Age of the Alicorn

Chapter 3: A Sparkle of Hope at Twilight – Part 1

“Uhhh…” groaned the purple pony as her head rung “…that was some strange magic.”

Rubbing her temple to help soothe the aching, Twilight winced as her horn jolted with pain. Then, as it subsided, she placed all four hooves onto the ground and lifted her body to where she could stand straight.

Her dark navy blue mane, with its central racing pink and nighttime purple streaks, hugged her head and ran along her neckline. The wings that protruded from her sides rested at their natural tilt, aiming their feathered tips slightly above the ridgeline of her back.

Then, as the lids that covered her purple irises cracked apart, she had to blink several times to disperse the blurriness. At last, her vision was cleared and she could determine her circumstances.

Twilight gasped, her jaw dropping open as she took in all that was around her.

There was a city, but unlike any she had ever seen before.

It was shrouded in darkness, and the skies were pitch-black as a dark dome circled about the whole area. The only perceivable light that distinguished the sharp-edged, gothic-styled buildings was in the midst of the cityscape, obscured by high-rising spires and other miscellaneous structures.

Examining everything near her, she could see that she was on the outskirts of the city, and under her hooves was a small patch of an entire field of short, budding, rich purple grass leaves.

“Where in Equestria am I?” the Alicorn Princess questioned aloud.

Choosing that staying where she was at was probably the worst course of action, Twilight spread her wings and gently flapped herself past the field until she could touch down on the closest stone-laden road.

Following the path, she stepped into the city.

But, as a few minutes passed, she hadn’t heard a noise, noticed a change of any kind, besides the differences in the buildings, nor gotten closer to the source of light in the distance, which she remedied by using her horn to shine a bright beam in front of her.

Worse yet, the eerie silence was even more nerve-wracking due to their not being a single breeze.

The thought of a breeze suddenly sent a chill down Twilight’s spine as she realized just how cold the air was.

“Hello!” she exclaimed, glancing all around. “Anypony else out there?”

When nopony answered, she began to think that she was all alone.

Then, from behind her, a light buzzed to life, catching her off guard.

“Huh?” the slightly startled mare murmured as she placed a hoof forward and kept the other posed at the ready while eyeing the area from which the new addition of luminescence was shining.

It wasn’t half a second later that she caught the perpetrator – a black pole, jutting up from the corner of the stone walkway that ran beside a series of buildings, contained a ball of pure white light inside of a glass lamp at the top of its form.

“Where did that come from?” Twilight’s inquisitive nature arose from within her.

Taking a few hoofsteps closer, she looked for a solution to the mysterious conundrum.

“Well, it’s not a flame,” deduced the pony, tapping her jaw with the tip of her hoof, “and it’s not running on electricity. So…”

Focusing her mind, Twilight flashed a spark of magic through her horn, and the answer came to her.

“…it’s magic!”

The possibilities ran through her mind, such as the potential of a pony who could generate such a unique type of spell, not to mention the prospect of another pony!

“But not just any kind of magic,” Twilight reasoned as she pondered on the feel of the thing, “it almost seems like it could be… alive.”

Almost instantaneously, another lamp lit up, and then another, and yet another.

Watching the spectacle unfold, the cautiously curious Alicorn witnessed as a path was clearly illuminated through the old city.

“Well, this isn’t the least bit spooky,” Twilight said sarcastically, barely allowing her nervousness to show through her words.

Trotting at a steady pace, she followed the trail as it wound its way further into the shrouded, lifeless husk of a settled area.

As seconds shifted into minutes, and the scenery changed little by little, her mind began to return to Ponyville.

“Since I was taken to wherever here is, I wonder where my friends could be?” she questioned no one in particular. “After all, this isn’t what I’d call pleasant.”

“For all I know, they could be in danger, especially Fluttershy.”

She could only imagine the frightful situations that the other girls could be stuck in at that very moment. And, on that note, she couldn’t think of a single being who could have possibly been responsible for separating them in the fashion that they had been. Discord was completely reformed, fully trustworthy, a true friend after the Tirek debacle, and there was no way he had enough magic to pull it off. Tirek was no problem, obviously. There was the Changeling Queen Chrysalis, but nopony had heard neither hoof nor hair of her since she and her horde had been banished from Equestria.

“Oh,” Twilight moaned worriedly, “I hope they’re alriiigghhh-”

Recovering from nearly tripping into an unseen ditch, the Alicorn mare had lifted her form out of a precarious spot thanks to the timely reaction of her wings.

But, as she stared at the potentially harmful source of trouble, a deep gasp sounded from the depths of her lungs.

There, imprinted into the workings of the stone road, was the four-digit paw print of a great beast, which sunk at least a few yards downwards and was possibly wide as five ponies side-by-side. In fact, the more she looked at the indention, the more she was convinced that it belonged to a fully grown dragon!

Stunned by the implications, Twilight decided to examine everything else that she could see in the light’s reach.

Starting with the rest of the road, she could determine that some patches of stone were rough and downtrodden, while the rest were smooth and unblemished. The buildings were, more or less, in the same state, with the majority bearing a distinct touch of worn textures and cracks in their walls, a few even damaged. And yet, a hoofful of the structures were also pristine in their condition, almost as if they had been built within the past hundred days.

“What could have happened here?” the somewhat distraught pony thought aloud.

Deciding that the answer lied at the end of the ongoing trail of lights, Twilight continued her quest, but with greater focus to where she stepped.

It was a mere hop, skip, and several yards of running until she was standing at the border of an open plaza.

Hardly noticing anything at first as she galloped across the middle of the clear, circular crossing, she suddenly came to an abrupt halt when she arrived at the center.

Erected before her was a statue – a figure that was well over five times her height – made entirely of a finely chiseled stone working overlaid with pieces of masterfully shaped iron: it was the visage of a muscular stallion standing atop a cylindrical platform of brick, armed in a suit of armor unlike any that Twilight had ever seen.

On its head, there was a helmet that fully enclosed the upper half of the skull, save for the eye slots, ear holes, and the point from which a long horn emerged, was adorned by a wholly metal crest that curved along the cranium, and additional plating ran down the back of the neck, covering the mane.

From its chest to its tail, there was a singular piece of plate that protected the top of the figure, and hanging on the front and from each side was a banner – a white four-pointed star on a black background.

At the ends of its legs, the statue bore heavy boots, and one of its hooves was raised as high as its chest.

When Twilight looked at it, she saw an unmoving, stalwart soldier, and one word came to mind: power.

Having sated her curiosity, she continued to etch her way across the well-lit stretches of the plaza, until she was at an opening between the buildings that let off onto a dirt road. Following the light’s path, her eyes grew to the size of saucers as she saw something more heartbreaking than everything else beforehoof.

A tall, lonesome hill, hosting what were most likely the adult forms of that same purple grass, was lined by row after row of t-shaped (what she could only assume to be) tombstones. There must have been hundreds of them.

Her senses dulled as she drew nearer to the sobering image, fears of what could be swelling inside of her.

But, a measure of relief returned to Twilight as she remembered that she couldn’t possibly be in Equestria. The evidence pointed elsewhere.

A hoof at a time, she climbed the slightly steep hillside, via the barren strip of soil that was already running up the mound.

Passing by dozens of the… markers, she realized that a number of them were decorated with varying items. Sitting beside one was a stuffed pony, similar to her old “Smarty-Pants” doll. Draped along the arm of another was a cape lined with faux fur, almost like the one that Rarity had made for her. But, most prominent of all, were the few dozen pieces that were dawned with a helmet, much like the one that was on the head of the statue.

Then, at the peak, was a monument, a slab of a single white stone that was planted into the ground and presented a single statement, written on a plaque of gold.

“Here lie the ponies of a once great nation,” Twilight began to read, her voice cracking a touch, “May their souls rest in peace.”

Feeling inclined to look, she walked beyond the wide wall-like structure, and her heart nearly quit as she tiphooved past the end.

Going on, for at least a mile, were vast fields, littered by thousands of the tombstones, and flowered both by the purple blades of grass and strange, almost luminescent, blooms of indigo. It was all set in-between the city, and came to a dead end at a series of hills. Every part of it was so easy to see thanks to the strongest source of light there was, which was just over the horizon.

Still, her mind was in a steel-trap as she panted at the picture.

“This is… horrible,” she finally voiced.

“Aye, it was.”

Twilight froze.

“And who are you?”

“Ah!” she shouted, jumping into the air and twisting around.

As she maintained her position, she glanced back to her former spot.

Not too far away, a cloaked figure in a black robe stood beside a double grave, his face hidden by the hood and only the edge of his white muzzle and hooves could be seen.

“My apologies,” the unusually accented stranger pleaded for her forgiveness, “I did not mean ta’ frighten you. But, muh question still stands.”

“Uuh…” the mare said, unsure of what to make of the stallion “…yeah.” Flapping back down to the earth, she cleared her throat with a light cough. “I’m Twilight Sparkle,” she introduced herself with her signature awkward smile.

“Twilight Sparkle,” he repeated, rolling the name off of his tongue, “a nice name that is.”

“Th-aaa-nk youuu,” she dragged her reply, remaining suspicious of the mysterious newcomer.

“I um Advent,” he stated, barely budging from his stance as he tilted his hood to the point that his glowing golden eyes were visible.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Advvvv…” Twilight began relatively fine, before she was interrupted by a round of shivers.

“Please, take mine,” he offered, using his horn from underneath the cover of his cloak to generate a field of golden magic around the cape that was lying on a tombstone on the side of the hill and levitated it to the freezing filly.

“Thank you,” she sincerely expressed her gratitude, accepting the gift with her own magenta magic.

While latching the collar into place to complete the dressing process, she noticed a detail that had escaped her – Advent was well over a head taller than she was! Plus, she was starting to think that she heard hints of the Trottingham dialect whenever he spoke, but there was a certain twang to it.

“Excuse me,” she uttered, “Could I ask you a question?”

“Why, of course, mulady,” he replied in a gentlecoltly fashion.

“Hehehe-eh,” she giggled embarrassingly, and then recomposed herself with a cough. “With all due respect, what happened here?”

“I would gladly tell you, if,” Advent propositioned, “you would accept muh invitation to join me at my abode.”

“Sure, I guess,” Twilight agreed to the offer, retaining a portion of her earlier suspicions for the rather peculiar pony.

Then, with an extended hoof that remained inside of his cloak, the stallion gestured to a second dirt road that deviated from the hill and across the whole length of the graveyard.

So the two ponies began their walk, keeping a gap between each other while remaining opposite to one another.

It wasn’t until a minute of dreary silence had gone by that Twilight decided to break the ice that had frozen over their conversation.

“To tell you the truth,” she commented, paying him a passing glance, “I was beginning to think that I was the only pony here.”

“Aye. Only un hour ago did I think that I was alone,” Advent admitted.

“Wait,” she blurted, “you mean-”

“-that before you arrived, there was nopony else?” He sighed heavily. “Aye.”

She could only stare blankly at him.

Sighing again, the stallion stated, “I know you want to know why, so would you mind if I gave you uh history lesson?”

The sudden turn of events brought silent excitement to Twilight as she always enjoyed learning.

“Of course,” Advent plainly worded, “I’ll try to be brief, and keep it general.”

“Oh, no,” the eager school-filly at heart begged, “please, be as detailed as you can.”

“I appreciate that,” he replied, “but it might be best if I kept it short.”

Moping on the inside, she accepted his decision with the thought “Fine”.

Breathing deeply and exhaling softly, Advent began, “Right…”

“Many moons ago,” he narrated, not missing a step as he spoke, “uh group, no, uh nation of refugees fled from their old homeland, escaping uh cataclysm that had ravaged it.”

The severity of the intro took Twilight by surprise as she had not expected such a shocking start.

“For nearly two whole years, they scaled mountains, crossed seas, and survived blizzards, in search of their new home,” he recited as though he were reading a book, “They traveled far, looking for uh new land in which they could start anew.”

“Then, they found it – uh place that had everything they needed, and more.”

“So, they began building, and, following several months of back-breaking labor, they had crafted uh town, one they named Hooflend,” a certain hint of pride seemed to voice itself as Advent talked.

“Definitely not in Equestria,” Twilight mentally noted.

“As their fair hamlet developed into a full-fledged city,” the hooded storyteller further unraveled his tale, “tha’ three thousand, or so, ponies of the land chose, as one, to found uh nation, the kingdom of Steedstone.”

“Unique, to say the least,” she critiqued the story to herself.

“In tha’ midst of their joyous celebration,” he continued, a smidgen of a smile on his muzzle, “there came news from tha’ capital that truly brought cheer, for the royal couple, the king and queen, had given birth to an heir.”

Twilight smiled in return at the wonderful event that had taken place according to the historical recounting.

But Advent had paused, a lull of pained neutrality setting over the pair of ponies as a result.

“Sadly,” he presumed, yet with a tone of faint familiarity to an unspoken tragedy, “it was no sooner that tha’ queen had given her last breath of strength to bear her child, and then she passed on into tha’ arms of eternity.”

Although sharing the hurt of such a tragic circumstance, Twilight couldn’t help the fascination she held for his wording.

“Tha’ king was devastated,” Advent elaborated, “After all, he and the queen had been inseparable, almost to tha’ point of obsession.”

“In fact,” he said more directly to his listener, “some manuscripts of earlier historians say that they were consumed with thoughts only for one another, which was tha’ reason why tha’ nation of ponies had previously put together uh council that would serve tha’ role of advisors and, on occasion, would rule in place of tha’ monarchy to ensure tha’ stability of tha’ realm.”

“Wow, that’s elaborate,” the purple pony replied.

“It was truly something,” he stated, almost sarcastically.

“Please, go on,” Twilight urged, ignoring her confusion as to his reaction.

“As I was saying,” the narrator proceeded from beneath his cloak, “tha’ king could not bear his pain anymore and just ceased ta’ want ta’ live.”

“With tha’ loss of tha’ king and tha’ queen, tha’ ponies of Steedstone mourned and tha’ Steedstone Council made uh decision ta’ rule in place of tha’ monarchy until tha’ prince had come of age to take his place on tha’ throne.”

“And so, for several hundred years, tha’ kingdom of Steedstone, led by tha’ descendants of tha’ prince who became uh king, grew. Through prosperity and poverty, tha’ nation expanded ta’ twenty, maybe even thirty, times as large as it had begun.”

The sudden upturn in the story’s mood brought warmth to Twilight’s heart.

“It was at its peak,” the stallion said, “Never before had such uh time of wealth and good tidings been upon tha’ land… And then…”

Advent came to a stop as he choked up, immediately earning an equal reaction from his guest.

“…it happened,” he deadpanned somberly.

“‘It’?” Twilight questioned him worriedly.

He turned his hooded head and looked at her with a face that conveyed brokenness mixed with, strangely, shame.

“Tha’ war…” he expressed grimly.

A gasp of pure fright overtook Twilight before she mouthed “war?”

Advent nodded and aimed his eyes ahead of him once again.

“It all started with sightings in tha’ frontier territories, small things that barely caught anyone’s attention,” his words were those of grief, “but then, ponies began to go missing from tha’ border-towns, and fear started to grip tha’ hearts of those who dwelt there.”

“Without warning, uh village was no longer making contact with other nearby settlements, so family and friends investigated.” He paused, staring at the ground for a moment. “What they found… was disheartening.”

The scenes that began playing in the mare’s head were beginning to unnerve her, but she refrained from believing the worst…

“Tha’ village had been burnt ta’ ashes,” he exhaled, almost painfully.

…And, there went Twilight’s notion of hoping for a happy ending.

“They looked, and they searched, but there was nopony to be found to tell what had happened.”

The eerie silence and general lack of life that was imbued upon their surroundings only amplified the sense of despair that seemed to grow with the tale.

“All of uh sudden,” Advent continued, “more villages came under attack, and tha’ Royal Steedstone Army mobilized to march upon our foes.”

“That was good, right?” Twilight asked, reserving her happiness for when he concluded.

“If only…” he answered indirectly. Exhaling heavily from his nostrils, the dreary voiced stallion remained still for a second as he collected his thoughts.

“Reports began ta’ make their way back ta’ tha’ capital, and it was made known that tha’ Army was in a steady retreat, maintaining tha’ line whenever they could ta’ allow as many ponies as possible ta’ escape.”

Her mouth hung agape as she imagined the horrible reality of his implications as to the fate of the nation of Steedstone.

“It wasn’t until refugees poured in from tha’ battlefront that stories of tha’ enemy became public,” Advent stated, “Un army of dark creatures was sweeping across the land, sparing nopony, young or old, healthy or infirm, stallion or mare.”

The thought of such atrocities shook Twilight to the core and made her feel like a little filly who wanted to hide behind her mommy and daddy, if that were an option.

“Within nearly uh week’s time, tha’ first city came under siege,” the words were dry and accompanied a sense of loss as they left the cloaked figure’s form, “By another week’s passing, all that was left of Steedstone was tha’ city of Hooflend, and tha’ ponies therein.”

Now, she was beginning to feel a tear coming on as the pain of such terrible days started to become a burden for the purple pony.

“For days, those… monsters were circled around tha’ city, and it was as though they were going to starve tha’ ponies of Hooflend out… and then… they attacked.”

A shiver of frightened horror ran down Twilight’s spine at those words.

“They started by breaking through tha’ magical barrier that tha’ nation’s last Unicorn specialists could erect-”

She didn’t know why, but her memories slipped back to the day of her brother’s and Princess Cadance’s (or, rather, the fake “Princess Mi Amore Cadenza’s”) marriage when the Changelings invaded Canterlot and broke through Shining Armor’s protection spell. The vaguely familiar resemblance gave her even more reason to shed a tear or two for the lone stranger. After all, she still had her friends and nopony had really been hurt when it had been said and done for Equestria. But, Advent had nothing. He had lost everything and everypony, as far as she could tell.

“-and they pushed into tha’ city, mercilessly sparing nopony. Even tha’ Army remnants couldn’t stop them, or at least bide their time while tha’ regular ponies fled,” the touch of guilt that was more evident in his tone was suddenly shattered by a breath of fresh air that he soaked in, “And yet, while all hope seemed lost, there was still one who stood up to give his all.”

Twilight’s purple eyes shimmered as she listened intently to the twist in the tale.

“The prince, prideful as he was, charged headlong into tha’ fray,” a personal edge bit at his speech as Advent told the tale, “Although in direct defiance to his father, his actions proved to be of tha’ utmost importance in saving the lives of hundreds, maybe even uh thousand, ponies.”

The storytelling stallion dipped his head as he stopped speaking.

Concern that her gracious host might be suffering in some way gripped her heart as Twilight questioned what to do as they both stood there on the dirt path.

“Please, Twilight,” he finally said, raising his cloaked cranium, “may I tell you tha’ rest of the tale when we arrive at muh home?”

“Oh-kay,” she replied, feeling slightly dejected. “Anticlimactic much?”

Gesturing a hoof in the direction of the road ahead, Advent let her take the first steps on their continued walk.

“Umm…” he murmured before biting his lip.

“Yes?” the mare returned from beside him.

“Would…” he began “…you mind if I were to ask you uh question?”

“Sure,” she answered.

“How did you get in here?” the curious colt inquired.

“Oh, that…” Twilight uttered, “Well, you see, it wasn’t really my choice.”

There was no response from Advent.

“My friends and I were trapped by magic bubbles,” she continued, “and then I woke up on the edge of this city.”

“Magic bubbles?” he asked rhetorically. “Interestin’.”

“Actually, they were more like fields of energy in the form of orbs that had shaped around our bodies, but…” she stopped herself “…I may be going off on a tangent, haha-haha-haaaa,” an awkward laugh slipped from her lips.

Now that she got her mind on it, she remembered that those “bubbles” were sort of like the ones that Tirek had trapped her friends in. Still, there was no resemblance between the magical essences of the spells.

“How can it be possible?” the recipient of Twilight’s words said, revealing his state of distracted contemplation.

“What’s wrong?” the patiently polite lady-pony pried at the new source of problems that appeared to be plaguing him.

“Nopony should be able ta’ get in or out of here, and yet here you are,” Advent pointed out plainly.

“What?!” she exclaimed, barely containing the fear that now swelled in her bosom.

Sighing heavily, followed by a series of deep breaths, the robed figure merely said, “This is uh prison.”

Halting in her tracks, Twilight waited for him to follow suit. “For whom?” she voiced her worries.

He didn’t move a muscle as he stood there, only a few hoofsteps away. “Me,” he answered, frankly, in a low tone.

The honesty softened the fear that she had felt, but it left her clueless as to- “Why?” she asked, hoping to hear an answer that would assuage her fears.

“Twilight,” he began again, “un evil monster trapped me in here.”

She couldn’t detect dishonesty in his words, so it was her turn to feel ashamed. “Oh…” she awkwardly managed to breathe a sigh of relief “…I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need for that,” Advent accepted her apology while turning his shiny irises in her general direction. “Now, if you still feel up to it, you’re always welcome ta’ muh home.”

“Of course,” she responded with a smile.

Moving on, the pair of ponies remained silent for a short distance. And then, a question began to bug Twilight.

“How… long have you been stuck here?” she posed her inquiry.

“According ta’ muh calculations,” he easily recited his response as it came from the top of his head, “I estimate uh total of seven years, five months, three weeks, five days, and three hours.”

An almost goatish sound groaned from the inner depths of Twilight as her muzzle hung agape at the jaw-dropping revelation. “You mean you’ve been all alone for all those moons? Wh-what have you’ve been doing all that time?”

“Oh, plenty of reading,” he gingerly joked.

“Reading?” she abruptly interjected. “As in, books? As in, a large collection?”

The mare had drawn little more than a mane’s flip away from the cloaked figure, who was now cringing slightly and keeping his face hidden in the folds of his hood.

“Aye,” Advent said as he stepped back and straightened himself. “You might even say that I’ve accumulated quite tha’ library.”

“What are we waiting for?!” Twilight cheerily shouted as she reared her front hooves into the air.

“Well, we do still have uh long walk ahead of us, and plenty of time to talk,” the particularly perplexed guy-pony commented.

“Oh, right,” she whinnied embarrassingly, blushing and grinning awkwardly as she returned her hooves to the earth.

Resuming their brisk pace, both of them suddenly adopted a hushed state, neither wanting to make a peep.

“So,” Twilight finally spoke up, “would it be too much for me to ask about you?”

“Actually,” Advent interjected, “could that please wait until we have arrived at muh home?”

“Alright then,” she gave in graciously.

She had hoped to bait him with a kind request so that she could learn more about him, but his pained tone at the mention of anything regarding himself seemed to almost hurt him. So, maybe-

“Ponyville,” the persistently pleasant picture of glee portrayed with a smile.

“Eh?” the stallion breathed forth a muffled conjecture.

“I’m from Ponyville,” she clarified.

“Huh? Ponyville,” he tested the word, pausing beneath his cloak from whence Twilight could not see his expression of contemplative confusion, “Um sorry, I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s in Equestria,” she urged, hoping against hope that she was at least not too far from home.

“Equestria,” Advent recited as though he were running through old memories, “I do believe I read about it in a book.”

“Really?” she asked with bright stars in her eyes.

“Aye,” he uttered encouragingly, “one on myths and legends.”

Although taken aback by the reference of her homeland in the same context as ‘myths and legends’, Twilight accepted it in light of the fact that it could be her only key to getting back.

“Do you think that I could, oh I don’t know, take a peek at it?” she requested with a wide grin.

“You can have it if you want,” he returned.

“That’s rather generous of you,” she graciously accepted his offer.

A few hoofsteps later, nothing else had been said. That is, until…

“So,” Advent spoke up, “would it be uh problem if I heard uh little about your friends?”

In a split-second, Twilight had a realization that, although she barely knew anything about the mysterious figure, she had not given him reason to tell her more, especially after the heart-wrenching account that he had begun to tell her.

“I guess it couldn’t hurt,” she answered. “Well, to start off with, there’s Rainbow Dash.”

“She’s famous for her competitive athleticism,” the mare rattled off, “but don’t let that fool you. She’s the most loyal pony that Equestria could ever have.”

Even if Advent was listening, she couldn’t entirely tell since his hood remained in the way.

“There’s Rarity, who is the single most fashion-forward mare in our fair little town,” Twilight expressed, unknowingly flipping her mane like her fashionista counterpart would have, “Plus, she has the most generous spirit of anypony I have ever met.”

“Oh, and Fluttershy, she’s the kindest pony, with the most tender, loving care for animals.”

“Animals,” Advent abruptly muttered, “How I miss the chirping and skittering of wee critters in the morn…”

The pain and loss in those few words spoke volumes of his suffering to Twilight as she paused to listen to what he might say. Something in her sparked, and she determined in herself that she would do whatever it took to make him happy. She didn’t know why. She just… needed to.

“There’s Applejack,” she attempted to divert his thoughts back to the cheery, “She’s the gang’s resident cowpony-”

“Excuse me,” he jumped back in.

“Yes?” Twilight asked, longing to hear whatever he was thinking.

“What’s uh ‘cow-pony’?” he questioned seriously.

“Oh, you know,” she replied matter-of-factly, “They use lassoes, they corral critters, and they care for their cattle.”

“Sounds uh wee bit like uh shepherd,” Advent commented.

“You mean that you really don’t know about cowponies?” she inquired, glancing at him to see his cloaked head swaying slightly from side-to-side while still facing ahead of them both.

“Well… that’s okay,” Twilight assured him, “Not everypony in Equestria knows about them either.”

Granted, most of those who hadn’t were either young foals or city-ponies who hadn’t given much thought to their country kin, but, she knew that she was in a different land. From what she could tell, she was more than likely in the middle of the ruins of Hooflend itself. Or maybe it was ‘Hoof-land’? Advent’s accent really threw her off on a couple of pronunciations.

“Besides the whole ‘cowpony thing’,” the purple pony resumed, “Applejack loves to tend to her family’s farm, Sweet Apple Acres.”

“She also happens to be Ponyville’s most dependable pony, and, I know for a fact, that she’ll never tell a lie,” Twilight complemented her trustworthy friend, “Why, she’s the most honest pony I know.”

Unsure of what state of mind the stallion was in, she was sure that he would like the next part.

“Then, there’s Pinkie Pie,” Twilight pronounced happily.

“Pink-ee Pie?” Advent questioned, his tone that of amusement. “Really?”

“Well, her whole name is actually Pinkamena Diane Pie, but that’s another story for another time,” she added.

As she finished saying that, Twilight barely managed to catch a glimpse of his golden eyes beaming with a previously non-existent happiness.

“She’s what we like to call the ‘Super Duper Party Pony’ of Ponyville,” she emphasized the statement by firing a bolt of magic from her horn into the dark sky that bloomed into a colorful explosion, much like that of a firework.

A smile spread across Advent’s muzzle as his stance perked up, bringing a strange sensation to Twilight as she watched him closely.

“She loves parties, especially when she’s the one who gets to throw them,” the words she said at that moment reminded her of the perfect example, “In fact, I remember once when she worked together with a stallion named Cheese Sandwich to transform Rainbow Dash’s birthday party and anniversary of the day she came to Ponyville, or birthiversary as we like to call it now, into the ultimate celebration.”

“They even pulled out a ‘Super Duper’ party cannon that would shoot ponies straight into a giant platter of gelatin.”

“No!” Advent suddenly burst out with an unusually boisterous manner. “Gelatin, really?” He had, for a moment, looked at her, but had quickly corrected himself by aiming his sights ahead again.

“H-yes,” she answered, nearly giggling at his response, “That’s Pinkie Pie for you. She always likes to put a smile on everypony’s faces.”

Almost unexpectedly, a small round of snorts sounded from behind the guy-pony’s fabric covering.

Holding her breath, Twilight listened intently for the inevitable-

Without warning, Advent unleashed a torrent of laughter as he continued walking.

Stunned for a few seconds by the excessively powerful tone in which the tall, darkly dressed figure shared his overabundant pleasure, she recovered in time to be able to join in with her own chuckling, which quickly developed into a fierce fit of laughter. If she had to admit it, his jovial display was contagious once he started.

“Oh, Twilight,” the greatly elated guy-pony chortled as he slowly regained semblance of self-control, “Thank you so much.”

“For what?” she asked, having easily calmed herself.

“I haven’t laughed like that in… years,” he explained, sobering at the mention of the past.

As she watched him shrink slightly, the mare began to wonder if she had lost him to his previous train of thought.

“Twilight,” Advent muttered.

“Yes?” she answered, hoping to divert him from the despair she heard in his voice.

“Would you consider telling me more about you?”

“Ugh…” she paused in shock, unsure as to whether or not it would be best.

“Please…” he begged, setting his glowing golden irises upon her and conveying a sense of desperation.

“Alright…” Twilight gave in, knowing that this was the only way.

Coughing into a hoof, she cleared her throat. “When I was just filly…”

For minutes, she went on, telling her life’s story. The good. The bad. The easy. The hard. She poured her soul out to him, not fully comprehending exactly why. It just felt right.

Of course, she made sure to censor what she deemed unnecessary. Still, everything that she shared only seemed to draw the stallion deeper into a state of unspoken delight.

“…and that’s how we defeated Discord, master of chaos,” she finished unraveling the tale of one of her and her friends’ most bonding experiences.

“Wow,” Advent stated in admiration, “Your friends sound nice and your adventures wonderful…”

“Yeah, they are special,” Twilight agreed.

“…but so are you,” he let slip, choking a muffled addition at the end of his statement.

A fiery pink blush washed over her cheeks as Twilight turned her head to the opposite side.

“Did he just-” she started to question herself.

“And yet…” he cut her off.

“Huh?” she alternated to his current choice of words, for some reason hoping he wouldn’t take back what had already been said.

“…you forgot somethin’,” the strongly-voiced pony addressed with a hint of disappointment.

However it did, his disapproval, for whatever, drove a figurative needle into her side, causing her to almost want to weep at the potential transgression. But on the outside, she kept a strong front.

“What?” she asked rather curiously.

“You’re uh princess, aren’t you?” he said rather rhetorically.

“How-” Twilight gasped in astonishment.

“You’re an Alicorn, aren’t you?” Advent noted with an equal level of sureness.

“What does that have to do with anything?” she inquired, accidentally sounding hurt at the implications he was making.

“All Alicorns have royal blood flowing through their veins,” he recited.

The manner in which he spoke his nugget of knowledge struck Twilight as unshakeable truth. Except…

“Actually, I was born a Unicorn,” she decided to reveal.

“Huh, interesting,” he returned, pondering on the fact for a moment.

“How do you know so much about Alicorns anyhow?” she questioned him, almost as if a student to her tutor, minus the small error on his part.

After all, even the tomes of the Royal Canterlot Library that contained the meager amount of recorded information on the race of ponies known as Alicorns were either filled with rumors, speculation, or the small number of memories that Princess Celestia could recall from her days as a young filly.

“Oh, I have plenty ta’ read on tha’ subject,” Advent admitted readily, “and I would wholeheartedly be willing ta’ allow you ta’ get as much as you can wrap your hooves around.”

Twilight’s face shined with appreciative excitement as she heard him so openly offer his services and home to her.

“Speaking of which,” he added, “we’re nearly there.”

“Really?!” the overly-hyped mare nigh unto squealed.

“Aye,” he confirmed, “It’s just beyond this-”

His next words were lost on Twilight as she sped up the side of the hill that was along the path. She was already part way when she managed to catch sight of what she had been previously incapable of seeing, namely the source of the light that beamed down upon the city.

Sprouting from below the hillside was a tower that admittedly appeared to have some form of damage or change to its uniquely gothic style. Whatever it had looked like before, it mattered little to her, as her eyes mainly took in the picture of what was rested within the open top of the structure.

Seated at the center of the turret was a ball of pure light, and she instantly recognized it as a gigantic version of the very same lights that had lined the streets of the ghost city.

That only proved that it had to be Advent who was keeping them alive, but Twilight couldn’t understand how, especially since she couldn’t see any visible sign that he had been actively using his magic more than once.

This served to greatly push her on as she questioned what kind of home such a mysterious fellow like Advent could be living in.

Ascending the heights with relative ease, she finally set hoof atop the mound. But what was before her made her pause.

Set in the midst of an open field of little more than the purple grass and a few dozen strangely-shaped trees, or what she could only guess to be such as they each bore a twisted resemblance to ‘hands’, was a fine example of stone worksponyship.

Spires of grey rose from the main body of the grand structure, brilliantly accented by the sharp edges and acute angles that bordered its walls, and statues of armored ponies lined the ledges that protruded from those.

“A castle?!” Twilight shouted, showing just how shocked she was. “You live in a castle?!”

“Aye,” the unaddressed stallion stated as he trotted up the hill, having barely been outrun by the mare.

“Why?” she couldn’t help but utter.

“Well,” Advent started once he reached the top, “I was tha’ only pony in tha’ city, after all.”

“I… guess I can’t argue with that logic,” she admitted, somewhat embarrassed by her outburst.

“Shall weh, mulady?” he gestured ahead with a hoof.

“Aye, I-I… mean… yes,” Twilight fumbled her words, earning herself another round of blush across her cheeks in conjunction with her muzzle being set in a visage of self-inflicted apology.

With a smile at the obvious error, Advent led the way down the path of the hill.

As they neared the massive monument to ponydom, Twilight couldn’t help but think of the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters and how much this new castle resembled it. With that thought, she also began to remind herself of the day that her friends and her had spruced the old ruins of the former home of Equestria’s premier princesses to a point that they were livable, which caused her to worry for her friends and to be a touch homesick.

“Somethin’ tha’ matter?” the cloaked colt questioned her in concern.

In that moment, she realized that she had been frowning.

“Just… thinking about my gal pals,” Twilight shared, managing to exchange her worry for a tone of cheer.

The stallion inhaled a deeply calming breath.

“I understand,” he voiced kindly.

Thanks to her previous discussions with him, she knew he did… but that didn’t take away from how good it felt to hear him say it.

Nothing more was said as the two made their approach to their destination.

Then, Advent came to a stop in front of the massive doors of the castle’s entryway, and Twilight followed his example.

“Now, may I welcome you, Princess Twilight Sparkle,” he announced, as if to a crowd, “to Castle Brayburn.”

She looked on in excitement as the hooded figure shone his covered horn with his golden magic and the gate was imbued with it in turn.

The dual heavy-set wooden portcullis’s joints groaned as they swung open to reveal a dark hall suddenly blooming with candlelight.

“After you, mulady,” Advent invited her to take the first hoofstep up the staircase and into the not-so-welcoming scene.

“Hehehe-he,” she chuckled anxiously, almost reconsidering if not for his politeness.

Usually, she would have been quick to express her discomfort when someone addressed her so formally. And yet, Twilight strangely enjoyed the fashion in which he was treating her.

One after another, the pair of ponies climbed the steps and entered the hallway.

A symphony of lights came to life all around them while Advent shut the entrance behind them, from candles to torches to chandeliers.

It was quite the sight to Twilight as she noticed that every step she took, another flame, or two, or three, would be lit by whatever mysterious means that Advent was doing it.

She also paid attention to the fact that along both walls on either side were exact duplicates of that same banner that had adorned the soldier-pony statue in the plaza, except these were rimmed with a white border finish. They continued to be the same, until they were about to pass the midway point of the space.

There, hanging from the ceiling, was a tapestry of a familiar symbol embroidered on a golden-bordered purple background – set in golden stitching, and bedazzled with rhinestones – was an ancient-styled image of a Unicorn’s head.

It was the exact same as the one that had been on the cover of her copy of Elements of Harmony: A Reference Guide, which wasn’t the least bit unusual since it was a popular piece for authors in Equestria to use for literature involving ancient or forgotten history.

As far as Twilight could recall, the symbol had its roots in some ancient clan of ponies, known only by their “Coltic Heritage”, who mysteriously vanished from recorded history and became something of a myth. Thus, the reason why the golden Unicorn’s usage for so many books, and why it struck her as odd as to why it was on a banner in a foreign land.

“Oi, Twilight,” Advent softly broke her concentration.

“Huh?” she responded as she came out of her frozen state of meditation.

“Ya’ takin’ uh fancy to tha’ flag?” he, surprisingly, joked with her.

“Oh, no,” she answered with a slight giggle to her undertone, before returning her gaze to the uniquely separate piece of art, “I was just thinking of how much this resembled something I’ve seen before.”

“Hmm, ya’ don’t say…” he mumbled curiously.

“Where did you get it?” Twilight asked.

“That just so happens ta’ be tha’ last remaining relic of the ancestors of the Royal Steedstone Family,” Advent stated seriously, “uh reminder of tha’ roots from whence they came.”

Although intrigued at the implications of this learning experience, Twilight didn’t miss the hint of personal pain that was made obvious by the stallion’s tone.

“Shall we continue?” he offered with an extended hoof.

“Yes, let’s,” she accepted with her own hoof.

Side by side, they had a short walk to the next door, which was much like the first.

Taking the initiative, Advent used his magic to bring them to life, and they cracked apart to allow the first glimpses of the castle interior to meet Twilight’s sight.

Before her eyes, a world of wondrous possibilities was unlocked as she witnessed the chamber, full of lit candles and chandeliers, in all of its great wealth of knowledge.

The ceiling was far above their heads, several stories up by her count, with rings of balconies, absolutely brimming with bookshelves, lining the walls, and below that all was a finely designed rectangular foyer wrapping around a central dip in the floor, which accounted for even more bookcases and was crossed over by a pair of separate intersecting walkways.

Everywhere she looked, Twilight saw book after book, and her heart raced with shiny-eyed excitement.

“Is this… your library?” she asked her host indirectly, not tearing her gaze away from the overwhelmingly incredible picture of a dream fulfilled for even a second.

“This is only uh section, really,” he answered happily.

She swung her head as fast as she could to stare at the hooded figure as she blurted, “You mean there’s more?!”

“Aye,” Advent repeated his seemingly favorite word, “In fact, this entire castle is tha’ library.”

“Really?!” the overjoyed Twilight flapped her wings from out from beneath her cape to her sides as she posed the question, nearly lifting her hooves an inch off of the stone flooring.

“Aye. This is merely tha’ section in which I have placed all written records and literature on tha’ nation of Steedstone.”

The mention of the fallen kingdom brought Twilight back to reality as she remembered their earlier discussion.

“About that…” she voiced her regrettable memory.

The cloaked stallion halted in his tracks and huffed a heavy breath.

“I did give you muh word that I would finish tha’ tale once we were here,” Advent barely said without cracking up.

Twilight merely stood to the side, half-grinning as she heard the reluctance in his statement, and hoping that she hadn’t pulled the wrong string.

“Aye,” he finally whispered before walking forward a few hoofsteps and lighting his horn, “Please, take a seat.”

The lady-pony glanced above herself to see a cushy floor-chair floating down from one of the balconies and watched as it landed softly at her hooves. Choosing to accept the gracious offer in light of the cold surface that she was upon, Twilight made herself comfortable while ensuring that the cape she was dressed in was properly secured.

“Where was I?” Advent asked himself in a low tone. “Ah, yes. Tha’ prince.”

Ignoring the fact that he had his back to her, Twilight was half-eager to bring a close to this story, while her other half wanted to forget it entirely. And yet, a small part of her knew that it was somehow important.

“Although he had done good,” resumed the storytelling stallion, “tha’ prince could only see tha’ horrors of war all around him.”

“In tha’ midst of tha’ chaos, his eyes caught pony after pony falling, even as he gave his all ta’ defend them,” his breathing wavered as he worded his thoughts. “And as he stood there, somethin’ in his heart broke, and his sorrow transformed into an unknown entity.”

Twilight felt like gasping, but could do no more than look on in fright from her seat.

“A spark in his soul brought to life a fire,” Advent portrayed wearily, “and a single thought consumed him.”

He paused.

“Please don’t be bad. Please don’t be bad. PLEASE. DON’T. BE. BAD!” Twilight yelled on the inside.

“Vengeance…” the strong word left his muzzle with deeply-seeded grief.

Her jaw hung agape at the terrifying prospect. Never before had she heard such an open confession of… that, especially since it was such a rarity to ever come across it and she had previously never met anypony else who was so willing to say it.

“His blood boiled, and tha’ rage within him manifested itself as his horn unleashed uh fire that burned his foes,” Advent said without inching from his position. “Hundreds of his enemies were smote as he willingly let tha’ fire course through him.”

The ferocity of the battle that had taken place, more than likely, in the very city she had trotted through brought a renewed chill to her spine and made it nearly impossible to shake the feeling of fear that was upon her.

“Rallying tha’ remaining troops of tha’ Royal Army, and tha’ few brave stallions of Hooflend’s militia,” he stood tall as he mentioned those lost souls, “the prince led uh charge straight into tha’ largest, and last, number of tha’ horde.”

“Letting tha’ soldier-ponies deal with tha’ small fries,” Advent demeaned the monsters, “he cut uh swathe through their ranks on his way to tha’ center, where he came face-ta’-face with tha’ head of tha’ serpent – tha’ Commander of tha’ horde.”

The poison in his voice told Twilight that her earlier suspicions were correct, but she kept it to herself. That, and she couldn’t stop wondering what this ‘commander’ could have even looked like. Her mind kept bringing her back to Tirek for some reason.

“As they both locked eyes,” he continued, “each of them knew that they had accepted uh challenge.”

“With uh cry of battle rising from either side, they each went for the first strike, and in that moment alone they cleared uh space for their dual, not allowing anypony, or thing, to interfere.”

The mare, strangely, found herself enraptured in the idea of the fight, silently rooting on the prince.

“They matched one another blow for blow, strike for strike, magic for magic,” the stallion stated with great effort, “until tha’ Commander lost his momentum.”

“Tha’ prince pressed his advantage, and gained the upperhoof, forcing tha’ monster ta’ lose ground.”

An unvoiced cheer rose inside of Twilight as she listened intently.

“But,” Advent muttered, earning a look of concern from his audience of one, “tha’ Commander could tell when he was about to lose, so, with some of his last words, he spoke uh curse over tha’ prince and tha’ city.”

Twilight’s worry was momentarily broken as she questioned whether she had heard right or not. After all, last she knew (from her own experiences) curses could not be real.

“For his treachery,” the bitter-voiced stallion spat, “tha’ prince rewarded tha’ monster with uh swift end… And yet…”

He sounded as if he were struggling to continue, almost bringing Twilight to try to soothe him.

“And yet,” Advent recovered, calming his guest, “his rage had not been sated. In fact, it burned brighter than before.”

“So, at that moment, he vowed ta’ himself to hunt down every last one of tha’ creatures who dared ta’ harm his people and his city.”

The thought of such determined violence shocked Twilight as she sat back. But, she knew, deep in her heart, that it was justified to at least have stopped these monsters from their evil deeds.

“When tha’ final beast was laid at his hooves, tha’ prince could, at last, take uh breath,” a relief settled over the stallion as he spoke on, “and tha’ fog of his anger dissipated…”

A tear fell from the away-facing pony as Twilight watched him.

“His sight was cleared,” he sniffled, “but all he could see, everywhere he looked, was that he was alone.”

She was heartbroken to hear the pain and loss that poured from the guy-pony’s soul as a stream of tears flowed from beneath his hood, staining the floor at his hooves.

“He searched, he begged, he cried out for there to be somepony else,” Advent expressed, his head dipping low, “but he was left by himself.”

“Advent,” Twilight cut in.

His hooded head rose back to its tall, natural state of attention.

“Are you… saying-” she managed to get out.

“Aye, Twilight,” he replied, turning about.

As he moved to face her, his horn shone with his golden magic, and his dark hood was pulled back, allowing her to catch the first glimpses of his uncovered head.

First, she saw strands of sunshine yellow and crimson and scarlet red hair running back across his neck, shaping his mane like a cloud of still fire. Then, he twisted around until she could see his strong muzzle set into a soft expression on his jaw below his shimmering golden eyes, which still retained a watery trail that went down both of his cheeks.

If it wasn’t for the fact that she had been speaking to him for more than an hour or so, she would have begun gawking at him and how unbelievably handsome he was. Of course, she quickly corrected herself before that ever happened.

Plus, Twilight also thought he looked uncannily like-

“I was that prince,” he interrupted her internal conversation.

When that last word left his lips, he stood still, and his cape was thrown off, revealing two unfurled wings stretching high into the air, coated with feathers colored like the rays of the sun, from the white of his body.

Twilight gasped at the unseen turn of events and the sudden revelation.

“You’re… you’re…” she muttered shakily.

“Aye,” he answered for her, “I’m un Alicorn.”

She gasped again without even realizing it.