Blind Faith

by AlaskanKnight

Rating: teen
Tags: Alternate Universe, Sad, Adventure
Length: 8520

All is well that ends.

''One moment you're you, and the next you're you except somebody taken the happiness in you and set it on fire. You run around and around and around thinking you're happy but really you're trying to put off the crash that you know is coming next. Sometimes you even believe you've avoided it. Then, there it is. Even when nothing's wrong the shadow of the inevitability hangs over you…''

First pony-fic. Would certainly love any and all feedback. In fact, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, please do give me some feedback. It really does help.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-01-02 11:43:27 UTC

Chapter One - The Beginning

Chapter One

Two stallions sat together at a table in a fancy cafe in Canterlot.  They didn't look entirely out of place together, despite the often fancier dress of the local gentry.  One was younger in appearance:  He had a well-kept and neatly trimmed gray mane on a smooth and soft white coat.  Over that he wore a crisp pressed white lab-coat that covered up most of his body, including his cutie-mark.  His name was Mica and he was altogether unremarkable.  The other colt was older, an aged unicorn by the name of Fehler, though it was difficult to say just how old he was.  He also kept his white mane short (So as to reduce the effect of the strands of light blue, green, and pink that seemed to permeate it like so many gray hairs might invade the mane of a more wizened colt) which only seemed to accentuate the weathered appearance of his white horn. His coat was a rich, dark navy blue, with rings of dark purple around his ankles like the phantoms of shackles.  His cutie-mark was a simple, spectacular Lunar Eclipse.

The two sat together talking and sipping tea.

“Two Sisters created the world as we know it,” Fehler lectured.  “From them grew land, grew light, grew good and evil, grew life.  They understood land, they understood light, they could recognize and understand what good was and what twisted it to evil – they saw the line was blurred and grayed, but comprehensible.  However, the two sisters couldn't understand life.”

“You mean souls,” interjected Mica.  “What we perceive to be consciousness?”

“Not exactly,” replied Fehler.  “In making pony-kind in their image, the Sisters replicated the complex processes that allowed for what we perceive as consciousness to occur.  They copied limbic systems, the origin of fear and happiness and anxiety and love and a multitude of other emotions;  Adrenal Medullas were stimulated by emotion, intensifying, adding more color to life;  Cerebral Cortexes to process and store and process and relay signals for movement and constantly process, process, process; Cerebellums to make fine-tuned movements possible;  Wernike's and Broca's areas to give voice to the amalgam of hurt and pleasure that is existence...”

Fehler took sip of his tea as Mica clarified his confusion.  “You mean they didn't understand what makes us work the way we do?”

Fehler nodded.  “Exactly.  They knew what consciousness was, just not where it lived or what gave rise to it.  We know of all these parts now, we finally understand them after long centuries of research; Neither the older or younger sister understood any of these things, and the infinite complexities they could produce or the infinite chemical processes that drive them.  I think they had no inkling of the raw power of what they were creating.  They simply knew that they had power, and they intended to use it to create a world free of quarrel and strife.”

“And then they created the world, right?  What we live in now?  They created the trees, the animals...”  Mica trailed off as he noticed the look of discontent on Fehler's face.

“No, Mica.  What they created was a burst of intense emotion.  Pent up energies exploded outward into nothing and arbitrarily took on laws to govern their behavior.  For a long while the pair could only watch as matter took shape, compressed, exploded, burned...  Equestria started as a rock.  It took billions of years and thousands of improbable happenings for it to look like it does, much less for life to occur.  No, they didn't intentionally create the world as it is.”

Mica looked at this older pony, thinking.  “How in Equestria could you possibly prove this?”

Fehler smiled.  “I hope I never do.  I don't think it is something most ponies need to know.  Frankly, I think that if disseminated right now that information would shatter Equestria.  I know you want to know, but you'll just have to take it on faith.  For now, at least.”

“Alright.”  Mica thought a moment longer, then demanded, “At least tell me how you tie into this.  Grant me that knowledge, at least.”

Fehler nodded in concession.  “It's not a very complex relationship.  I've known Celestia and Luna longer than any other being alive, I believe.  I was granted their curse of immortality when they created me however many eons ago.  Tied with that was the shroud of infertility – I will never be able to have children.  I was the only thing that the two Sisters created on purpose, and every part of me stems from them, much in the way a child shares the genes of its parents.  They're both infertile; so am I.

“They copied everything, even their knowledge and memories.”  Fehler became silent for a moment, his eyes cast down toward the table.  Then he said in a soft voice, almost a whisper,  “Believe me when I say that I know, even if it does sound impossible.”

The pair were both quiet for a moment, and the noise of the cafe washed over them as they thought.  Fehler looked up, and watched the other ponies in the cafe.  Across the patio a white unicorn with a silky purple mane sat talking to her cat.  Above her a rural pony washed windows, trying to work his way toward a better life where he didn't remember each previous day.  After all, 100-proof Applejack was cheap in the right parts of town.  His attention came back to the conversation at hand as Mica drew a deep breath.

“I believe you,” the young scientist conceded, “I believe that they created you directly, not necessarily that they didn't create everything on purpose.  I don't know why, but I do.  Did they name you?”

“No,” Fehler replied.  “I named myself when I found a name that described me well enough.  I am not going to tell you what it means, not now.”

“Alright.”  Mica accepted that.  He looked thoughtful for a moment, then asked, “But why tell me?  What do you need from me?”

Fehler looked Mica in the eyes.  “What I need from you is dedication and assistance in a research project.  The other day I received a visit from out dear Princess Celestia.  She wants to know where magic comes from and how it works.”

Mica looked taken aback.  “You must be kidding.  How can she not know?”

“Imagine that,” Fehler snorted.  “A Goddess that doesn't know everything.  The being that created me and created the universe as we know it doesn't know what it was that allowed her do it.”  Fehler sighed and laid his head down on the table.  “Some years I don't know whether I'm living out a comedy or a tragedy.”

The two were quiet again.  At some point the white unicorn had left, which was a shame – Fehler had enjoyed watching her.  Had he been allowed to die, and had he been able to reproduce...  Probably, he thought, her leaving had something to do with the window-washer falling from his post.

“I'll do it,” Mica said suddenly.  There was a look in his, much like that of a religious zealot.  “I want to know something the Goddesses never have.”

Mica had what Fehler did not:  Immediate access to surgery suits and other state-of-the-art technologies.  Fehler could procure them given due time, but he didn't want to take the time.  Celestia wanted answers now, which meant Fehler needed answers now, if not for her sake then for his own.

The first step was to examine what happened when a unicorn used magic.  This was simple enough – reversing a gem-finding spell and casting it on a rough matrix of gems had allowed ponies to see magic being cast for several years, at least.  Creating a larger, finer matrix and combining it with new photo technologies then provided the solution to watching what happened before and after any spell was cast.

It was as Fehler and Mica were setting up this first experiment that Mica asked where ponies came from.  “If the Princesses created you and only you, then where did the rest of us come from?”

Fehler was silent for a moment as he positioned several cameras.  Finally he said, “Would you believe me if I told you that pony-kind came about purely by chance?”

Mica looked perplexed and a little disturbed.  “How do you mean, 'by chance'?”

“Here, finish setting up the equipment and I will tell you,” Fehler ordered, handing him several gem matrices as he did so.  “As I said, it was purely by accident.  In fact, all life arose purely by accident.  Like I told you, the body that Equestria lies on started out as nothing more than a hunk of rock drawn together by gravity.  Before that it was star dust and other various debris floating around in space.  Once our planet was formed it stayed like that for a long time.  It underwent all manner of processes, churning and erupting in massive volcanic events that spewed out gasses faster and faster until eventually an atmosphere formed.”

“You mean the air we breath?” Mica interrupted.

“Yes and no.  These gasses were poisonous.  The air we breathe is not – It is comprised of different elements entirely.  I, of course, didn't witness the event that resulted in life.  Perhaps it came to us on one of the hundreds of thousands of meteors and other large space objects.  Perhaps it started when the oceans were jumbles of rough chemicals being struck every other moment by lightning in fierce electrostatic storms.  Whatever the case may be microscopic life began to form, simple single-celled organisms and free-floating organelles.  These organisms began to feed on toxic gasses in the air, creating oxygen and other gasses as a result.  It was marvelous to watch, even if they were painfully slow.  Eventually they evolved into multi-cellular creatures, and then into plants and animals and so on.”

“But where did ponies specifically come from?  Surely we didn't just go from single-cells to entire ponies,” Mica objected.  “And how come you look so like us?”

“Well, I must admit that there may have been some bias in nature's tendency to select our certain specimens over time,” Fehler said.  “The sisters weren't the only ones to feel lonely.  I had hoped that I could create a family by forcing the evolution of species in a certain direction.  Intelligence came early, but the right physical body took time.”

Mica looked perplexed.  “How does one force evolution in one direction or another..?”

“That's enough talk for now.”  Fehler lay down on the gurney.  “Are you ready?  Just take pictures as I levitate the chair.”

Progress moved fairly rapidly.  The machines worked just as predicted, and after some time and tests on multiple subjects the pair of ponies proved the existence a network within the head of unicorn that lit up just before they performed magic.  As was to be expected the network terminated at the horn, where the energies concentrated.

This would have stayed the answer to such a simple question, except a replication of the experiment with more sophisticated cameras revealed that even in the absence of magic the network was always slightly active in all unicorns.  A few more tests showed that the network both existed and was active in earth ponies and pegasi as well.

The question then was why?  This had both ponies stumped for several days until Fehler posited that “Perhaps the answer lies in twins.”

“Twins?” Mica asked.  “What do twins have to do with anything?”

“In twins of different specie (Pegasi and Earth Pony, Earth Pony and Unicorn, Unicorn and Pegasi),” Fehler explained, “there is an interesting phenomena to be observed:  When one twin is hurt the other knows, despite any physical barriers.  I have reproduced multiple events in the past where when one twin was cut with a knife and the other reported that there sibling was in danger, regardless of the fact that they were separated by many many miles.  The opposite is true as well – When one is happy, the other is as well; When one is sad, so is the other; When one is aroused, the other also feels arousal.  Indeed, a ground-bound pony can recite back perfectly the feeling of freedom associated with flight when their pegasus twin is engaged in the activity.  I imagine that we would find an excited state of the magical network to be observed in both subjects in every case, were we to test.”

The two pondered this as they sat at their seats in the cafe during their lunch break.  Fehler idly hoped the white unicorn would come back, but she never did.  Mica poked at his food then said, “If that proved true, then what if these networks also act on a sub-conscious level to communicate?  I know it sounds silly, but sometimes feelings can be palpable.  For example, I walked through the streets the night Nightmare Moon came back and the tension really was palpable.  Even though the ponies didn't know what had happened they knew something had happened, and everybody was nervous.  The same goes for funerals – grief is palpable.”  He stopped for a moment.  “I guess it really does sound silly, but that's all I've got.”

“No.  It doesn't sound silly at all.  It sounds plausible.”  Fehler looked pensive for a moment.  “If ponies are so intrinsically connected it would explain how two ponies on opposite ends of equestria may have the same idea at the same time without having ever previously met.”

Fehler looked Mica in the eye.  “If this turns out to be true you can't tell anypony.  Come, we have to get back to work.”

Later that same week, one month after the first meeting in the cafe, Fehler found himself sitting in his garden in a remote corner of the palace grounds.  The night was balmy, warm and humid with the backdraft of moisture from the great waterfall.  The plants were all well-kept, the weeds trimmed but also allowed their share of life, and the local vermin all had their homes provided for.  Everything needed a home of some sort, Fehler reasoned.  If he didn't provide it then who knew where they might end up.

Looking up at the bright stars and the orange crescent moon Fehler remembered a conversation he had once had with Luna.  He had been sitting on the apex of a grassy hill one summer night with his head resting on his forehooves, before there had been an Equestria or a Griffin Kingdom or even ponies and griffins.  Even dragons, as old as they were, had been new to the world.

Luna had walked up behind him very silently and stretched out next to him, mimicking his prone position playfully.  He had looked over, smiled half-heartedly, and looked back out over the hills.  Luna had sighed and said, “You're like my sister like that.”

“How do you mean?” Fehler had asked, turning toward her a little.  “I'm like her how?”

“Sometimes you become very quiet.  You won't talk or laugh or smile or even really respond to anything.  It's hard to get you to move, even.”  She sighed again.  “Then, other times, you're full of a frightening energy.  I want to enjoy it when it happens, but it's just so much.  It tires me immensely, so I don't know how you two can bear it.”

Fehler turned away and didn't reply.  In the distance a bird chirruped angrily in the night.

“It hurts, you know,” Luna finally spat out.  “It hurts to watch.  I can see that you're both in pain and I can't do anything about it!  I feel helpless.”

Fehler had thought about this and had then rolled over so that he was curled up against Luna's flank.  “It's hard to describe,” he'd finally said.  “One moment you're you, and the next you're you except somebody taken the happiness in you and set it on fire.  You run around and around and around thinking you're happy but really you're trying to put off the crash that you know is coming next.  Sometimes you even believe you've avoided it.  Then, there it is.  Even when nothing's wrong the shadow of the inevitability hangs over you...”

“How badly does it hurt?”

“It's the worst feeling imaginable.  There are days where I would like to kill myself rather than keep going,  Even then, I just don't have the energy.  All I can do is keep breathing and eating, barely.  I look at you sometimes and think, 'How did she get so lucky?  It must be nice to be so normal.'”  He paused a moment, then whispered:  “Sometimes I hear things that aren't there.  Sometimes I see things that aren't there.  It used to scare me, but these days...  These days I'm just used to it.  I'm dying and I'm watching myself die and I don't know that I even care any more.  I just wish it would happen.”

Luna had wrapped her wing around him then and laid her head in the grass.  “You're just like my sister.  But at least you let me take care of you.”

Fehler had cried himself to sleep for no other reason than because he hurt.

Looking back on it Fehler found the importance of that short conversation making itself even more immense, even more so than when it had caused the royal falling-out a thousand years ago.  If Celestia suffered the same things that he did, including the hallucinations and manic periods, did he really want her knowing about that extra level of communication that tied every pony together?  She was the one pony with the power to possibly effect it.  Telling her was dangerous.

The gate into Fehler's garden was old and thick.  He had carved it out of oak over a century ago during a very calm summer – it had been his way of coping with the nine-hundredth year of Luna's absence.  It was no small happening, then, when the gate crashed down in a hail of splinters.

Standing there was an unkempt looking Celestia, to say the least.  Her mane, normally regal and flowing, was draped around her neck and head like so many transparent wet rags.  He coat was mussed, dirty, and bloody.  Several large splinters stood out on her chest and forelegs from the recent gate-smashing, and fresh crimson trailed down from them.  Her whole body shook with a nervous energy.

“Celestia,” he said calmly.  He didn't feel calm.  In fact, Fehler wanted to explode with fear.  Celestia hadn't been this bad in – well, in almost a millennia and two years.  “Come lie down with me.”

“No!” she spat.  Then the movement began.  She was going around the garden almost faster than Fehler could keep track of.  Paving stones cracked, leaves were torn from plants, petals spilled across the dirt.  “I can't stop. I can't stop.  I can't, I can't, I can't.  If I stop moving I'll die, I swear it, and I don't want to die, I don't I don't I don't-”

“Celestia.”  Fehler had stepped in her path.  She could have trampled him, but she didn't.  “I know what it feels like.  But you have to stop and talk to me.  Please, talk to me.  Tell me what set it off this time.”  There was always something.  Always.  Any little thing that just made a pony snap...

“I was in the court...” Celestia began.  “I was in the court and I saw two nobleponies fighting.  I don't know what they were fighting about.  I just saw that they were fighting and.  And.  And.  I saw that they were fighting and it was just more than I could take.  I don't know.  I felt myself falling down and I started moving and I can't stop moving and it's just more than I can take!”

Celestia collapsed and began sobbing;  Fehler's heart broke more than a little.  Fehler, feeling strangely composed and cold inside, knelt down by Celestia's head.  He said the only thing he could think to say.  “I've figured out what causes magic, plus a little more...”

A wide, wet eye turned toward him, curious.  The tears didn't stop entirely, but they quieted down just enough for Fehler to be able to talk.

“It's nothing too significant.  There's some sort of network in every pony that captures a sort of energy and directs it into magic.  I don't know exactly how it works yet, but...  It doesn't work just during magic.  It's always running.  We- I mean, I think that on some sort of sub-conscious level every pony is communicating with others.  Feelings of happiness, joy, fear, anger...  All of it.”

Celestia didn't say anything.  She didn't say anything at all.  The two lay there for not even the Goddess knew how long, Celestia's head in Fehler's forehooves, until they both fell asleep.

Fehler slept fitfully, vividly dreaming.  At one point a distorted Celestia whispered, “If feelings can be transmitted with it then feelings can be changed with it.  I'm sorry, dear son.  I'm going back to happier times.”  When Fehler awoke Celestia was gone and a pale sun hung in the sky, as if it were being seen through fog.  It hadn't been a dream.

Celestia was gone.

Fehler and Mica met at the cafe like they did every morning.  This morning was different, though – Mica knew that as soon as he saw Fehler sitting there looking as if he had been up all night.

“What's wrong?” Mica asked as he came up to the table.

“I told the Princess what we found,” Fehler answered.

Mica looked worried.  “Ah.  How did she take it?”

“I wouldn't know.  She disappeared.”  Fehler stood up.  “I think she's going to try and manipulate that sub-conscious layer of communication in order to force ponies to stop fighting, and I don't think that any good can come of tinkering with something we don't understand.”  He nudged a scroll across the table toward Mica.  “I'm going to go track her down.  If I don't contact you in the next two days then take this to Luna.  The seal will get you into the palace.  Once you have done that you can collect your pay and get on with your life.”

“I'm not coming with you?” Mica objected.  “You can't just go after her alone.  It's not fair!  We both discovered this!”

“I need you to stay here and deliver that scroll if you don't hear from me because Luna needs to know what is happening.  What you do with your life after that isn't up to me.”  Fehler stood up and looked Mica in the eye.  “You're a good pony.  It's been good working with you.”  With that he turned to leave.

“Wait!  You can't go without telling me about your name.  You promised me you would tell me about your name.”  Mica was pleading with Fehler.  He had found a friend in this pony rather than simply a colleague.

Fehler stopped long enough to make good on his promise.  “It's from a tribe of ponies who speak a language different from ours.  It means 'mistake.'”

The sun had risen slowly the next morning in the long-forgotten forever ago, painting everything with momentary beauty.  The light of it had been intense and had shone through the edges of the wing covering Fehler, waking him up.  He hadn't move for a several long moments, letting himself enjoy the warmth next to him, but after a moment he nuzzled his way under Luna's wing so that he could see the sun rising.

“It's beautiful.  It's always beautiful,” Luna had commented sleepily.

“That's what it's like,” Fehler told her.  “It hurts and it hurts and it hurts more than anything ever should.  It hurts so much that you can't move from the weight of it, but when you do act you put everything you have left into it for beauty's sake.  There has to be something beautiful in your life, or you'll lose all the tethers to the world that you have left, and then...  Then you just let go and jump off the cliff.”

Luna had hushed him and laid her head against his.  “Go back to sleep.  You won't be flying any time soon, beautiful.”

Fehler had almost rebuked her but had managed to catch himself before he said something he regretted.  Instead he had curled back up next to her and whispered, “Maybe one day you can teach me how to fly.”

It had been an offer more than anything.  He would fly one day, whether she wanted him to or not.  He had always known that.  He would fly far and fall further, and he would die free of himself.

Calm Before The Storm

Chapter Two

“Do you believe in something higher,” Celestia asked.  “Something more than us?”

Fehler cocked his head at her.  Celestia hadn't said anything for the last two months and had moved even less, barely drinking anything much less eating anything.  Fehler had been keeping an eye on her, trailing behind her whenever she did go somewhere.  Today she had wandered down into a copse of towering pine trees and was stepping aimlessly across the carpet of needles.

“I'm not sure I understand the question,” he conceded, finally.

The elegant, broken alicorn slumped down against root mound of a particularly massive tree almost as wide as she was.  “Where did we come from?  What created us?”

Fehler sat down next to her and said, “Well, I was created by you and Luna.”

Celestia snorted angrily.  Small tendrils of sickly light leaked from her horn and the plants around her began to wilt, though she seemed entirely unaware of it.  “Then what about me?  Where did I come from?”

“I don't know,” Fehler admitted.  “What is the first thing you remember?”

“I don't know,” Celestia screamed out, the trees creaking and groaning in dumb sympathy.  “I can't remember anything.  I've always just... I've always just been.  I've always just been an idea.  I'm not sure that I'm even real.”

“An idea?  How can somebody be an idea?”  Fehler was genuinely confused by the thought, and was taken off guard.  He had no answer to that.  He had always believed that a pony is a pony, not an abstract thing.

The one reaction Fehler hadn't expected to his question was for Celestia to spit.  The gob of phlegm landed at his feet, smoking slightly in the chill air.  “It's really very easy.  You were an idea before you were a pony.  Luna had an idea and then we created you.  Really, if you think about it, you are just a part of me.”

Slowly, carefully, Fehler lay his head down on the floor of needles.  He was just an idea.  What did that really mean to him, for him?  It meant, he realized, that he was not his own pony.  He was simply an extension of the two forces that created him, and his only saving grace was that he knew both the minds that he, as an idea, had come from.  Celestia, he realized, had no such luxury.

Surely, though, she couldn't have always existed.  With a pang of guilt Fehler realized he should know the answer to that question already.  He did have half her memories, after all.  He concentrated hard, desperately trying to dredge something up from that part of his mind that he never visited and usually studiously ignored.  Then there it was-

No body, no sound, no sight, no smell, no senses of any kind.  No time to mark the movement from one moment to the next.  Everything stretched on infinitely.  There was nothing for one to do but think and there was no way to keep from doing that.  Every moment the sensation hung about that thoughts and ideas and memories were slipping away so fast that one could have had them all a billion times over and not remember.  How could one possibly keep track of the beginning and the present and the future when the only thing that could perhaps mark a difference was the growing pressure that was filling up nowhere with nothing until suddenly nothing caved in on itself and-

Fehler vomited.  Celestia laughed bitterly at his reaction.  “Now you get it!  Oh, what's the matter, was it just too much for you?  Poor thing.”

There was nothing to say, Fehler realized.  How long had she been exposed to that sort of torment?  Who was she?  What was she?  For that matter, what was he?

“Really,” she mused, “The only way to be completely certain that there is time, and that I'm not glued into one moment of existence for forever is probably to burn myself up until there's nothing left.  Maybe then I'd stop thinking and I could finally know.”

“No,” Fehler gasped.  “Stop.  You can't do that.”

Celestia sneered at him.  “Can't I?  You're right, though, fire wouldn't leave anything behind to rot as proof that I beat it.  I have always thought that throats looked vulnerable, though.  Maybe if I were to take a very sharp rock and force it through until-”

“Stop it,” Fehler shouted.  “Are you so selfish that you'll just bring me into life and then go away?  You think you hurt not knowing what created you?  Imagine what it would feel like to know what created you and know that you weren't good enough to keep them around.”

Celestia visibly wilted at this outburst and the plants around her drooped doubly so.  “But it hurts.  It hurts so much.”

“I know that,” Fehler told her.  “After all, you are a part of me.  I know very well what it feels like.  You gave it to me.”

The white goddess looked dumbfounded, as if she had never considered that she might have passed on her own disease to Fehler.  “Oh, no, no, please no.  You're lying.  You have to be!”

“No.”  Fehler picked himself up off the carpet of needles.  “I don't have patience for this.  If you decide to stop being such a self-centered monster you'll be able to find me, I'm sure.”

He left and Celestia held her head in her forehooves crying, “No, no, no, no, no...”

Some things were better forgotten, Fehler decided.  Sometimes both parties acted selfishly, poorly, and it didn't behoove anybody to dwell on what happened because of it.  He thought this as he regarded the acre of twisted, blackened, dead growth in the Everfree forest.  It was remarkable in that the dead life it contained was vastly different from the life that now flourished locally all around it – it looked as if everything there had died some tens of thousands of years ago and never rotted or decayed or been replaced.  It was regarded as a cursed area by all the locals.

Fehler had tracked Celestia here with ease, and there was a lot of proof of her having recently visited.  The dusty hoof-prints through the carpet of black ash, the alicorn-sized depression where she had probably slept for a few hours, the rain-like pattern her tears had made as she had lain there...

The real question wasn't whether or not she'd visited there.  Rather, where had she gone after that?  Fehler was adept at tracking but Celestia was unpredictable and could fly or teleport at will, making his job all the more difficult.  With a sigh he trotted around the perimeter of the dead space for the third time, looking for any clue as to where she might have gone next.

He found it on his sixth trip around, nearly four hours after having arrived – there, in the undergrowth, was a mess of broken branches and plant stalks.  More likely than not, he realized, Celestia had flown a short distance before taking off again through the cursed, warped forest.  If he had paid attention earlier rather than dwelling on unhealthy memories he probably would have noticed patterns in the ash consistent with a pony, albeit a large one, taking flight.

He mentally berated himself as he continued on.  The trail now led north, so he moved north in turn, wary of what he might find.  Already this trip had turned up two things that had disturbed Fehler:  The first was a basilisk lying in an open clearing, awake and alive but completely passive and unresponsive to outside stimuli.  It was breathing, and it had been aware of Fehler, but it hadn't seemed to care even when Fehler had looked it in the eyes.  The second had been a marked increase in the size of the dead zone – it was nearly fifteen feet wider now that it had been even a year ago, a change that appeared to be fairly recent – the newly dead matter was still green, if not wilted and decaying, rather than black and completely gone.

He tried to remember what he had done after he had left these woods.  It had not been that long ago, maybe twenty thousand years at the most, but the memory evaded him.  That wasn't surprising – events even a month past quickly became hazy before disappearing altogether, leaving only an impression of what had happened.  It was like throwing rocks and gems at soft clay: everything leaves a mark and some random few stick there permanently, regardless of value.

Fehler nickered at himself.  Getting lost in thought would never find the princess.

Mica was worried.  The 48-hour mark since Fehler's departure was drawing near and there were whispers among Canterlot's populace that Celestia had disappeared.  Being the fair ruler of Equestria and a common sight among the people her presence really was sorely missed.

For the past two days Mica had come back to the cafe and spent the days waiting, subsisting on tea and pastries from a nearby bakery.  The scroll had always sat with him, ominous, foreboding.  More than anything he wished he could just burn it and pretend he didn't have anything more significant to do than keep researching.  He was a research pony, not a diplomat, not royalty, not a stallion with social skills; the thought of having to show up at Luna's feet and say, “Oh, well, here you go, this should explain everything, apparently,” was enough to make Mica nervous to the point of nauseousness.

He shivered, his coat casting off the moisture of the morning's dew.  Canterlot was chilly today, and the sun seemed to lack the warmth to cast off the mist that was lingering over the streets, streets that were largely empty thanks to the early hour.  It was six in the morning.

The cafe owner arrived and nodded amiably to Mica.  “The same as usual, I take it,” he asked, yawning as he unlocked the storefront.

“Yes, please,” Mica replied.  The owner hadn't minded Mica's constant presence the last two days and, if anything, had been a good distraction during the slower hours of the day when he would sit with the stressed scientist and talk about simple nothings.

One more hour according to the clock-tower down the way, one more hour and he would have to go to Luna.  He hadn't told Fehler he would, but he knew that he didn't really have a choice.  Fehler was Mica's friend, and friends didn't let friends down.

The old cafe owner came back out levitating two cups of tea.  She was an unassuming old mare with a tea-leaf green mane and a gray body and, unsurprisingly, a tea bag for a cutie-mark.  She gave one cup to Mica and sat down across from him, sipping her own tea thoughtfully.  “Well, what will it be this morning?”

Mica gave her a look that suggested he thought she might be getting a bit too old for her own good.  “I have my tea already.  Unless there's nothing in my tea bag...?”

“No, silly.”  She chuckled to herself.  “I mean, would you like me to ramble on about things again, like I have been, or would you like to talk about what's been bothering you these last couple of days?”

“Bothering me?  Goodness, you must be mistaken.  I've just had nothing to do with myself.”  Mica glanced at the clock-tower again and licked his lips, worrying.

“Come now, don't lie to me,” the old mare berated.  “Fehler has been coming here as long as I've had a cafe, I know that he gets into trouble sometimes.  You're not the first pony he's had worked up over some thing or another.”

Mica looked at her in surprise.  He had never considered that Fehler might have used this place before they had started their research project together.  He looked down at his tea and let out a long sigh.  “He ran off two days ago.  Since he's not back I have to bring that scroll to Princess Luna because it means he hasn't found Princess Celestia yet.”

“Ah,” she said.  Nothing more, nothing less.

Mica frowned at her.  “Ah?”

“Oh, I'm sorry, dear.  It's nothing I haven't heard before.  Celestia has always been a handful for the poor stallion.”  She paused.  “Are you nervous about having to meet one of the princesses?”

“Well, to be honest, yes.”  Mica tried his tea and found it wasn't too hot.  “Which is just ludicrous.”

“Well, royalty usually is ludicrous, isn't it?  Don't worry, Luna's a kind mare, even if she does have a temper.  If Fehler trusts her to meet little old me then I'm sure you will be fine.”  She watched Mica look over at the clock-tower again.  “Best you don't put it off any longer, don't you think?  The world isn't going to wait for you to act.”

Mica downed the rest of his tea in a single gulp, prompting a smile from the curious old owner.  “I suppose you're right.  Well, I guess I'd best be off.  Places to go, Princesses to cavort with...”

“That Fehler,” the mare said to herself as Mica trotted off, “is always getting mixed up in the most curious of things with the most curious of people.”

This was a bad situation.  Fehler knew it was bad as soon as he saw the lake and the city beneath it.  The lake was called The Graveyard because of a great winter battle that had been fought on it many centuries ago when a small town had lived on its shore.  The town had been burned down, but not before the lake had swallowed the attacking force.  Popular legend had it that if a pony went swimming there the dead would grab them and keep them forever.

In reality any ponies who had drowned had gotten caught on the thick plant growth that blanketed the shallows of the lakebed, and the darkest parts of the lake were well over six hundred feet deep and home to all manners of alien life.  The battle had been fought by a contingent of ponies who didn't believe in the divinity of the two sisters.  They were remnants of the old times and the conflicts from the dark winter and felt that ponies had gotten through the conflict on their own by way of friendship and needed no divine ruling;  Ironically the rebels had decided the best way to assert this was to try and kill the sisters at their summer home on the shores of the lake.  Celestia had killed every rebellious pony by opening the frozen lake beneath them; truth reputation had been smoothed over by making up a legend to distract from historical details.

The city beneath the forgotten piece of history was Detrot, a haven for new the new industry that was blossoming in Equestria.  With advances in science came advances with technology, and with advances in technology came ponies to Detrot looking to make a bit or two off of the next big thing.  There were jobs a-plenty, and that brought in even more ponies.  As it was the jobs paid poorly and were grueling and long, and many ponies became too beaten down to muster the energy to leave or kill themselves.  The city was eclectic to say the least, a mix of shanties and mis-matched concrete high-rises and factories, and all the immigrants tended to cluster in different sections of town together.

If Fehler's fears were right it was also going to be the test subject for Celestia's new knowledge and whatever she might attempt to do with it.  After all, the sort of transient workers and poorer ponies that made up the bulk of Detrot were prone to conflict, a situation only worsened by stressful working conditions and relatively large populations of zebras and griffins that refused to get along well with the native ponies or each other.  It was the perfect place to try out any sort of new pacification techniques.

Fehler was on the northern edge of the Everfree Forest.  There were roughly nine miles of cleared forest, brush, fields, and shanties between him and the outer edge of the dirty city, and the lake was beyond it at the top of a thousand feet of hills.  At some point the industrious ponies of Detrot had blown out a ravine two hundred feet wide and three hundred tall at the edge of the lake and put in a dam to generate electricity for constant manufacturing.  It gleamed white, tall, foreign.

Chances were Celestia wasn't in the city.  She would be swamped by attention and pleas, and her ability to focus would have been greatly hampered.  More than likely Celestia had gone to what had once been her favorite home, on the shore of the lake.  Fehler wasn't Celestia, however, and decided to save time by cutting through the city to the lake.

He was about to start moving again when a voice startled him:  “What's a young stallion like you doing out here?  I would think you'd be in the city working like all the rest.”  The speaker was a wizened old stallion with a gray mane, a gray coat, and a drooping old cutie-mark of a cockroach.  He had come up behind Fehler nearly silently, though that was no surprise considering how slowly he was moving.

“Yes-sirree,” the old pony went on, “old Roach sees a lot of youngsters coming in from all parts these days to work, work, work.  Used to be a quiet place before then.  Just a quiet little old village, no trouble at all.”

“You've lived her all your life, then?” Fehler asked as he fell into step next to him.  The old pony was headed toward the city in relatively the same direction.

“Yes sir, old Roach has watched this whooole valley grow up.  I don't have my farm any more, but I still have my house.  I said to myself, 'You know, Roach, this here's a nice spot, and it might be fun to get their goat by staying put.'  So there I stayed in my little cottage as the city grew up around me.  I don't need to eat a whole lot any more, and I don't sleep very much either.  I come out here occasionally and find some things to eat.”  The sides of Roach's gummy mouth turned up into a grin.  “Yep, old Roach knows old secrets to living life.”

It was quite apparent that Roach's ability and willingness to talk hadn't diminished with age. If he knew any information he would be a good source for it.  “You're out here often, then.  Did you see Princess Celestia come by in the last day or so?”

Roach cackled madly.  “The Princess?  Are you crazy?”  He squinted at Fehler.  “No, I ain't seen that old bird.  I woulda recognized her if I had since I met her once before, when I was younger.”  For a moment he didn't say anything and his eyes glazed over, but he quickly snapped back.  “Nope, no princess.  Did meet a nice filly earlier, though.  She was quite the unicorn.  Or was she a pegasus?  I can't remember.  Quite the looker, though.  Said she was heading up to the lake, something about it being her old family home.”

The trail the two had been following finally broke out of the brush onto a small dirt road.  There was some traffic, mostly going toward Detrot, and it all quickly passed Fehler and Roach.  Judging by the sun it was nearly noon, and Fehler was tired.  He had been tracking Celestia for nearly fifty four straight hours.  He would walk the old pony home, he decided, sleep for a few hours, then make his way toward the lake.  Fehler knew very little about Detrot and during the long walk ahead he would milk Roach for any information he could get.  He had the feeling it would be useful for later.

Luna frowned.  She reread the letter and her frown deepened and became tinged with worry.

“Fehler told you to give this to me.”  It was a statement rather than a question, and the words were quiet, unusual for the princess accustomed to using her royal Canterlot voice in the court.

“Y-yes,” confirmed Mica.  “He left two days ago and told me to bring this to you if he hadn't returned yet.”

“Well.”  She paused.  “Well.  This isn't good.”  She exhaled slowly and seemed to deflate as she did so.  She nodded to the royal guards who were standing in attendance, signaling them to leave.  “Now, explain to me what it was the two of you were working on.”

Mica told her the story of Fehler's coming to him, related the nature of the work, and then told her what they had ultimately discerned.

Luna swore.  “Did he tell you where he was going?  How to contact him?  Anything?”

“No, your majesty,” Mica replied.  “I was only told to come to you.”

Luna laughed quietly and coldly to herself.  The noise echoed off the stone walls like a chorus of agreement.  “Well, we are very much in trouble now.  What did you say your name was?”

“Mica, your majesty.”  He bowed to her.  “I am at your service.”

“You are not at my service.”  She tossed the letter down to him.  “Fehler said so specifically.”

Mica spread the piece of parchment open on the floor in front of him.  It read:

Luna,

The sun is winking in and out again, and I believe it may be more than I can handle this time.  You are in charge of the kingdom, for now.  If I don't come back, then, I'm sorry.

The pony delivering this letter assisted me on the research I was telling you about; he can tell what we found out.  Once he is done pay him and let him leave.  Don't drag him into this.

Goodbye.

-Fehler

“Your bits will be sent to your office.”  The princess of the night cocked her head at Fehler.  “I'm sorry you had to get involved in this.  Do you like pursuing information?”

“Well, yes, of course.  It's what I live for.”  Mica hadn't even needed to think about that.  “Why?”

Luna stood up from her perch by the throne and stepped down to Mica.  She leaned forward so that her head was right next to his and whispered, “I hope you don't come to regret what it is you live for.”

She turned to leave but Mica, on an impulse, stepped in front of her.  “What are you going to do now?  What will your course of action be?”

Luna regarded Mica like a Marene might regard an obstacle.  “I will wait.  I have to keep Equestria running until Celestia returns, and ultimately whatever I do won't matter.  Either Fehler will succeed or he won't.”

“No.”  He stomped his hooves.  “That's not enough.  There has to be something.”

“Tell me, do you even know where Fehler and Celestia are?  Or how to find them?  You don't, of course.  If you don't even know that how can you do anything?”  Luna sighed.  “All we can do is wait and see what happens.  Maybe we'll get lucky and glean some bit of information, a location, a sighting, anything.  We can only wait, and hope that when it comes it's not the end of the world.”

“You're joking about that last part, right?”  Mica had turned pale at the idea that he might have brought about armageddon.

“No,” she told him.  “I'm really not.”

Celestia was curled up against the moss-covered remains of an old stone wall barely two feet tall.  Even though the sky was clear the weak sunlight was doing nothing to warm her, and the constant highland winds were chilling her further.  Her teeth rattled and her entire body convulsed in an effort to stay warm.

She had spent the last sixty hours wandering with frenetic, unguided energy.  When she could have run she sometimes flew, other times she ran when she should have flown.  Her normally brilliant white coat was covered with dirt and sweat, and everywhere there were small nicks, scratchs, and cuts from thorny undergrowth and jagged rocks.  Her mane, normally flowing and diaphanous, was limp and milky, devoid of even the hint of a shine.

Her ragged breath steamed out into the cold afternoon air.  Fall was certainly in full swing in the high lands, the tenuous life making way for the cold winter to come.  The Running of the Leaves would be soon, Celestia realized.  She tried to stand up, but her legs gave out and she hit the ground with a whump.  Something nagged at the back of her mind.  What had she been about to do?  Why had she been about to get up.  She could see it, the answer was there, but she couldn't seem to understand it.

She rolled onto her side.  What had it been?  She watched a spider creep through spaces between the old, weathered stones.  She should remember it.  Why couldn't she?  It was getting cold; fall was in full swing.  The Running of the Leaves would be soon, she realized.  She would go and watch this year, she decided.  She tried to stand up, but her legs gave out again, and she hit the ground with a dull thud.

Everything hurt.  Her joints hurt.  The spaces between her ribs hurt.  Her shoulders hurt.  Her skin throbbed.  The top of her head was burning and burning and burning, but she knew it wasn't the outside.  It was burning inside.

Everything hurt.

She coughed a few times.  What had she been doing?  There had been something.  Something important.  She began crawling forward slowly, but fast enough.  After all, she had time.  She left the muddy depression that marked her old room and home and started for the beach just twenty feet away.  There had been something.  What was it?  She ground over the rocks and low-bush tundra plants.  What was it?  There had been something.

Her head burned.  There was a fire inside it shorting everything out.  She could feel it, lingering, making her nauseous, making it hard to focus or concentrate or remember anything or formulate a plan – a plan!  What she needed was a plan.  A plan to do what?  A plan to escape.  A plan to escape what?

A plan to escape you, a voice whispered.

To escape who?  You.  Me?  Yes, you. You're the problem, don't you realize? Shut up!  She tried to scream but mostly succeeded in rasping.  “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”  Why should I?  “Because I want you to,” she whimpered.  If you really wanted me to be quiet I would be quiet, but here I am talking to you...  I don't think you really want me gone.

Celestia was lying on the beach now.  It was, if anything, more uncomfortable than the mud had been as there were only large rocks and gravel, rather than sand.  Icy water lapped at her flank, whipped up by the persistent wind heralding the coming storm.  In the distance bloated, black, heavy storm clouds were lumbering forth to wash away the world's grime.

Celestia's eyes closed and she listened to the wind whistle over the earth.  For a long fifteen minutes she didn't think anything, her mind was as silent and as cool as a crypt.  She might as well have been dead.  Suddenly something kicked into gear and her eyes opened wide.  She had to stop it.  She had to stop the fighting, the arguing, the shouting, the endless, endless noise.  She had to end it right now.  She jumped up to her feet, oblivious to her body's protests.  Her pulse was racing, thumping, her heart was fighting to break out of her chest, and she was so alive, and so awake, and so ready to fix it all and make things the way that they should be and erase the mistakes of the past, and she was ready to-

to-

to-

to-

Celestia screamed.  The burning was back and more intense than ever before, eating her from the inside like a worm.  She stormed off down the beachfront, kicking up a hail of gravel in her wake, running from absolutely nothing but herself.

As she ran the air around her horn began to waver like hot air off of the desert.  It was entirely different from the energetic glow of magic, and it was growing.  The burning was unbearable now, more than even Celestia could handle, and it too was growing.  Her lungs felt like they were going to collapse, her legs were fit to break, she was crying, and she was galloping and galloping and galloping and-

Celestia collapsed in a spray of rock and gravel.  She could no longer feel the worming, wiggling, burning feeling at the top of her head; she was unaware of the fresh new wounds that were oozing blood onto the cold rock;  she was oblivious to the imperceptible something that was growing out from her tired horn, groping and growing and feeling as if it was existing for the first time.  Really, Celestia was barely alive.  She was breathing, yes.  Her heart was beating, sure.  But she showed no sign of life.

The lake lapped at her flank.  The sun hung in the sky like a forgotten ornament, ready to be overshadowed by the looming clouds.  The wind teased over the tundra flowers.  Fat raindrops began to pitter patter over the earth.

The sun disappeared behind a curtain of black.