The Pillars of Equestria: The Temple of Enyalius

Chapters

The Fallen Apple
The Riddled Maze
Star Swirl Beside Himself With Anger
The New Rule
Cleaning Out The Garden

The Fallen Apple

“You know, in hindsight, following the giant flying snake into a black hole may have been a bad idea.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Stygian,” Star Swirl replied. “That wasn’t a black hole at all. It was very, very dark blue.”

“More of a muddy brown to me,” said Meadowbrook.

“I thought it looked a bit greenish myself,” Rockhoof remarked. “Then again, I was looking more at the shrine. I’m surprised she didn’t thrash it on her way in.”

“Me too,” Flash Magnus added, rubbing his wings against his sides. “Odd construction, too, I didn’t recognise the pillar style. Wasn’t built by anything from Epona.”

“Nor any desert ponies,” Somnanbula added. “The design looked familiar, though, I’m sure our scholars would know what it is. Oh, and I saw it more as a dark red, actually. Perhaps it looks different depending on the observer?”

“It’s possible.” Mistmane hmm-ed for a moment, ever the expert on matters of colour. “To say nothing of its texture. Black holes don’t have that smoothness about them.”

Stygian sighed. “Alright, so it was not a black hole. Still, pursuing the thing this far was not a clever move. Does anyone know where we are?”

The seven ponies looked around. The place they were in was dark, and judging from how his companions' voices and the bells on his hat resonated with the place, Star Swirl estimated it was vast. He took a deep breath in through his nose, and felt how the air seemed distant, somehow, reminding him of the early days of Canterlot, when he could look out of his library tower and see nothing but wilderness before him. Looking down, he found that light didn’t work the way it should in here: there were circles of brightness on the ground where their shadows should have been, and the room offered perfect visibility despite having no visible light source anywhere, nothing powerful, at least.

“Let’s see if we can shed some light on the situation,” Star Swirl said.

All at once, the wall before them was revealed, and Star Swirl’s gaze fell upon an alcove littered with floating statues, a three-dimensional mural of sorts depicting a whole host of animals locked in combat. A herd of deer butted heads with a crash of rhinos, a pride of lions swiped up at a flock of eagles that was harassing them with their claws, bats and birds were sprinkled about, it looked like the record of a battle, to be sure, but none Star Swirl could recall happening.

The wall the scene had been placed in was high enough and wide enough to suggest a chamber fit for a dragon.

As soon as his brain registered that fact, he also realised he hadn’t actually gotten around to casting any spell. Something else had turned the lights on for them.

“Ahem,” a voice boomed from behind them. “I believe you’re looking for this?”

The seven ponies turned as one, and Star Swirl’s heart sank. Before him, floating in a shimmering bubble of energy, hung the creature they’d been hunting: Ouro, a giant blue snake and a conjurer of remarkable power, as evidenced by her ethereal tailtip seemingly fading into a transparent night sky, marking her as a spawn of Aurelion the Night Serpent, according to Stygian. Ouro and her brother had been ravaging pony settlements for months, summoning elemental horrors to level towns and threaten ponies into submission. The brother, Boros, had fallen before them a week earlier, thanks to some judicious application of transmutation magic from both Meadowbrook and Star Swirl as well as some quick thinking and an impressive curved shield toss from Flash Magnus.

Clearly the magic hadn’t quite taken full effect, though, because Boros was also present, and hanging in the same sort of bubble his sister was. That was the second thing Star Swirl noticed.

The third thing he noticed was the golden apple between them: about fifty staves in diameter, if he had to guess, making it larger than the two half-ethereal snakes it, presumably, held in its magic. In the center, there was a simple engraving: a capital ‘Q’, in Arcane Ponish, a glyph that could mean anything from 'infinity' to 'the void,' depending on which scholar one asked. There was a yellow halo around the apple, that grew and shrank like ripples on water when it spoke.

“Well, this is certainly a surprise,” it said. “First these two interlopers come crashing into my domain, hoping for a taste of my power, then the fourteen of you come barging in right after.”

“Oh, Sun, Moon, and Stars, we’ve really done it now,” Stygian swore. “We ran right into Mount Enyalius!”

“Oh, you do know where you are, goodie!” the voice called out. “That’ll save us so much time. Not that time is of any concern here, of course. Neither is space, incidentally, so leave direction and sense at the door, please, if you can find the door, that is. I’m sure there is one, somewhere.”

Star Swirl’s brow furrowed.

“What do you mean, fourteen? There’s only seven of us!” Star Swirl called out.

That is to say, Star Swirl heard his voice calling it out. He couldn’t remember calling it out, but he had to admit, he had a good point in bringing up the apple’s apparent lack of basic mathematical skills. Then he looked to his left, only to find himself looking right back.

Shadows parted like mist, more of that confounding lightless visibility flowed into space that wasn’t there a few seconds ago, and the seven ponies were faced with another party of seven. Star Swirl recognised his own eyes immediately, as well as the grey pattern of his mane and tail, even if the mane had been cut short and the tail had been shaven bald for all but the tip, giving the Unicorn more of a lion’s aspect. He did not, however, recognise the hard, toned musculature of his counterpart, or the red snake tattoos marking the arms and legs, or the brown tortoise shell pattern painted on the back, and he certainly didn’t recognise the grey feather pattern over the top of the neck. All of it was exposed, too, since he only wore a wide scarf around his neck, golden and dotted with symbols. The tattoos almost appeared to be a cutie mark that covered the whole body. This other Star Swirl lacked a cutie mark on the thighs, it was certainly possible.

He tried to remember what that kind of pattern resembled, there was some symbolism about tortoise shells combined with lion's tails he'd read about a while ago, but he couldn't place it.

Taking in the situation, he noticed his companions were faced with similar mirror images. Mistmane was met with a Unicorn who matched her magical aura and the wavy motion of her mane, but who still had all the features of a beautiful Unicorn mare in her prime. Rockhoof found himself staring at a stallion as gigantic as himself, but covered head to hoof in all-obscuring plate armour, as well as being blessed with a set of wings and a horn, likewise covered in shiny metal. Meadowbrook looked over to a mare who was her body double save that she kept her mane much shorter, almost in a military fashion, and she dressed differently, with bandages around her lower limbs and no skirt. She also conspicuously lacked a herb pouch, instead carrying what looked like a set of a knitting needles in two little packs strapped to her sides. Somnanbula’s counterpart, aside from being perhaps a lighter shade of pink, seemed to differ only in that she carried a lute on her back. Stygian saw that his counterpart was even smaller and meeker than he was, and that the little thing stayed completely hidden under a long white cloak with green trimmings. Star Swirl thought he caught the glint of gold under there. Flash Magnus, finally, stood face to face with his twin, if said twin had been given a bit more cash to splurge on ornate jewelled armour, short-sleeved but not all-encompassing. The Unicorn could sense the faint throb of magic in those gems, even from afar, but when he extended his senses further he couldn’t detect any source of magic in them, meaning whatever charge they held came from elsewhere. This twin also did not carry Flash’s iconic shield.

“Who are you?” asked Star Swirl.

“I am Star Swirl the Shaven,” said the other Star Swirl. “These are my companions: Mistmane, Tumbleweed, Rockhoof, Sir Flash Magnus, Stygian, and Somnanbula. We are the Pillars of Equestria. Our home continent was frozen over, cursed by monsters, so our people moved in great numbers to this new land. But as we settled we have been met by… new abominations, awoken by our presence. And yourself?”

“I am Star Swirl the Bearded. That little one over there is Stygian,” he pointed to the smaller Unicorn. “The rest of us, also, call ourselves the Pillars of Equestria. Our story is identical to yours, I’d say. Our names are, except for Tumbleweed. Our healer is named Meadowbrook.”

The other Star Swirl looked over to Meadowbrook and smiled. “Ah, yes, I recognise the dress, I think I see what’s going on. Well, interesting as it is, this complicates things. I take it you were chasing the female serpent?”

“We were. We dispatched some of her wisps, but she managed to get in here before we could pin her down.”

“And her brother?”

“Taken care of a week or two ago. We were hoping to take at least one alive, to extract some arcane secrets and aid us in our, shall we say, enduring predicament. I’m assuming it is the other way around with you?”

The muscled Star Swirl nodded. “We were hoping for the same, and for the same reason. Doesn’t take a genius to see what’s going on. We’re on some sort of crossroads for different timelines: same ponies with a different history. The snakes thought they could hide in here, or curry favour with the spirit of the temple, and undo our work, no doubt.”

“Ah, anypony mind explaining what we’re dealing with here? I don’t think I know this one,” Rockhoof said.

The metal-clad Rockhoof on the other team was much better informed on the matter. “This is the Temple of Mount Enyalius. It contains a spirit of change, evolution, one who was ancient when the world was young.”

“Let us out!” The male snake hissed from above, rattling his star-dotted tail in anger. “We will deal with these ponies ourselves.”

“Yesss, brother, all I wanted was to bring you back. Now that you are here, we can return to businesss...” Ouro added, squirming in her bonds.

“Ah ah. My house, my rules,” said the spirit. “I agree with you snakes on one thing: every villain needs a hero to fight, and heroes have eagerly presented themselves to you. Likewise, every hero needs a tragedy, an inciting disaster to define them. I’m glad to see the world still provides as much in my absence. To be totally honest, I’m tempted to let you fight it out as is. But you two snakes are just petulant children, thinking a tantrum will get you everything. Sorry to break it to you, but real power is more than a mere tantrum. Real power is control, absolute and total, like mine.”

Star Swirl’s ears perked when he heard Meadowbrook ask Stygian a question.

“Ah, just outta curiosity, how powerful is the spirit of Inya… Endya...”

“Enyalius,” Star Swirl barked.

“Right. How powerful is it s’posed to be, exactly?”

Stygian gulped, and Star Swirl didn’t blame him.

“Beyond powerful,” Stygian replied. “A force of nature, an entity from a space that cannot be pointed to, a concept given a soul, but trapped by, likewise, conceptual means, high magic. Existing in our world makes it subject to certain rules, rules that can be used against it.”

“Or rules it can use against us.” The other Meadowbrook idly tugged at the bandages on her limbs, tightening them. “Can it break out?”

“Doubtful,” said the armoured Rockhoof. “Mount Enyalius was created by night incarnate, there’s no mortal means to make anything stick here.”

“You are, again, very right, you clever ponies,” said the spirit. “I am a creature of change: I light libraries on fire, I start wars, I cause famines. And as a result, new libraries are built, new ploughshares are forged from the swords, and better crops are discovered. I admit, I was little… overzealous in my charge, and I was put here as punishment. But I have been so, so bored over the centuries, and I've missed so much: plagues, inquisitions, reunions. All I’ve had is that mural to look at. So I’ll tell you what, since this is such an interesting twist of events, let’s have ourselves a little game. You call yourselves Pillars of Equestria, true heroes of a fledgling nation. I want to know if you are worthy of that title, for old times’ sake. I want to know if the heroes of today have become weak without the likes of me to harden them. Show me your worth in a small set of… challenges? Little things, nothing unfair for heroes of your calibre, I promise.”

“We decline,” Somnanbula said.

“I agree,” the other Somnanbula added. “If these are truly different versions of ourselves, then they are as worthy as we are. We cannot abide by having either of these monsters go unchallenged, in our world or theirs, nor can we accept any competition where we might harm our counterparts. We do not leave one another behind.”

“D’oh, wonderful! That’s just the sort of thing I like to hear. But you misunderstand, my dear little ponies, I’m not suggesting a competition. There’s no fun in that for me, you see: a winner for every loser, it’s so predictable and safe. For these games, you don’t need to be the first to cross the finish line, you only need to pass. Everyone can be a winner, and anyone can be a loser. You know: proper entertainment.”

“A tag team with ourselves, then?” Rockhoof said, eyeing his heavily-armoured counterpart. “Not a problem.”

“As long as we can play to our strengths,” said Stygian, looking at the tiny hooded figure next to him. “I don’t think either of my selves could win in a physical contest.”

“We are ready!” Tumbleweed called out. “I ain’t afraid of no snake, bring’em both out already and we’ll be done with it.”

“Well said.” Meadowbrook stepped forward. “There’s no reason for you to be disturbed any further, spirit. We can just step right out of here and be out of your hair. Or stem, I suppose.”

“Disturb me?” The spirit let out a rumbling that Star Swirl could only assume was a laugh. “My dear, dear Meadowbrook, I am always a little bit disturbed. It’s why I was locked in here in the first place, after all. Honestly, you unleash ten plagues and no one bats an eye, but host one little beauty contest… never mind that, you misunderstand. I’m not interested in seeing a quick little brawl between a bunch of ponies and a pair of serpents. Sure, it’s good for a bit of fluff at the end, but there’s no drama to it, no excitement.”

Flash Magnus nudged Star Swirl. “What?”

The other Star Swirl stared up at the apple. “The spirit of Enyalius, what little is known of it, is most often noted for being… theatrical. At least it is in our world, and if we are both able to manifest here-”

“It stands to reason it’s identical for both worlds,” Stygian concluded. “Stars, I hadn’t even noticed there was only one spirit here. Never mind the snakes: if we’re not careful, we could blow a hole through reality itself.”

“Been there, done that,” the spirit joked. “No, the serpents arrived here first, demanding they get their wish, but they declined my offer of proving themselves worthy. I offer the same to you: agree to this small set of trials, indulge my curiosity, and I shall allow you to not only settle your affairs with Ouro and Boros here, but I will grant you one wish, on top of safe passage out, naturally, with no damage done to your world, as stipulated by my bindings to this place. You can even take them alive, if you manage to. What say you, ponies of sibling worlds?”

“May we have a moment to discuss?” Star Swirl asked.

“Of course. I am eternal, after all. It’s you mortals who need to be mindful of time.”

Star Swirl huddled with his companions, and the other group soon joined in. “We should decide quickly, but we’ll need to be certain of what we’re getting into. Can I assume your team is capable of holding their own in combat?”

The other Star Swirl grimaced. “Right now? All except the little one.”

“Same as ours, then. If the spirit does go back on its word and we find ourselves in competition with each other, what then?”

“No pony gets left behind,” said the other Flash Magnus. “From our world or another.”

“And the wish?” asked Mistmane. “You want those snakes alive, still?”

The Star Swirls locked eyes with each other for a few seconds.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” said the shaven one. “Regardless, none of us should attempt it unprepared: wish magic is highly unstable, an untrained mind can melt merely from attempting it. But myself and my bearded counterpart may be able to work out a solution after we learn all the parameters.”

“So we are in accord, then?” asked Star Swirl.

“For better or worse, I’ll shake on it.”

The Star Swirls shook hooves, and the archmage noticed now that the red snake markings on his counterpart’s arms really were embedded into the fur coat, and thrummed with a peculiar magic he couldn’t place. Star Swirl the Shaven actually did have a cutie mark that covered the whole body, except for the thighs. He might have understood that if the other Mistmane had a similar mark, but she didn’t. It was only the Star Swirl in their group that did, for some reason. Perhaps their Stygian had one, too, and that’s why he stayed hidden.

“Alright, we accept.” Star Swirl stepped forward along with his counterpart. “What are the rules?”

“The rules are simple: succeed in the challenge, entertain me, and you may leave. Fail, and you’ll have proven yourself unworthy of my attention, in which case I’ll have to make you entertaining. So don’t bore me, my little ponies; you wouldn’t like me when I’m bored. Everypony can only partake in one event, but rest assured: I’ll make it interesting for you, too.”

“Very well,” Star Swirl announced. “What is your first trial?”

Author's Note

Written during a very busy and stressful time. Basic premise should be obvious: Pillars of Equestria, as seen through a D&D lens, meet different class versions of themselves.

As for how and why these are different classes? That's where I got a little... creative.

The basic idea always started with Star Swirl, that's the main interaction this story hinges around, but it's at the end for build-up and framing reasons.

Here's hoping people like it. There's a lot of references in this one, obviously. Not going to spell them all out, but have fun trying to find them all, I say.

The Riddled Maze

“For this first challenge I’ll need three ponies. Who among you is the fastest in body and mind? Who can make a decision when time is of the essence? Which of you has the steely resolve to decide in a crisis?”

“That’s it?” Flash Magnus asked. “Easy: me, Somnanbula, and Meadowbrook.”

“What?” Star Swirl spat. “This is no time for frivolity, Flash. We need to think this through.”

“I reckon he just did,” Meadowbrook said. “Ain’t no one among us a faster dasher than Flash Magnus, on the ground or in the air. Nopony can beat Somnanbula in a battle of wits save yourself, Star Swirl. As for me, well...”

“A healer proves herself in times of emergency, and you have proven your worth often enough to be fit for this,” Stygian said. “The spirit asked for three qualities, and each of you possesses all three to some extent.”

“Yes… that did almost sound like he was trying to start an argument.” Star Swirl stroked his beard. “Perhaps the spirit is trying to sow some sort of… what’s the word?”

“Disagreement?”

“Yes, that. Very well, if we are in accord: spirit!” Star Swirl called out. “We have chosen our champions!”

“And we ours!” called the other Star Swirl.

“Excellent,” said the spirit as the six ponies stepped forward. “Let’s begin.”

Somnanbula blinked, and her vision filled with stars before she found herself flanked by walls.

“The game is ahoof, it seems,” she said. “Where are we?”

Looking up, she saw what looked like a glass ceiling, higher than the sky, where her companions were looking down from, enlarged as if peering through a lens. The snakes in the spirit’s grasp were not amused.

“Why would you want to play a ridiculousss game?” Ouro asked, her voice carried through magic. “Let’s be done with it already!”

“I agree, sister,” Boros replied. “This is mossst unbecoming.”

“Serves you right for being so boring,” said the spirit. “Pay attention, snakes, and you might learn something. Now, little ponies, the object of this game is… well, written on the walls, really. You are currently in a labyrinth, one of many in this temple. Find the answer to the clues and you are free to go.”

Somnanbula looked at her paler self, and flapped her wings, before looking up curiously.

“Oh, of course you’re allowed to fly,” said the spirit. “Though that does put the healers at a minor disadvantage, doesn’t it?”

“Let’s see about findin’ them clues first,” said Meadowbrook. “We only just got here, after all, there’s no rush.”

Somnanbula cleared her throat. “My friend, do not utter such words where the spirit can hear. You might not like him obliging you.”

The spirit chuckled. “Please, what do you take me for? I’m here to be entertained. I’d never stoop to something so predictable as adding a time constraint just because you mentioned it.”

Flash Magnus dashed on ahead, his more heavily armoured counterpart in tow. “Here’s a riddle, inscribed on the wall. That’s your department, Somnanbula.”

Somnanbula smiled as she approached the placard, with her alternate self beside her.

“I shield your soul, but not your heart. Jester and king, I bind,” she started.

“Beware of where you hold me, though, or your eyes, too, I blind,” said the lighter mare.

“Well that’s just downright unhelpful,” said Tumbleweed. “Kings and jesters ain’t got any bindings.”

Somnanbula tapped her chin, thinking.

“The answer is obvious, is it not?” said the other Somnanbula. “It is duty. Duty binds everyone, and those who hold it too highly are blinded by it.”

Flash Magnus nodded. “I have to admit, that sounds pretty plausible.”

Sir Flash smiled. “Smartest mare to come out of New Gallopsandria.”

Somnanbula’s ears perked. “New Gallopsandria? As in, the Library of Gallopsandria?”

“The one we rebuilt in Equestria, of course,” said the other Somnanbula. “Prince Hisan wrote a letter of recommendation after I saved him, and the bardic college was very welcoming. Why do you ask?”

“No real reason,” she lied. “It strikes me as too easy, is all.”

“Now that you mention it, it is an easy one. Every bard worth her strings would know that answer. And it elicited no response. So if duty is not the answer, what is, in your opinion? Please, I’m very curious to know what your insights are in this.”

“If we have the time, I will gladly compare notes with you.”

A dripping sound came from behind them. Then a groaning.

Somnanbula got the oddest sense of déjà vu, staring at a green slime coating the floor, oozing from cracks in the wall behind them. It moved towards them in an almost slithering fashion, as if there were an intelligence behind it.

Meadowbrook pulled her mask down. “I don’t suppose this is somethin’ y’all are familiar with?”

“No,” said Tumbleweed. “But I don’t like the feel of it.”

The green slime contracted and rose up into a solid oval mass of a body, forming a rudimentary mouth and folds where eyes might be.

“This is one of the other occupants of this temple,” said the spirit of Enyalius. “I suggest you don’t let him touch you; he is a hungry fellow, after all.”

“I thought you said there wouldn’t be a timetable?”

“I never said anything of the sort, Somnanbula. I said I wouldn’t be adding any time constraints. You are in his home, you woke him up, and I’m afraid he is quite beyond any control I can muster. Messy, too, as I’m sure you’ll notice. Never cleans up after himself, the slob.”

The thing gurgled and groaned at the ponies. Then it roared.

Somnanbula shuddered. She shouted at the two Earth ponies “Run! This is a trap for you!”

Meadowbrook turned, but the thing was on her before she could bolt. A tentacle wrapped around her hind hoof and stained her skirt, before dragging her towards its central mass.

For a moment, Somnanbula thought she’d see the other Meadowbrook toss a potion, or sprinkle some manner of magical pepper on the thing, as she’d seen her friend do so often. The Meadowbrook of the other world, though, had a more hooves-on approach to medicine, apparently.

“Let go!” she shouted, before tossing three needles at the thing. It looked like a pointless gesture, until she clapped her hooves. The needles started to vibrate, and the ooze quivered, losing pieces in the process. The green face, if slime could be said to have a face, curled up in fear before its whole mass shed the needles and backed away.

The mares needed no further encouragement. They galloped as fast as they could, while their Pegasus friends flew overhead.

“What do you mean, this trap was for us?” Tumbleweed called out.

“Standard sieving tactic,” Sir Flash explained. “You throw up an obstacle only part of the enemy can get through, like separating quick scouts from slow artillery wizards. Once separated, the two forces can’t compensate for each other’s weaknesses any more, and they can be defeated one by one. You two can’t fly, but we can.”

“Oh, well done!” The spirit chuckled throughout the maze. “You really did pick the smart ponies for this one. Out of curiosity, though: does it change anything about your predicament? Knowing what I’m trying to do?”

“Why, yes, an astute observation,” said Somnanbula. “That does help us solve the riddle of the maze.” She stopped once the coast looked clear, and the group caught their breath.

“How so?” asked the other Somnanbula.

“If the aim is to separate us from the Earth ponies, that means the Earth ponies are essential to solve the riddle. Tell me, what unique skills do you possess? What was that attack?”

The other Meadowbrook presented one of her front hooves, the same shade of blue as the original but a little more worn for wear. “Pretty standard needle technique, you can find it in any monastery. Clap your hooves right, they do a little shake, lets me concentrate my ki, basically.”

Somnanbula furrowed her brow. “Your… key, you say?”

“Yeah, you know, basic stuff. Usually I aim for pressure points, but I figure that thing was one giant pressure point as it is.”

“And you learned that in a monastery?” Meadowbrook asked. “You are a… mow-na-stairic pony, then?”

“A monk, yes. And not exactly, I’m not initiated-like into any real order, but I did learn under them. Star Swirl’s a much more dedicated monk than myself, he’s got real power. I just come from a family tradition.”

“Me too.” Meadowbrook took off her mask and showed it off. “My family was from the southern bank of the Ponos river originally, but we moved to the swamps here when I was little. Five generations of healers before that.”

“Five in mine as well. But we were from the northern bank, originally, and we moved to the dry plains.”

“The northern bank? The desolate side? But there weren’t no medicinal herbs that grew the-oh.” Meadowbrook, and the other ponies, all looked at the Earth pony’s bandages and needles. “That’s what you do: massage and pressure point healin’. Because you never had access to the healin’ herbs.”

“My family made do. Cacti and all. Hence the name: I’m pretty agile when I need to be.”

“And a right respectable do you made. Thanks for savin’ my hide back there.”

“Has anyone else noticed the thing is not actually chasing us?” Somnabula asked.

Gurgling sounds came from around the corner.

“Spoke too soon.”

“No, you have a good point. It’s not chasing us, I can see its tracks. It didn’t even take the same turn we did,” Flash said, flying up above the wall to see. “But uh, is it just me, or is that thing getting...”

The bard flew up to get the same vantage point. “Bigger?”

Somnanbula thought, then nodded. “Of course. Flash, we will need some swift scouting from you.”

He saluted. “What am I looking for?”

“More clues. One riddle will not be enough to figure out this maze, and it was given to us far too easily. Explore the edges, see what we have no time to and make note of what riddles you find.” She gestured to the bard. “We will fly ahead for the healers, try and plot a path out of danger.”

“On it.” With a firm flap of his wings, Flash was gone.

Somnanbula and the bard led the way for the Earth ponies, green ooze slowly creeping behind them, while the armoured Flash Magnus held the rear.

“Is your Flash Magnus not a scout?” Somnanbula asked.

“No, he mostly gets in between us and danger, he does not seek it out on his own.”

“My armour is too heavy for any fancy flying, but I can take a hit and dish it out,” said Sir Flash.

“Glad to hear it. We may have need of that soon. And that jeweled armour, is that, by any chance, Palomino Hill style?”

“You have a good eye for armour,” he said with a familiar smile.

“I have a good eye for history.” Somnanbula bit her lip.

Flash rejoined them, saluting as he flew alongside them. “I found another riddle. I protect coward and brave alike: the coward from his foes, and the brave from himself.”

“Again, easy: fear,” said the other Somnanbula. “Fear binds kings and jesters, it blinds us. Cowards hide in fear, while the brave stop themselves from doing anything foolish through fear.”

“Ladies, I don’t mean to alarm you, but we may have a problem,” the other Flash said, flying up higher above the walls. “I think I know why it’s not simply chasing us, and why it’s growing.”

“What is it?”

“There’s treasure chambers. Gold, gems, it’s consuming them one by one. That’s how it’s getting bigger. It’s not trying to chase us: it’s trying to fill the place up so we can’t flee.”

Somnanbula put a hoof to her forehead. “Think, think. Binds kings and jesters, protects the brave and cowards alike…” She looked up. “Treasure rooms, you say? I may have an answer, but we’ll need to find the right location. Flash, fly ahead, look for treasures. No gold or gems, but fabric: carpets, rugs.”

“What are you thinkin’?” asked Meadowbrook.

“I’m thinking the spirit tried to hoodwink my compatriot here by using riddles with a concept for a solution. It is not a concept we seek, but an object. And our friend over there is seeking the very same thing.”

Bubbling sounds came from the right corner, then the left.

“And he’s growing large enough to cut off our escape,” Sir Flash noted.

“No matter, as long as we find the item first.”

Flash Magnus came dashing back. “I’ve found it. One way in, one way out. Big pile of fancy robes, giant stack, and another riddle. What’s hard for stallions and soft for mares, made of wicker and straw or felt and fur?”

“That’s exactly it. Well done, Flash, lead the way.”

The ponies all galloped ahead, now finding themselves racing against the green tide.

“It’s gettin’ faster!” Meadowbrook called out, dodging a tentacle oozing from a nearby wall.

“It has more volume to eat with. We’re almost there!” Somnanbula could see the chamber at the end of the hallway. Behind them, though, the slime was catching up, emboldened by its feeding frenzy.

Sir Flash Magnus set down and spread his limbs at the entrance to the chamber. Somnanbula gasped as the silvery blue metal of his armour glowed gold, jewels sparked, and a giant bubble emerged from his chest, keeping the green ooze at bay in the bottleneck.

He gritted his teeth as he pushed back. “Go! I can hold him!”

“Do not harm him!” Somnanbula cried out, before turning to the pile. “He may not be in full control of himself.”

“I won’t. But begging your pardon, I’m not sure I could harm him if I wanted to.”

The other ponies fanned out into the chamber.

Flash was right: this was clearly where the thing kept all of its fabric treasures. Precious silk drapes, finely woven tapestries, wizard’s capes marked with sigils of distinction from centuries ago, all of it lay in a messy pile. This was the largest room they’d found so far, too, at least a hundred paces in all directions.

“What now?” Meadowbrook asked.

“Now you need to formulate a tracking potion. Do you have any of that goo still on you?”

“No, I wiped it off to be safe.”

“I’ve got some, it soaked my bandages,” the other Meadowbrook said. “Never drop a fresh sample.”

“Ah, I think I see what you mean to do.” The other Somnanbula grabbed her lute and started playing a quick tune, focusing her eyes on Flash Magnus. “I hope you don’t mind if I give your friend a little boost?”

“He’s gonna need it,” Meadowbrook said as she tossed some herbs together in a pestle and quickly mashed them up with her bare hooves, before pouring the contents into a glass vial and stoppering it. She pulled her mask down and uttered some words, then looked up while the vial started quaking. “I’m puttin’ a mighty bit o’ pepper in this one, Flash. If you want to chase it, you’re gonna have to be fast as lightnin’.”

The bard’s lute shimmered, and Flash’s wings quivered. “Err, I think I can manage that. But what am I looking for?”

Meadowbrook’s vial burst before either Pegasus mare could answer. Flash was, rather appropriately, gone in a flash, following a wisp of magical energy that hurtled itself into the pile. With the boost of bardic magic, Flash could easily track the thing, but once he hit the pile, he was out of sight.

There came a scraping noise from behind them. The other Flash was getting pushed back, slowly but surely, though his golden shield bubble remained pristine. “A little help here! I can’t hold him much longer!”

The other Somnanbula strummed her lute again, and let out what sounded like a lullaby.

Somnanbula herself stared in awe. A sleeping spell? From an instrument? Played by a… a Pegasus?

Such magic still exists?

The bubbling slowed for a moment, and Sir Flash breathed a sigh of relief, getting his grip back on the ground.

It did not last, though, presumably the big blob’s consciousness didn’t register sleep quite the same way as mere ponies did.

“Got it!”

Before anyone could blink, Flash Magnus had burst out of the pile with his prize. He gave it to Somnanbula, who calmly flew past the golden shield and deposited it on the green blob beyond.

“There we are, good sir: your hat.”

The answer, as Somnanbula had correctly surmised, was a hat. In this case it was a top hat, the sort worn by barons and rich creatures of all nations, and made by silly ponies, who often went a little mad from the fumes involved in the making of such things.

The green slime withdrew, and shrank. The jingling of coins filled the corridors of the labyrinth, emptied out now that the green thing calmed down.

“Oh, I get it now,” said Tumbleweed. “He’s a stress eater. He wasn’t angry; he was upset.”

“As well he would be, when he has visitors and cannot find his hat to greet with,” said Somnanbula. The thing before her looked quite harmless now, smiling through the folds of his mouth and squinting whatever passed for eyes. “I’m sure many creatures find him intimidating without it.”

The thing gurgled in agreement.

Somnanbula’s ears perked when she heard her Flash pat the other one on the shoulder.

“Quick thinking there,” he said.

The palomin chuckled. “It’s nothing, you would have done the same, I’m sure."

“If I could, maybe,” Flash replied, nodding.

“What do you mean, if? You never swore on the sacred shield?”

“What, this thing?” Flash Magnus showed his counterpart the golden shield he kept with him.

The armoured Pegasus gasped. “You… you carry the sacred shield Netitus around like it’s nothing?”

Flash shrugged. “I mean, it's fireproof and it works fine as a shield, what else am I supposed to do with it?”

Somnanbula forced out a smile. “Let us not concern ourselves with that now. We did find ourselves barging into this gentleooze’s home, after all.”

“Indeed,” said the bard. “We apologise for the inconvenience, and rest assured we think no less of you for the mess. It can’t be easy to keep things tidy for someone of your consistency, as well as wealth. Spirit! I believe we have completed your trial, no?”

“That you have, and how marvellously entertaining it was to watch. You can come back up now, and see how your friends fare in the next challenge.”

Author's Note

At least part of the challenge was inspired by the Slime Boss in Slay the Spire. Other than that... did you know the term 'paladin' came from a hill in Rome? Me neither, until I looked it up a few years ago. Replacing the hill's name with Palomino Hill and naming the class palomins just made sense, and I've used it before, might as well toss it in here. Gallopsandria instead of Alexandria is a more recent one, and I'm not sure if it's been done already. Tumbleweed and Meadowbrook's different sides of the river is taken from how traditional Chinese medicine, allegedly, started. One school was focused on material components, the 'wet' side with the herbs and whatnot. The 'dry' side lacked such resources, and so it developed more into a massage and pressure point focus. Being from such different locations, the different names were necessary.

The first challenge was meant to show off how similar the ponies are, by taking the three whose counterparts are very similar. It also lets me introduce the reader to the class swapping concept by spelling out what classes these other Pillars are. What classes are the original Pillars, then? Err... that's where things get complicated.

Star Swirl Beside Himself With Anger

“For this last challenge, I’d like to see our two Star Swirls fight the snakes here.”

"Wait, alone?" Stygian asked.

"Yes," Star Swirl replied. "I suspected that might be the case. No matter, we can handle it, I'm sure."

"Without a hitch," the other Star Swirl replied.

Star Swirl, bearded and shaven, both nodded. Without a word, they were blinked into the arena.

As soon as he landed, Star Swirl was beset by a cat made of fire. It sunk its teeth into his neck and dragged him down. Evidently the serpents had gotten a head start.

The cat exploded after a hoof blow from Star Swirl the Shaven. “Try to keep your attention about you,” he said, before unleashing a flurry of blows that dispersed a dozen more of the firecats. Up above, Ouro and Boros shook their ghostly star rattle tails, shaking out more summoned elementals.

Star Swirl growled, then let loose a prismatic sphere that detonated in the air, cutting off the reinforcements before they landed. He took a moment to regain his composure. “I can’t help but notice you are not using your magic. Not any Unicorn magic, at least.”

The other Star Swirl grumbled and looked his counterpart over, judgement clear in his eyes. “And I can’t help but notice you are using nothing but Unicorn magic.”

The caped stallion wiped his brow and cast a shield dome around them. “There we are: bunker shield. That'll let our attacks through, but not theirs. Now, you were saying you lost your magic?”

Fire elementals raged against the shimmering shell. Star Swirl the Shaven waved a hoof in a whipping gesture, and a coil of water shot out, bypassing the shield and snapping the creatures like snuffing out a flame with the impact. “Of course. You must be mighty indeed, if you have been able to keep yours.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Are they just chatting through thissss?!” Ouro shouted. “The insolence!”

Boros growled. “Ssso arrogant.”

The spirit of the temple chuckled. “Silly creatures. You really have no idea of the situation you’re in, do you?”

Star Swirl paid no heed to the conversation beyond his shield; he was more concerned with the stallion he was fighting alongside.

The friendly smile on the monk’s face faded. “You… did manage to get the Sun moving again, did you not? Without losing all of your magic?”

Star Swirl’s heart sank, and he realised where the timeline for him, at least, had diverged. He had guessed, but part of him wished it wasn’t true. He couldn’t deny it any longer now. “No. I attempted it, but the strain was too great. I couldn’t keep it up for long enough.”

The other Star Swirl scowled. “So you are a coward, then, unwilling to make the sacrifice you expect of your fellow ponies.”

“I did what I could!” Star Swirl snapped. His horn flared with anger, and another wave of giant firecats were snuffed out by the resulting wave of thunder. Boros had taken a different approach, and had tried to bring Earth elementals into the fray, little clumps of clay with fists of stone. They weren’t shattered immediately by the shock, but the arcane energy made their texture crumble, and their clumsy attacks only made them collapse under their own weight. The wizard kept his eye on them, still, analysing the process, committing it to memory. He scolded himself for getting distracted, and his other self for doing the distracting. “As if you are any better. Did your sacrifice accomplish anything?”

“No,” came the sullen reply.

Star Swirl looked up. Beyond the circle, new foes sprouted from the conjuring snakes: ice and wind and water, all dog-sized but relying on sheer numbers for effect. He made a mental note of the gestures the snakes were making, the better to replicate it all later. The ice came in the form of scorpions, the wind in the shape of birds seemingly made of dust, and the water in the form of flowing snapping turtles.

Both stallions saw the new designs, and Star Swirl the Bearded saw his shaven counterpart had realised the same thing he had: the snakes were getting smarter. These new elementals all had piercing elements in their design, namely stingers and beaks. They hoped to find a weak point in the white shield.

Star Swirl the Shaven snorted, the red snakes tattooed on his limbs glowed. He struck out, and twin flame serpents were born from the blow. The things spiralled and bit at the elementals, striking down a dozen in one swoop. A follow-up blow from his right wiped out the ice, and for the wind creatures, he took a deep breath in. The feather markings on his neck glowed yellow, and he bellowed out a gust that dispersed the threat. Once that was done, he turned to the wizard. “My sacrifice made no difference in the end, but at least I made it. No one can say I ducked my duty like you did. Tell me, how do you justify it? Knowing that more and more Unicorns have to lay down their magic forever, or their very lives, every day, just to make the Sun rise? What makes you so special?”

“I am trying to find a solution,” he answered calmly. “Developing new spells, increasing my arcane prowess, combining what we can so perhaps we might not need to sacrifice any more one day. Why, do you think less of me because I did the smart thing? What are you doing to stop the sacrifice, I wonder?”

“I am uncovering the wisdom of the ancients. Greater sages than myself will have the answer. These things may hold the key.”

Up above, Ouro and Boros hissed and growled in fury.

“They’re not even trying,” Ouro said.

“I told you,” said the spirit. “If you are boring, I will make you entertaining. These two ponies want you alive. They think your magic might help them move the Sun again. They could wipe you out in a second if they wanted to. Be glad your siblings were only banished. I can’t guarantee they’ll be so lenient towards you.”

Still, Star Swirl blocked it out. A wizard is nothing if he cannot control his own thoughts. “We agree on that, then. But you cannot produce a greater sage, because you don’t have the power to teach. Unless, of course, your solution involves, what, punching the sky hard enough to nudge the Sun along?”

“Scoff all you want. You’re weak, and a coward, and you know it. I made my sacrifice and I became stronger, still.”

Star Swirl nodded. “I can see that. How, exactly? You don’t seem to be using any arcane methods, but from your technique I can only deduce you have some primitive life energy you use?”

“I use my ki, yes, my life energy. The same life energy that suffuses the Universe. It takes discipline to master, and physical development, both things you lack.”

Star Swirl shrugged. “If I can find a teacher, I’d be happy to give it a shot. Who was your master?”

“I was taught by the monks of the Svarog Order. I doubt they’d accept the likes of you, though.”

“They’d be hard-pressed to, I imagine. The Svarog Order perished ages ago.”

Star Swirl the Shaven's snake tattoos glowed bright red for a moment. “What?”

“Svarog? The Monks of the Sun Temple? Their order was destroyed, their books burned, their history all but erased. About three centuries ago, in my world. I'm one of, oh, let's say six ponies who remember that name? Maybe seven, depending on well my pupils are getting along with their homework.”

The turtle marks on his back flared a clear blue at that. “The druids, then. Their power comes from nature itself. Earth ponies have no trouble surviving without a horn, you could have been a master of their craft.”

“Perhaps, if they hadn’t been wiped out.”

Star Swirl the Shaven’s ears fell flat, and only the feather marks on his neck glowed as he breathed. “Wiped out, how? When?”

“The Mokosh Inquisition.”

“The Mokosh?" The monk scoffed. "Those blithering show-offs? No self-respecting druid would ever get caught by them; they’re legendary for the noise they made to announce themselves.”

“They’re legendary for their stealth in my world,” the wizard retorted. “The kings turned their back on the druids, refused to give them shelter, because of their lack of allegiance. The circles were destroyed, the stone monuments shattered. There’s one on this continent, so a few made their way here, I’m sure, but we have found no traces of any living druids. If there were any left in hiding, I fear what knowledge they had will have been lost through the generations, since they lacked any formal written traditions. And if that didn’t do it, then Epona freezing over will have wiped them out entirely.”

“Yes. The Windigos left it a barren wasteland. We’ve had to move everything, same as you. But what of the bard colleges in your world? Surely they kept some of the knowledge? The Library of Gallopsandria?”

“Gallopsandria went into decay when the sages started going into exile for, well, all the usual reasons. Most of the bard colleges burned down a century and a half before the druids were wiped out. Once the conflicts of the Dark Ages erupted, bards were highly sought after for their myriad skills. It was easily taught, not a big strain on our magic, and versatile. The bards jumped right into battle when the call came. They jumped so eagerly the masters got killed before their students were ready. Conflicting allegiances and royal backstabbing did the rest. Eventually, the colleges fell to infighting.”

“The knights of Palomino Hill?” the monk asked.

“Laid down their lives at the Battle of Midnight Castle. The power of the Great Oaths set with the Sun that day. The last survivor made it two weeks before he died of a septic fever. Palomino Hill was levelled to the ground. The sacred shield Netitus is a mere relic, tossed around and battered in battle.”

“But… what magic remains in your world, then?”

A loud slam interrupted them, a mass of soil and stone impacted on top of the shield.

Star swirl shook his head, jingling the bells of his hat. A single white beam blasted through the elemental, reducing it to dust. “Outside of self-made sorcery? Plain old wizardry, I’m afraid, written down in scrolls, kept in libraries managed and paid for by rulers.” He snorted. “When they’re not busy burning the books of their rivals and predecessors, of course. Wizardry and sorcery are hanging on by a thread now, after all the destruction, the loss of our history. There’s a little bit of bard magic, in the occasional talented filly, no druidic magic beyond what Earth ponies are born with. Although my student Clover the Clever does suspect there might be another form of magic.”

The monk grunted as he absent-mindedly decapitated a giant ice bear with his water whip. “Ugh, don’t tell me your Clover came home with that ‘Magic of Friendship’ nonsense, too?”

“She did. I didn’t have the heart to explain to her the nuances of emotional energy, the ancient art of gnostic magic and the lost arts of shamanic trance, or to point out that what she called ‘harmony’ amounted to nothing but bonding with fellow underlings over the hatred of their bosses.”

“A ridiculous concept in and of itself. It’s almost as bad as the Crystal Empire’s ponies with their Magic of Nationalism.”

“Quite. Though I will confess I was very impressed she could fire a prismatic spray at her level already. That much, I am very proud of.”

"Oh, obviously. Even if she doesn't understand the mechanics of it, it's still an impressive feat, yes, I'm very proud of mine, too." The monk sighed. "It's a sad thought, though, that magic is all but dead in your world. And to have to continue the sacrifice on top of that?"

Star Swirl squinted. “Tell me, would you have made that sacrifice if you hadn’t had all your other schools of magic still intact? If you had ended up with only the schools of wizardry at your disposal, but no way to become a wizard again, would you have done what I did?”

“What difference does it make? You’re still a coward for not doing it,” the monk said.

“And you’re a fool for having done it,” replied the wizard.

The marks glowed again, smoke rising from the muscled stallion's fur. “Watch your tongue. The only reason you are standing here is because ponies like me sacrificed themselves for your benefit.”

“And the only reason you are here is because, ages ago, cowards like me did not. There’s no glory in a senseless sacrifice. I can teach the next generation of wizards because I knew my limits. If my predecessors had done the same, perhaps their traditions might live on in my world as they do in yours.”

“So… you would not sacrifice your power because you are a master, and you can’t perish before you’ve trained somepony to succeed you?”

“Yes. I’m sure the monks that trained you would agree.”

“Interesting, that you don’t see the logical flaw in your own reasoning.”

“It’s perfect reasoning.”

Star Swirl raised a smoking hoof and put it menacingly under his counterpart’s chin. “You could perish here and now. Then all the Unicorns you failed to save would have been sacrificed for nothing, and you still would have nothing to show for it.”

Up above, the snakes relented their attack. The spirit laughed.

“I suppose… I hadn’t considered that.” Star Swirl’s horn ignited with white light. “And if you were to perish here, then all the sacrifices your ancestors made will have been in vain. The world would have to hope that the next wizard or monk to fill your shoes would be stronger, and you would have, well, absolutely no say in the matter. You have a Clover the Clever, like I do. Would you ask her to sacrifice her power, her potential? Suppose she could find a solution? Would you deny her the chance to try?”

“You’ve already denied so many.”

“And they would have failed, surely. Clover may succeed, or I might.”

“What gives you the right to decide?”

“Experience in judging students, and authority as a master. Go back and ask some of your teachers when this is over. It must be nice to have that luxury, a surplus of masters. It is a luxury we sorely lack. I have no master: the knowledge of pony magic begins and ends with me. I am a wizard, yes, but I am also a sorceror: a source of magic, however difficult that may be. I’ve had to fabricate fifty new spells based only on legends of what we might have been capable of in ages past. And then I had to transfer that arcane knowledge, so other ponies might do what I can. Do you remember how hard it is to convert sorcery to wizardry? To put into words feelings, concepts, ideas that we often don't even have words for. I didn't simply invent new magic tricks for myself: I reinvented magic. I analysed it all, recorded it all in mind-numbing detail so hopefully, hopefully, someone may build upon it and we can have proper magic in pony lands again. What have you done to progress the craft of wizardry, eh? Fine-tune any arcane kicks? Punch some ghosts? Eat any good books, perhaps?”

Again, the spirit laughed.

The monk glared, but backed down. “That does not excuse anything.”

“We are beyond excusing in this matter. Cause and effect, that is all. I have no master, no peers, so I must do it all on my own. Just as I can do this on my own.”

“You’re wrong.”

Star Swirl’s eyes burned. “I… am never… wrong!”

Light erupted from Star Swirl’s horn. White light, that separated into tiny stars and comets, a barrage of arcane missiles that peppered the bodies of the snakes above.

The snakes cried out in pain as they fell to the ground. The spirit of the temple cackled with delight.

The Unicorns ignored them all.

“I cannot afford to be wrong, do you understand?! I am the Pillar of Sorcery, the only pillar holding it up, the only source to draw from. There is our prehistory, our Dark Age, and then there is me. If I make a mistake, everything could collapse. Canterlot, our fledgling schools of magic, the Crystal Empire, pony history as we know it, there is nothing left that came before me. I had to build up my own sorcerous powers, study wizardry from scraps and…” His breath caught, his body shook. “I will not suffer another wizard to go through what I have in order to become what I am now. No child will be put through that kind of ordeal, ever again, if I have anything to say about it.”

“I managed a dozen.”

“What?”

“A dozen, before my name was drawn.” Star Swirl the Shaven idly rubbed over a smoking arm. “A dozen new spells, translated and dictated from sorcery to scrolls and taught to new wizards. I was so proud of myself, too. And yet, it takes its toll on the mind, wizardry. I suppose in a way, I was weaker than you. I gave it up, and focused on the more primal techniques once I had an excuse. But you are right: I have not found the answer in the ancient texts. I could stand to innovate on what I have, seek out other avenues of power in the shadowy unknown. You did make a sacrifice, then, in a way.”

“When all the magic is gone, sacrifice is the only thing that really works.”

“For a time, yes. But not forever.”

The snakes were down on the ground now, breathing heavily and glaring at the two stallions.

“It seems we have kept our foes waiting long enough. We’ve learned all we can from them,” Star Swirl the Shaven said.

“We are in accord, then.”

“Yes. I think we can agree on one thing, at least. We cannot take the snakes alive.”

“A tragic loss, but necessary. I doubt they could have helped. Their power is too primitive, unrefined,” Star Swirl the Bearded said. “And they are slaves to their impulses. I can end the sister. A simple prismatic spray will suffice: disrupt her ties to the elemental energy that allows her to manifest in this realm, she’ll be banished.”

“And I can end the brother. I may not have the variety of elements to shoot with, but I still have enough raw power to send him where he came from.”

“And the wish?”

“I think we both know how to spend it. Let’s not give the spirit a chance to prepare against us.”

Star Swirl turned his back on his counterpart, raised his horn, and let the white light of his magic split into a rainbow of elements.

"You're a joke," Ouro hissed. "So upset about your destroyed history, but so eager to destroy ours."

"It's a sad fact of magic," Star Swirl replied as the rainbow swirled and spiralled, gaining momentum. "Destruction is infinitely easier than creation. But I'm sure a summoner like you will agree: the two often go very closely together."

When the Star Swirls emerged from the pit, everypony stared in awe.

“Well done,” said the spirit. “That was very entertaining, indeed. Tell me, did you learn anything from this experience?”

Star Swirl the Bearded nodded. “Do not mistake motivation for suffering, even if they do blur together.”

Star Swirl the Shaven nodded in kind. “Discipline to attain power is nothing without the wisdom to apply either.”

“Also, elemental magic is best done swirling energy inward when conjuring a cooling element, and outward when conjuring a heating element.”

“The Four Elements Singularity Strike is best applied to the head, so it can disperse the energy of an incoming attack.”

“And don’t waste energy on small summonings,” the wizard added. "Oh, and conjurers are pathetically weak when immobile, glass ballistas, the lot of them. They need to be able to move out of harm's way, by their nature."

The monk chuckled and nodded. “D’oh, yes, and, very important lesson: turns out giant area of effect attacks are not as energy-inefficient as the scholars would have you believe.”

“Sorry I asked,” the spirit said. The giant golden apple descended towards the ponies, presenting itself. “Now, I did promise you would get a wish. Have you settled on one?”

The wizard and monk exchanged a glance. “I believe we have. We both wish for the same thing.”

“Then place your hooves upon the apple, and wish for it. But I warn you, it may upset your mortal mind.”

Silently, solemnly, the two stallions placed a hoof upon the golden surface and closed their eyes. For the briefest moment, time stopped, and Star Swirl could feel the thought he shared with his counterpart. The thought became an echo, a sound, then a vibration, a concept, and finally, a cosmic rule.

They both withdrew at the same time. Behind them, one of the statues of the mural exploded.

“Oh, dear, it’s never done that before. Sorry to cut this so short, my little ponies, but I think you’d be better be off.”

Star Swirl turned, and blinked.

The last thing he felt was fear, as Stygian was pulled into a portal with shards of stone swirling around him.

Star Swirl collected his thoughts and readied a counterspell.

No.

Darkness fell upon him.

Author's Note

This one was the central piece, the climax of the story, where it's revealed what is so different between the worlds, and where they share a tragedy. The Unicorn sacrifice, I feel, gets a little underplayed in the show, when it could be used as a great defining background thing.

Way more implications here, at least one majorly obvious with regards to the other world's Pony of Shadows. I was worried I laid it on a little too thick, but here's hoping.

The New Rule

The six Pillars landed just as the shrine imploded on itself.

Star Swirl dusted himself off and raised up a shield to block any more bits of mural that were being vomited out of the hole in the shrine’s place. Soon enough, the portal closed, and the bits of statue came to rest.

“Everyone okay?” he asked, looking around.

Flash Magnus nodded, then Rockhoof, Mistmane, Somnanbula, and Meadowbrook in the back. All Pillars present and accounted for.

Star Swirl took a step forward, then froze. “Where’s Stygian?”

“A little help?” came a faint cry.

Apparently Stygian had landed underneath a stone tiger’s paw and a rhino’s torso. Rockhoof got him out from under it in short order.

“Thank you,” Stygian said. “What happened back there? Did you make your wish?”

“Yes.” Star Swirl looked around, then up. The Sun was in the same spot as it had when they’d left, but there was always the chance of some temporal field in the temple muddling that up. Even so, the Sun wasn’t moving, as far as he could see. “Though it appears to have had no effect. The temple must have collapsed under the weight of the magic. Still, that was very revealing.” He nodded to himself. “That was a proper wish spell. I’m sure I can use that experience in my research.”

“Glad to hear it,” Stygian said, looking around at his companions. “About that, actually, Star Swirl. I’ve been thinking.”

“As have I,” the wizard interrupted. “Next time we encounter a situation like that, you stay out of the portal, understood?”

Stygian blinked, confused. “W-what?”

Star Swirl clenched his jaw as he sought the right words.

The monk had a point.

You’re the one who brought us together. If we fall, you’re the only hope of a second set of Pillars.

We’re in this situation because all the ancient masters died before their students were ready. We can’t afford to let that continue.

You are the master in this equation, Stygian. We cannot let you perish, or else there will be no one to take our place if we fail.

We can’t lose more ponies like you.

“You’re clearly far too weak to keep up with us,” Star Swirl barked. “You hardly did anything at the plant challenge.”

Mistmane raised a hoof. “Star Swirl, I must object.”

“Then object to the truth if you will! You know I am right. The reality of it is Stygian cannot fight like we do, and we can’t change that.” We mustn’t change that. Any risk is an unacceptable one. “Nothing will change that. Those otherworldly ponies had resources we can only dream of. We have to make do with what we have. You stay behind, Stygian, is that clear? Your place is at the table, reading and planning, not on the battlefield.”

Stygian kept his head low, but nodded. “Of course, Star Swirl. That is… crystal clear.”

Star Swirl turned his back on the small Unicorn and stomped off through the forest. “Let’s go. We have work to get back to.”

Taking the lead, and with his big hat blocking his face, no one saw the regret in his eyes. He hoped no one would speak to him after that, lest they notice him crying.

I’m sorry, my friend. I can’t afford to lose you.

I can’t afford to be wrong.

The clearing was silent once the ponies had trudged off. Bits and pieces of animal statues littered the ground, remains of the mural the spirit of Enyalius had been looking at for centuries.

Then an odd thing happened, something mortal minds would only barely be able to describe in terms of geometry and topology. A concept descended on the clearing, an idea. The idea folded itself, wriggled through a pinprick in the fabric of consensus reality, and slipped through before the hole could fully close. Something had shifted in the rules of the Universe, a loophole in the cosmic contract that governed all that was.

Brilliant.

Absolutely brilliant. I’d have expected nothing less from minds of your calibre.

A lion’s paw turned from stone to flesh. Though it was not connected to a circulatory system, its muscles began to twitch. Specifically, its fingers clawed and dragged the arm connected to it over the ground. Quickly finding it a futile endeavour, the paw’s fingers snapped.

Up in the sky, and farther up in space, another shift happened. While there were many mechanical elements to moving the Sun, in terms of magic the only real way to do it was a conceptual one: move the Sun from the caster's perspective, and all other things fall into place. Mortal minds, the kind who struggled with the balance between perception and will, would never be able to wrap their thoughts around the heliocentric complexities required to do such a thing, especially if they were already corrupted by knowing what ‘heliocentric’ even meant. No mortal remained who knew a time when the Sun moving on its own was the rule, and as a result no mortal could even imagine how it might move on its own, not in the grander scheme of galaxies and superclusters. With no mechanical basis for the mind to focus on, it was next to impossible to design a spell to do it.

But the spirit was not mortal, and the paw it was incarnating into, likewise, had no such limitations. The Sun moved at its whim, only a little bit, and soon a little stone goatee off by the edge of the clearing became soft hairs that floated towards the uncanny limb.

The paw stroked at the little beard pensively.

It was a perfect wish, Star Swirl.

"I wish for there to always be a creature capable of moving the Sun at its whim.”

So complex, so wordy. I’m surprised you managed such a long sentence without corrupting it. Then again, you had to, didn’t you? Wish for the Sun to move again, and it could be stopped just as easily as it has before. Wish for the power to move the Sun, and you get to spend the rest of your life trying to become immortal, if the power doesn’t corrupt you first.

But wish for a third party, a creature that can move the Sun at its whim, one that by cosmic rule must always be present, and you are set free. No more sacrifice, no more pain, no more Unicorns losing their magic.

I wonder if the other ponies will still hate your tribe, once the sacrificing stops.

The folding idea, the concept made spirit, materialised into more pieces of stone. An antler, a tusk, some wings, slowly a pulse began to fill the pieces as the Sun moved more across the sky.

It really was a perfect wish… or it would have been, if only you’d managed to specify the moral fibre of said creature.

A sigh of contentment went through the vivifying stones.

Still, I suppose I can take over that job for a little while.

Until I get bored, of course.

The lion’s paw clapped against an eagle claw. As long as the Sun moved, the spirit gained more and more freedom to act, more weight in the material world.

There is, after all, no one else who can do it, except me.

Yes, I believe I can agree to those terms for now. Or… how did you put it?

We are in accord.

The End.

Author's Note

... I mean, come on, it was obvious from the start, wasn't it?

So yeah, there's my entry. We'll see how it does.

Cleaning Out The Garden

“The next challenge is to clean up my garden. I’ll need three ponies from each group, as before.”

“Leaving only two for the final challenge,” Star Swirl said to his counterpart. “That will be you and me, no doubt. Alright, then: Rockhoof, Mistmane, Stygian, your turn.”

Star Swirl the Shaven didn’t bother calling out his crew. All he had to do was nod in their general direction and they stepped up to the plate.

“Pay attention in there, Stygian,” Star Swirl the Shaven said. “Listen to the Mistmanes, they know their way around a garden.”

No answer came. The ponies blinked out of existence, and the floor became a viewing portal again.

“You do not trust your Stygian to complete the task?” Star Swirl asked.

“I trust him with my life, and more. He’s a very smart Unicorn, very capable, and I never let him forget it. But he can be a little… impetuous at times. Rushes into action too quickly, without considering the consequences.”

“Hmm. Mine has no such vices. They’ll complement each other nicely.”

The shaven Unicorn looked back at the three pairs talking amongst themselves. “The other three certainly did. But why wouldn’t they? We are so alike, after all.”

Star Swirl’s ears twitched when he heard the word ‘Gallopsandria’ in the conversation beyond. Mentions of Palomino Hill, sacred shields and oaths, soon followed. He kept his attention on the viewing pool in front of him, though, pursing his lips as he thought. “Yes. We’re practically the same,” he lied.

“Okay,” said Stygian. “The good news is: it looks like it’s only a single plant that requires uprooting. The bad news is: that is one very large plant.”

The plant in question was an affront to horticulturalists everywhere. It consisted mainly of vines, black ones covered in thorns. The tips of the vines twitched at times, like a sleeping cat’s tail. Here and there a rudimentary fly-trap set of leaves grew, that pulsed with an ominous rhythm. All in all, it wouldn’t have been a problem if it hadn’t been so impossibly large to boot, at least thirty staves high. The garden itself was lined with little cobblestones to mark where the ground should be counted as soil, and the giant weed took up nearly half of it, leaving the other half desolate. The circular garden was, by Stygian’s best estimate, about three hundred paces in diameter, if Rockhoof was taking his large strides.

Whatever this thing was, it choked the life out of everything that tried to grow under it.

“Okay, I say we torch the thing right here and now and be done with it,” said the other Rockhoof.

“No!” Stygian shouted. “No, don’t try to harm it yet. This is clearly some sort of trick.”

“How do you figure?” Rockhoof asked.

Stygian sat down to think. “Let’s look at what we know of the previous trial: it was presented to us as a challenge of wits, with a time limit. It then became a race against time, but... the answer was not combat. What looked like a monster to fight was merely a distraction, and part of the solution. A plant of this size and weight is clearly meant to make us think it is a challenge of magical and physical power.”

“When in reality it is a challenge of careful planning,” said the metal-clad Rockhoof. “You think if we go right for this thing, it’ll go badly?”

“I don’t like the looks of those fly traps,” the caped Stygian whispered.

“I agree,” Mistmane replied. “Look closely: those vines are pumping something upward, not sucking something down.”

“You’re right,” said the other Mistmane. “I think I’ve seen this type of plant before, it’s listed in the archives of the Eastern Empire. What was its name, though? There’s Bamboo of Blasting, Petals of Pillaging, and...”

“Iron Ivy, I believe,” Stygian said, pointing up at the tip of the plant. “Also known as Verdant Silver. It's a parasite plant.” He narrowed his eyes. "There must be a tree under there, being drained."

“Yes, that! This is Iron Ivy: some Earth pony tribes planted this along their borders to keep intruders out.”

“So this thing’s iron, then?” Rockhoof asked.

“Not quite,” Stygian replied. “Its spores have the same effect on magic as elemental iron or silver would: they’re a very powerful magical disruptor. It’s also semi-intelligent, and will target sources of magic if left to grow uncontested and unmolested.”

“Still, I can just burn the thing, can’t I?” the armoured Rockhoof said.

“No. The plant would release its offspring as a survival mechanism, making the problem considerably worse.”

“So how do you want to do this, then?”

Stygian sighed.

Mistmane nodded and patted his shoulder. “We shall treat it like the trap that it is: study it carefully, from a distance, and map out any weaknesses we can find. It hasn’t detected us yet, best to keep it that way. Clearly the stone circle keeps it contained somehow. Split up, everypony: I shall get a view from up above with my counterpart, study the higher leaves. You four group up in pairs: one for muscle power, one for magic, and best from different worlds. We’ll have a better chance if we combine our knowledge. Circle around, see if you can find where the main stem emerges from the ground, look for any white fleshy root nodules, or perhaps any place where the supporting plant isn’t entirely covered. We’ll have to try and uproot the parasite without harming the host. Hopefully we can find some options.”

Stygian gestured to the mare. “Yes. What she suggested. It’s a fine strategy.”

“I’m only saying what you were thinking, dear.”

Rockhoof looked down at the other Stygian as they walked. Why the Unicorn kept himself covered up so much, he could only guess, but he supposed there were scars under that cape or something of that nature. “So, are you the brains of the operation in your world?”

“Nah, I’m more of a spiritual fella,” came the reply, in a slightly higher pitch of voice than Rockhoof expected. “I use my magic when I can, protect the others. This should be right up my alley, though.”

“Why cover yourself up, then?”

“The magic I use, it leaves my hide feeling too tender. I don’t like how the air feels on my body, if that makes sense.”

They stopped. Ahead of them, they could see some of the black mass spiralling straight up, meaning those were probably load-bearing growths. “Let’s see, one, two… do you know what we’re supposed to be looking for?”

“Aye, it’s not a wooden plant, just a big herb. There’s loose vines, but there needs to be a hard centre for it to get that high. It couldn’t grow this tall if there weren’t any tree underneath to support it, and that means it needs to cling to something for support. We're looking for places where the grip is weaker.”

Aye? “Where are you from?” Rockhoof asked.

The little one shrugged. “The islands near Equestria, the Land of Red Ice.”

Rockhoof stopped dead in his tracks. “But that’s where I’m from.”

The little fellow looked Rockhoof over, still keeping his face obscured. “Wait. The others are the same age. How are you so much older than me?”

Rockhoof backed away. “I… think there’s been a misunderstanding, young sir. You are the other world’s… Stygian, are ye not?”

Stygian lowered his cowl, revealing his face. “What do you think?”

Rockhoof’s eyes went wide as saucers. “Oh. Okay. Gotta admit, did not see that one coming.”

“That was quick thinking back there. I almost blew the whole place up again,” the metal alicorn joked.

“I’m sure you would have managed. Our Rockhoof is a very capable stallion, I have no reason to think you are any less so.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Our Rockhoof is capable, yes, but I don’t have his raw magical power.”

Stygian froze. “Excuse me?”

“I’m surprised it took you so long to notice.”

The alicorn pressed on the jawline of his armour, and the metal plates folded back to reveal not a burly Earth pony, but a lanky, if healthy, Unicorn colt, barely hitting his stallion years.

“You’re… you’re me. You are the Stygian of your world. But your armour?”

“It gives me a nice boost in height, keeps me unharmed, and it stores some necessary components. It lets me serve as a pack mule, really, among other things.”

“And your magic?”

The other Stygian shook his head. “As depleted as yours, I fear. But I made do.”

“How? Please, if I can be of use to my allies.”

“I’ll tell you all about it, but we have a job to do first.”

“So,” Mistmane started, after conjuring a translucent floating disk for elevation’s sake, along with a spyglass. “That little one is your Rockhoof, I take it?”

“And the big one is our Stygian. What clued you off?”

“They have a way of moving about them, a way of being.”

“Very observant. Your condition, if you don’t mind my asking...”

“I only look old, dear, it’s done nothing to my vitality, as I believe your Rockhoof already noticed,” Mistmane assured, moving the disk along in a circle, staying a safe distance as they both looked through their spyglasses. “Nor does it diminish my sorcerous powers.”

“Sorcerous.” The mare nodded. “Not wizardly?”

“Little bit of both, but I could only develop as the former. I have found my, ah, 'source' to pull from, and I've worked out my own spells from that nicely enough, though the wizardly studies do help in filling the gaps, obviously. Still, my condition does not affect it in the slightest.”

“How did it happen? Or when, I suppose I should ask?”

“I did it to myself, of course,” Mistmane replied. “A friend needed my aid, and I gave it to her. I gave her my beauty, so she would not have to live in pain anymore.”

The other mare shook her head in shock. “You gave her your beauty? Goodness, the mere mechanics of that boggle the mind. That is highly conceptual magic, more than I ever learned.”

“You did not study at the libraries in the East?”

“I did, but they had nothing like that. Magic of that sort, it’s unheard of in my world. Ours tends to be a more… tangible magic, more practical and measurable, nothing that deals with concepts and abstracts. No, I was faced with the same choice, and I used a transmutation spell, along with some medicinal power provided by my teachers.”

Mistmane nodded. “I’m sure you realise what’s so different between our worlds by now, then. Somnanbula figured it out quickly.”

“Yes.”

“Are you okay with knowing? Your path, I mean. Are you bothered by...”

The younger-looking mare smiled, reluctantly. “I have… mixed feelings, as you might expect."

"Of course. But rest assured, I think no less of you for it. You did what you could, and you helped your friend, as I did. You were merely more efficient about it."

"I suppose. Still, it's hard to shake the feeling that I'm somehow inadequate, for not making the sacrifice you did. Then again, I suspect that is exactly what the spirit is hoping for.”

“Undoubtedly. The Star Swirls are going to throw a fit. That'll be a nice show, I'm sure.”

Rockhoof stared at the young Earth pony before him. The lad couldn’t have been older than twelve, but his colours, cutie mark, all around he looked like Rockhoof did as a child. “You’re a… a colt.”

“And you are a full-grown stallion,” came the reply. “Were you hit with an aging spell?”

Rockhoof shook his head. “Nah. Aye, in a manner of speaking. When the volcano on my island erupted, I dug a trench for the lava to go safely into the ocean. Something, ah, something snapped in me, and I turned into this.”

The little one looked at the shovel, thinking. “Then you are still a child under all that muscle?”

“Aye. I’m still learnin’ how to read proper-like. Mistmane knows, she understands that high magic much better than I do. But you’re younger than I was when this happened to me. How is that...”

Little Rockhoof smiled. “I was born a farmer’s son, like you, I imagine. I was struck by illness when I was little, and the weakness that followed never really went away.”

“Same. Nasty fever, nearly ended me as a wee lad.”

“But the Circle of the Foam Islands saw that I had a strong heart, and a mind capable of focus, so they took me in.”

“The whatnow?”

The boy held up part of his cloak. “Circle of the Foam Islands. Druids. I’m a druid, I thought it was obvious from the cape. I channel magic, like any Earth pony does, but I draw it a little more directly from the forces of nature. When the volcano erupted, I used everything I had.” He reached for his belt and brought up a golden sickle. “I didn’t have a shovel, but I had magic. Still, I was on my own, and outmatched. I reached down deep for power, and, well, this was the end result.”

“How, though?”

“Druids of a certain level of power don’t age like normal creatures do. They have vitality and life coursing through their very veins. I, ah, over-imbibed that day, that’s how they described it. I should have died from exhaustion, instead it cost me years of my life, just like it cost you. Unlike you, it cost me years I’d already spent.”

“Hmm. But ye are a hero, then?”

“Yes.”

“And a child?”

“As much as you are.”

“Good. Nice to know that part’s still the same.”

“I always had a knack for ink- and scroll-based magic,” the other Stygian said. “When the time came for me to move the Sun, I did not lose as much as the rest did. I could still grab things in my magic, even if complex spells became impossible. I had to leave my village soon after that.”

“It was the same with me,” Stygian replied. “Ponies do not like it when their sacrifices survive.”

“Unfortunately. I suspect it has something to do with the nature of our magic being more inclined towards dark things, like ink and shadow. The light cannot do much with that, so it didn’t bother taking it.”

“And your armour?”

“I fashioned it myself, with the help of my friends. My power was crippled, yes, but my knowledge remained intact, so I became an artificer. I have little magic of my own, but I can still craft magical items to compensate, replicating magic from other sources. That’s how I got this: I could copy certain elements of an arcane nature to forge a weapon for myself. The other Pillars offered up their artefacts as models, my ink-like magic transcribed it like it would a scroll, and the result is this. I’ll show you my uncanny cannon later, we’ll likely need it. Do you not have any combat capabilities of your own?”

Stygian shook his head, still in shock. “No. I’m sorry, has the Sun started moving on its own yet in your world? Did you get your magic back at all?”

“No, we are working on the Sun situation, just like you, when we’re not clearing out monsters in this new land. And no, my armour is my only real power. I keeps my body covered at all times, protected, and it allows me to use magic that would otherwise be well out of my reach. I don’t think it would be difficult for you to make one. Your friends have their own artefacts as well, do they not?”

“They do. I never considered asking for such a thing.” Stygian chuckled. “What a thought. I… I could still make a difference.”

“I said the same thing when I had the idea. Everyone was glad to help, and I’ve tried to prove myself worthy of their trust ever since. I like to think I’ve earned it.”

“I’ll be sure to try it myself, once we are done here.”

“And speaking of which, there’s an exposed trunk.” He pointed to some spots up high that hadn’t been fully obscured by the choking vines.

“Yes, it’s avoiding those areas for some reason. Must be an immune reaction of some sorts, it might react well to healing magic. It would help if we knew what type of plant it was coiled around.”

“Knowing this place, probably a world tree of some sorts. Not Yggdrasil, but certainly a cut clone, at the very least, or some variation. I half expected there to be flying cats around here, honestly, or at least a troll, a rat king at the bare minimum.”

“My thoughts exactly. You are well-informed on darker things.”

“Know your enemy, or know defeat." He snorted. "Tell me, what do you know? Of this challenge? Really?”

“Not nearly as much as what I do not know,” Stygian replied.

“But can you defeat this thing?”

“Not in a million years.”

“Did not think so. But I suspect you know how we might.”

Stygian looked up at himself.

“You are not as mighty as me, it’s true,” the artificer said. “But there’s a brightness in your eyes, one I’ve only seen in one other pony. And I do not mean myself, either.”

Stygian didn’t reply to that.

“I think you are smarter than you let on. And while I may act too quickly to prove myself, you need to act, period. I saw how Mistmane picked up for you. Why not speak up?"

"My place is in the shadows," Stygian said. "I do not have the power my friends have."

The other Stygian leaned in. "Neither did I. But I had knowledge, and without knowledge, power can be made useless. Perhaps you do have power, and you simply do not know it, making you believe you are useless. The Star Swirl of my world would never tolerate such behaviour from me, nor would he allow me to sit idly by as another exhibits it. So, I ask again: can you defeat this thing?”

The Unicorn bit his lip and grumbled. “Together, I think we might.”

“Good. Let’s go tell the rest, then.”

The problem was vast, and came with several dimensions. Fail to contain even one part of the threat, and failure was certain. The Mistmanes went back and forth on what spells they could use. The Rockhooves couldn't decide how to get the parasite off without harming the host. The armoured Stygian sat and listened, but offered no real input on the matter.

In the end, it had fallen unto Stygian to formulate the plan. Executing it was a mere afterthought.

Still, his heart pounded as he sat on the sidelines. He stared at the plant, waiting for some signal, a twitch, a sign.

Down below, at the base, the soil sank ever so slightly.

“Go! Go now!”

The two Mistmanes were first to spring into action. Their horn alight, they formed a wind bubble around the leaves up top and forced them to fly back with the help of a minor anti-gravity spell. Green spores filled the air behind the plant, but they were harmless at the distance the mares created: as long as the spores were held back by something physical and not a magical force, they couldn't block the spell itself. As long as the Mistmanes were careful not to let the spores touch anyone, they were safe. The tentacle-like vines quickly began to squirm towards the pair, but by then the other Stygian had already made his move.

Stygian’s jaw dropped when he saw his counterpart go to work. With some intricate gestures of his hooves, the armoured Unicorn shed the wing and stilt portions of his suit. The pieces floated and rearranged themselves to form what could rightly be called an uncanny cannon. Where the feathers of wings had been, there were now three layers of tines, like a closed flower. The stilt pieces that gave the artificer his added height formed legs, while finally the tailguard slipped off and formed a barrel. Arcane energy flared up, sparks flew, and the crippled Unicorn let loose.

The barrage of blue bolts made the ground shake, but didn’t hit the plant itself. Even so, it made the vines stop as the magical force in the air formed a smokescreen for its magical senses. The impact of the attack only served to loosen the soil around it.

There was a moment when the plant was disoriented. In that moment, Stygian shouted “Rockhoof! Now!”

The Earth pony titan went straight into a dash past the straining Unicorn mares, shovel in mouth. One final shot from the uncanny cannon marked his target.

He stuck his shovel into the ground, mashed his full weight into it, then heaved.

With a bestial roar, Rockhoof ripped the thing out by the roots, sending it toppling over.

Stygian held his breath.

It’s working.

That’s the main stem. Its roots are too shallow; as long as the tree underneath isn’t scooped up, we have this.

Still the plant held on, clutching by its vines. It still held on to the tree, even after losing its grip on the ground.

A maulwurf erupted from the ground Rockhoof had just tilled.

“It’s all yours, kid!” he shouted.

Stygian’s world went white from the excitement. The giant mole creature turned back into its pony form, and the little druid applied a healing touch to the main trunk of the tree that had been smothered.

Yes, right at the base. Now let’s hope it-

Snapping sounds filled the garden, like a thousand cords gave out at once, and the offending vines were thrown off. The black roots embedded in the bark withered and died, crumbling into dust, and the uncanny cannon burned away any errant plant matter with surgical precision. No seeds were released, no root nodules remained after little Rockhoof’s underground feeding frenzy, and the host tree glowed and regenerated, leaves sprouting from its branches as it filled the rest of the garden with new life. Grass began to grow under its influence, other smaller trees rose up and blossomed, all in all it looked done.

Part of Stygian’s mind wondered what sort of tree it really was. It didn’t bear any fruits yet, probably too early after such an exertion. Something nagged at him, telling him it was an apple tree. Given the spirit’s prison, that seemed as likely an option as any. “It worked,” he said. “My plan worked.”

“You sound surprised,” he heard the spirit say, though not loud enough for anypony else to notice.

“Please do not mock me, spirit. You know full well how weak I am.”

“For now.”

Stygian sighed. The others were congratulating each other, all except his counterpart, the artificer. The artificer merely looked at him, expecting him to step forward and claim triumph.

He merely sighed in relief, not wanting the attention.

Stygian preferred to stay in the shadows.

Author's Note

Second challenge, for some reason, I felt like it was closer to the Herculean one with the stables. It was meant to be calmer, allow for more dialogue, and obviously show off the ponies who are very different from their counterparts. So different you'd confuse them for another pony at first glance.

So the Rockhoof thing was obvious: one was a child who aged, the other a child who was rejuvenated. But they are both children, that's... kinda canon, he was still a colt when that happened. Mistmanes, that was an obvious change, but had to make a few tweaks to add more depth there, and the Stygians? Well, the Stygians were as planned-out and central to the story's look and feel as the Star Swirls were.

Again, there's a lot of implications to this story, some don't need spelling out, others might.

Editing this thing landed the full story on 15k words exactly. So, you know, that's nice.