Prologue: Troubled Dreams
The small rise upon which she stood allowed Celestia to see just how far the plains extended. An ocean of gently swaying grass stretched from horizon to horizon bounded she knew by the Encircling Sea to the east and the Singing Forest to the north-west and in the farthest west the Si-Shahir Mountains lay the beyond even that, but such things were far beneath the horizon and for now she could imagine if but for a moment that the Endless Plains were truly infinite. At any other time the sight of the endless swaying grass would have been serene and peaceful and Celestia would have had the joys of galloping through the long grass and sampling the sweet stalks to look forward to.
But this was not a normal time and the evidence for this lay before her, blotting out the sea of grass and trampling it under foot and hoof and claw. The army before her was vast and terrible, it seemed as if every thrall and dark abomination under the command of the Fallen Ones had been gathered into a single great host. The eternal night was lit up occasionally by bursts of dragonfire and flares of eldritch magic, revealing scales and chitin and flesh and fur, glittering from claw and halberd and sword. Banners and pennants snapped in the breeze, streaming forth in a dozen different colours and each bore the sacred symbols of a Fallen One. If the sheer numbers of the host were not enough to confirm it then the banners surely did. The mark of every single Fallen One was represented there.
The whispers from the spies and scouts were true. They had come.
Celestia turned away from the sickening sight of the army of misshapen monsters and demons, her voice quiet and drawn, “It is as we feared. Return to the camp, inform the other generals of what we have seen.”
At her command the scout next to her, a young fresh-faced stallion, saluted, “As you command Milady!” With that the young alicorn took to the air and streaked off to the south where their forces were encamped.
Celestia watched him fly until he was lost in the darkness, eventually turning to the rest of her the scouts with her, “Evensong, Orion. Pass the word along to the rest of the forward scouts. I want them to pull back. We know where the enemy is, no sense in risking them being captured or killed for information we already know. They will not attack until the light is better. Make sure to use the pass-codes, this close to the enemy some of our scouts may have been waylaid and replaced by Changeling outriders.”
“At once Invictus,” Evensong said with a salute before she and her companion took flight, splitting off once they were in the air and flying in opposite directions to find the other scout groups.
This left Celestia alone with Golden Harp, the Scout Leader of this group that had taken her out to see the enemy’s forces for herself, “Well… it seems as if the end is here, Harp,” she said softly, “What chances do you give us?”
Harp was a veteran of the war, he had an eye-patch over one eye that legend says he lost in a duel with the Balrog Lord Aghiraaz the Ever-Burning during the Fall of Emrethil Keep, the final battle of the Scouring of the North. He had the scars and size to back up such rumours, his long horn was filed to a deadly point and his mane was gold and red and shimmered like the fires of his supposed nemesis and he had the quiet, serious demeanour of one who had seen a lot of hard fighting, “Hm, hard to say. If this really is the final push then we face the possibility that the Fallen Ones themselves might take to the field. We all know they’re smarting after we defeated them in the north. The loss of Sylahee was a terrible blow and they will seek to avenge it or risk losing what few dragons they have left,” he frowned and shook his head, “But the dragons they still have are the largest and most powerful of their ilk, add that to the flocks of Harpies and the Alicorn and Ikari Thralls… we’ll face heavy losses in the air, not to mention all of the magic they have at their disposal.”
“But do you think we can win?” Celestia asked, eyes searching his impassive face, “Can they be beaten?”
“I don’t know,” The grizzled alicorn finally confessed, “If the Fallen Ones take to the field then defeat is most likely. If not then I think victory is possible but casualties will be heavy. We win here then their forces will be broken and we can push the Fallen Ones back but if we lose…”
“We all die,” Celestia said, “I know. We will just have to make sure that we’re the ones who win then, won’t we? If all else fails we do have one or two surprises in store.”
“I've heard rumours. Milady, what the whispers say… are we really going to restore the Corona Caelestis? Is it possible?” Harper asked, a tinge of hope in his voice, “I have heard the stories of the Light.”
Celestia hesitated, “We have… plans in place. We don’t know if it is possible to truly restore the Corona, the sheer level of power needed would be of the same magnitude as the gods. As you can imagine any attempt would be surrounded by the utmost secrecy.”
He nodded at that, “Of course. The Fallen Ones would have a fit if they knew, they would take to the field for certain if they suspected. It is time we headed back however, my lady.”
Celestia gave a graceful nod, “Lead the way, Scout Leader.”
Golden Harp began to lead her back to the camp, his armour did not reflect the starlight in the slightest but Celestia could make out the hard, sharp plates and the spear he held at the ready in case they stumbled across any outriders from the enemy. His eyes were hard and determined that no harm would come to her so long as he still drew breath. It was an expression Celestia was used to seeing on her people, but rarely so intensely especially from a war-hero of Golden Harp’s renown. There was time yet until the fighting would begin. Perhaps she and Golden Harp could get better acquainted back at camp. She certainly wouldn't mind learning the truth about the Balrog Lord and the legendary duel he had fought against him.
They had marched throughout the rest of the dark hours to reach the small rise and site themselves upon the high ground in preparation for the battle to come. A short skirmish had taken place when a group of Changeling scouts had entered the airspace above the camp but they had easily been dealt with by their flyers. Only one race could match the Ikari, the ancient masters of wind and sky, in the air and the Changelings had been slaughtered to a ‘ling. The corpses had been vaporised by the magic of the alicorns on the ground so the foul Corruption within their bodies would not taint the verdant plain any more than it already had. They could barely stomach the sight of the twisted insectile mockeries of the alicorn form.
Tension filled the camp at it always did on the eve of battle. It was well-known that this would be the final battle of the war, the culmination of millennia of strife and suffering. Either the Fallen Ones would be broken and the world at last freed from their reign of terror or all present here would perish and gain the freedom of death. It lent an air of desperation to the camp that Celestia did not like. Morale would suffer and they could ill-afford any disadvantages for the fight to come… but what could she do? They were right to be afraid. It was not every day that the fate of all creation would be decided.
It was less than half an hour until moonrise, it was then that the battle would begin. Whatever the dishonour and madness of those they faced even they knew to respect what had been preordained. The graceful alicorn made her way to the command tent, pushing aside the canvas flap with a hoof before stepping inside. It took a little while for her eyes to adjust to the candlelight inside but soon the blurry images resolved themselves into the familiar forms of the commanders of the Host. Each one represented one of the Five Races of the Grand Alliance.
There was Ilindos the Mighty, First Stormlord and Father of the Ikari. His plumage of blue and white was resplendent in the candlelight and his curved beak drawn into a grim smile. The tall Ikar’s wings were folded across his back but Celestia knew that they were so large as to eclipse even her own span. Leaning across from Ilindos to examine the map of the battlefield they had drawn up from scout reports was Tulon the Undimmed, King and Father of the Fae. Even as she watched the form of the brilliant Faerie lord shifted and changed from a graceful furless bipedal form with beautiful jewel-like dragonfly wings to that of an alicorn, horn long and mane resplendent with coloured light, a crown of leaves and flowers upon his head. Tulon looked up at Celestia and gave a nod of greeting which she returned with a shallow bow to the ancient and enigmatic entity. The most ancient amongst the Fae were prone to changing their forms at the merest whim, the reasons and purpose of such changes subtle, alien and perhaps unknowable. Who but a Fae can pretend to know the minds of such creatures as they?
Seated across from the Ikar and the Fae was Harmony the Resplendent, Queen and Mother of the Alicorns, an alicorn mare half again as tall as Celestia with a mane that seemed to shine with every colour in the world and eyes of gentle gold and close to her, their heads together as they whispered and murmured to one another, was the bipedal feline form of Tehyel the Eternal, King and Father of the Firstborn. His dark brown and black fur was soft and sleek and his whiskers long and at his side was his legendary blade, the very first weapon ever forged. Even sheathed the long, graceful sword made her horn ache if she looked at it too long. The magic woven into it during its forging was of a kind more terrible and powerful than anything she had encountered anywhere else and it wrenched at her heart. She could feel the pain and grief and sorrow and hatred that had poured into the sword during its making.
In one corner of the tent, seemingly ignoring the others, was a large black-scaled reptile curled up asleep with smoke curling lazily from his nostrils. Celestia forced down a shiver of fear at the sight of the dragon. Even shrank down to fit in the tent by some magic he was a sight that provoked terror and awe in her, for he was Faraclaw the Terrible, Father of Dragonkind and their great High King, the Lord of Wind and Flame. The final creation of the Fallen Ones had been the dragons to serve as their greatest weapons of war upon the original Four Races and Faraclaw was the mightiest and most terrible of race of mighty and terrible beings. Countless thousands of rebels of all races had perished by his claw and fiery breath. A single golden eye, flame flickering in the depths of the pupil, opened to stare directly at her causing Celestia to take an instinctive step backwards in shock. Sharp ivory teeth appeared as the great dragon smiled and let out a slow, rumbling chuckle at her reaction before the eye slid closed again.
Shaking herself, Celestia tried to regain her composure as she went to kneel before Harmony, bowing her head and flaring her wings forward so that the very tips brushed on the ground, “Mother,” she said respectfully to the one who had given birth to her people, “Command me.”
Harmony turned from Tehyel and smiled gently down to Celestia, “Arise Invictus, most favoured and beloved of my generals. What news have you to report?”
Celestia rose up to her hooves slowly, “The camp has been struck and all of our assets are in position. The earthworks and bulwarks are completed. We stand in full readiness to enact the will of our Progenitors.”
Harmony smiled again and nodded, “Our thanks General. Your orders are unchanged, our battle plans are set. You have our leave to begin the attack at the rising of the first moon into the sky. It is time that we concluded our final meeting,” she said, turning towards the table and stamping her hoof down on the earthen floor of the tent, “The battle nears. If it is agreed then I think it is time we dispersed to take command of our respective peoples. We cannot allow our mates to win this battle without us after all,” she hesitated a moment before turning to Tehyel, “I’m sorry, I should have worded that better.”
The feline gave a wan smile, “Do not concern yourself, little sister. I cannot expect all of you to walk upon eggshells when talking about your mates for the rest of eternity. I am not so fragile that such statements would wound my heart. Besides I am not the only one present who has lost a wife.”
Faraclaw’s eyes opened and he snorted, a puff of smoke coming from his nostrils, “Do not grieve on my account. Sylahee had it coming to her, I told her to change sides as I did but she would not listen. Always was stubborn,” he rose up and began walking out of the tent, form slowly growing larger with each step, “She is lucky I was merciful and only tore her throat out,” he growled, “Slaying her was a mercy for her madness. Save your pity for yourself, Tehyel.”
Then the great dragon was gone and the tent fell into silence for a while as the gathered beings tried to think of something to say. Eventually Tehyel simply shook his head, “We have better things to do than stand around. Come, let us go amongst our Children and lead them unto the end of this war. He who slew my wife stands before us awaiting his death and I shall grant him no more reprieve from it,” he looked to Celestia, “Are you prepared to play your role, General?”
Celestia nodded, “I am, honoured Progenitor of the First. I do not know if it will work but I will try my utmost. I have prepared as best I could to undertake this great magic. Have we… has there been any thought on what we shall call this new Corona if it succeeds?”
Harmony nodded, “We have discussed it long. The new light will not be as the sacred light of old, even we do not have the power to restore a true Corona to the sky. Instead it will be something akin to the three moons and the stars, but singular in its existence and far brighter. It is to be a symbol of hope and the symbol of our victory over the Shadow, fate willing. Its light that shall burn away the darkness of this age and bring forth new life at the end of so much death. In honour of this, we have decided to call it… the sun.”
Celestia awoke with a start and for a moment she didn't know where she was, her mind still long ago and far away. She burst up from her bed with a flare of her wings, sunfire blazing around her horn in such intensity that it caused the darkness to flee before her until there was neither shade nor shadow anywhere in her bedchamber, the harsh light having utterly obliterated every trace of night. She panted, eyes roaming the room for a threat, for a Balrog to come roaring and charging at her or a Corrupted Fane to come screaming down from the sky, vicious talons ready to rend flesh from bone.
But there was nothing, no enemy, no danger. Just the same bedroom in the Sun Tower that she had awoken to for most of the past thousand years. Celestia relaxed and allowed the light on her horn to wink out allowing the cool, soothing darkness to come rushing back into her room. It was still hours until it was time for dawn, she could feel it at the back of her mind where her ever-present connection to the sun lay. It was strange how used to the warm presence within her she had become, she could barely remember a time before the light and warmth of the sun had entered her. Well, that was not exactly true as her dream had shown. Her memories from before that time were clear but the memory of how it felt to be without this power had long since been forgotten.
Why had she dreamt of that battle? It was so very, very long ago in a vastly different age. An age when alicorns had been plentiful, an age of endless night, an age before her sister had been born and the time of the Three Moons of old had come to an end.
Celestia went out to the balcony of her tower, she was too restless to sleep now. She looked up to the night sky, that vast canvas upon which her sister drew art of such beauty and scope that it still took her breath away. The stars had been beautiful before Luna had come and taken custody of them but Celestia could not deny that Luna brought a passion and flair to the night that had been absent from it during the long ages before her… and those terrible, long years when Celestia had stewarded the night in her place.
Luna’s moon was sinking towards the horizon but it was still hours yet from setting. It was large and full, pouring forth her gentle silver light upon the land. A light so different from the sometimes harsh glare of Celestia’s sun. It had become such a familiar sight to her, this single moon in the sky. She and Luna were the only ones who would remember the night as it had been in the ancient days when the sky had been home to three moons, not one. When it had been shepherded by the last true goddesses left in the world. How long had it been since she had thought of those days? Centuries? Millennia? They were so very distant now, so very, very long ago.
Which of course brought her from her musings and back to the matter at hoof. The dream. Like all equines the memory of when she had gained her Cutie Mark was one of the strongest and most indelible. She could still smell the smoke, taste the blood on her tongue, and feel the rush of raw magical power flowing through her body, the warmth spreading through her. She could remember that first sight of the sun rising and burning away the darkness, the screams of the horrors that it had cloaked as cleansing fire had swept the plain… oh that feeling of exaltation! Never before or since had Celestia felt such exultation and exhilaration as that moment when she had watched the darkness flee before her light, but she rarely thought of the time before then. The memories belonged to a bygone age, an age of terror and war and fire and not the age of peace and contentment she had forged here in Equestria. Some things were best left forgotten in the farthest reaches of her memory.
So why now? What could possibly have triggered such a vivid dream of times long past? Dreams were more Luna’s domain than her own, but she did not want to worry her sister. She had not been born then, she did not remember the days before the sun and Celestia did not want to burden her with the memory of such dark and troubled times as those. Besides she had a feeling, a vague sense that it was not just supressed memories bubbling to the fore. Dreams may not have been her forte but few could rival Celestia in the art of prophecy and her intuition was rarely wrong in such matters.
The dream was a portent, a sign of things to come. She did not know what it was, if the dream foreshadowed the return of war or the awakening of some ancient, long-hidden evil from the days of the old wars. But whatever the portent truly meant Celestia was certain of one thing.
If something meant to threaten her ponies and her nation then she would stop it. This age no longer remembered the Invictus. She of the Thousand Battles. She of the Singing Blade and the Purifying Flame.
But if something was stirring, if something dared to try to overthrow her hard-won age of innocence and harmony and return the world to the dark days of old… then she would remind the world why she had been chosen above all others to steward the sun and why even the might of dragonkind feared to trespass upon the lands she had sworn to protect.
The moon was low on the horizon now, she had spent longer than she realised out here on the balcony. Luna came out upon the balcony of the Moon Tower and smiled to her sister before lighting her horn to lower the moon and make way for the sun, horn glimmering with starlight. Celestia schooled her features into a warm, loving smile and raised her own power.
Sunfire once again lit upon her horn and warmth and power flowed through her body as she brought forth the sun upon a new day, the light washing over the towers and spires of her castle and of Canterlot beyond setting the golden roofs ablaze with shimmering flame and the warmth of her sun settled upon Celestia’s coat. When the light finally winked out from her horn her expression was once again the queenly mask of warm serenity she wore everyday with her beloved subjects. Even Luna could not tell of the fires burning within her sister’s breast as she glided the short distance between the towers to nuzzle her elder sister and bid her a good morning before she retired to her chambers.
Her Grand Royal Highness, Regina Caelestis Solis, the Procer Celestia Invictus watched her beloved little sister return to her chambers to sleep away the day before turning to meet her chamberlain as he set out her schedule for the morning. She only half-listened to him, having already memorised her agenda, too distracted by her dream and the beginnings of a plan.
The old stallion rattled off her appointments and duties for the day as he always did at dawn, entirely unaware of the turning gears in the mind of his charge and the storm brewing upon the horizon. To him it was just another morning, the same as hundreds of others he had spent in service to the warm, caring if somewhat mischievous immortal ruler of his nation.
Spread out below the soaring towers and spires of the Royal Palace and the majesty of Canterlot, the land of Equestria awoke as it had every morning for years beyond counting, as unaware as the old chamberlain of what was to come.
Somewhere beyond the horizon, buried beneath the earth where it had lain hidden and forgotten since the last days of a long forgotten era, something ancient beyond even Celestia’s reckoning began to stir.
