Chapters First night of the new moon. Rocky stared into the inky darkness of the sky, frowning as he did so. He himself was a dark pony, and he blended into the night like a shadow.
The wind blew and its bite chilled him to the bone. He shifted the burden on his back, feeling the weight move from one side of his haunch to the other. The package he bore was a heavy one, bound for Bastion. The weight didn’t affect him too much – he was a rather large pony and used to such burdens.
It was vital he get there as soon as possible. Everything depended on it. Or at least his pay did. This was why he decided to take the shortcut through Necropolis.
Rocky shivered, not because of the cold, but because of the thoughts of Necropolis that danced through his head like taunting demons. He hated being near Necropolis in the daytime, but at night when there was no stars and no moon? He made his way through the dark ruins slowly, moving by feel and memory. There were holes here, holes that went down deep, deep into the heart of the world. Falling down them would put quite a damper on your day, I think.
He almost fell down one of these holes despite his caution, the weight of his burden pushing him slowly towards the edge. He recovered, heart pounding at the near disaster. Moving more carefully after that point, he skirted the other holes he came across.
Then he saw it – the Obelisk, towering above him and blacker than night itself. Had the moon been out, she would have been blotted out by its massive shape. His skin prickled as he gazed upon it, hair standing on end. If the Necropolis made him fearful, the Obelisk terrified him. It was there, it had always been there, eldritch and unknowable, uncaring of the ponies that scurried around it trying to scry its secrets.
So engrossed was he in his examination of the Obelisk that he failed to notice a small pothole in the rubble. His hoof caught in it, and he jerked down, a sharp crack resonating in the ruins of Necropolis. A white-hot pang of pain arced up his leg. He fell to the ground, a sob of pain escaping his mouth.
Struggling, he tried to rise again. A sharp stab of pain deterred him from that option. The cracked ground beneath him had shifted, pinning his hoof. He lay there for some time, the pain shooting up and down his leg.
Then he heard the Noise. It was faint at first, a tinkling. Like hollow sticks beating on each other. The Noise grew louder, louder, until it was almost on top of him. He felt a presence behind him, a terrible hot presence.
Thou art in pain? The Voice was a contradictory conundrum to Rocky. It was hollow-sounding, but throaty. Deep, but trilling. Flat but full of emotion. We can aid thee in thy travails.
“Yes… please,” Rocky said through gritted teeth.
Very well. We request only one thing.
Rocky felt a tug at his hind legs and then
felt
nothing
at
all.
Oh, Augur, how foolish you are. How noble you are. But why, oh, why did you think you would make a difference? Foolish, foolish Augur.
Who is Augur? Why, Augur is a simple earth pony. A simple earth pony and a druid. Oh, long before he had another name but when he became a Brother, he took on a new name as was custom. The other druids, they kept their old names and used their new names only in council. Augur? Now he kept his new name, begone with the old.
There were many of his Brothers and Sisters spread throughout the Hinterlands, but only a handful served on the Council. Eight ponies served on the Council, each one representing a spoke of the Wheel of Magic. Augur represented the Spoke of Oracles, his talent for seeing omens and performing auguries a valuable asset to both the Council and the ponies of Bastion.
The council had called palaver this night for reasons unknown to Augur. Moon’s Omen, the eldest and therefore head druid, was about to speak. Not for the first time, Augur wondered who Moon’s Omen was. All the druids in the council hid their identities by wrapping themselves in voluminous hooded robes. If not for the many speeches they made, it would be impossible to distinguish even the gender of the pony.
He had decided long ago that of all the druids on the council he was the only true one. Oh sure, the others took their names and performed their rituals. But Augur? He was the only one who embraced his new religion. He was the only one who took on the mantle of the druid and showed the world he did not serve Celestia or Luna. The others hid their pagan ways under a veneer of civilisation, a veneer Augur had long abandoned.
“..and now we come to the reason I called this meeting,” Moon’s Omen rasped, his voice croaking and rough. Whoever Moon’s Omen was, he was an old pony. Very old. “You all know of our wish. You all know that since this grove was started I have wished that ponies the world around could have the gift we share. Our wish will soon be reality.
“I have divined a possible way to share the Gift, but I am still unsure of its potential. I must commune with the spirits of the Cairn. And so I say, before the moon returns to the sky we must perform a ritual there, in the Cairn. Only then can I be sure.” The old stallion’s voice could hardly be heard over the whisper of wind through the open arena.
Augur frowned, his gold eyes glittering doubtfully. At no time in his auguries this week had a ritual like this been foretold. Something had happened, something to alter the threads of fate to push Moon’s Omen to this conclusion.
“Share the Gift?” a wheedling voice cut through the heavy night air, piercing Augur’s ears painfully. Why did she use such an irritating voice during the meetings? “I have been on this council for years and I’ve never heard of this plot before.”
“You have ears yet do not hear. Sharing the Gift has been the dream of this council for ages, Blood Rune. My father and his father before him had this dream, and I will fulfill it.” Moon’s Omen eyed the young mare, his eyes a purple gleam in the dark hall. “All eight spokes must be represented at the ritual or else it will fail.” The elder pony turned his wet purple gaze to Augur. “Is that understood, Augur?”
“Indeed,” Augur said flatly. He would keep an eye on this ritual. Perhaps even miss it.
“The Gift will shower on all ponies and we will together,” Moon’s Omen said. “Pegasi, Earth ponies, unicorns. All shall share the gift of using magic.”
“Sharing the gift,” Augur repeated. He was sitting at a table, steaming cup of coffee in front of him. His gaze was directed outwards, towards the view out his window. There was naught outside but a few pine trees and a twitchy squirrel up past his bedtime.
Daydancer paused, her own cup frozen in midair. “I can’t really believe it. I always thought we were just having playin’. A silly little game, like the Freeneighsons do.” Her voice was soft and accented with the sing-song cadence of a Haylander.
“It’s just a rabbit trail. He’ll forget about it soon enough and we’ll be back to just being a silly group.” His voice took on a mocking tone as he finished his sentence.
The mare said nothing; she just flicked her light pink tail back and forth. Augur had nothing to say either. They sat there silently for a while, until they finished their coffee. At that point Augur rose, kissed her on her forehead and left.
Daydancer, otherwise known as Blood Rune, rubbed where he had kissed her. She wished there was a horn there.
Luna stood on the terrace, her attention focused on the dark fringes of the horizon. She was to guard the night, as she had always done. Or at least, how she was supposed to have always done. Blinking, she forced that thought away and adjusted the telescope.
From within the castle, she heard her sister’s voice echo, followed by the Canterlot-accented rumble of a cabinet member.
“And you’re certain of this?”
“I wouldn’t come to you unless I was absolutely sure, Princess. My agent has confirmed that there are magic using ponies not of the unicorn persuasion in the Hinterlands.”
Luna perked up at that, turning her head slightly to see what was going on. She could see her sister Celestia, glowing white and regal as always, and Doctor Trotson, the head of the Ministry of Intelligence, a pastel blue unicorn pacing in the throne room.
“This is deeply troubling,” Celestia said. “They must not know…”
“I doubt they would,” Trotson replied, adjusting the collar of his pinstripe suit. “The Ministry of Magic keeps a tight lid on things like that.” He paused for a moment, looking down, rubbing his bushy mustache. “My dear Princess, I came to you not just to inform you of this, but to ask a favour of you. My agent cannot accomplish her mission on her own. Help is required. I need a powerful magician sent to the Hinterlands.”
Celestia nodded. “I think I know somepony who could help, Doctor. She’s in town for the week for the magic conference but…” Her sister walked out of sight and her voice became muffled. Trotson followed her, hooves trodding softly on the carpet.
Luna shook her head with a sigh. Pegasi and earth ponies abusing magic. Compared to mad draconequuses or armies of changelings she supposed that was nothing special. The world is a crazy place, she thought. That’s why I like to stay on the moon.
Intelligence, Trickery, and Magic
“Magic is in all ponies, be they unicorn, Earth pony or pegasus. It is how the magic manifests itself that defines them. Unicorns are the only ponies who can properly use magic, as their horn acts as a focusing lens for the magical energy. In Earth ponies, the magic manifests itself as a symbiosis with the Earth, an affinity for animals and growing things. Magic allows pegasi to fly, control the weather and walk on clouds.
“Alicorns, being the purest and Original strain of pony, are a perfect blend of the three types. They fly, can walk on clouds, are able to manipulate magical energy and are bonded to the elements. Perhaps this overreaching is why their civilisation fell.” from Magic! Or How Everypony is Special by Starswirl the Bearded
“In conclusion, the Everfree Forest while dangerous is still a valuable place to get information on the new natural world. I believe we can learn much from the creatures and plant life that live there, and can apply them to many aspects of our current lives. Thank you for attending and I am now open for questions.” Twilight Sparkle looked up at the crowd from her notes, feeling sweat drip down her back. She had spoken before crowds before but not one as big, nor as intelligent as this one.
It was the yearly Magic Conference, and the current Minister of Magic had invited Twilight to speak on her adventures in the Everfree Forest. She had accepted – naturally – and had begun writing her lecture and spent more time visiting with Zecora than she had with her friends. Her time with the zebra witch doctor had given her an appreciation for the holistic methods of the zebras, and she had changed her tack from creatures of Everfree to the hidden treasures of Everfree.
She knew it wasn’t exactly what the Minister had expected, but she hoped that everypony had enjoyed it and found it informative. Sweeping her eyes over the crowd, she was delighted to see her friends in the third row. Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash looked a little bored – Dash was far more bored than Pinkie – but the fact that they were there was enough to loosen the nervous knot in her stomach.
Continuing her scan of the crowd, she saw a hoof raised. “Yes? You back there, what’s your question,” she asked, pointing at him.
The asker was a unicorn who looked to be a high-ranking magician, if you went by the dark cape he wore. “Ms Sparkle, while it’s nice that you have such lofty ambitions for the Everfree Forest, some of the things you propose to harvest… How would we get them? Hydra’s blood… Manticore tears… Poison joke root… Gargoyle wing membrane… Cockatrice feathers… This reads more like a fantastical shopping list than a feasible list of resources we can use.”
“It may seem that way,” Twilight said, forcing that ball of nervousness down, “but once you observe the fauna of the Everfree Forest, you learn that there are certain things they don’t react to, or times they are sleeping and unaware. Gargoyles for example are purely nocturnal and will not rise until the sun is completely down. In addition, a very small sampling of gargoyle wing membrane can be used for many different things. As an alchemical ingredient, the membrane is very potent.
“In fact, many of the fauna of Everfree are nocturnal, and any harvesting can take place during the day while they sleep.”
The wizard nodded and sat back down. Twilight saw another pony with her hoof up and turned the floor to her. “You’ve made a good case for the fauna, but what about the flora? Poison joke is no joke at all.”
“Having been affected by poison joke before, I am aware of its detrimental effects. But one pony in a sealed suit with a separate air supply can harvest a small poison joke field in a few hours with no harm done to him.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Twilight saw a guard coming up the aisle to the stage. She frowned slightly, puzzled at his appearance. “One moment please,” she said, stepping away from the microphone to meet the guard. The armoured pegasus trotted up the few steps and leaned in to whisper in her ear.
“The princess realises you’re in the middle of something, but she and the Minister of Intelligence require your presence as soon as possible.”
Twilight nodded, and the guard trotted back down the steps and down the long aisle to the exit. More than a few ponies watched the guard leave. The unicorn mare returned to the podium, forcing a smile. “If there are no more questions, I’m afraid I have an important meeting to go to.” Blinking, she looked out at the crowd again, waiting. When she saw no further hooves raised, she said her goodbyes and trotted offstage. She didn’t know if they were truly out of questions or just holding them back out of politeness.
There was a guard waiting for her backstage, a white pegasus. He led her through the long hallways of the Castle Canterlot, up the stairs to the Princess’s solar. The sheer scope and beauty of the ancient castle never failed to amaze Twilight. The castle had been built long ago, and stood through many disasters and several wars. That such an old, battered thing could still be beautiful just astounded her. There wasn’t a part of her that didn’t want to do anything but stay in the castle for the rest of her life and just explore.
The door to the solar swung open, a sparkle of golden light enveloping it. Twilight entered the room, and her guard stepped to the side, waiting patiently outside. She saw the Princess, sitting at a table enjoying a cup of tea. The sun shone in behind her, making her glow with a radiant white light. The light dazzled the mare, but not enough that she failed to notice another pony in the room, a unicorn. He was a shade of pastel blue, wearing a pinstripe suit that quite matched his coat. His silver mane was daringly styled, as was his bushy mustache. It took her a moment, but she recognised him as Doctor Trotson, the Minister of Intelligence.
“Good afternoon, Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia’s serene, lovely voice rang out. “Sorry to have interrupted your lecture.”
“I was finished anyway,” Twilight replied with a bow. “Is this Doctor Trotson?” she asked, looking at the unicorn.
“Indeed it is,” Trotson said, pecking her lightly on the cheek. “Wonderful to finally meet the famous Twilight Sparkle. If it weren’t for you, our kingdom would be gone thrice over. For that you have my thanks.” He slipped a small piece of paper to her with a wink. “And my number.”
“Err… thanks,” Twilight said, trying to find a way to dispose of the paper without the minister noticing. “May I ask why I’ve been called here?”
“Doctor Trotson has uncovered something disturbing,” Celestia said as she sipped her tea.
Trotson nodded. “Indeed I have! Are you familiar with druids, Ms Sparkle?”
“Only in books. They’re wizards who worship demons, right?”
“Partially. They worship nature – Gaea, the Earth. Gan, the Turtle. Shardik, the Great Bear. Things of that character. But yes, druids do worship demons occasionally. But these druids are different, madam. You are an educated mare; after all you are the Princess’s gifted student are you not?” Before she could answer, he picked up again. “Then you should be aware of what Starswirl says in his classic ‘Magic! Or How Everypony is Special ’ about how magic manifests itself in the different subspecies of pony.”
Twilight frowned. She didn’t remember the specific passage, but she knew Starswirl’s theories by heart. “Unicorns and alicorns are the only ponies who can use magic proper because their horn acts as a focal point to dissolve impurities and focus magic, right?”
“Head of the class, Ms Sparkle! No wonder Celestia picked you! Yes, that’s right. Since earth ponies and pegasi lack this wondrous horn of ours, what then would happen should they be able to use magic proper?”
“An impurity build-up,” Twilight answered, mouth moving in autopilot. “Magical pollution.”
“Top marks! Yes, impurities; yes, pollution! And what, pray tell, happens when there is a build-up of impurities, pollution of the magical nature?”
“The veil between Reality and Unreality becomes weak. Demons can escape from the warp of Tartarus, come through to our side without having to pass by Cerberus. Rampant magical energy could also cause freak storms, giant fires.”
“Marvelous, simply marvelous!” Trotson crowed. “I see now the Princess was right in suggesting you! You are quite the brilliant mare.” He coughed and his light expression fell to one of grimness, a seriousness that told her to listen very carefully to his next words. “Druids live in the Hinterlands. You know where that is? Of course you do, never mind.
“These druids, we felt were harmless. But now, one of my agents in the Hinterlands gave a disturbing report recently. The druids in the Hinterlands are Earth ponies and pegasi, using magic proper. No horns, no focusing. No removal of impurities. Celestia knows – oh, pardon me milady – Nopony knows how long they’ve been at it. We could be looking at a very polluted area.
“So what I need from you,” Trotson said, levitating his pipe from his coat pocket to his mouth, “is assistance. My agent has devised a plan, but one pony cannot accomplish it alone. I require the services of a powerful magician – namely you, my dear. I need you to travel to the Hinterlands and assist my agent in… removing these druids from power, however you can.”
Twilight was about to say something when Celestia interrupted, her violet eyes shining with an emotion normally alien to her: Fear. “Twilight, it is of grave importance you accept this mission. The Veil may already be wearing thin. If demons should come through to our side…” The regal alicorn shuddered. “I… the results will not be… pleasant. Please, Twilight. Say yes.”
The unicorn found she couldn’t speak for a long while, her purple eyes travelling from the princess to the now-smoking, patient-faced Trotson. Finally, she found her voice. “Of course. Anything to safeguard the future of Equestria.”
“Your enthusiasm is appreciated, though possibly unfounded,” Trotson said through a thick cloud of smoke. He was puffing away like a regular dragon. “You may have to do things of an… unsavory nature to accomplish your goal.”
“Doctor, I am concerned about Twilight’s safety. Do you not think she should be accompanied by somepony?” Celestia winked at Twilight.
“Hm? Oh, yes. Perhaps. I know a stallion by the name of Strongheart–”
“Maybe Twilight knows somepony who would want to help her,” Celestia interrupted, winking again. Twilight caught on to what the princess was inferring lickety-split.
Her mind raced for a moment. Fluttershy would be too afraid to travel to the Hinterlands, and there likely wasn’t enough time to convince her to go. Rarity was impossibly busy with her work and Twilight didn’t want to interfere with her budding business. Pinkie Pie was… Pinkie Pie. As long as Twilight was unable to figure out her secrets, there was no way of telling what might happen if she was brought along to a place of magical imbalance. That left Rainbow Dash and Applejack. As far as she knew, they had nothing going on. They were perfect.
“Oh, yes! I’m sure Rainbow Dash or Applejack wouldn’t mind.” She paused, a thought occurring to her. “Shouldn’t you or Princess Luna accompany us? They could be powerful magicians, after all.”
Celestia shook her head. “We couldn’t possibly leave now, Twilight, given the state of things. Canterlot is still troubled by the changeling invasion, and the griffins have decided to start posturing again. If one of us were to leave now, it’d be a sign of weakness in their eyes
“If you are so sure these friends of yours would be helpful, then by all means invite them. Just warn them of the dangers.”
“They are well-used to dangers, Doctor. They are the same friends who helped vanquish Nightmare Moon. They braved a dragon. They imprisoned Discord again. They fought their way through the streets of Canterlot during the changeling invasion.”
Trotson nodded, puffing out more smoke from his mouth. “Yes, yes. Very well. I honestly don’t care how this gets done, just that it gets done and my one true love is safe from harm. I am of course referring to the beautiful nation of Equestria that we live in, and not her highness. Although,” he said with a grin and waggling of eyebrows in the princess’s direction, “perhaps one day we could change that.”
“Perhaps,” Celestia said flatly. “But more than likely not.”
“Yes, well, just a thought,” Trotson muttered morosely, moving his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other.
“Keep it a thought, why don’t you.” Celestia took a sip of tea to hide her smile and glanced back up at her student. “Well, Twilight Sparkle? Why are you still standing here? The last train to the Hinterlands leaves tonight. Hurry if you don’t want to wait for a week for the next one.”
“Haste! Haste is the key to our salvation, Ms Sparkle! Go!” Trotson shouted through forceful puffs of his pipe.
“I done told ya, ya couldn’t beat me,” Applejack was saying.
Rainbow Dash looked at her woozily, a cup of half-empty cider in her hoof. “Best two outta three,” she replied, but what came out was “Bweftfoouhfee” and a trickle of cider from the corners of her mouth. She swallowed the rest of the cider and repeated her challenge.
“You that eager t’ get beat again, Rainbow? Awright, I’ll humour ya.” Applejack rapped her hoof on the bartop. “More cider f’r me an’ my friend here!”
The bartender pony rolled his eyes and poured two more mugs of frothy gold cider. He pushed the mugs towards the slightly giddy mares, who almost failed to catch them in time. He sighed as they began to down the cider as quickly as possible.
Rainbow tilted her head back just a tad too far and lost her balance, falling backwards off her stool. Applejack slammed her mug down in triumph.
“I win again! Ya may be the fastest flyer in all’a Equestria, but ya sure ain’t the fast drinker in all’a Equestria, no siree. That title there belongs to mah brother, Big Mac.”
Rainbow picked herself off the ground, shaking to clear the cider that had spilled on her chest. She rubbed the back of her head. “You mean to tell me there’s somepony who can drink even faster than you?”
“Dern straight there is. Why, Big Mac once drank an entire stock tank full’a water in under three minutes.”
“Really?” A look of pure amazement crossed Rainbow’s face and her magenta eyes widened.
“Nah, I’m jus’ playin’, sugarcube. Big Mac’s jus’ an ordinary pony, like you or me. ’Sceptin’ I’m obviously much better at drinkin’ than you.” Applejack punctuated this last remark with a wink. Rainbow muttered something under her breath. “What was that, darlin’? Fraid I didn’t quite hear ya there.”
“I said maybe your cutie mark should be swallowing,” Rainbow said, sarcasm biting her words. Applejack swatted her playfully with a hoof.
“There you are! Am I glad I found you girls!” Twilight came trotting up to the two mares.
“Why if it ain’t Twi!” Applejack got a sly look on her face. “Hey, you wanna see if you c’n drink faster than me?”
“Uh, maybe later Applejack. Listen, girls, I have something important to tell you. Princess Celestia’s given me a secret mission and I need your help. It’s going to be dangerous and I need somepony to be my bodyguard.”
“Well, shoot, Twi. You know me an’ Rainbow’ll be more’n happy t’ go with ya. Eh, where ya goin’ to, anyhows?”
“The Hinterlands,” Twilight replied. When she was met with blank looks, she added, “It’s up in the North. Sparsely populated.”
“It ain’t quite harvest time an’ the sheep behave themselves around Apple Bloom, so I’m free.”
“I’ve got Derpy and Flitter covering my shifts until I get back. They won’t mind. I don’t even think they’d notice me being gone longer than I said I would be.”
Twilight nodded. “Fine. I guess you can both go if you really want. I can’t guarantee that it’ll be very exciting though.”
“Anything ’s more exciting than weather duty. All we’re doing for the next three weeks is cloud-moving and the occasional rain shower. Bo-or-ring. Where’s the thunderstorms? The excitement?” Dash had a distinctly disgusted look on her face when she finished. She was a passionate mare, and right now her passions were inflamed by all the cider she drank.
“Riiiight,” Twilight said flatly. “Where’s Spike? I need to tell him where we’re going. You two need to get packed and don’t tell anypony where you’re going. This is a secret mission, okay?”
The two mares nodded their acknowledgement and Applejack added, “I think Spike’s over at th’ other bar, Twi.” With that, the Earth pony and the pegasus mare trotted off for their rooms. Twilight scanned the room for the other bar, and spotting it started towards it.
The lounge was full of ponies, talking and generally having a good time. She overheard more than a few discuss her lecture. It made her warm inside to hear somepony who had delighted to hear her speech.
Spike was drinking from a tall mug when Twilight walked up. “Spike, you aren’t old enough to drink.”
“It’s non-alcoholic, mom,” the baby dragon retorted. “What’s up, Twilight?”
“The Princess is sending me, Rainbow Dash and Applejack on a secret mission to the Hinterlands. Secret, Spike. Don’t tell anypony – especially not Pinkie. You know how she gets after a couple mugs of cider.”
“Uh, yeah. Okay. Have fun, Twilight. I guess I’ll get a ride home with Rarity.”
Twilight ruffled Spike’s frills. “There’s my Spike. Be good. Don’t let Rarity boss you around.”
“I won’t,” Spike said with a sigh.
“Don’t tell anypony!”
“Geez, I won’t! Don’t you have a secret mission to go on?”
He dreams but is awake. He floats, adrift in a foggy void. Shades of people he knew, old friends, float slowly past him. Tendrils of Doubt snake past him, slithering over his body. His skin crawls as the Doubt creeps over him, searching for a way in. Then he sees Her.
She stands – stands – there, fog swirling around her feet like the foam of Aphrodite. He feels something for the first time in eons. He feels longing. There is nothing he wants more than to be with her forever. And then she begins to shake. Her form quivers, shifts, deforms, changes . Her form becomes something indescribable, a mass of teeth and claws and feathers and eyes.
“There you a-are, loverboy,” the shape that had once been his lover hisses. “I’ve been waiting for you-u-u, waiting s-s-s-so long. You promised, Bar-s-s-sab-as-s-s, you prom-i-s-s-s-ed.” Where her head had once been, there was now a shape that could possibly be the skull of a bird of prey. The fleshy beak-like protuberance quivers sickly. “You said you’d free me, free me. Where’s-s-s my freedom, Barsabas? I’ve waited thousands of years-s-s for you, thousand-s-s-s-s!”
He feels disgust, then delight at being disgusted, then more delight at being delighted. He’s never felt this many emotions in such a short time for years. It’s almost enough to make him forget…
Make him forget
“-me-e. Don’t forget me again, Barsabas,” the thing rasps, the flesh-beak breaking open, globules of pus squirting out. “The way is weak, so very weak. Break the barrier, let me out. Let me in to your world.”
We have not forgotten, Barsabas manages finally. Thou will be released when the time comes. Now is not the time.
“Make it t-i-i-i-me. I tire of waiting.” With that, the horrible mass disintegrates into a puddle of flesh and then ash. A voice echoes from the remains, “The horn of the alicorn defiler, Barsabas-s-s-s, take his horn.” Barsabas gazes at the scattered ash through the swirling fog for a long time and then suddenly he is
“–awake, we’ll be at Bastion,” the conductor was saying as he punched their tickets.
“Trip’s that long, huh?” Rainbow accepted her ticket’s return and glanced at Twilight. “Good thing I like napping.”
“I dunno ’bout you, Twi, but I’m plum tuckered out from all that runnin’ around an’ lecture listenin’. Eh, not that you ain’t a good speaker, jus’, eh…” Applejack started to blush, her cheeks reddening.
“It’s fine, AJ. I’m perfectly fine if you two take a nap on me. I had some books sent to me from the Canterlot Royal Archive about Bastion and the Hinterlands and I could really use the–”
“Yeah, sleep. I’m gonna get right on that. I mean, no offence, Twilight, just really tired and you talking about reading makes me even more tired.” Dash gave a sheepish smile as she grabbed a pillow and began smothering herself. Within a few quick moments, snoring began to emanate from beneath the pillow.
Applejack too fell asleep, although she at least had a nice farewell to Twilight before drifting off to dreamland, and she didn’t bury herself in a pillow.
Twilight sighed, levitating a book out of her bag. While it was nice having her friends along for the ride, it was even nicer to have some quiet time reading up on Bastion. She looked over the cover of the book she held now. The Founding of Bastion. It was a rather small book, and she fully expected to be finished quickly. The other two books were on the history of the Hinterlands and the history of witches, gypsies, and druids.
She flipped open the book and began to read…
The Founding of Bastion , page 23
[…]and so it was in the final year of the Discordian War that a plan was drawn up to explore and colonise the uninhabited North. The explorer Faultless was assigned to the expedition that would later be known as “The Bastion Expedition”.
While records from the Discordian War have all been lost, enough remain to establish that the Expeditions were being sent out as a last-ditch plan in case Discord and his brood of demons overran Canterlot. Such otherwise loathsome texts as In the Time of Discord or Old Mare’s Tales did use this fact correctly. But to praise them for such is like praising a broken clock for being correct twice a day and [the text continues like this for twenty or so pages, rambling about historically inaccurate “fantasies” masquerading as historical truth. Finally it returns to the topic it began with.]
Page 47
[…] The journey was harsh, yes, but Faultless never once faltered. Despite her caravan taking losses due to direwolf and manticore attacks, she still maintained a staggering 90% survival rate, the highest on record for all the Expeditions. The next highest is 43%. Faultless lived up to her name that day.
A hoofwritten record by a settler chronicled the fateful words that Faultless uttered upon reaching the site Bastion would be founded on, immortalising them for us future generations:
“Okay well I guess we’re all here. Er, we all made it. Except the ponies who died. I’m going to put my house right here. Don’t anyone touch my future house. This will be the bastion for all ponykind in the Hinterlands. Now quit looking at me like a bunch of lost lambs and get to work!”
Sadly, Faultless would never see her house built as she died after eating some poisonous berries. Her last words were “It’s all Mantle’s fault.” , Mantle being her second-in-command. Mantle was lynched by a crowd of angry ponies for the murder of his master [once more the text goes off on a tangent, praising Faultless and damning Mantle. The status to which Faultless is raised in this book is almost deific, and Mantle is the demoniac to balance her. This detour only takes fifteen pages, picking up with the settlers building the town. The next fifty pages are a dry, tedious listing of mayors and governors of Bastion. Finally, there are a few pages on the current state of Bastion.]
Page 108
[…] the author had the distinct displeasure of visiting Bastion a few years ago. The town is currently surprisingly well maintained. It resembles Canterlot circa 1880 C.E., in the way my defecation resembles Princess Celestia [the text trails off into another rant at this point. After the rant, the rest of the book is blank.]
My Time in the Hinterlands, page 11
The Hinterlands are a very barren place. Evergreen trees are scattered throughout the wastes, often burdened with snow. The temperature remains at a steady 20 Celsius year round, although in winter and fall it can easily drop to below freezing.
Page 40
Perhaps the most striking part of the Hinterlands is the area the locals refer to as “Necropolis.” Strewn with the ruins of an ancient civilisation that many agree to predate even the alicorns, Necropolis covers about five square miles. It is ridden with holes that seem to go down into the centre of the earth.
The ruins themselves are strange and unearthly. Surely, they could not have come from the minds of ponies. Twisting in a cyclopean manner, they tower over the landscape. The largest ruin is known as the Obelisk.
It towers over all the other ruins, almost a mile tall by this mare’s reckoning. It’s shaped much like some ghastly creature’s tooth, curving and coming to a point. Like all the ruins, it’s black, possibly made of obsidian. Whatever stone it is made of seems to devour the light, creating an inky blackness that’s unnerving to see.
The Obelisk also emits a strange field. It made me prickle to be close, and one of my unicorn students was afflicted with a terrible migraine. Our local guide informed me that a sorcerer who lived in Bastion had once spent the night sleeping in the shadow of the Obelisk. Apparently, he was found dead the next day of a haemorrhage in the brain.
I desire one day to return to Necropolis, with a Geiger counter and an arcanum wand to investigate the true nature of this enigma.
Witchwick’s Almanack of Magickal Attunements and Other Sundries, page 956
They say not to suffer a witch to live. I say Nay! Thou shalt not suffer a druid to live! For a witch hath Knowledge of the Arts and will Share freely of them. A druid keepeth his Knowledge and shunneth the World. Why then are witches burnt and drown’t and druids allowed to roam the lands? If thou seest a druid in the Streets, thou shalt Slay him. If thou seest a witch in the Streets thou shalt Embrace her with Love.
Twilight found the books to be absolutely fascinating. She’d read Witchwick’s Almanack a dozen times through, but it was still as engrossing as the first time she read it. Even though her eyes were growing heavy, she kept reading. She kept reading and she–
–fell asleep, faceplanting into the open book. It was an all too familiar occurrence. Had Spike travelled with her, he would have given her an earful about studying too much. Instead, Spike had opted to stay behind in Canterlot and sleep and eat, leaving Twilight without anyone to remind her of the things she was doing wrong.
The train to Bastion rolled on, as day gave way to night, as Luna raised the moon and took her sister’s place at the top of the spires of Castle Canterlot.
A bowl. He was looking into a wooden bowl, stained a dark red. Three bone-white dice were laid nestled inside, black eyes peering up at him.
Augur lifted the bowl and placed it on the table, wood striking wood. The mare sitting across the table from him was middle-aged. She looked tired, tired in the soul.
“I must warn you,” Augur said, his voice a soft echo in the small house, “the future the dice reveal may not be pleasant.”
“I know,” she looked at him with those tired, sad eyes. “But I have to know.”
Augur nodded, his eyes closing. The bowl shook, dice rattling against each other. With one sweep, he overturned the bowl, the dice scattering on the table. He opened his eyes to gaze upon the cubes of bones. He forced his face to remain impassive as he stared at the little black eyes, the sums adding up to the future she would face.
“Death.” Augur looked away, avoiding the mare’s eyes. “The sum is death. I’m sorry.”
He saw defeat in the mare’s eyes and realised: She already knew. I was just her last chance at hope. She was about to reach into her purse and withdraw the bits she owed him when he put a hoof on her foreleg. “You don’t need to pay. This one is free. Save it for when you need it.”
She smiled a sad little smile, said thank you and left. Augur could see the defeat in her posture and tears in her eyes. His heart sunk as she slung dejectedly out the door. He sighed. Bad news was the worst news to give.
He levitated the dice back into their bowl and replaced the bowl on its shelf. As the hollow thunk of wood-on-wood echoed through the house, Augur heard a rapping on the door. “Enter,” he said. “My door is always open.”
“That’s good to know.” The voice was a woman’s, breathy and familiar. He turned to look at her. She was an elegant-looking mare, softly tinged violet. Her eyes were a light pink, much lighter than her coat. Her cutie mark was one of those cameras with the hood and accordion-like lense.
She had always reminded Augur of some pictures he had seen in a magazine a fellow who moved from Canterlot had brought with him. Inside the magazine had been photos of the Princesses Celestia and Luna holding one of their magnificent balls. One of the attendees was a beautiful mare model by the name of Fleur-something. This mare here reminded him of not only the princesses, but that Fleur as well. She had the same graceful sleekness about her.
It was, of course, Daydancer. “What can I do for you, madam?”
“I just came by to deliver a message,” she said, prodding a rather large poppet with her hoof. “Tonight, in the Grove.”
Augur cocked his head. What was tonight in the–
In the Grove. The Druid’s Grove. He blinked, surprise filling him. “This is unexpected,” he said finally. “The mockingbird usually delivers messages.”
“It was a last minute decision, apparently,” Daydancer replied, still prodding the poppet. “Moon’s Omen had a vision of some kind.”
“You say it’s tonight?” Augur asked, continuing his tasks.
“Yes,” she sidled up beside him, so close he could feel her breath on his skin. “Tonight. In the grove.” Lower, so that only he could hear – though truly, who else was there to hear? – she added, “Stay after the moot. I wish to speak to you more freely.” She smiled at him and then left as quick as she had come.
“Tonight. In the grove.” Augur repeated, feeling the syllables with his tongue. Tonight. The train was coming tonight. He had an appointment at the train depot. He…
The appointment would have to wait. A rescheduled moot was important indeed. What he would do at the depot could be done anytime.
And after the moot… With Daydancer… He wasn’t quite sure about that, nor what would come next. But he wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t looking forward to it.
A glimmer of light, reflected. It breaks into a flurry of colours, each more lovely and brighter than the last. The glass is a prism. Inside the glass is a twisting shape, a horrible twisting light. First white as the sun, then pale violet, then black as night. It rotates through the spectrum, visible and invisible.
If you were to hold it, you would feel nothing. At least, nothing at first. The longer you hold it though, the stranger things seem. You would feel light-headed. Your vision blurs. A whispering takes hold in the back of your mind, slithering to and fro. No matter how you concentrate, you cannot take hold of the whispering and discern what it says. The whispering builds and builds and builds, becoming a deafening roar. Still it remains indecipherable.
Gooseflesh appears on your skin. Your hands start to blister. Your eyes boil. You feel sick, sick inside, so very deep inside. Your symptoms would worsen. Eventually you are blind, your brain is on fire with the roar of a million dead voices, it feels like a demon is pounding a spike into your head, your hands feel like they’ve burned to the bone and you feel hollow inside, like something you never knew you had was gone.
And then you are gone. You are alive one moment, dead the next. Your body bears no wounds despite the pain you felt. The part of you that is you is still there though – there, in that glass. A disembodied spirit, denied rest and tormented with a million other souls.
The glass is a phylactery, a soul jar. The great light inside the phylactery is a soul, the black soul of Barsabas the Lich. Barsabas’ victims are funneled into this phylactery, becoming the latest voiceless scream in a choir of agony.
By the time the week was over, this small jar, barely even the size of a jar of jelly, would become the most coveted item in the Hinterlands.
A world would hinge on this phylactery.
Barsabas is ignorant of this, however. He knows only his own hunger, a hunger for revenge. He was wronged so long ago that he has forgotten for what he fights, worshiping in filth and bathing in putrescence. He worships chaos, basking in madness, death, and his own private debauchery.
He is a horrible, shambling, pitiable thing. Were the stark white of his bones not so terrifyingly bare and naked he would make a comical form: a bestial head, fanged and sharp-toothed, like a mad dog’s; a chest, great and wide from a giant or minotaur. His arms are long, ape-like, ending in the claws of a drake. His legs are the legs of poor old Rocky, long, powerful and hooved.
He has to leave soon. He is needed somewhere. He has communed with a mind like his. No, not the mind of the foul and gibbering Changer. He had touched the mind of a descendant of those who killed him before. The magics the other bore were weak, hardly worth using. But Barsabas is nothing but an opportunist.
He has slept these thousands of years, waiting. He has bore an eternity of suffering, of loss. He has made a pact with beings, the knowledge of whose very existence would tear apart lesser minds.
Barsabas has found his answer, his key to the lock of vengeance. He has waited long enough.
The alicorns will pay. Their defeat will grant him the release he sought. Their defeat will restore the natural balance. Their defeat will bring him that which he has been denied for millennia.
Pleasure.
The piercing scream of the train horn broke Twilight from a deep sleep. She pried her face out of the book, looking around with sleep-crusted eyes. AJ and Rainbow Dash were blinking their bleary eyes, slowly waking up as well. It was dark outside, and Twilight realised: We’re here in Bastion.
“I think we’ve arrived, girls,” Twilight observed, slipping the book back in her purse. “We should hurry. Our contact is meeting us here.”
Rainbow peeked out the window, her prismatic mane ruffling in the slight breeze. “In this dump? It’s like the flank-end of Ponyville times a thousand! Lame.”
AJ thumped Rainbow on the head. “Watch yer tongue there, missy. Some’a mah best friends are from ‘the flank end’a Ponyville’.”
“I don’t live in Ponyville,” the cyan pegasus retorted with a wink.
Twilight slung her saddlebags on her back and shot a slightly irritated glance towards the two. “Come on you two, let’s move.”
The other two mares gathered up their saddlebags and followed the purple unicorn down the long train, and out the door. It was eerily quiet in the train. Only a few other ponies were aboard, and those few were going about the business of gathering their things and preparing to leave the train like the trio. A few of the fellow passengers looked up at Rainbow and AJ, eyeing the mares with an impassive stare.
When AJ stepped out of the train, she was struck by how cool it was outside compared to the train. The train had felt stuffy despite the open window. Out here, it was nice and cool, like early spring or fall. She took a deep breath in, her first official breath of Hinterlands air. It smelled faintly of cinnamon and the wet, heavy promise of rain in the near future.
She looked down, searching for Twilight. The unicorn was standing in the midst of the station, head turning one way and then another.
“He’s not here,” she said.
“Who’s not here, sugarplum?”
“Our contact, who else? Doctor Trotson said he’d meet us here when the train arrived. There’s nopony here who’s looking for us!” Twilight was getting more and more agitated as time passed and the contact failed to show. AJ shot Rainbow a worried glance.
“Maybe they got th’ pony pox, Twi. Let’s not worry about it too much right now. What we need is a soft warm bed. Pref’rably three of ’em. We’ll worry ’bout that rascal tomorrow when we’re all rested up and in a better mood.” She thrust her hoof at Twilight. “Deal?”
Twilight cocked her head and stared at the hoof for a while, like a scientist observing a particularly unusual rodent. Then she nodded and shook AJ’s hoof. “Deal. Let’s find a hotel to stay in.”
Bastion may have been the crown jewel of the Hinterlands, but it still lacked some basic necessities that the ponies had taken for granted. Namely, there was only one inn in the town, and it was a rather small one. Its name was Stable Abel’s and it was run by an old pony named Abel. It was quaint to the point of being sickening.
“Three lovely mares from out-of-town, ohoh?” Abel had asked, digging in his desk for a set of room keys. “What mischief could you be up to, eheh?”
Twilight froze, unsure what to say. AJ leapt to the rescue once again, “We’re botanists an’ geologists from Canterlot. We’re investigatin’ the soil an’ rocks ’round here. Minister of, uh, Growy Things thinks th’ soil here might be just a fur more fertile, know what I’m sayin’?”
“Ayuh, I hear ya,” the old pony said, still digging. “You folks gonna watch the Gypsy in the Square tomorrow?” Tomorrow sounded more like tomorruh to the mares.
“Gypsy?” Twilight had inquired.
“Ayuh, gypsy. Pretty thing, she is. Came into town few months back, been peddlin’ ever since. I think she’s involved with them… Ah, forget about me. Not a lick of sense in me,” he finished with a laugh, withdrawing a keyring in triumph. He flicked the keys back, searching for one key in particular with a look of determination. “What I’m gettin’ at here is Mayor Bronze Mane don’t like her, not one bit.” He popped a key off and produced it with a proud sweep of his foreleg. “Here ya go. Room 113. There’s naught but two beds and a couch, so either a couple of you ladies’ll have to bunk together or somepony gets the short straw on the couch.”
As the unicorn lifted the key in the air, AJ said, “I’ll sleep on the couch. Y’all can have the beds. I’m fine with sleepin’ on hard stuff.”
The mares trotted down the hall towards room 113, chatting amicably as they did so. Abel watched them, pale eyes glittering. His ear twitched and he sniffed. As they turned out of sight, the pony looked down and shook his head.
The trees in the Grove swayed in the breeze, leaves whispering indistinctly. Augur paused at the wrought-iron gates, staring at the leaf-covered path flanked by the many trees. The long, winding path led to the centre of the Grove, the monolithic stones throwing up their protective shadow around the Council that would meet there. The leaves crunched beneath his feet and the chill of the autumn wind raised gooseflesh under his warm coat. He continued on, in the knowledge that it would be warmer in the centre, with the columns blocking the wind.
As he trotted up to the centre, he found that the moot had begun without him. In recent days, their meetings had started before he arrived. Were Augur a more paranoid stallion, he would have assumed that they were starting without him.
“It was thus,” Moon’s Omen was saying, “that while I slept, I had a vision. A vision of a beast who was not a beast. He spake unto me, and told me that he knew of our plans. Our plans to spread our gift of magic.
“He said he could aid us in our quest. He knew of magics to spread our gift. He said his greatest desire would be to share our love with the world. And so it shall be,” the elder pony finished, bowing his head.
“No offence meant, sir,” Augur found himself saying. “But how are we to know that this was truly a vision and not simply a dream?”
“I can only tell you what I experienced. It is up to you to decide what you believe. But you will not have to take my word for it.” Behind him, a great shadow rose from the depths. It was formless, a bundle of lumps with two glittering blue darts of light that must have been eyes.
Thine desires touch my heart, came the rumbling voice of the Thing behind Moon’s Omen. It was deep, reverberating. It reminded Augur of how the radio he sometimes listened to in the social hall sounded, when it was a particularly cloudy night. I will grant thy wishes to the best of mine ability. I am called Barsabas. My people were an ancient one, long since passed. Thy dreams are similar to the dreams mine people had, a world of magick.
Augur felt his breath catch. The Thing, Barsabas was taller and wider than any pony he had ever seen. There was a sense of heavy, oppressiveness emanating from the Thing, so thick it was almost suffocating. He caught Daydancer’s eye, gold meeting pink. He could not see her face, only the glitter of her eyes in the flickering firelight, but they were eyes full of fear.
“What are you planning?” Augur found himself asking.
The Tooth of Giants, Barsabas’ stormy voice reverberated. Thou call it ‘the Obelisk’ I believe. Built it we did for that great cascade of magicks, the snow of mana. If thou were to operate the Tooth in the manner we designed, thine gift shalt be the gift of the world.
That black oppressiveness was too much for Augur. His breath was catching in his throat, and he felt pressure on his chest. He backed slowly out of the moot hall, trying to catch Daydancer’s eyes again. She glanced at him and began to follow suit. The other ponies and that horrible Thing of darkness did not notice, enveloped as they were in their plans for the future.
“What’s going on?” Daydancer asked, voice low and out of breath. “What is that thing?”
“Something not at all good,” Augur replied. He glanced around the garden, searching for anypony spying on them. Good, they were all still in the moot. “We were to be a band of brothers and sisters embracing an alternative lifestyle, not forcing magic on everypony.”
“Can they really use the Obelisk?”
“Doubtful. You couldn’t get inside it, even if it was hollow. It’s a fool’s errand, and it can only end in disaster.” He paused and looked up at the sliver of moon that was beginning to be born from the inky womb of night. “But regardless, I don’t want to be here when it does end.”
Daydancer shivered, her robe quivering. “I don’t want to be here either. Wherever you go… take me with you.”
Augur paused a long moment. Then he nodded. “There’s no train for quite a while. I think I know a way to leave, though.”
“Cinnamon swirl muffins,” Rainbow Dash sighed. “Is there anything better?”
“Apple cobbler, apple pie, apple tarts, apple strudel…”
“You have really bad opinions, AJ.” The pegasus’s voice was muffled by another mouthful of cinnamon delight.
Twilight wiped her mouth with a floating napkin. The inn they were staying at was located right next to a bakery, and her two friends had cajoled her into testing their wares. She was delighted to find that the bakery was almost – almost – on the same level as the Cakes’ prowess.
“Now, girls, we’ve got a lot of work ahead of us today,” Twilight said, dropping the napkin neatly on her plate.
“Yeah all that studying,” Rainbow bit into another cinnamon muffin. “Ohhh. What do they put in these to make them so good?”
“Cinnamon, butter, flour, brown sugar,” Applejack began to list.
“Stop listing things. You’re a real list machine today.”
“We need to find that contact,” the unicorn continued, ignoring the banter. “It’s vital to our mission. You know the one Princess Celestia gave me.”
“Right, yeah,” Rainbow said, finishing her muffin. “Can we get a bag of these to go?”
All roads in Bastion lead to the town square. It’s an old-fashioned concept, dating back to colonial times. As of right now, the town square was occupied, which in itself was not unusual. But such an occupant as it now held was indeed unusual and worthy of the attention it was receiving.
The occupant was thus: One gypsy wagon, painted an eye-catching but not displeasing shade of purple. There were gold trimmings round the roof and door, and a hoof-painted sign reading “ARCANE AND AMAZING MAGICKS, FORTUNE-TELLING, SEANCES AND EXORCISMS PERFORMED FOR YOUR PLEASURE” hung from the side.
A crowd had gathered around it, curious first about the oddity of a gypsy wagon, and then curious about the sign and what it meant. When Twilight and her friends stumbled into the crowd, they first thought that there was some sort of public gathering, a speech to be held.
So what happened next surprised them completely.
The wagon’s sides opened, and they seemed to undergo a transformation into a small wooden stage, worthy of any travelling entertainer. A voice, amplified through some magic or device echoed through the streets.
“Come one! Come all! Come and marvel at –
–the Gr-r-eat and Powerful Tr-r-rixe!”
There was only one thing Twilight could think. There was only one thing she could say.
“What.”
The time was exactly 7:05 am (Canterlot Plains time) when Pinkie snapped awake. She sprang from her large, quite comfy bed, covers hurtling into the air. A pioneering rat who had chewed his way in through the pipes in the bathroom had quite a fright. The pink explosion of activity was immortalised in a trash painting and later the play “The Devil Rather Enjoys Wearing Pink” which led to a ban of the colour pink in rat society.
Oblivious of the societal upheaval being born nearby, Pinkie hopped over to her bathroom mirror and began to run her hairbrush through her mane. Within a few minutes, the energetic mare had straightened her entire mane. There was a sound not unlike a balloon rapidly deflating as her mane underwent a sudden transformation. It could now only be described as “poofy”, like a floating cloud of cavity-bearing cotton candy.
“You know what time it is, Mirror-Me!” Alas, Mirror-Me did not know. She only parroted Pinkie’s words soundlessly. “That’s right!” Pinkie crowed, eyes shut in rapt happiness. “It’s time for Twilight time! ‘Twitime’! OOH that’s catchy! I’ll have to tell her that one!” Content that her mane was at maximum levels of poofiness, Pinkie bounded off, not even a farewell to faithful old Mirror-Me who was always there for her.
It was by good fortune that Pinkie had been placed directly across the hall from her KSMBFFFRN (Kinda Sorta Maybe Best Friend Forever For Right Now) Twilight Sparkle. Still basking in ecstasy, Pinkie began to rapidly rap on the door to Twilight’s room, first to the tune of “What a Friend I Have in Luna” then to “The Fiendish Dance of the Paddyknocker Foal”, then an oddly captivating medley of the two.
“Good morning-worning!” Pinkie squeaked as the door opened.
“Uh, who are you?”
Pinkie cracked open one eye. Dark purple, check. Horn, nope. Wings? Yep. “You’re not Twilight,” Pinkie said, an accusatory tone in her voice.
“Yeah, I’m not,” the pegasus grimaced. “And if this Twilight has friends as irritating as you, I don’t want to be.”
With that, the pegasus slammed the door on the pink pony. Pinkie stood there, frazzled, bedazzled and most of all utterly befuzzled. Where had Twilight gone? Had aliens snatched up all the unicorns in Equestria? That would be terrible !
“Goodness gracious lacious!” Pinkie shrieked at that thought.
“Is something wrong, Pinkie? It’s entirely too early for problems.” Rarity had come up behind Pinkie sometime while the mare was rapt in imagining the alien invasion of Canterlot. As Pinkie turned to face her, she noticed that not a hair was out of place on the fashionable unicorn’s mane. Had the aliens returned her? Or maybe… maybe she was an alien!
“You’re not an alien, are you?” Pinkie asked.
“Not since the last time I checked, dear. What’s going on?”
“I went to knock on the door and somepony I’ve never seen before answered and Twilight wasn’t there and I think that aliens kidnapped her! Also I thought you might’ve been an alien too but everypony knows aliens can’t tell a lie and you said you weren’t so you’re obviously not.” Pinkie gasped, out of breath.
“Aliens.”
“What else could it be?” Pinkie’s voice was rising to glass-shattering highness.
Rarity mimed twisting a dial to the left. “Volume, dear, volume. I’m sure there is a reasonable explanation for this that doesn’t involve aliens.” She sighed. “Look, Applejack was going to accompany me to a trade show. Something about ‘sampling the enemy’s pears and wares’. If anypony knows where Twilight went, it will be her.”
“Okey dokey lokey,” Pinkie said, doubt in every syllable.
The trip down to Applejack’s room was a quick one. The six friends had all called ahead at the same time, and thus had been placed in a small block of the hotel. Once they were outside the room, Rarity knocked in a very proper manner befitting a lady. They stood there in silence, waiting. After a time, she knocked again. They waited once more. There was a distinct lack of door-answering.
“She doesn’t seem to be here,” Rarity said, using all of her deductive powers.
“I coulda told you that,” Spike’s voice drifted up the hall.
The two mares swiveled around to see the baby dragon slowly stumble down the hall, claws catching in the thick blue carpet. When he had gotten close to them, he stopped and propped himself up against the wall. On his head sat a bowler cap at a crooked yet stylish manner, and around his neck he wore a checked scarf. A too-big watch that appeared to have been made of solid gold dangled from his wrist.
“Spike! Where on earth have you been?” Rarity demanded of him.
“Around,” he replied evasively, eyes darting around. “Twi, AJ, and Dash left during the after-speech party celebratory thingum.”
“Oh. But where did they go, Spikey?” Rarity batted her long eyelashes. The dragon bit his lower lip and squinted.
“Secret mission from the Princess.” As soon as those words left his lips he stood ramrod straight, eyes widening. “I mean, that’s the exact opposite of what they did! There was no secret mission, especially ones from the Princess.”
“Secret mission? And they didn’t invite us?” There was more than a little indignation in Pinkie’s voice.
“Well I for one am certain they had good reason to exclude us.” Rarity closed her eyes as she usually did in moments of didacticism. “Besides, secret missions do horrible things to the constitution,” she added, fluffing her mane.
“Yeah, well... I want a secret mission of my own,” Pinkie groused.
Rarity made a half-hearted attempt to avoid rolling her eyes. “Why not see the princess and try to take one off her hooves? I’m sure she has scads of them lying about.”
“Okey dokey lokey!” Pinkie bounded off. This time Rarity did not attempt to avoid rolling her eyes. Her sarcasm was lost on the bubbly mare.
“Ohhhh Spikeeeeey wikeeeeey. Would you be a dear and come with me to a show?”
Tea time at Celestia’s. The regal alicorn lounged in her solar, basking in the warm light. Her luminous mane flowed despite there being no breeze. Dr Trotson sat nearby, swishing his tea around to dissolve a bit of sugar stuck to the side of his cup.
“I’ve always wanted to try cockatrice egg omelet,” he commented idly.
“It’ll give you kidney stones.”
“Heh.”
The door to the solar opened, and a gold-armoured guard entered. “A ‘Pinkie Pie’ to see you, Princess.”
Celestia shrugged, a mean feat mid-sip. “Three’s company. May well let her in.”
The guard nodded and backed out. The princess and the doctor sat in silence together for a few moments. The door creaked open, and a bright pink pony entered, flanked by the guard. “Pinkie Pie to see the Princess,” the guard announced.
“Good morning, Pinkie. Tea?” Celestia floated the tea past Pinkie’s nose.
“Not unless the flavour is secret mission!”
“Oh. You know about Twilight. You girls share everything.”
“Everything?” asked Trotson.
“Hush, you.”
“I want a secret mission too, or I’ll tell everypony about Twilight and her secret mission and the aliens!”
“Oh dear, anything but the aliens,” Trotson intoned flatly. “Tell the world of the secret mission, but not the aliens, please.”
“You must give into her demands,” Celestia begged. “Aliens are our deepest, darkest, most secrety secret.”
“I just happen to have a mission of the gravest importance,” the doctor said. “You must speak of it to nopony.”
“I’m readier than ready!” Pinkie snapped off a smart salute.
“Somepony has been stealing supplies from the Royal Kitchen. You must find out who. This could upset the balance of power if left unchecked.”
“You can rest easy knowing Pinkie Pie is on the job!”
“I feel better already,” Celestia said. “Go! Save the pantries of Equestria from desolation!”
Pinkie bolted out the door at top speed, hurrying to the kitchen.
The two leaders sipped their tea.
“What kind of foal do you think your niece and her husband will have?”
“A centaur, I hope.”
“–the Gr-r-reat and Powerful Tr-r-rixie!”
“What.” Twilight’s voice was flat and disbelieving.
“Well ain’t this like findin’ a pineapple at th’ bottom of th’ apple barrel.”
Maybe it was a flash of magical cognizance. Maybe it was utter disbelief at seeing a minor character from a short chapter of her life in such an unlikely place. Whatever the reason, Twilight found herself uttering Trixie’s name loud enough for the stage magician to hear. Not even a heartbeat had passed before the mare dramatically put a hoof to her head.
“Trixie has a sudden migraine! She needs to be alone. Except you three – the purple unicorn and friends! I sense through the aether – yes, you know of the healing arts of, ah, healing! Come and aid Trixie!”
The unicorn ducked back inside her wagon, and Rainbow shook her head. “We’d better see what con she’s up to this time.”
Twilight nodded, and started for the gypsy wagon.
As the trio entered the wagon, Trixie was seated on a stool facing a trick mirror, running a hairbrush through her mane. Applejack reflected that such a thing would be difficult, doubly so with a headache. She also noted that the wagon seemed to be larger on the inside than on the out, which was troubling and more than a little disorienting.
“It’s about time you showed up,” Trixie said, much of her arrogance gone. “I am surprised that you three of all ponies would be my contacts here.”
“You’re the agent?” all three exclaimed in perfect unison.
“Is that really such a difficult concept to grasp?” the magician asked. Now she was beginning to sound like the Trixie they had tangled with before.
“More surprising than anything,” the other unicorn replied. “Were you an agent that day in Ponyville?”
“That came after,” Trixie placed her brush down on a nearby table, and swiveled to face them. “Things have changed for me since then. No longer do I merely put on a show and get bits showered on me by my fans. Now I put on a show and get bits showered on me by my fans and I save Equestria from danger. It’s rather fun.”
“Did all this happen on account of that l’il ursa minor problem? I mean, not that either one was little.”
“Contrary to your belief, not all life in Equestria revolves around your little village. Besides, can I help it if my tale-weaving abilities are that good?”
“I don’t mean to rain on any parade ya might be havin’, but it ain’t that hard to bollix Snips an’ Snails. They’re a couple apples short of a Granny Smith award-winnin’ pie, if’n ya catch my meanin’.”
“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” Twilight interrupted. “We need to get working on stopping the druids from finishing whatever plans they may have.”
“As much as I am loath to admit it, your friend is correct. Their plans are in motion, and the wheels are spinning even faster now. When I arrived here months ago, they were little more than a garden club. Now they’re more dangerous than a pack of griffins in the frenzy. Soon they’ll be finishing their dastardly designs.”
“All this talk of druids reminds me of that one Daring-Do book.” Rainbow flushed. “Oh, I said that out loud, didn’t I”
“So all of them? Twilight asked.
“No, just the one with the evil cult.”
“So all of them.”
“Anyway,” Trixie said, ignoring the other conversation, “I’ve attempted to perform an augury and I’ve tried scrying to see what they’re up to. The scrying failed; I think they have some wards.”
“You followed the proper formulae?”
“The ones written by Starswirl and perfected by Bluebonnet.”
“You used genuine gizzard stones from a basilisk’s stomach?”
“What kind of sorceress would I be if I didn’t?”
Dash rolled her eyes. “Eggheads.”
Trixie glowered at the pegasus and then returned her gaze to Twilight. “I have a lead on a druid who might be sympathetic to our cause. His name’s Augur. He’s an oracle who sells his talents for bits.”
“A fortune teller.” Twilight’s face was doubtful.
“If you must be garish, yes. All my other leads have come up dry. He’s the last one I have left.”
“Then let’s go see him,” Twilight said.
The door to the apothecary opened with the jingle of the bell and Augur followed the bell’s announcement. Like all the buildings in Bastion, the apothecary was small in a homey, pleasant way and not cramped at all.
The owner, a pale, creamy white unicorn with the unlikely name of “Allie Horn” popped up from behind the counter, adjusting his prince-nez with a spark of silver magic. “Friend Augur!” His voice was rough and cracked from age. “In need of something? Manticore stinger? Harpy tail feather? Recently got fresh shipment in.”
Augur nodded, eyes scouring the shelves for what he needed. Long ago he had ordered an antique grimoire and poured over its yellowed fragile leaves. One of the many spells he had learned was an ancient alicorn ritual of instantaneous transportation. To ensure the success of this complex incantation, he required some very rare ingredients he could only get at Allie’s Apothecary. “Quite a few things,” he said, pushing his shopping list towards the unicorn with his nose.
Allie browsed the list, brow furrowing as he did so. “Rather unusual, this list of yours. Planning some sort of teleportation spell?”
“Something like that,” the druid muttered. “You have what I need?”
“Hah! What kind of alchemist would I be if I didn’t? Most of it is in the rare stocks, I’m afraid. Will take time, stocks in basement. Wait here?”
Augur nodded without a word. Things were about to get hard… Just how hard, he had no way of knowing.
The two thin, hooked rods slipped into the lock, slowly fiddling up and down. The lock clicked several times before a final definite clack sounded. A blue hoof reached up and pushed the door open with a creak. Trixie entered the oracle’s small hut, pointed cap brushing and bending on the door frame. Behind her came the three mare-friends from Ponyville.
“This don’t seem exactly, uh, legal,” Applejack said.
“It isn’t,” Trixie prodded a glass orb.
“Oh.”
Rainbow flicked around the room, taking in all the strange devices and the hanging charms and poppets scattered about. “This is like Zecora’s place, except creepier. Which is something I never thought I’d say.”
Twilight flipped open a book sitting on a table, squinting to make out the squiggly scrawls. “I don’t think he’s here… This is an old alicorn spellbook and it’s bookmarked to a page on teleportation rituals. I don’t see any of the required ingredients here and I don’t think he’d leave without his instructions.”
The stage magician-cum-spy shrugged, replacing the orb to its shelf. “Then we wait for him to return.”
“Wait? Ugh, sounds boring.”
Applejack shushed Dash, and the hut fell into silence. And so they waited.
Allie had barely counted the bits when Augur exited the apothecary at a rapid trot. The alchemist slipped the bits into his register, watching the younger pony carefully. When he had gone out of sight, Allie closed the window’s shutters, and flipped the open sign around. He pulled out a dark sheet of fabric from beneath the counter.
Gathering the druid’s robes around him, he magicked open a trapdoor hidden beneath one of the several rugs he had covering the hardwood floors. He trotted quickly down the stair case, shutting the door behind him.
“When a brother betrays a brother, vengeance must be taken,” Moon’s Omen said to himself grimly.
With a sigh, Augur unlatched the door and trotted into his house, satchel bags full of the materials he needed. He levitated the bags, gold aura shimmering around them, deforming as they were set on the table. Augur’s ear twitched slightly, he had a slight stab of pain behind his right eye, and he paused in his canter. His prescience was warning him of something.
Prescience is a controversial subject among the Philosoponies and scientists alike. It’s common enough for unicorns to have foresight, but only after much practise. But an earth pony who could soothsay? The very idea excites and enrages the community. Not even Twilight Sparkle’s essay on “Pinkie Sense” could bring them to an impasse (though a research team was sent to follow Pinkie Pie around for a week. Their report consisted of the following: “Her cupcakes are very good. Recommend she be hired as official pastry chef of the Philosoponies Institute.”).
But Augur… Augur always had prescience, even as a foal. When playing Pegasi and Griffins in the abandoned quarry with his best friend (he was the pegasus, his friend the griffin), his ear began to twitch and he had a pain behind that right eye. He thought nothing of it, and continued playing. The quarry had never been stable to begin with. In fact, that was the very reason it was abandoned.
As it happened, the slow erosion of years and the quarry’s innate weakness chose that moment to combine forces. The cliffs began to collapse. Augur and his friend couldn’t possibly escape. The only thing the poor pony remembered of that was a horrible feeling that wasn’t a feeling – the pull of gravity, the gaping maw of the quarry, the wind pushing him –
Then all was darkness.
When the two friends never returned from the quarry, a search party was gathered. After hours of searching past the twilight into the forlorn darkness of night, the foals were found. The fate of his friend was a sad one, a life cut short. The only solace one could find was that her death had been quick.
Augur clutched to life, like the knights of old clutched the banners of Celestia against the biting winds. He was trapped in the cold grasp of sleep, in such a deep coma the doctor had simply shook his head. His parents were of a different mind. They sat with him, day after day, week after week. These weeks stretched into months, months into a year.
It was a year and a half to the day when Augur opened his eyes again. It was another month before he could walk, and a month more before his speech was understandable. Of his dexterity, it remained crippled; he was never as active as he once was. His writing took a significant turn to the worse. He had a dream once, of being a painter, crafting art from the unique landscapes of the Hinterlands. But the injuries he sustained crushed any hope of that.
You lived for a purpose, his mother would say. Celestia spared you. Your fate is something greater than you or I can comprehend. If Celestia had truly spared him, why did he fall to begin with? He would not dare say these things to her, though he thought them every day.
He wandered, lost for many years. Until one day, his ears twitched once more, the back of his eye pained him, and a druidic praise book fell into his hooves. A grove member had lost it from their robe after a moot, by chance or by design, it could not be said.
The book opened Augur’s mind to a possibility he had never once considered: the druidic gods had guided his life, from the accident forth. He read and understood their sermons; he recognised his prescience as a gift from them. He wanted most of all to serve.
And serve he did.
We come again to prescience. His ear twitch was a violent one. His eye felt as though it would fall out. Prescience. Augur could not discern – not without his tools – what his ear was detecting, only that he needed to be careful. He slowly stepped through the beaded curtain from his workplace to his living quarters, and there saw what his ears and eye had seen: Company.
Four mares, either sitting on his chairs or the floor. Two unicorns, one purple, one blue seated in his rocking chairs. An earth pony with a ridiculous hat lounged by the fireplace, an apple stuck in her mouth as she froze. A pegasus stopped in her toying with one of his hanging charms.
“I wondered what happened to Rocky when he didn’t show up the other night,” Augur said. “Was the package worth your time?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about and I don’t care. You’re a druid, aren’t you?” The blue unicorn flipped her mane haughtily, glaring at the pony.
“Yes, I am. Though honestly you could’ve found that out from anypony in town.”
“First hand sources are better than second hand.” That was the purple unicorn.
“Very well. That package was nothing. Just some ingredients and a spellbook. Rocky wasn’t the brightest and he always assumed it was something important.”
“What about your grove?” Trixie interrogated. “What’s their plan?”
Augur blinked. She was forward, wasn’t she? He opened his mouth to send a barb at her when he froze. He had already cast his lot against his grove – why should he stay loyal to them now.
Sighing, he looked down. He was so confused. His mind raced as he tried to process the new events. Then he closed his eyes and told them everything.
The direwolf growled, emanating from the depths of its bowels. Its mates lowered themselves on their haunches, preparing to spring. Moon’s Omen magicked open the gate and jumped back. The direwolves sprang out, fire licking at their lips. Growling, the pack leader whipped its head around towards the unicorn. A glow surrounded the direwolves’ heads, and they turned with one mind, and sprinted off towards their destination.
“How?” Twilight Sparkle asked. The druid shook his head.
“I don’t know, exactly. All I’ve been told is it involves the Obelisk.”
“The what?” Applejack scratched her head, and Rainbow looked about as lost as her.
“The Obelisk, you morons. It’s an ancient construct of unknown purpose,” Trixie exposited in a huff. “If they think they can use the Obelisk as a catalyst, who knows what could happen?”
“No doubt something terrible. Augur, we need to go to the Obelisk and look around. Can you take us there?”
He nodded. “But first I want to get Day-”
The window suddenly shattered, and a black snarling mass of fur and flame vaulted in. A direwolf. Sheathed in flame, the hellbeast snapped its slavering jaws, peering out through white eyes at them. This beast was a direct descendant of the monsters that plagued the Bastion Expedition.
“Aw horseapples!” Applejack dove off her chair, rolling into a defencive position. Her hat bounced into a corner.
Steaming droplets of drool fell to the floor, eating through the floorboards with a hiss of steam. The direwolf began to strafe to its right, keeping Augur locked in its sight at all times. It tensed in the back and leapt at the druid in the blink of an eye.
A prismatic streak slammed into the leaping direwolf, sending it flying across the room. It struck the fireplace hard. Rainbow Dash hovered where she had intercepted the beast with a smirk on his faster.
“Maybe I should change my name to Rainbow Smash!” Rainbow beamed at her success.
The direwolf sprang back to its feet and let out an unearthly howl that vibrated the very soul. It snapped its head back to gaze at Rainbow Dash, and began to strafe again, keeping her in sight. The wolf stopped abruptly and reared its head back. There was a great inhalation, and then it snapped its head back, emitting a gout of flame from its mouth.
Dash juked out of the way with a muffled swear, cracking her head on a beam. Woozily, she crashed to the floor. Her head throbbed, and her vision was beginning to get blurry.
She felt something hot and sharp sink into her leg. Her vision cleared in a snap, and she saw the direwolf biting her leg. She tried to beat it off but the beast just shrugged the blows off. Her leg was burning with pain and blood was dripping on the floor from the wolf’s fangs. It started to drag her towards the shattered window. Now Dash really started to panic.
“AJ! AJ! HELP!”
With the speed and power that had won her the gold medal in applebucking three years straight, Applejack leapt to her friend’s rescue, kicking the wolf as hard as possible with her hind legs. There was a sickening crack, and the wolf tumbled over onto its back.
The direwolf’s legs kicked pathetically, and a whimper escaped its lips. The fires on its fur and in its mouth died as it kicked one final time, arcing its back in a horrible rictus of death.
The beads swung. The breeze blew in from the remains of the window. Dash propped herself against a wall to allow Applejack to inspect her wounds. The small flames left by the direwolf’s passing died out.
Augur prodded the corpse with a hoof. “Odd timing, that. Attacked by a beast that’s supposed to extinct as I meet with agents of the Princess.”
“You think somepony’s trying to kill us?” Twilight asked.
“I don’t think. I know. Somepony in the grove knows I’ve betrayed them somehow.” His eyes widened. “Daydancer !” He spun around to face the two magicians. “We need to find Daydancer! If they know I’ve betrayed them they’ll know she has too! We need to get her out of here!”
“Wrong,” Trixie snapped. “We need to go to the Obelisk! Stopping a ritual that means the end of Equestria as we know it is far more important than saving your special somepony!”
“No, we need a doctor,” Applejack butted in. “I don’t like the way Dash’s leg looks. I think that wolf had somethin’ awful in its mouth.”
“For Celestia’s sake!” A vein on Twilight’s face was standing out. “Trixie, the ritual’s waited a while it can wait a while longer. We’ll go get this Daydancer and hide her then we’ll head out to the Obelisk. Applejack, you take Rainbow Dash to the nearest doctor. No complaints, let’s go!”
The door slammed shut. There was silence in the house. The wind continued to blow.
A shadow moved over the corpse of the direwolf. The pack leader sniffed its fallen companion. It laid down next to the corpse, and buried its muzzle in the gaping jaw of the other. A spark of flame passed between them.
The leader stepped away, staring at the corpse. With the crack of bones setting, the formerly dead direwolf rose again, flames returning to its hide and breath. A glimmer of communication passed between the two, and they howled their soul-piercing howl.
They’d have to work for their meals this time.
Augur ran, following the magic ripples left in Daydancer’s wake. They were all through town, but strongest in the direction he was going. He could feel, in the back of his mind, that she lived somewhere nearby.
His heart pounded, he could hear blood rushing in his ears. Had a direwolf reached her before him? Was she still safe? He quickened his pace. He couldn’t feel the ripples of Trixie and Twilight behind him. He must have outpaced them long ago.
As he turned the corner, he felt the core of Daydancer’s ripples. Everything flowed from here, it had to be her house, it must be!
He banged into the door, sending it flying open. An elderly mare behind the counter dove for cover. She lived in an apartment, he realised.
“Where does Daydancer live?” he asked, out of breath and panting heavily.
“Room 14,” the landmare squeaked, trembling.
Augur burst into a run again, galloping at full pace down the hall. His hooves made no sound on the carpet, thin as it was. Room 11… Room 12… Room 14! He jiggled the handle. Locked. He threw his full strength to bear as he slammed into the door, again and again and again.
Finally, the latch gave and the wood around it splintered. He fell in, unbalanced by the sudden opening. Lifting himself up, he glanced hurriedly around the room. The room was empty, but he still felt strong echoes of her presence in the magic vibrations.
His eyes fell on something that chilled him to the bone. The window was shattered, wall forced inward. Glass was strewn on the carpet, and a trail of blood led up the wall and out the window. Burn marks scarred the carpet, and a table was overturned.
“No! No! NO!” Augur fell to his knees, head swimming. Disbelief flooded his mind. She couldn’t possibly be gone, she’d fought off the direwolf and escaped. She couldn’t be gone. She wasn’t gone.
Something struck his head from behind. The sudden blow unbalanced him further, causing him to fall to side, hitting the wall with his shoulder. The pain jolted him back from his despair.
“Get up!” Trixie barked. “Your stupid marefriend means nothing to me! The only thing that matters is stopping the ritual!” She smacked Augur again. “Man up! Are you a stallion or a mouse? Get off your flank and do what’s important. Do the right thing.” Her eyes were filled with fire, her voice livid. Augur shivered with rage, jaw trembling.
Then… he shut his eyes and took in a deep breath. “Y- you’re right. If she’s still alive she’ll more than likely be near the Obelisk.”
A keening note pierced the air, reverberating in the ponies’ skulls. The two unicorns threw their hooves to their horns, and Augur clutched his head. As quick as it came, the note ended, an unfinished cry still echoing.
“What was that?” Twilight gasped.
“What do you think?” Trixie’s face grew grim. “They’ve started.”
Daydancer woke to a terrible cacophony – the wailing of pony voices, the basso rumble of the great black Thing and a keening sound that seemed to stab into her very soul. The hurtful sound stopped abruptly as Moon’s Omen appeared in her vision, a wraith floating in the darkness. He stood above her, looking down. His wet purple gaze ran down her body, making her feel unclean.
“Welcome back,” he breathed. “Shame you made such poor decisions, my dear. You could’ve had a place in our new world. But fret not. By your blood, the new world will begin.” His mouth stretched in a mocking rictus of a grin.
“Dreams are a curious thing. They take many shapes and instill many emotions in the dreamer. Certain dreamers have reoccurring dreams, some of which influence other dreams. These I refer to as ‘the forest of dreams’. The dreams are like trees in a forest, their roots deep in the dreamer’s mind. These roots frequently entangle, and from them these crossover dreams are born.”
–Thoreaubred the famous psychologist
The black forest spun around Twilight Sparkle. The very trees seemed to bend toward her. Vertigo seized her, its fist striking her stomach. Nausea overtook her and she purged herself, spitting out the bitter remnants afterward.
A keening note resounded through the forest for a brief moment causing a spike of pain to shoot through Twilight’s head. As she held a hoof to her head, a wet snarl drifted from nearby. Ignoring the pain, Twilight spun to look for the source.
A pack of direwolves – ten strong at least – were slowly emerging from the deeper reaches of the forest. Naught but shadow and flame, the beasts eyed the mare hungrily. The largest sprang at Twilight.
She jumped out of the way only to strike a tree. She felt a sharp pain in her side. Had to be a bruised rib. For a brief moment, she wondered where that tree had come from, but the thought drifted away as the next direwolf leapt to tear her throat out.
Then, with a literal flash of inspiration, Twilight cast one of the easiest spells she’d learned: An illumination spell. Light so brilliant one could not look on it for long filled the forest, banishing the shadows for a split second. The leaping wolf was gone when the darkness returned, an afterimage burned into the air where it had been.
The mare smiled slightly, pride at her work filling her.
With a metallic screech, the terrible note began again, louder and more painful than before. It was so intense Twilight could not bear to stand. Her very soul was being assaulted by the riotous noise. There was warmth in her ears and she knew with a horrifying finality she was bleeding from them. The direwolves would fall on her, tear her apart; there was no way around it. She closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable. Oh, Spike. I’m sorry. Then the light took her.
That soul-piercing note grew every iteration. Even the druids, wrapped in cloaks and counterspells were beginning to feel it. Daydancer could feel it pressing against the magical barrier Moon’s Omen had placed around her. Soon it would break the barrier and begin its work on her too.
Of them who waited for the new world to begin, only Barsabas was untouched by the note’s power. He could feel it on the periphery of his mind, testing him then withdrawing. And then… there was something else. Something familiar.
His head shot up and to the side, cocked like a dog listening to a high pitched whistle. Bone ground against bone as he did so. The blue darts of light in his eye sockets shone brighter. It had been revealed. It was close.
Defiler, his voice rumbled. He started for It, following the disturbance It left in the natural world.
Applejack had never liked hospitals. They were cold, white sterile things. All that came to mind in a hospital were bad memories. Memories of when Granny Smith went into surgery to have her hip replaced. She remembered bouncing on her knee an Apple Bloom too young to understand what was going on.
The cold air ruffled her mane. She would always take her hat off when entering a hospital. It seemed disrespectful otherwise.
“Ms Applejack?” came a voice. The mare looked up from her musings. An amber unicorn in a lab coat was walking towards her, a clipboard hovering beside him, sheathed in a dark blue aura. “You came in with Ms Dash, correct?”
“I sure did. Is Rainbow okay?”
The doctor’s expression darkened slightly. “It’s hard to say right now. We stopped the bleeding and disinfected the wounds. We also had to set her leg – you know how fragile pegasus bones are. But… I’ve never seen something like this, to be honest. Minour second-degree burns around the bite marks… And the wounds themselves have an odd tinge to them, like there was some kind of venom.” He shrugged. “It’s very peculiar.”
“Well can I go in an’ see her?”
“She’s resting now, b-” The doctor cut off as he grimaced in pain and put a hoof to his head. He moaned in pain. The clipboard struck the floor with a clang.
“Is somethin’ wrong?” Applejack asked, jumping up.
As quickly as it has come over him, it passed. He blinked, still holding his head. “You… you didn’t hear that?”
“Hear what?”
He shook his head. “I… never mind, just a sudden migraine. She’s asleep now, but you can go on in. Just don’t disturb her. Room 12, just down the hall there.”
The doctor continued on, still shaking his head. Applejack made her way down to Room 12, the incident with the doctor passing from her mind.
Nothing. Nothing was a very odd thing to feel when direwolves were devouring your body. Twilight peeked an eye open. The forest was still dark, but afterimages hung in the air, much like the one that appeared when she banished the first shadow wolf. The stabbing pain of the noise was gone as well.
Standing on unsteady legs, the mare looked around, searching for whatever had stopped the noise and saved her. A shining white creature slowly shambled towards her. It had wings on its back, tattered and charred. A long horn grew from its forehead. Its face – no its entire body – was lean and haggard. Deep in its eye sockets, a dull orange light shone.
“An alicorn,” she breathed.
“After all these years,” the alicorn rasped, his voice almost too quiet to hear. “After all these years, somepony touched by Providence has come. Sky Above, never have I been happier to see a face, a friendly one and not a banshee of guilt.”
He came up to her, gazing down at her with those defeated, barren eyes. “A thousand thousand years I have slept, not a restful night during any of those. Now, my time for the eternal sleep is here, and I can wash myself in the great river to cleanse my sins.”
“Who are you?” Twilight asked, voice full of wonder.
“A name? Have I need of a name? ’Tis been millennia since I had need of a name. Of the wails of names in my head, the one that stands out the most is Stypticus. That must be my name. If not my life-name, my death-name it shall be.”
“Providence… Sky Above… eternal sleep – You’re talking about the ancient alicorn religion!”
“It pains me to think on this, but all things must pass. Indeed, I speak of that. But time, time is a predator. It hunts us. We are but cattle to it. We must quicken, there is much to be said. I did not place this simulacrum of myself here to prattle like an old maid.”
“Wait – how did I get here?” Twilight rubbed her head, trying to dredge up the memories. Only wisps came
(–gur– the hole–)
fragments
(–like a charnel house down here–)
of what happened.
Stipticus frowned, his jaw muscles standing in stark relief on his shallow cheeks. “Though time we are limited in, the tale of your passage will be related.”
You left Bastion, following the oracle Augur. The pace was quick, the run tiring. You and the other, the gypsy-witch Beatrice Lulamoon, you traded off in casting spells to restore your stamina. As you neared the Giants’ Spire, the air grew chill. The sound of death echoed in your minds, harsher and more deafening than before.
As you enter Allophylus, you felt surprise and admiration. The ruins of the Giants were more beautiful and imposing than you expected. The shadow of the Giants’ Spire soon consumed you.
Augur followed the spoor of the witch-doctor, deep into the ruins, very near to the Spire. A great hole you saw there, one that seemed infinite.
“They must have gone down here,” he said, and looked over at you. “Can you levitate us down?”
You shook your head. “Keeping our stamina up’s exhausted me. I don’t know any good levitation spells for a group anyway.”
Lulamoon shook her head. “I don’t know any either.”
Augur circled the hole. The edge began to crumble, though none of you noticed at the time. “We have to get down there. We need to find out how they got down safely.”
“A lift of some sort?” the gypsy-witch suggested.
“No doubt.” The edge crumbled more, the piece of land the oracle stood on beginning to crack.
“Augur!” you cried. “The hole – it’s – ”
It was too late. The edge gave, and he went tumbling down. The cracks spread, too quick to avoid and the ground fell from beneath your feet.
Down and down you went, until you struck ground. It hurt, though you were puzzled as to how you survived. Picking yourself up, you saw the floor was engraved with runes – our runes, an enchantment of slowfall. Even in death we protected you.
You saw Lulamoon being helped up by Augur. “You made it safe too,” he said. “What luck… I think I found a way deeper over here.”
There is nothing else you could do. You followed him, deeper into the catacombs. The deeper you went, the more grisly the place grew. Shattered bones, ancient skeletons of alicorns and the Giants were strewn everywhere. You shuddered when you heard the snap of bones underneath your hooves.
As it grew darker, Augur created a flame to guide you, though you wished he hadn’t. It showed you the full extent of the carnage left here millennia ago.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, you reached here. My chamber.
“When you entered, my enchantments placed a sleep spell on you, so that I may speak to you.”
“I remember now,” Twilight said lowly. “There was an amber statue of an alicorn.”
“Yes. A punishment, atonement for what I did in years past.” He looked away from her. “As I said, time is a predator and it creeps yet closer to us. You must know the past of the Giants and their Spire, and the destruction of their people and Allophylus.
“Long ago, the alicorns roamed the world searching for a home. We came here, and found the Giants. We tried to make peace with them, but they desired something we could not do. Lanky and bestial, with fangs that could rip a pony like you to shreds. Taller still than an alicorn, it would take two alicorns standing atop each other to even reach their neck.
“They had a lofty ambition: Grant the gift of magic to the world. Magic was already in the world, but only those who could properly focus it could use it. With their plans, the Spire would spread its magic like snow on the ground. All peoples would know how to use magic.
“But we learned something in those days. Magic was dangerous when loosed with no focus. We held a moot and decided to stop the Spire from being activated.
“Alas, the damage had been done already. A Giant named Barsabas; a necromancer of great power had begun to spread his gift of magic among the lesser Giants. When he had enough followers, he sacrificed them, including his lover, in a dark ritual.
“The war, if one could call it such, was a short and bloody affair. Our greatest sorcerers changed the runes at the top of the Spire, changing its purpose. I activated the Spire. All who lived here were wiped out in an instant. Why I was spared is a mystery I pondered over the years.
“I felt the horror of what I had done, felt the screaming voices of those I murdered in my head. My penance started with changing the runes yet again. As my final act, I froze myself in the amber, so that I may never cause the death of another.”
Twilight stared at him, mouth agape. She had heard every word of his story, but it wasn’t sinking in. Some part of her refused to believe, refused to accept the concept that an alicorn such as he could be in wrong.
When he saw her, frozen there, he continued. “You must do something for me. When you reach the ritual chamber, seize the phylactery of darkness. Follow the Emerald Path! Follow it to the end!”
The mare barely understood what he wanted her to do. The words were familiar but nothing she had no idea how they fit into the alicorn’s plan.
A dark shadow rose above Stipticus, easily double his size. A skeletal arm ending in great claws shot from the shadow, seizing the horn of the alicorn. Stipticus struggled, but another clawed arm held him down. With a quick pull, the creature snapped the horn off.
A bright flash blinded Twilight, and sent her flying. When she opened her eyes, she was in a circular room made of stone. Arcane symbols and pictographs were scrawled in the walls and floor. In the centre, where Stipticus had been was a mass of amber shards, and a towering beast made of bone.
The bonewalker stood easily twelve feet tall, a comically shaped beast head on the body of a minotaur. Its long ape-like arms ended in claws like a dragon’s. Though Twilight had never seen it before, she knew its name.
Barsabas the Giant.
A jar. That was what Daydancer saw when she awoke from a terrified sleep for what seemed the hundredth time. Reflecting prismatically on her face, it hovered above her. A slithering, shimmering light writhed in the jar.
She did not know what it was, but she felt a fear deep inside her. An instinctual fear, like some sort of ancestral memory being dredged up.
“Your moment of glory is here,” Moon’s Omen hissed. “Are you ready to take hold of it, dear?”
She struggled against her bonds to no avail.
“Stop that! Stop it!” The old druid was trembling with rage. “This is an honour! Through your sacrifice, you give the rest of the world new hope! Stop!”
Daydancer looked at him, panic in her eyes. “Hasn’t it occurred to you this may be a bad idea? Ponies could die ! You don’t know what you’re tampering with!”
“I do know! I’m fixing a mistake!”
There was a disturbing madness in his face. He jerked around in spasms of rage, his hood slipping from his head. She saw his face, his horn, she knew now he was Allie Horn.
“Allie ?”
The unicorn grabbed his hood and covered himself again. “You don’t understand. All I want is to help you. All of you. We were all born under a curse. You were cursed with spiritual blindness; I was cursed with magic. The world needs to be even! All of us, equals! No one pony shall rise above another!” The phylactery hovered over Daydancer’s face, dangerously close to her eye.
Barsabas the Giant raised the horn as though he were a worshiper offering his god a gift. Then, he brought the root of the horn slamming down on his skull. The skull and the horn cracked, then they seemed to melt into one another, the horn melding with the skull. Soon, they were one, the horn jutting from his forehead as though it always belonged there.
Twilight struggled to her feet. The Giant noticed her for the first time. Thou follow the spawn of murderers. No quarter shall be given thee.
She barely had time to react when the necromancer lifted one arm and casually flicked his wrist. She quickly put up a barrier spell. His magic, almost invisible but for a mirage-like shimmer. With the precious few seconds the barrier bought, she weaved a counterspell. The air shimmered with a faint purple glow, the glow slowly forcing the colourless glow of the Giant’s spell back towards him.
A duel between sorcerers such as this was an once-in-a-lifetime sight. And there was nopony awake to bear witness.
The glow around the phylactery vanished as the keening note began again, splitting Daydancer’s head open. She gritted her teeth, and the phylactery bounced off her lower parts and rolled between her legs.
“No! Stop!” the druid cried to some invisible force. “I’m doing as you asked! Stop!”
Like it was responding to his voice, the sound stopped, leaving only a memory and pain behind.
“Who are you talking to?” the mare asked.
“Who? Who? Isn’t it obvious?” He turned towards her, purple eyes glowing with a pale light. “Him! The Vulture-Changer who whispers madness! You don’t hear him?”
The unicorn had gone quite mad, Daydancer decided. She could feel Augur nearby though, coming ever closer. The longer she kept him raving, the longer Augur had to save her. “No, I don’t hear them. Who are they?”
He grimaced, spittle frothing at the edges of his mouth. “I know what you’re trying to do, you stupid nag. You don’t think I can fee-”
A blue bolt of energy struck him in the side of the head and he was knocked off his feet, crashing into a nearby pillar. Daydancer felt her head beginning to swim, and before she blacked out, she saw a blue unicorn and Augur rush to her side.
Twilight slid back slightly, dust kicked up by the friction between her hooves and the stone floor. The rippling effects of the magic forces colliding filled the space between her and the Giant. Sweat was pouring down her back, and her veins stood out on her face. She was already tiring, but the lich showed no signs of anything. She doubted he would ever tire.
The very concept of a wizard duel was one of finesse, not raw power. Whoever could weave a spell more subtly than the other. Whoever could slowly chip away at the other’s stamina. But when one party had such an advantage, the sleeplessness of the dead, there was only one way it could ever turn out.
She would lose. And she knew it. Still she fought, pouring her strength, to delay the Giant just one minute, one second longer.
Once Trixie had opened the restraints keeping Daydancer bound to the altar, the oracle scooped her up, placing her gently on the floor. Her leg caught the phylactery, and sent it rolling away. It slipped past his sight.
“You should get that,” he said to the magician. “We can’t let it fall back into Moon’s Omen’s hooves.”
“Maybe we should just destroy it,” Trixie mused, levitating the phylactery. Her reflection showed on the glass, and she stared into the twisting lights, as though she were hypnotised.
Trixie clasped her hooves to her head as that piercing, strange wail sounded again. Lost in her pain, she failed to notice the phylactery drop to the ground again and roll across the floor to where Moon’s Omen lay.
Twilight gritted her teeth as the cacophony rose in her mind. She could feel the enamel grinding away as she stood her ground against the barrage of noise and magic. Through the wall of sound she could hear her hooves scrape the ground as she slid back further.
The sound reached a sudden crescendo, and the Giant swung his head to the side, like some massive decayed dog listening to a whistle. He lowered his arm, the shimmer of his magic fading. Twilight’s magic struck the side of his naked ribs, blowing through his tattered robes and pounding his bones beneath to dust. He blurred, his form going out of focus, seeming to fold in on himself.
A sharp crack! cut the keening noise off, though it still rang in Trixie’s ears. Woozy, she slowly lifted herself up off the ground, head spinning. She fought back a sudden urge to vomit. Forcing her eyes to focus she saw the one thing she didn’t want to see.
Moon’s Omen, one hoof in the glass splinters of the phylactery, the rusted metal ends on either side.
Then, with a banshee’s wail, echoes by a million voices, all hell broke loose.
The skies over the Necropolis darkened. Thunder rolled across the plains of the Hinterlands. Lightning cracked, bolts branching off and striking the pinnacle of the Spire. From the yawning chasms below, sickly green witch-fire emerged, casting its eerie light on the surroundings.
In Bastion, the brewing storm did not go unnoticed. The able-bodied townfolk rushed about, nailing boards to windows, strapping things down. A few thoughtful ponies moved the gypsy wagon to a stable for shelter. The air grew oppressive and thick. It felt as though you were drinking the air and not breathing it.
Old-timers sat in their chairs, peering out from under their wide-brimmed hats at the growing storm. One of them, after spitting his tobacky into a pail, said he’d not seen a storm such as that since ’83. Another argued that the storm of ’95 was worse, while yet another said his grandmammy saw the worst storm of them all way back in aught-eight.
If breathing the air was difficult doing simple tasks like the ponies in Bastion were doing, breathing while under physical duress – say, running for your life with somepony on your back – was quite harder. This was the dilemma Applejack faced. The sudden change in weather conditions was enough to make her pause, but the added burden of Rainbow Dash added a whole new, doubly wearying factor.
And then there were the direwolves, howling behind them. They were getting ever closer, their loping, tireless gait catching up to the pony’s tiring gallop.
Applejack looked back over her shoulder to see if she could catch a glimpse of the direwolves. She could see their faint silhouettes on the horizon, approaching fast. Her hoof caught on something –
–for an instant she was weightless, this is what it’s like to fly–
– she saw Rainbow tumble head over hooves –
– the ground was coming up fast –
– oh Celestia the rocks –
– and then nothing at all.
For what seemed like the hundredth time, Trixie covered her ears with her hooves trying oh so desperately to block out the unearthly noise that was all around. The screams of tormented souls, finally released from their anguish filled the chamber. Multicoloured streaks of light tore through the room, burning scores into the pillars and walls, punching holes in the ceiling and floor. Worst of all were the ones that just hovered in the air pathetically, emitting a high-pitched squeal.
The air thickened near Trixie, and an indistinct shape took form, black and grey and white. Gooseflesh appeared on her skin, and in her mind she could hear the voice of her mother: “Get away! Beatrice, don’t stand near it! Go!” She broke into a run, sliding on the slick obsidian floor.
Barsabas had arrived. His great cloak reduced to tatters by Twilight’s lucky strike, bones shattered. Those baleful blue eyes were dimming, losing light as the souls escaped.
Treachery.
“You call it treachery,” Moon’s Omen said, hooves crushing the glass further. “I call it rebirth. From the ashes of your life is birthed a phoenix of magic, her fire sweeping the world. You and I are detritus, to be destroyed when the new world is forged. I am humble enough to know my place in the King’s plan, what of you?”
I serve no King, the lich growled, taking an unsteady step forward. His legs were beginning to crumble, cracks already forming from the stress of holding up his form. Thou mayest sware obedience to the King of the Black Throne to save him from the flames of Tartarus, but I hath made no oath with he. Mine oath is with the Changer and him alone.
“The Changer?” the druid barked with a laugh. “You’ve lived lifetimes longer than any pony, any alicorn, and yet you do not know never to take a demon at its word?”
Irrelevant. Seize thy tongue, maggot-breeder. There is but one care in my heart. The alicorn harlots will burn. What the Changer does is his business and his alone.
“Then he bollixed you well, bonewalker. He made the selfsame offer to me.”
The Giant froze, doubt spreading in his mind for the first time. Were he not in his dark reverie, he would have noticed what came next.
A burst of pure force struck Barsabas, splintering his pelvis. As his leg bones clattered to the floor, he cast a quick levitation spell, dodging another burst of force. Raising an arm, he began drawing electricity into his palm. The ball of electricity suddenly jumped, and he cracked it like a whip, an arc of lightning spiraling towards the druid.
Trixie’s eyes met Augur’s. Without a word, they made a covert exit, leaving the sorcerers to their duel.
Wet snarls and barks of rage woke Applejack, blinking bleary eyes. She felt a cold hardness underneath her. Metal. She rose quickly and regretted it immediately, banging her head on the top of a pipe.
“Where in the name of custard pie am I?”
“Some culvert outside of town,” came Rainbow’s voice, breathless and raspy. “You got banged up pretty bad when you hit the ground. I managed to fly a bit before I got woozy. Dragged you in here before the wolf pack showed up. They know we’re here, I think. Just not where.”
Applejack propped herself up into a sitting position, putting her back up to the culvert wall. She rubbed a sore spot on her head, and her hoof came back sticky with blood. She looked down at her legs, green eyes watery.
“Hey, AJ. What’s wrong?”
“I’m thinkin’ ’bout Big Mac and Apple Bloom,” she said softly, voice cracking. “They sure don’t know where I am right now. They still think I’m in Canterlot, livin’ it up with the princesses an’ eatin’ fancy foods an’ bein’ a regular city-slicker. But I ain’t. I’m here, in a ditch. I just won’t come home. They’ll be waitin’ for me, waitin’ for a train that ain’t comin’.”
There was a silence. Rainbow looked away as Applejack shed her silent tears. “Hey… You know what I’m thinking about?” she asked, attempting a smile and failing. “I’m thinking about Tank, of all things. He’s up there, alone in my cloud. Just doin’ things for the sake of doing things, being a turtle. Wobbling around, being old. But you know what? I’m not getting sad about not seeing him again. Because I know I’m gonna see him again. And you’re gonna see Big Mac, and Apple Bloom, and your Granny Smith again. You know why?
“We’re the Elements of Harmony. We beat Nightmare Moon. We kicked Discord’s flank. We fought an army of changelings. What’s a couple mutts to us?”
Applejack smiled slightly, a tear still running down her cheek. “I didn’t quite think about that way. You’re right, Rainbow. We can do anythin’ as a team.”
“We’re the greatest team. Team Appledash.” The earth pony shot a glare at Rainbow. “Okay yeah bad name.”
There was a pause. Applejack looked out into the open fields, at the direwolves digging at the ground looking for them.
“What d’ya think, Rainbow? Ready fer one last stand?”
“I’m always ready.”
With one last hoofbump, the two friends stepped out into the light.
The Giant’s Spire was built for the pressure of focused energies and not the raging maelstrom of soul energy now loosed in it.
The supports, worn down by age and the ancient battle, were crumbling as the tormented souls expired against them. The deep roots of the Spire, spreading throughout the Necropolis, were writhing with witch-fire. The fire ate away at them, the dripping slag vaporising before it even left the nimbus of the fire.
It was only a matter of time before the whole thing came crashing down.
The green witch-fire was spreading throughout the Spire, funneling towards the middle. Twilight followed the trailing fingers. “Follow the emerald path,” Stipticus had said. The witch-fire was green and it was circling the Spire like water in a drain. She ran and ran, the clop of her hooves ringing out in the empty hallways. She would reach the top.
She had to.
Trixie paused, a voice in the back of her head telling her to stop. She froze, staring down at the battle below. She inched her way closer to the edge of the balcony.
Below, the lich and the unicorn were casting spells at each other. Bolts of lightning, whirling miasmas, gouts of flame, pillars of lava. The air seemed to be charged with magic. As she watched, Barsabas made a sparkling orb in his hand and crushed it. Then it appeared near Moon’s Omen.
Trixie frowned, trying to figure out what that spell was meant to do. With a piercing whistle, one of the errant souls shot towards the orb, striking the pillar next to the druid.
As she watched the debris shower on the druid as he prepared an ice spell, something triggered in her mind. A plan, fully-formed that just seemed to appear. But at the same time, she knew something else.
She couldn’t do it alone. She needed somepony with training, the skills to weave a high-level spell.
She needed Twilight Sparkle.
The earth shook, and in some places in the Necropolis gave way entirely. Massive chunks of soil and rock tumbled down into the infinite abyss. The ancient ruins, much of which was still unexplored and untouched by archaeologists, crumbled and gave way under the earth’s trembling.
The air grew ever thicker, the promise of a storm still unfulfilled.
The hallway opened up into a giant chamber, Twilight found. The green witchfire swirled up into the sky of the chamber and–
“Sparkle!” came a familiar voice. “Thank Celestia you’re alive!” Trixie came galloping up to her. “The lich and the druid are fighting down below! I have a plan.”
Twilight listened as the other mare outlined her plan. “It’s crazy, but I don’t see how we have any other choice.”
“We don’t,” Augur interrupted. “We need to go up. Stop what’s happening.”
“He’s right,” the gypsy said. “It’s now or never, Sparkle.”
Now or never, do or die, the clichés rushed through her head. She nodded, mouth set in a grim line.
This is the nature of spell-binding: Two sorcerers could cast different spells and a simultaneous binding spell. The binding spell was simple, so it was no hard task to cast it and wrap it around the spells.
The truly hard part was ensuring the two spells bound properly. A spell of ice and fire was possible, but the bonding process was volatile and dangerous. More than one wizard had met their end attempting such a thing. A spell of wind and earth was feasible, more so than ice and fire.
Trixie and Twilight were, for the first time in their lives, attempting spell-binding. They felt the risks were very much outweighed by the benefits. It helped that the two spells they were binding were both fairly simple and not as dangerous.
Twilight cast a spell of wind – a tornado, to be precise. Dark clouds were brought into existence, swirling above the battlegrounds at the high ceiling. They slowly began to move swifter.
Trixie cast the same spell she had seen the Giant cast. A twinkling charm, strangely irresistible to the flying souls. Perhaps some part of the tormented souls saw it as a way to end their torment? Or maybe as a way to cross to the next life? Whatever the reason, she had figured the basics of the spell from the energies that had swirled around the Giant.
The maelstrom spun faster and faster. The twinkling glamour shone in the eye of the storm, beckoning the souls to it. The glowing balls of wailing souls sped towards the charm, looking for whatever solace it offered.
The maelstrom formed into a full-fledged tornado, driving the souls downward. From there, there was only one thing that could happen.
Destruction.
Green. Augur felt as though green, the colour itself was calling him. The witch-fires snaked through a passageway, and he felt drawn towards it. They seemed to be whispering his name, not his druid-name, his birth-name.
“Augur?” Daydancer asked, her voice husky. “What are you doing?”
“I’m…” He didn’t know what he was doing. He blinked, the afterimages of the witch-fires flashing in his retinas.
The entire Spire seemed to shake as the sound of an explosion echoed. The sudden quake knocked Augur off his feet, head slamming into the wall. There was a brief period of blackness, then the stallion shook himself awake. Stars flashed before his eyes. Through them, he could see the witch-fires, still burning.
“Augur?” That was Daydancer’s voice, but it seemed oh-so far away. Bells seemed to chime in his ears. “Augur, please, get up!”
Augur tried to rise, his legs unsteady. His head exploded with a new universe of pain, stomach beginning to rebel. He fought his pain, and stood, still wobbling. His balance gave way, and he felt himself pitching back towards the ground. Before he could strike it, Daydancer rushed to his side and gave him support.
He leaned on her, shifting his body weight fully to her. “I seem to be quite a mess,” he slurred.
“We both are. How are we going to get out of here?”
Augur winced, the stars and trails of witch-fire still burning in his eyes. “The emerald path. The witch-fires. They’ll lead us to where we need to go.”
“Follow the witch-fires, alright…” She didn’t sound convinced. She didn’t need to; she just needed to carry Augur to where the fires kissed. He knew, deep down inside that was where he was meant to be.
It went unnoticed in the chaos of the falling Spire, but something curious occurred to Augur as he was carried down the hallway: His ear twitched. There was a sharp pain behind his eye. Even if he had noticed, he would have shook it off as side-effects from his injuries.
The emerald path, follow the emerald path! The voice of Stipticus rang in Twilight’s head. She was, she was! With Trixie alongside, she was racing down the crumbling halls of the Spire, following a nautilus shell of corridors, up to an enigma. The witch-fires burned ever so brightly, swirling as they laid their path for the ponies to follow.
Up and up and up they went, never seeming to tire. From below, the sounds of stones cracking echoed up. The Spire could not last much longer.
Finally, after what seemed an exhausting eternity of running, they came to where the witch-fires kissed, a bright green flame arcing upwards, out of sight. The sloping walkway exited into a large circular chamber not unlike the one they had destroyed a short time before. Across the room was another sloping walkway, much like the one they had emerged from. The ceiling stretched into oblivion, lit only by the pillar of witch-fire. Four towering pillars supported the ceiling, shaped like black daggers.
“Now what, Sparkle? We’ve come as far up as we can and we’ve nothing to show for it.”
Twilight stared up at the fire pillar, eyes wide, disbelieving. She couldn’t be wrong; Stipticus had told her. She was the one who was going to atone; she had to be. Why weren’t the fires showing her the way? Why was she now forsaken?
The scuffle of hoofsteps and a low moan interrupted her thought process. From the other ramp came Daydancer, propping up a battered Augur. All of a sudden, Augur opened his eyes, and took an unstable step forward.
“The fires!” he breathed. “Yes, yes, I know what to do.”
“You do?” Twilight asked sharply. Some part of her felt jealousy at the stallion knowing what she did not.
Augur stood on his hind legs and propped himself up against a pillar and stared at Twilight Sparkle. “I do know. It’s fate. My fate and nopony else’s. I know now… My life has prepared me for this.”
His ear twitched.
His right eye had a sharp pain.
There was a sudden hot flash of pain in his side. He blinked, feeling a cool breeze blow through him somehow. He felt the world spin, go black. As his face hit the floor, he saw the ragged form of his ex-leader, horn aglow with foul magic.
A thought, a mad thought flashed through his head as he faded. Is it my turn to be the griffin, Clover Bell?
Then all was darkness.
The violet bolt struck Augur in the side, going clean through. The fortune-teller made a sickly cough, and fell forward, hitting the floor with a sickening thud.
“Augur!” cried Daydancer, rushing to his side. She knelt down in a panic.
Trixie bit back a curse, as she turned to see Moon’s Omen emerge from a passageway. The twisting architecture made it hard to see things, but she still felt angry she had missed it.
The druid was haggard, cloak burnt, and in some places fused to his skin. His coat was burned completely off in places, leaving black skin. “You ruined it! The perfect world, our perfect world… Where everypony would be equals…”
“Everypony’s already equals,” Twilight said. “We may not all have magic, or be able to fly, or be able to harvest the perfect yield of crops. But we all have special talents that make up for what we can’t do but others can.”
“Spare me the friendship babble,” he spat. A low rumble and a sharp crack underlined his words. “I never wanted this to happen, but you’ve left me no choice.” He lowered his horn, crackles of deep purple energy surrounding it.
A resounding boom echoed through the chamber, and chunks of obsidian came crashing down from the ceiling. A large piece struck Moon’s Omen, crushing him and breaking through the floor. The floor began to crack, the fingers reaching out to the ponies. Before they could react the floor broke apart with a loud snap! They were falling, head over hooves, fate in the arms of gravity.
(Galloping Guardian, awaken. Your time is not up.)
His eyes opened, slowly. All he could see was red. Blood. His blood. His side ached. Far-off, he could hear thunder, and rain hammering down. “Who… how do you know my name?” he gasped, pain stabbing through his side with each syllable.
(I know much about you, Guardian, though you know little of me.) Daydancer stepped out from behind the pillar he was laying against, her form gauzy and her smile beatific. She seemed to glow from within. (You abandoned one destiny for this, the destiny of being a great warrior, servant to the Princesses. Why?)
He shook his head, feeling his essence ooze from his side. He knew he had little time, and he wondered why Daydancer was asking him such questions. “If you know so much about me, why not say it for both of us?” He coughed, feeling wetness come out of his throat.
(Your friend, when she died. You felt as though you failed her.) She came close to him, and stroked his cheek with a hoof. He felt only a strange tingle like static from a balloon. (How could you fail somepony who’s life had already been written? She died there, her life for yours. You augured for many a pony, why forget you the ways of balance? Of Purpose and Reason? Truly, you desired to escape the future writ in your mark. But you never could.
(Even as you cast lots, you followed your fate. Even now you follow it. This is why I know you will take the final step, and fulfill that which is writ in the Thread of Fates.)
He stared at her, haggard eyes full of amazement. “Who are you?”
(Call me a pony of Purpose. Call me Daydancer. Call me mother. As all of these, as any of these, I beg you. Fulfill your fate, and save she you care about.)
Augur… Galloping Guardian stared down at his hooves, ruffled and singed, for a long time. Then, “What do you want me to do?”
(Simply follow me.)
The ground came rushing up at Twilight. Her head spun and her stomach rebelled as she tumbled head over hooves. A violet corona shone around her horn, and she struck the bottom of the Spire. The impact hurt, but her quick cast of slow fall had helped greatly.
She still felt the impact deep inside her, resonating in her very bones. Bleary-eyed, she rose. Glancing upwards, she found that she’d fallen quite a longer distance that she had thought at first. Somewhere up there, hundreds and hundreds of feet up was the faint shimmer of witch-fire. If she had somehow survived the fall, could–
Yes, they could have. She saw now that Trixie and Daydancer had survived the long fall as well, and were picking themselves up slowly. An earthquake shook the tower, sending a rain of rubble down.
“Sparkle,” Trixie cried, voice almost lost in the crash of stone. “We need to move!” She waved at Twilight, gesturing wildly to a curving passageway. Twilight waved back to her, and she gathered Daydancer and began running down the passage to places unknown.
With one final glance upwards, Twilight Sparkle broke into a run, following the gypsy and the druid.
Moon’s Omen – no, Allie Horn, he had always been Allie Horn – woke, for the last time. He felt nothing, but a greater deal of nothing past his midsection. He strained his neck around as far as it would go, and found a great black chunk of rock consuming his lower half.
Allie slumped to the ground, the cold kiss only reminding him of his rapidly dwindling life. His ragged breath, growing ever longer between gulps, fogged his glassy black reflection. He became aware, however distantly, that wine – no blood – was pooling beneath him.
Robotically, he began to run his shaky hooves through the pool, forming a strange sigil. The pool coagulated and shifted, forming a fleshy mound. A slit bisected the mound, yellowed teeth and quivering cilia probing outwards.
Allie closed his eyes, a sob of pain wracking his body. “With this blood I free you,” he spat through bubbles of blood. “Use me to rain destruction upon your enemies.”
“Acc-s-s-septible,” hissed a voice from deep within the mound of flesh. The cilia extended to caress the unicorn’s body, sliding down, under the rock. The mound itself quivered, drawing itself over the unicorn, bringing his body into the gaping cavity.
Allie let out a gasp, and then-
Silence.
Galloping took another unsteady step, the pain in his side a white-hot blaze with ever rise and fall of his hooves. He could control the pain better when he was talking, so he tried his best to keep a conversation going with the ethereal figure helping him through the passage.
“Why her?” he asked through a sharp intake of air. “Why did you come as Daydancer?”
(I had many choices. I could have come as your mother.) Daydancer’s figure was replaced by that of a pastel green unicorn with a modest manecut. There was no transition, she simply changed in a heartbeat. (Else I could have been somepony you have fond memories of.) She was Clover Bell, not a filly anymore but a full-grown mare, heartbreaking in her beauty. Then she was gone, like tears in the rain, replaced by Daydancer once more. (Is this not better? Would you rather I be somepony who brings back bad memories, or one you care for?)
“Care for?”
(Oh, you care not for her? Why then did you plot to run away with her? Why then did you rush to her house when trouble began? You care more than you realise. If the world were more perfect, more fair, you would have time. Je regrette.)
Galloping was silent for a long while, the rhythm of walking tearing him apart. At last he spoke. “You know much of me. How is this? Are you a god?”
She laughed, a clear musical chime. (Goodness, no. As I said, I am a creature of Purpose. I serve the Creator in all things. I guide those with Purpose through their lives, ensure they fulfill it. Purpose and Reason guide all things, under the Creator’s eye.)
“Purpose. Fate. I never had a single choice in my life.”
(You always had choice. Had you not chosen to play at the quarry, you would be an artist like you dreamed. Had you not gone out that rainy day, you never would have found the druid’s book. Had you decided the book was fantasy, your life would have continued in a different path.)
(What you never had choice in was your Purpose. In all the worlds, in all the realms of existence, there is only one you. There is only one Spire. There is only one Barsabas. There is only one Bastion. You were made for the Spire, as the Spire was made for you.)
(What happened in your life, what truly mattered you had choice over. You impacted lives, helped people through their sorrows. You were a helping hoof, a comforting shoulder, a listening ear. You were respected, loved even. All because of choices you made, not the Purpose. All the Purpose did in your life was guide you here.)
(Purpose can be avoided. Had your decisions led you elsewhere, Purpose would have moved on, to find another pony to fill its needs. Every decision you made set you on a path. Whenever the path diverged, you kept to the path of Purpose. You only think you had no choice in life because you are too close to life to see.)
Galloping had nothing to say anymore. There was nothing to be said.
They walked on in silence, hoofsteps echoing in the empty passages. The witch-fires swirled around their legs, still being swept away to some unknown place. The distant rumble and cracks of the Spire slowly collapsing was lost to them.
Finally, Daydancer slowed. (We are here. Your fate lies beyond these doors, Galloping Guardian. Purpose has aided you in your darkest hour. Do not forget us.)
She began to fade, his weight shifting dangerously off-balance as she disappeared. “No wait!” he cried. “What do I do? How do I fulfill my destiny if I don’t know how?”
Like the Cheshire of books old, Daydancer’s smile was the last to fade. (And here I thought you knew how to use a crystal ball.)
She was gone. He was alone. Galloping lowered his head and marched forlornly on, leaving behind a trail of blood on the floor. The doors before him opened of their own accord as he drew near, some magic still remaining to animate them.
He crossed the threshold, breaths coming in short, jagged gasps. When that beautiful angel of Purpose had guided him here, he knew he would not have long to last. Now here he was, on the final approach, frustratingly close. He pitched forward as his last burst of adrenalin rushed through his body.
He struck a black obelisk jutting from the floor. Arcane runes were scrawled in it, seeming to creep across the surface as he watched. In the centre of the artifact was a single great crystal, glowing colourlessly from within.
A crystal ball, the thought flickered through his mind. He forced his hooves, leaden with the weight of death, around the crystal. He stroked it as he would a dear pet, watching the pale light pulse in response to his touch.
A deep boom resounded somewhere, deep below the Spire. He heard it faintly as he slipped backwards, hooves leaving the crystal. He struck the blood-slick floor, the pain a dull thing in the back of his mind.
The world turned white. He floated.
Clover Bell was there; dear sweet Clover, her ragged boyish mane still as rosy as before. He was home.
The Spire crumbled. It seemed to happen in slow motion, cracking from the summit. The fragments collapsed inward, grinding each other to dust. The green fingers of witchfire reached for the sky. The ground itself was giving way, the yawning abyss swallowing the fragments.
When the dust settled, there was a black, strangely forlorn fissure where the Necropolis had been. The legacy of the Giants had been lost to the depths of the world. In time, even the memories of them would be lost.
Twilight stood at the edge, her gaze cast down upon the void. A quote about staring into the abyss too long floated into her mind.
“Sparkle!” came Trixie’s voice, sharp and panicky. “Get away from the edge! You of all ponies should know it isn’t stable.”
As she backed away, she saw something white float to the ground. Pausing, Twilight leaned to see what it was. Something wet touched her nose. The unicorn looked up to the sky in confusion.
It was snowing. Light flurries of snow whirled around the three mares, flecking their coats with a dusting of white. An emerald aurora glowed in the sky, casting its light on the flakes of snow.
“It’s beautiful,” Twilight whispered.
An unearthly shriek shattered the awed silence that had fallen. A shadow rose from the pit, a great carrion bird.
A lanky figure, bipedal with long limbs. Tattered bat-like wings wrapped around its body, a cloak to protect it from the chill. Its head was that of a vulture’s, beak grown over with flesh. Jagged shards of teeth jutted out from the protrusion at sick angles.
In the centre of its chest was a mound of pulsed flesh. A gash ran down its middle, and from that gash quivered a mass of slick cilia, grasping at the very air. Teeth like thorns ringed the gash.
The mares had no way of knowing, but Khaazad-Tûl had been birthed into the world of mortals. At long last the demon had broken the veil and escaped Tartarus.
“In the end
It’s never just the light you need
When balance slays the demon
You’ll find peace
In the end
It’s never just the dark you seek
When balance slays the demon
You’ll find peace”
- from “Balance Slays the Demon” by Poets of the Fall
Facing the unholy abomination rising from the pits of the earth, Trixie could think of only one thing to say: “Run!”
She broke off from the other two mares in a panic, legs moving of their accord. Her mind, though not weak, was unable to process the still-growing form of Khaazad-Tûl. The horror of confronting a demon even when prepared would break ponies stronger than her.
Stronger than… her.
Trixie skidded to a stop as that thought flittered through her head. No. She was strong. She was Trixie, great and powerful. She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t weak at all. She turned back to face the demon, face set in grim determination.
Khaazad-Tûl stepped forward, flakes of skin sloughing off his body. “S-s-so, little ponies-s-s want to s-s-stop me.” He raised a claw, foul green magic arcing around it as he prepared chaos magic. He snapped his wrist, the flinging the arc of magic at the ponies.
Twilight swung her head down, purple energy popping into existence around her horn. A small shield of the same hue appeared in the bolt’s path, intercepting it. The impact on the magical shield made her recoil a little.
Her heart beat rapidly, adrenalin making her unsteady on her hooves. A demon of Tartarus was no easy opponent, and the other times she’d faced creatures of this power she’d had her friends to help. Could she really banish it with the help of only a braggart illusionist and an earth pony who looked like she’d never had a hard day’s work?
She smiled. Of course she could.
Gathering energy in her horn, she started to strafe quickly around the demon. He followed her movements with his one eye that was not sealed by flesh. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Daydancer getting up, looking like she was ready to join the fight.
With a flash, she let loose with a burst of energy in the form of a beam, carving a path down the demon’s body. For a moment it looked as though she had succeeded – his body was slowly falling apart –
And then the halves melded back together. Twilight froze in astonishment. Books on demons were banned for the most part, and the ones she had read told nothing about this ability. In the back of her mind, she noticed he looked smaller than before. His regeneration must be affecting his body mass, she thought.
With enough damage dealt, the demon would have no mass to fall back on to regenerate, and his spirit would disintegrate on the winds and return to Tartarus. She smiled again at this knowledge. If she could just keep this pace up, they’d be done in no time –
Something struck her, sending her flying head over hooves. She had failed to notice him preparing more magic. Twilight laid there on her back, feeling as though there were a heavy weight on her chest. Wiggling her hooves, she tried to flip back over but the magic weight was too heavy. Maybe if she used her teleport spell to flip?
Magic crackled feebly around her horn. No use. Either the beam had tired her more than she thought, or the weight was blocking it.
Flapping his tattered wings, the demon flew up and landed next to Twilight. He leaned over her, and she saw for the first time how hideous and grotesque his features were. She could feel bile rising in her throat.
He raised a claw, razor sharp and dripping with some horrible substance. Before he could bring it down and end her, a blue burst of magic struck him, reducing one of his wings to cinder. He turned to face his new attacker.
Trixie. She stood there, ragged cape blowing in the breeze with a smug smile. “Behold the amazing magics of Tr-r-rixie!”
There was a flash of light, and smoke arose from where she stood. When the smoke cleared, three Trixies stood where the first had, each with that same frustrating expression. They broke apart, each running in a different direction.
Hissing, the demon leapt away from Twilight, head jerking around trying to follow the Trixies. They all skidded to a stop, and all began to charge mana in their horns. There was a loud crack and the three bolts of energy arced towards the demon. He dodged one, took one to the leg and another to the chest. Each punched a neat hole in his quivering flesh.
The demon roared in confusion, looking at the two holes that were filling with more flesh. Turning one of his limbs into a whip-like appendage, he flung it at one of the Trixies that had struck him. She tried to escape, but the tendril snaked around her leg and drew her close.
The appendage returned to his body, and it morphed back into a claw, clutching her by the throat. By the time he noticed the smug smirk returning to her face it was too late. She exploded in a flash of blue light. His body was greatly reduced by the explosion, bits of it spattering and sizzling on the snowy ground.
How could a magician skilled in illusions do such feats? Not easily. When the illusion of herself exploded, the other fake Trixie shimmered away, and the real Trixie collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily.
In the meantime, Twilight had gotten up. During the brief period the demon was regenerating from the explosion of pure magic, he had shifted his attention from her, dispelling the curse of burden.
“Daydancer! Do something!” she cried, looking in her direction.
“I can’t!” Her voice was shaky, full of panic. “I keep trying but nothing’s happening!” She stood, quivering and staring at a giant shard of the tower in front of her.
She had no magic left in her. Someone had activated the failsafe the alicorns had placed in the tower, Twilight realised.
That was bad.
Khaazad-Tûl made a gesture, and the skull of Barsabas appeared in his claw, broken and cracked from the collapse of the Obelisk. He ground it to powder, and took the horn the giant had stolen from the body of Stipticus. His flesh sizzled as he lifted the horn to his forehead and jammed it in root-first.
“His-s-s power is mine,” he rasped.
Then something curious happened. The sizzling that that gone along with his clutching of the horn began again. He clutched at the horn, which was slowly sinking into the flesh of his forehead.
“What is-s-s this-s-s?” Grabbing at it, he struggled mightily trying to dislodge it. With great effort, he ripped it from his skull, muscles standing out in his lanky limbs. He flung it aside, smoke rising from the hole.
The hole was not sealing. He hissed in anger. Somehow, the pure magic that still resided in the horn had reacted poorly to his black chaos magic. The demon resolved to finish this quickly, before the pure magic damaged him further
Morphing his arms into tentacles, he flung them at the two unicorns. Seizing them in his grasp, he drew them closer. They were struggling, writhing against the grasping appendages. His grip was too tight though – their efforts only wrapped them tighter in his grasp. As they drew close to him, he shifted the arms back to claws, clutching their throats.
Had he a proper mouth he would have smiled in anticipation.
“Rip you, fles-s-sh and bone,” he rasped. “Kill you s-s-slowly.”
The maw in the centre of his chest gaped open, jagged teeth probing the air. He slowly moved Twilight’s head towards it.
With a gout of black fluid, something white tore through the maw. It was pointed, forming an endless spiral.
The horn of Stipticus.
The demon loosed his grip on the two mares, allowing them to wiggle free. Smoke rose from where the horn pierced his middle. Pierced where he had drawn his link to this world, the madpony. He tried to speak, but only horrible gargles came out.
He slumped to the ground and fell on his face. His body began to disintegrate, flesh turning to ash.
Daydancer stood over his body, gasping for breath. Her coat was slick with sweat. She could hardly believe it. She had killed a demon without her magic. Just her mouth and quick thinking. Well, that and the horn.
“Good job,” panted Twilight. “You did it.”
“I – I did, didn’t I?” Daydancer’s voice was shaky but full of pride. She glanced up at where the Obelisk had once been. “But Augur… he didn’t.”
Twilight followed her gaze. “I don’t know. I think he might have.”
There was silence for a long while. The three mares sat or laid on the ground, recovering their strength.
At one point, Trixie spoke up. “Sparkle… Twilight.”
“Yes?” Twilight looked over at her, quizzically.
The showmare rubbed the back of her neck, bearing a sheepish expression. “Tri… I just wanted to say… Thank you. I couldn’t have done this on my own.”
“I’m… well, I’m happy to help, Trixie.” Twilight paused for a moment. “You know, you’re not as bad as I remember.”
“Neither are you,” Trixie said lowly at first. “Trix… uh, I expected you to be different. More like me.”
“I think we’re more alike than you think.” Twilight smiled at the other mare.
“Boy howdy,” came a familiar twang. “What happened here?”
Applejack and Rainbow Dash were sauntering slowly up to the battered ponies, supporting each other.
Trixie laughed. “Trixie only saved the world.”
Snow continued to fall, covering the world in white.
The trip back to town was thoroughly uneventful. When they arrived, Trixie had departed from the group to get her wagon out of hock, with only a few curt words towards Twilight.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten, Sparkle,” she had said. “One day I’ll come back and we’ll see who is truly the highest level unicorn!”
Twilight just waved at her, doubting the other magician would actually take the time to come back to Ponyville just to settle a grudge. She may have been a braggart and overly arrogant, but there was no way she felt that strongly towards Twilight.
Daydancer had elected to go to Canterlot with them. “There’s nothing for me here anymore,” she said softly.
“It’s not like we can stop ya, sugarcube.” Applejack smiled at her.
The other mare just returned her smile and disappeared for a while. When she returned, she bore a good deal of luggage. It took a bit of convincing to get the conductor to allow so much luggage aboard. Keeping room for his other passengers seemed to be at the front of his mind, regardless of the fact that the train had been sent special-order of Doctor Trotson, and that they were to be the only passengers.
Finally, Twilight had convinced him to drop the matter, promising him a good reward of bits at the end. She had no doubt the princess would pay the price.
So they departed. The dullness of the train ride was broken only by fitful sleep, dreams of fiery, slavering jaws or a quivering horror ending their rest prematurely.
Almost as soon as the train arrived at Canterlot, the mares were taken to the princess’s private chambers. Twilight was the most surprised – in all her years she’d rarely seen the inside of the princess’s quarters. Maybe only once at all.
She was not surprised to see that Celestia’s quarters were spartan for royalty. While other members of the royal family basked in elegant chambers with more frills than you could shake a pegasus at, Celestia simply had a basic room, albeit larger than the other quarters in the castle. The largest difference between hers and a servant’s was the absolutely massive bed Celestia owned. Twilight was fairly sure she and all her friends could fit snugly on the bed with room to spare which on second thought was a weird thing to think about.
Celestia stood in the middle of the bedchamber, and Doctor Trotson sat in a recliner beside her. The recliner looked out of place, meaning Trotson had likely moved it. He was puffing away at his pipe again, blowing smoke rings at regular intervals.
“My faithful student. Rainbow Dash. Applejack. And… I’m afraid I don’t know you.”
“Daydancer, milady.” Her voice was muffled from the red rug she had buried her muzzle in while bowing. Twilight and her friends had already stopped, being on much more intimate terms than the mare.
“Please stand, Daydancer. I don’t really care about such things in private.” Her soft, matronly voice now took on a harsh tone. “Now, I want to know what happened in the North.”
Slowly, they told her. Every once in a while, Daydancer would interrupt Twilight to tell her side of things, or else Applejack or Dash would. It took several hours to tell the Princess everything: The meeting with Trixie, the direwolf ambush. Daydancer’s foalnapping, the attack on the Giant’s Tooth. And, of course, the Demon.
“I can’t believe something like that exists,” Twilight said. “More evil than Nightmare Moon, more powerful than Discord, and more loathsome than Queen Chrysalis and her changelings. Knowing that something like that exists, and could break free into our world… I don’t know if I can get a good night’s rest again.”
The other mares nodded their agreement, especially Daydancer. She had been the closest to the demon when it passed, and its death had shaken her deeply. She could hardly think about the demon without feeling ill.
“Would it please you if I removed the demon from memory?” Celestia asked. This was a carefully calculated question. Tampering with somepony’s mind was a dangerous prospect, for both parties involved. But with knowledge of a demon comes a greater danger – the ability of a demon to slither in when the veils are weak.
Twilight looked at her friends and Daydancer. They all nodded, looking faintly sick, probably still thinking about the changeling-demon. Her eyes turned back to meet Celestia’s. “Yes. It’d please all of us.”
Celestia nodded. “Remain still then.” Her horn glowed with a bright power, and a mist seemed to appear from nowhere. The mist shone gold, then pink as the spell continued. Warmth filled the room, followed by cold. When the mist cleared, the mares blinked their eyes.
“Oh! Princess, when did we get here? I’m so sorry – I must have dozed off on my hooves. Or we all did,” Twilight added sheepishly. “I suppose you’ll want to know what happened on our expedition?”
With a beatific smile, the princess nodded.
“Well, it was very interesting. To begin with, the druids weren’t really druids at all, just a group of ponies interested in magic and its properties…”
When they left, Trotson shook his head. “I never thought I’d see the day when somepony asked for their memory to be wiped.”
“You’ve never had the misfortune to encounter a demon, or witness its aftermath,” Celestia said softly.
“True. True.” Trotson puffed thoughtfully. “I never have.”
There is not much left to tell of this story. Of Trixie and Twilight, we should know the ending to that story: they did indeed have a magic duel, and Trixie became a changed pony.
Daydancer moved to Ponyville, becoming the photographer of choice there. Needed glamour shots? Wedding photos? Or just a simple portrait? Call Daydancer.
She never thought of her days in Bastion, except on cold, starlit nights. She would gaze across the horizon, waiting for somepony. She didn’t know who. She just knew she was waiting for him.
And on these cold nights, she would feel like there was something important she was missing. But she could never put her hoof on it. It was happier this way.
This way, she didn’t have to remember.
