Chapters Chapter One: Coins, Dice, and Cards
Soothsaying, Chapter One: Coins, Dice, and Cards
Sweat beaded on Twilight Sparkle’s brow. Her eyes flicked nervously from side to side, her hooves trembled, her mouth was dry. So much relied on this, and she wasn’t sure. There was the choice, laid out before her, and she had no idea how to decide. Either path might lead to disaster, and what then? And the whole weight of it rested on her shoulders, and hers alone. No one could help her this time, not now—her friends had done their parts, and trusted her to do hers, and here she was, lost. If only she had read the right books…
There was nothing for it. She had to choose, come what may. At long last, she opened her mouth, and managed to croak
“Stand.”
Across the table, the dealer flipped his own card over: a second queen. Twilight looked down at her own hand, the nine of clubs and ten of diamonds, and groaned. That was it. Her last bits, sliding across the table into the dealer’s grasp.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Twilight.” Rarity said sympathetically from her right. “I don’t think blackjack is your game tonight.”
“I guess not.” Glumly, Twilight examined her friend’s own pile of chips—they might not have been bigger than the ones she started off with, but they weren’t too much smaller, either. Farther down the table, Fluttershy’s pile appeared to have actually grown. She sighed. “I think that’s my limit for the night, girls.”
“You know, if you want to keep playing…” Began Rarity, element of generosity, but Twilight shook her head.
“It’s fine, really. I think I just need some fresh air. I’ll see you both back at the hotel, okay?”
With a sigh, Twilight turned away from the table. Las Haygas. How had she gotten talked into this?
Well, it had started with Rainbow Dash. No surprise there, really. What was surprising was how quickly she’d managed to talk Applejack, always reluctant to spend money on “fripperies” into agreeing to the trip. Celestia knew how she managed that. Actually, come to think of it, what if Celestia actually did…? Twilight shook the thought away with a shiver. Best not to think about that, really. In any case, Rarity and Pinkie had hardly needed convincing, and between the two of them they’d managed to get Fluttershy to agree as well. That had left Twilight alone, protesting that she needed to finish a report on the unusual spikes of background magic in the Everfree Forest for the princess. She had only managed to get Rainbow Dash to leave by writing, under her supervision, a request for a short leave of absence from her duties as Celestia’s student. While it had mollified Dash, Twilight had been confident that Celestia, like her, put too much stock in the value of hard work to allow her to run off to Equestria’s most notorious party city at a moment’s notice.
Celestia’s reply had come only a few hours later, kindly worded as always, saying that the princess had been worried for her health, and as such a vacation was not only granted, it was ordered.
Twilight had been rather disappointed in the princess for that.
And now, she stood in the middle of the Veneightian Casino, poorer by one entire day’s budget. Twilight sighed and scanned the casino for her friends, wondering if any of them were having as unlucky a night as she was. She spotted Rainbow Dash first, (figuratively) hovering around the roulette wheels. Nearby, Applejack was eyeing a craps table with an expression of deep suspicion. Beyond that, closest to the casino’s door, Pinkie was seated in front of the slots, looking more stationary than Twilight had seen in her weeks. As such, it was with a little worry that Twilight spoke to the candy-pink mare on her way outside.
“Having a good time, Pinkie?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, Twilight! This place is great! Watch this!” Pinkie reached out and yanked the lever down again. Twilight was about to say that she thought you needed to put chips in before doing that, but when the reels started to spin, she let it lie.
“Hey, Pinkie, I’m going to go for a walk—Rarity and Fluttershy know, but if anyone else asks…”
“I won’t let anyone worry,” Pinkie nodded. “Hey, great!”
That was in response to a cascade of coins pouring onto the floor. Twilight took that as her cue to leave.
Outside, Twilight took a deep breath. Las Haygas being what it was, the air outside the casinos wasn’t noticeably better than inside, but at least there was more of it. On either side of her, the Stripe stretched away, the neon lights burning even in the mid-afternoon daylight. Choosing a direction at random, Twilight trotted away from the casino and down the street, dodging around the rough-looking ponies that seemed to always be loitering on the streets.
She decided where she was going about a block away from the Venieghtian. After all, while the casinos might be all that were ever talked about, Las Haygas was a city, right? Ponies lived here, didn’t they? That meant there would be things like parks and libraries—places she could go and relax away from flashing lights and falling dice and the smell of Mareboro Lights. All she had to do was get out into the real city.
* * *
After what felt like hours of walking, Twilight was beginning to doubt her earlier assumption that she was standing in an actual city. Once she got away from the glitz of the tourist district, she found nothing but an endless series of identical buildings of dirty red brick. She was no country pony, but Canterlot was nothing like this place. It was an old city, grown up over the centuries, and while the streets had twists and curves that might seem random at first, they followed the rhythm of life in Equestria’s capital. But here, on land that had been frontier less than a century before, Twilight felt as if the city itself was conspiring to make her life difficult.
As if the to underscore the point, the street she was following ended abruptly with a graffiti-adorned wall. Rather than decide if she should turn left or right, Twilight sat down on her haunches and sighed. She must not have been getting out of the library enough lately—her hooves were aching. She supposed she could have cast a spell and given herself wings, but the way her luck was going, she’d probably get smacked out of the sky by one of those rotating neon signs and spend the rest of what was supposed to be a vacation in the hospital. Glumly, Twilight stared ahead, looking for answers in the layers of graffiti on the drab brick wall.
And, to her own surprise, found some. The newest addition, in blue paint that still looked shiny and wet, read “This Way” and was underlined with an arrow pointing down the left-hoof path. Twilight set off in the indicated direction without hesitation. After all, what else did she have to lose?
There was another message when she reached the end of the street, chalked onto the pavement in the same sky-blue shade. With no real alternative, Twilight followed that one as well. It lead her to another, and another. It was not until the fifth such message that she began to have second thoughts.
Stopping, Twilight looked up at the sky. It wasn't dusk yet, but the day was beginning to move in that direction, and it might be wise to turn around and start back towards the hotel, if she wanted to be back by nightfall. Doubtfully, she looked back down the street, trying to guess where the mysterious graffiti was taking her.
She blinked. Something had caught the corner of her eye, just for a moment, as her gaze moved from the sky to the pavement. She looked to her right. Stenciled on the side of the building next to her, in the now-familiar light blue lettering, were the words
"Just a little farther, Twilight Sparkle."
It was astonishing, she reflected, how something could go from intriguing to irritating to disquieting in so short a time. She paused for a moment, glanced back at the sky doubtfully.
"Rainbow Dash? Is that you?"
The only answer she received were odd looks from a pair of fillies walking opposite to her down the street.
It was certainly possible that the pegasus could have followed her through the city, descending to leave messages at the appropriate points, but... it wasn't Dash's style of prank, not at all. With one last glance at the mysterious message, Twilight set off again. She was getting to the bottom of this. One way or another.
Eventually, the words led her to a park, a small scribble of green in the brick sea of Las Haygas. The last message, left before the wrought iron gates that looked far too rusted to ever close, read simply "I'm waiting."
The park was not large, and even from the gates, Twilight could make the silhouetted figure near the center. Twilight paused for a moment, trying to make out even a single detail. Then, with a shrug, she walked to meet the strange pony.
True, the eyes were bright and clear. The face was unscarred, the lips untwisted. Every limb appeared to be exactly as it should be. Indeed, had the mane been even a little longer, the cloaked pony might have appeared to be an ordinary earth pony. But on the forehead, unobscured and horrible, was single dull stump, smooth and blank, as if the horn meant to be there had simply been sawn off.
It was like witnessing madness, or a death. Something of what was supposed to be there, was lacking, and its absence made the whole not just less, but obscene. So Twilight recoiled, and hated herself for it.
Twilight shook herself, recovering from the initial shock, and studied the pony in front of her. She was a mare, with a dusty yellow coat and eyes of deep, dark green. Her mane was dark brown, and had it been an inch or two longer she might have passed for an earth pony without a second glance. The cloak she wore was, if not exactly threadbare, then worn in way that suggested long use. It was also totally without ornamentation, or even style: clearly, it was intended to keep the rain off, and nothing more. The moment or two it took Twilight to notice these things was also long enough for her to find her voice.
But the unicorn waved a dismissive hoof. “My injury occurred some time ago, Twilight Sparkle. And even if I wished for it to be reversed, I know not even you possess the power to do so.” She shook her head. “No, I only want to talk.”
“Look, I know you went through a lot of trouble to get me here, but if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ve lost enough money for one day…”
The unicorn gave her a small smile. “I’m not after your money any more than I am after your help. I merely wish to talk.”
“Well… okay.” Twilight said, a little flattered that someone would go to so much trouble just to speak with her. “Do you think you could start with your name?”
“Of course. I am Shining Upon.”
“Shining Upon what?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
Twilight blinked. “Uh… if you say so. What was it you wanted to talk about?”
Shining Upon placed a hoof on the table. “You recognize these things for what they are now—game pieces, toys and curios. But they were more, once. Each tribe had their preferred methods, but all had them.” She pointed to the coin. “For the pegasi, a coin. Because there is the sky, and there is the earth. You fly, or you fall. What could be simpler?” Next, she indicated the die. “But the lives of earth ponies turned on the rhythms of nature, and so they chose another method. A side for day, and one for night, and one for each season. And for the unicorns, who grasped better than the others the complexities of the world, needed something that reflected that complexity. And so, they chose…”
“The Celestial Arcana.” Twilight finished, eying the deck of cards. It was significantly thicker than a standard deck of playing cards, and the backs showed myriad golden stars upon a field of deep blue. “The fortune-teller’s deck. That’s what you’re talking about, right? Methods to see the future? But none of them work.”
Shining Upon shook her head. “None of them work now. Techniques have been lost, or discounted. But foretelling can be just effective now as it once was.”
“But it was never effective!” Twilight protested. “Divination hasn’t been recognized as an application of magic for centuries—not even stage magicians use it anymore.”
“The Royal Academy can decree whatever they please,” Shining Upon said dismissively. “It doesn’t change the facts.”
“You’re seriously claiming to have discovered field of magic that has gone unused for hundreds of years?”
“Not unused, Twilight Sparkle. Unnoticed. Divination may be the only type of magic that nearly every pony has personal experience with.”
Twilight blinked. “That’s impossible.”
Shining Upon gave her a hard look. “Really? Then you’ve never wondered why a foal might be named Rainbow Dash many years before she had shown any skill at flying, let alone a knack for speed? Or Carrot Cake before anyone could know he’d open a bakery? Or,” and here Twilight’s eyes crossed as they focused on the hoof the hornless unicorn leveled at her “Twilight, before anyone could imagine she would one day bring about the reunion of the moon and the sun?”
“I—that’s—” Twilight stammered. “Look, what you’re talking about… it’s not magic. It’s just… mystic. I mean, a magical force that can be tapped into unconsciously? And you’ve somehow…” She trailed off. “No, not somehow. It was the loss of your horn, wasn’t it? And if you were an earth pony, you’d wear a blindfold. And a Pegasus would be missing her pinions, I suppose.”
Shining Upon gave her a wintry smile. “You’re wondering if I might be a charlatan after all, aren’t you? But I knew what route you would take the city, even when you did not, and left messages to guide you to me.”
“For all I know, you could have left those across half the city.”
Shining Upon pawed the ground in irritation. “But I did not.” She sighed. “No matter. Making you believe me is not my point. I only want to show you how to take advantage of this as well.”
Twilight’s eyes widened. “Whoa, wait a second. I mean, I’m sure seeing the future would be useful, but I’m not exactly convinced, certainly not to enough to sacrifice my horn.”
But Shining Upon was shaking her head. “My talent with magic was never great, so I consider it no great loss. But you are the element of magic. You have power far beyond what most could aspire to, and that gives you an advantage. While you might never see the future instinctively…” she bent her head and nudged the cards towards Twilight with her nose. “I think the old techniques would serve you well. That is a very old deck, made by a single craftspony with no aid but their own magic. Modern decks turned out on a printing press are useless, but those have potential. No power of their own, but they can receive yours.”
“And do what with it?”
“Guide your thoughts. Show you possibilities, or eventualities. Or more. Even I don’t know exactly how far the cards can go when power like yours guides them.”
Twilight studied the Celestial Arcana. She had owned a deck, when she was a filly, and had spent a few days devising an extremely over-complicated version of solitaire. She’d even tried a reading or two, but had only gotten gibberish. But then, Shining Upon had said that mass-produced decks were useless…
Twilight’s horn glowed as she lifted the deck. “Alright. What should I do?”
“Shuffle the deck. Tune it to yourself.” As the cards began to rustle back and forth, Shining Upon smiled. “If I were a charlatan, this is where it would get easy.” Her voice jumped an octave or so, and became more of a cackle around the edges. “Here is the Mistress of Silence, the Drowned Sailor, and the Broken Path! Fear death by water!” She laughed as Twilight finished and placed the cards back on the table.
“What now?”
“Well… if this were a reading, this is when you would choose the question you wanted answered. But I think a demonstration is in order, first. Let’s see how well these cards know you. Don’t bother to come up with a question, just start drawing.”
Twilight flipped over the first card, laying it on the table.
“The Mistress of Gems,” Shining Upon pronounced.
A second card followed.
“The Knave of Clouds.”
Twilight faintly remembered that a simple reading was supposed to be only three cards, and looked up after the third was revealed.
“The Humble Merchant.” Shining Upon frowned. “I don’t think this is a complete reading, yet. Do you?”
Twilight shook her head. She could feel it too: the cards on the table were only half of a complete thought. She drew the next card.
“The Fool.”
Suddenly, Twilight saw it. As she placed the Fool beside the other cards, she caught something in the smile of the pony upon the card’s face. It was familiar, and as she recognized it one card, aspects of the others leapt to her attention. The haughty stare of The Mistress of Gems, the Knave of Clouds’ smirk, the set jaw of the Humble Merchant. She knew them each as she knew her own face in the mirror. When the fifth card, which Shining Upon named the Maiden of the Forest, sported a familiar averted gaze, she was not surprised, and it was with a sense of finality that she drew the sixth.
“The Magician.” Shining Upon’s gaze flicked across the cards laid out on the table. “I don’t think I need to interpret this for you, do I?”
“No,” Twilight said as she swept the cards back into the deck, “you don’t. But now I think it’s time for a real test. It’s time to see the future.”
“Indeed. However, if you also wish to see your friends tonight, I’m afraid it must wait. Rarity is looking for you, and you must head towards the gates now if you wish to meet her.”
Twilight blinked, nonplussed. “But… aren’t you supposed to teach me how this works? I don’t know the first thing about what these cards mean.”
“It’s not about what they mean. It’s about what they mean to you. Never fear, Twilight Sparkle. If you’re half as clever as I’ve heard, deciphering the cards will be foal’s play for you.” Shining Upon looked ruminatively up at the sky. “I believe it’s time for you to go. Keep the Celestial Arcana, as a gift. Farewell.”
There was a finality in the hornless unicorn’s voice that made Twilight turn away, despite her unspoken questions. Taking the cards in a magical grip, she trotted for the exit of the park, her shadow streaming out behind her as the city slipped into dusk. On the street outside, she was nearly knocked down by Rarity, who skidded to a stop just in time.
“Twilight, darling, I’ve been looking all over for you!”
“You didn’t have too—I can find my own way back to the hotel.” Probably, Twilight added in the privacy of her head.
“Well, that’s just it: we’re not staying at the hotel. Our luggage has been moved to the Veneightian’s High Roller suite.”
Even with her head full of cards, Twilight started. “A suite? Why?”
“Well…” Rarity coughed. “It’s a terribly long story. But, really, I suppose it comes down to the fact that Fluttershy is rather good at Blackjack.”
* * *
Twilight was quiet most of the way back to the Veneightian, turning Shining Upon’s words over in her mind. She wasn’t quite sure if she believed the strange unicorn, not yet, but she wasn’t about to discount everything she said, either. She’d hold onto the cards, conduct some research of her own, and see what came of it. Maybe she could even ask Princess Celestia about the old augurs. At the thought of her mentor, Twilight brightened. That was an idea: here was an original project, something no living pony had accomplished. If she could reproduce by study what Shining Upon could do by chance, it would be a major advancement in magical theory. Something like that would prove to the princess that her time educating Twilight had not been wasted.
The unicorn’s train of thought was violently derailed when she and Rarity reached the room on one of the Venieghtian’s upper floors. Twilight had just stepped through the door when she heard someone shout her name, and then she was thrown from her hooves as something slammed into her from the left.
“Twilight! You’re back!”
Rainbow Dash stood above the fallen unicorn, smiling hugely. She reached out and tapped Twilight’s nose with a hoof. “We were worried about you!”
Twilight’s eyes watered as Rainbow’s breath washed over her. The pegasus was very drunk… which probably explained why Applejack’s hat was perched rakishly on her head.
“Rainbow, let the poor pony up,” Applejack drawled from somewhere across the room.
“You’re no fun,” Rainbow Dash huffed as she walked away, allowing Twilight to climb to her hooves.
“What can ah get yah, sugarcube?”
Applejack waved a hoof at the shelf behind her. A half-full glass rested on the counter in front of her, and Twilight nudged another (Rainbow Dash’s, presumably) out of the way as she sat down. The unicorn glanced over her shoulder. Rainbow had joined Pinkie in testing the springiness of the Veneightian’s bed. As Twilight watched, she bounced a little too high and caught in the chandelier with a startled yelp and a lot of jingling. As Applejack’s hat drifted lazily down, Twilight turned back to the earth pony with a tired smile.
“I’ll have what she’s having.”
A couple of drinks later, and the Celestial Arcana lay forgotten on the bartop. Twilight had decided that Applejack had the right idea, and was leaning against the bar watching the rest of her friends across the room. Rarity looked half-asleep, staring dreamily out at the Las Haygas cityscape. Rainbow Dash, not the least discouraged by her brief imprisonment in the chandelier, had joined forces with Pinkie Pie in an attempt to get Fluttershy to partake in the not-to-be-missed bounciness of the enormous bed.
“C’mon, ‘shy, what are you worried about?” the pegasus was saying. “After all, you have a couple of big, strong, mares down here to catch you!” She gave Pinkie a nudge that almost knocked the earth pony over.
“I don’t know…” Fluttershy eyed the vaulted ceiling with some trepidation.
“There’s nothing be scared of. It’s fun!” Pinkie chirped.
“Yeah, exactly. Fun. Ya know, the whole reason we’re in this city.” Rainbow Dash spread her hooves expansively. “Live a little, ‘shy. It’s what Las Haygas is for.”
“Okay... if you say so.”
Carefully, the pale yellow pegasus climbed onto the bed, stepping lightly.
“Alright, now make sure your hooves are steady,” Pinkie instructed, dropping into a crouch, “kinda get down like this,” she continued as Fluttershy hesitantly copied her, “and bounce!”
The combination of Pinkie’s enthusiasm and Fluttershy’s nerves resulted in the two ponies ending up at roughly eye level in mid-air.
“Again!” the earth pony commanded as soon as her hooves were back on solid ground.
The second time, Fluttershy, aided by the bed’s natural springiness, managed to get fractionally more altitude than her friend.
“One more time!” Pinkie cheered.
As Fluttershy reached the peak of her jump, Rainbow Dash gave an appreciative whistle.
“That’s the spirit, ‘shy!”
“Thanks, R—“ Fluttershy said, glancing down at her friend.
Across the room, Twilight winced as she saw Fluttershy’s eyes widen.
Then, with a squeak, the pegasus tumbled out of the air to land square on Pinkie’s back. The earth pony was back on her feet again almost instantly, even while Fluttershy stammered out apologies, and Rainbow Dash was laughing so hard that she had to throw a hoof around her friends’ necks to keep from toppling over.
Twilight glanced over her shoulder at Applejack.
“She looks like she’s having a good time.”
“That’s m’ Rainbow. I need a little more green under mah hooves, but this town was made for ponies like her,” Applejack
“Does it ever bother you, though?”
Applejack frowned. “That Rainbow’s a little flighty? Comes with the territory for a pegasus, sugarcube.”
“No, I mean,” Twilight waved a hoof, the gesture only slightly exaggerated. “how she’s such a touchy-feely drunk. I mean,” she said again, faltering in the face of the Applejack’s blank look, “she just kinda jumped on me when I walked in. If she were my fillyfriend—I mean, if I had a fillyfriend, I think I might get kinda jealous.”
Applejack laughed. “Twilight, she’s the element of loyalty. Ah might have to worry about a lotta things—like her driving me grey before mah time—but ah don’t think ah’ll ever have to worry about that.”
On the other side of the room, the commotion had roused Rarity from her reverie. The unicorn was not pleased.
“It’s like rooming with a pack of animals!” she was saying. “Honestly, our first night in a nice hotel, and you have already have your heart’s set on destroying our room!”
“Celestia’s teeth, it’s a casino, not the Glitz…” Rainbow Dash muttered.
“And you!” Rarity shouted, rounding on the pegasus. “What have you been drinking? Furniture polish?”
Rainbow Dash opened her mouth, closed it again, and looked thoughtful.
“Well… it didn’t taste like furniture polish.”
A handful of seconds later, and the drunken pegasus was floating towards the bar, suspended in a pure a white aura.
“Y’alright there, sugarcube?” Applecjak enquired.
“Rarity says I need to sober up.” Rainbow Dash sulked. As she spoke, Rarity withdrew her magic, and Rainbow dropped to the ground with a muffled curse.
Twilight, losing her own battle against alcohol, giggled.
“Gee, Rainbow, what gave her that idea?”
“Hey, now” Rainbow Dash huffed, leveling a hoof several inches to Twilight’s left, “I’ll have you know I’m great at holding my locker. Lacquer.”
“Liquor?” Twilight corrected.
“Hey, great idea! C’mere, AJ.”
The earth pony batted her fillyfriend’s hooves away. “That’s just about enough of that. Seems to me Rarity’s right: let’s get you some water, sugarcube.”
Later, as the six ponies settled in for the night, Twilight watched Rainbow Dash drape a wing over Applejack. As the earth pony snuggled close to her fillyfriend, Twilight sighed. It would be nice, she reflected, to be held like that, once in a while. Her thoughts left Las Haygas, flew across the breadth of slumbering Equestria, to Canterlot. Maybe, Twilight thought as sleep claimed her, maybe someday.
Chapter Two: Twilight Tells the Future
Soothsaying, Chapter 2: Twilight Tells the Future
The week in Las Haygas passed quickly, which was fine by Twilight. She had eventually found a library, and studied quite carefully a book on counting cards. But all it had gotten her was banned from the Veneightian’s casino floor and an “I-told-you-so” from Rainbow Dash about not being supposed to count out loud. But at least it saved her from losing any more money than she had already.
Of course, it wasn’t as if Las Haygas was short of entertainment, and Twilight did quite enjoy sampling the city’s various shows, plays, and musical acts—after one embarrassing misunderstanding made her look closely at exactly what each show entailed, at any rate. But as the week wore on, the work she had left behind began to seem more and more pressing, and it was with some relief that she followed her friends onto the train east.
The compartment the six of them shared was comfortable, but loud, as Applejack and Rainbow bickered good-naturedly about who had taken who to what, and whose turn it was next, and Rarity, Pinkie Pie, and Fluttershy compared wins and losses. Twilight sunk back into her seat with a smile. It was good to be going home.
She dozed most the way back to Ponyville, and when she padded softly back into the library, the first thing that met her was the pile of papers sitting abandoned on her desk. She glanced at the clock. It wasn’t even midnight, and she had gotten plenty of sleep on the train (insofar as that was possible between the jolts of the carriage and the conversation of her friends), so there was no harm in looking over things before she went to bed. Just to be sure she had things well in hoof for the morning, of course. Humming to herself, Twilight lit a lamp and picked up a pen, plucking the first sheet from the top of the pile as she did so.
She wasn’t sure exactly when she heard Spike moving around the library, but it was some time later. Long enough for the rising sun to make her lamp unnecessary, at least. She scratched a signature onto the letter to Mayor Mare, and smiled at the scrape of claws on the floorboards.
“Good Morning, Spike.”
“Morning, Twilight.” The dragon yawned. The sound of draconic footsteps stopped. “Twilight! You’re back!”
The unicorn turned in her chair, grinning. “We got back last night, but I didn’t want to wake you. Did you have a good time while we were gone?”
Spike frowned. “Well, sure. I was only left alone here for a week while all my friends were partying in Las Haygas. How could I not?”
Twilight sighed. “Spike, we talked about this. The casinos have a very strict ‘no minors’ policy.”
“But I’m a dragon! We don’t age the same way—it shouldn’t apply.”
“Yes, I mentioned that.” Twilight nodded gravely. “They said that dragons were even more banned than minors, because it took them two weeks to get the last one out of the vault.”
As Spike started muttering about racial profiling, Twilight turned back to her desk, reaching for the next document that required her attention, only to find that there wasn’t one. Well, that was something: an entire week’s work caught up with in one night. The unicorn stretched. And she wasn’t even tired.
“Spike?” she called over her shoulder. “We’ve got The Illustrated Guide to the Celestial Arcana around here somewhere, don’t we?”
“Uh, I think so.”
“Good. Could you get that for me? Also, The Abandoned Magics, Four Tellings, and the second edition of The Guide to Grammar?”
“I’ll find those for you, no problem. But gee Twilight, what are you going to do with them?”
“The same thing I do every day, Spike.” Twilight grinned. “I’m going to do research.”
* * *
Looked at from a distance, the Celestial Arcana was simple. A few more suits than a normal deck, and a few unusual face cards, but nothing too strange or unfamiliar. Even the major arcana, those cards with no suit but with unique meaning all their own, were not too foreign to her. But as Twilight paged through the Illustrated Guide, she was reminded of just how complicated the cards could be. Each had their own meanings, with a separate set for if the card was inverted. And, while some of those meanings were straightforward, quite a few were confusing, even contradictory.
The Abandoned Magics pointed out all of the difficulties she noticed in the deck, and a few she hadn’t, and snippily concluded that, “while the old soothsayers claimed to be able to select the correct meaning by instinct, the failure of the modern practioners of the craft to demonstrate any such ability lead to its removal from the official disciplines of magic.” Oddly enough, that made Twilight feel a little better: after all, Shining Upon had said that it was the older cards that possessed the actual potential to predict the future.
Four Tellings detailed different kinds of readings, each performed by laying the cards down in a certain order, with dozens of variations upon the four major forms. Canterlot Stars, Everfree Vines, Eastern High Promenade—Twilight quickly found herself bewildered by the sheer number of options, each of which assigned a different meaning or significance to each card. In the end, she decided to stick with the basic three-card draw: it just seemed simpler.
Twilight set the books aside carefully, clearing a place on her desk. Then, taking the cards from her luggage, she began to shuffle the deck, casting about for a suitable question. Well, she was trying to tell the future—why not something simple, like “what will happen next?”
Setting the Arcana down, she drew the first card. The Ace of Roses. According to the Illustrated Guide, that meant new information, a revelation, or a message. Next, she drew the Three of Clouds. That meant upheaval, a change in situation, or a journey. Last of all was the Queen of Roses. The Illustrated Guide had a lot to say on that one: it generally represented a beautiful mare, especially if the question being answered was one of romance. In that case, it represented either the object of the asker’s affections or the asker herself, depending.
Twilight frowned at the cards. If there was an obvious meaning in them, it wasn’t leaping out at her. The first two cards could mean bad news, she supposed, but she had no idea what the Queen was supposed to represent. She had just turned back to the Illustrated Guide when she felt a tap on her shoulder.
“Letter for you, Twilight.”
Twilight took the scroll, and felt the same little glow she always did when she read the words “My Dear Twilight Sparkle.” The letter from Celestia was brief, saying only that she hoped the vacation had done her student good, and inviting Twilight to the castle to tell her about Las Haygas face-to-face. Twilight was reaching for her pen, ready to promise a trip to Canterlot the very next day, when her eyes fell once more on the cards. A message. A journey. A beautiful mare. She stared between the letter and the cards, then announced, to no one in particular:
“I can see fifteen seconds into the future. Go me.”
* * *
“A hornless unicorn? Really?” Celestia looked thoughtful as she set down her teacup. “And she knew your name?”
It was around noon, and Celestia, Luna, and Twilight had just taken lunch together in the gardens of the palace. They were still seated at the whitewood table, talking among themselves as the palace guards lurked surreptitiously in the shadows of the hedges and fountains. Twilight had related the more mundane parts of the Las Haygas trip, including her own less-than-stellar performance at the tables, before launching into the story of her strange encounter in the park.
“She knew quite a lot,” Twilight nodded. “And she gave me these.” She laid the star-backed cards on the table.
Next to her sister, Luna perked up. “Is that the Arcana? I haven’t seen a set since I returned.”
A golden aura surrounded the cards as Celestia lifted them. “They fell out of favor while you were gone. I can’t remember the last time I was asked to bless a set.”
“Shining Upon said that the sets have to be made in a certain way to work. That the mass-produced copies of the Celestial Arcana are basically worthless.”
“The ‘Celestial Arcana?’ Really, sister?”
“I didn’t name them, Luna,” Celestia said mildly. Then, to Twilight, she said “and she thought that you could put these cards to better use than anyone else?”
“That’s what she said, yes. She seemed to think that precognition is built-in to ponies—that all that’s needed is some kind of focus, and sometimes not even that. She said that’s why so many ponies have such appropriate names.”
“Really? Well, I admit, it’s a theory I’ve never heard before.” Celestia took another sip of her tea, then turned back to her student. “What do you think of it?”
Twilight straightened slightly before speaking. “Well, in between reading up on the cards, I looked at Mustard Seed’s Theory of Nominative Determinism. He argues that, since names have power, a well-chosen name imparts a (for lack of a better word) destiny upon whom it is bestowed.”
Celestia smiled. “Well done, Twilight. As always, your thoroughness does you credit.”
Twilight beamed. Across the table, Luna hid her expression behind her cup. She didn’t know whether she wanted to laugh or cry, she really didn’t. Every time Twilight looked at her sister, her heart poured out through those wide purple eyes. It wasn’t admiration Luna saw there. It wasn’t even adoration. It was love, pure and unchecked and complicated as anything. And now, at those few words of praise, the young unicorn looked ready to float out of her chair. Luna studied her sister, wondering if Celestia was as oblivious as she appeared. If this went much further, she was going to have to take steps. Aloud, she said
“Mustard Seed? Why does that name sound familiar?”
“He was arch-chancellor of the Royal Academy of Magic… oh, eleven hundred years ago?” Celestia said with a shrug. “He did a lot of work on portal magic.”
“Oh, the one who managed to connect his drinks cabinet to his hat. I remember him.” Luna chuckled. “He’d take off his hat, and a bottle would just be sitting there between his ears. I think that stuff could peel paint.”
“Yes, well, he did some quite respectable research in his earlier days.” Celestia said. “I always thought it was unfair that everyone called him “the Ridiculous” when he got older.” She shook her head. “But that’s neither here nor there. What did you think of his theory, Twilight?”
“It’s plausible,” Twilight said slowly. “But, short of naming a foal something like ‘Penniless Trots,’ and seeing if they spend their life as a poor wanderer, I don’t think it can be tested. And, even if they did, it wouldn’t rule out Shining Upon’s theory, either.” She frowned. “Actually, I’m not sure how’d I’d go about testing either one. But I do think that the cards work. I used them to predict your letter.” The unicorn blushed, just a little. “Even if I didn’t realize it until the afterwards.”
“Really? How interesting. And were you planning to investigate further?” Celestia asked.
“Well...” Twilight hesitated. “That’s sort of what I wanted to ask you. Do you think I should?”
“If the matter interests you, Twilight, then by all means pursue it.” Celestia smiled at her student. “I have complete confidence in your ability to master any spell you put your mind to—even one that has gone unused for so long.”
Twilight’s smile was all but incandescent, and Luna stood quickly. “I believe I ‘m late for an appointment with the royal treasurer. Please excuse me, sister.” She smiled at the unicorn. “Always a pleasure, Twilight. Best of luck in your studies.”
On her way out of the garden, she met the royal chamberlain, an elderly earth pony with a drab black coat.
“Ah, your highness,” he said brightly. “I was just on my way to see your sister. She’s needed for a meeting of the—“
“I’ll handle it,” Luna said shortly, laying a wing across the chamberlain’s shoulders and turning him around, forcing him to fall into step alongside her. “My sister does not wish to be disturbed.”
“But, her schedule,” the chamberlain huffed. “It is—”
“Flexible enough to allow a little more time with her student,” Luna finished. “Let me make one thing quite clear: there are enough hours in the day for my sister to attend to her duties, and spend as much time on personal affairs as she wishes. If there are not, then arrangements will be made. Do I make myself clear?”
The chamberlain quailed. On the one hoof, this was Princess Luna, Celestia’s own beloved sister, and shepherd of the moon. On the other, he hadn’t risen to his position by ignoring schedules. They were, in their own way, what the world was all about, particularly the parts of it inahibted by the princesses. After all, what was the dawn, other than a convenient point to begin a daily planner? And what was the dusk but the best point at which to end one?
“Well,” he said reluctantly, “things can always be reshuffled, but there’s only so many hours—”
“If more hours are needed,” Luna said at once. “More will be added. You have my personal guarantee on that.”
The chamberlain stared at her.
“So glad we understand one another,” Luna said sweetly, and trotted off.
She would give her sister six months to cotton on, she decided. After that, she was writing “Twilight Loves You” in Celestia’s mirror. She snorted. And if that didn’t work, she’d try the moon.
* * *
That evening, Twilight was back at her desk in the library in Ponyville. The Illustrated Guide was at her left, a blank page was at her right, and the Arcana was in the middle. She was glad Celestia had given her blessing to her experiments—embarking on a new area of study, one introduced to her by someone else, would have been… wrong. Almost like a betrayal. But now, after their discussion on Shining Upon’s claims, Twilight had promised the princess of the sun that she would be ready to give her conclusions on fortunetelling within a month.
As she lifted the deck, Twilight thought back on her lunch with the princesses. Luna had excused herself partway through, making a vague comment about her responsibilities before hurrying away. She was doing that more and more, lately. Twilight frowned. Had she done something to offend the princess of the moon? If so, what? Was it something she needed to apologize for? Twilight looked down at the cards, held in her magical grip. Well, that was one way to find out.
As she shuffled the Arcana, Twilight kept the question what happened between me and Luna foremost in her mind. When she laid the cards out, she didn’t even need the Arcana to read what they meant. There was the Six of Virtues, the Tower inverted, and the Moon.
The Tower had always frightened her as a filly: the two ponies tumbling helplessly from the crumbling castle, eyes wide and wild, were the stuff of nightmares. Knowing what the card meant, danger and catastrophe, hardly improved matters. But here it was inverted, and its meaning was the opposite: disaster averted. That, combined with the two other cards, told Twilight that as far as the Arcana was concerned, the last significant event between herself and Luna was when the Elements of Harmony had defeated Nightmare Moon. So much for getting insight into why Luna seemed to be avoiding her. Twilight sighed. Perhaps it was just a phase she was going through.
Thinking of Nightmare Moon reminded Twilight of something that had been bothering her about Shining Upon. The hornless unicorn had claimed to be able to see the future without the aid of the deck, or anything else. Did she mean visions? If she did, then she must have seen the return of Nightmare Moon—not just that, but Discord’s brief resurgence as well. Why had she not tried to warn anyone? Perhaps because she had seen that the danger would be defeated in the end? What if she hadn’t seen that? Would she have tried then, or decided it was hopeless?
After a moment of hesitation, Twilight set the cards down, and lifted her pen. On the blank parchment, she wrote, carefully:
“Sufficiently advanced apathy is indistinguishable from fate.”
“So Twilight, found out what’s in your future?” Spike voice broke Twilight from her reverie.
“Hmm? Oh, no: I haven’t gotten around to reading my own fortune yet.” She turned to face the dragon with a small shrug.
“You’re kidding. That’s the first thing you should do! I mean, what if turns out you’re supposed to fall down the stairs tomorrow and break something? How would you know to just stay in bed all day?”
Twilight smiled. “That’s not a warning, Spike. That’s just your wishful thinking.” She turned back to her desk. “Still… I suppose I ought to try.”
The cards of the Arcana rustled as she shuffled the deck again. What does my future hold?
The Page of Wands. That meant a subordinate or a servant, maybe someone who would help the asker.
The Ace of Roses, again. Another message or revelation.
The Three of Gems. That meant the fear of losing touch, distance, or rejection.
Twilight frowned down at the cards. So… she was in danger of losing someone’s help, because of something she would find out about them? It didn’t sound right to her. Moreover, it didn’t feel right—and the ability to know the feel of a complete reading and a flawed one was made a soothsayer, wasn’t it?
Twilight had already lifted the next card when there was a frantic tapping on the window. The startled unicorn lost her grip, and the Arcana went flying, as the pane slammed back and Rainbow Dash entered, harried and breathless.
“Rainbow, are you okay?” Twilight asked, hurrying over. “What's wrong?”
“Applebloom’s disappeared,” the pegasus gasped out. “I can’t find Sweetie Belle or Scootaloo either.”
“Oh, dear. Again?” Twilight sighed.
“Yeah. It’s getting dark and AJ’s really worried. I tried telling her that it’s not like this is the first time this has happened, and she nearly bit my head off” Dash said, rubbing the back of her neck with a hoof. “Can you help us look for them?”
“Of course, Rainbow. Who else have you talked to?”
“Just AJ and Rarity. I’m going to Fluttershy’s next.”
“Spike and I will go get Pinkie, then. When you get back to Applejack, tell her not to worry, okay? We’ll find them in no time.”
Spike leaped onto her back as Twilight galloped down the library stairs, leaving the cards forgotten on her desk. Duty called.
* * *
“No time” turned out to be several hours, at the end of which the self-proclaimed Cutie Mark Crusaders were discovered at the bottom of a lake, paddling around quite happily in a submarine apparently fashioned from two barrels, an apple crate, and a weathervane. By the time she returned to library, leaving the three fillies to a lecture from Applejack, Rarity, and Rainbow on running off without telling anyone, Twilight was too tired to do more than collect the scattered cards before falling into bed.
The next morning, when she returned to work, Twilight did her own reading again. Again, the Page of Wands appeared, followed by the Ace of Roses and the Three of Gems. Plainly, her future had not changed overnight. Well, perhaps the complete reading would make more sense. Twilight flipped over the next card, and stared.
It was the Page of Wands, identical in every way to the card already lying on the desk. Twilight hurriedly drew the next two cards, and got another Ace of Roses, another Three of Gems. She flipped over the entire deck. Every single card was one of those three, repeating in the same neat pattern.
Twilight slammed the Arcana back to the table, face-down, and swept her two identical readings into the pile. She cast about for a question, any question, just to get the cards back to the way they were. She eventually settled on what will Pinkie’s next party be about, and was so relieved when she drew the Five of Serpents that she didn’t even bother to finish the reading.
Twilight sat back in her chair, rubbing her eyes. She was going about this all wrong. She was treating it like some kind of game, not research into a new and untested field of magic. But the cards clearly did have power (or the potential for power, as Shining Upon had put it). She was going to have to get serious if she wanted to have results worthy of presenting to Celestia. Twilight cracked her neck, in imitation of something she had seen Rainbow Dash do before a race. It was time to go about this scientifically.
By the time Spike wandered, yawning, into the library, Twilight had filled up most of her parchment page with dense writing, detailing the exact results of dozens of readings.
“Yikes, Twilight. Is there some kind of crisis coming up?”
The unicorn shook her head. “I’m trying to figure what kind of weather we’re going to have for the rest of the week.”
“Uh, Twilight… can’t you just ask Rainbow Dash? I mean, she is the weather pony around here.”
“Not really the point, Spike,” Twilight said shortly, and went back to shuffling her cards.
* * *
In the weeks that followed, Twilight spent as much time as should could on the cards. Though her responsibilities in Ponyville and the inevitable minor crises often pulled her away, but she still managed to study the Arcana. She learned how to phrase her questions, to ensure the most accurate result, and she began to get a feel for the placement of cards and the importance of order in a reading. She experimented with some of the more esoteric patterns detailed in Four Tellings, and even began to modify them when it suited her needs. She took pages of notes, and left dozens more scratched in the margins of the various books she consulted. All in all, she was confident in her grasp of the art of fortunetelling, or at least in the use of the Arcana—with one troubling exception.
She couldn’t seem to get her own fortune to come right. Every time, she got the same three cards, no matter what. It didn’t matter how she altered the phrasing of the question, or how she changed the pattern used in laying out the cards. Always, she found herself staring at the Page, the Ace, and the Three. It was maddening.
It wasn’t simply that she couldn’t see her own future. Such a limitation would not have bothered Twilight in the slightest, on its own—foretelling was an interesting application of magic, but she wasn’t about to become a seer like Shining Upon. No, it was the fact that her failing represented a flaw in the research she was doing for Princess Celestia.
Twilight groaned, resting her forehead on the desk. She was going to Canterlot in the morning, both to visit with the princesses and to present her findings to Celestia. And still, those three cards stared back at her, mockingly. This was an opportunity, a chance to prove to Celestia that she had the skill to back up the raw power the princess had seen in her. Pioneering a new kind of magic—or one so old it was nearly new, anyway—was something to be proud of, something that might even give her the confidence she so badly needed around her mentor. And it was all being ruined by these three stubborn cards.
Raising her head, she lifted the cards to eye level, scrutinizing them through her own purple aura, as if the ink itself held the secrets to her problems.
“Change,” she whispered.
How could she have learned so much, and not know how to fix this? It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t fair.
“Change,” she growled, glaring at the cards.
She’d done so much, come so far. And it wasn’t enough. Not for her, anyway. Not enough to conquer her fears. She’s hoped that this project would be the one, the one to prove to herself that she was ready to tell Celestia the truth, come what may. And here, this one little detail was standing in the way. It was giving her a headache.
“Change!” she roared, the light of her magic flaring.
Twilight sat there for a few long moments, eyes closed, breathing heavily. Her head really hurt—it was the only reason she’d snapped like that. It was stupid, getting so angry at a few bits of cardboard, but she was so frustrated. She opened her eyes. And blinked.
Hovering in the air before her, still held up by her magic, were the Ten of Clouds, the Ten of Serpents, and the Sun.
* * *
The fact that a night’s sleep did little to reduce the pain in her head could not dampen Twilight’s spirits the next morning. She all but whistled to herself as she placed her notes and the Arcana in her saddlebags, and trotted out of the library and towards the train station. Before she had gone too far, however, she was brought up short by the sight of a familiar yellow pair of hind legs protruding from a hedge.
“Uh, Fluttershy?” she asked doubtfully. “Are you okay?”
There was a moment of frantic scrambling as the pegaus extracted herself.
“Oh, hi, Twilight. Um, you haven’t seen a raccoon around here, have you? He ran off, and I’ve been looking everywhere,” Fluttershy said, waving a hoof at the (apparently raccoon-less) bush.
“Sorry, I haven’t seen him.” Twilight turned away, confident in her friend’s ability to charm animals into obedience sooner or later. But, as she set off down the street, a thought occurred to her. It wouldn’t hurt, would it, just to make sure?
Carefully, she lifted the Arcana from her pack, gave it a cursory shuffle, and drew three cards. She got the Page of the Roses, the inverted Three of Gems, and the Chariot. For looking for someone lost, that was good reading. In fact, she wasn’t sure if she could come up with a better one if she had selected the cards herself.
“I think he’ll turn up very soon,” she said to Fluttershy with a smile.
Almost before she the words were out of her mouth, a grey shape trundled around a tree a few paces away. It crossed the distance to the two ponies rather slowly, stopping frequently to paw at its ears.
“Oh, dear. I think he’s sick,” Fluttershy said as she scooped the wayward raccoon onto her back. “I’d better get him home.
“Bye, Fluttershy,” Twilight called after her as the pegasus galloped away, back towards her home. She stowed the cards in her bags and continued on her way, ignoring the twinges in her skull.
She trotted briskly through Ponyville, exchanging greetings with the ponies she met on the way. However, before she reached the train station she was once again distracted, this time by a pair of raised voices.
Applejack and Rainbow Dash stood at the end of the road to Sweet Apple Acres, glaring at one another.
“He’s my brother,” Applejack was saying as Twilight approached. “An’ he’s just lookin’ out for me, like family should.”
“Fer cryin’ out loud, Rainbow, he just said—“
“I heard what he said, AJ! And I think the stupid workhorse can keep his opinions to himself!”
“Workhorse? Workhorse?” Applejack repeated, eyes narrowing.
Twilight, meanwhile, was standing some distance away, dithering. On one hoof, she didn’t like to stick her nose into a dispute between fillyfriends. On another, she didn’t like to see her friends at odds, either. Almost without thinking about it, she drew the cards.
The Knave of Virtues, Temperance, and the Sun. Well, that was alright then. They two of them would work it out. Twilight turned, and trotted away.
Behind her, Rainbow Dash drooped.
“Oh, hay… Look, I’m sorry, AJ. I get it, Big Mac’s your family, you don’t like hearing him called names. But I don’t like being accused of hurting you, either.”
“He didn’t say that, sugarcube. He said that, if you do anythin’ to hurt me, then there’ll be trouble. Don’t let it bother you, he don’t mean it.”
“He doesn’t?” Rainbow Dash blinked.
“It’s a big brother thing, love. Big Mac’s just followin’ Apple family tradition. Get drunk with him a coupla times and he’ll drop the act.”
“Oh.” Rainbow Dash brightened. “That’s okay, then.”
As she fell into step behind her fillyfriend—sure, she could walk beside her, but that’d mean missing the way her flanks moved when she walked—Rainbow Dash was vaguely aware of sharp buzzing sound, as if there was a fly perched on each of her ears. But it was easy to ignore, and the sky-blue pegasus did so. She was sure, given time, it would go away on its own.
* * *
In the skies above Canterlot, Luna wheeled and climbed through a cloud bank, moisture streaming from the tips of her wings. She loved to fly, and had since her very first winter, spent in ever-longer races against the dawn. Even now, with the stakes less cosmic, the princess of the moon found the rush of wind in her mane irresistible. Far below, she caught movement on the Equestrian plain, and dived to meet it.
“It” turned out to be the train from Ponyville. Banking to avoid the cloud of smoke being thrown up by the engine, Luna skimmed over the tender and the first few passenger cars, before descending to race alongside the train. She caught glimpses of foals’ faces pressed against the glass as she flashed by, before the buzzing in her ears registered and she nearly slammed to the ground in shock.
There was magic on that train. Powerful magic, working something big. Slowing down, Luna allowed the train to pass her, searching each window for the telltale glow. She saw nothing of the sort—but she did recognize the unicorn sitting by the window in the second car from the back.
“Twilight Sparkle?”
Her sister’s student gave her a cheerful wave, then opened the window and shouted something, but her words were lost to the wind rushing past Luna’s head. In a flash of light, the princess of the moon teleported into the car.
“Good morning, Princess,” Twilight said with a polite bow of her head, while the rest of the passengers stared. “Having a good morning flight?”
“Er… yes,” was all Luna said as she tried to hear herself think.
The buzzing was even louder now, and she could feel the power that Twilight was throwing out, rolling off of her like waves on a beach. And yet, the young unicorn didn’t appear to be doing anything.
“And how are you?” she managed when she realized Twilight was looking at her oddly.
“I’m fine—well, except for a headache, but you know how that is.”
Luna, the immortal sky goddess who had never suffered so much as a cold, nodded. “Your month of research went well, I trust.”
Twilight nodded enthusiastically. “I learned a lot. And…” she hesitated. “I think I’ve come to a decision. About… things. If that makes sense.”
It didn’t, but Luna nodded anyway. She needed to leave, to get out of Twilight’s immediate proximity, just to be able to think straight. As it was, she was maybe a minute from stumbling around like a drunken pegasus. She mouthed some pleasantries at Twilight, and teleported out of the car before her language skills eroded any more.
Flapping slowly, she watched the train pull away from her, heading towards Canterlot. So… Twilight spent a month exploring new magic, and showed up again throwing off power like a bonfire threw sparks. And made completely banal conversation as she did so. Which meant she was either a diabolical mastermind, fully capable of carry on a polite conversation even as she wielded near-cosmic-level power, or she had no idea what she was doing. All things considered, Luna thought the latter was more likely. But that meant that the unicorn was entirely unaware of the amount of power she was using, entirely unaware of the amount of strain it was putting on her. And that had the potential to go very, very badly.
As Luna materialized in the sky above Las Haygas, she remembered a conversation she and her sister had once had. They had discussed government, and whether it was safer to be obeyed out of fear, or out of love. Putting aside the obvious moral concerns, they had eventually agreed that fear was best at bringing about immediate, short-term results, while love was better at producing a stable, long-term system. It was, Luna reflected as she drew in a breath, never a lesson she’d had to apply before now.
“The first pony,” she boomed across the city, “to tell me where I can find a hornless unicorn gets to NOT spend the next decade on the moon!”
* * *
Luna’s hooves echoed off the white tiled walls as she trotted down the hallway. Fear had indeed gotten results, pointing her first to the train out of town, next to this hospice in Buenos Mareies. She only hoped she wasn’t taking too long—Twilight might not be able to afford any delays.
Turning into the correct room, Luna found herself standing at the foot of a hospital bed. It’s occupant was a dusty yellow unicorn whose horn ended in stump an inch from her forehead. The sheets were drawn up to her chin, and her face was twisted in pain. She looked up at the princess of the moon without surprise.
“Something is wrong.”
Luna nodded. “Twilight’s using new magic—magic you introduced to her—and I need to know exactly what she’s doing.”
“Nothing that I taught her. Nothing that anyone could.” She tapped a hoof on the side of her head. “I feel the threads. In here. Learning how to read them took time, but… it’s something I know how to do.”
“It’s what you told Twilight she could do.”
“And she can. But that’s not what she’s doing now. She not reading threads, she’s twisting them. Weaving them into new patterns. She’s not reading the future—she’s making it.”
Luna frowned down at Shining Upon. “Isn’t that what we all do?”
The hornless unicorn shook her head violently. “Not like this. She’s not just changing things through her own actions. She’s ensuring that others dance to her tune.” She pushed herself up on the bed, and leveled a hoof at Luna. “She’s bending the world around herself. And it’s up to everyone else to find their place in it.”
* * *
Twilight fidgeted as Celestia paged through her report on her use of Celestial Arcana. The princess of the sun had seemed a little surprised by how eager her student was to present her findings, but to Twilight, her mentor’s reaction to her work was the final piece of data she needed.
Celestia set down the parchment with a smile. “Excellent work, as always. I notice you contrast your own foretelling with prophecy and…” she checked the page. “ ‘whatever it is that Pinkie Pie does..’”
Twilight nodded. “Well, those are always involuntary. It’s something that comes upon a pony, not something that they seek out.”
“As you explain quite well,” Celestia nodded. “I’m impressed, Twilight. Once again, you’ve demonstrated your talent for studying magic, as well as performing it. Have you considered submitting this to the Academy? Your work is exemplary.”
Twilight hadn’t, mostly because she hadn’t dared to plan beyond this conversation.
“Thank you, Princess. You don’t know how much that means to me,” she said, acutely aware that she was about to tell Celestia exactly how much it meant.
But the princess of the sun merely smiled. “I would think you’d get tired of hearing it. You’ve certainly given me enough reasons to say it over the years.”
Twilight smiled back, weakly. Now was as good a time as any—especially since she and Celestia were alone. She wasn’t sure why Luna hadn’t put in an appearance, especially since she had just seen her on the train, but she was willing to take advantage of her absence, whatever its cause.
“Actually… Celestia, there was something I need to say.”
The princess’s brow furrowed. “Is something wrong, Twilight?”
“No. Not exactly. It’s… well, it’s complicated. Just let me explain? Please?”
As Celestia nodded, Twilight stood, hopping down from the simple wooden chair to pace, her hooves kicking up nervous little puffs of dust from the garden path. She tried to order her thoughts, a task made difficult by the persistent pounding in her head.
“It was a long time ago, just after you’d taken me as your student.” That was good, tell it like a story. If she did, she could pretend that she knew the ending. “I’d lived at the castle for a couple of weeks, and I went to visit my parents.”
Twilight drew in a somewhat shaky breath and looked Celestia in the eyes.
“I told them I wanted to marry you.” The unicorn forced a chuckle. “I mean, it made sense to me. I was taught that when you met a pony you wanted to spend the rest of your life, you married them. It was just how the world worked.” She shook her head and resumed pacing. “They took it quite well, considering… everything, I suppose. I imagine they thought I’d grow out of it.” Another stammering breath, another stab of pain between her ears.
“I never did.”
“Oh, Twilight…” Celestia’s voice was sad, almost pitying, and Twilight’s gaze dropped, along with her heart.
“You don’t have to say it,” she said, staring at the ground. “You want me as your student. Nothing more.”
“Twilight…” The princess of the sun looked stricken. “What I want isn’t important. I—it wouldn’t’—” she sighed. “A teacher is supposed to show you the world. Not overshadow it. It’s not my place to take that from you—no matter what my own feelings are.”
Twilight pawed at the ground in frustration. “But I’ve seen the world. Ever since I left Canterlot, I’ve gone to wonderful places and met wonderful ponies. But they’re not you, Celestia. You outshine them, without even trying. You’re the sun. And I’ve spent so long basking in your glow. How can I help but fall in love?”
She saw Celestia’s eyes widen at the last word, as if speaking it aloud made it more real, and that gave Twilight courage. She walked to where Celestia stood beside the table, speaking as she did so.
“You’ve taught me, Celestia. You know me. But please, trust me as well. Trust me that I know what I want. And…” she stopped before Celestia, looking up at the princess. “Trust yourself, to know the same thing.”
The princess of the sun said nothing, but Twilight saw something in her eyes. She leaned forward, Celestia did the same.
They were close, so close that she could feel her goddess’s breath on her muzzle. Twilight closed her eyes.
* * *
It took Luna a moment to get her bearings after she teleported back to the castle gardens. She’d meant to appear at the spot near the center, where she, Celestia, and Twilight Sparkle were meant to meet, but she’d appeared near the edge of the grounds instead. The reason for the discrepancy was made obvious as soon as she looked around: the gardens were awash in magic. It cast a strange, pale purple glow across the landscape, making things look faded and unreal.
Reality was not reinforced by some of the things Luna saw taking place. She had materialized near a large fountain, decorated with a statue of an earth pony improbably balanced on one hoof while he struck at the air with the other three. As Luna watched, the statue took off with an incongruous whistling sound, shot off over the castle’s library tower, and exploded in a dazzling array of pink, green, and blue fireworks. It was magic, unrestrained and unguided. It was power overflowing and running amok. Luna took off for the center of the garden at a dead gallop.
Along the way, she passed several guards, mostly submerged in a fountain to shelter from a cloud of enraged bees that had, until very recently, been parts of their armor. She passed an abandoned gardener’s rake in a mad waltz with a pair of shears. She passed a pair of flock of fish, fins flapping lazily as they sailed by overhead.
As she drew closer to the center of the garden, the temperature began to drop. It wasn’t long before Luna’s breath was fogging the air, and the ground under her hooves was white with frost. A little further, ice had begun to form on the trees and hedges, and she had to spread her wings to keep from toppling over on the patches of it that lay on the grass. The air was thick with fog, but she could just make out a pair of shadowy figures ahead of her. Gathering her legs beneath her, the princess of the moon reached the garden’s heart in one great leap.
It was like flying into the eye of a hurricane. The sky was clear, the air uncolored Even in the distance, the rest of the garden looked entirely placid, in stark contrast to the chaos she had just run through. And in the center of this island of sanity, her sister and Twilight Sparkle stood nose to nose.
Frost streaming from her coat, the princess of the moon bellowed
“Stop!”
* * *
At the sound of Luna’s voice, Twilight’s eyes snapped open, and she whirled around. She had been flying, soaring, and suddenly she was crashing back to earth. She would have wondered how Rainbow Dash could stand it, had she not been so shocked.
Shocked and in pain, in fact. She had managed to ignore her headache, so focused she had been on Celestia, but the pain she had forgotten was quick to reassert itself. No longer an intermittent throbbing, it had become a steady, persistent ache, that fell across her head like a blanket. She stared at the intruder, uncomprehendingly.
“Luna? Can this wait?” Celestia sounded as puzzled as Twilight felt.
“No, it cannot. You have to stop this, Twilight. Stop this now.”
The unicorn’s mouth dropped open. “What? Stop? How dare you?” she shouted, disappointment and confusion transmuted into anger in an instant. “This is none of your business. Get with the times—things have changed in a thousand years.”
Luna blinked. “What…? Never mind. Listen to me, Twilight Sparkle. You’ve done something, with the Celestial Arcana. Used it to… take control, even if you didn’t realize it. And you have to stop, before it's too late.”
The princess of the moon staggered as she felt Twilight's magic turn against her. The wild, unfocused force at work in the garden suddenly found a target in the dark blue alicorn. It wasn't violent, not yet, but it drove her hooves into the earth and pressed down on her shoulders. Luna gritted her teeth tried again.
“You’re making up the future as you go along, turning it into what you want it to be. And it’s taking its toll.”
“What are you talking about? I'm fine!” Twilight snapped, and Luna felt the invisible weight of the unicorn's magic increase slightly.
“You told me before, on the train, that you had a headache. It’s gotten worse, hasn’t it?”
Luna saw Twilight blink, saw how the corners of her eyes were tightened in pain, and stepped forward.
“You’ve been burning huge amounts of power without realizing it, and your body can only take so much.”
Luna spared a glance at her sister, saw the same mix of anger and confusion in Twilight's eyes mirrored there, and tore her gaze away. She couldn't bear to see her sister like this.
“Please, Twilight. You have to back down. Before things get any worse.” She looked pityingly between Twilight and her sister. “I know you think I interrupted something, but you have to understand—anything Celestia said were your words in her mouth, nothing more.”
“What?” Twilight and Celestia said together.
“That’s absurd!” the unicorn snapped. She spun to face her mentor, and almost toppled over. The sudden movement made her dizzy. “Celestia, tell her that— ” Twilight blinked, trying to clear the stars flashing across her vision. “Celestia?”
And then, with a terrible, shattering crack, pain exploded across her skull, driving her consciousness down, into darkness.
Chapter Three: Truth and Consequences
Soothsaying, Chapter 3: Truth and Consequences
Twilight’s dreams were fitful and fragmentary. She caught glimpses of familiar faces, all gazing upon her with unfamiliar expressions: confusion and concern and outright fear. She caught glimpses of places, too: Canterlot and Ponyville, the two places she had called home, and the myriad other towns she had visited, from Cloudsdale to distant Appleoosa. But there were other, unfamiliar scenes as well, and Twilight drifted from sunless caves to Luna’s crater-pocked prison as she tossed and turned in her sleep. The view that greeted her eyes when they finally flickered open was nothing like as majestic.
As she blinked up at the stark white ceiling, a voice said
“Ah, you’re awake.”
Pushing herself up on the pillows, Twilight looked around. She was lying in a bedroom of the palace in Canterlot, and Luna stood at the foot of her bed.
“My sister,” the princess of the moon said, “has hardly left this room for the past two days.” She glanced out the window, where the sky was glowing red with the dawn. “She would be here now, if it weren’t for her cosmic duties.”
Twilight stared around the room. She had been unconscious for two days? What had happened to her? She remembered leaving for her appointment with Celestia. She’d been looking forward to it, but then, she always was. Not even her persistent headache could dampen her spirits. Not when it had all gone so well, all until…
Twilight’s head jerked towards Luna, staring at the impassive princess with an expression of horror as the memories trickled in. She’d been happy, so happy, to see Celestia’s eyes darken with desire as she looked at her. And then Luna had come, telling her that they were her words in the Princess’s mouth, not her own. That she had taken over Celestia’s mind.
Twilight shuddered. Nightmare Moon hadn’t managed that. Discord hadn’t managed that. She fell back with sound halfway between a moan and a sob. It wouldn’t be long before she would mentioned in the same breath as those two. Nightmare Moon, bringer of eternal darkness. Discord, source of chaos and strife. And Twilight Sparkle, who had overthrown the mind of Celestia herself. The unicorn buried her head in her hooves. How could she do something like that ?
The sound of hooves on the floorboards made her look her up. Luna stood at the side of the bed, looking down at her with a sympathetic expression.
“I—how—what did I…?” Twilight stammered, trying to find the words.
Luna sighed. “Neither I nor my sister blame you, Twilight. You should hear that first. You couldn’t have known.” She shook her head. “As for the ‘how’… well, it’s taken me some time to piece it together. But, apparently, you managed to use the cards for the exact opposite of their intended purpose. You used them to tell the future—“
“I thought that was there intended purpose,” Twilight interrupted, confusion momentarily overcoming her horror.
“You used them to tell the future what it was going to be,” Luna finished. In the face of Twilight’s stare, she continued “I only know what Shining Upon told me, and what I witnessed myself. But somehow, you turned the cards around. You stopped reading the flow of the world and started bending it around you.”
“How could I? How is that even possible?”
“You’re the element of magic,” Luna said simply. “And I think sometimes we—you, and my sister, and myself—forget what that means. Magic is not just something that unicorns do. It isn’t even something that ponies do. It’s a fact , a basic force of our world. And that makes you… an avatar of that force, perhaps. A focal point. A sufficiently long lever. But even so, the amount of power needed to do what you were doing—unconsciously, no less—put you under enormous strain. Permanent damage…”
Twilight’s hooves flew to her brow, the crack that was the last thing she had heard echoing in her memory. They found her horn, whole as it had ever been. She tapped it gingerly, as if might crumble at her touch, as Luna finished.
“… was a very real possibility. Fortunately, my sister intervened before it could come to that.”
“What? How? It shattered! I heard it shatter!” Twilight lowered her hooves slowly.
“That, she should tell you herself. And,” Luna looked up at the ceiling, “if she would stop eavesdropping from the roof , she would be able to.”
There was a flash of golden light as Celestia materialized in the room.
“I was not eavesdropping,” the princess of the sun huffed. “I was merely watching the sunrise to ensure it went properly.”
“Of course you weren't, sister.” Luna trotted back to the foot of the bed, allowing Celestia to take up her previous position by
Twilight stared up at her princess. At her mentor. At the mare she loved. “Celestia…Princess, I’m so…”
“Shh. I know.” Her voice was soft and soothing, and she bent her head to nuzzle Twilight, just for a moment. “It’s so good to see you safe, Twilight. After what happened, I was afraid…” she trailed off, shaking her head.
Twilight felt her eyes fill with tears. She didn’t deserve Celestia. Not as a teacher, certainly not as a lover. After all she had done, she would have no right to consider herself ill-used if she had woken up on the moon—and yet, the princess was still concerned for her safety.
From the foot of the bed, Luna coughed. “You clearly have a lot to talk about. However, sister, before that: Twilight asked how, exactly, you managed to stop her.”
“Oh. Well,” Celestia said uncomfortably, “when I heard Luna explain what was going on, and realized what it was doing to you… What I mean is, you were close to collapsing, and the time it could have taken to talk you down… I needed to act, and…”
Twilight stared at Celestia in confusion. What could make the princess of the sun as nervous as a foal caught stealing sweets? What strength must the princess of the sun must have resorted to, to stop her wayward student? All the power of the sun, brought to bear against one fragile unicorn. Who knew what sort of damage—however accidental—that divine power might inflict on mortal flesh?
* * *
The two sister goddesses stood in the palace gardens. In the distance, commotion rose as the rogue magic dissipated and the dazed, bruised, and confused royal guards attempted to regain control of the situation. Celestia stood tall, balanced on just two legs, her forehooves held above her head. Her sister stared at her, fear and wonder fighting for control of her face.
“You hit her with a chair.” Luna's voice was almost awed.
Celestia dropped down onto all fours, letting the two halves of the stricken piece of furniture fall from her hooves. Ignoring her gaping sister, she knelt by Twilight's head.
“You hit her with a chair.”
The princess of the sun brushed Twilight's mane away from her forehead, leaving a pale red streak of blood on her white coat. She conjured a piece of linen in a flash of golden light, and began to wind it carefully around her student's head.
“You hit her with a chair!”
“Yes, Luna.” Celestia barked, head snapping up to glare at her sister. “I did. I panicked. Now my student is hurt, and in need of my care. If you are done stating the obvious--” She was interrupted by the arrival of two of the royal guards, looking harried but otherwise unharmed. “Your highness, your highness.” the one in the lead said, with a cursory bow. “We're under magical attack. If you would both please accompany me, we should get under cover while we have a chance.”
“Thank you, sergeant.” Celestia slipped easily back into the role of the gracious monarch. Only someone who knew her as Luna did could have noticed the undercurrent of strain in her voice. “However, the danger has passed, and it is time to tend to the wounded.”
The guard bowed once more, moving from assertive to deferential with the departure of the emergency. “Of course, your highness.” His eyes fell on the unicorn his princess was leaning over. “Shall we escort Twilight Sparkle to the infirmary?”
“No!” Celestia closed her eyes, then repeated, more quietly, “No. Search the garden. Tend to your own. I will look after my student.”
Luna watched as her sister carefully wrapped the unicorn mare in a golden aura, laying her gently across her back.
“Sergeant.” The princess of the moon said, looking away from a scene that suddenly seemed too personal to observe. “I will help you collect the injured, and repair what damage I can.”
“Thank you, your highness.”
“Yes,” Celestia murmured. “Thank you.”
* * *
“What my sister is heroically avoiding saying,” Luna drawled from across the room, “is that--”
“Ihityouwithachair,” Celestia stammered out.
Twilight blinked. “You what?”
“I had to!” Celestia wailed. “You were in pain, Twilight—you said so yourself. And you wouldn’t stop, so I—I did what I had to do.”
“I—no, it’s okay, really. I was just surprised,” Twilight stammered, more than a little confused by Celestia’s apparent anguish.
Across the room, Luna was edging towards the door. “I believe I’m needed on the other side of the castle. I’ll just go and check on things.”
Neither mare looked around as the door clicked shut behind her.
“Princess…” Twilight swallowed nervously. “I don’t understand. I mean, I understand why you did it. You had to. But I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”
Celestia blinked down at her student. “Because I hurt you, Twilight. Do I need another reason? I have always hated raising my hoof against my subjects, especially when they are as dear to me as you…” The princess of the sun sighed. “It just seems a terribly shabby way to begin a relationship.”
“A…a relationship?” Twilight stammered. “But Luna told me that everything in the garden was just my… wishful thinking.”
“Um…good?” Twilight hazarded. “Does that mean I didn’t accidentally use a deck of cards to warp reality?”
“Well… no. She was right about that part. But she was wrong about the amount of control you had over the process.”
Celestia slipped, apparently without meaning to, into her teacher’s voice. “Tell me, Twilight, why do you think it fell to Luna to travel across Equestria and back to find out what was going on? Why was it that I didn’t notice anything was wrong?”
“I don’t see how that helps. You didn’t notice because I didn’t want you to.”
“Ah. But I’ve talked to my sister, you see, and to your friends in Ponyville. Ponies noticed when your magic touched them, even if they didn’t realize it. There were signs. Symptoms.” The alicorn paused, reaching out to smooth Twilight's mane. “But I felt nothing, not even when Luna needed to physically push through your magic to reach us. You were exerting considerable power, but not doing anything in particular with it—apart from keeping it turned away from me, and from yourself. Even when you didn’t know what you were doing, you were shielding us.”
“But you just said, I didn’t know what I was doing. It’s not something I can take credit for.”
“Twilight, if you were willing to accept blame for something you did unintentionally, you must be willing to accept praise as well. But even that misses the point—my actions in the garden were my own, Twilight. And no one else’s.”
For the first time since she had woken up, Twilight smiled.
“You mean…”
“I mean,” said Celestia, leaning closer, “that we can make a better beginning than me hitting you with a chair.”
Luna kept her ear pressed to the door until she heard a soft moan. Then, she walked away, fighting the urge to whistle. All things considered, she thought that had gone rather well.
* * *
Despite that, she made an effort to catch Twilight alone after she was up and about. It took a surprisingly long time for the young unicorn to leave her sister’s shadow, which was, Luna supposed, understandable. And, of course, there were her friends from Ponyville to consider. Knowing her sister to be somewhat preoccupied, Luna had sent word to them of Twilight's injury. They had arrived the same day, and fussed over the injured unicorn almost as much as Celestia had. Between Twilight's plaintive apologies and their own relief that their friend was all right, it had been some time before they parted ways. So, it was with some satisfaction that the princess of the moon pounced as her quarry stepped out of the library.
“Ah, Twilight Sparkle. I was hoping to run into you.”
The unicorn’s head jerked up, a slightly hunted look in her eyes. “Oh. Is this about the sibling speech?”
Luna blinked, nonplussed. “The what?”
Twilight blushed, very slightly. “Just something Rainbow Dash warned me about. I guess you’re not here to threaten me with a ghastly end if I break your sister’s heart?”
Luna chuckled, waving a hoof airily. “Far from it. Actually, I wanted to tell you not to let my sister over-awe you. I know better than anyone what an infuriating mare she can be, and you shouldn’t be afraid to crack the whip.” Luna paused as Twilight’s blush deepened. “Metaphorically speaking, of course. I’ve often speculated that a night or two of sleeping on the couch would do her a world of good.”
Twilight laughed, then looked around guiltily, as if someone might have heard. “Actually, Princess there was something I wanted to ask you. I’ve been meaning to talk to Celestia about it, but…”
“You’ve both had other things on your minds,” Luna interrupted smoothly. She wondered how many shades she could make the unicorn turn in one conversation.
“Um. Yes. But I wanted to know was,” Twilight bit her lip. “Just how much damage did I do? I mean, it’s been hard getting straight answers out Celestia, but I know things got kind of crazy near the end.
“Yes, they did, didn’t they? Well, I don’t have a list off the top of my head, but if I had to guess…” Luna paused, then rattled off “One statue exploded, two rakes rooted, sprouted, and blossomed, three hedges damaged by frost. Two guard uniforms turned pink, two turned to bees, and one to chocolate. Two guards treated for stings after being attacked by their uniforms, one for a stomachache after he ate his. That last one might lead to a review of our hiring policies, to be quite frank.”
Catching Twilight’s wide-eyed stare, Luna smiled and went on “I wouldn’t worry too much, Twilight. It was something of an unusual afternoon, but hardly the first this castle has had to endure—nor the last, I have no doubt. What happened with your friends in Ponyville is of course your own concern, but given that they fussed over you almost as much as my sister did, I doubt you have much to worry about.” She turned and began to trot down the corridor. “Do take care of yourself, Twilight Sparkle. You’ve no idea the state my sister works herself into when she thinks you’re in trouble.”
“Princess.”
Luna turned. Twilight was regarding her with a steady gaze and a serious expression.
“Yes?”
“Why are you so good at it? The whole… relationship thing? Because Celestia and I compared notes, and you were deliberately leaving us together at every opportunity. How did you know?”
Luna gave a small smile and looked up at the ceiling. “The sun and the moon. Day and night. They’re not just times, you know. They’re more important than that. They’re entire realms of their own, with their own associations and orders. So, just as my sister represents, in her way, not just daylight but also industriousness, the harvest, and good fortune, I have my own aspects. Fields that I enjoy a certain insight into. More private, generally. Secretive, and quiet. After all,” she smirked, “the night is so much more romantic than the day.”
* * *
That night, as the sliver of the moon rose into the sky, Twilight found herself in Celestia's tower. She had visited the princess's private quarters many times as a filly—then, she had entered with a mingled sense of eagerness and trepidation, always wondering if her lessons were proceeding to the princess's liking. And, no matter how many times Celestia her efforts for the day had conjured that gentle smile, Twilight never basked in the glow that smile gave her for too long. The next day was always a fresh slate, always a fresh chance for her to fulfill her teacher's trust in her—or to disappoint. Even now, with
“You're trembling.” Celestia stopped, lifting her wing from Twilight's shoulders.
“Sorry,” Twilight said with an uncertain smile. “Just old memories, I guess.”
They stepped inside, and Twilight looked up at her... what was Celestia to her, exactly? Her fillyfriend? The word seemed too small, too trivial to apply to the alicorn. Her lover, then? Twilight blushed. She wasn't that either. Not technically. Not yet.
The princess of the sun turned to face the purple unicorn. “Twilight... you know that you have never disappointed me, don't you?”
Twilight met Celestia's eyes only for a moment before glancing away. “I know.”
“Then why do you always strive to prove yourself, again and again?” Celesita's horn glowed as she lifted a familiar deck of cards from its place on a bookshelf. “That is what you meant to do with your research into the Arcana, yes?”
As she spoke, the alicorn began to shuffle the cards, apparently absent-mindedly.
“Yes,” Twilight agreed, eying the cards nervously.
Catching her expression, Celestia smiled slightly, then fanned the deck out, allowing Twilight to inspect the cards. Each and everyone was plain, white cardboard. “Perhaps you broke the deck somehow. Or perhaps you made these cards your own, and they will not work for any other. In either case, I believe you should have this back. If you wish to, I think continuing your research might be wothwhile.”
“You're... you're giving them back to me? After everything that happened?” Twilight's mouth dropped open. “Why ?”
“Because I trust you,” Celestia said gently. “I trust your skill, and your intelligence, and your heart. You proved all those things to me long ago, Twilight. I could not dream of doubting you know.”
Carefully, Twilight took the cards from Celestia's grip, and set them down. “Thank you, Celestia. And I know that I don't have to. Not really. But...” She trailed off, helplessly.
“But you don't understand why.” The princess of the sun placed a hoof under Twilight's chin, drawing the unicorn's gaze to her own. “Do you know why I love you, Twilight Sparkle? Not because you are clever. Not because you are brave. Not because you are kind, or powerful, or beautiful—though you are all these things, and more.” Twilight felt the tears trying to escape, and saw her own watery gaze reflected in the alicorn's eyes. “I love you because of the joy you take in the world, in experiencing it and understanding it and making it better, piece by piece. Because that I know that even if you were to swear off magic today, and never cast another spell, your love of learning, your spark, would still make you worthy of being my student. Because--” Celestia paused, swallowed audibly, and continued “Because even though I have seen so much that so many wonders have become commonplace, I can look into your eyes and see the world reflected back, as bright and enthralling as though I was seeing it for the first time.”
Both mares were weeping, overcome with emotion too long hidden, too long delayed. Twilight found herself speechless, humbled before her teacher's outpouring of love. Nothing she could say could match that. So instead, she leaned forward and kissed mingling her tears and Celestia's own, returning all of the trust, acceptance, and love of Celestia's words in that one, heated embrace.
* * *
Outside, Luna took wing and flew across the castle, gliding lazily on the cool breezes. The curtains of her sister’s room were firmly shut, but a lantern cast familiar shadows against the drapes. As the figures began to move, Luna turned away, and sent a cloud to wrap itself around the tower for good measure. Some things, she decided, it was better not to know.
