The Successors

Chapters

1: Sisters
2: Hide and Seek
3: Ghost Story
4: Nightmare in the Forest
5: Love Heals
6: Experience
7: Good Enough
8: Somnambula
9: Gathering Storm
10: Return to the Everfree
11: The Far North
12: Inseparable
13: Open Insurrection
14: Inner Light
15: Ascension (Part 1)
16: Ascension (Part 2)
17: Ascension (Part 3)
18: Sunrise

1: Sisters

A cool wind swept low across the field. The high grass danced in the breeze, shimmering golden beneath the clear blue of the sky. Somewhere, deep amidst the waving stalks, a small yellow earth pony lay curled upon the ground. She quivered – not from cold, for it was a warm summer's day – but from fear. She was hiding.

"Summer Sun!" cried a voice from somewhere nearby, calling out her name. Carried on the wind, it sounded distant and hollow, and scarily unfamiliar to the little filly. She shrank even closer to the ground like some burrowing creature trying to guard itself against predators. Summer shivered even more fiercely as she heard the sound of light hoof-falls approaching. "Please," she mumbled. "I just wanna be alone."

"Summer? Are you out here?"

Summer looked up. "Blue Moon? Is that you?"

"Of course it's me!" Another filly, white-coated and dark-maned, stepped forward through the waving grass. She looked down at Summer with bemused eyes. "What are you doing down there?"

"Oh…nothing." Immediately Summer rose to her hooves and came face-to-face with her sister. Both foals were small enough to remain hidden in the tall grass even when standing. "I'm sorry," she muttered, her eyes cast down in embarrassment. "I didn't know it was you."

"No, I'm sorry, Summer. I didn't mean to scare you. I just came out looking for you. Nopony knew where you went."

"Oh…I'm okay, Blue. I was just scared."

"Scared?" Blue Moon was puzzled. "Scared of what?"

"Of what Princess Celestia said," replied Summer. Her voice grew tremulous and her eyes widened in fright as worry seized her little heart. "Why did she visit us, Blue? What did she want? What did she mean about 'succeeding' her?"

"I don't know, Summer. I didn't hear everything she said. But I think it had something to do with our Cutie Marks."

"Our…Cutie Marks?" Summer echoed confusedly. She looked back down at her flank – on it was a symbol of a small yellow sun with pointed orange rays. It was a mark she had carried since birth.

"Mm hmm," Blue Moon affirmed. "She said something about them being a sign."

"A…sign? Of what?"

"I don't know. I didn't get to hear that part. That was when Mom and Dad noticed me and sent me out to look for you. I don't think they even knew we could hear them."

Summer sat down again, settling herself amongst the tall grasses. "I'm sorry, Blue. I just got really scared. Princess Celestia sounded so serious…I just thought something bad was gonna happen."

"It's okay, Summer," Blue Moon assured her. She sat down next to her, smiling. "Nothing bad's going to happen, I promise. I'll take care of you, okay?"

"Okay," replied Summer. She closed her eyes and leaned against her sister, who nuzzled her gently in return. They stayed there for a long while, peaceful and warm in one another's company, hidden in the grass while the wind-blown stalks whispered hauntingly in their ears.

It was nighttime in Canterlot, but the sky was ablaze with light. The moon glowed white against an inky backdrop dotted with countless silvery pinpoints, bathing the sleeping city in a cool, pallid glow. The Royal Palace was specially imposing, its pale spires and turrets shining with reflected moonlight and casting long deep shadows over the surrounding cityscape. Silence and stillness ruled the night air, and only the occasional sound of wind disturbed the tranquility of the late hour. Though guards stood at every gate and outer doorway, the palace grounds were devoid of any movement and lay cloaked in the castle's great shadow.

Within the palace, a lone pony trotted quietly down a dim hallway. She was lean and tall, winged and horned, and clad in the regalia of an Equestrian princess. Her coat was as white as radiant moonlight, and her long flowing mane and tail as black as a starless midnight, and on each flank she bore the symbol of a pale blue moon, slightly waning. She walked in silence, hearing only the sound of her silver shoes as they clacked softly on the marble floor.

At length she came to a stop before a large, arched set of double doors. Turning to face it, she lowered her head and closed her dark blue eyes in concentration. "Come on," she muttered softly to the doors. "Open. It's not that difficult." At her command, her horn started to glow with a bluish light. A similar glow appeared around the archway, but it was faint and flickered like a dying flame.

More power was brought into focus, and the glow intensified. She was exhausted mentally, her magical stamina utterly spent from hours and hours of rigorous training. Still she refused to give up; if she couldn't open a simple doorway just because she was a little tired, what chance had she of ever mastering the arcane arts?

At last the glow faded altogether, dying out of its own accord. She was simply too worn out to perform even so easy a feat of magic as opening a door, and this realization caused her heart to sink. Even after so much training, the simplest of spells still required tremendous effort and concentration. At times she feared she may never get the hang of spellcasting and this worried her terribly: how would anypony in Equestria respect her authority as the new princess if she couldn't even use her own horn properly? She made up her mind to step up her practice regimen in the coming weeks. But now, at this moment, she was just too tired to try any harder.

Sighing in defeat, she pushed the doors open with a hoof and stepped through into the royal throne room.

"Princess Aurora! You've returned!"

The princess started, but then relaxed once she saw who had called her name. He was a unicorn, gray-coated and maned, with a bushy white moustache on his snout and a monocle perched upon his left eye. He smiled at her, or at least seemed to smile, for his moustache obscured his mouth completely.

"Oh. Hello, Glass Eye," she greeted her advisor. "I wasn't expecting to find anypony here at this hour…well, anypony other than my sister, at least."

"I've simply been awaiting your return, Princess," he explained. "May I ask how your magic training went?"

A shadow passed over Aurora's face. "It was…." Her mind scrabbled to find the proper word. "…frustrating. But no more so than usual. Lord Stargazer tells me I'm making progress."

"And I'm sure you can trust his word on that matter. If it's not too much to say, your highness, I believe you are most fortunate that the University board selected him as your teacher. There is no finer scholar of the arcane arts in all of Equestria."

"I know, I know. He said that himself…too many times for me to count," said Aurora, muttering that last bit under her breath. Glass Eye merely continued to smile.

She glanced about the room. Her silvery-white throne stood on a raised dais of marble at the far end, and just beside it sat another throne, gilded and seated with deep red cushions. Both seats were empty. "Has my sister returned from flight training yet?" she asked, turning back to Glass Eye.

"She has, your highness," he answered her. "Princess Corona arrived not more than an hour ago. She was very tired, and left for her bedchambers to take a nap. She asked that I awaken her when you return."

"That won't be necessary," said Aurora. "I'll go and see her myself." She turned and made for the door once again. Already she could feel fatigue tugging at her eyelids. Though she was grateful that the Arcane University and Cloudsdale Flight Academy had found tutors for her and her sister, this late-night course schedule was beginning to wear on them both. It sounded like Corona had the right idea: a quick nap before dawn would be downright heavenly after so long and frustrating a night of training. By now the night was far too old for Aurora to get any sleep – indeed, by the clock it was almost dawn – but at least seeing her sister again would bring her some peace of mind.

"If I may trouble you for just a moment longer, Princess," Glass Eye called out, "there is an issue about which I'd like to speak with you first."

"Issue?" Aurora stopped in her tracks and turned back to look at her advisor. "What sort of an issue?"

"A matter of royal duty, your highness," he explained. "I spoke with the advisory council earlier tonight. As I'm sure you know, we have been handling most of the, shall we say, grunt-work of keeping the nation afloat during this transitional period."

"Of course. And I truly do appreciate that," said Aurora, speaking sincerely. Were it not for Glass Eye and his peers, she and her sister would never have been able to maintain their position on the Equestrian throne. Many of Celestia and Luna's old advisors had volunteered to work with them, and to manage the more complex political issues that arose while the new princesses learned to use their horns and wings.

"It's no trouble at all, your highness," Glass Eye assured her. "The interest of the entire nation is at stake, and we are all glad to help you however we can. But, given how busy we've been renegotiating our treaty with the Griffon Kingdom, certain internal matters have regrettably fallen by the wayside. As such, the council seems to be in agreement: it is time that you and Princess Corona begin taking on some governing duties of your own."

"Of our own?" echoed the princess. "What sort of duties are you talking about?"

"Rather important ones, in this case." His horn glowed pale gray, and with his magic he summoned a scroll. "Just yesterday the palace mailroom received this: a compiled list of complaints and concerns from a small town called Ponyville. They've been receiving such letters from many small towns as of late – all of Equestria wishes to know that their new government is looking after their interests, but the one from Ponyville was particularly troubling. The council thought that you and your sister ought to handle it personally."

"Why is that?"

"As a test of your leadership abilities, mostly. They want to know if you'll be ready to run the country once your training is finished. After all, there's more to being a princess than just being skilled flyers and magicians."

"Of course," agreed Aurora. "That sounds like a fine idea. I'm certain we can…that we…we…."

A long and sudden yawn disrupted her train of thought; her exhaustion was at last starting to make itself known. "Err…on second thought," she began sheepishly, "do you think this could wait until later today? I'm in no shape to deal with anything right now – I think I'll go to bed just after sunrise, and we can discuss it after I've had some rest."

"Certainly, your highness. But I must press that this issue cannot wait indefinitely. It is not only a test of your abilities. Ponyville's problems are genuine, and need to be dealt with in a timely manner."

"I understand," the princess assured him. "And I really do care. But their problems will never be dealt with if I can't get some sleep."

Glass Eye "smiled" at her once more. "Very well. Then I wish you a good morning, princess."

"Good morning to you too, Glass Eye."

She left the throne room, quietly making her way up the long and winding torch-lit staircase to the uppermost tower of the palace, where she and Corona's bedchambers were located. Just outside Corona's door she stopped; it briefly crossed her mind to try and open this door by magic, but she thought better of it. She was far too tired, and such an attempt would be doomed to failure anyway. Instead she simply pushed open the door with a hoof.

A great yellow mass filled her field of vision the instant she set foot inside.

"Blue! You're back!" Aurora felt her sister's forelegs wrap themselves around her in a warm embrace. After a tight squeeze, Corona stepped back and looked her in the eye. She was slightly shorter than her twin sister, golden-maned, and her coat was a faint, soft yellow color. Her face was bright and her voice cheery, though her eyes were slightly bloodshot. "Come on in!"

"Hello, Summer," said Aurora, smiling warmly. More than anything, it was nice to hear somepony calling her by her own name, not "your highness," or "Princess Aurora." Here, she was just Blue Moon, sister of Summer Sun, and nothing more. It was something that she shared only with her sister. Their names were all that they had left of their old lives, and Aurora never wanted to let that go.

"I'm surprised to see you up and about," she said to Corona. "Glass Eye told me that you were taking a nap."

"I tried taking one, but I just couldn't sleep. I guess I was a little anxious, waiting for you to get back," Corona replied, her tone of voice darkening ever so slightly. "You were gone a lot longer than usual tonight. But I'm glad you're back now!"

"I'm glad to be back, too," Aurora said as she stepped into the room. It was a beautiful and spacious bedchamber, with rounded walls and a huge circular bed positioned neatly against the far wall. The bed was overspread by a white coverlet upon which was emblazoned a yellow sun with eight pointed orange rays. It had been tailor-made by the finest quilt-makers in Canterlot to match the new sun princess's Cutie Mark. Her gleaming fire-orange regalia rested by a dresser on the opposite wall from the bed.

Corona continued to beam at her sister. "So how was magic training?" she asked, her voice once again bright and cheery.

"Training was miserable," Aurora replied. She strode wearily to Corona's bed and threw herself across it, her long dark mane spilling over its opposite end. "And Stargazer was insufferable, as always. I could probably handle his high standards if he weren't quite so critical. It's as if he expects me to be as good at magic as he is."

"Well, he's kind of got a point, doesn't he?" said Corona. She crawled up onto the bed herself and lay at Aurora's side. "I mean sure, he's the best magician in the world, but you're a princess! You've got more power in that horn of yours than he could even dream of! All you need now is a little more training, right?"

Aurora rolled over onto her stomach, scowling fiercely. "Lord Stargazer is a Canterlot noble. If he's the finest magician in the world, it's only because he was born into a family wealthy enough to send him to the best schools, and buy him the best books, and to set him up at the best university. He didn't have to earn his status as the 'world's greatest magician.' It's been handed to him on a silver platter practically since foalhood. I have to start from scratch: no experience, no prior training, no instinct. He shouldn't treat me like a failure just because I'm not as good as he is. Once he gets around to teaching you, I'm sure you'll understand."

Corona fell silent, seemingly unable to come up with a response. For a few moments the two sisters simply sat in mildly uncomfortable quiet, broken at last when Aurora spoke up again out of the blue.

"How did your flying lessons go?"

"Um…awesome! Yeah, they were great," Corona answered. "I, uh…well, I'm still having trouble taking off…and staying airborne…and, uh…landing…."

There was a short pause.

"Okay, so I'm not really doing all that great," Corona continued, her voice suddenly sullen. "But I'm trying, Blue Moon, I really am. It's just that there's a lot of studying involved, see? Flight mechanics and musculature diagrams and air resistance…so many things to think about all at once. It's a lot more complicated than just flapping my wings."

"I know, I know," Aurora assured her. She lowered her head ashamedly. "Flight training isn't going very well for me, either. I haven't gotten off the ground in over a week." She frowned, and Corona frowned with her. Then she remembered that they had a job to do. Sitting herself up, she rolled off of the bed and rose to her hooves. "Well, are you ready for the sunrise?"

"You bet I am!" replied Corona. The sun princess used her own magic to draw back the curtains and open the long glass doors which led to her balcony, and together they stepped outside.

The view from their balcony was splendid. From the high tower they could see all of Equestria unfolding far below them: moonlit mountains, wide rivers shimmering with reflected starlight, vast, grassy plains and dark woods stretching out in all directions as far as the eye could see. The moon hung solemnly over the scene, waiting to be put to rest so that the sun might rise in its place.

As one, both sisters closed their eyes in concentration. Aurora summoned her willpower and her horn began to glow soft blue. Though she couldn't see it, she could sense Corona doing the same just beside her. Her sister's magic radiated like warmth from a hearth, and from it Aurora drew strength for herself. Energy flowed in harmony between the two as they brought their magic into focus.

Mentally they reached out, spanning the length of the sky with their will. Each began to feel a tremendous weight straining upon her hold, but kept it under their control by using one another's magical willpower as counterbalances. The weight shifted between them, falling and rising in turn, and soon it settled into what felt like a comfortable resting position. After that, they both felt the weight diminish, and suddenly it seemed to lift itself from them entirely.

Aurora opened her eyes. The sky above her head was now a soft blue, and at the very edge of her vision a faint line of glowing orange peeked over the horizon, silhouetting the distant mountains and casting bold shadows across the landscape. The moon had vanished, and the sun had now begun its long climb across the sky.

Corona stood blinking by her side. "Did…did I do a good job?" she asked, her voice weak and worn-out.

"Of course," Aurora replied. "You always do."

"T-thanks." She took a step back and stumbled slightly. "I'm…I'm feelin' kinda tired…."

A realization crept slowly into Aurora's mind, accompanied by a tinge of guilt. Raising the sun was a difficult feat of magic, and Aurora had been so exhausted herself that she had allowed most of that burden to fall onto her sister. It was no wonder she suddenly seemed so drained.

"It's all right, Summer," she said, softly and caringly. She walked to Corona's side, giving her a body to lean against. "Let's get you to bed, okay?"

"M'kay," Corona mumbled. Already her eyes were half-closed, and sleep was beginning to take hold of her.

Carefully, Aurora led her unsteady sister back to bed, pausing only to shut the door behind them and draw the curtains over it. She pulled down the sheets and comforter and Corona crawled beneath them, resting her golden head against her pillow and wriggling into a comfortable position. As Aurora pulled the sheets back up to her neck, Corona began to speak again.

"D'you think…" she said softly, already half-asleep. "D'you think Celestia 'n Luna would be proud of us?"

A sad smile came to Aurora's lips. "Of course they would, Summer," she answered just as quietly. "I know they would."

Corona's only reply was a gentle smile, and a mumbled "G'night, sis."

"Good night, Summer," said Aurora, not bothering to remind her that it was actually morning. For a few seconds she merely stood and waited for another response, but one never came; Corona was already fast asleep. The dark-maned princess leaned in and softly nuzzled her cheek. "Sleep tight, sister."

After that, Aurora crept quietly from the room. She crossed the hall to her own bedroom. It was modeled much like her sister's, but with the color scheme altered to reflect her own Cutie Mark. After taking a moment to remove her regalia, she walked to her bedside and pulled back the covers. For a pony so exhausted, the blank white linen looked like a cloudy heaven. She crawled beneath the sheets, laid her head on her soft blue pillow, and fell at once into a sound slumber.

She dreamed of home.

2: Hide and Seek

Hide and Seek had never been Summer Sun’s favorite game – at least, not when she played it with her sister. The basic premise involved separating herself from Blue Moon for a long period of time, and she didn’t like that at all. Having to be “it” was always the worst, but hiding was no picnic either. Either way there was always that fear in the back of her mind that she may never see her sister again. It was a silly thing to think, of course – it was just a game, after all – but she’d never been able to shake the feeling. It just bothered her, and there was nothing she could do about it.

The big problem was that Blue Moon loved to play Hide and Seek. It was just the sort of challenge she enjoyed trying to overcome, one that tasked her attentiveness, her skill, and her patience. She knew it sometimes troubled her sister, but there simply wasn’t anypony else around to play with; so from time to time Summer gave in and agreed to play.

Now was such a time. Summer was “it,” and Blue Moon had been hiding for nearly an hour. Her search had led her deep into a nearby wood. The trees grew thick and close together, their broad trunks covered with moss and ivy. Vines hung from overhead, and the foliage below was so dense that she often found herself crashing wildly through the green in her efforts to forge ahead. By now her soft yellow coat was flecked with dirt and covered in tiny scratches.

She was quite lost; of this much Summer was certain. It had been a mistake playing Hide and Seek so close to the woods, she now realized. The forest was frightening and unfamiliar, but she had been determined to find Blue Moon as quickly as possible, and so she’d made the reckless decision of charging in unprepared. Only just now did she come to see how great a mistake that had been.

It was getting late. The orange sun sank to edge of the horizon, and in the gloomy evening the woods seemed even more frightening than ever. Gnarled, twisted trees leered down at her from all sides, and their shadows grew deeper and darker as twilight began to fall.

At last she could take it no more. “Blue Moon? Where are you?!” she called out, her voice frantic. “I don’t wanna play out here anymore! I’m scared!”

“I’m right here, Summer.”

Summer wheeled around at the sound of her sister’s voice. She spied Blue Moon’s head rising from behind a huge fallen trunk.

“I’m sorry, sis. I didn’t mean to scare you.” She climbed over the log and quickly made her way to Summer’s side. “We don’t have to play this anymore if you don’t want to.”

“It’s just these woods,” said Summer, glancing at their surroundings. “I didn’t wanna play so close to them. I don’t know how to find my way around.”

This was true for both fillies: not long ago, their family had moved closer to Canterlot for reasons that had not been made entirely clear to them. Blue Moon suspected that it had something to do with the visit Princess Celestia had paid them a few months ago, but of more than that she was unsure. Their new home had a wide backyard that ended at the edge of this unfamiliar forest. It was a very pleasant place to live, but it was all new to the two sisters and they had yet to learn their way around.

“I wanna go home, Blue,” Summer continued, “but I’m pretty sure we’re lost.”

“Don’t you worry, sis. I drew us a map. We’ll be home in no time!” With that, Blue Moon reached with her mouth into the foal-sized saddlebag she wore and drew out a folded piece of parchment.

“A map? When did you make that?”

The dark-maned filly laid the map on the ground between them. “I’ve been working on it for a week,” she explained. “See? We’re still just on the edge of the woods.” She indicated a large tree marked on the map, then pointed to a nearby elm. “If I’m right, that tree’s got a hole on the other side of it facing home. All we have to do is go that way.”

The two walked around to the other side of the tree; and sure enough, a great hole opened in its trunk. Birds appeared to be nesting in it.

Upon seeing this, Summer sighed in relief. “Thanks, Blue,” she said. “It’s amazing how you’re always thinking ahead. I was afraid we’d never find our way home.”

“You won’t ever need to worry about that,” Blue Moon replied with a smile. “I promised I’d take care of you, remember?”

Summer returned her sister’s smile. “Of course I do! You’re always taking care of me, sis. Thanks.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Summer. It’s what I’m here for.”

Guided by Blue Moon’s map, the two fillies started to make their way towards home.

Corona awoke feeling a little confused. Though her curtains were drawn, daylight still streamed into the room from around their edges; but it seemed too warm and too bright, not like the pale yellow light of early morning. Curious, she rose groggily from her bed and walked to the balcony door. Still too sleepy to bring her magical energies into focus, she simply pulled back the curtains with her mouth. Immediately her suspicions were confirmed: the sun was already high overhead, the sky was a bold shade of blue, and the air was warm and breezy. It was mid-afternoon.

Now she knew something was off. Had she simply overslept? It certainly felt that way, for her sleep had been so deep and restful that it must have lasted for many hours, conceivably all morning. But why had no one awoken her earlier?

She thought back. Vague memories of yesterday arose in her mind as sleepiness subsided. She recalled last night, chatting with her sister, and raising the sun together…but after that, nothing. She must have fallen asleep then.

A soft growl disturbed Corona’s thoughts. She glanced quickly about her room, searching for its source, only to realize moments later that it had been her empty stomach. She’d barely eaten a thing all yesterday because of her long flight training session, and now she found that she was starving. Breakfast was called for – or rather lunch, at this hour. Taking a moment to don her regalia, she left her room and climbed quickly down the tower’s long staircase.

Near the base of the tower was a modest-sized private dining hall, reserved for the princesses and their personal staff. It being mid-afternoon, too late for lunch but far too early for dinner, there were no other ponies in the hall save for a royal chef. He happily prepared a meal for Corona, which she ate alone and in silence.

Her hunger sated, Corona decided at once to find her sister. Aurora was usually there to greet her when she awoke, explaining her plans for the day and keeping Corona’s mind occupied. Without her sister close at hoof, the sun princess felt rather aimless – though she had flight lessons scheduled again for later in the day, there seemed to be nothing to bide her time until then. Surely Aurora would have something for her to do.

First she checked the throne room and found it vacant. Some guards were posted near the door; when asked, they said that Princess Aurora and Glass Eye had been about much earlier in the day, but had since departed. The Royal Court, where the princesses’ council of advisors now convened, yielded similar results: no one there had seen Aurora recently, or had any idea where she might be found.

Soon Corona was reduced to wandering up and down the palace hallways, sometimes passing guards or other ponies and asking them if they had seen her sister. (Nopony had, or else it had been many hours since they last saw her.) The long passageways all looked more or less the same: round-roofed and walled with white stone and golden candle-holders, and richly-colored rugs spread across the floor; but as her wandering dragged on they seemed less and less familiar, ending and intersecting in places that didn’t seem quite right in the princess’s memory. Before long she realized that she was lost.

Since coming to live in Canterlot, her presence had only been required in a small number of places: the throne room, the main hall, sometimes the Royal Court, and so on. She had never taken the time to truly explore the vast and labyrinthine building in its entirety. Now, standing at a bewildering four-hallway intersection, she wished she had done so a long time ago.

“Blue Moon? Where are you?” she called out – she had little hope of actually finding her sister at this point, but she didn’t know what else she could do. “I’m lost! This place is huge!

“I’m right here, Summer.” With uncanny timing, Aurora stepped out from behind a corner.

“Blue!” Corona cried in happy surprise. “What’re you doing here? How’d you find me?”

"Good guesswork, mostly," her sister replied with a sly, knowing smile. "This is the exact same part of the palace where I lost myself earlier today. It’s pretty confusing around here.”

"You got lost here too? What were you doing out here?"

"Trying to find the library."

"We have a library?!"

Aurora nodded. "I didn't know about it either until Glass Eye told me. I've always gotten my magic books from the Arcane University's library, so I've never had to use the royal one. But it's here – well, actually, it's over there, just down the hall." She motioned with a hoof, indicating a doorway some distance down the hall from whence she'd come. "Glass Eye offered to take me to it, but I told him I'd rather find it myself…which is, of course, how I got lost. I stumbled across the library by luck.”

Now Corona's curiosity was piqued. "Why did you need to find the library, anyhow?"

“For research,” said Aurora. She started to walk back down the hall towards the library doors. “Come on, I’ll show you. And don’t worry about getting lost again – I’m drawing us a map. We’ll have this place figured out in no time.”

Once inside the library, Aurora filled her sister in on the morning’s events. After waking up and finding her sister still asleep, Aurora had gone to see Glass Eye; he had spoken with the advisory council about finding ways for the princesses to make themselves useful in running the country, and had even gone so far as to select a task for them.

“Ponyville,” said Aurora, laying open a thick brown tome upon a library table. The title page read: "Ponyville: History of a Small Town," with a black-and-white photograph of a group of ponies standing in front of an old town hall. “This is the town the council has selected for us to assist personally. It’s not big or politically important, but its history is rich. I wanted to get a better understanding of the town we’re going to visit beforehoof, just in case we need any background knowledge.” Her horn lit up, and using her magic she flipped forward through the pages one at a time.

Corona stood at her side, marveling at the images and words on the pages before her. She and Blue Moon had come from a rather small village themselves, but she never would’ve imagined that so modest a community could have been so important in the history of Equestria – at one time, the bearers of the Elements of Harmony had dwelt there, which Corona found amazing. The town seemed to have a rich history of its own, too: among other things, it was home to the oldest apple orchard in the known world, maintained for the past thousand years by a single family line.

After a while Corona spoke up. “So…what’re we gonna do when we get there? I mean, what kind of problems do they need us to solve?”

Aurora's horn glowed again and she summoned a scroll she had set across the table. "They're listed in here," she explained, unrolling the scroll and levitating it at eye level for them both to read. She frowned at the first item. "This first issue is the one that really troubles me. There's been a spike in foalnappings recently."

“Foalnappings?” Corona’s eyes widened.

“Yes,” Aurora said, more than a hint of anxiety in her voice. “Nearly a dozen foals have gone missing in the past year, mostly on the border of the Everfree Forest.” She returned to the book on Ponyville, magically flipping back through it until she found a large map spread across two pages. Corona took a look: just outside of Ponyville’s borders stood an enormous forest, thick and dark-colored, extending even beyond the borders of the map.

“Ooh. Looks spooky,” said Corona. “What kinds of things live in that forest?”

“There’ve reports for years of everything from hydras to manticores,” Aurora replied, rattling off some of the information she had picked up from her talk with Glass Eye. “But nothing that would account for so many disappearances. The letter said that many in Ponyville were blaming it all on a ‘local legend,’ but it didn’t go into any further detail than that.” She issued a heavy, resigned sigh. “So yeah, we have practically nothing to go on until we actually get there.”

“Oh. Okay, then.” Corona turned her eyes back to the scroll. “What else is on the list?”

Again, Aurora raised the scroll to eye level. "Second, their town hall is in serious need of repair."

“And they want us to fix it?”

“No,” said Aurora. “They just need us to see what sort of shape it’s in, and decide whether or not Canterlot can spare a team of builders to come and fix it.”

“That sounds easy!”

“Not necessarily. I spoke with Glass Eye about this earlier. The Canterlot Corps of Engineers is quite busy with large-scale renovation the city of Manehattan at the moment. It would inconvenient and expensive to take any of them from their work there and bring them to Ponyville.”

“Oh. That sounds less easy.”

“I know, I know. From what I’ve gathered, this is what a princess’s duties entail: looking at complex situations and making tough decisions.” Aurora’s face darkened and she looked aside in thought. Her voice sounded weary and troubled. “We haven’t really done any of that since we came to the throne. I wonder if anypony in Equestria even thinks we know what we’re doing. That’s why this job is so important. We have to give Ponyville a good impression. We have to make sure Equestria knows we can handle things ourselves.”

"Oh…okay," said Corona, taken aback her sister's suddenly dour mood. At this point, she also noticed several dark, sleepy rings under Aurora’s eyes. The gears in her mind started to turn, and an upsetting realization struck her.

“Hey, sis?” Corona said.

“Yes, Summer?”

“How much sleep did you get last night? Err…I mean, this morning?”

“I got enough,” Aurorareplied curtly.

“Really?” Corona’s voice bore an edge of skepticism. “‘Cause we went to bed right after the sunrise, which I think was sometime around six. And then when I got up, just after noon, you’d already been awake and doing stuff for a while.”

“Well, there were things that needed to be done. I couldn't keep Glass Eye waiting.”

"But you can’t just go without rest!" Corona protested, the skepticism in her voice giving way to worry. "You've seemed kind of…I dunno…edgy lately. You get really down and worried every time something big comes up, and that can’t be good for you. Don't you think maybe you're not getting enough sleep?"

“I’m getting plenty of sleep,” the moon princess insisted. “As long as I’m able to keep studying, training, and doing what needs to be done, then I’m getting all the rest I need.”

“Oh c’mon, Blue! Just relax a little! You just seem so worried all the time lately – first about your magic training, and now about this Ponyville thing. It’s…it’s kind of making me a little worried. About you.”

Aurora froze. The irate response sitting on the tip of tongue died the instant her sister spoke those last two words. Her face fell and she looked sadly at the floor. “I’m sorry, Summer,” she said in a low voice. “I never wanted to make you worry about me. But you’re right…I have been worried lately, about a lot of things. I’m sorry if I took any of it out on you.”

“Oh no, it’s not that, sis. You’re doing fine. Well, okay, maybe you’re just a tiny bit grumpy sometimes, but that’s okay. I’m just sorry you’re feeling so worried.”

“Thanks,” said Aurora. The urge to pace overwhelmed the dark-maned princess, and she rose from her seat at the table and began to walk back and forth across the library floor. “I’m worried that Equestria won’t accept us as leaders. I’m worried some other noble will call us inept or inadequate, and try to seize power for him or herself. There’s…there’s just such a huge burden on my shoulders now. It’s like nothing I’ve ever had to deal with before. I don’t know what I’m going to do, or how I’m going to handle it. I just…I….”

Corona was amazed; Aurora’s voice was beginning to break. Immediately she rose and went to her sister’s side. “You don’t have to handle it,” she said. “Not by yourself. You’ve got a co-princess, remember? And you’ve got a sister who loves you. That’s something, right?”

For a few seconds, Aurora said nothing. Then, without speaking another word, she wheeled around and pulled her sister into a tight hug. “Thank you, Summer,” she said softly, holding her sister in her forelegs and resting her head against Corona's shoulder. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“It’s okay, Blue,” Corona assured her. She leaned back into the hug. “It’s no big deal.”

“Yes, it is,” Aurora insisted. “I’m supposed to take care of you. I promised I would….”

“Yeah, and you have. But remember to take care of yourself too, okay?”

Aurora nodded, then let go of her sister and stepped back. “Maybe…maybe we’d better call it a day. We don’t leave for Ponyville until much later tonight, so I guess I have time for a little more rest.”

“Sounds great!” said Corona, her face and tone of voice both brightening. “I can go talk to Glass Eye instead, if you want me to.”

“That’s fine,” Aurora answered. She turned and made for the library exit. “If anypony needs me, I’ll be in my chambers. Probably asleep.”

"Okay, sis. You just relax, okay?" Corona said, levitating the Ponyville letter from the table and carrying it with her as she followed her sister from the room. At the intersection just down the hallway, Aurora paused to give Corona basic directions for how to get to the Royal Court from there. The sun princess nodded happily and set off on her way.

Once she was satisfied that her sister was headed in the right direction, Aurora heaved a tired sigh and headed off in the direction of her bedchambers. By now it was early evening, and the sun hung low and red in the sky and glowed through the palace windows, casting the hallways in a warm orange light. The walk back to her bedroom was long, and Aurora was slow and sluggish; it was as if her body sensed a nap in its near future and was preparing for sleep in advance.

At last she came to the foot of the tall tower, and the door to the spiraling stairwell that led up to the princess’s bedchambers. A guard pony, a tall sturdy pegasus with a white coat and a dull red mane, was posted in the hallway, standing at solid attention just across from the door. Aurora didn’t make a habit of befriending the guards, but this particular one was so often assigned to guard her tower that she’d built up a level of familiarity with him.

“Good afternoon, Lantern Jaw,” she said, a tired smile on her face.

“Good afternoon, your highness,” he replied stiffly. Though on good terms with both princesses, Lantern Jaw’s cold, stone-faced demeanor never faltered.

“Glass Eye will probably come along later this evening,” Aurora told him. “Make sure to let him up, or else I might miss the train to Ponyville.”

Lantern Jaw's cold, stone-faced demeanor faltered. His eyes widened just a tad – it was only for a second, but it was long enough for the princess to notice. She eyed him curiously. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing, your highness,” he said. When she didn’t stop looking at him, he spoke up again: “Well, you see…I’m from Ponyville, your highness. I grew up there. I’ve heard about the foalnappings and I had been wondering if anything was going to be done.”

A tinge of fear bit at Aurora’s heart, Lantern Jaw’s words rang in her ears. ‘I was wondering if anything was going to be done…’ The night princess often found herself wondering how many of her subjects were thinking the same thing about problems in their own lives. She’d been so inactive since taking the throne –

No. Immediately she cut off that line of thought. It was making her worried again, and at the moment that was the last thing she needed. Now was a time for rest, and she wouldn’t get much if she was too busy tossing and turning in her bed with her mind full of racing thoughts and her heart full of worry. She forced herself to relax, and brought her mind back to the topic at hoof.

“So you’re from Ponyville?” she said to the guard. “If that’s the case…perhaps you could help me out.”

Again, Lantern Jaw’s eyes widened in surprise. “Me, your highness?”

Aurora nodded. “In the letter I received, it said that the locals were blaming the disappearances on a ‘local legend,’ but it didn’t go into any more detail than that. Would you happen to know what ‘legend’ they were referring to?”
For just a moment the guard pony seemed to hesitate. “…yes,” he said at length, his eyes shifting. “It began no more than two years ago, just before I joined the Royal Guard. Ponies around the Everfree Forest claimed sightings of…something in the forest, something that was said to capture foals.”

“Something?” Aurora echoed, her curiosity piqued.

“Yes, your highness,” continued Lantern Jaw. “Especially during thunderstorms. There would be lighting, and the smell of smoke, and…” he paused for a brief moment, seeming to turn the thought over in his mind before resuming. “...and a winged unicorn would appear.”

“Really,” said Aurora, not even trying to keep the skepticism out of her voice. To her knowledge, she and her sister were the only alicorns remaining in Equestria; there had never been evidence of any more.

“Well, yes,” the guard resumed. “I realize it’s improbable, but there were many witnesses, many respectable, reliable ponies who saw it. Even the head of Sweet Apple Acres, and her family line is renowned for its honesty.” His voice dropped several decibels. “In fact, she said that it almost resembled…well….” Though he had been hesitant before, now Lantern Jaw seemed to clam up entirely, completely unwilling to finish his thought.

“What? What did she say?” Aurora prodded him.

“Now, I’m sure she was just confused,” said the pegasus, sounding almost defensive of his hometown’s citizens. “All of the sightings were at night, and there was never any photographic evidence – ”

“Lantern Jaw,” the princess interrupted him, speaking in a firm voice. “What did she say it looked like?”

Lantern Jaw cleared his throat. “Nightmare Moon, your highness,” he said at last. “She said it resembled Nightmare Moon.”

Silence fell. For several moments, Aurora merely stared at the guard, her face inscrutable. Eventually he spoke up again:

“I know it’s ridiculous, your highness. I don’t put much stock in it myself – ”

“Thank you, Lantern Jaw,” the princess interrupted him again. Her voice was blunt, yet neutral. “That will be all. I’m going to rest now.”

“Yes, your highness,” replied the guard, recovering his cold, stone-faced demeanor.

Aurora climbed the stairs to her bedchambers, looking fretfully down at her hooves the entire time. Once in the privacy of her room she removed her regalia and crawled into bed for a nap. She tossed and turned for over half an hour before finally falling into a fitful sleep. Unpleasant foalhood memories, stirred by her conversation with Lantern Jaw, bubbled up from the deep recesses of her mind and plagued her dreams.

Her sleep was not restful that evening.

3: Ghost Story

Geography fascinated Blue Moon. It only made sense, she supposed – her parents were mapmakers, and she picked up a great deal of cartographical knowledge from observing them. She’d follow her father when he made land surveys, watch as her mother drew up charts based on his notes. Inspired, she sometimes made maps of her own, spending long nights sketching landscapes by lamplight.

Her parents were always very supportive and encouraging, but they also never hesitated to offer critique when she needed it. Blue was learning fast, but it wasn’t quite fast enough for her; so she had taken to studying maps in her spare time, hoping that one day she might be as skilled as they were.

Blue Moon’s favorite place to read was on the far end of her backyard, on a small grassy hilltop crowned with an aged oak. Almost every afternoon she’d be there, resting comfortably in the cool shade with a large atlas or geography book spread open before her. With rapt interest she’d study the book’s maps, reading the detailed descriptions and taking in every feature of every landscape. Occasionally she’d flip the page with a hoof, revealing yet another new realm for her eyes to explore.

Today was a particularly pleasant day for outdoor reading. The air was clear and cool, and occasionally a gentle breeze would blow across the hillside, tousling her mane and making the leaves whisper. She would’ve been content to stay there for hours and hours had her sister’s voice not caught her attention.

“Blue! Hey, Blue!”

Blue Moon raised her head, coming eye to eye with Summer Sun. The afternoon sun shone in her golden mane, and her bright smile had a shine all its own.

“What is it, Summer?” asked the dark-maned filly, closing her book and laying it on the grass beside her.

“Wanna catch butterflies with me?” she asked excitedly. “Mom brought us some nets, and I got some jars from the kitchen we can keep them in.”

“Oh…well, Summer, I’m kind of busy at the moment,” said Blue Moon, turning her head to indicate the book. “I’ve got a lot of reading to do right now.” Strictly speaking, it wasn’t required reading; Blue Moon only required it of herself. But it was still very important to her.

“Aw, c’mon, sis,” Summer pleaded. “I just saw a whole bunch of butterflies out in the field. I bet they’ll be gone soon. Can’t you do your reading later?”

There was a pause as Blue gave the matter some thought. Chasing after butterflies seemed like a silly way to spend an afternoon, especially when she could be spending it reading instead. She looked again at her sister: that sunny, innocent smile hadn’t left her face. Summer would be so happy if she agreed to play with her….

“Please, Blue? You’ve always got your nose buried in those books. It’s like you’re addicted to maps or something.”

“I am not,” Blue protested. “I just want to learn as much as I can. I have to prove to Mom and Dad that I can be as good a mapmaker as they are.”

Summer frowned. “What's the rush? You don't have to prove anything to them right now,” she argued. “Besides…I bet you aren’t as good a butterfly-catcher as me. Don't you wanna prove me wrong about that?”

Blue Moon sighed in defeat, reaching aside to close her book. Cartography was important to her, but her sister was more important still. “Sure, Summer,” she said, standing up and smiling. “Let go catch some butterflies.”

Summer’s smile returned, wider and brighter than before. Blue left her book lying under the tree, and together the two sisters ran back to get their nets. For a while Blue’s studies were forgotten in favor of something much more valuable.

Aurora and Corona’s train arrived in Ponyville just before midnight. Though the sky-chariot had been the traditional mode of transport for Equestrian royalty in centuries past, these uncertain times made such open travel unsafe. Instead, a train car had been converted specially for their use. It was a sleeper car, long and wide with bunk-space truly fit for a princess. The carpet was deep and lush and the walls elegantly gilded. Thick dark curtains were drawn over the windows.

The trip was not long, but Aurora managed to catch some sleep along the way. She had awoken from her earlier nap feeling less than rested, with the bitter taste of unpleasant dreams lingering in her mind. The prospect of having to face "Nightmare Moon" – or else something that resembled her – had for very personal reasons kept her from restful sleep. Things had only gotten worse after she and her sister had raised the moon; determined not to let a heavy burden fall on Corona again, Aurora had made certain to carry as much of the moon’s magical weight as she could. It had been a terrible strain and left her feeling even more exhausted than before, but it was worth it to spare her sister the same struggle. Fortunately, the sleep she caught on the train was much more restful, and her dreams more pleasant.

Corona woke her again when the train came to a stop. The Ponyville station was small, with a single platform extending from a simple wooden stationhouse – a far cry from the glassy, elegant affair that stood in Canterlot, but it served the town’s needs well. The building was mostly dark, save for a single lit window; normally the station would be closed at these hours, but special arrangements had been made for the princess’s nighttime visit. It was the only way for them to enter Ponyville discreetly, which the advisory council had deemed a safer move than a daylight parade down the main streets.

Waiting for them on the platform was Ponyville’s mayor. She was a rather young-looking unicorn, raven-maned with a coat of deep blue. About her neck was a simple gray collar adorned with a black bowtie. She bowed respectfully as the princesses stepped off the train, flanked on either side by royal guard ponies.

“Welcome to Ponyville, your highnesses,” she said. “I’m Mayor Tally Mark. On behalf of Ponyville, allow me to say that we are honored by your visit.”

“We’re….” Aurora cleared her throat. Her life as a princess up to now had been mostly confined to within the palace walls; this was the first time she’d ever had to address one of her subjects and she wasn’t entirely comfortable. “We’re glad to be here, Mayor.”

“Wonderful!” Tally Mark continued. “I can’t begin to thank you enough for coming to address our concerns personally.”

“It’s what we’re here for!” Corona chimed in, smiling brightly. “So what do you need us to do first?”

“Ah.” The mayor seemed to hesitate. “Well, there is one issue in particular – it’s the main reason we requested your aid, actually.”

“The foalnappings?” guessed Aurora, judging by Tally Mark’s darkened tone of voice.

“Well, yes,” said the mayor. “But there’s a bit more to it than just foalnappings. Since that message was sent, things have gotten a little more complicated.”

“Complicated?” Corona echoed, her expression quizzical. “What do you mean?”

“Perhaps it would be simpler if I showed you.” Tally Mark turned about, turning back her head to address the princesses. “If you’ll follow me, your highnesses, we’ve a carriage waiting just outside the station.”

Aurora and Corona followed the mayor off of the platform and through the stationhouse, passing quickly through the front doors and onto Ponyville’s dim streets. There waiting for them was a carriage, black and roofless, pulled by four strong earth stallions. The princesses climbed into the back seats, and the mayor into the front.

With a small procession of guards following close behind them, the carriage started to move through the sleeping township. By all appearances, Ponyville was decidedly quaint and old-fashioned: old red-brick houses and storefronts lined the cobblestone streets, and here and there gnarled, ancient oaks burst from the ground and towered over the surrounding structures. The moon hung low and bright in the sky, illuminating the courtyards and fountain squares; but all was still and soundless save for the clacking carriage-wheels and the steady hoofsteps of the guards.

At last they stopped; they had arrived at the hospital. Aurora and Corona shared a curious glance, then stepped out of the carriage and followed the mayor through the entrance. They passed the front check-in, and Tally Mark asked if they could see “the patients” in so many words. The ponies behind the desk seemed to know what she meant, and allowed them inside after offering reverent greetings and thanks to the princesses. At their request, the guards stayed behind in the lobby.

Tally Mark then led them down a long white hallway, explaining the situation as they walked. “A little over a year ago, ponies started to come to me claiming to have seen…something. Most of these reports came from ponies who live near the border of the Everfree Forest, so we assumed they were just unfamiliar creatures wandering out of the woods. It happens sometimes.”

“I see,” said Aurora, knowing already where the mayor’s story was going.

“But the reports kept coming in, again and again from the same ponies. They were absolutely certain that they had seen a winged unicorn in the forest, especially on stormy nights. And when foals who lived near on the border of the Everfree started to go missing, we knew we couldn’t ignore it any longer. Even Pink Pearl, manager of Sweet Apple Acres, reported a sighting – in fact, she was the only one who ever saw it up close. She claimed that it resembled – ”

“Nightmare Moon?” Aurora finished for her.

For the briefest of moments, Tally Mark stopped in her tracks and stared wide-eyed at Aurora. “Why, yes....” she affirmed, sighing in sad resignation. “Pink Pearl is a good pony, but her report has set the whole town abuzz with rumors that the 'ghost of Nightmare Moon' has returned to haunt the Everfree. Has the word really spread as far as Canterlot now?”

“One of my guards is from Ponyville,” explained Aurora. “He told me about the sightings.”

“Oh dear. It wasn’t Lantern Jaw, was it?”

“Actually, yes, it was,” Aurora replied, confused by the mayor’s tone. “Why do you ask?”

The hallway came to a stop before a wide set of silvery-gray double-doors. Tally Mark placed a hoof on the rightmost door and said, “Like I said earlier: it might be simpler if I just showed you.”

With that, she pushed the door open. Inside was a long ward, with twin-sized beds lined in rows against either wall with a pony sleeping in each one. Many had breath masks and catheters running into their resting forelegs, connected by tubes to hanging bags of fluid. Teal-garbed nurses moved silently from bed to bed, attending to the patients and sometimes speaking to one another in hushed whispers. All was quiet save for the soft beeping of machinery.

In the bed nearest the door slept an aged pegasus stallion, gray-coated with a mane of dull puce. He was unfamiliar to either princess, but after a moment Aurora was struck by an uncanny family resemblance.

“That looks like…is that…?”

“Lantern Jaw’s father,” whispered the mayor. “He’s lived on the border of the Everfree for many years. He was one of the first ponies to bring in sightings of that…thing, whatever it is.”

“What’s – ” Corona started loudly, but then caught herself and lowered her voice. “What’s wrong with him?”

“We don’t know. A week ago he simply stumbled into the hospital and collapsed. He’s been in a coma ever since.” She motioned to the other sleeping patients. “The same thing happened to all of them. These are all ponies who live near the Everfree Forest, and each of them claimed repeated, almost regular sightings of that creature. And then they all ended up here – exhausted, comatose, drained like batteries. And all within the last week, no less.”

“Do you think this has any connection to the missing foals?” Aurora asked.

“Many of these ponies are parents of the missing foals,” said Tally Mark, “but that’s likely just because of their proximity to the forest. Whatever did this to them is probably what took their children as well; we just have no idea what it is.”

After that they took leave of the ward. Aurora was glad to put the sad sight behind them; seeing those ponies lying there just made the weight of her responsibility seem much more tangible than before. She knew that her subjects’ lives depended on her, but actually seeing them there, hanging in the balance, was deeply disquieting.

Though she said nothing of it, Corona felt much the same way. Her cheerful grin from before had all but dried up, leaving nothing but a troubled frown in its place. She didn’t often give much thought how great her responsibilities as an Equestrian princess were – she was usually so focused on her flight training that the reality of ruling a country didn’t cross her mind. It was a little distressing, now that she really thought about it. But she wasn’t too worried; she was sure Aurora knew how to handle it. Aurora would take care of everything. She always did.

At the same time, unbeknownst to Corona, a strange determination woke in Aurora’s heart. Ponies – her subjects – were suffering and afraid, and it was her job to help them. This was her opportunity, she remembered; this was her chance to prove that she and Corona were capable rulers, worthy to sit upon the thrones of Equestria. Saving this town from its ghostly tormentor, whatever it really was, might just be enough to earn their nation’s confidence. She decided at once to focus her attentions on solving the problem as quickly as possible.

“Excuse me, Mayor,” she said once they had returned to the lobby. “But you mentioned Pink Pearl earlier…do you think we could meet her?”

“Actually,” said Tally Mark. “I was hoping you might ask. I informed of your visit just a few days ago, and she practically demanded an audience with you. She’s staying at Sweet Apple Estates – she refused to be hospitalized, even with a broken leg.”

“A broken leg?” Corona echoed, tilting her head curiously. “How’d her leg get broken? It didn’t have anything to do with that Nightmare Moon thing, did it?”

“In a sense, yes,” answered the mayor. “But I think you’d be better off hearing it from her. She’s got quite a story about her encounter with it – and she may just be the only pony in town who can help us get to the bottom of this.” With that, Tally Mark made for the door. “This way, your highnesses. I’ll have the carriage take us to see her.”

Without another word, Aurora and Corona followed the mayor back outside and climbed again into the carriage, setting off once the royal guards had fallen into formation behind them. As they left, Aurora cast a single glance back at the hospital, thinking of those ponies that lay comatose in their beds – especially of Lantern Jaw’s father. ‘I was wondering if anything was going to be done…’

“Yes, Lantern Jaw,” she murmured to herself. “Something will be done. I promise.”

The carriage clacked along the road. The buildings grew fewer and further between as they passed through the town’s outskirts. Eventually they left Ponyville’s boundaries altogether and entered the open countryside; the cobblestone street turned into a dirt road and the ground became hilly and uneven. Trees sprung up around them, dark and old and twisted but bright-leafed and alive. In the moonlight they could see bold red apples hanging from their aged branches.

Then at last, coming over a rise, they saw it: vast, sprawling fields of apple trees, their bright green tops aglow in the moonlight, opening before them as far as the eye could see. In all shapes and sizes they grew, some high and lean and others thick-trunked and ancient, and upon them all bright apples hung gleaming, red and green and gold and pink. Everywhere the landscape was coated with them, from dense groves that gathered in low dales to endless rows that marched across the rolling hills. The orchard extended even to the very edge of the horizon, where tall trees stood stark on distant hilltops silhouetted against the low-hanging white moon.

Corona was awestruck. “Is this…?”

“Sweet Apple Acres,” the mayor finished for her, with more than a hint of pride in her voice. “The oldest and largest apple orchard in Equestria. Founded over one thousand years ago, and passed down through the Apple family line from generation to generation.”

“It’s extraordinary,” said Aurora, gazing wide-eyed across the fields.

Tally Mark simply smiled.

After passing through a green-painted wooden gateway, the carriage finally came to a stop before a huge white manor-house. On the wide front porch stood a finely dressed servant-pony, who politely opened the doors for the mayor and princesses. “Miss Pearl is expecting you, your highnesses,” he said with a courteous bow. “She’s waiting just inside.”

Aurora and Corona exchanged another apprehensive glance. Tally Mark stepped by them, striding through the front door. “Don’t worry, your highnesses,” she said. “Pink Pearl’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Corona shrugged in resignation, and without another word the sisters followed the mayor through the door. Inside was a spacious sitting room, beige-walled with a huge red rug spread across the hardwood floor. Fixed in the center of the rightmost wall was heavy marble fireplace, crackling and aglow with heat. An earth pony sat silhouetted before the fire. She rested on a large cushion, her back to the door.

“I figured yall’d show up sooner or later,” said the pony. “Come ‘round front, your highnesses. I’d like a word with y’all, if’n you don’t mind.”

The sisters stepped hesitantly around the speaker. Once closer, they could make out her features in the firelight: her coat was a creamy white color and her short mane was leafy green. A pink apple-shaped Cutie Mark adorned her flank.

“Pink Pearl at your service, your majesties,” she said, nodding her head. “I’d get up ‘n bow, but as y’all can see,” she glanced down at her left foreleg, wrapped in a cast, “I ain’t in any shape to be standin’ up at the moment.”

“It’s quite all right,” Aurora assured her, and she really meant it. She was getting tired of ponies bowing to her everywhere she went.

“Oh, come now, Pearl,” Tally Mark joked, stepping up beside Aurora. “You’ve never let something as small as a broken leg keep you down before. Why so feeble all of a sudden?”

Pink Pearl smiled. “Maybe I’m just humblin’ myself up for the princesses. A pony can afford to do that sometimes, y’know.” She looked back up at Aurora and Corona. “You’ll have to forgive me and Tally Mark. We’re old friends, y’see.”

“We like to poke fun,” said the mayor. “It’s a little hobby of ours.”

“But I’m right glad to help however I can, your highnesses,” said Pink Pearl with unmistakable Apple-family sincerity. “I’m just as itchin’ to get this case wrapped up as you are.”

“Great!” said Corona, smiling cheerfully. The rug beneath her hooves was thick and soft, so she sat down on it, tucking her legs beneath her. Aurora did the same – she was a little uncomfortable towering over the resting earth pony, anyway. Behind her, Tally Mark continued to stand; at her height, she was at eye level with both princesses.

“So, um…” Corona started again. “How’d your leg get broken? Mayor Tally Mark said it had something to do with that…um, thing that you saw.”

The earth pony’s face darkened. “As a matter of fact, yeah. It did. And it’s gonna pay for it next time I see it! I won’t be ready to get back to applebuckin’ for weeks, the way this here leg is broke – and I don’t take kindly to bein’ put outta work.”

“Now now, Pearl,” Tally Mark chided gently. “Don’t get overzealous. Just tell the princesses what happened.”

“Right, right. Sorry, Mayor, just ventin’ a little. Can’t help myself sometimes.” Pink Pearl then sat up, repositioning herself on the cushion to meet the princesses’ eyes. Her grim face glowed in the flickering firelight as she began her story. “Now I’d seen that critter about a dozen times beforehoof – I thought it looked a mite like Nightmare Moon, but I never got a good enough look at it to be sure. But just a week ago, when folks started turnin’ up at the hospital, I knew I just couldn’t sit around on my rump anymore – I had to do somethin’. Whatever the hay that thing was, I’d had enough of it stealin’ foals and puttin’ ponies in comas.”

“So,” Tally Mark interrupted, “without telling anypony, she charged into the Everfree by herself. No map, no idea where she was going, no backup – ”

“Hey! I’m tellin’ this here story. And it’s just fine without any commentary, thank you very much,” Pink Pearl said with mild indignation. When the mayor fell silent, the earth pony began again: “So yeah, I kinda ran in there all by my lonesome. But I knew what I was doin’! I’d been out in those woods a whole bundle of times before and I knew my way ‘round.” She looked aside solemnly. “Except that night. That night things were different.

“I got lost. I ain’t sure how, but I did. Maybe I was just so dead-set on findin’ that thing that I didn’t pay much heed to where I was goin’. So I just sorta wandered around, hopin’ to find a way out – or better yet, to find that nightmare critter so I could give it what for. After about an hour I found myself in the middle of a whole bunch of old burned-out houses, like some kinda town in the middle of the woods.”

At this point, Tally Mark stepped in again. “In the past, ponies have tried to ‘tame’ the Everfree – small communities have sprung up in the woods, but they never lasted very long. I imagine those were the ruins of just such a village, long-lost and forgotten.” She smiled at Pink Pearl in apology. “Sorry for butting in again, it just seemed important.”

“Aw, it’s all right, mayor,” said Pink Pearl, dismissing her concerns with a waved hoof before turning back to the princesses and continuing her tale. “Anyway, that was when I heard it: some kinda screechin’, howlin’ sound. I ain’t gonna lie, it chilled me right to the bone. Then from out behind one of the old buildings comes this…thing. It was tall, taller even than y’all, your highnesses. And there was no mistakin’ it – the horn and the wings, the helmet, that shark-toothed grin. It was Nightmare Moon, as I live and breathe.”

There was a pause. Aurora and Corona shared an uncertain glance.

“You don’t…you don’t think it was the real Nightmare Moon, right?” Corona asked after a long silence. “I mean, she’s mostly just an old mare’s tale….”

“There was only one ‘real’ Nightmare Moon,” said Aurora. “That was Princess Luna. And she’s….” she trailed off, finding it difficult to finish her sentence.

“Gone. Yeah, I know,” Pink Pearl finished for her, sullen-voiced. “But I know what I saw. It was Nightmare Moon, or else somethin’ that looked just like her. Maybe a ghost…if y’all can believe in such a thing, of course.”

“What happened next?” asked Corona.

“Well, needless to say, I was…well, I was a little spooked. And for a second, her horn lit up with a weird green glow. Then…then, I’m not totally sure what happened. I started feelin’ funny: I got a bad headache, and I felt a mite tired, and kinda woozy. But then I planted my hooves and stared her down, and looked as fierce as I could. Whatever she was up to, I wasn’t just gonna let her have her way with me.

“Well, she didn’t like that. Her horn quit glowin’, and she sorta screamed at me – no words or anything, just noisy shriekin’. And then she charged at me. Now, starin’ down Nightmare Moon is one thing, but starin’ down a Nightmare Moon that’s runnin’ right at you is another thing altogether. So I, uh….”

Pink Pearl looked down, her face flushed. “So I ran, okay? Just took off through the woods. I think she was chasin’ me, but I didn’t look back. Then I tripped over a big rock and fell on my foreleg real funny – it hurt like hay, but I managed to haul myself outta the Everfree. When I got back, I got some farmhands to take me to the hospital and the doc told me it was broken.”

For a moment all was silent as Pink Pearl’s story sank in. Corona wasn’t sure what to say. Hearing about what she and Aurora might have to face was a little distressing; she hoped that Aurora might decide to put it off until the end of their visit, after they had addressed Ponyville’s other, smaller problems.

In the meantime Aurora sat quietly, running through the details over and over in her mind. At length she looked again at the farm pony. “This ghost town you saw…do you know where it is? Or how we might find it?”

“Well…not exactly, your highness. I know it ain’t too deep in the woods, but I wasn’t really payin’ too much attention while I was runnin’ back out. Fortunately,” she glanced at Tally Mark, “I’ve had a little help figurin’ things out.”

“We keep some old maps of Ponyville in the town archives,” explained the mayor. “Some of them are over a hundred years old, and have those abandoned woodland communities marked. I let Pearl borrow one of them….”

“…and I’ve been lookin’ over it, tryin’ to pinpoint just where I was when I saw her.” Pink Pearl then turned her head, staring pointedly at a tall wooden bookshelf across the room. “It’s sittin’ on that shelf over yonder. Tally, you mind gettin’ it for me?”

“Certainly,” said Tally Mark. The unicorn trotted away from the hearth, scanning the shelf for a moment before seizing a thick roll of map-papers in her horn’s magical grip. She returned to the fireside, unrolling the crinkly parchment and spreading it on the floor before the princesses.

“Ooh, maps!” said Corona excitedly. “Blue is – er, Aurora’s really good with maps. Right, sis?”

“Our mother is a cartographer,” Aurora explained. “And our father is a land surveyor. We grew up working with maps – well, I did, at least. Summer wasn’t – er, Corona wasn’t quite as interested, but I learned a lot.”

“Well then, lookie here, your highness,” said Pink Pearl, pointing with a hoof to a spot circled in red. “I’ve been lookin’ over these here maps for a couple days now, and I think I got it narrowed down to two spots: here….” She moved her hoof, pointing to a similarly marked spot. “…and here. There’s only one track that goes through the Everfree, and these two lil’ towns are on either side of it.”

Aurora took a closer look: indeed, there appeared to be small villages marked on the map, alone and isolated in the middle of the dense forest. Each one stood less than a mile distant from a long, winding dirt pathway that cut through the woods.

“This looks promising…” she said softly, then turned back to address Tally Mark. “Mayor, do you think we could investigate these towns tonight? I’d like to get to the bottom of this as quickly as we can, and they seem as good a place as any to start looking.”

At this Corona’s eyes widened in surprise. Aurora really wanted to go into the forest tonight? She bit her lip nervously, but said nothing in protest – Aurora knew what she was doing. Usually.

“Certainly, your highness,” answered Tally Mark, failing to notice the worry on Corona’s face. “The Everfree Forest is just a five-minute’s carriage ride from here. We can set out at once, if you like.”

“Good,” said Aurora, rising to her hooves. Using her magic, she picked up the map and rolled it back into a scroll. “Thank you so much for your help, Miss Pearl,” she said to the farm pony. Corona stood as well and nodded happily in agreement.

“Oh, it was my pleasure, your highnesses,” replied Pink Pearl. “Y’all just take care, y’hear? And if you do find that thing…whoop up on her for me, will you? Kick her flank real hard. A whole lotta folks are in bad shape because of whatever the hay she did to ‘em, and a whole lotta parents are worried sick about their missin’ foals.”

“We won’t forget,” said Aurora, once again remembering the sight of those poor ponies in the hospital. “Believe me, we won’t.”

Carrying the rolled-up map with her, Aurora and her sister returned with the mayor to the waiting carriage. Tally Mark instructed the earth ponies to take them to the border of Everfree, and soon they were off again. The royal guards followed close behind them, stern and silent as ever.

“Blue?” Corona whispered to her sister. “Are you sure about this? Couldn’t we…I don’t know, couldn’t we inspect the town hall first, or something? Why do we have to do this tonight?”

“Because it’s the most important issue,” replied Aurora, softly but firmly. “It can’t wait. Lots of ponies are depending on us – we have to get this done as soon as we can.” She looked aside, eyeing the passing apple trees as she spoke. “Besides, this is our chance – a perfect chance to prove that we’re capable leaders. We have to take advantage of it.”

“Oh...okay.” Corona turned aside as well, watching the dark landscape pass before her eyes and trying to ignore the knot that was forming in her stomach. She didn’t realize it, but her sister was doing exactly the same thing.

Author's Note

Click here for Valkyrie-Girl's illustrations of Pink Pearl and Tally Mark.

4: Nightmare in the Forest

The first time Blue Moon ever saw Princess Luna was at a Nightmare Night celebration, the first year after her family had moved nearer to Canterlot. It was Summer Sun's enthusiasm and curiosity that drove her to attend, even though Blue wasn't much fond of Nightmare Night herself. But she would do anything to make her sister happy.

Both fillies had briefly met Princess Celestia in the past, on the few occasions when she had visited their parents, but the princess of the night was still very much a mystery to them. Like all foals their age, they knew their Equestrian history: the story of Luna's banishment, and of her return a thousand years later. But that wasn't the same as meeting her in person.

As per tradition, Princess Luna had promised to make a guest appearance (as "Nightmare Moon," no less) at the town's annual festival, and on the eve of Nightmare Night the whole community buzzed with excitement. A great open-air tent was erected in the town square, dark blue canvas with painted stars to match the princess's mane. Sweets vendors and costumed entertainers set up shop up and down the busy streets, and eerie orange lanterns were strung on long lines between buildings and lamp-posts. By nightfall the square was filled with excited ponies, all chatting and laughing and dancing to the tunes of local musicians.

Blue and Summer arrived late in the evening, just as the celebration was getting under way. Many ponies, mostly old ones, were standing around the square with foals gathered all around them, telling ghost stories and recounting Nightmare Night folklore. Blue Moon half-listened, catching snippets of eerie yarns about Windigos and Will O' the Wisps, but her attention wandered – they were just old mare's tales, as far as she was concerned. It wasn't until somepony struck up the story of Nightmare Moon that she really started to listen.

"Every Nightmare Night for hundreds of years," rasped the storyteller, an actual old mare, "Nightmare Moon has visited our town! She flies through the streets, searching for little foals who are out past their bedtimes!" Her voice grew dark and ominous. "And if she catches you, she'll gobble your little Cutie Mark right off your flank!"

The gathered foals gasped. Summer and Blue made no sound, but sat listening intently. They knew that most stories like this one were no more than myths, but they were fascinated by them anyway; tales of Equestrian princesses, real or imagined, always piqued their interest.

"You!" said the old mare, pointing with a bony foreleg. It took Blue Moon a moment to realize that she was pointing at her.

"Me?"

"I'll bet Nightmare Moon comes after you first! She'll think that cookie-shaped Cutie Mark of yours looks awful tasty!"

Blue stepped back, offended. "It's not a cookie!" she cried. "It's the moon!"

"Actually, it kinda does look like a cookie," Summer giggled in amusement.

"Well, you'd better HOPE it's not a cookie," the storyteller continued, "or Nightmare Moon will come and gobble it up!"

The foals laughed. Blue Moon turned away, her head low. "C'mon, Summer. Let's go find something else to do."

For another half-hour the sisters wandered about the festival, dancing, bobbing for apples, and chatting with what few other foals they knew. At last the orange sun sank below the horizon, and the sky turned dark blue and diamond-studded. They turned their ears to the chattering crowd – it seemed the princess was due to show up any minute now. Summer practically bounced with excitement; Blue Moon was rather more apprehensive, but she stuck around for her sister's sake.

Then at last it came, as sudden and startling as a bolt of lightning. From out of nowhere, broiling dark storm clouds filled the sky. Thunder rumbled, white lightning split the night, cold winds whistled and howled all about them. Then came the fluttering of leathery wings – a swarm of bats passed overhead, heralding the approach of their dread master.

"Despair, ye ponies!" boomed a voice, a deep, dark, dreadful voice, coming from somewhere above. "For now cometh Nightmare Moon!" A dark shape, huge and black as midnight, swept over the crowd's heads and came to a stop hovering over the square. Wings outstretched, her horn glowing with black moonlight, the princess of the night leered over the mass of ponies below her. Upon her head was a silvery-blue helm, and stars twinkled in her flowing mane. Her eyes glowed, white and pale as death. Nightmare Moon, in the very flesh, had arrived.

At this sight the crowd went wild. Some cheered joyously, while others screamed in gleeful terror. It was all an act, of course, but that was part of the fun; it was what Nightmare Night was all about.

In that moment, Blue Moon decided that she really didn't like Nightmare Night. She didn't like it at all.

As quietly as she could, the dark-maned filly slinked away, finding cover in a dim alleyway not far from the square. She leaned against the wall behind her, squeezing her eyes shut and waiting for the noise to die down… and for the churning in her stomach to go away.

"Blue? Are you okay?"

The voice caught Blue Moon by surprise, and she started. She relaxed again when she looked up to see her sister standing over her.

"Oh… yeah, Summer. I'm just fine. Don't worry about me."

"Oh. Okay, I guess." Summer turned her head around, glancing out of the alleyway and taking stock of the cheering crowd. "Nightmare Moon" continued to swoop above the square in a dazzling display. She looked back at her sister, still scrunched uncomfortably against the cold bricks. "Um, Blue… are you scared?"

"No, I'm not scared," Blue Moon insisted. She was never scared – she couldn't allow herself to be. If she was scared, who would take care of Summer? "Look, can we go home? I don't really like Nightmare Night all that much, all right?"

"It's okay, Blue," said Summer. "I wasn't having that much fun anyway."

Blue got up from her hiding place and walked at her sister's side. Together, the two fillies trotted back down the darkened streets for home, leaving the noise and spectacle behind them.

The border of the Everfree Forest stood just over a mile from Ponyville's city limits. It rose from the earth like a veritable wall of woodland, dark and dense and thick with heavy foliage and many hanging vines. Along its edge the trees were wild and ivy-coated, all reaching out from the dark with long twisted arms. The wall had but a single opening, a small mouth down which ran a narrow dirt path. Even on this moonlit night, the path vanished into shadow not more than a few yards into the woods.

Aurora and Corona stood at the edge of the trees, staring into the gloom. Corona strained her vision, but she couldn't make out what lay down the path. A wind seemed to blow from out of the woods, faint and chill like the breathing of some massive beast. It unsettled her deeply, as though the forest was aware of their presence. It was not making her feel welcome.

"Heh," she chuckled, doing her best to lighten the mood. "That road looked a lot bigger on the map than it does in real life, huh?" She looked at her sister, hoping for a laugh. But Aurora stood still and silent, staring straight ahead, her expression neutral.

A few yards behind them, the carriage sat parked at the edge of a dirt road. At its side stood the mayor, along with the six royal guards that the princesses had brought with them. "The path isn't wide enough for the carriage," Tally Mark explained. "And it winds a great deal, making it impossible to maneuver except on hoof. I'm afraid you'll have to walk the whole way, unless you'd prefer to fly."

"We'll walk," said Aurora bluntly. Her horn lit up, and with her magic she held the borrowed map before her eyes. For a moment she studied it; then she took a slow, shaky breath in an effort to calm her jumpy nerves. It was quiet enough that the mayor and the guards couldn't hear it, but Corona did. It troubled her.

"Mayor," said Aurora, turning back to face Tally Mark. "How many foals have vanished in total?"

For a moment the mayor paused, startled and saddened by the question. "Eleven, your highness," she said in length, her voice low and dark. "Eleven foals have disappeared into those woods over the past year. The number rose so slowly, so gradually, that the staggering total simply crept up on us." She paused. "Why do you ask?"

Aurora turned around again and gazed into the darkness. "I just needed to remind myself what I'm doing this for," she said, her voice little more than a whisper. Then without another word, she stepped forward, walking solemnly into the forest's mouth. Corona followed close beside her, and behind them came the heavy hoof-falls of the guards. Tally Mark climbed back into the carriage and bade the earth ponies to return to Ponyville. There was nothing more she could do from this point on. It was up to the princesses now.

The moment they stepped into the forest, Corona was struck by a suffocating sense of claustrophobia. The path was narrow and grew narrower the further they walked, and all around the forest was pitch-dark, choked by vines and foliage. The air was thick and close like a musty cellar, but Corona still felt a wind on her face, like a cold breath that seemed to drift from somewhere deep in the heart of the woods. She resisted the urge to shiver, looking instead at her sister to reassure herself; as long as Aurora wasn't too frightened, there was no reason for her to be frightened either. The knot in her stomach untied itself every time they shared a glance.

When she wasn't reassuring her sister, Aurora herself continued to walk with her eyes forward, pausing only occasionally to study their surroundings and compare it to the map. They were still on the right course, it seemed, but they had many miles yet to go.

Within minutes of setting out, the forest turned denser and darker and the atmosphere more oppressive. The trees grew wilder here, their thick limbs crossing and writhing together like serpents overhead, forming a roof of black and green. Beneath the canopy all was plunged into shadow; only here and there did silvery slivers of moonlight pierce through the shade. Soon the princesses were forced to light the way with their horns: twin glows of sun-gold and moon-silver shone like lanterns down the forest path.

But worse than the darkness was the noise – or rather, the lack thereof. At the forest's edge there had at least been the sounds of night-birds and chirping crickets; but here, in the thick of the forest, a dead silence hung in the air. The darkness all around them produced no woodland noises, keeping quiet as a tomb. Corona heard only her own hoofsteps and her sister's, and the slow rhythmic trudge of the guards behind them. It was almost nerve-wracking.

After a while Aurora paused again to consult her map, and Corona leaned over to whisper in her ear. "Hey, Blue…how much further?"

"It's not far now," said Aurora, showing her sister the map. The dark canopy above them was marked; it was about three-quarters of the way from the forest entrance to a small crossroads. "Once we get there, we'll have to take one of two routes: there's a path that goes east, and another that goes west. Either one could lead us to the ghost town Pink Pearl described."

Corona turned her head slightly, eyeing the guards: they stood stock still at attention, waiting for the princesses to move again. "Good. I really wanna stop soon – those guards are making me a little nervous. It's like they're following us or something."

"Summer!" Aurora whispered harshly, trying to fight the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. In a moment she regained her composure. "Summer, this is nothing to joke about. We've got a serious job to do here."

"I know, I know," Corona conceded. "I'm sorry. But I really am nervous. I don't like this place. It's like those awful woods we used to get lost in when we were fillies, except a whole lot worse, because it's so much bigger…and darker."

Aurora had to resist the urge to drape a protective wing over her sister. They both needed to look strong and independent in front of the guards. But she leaned closer and whispered, "It's okay, Summer. Don't worry. I've got us a map, remember? Just like old times. We'll be fine, I promise."

Corona answered her with a smile, and together they continued forward.

At last they came to the intersection, where another trail, even smaller and narrower, crossed over theirs. No signpost or marker stood at the crossroads; had she not been looking for it, Aurora might have missed it entirely. On either side the path led into deeper darkness, like a tunnel beneath the trees, disappearing into pitch black just after just a few yards.

"All right," said Aurora, loudly enough for the guards to hear. "The path on the left leads to the eastern village, and the one on the right leads to the west." She turned her head, looking down each path in turn, and then sighed in frustration. "I suppose this means we'll have to split up."

"Very well, your highness," said the guard at the front of the line. They were all gray-white pegasus stallions, and Aurora had trouble remembering their names. "If you wish, three of us may accompany you down the left path, and the others will follow Princess Corona down the right."

"No!" Corona said, loudly and suddenly. There was fear in her voice, and it echoed in the trees all around them. Then her face flushed, and she looked sheepishly at the guards. "I-I think I'd rather stay with Aurora," she said more quietly, her eyes cast down in shame.

"It's okay, Summer," Aurora assured her gently. Then she looked back up, addressing the guards. "I think it'd be best if my sister and I stay together. We work better as a team anyway. Two of you can come with us down the east path, and the other four can take the west by themselves. Return here after an hour and report anything you find."

"As you wish, Princess," said the lead guard. He glanced back at his subordinates, and with a few jerks of his head he issued them a complex series of orders. Nodding in compliance, four of the guards broke off and marched down the path to the right. In moments they had vanished down the dark path, the sound of their hooves fading into the night. Corona's eyes followed them until they were out of sight.

Aurora took another slow, quiet breath. Her nerves were jumping again, but she made every effort to keep it to herself. She looked again at the map – there was nothing more she could learn from it right now, but it calmed her anyway because it gave her a sense of control. She knew where she was going; it was just a matter of making herself go. Sharing one last look with her sister, she trotted slowly down the east path and into darkness. Corona followed at her side, much closer to her than before, and behind them came the guards. Four sets of hooves echoed in the still, quiet forest.

Corona brightened her horn-glow. This path was even darker than the main one, and it was thick with rocks and roots that burst through the dirt and made for uneven footing. More than once she nearly stumbled. After a minute's walk it became clear that the path was leading downhill, towards a low river basin where broad willows grew. Their long, sinewy arms hung like tendrils from above, glowing ghostly pale in the sisters' magical light. A few of them hung low enough to brush against Corona's head, which made her deeply uncomfortable; it felt like being touched by some unfamiliar creature.

She glanced again at Aurora to reassure herself, but what she saw only worried her more. Aurora's stoic façade was slipping; her sense of control was intact, but a deeper fear had now seized her. Since the previous night it had sat like a cold stone in her stomach, but only now was its icy touch beginning to reach her heart. Corona noticed the change in Aurora's demeanor, in her darting eyes and her shaky breath. Her jumpy nerves were clearly getting jumpier.

"Hey, sis?" Corona whispered, keeping pace with Aurora. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," the night princess whispered back, but her tense, shaking voice betrayed her. She clearly was not fine.

"Are you sure?" Corona pushed. "Because you sound kind of nervous. You're not, er…" Corona lowered her voice. "You're not scared, are you?"

"No. Not really. I'm just…" Aurora paused, searching for the words. "I'm a little… tentative about what's going to happen when we reach the village."

"Tentative?"

"Oh… well…" Aurora lowered her head. "That's… that's just another way of saying scared, all right?"

Corona was surprised. "Scared? I didn't know you ever got scared, sis."

"Well I do, and I am. And I'd rather not talk about it."

"Are you sure?"

Aurora paused in her tracks, releasing a defeated sigh. It would do her a world of good to talk about how she felt – and who better to talk to than her sister? Her eyes met Corona's and she started to walk forward again. "At first I wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible," she went on, slackening her pace just a bit, "but now I'm not so sure anymore. It's much harder to think about it now that we're almost there – now that it's almost right in front of us."

"I guess I understand. It's kind of like what I had to do last week in flight training."

"Hmm?" Aurora said, her interest piqued. "How do you mean?"

"See, Coach Skybolt set a cloud about thirty feet above the ground and I had to glide down from it. I was really excited to try it at first, but every time I walked up to the edge I got scared. It was a whole lot harder to jump when I could see the distance I had to fall right in front of me."

"So what did you do?"

"Skybolt told me not to think so much about it: just run and leap as fast as I could, and get it over with quickly. And she was right. I tried it one more time and I didn't look down, I just ran up and jumped. And that made it a lot easier, I think – I glided down and landed and didn't get hurt."

"I see," said Aurora. Her gaze wandered, and as she walked she stared into the darkness of the passing woods. "I guess that's what it's like. I'm getting close to the edge now, and it's hard not to look down."

"Well, I think it was pretty cool, the way you wanted to get this done tonight, even though you were scared," said Corona. "I probably would've put it off until the end of the visit. You're really brave, sis. Did you know that?"

Aurora smiled bashfully. "Thanks, Summer."

At last the downhill slope ended and the path leveled out again. They had reached the edge of a dark stream, flowing almost soundlessly through the forest. The path ran alongside it, weaving between hoary willows and dipping here and there into small black pools. The air was warmer, almost steamy in places, and Corona felt beads of moisture strike lightly upon her face. They were entering a bog. The path turned soft and muddy and a mist filled the air, glowing white and gold in the light of their horn-lamps.

The further they walked, the thicker the mist grew; soon it was so dense that the guards, marching not ten feet behind the princesses, appeared to them as nothing but dim silhouettes in the murky gray. Every so often they would come upon a huge willow, looming like a beast in the fog, only for it to vanish into the blankness again moments after they passed it. Tiny rivulets ran through the muddy ground beneath their hooves, blurring the once-clear dirt path. At times it seemed to them that the path had vanished entirely, and they were now just wandering amongst the trees.

"I don't like this," Corona mumbled.

"Neither do I," agreed Aurora. "This swamp is marked on the map, but the path should go clear through it. This doesn't seem right."

"Maybe we could ask one of those guards to fly up above the fog, and see what's what," Corona suggested. She looked back over her shoulder. "Hey! Could one of you guys – "

She stopped when she realized there was no one there. The guards' thin silhouettes had vanished altogether and their heavy hoofsteps had fallen silent.

"Where…where did the guards go?" Corona asked timidly, hoping Aurora could give her an answer.

But Aurora couldn't. She stared hard into the dark, blank mass of fog, but saw nothing. They had been separated somehow – either the guards had gotten lost, or she had. Aurora's pulse quickened as a hint of panic began to set in; but she took yet another long, slow breath, commanding herself to remain calm. Nothing would be solved by losing her cool.

"They must've lost sight of us," she said. "I'll bet they took a wrong turn around one of those willows and just kept going." Sighing in exasperation, she rolled her eyes. "Glass Eye shouldn't have even bothered sending those guards with us. They're so inattentive it makes me wonder if they're as blind as he is."

"But, um…we can still find our way, right?"

"Of course we can, sis," said Aurora, holding up the map again. "We must be near the river, at least – that's probably where all this mist is coming from. If we can find it, I can figure out where we are on the map. Now where is it…?" Her eyes wandered through the fog and her ears listened for the sound of running water.

Corona looked and listened as well. But all around her the world seemed blank and quiet; no sound reached her ears other than her sister's soft breathing, and no light reached her eyes other than the glow of her horn. She turned about, looking in the opposite direction that Aurora looked, hoping she might spy a break in the mist; but saw something else instead.

A faint glimmer of light appeared through the fog, some distance away from her. Corona looked closer: there, flickering soft and faint through the mist, were tiny yellow lights. They floated and danced like stray sparks from a bonfire drifting on the wind. No, not drifting – as they came closer, they seemed to be moving of their own will, swarming around like fireflies. There were almost a dozen of them, approaching fast.

"Hey, Blue…what are those?"

Hearing Corona's voice, Aurora turned and looked as well, catching sight of the lights. "I don't know," she answered. One of them flew just before her eyes. Aurora expected to see it attached to some sort of insect, but there was nothing there: just a point of yellow light, hovering on its own and floating gently through the misty air. "I've never seen anything like this before."

"Do you think they're friendly?" Corona asked, smiling as one of the lights passed in front of her face. She giggled softly. "They're kind of cute."

"I…don't think we should be making friends with them," said Aurora. "Most of the species in the Everfree Forest are still undocumented – these things could be dangerous."

"Well, they don't look dangerous." The sun princess's eyes followed the lights as they passed between her and her sister. Then they gathered in a swarm on the other side, swirling and dancing. They seemed to be waiting for something. Corona studied them closely – their movements looked almost beckoning. "I think they want us to follow them."

"I really don't think that's a good idea," Aurora tried to protest, but Corona had already begun to trot through the mist in pursuit of the lights. With nothing else to do, she followed her sister, magically carrying the map at her side. Something about this didn't sit right in her gut, but it seemed a better option than just standing around in the fog.

"Maybe they're trying to help," Corona suggested as the lights led them on, slicing through the haze and weaving in and out between tall willows. "They heard that we were lost and they're leading us out of the woods!"

"Well, they're leading us somewhere, that's for sure." For some reason, Aurora couldn't shake the feeling that she knew what those lights were. There was some vague memory in the back of her mind that made her suspicious, but she couldn't quite put her hoof on it; it was like trying to recall a dream. But it made her anxious all the same.

There was a soft splash, and Aurora felt her hoof land in something wet. She looked down and saw that she was standing in a shallow, murky pool full of peat and mud. Corona was just in front of her, her own hooves splashing in the swamp-water, following the dancing lights.

"Summer, stop!" Aurora called out. "They're leading us deeper into the swamp!"

"It's okay, Blue!" her sister shouted back. "The ground's still really solid. See?" She bounced lightly up and down to prove her point, splashing muddy water about her legs.

"Well…all right," said Aurora. She caught up with her sister and continued onwards. "But I still don't like this. Something about those lights bothers me, but I'm not sure what."

On they went through the misty marsh. The fog was finally starting to clear, and their surroundings became visible – in the glow of their horn-lights, they could see the swamp: gray, fallen logs lay half-submerged, and here and there thick Cyprus knees rose eerily from the black, misty water. The lights, flitting about like a swarm of fireflies, led them on along a muddy path, but soon the pools about their feet grew wider and thicker with peat. Corona did her best to hop lightly through and around them, but every step sent her hooves sinking into the murk. It was a lot of work to drag them back out again; the mud seemed to suck them down. Before long both sisters were slogging through the swamp, with the water often reaching above their fetlocks.

"Eeuugh," complained Corona, picking a hoof out of the peat. She shook it dry, only to muddy it again when she took another step forward. "I think the water's getting deeper."

Suddenly Aurora stopped in her tracks. Prompted by her sister's observation, a memory came clear into her mind – a memory from a Nightmare Night long ago, of an old storyteller and a spooky old mare's tale to which she had paid little heed at the time, but that now felt inexpressibly important.

"Summer, we need to turn around," she said sternly. "Those lights aren't helping us. They're just making us more lost."

"What do you mean?"

"Those are Will O' the Wisps," Aurora explained. "I remember hearing a story about them, a very long time ago. They're a kind of forest spirit. They lure ponies off of the path and into a swamp to drown. That's what they're trying to do to us."

"But…" her sister started to protest, glancing back at the lights – but they were nowhere to be seen. All she saw now was the darkness of the swamp. Their "guides" had abandoned them, stranded in the mire. Corona's head fell in shame. "I'm sorry, Blue. I just really hoped they were leading us out…I didn't like being lost. I should've listened to you."

"It's all right, Summer. I didn't know what they were at first, either." Aurora picked her hooves up out of the mud and prepared to turn around. "But I think it'd be best now if we just go back the way we came."

"Yeah… okay," Corona mumbled, moving to follow her. As she turned, she cast one last glance in the direction the spirits had been leading them – and froze. Just ahead, across a wide swampy pool and through a thick patch of brambly foliage, stood an old gray brick wall, half-fallen down and covered in ivy. "Blue Moon! Look! We're here!"

"What?" Aurora asked, looking back.

"It's a building! See?" Corona said excitedly, pointing with a hoof.

Aurora came up to her sister's side, brightening her horn-glow for a better view. Ahead through the brambles was the wall, and beyond was a large moonlit clearing. In the silvery glow she could make out the shapes of several more structures in varying degrees of dilapidation: some were nothing more than old foundation slabs crowned with crumbling brick walls. It was the remains of a village, old and desolate, but clearly made by ponies.

"I don't believe it," Aurora muttered. "It's the ghost town. We really have made it!" Immediately she scanned for a safe path to the clearing – she didn't like the look of that boggy, peat-filled pool that stood between them and the foliage on the other side. It seemed rather shallow, but Aurora didn't trust her eyes.

"Yay!" cried Corona. "Told you those lights were here to help. C'mon!" And with that, ran for the clearing…and straight towards the pool.

"Summer! Wait!"

But it was too late. With a tremendous splash, Corona sank into the mire. It was, in fact, deeper than it looked: the murky bog reached up to the princess's knees. Immediately she tried to wade through the muck, but with every attempted step she only sank deeper; the quagmire sucked her hooves down like quicksand. Soon she could no longer even lift her legs, and still she felt herself sinking.

"Blue!" she cried, her voice nearly breaking with panic. "I can't move! I can't move!"

"It's okay, Summer. Just calm down and don't struggle." Aurora was close to panic herself, but she tried her best to keep her voice steady. This must've been where the Will O' the Wisps were leading them, to this horrid pool. She fought back a shudder – if she hadn't realized where they were being led, they both might've stumbled into the mire.

"Blue?!"

"It's okay!" Aurora said again. "Just hold on. I'll get you out of there somehow." Her eyes scanned the swampy ground for a long branch or a vine, but she saw nothing useful below. Looking up, she spied the long creeping arms of a willow dangling from overhead, and taking one in her teeth she gave it a mighty tug and broke it free.

"Take this!" she shouted, tossing one end to her sinking sister. Corona caught it with her magic and tried to pull it within biting distance, but the willow arm simply wasn't long enough; she had run too far into the murky pool. Already she had sunk so far that the morass reached above her knees, and it was becoming increasingly hard not to struggle.

Corona's crimson eyes were wide with blind terror. "Blue… what do I do?!"

"Just hold on!" Aurora repeated firmly, pulling the vine back to dry land. "I'll try to make it around to the other side. I can reach you from there."

"But can't you just fly over?"

"Summer, I can barely get off the ground under normal circumstances! There's no way I could fly at a time like this!" Inwardly she berated herself for being so poor a flyer, but quickly stopped herself; there would be time for that later. Right now her sister needed her. "Just hold on!"

Aurora then dashed around the edges of the pool, hoping to find some safe path to the other side. The mire was wide and there seemed to be no clear way around it, save for a long, fallen tree, half-submerged longways in the murky water. It looked old and rotten, bare of bark and slippery, but Aurora saw no other way around. Carefully placing one hoof after another upon the log, she tread slowly from one end to the other, more than once nearly slipping into the swamp herself. But after a few tense moments she made it across to the edge of the clearing. Here the ground was more solid, with thick green grass and tougher soil.

"Here!" Again, she cast the willow branch into the swamp, aiding her throw with a bit of magic. At last Corona seized it in her teeth, just as the murk-water reached her stomach. Aurora planted her hooves firmly on the ground, took the other end of the branch in her mouth again, and pulled. She tugged for all she was worth, leaning back against her sister's weight and groaning in effort. The swamp put up a terrible fight, dragging back Corona back with what seemed like the strength of a dozen earth ponies; but at last, it started to give way.

Corona felt herself being pulled from the mire. Slowly but surely, the muck was releasing its death grip, and she felt herself rising out of the swampy pool and inching towards the shore. Soon the upper halves of her legs were free again, followed by her knees, and then both of her forelegs. She grasped madly at the ground, finally planting her front hooves on the bank of the mire.

"It's working!" she said through gritted teeth. "I'm almost out! I'm – "

"SHREEEEEIIIIIIIIK!!!!"

Both sisters froze. The sound had come from somewhere behind Aurora, from the direction of the ghost town. The night princess's blood ran cold, and the willow branch fell from her mouth.

"Anyway, that was when I heard it: some kinda screechin', howlin' sound. I ain't gonna lie, it chilled me right to the bone."

Pink Pearl's words rang in Aurora's head. Her pulse quickened – this was it.

Corona dropped her own end of the branch, pulling herself out of the pool and onto dry ground. She stared with frightened eyes past her sister and into the clearing. "Uh, sis… what… what is that thing?"

Aurora didn't answer. The air behind her grew chilly, and every hair from her tail to her mane stood on end. Slowly, with shaky breath, she mustered every ounce of willpower she had and turned around.

In the clearing stood a pony. She was tall, taller even than the princesses themselves, and bore huge black, feathery wings on her back. Her mane and tail were midnight-blue, flowing ethereally in the pale moonlight. About her neck hung the regalia of Equestrian royalty, colored silvery light-blue, and atop her head was a warrior's helm pierced by a long black horn. She stood many yards away, just outside a ruined brick home; but even from so long a distance, Aurora and Corona could both see the savage, toothy smile on her face.

"Nightmare Moon…." Aurora breathed.

At the sound of her name, the monster shrieked again. It was a hideous high-pitched sound that pierced their ears like a blade of cold steel. Aurora winced, unable to move, unable to fight, unable to think. Icy fear ran through her veins and froze her where she stood. Once again, memories of a long-past Nightmare Night came to her mind; but now they inundated it, paralyzing her thoughts with fearful visions and ringing with voices as clear as yesterday:

"Nightmare Moon will come and gobble you up!"

"Despair, ye ponies! For now cometh Nightmare Moon!"

"Blue… are you scared?"

Aurora trembled, her knees giving way. She collapsed, shutting her teary eyes as tightly as she could. There was nothing else she could do.

"Blue!" Corona cried, striding quickly to the fallen princess and kneeling at her side. Aurora's eyes were still shut fast, and tears streamed from their edges; Corona had never seen her sister in such a state. Raising her own eyes, she watched in dread as the nightmare before them advanced slowly, stepping towards them with grim purpose. Her black horn began to glow sickly green, and Aurora's trembling grew fiercer and her breathing heavier. It was doing something to her, Corona could tell – but what?

Well, whatever it was, she wouldn't let that thing get away with it. "You leave my sister alone!" she shouted at the advancing terror, now no more than a stone's throw away. Rising up to her full height, Corona's face hardened and she fixed a determined glare on her enemy.

Nightmare Moon now turned to her, meeting the princess's fierce eyes with a fiery white gaze of her own. She opened wide her mouth and let out another shriek, even more terrible than the first, and it sounded horribly triumphant, like a cruel burst of laughter. Corona shrank back a bit, but held her ground even as fear took her heart. No way was she letting this monster keep her from helping her sister.

"Oh yeah?" she shot back in answer to the shriek. "Well I don't think you're so scary! C'mon, show me what you've got!" And with that, she charged.

She didn't really know what she intended to do. Corona didn't usually think that far ahead. Impulse guided her decision and she ran with it, as she so often did. And this time, it cost her.

Grinning madly, the monster fired a luminous green bolt from her horn, striking Corona square in the chest. The force of the blow still sent her crumpling to the ground with a breathless grunt, the wind knocked from her lungs. For a painful moment she lay there, too shocked to move so much as a muscle; then she feebly raised her head, catching sight of her petrified sister trembling on the ground.

"Blue…" she said weakly, trying to recover her breath. "Help…."

Nightmare Moon strode to the fallen princess. Once again, her horn glowed ghostly green, and she looked down at Corona with hungry eyes, hissing and laughing wildly.

"Blue… please…."

Amidst the shrieking, amidst the hideous laughter and the sounds of the fight, Corona's feeble plea for help pierced Aurora's defensive shell. At last she opened her eyes: Nightmare Moon towered high over her sister, still grinning maniacally like a predator over its defeated, trembling prey.

Fear turned to anger. Aurora's icy blood boiled. She rose again to her hooves, staring the nightmare in the face with blazing eyes. Something inside her snapped; she felt her own magical energies welling up beyond the boiling point.

"Leave. Her. Alone!"

Nightmare Moon had only a second to react before she was struck by the magical equivalent of a ten-ton load. A radiant blue aura slammed into her, knocking her clean off her hooves and flinging her backwards quite some distance. With a mighty crash she collided with a wide oak tree, striking it with such force that the trunk splintered into flying bits of wood. She tried to rise to her hooves again, but fell to the ground after a single attempt, her will to fight utterly spent.

Aurora stood panting, breathless, as blue wisps of smoke rose from her horn. She'd never been able to summon that much energy before – it was as exhilarating as it was exhausting. But she spent no more time dwelling on it, and instead ran right to her sister's side. "Summer! Summer, are you all right?" she cried, her voice almost frantic.

"I'm… I'm fine," said Corona, picking herself up. Aurora knelt down at her side and helped her to stand. She coughed once, but after a moment her breathing returned to normal. "I'm okay. But what happened to – "

"AM IS NIGHTMARE MOON!"

Both princesses spun around to face the source of the shrieking voice. There, at the base of the splintered trunk, stood their defeated foe – but no longer did she resemble Nightmare Moon. Now she was just a small, black creature, with insectoid wings and a stringy, pale green mane, hobbling weakly towards them and trying her very hardest to muster some sense of menace. She was failing miserably.

"Am is Nightmare Moon!" she shrieked again in a failing voice.

"It's… it's a changeling," Aurora said, astonished.

The little changeling stumbled, falling upon the grass at Corona's feet. "Hungry… so hungry…" she whimpered, her voice raspy and broken. "Please… no hurt… please…."

For a long while the sisters stared at the slight creature, listening apprehensively as she cried softly and watching her little chest rise and fall with each labored breath.

"Blue," said Corona at last, looking up to meet her sister's eyes. "What do we do with her?"

Author's Note

Click here for Valkyrie-Girl's illustration of this chapter.

5: Love Heals

Springtime was Summer Sun's favorite time of year – next to summer, of course. She supposed it must have something to do with the feeling of freshness and rebirth that the season brought, when everything was new and bright and green, and the air was warm and the pink flowers bloomed and danced in the spring breezes. But mostly, she knew, it was because butterfly-catching season had come again.

"C'mon, Blue! There's more of them in the field by the creek!" After calling excitedly to her sister, Summer picked her butterfly net up in her mouth and ran down the hillside.

"Slow down a bit, Summer!" Blue Moon came running up to the hilltop behind her, pausing for a moment to take hold of her own net. But Summer barely heard her, as she was already busy leaping through the meadow chasing the winged rainbows she held so dear.

Catching butterflies had been a traditional pastime of theirs for almost a year now. Summer was the more enthusiastic about it – it had been her suggestion in the first place, after all – but in time Blue had grown to enjoy it as well, even if only because it meant spending more time with her sister. In spite of all their differences, time spent together was one thing that they both treasured.

While Blue stood stationary in the middle of the field, swatting at whatever butterflies came near, Summer was busy having more success. Giggling, she leapt into the air, netting two or three butterflies with every swing and letting them fly free a moment later just so she could have the pleasure of catching them again. Her colorful prey flitted above her head and across the meadow, leading her gradually under a cluster of short, gnarled crabapple trees that stood near the edge of the wood. She was so mesmerized by the dancing colors of the butterflies' wings that she didn't even notice the bird's nest until her net had already struck it.

With a tiny crash, the nest dropped from the low branch to the ground, sending its contents – three startled, frantically chirping robin chicks – tumbling across the grass. Summer dropped her net with a worried gasp, rushing at once to where the baby birds now lay. Two of them quickly hopped up on their tiny legs, but the third lay still.

"Blue!" she cried. "Come here, quick!"

"What is it?" Blue dropped her net, running across the meadow to her sister's side. "What happened?"

"I… I didn't see the nest up there," Summer said, her voice trembling, "and I knocked it over, and…."

Blue Moon nodded in understanding. Her heart sank as she noted the fallen nest and the unmoving baby bird. "Oh, Summer… I'm sorry. These things happen sometimes."

Summer lowered her head to the ground, prodding the bird with the tip of her snout while its siblings watched with concern. When it didn't move, tears started to fill her eyes. "It… it was an accident…." She sat on the grass, scooping the poor thing into her hooves and nuzzling it gently. Blue came to her side and placed a comforting hoof on her shoulder, unable to say anything else.

Before Summer had time for any further self-reproach, the chick started to move. Its legs and wings twitched subtly, its eyelids fluttered, its beak opened with a quiet "chirp!" A moment later it hopped down from Summer's hooves and joined its brother and sister, tweeting happily.

"Oh!" Blue stood up in surprise. "Huh. I guess he was just stunned."

Summer smiled warmly, drying her eyes. "Nah. He just needed a little love, that's all."

Corona looked down. At her feet lay the sad, wretched creature that her sister had just defeated, rasping in pain and writhing about in the dirt. Its shrieking voice had broken down to the point that it was unintelligible, nothing but sad whimpers and the occasional pained hiccup. When she looked closely Corona could swear she saw tears flowing from its half-open eyes.

Aurora stood across from her in silence, staring down expressionless at the pitiful sight. There was no malice in her blue-green eyes, but no apparent sympathy either. The moon shone brightly in the clearing behind her, casting her shadow over the poor, sniveling creature where it lay.

"Blue?" said Corona, prodding her sister again. "What do we do with her?"

"I don't know." Aurora glanced about, turning her head towards the crumbling buildings that stood beyond in the clearing. Her eyes narrowed. "Stay here," she said firmly, and began to walk towards what remained of the town square.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"To find the missing foals." Aurora stopped, pointing a hoof to the creature. "I've read a lot about changelings. They usually keep their victims imprisoned somewhere close: a cave, a cellar, a hidden room, something. It could be anywhere in this town. We have to find it."

"You think she's keeping them here?"

"Summer, this thing has likely been capturing foals for months. Changelings are parasites; they have to keep their hosts alive somehow, or else they'll be no good to them. If it's been…" Aurora shuddered as the next few words came squirming uncomfortably out of her mouth. "…If it's been feeding on them, then it must be keeping them nearby."

"But don't changelings feed on love? I thought they only fed on love." Corona looked back and forth between their downed enemy and her sister, her ruby eyes full of confusion. "How could she get them to love her? And why would she disguise herself as Nightmare Moon? None of this makes any sense, Blue."

Aurora's face scrunched contemplatively, and she sighed in defeat. "You're right. It doesn't. But we don't have time to work out all of the details right now. What's most important right now is that we find the missing foals. We can figure out the hows and the whys later, once they're safe."

"Okay, sis," Corona nodded sullenly. "Whatever you say. You know best."

Aurora's steely expression softened. "No, Summer," she said glumly, her ears drooping. "No I don't. Not really." She stepped back to Corona's side, meeting her sister's eyes with sorrow and regret. "I'm sorry for getting us into this mess. I'm sorry for leaping before I looked." She reached out a hoof, running it lovingly through Corona's mane before resting it on her shoulder. "And I'm so, so sorry you were almost hurt."

"Don't worry about me, Blue! I'm fine! Really!"

"But you almost weren't!" Aurora snapped. "You almost weren't fine. I almost lost you, Summer. I-I… I thought I was about to lose you." Aurora stopped herself as her voice started to choke. After a deep breath she began again. "You were almost hurt, and it's mostly my fault. But that thing," she pointed to the changeling, "is just as much to blame as I am. And it's not just us, either. A lot of ponies have been hurt by this creature. Remember Pink Pearl? Remember Lantern Jaw's father?"

"Well… yeah...." Corona's eyes fell again upon their defeated foe, now quiet and still. The last few minutes passed through Corona's mind: all of the shrieking, the pain, the sight of her sister paralyzed with terrible fear. She thought of Lantern Jaw, still unaware that his father lay comatose in a hospital bed. She thought of the families – eleven, the mayor had said – who still missed their foals. Her expression hardened. "Well, okay. I'll keep an eye on her."

Aurora smiled thankfully. "Good. Now don't move. I'll be right back." With that, she made her way deeper into the ghost town, leaving her sister to keep watch over their fallen enemy.

Now the forest grew still, but not entirely quiet. Here at the edge of the clearing, between the swamp and the ruined town, the woods sounded much livelier, gracing Corona's ears with the chirping of crickets and the song of night birds. It was a refreshing change from the suffocating silence of the deeper woods, and it helped her calm her nerves. It seemed to have the exact same effect on the changeling as well; the little creature's eyes had fallen shut and its heavy breathing had slowed and softened, interrupted only once in a while by a gentle sniffle or twitch.

"Tired little girl, aren't you?" Corona joked, smiling to herself. But her smile faded as she eyed the changeling more carefully. The blue flesh along its back appeared blackened and bruised and was pin-cushioned with splinters of wood. Corona remembered the resounding crack it had made when it struck the tree; it was a wonder the poor thing had even had the strength to walk afterwards.

"Hey," she leaned in, prodding it with her snout. It shifted a little, snorting in its sleep. "I'm sorry Aurora hit you so hard. But she had to save me. You were about to…." She paused in thought – what had it been trying to do? "What were you trying to do, anyway? Why were you pretending to be Nightmare Moon? Why would you want to scare everypony?"

The changeling laid still and quiet, saying nothing. Its eyes twitched and fluttered in sleep beneath closed lids, but it made no other movement.

"It doesn't make a whole lot of sense for you to be here, really," Corona continued. "I always thought changelings lived in big swarms. That's what Blue says, at least. Why would you be out in the forest all by yourself?"

Again, there was no reply.

Pausing, Corona frowned solemnly. "I don't know why I'm telling you all this, either. I guess I just wanted someone to talk to. You don't mind, do you?"

Still no answer. Corona's frown deepened and she sat back on her haunches with a tired sigh, resting her weary, aching limbs. Bored, she idly scraped the dirt with her hoof, noticing now that she'd lost her shoes in the swamp and that the lower parts of her legs were still caked with half-dry mud. It had, on reflection, been quite a night – lost in an unfamiliar forest, separated from their escort, stuck in a swamp, attacked by Aurora's worst fear – it was amazing she and her sister were still in one piece.

Half-smiling, she looked down at the changeling. "I guess it's been quite a night for you too, huh?" Her eyes ran up and down its little body, noting again the bruises and splinters – and now, something else as well. She'd seen illustrations of changelings before, but they all looked rather… well, fuller than the one that lay before her now. This one looked almost emaciated, its stomach thin and its little legs bony and fragile.

"I'll bet you're really hungry, huh? I can't imagine that there's much love out here in these woods for you to feed on. What's been keeping you alive?" Corona thought back, recalling the way its horn had glowed when it had attacked them, when Aurora had fallen to the ground in paralyzing terror. Wasn't that the way changelings fed? "But you weren't feeding on love, were you? It looked like you were feeding every time we got… Oh!"

The princess sat down, resting her head on her crossed forelegs at eye level with the sleeping changeling. "You were feeding on our fear, weren't you?" she whispered. "You couldn't get any love so you had to eat ponies' fear. That can't be healthy for a little changeling like you. No wonder you were so hungry."

"Summer?"

"Blue?" Corona rose to her hooves, spotting her sister returning from across the town square, her hooves clacking in a loud canter across the mossy, ruined cobblestone. "What's up?"

"There's nothing here," she reported. "All the homes are built on granite slabs to keep them from sinking into the swamp – no basements, no cellars, no hidden rooms. If it's keeping the foals around here somewhere, it's not in one of those houses."

"Um… Blue?"

Aurora's eyes moved around, searching through the trees. "Maybe there are other buildings nearby…."

"Actually, Blue…."

"Or some sort of cave…."

"Blue?"

"Or a huge hollowed-out tree…."

"Blue!"

At last Aurora paused, turning back to her sister. "What?"

"I don't think that's what she's doing," said Corona, and proceeded to explain her theory in as few words as she could.

"On fear?" Aurora echoed, puzzled. "I… I suppose it's possible. Love is the most inherently magical of all emotions, which is why changelings feed on it. But from what I've read, it's conceivable that they might…." She trailed off as horror seized her face. A shudder ran along her back, from her tail to the tips of her wings. "Summer, if it's been feeding on the captured foals' fear… I don't even want to think about what kind of condition they're in now. Come on, we've got to – "

"But she can't be!" Corona protested. "Look at her! She's starving! If she had a dozen foals to feed on, don't you think she'd be a lot less hungry?"

Both sisters looked down at the slumbering creature. It was just a scrawny as before, just as lean and gaunt – but now something seemed different. It lay perfectly still; its tiny chest no longer moved, its eyes no longer fluttered beneath their lids. The sound of its breathing had fallen silent.

"Blue?" Corona's voice shook. "Is… is she okay?"

"Doesn't look like it," Aurora replied coldly.

"Can't we do anything for her?"

"Summer, I don't think we really should. Even if it isn't responsible for the foalnappings, then it – "

"No!" Corona cried, scooping the unmoving creature into her hooves. She sat back down and pressed its tiny body protectively against her chest. "She was just hungry! And probably lonely, too, out in the woods all by herself. Where's the rest of her swarm?"

"I don't know," Aurora admitted. "There's no way to know. It's possible that it got lost… or was abandoned…."

Corona nodded sadly. "And now she's really hurt. We've got to do something for her!"

"Summer…" Aurora began slowly, but found herself at a loss for words.

When Corona spoke again, her voice was barely more than a solemn murmur as she cradled the changeling. "I don't want her to die, Blue." She lowered her head, squeezing her eyes shut to keep the tears at bay.

"I know, Summer. I'm sorry. I wish I could… I wish…." She trailed off.

"What is it?" the sun princess, opening her eyes again. Aurora was looking down at her – no, at the creature in her forelegs – and Corona looked down as well. Its tiny black horn had begun to glow, a pale ghostly green, so faint it was almost imperceptible. But quickly the light grew stronger, and as it did Corona felt an odd sensation, a giddy, bubbly warmth that seemed to flow from her heart into the tiny body in her forelegs. Try as she might, she couldn't hold back a giggle. "Hey, Blue… what's it doing?"

"Put it down!" Aurora commanded, fear and concern written all over her face. "It looks like it's feeding on you."

"Well, it doesn't hurt or anything," Corona argued. "And look! She's waking up!" At that moment, the changeling began to stir, slowly at first, no more than a slight twitching of its legs and a fluttering of its insectoid wings. But soon its eyes – her eyes – fluttered open: wide blue-green orbs, looking up at Corona not with malice or ravenous hunger, but simple curiosity.

"Hey there!" Corona cooed softly. "Feeling better?"

The changeling tilted her head inquisitively. She opened her mouth, perhaps to speak, but all that came out was a gentle cough. Her legs moved more vigorously now, like a cat begging to be put down. Corona moved to set the creature on the ground; she wobbled for a moment on weak legs, but soon regained her balance. Then she turned around and sat, looking up at Corona again. And now she was smiling.

Aurora stepped around to her sister's side. "It seems to like you now."

"I guess nopony's ever actually given her love before. She's always had to try and take it."

Before Aurora had a chance to respond, a sudden sound caught both their ears: the heavy trudge of hooves, echoing through the crumbling buildings and across the square. It was a familiar sound, one Corona had missed ever since they had gotten lost among the willows. The sisters moved to the edge of the moonlit square, gazing into the darkness beyond the town's edge, and spotted two familiar shapes moving towards them from some distance away.

"The guards! I guess they found us, then?"

"Actually, I think they were on the right path the whole time," Aurora explained. "I spotted the road on the other side of the square, leading into town; we must've wandered off of it at some point, and they just kept on following the trail." Her face flushed, and she half-smiled sheepishly. "I guess we'll have some explaining to do."

Corona smiled along with her, but then a terrible thought leapt into her mind. "But what about the changeling?" she cried. "We can't let them see her. They might want to hurt her!"

"Summer, for all we know, it might still want to hurt us! We can't just – "

"Princess Aurora! Princess Corona!" The guards' grim voices rang out as their hoofsteps drew nearer. They would be upon them in moments.

Aurora sighed. "Look, just… we'll keep her – keep it hidden somewhere," she whispered harshly, "And we'll decide what to do with it later. But let's deal with the guards first."

"Okay," Corona nodded, just as the guards – two sturdy, pale gray pegasus stallions – finally reached them, stopping at attention just in front of them.

"Your highnesses." The guard on the right bowed his head respectfully. "We thought we'd lost you. We must have become separated in the swamp." He looked the princesses up and down, taking note of Corona's mud-spattered legs and missing shoes. "What happened? Are you both all right?"

"More or less," Aurora answered. "We had a… an encounter, with a… um…."

"A wild animal!" Corona chimed in, beaming brightly. "But Aurora took care of it. And the swamp ate my shoes."

"Oh… I see," said the guard on the left. "So you found no sign of the foalnapper?"

Aurora and Corona shared a glance. "We… no, no we didn't," said Aurora. "The missing foals are definitely not here, at any rate." She issued a heavy, weary sigh, gazing back at the misty swamp behind them. "And at this point, I don't think we're likely to find anything else. Maybe we'd better head back to Ponyville. Preferably by a different route, if there is one."

"As you wish, your highness." The guard on the left made a few intricate jerks of his head, and the guard on the right nodded before turning about and trotting back across the square. "Lieutenant Ironhoof will find the other two guards and have them return to Ponyville by air. If the both of you would prefer to find another way out of the forest, I will accompany you."

Aurora thanked him, and then turned to her sister. "Corona, go get the map, would you?" She winked, slightly and subtly enough that the guard didn't catch it.

But Corona did. "Oh! Sure thing, sis. Be right back."

While Aurora stayed at the edge of the square chatting up the guard, Corona quickly made her way back to the edge of the swamp, just out of earshot. The changeling had moved a bit, and now sat trembling in the shadows under a tall willow, watching Corona with curious, uncertain eyes. The sound of the guards' approach must've frightened her, Corona thought – the poor thing must be as scared of ponies as they were of her.

"Nothing to be afraid of," said the princess, reaching down to stroke the creature's back with a comforting hoof. The changeling closed her eyes, snuggling affectionately into her touch. "We won't let anypony hurt you. But we're gonna have to figure out a way to hide you from the guards…."

Somewhere overhead, an owl cried out, its ghostly call of "who?" haunting their ears. Both the pony and the changeling turned their gazes upward; there in the tree sat a huge horned owl, gray-feathered and grim-faced. For a moment it leered down at them with round yellow eyes, and then with a great flap of its wings it leapt from the tree and flew off into the night.

When Corona's eyes returned to the changeling, something about her face had changed. The fear in her eyes was gone, replaced by what looked like a spark of an idea. Her tiny mouth curled into a grin, and her horn began to glow green again. Corona stepped back, as confused as she was curious. "Hey, what are you up to?"

In answer to her question, the green glow of the changeling's horn rose and extended outwards into a swirl of emerald, surrounding and obscuring her tiny body. There was a faint flash of white, and when the light died down the changeling was gone. In its place stood a short, stocky owl, identical to the one they had just seen, save for the ghostly greenish glow in its eyes.

Corona beamed. "Sweet! I'm sure the guards won't have a problem with an owl following us around. You're a clever little girl, you know that? Now to find the map so we can get out of here…." Her eyes wandered across the murky, marshy pool, scanning for the map as best they could in the dim forest light. At last she spotted it: on the ground across the mire she'd nearly sunken into lay the tattered, mud-spattered forest map. Aurora must've dropped it just before she'd rescued her from the swamp. It was too far away for Corona to reach it with her magic, and she certainly didn't feel like trying to wade through the muck again.

The changeling, still in owl form, waddled awkwardly to Corona's side. She looked up at the alicorn's distraught expression, and then at the map – and then, without any prompting, she spread her newly-feathered wings and rose into the air, flying shakily and haphazardly across the murky pool to where the map lay. Once there, she clasped the parchment in her talons and took to the air again, stronger this time, and with more confidence in her wing beats. She flew back and dropped the map on the ground beside Corona before settling comfortable atop the princess's back.

Corona craned her neck to meet at her gaze with confusion in her eyes. "Um… well, thanks, but… you didn't have to do that for me. I mean, it's not that I don't appreciate it, but… why help me?"

"Feed," she said in a coarse, croaking whisper. "You… feed me." It seemed to struggle with the next word, but eventually got it out. "…friend. You… friend?"

Something about the look in the changeling's green owl-eyes gave Corona pause. This wasn't the same creature that had attacked them earlier. It wasn't just that she appreciated a meal that she didn't have to fight for; being shown genuine affection had changed her somehow, opened her heart – whatever kind of heart changelings have. The thought of it made Corona smile.

"I'd love to be your friend," she said tenderly. "You've never had one before, have you?"

The "owl" shook its head sadly.

"Well, come on then! I'll help you make some more friends. But you're gonna have to keep up the owl act if we want to fool the guard, okay?"

When the changeling nodded, Corona turned forward again, picking up the map with her magic and trotting quickly back to the edge of the ghost town. When she arrived, Aurora and the guard were still deep in conversation: Aurora had kept him busy by having him give her a full report of the night's events from his perspective, and the bored, tired look on her face told Corona how interesting it must be. They both turned to look at her as she stepped back to her sister's side.

"I got the map!" Corona announced, passing it to Aurora. "It's a little muddy, but I think you can still read it."

The guard leered at the bird atop Corona's back. "Pardon me, your highness, but is that…?"

"Oh, this little guy? He's just a… well, we found him in the swamp. He wants to come home with us."

"Oh, yes," Aurora laughed nervously, taking hold of the map with her magic. "Corona's always been good with birds." She eyed the "owl" with mistrust, which shrank under her fierce gaze. Corona felt her new friend trembling on her back, and turned back to quietly shush her with a gentle nuzzle.

"Um… very well then, your highnesses. I don't suppose Glass Eye would object if Princess Corona wished to bring home a…." He searched for the word. "…a pet? A souvenir?"

"A new friend," Corona announced proudly.

"Close enough," said Aurora. Once more she turned to the disguised changeling and mouthed the words don't you dare try anything, and then unfolded the map and held it before her eyes. "Hmmm… it looks like there's another way out of the Everfree that doesn't lead back through the swamp. If we keep following that road" – she pointed to the road across the square that led east out of town – "then we'll come out not too far from Ponyville, even closer to town than we came in."

"Sounds good to me!" said Corona. The guard nodded, and without further ado the three of them set off down the trail.

For almost half a mile the path was paved with cobblestone – a remnant of the abandoned town – though it was broken up in many places, and overgrown with moss and lichens, and thick tree roots burst here and there from under the stones. Their footing was constantly uneven, and the changeling-owl bounced along on Corona's back, barely able to keep her balance. Eventually the trail became dirt again, and started moving uphill, out of the swamp and into a higher wood of solid earth and tall, dark pines. For a time the canopy of trees parted and the sky opened above their heads, brilliantly lit by the moon and innumerable stars, and the air was fresh and cool – but the branches closed in again after a short while, plunging them back into the Everfree's stifling gloom. All the while, multiple times a minute, Aurora would glance with stern eyes at the creature on her sister's back, but it never did anything more threatening than return her gaze.

Finally they caught sight of the trail's end, glowing with moonlight like the end of a long, dark tunnel. Excited, the princesses quickened their paces, leaving the guard in the dust some distance behind them. Corona's heart swelled with relieved joy to finally be free of that accursed wood; and, judging by the pace Aurora kept with her, her sister felt much the same way.

With a mutual sigh of relief, the princesses stepped out into the open air. Ponyville stood not more than mile away over rolling hills; they could see the dim figures of its houses and brick towers, windows all aglow with cozy yellow light. Amidst them rose the stately dome of the town hall, where the Mayor had promised to meet them once they'd returned.

Corona eyed the changeling that still sat atop her back. She was turning her head all about, taking in the new scene with what looked like both fear and wonder. Love and worry mingled in the sun princess's heart, and she turned to her sister for guidance. "Blue… what are we going to tell the Mayor?"

"I don't know," replied Aurora. She too set her eyes on the changeling; the look in the owl-creature's eyes was somber, almost apologetic. "She'll want to know about this. We can't keep it a secret from her."

"I know," Corona agreed solemnly. "I just… I don't want anything to happen to her now, Blue. Don't you think she's been through enough for one night?"

Aurora chuckled softly. "It – she – isn't the only one, Summer," she said with a tired shake of her head. "She's not the only one."

6: Experience

In spite of some bad hide-and-seek experiences early on, the forest behind Blue Moon and Summer Sun’s home eventually became the sisters’ favorite place to play – at least during the daytime. In spring and summer the treetops shone a wonderful leafy-green in the sunlight, and fresh breezes would come whistling through the trunks, shivering the branches and making the woods ring with a song of its own. Summer, having long since conquered her fear of getting lost, would lead expeditions through the bright greenery in search of lands unknown. Blue Moon would follow close behind, carrying her trusty map and compass in a saddlebag, making note of every new landmark they uncovered. It was perfect fun for both of them: Summer got to tramp through the woods, and Blue got to practice her cartography, and best of all, they got to spend hours together, just the two of them.

On one particular summer afternoon, the pair stumbled across a shallow, muddy creek they had never seen before that ran along the bottom of a small, but steep, ravine. A thick, mossy oak trunk lay fallen across the ditch, forming what looked to be a serviceable bridge. Determined to prove that the woods no longer frightened her, Summer leapt onto the log.

“Up here, Blue! This way!”

“I dunno, Summer,” Blue replied. “That log doesn’t look very safe. It’s all covered with moss. You’ll probably fall.”

Doubt clouded Summer’s bright eyes for the briefest of moments before bravado drove it out. “Aw, c’mon, Blue! It’s not that bad! See?” She stepped a couple of pace further onto the bridge, taking care not to slip on the moss.

Aurora watched, flabbergasted. “Summer! Be careful!”

“It’s okay!” Summer assured her, stepping forward again, now quite confident in her own sense of balance. “It’s not scary at all! All you have to do is not look down!”

Needless to say, at the very moment Summer spoke, she looked down – and saw that the ditch was a fair bit deeper than she had first thought. The murky stream that ran along the bottom suddenly looked like a tiny, distant river on the floor of a grand canyon. A sudden dizziness took hold of her, and she swayed uneasily on the bridge. “B-Blue?” she called out. “I-I-I can’t move! Blue!”

“Don’t panic!” Blue shouted, struggling to follow her own advice. “Just… just turn around really slowly, and come back!”

Trembling, Summer obeyed, turning as slowly as she dared. Then her hoof met a particularly slippery patch of moss. Then, suddenly, the sky was where the ground should be, and there was a loud shriek and a terrible splash.

Twenty minutes later, she found herself, bruised and band-aided, neck deep in the sudsy water of her bathtub back home.

“I’m sorry, Blue,” she mumbled. “Thanks for fishing me out. You’re always taking care of me.”

“It’s okay,” replied her sister, who sat just beside the tub. “It’s what I’m here for, remember? Just… just don’t do things like that, okay? You really scared me.”

Summer nodded sadly. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to show you that I wasn’t scared.”

“I know, Summer. But you should probably say you’re sorry to Mom and Dad, too. They’re the ones who really took care of you; I just pulled you out of the water.”

“M’kay.” Summer hung her head, eyes closed – and then, after a brief spell of silence, she grinned. “Hey, Blue?”

“Yes, Summer?”

“Thanks for being there. I’m really glad you’re my sister.”

Blue wasn’t sure what to say. She just smiled in return.

Tally Mark’s office, situated on the uppermost floor of Ponyville’s city hall, was a modest square room with beige walls, a hardwood floor, and a great mahogany desk sitting just in front of a wide window. The desktop was buried under mountains of paperwork, stacked and organized roughly into “to do” and “done” sections; the former pile was much larger than the latter. After seeing the princesses off, she had come back expecting a long night of tiresome reading, scribbling her signature on dotted lines, and turning page after uninteresting page. She most certainly did not expect Aurora and Corona to return a mere few hours later, and she’d expected them to bring a live changeling into her office even less.

“You just found it?” she asked, peering with suspicious eyes over stacks of papers at the timid creature on Corona’s back.

“Well, uh…we….” Corona stuttered.

“No,” Aurora stepped in. “It… she attacked us. This is the ‘ghost’ that everypony has been seeing, masquerading as Nightmare Moon to feed on ponies’ fear. I don’t know how she copied the form, though – wouldn’t she have had to see Nightmare Moon with her own eyes first?”

Tally Mark nodded hastily. “There’s an old statue of Nightmare Moon just on the border of the Everfree,” she explained. “We used to hold Nightmare Night celebrations there, before the forest began to grow more dangerous.” She glared again at the little changeling. “But… I’m sorry, your highnesses, but what is it doing here? Is it not responsible for the foalnappings?”

“She couldn’t be!” Corona objected. The changeling hopped down off of her back as she spoke, and stood wobbling on weak legs before collapsing to the floor in a tired heap. Corona scooped her up with magic and set the tired creature on her back again. “The poor little thing was starved. If she had been stealing love from foals, wouldn’t she have been healthier?”

Aurora nodded in solemn agreement. “My sister has a point. Eleven foals would keep a changeling well-fed for years. And besides, I searched the ghost town; there was nowhere she could’ve been hiding them. I hate to say it, but I don’t think that our ‘ghost’ problem is related to the disappearances.”

“But it is responsible for the ponies in the hospital?” Tally Mark probed, eyeing Aurora uncertainly.

“Well… yes,” Aurora admitted.

“But she’s not like that anymore!” Corona cut in. “She was just scared and hungry and alone!”

“What she means,” Aurora explained to the confused Mayor, “is that this creature was just lashing out from instinct, and probably desperation as well. When Summer – when Princess Corona voluntarily offered her love, it… changed her somehow. For the better.”

“Now she really likes me,” Corona continued, looking back at the changeling. “Aw, look! Now she’s fallen asleep.”

“The point,” Aurora finished, “is that I don’t think she’s much of a threat anymore.”

The Mayor looked back and forth between the two princesses. Aurora had a worn and frazzled look about her, but Corona was in even worse shape – her legs coated to the knees in dry brown mud, her golden mane mussed and tangled, her once-smooth coat all speckled with dirt. She smiled, but it was a weary smile, so faint and fragile that it looked likely to disappear entirely if the princess didn’t get some rest soon. Tally Mark lowered her head with a quiet sigh as she worked her troubled mind.

At length, Aurora spoke up again. “If there’s anything else we can do….”

After a pause, Tally Mark shook her head. “No, thank you, Princess. You’ve done this town a wonderful honor just by coming here. I can ask no more of you tonight.”

Aurora smiled in reply, but her glad expression was tainted with shame. “I… I appreciate your kind words, Mayor. I’m so sorry we couldn’t have been more helpful.”

“It’s quite all right,” the Mayor assured her, after hesitating for an instant. “You’ve solved the more baffling of our mysteries: the mysterious alicorn, the comatose ponies, Pink Pearl’s story – hm, I suppose she’ll want to know about this, too.” She laughed gently, imagining how her friend might react to the news, before her smile faded again. “We’ll just have to continue our search for the missing foals ourselves.”

“But we can still help with that!” Corona argued, though her argument might’ve sounded stronger if it hadn’t ended in a colossal yawn. She blinked tiredly. “Or, um… maybe we can come back another time and help.”

Tally Mark nodded. “Perhaps that’s for the best.”

Aurora bowed her head in gratitude, and Corona followed her example. “Thank you, Mayor. You’ve been remarkably patient with us both. If there’s anything more we can do for you, or for Ponyville….”

“I assure you, Princess,” Tally Mark said earnestly, “It’s me who should be thanking you. But… I’m sorry, your highnesses, but I must know: what do you plan to do with that?” She pointed a hoof at the changeling.

Both princesses’ eyes fell upon the tiny creature, still resting atop Corona’s back. She yawned, fluttered her insect wings, and snuggled her smiling face closer into Corona’s yellow coat.

“We haven’t quite decided yet,” Aurora admitted after an uncomfortable silence.

“We could take her back to the palace!” Corona suggested brightly. “I wonder if they’d let us keep her there….”

“Probably not,” Aurora answered quietly. Her face darkened, and for a moment she looked broodingly at the floor. Then her head rose again, and she met Tally Mark’s gaze with pleading eyes. “In the mean time, Mayor – would you mind, well… not mentioning this to anypony? The changeling, I mean.”

“You certainly don’t need to ask me, your highness,” replied the Mayor. “But… well, the fact is that there are over a dozen ponies sleeping in our hospital right now. Knowing that a changeling is responsible would make it much easier to help them, to know how best to treat them.”

Corona frowned sadly. “Oh. I didn’t think about that….”

Aurora scrunched her face in contemplation. Keeping the changeling a secret was one thing, but the thought of outright lying to her subjects churned her stomach. “Perhaps,” she said at last, “I could show the changeling to one of our researchers back in Canterlot. I’m sure he or she could figure out a treatment.”

For several seconds, Tally Mark seemed to contemplate this. Then she nodded. “That sounds reasonable. But I must implore you, your highness: please hurry. I can’t keep the truth from my citizens indefinitely, not when a solution is so close at hoof.”

“I understand,” said Aurora, and meant it wholeheartedly. She hadn’t forgotten her promise. Something will be done.

With that, they left the Mayor’s office. Corona briefly woke the sleepy changeling so that she could resume her owl disguise, and once their guards rejoined them, they made their way to the carriage. The ride back to the train station was blanketed by an uneasy quiet, and Aurora and Corona found themselves unable to meet each other’s eyes. The “owl” had now hopped up on Corona’s shoulder and perched there, sleeping; the guards silently accepted its presence, and marched along in perfect step behind them all the way to the station. Black smoke was already rising from the locomotive’s funnel by the time they arrived, and within a minute they were on their way home.

The train ride was slightly less uneasy. The windows were still overhung with thick curtains, and the warm golden glow of the coach’s wall-mounted lamps was cozy and soothing. Free of the guards’ overbearing presence, Aurora at last spoke, unburdening her troubled mind.

“We can’t keep her,” she said to her sister, eyeing the sleeping changeling. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Of course we can!” Corona argued. “Nopony needs to know about her yet. Except maybe Glass Eye. He wouldn’t mind, would he?”

“But we can’t keep her a secret forever. Summer, we’re struggling to gain approval as it is. How would the rest of Canterlot react if they found out that we’re keeping a live changeling in the palace?”

“But we can’t just turn her over to the council!” Corona hugged the “owl” closer to her chest. “They wouldn’t understand. They’d probably try to hurt her somehow! Can’t we just let Glass Eye see her? He’d know what to do. He always does.”

Aurora sighed. “Summer, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. I just… I just….” Her head fell in silence, and for a moment she simply sat listening to the quiet clacking of the train-wheels as it raced along the tracks. When she spoke again, her voice was low and uneasy. “I’ll talk this over with Glass Eye,” she agreed. “But we can’t just let this issue sit forever. We’ve got a bigger responsibility to our subjects than to one little changeling.”

Corona frowned, but nodded. “I understand,” she said sullenly.

After that, the ride was silent all the way back to Canterlot.

When at last they arrived, it was still some hours before sunrise. More guards met them at the train station and escorted them through the city’s quiet streets back to the palace. It was a short walk down a wide stone boulevard, but it felt much longer to the sisters for the weight on their shoulders – or rather, the weight that sat perched, still sleeping, on Corona’s shoulder. The silvery moon above seemed unusually bright, shining down on them like a comforting smile, a friendly face trying to tell them that all was well. Corona eventually relaxed, but Aurora’s mood only seemed to grow darker.

Glass Eye met them just inside the gate and received them warmly. Leaving the troop of guards behind, they followed him down the dim castle hallways and upstairs to his office, where he stopped just outside the tall wooden door.

“It would appear you two had quite the adventure,” he said with a sly grin, noting Corona’s muddy legs, missing shoes, and disheveled mane.

The sun princess grinned sheepishly in reply. “Heh heh… yeah, I guess you could say that.” She then looked down and blushed, seeing that her muddy hooves had left tracks across the elegant carpeted floor. A sudden flash of guilt struck her when she realized that she must have left Tally Mark’s office in the same state. “Hey, Aurora?” she said. “Would you, would you mind if I got a bubble bath? Right now?”

Aurora nodded understandingly. “Go right ahead. I’ll explain everything.” Her horn glowed with a pale blue-white energy, and she magically lifted the still-slumbering “owl” from Corona’s back to her own. The old unicorn eyed it curiously, but smiled in tentative approval.

“A new friend, perhaps?” he inquired as he opened the door for her.

“Exactly,” Aurora muttered, stepping inside. Glass Eye took a moment to turn back and offer Corona a friendly wink before joining the other princess in the office. The door closed, leaving her alone in the hallway.

Tiredly, Corona made her way up the spiraling tower staircase and stepped through the door just beside her bedchambers. Inside was a spacious and warmly-lit room of beautiful white stone, at the center of which stood a large round bathtub. After shedding her mud-stained regalia, the weary princess selected a few soaps from a nearby shelf, switched on the faucet with a loud squeak, and settled into the tub as it quickly filled with steaming-hot water.

A bubble bath, Corona quickly discovered, was precisely what she needed. After hours of trekking through woods and sitting uncomfortably in trains and carriages, just the steamy air and soothing scent of the soap was indescribably rejuvenating. Already she could feel the sudsy water lifting the grime off of her coat. She sighed contentedly, relaxing her weary, aching limbs as she sank deeper into the foam, happy for the moment just to lose herself and forget. Aurora would work everything out, she told herself – just like she always did.

At some point in her repose she must have fallen asleep. A knock on the door jarred her awake and she sat up quickly. “Hello? Who’s there?”

“It’s me.” Aurora stepped inside, not waiting for an invitation; she knew her sister wouldn’t mind. She shut the door behind her and made her way to the side of the tub.

Corona smiled at her – but her smile faltered when she remembered what Aurora had spoken with Glass Eye about. “So, um… what did he say?”

“He’s agreed to let us keep the changeling hidden for now,” Aurora explained. “On the grounds that….” She seemed to struggle crossly with the rest of her sentence, but at length the words came crawling uncomfortably out of her mouth. “…on the grounds that I take her to see Lord Stargazer tomorrow, and let him figure out what to do.” She shuddered at the thought. “But that wasn’t all we talked about. Do you remember that this was supposed to be a test of our abilities? To see if we could handle a crisis?”

“Oh, yeah. Did we pass?”

Aurora shrugged. “Well, we didn’t quite pass, and we didn’t quite fail. Glass Eye thinks we did the best we could, given the situation. He went to speak with the council for a short spell; the only thing they all agreed on is that we’d been through enough for one night. Lost in the woods, attacked by a ‘wild animal’ – it was enough to convince them to give us a few days off.”

“Oh. That’s good, I guess.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Silence fell, and for the first time that night, it wasn’t terribly uncomfortable. In the aftermath of a misadventure, the sisters finally felt at ease to simply enjoy each other’s company. Corona sank back into the bath, and Aurora sat close beside her, staring across the room and out the window on the far wall at the cold, starry sky beyond.

“Blue,” Corona finally spoke up. “I’m sorry.” There was an uneasy shadow in her voice.

“Sorry?” Aurora echoed. “About what?”

“Everything.” The shadow in Corona’s voice spread to her face, and she looked down shamefully. “I was all kind of my fault, really. I got us lost in the swamp. I fell in the bog. I got hurt by the ‘ghost.’ You had to save me, and Glass Eye has to cover for us, and Tally Mark got mud tracked all over her nice office floor.” She turned, casting her sad gaze out the window as this new, unhappy thought flowered in her mind. “It’s always been like that, hasn’t it? You have to save me, and somepony else has to clean up the mess.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Aurora said tenderly, “it’s really mostly my fault.”

Corona turned to look at her. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been trying to be the sensible one,” Aurora continued. “I’ve been trying to be the one who takes care of you, of Equestria, of everything. But I haven’t been doing that at all. I’ve made awful decisions. I led us head-first into a problem we weren’t ready to solve. I let you get hurt. And now I’m keeping a secret from most of the kingdom. Summer… Summer, I’m a terrible princess. And I’m a terrible sister.”

Corona sat silently for a while as well. The shadow over her face seemed to grow deeper – and then, in a strange flash of insight, it started lift. A faint smile broke out on her lips, like the summer sun, her namesake, peering out from behind a wall of clouds. “I guess that just means we both have a lot to learn,” she said. Her voice brightened considerably. “And you know what? It’s okay. I mean, you don’t need to worry about it or anything. We’re not perfect, but we’re getting there, aren’t we? We’re still just learning.”

“Well, I suppose so,” Aurora conceded.

“And besides,” Corona went on, “I don’t care how good a princess you are, or how many mistakes you make, or anything.” She turned her smile directly on Aurora. “I’m still really glad you’re my sister.”

For several seconds, Aurora stared back at her with glistening eyes, unsure of what to say. That smile was so warm, so bright, so sincere, that it seemed to melt her worries away entirely. “Th-thank you,” she said at last, with a noticeable catch in her voice. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that.”

“It’s no big deal,” said Summer, sinking blissfully back into the sudsy water. “Now go on! You’re probably gonna need a bath, too. Lemme have mine!”

“Okay, okay!” Aurora turned and stepped away from the tub, shaking her head and suppressing a laugh. She stopped at the door and smiled back. “I love you, Summer. I’m… I’m glad you’re my sister, too.”

“Love you too, sis. And thanks.”

“Good night.”

“G’night.”

7: Good Enough

The town where Blue Moon and Summer Sun lived as fillies was a relatively small one, but it had more than enough families with foals to require a school. The schoolhouse was a humble wooden building, painted a pleasant shade of strawberry and situated on a quiet, tree-shaded lane with a sunny playground on the hillside just behind it. The place had a fine atmosphere and the teacher did a good job of making the lessons interesting, but Blue Moon, being something of a bookworm, often found herself rather bored; most of the subjects that they studied were things she had already read about. Summer was more enthusiastic, drinking up information from every lecture, talking with her sister all afternoon about what she’d learned, and promptly forgetting most of it before the following day. Blue, in the mean time, got most of her actual learning done at lunch.

At the edge of the playground stood a row of low wooden picnic tables where Blue, Summer, and their few friends usually sat to eat lunch. While Summer engaged in friendly chatter, Blue sat at the end of the furthest table with her nose buried in a book – usually one of her beloved atlases or geography texts. After a time she began bringing her cartographical tools as well, making sketches of the school grounds and surrounding area as practice exercises. Occasionally Summer would look over her shoulder while she worked, drawing the attention of the other fillies and colts who were always wowed by Blue’s mapmaking skills. Blue didn’t much enjoy this; she would’ve preferred to work in peace.

One cool, blustery lunch hour in early autumn, Blue was sitting in her usual place with a small stack of maps and charts spread out before her when Picture Perfect walked up. Picture was a green earth pony with a stylishly swept-back blue mane which she loved to brag about. Even at her young age she had already earned a cutie mark in high fashion modeling, which she also loved to brag about. Picture was one of the few ponies Blue couldn’t stand to be around, the sort of pony who took every opportunity to mock, belittle, and generally pick on anyone she thought was beneath her, which was pretty much everyone.

“Working on those maps again, are we?” she asked, her voice dripping with obvious contempt.

“Yes,” muttered Blue, not even bothering to look at her. “And I don’t need any comments from you, okay?”

“Why not? By the look of things, I would think you’d appreciate any advice you could get.” She eyed Blue’s sketches as if they were pitiable pieces of trash. “It’s not as if the stuff you’ve got now is any good. I mean, what’s that blob? Is that the schoolhouse? That’s pathetic.”

Blue ignored her, taking a pencil in her mouth and continuing to sketch. She had to hold down the edges of the chart with her hooves; the stiff autumn winds threatened to blow it away.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you even bother with all this,” Picture continued. “If you were any good at mapmaking, don’t you think you’d have a cutie mark for it? Instead of that weird one you’ve got now, I mean. What’s it even supposed to be, anyway? A cookie?”

Blue spat out the pencil. “It’s not a cookie!” she cried. “It’s the moo – ”

“Stop it, Pix,” said a blue pegasus filly from across the table. It was Whirlwind, one of Blue and Summer’s closest friends. “Leave her alone. It’s not funny to anypony but you.”

Saying nothing, Picture Perfect fixed an angry glare on Whirlwind, filling her eyes with all the scorn she could muster. When the other filly made no response, she turned to walk away with an exaggerated movement of her hips, brushing her tail across the table and scattering Blue’s stack of papers into the wind. “Oops,” she said, loudly and with obvious sarcasm.

Picture might well have gotten away with this stunt had the teacher not been watching closely. She interceded to reprimand Picture and escort her to a different table while Summer and Whirlwind chased after Blue’s loose maps and charts, which by now were fluttering in the breeze some distance down the hillside.

After a few minutes all of the maps had been recovered, but by that time the lunch break had ended, and the foals were slowly filing back into the schoolhouse. Blue stuffed the papers back into her notebook, frowning and grumbling under her breath as she did so. Concerned, Summer threw a comforting foreleg around her shoulder, pulling her into a friendly side-hug. “It’s okay, Blue. Picture Perfect is just a big meanie-pants. You don’t have to listen to her.”

“But she’s right, isn’t she?” Blue’s voice was low and solemn. “I like to pretend I’m a good mapmaker, but I’m really not. I just make these silly little drawings that don’t look anything like real maps.” She took a random page in her hoof, looking down sadly at her rudimentary sketchwork. “They’re no good.”

“Yes they are!” Summer objected. “They’re awesome! And it’s really cool that you’re able to make them all by yourself. I bet nopony else in our class can draw maps as good as yours.”

“Well, I guess that’s true,” Blue admitted reluctantly.

“Besides,” Summer went on, “it doesn’t really matter. You could be the best mapmaker in the whole world and it wouldn’t make any difference. I’d still love you the same no matter what.” She released Blue from the hug and started trotting back towards the school building. “Now c’mon, class is about to start again. Don’t wanna be late, right?”

Smiling just a little, Blue followed her sister back inside. It had done her a world of good being reminded what was really important.

Day dawned slowly that morning. Aurora and Corona were both still exhausted from the night’s events, and what little rest they had gotten before dawn didn’t do them much good. Working together with great effort they managed to haul the sun over the horizon, spilling daylight across Equestria in a breathtaking spectacle that they were both too tired to appreciate; and afterwards, the sunrise left them so magically drained that there was nothing they could do but to return to bed. Aurora was nearly asleep even before her head hit the pillow, unable to remember the last time she had felt so worn out. Her slumber was deep and dreamless.

She awoke just before noon, mostly well-rested, but still under the weight of some lingering drowsiness. Gentle daylight filtered through her curtains, but Aurora kept her eyes shut to it, hoping to grab a little more rest before she actually got out of bed. She breathed deeply, savoring the softness of her pillow and the cool white sheets and wondering why she couldn’t just stay there all day, peaceful and content. Unfortunately, a loud knock at the door abruptly ended that line of thought.

Heaving a weary sigh, she rose in her bed to face the door. “Come in.”

The door opened, and in stepped a teal-coated unicorn, pulling a cart of janitorial supplies behind her. “Good morning, your highness!” she said in a cheery young voice. Aurora thought she recognized her: it was one of the Holly sisters, the maids in charge of upkeep in the princesses’ chambers. With the sleep still in her eyes, Aurora couldn’t quite tell which one it was; they always looked and sounded so similar.

“Um, now’s normally the time of day when I come in and clean,” said the maid, “but since you’ve slept in a little later than usual – well, please pardon me for barging in – ”

“No, no,” Aurora said. “It’s quite all right.” She rolled out of bed and stood, blinking tiredly and shaking her wavy black mane out of her face. With her vision thus cleared, she could see that the maid was Holly Ribbon, identifiable by her red-and-white striped mane, which hung down on her shoulders in two thick braids. She and her sister Sprigg had joined the palace staff just in time for Aurora and Corona’s ascent, and it hadn’t taken them long to earn a reputation for their efficiency. Already Ribbon was set about her task, levitating a feather duster and brushing clean every object she came across with a noticeable air of urgency.

Aurora plodded across the carpeted floor to her dresser, giving Ribbon a moment to dust it off before beginning to don her regalia. “Do you know if my sister is out of bed yet?” she asked.

“Er – yes,” said Ribbon, still dusting hastily. Now she had moved to Aurora’s tall bookshelf, working her way across the round wall. “She got up about ten minutes ago…which gave Sprigg a ten-minute head start on her room. Oh! Let me make the bed for you.” Quickly she rushed over and pulled up the covers, taking a moment to magically smooth them out and fluff the pillows. “There! Yes, Princess Corona is up. She went downstairs to the throne room to speak with Glass Eye about… oh, about something. I’m sure you know better than I, your highness.”

“Yes, I have a pretty good idea.” Aurora finished dressing, finally setting her tiara atop her head. She looked at herself in the mirror: the lightweight silver crown looked strange in her reflection, as if it didn’t belong there, and seemed to weigh unusually heavy on her brow. Frowning, she took it off and set it on the dresser again – no need to wear it as long as she didn’t leave the palace grounds.

Just then a voice rang out from the hallway. “DONE! Take that, Ribbon!” Seconds later, Holly Sprigg thrust her head into the room, smirking. She looked almost identical to her sister, save for the green-and-white striped mane tied into a single braid. She spoke in a loud brash voice, smug with triumph. “Furniture dusted, floor swept, bed made – all under ten minutes! How’s that for efficiency?”

“What? How did….” Ribbon growled, and glanced at the clock she had just finished dusting. “Oh, horsefeathers. Well look, I’ve still got eight minutes to beat your time. Just you wait….” She seized her duster and set about her task again, working even more hurriedly than before, muttering angrily to herself all the while.

“Don’t keep me waiting too long,” Sprigg jeered, which only spurred Ribbon to work even faster.

For a moment Aurora contemplated stepping in and explaining that not everything had to be a competition – but then, their competitive attitudes were what made the Holly sisters so efficient in the first place. Shaking her head, she moved on down the hallway, leaving the two bickering maids behind her.

She descended the tower stairs and arrived at the throne room. It was mostly empty (as it usually was these days), but several ponies stood just before the royal dais at the far end of the wide hall. Coming closer, Aurora spotted her sister, who smiled in cheerful greeting at her approach. The changeling stood at her side, keeping as close to Corona as she could, leaning her little body against one of the sun princess’s legs. Glass Eye stood just across from her. Aurora was about to smile in return when she saw who else was with them.

At Glass Eye’s side stood a handsome white unicorn. He was very tall, almost at eye level with the princesses, and very sturdily built. A thick, curly yellow mane fell about his neck, a perfect match for the elegant purple cape draped around his shoulders. He looked at Aurora with cool blue eyes that brimmed with authority, and his lips were curled lightly into a smug half-grin that filled her with the urge to wheel around and buck him in the chin every time she saw it. “Good morning, your highness,” he said. “Or rather, good afternoon. How lovely to finally see you up and about.” His voice was smooth and cool.

“Lord Stargazer,” Aurora greeted him evenly, keeping her resentment beneath the surface.

“It is good to see you awake, Princess,” said Glass Eye. “We had thought about sending for you, but Princess Corona was most insistent that you be allowed to rest.”

“I figured you were probably as tired as I was,” Corona explained. “Hope you didn’t mind, sis.”

“Yes, well,” Glass Eye interrupted gently. “We were just discussing what to do about our… our new friend here. Princess Corona is also most insistent that it – ”

“That she,” Corona corrected him.

“Yes, my apologies. That she be kept here in the palace and taken care of, at least for the time being.”

The changeling stepped out from Corona’s side and looked up at the other princess, smiling faintly in recognition. “Friend?” she said. Her voice was scratchy and high-pitched, but it was far from the dreadful shrieking that had so frightened Aurora in the swamp. Now she looked small and harmless, perhaps even innocent. At any rate, this was clearly a different creature than the crazed, half-starved monster that had attacked them the previous night.

Upon seeing her again, Aurora felt a sudden stab of remorse. “Yes, about the changeling,” she said. “I’m afraid I made one bad decision last night after another. I asked the mayor not to mention our discovery to anyone, but there are ponies in Ponyville who are suffering from some kind of illness – from having their fear drained time and again by this… well, by her. I had hoped that, if we brought her back here, there might be somepony who knew how to handle it….”

“Of course, of course,” Glass Eye interjected as Aurora trailed off. “I brought that matter to Lord Stargazer just after you and Princess Corona retired last night. Given that he has had all night to think, I am certain that he has a solution.”

“Indeed I have,” said Stargazer. “Though of course, it certainly didn’t take me all night to arrive at it. The mechanics of changeling magic are well-known to any magical scholar worth his salt, and we’ve got more than a few at our University. Now, as for this… this delightful little creature….” He smiled, perhaps a bit sardonically, down at the changeling. “The fact that she fed on ponies’ fear, rather than their love, is no great discovery. Changelings have been documented feeding on all manner of emotions – guilt, joy, nostalgia, what-have-you – in cases of dire need. It’s nothing new.”

“See, Blue?” said Corona. “She wasn’t a monster. She was just starving.”

Aurora nodded, but she grimaced subtly at Stargazer’s tone of voice, which seemed to have an edge of condescension. Clearly he enjoyed letting her know how much she still had to learn.

“Simple folk remedies for ‘changeling drain’ have existed for centuries,” he went on, “soups and herbs and potions, dreadful things – but of course, we can’t rely on those silly old superstitions. Fortunately, one of the experts at the University – under my supervision, of course – has been working on a proper cure for some time. I’ve a great faith in her abilities, and in her credentials. After all,” he laughed haughtily, “she was one of my pupils. Perhaps you’ve heard of a Professor Somnambula?”

At this announcement, Glass Eye’s one visible eye widened. “Wait – you mean – ”

“I do,” said Stargazer to Glass Eye. “None other than your granddaughter, old friend – a splendid intellectual, as I’m sure you already know. I sent for her this morning.”

“Ah, good, good,” said Glass Eye, nodding. Somnambula was the eldest of his three granddaughters, and the first to follow in his hoofsteps and graduate from the Arcane University. He hadn’t spoken with her in some time, and was clearly happy at the thought of meeting her again.

“Yes, quite,” Stargazer continued. “I’ve given her a magic history course to teach from eleven-thirty to one, so I expect she’ll arrive in, oh, a little over an hour. In the mean time – Princess Corona, since you seem to have developed something of a rapport with our changeling friend, perhaps you’d care to get her settled in for however long she’ll be staying here.”

“Sure thing!” Corona turned to walk away, nudging the little changeling to follow her. “Come on, Ghost!”

“Ghost?” Aurora echoed. “You named her Ghost?”

“Uh huh!” Corona nodded. “That’s kind of what we’ve been calling her this whole time, isn’t it? The ‘ghost?’ And she lived in a ghost town, so why not?” She leaned in closer to Aurora and spoke in a low voice, too low for little Ghost to hear. “I tried talking with her, Blue – she doesn’t have a name of her own. Nopony has ever really taken care of her at all. She used to be part of a hive, but for some reason they left Equestria and never came back for her. She wouldn’t say anything else.”

“Keep talking with her,” Aurora answered quietly. “Maybe we can learn more. I’m sure Professor Somnambula will want to know everything.”

Corona nodded agreement, and together she and Ghost trotted from the throne room.

“Well then,” said Stargazer, “if this matter is settled, I’d best be on my way. I’ve classes to teach, ponies to instruct, research to oversee – a busy day, as I’m sure you can imagine. Enough to tax even my mental faculties.” He began moving towards the door, but stopped short after a few steps and turned back to look at Aurora. “Ah, before I go, your highness,” he said, “I nearly forgot to mention how terribly surprised I was when I read your report of last night’s events, particularly that fascinating bit about how you defeated the changeling. I must say, I hadn’t expected you to grasp defensive magic so quickly.”

For a moment Aurora stared back in surprise. She rarely got praise of any kind from her instructor, though something in his tone suggested that it might come with a disclaimer. “It… it wasn’t entirely intentional,” she admitted. “I was angry, and I had to protect my sister. That was all I thought about. The magic just happened.”

“Of course it did.” Stargazer’s smug grin vanished. He looked fixedly at Aurora, who blenched under his stern gaze. All the haughtiness had gone from his voice; now there was nothing but cold, biting disapproval, the same disapproval Aurora had heard in every training session every night for the past two months. “And given your track record, I should have suspected that such was the case. I had hoped that you were making progress, but this only goes to show how little progress you’ve actually made.”

“What?” she protested. “But I was able to – ”

“What you were ‘able to do,’ you accomplished only because you lost your temper. Hurling wild bolts of lightning in a sudden fit of rage isn’t the same as progress. All it demonstrates is a lack of control. Perhaps when you’re ready to apply your mind to the task of magic, then we can resume your training. Until then, your highness, I do hope that enjoy your days off.”

With a contemptuous toss of his yellow mane he turned and strode crossly out of the room.

Aurora’s cold eyes followed him as he left. “I can’t believe him,” she said at length. “What in Equestria did he expect me to do? What does he want from me?” She sighed heavily and sat down, lowering her head and letting her dark mane spill in front of her face. “Nothing I do is ever good enough for him.”

Silently, Aurora stared hard at the white stone floor as anger and discouragement swirled together inside her. Even after months of devoted training, of burying her nose in books of theory, of putting up with Stargazer’s endless abuse, he still had no more respect for her than he had for the laziest of his students. And as long as she remained under his tutelage, he could continue to treat her with as much or as little respect as he saw fit, royal status or no. Of course, Aurora cared little for her status; what made her blood boil and her heart sink was his disregard for all her hard work, how all her efforts to earn the slightest bit of approval were met with nothing but contempt.

She hadn’t realized she was trembling until she felt Glass Eye put a steady, comforting hoof on her shoulder.

“You said the University board made a good decision making him my teacher,” she muttered bitterly without looking up. “You said there was no finer magical scholar in all of Equestria.”

“If I may, your highness,” he said gently, “I believe I understand your frustration. Lord Stargazer was once a student of mine, you know. And even though he was the finest magician I ever instructed, he never had much respect for anypony besides himself. I taught him many things, but compassion and humility are not lessons a pony can teach in a classroom. Your dedication to your work is admirable – perhaps in time he will learn to see it.”

Aurora turned to her advisor. His voice was warm and gentle, and his face had a kindly look about it; he seemed less like a butler, as he usually did, and more like a grandfather. She took a few deeps breaths and calmed herself. “It’s not his approval I really care about,” she said. “It’s everypony’s. All of Equestria’s. If I can’t please one arrogant unicorn… how will this whole country ever respect us? How will it ever love us the way it loved Celestia and Luna?” She could feel her throat tightening, and tears welling up in her eyes. “How can we ever possibly be good enough?”

“Come with me, your highness,” Glass Eye said. “I’ve something to show you that you might find illuminating.”

Aurora rose to her hooves and followed him. He led her from the throne room and down, down a flight of steps leading to a long, high-vaulted hall. The floor was gray-and-white checkered stone, and a thin, luxuriant red rug stretched across it from the entrance to the towering gilded doorway at the far end, which Aurora recognized as the safe where the Elements of Harmony were kept when not in use. Daylight streamed into the room through the elegant stained-glass windows that lined both walls, windows depicting notable events in Equestrian history. It was a famous part of the Canterlot Palace and a popular tourist attraction, but Aurora failed to see what bearing it had on her situation. Glass Eye led her to one of the last windows on the hall and looked up at it, waiting for her to do the same.

The princess directed her gaze at the window. The gorgeous glasswork illustrated a scene that, by now, nearly every citizen of Equestria had permanently etched into their memory. Two alicorns, one white and one dark blue, stood shining against a nighttime sky, hovering high over the emerald earth below. Above them, a white arrow fell from the heavens with brilliant sparks flying in its wake. Bolts of gold and silver lightning arced from the two alicorns, forming a multicolor magical barrier between the earth and the arrow. It was a beautiful window, perhaps the most magnificent work of art on the entire hall, but at the sight of it a heavy silence fell on Aurora, and she looked away; the weight of remembering was too great for her heart to bear.

Glass Eye broke the silence. “They never gave in,” he said solemnly. “Not even when they had utterly exhausted their own power. Not until they were certain that Equestria was safe.”

“This is what you wanted to show me?” Aurora snapped, a bit more harshly than she had intended. “This… this is just another part of their legacy I can never live up to. Another shadow I’ll always be living under. I don’t have their kind of power.”

“Princess Celestia and Princess Luna were indeed powerful,” he explained, “but that is not why we honor them here, and it was never the reason they were so beloved. I served as Princess Celestia’s chief advisor for many years, through many trials and disasters and rough patches, through times of doubt and weakness and hardship. But the one thing that never wavered – the one thing on which we ponies could always rely – was her love for Equestria. She and her sister both loved their subjects more dearly than their own lives. The fact that we are alive today, able to look at this beautiful window and share in this conversation, is proof of that.”

Aurora looked at the window again. Her eyes traced carefully over the shape of the white alicorn – Princess Celestia, her shining ideal, her role model since foalhood, her hero. There was a long pause before Glass Eye spoke again.

“I know you worry about living up to Princess Celestia’s legacy,” he continued, “but it is my belief that you have nothing to fear. Their legacy was not one of power or knowledge, but of love. That is a legacy you are just as capable of building as the princesses who came before you – magic or no magic, training or no training, Stargazer or no Stargazer. It is not something one can learn at university or acquire through hard work, but it is the most important quality expected of an Equestrian princess.” He glanced down the hall, indicating the huge double doors that sealed the Elements of Harmony. “And I believe you’ve already been given the tools you need to build such a legacy.”

Aurora turned to look at the doors as well. Six gemstones were set into the golden frame, each one representing an Element: Loyalty, Generosity, Laughter, Kindness, Honesty, Magic. She could feel the Elements’ power radiate through the heavy archway, even from this distance – and she knew that their power lived as much in her own heart at it did in the artifacts themselves.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “Thank you, Glass Eye. That was quite illuminating.”

“Of course,” he said, slipping back into his prim and proper butler-ish tone, “that’s not to say the study of magic is not important, your highness. On the contrary, it is quite vital. I do hope that you take advantage of these days of rest to devote some time to your studies.”

“Of course,” Aurora agreed, smiling. It gave her comfort to know that Glass Eye was still as stringent as he was wise. She resolved to heed his advice: the next time she went to train with Stargazer, she would be ready to surprise him. But for the time being, she felt she could finally relax. It had done her a world of good being reminded what was really important.

Author's Note

Click here for Valkyrie-Girl's illustrations of Glass Eye, the Holly Sisters, Lord Stargazer, and a number of other characters.

8: Somnambula

Summer Sun loved animals, but she never owned a pet. She was mostly content to look after the woodland creatures that once in a while came wandering out of the forest, offering them food and playing with the gentler ones – rabbits and chipmunks, squirrels and moles, anything cute and cuddly that wouldn’t try to bite her. But by far Summer’s favorites were the three young red-breasted robins that nested in a small crabapple tree at the edge of their backyard – the very same birds that she had accidentally knocked out of their nest while catching butterflies earlier that year.

With the help of her parents and her sister, Summer had erected a bird feeder near the center of the crabapple grove, and took it upon herself as a personal duty to keep it filled. She saw the birds often, usually at least once a day, sometimes dragging her sister along with her. But Blue was happy to oblige; she was rather fond of the robins herself, but she was happier still to see that Summer had found something to do with her time that brought her so much joy.

The birds had grown up quite a bit since their minor misadventure in the spring. Their wings had lengthened, their mottled brown feathers now streaked with gray. On cool blue days when the wind was right they would leap from their nest, flapping and fluttering for all they were worth, sometimes crashing harmlessly into the grass below but always rising to try again. Gradually they were learning to fly on their own, for soon they would need to.

One late autumn afternoon, Summer and Blue arrived to refill the bird feeder (squirrels had started getting into it as the season wore on, so it needed to be refilled more and more frequently). Summer eyed the nest – the birds stood at its edge, proudly puffing out their orange-tufted chests and fitting their wings as if preparing to take to the skies. A flock of geese passed overhead as she sat watching, and the three robins seemed to gaze after them with longing in their little black eyes. This made Summer think.

“Hey, Blue?” she said. “I was just wondering – why haven’t they flown south yet, with the other birds? Shouldn’t they have left by now?”

“I guess they just like it here,” Blue offered. “Or maybe they aren’t ready to fly by themselves.” A shadow of worry crossed her face. “I hope it’s not that – they need to go south for the winter soon, and they won’t get far if they can’t fly.”

“I wish they didn’t have to go,” Summer . “I mean, if they like it here, why can’t they stay? We can take care of them!”

“Maybe we could,” said Blue. “But that’s not what’s best for them, Summer. I like them too, but I hope they leave. They’ll be happier in the south than they would be here. It’s just too cold.”

The robins looked down at the fillies, eyeing Summer with special affection. They tweeted happily to see their friend and caretaker again, but that sad longing for the south hadn’t left their eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Summer said to them. “But… but if that’s what you have to do….”

Before she could say any more, the robins leapt from the nest in unison, winging their way through the gnarled, twisted branches and into the cold air. For a moment they hovered overhead, singing a sweet, thin little song together before vanishing above the treetops and into the gray autumn sky.

“Wow,” said Blue. “I guess they can fly after all.”

The next day the fillies returned to the grove to find the nest empty. Summer was saddened to bid her friends farewell, but there was a kind of joy mingled with her melancholy; wherever they were, she was sure they were happy.

When Stargazer had suggested that Corona help Ghost get “settled in,” Corona had taken this to mean giving the little changeling a tour of the palace. She had started with the royal bedrooms, moved down to the kitchen (where she indulged in a small snack), made quick stops by the library and the armory, and finally ended up outside in the palace gardens. Ghost had been mindful enough to resume her owl disguise, which drew a few strange glances from passing guards and officials but otherwise attracted little attention. Corona trotted with a spring in her step, beaming brightly and enjoying the sun and the fresh air, and Ghost bounced happily along perched on her back

The gardens were especially lively at this time of year, and the great hedgerow maze was the liveliest part of all. Flowering vines crept all over the perfectly-cut hedge walls, dashing the green shrubbery with bright spots of yellow, purple, and white. The maze was one of Corona’s favorite places in Canterlot, partly for the flowers, but mostly for the butterflies that congregated around the blossoming flora. It made her think of home.

Fluttering haphazardly by the hedges amidst the butterflies was a young pegasus mare, snipping away at the foliage with a pair of hedge clippers. Corona recognized her on sight by her purple-splotched white coat and red mane. “Hey, Labyrinthia!” she called out. “What’s up?”

“Oh! Uh, hey there, your highness!” The pegasus set down the hedge clippers and waved. Then she winged her way, a little clumsily, over to the princess and landed with a courteous bow. “Just workin’ on the hedges, y’know? Gets kinda tricky around this time of the year, with all the flowers blooming and all. But I finally finished fixing the maze. Oh, hey, what’s that?” The owl atop Corona’s back had caught her attention. She trained her wall-eyed gaze on the bird as best she could; her two eyes, one blue and one purple, refused to point in the same direction.

“This is my new friend!” Corona said. “I call him Ghost. We found him in the Everfree Forest. And Ghost? This is Labyrinthia, royal maze-keeper extraordinaire!”

“Aw, Princess,” Labyrinthia smiled bashfully, rubbing the back of her neck with a hoof. “I don’t know if I’d say that….”

“Well, I sure would.” Corona gave the pegasus a friendly pat on the shoulder. Labyrinthia was one of the first ponies to befriend her when she came to live in Canterlot some months ago. The two had bonded over their shared fondness for the gardens. Though she was by all accounts a very nice pony, and very good at her job, not many others among the palace staff had the patience to put up with Labyrinthia’s clumsiness. As such, Corona’s friendship meant a great deal to her.

“…so I’m just letting little Ghost here have a look around,” Corona finished explaining. “He’s gonna be staying here for a while, probably.”

“Wow,” said the pegasus. “That’s really, really cool, Princess. Are you gonna take him through the maze?”

“Yep! That’s the last stop on our tour. Thanks for working so hard on it. You did say it’s finished, right?”

“Yes ma’am, your highness, ma’am!” Labyrinthia saluted with a hoof. “I fixed that, um… that bad spot out in the middle. You can get through now.” A small hint of shame crept into her voice, and she mumbled, “I’m sorry about last time.” A little over a week ago she had been assigned to redesign the maze and had inadvertently made it unsolvable halfway through, where the correct path led to an insurmountable hedge-wall. She looked at the ground and sighed sadly as she thought back on her mistake. “I just don’t know what went wrong….”

“It’s okay!” Corona assured her, smiling cheerfully as though it didn’t matter at all. “It was just an accident. I mean, everpony makes mistakes sometimes, right? Even at the things they’re best at. It’s no big deal.”

Labyrinthia smiled. “Thanks, your highness.” With that, she led the princess and her new friend to the maze entrance and wished them luck, though she added that she hoped they wouldn’t need it.

The maze, Corona reflected as she meandered along, was at once like and completely unlike the Everfree Forest. The high hedgerows towered over her like the forest’s ancient trees, but they were so alive with color, with the cheery song of birds and the vibrant dance of butterfly wings, that they seemed welcoming rather than intimidating. Here and there throughout the labyrinth were tunnels of overgrowth where long vines clung together overhead like the forest’s canopy, but in the bright daylight the close growth made Corona feel cozy instead of claustrophobic. If the Everfree was nature’s dank cellar, the maze was its party room.

The labyrinth proved to be challenging, but not frustrating. Labyrinthia hadn’t altered it too much, so many of the twists and turns were familiar to Corona from the last time she had attempted to find her way through. Ghost seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself as well; from time to time she would fly down from the princess’s back to get a closer look at some plant or chase after an insect that caught her eye. Corona would follow along, explaining everything she knew about this particular flower or that particular species of beetle. There seemed to be nothing that didn’t excite Ghost’s curiosity.

“You’ve never seen anything like this before, have you?” Corona finally asked. “Not while you were living in that spooky old ghost town next to that murky old swamp. This place must be like a whole new world for you, right?”

Ghost nodded slowly, her owl-eyes full of awe and wonder.

“It’s okay,” said Corona. “I kind of know how you feel. Blue and I felt that way too when we came to live in Canterlot. But it’s a really homey kind of place once you get used to it. C’mon, we’re almost halfway through, and there’s plenty more cool stuff for you to see!”

Ghost smiled, as much as an owl can smile, and on they went.

By and by they reached the halfway point of the maze. It was here that Labyrinthia had clearly done the most new work; Corona didn’t recognize any of it at all. There were spiraling dead ends and baffling four-way intersections, though with some trial and error they managed to find their way. The sun princess was not as clever a navigator as her sister, but she had learned a few things from Aurora over the years; for instance, she knew how to determine her direction from the position of the sun in the sky, which proved useful when they got badly turned-around in a wide spiral.

Eventually they came to a T-shaped fork, with alternate routes going left and right. As Corona stopped to think, the faint sound of approaching hoofsteps came echoing from around the corner to the left. Somepony was coming.

Before Corona could speak, Ghost started to sniff the air, in the manner of a dog that had caught some familiar scent on the wind. Then she started to tremble, whimpering uneasily, as if she recognized the scent as something evil and foreboding. She hopped to the ground and hid behind the princess’s forelegs, still shivering.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Corona asked her, deep concern in her voice. When Ghost refused to answer, she looked back up at the paths ahead. The hoofsteps were growing louder, nearer, as their mysterious source came closer and closer to rounding the bend. “Is somepony out there?” the princess called out nervously. “Who-who’s there?”

At last a pony stepped around the corner. She was a tall unicorn, much like Lord Stargazer, with a dark blue mane and a coat that was nearly white – a bit duller than Aurora’s, perhaps a tad grayish, and the Cutie Mark on her flank resembled a pink-and-purple compass point with a black swirl at the center. The green scarf around her neck indicated that she was from the Arcane University, and the small pair of glasses perched neatly on her snout gave her a scholarly appearance. She looked harmless enough, even friendly, but something about her seemed to make Ghost terribly uneasy.

“Oh! Good afternoon, your highness,” said the unicorn. “I’m sorry if I startled you. I just haven’t had the chance to wander this maze in years – when I got here and saw that the gardens were open again I just couldn’t resist. A maze is such a pleasant intellectual challenge, don’t you agree? I’ve certainly always thought so. Oh, I use to spend so much time among these hedges, back when I was a student….” Her light pink eyes began to glaze over with memories, but quickly she snapped out of it. “Yes, sorry. Just reminiscing, your highness.”

“Who… who are you?” Corona asked. “I haven’t seen you around before, and I know almost everypony in the palace. Are you from the university?”

“Oh! Oh dear, I just realized I forgot to introduce myself.” The unicorn bowed. “My name is Professor Somnambula, from the Arcane University. I’m here to help.”

“Um… thanks.” Corona eyed her half-suspiciously, still unnerved by Ghost’s fearful reaction. Still, for the moment there seemed to be no reason not to trust her. “Right, they told us you were coming. But I thought you wouldn’t be here for at least an hour….”

“Well, yes,” said Somnambula, “ordinarily I’m still teaching a history class at this time, but I released my students a wee bit early today. It’s such a wonderful afternoon, and I’m sure they were all bored with hearing me lecture. We were covering the last two centuries of the Pre-Sparkle Period today, and not even I could sit through a lecture about that uneventful age.” She laughed. Then the little owl hiding behind Corona’s forelegs caught her eyes. “Ah, I see you’ve brought your new friend with you.”

Ghost looked up at her in fear. “Hey, don’t worry,” the professor said comfortingly. “You needn’t be afraid of me. It’s all right, I know who you are. I won’t hurt you.”

The unicorn’s horn began to glow a purplish-pink while bands of similarly-colored light formed around the stocky little owl. Suddenly they began to swirl and glow brighter, and Ghost’s disguise came unraveled like a roll of fabric, spinning away in streamers of magical light. In moments the light had died down, and Ghost lay there in changeling form with her stomach to the ground and her forelegs folded protectively over her head. Being revealed in such a way only made her even more fearful, but Somnambula’s pleasant demeanor made it clear that she intended no harm.

“Ah! Just as I was told. She’s clearly emaciated, though it looks like she’s slowly getting her strength back. Oh my, I hope I haven’t frightened her too badly. Sometimes changelings get that way around powerful unicorns, you know. It has to do with our magical auras, you see, and the way changelings, as a magnivorous species, are subject to more powerful extrasensory – ”

“Um – excuse me, professor?” Corona interjected. “Maybe we’d better get back to the palace. My sister’ll probably wanna know you’re here now….” She turned to look back at the endless maze of hedgerows behind her. It would be quite a long walk back through the labyrinth, she realized, and Ghost still didn’t look up to walking that distance. Then Somnambula spoke up, having noticed the worry on the princess’s face.

“Oh, wait! Hold on a moment if you please, Princess. If you and our little friend could just hold still for a moment…” Her horn began to glow again, and purple-pink bands of light, much larger than the ones before, formed around the trio in a wide circle. Once again they swirled and spun, building up to a tremendous flash – and an instant later, when the light had died down, Corona found herself, Ghost, and Somnambula standing at the back entrance to the palace, well outside of the labyrinth.

“Wow,” said Corona, greatly impressed. “You’re really good at teleporting.”

“Thank you, your highness.” Somnambula’s face flushed a tiny bit at the praise. “It’s just a matter of keeping one’s magi-cognitive matrix aligned with the spatial… oh dear, I’m rambling again, aren’t I? Please do excuse me. As you said, I’m sure Princes Aurora will want to see me as soon as possible.” Turning, she trotted lightly through the gate, looking around with wide eyes full of nostalgia and talking (mostly to herself) about her fond memories of the place. She seemed to have quite a few.

“C’mon, Ghost,” Corona prodded her changeling friend, who was still lying on the ground in fear. “We have to go. Professor Somnambula’s gonna help us figure out how to take care of you. Please?”

The little changeling stirred and looked up at Corona, her anxious, pleading eyes showing through the tangled, stringy mess of her mane. “Please,” she squeaked. “No hurt. Please.”

“What are you talking about? Nopony’s gonna hurt you. It’s okay, I’ll take care of you. Now c’mon.”

At last Ghost rose tepidly, assuming her owl disguise again, and hopped onto the princess’s back. Satisfied, Corona quickened her pace to catch up with Somnambula. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly off. Ghost’s frightened pleading continued to echo in her mind even as the professor continued to reminisce, and an old familiar knot of worry began to form in her stomach. She did her best to soothe it with thoughts of her sister, assuring herself that Aurora would solve whatever problems arose, as she always did. It helped a little.

When they arrived at the throne room, Princess Aurora and Glass Eye were there, apparently deep in a conversation of their own. Glass Eye lit up visibly at the sight of his granddaughter, and before either princess had a chance to say anything Somnambula rushed over to him and wrapped her forelegs around his neck in a tender, wordless hug. Though she was taller than her grandfather, she suddenly seemed much younger and smaller than before, like a foal in his embrace. After a moment had passed they separated.

“My dear Somnambula,” he greeted her. “It’s so good to see you again. I haven’t heard from you in such a long time….”

“Sorry, Grandfather. I’ve just been so very busy – I’ve had to devise the new history course, archive all of my field research, work with the medical department on the – Oh!” Suddenly she stopped herself short, remembering who else was in the room with her. “I’m sorry, your highnesses. I have a tendency to ramble.” She bowed her head to Aurora. “I was told you had need of an expert on changelings. I suppose you’d like to get down to business, as it were?”

“I would,” Aurora answered, nodding. “It’s important that we get this resolved right away. There are many ponies in Ponyville who need help as quickly as possible.”

“Yes, well,” Somnambula said, clearing her throat and slipping into a more professional tone, “it goes without saying that helping those afflicted by the drain is our top priority. Fortunately, the cure I’ve developed is just about ready to be administered.”

“Um… what exactly is it?” Corona piped up. “The cure, I mean. How’s it work?”

“Oh, I’m afraid it’s all very technical,” Somnambula apologized. “Neurotransmitter enchantments, Starswirl’s Law, psychic regeneration, dreadful jargon like that – it wouldn’t make a two bit’s worth of sense to anyone who hasn’t spent years studying emotional magic.”

“It’s fine, professor,” said Aurora. “As long as it works.”

Their discussion continued for several dull minutes, and Corona sat down tiredly and listened while Aurora, seemingly content, led them from subject to subject – the state of the Ponyville patients, the means of delivering the cure, and so on. By now Ghost had dropped her disguise again, safe to do so in the relative privacy of the throne room; maintaining an assumed form for any length of time could be tiresome even for a well-fed changeling, and the constant form-changing had clearly taken a toll on her stamina. Even so, Ghost seemed unusually uncomfortable, shifting about uncomfortably and pacing in small, nervous circles until Corona simply pulled her close with a foreleg to keep her still. Being held seemed to calm her down a little, though she continued to squirm whenever the taller ponies – particularly Somnambula – glanced down at her.

“Well, if that’s decided,” Glass Eye said eventually, “I suppose that just leaves the matter of what to do with Princess Corona’s new friend….”

“She’s got to go home, you know,” Aurora said evenly. “We can’t keep her here.”

Somnambula nodded in agreement. “Princess Aurora is right, I’m afraid. It really isn’t healthy for changelings to live among ponies – for the changeling, or for the ponies she’s living with.”

“What?” Corona cried in protest, protectively pulling Ghost into a tighter embrace. “But… but I can take care of her! I promise she won’t be any trouble!”

“We can’t keep her hidden forever,” Aurora asserted. “Sooner or later somepony would find her out. Summer, I’ve done my research about current politics. Our relations with the swarms are still… still complicated. Nopony would accept a rogue changeling living in the royal palace.”

“And it’s not just that, your highness,” added Somnambula. “Changelings can be taught to willingly reciprocate love and live peacefully with other races – that’s Silvermist’s Principle of Reciprocation, of course, and it’s half the reason the changeling swarms aren’t a threat anymore – but they learn best from others of their own kind. A lonely little changeling like her wouldn’t have a happy life here if we can’t keep her properly fed.”

The professor looked down at Ghost with kindly eyes and a gentle smile. “I know you’re probably scared right now,” she said softly, as if speaking to a frightened child. “But I promise I can find your real home again. Just give me a chance.”
Aurora eyed her curiously. “How do you mean to do that?”

“A pony doesn’t perform a three-month field study of changeling swarms without learning how to track them,” Somnambula explained proudly. “If you and Princess Corona could show me where little Ghost was living when you found her, I ought to be able to figure out where the rest of her swarm flew off to. There are signs I could look for – shed skins, habitation remnants, even magical impressions in the air and the soil. It would be no trouble at all, I assure you.”

“That sounds splendid,” said Glass Eye. He turned to Aurora. “What do you think, Princess? Shall we proceed?”

“We can’t!” Corona cried. “I – we – but Ghost was gonna stay here with me! She likes it here! I gave her the tour and everything! And she’s just finally started to trust me, too. Blue, please – we can’t send her back!”

“Summer, we have no choice!” Aurora snapped, then quickly regained her composure. Turning, she walked a short distance from the two unicorns and motioned for Corona to follow for a private conversation. When her sister reached her side, she spoke again in a low, harsh whisper. “Summer, we’ve been over this already. We can’t risk somepony finding out that we’re harboring a changeling in our own home. There are plenty of nobles who already doesn’t trust us, who want to discredit us any way they can – if something like this got out, they might go so far as to call it an act of treason. We’ve got to send her back.”

Corona tried to stammer out an argument, but found that she had nothing to say in her defense. Aurora was right, like it or not. “I’m sorry, Blue,” she whispered, hanging her head morosely in defeat. “I’m just worried about Ghost, y’know? I mean, when we found her she was all alone and starving. What’ll happen to her if we don’t take care of her?”

Aurora sighed wearily, but sat down by Corona’s side and draped a comforting foreleg around her. “She’ll be all right. Professor Somnambula is right – she’ll have a better life with her own kind than we can give her here.”

“But her swarm just left her behind! What if they don’t want her back?”

“Then we’ll find another swarm that does want her. Sis, I’m sorry. I know she means a lot to you, but… but this is kind of decision we have to make as leaders. We have to do what’s best for our people, not what makes us happy. Ghost will be better off with other changelings, we’ll be better off without having to worry about her, and Equestria will be better off with rulers who aren’t busy trying to look after one little changeling.”

Slowly, sadly, Corona nodded agreement. Her sister’s words rang true, and as much as they made her heart sink she knew she couldn’t argue with them. “Well… can I at least have some time to say goodbye to her? Can we wait until tonight to take her back?”

Aurora smiled. “Sure, Summer. That sounds fine.”

Together, the sisters returned to wrap up the discussion. “Here’s what we’ll do,” Aurora announced, filling her voice with authority. “This evening, we’ll take the train back to Ponyville to deliver the cure, and to search for the changeling’s swarm. Professor, can you be ready by then?”

“Certainly. I’ll just head back to the university, start gathering my things. If you’ll excuse me, your highness….” With the princess’s nod of approval, she excused herself from the room. Corona couldn’t help but notice that Ghost seemed to relax a great deal as soon as she was gone, ceasing her uncomfortable squirming.

“Now,” Aurora continued, turning to her advisor. “Glass Eye, see to it that our train is ready to leave just before sundown. In the mean time, if it’s all right with you, I’ll be getting some rest. If I’m going to be up late again tonight, I’d like to be at my sharpest.” She began to make for the door herself, stopping for a moment to turn back to her sister. “Hey, Summer – do you want to join me? You could probably use some sleep, too.”

“Oh. Um… no thanks, sis.” Corona sat down and wrapped a warm foreleg around her changeling friend. “I just wanna spend some time with Ghost. If that’s okay.”

“Of course. I understand.” She offered Corona a sad, sympathetic smile – it was all she could do, really – and vanished through the door.

“Excellent, excellent,” said Glass Eye. “I’m so very glad we were able to resolve this dilemma. Now if you’ll excuse me as well, I’ll make the arrangements with the train station.”

“Hey, Glass Eye?” Corona called, catching him before he could get far. “Listen, I… well, um… how do I put this? Is there… I mean, do you know of anything… weird… about Somnambula?”

“I beg your pardon, your highness?” His tone was not disrespectful; he sounded genuinely confused. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Ghost didn’t like her. She seemed really scared of her for some reason. Professor Somnambula said it was because changelings sometimes react that way to powerful unicorns, but Ghost never had any problems around you, or Tally Mark, or Lord Stargazer. I mean, I was just wondering... you don’t know if anything’s up?”

“Princess Corona, I assure you,” Glass Eye sputtered, “There’s absolutely nothing sinister about my granddaughter. I know her better than anypony, and if there were any reason to be afraid of her, I would most certainly be aware of it.”

“Well… okay,” Corona said dejectedly. “Sorry. Just wondering.”

“You needn’t apologize, your highness. I understand your concerns, though I can promise you that they are entirely unnecessary.” He paused for a moment in thought, as if pondering his words to make certain that they were altogether true. “Actually,” he began after a moment, “I suppose it is possible that her Ghost’s fear of Somnambula might have some rational basis. It is possible that they have met before.”

Now this made Corona curious. “Met before? How?”

“You may recall,” Glass Eye explained, “how Somnambula mentioned that she once performed a lengthy field study of changelings. It was… oh, about two years ago now. She spent three months in the wild on the trail of a small nomadic swarm that had been sighted here and there across Equestria. At one point her travels led her through the far northerly stretches of the Everfree Forest – perhaps there she encountered the swarm to which your changeling friend belonged.”

“Two years ago...” Corona echoed. “That’s right about when the ponies in Ponyville started seeing Nightmare Moon, isn’t it?” She looked down at the little changeling. “Was that your family, Ghost? Was that when you got lost? You must’ve been really little back then, huh?”

Ghost made no reply. She simply snuggled up against Corona’s side, murmuring incoherently.

“Well,” said Glass Eye, clearing his throat, “at any rate, it seems the most likely explanation. Young Ghost was traveling together with her swarm when they crossed paths with a strange unicorn. Ghost became frightened and separated from her fellow changelings in the commotion, and was consequently left behind in the forest with unpleasant memories of the pony who caused it all.”

“Yeah… I guess that makes sense.” She didn’t like it, and she still wasn’t wholly convinced, but for the moment there seemed to be nothing else she could do but go along with it.

“Indeed,” Glass Eye agreed. “Well, as I said earlier, I must make arrangements for transport to Ponyville. If you’ll excuse me, your highness….” With that, he left the throne room, leaving the princess alone with the changeling at last.

Corona stood up, heaving a sad and heavy sigh as she did so. “C’mon Ghost,” she said, filling her voice with as much artificial cheer as she could muster. “Let’s go finish the maze, okay? I did say there’s still plenty of cool stuff for you to see. C’mon, let’s go!” Ghost rose, assuming her owl disguise one last time, and the princess led her from the room in the hopes that the dancing butterflies and flower-dotted hedgerows might raise their spirits again, even if only a little. If this was to be their last day together, Corona wanted it to be a happy one.

Author's Note

Click here for Valkyrie-Girl's illustration of Labyrinthia, and here for her picture of Somnambula with her two sisters.

9: Gathering Storm

Aside from Whirlwind, Blue Moon and Summer Sun didn’t have many close friends growing up. This didn’t bother them terribly – they always had each other, after all – but there were times when Blue seemed almost reclusive, and that worried Summer. The golden-maned filly was always the livelier and more outgoing of the two, always eager to introduce herself even if she didn’t form many lasting friendships, and at times it pained her to see her sister languishing in solitude; it seemed to her that Blue was really missing out.

Blue, for her part, was mostly content. The other foals she met at school always greeted her with kind, smiling faces, and though they rarely shared anything beyond that, she wasn’t bothered. She was solitary by nature, detached and terminally bookish, often seeming rather more grown-up than she really was. At any rate, she was usually perfectly happy to maintain her relationships with Summer and Whirlwind and leave it at that. Still, there was one area of her life where she wished she didn’t feel so alone: dealing with Picture Perfect.

Picture’s torment had grown fiercer and fiercer as the months passed. She threw everything she had at her: verbal taunts and jeers, “accidental” bumps and jostles that left Blue sprawled across the dirt or knee-deep in a mud puddle, even stealthily swiping her homework and causing Blue’s grades to suffer. Whirlwind and Summer were always quick to leap to Blue’s defense, but the damage, more often than not, had already been done. As the school year drew toward a close, it was becoming clearer and clearer that Picture’s prolonged abuse was finally starting to wear her victim down.

It was late in the year when things finally took a different turn. Winter was in full swing now, and the trees all stood bare and dark against the gray afternoon sky. Summer had gone home from school early, complaining of a stomachache (which was probably her own fault; their mother had packed each sister a cupcake for desert at lunchtime, and when Blue said she wasn’t very hungry Summer had happily eaten them both). She was sitting restlessly on their front porch, waiting for her sister to come home, when she caught sight of Blue trudging solemnly down the dirt lane that led to their house. As she drew closer, Summer saw that her sister’s head was hung low and her slow hoofsteps dragged through the dirt, as though a heavy weight were chained to each leg. She could tell by Blue’s expression alone that Picture Perfect was to blame; it was an expression she had gotten used to seeing day after day.

Forlornly, Blue climbed the porch steps and slumped heavily next to her sister. Her midnight-black mane fell obscuringly over her face, hiding her downcast eyes.

“Blue, why do you keep letting her do this?” There was something akin to anger in Summer’s voice. “Doesn’t it make you mad?”

“Of course it makes me mad!” Blue snapped, startling her sister. Days, weeks, months of unexpressed anger suddenly came boiling up all at once. “She thinks she’s so much better than everypony – and – and she’s not! But she just HAS to prove she’s the best, and she HAS to make everypony else feel like dirt to do it. She only picks on me because it’s her way of showing off. I can’t stand it!”

“But – then we oughta do something about it!” Summer exclaimed. “We could tell Mom and Dad, or get the other foals to gang up on her, or, or – or something!”

“No – no,” Blue insisted, shaking her head as her temper began to cool. She almost seemed ashamed to have lost her composure. “She’ll have to stop eventually. I’ve just got to learn how to ignore her, and sooner or later she’ll give up trying to make me mad.” She spoke robotically, as though she didn’t much believe her own words. It was just her way, her solitary way, of dealing with a problem, and nothing could dissuade her from it. “Just… just gotta ignore her, and keep going….” As her voice trailed off, she stood up and slunk sadly into the house. A moment later, the screen door banged shut behind her, leaving a disconcerted Summer sitting by herself on the porch.

The instant Blue had gone, a hard, resolute expression etched itself across Summer’s normally good-humored face as a plan hatched in her mind. She knew exactly what she was going to do. She would show Blue how to handle a bully. And she would do it all by herself.

Though Aurora had planned to take a nap that afternoon, she found her mind growing restless by the time she returned to her room. On the way to the high tower she had passed Lantern Jaw in the hallway, on his way from one guard shift to another. She was pleased to be able to deliver him some good news – that the source of the Nightmare Moon rumors had been identified, and a way had been found to help his ailing father.

At this news Lantern Jaw smiled. It was almost a startling sight; normally his face was so cold and stony that even the slightest flicker of warmth made him look like a different stallion altogether. “That’s wonderful, your highness,” he said in an uncharacteristically cheerful voice. Clearly his father was very dear to him. “But, er… you wouldn’t happened to have found the missing foals, would you?”

“Oh… no, I’m sorry,” Aurora answered. “The two issues apparently weren’t related. The council is organizing its own investigation, but we didn’t turn up anything about that.”

“Oh.” For just an instant, Lantern Jaw’s face fell. He quickly recovered his stoic expression, ashamed to have let it down in the first place, but it was too late – Aurora had seen his disappointment. She eyed him curiously, as if asking him to speak his mind, but he only muttered, “My apologies, your highness. It’s nothing important.”

The princess grimaced in her mind. There were times she hated the air of authority she had to carry as a ruler; it made ponies so uptight, so reticent. She lowered her voice and gave him a friendly smile. “Lantern Jaw, you can talk to me. Anything that concerns my subjects is important. What’s on your mind?”

It took him a moment to reply. “Well… you see, your highness… my younger brother is one of the missing foals. I had hoped that he’d be found before father woke up, but….” He trailed off. Speaking his thoughts so freely obviously made him uncomfortable. Sensing this, Aurora reached out and put a gentle hoof on his shoulder. He stiffened at her touch, but said nothing as she looked him squarely in the eye.

“He will be found,” Aurora told him firmly. “Something will be done. I promise you that.”

He smiled timidly. “Thank you, Princess.” With that, the guard and the princess parted.

Something will be done…. Those words continued to weigh on Aurora’s mind even as she returned to her bedchamber. With a heavy sigh she threw herself across her wide round bed, resting not-quite-comfortably on her side. Thoughts swirled around her head in a dizzying jumble – Stargazer’s abuse, Somnambula’s plan, Ghost’s whimpering, Corona’s worries, her own promise to Lantern Jaw – it was a lot to take in for one afternoon. Frustrated, she rose and made for her balcony, hoping that the fresh air beautiful view might put her in an easier state of mind.

The view was indeed beautiful, she reflected as she stepped onto the balcony. Looking west down from the mountains, she could see the mighty Neighagra River, sparkling in the afternoon sun, flowing through wide green fields and lush woodlands, interrupted every so often by quaint stone bridges or tall railway trestles. At the far edge of her sight she could just make out the dark green line of the Everfree Forest and the grim gray Drackenridge Mountains beyond. In the sky above the woods, tall white clouds piled up menacingly, brooding and growing darker in preparation for a storm. Given the wild weather patterns in that region, there was no telling when the clouds might burst – perhaps within the next few hours.

Aurora returned to her room. The view wasn’t helping at all.

For a long time she law resting atop her bed in a troubled semi-sleep, turning over and over in discomfort as vague, unpleasant dreams swam through her mind – frightened shouts, flashes of lighting, bad memories both old and recent. A gloomy shadow lay over her as if a storm were gathering at the edge of her consciousness, looming and threatening. But eventually the storm seemed to pass, and her mind drifted into calmer and more restful places.

She was awoken some hours later by a knock at the door. Before Aurora could so much as raise her head, Corona stepped inside, not even bothering to wait for an answer. “Hey Blue,” the sun princess offered in greeting. “Sorry to bother you.” Though she wore a pleasant smile, Corona’s voice was completely drained of its usual cheer. The now-familiar owl perched on her back didn’t look any happier than she did.

“It’s no problem,” Aurora assured her, sitting up. “Not bothered at all. What’s on your mind?”

“I dunno. Everything, really.” Corona sighed tiredly, making her way to Aurora’s bedside. Once there, her changeling friend hopped down onto the bed in a brief flutter of feathers. One swirling flash of green light later, and the owl was gone, and a thin black insectoid creature had taken its place. Ghost panted, wearied from these constant transformations, and lay down on her stomach to rest. Aurora was surprised a moment later when the tired little changeling spoke.

“Mm… tried. Wanna sleep.” Her words came in soft, scratchy squeaks, but her elocution was clear and precise. In a moment her emerald eyes fell shut and she began to snore softly.

“Wow,” said Aurora. “She sure is picking up speech quickly.”

Corona nodded. “I think she already knew how to talk, but she lived by herself for so long she just kinda forgot. She doesn’t say much, though. Maybe she’s still too afraid.”

“You’re worried about her, aren’t you?” Aurora asked perceptively.

“A little,” Corona admitted. “A lot, actually. I mean, I want her to be happy, but…. I just don’t know about this.”

“Summer, I promise you that this is for the best. Somnambula knows what’s she’s talking about. She wouldn’t insist on taking her home if there were any doubt that she’d be happier there.”

“Well – actually, Blue, about Professor Somnambula….”

“Yes?”

“I… do you think we can trust her?”

“Trust her?” Aurora echoed in surprise. “Summer, what are you talking about?”

“Well… Ghost doesn’t like her. I mean, she really doesn’t like her. Right from the second we bumped into her, Ghost just started trembling and wouldn’t even look up. Somnambula said it was because changelings sometimes get scared of powerful unicorns, but Glass Eye said something different, and… I dunno, Blue. Something doesn’t seem right.”

“It doesn’t sound to me like there’s anything to – ”

“Oh! That reminds me,” Corona interjected, suddenly remembering another point. “You know how Glass Eye said he hadn’t seen Somnambula in a really long time? She says it’s ‘cause she’s been so busy working, but nopony at all knows what she’s up to – not even any of the other professors. I talked to Glass Eye again and he said that none of her friends know what she’s up to half the time.”

“Summer, I don’t think – ”

“And that’s not all, either! Don’t you think it’s really weird that she finished working on her cure for changeling sickness right when we needed it? I mean, Lord Stargazer said she’d been working on it for years, but it just seems really – ”

“Summer!” Aurora’s voice was stern, stern enough to silence her sister in an instant. Corona looked back at her, confused and expectant. The dark-maned princess heaved a gentle sigh of exasperation and softened her voice before continuing. “Summer, I understand. Believe me, I do. In the months since we came here, I’ve met all kinds of ponies – nobles, generals, diplomats – and sometimes I feel like they’re hiding things from me, that I’m not getting the whole truth, so I know what you’re feeling. But right now… right now, I think you’re just being paranoid.”

“I’m… what?” Corona was taken aback. “Blue, what’re you saying?”

“You don’t want to let go of Ghost,” Aurora explained. “So you’re noticing things that aren’t really there. Somnambula’s just a very busy pony who prefers to work alone. That’s no reason to be suspicious of her.”

“But… but what about Ghost? Why would she be so afraid of her? There must be something weird about her!”

“Ghost?” Aurora looked back down at the changeling, who by now had fallen asleep. She was snoring softly, her breath coming in gentle wheezes. It was a sweet picture, but Aurora was unmoved by it. “Ghost is just an adolescent changeling that we found in a swamp less than a day ago. Are you really going to let her inform your judgment of one of the most respected professors in Canterlot?”

“But – but – ”

“You’ve gotten attached to her, I know. But she’s just a vagrant, Summer, and until yesterday she was half-crazed and starving. Somnambula is Glass Eye’s own granddaughter. Which one are you going to trust?”

For a moment Corona didn’t speak. She glanced back and forth between Aurora and Ghost with a deepening frown as a look of tortured indecision crawled across her face. Soon her indecision gave way to shame, and she hung her head sadly. Silently, she crawled onto the bed and leaned against her sister. “I’m sorry, Blue. I just don’t know what to think anymore, about anything. I wish we didn’t have to do this. I… I wish we could just go home.”

The night princess nuzzled her back, surprised by her sudden change of mood. “I’m sorry too, Summer. But this… this is just what we have to do.”

Corona made no reply, and Aurora felt helpless. She scrabbled through her mind in search of something more comforting to say, but her efforts turned up nothing. For a minute or so she simply sat there, letting her sister rest against her as she mulled over the situation. Corona seldom complained of homesickness; she was always so optimistic, so excited for the future and for her new life, that to hear her longing for the past troubled Aurora deeply.

At length, an idea finally dawned on her. “Hey, Summer… why don’t we go home? After all this is over, I mean – after Ghost’s been taken care of. Would paying Mom and Dad a visit make you feel any better?”

“Can… can we do that?” Corona looked up to meet Aurora’s eyes, her soft voice full of tentative hope. “Do you think they’d let us?”

“Of course they would! These are our days off, after all. We can spend them however we like. I’m sure Glass Eye can make arrangements for the trip. Would you like that?”

A warm, genuine smile broke out on Corona’s face. “Sure, Blue. That sounds great.”

Aurora smiled back. “Great. I’ll talk to him about it tonight.” She glanced aside as her expression darkened just a tad. “I know I haven’t talked about it much, but… I’ve been feeling overwhelmed lately, like I’m in over my head. Just being home again, being somewhere safe and familiar… I think it would do us both a world of good.”

Corona giggled. “Well, then I’m glad you thought of it!”

“Me too, Summer,” Aurora agreed, laughing gently with her. “I’m just glad my idea makes you so glad.”

With that agreed, the sisters prepared to part ways for the afternoon. Aurora returned to bed, and found that restful sleep came much more easily than before. The thought of seeing her parents again worked wonders on her troubled mind. Before long she had drifted off entirely, feeling for the first time all week that she was truly getting the rest she needed.

Corona’s mind, on the other hand, was still a little bit troubled. After saying goodbye to her sister, she gently lifted Ghost onto her back by magic and carried her across the hall to her own bedroom. The little changeling lay down as if to sleep again the moment she set her on her bed. Corona smiled humorously down at her, suppressing a yawn of her own; the lazy afternoon air seemed to be having an effect on everyone. Her smiled faded a moment later when she remembered what was to be done with her new friend, but she tried not to let the thought affect her too much. Leaned down, she gave her friend a gentle, affectionate nuzzle on the cheek.

Two big emerald eyes flickered open, staring trustingly up at the princesses. “Can… stay?” Ghost asked with a big yawn. “I stay with you?”

Corona shook her head. “It’s… it’s gonna be okay, Ghost,” she said, her voice deeply bittersweet. “I wish I could keep you, but… it’s better this way. I promise.”

The look in Ghost’s eyes, the way the trust and hope suddenly drained out of them in an instant, broke Corona’s heart. The full reality of her situation was finally sinking into the little changeling’s sleep-addled mind. Trembling, Ghost lowered her head and covered it with her forelegs, as if cowering from some imagined threat. “Please… no. Not back to the woods. Not back to the Witch.”

“Witch?” Corona echoed in confusion. “You never said anything about a witch before. What’s up?”

“Please… must stay here….” Ghost continued her frightened pleading. Her breaths came quick and shallow, and her voice rose in pitch with every word, coming dangerously close to a terrified shriek. “The Witch… with the dark hair… and the yellow bird... she’ll take me… not again… not again!”

“Shh! Shh,” Corona shushed her gently, reaching out to stroke the poor creature’s shivering back. “It’s okay. Calm down, nopony’s gonna hurt you. It’s okay, it’s okay.”

For a few minutes she just continued to feed Ghost affection, and by and by the changeling’s panic subsided. Her breathing slowed, her trembling ceased, and at last she drifted back off into a troubled sleep. But the episode had clearly left her shaken, and even in slumber she continued to fidget uncomfortably, as if seized by a bad dream.

Corona strode to her window, deep in thought. It crossed her mind that Aurora might be right, that perhaps Ghost had simply gone mad back in those swamps, and she was afraid of nothing more than delusions and fragmented dreams. But as much as she trusted her sister, Corona didn’t feel quite sure. She shook her head, reflecting that there had been times in the past when Aurora could be terribly stubborn. She always acted with the best of intentions, but once she had an idea in her head of what was right, there was no convincing her otherwise.

Corona’s features hardened. If either of them were going to have any peace of mind about this whole affair, Corona would have to take matters into her own hooves.

“I’ll be back soon, Ghost,” she murmured softly to the sleeping changeling. Ghost’s fidgeting had subsided; her nightmare appeared to be over. Corona smiled. “Try to have pleasant dreams, okay?”

With that, she left her room, taking care to lock the door behind her, lest one of the maids accidentally discover her sleeping friend. The walk down from the tower was long and silent, but Corona kept her gazed fixed sternly ahead; she had business to attend to. Passing out of the palace gates, she made her way towards the Arcane University.

The university stood just over a mile from the royal palace, on the far west side of Canterlot. It was a huge campus, and a gorgeous one at that: wide, chalk-white walkways wound through well-trimmed emerald lawns dotted here and there with shady old oaks. Scholars and officials frequently commuted back and forth between the palace and the university, so a single long pathway had been paved from the palace grounds to school’s front gates; by taking this path Corona managed to arrive quickly and without attracting any attention. The old gatekeeper was taken aback by the princess’s sudden unscheduled visit, but he was happy to open the wrought-iron gates and allow her inside.

Unlike her sister, Corona hadn’t visited the Arcane University many times before, but she was able to find her way to the main offices without much difficulty. When she asked to speak with Professor Somnambula, the surprised staff at the registration desk pointed her across the quad to a tall, domed building of white stone – the Starswirl Center for Experimental Magic. “Her, uh… her office is there, y-your highness,” one of the registrars explained, stuttering and sweating profusely. He was clearly nervous to address a princess, so Corona gave him a disarming smile and thanked him kindly. It seemed to help. “Y-you’re welcome, Princess,” he said, smiling back cautiously as he bid her farewell.

It was still mid-afternoon as she made her way across the quad, and there was no avoiding a few small clusters of students strolling leisurely from one class to the next. They all bowed at her approach and offered polite but nervous salutations. Corona, blushing, greeted them all casually and continued on her way. Now she understood why the council had chosen to schedule their visit to Ponyville for nighttime; all the attention and reverence that ponies paid her was a little embarrassing.

After climbing the long stone stairway and entering the building, the front desk directed her to a spacious office on the second floor. Somnambula was there, standing beside a large oak desk and, perhaps a bit frantically, stuffing papers into a briefcase-saddlebag. She looked up startled to see Corona standing in her doorway. “Oh! Pardon me, your highness,” she bowed her head. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Can I help you?”

Corona stepped inside, nodding and shutting the door behind her. “I, um… I was just wondering something. Are you busy?”

“Well… yes, actually,” she said. She dashed across the room to a large safe and began to fiddling with the combination by magic. “In fact, I was getting ready to come back to the palace and pick up Ghost. I just got word that the Everfree region is going be hit with a storm tonight, so I’ll have to hurry down there before the weather gets too bad, before the wind and the rain disrupts your little friend’s old habitat.” The lock clicked, and the door of the safe swung open. “And while I’m at it, I suppose I ought to deliver this to the hospital.” From out of the safe she lifted a long glass vial, capped with a cork and filled nearly to the top with a warmly-glowing pinkish liquid.

Corona stared wide-eyed at the vial. “Is that…?”

Somanmbula smiled. “The cure, yes.” She trotted back to her bags and slipped the vial inside a small, safe compartment on the side. “I didn’t want to show up in Ponyville without it. I’m sorry I had to change plans so quickly, your highness, but weather in the Everfree is unpredictable, and if we ever want to find out where little Ghost came from then we’ll have to examine the area before – ”

“Hey, Professor?” Corona interrupted. “Would… would it be okay if I went with you?”

The unicorn was in the middle of lifting the bags onto her back when Corona spoke. She froze. “Do you mean… come with me? To the Everfree Forest?” She wasn’t quite stammering, but there was obvious tension in her voice.

“Uh, yeah,” Corona said. “I, um….” She searched her brain for a tactful way to say what she wanted to say; she didn’t want to sound too suspicious. “I’m just really worried for Ghost, you know? And she knows me, and trusts me, and I guess maybe if I were there with her, she’d feel safer. I guess.”

For a moment, just a moment, Somnambula hesitated. Behind her pink eyes her mind looked as if it were racing furiously. And in that instant Corona felt something – a lightning-flash of certainty, the unmistakable assurance that her suspicions were true, that Somnambula did indeed have something sinister in mind. But it passed a moment later when the professor spoke.

“Of course!” she exclaimed brightly as if the past few seconds hadn’t occurred. “I don’t see why not. And of course, I couldn’t say no to a princess.” She glanced at the clock on the far wall. “If we leave now, we ought to be able to pick up your little changeling friend and catch the five o’clock train to Ponyville.” As she finished hefting the saddlebags onto her back, a thoughtful look crossed her face. “I assume that Princess Aurora will be joining us as well?”

It only took Corona a second to decide. “Nah. I think I can handle this myself.”

“Ah! All right, then.” Somnambula trotted lightly and briskly towards the door, pulled it open by magic, and stepped back with a small bow of her head. “After you, Princess.”

Smiling, Corona thanked the professor and stepped out the door. For a moment, the faint image of Ghost, frightened and shivering atop her bed, flashed through her mind, but she shook her head and grinned gallantly again. There was a boldness stirring to life within her, a confidence and strength of intent. She knew exactly what she was going to do. She would find out what was really going on. She would see to Ghost’s safety, she would help save Ponyville’s ailing citizens, and she would dispel the cloud of worry that plagued her sister.

And she would do it all by herself.

10: Return to the Everfree

For most of their foalhood, Blue Moon and Summer Sun were very well-behaved. Granted, there were moments of minor mischief here and there – sneaking out after bedtime to view a meteor shower on one occasion, “borrowing” a precious keepsake from their parents on another – but nothing truly serious ever so much as entered their heads, and one sister or the other usually ended up confessing even the smallest offenses. Their parents trusted implicitly; their parents’ friends stated, time and time again, that they wished they had such polite foals; and, despite Summer’s comparatively low grades, their teacher thought of them as model students, and certainly no troublemakers. Which is why it came as a small shock to everypony when the teacher, Miss Dewdrop, called their parents to the schoolhouse to talk. Summer had been caught fighting.

The floor outside Miss Dewdrop’s office was cold and hard. Summer sat with her back hunched, her eyes boring into the floorboards while she listened to the older ponies talking quietly behind the closed door. At her side, fuming with barely-suppressed rage and indignity, sat Picture Perfect. From time to time she would glance up at Summer, scowling with all the scorn she could muster, and Summer would return her glare, stick out her tongue, and go back to staring at the floor. Then Picture would huff indignantly and turn away, sticking her nose in the air like a hoity-toity aristocrat trying to show her disdain.

This went on for about ten minutes. At last the office door opened, and out stepped Picture Perfect’s mother, an improbably gorgeous mare with the same stylish blue mane. She ignored Summer completely, and with just a stern look she ordered her daughter to come along. Picture Perfect followed, turning back one last time at the end of the hall to shoot Summer a final death glare, and was gone. Now only Summer’s parents remained in the office, continuing their conversation with Miss Dewdrop.

Soft hoofsteps echoed down the hallway. Summer looked up: Blue was treading towards her. She stopped at her sister’s side, fear and concern written all over her young face.

“Summer, Summer, Summer,” she said. “Why’d you get yourself into this?”

“For you!” said Summer. “Blue, I was just trying to help!”

“I was doing just fine!” Blue protested. “I didn’t ask you to beat anypony up for me!”

“That’s what I’m saying! You always seemed so depressed, but you wouldn’t do anything to change it! It wasn’t like you, Blue. You’re usually so – I dunno, you don’t keep your feelings all bottled up like that. You were really starting to scare me.”

Blue sat down next to her. “I just didn’t wanna sink to her level, you know? Pix wanted to look better than everypony, but I wanted to really BE the better pony, and not fight back. How was I gonna teach her a lesson by being just like her?”

A sad, dark look crept onto Summer’s face. “I dunno,” she intoned softly. “I guess I just didn’t care. I just wanted her to leave you alone. I… I wanted you to be happy again.”

“Summer!” said Blue. “I’m supposed to take care of YOU, remember? You don’t have to do stuff like that for me.”

“I know. But I wanted to. You’re my sister too. We gotta look out for each other.”

The two of them sat together in silence for a minute. Behind the office door, the murmuring voices of Miss Dewdrop and their parents continued their discussion in disappointed tones. Then, at length, a humorous smirk crept onto Summer’s face.

“You know, Picture called you Cookie-Butt. Again.”

Blue’s face contorted with rage. “It’s not a cookie! It’s – ”

“ – the moon!” Summer chimed in unison with her. Then she giggled. “I like it when you say that. You’re so funny when you’re all angry and serious.”

Blue sighed, and then smiled a little as well. She looked her sister over: Summer’s mane was muddied and matted, with stray twigs and leaves poking out of it, and her coat was scuffed and scratched. Her legs were badly scraped, and already a bruise was welling up under her left eye, and would surely blacken in the next few days. But Blue had passed Picture Perfect in the hallway just minutes earlier, and she knew that the other filly was hardly in better shape.

“Well,” she said, “I guess you DID teach her a lesson, kind of. That’s gotta count for something.”

“Yeah,” Summer laughed. “Now she knows not to mess with us.”

Blue nodded, and then leaned against Summer, wrapping a foreleg around her shoulder and pulling her in for a close side-hug. “Just – please,” she said, “please don’t do anything like that again. I don’t want you to get hurt. I love you too much.”

“Love you too, sis. And I promise. You don’t ever have to worry about me.”

Though Aurora had planned on nothing more than a light nap, it was not until the late hours of the evening, when soft red twilight glowed in the sky behind her curtains, filtering into the room and tinting her white bedspread red, that she finally awoke. Her blue eyes fluttered open, jarred from a deep and restful slumber, at the sound of somepony quietly knocking at her door. Stirring, she raised her head, yawned, and murmured, “Come in.”

The door opened, and a helmeted head poked itself inside the room. “Pardon me, your highness,” said Lantern Jaw. “But it’s nearly nightfall. Glass Eye suspected that you might still be asleep, so – ”

“Right, right, of course,” Aurora said with a yawn, rising from her bed as her sleepy mind came into sharper focus. “Time to raise the moon. Thank you, Lantern Jaw.”

“Just following orders, your highness,” he said. “Is Princess Corona sleeping as well?”

“Probably. She always seems so energetic, but she needs rest as much as anypony – especially after our little adventure in Ponyville last night.” Aurora strode through the door, passing Lantern Jaw and stepping into the hallway towards Corona’s bedroom. For once, relaxed and rested as she was, Aurora almost looked forward to her nightly duty; she hoped her sister would feel the same. Raising her hoof, she rapped thrice, softly, on the tall white door of the bedchamber. “Summer? Er- Princess Corona?” she called out, remembering to use titles in front of Lantern Jaw. “Are you in there? It’s almost time for the sunset….”

No answer came. A crease of concern formed on Aurora’s brow as she pushed open the door.

The room was empty. No Corona.

Aurora frowned. Of the two of them, Corona was always the more likely to forget even the most essential of their new duties – even the sunrise and sunset, on more than one occasion, and it had always been Aurora’s job to remind her. She glanced at the tall grandfather clock that stood on the far wall of her the room: it was now more than half past seven. At this time of year, the sunset couldn’t be postponed for very much longer. Turning from the doorway, she made for the stairs, motioning with her head for Lantern Jaw to follow her.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any idea where she is, would you?” she asked him as she walked.

“Er,” he began nervously, “actually, your highness – we all thought she was up here.”

“We?” Aurora stopped short and turned back to face the guard. “What do you mean?”

“The guards. The palace staff. Glass Eye. Everypony, your highness. Princess Corona hasn’t been seen in several hours, at the least. We all thought she must be in her room.”

Aurora’s gentle exasperation with her sister changed suddenly into an icy tingle of fear. Corona was missing? Where else could she be, if not in the palace? The princess bit her lip as her brow again creased with concern. She thought back – what was it that had been troubling her sister so much earlier that afternoon? There was Ghost, and that business with Somnambula…. “She couldn’t have – no – would she?” she murmured, wondering aloud.

“I’m sorry, your highness?” said Lantern Jaw. “Did you say something?”

“I need to get to the train station,” she said sharply, turning again towards her own room. The fear and frustration mingled in her mind and hardened into a cold resolve. “Summer, Summer, Summer,” she muttered under her breath. “Why’d you get yourself into this?”

After hastily donning her regalia, Aurora left for the station, trotting briskly down the long cobblestone boulevard that led from the palace. Lantern Jaw accompanied her, as it was still official policy that neither princess should travel the streets without escort, and the two of them attracted a fair bit of attention: here and there, ponies stopped to bow, or stared wide-eyed as their ruler rushed past them. Aurora ignored them all. That old cloud of worry had begun to descend upon her again, though she made her sternest effort to conceal it. Upon her arrival, the stationmaster was startled to see the princess simply walk right up to his office, and was even more surprised when she began to inquire about her sister.

“Ah, yes, yes, your highness” said Smokestack Lightning, the old stationmaster. He was a sturdy red earth pony with a wisp of white hair atop his head and a pair of old-timey spectacles perched on his snout. “Princess Corona did indeed board a train not three hours ago, in the company of – hmmm.” He examined the clipboard on the desk before him and flipped back a page or two. “In the company of one Professor Somnambula of the Arcane University. And, uh – and one owl.” He offered the princess a sheepish grin. “That’s, er, heh heh – that’s what’s written here, your highness.”

Aurora groaned and applied a hoof to her forehead. “I told her she didn’t have anything to worry about! She should’ve – oh, never mind. When’s the next train?”

Before the stationmaster could answer, the bell in the train station’s clock-tower chimed eight times. Aurora glanced up through the glass roof: the hour was late, and the red sky was darkening, and still the moon waited to be raised.

“No, scratch that,” she said. “We haven’t got time for a train. It’s an hour trip, at least. The sunset can’t wait that long.” Aurora turned away from the stationmaster and began to pace. How could she reach Corona in time? She certainly couldn’t fly to Ponyville – she was nowhere near ready for that – but no other options presented themselves. The princess started to sweat as jeering voices echoed through her uneasy mind. What kind of princess are you? If you can’t even raise the moon on time, what makes you think you’re fit to rule this country?

“Ahem,” Lantern Jaw cleared his throat, breaking Aurora out of her disquieted trance. “If I may make a suggestion, your highness – there is a faster way to get to Ponyville, if necessary.”

Aurora turned to him, eager for any solution. “What’s that?”

“The royal sky chariot, your highness. I, uh,” he coughed quietly, clearly uncomfortable making so brazen a suggestion. “I know it goes against current policy to travel that way, but if the situation is truly urgent….”

Aurora nodded grimly. “Yes. Yes, you’re right, it’ll have to do. It’s not like we have many other options at this point.” She turned back towards the door, heading for the palace.

Lantern Jaw coughed a second time. Aurora stopped in her tracks, turning her head back to look at him, eyeing him curiously, inviting him to speak. A peculiar look squirmed its way across his face, as though he were gathering up the nerve to say something difficult. “Perhaps – perhaps I might accompany you, your highness. Since Professor Somnambula is going to be treating the ill ponies this evening… since my father….” He faltered, trailing off and looking at the ground, uncomfortable and ashamed of his openness.

There was a pause. Aurora looked at the guard more closely, examining him with gentle, curious eyes. His face under his helmet suddenly seemed very young, and very vulnerable, nothing like the proud nobles and stone-faced generals she had grown to resent in her months as a ruler. In fact, now that she was really paying attention, he didn’t look much older than she was: just a boy away from home, duty-bound, missing his brother, missing his father, just trying his best to look like he had it all together. Something Aurora could understand.

The princess offered him a cautious, friendly smile. “Absolutely,” she said kindly. “I’d be happy for you come with me.”

All signs of vulnerability vanished from Lantern Jaw’s face. “Much obliged, your highness,” he said, recovering his usual stern tone and standing again at attention. Aurora took this as an indication of gratitude.

“No, thank you,” she said, just as gratefully. “Now, come on. We don’t have a second to lose.”

Fifteen minutes later, Aurora found herself feeling much less grateful.

She stood, trembling, in the rear of the official Sky Chariot of the Princess of the Night, painted blue and midnight-black, dotted with diamonds, pulled by a team of four grim-faced, dark-winged batponies. Their speed was astonishing: they shot forth from Canterlot like a cannonball from a cannon, and were now tearing through the air at a rate that made her eyes water. By some clever spell woven into the chariot’s design, she found that she was safely anchored where she stood, immune to the pull of inertia; still, she desperately wished there were something for her to hold on to.

Heights had never much agreed with Aurora – not when she was a foal, and certainly not now. Even after accepting her transformation into a princess, she had always held on to the vague hope that, perhaps, she might never be called upon to use her newfound wings. Speeding through the sky in a flying chariot wasn’t much better than flying, and the same jittery nerves that tormented her in flight training were troubling her now. She glanced at Lantern Jaw, who stood stone-faced in the chariot at her side, and made a concerted effort to still her shivering legs. It wouldn’t do to look frightened, not even in front of him.

The whole country of Equestria opened out before them, the same towns and fields and rivers that Aurora could see from her balcony. But now, viewing them from above, from a lonely vantage point in the middle of the sky, it all seemed more real, more there, as if there were no longer any veil between her and her kingdom. The red sun shone low in the distant western sky, still hanging stubbornly just above the horizon, but its light was failing fast.

The sound of distant thunder rippled through the evening air from the direction of the Everfree region, and Aurora turned to look. By now the towering storm system had now grown to such great heights that its shadow lay across the whole land, darkening the country as though it were already night. She frowned again, remembering the unpleasant effect the growing storm had had on her dreams earlier in the afternoon. The chariot sped on.

In a matter of minutes, they touched down in Ponyville, in a wide stone courtyard near the town center. The resident ponies reacted with understandable awe and surprise, staring, bowing, chattering amongst themselves as the ponies in Canterlot had done. And just like in Canterlot, Aurora hurriedly brushed past them all, making her way as quickly as she could to the one place she hoped Corona might be found: the hospital, which stood just down the street from their landing place. Lantern Jaw and two of the batponies followed at her heels, providing escort and keeping the more curious of the townsfolk at bay.

To Aurora’s pleasant surprise, Tally Mark stood waiting in the hospital lobby. “Your highness!” said the unicorn, bowing reverentially to the unexpected visitor. “I hadn’t thought you would be coming. Princess Corona was just here, with a professor from the University. The cure worked! I can’t begin to thank you….”

“Where are they now?” Aurora demanded, perhaps a little too harshly. The mild hurt on Tally Mark’s face made her immediately regret her tone.

“They just left, your highness,” answered the mayor. “For the Everfree Forest. They were returning the – uh, well, I’m sure you know….”

“Mayor Tally Mark!” cried a white, teal-garbed nursepony, stepping into the lobby. “Featherhelm’s finally awake. He wants to speak – oh!” She noticed the princess and stopped herself short, taking a moment to bow deeply.

Lantern Jaw’s eyes widened at the mention of his father’s name. Aurora noticed, and nodded for the nurse to go on.

“Featherhelm’s woken up,” she continued. “He wants to speak with the mayor at once. He says it’s urgent. It’s about the foalnappings.”

Now it was Tally Mark’s turn to look surprised. “Yes, I’ll be there in a moment. Perhaps the Princess would like to see the recovering patients as well?”

Aurora stood for a moment in tormented indecision. Urgent information about the foalnappings was invaluable, especially with Lantern Jaw’s younger brother counted among the missing, and the princess couldn’t very well deny him the visit with his father that had been his whole reason for coming to Ponyville. But the clock was ticking, time was running terribly short. What might happen if the sunset was late? What would the newspapers say? Which Canterlot nobles might cite this failure as a sign of her inadequacy as a ruler?

She shared a glance with Lantern Jaw. There was a desperate, pleading look in his flinty orange eyes that made Aurora’s mind flash back, back to words that they had exchanged mere hours ago.

He will be found. Something will be done. I promise you that.

Aurora sighed. The fears and concerns of her subjects, she decided at last, were more important than the opinions of a few stuffy nobles. Hardening her resolve once more, she nodded to the mayor.

Tally Mark led the princess and guard down the long white hallway to the gray double-doors of the critical care ward, just as she had done the night before. Inside were the same rows of beds filled with infirmed ponies, but now they were awake, sitting up, stretching their aching limbs, chatting with loved ones who stood at their bedsides. Amid the bustle of nurses and the quiet beeping of machinery, there was a soft, unanimous murmur of joy and hope filling the sterile air of the room.

In the nearest bed sat a graying, puce-maned pegasus, now fully awake and propped up comfortably against his pillow. His grizzled old face brightened at the sight of his son’s approach, but out of deference to the mayor and princess he bowed his head and said nothing yet.

“Featherhelm,” said Tally Mark. “Good to see you feeling better.”

“Hm. It’s pretty good to be feelin’ better,” he said. Though his voice was still weak from days of disuse, it had lost none of its toughness. Aurora could hear years of experience and earthy wisdom in every word he spoke. “But I’m obliged, Mayor. And to you too, your highness. Quite an honor, visiting an old vet like me in the hospital.”

“It’s – ahem – it’s my honor as well,” said Aurora. “Lantern Jaw tells me you were one of Princess Celestia’s best captains for years, and that you served in the Griffon Wars.”

He waved a hoof dismissively. “Ah, I’m nopony. Just a tired old soldier, that’s all. But this soldier’s still got a working pair of eyes.” He turned to look at Tally Mark. “I saw the foalnapper, Mayor. Saw her with my own two eyes, just before I wound up here.”

“It wasn’t Nightmare Moon,” said Aurora. “I can go ahead and tell you that right now.”

“I know, I know. But Nightmare Moon wasn’t what I saw that last time. There was somepony else.”

“Who?” asked Tally Mark. “What happened? What did you see?”

“It was just a week ago, just after – just after Crimson Lance had gone missing.” Lantern Jaw’s eyes darkened at the mention of his missing brother. Featherhelm’s face turned grim as well, and a touch of sadness crept into his gruff voice as he related his tale. “I was out at the border of the woods, lookin’ for him as always – on the chance, you know, just on the chance that I’d see him – and a storm was blowing up, thunder and lightning and all that jazz. I caught a whiff of smoke in the air, and I followed it – just a little ways into the woods, close to where I’d seen that Nightmare Moon creature before. But there was something different this time.

“There were foals. Two of ‘em, an earth pony and a pegasus. I didn’t recognize either one. They were walking into the woods like they were in a trance, blank eyes staring straight ahead, didn’t hear me when I called out to ‘em. That’s when I heard this music.”

“Music?” Aurora echoed curiously.

“Yes, your highness. Like birdsong, except sweeter. This wistful, lilting melody. Almost hypnotic. I think the foals were following it. I followed it too, through the trees, through the rain. The wind was loud, but I heard the music all the same – like I was hearin’ it with my mind, instead of my ears. I guess I was a little bit hypnotized myself.” He shrugged. “Then I saw what was making the sound. There was a bird, a yellow bird, and a unicorn. She was just standing there in a clearing with the bird on her back, drawing the foals right towards herself, with the same blank look on her face, but with her eyes glowing red. Hm. Looking back now, the whole thing feels kinda like a dream.”

“Maybe it was a dream,” Tally Mark suggested. “You have been unconscious for a week.”

Aurora frowned, deep in troubled thought. “Featherhelm,” she said. “This unicorn – what did she look like?”

Featherhelm thought back. “She was tall,” he said at length. “Not quite your height, your highness, but still very tall. White coat, dark blue mane, almost black. Her Cutie Mark….” He closed his eyes, trying to recall every last detail. “It was pink or purple, shaped like a star, or a compass point, with a little black swirly thing in the center. Very mystical-looking. Anyway, that’s when the so-called Nightmare Moon showed up again, and I started feelin’ woozy….”

There was more to Featherhelm’s story, but Aurora never heard it. Without a word, she turned and bolted from the room, dashing down the hallway, flying through the lobby, and tearing down the streets of Ponyville back to the square where the chariot was parked, cursing herself all the while.

That symbol. That was Somnambula’s Cutie Mark. There was no mistaking it. Corona was right.

Corona was right.

The two batponies still stood hooked to the vehicle started at their princess’s approach. “Get going!” she snapped, turning her fierce gaze on them as she stepped into the back of the chariot. “To the Everfree Forest. Now!”

They obeyed without question. Even with only two ponies pulling it, the chariot’s speed was still incredible, covering the distance between the town and forest in barely a minute. On Aurora’s instructions, they landed just at the edge of the wood, near the entrance to the forest path the princesses had followed the night before. The second the chariot touched down, Aurora leapt to the ground and took off into the trees, her hooves pounding over the trail, leaving the two stunned batponies far behind her. A crack of thunder split the sky over her head, and all at once the rain came howling down from the heights in gusty torrents. Any remaining daylight now fled before the gloomy onslaught of the breaking storm.

As she ran, a sick new worry gripped Aurora’s heart, twisting her stomach, stinging her eyes. Corona had been right and she hadn’t listened. She had called her paranoid. What kind of a sister was she? Rain lashed at her face, pelting down on her even through the thick forest canopy; she couldn’t tell whether the wetness on her cheeks was rainwater or her own frantic tears.

Running at full gallop, she reached the forest crossroads in a matter of minutes, then turned left down the long swampy path that led to the ruined forest village. This time, the strong storm winds had blown away all the mist and fog that had hampered her navigation of the woods the previous night, though the torrential rain made the ground even swampier. As Aurora dashed round a corner, narrowly avoiding a collision with a wide-trunked willow, her hooves slipped out from under her and she fell with a terrible thud onto the muddy earth.

Slowly, painfully, she began to pick herself up – and then noticed something on the ground before her eyes. There were hoofprints: two sets that clearly belonged to large ponies – probably her sister and Somnambula – and still others, all mixed up together, that looked like they came from at least three more. But these were smaller, almost certainly belonging to foals. Aurora’s fear deepened, and she quickly pulled herself to her hooves and ran even faster than before.

Soon she reached the edge of the ghost town. A flash of lightning illuminated the crumbling, ivy-coated brick buildings that stood in the wide clearing. And somewhere, amid the pouring rain, Aurora thought she could make out a pony-shape moving in the darkness between two dilapidated houses on the other side of the ruined town square.

“Summer!” she yelled over the howling wind. “Summer! Is that you?”

No voice answered her – no pony voice, at least. But out of nowhere, another sound came to Aurora’s ears: a sweet, sad piping sound, like the music of a heavenly pan-flute. Clear and strong it rang in her ears, echoing in her mind, reverberating in her soul. The storm that raged around her suddenly seemed very faint and far-away; the wind and thunder were muffled, the lightning dimmed, the cold rain that pelted her coat softened into nothingness. Only the song seemed to exist in her world now, and it was calling out to her, beckoning, inviting.

The shadowy figure still stood at the other end of the square, and slowly, steadily, inevitably, Aurora felt her legs marching towards it. As she drew closer it became clear it was a unicorn. Her horn glowed like a pink-tinted lamp, illuminating her face. It was indeed Somnambula, but she was… different, somehow. Gone were her scarf and glasses, and piercing red eyes shone underneath her grim, silent brow. Perched atop her back was a large bird of brilliant golden plumage, singing its sad, merry, hypnotic song over the din of the wind and rain. Its beady eyes glowed with the same red light as the unicorn’s.

There were other shapes – other ponies, moving about in the murky gloom beyond where Somnambula stood. Three foals she could see: one brown unicorn colt, a blue pegasus filly, and teal-and-white earth pony colt, all standing eerily still, their faces blank, their eyes shining with the faintest hint of red light. They were clustered together at the edge of the clearing, barely visible in the darkness. Their shapes grew clearer as Aurora drew nearer and nearer to them, her heavy legs moving forward of their own accord, feeling as though she were dreaming.

Then she saw her sister.

Corona was standing by the foals, staring straight at Aurora. Her mane was muddied and matted, her coat was scuffed and scratched, and her face was utterly vacant, as lifeless as a corpse. Behind her red eyes, which glowed now with the same mesmerizing light as the other ponies’, Aurora could just barely sense some movement of will, as though Corona were struggling with all her might to communicate something, anything at all to her. For the briefest of moments, their gazes met: and although nothing was spoken between them, Aurora’s mind flashed back, back to the night before, when her sister had lain helpless at the mercy of “Nightmare Moon” – and a weak, desperate voice whispered into her mind.

Blue… please… help….

And just like that, the spell was shattered.

“Somnambula!” Aurora shouted, her eyes blazing with a white fire of their own. She shook herself, as though shedding the cloak of enchantment that had enveloped her, and reality came rushing back into her mind, filling her with a new vigor, and a new fury. “What have you done to her?!”

“Sorry, your highness,” Somnambula spat. Her voice was harsh, full of bile and disgust, and patently not her own. “Caught me at an inopportune moment, I’m afraid. I sensed your approach, and hoped I might nab you as well.” A sick, sneering grin crawled onto her face. “But I suppose now I’ll have to – ”

The professor never got a chance to finish her sentence. While she was speaking, Aurora seized a heavy log with her magic and hurled it right at Somnambula’s face. There was a crack and flash: the log flew into burning splinters, and purplish smoke drifted up from the unicorn’s horn. Somnambula’s sneer twisted into an angry scowl. The princess met her sneer with a stern, defiant glare, holding her head high and proud, her long midnight mane floating wildly in the fierce wind.

“Let them go.” Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled threateningly after Aurora’s command.

The bird atop Somnambula’s back ceased its singing. With a leap and a rustle of golden feathers, it sprang from its perch and flew, untroubled by the rain and wind, to a safe vantage point atop the remains of the crumbling wood-and-brick town hall. Somnambula glowered at Aurora – and then, without a word, darted suddenly forward into the square, her horn blazing with pink-purple light as she moved to attack.

Aurora reacted on instinct. A bolt of bright purple seared through the air towards her, and she was barely able to lunge out of its path. The brick wall of the old building behind her burst apart as it was stuck by the magic bolt, and fragments of stone rained down upon her back. The princess responded in kind with a telekinetic blast of her own, but Somnambula resisted, turning the weight and force of her own magic against her. Aurora felt overwhelmed, like a twig caught in a tidal wave, and in moments she was lifted right off her hooves and thrown back against the damaged house. All that was left standing of the wall crumbled into pieces as she collided with it.

Aurora pulled herself to her hooves, remembering Lord Stargazer’s words of admonishment. No wild bolts of lightning this time, no lack of control. She needed cold concentration, careful calculation. With great focus and force of will, she lifted the scattered bricks all around her into the air, giving careful attention to each one, and then hurled them at her opponent in a fierce flurry of masonry.

Before any of the bricks could reach their target, Somnambula’s horn glowed again, weaving pink-purple bands of light all about herself. There was a great white flash, and in an instant she had vanished. The bricks sailed through empty air and pelted the ground many yards away.

In another instant she appeared again, flashing back into view just to Aurora’s right. The princess turned to confront her, but was knocked to the ground by the devastating weight of another magical blast to her side. She skidded several yards across the muddy earth, the wind completely knocked from her lungs. Raising her head weakly, she saw Somnambula, illuminated by a momentary flash of lightning, her glaring red eyes glowing against the black outline of her head. She was grinning.

“Why are you doing this?” Aurora demanded, gasping for air. “What do you want?!”

“Just filling my monthly quota,” said the unicorn in a mocking tone, stepping causally towards her defeated foe. “Three foals in a single trip is quite the haul, and the Princess will make a fine bonus.”

Summer....

The golden bird, still perched atop the ruined town hall, gave a triumphant cry – a harsh, croaking sound, utterly unlike its enchanting singing. Aurora made one last, feeble attempt to rise to her hooves again, and her eyes drifted across the square, to her sister and the three foals, still standing helpless, hypnotized, watching the fight with blank faces and empty stares, with no one to depend on but her. No one to protect them but her.

And something inside Aurora snapped.

“No… no… NO!”

From out of the princess’s eyes a white light blazed: dazzling, blinding, bathing the storm-shadowed village in an impossible radiance. Aurora felt her magical energies rising and surging through every vein in her body, as though she had tapped into some bottomless well of power deep inside herself. It was just like her battle the previous night, but more so, infinitely more, or so it seemed to her; that fight had been but a taste of her real potential. Now her magic flowed with an ease that endless hours of practice and Stargazer’s tireless berating hadn’t brought her. Her mane and tale billowed in the wind, and piercing white stars shone in the rippling black locks. She felt like a new pony; she felt the way she imagined Princess Celestia must have felt at the height of her power. It was exhilarating.

From her horn leapt a white lightning bolt. Somnambula recoiled, erecting a crackling barrier of pink-purple energy to shield herself from the attack, but she was straining terribly, gritting her teeth, her face contorted into a pained mixture of fury and blind fear. Her hooves began to slide backwards through the mud as Aurora rose to her feet and pushed against the shield with all her considerable might. A few more seconds of pressure, and surely the defense would fail.

Then the yellow bird, still observing the fight from its high perch, raised its voice yet again. This time, it was neither the sweet, hypnotic song nor the guttural cry of triumph, but another sound altogether – a loud, piercing scream, like a trumpet wailing on its highest note – and the red glow of its eyes brightened intensely. Somnambula’s eyes glowed brighter as well, and the purplish light of her magical barrier began to redden into a fiery crimson hue. Now she pushed back against Aurora with renewed force, tremendous force, like the indomitable weight of a mountain, and suddenly Aurora began to feel herself slipping….

There was an enormous boom, like a thunderclap right in Aurora’s face, and for a moment she could see nothing but red light. She was thrown to the ground, her ears ringing and her head swimming. She felt drained, more fatigued than she had ever felt in her life, as though she had run a thousand miles bearing boulders on her back. At last the light began to fade, and Aurora tried to stand, her legs weak and wobbling, her eyes barely half-open. She thought she heard mocking laughter, and the vague shapes of ponies moving away from her, but her consciousness was quickly abandoning her. In a matter of seconds it was gone completely.

With a defeated sigh, Aurora slumped to ground, utterly exhausted, and darkness claimed her weary eyes.

11: The Far North

The birth of Quila Warwing, daughter of King Ragnar Blacktalon the griffon and Frostbane the pegasus, had caused quite a stir among the feathered folk of the Far North. Frostbane had entered the country only a few years earlier, bringing with her a band of mercenary pegasi whose militant way of life had made them a poor fit for the peaceful culture of Equestria, and she had sworn fealty to Blacktalon to secure safe refuge for her troops. It had taken much effort and bull-headed determination for Frostbane to work her way up the military ladder and become one of the king’s most trusted soldiers – then one of his most trusted generals, and then his personal consort. Their first and only daughter was born shortly thereafter.

Quila’s birth might not have caused such a stir if it hadn’t coincided with a sudden change of climate in the Northlands. Winter descended upon the mountains, a seemingly unending snowstorm, wrapping the land around the castle of Gloomhold in a perpetual deep freeze. Rumors began to buzz: perhaps the storm was a curse, the work of some evil sorcerer, or perhaps it was nature rebelling against the unnatural union of pony and griffon. But the king never issued an official statement, and eventually the buzz died down as the griffon-folk began to accept the new weather as a permanent feature of their realm.

Other changes became noticeable. The griffons who lived in the surrounding small villages became bitter and resentful, often abandoning their neighbors to freeze and hoarding precious food and firewood for themselves. The servants and officials who lived in the castle seemed to be consumed with an overpowering devotion to their lord and liege, far beyond what one would normally expect from even the loyalist subjects. And all lived in unquestioning fear of Blacktalon.

In spite of the changes, business in the kingdom had to go on – and on it went, for nearly two decades. With the griffons’ farms under deep frost, food had to be imported in vast quantities. The seaside castle of Gloomhold, once an important shipping port, was forced to cease trading because the icy seas had become unnavigable. And most recently, with the deaths of the old princesses of Equestria, ambassadors from Canterlot began to visit the pony nation’s various allies to renegotiate treaties and make certain that nothing would change between them under their new leadership. Gloomhold, though only a small sovereign state within the larger Griffon Kingdom, was one such old ally.

Rumors began to buzz once again, rumors and questions: Who were the new princesses? What would their attitude be towards the Griffon Kingdom? What opportunities might open up now? How would Blacktalon respond? Was this a new beginning for Gloomhold?

Or would everything stay the same – always the same?

The great wooden doors shut with a booming thud, silencing the whistle and roar of the wintry wind that blustered outside. Seconds later, the sharp clack, clack, clack of hooves on a stone floor resounded through the dark, spacious halls of Gloomhold. In centuries past, that sound would have been entirely alien to the Griffon Kingdom, but over the last twenty years it had become familiar to every noble, official, and palace guard who dwelt in that ancient castle. Frostbane had returned.

A young griffon in servant’s garb came rushing forth from a shadowy alcove to greet her.

“Hail, General Frostbane,” she rasped, bowing low. After an appropriate pause she raised her head again. “I take it your business in the mountains is concluded?”

Frostbane regarded the servant coolly. The general was tall, a pale-gray pegasus, sharp-featured, lean but muscular, clad in a grim war-helm and thick steel breastplate. Sitting herself on the stone floor, she lifted the helmet off of her head and shook out her mane, tossing snow from her thick pleats of light and dark blue.

“My business, Opinicus,” said Frostbane, “is none of yours.”

“Of course, ma’am.” The griffon coughed.

Frostbane passed the helmet to Opinicus, who tucked it under her wing and followed close behind her as she made her way down the long hall. Dark pillars of gray stone stood in long rows, holding up a high roof that arched in the darkness overhead.

“Well. You seem reticent,” said Frostbane, turning back to catch Opinicus with one cold eye. “Has something happened while I was gone?”

“Only this, ma’am. The Witch has returned.”

“Again?” Frostbane sighed. “How many this time? Two? Three? Hardly seems worth the trouble.”

“Four, ma’am,” said Opinicus. She coughed, adding, “Or so I’ve been told. She asked to see you, whenever you returned. Said there was something different this time, something that warranted your especial attention.”

“Did she now?” Frostbane came to a stop before an enormous set of heavy wooden double-doors. For a moment she paused, considering, her face scrunched up in thought. Should the king know about this? Any knowledge she had that he lacked was a possible advantage, however slight.

“Where is the king now?” she asked.

“In the throne room, ma’am. I believe – *cough* – I believe he’s been waiting for you.”

“Then tell Somnambula to wait in the Underhold, with the prisoners,” she finally ordered. “I’ll be down shortly.”

“At once, ma’am.”

Opinicus scurried away (coughing yet again), and Frostbane thrust open the great doors with a hoof. Inside was a wide rectangular room, built of the same gray stone, but with elaborate tapestries hanging in between the windows on the walls. In the middle of the room, a fierce fire roared in a wide circular pit, and beyond the fire was a raised dais on which stood a heavy, ornately carved stone chair.

And in the chair sat the king. He was an enormous griffon, dark-feathered and orange-eyed. At Frostbane’s approach his brow furrowed and his black beak curled into a smirk.

“Welcome back, General,” he said. His voice was deep and oily, and behind his hospitable tone lurked a squirming sort of mockery. “Ever faithful, ever vigilant. Is the charm still working?”

“Is the wind still blowing?” Frostbane shot back coldly. “Is the snow still falling? Nothing has changed, Your Majesty. Nothing ever changes here.”

“Good. Then all is well, all is well.” Blacktalon rose from his throne, striding to a nearby window. His black talons clicked on the stone floor as he walked, and the red firelight shone in his eyes as he gazed out into the storm.

“You wanted to see me?” asked Frostbane.

“Only wanted to know what you were up to. I do so hate it when you go into the mountains without telling me first. Of course, I suppose it must have something to do with….”

“Just making certain that nothing changes,” Frostbane said hastily. “Isn’t that what you like best?”

“Well,” he said, still gazing into the storm, “I suppose the results speak for themselves.”

“Your errand girl has returned again,” Frostbane informed him after a pause. She walked to his side, gazing out the window with him. “Four this time. That’s three more than the last trip brought in.”

“Excellent, excellent,” said the king. “To be put to work in the mines, like the rest.”

“Is it excellent? It’s a great deal of trouble and risk just for a few more pitiful hooves in the mines.” There was an icy edge in the general’s voice; she couldn’t hide her exasperation. Frostbane actually cared very little about what Blacktalon thought, but his thick-headedness, and the inanity of his schemes, bothered her more than she cared to admit.

“You think too much of the present,” said Blacktalon. “The wise king plans for tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. Our little ponies will never leave this place, and the mines will make them grow strong. Within the next generation or two we’ll have a whole legion of sturdy workers who know nothing but loyalty and devotion to Gloomhold.”

“A slave race.”

“Why, yes,” the king said thoughtfully. “Yes, that’s precisely what they would be.” He smirked again. “But then, what better use for ponies in a place like this?”

His contempt was palpable. Frostbane nearly winced.

“All ponies?” she prodded.

Blacktalon eyed her curiously. Only then did he seem to remember that he was speaking to a pony. “Oh – well, you know what I mean,” he said. “Those who don’t serve me willingly, of course. You and your band were wiser than that. You’re far too strong to be a slave. That is why you are out leading troops and sleeping by my side, instead of breaking your back digging up gemstones.”

For a while Frostbane maintained a dour silence, and the griffon and the pegasus stared out the window together. The thick glass pane was nearly frosted over, but she could make out a few familiar sights through the swirling snowstorm. Thousands of feet below, gray waves riddled with tiny icebergs crashed against the walls of the sea-cliff upon which the castle stood. Far to the south, the jagged peaks of the Drackenridge Mountains loomed up menacingly. At the sight of the mountains Frostbane felt a sad, gentle tug of homesickness, stirred by faint memories of the land that lay on the other side – the land from which she had fled all those years ago. Equestria.

She tore her eyes away, deciding instead to focus on the business at hoof. “Where’s Quila?” she asked, breaking the silence.

Blacktalon, who had been gazing at the storm with pleasure as though admiring his own handiwork, turned to her with a questioning expression. “Who?”

Frostbane suspected that his ignorance was feigned, but it irked her all the same. She closed her eyes and heaved a frustrated sigh. “Where’s our daughter?” she asked after a pause, stressing every word.

“Ah. Yes, her. That Quila.” A self-assured smirk returned to his face. “In the lower training room, I think. I believe one of the soldiers mentioned seeing her there….”

“Then Your Majesty will excuse me. I have business to attend to.”

“Of course,” said Blacktalon. His smirk followed her as she turned away to leave.

Without another word, still slightly fuming, the pegasus left the throne room, heading back down the hallway towards the staircase. Talking to Blacktalon always fouled her mood, but today was worse than usual. She knew – she had always known – that he didn’t care about their daughter as anything more than a tool for securing his legacy. So be it; her own feelings towards Quila weren’t much warmer. But something about the way he took her for granted just grated against Frostbane’s nerves. He hadn’t raised Quila, he hadn’t nursed her from foalhood, he hadn’t trained her into the excellent warrior that she was today. Good grief, she thought, he hadn’t even been present at her birth. No, Quila was hers. Why should the king profit from an heir that he had never bothered to invest in personally?

He shouldn’t. And if her plan worked, then he most certainly wouldn’t.

Frostbane descended a few floors, finally reaching the lower barracks. The sound of clanging metal and rustling feathers greeted her the moment she opened the door. The room was long and the vaulted ceiling was high to allow for aerial sparring, but it was empty save for two: further inside, her daughter Quila hovered above the ground, darting back and forth, up and down, left and right, locked in mock-combat with a much larger griffon. If she noticed when her mother entered the room, she made no indication of it.

Frostbane beat her wings and leapt into the air, rising to her daughter’s altitude, but she kept her distance from the fight and observed. Quila Warwing was a hippogriff, an uncommon crossbreed, with a light brown coat and white feathers, and a short black beak, like her father’s. Though her sparring partner had the advantage in size, she was faring quite well against him, ducking and weaving to avoid his spear and blocking his strikes with her armored vambraces.

Griffons, unlike ponies, could grip weapons with their talons. It had taken Frostbane and her crew some time to learn this race’s way of fighting, but after a few years of observation and study she knew as much about the wielding of swords and spears as any griffon.

“You’re looking down too much,” she said sharply, catching her daughter’s attention. “And don’t look at your opponent’s blade. Look at his face. You’ll catch his movements more quickly with your peripheral vision.”

Quila paused, but only for a split second. “Yes, mom – er, yes ma’am,” she stammered out, then went back to fighting.

As a hippogriff, Quila was in a rather different situation. Her front talons were less like hands and more like an animal’s claws, making it impossible for her grasp a spear. Instead, Frostbane had ordered the weaponsmith to forge her a hoof-axe, like the kind used by ponies, which was attached to Quila’s right forelimb with a strap. Quila swung it with fierceness and precision, batting away her opponent’s spear and battering his shield with two solid strokes, forcing him to flutter back some distance.

“You’re still not using all your available dimensions,” Frostbane commented again. “You’re in the air, not on the ground. Attack from above and below.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Quila obliged. She beat her wings hard, rising a full head above the griffon and bringing her axe down towards his helmet. He raised his shield, but the blow fell hard enough to force him downwards. The stroke was followed by three more in rapid succession, falling too fast for him to retaliate with his spear, and slowly but surely Quila forced her sparring partner towards the ground.

“Now you’ve got the advantage,” said Frostbane. “Press it! Attack!”

With a piercing cry, Quila swung her axe and split the shaft of the griffon’s spear in two. Splinters flew through the air, and the steel spearhead fell clattering to the stone floor. The griffon, exhausted, collapsed to the floor as well, holding his shield over his head in a desperate bid for safety while more axe-blows rained down on it. The hippogriff’s ruby eyes shone fiercely under her helmet. The wooden shield-plank was beginning to crack.

“Enough.”

Frostbane’s cold voice froze Quila where she stood. She raised her head, eyeing her mother curiously.

“I – I thought you told me I had to be merciless.”

“Mercy is not without its advantages. You must learn restraint as well.” She touched down just in front of them, turning to address the griffon. “You’re dismissed.”

The griffon bowed his feathered head thankfully and fluttered away, leaving mother and daughter alone in the training room.

Quila sat down, detaching her hoof-axe. A long, dark brown mane spilled out as she took off her helmet. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought I was doing better.” Her voice, which had sounded so fierce in the sparring match, now sounded smaller, almost childlike, and without her helmet she looked considerably younger (in fact, Frostbane reminded herself, she was still very young indeed).

“Only fools are ever content with themselves as they are,” Frostbane said coldly. “Never stop striving to improve. You’ve got a big throne to fill, and you’re not nearly ready yet.” Then she sighed gently, and her stern gaze softened. “But… you are getting closer.”

The barest hint of a smile showed itself on Quila’s face, suggesting a powerful elation beneath the surface, but it darkened after the happy moment had passed. “Thank you, ma’am,” she muttered limply.

Frostbane took a few steps away from her daughter to examine the shield the griffon had left behind. Though the steel boss was intact, the round wooden board was chipped and cracked along the edges; a few more solid axe-blows, and it surely would have splintered. No matter what Frostbane had said, Quila was improving immensely.

“Have… have the ambassadors from Equestria arrived yet?” Quila asked out of the blue. “I’ve been studying the diplomacy books you gave me. I finished the last one this morning. I think, if I could just see a real trade negotiation, maybe I’d….”

“They’ll be here in two days,” Frostbane interrupted her. “Continue studying. Read through the books a second time. If the king sees fit, he’ll allow you to attend.” If he even remembers her at all, Frostbane thought bitterly. She leaned down, picked up the shield between her teeth, and carried it over to the weapons rack that lined the wall.

Quila shifted about awkwardly. Something like a scowl crawled across her face, but, like the faint smile a minute before, it quickly faded. “I….”

“Hmm?” Frostbane turned back to look at her. “What is it?”

“I…. was wondering,” she began apprehensively, “if we might have a chance to spend some time together. Before the ambassadors arrive, or after. It doesn’t matter.”

Frostbane simply stared at her daughter. Something prevented her from replying. Was it amazement? Contempt? She couldn’t be sure. She kept silent and listened as Quila stammered on.

“I mean, you used to train me personally. Just a sparring match or two, I’d really, um – I think that would help me a lot. You’re a much better trainer than Knoss is.” She nodded in the direction her griffon opponent had gone, then carried her hoof-axe over to the weapons rack and hung it up. Now she was standing at Frostbane’s side. “And… well… with my birthday coming up….”

“What about it?”

Quila winced at her mother’s sharp tone. “Well… you always used to set aside a day, just to be with me. Don’t you remember? It hasn’t been since I was little… I was just wondering… I just miss you, is all.” Quila lowered her head, her face flushing with embarrassment. Her eyes narrowed and she frowned with what looked like angry self-reproach. “Sorry,” she muttered at length when her mother made no reply.

Frostbane kept staring at her in perplexity. I just miss you…. That feeling – that closeness – that was something Frostbane could barely remember. But images awoke in her mind, images from years ago: Quila as a tiny foal, sleeping, nestled under her wing to shield herself from the cold. Quila gazing up at her with childlike wonder as she listened to her voice, cold but strangely soothing, telling her stories and singing her lullabies. The day of Quila’s birth, the first moment she opened her soft pink eyes and chirped a tiny little chirp….

Words finally began to come into Frostbane’s mind. Unconsciously, she moved her hoof to her chest, feeling for the glowing pendant hidden behind her breastplate, as if to assure herself that it was still there. She leaned in close and lowered her voice nearly to a whisper.

“Things might change soon,” she said in slow, measured tones. “I’m making plans. You’re a part of them. You might find yourself needing to be strong enough, to be brave enough. I need you….” Her words finally failed her, and she began to trail off.

Quila stared back at her with curious, expectant eyes. “Yes?”

Frostbane hesitated. She thought of Blacktalon’s callous attitude towards their daughter, and how badly it had stung her heart – but was it mere resentment? Or was it something else?

A thought flashed through her mind as she stood there, a strange sort of recollection surfacing from the depths of her memory; a feeling she hadn’t felt since Quila was that tiny foal nestling under her wing. It was a warm feeling. She looked again at her daughter, at her only child, and all of a sudden there was so much she wanted to say: You are all that I have in this world and you are worth more to me than this entire kingdom and you deserve so much better than this….

But when she opened her mouth to speak, all that came out was, “Just be strong. And be ready.”

Cold. Stoic. Completely detached.

It was all Quila had ever known.

The hippogriff’s face fell into a soft scowl of bitter disappointment. “Yes, ma’am,” she muttered, her voice cool. She bowed her head, turned, and slunk out of the room.

Frostbane stared after her as she left, standing still, absorbed in thought. Then, shaking her head, she turned and left the room as well. What was that feeling, what had possessed her back there? She shrugged, shaking off the strange sensation. Moments like that came from time to time, sneaking past her icy walls of defense and striking her at some hidden core that she seldom noticed in herself. It always unnerved her, and she did her best to put it behind – though a tiny mote of wonder lingered in her heart as she headed down the stairs again to the Underhold.

The dungeons beneath Gloomhold were mostly used to house captured slaves and prisoners for a day or two before they were put to work in the mines. As such, they were small and spare, compact square cells that ran in long rows along the narrow hallway; the only light came from crackling red torches that hung along the walls, setting shadows dancing across the stone-tile floor. The guard at the door bowed to Frostbane as she entered, but she brushed past him, absorbed in reflection. She decided once again to fix her thoughts on the business at hoof.

And there she was: standing in front of cell forty-seven was a tall white unicorn with a dark mane, a green scarf, and a pair of glasses perched upon her snout. On her back sat a yellow bird with beady red eyes. When she noticed Frostbane, the unicorn’s face brightened and the bird let out a satisfied chirp.

“Somnambula,” Frostbane greeted her curtly. The general had always made an effort to be civil with her, but in truth she had very little respect for the sorceress. She was really nothing more than one of Blacktalon’s pet projects: she had been a researcher from the Canterlot University in Equestria who was unlucky enough to have been ensnared by Kyrie the bird’s hypnotic song while exploring the Everfree Forest. That had been two years ago, and since that time she had worked as an agent in the pony kingdom and other nearby realms, using her magic, her intellect, and the resources at her disposal to bring slaves back to Gloomhold, transiting quickly back and forth between the countries with her powerful teleportation magic. It was an absurd affair, but Blacktalon could not be persuaded to abandon his scheme.

“General Frostbane!” As usual, Somnambula seemed genuinely excited to see her, oblivious to the pegasus’s quiet disdain. “It’s so good to see you! Quite a better haul than usual this time, as you can see. Though it certainly wasn’t easy. To get us all the way from the Drackenridges to Gloomhold overnight, I had to expend sixty-two percent more arcanite energy to balance out the increased material inertia of….”

“Yes, so I’ve been told,” said Frostbane, gently interrupting her. Somnambula had an irritating habit of rambling on and on if no one stopped her. Perhaps she liked the sound of her own voice, or perhaps she really believed that others cared about what she had to say; Frostbane didn’t much care which it was.

She peered into the dimly lit cell. Three foals lay unconscious close together near the metal bars – a brown unicorn colt, a blue pegasus filly, and teal-and-white earth pony colt. They weren’t much, but they looked sturdy enough to work. Perhaps Blacktalon’s plan was not a total waste of time and resources. But hadn't Opinicus said that there were four this time?

Frostbane looked closer. “Wait – what’s that?” she asked. A large, yellowish shape lay on the floor near the back wall, but in the dim lighting she could barely make out its features. She turned to Somnambula. “Is that a pony?”

For a few seconds, Somnambula said nothing; there seemed to be a cold fear in her eyes, and her jaw trembled ever so slightly as though she were struggling to speak. Then Kyrie, still seated on her back, sang a few low, solemn notes, her beady red eyes glowing faintly. Somnambula’s eyes flashed red for a brief instant as well, and she found her voice again.

“Actually, yes,” she said with a confident edge in her tone that made her sound almost like a different pony. “In fact, she’s rather more than just another pony. When I said this was a better haul than usual, I didn’t only mean that in terms of quantity. Take a look.”

The unicorn’s horn began to glow with a pale purple light, illuminating the back of the cell. The light fell upon the slumbering yellow pony-shape in the back. It was a pony, a very tall one – a pegasus, it seemed – but – wait – was that a horn?

Frostbane’s blood ran cold.

“What – what have you done?” she stammered out in a half-whisper. “That’s a – that’s one of the – ”

“One of the new princesses, yes,” Somnambula announced with no small amount of pride. “The opportunity to nab her presented itself, and it seemed the logical thing to do. Now think what a powerful bargaining chip we’ll have with those Equestrian ambassadors!”

“No, no, this isn’t right,” said Frostbane. She began to pace back and forth, striving with all her might to calm her nerves. Her icy façade was beginning to crack under the strain. “You don’t understand. The princesses are more powerful than – we can’t possibly – they’ll – ” She stopped herself, drawing in a deep, calming breath. Then she glared hard at Kyrie. “This doesn’t fit the plan!”

The bird looked down at the floor, ashamed and afraid.

“Keep her locked up here. Make sure no one else sees her,” Frostbane ordered, recovering her cold, stern, businesslike demeanor. She eyed Kyrie specifically. “And whatever you do, don’t let her out of your control. Not even for a second.”

With that, the general turned away, her hooves clacking down the hall at a brisk pace as she headed back for the stairs.

This changed everything. She’d have to accelerate her plans.

She only hoped Quila would be ready.

Author's Note

Valkyrie-Girl's illustrations of Frostbane and Quila Warwing.

12: Inseparable

Cold rain pattered rhythmically against the window. Blue Moon stared out into the drizzle, anxiously scanning the yard with her eyes. She thought she could make out the old oak on the hilltop, and the edge of the woods even further back, but the thick rain-curtain made everything seem hazy and gray. She sighed, let the curtain fall back over the window, and began pacing the floor in a nervous circle.

Summer had been gone for hours. When their father, Tripod, had said he needed a little help surveying the hillsides for a new map of the next county over, Summer had enthusiastically volunteered to accompany him – before immediately asking if Blue wanted to come along as well. But Blue hadn’t slept well the night before, sick with a mild cold that left her tired and sore. Summer, torn between sticking by Blue’s side and spending time with her father, eventually opted for the latter.

“I’m sorry, Blue. I don’t wanna leave you when you’re feeling sick, but I haven’t gotten to spend much time with Dad for a while….”

“It’s okay, Summer. I understand.”

“Sweet!” Summer beamed. “It’s gonna be awesome! Dad said he’d let me work the theoly – the tholydid – you know, the telescope thing!”

“It’s called a theodolite,” said Blue. She cocked her head curiously. “But I thought you weren’t interested in all that stuff.”

“Well, I guess I’m not,” Summer admitted. “Not really. But YOU are, so I wanna learn everything I can! And when I get back, we can talk about cartography and surveying and geography and I’ll finally be able to understand what you’re talking about!”

They laughed together, hugged, and said goodbye.

That had been early in the morning, eleven hours ago, and now Blue was beginning to worry. At first she had hoped they might be back in time for lunch, so she and Summer could eat the fresh watermelons they had been growing in their mother’s garden together. Then, when noon came and went, she hoped they might return before evening fell, since a rainstorm was scheduled for five-thirty and she had wanted the two of them to go birdwatching in the backyard before the weather changed. But now, as the grandfather clock in the foyer chimed six times and the rain pattered on against the windows, Blue’s worries continued to grow.

She set off through the quiet house in search of some way to pass the time. Summer’s conspicuous absence bothered her like an itch. Blue Moon and her sister spent nearly all of their time together, and always found things to do that they both enjoyed, whether that was map-making or butterfly-catching or simply romping around the woods behind their house. (Whether she enjoyed the activities for their own sake, or only because Summer liked them, Blue couldn’t tell, and didn’t care anyway.) Their mother and father sometimes joked that their daughters might as well be joined at the hip, since they were just about inseparable as it was. They shared everything: their room, their favorite foods, even their toothbrushes (though only occasionally, and much to their parents’ consternation). For their entire foalhood, the two were never apart for more than a day. Even being separated for half a day was driving Blue nearly to distraction.

For a while she tried to keep her mind occupied with reading. She hefted a heavy old atlas from the bookshelf, but within minutes she found herself growing bored and restless. There had been a time when such reading might have held her interest for hours in a stretch, but as she and Summer had begun to share their interests with each other, Blue had come to see her sister’s presence as an integral part of the studying experience. She missed the feeling of Summer leaning up next to her to gaze at the maps, she missed the sound of her bubbly voice asking questions every time she turned the page. The silence was almost deafening.

In the end, the only thing that brought her any peace was helping her mother draw up a map. Compass Point was working on an especially large topographical chart of the Canterbury Peninsula, and the huge number of contour lines was rapidly depleting her pen’s ink. Blue dutifully stood by and passed her mother refills every now and again, and Compass Point took the opportunity to provide her daughter with another impromptu geography lesson.

“You see, Canterbury is situated closer to sea level than the rest of the peninsula, and the way the land just dips so suddenly means the contour lines have to be drawn very densely… oh, and I’m positive nothing’s wrong, dear,” Compass Point assured her. “Surveying takes a great deal of time, you know. Don’t worry yourself, they’ll be back before you know it.” She took up her pen again and continued to scribble.

“Oh. All right,” said Blue, nodding in acceptance. “Are you sure?”

“Absholutely,” said Compass Point, enunciating as best she could with the pen between her teeth. “Oh! Phooey,” she spat out the pen. “Clumsy me, another splotch. Blue Moon, can you bring me some white-out?”

The map was indeed large and complicated, and the two of them went on in this manner for a few more hours. Soon Blue moved up from refilling Compass Point’s pens to actually drawing a few lines herself, and receiving proud compliments from her mother. It proved an effective diversion, and Blue certainly enjoyed feeling useful, knowing that her assistance, however small, lightened somepony’s load. By the time Tripod and Summer Sun returned home, exhausted and sopping wet from the rain, Blue had completely forgotten about how worried and lonely she was.

Of course, that didn’t stop her from rushing to greet her sister the moment she showed up on the porch.

“Summer!”

“Blue!”

They embraced.

“What happened? What took you so long?”

“Dad completely forgot to bring the theodidy – the thelydod – the telescope thing,” Summer explained. “We got all the way out to Barrelton before he noticed, but he didn’t wanna come back and get it, so he tried to do the survey with a pair of binoculars.” Summer was soaked to the bone, and so tired she could barely stand, but she couldn’t stop herself from laughing as she related this news. “Can you believe it?”

“Actually,” said Blue, laughing along with her, “that does kind of sound like him.”

The sisters’ laughter mingled with the sound of the rain and thunder. Then they headed inside, warm and safe and together on this cold, rainy night.

Aurora felt terribly cold.

The fire that crackled in the hearth on her right warmed her body, but for some reason she couldn’t stop shivering. She reached back and tugged the thick, red blanket more closely around herself and settled down again, resting her head on the floor. Her long mane spilled out across the carpet, but its sheen was gone, its blackness seemed muted and dull. The stars that had shone so brightly a few hours before were darkened now.

She sneezed, sniffled, and sat back up again, rubbing her snout with a hoof.

“Here ya go,” said Pink Pearl, plucking a tissue out of a nearby box and passing it to the princess. She was seated on her cushion a short distance away, having made room in front of the fire for Aurora to warm herself. The earth pony had been on her porch the night before, warily watching the storm gathering over the Everfree (since Sweet Apple Acres was close enough to the forest to be affected by its weather), and had been there to see the princess go rushing off frantically into the woods. After a few hours had passed with no sign of Aurora’s return, she had sent a couple of her farmhooves out into the forest to search for her.

They had found Aurora half-conscious, her eyes filled with tears, lying in the mud. By the time they had gotten her back to Sweet Apple Acres, she was soaked, sniffling, and shivering.

“Thank you,” Aurora said, taking the tissue. Then she sneezed again.

“Gesundheit, your highness,” said Tally Mark. The mayor stood at the edge of the circle of firelight, looking down at Aurora with violet eyes full of sympathy.

“No,” Aurora snapped, weakly and half-heartedly. “No. Please don’t call me that. I don’t deserve it.”

“Aw, c’mon now, Princess,” Pink Pearl chided her gently. “So you made one mistake. Heck, I wouldn’t even call it a mistake. I mean, if I’d been in your place, I wouldn’t have done any different.”

“You made the best choices you could with the information you had at the time,” said Tally Mark. “And in the process, you uncovered the identity of the foalnapper and found a cure for our plague victims. Nopony could ask any more of you.”

“Ya did your best, highness,” added Pink Pearl. “And that ain’t nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Yes, it is,” said Aurora. She blew her nose, then tossed the tissue into the fire. “It is. I’m supposed to be the princess. I’m supposed to take care of my subjects, aren’t I? I’m supposed to be someone that everypony can rely on.”

Her throat began to tighten, her voice choked. “But – but I’m not. I couldn’t. I couldn’t save anypony. Not those foals. Not even Summer. I’m no princess. I’m not even a decent sister. Don’t you see?” Guilt bowed her head, and Aurora blinked back the tears that gathered in her blue eyes. “Don’t you see? I lost her.”

Tally Mark and Pink Pearl shared a silent, helpless glance. Soft thunder rumbled in the distance, and the rain pattered against the windows in an inconsistent drizzle as the heavy storm moved away north. In one corner of the room, Ghost snored quietly, curled up cozily in a round cat’s bed. She had come staggering in from the woods shortly after Aurora had been found, and the princess had insisted that she be treated kindly.

Aurora, meanwhile, continued to shiver. Corona’s absence made her feel cold right down to her bones. All the world seemed dark and empty, as if the sun had been stolen right out of the sky. Her heart ached like an open wound. In the past, in all the years of her life, Corona had been constantly close at hoof, never leaving her side, always there for her to lean on whenever her burden got too heavy. Every single day, Aurora could count on hearing the warm, bubbling sound of her laughter, seeing the sun-bright shine of her smile, feeling the infinite peace and comfort of Corona’s affectionate embrace. But she wasn’t there now. The laughter and smiles and hugs were all gone. It was like half of her world was missing.

No, not missing, she reminded herself. Not just missing.

She had been taken.

“Blue… please… help….”

The princess shut her tear-filled eyes tightly, trying to block out the sickening images that suddenly leapt into her mind again. But no matter how hard she resisted, she saw Corona, locked away in some distant, desolate place, hurt, scared, lonely, crying out for her, begging for her sister to come and save her….

“Blue!”

Before she knew it, Aurora was finding it difficult to breathe again. With great effort, she drew in a steady, calming lungful of air, exercising every bit of her willpower to compose her thoughts. She tried to focus on other images, happier memories. She thought of two days ago, when Corona had greeted her with a hug after a tiresome night of magic training. She thought of the previous night, after they had returned from their first trip to Ponyville, and Corona had told her exactly what she thought she needed to hear.

“I’m still really glad you’re my sister.”

Corona had said that. But how could she possibly feel that way now? How, when Aurora had let her down so terribly, when she had failed her sister at the exact moment when she needed her most?

The fire crackled in the fireplace. Aurora heaved a sigh, sinking into a deep gloom, continuing to shiver under her blanket. Suddenly she felt very small. She wasn’t Princess Aurora anymore, or so it seemed to her. She had never really been a princess at all. She was just Blue Moon, she had always been Blue Moon, and she was tiny and frightened and helpless and she missed her sister so much it hurt.

A word came into her mind. “Why?” she whispered, almost unthinkingly.

“Er… why what, your highness?” asked Pink Pearl.

“Why was I chosen for this?” Aurora said, sitting up again. “Why was I chosen to be a princess? I don’t have it in me. I’ve worked so hard, I’ve given everything I have, everything I am, and I still failed. I still let her down. I let everypony down.” She shook her head dejectedly. “The Elements made a mistake. It’s all been a mistake. Everything, from the beginning. One big mistake.”

Before either Pink Pearl or Tally Mark had a chance to respond, the front door flew open.

“Princess Aurora!”

The concerned voice belonged to Glass Eye. He rushed into the room, dripping from the rain, pausing only briefly to catch his breath and wipe his brow with a handkerchief. “I got on the train to Ponyville the moment I heard what had happened. They don’t ordinarily run this late, but given the circumstances….”

“You’ve… heard?” Aurora perked up, then lowered her eyes again in shame. “About everything?”

Glass Eye nodded politely, taking a short moment to greet Pink Pearl and Tally Mark as well. “Yes, your highness. Lantern Jaw filled me in. I still can’t quite believe it… Somnambula….”

“She’s one of your granddaughters, isn’t she?” asked Tally Mark.

“Indeed she is.” Glass Eye shook his head sadly and nervously. “I can’t imagine what’s come over her. Oh, I knew, I just knew it had been too long since I had last spoken with her… she had been so reclusive lately… and her sisters are going to be so terribly worried… oh dear, oh dear….”

He was beginning to fret. Aurora had never seen him so upset. It was disconcerting.

“She… she didn’t seem like herself,” the princess spoke up. Though her voice was still weak and morose, she tried her best to sound reassuring. “When I fought her, I mean. She didn’t sound at all like the pony I met yesterday, if that means anything. The way she spoke, it was as if something else were controlling her.”

There was a short silence as Aurora let her comment sink in. She sat up straighter, trying to regain some measure of dignity and authority now that Glass Eye was here – anything that might help him feel less ill at ease. Something about his grandfatherly presence made her feel a tad more at ease as well; it gave her something reliable and familiar to latch onto, a sense that she wasn’t completely lost and alone. Most importantly, it gave her somepony to worry about other than herself.

“Well… I suppose there might have been some sort of mind-control involved,” said Glass Eye. “Or perhaps she was just another changeling in disguise. Or maybe there was it was the work of some sort of an illusory spirit… I understand that many such spirits dwell in those woods….”

As he spoke, Aurora stared silently into the crackling red fireplace, taking a few more slow, cleansing breaths. “What’ll we tell the University now?” she asked. “Won’t her students notice that she’s gone?”

Glass Eye cleared his throat. “Somnambula’s… recent activity is currently an official state secret, as is Princess Corona’s kidnapping. In retrospect, I suppose it’s a good thing that you two didn’t leave the palace very often. Nopony will likely notice that your sister is gone for a while yet.”

The red firelight flickered in Aurora’s eyes. “We won’t let her stay gone any longer than we can help it,” she murmured, her voice low but firm.

“Er – beggin’ your pardon, highness,” said Pink Pearl, eyeing the princess with uncertainty, “but how do ya plan on doin’ that?”

“I’m concerned as well,” said Tally Mark. “The way you described the encounter, it sounds as if there’s no way of knowing where Somnambula went. How do you mean to find them now?”

At that moment, Ghost came ambling over towards the hearth, stirred awake by Glass Eye’s sudden entrance. Her appearance halted the conversation in its tracks, and the four ponies fell silent and watched her. She yawned a little yawn, smacked her lips, and looked up at Aurora with wide, expectant eyes, blinking at her through the stringy green mane that hung over her face. There seemed to be tinge of trepidation in her features, as though she weren’t quite certain how to feel towards this strange, dark-maned princess.

“F…friend?” she squeaked, clearly trying her hardest to keep her shrill voice under control.

“So you’re the ‘ghost’ that made me break my leg,” said Pink Pearl. She tried to muster up a glare, but it quickly softened as she gazed at the small, timid creature. She sighed. “Well. I guess you ain’t so scary after all, now that I can see you up close. And kinda cute, I gotta admit.”

“Ghost,” Aurora spoke up suddenly, struck by an idea. “You were there last night, weren’t you? You saw everything?”

Ghost nodded enthusiastically. “The Witch!” she squeaked. “The yellow bird!”

Hope flared up in Aurora’s heart, but she kept her cool. Her voice grew stern. “Do you remember where they went?”

“They gone… up! Over! Over the – the gray!!” shrieked Ghost, struggling to express herself. Then she frowned, obviously not satisfied with the words she had at her disposal. She grumbled incoherent gibberish to herself while Tally Mark and Glass Eye shared a skeptical glance. Aurora, putting aside her previous mistrust of the little changeling, leaned in close and spoke to her softly.

“Can you show us?”

Ghost hopped up from the fireside and trotted over to the door, looking back at the others in anticipation. “Follow?”

“Forgive me, your highness,” said Glass Eye, “but are you quite certain this creature can be trusted? After everything that’s happened….”

“Summer trusted her,” Aurora said. “That’s good enough for me.” She shook off the blanket and began to rise to her hooves.

“Are you well enough to walk, your highness?” asked Tally Mark.

“I think so.” Aurora rose, stretching her back and her wings, testing the strength in her sore legs. After exhausting her magical reserves in her battle the previous night, a few hours of rest seemed to have done some good: she could feel life and vigor seeping into her limbs again, filling her with new strength and new hope. She stood, shook her mane out of her face, and walked over to the door to follow Ghost.

Tally Mark shrugged, tentatively moving to follow the princess. Pink Pearl muttered some grouchy comment about not being able to come along, since she couldn’t very well leave her house with her leg still in a cast, but she wished the others well anyway. Glass Eye stood waiting for a moment, muttered, “Oh, dear,” again, and then finally started after them.

Aurora pushed the door open with a hoof, and Ghost shot out like a cat, leaping down the porch and heading for the long dirt road that ran to the Everfree. The princess paused for a short spell to breathe in the morning air. Now that the rain had passed, the world was fresh and dewy, and the gentle breeze that blew from the forest whispered in the apple trees and touched lightly upon her face. And in the distance, far to the east across the rolling hills of apple-orchard, the sky was beginning to turn pink and red as dawn crept slowly over the horizon.

Wait – dawn?

“The sun is rising?” Aurora exclaimed. “But – how? I completely forgot about raising it….”

“You know, your highness,” said Glass Eye, “in the time before the princesses, regular unicorns would raise the sun and the moon. And they still can, if group of powerful magicians work together. Before I left Canterlot, Lord Stargazer volunteered to organize just such a group.”

“Hmm,” Aurora grumbled as she climbed down from the porch and started after Ghost, who now stood waiting for them by the green-painted gate that marked the edge of Sweet Apple Acres. The mere mention of Stargazer was usually enough to sour her mood, but now was worse than usual: she had failed in her appointed task, and now Stargazer and his smug, elitist colleagues had to step in and do her job for her. He would be sure to rub her face in it whenever she returned to Canterlot.

Aurora scowled. Her burning resentment only seemed to further fuel her renewed sense of purpose. She quickly picked up her pace, following Ghost along the path towards the woods, with Tally Mark and Glass Eye trailing close behind them.

A few minutes of walking brought them to the forest. In the morning light, the path that had so oppressed and frightened Aurora two nights ago now seemed harmless and inoffensive. Though the trees still grew close and dense, the rain and wind had lent the forest air a new freshness and cleanness that made the whole wood feel at once more alive and less alien than before. Yellow daylight shone in bright shafts through the overhanging green boughs. Robins and cardinals darted here and there among the trees, singing merry songs that Aurora couldn’t help but smile at. Even Glass Eye, who had seemed hesitant to enter the forest in the first place, soon found himself smiling as well – or so it seemed to Aurora, since she still couldn’t quite see his mouth behind his bushy moustache.

“I must admit, this isn’t at all what I expected,” he said as they ambled along at a leisurely pace. “The way Princess Aurora described the forest in her report, I had pictured something much less….”

“…pleasant?” Tally Mark suggested, keeping pace beside him. “I know, sir. It’s really not as frightening as the stories suggest, at least in the daytime.”

He “smiled” at her knowingly. “You sound as though you know these woods rather well.”

“I do,” she said, smiling back in warm recollection. “I grew up in Ponyville, of course, and Pink Pearl was always gallivanting off into the woods, and I had to come along and make sure she didn’t get herself killed.” Her smile faded as her eyes turned to the princess walking several paces ahead of her. “But… she was never in any real danger. I can’t imagine what that would be like.”

Aurora heard what the mayor said, but made no comment.

After a few more quiet minutes of walking, they arrived at last at the ghost town. (To Aurora, it seemed a shorter trip than it had been last night, perhaps due to the less oppressive atmosphere.) Ghost, who had been leading them on in silence, suddenly raced to the other end of the square, where a narrow, winding path, strewn with rocks and overgrown with roots, began to rise northwards into a hilly region away from the crumbling buildings. With some effort she began climbing up the trail, flapping her insect wings furiously to struggle over a large log that lay in the way.

Aurora caught up with Ghost and lifted her over the log with a bit of magic. Looking up, she noticed now, for the first time, that shortly beyond the ruined village the land began to slope upwards, rising first in rolling foothills and then in sharp ridges towards the grim, gray mountain peaks that glowered down at her from beyond the forest.

“They went that way?” she asked the changeling.

Ghost nodded again. “They go up – went up! Over!!”

“Over the gray,” Aurora murmured. “So that’s what you meant. They went over the Drackenridge Mountains.”

“Mountains!” cried Ghost, pleased to have finally found the word she had been looking for.

Aurora turned back to Glass Eye, who had just caught up with them. The long walk and slight uphill climb had left him a tad winded. “What’s north of those mountains?” she asked him.

“The Griffon Kingdom, your highness,” he answered, pausing for a moment to catch his breath. “But only the far corner of it. There’s nothing north of those mountains but an icy wasteland. There would be nowhere for them to take shelter, no place they could possibly have gone, except… hmmm.”

He trailed off, and his brow furrowed into a grim glower. Aurora and Tally Mark looked on in anticipation as the gears turned in his mind.

“…Gloomhold,” he said at last, and the half-whispered name carried a strange, menacing weight. “Yes, Gloohmhold – perhaps that does make sense.”

“Gloomhold?” Aurora echoed worriedly.

“A small sovereignty within the Griffon Kingdom,” Glass Eye explained. “And one of Equestria’s most enigmatic and reclusive allies. For almost twenty years they’ve had minimal contact with the rest of the world, and our occasional diplomatic visitors have reported that the kingdom suffers from a perennial winter. Almost certainly, the weather is of magical origin. Very suspicious indeed.”

Ghost shivered. “Gloom… hold,” she croaked, slowly remembering the name. “The Witch goes there! Takes ponies. Took me once. Took me….” She began to tremble violently. Aurora, struck by a pang of sympathy, extended a comforting wing over the frightened creature. Her trembling slowed, and she leaned against the princess’s leg.

“That must be where the missing foals were taken,” said Tally Mark. She glared northward at the mountains with a quiet, slow-burning anger in her violet eyes. “How soon can something be done?”

Aurora raised her eyes again, glaring northward as well. Images were coming into her mind again: Corona lost and afraid and alone, locked in some dank, freezing prison, calling out for her. But now Aurora knew where she was. Now she could come to her rescue, blasting open the dungeon walls and setting her free, and they would be together again, and safe again, at last. Now something could finally be done. Something will be done….

Glass Eye cleared his throat. “Actually, Mayor,” he began, “as part of our renegotiations with the Griffon Kingdom, the Council elected to send a party of ambassadors there. They’re due to set out tomorrow, and arrive the next day – perhaps, in light of these revelations, it might be better if they performed their own investigation while they were there….”

The old unicorn’s voice broke Aurora out of her fantasy. She stopped, and shook her head, snapping back to her senses. “No – I mean, yes. You’re right, Glass Eye. That would probably be best. But I need to come, too.”

“Ah – but – hmmm,” Glass Eye stuttered, conflicted. “Forgive me, your highness, but you’re not the official sovereign yet. I don’t believe the Council would agree to allow you to go on a mission of diplomacy, let alone one of espionage.”

“Then convince them,” she snapped, surprising herself with her sudden sharpness. She paused for a moment to breathe. “Just… please. I need to do this. For Summer, for Somnambula, for the missing foals. It’s been my responsibility from the beginning. If I’m ever going to be official sovereign, I need to start acting like one. Please.”

“I’ll… I’ll do my best, your highness,” he said. He stepped forward and laid a comforting hoof on her shoulder. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise.”

Aurora nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered.

The princess heaved a tired sigh. Glass Eye’s comforting presence was invaluable to her, but right now, she felt that it wasn’t quite enough. Her mind was weary, a piece of her heart was missing, and the greater part of her still felt lonely and bewildered. Though Glass Eye had grown on her over her three months in the palace, he was still just another part of her new life, a life which she had not yet fully accepted; right now, she needed something more familiar, something closer to home. Another memory suddenly came into her mind: the suggestion she had made to Corona yesterday, when they had both been feeling overwhelmed and homesick.

“I’ve been feeling overwhelmed lately, like I’m in over my head. 　Just being home again, being somewhere safe and familiar… I think it would do us both a world of good.”

“Before we go back to Canterlot,” she spoke up at last, “there’s something I need to do first. Somewhere I need to go.”

“Of course, your highness,” said Glass Eye. “Anywhere you like.”

One short sky chariot ride later, Aurora found herself looking on a familiar sight.

Her destination, as it turned out, was not a great distance from Ponyville. She had asked the batponies to land the chariot at the edge of town to avoid attracting attention, and then set off by herself down a long, dusty dirt road ran through a field of dancing yellow lilies and into a shady grove of ancient elms and oaks. Beyond the concealing grove was a quiet neighborhood of fine old houses separated by spacious yards. Aurora’s heart nearly melted at the sight of it; it had been too long, far too long since last she’d been here.

The walk through the neighborhood was peaceful and quiet. A few ponies were out mowing their lawns or watering their gardens, and as Aurora approached them, she could see a flash of recognition in their faces before they bowed their heads respectfully. The princess smiled at them as she passed, but said nothing. By the time she reached her old home, the sun had reached its zenith, and the houses and yard lay beneath deep, cool shadows.

When she arrived, a pony was sitting on the porch of her old home. She was an earth pony mare, with a red coat and a wavy blonde mane tied up in a camouflage bandana, and a Cutie Mark on her hip in the shape of a drafting compass. On the table in front of her, a large, roughly-sketched map was spread out, and she scribbling away at it with a pencil held in her mouth, mumbling to herself all the while.

“Hmmm…. Three hundred feet of elevation between the New Saddle hillcrest and sea level… but that doesn’t take into account the Derbyshire depression, either…. Hmmm….”

She didn’t notice Aurora’s approach until a soft, delicate voice called out to her.

“Mom?”

Compass Point raised her head. Her jaw fell open, and the pencil dropped out of her mouth and clattered on the table. Her face lit up, her bright blue eyes widening in simultaneous surprise and joy. “Blue Moon? Is that you? Oh, darling it’s been so – oh wait, I’m sorry,” she suddenly stopped herself, standing up and bowing her head. “I mean, Princess, of course.”

“No – not princess,” said Aurora, stepping up on the porch to join her mother. “Not yet. But… but it’s really good to see you again.”

“Oh, you took the words right out of my mouth!” Compass Point practically squealed, sitting down and wrapping her forelegs around her daughter’s neck. Then she stepped back and looked her over. “Goodness, I’d forgotten how tall you are now! Don’t hit your head on the ceiling! Oh, and try not to poke any holes in it either! Haha!”

Aurora smiled – a thin, false smile. She had come bearing such terrible news, her mother’s oblivious joy was breaking her heart. Compass babbled on excitedly.

“I’d tell your father you’re here, but he’s out surveying the New Saddle Ridge over the weekend. Again. Would you believe he completely forgot to record the depth of the Derbyshire depression the first time around? Of course, of course, it’s just like him, that silly old stallion, bless his heart. I’ve been having to redraw everything.”

“Yes, that does sound like him,” said Aurora, struggling to get a word in. She could already feel her throat tightening. “Mom… there’s something I need to….”

“Oh! Silly me, I almost forgot to ask,” Compass laughed. “Where’s Summer – I mean, haha, where’s Princess Corona? Catching butterflies in the Canterlot Royal Gardens?”

Aurora bit her lip nervously. This was it. “Actually, Mom….” Her voice faltered.

Compass Point’s face fell. “What is it?” she asked quietly. “What’s wrong?”

Tears were gathering again in Aurora’s eyes. Now that she was here, now that she was home, now that she was just Blue Moon, a little filly coming to her mother for help… her defenses came crumbling down.

“She….”

Before she could get another word out, Aurora collapsed, weeping, into her mother’s embrace.

What followed was fifteen minutes of hugging, crying, and tearful explanations. Aurora told her mother the whole story from the beginning, pouring her heart out about her helplessness and homesickness and fear. Compass Point listened to every word, holding her daughter while she wept. Aurora thought she could feel her mother trembling slightly, obviously consumed with worry of her own, but she spoke nothing of it. All Compass would do was shush her gently and assure her that everything would be all right. Aurora wanted to believe her.

After what felt like hours, they parted, and Compass Point invited her daughter inside, sitting her down on a comfy old sofa and brewing some tea (jasmine, always Aurora’s favorite flavor). In short order, the princess – now feeling very much like a foal again – finally began to calm down, her tears now reduced to the occasional hiccup. The drink, the familiar living room, her mother’s presence all worked together to soothe the tempest in her mind. When she finished the tea, she set down the teacup on the low drawing-room table beside the sofa.

“I’m s-sorry, Mom,” said Aurora. “I should’ve listened to her. I – I should have been more careful. I wish I’d – I’d….”

“Please, dear,” Compass Point interrupted her gently. She sat across from her daughter on a large, thick cushion. “Please don’t be so hard on yourself. No part of this was your fault. Understand?”

“But I – ”

“Up-bup-bup!” Compass Point raised a hoof, halting Aurora’s protest. “Let me hear you say it: ‘No part of this was my fault.’”

“No… no part of this was my fault,” Aurora repeated weakly.

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“But it – it’s still my responsibility. I’m still supposed to take care of her. I still need to – ”

“You will, honey, you will. And I know – I know – that you’ll bring her back safe.”

Aurora sniffled. “What makes you so sure?” she asked dourly. “I couldn’t keep her safe before. I couldn’t save those foals, or stop Somnambula, or, or…..” She began to stutter, and hung her head sadly, letting her dark mane fall over her face. “I’m trying. I’m trying so hard, but so far… so far, I’ve done nothing to earn anypony’s faith in me.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then Aurora felt a hoof under her chin, lifting her head until her eyes were staring into her mother’s. Compass was smiling.

“Oh, Blue Moon… ever since you were a little filly, you’ve tried your hardest at everything you put your mind to, and you’ve worried yourself sick about living up to the standards you set for yourself. But now… now, I believe you can finally stop worrying.”

“Wh… why’s that?”

“You were chosen for a reason, Blue. Your father and I have always had faith that it was so. The Elements haven’t only given you a new destiny, they’ve given you a wonderful gift, you and your sister both: something to trust in. They wouldn’t put you up to this task without giving you the strength you need to carry it out. And I know, when the time is right, that they won’t let you down.”

“Hm.” Aurora gazed aside in reflection. “Glass Eye said something similar the other day, actually. ‘Everything I need, I’ve already been given.’ Something like that.” Then she sighed, and her sullen eyes fell to the floor. “But… I really don’t feel that way. I don’t feel that way at all.”

Compass Point climbed onto the sofa beside Aurora, allowing her daughter to rest her head against her withers. “You’ve always been kind, Blue. You’ve brought us so much laughter. You have such a generous heart. You’ve never been anything less than honest. And there’s nopony in Equestria who’s more loyal to the ponies she loves. I know the Elements are with you, whether you feel that way or not. Sooner or later, their power will shine through, if you let it. Just be patient. Have faith. And please, please don’t worry so much.”

Aurora sniffled one last time, wiping a tear from her eye. “I’ll bring her back safe,” she whispered at last. “I promise.”

Compass Point smiled. “I know you will. I believe.”

Aurora nodded, raising her head again with new confidence, and new purpose. If this was the task the Elements of Harmony had charged her with, so be it. She would prove to herself, if to nopony else, that they hadn’t made a mistake. She would be the princess that she was meant to be. She would live up to her responsibilities, no matter how hard the journey.

And she would bring her sister home.

13: Open Insurrection

Ragnar Blacktalon’s skill lay in seizing the opportunities that presented themselves and exploiting them to their fullest potential. This was something that had attracted Frostbane to him in the first place; he seemed like the kind of leader capable of building a nation that was wealthy, powerful, and secure, despite the limited resources at his disposal. His territory was not very wide, his army was small, and, despite the rich diamond mines he held within his domain, Gloomhold was not exactly an economic powerhouse. But every so often, a golden opportunity would come along, seemingly through sheer serendipity, and Blacktalon would seize it and use it to such great and terrible ends that he seemed less like the king of a small principality and more like some dread overlord of legend.

First had been the Windigo Stone. Frostbane and her renegade band had found it while wandering in the mountains years ago, before they had ever sought refuge in the castle of Gloomhold. She discovered it in the heart of an ancient mountain cave where her small company was taking shelter from a winter storm. Whether the stone was a natural phenomenon or the work of some ancient sorcerer, none knew, but its unique magical properties granted its wielder a small measure of control over those horrendous winter-spirits known to history as the Windigos. Long thought to have fled beyond the circles of the world, they lived on, barely, in the mountainous northern wastes, far from any civilization on which they could feed.

Blacktalon couldn’t wield it himslef; his own natural hatred was too fierce, and the added power of Windigos threatened to overwhelm him. But Frostbane, with her steely composure and frigid demeanor, mastered it with ease. At the king’s suggestion, they covered the lands surrounding Gloomhold in an everlasting winter, driving foreigners away and ensuring his subjects’ total dependence on the king’s rations for sustenance. More importantly, it reinforced in the minds of the denizens of the north a sense that the present government was unchanging and eternal.

Their second windfall had been the discovery of Kyrie the Songbird. Unlike the Windigo Stone, Blacktalon was able to hold Kyrie entirely within his grasp. His pride and rage, the very characteristics that made him unfit to wield the Windigos’ power, were so great that they burned through the Songbird’s spell whenever she tried to cast it on him, leaving her completely, hopelessly unable to make him tell her where he was holding her precious hatchlings captive. For their sake, she hypnotized not only many of the king’s courtiers and subjects, but also hundreds, then thousands of griffon peasants into serving their ruler with tireless bliss. Then Blacktalon set them to work in the mines. Productivity rose tenfold.

Between the endless winter and the hordes of happy miners, there was no possibility of revolt or unrest, a steady supply of income through mass diamond exports, and borders so safe that no power dared assail them. Gloomhold was secure, impenetrable, self-perpetuating, eternally unchanging. And that suited Blacktalon just fine.

General Frostbane shivered. The cold mountain air was nearly unbearable, and though the cave partially sheltered her from the wind, stray frigid blasts still nipped at her torn, ragged ears. The long, bitter hike from the castle into the mountains had nearly worn her out, hardy though she was, and with great effort of will she fought the urge to lie down on the cold, bare rock of the cavern floor and sleep. Narrowing her eyes into slits, she glared out of the mouth of the cave into the storm and steeled herself, summoning all her willpower. She reached up, placing a gentle hoof on the small, blue crystal she wore on a pendant around her neck. Then, after taking in a lungful of icy air, she bowed her head and began to chant under her breath.

“Boreas… Caisias….”

The blue stone flashed like lightning, and a crystalline ring resounded among the rocks. Moments later, a high-pitched whistle began to run through the air, accompanied by an electrical thrill that made the hairs on Frostbane’s back stand on end.

“Thraskias… Aparctias….”

The wind picked up, whipping her blue mane about her face, growing slowly and steadily from a stiff breeze to a fierce gale to a near-hurricane. A strange, animalistic howling echoed down from the north, growing louder and louder with every passing second as the air grew chillier. The crystal now burned with an icy, blue fire. The pegasus chanted on.

“Skeiron… Argestes….”

The wind howled and moaned horribly. Frostbane could feel granules of ice forming on her brow. Cautiously, she opened her eyes and looked up: ghostly figures raced in mesmerizing circles through the swirling snow above her, pale-white and translucent and vaguely horse-shaped. Their eyes glowed with an unearthly light. They lingered, circling like carrion birds over Frostbane’s head, as though waiting for some word of command.

The general shut her eyes again, blocking out the cold and noise, reaching out with her mind to seize the otherworldly presences in her grasp. “Now… you will listen… to me….”

Slowly, mechanically, without opening her eyes, she moved her legs – left, right, left, right – and began to walk from the mouth of the cave and followed the long, rocky path that led back down from the mountains. Though she couldn’t see them, she knew the Windigos followed her; she could hear their howling voices, and feel their frigid presence sending chills along her spine. Crackling ice began to form on the ground beneath her hooves, but she treaded carefully and kept her balance. Soon she found it necessary to open her eyes again, lest she stumble on a stray rock or patch of ice.

For half a mile the path led along the side of cliff, sloping constantly downwards, until Frostbane found herself at the edge of a tiny cliff-dwelling settlement. It was not much to look at, consisting of a few small huts and gryphon eyries, nestled cozily in deep, sheltered niche in the mountainside. The road led through the niche and on downwards to the castle of Gloomhold about another half-mile distant. She knew the place well: it was an outpost maintained by Blacktalon’s loyalist soldiers and guards. And it would suit her purposes perfectly.

Once again, she closed her eyes and lowered her head. With her mind she reached out to the Windigos, instilling in them a single thought, a single command. They resisted, bucking about wildly, snorting and howling. Frostbane could feel their rage coursing through her veins, but she gritted her teeth and strove against them with all her willpower.

“No… I… am in control…."

At last they gave way. There was a sudden, terrible rush of freezing air, blustering around Frostbane like an express train, ruffling her feathers and frosting the tips her wings. It barreled past her into the outpost, and for a few dizzying, terrifying moments, a piercing, ghastly wail filled the air, like a thousand timberwolves raising their voices in agony and fear. Frostbane trembled, shaken to her core, as the noise resounded along the cliffs and the mountainside shuddered along with her.

Then silence settled on the mountains like a heavy blanket, and all was ominously still.

Frostbane breathed in, and out. She opened one eye, then the other. The houses and eyries of the cliff-dwelling were frosted over, buried beneath impenetrably thick layers of ice. Jagged white icicles hung from open doorways, and here and there a griffon warrior stood, trapped from head to tail in a block of solid ice, their faces frozen in ghastly expressions of fear. Whether they were dead, or merely preserved alive within the ice, Frostbane couldn’t tell.

But the test was a success. It had worked.

She heaved a heavy sigh of relief, her breath misting in the cold air.

She could do it. She control the Windigos on a fine-tuned level, but just barely; the amount of willpower that it required pushed her nearly to her limits. There had been so much hate, such an overpowering sense of loathing and contempt and unbridled rage, and the more strongly she tried to master the spirits, the more she felt it flooding into her, flowing through her, washing over her like a tidal wave. If her concentration had slipped, even for a moment, she would have been overwhelmed. It would be at least a day, she was sure, before she could muster up the strength of will to attempt controlling them on that level again. But, for now, the knowledge that she could do it was enough. It would serve as a tool for securing power. If Kyrie’s mind control were lifted from the populace of Gloomhold, only fear of being frozen solid would keep them in line.

And – if worst came to worst – it might be her only weapon against the princesses of Equestria.

Based on what Somnambula had told her, Frostbane knew there was no chance that the Equestrians wouldn’t put two and two together. Surely, they would assume their princess was taken as a political hostage; surely, they would notice Gloomhold’s proximity to the Everfree Forest; surely, their magicians would have ways of locating their missing monarch, and confirming that she was being held prisoner by the griffons. If their wrath came down upon this little kingdom, old Blacktalon would have neither the strength nor the subtlety to keep them alive. By the same token, even if she employed her power over the Windigos to protect Gloomhold, it would only strengthen the soldiers’ loyalty to their triumphant king. She would have lost her chance at seizing power for good.

“It’s not quite ready,” she murmured to herself, setting off down the path again towards Gloomhold. “But it’ll have to do.”

She proceeded through the frozen outpost and never once looked back.

Though Frostbane could hardly bear to admit it to herself, she was afraid now, genuinely afraid. Was she really going to go through with this plan? Not long ago it had seemed like a mere pipe-dream; even when she had told her daughter about it yesterday, she had barely believed in it as anything more than a distant aspiration – something she meant to do eventually, perhaps soon, but not yet, not now. And now here she was, setting it all into motion today, and a part of her was desperately afraid that it might actually happen, and there would be no stopping it, no turning back if things started to go wrong. Doubts began to assail her mind, and her exhausted willpower could barely keep them at bay. She picked up her pace down the mountain path.

The gates of Gloomhold received her in silence. The word had already been given, and her closest followers had been ordered to make ready and wait for her instructions. With the Equestrian ambassadors arriving tomorrow, she had no more time to prepare: it was now or never. The moment the castle gates boomed shut behind her, Midnight Tempest, her favorite lieutenant, was at her side, inclining his head in a respectful bow. He was a black-coated pegasus with a long, free-flowing mane of sky blue, and a stern face that looked as if it had been carved in wood.

“Is it time, General?” he asked.

“It’s time,” she answered coolly, not allowing her voice to betray her inner turmoil. “Is everypony in position?”

“All of them, ma’am. We have agents in place from the Upper Spires to the Underhold. If panic breaks out, we’ll keep things under control.” As he spoke, a small guard of seven or eight armored pegasi emerged from the shadowy alcoves that surrounded the gatehouse. There were a few griffons among them as well, former loyalists to Blacktalon who were perceptive enough to know that the tides were turning. They bore spears and crossbows. “We’re ready to move when you are,” said Tempest, speaking for the whole troop.

“Where’s Quila?”

“In her chambers, ma’am. I’ve dispatched Sundiver to look out for her. When it’s time for her to take the throne, she’ll be ready.”

“Good.” Frostbane nodded, and began striding across the stone floor towards the throne room. Quila’s safety was of vital importance: while the griffons of the north would never accept a pony as a ruler, they would gladly follow the daughter of Blacktalon, despite her mixed heritage. “Make… make certain she’s safe,” Frostbane added after a pause. She was surprised at the sound of her own voice; mixed in with the uncertainty and fear was a slight tinge of tenderness. Tempest didn’t notice it.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered. He and the other ponies and griffons followed the general, their armor clanking quietly in the quiet, torch-lit halls.

“Have you found it yet?” Frostbane asked Tempest as they walked.

“Not yet, ma’am. It’s possible he’s not keeping it in Gloomhold. There are a number of catacombs and abandoned mines in the mountains where it might be hidden. I don’t think we’ll likely find it without the king’s assistance.”

“As I feared,” said Frostbane, sighing. This necessitated another, potentially troublesome stage of her plan, though in truth she hadn’t expected any less. She was prepared. “Well, then,” she said, stopping before the throne room. “Let’s… let’s get this over with.”

Frostbane raised a hoof and silently pushed open the great wooden doors.

A small griffon came scurrying out, coughing quietly. “Ah! General,” she said, noticing Frostbane and her retainers. She bowed slightly.

“Opinicus?”

“He’s – er, His Majesty has something he wanted to show you.” She coughed again. “He’s just inside.”

Frostbane’s troop backed away, crouching in the shadows as Opinicus scurried on down the hall and out of sight. Tempest and the general shared a curious glance. Then she gave him a nod, a silent order to wait outside until her signal when the crucial moment came. Cautiously, Frostbane proceeded into the throne room, letting the great heavy doors shut behind her with a boom.

Blacktalon was within, as Opinicus had said. He stood a little distance from his throne, gazing at a hanging tapestry on the south wall, wearing a familiar smug grin on his face. In the center of the room, a red fire glowed and crackled in its wide circular pit, sending hazy smoke up into the high ceiling. And beyond that, two dark, burly griffons stood on either side of the dais, armored and spear-armed, their faces steely and expressionless. At this Frostane raised an eyebrow: in all the years since Blacktalon had been using Kyrie’s enchantment to control his followers, he had never seen it necessary to keep guards in the throne room. Why this sudden increase in security?

“Welcome again, dear,” Blacktalon said, not even bothering to look her way. His eyes were still fixed on the tapestry. “You do seem to go into the mountains an awful lot these days. Trouble with the Windigos?”

“No, no trouble,” Frostbane answered cautiously, making her way over to his side. “Just some heavy weather in the south. I wanted to be certain it wouldn’t disrupt our enchantment.” She glanced up at the long, narrow tapestry. It was a luxuriant, richly detailed depiction of the court of some mythical griffon monarch. Though she had lived in Gloomhold for nearly two decades, her knowledge of griffon culture was still spotty in places, and she couldn’t identify the figures depicted.

“You like it?” asked the king, noticing her interest. “The weavers completed it just this morning. Exquisite, don’t you think? It’s the legend of King Singold Firebrand.”

The pegasus looked the tapestry over. At the top was a huge black griffon with a heavy golden crown, seated on a granite throne, and below him were many soldiers and courtiers. Red fire blazed from the king’s eyes, setting some of the smaller griffons aflame, and they were writhing about in torment. Frostbane furrowed her brow. “I don’t know that one.”

“It’s a fascinating tale,” said Blacktalon. “Singold’s people were proud and greedy, and they sought to overthrow their king, usurp his throne and plunder his rightful wealth. But he was craftier than they were, and stronger, and in the end, those who threw in their lots with the traitors were all granted the privilege of burning together.”

“Interesting story.”

“It should be.” Blacktalon smirked. “They say all myths contain a fragment of truth.”

There was a short, heavy silence. Blacktalon’s orange eyes looked down at Frostbane with his usual smugness and contempt, but now she could sense a certain unease and doubt in them as well – a kind of searching, probing look. It unnerved her.

Frostbane coughed. “Actually, Your Majesty,” she began, “there was something I meant to speak with you about. Something rather urgent.”

“Hmmm?”

“With the Equestrian ambassadors arriving tomorrow, it seems… well, there are likely to be many changes – political, military, and so forth – I was wondering if it might be a good time for some internal changes as well.”

“Changes, hmm?” The king stroked his chin thoughtfully with a long, black talon. Frostbane couldn’t tell whether or not his interest was feigned, but when he spoke again, there was a tiny hint of knowing mockery in his voice. “What sort of… changes did you have in mind?”

“Well, one in particular, really,” Frostbane began, but she could feel her voice wavering. She suddenly felt very unsure of herself. Something seemed to be tugging at the corner of her consciousness, something other than simple worry, but she couldn’t quite put her hoof on it. The feeling of Blacktalon’s eyes crawling over her nearly made her squirm, but there was something else….

Clearing her throat, she continued, “I thought it might be beneficial if we both knew the location of Kyrie’s nest – for security purposes, of course. In case something ill befell either one of us, it would ensure that there’s someone still holding her leash.”

“Mh-hmm,” Blacktalon nodded. “Sounds reasonable, I suppose.” He fell silent for a moment. Frostbane’s discomfort deepened, but now she sensed that it was more than just her own anxiety. She felt as though some force, some outside power, were assaulting her exhausted will. When the king spoke again, his words froze her to the core. “Are you quite certain that’s your only reason for suggesting it?”

“Y-yes,” Frostbane stammered out with great effort, now quite surprised at herself. Why had it been so difficult for her to lie? A powerful dizziness began to overtake her, but she fought against it with what little strength she had left. “W-why do you ask?”

“Well. You seem a little discombobulated.” By now Blacktalon’s voice had dropped any pretense of interest and descended into sheer mockery. “You’re not worried about something, are you? A little out of sorts? A little uncertain about the future?” His smirk deepened into a dark, scornful glare, and he lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. “A little scared that your harebrained coup won’t work out as you had hoped?”

Frostbane gasped, trembling. Whatever was taking control of her mind had robbed her of all her composure. Her muscles were turning to water, and her legs shook beneath her. “What – what makes you say that?”

There was a soft rustle of feathers. “A little birdie told me,” the king chuckled darkly.

It was Kyrie. She fluttered down and perched on Blacktalon’s muscled shoulder, singing her low, sad song so quietly that Frostbane hadn’t been able to make it out over the conversation and the crackling fire. She could already feel the music at work, more clearly now than before. It was warm, intoxicating, soothing, the very opposite of the freezing hatred she had felt in the mountains. Her mental resistance crumbled and her fear and anguish slowly boiled away into nothing….

“You think I didn’t notice, did you? The endless trips to the mountains, the changes in the weather, the chatter amongst the soldiers. Our small, yellow friend here was kind enough to indulge me and… eavesdrop here and there on your conversations. She’s really quite the useful little tool.”

For an instant, Frostbane’s instincts told her to run, to fight, to do anything at all, but, now… strangely… it just didn’t bother her that Blacktalon knew. On the contrary, she felt very much at peace and happy now that her secret was out, as if an unimaginable burden had been lifted from her back. This wasn’t bad at all, really. What had she been so worried about? She could simply tell the king everything, her entire plan from beginning to end, and everything would work out just fine, everything would be fine….

Then the throne room doors opened. “Pardon – *cough* – pardon me, Your Majesty,” rasped a familiar voice, “but the weavers sent me back to ask which side of the tapestry you wanted to – ah!”

There was a great bustling and clanking of armor as Frostbane’s small troop rushed from their hiding places into the throne room, knocking the lowly servant out of their path. Opinicus’s timely interruption and surprised gasp were the only cues they needed to know that something was amiss. All together they stopped short, shocked to see their general frozen in a mesmerized stupor, but wasted no further time moving into action.

Two crossbows twanged. Before either of the king’s guards had time to so much as raise their spears, thick steel bolts struck their unprotected throats with two muted thwucks. They slumped over, their steel armor crashing loudly on the stone floor.

Blacktalon’s smug face fell into an expression of shock, and Kyrie’s song ceased abruptly. Frostbane shook herself, coming back to her senses. The sensation of having her will overridden by magic left her with even less mental stamina than before, but she fought back the weariness in her mind and turned to face Blacktalon, cold anger burning in her eyes. Behind her, her soldiers moved into a semicircle around the king, cornering him against the wall. The crossbow-bearing griffons all trained their weapons on him, and the ponies raised their hoof-axes, preparing to move forward and strike if duty called.

“I – I had hoped we wouldn’t have to find out this way,” Frostbane said, doing her best to recover some semblance of authority, “but I need to know. Where’s Kyrie’s nest? Where are her hatchlings?”

There was a pregnant pause as Blacktalon’s eyes moved across the scene, making scornful contact with the eyes of every one of his betrayers. Then he let out a dark, sinister chuckle, and his beak curled into a smirk again. “Kyrie,” he said, addressing the bird, “Why don’t you put on another concert for our gathered friends? All of them, at once!”

Kyrie looked back and forth – first at Blackatlon’s confident smirk, then at Frostbane’s cold, determined eyes, then at the soldiers and their spears, hoof-axes, and crossbows, all pointed at the king.

Then she turned and flew away, darting through the doorway and vanishing from sight.

“What?!” roared Blacktalon. “How dare you? Get back here!”

“Looks… looks like she’s ready for your reign to come to an end,” said Frostbane. “As are we all. Where is her nest?”

The king eyed Frostbane with contempt. “They won’t follow you,” he said, ignoring her question. “My subjects will never bow to a little pony.”

“No, they won’t. But they’ll follow Quila.”

“Quila? Oh, of course. Her.” The king laughed. “The little whelp. How old is she again? Fifteen, sixteen? I’m sure our fair realm would rather see her on the throne than me. And I don’t see what you hope to achieve, trading one Blacktalon for another, dragging my legacy into the next age of our kingdom. Hardly seems like a proper revolution.”

“She’ll be my legacy.” A harsh, icy edge crept into Frostbane’s voice. Something in Blacktalon’s words stung her deeply. “Your legacy will be a long, dark chapter of cruelty and contempt in our record books. Now, where’s Kyrie’s nest?”

“If this is how you with for our relationship to end,” Blacktalon continued, “then so be it. But I’ll tell you nothing.” He took two slow, almost unnoticeable steps forward, and his eyes began to dart about, but his contemptuous voice remained steady. “When your precious little Quila falls to pieces from the strain, when the peasants rise up against your half-breed ruler, when your rebellion is consumed by the very fires you yourselves started… then you can all burn together.”

Frostbane glowered at him. “I thought you said the wise king plans for tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow.”

“The wise king protects what’s rightfully his!”

What happened next happened too quickly for Frostbane’s tired, sluggish reflexes to prevent. In a swift, sudden movement, Blacktalon’s huge claws seized her by her mane and dragged her body between himself and the soldiers. Another set of his black talons clasped her hind leg, his nails sinking into her flesh, holding her in place with an iron grip. She gritted her teeth and fought back a scream as the pain shot through her limb. The crossbow-wielding griffons lowered their arms, unsure how to proceed, and Frostbane’s fellow pegasi, unwilling to risk harm to their general, stood in furious impotence and glared daggers at the king.

“You chose her over me, did you?” Blacktalon snarled, glaring back fiercely at the would-be revolutionaries. His right hand released Frostbane’s mane, then closed around the nape of her neck. His grip tightened. “Well, I will offer you no such choice. One move, any of you – and I’ll snap her neck like a – GAH!”

The huge griffon let out a cry of pain as Frostbane’s sharp back hoof came down up his unprotected tail. Instinctively he released his grip, and the general hobbled away from him as quickly as she could with her injured leg. The griffons took this for an opening, and squeezed their triggers.

Responding with demonic swiftness, Blacktalon leapt up with one beat of his huge black wings. The colossal gust of air knocked the crossbow bolts from their courses, and they clattered against the walls and floor. With another swift motion he seized the long, narrow tapestry behind him with his beak and tore it from the wall. While the griffons reloaded their crossbows, the king flew over their heads and let one end of the tapestry fall into the fire-pit at the center of the room. He pulled it out again, brandishing the flaming strip of cloth in his right talon like whip. Now he was armed.

Frostbane cursed herself for not donning her armor beforehoof. She hadn’t expected a fight; now everything was falling apart. Blacktalon was huge and fierce, and if he escaped the throne room he would surely find support from his countless loyal guards and brainwashed slaves. The revolution would be over within the hour, and she and her pegasi could look forward to days of torment and gruesome executions in the Underhold. Hobbling, she rose to her feet, eyeing the battle that was beginning overhead with an almost panicked desperation.

Midnight Tempest and the other pegasi took flight, brandishing their hoof-axes for aerial combat, but Blacktalon’s great strength and speed and his cunning, clever use of his improvised weapon kept them at bay. One soldier took a blinding stroke to the face, and another had his wings scorched, forcing him to land in searing pain. Two more took deep slashing wounds from the king’s iron-hard black claws. Opinicus, who had stood observing the whole spectacle in silent terror, now turned and fled from the throne room.

At last Frostbane made it into the air, her mane whipping about her face from the fierce winds the battle was generating. Her eyes fell immediately on the two royal guards who lay dead on either side of the dais, their unused spears resting at their sides. Quick as lightning she shot across the room and picked up a spear between her teeth, gripping it about halfway across the shaft. It was unwieldy, and made it difficult to balance in flight, but it was better than no weapon at all.

As Blacktalon prepared to catch Tempest’s wings with his flaming whip, Frostbane rocketed back across the room, executing a spinning, downwards turn at the crucial moment to allow the broad-bladed spear to slice his right wing right at the base, tearing through muscle and sinew with a spurt of red. Issuing another loud cry, the griffon king’s wings seized up in pain, and he fell, crashing to the stone floor just beside the fire-pit.

Frostbane touched down in front of him, panting heavily from the strain of battle, letting the spear fall to the floor at her hooves. The other ponies landed nearby, keeping back and watching in breathless anticipation as Blacktalon began to pick himself up.

He didn’t speak. He only looked at Frostbane, and something she saw in his eyes made her stop short. Gone were the scorn and contempt and smugness that had always infuriated her; now, she saw only feebleness, cowardice, pleading. He was afraid to die, perhaps for the first time in his life. But it wasn’t the sentiment in his eyes that stopped her. In those deep black mirrors she saw her own reflection, her scowling face, her bared teeth, her own violet eyes burning with a cruel, cold fire. She could see in her own face the same monstrous hatred that had nearly overwhelmed her in the mountains.

Frostbane hesitated. Something, some alien sensation was slipping past her defenses and into her heart again, as it had the day before when she spoke to her daughter. She looked again at Blacktalon’s face, at the fearful, pitiful creature trembling before her, and wondered whether she really had it in herself to end his pathetic life.

Then, all at once, a voice echoed in her mind, a faint, howling whisper, uncannily similar to the cries of the Windigos, as though heard from a hundred miles away. But the voice was unmistakably Blacktalon’s, and its words struck her to her very core, stirring her rage and hatred into a sudden, overpowering frenzy.

Quila? Oh, of course. Her. The little whelp.

The little whelp.

Frostbane did not speak. She simply wheeled around and bucked the king in the chest as hard as she could. He staggered on his hind legs, wavered on the brink, lost his balance, and tumbled backwards into the fiery pit.

More crossbows twanged, silencing Blacktalon’s agonized screams. Moments later, a thick, dark smoke that reeked of burning flesh and feathers filled the throne room to the roof.

“We… we can all burn together,” Frostbane murmured in a feverish daze. Her bleeding leg was screaming at her in pain, her fears and worries boiled over in a sickening nervous surge, and her weary, worn-out will slipped quickly and quietly out of her grasp. She swayed and stumbled. Her harrowed mind finally caved in on itself, and everything went black.

Ten minutes later, Frostbane stood in the hallway, staring sullenly at the floor while a medic wrapped a bandage around her wounded leg. Tempest, the only one of her followers who had survived the scuffle without injury, trotted over to her side.

“Any more orders, ma’am?”

Slowly, Frostbane raised her tired, aching head to look back at him. “Lock up the Witch, for one thing,” she said, her voice quiet and oddly serene. “She’s too much of a variable in this equation. We can’t have her interfering with tomorrow’s business.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And keep searching for the bird’s nest. Search everywhere. The Underhold, the catacombs, the mines, the king’s bedchambers. No one will hinder your search now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And – and make certain Quila is all right.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He trotted briskly away, and Frostbane went back to staring at the floor. The frenzied jitter of combat had worn off, leaving only a dull, muted emptiness in its place. She heaved an exhausted sigh – partly of relief, and partly of some other feeling which she couldn’t quite put a name to. It was done now, it was over, and power over Gloomhold was securely hers. And yet, in some deeply buried part of her soul, she felt utterly defeated. She had set her plan in motion; there truly was no stopping it now.

In less than an hour, the word was out, spreading like wildfire through the castle and the surrounding countryside.

Ragnar Blacktalon was dead. Quila Warwing was the new queen of Gloomhold.

Kyrie the Songbird, however, was nowhere to be found.

14: Inner Light

Despite their divergent interests, Blue Moon and Summer Sun were alike in more ways than they were different. They were instinctively compassionate, they laughed frequently, and they both loved stories. Consequently, one habit they quickly developed was reading books together. Summer especially loved it when Blue would read to her, and on warm summer days, when sun was shining and the air was just right, she would spent hours in a stretch lying under that beautiful old oak in their backyard while Blue’s familiar voice carried her into other worlds. And Blue, though she liked to think of herself as a grown-up, was still very much a filly. No matter how much she claimed to value hard work and study, at the end of the day she’d rather read adventure novels with her sister than pore over books of geography. Summer had no end of fun teasing her about this.

But sometimes Blue would take it upon herself try new things, just because she liked the challenge; this was often how the sisters came to discover new activities that they both enjoyed. But, as Summer eventually noted, it was always Blue who had new ideas, took the first step, and then went back and helped Summer along. For instance, their mother, a proficient gardener, once taught Blue how to plant watermelon seeds, and how to cultivate the growing vines. The next day, on a sweltering afternoon in late May, Blue took Summer out to the garden and walked her through the same steps.

“See, you need to plant them under little ‘hills,’ like this,” said Blue, pushing some dirt into a mound over the spot where Summer had just buried a seed.

Summer looked on enthusiastically. “Cool! Er… why’s that?”

“For drainage, and to absorb more sunlight,” Blue explained, wiping some sweat from her brow with a foreleg. “Mom says we need to space them about two feet apart, so….”

“Got it. I’m on it!” Summer moved to scrape another shallow hole in the earth with her hoof, dropping a single large, black seed inside. She covered the hole with dirt again and patted it down, beaming proudly. With Blue’s help, she piled the dirt into a small mound, covering the seed’s resting place. The two of them repeated this process until a total of six seeds had been planted, the makings of a modest watermelon patch.

“Sweet!” Summer said as she surveyed her work. She paused to wipe away some sweat from her own forehead. “Do you think we can water them now?”

“Um… I don’t think so,” Blue answered. “Mom said these kind of melons get enough water from the rain. They don’t need any extra.”

“Oh.” Summer’s face fell in disappointment. It was miserably hot, and she had been looking forward to bringing out the garden hose. “Are you sure we can’t, y’know… help speed things along? Just a little?”

“Hmm. I don’t know about that,” Blue said, pausing briefly to think. In the tall grass on the far side of the yard, cicadas chirped away furiously, reacting to the great heat. A thin, wispy cloud passed in front of the sun, providing precious shade for a fleeting moment before passing again.

At last Blue sighed. “Well, I guess it couldn’t hurt,” she said. Then she grinned. “Yeah, let’s do it. Go ahead and get the hose!”

“Yes!” Summer cheered, and happily obliged.

While Summer ran off to fetch the hose, Blue returned inside for a minute to find something cold to drink. Her father, knowing how hot it was, had graciously set two glasses of lemonade on the kitchen counter. Blue accepted hers gratefully, and went back outside to tell Summer. What she saw when she made it back outside, however, caused her to stop in her tracks.

“Summer!” Blue cried, suddenly springing off the back porch and racing towards her sister. “That’s too much water! You’re gonna drown the seeds – ”

That was all she managed to get out before her hoof fell into a deep mud puddle that all of the excess hose water was draining into. The splash was huge, spattering muddy water in every direction – including Summer’s.

“Heh, hey! Watch it!” The yellow filly laughed, recoiling as mud splashed onto her face. Then she turned on Blue with the hose, grinning like a predator, and hissed at her through gritted teeth. “Okay, Blue. Let’s see how YOU like it!”

What followed was five intense minutes of splashing, struggling for control of the hose, icy water flying in all directions, and a great deal of laughter. By the afternoon’s end, not a single watermelon seed remained properly planted, but neither of the two fillies seemed to care very much. The water-battle had proved a better respite from the heat than a simple glass of lemonade could possibly offer.

As things began to wind down, Summer laughed delightedly, though her smile began to fade as she looked over the mess they had made. Their attempt at a watermelon patch was now a muddy, swampy jumble of overturned earth. Here and there, large black seeds could be seen floating in the mud puddles, totally dislodged from their places of planting. The weight of what she had done suddenly fell upon her, and she turned to her sister with sad, apologetic eyes.

“Oh, gosh, Blue,” said Summer. “I’m... I’m sorry for making such a mess. You were really excited about this, weren’t you? And I messed it all up.” Her head fell in shame. “I mean, I enjoyed planting the seeds and everything, but it was just so hot, and I thought….”

“No, really, it’s all right,” Blue assured her. She took a moment to shake the water out of her sopping mane, and then smiled a sincere, thankful smile. “We had a lot of fun. I guess that’s what’s important. We can work on fixing it tomorrow, if you want. I’m just glad you thought of this today.”

Summer smiled back, pleased simply to have made her sister happy in spite of her mistakes. “Thanks, Blue.”

Blue laughed. “No, Summer. Thank you.”

Corona awoke to the sound of singing.

Even before she opened her eyes, she recognized the voice, though it clearly didn’t belong to a pony. It sang a sweet, wordless tune, a lilting melody that wrapped itself around her heart like a warm scarf. She knew she had heard it once before – in a dream, perhaps? She just couldn’t remember. In fact, she could barely remember anything at all. Her head ached, and mind was too muddled and hazy to form any clear pictures. She felt the way she often did on mornings when her sleep had been deep and restful, like awakening from a month-long coma, though she couldn’t ignore the gnawing hunger in her stomach.

Her eyes fluttered open. Everything around her looked dark and out-of-focus. She could tell now that she lay on a cold stone floor in what seemed to be a dank dungeon cell, and her legs ached from the unevenness and hardness of her resting place. Red firelight flickered from some unseen source, and by its warm glow she could make out other figures, small pony-shapes, lying on the floor around her. At the far end of the cell was a tall row of iron bars, and beyond the bars….

She tried to sit up, shaking her head groggily. One of the figures that stood outside of the cell was unfamiliar, to her – a griffon, it looked like, clad in steel armor with a grim, gray helmet covering his head. But perched atop his helmet was another figure, one that Corona was sure she recognized: a golden bird with beady, glowing red eyes. It was singing, guiding Corona out of her slumber with its music.

Corona blinked. She knew she had seen that bird recently, but she couldn’t quite place it. Her mind was a blank; she didn’t know where she was, or how she had gotten here. She tried to think back, and found nothing in her memory but a vast blackness. She couldn’t even remember where she had been when she had lost consciousness, or how. A quiet fear began to worm its way into her heart, but she was still too sleep-addled for it to take hold of her.

Then her bleary eyes fell upon the griffon’s face. It was impassive, frozen like a statue, and in his eyes a faint red light glowed, the very same color as the bird’s beady eyes. For a moment she stared in curiosity, struck by the image that seemed so familiar. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, everything came back to her at once.

Somnambula. Ghost. The missing foals. Ponyville. The Everfree Forest. The storm. The yellow bird. Blue. Blue!

Blue… please… help….

The fear in her heart blossomed into terror. Now she remembered. She had been deceived. Then hypnotized. Then kidnapped. All because she thought she could take care of the Ponyville situation by herself. Her chest tightened, her breathing grew quick and shallow. Trembling, she rose to her hooves, wincing and gritting her teeth as pain shot through her sore legs. Her eyes, now wide and panicked, darted rapidly about the room in search of something – she didn’t know what – before settling again on the golden bird and the griffon. They stared back at her, unmoving.

“H-hey, w-w-where am I?” she stammered out, not sure which of the two she should address. Her frightened voice sounded very much like a young foal’s. “W-what’s going on? Why are you doing this? What do you want?”

The griffon said nothing. The bird, however, began to sing again. But this time the song was different. It was gentle, mournful, bittersweet, and delicately beautiful, with a tune like an old folk melody played on celestial pan-pipes. The crystal-clear voice seemed almost tangible now, reaching out and touching Corona’s mind, slipping past her panicked exterior and resonating somewhere deep within. And it carried images with it, and feelings: unfamiliar scenes, a lifetime of memories, unimaginable grief and indescribable joy breaking over her in alternating waves. Corona winced, fighting reflexively against the new sensations. The song ended abruptly, and the bird drew back, rebuffed by the princess’s resistance. Its red eyes fell to the floor, looking almost apologetic.

Corona stared curiously back at the bird. It took her a moment to realize that this was its way of answering her questions, and that her panicked struggle was only blocking its efforts. Breathing heavily, trying her best to stop herself from trembling, she carefully lowered her mental defenses. “O…okay,” she murmured to the bird. “It’s okay. I won’t fight back. Just… just please tell me what’s going on.”

The bird hesitated for an instant, and then began its song anew. In moments, Corona’s mind was gently swept away, pulled into a swirling current of memories as the bird’s music played out the whole story.

Her name was Kyrie.

She was a Hypnobird, one of the last surviving members of her ancient race. She had lived in the wild regions of the Griffon Kingdom for a lifetime, moving from nesting place to nesting place to avoid being found by the ever-growing griffon population. In warm summers she had nested in leafy elms by quiet brooks in deep, secluded vales. In autumn, when the air turned bitingly cold, she fled south and built lonely nests of twigs on high mountain crags by the southern coasts. In harsh northern winters she had found refuge in warm caves, burying herself in thick nests of pine needles and piling up wintergreen berries to sustain her through the season. Sometimes she would sing to herself – a sad, lonely song that no one ever heard. She was always alone.

She had found a mate. Meeting him was nothing short of a miracle; for years she had believed she was the last of her kind. She had heard his sweet, hypnotic song echoing through the trees one warm, rose-colored morning in April, when the world was fresh and green and light breezes ruffled her feathers and scattered white cherry blossoms through the air, carrying the sound of his singing across the forest to her ears. She had lifted her own voice, singing her song in return, and guided by the other’s music they had met in a deep glade surrounded by wildflowers. Their individual songs became a duet. By the next spring, they had a nest in a beautiful old oak tree, and three beautiful hatchlings, and their blissful songs filled the forest with unearthly music that stirred the hearts of all living things who heard them to joy, indescribable joy.

Her mate had died. Some strange sickness took him in the autumn of that year, dragging him slowly away into a feeble sluggishness. His great wings grew weak, his golden plumage turned dull and ragged, and his songs faltered, his once-soaring voice fading into a rasping whisper that grated agonizingly against Kyrie’s heart. To the very end he struggled to keep up the nest, to find food for his new family and drive away predators with his frail singing, but before the season was out his life had left him. He died one gray morning in September, and the cold winds shook the dry, discolored leaves from the old oak branches and scattered them on the wind. Kyrie’s wailing song of mourning rent the woodlands, and the despairing howls of the forest-dwellers mingled with the frightened, hungry chirping of her chicks.

Her chicks had been taken. It had happened only two days after her mate’s death. Though their dwelling place lay deep in the thick, tangled southern forests of the Griffon Kingdom, a pony – Frostbane – had stumbled across them. With Kyrie too worn and heartbroken to properly fight back, the pegasus had stolen her nest right out of her oak tree, and borne it back to Gloomhold with Kyrie and her defenseless young still inside. There the cruel king had imprisoned her children, hidden them away in some secret place that only he knew, and threatened them with death if she failed to serve him. It was a horror and an agony that Kyrie could hardly bear, but she bore it for three years for her hatchlings’ sake. Her song became a weapon and a tool of oppression, and its sweetness rang false and hollow in her own ears.

The song ended. Kyrie closed her eyes and lowered her head in silence.

The images faded with the music, and Corona’s mind settled gradually back into the present, to her cold cell, to the bird and the griffon in front of her. She hung her head low, feeling tears running down her face, dropping softly onto the stone beneath her hooves. She breathed a slow, shaky breath, and spoke in a quiet, choked voice.

“I’m sorry… you poor thing… I’m so sorry….”

If she had been able, Corona would have scooped Kyrie up in her hooves and held her close to her heart.

“But,” she spoke up again, “but why’d you free me? I mean, I wanna help, if there’s anything I can do, but I dunno how... I don’t even know what’s going on.”

Kyrie added a short coda to her song – only a few quiet notes, but the melody was gingerly hopeful and bright, with just a tinge of melancholy and an undertone of trepidation. More scenes and emotions flashed through Corona’s mind.

“So the king’s dead… and now nobody knows where your nest is… and there are Equestrian ambassadors coming today? But that probably means – Blue!”

Corona’s face lit up. Her sister was coming to save her, she was certain of it! But how would they know where she was being held? How would they expose the griffons as her captors? It’s not like the new queen of Gloomhold would just hand her over.

“That’s why you woke me up, isn’t it?” she asked the bird. “So I could help you take down the new queen, and get your children back. Right?”

Kyrie made no sound, but inclined her head in a simple nod.

Corona smiled, though it was a smile tainted by a certain unease. Kyrie was clearly counting on a princess with great power, one who could overthrow a militant tyrant. She knew she didn’t have that power herself – but maybe Aurora would. Now that she had been set free, all she needed to do was get out of here, find the Equestrians and reveal herself, explain everything to them, and together, she and her sister would fix this. Aurora would take care of everything, like she always did.

But now, doubts began to creep into her mind. What if her sister weren’t coming? What if nopony actually knew that she had been captured by the griffons? She’d never achieve anything on her own, surely. Her magic was still at a nascent stage, and she could hardly do more than open curtains or lift little changelings around. She certainly couldn’t fight anyone. That had been Aurora’s job, really; she had fought the “ghost,” she had fought Somnambula. All Corona had done was run off by herself, getting lost, getting captured. She sighed sadly, biting her lip. She really couldn’t do anything right without her sister.

But when she looked at Kyrie again – at the simple expression that seemed to bear so much sadness, and those red eyes that looked back at her with so much hope – she couldn’t refuse.

“I… I don’t know how much help I’ll be,” she said at last, “but I can try my best. Okay?”

Kyrie leapt into the air, hovering at about eye-level with the princess, and sang a few notes. They meant nothing to Corona, but the griffon seemed to understand them just fine. He reached for the keys that hung on a hook by the cell door on and, with a clanking, rattling sound, unlocked the cell and slid back the iron-barred door. He nodded respectfully to the princess, then turned, striding away down the hall. Cautiously, Corona poked her head out the door and watched as the guard disappeared into the distant shadows, and the click of his talons on the stone floor faded into silence.

Corona carefully set one hoof outside of the cell, then another. Kyrie landed atop her back and rested her wings.

“Wait,” said Corona, stopping short a little awkwardly. “If you’re gonna let me go, then… can you wake up these little guys, too?” She turned back, indicating the three captured foals that lay unconscious on the floor of the cell. Even in their sleep, they looked sad and helpless. “It just doesn’t feel right to leave them here alone. And they’re probably really hungry, too, if they’ve been out for a long time. Please?”

For a brief moment, Kyrie seemed to hesitate. Then she sang three clear notes: a simple, rising tri-tone. Corona looked back at the foals as they began to stir awake, shifting and murmuring as the Hypnobird’s song worked its subtle magic on their sleepy minds.

“Whoa,” one of them yawned. He was a brown-coated unicorn colt with a red flannel bandana tied neatly around his neck. He opened his eyes, shaking his head to toss his light gray mane out of his face. He was facing the wall, and saw neither Corona nor Kyrie. “W…what happened?” he murmured.

A second one yawned. She was a sky-blue pegasus, with a darker blue mane with two bouncy tube-curls falling behind her ears. She tried to stand, stretching her back and fluttering her wings, her tired eyes still half-closed. “I’ll…I’ll tell you what happened, Timberjack,” she said groggily, in a noticeable Trottingham accent. “You got us lost, that’s what happened. And… and then we fell into a ditch, or something horrid like that. There’s probably dirt in my mane!”

The third foal, a beige-coated earthy pony colt with a shaggy teal mane, was finally starting to wake up as well. He yawned like the others, rubbed his eyes with his hooves, and looked up – right into Corona’s eyes. He gasped.

“H-h-hey, you’re the Princess!”

“Hmm?” said the other two, turning to look at their friend. Then their gazes rose to meet Corona’s friendly smile, and they froze, staring wide-eyed. The filly’s jaw dropped.

“P-Princess Corona?” she stuttered.

“See, Crackers? I told you that the princesses were doing something out here,” Timberjack interjected before Corona could get a word in. “Now what do you have to say?”

“Well, I might have believed you,” snapped the filly, “if you hadn’t been such a little twit about it. Now, shush! This is the Princess! You’re supposed to be polite!”

Turning snootily away from Timberjack, she offered Corona a courteous bow. “Pleased to meet you, your highness. My name is Crackers K. Curlicue of Trottingham.”

“But you’re from Ponyville!” said the earth pony colt.

“Salt Taffy!” Crackers scolded, shooting a glare in his direction. The colt drew back and grinned a big, sheepish, apologetic grin.

“Well, it’s true….”

“Well, I do live in Ponyville,” Crackers continued, turning back to the princess, “but we Curlicues trace our family line back to the Rarities of Trottingham, who – ” She stopped, cut short by a growl from her stomach, and her face flushed with embarrassment. “P-pardon me, your highness,” she said. “I suppose I simply – I’m a little hungry, that’s all.”

“Me, too,” said Timberjack, sitting down and placing a hoof on his empty stomach.

“Me three!” Salt Taffy added enthusiastically. “And four, and five, and six….”

“Wait – what were you guys doing in the forest that night?” Corona asked, interrupting. “Didn’t you hear about all the foalnappings?”

“Crackers said she wanted to see the ghost!” said Salt Taffy.

“I did not!” the filly protested, sticking her nose in the air. “Posh ponies don’t just go gallivanting off into forests looking for imaginary monsters. It was all Timberjack’s idea!”

“Me?!” The unicorn puffed out his chest indignantly. “You’re the one who brought the whole ‘ghost’ thing up in the first place! All I said was that if the Princesses banish it or something, we won’t get another chance to see it!”

“Yeah! And that was when Timberjack asked her if she was just a scaredy-pony, and she said – ”

“I didn’t say it like that! I just – ”

“Now, look here, you two – ”

As the foals broke out into childish argument, Kyrie and Corona shared a glance. The latter nodded, and Kyrie began to sing again: a short, breezy tune with a melody similar to her previous song, albeit considerably simpler and less melancholy. The foals’ bickering ceased abruptly as the music caught their ears, and together they fell into a listless silence as their eyes glazed over, focusing on the unfamiliar images that now swam before them. An understanding of their situation began settling into their minds. Timberjack’s face fell into a timid, worried grimace. Crackers began to tremble. Salt Taffy, for his part, simply swayed back and forth while his eyes spun in nauseous circles.

Soon the song was over, and the foals shook themselves and came back to reality. Crackers was the first to speak up, and her voice was shaky and timid. “You mean,” she half-whispered, “You mean we’ve been foalnapped?”

Timberjack grimaced. “I shoulda known….” he muttered, stamping a hoof in frustrated defeat.

Salt Taffy wobbled on his unsteady hooves, still reeling from the spell. “Feelin’ kinda woozy…” he murmured. He lost his balance and stumbled into Timberjack, who graciously propped him back up, offering him a friendly smile. Crackers stepped up beside them, also smiling, but their faces quickly turned fearful and shy as they turned back to the princess.

“You… you can get us out of this, right, your highness?” asked Timberjack, gazing pleadingly up at Corona.

The other two looked up to her as well, their eyes brimming with fear, their faces all asking the same question. They were just foals, Corona reminded herself; they were lost and alone, and the only pony around to take care of them, the only one they could rely on, was her. No Aurora, no Glass Eye. Just her. The weight of her responsibility fell suddenly upon her, and a cold dread wrapped its talons around her heart. She took in a long, slow breath and tried to hide her own fear as she stared back into their eyes. Surely she couldn’t protect them by herself, could she? The last time she had tried to do something by herself, without her sister’s help, she had ended up helpless and hypnotized along with them.

And yet, strangely, the longer she looked at their frightened faces, the more her fear seemed to diminish. The responsibility that weighed on her was crushingly heavy, but at least her job was incontrovertibly clear. She knew what needed to be done, and this knowledge gave Corona an odd sort of confidence, an uplifting sense of purpose. These foals needed somepony to make them feel better, and if Corona was the only one who could do it, then so be it – she’d try her best.

“Yup!” she said at length. “Yeah, we’re gonna be just fine. My sister’s coming to save us! And – and even if she doesn’t show up – well, we’ve got a Hypnobird, haven’t we?”

She looked at Kyrie, and the bird squawked in assent.

“See? That’s gotta count for something, right?” Corona continued, laughing. “Yeah, being able to mind-control any unfriendly griffons we bump into – it’s not like that power could possibly come in handy or anything, huh?”

The foals laughed with her – quietly at first, and a bit nervously, but they burst out into riotous mirth when Corona struck a dramatic pose, wings extended, with Kyrie perched on her back in a dignified posture, and turned to march down the hall with her chin held high.

“Hey, what’re you slowpokes waiting for?” she called out to them. “Let’s get out of this place! You’re not saying you like it in there, are you? C’mon, I’m sure we can find you something to eat around here somewhere….”

Grinning warmly, the foals stepped out of the cell and followed the princess.

The main hallway of the Underhold was long and very dark, illuminated only partially by the red glow of torches that hung on the walls at evenly-spaced intervals. Corona and the foals stared into other cells as they passed them, but they all stood empty, their occupants having long since been sent to work in the diamond mines. The silence was heavy and unnerving, and the foals cringed timidly at the deep shadows, fearing that something might be lurking out of their line of sight. With a little effort, Corona conjured up some magic and made her horn glow like a golden lamp, shedding a tad more light on their surroundings and making the foals feel much more at ease.

After a few minutes’ walk, Corona came to a stop in front of an unusually large cell on her left, just across from a staircase that led upwards on their right. The three foals, who were following her in single file, all bumped into one another as their little train ground to a halt.

“Your highness?” said Crackers. “Is something the matter?”

The princess said nothing, and simply stared into the dark chamber. It was the first occupied cell they had encountered so far, and to Corona’s great surprise, it contained a pony, resting on the floor right next to the bars. She was a tall, white unicorn with a tattered green scarf around her neck and a cracked pair of glasses perched on her snout in a lopsided fashion. Her dark, disheveled mane hung obscuringly over her face, but it looked as if her dead, sullen eyes were fixed on the stone floor. It only took Corona a moment to recognize her, for the memory to rise to the surface of her still-slightly-muddled mind.

“Professor Somnambula?” she whispered.

The unicorn raised her head, startled by the sound. Her pale pink eyes gazed at the princess through her broken spectacles, and then quickly darted away in fear and shame, accompanied by a short gasp. When she finally looked up again and spoke, her voice retained a bit of its natural cheerfulness, but it was ragged, apprehensive, and burdened by some great emotional weight.

“Your highness,” she said, inclining her head in a slight bow. “I certainly wish I could say that it’s nice to see you, but….” Her gaze fell to the floor. “If you’re making your escape now, please, please don’t bother with me. I don’t deserve it, considering….”

“Hey, I remember you!” said Timberjack. “You were in the Everfree Forest!”

“I remember her, too,” added Crackers. “Yes, I remember now – the three of us were hiding in some tumbledown brick house in the middle of the woods to get out of that dreadful weather….”

“…and then we heard that music!” Salt Taffy concluded for her. “And then we saw you! Except you weren’t all beat-up like you are now, and your scarf was in better shape, and your eyes were a different color, and I think maybe you were taller, or maybe that’s just me….”

“But you never meant any of that, did you?” asked Corona. She cast an inquisitive eye on Kyrie as she spoke, and the bird nodded ashamedly. “That whole time, the griffon king was making you do things you didn’t really want to do. Even when you were back in Canterlot… right?”

There was a pause. Slowly, reluctantly, Somnambula nodded. “Yes,” she said in a low voice. “But – no. Oh, I don’t know what to think. I remember everything, every moment – meeting you in the Canterlot Gardens, lying to you, fighting your sister – and – and I remember wanting to do it. Now I’m just... oh, dear, I’m so sorry.” Her face darkened, and she shook her head. “You were right not to trust me, your highness. I should’ve resisted harder, I should’ve – I wish I had – I just – oh dear, oh dear, oh dear….” She trailed off, her voice faltering into near-silence.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Corona insisted. “I understand. You weren’t yourself, y’know? It wasn’t really you.”

“I know, I know,” Somnambula admitted, nodding. “Kyrie’s spell does seem to have a rather profound effect on one’s personality. But, oh dear, it all felt so terribly lucid – even in those awful moments, I felt so much like myself – oh, dear….”

Timberjack looked her over. “So… you were the ghost?”

“That’s weeeiiiird!” said Salt Taffy. “She doesn’t look like a ghost.”

Somnambula’s smiled – a sad smile of mild amusement. “No, I’m not,” she said, addressing Corona. “That poor little changeling was the ‘ghost.’ I found her two years ago, not long after I had – well, you know – and I thought I could use her as a cover, so that ponies would be less suspicious, and – oh, goodness, I was such a horrible pony….”

“Hey, c’mon,” Corona prodded her gently. “It’s okay now, we understand. That’s not who you really are. I mean, Glass Eye said he totally trusted you – the real you, I mean – and who’d know you better than him? I say that’s good enough for me.”

Somnambula raised her eyes, peeking through her messy mane at the princess. “You – you mean that, your highness?”

“Mm-hmm,” Corona answered, nodding. “The way I see it, that foalnapping stuff was never really your doing. It was all that Blacktalon guy’s fault. And now he’s dead, so nopony’s to blame. Okay?”

“Well, if you say so, your highness,” Somnambula conceded at last. Her sad smile turned warm and genuine. “But, please understand, if there’s anything I can do to make it up to you – ”

“Nah, forget about it,” said Corona. “We’re escaping, and we’re definitely taking you with us.” She eyed the bars of the cell, noticing that they were thicker and newer-looking than any of the others they had passed. “Why’d they lock you up, anyway?”

“It was Frostbane’s doing,” she explained. “She believed I was an ‘unstable element’ in her formula, or something to that effect, that I might cause problems when the Equestrian ambassadors arrived. You see, Kyrie’s spell may be overridden by a sudden surge in certain types of neurotransmitters, which disrupt the guiding harmonic patterns of – ”

“Huh?” Corona raised an eyebrow.

“Oh! Pardon me, your highness,” Somnambula said with a sheepish grin. “Rambling, as usual. I suppose I am back to being myself again. What I mean is that her spell can be blocked out by powerful emotional responses, like love or hate, or… or guilt. Oh, it won’t do any good looking for keys, I’m afraid,” she added, as Corona had begun searching the wall for a hanging key-ring like the one outside her own cell. “This cell is enchanted, locked by magic. Blacktalon had me design and build it myself, just in case it ever became necessary to keep unicorns detained. Only another magic-user can open it, and only from outside the cell.”

It was true. When Corona looked more closely, she could see a faint purplish glow around the shiny steel bars. There was a large, heavy lock on the sliding door, but the keyhole was simply a star-shaped impression in the metal that resembled Somnambula’s Cutie Mark. She gave the professor a quizzical look. “Then… how do I get you out?”

“It’s a fairly simple mechanism, actually,” Somnambula explained. “You just have to reach out telekinetically and turn the ‘tumbler’ – there isn’t a physical one, of course, it’s all embedded in the metal by the enchantment – but it should feel like turning a regular key in a lock. Go on, give it a try!”

“Well,” said Corona, issuing a nervous sigh and trying to hide her lack of confidence. “Okay. Just hang on a sec….”

The princess closed her eyes, gathering her willpower and summoning up all the magic she could muster. She could sense the cell in front of her, and perceive the luminescent streams of magical energy that coursed through the metal, all clustering together around the lock. She reached out with her mind, just as she would with a simpler task, and felt for the lock mechanism. There, she had it – now, if she could only apply enough pressure, turn the “key,” maybe, just maybe it would open right up….

But it didn’t. Though she struggled with all her might, the lock wouldn’t budge, not even an inch. She gritted her teeth and tried again. Still nothing. A third, dizzyingly tense attempt still brought no results. She could feel beads of sweat forming on her brow, and her heart was pounding from the strain – and from the fear. Kyrie, disturbed by her trembling, fluttered noisily off of her back and landed on the floor a short distance away, staring at the princess with obvious concern.

At last she gave up, collapsing to floor in frustrated defeat. It was impossible. The principle of the mechanism she could understand, but she felt as though she simply lacked the strength. It was like raising the sun or the moon: for those tasks, she had always had her sister at her side, guiding her, sharing the burden, giving her power. Without her, she was useless.

Without Aurora, she was only half a princess.

“It’s no good,” she said. “I can’t do it. My magic’s just not strong enough.”

“Yes, you can, your highness.”

“No, I can’t!” She hung her head, letting her mane fall in front of her face to hide the tears that gathered in her eyes. “I can’t do anything right. Not by myself… not without Blue. She’s the one who always takes care of everything. I just make messes for her to clean up. I’m just… I’m just a useless lump. I can’t save anypony.”

“Who’s Blue?” Timberjack whispered, nudging Crackers with an elbow.

“You simpleton!” she hissed back quietly. “That’s Princess Aurora’s name. She misses her sister!”

“Oooooh,” said Salt Taffy, as he nodded along in understanding.

There was a lengthy silence as Corona continued to stare at the floor, ignoring the foals. The fear that had threatened her heart earlier now had complete control. She shut her eyes, blocking out the dim light of the dungeon hall, trapping herself in pitch black, alone with her despairing thoughts.

It was Somnambula who finally broke the silence. “Well, your highness,” she said, with just a flicker of warmth in her voice, “I don’t know how much it would help, but I could tell you what I think my grandfather would say to you now.”

“Glass Eye?” Corona looked up, her red-rimmed eyes meeting the unicorn’s bright violet ones. “Why? What would he say?”

“Well, first of all,” she began, “he’d tell that you most certainly aren’t useless. I mean, goodness, look at everything you’ve accomplished so far!”

“What do you mean?” Now the princess was curious. “What have I accomplished?”

To Corona’s great surprise, Timberjack suddenly spoke up. “Well… you made us feel a lot better, for one thing.”

“Better, and safer,” said Crackers, nodding in agreement.

“And you made us laugh, too!” Salt Taffy added enthusiastically. “That’s gotta count for something, right? Right?”

“You’re a pony with limitless compassion,” Somnambula concluded, “and you never let your fear prevent you from doing what’s right. Even when we were in Canterlot, and you explained how you rescued that poor little changeling from starving to death in the swamp… Well, if I hadn’t been under the influence of mind-control, I might’ve deduced right there and then why the Elements of Harmony chose you to be a princess. You simply spread joy and laughter and love wherever you go. Why, even just now, talking with you has done a great deal to ease my mind. Goodness knows how much I needed it….”

“But – but that’s not the same!” Corona protested. “I mean, I guess it’s all true, that I’m good at being friendly, but – but what does that have to do with my magic?”

“Oh, your highness,” Somnambula chuckled, smiling and shaking her head. “Hasn’t anypony ever told you that friendship is magic?”

“Huh? What does that mean?”

“Don’t you see, your highness? Laughter, kindness, magic itself… they all come from the same source, from the Elements of Harmony. They gave you your power to begin with, as they gave us all the wonderful gifts we possess.” She placed a hoof against her heart, and her meditative gaze seemed to stare into the distance. “It’s not our own power, not really, but we all carry it within ourselves, and it gives us everything we need – to be compassionate and generous, to live in harmony, to love each other. And for some of us, when necessary… it gives us the power to work wonders.”

Corona frowned. “I don’t really feel like I can work wonders. Not by myself.”

“Then don’t think about yourself. Focus on the Elements. You’re an Equestrian princess, and your magic is their gift to you. They’ve already given you kindness and laughter in great quantities, and they’re still with you now, alive in your heart just as much as they are in those jewels locked away in that safe in Canterlot. Just let them complete their gift.”

At that point, Somnambula stood up in her cell, bringing herself to eye level with the princess, meeting her gaze through the enchanted bars. “You can do this by yourself,” she said, gently and tenderly, “because you’re never really by yourself.”

The princess looked around herself – at the professor’s encouraging smile, at the foals’ excited stares, at Kyrie’s simple look of curiosity – and she sighed. “All right,” she said finally. “I’ll give it a try.”

Once again, the princess rose to her hooves and bowed her head. “Right,” she murmured to herself in a low voice. “Right. Now, think. Elements, Elements, Elements. Loyalty, Generosity, Honesty… Laughter… Kindness… Magic….”

Again, she closed her eyes, and again, she reached out for the lock with her mind. But this time, she didn’t struggle or strain or grit her teeth. She simply thought back. She thought of that awful joke she had tried to crack the first time she and Aurora explored the Everfree, and how her sister had struggled not to laugh. She thought of Ghost, and that warm, bubbly feeling she had gotten when she had given up some of her love to feed the poor, starving thing. She thought of that bright, sincere, honest smile on her sister’s face all those years ago, when she had ruined their attempt at planting watermelons, and how much laughter they had shared over the whole business. And as Corona thought back, a strange, glowing warmth seemed to flow into her from some unperceived source. She noticed at once it was a familiar feeling, similar to drawing energy from her sister when they would raise the sun or the moon, but this new sensation was far more powerful.

She thought of her ascension to princesshood three months ago. She thought of the blinding white light, cacophonous roar of swirling magic, the overwhelming, electrifying power surging through her veins. She thought of the sudden claws of terror that had seized her heart, only to release its grip an instant later when a new feeling, an overpowering sense of peace and purpose, of wholeness, of fulfillment, of being who she was meant to be, of knowing, somehow, that everything would be all right, swept over her and filled her heart nearly to overflowing….

There was a click and a rattle, followed by a low, magical-sounding hum. Corona opened her eyes and looked up. The lock had fallen away. The cell door slid open.

The foals cheered. Kyrie tweeted triumphantly. Somnambula simply smiled, stepping out of the cell and resting a congratulatory hoof on Corona’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Professor,” Corona said, looking down sheepishly. “I guess I really needed to hear that.”

“Oh, don’t thank me, your highness,” Somnambula insisted. Then she stepped away from the princess, turning to fix Kyrie with a benevolent gaze. “And there needn’t be any hard feelings between us, I assure you.”

Kyrie tweeted happily, flapping her wings and settling again atop Corona’s back. The princess greeted her with a smile, but whatever she was about to say was cut short by a trio of hungry, growling stomachs. The foals still hadn’t had anything to eat, and they looked up at the older ponies with pleading, apologetic faces.

“Hey, Professor,” said Corona, “Would you mind taking care of these guys? They’re really hungry, and you know this place better than I do. I, uh – I kinda get lost easily, especially in big fancy castles. Could you find ‘em something to eat?”

“Absolutely! There’s a store of provisions at the end of this hall, I believe. And don’t worry, your highness,” she said, conjuring up an intimidating swirl of purplish energy around her horn as she spoke, “I’ll be able to deal with any resistance we might meet along the way.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive! There are so few prisoners these days, they keep a very limited staff in the Underhold. We’ll be quite safe down here, while you go out and wait for the ambassadors. Now, come along, kids! They grow the most interesting and nutritious mushrooms down here beneath Gloomhold. You see, they were cultivated to make up for the diminished agricultural output due to the permanent winter conditions....”

Somnambula’s voice trailed off as she led the foals in single file down the long, darkening hallway. Salt Taffy paused for half a moment to wave goodbye to princess before turning back around to follow his friends.

Corona smiled after them, waving back, then turned towards the staircase on her right. Kyrie stood at attention on her back, readying herself to sing their way out of trouble if any griffons tried to recapture them or bar their path. As she ascended the steps, her hoofsteps echoing loudly, she felt for the first time a new type of confidence – not the impulsive self-assurance that had gotten her in trouble so many times before, or even the simple grim acceptance of her responsibilities that had served her recently, but a different feeling entirely – a kind of faith, perhaps, and hope. The warm, glowing sensation of the Elements’ gift hadn’t yet left her heart, and despite the seriousness of her situation, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling a little.

Maybe she really could do this by herself.

15: Ascension (Part 1)

Quila Warwing’s earliest memory was of her mother, stretching her wing over her like a blanket while she slept to keep her out of the cold. She remembered waking, looking up into her mother’s face, and seeing something in her eyes that made her feel safe, warm, loved. She liked that feeling, and she found that she appreciated it more as she got older, and began to feel it less and less often. But she always kept that memory with her: the soft, gentle smile on Frostbane’s lips, the half-open violet eyes looking down on her with motherly affection. No matter how cold and distant Frostbane became in later years, whenever Quila thought of her mother, that was the face she always pictured.

She admired how strong her mother was. When she was very small, Quila would watch her mother fly, and would try to mimic her strong wingbeats, and the way she could turn and dive and whirl with such speed and grace. And when she was a little older, she would watch her mother sparring with new troops, darting this way and that, smacking them down almost without effort. And once, not so long ago, she got a chance to see her mother summon the Windigos, bending the terrible spirits to her will, commanding the weather and kingdom at the same time. Frostbane was her hero, the one pony whose approval and recognition Quila craved, the one she most wanted to be like.

The one memory that stuck the strongest in her mind was a night ten years ago, when she was still just a foal, and her mother was still second in command of Gloomhold’s armies, outranked only by the king’s old general, Ebonshield. It was a cold night (all nights were cold in Gloomhold), and Quila lay tossing and turning in her bed, unable to sleep. At last, feeling defeated, she got up and trotted down the hall in search of another blanket.

A light was on in the foyer, and there were voices. She crept up to the door, peering around the corner, and found her mother in conversation with a tall, black-coated pegasus.

“We’ve found it, ma’am,” he was saying. It was Midnight Tempest, one of her mother’s mercenaries. Quila had always liked him; he was friendly to her, if a little stuffy, and he was always respectful to Frostbane. He reached into a saddlebag and produced a small, flowering plant with purple petals. A pungent scent filled the air, and Quila wrinkled her beak at it.

“Good.” Frostbane had her back to the door, and Quila couldn’t see her face. “You know where to plant it?”

“Yes,” he answered. “The vintner won’t notice any difference. No one will notice any difference, not until he’s already had a drink.”

“Also good,” Frostbane said, nodding. There was a pause. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “The days have been heavy lately, and… and I appreciate how much you’ve helped me to bear the burden. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

“I could say the same to you, General. We all could.”

Without another word, Tempest put the plant back in his saddlebag and exited the room. Frostbane stood still for a moment, heaved a tired sigh, and then turned her head around. “I know you’re there, Quila. Come on out.”

“Mom?” Quila chirped, stepping timidly into the room. “What… what’s going on?”

For a second, Frostbane’s stern face softened. “Nothing you need to worry about. Just be strong,” she said softly, leaning down to Quila’s level, “and don’t be afraid. In this life, you sometimes wind up in a low place. You have to be willing to do whatever it takes to climb back out again. Do you understand?”

Quila looked away, shaking her head. “I… I don’t think so….”

Frostbane tousled Quila’s mane with a gentle hoof. “Someday, you will. Now, go back to bed. If you’re cold, I’ll get you another blanket.”

The next morning, Old Ebonshield was found dead, expired from a heart attack. Frostbane was promoted to Chief General of Gloomhold. It took Quila years to understand the connection, but eventually she did. And she learned from it.

“Be strong,” she repeated to herself constantly, never letting herself forget the wisdom her mother had graciously shared with her. “Don’t be afraid. Do whatever it takes. Keep climbing…."

She believed, and never stopped believing, that the words “I love you” were buried in there somewhere. Surely her mother just wanted the best for her. But as time went by, Frostbane spared her fewer and fewer kind, encouraging words. She trained Quila as a soldier, treating her like any other mercenary. Their time spent together became briefer, more laconic, and always tainted by a kind of cold detachment. It was as though some other voice were whispering in her mother’s ear, keeping her distant, hardening her heart against everyone close to her.

Still, Quila’s precious memories never left her. She wanted desperately, and never stopped trying, to do something that would make her mother smile again, the way she had smiled when Quila was just a foal resting under her wing. But Frostbane never smiled.

Quila loved her mother. She loved her more than anything in the world. And that was why, as the years passed, she grew to hate her just as much.

It was just before dawn. The faint, golden glow of the sun peeked over the mountain ridges far to the east, but darkness still covered the land like a blanket. Thick, wintry clouds hung low over Gloomhold, and snow drifted down from the heights, but the wind was slower, gentler than normal, a mere breeze compared to the usual ferocious, biting gusts that plagued the region. An eerie, expectant silence ruled the predawn air, and the kingdom slept soundly – save for one small, cozy hamlet tucked between the arms of the mountain far below the castle.

It was burning.

“Fire!” Frostbane shouted. She beat her wings, hovering high above the village, directing her soldiers from the air.

At her command, a long row of armored griffons, standing on a ridge overlooking the village, squeezed the triggers of their crossbows and fired another storm of bolts. Dozens of steel-barbed shafts whistled through the air, pelting the roofs of the cottages far below. Once the bolts stopped flying, a half-dozen more griffons and pegasi swooped down over the houses, dropping lit torches onto their thatched roofs, setting fire to the ones that weren’t already burning. Griffon peasants ran screaming from their homes, some taking flight in a panicked frenzy of feathers, others dashing across the snow in a desperate search for safer cover. On the ridge, the griffons began to reload their crossbows.

“Cease fire!” Frostbane shouted to them. The artillery had done its job; there was no need for loss of life. She nodded to a small battalion of her pegasi warriors, and they took wing, sweeping down into the village and surrounding the panicked griffons, pinning them against the cliffsides, or against the walls of their burning homes. The few armed peasants immediately threw their down their weapons: pitchforks and daggers fell from trembling mouths and talons onto the snow-covered ground. There was no further struggle.

Frostbane landed, settling on the ridge beside her archers. When news of the king’s death had broken, this tiny peasant settlement had been the first (and so far, the only) community to begin clamoring for independence from the crown, and stirring up revolt. Though they had long suffered from food shortages and excessive cold, this particular village was still fiercely loyal to the old king. In truth, Frostbane would have been greatly surprised if they had simply lain back and accepted their new half-griffon queen. If only, she though with a sour grimace – if only they had waited a week to revolt, or even a day. Why, why did it have to be now?

Midnight Tempest circled overhead, then landed on the ridge close by the general’s side. Though his face was stern and stoic as ever, Frostbane could sense concern and doubt moving behind his cold blue eyes.

“To the mines, General?”

“To the mines,” she said. “If their loyalty is less than absolute, then they’re of no other use to us.”

Tempest coughed gently. “They may be difficult to manage,” he said. “With the bird unaccounted for….”

“I know, I know.” Frostbane sighed. “And I hate to give the mine wardens more work now. It’s bad enough already. The whole sovereignty is.”

This was true, and no one knew it better than Frostbane. The past twenty-four hours had been nothing short of harrowing. For years, the servants and slaves of Gloomhold had lived in hypnotized servitude to their worshipful king; but with Blacktalon dead, it was as though the spell had suddenly become void. Many of them were lost and bewildered, unsure of whom to follow, and much time had been spent (wasted, in Frostbane’s opinion) making certain they remained in the service of Gloomhold. Worse, though most of the army and guards had accepted the change in authority, there were dozens of old soldiers whose loyalties to the deceased king were too strong, and who were determined to make martyrs of themselves. The fighting had been brief, for the old guard was hopelessly outnumbered, but their resistance had cost Gloomhold a hefty price in blood.

But the diamond mines had been the worst. The countless slaves, suddenly free of their pacifying enchantment, had nearly rioted; only harsh threats of force had kept them under control. Too many of Frostbane’s warriors had to be sent down beneath the mountain to maintain order, leaving her with only just enough troops to carry out her preemptive strike on the rebellious village… and to make certain that all would be well when the Equestrian ambassadors arrived.

“Don’t bother sending them to the Underhold,” she instructed Tempest. “Take them directly to the mines. We need to get this place emptied before the hour is out. We can’t afford to have the Equestrians see us in this sorry state.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He said nothing to indicate his mood, but Frostbane could see the weariness in his face, and the dark circles under his eyes. It had been a long night, and he had been working tirelessly on her orders. “We’ll do what we can.”

As Tempest began barking orders to the troops to move out the captured peasants, Frostbane leapt into the air, winging her way back up towards the castle, leaving the smoking ruins of the village far below her.

Gloomhold was a vast, heavy fortress of stone, chiseled into the southeastern face of the mountain; the great gates faced inland, and from the eastern windows the gray, icy sea was visible crashing against the cliffs far below. The keep was accessible to non-flyers only by a narrow, winding, rock-strewn path that wound its way up into the mountains. Frostbane landed on the road just before the gates, and turned for a moment to look down southward across the land from her high perch. The sun rose over the eastern mountains at last, and, with the snowstorm in an unusually subdued state, she could see the whole of her modest dominion spread out before her.

Plumes of smoke drifted up from the burning village at the foot of the mountain, but otherwise all was still, looking exactly the as it had for the past twenty years. Steep mountainsides covered in rugged pine forests, icy rivers rushing over the rocks and streaming through the deep valley, all coated in a thick blanket of snow. Something about the familiar sight quelled Frostbane’s worries. Though she was loath to admit it, Blacktalon’s “Doctrine of Eternal Ice” made a good deal of sense: keeping the land cloaked in a year-round winter had a way of freezing opposition, fostering dependency, and giving their subjects the impression that nothing would ever change, no other regime would ever come to power. Well, now another ruler had taken over, but Frostbane continued to hope that she could maintain the stability of Blacktalon’s rule.

And yet….

And yet she wasn’t Blacktalon, and she knew it. As far as Frostbane could tell, he had reigned for decades with absolute self-assurance and smugness, never once doubting his decisions. She was different; doubts assailed her every day, doubts and unwanted feelings, unwanted weaknesses. Her time in Gloomhold had made her colder and harder of heart – it had been necessary, of course, and she was a stronger pony for it – but there were times when she felt that her perfect, icy shell was cracking. She had been down into the mines more than once in the past day, and she had seen the hopeless, empty faces of the slaves who had only just received their free will, and those faces had haunted her. They reminded her of Blacktalon, of his pitiful expression moments before his demise. But Blacktalon had cruelly insulted her daughter; what had that poor slave ever done to deserve the same scorn?

A breeze began to pick up, lightly caressing her face. The winter storm was broiling to life again, the snow began to fall more heavily, and the ghostly wail of the wind came echoing down from the north, filling Frostbane’s ears with its distant howl. She stopped, and shook her head, suddenly remembering herself. What had she been thinking? What did she owe those worthless, disloyal peasants? Ponies, griffons, her own daughter, it didn’t matter; if they lacked the strength to resist, then she had every right to make them her tools, her slaves, her puppets. That was how she had always figured it, at least, ever since she had come to Gloomhold.

Then why did something still seem wrong about it?

It didn’t matter. All her strange thoughts and worries disappeared the moment she opened the gates and set hoof again inside the castle. Opinicus came scurrying up to her side, coughing her usual cough, and Frostbane’s mind turned at once to more pressing matters.

“What is it?” she barked, nearly making Opinicus jump.

“Ah! Well, first of all, General,” the griffon began, “The meeting room has – *cough* – has been made ready. Well, almost ready.” Her voice was softer than usual, with a noticeable tremble in it. She was nervous, and trying to hide it. “We’ve hung the tapestries you requested, and we’re still working on procuring appropriate refreshments for ponies. But when the ambassadors arrive, I assure you they’ll find it most hospitable.”

“Good, good.” Frostbane took off her helmet and breastplate, passing them both to Opinicus, who set them aside for some other servant to pick up, and the two of them set off down the hall. The castle was busier than usual; soldiers, guards, and servants filled the hallway, giving and receiving orders, bustling about in preparation for the upcoming diplomatic visit.

“Do the elite guards all know their hiding places?” Frostbane asked as they walked.

“Yes, General.” Opinicus coughed another nervous cough, following close behind Frostbane. “In the event of trouble – that is, if the Equestrians make any aggressive moves, of course – they’ll be prepared to act.”

“Also good. And…” Frostbane stopped before the doors of the throne room, and heaved a tired sigh. “And how’s Quila?” she asked at length. “Has she been briefed about her role?”

Opinicus’s eyes began to dart this way and that, and she cleared her throat anxiously. “Well, actually, General, about your daughter… I mean, about Her Majesty the Queen….”

“Mom!”

A familiar voice caught Frostbane’s ear, and she turned. Her daughter was striding down the hallway towards her, confusion and anger written all over her face.

Opinicus looked down ashamedly. “We’ve – *cough* – we’ve had a little trouble keeping her in her chambers, General.”

“It’s fine,” said Frostbane. “I’ll deal with her myself. Just get those refreshments taken care of.”

Opinicus offered the general a respectful bow and scurried away in her usual skulking manner, and Frostbane turned around to face Quila. This was the second time she had seen her daughter since the latter had become queen; their first meeting had been shortly after the coup, when Frostbane had paid her a consoling visit, filling her in on everything that had happened, and everything that was going to happen. Quila had taken it all well enough, once the initial shock and fear had subsided; she had accepted the role she had always been told she would have to play someday.

And right now, that role required her to stay in her room.

“What are you doing here?” Frostbane asked sharply. “Didn’t I instruct you to wait in your chambers?”

“Mom, what’s going on?” Quila asked. Her young voice sounded hurt and indignant. “Sundiver told me I had to stay shut up there until tomorrow! I thought that, you know, since, I guess, I mean, I’m the queen now, and….” She stopped herself, cutting off her nervous stammering, and started over. “I mean, aren’t I supposed to be at the meeting? Won’t the Equestrians ask to see me?”

“They probably will,” said Frostbane. “And I’ll tell them that the queen isn’t ready to receive visitors personally. I’m going to speak in her stead.”

“But – but I am ready!” Quila stamped her foot. “I’ve studied as hard as I can! I read every book you gave me, and then I re-read them, just like you told me to! If there were ever a moment for me to prove myself, well… isn’t this it?”

Frostbane simply shook her head. She raised a hoof, pushing open one of the heavy wooden doors to the throne room, eyeing the numerous guards and servants who moved through the hallway. “Come with me,” she said. “We need to speak privately.”

“Oh.” The hope vanished from Quila’s eyes. Softly, she muttered, “Okay,” and followed her mother inside.

The throne room, as per Frostbane’s instructions, looked more or less the same as it always had. A new fire crackled in the circular pit (the old king’s charred bones had been removed quite some time ago), and the heavy granite throne sat empty on its dais. The only difference was the one tapestry that Blacktalon had destroyed during their battle; now it had been replaced with an older one, a slightly timeworn but still serviceable drapery depicting a number of old griffon-tales. Frostbane hoped that it would create an atmosphere of familiarity and tradition, since it was important that the new hippogriff queen be perceived as just another ruler in the line of succession. Just another Blacktalon.

She turned back to look at her daughter. “Yes, Mom?” Quila asked, looking at her curiously with those soft, childlike eyes. She looked nothing like her father. “What did you wanna talk about?”

“I need you to understand something.” Frostbane walked to the edge of the fire-pit, sitting down to warm herself as Quila walked over to join her. “You’re being kept in your room,” she began coolly, “not because I want to deprive you of happiness out of spite, but because we cannot afford for this meeting to end badly. We can’t afford a single mistake, a single show of weakness, a single word spoken out of turn. I think – I think – I have a method of preventing them from locating their princess by magic, but if they’re given even the slightest reason to suspect that she’s here – ”

“Wait,” Quila interrupted. “You mean, we aren’t just going to tell them up front that we have their princess? Why not? Wouldn’t that make them do what we want?”

“No. That is precisely what we are not going to do. Equestria has two princesses, and the other would not respond kindly if she knew her sister was being held here. There’s no reason why they should give into our demands if they could simply wipe us off the map in a flash of magic.”

“I thought you said you had a way to fight back!”

“I do. And I desperately hope that I won’t need to use it.” Frostbane heaved an angry sigh, shaking her head again. “You’re still thinking like a warrior, and not a queen. We don’t need to have any demands met, we don’t need any great leverage over the Equestrians. We simply need to tread carefully, and to wait. We’ll figure out how to work things to our advantage later – after they’ve left us alone.”

“Oh.” Quila’s ears fell flat against her head in disappointment. Mother knew best. Mother always knew best. “Okay. I understand. It’s just that – I just – I wasn’t trying to think like a queen. I was just trying to think like you.” She looked up at her mother with wide, pleading eyes full of admiration. “I just wanted to make you proud.”

Frostbane’s harsh response died on her tongue before she could get the words out. She knew that look in Quila’s eyes, that sad, longing, faintly hopeful look. It was yet another face that haunted her, and it had haunted her for years. The way Quila looked up to her, depended on her, wanted to emulate her… it struck her in some deep, vulnerable place. There it was again, that strange, warm feeling. She looked again at her daughter, and suddenly looked so very small, and very young, and she was hers….

“I see,” Frostbane said quietly, and then paused in thought, grimacing. She couldn’t afford to keep feeling this way. Quila needed to learn her place, and Frostbane’s own unwanted feelings were getting in the way. She shook her head again. “It doesn’t matter. You’re not ready to take part in the meeting. It doesn’t matter how many books you’ve read or how many times you’ve re-read them. You’re still a child who lacks the wisdom and restraint necessary for diplomacy.”

“Well, actually, Mom….”

“Yes?”

“It’s just that, well, today is….”

“What is it?”

“…my birthday. Remember? I’m – I’m sixteen now. Old enough to join the army, old enough to inherit the throne….” Quila shuffled her feet, looking back and forth between the floor and her mother’s eyes. “I mean, if I’m not ready now, then when will I ever be?”

Frostbane was about to reply – yes, yes, of course I remembered your birthday, why would I forget – but she was cut short by frantic series of knocks at the door. She whipped her head around, glaring angrily at the pony who poked his head in through the half-open doorway, a was a yellow-coated pegasus with a fiery orange mane.

“What do you want, Sundiver?”

“General!” he stammered out. “Ma’am! The Equestrian princess – she’s escaped!”

“What?” Frostbane’s voice was stern and cold, masking her sudden fear. “How? When? Where is she now?”

“We don’t know, ma’am. None of the guards in the Underhold had reported for hours, so we went down to check, and the princess was gone. The guards were all asleep, locked up in the cells.”

“Kyrie,” Frostbane muttered bitterly. That blasted bird would pay for this.

“The Witch has escaped as well, along with the three foals who were being kept in the princess’s cell. We searched the whole Underhold, but the storeroom is sealed by some kind of magical barrier; we think there may be ponies holed up inside.”

“Including the princess?” Frostbane asked desperately. “And was there any sign of the bird?”

Sundiver shook his head. “No, ma’am. No sign of her. The princess may be inside, or she may be loose in the castle. We just can’t say for certain.”

Almost involuntarily, Frostbane’s right front hoof moved up to the pendant she wore around her neck. “Search for her,” she said, struggling to keep the panic out of her voice. “Search every floor, every room, every hallway. Gather up the First Battalion and scour the lower half of the castle. I’ll – I’ll be with you shortly.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sundiver bowed his head and exited, shutting the door behind him.

“Come on,” Frostbane said brusquely, turning to Quila. “You’re going back to your chambers. Now.”

“But – what?” Quila answered, shocked. “But – but I’m in the First Battalion! Shouldn’t I – ”

“No, you shouldn’t.” Frostbane was nearly frantic. An Equestrian princess was loose in Gloomhold. She had lived in Equestria once, and she knew of their power, their terrible wrath. And yet, she realized, her fear was not for herself. For some reason she could think of nothing but getting Quila back to her room, back behind a locked door, where she would be safe. She felt a sudden stabbing pain in her heart, in the same deep, vulnerable spot where she had felt so strangely warm mere minutes ago. She had difficulty getting her words out. “You’re the queen,” she said at length. “In a crisis, it’s your job to stay alive. To stay safe.” Please, please stay safe, she wanted to add. But she didn’t.

“But I can fight better than anyone! You know that!” There was desperation in Quila’s voice, and a longing, pleading look in her eyes. “If I can’t be a good diplomat, then at least I can be a good warrior! Mom, please, I need to do this!”

“No. No, you don’t.” With great effort, Frostbane controlled her voice, speaking firmly, steadily, sternly. Her protective urge made her feel weak, and weakness made her angry – at herself, and at her daughter. Outside the windows, the wind howled furiously. “You need more time,” she said, coming up with an excuse. “You need more training, more practice, more hours behind a shield. And right now, you need to obey me. Now go!”

“You… you still don’t believe in me, do you?” Quila was staring at the floor. Her voice was soft, sullen, full of bitterness. “All this time, and you still don’t think I’m good enough.”

There was a momentary pause. The fire crackled, the winter winds wailed and whispered in Frostbane’s ears, and she found that she couldn’t speak. What could she possibly say? I want – no, I need you to be safe, because you’re everything to me, because you’re my daughter, my only child, and I… I….

No. No, she couldn’t say that. That was weakness. The same sort of weakness that had held her back when Blacktalon stood helpless before her, the same kind of sentimental folly that made her sympathize with worthless slaves. She wasn’t a weak pony. She couldn’t allow herself to be weak.

“No,” she finally said. “No, you’re not good enough. Maybe, maybe, eventually, you’ll be – ”

“No!” The quiet bitterness in Quila’s voice flared up into anger. She raised her head, and a pained scowl adorned her face. “I’ve never been good enough for you! I’ve done everything you asked of me, I’ve worked myself almost to death, and you – you’ve never even smiled at me! And now, even now that I’m queen, you won’t even let me do the one thing I’m good at!”

She took a few steps forward, keeping her eyes locked on her mother’s. Frostbane lifted a hind leg, then the other, backing up slowly as fear and anger and panic and hurt all swirled around together inside her chest. “Now you listen to me….”

“What do I have to do, Mom?” Quila demanded, cutting her off, her voice cracking with emotion. “What do I have to do to prove myself to you? How much longer will it take until you believe in me? How good do I have to be for you to be proud of me?!”

“This isn’t about you!” Frostbane shouted, and Quila recoiled. Her fear and frustration were boiling over, and her words came tumbling out carelessly, furiously, all things she had never meant to say. “Don’t you understand? This isn’t about you. It was never about you. I don’t care whether you can ‘prove yourself.’ I didn’t put you on the throne because I thought you were good enough. I did it because that’s where I needed you to be!”

Quila stood frozen in shock. “I… I….” she stuttered.

“You what? Wanted me to proud of you? Wanted me to believe in you?” Anger had taken control of Frostbane now, anger and contempt, and her words came out as spiteful, venomous growls. “Of course I don’t ‘believe’ in you! It isn’t your job to be a good queen. It’s your job to sit on that throne and do what I tell you, just like you’ve always done. That’s what I’ve raised you for. That’s all.”

It was true. Every word of it was true.

But… for some reason… even as Frostbane spoke them, all of her words tasted like lies.

There was a long, heavy silence. Quila didn’t move. She stared back at her mother, her mouth hanging open, her rose-colored eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Now,” Frostbane said at last, breaking the silence, “You’re going back where you belong. And you will remain there until I have further need of you.”

With that, she turned away and made for the door.

“No.”

Frostbane stopped in her tracks. Slowly, she turned her head around, fixing her daughter with a cold glare. “What did you say?”

Quila was staring at the floor, trembling. “I said no.” Her voice was low and quiet, but dark and intense, filled with a slow-burning anger. She raised her head. Her eyes blazed, her brow was furrowed, and her beak curled into a snarl.

“You will do exactly as I say. I am your mother, and you – ”

“No. You’re not my mother. You were never a mother to me.” Tears streamed out of Quila’s eyes, and she advanced again towards Frostbane, backing her up with every step.

“All my life, I’ve done nothing but try to please you, and that’s what you think of me? I’m just your tool? Your little puppet? I’m your daughter! I – I loved you!”

Frostbane froze, stunned, as if struck by a blow.

“…love?” she half-whispered in shock and amazement. Was that it? Was that the strange, warm feeling that softened her heart towards Quila? Was that the irrational impulse that made her feel sympathy for her poor, abused slaves? Was that the weakness that had caused her such unbearable pain when she thought her only daughter might be in danger? They were almost face-to-face now, and Frostbane could see her own reflection in Quila’s angry eyes – her face twisted in pain and hate, her violet eyes burning with cruelty and contempt. It frightened her. “Quila – ”

“Don’t! Just – just don’t say anything! I don’t wanna hear it! I hate you!”

Quila’s fierce, narrowed eyes crawled over Frostbane, before finally landing on the small, glowing gem she wore on a chain around her neck. “You said you needed me to be strong,” said Quila, her voice thick with hurt and disgust. “Well, I’ll be strong. I’ll be just like you. I’ll do what you’ve always done.”

Before Frostbane could react, Quila reached out a forelimb, caught the chain with her talons, and ripped it right off of her mother’s neck. The chain snapped. Frostbane gasped. Quila stepped back and held up the gem, gripping the broken chain as tightly as she could in her awkward, clawed hand. With her free hand she wiped away her tears, and then fixed Frostbane with a scornful glare.

“I always thought I wanted you to love me,” she said. “But you know what? I don’t want your love. Not anymore.”

Closing her eyes and smiling a sad, grim smile, Quila began to chant.

“Boreas… Caisias….”

There was a blinding, blue-white flash of light, and a high-pitched ring like a crystal bell resounded in the air. Outside the windows, the wailing wind intensified into a terrible, piercing whistle.

“No! No! Quila, stop this!”

“Thraskias… Aparctias….”

A stiff, swirling breeze picked up inside the room, tossing Frostbane’s mane about her face and obscuring her vision. The gem glowed brighter, burning with a cold, white fire, and the sound of the wind began to change into a ferocious, animalistic howling.

“Skeiron… Argestes!”

The windows shattered. Frigid air and snow rushed into the throne room, whipping itself into a whirlwind that tore the tapestries from the walls. The fire went out, and ice crept onto the floor, onto the walls, onto the ceiling, onto the throne itself. Amidst all the chaos, Quila stood, gritting her teeth, her eyes shut tightly, as if she were trying to bottle up a scream. The power, the hate flowing through her was overwhelming.

Frostbane tried to reach her, but she was cold and weak, buffeted about by the powerful wind. Ice was forming on her brow, in her tail, on the tips of her wings. Her knees gave out, and she stumbled forward, slipping and crashing painfully to the ice-coated floor. She tried to stand again, brushing her mane out of her face, and looked up at her daughter with wide, horrified eyes. Ghostly pony-shapes swirled in the air about her, pale-white and translucent, howling and moaning in a horrific, hateful song. Suddenly they all stopped, wheeled about, and turned their glowing, unearthly eyes on Frostbane.

“Quila…” she murmured weakly, stricken with fear. “Please….”

At last Quila opened her eyes. She looked down at her mother, and smirked. It was the same kind of smirk Blacktalon had often worn. Frostbane’s heart shattered like glass.

“Please… I’m sorry….”

But that was all she managed to say before her broken heart was filled to overflowing with bitterness and fury and hate, unbearable, agonizing hate, so awful it made her chest ache like an open wound. A freezing chill pierced her to the bone, her veins ran with ice water, and her world turned into nothing but cold, silent darkness.

16: Ascension (Part 2)

It happened when Blue Moon and Summer Sun were in Canterlot, only a few months before their shared eighteenth birthday.

Their parents had been called to attend a cartographers’ conference, and had offered their daughters a chance to come along with them. Both agreed enthusiastically. Neither of the sisters had ever been to Canterlot before, but oh, they had heard about it. Before the day was out, the two had used up an entire notepad scribbling out a list of the things they wanted to see on their trip. Summer had the Canterlot Royal Gardens in mind, and Blue wanted to pay a visit to the Arcane University library, and they both hoped for a chance to tour the palace – and, perhaps, if they were lucky, to meet the princesses they both admired.

Blue was especially excited. Princess Celestia had been her lifelong role model, her shining ideal, her hero, ever since that day when she had paid their family a visit when she and Summer were only fillies. It wasn’t likely to happen, of course, but in the days approaching the trip Blue found herself rehearsing a series of questions for the princess, if by some chance she managed to meet her. She would ask her the reason for that strange visit all those years ago, and what she had discussed with her parents, and what her odd, moon-shaped Cutie Mark signified. She had never discussed it with her parents before, or even with Summer, but it would have been a great relief to have some answers at last.

Summer Sun was excited as well, but she wasn’t nearly as eager for answers. Summer was always drifting, never quite sure certain she wanted to do with her life, but perfectly content wherever she ended up (as long as Blue Moon was by her side, of course). Her own sun-shaped Cutie Mark remained a mystery, but it never troubled her. But Blue felt differently. She needed direction and purpose. She needed to know what her destiny was, because she wasn’t sure anymore.

As the years passed, and she grew from a tiny filly into a lovely young mare, her interest in mapmaking and geography had begun to wane. The long hours she spent studying books and drawing up practice maps by lamplight left her strangely unfulfilled; the thrill was simply gone. Her dream of being a great cartographer like her parents started to seem empty and false, like it didn’t mean much to her anymore. Like it wasn’t really her dream at all. Like she was meant for something different. And she wanted more than anything to know what that something was.

It was just before dawn when she finally got her answer. She was dozing in a small twin bed in a local inn in Canterlot, nearing the end of a long night of fitful sleep. White light pricked at the corners of her eyes, forcing them open before they were ready. She shut them again, muttered groggily and rolled over in bed, but the light only grew brighter.

At last she sat up, and found the source of the disturbance: an odd white radiance poured through the translucent curtains that hung over the window. Blue rubbed her eyes with her hooves and looked at the clock. It was still 5:30 – far too early for the sunrise. What was going on?

“Summer! Psst! Summer! Wake up!”

Summer, who slept in the bed across from Blue’s, stirred gently and sat up. “Oh. Hey, Blue,” she said, yawning. “What’s up?”

“Something’s happening,” said Blue. She hopped out of bed and trotted over to the window, pulling aside the curtains.

The whole western sky was aglow with an eerie white light. Then an object passed into view: a comet, or something like one. It shone brilliantly, slowly and steadily making its way across the heavens, bathing the whole earth below in a pale glow as bright as daylight. But it moved slowly, as though it were simply drifting through the sky on the wind, and each moment it seemed to glow brighter.

“Blue?” said Summer. “What… what is that?”

Blue continued to stare out the window, and the shimmering lights reflected in her eyes. “I don’t know,” she said quietly.

They went outside. Their parents had left early to prepare for the conference, but there were many other ponies bustling through the lobby, roused from their sleep by the strange light. By the time they made it to the street, dozens more ponies had stepped out of their homes, all silent, all gazing up together. Blue scanned the faces in the crowd. Some were simply curious, and others smiled in wonder and delight. Still others were worried, or perplexed. By now the object had ceased drifting, and hung directly over the city, still glowing so brightly that it almost hurt to look at it. Blue raised a foreleg to shield her eyes, but continued to stare.

“That’s weird,” said Summer, staring up as well. “If it’s a comet, shouldn’t it have passed already?”

“I don’t think it’s a comet,” said Blue.

The light was still growing in size and brightness, as though it were drawing nearer to earth. Soon a second light appeared alongside it, then a third. There were gasps, and quiet whispers sounded among the awestruck ponies. Now the lights grew closer still, and it was clear that there were five of them, clustered together in the vague shape of an arrow, surrounded by a shimmering, inky aura of midnight-black. In the distance, from high above the earth, a faint, piercing roar began to run through the night air, like a fireball tearing through the atmosphere.

The arrow wasn’t just drawing nearer to the earth. It was falling.

A sudden, uneasy murmur ran through the crowd. Frightened voices whispered harshly, ponies shuffled around worriedly, and foals began to cry. Then somepony shouted, and that was all it took.

Panic broke out. Ponies of all ages and races bustled this way and that, running in frantic circles, searching the crowd for loved ones. Blue Moon was among them.

“Summer!” Blue turned around and around, scanning the moving crowed with desperate eyes. “Come on! We need to find Mom and Dad. I….”

She fell silent. Something else had caught her attention. But it wasn’t something she could see, or hear, or even feel. It was soft, nearly imperceptible, but it made a shudder run through the whole length of her body. It was as though something had bypassed her physical senses and brushed up against her very soul. She blinked, shook herself, and then felt it again: it was stronger now, clearer, like a tiny string tugging gently at one corner of her heart.

Then it was gone, the strange feeling, and for a moment Blue wasn’t sure if she had only imagined it.

“Summer?” she whispered. “Are… are you out there?”

At last she spotted her. Summer was standing with her back to Blue, gazing up towards the looming shape of the royal palace rising above the cityscape. Blue rushed to her side, but before she could speak another word, she felt it again – the tugging, the nudging against her heart.

No, she thought. Now that it was back again, it was much more than a simple nudge. It was as though a piece of her heart was missing, had always been missing, even though she hadn’t realized it, but now it was it was reaching out to her, pulling her towards it like a magnet, longing to be reunited. A powerful yearning filled Blue’s heart, more powerful than anything she’d ever felt, though she didn’t know what she yearned for. Whatever it was, it was close, somewhere nearby, and it was beautiful – oh, it was beautiful, so beautiful that it broke her heart just to think about it.

Blue put a hoof to her aching chest and let out a long, shaky breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.

“B-blue?” Summer whispered to her. “D-did you feel that?”

Blue turned to her sister. Summer was trembling, but not with fear, and tears glistened in her eyes.

“Yeah,” said Blue. “I do.”

The two of them looked around at the other ponies in the street. They were still bustling about, half-panicked, rushing blindly to and fro, utterly possessed by their fear. None of them had felt it. Blue and Summer were afraid too, but now the feeling grew stronger, clearer than before, shoving aside their worry and filling them with an unearthly calm. The sisters looked at one another, eyes shining with tears in the growing light, and they understood.

It was a Call. Something was Calling to them.

“I think we should follow it,” Blue whispered at last.

Summer nodded. Now they could both sense it very distinctly. Whatever was pulling on their hearts, it was pulling in a specific direction, away from the square, up the street, closer to the center of the city. They set out nervously, cautiously, trying to feel their way to the source of the Call. First left, then right, now up, now down, following the tug in their hearts like a compass, pointing themselves in whatever direction the aching desire was most powerful, and most painful.

At first they walked slowly, weaving through the crowd and pushing gently, but soon the Call grew louder and stronger, overwhelming and irresistible, and they found themselves trotting, then running, then galloping blindly, dashing down back alleys, leaping over low fences, tears streaming down their cheeks all the while. They couldn’t tell where they were going. They just followed the Call.

The world became a blur. Time lost its hold on them. Blue remembered passing ponies, guards and soldiers and officials, who were all staring blankly at the sky and paid the two fillies no attention. The sisters’ legs moved mechanically, running faster than they ever thought possible, filled with a new vigor that coursed through their veins. Another force had settled upon them, holding them, guiding them. There was no fear in their hearts, no terror, but their yearning had grown fierce and desperate, the aching unbearable.

At last their frantic race came to a stop. They stood, panting heavily and resting their heads, staring at the red-carpeted floor beneath their hooves. The source of the Call was nearer than ever now, right in front of them, and the weight of its august presence descended upon them and rooted their hooves to the ground. At length, Blue caught her breath and looked up – and couldn’t believe her eyes.

They were standing in the Hall of Glass, the most hallowed place in the royal palace. They stood on a lush red rug that stretched from one end of the hall to the other, covering a gleaming floor of checkered marble. Along the walls were rows of gorgeous stained-glass windows that splintered moonlight into rainbows, and rising before them was a pair of massive doors surrounded by a golden frame, set with gems of all colors that shone brilliantly in the pale light.

As one, the sisters gasped. It was the chamber that held the Elements of Harmony.

The doors opened. Light poured out. The Call returned, beckoning softly for them to step forward.

They couldn’t refuse. Silently, together, Blue and Summer walked through the gateway.

On the morning when the Equestrian diplomatic party first crossed over the Drackenridge Mountains, the air was brisk and cool, a light sprinkle of snow fell gently from above, and occasionally a sharp breeze would blow down from the mountains to the north. The sky was overcast calm, the atmosphere eerily still and quiet, as though all nature were resting, gathering her strength for a heavy storm. And indeed, by mid-morning, the puffy white clouds had turned dark, twisting and roiling overhead as the gentle snow fell thicker and faster, and the occasional winds blew faster, and grew fierce and biting.

Aurora shivered. Having refused to take the sky chariot again (once had been more than enough), she had elected to travel north on hoof with the rest of the Equestrian ambassadors. The journey had not been a lengthy, arduous one, as Aurora had feared it might be. Once they had made it over the Pronghorn Pass, their descent into the foothills was a pleasant downhill stroll through thick evergreen woods, with the trail broken here and there by rushing white streams. Once they were out of the forest, the land opened into a wide valley, sloping upwards into craggy peaks in the west and extending across snow-covered plains to the sea in the east. Immediately to the northeast, adjacent to the coast and not more than a morning’s walk ahead, loomed a huge, dark mountain, the last and largest in a chain of snowy peaks that dominated the northern horizon. Even from miles away, Aurora could make out the fortress of Gloomhold, vast and menacing, carved right into the mountainside, overlooking both the valley and the cold, gray sea. A tiny, winding path led up from the valley floor to the castle’s great wooden gates.

“Yes, quite a piece of work, isn’t it?” said Lord Stargazer, gazing across the valley at the seaside fortress. He threw a sideways glance in Aurora’s direction. “Not too intimidating, is it, your highness?”

Aurora snorted, and tugged the hood of her thick, blue cloak over her head. Besides the princess, the diplomatic party consisted of just five ponies: two were elegant, well-dressed nobles, experts in diplomacy and economics, neither of whom Aurora especially cared for; two were aides, personal assistants of somewhat lower rank, both of whom Aurora rather liked; and then there was Stargazer, and his ego, and his smug, self-important smirk.

“No,” Aurora answered him coldly. “Not intimidating at all.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. The fortress was indeed imposing, but Aurora stubbornly refused to let herself feel fear; she couldn’t look weak or inept, not in front of Stargazer. She had to show him that she could take care of herself. When Glass Eye had finally convinced the Council to allow Aurora to accompany the mission, they had clamored for an armed escort, dozens of guards and soldiers to keep their inexperienced princess out of harm’s way. Then Lord Stargazer had volunteered to accompany her as well, and, needless to say, the additional security had been deemed unnecessary.

Aurora grimaced, striding against the wind towards Gloomhold in the distance. They were trotting along a dirt-and-gravel road, mostly free of snow and debris, which looked like it hadn’t seen much traffic in decades. Stargazer followed close beside her.

“Excellent! I expected nothing less,” he said. “In fact, I quite admire your bravery, Princess,” he continued. “No other magic-user with your level of experience would have the confidence, nay, the bravado to hold her head so high, given the circumstances.”

“I can take care of myself,” Aurora insisted sternly. She walked on, not even bothering to look in his direction. “I told you, I’ve got a grip on combat magic now. I know how to access my power. I just….” She trailed off. In her mind, she could hear her sister’s frightened voice echoing through the forest, she could see Corona’s injured form lying helpless on the swampy ground of the Everfree. She closed her eyes and shook her head, and the memories faded.

“I just need the right motivation,” she said at last, opening her eyes again and glaring up at the mountain with grim purpose. “And if my sister is up there, then I’ll find it. I know I will.”

“With respect, your highness, you haven’t got a grip on anything.” All traces of playful sarcasm had vanished from Stargazer’s voice; he was all business again, all cold condescension and disapproval. “Relying on your emotions to power your magic is a dangerous, exhausting, and foalish technique. It’s the first thing young unicorns are taught never to do in magic kindergarten.”

“Then what do you suggest I do?” she asked fiercely. “Months of hard work and training got me nowhere. Now I finally unlock my potential, and you tell me I shouldn’t use it? How am I ever supposed to be good enough, then?”

Stargazer simply flashed her a grin. “Oh, just keep your nose to the old grindstone, your highness, and I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it – eventually,” he said, though there was a cold shard of doubt in his voice. The stiff wind tossed his golden mane in front of his face and rustled his elegant purple cape. “Until then… well, that’s what I’m here for, isn’t it, Princess?”

His message was written plainly on his face, in his words, and in his tone of voice. He was here as her foalsitter. That’s the only reason she was allowed to tag along in the first place.

Aurora sighed and turned away, ignoring him, instead fixing her gaze on the path ahead. Stargazer huffed, and then continued trotting along at her side. Several paces behind them, the two ambassadors shared a bemused glance, but said nothing; their aides, both carrying heavy baggage on their tired backs, rolled their eyes and marched on in silence.

The road led on for miles across the valley. The wide plain was nearly a frozen wasteland: a thick coat of snow lay everywhere, chunks of ice floated through fast-running streams, and occasional patches of evergreens were all dusted with white. They encountered no armies or border guards; the only deterrent was the weather, which seemed to grow wilder and fiercer as the morning wore on. As the path sloped upward, they could look back and see dozens of tiny villages dotting the snowy landscape, and thin, black trails of warm smoke rising from chimneys. But soon the snow was falling thick and heavy, and the wide vista was obscured by the blustering white that blew down from high in the mountains.

At last they reached the foot of the mountain. The winding, rock-strewn trail led upwards along a high ridge, and far below, a small alcove between the arms of the mountain offered shelter from the stormy weather. Aurora caught a faint whiff of smoke in the air and stopped, looking down the ridge and spying the remains of a small village nestled against the mountainside. About a dozen circular brick cottages stood, charred and roofless, with burnt timbers and abandoned farming implements strewn all about. The snowfall had mostly extinguished the fires, but a few faint plumes of smoke still drifted up into the air.

“What happened here?” said Aurora. “An accident?”

Stargazer stopped at the princess’s side and magically conjured up a pair of binoculars. “Most likely not,” he said, gazing down at the wrecked village with close scrutiny. “Not unless a great many griffons accidentally fired a great many crossbows. Have a look, your highness,” he added, offering Aurora a look.

The unicorn’s magic held the binoculars in place while Aurora peered through them. Thick steel crossbow bolts were stuck into the remaining roof timbers, their small, silvery gleams still visible even through the snowstorm. Signs of struggle lay everywhere: axes and pitchforks lay half-buried in the snow, and the presence of stray griffon feathers testified that there had once been many villagers dwelling there, but they were gone now. The village had been purposefully destroyed.

“Who could do something like this?” Aurora asked, aghast. She gazed up the mountain at Gloomhold, and its black stone walls and tall, jagged spires seemed to glare down at her menacingly. Her voice fell to a horrified half-whisper. “Who could do this to their own people?”

Stargazer cleared his throat. “Well, your highness,” he said, voice dripping with condescension, “if King Blacktalon chooses to make an example of a single, small village, it’s entirely his prerogative. It’s his kingdom, after all, and not yours.”

“No! I don’t care who he is, no one has a right to treat anyone this way!” Aurora’s face scrunched up into a scowl. “Even if he hasn’t kidnapped my sister, I’ll have a few things to say to this Blacktalon.”

“You’ll say nothing at all about this,” Stargazer ordered, pausing only to dismiss the binoculars in a golden puff of magic. “We are here – at least, ostensibly – to discuss diamond import rates, not to complain about practices that happen to offend our personal sensibilities. Criticizing one’s allies is a hideous impropriety, and the griffons would never stand for it. Do we really want them to think Equestria’s new Princess of the Night is an ill-mannered, ill-tempered, inconsiderate foal?”

The princess paused, stung by his words, and took a moment to wrestle with her thoughts. As much as she loathed the shallowness and superficiality that ran rampant among Equestria’s elite, and wished that she could do away with all the glamour and pretense, she still worried over what those powerful, arrogant ponies might say if she didn’t live up to their standards. She feared she might lose the kingdom for which the Elements of Harmony had made her responsible. She feared that Equestria’s nobles would never accept her authority in their hearts the way they had accepted her predecessor’s.

But her predecessor wouldn’t care about any of that, Aurora reminded herself. Princess Celestia loved her subjects even more than her own life. Princess Celestia would want her to live up to the standards set by the Elements of Harmony, not the inane rules of decorum that Stargazer and the rest of the court seemed to follow. Once already Aurora had bowed to her fear, when she had chosen to keep Ghost a secret in order to safeguard her image, and the guilt of her dishonesty had been gnawing at her insides for long enough. Hadn’t she resolved to be the princess she was meant to be? Hadn’t she resolved to prove her worth to herself, if to nopony else? If she ever wanted to do that, she needed to get her priorities straight.

“It doesn’t matter,” she finally announced. “It’s still wrong. We should be upfront and honest, none of this absurd pomp. When this is over, I’m cutting off relations with Gloomhold. Equestria won’t do business with a kingdom that treats its subjects this way.”

“I say!” one of the ambassadors shouted over the wind. She was Jade Lotus, a teal-coated unicorn with a fancy, elegantly-coifed purple mane that was currently being tousled by the harsh winds. “I do beg your pardon, Princess, but might we get a move on? This weather is simply abominable!”

“Indubitably!” said the other ambassador, a blue, gray-maned pegasus stallion with a finely-styled Trottingham moustache. Aurora couldn’t remember his name at all. “These are no conditions to hold an argument on the bare mountainside! We must get indoors, at once!”

Stargazer grinned. “They have a point, your highness,” he said, and offered the princess a slight bow. “After you, of course.”

The princess paused for a moment to feel the wind, and understood. The storm was still growing wilder, and the wind biting at her face and legs and every part of her that wasn’t covered by her cloak. After casting one last sympathetic glance in the direction of the destroyed village, she turned and continued to trudge up the mountain path. Just behind her, Lord Stargazer did the same.

“Though I will admit,” he muttered grimly, mostly to himself, “burning their own villages is a new feature for Gloomhold. Still, we mustn’t judge. Their business, not ours.”

The climb up the mountain path was harrowing. The wind blew louder and stronger and faster, nearly becoming a gale, swirling about them and moaning in a loud, ghostly voice that sounded like a thousand timberwolves howling in unison. Snow blew from all directions, blurring their vision and turning the entire view from the mountainside into a vast expanse of white. Stargazer and Aurora lit their horns to provide guiding lanterns for the ambassadors and their aides, but the going was harder with every step. By the time they reached the castle, the princess was freezing, exhausted, and fuming.

The wooden gates of Gloomhold were tall, thick, and covered in ornate iron decorations. Frost and ice had formed over the doorway, appearing to seal it shut. Aurora raised a hoof and pounded on them thrice, but even after a minute there was no response; the doors remained closed.

“Strange,” said Stargazer, raising his voice over the wind. “They’ve known we were coming for weeks. Surely, surely they wouldn’t deliberately insult us by shutting us out in the cold.” He turned to Aurora, meeting her gaze with knowing eyes. “Unless, of course, they have something to hide.”

Aurora frowned. “Can you locate her at this range?”

“Well, your highness, I can certainly try.” The unicorn lowered his head and let his eyes fall shut. His horn began to glow with a slow, pulsating gold light. When Aurora concentrated, she felt rippling waves of magic emanating from his horn. Then she sensed them passing through her, through the rocky mountainside, through the wintry air, through the great wooden gates. Ordinarily, a locator spell worked like an echo: waves would go out in all directions, and if the target object were in range, some of the waves would bounce off of it and return to the spellcaster. But even after several seconds had passed, Aurora could not sense any of the waves returning. Suddenly, Stargazer winced and reeled backwards, rubbing his pained head with a hoof.

“Much though it pains me to admit it,” Stargazer said at last, “No, I can’t locate her. But she may yet be here. There’s far too much background noise – perhaps some other force in the air causing interference. Otherwise, of course, I’d be able to find our lost princess with no difficulty at all….”

Aurora’s frown deepened. Corona was here, she knew it, and the spell’s failure only confirmed it for her. “We need to get inside,” she said, deepening her voice and standing at full height. Her cold eyes glared down at Stargazer. “Open the doors,” she commanded.

“Princess, we can’t simply break open their gates! It would be an unpardonable faux pas on our – ”

“Do it!”

There was a brief space of silence, and the princess and the magician regarded each other coolly. There was a fierce authority in Aurora’s glaring eyes, and a quiet, burning resentment in Stargazer’s. Then, at length, the unicorn heaved an exasperated sigh. “As you wish, your highness.”

He closed his eyes again, took a deep breath, and concentrated. As his horn began to glow, a golden light crept up from the ground and covered the great gates in its radiance, seeping into the seam between the two doors and burning through the frost and ice. From inside the castle there resounded a thunderous clunk. Stargazer swayed slightly on his legs, and then slowly, slowly, the doors began to creak open.

“Well,” said Stargazer, “congratulations, your highness. We’ve now violated every rule of proper diplomacy. For an encore, would you like me to tap dance on their banquet table and set fire to their tapestries?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Aurora said, and she brushed past him and walked inside.

The gates opened onto a long, wide room with stone floors and a high, arched ceiling supported by many columns. There was no light, and no windows; torches hung on hooks along the walls and on the pillars, but none were lit. Curiously, cautiously, the princess stepped forward into the shadows, and the other ponies followed close behind her. Once safely inside, she took off her hood and shook herself, dislodging a great deal of snow that had settled on her back and neck. Stargazer shut the gates behind them, and Aurora shivered; even though they were out of the wind, the air indoors was still well below freezing.

“Curious,” said Jade Lotus. “Shouldn’t they already have a reception waiting for us?”

“Curious indeed,” said Stargazer. He lit his horn like a lantern again, and a soft golden glow illuminated the hall. It was empty, save for the five of them. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and tense, full of caution and suspicion. “At the very least, one would think they’d have some guards at the gate.”

The two aides sat on the floor, panting and gasping for breath from having carried the ambassadors’ baggage all the way up the mountain. Aurora cast a thankful, sympathetic smile in their direction, and then turned away to light the shadows with her own horn. Silvery moonlight spilled across the dark stone floor, revealing spidery fingers of ice and frost that crawled over the stone tiles, up the walls, and around the columns. She thought she could see something moving around in the shadows some distance away, but there wasn’t enough light. She listened intently, and somewhere down the hall ahead of her, talons were clicking across the floor.

“Well, we certainly can’t hold negotiations with an empty castle,” the mustachioed ambassador said. “Perhaps they’d rather we come back another time?”

Suddenly, a pair of eyes shone in Aurora’s light. The princess nearly jumped. A brown-feathered griffon stepped forward out of the shadows, small and scrawny and trembling nervously.

“Ahem – p-p-p-pardon me, but, but,” she stuttered, coughing, “you wouldn’t happen to be – *cough* – the ambassadors from Equestria, by any chance?”

“Ah! At last!” Stargazer said, trotting over quickly to join Aurora. “Indeed we are,” he answered the griffon, filling his voice with as much pompous charm as he could muster. “And you have the honor of addressing Princess Aurora herself. These are Ambassadors Marble Lotus and Sir Abacus Posh, and I am Lord Stargazer of the Arcane University. We respectfully request an audience with His Majesty, King Ragnar Blacktalon.”

“Opinicus at your service, honored guests,” the griffon replied, bowing deeply. “But, but I’m afraid – *cough* – I’m afraid that His Majesty King Blackatlon is no longer the king of Gloomhold. If you like, however, I can – *cough* – I can take you to our queen.”

“Queen?” Aurora echoed. “Well… yes, that’s fine,” she said, speaking before Stargazer could get another word in. “Take us to see her, please.”

Opinicus coughed. “At once, your highness.” With that, she turned and began to trot away down the long, dark hall. “My sincerest apologies for the long wait,” she said. “Gloomhold has had a rather – *cough* – a rather hectic morning, and we’re still trying to get things back under control.”

As Aurora moved to follow her, she glanced back at the other members of her party. Stargazer’s eyes met hers, and once again she could read his thoughts in the expression on his face: Watch your step.

The hall was indeed very dark, and completely empty save for the six ponies and one griffon. Deep shadows gathered in dank corners, rows of tall pillars marched down endless corridors that vanished into the distant blackness, and here and there enormous thick coatings of ice covered the walls and floors as if they had been painted onto the stone by a giant brush. In the dim light Aurora could see her breath frosting in front of her face, and she thought she could hear Jade Lotus’s teeth chattering behind her. The griffon led them through the empty labyrinth of columns until at length they arrived at a pair of wooden doors set in a tall archway.

“The – *cough* – official meeting room, your highness,” Opinicus said with a bow. Then she raised a trembling forelimb and pushed open the door on the right. “Her Majesty, Queen Quila Warwing, awaits you within.”

Wordlessly, Aurora stepped forward, with Stargazer immediately behind her. Inside was a round, high-roofed chamber with a great wooden table at the center. Here, at last, some pale light streamed in through a single tall window placed at the center of the far wall. All around the walls of the room were deep, shadowy alcoves, and in between them hung long tapestries and red banners bearing Gloomhold’s coat-of-arms. A small handful of griffon officials were sitting and murmuring quietly, gathered around the center table, and they all went silent and stood respectfully at Aurora’s entrance. Only one figure in the room remained seated: just in front of the window, the Queen of Gloomhold sat on a heavy granite throne.

The princess’s eyes widened at the sight. Queen Warwing was a hippogriff, and a very young one by her appearance – probably even younger than Aurora herself. She was dressed in full battle armor, including a grim, silver-plated helmet, as was customary among griffon royalty. On a chain around her neck hung a small blue gem that seemed to sparkle and glow with a light of its own. When the queen’s gaze fell upon the princess and her party, she smirked, but there was a distinct glint of unease in her eyes. Briefly, she exchanged a glance with a black-coated pegasus, also clad in armor, who sat beside the throne. He nodded to her, and she rose and cleared her throat.

“Welcome, honored guests,” she said, speaking in a young voice that was careful, measured, and slightly false, like an inexperienced actor reciting her lines. “Am I addressing the delegation from Equestria?”

“That we are, Your Majesty,” Stargazer answered before Aurora could speak. He stepped forward and bowed. “I speak for her highness, Princess Aurora. If we’ve arrived at an inconvenient time, you have our sincerest apologies. But, hopefully, we can get our trade negotiations underway without any further delay. Now, if I may beg Your Majesty’s momentary indulgence….”

While Stargazer spoke, rattling off a long train of formal salutations, Aurora kept her eyes on Quila’s face. There was something in the queen’s expression that she recognized, a familiar look of worry that she knew well. Though Quila’s beak was curled into a smug grin, her rose-colored eyes were full of trepidation and discomfort, and her face under her helmet seemed small and childlike; clearly she was not accustomed to sitting on that throne. For a moment their gazes met, and at once Quila’s eyes darted nervously away. Aurora frowned, furrowing her brow. Outside the window, the storm raged on, the howling wind muffled but still audible even in the meeting room.

“…and Sir Abacus Posh, Canterlot’s Chief Minister of Commerce,” Stargazer concluded introducing the ambassadors. Marble Lotus and Sir Abacus both stepped forward and offered the queen elegant, respectful bows. “It is our purpose during this visit to reaffirm the goodwill between our two nations, and to discuss matters of some import regarding the trade of certain precious objects between Gloomhold and the treasuries of Equestria.”

“Yes. Of course. The diamond trade.” Quila’s voice was still stiff and stilted. “If – if it were at all possible,” she began, “might we – ahem – might we postpone our negotiations for a brief spell? As you may have noticed, Gloomhold is in a state of some, er, some disarray at present, and we could use some more time to get things under control.”

“I assure you, Your Majesty,” Stargazer replied, “We understand. Clearly your most honorable kingdom is undergoing a period of transition.” He inclined his head slightly to the young queen. “We are more than delighted to wait, if Your Majesty would be so kind as to provide for us a place to repose during the interim. And please be assured that whatever arrangement is best for Gloomhold, works perfectly well for….”

Stargazer fell silent. The whole room went dead silent, save for the sound of the wind. It was as though everyone could sense it a second before they heard it: a piercing, earsplitting scream, like the high-pitched wail of a trumpet, coming at once from nowhere and everywhere, seeping into their minds, rattling them right down to their bones. The griffons all started and looked about, chattering loudly, frightened and nervous, only to fall silent again an instant later when Aurora’s sharp voice cut through the air.

“She’s here.”

She knew that sound. She had heard it before, three nights ago, when she had battled Somnambula in the Everfree Forest. It was the unmistakable voice of that yellow bird. She was here, somewhere. Somnambula was here. Her sister was here.

“Where is she?” she snarled, glaring up at Queen Warwing. “Where are you keeping her?”

The queen drew back. Her eyes were panicked, and her voice was shaky. “I – I don’t know who you’re – ”

“Don’t lie to me!” Aurora shouted. “I know she’s here somewhere. Give her to me! Now!”

Frantic, Quila turned to the pegasus at her side. “Tempest!”

At the sound of his name, the pegasus spread his black wings and rose into air, flying in a rapid arc around the high, rounded ceiling. On his signal, a dozen griffons suddenly emerged from the dark alcoves that lined the walls. They were huge and burly, clad in clanking, shining black armor, and they carried long spears and heavy crossbows. In an instant they had surrounded the Equestrians, hovering in the air above them and pointing their weapons squarely at Aurora and her party. Tempest landed just behind the group and shut the meeting room’s huge doors with a resounding doom, trapping the ponies inside.

Aurora tensed up, preparing for a fight. The noble ambassadors both let out startled yelps and grabbed their aides, cowering behind them like living shields. The princess noted their behavior with disgust, but before she or anyone else could speak a word, another curious sound interrupted the scene.

It was Stargazer laughing.

“Of course, it does make sense,” he said with a low, haughty chuckle. His head was bowed, his eyes gently shut. “If Gloomhold captured both of Equestria’s princesses, they would have unlimited leverage over the most powerful kingdom in the world, but you didn’t want to tip your hand and risk a fight until you were certain that you had been found out. You think like a warrior, Your Majesty, like a fine conqueror.” His smile widened. “But there’s one thing you neglected when you drew up your battle plan, one factor you didn’t take into consideration.”

He raised his head, and his eyes blazed with a golden light. “Me.”

Light flashed from his horn, and a wind swirled around the room. The griffon guards reeled back as their weapons were yanked out of their talons by an invisible force. Dozens of spears and crossbows lifted into the air and turned back against their wielders, held in place by a magical aura of sparkling gold. Stargazer’s eyes moved in a circle about the room, glaring with clear intent at each of the disarmed griffons. One by one, the soldiers bowed their heads in surrender.

“Now,” the unicorn continued, turning back to the queen, “if you wouldn’t mind, Your Majesty, it would appear we have some new matters to discuss. First of all, Princess Aurora’s….”

“Boreas… Caisias….”

Quila wasn’t listening. Her eyes were shut, and with one trembling talon pressed against the pendant around her neck, she whispered a strange chant in a shaky voice. A high-pitched ringing resounded in the meeting hall, and the glowing gem flashed with a spark of blue lightning.

“Thraskias… Aparctias….”

A stiff, swirling breeze rose in the room, far stronger than the one Stargazer’s magic had generated. The howling of the wind outside grew in volume into a ferocious, animalistic frenzy. Aurora winced as the frigid air bit at her, stinging her face with tiny particles of ice. Stargazer dropped the griffons’ weapons, which fell clattering to the stone floor, and turned to focus his energies on the queen – but he was too late.

“Skeiron… Argestes!”

Behind the throne, the tall window shattered. Icy air blew into the room with the force of a hurricane, swirling about and tearing the tapestries from the walls. The wind howled deafeningly, and ice crept like spider-fingers over the floor and across the great table. The griffons closest to the window were coated in frost instantly and fell, whimpering and shivering pitifully, crashing to the floor as they froze. Amidst the chaos, Quila beat her wings, rose into the blustery wind and hovered directly over her throne, struggling with all her might to control the raging storm.

Aurora narrowed her eyes, fought against the wind, and began marching towards her. All around her, griffons ran screaming, or stood rooted to the ground, their feet encased in solid ice. The princess ignored them, keeping her eyes, and her thoughts, focused dead ahead. Queen Warwing was the source of this madness, she was sure of it. Queen Warwing was responsible for the cruelty and destruction she had seen. Queen Warwing was the reason her sister had been taken from her.

Ghostly shapes began pouring in through the broken window. Pale white, translucent, and howling like mad, they swirled through the air above the queen’s head. Aurora recognized them at once: they were Windigos, the evil winter spirits of hatred and dissent that had nearly frozen Equestria’s founders countless centuries ago. With her magical stone Quila held them in check, but only just barely; her willpower was weak and tired, and the overwhelming hatred was clearly too much for her to bear. She was shivering from head to tail, eyes shut tightly, and frost was beginning to form on the tips of her wings. All around the room, the ice that held the griffons to the ground was spreading over their bodies, trapping them forever as the uncontrolled spirits feasted upon their natural hate.

As Aurora strode slowly forward, a cold, rasping whisper grated against her ears. After a second had passed, she recognized the voice: it was Lord Stargazer, muttering angrily to himself, barely audible over the howling wind. The princess turned her head back, glimpsing the unicorn through the swirling snow. Ice had rooted his hooves to the floor, and was crawling up his legs and back while he struggled to move, fuming and spitting harsh words into the air. His voice was not loud, but the wind carried scattered bits of his ranting to her ears.

“Worthless, tactless little earth pony peasant… why would the Elements ever choose… I might’ve salvaged this mess if she hadn’t… then we wouldn’t all be….”

Aurora bristled. Even in the midst of all this chaos, Stargazer’s words still stung her heart. His pride, his contempt, his arrogance, his scornful disdain, everything she loathed and resented about him suddenly boiled up and forced itself to the forefront of her mind. He was the polar opposite of Princess Celestia, a heartless elitist who cared nothing for anypony besides himself, living a life of pride and opulence and selfishness rather than kindness or honesty or generosity. He and his ilk at court were hardly any better than the ruler of Gloomhold, who burned her own villages and attacked her own people. The princess turned again to glare at the queen, her eyes burning with fury and disgust and hate….

By the time she noticed the ice creeping up her legs, it was too late – too late to change her heart, too late to let go of her anger, too late to move a single step. She was stuck to the floor, feeling the cold touch of the Windigos’ deathly magic spreading across her body like an icy breath, freezing her tail, inching up her back, trapping her wings against her sides. She squirmed, shook herself, fought with all her might, but there was nothing she could do. The ice kept spreading.

Time slowed to a crawl. The world spun. Suddenly Aurora felt very small, and feeble. Around her, the snowy wind howled and whirled in a chaotic merry-go-round, and griffons and ponies screamed and struggled and froze solid, and the queen hovered in mid-air above the throne, writhing and fighting desperately for control. The princess closed her eyes tight and shut them all out. As the growing ice reached the back of her neck, she felt tears gathering behind her eyes. She wasn’t Princess Aurora anymore. She was just Blue Moon again, and she was helpless and afraid and so choked with anger and hate that she couldn’t even breathe.

At that moment, a loud bang echoed from somewhere behind her, accompanied by the sound of splintering wood. Another voice found her. It sounded faint and distant, like a muffled shout carried on the wind, but she knew it. She knew the voice the instant she heard it. It was calling her name.

“Blue!”

17: Ascension (Part 3)

Blue Moon shivered in fear. Her hooves stood rooted to some invisible floor, and above her, beneath her, all around her, stretched an infinite, inky nighttime sky. Everywhere she looked, she saw stars – huge radiant stars, faint distant stars, white stars, blue stars, tiny purple stars. A thin, glowing mist filled the air around her, softly blurring her vision; if her sister was still close by, she couldn’t see her. She wasn’t even sure whether she was dreaming – shouldn’t she be afraid now? How was she breathing? How did she get here? Where was here, for that matter?

“H…hello?” she said nervously, and her voice echoed in the cavernous void.

She was not prepared for the response she got.

It was a Voice. No, it was six Voices, speaking as one – or was it only one Voice, echoing six times in the void? She couldn’t tell. It was loud beyond description, loud enough to rattle her bones, and yet it made no sound, as though it were speaking not to her ears but to her heart. Its tone was warm and rich, deep and vast, like the voice of the ocean, and made her feel tiny, like a speck. But she was sure that it was the very Voice she and Summer had heard Calling to them mere minutes ago; when it spoke, the unbearable, aching emptiness in her heart was suddenly filled. It was intoxicating, enrapturing, surrounding her, soothing her. It was as if nothing else existed but the Voice.

Blue Moon, it said. You have been chosen.

She wanted to echo, “Chosen?” but the words stuck in her throat. She had a feeling that, if she had spoken, her voice would have been drowned out anyway. The Voice continued.

And now, it said, you are being given a choice. You can embrace your destiny, enter a new life, and become something more than you are now. Or, you can go on living as before.

Blue couldn’t believe her ears. Her destiny? A new life? Perhaps… perhaps this was the answer she had been waiting for. Princess Celestia’s visit to her parents all those years ago, her mysterious moon-shaped Cutie Mark, even that strange feeling of never knowing what she was meant to do with her life – this was the answer to all of it.

But… what was this, exactly?

“What do you mean? What is my destiny?” she wanted to ask. But again, the words wouldn’t come. Blue couldn’t explain it, but she felt like she didn’t need to know the answer. Something in the voice filled her with an unearthly calm, an assurance beyond all doubt that whatever it held in store for her, this was what she was born for. This was what she was meant to do.

For a few breathless moments, she weighed her options, considered possibilities. What did the Voice mean, “enter a new life? Become something more?” What would she have to leave behind? Her home? Her dreams? Her parents? Her sister? What if her new life didn’t have any of those things? How could she ever be happy with it?

But, the longer she waited in silence, the more powerful the aching, longing feeling in her heart grew. The Voice was the fulfillment of yearnings she never even knew she had, deeper hopes and wishes than she had ever recognized in herself in all the years of her life. Whatever the Voice promised, she sensed – somehow, she knew – that it was something greater and more wonderful than anything she would ever have chosen for herself.

Timidly, she raised her voice at last. “I… I accept.”

The stars glowed brighter, and the mist grew thicker. The Voice spoke again in an ever deeper pitch, a commanding rumble, ancient and infinite, like a voice from the heart of a star. A deep shudder ran through Blue’s body as the Voice shook her to her core.

Go! it cried. And bear in thee now a new name!

A blinding flash of white light filled Blue Moon’s vision, and a cacophonous roar filled her ears. Every hair on her body stood on end as a surging charge of power coursed through her from head to tail, racing like electricity through every vein. It was overwhelming, exhilarating, terrifying. Blue squeezed her eyes shut and tried to scream, but something stopped her: the terror faded in an instant, and something else rushed in to take its place.

It was peace, peace like nothing she had ever felt. It was like her heart had been broken in two, and then put back together again, better than before. It was like she had suddenly found something precious and irreplaceable that she’d lost long ago, something she had been searching for her entire life, and it was even lovelier than she remembered. It was like every question in her troubled, worried mind was suddenly answered, all of them at once, and the answers were more perfect and satisfying and beautiful than she could’ve ever imagined.

Then the light began to fade. The last thing Blue heard before she opened her eyes again was the Voice, crying like a distant echo somewhere behind her. It was a single word, and the tone was so clear and forceful that it left an imprint upon her very soul.

Arise, Princess Aurora.

Tentatively, Blue opened one eye, then the other. She was standing once again in the Hall of Glass, facing away from the chamber where the Elements of Harmony were stored. She glanced behind, seeing the doors to the chamber slowly shutting themselves, sealing the warm, multicolored glow of the Elements within. Blue sighed in relief and weariness – and then she whipped her head around, and looked again.

She had wings.

Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head. Not only did she have wings, but she was taller, much taller than before, nearly as tall as Princess Celestia if her estimation were correct. Her pulse began to race. She shuffled uncomfortably on her hooves, and flexed her wings to feel if they were really hers. They were; and they were majestic, extending wider than any pegasus’s wings. She could feel her new muscles stretching and straining, she could feel the cool night air breathing against every white pinion. Her mind reeled and spun, and she sat down to rub her aching temples. Then her hoof bumped into something in the middle of her forehead. It was a horn. She had a horn now, too.

Now there was no doubt about it. Blue was a princess. A real Equestrian princess.

She might’ve fainted right then and there, if she hadn’t noticed her sister standing close by her side.

“…Summer?” she whispered. “Is that you?”

It was, though Summer had been transformed as well. She was taller and sturdier, with wings and a horn of her own. For an instant, Blue hardly recognized her, so strange was her new appearance. But then Summer turned her head, and saw her sister, and smiled an old, familiar smile.

“Blue!”

They embraced.

“I think…” Summer said, giggling softly. “I think I finally figured out what our Cutie Marks mean.”

“Oh, Summer!” said Blue. “I’m just glad you’re all right. I’m glad you’re still here, with me. I – I didn’t know what was going to happen to you. To us.”

“Actually,” Summer said hesitantly, “I think – I think my name is supposed to be… Corona.”

“Corona,” Blue echoed, testing the sound of the name. It was a beautiful name, but for some reason it didn’t sound quite right. “My name,” she said, “well, it said my name is Aurora now. Princess Aurora,” she added in a low whisper.

“Hey, it said that to me, too!” Summer replied excitedly. “Blue, do you know what this means? We’re princesses now! For real! Both of us!” The golden-maned princess was beaming brightly, eyes full of hope and joy. She threw her forelegs around her sister in another hug. “Now we finally know what we’re supposed to be! Isn’t that awesome?”

“Yeah,” said Blue, half-smiling. “I guess it is pretty awesome.”

They held each other a moment longer before Aurora suddenly remembered.

“The arrow!”

Together, Blue and Summer – or rather, Aurora and Corona – raced out of the Hall of Glass. Aurora was surprised to discover how easy and comfortable it was to run with her longer legs, and she didn’t once stumble or trip over her own hooves. A short way down the hall, they found an open door leading out onto a balcony. The night sky over Canterlot was still and clear; there was no sound, no sign of the falling, arrow-shaped stars they had seen earlier. Pale daylight glowed along the distant horizon as the sun waited for the Princess of the Day to raise it into the sky, and an eerie calm hung over the city like a fog. It unnerved the sisters deeply.

“Blue?” said Corona. “What… what do you think happened?”

“I don’t know,” said Aurora. Then she glanced back inside, down the hall. “Come on. We need to find the princesses. They’ll know what to do.”

A few more minutes of searching and wandering led them to the throne room. Along the way, they encountered no guards, no nobles, no officials, no ponies of any kind. The whole palace was dark, empty and quiet, and with every step their worry grew stronger. When they found the throne room, one of the great doors was already half-open. Voices were coming from inside.

Cautiously, Aurora and Corona crept forward into the throne room – and gasped.

A dozen or so nobles, officials, soldiers, and other assorted palace ponies were gathered in a semi-circle near the center of the room. Their faces were solemn and grave, and even the sternest eyes were glistening with unshed tears. Another small team of soldiers – several white pegasi from Celestia’s day guard, and several batponies from Luna’s night guard – were lowering something, no, two somethings, onto the floor at the center of the circle of ponies, and the sisters couldn’t quite make out what they were. Then guards parted, moving out of the way, and Aurora’s heart sank like a stone.

It was Celestia, and Luna. Their eyes were shut, their wings and horns were scorched and blackened, and their manes, which once floated and shimmered with an unearthly magic, spilled limp and lifeless across the floor around them. Neither of them stirred or drew breath. They looked so majestic, so beautiful, even when they were… they were….

Aurora shut her eyes, trying to hold back her sudden tears. Corona fell to her knees in shock.

Just then, one of the ponies noticed the new princesses. He was an old, gray-maned unicorn with a red scarf and a moustache so thick and bushy it covered his whole mouth. When he spotted Aurora and Corona, his one visible eye widened in surprise, the other being hidden behind a thick monocle.

“My goodness!” he sputtered. “Could it be – yes, they told us about you, just before the end. You must be….”

“What happened?!” Aurora demanded, struggling to keep her voice from breaking.

“The – the Arrow of Saggita, your highness,” he said, and managed to bow his head respectfully. “An ancient living constellation, like the Ursa Major, only far, far more powerful. It escaped the heavens and fell, and Princess Celestia and her sister were able to stop it together, but they….”

He trailed off, lowering his eyes sadly. The other ponies in the room cast down their eyes as well, stricken by grief.

Aurora ignored them, and stepped forward, lowering herself down for a closer look at Princess Celestia – her shining ideal, her role model since foalhood, her hero. Gently, gingerly, she prodded her with her snout. There was no response, not the slightest stirring.

The dam broke. Aurora collapsed, buried her face in Celestia’s mane, and sobbed.

Minutes passed. She wasn’t sure how long; nopony interrupted her. At last she recovered herself, sniffling, rising again to dry her eyes. Then she stood up, and strode over to Luna – the princess she had once feared, and whom she now knew it was her duty to replace.

“I’ll do my best,” she whispered, softly and hoarsely, her voice still choked with tears. “I’ll do whatever it takes to be the princess I’m meant to be. I’ll never allow Nightmare Moon to take me. I’ll honor your memory, and the Elements of Harmony, with everything I am, and everything I do. I… I promise.”

Corona stepped up to join her at last. Her own eyes were red, her cheeks stained with tears. The sisters shared a glance: a brief flicker of warmth lit their eyes as they remembered the joy and peace they had felt not so long ago. Then Aurora stood at full height, turning to address the gathered nobles and guards, and cleared her throat.

“My name is Aurora,” the new Princess of the Night announced. “And this is my sister, Corona. We… we are the new princesses of Equestria.”

That morning, working in harmony, the two new princesses hauled the sun over the horizon, bringing the light of dawn to a new chapter in Equestrian history.

Aurora opened her eyes. “…Summer?” she breathed, so softly she could barely hear her own voice over the howling wind.

“Blue!” the voice cried again. There was no mistaking it.

Corona was here. Her sister was here, right here, in this very room.

And now she was in danger.

The ice that coated Aurora’s body halted its progress, grew brittle, and began to crack. In an instant all the hatred and rage drained out of her heart, and love flooded in to take its place – love, and the overpowering urge to protect the one pony she loved most. She could picture Corona just behind her, small, helpless, her bright eyes open wide in awe and terror, and the image gave her strength. Magic welled up within her, power coursed like electricity through from her head to her tail. She felt strong again, and brave. She felt like a new pony.

With a mighty gust, the Princess of the Night spread her wings, shattering the remaining ice and sending frozen fragments flying in all directions. White light poured out of her eyes, and piercing stars shone in the long, black locks of her mane that rippled and billowed in some invisible wind, untroubled by the storm that raged around her. Her eyes landed on Queen Warwing, still wearing the glowing gem around her neck, and narrowed into a steely glare. There was no more rage, no more hatred – only a clear knowledge of what she needed to do.

A loud crackle of electricity split the air. From Aurora’s horn, a white lightning bolt leapt across the room, illuminating the hall in a blinding flash, and struck the griffon queen squarely in her armored chest. Earsplitting thunder cracked and rumbled, and Quila was knocked backwards, spinning head over tail, and tumbled right out of the shattered window.

All together, the Windigos howled in near-panic, then whipped around and flew out the window as well, bound by magic to follow their master. Immediately, the storm inside the meeting hall died down: the snow that lingered in the air swirled for a brief moment, then drifted and settled across the floor, and here and there a few unfrozen griffons began to pick themselves up, glancing around nervously and curiously. Cold air still blew in through the broken window, but inside all was quiet and still.

Aurora exhaled, bowing her head as her energies settling back down to their normal level. Her floating mane stopped shimmering and fall flat against her neck, and she quietly folded her wings.

Then she turned around.

Corona was there. She was standing, panting to catch her breath, in the archway between the two tall wooden doors that looked like they had been kicked open. Her head was bowed, and her messy golden mane hung in matted tresses over her face. Scratches and scuff marks covered her legs, and her wings, though folded, were ruffled and spattered with dirt and grime. She shook herself, dislodging a bit of snow that had settled on her back.

Then she looked up at her sister, and smiled.

“Hey, Blue,” she said. Her voice was soft, and her crimson eyes were shining. “I knew you’d come and save me. I knew you would, like – like always.” She sniffled. “You’re always taking care of me.”

It was too much. For a moment, there was so much Aurora wanted to say, so much she wished she could do, that she couldn’t speak a word, couldn’t move a muscle. She wanted to run to her sister, throw her forelegs around her neck, hold on for dear life and never let go again, and tell her no, Summer, no, this time, you saved me, and I’m so thankful, and I love you, I love you so much and I’ve missed you more than my heart could bear and I was so afraid I would never see you again – but soon the moment had passed.

A blast of icy air swept into the room through the open window, accompanied by a chorus of earsplitting howls and a series of swift, strong wingbeats. Corona gasped, and Aurora spun around to see what had frightened her.

Queen Warwing had returned. She flew in through the window and alighted atop the great wooden table, which froze solid at the touch of her feet. Her steel armor was coated in a thick frost, with jagged icicles protruding at odd angles, and around her neck the magical stone blazed with a cold blue fire. The same light burned in her eyes, which narrowed into a hateful glare when they fell upon the princesses. She snarled wordlessly, and her ghostly, distorted voice echoed in the hall. Behind her, the Windigos swept into the room again and swirled all around her, weaving through the air in tight, deft patterns.

As she stared, Aurora gasped in horror. There was no sign in the queen’s eyes of the nervous, uncomfortable hippogriff she had seen earlier. Quila had battled for control, and she had lost; now she seemed more Windigo than hippogriff, powered by mindless malice and revenge – all of it directed at the ponies whose magic had stung her so badly.

Aurora turned, and shouted to her sister. “Run!”

Corona didn’t need to be told twice. As one, the two princesses bolted from the room, leaving the frozen figures of Stargazer, Tempest, and the ambassadors behind them. Once out in the hallway, Aurora skidded to a stop and wheeled around, quickly using her magic to swing the heavy doors shut; an instant later, three long, jagged icicles pierced clean through the wood, stopping just inches short of her face. If the doors hadn’t been shut, the icicles might’ve skewered her.

Taking a quick breath, Aurora stepped back and closed her eyes, trying to recall what she’d learned in her endless hours of training, and focusing her mind as much as she could on protecting Corona. A thin, flickering magical barrier appeared over the closed doors, shimmering with a faint silvery light. It wasn’t much, but it might buy them a few seconds.

“Come on!” she said, turning to eye the labyrinth of stone pillars that filled the cavernous hall. “We need to hide somewhere.”

“Right behind you, sis!” Corona replied.

They managed to make it some distance away, hiding themselves behind a pair of wide pillars, before the barrier shattered. The doors broke open and another frigid wind rushed out of the meeting room. Quila issued a piercing war cry as she sped through the hall, and her voice mingled with the howls of the three Windigos that followed on her tail. Wherever they flew, frost and ice followed as well, coating the floor and columns and leaving behind a thick trail of sparkling white. They roared through the hall, weaving around the maze of pillars at a breakneck pace – but, for some reason, they seemed to be going in the wrong direction.

Cautiously, Aurora peeked around the corner of her hiding place. Some distance away, barely visible in the dim lighting, something yellow was fluttering around among the pillars, distracting Queen Warwing and leading her astray. In seconds she and the Windigos had disappeared, barreling recklessly down a long, dark corridor towards the eastern wing of the castle. But then the yellow shape appeared again, having narrowly escaped its pursuers, and now Aurora recognized it.

It was the golden bird. It winged its way over to the princesses’ hiding place and settled on the floor just beside Corona. To Aurora’s bewilderment, her sister smiled down at it.

“What’s that thing doing here?” Aurora whispered.

“It’s okay! Kyrie helped me escape!” Corona answered, beaming brightly. “She’s good, I promise!”

“Really.”

“It’s true!” Corona insisted. “That Blacktalon guy just made her do awful things because he was holding her children captive. But then he died, and she was gonna help me escape so we could find them together. But then the wind picked up, and there was that awful howling, and Kyrie’s song just stopped working, like the noise was drowning her out. Even I could barely hear her. So, uh….” She grinned sheepishly. “I kind of got us lost, looking for you. It’s a big castle, you know.”

Aurora struggled not to smile. “That does make sense, actually,” she said, nodding. The hideous howling of the spirits had drowned out the bird’s magic song, just as it had disrupted Stargazer’s locator spell. The Windigos must have been swirling around the castle all morning, making their horrible racket as they waited to answer the queen’s summons.

“So we were hiding,” Corona continued, “but then we found out you had arrived, and – well, we had to get to you somehow, but there were too many guards around the meeting room. So Kyrie sang as loud as she could, and her song boosted my magic so I could get past the guards to find you.” She reached out a gentle hoof, giving the silent bird a tender pat on the head. “Poor thing. I think she hurt her throat.”

Aurora felt another smile coming, and this time she didn’t resist. Her sister’s compassion really was limitless. “I guess we do owe her now,” she admitted.

She was about the offer the bird her thanks when a sudden gust of icy wind tossed her mane. She turned, and looked: ice was slowly creeping towards them across the stone floor, and the sound of howling was growing louder and louder, nearer and nearer.

They had been found.

“Run!” Aurora shouted again, leaping out from her hiding place. She cast a quick glance in her sister’s direction: Corona was running further down the hall, with Kyrie flying close behind. Satisfied, Aurora turned to face her enemy.

Quila was barreling towards her, eyes blazing, and the Windigos howled and snarled right behind her. Aurora took the space of an instant to breathe, gather her strength, and remember whom she was fighting to protect. Once again, her own eyes began to glow, and her starry mane wafted in an invisible wind. Reaching out with her mind, she caught hold of the queen’s leg in a telekinetic grip and swung her aside as hard as she could. Quila screamed, careening from her flight path and smashing headfirst into a huge stone pillar. Fragments of broken masonry flew in all directions.

As she fell to the floor, the queen turned her head towards Aurora and cried out, eyes flashing in fury. At her command, a Windigo swept forward, passing over Aurora’s head with a chilling whoosh that left frost in her mane. Jagged spikes of ice appeared from thin air in its wake, flying at her like arrows. The princess leapt aside, but a single long icicle grazed her right hind leg, slicing across her skin. She grunted in pain, and ducked for cover behind another pillar.

“Blue!”

Corona came rushing back down the hall at the sound of her sister in pain. She noticed Quila, still picking herself up from the impact, and dashed towards her. Her eyes were fierce, and her horn glowed with a furious golden light.

“Summer!” Aurora cried. “No!”

It was too late. The queen spotted the second princess, and another Windigo swept towards Corona with a piercing howl. Aurora jumped into the open again, and had just enough time to magically shove her sister out of the spirit’s path before it swept by, freezing the stone floor beneath it. Another volley of flying icicles missed Corona by inches.

In the time it took Aurora to regain her bearings, Quila herself had already leapt into the air and closed the distance between them. The ice that grew all over her armor began to extend and reshape itself, forming a functional hoof-axe that jutted from her right vambrace. She shrieked, and swung. Aurora recoiled just in time, and the blade sliced a thick, black lock from her floating mane.

Quila swung her axe with frightening swiftness; for the moment, it was all Aurora could do to dodge. The griffon queen hovered in the air over her head, swooping deftly this way and that, raining down blows from right, left, and above, forcing Aurora to step back with every swing. Even with all the power at her disposal, she didn’t have time to strategize, to conjure up a defense, or even to turn around and run. A chance blow nicked her right foreleg, and another cut a shallow gash in her side, and still Quila pressed her advantage, grinning with maniac glee.

Suddenly, a great many yellow feathers filled her field of vision. Kyrie darted down from the ceiling, fluttering madly and distractingly in Quila’s face. She croaked hoarsely, her voice all but spent, but her intervention gave Aurora all the time she needed.

As the queen batted the bird away with her free talon, another one of Aurora’s magical blasts struck her like a boulder. For an instant the dim hall was lit by a blue-white flash, and Quila let out another scream as she reeled away, spinning sideways and crashing into another column. The crust of ice on her armor shattered, and her steel mail clanged noisily against the stone as she fell to the floor once again.

“Blue! Help!”

Aurora turned towards her sister. Corona was some distance away, shivering and thrashing about, while two Windigos circled like carrion birds over her head. Now and again, with great effort, she would fire a golden burst of magic at the swirling spirits, but her attacks had little effect. The creatures had grown in size and strength, having already feasted upon the warlike griffons and haughty Equestrians, and were now drawing their power from Queen Warwing’s seemingly limitless well of fear and resentment. Already their baleful magic had caused a light dusting of frost to form all over Corona’s coat, and ice was creeping up her legs and freezing her tail.

“Blue!”

“Hold on, Summer! I’m coming!”

As Aurora rushed to her sister’s aid, another Windigo swept down from behind her, passing just to her right. She managed to lunge to the left and avoid the flying icicles that followed in its wake, but her right wing was frozen in a thick coating of frost, so cold its mere touch was excruciating. The Windigo’s proximity had affected the floor as well, and Aurora’s hoof found a small patch of ice and slipped. Her injured forelegs buckled, and with an agonizing crash she fell to the ground.

For a few painful seconds, she lay there, tired, bleeding, cold beyond belief. Stars danced before her closed eyes, and a harsh ringing filled her ears. Then another sound, echoing as though from far away, pierced through the darkness and found her.

“BLUE!”

And that was all it took. Aurora’s eyes flashed open, glowing white once more, as love and concern filled her heart and fueled her magic. A dazzling blue-white whorl of energy surrounded her horn, then spread out in all directions. For a few seconds, the dark castle interior glowed as bright as daylight. Love and hatred met and clashed, and the Windigos over Corona’s head howled in agony as they were washed away like tiny boats caught in a surging tide, swept down the hall until they vanished into the shadows. The ice that coated both princesses dissolved into mist, and Corona ran to her sister as she struggled back to her hooves.

“You did it, Blue!” she said, stooping down to give Aurora a body to lean against. “You got ‘em!”

“No,” said Aurora. Her starry, floating mane had turned black again, and fallen flat, and her limbs were weak and wobbly. She shook her head. “No, I didn’t.”

She was right. Before another second had passed, the awful howling returned, the air grew colder, and the pale lights of the Windigos’ eyes were visible in the shadowy distance, coming closer once again. They were wounded, stung, but far from beaten.

Aurora turned her weary head to glance behind. Quila, ever resilient, was picking herself up off of the floor once more. The gem around her neck still burned with a fierce blue fire, and her eyes still glowed with the pale light of the Windigos, full of pain and hate and the overpowering desire to take it all out on the princesses. Yet another Windigo flew just behind her, and jagged ice began forming on her armor again as the animalistic spirits filled her with their will.

“We need to fall back,” said Aurora, and scanned her surroundings. Further down the hall, some distance from the battle, a single set of double-doors was open. White daylight poured through the archway. She knew nothing of the layout of the castle, or what might lie beyond the door, but right now any hiding place would be better than none.

“Come on!” she shouted, and Corona followed close beside her as they dashed for the door.

Inside was a wide, rectangular throne room built of gray stone, with a huge circular firepit at the center of the floor full of cold, blackened cinders. The wintry wind whistled in through rows of shattered windows, and ice and frost coated the walls and every object in the room. Without wasting another second, Aurora swung the double-doors shut and began erecting another magical barrier around them. But she was weary now, her spell kept unraveling even as she struggled to cast it, and already she could sense the Windigos’ winds battering against the doors from the other side. The shining, silvery barrier wavered and flickered, cracking like glass. It wouldn’t hold much longer.

Then Corona strode up to her side. Her eyes fell shut, and she took in a calming breath as her horn began to glow with a warm, golden light. A second barrier began to form over the doors: warm and golden, just like Corona’s magic. Gently, it slid up alongside and over Aurora’s barrier, holding it up, reinforcing it, infusing it with energy of its own. Soon an extra-thick magical shield of interweaving silver and gold shimmered and crackled over the double-doors; it was not a permanent solution, but it might last just a bit longer.

“Thank you, Summer,” said Aurora. She sat down, letting her mane fall in front of her face. Her heart was still thudding furiously, her dizzy head pounded, and her wing still burned from the deathly cold touch of the Windigos’ magic. Worse still, she was exhausted, just as she had been after her battle with Somnambula. Her legs felt like paper, threatening to crumple under her weight with every step, and now even her horn ached from overuse. The deep well of energy that had fueled her magic minutes ago had been drained nearly dry; only drops were left.

The winds howled on. In these quiet, empty moments, removed from the immediate pressure of battle, Aurora at last began to crumble. Silently, she looked around at the desolate throne room, at the shattered windows that lined the walls, at the rattling hinges of the shielded door, and let out a long, shuddering breath.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry….”

“Huh?” Corona leaned towards her sister, tilting her head curiously.

Aurora shook her head, feeling hot tears welling up. “I just… I can’t… I wish… No, I’m sorry…”

“Sorry for what, Blue?”

“I’m sorry that I’m not enough!” Aurora burst out suddenly. She rose to her hooves again, pacing furiously back and forth as her tired heart unburdened itself. “I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to protect you. I promised I’d take care of you. Do you remember? Back when we were foals. I promised. And – and now I can’t. I can’t protect you from this. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I let you down….”

“Blue, no! It’s okay! We’ll figure something out!”

Aurora continued pacing, fighting back tears, and ignored Corona’s protests. “I thought I could – I thought that, if I just focused as hard as I could on protecting you, it would make me strong enough. But – but it didn’t. My feelings aren’t enough. It doesn’t matter how much I focus, or how hard I work, or – or how much I love you.” She shook her head. “Stargazer was right. It’s just not enough.”

At last Aurora stopped, and turned, staring with frightened, despairing eyes at the doors that separated them from their assailants.

“Nothing could be enough to overcome all that hate,” she said softly.

A quiet second passed. The doors shook ever more fiercely, and the magical barrier flickered and crackled as it strained against the terrible forces on the other side. Aurora collapsed in defeat, letting her aching head rest on the cold stone floor, and shut her eyes tight. Despair settled over her like a thick blanket. Then, a moment later, Corona spoke again.

“No,” she said. “No, Blue. You’re wrong. There is something strong enough.”

“Hm?” Aurora looked up at her sister through tear-blurred eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“We need to use the Elements of Harmony!” she explained excitedly. A smiled adorned her face, bright and hopeful, and her voice was suddenly charged with new energy. “You know, like the way they defeated Nightmare Moon and Discord a thousand years ago! The Elements are pretty much the exact opposite of the Windigos, right? If anything could beat back all that hate, it’s them!”

“But we can’t use the Elements!” Aurora said. “We didn’t bring the gems!”

“That doesn’t matter!” said Corona. “I mean, we always have the Elements inside us! At least, that’s what Mom and Dad always used to say. And Glass Eye, too! They’re what help us live in harmony, and make us generous and honest and all that stuff. They’ve gotta be with us everywhere, all the time, right? Even now!”

“Maybe,” said Aurora. She stood up again, glancing aside in thought, her gaze distant. Corona was right: that the Elements were always with them was something they had been taught ever since foalhood. A half-smile came to her lips when her mother’s words of encouragement from the other day suddenly came into her mind:

“You’ve always been kind, Blue. You’ve brought us so much laughter. You have such a generous heart. You’ve never been anything less than honest. And there’s nopony in Equestria who’s more loyal to the ponies she loves. I know the Elements are with you, whether you feel that way or not.”

At the time, those words had soothed her troubled spirit and filled her with resolve and confidence. But now, as she reflected on them, one item was conspicuously absent.

“But I don’t have the Magic, Summer!” she said.

“Yes you do, Blue!”

“No, I don’t!” Aurora snapped. “I’ve done all the work! I’ve learned every spell, I’ve read every textbook backward and forward, but I still keep running out, exhausting myself. If I had the strength I needed to wield the Element of Magic, I would’ve mastered it by now. But I haven’t. I don’t. I just – I don’t have it in me.” She shook her head. Months of frustration and disappointment were boiling up to the surface, swirling together with her fear and despair in a disorienting haze. She felt small again, tiny, helpless. Like a foal again. Like a failure.

“I just don’t understand,” she whispered tearfully. “I don’t understand anything anymore. The Elements chose us for a reason, didn’t they? Why would they put us – put me in a situation like this? If they knew I wasn’t… if they knew I wasn’t worthy?”

“That’s your whole problem, Blue! I don’t think the Elements work that way!” Even as she spoke, gears seemed to be turning and racing behind Corona’s eyes, as ideas linked themselves together in her mind. “I don’t even think we need to be worthy of them, or anything like that. I mean, all of our strengths – our honesty and loyalty and kindness – if we ever had those things to begin with, it’s because they’re all just gifts from the Elements, right? Gifts! Not stuff we earn. And it’s the same with magic!”

“But, Summer – ”

“Darn it, Blue! Let someone else take care of you for once!” Corona said. “You don’t have to do this by yourself! You can’t do this by yourself. I don’t think anypony can!”

Aurora couldn’t speak. Something had changed in Corona’s bearing. Her voice was stronger, almost older, and she seemed taller than before, her gaze level with Aurora’s own. Her ruby eyes, though still full of love, were stern and fierce, burning with some inner fire.

“It’s not our own power, not really,” she continued. She stood at full height, placing a hoof to her chest. “It’s the Elements that give us everything we need, as long as we let them. I mean, how do you think I raised that shield just now? Before today, I could barely use my magic at all! Now look!” She waved a hoof at the shield protecting the throne room doors. “I could only do it because I knew the power wasn’t coming from me. And you’ve been trying to do that kind of thing all by yourself! No wonder you’re so tired!”

Now Aurora looked at the barrier again, and only now it occurred to her what an extraordinary feat her sister had performed. Her own shield of silvery energy had by now dissolved completely, but the golden one still held up, steadfast against the terrible forces that battered it from the other side. It was impossible, as Corona had said. But there it was.

Aurora’s head spun, and she closed her eyes, sitting down again. Corona settled down close by her side, sharing her warmth, and asked her an old, familiar question.

“Blue… are you afraid?”

There was a pause. “Yes,” Aurora said, and she nodded. “Yes, I am afraid. I’ve been afraid for a long time.”

“I think that’s why magic is so hard for you,” Corona said gently. “All this time, you’ve been afraid of not being good enough, and it’s made it hard for you to trust the Elements to take care of you.” A sad look crossed her face, and her eyes fell to the floor. “It’s been kind of like that for me, too,” she murmured. “I mean, it’s always been you who took care of me. I thought I would always have to rely on you to look after me, and protect me, and – and do everything for me, really, ‘cause I just wasn’t strong enough or smart enough or brave enough by myself.” Then she looked up, and smiled. “And I guess I’m still not. I’ll always need something to rely on. But the Elements want us to rely on them instead.”

“But – how?” asked Aurora. “How do you draw on them like that?”

“It’s easy!” Corona replied, standing up again. “I just needed a moment to think, and remember how much the Elements have already done for me. For both of us. ‘Cause they’ve been with us a long time, right? I mean, generosity and laughter and loyalty and kindness and honesty – they’re all just as magical as, well, Magic, aren’t they? They’re all gifts from the same source. And Magic is a part of that too! Magic makes it all complete!”

A soft, warm smile flickered to life on Aurora’s face. “Magic is the spark that ignites the power stored in the other Elements,” she said, quoting one of textbooks. “I suppose that’s – ”

There was a sharp, loud crack. The sisters jumped, and turned. A long fracture had appeared on one of the throne room doors. A second later another crack appeared, then another. Thick tips of icicles pierced through the wood, sending splinters flying, and stabbed directly into the magical barrier, which crackled fiercely against the oncoming storm and threw hot white sparks into the air.

Aurora turned to her sister worriedly. “Summer….”

“It’s okay, Blue! It’s okay! Just think about the Elements!”

“Are you sure?”

Corona smiled at her. A light glowed in her eyes like a steadily growing flame. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve never been surer, about anything.” Then she turned her head, closed her eyes, and began to focus.

With great effort, Aurora tore her gaze away from her sister and stared hard at the doors in front of her. With even greater effort, she shut her own eyes, ignored the rattling hinges and splintering wood and hideous howling wind, and tried to force the panic from her mind.

She thought back. She thought of those endless springtime days of her foalhood, when she had kindly put her own interests on hold to spend precious time with Summer. She thought of all the laughter the two of them had shared, catching butterflies, planting watermelons, reading together. She thought of Lantern Jaw, and how hard she had worked, and how far she had gone, to remain loyal to the promise she had made – something will be done. She thought back to just an hour ago, of her reaction to Gloomhold’s treatment of its citizens, and how her generous spirit resented such selfishness and scorn. She thought of her resolution to be honest and forthright, and to make up for her dishonesty about keeping Ghost in the palace.

As Aurora reflected, a strange, alien warmth began flowing into her from some unseen source. It was rich, soothing, and peaceful, like a stream of calming liquid coursing over and covering her heart. But the stream was still narrow, choked, as though something were blocking its path.

There was another loud crack. Aurora’s eyes flashed open: another long icicle had pierced through the wood, digging into the magical shield. Panic surged through her, but she shut her eyes again and tried to focus.

But it wasn’t really her, she thought. Those moments, those times when she had chosen to embrace the Elements in herself, they had all been gifts as well. She hadn’t really wanted to put away her books and catch butterflies with her sister, and it wasn’t really like her to laugh at herself when their attempt at planting watermelons had failed. Even her resolution to be honest had come only after she had given into her fear and chosen dishonesty instead. But there had been something else nudging her heart in the right direction, reprimanding her when she made a mistake, giving her the courage to try again. Her conscience, perhaps? Was that it?

But then, she supposed, that was how the Elements worked. When she was feeling hostile, Kindness would enter her heart, putting her right with a little push; when she was feeling selfish, Generosity would creep in, undermining her self-centeredness. And so it was with Loyalty, and Honesty, and even Laughter. That must have been what Glass Eye meant, when he said that she had already been given everything she needed to build a legacy of love like Princess Celestia’s. All this time, she had struggled to prove her own merit, without realizing that it was never her own merit that had made her worthy to be a princess. She had always depended upon the Elements of Harmony, whether she realized it or not.

Even the magic she wielded was not her own, but she had tried to rely on herself, her own efforts, her own will, her own feelings, to power it. And no, she wasn’t good enough, not on her own, not by herself. But she had never really been by herself to begin with.

Looking back now, she could suddenly see it. Whenever she used her magic, there had been another nudging, tugging feeling at the distant corner of her perception, as soft as a breath, fainter than the pale glow of daylight on the horizon. It was Magic, she realized, the Element of Magic itself, asking her to let it into her heart. Even now, when she let her mind go quiet, she could hear its whisper; it was just like the Call, and just like her conscience. But she hadn’t been able to hear it before, not over the sound of her blind frustration, her endless worrying, her fear.

A huge crack split the door on the right in two, and three more icicles plunged into the barrier. The shield shimmered and roiled in desperate, crackling waves, but Aurora barely noticed it.

She had hated Stargazer for his pride. But she had been proud too, in her own way. She had been determined to prove her worth, to prove she was strong enough to wield her magic, and dedicated enough, and full of love enough – all just to earn the gift that the Elements were prepared to give her freely, just as they had given her a kind heart and a generous spirit. Her pride had been the root of her fear, that she would never be able to prove herself, and her fear had become a mental block. But she didn’t have to prove anything to anypony, not even to herself. The Elements had chosen her, lifted her up, filled her with their power from the very start; the Elements wanted to use her, little Blue Moon, to accomplish something wonderful, to play a part in the grand history of Equestria.

Shouldn’t that be enough?

Yes, she thought. She was still just Blue Moon. But she could be so much more… if she would only allow herself to be.

Her lips moved, and words formed themselves of their own accord.

“I… am ready… to… receive….”

And as Aurora’s pride dissolved, her fear melted along with it, and something else flowed in to take its place. The choked trickle of glowing warmth became a gushing torrent, filling her heart to the brim with peace and power and purpose. She sensed something new enter the room – no, six somethings, all glowing and bathing her in a radiance that felt so new, so ancient, so achingly familiar, that it seemed to Aurora that she had known the feeling in some measure for all of her life, from foalhood to now, but now it was here before her, all of it at once, more real and more tangible than she ever could’ve imagined. She nearly wept.

The princess felt her head bow, and her hooves were rooted to the floor by the invisible weight of the august presence before her. Now she recognized it for sure, without the slightest doubt: it was the very same presence she had sensed in the Void, during her ascension those three months ago.

Then the weight lifted from her, very slightly. Slowly, but surely, Aurora opened her eyes. Corona was still at her side, glancing at her out of the corner of one half-open eye. A sudden spark of white shone deep in the black of her sister’s eye, and a sudden, electric thrill ran through the air. Corona nodded, then raised her head, empowered and unafraid. Aurora did the same, feeling the spark flickering to life deep within her own eyes as she did so.

And in that moment, the shield shattered. The doors splintered apart. A ghastly rush of icy air swept into the throne room, dusting the torn hinges with frost. Quila Warwing, flanked by screaming Windigos, burst into view with blazing eyes.

And then she stopped.

The two princesses of Equestria stood barring her path. Their eyes glowed with a pure white light of their own, their shimmering manes floated and sparkled in an invisible wind, and their wings were spread, wide and menacing. Before them, six points of light burned and blazed like stars – purple, violet, pink, crimson, orange, and blue, each one pulsing and radiating with its own distinct energy, illuminating the dark, gray, dingy throne room with dazzling color.

The Elements began to float around the sisters in a circle, slowly at first, then faster, eventually becoming a fierce whirlwind of color. White light, purer and brighter than the pale, unearthly glow of the Windigos, flooded the room, filling it with its own, cleansing presence. A sound like the melodious ringing of wind-chimes sounded throughout the frigid air, accompanied by a low hum that grew louder and louder until the ceiling shook, and the walls rattled, and every stone that built the castle shuddered as the power of the Elements of Harmony ran through the whole mountainside. The Windiogs shrieked and howled, squirming and twisting about this way and that in a senseless panic, and Queen Warwing quaked as the evil light in her eyes flickered and faltered like a dying flame.

Aurora smiled, feeling the limitless power flow through her every vein – more power than she ever dreamed of wielding, far more than she could ever have conjured on her own. She raised her head, chin held high, and at her side, Corona did the same. As they did so, twin rainbows sprang forth from the spinning whorl of the Elements, rising and weaving around each other in a twisted, shining double helix of harmony. They soared upward, rising to the highest height of the vaulted ceiling overhead, before arcing forward and falling, barreling towards Quila with a thunderous roar. The griffon queen had only enough time to open her mouth in a choked, soundless scream before the rainbows crashed down upon her like a waterfall.

There was a blinding white flash. The vibrantly-colored whirlwind that surrounded the princesses expanded, racing outwards in all directions. It passed through the walls of the throne room, flowed down dark hallways, coursed through the dungeons and mines, and flooded the skies of Gloomhold with light and color and warmth. The winter storm that held the land in its grip roiled and thundered in protest, but then the clouds reeled back, driven away by the colossal gusts that followed in the wake of the magical shockwave. A piercing howl split the air, then a whole chorus of howls, all crying out above the noise in agony and dismay, but in moments they had faded into nothing but distant, echoing whimpers. A soft rumble of thunder followed, and then all was quiet.

The blinding light that filled the throne room slowly began to grow dimmer. Aurora strained her vision, trying to pick out objects in the haze. She could dimly perceive her sister’s shape beside her, and another gray shape some distance in front of her, but nothing more. But she felt inexplicably peaceful, warm and content. The overpowering presence of the Elements of Harmony had disappeared, but the comforting glow in her heart still hadn’t left her, and even though she had stopped using her magic, she could still feel her mane floating and shimmering with bright stars.

Then the light faded even further, and at last everything became clear.

The ice that coated the throne room had melted. The frost on the door hinges had dissolved into mist. Windigos were gone, and all trace of their influence had been expunged from Gloomhold’s citizens, its armies… and its queen.

Quila stood, tottering on weak legs. Feebly, she raised her eyes towards the two princesses. They were rose-colored again, soft and weary, shining with unshed tears of shame and regret. On the pendant around her neck, the magical gemstone hung, dull and empty, drained of light and color. It cracked, a single fragment breaking off, then another; then it shattered, falling away into dust. The queen’s teary eyes gently fell shut, and she slumped forward, utterly drained and exhausted, onto the stone-tile floor of the throne room.

Aurora heaved a sigh of relief, and folded up her wings. The fear and stress of battle was melting away just like the Windigos’ ice. She took in a long breath, and slowly exhaled, allowing the tension to flow out of her.

Then she turned to her sister, and gasped.

There was Corona. In the afterglow of the Elements, she no longer looked like Summer Sun, that helpless, frightened foal cowering in a windswept field all those years ago. She was a princess – strong, noble, overwhelmingly beautiful. Her mane glowed like shafts of light shining through billowing clouds, and sparkled like the afternoon sun reflected on the sea, and dazzled like sunbeams splintered into shimmering pinpoints by wispy morning fog. She seemed taller, her bearing more regal, and in her eyes burned a steady flame as warm and bright as the sun. Princess Celestia herself couldn’t have looked more majestic.

Then, as the light in the background finally faded altogether, Corona looked no less regal, no less powerful – but then she turned to Aurora, and a familiar smile crept onto her face, and in that instant she was Aurora’s sister again, her best friend since birth, who made her laugh when she was sad, and showed her kindness when she was weary, and forced her to have fun in spite of herself. And she was here, and she was alive, and she was safe….

“Summer – ”

“Blue – ”

In an instant, the space between them vanished.

“I missed you, Summer. I love you, and I missed you so much, and I’m so thankful you’re all right….”

“It’s okay, sis. Everything’s okay now. I’m here. I love you, too. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

They stood, just the two of them, in the wrecked throne room of a foreign kingdom, smiling and crying and together again at last, and held each other for a very long time.

18: Sunrise

The quiet in the Hall of Glass filled Aurora’s ears. It had been quiet for a long time now; the buzz of chatter that had filled the air had passed out the door, a little at a time, like air seeping out of a hot-air balloon. Gone, now, were the nobles and aristocrats peering through monocles and offering their formal congratulations. Gone were the press agents and photographers, pens and notepads hovering magically in the air in front of them, scribbling down notes while the cameras flashed. Gone were the foreign dignitaries and ambassadors, wishing her well in accents so think that Aurora could do little but smile pleasantly and say, “Thank you, likewise.” Now it was just Princess Aurora and the black-and-white marble tiles and the long red rug and the rainbow-colored moonlight that streamed in through the stained-glass windows – and, there, at the far end of the hall, the tall, gilded door behind which the Elements of Harmony rested and glowed together in the darkness of the vault.

The official coronation of the new princesses had been held in the palace earlier that day – now almost a day ago, in fact, for the night had passed swiftly in revelry and ceremony and diplomacy and, for Aurora, a few precious hours of sleep. Upon their return from Gloomhold a week before, the Council had held a conference to determine how the new princesses had fared on this most recent and unplanned “test” – and had decided unanimously that they had passed. Quickly, invitations had been sent out for their coronation, which would coincide with their shared eighteenth birthday. Even the rulers of Gloomhold had received invites, at the princesses’ insistence, despite the objections of some nobles who felt they were being too lenient and forgiving; but even their protests were silenced when Aurora suggested that the Equestrian government take advantage Queen Warwing’s visit by holding further negotiations that very evening.

The coronation had been splendid. Rulers and dignitaries had come from Gildedale and Ib’Xian and Gryphus and Zebrica and a hundred other kingdoms and nations to pay tribute to the new rules of Equestria. The loud, weighty voice of the announcer declaring “All hail Princess Aurora! All hail Princess Corona!” had rung in the princesses’ ears long afterwards, but not as long as the voices of their parents: Compass Point’s mirthful sobbing and endless, blubbering reiteration of how proud she was, and Tripod’s frustrated muttering about how he had forgotten his camera, and so on. Aurora could still feel their forelegs around her, feel the wetness of their teary eyes staining her neck. Eventually everypony – and every griffon, ibex, minotaur, zebra, and what-have-you – had moved into the Hall of Glass, where a reception with drinks, endless congratulations, and idle chatter awaited. But that was hours ago. Now there was just the quiet.

Now, Aurora stood before one of the windows. It was one of the last in the hall, a new addition just across from the one commemorating Celestia and Luna’s last stand. The new window depicted two winged unicorns, one white and one gold, glowing softly against a silvery-gray background of stormclouds that swirled above a mountain fortress. Around the two princesses, twin rainbows arced forth, weaving around each other in a dazzling, sparkling double-helix, pieced together in an intricate pattern of panes that shone brighter than all the rest of the glass combined.

She cast a glance behind her, at the window the glassworkers had installed a mere three months ago, depicting the former princesses. Then, turning her head in a slow arc, she looked at the tall, strong, gem-studded doorway that she had stepped out of three months ago, full of hope and full of fear, with her sister at her side. And as she turned back to look at the new window again, something caught in her throat. She had been staring at it for so long now that she had lost track of the minutes, something in her heart still could not quite accept that it was real. Accept that she and her sister were on a window in the Hall of Glass, that their figures and their legacy were fixed in elegant glasswork just across from Celestia and Luna’s. She wasn’t sure she understood it or even quite believed it, but there it was.

Tears started to come to her eyes, but they didn’t run. The room was too still, too cool and too quiet, too peaceful to disturb with tears. And the peace filled her heart just like the quiet filled her ears and the rainbow glow of moonlight filled her shining, dark blue eyes.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she nearly jumped out of her skin when, beside her, just to her right, somepony coughed.

“My apologies, your highness,” said Lord Stargazer, clearing his throat. “Just admiring the glasswork. The negotiations have just concluded for the night, and I thought I’d slip in and have a look. I didn’t mean to disturb you. You seemed quite fixated.”

“It’s perfectly all right.” Aurora cast her eyes aside, embarrassed, and blinked away the gathered tears. “It’s very beautiful.”

“Indeed,” he said, his voice as smooth and cool as the glass. “Beautiful, indeed. The magical glassmakers at the University certainly do some rather impressive work. I should know – after all, I did train several of them myself….”

Aurora turned on him with an exasperated gaze, but something in his eyes and in his smile told her that he didn’t take himself too seriously. It was that old, familiar smug grin that she loathed, but it was tweaked ever so slightly – the eyes half-lidded, the smile twisted a tenth of a degree – so that it became almost a parody of itself. Seeing this, Aurora offered him an awkward smile of her own.

The quiet returned, but now the peace had been disturbed. Something lingered in the air between the two ponies. Aurora cleared her throat, quiet and gentle and ladylike.

“Was there something you came to talk to me about?” she asked.

The grin faded from Stargazer’s face, and his eyes went downward. He coughed again, as though struggling to get the words out of his throat. “Forgive me, Princess Aurora,” he said at last in a low voice. He didn’t look up, and his tangled locks of golden mane obscured half his face. “In Gloomhold, I – I said many things that I should not have said, and I have yet to apologize for them.”

“No, it’s really all right,” Aurora said. “You weren’t completely yourself. I have to admit, there were things I wanted to say, things I would have said, if the Windigos hadn’t – ”

“It – ” Stargazer interjected, then stopped himself short, realizing suddenly that he was interrupting, out of habit, the pony who was now officially his ruling sovereign. He winced, but Aurora kept looking at him, her curious eyes prodding him on.

“It wasn’t merely the Windigos, your highness,” he continued. “What I said then was only the culmination of – of, well, of months of….” His sky-blue eyes wandered, searching the empty air for the right word as though he might find it floating in front of his face like a speck of dust. “…of difficulty accepting the decision the Elements of Harmony had made. The Windigos’ power only made it easier for me to get the words out, if you will.”

Stargazer chuckled bitterly at himself, and the grin returned to his mouth, but colder now, empty of mirth. He raised his head, eyes steady and humble, and gazed at the new window – at the glowing shapes of the princesses and the radiant, shimmering rainbows that surrounded them. “But – well – now, I suppose everypony can see for themselves how wrong I was.”

Aurora looked aside, absently swishing her tail, and bit her lip. “I understand,” she said, and her voice was very quiet, as though she were alone in the hall. “I – well, believe it or not, I actually had a lot trouble accepting it myself. That I was meant to be a princess, I mean. I’m still not sure I understand it at all. I still feel… I don’t know….”

Stargazer’s sudden, loud peals of laughter gave Aurora a jolt. He cut himself off when she shot a confused glare in his direction.

“My… my sincerest apologies, highness,” he said as his laughter faded. “But – well – you’ve unlocked the power of the Elements of Harmony, driven the Windigos out of Gloomhold, defeated a warlord, rescued dozens of prisoners, brought peace to an entire nation, and – well, and to top it all off, you saved my magnificent tail from freezing to death. All this after I called you worthless. And you still have doubts? Ha! If I were you, I’d never let me hear the end of it. Actually, I’d clap me in irons and hurl me in the dungeon at the very least.” He heaved a sigh, and the smile on his face vanished as the last of the laughter died in his voice. “Well. Perhaps that’s precisely why you’re the princess, and I’m just your instructor.”

Stargazer raised his eyes to the window again, and Aurora studied his features closely. It seemed to her that a mask had been pulled away from the proud unicorn’s face, revealing the tender, wiser features underneath. “Just your instructor,” he mumbled under his breath. Then the old mask of stern decorum settled over him again, but now it seemed to fit his face more comfortably than before. He turned to her and bowed deeply. “In any case, it’s proper that I offer my apologies, and beg forgiveness of the crown.”

“Well, then,” Aurora said, standing upright and deepening her voice. “Lord Stargazer, you are hereby officially forgiven.”

He inclined his head in a grateful bow. “Much obliged, your highness.” He turned to leave. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got papers to grade. Our little adventure has left me a good two weeks behind in my duties at the University.”

“All right,” Aurora said. “And – and thank you, Lord Stargazer. Good night – or, good morning, I guess. It is pretty late now.”

“Very well.” The unicorn chuckled lightly, stopping and casting a smiling glance back over his shoulder. “Good morning, my princess.”

And when he said my princess, Aurora felt the weight in his words. For the first time she could remember, her magic instructor had given her respect. And meant it.

And as Stargazer took his leave, Aurora stood there, eyes half-focused as she let the moment sink into her. Outside the windows, a cloud passed in front of the moon, dimming the multicolored light that streamed into the hall for only a second, the space of a breath. Then the light returned, falling on her brighter than before, and the princess raised her head as though a great weight had just lifted itself from her heart.

Then – morning! Aurora suddenly remembered herself, as though snapping out of a dream. The negotiations had lasted nearly all night, and now it was almost time for the sunrise. Corona would be back in her room now, probably resting; the celebration in Ponyville had lasted longer into the night than anyone had anticipated, and surely she would be tired.

Drawing a cool breath, then releasing it, the Princess of the Night made for the door and left the marble floor, the red carpet, the exquisite glasswork, the rainbow-colored moonlight, and the precious, peaceful quiet of the Hall of Glass behind her.

Aurora’s silver-shod hooves clacked softly on the marble floor and echoed along the dim corridors as they carried her back towards the tower where she and her sister slept. She felt small beneath the high, arched ceiling of the hallway, but it was not the helpless and feeble kind of small; she felt more like a foal coming home, and the cavernous spaces of the Canterlot Palace seemed welcoming and familiar. The soft red-orange light of the lamps that burned and flickered along the walls gave the scene the appearance of a cozy living room basking in the glow of a fireplace. But something – Aurora couldn’t quite name what – felt just a tad off, as though a draught of cold air were drifting in through a window somepony had carelessly left open. And then there was the tugging feeling at the back of her mind that told her these were only temporary lodgings, and maybe she really belonged out there in the cold – but she shook her head, and her wavy, starry mane flashed in front of her eyes, and the feeling subsided.

Her train of thought came to an abrupt stop when another set of voices drifted into her ear. Somewhere nearby – there, just up ahead, around the corner, someone was speaking.

“…rightful queen of Gloomhold, Majesty. Of course we’ll still follow you.”

Aurora froze, then drew close against the wall. The gruff, even voice sounded familiar; Aurora recognized it as one of the pegasi under Frostbane’s command. Yes, that’s right, she remembered – she was near the conference room now; the door was just around the corner up ahead. Stargazer had mentioned that they had just concluded negotiations for the night, and now Gloomhold’s delegation must be making their way back to the suite of rooms Aurora had offered them for their stay in Canterlot.

Slowly, lowering each hoof as gently as she could on the marble floor, and half-chastising herself as she did so, the princess crept forward and listened.

“…doesn’t seem likely to change any time soon. But we’re working on it, and I’m sure the bird – Kyrie, I mean – won’t refuse to help, especially now that that Stargazer pony used his magic to find her children for us.”

“No,” said another voice. It was a hard, cold voice, but not without a certain sort of tenderness. Aurora recognized it as belonging to Frostbane. “We won’t use her magic on anyone. That’s what Blacktalon did, and I don’t think any of us want more of that.” She heaved a tired sigh of mixed resignation and contentment. “But I do agree,” Frostbane went on, “with the Windigos gone and a new queen on the throne, now seems like as good a time as ever for some changes. Gloomhold needs to change – truly this time, and for the better. Thank you, Tempest. You’ve… you’ve been nothing but helpful, and I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

“No, General. Thank you. It’s just good to know you’re alive and all right. We all thought we’d lost you back there.”

Hooves clacked down the marble floor, fading into gentle, noiseless nothing. Aurora could picture the black-coated pegasus shrinking into the distance as he made his way down the shadowy hall.

For a moment, that seemed to be the end of it. Aurora, deciding that it would be better to move on and not intrude on their privacy any further, started forward – just as two figures stepped around the corner into her path.

It was Frostbane – and, at her side, a very familiar hippogriff. For an instant, Aurora’s breath stopped.

Quila caught sight of Aurora, and her eyes darted away. The young queen of Gloomhold hadn’t spoken a word to the Equestrian princess from the moment their negotiations began that afternoon, after the coronation, all the way till nightfall, when Aurora had excused herself to raise the moon and bid her coronation guests farewell and (briefly) get some rest. In fact, she hadn’t so much as looked Aurora in the face since their battle in Gloomhold a week ago, and in all the time since then she had averted her eyes whenever their gazes began to drift towards each other. But Frostbane looked Aurora in the face, and her own rose-colored eyes shone bright in the lamplight.

“Princess Aurora,” she said evenly, inclining her head in a respectful bow. At her side, Quila’s head dipped in time with her mother’s, but she still didn’t look up.

“General Frostbane,” Aurora answered, uncertainty revealing itself in her voice. “And Queen Warwing. Are the negotiations finished?”

“For tonight, yes,” said Frostbane, her voice all business. After a beat she nodded and, just for something to do, awkwardly swished her tail.

The uncomfortable quiet that descended was suffocating. For a frantic second, Aurora scrabbled through her mind in search of something to say, but then Frostbane cracked the silence with a tentative, almost stuttering voice.

“I’m glad I caught you, your highness. Up to now our only opportunity to speak was during the negotiations, so I did not get a chance to – ” She stopped herself, and her eyes moved to one side, occupied, as though the mind behind them were choosing its words carefully. “…a chance to thank you,” she said at last. “Personally.”

“Thank me?”

“Yes,” said Frostbane, and already there was more life in her voice. The primary obstacle, it seemed, had been surmounted; now the words flowed more freely. “I was – trapped. And I don’t just mean the ice. I had been trapped for years. If you hadn’t arrived in Gloomhold – if you hadn’t driven those… those demons out of our kingdom, out of us… nothing would ever have changed.”

“I see,” said Aurora, “but you really shouldn’t be thanking me, General. It was really the Elements of Harmony that did all the work.”

Something passed over Frostbane’s face like a shadow; her eyes suddenly seemed to gaze back years into the past. “Elements of Harmony,” she repeated. “I haven’t heard anypony speak of them to me in years. Not since my troop left Equestria for the last time.” Now something like a smile shone in her eyes, and the corners of her mouth curled gently upwards. “What were they again? Loyalty, Generosity….”

“Kindness, Honesty….” Aurora said, smiling with her.

“…Laughter, and – Magic, was it?” Frostbane finished, and nodded to herself. Her vacant eyes kept staring at empty space, at something only she could see, as though her whole picture of the world were repainting itself in front of her eyes. “If they ever came to my mind, I’m sure I couldn’t hear them over the sound of those things whispering in my ear. I needed to be reminded of them.”

Then the warmly glowing smile disappeared from Frostbane’s lips, but her eyes kept shining as though some inner light had been kindled behind them.

“In any case,” she said, her voice all business again, “Thank you for your time, your highness. And congratulations on your coronation. I only regret that that we had to meet as we did, and I hope that – that what came before will not hinder our future relations.” Though the pegasus dealt out her words with businesslike precision and care, a certain softness in her voice made it clear to Aurora that she wasn’t just talking about truces and trade agreements. “Well. It has been a long night, for all of us. If you’ll pardon us, your highness – ”

“Actually – I – ”

Aurora and Frostbane froze. The voice was Quila’s. Embarrassed, the hippogriff’s head lowered and her feathered cheeks flushed with shame. But her mother and the princess turned and eyed her with curiosity and surprise; to judge by the look of quiet shock on Frostbane’s face, Aurora guessed that this was the first time the queen of Gloomhold had spoken at all in some time. Quickly their startled expressions softened into gentle, expectant, questioning looks, and both were afraid to say anything for fear of frightening Quila back into silence, the way one tires to avoid scaring away a small animal.

Aurora leaned down and lowered her gaze to Quila’s level. For a moment she recalled the face she had seen in Gloomhold – the face of a callous tyrant who burned her own villages – but she drew in a quiet breath, let it out, and forced the image out of her mind. “Yes, Your Majesty?” she managed at last.

The feathered head rose slowly, timorously, and at last Quila’s eyes met Aurora’s. They were soft and bright, a slightly darker shade of rose than her mother’s eyes, and they glistened in the lamplight as the young queen struggled silently to hold back tears. “Th-thank you,” she managed to stammer out. “I mean, I wanted to thank you, too. And I’m sorry. I d-don’t know what I was trying to prove. But I’m… I’m glad you came along. Everything’s better now. Everything’s different.”

Aurora tried to respond, but her mind was empty and words wouldn’t come. The sincerity in Quila’s soft, youthful, trembling voice nearly knocked her off her hooves – it was nothing like the false, careful tones she had used during their first meeting in Gloomhold, and even less like the snarling, hateful shrieks of the Windigos. And now her face looked so terribly young, like the face of a timid foal peeking out from under the covers; the monstrous visage the princesses had battled a week ago had been washed away by the power of the Elements, and years of resentment and wasted love had vanished along with it. And now her timid foal’s eyes were looking right at Aurora and overflowing with guilt and remorse and gratitude….

It was all Aurora could do to offer a shy smile in return. And, judging by the light that flickered in Quila’s eyes and the way her beak twitched slightly, weakly, into the beginnings of a warm-hearted smile, it was enough.

Frostbane seemed to acknowledge that nothing more needed to be said. She shared a glance with her daughter, took leave of Princess Aurora with a simple bow of her head, and moved on past her down the hall. Quila’s talons clicked across the marble alongside her.

As they walked away down the corridor, their voices, soft but clear, heavy with the weight of painful, wasted years, tense with lingering mistrust and unfamiliarity, yet bright with newborn hope, drifted back to Aurora’s ears.

“I’m sorry too, Quila. And I do love you. I love you so much, and I’m so very, very sorry it took me so long to realize….”

“It’s… it’s all right, Mom. That’s all I needed to hear. I’m sorry, too.”

Aurora shook her head, surprised to find that tears had gathered in her own eyes again. Hearing their voices, hearing those words, realizing the door that had opened between the two of them – an overwhelming peace broke over the princess in waves. It struggled briefly against that stubborn, lingering discomfort, that sense of unbelonging and undeserving that had lodged itself in her chest, and a fragment of the old unease survived and retreated into a far, dimly lit corner in the back of Aurora’s mind, brooding. But she paid it no attention.

Raising her chin and ruffling her wings once, she took a step ahead –

“Ahem.”

– and for the third time that night, Aurora nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Oh! Glass Eye!” The princess quickly recovered herself, reaching up a foreleg to brush away a few strands of starry mane that had drifted in front of her eyes. “And Professor Somnambula. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there….”

“Good to see you, your highness,” said Glass Eye, bowing his head. The old unicorn and his granddaughter had appeared around the corner just as Aurora was about to take a step; both wore their Arcane University scarves, his red and hers green, and both looked more than a little tired. Glass Eye’s tone of voice was even and measured, but the glad crinkles around his eyes suggested that the mouth hidden behind the bushy moustache was smiling. “Our apologies for startling you. I know the sunrise is near, so we won’t take up much of your time. But, with the negotiations concluded for the night, we were all making our way out of the conference room….”

“Right, of course,” said Aurora, greeting them each in turn with a nod. Seeing the princess, Somnambula’s light pink eyes brightened in a flash, then darted quickly down in embarrassment; despite all of Corona’s encouraging words, despite having forgiven herself already, she still seemed a tad uncomfortable around the princesses she had kidnapped and fought less than two weeks earlier. Noticing this, Aurora turned a soft, sympathetic gaze on the professor, as though trying to channel some of her own inner peace through her eyes to the distraught unicorn. It seemed to do the trick; Somnambula looked back up over the pair of glasses perched on her snout and greeted Aurora with a gentle, smiling bow of her head, at ease once again.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for so much of the meeting,” Aurora said. “I take it things went well?”

“The meeting went very well indeed,” Glass Eye said with a nod. “The testimonies of Lord Stargazer, Sir Posh, and Marble Lotus managed to convince the Council to pardon most of Gloomhold’s hostilities – all the blame has fallen upon the Windigos and the now-deceased King Blacktalon. We even managed to revive discussion of the diamond trade, which, if you recall, was the initial cause for our diplomatic visit before all of this business began.” Then he looked over Aurora’s shoulder, down the hall where Frostbane and Quila had just disappeared. “But, in a way, it is even better to know that things are well with our new allies. The Elements of Harmony truly do work wonders.”

“You can say that again!” Somnambula burst in, now fully herself, excitement welling up and overcoming her embarrassment. “The Elements haven’t released that much magic since the Harbinger event – it’s astonishing! We had no idea that a prismic spell could affect an entire country, and the fact that the Elements cast it through a transpositional projection – oh, the new avenues of research you’ve opened up, your highness, I can hardly begin to describe….”

She started to trail off, blushing to realize that she was rambling yet again. But Glass Eye beamed, smiling the wise and infinitely joyful smile of an old and weary-hearted pony whose granddaughter, long lost, had been suddenly returned to him.

“As a matter of fact, your highness,” he said, “it’s in regards to your victory in Gloomhold that I wanted to speak with you – and why I had been hoping for an opportunity to thank you. You restored my granddaughter to me. Her sisters will be delighted to see her again, the real her, once all this business is resolved fully and she can return home.”

“Everypony’s thanking me tonight,” said Aurora. She gave an uncertain little half-smile, eyes cast downward, and she sat down as though a great weight had settled upon her. “Thanking me, or apologizing. And I just don’t know what to say to it all, or what to feel. I’m just – I don’t know – overwhelmed, I guess. I know I really shouldn’t be that way, but….”

Glass Eye stepped forward, resting a comforting hoof on Aurora’s shoulder. “You are a princess, your highness,” he said, “but you are also a young mare who has just assumed more responsibility than any other pony in this wide world – and you have received a gift that scarcely anypony can truly be said to deserve. Perhaps ‘overwhelmed’ is simply how anyone would feel in your position.”

Aurora looked up into his eyes: one bright and gold, the other faintly blurry behind the thick, gray glass of his monocle, and both of them brimming with a mixture of sympathy and admiration. Over his shoulder, Somnambula stood smiling, waiting, with the very same look on her face – along with the unmistakable quiet peace and warmth that lives in the eyes of a pony who has been forgiven and welcomed home.

“If you find everypony thanking you and begging for your forgiveness overwhelming,” said Glass Eye, “then, perhaps, just try and remember that you yourself have much to be thankful for – so many gifts received, so many weaknesses forgiven, and no more than any of us. Does that make your situation any easier to bear?”

Aurora tilted her head in thought, then nodded. “I think so.” Then she smiled and said, “Yes. Yes, it does.”

Rising again, the princess stood still for a moment, tall and regal and composed – and then she fell forward again, crashing down on Glass Eye like a wave, wrapping her forelegs around her advisor’s neck in a misty-eyed embrace.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so, so much. For everything.”

“Your highness,” he answered, leaning into the hug, “you are most welcome.”

On that note, the princess and the unicorns began to part ways – only for the professor to freeze mid-step and swing around before Aurora had made it two paces down the hall.

“Oh!” she said suddenly, “I almost forgot! Your highness, don’t forget to tell your sister – I’m sorry, to tell Princess Corona, I mean – about the Council’s decision concerning Ghost!”

“Right! Of course,” Aurora said, casting a last, grateful look back over her shoulder. One of her first acts upon returning from Gloomhold had been to reveal Ghost’s presence to the Council as a way to make up for her earlier dishonesty; the matter had been temporarily put on hold, given the plethora of more pressing issues at hoof at the time. “I haven’t forgotten. And… and thank you,” she added. “You have no idea how much this means to her.”

“Always delighted to be of service, your highness!” said Somnambula. Then she turned back and, with a few quick, light steps, caught up to her grandfather and trotted along at his side, taking advantage of his willing ears to continue rambling about the University’s new research prospects. As the sound of her voice started to face, Aurora stood, watching their figures recede into the distance of the long corridor, before turning at last, her heart full and her eyes still shining, to make her way towards the tower.

She climbed the long, spiraling staircase, passed by the flickering torchlight that danced along the stone walls, and arrived at the top, at a familiar pair of tall, white doors. Turning to the door on the right, she raised a hoof and tapped once, twice, three times on the thick white wood, just to signal her presence, before pushing the door open herself.

A great yellow mass filled her field of vision the instant she set foot inside.

“Aurora!” The voice belonged to the pony whose forelegs were wrapped around her neck in the tightest hug imaginable. “You’re back! How’d everything go? Did you get to talk to the visitors from Prance and Neighpon? How’s Professor Somnambula? Did they say anything about Ghost?”

“Hey, hey!” Aurora laughed. “Let me breathe, okay? I’m happy to see you too….”

Corona finally released her sister and stepped back to look her in the eye. Her own eyes were a tad bloodshot from getting home late, but the joy that shone in her expression gave her face a glow of boundless energy. Her sky-colored mane sparkled and floated untroubled in an invisible wind, and despite her fatigue, she carried herself with pride; even without her regalia on, she looked like a princess one would see framed by gold in a historical portrait hanging on the wall of a fine art gallery. Aurora could hardly look at her now without being knocked off her hooves.

“Everything went fine – at least the parts I was present for,” Aurora said as she stepped inside onto the lush burgundy carpet. This was the first time she had seen her sister since they had parted after the coronation the previous day; both princesses had been invited to appear at the celebration in Ponyville, but Aurora’s presence was required at the negotiations with Gloomhold, and somepony had to stick around to answer press questions and bid all the coronation guests farewell. It seemed to work out for the best: Aurora was none too fond of parties in any case, while Corona’s eyes brightened at every opportunity to celebrate.

Before Corona could say anything, a sound from within the room caught both their ears. On Corona’s bed, a small creature raised her insectoid head and yawned, smacking her lips and shaking her head once or twice. Then the big green eyes fluttered open, and their gaze settled on the princesses.

“Friends!” croaked Ghost, cracking a crooked but heartfelt smile. “Am – are home!”

Aurora turned to Corona. “The Council’s made a decision about Ghost,” she said.

“They have? What did they say?”

“They say she ought to be kept around, ostensibly for research purposes. That was what Professor Somnambula suggested. And since they’ve never had an opportunity to observe a benign changeling interacting with ponies in a casual setting, well….” Aurora couldn’t stop a sly grin from sliding onto her face. “They think she ought to live here, in the palace… with us.”

Aurora hadn’t thought her sister’s smile could get any brighter, but in that moment Corona proved her wrong. Hearing the good news, Ghost perked up as well; her crooked grin changed into a beaming smile, and her insect wings fluttered excitedly.

“Again, that was all Professor Somnambula’s idea,” Aurora explained quickly. “She’ll be coming around twice a week to check on Ghost and observe, but she’s mostly going to let us look after her – well, us and the palace staff, obviously, once they’ve been briefed on how to care for isolated changelings.”

Corona’s gaze shot excitedly between her sister and her new friend; then a faint shadow crept into her smile, and she lowered her voice and leaned closer to Aurora. “Can… do you think we teach her how to reciprocate love? I mean, I remember Professor Somnambula was worried about that….”

A thoughtful look entered Aurora’s eyes. A night from a week ago was passing before them – the image of Ghost marching steadily along the path through the Everfree Forest, showing the princess, Tally Mark, and Glass Eye where Corona had been taken. “Well, given the way she’s helped us so far,” she said, “I think she’s already learning.”

She turned towards Corona’s bed to address the little changeling, who by now was sitting upright and staring at her with hesitant, expectant green eyes. “You can live here for as long as you like,” she announced. “And,” she added, just an ounce of reluctance creeping into her voice, “you can sleep in my room – for now, at least, until we find a more suitable place.”

Corona turned to her, her head tilted in confusion. “What? Why’s that?”

“I got Holly Sprig to bring up a cat bed. I know Ghost likes sleeping in those – if nothing else, it’s better than the cage they’ve been keeping her in at the University, no matter how comfortable Somnambula has worked to make it. It’s in my room now,” she said to Ghost, “if you’d rather go and continue napping in there. In fact, that’d probably be for the best – Princess Corona needs to get some undisturbed sleep.”

She turned back towards the doorway, her horn glowing with pale blue moonlight, and the door swung open, swiftly but with careful control. Across the short hallway, the white door of Aurora’s own bedchamber was enveloped by a crackling blue-white glow, and it creaked open as well.

Thankful and excited, Ghost hopped down from Corona’s bed and trotted towards the door – but not before stopping to lovingly nuzzle Aurora’s leg. And in that moment, something passed between them like a static shock; Aurora could feel a surge of warmth in her heart, rising and swelling perfectly in time with the sudden purplish glow that surrounded Ghost’s tiny horn. Then the little changeling fixed her eyes on the hallway and trotted out, her feet making tiny clicks on the marble floor as she made her way to the other bedroom. Aurora shut the doors again after her.

Corona eyed her sister; the faint shadow of doubt was still on her face. “Are you sure this is all right, sis?” she asked. “I know you were really worried about Ghost being in the palace before….”

Aurora’s brow furrowed in thought. “Well, does keeping Ghost around seem like the right thing to do?”

“Well, it’s definitely kind and generous,” said Corona. “And loyal, too, in a way.”

“Then we have nothing to worry about, come what may,” said Aurora. “Even if some ponies don’t approve, I’d rather act according to the Elements than bother with what anypony else says. A few critical looks from stuck-up nobles aren’t half as important as that.” She took a few steps and climbed onto the bed, throwing herself across the sun-emblazoned quilt as Corona climbed up and settled beside her. “So. How did the party go?”

“It went great!” said Corona. “Everypony was there! They had a big platform set up in the town square – and it’s a really big square, too – and they strung lines between all the buildings and lampposts and hung lanterns on them, like they used to do at Nightmare Night celebrations back home. Remember that? Well, it was just as awesome as that! Well, wait, I remember you didn’t really like Nightmare Night back then. But it was really pretty and I wish you’d seen it! And there were balloons, too, balloons everywhere! And then right at the begin they let one really big balloon loose for every missing foal who made it back home – and that was all eleven of them! It was amazing….”

“It sounds like it,” said Aurora. She laughed. “I’m almost kind of sorry I missed it. Was there anything else?”

“Oh, yeah! Then they had a big recognition thing for all of the sick ponies who had recovered. Not all of them could be there, ‘cause I guess some of them hadn’t gotten all their strength back yet, but a bunch of them were there! And one of them even made a speech – it was Lantern Jaw’s father, too! And before he went up on the platform, Lantern Jaw and his little brother – Crimson something – they went up and hugged him, and he smiled, and it was the sweetest thing! I gotta admit, I almost cried. I think everypony did. And then he got up to make this speech, and he got a round of applause just for standing up… Didja know he used to be a brigadier? Anyway, he made a speech – I wish I could remember the whole thing – something about how everything works out in the end. And… and then…”

Something choked and trembling came into Corona’s voice, and her lower lip seemed to quiver. “Then he pointed to me,” she said, “and – and he said how, if it weren’t for the princesses, he’d never have seen either of his sons again – and I… I just….” She turned her shining eyes and shaky smile to Aurora. “You wouldn’t think any less of me if I told you I actually cried a little then, would you?”

Before Aurora could answer, Corona was chattering cheerily again. “Anyway, after that there was music – a local band, and their singer had a really high-pitched voice for a stallion, but the horn section was amazing. They went on for hours, and everypony danced. And those three foals were there – remember, the ones from Gloomhold? Salt Taffy, Timberjack, and Crackers? The three of them wanted me to dance with them, but Salt Taffy kept crashing into the other two and Crackers fussed about it while Timberjack just laughed. And Tally Mark and Lantern Jaw danced together, too. Actually, I think there was something going on between those two. They were dancing really close. Apparently they’ve known each other for years, from back when Lantern Jaw lived in Ponyville, so….”

Again, Aurora’s laughter interrupted the story. “So that’s why he requested to stay in Ponyville!”

“Oh, yeah. I think they’re really cute together.” Corona’s laughter rang out loudly and joined her sister’s. “Then even Pink Pearl joined in, though she couldn’t dance all that well because her leg still hasn’t healed completely yet. Tally Mark helped support her on one side, and she managed a couple of steps before she made this really painful face and went, ‘Aw, horsefeathers! Sorry, everypony!’ and gave up. But they all cheered for her, and it was really sweet.”

“Wow. Those Ponyville ponies sound like a friendly bunch.”

“Well, I think they were also cheering for her because she brought so much apple cider. Oh, that reminds me! The food was awesome, too! I tried to stay away from all the sweets, ‘cause you know how they always make my stomach hurt – but then I got this weird craving for cake. And the cake was amazing, too!” Corona rolled over and sat up straight, her joyful eyes drifting towards the window. “Everything was amazing. And now Tally Mark is thinking about making it a local tradition. If they do, let’s go back there every year!”

“If they do, I’ll make sure to be there,” said Aurora. For a few moments she simply eyed her sister as she stared out the window, past the half-drawn curtains into the night. “So how did it feel getting the spotlight?” she asked.

Corona’s brow creased, and she bit her lip in thought. “Even though I was there by myself,” she began, “I felt – it felt real, you know? Like I could believe it was really happening. I thought I’d be nervous, but I wasn’t.”

“Nervous? You’re never nervous around ponies.”

“Well, y’know – being a princess and all, I was afraid that would change things. But it didn’t, not really. I got to dance and eat and talk with everypony just like normal, like when I was just Summer Sun. But I never stopped feeling like Corona, either – and even though I was by myself, I felt like I could take care of things, even with all the speeches and the attention the – what’s that word you always use? – decorum. It’s like… like being Corona didn’t mean that I’m not myself anymore. I’m still myself, but I’m more than I used to be. Like I’m… whole, I guess?” She turned her tilted head to Aurora, a question in her eyes. “Does that make any sense?”

For a moment, Aurora couldn’t answer. Her eyes stayed fixed on Corona’s curious face, but her vision blurred and wandered back into the past. She saw a tiny, frightened foal shivering among the tall, windswept stalks of yellow grass, snuggling up to her side. She saw the tears squeezing themselves out of Summer’s tightly-shut eyes as she held the stunned robin close to her chest while Blue’s own foreleg wrapped around her in a comforting embrace. And she saw herself, cowering against a brick wall on that Nightmare Night so many years ago, and Summer standing over her, asking if she were all right. That had always been the way between them, supporting each other just like Tally Mark had supported Pink Pearl at the dance. Inseparable sisters. Two halves of one whole.

But the pony before Aurora’s eyes now wasn’t half a princess. She was a leader, an encourager, a light in the dark for three frightened foals when they were trapped far from home. She was a hope-bearer and redeemer for a despairing professor of magic who was crippled by guilt and remorse. She was a hero and a savior for a lost little changeling, a liberator for entire kingdom of griffons and pegasi, and an inspiration for her sister. She was all of these things on her own, without Aurora’s help – and only by the power of the Elements of Harmony. They were truly separate ponies now, with the Elements guiding and empowering them each individually. And yet….

And yet here they both were, still together, closer now than they had ever been. They had grown up, they had faced hardship and separation and danger, and they had survived, and they were still together. They were still sisters.

Something surged in Aurora’s chest and leapt into her throat, and before she could stop herself, she was laughing.

“Summer… Corona….” she said, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. “I understand. I understand everything. You’re so different now, we’re both so different, but – but you’re still you. You are my sunshine, and you’ve taken better care of me than I ever did of you.” She sat up straight, then fell towards her sister, her movements as quick and smooth as though they were dictated by gravity, and enveloped her in a mutual embrace. “But you are so much more than that,” she whispered. “You’re a princess. You’re a hero. You’re my hero. And you’re going to be the best princess Equestria has ever had – kind, loyal, funny, honest, generous, magical, everything – because the Elements are with you, I know it. I believe it.”

Corona’s forelegs gave Aurora’s neck a tight, loving squeeze. Aurora squeezed her back and just let the tears flow. “The best gift the Elements of Harmony gave me wasn’t my wings or my magic,” she said. “It was getting to have you for a sister. It’s getting to stay with you forever.”

Corona sniffled. “Stop it, sis,” she said, but there was a smile in her voice. “You’re making me cry.”

“I’m sorry,” Aurora said. She broke the hug, gently, and drew back, wiping her eyes with a hoof. “That kind of came out of nowhere….”

“It’s okay,” Corona said, giving a final sniffle as she wiped her own eyes dry. “I really needed to hear it.”

A few seconds passed in silence, a silence warmer and more beautiful even than the peaceful quiet in the Hall of Glass. Then Aurora turned her head to the window. “C’mon,” she said, moving to stand up. “You’ve got a sun to raise. And then you need to get some sleep.”

“Right.” Corona rose from the bed to follow her. “Then what’re you gonna do?”

“Paperwork, mostly,” Aurora said as she drew back the curtains with magic. “They need my official approval on some of the treaty agreements made during the night’s negotiations. But first – I think I’m going to go for a fly.”

“That sounds great!” Corona’s own horn glowed a sparkling gold as she slid open the tall glass door to the balcony. “So I guess the flight lessons have been going better lately, huh?”

“They have,” said Aurora. “Much better. Mostly because I’m not as afraid as I used to be.”

Now they stood on Corona’s balcony. The predawn air was cool and still, with only the gentlest hint of a breeze drifting in occasionally and caressing their faces. From the high tower, they could see all of Equestria unfolding before them, all the familiar sights: distant snow-capped peaks glowing white under the moon, winding rivers full of sparkling starlight, forests and little villages, railroads and grasslands, and, somewhere, a small town whose sick ones had been healed and whose lost foals had been found. All the landscape seemed dim and muted, as though it lay under a blanket of darkness. Then Aurora looked up: a few pale stars glowed against the velvet canvas of the sky, and the moon she had raised earlier that night still hung heavily over the scene, waiting to be laid to rest.

She turned again to her sister. “I’m here if you need any help.”

Corona drew in a calm breath, closed her eyes, and smiled. “Thanks, but… I’m pretty sure I’ve got all the help I need.”

The sparkling golden glow returned to Corona’s horn, burning now like a torch, so bright it nearly hurt Aurora’s eyes. Then, along the edge of the horizon, a new reddish-orange glow ignited beyond the distant mountain peaks to the east. The glow reached upwards into the velvety-blue of the sky, spreading like long, feathery fingers of rose-colored light. Corona winced, just a slight twitching of her facial muscles, but then she drew in another breath, calm and steady, and when she let it go, a single ray of gold peeked over the mountains. Then another, then another – then at last, as though it were a balloon suddenly set free from its moorings, the radiant golden disc of the sun lifted itself above the distant horizon. Light spilled across the land, light and brilliant color: suddenly the thick forests shone dazzling green, the blue rivers sparkled in the sunlight, the waving wheat-fields glinted with a brownish-gold of their own.

And, somewhere deep inside Aurora’s mind, an uncomfortable draught of cool air was driven out, and the shadows of doubt that sat brooding in the dim corners of her heart were banished forever by the light of the newborn day.

At length, Corona opened her ruby-colored eyes. The first rays of the rising sun shone through her wavy, floating mane, painting it in glittering tones of gold, rose, and fire-orange. She wasn’t little Summer Sun anymore, Aurora thought. She was truly Princess Corona, Sovereign of the Sun, Bringer of Dawn, Ruler of the Day. In that moment, basking in the glow of her first sunrise, she was everything a princess should be.

A single tear blurred Aurora’s vision. She wiped it away – she’d already shed enough tears for one morning – but she couldn’t wipe the smile from her face.

“Wow,” she said. “You really can do this by yourself, can’t you? Guess you don’t need me anymore….”

Corona yawned. “What… what’re you talking about, sis?” she said, and suddenly she stumbled backwards a step, nearly landing on her haunches. “Whoa. Feelin’ kinda woozy….”

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” Aurora quickly rushed to Corona’s side to give her another body to lean on. “I guess raising the sun still takes a lot out of you.”

“Well, I was – ” Corona began, but her words were broken by another loud yawn. “…I was pretty tired to… to begin with.” Even as she tried to speak, her eyelids were already falling shut. “Just… gotta… get to bed now, I guess….”

“Of course,” said Aurora. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Carefully, gently, Aurora led her sleepy sister back inside. With a bit of magic, she pulled back the covers and gave Corona room to climb in and lay her weary head to rest on the huge, white pillows. As Aurora drew the sun-emblazoned quilt up to her neck, Corona began mumbling.

“’Course I need you, sis,” she repeated, already half-asleep. “Of course I do. I love you… you’re… you’re….”

But she didn’t need to finish. Everything Aurora needed to hear, everything in the world, was there in the words Corona meant but didn’t say. And it was enough.

“I know,” said Aurora, her warm voice just above a whisper. “I love you, too.”

Corona’s ears flicked once, and she turned slightly to get more comfortable. Just as she was drifting off, a question, fully formed as though made ready in advance, slipped past her lips on a gentle breath. “D’you think Celestia ‘n Luna would be proud of us?”

“I know they would be,” Aurora answered. “I know they are.”

Slowly, gently, the princess of the night leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her sister’s forehead. “Good night, Princess Corona.”

Corona smiled. “G’night, Princess Aurora.”

Princess Aurora.

For the first time in Aurora’s life, that sounded like her name.

Leaving her sister to sleep, Aurora crossed the carpet with quiet hoofsteps and walked back out onto the balcony. Silently, she slid the glass door shut behind her and drew back the curtains with a little touch of magic. Then she turned and moved to the edge of the balcony and sat down, leaning her head over the golden railing to look out across her kingdom.

A wind came and tousled Aurora’s mane, and for a few seconds, the white stars that glowed against the deep black locks flashed in front of her eyes, only to vanish an instant later when her view of Equestria was again unobscured. Her brow creased as she recalled the day, now only a little over a week ago, when she had flown to Ponyville in the sky chariot. At the time, she had felt that the veil separating her from her kingdom was gone; from her vantage point in the sky, with no walls or windows in her way, the rivers and railroads and villages had seemed to her more undeniably real. Now, letting her gaze drift along the course of the Neighagra River, flowing past little towns and under railway bridges and through thick green woodlands, she felt that way again. It was all real, and it was her responsibility, every last tree and house and little babbling brook.

Could little Blue Moon really take care of all this?

The wind blew stronger, ruffling the white feathers of the princess’s still-folded wings. Aurora stood up again. Now, she felt real, too, every bit as real as the earth and the trees and the rivers and the towns. As real as the sun her princess-sister had just raised, as real as the warmth she could feel now on her face. As real as the six stones that glowed together in the darkness of the vault in the Hall of Glass, whose power she could feel glowing warm and pulsing strong and steady in her heart, deep down in the dark at the core of her being, flowing through every vein and giving her strength when she was weak, courage when she was frightened, and wisdom when she was in the dark.

Drawing in a deep breath, she spread her wings, smiled, and leapt over the railing.

The wind howled and whistled past Aurora’s ears and ran its cold fingers through her mane, but already she could feel it filling up the space beneath her outstretched wings, supporting and lifting her. She beat her wings once, twice, rising into the sky a little with each wingbeat, and a tingling, weightless sensation crept into her stomach. Then she narrowed her eyes, recalling all at once every word, every carefully-practiced movement of her training. Soon she was titling and leaning this way and that, beating her wings again and again to rise into an ascending spiral, circling the high, gilded white tower of the Canterlot Palace, rustling the curtains of Corona’s bedroom window, chasing the wind, rising, falling, breathing in the morning air and laughing like a foal.

And as she flew, her thoughts drifted even further into the past, to a blustery day when she had run out to find her sister cowering alone in the high grass after Princess Celestia’s first visit to their house. She could still hear the chilling wind that had swept low across the field, the way its haunting voice had whispered in their ears as they huddled together in fear beneath the waving yellow stalks. But now the air rang with laughter, her own joyous, giddy, childlike laughter, and the wind in her ears was like a voice saying, “I’ll take care of you, I’ll take care of you, there’s nothing to fear.”

Nothing to fear, not as long as she believed.

And Aurora believed.