow wilder and wilder. One of them had summoned a kraken for them to take turns wrestling out in the bay. His nieces and nephews knew no bounds to the amounts of embarrassment they could heap on his withers. And now Luna joined in as well. To top matters off, they’d started to attract the attention of the others.

While Celestia gave them a curious look, Luna slid up to Hades’ side, a protective wing extending over his withers. A wolf standing over a wounded foal would have been only half as frightening as her in that moment.

“Twilight, I thought we weren’t going to keep this a secret any longer?” Luna said, her voice purposefully loud so as to reach the group beneath the awnings. “Isn’t that right, shnookums?”

“‘Shnookums?’” Hades and Twilight repeated together, drawing delighted gasps from the foals.

Jumping up from where she’d been conversing with Celestia, Amphitrite rushed over. “Is this true?”

True to her vicious nature, Luna went in for the coup-de-graces, and kissed him on the cheek. It was a chaste kiss, hardly worthy of note, except when beneath the delighted smiles of Celestia, Rarity, and Amphitrite. They were not alone, as almost everypony on the beach had gazes fixated on the scene.

The Muses clapped their hooves and broke into a soulful love ballad, accompanied by a guitar and saxophone, breaking into rousing choruses that swelled up to the the sun.

Something in Hades snapped in that moment, and everything he’d held as right and true came tumbling down. Perhaps this was a good thing, perhaps not. The God of the Dead had always been a grim, dour fellow, one on whom a smile was as foreign as a fish in the desert. Right then he laughed, fully and with a gusto that matched the tell-tale laughter he was so accustomed to hearing from his brothers.

He reached out with a wing, shocking Luna who’d expected him to pout and further deny the assumed relationship. Her amazement only grew as he stole a kiss from her, proper and full, savouring the taste of her lips while the fillies and colts alternately made disgusted noises or cooed further in delight.

“It sure has taken you long enough,” she whispered when he broke the contact.

“Well, I can be rather self-involved and thick headed,” he replied, then cringed at the frothing bay where the wrestling had started to grow dangerous. The younger foals had been corralled away from the waters, lest they get hurt by the smashing swarm of tentacles. “Excuse me a minute, but somepony has to knock some sense into my brothers…”

He flew across the beach, arriving just in time for Zeus to begin his turn with the beast. The Muses had abandoned their singing and taken refuge beneath their mothers’ wings, while the Rivers clustered up next to the tree line. A few of the older alicorns shouted at Zeus and Poseidon to get rid of the kraken, but most merely waited for the two to get tired of their game.

“Brothers, you need too—” One of the kraken’s many legs smashed down next to Hades, burying almost to the chin in a deluge of sand and slime.

Shaking out his mane and wings, Hades grumbled, “Fine, we’ll do this the your way.”

Jumping up, he landed atop the kraken’s large, bulbous head, right between its massive, rolling eyes.

“Hades, wait your turn!” Zeus called from where he darted and latched onto the flailing legs.

“If you two can’t contain yourselves, then I suppose I will make you understand.” Hades grabbed the snapping, beaked monstrosity by one of its flailing tentacles, spun it about, and hurled it far into the distance.

Over the Marlantians—not to be confused with Marlantis itself, which lay some many miles further away—the kraken flew, trailing a plaintive, whining cry and a cloud of ink. It hit one of the St. Posey islands, bounced across the next, and then—much to its own relief—sank back into the safety of Ioka’s oceanic depths.

Landing in front of a put-out Zeus and wildly grinning Poseidon, Hades jabbed a hoof at his brothers. “Play games all you want, but have some respect and consideration for everypony else. The foals can’t enjoy the beach with you two conjuring up tidal waves and sea-monsters to sate your own sense of fun.”

“Bro… I think Hades just won, for once.” Poseidon chuckled, and slapped a slime covered hoof to Zeus’ withers.

“Ha-ha! Too true!” Zeus’ habitual laughter rolled over the beach, and signalled a return of the festive atmosphere.

Stalking back up the beach, Hades returned to the spot he’d claimed hours earlier, turned to Luna, and said… nothing. He had few words, and enjoyed just being in her presence.

Author's Note

Author’s Note: This story is just a fun little silly thing I put together, and should not be taken as indicative of where Myths is going. It has been sitting half-finished since last summer.

The sillier, Zeus-Poseidon aspect came about after having the idea of Poseidon being a stereotypical ‘surfer-dude’, and him getting along too well with Zeus. The more Hades-centric aspect came about when I finished it in an afternoon on the 1st of June. His part can be summed up as me rebelling against one of my oldest notes. That which reads, 'Under No circumstance ship Hades and Luna. You are no where near capable of pulling it off, so don't go there.'

It is un-edited, so please excuse the poor grammar.

Queen to Queen

Queen to Queen
By Tundara

Chrysalis sat in upon throne, weary and broken. Hidden deep within her hive, such as what remained, chin on her hoof and eyes half-lidded, she listened to yet another drone explain in fits and stops how it had failed to collect any Love during its latest excursion. The excuses were the same as those given by the previous dozen drones; there were simply not enough ponies within the surrounding lands, and those few that did call it home either had been drained, or grown wary of strangers, turning the collectors away.

Many of the drones around the throne room were in some state of Love deficiency. Wings dangled in limp sheets and their blue eyes lacked a previous vibrancy. Dull and listless, they hung around the hall’s edges like broken dolls, draped over ledges and outcroppings dotting the walls. The weakest changelings couldn’t lift their heads and had to be dragged away to the lower chambers where they inevitably expired.

Even Chrysalis suffered, perhaps worst of all. She was a crippled queen following her failure in Canterlot, both politically and physically. Her beautiful wings were gone, burnt to ash by Cadence’s spell, and she’d forever move with a limp. Aches radiated down her back from her landing in the Everfree. If not for using the last of the magic she’d stolen from Cadence, Chrysalis would have perished that day, along with dozens more of her changelings. That she’d managed to preserve even that small number astounded her still.

She gritted her teeth thinking of her many failures that day, and how so few of her drones and chevaliers had survived. It wasn’t just the cataclysmic conclusion to the invasion. Far more had died on the wretched journey south back to the hive, their love syphoned off so that others could continue. Off the several thousand that had followed her expedition north, barely two hundred managed survive the march back to the hive.

At least her precious Polyphenic had listened to her and remained in the hive during the invasion and avoided being maimed or killed. With the princess were only the drones tending to the hatchlings. Enough that the hive wouldn’t be lost to the dusty pages of history, but it would be generations before even a third of its former strength was regained. And that was only if a fresh source of Love could be found.

If only her daughter were older, Chrysalis would have abdicated the hive and found a quiet place to await her end.

But, Polyphenic was far too young and inexperienced for such responsibility. There was so much Chrysalis had to teach her daughter still, and her pride demanded that when the hive was passed on that it be in a position of strength, not dilapidated and barely hanging onto survival by the tips of its fangs.

So lost in her thoughts, Chrysalis hardly noticed the scratching at the back of her head, just beneath the plates of her carapace, like a boney wingtip running down hear brain. The air in the throneroom, already heavy with a thick, humid musk, pressed down on her back. A few of the livelier changelings twitched and scraped their legs together, creating a long chittering song similar to that of crickets, but with a deeper thrum.

Brought out of her contemplations, Chrysalis was struck by a heavy blow to the depths of her being. Carapace prickling, her eyes darted to the darkest corners of her throne room. Where before she found the shadowed nooks a comfort, now her addled mind conjured all manner of monster lurking within the velvet folds of darkness. Eyes, she could sense eyes of some unknown, formless terror staring back from every alcove. Breath catching in her throat she hovered on the edge between lashing out and running to her inner chambers to hide beneath the threadbare silk sheets.

A groan came from the throne room’s doors as they were pushed open. The panic rose, and with great effort, Chrysalis swallowed the bitter emotion. A burning glare leveled at whoever was so foolish as to intrude into her domain, Chrysalis snapped, “Who goes there?”

Polyphenic poked her head through the gap, banishing the knot of anxiety in Chrysalis’ gut.

Not all of the anxiety, however. And her heart was racing again before Polyphenic had slipped fully into the throneroom.

She was a slight nymph, thin legged even by the standards of changelings, a mop of unruly blue mane perched just behind her oddly straight horn. Green eyes flecked with gold darted over the drones and up to Chrysalis, concern flashing in them that was enhanced by the snaggle toothed frown she wore. That worry was quickly subsumed—it was unbecoming on the hive’s future queen—as she fully entered the hall.

“Mother? I mean, Your Majesty?” Polyphenic called, her voice uncertain and slight. It only reached Chrysalis thanks to the unnatural stillness within the chamber.

A roll of Chrysalis’ good leg signaled for Polyphenic to approach.

“Your Majesty, there is a… pony, I think, here to speak with you.”

Chrysalis raised a brow and put on a little smile at how her daughter kept glancing from the door to her. “A pony? Here?”

Perhaps their Love needs would be met, if for a day, after-all.

“Well, I think she’s a pony. She looks like one… but…” Polyphenic bit her lower lip, a habit that reminded Chrysalis of her long dead mother without fail. “She feels… wrong.”

Ideas and new fears ran through Chrysalis as she propped herself up on her throne. Was the pony a spy? Somepony foolish enough to think it possible to join the changeling hive? How had the pony even found the hive? They were deep within the badlands, beneath the burnt wastes of ash. Half of Chrysalis’ hive used tunnels built by the ancient Tenochdeerlan, before their entire civilization was incinerated by Sol landing atop their great city. The area was inhospitable to almost all life. No pony ever ventured into the badlands, terrified of the ghosts said to roam the ever changing desolate grey sea.

The one saving grace the location boasted was security. If that was compromised…

Chrysalis shook her head. Fretting wouldn’t provide answers, and so she called out for the pony to enter.

She immediately found that even her worst fears paled next to who stepped through the door.

Though it—she—appeared as a pony, Chrysalis’ visitor most certainly was not a member of the race. Long of leg, with her head held in an imperious angle, the visitor strode past the ranks of changelings as if they were naught but gnats. Her tail seemed to be made from braided seaweed, little streaks of dark blue veins throughout, and her mane put up in a bun held by coral pins. Horns of the giant erlands of central Gryphonia sat beside her ears, perched just above eyes of a striking emerald. Wings hovered against her side, the tips extending to a cutie mark of an eye encircled by a snake.

Through the thick walls of the hive, the visitor’s presence was enough to make Chrysalis’ carapace itch, and drip fear into her mind. Standing at the heart of the throne room, she exuded waves of madness, pure wrongness assaulting the minds of all who beheld her. Supreme power fairly oozed through the air, forcing the drones deeper into the shadows, unable to lift their gazes from their hooves. The weaker willed among them began to babble and froth at the mouth, eyes rolling into the backs of their heads.

Chrysalis had heard legends passed down by her mother of the dreadful Queen of Envy. Fearful whispers only, for to speak her name was to draw ill omens of the worst sort upon the speaker. There was no-one else the visitor could have been but Leviathan.

“Queen Chrysalis.” The way her name flowed from through the chamber made Chrysalis shiver. It was as if Leviathan had caught a grasshopper in a jar and she were contemplating whether to release her prize, or remove its legs for fun. “You’ve been a very ambitious little changeling; attacking Canterlot, poisoning Celestia, syphoning Cadence’s power. Why, if I did not know better, I might almost suspect you were trying to steal my toys.”

“I assure you… wait, toys?”

Chrysalis wasn’t sure why that description tripped her up. Perhaps it was the absurdity of the image of Leviathan sitting in front of a toy box playing with little Celestia and Cadence dolls. Or it might have been the happy, playful lilt to her tone, as if she both approved and was disappointed at once.

Walking in slow strides around the throne room, Leviathan continued as if Chrysalis hadn’t spoken at all. “I’m just curious what you thought to accomplish. Would you have taken over the role of raising and lowering the sun and moon each dawn and dusk? I can tell you now, you would have failed even if you had possessed all of the power on the disc. Sol and Selene can be very stubborn. This is assuming Luna hadn’t taken your head the moment she realised what you’d done to her sister and daughter. Trusting her to stay moping in Neighpon while you attempted your little coup; it is as if you wished to fail.” Leviathan stopped at the base of the short steps to Chrysalis’ throne and the waited for something.

It took Chrysalis a moment to understand that Leviathan was waiting for her to bow. Gritting her teeth, and having to bite down a shrill scream and running, Chrysalis forced herself from her throne, chitin creaking along her bad hip. The bow was short and sloppy, a murmur rippling through the hall from her changelings.

“Much better,” Leviathan purred, skipping past Chrysalis to plop herself on the throne, wings extended to form a feathery cape as she lounged over the legrest, chin resting on a hoof. “It is so nice to see common courtesy still exists. Oh! This is lovely.” Leviathan wriggled around a little and cooed. “I may have to add this to my collection. It has a wonderful, worn feel to it. How many of your ancestors sat in this throne? A dozen? Two dozen? Yes, this has been made into a most comfortable and historic throne indeed. Mmm, just delightful.”

Teeth grinding together, Chrysalis wished to yell for Leviathan to vacate her throne. Oh, how she wanted to order the interloper to leave. But the words lodged themselves in her gullet, never to be spoken.

Unfortunately, Polyphenic was not so wise nor old enough to know better. Or, perhaps she was less affected by the ancient demon’s presence. “Hey, that is the Queen’s throne.” Her high pitched voice squeaked. “Not yours! Get out of it.” She followed up with a stamp of her hoof and marched up until she reached the base of the steps.

Proud and terrified for her daughter, Chrysalis began to sputter apologies and excuses, only to be cut off with a stern hoof.

A grin far more dangerous than any glare grew on Leviathan’s muzzle. She slid from the throne with a long purr. “Not my throne, you say? Well, then it shall be no-ponies.” Quick as a cobra, her hind hoof snapped out and sent the throne, a giant piece of solid obsidian, flying. WIth a great bang it shattered against the far wall, debris scattering across the hall, pinging off Chrysalis’ and Polyphenic’s chitin. “Come up here, child,” Leviathan said to Polyphenic through the following silence, waving a hoof for the little princess to approach.

Polyphenic glanced towards Chrysalis for guidance. Every instinct she possessed screamed at Chrysalis to teleport Polyphenic somewhere safe. She had just enough magic and Love left to get her daughter to the edge of the badlands. Polyphenic would be alone, surrounded by hostile lands, and with little training in infiltration or much beyond the most basic aspects of being a queen; but she’d be alive.

For how long, though?

Denying Leviathan anything was beyond unwise. There would be no hiding from her, and when she caught up to Polyphenic, the consequences would be most dire. Death would be the merciful outcome.

Swallowing her bile, Chrysalis gave her daughter a nod. Were she at the heights of her power, Chrysalis wouldn’t have hesitated to rebuff Leviathan. Perhaps to her doom. Perhaps not. Drained of love and crippled there was no chance of winning.

They had to play along.

It was the only hope the hive had of surviving the day.

“What a cute little grub you are.” Leviathan cooed and pinched Polyphenic’s cheek when the princess slowly approached. “I could just eat you. A little tartar sauce, maybe some spring beans, and yes, you’d be just lovely. Raw or fire roasted, however? Oh, decisions, decisions. Slow roasted. Yes, with a bit of lime and cracked peppercorn. Mmm, I’m starting to get hungry.”

Out darted Leviathan’s forked tongue to wet her lips, eyes lingering on Polyphenic a few seconds longer before she abandoned the princess and marched in a wide circle around the royal changelings.

“Sadly, I don’t possess the time to stay for a proper feast. Having to come here at all puts so many plans in jeopardy. Equestria can not seem weak. Not yet. And, after your little stunt, the sharks will be smelling blood in the waters. Hackney in particular is liable to leap into things far too early. You’ve made a mess of two thousand years work, changeling, and that puts me in a very foul temper. If I had imagined Celestia would grow so complacent as to be bested by a mere parasite such as you…” Leviathan trembled, a wave of anger rolling from her back and twisting the drones into maddened convulsions.

Chrysalis’ face ticked as she forced herself to withstand the onslaught. Her defenses were bolstered at the pride of Polyphenic weathering the mental attack with only a slight jitter of her wings. A lesser princess would have broken down in a blathering, weeping wreck under such pressure.

Either not noticing, or not caring, for the effect she were having, Leviathan continued, “Well, no point crying over slaughtered lambs.”

Leviathan widened her circuit around the throne room, touching the worn columns with a wingtip as she passed. Spiderwebs of corruption wormed their way through the rough stone where her feathers lingered. Sickly, green veins stealing the strength and leaving the columns brittle and creaking.

If it were possible, a cold line of sweat would have been running down Chrysalis’ neck. A few more columns and the entire inner core of the hive would begin to collapse.

At the prospect of her changelings’ destruction, a small kernel of strength broke through the nightmarish fear gorging on her mind.

“Please, Your most Immense and Mighty Majesty, I had no idea that you were even on the disc anymore. All the demons have long since been captured or destroyed by Celestia or various heroes. Nopony has even seen you in many thousands of years. Long enough that it was impossible to tell if you were real, or a myth to serve as a lesson in the ponies silly holy texts. Had I any idea, I’d never—”

“But you did, Chryssy, you did.” Leviathan stomped a hoof, crushing basalt into powder. A furious hiss issuing between her fangs, Leviathan towered over Chrysalis. “I have plans. Plans that you put in grave jeopardy. There is a storm on the horizon, and I can not afford for Celestia to grow wary now. I require her to be complacent and self-assured. To ignore the signs of danger lurking under her nose. To remain so proud and noble on that vaunted throne of hers, high above the disc. So much further for her to fall that way.”

In a flash, the anger boiling behind the emerald eyes of the ancient demon queen was replaced by a curious light of amusement. She threw back her head, letting out a long peal of booming laughter. “Ah, the looks on your faces. I so do enjoy these house-calls. Your predecessors were more combative. Going so far as to attack me. Me! The temerity of your race. They never came close as you, however, to besting the alicorns. I might have been proud, if I were not Envy. That is a joke.”

Flabbergasted, Chrysalis couldn’t provide more than a shaky, hesitant chuckle.

Settling down, Leviathan came up beside Chrysalis, the supernatural aura of dread pervading the air lowering to a barely discernable noise at the back of Chrysalis’ thoughts.

“You actually helped, without realizing it of course. Celestia may be a little more on guard now, but so too she believes that Cadence and Twilight are capable of defending themselves. A third threat in as many years bested. With a slight alteration, all will be even better than before.”

Leviathan reached up and patted Chrysalis on the cheek. Were she capable, Chrysalis would have put on an angry blush.

“Here is what I decree, Chrysalis; On the day the Stars awaken, you will infiltrate Equestria once more. There will be a gala in Canterlot to celebrate the arrival of yet another alicorn. Use what ever means you deem necessary, but you will be at that gala. There, you will find a filly newly adopted by Cadence and that annoyingly dutiful, new husband of hers.”

“A riddle? Stars awakening? A filly? But no name?” Chrysalis snorted, putting extra effort into her distaste. “If you want me to do something for you, I need to know when and to whom.”

Still smiling, Leviathan purred. “Figuring out those answers is part of your punishment. I’ll give another, little hint, it’ll begin as the ponies celebrate all the bundles of joy just arriving. But, I’m not done! Take this,” Leviathan swirled a wing, a midnight black gem appearing before Chrysalis.

The gem reeked of evil and sickly magic of the foulest sort. Hooves snapping up, Chrysalis took the gem. It whispered to her in a voice that left droplets of insanity running down her ears. A wicked, pleased grin formed on Chrysalis’ muzzle.

“What you hold is a piece of Moloch’s throne. My boy has a fetish for foals. He’d not have been able to resist gobbling up your little grub.” Leviathan winked at Polyphenic. “This gem will corrupt the sigil Celestia will place on the foal. Twist it and turn it against who it was meant to protect. Like worms it will burrow into her very essence, and then kill her. The pure and perfect Celestia will be blamed. Cadence and Luna will turn against her. My other plans will proceed unmolested. Oh, and I suppose you’ll have your revenge, as well.”

“And if I refuse?”

A necessary question, even though Chrysalis knew the answer. Not that she had any intention of refusing. Already, plans began to formulate on how to take the most enjoyment as Cadence’s happiness was destroyed.

Rolling her eyes, Leviathan let out a bored snort. “Then I will be forced to expunge you from history. I will consume not just this hive, but every hive. The changelings will cease to be anything but a memory. You will join the deer in whose ruins you have built your own, crumbling empire. Only, I will not make your end quick as Celestia did Tenochdeerlan. I will peel your chitin one plate at a time. And so on, and so forth, yadda, yadda, yadda. You get the idea, I am sure.”

“What if I am caught?”

“I would recommend avoiding that outcome.” Leviathan cackled and clapped her hooves. “Though, if you are, I will be entertained, at least.”

Chrysalis nodded slowly, not looking up from the abomination held in her hooves. With this, she’d make Cadence suffer. Make all of Equestria suffer, as their precious princesses turned on each other. Already, the delicious taste of victory tingled across the tip of her tongue. The nubs of her wings buzzed, and her heart fluttered with joy and the promise of vengeance to come.

By the time she looked up, Leviathan was already gone.

Good. She needed to prepare.

The day the Stars awaken. That could be years, or mere weeks. She had to be ready. Settling on her throne, Chrysalis plotted, while her daughter just shook her head and slipped out of the hall.

Whatever the outcome, dealing with demons never ended well.

Author's Note

This is one of the earlier side-stories I began to work on. For one reason or another it'd get no more than a few sentences, and then be abandoned for months and months. For the longest time it was merely just a bit of back-and-forth fluff between Chrissy and Levi. It was as Queen in Stone was drawing to a close that I struck upon the idea that it was them working together that caused the corruption of the Fostering.

As to how Leviathan was able to predict things so far in advance? That is a subject for another story, perhaps. :trollestia: There is a reason, written in my notes. But, I'll keep it under my hat in case something even better comes about. :twilightblush:

Justice

Justice
By Tundara

Tyr was incensed. Her hooves crashed down with every step. Tension, carried from rigid wings through her neck to the base of her jaw in pulsing steel bands, threatened to snap at the slightest provocation. Pages and guards alike dodged out of her path, shying away from her searing gaze.

Backing out of Princess Celestia’s office, Chronicle was the first to attempt to check her advance.

The old seneschal held up a hoof. The words, “Princess Tyr, if you wish to speak with Her Highness, perhaps tomorrow would be better,” bounced off her, and she swept past him, hurling the doors open with a frame shattering bang.

“Why?!” Tyr shouted, her voice rattling the windows and rustling the closer tapestries.

Princess Celestia did not so much as bat an eye or look up from the work before her. Her quill swished across the scroll, she took a sip of the wine at her side, and then, when Tyr verged on another outburst, finally said, “I did what was necessary.”

Anticipating the response, indeed, it would have been shocking if Celestia had given anything encroaching on a denial, Tyr stomped her way up to the large chair set in front of the desk. The chair, oversized for most any other pony, was plush and hugged Tyr’s long legs. It also meant that her arrival was equally anticipated.

“Why?” She asked again, this time with only a little of the angry magma coiling through her veins to give the question a slight hissing heat.

“It is very simple; your ruling was incorrect.”

“Incorrect?” Snarled Tyr, her wings thrusting out of their own accord. “You were not there in Ponyville to know one way or the other.”

Celestia dipped her head, just a little, into a nod. “You are correct, I was not in Ponyville. Had I been, I would have made the same decision I did today. With all the evidence presented, all the testimonies given, each pony taking their chance to speak; there could be no other outcome.”

“But… Why? Why are you letting him get away with it? What he did was wrong! What Filthy Rich did to those ponies was despicable.”

“In that we are in agreement,” Celestia sighed, letting the weight of the admission fill the large office. She poured herself a fresh glass of wine, and one for Tyr.

Snatched up in her crackling aura, Tyr glared at the glass. She didn’t care much for wine. It reminded her too much of her old home. Placing the wine aside, she dared not hold it long lest her anger shattered the glass, she plunged ahead.

“I don’t understand. If you agree with me, then why let him get away with it? He ruined their lives!”

“But, he did not do anything illegal.” Celestia put extra emphasis on the final word, drawing it out into almost a slur. “There will be repercussions for Mr. Rich and his business associates, make no mistake, but in a legal manner.”

Tyr snarled and thrashed in her chair. The magic hardened adamantite frame groaned beneath her simmering fury. “So, the poor ponies get no justice then? Instead, you sneak and slither as always, and snub his next business deal or land acquisition? That is not Justice! He needed to be dragged into the light and punished. Not, patted on the head and told what a good little stallion he was for being so sick and wicked.”

Tutting, Celestia gave a disapproving frown. “That is a bit harsh, Tyr. Mr. Rich has his flaws, and—”

“Flaws?” Tyr leapt up, her voice reaching it’s original heights. She began to pace, the need to move outweighing any sense of formality, even in this place, even in front of Celestia. She burned with a need to act, to enact Justice.

A primal necessity flared through bone and sinew, commanding that she find Filthy Rich and meet out his deserved punishment. Only then would the burning abate, the droning pleas that filled her ears fade, and she’d know peace.

Instead, she growled, ground her teeth, and continued to pace.

“It isn’t just a flaw to turf orphans out of their home. It is sick,” she spat the words out of the corner of her mouth. “He knew what he was doing. The pain and suffering his actions would bring, and he felt nothing. No, worse, he was happy!

“Happy about all the fresh bits that would fill his coffers. Never mind that he was tearing a family apart. Those fillies and colts, their caretakers, they were a family as true as any acquired through the happenstance of birth; and he was the prime actor in wrenching that family to pieces. They fought him and his cronies. Did everything they could, and came so close to saving their family. They had the money! But, he tore them asunder regardless. With a laugh! The land worth more than their orphanage could give.”

A long sigh rattled from Celestia and she stood to join Tyr. Placing a tender wing across the smaller alicorn’s back, she said in a comforting tone, “They were placed in new homes, some foster, a coulpe adopted, and the rest in other orphanages. As the law proscribed. To the letter, as a matter of fact.” Tyr stiffened, and a flash of crimson rage tinted the corners of her eyes. “I’ve seen to it that they will all find their new homes to be more than comfortable,” Celestia attempted to assuage, but only seemed to stoke the flame in Tyr’s breast further.

Her own gut twisted at her words. In an age past, it very well could have been her on the other side of the desk, spitting fire and accusations, burning with a righteous wrath. Time and experience had long since tempered such foolish notions as there being fairness in governance. Whenever she encountered such flaws and failures, Celestia did her best to correct the law to the best of her ability.

After a thousand years, her ability was well honed, experience giving her a sharp eye at spotting loopholes and ways the law could be twisted.

But, she was not perfect.

“You can’t wash away the stains with wave of your wing, Celestia.” Tyr shrugged off her aunt and stomped towards the door.

Celestia did not respond. There was nothing to say, as it was true.

Tyr stopped halfway across the room and wheeled back, mane crackling about her head in a electrified halo, teeth bared as she snarled.

“You don’t see what I see, Celestia. The grasping tentacles, viscous black tar leaking from their surface, that wrap themselves around the willingly wicked. The wounds across the fabric of Harmony they leave with each step. I hear the cries of those wronged continually. Every act of injustice, whether willful or not, is laid bare to my eyes. What good am I if I can’t right those wrongs? If I must let the sinful walk free? No, I won’t allow that. I can’t. I am Justice incarnate, and one way or the other, I have to see the wicked punished.”

With this, Tyr spun and yanked the doors open, almost tearing them from their hinges with the force of her aura.

Celestia sighed, but did not give chase. She only called out in a soft voice, “Tyr, you have to learn a simple truth; the Law is not always Just. It is the Law. No more, and no less. It has no care about what is moral, right or wrong. Only that it is followed and a civil, ordered society is maintained.”

At the door, Tyr paused and shook her head. Over her shoulder, in a soft voice, she said, “Such cynical logic I can never accept.”

With these parting words, Tyr stormed from the office as she had entered it, the crash of those fine oaken doors ringing through the halls.

Celestia sat for some time staring at the chair Tyr had occupied, her thoughts and heart heavy. The decanter of wine emptied. Chronicle came and went, stacks of paperwork growing in his passage. The ink on her quill hardened.

And, eventually, she stood and made her way the the tall windows overlooking the palace gardens, the castle walls, the city beyond, and then the twinkling light of the towns and villages in the valley further along.

“If only life were so simple that refusing to accept reality denied it being true,” Celestia whispered.

Author's Note

This story came about by a question one dinner last September. A simple, of how would Tyr react to somepony being acquitted by the law when they'd done something unjust. It was written over the next day, and has remained largely unchanged since except for little grammar or spelling edits here and there.

I sat on the story so long as; it's rather short and I didn't want to put it up by itself, and some of the ideas and conversation structure had/have a strong possibility of being in an upcoming chapter of Myths itself. That Tyr-Celestia interaction has grown different enough that the overlap is now mostly superficial, at this juncture.

Ultimately, this is just a little thought experiment and me 'showing my work' on practising conversations and the characters of Celestia and Tyr.

Ambrosia

Ambrosia
By Tundara

Soarin paced back and forth in front of the small door. His wings hung low and jittered with a need to act, but with no idea what that action should entail. Every few minutes Applejack’s screams came tearing through the walls, often accompanied by a litany of curses so vile and heated that it left his ears burning.

To keep from worrying, or wearing a hole in the floor with his pacing, he took to staring out the window on the gorgeous mid-february day shining over the orchard. Snow clung to the branches of the apple trees, heaving hills of white stretching off to the pines of the Everfree Forest. Birds sat in the boughs of the nearest tree, a great old elm planted by Granny Smith when she’d be a filly. They should have been hundreds of leagues away along the edges of the badlands where winter was not spread. A rolling hymn-like song flowed from the swifts, robins, shrikes, and single kingfisher. It was so peaceful, with an almost divine air, in sharp contrast to the mood in the farmhouse.

He chewed on his lower lip a little, and not for the first time since Applejack had gone into labour, he pushed his head just a tiny bit through the door.

On the other side was a large room, whose size was belied by the closely packed ponies within. Despite having removed a cabinet and dresser, leaving only a couple small tables to hold the various towels and bowls of water, it was barely better than standing room only. There the priestesses, nurses, the doctor, a midwife, and goddesses all jostled over the limited space around the bed he and Applejack shared.

High Priestesses River Sparkle and Blessed Harmony conferred in low voices, both watching as their respective deity hovered near the bed at the center of attention. Between Iridia and Faust stood Celestia, her hoof extended to comfort Applejack. Around these five Mrs. Swaddling and Doctor Crown had to maneuver. Meanwhile, the two nurses attempting to help the medicos were shoved up against the walls.

Unhappily, his intrusion came at just the moment Doctor Crown and Mrs. Swaddling shouted in unison, “Out! Out! The lot of you, out!”

“What, even me?” Iridia pressed an indignant hoof to her chest. “I am the goddess of—”

Fixing the much larger mare with a fiery glare, the plump Mrs. Swaddling said, “Ma’am, I don’t give a damn. You take up as much space as two ponies and got no rights to be here. If there be some demon to conk on the horn we’ll get you, make no fuss about that. But you don’t be needed for foaling.”

Mrs. Swaddling shoved up against the trio of goddesses, pushing them from the room with the force of her righteous conviction, and right over top of Soarin. He had to quick step back into Big Mac’s room to avoid being trampled.

Behind the alicorns came their priestesses, River and Blessed more amused than put-out by the turn of events. Celestia had to scrunch herself down to fit through the low ceiling corridor, and even Iridia and Faust could not stand straight.

Between the goddesses Soarin caught only a brief glimpse of Applejack before the door was slammed shut.

Eager for any news of his wife, Soarin decided to follow the royals down to the living room, where they joined Granny Smith, Big Mac, Apple Bloom, and a guard by the name of Flash Sentry.

The guard kept to himself, his entire being focused outward, ears at attention and wings half-extended to react to the first sign of any threat. Another dozen such guards were positioned around the farmhouse, with more in the town. Why so many guards were required had yet to be explained to Soarin. From his time in the army, Soarin knew that there was a reason, and that he’d be told if he needed to know, and no sooner.

Still, it rankled, and pierced him deeper than he would have before suspected. Everypony was keeping secrets, even Applejack.

He couldn’t shake the ominous dread that something was wrong with his daughter. Why else would the Queen and princesses barge in on the birth? Or, was it just because it wasn’t yet foaling season? Applejack conceiving a month early was unusual, and a small part of Soarin wondered if she’d lied to him. The timing did fit Applejack’s version of events, their daughter conceived at the Gala of the Stars celebrating Princess Twilight’s ascension.

But, no matter how often Applejack assured Soarin that he was the father, a tiny part of him worried.

Mouth dry, Soarin sat down next to Big Mac.

“Here,” the giant farmer said offering Soarin a flask filled with strong apple cider.

Muttering thanks, Soarin took a long swig.

Summoning various benches and settees, the royals made themselves comfortable.

“Got kicked out, did’ja,” Granny Smith noted, not looking up from the foal-jumper she was knitting. “Warned you that Swaddling weren’t some fresh faced filly off the train to be pushed around even by the likes of you lot. She’ll see Jackie through this, don’t’cha be fretting.”

“Lady Apple will be fine, of that there is no doubt,” Faust gave a wide grin and plucked up a glass of provided apple juice. “But, it’s imperative the fostering be done as soon as possible before the filly’s power asserts itself. The longer that passes, the weaker the enchantment’s hold. Ideally, no more than a day—two at the most—should be allowed before the ritual is performed.”

“Foster? Ritual?” Soarin looked up.

This was the first he was hearing about any pony being fostered. Didn’t they trust him and Applejack to raise their own foal? And what was all this about rituals?

“What are you talking about?”

Faust blinked a couple times, then struck a hoof to her head. “Of course, she didn’t tell you. Applejack needs to stop avoiding emotional confrontations.”

Taking up from her mother, Celestia explained. “Your daughter is special. Not in the usual ways all foals are special to their parents, or even for her mother being an Element of Harmony—”

“Though that certainly would be a factor, without the present circumstances,” Faust quipped.

“—but because she is—”

“The once and future goddess of Agriculture and the earth,” Iridia finished, and Celestia rolled her eyes at the interruptions.

Soarin blinked, and looked between the queens and princess waiting for one of them to indicate they were joking. When it was apparent they were earnest, he asked, “You mean, she is a…?”

“Alicorn, yes.” Iridia inclined her head in a slight bow, then frowned, and said, “Applejack did not tell you that either, I gather. For being the Element of Honesty, that mare sure loves to keep secrets.”

“She simply wishes to avoid hurting anypony, and so she attempts to a steer clear of confrontation.” Faust shrugged.

“You are going to take her away,” Soarin concluded, growing rigid with anger.

If not for Big Mac laying a huge hoof on his shoulder, or the fact each alicorn was over twice his size, Soarin would have started to shout warnings about what would happen to any pony who tried to lay a hoof on his daughter. As it was, Soarin vibrated in his seat.

His anger was misplaced. Faust giggled, and Celestia shook her head.

“There is no need for that. Fostering in this instance means we’ll use a spell to repress her divine nature until she comes of age. Just as was done to Twilight, Cadence, Luna, and myself.”

“So, which would you prefer? Earth, pegasus, or unicorn?”

“Wait, unicorn?” Soarin tilted his head. “Why would… No, nevermind. Why not none? Just let her be herself?”

“Then she can not remain with you.” Faust spoke with absolute certainty. “If left un-fostered, it will take her, roughly, a hundred and twenty years to discover her domain. In that time there will be three attempts to foal-nap her by cults thinking to follow in Sombra’s hoofsteps and syphon off her immortality. After the third attempt, it will be decided to send her to Gaea, where a religious war will be sparked between the surviving factions of Demeter’s followers.”

“Y-You are kidding, right?”

Giving Saorin an amused smirk, Faust said, “Mostly. The vast majority of possibilities within the Weave are filled with difficulties. Not cultists, true. Rather, she will remain a filly as you and Applejack grow old and pass away. Not just you, but cousins, their foals, and their foals’ foals. Ioka made the Fostering pact with my sister and I for different reasons. However, it serves an excellent purpose here. Just, be sure to tell her the truth before the mountains are awakened. It is on the lower spectrum of possibilities I’ve foreseen, but if the mountains cross the Heartlands and enter the ocean, then all the disc is in peril, and you will never see your daughter again.”

Faust’s eyes glowed gold as she touched the Weave, peering down the strands, seeing how they could intertwine, and catching glimpses of what may come to pass.

“The Canterhorn rises, and the great city on her back is sloughed off like an unwanted saddle. Each step is an earthquake, every breath a sorocco, and her dozen eyes burning windows to the pits of Tartarus. She towers above all, titan to titans, the unstoppable juggernaut of a new era, drawn by the screams echoing in her volcanic heart. Dragons tremble as a mouse in the shadow of a lion at her passing. Her sisters wake at her approach. Seven mountains, seven sisters; all guided by a terrible purpose. Cities crumble in their passage, and their roars silence even the stars. Ioka bellows in pain; then all is silence.”

“Mother, can’t you have a happy prophecy for once?” Celestia sighed, shaking her head.

“If you think these are bad, you should hear the ones if Zephyr is with her.”

Overwhelmed, and more than a little frightened for Applejack, his daughter, and for Equestria, Soarin rocked back in his chair.

For not the first time, Soarin wondered why he had to fall in love with Applejack. She drove him crazy, and not just because of her little quirks. Every time she was called away in the service of Equestria, Soarin worried that it would be the last time he’d see her, hold her, get to softly whisper her name and smell the apple fragrance of her mane as they lay together. Two years they’d been together. Two years, and he’d lost track of the number of times she’d been called on to protect Ponyville, Equestria, or the disc.

As he twisted in his thoughts, a long, shrill scream came from upstairs.

Soarin was on his hooves at once and half-way to the stairs when he was called back.

“She is fine,” Iridia said, only to be undercut by another scream.

He bounded the rest of the way up the stairs in two leaps, wings propelling him towards the bedroom with breakneck speed. There was no hesitation as he reached the door. It was flung open just in time for the first cries of his daughter. The next several minutes were a wonderful, and frightening, haze.

Vaguely he recalled Mrs. Swaddling speaking, trying to cut through the great deal of noise and activity, then the first, tiny cries of his daughter.

A brilliantly warm glow filled him, more so when Applejack looked up and met his eyes. She was tired, haggard, and crying with happiness.

Hooves barely touched the floor as he went to her side, a wingtip brushing back disheveled strands of her mane. Next to Applejack, a tiny ruddy orange filly wrapped in white cloth was placed. A lock of shocking red mane poked around a small horn, and big, emerald eyes gazed lovingly up.

All the talk of spells and prophecies fell to the wayside. Right then, all Soarin could see was his beautiful wife, and their precious little filly.

“Ambrosia Ceres Apple,” Applejack muttered, exhaustion heavy in her voice.

Soarin’s voice cracked as he nuzzled his wife, and said, “Our little Apple.”

Author's Note

This is one of many little stories that I've worked on here and there for the past couple of years. Loaded it up a couple days ago, and was surprised at how close to finished it was. You can see where I'd be ruminating on various topics brought up by comments and chapters in the main story, Fostering, prophecies, and so-on.

A simple Slice of Life story about AJ and Soarin.

Apologies if the quality is a little low, it is unedited.

Let There Be Night

Let There Be Night
By Tundara

Luna moved slowly about the darkened chambers. Royal blue curtains were pulled tight, keeping out most the offending morning light so only a thin blade cut across the center of the room. She avoided the golden line, upper lip curled in a silent snarl. Every few steps her eyes darted back to it, brow furrowed into deep canyons, a storm raging in the tension of her jaw that occasionally worked its way down her neck and out through her wings.

Invariably her gaze was drawn away, to the corner of her chambers, where it sat. Empty. Untouched. Shimmering veils drawn around an oaken frame. The softest bedding lain with the greatest of care unrumpled. A monument to everything wrong and terrible.

Almost afraid of the thing, Luna approached it. She had yet to get closer than a few steps.

Her heart latched in her throat. Her heart pounded against her chest. A cold, clammy current worked its way from her hooves to her shoulders. Tension flared, and she turned away again with a snarl.

‘This is her fault. This is all her fault,’ seethed a voice in the deepest parts of Luna’s mind.

It was the voice of a filly, high pitched and nasally, and it acted like a filly. The voice had been there for years, for centuries, but never so strong. So insistent. So right. Usually, it just whined and bemoaned everything, chipping away at Luna day by day, year by year, until Luna could no longer hear anything else.

“Be silent. We neither need nor desire thy nefarious council,” Luna growled.

The words felt good. Gave her a target, a place to vent the seething fury trying to tear through her chest.

‘There is no need to be so cold, dear Luna. You know we only speak the truth. We never lie. We did not steal Cadence away like a coward. We did not seal her true nature. Sheer her of her true nature. Hide her heritage. Keep her from you.’

“We said be silent!”

Spinning, Luna lashed out with a wing, catching the edge of her opulent bed and sending it crashing into the far wall in a shower of mahogany splinters, goose down, and linens.

Luna glared in annoyance at her destroyed bed. Fixing it was easy, but she didn’t have the desire. Turning her tail to the pile of wood and curtains, and instead approached the sacred object in the corner.

Her wing trembled as she reached up and touched the simple white painted frame of a crib. Closing her eyes, Luna took a long, trembling breath.

Little Cadence should have been in the crib, swaddled and wrapped so only her round, cherubic face was visible. Sleeping, or giving off those sweet little newborn mewlings, or perhaps even crying. Without her a gaping void was left in the crib, and in Luna.

‘She has so much already: the love of your ponies, poets ink ballads to her beauty, the Sisters sing hymns of her deeds, and the nobles scrape after the merest glance in their direction. With all her fame, power, and prestige, the one thing denied her she stole from you. She could not let you keep Cadence. Not when her own womb is as barren as the sun-scorched Badlands.’

Eyes pressed tight, Luna shoved the offending voice even deeper into her mind.

It would be back. It always came back, louder and meaner than before.

The words continued to rattle in her head, resisting all attempts at being pushed aside like the voice that had given them utterance. Her attempts only made them stronger, louder, more insistent.

A long growl issuing through her teeth, Luna abandoned the crib. She needed to get out of the room. Out of the palace. Away from the tumultuous pain they caused.

With a flash of magic Luna abandoned the Castle of the Sisters. Absolute cold surrounded her as the disc was replaced by unobservable currents of aether. It was only a second she plunged through the total black of the leylines before reappearing on the edge of a plateau half-way up Mount Winter.

The sweeping expanse of Equestria’s Free Lands lay beneath the mountain to the west, grasslands and rolling hills, and little more than a sparkling speck in the distance, the palace from which Luna had just come. Across a narrow valley to south rose the sharp towering edifice of the Canterhorn, a single switch-back trail leading up Notre-dame de la Chanson, the temple built half on a ledge, and half into the holy mountain. Luna snorted at the temple and quickly turned her back on it.

She focused on the squat castle that was her destination. Unlike the Castle of the Sisters, Moonstone Castle was purpose built for defense and the taming of a wild land. Before Celestia and Luna took their thrones, Equestria had been pressed on all sides by hostile lands filled with all manner of beasts. The Free Lands that were now dotted by farming villages and towns had been home to manticores, chimeras, and hordes Diamond Dogs, and Moonstone Castle had been the bastion to hold them at bay and keep the ponies to towns to the north and east safe.

Where before Equestria depended on legions of soldiers and knightly unicorn orders to keep itself safe, now it clung to the protection Luna granted. Her, and the Nightguard she trained.

‘All while spurning you. While turning their noses up at your night.’

“We have discussed this many times,” Luna said under her breath. “I keep the night safe so they may rest and labour under sister’s day.”

‘Lie to yourself all you want, but we both know to whom they sing praises, and whom they glare in suspicion. They never see the monsters you drive away, and instead blame you and you alone whenever one manages to slip through the cracks. Such as with the Doshaa.’

“Diamond Downs is outside Equestria’s purview,” Luna countered as she trotted towards the square gatehouse with its black banded iron doors. “It is not our fault Smart Cookie’s wards faltered.”

‘No, but they would have suffered less if they’d prayed to you and not her for salvation.’

Clicking her tongue, Luna shoved both the door open, and the voice back into silence.

Briskly, she swept through the cold, narrow hallways of Moonstone Castle. The former main hall of the keep, once a place where the Counts of Moonstone presided over the lands beneath the castle, had been refurbished into a training hall. New recruits to the Nightguard sparred under the watchful eyes of veterans members of the order, receiving instructions on how to fight the monsters that plagued ponykind. And, occasionally, from Luna herself.

Comprised entirely of the batlike Zbori splinter-race of pagasi, the Nightguard were even more ostracized than their mistress. Superstition created an impenetrable barrier between the zbori and the rest of ponykind. Maligned as vampires, the zbori were held at hooflength lest their ‘taint’ be infectious.

Luna promises that the zbori were no different than anypony else fell on deaf ears, and Celestia maintained a silence on the issue even after more than a century.

‘Of course she stays silent. They are loyal to only you, and not her.’

“Your Highness!” cried a dozen zbori as they dropped into deep bows at her arrival.

Only the commandant broke out of his bow while Luna surveyed the gathered knights. He was a grizzled, grey maned veteran of sixty years. Any other pony would have long retired to enjoy the comforts of their hearth in the waning years of life. He staunchly refused, dedicating himself to ensuring the next generation of Nightguard were capable of at least not embarrassing their mistress.

“To what honour do thee grace us with thy presence?” He asked as he took a place at her side.

“Sir Glimmer,” Luna inflicted her voice with just a touch of magic to make it project across the entire hall. As she spoke, she summoned her oldest friend, Tamashi. The odachi rippling into existence at her side then dropping into her waiting aura. “We have come to ascertain thy novitiates’ progress.”

“Do thy mean to test them?” A look of sharp anticipation lit his old eyes.

Keeping her own expression stony, lest it reveal her turmoil, Luna nodded ascent.

One by one she tested the novices. If there was one thing that Luna was regaled beyond her sister, it was her skill with the sword. The martial arts came as naturally to Luna as raising the moon and waking the stars. From the time she’d been a filly, she’d lived a life of adventure and conflict, of flashing steel, burning blood, and wild conflict. The titles piled on her withers were too numerous to recount, from pirate queen to reaver, barbarian to paladin, gained from every civilized, or uncivilized, land.

None of the novices survived more than a few moments against her. They could only provide fleeting moments of distraction. In near desperation, Luna beckoned for all the students to come at her as one.

Tamashi left midnight arcs of curved anti-light with each stroke, her ancient odachi turning aside with ease the attempts of the group to press her from all sides. The first novice she twisted into a flip over her withers. Continuing Tamashi’s motion she hooked the blade’s inner curve through a loose strap in the next novice’s padded barding, hurling him into the next two novices. Wings unfurled and teeth bared, the fifth novice was flung backwards by a strike of the pommel to her face. The remainder fell in equally brutal measures, Luna not having even shifted a hoof.

“Again!” She commanded to the groaning ponies around her.

To their credit, they quickly retook their positions without complaints.

For the next few hours Luna immersed herself in the simple pleasure of fighting. Sometimes she gave herself handicaps such as using no weapon or binding her wings. Other times she mixed spells with her swordsmanship. The first group of novices rotated out to a fresh group just coming down for their turn at training, and Luna continued unabated. Her legendary, alicorn stamina was enough to give even the heartiest Earth pony envy.

Slowly at first, and then in a rush once her presence was spread, other members of the Nightguard filtered into the training hall.

Training felt good. The weight on her remained, but for a time she could focus on the moment. There was only her, Tamashi, and her opponents. She only wished they could give her more of a work-out. Short of finding a loose demon, there was little chance of there being even a modest challenge.

By the time the bells tolled for dinner, everypony but Luna was covered in a thick lather, their bodies sagging with happy weariness. There were smiles, ribald jokes, and conversation as they pointed out mistakes or flaws in each others stances. Even Luna felt a little lighter, her heart if not at ease, than at least calmer for the moment.

It would end. Hiding at Moonstone Castle for the next twenty and one years was a rather poor option. One she did consider, however.

The relief was only temporary.

Her troubles were patient and could wait for years before resurfacing. The Voice rarely gave her such time. And then there was Celestia.

Just thinking about her sister made Luna tighten her grip on Tamashi.

Worse was to come, as the edges of her alicorn senses prickled at the sudden approach of Celestia. Grimacing, muscles tightening along her back so as to make her wings rigid, Luna marched out to the castle’s steps to meet her sister.

“Lulu! We have been most concerned for you all day. Thy sudden departure has been a heavy weight on our heart all this day,” Celestia called as she gently descended from a perfect blue sky. Her landing was equally beauteous, hardly a grain of dirt disturbed as she lightly touched down only a few steps from Luna.

Throat tightening, Luna swallowed the bitter retort she so desperately wanted to give. Instead, she said, “Tis nothing of which to be concerned. We have merely been sparring with our Nightguard. It is most calming.”

“Calming? You continue to amaze, dear Lulu, to claim that fighting can be a balm for the soul.”

Luna shrugged in response, her own feelings, and those of Celestia, well worn on the subject.

“At least it was the training field rather than the bottle to which thee retreated,” Celestia hummed. It was meant to be a joke, a teasing prode, but it pierced already raw skin.

Face flushing, entire body going stiff to keep her anger in check, Luna coldly responded, “These ponies have been here for us, at least, unlike those whom claim kinship.”

“Lulu…” Celestia’s voice trailed off, her gaze downcast, unable to meet Luna’s own stony stare.

Into the gap came the voice. ‘Of course she refuses to meet your eye. What gall it would take to attempt to be your moral equal after the injustices she has perpetuated.’

“Why has thou come here in truth, Celestia?”

Celestia raised her chin a little, the question seeming to remind her of something. She put on her benevolent smile, the one used against the nobles of the court that hid her condescension for the snivelling sycophants. A small flash of magic summoned a letter to her side. An old letter bound in aged silk ties and dried wax that had long since cracked due to time alone.

“This was left in our care by Orange Delight,” Celestia said, an odd note to her voice, almost as if she were reluctant to pass it along. “With instructions on when to give it to thee.”

Luna took the letter with a skeptical frown.

The ancient parchment crinkled in her aura, threatening to distigrate from age alone. Hundreds of years it had waited to be open. To be read.

The words that greeted Luna were both comforting in their familiarity, and grating in the oddity of their phrasing. Luna had never met any pony who wrote in such a manner as the great prophetess Orange Delight, nor speak for that manner. If it weren’t for their long acquaintance, the letter would have been as if written in code, almost indecipherable in its odd turns of phrase and strange conjunctions.

My dear friend,

If you are reading this, then the Night’s ascension is here at last. Celestia has done something truly terrible, and you will do worse. It breaks my heart to know that the two of you have come to such divergent roads. I’ve been seeing this confrontation coming for years. Since before we even met back in that Thulesian swamp. Seen it so many times it has made me sick to my stomach.

Yet, I kept it from you all these years.

Could there have been other options? If I warned you sooner of the events leading to this point would it have made any difference? A few words early enough to change the paths taken so that the road you reached would be one unrecognisable to the one you currently tred. No, we have both been simply actors moving through a play written by somepony else. I tried so many times to nudge you off destiny’s course, and each time it only solidified its hold over us both.

There will be no warnings I can give you that will alter your destiny. All I can say is that I believe that the true you, the Luna buried behind all the pain and loss, will shine through again. That is the Luna that Cadence and all the disc deserves to see, and will see. Telling you when is pointless, only that the time will come.

Goodbye, dear Luna,

Till we meet again in another life.

Orange Delight

PS, Orenda says chitter-chitter yip mrr. That means ‘good luck.’

Upper lip curling, Luna folded the letter, then slid it beneath her royal peytral.

“She knew of Cadence this whole time,” Luna said, her voice oddly flat and lifeless.

Luna heart fluttered with discordant emotions. Anger, shock, horror, and deep, deep betrayal melded together.

‘Or course she knew, and hid it from you behind honeyed words. Just like Celestia. Orange Delight was no friend. Celestia no sister. They were co-conspirators. It was always to her Orange prayed.’

“I will have silence in my own mind, monster,” Luna growled, clutching her head.

‘It has always been Celestia’s fault. Because of her I died. Because of her mother vanished. Because of her—’

“Luna?”

Ice cold fear splashed over Luna, her body going rigid at the first gentle tone of Celestia’s warm voice. She trembled like a shorn sheep on a wintery peak. Breath came in sharp, ragged gasps that hissed between clenched teeth.

“Dear Lulu… Please, do not be angry. The pact with Ioka—”

Ice turned to fire in the heavy thud of a heartbeat, burning through vein and sinnew with consuming purpose. Or, perhaps the flames had merely always been cold, and grew colder still. A devouring chilly flame that burned with hateful desire.

She couldn't breath. She couldn’t think. Her body was numb and on fire at the same time.

‘Here come the honey soaked lies and platitudes. The justifications for stealing away the greatest joy from your life. The deflections from her own envy.’

While the voice sneered Celestia continued to speak, but Luna heard only a general warbling noise come from her sister as the disc bled together. There was only the voice, and her pain.

‘You need not feel this loss, you know,’ the voice continued. ‘You are a goddess, and you can reclaim what Celestia stole and has tried to hide away. She may have mutilated your daughter, bound her to a false fate, and given her to fake parents. But, you can find her. You know you can. You can reclaim what is your due. Have everything your ever wanted. Be a true queen. A proper mother.’

Clarity slammed down on Luna with all the weight of the Canterhorn.

“It comes to this at last,” Luna whispered, head lowered.

When she next looked at Celestia she saw not the sister who’d comforted her when she’d lost her first family to the predation of the griffons. The only pony to greet when she returned home after years of wandering the eastern realms. Whom she’d nursed back to health after Celestia nearly died fighting a demon lord. The sister she’d stood shoulder to shoulder with against the madness exuded by Discord. And the sister she’d meant to rule beside.

Her sister was gone, if she’d ever been there at all.

A tear trickled Luna’s face, and fell with a solemn crystal ring to the floor.

“Luna—” Celestia took a step closer, a wing extended in the offering of a hug.

In a single, swift motion, Luna brought Tamashi down on Celestia’s head with enough force to crater the heavy basalt stone steps used in Moonstone Castle’s construction, and drove a knee into Celestia’s stomach. Air rushed from her former sister, shock more from the nature of the attack than the blows themselves widening Celestia’s pink eyes. She followed up with a sharp buck that sent Celestia careening across the valley towards their mother’s temple on the adjacent mountain.

Luna stood for only a heartbeat in Moonstone Castle’s courtyard. She was committed now. And it felt so good. So liberating.

Finding her Cadence was easy. Even through the curse meant to keep her daughter safely hidden, Luna could sense the alicorn spark in the newborn across the many miles. Were Cadence fostered somewhere distant from the Free Lands, the stars had kept a watchful eye on the mistress’ daughter.

The village selected to be Cadence’s home would not be remembered. No history books held its name.

Luna focused on her daughter, on the pulse of divine essence that flowed through the narrow, muddy streets with each beat of her young heart. This was no place for a princess goddess to be raised.

Around her ponies fell silent and bowed. At least they had that much respect for her. No doubt they wondered what brought the Goddess of the Night to their tiny, insignificant little backwoods village.

She needed to move quickly. Celestia would already have recovered and be on her way.

Locking onto the precise home with Cadence, Luna performed a short teleport, appearing before the small, squat hovel. It was as far removed as possible as the palaces that were Cadence’s birthright. Two, perhaps three rooms, with only a single window and a bent door beneath a sagging thatched roof.

Nose curling at the further insult, Luna made her way inside. The herd that called the place home all looked up as the door was thrust open, protests at the intrusion dying in garbled lumps in their throats. She ignored the peasants, all her focus on the simple bassinet around which they huddled.

Nasally protest sprang up, the First Wife recovering from her shock and making to intercept Luna. A flash of magic sent the mare tumbling into a dreamy sleep. The rest of the herd followed. Without worry of any pointless interruptions, Luna pulled her daughter from the bassinet.

Wonderful, brilliant blue eyes stared up at Luna with innocent purity in a round, pink face. A few stray cream and lavender curls fell from the swaddling around her head.

“Our love,” Lune hummed softly, bringing Cadence up against the side of her face while her daughter let out a sputtering giggle that made her heart soar.

“Luna!” Celestia’s voice rang behind her. “You need to put her back.”

Not turning around, Luna said over her withers, “And why wouldst we deign to listen to thee, dear sister?”

“It is not thy role to raise her—”

“If not ours, than whose?” Luna shouted, rounding on her sister. With a jab of her wing, Luna pointed at the sleeping ponies. “Is thy naivete so great as to believe mortal ponies can raise our daughter than we ourselves?”

Framed in the doorway, cloaked in Sol’s golden rays so as to appear only a shadowy figure, it was hard to make out Celestia’s expression.

Shaking her head, but not advancing, Celestia said, “The bargain with Ioka—”

“Was made by mother, and not either of us. We need not bind ourselves with pacts made by dead gods. Mother is gone, and so too is her pact.” Bringing Cadence closer, Luna took comfort from the small bundle. “We are done Celestia. No longer will we allow thee to steal what is ours by right. The Age of Night beckons. All will know the beauty of our stars and Selene!”

“Sister—”

“Do not call us that,” Luna shouted, her breaths coming quicker and quicker as if she were in the midst of battle. Her face flushed, and her heart hammered against her breast.

‘Yes,’ purred the voice. ‘Tell her the truth. Release all the anger, dismay, and pain she has caused.’

Cadence gave out a frightened whimper and shrank deeper into her swaddling. If not for that moment, Luna may have been able to overcome the Voice, as she’d managed every other time for five hundred years. Eyes locked onto her sister, with the one thing she loved more than anything else so close, and reacting with fear, Luna surrendered herself to the lurking envy.

It was so clear. The voice had been so right. Celestia was a thief. All the glories she claimed stolen from those around her. From Luna.

Now she meant to take Cadence away. Again.

Luna refused to allow it.

Throwing back her head, Luna let out a long sigh. She both shrank and grew, her shoulders slumping in defeat as her legs lengthened. Her starfield mane elongated, curling around her like a sparkling shawl. The feathers of her wings sharpened until their edges were as blades. Fangs parted her full lips, and though she would only see it later, her eyes become slitted like those of a dragon.

‘Let there be night! The psalms of darkness quicken! Let there be night! Now, and forever! Night unending! Night Eternal! And we shall have all their love!’

“And now the sun sets for the final time,” Luna said, a sharp, manic edge in her throat.

With a great heave she forced Selene to raise. Unseen aetherial gears forged in ages past to keep the heavens in order clanked in cloudless thunder as the sun was made to set early. Velvetine darkness swathed the sky as Selene took her rightful place above. The stars burst awake, surprised at the unscheduled arrival of their lunar cousin.

She felt so free! So utterly, completely at liberty.

Tamashi appeared again by her side, the ancient blade hungrily touching her mind as it sensed its mistress transformation. The sword felt lighter than it had ever before, eagerness to match her own resonating through it.

Any further words were pointless. With a howl that scattered the remainder of the village, Luna threw herself at Celestia. To her credit, Celestia was not caught off her guard a second time. A raging ruby-gold shell lept around her the moment Luna summoned Tamashi. Ringing with the tones of a long clarion, blade met spell.

“Luna, please, we can still resolve this peacefully!”

“Luna is gone,” Luna roared, and the words rang true in her head. She abandoned the name, sloughing it off like a ragged cloak torn over long years. Breathing deep the air of freedom, past shackles cast aside, she took up a new name, one far more fitting. “We are what we were meant to be; the Mare of the Night. Yes, that is now our name. We are Nightmare Moon.”

She laughed, no, cackled, and it felt good. And the voice for once purred with contentment.

‘Yes. And all will know us! All will praise US!’

Drawing Cadence in her soft white swaddling closer, Nightmare Moon paced in a slow circle. Celestia mirrored the action, but had yet to bring her own weapon to bear.

“In remembrance of what we once held dear we will grant you a tiny mercy, Celestia,” Nightmare Moon said, her tongue flickering between her teeth to wet her lips in anticipation. “Gather your sycophantic ponies close, oh mighty sun, for the night has only just begun. Gather them so we may crush them before you.”

Celestia made to respond, but the Nightmare took her daughter and returned to Moonstone Castle.

She had her own armies to marshal.

If the clamour and raised voices had failed to wake Cadence, than the biting cold of the aetherial currents tore her from sleep. The sound of her screams were so beautiful to Nightmare as they appeared in Moonstone Castle’s courtyard.

Her daughter.

Her ponies.

Her nation.

Hers, and hers alone

“And now the hour has come at last,” the Nightmare hummed softly as she strode up the steps.

Author's Note

This is a little something I started working on last week as a way to relieve some stress. It is unedited, and a bit rushed, so I expect there to be a few mistakes that slipped through the cracks. More than usual, that is.

I've only ever really has some vague ideas about how Luna's fall into the Nightmare happened. General things like Cadence being Fostered the straw that broke the camels back, as it were.

The story is probably a bit rushed in some aspects, and languishes in others. It is just a little something, in the end. If I took more time on it and was a bit more serious I'd probably cut the letter. Just keep it between Luna and Celestia. Or maybe have more in the palace before Luna goes to train with the Nightguard.

The North Wind's Howl

The North Wind’s Howl
By Tundara

A stiff wind bore down on Stalliongrad’s streets. A North Wind—unusual for the time of year—that brought with it the frigid breath of the disc’s leading rim. In the space of a scant few minutes, the pleasant June day turned bitter with an unnatural chill. The wind moaned in the narrow red-brick lanes of the Earth pony portion of the city, shaking trees and pounding on the windows. It howled in the pegasi clouds anchored above, sending cloud tremors from one side of the city to the other.

Bundling their wings tight about their sides, the pegasi of Stalliongrad hurried to the warmth of their homes. Their ears twisted this way and that, searching for a threat they couldn’t place. Parents gathered their foals and rushed them to safety, all the while scanning the sky.

The wind seemed alive, and angry, chasing them from the streets and the parks. It swept between the tight packed homes, rattling shutters and sending frosty spiderwebs along the corners of windows. The flowers shriveled into their buds, and the birds all hid deep in their nests, afraid of the wind. Old timers peeking out from behind their blinds shook their heads, none having ever seen such a sudden change in the weather.

Within the span of a few minutes the city had turned a ghost-town, hardly a soul visible on the streets except for the members of the Weather Guard. These hardy pegasi rushed to their stations to combat any storms conjured by the unnatural wind. Pinions ached from the heavy magic saturating the winds as it double-backed and swept through the streets again and again. But, no storms appeared, and the wind itself slipped through even the most experienced weather-pony’s grasp.

Flapping their wings hard against another sudden headwind that threatened to tumble them end over end, Prism and Snowy Winter did their best to reach their home at the city’s edge.

The younger sister, Snowy had the most difficulty, her wings only just out of their foal pinions. Tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth, she lowered her head to get under the gusts, just as her mother had taught her, and tried her best to keep up with Prism.

Only doing slightly better than her sister, Prism cursed the stupid wind that had ruined their fun.

It was Summer Sun Day! It was supposed to be the first day of summer! No school for two whole months. Sunny days to race with the other pegasi, or play any and all manner of games. Spring was done, and the capricious winter winds were supposed to be a thing of distant memories of chilly days and warm cocoa sipped in front of the fireplace.

As she cursed and grumbled, Prism noticed a snowflake alight on the tip of her nose. It last only a moment before it melted, but it had undeniably been snow. In the middle of June.

A shiver unrelated to the wind rippled from her nose to the end of her tail.

“You two! You two down there!” One of the weather ponies shouted, cupping their hooves over their mouth to be heard over the wind. “You need to get home right away!”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Prism said between grinding teeth.

Thankfully, her home was in sight.

With every pony length the frigid winds seemed to grow worse. Frost speckled Prism’s fur, and she shivered in earnest against the cold. Her sister had it worse, being smaller and weaker. Several times Snowy was almost bowled over by a strong gust. Dipping down under her sister, Prism shouted, “Hold on!”

Without complaint for once at having to be carried, Snowy latched onto her sister’s back and buried her face into her mane.

Angling upward, Prism carried Snowy above the stampeding north wind, and then made to dive through its bitter cold blasts to reach their home. Her face stung with tears and frost. Heavy blasts buffeted her from side to side, and the winds growled in fury. She barely slowed as she reached the door, slamming it open before bouncing inside. Hitting the soft cloudwall face-first, Prism tossed off Snowy and made to shove the door shut. She expected a struggle, to have to dig her hooves into the floor to force the door shut against the raging winds that now made the cloud city quake with regularity.

Instead, a silver-gold aura grabbed the door, and slammed it shut before the winds could do more than ruffled the curtains in the living room.

Gasping for breath, her lungs burning from the effort of fighting her way home, Prism stared at the door with incongruity.

“What?” She managed to mumble after a few more moments.

Snowy tugged on her exhausted wing, but Prism ignored her sister, unable to fathom how a door could close itself, and in such a wind. Unicorns were unheard of in Stalliongrad, and the idea that it had been a unicorn aura never registered. She’d never seen a magic aura before. The image of the silvery cloud swinging the door shut was more unnerving than the wind had been.

Swallowing a hard lump in her throat, Snowy tugging on her wing with more insistence, Prism edged towards the door, and very gingerly reached out a wing to touch the doorknob.

“What are you doing?” Demanded an unfamiliar voice from behind Prism, making her jump almost high enough to hit her head on the roof.

Spinning around as she dropped into a crouch, Prism found a large, silvery pony standing in the middle of her living room, a screaming foal bouncing in the same silvery-gold aura that had closed the door. A veil of obsidian black mane covered much of her face, with a patch over her right eye, and bandages peeking out at the cuffs of her black, lacey dress.

Briefly, Prism remembered seeing the pony, along with another, dark purple mare, earlier that morning when she and Snowy had been heading out to play. It had been only a few fleeting glimpses in the usual rush to get outside in which she’d done a double take at the size of the two pegasi. The pony was positively huge! Easily a good two hooflengths taller than any other pony Prism had ever seen. What was even more shocking was the honest to Faust horn thrusting like a spear from the pony’s brow. A horn that was shrouded in the same magical aura holding Prism’s youngest sister, Vesper, deep in the throws of a hellish tantrum.

Prism gaped, mouth working silently as she tried to understand what was going on.

“Do you know how to calm her?” The strange horn-esus asked, thrusting little Vesper at Prism. “I can’t get her to stop. Nothing I’ve tried has worked. She even breaks Silence spells cast on her. That shouldn’t be possible!”

Snapping out of her fugue, Prism gave her head a sharp shake. “Only mama is able to calm her. Where is mama? She was here with you this morning.” She had to shout to be heard over her screaming sister.

Guilt made the horn-esus look away, wings settling heavily at her sides. Grabbing a rubber teether, she stuffed it into Vesper’s mouth, creating a brief lull in the constant screaming.

“Princess Twilight has returned your mother to the heavens,” the horn-esus said quickly. “Is there anypony else who looks after you?”

Prism shared a very startled look with Snowy. Tears were forming in her little sister’s eyes, lower lip caught in between her teeth. Turning back to the horn-esus, Prism said, “No. Dad is away on the southern front doing weather patrol and won’t be back till autumn. It was just us and mama till then. What do you mean she was returned to the heavens? Where is mama?”

Right then Vesper spat out the rubber teether and the wailing returned, full-forced and throaty. A long, piercing howl that spurned on the fierce winds outside. The whole house rang with the foal’s anger. Clapping hooves over ears couldn’t block out the ever shiller protests. Crystal cups began to vibrate. The chandelier swung wildly.

Everypony began shouting at each other. Prism gesticulated for her littlest sister to be passed to her. Snowy tugged her ears down and began to join in the screaming. The horn-esus stamped a hoof, and pulled Vesper out of Prism’s reach.

“I can do it! I’m a goddess! I can calm a screaming foal!” The horn-esus declared, but Prism could see the doubt in her purple eyes.

“You’re making it worse!” Prism yelled at the top of her voice, wings flapping as she tried to grab her sister out of the horn-esus’ aura.

“I said I can do it!”

“I want mama!”

“Give Vesper here!”

“No!”

“Where is mama?!”

“Everypony; Quiet!” Cut a newcomer through the clamour.

Magic inflected the simple command, everypony clamping their mouths shut. Prism hovered near the second floor landing. The horn-esus stood on back hooves, wings outstretched to block Prism from reaching Vesper. Snowy huddled next to the couch. And Vesper paused in her screaming as she floated near the chandelier.

In the glowing light of the summer day stood yet another horn-esus, pristine white and radiant. Golden locks cascaded down her neck, and her blue eyes flashed like the surface of a mountain spring. Her bearing commanded respect, while her face was gentle and matronly. A warmth lodged itself in Prism’s tummy, and she felt safe in the newcomer's presence. There was only one pony this could possibly be, though why she was in her house of all places threatened to send Prism reeling again.

“Princess Celestia!” Snowy gasped, then covered her mouth with her hooves as if she’d done something wrong.

The new horn-esus winced, ever so slightly, and corrected Snowy gently. “No, my little pony, I am her aunt, Queen—”

“Iridia! I don’t know what to do!” the first horn-esus—no, alicorn, Prism internally corrected—said breathlessly, floating Vesper towards Iridia. “She won’t stop screaming and summoning the North Winds.”

Reaching out with a kindly wing, Iridia plucked a sniffling Vesper out of the air. “Well, first off, no foal likes being carried in an aura for long. Secondly, you can’t just tell them to stop screaming. You need to be gentle and have love. Come here, little one,” and Iridia began to rock Vesper in the crook of her wing as she softly hummed.

Prism continued to stare, open mouthed, as Vesper struggled at first, then began to calm, and finally fell asleep. Vesper always refused to be quiet until her mother rocked her, yet here a stranger was able to silence her tantrum with only a touch. Iridia continued her lullaby for another few minutes before she ever-so-gently laid Vesper in her play-pen, and laid a favoured blanket over the dreaming foal. A wingtip placed over her lips to indicate the others should be quiet, Iridia tip-hoofed into the adjacent kitchen. Unsure what else to do, Prism, Snowy, and the other alicorn followed.

Before addressing them, Iridia went to the stove and pulled out a platter with a some-what burned fish on it. Tsking, she dumped it into the sink.

“Now,” she said in a voice that was both quiet and powerful, “What happened, Shyara?”

The first alicorn—Shyara—shrank a little, eyes dropping to a rather uninteresting spot on the floor. Prism was well aware of how that particular spot was uninteresting as she stared at it every time she’d done something bad and was getting a good chewing-out. Surprisingly, Shyara’s ears began to droop, and her tail was pulled tight between her legs.

“H-How much do you know?” Shyara dared to ask. Prism winced and rolled her eyes. That was perhaps the worst thing a naughty filly could say to an angry parent.

“Enough, but I want to hear it from you,” Iridia said in the same tone as before. “I am happy to see you are safe and… safe.”

Shyara bristled, defiance flaring in her eye as her wings extended. Wings, Prism now noted, that were missing more than a few feathers. Prism and Snowy both groaned in anticipation, leaning away from Shyara as if to avoid whatever wrath she was about to incur. Surprisingly, Shyara swallowed whatever retort she wanted to give, and instead said, “I did something very wrong.”

“Mm Hm.” Iridia motioned for Shyara to continue.

Shyara shot a quick, scathing look at Prism. Skin crawling, Prism wanted to crawl out of the room, or fly out the window, anything to get away. Gently clearing her throat, Iridia dispelled the compulsion. Prism and Snowy both let out a sharp breath neither had been aware of suddenly holding.

“They have a right to hear this, Shyara.”

“But, they are just mortals.”

Iridia lifted a stern wingtip and gave it a little shake. “Mortals that your games have impacted.”

Again, Shyara stared at that very uninteresting mark on the floor.

“Mrs. Iridia,” Snowy spoke hesitantly when Shyara stayed silent for more than a minute. “Do you know where mama is?”

Sadness crept into the corners of Iridia’s eyes, and she knelt down to extend a wing over Snowy. “Your mother has been sent back to where she was, um, born, and can’t come home right now.”

“Oh. Why?”

“Because she was put under a powerful spell.”

“Oh. … Why?”

Prism face hoofed, though she wanted to know as well. Iridia continued to give her motherly smile, nonplussed by the foalish line of questions. Slowly, Iridia shifted her gaze to the still silent Shyara.

“Sometimes alicorns do things, or say things, or make things happen without fully considering what will happen to the nice, normal ponies of the disc. Remember a few years ago when it was dark for three whole days? Sol just refused to get up and give the disc sunshine?”

Snowy nodded, though she hardly remembered as she’d been so young at the time. Prism remembered. She remembered huddling between her mama and papa as they stared out the windows, or went to the temple to pray to Celestia for Sol to come back. Everypony had been so worried. Grandmama had been beside herself with fright, going on and on about how it was the end of the disc and that the prophecies had come to pass. What prophecies Prism never learned, as Sol came back just as everypony was getting their scardest.

She never wanted to go through anything like that again.

“Did you know, I once made it so that spring never came? For twelve whole years there was no spring or summer or fall. Just winter. A lot of ponies were hurt because of me. But I was very, very angry, so I didn’t think about them. I just thought about hurting the ponies that had hurt me.”

“But, that is wrong!” Snowy declared a little too loudly.

Everypony tensed, ears cocked towards the other room, waiting to see if Vesper had been awoken. After a few moments without any renewed screams they all breathed sighs of relief.

Looking more towards Shyara than Snowy, Iridia nodded, “Yes, it was. It was very wrong of me, so I was punished. I was sent into a very long ‘time-out’ so I could calm down and not be so mean. And now, I have to make it up to the descendants of all the ponies I hurt. It will take me a very long time to do that.”

“I am sorry,” Shyara sniffled, running a hoof across her suddenly runny nose. To Prism’s surprise tears were running down Shyara’s cheeks. Tears that turned into crystals as they fell from her chin. “I’m sorry! I pushed her to fall. I wanted to make her a titan. To make it so everypony would hate her like I hated her! She was so mean to me. She never said she loved me. She never said she was even worried. It was only, ‘As expected of my daughter’, or, ‘You will succeed, as you are my daughter’.

“For a hundred years, that was all she ever said to me. For a hundred years! She only ever looked at me when I was paraded out before the mortals to garner more praise for her! I was just a thing to her! All I wanted was for her to say, ‘I love you’! Why couldn’t she ever say that? Why couldn’t she ever give me a hug? Why couldn’t she ever worry about me? Why did I have to get that from a mortal? And then, why did she take Trixie away from me?

“She was the only pony who ever showed me any love. The only pony to be worried about me because they cared, not because they wanted something from me, or were afraid they’d upset my mother. Trixie was a stranger, and a mortal, and she loved me more than my own mother!”

Shyara curled her mangled wings so tight they trembled. Her jaw grew tense, and her words spat from her with a fiery force. She shook with raw emotion as she laid her soul bare.

Prism saw not an all-powerful alicorn princess, but another scared, lonely filly who just wanted her mother.

“And she didn’t even notice! She didn’t even care! She didn’t even have the same face! She changed her face! She abandoned me! Forgot about me! Didn’t even know who I was! Didn’t care that I was hurt.

“I hate her! I hate that I love her! I despise her! And I need her!”

Shyara choked back a heavy sob, falling to her knees between Prism and Iridia. Prism had no idea what to say or do. Every instinct screamed for her to leave, that this was something she wasn’t meant to hear or witness.

“So, I made her Fall. Pushed her, just a little bit, to do bad things. Things she can’t undo. Things I can’t undo.” Shyara scrubbed at her eyes, crystal tears tinkling like jewels on the tile floor. She looked up at Prism, and there was regret in her one eye. “I made her take away your mother. Even after I saw Vesper, I let her do it. I could have stopped her. But I didn’t because I wanted everypony to hate her as much as I do. Now, your mother is a star and Twilight has cursed her so she can’t fall and come home.”

Prism was speechless. She didn’t know what to say, much less do. It was all too impossible.

Her mother had been turned into a star? Ponies couldn’t be turned into stars!

The room began to wheel about her as if it had been turned upside down. She staggered, and was caught by a white wing.

Wetting her lips, Prism struggled to find her voice. “I, uh…” It was no good. She was just a lost filly, confused why there were a pair of alicorns in her home, with all these tearful confessions and all this talk of stars and stuff and it was just too much.

Snowy seemed to have a better idea on what to do, and hugged Shyara’s leg. “It’s okay. Your mama loves you, even if she doesn’t say it. All mamas love their daughters. That is what my mama told me, so it must be true.”

Poor, sweet, innocent, naive Snowy. Prism was old enough to know that some parents didn’t love their foals.

It was what Shyara needed to hear, as her tears returned, and she shrank in size until she was no bigger than Snowy. She wrapped her hooves around Snowy, and the two sat there, sniffling and holding each other. It didn’t matter that they had met only a half-hour before. It didn’t matter that one of them was a freaking alicorn. They just sat there, hugging each other as Shyara cried.

Eventually the clock struck the hour, and Iridia cleared her throat. “Feel better?”

“A bit,” Shyara admitted, wiping away the last jewel-like tears from her face. “What happens now?”

Iridia arched a brow. “Now? I take these little ones and you to Reinalla, and then send a message to their father telling him what has happened. Let’s see, there is Vesper, Snowy, Prism, and upstairs is Amaryllis. Unusual name for a pegasus. Whatever was my sister thinking giving a flower name to a pegasus? She must end up a gardener, I suppose.”

“Wait, that’s it?” Prism and Shyara both demanded at the same time.

Looking at them as if they were both daft, Iridia shook her head. “Of course not, but it isn’t up to me to punish you, Shyara. That will be up to Twilight and Oropolla, I hope.”

“Your not going to confront her?” Shyara was aghast for some reason, wings jutting out as she bristled. “But, she is a Titan! Every alicorn has to work together to put down a titan, or they will destroy everything!”

“Maybe that is how things are done on Gaea, but this is Ioka, and I trust Twilight. Now, let’s help these nice fillies gather some things.” Turning towards Prism and Snowy, Iridia put on a broad smile that made the corners of her eyes crinkle in a pleasing way. “How would you like to visit my castle for a bit? It is a long way away. All the way across the disc in the Taiga, in fact. I’ve made sure to close off all the secret doors and traps into the caverns, so there is no worry of you getting lost in the catacombs and tunnels filled with diamond dogs. You’ll be able to play with the halla fawns in the forest, and have a wonderful time. I’m sure your mother and father will be along to pick you up in no time at all. Come along.”

Prism could only sputter an incoherent list of objections as she was whisked onto Iridia’s muscular back and nestled right between the queen’s wings. Snowy was placed behind her, with Vesper picked up along with her bassinet—miraculously still asleep—and Amaryllis and her bed floating out of the second story.

Like her littlest sister, Amaryllis slept, trapped in a coma nopony could explain. Iridia clicked her tongue and gently shook her head, and under her breath said, “Oh sister, how you bind my wings sometimes.”

Then, with a forced, bouncy cheer, Iridia asked over her shoulder, “Ready?” and stepped outside before anypony could respond.

The North Wind had calmed while they talked, leaving only patches of frost on windows and in the shade. Ponies poked their heads outside, confused by the capricious weather.

“How did you know to come here?” Shyara asked, the first thing she said since her tearful confession.

Iridia raised a hoof, and pointed to a star just barely visible in the pure blue sky. Her meaning escaped Prism, but Shyara seemed to understand, a soft, “Oh, that makes sense,” her response.

With a swish of her horn, Iridia teleported the small group, carrying them by way of many short hops across the disc, all the way to her forest lands far, far, far to the west.

There Prism, Snowy, and Vesper found a land of wonder in which to wait for their parents.

Author's Note

This story is a thank you to everyone for your support and help. It has meant so much to me. From the bottom of my heart, Thank You.

Inspiration for this story also goes to Kittamaru, who really wanted to know what happened to Oropolla's family following the events of Chapter 19 of Myths.

It makes me feel better to know that my muse is still there, just waiting for me to get the push I need to buckle down and write. I've not written so quickly in a long, long time. It felt like the early days of Myths, before the rewrite, when I'd put out a chapter a week. Pure inspiration and a need to get a story in my head out onto paper. Well, computer screen. Now, I just need to carry this forward into Myths, the Rariad, and the stack of one-shots and side-stories that have been pleading for attention... >.<;;;

Again, thank you so very, very much!

Muses of Hearts

Muses of Hearts
By Tundara

A fine February day dawned on Canterlot to show the streets bedecked in pink ribbons and macrame hearts. Stalls covered with sweets sat on every corner selling chocolates and powdered lokum, while the jewelers made a brisk trade on rings and necklaces. Card shops, decorative flowers, and more all added to the colour as crowds of shoppers readied themselves for the upcoming festival of Hearts and Hooves.

Cadence looked on it all in amusement from her carriage window as she made the slow journey from the train station to the palace.

“Remember when that was you, dear?” Cadence pointed to a young stallion fretting over whether to buy roses from the south or those from the north-east.

Adjusting his glasses, Shining hardly glanced up from his newspaper. “He should get the Crystal Heart Roses,” Shining huffed as he flipped over to the sports section, “everypony knows that roses grown in the Crystal City symbolize blossoming love, while those from Bolton are for reinvigorating love that has grown complacent.”

“Oh, do they now?” A little, amused purr from Cadence was followed by her leaning over to kiss her husband.

A slight snort drew Cadence’s attention to the other side of the carriage.

Tyr leaned back, eyes half lidded as she stared past her parents with a faint frown in the corner of her lips. She’d grown much over the past few years, changing from the little filly that had fallen into Cadence and Shining lives into a long legged, athletic teen. Not a classical beauty like Cadence, Celestia, Fleur, or—especially—Rarity, Tyr was pretty in that strong way pegasi tended to favour, with well defined tone to her flanks and withers and a bold line to her jaw.

Though, comparing anypony to Rarity was unfair, as the Goddess of Beauty was always seen as the most gorgeous pony conceivable, regardless of a pony’s actual taste.

“What’s the matter, Tyr? I thought you were looking forward to seeing your cousins.” Shining snapped his paper shut and shoved it into the crack between his seat and the door.

From her bassinet, the newest member of the family gave a little gurgle and sputtered. Princess Skyla Invictus, destined to become the Goddess of Healing, was a small thing not even a year old, and Shining’s pride and joy. His eyes sparkled like twin stars every time the little foal made the slightest noise.

“Huh?” Tyr snapped out of her thoughts, absently reaching down with a hoof to play with her tiny sister. “What? No, I’m fine. It will be nice to see the Muses. I was just thinking about…”

Her voice trailed off and she gave her head a shake, a slight blush creeping beneath her creamy coat making her face look like a ripe peach.

“You weren’t thinking about a certain Colonel, were you?” Cadence leaned forward, a conspiratorial glimmer flashing behind her eyes.

Tyr snapped upright, blush glowing brighter. “O-Of course not! He’s far too young! B-Barely thirty.” Snapping up her hoof, Tyr jabbed in Cadence’s direction. “And don’t you dare, mother!”

Putting on a sweet smile and pressing a hoof to her chest, Cadence let out a faux gasp. “Are you implying I’d spy on your threads? I would never do that to you.”

A snorted laugh from Shining made Cadence shoot him a playful warning. It certainly would have been easy for Cadence to confirm her suspicions, though it was hardly necessary. She was well aware how often her eldest was spotted in the company of the colonel. The little glances and smiles had likewise been noted, as well as Tyr’s renewed interest in practicing with the sword in the courtyard the colonel's office overlooked.

“Uh-huh.” Tyr gave Cadence a flat stare. “Save your meddling for Auntie Tia and—”

The carriage drawing to a sharp stop interrupted Tyr.

“We’ll have to tease you later,” Cadence promised as she stepped out of the carriage, followed by Tyr and then Shining carrying Skyla.

Ahead of them, standing on the landing of Canterlot Castle’s private entrance, was the entirety of the Royal Herd, along with a few guests. Celestia and Rarity stood at the forefront, Celestia’s ear bent to her wife as Rarity whispered something. Celestia, in particular, was glowing brighter than usual, her mane flowing with an extra little snap.

On Celestia’s other side was Luna, a wide grin on her face at the sight of her daughter and granddaughters. Next was Faust, while on the far side a positively giddy Zeus almost pranced on the spot.

No sooner had Celestia started towards Cadence than a veritable horde of screaming fillies flowed between the adults. Screaming and jumping, with their little wings abuzz and perfectly coiffed manes bouncing into ruin, the Muses swarmed towards Tyr.

“Cousin Tyr! Cousin Skyla! Cousin Candy! You’re here, you’re here!” They burst with joy, the leading fillies—Calliope and Mneme—leaping up to full-body tackle Tyr. Her broad wings snapped out to catch the other muses as she fell backwards onto the cobblestone walk.

“My, my, you’ve all grown so big!” She laughed while Cadence giggled.

Jumping up onto the tips of their hooves, Aoide and Melete poked and played with Skyla.

“She’s so cute!” Aoide cooed, receiving a sputtering giggle in response.

“But, where is her horn?” Melete tried to move the filly as if her horn might have fallen off and been lost in the bottom of the bassinet.

Chuckling, Shining brought out a small square cloth to wipe at the dribble in the corner of Skyla’s mouth. “We decided to foster her,” he explained, referring to the old and mostly unused tradition of binding an alicorn foal’s essence so they’d age and develop like a mortal pony.

Cadence winced at the revulsion that flashed across the fillies’ faces.

She’d been against fostering Skyla. After all the trouble the spell had caused for Tyr, Cadence had been ready to cast the tools necessary for the binding off the disc’s edge. Shining had insisted, however. He’d pointed out how the fostering had worked for Applejack and Soarin’s daughter, giving her a regular upbringing with the Apple clan, as well as Rainbow Dash’s firebrand, Zephyr.

In the end, it had been Shining asking to see his daughter grow up that had changed Cadence’s mind.

“Come on Tyr, you have to come with us,” pled the Muses, yanking Tyr back to her hooves before starting to pull her towards the gates.

“Girls, girls, come back here.” Rarity called to her daughters, only to receive a few, altogether not reassuring cries of, ‘We’ll be fine, mama,’ before the horde vanished. Shaking her head, Rarity said to the nearby captain of the Muses guards, “You better keep an eye on them. We don’t want a repeat of the circus incident.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” he replied with a bow before setting off to collect his fastest and bravest knights.

Trotting up the steps, Cadence laughed. “Don’t worry, Rarity. They’ll be fine.”

“Oh, Cadence darling,” Rarity responded with a knowing laugh of her own. “It’s not them I worry about. It’s everypony else.”

“So…” Cadence inclined her head a little towards her aunt. “You look… brilliant."

It took Tyr until they were nearly at the market, before she at last managed to work a word in edgewise around the babble coming off her cousins. Ponies wisely avoided the Muses, the fillies legendary throughout Canterlot for their wild antics.

“What are we doing?”

“Looking for the perfect Hearts and Hooves day gift, of course,” Calliope called back as she and Aoide bounded into a jewelers.

They reappeared moments later, herded out by a floating broom and the shop’s owner. Pointing at a sign with an ‘X’ over the symbol of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, the mare glared at the Muses until the fillies moved on to the next store.

Tyr noticed a fair number of the signs plastered in the corners of windows or on the side of trolleys.

“Something magical, magnificent, magnanimous, marvelous, and… um… magical!” Arengea added, bounding from stall to stall.

“And, why do you need the perfect gift?” Tyr pressed as they started down Confectioner Street.

“To get mother and Zeus together, of course,” piped up Arche, not looking away from a selection of heart shaped cards she’d been peering at through a window.

“Okay, hold on!” Tyr screeched to a halt, the muses tumbling about her as they failed to slop as quickly. Waiting until the seven fillies untangled themselves, Tyr asked, “What makes you think meddling in other ponies love is a good idea?”

“Because, Zeus is perfect for her! Mother is so bright, and warm, and loving, and generous, and she is the sun!” Melete explained, her sisters nodding with extra vigor and adding a few more points in Celestia’s favour, such as wise, pretty, and smart.

As she finished her youngest sister took over.

“And Zeus has the best laugh, and he’s so funny and he is never, ever sad or mopey, and plays with us all the time. He even makes time for my games, unlike some ponies.” Arengea shot her sisters a scalding glare filled with disappointment and hurt.

“We’d play more if it weren’t for all the dice and your endless roll tables.” Mneme grumbled with an imperious flip of her mane. “Even Arche thinks you like numbers too much, and she loves math.”

“It’s not the numbers, it the randomness.” Arche muttered in a soft undertone, kicking at a loose stone and unable to meet her sisters’ eyes.

“Yeah, she loves math so much she should get them a card and some candies.” Polyhymnia made a few kissing noises. Screaming with laughter she leapt away as Arche let out a battle-cry and gave chase. The pair tore down the street, weaving through the crowd, Polyhymnia yelling in a sing-song voice, “Arche and math, sittin’ in the tower! Hooves entwined and—Yipe!”

Tyr rolled her eyes as Arche caught up to her sister and tackled her, the pair rolling to the base of the Statue of the Sisters.

“I’m surprised at you three.” Tyr directed her attention to the eldest of the Muses. Aoide, Mneme and Melete glanced up from watching their sisters wrestling, while Calliope and Arengea decided that cheering was the only proper course of action. “You know that Zeus should be encouraged to go back to Gaea, not pursue this fantasy that he can woo Celestia.”

“‘Fantasy’?”

Tyr stiffened at the deep, rumbling voice behind her. Slowly craning her head back, Tyr was not surprised to find Zeus towering above her like the thunderstorms his voice emulate.

His crystalline blue eyes narrowing into crackling slits, he said, “I will have you know that there is naught in all the myriad realms I can not conquer.” Little sparks of electricity flickered through his voluminous beard, and white teeth flashed as he smiled. “Besides, I made a deal with Ioka! And I, Zeus the Thunderer, King of the Alicorns, never break a promise!”

He followed this with a wink to a nearby mare staring at the group of princesses and the large unicorn Zeus appeared to be.

“Now! What is this about helping me win the heart of the fair sun?”

“I know what can help us find what we need.” Aoide declared as she jumped up onto Zeus’ back. “A song!”

She’d hardly started to take a deep breath before her sisters and Tyr all shouted, “No!” with Calliope pulling her sister down.

“Maybe we should ask cousin Candy, after-all.” Mneme slunk away from a shop with cakes sculpted into kissing poses or various Hearts and Hooves day themes. “We can’t find anything that’s just right.”

Tapping her chin, Arengea brightened, ear perking upright. “I have it! How about we make a list, assign them a number and—”

“If you suggest we roll some dice to decide on the perfect gift…”

“Well, we could weight the list so the better options are harder to get.” Arengea clapped her hooves rapidly, a wide, devilish grin growing on her face. “That will make them more special!”

Calliope clapped a hoof over her eyes. “We want to get them the perfect gift, not make it… Gah!”

And so, the fillies began to argue again, while Zeus both laughed and broke the fight apart when it was no longer good natured. Little did they know they were being watched, a strategically placed cloud overhead covered in a swath of adult alicorns.

“Well, it’s nice to see he’s still trying, at least,” Cadence commented from one side of the cloud, drawing a nod from Faust, and little huffs from Luna and Rarity.

“Oh, yes, he tries all the time.” Rarity used her wings to form quotations around ‘tries’. This earned her a little nudge from Celestia, a wingtip coming up to play with the edge of the little frown that had been growing since they’d taken station above the market on the edge of a cloud. “It’s almost a shame, really, that he is so hopeless.”

Celestia lifted a brow. “This coming from the mare who chased him out of the castle with a branding iron?”

“He popped out of a cake wearing a bow!” Rarity huffed and crossed her hooves.

A wicked little glimmer took to the corner of Celestia’s eye as she lifted a hoof to her chin. “It did accentuate his flanks rather well.”

Rarity stiffened at once, her eyes focusing like a panther about to pounce. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, yes,” Celestia continued undaunted by the snap in Rarity’s voice. “It was a wonderful show and fine way to start the Summer Sun Celebration. I think that is my favourite birthday memory.”

Ears folding back, Rarity worked her jaw a few times before she glared over the cloud’s edge. “Is it now?”

“Mmm Hmm.” A stealthy wing extended over Rarity’s back, darting down to bring her closer. Mischief flickered through the smile Celestia wielded like a sword. Leaning over, Celestia nibbled on Rarity’s ear before trailing a short line of kisses down her wife’s neck. “The way your wings caught Sol’s light. The fire in your voice as you defended my honour. You were stunning in every way possible. How could you ever think some little ribbon could compete?”

“Well…” Rarity’s voice trailed off into a little cough as she glanced over Celestia to the rest of their family, all trying very hard to appear more interested in what was happening below the cloud, than on it. “We’ll have to finish this later,” Rarity whispered before giving Celestia a quick kiss of her own.

“So…” Cadence drew out the word, followed it with a polite cough of her own, and then asked, “Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to use my other methods?”

Rarity’s eyes took on a bright shine, making her seem all the more beautiful, if it were at all possible. “It’s hardly a secret, but we’d—”

“Clio and Thalia,” Faust chirped up from her end of the cloud, drawing groans from Luna and Rarity, while Celestia clicked her tongue.

“Mother,” she began in that tone that was so heavy with disappointment that even the most resolute of ponies would wither to hear it, “we were supposed to tell her.”

Dragging her gaze away from the events down below—the Muses had found a store selling gramophone records and were busy pleading with the shop’s owner to play some music—Faust blinked a few times in surprise before realising her error. Clapping a hoof to her mouth she said, “Oh! I am so sorry. I just… I didn’t mean…”

“Well, she is the Namegiver,” Rarity sighed with defeat. “Can’t fault her for giving names, can we?”

It took Cadence a few more seconds to process all she’d heard. When it finally clicked, she let out a little, delighted squeal and jumped over to wrap her hooves around Celestia and Rarity’s necks. “Who is it this time? Wait, no, two names, so… Both of you? Or twins?”

“Twins? No, never having twins again,” Rarity gasped through the crushing hug.

“This is amazing!” Cadence was almost bouncing on the cloud.

Down below, having been unable to come to a consensus on what genre of music to play, the Muses had returned to their doomed search. Hearing the faint laughter and gushing enthusiasm coming from Cadence, Melete turned to Aoide and said, “Sounds like they’ve told cousin Candy.”

“Yep yep.” Aoide bobbed her head, more intent on flower display before her. “Looks like the prophecy comes to a close. Nine Muses; daughters three by mothers three.”

“We have to hurry, then.” Melete glanced around the busy market. “We just have to make sure Zeus wins our mamas’ hearts before they show up.”

“If only the ribbon and cake idea had worked,” Aoide sighed. “I was so sure that was going to be the winner.”

Author's Note

I originally intended this to be posted as a blog for Valentine's Day, obviously. It was not ready at the time and I've since just puttered away at it. Chronologically, it takes place a few years before the Hearth's Warming short-story.

The Pacification of Crystal Valley

The Pacification of Crystal Valley
By Tundara

Cadence stood on a low rise, eyes pinched into a severe line, lips pulled back to reveal her teeth. She snapped her braided tail from side to side, wings rustling against her enchanted barding. The same shade of lavender as her eyes, Cadence’s barding had been a gift from her aunt following the Nightmare’s defeat, and was one of the finest works of the smiths craft ever produced. Flowing, interlaced feathers blossomed from lapis lazuli stones across her chest and down her flanks. Each of the stones carried a protective ward forged from a combination of Bright, Harmonic, and Dark runes. How Celestia had managed to get the Bright and Dark runes to co-operate eluded Cadence, and she’d been tutored in magic since she could walk.

Penumbra, the sword forged by her mother while lost in the depths of madness and envy, sat snug against her left side. The blade hummed with power and a thirst for violence that echoed along the strands that bound it to the young princess. Malevolence had been poured into the tempered steel, the metal, dug from Selene’s surface, heated until it was a dark purple. The only moon-steel weapon in existence, Penumbra had been crafted as the instrument of Celestia’s death, but it had rebelled against the Nightmare, and bonded to Cadence, rejecting the darkness it was meant to herald.

Today, Penumbra would herald the dawn of a new age of peace; through bloody war.

To Cadence’s right sat the Lower Crystalspine, a fragmentary spur of the greater mountains that sat in the distance behind her and marched off to the west. A river cut through the valley before her, winding through the rolling, grassy hills strewn with crystalline menhirs growing from the natural magics the permeated the land.

Beyond the river stood a horde of Diamond Dogs in loose clumps and packs. Fifty thousand of the slobbering brutes, an army that in most any other age would have been terrifying to behold.

Cadence had grown up during the War of the Sun and Moon, and had seen armies of a hundred thousand, marching under the banners of the sister goddesses, and clashing in battles that would last for days. At Moonshade Fields, Cadence had even commanded one such army, though under the Nightmare’s judging gaze, and then, again, at the disastrous Fifth Battle of Flankshire.

In comparison to the grand legions formed in the civil war, the army at Cadence’s back was a pale imitation. Two legions, that was all that had answered her call to pacify the north and end once and for all the threat posed by the Diamond Dogs.

Most Equestrians were too weary of war, decades of constant struggle having left a deep scar on the nation. In truth, Cadence was surprised so many had rallied to her banner. Cadence was, at best, viewed with suspicion by Celestia’s supporters, and as a traitor by those that had served the Nightmare. Then again, she shouldn’t have been surprised that these veterans, of all ponies, had once more picked up sword and spear for her cause.

They were the cast-offs and the reject, ponies too used to the life of a soldier to fall easily into the role of a citizen. Soldiering was all they knew from a young age, answering the call to arms at the onset of war when the Nightmare had appeared. Their marks ranged from swords to shields, anvils to towers; but no matter the form, their talents all involved war in some form.

Around her stood her closest supporters and knights, their silver armour gleaming, and their gaze fixed with the utmost determination and contempt on the horde ahead.

“So, here I am again,” Cadence muttered, lifting an armoured hoof to press at the spot where she kept, tucked away beneath her armour, the locket containing the carved reliefs of her foster parents.

As always, in times of stress and particular hardship, she looked to their memory for guidance. It seemed like only the day before that she’d lost them, ripped from their hooves while her birth mother’s cackling laughter filled the small, two room house. She could not recall their names, just their voices as they tucked her into bed and sang her to sleep, whispering sweet nothings as Cadence drifted off.

What would they have thought to see their little Cadence now, she wondered ruefully. Would they be pleased? Would they have been saddened?

“Be good.” It was the only advice Cadence could clearly recall, given as she was spirited away.

Cadence had tried to live up to those two, simple words. Even as she was surrounded by madness and evil, as all the disc seemed to darken and fall ever deeper into hatred until it was as if the world had become part of Tartarus itself.

Being good, however, wasn’t always so easy.

But, somehow, Cadence had managed.

And now she stood on the precipice of something both good and evil.

Shaking off her doubts, Cadence turned to her legions, and with a simple spell, amplified her voice so all could hear her speak.

“Friends, here we are at Tartarus’ Gate once more,” she began, marching back and forth across the hilltop. “Before us stands the enemy, drawn out of their filthy holes and warrens, and ready to retreat back into them, to disappear and return to their raiding ways. Every herd in the north that has been touched by the vile beasts across the way.

“Our sisters and daughters have been stolen and defiled. Our brothers and sons taken and gelded. All of them forced to work in the mines until they die of exhaustion or to the slave-masters whips, and then butchered and served as dinner. For twenty years they grew bolder and bolder while the Sun and Moon warred, their attention diverted to each other. Entire villages have been lost due to inaction.”

The legions stamped their hooves and screamed their outrage.

“No more, I say,” Cadence spread her majestic wings wide, and with Sol just cresting the mountains, her shadow fell across the legions. “I have heard the prayers of the lamenting mothers, and, together, we will make the dogs answer for each and every filly taken from her mother’s hooves. For every colt snatched in the night.

They think ponies as soft. They think of us as weak and cowardly; but I know better!” Cadence paused as the legions roared. “I was with you, legionaires of the 3rd Lunarius, at the final battle of Flankshire, when we faced the charnel house my aunt had set for us. I was with you, my brave sisters and brothers, as you alone escaped with honour, while the rest of the lunar legions broke and fled like cowards. I was with you, fighting for three days until we reached the boundaries of the Everfree.

“It was against you, legionaires of the 2nd Harmonious, that we fought. We were enemies then, those few, short years ago, and now we are allied by common purpose. After today, we will be sisters and brothers all, bound in blood and sweat and victory. We will avenge those taken from us. By Faust, She whom weaves the tapestry of Fate, She whom grants us our very names; we will strike the dogs down with a fury so great and loud, no being will dare challenge ponies for a thousand years!”

Cadence held Penumbra high, moonfire flashing along the blades length with a chilling hiss.

The legions roared louder still, and as their voices died away, the horns trumpeted and the onigers and scorpios began to fire.

By nightfall, not a single diamond dog would remain in the Crystal Valley.

Author's Note

Unedited from the original version.

Original cover art by Nalesia

Daughter of the Night

Daughter of the Night
By Tundara

The shimmer of the stars had yet begun to settle for the night, the points of light still lost in their jubilant and confused dances. Only a few hours had passed since the greatest threat the land had faced in what felt like forever had been vanquished by the beloved Shepherd of the Day. That it had been, almost to the day, a bare one and a half centuries since the defeat of the previous ‘greatest threat’ did not enter the minds of the ponies celebrating like the stars overhead.

Cadence sat on a short ledge far from the gathered armies, watching the moon fly slowly towards the west.

There, marring Selene’s once pristine silvery face was the black mark signifying Nightmare Moon’s imprisonment.

Her mother was gone; madness quelled and quieted. No longer did ponykind have to live in fear of her shifting temperament and volatile nature. Of the hunger that gnawed on the night goddess at all hours. A foul, envious hunger that made her snatch at everything good, beautiful, or simply what others held dear, and drag it to her own chest. The threat of eternal night was gone, and not only Equestria, but the entire disc sighed in collective relief.

None of them, however, sighed so long or profoundly as Cadence.

Luna—The Nightmare, rather, was her mother, and the monster that had haunted every hour of her short life, whether night or day, awake or asleep.

A long shiver ran up Cadence’s back at the memory of the Nightmare’s long, cruel laughter. How she’d taunt and torment her! Weak, foalish, naive, soft, and so much more that the hateful words slurred together into a never ending deluge.

Not once in her twenty-one years did Cadence hear a kind or gentle word from her mother.

How she’d longed for the spiteful, wicked mare’s approval when she was younger!

Cadence ground her teeth, and her wings shot outward in her growing rage. She got up and began to pace to control the heat burning deep in her chest. The ledge trembled, as too did the mountain on which it stood, neither able to withstand the young alicorn’s fury for long.

Three times she trotted the length of the ledge, three times she snapped her tail like a thundercrack, and three times she tossed her head to glare up at the moon. At the end of the third repetition, Cadence stopped, took a deep breath, and recalled the Nightmare’s final screams.

‘Cadence, my heart, why?’

One of her wings lashed out at a nearby tree, sending the poor, ancient thing flying from the mountainside. Raising her hoof, she touched the cheek where she’d been struck by the Nightmare during the final confrontation. The blow would have killed any regular pony on the spot. Snapped their neck like it were a brittle plate beneath a rampaging dragon.

Cadence was not a regular pony. She wasn’t fully certain if she truly was a pony at all.

Oh, she certainly looked like a pony. A little taller and sleeker, certainly, but not terribly so. Though that would change in the coming centuries. Her wings were long and graceful like the Imperial Pegasi, and her fluted horn slender. An alicorn, the true ponies called her kind. A quiet, little white lie to make them feel better and to make the royal family that seemed to up-end the lives of real ponies every few hundred years a little more approachable. Normal. Safe.

A long snort was accompanied by a few sparks of blue magic from the tip of her horn. Despite all the tutoring the Nightmare had insisted Cadence undergo, her ‘unicorn’ magic was still wild and difficult to control. Not that she’d had long to put her lessons to use. She’d had the horn less than a day.

A few more minutes and the anger began to fade. It would never go away, not fully. But it did become manageable to a point where Cadence was certain that she was not liable to hurt any of the mortals with a sudden outburst.

Turning back towards the distant lights of the armies, she was about to take wing when a curious thing occurred; a trio of stars fell from the night.

The first came racing almost straight towards where she stood. Cadence frowned as the light came tumbling down. She tried to place which of the stars had decided to abandon the heavens, but with their antics that night it was impossible. Oddly, the star felt wrong, off, a little stranger than those the Nightmare had plucked from the sky to be used to make the abominations that were the Stellar Beasts.

Love fairly poured from this star. Mingled in among the strong emotion was a deep, rending sorrow and desire for an end.

Cadence blinked a few times and felt the disc spin around her as the unfamiliar sensation of raw emotion coursed through her. It was something she’d have to get used to in time, as she was the newly minted Goddess of Love.

She stared after this star until it had passed overhead, leaving a trail of burning aether in her path, and vanished behind the Crystalspine Mountains. Her wings twitched, contemplating those distant, frigid lands north of those inhabited by ponies. A star falling into such a place would be ill-equipped for the dangers of a wild forest filled with monsters and daemon-spawn.

Part of her wanted to leave the star to whatever fate lay in the north, whether foul or fine. Growing up in the Nightmare’s court, she’d met more than a few of the other stars that had fallen over the ages. Some were kind, and had tried to reason with the Nightmare, others had come to swear their swords to her service. All of them had treated Cadence with kindness and respect, even the most martially minded.

That was until her mother began tearing stars from the sky to create her ‘Stellar Beasts’, using them as no more than weapons to distract Celestia and terrorize those lands loyal to the sun goddess.

Gut twisting with revulsion at her hesitance, Cadence knew she had to help the star.

Twisting her head showed her the other two come tumbling down, these angling towards the south, where Celestia and the armies were encamped. Had she more experience, Cadence would have recognised the energies given off by the pair not as stars, but as her brethren alicorns. So new to the sensations washing over her, the nature of the two plummeting lights eluded her and were dismissed.

Her aunt, Cadence reasoned, could help the southern stars adjust to their new life on the disc. She would send a messaging spell to inform Celestia of her plan to find the first star. If Celestia wanted her help, Cadence reasoned, then her aunt would find her.

With that she spread her wings in preparation to take flight and summoned the beginning of a spell. The actual use of spellcraft was new and unfamiliar to Cadence, but also something forced into her through years of rote practice in preparation for her Awakening. She knew hundreds of spells by heart, ranging from the mundane to the astounding, and all levels in between. It should have been surprising how naturally the runes came, and the ease with which Cadence formed them together, yet it was as if she’d been practicing magic all her life. First she conjured a pink, crystalline sparrow to deliver her message, then bent a more complex series of runes upon each other. Once the weave was completed she departed Equestria in a blue flash.

Deep, penetrating cold assaulted her immediately, driving into her flesh and down to the marrow. Cadence’s teeth clattered soundlessly, and she squinted against the all consuming blackness that surrounded her. It was no mere shadow through which she moved, but a nothingness in between the fabrics of reality. Some called it the astral plane, others simply the void. For Cadence the name wasn’t as important as the several minutes it took to reach her mother’s northernmost teleport point. It was the coldest experience of her life, and she swore to never teleport again.

Cadence appeared above trees further north than any pony had dared venture in hundreds of years. The Taiga was not so different from the woods near the ruins of Everfree Rest. Unbidden, the image of a smiling couple, locked in a passionate embrace and thanking Cadence profusely for her help struck her. Right on the memories’ tail came a second, that of the entire town dead, victim’s of the Nightmare’s wrath for ‘tainting’ her daughter. A sudden wince at the bitter memories almost made her falter and come tumbling into the snow laced forest below.

She caught herself with the practiced ease of one born to their wings, and quickly regained some lost altitude so she could locate the star’s landing point.

A quick sweep of her senses almost sent her tumbling again, her mind assaulted by waves and waves of Love from hundreds of thousands of sentients. The forest below was far from the dead place ponies envisioned, and instead teamed with entire villages and towns worth of emotion wandering hidden trails and secret pathways.

Tensing her jaw, Cadence focused on the star, using the memory of its fall to find the strands of its love and sort it out from the noise. In years ahead it’d be a skill Cadence would master, able to separate the strands that bound the myriad races of the disc together and follow them to their source. Still new to her domain, Cadence stumbled through the process, uncertain if the thread she eventually settled upon belonged to the star or not.

It was not as far to the star as she’d feared, no more than a dozen or so leagues, and easy enough to cover by flight.

Though not accustomed to long flights—the Nightmare jealously kept Cadence near at all times and refused to let her leave the castle—Cadence was more in tune with her pegasus nature and easily fell into the long strokes and gliding.

She skimmed across the tree-tops, sometimes batting clumps of snow from the peaks of the pines, other times weaving her way through the trees before pulling up into a loop-the-loop. For the first time in what seemed forever, Cadence laughed and put the trepidations and concerns of Equestria and the war in the past. She was at last free. No longer did that Nightmare loom over everything, souring even the quiet moments.

Lost in the joy of flight, Cadence failed to notice the fast approach of her destination, or the changes in the aether floating on the wind. It wasn’t until she flipped over a gentle hill and the wide crater of the star came into view that she remembered to keep aware of her surroundings.

Opening her mind to the currents of magic around her, she was struck by a pair of strange alicorns nearby. Whereas the nature of the two that had fallen near Celestia had been muddled by distance, these were far clearer through their proximity. Unlike with her aunt and mother, there was something off about these others. A wrongness pervaded the atmosphere. They were like broken screams that trailed down her psyche in semblance of monstrous claws. Mane prickling, Cadence took a long pass around the crater site.

There in the blackened patch of ground, at the very heart where the star would have landed, was a pony hunched over and deep in the throes of a spell. His horn was lifted high, the point a-glow with a bright, pure light, pulling magic from the surrounding ground towards him.

Setting down, loudly, Cadence made no effort to hide her presence.

Before she could begin to demand what the pony was doing, he spoke in a voice rough and rich, like cream covered brittle. “Another goddess makes her way to my doorstep, and on such a night of portents ghastly and grim? What does it mean, my little dream, oh, what does it ever mean?” He chuckled after this, his spell uninterrupted the entire time. “That you have not struck me down means you are not Celestia, and Luna has been defeated this very night. Faust would drive her spear into my breast… or would she? Always hard to know with her. You can not be Iridia, for she is here already; so who? There is not another, is there, my little dream? … Love, you say? No, there is no Goddess of Love, not here at least. Elsewhere, if the prophecies hold true, in the tumbling streams of fallen titans’ dreams there is another, perhaps. But not here. Not on fair Ioka.”

Having had enough of his rambling, Cadence drew Penumbra and advanced on the strange unicorn. “I am Cadence, and yes, I am Love; but how did you know?”

Chuckling again, the unicorn shook out his long, tangled black mane loose of the red cloak he wore. Beneath the cloak, Cadence saw old armour, battle-worn and dented with many long years. Sunken, brilliant ruby eyes, like the jewels of some forgotten, ancient queen flitted to Cadence’s face and then back to the center of the crater.

“I did not know. It was my little dream who recognised you a-coming. But, where have my manners fled? Too long I’ve been alone again. Alone, except for my little dream. Ten thousand apologies. I am Sombra de la Esponya. I would bow, but I am a little busy at the moment. If you desire to kill me, could you wait a little while? This is rather important and can’t be postponed.”

Unsure how to respond, Cadence shifted to the side a little and ruffled her wings.

Looking around, she asked, “Where is the star that fell? She should be around here. Close by.”

“Not a star, but a foolish old mare is what fell.” Sombra snorted and finished his spell with a swirling flash that formed a crystal, red as fresh blood, at the heart of the crater. “There, and now she is safe, for the time being. We must move fast. This can not hold her long.” In a swift motion he scooped up the stone and thrust it into a pocket in his saddlebags, then turned to grin at Cadence.

She gave a little start on seeing his face clear in the moonlight. He was not a unicorn, as she’d first suspected, but rather a kirin, scales glistening around his eyes, and long fangs glinting in the moonlight. Cadence berated herself for not realising at once, given the odd curve to his horn. His strange mannerisms now made sense. As the foals of a pony and a dragon, kirin were almost always driven to madness.

“I do not understand. There has to be a star nearby. I saw her fall.”

“If it is an explanation you desire, then follow. You can stay and hunt this mythical star all you want, you will not find one that has fallen this night. No, they are too jubilant and busy with their dancing.” He nodded to the sky where the stars were still lost in their wild motions, entire constellations racing each other. “Or, you can come with me. I would be glad for the company, it it would be interesting to get to know you, O’ Goddess of Love.”

Cadence scanned the area again, seeing only a single set of tracks enter the upturned ground, and none leaving. Coupled with the pair of alicorns, it was obvious something was wrong. Whatever had happened, the kirin knew the answer. Deciding to stay with him for the time being, Cadence made a motion for him to lead the way.

He set off at a brisk canter, his hooves easily finding the hidden pathways of the forest as if he’d forged them himself. Sombra did not speak much for the first few hours, just asking idle little questions, and never answering any himself.

Eventually, Cadence’s patience began to grow thin, and stopping in a field she demanded some answers.

“Who, exactly, are you? And why do you believe I’d kill you for no reason?”

“I told you who I am, and that the name means nothing to you says much.” He grinned a long, predatory grin and chuckled once more. “As for no reason? Aye, if you knew my history that pretty sword of yours would have found my throat ages ago. My little dream and I thank you for staying your hoof.”

“Does this have to do with the other alicorns? I can feel them near, like they are following us. But why do they remain hidden?”

“Hidden? Hah! There is only one alicorn in this forest, and two ghosts. Soon to be one ghost, unless we tarry too long. Come, come, it isn’t much further now to Thornhaven. But first, I think it time we change.”

“You speak in riddles, and…” Cadence was interrupted by a spell. Not one directed at her, but rather one Sombra cast upon himself.

He grew a little taller, broader in the withers, while his tail shrank to a little nub, and his horn split into a proud set of antlers. As with transfigurations, his eyes remained the same, though they now shimmered with delight at the open mouthed stare fixed on him by Cadence.

“I do not know such a spell,” Cadence admitted.

“Oh? Then come here and learn.”

In the soft earth he scrawled a series of runes and equations; the weave of the spell he’d used. Cadence was surprised to see that it wasn’t all that difficult, though it did use some runes she could not identify. Staring at them hard, she felt the runes and spell enter her mind, a jolt running down her horn on reaching the new runes. Something about them was wrong, jarring, and made her head ache a little.

Casting the spell proved more difficult. It railed against her control, nearly fizzling several times before she managed to bring it in line. Her skin crawled and wings tingled as it set about its work, and in the next moment it wasn’t a young goddess that stood in the field, but a petite halla doe, wide eyed and gaping at herself.

“Come on, come on, we don’t have all night,” Sombra huffed, already starting back down the path at an even brisker pace than before. “Your mother would have had that spell at once.”

“You speak as if you knew her,” Cadence snapped as she caught up.

“Aye, that I do, and well. We fought together for a time, and then we went our separate ways.”

“When she became the Nightmare,” Cadence reasoned, but Sombra just gave one of his chuckles and shook his new antlers.

“Nay, long, long before she changed. Before Discord roamed the disc, before the joining of ponykind to form precious Equestria, and before… before the terrible days of the Long Winter.”

Shaking her head, Cadence said, “You would have to be several hundred years old for that to be true, and even a kirin can not live so long.”

Silent for a little while, Sombra eventually let out a sad sigh and grunted. “Aye, this is true ordinarily.” Sombra tilted his head and muttered beneath his breath for a short time.

“Very well, my little dream says to trust you,” he said at last. “I was an apprentice to Celestia once, many, many years ago. I saw her at her peak, and I saw her at her lowest. And then I committed a terrible betrayal, one I thought at the time was justified. But what I did was beyond the pall of reason. I took my little dream, and in doing so I set your mother down the path of madness.”

Though there was truth in his voice, Cadence huffed and shrugged them off with a flick of her wings. “No pony but her is responsible for her actions. She would have mentioned you, if you were at all responsible. The Nightmare would have raged and screamed, hurling your name among a thousand curses, and ordered the stars themselves to hunt you to the edges of the disc.”

“Ah, but she thought me dead these past five hundred years. Dead and buried in the east, one of many nameless and forgotten victims of the Long Winter, or the monsters that prowled around the edges of civilization in those days.” Sombra chuckled wickedly, and his red eyes flashed with morbid memories. “You remind me of her. It is in the eyes. A kindness and a pain. She too experienced suffering and loss during her fostering, those she loved dying and their blood staining her hooves. She also tried to run away from her fate. But fate is not something that one can escape. What will be, will be, and is already woven into the fabric of destiny.”

Bristling, Cadence snapped her mouth shut and refused to speak with her companion for a time.

Who was he to lecture her about the Nightmare? A crazy kirin wandering the woods, making cryptic comments about stars, ghosts, and spinning nonsensical stories of how he was the one that was hated.

Yet, everything he said was the truth. Or, he at least held them to be true. Cadence prided herself on her ability to tell when ponies were lying. If she wasn’t the Goddess of Love, Cadence would have been the Goddess of Truth. Not that such a role existed.

That would be a rather silly thing to have as her domain.

Odder still, the presence of the two alicorns hadn’t wavered in strength the entire walk. They were as close as when she’d arrived.

As she decided to question him anew, they emerged from the forest and found themselves facing a small town surrounded by cairn stones. In the distance loomed a castle that did not belong in the north. It’s walls were high and strong, its roof pointed, and towers loomed over the forest like the horns of a gothic dragon.

Pressing a hoof to his lips, Sombra lead Cadence into the town.

Here and there stood clusters of halla conversing in low, worried tones, their heavy language, full of hard stops and gruff rises, filling the night. Cadence couldn’t help but stare, having never thought to see an entire town of the northern folk, nor to walk amongst them so openly. She was surprised to find that most did little more than glance in her and Sombra’s direction before dismissing the pair.

She came to a stop as a group of fawns broke out from between a cluster of log halls of some-sort and scampered across her path, an old matron, grey along her muzzle and beneath her eyes, giving chase and calling for them to either slow, or perhaps come back. The fawns did what all children are want to do and stuck out their tongues, laughed, and darted away while the hind sputtered with exasperation. The hind said something to Cadence, and she replied with a thin smile and shrug. Blinking and off-put by the response, the hind sighed and went on her way to track the fawns down.

Cadence stared for some time after the group of little ones, a dopey grin on her face. She’d never gotten the chance to play as a foal. Oh, she’d managed to sneak out of the castle from time to time and visit Everfree Rest, and there even make a friend.

Those nights had been so sweet, and Cadence wished she could say they’d be treasured forever, but bitterness clung to them like spiderwebs.

Her friend was dead, as was the entire town.

All because they’d given her a few, fleeting hours of happiness, and helped her find her domain. For that, the Nightmare had repaid them with death, screaming that the town had corrupted her daughter and tried to steal her away.

Smile sliding off her face as if it were oil, she turned away and marched to catch up to Sombra.

Checking again her sword, Cadence’s frown deepened, and by the time she and Sombra had reached the castle it was fierce enough that the two halla standing guard did not even speak to the pair but waved them through at once. She snorted at the laxness of the castle’s security. Her mother never would have allowed anypony to so brazenly stroll through her gates.

Within the courtyard they found a couple dozen other halla already gathered, and from the nods sent towards her, Cadence realised that the guards had thought her part of this group. From the way they stood, easily and with a confident swagger, Cadence knew them to be a group of warriors. All those present wore armour and weapons of some sort, or had their antlers tipped with bladed steel caps.

Putting a little more confidence into her own step, as she’d been taught by her instructors, and for all the disc acted as if she belonged. It was not a happy exterior she presented, such would have been impossible with the confusion and swirl of emotions that had been present for so many years. The low fury worked well, however, as it was a look many of those present wore themselves.

In the next moment, Cadence’s simmering anger faltered as she glanced up and there came almost face to face with what seemed to be a statue of the Nightmare. Rearing high, with a defiance behind her stone eyes, the statue seemed to snarl and glare down on Cadence. It took Cadence a few, terrified heartbeats to realize the statue was not of her mother, but of another alicorn. The mane was wrong, as was the crown she wore.

“You’re going to have to keep them busy a moment,” Sombra said as he went up to the statue and dismissed his transformation.

Attracted by the flash of his spell being canceled, a shout rose up throughout the courtyard. Cadence cursed underneath her breath and drew Penumbra in a hissing flash. Against the early morning darkness, the sword’s blade seemed to vanish. Forged of nightstone, Penumbra was as her namesake; black and deadly. Through where she held the long hilt Cadence was queried by the sentient sword, assuring her without words that it was always ready.

The closest of the halla issued a demand, but with no knowledge of their language Cadence wasn’t sure if it was for them to stop or identify themselves.

“I would advise you to stay back,” Cadence replied, pacing back and forth to keep herself between Sombra and the group of warriors.

Her words had the immediate effect of causing the crowd to harden and lower their stances, weapons drawn with a ringing clang and hooves pawing at the ground.

“Perhaps I should have warned you, but they do not take kindly to ponies in Thornhaven,” Sombra called over his shoulder as he withdrew the crimson crystal from before and thrust it against the statue’s breast. “This will only take a few… minutes.”

“Minutes?” Cadence yelped as the first of the halla approached in a thundering crush.

Her first instinct was to put some distance between her and the crowd with a flap of her wings, but still within her own transfiguration, and with no idea yet on how to cancel the spell without waiting for it to wear off, the best she could do was dart to the side. Twisting Penumbra to the side, she brought the flat of the blade against the first of the halla, and sent him careening across the courtyard. Twice he bounced, sending other halla tumbling, before coming to a hard, crunching stop on hitting the castle walls.

Cadence’s eyes widened, but she had no time to contemplate the strength of the strike before she was forced to block a pair low thrusts. The next few minutes were a swirl of motion and shouting.

Her entire life Cadence had been tutored by the finest knights within the Nightmare’s service, and even by the Nightmare herself. It was widely held that there was no greater practitioner with the sword than her mother. Fighting was second nature to Cadence, as much as she deplored the lessons beaten into her.

There was little of the fluid grace the Nightmare possessed when in battle, Cadence’s moves far more to the point and brutal. Penumbra’s pommel smashed into one halla’s mouth, a stream of blood and teeth following in the sword’s wake as it was then brought down on the next halla’s head, driving him into the ground with a sickening crunch. Pressed on all sides, it was all Cadence could do to keep the throng from reaching Sombra. Her enchanted armour deflected a dozen blows that would have killed any normal pony. A momentary break in the battle showed the Halla a tigress, fierce and proud and bloody, swirling in their midst with her deadly talon. The flash of her eyes gave the hardened warriors around her pause, and she pulled back her lips into a wild smile.

“What are you doing?” Cadence demanded as she dashed to the left and knocked aside a spritely doe.

“I am just about done now. She’s being a little resistant.”

Sweat coated Cadence, leaving her sticky beneath her armour, though she did not feel even the creeping start of exhaustion. If anything she felt exhilarated, and it left a sickened pitt in her stomach. A twinge in the back of her mind, a rebellious little corner wondered if the Nightmare would have been proud.

Screaming at herself, at how much she wished the Nightmare could have said one good thing to her, given her one smile, one kiss, Cadence lashed out at the halla. No longer did she try to withhold her blows, Penumbra striking with enough force to shatter the ground. Wild eyed, she forged into the halla ranks, not allowing them to retreat or quarter.

Her blood sang, as it had when she’d raced into the sky to join her aunt, the Elements her mother had hidden away at her side. She did not notice when a portion of her armour was torn away, nor the spear that was thrust into her shoulder, and there found no purchase before harmlessly sliding up her neck. The spear user was knocked aside by a sweep of her sword, and in the next moment Cadence was hit on the side by the lowered antlers of a charging buck. Penumbra swept out his legs, and a firm kick sent him rolling through the others pressed in close behind.

Spinning high on her back hooves, she drove Penumbra through the next warrior, and something snapped. A thick chain of Love shattered, staggering her as a stout blow to the head might. The disc reeled around her, and through the spin she heard one of the other halla screaming a name.

Everything snapped back into focus; Penumbra hovering in the air, blood dripping from her tip onto the face of a doe clutching the body of the halla Cadence had slain, the looks of fearful shock on the faces of the others, Cadence’s wings spread wide and her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

When the spell altering her appearance had shattered, Cadence neither knew nor cared, all she could focus upon was the tearing within her own heart, echoed pain from the doe in front of her lancing deep into her breast. She stepped back a few more paces, deep gasps sucked in through her teeth, and Penumbra tip dropped to the stones with a heavy clatter.

Cadence didn’t notice Sombra come up to her side, nor did she feel the biting chill as he teleported them away. Only the sudden shift of hard stone to soft carpet brought her from her stupor.

Blinking the image of the doe and her dead love away, Cadence found herself in a well appointed room, a bed set to one side next to a desk covered with scrolls and gemstones beneath an open window through which Cadence saw the peaks of unfamiliar mountains.

“You are in my tower,” Sombra explained before she could ask where he’d taken her. “Bah, I am becoming an old fool, my little dream. Should have left her. Will have to abandon this place now. A shame, as it was rather nice.”

He shook his head and went to a nearby cabinet, from which he retrieved a bottle of aged whiskey. Opening the bottle, he offered it to Cadence, she accepting it without preamble and taking a deep swig.

“You did well. I would have had to do more harm if I’d been alone.”

“Well?” Cadence shrieked, brandishing the still bloody Penumbra. “I was terrible! I was exactly like my mother!”

Sombra lifted a brow and snorted, retrieving the bottle from Cadence and pouring a small glass for himself.

“Aye, you were. My little dream says Luna would have been proud to see her daughter fighting to protect—”

“No! Stop comparing me to her, I am not like the Nightmare.” Cadence began to pace, her thoughts in a flurry and unable to settle. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the doe again, and felt the shattering shock of the love she’d destroyed. “I’m not her. I’m not…” Cadence’s words drifted away along with her certainty, and she shuddered.

“Nightmare? Nay, I see nothing of the monster in you. What a pampered thing you must be to believe that to kill is always a sin. We did good this night.”

Sombra’s words were lost on Cadence. “I… I must return to Celestia. S-She will know what I must do… I must make this right. Perhaps if…” Panic gripped her tight, rising up to hold in vice-like claws to the spot.

She’d hurt others who’d done her no wrong. It would have made no difference to her if she’d stood still and let them hit her until their hooves were worn and weapons broke. Why did she fight back? Why did she like it so much?

“I can never tell her. Celestia can not know of this night. If she learns what I did…” The image of Celestia on her golden throne erupted into Cadence’s mind. Hoof jabbed towards her niece and fierce disappointment in every angle her face, she cast Cadence out, decrying her as false, and the heir to the moon in all aspects, as cold and cruel as the Nightmare.

She started to pace, then stopped to take a deep breath. Pulling her hoof to her chest, she grabbed the knot of anxiety, and pushed it away as she exhaled. This she repeated several times before Cadence again looked towards where the amused Sombra sat with the now half-empty bottle. Behind him, through the window, the sun rose and Cadence couldn’t help but wonder if Celestia’s night had gone better than her own journey.

“Be good…” She whispered, tears that could not fall stinging her eyes. “I promised my foster parents that I’d be good, and I failed them this night.”

“Did you? Life is not always so easy, my young friend.” Sombra set the bottle down with a heavy clunk and stretched out his back legs. “Had you not been there, I would have had to find some other method to drive those guardians away. Let me tell you, my methods are not gentle in the least. We are all the products of our times, and I am a creature bred for war and battle. Which is why I prefer it here, away from civilization and the disc, where I can contemplate my transgressions alone and without disturbing others. You killed five, and crippled three more; the remainder will recover of their wounds in time. No, you should not be angry at yourself, but at me for putting you into such a position. Had I told you what we were heading towards and what I planned I feared you would stop me. But, I am a silly, prideful creature, and it tore at my old heart to think of somepony as pretty as you thinking less of me. I will not say I am sorry to have deceived you, for that would be a lie, and I may be many things, but I try to speak the truth.”

Her anger focusing itself on Sombra, Cadence snapped, “Yes, just what were you doing? I no longer sense the second alicorn, but I can feel the other still. How is this?”

Sombra chuckled darkly, then pulled the hem of his cloak aside to reveal a silver crystal thrust into his chest through a hole in his armour. Cadence’s eyes widened at once and she took a quick step back, revulsion twisting her guts and forcing bile into the back of her mouth. Of all the things she’d seen, the crystal was perhaps the most horrific, though she could not say as to why.

“This is my little dream, and why I suspect in a minute you will drive that pretty sword of yours through my throat.”

“I will do no such thing,” Cadence quickly countered, though she held no confidence in the statement.

“Perhaps you are less like your mother than I thought.” He shrugged and looked out the window. “The choice is yours. Strike me down now, or leave. But if you do leave, know that I will disappear again, and you’ll regret having had this chance and not taking it.”

Bristling, Cadence thrust Penumbra into her sheath. “I just said I will do no such thing. Whatever happened between you and the Nightmare is your affair. I hold no loyalty to her.” With that she vanished from the tower, lest her determination falter.

In his chair still, Sombra downed his glass and huffed. “The young are so impetuous. She should have stayed to learn who it was we saved. One debt has been repaid, and another is earned. We shall have to repay your cousin too, my little dream.”

Author's Note

In recognition of reaching the 800 Followers milestone.

This is something I had hanging around for a while that I never got around to finishing. There were a slew of issues with the previous draft, ones that created problems with events throughout the rest of the stories. Originally there was a long section between Cadence and Tia where they discussed Luna and Twilight. Several times I tried to come up with answers as to why Cadence wouldn't either know or respond to events in other stories, as if she knew Luna and Twilight fell and spoke with Celestia at this point, then her actions in them make no sense.

Ultimately, I do not think this story is 'great', per-se, though there are parts I personally rather enjoy. I hope you enjoyed it as well.

The Book of Selene: Tamashi

Tamashi

By Tundara

Following her trials crossing the lands of the Soulless and the impregnable fortress-mountains of the Hymarelians, Luna came onto Canton and Neighpon, with their white towers and jade palaces. Once again among her own kind, she’d never been more of an outsider. To the many titles she wore as a broken crown she was given another; Reaver. And, thusly, the nations of the eastern-rim would tremble at her passage.

—Book of Selene

1:The Princess

The drumbeat of hooves on loose stone broke way to a crash, a carriage careening off the narrow road and down a shallow hill. Reins snapped, throwing the pair of earth pony drivers pulling the carriage. Head first one hit a tree, his neck snapping at once, while the other was caught beneath the carriage itself as it tipped and rolled.

From the wreckage emerged a slim unicorn in a torn dress cinched tight about her willowy waist with a broad emerald sash. She stumbled away ignoring the dead drivers, and instead made her way towards the nearby line of trees.

Behind the carriage, whooping and yelling as they started down the hill, came a half-dozen brigands. Brandishing their swords in strong auras, sweaty foam flying from their bodies, they bounded towards their prey. Ill-fitting helms and battered armour covered the brigands, all taken from the dead of a battlefield. The unicorn glanced over her withers and let out a desperate whine as she attempted to flee. Only a few paces from the woods she stumbled on the edge of her voluminous dress, and the brigands were upon her.

“Mercy, soldiers of Tatsuo!” she cried, laying on her back with a hoof outstretched to the nearest of the brigands. One she recognised, though this did nothing to quell her fears. “Lord Koji,” she began to plead, “You had honour once. Release me, I beg.”

The mad-eyed fiend just stared and cackled, his grin one of carnal desires. He leered down on her and jerked her roughly back to her hooves by her mane. The mare screamed and thrashed, pleading with the brigands to let her go.

“Release you, princess?” The stallion holding her mane let out a raspy, unearthly growl next to her ear. “When it was your brother who reduced us to this? Oh, but where is he now? Nothing but food for maggots and worse. He can’t protect you anymore. Beg and debase yourself all you like, Himiko Kazumi; it falls on ears deaf to your honey-sour words. You are far better than any ransom of gold, which we will have too when you are spent. Now, hold still or we’ll send the king your head.”

Horror gripped the mare, all fight draining from her at the knife edge placed next to her throat. Tears of rage and disgust ran down her cheeks, making the brigands laugh louder before they began to sort who would spoil her first.

So taken with their prize, none of the brigands noticed the dark figure emerge from the woods until a stout branch shattered the jaw of the one with the knife. They blinked dumbly down at their writhing companion, then turned to regard the figure staggering out of the shadows.

A bottle of wine drifting lazily at her side, Luna glared with bloodshot eyes that sparkled like azure pools of hatred at the remaining assailants. Around her neck she wore a simple sash of once white silk, now stained a deep burgundy, with a barely visible dragon emblem hidden beneath. With a casual disinterest she chewed on a tangled lock of powder blue mane matted with oil and dirt. Spitting it loose as the brigands began to spread out to surround her, a fierce grin broke across her face and she tensed the sinuous muscles beneath her filthy coat.

Rumours of the foreigner swirled through back-alley dens and smokey, secretive holes. A Reaver from the west, she’d appeared on Neighpon’s shores three months earlier and earned a small reputation in the underworld for her vicious, short fights in the illegal arenas. Fortunes had been made and lost betting on her matches. Few of the scoundrels and raiders outside the city believed the tales, and dismissed it to their fellows with the usual scoffing laughter used against other tall-tales.

“That was a mista—” The lead brigand began, only for his threats to die in a mangled scream as the knife that had been threatening Kazumi was plunged hilt deep into his throat.

With a twist and jerk of her aura, Luna wrenched the short blade free of the corpse and regarded the four remaining stallions. They gaped between her and the dead. She moved first, bursting into fluid, darting strides utterly at odds with her haggard appearance. Taken aback at being charged, the stallions reacted too slowly. A scream broke from the rightmost brigand as the bloody branch shattered a knee while she descended on his compatriots.

The next few seconds were a blur of frenzied shouts and motion. Luna darted this way and that, her branch and knife striking again and again. Only the furthest of the brigands had sense to turn and flee, his long strides carrying him up the hill and away from the carnage near the woods.

Hoof clutched to her mouth to hold back her shock, Kazumi could do nothing but stare in wide-eyed terror as the brigands were beaten until they no longer resembled anything similar to ponies. Blood and gore dripping from her face, Luna let out a long, weary sigh and discarded her branch before taking a long drink from her bottle. Another sigh, this one of annoyance, left Luna, then she noticed the petrified mare lying in the dirt and blood at her hooves.

“Here,” was all Luna said, shoving the bottle forwards.

Her own aura trembling, Kazumi dared not refuse, and took a quick, shallow sip. It was enough to send her gagging, the wine tasting like piss mixed with vinegar. Laughing, Luna reclaimed the bottle, and after finishing the dregs within, began to wander back into the forest.

“Come,” she commanded at the tree-line without looking back. “Unless you wish to see if their friends will treat you any kinder.”

Caught between following the bloody minded unicorn or staying amongst the dead, Kazumi elected to follow. First, she went to the wagon, cringing as she stepped around the dead, and from the sagging wreck she pulled a long, white box. This she carried close to her side, her aura so tight it formed little sparks that crackled in shifting pinks and blues, as she hurried to catch up to her rescuer.

Luna eyed the long box with only slight curiosity tempered by impatience as Kazumi came stumbling through the woods. Branches and thorns reached out to snag the edges of Kazumi’s complicated and ornate dress, snatching at the emerald necklace she wore, or scraping along the box at her side. Cursing, Kazumi swatted away the underbrush.

“You’re a Reaver,” she said through gasped breaths as she came up to within a few strides of Luna.

“Ai, I’ve been called such,” Luna responded, with little interest in her voice, as they rounded a set of stout trees to enter a simple camp. She began to pack a set of ratty saddlebags and kick dirt over the tiny fire sitting in a stone ring. Her possessions were few and meager, merely a sleeping roll to toss on the ground, and a small pot to heat her food. Old, torn chain barding she tossed over her back, and a battered, one-winged helmet was slid over her head, pressing her grimy mane across one eye. The only other thing of note was an ornate box with the same dragon symbol as on her sash. Luna hesitated as she fondled the box, staring at it for several long moments as her face grew more pinched with reserve. Shoving it into a bag, she snapped, “You got a name?”

“Oh, P-Princess Himiko Kazumi.” The words stuttered from her mouth, bringing a sharp blush to her cheeks.

Why did she feel such embarrassment underneath the foreigner’s gaze? It were as if those crystal blue eyes were able to peer into the depths of her being, there was such an intensity to their light.

Luna looked the princess over, and shrugged. “Right, Kazumi. I assume there is some sort of reward for your safe return?”

“Reward?” Kazumi crinkled her nose in distaste and released a petulant huff. “I should think that the battle was reward enough for your kind. Isn’t that all you foreigners desire? To slaughter and maim then drink yourself into a stupor?”

A shallow laugh broke from Luna and she threw on her saddlebags. “If that were true, would I not have killed you as well? Perhaps I will, though there is no challenge or honour in besting somepony as frail and frightened as you.” She waited for her words to sink in, tossing out another of her dark, grim laughs, before adding, “A pony has to eat, and as you tasted, my wine has turned sour. A few coins for the rescue of a princess is usual, even in these lands, I think.”

Kazumi was silent and did not argue the point. Seeing that she was, probably, safer with the foreigner than alone, Kazumi said, “Very well. If it is gold you desire.”

Evidently satisfied by the answer, Luna finished tightening her saddlebags and barked, “Come on, let’s get you home then, princess.”

2: The Blood Slicked Road

As they walked Kazumi peppered Luna with questions. Part of her was terrified of the mare beside her, but an equal part was deathly curious. Luna did little to sate her curiosity, speaking in little more than the occasional gruff ‘yes’ or ‘no’. This only drove her to new questions, pride forcing Kazumi to continue. Eventually, even she had to admit that attempting to draw answers from Luna was a pointless endeavour.

Seeing as the conversation was one-sided already, and afraid of the silence, Kazumi filled the rest of the day with a running monologue of everything from the lotus blossoms in her gardens, small gossip about the various servants of the palace, and tidbits about her own past; anything to prevent herself from contemplating her narrow escape.

“So, the bandits are actually ronin?” Luna asked a few hours into their journey, startling Kazumi out of her hurried ramblings.

“Oh, uh, yes,” Kazumi grimaced, wondering how she’d let this knowledge slip. “Some, anyways. My brother killed their leader, Suda Zeshin, a former retainer of our father, not a week past. We’d hoped that would be the end of it for good. They’ve been little more than a nuisance the last few years, until now.” There was sadness in Kazumi’s voice, and tears rimmed her eyes.

Her brother had given his life to end the bandit’s reign of terror on the countryside, only for his actions to spur them to greater heights of depravity.

“Even a wounded dog will lash out when forced into a corner.”

“I suppose.”

“Well, it is no concern of mine.” Luna shrugged her powerful shoulders, showing off the toned muscles beneath. She stared beyond Kazumi for a short time, and then grunted, “Eyes are playing tricks again,” and picked up her pace.

“Something the matter?” Kazumi attempted to follow Luna’s gaze, but saw nothing but fields broken by old forests. For one brief instant she thought she saw a shape dart amongst distant trees, but she blinked, and it was gone.

“We should hurry,” Luna replied, no longer looking back but firmly fixed on the road ahead. “Your herd must be anxious for your return.”

With that, at last, a silence fell across them.

Kazumi retreated into the thoughts she’d feared, seeing over and over the bodies of the drivers, and then the bandits who’d been so close to ravaging her. She shivered, though the day was warm and muggy, and panic began to grip her heart as if the bandits surrounded her still. With great effort she shook off the oppressive weight of the morning, taking solstice in the presence of the strong mare at her side.

Under the bright light of Sol, her coat showed signs of many battles. A wide crescent scar cleaved a path near the base of her neck, the tangle mess of mane hiding it at times. Thin, puckered white lines criss-crossed legs and withers. But, it was the patch of missing fur on Luna’s nebulous, black cloud and moon cutie mark that caught Kazumi’s imagination most of all.

Unable to pull her eyes away from those firm, toned flanks, Kazumi found herself wondering at the foreigner’s past.

Luna was so utterly unlike anything Kazumi had seen or read about in her books. She showed no signs of fatigue nor remorse, her stride long and with a confidence born through many battles and thousands of miles of winning her way across storm tossed seas, sun blasted desert, cutting a path in choking, fetid jungles, and braving the wind clawed peaks of desolate mountains. She was a barbarian unlike even those in the books and stories used to caution little princesses of the lands to the west.

Danger hung in a thick cape around Luna, and though Kazumi could only guess at the adventures needed to create such casual confidence, they left the young, sheltered Neighpon princess enthralled.

Clutching her long box tighter, she formed a question, and then let it drift off her tongue in a long sigh. Several minutes passed. Kazumi’s gaze drifted up to the mangy, old saddle bags, and the painted box poking out of the worn cloth, before returning to the network of scars.

Having watched Kazumi’s roving eyes, Luna let out an amused chuckle. “Stare all you want, but I have no interest in a dainty, painted doll.”

A dark blush burned across Kazumi’s entire face. She sputtered, and twisted her head away in a sharp huff that only made Luna’s chuckles grow into a long, rolling laughter.

“I— That is— Never in a hundred, thousand, million years! Gah!” Impotent to do anything else, Kazumi stamped a hoof, intent on unleashing a torrent of scathing barbs as soon as they came to her.

Her tantrum was ill-timed, hoof striking a crooked stone and twisting sharply. Kazumi fell with a yelp, sharp pain radiating up her leg and before she could understand what was happening she was on her side, half lying in a puddle. This latest injustice was the final straw. She’d only just barely been holding the reigns of dignity. Leg throbbing, embarrassed beyond reason, it was only natural that she was overcome by the swell of emotions.

Tears quickly became heavy, rattling sobs mingled with furious oaths as Luna threw back her head with booming amusement.

Laughter abating, Luna offered Kazumi a hoof. “Come princess, we have a lot of ground to cover still.”

“No, I can go no further!” Cried Kazumi, holding out her sore hoof as added explanation. “My hooves aches. My legs ache. Let us rest a while.”

“Rest?” Luna spat the word as if it were a poisonous berry. “It has been barely a few hours. At this rate it will take a week to reach your father’s castle.”

“Well, unlike you foreigners, I do not revel in the mud and dirt. The straps of my shoes will begin to cut my pasterns if you insist we keep this pace. My lord-father will be very angry if you were to cause such wounds by forcing me to trot down the road like a common earth pony.”

Kazumi knew she’d erred before she’d finished speaking. Expression one of cold fury, Luna grabbed hold of the princess and tore off her golden shoes and the hem of her dress. Appalled, Kazumi shrieked, and tried to fight against Luna’s aura, but found the foreigner’s grip to be like steel, unyielding and just as cold.

“There,” Luna grumbled as she used the strips of silk to tie the shoes together before draping them across her back. “You may chip a hoof, but that will do you some good, I think. Had we the time, and coin, I’d have you properly shod. There is nothing like being well shod on a long journey.”

A frightened squeak broke from the princess, and she shrank into herself, eyes wide and darting between Luna and the woods.

“Shod? With nails? Like an Earth pony? You can not be serious! A true unicorn would never allow such a disfigurement!”

In response, Luna raised a hoof to show the simple Tarkanian shoes she wore. The Horse-Lords of the rocky steppes were the greatest ferriers on the disc, the health of their horses—and ponies—a point of great pride and necessity. A burning lump of hatred for the Tarkanians, lodged deep in her chest, could not counter the practical truth that she’d likely never find a better shoe. To the ferrier’s considerable skill, Luna added a touch of magic to make the shoes last longer. Even after so many thousands of miles they still shone as if they were new and had been nailed in place but yesterday.

Horror twisted Kazumi’s face, and with great effort she wrenched her gaze from the metal bands.

“There is no reason to whinge, I only speak in jest. We are not going near far enough for it to be an issue.” Luna stamped her hoof a couple times, the metal ringing on stone, and used her aura to pull Kazumi up. “Now, let us…”

Her words drifted off on the late summer wind, movement in the corner of her eye from down the road catching her attention.

A large number of ponies approached, and even though they were a half-kilometer away, the nature of the group was clear in the patchwork armour and weapons strapped to their sides. The moment they spotted Luna and Kazumi a wild shout broke out from their number, and they broke into a hurried march.

“It’s Lord Tatsuo!” Kazumi gasped and trembled.

“Come, come!” Luna shouted as she broke into a gallop, near dragging Kazumi off the main road onto a narrow lane that lead up towards the mountains. Behind them the bandits broke into a maddened rush, chasing the pair into the wild, dangerous hills.

3: Flight Beyond the Mountain

Not far from the trail on which Luna and Kazumi galloped, visible through the gaps of trees and when they passed the rice fields, rose the jagged spines of Mount Hinoe-Uma, highlighted in a fiery glow. High up on the cursed mountain resided an ancient fortress-temple to Tirek. Blasted black basalt walls and twisting spires littered the plateau on which the fortress resided. Foul things slumbered within, an eerie glow clinging to the mountain at night, thick puffs of smoke curling from the yawning mouth of the doors leading into maze like chambers.

Within the fortress resided the Black Sisters of Hinoe-Uma. Witches of the foulest sort, every pony of Neighpon knew to give the mountain a wide berth. Only ravens perched in the sickly trees that clung to the barren slopes, and snakes slithered across jagged crags. No wolf dared prowl the narrow paths twisting and winding up her sharp slopes, bears refused to make dens of the many caves, and even foxes were not to be seen. Tended by their slaves, the witches practiced rituals of blood sacrifice in the name of their demonic lord.

“Why have we not seen any other pony?” Kazumi asked as they fled further into the mountain’s shadow.

By way of explanation the forest broke, and the mountain came into full view.

At once, Kazumi went rigid with fright.

“Not Hinoe-Uma!” She gasped, and pranced on the spot, looking between the bleak mountain and back along the way they’d fled.

The rising voices of their pursuers pressed her onward, hooves kicking up the damp dirt.

At the mountain’s base sat a squat, ill-kept shrine. Roof rotted away in large chunks left the misshapen idol on the altar open to the elements. A few trinkets and offerings lay scattered on a cracked ceramic plate. Nopony chose to take the overgrown road and have to pay a tribute to the capricious sisters.

Luna rushed past the shrine without giving it a second glance.

“No, no! That mountain is prison and home to the witches,” Kazumi protested, beginning to slow, only to be picked up in Luna’s iron aura.

“There is no time,” Luna barked, her magic unrelenting as she darted up the path, Kazumi and her long box bobbing in her wake.

A violent blush overcame Kazumi. She sputtered, embarrassed rage mangling any words, but couldn’t break Luna’s aura. Even injecting her own magic into the icy bands that held her did nothing more than create a slight shimmer. Kazumi could find no flaw and weakness within which to wedge her own magic. It further amazed the princess that Luna could be so precise, her magic akin to a giant hand, rather than the suffocating cloud used by almost all unicorns. Luna’s grip was absolute, strong as the finest blue steel the smiths of Neighpon could forge.

Not a moment was spared to consider putting Kazumi down. The brigands’ breaths snapped at their tails like the teeth of braying hounds and quickened Luna’s heart.

Had she a sword, Luna would not have hesitated to turn and face the brigands. Weaponless, discretion was far wiser.

Further and further into the mountains Luna carried Kazumi. Twisting back on itself, the path narrowed and cut up a harrowing hill, loose stones lying in wait for an unwary step. To one side soared a slate wall. On the other the ground dropped away in a sheer cliff face. Far below a thin stream glided out of a gully surrounded by jagged stone.

Tatsuo and his brigands lagged a little further behind where they’d slowed to offer coins to the shrine. At the sight of their quarry, they lowered their bearded heads and rushed. One of their number missed a step and plummeted to the unyielding valley below, the wet thwack of his sudden landing reaching Luna’s ears with a pleasing ring.

Legs burning, chest heaving, but her step sure, Luna felt alive for the first time in months. She laughed at the first arrows and slung stones that pattered harmlessly just behind the tip of her tail.

Behind a ridge she vanished, and came to a sharp halt, a fork in the path before her. To the right the path widened, but continued its climb. A glance up this way showed her the black sided fortress not too distant. On the left the trail grew narrower still, broken here and there by little cuts formed behind heavy rains in years past.

“We must go down,” Luna stated at once.

She could feel eyes on her back, unseen and unnatural in their pitiless gaze, watching her from the air, the broken stones, and the crawling insects. A younger, less experienced Luna would have insisted they continue up in the hope that their pursuers would think better of stepping hoof on such unhallowed ground. Instinct honed through long years and many adventures warned her to stay away from the mountain peak and its ruins. What beasts claimed the site now she did not begin to contemplate, only that the mountain was cursed and to get off it with all haste.

The trail down was as rough as that they’d used to climb the mountain. Steep drops hundreds of metres long waited any false step. Loose gravel added to the treacherous nature of the decent. Despite the dangers, Luna picked up her pace, each step placed as assuredly as if she’d been born to the mountain. Scraggly shrubs began to appear, clinging in the crags, black thorns scratching Luna through her coat and tearing Kazumi’s dress further.

For once the princess did not complain. Now they were leaving the mountain and its hidden horrors, Kazumi almost pushed Luna to go faster.

Unseen behind them the clouds about the mountain began to swirl and gather. Twisted by unnatural currents the became as a chariot large enough for three black specs to step onto and disappear. The cloud spun about the mountain peak once more, and then began to follow Luna and Kazumi at a watchful distance.

Through a narrow gash in the mountain they went. Even Luna, accustomed as she was with hard marches and long flights, began to feel the effects of climbing then dashing down a mountain. Kazumi gasped and panted, mane matted to her face and robes slick with sweat where they rested on her back and withers. The canyon opened out onto the narrowest ledge yet, and Luna, who’d begun to think it a good place to make a stand, abandoned the thought.

A more promising sight was in view regardless, a small village resting not a league away in the space between the mountain and a series of rice paddies. On and on they galloped, drawn to the prospects of assistance offered by the flickering lights.

No wall surrounded the village, only a short ditch which was filled with brackish water and filth. A dismal air clung in thick miasmic clouds, seeping around dirty, soot stained walls and about overgrown gardens. Weeds stuck up among the pathways, showing this to be a place of despair and drudgery. Long before they reached the village’s outskirts, Luna knew they would find no assistance within.

Doors barred and shutters drawn, the village gave off the air of being inhabited only by ghosts.

4: The Blind Village

Kazumi looked around the empty square, resting her long box against the well around which the village was built. Greedily, she dropped the bucket into the black depths and pulled up fresh water. For the moment her haughty air was abandoned, Kazumi throwing back her head as she gulped down the cool liquid straight from the bucket.

Briefly, Luna saw not a princess, aloof and indifferent to the disc, but a young mare, a little ragged, but still beautiful. She was struck suddenly by the resemblance Kazumi possessed to another young mare Luna had known.

Icy dread clutched Luna’s insides.

Setting the bucket down, Kazumi looked around the empty square. “Where is everypony?”

“Hiding,” Luna stated, setting down her saddle-bags and retrieving her small box.

Undoing the gilded clasp, Luna opened the lid with a hesitant sort of reverence. Bad memories swirled in violent storms within the red painted interior. Through a clever set of enchantments no pony alive could replicate, the space within was far greater than outward appearance would indicate. Every time she used the box, Luna felt like a filly peering through a window into a house.

“We are outsiders, and this village has seen hard times. They will not help us for fear of retribution,” explained Luna as she retrieved a long, pink ribbon. Blood stained the edges of the fabric, faded lines and creases showing where it’d been tied into a bow.

“What about our anger?”

“Two mares? Running from a large group of brigands?” Luna quirked a brow. “I’d hoped that some guards or perhaps retainers lived in the village that you’d be able to command. But, no, this is as desolate a place as the mountain within which shadow it resides.”

With a wide gesture, Luna indicated the various shutters open just enough for a pony to peer out. Behind them, hidden in the dark, the villagers watched.

Face stormy, Kazumi puffed out her cheeks and issued a low growl in the back of her throat. “Then, I will order them to open up and let us in. They must listen, as I am the princess of these lands.”

“Aye. And when Lord Tatsuo breaks down the doors and drags you out into this square along with those who’d given you shelter, what will you do? Order him to leave?” Luna chuckled and resealed the box before slipping it back into her saddlebags. “Let them cower. The town itself is a boon. Find a place to hide, a cellar or some crates, and wait. Should an opportunity to run present itself, do not hesitate to seize upon it.”

“Hide?” Kazumi huffed. “I am not some earth pony to burrow into the ground. I’ll stand with you. My magic may not be much, but I can at least distract a few.”

Tying back her mane, Luna lifted her face to the sky. Sol was low in the west, ready to be guided to her rest by the unicorns of Luna’s homeland. To the east a silver glow edged the mountains as Selene prepared for her nightly flight. The time when Luna felt most alive was at hoof.

For a fleeting heartbeat, like the ghostly passage of a cool breeze, Luna was overcome with a rare piety. She was not a mare to trust in prayers. Not since the dreadful days spent in Tarkania, when love was ripped from her hooves and left asunder on the bleak, bare stone, and she became no more than a slave to the horse-lords and bitterness. Unused to the sensation of reverence, Luna bent her head.

“Faust… Mother…” She paused, scrunched up her face, and let out a slow, heavy laugh. “Heh, nevermind. Praying to you is as pointless as asking a scorpion not to sting. You know which strands I am about to cut from your tapestry. Stop me, if you must. Or don’t. I care not which you chose.”

Kazumi’s prays were far more fervent, a plaintive, desperate air lending them greater weight than Luna’s cold dismissal. Her lips moved, but what she said was between her and Faust alone.

Lord Tatsuo and his stallions, and a few mares, had long since rounded the final bend on the mountain path. Seeing Luna and Kazumi no longer in flight, they slowed to a determined trot and began to spread out so as to encompass the village. They sported mostly old nagatinas, haphazard armour covering their shoulders and flanks. Only a couple sported weapons in well repair and well tended barding. Numbers were their greatest advantage, and it gave them confidence as they advanced.

Of the brigands, only Lord Tatsuo himself caught Luna’s eye with his stern lines, muscled legs, and the horn thrust through his green and blue speckled mane. From the way he moved to the fine swords at his side, he exuded an air of martial prowess. How long that mein would last, Luna grinned to imagine. He was also the only unicorn among the brigands.

Luna knew she should have been worried, or afraid, but all she felt was joy. She let out a long, snorting laugh, and grabbed the stoutest piece of wood she could see. It was no sword, or even a decent club, but it would have to do.

“Stay behind me, princess.”

“I know,” Kazumi snapped back, heeding Luna’s advice, and kept close as the rough stallions formed a loose half-circle around them.

At a barked command, the brigands charged in a disorganised clump. Luna snorted, and struck her branch against the first stallion’s jaw. Brittle wood burst in a shower of splinters flecked with fur and flesh. Ducking a chop at her head, Luna snatched up the sword of the stallion she’d hit, and drove it into his throat. Blood burst over the hilt and through her aura, sending a pleasant tingle into her horn.

There was no time to enjoy the kill, Luna darting to the right and between the rogues. Stinging blows fell on her flanks, and she lost the tip of her left ear, but she broke through the ensnarement. As she passed she cut the hamstring of one brigand, and gave a stunning blow with her pommel to another. Growling like an enraged juggle cat, Luna pounced before the stallions could begin to encircle her again. Another fell, Luna’s borrowed sword lodged between his ribs, and as before she snatched up his fallen blade, this a finely crafted short tanto.

Weaving tight cuts as she advanced, she split open the throats of two more stallions.

Her blood sang as it had not done in ages. She exulted in the thrill of battle and conquest, in seeing the light snuffed from her enemies’ eyes. Death was her oldest friend, almost a lover after so many harrowing adventures. To be in His company again, under such a glorious night, bathed in Selene’s silvery glow, was a bountiful comfort.

She was a Reaver, and embraced the role as she would the lips of a lover.

Luna ducked and wove, giving up precious ground. The Tanto was soon joined by a new club, and a cluster of stones from the rim of the well.

“Get her, get her,” Lord Tatsuo shouted, spittle flying from his fat lips, eyes wild with hateful lust. A stallion came from the left, two on the right, and another tried to circle around behind Luna. Her club shattered the muzzle of the closest, blood and teeth embedding themselves into the old, dry wood. Stones pinged off armour, and cracked against hooves and head of any who dared venture too near. She fought like a hell-beast loosed from the darkest pits hidden beneath Tartarus, and for a moment the crowd of stallions around her hesitated.

Luna laughed, chest heaving with life and excitement. It had been too long since she’d faced a real challenge. Too many had come to test her might, and too few had proven worthy of attention. Though none of the rogues had skill or talent to prove more than a fleeting distraction one on one, through numbers alone they proved a deadly force. The few she’d killed or wounded were but a fraction of the bloodthirsty band of brigands closing in about her.

“What are you waiting for, be done with it, already. She is but one against thirty!” Lord Tatsuo shoved his way forward, and drew his long, ancestral blade.

From their windows villagers peaked, frightened gazes unable to move from the scene in the square. They did not know who to fear more; Lord Tatsuo and his brigands, or the mad-eyed foreigner covered in blood and wounds who drew such pleasure from the slaughter.

Grin growing wider, heart pounding against her chest, Luna challenged Lord Tatsuo with a flip of the short bladed tanto, blood running in thick rivulets from the chipped steel.

5: Laughter of a Witch

From her place huddling next to the well, Kazumi watched Luna with a mixture of horror and fascination. The brief encounter in the forest had been but a prelude to the barbarian’s prowess. Any other pony would have been killed in moments. Yet Luna stood, covered in the blood of brigands more than her own. She towered above the ponies about her like a feral tiger among lambs.

Perhaps, if there’d been a few unicorns among the brigands numbers, the tides of battle would have been different. Even then, Lord Tatsuo alone was enough to put Luna onto her back hooves. His blade cut a sharp line, intercepting Luna’s tanto in a ringing flash, but he did not advance beyond a few steps.

For years, Kazumi watched her brother train. She had learned some things from her window, such as judging the range of another unicorn’s aura. Lord Tatsuo, for all his wild gaze and spittle flecked shouts, kept his distance and allowed his stallions to harry and wear Luna down. Like Kazumi, he could see that Luna was the more skilled. The brigand-lord refused to risk drawing within range of her deadly tanto.

Luna’s slashes were too fast to be followed, only the crimson wake flowing from her aura telling the deadly tale of her skill. A bloody mist clung about her hooves, and a primordial light of battle frenzy lit her blue eyes so they shone as reflections of the rising moon.

She did not go unharmed, a deep cut opened on her flank, and a shallow slice tracing the line of her jaw. The wounds went unnoticed, for the moment at least, blood mixing with sweat. Another brigand, nagatina clutched in both forehooves, drove Luna back with a sharp jab towards the tightening circle of blades. His intent did not escape Luna’s keen eye, and more akin to a jungle cat than a pony she struck and burst from their deadly ring. At once they closed in around her again.

Nothing within Kazumi’s power could alter the tide of battle. No matter how Luna fought like a demon possessed tiger, she was but one against many. Eventually, she would be worn down, exhausted, and the hounds would feast.

“Are you dogs afraid to fight with honour?” Luna laughed, a wild cut nearly taking the eyes of another brigand. For a moment there was a lull, as each side re-appraised the other. “You must pile like hyenas on a lion, it is the only talent you possess.”

“We are ronin and scoundrels all,” Lord Tatsuo snarled back. “Honour is lost to us, and so why should we give it consideration? You stole from us, and we will have our prize returned, along with your bloody head so all know the price of crossing us.”

He took a bold step forward, one that turned into a quick dart back as Luna’s tanto came flashing in. A slight line of red showed where he’d been nicked across the nose. There was no time for further banter from Luna. A nagatina thrust in from the side. Kazumi tried to cry out a warning, but too late. Luna’s wounded ear flicked towards the grunt and scuff of hoof on stone. She dropped low, and the blade only tore a long gash from shoulder to the rise of her withers, instead of piercing her side. Thick blood washed down Luna’s side, hot and sticky, filling her rent and torn armour. Rolling to the side, she grabbed the head of the weapon. With a hard shove, she drove the butt into the brigand’s gut, forcing the air from him and dropping him like a sack of flour.

Seeing their hated foe so gravely wounded, the mob rushed in before Luna could regain her footing. Bodies pressed together. Shouting. A bubbling cry. Furious kicks and stinging cuts as desperation fueled by hatred drove every stab and cut. And then, from the deepening clear night, a bolt of lightning struck the ground.

Frightened, the brigands all darted back, scanning the star studded sky with wary eyes.

Luna tottered before them, left eye closed where she’d been struck in the face. She was a terrible sight to behold, weary, ragged, and torn. In the scuffle she’d managed to wrest control of an axe, gore flecking its head already, though whether it was hers or not, Kazumi was unable tell.

Heavy magic coiled through the night, tingling across Kazumi’s hackles, whispering to her that foul things were about. A cackle, like that of a wild jackal, burst from the shadows. Green lights flowed around the square, drowning out the little light given by the brigands torches, or slipping through cracks in windows and doors.

A brigand screamed, and then was gone, dragged into the coiling night. There followed the cracking of bone, and a slick noise of entrails spilling across stone. Huddling closer to their leader, the group now worried more of the night than the weary barbarian they’d been moments from slaying. More screams, a vicious howl, and a black beast, wizened and desiccated, loped off carrying a pony.

Collapsing next to Kazumi, Luna hissed through bloody teeth, “Demons! Hide in the well, princess.”

Frozen with terror, Kazumi was unable of responding. Her eyes bulged, and mouth hung open as the brigands were picked off one by one until only Lord Tatsuo remained. His sword trembled, aura flickering upon the hilt at the dread seeping through his will. He darted the blade left, then right, swinging at the slightest movement, and finding naught but shadow.

Bubbling laughter filtered through the village on the wind, sharp and foalish. The witches of Hinoe-Uma, Sakura the Gold, Oka the Red, and Umeko the Blue remained hidden, their voices scratching along the ear like poisoned thorns.

“Look at the poor ronin, sisters; cast out, alone, a pariah fated to die at the bottom of a bottle if he’d not crossed our mountain. Isn’t it so sad?”

“Sad? Nay. No honour. No strength. A mediocre stallion in all regards. If not for his troupe, the barbarian would have sheared him in half.”

“Yes, yes! Snick-snick clack, and dead. Heh-heh-heh.”

“Aw, she’s hurt though. The poor ronin damaged our prizes, sisters. What should we do to him? How can we make him pay for ruining our fun?”

“Kill him and be done with it, as we did the mud ponies.”

Lord Tatsuo snorted and made to shout some challenge. Instead there was a long crunch, and his head twisted around and around until it came off his shoulders with a stomach churning pop.

“There, punished. Cast to Lethe. Swallowed by oblivion. Heh-heh.”

The brigands dead to a pony, the gloom retreated, and the witches emerged fully in the green-hued light. Scales of bronze and blue glimmered up their legs, across their chests and throats, coming to an end just beneath crimson, serpentine eyes. Fangs parted supple lips, and curved horns rested upon proud brows. With manes of gold, red, and blue, the witches sauntered towards Luna and Kazumi.

“What of the others? What should we do with the princess and the barbarian, sisters?” asked Sakura, the tip of her tongue darting out to wet her velvet lips. She pranced and skipped, a giddiness lending her the air of a filly. She darted between Luna and Kazumi with a rolling purr.

Luna tried to stand, but her strength at last utterly failed. She collapsed on her side, letting out a long, wheezing breath.

Standing apart, Oka gave her tail a dismissive flip. “The foreigner is near dead. Lethe will claim her soon. Leave her. The princess will pay both of their dues.”

“Yes, yes, no. Trespassers must pay. ” Umeko blinked unfocused eyes, rolled her head, and grabbed Kazumi with her magic.

Long shrieks rippled from Kazumi as she was lifted into the air. The witches became as thick smoke, their bodies intertwining until they’d become a cloud that surrounded the princess and carried her off to the top of Hinoe-Uma. Cruel laughter taunted Luna at how powerless she was to stop them.

Exhausted, Luna tried to stretch out her magic, leg lifted as if she could grab the witches. Unable to move or summon more than a few sparks of aether in her wound-addled state, Luna began to drift away. Through the descending haze Luna heard a ghost call her name, and the last thing she saw before being consumed by the grey between life and rivers to the underworld was a tall, murky form bursting into the village square.

6: The Ghost

Perched on the precipice of death, Luna wandered through a nightmarish dreamscape of her own design as fever and infection ravaged her weakened body. Into the past she plummeted, dead faces, distorted and rotted, flashed in gloomy walls that formed her prison. Howls accompanied by the clash of steel, the brays of wounded horses, and soft whistles as arrows cut through an invisible sky chased every moment.

The dead were near beyond count. Her parents, her sisters, friends and lovers, enemies too; they formed an accusatory horde. Hooves and hands pawed at her, tugged at her mane, dragged fingers torn to the bone down her legs, gripped her tail and tried to drag her deeper into the nightmares.

Luna could sense madness as it crept ever closer on needle pointed feet. It scuttled across raw sinew, dredging up tragedy upon tragedy, whispering in dead voices that slashed across an already wounded soul. She curled in on herself and tried to weep, but all that came were trembling grunts.

A ray of light blazed through the gloom, scattering the dead and guiding Luna back to safer pastures.

Her eyes flickered open to find a sunny ray falling through an open window at the perfect angle to sting her weary eyes. Shielding her face with a bandaged hoof, Luna found herself in a room in one of the village homes. It was a simple room, with a single window and door. A few shelves held various boxes and ceramic jars, and a dresser pressed between the bed and window. Bloody bandages and a basin filled with warm water lay on table tucked in the far corner of the room. Near the end of the bed, in a corner, stood a squat stool.

Groaning, Luna tried to get up, only to fall back as the ghost from the night before swept into the room. Surrounded by a cloud of red hair, the women moved with efficient grace. By most human standards, the woman was tall, with a strong set of features surrounding unusual yellow eyes. Luna had known her when she’d been a scrawny thing fumbling through youth. To see her grown up filled her with a sliver of doubt.

“Orange?” Luna asked, uncertain if she were awake or simply in some new, more vivid nightmare.

“I don’t recommend trying to get up, princess,” the flame haired ghost said with a soft smile as she sat on the stool. There was an otherworldly air about the woman, an aura of proud mystery and knowledge wrapped around her in a voluminous cloak.

“You’re dead,” Luna cried out and threw up an accusatory hoof. “I saw you and the others die. An arrow took you through the heart, and fell into the churning rapids of a winter river. This is impossible! No, this must be some vision, or a trick played by the witches, or mother.”

Corner of her yellow eyes crinkling, Orange shook with laughter. “Ain’t going to argue otherwise with Her Highness, Princess Luna, last daughter of Coltsica. I know how stubborn you get. Truth is, I ain’t here at all, and this is all in your head.” With a long finger Orange tapped her temple.

Calming a little, Luna snorted and crossed her hooves.

“Out with it then. What advice do I have for myself?”

“That’s more like it,” Orange slapped her knee and rocked back on her stool. “I’m just here to see what you plan to do about that poor filly rustled by them witches is all. Ain’t got no advice or prophecies for you tonight. Well, maybe just one. If you’re willing to listen for once, rather than stick that thick head o’ yours in the dirt.”

“I think I need a drink,” lamented Luna, rubbing her forehead with her good hoof.

Face darkening, Orange seemed to grow, to fill the room with a seething rage. Her robes and hair billowed as if in a swirling wind, and she overflowed with a power that frightened even Luna. “Solace ain’t in the bottom of a bottle, Princess. It is in your friends. In leaning on them when you hurt or in trouble. Together…”

Orange’s voice trailed off as Luna held up a pleading hoof.

“The power of friendship is a naive con given to foolish fillies as a blanket against the cold realities of life.. Friendship… Love… What point is there in placing your faith in either? They are incapable of stopping a sword, or the wickedness inherent in all beings.”

A mysterious grin pulled at Orange’s lips. She leaned back in her chair, fingers steepled in her lap.

“Friendship will save you, when you are in your darkest place. It will be many years yet, in a land far away, surrounded by the ruins of a castle once shared with your sister. That prophecy, however, ain’t why I am here.” Orange pushed herself up and crossed to the window from which she gazed up at Hinoe-Uma. “Kazumi is important. You must save her.”

“No pony is truly important, in the grand scheme of the Weave,” Luna waved a dismissive hoof. “Ioka will continue through the void, no matter who is on her disc.”

“Well, I could give you some codswallop about how she is destined for this-or-that. Truth is, she is important because she is part of your story. This story.” Orange waved a hand in a slow motion to encompass the room. “We both know you ain’t going to let the witches win, and have their way with that poor filly. So, stop wallowing in self-pity, and do something.”

Sighing, Luna rubbed her temples. When she opened her eyes, Orange was gone. Another sigh was followed by a sharp epitaph on the nature of ghosts. A tremor ran up Luna’s back, and she forced herself up. Aches pushed aside, Luna glared out the window towards the nearby mountain. The bright flash of pink caught the corner of her gaze. Cleaned, her bloodstained ribbon sat folded next to her other possessions and the long box Kazumi insisted they bring.

Her hauberk was beyond ruined. At last it’d succumbed to wear and was little more than a few chain links set in a haphazard pile. The tanto she’d taken was next to the armour shreds, cleaned the same as everything else. It was a decent weapon, she supposed.

Pulling back her main to plait it, Luna could hear what Orange would say, were she alive.

“No, I am not planning to go up there with only this butter knife,” Luna huffed to the empty room.

Luna traced the edge of Kazumi’s box with a hoof. Strong suspicions of what lay hidden inside tickled the back of her head. With a few deft movements she flipped open the lid.

On a bed of red velvet rested a long, curved blade of the purest black, like it were carved of solidified night. Gold bindings twisted down the length of the hilt, ending at the white jade pommel. Identical white jade formed the tsuba, images of the moon, clouds, and lotus petals worked into intricate curls around each other in a flowing dance. The sword stretched longer than Luna herself, a third for the hilt alone.

She took it up without comment, giving it a few practice swings.

The sword was heavy, unwieldy, and nothing like a good Unicornian blade or the falcuta favoured by men. Poorly balanced, with flashy, inferior materials, it was a show-piece and not a weapon fit for battle.

Luna was about to discard the sword, when she sensed something kindle within the sword. A presence leached up through her arua, touched her mind, and whispered to her. The sword grew lighter, and a shimmer ran the length of the blade. A gasp came from Luna, and she looked on the sword with new eyes, twisting it so that it caught the light flowing through the windows. Now, she could make out faint inscriptions within the metal.

“You knew this sword, didn’t you, Orange,” Luna whispered as if her friend stood beside her. “Of course you did. You were a Seer. Ishata damn you.”

Luna performed a few more cuts, the sword reacting quicker, growing lighter with every swing as it joined with her. When she was confident in the blade, she left the house. In the yard, a middle-aged mare sat over a wash basin cleaning the soiled bandages.

“Thank you, for tending to me,” Luna said, bowing to the mare.

The mare looked up with a start and frowned. “Yes, well, just be on your way, and that is enough. We don’t need the troubles you foreigners bring.”

Heart heavy with the renewed loss of her old friend, Luna tightened a girdle about her waist, and thrust her odachi and tanto through the band. She fixed her eyes on the peak of the mountain, and the friend she may still be able to save.

Without another word she set off.

7: Fortress of the Black God

The mountain loomed over Luna, an imposing edifice of stone burnt black, lifeless but for her, with the fortress of the witches there upon the peak. Tiered towers thrust into cloudy skies so that the uppermost tops were hidden behind white shawls that hung in shimmering ethereal bands. Sides of polished obsidian gleamed with a nameless menace. Promises of horrors hidden behind the glass smooth walls were heavy in Luna’s mind. Her heart rang with a thick rage and pushed through the hazy dread permeating the air that would have otherwise left her paralyzed and quivering, unable to lift her head towards that terrible place.

She tightened her girdle, and drew strength from the great blade strapped to her side. Power flowed where the enchanted moonsilver steel rested against Luna’s thickly muscled flank. Forgotten were the wounds of yesterday, subsumed by youthful vitality and the burning pulse of red-hot vengeance that filled her as if poured from some primordial forge.

Invigorated, Luna ascended towards the mountain’s peak. Within a few hours she approached the turn to the fortress where the day before she and Kazumi had passed in their hurried flight from the bandits.

The path narrowed as she climbed, the walls of a tight gorge pressing in on either side. She glared at the pass with deep suspicion. Unicorn instincts hissed in her ear to avoid that path. Death, she knew for certain, lay hidden further along, waiting as a tiger would in tall reeds to pounce and carry her to the underworld. For a pony, there was no other route to the witches’ fortress, with all manner of curse and foul sorcery laid in traps for the unwary.

Luna smiled, and thanked the vision of her long dead friend, for it reminded her of another way to reach the fortress. Aether entered her horn, flowed into ancient runes taught to her by Orange Delight. The blue-white glow of aether flowed over her like a misty shroud over a moonlit lake, hauntingly silent and tingling with energies formed before the first stars coalesced in the night sky, or grains of time fell in the hourglasses of eternity. Down her neck and over her strong withers rolled the aetheric fog, continuing until it covered her entirely.

The contours of Luna’s body shifted, blended, and reformed. Bones popped as they morphed beneath malleable muscle. She stood upright, wobbled, then caught herself as her back straightened. Slowly at first, and then quicker, her face flattened and became sharp, like a flint arrow. Dark fur gave way to ivory skin while her powdery blue mane darkened to a shiny black that fell to her waist. Hooves split into fingers and toes at the ends of toned arms and legs. A small bosom with pert breasts bloomed above a flat stomach, and the transformation was complete. Where a unicorn had stood moments before there was now a beautiful woman, strong and vital, with features of such striking wonder that they had stolen the hearts of princes, kings, tyrants, and lords. Only her eyes remained unchanged, still the same, piercing tamerlane blue, so utterly different from the dark browns and blacks of the men of the disc.

She took a moment to stretch and flex, reacquainting herself with the peculiarities of a bipedal body. Rocking on the balls of her new feet, she quickly found her balanced and center of gravity. This done, she retrieved her bags, and the small box that contained all her possessions. Her pony barding had not been the only armour she owned. The armour of her years in the lands of the Soulless, with all its dents and damage, slid over her with ease. Fur lined bracers from Tarkania, steel breastplate from Parmeria, Narmedian greaves and leather armour skirt; it was a hodge-podge of styles that managed to form a whole. Other than her bare upper arms, she found the protection adequate.

After donning her armour, Luna took quick stock of her remaining aether, and found it greatly depleted. Unconcerned, as she’d never mastered the knack for spellcraft as a human, she cast a long look up the gorge’s sides.

With the speed of a supple panther, she leapt up the rocky slope. Hands grasped ledges, and with supernatural strength she pulled herself up the cliff face. Only a couple times she slipped, stones clattering before crashing to the bottom of the gorge far below. Digging her toes into a crack, Luna gathered herself, then launched herself upwards. Fingers clapped over a narrow handhold. For a moment she dangled by one arm over the long drop, then she pulled herself over the edge with a growl.

Atop the gorge, she found a long slope of ground all the way to the fortress walls. Darting from the shadows of large boulders, Luna moved with added care. Half-way across the slope instincts compelled her to dive aside. No sooner had she hurled herself sideways than a thick bolt of pulsating pink lightning smote the earth where she’d have been if not for honed reflexes. Crouched low behind a split rock, Luna paused, took a deep breath, the leapt out like a lioness towards a gazelle. Another blast of pulsating magic tore at the ground, scoring it black and licking at the heels of Luna’s sandaled feet. Landing palm first, Luna rolled behind the next boulder.

Fifty yards remained between Luna and the walls. If not for the lightning, Luna would have believed herself alone on the mountainside. She’d yet to see the source of the magic for even a moment. As she redied herself for the next sprint, a horned head appeared over the parapets, glassy eyes staring out over the rocky plain in search of her. Grabbing a stone in a slender hand, Luna cocked back her arm. With a sharp yell she hurled the stone.

Up and out, higher and higher, it arced until, at the very precipice of its flight, it was met by a scintillating blast of energy. There the stone hung suspended as if on marionette strings, a black spec within the flashing white, for several seconds before it fell in a long stream of dust grabbed by the wind and scattered over the mountain slopes. Had that been Luna or any mortal flesh, the effect would have been no less destructive. Yet, Luna now knew it was not the witches themselves casting spells up on the walls, but rather their acolytes or slaves. The spellwork was too slow and imprecise for the witches.

Emboldened, Luna leapt out again.

Were she a normal woman of ordinary flesh, blood, and spirit, she would have made no more than a few strides before being transfixed by hellish magics. Body sculpted by powerful, transformative energies, and animated by primordial will, she kept a step ahead of the spells that rained upon the slope. Long, lithe legs carried her with the speed of a panther, dark hair flying about her like an obsidian cape as she darted and dodged. Far and wide, the brilliant flashes and deafening retorts of a cloudless storm were observed as Luna taunted the acolytes of the black fortress. Once a bolt came close enough to almost kiss her cheek, and a couple burnt the tips of her luscious hair. None came any closer.

At last the acolytes’ magics were spent, and a pervasive silence once again claimed the mountainside. Chest heaving with breath, Luna sped towards the gatehouse. The fortress lacked a moat, or even a portcullis, the inhabitants entirely reliant on their potent sorcery and the dread of the witches to keep invaders away. Only a teak door banded with iron stood in her way.

Again, instincts screamed a warning. Instead of rings to pull the doors open, there were the heads of brass serpents with bodies coiled through the teak like scaled rope. Emeralds shined with menace in their eyes, and Luna could sense them waiting for her to draw near enough to strike. From her hip she drew her tanto, and in a quick slash struck the closest head. An unnatural shriek burst from the snake along with a gush of thick, acrid black blood. Where the blood splattered it sizzled and burnt the ground. A quick spin put Luna out of reach of the deadly ichor. The other snake hissed, rose up, and was similarly struck from the door.

Guardians removed, the heavy door was shoved open. It took all Luna’s strength, equal to that of a giant barbarian whois arms were made of corded steel as thick as most others thighs, to wrench open the mighty portal. Protesting with a deep groan, the ancient hinges swung with the greatest of reluctance.

Peering through the crack, Luna saw a narrow courtyard filled with a rolling, rosy cloud. On the far side a set of broad steps led to a raised section that circled the length of the courtyard. Up on this area the panting acolytes had arrayed themselves with long handled curved knives gripped in weak auras. With their aether so spent, even this was an effort.

They could not run without suffering the wrath of the witches, who they feared worse than the prospect of facing one of the Soulless, or even death’s icy grasp.

After sucking in a deep breath through madly grinning teeth, Luna leapt out into the floating clouds, and dashed towards the far side. She dared not let the rosy tinted clouds touch her. A worn path showed where the acolytes crossed the courtyard, and this she followed. All became bedlam as she landed among the stunned acolytes. Whatever powers the clouds possessed held no sway over her.

Elbow connecting with the first unicorn’s jaw, she sent him tumbling over the edge. He hit the ground with a weighty clunk, mouth open in a silent scream. Thrashing about, the unicorn spasmed with such violence the snapping of bones could be heard. His back arched, and a bloody foam gurgled from the corners of his gaping mouth. On and on poured the foam, until all that remained was a withered mummy, as if it lain in a desert for a thousand years.

Luna ignored the unicorn’s death throes, and threw herself at the remaining acolytes with a bloody minded abandon. Her tanto slashed and stabbed in a silver flash of lethal steel, red ribbons of hot blood flowing in its wake. While still sore from the many wounds left by the bandits, and climbing back up the mountain, Luna was beyond all but the greatest of knights when it came to a blade, no matter the form she took.

Among the acolytes she waded with fatalistic fury until their bodies were heaped about her thighs.

With the back of a hand she wiped blood from her face, and proceeded onward.

8: Ajrog

Into a cathedral tall entrance hall Luna slunk. High overhead leered the grim aspects of stone fiends, gnarled hands tight on the lips of their perches. About them swirled carven scenes of all manner of debauchery. Thin limbed mares writhed in the fierce embraces of dragons. Stallions were consumed by the same beasts, while beyond them burned a desolate wasteland. Enchanted by an expert spellsmith, the scenes moved as if animated into a mockery of life.

Suppressing a shiver, Luna moved deeper into the hall. Around her sprang sardonic laughter from every shadow. Candles blazed higher in their sconces, almost blinding in the previous darkness.

Before Luna appeared the witches, aglow with seductive poise. They swayed and watched her with furious yellow eyes.

“What is this that steals into our home and slays our pets? Why, a brute of the west!” purred Sakura, her full lips pulled into a coy smile.

“Selene’s blade should be dead. We killed her, dear sister,” Oka responded, looking Luna over from head to toe. “And in such a lovely form, too. Far more fitting a she-beast than the soft fur of a pony. It befits one nearly as soaked in blood as we, dear sisters.”

Luna made to leap at the witches, tanto held tight in her hand, but found herself checked by some translucent barrier of oily strands. About her they flung themselves, grasping her by the legs, arms, and throat. Luna’s eyes bulged with rage, her sinewy muscles quavered in taught iron strands. Even with her magical strength, the strands held her fast, their strength drawn from the hellish pits beneath Tartarus from whence they’d been summoned.

“She seeks to steal our lawfully claimed prize,” Oka tutted, and shook her head. “It is a wonder that she thought to challenge our millenia old sorcery, gleaned from Aesmyr’s own madness spewing dreams!”

The witches laughed as one, the sound akin to a rotten finger trailing down Luna’s cheek.

Her heart beat with furious ire, spurred by her royal blood tempered in battle’s forge. Each thump shook her, filled her with growing hatred for the witches.

Laughing louder at her spiteful flashing tamerlane eyes, the witches called out, “Ajrog! Come, play with this thief. Feast on her entrails, and bring us her still beating heart as a prize.”

Out of the darkness above the witches unfolded a nightmarish creature. A primeval beastial horse twice the size of the greatest steeds of Tarkania, whose horse-lords were renowned for the strength of their mounts, with wings of tattered supple leathery black, the demon landed before Luna on bleeding hooves. Serpent fangs parted snarling lips in a wedged shaped head, and a forked tongue tasted the hatred in the air gleefully. Worst of all were its eyes. Malevolent orange, they oozed a foul ichor that brought a wave of revulsion over Luna.

Bound, there was nothing Luna could do against such a fiend. She strained until sweat poured down her face and back. A defiant shriek gathered in her throat.

Dripping foulness, the demon loomed over Luna with lustful hunger. Rancid breath washed over Luna, cloying in her nose and making her gag. Ajrog’s tongue trailed down her cheek, tasting the bloody sweat splattered over her face. Adamantine will shining from Luna’s eyes grew brighter.

With a yell of one acquainted with death, who knew him almost as a lover, Luna broke the bonds holding her fast. Like shards of shattered crystal, the strands fell away.

Possessing the speed of a wild jungle cat, Luna thrust her tanto at the demon’s breast. The blade slid along rubbery flesh, bent, and then broke. Only a thin line of brackish blood oozed from the superficial wound. Before Luna’s eyes the shallow cut mended with a hiss as she jumped back. Her incredible speed was overcome, Ajrog moving quicker than even her honed reflexes.

Struck by a wing as a blood curdling roar rattled from Ajrog’s foul throat, Luna was hurled across the hall. She struck a column with a sick crunch, breath exploding from her lungs, and would have died there had she not tensed her back into a steel hard frame. Stars burst before stunned eyes, and her fiery, adventurous spirit urged her to move.

She rolled aside just as one of Ajrog’s massive hooves crushed the spot on which she’d landed. Springing up, Luna groped over her shoulder for Kazumi’s sword. It swung free with a gleeful ringing tone.

On the first swing, Luna sheared off one tattered wing. As if possessed of a will its own, the wing flopped, spasmed, and refused to still. Ignoring the unsightly display, Luna hurled herself at Ajrog as the demon reeled back. Wounded, howling with incoherent agonised rage, Alrog was far from defeated. Around snapped its whiplike tail. The barbed tip cut through Luna’s breastplate as if it were common cloth. Hot blood washed down Luna’s breasts from a deep gash stretching across the top of her chest.

Luna staggered back, and then set her feet. Advancing, the next several minutes were filled with hacking, slashing ferocity. Neither side gave an inch, yells accompanying rending blows. Deep gashes opened on Luna’s thighs and arms, and Ajrog’s heavy blows threatened to buckled her legs. She worked with equal abandonment. Spurred to greater effort, she severed Ajrog’s bladed tail, then his head. Splattered with fiendish, black blood mixed with her own vital red lifeforce, Luna stood on wobbling legs over her defeated foe. One, twice the massive brute twitched, and then lay still.

Ajrog was dead.

“How?!” Shrieked the witches. “How could our beautiful Ajrog have fallen?”

Across the hall Luna sprinted. Her legs burned with exhaustion and chest heaved for breath. She neared the limits of even her supernatural endurance. Yet, her sword felt light in her hands, as if she’d only just taken it up.

At the witches flew an avatar of doom, and the witches threw themselves into spellwork with desperate speed. From Umeko flew spheres of blue fire. To touch them was death. They swarmed like bees until they formed an impenetrable cloud.

Luna fell back, eyes darting about the chamber in search of escape. There was none. A sheet of rainbow light sprang over the entrance she’d used to access the hall. As Luna watched, one of the balefire orbs impacted the shimmering wall. A brilliant flash and tremendous bang rang out as the two forces clashed. Arm thrown up over her face, Luna swore an oath to Ishtara.

The witches cackled, once more assure of imminent victory. Ajrog’s destruction was nothing more than a minor setback. Luna had nowhere to run, and the witches were beyond her reach. Tighter, she gripped her odachi, until her already ivory knuckles went white as snow. Defeat never found purchase in her heart. The wild spirit that had carried her through dozens of perils, each enough to claim the fiercest of men or bravest of ponies, filled her breast.

If this was to be her death, it would be in the whirlwind of dancing blades and pounding blood, not crouching behind a pillar like some coward. Luna, last of the Coltsicans, refused to fall mewling as she prostrated herself for mercy.

She unleashed a warcry and bounded into the cloud of balefire orbs. Silvery moonsteel flashed quicker than the eye could follow in a cross. Smashed balefire washed over the odachi, seared the soft skin of her hands, and was devoured by the blade like a wolf feasting on the inner parts of its prey.

Only a single globe needed slip through her guard, and she would be the one consumed. Sweat flowed down her face, ran in thick rivulettes over arms and back. In a fevered pitch she swung, but failed to advance. Luna began to be pushed back towards the lethal rainbow wall.

Her hair crackled in the scintillating energies of the wall, heels on the very edge, when a side door to the hall burst open.

9: The Blade Named

Samurai retainers of Shogun Himiko were sent in search of the princess when she failed to reach her father’s castle. In groups of ten they followed the roads south. One such group came on the village beneath Himoe-Uma shortly after Luna departed to rescue Kazumi.

From the villagers they learned how the princess had been in the company of a foreign barbarian, the slaughter that followed, and the arrival of the witches to whisk Kazumi away. After sending a messenger bird to inform the shogun of the grim news, the samurai followed Luna up the mountain.

There’s was a grim procession, certain of the doom that awaited them on the cursed slopes. As they climbed, they heard the battle rage ahead. Lowering their heads, they hurried up the slopes, passing by where Luna had transformed and left the path. The stallion in the lead died a few short strides afterwards. His eyes rolled luredly in his head, tongue hanging from parted, blue lips twisted in silent agony. A convulsion powerful enough to snap his neck shook him. Though his head hung at an unnatural angle, he remained standing rigidly in place. Every fibre of his body had been turned to stone. Even his armour had become eternal granite.

Shocked, the samurai drew back along the gorge and discovered the route Luna took out of the ensorcelled pass. Taking turns, they levitated each other up the otherwise impassable cliff, unknowingly mimicking methods used by unicorns of the west, who lived in mountains far steeper and jagged than those of Neighpon.

Over ground scoured black, and through the open gate they charged. Here they paused a moment to gape at the carnage of Luna’s passage. Ajrog’s roar jolted them back to action. Finding the door to the main hall held fast by powerful enchantments, the nine samurai made their way along the courtyard until they came to a side entrance used by the now dead acolytes of the witches. They came out onto a gallery overlooking the hall. The gallery ended in stairs down to a servant’s corridor. From this vantage the samurai watched as Luna struck Ajrog down and confronted the witches.

Why one of the Soulless of the west confronted the witches, the samurai did not question. Down the stairs they raced to burst into the hall and charge the witches with drawn steel.

Against any other foe, with such surprise, the nine would have carried the day. It was against supernatural foes they flung themselves, spawned from the loins of an aged dragon.

With agility to match Luna’s own, the witches reacted together. The first three samurai fell to the balefire orbs. Hideous death screams tore from their throats, bodies engulfed by unquenchable flames. Within moments only charred bones remained, twisted into grim aspects that mocked life. The others pressed onward, undeterred, fatalistic jaws set. They too would have fallen, if not for Luna.

The moment the samurai appeared, Luna seized her chance. With the graceful ferocity of a tiger, she pounced. Down arced her sword at the youngest witch. Laughing with murderous glee, Umeko failed to notice her danger until her head toppled to the floor, and she looked up at the blood spurting from her own neck.

Still, she refused to die. Her headless body staggered towards Luna as Umeko formed voiceless curses. Another terrific slash, and her body was split so that even her foul spirit failed to keep it animate.

So died Umeko the Blue.

At the destruction of their sister, Sakura and Oka unleashed a horrendous wail that seared Luna’s ears and struck the samurai dumb. Around herself and her sister, Oka threw up a crystal barrier. Recovered, the samurai slashed their blades at the witches throats, only for them to clang and rebound.

Before they could swing again, Sakura hurled a ruinous glare. Luna and the samurai saw the room waver, like they peered through a warped mirror. Luna flet a powerful, horrific presence at the edges of her mind. It attempted to enter her thoughts, bend her to an alien will. Swaying, Luna clenched her teeth and steeled her wild heart against the intruder.

For an eternal moment the battle between minds waged. At last there was a noise like splintering wood and Luna staggered forward. In the contours of thought, where spirit and will prowled, she sensed the triumphant, smug satisfaction of her sword. Any crude attempt to ensorcel her mind would fail as long as it remained in her grasp. Ever would she be protected from all but the most insidious of foreign influence.

Lacking protection, the samurai wavered and were overcome, except for one.

When they arranged themselves before the witches, the last samurai said nothing. He looked at Luna, and each saw the spark of independent intellect in the other. Without comment they stood side-by-side, weapons at the ready.

Both sides sprang at the same moment. Four to one, ordinarily even Luna’s prodigious talent, dulled by battle, would have been overcome by fighters of such skill as the samurai. Swords flashed in razor winds. The superior reach of a unicorn aura was matched by the long blade of Luna’s odachi combined with her supple speed. Steel clashed in the ringing song of desperate battle. A spray of hot crimson blood, and a possessed samurai fell, his chest cleaved open. Panting, with fresh wounds on her bare upper arms and thighs, Luna dashed over the fallen unicorn. The others leapt to intercept. It was a ruse, and when Luna landed she barely touched the ground before she pivoted, sprang up, and brought her odachi down on the witch’s shield. Luna’s eyes shined with the triumphant, frosty gleam of a wolf as the shield shattered like brittle glass.

At once the witches fled, fear for an outsider in the blackened, withered hearts for the first time in their unnatural lives. Into deeper chambers they flew on oily clouds. From these chambers came a mortal scream born of a pony’s throat and tormented spirit.

The sound of his princess imperrelled drove fresh vigor into the last samurai. Violent bursts of motion followed, his and Luna’s swords working in unspoken unison. Each flowed with the others movements as if they’d fought beside each other their entire lives.

Bereft of their new mistress’ presence, the remaining enslaved samurai became sluggish, minds dulled as if in a lotus fog. A single swing opened up the throats of Luna’s foes, sticky blood splattering over her sandaled feet. Next to her, her newfound companion worked with equal brutality. There was no pity nor hesitation in the stroke of his flashing steel. The lives of his former companions ended the moment the witches stole their minds, and honour.

Alone except for the dead, Luna and the samurai faced each other. Kinship born on the battlefield shone between their eyes. Though she had little trust for the nobles of Neighpon, and he thought her to be one of the beastial Soulless, each made exceptions for the other.

She acted with honour, and carried the fierce bearing of a true warrior. He showed strength of spirit and skill with a blade to equal Luna’s own. All this was communed in a glance, and by unspoken agreement they gave chase after the witches.

Through cloistered halls of fiendish natures they dashed. Few entered the inner chambers of the fortress and managed to avoid recoiling in superstitious horror. Effigies to the dark gods of ancient nightmares covered every surface, leering at the pair intruding on their domain. Stairs of jet inlaid with jade figures of demonic origins, and embossed in glimmering gold, descended towards the most unholy place in the black fortress. There, on a dias covered in soft silks, lay Kazumi as an offering to the witches’ draconic father. From the princess they intended the addition of a new sister carrying the burning blood of dragonkind mixed with the noble line of the Neighpon royalty.

Beneath Kazumi’s chin Oka held a curved dagger used to carve the still beating hearts from sacrifices on the same altar.

“Halt!” cried the witches, “Or we will slit the princess’ pretty throat.”

Kazumi trembled in unspeakable terror. Her dress was gone, replaced by the bridle of a broodmare. Jeweled bangles encircled thin limbs, and her tail was done up in harlots braids to make her ready for her intended purpose. Beneath wide eyes was painted thick khol bands.

“Khonda!” She whimpered to her loyal retainer. “By Faust, run away! Escape! I am lost!”

Khonda hesitated, impetus of action conflicting with the demands of his princess.

No such divided loyalties warred in Luna’s breast. With the ferocity of a thunderbolt she struck. Over her head arched arms taught with all her remaining strength. With a roar she hurled her sword. As it flew from her fingers, Luna banished the transformation of her body. Torn armour burst off her natural shape, clattering about her in a spray of dented plate and mail shards. Hooves clacked on the jet black marble floor, blue mane flying about her horn sheathed in a unicorn’s aura. Distracted by Luna’s transformation, nopony noticed an identical glow direct her sword until too late.

Blood spurted as Luna sank her blade into Oka’s withers, shattering the witch’s spine and bisecting her unholy soul-mark. With a savage twist and yank, Luna completely bisected Oka.

An unearthly cry of rage howled from Sakura at the loss of her remaining sister. Even in her fury, she knew better than to challenge such an avatar of destruction. The tides of Fate were against her. She shimmered, and vanished, retreating to a place Luna could not follow.

“Luna?” Kazumi gaped at the ragged, tottering Coltsican. “I believed you dead, yet here you are, flesh and whole. It is like a nightmare turned to surreal dream. Am I dead? Is this some fever in the moment before the thanes come to claim me?”

Around Luna’s neck Kazumi threw her hooves, and held her tight.

“Let me go,” Luna snapped, her shining blue eyes sweeping over the jade walls. “The witch will be back soon for vengeance. She has retreated to form a new evil within which to bring us our dooms.” With flagging strength she removed the princess.

“We must be away before the witch recouvers, Your Highness,” agreed Khonda.

This at last sombered Kazumi. They fled along the same path Luna had carved, retracing her steps. In the entrance hall Ajrog’s body had become a slimy mass, bones thrusting out at maddening angles, hissing and bubbling as it churned. While crossing the courtyard Kazumi gaped at the heaped dead bodies. Together, Luna and Khonda carried Kazumi down the sheer cliff into the gorge, setting her next to the statue of the first, unfortunate samurai. Down the mountain they galloped like the hounds of Tartarus brayed at their tails.

Hateful eyes lay heavy on their backs. Only when they neared the village did they dare slow. Kazumi turned to thank her saviours when a great winged shape swooped from the grey skies. Luna’s instincts snapped like the twang of a taught bow. She pushed Kazumi out of the path of seeking talons, each as long as her odachi.

Her strength was far beyond even her exceptional limits. Any other would have fainted long before. Adamantine will alone kept her on her hooves. Luna glared bolts of defiance at the screeching doom that fell towards her.

Talons began to close around her. Then, from between the narrow homes of the village, lept a giant fox. Fangs clamped onto the diving horror, and tore it apart. Wings became legs of a pony, the face equine, not some hellish beast. Bone cracked, and the fox tore free the witch’s beating black heart. So perished Sakura, last witch of Himoe-Uma.

Warilly, Kazumi and Khonda watched the giant fox with its four tails that danced like flames in a hearth. Golden eyes shone from a face of shimmering dark blue.

Luna collapsed at last with a laugh. “Orange Delight! Why did you wait so long? That witch almost got me.”

“A wizard arrives only in the knick of time, just as they intend, and never a moment before necessary,” spoke the fox in a voice that rumbled in the hearts of those who listened. “Besides, had I stepped on that mountain, the witches would have known and been on their guard. You always thrived on that sort of thing. As you have again.”

Orange bowed her head to the odachi thrust through Luna’s gridle.

“Aye, Tamashi has served me well. She is already like an old friend. But, you knew that already.”

“I did, just as I know she will serve you for many more. Beyond the fall and rise of Queendoms, the madness of the draconiquus, and the longest of nights. And no, I ain’t going to give you no details, so don’t bother asking.” Orange chuckled, and crossed her paws as she laid down.

“Well, this has been a night of hot work. I really could use some wine, now,” Luna leaned against her oldest friend, returned to her after what seemed impossible journeys. Next to her Kazumi and Khonda sat down, surrounding her in friends old and new, and Luna was content for the first time in years.

Up on the mountain, the black fortress trembled, and slid from sight, gone forevermore.

Author's Note

This chapter is edited only by myself.

Two years. I started this story nearly two years ago. It has undergone a fair number of changes in that time. There are places where the style shifts a bit. A byproduct of long stretches of time between writing segments. The last half, from when Luna goes back up Himoe-Uma after Kazumi onward, is very strongly influenced by Howard's work.

I treat the 'Young Luna' stories as love-letters to the pulp stories Howard penned of Conan. Luna herself bears strong resemblance to Howard's titular character. While both are pragmatists, thrive in battle, and are adventurous souls, Luna is a broken character in this story, who has almost given up and disengaged from life. She wanders aimlessly, caring only enough about tomorrow to have enough wine to drink herself into a stupor.

Originally Tatsuo was going to be the big-bad, with him and Luna ending up dueling before the gates of Kazumi's palace. Tamashi was also, initially, intended to be a reward for Luna saving her from bandits using only a stick.

Some might remember that it was mentioned that was how Luna received Tamashi. Unless, it was only in my notes. Actually, I can't recall if it has been mentioned before in a published story how Luna got her sword. Oh, well, this is the (new?) canonical version!