Chapters In the Castle of the Pony Sisters
Nightmare Moon is gone. No more does the night mean darkness and terror, but coolness, shade, and the starry, infinite heavens. But in accordance with ancient pact and secret ritual, it is also the time of countless bloodthirsty creatures and numerous evil magics. Much care must be taken, especially in the everfree forest, if you are to prevent being caught up in that which you do not understand. Princess Luna is not the only thing that wakes by moonlight.
It was with this in mind that Zecora crossed into the ancient ruin that was the Castle of the Pony Sisters, her hood and shawl drawn tight. She had, of course, taken the utmost precautions before departing her thatched-roof hut: Hinn's Decoction of Deception, refined from ingredients most rare, muffled her steps, and blurred her form. Sussuruss's Cunning Cloak, a mixture most difficult to prepare, muddled the minds of those who would observe her, causing them to mistake the zebra for something more innocuous. Yet, even with such magical protections, she tread carefully. The animals of the forest, from hydra to timber wolf, ran from the ruin as though it was on fire. Something was driving them away.
She marched easily through the massive, open entryway that was once sealed with doors of cedar and iron, those doors now rotted into dust centuries ago. She walked silently, passing quietly through abandoned halls and empty rooms, each filled with nothing but silence and ruin, pausing to inspect the occasional ivy-wreathed frieze of Luna and Celestia, or to stare at broken windows of stained glass.
At last she came to the great double-doors that led to the Throne Room, the great stone doors a beautiful mural of lapis-and-ivory, inlaid with gold and mother-of-pearl, now nearly ruined with neglect and thick with ivy. It was beautiful now, too, in its own way, she supposed.
"Now is not the time for watching scenery. Nor admire rapacious greenery."
Zecora put her shoulder to the doors and pushed. They opened slowly, a great, creaking noise that made her shiver. As soon as they were open just a crack, she slipped through, the massive plate of stone immediately sliding shut behind her. She had reached the Throne Room.
The great chamber was a chiaroscuro of moonlight and shadow. Watching over everything were the Twin Thrones, one gilt with gold, the other with lapis. The wide couches had backs that came to a peak, and each was crowned with a symbol of the sun, and of the moon.
"The Princesses each have a separate care. Why then twin symbols on each chair?"
Zecora didn’t have time to ponder pre-Discord symbolism. She kept looking. Luna's light gleamed bright as it poured into the great, stentorian room of basalt and white marble. Besides the thrones that held court over the shadows still, A small, solitary patch of moonlight, allowed in through the broken roof, illuminated something else, too. Right in the middle of the floor, the thick basalt had been broken like an eggshell, revealing stairs that led down into darkness.
"Never have I seen this before, but that is not new, beneath this floor."
The zebra's hooves sounded mutely as she cantered towards the hole. She stopped at the edge, peering into it, before closing her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, they glowed golden, her pupils slitted and catlike.
It was a long way down, the stairs going far deeper underground than she expected. Or perhaps it was simply her nerves getting the better of her. She sucked in a breath, and let it out slowly. She could see the bottom of the stairs now, it wasn't too much farther, and hopefully she would find some answers as to what was going on. As soon as she reached bottom, she saw torches gleaming down the hall, framing a doorway ahead. She froze.
Zecora exhaled, careful not to make a sound. She took another breath. Her hearing strained, searching for the faint sound of breathing, the sound of hooves on stone, anything.
Silence.
She took a step, moving even more gingerly than she had been before, and then another. Nothing reacted to the muffled sound of her hooves. She paused again, then cantered forward slowly, her jaw clenched.
As she got closer, she could make out that the room appeared to be a burial chamber. The view from the hallway was dominated by a large, stone coffin. As she got even closer, she realized that the open doorframe hadn't always been so. The doors had been ripped off their stone hinges, lying flat inside the room.
She stopped just outside, and listened. Again, only silence greeted her.
She stepped inside.
It smelled old. Musty. Like something had died, and decomposed to dust long, long ago. The room itself was not very big, perhaps twice as long as the coffin and just as wide. The fallen doors made it seem more crowded than it was.
The stone lid was open, slid just to the side to allow someone to look at the body. Zecora took a breath, her muscles tense, and peered inside.
A...skull. Nothing else, just a skull. Frightening to some, perhaps, but bones were familiar to Zecora. She let out the breath she'd been holding in, and suddenly felt very foolish.
I'm not sure what I was expecting. It's a strange skeleton, yes, but a skeleton nonetheless...hm?
"A crown atop your bony head? A king keeps not a crown who'se dead."
The crowned skull had little to say in response. She looked over the rest of the coffin, and found what she was looking for. An inscription, written across the coffin lid. The letters were in Old Equestrian.
She sighed. It wasn’t unexpected, but it was frustrating. Her Old Equestrian was not the best. She leaned closer, trying to see the letters more clearly. As she did, she noticed her breath was erasing part of the message.
She bolted back, looking at the letters with narrowed eyes.
She lifted a foreleg gingerly, and barely touched a letter with a hoof, smuding a corner.
"An epitaph in dust? Ephermal as rust. How could it have survived?"
She leaned forward again, careful to control her breathing, and tried to remember her old equestrian.
"...Grind me to dust." she translated, slowly. "Even then shall I return."
She peered at the odd message, pondering. So deep was she in thought that she almost missed the sound of heavy, wet-sounding footsteps coming down the stairs.
Zecora whirled. That sound...a lion? Too large. It sounded like a hydra, with heavy, broad steps, except for that other sound. A metallic rasp, like chains being drug across the ground, rattling and clinking against each other.
Celestia, that -smell-...
She slipped into the shadows, and readied herself.
“…and so it is with the greatest pleasure that I, and the Tower of Magic, bestow upon Twilight Sparkle the title of Archmage, the first in a century. Congratulations, Twilight.”
The princess lowered her voice so that only Twilight could hear. “I’m so proud.” She said, smiling beatifically at the purple unicorn.
Twilight blushed.
“No, thank you, Princess.” she said, grinning excitedly from ear to ear. “I mean, the only reason I’m even here today is because you took such an interest in me and-“
“You honor me, Twilight.” The Princess said, interrupting the assuredly-underserved self-effacement that was so typical of her greatest student when talking directly with her. “But this is your achievement. You’re the most talented unicorn the Tower has seen for more than a hundred years, and twice as hardworking. You more than deserve this.”
Twilight’s face turned a deeper shade of red.
“I hope you realize as well the responsibility that comes with it.” Celestia intoned, raising an eyebrow archly. “Archmage is not a ceremonial title. You are now the greatest wizard in Equestria, her foremost magical resource, her staunchest ally, Duchess of the Adamantine Tower, her grace the Grand Magus of Equestria.”
Despite herself, Celestia couldn’t help but crack a small smile.
“I’ll…uh, I’ll try and do my best, princess.” Twilight laughed weakly.
Celestia shook her head. She really was something.
She didn’t deserve her.
The speech was next. Twilight stood calmly in the face of the crowd – something that might have driven her nearly mad with anxiety not so long ago. But since being sent to Ponyville, Twilight had grown in so many ways that had nothing to do with magic, and everything do with those five friends that were even now cheering for her from their seats. Her family was there too – her parents, Shining Armor, and even Princess Cadance.
Rarity, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, and even Fluttershy, each one stomping on the ground in applause as she stepped down from the podium after her speech. Celestia smiled to herself again, and gave the slightest of nods to Rainbow Dash. The Pegasus’s magenta eyes grew wider, and she grinned maniacally before taking off like a shot.
“Your Highness, I’m so sorry to bother you, but…”
She turned her head. One of her assistants had climbed up on to the stage and was trying to be as un-noticeable as it was possible to be next to the Princess. It was Coffee Cream, a gray-colored earth pony stallion with a coffee cup as his cutie mark. He wasn’t a particularly important pony, but he was hard-working, and managed to keep the mercurial weather teams working smoothly throughout the entire kingdom. His eyes looked perpetually haggard, a side effect of his late nights combing through expense reports and weather schedules. He was holding a letter.
“It’s from Miss Zecora, ma’am. It’s…Luna insisted you read it immediately.”
Celestia blinked. A gentle golden glow enveloped the scroll and lifted it from his grasp. She thanked him absently and unrolled it.
A piece of Zecora’s mane was glued onto the scroll with some unknown adhesive. A single line in nearly illegible old equestrian was scrawled beneath it.
“Grind me to dust, Celestia. Even then shall I return.”
She stared at the parchment, eyes goggling, then almost as an afterthought held it close to her nose, sniffing. The dry smell of paper, and… horrific rot. The latter she recognized. She could never forget it.
She had almost forgotten about the Sonic Rainboom. With a thunderous crack, Rainbow Dash pierced the sound barrier, the noise shaking the ground, the explosion lighting the gardens every shade of every color at once.
It was gorgeous, as always. A magical vortex of every color, as vibrant and full of life and promise as the pony who made them. The princess rolled the scroll back up, and turned to look at the new Archmage of Equestria. Twilight Sparkle.
Her Faithful Student.
Enveloped as she was in every color of the rainbow, her eyes shining as she gazed in awe with everypony else at the amazing spectacle of the Sonic Rainboom, Celestia had only one thought.
This isn’t fair.
The Great and All Powerful Trixie
The Great and All Powerful Trixie
The road from Appaloosa was always the worst.
It was several weeks away from anything, on foot, which is the only way Trixie could transport her mobile home and stage to new venues. The first week of travel, in particular, was very bad. Miles and miles of red dust and flat scrubland, dotted with the occasional rocky plateau, and not another soul in sight for a solid week straight.
Trixie sighed, adjusting the hitch around her shoulders, and pulled harder.
Last night while she was making camp, munching on plain hay and water, she had watched the sun set behind the distant Hirzai mountains, bathing her, her little cart, and the camp she’d made in brilliant summer red. When she’d been growing up, she remembered seeing the same color on the flowers that grew in the fields in the valley near her house. Castilleja , her mother had called them, Prairie-Fire. She’d watched the sun, enraptured, until it finally sank below the horizon, until she couldn’t see even the smallest finger of light peeking above the mountaintops. She’d ran a hoof over her face, and realized her cheeks were wet.
Her first reaction had been to laugh, surprised at her tears, a response which quickly morphed into fury, her hind leg raising just slightly as though to buck something behind her.
“The great, and powerful Trixie does not CRY.” She’d yelled, and when that didn’t help, she’d grabbed the cast iron pot she’d set out for boiling water and threw it as hard as she possibly could. It landed somewhere in the desert, bouncing off a rock with a satisfying clang.
“I don’t need…The Great and Powerful Trixie doesn’t need anyone’s help. She is more than sufficient to dazzle the world on her own.”
Looking back, talking to herself was not a good sign. And it had taken her hours to find that pot again.
She shook her head, pulling at her yoke just a bit harder, unconsciously trying to trot while she was pulling her cart behind her. Clearly, she just needed to get out of this forsaken desert with its Celestia-forsaken sand and it’s Celestia-forsaken rocks and move on to somewhere where it was green and nice and there were people around.
Not that she cared if anyone was around, but it was very boring all by herself.
She could see the crossroads sign up ahead in the distance. If she remembered correctly, the split in the road led to either Canterlot or Fillydelphia, depending on what way you took. Canterlot was a tough crowd, very upper-crust. They liked their entertainment refined and artistic, but sometimes the sheer novelty of her act drew in nobleponies and socialites who liked to see something more “folksy”. It had been awhile since she’d been there. She decided that it was worth a try.
About ten minutes later, she saw something odd. Someone else was on the path, standing at the sign. Trixie brightened up even as she scowled at herself for doing so.
Perhaps that person was lost? Trixie would be more than happy to guide them along the way. She knew all the paths and roads throughout the entire kingdom, from long practice and study.
Her grin faded a little bit as she got closer. It was quickly becoming clear that whatever it was, it wasn’t a pony. It was…tall. Almost as tall as the sign.
The creature slowly came into view. Trixie stopped, goggling.
It can’t be.
It was a human.
Trixie had never seen one, of course. Humans were extinct. She knew what they looked like, from pictures she had seen, artistic renditions the Princesses had shown of what the human skeletons looked like with flesh on them. And there were the stories: mercurial and terrible creatures, capable of compassion and cruelty within the same two breaths. Their passion burned like the sun itself, and in their unending ambition, they destroyed themselves. They were frightful, creatures of myth.
This one was smoking a cigarette. He looked to be wearing a black formal suit, adapted to his strange form, with a pair of round glasses perched on his nose, and he was leaning against the signpost for support. He tipped his hat to her, a short-brimmed thing that didn’t work at all to keep the sun off of him, all the while smiling at Trixie. Slowly, taking careful steps forward, Trixie ran her eyes over the strange creature, almost as though trying to confirm what her eyes saw.
He was wearing a Castilleja on his lapel. They didn’t grow in the desert, only in prairieland. It was more like a colored herb, and wasn’t something usually –worn-. He couldn’t possibly…
Trixie stared at him silently for a moment longer, standing very still.
“Good morning.” the man said.
Trixie blinked. “You can…talk?” She took another step forward, pulling her cart with her. “Trixie understood humans to have lived ten thousand years prior to the current time. How is it you can speak Equestrian?”
The human laughed, and took off his hat, using it to brush the dust from his jacket. “I would normally enjoy attempting to mislead you, but I have something of a schedule I’d like to keep. No, I’m not a human, just…close enough.”
Trixie raised an eyebrow. “Trixie is quite certain you look like a human. Is this some sort of prank? If so, Trixie is less than impressed.”
He gave her an even look. “When someone dies in pain, betrayed by those they trusted, and water the earth with innocent blood…the earth remembers the echoes of their lives. If enough die in the same place like this, the ground becomes hallowed. Cursed.” he said, giving her a sly grin. “The echoes of the dead, now, they aren’t quite souls, but they are very…well, close. Some know how to use them for their own benefit. One such freed me, and know I’m speaking to you on his behalf. I have an offer for you.”
Trixie’s mouth curled. “Really. The living dead have an offer for Trixie. Trixie thinks she’s heard just about enough for today. She suspects your silly little hat has left you with sunstroke.” she said, and began to pull her wagon towards Canterlot, setting a quick pace.
“How would you like to hear from your mother again?”
Trixie stopped, her head whirling around, both eyes wild with anger. She shrugged out of her harness and walked up to the man with short, brisk steps. “Trixie will thank you to not speak about Trixie’s family. Trixie’s mother is quite fine and I think this prank has gone quite far enough .” she said, her horn glowing.
She’d meant to rip the man’s belt off, tie his legs up with it and leave him hanging from the signpost, but where her Telekinesis touched him, his body disintegrated, swirling like smoke, as though she’d tried to grasp mist.
“I’ve met her, you know. She said she forgives you, Trixie. She misses you almost as much as you miss-“
The gem around Trixie’s neck, the one that usually served to pin her starry cloak in place during performances, glowed azure blue. Trixie’s eyes were white with magic, the sign of a powerful unicorn far more angry than they should be. Her tail and mane burned with magic, transformed into a deep blue flame, icy-cold and wreathed with stars.
“Oh please.” the man said, rolling his eyes. “I am a ghost. A living curse. More in your mind than in the world. You couldn’t harm me if you tried, not with fire, nor with light. Truly, I’m not here to mock you. I have an offer.”
Trixie snorted, pawing at the ground in front of her. “Trixie wouldn’t give a rotten apple what you have to offer. Trixie thinks you should leave, before she does something regrettable.”
“I was going to offer you a chance to speak with your mother again, but that’s not what you want, is it, Ms. Lulamoon.” his eyes, before an unremarkable brown, seemed to sink deeper into the shadows of his face, where they peered out with a dull red glow, like embers in the dark. “Something the Great and Powerful Trixie does want is…well, to live up to her name.”
“Admit it. Half of that display you’re putting on is pure illusion. The dead can tell. You’re not a tenth of what you claim to be.” he smiled, a mocking grin on his face. “Hard work can only take you so far, I suppose. They did say that such meager talents would find it difficult to be admitted to the Tower of Magic...”
“Enough!” Trixie spat, features twisted with anger. “Why should I-“
“Believe me?” the man leaned forward, mocking grin still planted on his face. “You should. Isn’t this your favorite flower?”
The man straightened up again, mocking grin gone. “My master can make the dead walk, and blot the sun from the sky. If power is what you want, he can give it to you. More power than you can imagine. You’ll be the greatest archmage to ever live. He wants in return only…a favor. A single task, after which you will be free to go on about your life.”
The embers of his eyes smoked. “Say no, and I will leave, and you’ll never see me again. Say yes…”
Trixie stood silently for a long time.
“Suppose I say yes. Who are you?”
He smiled. “The Dirge.”
Before the world was made, there was only a great darkness, a silent void over an endless ocean.
The creator came then, and spoke. He opened vault of the sky to the crystal sphere of the starry heavens above, and soon after, the sun rose for the first time upon the world. The oceans receded into the deep, and the dry land was formed. With the light of heaven, he sculpted the land into continents and islands. With the cool of night, he caused all manner of living things to grow. He shaped all manner of living things, from the birds in the sky, to the fish in the sea, and everything that crawled upon the earth.
But when he looked at his works, he was not satisfied. The life had not awakened. And so the creator descended from the heavenly vault and walked upon the dry land. From his blood, he made the first unicorn. From his breath, he made the first pegasus. From his bones, he made the first earth pony. But from his flaming heart, he made humanity, and so it has been that humanity has ever since been called sons of fire.
And when he laid down to die, he created two sons, and he named them Destroyer and Preserver. He tasked them with watching over his creation – The Preserver to keep his creation from descent into chaos, and The Destroyer, to prune what was dead, and to from death beget new life.
But they were wicked, and did not love the works of their father.
-On Creation (Preface), Princess Luna, Restricted Archive, Royal Canterlot Library
“We’ll stop here.” Dirge said.
Trixie raised a single eyebrow, taking stock of their surroundings. They were in the Everfree Forest, and as far as she could tell, it looked just about like every other part of the Everfree Forest. Green, dark, foreboding, and ultimately boring.
“Trixie doesn’t see what makes this spot any more special than anywhere else in this forest. Why here?” she dug a hoof through the dirt, and grimaced when she unearthed a fat, wriggling grub.
“This is Avalon. Are you not impressed?” Dirge said, smiling easily. He did that far too often for Trixie’s liking.
“This, the everdistant city, our utopia, the dream in the heart of mankind.” he sighed softly. “A city of towers, of marble and gold, of kindness, and gentleness, nobility and wisdom. The great spire would shine eternally, they said, an artifice of diamond and stone and holy fire, an everlasting symbol of the supremacy of wisdom and law.”
Trixie’s face was one of indifference, but she couldn’t keep the curiosity out of her eyes. “I see. What happened to it?”
Dirge smiled wide, and laughed like she’d made a joke. Trixie attempted to ignore him – he often did such things, finding the strangest sights or comments hilarious. Her attempts to needle him into anger were often met with such reactions.
She was used to traveling alone, but he’d refused to leave her alone ever since she agreed to help him. When they reached civilization, instead of disappearing like she’d hoped, he’d taken the form of an earth pony, Last Stop, with a white lily for a cutie mark. Trixie loved having other ponies attention, but she wasn’t used to having someone with her every moment of every day. Off the stage, she was a bit of a loner. Traveling all the way from Appleoosa to the Everfree had been quite the exercise in patience for the Great and Powerful Trixie.
Another thing that made his smiles unsettling; his teeth. They weren’t flat like ponies’ teeth were. He had fangs, like some kind of animal.
“I…well, I suppose, I suppose we did.” Dirge coughed, catching his breath, and gave one last chuckle. “I’m sorry, it’s just…well, you live in such a nice time.” he paused, taking his glasses off and cleaning them on his shirt. “Discord is a statue in your Princess’s flower garden. Children are taken on tour to see the frightening Draconequus, with all his scary claws and silly horns.”
He replaced his glasses, giving Trixie a sharp look. His expression was less amused. “You don’t live in a place where the sky can rain chocolate milk, or blood, or fire, if it feels like it. You’ve never watched your brother get turned into a fish. It sounds funny, until it never turns back into your brother. Is he still in there? Can he hear you? How can you know? And in a week he’s belly up in the bowl, and you still have no idea why it happened. “
His lip raised in a sneer. “To be entirely honest, Trixie, I couldn’t care less what you think about us. You ponies have been spoiled by peace and opportunity. Your personal problems are your own fault, and if it wasn’t for my generosity, you’d still be peddling your little vaudeville amongst the plebian rabble of this country for scraps and wooden bits.”
Now it was Trixie’s turn to smile, and she put on her best performer’s grin. She rolled her shoulders just so, and her cape caught the breeze, billowing out around her. “My my, someone seems a little touchy. Trixie feels very sorry for you, but Trixie cannot help but feel you’re being slightly…rude.”
With that last word, she raised her nose high in the air, refusing to look at him. “Apologize to the Great and Powerful Trixie, and she might still cast your little spell for you.”
The sneer disappeared from his face, and the Dirge bowed. “Of course, Great and Powerful Trixie. I apologize.”
Trixie’s grin grew even wider, and she deigned to look at him with a single eye. “Oooh, manners. Trixie is impressed.”
She wasn’t sure how he got so close so quickly, but in less than a moment he was standing right in front of her, holding a several tattered pages in one hand. His eyes, normally an unremarkable brown, were solid black, and she could count stars in them.
“Then cast the spell.”
Trixie said nothing, but gently grabbed the pages with her Telekinesis, letting them hover in front of her face while she perused them.
“It says this must be cast on a…battlefield.”
Dirge nodded. “This is one of the oldest.”
“And it must be cast where the sun casts no shadows?”
“A metaphor. Celestia has wrapped the world in a protective cocoon, but here, at the heart of what was once the proudest city of Men, her power is weakest. You will be able to cast it.”
Trixie tapped one forehoof on her chin. “And this, the…soul of a hero? This is necromancy.” she wrinkled her nose in distaste. “What kind of spell is this? I’ve read magic penned by both Princesses, Unicorns of every school, and even one by Leorial the Pegasus. This is almost completely different. I can’t even tell what it will do.”
Dirge smiled. “That is because it is my spell – or, rather, the spell of Tebryn the Archmage, who is also me. Celestia burned every copy of it she found, but of course, what you hold is not actually paper.” he said. Trixie checked the pages; they smoked gently at the edges, like mist.
“It is called the Contest of Heroes. And worry not, I have the soul of a hero. Several, actually. Now, how to do this…”
“Mmm.” Trixie said, less than enthused. “Left, I suppose.”
His left hand extended theatrically, holding a tricorn hat. “An excellent choice, mademoiselle. This soul has been just dying to get out of here anyway.”
Trixie picked up the hat, and set it at her feet, and returned to perusing the arcane formula put out in front of her.
The Dirge just smiled.
“But…wait. You’re saying that every dead hero from the entire history of Equestria is going to start walking around and destroying everything? Princess, that doesn’t make any sense!”
Celestia shook her head gently. She and Twilight were currently sitting on two plush cushions on the balcony outside her personal chambers, watching the sun set over Canterlot, and in the distance, the Everfree Forest.
“Not every dead hero. And not every hero. And some will come from before the history of Equestria. I know that it seems strange, Twilight, even impossible, but you must understand that Tebryn was a most gifted student of magic. Somepony has cast his spell. A familiar darkness grows in the Everfree. I can feel it.”
Celestia stared hard at great forest. It was motionless, all green and black, and shadow.
“…soul, clap it’s hands and sing, and louder sing…”
Twilight bit her lip. “Princess…I’ve studied every form of magic there is, and there isn’t any kind that could do what you’re talking about. You cannot call upon spirits you don’t know about.” Twilight said, pointing with her hoof for emphasis. “It would be like trying to teleport somewhere you haven’t been before, or remembering something you’d never learned. You’d have to be some kind of crazy history buff to cast a spell like this.”
The Princess nodded, adjusting her posture to better catch the evening breeze. “You are correct, my faithful student. But when wizards become great, they look at the rules of magic as obstacles to overcome, not guidelines to follow. And, as I have said, Tebryn was gifted. He knew he could not remember the heroic dead, but he knew of something else that did remember them. Equestria itself.”
Twilight’s mouth opened slightly. “I… what?”
Celestia smiled apologetically, then looked away. “I’m afraid I must ask your forgiveness, Twilight. I… there is a particular form of magic that you have not learned. A piece of magic, rather. Luna and I have kept it hidden since the humans died out almost a millennium ago. Kept forbidden to every mage, and hid as best we could. Magic the human mages perfected, and used to keep Discord at bay.”
Twilight blinked, looking left and right, and finally down at her hooves. A few moments passed before she managed to look back at her teacher.
“It… sounds like it was pretty dangerous then.”
Celestia’s expression was pained. “I did not keep it from you out of lack of trust, Twilight, or lack of faith in you. Such magic has never brought anything but the worst kind of trouble, tempting everyone it touches to the most egregious excess, tempting them to think that there is truly no limit to their power. Luna and I hoped to keep it hidden forever. This spell, Tebryn’s Contest, is an example of the horrific things it is capable of. But you are the Element of Magic, so I suppose in some way…no. In every way, this is appropriate. “
Celestia shook her mane, and looked around the balcony. She spotted a dead twig, perhaps brought to the balcony by an errant breeze, or a left there by a careless gardener tending her plants. She picked it up gingerly, wrapping it in the golden glow of her telekinesis, and held it aloft in front of them. Perhaps out of a certain amount of anxiety, she felt herself slipping into her Teacher role yet again.
“What is the first limitation of magic?”
Twilight thought for a moment, before giving what she thought the most appropriate answer. “A wizard cannot create life.” she said. It was true, and traditionally taught as the most important limitation on magic.
Celestia nodded, letting the telekinetically-grasped twig twist slightly in the breeze. “Correct. Even earth ponies cannot quicken any material – only seeds, roots and such things, not the plain mud beneath their hooves. But…”
Celestia concentrated. The glow around the twig intensified, the golden sun-color darkening to a deep honey. It shone for a moment, and then sprouted leaves, and soon after buds which burst into pink peach blossoms.
Twilight’s eyes goggled.
“The twig is dead, but it was not always so. In the Age of Chaos, Humanity found that when Discord corrupted the earth, it remembered what it was before it was twisted, and with a little prodding, could even be reminded of it.”
Twilight was silent. A million questions ran through her mind, but she found she couldn’t quite articulate a single one of them, and instead turned her gaze towards the Everfree Forest. “I…see. So, if that magic can do all that…what happens now?”
The stars above her were wheeling in place, as though days, then months, then years were passing in quick succession, turning from pinpricks int he sky into vast circles of starlight. Her chanting had grown louder since she began, beginning to shake the very desert, but the louder she spoke, the less she heard. The black sky above her began to run together with the black sand in the distance, until she could no longer tell the two apart, and she felt the sudden, immense pressure of an immeasurable blackness. Through sheer will, she forced the words of the spell from between her teeth.
“Consume my heart away! Sick with desire, and fastened to a dying animal, it knows not what it is,”
The foundations of the world quaked. A thousand images of fire and death assaulted her mind, and the dull, chilling sensation of falling through an endless, fathomless dark.
“Gather me, into the artifice of Eternity.”
Celestia stood, fluffing her wings just slightly, and turned to walk back inside her room. “Two locations will be chosen to host the spirits. Then, they will then be divided in two opposing teams. Whichever team’s location is destroyed first, loses.”
Twilight scrambled to her feet, trotting neatly behind the princess. “It’s a game? The spell that does all that is just for a game?”
“To those that are victorious,” Celestia quoted, “They shall be granted a single wish, and the spirit of the world shall grant it.” She sighed, pacing around her room. “He was so foolish. The only remaining step is for the heroes to be chosen. I’d say we have a few days.”
Twilight stopped, mouth agape. “A few days?! That’s not enough time!”
“It isn’t. There’s never enough time.” Celestia stopped pacing. “I need to organize the royal guard, speak to the Minister of State about the disruption this is going to cause, speak to the emergency weather team regarding evacuations…and of course, I need to appoint a minister of defense.” she muttered.
Celestia looked at Twilight guiltily. “Twilight, I hate to say this, but…if it comes to conflict, I cannot help you in this.” She raised a hoof, stopping Twilight before she began. “ I am bound not to interfere directly with the contest. I am the deity of this world, not a hero. Any action I take will be undone by the power of Tebryn’s Contest. I could break the spell, but breaking the spell now would near break the world. And…I will need you to help, if it comes to conflict. I am certain the spell will choose you as one of the heroes of Equestria.”
She raised a hoof before Twilight could speak. “Talk with Luna first. This is something you must seriously think about, Twilight.”
Twilight paused for a moment, then nodded. “Alright, Princess. I will. But, um. Why Luna?”
“The last time this spell was cast, Luna was chosen as our champion.”
Trixie fell to her knees, panting, and with wide eyes looked up at the canopy of trees above. No stars; only the nearly-black green that made up most of the foliage of the Everfree. She turned to look at Dirge, noting that the man was indeed still there, and looked far too pleased.
“Most excellent, O Great and Powerful Trixie.” he said, taking slow, deliberate steps towards her. “All that is left, I believe, is the small matter of your…reward.”
His eyes were the black sky, filled with stars. His smile split his face in two, with row upon row of feral, animal teeth.
The moon of Equestria is not uniformly barren, but a desert. And like a desert, it has its wastes, and its oases.
There is in one oases a shrine, built of basalt and moonstone and lapis, framed with slender, silver trees and adorned with gold flowers and pale blue ivy creeping up the walls. A black statue rests there, of a black pony, with slitted eyes and a narrow muzzle, and a fiery mane that is frozen in stone.
The Everfree called. With a sound like thunder, the stone cracked in two, and a single starlight-shod hoof stepped onto the moon’s surface, kicking up dust.
“THE NIGHT”
Another hoof joined it, and the creature bucked. The solid stone pedestal it had rested on shattered like glass.
“WILL LAST”
The creature called, and the blue, frozen fire answered, caressing her form gently before exploding outward, leveling the shrine with the force of a bomb, and shredding every shrub and every living thing in the clearing, leaving only a crater.
“FOREVER !”
