The Price For Luna

by PoweredByTea

Rating: everyone
Tags: Adventure, Twilight Sparkle, Princess Celestia, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 26098

A view of the summer sun celebration from Celestia's perspective.

The Summer Solstice approaches and Equestria prepares for the welcome break, but in Canterlot Celestia plans in secret for the return of Nightmare Moon. Her duty is clear: take the five known Elements of Harmony and cast her own sister from the world forever. So what if her heart shatters into a million pieces? A fair price for the safety of all.

Yet as the hour approaches, Celestia’s resolve weakens as she is haunted by memories of happier times. She starts to entertain an insane, maybe treasonous, plan, but a plan that might just return her sister to her.

But no plan, however well thought out, ever survives execution and as matters spiral out of control strengths sequestered deep within others will surprise even the celestial princess herself. As you well know, this story has a happy ending but it is the journey that matters.

Many thanks to GhostOfHeraclitus and Bradel for prereading above and beyond the call of duty. Seriously it would not exist without their patience.

Vectors used in cover: 1 2

Published 2018-01-28 18:10:06 UTC
Last updated 2018-02-14 21:34:16 UTC

Part 2 – The Dragon Inanna

It was early evening. The world was beginning to take a subtle orange tint that in a few hours’ time would crescendo into a glorious sunset. Leaves of the oak trees rustled in the light breezes. The air had cooled, but the dry earth still held onto the sweltering summer heat, and a winged silhouette dropped down, down, and down until it was lost in the great expanse of primeval forest.

☼ ☼ ☼

Wings flared and ready, Celestia peered around boulder. Different, instincts surfaced in her, as different as this forest was from Canterlot. She was pleased that the day she forget them entirely had not yet come.

The subject of her attention was a gaping maw that opened out of the base of a limestone cliff face. It was fifty times her wingspan yet somehow the thick canopy still hid it from the air. The owner liked it that way.

Celestia sniffed the air. As always, there was hint of ash and smoke on the breeze. Carefully, she stepped out from behind the boulder, not completely furling her wings and remaining ready to bolt. She made her steps as forceful as she could on the approach and kicked a few rocks about for good measure. Once at the mouth she was careful to silhouette herself as plainly as possible. It was never good to inadvertently sneak up on a dragon.

Somewhere in the gloom a hazy, indistinct outline shifted. A draft ruffled Celestia’s feathers and small rocks and pebbles strewn across the ground tumbled into the cave. She counted to thirty. Inanna the Dragon, it seemed, had just awoken and taken a single breath.

“Celestia,” a raspy voice echoed up from the depths. Despite being felt as much as heard, it was weak and resigned. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

Inanna the Dragon was old, perhaps older than any other creature of this world still drawing breath. Celestia’s eyes had seen the world of spirits diminish, the scattering of the wolves, and the beginnings of civilisation, but those eyes had been around for so much longer. Before them, forests had sprouted from plains and valleys had been carved by ice. If Inanna could be believed, she had seen the very first light, when the world itself was hot and young.

Inanna was old, but even she was not immortal.

“I’ve been searching for the final sleep,” the rumbling voice bubbled up. “I have done all the talking I wish to do in one lifetime. Let me be.”

Blinking away dancing after-images of the bright outdoors, Celestia took a few careful steps into the gloom. Her eyesight, sufficient to count the petals of a dandelion across a field on a bright day, had never been good in darkness and at night she felt all but blind. Still, she was eventually able to pick out the rough details.

If Celestia hadn’t changed, then nor had the cave. Unlike the old castle, which seemed just a little bit more ruined and forgotten every time she visited, this place was exactly as she had last seen it. The same pyramid of the same riches dominated the centre of the cavern about which the same massive mother-of-dragons lay curled. If occurred to Celestia that even Inanna’s posture hasn't changed.

“Inanna,” Celestia called, still approaching. The dragon had no title, although many had tried to give her one. Celestia doubted that Inanna even understood the concept.

A single eye opened. “Oh fine,” Inanna said, “I see you are not going to go away. Tell me, how long?”

Celestia thought back and replied. It had been a while.

Again, Inanna exhaled. “How the time flies, and yet drags so.”

Celestia’s eyes dropped to the floor. She and the dragon had never been friends, exactly, usually quite the opposite, but she couldn’t feel happy about seeing her in this state.

“How long?” she asked in turn.

“A few decades, maybe,” the dragon replied. “Not a century. You should be happy, I expect.”

Accompanied by the tinkling of little avalanches of treasure, Inanna adjusted her head. The one yellowed eye she had open was the size of Celestia with wings retracted. The rest of Inanna’s body remained so still it might as well have been part of the rock. “No? Not going to tell me that you actually are so sorry to hear that?”

Celestia’s lips had been parted in readiness to speak but she could force no words, of either sympathy or condemnation, through them. A hint of amusement flashed in Inanna’s eyes, just for a moment.

“I came here with questions,” Celestia said, trying to regain the initiative, but Inanna interrupted.

“You changed everything, you know. You and Luna both,” she sounded wistful. “Equestria, in all its various forms, was only the least of what you did. The world was once such a simple place. Some years I long for the world where you ponies were still the insignificant little creatures who spent the time between their sleeps eating grass.”

“Equestria was the dream of ponykind,” She was unable to keep a measure of pride from her voice. “It is older than I.”

Inanna seemed to have no answer. Her snout came to rest on her pile, setting off more avalanches. “Perhaps I feel like talking. The animals make for poor listeners—whatever it is you need to ask,” the dragon seemed react to something in Celestia's expression, “they'll be time for that later.”

Celestia felt like grinding her teeth together, but this was how it always was. Inanna would talk and Celestia would learn a little titbit here and there. She often wondered if behind those eyes, Inanna carefully planned which little fragments of lore she doled out as insurance that Celestia would return. It was hard to say. All she could say for sure was that it had been a very long time since Inanna had last tried to eat her and the world had changed immeasurably since then. Small mercies.

So she found a spot by the cave wall to sit and folded her wings. Perhaps there wouldn't be any harm in taking a little time to sort her thoughts out? For a time, then, she would indulge the dragon.

☼ ☼ ☼

Celestia listened with only half an ear. To pass the time, she levitated two dozen or so fallen branches that lay scattered about the forest floor just outside the cave and arranged them into a pile. Her horn lit briefly and the fuel ignited; the young flames dancing up to guard her against the coming darkness. The scent of the woodsmoke was steeped with memory. It was a very old, very familiar, source of comfort to her. Older, even, than the even sun and everything else that had come of it.

It was easy—much easier than was commonly supposed—for her to lose herself in the noise and constant movement of her ponies until past and future faded away against the vibrancy of the now. Here, underneath the primeval forest, where the limestone stalactites grew at their stately, measured pace, the now faded and mixed a little with the then.

Beside her, brought alive once more in the smell of the woodsmoke, Luna was taking her customary place by the fire. She had picked a spot just out of sight, but Celestia didn’t turn her head to look. On evenings such as these, they often talked in circles about visiting the places beyond the hills, but for now Luna seemed content to remain silent.

In another time, Inanna droned on.

Luna would be watching the fire a bit distrustfully. She always did. She had never liked fires; they were dangerous and attracted enemies. They had argued about it over and over again. Luna had a point. The smoke and light would signal their position to everything within miles. It was with that same sense of cautious realism that Luna had accomplished amazing things.

But that way was not Celestia’s way. Light the fire. Believe things could be better. Lift your head up from the dirt because the world was a beautiful, wonderful place, and even if you never made it past foalhood, then at least make sure you had lived that foalhood.

Her eyes had become wet. What had happened to that Celestia?

“Three males came, runts, to take my mountain from me,” Inanna continued, not seeming to care if her companion was listening. “They were actually working together.”

Celestia smiled sadly into the fire. Would she one day become like Inanna? Content to sit and talk about the same topics over and over. She felt a shred of... kinship, that was getting harder to deny. Within her existed a certain part, growing unnoticed between the nows, the was like an unpleasant lump in her throat. With every passing year she slowly, but inevitably, became less and less like the ponies she surrounded herself and more like... what? Where was she headed, in the fullness of time?

Celestia, for her part, listened with half an ear, lost in her own past. She spoke only a few times when the dragon recounted some rare moment in their respective histories where their fates had intertwined. At last, the time came when Celestia had to pause to bring forth the night.

“I think this is the right time,” Celestia remarked as she returned. Once again she was struck by how little Inanna had moved. “I came without a mechanical timepiece.” That had been a mistake, but she hadn’t been thinking straight when she’d left the palace. “My ponies do tend to worry when the cycle gets disrupted. It’s always a bother.”

“Let them worry,” Inanna replied. “We both know regular sunrises and sunsets are hardly the natural order.”

“They think they are, you know,” Celestia said. “One can hardly blame them, really. It’s been that way for so long.”

The dagon paused a moment. “Mechanical what?”

“They measure the passage of time,” Celestia explained. “So you can tell how many hours have passed. Wonderful devices.”

Inanna considered this new information as Celestia left.

“How do they know?”

☼ ☼ ☼

Celestia stared out past the tops of the trees into the darkening sky and the moon she had just lifted above the horizon. It was getting chilly, the summer's day was spent. She was delaying, even now. But as long as Celestia delayed she could still imagine there might be some way for everything could work out. For just a little longer, that was possible.

When she returned to the cave, Inanna seemed to sense the change in Celestia's resolve. “What is it that you wish to know, Celestia? Make it quick. My eyes have grown tired again.”

Celestia hesitated. Let it be possible for just a moment longer. “You once told me about a sixth Element of Harmony and how it could bring back Luna?”

“What of it?” Inanna said, yawning. The draft caused rustling of the branches outside the cave to rustle. “Oh, I see. Luna is returning soon then. In which case, I will give you your answer. Nothing has changed,” Inanna said, dashing Celestia’s weak hope. “Yes, there is a sixth Element of Harmony. I have seen it wielded three times long ago, but it has not been seen since. It’s virtue is companionship but requires an exceptional grasp of magic to use. The five elements you hold are fine virtues but without the sixth, without companionship, you will not reach out to Luna. And by its very nature, you will never find the sixth alone, so, no, nothing has changed.”

“But if I trust the five to others…” And here was the problem. If the ponies she trusted failed, or the Elements somehow didn’t take… what would the endless night do to Equestria? Figures flashed through her mind. Silo capacities. Consumption figures. Hunger amongst ponies who've never seen it. Her best shot at defeating the creature would have been squandered and with it any chance of a mere second banishment. Her one option left would be to take up arms against Luna and to…

And to…

“Nothing?” She felt herself filling with impotent anger. “You must know something. This isn't the time for keeping it back any longer. Name your price.”

“Price?” Inanna chuckled softly, shifting her head slightly in the direction of the mountain of gold that was even bigger than she was. “I am not lying and you know that. You cannot plan to both fight your sister and save her.”

Celestia shut her eyes, defeated. Maybe she would get another chance. Maybe in another thousand years she would find a chance that was real. “How do I find the strength to do what is right?”

“Now that's a poor question to come asking me,” came the unasked for reply.

Insufferable dragon. Why had she thought coming here would help?

“This isn't…” she forced down a sudden, angry lump, “This isn't how things were supposed to be.”

Inanna tilted her head, questioningly, stoking Celestia's indignation further. “I—surely I am owed some fairness? At long last? After all this time? What else am I meant to give up? What else am I meant to give? We were supposed to face eternity together.”

For the first time, Inanna had lifted her neck fully up from the treasure was studying her intently. Her expression was like a lock that had just snapped open.

“You did love Luna didn’t you?” The dragon leaned forward, tilting her head to one side, until one massive eye was just mere neck lengths from Celestia. “What an interesting development.”

“What did you just say?”

“There are those who say what you did proves that you didn’t,” the eye withdrew as Inanna settled back into a neutral pose. After a moment, she began to grin. “I see now that isn’t the case.”

“Then there is a way?” Celestia said, suddenly hopeful.

“Yes, yes there is,” Inanna said. “And since I never liked you, Celestia, I’m going to tell you it. And it will destroy you.”

“What do you mean by that?” Celestia demanded.

“Only that I’m going to tell you the truth. If you heed it, it will destroy you. If you do not, you lose Luna.” The dragon regarded her coolly. “And perhaps that might destroy you also.”

Celestia studied the dragon, though the lizard’s expression was nearly unreadable. “Tell me.”

Inanna smirked, teeth the size of small trees poking through the sides of her mouth. Somehow, it made Celestia shudder. “No secret magic. No unlooked for miracles. If you want your sister back, you will have to earn her back.

“Celestia of the Three River Valley Herd, why did you really come here?” asked the dragon. “I am a selfish, hateful creature. The vast riches you see before you were paid in tribute out of fear or simply stolen. Was it really so that I could tell you to be strong and do the right thing? Or that I would turn out to be hiding some new secret?”

“But…”

“Tell me, then, Celestia, the very pinnacle of virtue, how much is your sister worth to you?”

“I—what kind of a question is that?”

“The most important kind. Tell me, what is Luna worth?”

“There isn’t a single thing I wouldn’t give up to have her back,” Celestia replied.

Inanna let out a sigh. “That isn’t what I asked. Would you lie? Deceive a pony? Would you needlessly risk another pony’s life? Two?” The smirk returned. “Six?”

Celestia looked down at her hooves.

“Really now, you have to think? Luna isn’t even worth a blemished conscience to you?” Inanna said. “What about the life of a student you might be a little bit fond of? Is Luna worth that?”

Celestia looked up sharply.

“Oh yes, the magpies are quite happy to bring me news from time to time. They visit more than you do. So, you have an extremely magically gifted student...”

The swirling storm of purple wind whipped around, leaving chaos in its wake. In its calm centre, Celestia placed a hoof on the filly’s shoulder. The filly turned to Celestia, in her eyes: nothing but trust.

“…how convenient.”

“Twilight came into my care though simple chance,” Celestia asserted.

“I wonder if you know of any other potential bearers?”

The secretary placed the pink, balloon covered envelope on her desk. It was addressed to “Sky” and would contain more news of the ponies of Ponyville. Her contact’s knowledge of the ponies of Ponyville was virtually encyclopaedic, if a little erratic.

Luna was dead. There was no hope. She wasn't really going to do what she had planned with her Advisors to do. There was hope. In the last hour she would discover something, anything, that would make the insane plan work. They were important lies.

“I do.” There wasn’t really any use denying it. “I’ve been keeping an eye out. I’m sure of some. One. Perhaps. Others, I don’t know.”

This time, Inanna didn’t smirk, she outright bellowed with laughter.

“What you came to me to hear, Celestia, is for me to tell you to stop being the oh-so-pure and self sacrificing princess and take the idiot’s chance on a forgotten scrap of magic and in doing so be reckless with the lives of ponies who trust you to do nothing but look out for them. That is what you came to hear. No matter what you might tell yourself, that is what you were always going to do. So tell me, is Luna worth that?”

Celestia tried to glare at the dragon, but her eyes dropped to the ground as her shoulders and wings drooped. Inanna’s smirk never faded.

“Come now,” and oddly Inanna’s voice sounded motherly, almost. “It’s not so bad. Take this from a dragon whose body has fully half turned to gemstone and from a mother who has carried the bones of all of her children back to Anu. Take the second chance you have been given, or you will die regretting it.”

Celestia stared at Inanna, focused on really looking despite the gloom. The dragon's body was still, too still, and her scales gimmered in the darkness too much. Inanna's tail, one wing, some of her belly, a leg… they were no longer made of anything living but instead, a gemstone of uncertain type. How did dragons die of old age? Had it ever happened before?

Celestia stood up shakily. She turned to leave, but as she reached the mouth of the cave she was stopped by a soft chuckling.

“Welcome,” Inanna’s voice echoed out, “to the fellowship of souls who are not perfect paragons of virtue. You will be wiser for it.”

Celestia snapped her head back angrily, but the dragon simply looked smug.

“Take heart,” Inanna added. “A sister is a far higher prize than any quantity of useless gold and gems.”

Without bothering to answer, Celestia kicked off into the air. She didn’t fly far, landing in a nearby clearing. The moon still hung high in the sky, the image of a head there as always. She usually hated looking at it, but tonight was different. She needed to think. The sensation of seeing that unlikely pane of glass still reverberated in her mind. Could it be that this was the path she was meant to follow?

Luna had returned. Celestia could feel her standing right beside her, once again just out of sight. She came to a decision. How selfish had it been for her to value her clean conscience so? If that was the price of Luna...

“I’m coming sister,” Celestia breathed, without turning her head. “I’m coming.”

Author's Note

The very talented NadnerbD did an Amazing Illustration for this chapter.

Part 3 – Every Last Thing

When Celestia finally alighted on the eastern balcony, the mood in the Hall of Dawn and Dusk was, predictably, something that might charitably be called organised panic. Her approach must have been spotted, because groups of worried looking ponies were already shuffling in.

Her golden shoes, freshly recovered along with the rest of her regalia, clicked down on marble floor and she allowed her momentum to carry her smoothly over to the centre of the room where the sandglasses sat.

“Auspex?” she said.

“Um,” the Auspex replied, fumbling slightly. It was still Fern. He was probably doing the early morning shifts all this week. “An hour, twenty three minutes to sunrise.”

“Good,” Celestia said, finishing an exaggerated inspection of this cycle’s sandglass and at last looking at the assembled mass of ponies as if seeing them for the first time. “Not meaning to pry, but I would have thought many of you would be at home, asleep, by now?”

Reassuring her staff sufficiently that they went home was not that simple, but it wasn't too difficult either. Most didn't know what was coming in nine days' time. Of course, those who did were harder to placate.

“Your Highness,” Quill said, bowing his head as he and Captain Whiskey approached. He hid it well, but Celestia could see real anxiety. “We need to talk about…” He glanced about the Hall. Ponies were filing out in ones and twos. “But perhaps not here.”

Celestia suppressed a grimace. “How widely are things known?”

“Don’t worry, we swore everypony to secrecy,” Whiskey said, and Celestia relaxed a little internally. “Didn’t want a panic starting.”

“Quite,” added Quill. “That was one point the Captain and I were able to agree on.”

With a gesture of the wing, Celestia lead them out onto the empty eastern balcony where they would be able to speak more freely.

“Dunno how long its going to last though,” Whiskey said as they stepped out into the cool night air. “I gave the guard their marching orders. Observers have been stationed. We're on schedule. In fact…”

This was the moment, the moment where she would put her desires above those of Equestria. It was a betrayal, a betrayal of her subjects and everything she and Luna had worked to build.

A glance up at the sky was enough. The moon was not visible from the east balcony at this time, but she knew the sight of it well enough.

“There will be no battle between myself and Nightmare Moon.” She dropped the statement like a fallen star.

“What!” Whiskey's exclaimed through the empty streets of pre-dawn Canterlot. Quill did little better, although his should wasn't quite so loud.

“Well, I’m all for fighting battles that never happen…” Whiskey remarked carefully.

“Is this wise, your Majesty?”

Celestia ignored them. “Quill, if you could take down an agenda for a meeting this afternoon? Same attendees as yesterday.”

Quill nodded, horn glowing as he summoned his writing materials.

“Firstly, I’m moving the Summer Sun Celebration to Ponyvilie. The mayor of Manehatten isn’t going to like that, and I’m going to need a pony to keep her occupied with excuses. Next, I’m going to need a company of guards equipped to escort civilians into the deep Everfree...”

The eyes of two of her most loyal subjects slowly widened as the list grew. When she was done, both seemed to be having trouble finding their voices. Then, remembering the hour, she ordered them to sleep.

☼ ☼ ☼

Celestia's mouth opened wide into a deep yawn of its own accord as she made her way into the Gardens. She should have followed her own orders and gone sleep the moment the sun was in the sky. She would, just after Twilight’s lesson. She could have cancelled it, and had been sorely tempted to do so. Her wings were leaden, she hadn’t slept for a full day-night cycle, and she felt drained from her conversation with Inanna. But some stubborn part of her refused to allow her to, and so here she was, dragging herself to the gardens where the lesson was scheduled.

The irony was not lost on her that it had been Twilight who had arrived tired and yawning only a day ago.

The Gardens were Celestia’s favourite place in the entire palace. She sometimes came here on those rare occasions when she still felt homesick, though the perfectly trimmed hedges and carefully tended rows of flowers weren’t the way they should be. Philomena would be about somewhere. She wondered if Philomena was happy here, or if the Phoenix thought of home too.

She found Twilight lying on the turfed top of the eastern wall. It was a lovely spot, framed by the canopies of two trees that had grown up the sides of the inner wall, with a view that spanned over Canterlot to the mile upon mile of fields and hedgerows beyond. Twilight herself was watching the sunrise, smiling faintly. Beside her, a firefly lamp, flask, and book lay forgotten.

Celestia silently climbed the gently sloping stairway and took her place at her student’s side. Some of her mane must have drifted into Twilight’s peripheral vision because Twilight turned to face her, smile expanding.

“Princess Celestia!”

She couldn't help but smile back and like yesterday morning after her troubled dream, she felt her worries recede a little. They would be back, but for now she forced down tiredness. She would be the impish and carefree princess for Twilight, even if she didn’t feel like it today.

“Good morning Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia said, leaning over to have a nose at the battered and yellowed paperback Twilight had been reading. It looked to have been reread so many times the cover was in danger of falling off. Surprisingly, Twilight quickly moved to hide the book, as if embarrassed over the contents.

“Twilight, there’s no shame in enjoying a good adventure from time to time,” Celestia said. She hadn’t had time to read any herself, but she understood that the Daring Do series had been a Canterlot-wide sensation with the young ponies a few years back.

“I know, Princess, sorry,” Twilight said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Celestia said. “Still feeling down over teleportation?”

“I just don’t see how I’m supposed to learn it,” Twilight admitted. “The study notes don’t seem to help, and Blink herself makes no sense!” Her student’s tone became frustrated, angry even. “I mean, she doesn’t use proper sentence structure, she changes tense at random, she leaves thoughts half finished, and I swear there’s a bit where she suddenly decides that semicolons are the best thing since sliced bread or something, because she starts using them all over the place.”

Twilight paused. “Twenty nine semicolons. In two pages. Twenty nine. I counted. Only one was used correctly, I think by accident.” The unicorn deflated, her scholarly indignation subsiding for the moment. “What kind of pony writes like that?”

“A great one,” Celestia answered, simply. “A hero to many who lived in her time.”

“Oh,” Twilight said, head sinking down into her neck. “I forgot, you knew Blink personally, didn’t you? Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia said, “I think that there is a lesson here for you. It is a fine thing that you are as learned as you are, but that does not mean you should use that as an excuse to look down on another because of it.”

Twilight’s ears drooped. “Then I suppose trying to translate Blink’s account into proper sentences wasn’t the way to go?”

“Correct,” Celestia said. “Because unlike the magic of more eloquent unicorns you have studied, the way that Blink said the things she said are perhaps more important than what she actually said. Those words, including the errors, are your best link to Blink—who you must never forget was a living unicorn, I might add, not just a page in a spellbook.”

Twilight simply slumped down, so Celestia continued. “In many ways, it wasn’t fair of me to start you on Blink. We can put together a list of other unconventional unicorns for you to study—you can work up to Blink. But I’m afraid that’s going to have to wait a few weeks.”

“Princess?” Twilight said, glancing over questioningly.

Celestia glanced down at her hooves. “I’m afraid something has come up that is going to demand my full attention.”

“Oh. Can I help with anything?”

“I—” Celestia’s put-on smile became a little sickly. Oh. There were her worries. Welcome back, you weren't gone long were you? “It is just a matter from my own past, a thousand years ago,” she explained, attempting to sound dismissive. “Nothing to worry about. If I think of any help I need, I will certainly let you know,” she hastily added when she noticed Twilight frowning.

Technically the truth, but Inanna’s laughter still echoed again in her head. Twilight. She was going to use Twilight to buy back Luna. Not a guardspony who had sworn loyalty. A filly who trusted her to teach magic. And she was sitting right there.

Could she really do this? The question hung unanswered in her mind.

“In any case,” she added hastily. “Why don’t you think of this as an opportunity? Take a few days’ break, or perhaps study something a little different for a change?”

“I understand completely, Princess,” Twilight said, not managing to mask her disappointment well enough.

Celestia bit her lip. “Actually,” she began, “I had no plans until this afternoon—” you’re going to regret this, Celestia, when you fall on your face asleep in front of your staff “—why don’t we make this an extra long lesson?”

Part 3 – Every Last Thing

“Nightmare Moon, an Anthology of Legends?” the grey haired mare said from behind a pair of thick reading glasses. “Actually, deary, you missed it by minutes. It was just checked out by a nice young mare. Literally just a few minutes ago. Fancy that! Funny old world. First checkout in three years on that book too. Would you like me to put it on reserve?”

Quill had to try very hard to avoid grinding his teeth together. “Nevermind. I need anything else you have on the same subject, and ‘The Collected Writings of Elm, Volume II: The Elements of Harmony.’”

☼ ☼ ☼

Towering mountains of white drifted past, their apparent lazy pace being an illusion created by their sheer size.

“Sky” banked hard into a canyon formed between two massive culmulous clouds and begun her descent down to Ponyville, her wings screaming in protest throughout. “Sky” ignored them and tried to press a little harder. She needed to know how fast she could make this trip.

“Sky” was, of course, a disguise, and a rather good one if Celestia did say so herself. She’d given herself the form of a white coated pegasus with a mane of various shades of blue. It was a shape she’d used before. The name she’d picked, “Sky”, was roughly what “Celestia” meant when translated into Modern Equestrian. So much pomp and consequence had been piled onto her poor four-syllable “Celestia”, it felt refreshing to be called by something so free and simple.

The shapeshifting spell, while certainly limited in some respects, was a good deal more complicated than a simple illusion; while it was in effect she actually was a pegasus. That did mean her magic was inaccessible, but the spell could be cancelled by simply clicking her forehooves together three times.

The spell had limitations: it could not add a horn or wings where none had been before and, of course, it could not change the Mark or eyes of a pony. No unicorn magic in existence that could change those. Often, other traits remained unchanged without any apparent pattern. In Celestia’s case, she didn’t seem able to assume a form where her mane didn’t drop over one eye.

They had been a time when she’d been able to locate her sister from miles away by the feel of her magic alone, and Luna could locate her likewise. It was an instinctive bond they shared. It had been a source of comfort, once, now it was a liability. When the time came, she might have to use this form to hide her magic.

“Hey there!” Came a voice to Celestia’s left. She glanced over to see a sky-blue pegasus mare with a distinctive rainbow mane flying right beside her. Most aggravatingly, the pegasus seemed to be matching Celestia’s speed effortlessly. Judging by the many-coloured mane, this must be Rainbow Dash, head of the Ponyville weather team. Ticklish under her wings and fond of chocolate mousse, apparently. A good friend too, although her informant said that about literally everypony.

Unfortunately, not what she was looking for either. Correspondence with the Mayor had revealed that Rainbow Dash had a reputation for laziness and a tendency to be caught napping whenever there was any hard work to be done.

“Oh, are we racing?” The other pegasus shouted over gleefully as Celestia gritted her teeth and willed more speed from her wings. Ponyville couldn’t be more than a minute away, she might as well sprint to the finish.

☼ ☼ ☼

“Okay, I admit, that was pretty fast. Still beat ya!”

Celestia stared glassily out into the street where she had alighted, sucking in all the air her lungs could take. Check the time. Mechanically, she reached down and flipped open the small timepiece strapped above her fetlock. Nineteen minutes. If pressed, she could make it from Canterlot to Ponyville in nineteen minutes. Good to know. Extremely respectable time too, given she had been living a sedentary life for all of ponykind’s living memory.

“Hey, what’s your name, anyways?”

The other pegasus was still beside her, not even winded. That seemed incredibly unfair.

“Sky,” she managed. She had to pant a few more times before adding: “You can call me Sky.”

“Well I’m Rainbow Dash, pleased to meet you,” the pegasus said, beating her chest with a forehoof. For some reason, she had elected to remain hovering instead of landing.

“Hey!” Rainbow Dash dove forward to examine “Sky’s” rump. “Your cutie mark looks just like Princess Celestia’s!”

Thankfully, Celestia knew more tricks than just the magical ones.

“Oh, I get that a lot,” she said, shooing Rainbow Dash out of her personal space. “Can you spot the difference?”

Rainbow Dash frowned, assuming a more upright position.

“Oh, I see!” she said happily. “Celestia’s cutie mark has way more wavy lines coming out of it. Yours only has eight. And the colours are wrong.”

“Well done,” Celestia said, giving the pegasus a little smile. “Now, I’m afraid I cannot stay and talk as there are some ponies who are expecting me.”

“Have fun, but don’t be a stranger, Sky,” Rainbow Dash said. “There aren’t many pegasuses around here into endurance flying. You seem pretty good for somepony who isn’t me.”

Fortunately, Celestia had already turned to leave, so her reflexive raised eyebrow was hidden from Rainbow Dash. Yes, the pegasus really had said that last bit without a hint of irony.

So, that had been the weatherpony then? Oddly, she found she had taken a liking to Rainbow. Possibly it had been her refreshing directness, though that might be just the disguise bringing that out. But sadly, she had more important things to do than make friends. Such as planning a battle.

☼ ☼ ☼

Thankfully, the hour or so before her guard captain and lieutenants arrived was plenty of time for her to recover her breath. Also thankfully, she managed to avoid that eccentric unicorn who ran a local clothing boutique. It had been a mistake to mention “Sky” was from Canterlot to that one.

She had a little time before the Canterlot train pull up, so she spent it reacquainting herself with the layout of the village, mentally fitting her plans around it. When the train did pull into the station Captain Whiskey and Lieutenants Stonewall and Merryweather stepped off. Whiskey and Stonewall seemed uncomfortable out of uniform, but Merryweather managed to remain relaxed. The two pegasi lieutenants fell into a disciplined step behind their earth pony captain. Out of uniform, they looked ever so slightly ridiculous.

Celestia waved the trio out of the station with a wing and herded them to somewhere they could talk in private. Finding a suitable place was not hard as the buildings here were widely spaced, even towards the centre.

“Gentleponies, the result was nineteen minutes, at the very minimum.” Celestia said. She was pleased to see the two pegasi nod approvingly.

When the creature was freed, the most likely place it would head would be Canterlot. Preparations were already underway to make sure the palace would be clear of nonessential staff and that the few ponies that were around knew to surrender quickly with no heroics.

The Summer Sun Celebration would draw the creature out. It would see an isolated and oblivious Celestia badly out of position with a minimal guard. Ideally, it would decide to strike at Ponyville as soon as possible, but if it didn’t, Celestia would lead her here personally.

“That gives us some flexibility in the timetable,” Whiskey commented. “We decided to put the camp in the Whitetail Woods.”

“There’s a few places where the canopy is thick enough that the ground isn’t visible from the sky,” Stonewall added.

“Place’ll be reachable by missive-fire,” Whiskey said. “They tell me the ley lines are correct and such. I’ve got Shining Armour looking into that right now, since he’s the educated unicorn in our number.”

“Good,” Celestia said. “You two know what to do. I’ll be borrowing Stonewall now.”

“Ma’am!” the captain said, jerking a little as he suppressed a salute. Whiskey and Merryweather then turned and trotted off, looking for all the wide, wide world like a crusty grandsire being looked after by his grown up grandcolt. Stonewall looked wistfully after them, and Celestia suppressed a sigh.

“I don’t bite, lieutenant,” Celestia said. “You can relax.”

One would think a pony with a record like Stonewall’s might be a little braver. A few years back, Stonewall had been first on the scene of an armed robbery in Canterlot that had turned into a hostage situation. Somehow, he had persuaded the thieves to use him as a hostage in place of the shopkeeper and a mother and her foals.

He’d gone above and beyond that which could be reasonably expected from a guardspony, but he had served a higher purpose of the guard—been loyal to that higher purpose: to protect others. She’d said so in her speech as she awarded him his commendation.

Stonewall might very well be her Element of Loyalty.

☼ ☼ ☼

“The stallion behind that apple stall is Big Macintosh,” Celestia said, pointing with a wing. Favourite dessert: rich chocolate truffle layer cake, though he only indulged very occasionally and kept that fact from his family, preferring a simple apple pie most of the time. Her informant’s knowledge of the ponies around Ponyvillie might be unparallelled, but her choices of which details to include which to leave out were often… strange.

Nevertheless, the Mayor had been able to confirm that the Apple Family in Ponyville had a reputation for going about their business in a straightforward and honest manner. Such a reputation would be hard to gain and easy to lose in a small community like Ponyville, so it was extremely encouraging to hear they had kept theirs.

What had sealed her choice had been conversing with the brother and sister pair who did most of the work running the farm—well, mostly conversing the sister, who was the talkative pony of the pair. After so much time spent with politicians, they were so very refreshing that Celestia had briefly fantasised about grabbing Twilight and Spike, and taking a vacation working on an Apple Farm.

“An Apple farmer?” Stonewall said. His tone and expression were unreadable.

Celestia nodded. “It’s likely that the sister, Applejack, will be found on the family farm. Either would be suitable. We can fly over now.”

☼ ☼ ☼

Celestia had been tipped off about her potential bearer of Kindness, once again, by her informant. They’d had to wait until lunchtime, when fillies and colts went on their break, to see her. Cheerilee was the village’s schoolteacher and, inevitably, Celestia had come to know her favourite dessert too. Anything with banoffee, which was apparently a modern thing involving bananas and toffee. She resolved to try some at a later date.

In this case, the Mayor hadn’t been much help; Cheerilee’s record was rather... bland and uninformative. Kindness and bureaucracy seldom mixed, unfortunately.

Instead she had struck up a few conversations as “Sky” under the pretence of thinking about moving to Ponyville. Quite a few parents were happy to share a story or two of the teacher going out of her way to ensure the well being of her charges. It would be enough, it would have to be. Surely the Elements didn’t require grand, public gestures?

“An Apple farmer. And a schoolteacher?” was Stonewall’s only comment.

☼ ☼ ☼

As they made their way back from the schoolhouse, Stonewall looked troubled.

“It’s not my place to say anything,” Stonewall replied, when Celestia asked about it.

“Stonewall, if you have concerns, I want you to voice them.”

Stonewall glanced down at his feet, frowning as his lips moved. “I—what I mean is,” he gulped, “a schoolteacher and an apple farmer, ma’am? I—that is to say—well, um, I just don’t feel very comfortable about this. Ma’am.”

Something in her throat twisted, but she kept her face firmly in control.

“Remember, they will be perfectly safe,” Celestia said as reassuringly as she could. Twinge. Honesty again. It didn’t matter. She would be giving that connection up soon enough. “And I won’t force any pony to do this against their will.”

At least that second part was true.

It seemed to placate the lieutenant, though he still looked unhappy. They walked back in silence to for a while.

“Your ‘contact’ was next?” Stonewall asked, breaking the silence at last. “Where are we meeting her?”

“I don’t actually know. It is more likely that she will meet us.”

This seemed to only confuse Stonewall more, but then, he had never met her contact. Celestia sighed, she would be around somewhere. She went back to contemplating Stonewall’s words.

He’d been right; she was asking ponies to carry her own burdens and take risks they could not possibly understand. What would Luna think of her, if she were here now?

With a brief flash of anger, she told herself that she didn’t care what Luna might think. Wanting her sister back for her own comfort was unforgivably selfish. Whatever happened, the sins of the upcoming days would be hers and hers alone. Luna might be angry, but her conscience would be clear. What happened to Celestia after solstice didn’t matter anymore.

She was barreled over by something pink moving at high speed. She reflexively tensed, ready to throw off the attacker, only to realise that the attacker’s intention was to give her a hug.

“Sky!” called an excited voice.

It was the last of the candidates from Ponyville: Laughter. Favourite dessert? Her informant actually hadn’t said what her own favourite dessert was, but Celestia guessed it was simply everything.

“Hello Pinkie Pie,” Celestia said, attempting to maintain some composure despite the air being squeezed out of her lungs.

Pinkie Pie let go, choosing to bounce up and down in front of Celestia and Stonewall. “I haven’t seen you in ages! And you have a friend! That’s super-duper spectacularly great! Um, what’s he scowling at?”

Pinkie flashed Stonewall a calculating look, then bounced across to him from Celestia.

“Hi, I’m Pinkie Pie.”

Stonewall glanced in askance at Celesta.

“No, that didn’t work,” Pinkie said to herself. “What we need here is a duck.”

Of all her other candidates, she harboured a few doubts. Ponyville alone contained a population of a few thousand ponies, even before the rest of Equestria was considered. Most of the Ponyville ponies she had talked to, she’d only done so for a few minutes. Her choices had come down to local reputation.

There were no such doubts with Pinkie Pie. In all of Equestria and in all the lands beyond its borders, there could surely be no pony quite like Pinkie.

Laughter was the hardest element to find a bearer of. Or at least, the type of bearer Celestia would need. She had initially assumed they would be an entertainer; perhaps a stand-up comedian or a writer of one of the great modern comedies. But she had never found one who seemed worthy. Her intuition always told her to keep looking, but it never told her what to look for.

Everything became clear as daylight the moment she met Pinkie Pie. She had come to Ponyville as “Sky” to attend the performance of a relatively unknown pegasus comedian, stage name “Fast Wit”, and had left in a foul mood. Not only had she dismissed her three other candidates from this particular outing, but Fast Wit hadn’t even been that funny.

Celestia had been coming out of Ponyville town hall when she became aware of the pink earth pony walking beside her, examining her with scrunched up eyebrows and the thoughtful expression of a workpony inspecting a difficult job.

Two minutes later she had been grinning helplessly like a foal.

Pinkie Pie embodied mirth, joy and laughter more completely than any pony she had ever known. The comedians and entertainers might make an audience laugh, but here was a pony who lived and breathed laughter with her every thought and action. Her life’s purpose, making others smile, was so simple and yet so very profound.

Back in the present, Pinkie was holding—and talking to—a small rubber duck in some kind of attempt to win a smile from the dour Stonewall. Celestia had been nodding along, not really paying attention.

Suddenly feeling mischievous, Celestia stepped towards Stonewall and whispered: “Give Pinkie a smile, Lieutenant, and that’s an order.”

“What—” Stonewall protested, caught between the princess he had sworn to serve and pink earth pony who was giving him pleading puppy dog eyes while still holding the rubber duck. Something cracked, and the poor guardspony began laughing uncontrollably.

“And now we need to do something about you, Sky,” said Pinkie, turning on Celestia with that creased up, thoughtful expression.

“Me?” Celestia asked, curling her lips up as best she could.

“Your smile’s not right,” Pinkie said with an air of finality.

“I… It’s not something you can fix, Pinkie Pie,” Celestia replied, meeting Pinkie’s gaze and placing a hoof on the other Pony’s shoulder. “Not with a rubber duck.”

Quickly, Celestia turned from Pinkie, taking to the wing. The last expression she had seen on Pinkie’s face… seldom had she seen a look so profoundly helpless and sad on a pony.

☼ ☼ ☼

The sun hung low in the sky by the time Celestia returned to the palace. Its orange light spilled through open westward window along with air loaded with the remains of the day’s blasting heat.

“…ten tents, sixty firefly lamps, standard rations…”

She tried to pay attention to Whiskey’s words as he went through yet another equipment manifest. She really should. She had been the one who summoned him in order to go through this and half a dozen other bits of minutiae.

It wasn’t necessary for her to do all this. She shouldn’t be doing this. It was an insult to Whiskey’s skill as a Captain to be checking up on trivialities like these, but everything had to be right. She had to see everything was right, with her own eyes. One little detail out of place and…

She sighed. She ought to be sleeping. She’d scarcely managed two hours in the last few day-night cycles.

Quill was waiting outside her study, actually blocking the door. He was nervous, but as he looked up, he seemed to steel himself.

“Your Majesty,” he greeted her, actually bowing down. Whiskey immediately frowned, but then he often did around Quill.

“Quill Scratch,” Celestia said.

Quill sucked in a little air and began. His words fell out one after the other and seemed rehersed. “Your Majesty, I am one of your advisors, and so it is my duty to give advice. This includes warning you when I believe you are acting in error. You explained this particular duty to me and though I’ve never had to perform it before, at least not with respect to with something this important...” Quill glanced at the carpeted floor then back, “I believe you are making an very grave mistake.”

Breath caught Celestia’s throat and she was silent. Quill seemed to take this as a cue to go on.

“I’ve reviewed the original plan you outlined for dealing with Nightmare Moon, and quite frankly, I couldn’t see anything wrong with it. The new plan? I just don’t understand it. It seems to involve so much unnecessary complication—and that’s quite before the bits that involve deception in order to engineer a situation in which Twilight Sparkle will feel friendship.”

Quill paused a moment to gather himself. Even Whiskey seemed thoughtful. “I just don’t understand what makes this new plan more appealing. Princess, if you could tell us, maybe I could understand the logic better.”

At some point, Celestia had collapsed back on her haunches. How could she answer Quill? What was she doing, risking everything this way?

“Luna...” This time, it was Celestia who was looking at the floor. “I have a sister. Luna. She is Nightmare Moon, or trapped within an evil that makes her be that creature. I never truly learned what happened that night. But if the five Elements of Harmony could be used along with the sixth, it might bring her back.”

She looked up into the eyes of her advisor, whose mouth was wide open.

“You have a sister?”

The advisor was first incredulous but thoughtful an instant later. His eyes slowly rolled upwards to the ceiling where a faded image of two winged unicorns had been painted; one pointed upwards, chasing the sun; one pointed downwards, chasing the moon. Quill was not one of her most trusted advisors for being slow of thought.

“So all this complication is to save your sister, then?” he said.

Celestia nodded.

“I see,” Quill said. “Then my original assessment still stands. I think you are letting your personal feelings cloud your judgement. To ensure the safety of Equestria, my advice is you abandon this course of action, and return to your original plan.”

Celestia simply stared. She needed to find the words to answer Quill, but there were none. She could still see Stonewall's dissaproving sideways glance.

An Apple farmer. And a schoolteacher?

What was she doing? What was she doing? She opened her mouth to try and answer—

“Oh shut up, Quill,” came Whiskey voice, the earth pony in question jumping to position himself between Celestia and Quill. “Yer full of it. This is Princess Celestia’s sister we’re talking about here. Family. Yer don’t know how important that is until yer lost it. ‘Course they don’t teach you that in yer fancy ‘corn schools, but it’s true. As far as I care, the guard are with Celestia. Now shove off.”

This time, it was Quill’s mouth that hung open. The unicorn glared at Whiskey, then remembered himself enough to bow slightly to his princess and stalked off.

Celestia didn’t dare look up until the advisor was out of sight.

“Thank you, Whiskey.”

“Ah... don’t mention it,” the old captain replied, sounding oddly uncomfortable.

☼ ☼ ☼

What in the nine bleedin’ layers of Tartarus had he done that for?

After his outburst, Whiskey had staggered out of Celestia’s study and found a little back room where he could think. He fished out a little metal flask from his uniform, unscrewed the cap, and took a swig of his namesake.

The princess’s plan was five kinds of bleedin’ insane. Quill had been perfectly right to be questioning it. But then he’d just had to open his mouth because the sound of Quill’s over-educated voice had been annoying him, and, well, to be frank, talk of sisters had just made him think of his wife and foals in Trottingham who he hadn’t spoken to in five years because he had been such an bleedin’ idiot for most of his entire life.

He took another swig.

Heck, he’d been planning to say much the same things. He didn’t really understand the magic was supposed to work, but it all seemed to rely on happenstance and things beyond anypony’s control. Such as the fact it was apparently important that Twilight Sparkle make friends. That wasn’t going to happen.

This was, after all, the filly who stalked the palace grounds either shouting at or outright avoiding all other ponies her age. All she did was study. Rumor had it she had essentially cut all ties with everypony who wasn’t her brother a few years back, and even Shining said he didn’t see that much of her these days. And the fate of Equestria depended on this filly making friends?

He took an extra large swig.

☼ ☼ ☼

The February moon rose high into the empty night sky and a harsh wind only added to the already considerable chill across Canterlot. For a thirteen year old Twilight Sparkle, the richly furnished room where she slept provided little shelter. It was dark and it was cold and she could never be comfortable under such a high ceiling.

Twilight Sparkle, father is holding a little get together. Wine and cheese. Why don’t you come along?

It was the end of a very long, very bad day.

Twilight Sparkle! How fortunate that I just happened to run into you. Could you do me a favour, since we’re friends? It’s about my latest test score. If you could just talk to Princess Celestia...

One of many, really, but this one had been the worst for a while.

Twilight! Why do you want to spend time with Moondancer and her friends? You should be spending time with us. I know, you could introduce us to Princess Celestia.

Morning would come, and with it, the princess. Everything would be all right then. But for now it was cold and dark. Her breath came out in a little fog.

Twilight, I have a favour to ask...

She didn’t bother starting a fire or lighting the candles. It didn’t suit her mood. The little paperback book she was looking for was already on her writing desk, rather than on the bottom shelf with the rest of her Daring Do collection.

You said you’d go to her party? Our party will be much better…

It was still fairly new, but already it showed signs of overreading. The pages fell open naturally to her favourite passage.

Ah, perhaps you could put a good word in with the princess, little filly. Maybe she would like to come to my next get-together. Wouldn’t that be nice?

By the light of her horn, she began to read.

Daring leapt on top of the pile of crates, flaring her wings to steady herself as she did so. She made another futile attempt to reach open sky but she didn’t make it ten feet before she was dragged back down to earth by Quzelqotel’s strange gravity magic.

The spirit simply laughed. “You’re finished Daring,” it said. “Give me the Empyrean Key.”

“You’ll never find it Quzelqotel!”

“So be it.”

The spirit raised his mismatched forelegs, the lion foot glowing red while the eagle claw glowed blue. Daring slumped, the fight finally leaving her. Quzelqotel had shown he was capable of incredible magical feats. Only luck had kept Daring alive this long and now her luck had finally run out.

“Nooo!” came a cry unlooked for. From behind a pile of crates, a trio of ponies emerged at a full gallop, one red, one white and one electric blue. Cherry, Willow Bark, and Lightning.

“Respectively,” Twilight unconsciously murmured.

Lightning lowered his horn, shooting a beam of bright blue magic while the other two ponies charged. Quzelqotel was only just able to duck out of the way of the beam before being knocked off his feet by the galloping pegusus and earth pony.

“You haven’t seen the last of me, Daring!” the spirit screamed, before vanishing in a puff of smoke.

Daring got to her feet, uncertain of what to say. She eventually settled for: “you came back for me.”

“Hey,” said Lightning. “I know we’ve had our differences in the past, what with being rivals and such. But you looked to be in real trouble there.”

Willow Bark stepped forward, grinning. “You know, you’re actually a lot of fun Daring, even if you have an annoying knack for getting the artifacts first.”

Meanwhile, Cherry was thoughtful. “We don’t have to be rivals. If Quzelqotel gets the Empyrean Key then all of ponykind is doomed. Maybe we should start working together?”

Lightning and Daring looked at each other then back to Cherry.

“You mean, be friends?” the pair said at the exact same time.

Twilight noticed she was shivering a bit and the chair had gotten hard, so she paused to carry the little book over to her bed. Everything would be all right again by sunrise, but for now, she could lose herself in the pages.

Part 4 – Nadir

My dearest teacher,

My continuing studies of pony magic have led me to discover that we are on the p̶r̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶r̶ ̶b̶r̶i̶ that something really bad is about to happen! For you see, the mythical Mare in the Moon is in fact Nightmare Moon, and she's about to return to Equestria, and bring with her eternal night! Something must be done to make sure this terrible prophecy does not come true. I await your quick response.

Your faithful student,

Twilight Sparkle.

Celestia blinked at the letter hovering in front of her, rereading to check it really did say what she thought it said. She dimly remembered suggesting to Twilight that she take the opportunity to study something other than magic for a change. Apparently, her ever faithful student had taken the suggestion at face value.

“I really must stop underestimating that unicorn,” Celestia murmured, still staring wide-eyed at the letter. True, that unicorn had been making that exceedingly difficult lately. The thought made Celestia smille for a moment.

How to respond? She couldn’t tell Twilight everything. The sixth Element of Harmony required friendship, true friendship. She couldn’t just order Twilight to become friends with specific ponies, that wasn’t how friendships worked. But maybe she could nudge Twilight in the right direction?

Yes, she would reassure Twilight so the unicorn could relax a bit then send her to Ponyville with a job that would require her to talk to many ponies. Her direction decided, she picked up a quill and wrote the reply.

“And make some friends,” she appended to the end of the letter after a moment’s thought. True, that was almost an order, but it was clear from the context that it wasn’t. Probably. Actually, knowing Twilight, it wasn’t impossible that she might take it as an literal imperative.

Celestia suddenly had a mental image of a panicky Twilight running around Ponyville trying to talk to everypony about the weather. Well, getting Twilight to talk to ponies one way or another would aid her cause. And it would do Twilight some good too.

Yes, doing Twilight some good, using her, putting her in the path of danger.

Feeling disgusted at herself, Celestia lit her horn and the letter vanished.

☼ ☼ ☼

The missive-fire beacon burned gently with coppery-green flames, giving the surrounding forrest an unsettling tint. It was particularly noticeable against the white of the birch and those members of the guard who passed close on some errand or other. Across the flames stood Whiskey; the old captain hadn’t said anything in about half an hour—but then, there really hadn’t been call for him to do so. A pair of firefly lamps that Celestia had ordered set up rested in the grass nearby, their steady orange light mixing with the flickering green of the beacon. Whiskey occasionally frowned at them, but remained silent. Chances were they negated some of the secrecy offered by the thick canopy, but they were a comfort in that they took some of the edge away from the dark.

The beacon flared momentarily, and spat out a scroll which Celestia caught in her magic. Hastily, she unrolled it and read the contents.

To: Whitetail Woods

This is the 3:30am check in. No change in the Moon, no unusual sightings over Canterlot.

Quill Scratch

Authenticator: Phoenix Teeth

Celestia levitated the message over to Whiskey, who glanced at it and passed it over to an assistant to check the authenticator.

“Not long left ‘till dawn, yer Majesty,” he observed, glancing up at the canopy. “Maybe nothing's happening tonight after all?” Whiskey sounded relieved at that thought.

Celestia schooled her expression, keeping it neutral. In truth, she was starting to share Whiskey’s worry. Could this somehow not be the right night? Foresight hadn’t been wrong yet.

Would Luna not return? Would the stars not aid in her escape? An image came to her of herself struggling through the motions of the Summer Sun Celebration as if nothing had been out of the ordinary. She didn't want to think about it.

The beacon flared a second time and this time Whiskey caught the scroll in his teeth. Celestia exchanged a glance with the captain. This wasn’t a scheduled check in.

“Canterlot?” Celestia asked.

Whiskey unrolled the scroll and shook his head. “It’s Ponyville. The observer reports spottin’ something movin’ from beyond a group of houses. Weren’t able to see what it were, I’m afraid. ‘Cept he says ‘twernt equine.” He passed the scroll to be authenticated, and looked up at Celestia.

Celestia considered her options. “Instruct the observer to not approach, Captain. I’m due in Ponyville soon. I will investigate this personally.”

“But Princess!” Whiskey objected.

Celestia smiled despite herself at the note of protectiveness in Whiskey’s voice. “Captain, I assure you, I am far from defenceless.”

Once she was sure that there would be no further objections, she lit her horn and, picking up one of the firefly lanterns for good measure, willed the Whitetail Woods to dissolve away. With a vague feeling of snapping, her surroundings became an open street lined with jettied and thatched residences. She was in Ponyville.

She raised the lantern and squinted, but everything beyond the lamplight was dark and indistinct. At best, she could make out the outlines of the buildings. There was no movement and certainly no threat to her ponies she could see. For good measure, she kicked off into the air, and with a few wingbeats, all of Ponyville and the surrounding land were laid before her. Still nothing out of the ordinary.

Whatever it had been, she didn’t have time to investigate further. She was due at the town hall, where she would deliver a speech explaining the situation and appealing for calm. At the same time, Stonewall and the other guards stationed there would be drawing her candidates aside. Locking her wings at their full extension, she glided down towards the town hall.

The town hall itself was a cylindrically shaped building sitting in the middle of a wide open space. Much of the spirit of the little village of Ponyville was reflected in its town hall. Unlike those of Equestria’s major cities—large, gaudy things with their fancy stone pillars and think, unassailable walls—this town hall was a simple affair imperfectly crafted out of wood.

The finish on the timbers was slightly rough, but everywhere were painted bright, joyous little designs. Celestia could imagine the central room being used as much for hosting country dances as it was for official government events; indeed, several flyers pinned up near the entrance provided evidence of this. Ponyville Town Hall, then, actually managed to belong to the ponies of Ponyville in practice as well as theory.

Celestia found the entrance she was looking for round the back of the building. Taking a moment to marvel at the odd feeling of essentially using a tradespony’s entrance, she pushed open the door and ducked inside, still followed by her lantern.

Inside awaited two ponies, who both quickly bowed. One she recognised as Mayor of Ponyville. The second, the brilliant white unicorn with the excessivly styled purple mane, she also recognised. Rarity. They’d met at the “Sky”’s welcoming party.

“Everything is prepared, your Majesty,” the Mayor said. “We can begin at your convenience.”

“And if I might add,” added Rarity, “despite the short notice, I think you’ll find the decorations more than adequate. No no, they are spectacular, if I do say so myself. In the end, I went with blue and gold for the colour scheme, blue for the night, of course, but the gold should be set off by first light of the morning...”

Celestia actually had to interrupt the unicorn with a gesture.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Your Majesty,” Rarity said. “I’ve set up a curtain—it’s just along there—so if you could just stand behind it, when the moment arrives I will pull it back thus revealing your Majesty’s radiant form in all it’s glory.”

“Thank you. I’m sure I shall manage,” Celestia replied.

With that, the mayor and Rarity showed themselves out leaving Celestia alone. Noticing the back room had a window, she checked the Moon. Still no change.

Stonewall's head poked his head through the door. “Your Majesty? Most of the ponies seem to be here, including your student, the teacher, the farmer, and the... ah...” Stonewall was momentarily at a loss for an appropriate noun “...Pinkie Pie. I believe the mayor intends to give a little speech, then you’re up.”

“Thank you Stonewall,” Celestia said. “If you could tell the mayor as politely as possible to keep the speech short...?”

Stonewall nodded and stepped out, leaving Celestia alone again. The mayor’s voice began to filter through the wooden walls as her address to the assembly began. Once more, Celetia took a quick look outside at the moon—and then a longer look. The four stars were moving rapidly towards the moon, much faster than they had been.

She gulped involuntarily, as the image of the mare’s head that had haunted her every evening for the last thousand years vanished. Dimly, she was aware that the silence from the main hall was expectant, but that could wait a few moments.

Then, she felt it. The creature’s magic. Tendrils of fear encircled her throat and heart, squeezing hard. A small part of her that clung to rationality screamed at her to think about what this meant. She was here, in Ponyville. Somehow, she’d known where to come, and now Celestia’s magic would be a beacon for her.

Wasting no time, Celestia’s horn glowed, and her body was briefly enveloped in light. Her horn vanished and her stature diminished as she became “Sky” once more. She needed to get away. Even though the oppressive feeling of the alien magic was gone, the creature would still know to look here. Breaking into a gallop, she all but barreled through the back room door out into the darkness, taking flight briefly to cover the clear open space that separated the rest of Ponyville from its town hall.

She landed, somewhat ungraciously, behind a stack of hay bales. She was shaking, surrounded by inky blackness she could do nothing about. What she wouldn’t give for a torch right now. Or even a single candle.

No. Not a second time. She wouldn’t let herself be broken by the oppressive blackness a second time. She allowed herself just a moment in which to shut her eyes, and think back to better times, to memories she had tried to convince herself she could live without.

Ah, there it was. A tingling on her shoulder, as if a ghostly hoof had been placed there gently. After a moment, the hoof was withdrawn, the sense of a presence beside her remained. Celestia didn’t need to look to know Luna was there, beside her. What would Luna be doing? She’d be sitting on her haunches, expression ever serious, and eyes calmly scanning her surroundings. Celestia borrowed a little of that strength and made it her own.

A fool tries to chase away the darkness with light, and ends up alerting her enemies and blinding herself. Do not fear the dark, instead, make it your friend.

Luna’s words, from long ago. Celestia stole a glance back at the town hall, but there was nothing to see. She had to assume that the creature was somewhere close. They had a contingency plan for this situation, as unlikely as it had seemed. There was a rendezvous point outside of Ponyville that Stonewall would know to make his way towards. Celestia just had to reach it without being spotted.

Your white plumage and coat will stand out in the dark, Luna said from beside her. Do something about that.

Celestia glanced about, finding only a patch of dusty ground. It was summer, and any mud would have already been dried up by her own sun. It wasn’t ideal, but the dust took some of the lustre from her coat and she didn’t have time to look for a better solution.

She took to the air, darting quickly from rooftop to rooftop. Luna kept pace, prompting her as they progressed. Watch that you don’t silhouette yourself against the sky. Be mindful of your outline, that will give you away. Move quickly when you must, and freeze still otherwise.

Celestia was alighting on a rooftop when the buildings around her were illuminated by a series of sudden flashes of light, each followed a fraction of a second later by sharp bangs. It had sounded like a thunderbolt, though not the massive kind that reached down from cloud level to the ground, but more like the kind produced by a mischievous pegasus bucking a cloud.

From behind you, Luna hissed. Get down, freeze, and observe.

Celestia found a chimney top to duck behind. She could see nothing but stillness between the dark shapes of the buildings of Ponyville. Nor was there anything in the sky—

Another, brighter flash tore through the darkness accompanied a moment later by an appropriately louder bang. This time Celestia spotted the source: the town hall had lit up, each window and door momentarily bathed in white.

That second flash in particular filled Celestia with dread. What had happened? Was there fighting going on?

Your disguise is far from perfect. Luna said. Continue to the rendezvous point, you can use the missive-fire there to re-establish contact.

Yes, that’s what Luna would have done. It was safe, pragmatic, but it wasn’t what Celestia was going to do. She climbed out from behind the chimney and dove off the thatched roof, catching herself with her wings. She headed back in the direction of the town hall, this time flying close to the ground, attempting to always keep a building between her and her destination.

It didn’t take long to reach the edge of the clear space that surrounded the hall. Celestia alighted on an overlooking rooftop, intending to check the coast was clear before covering the last stretch.

It was fortunate that she did. All at once, a blue wisp began to leak out of several openings and bled into the night. Celestia whipped her head back behind the thatch.

Eyes and mark! Luna barked.

Celestia awkwardly unfolded her wings to cover the sunbursts on each flank and squeezed her eyes shut. She shuffled further down the far side of the roof to where Luna was hidden, her stomach pressing against the thatch. Breathing hard, Celestia counted out a minute before daring to open them again.

When she did, the rooftop was still empty and all around was silence. Either she hadn’t been spotted, or she hadn’t been considered important.

Assuming the form of a blue wisp had been one of Luna’s favourite tricks. In some ways it was almost as useful as Blink’s Talent. That wisp. The colour was right, the feel of the magic was right. Celestia took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she sucked air through her nostrils. That scent. That bygone, forgotten scent. Luna’s.

She was here. She had really been here. Not fifty paces away.

The comforting feeling of her sister’s imagined presence beside her was gone. The space where she’d imagined the shade of Luna was empty, there had never been anything there. Once again, she was alone in the dark.

It was time to get moving.

Peeking over the rooftop once again, she saw no sign of the wispy form. No, wait, over there. Movement. Celestia counted four indistinct blurry equine forms moving away from the meeting hall. They would have to wait, with the town hall safe, she needed to get inside and find out what had happened.

She spread her wings and lept off the rooftop, hoping to cross the empty gap as quickly as possible. She alighted on the second floor balcony of the circular structure. There didn’t seem to be anypony about outside, but muted voices could be heard from within. She trotted over to the interior wall, trying to keep her profile close to the ground.

Light poured out of the windows, so to preserve her feeble night vision, Celestia kept her right eye shut as she peered inside—something Luna once taught her.

Within was a scene of chaos. Hundreds of ponies milled around directionlessly. The Mayor was running around from group to group appealing for calm, clearly out of her depth. A tight knot of ponies crowded round three shapes on the floor that appeared to be of interest. Celestia gasped as she managed to catch a glimpse of white through all the pony bodies. Three downed royal guards.

Her throat tightened. One was Stonewall. Worse, she couldn’t see Twilight anywhere. In just a few moments, all her plans were in ruins before her.

Since Luna was nowhere to be seen in the hall, there was no need to be sneaking about. The balcony windows were too big to be openable, so Celestia circled the building until she found the upper story door and pushed it open, causing a pair of foals to jump at the sound of her’s entrance.

“Hush now, everything will be fine,” she reassured them, before leaping down to where the three guards lay. Each was surrounded by a dozen ponies who were trying to get a look or perhaps help in some unspecified way.

“Everypony, move back and give them some space!” Celestia said, her words cutting through the hubbub. The crowd moved back from the downed guards.

“I’d like anypony here who has any sort of medical or first aid training to make themselves known,” she continued. Two ponies, a mare and a stallion, stepped forward.

“Um, I’m not a doctor, but I’ve done a first aid course.”

“I’m training with nurse Redheart.”

Celestia nodded at two of the guards. “See what you can do to help. Everypony else, keep giving them room.”

Celestia trotted over to Stonewall and knelt down as the other first aiders each took responsibility for a guard each. Stonewall looked conscious but dazed, appearing to have sustained burns in several places. Fortunately, they looked survivable.

“Pr... Sky?” he said weakly, looking up.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“Nightmare Moon was here. She appeared on the balcony up there,” he said, gesturing with a hoof. “She said some things about the night lasting forever. I don’t exactly remember. Then the mayor ordered us to attack...” Stonewall managed to almost look sheepish. “I know you told me not to do that... but when Winter and Oakwood jumped at the order... I couldn’t just not help them...”

“So you attacked Nightmare Moon along with them?” Celestia asked. “Not very wise of you... but very brave. Element of Loyalty indeed.”

Stonewall chuckled, then winced a bit.

The stallion who had been Redheart’s apprentice trotted over. “I don’t think they’re in immediate danger, but we need to get some dressings on those wounds.”

Celestia nodded, then raised her head and called out for bandages. She noticed the mayor looking at her and dearly hoped that the administrator wasn’t going to take issue with an apparent stranger galloping in and taking over. She didn’t want to waste the minutes it would take to explain.

Thankfully, it didn’t seem to be an issue. A pegasus flyer was sent out to Ponyville hospital in short order so Celestia turned her attention back to Stonewall. “Did you see Twilight?” she asked.

“Yeah. Smart kid,” Stonewall replied. “Knew exactly who Nightmare Moon was and called her out.”

“She’s not here now, do you know where she went?”

Stonewall shook his head.

Celestia stood up and addressed the room. “Has anypony seen a unicorn called Twilight Sparkle? I need to speak with her as soon as possible. It’s important.” Several of the ponies glanced questioningly at each other. “Purple coat. Indigo mane and tail. Has a stripe down the middle of both.”

“I think I know who you mean,” offered a stallion. “I saw her leave. She didn’t say where she was going.”

Celestia turned back to Stonewall. “I need to find Twilight, then I’ll return. We’re far from sunk yet.”

With that, Celestia turned to go but a wing brushed against her.

“Princess, I...” Stonewall began. Several ponies looked at each other in surprise at the form of his address. Celestia ignored them. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“What do you mean you don’t think you can do this anymore?”

Stonewall clambered to get upright, backing away. Celestia realised that quite a few nearby ponies were staring. How sharply had that come out?

“What do you mean, Stonewall?” she asked again when she trusted herself to speak.

“I—I know what I did that makes you think I deserve this,” Stonewall explained. “But things are different now. I met somepony. We have a foal on the way and that changes things. When that lightning bolt hit me, all I could think about was my foal growing up without a father. I don’t want that to happen.”

Stonewall continued to back away, looking as if he expect her to strike him down. He had a foal on the way. She hadn’t known that.

“I need a bearer for Loyalty.” She was stepping forward again. Stonewall began to back away again. “This is more important than you understand.”

Help me!

“I... I...” Stonewall shut his eyes and lowered his head. “I keep seeing my little colt or filly being taken to see my grave.” He backed into one of the walls, wincing in pain as he caught one of his burns on the wood.

Immediately, Celestia dropped to her haunches, wings drooping. What was she doing? What had happened to her? Had she really just tried to conscript an Element of Loyalty? That was as illogical as it was wrong.

“Lieutenant Stonewall,” she said at last. “I understand. Family is important. Under the circumstances, I cannot expect you to continue.” She only hoped that no further hint of accusation had entered her tone. “Consider yourself off-duty.”

☼ ☼ ☼

Celestia walked through the inky darkness. Her night vision, never very good to begin with, was gone, lost to the lighting in the town hall. All she could see were indistinct shapes towering over her, buildings she presumed, and tens of thousands of stars who looked down at her with contempt and hate for what she had done to their adopted mother a thousand years ago. Twilight was nowhere to be seen. She hoped her student had found somewhere safe to hide.

She tried to picture Luna walking through the dark with her as before, but it proved impossible. The feeling wouldn’t come. Luna was gone, she always had been.

It would have to be quick, the confrontation. She would lose any kind of protracted fight. Luna was so much more of the warrior that she. Diplomat. Philosopher. Peacemaker. Scholar. Occasional artist. Teacher, lately. These were things she thought of herself as; she was no warrior.

She would have to have surprise on her side. Approach while invisible, masking her magic until the last moment with the transformation spell. Ideally, she would catch Luna asleep. A beam of magical sunlight would be enough. No space for hesitation. Luna was too dangerous.

She could hold her head up. She could discipline herself to not sniff. She could keep her face measured. But she couldn’t stop the tears.

She collapsed against a house, and her gaze involuntarily crossed the dark silhouettes of the Ponyville buildings. One stood out.

The library. In a time of crisis, Twilight would be attracted there like a moth to a flame. Perhaps the situation was still salvageable. It had to be.

☼ ☼ ☼

Ponyville library was an oddity, and not just because of the fact that was built into a tree. Ponyville was simply too small a town to justify the expense of an entire library, and yet there it was. Celestia had gathered it was a former pet project of a previous mayor that hadn’t really taken off. For the amount of use it probably got, chances are it wasn’t technically worth the bits—not that Celestia particularly minded the thought of the citizens of Ponyville having access to a such a source of learning, efficient use of bits or not.

The library even lacked a full time librarian and had been tended to by Cheerilee. During the hasty reorganising of the Summer Sun celebration, she’d remembered the library when looking for a place for Twilight to stay. If anypony would appreciate such lodgings, it would be her.

However, when Celestia landed, she found the windows of the library darkened, the door locked, and nopony answered when she knocked. Had she misjudged her protégé? She briefly considered simply kicking the door in, but then noticed that the library had an upper story balcony, which she fluttered up to.

The upper story window swung open when pushed—yes this place certainly had been under the care of an earth pony and, more recently, a unicorn—and there was Spike, lying asleep in a basket. Despite everything, Celestia found herself smiling a bit at the sight of him. As for the rest of the library, it was a mess. Books and papers lay strewn across the floor. Perhaps Twilight had been back here?

Celestia knelt down by the sleeping dragon and shook him gently with a hoof. She was loath to wake him, but she needed to find Twilight.

“What...” he mumbled. “Aw, come on Twilight. Five more minutes.”

“Spike, it’s not Twilight, it’s Celestia.”

“Princess?” Spike said, becoming more awake, “Huh, you don’t look like Celestia.”

“I’m in disguise right now,” Celestia explained.

Spike looked her over. “Oh, okay,” he blinked away some sleep, “You look a bit like Celestia.”

“Spike, I’m sorry for waking you, but I need to know where Twilight is,” Celestia said, her smile fading. “It’s important.”

“Oh,” Spike said. “Is this about that Nightmare Moon mare? Are you and Twilight going to kick her out of Equestria? Or make her explode with your pony magic?”

“Yes Spike, this is about the Mare in the Moon and I do have a plan, but it’s a little different to those things.” She wasn’t sure how true that was anymore, but Spike didn’t have to worry about that. This time, there was no twinge from her connection to Honesty, she took that as a good sign. “But I need to find Twilight first.”

“Oh, right,” Spike said. “Twilight brought me here after Nightmare Moon came but I was kind of falling asleep so she put me to bed. But a few minutes after that I heard some ponies arguing.

“They woke me up just after I got comfortable,” Spike added, pouting slightly before continuing. “I think they were talking about something to do with the ‘Elements of Harmony’ whatever those are.”

Celestia’s eyes widened. She really, really must stop underestimating that unicorn.

“Then they all started talking about going into somewhere called the Everfree Forest, I don’t know why, I was trying to get back to sleep.” Spike thought for a moment. “Twilight was looking in a book, you know, as usual. Maybe it would say there?”

“Do you know who these other ponies were?”

“Nope, not a clue,” Spike frowned, thinking. “Oh, wait, I bet I know. They must have been the ponies we met yesterday while checking on the preparations. Um, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie and... Rarity.”

One of the Apple family siblings and Pinkie Pie. They were her Honesty and Laughter. But Rarity and Rainbow Dash? Neither were promising candidates. What was Twilight thinking? Well, having a strong flyer like Rainbow Dash couldn’t hurt but Rarity was more confusing. Celestia had let slip that she was from Canterlot just once in the dressmaker’s hearing and from then on Rarity hadn’t left her “Sky” persona alone. The whole ordeal had been incredibly trying, and she’d pegged Rarity as a rather superficial hanger-on.

And now this superficial hanger-on had followed her student into one of the most dangerous parts of Equestria of her own free will?

And Fluttershy? She had no clue who this this Fluttershy was.

Something else clicked. Had Spike said that last name like he had been savouring the word? Never mind, it wasn’t important.

“Perhaps I’ll take a look at that book,” Celestia said, getting up.

The library floor might have been a mess but the book in question was easy to find, having been left open on the table while the other books had been thrown across the floor. It was indeed Elements of Harmony, a Reference Guide. A decent enough text that actually managed to be mostly accurate.

It is said, Celestia read from the open page, that the last known location of the five Elements of Harmony was in the Ancient Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters.

Then Spike had been right. That was where Twilight would be heading, with only five local ponies for assistance.

“Spike, please take a letter,” Celestia said. The seriousness of the situation mustn't have been lost on the little dragon, because he climbed out of the basket to fetch writing materials without complaint.

“Captain Whiskey,” she began when Spike was ready. “Send the squad of ponies equipped for travelling in the Everfree to Ponyville immediately. There, they should proceed into the forest by the path until they reach the old castle. They are to look for a group of six civilian ponies—Spike, what tribe was Fluttershy from?”

“She was a pegasus.”

Celestia could have guessed so from the name, but it was better not to assume.

“They are to look for a group of six civilian ponies—two earth, two pegasi, and two unicorns—and provide them with assistance and protection.”

She leaned her neck over Spike’s shoulder so she could tot up the first letters of each line and derive the correct authenticator.

“Finish it off with ‘passphrase: sandy opera. Signed, Princess Celestia.’”

“Sandy what?”

“It’s a passphrase, Spike,” Celestia explained. “So they know it’s really me sending it. There is a beacon set up in the Whitetail Woods that should catch it.”

The little dragon nodded and with a deep breath, burnt the note.

“Thank you Spike,” Celestia said, affectionately laying a hoof on the little dragon’s head. “You should get your rest now. I’ll find Twilight.”

“Celestia...” Spike began, as he climbed back into his basket, “it’s... going to be okay, isn’t it?”

Celestia put on her best comforting smile. “Don’t fret Spike, I’ll fix things.”

Apparently that was good enough, because Spike closed his eyes and began to snore. Celestia’s smile faded as she stood.

“Oh Twilight,” Celestia said to herself. “I meant for you to face the Everfree more prepared than this.”

Part 5 – As the Willow in the Wind

Birds chirped to themselves softly, the remains of night’s rain dripped from new spring leaves, and a little unicorn wrapped up warm in scarf bounced excitedly at her side.

“Where are we going?”

“You wished to learn more today, so I thought of one more thing to show you. You can practise it today and show me what you learned tomorrow.”

“Homework?”

She chuckled. “Yes, Twilight.”

They arrived at the end of the short path that lead down from the manicured palace gardens to the cliff side. A few empty benches before a whitewashed guardrail overlooked the drop. The sun was still close to the horizon, and the last few reds and oranges of the sunrise were still visible.

She summoned a scroll and transparent vial and offered them to the unicorn, who accepted them.

“It is a spell that often comes to ponies with a passion for fine art.”

“Oh, this looks complicated,” came a despairing voice hidden behind the fully unrolled scroll as big as its owner. This one was complicated, but the unicorn was talented; it would only take a few days at most.

“And now I’m afraid that duty really does call, I will see you tomorrow.” She smiled, moving to leave.

She was stopped by a tingling of nearby magic. Curious, she turned back. Sparks few from the unicorn’s horn above a face scrunched up with effort. With a quick forward jerk of the head, her student finished the casting with a burst of light.

Panting but smiling, her little unicorn offered up the token what she had just created. Momentarily speechless, she accepted it. The colour of her sunrise, deftly captured in a little crystal bottle.

☼ ☼ ☼

Celestia of the Three River Vally Heard ran. Gnarled tree trunks of the Everfree tore past Celestia as she barrelled through the undergrowth with reckless speed.

Guilt propelled her. She should never have risked. She should never have strayed. She should never have hoped. Somewhere in there was Twilight, her poor, poor student, and Luna. She didn't have any kind of plan left. She just had to get to them. If she could, maybe she could still make this right.

Leaves and branches tore at her face and eyes, but she didn’t slow. Where the tree branches permitted she lept into the air and flew short distances until the twisted overgroath of branches forced her back down. In the darkness, it felt like falling down and down into a deep pit.

She was pleased with how much of the old ways she still remembered. Some instincts were too deeply ingrained to forget. Watch every direction at once. Remember to look back. Pause every so often to listen. Remember to use your nose—she’d smelled a Manticore a while back, but it hadn’t bothered her. So many ponies these days forgot their nostrils.

She didn’t follow the path directly, as that would have left her too exposed, but ran closely alongside it. She was making good progress. With luck she would be able to catch Twilight and her five companions. Unfortunately, the wild pace meant she couldn’t really be stealthy.

By the time she noticed the soft, silvery glow coming from ahead, it was already too late to avoid being spotted. She froze anyway, but to no avail.

“Now, what is it that we have here?” Came a deep, regal voice that was powerful without needing to be loud—a voice that belonged to a creature who was used to being obeyed. The glow grew stronger until the entire patch of woods was illuminated with a cold light. “Ah. Thou art but small pegasus, lost in the forest. Tell us—”

The creature halted its approach as it ceased speaking and leaned forward in surprise. The body was that of a draconic in shape, complete with wings, claws, and a tail, but the build was sleeker than a terrestrial dragon. Long, silvery whiskers hung down from the snout. Upon the head sat a crown made of an ivory-white starstuff. But most strikingly of all, a silvery light that leaked out from between each scale. Celestia knew this creature. It was a star. Alpha-Draconis.

“Thuban,” Celestia said flatly. Dealing with stars was always a little disconcerting. They were strange creatures of habit whose lives were dominated by cycles that ponykind was far from fully understanding. Some cycles lasted hours or days, others took millennia. Strangely, the stars themselves lacked any self-awareness of this. Polaris had talked about making war on Thuban for dominion of the northern skies for millennia, always claiming that she would make her move soon, yet never had until the proper time. In some ways, they could be almost childlike in their denial.

Another trait that made them difficult was that they nearly every star hated her with as much passion as they loved Luna.

“Celestia, we did not expect to find you here,” Thuban said, switching to the more formal mode of address. “We expected to meet you on the field of battle, not hiding in the dark like a foal.”

“What do you want?” Celestia asked carefully. “Why are you here down on the world?”

“We art here to protect our Luna from your machinations!” The celestial dragon spat, and the inner light intensified enough to cast long shadows in the dark. “You who heartlessly banished our Lady.”

“Peace!” Celestia replied. “I mean Luna no harm.”

Thuban leaned forward dangerously.

“Oh? Is that so?” The dragon raised his arm and snapped two claws together. In a flash of magic, a folder of paper appeared in them, which Thuban then threw contemptuously down at Celestia’s feet. With a feeling of sinking, she recognised the packet.

“Go on!” Thuban shouted, the hint of respect gone again. “Deny that those are thine words, thine seal, and thine signature!”

She remembered Whiskey’s report of an intruder, who had not been a pony yet had used magic. The one she’d dismissed because she was busy and nothing seemed to have been taken. Then later, at that fateful meeting, Merryweather had been sharing his briefing packet with Lodestone when there should have been one for everypony.

“Thou didst not notice,” Thuban said. “No pony at all noted us gone from the sky. In a way, that simply proveth the truth of our lady’s position.”

Ponies might have noticed, certainly the astronomers, but even if they had, she hadn’t been making herself approachable these last few days. She hadn’t noticed.

“Those papers were written by me, but my objectives have changed since then.” The truth was worth a try, even though Celestia didn’t hold out a lot of hope.

Thuban's response indeed didn’t surprise her. “We see little point in further conversation," He grunted contemptuously. "We will take thee to thine sister where she will decide thine fate once she is done dealing with thine six agents.”

There was an air of finality to the star's words, and he began to approach. Celestia had only a moment to consider her options. The fact that Thuban hadn’t made any moves against her suggested that he didn’t consider her a threat. He must assume that recovering her magic would be a complicated affair—and that would be true of some lesser shapeshifting spells—but with this one, three clicks of her forehooves, done in a fraction of a second, was all it took. Except, if she did that, Luna would sense her leading to the confrontation she so badly wanted to avoid.

But if she didn’t... somewhere out there Twilight and her companions might be in mortal danger, struggling through the deadly forest and facing a foe they could not hope to match without her help. She had to get to them, and protect them.

I really must stop underestimating that unicorn.

The thought came unbidden.

Light the fire. Believe things could be better. Lift your head up from the dirt because the world was a beautiful, wonderful place. What had happened to that Celestia? She’d been betrayed. Hurt. Crushed under the weight of ten thousand “maybes” and “what-ifs”.

Light shone down through the impossible pane, daring her to hope.

That Celestia wasn’t dead. Not yet.

Did she believe something of Luna was still left or not? Something that could still be reached? And Twilight, did she believe in her student or not? Every word of praise, over all the years. Had she meant them or not? Well?

She fixed her gaze on the former king of the northern skies. Somehow, the darkness of the forest no longer held any fear for her. “Those things may come to pass, but first—” Celestia kicked off from the ground as hard as she could and took to the wing, “—you must catch me!”

Somehow, with no clues and few resources, Twilight was closer to the Elements than Celestia. She had chosen her companions, not the onses Celestia should have chosen, but who was to say they weren't the right ones. They didn’t need Celestia, they didn’t need her guidance, they only needed time. So she would give them that.

☼ ☼ ☼

“See, I’d never leave my friends hanging,” the enthusiastic cyan pegasus remarked as if that had been the most unremarkable thing in the world. Not waiting for an answer, she flapped onwards towards the ruin.

Despite the rather dire situation, Twilight realised she was smiling. Even more surprisingly, she realised more than ten years of accumulated cynicism somehow failed to dampen the expression.

☼ ☼ ☼

Celestia dived and weaved in and out of the brambles and branches, pirouetting around the magic thrown at her by the usurped king who gave chase.

The weight of the years vanished like they had never been. She became a simple thing of running and flight that existed in the tiny sliver between future and past. There was no space any more for regrets or worries. The world contained only the forest, her would-be hunter, and she.

She never let the king’s light grow too dim, or too bright. She couldn’t be caught, but she couldn’t lose him either. Nor could she let the star learn that he was being led; the chase needed to seem genuine.

A prickling feeling across her feathers prompted her to pitch upwards and spin just in time to dodge a searing bolt of lightning. Behind her, Thuban let out a scream of frustration. Channelling Luna, she’d remembered to close her eyes to preserve her night vision, while Thuban evidently had not. She used the opportunity to duck under a bush and hide.

“Where art thou!” Thuban bellowed, his voice echoing slightly. The star was angry, she could use that.

She listened as Thuban wasted precious minutes stomping about the undergrowth before he spotted her white plumage, then the chase was on once more. She fought like a pegasus of old, with cunning and trickery. She stroked his anger with mocking words and actions and effortlessly dodged the magic thrown back in retort.

How could they harm her? She as light and free as a wisp of air; she who had run through the grasslands and forests of the world when it was young. She was the sun, Thuban but a tiny star.

☼ ☼ ☼

“You’re kidding me. You’re kidding me right?”

She was charging Nightmare Moon. Nightmare Moon was charging her.

Ah, ponyfeathers.

When Twilight had woken up last morning, her list of things she expected to do that day had not included charging The Mare in the Moon. Even when stepping into the castle, it had not featured on any kind of itinerary she might have prepared. But here she was, out of time and out of options, charging Nightmare Moon because all other roads led to night eternal.

She’d dimly hoped that she might be able to slip under the larger pony’s hooves or perhaps duck to the side, but actually seeing Nightmare Moon bearing down on her? That wasn’t going to happen.

No plan. No checklist. No nothing. She felt lightheaded.

Seconds left. There’d been another unicorn who had lived her life like this, hadn’t there? All at once, understanding dawned. The study notes hadn’t mattered. The few incomprehensible pages of primary sources hadn’t mattered. None of it had. That wasn’t the point. Nothing that Blink had been was the written word and nothing of the written word had been Blink. No wonder she had struggled to learn.

Her horn lit as she felt the ghostly presence of a unicorn charging Nightmare Moon with her. In a voice that reached down through eight hundred years, it spoke:

“I can show you how to get past Nightmare.”

☼ ☼ ☼

Celetia kicked off a tree and dove to the right, crossing a deep ditch before landing on her hooves. Behind her, the glow through the trees intensified as Thuban sailed into view. Unlike her, he was forced to the ground early by his larger wingspan and would have to navigate the ditch by foot. Celetia covered by exaggerating her breathlessness to make it appear that she was tiring.

Thuban raised both claws, which began to glow as more lightning arced between them. Celestia tensed to jump but before she could, something ripped at her soul. It staggered her for at a vital moment and her dodge was off. When the bolt hit, she was thrown clumsily to one side and slid in the dirt.

What had that been? Ah. She had lost Honesty. Kindness followed as she lay in the dirt in pain. Laughter left her moments later as the towering draconic figure stepped towards her hooves. Generosity hurt the most—the element she had known longest and most keenly—but she gave it freely despite how hollow it left her. Last to go was Loyalty, as she was lifted up to Thuban’s face in the grip of the star’s magic.

“Why art thou smiling?”

Celestia forced herself to ignore the pain and numbness so she could answer. She even managed a little chuckle.

“Because none of this mattered,” she said. “Because tonight, I am not the only one whose plans lay in ruin. But mostly because sometimes the world truly is a beautiful, wonderful place where miracles happen.”

When Thuban tilted his head in confusion, Sky continued.

“I never mattered, I never even had a say. Luna will be returned to us healed, tonight. The best of all endings, and I never even saw it coming.”

“Explain thyself!”

Celestia simply smiled and said: “Do you feel that?”

There was a tingling in her wings, the part of her that was currently most magical. Thuban must have felt it too, because he stepped back into a defensive stance, looking in the direction of the old castle. The tingling crescendoed rapidly. Celestia let her smile soften and shut her eyes. In moments, all she could feel was peace.

The pair were hit by a pure white magical shockwave later estimated to be traveling at eight times the speed of sound and still accelerating. It didn’t matter at all that Celestia’s eyes were closed; she could still see it. The light outshone the sun many times over. It shone through the toughest objects like they were glass. But as bright as the light was, it didn’t hurt at all.

Seconds later, the light passed through the tiny village of Ponyville and was still strong as it passed over Canterlot. It travelled past the borders of Equestria and out over satellite nations Equestria had treaties with.

In the settlement of Appleloosa, Sheriff Silver Star was standing before a worried crowd of apple farmers, trying his best to allay their fears that the sun had not risen when the light passed by. Even though night remained in its wake, the ponies looked at each other and smiled; somehow they knew everything was going to be all right.

In nations so distant that Equestria only received messages from them every few years, magical creatures turned their heads to wonder what the tingling sensations they felt could possibly have been.

The light embedded itself into the very geology of the world’s magic. A hundred years from now, teachers of magical theory would gather foals around sensitive arcane instruments so they could see readings of the still ringing echoes of today.

Her awareness subsumed into to the glory. Inanna be damned. The price for Luna... nothing more than a little trust. It had never been any more than that.

☼ ☼ ☼

The easy smile still remained on her face when she came to her senses. She lay, still in the body of a pegasus, on a patch of lush, green grass quite unlike anything found in the Everfree. There was an aching hollowness within her, where her connection with the spirits of harmony had once been. Without them, the world would be a just a little bit less friendly, just a touch harsher. They had always been right there, ready to be clutched onto in the secret moments in the middle of the night when perhaps brave little princesses didn’t feel so brave. Even immortal rulers of nations sometimes needed something to believe in, perhaps even more so than other ponies.

But, well, the Elements weren’t gone, were they? They had just changed.

“Twilight,” she breathed, “you did it.” And the others. She would meet them soon.

Unfortunately, before she had time to rise, she was swept up in the grip of silvery magic and forcibly turned to face Thuban.

“Explain what just occurred!”

Apparently, the celestial dragon had been the first to recover. Her body was held in telekinetic force. She struggled to click her hooves together, but she was held fast. The star looked angry, very angry. Perhaps if she could only keep him occupied just a short while longer...

“That was the feeling of ponies using the Elements of Harmony,” she pleaded. “It's good news.”

“The Elements? Thy meaning being that Luna is banished once more?” Thuban said, dangerously. He frowned, his bushy eyebrows almost meeting. He opened his mouth to speak—

“All right, I don’t know what you are, but put the pegasus down!” Came the voice of a stallion.

Yes, the world might be a wonderful place full of miracles large and small, but it never hurt to make one’s own luck too, did it not? The direction she had been leading Thuban in had not been entirely random, and those thunderbolts had be quite loud.

Shining Armour lept into the clearing at a gallop, followed by nine royal guards. He immediately surrounded them in a shimmering mauve shield.

“We do not know who thou art, pony,” Thuban replied. “But thou shalt leave us.”

When Shining Armour’s expression narrowed, Thuban contemptuously raised a claw and struck out with a thin bolt of lightning. It hit the shield and was absorbed harmlessly. Thuban raised an eyebrow.

Shining Armour responded by shifting his weight and murmuring what were presumably instructions to his companions. This time, Thuban raised both claws and lightning sparked between them. The resulting bolt was thick and evil, but it too bounced harmlessly off the shield and impacted onto a tree. The bark to split open as the sap to boiled.

As this happened, the silvery glow around the white pegasus went out as the dragon ceased to concentrate on it. She dropped to the ground, tapping her forehooves together as she fell. By the time Thuban recovered from the surprise of having his attack deflected, a tall, regal alicorn was looking him directly in the eye.

“How!” was all he managed, as he backed away.

Celestia stepped forward in turn. “Everything I said was true. Luna is unharmed. Go now and celebrate.”

Thuban seemed to consider his options, but not for long. He moved to kick off into the air, but he was stopped by a wing placed on his shoulder.

“We thank thee from the bottom of our heart for returning our sister from the moon. But should we ever learn that it was thee who was responsible for the madness that put her there,” Celestia paused for emphasis, “there are entire branches of astronomy dedicated to learning the ways that stars can die. Consider that.”

Thuban gulped, before spreading his wings and flying up through the canopy, while Celestia watched him go for a moment. Her final words troubled her, in not least of which because she could not say if she had truly meant them or not. Yet another matter to meditate on at a future date.

Instead, she turned to face the squad of ponies. They bowed as she did so, so she motioned them to rise.

“Lieutenant, your assistance was most timely,” she said, the princess once more. “You showed commendable bravery; that was no trivial foe.”

Yes, Princess Celestia of Equestria had returned. The many tangled layers wrapped around the core of what she was slipped effortlessly back into place. But perhaps... perhaps they fit together a little better now. Yes, Princess Celestia had left for a while, but now it was time she returned, wiser than before.

“All part of our duty, your majesty!” one of the guards said. He was smiling. They were all smiling. It was difficult not to. Something in the air.

“Lieutenant,” Celestia said, “proceed as instructed down the path to the old castle. With luck, I will meet you coming in the opposite direction. I shall go ahead.”

“Yes your majesty!” Shining Armour said, saluting.

With that, Celestia reared up and rose into the air with a single powerful flap of her wings. At her back, the sun rose over the world.

☼ ☼ ☼

“Sir, why is green grass ’n’ flowers growing under ah hooves wherever we step? Is that supposed ta happen?”

The white stallion who seemed to be in charge looked down, and saw that this was indeed the case.

“I don’t know, private, but it’s probably a good thing.”

A moment passed.

“Did... did we just rescue the princess? As in, Princess Celestia-princess? That just happened?”

Once again, the white stallion had to take a moment to consider this. “I... I think we did.”

“Sir,” another pony chipped in. “Rescuing the princess is going to look mighty good on our records, ain’t it? Do you think we’re all going to get commendations?”

“That’s pretty good for you, sir,” a second pony said, nudging the white unicorn with a hoof. “Especially with the old captain retiring soon.”

Strangely, the lieutenant in question failed to look as enthusiastic as his comrades.

“Sir?”

“Oh it’s nothing. Just... well, I don’t know. A commendation would be nice.” The stallion’s expression became oddly wistful for a moment. “It’s just, I always assumed that if I was going to rescue a princess, it would be, well, a different one.”

None of the other ponies seem to know what to make of this, so the group set out towards the old castle.

Epilogue, In Which Twilight Sparkle Defeats a Dragon

Whiskey leaned against a lamppost, assuming an easy and contented slouch. He was bone tired, and more than a little confused about what had happened in back in the Everfree. Messages to the Whitetail beacon and been jumbled even before they stopped coming through entirely. Then there'd been that light, which left him feeling warm an fuzzy all over.

Later, Stonewall had come back with bad burns down his side, and didn’t have time to give a report before being taken to a hospital. And he was resigning, for reasons Whiskey wasn't yet clear on. And then Lieutenant Shining come back with a face like a thundercloud even though talk among the privates was the 'corn had made something of a hero of himself. And then Shining's sister had taken him aside, and afterwards, well, he still looked like a thundercloud, but less like one that was actively going to explode at any moment.

Still, the Sun now hung there in the sky exactly where it should be, so Whiskey was content that all other matters could work themselves out in due time. Preferably after about twenty four hours of solid sleep.

The ponies on the Canterlot main street had even less idea what was going on, it seemed. Whiskey smiled to himself while he watched them. Pegasi gathered in on the rooftops or hovered in the air. Always had an advantage, they did, when there was something to be gawked at. The ‘corns and the earthers had to be content with their positions in windows and the streets. He even thought spotted a monocle drop from the face of some well dressed fellow.

The city was uncertain. Ponies milled about, unsure if they should still be going to work, school, or preparing for the end. In the streets, little knots of ponies gathered outside of houses. More than a few were neighbours, Whiskey reckoned, talking to each other for the first time in years. The city had woken from the comfortable routine of daily life. This was a day it would remember.

“Warms yer heart, doesn’t it?” Whiskey said to his companion, stretching his neck to get a better view of the carriage at the centre of everypony’s attention.

“Maybe,” the stallion replied. “But I think we got very lucky. And I foresee many problems ahead of us. For a start, the interruption in sunlight is going to cause us problems with the weather schedule.” He paused, thinking. “But that’s nothing next to the diplomatic situation. Do you know how many treaties we just violated? I do. It’s seventy six; Equestria has a Treaty of Dawn and Dusk with practically every nation it has ever had diplomatic relation with. And even accepting that, then there’s this new Princess Luna. I have no idea what to do about that or how she’s going to affect things, and…”

The stallion trailed off, possibly because Whiskey was chuckling to himself. “Only you, Quill, could take a day like today and poor cold water all over it.”

Quill let out a little grunt that was probably supposed to be dignified. “These things need to be thought about, Captain.”

Whiskey decided to leave the unicorn to his own devices for a moment, as the carriage was passing by. Smiling, Whiskey doffed his helm, straightened himself up, and gave the Princess his best salute. Well, the two Princesses now.

The Princess was on the royal carriage, seeming as radiant as always. Whiskey knew better. There was a slight glassiness to her expression that told him her mind was anywhere but with the crowd. Next to her was the pony who was causing the most commotion. A winged unicorn with a sky blue coat and turquoise eyes. That must be Luna. Luna's eyes darted in every direction at once, bewildered, as if she didn’t know what to look at next.

Whiskey blinked a few times. His eyes had gone all watery.

“Still…” Quill said, “even though it means more work, and more complications for Equestira, I am glad that things have turned out the way they did.”

Whiskey stared at Quill, whose face was still completely straight.

It was too much. His smile broadening even more, Whiskey lopped a foreleg around the Adviser to the Realm and squeezed into a one-sided hug, finishing by patting the other stallion on the back.

Quill, for his part, shuffled about uncomfortably, and brushed himself off. “So, Captain,” he said as the carriage disappeared from view, “I suppose that is that.”

“I suppose yer right there.” He turned to Quill. There was one last thing he had to say, and it was important. “Quill, go home and see yer family.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Go home early and see them, Quill, I mean it.”

Quill at least had the decency to look at his hooves. “I suppose I can manage that after we sort out—”

“I mean it Quill, Equestria is bigger that you, it’ll keep going without you. Yer family? Not so much.”

Quill was silent for a moment. “Oh, very well,” he said at last. “And you, Captain?”

On any other day, a pony saying that would have gotten a dirty look. Whiskey was amazingly good at them, if he did say so himself. Not today though.

“Yer know Quill, after seeing them, five years…” Whiskey glanced at the corner where the pair of sisters had vanished from view. “I know it ain’t going to be easy, and it’s never going to be the same, but five years…

“Five years ain’t seeming so long any more.”

Luna waited for her in the Hall of Dusk and Dawn. Celestia ached to go to her. The scant time they’d had on the chariot ride back to Canterlot was not enough. Celestia ached to go to her, and perhaps feared to just as much, but there was one apology she had to get through first. The princess in her demanded it.

Slowly, she raised a hoof and knocked on the door of Twilight’s tower and waited.

From within there came a quick pattering of feet and the door popped open to reveal Spike.

“Oh, hiya, Princess. Here to see Twilight?”

“Indeed, if that wouldn’t be too much—”

“No trouble at all Princess,” Spike replied quickly. “Twilight, somepony here to see you!” He called back into the tower, then, without waiting for an answer, he scampered away with an excited: “Alright, break time! I’m getting me some ice cream.”

“Spike!” An indigo maned head popped through the door, beside which hovered an unrolled scroll. “Spike! What was that? You can have ice cream after we finished packing—” Twilight’s eyes widened in surprise and she hastily assumed a smile that looked physically painful “—Princess Celestia!”

“As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I’m afraid you cannot take me to Ponyville, Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia said, the good natured tease slipping out before she could think better of it. As of today she had no right.

“Oh, er, sorry, Princess,” Twilight said, but Celestia just shook her head and waved her back into the room with a wing.

The tower was a mess. Half the shelves were bare and the actual carpet was buried under a think carpet of literature. Celestia leaned over to look at the scroll and was was unsurprised to see it was a checklist.

“Twilight, are you packing books?” she asked.

“Just the essentials, Princess.”

Celestia paused a moment, unsure of where was safe to step next. She was forced to leave her forehoof dangling in the air.

“Twilight, I did mention that the Mayor was happy for you to move into the Ponyville Library full time, if that is what you wanted?”

Twilight glanced at the room, up at Celestia, then down at her hooves sheepishly. “Maybe I went a little bit overboard?”

Celestia smiled down at her student. “If you ever find you are missing a book, or anything really, just send for it and Canterlot will see that you receive it.”

“Thank you, Princess,” Twilight said, as nearby stacks of books began glowing magenta as they lifted themselves up to clear a proper place for Celetia to stand. “So, what can I do for you, your majesty?”

“I’m not here for that, not to ask something of you,” Celestia took a deep breath, and was suddenly unsure how to continue. “Twilight, I’m here to apologize.”

The floating stacks froze in place. Twilight turned from her work to face Celestia.

“Apologize, Princess? What for?”

“I...” Celestia resolved to simply get it out all at once. She had never been very good at this sort of thing. “I should have trusted you and your new friends from the start. You should have gone into the Everfree with an army at your back and a princess at your side. No, you shouldn’t have had to worry about any of this at all.”

“Princess?”

“I very nearly mishandled everything. Everything could have gone so wrong, even more wrong than it did. I would have led you all into danger. I—I thought to use you as tools, ask you only at the last moment when no reasonable pony would say no. Because I wanted Luna back so badly.”

The words slowed down, as Celestia stared into Twilight’s uncompehending eyes. Slowly, the piles of books lowered themselves to the floor.

“You didn’t let me, Twilight,” Celestia continued. “You were brilliant out there. Somehow you were always three steps ahead. But I thought about it, I planned it. I—” Empty skies, she was bad at this! “—I am sorry for that.”

She bowed her head. Silence. Resigned she looked up and prepared to leave.

Twilight’s mouth was hanging open and one foreleg was idly rubbing the floor.

“Um, I, yes,” Twilight said. “Um, what I mean is, I forgive you? If there is something to forgive, I mean. Which there might not be, but I’m not sure. Oh cripes. Should I start again?”

“Twilight?”

To Celestia’s surprise, she stepped forward and gave Celestia a repeat of the this morning’s nuzzle, although it was a few steps more awkward. “I forgive you, Princess,” Twilight said, having gathered herself. “But could-ya perhaps run that all past me again?”

Twilight’s horn lit up and a pair of pillows floated over. Wordlessly, Celestia lay down on hers and a moment later Twilight did the same. After a moment to collect her thoughts, Celestia relayed the events of the last few days as Twilight’s eyes slowly widened. She was concise, sticking to the important details: there had been a sane plan she had discarded, one that would never have involved Twilight; she had meant to put innocent ponies into danger, however slight; she had meant to use Twilight, and, worst of all, everything had gone wrong.

“You fought Thuban?” said a rather incredulous Twilight when Celestia finished. “As in, Alpha Draconis?" She blinked. "I’m–I’m never going to be able to look at the night sky in quite the same way again, am I?”

“I suspect not,” Celestia said, managing a wan smile. “The one thing I will never forgive myself for was risking Equestria, I don’t think I can ever be forgiven for that.”

“Princess...”

“No, Twilight,” Celestia said. “I know what I did, and what it would cost me. I don't need to make any anouncements today, or this year. I'm sure, In time, Luna will make a better ruler than me.”

“Well, maybe abdication would be appropriate if you had been reckless and foolish,” Twilight said. “But maybe it wasn’t foolish, but brilliant. Risky, true, but brilliant.”

Celestia regarded the pony in confusion, looking for the innocent filly from the maelstrom of purple and was surprised to find she wasn’t there anymore. In her place...

“Well, a smart, by-the-numbers, kind of pony might tell you that fighting Nightmare Moon a second time with the Elements of Harmony would be the safe option just because it worked before.”

Or the kind of pony who had become so weighed down in responsibility, she no longer took risks, forgetting that there was no such thing as a riskless option.

“But a really smart pony,” Twilight continued, “one who, say, got a little too obsessed with playing Go when she was a foal, would tell you that if you always open your game in the same way you just risk being predictable and getting outmaneuvered. Because it sounds to me like Thuban was prepared for you doing exactly what you did last time, and if you had done that, we might all be having to get used to living under eternal night about now. Instead, you hoodwinked him good.”

Celestia was vaguely aware that her mouth might just be hanging open. She shut it.

“Now, about the using us like tools and sending us into danger part? You said you were going to ask us, right?”

“Well, yes,” Celestia replied, “but no reasonable pony would have said no.”

“Because it would have been perfectly reasonable to say yes,” Twilight countered. “And you thought and planned a few things that weren’t good?”

“Yes, I did.”

“But did you actually do them?” Twilight asked.

“No but...”

“Then how do you know for sure you would have done them?” Twilight said. “If they really were bad, I don’t think you would have. And about the army?”

“You should have gone into the Everfree with a full complement of guards, properly equipped,” Celestia explained.

“Well, um, not that I don’t appreciate that, don’t think that would have worked out very well, Princess,” Twilight said. “Call it a feeling,” she added, glancing at her Mark, “but I think it had to be just us and the Everfree Forest. Remember: magic is as magic does, like they say.”

“I—” Celestia began her next protest, she was interrupted by a stray thought. “Twilight Sparkle. Did you just give me a lesson on magic?”

The unicorn let out a strangled, choking sound as her mouth began to move about wordlessly.

“Er, Princess, what I mean is—”

“Twilight Sparkle. I think you just gave me a lesson on magic.”

Mentor and student simply stared at each other, and for a moment Celestia found herself feeling as awkward as Twilight looked. Then, as one, they began to laugh, Twilight giggling and Celestia’s laugh being more rueful.

The weight of the prior days, months, and years, at long, long last, began to lift.

***

The door closed behind Celestia, leaving them alone. Even the Auspex Harenae had been shooed away, as technically illegal as that was. Between the celebration in Ponyville, their return to the palace, and her apology to Twilight, this was the first moment she had gotten to be alone with Luna.

She was here; her sister was really here. Not as phantom or as a memory. She was, truly, finally, here. Real.

Luna.

She stood in front of the circle of sandglasses, her expression unreadable.

I kept them. Everything. The sandglasses, the laws, the Auspex. I vetoed every change and amendment they proposed to the cycle, every little appeal for more daylight, until they even forgot such things could be changed.

She looked so small. Was her face different? Had Celestia become so used to looking at the few surviving portraits that she had forgotten what her sister really looked like?

Their gazes met. Celestia had no words. What could she possibly say? Her mouth hung open.

Neither moved first. Some signal passed wordlessly between them and before there had been time for any thought they both crashed together in the space halfway between where they had stood. Celestia’s forelegs wrapped themselves greedily around Luna as her sister’s did the same.

I shall never love the night. It is all that I am not. Dark, menacing, alien. And you, in turn, shall never love the day. This is a thing that comes between us. That shall always be the truth, until the end of days.

Her head fell over Luna’s shoulder and she squeezed fiercely into the embrace as tears flowed freely.

Then let it be the smallest of truths. The most trivial. Let it be a single footnote in the library of us.

I shall never truely love the night, but I shall always love you.

Part 1 – A Heart of Eggshells

By their age alone, rooms such as the Hall of Dusk and Dawn acquired a sense of deep consequence far removed from any actual material grandeur. In the case of the hall itself, ponies entering it would find themselves speaking in hushed tones as more than a thousand years of history swallowed their words. If one looked back far enough, the knotted tangle of customs and laws of Equestria all wrapped around this room and its purpose. Only one pony still remembered that the hall had once simply been a hall—a serviceable place to meet others, a shelter against the winter cold, or perhaps four sturdy walls to contain a celebration of some joyful occurrence—and nothing more.

As she did every morning before sunrise, Princess Celestia of Equestria, Daymare, Dawnbringer, and Regent of the Moon stepped through the great arched doors on the west-facing side of the Hall of Dusk and Dawn, and made her way over the stone floor, its surface made uneven by hundreds of years of hooffalls, to a dark wood booth where the on-duty Auspex Harenae would be waiting. This morning it was Autumn Fern, a middle aged stallion with a brown coat and dusty mane.

“Good morning,” Celestia greeted him, as usual.

“Good morning,” came the reply, as usual.

In the centre of the room was a round, stone table, worn with age. About its circumference sat exactly three hundred and sixty five sandglasses of various sizes, each with its own little brass plaque upon which were written two dates. By the laws of Equestria, the lengths of the day and the night were determined by these sandglasses. Each would be flipped twice a year, once at the start of a day and once at the start of a night. Sand flowed from the night bulb to the day bulb in one of the glasses. Examining it, Celestia estimated that ten minutes of night remained.

“How did Sandy do on his exams?” Celestia asked the Auspex.

“Aced woodworking, of course,” Fern replied. “The rest were a bit of a mixed bag.”

Sandy was Fern’s son, an apparently precocious youth who Celestia knew much of, yet had never met. She followed his life through little morning conversations with Fern such as this one. Fern was a second generation Auspex; Celestia remembered hearing about his birth from his father, but she understood that Sandy had unearthed a passion for carpentry and was unlikely to follow in his father’s hoofsteps.

The Auspex Harenae were an old institution. They had only a single responsibility, but it was an important one: watch the sandglasses and remind the on-duty sun-raiser or moon-raiser when the time came for them to do their job. A job for an alarm clock, some might argue, but with so much riding on the sunrises and sunsets, only a living, breathing pony would do.

Besides, the Auspex Harenae were too deeply ingrained in the traditions of sunrise and sunset at Canterlot Palace to get rid of, and were popular with the tourists. They dressed in their own archaic-looking uniform last redesigned some six hundred years ago, had their own traditions, and were rumoured to practise an initiation ceremony that they thought kept secret even from her—it involved a toothbrush, a lampshade, and much drinking, incidentally.

“Sleep well?” Fern asked in turn.

No.

“As well as can be expected.”

The true answer didn’t fool Fern. The Auspex shifted uncomfortably, perhaps expecting an elaboration that Celestia didn’t give. Instead, she made a show of checking the sand in the nightglass.

“Em, eight minutes ‘til sunrise,” Fern supplied a little hesitantly.

There was no more conversation after that. It took all of Celestia’s considerable supply of self control not to fidget or check either the sandglasses. To not look at that one sandglass.

You’re starting to crack. Your own guards are noticing. Fern notices. Only a matter of time before everypony knows Princess Celestia is terrified of something.

So she would tell them. Today was the day. She’d left it far, far too long anyway.

“Thirty seconds to sunrise,” Fern said.

Celestia nodded, levitating the next sandglass round the great circle of sandglasses that made up the year as Fern counted down the seconds.

As the last of the sand fell from the nightglass, Celestia spun the next glass around. The click it made as she placed it back on the stone table echoed through the empty room. She stepped over to the balcony on the Eastern side of the hall, past which the mountainside plummeted down to the planes that stretched out to the horizon.

The flipped sandglass still sat on the stone table, sand gently falling from the top bulb to the bottom.

Not far away, only ten places across, was the largest of all the glasses. The Greater Solstice Glass, that would be turned ten days from now to mark the beginning of the longest day of the year. A day that might never come because, according to the prophecies of Foresight, a creature thought gone, a creature that dared to call itself Nightmare would return to Equestria, and then there would no more sunrises.

Foresight had yet to be wrong about a single prediction. After all, the future had been his Talent.

Celestia raised the sun.

☼ ☼ ☼

It was midsummer in Equestria and the day promised to be as sweltering as any other. Of course, this meant that sunrise was scheduled around half four in the morning. The palace would be all but deserted for hours yet. The passageways looked different by the fresh morning light, without a soul about to clutter them up. Little motes of dust danced in the shafts of new sunlight Celestia passed as she made her way through to the western wing. Fears became muted in the wake of the morning and she felt more like herself. Soon, the day would fill up with duties and responsibilities as Equestria awoke, but early morning was hers.

Over the years she had noticed that the early morning acted as a filter of sorts. Many ponies wanted to meet with her. Oddly enough, few of those ponies were quite so enthusiastic about doing so this early. Harder to be seen meeting with me, promoted the more cynical side of her nature. The thought made her smile wryly. Some things would never change.

Still, the ponies she shared this time with were often ponies who were dear to her heart. Speaking of which…

“Good morning Spike,” Celestia called as she poked her head into the small drawing room tucked into the palace’s west wing. “I see you’re up early.”

Spike smiled proudly as he stood next to a server trolley upon which a breakfast of egg on toast served with tea and coffee sat.

“You brought some breakfast?” she asked.

“Made some breakfast,” the little dragon corrected her, as he puffed out his chest in a way she found most endearing. “I’ve been learning to cook from the chefs.”

Celestia inspected the dragon’s work. In truth, it didn’t look quite as good as her usual breakfast: the toast was slightly burned and some of the egg whites were a little runny, but right now that didn’t matter because upon seeing the food she found she was hungry. She thanked Spike and levitated one of the plates over. It was good, considering Spike's age.

“The coffee’s for Twilight,” Spike said, as he got started on his own plate. “I think she’s going to need it,” he added with a smirk.

Celestia raised an eyebrow.

“She was pretty stressed about something yesterday,” he explained. “She kept cursing at a book and pacing back and forth.”

“Oh my.”

“And every so often, her horn would glow a bit, but nothing would happen.”

“That must have been very frustrating for her.”

“Except once when I think she exploded just a little bit.”

“Goodness.”

“I went to bed after that.”

“You do need your sleep, Spike, you are still a baby dragon after all.”

“I think Twilight was up all night though,” Spike added, nodding at the coffee.

Celestia smiled. Little Spike was growing up to be such a dear.

“Between you and me,” Celestia said, after taking a sip of the tea, “I think Twilight has gotten a little too used to being able to just skim through spells that, by all rights, should take a unicorn the better part of a week to master, and go ahead and cast them right away. I gave her the teleportation spell to learn—Blink’s special talent. It’s one of the eight spells that are classically regarded as the hardest to understand.”

Blink had been a very confusing unicorn with the thrill-seeking temperament of a Wonderbolt, an at-times tenuous grasp of reality, and little in the way of scholarly tendencies. She had, sadly, left precious little written about her odd views of the world and her magic.

“I’m not expecting her to be able to teleport for years yet.”

Assuming they were all still around past the end of the fortnight, prompted a part of her she had been trying to ignore. She tried her best to silence it. Morning was a time for friends, not for worrying. Time enough for that later.

Even so, she shuddered.

“Yeah, I don’t think Twilight quite picked up on that,” Spike said, oblivious to Celestia’s sudden change in mood.

She blinked. “I did explain it was a hard spell,” Celestia added, forcing herself back to the present, “but it would be just like Twilight Sparkle not to listen.”

Outside the door, Celestia heard the clip-clop of a pony moving at a canter.

“Speaking of Twilight...”

The bleary eyed unicorn in question burst through the doors of the drawing room and glanced about. Unfortunately for Twilight, Celestia had taken a seat on a cushion pushed up against the same wall as the door, and in her haste, she somehow missed the presence of the Sun Princess entirely. Her student, bless her heart, just wasn’t one of nature’s morning ponies—a rather unfortunate situation given who her mentor was, Celestia observed wryly.

“Spike!” Twilight exclaimed. Her gaze settled on the trolley. “Breakfast!” she added enthusiastically, single words apparently being the present limit of her articulation.

“Oh thank Celestia! I thought I was late for my meeting with—” she paused slightly as her brain caught up with her mouth, “Celestia.”

Rather than answer, Spike raised a claw and pointed.

“Coffee?” Celestia asked, levitating the jug of foul tasting black liquid over to her tardy student.

With a panicked cry of “Pr—Princess!” Twilight jumped nearly her entire body height.

Celestia hid a smile as she sipped down the last of her tea.

☼ ☼ ☼

Twilight’s lesson had gone well enough once the unicorn had calmed down—and once Celestia had gotten the idea into her student that, no, she wasn’t expecting her to understand Blink’s talent right away. Then, all too soon, the eight o’clock bell rang, signifying breakfast time for the palace and the beginning of Celestia’s working day.

She hadn’t even made it to breakfast before the first of her worldly cares interrupted, this time in the oft-dishevelled shape of the oft-grumpy Captain Whiskey. The Old Captain, as many of the more junior members of the guard referred to him these days, was an earth pony with a dirty white coat and faded mane who wore armour that had seen better days. It was covered up now, but Celestia knew that underneath was an image of a lute, a fact that tended to surprise many of the new recruits.

“Yer Majesty,” Whiskey said, falling into step with Celestia as she proceeded down the wide vaulted hallway.

“Captain,” Celestia replied with a satisfied smile. “It seems that today everypony is rising early. Something I heartily approve of.”

“Well, I ain’t been up since the early hours for fun, yer know,” the captain grumbled, with a casualness that came of decades of commendable service and, perhaps more significantly, imminent retirement. “Er, no offence. Ma’am,” he added.

She let the smile fade. “Has there been a problem?”

“Sure has,” Whiskey replied. “We had an intruder last night. Or at least, we think we did.”

“You’re not sure?”

“Whoever it was, ‘twere a real slippery bugger,” the captain said. “We probably wouldn’t have known anything was wrong, ‘cept that Twiggy spotted a door open that shouldn’t have been. Lass had enough brains in her to get everypony searching. After that a few of the privates spotted whatever ‘twere already leaving.”

“It wasn’t a pony?”

“Don’t rightly know,” the captain shook his head. “Both of them claimed ‘twere some kind-a glowing thing with wings. Would-a thought that they’d been drinking, but just to be sure, I got some ‘corns to take a look and what do ya know, they tell me they found a lot of spell residue. I tell you, these are complications we don’t need right now.”

The pair arrived outside of Celestia’s private study where two watchful guards stood next to a catering pony with a serving trolley. At the sight of both the princess and the captain of the guard they straightened visibly, but Celestia only had eyes for the potential second breakfast.

“Thank you, I can manage from here,” she said to the caterer, who gave a quick bow before scampering off at a quick trot.

“So in short,” said the captain, who was also looking at the food enviously, “bugger had a bunch of magic and knew how to use it.”

Celestia turned back to Whiskey and considered what to do. Unfortunately, the coming solstice meant she already had too much to think about.

“Ordinarily,” she said, “I would treat this matter with the utmost seriousness, but due to the...” Celestia chose her next words carefully as the two guards were in earshot. “Imminent situation, I would ask you to delegate this matter to a capable pony. I would like to be kept up to date with anything you find.”

“Understood, ma’am,” Whisky said, saluting as he did so. He began to move, taking her words for a dismissal, but something screamed, faint and muffled, from within.

“One more thing, Whiskey,” Celestia added, feeling oddly detached. “Tell me, what do you make of Lieutenant Stonewall?”

Whiskey paused a moment, eyes rolling up as he pondered the unexpected question. “Stonewall? Very solid lad. Dependable. Has a decent brain in his head, which is rare enough these days.”

Solid lad. Dependable. And he had even received a commendation for that remarkable display of loyalty in the pursuit of duty a few years back. Maybe?

No.

Meanwhile Whiskey was still speaking. “Been grooming him a bit to perhaps replace me when I kick the ol’ bucket. Not made any final decisions yet.”

“You mean retire, surely?”

“Death? Retirement? Ha! Seem about the same to me, to tell the truth,” Whiskey said. “Oh, and while we’re on the topic, do me a favour, yer majesty, and make sure they don’t go telling everypony I’ve left to spend more time with my family. That ship sailed years ago.”

“I’ll… make a note of that request,” Celestia said, feeling a little confused. She wondered how much she didn’t know about her captain of the guard.

With that, Whiskey straightened himself up and executed a perfect military salute that would have made the most hard-hearted drill instructor cry from sheer joy. Then, with one last enthusiastic “ma’am”, trotted off.

She was going to miss Whiskey.

☼ ☼ ☼

It was nine o’clock sharp when Quill Scratch was shown into Celestia’s private study. Always punctual, that one. Quill was one of her Advisers, another old position that might sound a bit archaic in a world of modern government but unlike the Auspex, the role had evolved and changed with the times. There was no outdated uniform, Quill’s attire was sharp and thoroughly modern. The Advisers still provided advice, yes, but they often acted directly on her behalf as a liaison to the various departments of the wider government. Otherwise governing Equestria in these days would require her to be in several places at once.

Quill looked about the room which, Celestia had to admit, was currently in a bit of a state. To maintain secrecy, the cleaning staff had been barred access to her study for the last several months and it showed.

“Your Majesty,” Quill said, giving a perfect deferential nod.

“Ah, Quill,” Celestia greeted him. “We have a few more details to go over before this afternoon’s announcement about Nightmare Moon.”

It had taken a great deal of practise in front of a mirror to say that name calmly, but years of planning sessions with her most trusted senior staff members had hardened her… somewhat. Even now, she still found herself mentally adjusting her sentences to avoid having to say those words.

“I have full confidence,” Quill replied, surprising her, “in your ability to make the announcement in a manner that will reassure your ponies that, despite the gravity of the situation, everything is in hoof.”

Had uncertainty shown in her expression? Quill didn’t know the full truth. No pony did. No matter. She was ready. They had been making plans in secret for this, and today was the day that Celestia would make the general announcement to her staff. Tomorrow the guard would mobilise, the evacuation of potential battlefields would begin, and carefully worded press releases would be made.

In a way, everything would be easier after today. With the plans made all but public, there would be no going back. She would simply have to endure for ten days, coasting the waves of events as they unfolded and not thinking too much. After all this time, ten days wouldn’t be that long. And after that…

And after that... she didn’t know what would become of her.

But her ponies would be happy and safe.

☼ ☼ ☼

Princess Celestia sat impassively on the throne of Equestria. The events of the morning blurred together in her mind. She’d made it through on habit and reflex alone.

Around her, some her most trusted ponies on her staff began to file into the throne room. A few of them glancing about in surprise as they did so. The rows of pews that usually covered the floor had been moved aside. Mismatched tables and chairs from other parts of the palace now sat in their place. They were arranged in a rough square pattern that gave the hall the feel of an improvised war room, which, of course, was essentially the idea.

Making sure to keep her bearing composed, she collected her thoughts. A vile, evil creature was about to escape and threaten to cover all the world with darkness. They would deal with it in the most efficient manner possible. With stakes so high, there was no room for faltering of mercy. Celestia would lead the charge. Most of all, Celestia owed it oblivion for... taking... Luna...

That creature killed Luna, came the familiar mantra.

Presently, Captain Whiskey entered with four of his lieutenants: Stonewall, Shining Armour, Merryweather and Lodestone. Next were three of her senior advisers: Quill Scratch, Birchwood and Whitetail. They were followed in turn by various higher ranking aides and attendants.

The issue of the solstice. Why she was here. Focus on that.

Say it, came thought unbidden. If you can’t say it in your thoughts, how can you lead these ponies?

The issue of... the return of... Nightmare Moon... and how to deal with that vile creature who had killed her sister.

Deep within, something stirred disapprovingly. She thought it might be her link to the Element of Honesty.

Celestia allowed her eyes to close, listening to the rest of the ponies file in. Her left eyebrow itched but she remained outwardly still. Considering the news she was about to deliver, well, it wouldn’t do to be anything less than a picture of serenity.

You’re going to crack. This broke you before. Remember this morning’s Nightma—

Her bad dream. She refused to use that word in the manner it had come to be used by others. It had been a title of respect, once, given by her ponies to one who had protected them.

Her bad dream. Her bad dream.

Blinded by the darkness, she stumbled through an endless forest. Stray rocks and branches lined up to trip her while nameless malevolence filled the gaps between the trees. Somewhere out there her sister was hurting, badly.

She journeyed with five ponies: four faceless pegasi soldiers and a unicorn wearing white ceremonial vestments covered in sunbursts.

All her ponies were seated now. A few of them looked down at the sealed briefing packets placed on the tables. Merryweather and Loadstone were having to share, for some reason.

She heard her own voice. “This is an urgent meeting. Equestria is in grave danger...”

The camp had been set up. Celestia lay on a patch of grass, trying to sleep but failing. The darkness washed in towards her threatening to drown her. Fear wormed deeply into her chest and cut her breath short.

Suddenly desperate, she lit her horn and reached out beyond the horizon to lift the sun. She was refused. Faced with her own powerlessness, the living blackness flowed in through the gaps in the trees as if meaning to wrap itself around her limbs. Her legs began to visibly shake.

“There is good reason... there is good reason to believe that… that… There is good reason…”

She tore open her saddlebags with magic, taking out every single precious candle within. They floated about her as she lit every last one with magic. It wasn’t enough. She began rooting through the saddlebags of her companions, searching for more candles and discarding everything else. Within moments, she was surrounded in a meagre circle of flickering light. By the light of the tiny flames, she forced herself to breathe normally.

Calmness returned. She became aware of five sets of eyes watching her, the ponies that owned them wearing five expressions of utter shock. Celestia lowered her head and looked to the ground, too ashamed to meet their gazes.

Her bad dream. Save for a few details—Noonday, High Priest of the Sun Cult, should not have been there—it had been a real memory.

“Yer Majesty?”

“Princess Celestia?”

Her sister. It had been so long. Did she even remember what Luna’s face had looked like?

“Princess Celestia, is something wrong?”

She opened her eyes—she hadn’t remembered closing them—and was surprised to find them misty. Every single pony in the room was staring at her. Quill Stroke, Whitetail, and Whiskey were approaching up the steps to the throne, looking concerned. Yes, she had been saying something.

“There is good reason…”

What was wrong with her? Couldn’t she take this one, final step? How much more did she have to harden herself?

Feeling herself rise on unsteady legs, she heard herself say: “I am sorry, my ponies. But this meeting will have to happen another time. Perhaps tomorrow. I require… time, to consider matters. Please do not be alarmed.”

Lighting her horn, she brought forth memories of Blink, that strange, eccentric unicorn she had met eight hundred years ago. The world dissolved around her and became a field of wheat. Where, she wasn’t sure, except that Canterlot mountain still dominated the sky. A green earth pony in a brown hat gaped in shock as a piece of straw fell out of his mouth.

Celestia quickly wrapped herself in invisibility magic and took to the air. She needed time to fly under the light of her sun. She didn’t know where yet.

☼ ☼ ☼

Time had not been kind to the old castle. The Sun Princess huddled in what had once been a feast hall, wings wrapped around her body. It was modest in size compared to some of the grander venues in Canterlot but then, in many ways, times had been simpler when this place had been built. The ceiling was completely gone and the marble columns that held it up were cracked and broken, one having fallen completely over onto its side. The flora, both natural and unnatural, had all but claimed the room; ferns grew up though the stone floor, vines hung down the walls and tree branches grew through the remains of what had once been stained glass windows.

Celestia began walking slowly and aimlessly through the ruin, pausing frequently as some memory or other demanded her attention. Broken glass crunched under her hooves, though she paid it no mind.

All around was stillness. The Everfree was a dangerous place, but perhaps the monsters who lived here knew to at least not disrupt the sanctity of these halls.

Before her, sitting on a bizarre collection of plinths and platforms, joined together in a tree of tortured stone, were the five physical forms of the Elements of Harmony. With magic, Celestia cleared some of the debris away, so she could sit facing them.

“I know what I have to do,” she said softly, beginning her communion. It was never unambiguous, dialogue like this, but she felt that something heard her. “I just don’t know how to have the strength to do it.”

The stones were silent.

“When the creature that dares call herself Nightmare comes again, I will face her. Alone. For the good of all of Equestria. It is the only way. I—”

Celestia’s eyes were drawn to one of the orbs. Honesty. She couldn’t tell if the compulsion originated from the stone, or if it had been simply from within herself.

“You. Don’t you dare judge me. It is the only sane way. Luna is gone. The only way to stop the eternal night is to banish the creature again. Or kill it somehow. The creature killed Luna. Don’t you understand how important it is for me to believe these things? Won’t you allow me this one, small lie, if only to myself?”

She took a deep, calming breath.

“Please, you have guided me in the past. Show me how to—to freeze my heart and stop feeling. Whatever it will take.”

She felt a sense of… pity, almost? No, not quite. It was comfort, and assurances. An image came to mind—a translation of the abstract feeling, of a pegasus youth, out flying for the first time, lost, but at last found, wrapped under her mother’s wing.

She pulled away mentally and physically as if burned.

“I am no longer a carefree young foal, nor an inexperienced youth with only my own neck on the line. I am a princess of Equestria, responsible for the lives of millions. I cannot simply wait for a miracle. There is only one way that isn’t gambling with all those lives, and I must take it. I am not asking for pity, I am asking for strength.”

As before, the stones were silent. No means were offered.

“I made this bargain, long ago. Luna—” her voice cracked. “It was her, weighed against everything. I am called to prove myself a second time, but if it must be so then—”

She faltered, feeling the strangest sensation that she should look behind her.

It was the nature of the clouds of the Everfree forest to move on their own, restlessly shifting about. They always blanketed the sky thickly no matter the season, spreading perpetual gloom. But a tiny gap had opened to the blue sky beyond it through which a shaft of light fell on the ruined ground at her hooves.

Look up.

Celestia followed the shaft upwards to where it streamed through a broken window frame. There, at the very apex of the arch, was one single piece of stained glass.

It had endured, unbroken, a thousand years of weather, a thousand years of plant growth, a thousand years of the the attentions of the fauna. A thousand years without breaking to a hailstone. A thousand years without being stolen by a dragon.

While her ponies had invented the steam engine and constructed the first railways, it had endured. When explorers made the first contact with the Zebras, it had endured. It had endured through Polaris’s usurpation of Thuban as the north star. The great eastern migration of ponies. The death of the Dragon Ardusin. Through all this, it had survived.

Through the glass shone ancient symbol of the Mares of the Day and Night: a disc, half yellow, half blue, split by a waving line upon which twin stylised images of winged unicorns chased the sun and the moon, one white coated, one deep blue.

Sister, it seemed to say, I’m not dead yet.

“Ten days. I only have ten days.”

Her horn lit up. Golden crown, torc and horseshoes were thrown to the floor. They were heavy and she had a long flight ahead of her before sundown.

There were creatures in the world much older than the first sunrise, and she needed to speak with one.

Part 6 – A Mending

“I'm so sorry! I missed you so much, big sister!”