The Heart of Gaia

Chapters

Prologue
Upon the road
Within the Sanctum
Meanwhile, in Ponyville

Prologue

It had been an unusually cold spring in Brandingham, and so visitors to the Holly Leaf Inn were grateful to find a merry fire awaiting them one brisk May evening. It was now the time of day when hard-working earth ponies entered the common room in a steady stream. Though many of them were covered in coal dust and all of them were exhausted from a hard day of back-breaking labor, the room radiated warmth and good cheer at another day done.

The Holly Leaf was a favorite haunt of the many earth ponies who worked the coal mines of that part of Equestria. Tonight was no exception: the fraternity of miners was in full swing, enjoying food, drink, and, most of all, the company of friends. Gossip and talk of politics flowed freely among the close-knit group, while barmares carefully navigated the minefield of broadly gesturing miners to bring patrons foamy mugs of ale or cider.

“I tell ye,” remarked Golden Seed over his ale and ploughpony’s supper, “did ye hear about that fancy pegasus come through last week? Said overcast skies right on through mid-June, sumthing aboot refreshin’ tha aquifers. All I wants to know is, when will they let me wifey’s tomatoes come in?”

“Ah, weatherponies, I tell ya Goldie, they’s all gots their heads in tha clouds,” chortled Grassy Knoll. Though they had heard that crack a thousand times before, his friends all laughed along with him, clinking their mugs.

“Aye, and is it so different from you rockheads, then?” asked a barmare with a wry grin, to a general groaning of the assembled stallions. “Ah, I thought so!”

“Anyway,” broke in Broad Beam, “did ye hear the Tribune’s speech fer the Reform Act yesterday?”

“Ah, no, but I don’ need to’ve heard it to know just what he said, the great bag o’ wind,” said Goldie with a roll of his eyes. “Blackie’s ‘eart be in the right place, but that one don’t know his butt from a hole in the ground, and that’s a fact!”

“Celestia’ll hear none o’ his nonsense, in any case. Harmony save the Princesses!” Grassy cried, raising his mug in a toast.

“Aye, and Princesses save us from Blackie!” laughed Goldie, splashing ale over the tabletop as he met the toast.

“’Gint’chook mu dar ‘gin b’ye, lud up fur tuns b’mundsen, heh heh heh” cracked Crag o’ the Moor, the oldest of the miners. Again, the whole room laughed along with him, although some of the younger stallions gave one another searching looks as to what he might have said.

“Ah, and how many tons has ye scraped so far this year, young Spoony?”

“My crew loaded our twelfth today, beat that old timer!”

Goldie cocked a brow at him. “Ha, not good enough, Spoony, just not good enough. My crew’s loaded sixteen tons easy. At this rate t’will be no competition fer the applecart at all. I can already taste those crisp zap apples, b’ye.”

“Bu’ whar t’ol goo’, I wunurt,” mused Crag.

“Ah, Crag-O, there’s so much call for it from the railways, y’know. They’ve got those new-fangled steam engines running all the way from Grasscow to Baltimare these days.”

“I don’t trust it!” declared Grassy. “Magic and horsepower, the old magic locomotives, there’s sumthing a pony can rely on. This boilin’ water and runnin’ a train with a teapot? It’ll not last.”

“Ha, don’t tell ‘em that down at the Boilerworks, Grassy. They’ll not like the sound o’ that at all.”

“Eh, fie on the whole snooty lot ‘o ‘em! ‘Eingineers’, more like overpuffed potmakers, says I!”

“Oh, but it’s a new age, friend,” said a pony no one had noticed up to that point. He stepped forward from the back corner, where he had been sitting far from the welcoming hearth. “An enlightened age of science and progress, when the old foolish ways of the past will be laid aside. Even now, earth ponies need not rely on unicorn magic or pegasus wingpower to move with speed. And Mr. Horse’s ponygraph promises to soon make unicorns unnecessary for communicating at distances.”

“Aye, interestin’ times these be,” Goldie nodded slowly, suddenly guarded in the presence of a stranger. “And what brings you ta these parts, friend?”

“Oh, I’m merely here to attend to some business,” the cloaked pony murmured distantly. “I couldn’t help but overhear you grumbling about the overcast, as well. Did you know that in the South, there’s a place called the Everfree, where the weather entirely runs itself?”

“I heard o’ that. Gives me the willies,” answered Grassy. “Storms and sunshine without the pegs? It ain’t natural!”

“No, don’t you see? It’s just the opposite! The Everfree is nature freed! Liberated from the oppressive hoof of our magical masters – and it flourishes, as no other forest in all the land. As we earth ponies could, if only we were free as it!” the stranger cried. “Think of the possibilities! Free weather! No weather assessments – no worries about incompetent bureaucrats scheduling a solid month of cloudy skies! Friends, don’t you see? A world without unicorn lords and pegasus managers! Free of the oppression of magic and the aristocracy it brings, with modern technology in hoof… The earth, the very rocks you mine, they long for the freedom from magic that forest enjoys. And we ponies of the earth, our hearts share that same desire! We now have the power to provide all good pony folk need! Earth ponies – true ponies – need nopony but ourselves and the pure earth under our hooves.

“No longer will earth ponies labor under the hooves of unicorns and pegasi! No longer –“

“I think we’ve heard enough o’ that, sir.” Goldie spoke softly, but with an edge to his voice. The room had suddenly grown very quiet. The sounds of conversation and the clatter of flatware had all died away as the strange pony raved. “We don’t need no troublemakers in this neighborhood. Mebbe they go in for that sort ‘o nonsense on the Northside, but we know the unes and pegs is decent folk, and we won’t hear a word against ‘em.”

The stranger was brought up short. He looked slightly abashed. “Ah. I see.” And then, more to himself than to those around him, “I know earth ponies – true ponies – will understand when the time comes.” Looking around again, he gave a mirthless smile to the room. “I suppose I should be on my way.”

“S’pose ye should.”

“Very well, my brothers.” The stranger trotted toward the door, pulling up the hood of his cloak. Reaching the threshold, he paused. “But think on what I’ve said.” And then he was gone.

“Psh. Agitators,” scoffed Goldie as normal conversation and the clink of dishes resumed.

“Feh!” agreed Crag.

“At least he weren’t one of them insuff’rable tract printers…” Grassy mused. “It’s alway ‘workers o’ the world, rise oop!’ and all that with ‘em.”

“Still, what of it, Uncle Golden? Do you really think an age is comin’ when we won’t need help from the unes to get by?” asked Soup Spoon.

“’Tis a strange thought, lad, that it is,” Goldie mused. “Still an’ all, it’s not like ever ta be. Why wonder about what’s not ta be?” He took a large bite off his block of cheese. “Noo,” he continued around a mouthful of cheddar, “did ya hear aboot the break-in at the Royal Mint tadoy? Lef’ all the coin and made off with some historical doodad. What a nut that ’un must’ve been!”

“Ta break inta the vaults and take no coin? Ha, ‘tis a mad world for all that, when a kettle pulls a train and thieves ain’t interested in coin!” guffawed Grassy. The whole common room laughed with him.

Upon the road

Brother Dunstable could hardly have been enjoying his journey more. The morning was sunny and pleasant, and the horizon was filled with the promise of yet more clement weather to come. The little violet-colored friar cheerfully doffed his wide, floppy straw hat with his magic and waved it at a farmer plowing his field in the distance.

Dunstable always traveled overland if he could help it. Although it would have been far faster for him to ride the Great Western into Hoofington and proceed to the Priory of Luminous Cart Puller from there, he much preferred to journey through the countryside on hoof. It was possible to make good friends on a train trip, of course. But for Dunstable, staying at inns or enjoying the hospitality of a farm family was the central pleasure of travel. Even sleeping beneath a hedge far from any pony settlements was more satisfying than a stateroom in any grand palace, so long as he could share it with a new friend.

Travelling along the road with a pony for a day was a chance to experience the kindness of another creature and share the gift of laughter with them; and being welcomed into the modest kitchen of a remote farmhouse was a fine way to receive the gift of generosity. The friar always felt he could most freely practice his vocation to harmony while travelling abroad in the land.

He gazed up at the sky; it was as deep and pure a blue as he had seen it all year. Cheery white clumps of cloud spotted it here and there, lazily drifting to the east. Dunstable smiled to see the clouds were in no more hurry than he was. Dunstable considered himself something of an expert cloud gazer – in fact, for a time as a colt he had thought it might well be his special talent. Glancing down the road and seeing no creature coming for some distance, he decided to indulge himself for a time.

“Ah! That one will be a hippogiff, and… ah! There’s a nice shady tree. Hm, that one’s a bit tricky, I’ll come back to it.” Craning his neck back, he examined the clouds directly overhead. “Oh, that one’s a bunny for sure! Look how he’s hopping along, ha… oh, and that one’s a snake. Look out, little friend! You’re heading right for him.” The cloud-bunny showed little inclination to heed his advice, so he rotated his gaze to the north and continued the important work of cloud taxonomy for a time.

Once he was satisfied that the sky had been put in good order, he flipped his hat back atop his orange shock of a mane. Lowering his gaze to earth once more, he surveyed the countryside around him. The road continued to stretch roughly north by east ahead of him until it disappeared over a wide hill. Trees dotted gently rolling hills to his west, and to his east a patchwork quilt of fields blanketed the valley wall down to a watercourse he could barely make out in the distance. Here and there a small clump of farm buildings – barns, stables, houses – broke the horizon line. Dunstable noted that many of them had been painted in the bright colors that seemed to be favored in this part of the country. He much preferred them to the drab grays employed by the rock farmers in the vicinity of Hollyhock Abbey, his home for the past eight years. But, despite the staid facades the petriculturists shared with their homes, Dunstable had come to learn their hard noses and hard heads hid the warmest of hearts.

He allowed himself a small sigh at that thought. Of course he was excited to help establish a new community in the pursuit of harmony, and he knew there would be many bright young colts and fillies to teach in the school at Luminous Cart Puller’s. Even so, he had grown attached to Hollyhock during his years teaching foals there and working in the community. “But,” he reminded himself with a small grin, “life is change, after all. Though we might not always like it, we can always accept it with good cheer.”

As he crested the hill, he saw he was approaching a fork in the road, beyond which lay a menacing mass of overgrowth that could only be the Everfree Forest. Humming a cheerful tune to himself, he drew a roll of parchment from the depths of his cowled grey habit. A little flourish of magic unfurled what proved to be a large map of southwestern Equestria in front of him. As a pair of reading glasses settled onto his muzzle, Br. Dunstable peered at the map, glancing back up at the path ahead of him from time to time. “Ah, I’m nearly to Ponyville,” he murmured to himself. Carefully rolling up the map, a cloud of teal magic returned the parchment and glasses to the folds of his robes, and the unicorn set out again with a determined stride. Coming to the fork, he turned due east, where the road skirted the very edge of the Everfree.

Although he would arrive in Ponyville in the early afternoon, it was his intention to stop there for the rest of the day. Such a small village was unlikely to have an inn, but he was certain he could take a room at the rectory for a day. And while it promised to be a most pleasant afternoon to spend anywhere in this part of the world, he was particularly keen to pass it in Ponyville. Last Festiva Luna, when the Archabbess of Reinrad had visited Hollyhock Abbey, he had overheard her saying that the current Avatars of the Elements were all dwelling together in the town! Dunstable dearly hoped he could seek them out when he arrived. A chance to meet the mares who were the very embodiment of the virtues to which he had dedicated his life was too good to miss.

As he treaded along the path and Celestia’s sun slowly climbed the vault of the sky, the friar imagined what it would be like to meet the Elements of Harmony in the flesh. He tingled just thinking about it; he had seldom been so excited in all his days! As wonderful thoughts of the stories he would be able to tell the brethren at the priory filled his head, Br. Dunstable just couldn’t help himself. He engaged in what was a great passion and an occasional embarrassment for him: he began to sing.

“Verily, verily, thou shalt be in Harmony today with me…”

He didn’t have a notably good voice, but he had a deep love for vocal music and the great masterworks of the Equestrian choral tradition often sprung to his lips unbidden. Singing like this had made many an unaccompanied mile pass more quickly, and so it proved today. He made rapid progress, and soon, with the sun blazing above at the height of its arc, he was confronted by a roadside marker: Ponyville, 7 miles.

“Ha ha, it won’t be long now!” he chuckled to himself.

The terrain on the south side of the road, opposite the forest, had grown stonier and risen in elevation as he traveled. Now, the road was wending its way up a rocky tor to pass through a cleft at its apex. As Br. Dunstable chuffed his way up, he spied the figure of a pony resting at the entrance of the cleft.

“Ah, hail, fellow-traveler!” Dunstable called out. The figure turned and stared at him intently, then rose to meet him as the friar crested the hill. “Good day to you,” the figure murmured.

“Taking a lunch break, are you? I might join you, but not for long! I’m trying to reach Ponyville with as much time to spare as possible. But, if you’re going my way I’d be grateful for some company.”

“Oh. Yes.” The other pony seemed rather distracted, and began leaning to and fro to examine the berobed brother.

“Ha ha, taking a look at my get-up, are you? My name is Brother Dunstable, and I’m a friar of the Order of Teachers. What is your name, my friend?”

“May I see your hat?”

Br. Dunstable frowned slightly at the sudden non sequitur. “My hat? Hum, certainly.” He levitated the hat from his brow and cocked it at an angle for the review of the other pony.

But the pony didn’t seem interested in the hat at all. Rather, his eyes locked on the horn atop the friar’s head. Seeing it, he smiled. “Oh, yes. Quite nice. I must get one of those for myself. Ah! Yes, yes, I’ll be happy to accompany you to Ponyville, Dunstable. I’m headed that way, yes.” The other pony looked around, then returned his gaze to the monk, giving him a slightly too-wide smile that was deeply unsettling. “But, I wonder… if you would assist me with a small task first?”

“Erm, I suppose, though I can’t tarry here long, you see…” the unicorn replied, not wanting to seem rude, but no longer particularly wishing to pause to speak with this pony, either.

“Oh, yes, yes, it will take but a moment. Would you just come this way, and I’ll show you.”

“Hm, alright, if it will just take a moment,” Br. Dunstable agreed, following the cloaked pony through the cleft in the rock and around the edge of the outcropping.

“Now!” his companion hissed. From atop the tor, a number of cloaked creatures fell upon the hapless little monk.

“Oh! OH! Help!” Br. Dunstable cried, bucking wildly. Sadly, the friar was neither large of frame nor strong of leg, and the poor fellow was quickly overpowered by a group of strange, feral creatures who seized and bound him with grasping claws.

The cloaked pony never turned about to look at the sad display, but when the sounds of struggle had faded away, spoke once again. “My friends, Dunstable here has been kind enough to offer to assist us in our little matter. And a thankful thing it is, for this one completes our set.” The pony smiled darkly to himself. “Now, I have promised him this won’t take long, so let us begin straight away.” With that, he began walking toward the Everfree Forest. His minions followed suit, dragging the weakly kicking friar behind them. The group soon disappeared into the dense foliage that marked the boundary of the forbidding forest.

Within the Sanctum

Aequitas levitated gently, feeling the calm flow of the aether currents around her. Some slight turbulence had arisen in the magic field over the Eastern Sea, but it was drifting away from the coastline. It was unlikely to cause anypony lasting trouble; at worst, it might throw a triangulation spell cast aboard some ship off by a few degrees.

The golden unicorn opened her eyes to gaze across the Sanctum Arcanum. Their unnatural silver glow lit up the dim space before her. Floating beneath the center of the Sanctum’s great dome, the Orb of Aether was calm. Aequitas smiled softly to see that its surface was quite smooth. However, her ears reminded her that sight was a poor guide to the state of the orb. It appeared to be at rest, but the Orb was vibrating imperceptibly; it produced a quiet tone, but as clear as a bell.

The only other sound within the stillness of the Sanctum was the quiet scratching of quill across parchment. Aequitas knew without turning around just what it would be; her dear apprentice, Euphony, was no doubt taking notes as she perused some fresh tome on magical weather or aether dynamics. A fond smile touched the old mare’s lips. She could not have asked for a more thoughtful and assiduous protégé. Although she can be rather over-serious, Aequitas thought. Still, she knew time would ease that condition. A lifetime of balancing the fluctuations of Equestria’s magic field resulted in too many amusing and embarrassing incidents for any mare who bore the task to remain overly concerned with personal dignity.

She was recalling with some amusement the time her attempt to damp an aether vortex had caused a shower of donuts over Fillydelphia when a twinge at the back of her mind brought her concentration back to the aether around her. She could feel a point of stress, manifesting itself as the beginnings of a headache at the base of her skull. Frowning, she reached out with her mind to rotate the Orb. Slowly, its far side rolled into view. Aequitas quickly found the source of stress: a dark point of negative energy was beginning to form there. She was just about to reach out to examine it when, quite suddenly, her mind caught aflame.

* * *

Euphony was carefully working through an analytical solution for the aether flow between two counter-rotating obsidian cylinders when she was shocked by a terrible and lingering shriek that burst from the lips of Lady Aequitas. She jerked to her feet and spun to see her mistress collapse to the ground in a heap, still wailing in an awful, inpony voice. “My Lady, what is it?” cried the nut brown unicorn, but her voice was quickly drowned out; the Orb of Aether had begun to keen in an unbelievably loud and painful tone, matching the screams of its curator. Euphony fell to the ground and clapped her forehooves over her ears, trying to block out the awful din that filled the Sanctum.

Before her eyes, the orb rippled violently around a single dark point, which began to smoke and bubble. At last a dark viscous dome emerged from the aether, beading to form a droplet upon the roiling surface of the orb. Euphony gazed in horror at the crimson drop of blood; it hung for a moment on the surface of their visual representation of Equestria’s magic before beginning to roll down the side of the orb. Or, rather, burn down its side; the droplet left a smoking groove behind it as it rolled along. The keening only grew louder as it did so, as if the orb were some wounded animal. Euphony knew they would be permanently deafened if this went on. She quickly cast a silence spell to block out all sound within the Sanctum. Bolting to her feet, she dragged Lady Aequitas away from the orb to the edge of the wide room. That done, Euphony faced the orb once more, her eyes wide with terror.

The blood drop continued its grim progress along the surface of the orb until it reached the base of the sphere. It hung there for a long moment before dropping to splash on the polished marble of the plinth below. There, it evaporated into a small puff of black smoke. The roiling of the aether now began to calm itself, but an ugly scar remained to mark the path of the forbidding omen. The raw red groove stared at her across the unnatural silence of the marble vault. Euphony had never seen or even read of anything like this before.

At her feet, her mistress rolled feebly into an upright position, wincing as she did so. Her eyes blinked open, restored to their natural forest green now that she was no longer embedded in the room’s magic field. Euphony carefully dropped her silence spell, noting with relief that the terrible keening had ceased. But she didn’t fail to notice that the normally pure tone thrown off by the Orb was now much sharper than before and was wavering noticeably. “My Lady, are you alright?”

Lady Aequitas groaned gently. “I’m afraid this old mare has broken her hip in a fall, my dear. That sort of thing can happen at my age.” She gave a bark of laughter that quickly became a cry of pain. “Oh, Euphony, there’s no time to lose. I will stay here and monitor the Orb. You must run to the Princess as quickly as you can. Tell her that somepony in Equestria has just broken the Unnamed Ordinance.”

“An unnamed ordinance?” Euphony asked in confusion. “Is that what-“

“Young one, there will be time for questions later. Run to Celestia, now!”

Euphony did not require any further encouragement. Though she was concerned for the well-being of her mistress and mentor, she could hardly doubt that this matter was as urgent as Lady Aequitas said. Whatever the message meant, it needed to get to Princess Celestia, and it needed to get to her immediately – if not sooner. The filly spun around and began to magick open the portal of the Sanctum. Although the process of opening the door was always tedious, today the slow clanking of counterweights and fizzling of the arcane wards and magic dampers that surrounded the Sanctum was positively painful. Come on, come on! she thought, trotting in place in her agitation. Finally the hole had opened wide enough for the slim unicorn to squeeze through, and she took off at a full gallop up a tunnel hewn from the living rock of the mountain.

Euphony’s long golden mane swirled behind her as she ran, but she was gradually forced to slow as the tunnel climbed. Although the passage was well-lit by the magic torches embedded in its rough-cut walls every few yards, it was a challenge for her not to turn an ankle. The floor had been worn smooth over the centuries, and she knew from experience there were uneven points and divots that could be treacherous for a running pony.

After a few minutes, she saw the wrought-iron gates of the tunnel’s entrance rushing toward her. Reaching out with her magic, she flipped open the creaking latch and shoved open the heavy gate with a burst of telekinetic force. She ran through the gate at full speed, stopping short and skidding to a halt on the granite floor of Canterlot Castle’s undercroft. Wheeling around, she cast her gaze over the guard detail stationed at the tunnel; they stared back at her, startled by her sudden appearance. Her eyes came to rest on a white pegasus whose slightly more elaborate armor marked him for their serjeant. “Serjeant! Do you know the Princess’ schedule for today?”

“Erm, her schedule, Lady Euphony?”

“Yes, yes! Where is Celestia right now?”

“Ahm, what is this, the eighth hour? Um, if I remember the guard table, she should be meeting with the Privy Council in the Council Chamber.”

“You have my thanks!” Euphony called over her shoulder, already galloping full speed up the passage.

* * *

Serjeant Falcon stared after Euphony with a slightly goggle-eyed expression. She’d finally spoken to him… although she didn’t seem to be in a very good mood. Well, it was a start.

His face hardened when he heard the chortling of some of his squad members. Rounding on them, he fixed an orange pegasus with a piercing gaze. “Something funny, chucklehead?”

“Ah, no sir!” The younger pegasus replied, struggling to keep his face expressionless. “But, ah, are you okay, Sarge? You’re looking awfully red.”

“Shut your face, corporal, or you’ll find yourself reassigned to potato-peeling duty!”

* * *

Euphony raced through the labyrinthine passages of Canterlot’s undercroft until she reached the spiral staircase she was seeking. Climbing it, she found herself at last in the central keep of the castle. She sprinted along a vaulted hallway lined with elaborate stained glass windows. Almost there, almost there! Euphony rounded a corner, bowling over a paper-laden bureaucrat, and arrived in the vestibule of the Council Chamber. “Can… I… go… in?” she wheezed to the guard captain stationed outside the imposing mahogany doors.

“Council’s in session, Lady Euphony. Best come back, unless it’s an emergency.”

“It is,” she gasped and brushed past the pegasi ponying the doors.

Euphony burst into the Council Chamber, puffing and out of breath. Princess Celestia looked up from the pile of papers she was examining with a warm smile. “Oh, Euphony!” Her perceptive gaze quickly noted the unicorn’s distress, and her eyes filled with concern. Celestia rose from her seat at the center of the long table where she was surrounded by her ministers and quickly moved to reach the brown filly. “What’s happened, dear?”

Euphony took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. “Your Highness, Lady Aequitas has been hurt by some sort of magical shock, and she said to tell you that somepony has broken an unnamed ordinance. Princess, I’m not sure—“

She cut herself off as Celestia reared back with a look of rage on her normally placid face. “When?” the alicorn hissed.

“Just now – moments ago, Your – “

“Gentleponies, please excuse me,” Celestia said, turning to her assembled councilors and forcing a blandly pleasant look onto her face. “An urgent matter has arisen.” And with a sudden golden flash, the princess and the unicorn teleported from the chamber.

* * *

“Even money says she set this up just to get out of reviewing the Reform Act,” groused Black Coal, the Tribune of the North.

Apple Bee, the chief council secretary, gave a wry smile. “Those are hardly fair odds,” he replied.

* * *

Celestia and Euphony appeared outside the portal of the Sanctum with a gentle ‘pop’. As Celestia wordlessly applied her magic to unlocking the heavy rolling door, Euphony dropped onto her haunches. She was still a bit worn from her hard gallop, and teleportation always made her feel queasy. She started violently when a well turned-out stallion popped into existence next to her with a golden flash. “— but I rather think that their alaria is inferior. Do you… oh.” The pony Euphony now recognized as High Hat, the palace’s majordomo, blew out his mustaches. “Honestly, Your Majesty, you need to stop doing this. I was in the middle of arranging next month’s seafood purchases with the Chief Procurator.”

As he spoke, the portal finished rolling aside. Euphony was surprised at how quickly the Princess could open it – but I suppose that’s nothing compared to moving the sun. Celestia strode briskly forward. “I am sorry for interrupting, Sir High, but there are several things that must happen immediately, and I need you here now.”

High Hat’s many years of service in the Royal Household had left him keenly attuned to the moods of his Princess, and he had already gleaned from her tone and carriage that this was no time for idle chit-chat. He quickly drew forth his pince-nez, a small leather-bound notebook, and a fountain pen from an inner pocket of his morning coat. He then wordlessly followed his sovereign into the Sanctum, Euphony hastening after him.

Entering into the white marble space, Euphony winced to hear the Orb of Aether still emitting a wavering, discordant tone. Ahead of them, the Princess trotted around the orb’s marble plinth to where Lady Aequitas still lay, her eyes closed and head resting on the floor. Celestia gently knelt beside the old mare. “Are you badly hurt, Aequy?”

“Oh, Celestia,” Aequitas stirred, and looked up at her monarch with a small smile. “I’ve had worse –“ at this she suddenly grimaced as pain shot through her. “Maybe.”

“Where are you injured?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure my hip is shattered, for a start.”

“Lie still, please,” the Princess said gently, lowering her long horn to rest on the old mare’s flank, just above the set of balanced scales that was her cutie mark. A soft golden glow rose from the horn to surround the hindquarters of the aged seer.

“Now, my old friend, you must tell me. What has happened, where, and when?”

“I wish I could tell you something better, but it’s as Euphony told you: the Ordinance has been broken. It was blood magic.”

“It had been so long, I dared to hope the knowledge of such things had been destroyed at last…” the princess sighed.

“When there comes an end to evil, on that day it will be so, my princess. And this was no fumbling experiment of some rouge warlock. This was a spell of great and evil power. It was completed nearly 15 minutes ago, and look there: the scar of it is still plain on the magic field. It hasn’t faded in the least. This damage will linger for some days, I think. The power to make such a mark must have been tremendous.”

“And where did this unspeakable crime occur?”

“That’s the trouble, Celestia. The spell was cast near the heart of the Everfree Forest, but the Forest's disorder makes determining the exact site impossible. Its aether field is just too turbulent for me to locate the spell site with any accuracy.”

“You mentioned damage to the aether field?”

“Yes, powerful magical gradients are still spinning off of that spellscar. Unicorn magic within 50 miles of the spell site will be erratic and unreliable, and pegasi may have some trouble staying on course. The affected area will shrink as the scar fades over the next day or two.”

“Sir High?”

“Yes, my Princess?” the smartly dressed unicorn replied, fountain pen hovering at the ready.

“You are to go to the Captain of the Day Guard. Instruct him to call the entirety of the guard to duty – all leave is canceled until further notice. All soldiers not immediately needed in Canterlot should form up at Ponyville as quickly as possible. Also, call back half the regiment stationed at the northern border forts. I want them close by if they’re needed.”

“It shall be done, Your Majesty.”

“I also want you to tell the commander of the Unicorn Corps and Chancellor Pots to meet me in the Hall of Glass in ten minutes. Tell the Chancellor to be prepared for the possibility of violence. Next, rouse Luna and tell her to come here to the Sanctum at once. Then you are to go to the Magician’s Guild and have them send an advisory to their members in the region of the Everfree that all high-energy spells are banned for the next three days. Please go now.”

“Yes, Princess.” The majordomo spun on his hooves and took off at a dignified yet speedy canter.

“What do you intend to do, Princess?” asked Aequitas, wincing slightly as her hipbone knitted back together under the influence of Celestia’s powerful healing spell.

The Princess lifted her horn from the old mare’s flank and gave her a faint smile. “How does your hip feel, Aequy?”

“Oh, much better, dear heart,” she said, returning the smile. She rose unsteadily to her hooves and took a few steps to test the truth of that statement. Her smile widened as it proved to be so. “Ha, you haven’t had to patch me up like this since I was a little filly.”

The princess tinkled with laughter at the memory. “Well, I suppose a certain student learned conclusively that she wasn’t a pegasus that day.”

Lady Aequitas turned to face her friend and ruler, and her expression grew serious. “What will you do, Celestia?”

“I intend to take the Royal Guard under my personal command,” she said, her face clouding with anger. “We will sweep the entirety of the Everfree, if need be. We will find the creatures responsible for this crime against nature. I am going to precede the Guard column to Ponyville with Commander Coldsteel and Chancellor Pots to arrange matters for the ponyhunt.”

“You’ll need an aetherically-attuned unicorn if you hope to track the spell site quickly, Princess,” Lady Aequitas pointed out. “Though I must remain here within the Sanctum, Euphony possesses great sensitivity to magical fields. Let her accompany you.”

Euphony shied slightly at this, but quickly stood upright and stuck out her chest. “If Equestria needs me, I will not fail you, Princess.”

“I thank you both for your selflessness, but you are needed here, Euphony. Although Lady Aequitas is a fine actor, don’t be fooled; she is still badly hurt. Aequy, you will need to keep stress off your hip for a few weeks to allow it to finish healing. Euphony must remain here to assist you.” Celestia extended a hoof to point at the ugly red gash which marred the ivory surface of the Orb of Aether. “You two must devote all your energy to knitting over the spellscar and balancing the fluctuations propagating from it. When Luna arrives here, she will assist you in this task.” She paused for a moment. “Do you have any coffee or tea here?”

“No, Your Highness.”

“Hm, I’ll send some down before I depart. Luna isn’t much help until she’s had her caffeine, I fear,” Celestia said with a smile.

“But how will you track the spell site?” Aequitas persisted.

“Don’t worry, my friend. I know a pony in Ponyville whose magical sensitivity is unmatched. We will seek out my most faithful student, Twilight Sparkle.”

With that, Celestia trotted out of the portal, beyond the wards and dampers of the Sanctum, and disappeared in a golden flash.

* * *

In a clearing near the dark heart of the Everfree, a red mist was slowly dissipating. Many of the great old trees lining the clearing had been scorched or were hung heavy with ice in defiance of the May warmth. And, despite the fine spring weather, all the plant life within the clearing itself was quite dead. As dead as the seven unicorn corpses arrayed on the foul hexagram that had been carved into the newly-parched earth of the field.

A single cloaked figure stood in the shadows at the edge of the clearing. The pony peered into the mist until he discerned a dull metallic glow from the mouth of a pony in a grey habit, whose body lay at the center of the hexagram. “Excellent.”

The figure called out, “Houndstooth, fetch the artifact here – but take care you don’t touch the blood channels!”

Another creature emerged from the bushes behind him, giggling madly. “Yes, we will fetches it for you!” The canine figure approached the hexagram with a loping gait, but tripped over a stone as he neared the hexagram. Flailing, the unfortunate minion fell across one of the arcane channels hewn into the earth. He was dead before the “zap” reached the edge of the clearing.

The shadowy figure placed a hoof to his face in irritation. “Idiot. Ailith, would you be so kind as to retrieve that?”

A jet black griffin burst from a tree several yards back into the forest and swooped down over the ritual circle. Hovering, she pried a metallic object from the mouth of Br. Dunstable’s corpse, circled about, and dropped it at the feet of the cloaked pony. He examined the artifact with interest: it was a red brass amulet, set with a large ruby. In the shade, it pulsed very faintly with a crimson glow. “At last. At last! The Heart of Gaia is restored!”

Meanwhile, in Ponyville

And the glory, the glory of the Sun shall be revealéd, and all ponies shall see it together…

Twilight smiled to herself: her musical alarm was a success! It was much more pleasant to wake up to the sound of Handle’s Celestia than some jangling bell or a baby dragon poking you in the withers. She rolled onto her side to enjoy the music for a moment.

… for the horn of the Queen hath risen it…

Twilight would need to include this in her thank you letter to her mother. She had sent her this phonograph recording of the Los Pegasus Master Chorale yesterday, and it had served as the spark of inspiration for her latest invention: a simple musical alarm that required only the most rudimentary knowledge of optics and celestial mechanics to set up. And that wouldn’t work on days when morning clouds were scheduled. And that needed you to replace two pieces of string every time it was reset.

Okay, so perhaps it wasn’t the most usable of contraptions, but when a filly was working without magic, certain allowances had to be made. Though Twilight could have simply enchanted a music box to play at a certain time of day, that wouldn’t be a very useful method for non-unicorns, now would it? Hm, but now as I think of it, something based on clockwork would probably be a bit easier to reset, if not to build.

She opened her eyes to look at the device set up on her windowsill. A mirror and focal lens were directing a beam of sunlight which had burned through two strings in succession: the first had dropped a small weight to flip the switch of the phonograph’s turntable, and then a second had dropped the phonograph needle onto the spinning disc. With the lens properly aligned for the position of the sun in the sky at the desired time on any given day of the year, it—

Twilight sat bolt upright in bed. The shadows in her room were all wrong. It was already afternoon! She had seriously overslept! She shot a sharp look at her reflector-and-lens assembly. She couldn’t help but notice that the lens was skewed far from the position she had carefully set it in to awaken her at the third hour on the dot.

“Spike!”

The little dragon poked his head into the door of the bedroom. “Hey, Twilight. Gosh, you must have stayed up late last night.”

Twilight just might have stayed up until the ninth hour of the night working through Tipple’s Causality Violations Under Curved Magical Manifolds, but she waved that aside as a distraction. “Spike, did you adjust that lens this morning?”

“What, that thing? I think I sort of bumped it when I crawled up there to squish a spider, but I moved it back.”

“Arg!” Twilight couldn’t help but facehoof. This alarm concept definitely needed work.

“Uh, are you okay?”

“No, Spike, I am not okay,” Twilight replied in a clipped tone. “Thanks to a certain dragon, I have slept far too late, and my entire schedule for today will need to be re-written.”

“Oh.” Spike scuffed a foot on the floor awkwardly. “Sorry.”

Twilight heaved a sigh. Getting mad wouldn’t fix anything, of course. “No, it’s my fault, Spike. I should have asked you to wake me if I overslept. I guess I had a little too much faith in my latest invention.” She gestured lamely to the contraption under the window. “So, what time is it, exactly?”

“Oh, it’s about half past noon.”

Twilight looked ruefully down at her forehooves. “Ah. Well, I suppose I should get some lunch, then.” She looked up at her assistant. “Care to join me?”

“I’d like to, but I think if you’re going out, I should stay here to watch the library. There are a bunch of colts and fillies in here today. I think they’re studying for finals. Plus,” he said with a teasing grin, “I’ve already had lunch.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Twilight yawned. “Okay, I’ll see you when I get back.”

Twilight rubbed the sleep from her eyes and rolled out of bed, landing on a pile of paper. She would need to find time to organize her notes from last night – argh, and she would need to find time to make a new schedule! Oh well, I suppose I can do that while I eat.

After ducking into the washroom to freshen up and wash her mane, Twilight trotted down the stairs to her study, levitating her pile of bedside notes after her. She roughly straightened the sheaf and laid it on the desk, stifling another little yawn. Okay, Twilight, it’s list time!

Grabbing a scroll, quill, and inkpot with her magic, she began her customary preparations for a trip out. “Find saddlebags? Check. Pack scrolls? Check. Quills and ink? Check and check! Oh, looks like we’re running low on quills, hm, I’ll add that in a minute… ah, datebook, check. Obsolete schedule, check. Money for lunch, there we go. Hm, notes to organize if I have time at lunch – check! So, let’s see… go to Daisy Café, eat lunch, make schedule, organize notes, stop at Quill and Sofa, come home, start following new schedule… okay!” Twilight neatly rolled up the scroll, tucked it into her saddlebag, and turned back to the stairs.

“Hiya, Twilight!”

“GAH! Ah… hi, Applebloom.”

“Oh, sorry if I startled ya. I just don’t get it: I couldn’t sneak up on anypony when we were practicing to be ninjas the other day!”

“Uh… huh. Um, shouldn’t you be in school right now?”

“Uh, but it’s Saturday.”

“Ha, oh, right. Well, um, how are you today?”

“Oh, Twilight, it’s terrible! Exams are next week, and I feel like mah head is going to burst open if I try an’ fit one more fact in there!” The little filly looked down at the floor bashfully. “But I know you’re just about the best at studyin’ there ever was, so I was wonderin’ if you could share some of yer study-secrets with me…”

Twilight smiled at her affectionately. “Oh, Applebloom, of course I’m happy to give you some tips on effective study habits. For any topic, it’s important for you to try to learn the key concepts before you move on to the details. Now, what you ought to do is sit down with your notebook and write out, on a nice, clean piece of paper, the main ideas and concepts from each lecture. Is there any particular subject that’s giving you trouble?”

“Well, it’s vocab and hist’ry, mostly. There’s just so much memorizin’ to those!”

“Ah, well I think I have just the trick for you.” Twilight turned and, pulling open a drawer in her desk, produced a pile of small cards with a flourish. “Now, do you know what these are?”

“Index cards?”

“That’s right! I use these to make up a new card catalog whenever I reorganize the library.” Which I do entirely too often. “Now, when you need to memorize structured information, like a set of words and their definitions, what you can do is write out the word on the front of a card and the definition on the back. Then, you can use the cards to drill yourself until you’ve got them all memorized.”

“Oh…” Applebloom marveled, goggle-eyed at receiving wisdom from the master.

“Now, for an unstructured subject like history, there are a few good mnemonic devices you can try.”

“Pneumatic devices? Like on that Cider-Squeezy thing?” Applebloom asked incredulously.

“Ha ha, no, mnemonic devices. Those are just special strategies to help you remember something. I’ll bet you know some already. Did Cheerilee teach you a special way to remember the names of the planets, for example?”

“Oh, yeah! ‘Her Aunt’s Griffin Ate Popped Corn.’”

“Ha, yes, that’s the one I was taught, too. And you know how it works, right? Since the first letter of every word matches the name of a planet, we can use that to remind us of their name and order: H for Hinnes, A for Aphrodame, G for Gaia, A for Ares, P for Peus, and C for Cronus. And it’s a lot easier to remember that sentence than a list, isn’t it?”

“Shore is!”

“And that’s just one kind of mnemonic device. I’m going to teach you another one that was really useful to me when I was a little filly. Close your eyes, and imagine a room in your mind. Now, let’s fill that room with objects to help you remember the important elements of a particular subject. Let’s say you want to remember things about the First Condominium. You could put a pair of lamps in there to remind you of Celestia and Luna – put them up on the mantle, to symbolize them ruling over all the ponies. Put a broken clock on the wall to remind yourself of the defeat of Cronus, and an out-of tune music box for Discord. You could also put a picture of Winona in there to remind you of the Lupine War, and a snowglobe on the mantle to remind you of the Treaty of Snowy Summit. Do you see?”

“Oh, wow, Twilight! That’s really neat! What should I think of for the Emergency?”

“Ha, Applebloom, this will only really work if you do it for yourself. You need to fill your own mental rooms with items that will remind you, not me or anypony else, of the topics you need to remember. They don’t even need to make sense to me, so long as they work for you!”

“Oh boy! Ah’m feeling a lot better now, Twilight! Is it okay if I go and try it out right now?”

“Ha ha, of course! But, don’t forget to take these index cards.”

“Oh, right.” The little filly grasped the stack in her mouth. “Bayh!” she mumbled, and scurried back down the stairs.

I suppose you can’t schedule for everything. Twilight smiled to herself. Her smile widened as she passed through the main room of the library and saw Applebloom talking animatedly to the other Cutie Mark Crusaders about the neat trick Twilight had just taught her. A cry of “Cutie Mark Crusaders-Memorizers!” sounded out behind her as she stepped out the front door, followed quickly by a hiss of “Quiet! This is a library!”

Twilight surveyed the midday scene in the town square. A great many ponies were out enjoying the weather or doing some weekend shopping. Mayor Mare and Judge Lime were walking together on the veranda of the town hall – Twilight made a mental note to go see the mayor with her windmill idea this week – and a traveling magician was putting on a small pyrotechnic performance at the front of the building. Meanwhile a pair of fillies who apparently didn’t feel a strong need to prepare for their finals goggled at jewelry in the shop window across the way. You’ll regret that, Diamond Tiara…

Twilight strolled across the square, waving hello to Carrot Top as she passed her vegetable stand, and turned a corner onto the quiet sidestreet that played host to the Daisy Café. She settled down at a table on the patio to enjoy the fresh air. Smileshine, the owner, came out to greet her, bringing a menu and the bowl of fresh daisies that came free with every meal. The pale yellow earth pony winked at Twilight. “Would you like the lunch menu, dear? Or will this be breakfast again?”

Twilight grinned at the gentle ribbing – her irregular sleep schedule was becoming rather infamous around town. “Ha, the lunch menu will be fine, Smileshine.”

“I’ll be back in a minute to take your order, then.” She moved on to check on the family at the next table. Twilight glanced over the menu; there appeared to be some nice specials today, but she was already fairly certain what she would be having. She took a mouthful of daisies and chewed thoughtfully. Her mind made up, she lifted off her saddlebags and pulled out her quill, inkpot, datebook, the expired schedule, and a blank scroll. She was already hard at work recasting her weekend schedule when Smileshine returned with a glass of icewater, a generous lemon wedge perched on the rim.

“Mind made up, dear?”

“Oh, yes. I’ll have the GBLT.”

“Green branches, lettuce and tomato, very good. Would you like that on sourdough or wheat toast, dear?”

“Oh, sourdough, I suppose.”

“I’ll have that right out to you. Now, don’t let me interrupt!”

Twilight gave her a thankful smile, and returned her attention to the half-finished schedule. By the time Smileshine returned with her plate, she had finished that task, checking it off her list with a satisfied swoop. As she chewed the crisp sandwich – no one could make a GBLT quite like Smileshine! – she moved on to reviewing her notes from last night. She had been trying to find an error in Prof. Tipple’s work, but to her consternation, his prediction of a breakdown of causality under certain conditions appeared to be a valid solution of the Einstride field equations. Well, I doubt there’s enough magical energy in the entire world to warp the aether field sufficiently to achieve these conditions, in any case. Still, that dismissive thought wasn’t entirely satisfying to Twilight.

Twilight was reflecting that the more she learned about the world, the less she seemed to know, when she was startled back to reality by an orange bouncing off the back of her head. “Hey!” she squawked, turning around to glare that the unicorn couple sitting behind her. “What was that for?”

The hunter-green stallion blushed deeply. “I’m so sorry, miss, I, I don’t – this sort of thing never happens to me…”

“Oh, you don’t make a habit of hurling fruit at unsuspecting ponies?”

“No! I mean, my levitation spell misfired…” His blush deepened, and he turned away from her gaze.

Twilight was incredulous. Levitation spells were the most basic form of unicorn magic: they were simple, reliable, took little energy for light objects, and essentially never misfired. They certainly never misfired badly enough to throw a lifted object away.

“We’re so sorry, miss, he really didn’t do it on purpose,” said the teal mare sitting with him. “Here, let me get you cleaned up…” She lifted a cloth napkin and proceeded to slap Twilight full in the face with it!

“What is your problem?!” Twilight cried, jumping to her feet. She had never met a ruder pair of ponies!

“I – I don’t understand! I was trying to daub your – honey, what’s happening?!”

“Oh, forget it,” Twilight snapped. Her good mood had completely deserted her. She quickly pulled some bits from her saddlebag, tossed them onto the table, and repacked her papers.

Behind her, the unicorn stallion was focusing intently on a daisy left in the bottom of his bowl. His face etched with concern, he gently lifted it and floated it in front of his face – but after a moment it flew off into the street. “Honey bun, I think we need to go see the doctor – something is very wrong here.”

Twilight, however, was already striding away, her saddlebags drifting after her. Stepping into the street, she returned her bag to her back only to be splashed with the sugary contents of a mixing bowl that came sailing out of the second story window of the house across the street. “Did somebody put a ‘throw food at me’ sign on my back?” Twilight asked, half in earnest, twisting around to peer at her flanks. With a sigh, Twilight resolved to skip visiting the quill store – she just wanted to get back to the library before somepony tried to pelt her with rotten vegetables.

However, as she stepped back into the town square, the peaceful scene of small town tranquility she had observed not an hour before had been replaced by utter pandemonium. The roof of the town hall was all ablaze, and ponies were running around in a panic. The magician she had seen performing earlier stood before it, hooves to his face, apparently frozen in horror. Meanwhile Mayor Mare was trying to arrange a bucket brigade from the well to the hall, but, to her mounting frustration, the unicorns drawing up the buckets kept flinging them in random directions rather than passing them along the line. “Stop that at once! Do you think this is a game?” she screamed at a cyan unicorn Twilight recognized as Lyra. “I don’t know why this is happening,” Lyra cried back, bursting into panicked tears.

Twilight now realized something very serious was going on – however, before she could investigate the situation further, she would need to put out this fire. She quickly cast a spell on herself she had learned on her most recent visit to Canterlot and, in a booming voice that filled the entire square, shouted “STAND BACK, EVERYPONY!” Her voice cut through the din of shouting and collapsing roof beams as two dozen heads swiveled to look at her. After a moment the crowd backed away from the burning structure. Twilight firmly planted herself in a four-footed casting stance, and began to strain at casting a powerful spell. Slowly, water began streaming up out of the well and levitating in an amorphous blob. As Twilight strained harder, her horn throwing off an widening incandescent cone, the stream thickened until it filled the entire width of the wellshaft, and the water blob quickly grew to enormous size. With one final heave, Twilight tossed the huge ball of water at the burning roof, which was extinguished in a cascade of hissing steam and breaking timbers. Twilight collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily.

Mayor Mare galloped up to her. “Oh, thank you, Twilight Sparkle!” Twilight, too worn out to speak for the moment, nodded in reply. “And as for you,” the mayor continued, rounding on the red-caped showpony with an expression of cold fury, “what do you have to say for yourself?”

The magician was agog. “I swear to you, Mayor, I only cast a sparkler spell.”

“You mean to tell me that” - the mayor thrust a hoof at the smoking ruin of the hall’s roof - “was a sparkler?!”

“It was, it was, I swear it to Celestia!”

“You can swear it to Judge Lime, if that’s the story you want to stick with. You’re under arrest for reckless endangerment and destruction of public property!”

Twilight struggled to her feet. “WAIT, MA-“ she paused, silently dispelling the Royal Canterlot Voice. “Wait, Mayor. I think he might be telling the tru-“

“Help! Help! Um, help!”

Twilight’s head snapped around to locate the origin of the cry. Sugarcube Corner. Twilight turned and galloped into the bakery.

Mr. Cake lay off shouting. “Oh, hello Twilight.” He sounded remarkably calm, given that he was being jerked around the room upside-down as a wailing Pumpkin apparently experienced a power surge. “You know, the baby books led me to believe she would be past this stage by now,” he remarked, his head bumping along the floor merrily. “Now, if it’s not too much trouble, could you do something before I get a concussion?”

Twilight cast a quick counterspell, and Mr. Cake collapsed gratefully to the ground. Twilight could now actually feel violent fluctuations in the aether buffeting against her horn. While that could make it seriously difficult for unicorns to control their magic, it could actually do physical harm to a baby like Pumpkin. She quickly stepped to where the infant lay wailing and, lowering her horn, cast a suppression field over the little foal. She turned to Mr. Cake, who had risen unsteadily to his feet. “Are you okay, Mr. Cake?”

“Oh, never better, Twilight.” He winced as he touched the large bruise atop his head. “Okay, I’ve probably been better. But thank you for that, I was—“

A blood-curdling shriek erupted from the direction of the Carousel Boutique. “Rarity!” Twilight cried, dashing out the door and across the footbridge. She burst through the door of the boutique at a full gallop, careening to a halt as she tripped over a clotheshorse. “Rarity, what is it?” she shouted, leaping to her feet.

Rarity was standing at her work table, wearing her reading glasses. She turned around with a pout. “Oh, Twilight, it’s awful, simply awful. I have been working on a dress for a very important customer; I can’t name names, but you’d know her, believe me. I wanted to have it ready for her tomorrow, and I've been right on schedule. A moment ago I happened to notice this seam is stitched a bit crookedly, and I wanted to resew it. But when I grasped the thread, my horn had some sort of spasm, and look: I tore it! My own dress! Oh, Twilight, this is the worst. Possible. Thing!”

Twilight gave her friend a sardonic look. “That’s it?”

“Yes, that is most certainly ’it’. This will take at least a day to repair, you know.”

Twilight sighed. “Okay. Just – just don’t use your magic for a few hours, Rarity. Something’s going on with the magic field in Ponyville, and it could be dangerous.”

Rarity looked up with a startled expression. “What is it, Twilight? Can I help?”

“I don’t know, to be honest. Just, try to stay indoors, and don’t use any magic.”

“Oh! But Sweetie Belle is still at the library. Will she be safe there?”

“The library!” Twilight gasped, wheeling about as a thousand scenarios of doom played across her mind. Twilight once again galloped across the town square. As she ran, she cast the Royal Canterlot Voice spell once again. “UNICORNS OF PONYVILLE!” she thundered. “DON’T USE YOUR MAGIC! I REPEAT, IT IS UNSAFE TO USE ANY MAGIC AT THIS TIME!” She continued to shout her warning until she reached the library, where she paused to dispel the voice a second time before bursting through the door. To her vast relief, rather than a scene of panicked chaos and burning books, she saw only little fillies and colts quietly studying amongst the dusty tomes.

“Hiya, Twilight!” Applebloom called out. “Lookit these notecards we made up!”

“Sh!” said the portly little earth pony at the next table.

Twilight walked over to their table and gave their proudly displayed flashcards a cursory glance. “Oh, yes, those are very nice, girls. Listen, I think you all should stay here for a bit, there’s something strange going on – so just don’t leave without telling me, okay?”

The Cutie Mark Crusaders exchanged a worried look. “Is everything okay, Twilight?”

“Yes, yes, everything will be fine, just promise me you’ll stay here for now?”

“Okay, Twilight,” Sweetie Belle said.

“Great, now do you girls know where Spike is?”

“I think he went upstairs a few minutes ago,” replied Scootaloo.

“Okay, I need to go see Spike for a minute, but I’ll be back,” Twilight said in the soothing tone of voice which is most prone to unintentionally worry perceptive little colts and fillies. She turned and headed for the stairs.

* * *

“Great, now how are we supposed to focus on studying?” asked Scootaloo.

“Well, we could try makin’ more cards…” Applebloom mused.

“What, when there’s something exciting or dangerous going on in town?”

“The only ‘dangerous’ thing I’m worried about is my mom if I don’t ace this exam,” murmured Sweetie Belle.

* * *

Twilight wandered up the stairs to the library’s second level. “Spike, where are you?” she called out.

“Up here, Twilight!” came the reply from up the stairs. “Hold on, I’m com- *hic* *thump* Urk.” There was a long pause, and then Spike spoke again in a much more nasal tone. “Uh, Twilight, can I get some help here?”

Twilight trotted around the curve of the stairway to find him lying on the stairs in some discomfort, with the end of a scroll protruding from his nose. “Oof,” Twilight said with a wince. “Hold still for a second.” She carefully extracted the parchment from the little dragon’s sinus cavity.

“Ah, thanks. Geez, burping up those letters is usually bad enough. If the Princess wants to start sending them up my nose, I may need to go on strike.”

Twilight unfurled the scroll, which was in the Princess’ graceful, swooping hornwriting, but appeared to have been written in great haste.

My Dearest Twilight,

I shall be arriving in Ponyville within the hour. Please meet me at the Town Hall, and arrange for the mayor and local magistrate to attend me, as well. I have also issued a ban on high energy spellcasting in your province for the next three days. Please pass this information along to the magicians of Ponyville as quickly as possible.

I will explain all upon my arrival.

Yours,
Celestia

“What is it, Twilight?” Spike asked, craning his neck to get a view of the brief note.

“I don’t know, Spike. But I think we’re about to find out.”