Myths and Birthrights

Chapters

Book One: Chapter Two: Out of the Wilds
Book One: Chapter Three: Goddess of the Stars
Book One: Chapter Four: The Party
Book One: Chapter Five: The Morning After
Book One: Chapter Six: Bound
Book One: Chapter Seven: Family
Book One: Chapter Eight: The Gala
Book One: Chapter Nine: Thornhaven
Book One: Chapter Ten: Medicine, Politics, and Faith
Book One: Chapter Eleven: The Bellerophon
Book One: Chapter Twelve: Troubled Waters
Book One: Chapter Thirteen: The Three Serpents
Book One: Chapter Fourteen: The Lost City
Book One: Chapter Sixteen: Beneath the Aurora
Book One: Chapter Seventeen: Sacrifice
Book One: Chapter Eighteen: Secrets and Discoveries
Book Two: Prologue
Book Two: Chapter One: The Brief Calm
Book Two: Chapter Two: Vestiges of Control
Book Two: Chapter Three: The Pleasures of Family
Book Two: Chapter Four: Lost Dreams
Book Two: Chapter Five: Wrath of the Gods
Book Two: Chapter Six: Lament for Fate
Book Two: Chapter Seven: The Broken Wish
Book Two: Chapter Eight: Royal Greetings
Book Two: Chapter Nine: The Demonstar
Book Two: Chapter Ten: Fears Aired
Book Two: Chapter Thirteen: The Song of Celestia
Book Two: Chapter Fifteen: The Duel
Book Two: Chapter Sixteen: The Lord of the Dead
Book Two: Chapter Seventeen: The City of Secrets
Book Two: Chapter Eighteen: Race Across the Savannah
Book Two: Chapter Nineteen: Sojourn of the Stars
Book Two: Chapter Twenty: Sheltering Light
Book Two: Chapter Twenty-One: The War of the Summer Sun; Fleur de Lis
Book Two: Chapter Twenty-Two: The War of the Summer Sun; Gilda and Rainbow
Book Two: Chapter Twenty-Three: The War of the Summer Sun; Sweetie Belle
Book Two: Chapter Twenty-Four: An Alicorn's Judgement
Book Two: Chapter Twenty-Five: The Titanomanchy
Book Two: Chapter Twenty-Six: Dreams
Book Two: Epilogue
Book One: Chapter One: The Last Normal Day
Book One: Chapter Fifteen: The Serpent's Lair
Book Two: Chapter Eleven: Sweetie Belle and the Tower of Lemarea
Book Two: Chapter Twelve: Hope
Book Two: Chapter Fourteen: Sweetie Belle and the Song of Death

Book One: Chapter Two: Out of the Wilds

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book One: Awakening and Arrivals
Chapter Two: Out of the Wilds

On the outskirts of Ponyville, there sits a home unlike any other within the town. It is an old building, predating the town by several decades. Originally, it had been used by the royal woodland rangers as an outpost from which they could venture forth to tend to the animals of Whitetail Wood. The rangers never ventured into the other nearby forest; the dreaded Everfree Forest.

From a distance, the old outpost looked like a grassy hill. Only the red painted windows and small chimneys gave away it’s true function. At the end of a paved path there sat a little green door. Inside it was filled with the pleasant smells of baked apples purchased from the nearby orchard hanging about the rafters and the wood used in the fireplace and oven.

A haven to any animal, be they small or large, fierce or timid, the old outpost was simply known as Fluttershy’s cottage to the townsfolk, so named for its present occupant.

Fluttershy was widely regarded as the most timid and kind of Ponyville’s residents. Indeed, she was in fact among the most gentle of beings on Ioka, with a compassion boundless in scope. This was most appropriate, as Fluttershy, a pegasus with a coat the colour of fresh butter, eyes blue as the summer sky, and a mane of soft, cascading pink, bore the Element of Kindness.

Tender moonlight slanted through the soft yellow curtains of the cottage, touching the bed sheets that hid the shivering young mare. The cottage itself was warm, the remnants of a fire glowing in the hearth, yet Fluttershy clutched her blanket tight beneath her chin.

Eyes squeezed shut, Fluttershy tossed and turned, muttering to herself as she dreamt. Around her bed perched several small birds. They had been awoken by her thrashing cries. Blue jays sat beside robins as they watched their caretaker moan. A few had tried to wake her but had been brushed aside by quick swipes of her hooves.

With a great clack the window was flung open, the curtains billowing in an unseasonably cool wind. Ruffling their feathers the birds all jumped to higher perches. Chirping amongst themselves, the birds watched as a light pink mist began to leak through the window, down the chimney, and beneath the door. The fire in the hearth died, sputtering in the mist’s cloying talons. Along the floor it crawled, pooling beneath Fluttershy’s bed before slowly climbing its way up a bedpost.

Snapping an angry call to the mist, a blue jay fluttered down to the mare and pecked her on the forehead. Fluttershy groaned softly, muttering a single word before knocking the jay aside.

Hades.

At the word the mist recoiled as if stung. It slipped back towards the windows, where it hovered for some minutes watching the eerie, shrouded forest that ran alongside the cottage. From deep within the forest echoed a sharp, hungry howl. Shivering, the mist darted out the windows, only to stop and flitter into the cottage once more. This went on for a few minutes more before the mist seemed to reach a definitive decision and coiled atop the bed.

The mist enshrouded Fluttershy, sliding over her sleeping form until she was completely engulfed. Again, the mist hesitated. It began to slink from her, allowing Fluttershy to roll onto her back and sigh; the mist creeping back down the legs of her bed as if ashamed. A second howl, much closer than the first, prompted the mist to shoot back up the bed. Refusing to hesitate again, the mist struck. Some flowed into Fluttershy through her nose and mouth while the rest formed a cloak around her, seeping into her like rain into dry earth.

As the last of the mist vanished, Fluttershy sat up in her bed, shifting and stretching her wings, throwing her covers aside, all while her eyes were closed.

The birds all shared concerned looks as, with a strong flap of her long wings, their caretaker launched herself out of the window. Landing next to the chicken pens, Fluttershy started walking towards the edge of the Everfree Forest. Flying out the window after Fluttershy, the birds heard her begin to sing as she walked.

The night of Spring has begun
Play and frolic, all ye young and old
A Goddess calls to dance with her song
Sheltered beneath the glorious leaves

Stretching out her wings with eyes still closed in dreams Fluttershy wavered from side to side, lifting her voice in an angelic refrain. Birds flitted about from branch to branch as she continued to sleepwalk and sing, each moment taking her deeper and deeper into the forest.

Mother Moon shines so bright among Sister Stars
Dance and spin, all ye young and brave
A Goddess guides to love with her song
Wander into the forests so bright

The nighttime sounds of the forest vanished beneath Fluttershy’s rising voice, her head tilting back as she sung. A few birds perched upon her back and wings, their voices added into her own in a melodious chorus.

Darkness kept me apart from the world
Yell and shout, all ye bold and strong
A Goddess freed from shadow by her song
Lift up your hearts to Alicornus so high

Her song grew low and sad as Fluttershy stepped into a small glade, stars twinkling high above. As she approached the center of the glade, dark shapes circled her; glowing yellow eyes watching her every move.

The night of Spring has begun
Gather and pray, all ye young and old
A Goddess calls to dance with her song
Sheltered beneath the glorious leaves

Letting out a little sigh of contentment, Fluttershy settled down in the center of the glade, a wing extended over a smallish form. Unaware of the journey she had just taken, Fluttershy continued to sleep as the moon sunk behind the distant mountains and the sun began to climb above the disc’s rim, ignorant of the wolf shaped forms creeping into the glade, and the even larger figure lording above them.

Near Fluttershy’s cottage there exists a narrow, well trod path leading into the heart of the Everfree Forest. If one were to travel down this path for a mile they'd come across the home of one of the most unique inhabitants of the forest, and perhaps all Equestria, the zebra shaman, Zecora.

Though formed inside a tree, similar to the Books and Branches Library, Zecora's hut was a much simpler, two room structure constructed inside an aged oak. The branches of the hut were heavy with vines and creepers, the air thick with fog, gloomy even in the brightest day. Very few ponies ever visited Zecora in her home, preferring to speak to her when she came to town for the supplies she couldn't gather in the forest. There were fewer still who braved the walk up to the small brown door past the masks from the zebra's homeland, most simply calling out to her from several steps away..

Secretly, Zecora enjoyed the arrangement.

She was always welcome in Ponyville, while maintaining the solitude and privacy to practice her craft without constant interruptions.

That morning, however, was not one of those interruption free days.

"Oops, sorry, Zecora," a young, soft yellow filly exclaimed with a hint of panic in her voice. Red mane flying about her head, the filly darted to a vase, yanked out its flowers, and raced back to where she had set a table on fire. Pouring the water in the vase on the small flames, the filly let out a sigh of relief.

Zecora watched with an ever growing look of horror.

"Dear Apple Bloom, you must learn to be careful soon. The plants you so carelessly tossed aside, need constant water or they shrivel and die."

Turning her head to where Zecora pointed, Apple Bloom watched aghast as the bright emerald stems and sapphire petals of the plants began to blacken and waste away before her eyes. After a few seconds only dead grey husks remained.

"I'm really sorry," Apple Bloom said in her southern drawl, her ears pressing back and chewing on her lower lip.

"Do not fret or fear, the Starthorn grows rather near. To gather the seeds we must depart, a simple trip to the forest’s heart."

Zecora gave Apple Bloom a reassuring smile as she grabbed a satchel from a peg beside the door.

"Come my apprentice, let's not tarry. For tonight we are invited to a party most merry."

Stepping out into the gloom, the zebra and her apprentice ignored the path, instead forging deeper towards the forest's heart. Their knowledge of the forest allowed them to pick their own path while still avoiding its many dangers. As they travelled, Zecora pointed out various plants, asking Apple Bloom to name them and their uses. It took them but a few minutes to reach the edge of the glade.

Though the short journey had been uneventful, Zecora stopped at the boundary of forest and open sky.

Zecora's ears twisted, scanning for any strange or threatening noises while Apple Bloom waited at her side. Hundreds of small birds adorned the branches of the trees surrounding the glade, yet the forest was still and quiet.

Narrowing her eyes, Zecora held her hoof out to prevent the excited filly from jumping ahead.

"Dear Apple Bloom, wait right here. I fear that a predator may be near," Zecora said, then she stepped out into the bright sun before immediately leaping back into the shelter of the forest.

Rising out of the tall grass, their bark-like skin creaking, stood almost a dozen Timberwolves. The wood elementals turned to face the shaman and her apprentice, the golden glow of their eyes narrowing. Instead of snarling or leaping forward, they released low huffs of shining emerald pollen, their shoulders growing relaxed.

Standing still, Zecora waited for the timberwolves to settle and she felt it was safe. Heart beating quickly in her chest, Zecora motioned for Apple Bloom to follow her.

Timberwolves weren't normally a danger, only becoming hostile if their offspring were threatened. Most ponies assumed they ate meat because they resembled wolves, but Zecora knew from experience that the timberwolves ignored living prey, instead subsisting off dead trees and fallen branches. So long as they weren't bothered, they would leave Zecora and Apple Bloom alone to collect their flowers and herbs.

The next creature to step forward, however, wasn't so harmless.

Out of the forest, muscles bulging beneath orange fur, stepped a full-grown manticore. The monster gave Zecora and Apple Bloom a flat glare as it stepped briskly towards the center of the glade, the timberwolves shifting to make room.

"Something strange is occurring here. It is best we take our leave, my dear," Zecora said in a half-whisper.

Her head whipped around when Apple Bloom didn't respond, just catching a glimpse of red vanishing through the grass towards the timberwolves.

"Apple Bloom, come back this instant!" Zecora called, leaping after the vanishing filly.

A moment later she heard Apple Bloom’s voice, "Huh, I wasn't expecting that."

Crashing through the ring of timberwolves, Zecora found herself in a small burnt patch of grass. In the center of the ring, with the eyes of the pack of timberwolves, two manticores, and even a chimera watching their every movement, were Apple Bloom and Fluttershy.

The young animal caretaker appeared to be in a deep slumber, one wing extended over another smaller form.

Too shocked to run, and unable to abandon her apprentice or one of her friends, Zecora tore her gaze from the chimera and cautiously advanced. Lifting Fluttershy's wing, Zecora got a good look at the form, a young filly. Her coat was the colour of clouds at the first hint of sunset, a very soft pink on cottony white. A three toned mane, gold with a streak of cobalt blue bordered by white, draped over the filly's face. Her tail was short and had a fluffy quality, further heightening the impression of clouds.

But the greater surprise was the horn thrusting out from her mane combined with the wings on her back.

Giving the towering two headed monster above them a cautious glance, Apple Bloom edged close enough to poke the sleeping filly.

"Hey, are you okay?" Apple Bloom asked.

The sleeping filly's eyes burst open. Blue as the summer sky, they darted around the many forms towering over her. She took one look at Apple Bloom and immediately paled.

"Mneme?"

"Knee me?" Apple Bloom titled her head a little. "What's that mean?"

"It's your name! Isn't it?" the soft-pink filly said, narrowing her eyes and leaning forward to poke Apple Bloom in the chest.

"Naw, my name is Apple Bloom. Pleased to meet you," Apple Bloom said, offering a hoof and a smile.

Zecora slid a little to the side as the new filly looked at Apple Bloom's offered hoof. The filly's nose scrunched up and she scooted backwards, her rump hitting the chimera. Blinking quickly, the filly lifted her eyes from the offered hoof up to the twin heads of the beast above her, then to the pegasus at her side. Zecora braced for the inevitable scream and the monster's attack.

But neither came.

"Artemis?" The filly scrunched up her face as she moved forward, poking Fluttershy in the ribs a couple times.

Eyes flittering open, the young mare looked about for several moments, sleep-drunk, and then she shot upright when she noticed the ring of monsters.

"Z-Zecora? A-Apple Bloom? W-what's going on?" she shivered, then let out a little 'meep' when she noticed the chimera. "Oh my, how did I get way out here?"

"Perhaps it is best for the question to wait, until we are in a far safer state," the shaman said, still watching the monsters for any hostile movement.

Hiding behind her mane, Fluttershy gave a small nod. Slowly, the three ponies and zebra left the ring, all of the monsters’ eyes watching them as they disappeared back into the forest’s shadows. Once they had left the glade behind, Zecora let out a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding.

"Zecora, what just happened?" Apple Bloom asked from beside the mysterious filly. “Why didn’t those monsters attack us?”

"I am afraid I do not know, why aggression they did not show."

“Oh, they aren’t that bad,” Fluttershy said in her usual, quiet way. “Normally, they are more dangerous to each other than ponies. I’ve never seen two male manticores in the same area before and not fight.”

The Starthorn plants forgotten, Zecora had only two thoughts on her mind. Why had Fluttershy and the young alicorn been in the glade, and that both needed to be brought to Ponyville. The shaman could think of no pony better suited to provide answers than the town's librarian, except perhaps one of the princesses.

As they approached the forest’s edge, Zecora turned her head to the filly. "I do not believe we have been introduced. I am Zecora, as you may have deduced."

The filly seemed startled, as she had been deep in thought. She gave Zecora a long appraising look, one that felt like it saw beyond skin and bone and into the zebra's essence.

Stopping, the filly gave a short bow, saying, "I am Tyr, daughter of Love and Duty. I thank you for coming to my aid, brave heroes. When I return to Mount Alicornus I will ensure you are all justly rewarded."

The other three ponies shared a confused look before Apple Bloom spoke up.

"Ain't never heard of a 'Mount Alicornus', but I'm sure you'll be right welcome in Ponyville until we can find your parents. Maybe you can stay with me and my family. We got plenty of room out on the farm. Oh, then you can meet Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle! We'll be great friends, I'm sure."

Apple Bloom continued to chatter, her words almost tumbling out on top of each other, as the small group made their way out of the forest and towards the town.

Ponyville was covered in banners of every colour and shade, happily proclaiming the start of the Celebration of Life. Lampposts were covered in hyacinth and poppy flowers, and the air was thick with the floral scents. Fillies and colts ran about in excited groups, playing, laughing, and generally enjoying the start of two weeks free from school. The flower sisters' stall had a brisk trade as mares hopeful to conceive during the approaching season bought poppy flowers to stick behind their right ear.

The flowers were said to bring the blessing of Celestia and increase the chances of conception. An ancient belief pre-dating the war of the Sun and Moon when, in addition to her duties controlling the sun, Celestia had also been revered as a goddess of fertility.

In private Celestia had told Twilight how she was thankful she was to have curbed that belief over the centuries.

Leaving the small ritual of the flowers was harmless, and even made Celestia smile when she saw mares with the red blossoms. The custom was a reminder of good days past, and the promise and hope for a brighter tomorrow.

Twilight watched as a pair of ponies, a tan earth pony and a dapple grey pegasus, purchased a flower, the earth pony tucking it behind his wife's ear. A little smile touched her lips, similar to the one Celestia would always get this time of year.

Turning away from the scene in the town square, Twilight returned her attention to Cadence and her brother. The Princess was receiving a lot of looks, but she seemed to be ignoring them for the most part, though one of her wings was extended protectively around her husband. Twilight chuckled, knowing how Cadence could be overprotective. It was something she’d become accustomed to over the years.

"So, neither of you have any idea what our parents want to tell me?" Twilight asked for the tenth time since they'd sat down for breakfast.

Cadence looked Twilight straight in the eye and shook her head.

Twilight would have believed her sister-in-law, if not for one small detail; she could never see through Cadence’s lies. It wasn’t that Cadence was a particularly excellent liar. More that Twilight completely lacked the skill to discern fact from fiction when it came to her former foalsitter. This inability had been one of the many reasons Twilight had grown suspicious of Queen Chrysalis before the changeling invasion.

It also made Cadence a nightmare at card-games. Go Fish in particular. Twilight had yet to win at the game when playing against Cadence.

Shining, on the other hoof, couldn't lie to Twilight more than she could lie to Celestia. That he seemed to be as uncertain about this important news wasn't helping Twilight's anxiety.

"When do you think they'll tell me? I hate all this waiting. It gives my brain too much time to conjure the worst case scenario. What if they tell me that they've arranged a marriage?" Twilight tapped her hooves together, her voice sharp and rough.

Cadence and Shining both gave Twilight a dead-pan look that should have made her realize how ludicrous her statement was, but she was in no condition for such meagre reassurance.

"I mean, the practice has fallen out of favour, but our House is old and very powerful now. Plus I am a Countess, not that I'm a Countess of much, just an empty forest. And mother used to go on about how important her title as a Baroness was, and how it allowed us the privileged access to the School for Gifted Unicorns and the Royal Guard. Oh, Celestia, what if mother has arranged a marriage between me and Blueblood!"

A laugh like the chiming of silver bells snapped Twilight out of her rant. Blinking away the horrible images of herself wearing a wedding dress beside the oafish so-called prince, Twilight shot Cadence a look.

"Twilight, I can assure you that Celestia would never allow your mother to arrange a marriage for you." Cadence reached across the table to pat her sister-in-law on the hoof.

Arching an eyebrow at the statement, a dozen questions whipping around her mind as to why Celestia would interfere in the affairs of a noble House, Twilight instead abandoned the line of thought and began to plunge into another worry filled monologue.

"You're right, it isn't an arranged marriage. They are going to tell me I'm adopted and am being removed from the House. Princess Celestia will be so—"

"Twilight, stop!" Cadence snapped before she could delve too deep into the anxiety bubbling in her breast. "No matter what happens tonight, your parents aren't going to disown you and remove you from House Sparkle. That much I can assure you."

Nodding quickly, and taking a long drink of her apple juice, Twilight slowly calmed herself, realizing that Cadence was right. She’d worked herself into a panic, again. Groaning, Twilight massaged her temples. It was then that a hoof wrapped itself around Twilight, making her cry out in surprise.

"How is my little Sparky?" asked a deep cultured voice connected to the hoof. "Not worrying too much, I hope. You've been keeping your sister calm, right Shiny?"

"As much as I am able, father. I think only the Princesses and our mothers can really keep Twily level-headed."

Shining shot his sister a wink as their father took a seat between them. Twilight pressed a hoof to her chest to still her rapidly beating heart.

Comet Chaser, a blue unicorn with a shade darker mane, two crescent moons adorning his flanks, the smaller curled inside the larger, gave his daughter a long stare before he nodded, satisfied.

"I'm okay, father," Twilight said, giving him what she hoped was a convincing smile.

"She's been going on about how mother is going to kick her out of the House, or she's been adopted, or how mother is arranging a marriage between her and Blueblood."

"Shiny!" Twilight snapped, a blush blossoming behind her dark fur.

His eyes giving a rare twinkle, Comet Chaser just shook his head. "Oh, I'm sure Velvet would be arranging a marriage right now if she thought she could get away with it,” he said in a voice that was flat and serious.

"You're not telling fibs again, are you dear?" purred a silky voice behind the stallion, wiping the smile off his face. Velvet Sparkle slipped up beside her husband and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, adding, "Because, if he is, I'll have to give him a stern lecture about tormenting a pony on her birthday."

“Never in my life, love,” Comet Chaser quickly replied.

Turning away from her husband, Velvet Sparkle gave Twilight a hug before settling into the last remaining chair.

As Velvet took her seat, Twilight looked around before asking, “Where are the others?” Twilight looked again for her herd-mothers, half-sisters and half-brother, expecting them to appear at any moment.

Velvet gave her daughter a sad sigh, saying, “They are all at the manor and couldn’t make it. I’m sorry, love. Whisper and Glitterdust both feel wretched and say they’ll make it up to you. Glitterdust in particular promises to visit when she can.”

“Oh,” Twilight muttered, her ears falling a little, unable to keep the disappointment out of the simple word. “Well, so long as they come soon, I suppose.”

“That’s the spirit, Sparky,” Comet said, giving his daughter a playful push.

Deciding to move on rather than dwell on her absent family, Twilight asked, "So, are you two going to tell me what this news I had to be twenty-one to hear is all about?"

Twilight's parents shared a deep and worried look, one that did little but rekindle the fires of anxiety that burned in Twilight.

"It’s best if we have that conversation tonight, after the party. It's very private and a street cafe is no place to have it," Velvet said, giving her daughter’s hoof a sympathetic pat.

Twilight’s face contorted as she fought to gain control of her emotions before finally deflating with an exasperated sigh.

"Okay, well, I see that..." Twilight's voice trailed off, her ears beginning to flick erratically.

"Twily? You okay?" Shining asked as his sister's eyes began to dart around the cafe.

For a moment Twilight looked at the crowd starting to gather for the Mayor's speech, but quickly moved on. All around her were a soft chittering chorus of whispers. Twilight knew from experience that she wouldn’t see the source of the whispers.

Twilight first heared the whispers while still a filly and just beginning her tutelage under Celestia. They always started suddenly, a thousand murmurs just at the edge of hearing, too jumbled to make out more than a hooful of individual words, before fading just as quick. At first Twilight had thought she was being spied on or made fun by the palace staff, but she quickly disproved that theory. For a time she’d wondered if she were mad; or worse. Their visits were always at odd intervals. Over the last month, however, the whispers had appeared more and more often, becoming more than a mere distraction.

"Sparky?"

"Shush!" Twilight snapped at her father, straining harder and harder to finally hear and understand the whispers. The truth was finally so close; she could feel it. Closing her eyes, Twilight joined the whispering. At first she just made an unintelligible hissing, then she started to speak, "Two mistresses... Shadows and sorrows cloud her heart... She is in danger—"

Twilight was snapped out of her reverie by a hoof connecting with the side of her head. Crying out, Twilight lost the whispers, the voices breaking like glass falling upon the floor. Ponies cried out around her, tables and chairs clattering to the ground as they jumped in surprise. Rubbing her muzzle, Twilight opened her eyes and found Princess Cadence right in front of her, the princess' eyes critically examining Twilight.

"Ow, what was that for?"

Smiling sadly, Cadence simply stated, "Twilight, you were starting to have a magic flare."

Twilight snapped upright as her anger dissipated, quickly being replaced by a wave of fear. She hadn't had a magic flare in years. Far from a fool, it didn't take Twilight more than a second to put the two together. Her heart began to race as she started to wonder about the implications. Around her, the cafes’ other patrons shot fearful looks her way.

"I'm sorry!" she blurted out even as she reached inside for her magic to escape the judgemental glares of everypony.

The spell matrix had barely began to form when Twilight noticed something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Her magic felt off. Different. Weird. What was normally a vast, calm pool of aether just waiting to be summoned was instead a swirling, frothing ocean whipped about by a violent storm.

"Twilight, wait!" Cadence started to say, but in a brilliant magenta flash accompanied by crack of thunder, Twilight vanished. "Oh, ponyfeathers!"

"A new age dawns!" The general cried to the throaty boom of ten thousand voices. "An age of glory! An age free of hungry bellies and the pitiful cries of starving chicks! The Age of Steel and Blood!"

Gilda watched with bated breath as the general strode the ranks of griffon soldiers. Many had, only weeks earlier, been little more than commoners scraping for survival in the aeries of Southstone Spire. None had dreamed of battle or that their aerie would rise again to glory. For them, the aerie was both their refuge and their prison, a prison surrounded by the Zebras on one side, the Camels on another, and the remaining aeries to the north.

Once, so long ago that the memories had faded into dust and shadow, the griffons had ruled all the land they surveyed from the tops of the towers sitting on great Kiligrifjaro. To the north resided the citadels of Bloodrock Spire and Steelbeak Spire. The three aeries had been the united heart of a great empire, one that stretched to all edges of the disc. It had been the ponies, of all the worlds races, that had laid the empire low.

The winged equines' Legions had proven to be a match for the griffons. No two pegasus legions had fought alike, and the constant changes in tactics and strategy had stymied the empire. Still, they may have rallied and returned, as the empire had done many times before, if not for the unicorns. Together, the unicorns and pegasi drove the empire relentlessly until the griffons were beaten back to their ancestral lands. Weakened by the ponies, the griffons had been unable to resist when the subjugated races of their lands rose up to cast off their shackles.

But even the vaunted pegasus legions were nothing to the enraged Halla.

Few knew what had driven the isolationists from their home north of the ponies. Legends whispered in hushed voices to chicks as they clung to their mothers in the cold of night spoke of the Eternal Herd, a great sea of bodies that surged from the frozen forests and over inhospitable mountains. So large was the herd that it would stretch from horizon to horizon, an endless sea of proud warriors that couldn’t be slowed, much less stopped. The details varied, but all accounts agreed that the Halla cast down the aerie of Northrock Towers, situated on the coast of the then fledgling Equestria, until only the ghosts of walls remained clutching to the mountain's side. With the aerie destroyed, the Halla vanished, and had not been seen again.

But that was all ancient history. Now, they would reclaim what was theirs. The Griffon Empire would rise again, as prophecy foretold. First they had to reclaim their hunting grounds. It was a shame they were being held by other griffons, wrongfully claimed by Bloodrock Spire.

The general's golden eyes turned to face the larger army fielded by the other aerie. There were almost two of them for every griffon from Southstone Spire.

"We have been driven from our hunting grounds. We have been persecuted, spat upon, and made unwelcome in the world beyond the walls of the aerie. No more, I say!" The general, her mottled grey-brown feather's twitching, spun to face her army, her soldiers stamping clawed feet in agreement. "We will reclaim our hunting grounds. We will reclaim our lands. And we will reclaim our pride! What say you?"

The army screeched in agreement.

"Not all of you will return to our nests this night. But know this; those of you who die this day give their lives to usher in an age of hope for the aerie!"

Another chorus of cheers erupted from the gathered host.

"Some of you were exiles. Some of you were craftsbirds, or labourers, or even beggers scraping for life at the towers’ base. Some few are of the nobility. None of that matters now. Look to the griffon beside you. Today they are your brother or sister! Tomorrow they will be your brother or sister! For all the rest of time, we are all brothers and sisters!"

"Exciting, isn't it, cousin?" chuckled a youthful voice beside Gilda.

Turning her head slightly, Gilda looked towards her younger cousin. She was barely out of her juvenile feathers, with black tipped crest feathers and primaries. Her fur was a soft tawny brown, and her tail darted back and forth; a clear sign of excitement.

"It sure is, Blinka," Gilda smiled wide.

The butterflies and apprehension she'd had that morning, and most of the week, were being swept aside. In their place burned a fire and passion. Gilda was many things —gruff, arrogant, a bit callous perhaps— but until answering the summons to join the army and seeing the aerie for the first time, she'd never been afraid. That was the past though, and as the general spoke, Gilda stood tall and proud.

Gilda felt her own voice added to the rolling thunder coming from the rag-tag army. She knew they were little to look at. The griffons wore a mishmash of armour. Some wore boiled leather, others were covered in chain or scale-mail. A clawful possessed the ancient breastplate of the old empire. They'd be the younger sons or daughters of the few noble prides left in the aerie.

Growing up as the daughter of exiles in Equestria, Gilda had seen proper armour. The royal guard of Canterlot in particular were resplendent in their golden-toned plate. She knew that hidden in the armories, true steel platemail was stored for the day the ponies were ever faced with a war. Though no-one had declared war on Equestria in centuries, largely due to the Goddess of the Sun who resided amongst the ponies.

Even if an invader won, who'd raise the Sun and Moon each night?

This wasn't such a war. The griffons had no Alicorns that were integral to the working of the world. No goddess lived among their aeries to grant them protection or guidance.

A wide smile was on the young griffon's beak, one mirrored on her cousin's face. For the first time they had looked upon their ancestral home, discovering that it once had been a power to rival that of Canterlot. And now both were pardoned of their ancestor's crimes, welcomed back among the aerie like so many other young hatchlings of the exiled.

The general, finished with her speech, took to the air and joined her unit, one of very few with proper uniforms and matching armour.

With that, the entire army tensed, ready for takeoff at the sound of the warhorns.

"Just stay near me, Blinka. I'll make sure those Bloodrock dweebs don't get near you," Gilda gave her cousin a cocky grin.

A taunting laugh escaped Blinka’s beak as she quipped, "Oh yeah, I bet you three mice I get the first kill."

"Settle your feathers, soldiers," grunted a deep voice. "Don't be so quick or glad to enter battle. Those aren't prey over there, they are killers and hunters, just like us. Mind yourself, and watch your angles, and you just might return to the aerie tonight."

Gilda and Blinka turned to look at the older griffon behind them. His face was scarred, and his scalemail armour was well worn, having seen many fights. Both just nodded their heads and watched as the veteran moved off to inspire or cajole other young griffons. When he was out of sight, Gilda returned to waiting, rolling her shoulders to keep loose and distract her from the few butterflies in her stomach.

She did not have to wait long.

The brass horns of the captains sounded, one long peal telling the griffons to ready themselves. Tensing her legs and flicking her claws, Gilda stretched her long graceful wings.

Like many among the pardoned, she wore very little in the way of protection —just a simple barding of boiled zebra hide. A part of her, the part that had grown up among the ponies, recoiled at the thought of wearing what had once been a living, breathing, talking zebra. Had it been a he or she? Did it have any children or descendants? Gilda's skin crawled beneath the grisly armour.

The part of her more in tune with her predatory heritage was thrilled, singing for the coming battle. Rending claws would become deadly weapons. A tearing beak would taste blood. She could barely keep herself from leaping to the air without the command of the captains.

After what felt like an eternity, the horns rang out in two harsh blasts.

Together, the griffons took to the sky, their opponents on the other side of the valley following suit. The units —flocks Gilda reminded herself— formed into loose wedges. The wedges then came together to form a large cone, with the lightly armoured conscripts and volunteers near the front protecting the crossbow wielding griffons behind, with the heavier cataphract flocks between.

There were few manoeuvres, the two armies simply charging towards each other.

Pumping her wings hard to maintain her position, Gilda pressed towards the enemy with talons flexed and eyes narrowed. And many took their final breaths.

And then, high above the yellow plains of Zebrica, the two armies collided.

The sky dissolved into a sea of madness around Gilda, griffon grappling griffon. The bodies of the dead began to rain from the sky. Units quickly dissolved, the sky becoming a series of smaller fights. Into the madness, the cataphracts swept into the sides, their heavy bodies crushing down through friend and foe alike.

Gilda quickly lost track of Blinka in the chaos. Tucking her wings, she dived, talons flashing out to lacerate the flight muscles of a Bloodrock griffon that looked to be barely into adulthood. She gave out a pained squawk as Gilda's talons found a hole in her armour and tore into flesh. Screaming in pain and fear, she plummeted towards the cold, uncaring earth.

Gilda didn't have time to think or contemplate what she had just done as she beat her wings to gain altitude. She needed to find Blinka. Crossbow bolts hissed through the air between the two armies.

A sharp sting in her flank made her hesitate in a stroke of her wings. Coincidentally, this saved her life as a Bloodrock in heavy plate sailed through the space where she should have been. Screeching, the armoured griffon banked around, lifting a heavy broadsword in his claws. Thanking her lucky star, Gilda gave her wings a quick double flap and then spun down towards her opponent.

At her heart, Gilda was a racer, growing up with her chick-hood friend, Rainbow Dash. Not a sprinter like the pegasus, but an endurance flier. Tucking one wing to her side and flicking the other out in a maneuver Dash had once shown her, Gilda entered a loose spinning roll. Behind the helmet her adversary wore, Gilda could see confusion.

Gilda smiled.

Wings flicking in and out in precisely timed motions, Gilda altered her roll, and swung into a climb. The Bloodrock's sword hummed through the air, the blade lightly kissing the feathers of Gilda's cheek and throat. Then Gilda was on his back, wings spread and straining to hold them both aloft.

Back legs began to kick and rake, scraping and squealing against the hardened steel, while her talons dug into the gaps between the plates in the griffon's neck. Howling in pain, the griffon beneath her tried to throw her off. Gilda gripped tighter, refusing to be shaken from her prey.

"Like buck I am going to—" Gilda's taunt ended in a light howl as a sharp pain cut across the right of her chest, bouncing from rib to rib.

Twisting to her left, Gilda rolled around the Bloodrock griffon and saw that he had reversed his grip on his sword to drive it behind him. Again and again, the Bloodrock soldier drove the sword at Gilda. Sucking in her gut and wrenching herself side to side, Gilda narrowly avoided a second stinging kiss from the blade. Inches from each other, and with their own blood flowing down their armour, Gilda kicking her back legs sideways, rolling around so she was face to face with her opponent. Using the speed and surprise of her maneuver to her advantage, Gilda grabbed at the talons holding the sword with one claw, and her opponent’s helmet with the other.

Tensing her legs and exposed belly for an anticipated raking by the larger and armoured griffon, Gilda was shocked when it never came. Instead, the talon of her hallux found the gap in the Bloodrock griffon's helmet for his eyes. There was a scream, followed by the griffon clutching at his face as he let go of his sword and fell backwards out of the sky.

Grasping the sword before it followed its owner, Gilda turned to see she had fallen to the bottom levels of the battle. Above her, a swarming sea of griffons fought and clawed at each other, a steady stream of bodies tumbling towards the ground. Gilda’s eyes were inexperienced, but she was fairly certain that Southstone Spire was losing. Gripping her new sword tightly, Gilda began to climb back towards the melee, only to stop when she saw four Bloodrock griffons diving.

They weren't diving towards her, but were chasing one of the few griffons Gilda recognised. Blinka swept her wings in fast inexpert strokes only a few lengths ahead of her pursuers.

Out-numbered, Blinka did the only thing she could; run. Gilda tucked her wings to her side and began to dive towards her cousin's pursuers. Blinka flared her wings as she approached the earth littered with the fallen, trying to put on some extra speed. Looking over her shoulder, she saw all four of the enemy still following her, and Gilda behind them.

Over broken grass, covered with the dead and dying, the six griffons sped.

The wound in her side burned as Gilda continued to stroke the air with her wings. She felt her tempo slowing with each beat. Glaring ahead, she saw that the Bloodrock's had gained almost three lengths on her cousin. She wouldn't reach Blinka in time. Snarling to herself, Gilda looked to the sword in her claws.

Blinka, looking over her shoulder at her pursuers, saw that they were almost on her. In a last-ditch attempt to lose her pursuers, she swung around a shallow outcrop of stone and clipped the top of a dead tree. Crying out, Blinka tumbled and slammed into the ground, rolling to stop. Gilda's heart leapt into her throat as she stared at her unmoving cousin.

The four Bloodrock griffons landed around Blinka, one laughing as he walked towards her.

Blood pounding in her ears, Gilda screamed as she tucked her wings and drove into the laughing Bloodrock's back, broadsword leading the way. She rolled off the Bloodrock and to her feet between the three remaining enemies and her cousin.

"You dweebs aren't laying one talon on her, got it?" Gilda snarled as she panted for breath.

The three remaining Bloodrock griffons looked at her, and then laughed as they advanced.

"Gilda, go, leave me," Blinka coughed behind her cousin.

She winced at the wet sound in her cousin's voice. Common sense told her that even without the Bloodrock griffons, Blinka probably wasn't going to survive after such a crash. It was a miracle that she was even still alive, let alone conscious. But Gilda refused to leave her cousin. Blinka was the last friend she had in the world.

Setting her shoulders, oddly at peace with what was going to happen, Gilda lifted her head a little and looked past the three griffons facing her and towards the sprawling battle in the sky. As she did she saw a sight that would be seared into her memory.

A massive blue ball of fire was falling out of the western sky directly towards the warring griffons. Long trails of fire and smoke billowing in its wake, the fireball descended in a terrible roar. It was only a few moments before the fireball smashed through the back ranks of the Bloodrock forces. Griffons vanished into the billowing, bright blue flames. The fireball shuddered, and with a resounding crack that echoed as far away as distant Zerubaba, it detonated.

In an instant, over half the griffons still airborne were struck from the sky. From the heart of the explosion a small blue light blasted forward like a bolt, screaming along faster than the fireball itself had fallen. Gilda and the three Bloodrock griffons stood transfixed by the sight of grass bowing before a rushing invisible wall that chased the blue object. A pressure wave, Gilda realised, turning at the last instant to fling herself over her cousin, wings spread to shield Blinka.

She had just gotten her claws around Blinka when the object struck the ground, the pressure wave sweeping over the three Bloodrocks and tossing them back into the air. Only the small outcrop of stone that had hidden the tree that felled Blinka spared her and her cousin, shielding them from the worst of the shockwave. Stones and twigs buffeted Gilda, clenching her beak as she was pelted with debris, her wings taking the worst of the punishment.

Ears ringing, Gilda slowly stood on shaking legs.

"Blinka? Blinka, answer me!" Gilda screamed, though she could barely hear herself through the ringing in her ears.

Heart hammering, Gilda watched, waiting for any sign of life or movement from Blinka. She wished that she had paid more attention during first aid lessons at flight camp. They had always seemed so dull and boring. Now she cursed herself for being 'too cool' for basic first aid.

"Come on Blinka, don't you leave me too," Gilda said, tears creeping into the corners of her eyes as she laid one claw on her cousins shoulder. "Not you too, not you too, you big softy."

"Heh, I'm not the one crying," Blinka moaned, her sudden movement and voice caused Gilda to jump, a yelp of joy escaping her beak.

Blinka protested as Gilda hugged her then moved back and gave her a soft punch to the shoulder.

"Don't you scare me like that again, you featherbrain!" Gilda snarled around tears. Turning her head so Blinka wouldn't see her crying, Gilda asked, "Can you fly? Or at least walk?"

Standing slowly on quivering legs, Blinka looked to the twisted shape that her right wing had become. Crimson coated feathers did little to hide the shattered bones bulging against the skin. Fire lanced through broken sinew, and it took all Blinka’s strength not to void her stomach. Shaking her head slowly, her eyes clearly showing the pain she was trying to hide, Blinka said, "I don't think I'll be flying for a while."

Nodding slowly, Gilda looked back towards where the battle had raged. There wasn't a single griffon visible in the sky. Not knowing if any had survived, Gilda turned back towards her cousin and sighed.

"Looks like we're hoofing it back to the aerie."

Blinka cringed at the idea of walking the leagues to the aerie, but didn't protest. Shucking off her soiled and torn armour, Gilda began to limp back towards home. The two walked side by side, each using the other for support. If stopped, both would have said that they were merely helping the other. After a few hundred yards Gilda spotted where the object that had devastated the griffons had landed.

“You up to checking this out?” Gilda asked.

“Not much choice,” Blinka turned her beak up into a smile, “It’s in our way.”

For the speed and power with which the object had descended, the crater was rather small. Eyes darting left and right in case it was a trap, Gilda and Blinka slid down into the shallow crater. Stepping around a protruding boulder blackened by fire, the two griffons came across a small blue object.

As one both recognised it as a pony, a filly just out of foal-hood judging by its size. Her coat was a dark blue, like the northern sea, and her mane a soft blue that seemed to shimmer and sparkle. Wings were clearly visible, the tips of the primaries a faded white.

"A pony filly? That fireball was a filly?" Blinka said, a disbelieving note piercing her voice.

"Not just any filly," Gilda muttered as she stepped around the filly. With a sweep of her talons she brushed back the short bouncy mane to reveal a slender horn.

"An Alicorn?" Blinka gulped, falling back on her rump, beak falling open. "Here? And a filly? But?"

Gilda gazed down at the sleeping filly. She looked so peaceful, the griffon thought to herself, even as her mind began to dredge up everything it knew or had heard about the almost all-powerful Alicorns.

There were supposed to only be three Alicorns, Gilda knew. Their mere presence in Equestria was enough keep all but the most brash enemies at bay. Not all, as the Changeling invasion attested. The invasion had ended very poorly for the bugs, the lot of them blasted to ash and broken chitin, if the stories of the invasions conclusion were to be believed. If Southstone Spire had an Alicorn... and with her being so young she'd be impressionable and easy to mold to the griffons’ purposes. Grinning broadly, Gilda looked towards her cousin.

"Blinka, I think we just found the answer to all our problems."

Book One: Chapter Three: Goddess of the Stars

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book One: Awakening and Arrivals
Chapter Three: Goddess of the Stars

With a gentle pop of magic that smelled of lilacs, Twilight Sparkle appeared in her bedroom. She wanted to take a few moments to try to calm herself, to lessen the blossoming embarrassment and panic that made her heart clench tight in her chest and her thoughts swim in a hazy sea. She wanted to sit, repeat her mantras and breathing exercises.

Except the voices wouldn't let her.

Where before there had been only a few, now dozens were speaking, with more adding themselves into the mix with every passing moment. There were so many, it was as if she was sitting in the throne room in Canterlot during one of the more rambunctious Day Court sessions. The only difference was she couldn't see any of the ponies, or voices in this case, arguing, only hear them. It was making rational thought very difficult.

"Quiet, please, just be quiet!" Twilight shouted to the empty room, pressing her hooves to her temples and briskly massaging.

For a few precious seconds there was silence, the voices seeming to hear her plea, then they broke out in a riot of noise twice as loud.

Groaning, tears streaming down her face, Twilight staggered towards her bathroom. She had a potion made by Zecora that could help, she hoped. It was only to be used in emergencies, Zecora had stressed that point several times while brewing the potion. Zecora claimed it would relax the mind and sweep away anxiety like a wave washing clear hoof prints on a beach. The shaman had also repeated over and over that the effects of the potion were highly addictive, as well as having a lessening effect with every potion taken.

Knowing her own obsessive tendencies, Twilight had always been too afraid to use the potion. So it had sat hidden behind a box of bath salts on a shelf.

If there ever was a need for the potion, it was right then, Twilight reasoned. She tossed the bathroom door open, her magic flaring so it flew from its hinges to shatter against the far wall. Splinters rained and sprinkled her coat, but Twilight didn't care. Other than the voices, the only thing in her head was the single goal of Zecora's potion and the promise of relief it offered. Unwilling to risk another magic flare destroying the potion, Twilight reached up with her hooves, striking the bath salts from the shelf to the floor where they clattered and spilled across the polished wood.

Twilight grabbed the potion in trembling hooves, pulling out the cork with her teeth before downing it in long, greedy gulps. It tasted like a combination of molasses and turpentine, with a smell just as strong. Her gorge rose to eject the foul concoction, and it was only with tremendous willpower that she managed to keep from spewing the potion across her mirror and floor.

Almost before the last drop had left the bottle, Twilight could feel it begin to work, tranquility and control reasserting themselves within her mind as the potion settled in her stomach. The world was like a moonlit seashore, waves gently lapping at her hooves. No tense muscles, no magic flares. Just serenity, and thousands of voices vying for her attention.

Twilight's eyes flew open, and she sat down with a thump at the realization.

The voices weren't gone, they had multiplied by at least ten.

Yet the potion was acting exactly as promised. Twilight lifted her hoof to examine it in the early afternoon light spilling in through her window. She had never felt so calm or collected, ever. Quickly, Twilight tested some math and numbers in her head, counting Pi to the twentieth decimal place, easy things Twilight used to do for fun. The answers came quickly, yet, the calmoring of the voices only seemed to grow.

"Twilight? Is that you?" Spike's voice filtered in through the broken door.

Spike walked into the bedroom, a basket filled with party decorations in one claw. He’d been helping Pinkie decorate the library for the party, Twilight recalled, still more focused on her hoof and sorting out why she was hearing 6531 voices. Tilting her head a little, Twilight knew the number was accurate and had stopped growing. Also, without the rising tide of panic, she realized that the voices had been concerned for her.

There were too many to pick out any one individual voice from the cacophony, but Twilight knew she didn't need to in order to understand. A lopsided grin began to form on her face, and Twilight looked over to her number one assistant.

"Yeah, I'm in here, Spike," Twilight said as she trotted out of the ruined bathroom.

"Whoa, what happened here?" Spike asked, his emerald eyes taking in the mess Twilight had made. "And why are you smiling like Rainbow that time Pinkie baked those 'special brownies' that no pony would let me try?"

Whatever Twilight was about to say was lost as she fell to her knees releasing an ear splitting scream. Pain, an incomprehensible amount of pain, exploded through Twilight, rippling down from her horn to the tip of her tail. Twilight couldn't hear Spike as the drake ran to her side, his voice filled with concern and worry. She didn't even notice Pinkie as the normally laughing and fun loving mare burst into the room, her huge, blue eyes filled with dread.

As quick as the pain came, it vanished, leaving Twilight panting on her side. Groaning, she tried to sit up, but found that her legs were being rather uncooperative.

"Twi', you okay? Should I get somepony?" the normally bouncy voice of Pinkie was strained and taught as a drawn bow.

"No, I'm fine, I think it was just a reaction to…" Twilight's voice trailed off as she was helped into her bed.

A small, but growing, thrum of magic began to build at the base of her horn. Scrunching her eyes closed she tried to block the impending discharge, but it was a bit like trying to halt a buffalo stampede with a stop sign. Behind the magic she could hear approval and anticipation tingeing the voices.

"Pinkie, y-you need to take Spike and get out of the library," Twilight groaned, her teeth grinding together as she fought to hold back the magic, little sparks starting to shoot from the tip of her horn.

"What, but Twilight—" Spike started to protest, but was cut off by Twilight.

"Now! Please!"

Pinkie didn't stop to ask questions. She grabbed Spike and tossed the dragon onto her back. With Spike protests filling the room, Pinkie then leapt out the nearby window, performing a flip as they fell, then bouncing off a trampoline to land safely beside the library. Twilight was thankful, both to Pinkie for having the sense to listen without any of her normal bubbling questions and for Zecora's potion. Without it Twilight was certain she'd have been too panicked and afraid to give the warning in time.

It was a near thing, even with the artificial serenity granted by the potion. As soon as Pinkie vanished through the window, Twilight stopped trying to hold back the magic and was swept aside in a torrent of ancient and unfathomable energy.

The fresh spring air was brisk and refreshing as it caressed Luna's face. The midnight blue alicorn raised her muzzle to the wind's touch as she leaned forward in her chariot. High above, Sol was beginning a lazy descent towards the horizon, while in the back of her mind, Luna could feel the moon dreaming.

It was a pleasurable experience for the Princess, one that never failed to put a smile on her lips.

Today, Selene was dreaming of the stars, the thousands of little points of light that kept her company each night. Luna could see the dream like she was watching a play. The moon was a big strong alicorn sitting at a quaint table having tea with Alioth, Polaris, Rastaban, and Subra. The stars were all pegasi, their cutie marks the constellations they belonged within.

The dream was common enough that Luna didn't have to pay attention to the details to know what was happening, so she just tried to relax. Yet, it began to bring forth unpleasant memories, a faint nagging sensation ending any semblance of enjoying the flight down to Ponyville.

It was still a sore subject for her, even now. Ever since Luna's return from her imprisonment within the moon, the stars had been at best persnickety and often outright dismissive of her. At first she chalked it up to her loss of power from the effects of the Elements cleansing her of Nightmare Moon. Gradually that idea had dimmed as she regained her power, her connection with Selene as strong as it had ever been, while the stars seemed to grow more distant. A few months after her return, Luna had tried to re-arrange a portion of the night sky. She had never been that pleased with how clustered some of the stars were in the constellation Gemini.

For several nights she had argued, cajoled, bribed, and even resorted to begging the stars to move. Only once she fell back to direct threats had they finally acquiesced. Happy that some progress seemed to have been made, she had gone to bed that morning with a smile on her face and a skip in her step.

The next night, Luna found the stars back in their original locations and steadfastly ignoring her.

Luna had been beside herself with worry and anger, kicking open the doors to the throne room with the Day Court only half-way through. It had taken all Celestia's legendary patience and tact to calm her sister down as Luna alternated between shouting obscenities out the window to the stars hidden above and breaking down in tearful sobs. The tub of chocolate and mint ice cream has also helped, Luna admitted privately.

Once Luna had been calmed down, Celestia shared a pet theory she'd been silently harbouring, one that had only grown stronger since Luna's release.

Luna was no longer responsible for the stars. Instead, they were looking to a new mistress.

Whatever reaction Celestia had been expecting, most likely explosive epithets followed by violence towards nearby furniture, it wasn't what she received. Luna had sat calmly for several long minutes staring at her own billowing mane in a mirror, then closed her eyes and silently asked the stars themselves if what her sister said was true. They hadn't confirmed anything, but neither had they made any attempts to deny the accusation.

More recently Luna had taken to likening the stars to teenagers, the way they sulked about the night or ignored her when she sent her awareness into the sky. The number of conversations that were halted just by her approach outnumbered the stars themselves. Luna actually felt more welcome among the nobles of the court then she did her own night.

But all that could be changing in the coming nights if Celestia's guess held true, and Celestia was rarely wrong.

A thermal jolted the chariot a little, bringing Luna out of her musings. She was about to playfully chid the two Night Guards pulling the chariot when she heard something very peculiar. It began as a quiet murmur of conversation between Pollux and Ras Thaoum, the two Gemini stars whispering back and forth in excited giggles. Then Propus joined into the conversation.

This was very unusual, as the stars needed to sleep during the day in much the same manner as Luna’s precious Selene. The stars would dim their light and nestle themselves within the blanket of aether that served as the barrier between the sky and the endless void through which Ioka swam.

Chewing on her lower lip, but dreadfully curious what the stars were doing awake during the day, Luna stealthily sent her awareness up into the azure sky. The conversation hitched for a moment between the three stars, only to continue unabated a moment later.

There are two of them, why are there two of them? Something's wrong. Pollux nervously flickered, the equivalent of a star wringing it's hooves.

The other is new, and similar, yes, but just a whisper and a memory carried by the winds. She isn't the mistress, not our mistress at least, said Ras Thaoum, the star darkening to a deep red shade revealing the star’s anger tinged with concern.

She's so sad and worried. I just want to pluck her up and give her a hug, sighed Propus. And those three poor little things she brought with her and now Sirius has—

Shush, Propus, can't you see the Avatar of the Moon is near? That is star business, not hers. Ras Thaoum turned a shade of mulberry as she interrupted her sister.

Luna winced, Ras Thaoum's words almost like a physical slap to the face. She was sorely tempted to ask what the stars were talking about, but she already suspected it had to do with the three alicorns that had appeared the previous night. None had yet shown themselves, which was worrying, but Celestia was dealing with that situation while Luna was going to deal with another.

Oh, come now, what would loony Luna do?

Propus waggled from side to side, giving Luna the equivalent of a wave. Far below, Luna gritted her teeth, but refused to be chased off by the stars.

Luna isn't that easy to sway, sighed Ras Thaoum.

Pollux snorted, No, you just have to go to bed in the evening instead of stargaze.

Luna hadn’t been prepared for the barbed words. Tears threatened to run down Luna's face as the stars words pierced her heart over and over. She knew that they were angry with her, but to be so cold and cruel, she had never expected it of them. Once they had came dancing and frolicking around her and Selene, singing and playing in beautiful displays of light. Now they barely tolerated her presence.

Are you three talking about You-Know-Who? interjected Regulus. The newcomer received a chorus of affirmatives that almost shattered the last of Luna's will. Taking in a fluttering breath, she steeled herself for what came next. I just spoke to the three sisters. The mistress was just with them. Though her connection was weak and intermittent, they say that she could hear them talking. We must prepare ourselves.

The deep voice of Rukbat then entered the conversation.

Have you seen what just happened in the— Rukbat's voice trailed off as the large red star noticed Luna. I'll tell you later. But it was one of the most interesting things I've seen in centuries. I'll leave you with that little teaser. Later!

Rukbat flew off to join the other stars of Sagittarius, who had been joined by those from Libra and Scorpius.

What was that about, do you think? wondered Pollux.

Flickering in a star-shrug, Ras Thaoum replied, You know how excitable Rukbat can get. She swears she once saw a teleporting dragon with a biped on its back.

Then Polaris joined the conversation, which piqued Luna's curiosity. Polaris was known by many names; the North Star, the Guiding Light, and Moon's Bane being just a few. She was the lodestar that all other stars rotated around and by extension the most powerful and important of the stars. When Polaris spoke the other stars listened. She was also one of the four responsible for assisting in Nightmare Moon’s escape.

Not wanting to be rebuffed or told off by the powerful star, Luna kept quiet and just listened.

It is time, we have to move early. We can't let that interloper try to steal our mistress away. She is moving towards the mistress' physical form. If we wait for the proper time, it may be too late. We can't allow Nightmare Moon to happen again. I will wake the others that still sleep. Begin the gathering.

Frowning and turning Polaris' words over in her mind, Luna opened her eyes as she drifted her awareness back to her body. The mention of Luna's mad alter-ego was troubling. Luna wondered if the stars were really worried that she was going to fall or relapse back into the crazed goddess. Perhaps that was why they were treating her so harshly and shunning her presence.

The only other explanation for what Luna had heard was that the stars thought that she was going to hurt Twilight. But the stars had to know Luna would never harm her, not in a thousand years, or ten thousand. Twilight was almost like another sister.

Luna needed to suppress a laugh. There was a very real chance that Twilight was her sister in fact. The other possibility was that Twilight was their cousin; though Luna found that outcome far less than likely. While her mother had been missing since Equestria’s formation, that was by choice. Luna’s aunt was gone, unable to darken the world with her spiteful presence.

High above, Luna saw star after star glimmer and shine through the blue haze created by Sol. At first it was just a few, then more and more began to shine until every star in the sky was awake and talking.

Luna felt a surge of power from Ponyville, one that quickly faded away but left a peculiar aftertaste in her mouth. Like spearmint and tomatoes. She opened her mouth a few times, rolling her tongue around in an effort to get rid of the taste even as she leaned forward and ordered the zbori pulling her chariot to fly faster. Their leathery wings sliced the air, the pair of guards straining in their harnesses.

Above, the stars began to gather, crowding over the small country town of Ponyville.

She wasn't going to make it in time, Luna realized, not unless she took more direct actions. Spreading her wings, Luna leapt from the chariot, startling her guards as she passed over them in two great flaps. With the broad span and long primaries of their wings, alicorns weren’t normally the fastest of fliers. Using magic, however, Luna could race alongside the swiftest of fliers, or simply teleport to her destination.

This is what she did, disappearing in a flash of light blue magic and appearing just outside the town's library. Back winging carefully, Luna landed next to Pinkie Pie and Spike.

"Lady Pinkamena, Spike," Luna said, giving each a formal nod. "Twilight is inside?"

Jumping at her voice, Spike rushed up to her, claws gripping her peytral as he stared up at her with huge, pleading eyes. "Princess Luna! You have to help Twilight! She... she... I—"

"Shush, Spike. Do not worry. This is happening earlier than anticipated, but it was not unexpected," Luna said, comforting Spike before striding towards the library's door.

As she approached the door, two new sensations pressed upon Luna.

The first was hundreds of prayers in her name as ponies looked to the sky and saw what seemed to be a second sun forming from the stars gathering so tightly together. Luna smiled lightly as the prayers came, knowing Celestia would be receiving many more. As Physical Alicorns, neither could directly answer the prayers, but they could gaze upon the ponies praying for a short time. Since almost all the prayers were in response to the celestial event unfolding above, Luna didn't bother to send her awareness to check in on the petitioners.

The taste of power leaked through the air, heralding the approach of a powerful entity. Luna paused as she reached for the door with her magic. She could feel both Pinkie and Spike look at her expectantly, but Luna brushed them from her mind, instead extending her senses outward much as she had to listen in on the stars. Instead of sending her awareness into the dark heavens above Ioka, Luna sent herself towards the hills and dales surrounding Ponyville. Among the spring blooms, Luna saw it; one of the portions of the previous evening’s wind, desperately clawing its way towards Ponyville.

Where before the wind had been rather harmless and almost playful, it was now alive with desire and fear. Closing her eyes, Luna pushed more of her conscience mind outward to get a good look at the wind. The magic coiled tight within the wind was vaguely familiar, but frayed with jagged edges that popped and hissed against whatever it touched. The wind slowed in its approach, glancing this way and that like a lost child. When it saw Luna, it leapt forward, staring back at the Goddess of the Moon.

"Help them. Must protect them. Danger. Danger. Must protect them!" screamed the wind at Luna's awareness, the unnatural force gathering speed and momentum.

Snapping her awareness back into her body, Luna cursed herself as a self-centered fool. The stars weren’t worried that she was going to harm Twilight, but rather, that the entity carried inside the approaching wind held malicious intent towards their mistress. She was thankful that, at least, she’d teleported the rest of the way to the town.

Luna was about to throw aside the library door when another voice broke through the shroud of self-recrimination and fear in her heart.

"Mother? You're here early," Cadence said as she galloped towards the library, Shining Armour and his parents following close behind. "It doesn't have to do with you-know-what starting prematurely, does it?"

Cadence had that small half-smile that said she already knew the answer. Beside Luna, Pinkie Pie was bouncing up and down with her characteristic wide grin, no doubt barely containing an enthusiastic greeting. Velvet Sparkle and Comet Chaser both slowed to a trot as they approached. Velvet rolled her eyes at her husband as he took long and laboured breaths from trying to keep up with their son and the princess. Luna gave them each a respectful nod, but kept most of her attention on Cadence.

"Daughter, you are aware of what occurred last night, I gather?" Luna asked, not bothering to discuss Twilight's situation, of which both Alicorns were already aware, and instead seeking an alternative source of information on whatever it was that was approaching the town.

"You mean the seven winds and the three," Cadence gave a slight uptick to her smile, "new arrivals? Yes, I am aware. There was a great surge of Love when they appeared. I'd have to have been dead not to feel it, given," Cadence lifted one of her majestic wings to show her cutie mark, the diamond heart surrounded by gold filigree shining on her flank.

Luna nodded, then looked to the north, where whence the wind approached. "What do you make of it now?"

Cadence closed her eyes and Luna could see her daughter practically expand, though she knew it was just an illusion of her senses. For a couple seconds Cadence maintained her extended awareness, very similar to how Luna had listened in on the Stars and Moon, but connected to the tapestry of Love that surrounded all sentient life living on Ioka.

When Cadence opened her eyes, Luna could see the trouble and concern that wiped away her daughter's smile.

"Love, so much love. But it is twisted and malformed. Almost grotesque in its single-mindedness. I don't think whatever is in that wind is alive. It's just repeating the same thoughts over and over." Cadence glared toward the horizon. "Mother, what is it?"

"I'm not sure. I think the stars at least have an idea. Though they aren't sharing it with me." Luna again reached for the door, and this time thrust it open.

Beyond it was a wall of swirling magenta energy like the funnel of a tornado. Luna sighed while Velvet Sparkle and Comet Chaser bother exclaimed oaths to Celestia.

"Princess, our daughter, is she alright?" Comet asked chewing on his lip as he looked at the wall of magic.

"Of course Twilight is alright!" Pinkie exclaimed before Luna could respond, bouncing up beside Twilight's parents and wrapping both in a big hug. "Things are all 'whoosh!' and 'zappy!' right now, sure, but Twilight is going to be just hunky-dory-rific! Right Princess Luna?"

"Lady Pinkamena is correct. While spectacular, this magic is entirely harmless."

Luna thrust a platinum clad hoof into the vortex of magic to prove her point. Little red sparks crackled across the surface of the wall, but otherwise there was no change or reaction. For a couple more moments the magic continued to hum and swirl, then it swiftly began to contract back towards its point of origin. Waving for the others to follow her and wait in the main room, which was half decorated with party supplies, Luna and Velvet Sparkle made their way to the second story landing leading to Twilight's bedroom.

Below, Pinkie began to sing and returned to tacking up a long banner. Cadence, Shining Armour, Comet Chaser, and Spike meanwhile sat watching the princess and Twilight's mother. Hesitating for a moment, Luna could hear movement on the far side of the door. Clearing her throat loudly, Luna gave the door a knock.

There was a startled 'eep' from the other side, followed by the sound of a dresser being dragged in front of the door.

"Uh, who's there?" Twilight's voice filtered through the hardened oak.

Luna and Velvet both rolled their eyes in unison.

"It's your mother, Twily, and Princess Luna," Velvet said, her tone sharp with concern.

"Princess Luna? Oh no! I mean, um, good! Yes, good! I'll, uh, be right out! Yeah, heh-ha-ha!"

Luna could practically hear Twilight's eye twitching in the librarian’s voice. Soon to be ex-librarian, Luna corrected with a knowing smirk. The panic was to be expected, but Luna didn't have the time to deal with it at the moment. If she had been more like her sister Luna may have tried to play up the obvious anxious mare a bit, but with the unknown threat of the approaching wind, Luna didn't have the time.

Knocking on the door again Luna said, "If you're trying to come up with a spell to hide your wings, Cadence and I can show you a couple. We’ve found illusions fairly effective. Celestia has gotten a lot of use and good results from transmutations over the centuries, however. They may be more to your liking."

Silence leaked from the other side of the door.

Very quickly, Luna sent her awareness upwards to check on the stars. They were all still up there, awake and shining, watching with bated breath the events unfolding so far below. A sharp intake of breath on the other side of the door told Luna that Twilight had perhaps sensed or felt something. Or she was just processing what Luna had said. Both were possible.

"Honey, why don't you open the door, and talk to us?"

More silence.

Starting to get annoyed with the delay, Luna was willing to give Twilight one last chance to leave her room peacefully before she kicked the door down.

"I'm, uh, sick! Yeah, that's it, I'm sick," Twilight called, followed by some very unconvincing coughing.

"Twilight Abigail Sparkle, you open this door this instant or, by Celestia's mane, I am pulling it off the wall and coming in there myself! You understand me, missy?"

Luna cringed and scooted a little to the side at the fire and venom that filled Velvet's voice.

"Yes, mother," Twilight said, defeat pressing down her voice and the dresser blocking the door sliding aside. Her ears pressed back, Twilight opened the door just enough to reveal one of her large lavender eyes. Fixating on Luna, Twilight asked, "You're not mad at me, are you?"

Holding back a huff and eye roll that certainly would have only further scared the trembling mare, Luna slowly shook her head and gave her most genial smile. It was a bit like a wolf looking down on a flock of sheep. Cringing back, Twilight opened the door enough for Luna and Velvet to enter. Taking it as an invitation, both ponies trotted into the bedroom.

Twilight backed up nearly to one of the windows trying to make herself appear as small as she could. One ear occasionally flicking towards the window, her eyes flitted back and forth between the princess and her mother. This gave Luna an excellent opportunity to examine Twilight. Walking around her, Luna held her head up like a critic examining a work of art.

The first thing she examined was Twilight's new wings. As Luna expected, Twilight's wings were long, reaching back to cover half of her cutie mark, and would no doubt have a majestic span when in flight. Alicorns shared their wing structure with the Imperial pegasi; long and broad, with the primary feathers seaming to reach out towards the horizon. The tips of Twilight's feathers darkened from the gentle lavender of her coat to an almost midnight black at the tips.

Shifting her gaze, Luna next looked over the changes to Twilight's mane and tail. From them Luna discerned that Celestia had been right. Twilight was a Physical Alicorn, representing some actual manifestation of the world itself. Luna hardly needed further confirmation, but the way the dark midnight blue streaks of Twilight's mane and tail glittered with thousands of tiny lights like they had been dipped in diamond dust bespoke of her connection to the stars.

Luna wanted to cry, shriek, and maybe, just maybe, glare at Twilight, but she held back, reminding herself that the stars had chosen Twilight, if ever there had been any choice in the matter. Twilight was no more to blame for her connection to the stars than a child could be blamed for who her parents were.

Other than her wings, mane and tail, Twilight looked identical to before. Well, except maybe her horn was ever so slightly longer. Not enough to be easily noticeable. With time, that would change, Luna knew. As she became more and more attuned to the stars Twilight would begin to grow. Luna suspected that when Twilight had completely grown into her aspect they'd be roughly the same size. But for now, at least, the new alicorn looked like a unicorn with a sparkling mane that had grown wings.

"I'm sorry, Princess Luna," Twilight muttered, continuing to wilt under the princess' gaze.

"Whatever for?" Luna asked, and she even managed a smile. "You look beautiful. Celestia will be so happy. She was right, you are the Goddess of the Stars."

Luna didn't know how she managed to say those words without her voice hitching or giving any indication of the pain throbbing through her heart. She just sat down beside Velvet Sparkle and gave Twilight a glowing smile.

Twilight's eyes just grew wider and even more frightened.

"Oh no,” Twilight gasped, covering her mouth as realization truly sunk behind her eyes. “I stole the stars from you!"

Twilight was almost hyperventilating, the young mare placing a hoof to her chest as she sucked in greedy gulps of air. Luna couldn't prevent the wince of pain. She just hoped that in her anxiety Twilight hadn't noticed Luna's expression.

"Honey, listen, you didn't steal the stars from Princess Luna. That's impossible, right princess?"

Brushing aside the question, Luna instead went to the window. “I wish we had time to get you acquainted with your new situation, Twilight, but, what is the expression? ‘When it rains, it pours’. Something is coming, and if what I overheard is accurate, it is you it seeks. We’ll have time to discuss your birthright afterwards.”

"What are you talking about?" Twilight asked incredulously.

“Close your eyes and listen,” Luna explained, doing the same herself. Beneath them, Luna could sense Cadence also listening to the currents of aether in the hills.

It took Luna mere moments to find the entity, now much closer. Within a few minutes, Luna suspected, it would be upon them.

Grumbling to herself, Twilight did as she instructed. Luna braced herself for Twilight’s first attempt at detaching her essence from her physical form. At first it was hesitant and unsure, a wavering, slow advance, then Twilight’s courage and curiosity took over and she washed over the library in a burst of mint flavoured energy. She lasted only a moment before Twilight’s essence returned to her body, Twilight swaying and needing support to avoid falling.

“What was that?” she exclaimed, placing a hoof to the side of her head.

Despite the gravity of their situation, Luna couldn’t help but give a small giggle. Luna rarely giggled—it was unbecoming of a princess, after all—but Twilight was too cute as she checked herself over, glancing under her new wings and at her hooves as if to check they were still attached to her.

“What just happened?” Twilight asked, spinning on the spot as she continued to inspect herself.

“We call it our ‘awareness’,” Luna said as she fell back into her body once more. “I’ll explain everything to you, as soon as we’ve dealt with the approaching trouble.”

“Right.” Twilight nodded her head, saying again, “Right.”

“Princess, is there anything I can do to help?” Velvet asked, despite having already stepped up to Twilight’s side.

Looking the middle-aged mare over, Luna simply shrugged her wings. Velvet Sparkle, Baroness of Sparkledale and the surrounding lands, was well known within Canterlot politics for her stern, unflinching support of the crown, and her acid tongue when challenged. Much of Velvet’s past was a mystery. For a time she’d been missing and presumed dead among the endless, ancient forests of Equestria’s northern neighbor, only for her to reappear years later, emerging out of the Everfree with only a cloak of Winter Wolf fur, some travelling provisions, and a powerful enchantment that clung to her like a fine morning dew, blocking her from sharing her missing time.

Celestia strongly suspected that it was Mother who had placed the spell on Velvet. This impression was further enhanced when Twilight had appeared as a barely swaddled infant, only a few days old, her wings and earth-sense already bound, on the doorstep of Sparkle Manor.

“I can not say if you’ll be able to help or not, lady Sparkle,” Luna said, returning her attention to the present.

“What about the others?” Twilight asked, looking towards the open door to the common room, where Pinkie could be heard singing above a low hum of conversation.

Luna didn’t bother to glance away from the window as she stated, “Cadence will protect them. Besides, your stars were convinced that it is you this entity seeks. If it does attack Cadence, we are only a few steps away.”

“Okay, yeah, I guess that makes sense,” Twilight gulped, turning her attention to the same window Luna was peering at with such intensity. A few more moments passed, a low bubbling hissing sound beginning to filter through the panes of glass. “Any idea what it is?”

“Nay. Only that it appeared last eve and is carried upon the wind. It may be the wind itself, for all we know.”

The wind was close now, within Ponyville and slinking around the library. Like the previous night, Luna could feel the tingle of magic. Taking a shallow breath, Luna prepared a series of wards and defensive spells if whatever was coming proved to be dangerous. The wind slowed, gently rustling the leaves of the library, before it moved on, slipping through Ponyville before entering the Everfree. Luna let out a sigh she didn't know she'd been holding.

"Princess, what was that?" Twilight looked towards Luna, concern and curiosity shining within her eyes.

"Truly, I do not know. Celestia is dealing with it as well as some other concerns. I’m actually surprised she wasn’t here, just now.” Luna tapped her chin, wondering where her sister could be, before discounting the effort as pointless. The wind was gone, they were safe, and so, Luna could begin the true purpose for her visit. “Now, come, I was hoping to teach you how to listen to the stars. You'll also, probably, be responsible for waking them during dusk, but we won't know for sure for a few more hours." Luna made her way towards the comfortable bed, adding under her breath, "and maybe we can finally find out why they are so mad at me."

Torn between education and dealing with a potential crisis, Twilight hovered by the window for a few moments before slowly rejoining Luna. Just as Twilight turned away from the window, the prospect of learning combined with the assurance that Celestia was dealing with the potential crisis winning out over the desire to act, the wind reared up and burst through the windows.

Flaring her wings Luna leapt across the short divide between herself and Twilight, a gentle blue corona of magic lighting along her horn as she landed. Shattered glass scattered around their hooves, books blew from shelves, while Twilight released out a sharp exclamation.

Like fog, the wind flooded in through the windows, pooling and coiling about the floor. While the surface popped and hissed, inside it was naught but an endless void, pitch black and empty, a night sky devoid of stars. The cloying sulphurous scent of brimstone wafted from the fog, making Luna, Twilight, and Velvet crinkle their noses.

"I know I'm repeating myself a lot lately, but; what is that!?" Twilight yelped, jumping backwards onto a low trunk.

"It… It’s a shade,” Luna gaped at the creature. "But, that is impossible!”

The shade circled the three mares like a wolf it’s prey while Luna and Velvet both cast wards to hold it back. From the room below came Cadence’s voice, followed by hooves pounding up the stairs. Snapping around the room, the shade slammed the doors and windows shut, a faint trace of magic around each showing Luna that it was attempting to seal them within the room.

Luna was deeply troubled.

She’d expected Celestia to have dealt with this issue, but so much had changed since the previous night. There had been none of the malevolence seeping off the wind the previous night. There certainly had not been a shade present. Which meant it had to be one of the magical signatures cast from the heart of the previous evening’s disturbance. Luna’s eyes widened. Seven such shades were loose on Ioka in addition to three alicorns.

While Luna and the others remained behind the protective wards, watching it, the shade lifted itself up the legs of Twilight's bed. There it pooled on her covers before spilling again onto the floor. Luna backed slowly towards Twilight as the shade approached the wards, rising up until it looked like a black sheet draped over a pony. The shade swung its head left and right, a wheezing sound, like wind billowing through a tunnel, emanating from deep within the shade. Stopping the sound and motion, the shade stared past Luna and Velvet towards Twilight.

"Stand back, abomination," Luna growled, spreading her wings wider to create another barrier between it and Twilight as the shade took a step forward, igniting her horn with magic as she called upon a dozen runes. "Identify yourself and your intention."

"Protect them, I have to protect them," moaned the shade, placing one long, ethereal leg upon the wards, blue, purple, and emerald sparks igniting at the point of contact.

"I am Princess Luna, Goddess of the Moon and Shepherd of the Night, take not another step!" The magic around Luna's horn continued to grow, the princess forming a spell that she hoped would drive the shade back. "I won't let you near Twilight."

"The Olympians! I must protect them from the Olympians!" howled the shade, its piercing voice trembling the bookshelves of the library. "The rest, they dream, they abandon them… But I will not. I must protect them."

"Protect whom?" Twilight asked, jumping down from the trunk and walking up beside Luna. The princess felt a hoof touch her just above the flight muscles making her look back towards the younger mare. Twilight gently shook her head 'no' and continued towards the wards. "Who do you need to protect, and who are the Olympians?"

In the doorway to the main room appeared five faces, all of them worried. Cadence and Shining made to enter the room with lowered horns, but stopped when Twilight waved them to wait. Behind them, Spike and Comet alternated between fear and hope. Pinkie Pie just leaned forward and growled like Applejack's dog, Winona.

"The Olympians... they will corrupt them, and if they cannot, then they will destroy them. I cannot allow it! I must protect them!"

The shade reared back on its hooves, front legs kicking at the wards, striking them with a sha-pom-pom sound. Under the third blow, the wards failed. Landing on all fours the shade leapt towards Twilight, howling like a banshee. Twilight reacted first, shooting a simple beam of stunning magic at the shade, while Velvet summoned a torrent of dark green fire. Neither spell had the least effect on the shade. With unnatural speed, it flowed forward, wrapping itself around Twilight, pinning her new wings to her side.

“Give me the power to protect them,” screeched the shade, as Cadence and Shining both shouted Twilight’s name, leaping into the room.

Luna cursed; her spell wasn't ready. She'd grown slow and pampered, with little of the blunt aggressive instinct she'd carried a thousand years ago during the War of the Sun and Moon. Then again, she'd been possessed by her own envy and had become a foul creature of darkness and spite. It was perhaps understandable that she was no longer as adept at fighting, but it still grated on Luna's nerves.

Twilight's eyes widened as her magic began to flow from her and into the shade, trails of smoke licking the air in its wake. Cadence and Shining made it only a few steps, their spells reaching the point of release, when the room was filled with a corona of light and a high pitched shriek. A great series of bang sounded, followed by a mighty boom that shook all of Ponyville.

Luna’s own spell, so close to completion, fizzled, and from the cries of Cadence and Shining, theirs did as well. The magic from each rebounding on their casters, sending tendrils of burning frost through their horns and down their necks, only stopping at their tails. Grunting, Luna staggered back a step, stung, blind, and worried.

“Twilight?” She and several other voices called together.

“I’m okay, I think,” answered Twilight between wheezing gasps.

As her eyes cleared, Luna beheld Peewee hovering in the air between Twilight and her attacker. Flames and heat rolled off the juvenile phoenix, his claws slashing through the shade's head. Behind the phoenix, their lights burning bright, were stars, dozens of them, lifting from Twilight’s mane and forming ranks between her and the shade.

It was all the proof Luna needed to know, without a drop of uncertainty, that Twilight was indeed the Goddess of the Stars. Never had Luna seen stars beneath the sky and retain their fiery forms of light and pure aether. Twilight’s own eyes were still closed, her stance uncertain as she shook her head as if lost or confused.

Howling again, the shade retreated, pausing at the window to let out a knell that echoed deep into Luna's heart and left her legs shaking. Then it was gone, slinking and vanishing into the countryside.

“Are you alright?” The question came from everypony, all but Luna, Cadence and Velvet crowding around her in their concern.

Each of the others took a window, watching the countryside for any sign of the shade’s return. The precaution was quickly proven to be unnecessary, as the energy given off by the shade trailed off, returning to the north. The crowd couldn’t get too close to Twilight, the stars buzzing like angry bees around her while Peewee cawed, shooting a baleful glance at anypony who got too close. After a few more moments, the stars settled, returning to Twilight’s mane while Peewee took up a perch on the north-facing windowsill.

There was no reprieve, however, as the moment after there was another flash of light, those this one softer. While Shining and Velvet both jumped into defensive stances, Luna simply gave a low snort.

“You’re late, Tia,” Luna said, not surprised to see her sister standing near the middle of the room.

“I came as soon as I learned what was transpiring,” Celestia said, stepping forward to inspect Twilight herself. “Twilight, how are you?”

“I’m okay, I promise,” Twilight grumbled, finally rubbing the last of her blindness away. “Next time, Peewee, not so bright right in front of my muzzle, please?” Twilight added with a forced laugh.

Peewee bristled his feathers, giving an indignant chirp, head inclined as if to say, ‘Well, then next time, you can save yourself.’

Luna smirked at Twilight’s reaction as the young mare glanced up, bleary eyed but safe, and saw Celestia. She wore her ancient armour, not used since the war Luna and she had fought. The armour shone with the light of protective enchantments etched into the burnished gold plates that hugged Celestia like a second skin. Straps creaked whenever she moved.

“I’m so sorry, Twilight, everypony, for being late. I was attempting to track one of the others when Sol informed me of what was transpiring here.” Her face taut with worry, Celestia wrapped her hooves around Twilight, and brought the startled mare into a tight embrace. “One landed outside Manehatten, but has already vanished. I could barely detect a trace of her magic.”

“There’s more of those… shades?” Velvet growled the question, moving a little closer to Twilight.

“Seven, at least,” Luna stated, a note of deep discontent making itself known in her voice. “I had thought them spirits, perhaps. Or maybe I just hoped.” Luna gave her head a slow shake, regretting her carelessness, and what it almost cost.

Clearing his throat, Comet said, “You mention shades, but I am unfamiliar with the term, other than it denotes an… undead pony. Is that what… that was?”

Releasing Twilight from the bone crushing hug, Celestia gave Luna a wholly significant look, one that asked a single, silent question; how much should they tell? Taking the lead, as always, Celestia cleared her throat, before giving a short explanation.

“Shades are not undead. To be undead, one has to be dead first.” Luna chuckled at Celestia’s expert splitting of hairs. “I’m sorry for being glib,” Celestia added, “but we don’t really know much about shades. The only one we ever encounter was long, long ago. Before Nightmare Moon, Discord, and even Equestria itself. It is… a painful memory.”

Celestia looked to Luna, a great weariness settling over her. Luna didn’t need to read her sister’s mind to know what thoughts were taking root within Celestia’s mind. Many were the same as Luna entertained in the long years leading to her fall.

This was supposed to have been a happy day, a shining moment of brightness not seen for a thousand years. Instead, everypony was downcast and dour, or jumpy and on-edge, eyes glancing about in case the shade returned. Even Pinkie was less than her normal, bouncy self, sitting quietly behind Twilight, her lips drawn and pensive, mane a little flatter than usual.

“Full-plate? Really Tia?” Luna giggled, in an attempt to break the pall threatening to hang over the room. “Isn’t that a little… excessive?”

“I thought it better to be over-prepared,” Celestia said, letting out a little snort at Luna’s antics.

Still, it had the effect of lightening the mood. Pinkie giggled, others laughed, and in general the atmosphere improved.

It was not to last more than a few minutes, however, before the three old alicorns all sat up straighter. Luna’s eyes widened as the distinct sensation of an approaching alicorn caressed her senses. She wondered, for a brief moment, why she hadn’t noticed it before, than quickly realised she’d been too focused on Twilight and the shade.

“Well, seems there is not a chance for rest,” Celestia said, making her way towards a balcony. “I’ll be back in time for the party, I promise.”

“Sister, perhaps I should accompany you.”

Luna made to follow, but was stopped as Celestia sharply said, “No!”

Shocked at Celestia’s forcefulness, Luna pressed her brow into a disappointed scowl.

“You must stay and help Twilight adjust to her new position, dear Luna,” Celestia continued, her tone much softer and conciliatory. “You are the best pony to help, being the Shepherd of the Night.”

“Yes, but surely Cadence can—”

“Luna, trust me. I have my reasons. It must be you. It must be tonight.”

Celestia’s face was hard, but not cold, firm in it’s pleading desire for Luna to listen. Arguments danced on the tip of Luna’s tongue. She worried Celestia facing the approaching alicorn alone. Though, being in Ponyville, Luna, Cadence, and even Twilight, would inevitably be drawn into a conflict if one arose.

Satisfied that everything that could be in hoof, was, and everything that wasn’t soon would be dealt with, Luna gave a nod of consent. There was a trickle of suspicion that Celestia was up to something beyond dealing with shades and alicorns. Celestia had been exceedingly intent on this night for months, smiling and giving coy hints about how memorable it was going to be for everypony.

Her suspicion was only heightened as Celestia said, “There are times where secrets are a necessity, Luna. Don’t fret, they will be revealed in time.” Celestia paused, pointedly looking at Velvet. “Some sooner than others,” she added before briskly stepping out of the room.

Luna frowned at Celestia’s meddling, while Twilight glanced at her mother, and Velvet gave the door a baleful look before taking a deep, fortifying breath. Luna felt for Velvet, the baroness struggling just to open her mouth. She tried again, but only managed a short grunt.

“Mother, what is it?” Twilight asked, her own concern clear upon her brow.

Placing a hoof on Velvet’s withers, Comet said, “Let me, dear.”

Velvet failed to respond to his pleading tone, she just stared at Twilight, a thin line of tears glistening beneath her eyes. Luna wished she could intercede on the pair’s behalf, but it was not her place. Cadence held Shining close as he watched his mother struggle, a look of pain echoed on his own face.

Clearing his throat, perhaps to buy time to figure out the words he was going to say, Comet left Velvet’s side and approached Twilight.

“You’re a smart mare, Twily,” he began, “Smart enough to know that there is a crucial question that has to be asked, and answered—”

“How? How am I an alicorn, Goddess of Stars, when I was born a unicorn,” Twilight said in a voice distant and lost. “No, it… it isn’t…”

Comet steeled his shoulders, bracing himself, either for Twilight’s reaction, or to be able to say what needed saying, Luna was uncertain.

“No, you’re not saying…” Twilight stepped back as if she’d been struck, piercing her mother with a look that demanded confirmation. “Mother, please…”

Velvet couldn’t so much as nod her head. Spike started to open his own mouth, only to find it filled with a pink hoof, Pinkie giving him a sad look. Her unspoken words were clear, ‘Later, Spike.’

“This isn’t funny.” Twilight’s voice broke around the words. “Tell me this is a joke. Mother? Say something! Tell me—”

“She can’t tell you anything,” Comet snapped, rare anger jarring his family. “Velvet is under a geas. She is literally incapable of telling you, or anypony, anything about your origins.”

“A geas?” Twilight repeated the words as if they were sand within her mouth. Her eyes began to glaze over, Twilight sitting down roughly. “Why would…? How? Who would… Who could do… Why only you?”

Breaking her silence, Luna approached Twilight. “Velvet has been under this geas longer than you, or Shining for that matter, have lived.”

“Then why isn’t she saying anything?” Twilight asked softly, then repeated the question, with force and venom, at Velvet. “Just, talk to me Velvet. Talk to me!”

Tears matting her face, Velvet stood with all the pride she could command, opened her mouth, and said nothing. Her mouth snapped shut once more, and without looking at anypony, she left the room. Twilight stared, shock mixing with disbelief, anger soon following.

Stepping up to Twilight, Comet placed a hoof on her withers. His eyes were pleading and desperate as he spoke, saying, “Please, forgive us for deceiving you. We only ever wanted to protect you.”

“Keeping the truth from ponies doesn’t protect them, Comet,” Twilight spat, brushing off his hoof. “What did you think keeping this from me would accomplish?”

“Twilight, if we had told you, the first thing you’d have done is run off to find your birth mother. You’re a curious mare, and when you have a question that needs answering, you’ll move mountains to find those answers.” Comet tried to give a reassuring smile, but it was weak and hesitant, weighed down by his own fear and uncertainty. “Look how you acted with the myth of Nightmare Moon.”

“That was—”

“One of a hundred examples,” Comet interjected. “We were given the privilege of protecting you, of raising you, Twilight, even from the truth.”

Twilight didn’t respond, her gaze distant and unfocused, lost in another time. Comet attempted to give Twilight a hug, only to stop as Twilight stiffened. Moving to the door, he said, “I’ll be downstairs with your mother when you want to talk.”

“Very well,” Luna said in her clipped tone, after Velvet departed, “If everypony could clear the room, Twilight and I have many things to discuss.”

The crack of Luna’s voice, accompanied by a stamp of her hoof ended any discussion on the matter before it could begin.

“Mother is right, come, everypony. It’s good to enjoy the small moments of peace.” Cadence ushered the others from the room as she spoke. “Let’s give them some space.”

As Cadence reached the door and made to close it, Luna said, “Thank you, Cadence.”

“I’m doing this for Twilight, not you, mother,” was all Cadence said before closing the door with a harsh snap that rattled the wall.

Cadence’s parting words cut Luna to the marrow, leaving her stunned and silent in the middle of Twilight’s room. Luna couldn’t understand it. For once, things had been going so much smoother between her and Cadence. Luna was certain she hadn’t imagined the warmth in Cadence’s voice earlier in the day.

Brushing away the age-old agony in her heart, Luna shook her head softly. Dwelling on the past would serve no purpose. Not that night, nor any night. The wounds were of her own creation, and would take her years to mend. Her mistakes, though calling them such was a gross understatement, were her burden to carry.

Luna smirked as she turned to see Twilight sitting by her window, alone and in deep thought, a hoof absently stroking Owlowiscious. The old horned owl had managed, through some obscure method, to sleep through the entire day’s craziness with nary a ruffled feather. Given Twilight’s lifestyle, today wasn’t probably all that out of the ordinary. One of his huge, grey-yellow eyes was cracked open, watching Twilight and Luna with the wisdom of the aged.

“Well, we better get started, if you’re feeling up to some lessons, Twilight,” Luna said, bringing Twilight out of her thoughts.

“Uh, are you sure that is a good idea?” Twilight’s voice, much like her gaze, was distant and unfocused.

“Of course!” Luna beamed brightly as she pulled Twilight’s chalkboard over. “You just need time to—”

“She just… left. She said nothing, and just left.” Twilight muttered.

Luna needed to get Twilight’s attention off Velvet. “How about I teach you how to listen to the stars?”

Twilight looked uncertain, hovering between anger and sadness. After a few minutes, she said, “Okay. Yeah. Celestia’s lessons always used to help me think and process information.”

“Excellent,” Luna said, giving Twilight a smile with more hope than she felt, Luna began Twilight’s lessons on what it meant to be an alicorn.

Book One: Chapter Four: The Party

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book One: Awakening and Arrivals
Chapter Four: The Party

Fleur was flying.

Which also meant she was dreaming.

The land below her was a dry, dusty summer plain, short yellow grass bending beneath a scalding breeze that swirled around the tops of rocky hillocks. Little hamlets perched on the leeward side of small rises dotted the landscape, protected from the harsh summer winds. The buildings were ugly things, built out of mud brick with thatched roofs, with no sign of care or attempt to create a pleasant front.

Between the hamlets, fields of tended wheat grew in abundance. Golden stalks waved back and forth in imitation of the ocean. The fields were rather small, probably just for local use, Fleur decided as she continued to fly over the plains.

Around the buildings equally drab and plain looking ponies milled about. A few looked up, noticing the white spec sailing across the powder blue sky. As word of her presence spread, the ponies below grabbed their foals and hid behind slammed doors. Fleur gave a little grunt of annoyance, but didn't otherwise pay attention, and instead focused on herself.

Looking left and right Fleur got a good look at the long, wide, majestic wings that took slow, lazy strokes through the air. She was no expert, but her wings were obviously those of an Imperial Pegasus, broad, spear-like feathers thrust out behind her. Fleur could feel the wind gently caressing each feather as it held her aloft, eliciting a soft, bubbling laugh.

That was odd. Whenever she dreamed, her senses were dull and lifeless, like she had been wrapped in a wool blanket. This dream, however, felt so real. It even smelled real; the thick smell of wood smoke tickling her nose. Fleur had never had a lucid dream. After a few more strokes of her wings, she didn’t worry and instead reveled in the feeling of flight.

Turning away from the hamlets, she started towards a distant expanse of shimmering blue water. As she approached the shore, Fleur could make out small waves gently lapping at a dock in the center of a shoe-shaped bay. A few more of the ugly, mud-brick houses were clustered near the dock and next to a market shaded from the harsh sun by white canvas sheets. Along the dock sat two long galleys, each with two masts and portholes for oars. Fleur recognised the design from her history lessons and story books. Such galleys hadn't been seen since the fall of the second Griffon Empire during the rise of Equestria.

"Just like a Trotan," Fleur said, startling herself with the tone of her voice.

Her normally soft, lilting tones had become harsh and cold like the winds that blew from the peaks of the tallest mountains. Concern for the change in her voice faded quickly as she continued to drink in the sights and sensations of the dream.

Expertly spilling the wind from her wings, Fleur began a lazy descent towards the dusty market. Her golden-shod hooves skipped over the uneven ground as she landed. The market’s patrons were all swarthy and unsavoury looking ponies wearing white duck trousers and coloured bandanas around their heads. They were the first sign of vibrant colour Fleur had seen since the dream began. A few of the denizens of the market rushed to get out of her way, others ducked down, cowering within their stalls.

All around her the ponies began to bow, dipping down until their noses were firmly planted in the dust of the earth. Fleur wanted to roll her eyes at the scene, but instead she slowly trotted forward, pulled along by the dream. Among the sailors and vendors Fleur spotted a unicorn wearing a bright maroon jacket with gold lace and a matching wide-brimmed hat, the feathers of a peacock stuck in a band of intertwined gold wires. Beneath the hat, the unicorn wore his soot black mane tied with a crimson ribbon. His dapple grey coat had been brushed until it gleamed in the afternoon light. Unlike the other ponies, the oddly dressed unicorn's bow wasn't so deep, nor so submissive, allowing Fleur to see his dull steel eyes that darted around the market, observing every pony at once.

"Lemurius," Fleur purred, a slight smile touching her lips as she approached the unicorn.

She held out a hoof towards the unicorn, letting him rise and place his lips gently on the polished metal.

"My Lady of the Light, it is so very good to see you again. I take it you're trip was... satisfactory, yes?" Lemurius asked, his voice thick with the burr of the Cantalonian Mountains and his breath heavy with the stench of cheap rum.

"I was not followed, if that is your implication."

Fleur turned away from the unicorn, motioning for him to follow with a wave of her wing and began to walk along the shore. The hackles of her neck began to rise, lifted up by an unfamiliar buzzing sensation. Something was wrong, she knew it was wrong, but Fleur was forced to ignore the warning.

For a short time they walked in silence, the gentle lapping of the water a few strides away drowning out the noise of the market as it regained life with Fleur's absence. When they stepped around the edge of the bay and left sight of the market, Fleur stopped. Looking around she made sure that they hadn't been followed. Satisfied, Fleur lit her horn.

Fleur enjoyed the cool feeling of her magic. It was like a fall morning's breeze tickling her mane and face, flowing from across hooves and wings, dancing in her heart, and then gliding through her horn.

Golden lines of magic burnt across the sand leaving behind the scent of saffron as they arced around to form a circle. When the two ends touched they darted inward, spiralling and bouncing off the walls they'd already created, criss-crossing until the circle was filled with a complex array of lines and smaller circles. For a moment Fleur reveled in the spellwork. She'd never be able to cast such a complex glyph so quickly.

Over a dozen runes formed the glyph’s base alone, with seventeen more coming together to create the frame. Most Fleur didn’t recognize, and two were odd, with forms that shifted and undulated when looked upon as if they were shy. As the spell’s cap, another eleven runes, was beginning to take shape, Fleur realised that this was no ordinary glyph. The intricacy used to bind the runes was beyond anything she’d imagined, or heard as possible. More telling, the ley lines began to be pushed away from the spell, repelled by the energy pouring through the runes. That the spell hadn’t fizzled from the amount of aether she was using.

It wasn’t just the flow of aether through the ley lines that was pushed away, light and sound twisted around the spell. A dome sprang up in the middle of the beach, with anything inside completely undetectable to those outside, no matter the means.

Releasing her magic, Fleur gave the glyph a cursory inspection before turning to Lemurius.

The unsavoury looking unicorn gave her a very slight nod, impressed by the speed of her casting. "Your Divine Grace, you asking to meet in such an empty dead land and creating such an impressive sigil doesn't have anything to do with what you tasked me with acquiring, does it?"

The smile Fleur carried grew dangerous and ever so slightly wider as she nodded her head towards Lemurius. The unicorn stared into Fleur's eyes for only a brief moment before he flinched, his gaze falling to the patch of sand that lay between them.

Softening her expression, Fleur asked, "You did retrieve the keys, correct?"

The unicorn gulped at the hard edge to Fleur's voice that promised pain unimaginable to mortal minds if she was disappointed in his answer. A raspberry glow surrounding his horn, the unicorn pulled a small golden bag from a saddle bag and dropped it in the sand before Fleur. Taking the bag in her own magic, ignoring the buzzing that was now like the droning of a swarm of bees, Fleur opened it to pull out three keys.

Each was black as sin and seemed to drink in light like a pony lost in the desert that stumbled upon an oasis. Quickly, Fleur shoved the keys back into the bag, suppressing a shudder as she moved it towards her own saddle bags.

"And my payment?"

Shifting her magic to her other saddle bag, Fleur pulled out a crown of gold. It was a very familiar crown, one she saw often.

"The crown of Hemera herself," Lemurius moaned, his thin tongue peaking out of his mouth to wet his lips.

As she deposited the crown in the unicorn’s waiting grasp, Fleur said, "Remember, it will return to her when she next performs the rites of raising the sun. That gives you five days. If you should think to use some magic to prevent it returning to her, know that she will come in search of what is rightfully hers. I would pity any pony she found in possession of her crown. My Aunt is not as forgiving as I."

"Just so, just so. Any pony she discovered with her crown would suffer most cruelly, indeed," the unicorn leered down on the crown with a smile of cracked black teeth. "T'would not be something to be wished about one’s mortal enemy. One who violated one's mother and sisters most foully and left them for dead in the burning husk of one's home. No, not even on them would one wish the pain and suffering Hemera would bring down upon those whom stole her crown."

Fleur watched with an arched eyebrow as the unicorn muttered to himself while placing the crown in a box covered in dozens of wards and sigils. She then turned away, casting her sight over the parched land.

Clicking her tongue, Fleur said, "I think I shall make a city here. Something grand, with white walls and golden towers. At its heart, a Temple of the Moon. Here will rest a great library with scrolls and books from across the Seven Lands. It shall be my gift to my Aunt upon her return and I shall name it Alnyxandria in her honour. What say you, Lemurius? Wouldn't that be the most wonderful gift?"

"It would be a most... appropriate gift, your Divine Grace," Lemurius purred, dipping into a low bow and sweeping his hat from his head. "If it pleases, I shall take my leave. There are many leagues my ship must cover and so little time. I shall have to whip the crew most fiercely as is to make my next rendezvous in time."

"Of course," Fleur said, waving a hoof to shoo the unicorn away, preoccupied with the designs and plans for the new city. Watching the unicorn hurry towards his ship with one eye, Fleur waited until he was out of sight before igniting her horn. Closing her eyes, she said, "Cousin, I have them—"

Whatever Fleur was going to say was lost as a shrill cry tore her from the dream and back into the guest bedroom of Carousel Boutique .

"Rarity! Rarity! Come quick, the Princess is here!" Shouted a high-pitched voice that pierced the walls between the bedrooms like light through a window.

Looking outside, Fleur was shocked to see the sun in the west. For an idle moment she wondered how long she'd been asleep. Fleur thought back on the dream as she rolled out of the bed. Unlike most dreams, this one wasn't fading away and clung to her, and in turn she set her mind on making sure not one detail was lost. Satisfied that the dream wouldn't slip away, Fleur made her way to the door and gently pushed it open.

Rarity's little sister stood on the landing, the white coated filly bouncing enthusiastically in front of the door to Rarity's room.

Noticing Fleur, Sweetie stopped bouncing and gave the older unicorn an appraising look before thrusting out a hoof saying, "Hi! My name is Sweetie Belle. Who are you?"

Gently, Fleur bumped her hoof against Sweetie's, answering, "I'm Fleur de Lis, ma jeune amie. It is a pleasure to meet you at last. Your sister has told me many stories of the mischief you and your friends find."

"Uh huh," Sweetie said, her hoof rubbing her chin in deep thought. "So, are you Rarity's Very Special Somepony?"

"Sweetie Belle!" gasped a scandalized voice.

Fleur and the filly turned as one to see Rarity in her doorway, her mane in its perfect bouncing curl, but her make-up and false eyelashes missing. Rarity must have only been up a very short time indeed, Fleur mused as she gave her friend a warm smile before turning back to Sweetie.

"Non, we are not 'Very Special Someponies'."

"Sweetie, you were saying something about the Princess?" Rarity said, her voice a sickly sweet that almost grated on the ears.

"Oh, yeah!" the filly exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she zipped over to her sister, Fleur forgotten for the moment. "I just saw Twist, and she said that Rumble told her that Dinky saw the Princess leaving the Everfree with Fluttershy, Apple Bloom, and Zecora!"

Rarity sighed, rubbing her face slowly. Sitting down, she put a gentle hoof on her sister's wither. Fleur stepped back, and started down the stairs towards the kitchen, not wanting to intrude on a family moment.

As she descended, Fleur heard Rarity say, "Sweetie, you know both Princesses Luna and Cadence are in Ponyville for the Celebration of Life, yes?"

Smiling to herself, Fleur entered the kitchen preventing her from hearing more than Sweetie's voice crack as she responded. She even started to hum as she pulled out some bread from a cupboard and orange juice from the ice box. There was something oddly familiar, and sad, yet happy about Sweetie Belle. Fleur couldn't place it, and as she began to scramble some eggs, she finally decided it must be how the filly lived up to and defied the expectations created by Rarity's stories.

Deciding to instead focus on the dream, Fleur pondered its meanings. She knew enough about dreamology to know that dreams often had meanings. Or so the other breeds of ponies claimed. Unicorns so rarely dreamed that, in the past, some had used it as a basis to claim that unicorns had no soul. Fleur snorted in disgust at the preposterous beliefs some ancient ponies held.

No pony knew exactly why unicorns almost never dreamed, not even Celestia. The princess had been asked once, and her answer had been, "For as long as I have walked this world, unicorns have dreamt but once in a year, and I know not the cause."

Sages and scholars claimed unicorns were heavy sleepers because of their need to replenish their magic, but Fleur didn't believe that explanation. Like the other races, when they did dream, unicorns would rarely remember the dream the next morning. So most didn't worry or bother about dreams. It was simply part of life as a unicorn. She'd never heard of a unicorn having two dreams in a year, let alone in a night.

This revelation made Fleur stop half way through serving the eggs onto three plates.

She turned to the kitchen door, a look of pure shock on her fair face, as Rarity and Sweetie walked through its arch.

"I dreamt twice last night," Fleur stated.

Rarity froze, a look of relief entering her eyes.

"So did I," she replied, slipping into one of the available chairs. "At first I thought it was the wine and just imagined the first dream, but the second was so real. Plus, I dreamt only three months ago. So, how could I have another so soon?"

"Same," Fleur said as she sat down across from Rarity, the late breakfast forgotten. "I was flying in mine, then I landed on a beach and was talking with some pirate-like unicorn. He gave me some black keys in exchange for somepony’s crown."

"I— I am not sure I wish to talk about my dream, darling," Rarity said, her gaze drifting to where her sister sat. The filly was watching both adults with a puzzled expression, head swinging back and forth between the two. "It wasn't as pleasant as yours sounds."

The fashionista put on a forced smile, but Fleur could see it wavering, cracking around the edges. Tears threatened to run from Rarity's eyes for a moment before they were dabbed away with a hoofkerchief. Taking a deep breath, Rarity reinforced the smile so that only a pony as practiced at dealing with liars and politicians as Fleur could see through the deception. For the sake of her friend, and still feeling guilty over the previous evening, Fleur didn't press the subject.

It turned out it wouldn't have mattered if she had as moments later a tremendous uproar came from the town square. Horns announcing the arrival of Princess Celestia, the distinct tune known to every pony in Equestria, mingled with cries or shouts of distress, piquing Fleur's and Rarity's curiosity enough to capture their complete attention.

"The Royal Fanfare?" Rarity asked, slipping from her chair to peer out a window. She hesitated for a few seconds, before her hoof was suddenly covering her mouth in shock, "Why is Princess Celestia in Ponyville?"

"See," Sweetie shouted, running to her sister’s side and trying to jump up to look out the window. "I told you that the Princess was in Ponyville."

Pursing her lips, Rarity didn't respond to her sister, instead focusing on the scene in the town's square. With breakfast already cold, Fleur sighed and slid out of her chair to join the siblings in looking out the window.

Then the blood in her veins ran cold.

Ponyville's central square was filled with ponies, most gathered around a stage. A contingent of royal guards stood between the stage and crowd. As distressing as the scene was, Fleur was more concerned with the fact that the guards weren't wearing their ceremonial armour, but instead the polished and magically hardened steel only used for emergencies. At the base of the steps leading onto the stage stood the town’s mayor and two other ponies.

The first Fleur recognised as one of the captains of the Day Guard. He was a tall and sturdy Imperial Pegasus by the name of Iron Gust, and it was clear from the blades on his wings and the set of his jaw that he was expecting trouble.

The other pony was Princess Celestia herself. Gone was her royal attire, the crown and heavy torc replaced with armour of burnished gold glowing with the light of protective enchantments etched into the armour. At her side, point resting on the cobblestones, was a massive sword. The blade was akin to the surface of the sun, rolling and boiling flames held inside a metal cage, and in the crosspiece was set a stone shaped like an eye, blood red and angry. The sword's name escaped Fleur, though she knew it possessed one.

"Why ever is she wearing that armour?" Rarity breathed, growing thoughtful, her head tilting a little to one side in appraisal. "I must say, it does compliment her colours rather well."

Rarity turned to see Fleur's reaction, only to find Fleur trotting briskly towards the door. After a second of hesitation, Rarity followed, Sweetie Belle at her side.

Pushing her way out into the crowd, Fleur made her way towards the princess, dipping into a respectful bow when she was only a few strides away. Celestia turned her head towards the three ponies, the grim expression on her face melting into one of minor relief.

"Ambassador Fleur de Lis, it is a surprise to see you here in Ponyville," the princess said in her kind matronly voice before she gave Rarity and Sweetie a small incline of her head and tender smile in greeting.

"Oui, your majesty. I am visiting my friend, Lady Rarity, for a few days," Fleur stated, reveling in being able to tell the unvarnished truth for once in a political situation. "May I ask why you and the Royal Guard are here, however? And in such armour, no less."

There was no being in all the world as practiced as Celestia in holding court and dealing with the control of information. It didn't surprise Fleur when Celestia said, "There is a possible threat to Equestria. It will probably turn out to be nothing and all this an overreaction."

Fleur slowly nodded in response, her experienced mind putting together what Celestia said along with what the princess didn't need to say. It was certainly the truth, and the way she said it made it seem like there really wasn't any danger at all. Yet, it was obvious more was going on. Something had to be terribly wrong for Celestia herself to don armour and directly seek to confront the danger. A little sliver of fear worked its way into Fleur's heart, and the ambassador slowly looked in the direction of the princess’ gaze. There she saw the treetops of the Everfree swaying in a spring breeze.

From the north a young guard approached, his steel boots spraying sparks as he ran. Panting, he slowed to a stop, saluting to the princess and the captain, "We have set up a perimeter around the library as you ordered, your majesty. Your sister and niece, Captain Armour, and several civilians, including the Elements of Laughter and Magic, are inside. There was some sort of disturbance, but as you ordered, we maintained a discreet distance and merely observed. Everything seems to have returned to normal, for the moment."

"I was already aware of what happened, but thank you," Celestia smiled, her eyes still fixated on the distant forest. "I was confident that situation would be dealt with in a timely manner."

Fleur shared a confused look with Rarity. Sweetie Belle, meanwhile, had circled around Celestia and was lifting a hoof, intrigued by the sword.

"You shouldn't do that, my little pony," Celestia said, her steely gaze never wavering from the trees. "Coronal Edge was forged on the surface of the sun and he doesn't take kindly to being poked."

"Oh," Sweetie said, her voice clearly disappointed as her hoof lowered to the ground. Looking up to Celestia, she asked, "What do you mean 'he doesn't like being poked'?"

"It is a long story, and perhaps best told another time," Celestia's smile grew faint and distant as the goddess thought back to days that had become nothing more than myth and legend.

"Princess, wouldn't it be best if Lady Rarity and the rest of the Elements were gathered and removed to safety, just in case." Iron Gust said, the pegasus finally making his presence felt.

"They wouldn't reach anywhere safe enough if this threat turns out to be real," Celestia stated, her words and tone sending a chill up Fleur's spine. "Besides, she approaches."

Turning away from the princess, Fleur saw a small group walking from the direction of the Everfree. She arched an eyebrow, wondering why Celestia was so worried about a couple of mares and two fillies. Celestia herself seemed to straighten for a moment, and then relax, a relieved laugh rolling from her tongue.

"And so, it was much ado about nothing after all. I am glad."

The harsh sound of metal on stone made Fleur's ears twitch as Celestia lifted her sword in her magic. With a little pop and golden flash the sword vanished.

Without so much as a glance to the ponies at her side, Celestia slowly walked towards the group, Fleur and the others trailing in her wake after a moment’s hesitation. As the two groups approached each other, Fleur's steps almost faltered when the 'unicorn' filly's wings fluttered.

The alicorn filly watched Celestia with a confused look on her young face. When only a half dozen paces separated the two, the filly broke into a sprint racing towards Celestia, leaping with a push from her wings and hooves outstretched. Forelegs wrapped around Celestia's elegant neck and the filly planted her face into her white coat.

"Auntie, I knew you'd come for me," the filly cried, little tears and sniffles escaping out into the sudden silence of the square. "I knew you wouldn't abandon me."

Turning towards Fluttershy, Rarity asked in a whispered hiss, "She’s an alicorn. Where'd you find an alicorn filly?"

"Oh, um, I was kind of snuggling her... in the Everfree."

Fleur gave Fluttershy a long incredulous look, though, when she thought about it, she’d heard a fair number of stories from Rarity about the impossible things that seemed to happen continuously in Ponyville.

"And Rarity, her name is Tyr."

"My little ponies, I think you have a tale to tell me. Let's head somewhere more comfortable and talk," Celestia said, running a soothing hoof down the crying Tyr's back. Then she turned to Iron Gust, saying, "Captain, you and the rest of the guard are to return to the palace. It has become apparent that your services will not be needed here."

As the guards rushed off to carry out her order, Celestia settled Tyr on her back as she turned to address the six ponies that remained, "Come, I believe there is going to be a party at the library"

Tyr tried to sort through a confusing deluge of information, face buried deep into her aunt’s mane so that the ethereal strands tickled her nose and eyes as she rode upon her back.

Since waking up in the forest glade she'd been trying to understand what was going on, but comprehension was frustratingly just out of reach. Everything was so calm and peaceful, which was so weird and wrong. The sun was shining brightly, not hidden by raging storms. The forest, though foreboding, had been alive with the sounds of small critters, not dead, silent, and littered with bones. And the villagers, they were all so happy and open, not running into their homes to cower beneath their beds at the first sight of alicorns.

It was like things had been when Tyr was younger.

When she had played and laughed with her cousins.

Before everything had gone wrong.

Before the war.

Even more confusing were the ponies. Fluttershy reminded Tyr so much of her cousin, Artemis, that for a moment she had believed that they were the same pony. Same with Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, who reminded her of Mneme and Aoide. The two older unicorns reminded her of family as well. But they weren't her family. Tyr could feel the mortality in all the ponies as easily as she felt the essence of the sun flowing from Hemera.

So, there was only one explanation; they were all priestesses.

But Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle were too young to be priestesses, and the ponies had seemed genuinely confused by the names Tyr had at first called them. Also, there was the small problem that there were no priestesses of Mneme, Aoide or Artemis. Even her aunt was a little off.

Tyr’s aunt, Hemera, Goddess of the Day, was blind. Tyr had always shivered when her mother would tell the story of how Hemera lost her eyes. She still had nightmares about Hera coming to pluck out her own eyes.

Aside from her eyes, this pony was identical to Hemera, so she had to be Hemera. Reasoning that she must have somehow healed her eyes, Tyr snuggled into the crook of the sun’s neck. Lifting her head from her aunt's mane, Tyr looked down on one of the ponies walking beside the goddess.

"Are you a Priestess?"

The unicorn looked over to Tyr, a slight raise to her eyebrows as she gave a laugh like sleigh bells.

"Non, I am an ambassador from Prance," the unicorn said, her accent foreign to Tyr. "My name is Fleur."

"Tyr," the filly responded in accordance with mortal pony custom. After all, everypony already knew her name.

She paused, mulling over this confusing accent. She had heard every one that existed while listening to the petitions of the faithful from her mother’s side. She decided Prance must have been from very far away if no pony from Prance had ever come to the Grand Temple of Love. Then she realized that she had no idea what an ambassador was either.

"Is an ambassador like a priestess?"

Again Fleur laughed, the bell-like sound making Tyr smile despite her unease.

"We are a little, I suppose. But instead of serving a goddess we serve our nation, going to other lands to help make sure that both stay friends with each other."

"Oh," Tyr said, resting her head against Hemera's neck and enjoying the gentle roll as she walked. "That sounds nice."

"Oui, it can be, at times."

The group continued on in relative silence for a few more strides before Tyr again spoke.

"Then why do you look like a Priestess of Wisdom?"

"I'm afraid I do not understand, little one."

The young alicorn bristled at being called 'little' by a mortal. She was Tyr, daughter of Love and Duty, an alicorn and a goddess. She wasn't sure what she was the goddess of, but her Awakening would come, in time. Then she'd be able to build her own temples and have her own priestesses like all the other Awakened alicorns.

"You look just like a priestess of Wisdom," Tyr continued, even reaching down to poke Fleur in the withers a couple times. "You're lucky that Prance is so far away. If my sister knew you were going around trying to make friends by looking like one of her priestesses she'd find you, gut you, and hang you by your own entrails until you were almost dead. She'd then let you down and repeat the process every dusk until you died of old age."

All around her, the group of mortal ponies stared up at Tyr in a combination of abject horror and fear.

"What? It would be the just response to such a slight!" Tyr squeaked, casting her gaze around for some support, but finding none, not even from Hemera. "The law states that to steal from a goddess is to suffer for your crimes by being hanged at the setting of the sun. To take the appearance of a priestess and to use it for your own gain is to steal from a goddess. Auntie, that was the law you yourself gave after Titus the Thief was found with your crown and surrounded by a harem of mares painted as priestesses of the sun."

"That is atrocious!" said a unicorn that looked like a Priestess of Beauty. Rarity. Tyr had heard the other ponies calling that one Rarity. She needed to remember to think of the mortals by their proper names. Tyr lifted her head a little and gave Rarity a happy smile.

"I know," Tyr responded, glad to have some support. "Mortals that steal from the goddesses deserve what they get."

"I can't even think about hanging any pony in such a manner. The hanging is bad enough, but to use their own... I think... I think I'm going to be sick," Rarity said before turning and galloping towards a nearby waste bin and emptying her stomach.

Hemera stopped walking, looked over her shoulder and gave Tyr a look that could make a mountain crumble. Gulping, her hooves trembling as they gripped Hemera's golden armour, Tyr shrunk away from her aunt's disappointment and anger. The message was clear; Tyr wasn't to scare the mortals. At least, she hoped that was the message.

Hemera began walking once more, a sigh escaping her lips as she whispered to herself. "This is why we foster our foals among the other races."

Stifling a sob, Tyr remained silent for the rest of the journey. All around her the mortals had grown sullen, putting a little extra space between themselves and the two alicorns. Even Apple Bloom had stopped skipping and babbling about 'cutie marks' and 'crusading'. Tyr had been wanting to ask why an earth pony that was so young wanted to go on a crusade. Those were always filled with terrible monsters and incredible danger. Unless she was getting a crusade mixed up with a quest again. Tyr often had trouble telling the two apart.

It took far too long before they approached the town's library, she could feel the emotions of the mortals weighing down on her like a wet wool blanket. Maybe she was an Emotional Alicorn, Tyr thought, trying to extended her senses outward. As always, when she tried to find her purpose and domain, Tyr felt nothing. Feeling even more sullen and wretched, she wilted on her aunt's back, barely lifting her head to examine her surroundings. She found her smile returning as they approached the massive domesticated oak. Inside she could feel the energy of three other alicorns; three very familiar energies.

Wriggling off Hemera's back, Tyr turned towards the two other fillies with the group. "Come on," she chirped, her confusion, fear, and sadness forgotten, "I can feel some of the others inside."

Reluctantly Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle followed, each looking briefly towards Hemera for guidance or permission. She give them a little nod and couldn't suppress a laugh as the three fillies raced ahead. Hearing the sound lightened Tyr's heart. Aunt Hemera wasn't mad at her for scaring the mortals. Not really mad, at least. Using her wings to flap up high enough to reach the door handle, Tyr quickly pushed her way inside the library.

Inside she found several more mortals, she ignored them, a Firebird, she'd play with him later, and, most importantly of all, she found the pony that meant the most to her in all of creation.

"Mama!" Tyr shouted, speeding across the room and throwing herself at Aphrodite much as she had done earlier with Hemera.

"'Mama’? Dear, is there something I should know about?" chuckled a deep voice from the other side of the Goddess of Love.

Detaching herself from Aphrodite, Tyr's eyes went wide enough to swallow the sun as she peeked around Aphrodite's back to see who had spoken.

"Daddy?" she said, perplexed. Suddenly a squeal of pure joy escaped her lips as she flung herself forward once more. "Daddy!" Tyr cried, laughing as she squeezed her hooves tight around the stallion's neck as she bore him to the floor. "They said you were gone, and wait... You're not my daddy."

Tyr released the sputtering stallion and took two steps back, a profound sorrow and emptiness dragging her wings down. She could feel his mortality, and knew the energies of the three other alicorns in the library. Her father was neither a mortal, nor was he in the library, or anywhere within a dozen leagues.

"Tyr, maybe you should have a seat," Hemera said, bemusement dancing behind her eyes. "I need to have a quick discussion with my niece, and then we'll help get you situated, okay?"

Accepting the question as the order it was, Tyr gave a mute nod then plodded her way to a nearby cushion.

Everything was wrong. She wanted to wail, maybe also scream a bit and pound her hooves, just for emphasis. It was like a pony had taken everything she knew and scrambled it all up. Tyr had no idea what to do or even what was going on.

Resigned to everything being turned on its head, Tyr tried not to make any sound, promptly failing as a pink pony appeared inches from her face.

"Hello, my name is Pinkie Pie, and your name is Tyr, right? That's what the princess called you, so it must be, right? Right! Of course you are. And you're new in town. I know you are because I know every pony in town and I've never met you before. So that means I was right! This is also a 'Welcome to Ponyville' party as well as a 'Happy Birthday Twilight' and a 'Happy Becoming An All Powerful Alicorn Twilight' party! It's three parties in one. A Tri-arty. No, that doesn't sound right. A trippy? A tritty? Hmmm... this is a toughie."

As the hyperactive ball of pink continued her barrage, Tyr sat there, frozen, head as far away as it could get from the possibly-dangerous blob. Curving across the room behind Pinkie, Tyr could see three banners stretched from side-to-side, one for each of the events Pinkie had named. Beneath the banners sat a low table covered in punch, snacks, and various treats. A few other mortals sat near the table, each giving Tyr long appraising glances. Used to being under such scrutiny, Tyr tried to sit straight. The young alicorn soon wilted as tears built in her eyes. Uncertainty, coupled with the bouncing pink form in front of her, quickly wore down her resolve.

She just didn't know where everything went wrong.

The last thing Tyr could remember before waking up in that glade was going to bed and being tucked into the sheets by her mother. She had no recollection of how she got from her chambers in the Citadel of Light to the glade. But she had to have gotten to the glade somehow, and if she didn't go there herself, that meant somepony had taken her. And that meant only one thing: heroes.

Tyr gave out a fearful gulp as her eyes sought the pegasus that she had mistaken for Artemis. Fluttershy was sitting by the punch bowl chatting amiably with some of her friends.

The timid pegasus, whom Tyr had observed jumping at her own shadow a couple times already, didn't seem the type to be a hero. All the heroes that Tyr had met were larger-than-life, grand figures that commanded a room as if they were an alicorn even though they were just mortals. Well, more than mortal, perhaps. Each hero was the chosen of an alicorn and granted a small portion of their matron’s power in times of need. Throughout the long annals of history there had been hundreds of heroes, each with a legendary tale.

Tyr had never really understood why an alicorn would seek out a hero. But she also couldn't deny the power and effect a hero could have.

On the other hoof, there was Fluttershy. She just seemed to embody everything a hero wasn't. Until she could make sense of what had happened, Tyr decided the best course of action was to keep quiet. Perhaps somepony she knew would find her, tell her what happened. Comforted by the thought, Tyr managed to calm herself just as the pink menace—Pinkie, she reminded herself—finished listing off combinations of 'tri' and 'party'.

Taking a long breath, Pinkie said, "You should go mingle, meet the other ponies. I am sure you'll get along great with the Crusaders."

With that Pinkie Pie began to bounce off towards Zecora and Rarity, singing a simple, happy tune. Tyr wasn’t alone for long, as next time she looked up she herself face-to-face with the pony who looked and felt like her mother. Tyr took a long gulp as she looked up into her soft pink eyes. After a moment Hemera joined them, sitting down beside Tyr.

It only took a few seconds for her resolve of silence to crumble. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

"Oh? Why would you say that?" Aphrodite asked, wrapping a wing around the filly to bring her into a hug.

It was a hug that felt so familiar, so right, that it just made things worse. Deep inside Tyr's heart, a wall crumbled, one she hadn't even realised existed. Her heart beat faster, her breaths becoming quick and shallow as a trail of sparkling tears began to trail down her cheeks.

"Because... because... I scared all the mortals, and you two seem so disappointed in me and, and, I don't know what's happening!"

Tyr’s tears dripped off her muzzle in a constant stream of crystal drops, as Tyr started hiccuping between sobs. Then Aphrodite started to sing, a simple lilting melody drifting through her consciousness and around the room. As Aphrodite sang, Hemera picked the tears up, one by one, folding them into a small cloth. Soon everypony present found themselves entranced by the song.

Over in Everfree, many years ago
My mother sang this song to me in tones so sweet and low
Just a simple little ditty in her good old fashioned way
And I'd give the world if she could sing that song to me this day

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don't you cry
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that's an Equish lullaby.

"I wish my sister was here, too," Tyr murmured, nestling into Cadence’s side as sleep claimed her.

Moments later a flare of magic snapped every unicorn’s attention to Twilight's room. As quickly as it had appeared it vanished. All eyes turned to Celestia, whose only response was a small smile touching her lips.

"It seems Twilight and my sister have taken their leave. I imagine they will not return until the morn." Celestia gazed down on Tyr with an unreadable expression.

"The poor thing," Fluttershy said as she slowly crossed the room, a blanket tucked under a wing. "She's had a short, stressful day," she added before draping the blanket over Tyr. She started back towards her friends before looking over her shoulder at Celestia, lightly chewing on her lip, as she gathered the courage to ask the question on everypony’s mind. "Princess, what she said earlier, about, um, how you, um, punish ponies. You've never done that, right? I-I mean, n-not that I think you ever would, but..."

"She had seemed so certain," Celestia said, finishing Fluttershy's thought, receiving a meek affirmative. "No, I never have and I never would. But I know of a pony who would have."

"Oh... um... who? If, you don't mind telling us?" Fluttershy retreated further and further into her mane, everypony in the room slowly gathering around.

Celestia let out a weary sigh.

"A pony I am glad to have not seen in nearly two thousand years," was Celestia’s simple reply, turning a remorseful gaze down to the bundle between her and Cadence.

"What are we going to do about her, Auntie?" Cadence said, pausing in humming the tune of the lullaby, her wing pulling the slumbering alicorn filly closer.

Celestia had been thinking through her options, turning possibilities over, dismissing some and considering others. She had been ready for the arrival of three grown and awakened Alicorns. The possibility of one being a foal had only briefly crossed her mind the previous evening, but had been quickly discounted. She’d been prepared for the three to be wanderers, arriving on Ioka after countless ages. A filly had seemed almost preposterous in comparison.

She did know what she needed to do about Tyr, but the complications and problems would be many.

"Ordinarily, I'd say she needs to be fostered, much as Lady Sparkle and Lord Chaser fostered Twilight." Celestia gave an appreciative look to the them, as they stood there shuffling their hooves awkwardly.

"Your majesty, we love Twilight, and I wish I could tell you both the name of her real mother and—"

"Lady Sparkle, there is no need to apologise yet again, and you are her real mother. You will always fill that place in her heart, never doubt that."

"Um, Princesses, what's this 'fostering' thing ya'll are talking about?" Applejack pushed back the brim of her hat, a pensive look on her face. "And I ain't so sure I buy all this 'Twilight is an alicorn' stuff ponies been saying all evening."

"Fostering, dear Applejack, isn't that different from fostering any foal. The only difference is that magic is used to conceal the foal’s nature so that she may grow up as normally as any other pony. I was fostered, as was my sister and Cadence. They grow up just like any other foal, discover their special talent, and on their twenty-first birthday, they Awaken."

"That's why Twilight's always had dreams," exclaimed Rarity. Realizing her outburst, Rarity covered her embarrassment with a little cough. "I, um, I always thought she was just joking, or making up stories when she would come over for morning tea and talk about her latest dream. After all, we unicorns so rarely dream."

"Wait, you can't dream, Sweetie?" Apple Bloom gave her friend a perplexed stare.

Sweetie just shrugged. "Yeah, but it's not a big deal, really. Mom always says, 'you rarely miss something you've never had'. I'm not sure why other ponies make a big fuss about dreaming."

"It is a 'big deal'," Celestia came close to snapping, only barely managing to control her voice. She disliked talking about unicorns' difficulty dreaming, and quickly corrected the conversation's course. "But it is also nothing that can ever be changed, so we all live with the effects, as best we can."

"Now," She continued with hardly a pause, "Tyr here has clearly not been fostered. The obvious answer, to many problems, would be to foster her right away. But there is the small matter that the other two alicorns that arrived may be her parents."

"Whoa, hold up, there are two more?" Rainbow Dash gave a deadpan stare. "First Twilight, then her, and now more? I think I need something stronger than punch to drink."

"I put some hard cider in the back room, if that's more to your taste, Dash," Applejack said, smirking as Dash disappeared into the kitchen.

"So, what are you going to do then, princess?" Velvet Sparkle asked.

Before Celestia could respond, Fleur spoke up, saying, "I'll foster her," in a confident voice.

Dead silence rang through the room.

Clearing her throat, Rarity put a gentle hoof on her friend's shoulder.

"Darling, I don't think that is a good idea—"

"I agree with Rarity, and I am sorry Fleur. Tyr isn't going to be like a normal filly, even after being fostered. This is going to require a very deft hoof with foals, and the only one who has quite enough experience, and I mean centuries of it, is Cadence. She's foalsat for the nobility since... I can't recall when."

Cadence gave a soft laugh and rolled her eyes, while a brief flash of crushing sadness flickered across Fleur's face. "Since I discovered my special talent was showing and bringing out the love and kindness in other ponies, Auntie. That'd be... one thousand and twelve years ago, I think. Oh, how the Nightmare would storm through her palace cursing whenever she caught me foalsitting down in the village. I'd be happy to take care of Tyr. She already seems to think I'm her mother, after all. And Fleur, I'd love your help, if you want to give it." Fleur gave a weak affirmative as Cadence continued, "Oh, this is going to be fun! Just like taking care of Twilight all over again, right dear?" Cadence turned her head, giving Shining a gentle peck on the cheek.

"Yes, fun," he agreed, sarcasm lacing his voice as he remembered the magic flares of Twilight’s younger years.

"Good, now that we've settled that matter, I need to return to Canterlot. There are preparations for presenting Twilight to the nation, two more alicorns to find, and a wandering shade that needs containing. Good evening, every pony," Celestia said, her armour clanking as she stood and made her way out into the sunset.

Author's Note

It is strongly recommended reading The Longest Night after this chapter. Longest Night, though a precursor to Myths and Birthrights, is akin to a chapter 4.5. There will be mentions and references to the events of that story in Chapter 5 that could be confusing otherwise.

Book One: Chapter Five: The Morning After

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book One: Awakening and Arrivals
Chapter Five: The Morning After

The first thing Twilight became aware of was the headache. It was larger than the entire Canterlot Royal Archives and the Manehattan Regional Library combined. Groaning about insects scuttling between the floorboards, Twilight rolled off her bed and onto an equally pained Luna. The princess let out a thousand year old oath as Twilight fell on her, reaching for Spike’s basket, which she’d been using as a pillow, and scrunching her eyes tight to ward off the rays of light poking through the curtains.

“P-princess Luna?” Twilight stuttered, her thoughts too muddled with pain, sleep, and the last lingering traces of the most potent wine in all of creation. “What... How... Where did,” Twilight’s voice hitched as a particularly strong throb of pain struck and Twilight found her stomach making an unpleasant series of twists and knots.

Holding back a cry, Twilight turned and dashed into the bathroom and proceeded to empty what little contents her stomach held into the waiting toilet. Twilight hovered over the porcelain seat for what felt like hours, sparkling mane streaming into her eyes and a dull wet sheen of sweat making her coat itch and prickle. When her insides finally stopped rebelling, Twilight shuffled into the shower and washed away the feeling of dirt and shame.

As she recovered in the shower, her mind wandered back to the previous day and evening. It all seemed like a dream. She wouldn’t have believed that any of the events had happened, if not for the wings. The corner of Twilight’s face twitched with annoyance as a wing lashed out and knocked all her shampoos and conditioners off a ledge.

It would take some time to get used to having two new appendages. Understanding she had much to learn didn’t stop Twilight from groaning every time a wing did something she didn’t intend. At least her magic hadn’t changed, except for the depth of her pool.

“Huh?” Twilight muttered, her eyes closed as she lathered her mane.

Being able to sense and inspect their magic pool was crucial and second nature to most magical creatures, doubly so for unicorns. The most basic lessons taught in magical kindergarten were how to visualize the magic pool and avoid magical exhaustion. Twilight had the habit of checking her reserves every time she closed her eyes. With the headache and the few fragments of memory floating up in her thoughts, Twilight at first thought she was suffering from magical exhaustion and expected her magic pool to be depleted. Instead, she couldn’t even see a bottom to her pool.

No, Twilight corrected, it wasn’t that her pool had no bottom; rather it connected to other pools through spidery threads. Along the threads Twilight could feel the ebb and flow of magic as it ran both to and from her pool. Biting on her lower lip, Twilight took one of the thickest threads and began to follow it. Lights began to spring up from a backdrop of endless black. Through both sets of vision, gazing on her pool, and her new Alicorn senses, Twilight could see the threads connecting to the stars.

Mistress, you’re back, came the jubilant call of many thousands of voices.

Twilight flicked an ear and ‘looked’, her eyes still closed to avoid getting shampoo in them, towards the source of the voices. High above Twilight could sense the stars watching her. The sensation made her skin crawl a little.

“Gah, do you girls have no sense of privacy?” Twilight snapped, her eyes opening. “Ow!” Twilight slammed her eyes closed against the stinging lather.

We were worried, admitted Polaris. We knew you arrived there just fine, but got concerned you might overshoot your return.

You mean ‘you’, Hun, laughed Brachium, You should have seen Polaris, Mistress. She was all, ‘Oh dear and woe is us, we gone and done it now. She ain’t our mistress more than five minutes and we be catapulting her across time.’

Twilight could see through her closed eyes, the roof of her home, and blue morning sky, Polaris take on a deep pink blush.

I said nothing like that. Polaris pouted, the star wriggling back and forth a little like a foal with her hoof caught in the cookie jar.

Uh-huh, no, you were far worse. I thought we’d have to get Sirius to calm you down, honey, ‘scept she’s off Selene knows where.

Twilight ears perked up, flicking a little spray of water.

“What do you mean? Sirius is missing?” The first hint of panic was already creeping into her voice. Only one thought circulated in her head, ‘I’ve already lost one of the stars, and she’s the brightest star of them all! I am the worst Alicorn ever.’

You’re not the worst alicorn ever. Regulus scoffed. That honour goes to Luna.

“What do you mean?” Twilight asked, applying her conditioners. “Sure, when she was the Nightmare, she—”

Hun, I’m going to have to stop you before you defend her. Brachium shook from side to side, dimming a little in anger. Nightmare Moon was twisted, evil, and a sadistic tyrant. If you knew what she did to us, to you, to our missing sisters, you would not defend her.

Gulping, Twilight asked, “She was that bad? I know Celestia white-washed history concerning Luna...” Twilight’s voice trailed off, uncertain where to carry the train of thought.

She didn’t want to defend the Nightmare’s actions, but at the same time, Luna wasn’t that mare anymore. Luna was trying to repent and make amends. Twilight was also keenly aware that she didn’t know all the facts surrounding the War of the Sun and Moon. Very few books recorded the events of the war, and those that did almost all existed in private collections belonging to the ancient Houses. Of those, many had been lost, destroyed, or decayed away, their precious knowledge lost to the ages. Unless Celestia or Luna told her, Twilight wasn’t certain she’d ever know the events of the war.

It is probably best that it remain history, Polaris said, her voice filled with uncertainty and apprehension. Luna isn’t the Nightmare, anymore, as you point out, mistress, and she’s still the Shepherd of the Night. She’s also your friend.

The other stars grumbled at Polaris’ assertion.

A sharp knock on the door, followed by Luna’s voice, brought Twilight back down to Equestria with a whump, landing in a soggy mess in the bottom of the shower.

“Twilight, are you alright in there? I heard you talking to somepony.”

“Um, yeah,” Twilight called through the door as she stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel with her magic. “I was just speaking with a few of the stars.”

Luna was silent for a few moments, then asked carefully, “They were still awake?”

“Yes?” Twilight hesitantly replied, then turned her attention back to the stars, “You were awake, right?”

Some of us were awake, waiting for your return. Polaris hedged, the slight hitch to her voice telling Twilight the star was leaving something out. But, no, most of us were already asleep.

And quite soundly at that, might I add, snorted Regulus, the star gaining a chorus of agreement and support from her sisters. If there is nothing more, I would love to get some sleep. Sol can get rather cranky, especially with the stunt we pulled yesterday. Best to let her calm down some.

“Twilight?”

“Um, yes, sorry, I’ll be right out,” Twilight called, wrapping her mane and tail and hanging the remaining towels to dry.

Talking to the stars, her stars, Twilight smiled at the idea. She wasn’t so sure how it worked. Each was clearly an individual, with her own thoughts and motives, yet tied to her. Twilight would ask Luna and Celestia about it when she got a chance. They were both tied to the moon and sun respectively; maybe they could give her some more guidance. Luna had given her a little bit, then the whole Wish thing had happened and... Twilight knitted her brows together trying to think about the previous evening as she swung the door open.

Calling it a fuzzy blur was an understatement. She could clearly remember hearing Celestia’s voice echoing among the stars, then a rush followed by a fall, waking in a tent, and then... the most wonderful taste. But events quickly grew disheveled and confused. For instance, Twilight kept thinking that Celestia had spent the evening talking in middle equestrian, which was foolish. Luna had spoken in middle equestrian for a while after her return, but three years of speech therapy and living among modern ponies had softened her archaic vocabulary and syntax.

Twilight came out of her thought as she looked on the Princess of the Night. Luna had a thin smile touching her lips, like she knew something that Twilight didn’t. Which was more than true, Twilight internally grumbled. Luna was the better part of eighteen hundred years old, counting her exile, and knew many things Twilight could barely begin to comprehend.

What really bothered Twilight was how spry and refreshed Luna looked. Twilight could swear that Luna had been there with that wonderful, wonderful drink. She had no right to look so pleasant when Twilight felt like another anvil had just landed on her head.

Twilight opened her mouth to say as much, then snapped it shut before asking instead, “Luna, I don’t understand. If I am the Stars, then why are each also individuals?”

“Didn’t we explain this last night?” Luna tilted her head to one said, a perplexed frown on her face for a moment before it was broken by a light laugh. “No, I believe we were well into the third bottle of Moonshine Wine by that point.

"Think of yourself not so much ‘the Stars’ themselves, but rather as their caretaker. They are part of you yes, and you them, but you are also separate as well. Sol and Selene existed long before either Celestia or I, but both said they felt completed and whole after our births. I don’t think there is a good way to explain it, but it is something that I am sure you can already feel on an instinctual level.”

Twilight thought over Luna’s explanation, and knew it was right. It’d be nearly impossible to explain to the girls, it needed to be experienced. ‘Maybe this is what a Hydra feels like,’ Twilight thought with a slight chuckle, ‘a Hydra with over six thousand heads.’ Except, Twilight was in charge and responsible for the stars, while each head of a Hydra was theoretically equal. No pony was certain, though as studying Hydras wasn’t something any pony had thought to do in a long time. The last pony to try didn’t survive long enough to share her findings.

Pushing the thoughts back to be analyzed later, Twilight followed Luna out into the library’s main room. There they found over a dozen ponies strewn about in sleeping bags or on couches and cushions in various states of sleep. A couple blinked open sleep encrusted eyes, while others, namely Pinkie Pie, lay on their backs, legs splayed and snoring softly.

“Twilight, you’re awake,” Cadence stated with a smile from where she lay, a wing wrapped around small, sleeping bundle, then to Luna she added in a cooler tone, “Good morning, mother.”

“Morning, heart of my night,” Luna responded, the hopeful saprano of her voice cut down to a hurt tenor as Cadence gave her head a sharp shake and disapproving not-glare to Luna.

The tension between the two princesses hung like clinging mist in the air, making Twilight shift uncomfortably. Cadence had been a constant in her life, almost like a fifth mother, and Twilight knew her to have a gentle, forgiving spirit. What had happened to prevent both the stars and Cadence from forgiving Luna? The question made Twilight ponder what other events or ponies had been deliberately hidden or altered by Celestia and Cadence.

Clearing her throat, Luna brought Twilight out of her thoughts, asking, “Who do you have there?”

Twilight was startled to see and feel the glowing energy beside Cadence, a presence similar to the princesses, but somehow unrefined or undirected. Hunting and seeking a purpose it knew was almost within its grasp but would slip through its hooves if it tried to grab a hold. Gingerly, Cadence withdrew her wing, and Twilight got her first look at Tyr. Twilight’s mouth fell open, and if it had been possible—or if she was Pinkie—it would have hit the floor and bounced beneath a bookshelf.

“So, they are fillies?” Luna asked, her relieved voice making other ponies stir. “Or is it just this one? I do not feel the presence of the other two, so?”

“Auntie Tia has gone back to Canterlot to see if she can locate the others, and that shade that attacked the two of you,” Cadence said, her wing again covering Tyr.

“’Others’? Who or what are you talking about?” Twilight tried to keep her voice down, but still managed to disturb Fluttershy and Applejack.

“Whatever y’all are jabbering about, could you keep it down? Some ponies are trying to sleep.” Applejack rolled over as she grumbled, throwing a hoof over Fluttershy’s withers before pulling the startled Pegasus close like a stuffed toy. Fluttershy gave a little whimper, but didn’t struggle against Applejack. After a couple moments, Applejack’s head shot up, “Hey, wait, yer back?”

Twilight quickly found a pair of powerful legs wrapped around her neck.

“Landsakes, where’d you two go off to? Pinkie and Cadence told us about that smoke-thing, and how Peewee saved y’all, then Celestia said you had to go somewhere or some such.” Applejack gave Twilight a single tight squeeze, before pushing the alicorn back a little to get a good look at her. “Wow Twi,” Applejack breathed, her eyes fixated on Twilight’s mane, occasionally flickering to Twilight’s new wings. “I don’t think I really believed it till now. You really are an Alicorn and Princess.”

Before Twilight could fully form a response, the most obvious being, ‘Yes, now please let me have some space,’ Twilight felt three more bodies wrap themselves around her as excited voices began demanding answers or just babbling. Loudest of the four was Pinkie Pie.

“Oh, wowie! This is so neat. I knew it was going to be neat, but this is like super-duper-extra neat-o-rific! Ooo, your mane is so sparkly. Twilight Sparkle with the sparkling mane, Heh-heh-heh.” Pinkie’s voice dropped in pitch as the party pony dunked her head into Twilight’s mane. “This is like swimming in spearmint!” Pinkie giggled, pulling her head from Twilight’s mane.

Cheeks burning a deep red, Twilight tried to calm her friends while fighting for breath. She wondered for a moment if it was possible for an alicorn to suffocate. It certainly must be possible. She had flesh and bones, had to sleep still, and all the rest, so she certainly needed to breathe.

“Girls, um, girls, I think you’re crushing her,” Fluttershy murmured, poking both Applejack and Pinkie on the flank in an attempt to gain their attention.

Sighing, Luna’s horn lit with magic, the four mares that had piled atop Twilight lifting up in a soft silvery-blue glow. Eyes spinning, Twilight choked out a brief ‘thank you’, before climbing back to her hooves and giving each of her friends a more sedate hug. With all the commotion, everypony had woken, and Twilight found herself in her brother’s hooves, then her father's, and then she was in front of Velvet.

“Mother,” Twilight said stiffly. Thoughts drifting back to the hazy events of the previous night—or the night a thousand years ago depending one’s point of view—and watching Celestia and Luna make amends, Twilight felt much of the sharp anger burning in her breast fade a little. She was still hurt, but her body didn’t tense and she managed to lean forward and give Velvet an awkward embrace. Twilight didn’t know if things could go back to the way they had been, but she knew better than to hold onto that anger and pain.

“I’m sorry I can’t tell you the things you wish to know,” Velvet whispered as she gently stroked Twilight’s mane in the same manner she had when Twilight had been a filly and crawled into Velvet’s bed after a bad dream.

“It’s okay, I think I understand,” Twilight responded, tears pooling in her eyes but not running down her cheeks. “I mean, a geas is a pretty extreme measure, and I think I am madder that I can’t really be mad because of it.”

For a few moments, Velvet’s mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping on a dock. Giving up on trying to word what she wanted to say, Velvet gave Twilight another hug, then said, “I never wanted to see you hurt, my little star. Though, I guess you aren’t just my little star now, are you?”

“Well, from what I gather I’m not really—“

“Yeah, yeah, mystical alicorn stuff,” Dash interrupted, waving a dismissive hoof before jabbing Twilight in the chest. “Okay, spread ‘em. I want to see what we’re going to be working with.”

Twilight blinked a couple times, and thought she did rather well when she came out with the very intelligent response, “Huh?”

“Your wings. As your best friend I claim rights and dibsies on teaching you how to fly.” Dash puffed out her chest, then a momentary look of worry crossed her face. “You didn’t get magical knowledge of how to fly, did you?”

“I... uh, I’m not sure?” Twilight offered, rubbing the back of her head while she looked to Cadence and Luna.

“Don’t look at me,” Cadence said with a half-grin, “I was raised as a Pegasus. Even then I was being tutored in the other races magic, even if I couldn’t use them yet.” Cadence followed this statement with a dark glare at Luna.

Blushing furiously, though it was hard to see with her dark coat, Luna said, “I wasn’t exactly in what one could call a good frame of mind at the time. To answer your question; no, you don’t gain sudden magical knowledge of all your magic. Much like I’ve been teaching you how to access and use your Alicorn Awareness, you’ll have to learn how to use Earth and Pegasi magic. You’ve progressed remarkably fast so far. I never expected you to answer a Wish on your first night and take us back in time a thousand years. That was a pleasant surprise.”

“Wait,” Spike piped up from where he and the Cutie Mark Crusaders sat. “You went back in time a thousand years?”

There was a general murmur of surprise and confusion from the gathered ponies, and a few awed gasps from the younger ponies. It was Twilight’s turn to blush as she grumbled, “I wasn’t trying to answer it or anything. I just heard it, got curious, and one thing lead to another.”

“You can answer Wishes?” three, far too innocent, voices asked as one.

Twilight’s eyes grew wide as the three crusaders appeared directly in front of her, grinning with the broadest smiles imaginable. Pinkie Pie would have had difficulty wearing a smile like the ones the crusaders sent up at Twilight. And the eyes! They were like six obsidian orbs that pleaded directly to Twilight’s heart without the need of sound. Twilight felt a stab of absolute wretchedness, and she had yet to crush their young hope.

Thankfully, she was saved having to be the one to destroy the crusaders’ unspoken idea by Luna.

“I’m afraid Wishes don’t work in the way you believe. You’d have to wish upon a falling star. Then your need or desire would have to be strong enough that the other stars could hear it. And then a star, or stars, would have to take it and hold onto your wish until they shared it with Twilight. I only ever granted four wishes during the many centuries that I watched over the stars.”

Twilight took back her silent thanks to Luna a moment later as the full weight and guilt of the crusaders’ crushed ideas crashed into her.

“You mean you can’t grant us our wish to have our cutie marks?” Sweetie Belle sniffled.

‘Those three should be classified as non-lethal weapons,’ Twilight thought to herself as she prepared to support Luna.

Again, she was saved by a timely intervention.

“Now, girls, what have Applejack and I told you time and time again?” Rarity gave her sister a long disapproving glower.

“We’ll get our marks eventually, we just have to be patient,” the three intoned together.

“That’s right. Ain’t nothing that can make a cutie mark come before its time.”

“Besides, trying to force a wish can be very dangerous.” Luna said, her tone terse and grave. “I did so once, and only once. The results were corrupted and twisted.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, forcing wishes are bad.” Dash interjected, rolling a hoof in a ‘let’s get this going’ motion, “Now, Twilight, can you please spread your wings?”

“Alright, fine, if it makes you happy, Dash.”

It took Twilight several attempts to figure out how to move the new muscles. Her wings kept twitching or shooting out only to flump onto the floor. Scrunching her eyes shut, Twilight finally heard the gathered ponies gasp as she flared her new wings. Twilight herself didn’t dare look, too afraid that if she did she’d lose control again. Similarly, it took her a few false attempts to close them again.

“Okay, yeah, that’s a lot of wing to work with,” Dash said, her eyes already going distant as dreams and images of racing one of her best friends danced in her head.

“’A lot to work with’? Dash, those wings are simply, and you will all have to forgive me here, but they are divine. Why, the way they flow, and the shading of the tips…” It was Rarity’s turn to descend into her imagination as dresses, fabrics, and colour schemes began to take shape.

“So, does this mean you’re a princess now, Twilight?” Apple Bloom asked, her question sending a stab of panic deep into Twilight’s already anxious chest.

“Why would she want to be a princess? She’s a Goddess.” Tyr’s small head poked out from beneath Cadence’s wing, a perplexed look pinching her brows.

“That is precisely why it is better to be a princess.” Cadence chuckled. “Even as a Princess, ponies will pray to you. In the last few minutes I’ve heard almost a dozen prayers in my name asking for blessings in a pony’s love life. Imagine how many more that would be if I was the Goddess Cadence, rather than just Princess Cadence.”

“Wait, are you saying every time we say your name you can hear us?” Comet Chaser asked, looking a little green as his mind invariably went back to every time he’d used one of the princesses names, some in rather compromising situations.

“Not precisely. And not just hear, but also see. It has to be a prayer, though. You can say our names until you’re blue in the face and it won’t do anything.”

“Twilight, did you know about this?” Rarity asked, a tremor of concern in her voice.

“Well, yeah,” Twilight blinked a few times, taken aback by the frightened and scandalized looks all her friends and father were giving her. “It was one of my first lessons with Celestia, I, uh, had a habit of praying while studying.” Her cheeks burning hot enough that water would vanish on contact, Twilight quickly said, “Celestia taught me to only pray if I was in trouble.”

“It was the same when I used to foalsit you,” Cadence said, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “It was so cute and distracting the way you scrunched up your face as you prayed.”

Applejack and the other Elements of Harmony all shared a series of giggles as Twilight’s face burned a deep maroon. Giving an exasperated snort, Twilight tried to think of a new way to explain it to her friends. Rainbow Dash waved her off, the pegasus giving a little chuckle.

“I think we all get it that if we ‘pray’ to you, you’ll be able to spy and eavesdrop on us.”

“Oh my, and if everypony always thought of you as a Goddess, and they could get your attention with prayers... How does Celestia manage with so many ponies praying to her every day?” Fluttershy gave a sympathetic shiver as she thought about hearing the voices of hundreds or thousands of ponies all the time.

Luna gave a light chuckle. “You learn to tune it out and listen for the important voices, like Twilight’s or those of the Elements of Harmony.”

A little perturbed that her question about Twilight being a princess still hadn’t really been answered, Apple Bloom repeated it.

“Well, that is… complicated,” Cadence laughed, her clear voice making the assembled ponies smile as a wave of warmth washed over them. Shining slid a little closer to his wife, gently nuzzling her while Comet threw a leg around Velvet and pulled her tight against his chest. “Auntie and I have been putting a little presentation together. A ceremony to introduce Equestria, as well as the rest of the disc, to Twilight. But, as for her being a princess? Until yesterday, we thought she must be, but now…” Cadence sighed, glancing towards Tyr.

“Huh?” Apple Bloom tilted her head, confusion dancing across her amber eyes. “I thought all the alicorns were princesses.”

“Not… exactly,” Twilight gave a patient smile. “Until Tyr, all the known alicorns were part of Equestria’s royal family. I am not… Am I?”

The question was directed at Luna and Cadence, to which Luna, after a very slight hesitation, said, “It is... possible, though unlikely.

“Tia hopes you are a daughter of the Namegiver, and our sister, and though that would be wonderful, I have my doubts. Nopony has even seen her since Equestria was formed.” Luna grumbled, snapping her tail in annoyance as she added, “She is very good at hiding.”

No sooner had Luna spoken, then Twilight’s gramophone began playing a bouncy, snappy tune.

Pinkie, her eyes shining and her back hooves already moving to the beat, yelled, “This party’s already late enough, let’s get dancing,” before grabbing Shining, and spinning the stallion into the Charleston Trot.

“Hey, that’s my husband,” Cadence said, feigning anger as she bumped Pinkie aside. “Find your own partner.”

Twilight didn’t have time to blink before Pinkie replied, “Okie doke,” took Rarity by the hoof, and pulled the yelping unicorn into the middle of the library. Within moments everypony had joined in, forgetting the somber mood in favour of the long overdue celebration.

The filly danced and ran between Gilda's legs, a constant stream of laughter and giggles trailing in her wake.

"What about Blue Skies?" Blinka asked, her voice tight and strained as she leaned against her cousin for support. "Is your name Blue Skies?"

"Nuh uh," the filly called back as she dove after a butterfly flitting from flower to flower. "Not ma name too."

"You do have a name, don't you?" Gilda barked. She'd grown tired after hours of treading across the dusty Zebrican plains. Ever since the filly had woken up it had been a constant guessing game about her name. Everything from Sunny Skies to Dew Drops and Buck Finley had been tossed at the filly, and each time the response was the same.

"Nope!" the blue terror responded as she started to chase a meerkat and warthog that had been silently watching the trio pass. After a few moments she turned around, and, with her head held proudly in the air, cantered back to the two griffons. "No name. Mama said I have no name."

"What kind of a mother doesn't name her foal? I thought all ponies went to those Temple of Names for some sort of ceremony thing to learn their foals names." Gilda stared down at the filly as she began to skip and run on the spot.

"I dun know why. Just no name."

"Well, that can't fly," Blinka said giving a little laugh that turned into a hacking cough.

Gilda winced at the wet sound and the slight red spackle on her cousin's beak. Blinka had been slowly but steadily getting weaker. The crash had to have caused some internal wounds, but the younger griffon was too proud or stupid to tell Gilda what. Every time Gilda asked the answer was the same, that she was to flap off and mind her own health or watch the filly. From where the two griffons touched Gilda could feel her cousin shiver, despite the oppressive sun beating down on them.

"Let's rest here for a bit," Gilda muttered, helping Blinka to lay down in the shade of a Mopane tree.

Far off in the distance a hazy rise could be seen, the first indication from the ground of Mount Kiligriffjaro and Southstone Spires. Gilda had flown up a couple times the previous day to sight the solitary mountain and make sure they were still heading towards it and not walking in circles. At times Gilda swore she could see the sun glinting off the copper domed roofs.

"Come here, little one," Blinka said when she'd been settled. The young griffon could hardly hold up her head, yet she still gave the filly a wide smile. "You need a name, don't you?"

"I guess," the filly responded curling up next to Blinka.

"Well, you're going to be a warrior, right?"

"Yup! Like you and Gilly!" Jumping back up the filly began running in tight circles making 'whooshing' and roaring noises.

"Yes, like me and... and Gilly."

Gilda shot her cousin a glare at the use of the silly nickname.

"So, you need something strong... strong and fast," Blinka wheezed. "How about Zephrous?"

"Nuh uh." The filly violently shook her head.

"What about Sirius, for the star of battle?"

Snorting, Gilda teased, "May as well call her Gal—"

"Don't even finish that sentence, cousin," Blinka scowled, then returned her attention to the filly.

She sat there, calmly watching the two griffons, her head a little askance and her eyes wide with innocence.

"I got it, Talona. It means 'Avenger of the Skies' in old griffese."

The filly seemed to consider the name, then she smiled and nodded vigorously.

"Right Talona it is. I'm glad that's finally over," Gilda huffed as she laid down beside Blinka and slowly closed her eyes. Her eyes had only been closed a few minutes when something small and warm began to wriggle it's way in between the griffons. Sighing a little in frustration, Gilda made a small space for the newly named filly.

Sleep, if it came at all, didn't last long before Gilda was jerked awake by the sounds of heavy bodies landing. In an instant she was on her paws and alert, eyes darting to find threats and claws ready to end any she found. Around the tree, dozens of other griffons were landing, and many more filled the sky overhead. Gilda silently cursed herself for a fool. Of course other survivors of the battle would make their way back to the aerie. She was surprised that they hadn't been overtaken by the army's remnants earlier.

Every griffon showed signs of injury and fatigue, wrapped in blood soaked bandages. Very few showed minor wounds, much like the scrapes and bruises Gilda had acquired. Almost none were completely unharmed.

A griffon in the gold trimmed armour of an officer landed next to the tree, making Gilda snap upright and to attention. Quickly, she stepped to the side to hide Talona from view. She didn't know what the other griffons would do, precisely, but she was sure that, unless she entered the aerie with Talona, the glory would be stripped from her.

"Well, well, well, what have we here? A pair of deserters?"

Gilda's blood ran cold at the officer’s tone and words. If they were believed to be deserters, which Gilda didn't think they were, then losing the glory of discovering Talona would be the least of her worries.

"No sir, not deserters. We were making our way back to the aerie with..." Gilda's voice trailed off as she realised her mistake too late.

"With? With what, precisely? Speak."

The officer snarled, his beak pulled back in a grimace while his claws teased the ground. Knowing there was no way to avoid Talona being discovered. At the very least the filly would be found when a medic went to check on Blinka, who was still asleep. Resigned, Gilda stepped aside and gestured towards the small blue bundle of fur and feathers.

"A pegasus?" the officer sneered. "I hardly think bringing back one little meal is worthy of deserting your flock mates."

"Not a meal, you featherbrain," Gilda snapped, the fatigue and aches in her body making her already short temper razor thin. "Take a look," she added as she swept aside Talona's mane to reveal the filly's horn.

"By the first egg," the officer breathed, his eyes wide as saucers and beak falling open. "You, get the general this instant. She'll want to see this," the officer said to a nearby griffon, and then to Gilda added, "This better not be a trick to save your neck."

Gilda just smirked as they waited for the general to land.

In a flurry of dust and feathers, the large older griffon in charge of the army landed with a thud. A bandage covered half her face and a chunk of her beak was missing. Her one good eye drilled into the assembled griffons as she stalked forward, ignoring both Gilda and the officer as they tried to speak and claim finding the filly. With a sweep of her claws the general got a good look at both Talona's horn and her wings. Clicking her tongue, the general looked towards Blinka, then called over her shoulder for a medic.

"You, soldier, where and how did you find this pony?" the general asked as a medic hurried forward with a medicine pouch to examine Blinka.

Standing at attention as she'd been trained, Gilda recited her name, number, and rank, again as she'd been trained, before explaining how the filly had been inside the fireball that had devastated both armies. The general listened impassively to the explanation, asking for clarification of a few points.

"You did good soldier. You are one of the few survivors from the vanguard, and that alone makes you worthy of praise, whether it was luck or skill that guided your wings." To the medic, the general then asked, "What of her?"

"She is slowly dying, general. We could save her, but her wing has already begun to set. She won't fly again."

"A pity," the general murmured, her voice heavy and her head hanging low. "Make her comfortable then return her to the earth."

"What?" Gilda snapped, her training breaking and her head swinging from the general to the medic, and the long ceremonial knife the medic pulled from his medicine pouch.

"No," she screamed, her voice waking Talona as she hurled herself towards the medic.

At the last moment the medic turned, Gilda's talons skipping off his beak before she bodily struck him. There was a flash of pain in her side followed by a heavy pressure entering the left side of her chest. Gasping, Gilda fell backwards crimson spraying from her beak. Turning her head slightly she saw a red pool begin to spread beneath her as well as the general's saddened look. Rolling her head back towards Blinka, Gilda called out to her cousin. She closed her eyes to avoid watching, but she couldn't avoid hearing Talona's shrieks of fear and calling for Gilda and Blinka.

"General? Should we save her?" The medic asked looking towards Gilda.

"No, she raised her claws against a Brother. She will return to the earth with her cousin." To Gilda the general then added, "I am sorry, Gilda. Know that your sacrifice strengthens the aerie and the Third Empire will rise thanks to you. Go to your next life in peace and may you be reborn as a hunter and not prey."

The griffons then turned one by one and took to the sky leaving Gilda to slowly drift off into a cold inky embrace.

Book One: Chapter Six: Bound

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book One: Awakening and Arrivals
Chapter Six: Bound

Tyr peered over the rim of the chariot as Canterlot came into view, a break in the scheduled clouds making the mountain city of marble and gold shine in the light of dusk, reflecting splashes of orange, violet and mulberry hues.

Built on a series of great, wing-like terraces and natural plateaus, Canterlot was very literally a city divided.

On the highest, overlooking all the others and Equestria’s heartland, sat Canterlot Castle, royal palace of the sister goddesses. Bridges and winding balconies were linked by thousands of stairs and pathways to the outer towers and structures with the grand central palace. The throne room shot off the northern section, alone and indomitable, filled with stained glass windows that showered coloured light on those inside beneath minarets of white marble and gold tops.

Utterly indefensible and impractical, Tyr decided, though beautiful and with an ethereal quality that suited a home for a goddess. Still, it was nothing like the sweeping open temples of the Citadel with its tiles of ruby-infused red clay. On a similar day, the Citadel would have shone like a beacon of light across much of the land.

Canterlot also lacked one very important feature. The city wasn’t a giant glyph created to repel invaders. If attacked, their would be no glowing dome of magic that could withstand a decade long bombardment, or the wrath of an alicorn. There weren’t even any catapults nor ballistae atop the short, stubby walls.

“Those are our apartments,” Cadence said, pointing over Tyr’s withers to a trio of low towers flush with the eastern wall.

Tyr snorted at the impracticality of the covered walkways linking the walls to the castle. It was as if the city planners never considered somepony attacking their creation as a possibility.

Except, did the city even need such things? Tyr glanced over to Princess Luna, the Moon Goddess sitting on her raised bench at the back her own chariot. With Luna sat Twilight and the wyrmling, the trio chatting amicably. The distance between the chariots was too great to hear anything over the rushing wind.

One of the many pieces of useful knowledge Tyr had gleaned was that Ioka possessed few alicorns. She’d already met almost all of them, with only one or two remaining. A world with so few alicorns… it boggled Tyr, and made her suspect that something must have happened to the others. Or perhaps Ioka was so backwards that it had utterly escaped attention.

Lost in her thoughts, Tyr didn’t pay attention as the chariot began its descent and landed on a wide grassy field in a crook of the castle’s western wing. She was snapped back to reality as the wheels struck soft ground, rolling to a gentle stop beneath a crimson awning.

“Well, here we are,” Shining said as he stepped down from the carriage, turning to help Tyr down and lend Cadence a polite hoof.

Tyr stiffened as her hooves touched the dew covered grass, noticing Celestia waiting in the shade of an awning. Through a smallish door an off-grey unicorn cantered out of the castle. Without looking up from the scrolls that hovered in front of his nose, he approached Celestia, giving her a differential bow as he reached her side.

“Is everything in place, Chronicle?” Celestia asked as she watched Tyr.

“As you specified, your highness,” the new pony said as he and the princess approached the chariots. From a set of saddlebags, he produced a set of papers and passed them to Cadence, not even bothering to introduce himself, nor acknowledge her presence with a bow, as was proper. “Lady Tyr was the daughter of one Captain Periwinkle Aegis. He and his common-born wife died in the shipwreck of the Mauretania last fall off the Crystal Coast. His will specified a request of his old academy friend providing for his daughter in the eventuality of his and his wife’s death.”

“I know you do good work, Chronicle, but how well will this hold up if it were investigated?” Cadence asked as she scanned the provided documents.

“It will hold against most scrutiny. To fully pierce the deception would require traveling to Equestria’s embassy in Hackney. That is where the late Captain Aegis was stationed.”

“Was there a Captain Aegis, though?” Cadence pressed.

“There was,” Shining confirmed. “He was in the same class at the Academy as me, and he and his wife did die when the Mauretania sank. But they had no foals. His nearest living relative is a grandmother that has dementia and lives in an institution for the elderly. It’s a solid enough cover.”

“Auntie?” Cadence turned to Celestia, looking for the princess’ opinion.

“I have the utmost faith in Chronicle’s work. He’s had to perform this sort of shell-game before.”

“Never with a goddess, though,” Chronicle grumbled. “If it were known to the other nations what you are attempting to hide right under their noses…” He shook his head a few times, muttering some low oaths. “And so many of them in the city for Lady Sparkle’s official presentation, too. It’s going to take a miracle to keep everypony oblivious.”

He then looked over to Twilight and Luna, taking in Twilight’s appearance twice, his mouth hanging open for a moment before audibly clicking shut.

“We’ll just have to make sure their attention is firmly planted on Twilight then.” Celestia gave a little smile and laugh, nodding as the mentioned pony approached. “How are you feeling, Twilight? I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to speak yesterday.”

“I’m… I’m not sure,” Twilight admitted, her wings ruffling as she spoke. “Excited, nervous, a little overwhelmed.”

Continuing to give a soft laugh, Celestia said, “It was the same for Luna and I. You’ll get used to it, however.”

“I won’t,” Spike huffed behind crossed arms, his stubby tail thumping the grass and little tendrils of smoke curling from his nostrils. “Next thing you know, everypony is going to have wings and horns.”

“Don’t be silly, Spike,” Twilight admonished, giving the drake a playful nudge. “Besides, I thought you liked the idea of spending a little time in Canterlot again?”

Grumbling to himself, Spike eventually admitted he did like the idea. “But, only if we aren’t here forever. I’d miss our Ponyville friends otherwise.”

“You shan’t be here all that long, I suspect,” Luna said, wearing the same smile as everypony else.

Everypony but Tyr.

As the adults, and drake, laughed and joked, she slid away from the group and watched them with unrestrained curiosity, fascinated by how the goddesses would so freely laugh and jest with mere mortals. Somepony said something particularly funny, as Shining tossed back his head and let out a deep, throaty laugh. It was a laugh vastly different than the one she was used to hearing.

“Something troubling you, my lady?” asked Chronicle, making Tyr jump.

“No… yes… I don’t know,” Tyr admitted, frowning. “It’s like… A dream. Not a bad one, but very… odd. She’s like… a nicer, younger Hemera.”

“And who is she?” Chronicle quietly lifted a brow, making Tyr’s mane prickle as she realised her mistake.

“She’s… nopony.” Tyr swallowed the lump that lodged itself in her throat at the lie.

“Ah, it is good to hear that ‘nopony’ goes around laughing as she disembowels others.”

“She doesn’t do that! Well… only as a punishment. And she certainly didn’t laugh!” Tyr protested, and then slapped her hoof to her face. “It’s not nice to trick ponies,” Tyr huffed, crossing her hooves, her small wings jittering.

Giving a very slight grin, one that could hardly be considered a grin at all and more a slight deformation to the corner of his lip, Chronicle agreed.

“Are you Celestia’s High Priest?” Tyr asked, looking up at the old unicorn.

He certainly didn’t look like a High Priest. There was a distinct lack of robes, and he wore saddle-bags stuffed with scrolls. While this last feature was common on initiates, no High Priest Tyr had ever met had carried their own scrolls.

“Oh, no. I am her seneschal.” When Tyr gave him a deadpan look, he elaborated, telling her about his role as the head of the palace staff and Celestia’s chief aide, helping to organize her days and making sure everything that needed to be done was properly attended.

“Why are they so… similar?” Tyr mused after Chronicle’s explanation was finished, more to herself than him.

“It not uncommon for ponies to appear alike. There are only so many combinations of coat and mane, afterall. Or, do you mean their similar energies?” Chronicle asked, giving a slight smirk as Tyr glanced up at him in surprise. “I may just be a unicorn, but I can feel the differences between the princesses well enough. To you, I imagine it is much stronger and clearer. If their natures are the same, as say, both represent Love, then, perhaps they feel the same as well.”

“Maybe,” Tyr conceded. “You’re pretty smart, for a mortal.” Tyr decided, giving her thoughts voice, and making Chronicle smile slightly.

“Perhaps,” he said as Cadence detached herself from the small group, and with Shining, approached Tyr. “Or, perhaps I’ve just seen and done more than you.”

Snorting, Tyr rolled her eyes at the presumption. “I’m over a hundred and thirty-five years old. I doubt you’re half my age.”

“No, I am not, ha-ha!” Chronicle’s eyes crinkled in mirth, before he nodded to the princess, saying, “Your Highness, you have quite a special one on your hooves,” before briskly trotting off into the palace.

“Did Chronicle just laugh?” Shining asked in shocked wonder, gazing after the seneschal. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him laugh before…”

“Are you ready, Tyr?” Cadence asked, her tone excited and friendly, ignoring Shining for the moment.

“For being fostered?” Tyr gulped, dread building in her belly.

She looked for an escape route, but everywhere she looked was either blocked off or led into the palace. If only her wings worked, Tyr silently cursed. Though, if her wings worked she wouldn’t have ever gotten into this predicament in the first place.

“Oh, no, not that.” Cadence shook her bouncy mane, amethyst eyes shining. “No, for dinner, and then, perhaps a bath.”

“Wait, what?” Tyr stopped looking for a path to freedom, and instead glanced up at Cadence.

For a brief moment, it was like being back home again, with her mother smiling down on her. The image quickly shattered. Superficial details like coat colour, mane, and essence aside, Cadence was nothing like Tyr’s mother. Cadence was… nicer, for one thing. She had yet to admonish Tyr, really. Or compare her failures to her sister’s successes.

“Dinner, and then a bath,” Cadence repeated, using a wing to lead Tyr into the palace.

Reluctantly trotting beside Cadence and Shining, Tyr looked around her new home. White marble everywhere gave her a sense of familiarity, as did the corinthian pillars. The busts of ponies in little alcoves were a little different, but only due to their mane styles. Under her hooves, red silk carpets muffled her steps, while magical chandeliers burned overhead, making the lattices worked into the ceilings dance.

It wasn’t long before they reached a section of the eastern wing where all the royal apartments were kept.

Pushing open a set of double doors, Cadence lead the way into a grand antechamber. There were a few benches, and a large piano beneath a high vaulted window. A smaller set of doors on the left lead into a bright sitting room, while ahead and to the right were more doors, presumably to the bedrooms. In the middle of the room sat a low table and benches that stood in stark contrast to the blue and gold decorating the rest of the room. Magic lingered in the air, making Tyr wonder if the room used to be in its present form.

“I see Celestia re-decorated while we were away,” Shining humorlessly laughed, confirming Tyr’s suspicions.

“Well, we’re going to need more room now.” Cadence grinned, approaching the table while pulling a cord that disappeared into the ceiling beside the entrance.

In short order, servants appeared to bring out plates of prepared food. Tyr sat stiffly, her own wings hidden beneath Cadence’s as the palace staff entered and left. It was a simple meal, in contrast to the palace, consisting of a salad, bread, and an orange juice of some sort.

A pleasant meal that was all too soon over.

Tyr was whisked through one of the adjoining rooms, confirming her suspicion that they were bedrooms, and into a large, ornate bathroom.

“I don’t really need a bath,” Tyr protested as she was lifted into the huge tub.

“All fillies say that,” Cadence replied, twisting a knob to send a cascade of water down a miniature waterfall and into the tub.

“No, really!” Tyr continued to protest as her head was put under the waterfall. Sputtering, she shook her drenched mane out of her eyes, adding, “Our lustre keeps us clean!”

She may as well have been talking to a wall, for all it benefited her. A wall with access to wonderful smelling soaps and a potion that filled the tub with bubbles. When it came time to dry off, Tyr began to beg for just a few more minutes soaking in the warm waters. Her little wings splashed happily, while she and Cadence entered into a little war that saw both dripping wet.

A knock on the door followed by a polite cough informed them that their time was over.

Once dry, Tyr was placed into a soft bed with large quilts the same colour as her coat. Settling down next to Tyr, Cadence asked, “How about a bedtime story?”

“A story?” Tyr looked up with expectant eyes. It quickly vanished, Tyr snuggling deep into her covers so only her nose poked out. “I don’t need a story.”

“Oh, you don’t, do you?”

“No, I don’t,” Tyr proclaimed, puffing up in her duck-down den. “I don’t need to be fostered either, whatever that is.”

Cadence laughed that easy, joyous laugh that was so different from Aphrodite’s harsh barking.

“Perhaps. To be honest, I’m not convinced myself that it is necessary. But the decision isn’t mine,” Cadence said, the hint of apprehension in her voice unmistakable. It, and the next words Cadence spoke, calmed some of Tyr’s fear. “I’ll talk to her, and Luna, about it.”

“She’ll go through with it,” Tyr mumbled, retreating further into her quilts. “If Celestia is anything like Hemera, nothing will change her mind.”

“Whatever happens, Tyr, Shining and I will help you through it,” Cadence said,

Kissing Tyr on the brow, Cadence wished the filly a good night filled with pleasant dreams, and then left the room, the door gently snapping shut behind her. Content and warm, Tyr snuggled down into her covers and drifted off into a pleasant sleep. Tomorrow, maybe, she could discover a way out of the palace to find her family.

“I’m still uncertain about this,” Cadence said, sitting with her aunt and mother in Celestia’s chambers.

Celestia felt a pang of regret at Cadence’s words. “You know why this needs to be done. My decision is final.”

Cadence seemed about to argue, then she deflated, her wings growing heavy with resignation. She looked out the windows, gazing in the direction of Tyr’s room.

“There must be another way,” Cadence pled, looking back to Celestia.

“Agreed, she isn’t a foal fresh into the world. We don’t know what effects this may have on her.” Luna’s imperious voice cut through the discussion. “I have grave concerns that we are leaping ahead too fast. If for no other reason, there are two more alicorns out there who may be Tyr’s true parents. Not to mention that shade. We have no idea how they are connected.”

Rather than directly answer Luna’s concerns, Celestia asked Cadence, “Do you believe there is another alicorn connected to Love?”

Cadence sat up sharply at the question, about to snap out a stern, ‘No’. She didn’t, however, much to Celestia’s relief and respect. Celestia’s coat prickled as Cadence expanded her essence, searching for another manipulating the tides of love that permeated the disc.

“No… If there was another alicorn of Love out there, I’d feel it, especially this time of year. And… I can’t. Whoever the others are, neither are Tyr’s mother, at least.” Cadence’s words clearly weighed heavy on her as her wings continued to droop, as did her head.

“What if we just used illusions to hide her?” Luna asked, taking a new tact. “We all use them, or other spells, to go among our little ponies as regular pegasi or unicorns.”

“No, that’s too impractical,” Cadence mumbled, rubbing her temples. “There are too many ways for a filly to accidently break an illusion, and she’d have to be the one to maintain a transmutation. Besides, such tactics wouldn’t solve the real problem, would they?”

“That’s correct.” Celestia let some of her own exasperation with the situation leak into her voice. “What if it were a couple decades, or more, before she found her talent? Luna, we both know what that can do to a filly. The toll it takes on the mind.”

Her upper lip curling, Luna snapped, “Don’t bring Namyra into this.”

“You know I’m right,” Celestia returned, her own lips pressed into a firm line.

“What happened to her has no bearing on this!” Luna snorted.

Letting her own irritation slip from her tone, Celestia said, “If she had been—”

“No!” Luna smacked a hoof to the floor, her presence becoming a cold, furious tempest. “The world is not the same as it was a millenia and a half ago.”

“It is not so different, either.” Celestia said around a low, resigned sigh. “Roving hordes of marauders have been replaced by scheming politicians. At least you know where you stand with raiders.”

“They are easier to deal with, as well,” Luna said with a whimsical huff. Glancing out the window to the horizon, she added, “At least there are few cabals now.”

“Things aren’t as dark as when we were young, Luna. You, of all ponies, know this. But, neither is the world a fount of light. Look how shadows claimed you, and almost Cadence as well. Or the past few years. Your return, Discord breaking free of his prison, Changelings invading Canterlot; these are but the incidents closest to us. There are wars out in the Old Kingdoms, and our combined lights are only just keeping things stable.”

Celestia watched closely as Luna tried to form another argument, only to stop, and look to Cadence for support. Cadence, for her part, was examining the weave of the rug as if by doing so she could divine an answer.

“You can not allow guilt to guide you blindly down this path, Tia,” Luna finally said, her tone no longer harsh, but conciliatory.

Celestia began to dismiss Luna’s concerns, but stopped. Memories she'd ignored for centuries battered at the walls of her mind in terrible flashes, moments more eternal than if they'd been etched in stone, choices, words... mistakes. Her shame bubbled and frothed as it had for centuries at the back of her heart. Greater, however, was her fear of failing again.

“But, surely, the four of us, if we include Twilight, can keep our eyes focused within and without?” Cadence asked, her hoof tapping on the legrest of her chair. “Won’t we be required to do so, regardless?”

“No, actually,” Celestia frowned, pulled back to the present by Cadence’s uncertain voice.

Luna added, “The spell acts as a ward, manipulating the strands of Fate and Destiny in subtle and confounding ways. She could be harmed, though not anything grievous. She could find herself in danger, but, no matter what, she will be protected until she came of age.”

“Fostered, she’ll be safe. Mother will see to it, I am certain.” Celestia spoke softly, but with a firm assurance in her voice.

“You have more faith that she’s out there than I,” Luna snorted, looking away from her sister and instead focusing on the fire burning in the room’s hearth. “The spell does the work, not her.”

“Will she really be safe, though?” Cadence gave a long sigh, looking up towards the fading day. “She—”

“We could debate this in circles for a century and get nowhere.” Celestia interrupted. “I will take the responsibility for this choice. Fostering is how we’ve always done things. She will have as normal a life as we can provide, with school, friends, and family. Within a year, or two, she will find her special talent. The fostering spell may end right there, or it may last until she reaches adulthood. Without fostering, she could be vulnerable for many decades, or centuries. Namyra was over two hundred years old when—”

Luna's sharp breath brought Celestia to a halt. The two sisters eyes met, the elder's gaze falling to the polished table.

"I won't let that happen again," Celestia said, her voice barely a whisper. "I can't."

Luna stared at her sister with tear stung eyes. "Tia? Look at me." Celestia didn't respond until Luna repeated herself, harder and sharper. Holding her gaze, Luna said, "You have to let it go, Tia. It wasn't your fault."

"I've told myself that a thousand times. It doesn't change that I let him into our home."

"And I left him alone to his own devices. We are not the same ponies we once were. We are stronger and wiser. We can protect her, Tia."

"Of course we can!" Celestia came back, her voice as resolute as ever. "But at what cost? She has already been denied most of her foalhood. Have you even looked at her? She's spent the last one hundred years as a filly, her only friends those like her. One hundred years old and she has no respect for any life that isn't immortal. If we do not do this, she will never grow to love our little ponies, they will forever by nothing but distractions, ants crowding her picnic." Cadence tried to speak up, but Celestia's gaze silenced her. "Friendship can not be taught, it must be learned. You, of all ponies, should know that."

Mother and daughter studied the table's wood grain, letting the the last of Celestia's words fade into silence. In the seconds that followed, Celestia’s posture relaxed, wings folding back to her sides as she settled back to her haunches.

“I will take no part in this…” Luna said, not looking up from the table.

“That is alright. I can do this alone. It is appropriate.”

Decided, Celestia stood and went to a cabinet. From it, she pulled a box older than the nation she ruled. Memories surfaced as the weathered box was lifted in her magic. Twilight discovering the box and asking about the many interlaced enchantments woven throughout the wood, preserving and protecting both it, and what was hidden within. Still just a filly, Twilight had been so frustrated that she couldn’t open it. But that frustration had been nothing next to her desire to know the spells used upon the locks.

Another memory, from a little over a millennia before, sitting down to open the box, a little pink newborn filly placed on a low bench before her. Cadence squirmed slightly in the ceremonial plum coloured swaddling. The sharp smell of overripe cherries permeated the air, while in the background, Luna pleaded with Celestia to not take away her daughter.

Celestia shuddered at the latter memory, tucking the box under a wing.

She said nothing more to her sister or niece as she left, her stride quick and determined. Celestia worried that her resolve would falter, that her heart would betray her before reaching Tyr.

It did not, however, and all too soon she was pushing open the door into Tyr’s bedroom.

Standing in the doorway, the doubt finally struck, pouncing like a cat upon Celestia’s resolve. Once done, there would be no going back, not until Tyr grew up. At least she would grow up, and no longer be stuck as a perpetual filly.

Knowing that did nothing to allay Celestia’s growing unease. It felt wrong, and that was not something with which she was accustomed. The filly sleeping peacefully before her was not her own. Tyr wasn’t even a distant relative. What right did she have to force such a decision on her?

“Mother, where are you? I could use your guidance now, more than almost any other time before,” Celestia whispered, careful not to wake Tyr. “Please, give me a sign that this is the right thing to do?”

As every other time for fifteen hundred years, Celestia received no answer.

The room was silent, save the ticking of a grandfather clock, as Celestia left the doorway and approached the bed. Placing the box on the end table next to Tyr’s bed, Celestia set her doubts aside.

She was doing what was best for Tyr.

Before doing anything else, Celestia cast a powerful sleeping enchantment. At least Tyr would not be aware or suffer through what was to come. It was only the barest of consolations.

With Tyr deep within the enchanted sleep, Celestia began to cast the fostering spell. Created before modern magic, the spell was more like a ritual comprised of five different magical matrices that worked in conjunction.

Snapping open the box, Celestia drew from within a bone needle and a pair of sheers. These she placed before her.

Golden circles filled with arcane formula hummed, slowly spinning around Tyr while Celestia picked up the needle and sheers. Above Canterlot, clouds formed and swirled in time with the glyphs below, the city becoming the eye of the storm. A single bead of sweat prickled Celestia’s brow as she worked the ancient magic, binding and drawing it together until it began to writhe and slide through the room with a life all its own. Motes of coloured light sparkled in the spell’s wake, leaving dancing tails hovering throughout the room. One by one, the colours faded until only shades of red remained as the spell reached the sleeping filly.

Tyr rose into the air, held aloft by ruby wisps. The room was unnaturally dark and foreboding with the magic flowing from the glyphs, a quiet hiss rippling to the corners like a drop of water burning on a stove. The torches gutted as if they were being snuffed. A golden thread flowed from Tyr, glowing like a second dawn, light spilling out of the tower and out into the night. Drawing the needle to Tyr’s withers, Celestia began to sing an ancient, sad melody.

Needle old as time,
Snare the threads of Fate.
Show what was meant to be,
Draw the spirit tight.

As Celestia’s voice rose, the needle passed through Tyr’s wings, trailing more of the ruby strands of aether, and drawing the golden thread. At the last stroke of the needle, Celestia lifted the sheers, placing their edges to the threads, and holding them there.

Scissors snip clean,
Cut the ties that bind.
Destiny unchanged,
See the day a-new.

A terrible emerald fire snapped through the room, seering the tips of curtains and the bedsheets as the scissors snapped shut, severing the gathered thread. Celestia staggered back as a wave of howling magic circled her, full of righteous anger. Then it was gone, a pulse from the needle tugging at the cut threads and pulling them within itself.

Heart remains the same,
Let her grow as she should.
Fate will restore what is bound,
Returned to her in time.
Returned to her in time.

The magic calmed, ruby and emerald aether fading into the night as Tyr slowly descended to her bed. Celestia tucked away the needle and sheers before she stepped forward to inspect her work. Tyr’s wings were gone, as was the shimmer of her coat, while her horn remained unchanged. Where her wings had been were angry, yellow scars bound by strands of red that pulsed in time to Tyr’s heartbeat.

“A unicorn,” Celestia whispered, letting out a breath she hadn’t been aware of holding, “that is good.”

Wrenching her gaze from the profane scars, Celestia tucked Tyr into the covers.

Retrieving the box, Celestia returned to Cadence and Luna. Her steps were slower, weighed down by guilt pressing upon her withers. She reminded herself that it was in Tyr’s best interest. But the words helped not at all. She couldn’t bring herself to look at her sister nor her niece as she pushed open the door to her room.

“It has been done,” Celestia stated as she returned her mother’s box to its place within her cupboard.

Turning her gaze to her family, she saw what she feared; disappointment.

“We know,” Cadence replied, her face downcast. If she were not an alicorn, Celestia suspected Cadence would have been crying. “We felt it as… It’s not right, auntie.”

Celestia opened her mouth, about to say, ‘It is how we’ve always done things,’ but the words wouldn’t come. Relying on the past alone was a terrible excuse, and she knew it. So, instead, Celestia repeated what she kept telling herself, “It was in her best interest.”

Maybe she’d believe it herself if she said it enough times.

Fleur stood at the gates to her manor, legs shaking in trepidation. She had known this encounter would come. It had been inevitable ever since she’d stormed out of her home. Hesitantly, she placed a hoof onto the stone path that led to Fancy Pants.

She recoiled as if stung, and turned to run away again, making it only a few steps before she stopped, trembling.

“This is silly,” Fleur growled to herself. “Je suis plus fort que ce.”

Returning to the gates, Fleur forced herself over the threshold. Eyes closed to preserve her determination, she walked the familiar path, hooves easily clicking over the loose stone at the base of the maner steps. A flick of magic opened the doors, and she was inside.

The entrance hall was dark and cold, the candles dead in their sconces, burnt down to nubs, rivulettes of wax forming rounded stalactites beneath the brass fittings. This was an empty home, bereft of more than just ponies. There was a longing silence that begged to be filled, making the manor cold and unwelcoming. Saddlebags deposited beside the door, Fleur glanced around. She quickly spotted the shards of the vase she’d hurled at Fancy during the arguments height still laying scattered and broken beneath the arch leading to the petite salon.

Lifting the largest of the shards, Fleur brought it to her hooves, tears welling in her eyes. Turning it over, she saw the partial smiling faces of herself and Fancy.

The vase had been a wedding gift from the Comtesse de Burgundy, commissioned from the famed painter Pinceau D’or. Fleur collapsed to her knees as a sob wracked her body. Reaching out, she picked up every shard and sliver that she could see. The gesture was futile; there were too many pieces missing, and even if she managed to find them all, she possessed no spell that could repair the damage done.

So, Fleur placed every fragment she could gather within a decorative plate upon a hall table. The last piece she placed was the first she picked up, positioning it so that the images of her and Fancy faced the door.

“My Lady?” A cultured voice asked from within the gloom, so close that Fleur jumped and spun with a gasp.

“Monsieur Key, don’t sneak up on me like that,” Fleur said as the head butler ignited his horn to place simple light spells along the wall. “Where is everypony?”

He was an older pony, and long been part of the manor, since before Fleur had taken residence as Prance’s Ambassador. As always, he wore his black jacket and bowtie, giving him a look of distinguished professionalism. Fleur did note the worn expression at the corners of his slate grey eyes, like he was both happy and exasperated at the same time. Perhaps she was imagining it, a trick of the poor light inside the manor. Fleur quickly decided that was the answer. Mr. Key was too professional to ever show his inner thoughts on his face.

“His Lordship is in the library, my Lady,” Mr. Key said, stepping forward to take Fleur’s bags and close the door. “He desired the staff to remain in the downstairs until your return. He became very animated when young miss Potts attempted to tidy the entry hall. I’m afraid this space was declared somewhat off limits. I hope the staff and I have your permission to resume our regular duties, my Lady?”

“Oui,” Fleur said, turning towards the petite salon, “Please see it is done.”

“As you wish, my Lady,” Mr. Key gave a slight bow, then added, “One more thing, a letter from the palace arrived day before last, bearing the Royal Seal. It is on your desk in the study.”

Fleur gave a little nod, saying, “Thank you, I am already aware of the letter and its subject.”

“Understood,” Mr. Key said in his dry voice before heading towards the stairs down to the servants quarters. After a few steps he stopped, looked back, and added, “It is good to have you home, my Lady.”

“It is good to be home, Monsieur Key.” Fleur closed her eyes, drinking in the old smells of the ancient manor, a hoof resting on an ancient wooden beam. The words were only a partial lie.

Leaving the entry hall, Fleur passed through the petite salon and grand salon, stopping in the open doorway to the library. She could make out the figure of her husband sitting in his old chair, the one with the stuffing falling out of the arms and the leather dry and cracked. A hoof dangled down to a side table, resting on the accursed doctor’s reports.

Again, Fleur wondered if it wasn’t too late to turn and run. She could go to Baltimare or Bolton, perhaps Halifax, and from there take passage back to Prance. It would only be the most cowardly act she could possibly commit. She’d be ruined, never able to show her face within either Equestria or Prance’s polite societies, but at least she wouldn’t have to face Fancy.

The desire was fleeting, possessing her for less time than it took her to step fully into the room.

Clearing her throat, Fleur spoke her husband’s name.

He stirred, letting out a low snort, an empty brandy glass falling to the thick marabian carpet with a clink. Moving around the chair, Fleur saw Fancy was in a deep sleep, his chin resting on his barrel in what had to be the most uncomfortable posture imaginable.

A long, rumbling snore escaped the stallion, his head rolling to the side as he muttered, “Fleur, please come home,” before a second snore filled the room.

“Oh, my dear beloved, I have been such the fool,” Fleur whispered, taking care not to wake Fancy.

Putting the brandy glass on the table, Fleur lifted her husband. She was momentarily shocked at how light he felt, placing little strain at all on her magic. The surprise was quickly brushed away, more pressing concerns on her mind. Tip-hoofing through the manor, Fleur brought Fancy to their bedroom. She met miss Potts near the stairs to the servants quarters, the young maid giving a joyous squeak when she saw Fleur, followed by a curtsy.

“Miss Potts, some assistance, if you please,” Fleur said as she looked up the stairs to the manor’s bedrooms, wondering how she’d manage to get Fancy up them on her own without banging him into a wall or railing.

“Of course, my lady,” the young earth pony said, taking the lead as guide.

Together, they maneuvered him to their shared room and laid him in the master bed. Fleur took a moment to thank miss Potts before instructing her to collect the vase’s shard. In the morning Fleur would see if a restoration specialist could repair the vase. Crawling into bed, Fleur wrapped her hooves around Fancy’s barrel and placed her chin in the familiar crook of his neck.

He shifted a little, finding a more comfortable pose and entwining a leg through her own. As he did, Fancy said, “I’m glad you’re home,” in a gentle rumble, kissing her just above the horn.

Fleur stiffened as if stung, her eyes widening and an almost imperciptible flutter in her heart.

Shifting her head, Fleur gazed up into Fancy’s eyes, and said, “I am so, so sorry, mi amour. For those terrible things I said. For running away. For being a coward.”

Fancy was silent as Fleur apologized, his face unreadable to anypony but her. She could see the swirling hurt and disappointment behind his sparkling blue eyes. Then he leaned forward, placing a soft kiss at the base of her horn, the touch sending an electric current through her body that left her dizzy and panting.

“You are not a coward.” The words, said with unmatched certainty, warmed her heart, banishing her fears like night before the dawn. “It is I who should apologize. I pushed you too hard. Even the finest steel can be broken if stressed enough.”

Fleur shook her head, reaching up to bring Fancy into a tender embrace. “Non,” she whispered as she took her turn to break the kiss, “I wanted a foal as much as you.”

“Aye, you do,” Fancy agreed, running his hoof slowly through Fleur’s mane. “But I was the one who pushed and pushed, dragging you to all those useless doctors, with their vile potions and devices. None of which are worth two bits.”

Fleur protested, exclaiming the fault was as much hers as his. That the idea originated with her in the beginning.

“I suppose it isn’t meant to be,” she finished with a sigh.

“There are other ways, you know.” Fancy spoke in a slow, musing way as he settled.

Both had said their apologies, and both hated the long back-and-forth of other couples. Repeating the same words over and over made them no more true. An apology was only the first step to making amends. It was a path that would have to be walked for months, or perhaps years. A journey Fleur knew she could easily walk.

“We could adopt, or foster,” he continued, oblivious to Fleur’s thoughts.

Fleur couldn’t help but laugh, not unkindly, as her mind flickered to the encounter in Ponyville and what was said in the town library.

“Oui, perhaps. Something to think about,” Fleur agreed as she closed her eyes and was lulled to sleep by Fancy describing their ideal foal.

The constant drone of rain pit-tap-tapping on his roof was Zubu's loudest companion, if a most inconsistent one. The old zebra had more, like the gentle flickering of a small fire in the center of his hut or the welcome heady buzz of the herbs in his pipe. Fire and Herb, as Zubu called them, were both more common than Rain, but not as common as Pain. Pain had been Zubu's companion the longest, as it so often liked to remind him. The only other of Zubu’s companions that could claim to have been with him as long was Orenda, though she was missing, off on one of her adventures, as was often the case.

At least Rain was back and, with Herb and Fire, had taken Zubu's attention away from Pain.

"I tell you Rain, it is good you are back," Zubu shouted up to his dripping ceiling, waving the pipe containing Herb a little wildly. "It has been a good fortnight since you last visited. Seen anything interesting?"

All around the zebra, droplets of water fell into precisely placed buckets, pots, and urns creating an almost musical din. Nodding his head to unspoken words, Zubu muttered, "Uh huh. No. You don't say? Scandalous! So the mayors daughter was caught in the granary with some young buck? Most wonderful! Oh, halloo and hurray!"

Zubu fell backwards off his small cot, his head striking an urn and tipping it over. In a hiss of smoke the fire was extinguished as both the laughing zebra and urn rolled across the floor. Jumping up to his three hooves, Zubu swore.

"Fire! I'm sorry! Are you okay, old friend? Fire?"

Zubu leaned his right side towards the remains of the fire. Dangling at his side, his right fore-leg tried to reach towards the wet soot. The elbow, fused in a right angle, couldn't move, and his mangled hoof hung limp and useless, a twisted mass of rolling black-white fur, dislocated bones and cartilage. Flipping the smothered fire with the crippled limb, Zubu shook his head sadly.

"Don't worry, Fire, I know how to breath you new life. Mm hmm, I do indeed. Yes, I do."

Leaning down, Zubu ran his good hoof through the soggy mess. A few syllables, growled in a low voice, accompanied the runes forming in Zubu’s mind. Sparks shot from his hoof, dancing across the sodden pit, relighting the few logs in a burst of orange.

"Ah, you're back, Fire? Where'd you go? Hmm… hmm?" Zubu smiled, rubbing the muddy mixture clinging to his hoof onto a rag . "Such wild and crazy antics you get up to every time you leave, Fire. Almost as bad as Orenda. Not like Rain, she is far more sensible. Just listen to her soothing song."

Zubu's eyes widened when he realised he could no longer hear the gentle pittering and pattering of rain striking leaves or his roof. In the hearth, the fire shrunk and gutted. Even the fuzzy warm haze surrounding Zubu's thoughts began to clear. Wrinkling his nose, the old zebra detected a peculiar scent on the tip of the wind. It was sugary, impossibly sweet, like over-cooked honey-berry pies.

It was a scent of magic.

The last of the clouds filling his mind vanished, Zubu spun and snatched up a long staff propped in a corner. Bones rattled and chimes sang as he leveled the staff using his mangled leg at the small door of hanging beads. Beyond the door he could see movement, a shape flitting through the thick trees and broad leaves that hid his hut.

All was silent. None of the incessant chirping of insects, nor the distant roars of the Great Apes as they battled over mates and territory, nor the song of birds drifted through the early morning gloom. The hackles along the back of Zubu's neck continued to rise. The smell was growing stronger. A quick shift of a shadow drew the zebra's gaze, his staff following the movement and more dangerous runes forming on the tip of his thoughts, combining into one of his favourite spells.

A swift crack rang through the jungle, blue light briefly breaking the stillness and the sharp tang of ozone filling the hut. Smoke trailing from the staff's head, Zubu slowly made his way out of his home, eyes darting in case he had missed, or the threat wasn't alone.

Zubu, you must come…

The words drifted like gossamer through the shafts of shadow and light striking the jungle floor and entering Zubu's thoughts directly.

"Who are you? Where are you?"

Hope, Zubu... She needs you.

The old zebra snorted, resting against his staff. "Are you a demon, here to take me at last? Spirit perhaps? Or a foal thinking to play games with Zubu the Maimed and Mighty? If it is the last, then know I have not lost my wits nor my magic out here." A bead of sweat rolled down the side of Zubu's face, his thin tongue licking his lips.

A rustle in his vegetable garden made him turn slowly and his breath hitch in his throat.

The creature that had driven away his friends was a being of bubbling pink smoke and pure magic. His nose hairs twitched at the ambient energy given off by the spirit. There could be no other explanation for the apparition trotting sedately out of the jungle. It looked a bit like a zebra, only taller, and with wings of fog that frothed from its back. In the forehead between where eyes should have been, sat a glimmering star.

You must follow us, Zubu, you must help us... She needs you, the star said, her light flickering with every word.

Peering closer, Zubu realised just who he was speaking with, and the knowledge chilled him through the muggy jungle air. "Firestar, is that you? Sirius, why are you not sleeping with your sisters?"

This one dreams and needs my help, and we need yours. You must follow us, please. She needs you.

Looking between the comfort of his hut and the wet fetid air of the jungle, Zubu gave a long weary sigh. He was old and tired, his joints ached, his mane was almost pure white, and his right eye could barely see it was so filled with cataracts. If he left his home and followed this star, Zubu knew he wouldn't see his home again. Adventures were for the young of body and soul, and he was neither. Zubu gave the spirit and star a toothy grin.

"Lead on, I will follow as best my old bones allow."

Come, our time runs short.

Through the thick boughs of the jungle, over streams glutted with water so they became dangerous torrents and slippery logs bridging chasms, they lead Zubu. His pace was consistent, if slow. He knew the jungle and her ways, and it was not long before he realised they were being followed. He slowed his already languid pace, casting furtive glances to the shadow darting through the foliage.

As he was crossing a slippery log, the shadow struck, bursting from the underbrush with a howl that turned into a pained yip as Zubu hopped backwards and brought his staff down upon his persurers head.

The creature, a three tailed fox with soft, sky-blue fur, fell onto her back, white paws grabbing where she’d been struck.

“Ow, ow, ow!” she exclaimed over and over, rolling back and forth across the path several time before stopping on her belly.

“Orenda! What are you doing, silly fox-spirit?” Zubu demanded, thumping his staff against the log for emphasis.

“I thought you were in trouble,” Orenda grumbled around a pout, continuing to nurse the bruise to her ego and head. “I smelled unusual magic at the hut, and you were gone. So, I tracked you, thinking you were in trouble. Then I saw you were with a shade, and trouble was mild next to whatever mess your in.”

“Bah, Zubu is perfectly safe,” he dismissed, tail snapping in irritation.

“Of course, because the majestic and wise Zubu doesn’t charge headlong into danger, and then demand I pull him out by his tail.”

Orenda rolled her eyes, the dark splotches on her face making her seem sinister and unwelcoming, while her tails thumped onto the path, sending up a spray of mud, none of which stuck to her fur. Her tails, each marked with a different rune, then curled against her side, Orenda lowering her head.

“I’m sorry, that was uncalled for,” she apologised. “I just worry about you.”

“Worry? For Zubu? Ha!” He puffed out his chest, beginning to trudge after Sirius. “Look, Zubu still goes on adventures. On one now. No need for silly fox to worry. Not about old Zubu, oh no, no, no.”

“But, a shade?” Orenda jumped up to Zubu’s side, easily matching his slow stride. “The dead shouldn’t linger like that. It’s unnatural.”

Neither said anymore, each falling into their own thoughts as jungle began to thin until a rolling golden plain opened up before them, beckoning them to step out of the humid, confining air. Few trees dotted the land beyond the jungle’s border, the ground dry and cracked, baked into a dense crust by Sol. Far off in the distance so it was just a smudge on the horizon was one of the griffon's aeries. Hesitating, Zubu turned to his unusual companions.

"Out there, in the open?" He asked, only for the spirit and star to move ahead. "Of course, it would be near those rotten cat-birds," Zubu hesitated, moving back and forth along the divide between jungle and savannah.

“You did say you were on an adventure,” Orenda teased, jumping ahead with a spring in her step only carried by the youthful. “What’s an adventure without a little danger? Unless, you want to turn around, slink back to the hut, and commune with your fire some more.”

“No, a shaman does not back out on a promise,” Zubu grunted as he followed, his staff digging into the hard, dry earth.

Orenda shook her head as he passed, muttering under her breath, “Stubborn zebra, he’s going to end up bird food if he keeps this up.”

For hours they traveled, searching continually for griffons, or one of the many other predators that called the land home. It wasn't long before they came across a set of tracks. Zubu lifted a curious eye as he saw two sets of prints that could only belong to griffons, one whom was dragging both feet on her right side. Among them, racing back and forth in a chaotic swirl, were the tracks of a foal. At least, Zubu believed they were a foals tracks. They weren't right for a zebra foal, a little too round, and the hollow was too narrow. He had never seen tracks like them.

As he inspected the tracks, shadows began to cross the sun. Looking up, his old heart almost seized. Hundreds of griffons flew past, many giving him angry or suspicious glares. Saying a little prayer to the White Walker, hoping the griffons were unaware that he was unprotected by the Compact, Zubu sat down and waited for the flock to pass, Orenda laying down at his side, growling at the griffons. The star and shade had completely vanished.

When the last griffon vanished behind a small hill, Zubu let out a deep gasp of relief he'd been holding.

"Firestar? Firestar? You still here, Firestar?"

We are here. The star dryly intoned from a little ways down the path. We must hurry. Our time is almost gone.

Gulping down the fear swirling in his stomach, Zubu hustled after the swiftly moving smoke. A few minutes later, he again saw the griffons take wing, lifting off from around a lone tree.

We are too late, Sirius lamented, gently rolling towards the tree.

Silently, Zubu followed, taking laboured breaths, his hooves dragging as he walked. Beneath the tree he could see two griffons, both laying far too still for the time of day. Dread over what he would find filling his mouth with burning bile, Zubu carefully approached the griffons. All around were a sea of prints making it impossible to tell what precisely had happened.

A tear trickled from Zubu's eye as he inspected the first griffon. She was so young, and had been horribly battered, a wing mangled by some fight or crash. Her throat had been slit, no doubt with one of those terrible ceremonial knives. Griffons, Zubu snorted, they believed it a kindness to end the life of those they thought were cripples. Zubu looked to his own mangled leg.

He had lived his entire life with his maimed limb, and it had only made him stronger, fiercer, and more determined. Now, in the autumn of his life, Zubu wouldn't have traded it for a functioning leg.

The Griffons made no sense. Zubu tried to think over what he knew of the cat-birds as he went to inspect the second griffon. They were so fiercely loyal, and cruelty from a griffon was almost unheard of, they went out of their way to avoid making anything suffer a lingering death, and yet they were so cold. At least they were predictable. Unless they were an Exile. Zubu shuddered thinking about the wild and frightening ways exiles from the aeries could act.

Approaching the second griffon, Zubu was surprised to see she was still alive, her chest just barely moving. A large pool of blood spread beneath her making the ground wet and sticky. Curious, Zubu bent down and saw she'd been stabbed in the chest. She also seemed to be in prime health, if a little dusty and unkempt.

The griffon's eyes shot open as Zubu moved her head to see her neck. Jumping back, he leveled his staff at the griffon despite knowing that she was no threat in her state.

"Talona, they took her," the griffon said, spitting up blood.

Confused who a 'Talona' could be, Zubu looked to the smoke for guidance, but it was gone along with the star. Snorting, Zubu turned back to the dying griffon.

"Looks like your day is lucky. I was brought here to save someone, and you get to be it."

The first rays of Sol, perfectly slanting in the minutest of gaps between curtain and sill as the sun crested the Canterhorn so that it struck Tyr upon her eye, waking the filly with a start. Wearily blinking away the crust of sleep on her muzzle, Tyr glanced hopefully around the room, silently praying to Hemera, Aphrodite, and Athena that she’d find her old, comfortable chambers. The soft bed she’d known the past century, with it’s perfectly placed lumps and grooves, was not beneath her. Her dresser made of pink coral, a gift from Poseidon and Amphitrite, the god and goddess of the Oceans and Lakes, respectively, was not standing between a pair of thin, gold framed windows. Nor were there toys and dolls scattered about the floor like a rolling field of flotsam.

Tyr couldn’t hold back the pang of profound weariness that overcame her as she was instead greeted by the too-clean room she’d been given. Everything was too clean, too fresh, too perfect for Tyr’s tastes, with none of the little bits of history and charm she was accustomed to seeing.

Grumbling, Tyr rolled onto her stomach, reminding herself that she’d known what would be waiting for her when she awoke.

The previous day, waking in the strange library, hadn’t been nearly so striking. It was too strange and different, the juxtaposition too great for her mind to overcome.

Now, surrounded by what at first seemed familiar, but after the first glance was so wrong, the full weight of her loss crashed down upon her heart. Tyr felt both heavier and lighter, her body sinking deeper into the quilts. Grabbing the covers in her small hooves, Tyr pulled the plush, excellent sheets to her chin as her lip quivered.

Something wet stung her cheeks, slowly trickling down a cheek. Tyr’s self-pity slowed as she touched her hoof to the damp spot, pulling away a couple tears.

Tyr didn’t even attempt to hold in the shriek, primal fear piercing her like a thousand lances. Flinging the treacherous drops away, Tyr scampered backwards as fast as her legs could move, tumbling over the bed’s edge. She attempted to slow her fall with a couple flaps of her wings, producing nothing save a few sporadic twitches in the muscles along her back.

Laying on her back, her mind locking up as she tried to coax any movement from her wings, Tyr was only vaguely aware of pounding hooves and the door to her room being flung open. Cadence and Shining both stood for a moment in the space between rooms, eyes darting about for whatever threat was circling Tyr. At once they took in the heart of the matter, Tyr’s strangled gasps reaching their attentive ears from the tight bundle of quilts and sheets.

“Tyr, are you alright?” Cadence asked, slowly unwrapping the tight cocoon of cotton and duck feathers Tyr had managed to create in her short tumble off the bed.

Cadence’s words had the effect of snapping Tyr back into action.

Shrieking again, she spun, attempting to peer at her wings, and finding only the normal, ordinary back.

No wings.

They had taken her wings!

The realization rampaged through her head as she sat down with a hard thump.

Again, she brought a hoof to her face, more tears trickling down her cheeks to drip off the end of her muzzle. With an infinitely languid motion, the trio fell, splattering upon the floor like common, salty tears.

No, they’d done worse than take her wings.

Tyr placed her hoof over the wet spots on the marble, and she could feel nothing. No tingle of magic, no sense of hidden, waiting strength. Worse, the fur of her coat was so… plain, flat, and muted, her lustre gone, whisked to the same place as her wings.

“She did it. Celestia really did it,” Tyr mumbled, an entire stream of little droplets running down her cheeks. “For a moment… last night… when you said…” Tyr’s voice trailed off in a weary sigh.

“Tyr…” Cadence spoke in a gentle, conciliatory tone, one that sharpened as she repeated the filly’s name. “Look at me.” Tyr did so, but slowly, and with a begrudging glare.

“You will get your wings back, and your earth pony strength.” Tyr’s chin was lifted by a hoof when she tried to look away. “I know you can’t sense it, but neither are gone, they are just bound and hidden.”

Tyr didn’t respond, ignoring the firm assurance, treating it with suspicion and doubt. She had to escape and find a way home. But first, Tyr had to make herself whole again. If her mother, her real mother, saw her like this, maimed and broken, Tyr had little doubt that she’d be struck dead on the spot. The best outcome would be exile to the outer wastes, or abandoned on Ioka. She had to find a way to break the curse laid on her.

“I know,” Tyr intoned in a dull, defeated voice, secret plans already beginning to formulate.

She’d play the defeated foal, for now. Tyr could never fully trust these ponies. They were as bad as the Olympians, and nothing, nothing, like her own family. Hemera and the others may at times have been firm, but they never resorted to trickery or underhooved tactics like laying curses on a sleeping foal.

No, Tyr would never belong among the alicorns of Ioka.

Book One: Chapter Seven: Family

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book One: Awakening and Arrivals
Chapter Seven: Family

The Citadel of Light was burning.

Her breath coming in long, laboured gasps, Shyara ran down the corridors as the walls trembled and shook. Passing a window, she saw the stones launched from the trebuchets of the Olympian's armies, burning pitch billowing trails of sparks and smoke in their wake. The night sky was covered by the fiery tails, as if ten thousand stars were crashing down on the Citadel. Closing her eyes, Shyara screamed for her mother as she rounded a corner and the Citadel’s shield groaned under the bombardment.

All around her she could feel the energies of her aunts, cousins, and mother. Some were weak and thready, while others flared and then dimmed. Among her family Shyara sensed other energies, those given off by the Olympians. There were too many and they kept moving so quickly that Shyara didn't know which way to run, so she just ran, twisting and weaving through the corridors of the crumbling Citadel.

The steady deep rumble of hurled boulders and barrels of exploding pitch reverberated through the citadel and Shyara's bones. The smell of burning hair and thick smoke filled the filly's nostrils while the shrieks and cries of wounded combined with sharp reports of metal striking metal to drown out her own voice.

Deeper and deeper she went, her small hooves skipping and sliding occasionally as she encountered slick red pools on the polished marble. She tried not to think of what the pools were, to push the thoughts out of her mind and focus instead on running and not falling.

Laughter ahead of her made her skid to a halt.

Minotaurs, three of the bull headed monsters, stood blocking her path. Just past the minotaurs stood the door to Tyr's chambers. The thick steel banded oak had been splintered and torn open; a thin trail of crimson leaked through the opening and was splashed on the wall. There were no signs of the Guards that watched over and protected Shyara's cousin.

Shyara stood, still as a statue, wishing she could disappear or slink away through the wall. It was an unbecoming feeling for the young alicorn, one she was becoming more and more familiar with experiencing since the siege began. With slow, deliberate steps she began to move away. Shyara stopped, chewing on her lip as she looked at the broken doors. Was Tyr still in her room? Straining her ears, Shyara tried to listen for any noises emanating from beyond the minotaurs, but only heard the continually dull roar and rumble of the bombardment.

Shyara glanced back the way she’d come. If Tyr had been near, Shyara held no doubt that her cousin would have been putting up a fight, or at least yelling for her appointed guardian. Content that Tyr had been taken to a place of safety or was already captured—Shyara unable to do anything in either case—she again started to slip away, only to step onto a shard of parceline with an echoing crack.

The three brutes turned as one to the sound, their eyes glinting with bloodlust and cruelty as they settled on Shyara.

"A Godling," the largest of the minotaurs shouted, pointing an arm bulging with muscles towards the filly. "Get her and bring her to Lord Ares."

"Stop! Take one step towards me and I’ll use my magic on you," Shyara growled, hoping she projected strength and confidence, but feeling her legs shaking.

The two minotaurs that had started towards her paused, looking towards their leader for guidance. Snorting, he pushed past his subordinates and with slow measured strides made his way towards Shyara. "She's just a Godling, they ain't got no magic yet."

A triple headed flail extended from his large meaty hand, the spiked steel balls sparking as they slammed into the marble floor. Shyara gulped, swiftly backing away from the towering brute.

"Go ahead, little one, use your magic. Rip the flesh from my bones. Crack my chest so I can see the last beats of my heart. Tear the bones from my body. Do it."

Shyara stepped back at the minotaur's vile grin, a slight chill sweeping up her spine. Setting her jaw, she tried to conjure her magic. All that came were a few sputtering silvery-blue sparks that died skipping along the marble and the minotaur's hooves. Gasping for breath, Shyara felt her tentative grip on her magic slip as she backed up against the wall.

"Pathetic."

The minotaur reached down towards Shyara, the terrified alicorn filly unable to look away from the monster's grim, red eyes. A flash of silver blurred between them, the minotaur's arm sailing through the air in a spray of crimson viscera. Howling, the minotaur clutched at the stump of his right arm, his flail crashing to the ground. He’d only begun to turn towards his attacker when an iron blade thrust through his chest, hot blood splashing across Shyara's face.

Dead, the minotaur fell to the side revealing his killer.

"Trixelion!" Shyara exclaimed, never more happy in her eighty-five years to see a mortal.

Her savior didn't respond as she turned to face the two remaining minotaurs. The destruction of their leader had been so swift neither had time to realise what had just occurred. Hefting axe or sword, the two monsters appraised their foe.

Trixelion was tall and slender, her fur dyed a rich violet and covered in a gilded bronze hauberk. Her silver mane draped down her shoulders from beneath a war-helmet. Through a hole in the helm was a short rounded horn glowing with blue-white magic. Beside her hovered a long bladed cavalry sword, her magic only visible around the golden hilt. Painted on the flanks of her armour was the great twelve pointed star of Astraea, the Goddess of the Stars.

Keeping her eyes trained on the Minotaurs, Trixelion said, "Lady Shyara, stay low, I will protect you." To the minotaurs she then added, "Foul beasts, what have you done with the Lady Tyr? Where is she?"

"Lord Ares already has that one," the left minotaur chuckled, fingers tightened like knots on the haft of his axe.

Hiding behind the dead alpha minotaur, Shyara tried to watch the confrontation. She had heard in song and legend the tales of Heroes and how they fought, and Trixelion was one of the greatest heroes ever as far as she was concerned. For a long moment the two sides stared at each other, and then in rush of clanking metal and sparks, both sides charged.

The minotaurs never stood a chance against Trixelion.

Ducking and weaving, the dragoon avoided their sloppy attacks with practiced ease. The tip of her sword spun around the axe wielding minotaur's guard, slicing across and through his neck. Dropping onto her knees, Trixelion slid beneath the other minotaur. Jumping back up to her hooves, she spun and, with a resounding crack, shattered the monster's nearest knee. The beast's screams flowed through the corridor. Screams that were quickly silenced in a bubbling gurgle.

"Pitiful, I would have expected more from Minotaurs," Trixelion spat as she turned and trotted towards Shyara, her blade sliding into its sheath along her side. "My Lady, you are—”

The remainder of Trixelion’s question vanished, the dragoon twisting around with a snarl. Bits of stone and debris clattered off her armour, cast in a shower as a war-maul, covered in spikes and trailing a curtain of gore, shattered the floor where Trixelion had been standing. Around the maul’s shaft, a halo of ghastly green magic flickered and danced, cackling madly at the hero.

“Mephodon,” Trixelion snarled, pulling her sword once more from its sheath.

“Indeed,” chuckled a voice, thick and heavy with malice, from the dark remains of Tyr’s chambers. “I suspected somepony would come looking for the fallen godling; a brave would-be hero. Seems I was right, as is normal.”

From the room, Mephodon stepped. His coat was steely blue-grey, his hooves cracked and black as soot. Yellow teeth, mane, and eyes shone with hungry glee, staring deep into Trixelion’s own. A hulking brute, Mephodon was easy to mistake for a small horse, and not a pony, his un-armoured hide rippling with brutish power. Scars criss-crossed his withers and back, creating a web of white lines as if they were made by a drunk spider spinning a web. From the center of his brow, like a proud lance, thrust a horn, a string of teeth entwined around its length, each tooth taken from a pony slain by his own hooves.

King of Arien, General of Lord Ares’ armies, and the God of Slaughter’s chosen champion; there was nopony among those supporting the Olympians that was more dangerous or deadly.

“Lady Shyara, stay back,” Trixelion commanded, leaping forward, blade descending in a graceful arc towards Mephodon’s neck.

He challenged Trixelion with a thundering roar, batting aside her blade with the butt of his hammer.

Shyara stood transfixed by the battle unfolding before her. Fluid speed and skill against brutal strength and domination, Trixelion and Mephodon circled each other, striking again and again. While sword and hammer spun and smashed, both champions launched spells, hot and furious, one after another in a crescendo of flashing booms until the walls melted from the heat of expended aether. Shyara couldn’t begin to follow the fight, the participants moving with a speed and fury that defied reason. One moment Trixelion hovered with a levitation charm, the next the great blocks of marble from the ceiling were falling around her, she dodging this way and that, seeking an opening in her opponent’s defenses while Mephodon merely hurled the debris aside. Blue aether crackled across corridor as Trixelion summoned a spell; several Trixelion lept from one spot, each bringing magic and blade to bear.

For a moment it seemed Trixelion was in a half-dozen places at once, attacking Mephodon from every angle simultaneously. The clones or illusions were crushed as one, Mephodon banishing them in a burst of pure aether, before striking Trixelion across the cheeks, the blow shattering her helmet and sending her sprawling across the jagged stone.

Stampeding towards Trixelion, the dragoon shaking her head to clear it even as she rolled to the side, Mephodon triumphantly crowed, “Victory through death!” She moved too slow to avoid Mephodon’s blow, his hammer descending with sickening glee towards her back. A resounding snap struck Shyara’s ears, pressing them against her head as Trixelion screamed. Her hind hooves twitching, Trixelion lay pinned to the floor.

Ever defiant, she spat in Mephodon’s face, making him turn his head for a moment. In that instant, her blade, held in the remains of a faint, flickering aura, descended. Mephodon noticed the blade to late, jerking his head aside. Sparks flew as the iron edge shattered his horn, cleaving off the final third of its length.

Howling as raw aether spilled in a hissing torrent, Mephodon staggered back on his hind hooves, fore hooves pressed against the wound as if they could stem the flow. Madness infecting his gaze, he began to regain his senses, only to be struck in the face by a plain blast of telekinetic energy that sent him tumbling through the shattered walls and begin the long fall to the valley floor.

Gasping for breath, Trixelion called for Shyara, propping herself against one of the marble blocks littering the once pristine hallway.

“Lady Shyara, you are unharmed I pray," Trixelion asked.

"Y-yes, I'm alright," Shyara mumbled, her eyes fixated on the hole Mephodon had fallen through, expecting him to re-appear at any moment. “W-we have to get moving… and find mother. She’ll know what to do.”

“Agreed, but you’ll have to go without me.” Trixelion placed a hoof on Shyara’s wither, turning the young alicorn towards the unbroken segment of the Citadel, where, hopefully, the defenders were rallying.

“I can’t!” Shyara protested immediately, ears pressing flat against her head at the thought of wandering through the citadel alone again. “Come with me, I demand it.”

Giving a low laugh, Trixelion smiled.

“If but I could. My back has been broken and my aether is spent.”

“But…” Shyara shook her head, trying to deny the truth in Trixelion’s words.

Trixelion looked away from Shyara and to the night sky, visible barely through the unending bombardment. “It is good to see the stars again.”

"N-no, you can’t leave me—" Shyara's voice faltered as she became aware of an alicorn heading straight towards her.

Before Shyara could call out a warning or duck, the remainder of the walls exploded. Shards of stone skipped off Trixelion's armour and Shyara's coat as the dragoon drew the filly to her with the last of her strength, shielding Shyara from the jagged splinters. Blinking and coughing through the dust, Shyara let out a strangled gasp.

"Mom!" she cried, trying to leap forward only to be stopped by Trixelion. "Let me go, that's my mom!"

Trixelion’s legs drooped, releasing Shyara enough for her to squirm lose. Her hoof splashed down into a spreading red puddle, making her hesitate and turn to look back at her protector. Trixelion gazed back with lifeless eyes.

A half-strangled gasp parting her lips, Shyara jumped back from the dead champion, heart leaping into her throat. Through Trixelion’s back thrust a stone spear longer than the champion herself, its point poking out of her chest. The stone would have destroyed Shyara if Trixelion hadn’t intervened.

Before panic could take true hold, Shyara was struck by the presence of a third alicorn. Shyara recoiled, hissing in pain. It was like having boiling oil poured on her Awareness. The other alicorn could only be an Olympian, one filled with seething rage and sadistic glee at the carnage filling the Citadel. There were only two alicorns capable of taking pleasure in such slaughter and destruction. Both possibilities made Shyara tremble.

Through the thick dust Shyara could see a shadow stalk forward and stop before something propped against the wall, dull rust red magic making the his outline glow.

"This has been a pleasant game, but it comes to a close with you once more powerless at my hooves. You were supposed to be one of the strongest among us, only Father and Hemera your greater, and look at you. Broken, weak, and soon to be nothing but a memory and an echo that slowly fades from existence."

The dust settled as the Olympian spoke, revealing a massive red stallion covered in dull grey armour. Tears and dents covered the armour's surface, attesting to a life of constant conflict. A golden blonde mane fell haphazardly about his face and partially hid vibrant green eyes. On his flank stood three curved black swords forming an outward spiral. Beside the stallion hovered a short-spear, bits of gore and blood dripping from its surface.

The last of Shyara’s hope faded as she gazed in terror upon Ares, God of Slaughter.

Smiling, Ares said, "Don't think I don't know you are there, little Shyara. Fear not, I wont keep you from joining your fellow foals for long. You’ll complete the set, actually."

"No, Ares, you will not have them. With the last of my strength, I spit upon you. With the last of my will, I curse you. With the last of my love, I will save my herd. With the last of my magic, I will send them somewhere you can never reach them." Shyara's legs gave out as she heard the malice and fear in her mother's voice. "I will protect my daughter, always."

A wave of incredible magic spread across the night, and then, one by one, stars began to fall in silver lances, descending towards the besieged citadel. Before anypony could move or respond, a blinding wall of light expanded outwards from the rubble hiding Shyara's mother, engulfing the entire mountain.

Screaming, the filly jolted upright, her eyes darting madly for some sign of Ares, Trixelion, or her mother. All she saw was the brightly painted interior of Trixie's wagon.

"The nightmare again?" Trixie asked, the showmare rolling over on the bed to watch Shyara.

"Yeah."

"You don't... want to tell Trixie about it, do you? The Great and Powerful Trixie has travelled far and wide, maybe she can help."

Sighing, Shyara shrunk back into the thick quilts. Trixie waited long enough to see that the alicorn still wouldn't tell her about the nightmare before rolling over and closing her eyes.

"Well, try to get some sleep. We still have a long way to travel before we reach Vanhoover."

Giving a weak little nod, Shyara scooted a little closer to Trixie, closed her eyes, and was soon back to sleep. Trixie just rolled her eyes and laid her head back down on the pillows.

"Okay, Twilight, now, gently, reach out to the stars," Luna said, looking to Twilight as the two sat atop Twilight’s Tower.

Twilight nodded slowly, gulping back a feeling of apprehension. All around them, Equestria was wrapped in the hour for which she was named. A soft reddish haze lingered in the west while in the east the very edge of the moon could be seen on the horizon. Overhead there was only a blank inky tapestry, one that was waiting for Twilight to fill with her stars.

Her stars. That idea still seemed so foreign.

Closing her eyes, Twilight started to extend herself outwards, into the sky. She could feel and see Luna still beside her, the darker alicorn a white mist as the two reached towards their respective charges. At Luna's touch, the moon gave a contented sigh and greeted Twilight with a drowsy, ‘Hello.’ Twilight waved to the moon, or tried to, but it was difficult when she was a twinkling mass of purple stardust. Passing the moon and leaving Luna behind, Twilight climbed higher and higher. Ahead, she could see her destination, Polaris, the Lodestar gently sparkling as it slumbered.

"When you are ready, Luna," Twilight called down to the older goddess.

Luna swirled closer to the moon until they seemed to merge, and then, in a flair of silvery moonlight, both began to climb into the night. At the same time Twilight flowed closer to Polaris, her essence tingling so close to the star.

"Polaris, time to wake up," she cooed softly.

The sleeping star gave a grunt and rolled over, growing a little dimmer as if she could hide.

"Polaris, come on, let's not delay this, again," Twilight growled giving the star the equivalent of a nudge.

Just another few minutes, please, the Lodestar mumbled, and Twilight could swear it looked like the star was clamping her eyes shut. How exactly a star could do that, when they were balls of energy and light, stymied Twilight.

"Oh no, not tonight, missy. We've been tardy every night this week and I've gotten three protests from the Astronomers Guild, as well as the Astrologers Guild. Tonight we are doing this on time. Got it?"

Around a little hum of dozy delight, the star stretched, saying, Alright, mistress. Any particular orders for tonight?

This caused Twilight to hesitate. Polaris had asked the same question the first time Twilight had awoken the stars. Afterwards Luna had explained that the Lodestar was wondering if there were any changes Twilight wanted to make to the night sky. With everything that had been going on Twilight hadn't had time to even consider if she wanted to make any changes to the night.

"Uh, not tonight," Twilight said, and then feeling Polaris take on a disappointed tinge added, "But maybe soon."

Alright, the star said, a hint of unhappiness in her voice. Well, we should get the others up, I suppose.

Lights splashed and weaved across Equestria's skies as Twilight and Polaris reached out, waking the other stars. In a rolling wave the constellations appeared, the stars glimmering and stretching before beginning their vigil over the ponies and creatures below. Luna had started to receive letters complimenting and asking her about how different the stars' appearance had become.

Relieved to have been only a little late, Twilight began to float down to her body. She was stopped by a call from within the constellation Draco.

Mistress! Mistress! Arrakis cried, darting across the night as she shouted at the top of her non-existent lungs.

Luna and Twilight both turned to the approaching star, Arrakis slowing when she was only several dozen leagues away.

“Yes? Is there anything I can help you with?” Twilight asked, her uncertainty showing as a cascade of violet sparks along her ethereal form.

I… I just… Well… Arrakis stopped a short distance from the pair of disembodied alicorns, her light shifting to an embaressed pink.

Trying to smile, the action turning her a comforting blue, Twilight drifted towards Arrakis. “It’s okay. I wont bite or be angry.”

Snapping up a few lengths, Arrakis sputtered, Oh, I know that, mistress! It’s just… an odd request, that’s all.

“Oh really?”

Yes… Arrakis drifted a bit closer to Twilight, curling up against her ethereal form like a cat in making a den in a rumpled quilt. As you know, I am the Dancer, right?

Twilight nodded.

But, the thing is… I’ve never actually, well, done it. Danced, I mean. I’ve watched ponies and zebras and griffons and even dragons dance, but… I’ve never done it myself. Arrakis grew a melancholy grey as she talked, her words drifting into uncertainty and longing. Celestia was always so adamant that we keep things as they were, and before that Luna was so preoccupied with either the fallen stars or was so sad herself that nostar felt like doing much of anything, and before that we didn’t really think or question much. Bad things happened to stars that questioned the natural order in the old days, and Polaris was always so worried for us that I didn’t want to—

“Yes, of course you can dance,” Twilight gave a tittering laugh.

Arrakis didn’t seem to hear Twilight, the star lowering her voice in a gravely grumble.

’You have to be careful, Arrakis! Look at what happened to Tali. One careless slip and bam, your gathering speed to smash into the disc and casting your precious aether across the heavens.’

“I don’t think Polaris sounds like that…” Twilight did the equivalent of pressing her lips together.

“No, no, it’s a very good impression.” Luna giggled a few lengths away, her essence crackling with suppressed laughter.

With a squeak, Arrakis shot between Twilight and Luna, exclaiming, You said yes? I can dance? I can dance!

Releasing a delighted whoop, Arrakis spun higher into the heavens, before falling back down, leaving a trail of sparkling dust in her wake.

Thank you, thank you, thank you! Arrakis bumped into Twilight over and over, giving her a series of quick kisses. I… Have to plan what dance to do first! Maybe a Tango! Or a Waltz! I always wanted to waltz.

Arrakis hurried off, gathering a dozen of her sisters as she made her way back towards her constellation, a storm of gasps and happy cries trailing in their wake. Twilight and Luna watched them go, both feeling their distant hearts swelling in joy so far beneath them on the disc. When the stars had gone far enough that their voices were no more than a gentle babble of nonsense, the two alicorns continued on their way back to their bodies.

Beside her Luna wore a look of mixed humour and relief as they stretched. She gave Twilight a slight smile before saying, "Well, I think that has been the best start to a night yet. I can’t recall ever seeing a star so happy with something so simple. Though I see Sirius is still missing."

Suppressing a groan, Twilight followed the older alicorn’s gaze towards the constellation in question, Canis Major. Sure enough, the star was missing from her spot again.

Grinding her teeth, Twilight again began to lift up into the sky, but was stopped by a light tug. Turning she saw Luna had somehow managed to grab a hold of her. The connection tingled like mint and smelled of fresh rain. As quickly as Luna grabbed her, she let go. Feeling a little dazed and lost for a few moments, Twilight couldn't shake the sensation that something was missing, but she wasn't sure what.

"Don't worry about the Firestar right now.” Twilight could tell that Luna was herself concerned behind the false smile she wore.

"Princess, what was that? When you touched me it felt like a cool winter breeze, and I couldn't think after you let go."

"Ah, yes," Luna looked away and in the early evening light Twilight could almost swear the princess was blushing. "What you just felt, it's a far more... intimate connection than just regular touching. It’s a bit like when unicorns share their magic. Our essences were mingling and we were, uh, experiencing a bit of the underlying power of the other. By the way, your touch tastes like those frizzy pop rock candies." Luna, leaning down while her eyes hunted for any sign of her sister, added in a conspiratorial whisper, "Celestia is like jalapeños, and she smells like cinnamon."

Suppressing a laugh with her hoof, Twilight smiled, forgetting about Sirius' disappearance for a little while.

“So, this evenings lessons.” Luna clapped her hooves together twice, and lifted her head as if searching the night for a hint towards what the lessons would entail. Twilight couldn’t hide her own eagerness, her wings jittering, and a big grin plastered on her muzzle. Glancing to Twilight and continuing the act of the coming lecture being spur-of-the-moment, Luna gave a shallow laugh. “I have it! The types of Alicorns.”

“Types?” Twilight scrunched up her nose as if she’d smelled something bad. “We have ‘types’?”

“Certainly!” Luna bobbed her head a couple times. “Celestia and I are Physicals, for instance. You are as well… we think.”

“You think?” Twilight laughed and shook her mane, the stars within glimmering a little brighter.

It was Luna’s turn to scrunch her nose. “There have not been many of us. Until a few days ago Celestia and I only knew of there having been seven of our kind, including you. So, yes, we three are Physicals, and are tied to one of the celestial bodies.”

“Wait, ‘seven of our kind’?” Twilight tilted her head, her laughter fading away. “Whois—”

“That’s a discussion for later,” Luna gave Twilight a stern look, one she had perfected. “But, yes, physicals,” with a wave of her hoof Luna indicated herself and Twilight, then pointed to Cadence’s tower, “and Cadence is Emotional… literally, often.” The last few words were added in a grumbling undertone. “While we draw our magic from our associated body, or bodies in your case, she’s bound to the ever-shifting tides of love. I, sadly, don’t know much more. Truthfully, I’m not certain even she fully understands her nature.”

“And the third type?” Twilight’s curiosity was fully engaged, the young mare scooting a few inches closer to Luna and leaning towards her friend, ears waiting to catch every word.

“We call them—her Intangible.” Deciding not to press Luna’s slip, Twilight tried to be patient while Luna recovered her train of thought. “She represents, or is bound, to the concept of Fate.”

“You’re speaking of your mother, the Namegiver,” Twilight reasoned, rubbing her chin.

Luna ruffled her wings as she looked to the horizon and Selene gently climbing along her usual spring path. After a few moments of silence, she gave a deep sigh. “I did not think this lesson through enough, it seems. I’m sorry, Twilight.” Slowly, Luna stood, gesturing with a wing for Twilight to do the same. “We’ll have to revisit this topic another time. For now, you need to start getting ready for the morning." Luna gave Twilight a gentle smile as she stretched.

Twilight wanted to press the subject. A hundred different questions buzzed like bees in her head, each yearning to be aired. But, Twilight had come to recognise over the past few days when Luna would and would not indulge in her curiosity. This was one of the times when attempting to pry information out of Luna would have yielded nothing more than stern glares and a frosty, ‘Good eve’.

Together the two Alicorns of the Night walked down into the palace proper and the hustle and bustle that filled the center of Equestria's government at all times of the day. After a few moments they parted, Luna heading towards Night Court while Twilight turned in the direction of the various royal apartments. The busy activity was a stark contrast to when Twilight had lived in the palace as Celestia's student. Where once the palace had been quiet and serene during the night, now pages and stewards moved about carrying out the work of supporting Luna's half of the diarchy. All around her servants were putting the final touches on the preparations for the next day’s event.

Questions hounded her as Twilight weaved her way through the palace. She had little idea what was going to be expected of her in the future, only that in a few hours she'd be presented as a living goddess. Would she have to hold court? Would she have to live in the palace? Would she have her own personal guards? At least she didn’t think she’d have to live in the temple with the Sisterhood… would she?

On and on the questions went, most left unspoken as she went from lessons on controlling her alicorn powers to learning to fly under Dash's guidance. Then there were the questions from the press. Twilight was silently thankful that they were kept off the palace grounds. Between it all, she barely had a few minutes in the day to just sit down and relax.

And the nobles! Twilight was no novice at dealing with the nobility, it came part and parcel growing up as the heir to one of the oldest—if not prominent—Houses. For the most part, Twilight had managed to avoid dealing too much with the other Houses, that had always been more her mother's forte. Since moving to Ponyville she'd almost dropped out of their sights completely. Even her entitlement as Countess Everfree it hadn't caused much of a stir. A countess of a monster filled forest with no pony living on her land was only marginally more important than a commoner. There was no wealth and little prestige attached to the title, and she didn’t even hold a seat in the House of Ladies.

Winding her way through the busy corridors, Twilight gave a little grunt of annoyance. She was supposed to be heading towards her old quarters where her friends would be waiting for her. Instead her hooves carried her towards another portion of the palace.

It wasn't that Twilight wanted to avoid her friends. Sure, Rarity's fawning had started to become a little irksome, and Pinkie's jubilation could wear down the most resilient. Applejack and Fluttershy had taken the change stoically, and while both were genuinely happy for Twilight, neither could fully hide their concerns or fears that this meant the end of their little group. For better or worse, nothing was ever going to be the same.

Maybe she could use some of those transformation spells Luna had told her about and return to living in Ponyville. The idea always left her chest feeling a little lighter and the constant knot of tension in Twilight's stomach would dissipate for a moment. The feeling only lasted until she realised that it just wasn't possible.

Anything is possible, mistress, chuckled a sharp voice.

Twilight stopped in the middle of the corridor almost causing a porter to crash into her.

"Sirius," Twilight snapped, drawing a few curious looks from the servants. "Where have you been?"

I’ve been… busy.

Twilight narrowed her eyes at the way the star hedged her words and searched for some sign of Sirius. She could sense the star was close, within the palace itself, but the precise location eluded her. Her gaze settled on a suit of armour, and as she was about to move on, a little glimmer of light behind the helmet’s visor betrayed the star.

Sidestepping towards the armour while making it look like she was avoiding a maid, Twilight said, “Oh, busy. Doing ‘star-stuff’, I bet. Sparkling, being observed, perhaps acting as a portent again.”

Reaching the armour, Twilight jumped forward, wrenching the helmet from the frame. “Gotcha!” Twilight smirked, but her lips quickly fell into a frown.

Sirius wasn’t in the armour.

Checking the inside of the helmet, Twilight found Sirius wasn’t in it either.

I’m harder than that to catch, mistress. Sirius’ laughter echoed from somewhere near the ceiling, among the chandeliers.

“Come down here!” Twilight slammed the helmet back onto the stand, leaving small dents where her magic pressed too hard.

Sirius was silent. When she spoke again, her voice came from behind a tapestry.

If you must know, I was helping somepony, Sirius said as she floated out from behind the tapestry, bouncing into the middle of the corridor.

Twilight took a step towards Sirius, only to stop as the star zipped back several paces, halting between a startled page’s ears.

"Come back here,” Twilight growled, narrowing her eyes at the defiant star. “You need to go back to the heavens, where you belong.”

No. Sirius narrowed her light, becoming a threatening red beacon.

“Uh, Lady Sparkle, what’s going on?” The page glanced between Twilight and the star hovering just above his head.

“Nothing. Just stay put. I don’t think she’ll hurt you,” Twilight waved a calming hoof, not taking her gaze from Sirius.

Of course I won’t harm this pony.

Twilight could feel the star roll her eyes, an action that made her wobble into the pony’s ear. Yelping, he ducked down his head before scampering off, a thin stream of smoke trailing from scorched hairs.

That was an accident… Sirius said, her light shifting to an embarrassed pink.

"Okay, so what can you tell me about him or her?" Twilight sat down, attempting to appear unthreatening.

Who?

“The pony you were helping!”

Nothing.

"What?" Twilight's voice cracked off the stone walls making any pony unfortunate to be close wince and shrink away. Her left eye twitching, Twilight growled through clenched teeth, "What do you mean you can tell me nothing? Stop being so obstinate."

The star laughed. From the rolling timbre, Twilight could just imagine the star doing the equivalent of grabbing her belly while throwing back her head. If stars had bellies or heads. Sirius became a gentle blue, slowly rising a few lengths higher.

I'm simply mimicking my mistress. But, if you really must know, she was one of the shades.

“You were doing what?” Twilight’s mouth fell open, a series of questions and worries fighting to be aired. “They are dangerous! Why would you help them?”

Sirius dropped down to hover almost in front of Twilight’s nose. This one isn’t. She’s different. Besides, do you really think so little of me that I would help anything that would threaten you?

"I… I don’t know," Twilight muttered. “I’ve only been the Stars for five nights.”

A small crowd had begun to gather in the corridor. While some ponies tried to slip past, giving Twilight a wide berth and sticking to the far wall, most were forming into a clump a short distance from Twilight and Sirius.

Mistress, I love you with all of my being, I am incapable of doing otherwise. But that doesn't mean I like or respect you, yet. I'm not like Polaris or the others, I won't just dance to your tune because you say so. You need to earn my respect. But, I won't let anything happen to you or risk you being in danger. If it makes you feel better, this shade is a long, long distance away, and not interested in you.

Sirius vanished before Twilight could respond, folding into her own light with the distinct snap of teleportation. Twilight hoped the star had returned to her place in the night, but knew that if she checked, Sirius would still be missing. Giving a little grumble, she continued on her own way. The servants dispersed, odd looks following Twilight as they scurried away, but Twilight was too pre-occupied thinking over the encounter with Sirius.

The star didn't think the shade she had been watching was a threat. That was good. She also didn't respect Twilight, which explained a lot. Unsure how to deal with Sirius, Twilight continued through the corridors until she came to a smallish door set in the west wing. Beyond the door was one of the palace's most secure sanctuaries.

Twilight knocked politely on the white oak door, for old time's sake. Celestia over the years had tried to make it clear that Twilight was welcome in her office any time, but Twilight didn't want this little ritual to change. There had been far too many changes in too short a time for her liking, and this one thing would stay the same, always.

Slipping into the room, Twilight saw her mentor sitting behind her wide desk. The office was a thing of pure utility and little frills. Few ponies ever got to see the inside of the room, and it had been kept almost bare as a result. There were a couple bookcases against one wall, a curio cabinet containing various knick-knacks, a long, low table with a tea service on a gold tray, and a few cushions for Celestia to sit on while reading reports in front of her hearth. Atop the mantle sat an old cuckoo clock, the ticking of gears mixing with the gentle crackling of the fire. On the opposite wall sat three tall windows trimmed with scarlet curtains to let in the light of the afternoon and sunset.

The office had always felt comfortable and safe to Twilight, like this was the true nature of Celestia, and the other rooms that were covered in gold leaf and tapestries were just a show put on for the benefit of others.

Looking up from a stack of reports, Celestia gave Twilight a weary smile.

"Still no luck, Princess?" Twilight asked as she settled onto a soft cushion of duck feathers.

"Nothing. Not the alicorns, not the shades. Just… silence," Celestia sighed as she rolled up the parchment in front of her and moved it into a tray labeled 'Furnaces'. Plucking up the next report in the mountainous stack on her desk, she asked, "What about you? How has your night been so far? I sensed a star was nearby, but she seems to have moved off again."

“It was Sirius. She was here, in the palace.” Twilight bounced a hoof in imitation of the stars dancing movements. “Just bobbing along and sparkling.”

“I am amazed that such a thing is possible. Stars fall, but they… change, when they do so. I’ve never heard of a star on the disc that didn’t become a Valla.”

Twilight tilted her head at the vaguely familiar word. It was an old one, ancient even, but the exact nature and source eluded her. The Valla were involved, somehow, with Star Swirl the Bearded and the Great Migration, but details hung like mist just out of her reach.

Well aware of the meaning behind Twilight’s pinched brow and the way her muzzle crinkled, Celestia said, “The Valla were warrior-stars that, in times of trouble, chose to leave the heavens to help mortals.”

“Oh… They can do that?” Twilight blinked back a rush of surprise. “Not fall, I knew they could do that, but chose to fall…” Her voice trailed off as her brow knit in concentration that morphed from curiosity to concern when she said, “If they didn’t chose, then ponies can steal my stars?”

Twilight’s jaw tightened at the mere idea of a star being stolen from her. Ears flicking back and eyes pinching together, Twilight’s heart began to race, her breaths taken in quick, sharp snorts. A few thin wisps of smoke trailed from the tips of her mane and tail.

“Twilight, you need to calm down,” Celestia chided, her soft glance calming Twilight greater than an hour of breathing exercises. Before Twilight could start apologizing, Celestia continued, “Some stars choose, yes. Others have been stolen, or worse. Luna knows more than I. She had a star stolen during Discord’s reign and spent a while trying to find her.”

“Did she?”

“To my knowledge; no. But we weren’t talking at the time. That wasn’t long before…” Celestia trailed off, old wounds pressing down on her ears. Twilight’s own ears fell, echoing Celestia’s pained expression. “That’s all past, though.” Celestia moved beyond the memories with a deep breath. “What did Sirius say?”

"She's been watching a shade." Twilight snarled, unable to hide her anger towards the star, and herself for bringing up old wounds, even inadvertently.

Celestia put the report aside, a deep frown playing at the corner of her lips. “A shade? How could she be so foolish? No, this is Sirius, and she’s not stupid. Stubborn, inflexible, arrogant; yes. But loyal to a fault when that loyalty is earned. Something I never managed. She was always causing problems. Nothing of this magnitude, however. What could she be thinking?”

“The best way she can be a jerk?” Twilight’s wings extended a little, her teeth grinding together. “One moment she’s aggressive and evasive, the next she’s claiming she has no choice but to love me. I don’t get it.”

Celestia sighed, moving from behind her desk to sit beside Twilight. Twilight looked up, a little of her annoyance fading as Celestia extended a wing over her. It reminded her so much of when she had first arrived in the palace as Celestia’s protege, and they’d sit together with Twilight reading books on magical theory.

“What she said, about having to love you, is true, in a way.” Celestia gazed out the window, watching a trio of flickering stars as a tiny smile played at her muzzle. “Sol is my Love. I can’t imagine life without her presence. But, it’s not an obsessive love, either. I don’t need to be with her at all times, or anything of that nature. Nor is it the love that is shared between mother and daughter, or between spouses. The love I share with Sol, that Luna has for Selene, and I know you have for your stars is its own, unique and special kind of love. Cadence has confirmed as much. From that goofy grin you have, I see you agree.”

Twilight lifted a hoof to her muzzle, discovering that she did have a lopsided smile plastered on her face. It was true, despite having only been an alicorn for five nights, Twilight couldn’t imagine her life without the stars.

“Maybe,” Twilight said, her smile widening. “Their constant little hum of conversation at the back of my mind. The way they always shine a little brighter when I pay them attention. Or any of the ever growing list of little quirks they possess. Arrakis has the cutest little squeak when she first wakes up… It’s all rather endearing.”

Her cheeks almost hurting from grinning so wide, Twilight’s thoughts drifted towards the stars shining through the window.

“I really need to properly introduce you to Sol.” Celestia chuckled, returning to her seat and the report she’d previously discarded. “Maybe we can put an end to the animosity between the sun and the stars. Perhaps when you’ve settled a bit more into your role. In the mean-time, what else did Sirius say or indicate about this shade?”

"Not much. About all I got out of her was the shade is far away and that Sirius doesn't consider her a threat to me."

"Well," Celestia said hiding her disappointment with centuries of practice. "That is more than we knew before, at least. It doesn't help us locate the shade, but even the slightest information is welcome." Then, with a practiced tongue, Celestia redirected the conversation. "What about your studies? Still having difficulties with flying?"

"Um, a little."

Celestia gave Twilight a deadpan stare.

"Okay, a lot." Twilight flopped down further into the cushion, her wings stretching out. As they did, small aches and pains in the new flight muscles twinged. "Rainbow keeps saying that all it takes is practice. But the only practice I seem to be getting is falling and crashing. I think we just aren’t suited as student and teacher. She’s arguably the fastest flier alive, but that doesn’t help me with these.”

Twilight extended her large, majestic wings, primary feathers reaching towards opposite walls. Ruffling her feathers, the flickering light from the fire playing across the accented tips in dancing splashes of dark blue and purple.

"Dash has the long slender wings and slight build of the Peregrine sub-race of Pegasi. Like all Peregrines, this gives her exceptional speed, especially while in a dive, and better than average agility. However, a well trained athletic Raven Pegasus can often keep up in a horizontal, or more commonly called, 'flat' race, and are far more agile. Speed, particularly their diving speed, is often a central aspect to Peregrine Pegasi that are part of one of the Legions. The most famous Peregrine Legion is the Wonderbolts, who still serve the Crown as both stunt fliers at shows and as an elite reactionary force if Equestria is threatened. I have Imperial Pegasus wings. They are much larger than a Peregrine’s and more suited to catching rising thermals and soaring. The slotted tips reduce the induced drag and wind vortexes, allowing me to glide for far greater distances and catch thermal updrafts with ease.”

Twilight’s words began to tumble one over the next in a breathless rush the more she spoke until she stopped, readying herself for the next part of her explanation.

Into the gap, Celestia asked, “Have you thought about asking Fluttershy, perhaps? She comes from an Imperial Legion, as I recall.”

“F-Fluttershy?” Twilight’s mouth went dry at the thought of asking Fluttershy to teach her to fly. “N-no, I hadn’t. I… I think it would be better if you taught me how to fly. Or maybe Cadence, if you’re too busy.” Twilight gulped as Celestia lowered the report, sliding it into the pile destined for the furnaces. “I’d ask Luna, but she’s already teaching me how to connect with my stars, and I thought it’d be a bit too much to ask her to teach me how to fly as well.”

“I’d love to teach you, Twilight, but finding the time would be difficult.” Celestia took up the next report in the stack. “As for Cadence, don’t you think her hooves are full enough with Tyr?”

“I guess…” Twilight’s wings drifted back to her side with a sullen droop.

The room grew quiet for several minutes, the only sound the occasional rustle of Celestia picking up a new scroll, and the ticking of the clock on the mantle above the fireplace.

As Celestia set aside one scroll and reached for other, Twilight let out a defeated sigh. “I don't know, I'm starting to think that maybe I just can't fly."

Glancing up, a worried frown touching the corner of her mouth, Celestia turned her full attention to Twilight, putting back down the scroll before she’d even broken its seal.

"You’re not really worried you can’t fly.” Celestia put on a comforting smile. “Why don't you tell me the real reason why you're hiding in my study and not getting your mane primped and washed for the presentation."

For a moment Twilight paled, then she let out a long sigh, tension flowing out of her body.

"I don't know, it just seems, urgh, everything is happening too fast. One day I'm your student and a simple country librarian. Next day, I'm a Goddess. Sure, I've had a few adventures over the years, and yes, I am a Countess, but this, this is pretty steep on the learning curve. Now I have thousands of voices that all treat me like a long lost friend. I'm taking a crash course, often literally, in alicorn magic and history. And to top it all off, every pony is tip-hoofing around me like they are walking through a dragon’s horde."

"But none of that is what is truly bothering you, is it?"

Twilight almost regretted going to see Celestia in that moment. Her mentor was too wise and knew Twilight too well to miss the truth.

"It... It's my friends," Twilight finally admitted, as much to herself as to Celestia. "They are all so happy for me, even Applejack and Fluttershy who are worried about how this will change things. Rarity is skipping and singing so much it'd be easy to confuse her for Pinkie. But all I can think about when I am around them is how all too soon all there will be left of them is a stone marker in a cemetery."

Celestia sighed, stepping around her desk so she could drape a wing over Twilight’s withers and pull her into a gentle hug.

"Twilight, I know I don't have to tell you this, you've already had these conversations with Spike when he'd get sad and depressed about how he'd outlive every pony, but I'll tell you what my mother told me. None of the mortal races know how long their time will be on this world. All too often they are claimed young by events outside their control; war, disease, or simple accidents are always waiting. The best we can do is cherish the time we have with them and then remember them when they pass.

"So, don't hide from them because you are afraid of tomorrow. Laugh, love, live and enjoy today. It will hurt, I won't lie. Oh, how it hurts sometimes, but they wouldn't want you to squander eternity in misery or mourning their passing. Especially while they are still around. The pain will fade and in time you'll make new friends. Just as I have done. Through it all, you'll always have Luna, Cadence and I, and probably Tyr too, now."

Twilight nodded, slowly, a tightness clutching at her heart. No tears came however, not yet at least.

"Thanks Princess," Twilight said, giving her mentor a weak but genuine smile as she started to stand. "I needed that reminder."

"I will always be here for you, Twilight, always," Celestia replied, nuzzling Twilight gently. "Now, you better start getting ready for tomorrow. It's going to be a big day."

“The stars are acting funny again, Orenda. They should not be moving like that. Oh, no, no, no, they should not. Shooting and racing on occasion; yes. Rotate a bit each night: for certain. But this dancing and weaving? Whatever is happening up there? Bad omens… Bad omens...”

Gilda’s sleep encrusted eyes slid open as the thick rolling voice tumbled through her ears. Groaning at the pain lancing through her side, she tried to turn over on the small bed but found herself strapped down. All drowsiness vanished as she spotted the rope lashed around her body, binding her to the bed. For a few moments she struggled against her binds, stretching and gasping in futility. Taking short ragged breaths, Gilda looked around for something she could use to free herself.

She saw nothing but pots and potions of every colour filling the shelves that lined the walls. In the center of the room bubbled a cauldron over a large fire. Carved masks glared down on the griffon from their perches on the walls.

“Where the buck am I?” Gilda snarled as she pulled and tugged.

“Bah, silly fox, of course stars shouldn’t dance.” The voice gave a dismissive snort. “Not proper. Not natural.”

Gilda stopped struggling as the rhythmic tap of wood and hooves signaled the voice’s approach. Bound and helpless, Gilda snapped her eyes half-shut so she could peer at the beads hanging in the doorframe and see who had captured her without him knowing she was awake.

“Zubu know you are awake, cat-bird,” the voice said as the beads were swept aside by a staff to let a crippled zebra into the hut. “He raised seven daughters and taught five apprentices. Knows when someone fakes sleep, Zubu does. You are not very skilled at it, either.”

Snorting, Gilda tried to sit up, the bed clattering as the ropes grew taught.

“Who are you? Where the buck am I?” Gilda snarled the questions, straining and thrashing a few times.

“Before you stands the Mighty and Mostly Magnificent Zubu, at your service,” Zubu gave an awkward bow, before leaning his staff next to the door and hopping towards Gilda. “And you are in his home in the Great Ape Jungle. Well, just inside, actually. On the edge, more or less.”

Gilda froze, her blood turning to ice. She and Blinka had heard legends and stories about the jungle and the large white apes that lived beneath its shade. Terrible beasts that hunted anything that intruded on their home and could move through the treetops like ghosts. Griffons that flew too low were said to be grabbed by vines and pulled down to waiting claws and fangs. Even the most hardened and strongest griffons of the aerie had trembled when giving the warnings to the un-exiled griffons.

“Don’t you worry none. Those savage brutes live much further into the jungle.” Zubu chuckled as he approached, using his good hoof to lift a compress from the side of Gilda’s chest.

She craned her head to look and saw a patch of shaved fur and plucked feathers right where her coat merged with her crest. A wave of embarrassment flashed through her as he tutted and slathered on a thick pungent smelling ointment.

“Besides, Zubu has bargain with them. He stick to his territory. They keep to theirs. Good bargain. Fair bargain. They very honourable… for beasts.” Zubu gave an untroubled chuckle as he began applying a fresh bandage. “You are healing well. Had him worried for a while as you slipped in and out of the deep sleep. Thought you’d be joining your ancestors more than once. But Zubu knows his arts well, yes he do. Used last of the Mungus Root, so there will be little that can be done for the aches and pains you will surely feel. How do you feel?”

Gilda blinked dumbly at the question. She felt... sore. Her wings, legs, back, even her beak was sore. Taking a hiss of breath, she looked away from the zebra, not willing to admit how terrible she felt. He just chuckled some more as he began to undo the ropes binding her.

“Apologies for the ropes, but you would thrash about terribly when you had nightmares during the fever and infection. Orenda suggested the bindings.”

“Orenda?”

“Orenda!” Zubu gestured to the flames kissing the cauldron, a wide manic grin on his wrinkled face. “She’s rather shy. Doesn’t like strange cat-birds… Ha-ha!”

“Uh huh,” Gilda muttered as the last rope was loosened. Rolling off the bed, Gilda had to fight off a wave of exhaustion and nausea that assaulted her, making the hut spin. “Listen, thanks, I guess, for helping me, but I need to find my cousin and Talona.”

“The foal-goddess? Daughter of Wisdom and Slaughter? Such an odd combination. Wisdom and Slaughter? Never heard of them before. But Zubu hardly keep track of the Goddesses… She is in the aerie.” Zubu tossed the rope into a corner, next to a pile of mushrooms and old rags. “As for your cousin, she was young griffon? Broken wing, yes?”

Gilda nodded slowly, mostly because her head spun and her stomach clenched with the slightest movement.

“She is dead.”

The words were said with simple finality. No preamble, nothing to soften their blow, just the hard truth. Gilda’s beak fell open and she slumped on the cot.

“Dead? So... they killed her? Because of a broken wing?”

“That is the way of the cat-birds. To ‘Return to the Disc’ those that cannot contribute. In doing so they feed the grass, as the grass feeds the gazelle, and the gazelle feeds the cat-bird. A soldier who cannot fly, what good is she?”

“She could have been helped! Or had done something not flying related if it was impossible to fix her wing!” Gilda stood in a rush of anger, and almost as quickly toppled over, her head barely missing the cauldron and fire.

“You are both exiles-in-return, yes?”

Gilda nodded as she was helped back onto the cot.

“Then you are not craft-birds or nobility. Soldiers are all you are seen as having a use for, nothing more. Not as scholar, baker, or butcher. Not even as manual laborer. But to fight for the aerie and hunt for the aerie and die for the aerie. That is cat-bird way.” Zubu clicked his tongue and made a tut-tut. “It is a waste.”

Moving around to the other side of the hut, Zubu began to root and shift through shelves. As he did Gilda sat staring off into space. She couldn’t believe that Blinka was gone, left to rot beneath a tree. Since losing Rainbow Dash’s friendship, Blinka had been the only other soul Gilda really knew or interacted with. There were only three griffon families in all of Equestria, and none of the other exiles had liked Gilda any more than the ponies of Ponyville.

It had been Blinka who consoled Gilda when she’d flown back to the roost. It had been Blinka that had pulled Gilda out of the funk and depression that losing Rainbow Dash had caused. It had even been Blinka who suggested they travel a bit, visit the other exile colonies. It had been Gilda, though, who wanted to go to the aeries when they heard word of their exile being renounced if they joined the army.

Now, the one remaining friend she had on the disc was gone, stolen from her by the general of Southstone when all she and her cousin had wanted was to find a new home. A low growl rumbled in Gilda’s chest as she looked at her talons.

They had taken Blinka from her, left her for dead, and they had the alicorn foal. She had nothing, was nothing. She could hardly stand on her own four legs.

“That is a very bad look, mmm, yes it is,” Zubu said from where he’d been watching. “You’re thinking of doing something very stupid, Mm Hm.”

“They took Blinka from me,” Gilda whispered, tensing her talons. “I’m just going to repay them.”

“Revenge, it is not the way.” Zubu shook his head.

“Yeah, well I’m not some lame old cripple,” Gilda snarled. “Ponies, Zebras, you’re all the same. Run away rather than face your problems head on.”

Zubu’s face grew dark and stormy, his good eye turning into a dangerous black pearl. In a flash he crossed the hut, his face so close to Gilda’s she couldn’t avoid the stench of tobacco and rotten teeth on his breath. His mangled leg shot up, jabbing a short stick underneath Gilda’s beak.

“Zubu will forgive that comment because you are ignorant, little cat-bird.”

Sneering at the supposed threat, Gilda made to brush the stick aside. Quick as a cobra, Zubu grabbed her wrist and twisted it back, pain flaring through the limb.

“Ow, hey!” the Gilda yelped as she found herself unable to move.

“Youngsters, so headstrong and arrogant, especially you cat-birds. Quick to lash out and think Ioka owes you something. Never stopping to think or wonder if tragedy could have been avoided. If a father needed to bury his children.” Zubu released her, huffing as he turned away, his tail slapping her across the face.

Sitting in stunned silence, Gilda massaged her tender wrist.

“You need to rest. There will be no taking vengeance tonight or for the next many nights. Rest now. There’ll be time enough for talk in the morning.” Zubu grabbed his staff from beside the door and stepped out into the jungle.

Left alone, Gilda rested her head back on the lumpy pillow, nursing the pain in her body and heart. Tears soaked her pillow long before she fell back to sleep, only one thought in her mind; finding the general and making her suffer the same pain Gilda felt.

Everything was ready.

The throne room had been decorated in plum coloured tapestries while lavender, lilies, roses, and carnations sat in bouquets next to the rows of seats, under the windows, or had their petals spread along the lush carpet leading to the dais that normally held the Solar and Lunar thrones. In the thrones’ place rested a pedestal with a replica of the Element of Magic on top.

Ponies from across Equestria had gathered, filling the courtyards and squares of Canterlot. Most tried to get as close to the castle as they could, watching the stained glass windows of the palace's north facing side with rapt attention. News of the coronation had reached as far away as Vanhoover in the northwest and the Crystal City to the northeast. For days a steady stream of dignitaries and officials had been arriving. Unlike the commoners, they would be seated in the throne room.

The nobility began to arrive hours before the start of the ceremony, the heralds calling out the dignitaries names and their titles. They strode forward with their heads held high and in their finest clothes to take their seats. A few looked with envious eyes at the front rows of seats, those reserved for Twilight's family and friends.

Safely ensconced away from the nobles, Twilight sat in the middle of a chattering cloud of mane products, make-up, and giddy voices. The room was full, almost packed so tight that it was hard to move. Along with Rarity and Velvet, Twilight was joined by her herd-mothers; Whisper and Glitterdust, and all of her sisters; Limelight, Pennant, Star, Elegant, and Melody. It had been years since Twilight had really seen her family, the last time being Shining’s wedding.

That was not a fondly remembered reunion, and not just because of the Changeling invasion.

Of all Twilight’s parents, Whisper Runes had been the greatest influence on Twilight, overshadowing Glitterdust, and even Velvet to a large extent. It was Whisper that Twilight was the most alike, the two sharing the same joys of scholarly activities with little regard for the world beyond their musty old books. Whisper was forever working on a magnum-opus meant to begin perhaps a fourth Reformation. Soft spoken, but with a sharp tongue, Whisper only left the House manor to spend time with one of her wives, usually Glitterdust.

On the other end of the spectrum was Glitterdust, an outgoing youngish mare, bursting with life, energy, and an easy playful heart that reminded Twilight so much of Pinkie. She had married into the herd shortly after Twilight’s arrival. Closer to Shining than Twilight, Glitterdust brought a flair and joy into the herd that had been lacking with Comet’s stoic indifference, Whisper’s bookishness, and Velvet’s preoccupation with the House’s affairs.

Whisper’s daughters, Limelight and Pennant, couldn’t be more different from Twilight in their own, unique ways. Three and four years Twilight’s junior, they had been as much a constant in Twilight’s formative years as Shining and their brother, Two-Step. Limelight, appropriately enough, had taken after Glitterdust, while Pennant, ever envious of Twilight, had sought to prove herself by joining the navy. Twilight had lost touch with both, as she had most of her family, when she’d entered Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. From the way Pennant’s mouth pinched, she’d lost none of her resentment. Limelight, in contrast, shone with joy as she sat sipping a glass of wine beside Rarity.

Star, the eldest of Glitterdust’s foals, had just turned fifteen. She was following in Twilight’s hoofsteps, having entered Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns the previous year. Though, it probably had more to do with Velvet than herself, Twilight admitted. Unlike her sisters, Elegant and Melody, Star hated being a Lesser Daughter of House Sparkle. Not that she hated the House, nothing could have been further from reality. Star desired nothing more than being named House Matron, a title that was forever out of her reach, and now out of Twilight’s as well.

Chatting about fashion, art, and music with Rarity, the twins, Elegant and Melody, were still foals. Elegant had found her mark in dance the previous autumn, and all she could talk about was how she was going to perform on Manehatten’s broadway. Melody still hadn’t found her destiny, though everypony in the family knew that she was a prodigy with the violin and her mark would inevitably involve music in some capacity.

This left only Twilight’s father and brothers as missing from the room. They were already seated, or, in Shining’s case, performing their own tasks to prepare for the presentation. Other than Shining, Twilight had two brothers; Two-Step, a philosophy student, and the foal of the family, Adamant.

As a stage designer in Manehatten, Glitterdust bonded with Rarity almost at once, the pair attacking Twilight’s mane and makeup with an unreserved fervor. Whisper sat back in a corner, watching over her horn-rimmed glasses while Velvet chatted amicably at Twilight’s side.

Twilight couldn’t recall exactly what her mother had been talking about, only that her voice was creating a pleasant and warm blanket within the room. Still, it could do little more than smooth the outer edges of the anxiety prowling through Twilight.

"You sure you're okay, darling?" Rarity asked for the tenth time. She'd been growing increasingly concerned by the twitch in the corner of Twilight's eye and how the alicorn constantly glanced towards the windows as if searching for an easy escape route.

"Y-yeah, I'm good," Twilight muttered between breaths. She'd been going through her breathing exercises for the last half hour as the moment to step into the throne room and be judged by all those waiting ponies approached. Her eye twitched again as the thought passed through her head.

“Of course the oh-so-perfect Twilight is ‘good’,” Pennant snorted, fussing over her uniform for the seventh time.

“Knock it off, Pen,” Limelight snarled, her hoof lashing out to playfully hit her sister over the back of the head, and in the process making a mess of Pennant’s mane.

While Pennant and Limelight began to squabble, the others shared concerned looks that told Twilight none were convinced, but didn't prod her further. It took Rarity only three point four seconds before her eyes were shimmering with delight as an excited giggle made her mane bounce.

“Almost there, Twilight, just hold still a little longer.”

"This is so exciting," Melody cooed, folding her hooves beneath her chin and giving Twilight dreamy eyes. “To think, in a few minutes you'll be a crowned Princess of Equestria.”

“Actually, I wont be,” Twilight said, giving her sister as warm a smile as was possible with her rioting nerves. For what felt the hundredth time, Twilight explained how she wasn’t a Princess of Equestria. At least, as far as anypony knew.

“But, you could be,” Elegant pressed, leaning onto the counter.

“Elegant, mind your manners. We don’t lay on counters,” Glitterdust softly chided, not looking up from her work on Twilight’s mane.

Like Rarity, Glitterdust wore a pronounced smile as she chatted and fussed over Twilight.

"I’ve wondered about this day since you showed up in that little basket,” Whisper commented, adjusting her glasses before giving a nervous laugh. “Vel’s always been so overprotective of you, as well. You should have seen the look on her face when we received news of Nightmare Moons’ defeat, the return of Princess Luna, and your role in events. I thought she was going to have a heart attack.”

“Or march on Canterlot and demand how Celestia could send Twily to battle an ancient, evil goddess,” snickered Glitterdust.

“I made a binding promise,” Velvet said with a roll of her eyes, “one I intended to keep.”

“Only because you’ve been enchanted,” Whisper snorted derisively.

There was no response to the comment, Velvet clamping her mouth shut while Twilight just stared straight ahead into the mirror. Focusing on her reflection kept her mind away from over-analyzing her mother’s geas.

Her make-up was both plain and stylish, a prime example of less being more, making her eyes seem brighter. The way her mane curled around her head and neck almost made her features seem longer. Squinting a little, Twilight realized that they were longer. Luna and Celestia had both said Twilight would grow a bit and change to fit her new role, but she hadn't thought it would happen so fast. Turning her head to examine the sharp angular lines of her face, lines that echoed the other alicorns, Twilight admitted she looked beautiful.

"Shining was always so curious where you came from those first few years. And don’t get me started on the rest of the House,” Velvet said in a voice of mock scandal. “I thought for sure somepony would figure out that you were adopted, or fostered, or whatever you want to call it. And when Celestia showed up on our doorstep with the royal guard in tow, well, I almost fainted on the spot."

“No, you didn’t.” Whisper smirked behind her glasses. “You almost attacked her with the fire-poker when she picked Twilight up and cradled her.”

“Wish I could have seen that,” Glitterdust hummed while pinning Twilight’s mane behind an ear.

Elegant and Melody giggled, the latter making her voice deeper as she said, “You will not harm my precious, Sun Nag!”

“Melody! Language!” Velvet and Glitterdust said at the same time, the combined weight of their parental authority making the twins wilt.

"That must have been terrible, having such a secret and not being able to share it," Rarity's voice held a bit of scandalized sympathy. "I don't know if I could have managed it."

"It wasn't so bad, actually. Because..."

"Because of the geas," Twilight finished when her mother's voice drifted off. "I'm going to find a way to remove it, mother."

"Oh, no need to worry. I've grown used to the... it." Velvet shook her head before reaching into a drawer with her magic and pulling out a small box. “Besides, if you haven’t noticed, it seems to be weakening now you’ve Awakened.”

“What’s that?” Melody and Elegant asked together, leaning towards Velvet to get a better look.

“This,” Velvet began as she opened the box, “was in the basket with your sister. It belongs to you, Twilight.”

Within the box sat a simple platinum chain and locket. There was little to catch the eye, only a few swirling motifs around a strange symbol Twilight didn’t recognise. What the eye could not see but Twilight could feel were the spells and enchantments weaved deep into the metal. Twilight discerned three different protective wards along with a few she couldn’t recognise.

“She’s going to come?” Twilight asked, her voice almost flat, if not for a hint of hope as she stared at the locket. “My birth mother, I mean.”

Slipping the locket over Twilight’s head, Velvet said, “Your mothers are all going to be here, Twilight. All of the ponies who care about you will. Of that you can be certain.”

Twilight was uncertain if she really wanted to wear the necklace, but relented, realising it could be the entirety of her birth mother's presence. Adjusting the necklace, she took a deep breath, and said, “I guess I’m ready then.”

A few moments later a knock on the door and a voice calling through the wood announced that the last of the nobility and dignitaries had been seated. Taking a long breath, Twilight stood with absolute care not to damage the dress Rarity had crafted.

It was one of the most gorgeous gowns Twilight had ever seen. Tiny diamonds, one for every star in the night, had been sewn into the hems and down the train. The fabric itself was dyed a midnight blue much like her gala gown so that it almost seemed to be an extension of Twilight's mane. Shoes of matching platinum adorned her hooves. To finish the ensemble, her mane had been primped and styled so it fell in bouncing ringlets and curls about her face and down her left side, the magical stars that had appeared when she'd Awakened shining brighter than ever.

Together they walked to the throne room's entrance, and there Rarity and Twilight’s mothers gave her a quick nuzzle before slipping through the doors, leading her sisters to their seats.

Twilight was not alone, however, waiting in the hallway. Next to the door, a wide grin on her face, was the Lady Chamberlain, Mrs. Festive Dust, a sprightly, active pony that had been coordinating all the castle’s functions—official or otherwise—for the past decade. While Twilight couldn’t call Festive a friend, she’d never had any problems with the mare, and the two had gotten along fairly well the few times Twilight had been involved in the arrangements for a function as Celestia’s student.

Beside Festive, in her best robes, stood the Revered Speaker for Canterlot, and all the lands beneath the city’s gaze, Blessed Harmony. Like all priestesses, her coat was dyed a snowy white and her mane a rusty red in imitation of the Namegiver. Twilight had only met the Revered Speaker once, when she’d accidentally barged in on a meeting between the Speaker and Celestia. She was also, perhaps, the most important non-alicorn in all Equestria as the head of Notra-Dame de la Chanson. As the only city to have a resident alicorn year-long, Canterlot’s cathedral and priestesses wielded an enormous burden and power.

“Twilight,” Blessed said, making a deep bow before Twilight, right leg stretched forward, left bent beneath her barrel, and hind legs straight. “It is an honour to meet you again.”

“Revered Speaker,” Twilight replied, having to fight the urge to return the bow. “Thank you, for doing this.”

“This is as much Celestia’s doing as mine, child.” Blessed’s eyes sparkled with inner delight and mirth as she slowly rose out of her bow. “Though, I will admit I forced her hoof this time. I nor the Namegiver desires a repeat of what happened with Luna’s return.”

“Yeah… I’ve heard the stories of what happened in Canterlot.” Twilight gave a half-hearted chuckle.

Blessed shared the laughter, hers truer than Twilight’s, while Festive just shuddered.

“It was an interesting night. Cadence ready to face her mother in a confrontation between good and evil that would have been sung through the ages. The nobles running hither-tither like chickens with a fox in the coup. Celestia missing. Panic, confusion, and allegiances showing their true strengths and natures. And then, when things seemed darkest, you brought us back the light.” Blessed went to Twilight’s side, leading her slowly to the door, and then back to the far wall in a slow circle as she spoke. “We—the Sisterhood, that is—had been aware for some time of Luna’s imminent return, but were unsure how it would be resolved. Only that the stars would herald the return of one Goddess, and the impending arrival of another. After that night, I knew it had to be you. It explained so many of Celestia’s actions towards you, Twilight.”

“You’ve known all this time?”

“Suspected, inferred, and been as certain as we could possibly be; yes.” Blessed gave Twilight another amused laugh as Twilight scrunched her face in annoyance.

Huffing, she looked away from the Revered Speaker. “You could have told me, or sent me a letter, or something.”

“It is not our way to interfere in the affairs of the Namegiver, nor her herd. We are here to serve, both the Goddesses and those under your care. It is our way to gather all that you have to teach, and ensure that it is passed on to ponykind.” Blessed stopped pacing, moving to stand in front of Twilight. “It was Celestia’s prerogative to tell you the truth, and non-others.”

Twilight tilted her head at the declaration, a frown playing acros her painted lips. “What? Not my mothers’ role; birth or foster? What about Luna or Cadence? Cadence is—was, no is my sister-in-law, shouldn’t she have said something?”

Blessed merely shrugged. “I do not presume to know why the goddesses chose not to inform you sooner. If I were to guess, Your Highness, it is because they desire one outcome, but know in their hearts it will be another.”

The honourific didn’t escape Twilight’s notice, her ears pricking forward. “You know who my birth mother is.”

“The Namegiver has shown me as much, yes.”

“Who is she?” Twilight felt her mouth go dry at the question escaped her. “And, please, don’t say, ‘All will be revealed’. I don’t need the cryptic mysticism right now.”

Moving to the door to the throne room, hoof placed upon its ancient, white-oak, Blessed didn’t answer, only continued to smile. Then she moved into the throne room to a roar of applause and stamping hooves that ended when the Revered Speaker reached the dais and the Canterlot Royal Choir began to sing 'Sure on this Shining Night'.

“It’s time,” Festive said, taking her place before Twilight, and leading her through the doors and towards where Equestria's Princesses stood. On either side sat the nobility and dignitaries, a sea of peering and curious eyes. For most this was their first time seeing the young alicorn. Focusing straight ahead, and not tripping on her dress, Twilight studiously ignored the looks of awe or curiosity given by the crowd. As she passed, Twilight looked to her right taking reassurance in her friends and family.

All of whom were smiling.

The entirety of House Sparkle was present, from great uncle Pumice Sparkle to all of Twilight’s aunts, uncles and cousins, and her mother’s herd. Even with the branch members, they weren’t many in numbers, barely over a few dozen. House Sparkle was a small House, but a proud, happy, and inordinately powerful one with its connections to the crowns and House Invictus.

Once more the House’s heir, Lady Sateen Sparkle and her only foal, Tartan Sparkle, sat beside Twilight’s immediate family. Twilight knew very little of either, only that her aunt Sateen was a small, frail mare while her daughter was brooding and perpetually angry. When Twilight had spent time with her cousin, Tartan had picked on her fiercely. Not to the point of cruelty, but a constant, oppressive wave of envy and dislike. Tartan had been jealous of her, Twilight realised in later years, with mothers that were strong and didn’t dote or smother her. Today Tartan was all grins and laughter, holding her mother’s hoof in her own, and mouthing encouragement as Twilight passed the isle.

Behind the Sparkles were the Armours. House Armour and House Sparkle were long allies, stretching back hundreds of years. Twilight’s father was born to House Armour, though he didn’t care much for the name. ‘Namegiver, please give me daughters, so they’ll have much more sensible names,’ he’d often grumbled during Twilight’s younger years. In the Equestrian tradition, sons were named for their father’s original House. As he was named Comet, all Twilight brothers carried the Armour House-name, not just Shining.

Shining, as a member of House Invictus, was off to one side of the dais with Tyr. Chest puffed out, the medals and badges he’d earned during the Changeling invasion and his service before that polished until they glowed like brass and silver stars, he gave Twilight the widest grin of all, and a brotherly wink.

Tyr fidgeted with the frilly pink dress she’d been made to wear, a combination of confusion and sullen misery on her young face. For all the world could see she was simply an ordinary unicorn adopted by Shining and Cadence. Underneath the false exterior, Twilight could still sense the truth of Tyr’s nature, a thrumming nexus of caged aether that tickled along the tips of Twilight’s feathers and mane. It gave Twilight an inkling of how Celestia and Cadence had been so certain about her own future and past.

An honour guard formed ranks between the nobles and the dais, their faces masks of practiced stoicism as they watched Twilight pass. The unicorns, a mix of dragoons and battle-mages, all wore swords strapped to the sides. The Earth guards leaned on pikes, while the Pegasi appeared to only wear their polished armour.

Twilight barely suppressed a little smile as she ascended the dais in slow measured steps. Atop the dais, Twilight bowed to the gathered the princesses in turn; going from Celestia to Luna before finally Cadence. Around her hundreds of ponies watched with bated breath as the princesses each bowed in return. Cadence's eyes danced with mirth as she lingered a little in her bow before she rose.

All three princesses wore gowns similar to Twilight's. None were as elaborate, but all seemed designed to showcase the Princess' aspect. Celestia's had light golden and brassy yellow tones trimmed with rubies and scarlet creating the impression of sunrise. Luna's was a pale silver like moonlight had been turned into a shroud and draped over her. Pinks and reds swirled together in heart shaped patterns throughout Cadence's gown. The sight of one would have been enough to steal most pony's breaths. Together they left the crowd speechless.

Taking a deep breath, Twilight turned to face the crowd. Her outer expression of supposed calm almost shattered at the eyes staring up at her. She was anything but calm, all the eyes not belonging to her family and friends seemed to judge her. A short bench had been prepared for Twilight, draped in a cover of royal purple and white trim. Fortifying herself, Twilight settled on the bench, Celestia, Luna, and Cadence behind her.

The voices of the choir swelled then ended, leaving a blanket of silence in their wake.

Collectively, every pony present held their breath, each fearing to be the one to intrude on the moment. In a steady clip-clip, Blessed moved to stand before Twilight. The Revered Speaker bowed, first to Twilight, then to each princess in turn, before turning to face the crowd.

“It is recorded in the Book of Harmony that it was when Ioka was young that the Namegiver appeared among pony-kind, along with her sister, the Springbringer. And, while the Springbringer has since left us, the Namegiver has remained to guide and care for all ponykind.”

Blessed’s voice boomed through the throne room as she spoke, intoning the words in solemn reverence for each.

“Though it has been many years since she last appeared among us, her presence is felt every day of our lives. It is in the peace and harmony we enjoy. The safety to raise our foals and enjoy the comforts of our herds. And, in the names by which we are known. Each is her first and greatest gift to each and every one of us, and though they don’t always make sense at first, our names each speaks to our deeper connections to the disc and each other.”

Pausing, Blessed looked over the crowd, and though she focused on no pony in particular, every pony in the crowd knew she was looking at them, and only them.

“For over a thousand years, since the Age of Chaos was brought to an end, we have been protected and guided by the Namegiver’s daughters; Celestia Invictus and Luna Invictus; and her grand-daughter, Cadence Invictus. And now, another joins them in the sacred stewardship of us all.

“Ladies and Lords, honoured guests, and friends, I here present unto you, Her Highness, Twilight Abigail—”

Twilight had begun to rise when a sharp crack and the smell of ozone broke through the hall. Twilight winced as the powerful, ancient protective spells woven through the walls began to pop like fireworks, showering the guests with rainbow sparks. A second crack followed the first, the remaining wards sundering beneath a hammering blow of magic.

A silver light blinked into being at the midpoint of the aisle, spinning and flashing, pure aether pulsing from it like a heartbeat.

While Celestia and Luna shared worried looks, Cadence leaned towards the doors with more curiosity than alarm on her face. Throughout the hall ponies looked around, some whispered questioningly if the display was part of the ceremony. They couldn't feel what Twilight and the princesses sensed.

Or what Tyr felt, apparently, as the filly began to scream.

"It's Hera!" Tyr yelled at the top of her voice as she dived beneath Cadence.

Twilight barely had time to wonder who Hera was before the orb grew in size, double once, twice, and then over and over until it formed a dome that filled the aisle. The nearest ponies edged away, panicked whinnies breaking out across the throne room. Narrowing her eyes, Twilight could see dozens upon dozens of runes rolling in perfect lines across the shell of the spell. Some wavered in and out of existence, while others seethed and hissed. A few of the runes twisted and spun in on themselves, denying any hope of clearly identifying all the runes in use.

Collapsing in on itself, the spell ended, revealing a tall pony wrapped in a green traveler’s cloak. Spotted white fur trimmed the cloak, and golden shod hooves clicked in the sudden silence that had fallen over the hall like a death-shroud as she shifted to look around. Though the cloak was drawn up so it covered her features, it did little to hide the newcomer’s nature from the crowd. Through slits in the cloak's side sat a pair of snow white wings and a long slender horn thrust forth from hole in the hood. A timid murmur of confusion began to sweep the crowd.

In her ears Twilight could hear her heart hammering. Her throat clenched shut and a few simple words echoed through her head, 'Is this my mother?'

The scent of rainy mornings and pine needles wafted over Twilight. It was vaguely familiar, like the memory of a dream. Twilight began to take a step towards the uninvited alicorn, only to be stopped as Celestia leapt over her and the Revered Speaker with a flap of her wings. Anger and heat rolled off the elder princess in waves, her shoes cracking like thunder as she landed. Shining and the other guards all set their shoulders and stances, those practiced with weapons drawing their blades. They all stood ready to charge to their princess' aide at a moment's notice.

"Iridia, you are not welcome here," Celestia stated, her words filled with fire and venom.

Iridia. A shiver ran up Twilight's back, she knew the name from pre-classical history, from before the founding of Equestria. A terrible tyrant, she had marched at the head of a black army slaughtering all that fell beneath her gaze. Deathgiver, Black Star, She Who Shall Not Be Named, Bloodmaned; many were her titles, none of them pleasant. History recorded that it was Clover the Clever who stood before the Dread Queen and halted her advance, casting her down into the fiery pits that were Tartarus.

"Come now, Tia, there is no need for melodrama or theatrics." The alicorn’s voice was as cold as the light of the spring moon and full of a rich silvery timbre. As she spoke she threw back her hood revealing eyes clear as a pond beneath the morning sun and a mane of honey-suckle yellow with a band of golden wheat. "I apologize if my entrance startled you, but I was running late.”

“You would dare to intrude?” Celestia snarled the question.

“Intrude!? I thought all of Twilight’s family was welcome to her presentation,” Iridia snapped, wings flaring. “I am her mother, after-all. I have a right to be here.”

The declaration sent a shiver through Twilight. Happiness warred with confusion and doubt, leaving her thoughts in scattered disarray. Heart pounding, Twilight glanced between her birth mother and Celestia, watching as the pair glared at each other.

Taking a moment to settle her wings, Iridia continued in a gentler voice.

“This is meant to be a joyous day. We should not be fighting. We can settle our little spat later.” Iridia gave a lopsided smile, “Besides, I thought you’d be happy, Tia, that I did things your mother’s way for once. I fostered Twilight and remained out of her life, giving her the normal foalhood everypony deserves.”

“Happy?” Celestia repeated the word with a harsh, almost disbelieving bite to her voice. “Next you’ll claim to have ‘done what you must’, damning the consequences and ignoring who you have harmed in the process. You hide behind those words like they are a shield. If you truly cared, you would have been here sooner. You would have at least been a presence in her life.”

“I arrived as quick as I could, but I am not without responsibilities of my own. If you had deigned to give me appropriate notice, this whole debacle could have been avoided. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to slip out of Thornhaven for even a few hours? Or maybe this was all a ploy to draw out my sister. Is that it? Did you try to set a trap using my daughter?”

Eyes widening in disbelief, Celestia advanced a step. In a low voice she said, “Leave, now, and never return to my lands.”

Face contorting as if she’d been struck, Iridia took a half-step back. She glanced from Celestia to the ceiling, her brow pinching in thought, before nodding once and looking over to Twilight as she said, “Daughter, I am sorry. Should you wish to find me, come to our castle in Reinalla. Just… be wary if you do.”

Iridia began to turn, the motion making Twilight take a quick step forward and reach out with a platinum shod hoof.

“What? No. I... Please," Twilight looked between Celesia and Iridia, "both of you, stop."

“Agreed. Sister, please.” Luna went to Twilight’s side.

Celestia looked between her sister and Twilight, then to Iridia. With a sharp turn, Celestia said, “No, not in this. That… monster is not welcome in my presence.”

“I see I can not make you acknowledge reason,” Iridia gave her head a slow shake. “You’re as hard headed as the Halla, niece. If you are so intent on this folly, then so be it. It is a mistake, and not an insignificant one.”

Irida began to leave, only to be stopped again by Twilight’s pleading voice.

"Wait."

Ponies throughout the throne room started at the forlorn note in the voice, and for a moment Twilight was also confused having not intended to sound so desperate.

“Don’t go,” Twilight called. “I have so many questions. I need them answered before this can proceed.”

A low murmur rippled through the crowd as Celestia glanced back at Twilight, a disapproving scowl firmly in place.

“Well, we can postpone the remainder of the ceremony, can’t we? I mean, until we sort this out, right? It shouldn’t take too long, I hope.” Twilight looked between Celestia, Luna, and her parents, before glance over to Blessed.

It was Celestia that answered, stating, “No, we will see this through. Iridia… you may stay.”

Twilight shuddered at the look Celestia gave Iridia, one filled with an ancient loathing. Heat still rolling off her, Celestia turned back to the dais, her tale snapping through the air.

For her part, Iridia just smiled brightly and said, “Very good,” before practically skipping up the dais and settling on a conjured cushion.

As Iridia passed Blessed, the Revered Speaker made a deep bow, saying, “An honour, Springbringer.”

The remainder of the presentation passed mostly in a blur for Twilight. She was too busy completing her breathing exercises while trying to settle her racing heart to pay attention. The constant glances she sent towards Iridia certainly didn’t help either. Blessed restarted her sermon—Twilight was later told it was decent, if a little long winded on the subject of redemption and forgiveness at times—and then presented Twilight properly to the assembly.

“Ladies and Lords, honoured guests, and friends, without any further interruptions, I hereby present unto you, Her Divine Highness, Twilight Abigail Tuilerya; Princess of the Taiga, Goddess of the Stars and Wishes, Nightwatcher, and the Jailer of Chaos.”

Twilight found her mouth falling more and more open as Blessed spoke and then moved to the side, bowing to indicate it was time for Twilight to step forward properly. Much like being unable to recall the sermon, Twilight was in a daze as she gave her own short speech, performing it through rote practice alone. Her friends later assured her that she'd appeared to be a beacon of composure with a strong voice that had resonated out of the throne room and into Canterlot beyond. Her words had been uplifting, calming and reassuring as Twilight had intended when writing the speech.

Then she sat back down while the ceremony was concluded. After the speeches, the Divine Procession began, Blessed Harmony taking the lead, her head held high. There was a moment of confusion as both Celestia and Iridia stepped up to Twilight to take a place at her side.

After glaring at each other over Twilight’s back, they found her starting down the aisle without them, each quickly joining, Celestia on Twilight’s right, and Iridia on her left. Luna then Cadence followed, heads angled at a proud tilt. The choir sang an ancient hymn, one Twilight didn’t recognize as the procession made its way from the throne room and to the gardens, and the gala in Twilight’s honour.

Book One: Chapter Eight: The Gala

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book One: Awakening and Arrivals
Chapter Eight: The Gala

The gentle strings of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra filled the palace gardens, creating a blanket that wrapped around the buzzing conversation. No matter their station within society, the topic was the same; Princess Twilight Abigail Tuilerya, heir of the Taiga, scion of House Sparkle, more than just protégé of Princess Celestia; they were cousins.

Twilight grimaced as she overheard one noble spout to another about how they’d been long friends of House Sparkle, her foals were close friends, even, with the elder Sparkles. Why, her heir was a classmate of Twilight’s!

Doing her best not to interject and inform the Countess of Hackleburry that her daughter had been one of the ring-leaders in the large number of ponies that picked on her, Twilight took a deep breath, smiled, and greeted the next noble in the never-ending line attempting to gain her attention.

At least she had her friends with her, the five creating a buffer of sorts between Twilight and the worst of the nobility. But, as bad as the Canterlot Elite could get, they paled next to the foreign dignitaries. While Equestria’s nobility was a known variable, the foreign ponies were not. Each had their own quirks, both in personality, and in their nations little desires or customs.

“So, Equestria gets another Goddess with which to flaunt its power, does it?” The Hackney ambassador said between low chuckles. Twilight would have assumed he was being either sincere or extremely blunt, if she hadn’t known the stallion for well over seven years. A peace treaty between Hackney and Prance having been a personal quest of Celestia’s during Twilight’s apprenticeship. As it was, she knew the ambassador was attempting to make a joke in his usual dry manner, and failing terribly.

“I don’t think so, Mr. Maison,” Twilight said as she offered a slight nod in return as the ambassador bowed. “As we’ve all just discovered, I’m… Uh… Hmmm…” Twilight tapped her chin as her brow pinched in contemplation. “Well, that my real mother,” Twilight used her hooves to make quotations around ‘real mother’, “is the Queen of the Taiga. I believe that makes me the Crown Princess… or something.”

“Ha-ha! Just so, just so, Twilight Tuilerya!”

Twilight’s face contorted at the name. “Call me Twilight Sparkle, or better yet, just Twilight, or, if you have to, ma’am. But not… that other name.”

Silver Maison looked confused for a few moments, then he gave a slight shrug, saying, “As you wish, Twilight.” Guiding Twilight a few steps from the crowd, as if to gain some privacy, he began to speak in a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve noticed that you’ve… Well, your cousins I suppose, have been growing closer to Prance as of late. It is rumoured that Ambassador de Lis was at your ascension.”

“Well, not exactly. Fleur was visiting a mutual friend—”

“Of course, of course. I wouldn’t dream of implying otherwise. Not everypony is so well informed, however, and they will only see Fleur’s presence at an event of disc altering importance while no other nation was represented. I’m certain you can see how this could prove to be troublesome towards Celestia’s efforts to broker a peace between Hackney and Prance.” Maison tutted.

“What? But that’s not what happened at all!” Twilight groaned, wings ruffling and her tail give a sharp snap.

“I'm certain that there is nothing to worry about. Though, to be on the safe side, it would take little more than joining my family for dinner, say, at the Prancing Pegasus, to smooth things over.”

Twilight was a little taken aback by the abruptness of the suggestion, stuttering a couple syllables before saying, “Yes, that sounds, um, nice. I’m not—”

“Marvelous!” Maison put on a big grin. “I shall have my assistant contact the palace. Would Chronicle or Quick Quill be managing your affairs?”

“Uh, Quick, I think…”

“Very good, very good indeed.” Maison took Twilight’s hoof again as he bid her farewell.

Twilight discovered, to her chagrin, that Maison was the least interested in currying favours or using her to gain some advantage or leverage. One by one they paraded themselves towards her, making a show of appearing friendly. Twilight couldn’t claim to know any of the other ambassadors personally, and their faux friendship grated on her nerves.

Without the constant support of her friends, Twilight wasn’t sure how she’d have managed the flood of attention. While Applejack and Rainbow acted more like guards, Rarity was a deft hoof at keeping the procession flowing.

Slowly, the numbers began to thin, and Twilight found herself starting to relax, her smile coming a little easier. As the ambassador from the buffalo herds finished all-but-demanding Twilight intervene in the latest wave of pony settlers encroaching on the buffalo’s territory, the final pair of dignitaries emerged from the crowd. Twilight’s mouth formed a tight ‘O’ as she looked over see two zebras approaching.

They wore mirroring robes of bright crimson and gold. Bangles and jewels adorned their necks, ears, and the crop of their tails. The zebra in crimson took the lead, a half-length ahead of the other. She was beautiful, while large eyes like polished emeralds highlighted by dark rings and the flowing, angular line of her muzzle and jaw. A ceremonial saber covered in jewels hung at her side, swaying as she strode through the Gala towards Twilight, every step containing a graceful confidence.

The gold robed zebra was almost invisible next to her companion, her only defining characteristic that Twilight could see as being completely plain and average. If not for the unusualness of seeing a zebra in Canterlot, she’d have been entirely forgettable. The tingle of magic in use didn’t surprise Twilight. Only through a spell could somepony so unusual be made so plain.

As so many before them, the pair bowed to Twilight.

“Twilight of the Night, she who sparkles ever so bright,” the zebra in crimson said, her voice containing the same dancing, lyrical tone Zecora used. “An honour and a great delight.”

“Does every zebra speak in rhymes?” Applejack grunted through the side of her mouth to Rainbow, earning an amused snort from her friend, and a scathing glare from Rarity.

Ignoring the trio, Twilight gave a very slight nod to the zebras. “I was unaware that Zebrica had an embassy in Equestria. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance… uh…”

“Paumuut,” the first zebra said, then indicating with a wave of her hoof at her companion, she introduced her as her bodyguard, Leila. “Forgive her. She is uncomfortable around such a strange gathering.”

“She’s one to talk,” Rainbow hissed to Applejack, receiving a light slap from Rarity’s tail in warning.

“The Golden Flame extends her congratulations on your Awakening, and desires of us to convey her regrets at being unable to travel herself so as to be here for this joyous occasion.”

“Thank you, Paumuut,” Twilight was careful in saying the strange name.

“As way of apology, Her Imperial Majesty extends an invitation to join her in the Golden Palace, as well as three hundred weight of aurum bars. She also desired I give you a message.” Paumuut leaned forward, whispering in Twilight’s ear, “Come to Zerubaba, if you seek the third star.”

Twilight tilted her head as Paumuut bowed and then moved off, wishing Twilight a good eve.

“What was that about?” Rainbow wondered, lifting herself into a hover so she could cross her hooves and glare at the departing zebras.

“Your normal political maneuvering, Dash,” Rarity sighed, relaxing as it became obvious that they had a few minutes peace. “Same as every other ambassador and noble this eve. Now, what I’m curious about is this three hundred weight of aurum. Do you know what she meant by that, Twilight?”

“Huh?” Twilight gave a little start, immediately staring back into space as she said, “Oh, I guess she was saying that they were giving me about seventy-five thousand bits worth of gold.”

There was a moment of profound silence from her friends, one that served to bring Twilight out of her contemplation.

“Uh, care to repeat that, sugarcube?” Applejacks eyes had shrunk to the size of pinheads, as if she were staring at a stampeding dragon.

“Well, that’s just an estimate. I’m assuming that the weight of an aurum bar is constant and consistent with those used in Equestria.” Twilight tapped her chin, then shrugged. “I’m more interested in what she meant by, ‘the third star’. I don’t think I’m missing any other than Sirius.”

Before anypony could comment, whether on her status among the exceedingly wealthy, or the message, a shadow fell across Twilight.

“You’re managing rather well, daughter,” Iridia said, emerging like a ghost from the crowd, a nervous smirk playing at the corner of her mouth.

Rarity gave a little snort, while Applejack and Rainbow both pressed their mouths into stern lines. Near the crepes, Celestia gave a dark glower at the back of her aunt’s head, ready to leap to Twilight’s side.

“Mother made sure I was trained in etiquette. I just never needed it before. Well, not often, anyways.”

Iridia winced at the words, her features taking on a stern cast briefly, her eyes cold as the wind blowing down the northern mountain slopes, before returning to a more neutral state.

“I deserve that, and more, I suppose.” Iridia paused to take a relaxing breath. “I would like to settle some things, Twilight. There is much you have to be told, and should have been told sooner.”

Twilight’s ears drooped a little, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so…”

Waving a hoof, Iridia dismissed the apology. “You have every right to be upset with me. If a few snippy remarks are the worst I receive, I will be blessed.” Putting on a calm smile, one that sent a chill up Twilight’s spine at how similar it was to Celestia’s famed ‘mask’, Iridia glanced towards Twilight’s friends. “How about introducing us, yes?”

“Um, okay…”

One by one, Twilight’s friends stepped forward, each making a polite bow followed by some comment and Iridia returning the gesture. Pinkie was her usual hyperactive self. Rarity demurred and batted her lashes while Rainbow gave a curt, ‘Hello’.

It was all very normal.

Until they came to Fluttershy.

“Are you part dryad?” Iridia asked, looking at Fluttershy this way and that after they were introduced. “A grand dame, or great-grand dame, perhaps?”

“N-No. At least, I don’t think so?” Fluttershy looked between her friends, her large eyes begging for support.

“You just have something about your aura. A connection to the earth that is unusual in a pegasus.” Iridia contemplated Fluttershy for several more moments, driving the pegusus beneath Twilight’s wings. “Perhaps it was kept from you…” An abrupt chilly wave flowed from Iridia, setting Twilight’s teeth on edge. It lasted but an instant, warmth following in its wake. “No, it wasn’t. Curious. You’re an odd moss, if you don’t mind my saying.”

“She’s one to talk,” Applejack muttered under her breath to Twilight.

“Maybe we should speak alone for a bit,” Iridia suggested, giving Applejack and Rainbow a sour frown.

“Uh, okay, I guess.” Twilight gave the others an apologetic smile. “Why don’t you enjoy what remains of the Gala, girls?”

Twilight waited for her friends to begin to disperse, each heading off; Applejack to meet a date, Rarity to mingle and hunt for potential clients for her shop, while Pinkie dragged Fluttershy towards the tables the servers were using. Rainbow was the last to move off, flying backwards while firing the universal gesture of ‘I’m watching you’ towards Iridia.

“Let’s find a quieter spot. I don’t want somepony trying to intrude or something.” Twilight shot Celestia and Luna—both finding a reason to hover nearby—a knowing glower as she turned and led the way, taking Iridia past a pile of presents wrapped in shades of purple, pink, and dark blue sat atop a table. There were so many they spilled onto a finely woven Marabian rug. Spike could be seen reclining on the pile, a glass of fruit punch in one claw and a donut in the other, giving a dark look at anypony who went too close to ‘Twilight’s horde’. Melody and Elegant flanked Spike, the pair making a game of being the dragon’s guards.

Reaching a slightly quieter section of the gardens, Twilight turned to face Iridia. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Well, for starters, I wanted to congratulate you on the fine mare you’ve become,” Iridia took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, “and to offer to answer your questions. I know you must have many, my little star.”

“A plethora, of course.” Twilight was unsure whether to snort or smile, so she attempted both, without success. “Right, so, how about something very basic about you. Are you the same Iridia that brought about the Long Winter?”

Iridia managed a laugh, though Twilight noticed a flash of pain behind her birth mother’s eyes.

“Technically it was the second Long Winter. But, yes, I was responsible. In much the same way that Luna became the Nightmare, I… fell, I suppose.” Iridia’s expression grew distant, lost in ancient memories, her voice wandering as she spoke. “It was a dark time, for all of us. Celestia had nearly died. Luna was sick, though none of us realised it at the time. Though, that probably wouldn’t have mattered… much. And my sister…”

Iridia ground her teeth, her face taking on a dark and wrathful cast. It passed, Iridia shedding it with a shiver of her wings. “I wrongfully blamed ponykind for all these things, and so much more. I heaped upon them all the scorn and hatred I could muster and, yes, I sought their eradication. I am also so very thankful that I was stopped.”

Putting on a fragile smile, she began to pace. Her ears flicked a few times, and before Twilight could ask a follow-up question, Iridia asked, “Would you like to dance?”

Without waiting for a reply, Iridia trotted towards the dance floor, determination in her step. One by one, the other dancers made room, giving the alicorns space, and watching with unabated curiosity.

“I can’t dance,” Twilight hissed through her teeth, eyes darting towards the onlookers.

Twilight was well aware of the last time she’d been in these same gardens and the performance she’d given. Her lack of grace wasn’t a concern for herself, but Twilight was loath to embarrass any other pony again.

“Tosh,” Iridia flicked a wing, then pointed up to Arrakis and the star’s sisters, the cluster spinning and weaving above Canterlot. “That you can dance is one of the few things I can claim first hoof knowledge about.” To the conductor she said, “Octavia’s Prelude Five.”

He gave a short nod, then turned to the band, striking his baton twice on his podium. In a flourish, the band struck up a happy, rolling tune, cellos supporting the lighter airs of the violins and piano.

“Now, like old Mrs. Brittlefeather taught you…” There was a mischievous glint in Iridia’s tone that made Twilight miss the first few beats and then scramble to catch up.

It took her a few moments before the old routine fell—mostly—into place; step-step-step, pivot, touch wings, and pivot. Some of the moves felt unnatural to Twilight, many having been practiced when she was little and using imagination. Touching wings in particular took great effort. Concentrating hard on the ghosts of her foalhood, Twilight didn’t realize she was mouthing the dance moves.

Stifling a giggle, Iridia said, “I love the way you do that, sticking your tongue out while you dance. It has always been so endearing”

“How could you possibly know that?” Twilight almost missed another step, her jaw tensing as she struggled to keep pace.

“You don’t truly believe this is the first time I’ve visited, my little star?”

“‘Little star’?” Twilight muttered, trying to focus on the dance. “I haven’t been called that in years.”

Iridia gave a slow shake of her head as the song reached the turning point. “I see so much of her in you. You both have my temper.”

Twilight quirked her brow. “I’ve gotten a lot better, thanks to Cadence.”

“Have you? I recall the time Pennant took Mr. Smarty Pants and hid him behind the kennels.” Iridia began to laugh, only for the sound to fade when Twilight failed to join in. “You’ll have to watch that, my little star. That your anger does not get the better of you.”

Twilight pressed her mouth into a stern line.

“Or when—”

“No!” Twilight took a step back, the word knocking those closest down and interrupting the players, their instruments squealing. “Stop it! You haven’t earned the right to act like that. Velvet Mary Sparkle is my mother. Whisper Runes and Glitterdust are my moms. I don’t even know you!”

“But you do,” Iridia advanced towards Twilight, a desperate shine within her eye. “I was your dance instructor. I was—”

Twilight held up a hoof, disgust etched deep into her face and her heart.

“Stop trying to insinuate yourself into my life and acting like you didn’t abandon me.”

“But I didn’t!” Iridia pressed, her wings extending. “Yes, I had to keep my distance after Celestia entered the picture, and I had to be so damned careful before with Cadence randomly popping into Sparkledale to check up on you. Or, did you think she foal-sat every little noble filly?”

“Not every, but its a well known fact that, yes, she does foal-sit for the noble houses!”

Iridia faltered, floundering for a moment as her argument was so completely defeated.

“You think I wanted to leave you? That it was easy for me?”

“Don’t turn this into being about you!” Twilight gave a low snort, an unnoticed bolt of dark lightning echoing among the stars. “I haven’t even heard a word about my father yet. Who is he?”

“Him? He’s hardly important.”

“Hardly…”

“That’s not… He’s just…”

The fur around Twilight’s eyes turned a shade of powdery white as she took a threatening step towards Iridia. Around the pair the crowd of nobles and assorted guests had to take several steps back, pushed away by a wall of heat broiling off Twilight.

“Just what? Tell me something about him. Anything. If this entire exercise isn’t about you, that is.”

Iridia mimicked Twilight’s earlier snort. “He is… Well, he was a warrior-priest. Roughly the equivalent to a paladin, I believe.” Iridia tapped her hoof a few times, a severe pinch to her brow that slowly softened. “He was kind to his friends, and a terror to his enemies. Gentle, considerate, and undauntable. There was such a fiery glow behind everything he did, a certain conviction of spirit that is rarer than a rose in winter.”

“Was?” Dread bubbled in Twilight stomach, her mouth dry around the word.

“Aye.” Iridia looked away, wings twitching and features haunted. “He is no more.”

At once the heat of anger vanished, Twilight snapping her head back as if she’d been struck.

“What? How?”

“Protecting a group of foals from a pack of Frost Wolves.” Iridia pressed her mouth into pinched line. “I cared for him as deeply as I have for any stallion, and I mourn for him still.”

Twilight was quiet as she digested her father’s fate, settling just behind her heart like a cold weight.

“What was his name?”

“His… name?” A moment passed. Iridia stomped a hoof in annoyance, her voice taking a deadly edge. “What matters his name? He was strong and loyal, with a great passion in his heart. An excellent mate.”

“You don’t even know his name!” Twilight bordered on screeching.

Iridia opened her mouth, a retort dancing on her tongue, only to close it as slow fury began to build behind her cold eyes. “Of course I know his name.”

“Then tell me.”

“No.”

“No?” Twilight took a threatening step towards Iridia, her wings spreading. Polaris, Ankaa, Phad, and Antares rose from her mane. Buzzing like angry bees, they circled above Twilight casting a dark red light. “I need to know.”

“He is gone, Twilight, and I will not provide more that you may replace the father you knew with a ghost.” Iridia was like iron, resolute and unyielding, but brittle. Her tone as much begged as commanded Twilight to stop. Falling back a step, Iridia glanced over the crowd, her gaze settling on Celestia and Luna then flickering back to Twilight. Spreading her wings, she said, “I think it best if we take some time to think things over. We will speak again, when we’re both in a better frame of mind,” before leaping into the air and flying towards a distant tower.

Their postures heavy with guilt and surprise, Celestia and Luna both approached Twilight. Celestia gave the four stars a long, considering look, the small points of light flitting over to dance in front of her nose before zipping back to Twilight and circling about her like a halo.

“I’m sorry, Twilight,” Celestia began, heavy voice heavy with unusual regret.

Twilight’s ears perked up, and she gave a weary chuckle.

“Sorry? What do you have to be sorry about? That my mother was a bloodthirsty tyrant from the pre-classical era? That she won’t just tell me my father’s name?” Twilight gave Celestia a cheeky sort of half-grin in an effort to lighten the mood. It could do little to lift the odd weight that she felt between her shoulders.

Frowning at Twilight’s smile, Celestia wrapped a wing around Twilight, pulling the smaller mare into a hug. “No, for not sending her away the moment she stepped into the throne room.”

Applejack sighed as she and her friends dispersed throughout the gala. Her mane prickled thinking about how Iridia had treated Twilight. It was as if Twilight were nothing more than a feather to be put in her hat. The presumptive arrogance of the mare made Applejack grind her teeth.

After a few steps, Applejack let out her frustrations in a long breath. Dwelling on the queen and her attitude wouldn’t help anypony. Certainly not Twilight.

She was broken out of her thoughts by a voice just behind her.

“Hey, what’s a gorgeous mare like you doing wandering this gala alone?” the voice asked, the smug, playful satisfaction making Applejack’s eyes narrow.

Turning, she was confronted by a powder blue pegasus in a dress uniform. He wore a playful grin that made his eyes dance, like at any moment his was about to laugh for no reason.

“I was beginning to wonder where you’d gotten yourself, Soarin” Applejack sighed, her frustration melting away as she leaned forward to give him a brief nuzzle.

“Funny, I was wondering the same thing. I’ve been looking all over for you since the ceremony ended.” A low chuckle made his barrel shake, a wing touching Applejack across her withers as Soarin guided her towards the dessert tables.

“You didn’t think to look in the middle of all them fancy foreign ponies?” Applejack smiled the question, giving him a playful shove. “Besides, it don’t look like you’ve been suffering.”

Affecting a playful look of hurt, Soarin spread his wings slightly. He was striking in his uniform, dark-blue mane tussled, holding a hoof to his chest. Even the lingering crumbs at the corner of his muzzle were rather fetching. More so, the spicy scent of apple pie on his breath.

“I am wounded, truly. To think I’d prefer pie to the company of the most beautiful mare here.”

Attempting to hold down her laughter, and mostly succeeding, Applejack swatted Soarin across his cutie mark with her tail.

“No need to lay it on so thick. I ain’t one of them porcelain dolls,” Applejack shook her head. “I clean up well enough, but compared to Rarity, or the princesses?”

“Hmm, you’re right. Maybe I should see if Cadence is looking for somepony less starched than the former captain.”

Lifting a brow, Applejack set her jaw into firm, yet still playful, line. “What, and here I thought it’d be Twi’ you’d go chasing after. Celestia knows half the other stallions here have been trying.”

Waving a hoof, Soarin gave a sharp snort, saying, “No offense to your friend, I’m sure she’s great, but have you seen her mothers? That stage designer from Manehatten is the least scary of the bunch, and she reminds me a bit too much of Sgt. Tailwind. Besides, your friend’s a little too bookish. I’d rather a sweet, strong, honest mare that spends her time out under the sun working up a froth.” Soarin leaned over to nip Applejack just below her ear, making her blush until her face was red as a gala apple and glance around to see if they were being watched.

“Cut that out, we’re out in public,” she protested, though she did nothing to stop him repeating the nip. When he attempted a third playful bite, Applejack brought a hoof up along his shoulder and withers, stopping at the base of his wings. She began moving her hoof in a slow, circular motion, one that melted the stallion against her side. Smirking as his eyes became half-lidded and his wings extended further, Applejack said in the most sultry voice she could managed, “If you’re going to be like that, maybe we should excuse ourselves. I do have a room here in the palace, you know.”

Ending the motion, she headed towards the palace doors, swishing her tail playfully. After a few moments, Soarin came out of his stupor, snapping his wings shut with an embarrassed cough.

“That’s not fighting fair,” Soarin called after Applejack, a delighted grin on his muzzle. Trotting quickly to catch up, he only slowed to pick up a pie and some whipped cream.

Tyr trotted along at her foster father’s side, a fake smile plastered on her lips. Her coat prickled being around so many ponies, none of which were bowing or prostrating themselves in her presence. She should have been a center of attention, not a curious side-note of the festivities.

A suggestion had been made early on for Tyr to join the younger Sparkles and the few other fillies and colts. She’d firmly rebuffed the idea, stating in a dull tone that she did not play with mortals.

Shining was stopped, many times, and asked about Tyr, the adults acting as if she wasn’t even present. Each time, Shining repeated the same lies. ‘She was adopted, her real parents having died in a terrible tragedy at sea. No, she had no other living relatives. Yes, he and Cadence were very pleased to be taking care of her. Of course she’d receive all the love and attention a filly required, royal duties or no.’

The ponies would give their condolences, then move off, uncomfortable with the subject of death.

Eventually, the curious ponies thinned out, allowing Shining to wave a waiter over. He asked for some plain punch for Tyr, and a glass of whiskey for himself. Once they had their drinks, Shining carrying Tyr’s for her, they found a bench and sat down.

They’d barely sat down when they were approached by a pony Shining recognised. The newcomer wore a red military uniform that marked him as a member of the Royal Marines, a ceremonial sabre at his side and several medals on his chest. Tyr wondered what, if anything, they symbolised.

“Polished, what brings you to Canterlot?” Shining asked, making a smile Tyr knew had to be fake.

“Well, other than my cousin’s ascencion, you mean?” The other pony asked, giving a broad grin.

“Ha, you and Twilight never got along,” Shining remarked, passing Tyr her drink. “I thought you were stationed aboard the Revelation, out of St. Cookie. Hunting pirates, or something.”

“Keeping an eye on our Hackney and Prench cousins, as well,” Polished laughed, the sound easy and free. “We had to return home, empty hooved, again. The pirates have shifted their attention out of Equestrian waters, and when they do come close to our shores, they always fly false flags. Little we can do about it. The mules’ papers check out every single time. I’d almost swear somepony within the Admiralty is giving the pirates blank papers to fill as they please.”

Polished shook his head, then added in an indignant huff, “Besides, we only met once, Twilight and I.”

“Yes, when you stole cousin Tartan’s ice cream and blamed it on Twilight.”

“Did I?” Polished tapped his chin, then shrugged. “I can’t really remember.”

Tyr frowned at all the unfamiliar names. She felt lost, terribly, terribly lost. Still, she remained silent, and watched, and listened.

“You don’t really believe that the Admiralty is supporting pirates?” Shining gave a dismissive snort, his eyes searching the crowd for the tell-tale dark blue uniforms of naval officers. He spotted a few admirals and several post-captains. Tyr followed Shining’s eyes, making note of the odd hats a couple of them wore, like a large, gold trimmed wave perched just behind the horn—all of them invariably also being unicorns.

A shrug and a little dismissive chuckle from Polished brought Tyr’s attention back to the conversation.

“I’m saying too much, but we’re family, if distant. Truth is, it really doesn’t concern me. I’ve been re-assigned to the Bellerophon, for the time being. She’s just finished refitting, and Captain Swell doesn’t have long left on her commission. So it should just be a short, temporary posting. Afterwards, I’m hoping to make promotion to Colonel, and be given a garrison somewhere. I’ll miss the creaking of timber and roll of the ship, not to mention the comparative lack of work. Wont miss being crammed in with several young gentle fillies and colts for months at a time, though.” Polished downed his remaining brandy, asked Shining to give his regards to Twilight, and then excused himself.

“Is the navy an important part of Equestria’s military?” Tyr asked sweet as she could after Polished had left.

Shining hesitated, then shrugged. “I never had much to do with the Naval Department when I was in the guard. The two departments very rarely interact. Now I have even less to do with them. I was always in the Royal Guard, going through the motions of protecting a family of immortal goddesses. My one claim to fame is marrying your mother and a mention assisting her repelling the changelings a couple years ago.”

He gave a short chuckle, looking down on Tyr with a twinkle in his eyes. Tyr’s heart leapt into her throat, the look Shining gave her so similar to the one her real father used to give her.

“I can’t say anything we do is really important. Nopony is fool enough to directly challenge Equestria, more so after the changelings were… defeated.”

“Did you fight them?”

“Yes, I faced their Queen.”

“Did you cut off her head and show the severed thing, tongue hanging from her mouth, to your troops from your balcony?” Tyr bounced with giddy delight beside him, taking a few moments to pantomime the act.

He was silent for several seconds before saying, in a toneless voice, “No, I did not.”

“Why not?” Tyr tilted her head, genuinely curious. “That is what all the heroes do, isn’t it?”

A worried sigh on his breath, Shining knelt down so he was eye to eye with Tyr.

“Because that is not how things are done. You need to avoid saying such things, especially when school starts up. The last thing you want is the other fillies and colts thinking you are odd or weird.”

“I don’t understand. What use do I have for the opinions of mortal foals?”

Shining craned his head to look around the Gala. Spotting what he was looking for, he turned Tyr and pointed to Twilight and Rarity. The pair were laughing at something some minor lord had said, putting on the appropriate airs for their stations. When the lord trotted away, pleased with whatever he’d said, Rarity whispered something into Twilight’s ear that sent both mares into a fit of polite giggles.

“Because, friends can make even the boring and troublesome times fun,” he said as way of explanation.

Tyr considered the princess for a long time. Seeing Twilight gave her a very small measure of hope that she too would regain herself. Twilight was over a hundred years her junior, and yet there she stood, resplendent in her full power.

“I’ll try to be nice, I guess.” Tyr conceded, her ears drooping.

“Nice is only half the equation, Tyr,” Shining continued to explain as they returned to wandering around the gala. “The nicest pony will be shunned if they are considered ‘odd’ or ‘weird’. But that isn’t anything that etiquette lessons can’t fix. We’ll see about that when we return from the manor.”

“Manor?” Tyr’s ears perked back up, waiting for an explanation.

Nodding excitedly, Shining said, “Yes, Sparkle Manor. It’s where Twily and I grew up. We’ll be there for this years Season, along with grandmother’s herd. It will give you some time to acclimatize to Equestria, and get to know your new family. How does that sound?”

“It sounds… good,” Tyr said, adding under her breath, “not like I have a choice.”

“Yes, that,” Shining growled, his eyes narrowing as the crowd cleared enough to reveal Princess Celestia. “Princess Celestia, she…” Shining’s voice trailed off as he gave his head a sharp shake. “You have every right to be angry with us. I’d be surprised if you weren’t, actually.”

Tyr didn’t try to deny that she was angry. She was a whole conflagration of emotions, ranging from terrified to depressed, with rage sitting somewhere near the top of the pile. Yet, and yet, she understood that the binding of her nature was a necessity. If she’d been born on Ioka, she’d have been an ascended goddess for the last century. She just wished that she’d been given the choice, with all the reasons laid out in front of her.

But knowing the necessity and forgiving the pony who’d maimed her were two vastly different things.

“I hate her,” Tyr growled, looking away from Celestia.

Taking a deep breath, Shining pulled Tyr against his side.

“Hate is understandable. But is it productive?”

“Huh?”

Looking up at the stars, Shining explained. “I was used, manipulated, and… other things, by the Changeling Queen. After she was defeated, hate and anger continued to boil inside of me. I lashed out at the ponies that cared for me. For a while I wasn’t a very pleasant pony to be around. I was suspicious, snide, and at times cruel.”

“Something changed though, right?” Tyr watched Shining’s face for any reaction, but his expression was lost and distant.

“Yes. After one heated argument with Cadence I was forced to realise that it wasn’t Chrysalis, or the Changelings, that I was angry with; it was myself. If I had been smarter, or stronger, or one of a thousand other things, I wouldn’t have fallen into her trap. I was angry with something I couldn’t have stopped or prevented. I think it is the same with you.”

Shining looked down as he finished speaking. Tyr felt a spear of guilt and anger dig into her heart as she looked up into that face that so resembled her father’s. But it was showing her something that her father’s had never; compassion. Apollo had been many things, but never compassionate.

Among her kind, compassion was a liability, a weakness. Her father was the God of Protection, patron of heroes and guardians. He was the stern, unmoving wall that held back the darkness. Compassion, forgiveness, leniency; these were anathema of his existence.

Besides, why was she so upset about having another aspect of her life dictated by adults, Tyr asked herself. It wasn’t like she’d ever been given a choice before. In this regard, Celestia was more alike Hermera than in just appearance. The anger was something new, and as she examined it, Tyr understood where it was really directed.

“Why can’t I be an adult. With my domain, my full powers, and in control of my destiny?” Tyr asked, the question directed more at the sky than anypony in specific. “I’m the oldest. Shouldn’t I have found my place in the cosmos by now?”

Shining remained silent for several minutes, for which Tyr was thankful. Her thoughts were too cluttered and confused to properly sort through.

Frustrated tears stung her eye. She brushed them away, as she had done the thousand others that had been shed in the last week. Tyr wanted to stamp on the small droplets, scream at them, rage at her body’s betrayal. They weren’t her. She wasn’t even really Tyr anymore. Just a hollow, frail, frightened shell of herself.

“I want to go home,” she cried, looking around with watery eyes. “I want this all to be a bad dream. I keep hoping I’ll wake up and everything will be the way it was. With mom and dad coming to take me to their temples and show me off to the faithful. But I know that this is all too real. My back itches where my wings should be. My coat prickles at my missing lustre.”

Tyr shivered, rubbing her hooves along her upper-legs. The shiver turned into a sneeze, one that rocked her entire frame and made her muzzle ache. Much like the tears, the sneezes were new. Just another sign of how far she’d fallen.

“The filly that looks like Aoide said you don’t miss what you never knew,” Tyr’s eyes fell on Twilight as she spoke, her voice edging on a sob. “For Twilight that was true. She never had wings or lustre to know what their loss feels like. I’m broken, papa.”

A hoof touched her on her shoulder, making Tyr jump.

“Hey, you’re not broken, you’re just…” Shining paused as he struggled to find comforting words. “You’re just… sleeping. That part of you is sleeping, and before you know it, it’ll awaken and you’ll be even stronger.”

Sniffling, Tyr scrubbed away the last of her tears.

“I hope so.”

Putting on a brave smile, Shining gave Tyr’s withers a squeeze, saying, “And think of it this way, it’s only a few years, right? A decade at the most. And then it’ll be over. What’s a decade to you? You’re Tyr! A hundred years is small change to you. You’ll claim your birthright before you know it, and all this will become a distant memory. I hope that, in time, it’ll be good memories, not sad ones.”

Shining swung his hoof out to encompass the palace, city, and entire disc.

“You’re such odd ponies,” Tyr giggled, her spirits buoyed, if for only a little while. “Such happy, friendly, sheltered ponies.”

“Yes, we are!” Shining agreed with a chuckle. “Now, let’s find your mother,” he added, getting off the bench. Another sneeze from Tyr made him frown, pulling a kerchief out of his suit to dab at her nose. “And maybe get you to bed.”

Tyr followed reluctantly. Her papa was a good, honest pony, but she was still unsure about the others. As she trotted along at his side, Tyr swore silently to locate a way to hasten finding her mark, and with it, her domain. There had to be some method, somewhere. Resolved, the bitterness clinging to her heart dissolved just a little.

Galas, of any size or variety, were Fleur and Fancy’s natural habitat. The pair moved with effortless choreography, chit-chatting and providing small-talk, while nudging their chosen causes towards the hooves that could prove most beneficial. For Fancy, this was a farrier he’d met a few weeks previous in Amblingfalls.

“She was a most accomplished member of her trade. I’ve rarely ever been treated so well,” Fancy was saying to Iron Shod, proprietor of Canterlot’ premier farrier service. “Her touch was light enough I barely felt it at all, and she caught a developing split that my regular provider had somehow managed to miss.”

“Indeed? I shall have to look into snapping her up before somepony from Manehatten gets wind of her. Thank you Fancy, I’m most grateful.” Iron Shod gave a little bow before the powerful couple moved off.

Fleur, a warm smile dancing in her heart and on her lips, pressed her head against Fancy’s neck.

“That is what, three charitable causes you’ve championed tonight?” She lightly teased.

“Indeed,” Fancy gave a smirk, pride radiating from the stallion.

“It’s a wonder the Namegiver didn’t name you ‘Charity’,” Fleur chided, the pair rounding a corner to find Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy entangled in a debate.

“That would have made my time in the guard more interesting, too,” Fancy chuckled, stopping his next words as the pair caught wind of the heated conversation.

“She’s a big ol’ meanie, that’s what she is,” Fluttershy was saying, her bright tourmaline eyes sharp as arrows and aimed at some point beyond the rhododendrons. “I just… I want to… She just makes me want to scream at her, that’s all.”

Patting her friend on the shoulder, her normal smile present though a bit terse, Pinkie said, “It’s okay, ‘Shy. Sure, she’s a bit stuffy and bossy and cold and… um… what’s that word Rarity called that pony that made you a model?”

Stepping up beside Pinkie, Fleur said around a laugh, “You should be careful. You don’t want to get ponies mad at other ponies by spreading gossip, do you?”

Her entire coat and mane standing on end like quills on a porcupine, Pinkie leapt into the air with a sharp gasp. Fleur stepped back as Pinkie, very slowly, fell back to the grass.

“Wowee, I’ve not been startled like that in forever,” Pinkie giggled. “You’re a very sneaky pony, Lissy.”

“‘Lissy’?”

“Your nickname! All my friends get nicknames,” Pinkie bobbed her head rapidly, her cheshire smile growing ever larger.

“Oh, thank you, I think. But, Fleur will do just fine.” Fleur never dropped her polite humour as she spoke, and turned to Fluttershy, who’d been trying to shrink down into Pinkie’s shadow. “Our apologies for listening in,” Fleur indicated Fancy with a nod of her head, “but were you discussing Queen Iridia of the Taiga?”

“Yeppers!” Pinkie’s head bobbed even faster.

“Would you, perhaps, mind telling me your impressions on the Queen?”

“Sure!”

Fleur soon discovered that trying to have a discussion with Lady Pinkamena Diane Pie was like drinking an entire bottle of chardonnay and then attempting compose a five movement symphony; it made perfect sense while inside the giddy haze, but soon after you are left wondering just what you were thinking at the time, and before long all that remained was a pounding headache. Before Fleur and Fancy were even aware of it, a half-hour had gone skipping past, found a friend, and then gone by again.

Somehow, somewhere, they got onto the subject of what made an eclair so delicious. After debating the merits of the cream filling versus the chocolate coating, the conversation deviated towards whether or not fortunetelling gypsies could tell the right time to take a souffle out of an oven. This was followed by a discussion on what was a better oven; wood or magic. Pinkie was of the firm opinion that wood was the only proper stove, but magic ovens were so much better for baking. Fleur confessed at this point that she’d never, actually, cooked anything. Ever.

After Pinkie had recovered from the fainting spell this revelation induced, she made a promise to someday teach Fleur how to bake a cupcake, at the very least. Some ponies held that muffins were the superior baked good, but in Pinkie’s eye, it was the cupcake that was supreme.

By the time Fleur and Fancy managed to untangle themselves from the babbling pink menace, the Gala was half over.

A light smattering of giggles reached the couple as they staggered across the grass.

“You need to be careful with Pinkie Pie,” said Princess Cadence, good-natured amusement shining in her clear eyes. “She’s a sweetheart, and I love her dearly, but she needs to be taken in small doses.”

“Oui,” Fleur managed to gasp, her throat curiously sore from talking, though she couldn’t fully recall what she’d said over the last hour. “I never fully appreciated her energy before, your Serene Highness.”

“Cadence, you can call me Cadence. I think you’ve earned that right, Fleur.”

“I… Thank you,” Fleur gave a weary laugh. “I meant to talk to you, and Princesses Celestia and Luna, actually.”

“Oh? If this is about foal-sitting for Tyr, it’s just not really been practical yet, and we’re going to be out of Canterlot for the next month and a bit spending time with Shining’s parents. Auntie is also a bit concerned letting her out of the palace, at least until Tyr settles a bit.”

Cadence sighed, taking a moment to ruffle her wings in displeasure. An unmistakable bite of resentment and anger in the princess’ tone.

A little beat of joy coursed through Fleur, settling in her hooves and breast. “Non, not about that, but thank you for keeping my offer in mind. What I need to discuss is of a State nature.”

“Really?” Cadence tilted her head, her wings snapping back to her side as she mastered her outward emotions.

Preparing herself for negotiations, Fleur lead Cadence a little to the side, where prying ears would find it more difficult to listen in on their conversation.

“Prance has been suffering a blight from a voracious pest; Parasprites. They’ve eaten all the seeds stored for planting season, as well as what remained of last fall’s harvest. With most of the crop earmarked for the army and navy, there won’t be enough for the common ponies this winter. Unless we can find another source of food, rationing is inevitable.” Fleur’s voice trembled a little at the thought of her countryponies starving. “I understand this is neither the time nor place for discussions of this nature, but, my countryponies take precedence.”

“Yes, of course.” Cadence tilted her head forward a little as she thought. “The Crystal City only grows as much as it needs. We have little surplus for trade, certainly not on the magnitude Prance will require. I can’t speak for Equestria, naturally, but I know Celestia and Luna will be willing to send food, but I’m not sure if the Prench Parliament will accept the price.”

“The letters I’ve received indicate that no price is too steep.” Fleur gave her head a shake, adding, “Not even renewing peace negotiations with Hackney.”

Smiling, and using a wing to guide Fleur through the Gala, Cadence said, “I think that would please Celestia.”

“That could have gone much worse,” Luna commented as they moved through the crowd.

Rarity comforted Twilight following Iridia’s departure, providing the friendly ear the young alicorn needed. From the corner of her eye, Luna watched the pair return to the gala at large, their laughter carrying over the general murmur of noise before being subsumed by the orchestra.

“The night is young. Plenty of time for an eldritch evil to appear.” Celestia smiled with more humour than she felt. “Or for Tartarus’ gate to open.”

“Sister, don’t jest about such things.” Luna gave Celestia a sharp look. “Lest you tempt fate. Last thing we need is one of… them crashing the party.”

Ruffling her wings, Celestia asked, “Why did it have to be her?”

“What’s done is done. We choose not our parents, nor our foals,” Luna snorted as she turned and began to circle the gardens, heading towards the palace doors. “Well, almost all of us, that is,” Luna corrected, turning her gaze to the tower where Iridia had fled.

“Tia, why did you forgive me so fast, and yet harbour such resentment for her?”

Celestia drew her mouth into a pensive line, unable to meet her sisters eyes and instead inspecting the glittering night sky.

“I honestly do not know, Luna. Maybe because I blame her as much as myself for what happened to you and Namyra. Or that she came back, and mother did not. Or a thousand reasons, each adding to the one before it until I can’t think straight when it comes to her.” Celestia sighed, a deep, weary breath that held the regret of ages past. “I used to lay awake at night, wondering, would I have been so different in her place?”

“Yes,” Luna said without the least hesitation. “Mother knows you are not without your faults, Tia, but you would not blame an entire race for the actions of a few.”

An appreciative smile on her lips, Celestia gave Luna a brief nuzzle.

“How about a turn about the private gardens, away from the guests. They contain a certain beauty that is only in moonlight revealed,” Luna returned Celestia’s smile with a mischievous smirk, taking the lead towards the secluded section.

She stopped after only a few yards, her ears perking forward as the wind caught her attention, a peculiar scent in the air. Lifting her muzzle, Luna pulled the breeze over her tongue and through her nose, extending her senses outwards as she did every evening and morn. She was struck by two similar but distinct scents; baked fruit dumplings and cinnamon cookies.

Glancing back to Celestia, Luna saw her sister also testing the air, Celestia’s majestic wings partly spread as her eyes half-lidded.

“Two of them, without a doubt,” Celestia confirmed, wings fully extending as she prepared for flight. Her eyes darted across the star studded night looking for the intruders, but saw nothing out of the norm.

“They are close…” Touching Selene, Luna cast a wide net with her awareness. Lifting a hoof, she pointed to a spot between the Canterhorn’s peak and the palace, saying, “There!”

Once identified, discerning the pair of descending shades from the hanging remnants of cloud was easy. Burnished orange and azure blue, the shades touched down upon the tip of a tower before slithering to a window and slipping inside the palace. Celestia and Luna set off at once, both moving with a graceful, determined stride.

A few ponies attempted to steal the princesses attention, only to be brushed aside by one or the other. Blinking and confused, they stared after them until Celestia and Luna vanished through the palace doors. Inside the palace they separated, each following the scent emanating from one of the shades. Luna quickened her step as she felt a jolt of excitement echo from the one she was tracking.

She found herself led to a door, one identical to a hundred others within the palace. From the other side, Luna could hear laughter and other sounds. Ones that almost made her blush as she realised their cause. As she lifted her hoof all trace of the scent she’d been following vanished.

Rapping her hoof urgently on the door, it never occurred to her to turn away. “Hello, is everything alright in there?”

There was the predictable scuffling, hushed voices speaking to each other, and then the door opened a crack. Luna was struck by a powerful smell, but not the one she’d been following. This was far more mundane and personal, with none of the dancing hints of magic the others had carried.

“Hey princess, what’s up?” Dash asked. Her mane was ruffled, the intricate braid she’d been wearing for the presentation and gala abandoned, and her dress was missing. As if Luna didn’t have enough information to know what she’d interrupted, Dash’s wings were extended at an embarrassing angle and her breathing was heavy, as if she’d been flying.

“Nothing, Lady Dash,” Luna said, putting on her most imperious expression. “I simply...” Luna shook her head as every explanation that jumped forward in her mind were as implausible or terrible as the other. “My apologies, Lady Dash, I was tracking what I believed was an intruder and thought I saw it enter this chamber. I appear to have been mistaken.”

Luna was thankful that her dark coat hid the blush creeping across her cheeks.

“A spy!?” Dash attempted to jump into a hover, only to have her stiff wings fail to beat. “The only other pony here is…” Dash snapped her mouth shut as she realised what she was saying, her lighter coat not proving as effective at hiding a blush as Luna’s. “Um, what I mean is—”

Luna held up a hoof to forestall any excuses, half-baked as they’d have been.

“I understand. I was once a young pony too. You and your friend enjoy the evening.”

“Uh, sure, we will,” Dash looked skeptical, but closed the door nevertheless. Once it snapped shut there were a few moments before a flurry of guffaws and laughter exploded from within the room.

Luna was aware of the humour, but was too preoccupied trying to figure out where the shade she’d been tracking had gone. Using a scrying spell, one attuned to the palace, she hunted for the intruder but turned up nothing.

“I hope you had more luck than me, Luna,” Celestia’s voice cut down the hallway, making Luna turn to observe Celestia approaching from the guest quarters.

“Presumably we’ve both met the same failure,” Luna sighed, moving to join her sister. “They are slippery entities, when they choose. I must have given myself away and it led me into a trap of embarrassment.”

“Oh?” Celestia lifted her brow as they returned to the gardens.

“I was led to a encounter of a romantic nature between a friend and her paramour,” Luna explained around a gentle cough.

“Hmm, interesting. I very nearly stepped into a similar situation.” Celestia replied, then added when Luna gave her a questioning look. “These shades have a sense of humour, I’ll grant them that much.”

Luna gave a low snort. “The one Twilight and I encountered didn’t seem capable of much more than blind need and aggression. I wouldn’t ascribe thought behind its actions, only base instinct.”

“We can’t underestimate them, Luna.” Celestia quickly admonished. “I’m thankful Peewee managed to intercede when he did.”

“Indeed,” Luna managed to say before both princesses put on their ingenuine smiles, returning to the task of being the cordial hostess.

Book One: Chapter Nine: Thornhaven

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book One: Awakening and Arrivals
Chapter Nine: Thornhaven

The South-West Tower, more commonly referred to as the Sunset Tower, was a lonely and isolated section of the palace. One of the oldest portions of Canterlot Castle, it had seen many changes over the centuries. Originally, it had been a guard room and armoury for the small fort that would one day become the center of Equestria, a distant outpost for the burgeoning nation as it recovered and grew following the end of the Long Winter and Iridia’s defeat.

By the time of the War of the Sun and Moon, Canterlot Castle had fallen into disrepair and disuse. While the town survived on the pilgrims journeying to Notra-Dame de la Chanson, the castle herself had entered hard times. The west facing wall had been broken, a large hole torn in its roof, and the entire structure leaned precariously. When Celestia began to reconstruct the rest of the castle to form it into her palace, the Sunset Tower had been given to Cadence, the young princess taking comfort and solitude in transforming the cracked stonework into a simple, albeit tall, edifice.

A set of external stairs lead to the third floor, where ponies were greeted by a parlour filled with what books Cadence had managed to save from her old room in the Nightmare’s fortress. The parlour was a comfortable place where she could relax and entertain her aunt, when Celestia could find the time to visit. Cadence spent the majority of her first years curled up before the room’s wide hearth, transposed like her books from her mother’s fortess, and dreaming of how her life should have been.

On the second floor, just below the parlour, Cadence put a combination alchemical workshop and storage area. It had been her intent at the time to delve deeper into magic, but it had sat, untended, for most of the intervening years. Only the maids truly set hoof on the second floor. Even when Cadence had left Canterlot to form the Crystal City, the room remained untouched, odd items and magical objects that should have been placed in the vaults sitting out in the open where they collected a thick layer of dust.

Cadence chose to turn the ground floor into a well appointed set of quarters for her hoofmaidens. During the periods where she had no pony attending to her needs, it sat either empty, or converted to more storage space.

At the top of the tower sat her bedchamber, with its adjacent closet and bathroom. It was comfortably furnished, most of the time, with a period in the thirteenth century where it had been lavishly decorated in golds and silvers, with shawls, curtains, and heavy oak furniture filling every available inch of space.

Unlike the other towers in Canterlot Castle, Sunset Tower had a flat roof surrounded by crenelated walls. A perfect spot for a young alicorn to sit beneath the stars, gazing up at the image of her mother darkening the face of Selene, and wonder what things would have been like if Luna had not fallen. Or to curl up with her husbands, coltfriends, and various lovers.

Despite having founded the Crystal City, with its own lavish palace, Cadence had always thought of the Sunset Tower as her home. But the tower was no place to raise a filly, even if the second floor was cleared out to make space for another bedroom. So, she and Shining had been moved to their new quarters in the palace's Royal Wing. It didn’t escape Cadence’s notice that they were right between Celestia’a chambers and Twilight’s tower, with Luna’s chambers just beyond.

While not suited for raising Tyr, it was, however, an excellent guest tower.

Cadence stared up at the familiar stone walls, a simple door just before her. It had only been a week since her mark had been removed, and its absence was jarring. Finding the door blank gave her pause, and an odd sense of melancholy.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting in front of the tower, working up her courage to speak to the pony within. It wasn’t like she had any baggage or past slights with Iridia. Cadence had heard very little of her great aunt, in truth, and she’d learned at a very young age to be highly suspicious of history books. While they didn’t exactly lie, there were a lot of facts and truths that Celestia kept removed and hidden from what was taught to her little ponies.

Rapping on the door twice, Cadence settled her wings and nerves.

It was only Iridia, and she was family.

And family was important.

The door swung open, Iridia’s playful voice calling through the gap. “Come in, my dear, come in!”

Taking a deep breath, Cadence plunged into the tower like she were about to face a dragon or demon lord, wings slightly spread, jaw set, and stride containing purpose. Iridia sat on a soft blue cushion that matched her eyes, a book hovering before her and a glass of red wine sitting on a table at her side. Behind her a fire crackled happily in the hearth, holding back the lingering morning chill.

Glancing up, Iridia laid the book aside, marking her place with a dark blue feather, and put on a slight smile.

“Cadence, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Iridia stood to greet Cadence, her smile growing wider as she crossed the room. “No need to be so tense. I won't bite. Let me have a look at you.”

“I wanted—”

Iridia silenced her with a wingtip to Cadence’s lips. Cadence felt like she were being circled by a wolf, Iridia’s eyes slowly drifting as they appraised her. A slight blush crept onto Cadence’s cheeks, unused to such an unabashed look from anypony other than Shining.

“You have your mother’s nose and build,” Iridia said with unrestrained approval as she completed her circuit. “But your grandmother’s wings.”

Unsure on how to respond—no pony had ever told her she had the Namegiver’s wings, after-all—Cadence gave a hesitant, “Thank you.”

Turning back to her cushion, Iridia asked, “So, what can I do for you, Cadence?”

Ruffling her feathers, Cadence followed Iridia, choosing a fluffy white cushion. “I wanted to meet you, obviously,” she replied around a weak laugh. “And ask about Velvet, and her curse.”

“Curse? A Geaes isn’t a curse. At worst a compulsion. Besides, that will be gone,” Iridia flicked a dismissive hoof. “How was it worded? ‘You must guard her secret, and all her secrets, until there are none left to keep.’ Or something like that. It should have ended, anyways. If it hasn’t, I think I know how to break it.”

Cadence nodded a few times. “I also wanted to ask if you knew anything that might help me with raising Tyr. Such as her parents, or where she is from. That sort of thing.”

“Why would I know anything of her parents?” Iridia tilted her head. “I have only the vaguest of memories of the others, and, to be honest, I had assumed they were all lost and that my sister and I alone escaped the… Well, it’s not important. Tyr is the one to speak with on her previous family, not I.”

“Oh,” was all Cadence could muster, drooping on her cushion. “So, you don’t know or remember anything?”

Iridia, her hooves fidgeting, shook her head.

“The earliest my memories are clear… let’s see… Marelantis. Sitting atop one of the crystal towers of Marelantis eating a blueberry pie with your grandmother. Her muzzle and hooves were covered with filling. Ha-ha! Those had been happy days.” Iridia’s voice trailed off as she lapsed into thought. Breaking out of her memories, she added, “I wish I could be of more help.”

Shrugging, Cadence said, “It was just a small hope, anyways.”

“Well, I’m glad you sought me out,” Iridia said, conjuring a plate of biscuits and cheeses. “I thought everypony was mad at me.”

Cadence arched a brow. “I am a little mad at you, I suppose.” Iridia’s tentative smile faded a little. “How could I not be? Celestia has her flaws, yes, but one of them is not holding a grudge. In many regards, her willingness to forgive is her weakness. So, what did you do to her?”

“I… It is something that Celestia should tell you. If she wishes to keep it a secret, that is her decision and I will respect it.” Iridia fidgeted some more, unable to look Cadence in the eye.

“Oh.” Cadence knew how well asking Celestia to disclose information, especially personal information, would go. Best case she’d get a pleasant smile and some teasing. Worst case… about the same, actually. It wasn’t like Celestia would try to leave her in charge of Equestria while an ancient evil attempted to bring eternal night. Not again. Or for a few decades, at least.

Hopefully.

Clearing her throat, Cadence picked up some of the cheese. A very pungent cheese, she added as she took a sniff.

“That’s gamalost.” Iridia gave a knowing nod, taking some for herself and placing it on what appeared to be a stone cracker.

Cautiously, Cadence bite into the cheese and found it to be firm with a moist granular quality that was rather pleasant.

“Do you like it?” Iridia leaned forward, gripping the edge of her cushion and sighing when Cadence confirmed that she enjoyed it. “I brought it and some other traditional Taigan foods for Twilight. But… I guess that was a silly idea.”

“She’ll come around,” Cadence reached over to pat Iridia’s hoof. “Twilight needs to process things in her own way. Give her time. We’ve all given her a lot to think about.”

“I hope that is true.”

Several minutes passed in silence, Iridia and Cadence savouring the cheese until only a few crumbs remained.

“So…” Cadence began, but not knowing what to say or ask, she gave a cough and peered out the window.

“I lied to her,” Iridia mumbled, the softness of the statement almost passing Cadence.

“Huh?”

“Celestia. I told her a lie,” Iridia continued, reaching out with a shaking aura to summon a cup of some dark, bitter smelling drink. “It was shortly after I lost my little dream, before… before I… Well, it doesn’t really matter. She came to talk sense into me and try to bring me out of mourning. We exchanged… words... and I ‘blessed’ her.”

Tilting her head, Cadence crinkled her nose at the smell given by the liquid in Iridia’s cup.

“I don’t see what’s wrong with that?”

Iridia brought the cup to her lips, taking extra time in sipping its contents. Narrowing her eyes, Cadence tapped an impatient hoof, waiting for an explanation. Unable to hold off any longer, Iridia couldn’t meet Cadence’s gaze as she said, “The blessing was that I’d spare her from having to suffer as I had. That I would save her from ever bearing the burden of losing a foal in the only way I could…”

“Oh.” Cadence said, and then with greater force, “Oh!”

Setting her cup down, Iridia added in a rush of words, “It was all a lie, please understand that. I didn’t… I was in a very bad place. I’d just lost my precious dream, Twilight’s sister, and I… I took it out on everypony else. Celestia just…”

“But, surely she had to know that it was a lie? Right?” Cadence gulped. “You didn’t cast a spell or anything?”

“Oh, no! I never did that,” Iridia gave her head a violent shake. “But, I don’t have to cast any spells to cut a mother off from the Font. It was a foalish, mean spirited, stupid thing to say, but Celestia had no reason to doubt me at the time.” Iridia twisted her hooves together. “And then I made one of the worst mistakes of my existence when I gave you to Luna.” Cadence sat up as if she’d been kicked. “No, wait! I didn’t mean it like that! Fie, I am making such a mess of things. What I meant is that I made a mistake believing that a foal could mend Luna’s heart.”

Cadence tried to settle, but the words had stung far fiercer than she’d have thought to give them credit. Trying to push past the hitch in her stomach and the ruffling of her wings, she focused on the more peculiar portion of Iridia’s statement.

“What do you mean, ‘gave you to Luna’?”

“Ah… Oh… I didn’t mean it that way. Like I made a conscious decision…” Iridia’s fake smile returned in wonderful force, her tail snapping against the floor. “Fie, why am I bothering to hide it? Yes, I ‘gave’ you to Luna.” Iridia used hoof quotes followed by a self depreciating snort. “Have you ever tried to have a foal?”

Blushing, Cadence looked away as she said, “I may have… a long time ago…”

“Well, I tried, and tried, and tried. For thousands of years, every season, without fail.”

“And?”

“And what? Do you see hundreds or thousands of other alicorns running about the disc? There would be if things worked in the same manner for us as it does the mortals.” Iridia snorted, tail flicking again. “It wasn’t until some seventeen odd centuries ago that I figured out why. Laying with a stallion wasn’t enough. It was required, of course, but it was only half of the process. I had just about given up hope, but my sister was always so certain that we’d have foals. It wasn’t even the Season when it happened.”

“I think I can imagine what happened.”

“Well, yes, naturally. But as we laid there following the fun parts I decided to tend to some prayers. As I touched the Font I saw them. A pair of souls of our kind. They were moving so fast, much faster than those of the mortal souls that travel through the Font. I had to act, so I reached out and diverted them, bringing them to your grandmother and I. That was how Celestia and my little dream were conceived. Luna followed a little over a year later.”

Blinking, Cadence sat up straighter, mulling over what she’d been told. “Wait a moment… Did you just give me ‘The Talk’?”

“I suppose so, yes.” Iridia and Cadence shared a laugh, the tension that had filled the room only minutes earlier dissipating. “But I never gave it to Celestia or Luna. And when you came along, what else was she to think other than I’d cursed her?”

“Oh…” Cadence blinked a few times working through what she’d been told, adding a much louder, “Wow… Wait… Why didn’t you give her Twilight?”

“I tried!” Iridia snapped, old frustration clear in her voice. “I’d been looking for an opportunity to give her a foal for a long time. I almost gave you to her, but with Luna… How much surer her fall would have been had Celestia had just one more thing that she did not. I had hoped… But we both know how that turned out.” Sighing in defeat, she waved a hoof as though to move the conversation along. “It’s not like I can wave my hoof and, poof, foals for everypony. Even then, I was subsumed within the Font. For the first… Three? Four centuries? A long time, anyways, I was too busy undoing the damage I’d done. Those ten years where I closed the Font almost damaged it irreparably.”

“But, you did try?” Cadence pressed, leaning forward and searching Iridia for any sign of a lie, both in her great aunt’s face, and in the flickering strands of love.

Love; it grew from all ponies, binding them together and weighing them down. Some love was brilliant and pure, True Love, shining with a light that could not be stopped, and oh so rare. Cadence had only encountered True Love a mere hoofful of times, and each time it acted like a beacon for trouble.

There were many kinds of love, as many as there were kinds of ponies, but they all shared certain, unalterable properties. Such as being affected by the emotional tides of individuals.

Iridia’s love was a hesitant and fractured thing, many old scars and wounds evident in the strands emanating from the queen. The core was strong, but the surface very fluid, except for one strand; a strand of True Love. An unconnected strand, whomever Iridia had loved was gone. Cadence ignored it for the moment and focused on those connected to Twilight and Celestia.

“I just said I did.”

It was the truth. The strands of love grew brighter for an instant, strength flowing through them. If Iridia had lied, guilt would have twisted the love. Unless Iridia felt no guilt. Cadence didn’t believe that for a moment. While far from perfect—it only worked with those that were lying or telling the truth when about loved ones—Cadence had never told any pony other than Celestia just how she could detect a lie. Telling Celestia had turned out to be a bad idea as her aunt quickly mastered the ability to lie without guilt.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed her foolish notion of being ‘Mother to the Nation’ since banishing Luna.” Again with the hoof-quotes, Iridia’s voice as bitter as her drink. “Several opportunities slipped through my hooves because she refused to compromise that image. I grew desperate, so I did the next best thing and had Twilight myself and placed her close to Celestia, with one of the very few ponies I trusted.”

“You need to tell her the truth!” Cadence verged on shouting, jumping to her hooves.

“What good could that possibly do?” Iridia retorted, slamming her cup down and spilling the dark liquid all over the table and floor. Ignoring the mess, Iridia rose to her own hooves and began to pace. “There won't be a bunch of tears followed by hugging after such a revelation. All it can do is wound her further.”

“Ponyfeathers!” Cadence flared her wings, her next words coming with a blunt force. “It can bring her peace. If you won’t tell her, I will.”

Iridia stopped her pacing.

“No! This has to come from me. I know that… Just… Just… Give me time.” Iridia pleaded with her eyes.

“Fine.” Cadence marched to the door, stopping after yanking it open. “But, she has to learn the truth, and soon. Find a moment and tell her, because I don’t know how long I can hold a secret like this from her.”

Slamming the door shut behind her, the frame cracking from the force, Cadence marched back towards her new quarters.

Alone, Iridia stared blankly at the spilled dregs of her drink. Tension poured from her muzzle until it sagged, heavy with regret.

The ringing of distant bells dragged River out of her rest. She’d been having a wonderful dream where she and… someone… had travelled to the south. Along the way they’d encountered a singing tree, a crying river, and had to tell stories to get past a mountain that spoke only in rhymes. A silly, pleasant dream that she was loath to abandon.

Growling, she tossed off her heavy woollen sheets, the early morning damp clinging to them where her breath had been misting. River shivered as she stepped off her bed, a chill working up her hooves and legs. She frowned as she glanced to her empty hearth, the fire that had been pleasantly crackling when she went to sleep had long since expired. Not even a hint of warmth remained.

Taking a pair of logs from the bin next to the heart, River set about calling on a simple cantrip. A spark shot from her small antlers, striking the wood and setting it alight. After poking the fire a few times to make sure it was well and truly lit, River made her way into the adjacent bathroom.

Like her bedchamber, the bathroom was permeated by the clammy morning, a chilly film clinging to the surface of every object. Another cantrip was required to heat her washing water.

River made a mental note to scold the initiates responsible for maintaining the castle. They’d become far too lax in their duties.

Thornhaven was an old castle, ancient beyond reason, in fact. She’d been built in an antiquity so long past that it was impossible to know the structure’s actual age. Two thousand years? Three? It didn’t truly matter.

What did matter was that Thornhaven’s walls were strong, made from molded and spell-shaped stone, grown into the required form rather than made of hewn blocks. For all intents and purposes, this made her walls unbreakable, the magic infusing the stone repelling almost any attack, and even the ravages of time. Using this to their advantage, the ancients had designed Thornhaven to be a spectacular show-piece looming above the forest from a hilltop. A half-dozen towers stood un-evenly spaced around the central keep and gatehouse, their pointed roofs covered in blue tile. Tall windows, balconies, and dozens of galleries and suits had been incorporated into the six-story high keep.

Thornhaven had an airy, otherworldly presence as a result. One befitting the throne of a goddess.

It also made Thornhaven drafty and somewhat inhospitable.

A shame it was the only home River could recall.

Even after the Betrayal, when the halla cut themselves off from the rest of the disc and abandoned many of their cities and towns, Thornhaven had remained unchanged. The seat of Halla governance—such as it was—with the Grandmistresses and Grandmasters of the lodges presiding from a council. While most of the grandmasters lived in their lodges in the town beneath Thornhaven’s gaze, they still met once a week to discuss matters ranging from intruders in the forest to how many candles remained in the storeroom.

A bunch of bickering old ninnys.

Of which River was one.

Dismissing the thoughts, River turned to her mirror and was greeted by a wholly unpleasant sight. She was a small hind, especially by halla standards, with a short muzzle, overly large eyes like a pair of pinecones—brown and just as prickly—and stubby antlers. Even her mane was unsightly, sticking out in midnight blue spikes with a streak of lavender that went from between her antlers. There was nothing about her that could be described as pretty. Except her coat, a white and pure as fresh snow.

Grumbling—as she did every morning—River combed her mane, tying it into a simple plait and repeating the procedure on her equally long and un-halla-like tail. She then brushed her coat clean, put on her ornate auburn robes, and placed her tags along the few prongs her antlers possessed. Each of the five tags were smallish gold plates, etched with glyphs for protection and true-sight, allowing her to perform some of her duties. Made of a soft, pliant cotton, River’s robes complemented her tags, with embroidered leaf and petal designs along the cuffs and collar. The gold thread had started to fade only the previous winter. She’d have them replaced before the next gathering. Slits along the flanks showed her mark, a feline paw formed of sweeping red, black, and white lines.

The last thing she took, though it wasn’t part of her official apparel, was her mother’s sword; Llallawynn.

As old as Thornhaven, Llallawynn was without equal in the north. Her blade was made of solid starlight, a glistening, soft silvery-blue, that warded off the frost and held back the summer heat. Pegasi froliked across the hilt and grip, their wings forming the guard, while a great blue gem sat in the pommel. Runes flowed down the fuller, proclaiming the sword’s name in a language long since lost to the grinding roll of years.

It was the only part of her mother River possessed. She didn’t even know her mother’s name, it having become taboo. All River knew of her was a title—The Sorceress—and that she’d been the one to free the queen. Because of her, River had grown up a prisoner of sorts within Thornhaven.

A knock on her door brought River out of her stupor. Quickly cinching her belt, River extinguished the lantern.

“You in there, River?” asked a deep voice, the door doing little to hold back the rumbling humour it contained. “We’re going to be late… You need to be like the four winds and fly.”

“I am coming!” River snapped, not trying to hide the irritation in her voice, nor the grimace on her muzzle. Not that it could be seen. But she knew he’d hear it just the same, and find her snappishness amusing.

Sure enough there came a booming laugh from the other side of the door.

“You need to learn the patience of stone,” she added as she yanked the door open, marching out of her chambers and passed a massive figure.

There was a saying, that each halla had a twin, and an opposite.

He was her opposite.

Thundering Mountain was an impressive halla in every regard. Even stooped he exuded strength and power, muscles bulging along his thick legs and barrel as he shifted from one armoured hoof to the other. His dark blue eyes—an unusual colour among the halla with their normal earth tones—flashed in the flickering torchlight, his ever present good humour dancing behind a false, stern exterior.

Unlike most of the warriors of Bear Lodge, Mountain wore little armour, just his greaves. River remembered watching from a window when Mountain had been trained, his masters attempting to force him to wear the traditional heavy platemail, only for him to cast it aside while proclaiming, “A true Bear goes into battle with only his courage and the strength of his own four hooves!”

Today, since it was the first day of the week, was the council meeting. As such, he wore the green and blue trimmed jacket that proclaimed him as a master, a stylised bear on the collar showing his lodge. Somehow, the jacket hung loose on his frame. Four fawns could curl up inside the jacket, and have space remaining. His sandy brown mane had been combed free of tangles and hung loose down his neck, while his mustache shone with fresh beeswax, ends curling inward.

“They are going to start without you, again.” Mountain chuckled, falling in beside River as she made her way towards the council chambers.

Trying, and failing, to suppress a huff, River said, “I’m only there because tradition demands all the grandmasters be present. The other’s, especially old Bramble, despise me.”

“That’s not true.” Mountain clicked his tongue. “Master White has a great fondness for you.”

Again, River couldn’t hold back her annoyance.

“Only because I remind her so much of her old friend.”

Sharply changing the subject, Mountain asked, “What did you make of the stars last eve?”

“Stars?” River pressed her mouth into a thin line as she took the long spiraling stairs down to the second floor. “I don’t have time to waste stargazing like some love-struck doe.”

“They were dancing,” Mountain said with a chuckle.

River shrugged as she left the stairwell. “So, they twinkle and dance every night. Sometimes they shoot across the sky too, you know.”

“A tongue of acid and a heart of snow only causes grief, River. No need to be so bitter.” Mountain shook his head as he gave a low, chuffing snort. “But, what I mean by dancing is that they were spinning and flying all across the heavens in wild displays of light. It was truly breathtaking.”

Stopping in the middle of the passage, River gave the huge halla a suspicious look.

Dancing stars. It couldn’t have been… Could it?

She’d seen the stars dance—or at least come close to dancing—once before. They’d gathered and spun, but it had been more like a vortex motion than dancing.

Her mouth fell into a frown as dates and numbers were added and calculated. Twenty-one years, she figured, since the night no-one talked about.

Had it truly been so long? River had been young when she’d been awoken by the screams and the hushed tones of the queen’s caretakers. She remembered hiding her head beneath her pillows as the entire castle and city beyond shook, and slipping from her chambers when the noise and tremors subsided.

Few knew the cause of the disturbance that night, rumours flying that the queen had been in one of her ‘moods’. Not uncommon on one hoof, especially over the previous year. They’d believed she’d been grumpy and chafing at her containment.

They’d never suspected she’d been with foal.

After-all, the queen never showed the most obvious sign.

River had been flabberghasted when she’d managed to sneak into the queen’s chambers, the guards conspicuously absent and the members of Wolf Lodge—they having the responsibility to tend to the queen in those days—rushing about and too busy to notice a small fawn creeping in the shadows. Peeking into the queen’s bedroom, River saw her curled on a bed, coat damp and mane hanging in tangled knots, but a smile of such wretched contentment on her muzzle. Wrapped in fresh swaddling, nuzzling her mother’s side, had been a newborn pony foal, horn nub peaking through a scraggly mane.

River said nothing, too shocked by what she saw. Mistress Walnut hurried around, directing her subordinates like a general on some ancient battlefield. When she saw River standing in the doorway, she’d tried to usher her away, only for the queen to call her to stop. The queen looked up and gave River a weary smile.

“Come, River, see your new princess,” Iridia whispered, as if she were afraid that the words would dispel some wonderful dream.

A filly herself, River had to be picked up and placed on her nanny’s back in order to get a better look at the tiny, purple foal.

Little more was said, the queen lapsing into a fatigued silence as she cleaned her daughter. And then Mountain arrived, having searched Thornhaven high and low, taking her back to her chambers. A short time later a burst of magic rolled through Thornhaven castle and out into the city.

River hadn’t learned what happened to the foal, only that the acolytes and masters that tended to the queen had acted as if nothing had happened.

In the years since, the events had never been mentioned again, and when River had inquired about the queen’s foal she’d only received blank stares. After a few months she’d given up asking.

As River turned back to head towards the upper levels a yell rang down the passage.

“Gone! Gone! The Queen is gone! Again!”

The shrill howl echoed through Thornhaven, reaching from the grand hall to the master’s chambers, and filtering out of the castle and down to the town below. It was almost as if the rest of the world grew silent for the moment so the words could carry farther.

River rubbed her temples, a frustrated groan leaving her throat, before increasing her pace.

Built into the upper level of Thornhaven, the Queen’s chambers were layered with hundreds of spells meant to prevent escape through means mundane and magical. They’d been inscribed by dozens of the wisest, craftiest, and most stubborn members of the halla’s magical practitioners. Every Solsday they were inspected to insure that there’d been no attempts to weaken or bypass the wards.

They were, without a doubt, one of the most complex and precise set of enchantments made since the days of lost Marelantis.

Since River’s mother had broken the spell that bound Iridia’s physical form in stone, the queen had made a game out of slipping through the wards underneath the muzzles of the dozen guards—six of the swiftest and six of the strongest—meant to watch her. Sometimes she escaped, stealing a few hours of freedom before returning, smug with victory and some trophy taken from distant lands. Other times she was less than successful.

Mountain’s eyes twinkled as they stepped onto the hallowed and forbidden sixth floor, the entire level given over to the Queen’s chambers, and those meant to safe-guard her. A long guardroom sat at the top of the old servants stairs used to access the floor. The old royal stairwell had been sealed, along with all other access routes. The warriors and priestesses stationed on the floor had quarters of their own accessible through the wide double doors on the far side of the room. To access the way to the Queen’s chambers required two keys that together opened a small sliding door hidden between a cabinet and painting.

At that moment the hidden door was already open, the initiates that were to tend to Iridia that morning standing a short way off and receiving a stern lecture from an even sterner master. River glared at the master—a member of Bear Lodge, the warrior caste—for daring to speak to her initiates. It was an tacit rule that the lodges did not interfere with each other. River was the one to speak with them.

“Master…” River struggled for his name, but couldn’t place it. “What are you doing?”

The master, a peevish creature with a pinched muzzle and small, black eyes beneath overly large antlers that didn’t suit his some-what lanky frame, glanced from the initiates to River and Mountain.

“I was simply trying to get the full story out of these fool fawns,” he snapped, shooting the cringing initiates a threatening glare.

“That,” River said in a cold hiss, her tone making the master back up a step, “is my responsibility.”

“I meant no harm! I was only—”

“What you meant is not my concern, only what you did.” River advanced, he retreated, an unusual circumstance for a member of Bear Lodge. “I am the Grandmistress of the Lionesses. They are my responsibility, not yours.”

“Perhaps if you were more diligent in teaching your initiates, Mistress River, than others wouldn’t have to do your duties for you,” the master huffed, thumping a hoof for added measure.

Glaring at him, River curled her upper lip. He returned the glare with almost casual ease, an irate, dwarfish hind causing him no concern. River’s face grew hot, jaw working from side to side.

Stepping between them, Mountain broke the tension. “You have made your point, brother. Now, go, before something truly regrettable occurs.”

The master seemed ready to argue with Mountain, but realised picking a fight with someone almost twice his size was a bad idea. Bowing deep and excusing himself, the master turned, head held high as he left the range of River’s withering glare.

“I could have handled him.” River frowned, her anger still high, though it was now embarrassment that made her face burn.

“Ha-ha! Perhaps!”

Taking a deep, calming breath that did little to settle her emotions, River turned to the initiates.

“Now, you two, what is this about the queen escaping?” River put on her most reassuring smile. It was only partially effective. She’d never mastered niceties, and the initiates, acolytes, and the very few masters of Lioness Lodge knew it. The pair—Whispering Brook and Little Hoof, both from the central herds, if River’s memory served her—looked particularly unreassured. They were a sweet and gentle pair of initiates, both nearly ready to take the rites of passage to become acolytes.

Trembling more than they had with the other master, the doe on the left—Whispering Brook—said, “W-We went in to bring Her Divine Majesty her breakfast, as normal and…”

“She was acting funny-like,” picked up Little Hoof, the other initiate. “Saying odd things, having trouble walking, couldn’t open her wings. That sort of thing. We were confused, naturally, but thought she was just playing one of her little games… You know how the queen can be at times when she’s bored.”

“Yes, I do.” River sighed, a flood of memories threatening to well up beneath the surface.

A few bubbled to the top of her thoughts. Deep winter, laughing and running around Mountain, the then initiate giving her a bemused look. She fell into a snowbank and looked up, a shadow watching from the upper windows. The figure moved away and, a moment later, snow slid from the steep roof, cascading over Mountain, leaving him sputtering and snorting to clear the snow from his face and coat. Laughter, like the sound of crystal chimes, flowed through the courtyard as a last clump of wet slush splattered from the roof with extra finality. The figure reappeared, and River was certain she saw her wave.

There were hundreds of such incidences over the years, enough that if the cause hadn’t been known to all within Thornhaven a ghost or poltergeist would have been suspected.

River shook off the memories before they could grow overwhelming.

She wasn’t usually so sentimental. River pinched her features together as her heart took a sudden hurry, twisting up into her chest.

“You are certain she’s gone?”

“A-Aye! You’ll s-see, Mistress River.”

Dismissing the pair, telling them to head down to the kitchens and get some warm breakfast before heading back to the initiates quarters, River turned to the Queen’s chambers, joined once more by Mountain.

A small part of her hoped this was all just another of Iridia’s little games. A way to spice up the dull life of Thornhaven.

Not that River doubted the queen was gone.

“You know something,” Mountain stated as they marched through the queen’s antechambers.

“That she was going to escape again? Fie, that’s inevitable.”

“True. But you know the reason this time.”

River didn’t deny the accusation. It was true, after-all. She paused after a few steps, looking up at Mountain with surprise. He knew the signs as well as her, and from the playful twinkle in his blue eyes, he was playing her, prodding her towards conclusions she’d already made.

“The night of dancing stars,” she replied, receiving a firm nod and hum of approval in return.

The actual chambers for the queen were much as anyone would expect, ostentatious to the point of being pretentious and gaudy. River had never understood or liked the gold leaf furniture, the bowls speckled in precious gems, or anything about why a halla or pony would want to be surrounded by such overt displays of wealth. Gold and jewels had little place in halla society, having no immediate or tangible value. A cup of gold held water no better than one of wood, a crown was no protection against a beast’s claws, and lace could not ward off the cold like a thick wool cloak.

Though River had never left Thornhaven, she still believed in the austere practicality of the nomadic herds. If things had been different she’d have lived among them, wandering the ancient forest, carrying all her worldly possessions on her back.

Only the lodges, and those in the lodges, created permanent structures to serve as places of teaching where they passed on the ancestral knowledge of the halla. Once, long ago, the halla had built cities. Their ruins dotted the forest like ticks on an ailing dog. Only four towns remained of the hundreds that once existed.

Unless one counted the Vales, the places of magic where the queen had been able to shelter her supporters from a terrible curse. One that had split the halla in half.

River chose not to dwell on that horrible spring, and the repercussions. Halla had died, the queen had been awoken, and River had been left an orphan raised in the protective custody of those whom supported the old ways, while those loyal to the queen gathered and settled on sacred land, forming the first new villages in fifteen hundred years.

Entering the deepest part of the queen’s chambers, River found Grandmasters Summer Bramble and White Phosphorous, of the Eagles and Ravens respectively, waiting for her.

“River.” Bramble gave a slight incline of his head as she entered, no more, scanning instead the perfectly intact weave of the wards. “She’s done it again. Slipped out between our antlers.”

A middle-aged halla, Bramble had been the Grandmaster of Eagle Lodge for only a few years. He was neither stout nor frail, tall nor short, and in general was perfectly plain and unassuming in every regard. Even his muddy brown eyes held little shine or lustre. As the Grandmaster of Eagle Lodge, Bramble was the head of the council, and by extension, the leader of the halla. He wielded his authority with a bluntness that would have astounded his predecessor.

White was an older hind, her movements slow and pained as she walked around the room, her back stiff from a fall when she’d travelled with River’s mother. Silver stripes flowed down her once dark mane from her temples, and her muzzle had started to fade around her lips. Lines of diamond ink ran along her antlers, glistening in the light fluttering through the curtain, complemented by the fine silk robes she wore. The tatoos on her antlers glowed as she worked the spells used to examine the wards.

She gave River a slight smile, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“Not so unusual,” River commented, nodding to the stacks of pony fiction gleaned from the queens previous escapades.

“Except she’s not back to gloat,” Bramble snorted, circling the spellwork. “She’s always back in time for the acolytes to find her, that smug, self-satisfied grin on her muzzle, a new book, or… what do the ponies call them? Newspapers? Yes, newspapers! One of those things open on her bed.” He tapped an impatient hoof, snub-like tail flicking side to side.

After a few moments of silence he barked, “She’s gone to confront Celestia. I know it.”

“Fie,” White and River snorted together, River nodding to Sol as the sun peaked through a window. “If that is the case, than Celestia won. Again.”

“No, no, you’re right. Not Celestia… But Luna!”

Bramble began to pace as he muttered and conjectured.

“The stars have been so peculiar of late. Shining during the day last week, and then last night’s display. Yes… yes… She went to confront Luna! To finally exact revenge for the Betrayal.”

Rolling their eyes, the two hinds began to ignore the Grand Eagle.

“I honestly wonder sometimes…” White shook her head as she dispelled her magic. “Next he’ll start claiming that this is a sign of Tirek’s return.”

“Tirek?” River tilted her head, unfamiliar with the name.

Puffing up his cheek, face red beneath his dusky brown coat, Bramble turned and marched from the room, shouting back, “I am going to discuss matters with the others. Perhaps they will treat this with the seriousness it deserves, not snide comments.”

After the door slammed shut at his hocks, White took River aside.

“It is the foal, isn’t it?” she hissed through her teeth despite them being alone. “Her Majesty has gone to be with her foal at last.”

“I… do not know. It’s a more likely explanation than her going off to fight Celestia or Luna.” River shrugged, taking a slow turn around the room. A pile of ash near the vanity caught her attention.

“A simulacrum,” White explained as she joined River to help inspect the vanity, stepping over the ash pile. “There was a fault in its construction, though willful or unintended I am uncertain. More likely the former. It isn’t a mistake the queen is liable to make.”

“She so loves rubbing others noses in her superiority,” River huffed, glancing over the boxes of jewelry, perfumes, and brushes that covered the vanity. All of Equestrian origin. River stopped when she came to an open box, one embossed with the traditional sigil of House Tuilerya; Iridia’s mark upon a white shield, a halla to the left with a raised staff, a rearing unicorn to the right, and the divine crown above, topped by the Marelantis flourish.

Inside, a little faded and torn around the edges as if it had been taken out often, was a picture of a scrawny unicorn. Her colours were hidden by the black-and-white nature of the photo, though from the shading River figured she’d have a moderately dark coat, with two-stripes—pink and purple—running through a dark blue mane. She was giving a toothy smile, a book held up in her hooves.

Placing the picture back in the box before snapping the lid shut, River left the vanity.

“What was in the box?”

“A picture of who I assume is her daughter.” River grunted as she marched towards the doors.

“So… The princess has emerged from her chrysalis at last.” White chuckled and shook her head as they emerged from the queen’s chambers.

In the antechamber they found the other six grandmasters already deep into an argument. Predictably, Bramble had joined with Darting Tongue of Owl Lodge and Lichen Thread of Badger Lodge in haranguing Sharp Stone of Bear Lodge. The other masters stood off to the side, tutting and mumbling while casting disapproving glares about the room. The stocky grandmaster of the Bears worked his jaw back and forth, his nostrils flaring as he held himself silent.

River caught Bramble saying, “You have been allowing the guards to become lax, Stone. If this were solely up to me… why, I’d—”

“You would do what? Reform the Eternal Herd? March on Equestria and wage war under the pretension that it is saving the ponies? Thirty one years she has had to act, to enact some dark and terrible vengeance on pony kind. And do you know what she’s done? She’s read their books and watched those new moving picture things. Yes, so terrible.” River sneered, contempt for Bramble and his supporters dripping from her tongue.

“We swore an oath, River! And that may mean nothing to you and the other Loyalists,” Bramble gave White and Stone a dirty look, “But it means something to us. For seventy generations we’ve guarded the disc from her, and her from the disc. And yes, if it means that the Eternal Herd must march once more… so be it.”

“It takes a majority vote from a grand conclave to reform the Eternal Herd.” This came from Master Darting Tongue, his teeth clicking as he thought out-loud. “It will take some time to summon all the masters and the heads of the herds.”

Bramble stamped a hoof, bearing over Tongue. “You are siding with them?”

“Of course not,” Tongue retorted. “But the laws are the laws. You have the right to call a grand conclave, but it will take months to organise. Thousands of masters and herds to contact, a place for them to gather to be selected, and so on. Reforming the Eternal Herd is not done on a whim.”

“Then what do you propose?” Bramble snorted, his teeth flashing in his face in an angry snarl.

River had never seen a more disgraceful sight. He was supposed to be the leader of the halla, and here he was, close to an open temper tantrum like a fawn.

Pathetic.

River didn’t realise she’d spoken until she noticed the other grandmasters staring at her. Even White didn’t hide her shock. There was teasing in private, and then there was public shaming. Initiates and acolytes alike, scuttling around the masters as they went about their duty, had stopped, only a few pretending as if they hadn’t heard anything.

“Perhaps I will go, and so will the rest of my lodge. We barely number a few dozen anyways, and our place is at Iridia’s side.” River stamped a hoof, ignoring her gaff. The few members of her lodge along the edges of the room nodded their agreement.

“Your place is here,” countered Bramble. He looked for support from the other grandmasters, and when he received none, River pounced.

The tags on her antlers danced as if a wind blew through the room, eyes aglow with years of pent-up anger. “So, am I a prisoner still? You kept me in these walls, punishing me because you could not my mother, all the while claiming it was for my own good, that I was the ‘White Hind’ and needed to be kept safe. When preventing me from taking the rites that all young halla must didn’t stop me from attaining my mark, you tried to control me instead. When more halla were given the mark of the lioness, you tried to keep us all contained. You even tried to prevent Her Divine Majesty from teaching us of our heritage and the last Lionesses, and failed once more.”

A realization dawned on River as she spoke, one that had been with her for some years, but pushed down and denied. Standing tall and proud, River declared, “I am a White Hind, Grand Lioness, and the High Priestess, first among Iridia’s faithful, and it is my duty to guide the halla with her words and teachings.”

The few members of her lodge present nodded, standing a little taller than usual, their normally bowed backs and lowered ears raised with pride rarely felt.

Bramble sputtered and spat as River’s voice rose, his eye twitching until he shouted back, “You are a half-breed mongrel! You are no more halla than your cow of a mother. The legends that surround the ‘great’ so-called Sorceress, who’d raise her tail at—”

A hoof flashed out, striking Bramble across the muzzle, ending his tirade with a harsh thwack. White sucked in quick, wrathful gasps through clenched teeth as she shook from muzzle to dock. River felt her own rising anger vanish, replaced by fear as White spoke.

“Mind your tongue. I have killed for less of an insult. Had The Sorceress been here to listen to your prattle she’d have visited such torments on you that even I can hardly imagine, and I was there when she woke the queen and opened the doors between realms with but a word. Do not speak of things you know nothing about.”

White laced her words with power, an old wizards trick that could shatter the bravery of even the stoutest hearts. Against Bramble, the effect was devastating, shattering his blustering exterior like a stone through glass to reveal the rotten structure beneath. Incoherent words tripped over each other to escape his throat in a pained whimper, the Grand Eagle backing up against the wall.

“White!” Master Leaf of the Foxes, normally quiet and reserved during the meetings, contained rare anger in his voice, enough to snap White out of her casting. “This bickering is getting us nowhere. Iridia is gone. We must decide what to do about it. All those in favour of the Grand Conclave?”

Only Stone, White, and River were silent.

“Then it is settled. The Grand Conclave shall be called.”

“Good. Good!” Bramble exclaimed, pushing himself away from the wall and past White. “Too long we’ve let Iridia run rampant and loose, sneaking in and out as she pleased. This time she’s gone too far. Our forebears swore to protect the disc from her, and her from the disc, and we’ve all grown too lax and weak.” Bramble gave Stone, White, and River a dismissive snort, turning away from the trio with a flick of his head. “We will do as we were meant to do: bring her home and ensure every beings safety. The drums will be sounded, the conclave will be formed, and on the Summer Solstice the Eternal Herd will march again.”

“No,” River said, just above a whisper. With far greater conviction, she repeated the simple denial. “Call the conclave all you wish. I and the other Lionesses will not be there.” River stamped a hoof twice for emphasis. “You are right, Bramble, the Halla have become weak. Our ancestors didn’t rely on mountains to keep them safe. They traded with the buffalo. Warred with the deer. They lived, laughed, and were free. We have not been free for generations, imprisoned by an oath sworn when the forest was young. No more!”

She took a deep breath, settling herself for what she was about to do. River glanced around the antechamber, to the few initiates and acolytes of her lodge, staring at the eight Grandmasters. A few of the older hinds seemed to read her thoughts, bowing their heads in silent approval. River drew the strength she needed from them.

“I invoke Skilja.” River stood proud as the other grandmasters all took a step back, even Stone and White shocked. A few of the onlookers gasped, and some began to openly weep.

His face contorted, Bramble advanced on River. “You can’t—”

“I believe she can, Bramble.” Tongue shook his head sadly. To River, he said, “If you do this, all of those who follow will no longer be welcome among the Halla. You’ll be exiles, with no home, no family besides those who join you. Your names will be stricken from the scrolls. With your lodge so small it will once again fade in myth. Are you sure this is what is best?”

“We have not been welcome among our kind since the lioness’ mark began to appear once more.” River sighed, years of weariness piling upon her all at once. “We can’t be prisoners to our fate anymore. We are her priestesses, and we can’t spread the lessons of her triumphs and failures from these stone walls.”

“And if she returns?”

With conviction born of certainty, River replied, “She won’t. If Iridia comes back to the Taiga it will be to reclaim her throne, not to sit idle in some gilded cage.”

River turned to leave when Stone called her to stop. “Take Mountain and his lot with you. At least until you reach the pass. The forest is dangerous and you’ll need their protection. Whether they follow further and join you in exile… That will be up to them.”

Nodding her understanding, River set off, mind racing with all the preparations that needed to be made, and how little time there was to make them.

At the next dawn, River led her lodge from Thornhaven. Barely over thirty in number, even counting the Bears, they marched beneath the Queen’s banner, a streak of red among dreary browns and greens. Clouds hung low in the sky with the promise of rain on the horizon. A few played pipes or sang while a viola lay a foundation of regret, played by a solitary member of Fox lodge that had joined the Lionesses. Ahead lay the rolling hills and lakes of the Taiga. Further still the great wall of the Crystalspine Mountains, and beyond those wind-swept, jagged peaks of stone and ice, Equestria.

As the gates clattered shut behind the last initiate in the herd, drums began to rumble from the top of Thornhaven’s towers, echoing through the forest and repeated until they’d be heard from one side of the Taiga to the other. A few turned to look back at their old home until the walls and blue slate roof disappeared into the trees and behind a tall hill. They picked up their pace, each knowing the same truth.

The Grand Conclave was summoned and the Eternal Herd would march once more.

Book One: Chapter Ten: Medicine, Politics, and Faith

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book One: Awakening and Arrivals
Chapter Ten: Medicine, Politics, and Faith

The carriage rolled quickly through the moon-bathed streets of Canterlot, jostling its solitary occupant as it made turns far sharper than needed. The pony at the reigns had been told, in no uncertain terms, that his fare needed to reach the palace with all haste. Not a moment to be lost. Taken by dreams of a daring chase, or the foul work of an assassin or spy in the making, he’d sped off at once.

Not that the pony inside the carriage noticed the rougher than normal passage through the city.

He leaned on his hoof, staring out the window at the valley so far bellow, mind pre-occupied with the missive he’d received three nights hence. A missive sealed with the royal crest.

A lean, middle-aged stallion, he was remarkable only in how unkempt he looked, brown mane cut short and scraggly and his creamy-white coat unbrushed. Even the vest he wore, the gold chain of a pocket watch dangling down his front, was unremarkable and a little faded, with old coffee stains around the collar its only distinguishing feature. This image of blandness ended at the stallion’s eyes, a pair of cold, calculating watery orbs that seemed to stare through other ponies, making them shiver and avoid conversation.

He tossed an extra two bits to the driver on reaching the palace’s side entrance, making his way past the guards with only a curt nod and presentation of the letter he’d received. Thrice he had to stop to ask for directions before he found his way to a reading room. The guards at this door give him far more trouble, looking the disagreeable stallion over as they checked the letter, ensuring authenticity, before letting him pass.

A well furnished room filled with dark maple bookshelves stuffed almost to overflowing, cushions placed throughout, and a low tea table sitting before a crackling fireplace created a warm atmosphere that was solid and homey. Book floating before her, Celestia hardly glanced up as the door opened. Placing a bookmark to mark her spot, she turned her full attention on her visitor.

“Dr. Timely Crown, I presume?”

Timely made a leg, saying, “At your service, Your Divine Highness.”

Showing no reaction to the title, Celestia waved him to a cushion while reaching for a bottle of wine.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said in a low voice, taking the proffered glass as he settled himself across from her.

Topping her own glass—Celestia had been relaxing for some time already—she asked, “Do you know why you are here, Dr. Crown?”

“Not the foggiest, ma’am. Your letter was brief and wonderfully worded, but you did dance around the point most marvelously. ‘Come at all haste on a matter of the utmost urgency’, was the most pertinent line.”

“Yes, I’m sorry for the secrecy involved.” Celestia emitted a short laugh.

“I must confess, ma’am,” Timely began as he set his wine down, “I am confused as to what purpose calling a simple medical stallion such as myself could entail. Surely, you have your own physicians, should you require such services. Plus, I’ve hardly practiced my trade by land in many years, and, as you are no-doubt aware, the medicine of the sea is a far cry from that of my terrestrial peers.”

Celestia inclined her head, her humour fading. “I am, indeed. It is precisely for your expertise of medicine of a nautical nature that I summoned you, however.”

“Truly?”

“My cousin will soon be departing on a voyage for Zebrica,” Celestia explained, taking from her desk an old tome and passing it to Timely. “I have it on good authority that you are one of the best doctors within the navy. Lord Sail suggested you immediately when I told him of the nature and duration of the voyage.”

Timely took the tome with reverent hooves, admiring its wood bound cover. “Did he? That is rather handsome of him.” He patted the tome a couple times, then set it aside, laying it down next to him. “I should tell you, ma’am, that I can not accept, no matter how much seeing the fauna of Zebrica would delight me to no end. Why, the leopard and the Zebrican Golden Cat alone would be a dream to view! To say nothing of the monkey or the fabled chimp. What I would give to see a chimp in her native habitat… But no, quite impossible.”

A frown graced Celestia’s lips as Timely stood and began to bid her a good-eve.

“And why is that?”

He seemed confused for a second, head tilted to the side, watery eyes scrunched together.

“Why, because I made a promise.”

“To your friend, Captain Hardy?”

Timely gave a start at the name, then settled, muttering, “Of course you know his name. You would have done your research, naturally.”

“Naturally,” Celestia repeated as Timely returned to his cushion, folding his legs beneath his barrel. “His name came up among the possible candidates to captain this voyage.”

From her desk Celestia retrieved a manila folder thick with documents. Opening it and laying it on the table, she pulled out a few sheets of parchment, dense writing in a cramped script filling every available space.

“He has had a distinguished career. Captured a half-dozen pirates plying our waters. Has completed two voyages to the Inponesian Islands. Been to the edge of the disc and back. A glowing list of recommendations by his peers and a few within the Admiralty. If not for this business about his sister being a Radical—siding with Blackwell during the extended night caused by my sister’s return, and the constant calls for dissolving the crown—he’d have been made a Baronet by now.”

Celestia tucked the loose sheets back into the folder. Atop the folder she placed a new sheet of parchment, one headed by the Royal Crest, and below it that of the Admiralty. Without a shred of doubt, Timely knew they’d be orders for Hardy to take command of whatever ship it was that would carry Princess Twilight to the central continent.

“By the time you return to Baltimare, he will have already received his orders and instructions. You were invited here to receive your own, as well as the tools you’ll need.” Celestia indicated with a nod the tome. “You’ll find within its pages everything I’ve been taught and uncovered on alicorn physiology, Dr. Crown.”

Glancing back to the tome, Timely’s features went to one of wonder, losing their angry edge. Turning back to Celestia, he asked, “Why me? Surely the Royal Physician would be more appropriate.”

“That was my initial thought as well, but, when I asked him, he confessed his lack of knowledge when it comes to the techniques employed at sea.”

An amused snort erupted from Timely.

“I am not surprised. The ocean’s aetherial currents play havoc on the sensitive equipment the doctors have become so reliant upon, to say nothing of the jostling and rolling, the damp and the salt-spray. A blessing of fools. Take away their devices and enchanted stones and they are as lost as the lowest apprentice. My loblolly filly could do better.”

Celestia shared his amusement, stating, “He said as much, though far less disparaging on his profession, naturally.”

Flipping the aged tome open, Timely began to skim its contents, his face flowing from wonder to confusion to wonder once more. Some sections he merely glanced at, while others he devoured. “Such knowledge within these pages… The quality of these diagrams. And these spell formulae… I do not recognize more than a quarter of the runes for any of them.”

“That is because they are lost. Even I can’t recall them anymore.”

“I find that difficult to believe, ma’am. To forget a rune is supposed to be impossible once it has been bound to your magic.”

Finishing her wine, Celestia simply gave a tired, mirthless laugh.

“It is possible to forget a rune, but the process is irreversible. Luna and I… we chose to give up a great many runes believing it would help protect our ponies from another Discord. At the time it seemed like the right decision. In retrospect…”

“The Third Reformation?”

Celestia just inclined her head.

Snapping the book shut, Timely stood once more.

“You have given me little choice, I find, ma’am. Very well, I will accept.”

At the door from the office, Timely hesitated, turning back to ask, “Ma’am, if it is not too presumptuous, but why travel by ship at all? Surely, Princess Twilight could teleport to Zerubaba, conduct whatever task awaits her, and be back in time for tea.”

“You never studied Abjurations?”

“I did not. Medicine and spellcraft are not so intertwined as they once were, as you know. I’m afraid I’m not the most adept caster around.”

Celestia smiled at the blunt honesty and curiosity behind the question.

“Teleportation is an interesting discipline, Dr. Crown. Twilight could go to the heavens, and from there gaze down on every city on the disc, learn every road, canal, forest or glen. And she’d never be able to use magic to reach them. It’s like looking down on a garden from the top of a tower. We can see the big, grand picture, and infer many of the details, but the perspective is all wrong. Unless you have a beacon to act as a guide, or some other method of scrying the location, long distance teleportation is too great a risk. This is atop the other sundry details of distance, power and so on. Ask Twilight about it, I’m sure she’d love to explain all the nuances involved.”

“I may do so, ma’am. We’ll certainly have the time.”

With their business completed, Celestia called for a page to help see the doctor out of the palace.

Silence broken only by the steady rhythmic tick-tock of a grandfather clock filled the Prench Ambassadorial manor. The servants had retired to the downstairs, sitting around an old weathered table as they shared stories, enjoying a late meal of the leftovers from their employer’s dinner. The laughter and friendly teasing didn’t reach Fleur or Fancy, the pair up in the library.

Fleur sat at her writing desk, a house-coat wrapped around her withers, a pot of steaming tea beside her, and a candle gently flickering from a sconce set in the wall. In her gentle golden-yellow magic hovered a quill, the tip dipping into an open inkwell before being returned to the open pages of a journal. Most of the page was already covered in Fleur's flowing cursive writing, little loops and flourishes showing throughout.

With a last flourish, Fleur finished transcribing her thoughts as the clock struck nine, the heavy chimes flowing through the otherwise still manor. Stifling a yawn, Fleur glanced over to Fancy, her husband sitting in his old chair, a book before his nose. She made a soft chidding noise as she began to put her writing tools away. Fancy refused to use the reading glasses she’d purchased for him the previous Hearth’s Warming Eve.

Her eyes drooped as she went to put the journal away.

A jolt snapped through Fleur. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she tried to banish the drowsiness descending on her like a heavy fog rolling along the valley below Canterlot.

It did little good.

A week of little sleep, and what she’d managed to sneak in the evening plagued by dreams, struck back with a determined force. Her chin fell to the surprisingly comfortable desk, eyes fluttering shut, and a whispering plea of, “Fancy,” before the dreams claimed Fleur, Equestria drifting behind a veil.

They first thing she noticed as the world returned to focus was the smell of incense and a distant, rhythmic chant. Fleur soaked up the warm smells as she marched down an open corridor, of sorts. There were no walls, only crenelated pillars that held up a painted ceiling. To one side sat a garden around a pomegranate tree, while on the other stretched an open plaza with an alicorn fountain. Ponies in robes, hoods drawn up to hide the faces of the stallions, or decked in beads and jewels for mares, traveled in small groups, pendants dangling from their necks proclaiming the goddess or god they served.

“Is she mad at us? Do you think she knows?”

Fleur glanced to her left, a pony striding in her shadow on long, powerful legs. Taller than Fleur, perhaps taller than even Celestia, the pony carried herself with pride and determination. Her coat was the colour of brown sugar, with yellow-green eyes like a pair of granny smith apples half hidden behind curling locks of her wheat toned mane, a chocolate stripe running just behind her horn. Clothed in a loose white dress with brown trim and a bronze peytral bearing her mark, bound stalks of wheat flanked by torches.

“It doesn’t matter.” Fleur shrugged, returning her attention forward.

Quick stepping to pull fully beside Fleur, her companion clicked her tongue, making a sound like a rock falling into a well.

“Mother is not to be taken lightly, Athena.”

Arching a brow, Fleur replied, “Neither am I, Demeter. She can’t know how far along our plans have progressed. We will save—”

“Heya!”

Fleur, to her credit, didn’t yelp. At least, not loudly enough for anypony other than Demeter to hear her.

Before her, not a feather’s width away, were a pair of eyes of a perfect crystal blue, perched above a flashing grin set into a candy-pink face.

Stumbling back, Fleur snapped, “Authea! How often must you be told not to do that?”

Tilting her head to one side like a confused dog, Authea drew her smile into a very slight frown. Short and plump, with wings that just reached the edge of her cutie mark, a stubby horn poking from her limp smokey-silver mane, Authea was far from pretty. She wasn’t precisely plain either, not with the shining amusement in her eyes, but a happy middle-ground.

“I’m sorry, I just got back from Olympus and, by Zeus’ beard, are my wings tired.” She waited a moment for perhaps a giggle from Fleur and Demeter, the pair exchanging weary glances instead. “No, really.” Authea sagged, leaning up against Demeter. “Have you ever flown from Olympus? It’s, like, forever and ever away! At least a thousand leagues.”

“Four hundred and fifty three, actually,” Demeter corrected with a snort, pushing Authea off of her. “And what were you doing visiting the Olympians after everything they’ve done?”

“I wasn’t. Well, not the Olympians, anyways. I was with Lachesis.” Authea punctuated her statement with a happy nod followed by a giggle. “She invited me to her cave at the mountain’s base.”

Fleur at once grew weary. She’d never heard the name, herself, but her dream-self seemed to know the pony in question.

“What does that hag want?”

“Want? Nothing. I think. She’s hard to read.” Authea tapped her chin in thought. “I mean, you know how she is always—”

Groaning with frustration, Demeter clarified, asking, “What did you talk about?”

“Oh! She told me why Hope had been fading lately, that there was a big storm coming that would travel across realms and alter the foundations of all our worlds. Or something like that. I wasn’t really paying attention at the time to busy poking around her cupboards. There is—”

“Hope is fading?” Fleur ruffled her wings—still an unusual feeling even after so many dreams. “Hope for what?”

“Just, Hope. All Hope.” Authea waved her hooves to encompass the entire temple, and perhaps the world beyond. “Makes me rather sleepy, actually. But she told me not to worry, that Hope would be restored.” A pause, in which Fleur began to push past Authea, only to stop as she heard, “Oh, and I was given a message that she said I had to tell you.”

When no message came, Fleur stopped to turn back to Authea, the other pony rocking from side to side as if she were about to fall over.

“You had something to tell me, cousin,” Fleur prompted.

“Huh? Oh! Um, how did it go. She said it had to be repeated just so. Let me think.” Thumping the side of her head hard enough to crack solid stone, Authea exclaimed, “I have it!

"Follow the Stars to the east. If she is to succeed, you must go to the east with her. But, beware the beasts three; the serpent of the seas, the dragon in the prison of gold, and the light that has become as shadow. Find the path to Wisdom’s daughter, tonight, in the court graced by the Moon. Only through their salvation will you find your own.”

Fleur frowned.

“I don’t have a daughter, Authea.”

“But you will!” Authea almost bounced on the spot, her wide smile returning. “Isn’t that exciting?”

“No.” Fleur pushed Authea back. “I have no desire for foals. And why must they speak in riddles? The whole thing is nonsense.”

Shrugging her wings, Authea said, “The message wasn’t for you, Athena. It was for Fleur.”

“Who, in all that is holy, is Fleur?” Fleur snarled, extending her wings and advancing a step on Authea.

Again, Authea shrugged. “I don’t know. All Lachesis said was that I had to tell it to you, and that it will reach Fleur de Lis, and she will know what to do.”

Stepping forward, a worried pinch to her brow, Demeter added, “The Fates are never wrong, cousin.”

“No, but they do—”

“Oh! I forgot something!” Authea jumped next to Fleur, grabbing her head and pulling it around so their noses almost touched. In a voice that boomed across valleys, she shouted, “Wake up!”

Fleur threw herself backwards to get away from Authea, tumbling from her desk and knocking over her inkpot in the process. Heart hammering in her chest, it took Fleur a few moments to recognise her library, with the steady ticking of her clock. A hoof on her side almost made Fleur jump out of her skin, coat standing on end and a startled ‘eep’ not dissimilar from that given in the dream filling the library.

“Love, are you alright?” asked Fancy, his mane laying flat against one side of his face from where he’d been leaning in his chair.

“I… Oui, I think so, bien-aimée.” Using one of her best smiles, Fleur rolled to her hooves, noticing with some distaste that ink was spreading across the carpet and had dotted her coat. Groaning at the mess, Fleur reached for her blotting paper, only to stop and watch in amazement as the ink slid off her coat, dripping onto the carpet. There was not a mark left behind, her coat prestine.

Looking to Fancy, she saw him wearing the same look of shock that thrummed through her.

“By Celestia’s mane… How?”

Brushing the question aside, Fleur began to mop up the ink, her mind racing as it replayed the dream. A glance at the clock showed it was just before seven. Nightcourt would open in a few hours, plenty of time to gather her things and reach the palace.

“Fancy, my love, do you trust me?” Fleur asked as she reached for the bell-string to summon Mr. Key.

A bit off-put by the question, it was almost a second before Fancy replied, “Of course, dear. To the edge of the disc, if necessary.”

“Then trust me that this,” Fleur gestured to where the ink had struck her, “isn’t the greater concern.”

“What happened? You dreamed again, didn’t you.”

“Oui.” Fleur didn’t expand right away, busy re-opening her journal and taking a fresh inkpot from a cabinet. Setting a quill to transcribing the most recent dream while it was still fresh in her thoughts, she explained what she’d experienced. “I know it seems foalish, Fancy, but I believe the dreams are messages. Why or how? I do not know, but I must follow them, wherever they may lead.”

Before Fancy could respond, Mr. Key appeared in the doorway, asking in his low tone, “You rang, My lady?”

“Oui. Have my carriage readied and brought out front at once. I must go to the palace. Oh, and have Miss Potts bring up a bucket of soapy water.”

“Very well, My lady.” Mr. Key’s eyes danced across his employers faces, the stain on the carpet, and the open journal with the quill darting unsupervised across its pages. “Carriage out front, and Miss Potts to clean.”

As Mr. Key left, Fleur turned to Fancy, expecting him to perhaps argue or suggest putting things off until tomorrow and going to Daycourt. Instead she found him staring at her.

“Fancy, are you alright?”

Stepping forward to nuzzle Fleur, he said into her mane, “No, but only because you are not.”

“I am fine, bien-aimée.”

“That is where you are wrong, love.” Fancy sighed, not breaking the nuzzle. “You just cast a Class Three Memory-Transcription spell without looking at your journal. Something I’ve never seen you able to do.”

Fleur’s blood chilled. She turned to the journal, watching the quill finish its work, ending with a sharp tap before settling into the quill pot.

“I see…” Fleur whispered. Collecting her saddlebags, Fleur slid her most recent journal inside. Placing the bags over her flanks, she gave Fancy a last, lingering smile. "I'll see you in the morning."

“You’re certain you wish to do this alone?” he asked, concern heavy in his voice and on his withers.

“Oui.” She kissed him on the bridge of the nose, then slipped towards the door, lingering for a moment in the space between the library and salon. “I need to do this alone, Fancy. You are always being the strong one, giving me the support I need. For once, it’s my turn. I’ll be back late.”

“I’ll wait for you. No need for you to return to a cold, dark home. I’ll have Miss Potts put on some tea at, say, one in the morning.”

Fleur smiled, shook her head in wonder at what she’d done to deserve such a stallion, and kissed him again. She was the matron, and it was supposed to be the matron who protected the rest of the herd, even if it was a herd of two. It always felt the other way around with Fancy.

Tossing on a light cloak to ward off the chill of Canterlot's spring night, Fleur stepped into the entrance hall where she was met by Mr. Key.

“The carriage is ready, just as you requested, My Lady,” he said as he opened the door, the doormare suspiciously absent.

Giving the head butler a slight smile, she asked, “Do you mean to dissuade me, monsieur Key?”

“Nothing of the sort, My Lady,” he chortled, walking her down the path to the waiting carriage. “I meant to wish you well and… and to say… and I mean no impertinence, but to say that we are all with you in this. Princess Luna will be able to help. I am certain of it.”

He gently closed the carriage door, gave the drivers a nod, and then stepped off the street, waiting until Fleur’s carriage disappeared around a bend before returning to the manor.

Few ponies were in the streets of Canterlot so late in the evening. A collection of drunken young mares and stallions staggered their way home from the social clubs. The occasional pair of royal guards strode past, eyes fixed ahead but taking in everything around them.

With the growth in activity among the stars in the nights following her presentation, there’d been a corresponding growth among evening parties. Star watching was the fad of the hour, with clubs staying open later and gardens filled with strings of candle lanterns. Fleur didn’t believe it would last long. The same reaction had followed Luna’s return, as had a downturn in activity after only a few months.

A crowd of revelers, slowly making their way towards the city’s edge, slowed and then stopped her carriage. Thanking the driver, Fleur went the rest of the way to the palace on hoof. She had the time for the stroll, a nearby clock tower proclaiming it was still a good half-hour before Nightcourt opened. Lifting her head, breathing in the crisp mountain air, Fleur took in the beauty of the night sky created by Luna and Twilight. A thin smile managed to tug at her lips as a pair of stars twirled and danced high above the Dragonsmoke Mountains to the west.

Fleur couldn't help but giggle as a couple of young lovers cooed at the stars' display while a pair of older stallions with night themed cutie marks just shook their heads and grumbled softly. Mutterings of discontent about the changes to the night had been growing among the more dedicated star watching community.

Even the other ambassadors and embassies had voiced concerns. While it would still be some time before the letters and missives from their homelands began arriving, asking about the sudden alterations and odd occurrences in the night, all the ambassadors knew they were coming. The Minoan delegation had gone so far as to proclaim the dancing stars a sign of the End Days. Most of the other ambassadors just rolled their eyes at the Minotaurs; not a week went by where something wasn't a harbinger of the end of the world, according to them.

Not everypony was concerned or upset with the changes. Like the young lovers on the terrace, there were many who enjoyed the displays. Painters, musicians, and poets in particular flocked to the stars antics, immortalizing the spectacle in their art.

Fleur had to wonder how the new, high-strung princess was handling the complaints and adoration.

A fair sized crowd stood outside the doors to the Nightcourt, quietly muttering to each other while a pair of Luna's Nightguards stood at attention. Between them, checking over her notes as she did every evening, stood Luna’s seneschal, Quick Quill.

Rather young for her position, Quick Quill was a dusky violet mare with a dull pink mane. Every few moments she blew a stray strand out of her eyes that had escaped from the prim bun she’d tied her mane into. Glancing up as Fleur approach, there was a moment of surprise behind her glasses that was quickly replaced by a look of pure business.

“Ambassador.” Quick Quill gave Fleur a shallow nod. “You have business with the Nightcourt?”

“Oui.” Fleur went to add more, but closed her mouth instead.

Quick Quill didn’t seem too interested or concerned, jotting Fleur’s name down and rearranging the list. While Celestia had a first-come, first-served policy, Luna operated Nightcourt in a more traditional manner. Traditional being synonymous with preferential, favouring ponies of importance over the commoners. It came as no surprise when Fleur’s name was moved to almost the top of the list.

Moving aside, Fleur glanced over the crowd. There were many commoners formed of a combination of the curious and those who had actual issues to be seen by the court. A cluster of astronomers stood with the head of their guild, Lord Parallax. Husband to Countess Lulamoon, the lord sneered at the commoners, every aspect of him oozing disdain and self aggrandizement, from the set of his withers to the inclination of his head.

A short distance from the lord and his entourage sat a group of dusk coated unicorns that could only be gypsies of some sort. They all wore vests or shawls of bright greens checkered with red and yellow, bandanas tied over their heads with their long horns just poking out. Gold hoops hung from their ears, and the stallions all had their tails docked while the mares wore bangles around their fetlocks. Playing a game of dice, the group paid no attention to the rest of the crowd.

She’d started to move on to the next portion of the crowd when the doors to the throne room were opened and they were ushered inside. The rows of seats from the presentation had been removed, and the twin thrones returned. Milling forward, the crowd formed a loose clump, with partial separations between the various groups.

Luna sat on her obsidian throne, a grin that was all business beneath her twinkling eyes, leaning down to speak with Twilight. The younger princess sat on a simple velvet cushion, her head held up to better hear Luna. It was hard to tell, but Fleur was sure she saw a deep blush on Twilight's cheeks. Both princesses looked over to the crowd as they entered and performed the traditional short bow.

Taking her place on Luna’s right, Quick Quill called the first pony forward.

Or, rather, group of ponies, as the blessing of unicorns Fleur had taken for gypsies made their way to the open space at the base of the steps to the thrones.

Sweeping into a low bow, the group’s leader said, “Princess, Goddess of Stars,” one of the astronomers snorted, “Daughter of Spring, I am Alanotte, of the Elesian herds, and we come bearing a gift for you.”

Fleur’s ears pricked forward after sorting through the mare’s heavy zbori accent. She’d never seen one of the highland unicorns from the border regions between the Old Queendoms and the domain of the Pegasi. Growing up she’d heard stories of the wandering unicorns, how they eschewed the mountains and forests for rolling hills, pulling their wagon-homes from town to town where they’d sell their magic potions and spellwork said to descend from those practiced by the ancient unicorns of Thuelesia, and Lost Marelantis.

She’d imagined them as being… taller.

The stout, solidly built unicorns were nothing like the tall, exotic ponies in the paintings and picture books in Prance. They didn’t even have the unshorn fetlocks or the wild, bushy tangled manes and tails.

Taking an object bound in dark satin from one of the stallions, Alanotte presented their gift.

“Our ancestors, in a time so long ago we have lost count of the years, were entrusted with the sacred duty of guarding one of the gifts of your herd.”

Arching a brow, but not saying anything, Twilight took the object and undid the cords binding the cloth. Lifting a fold, Twilight emitted a delighted little squeal, her magic moving faster to throw the rest of the satin aside to reveal a large book.

“This is amazing!” Twilight’s hooves traced patterns and symbols etched into the books surface, Fleur unable to make any of them out. “I’ve never seen such precise rune-work on a book before,” she said before turning to Luna and beginning to gush over the book’s various qualities. “A triple-decked, septuplet bound demiurgic latticed rune system weaved through a… No, this is impossible. What material is this? Nothing should be able to hold a glyph of this nature.”

Luna simply frowned at the book, then asked Alanotte, “Whom did your ancestors say entrusted this book to them?”

“Who gave them the book is lost, I am afraid, She of the Night.” Alanotte bowed again. “All I know is that on the solstice of last summer, the Namegiver came to me in a vision, telling me to take it and my kin westward, across the oceans, and there I would learn to whom to give the book.”

“I see,” Luna whispered in a low, almost dangerous voice. “So, she is up to her games again.”

Not looking away from the book, Twilight asked, “Do you know what this is, Princess Luna?”

For a few seconds Luna was quiet, her features shifting from bemusement to a half-hidden grimace.

“That, Twilight, is The Book of Spring,” Luna replied. “But that should be impossible. All copies of the book were destroyed, along with the original.” Tapping a hoof on the legrest, Luna fixed Alanotte with a piercing stare. “You seem to have made an error, however. Our aunt has also revealed herself and is within the palace even now. The Book of Spring is hers.”

“While I wouldn’t say I know more than you, Princess Luna, all I know is that in my heart it was Twilight that I was meant to pass the book onto. Nopony else. It was on the day of her ascension that we arrived on your fair shores. The stars began to gather just as I set hoof on the docks. Surely, a sign of whom the book was meant for.”

“Just because two events happen at the same time is not indicative of any correlation,” Twilight piped up. Holding the book against her barrel, she added, “Thank you. I’ll make sure this finds a good, safe home. Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

Alanotte tapped her hoof as if working up the courage to say what she wanted.

“All we ask is to serve you.”

“To… what?” Twilight tilted her head. “I don’t need anypony to ‘serve me’.”

“Nonsense, Your Divine Highness,” Alanotte laughed, the sound full and rumbling from her chest. “All great ponies need those to serve them, to protect their interests or perform deeds either beneath them or unsuitable to one of their stature. Or, for which they simply do not have the time to attend to.” Gesturing to the Nightguards along the walls, Alanotte finished with, “Besides, do your cousins not have their guards and an entire nation that serves them?”

“But Luna… Celestia doesn’t…” Twilight began to protest, only to stop. Beside her, Luna was almost shaking from trying to hold in her laughter, eyes crinkled at the corners. “This isn’t funny,” Twilight huffed, crossing her hooves.

“Yes, it is. You trotted right into that one.” Luna patted Twilight across the withers with a wing. In her officious tone, Luna said to Alanotte, “How, precisely, would you like to serve my cousin?”

“My daughters and sons are all strong of body and quick of mind, and it did not escape our notice that Princess Twilight lacks guards.”

“But I don’t want guards!” Twilight protested, half rising. “I don’t even need them.”

Luna, it seemed, had other ideas, saying, “It is not a bad idea, on one hoof. But I am less comfortable with trusting ponies that have only just arrived. We know nothing about you. It makes more sense to draw from the royal guard.”

Bristling, Alanotte gave an oath in her native tongue, then said, “We gave away one of the greatest treasures on the entire disc! What more proof could you want than that?”

“A great treasure it may be,” Luna inclined her head, “but that proves neither honour nor loyalty. Or ones ability to protect a goddess.” She then shook her mane. “Besides, you claim my mother sent you, and that is reason enough to turn you away. I did not trust her to name my daughter, I will not entrust the safety of one of the ponies closest to my heart to those she sends with a book better off lost.”

A polite cough stopped Luna.

“I appreciate your concern, but I think this is my decision, isn’t it?” Twilight smiled sweetly at Luna. Huffing a little, Luna didn’t argue, though she continued to wear her discontent like a badge. Standing to address the gypsies, Twilight said, “I concede that I may find myself in need of personal guards. However, it no small thing to decide how to fill those roles. So, until then, I invite you and yours to be guests of the palace.” Turning to Luna, she added, “Unless you find this untenable.”

Luna mumbled something, but did not object. A Nightguard was commanded to help the group settle and find temporary beds while a permanent solution was found. Thanking both princesses, the gypsies bowed and left with wide grins, a few of the younger members going so far as to mimic the movements of the stars beyond the windows.

For the next hour, court was relatively bland and uninteresting, comprised mostly of ponies curious to meet Twilight, their issues minor in the extreme. Luna let Twilight deal with these ponies, leaning on her throne’s rest with an amused glimmer behind her large, blue eyes.

It gave Fleur an opportunity to think more on what she was going to say. No novice to court politics, Fleur had been regularly visiting Daycourt since she was a filly. Her parents had thought it best for Fleur to be indoctrinated into politics at a young age. Since they’d passed away, victims of a brief cholera epidemic that had swept Equestria, Fleur had been Prance’s ambassador, furthering her immersion in politics.

And she still wasn’t sure what to say.

How did one tell two living goddesses that you dreamed you were a goddess like them?

Fleur was brought out of her musings by Quill's sharp voice calling Lord Parallax and the Astronomer’s Guild forward.

A confident swagger in his steps, Lord Parallax went to the base of the steps to the thrones. He barely bowed at all before opening his mouth.

“Princess Luna Invictus, Countess Twilight Sparkle, I’m—”

“Princess Twilight Tuilerya,” interjected Luna with an almost bored snort.

Twilight’s blush deepened and she lowered her head a little, muttering something to Luna. Lord Parallax, gaping a little like a fish that had jumped out of its bowl, corrected his mistake, sneering. “Princess Twilight Tuilerya.”

Fleur got the impression such similar corrections had been happening since Twilight had begun to sit at the Nightcourt. Lord Parallax’s lack of respect was not as common, judging by the way Luna straightened and narrowed her gaze, turning it into a glare that could cut through tempered steel.

Whether he was driven by willful ignorance or arrogance, Fleur wasn’t certain. The lord certainly had a reputation among the nobility for being pushy, block-headed, and over-indulged by his wife, a sweet but timid creature that was far more liked than her husband.

“We have come to demand that the stars be returned to their proper spots in the sky.” Though he made no indication, it was clear he meant the other members of the astronomers guild with him.

“Excuse me?”

This came from Twilight, any sense of bashfulness or embarrassment vanishing.

“We mean no disrespect, of course. But this tampering in the natural order needs to cease. The stars are—”

“Mine.” Twilight stamped a hoof.

Parallax looked between the princesses, his face contorting through a range of emotions before settle on a disdainful sneer.

“I beg to differ. In the landmark ruling of House Spectral versus Concave Parabolic of 1253, Princess Celestia decreed that no pony could own a celestial entity. I have the necessary documents, if you doubt me.”

Twilight blinked a few times, while Luna took the proffered documents, her features taking a stormy cast. Her expression only grew more severe as she flipped through the pages.

“He is correct. According to this, my sister did decree that no pony could ‘possess something beyond Ioka’s disc’.”

“What?” Twilight shot her cousin a deadpan glare, reaching for the papers.

Lord Parallax’s smug grin grew as Twilight read, and then re-read the ancient ruling.

She frowned. Flipped the pages over to see if there was anything written on the back. Squinted and muttered something to herself.

“Can’t believe I am listening to this,” Twilight snorted, shuffling through the papers for a final time.

Passing the papers back to Lord Parallax, Twilight replied, “No, you’re right. I don’t own the stars.” Twilight put on a wolfish grin, one that unsettled the astronomers around Lord Parallax. “I am the stars.”

With a shake of her mane as if she’d just come out of a pool, Twilight cast dozens of stars from her mane. The court gasped, many of the astronomers jumping back as if they were being confronted by a cloud of bees. Through the windows, Fleur noticed a swath of the sky had grown blank, empty of the lights that had been merrily spinning only moments before. Humming, the cloud of stars zipped and hurtled around the throne room, flitting above ponies’ heads or between their legs.

Ears firmly pressed back and tail clamped between his legs, Parallax let out a little whimper as one of the star came to rest just above the tip of his nose.

“Well, if you want to convince them to stop dancing, here’s your chance.” Twilight made little effort to hide her skepticism at the stallion’s chances.

“But, it’s a star! You can’t talk to a star!” he exclaimed, scooting back a couple lengths, the star keeping pace.

Twilight’s frown returned, deeper than before.

“How then, pray tell, am I to stop them?”

Yeah! You can’t stop us from dancing, little pony. We’ll spin and shimmy and cha-cha and tango and waltz the night away, we will! The star above Parallax cackled, darting from side to side like a boxer about to strike. Laughter and jeers echoed down from the stars circling overhead.

Leaning over, Luna whispered something to Twilight. Luna didn’t hide her amusement at the situation, especially when Twilight gave an incredulous huff.

“What do you mean he won’t be able to hear them?” Twilight waved at the buzzing stars.

“Just that,” Luna replaced her humour with a stern glower. “It takes years of training to be able to hear a spirit.”

“The stars aren’t spirits though!” Twilight protested, waving her hooves at the cluster of lights that had started to gather together above the crowd.

Fleur watched in rapt attention as a few drifted down around her and a few other ponies. One star in particular, brighter than any of the others present, settled on Fleur’s nose. A cool tingle flowed from the star, tickling her face. Crossing her eyes, Fleur found herself able to stare past the star’s outer light and into the dense core beneath. Bands of tight aether, formed of alternating strings of black and silver, pulsated and thrummed in time to a hidden heartbeat.

So focused on the sight, Fleur missed the next few quips between Twilight and Parallax. She was caught unprepared as Twilight jumped to her hooves, and in a voice heard as far away as Ponyville, shouted, “The stars are mine alone!”

Manes were blown back, the chandeliers rattled, and Lord Parallax and the astronomers directly behind him were blown over and thrown from the room like tumbleweeds. Eyes rolling in their heads, it took the group a few moments to collect their wits and scramble down the corridor and out of the palace.

Panting and the right side of her face twitching, Twilight demanded of the remaining crowd, “Is anypony else here to tell me how I can or can not treat my stars?”

A few shifted from hoof to hoof, ears pressed back, but none spoke up.

“Good.” Twilight gave a firm nod and sat back down.

With a wave of a wing, she called the stars back to her, the cluster darting into her mane and re-appearing back in the sky through the windows. All except the star resting on Fleur’s nose.

“Vega?” Twilight stepped off her cushion, waving her wing again. Fleur was tugged a few hoof-lengths towards the princess by the star. “Get over here. I’m not going to have you flying off.”

Something is wrong with this pony, sweetheart, Vega protested, clinging tighter to Fleur and making her knicker in surprise.

“That’s Fleur. She’s an acquaintance of mine, of ours. Leave her alone.” Twilight’s admonishing tone was well practiced. Taking the stairs from the throne to the open floor two at a time, Twilight marched up to Fleur and Vega. “I’m really sorry about this, Fleur.”

Fleur attempted to say that it was alright, that no harm had been done, but found her tongue refused to cooperate, numbed by Vega’s touch. A surge of fright made her ears fold back, Fleur attempting to reach out with her magic to push the star away. There was a flickering crackle as she touched Vega, followed by a flashing bang that sent nearby ponies skittering. Stunned, Fleur fell back with a soft thump, her ears ringing and blinded by dozens of spots like she’d tried to stare up at Sol.

When her vision cleared, Fleur found Vega hovering above Twilight’s head, the princess rubbing her own eyes and muttering

She’s dead, sweetheart. Or a part of her is, rather. Vega protested, flitting down to hover between Twilight and Fleur. Or was? Or wasn’t, but was? She feels dead, at least. But not. Groaning, Vega’s light turned a dark purple, almost matching Twilight’s coat.

“I’m not dead,” Fleur protested, the words fumbled only a little as the numbness passed.

Not you. The other you. Vega huffed, Fleur getting the distinct impression that the star would have crossed her hooves, had she possessed any.

“Wait, you can hear her?” Twilight frowned.

“Oui. Like a little chittering chipmunk.”

Chittering? Chipmunk? I’ll have you know my voice has been described as proud and husky. Chittering chipmunk… Never been so insulted. Was only trying to help, too. Vega pouted as she drifted into Twilight’s mane and back to the night sky.

“Are you okay? She didn’t hurt you, did she? Sirius accidently burned a page’s ear last week…” Twilight looked at Fleur this way and that, inspecting her face for any sign of damage.

“Non, I am fine. Was startled by the numbing effect, that is all.”

Twilight’s features morphed into a look of relief.

“That is good,” Luna said in a formal tone. "Ambassador Fleur de Lis, it is a pleasure to see you at our court. To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?"

Fleur licked her lips, and, for a moment, she considered lying and returning home to her thick covers and the warm embrace of her husband. It'd be so simple, and they were just dreams. It was silly to talk to the Goddess of the Moon about dreams, wasn't it? Fleur shook herself out of her reverie, realizing she'd been standing silent for too long while the princess awaited her response.

Taking a deep breath, Fleur plunged into the truth.

"I've been having dreams ever since my time in Ponyville. They've been growing both in frequency and in... intensity. Shortly before I came this eve, I... I, Ô Célestia, donnez-moi le courage, I fell asleep for but a few minutes, but in that time I… Well, I wrote it in my journal."

As Fleur spoke Luna's face grew from amused to long and grim, her eyes taking a dark cast like a moonless night.

"Dreams," Luna's voice was cold as the most bitter winter wind, "visit any unicorn but once in the year." Luna’s eyes briefly darted to Twilight before returning to Fleur. “It has been so since before the founding of Equestria. What you are experiencing may seem like dreams, but they cannot be."

Fleur bowed her head a little.

“I realize that, of course, your highness. Which is why I have brought you my journal.”

“A Dream Journal?” Twilight asked, clapping her hooves together. “I used to keep one myself. Can I read yours?”

Removing the journal from her saddle-bags, Fleur was a little surprised when her golden aura of magic was quickly overpowered by a magenta glow and the book sailed towards Twilight, stopping to hover in front of her muzzle. With book in-hoof, or magic rather, Twilight returned to her cushion. For several long minutes Twilight hummed to herself as she skimmed the entries, pages flipping quickly. She stayed on a few pages for some time, re-reading an entry or staring at a particular word or sentence. Fleur felt a slight blush touch her cheeks as her private thought were laid bare before two of the most important and influential ponies.

While Twilight read, Luna asked for the court to be cleared. A few ponies grumbled, having not yet had a chance to speak to Luna or Twilight, but most sensed that whatever was about to happen or be discussed was not for them. Most chatted about how Twilight had summoned the stars so effortlessly, their voices only fading once the doors closed, leaving Fleur alone with the princesses and their guards.

At last Twilight lifted the book up and almost shoved it under Luna’s nose.

“Look here, look what it says,” Twilight almost babbled, her words tumbling over themselves in her excitement as she shoved the journal into Luna’s face.

Eyes darting across the lines, Luna’s brows shot upwards into her mane.

“You don’t think…?” Twilight let the question drift away, her tone both hopeful and filled with doubt at the same time.

“Vega is the Vulturestar, once thought to guide the dead to Elysium. She’s always had an extraordinary gift at perceiving the desires of wayward souls.” Luna tapped the throne’s legrest, staring at Fleur with a look that made her squirm.

Leaning over, Luna whispered something to her seneschal. Quill bowed quickly to Luna before trotting out of the hall at a brisk pace. The diary floated back to Fleur in a blue-white aura while Luna and Twilight discussed whatever it was that had grabbed their attention in a low undertone that Fleur could not hear.

Eventually, the side door was opened. It took all Fleur’s experience not to betray her surprise as Cadence entered the room, Tyr beside her mother, a long yawn issuing from the filly.

“I hope this is important, mother, it’s Tyr’s bedtime.”

“This will only take a few moments.” Luna gave Cadence a placating smile. Turning to Tyr, she said, “Some new information has come to light about the night you arrived, dear.”

Looking between the ponies in the room, Tyr puffed out her chest. “I won’t betray anypony.”

“That’s not what we’re asking, at all.” Luna stepped down from her throne, trotting up to Tyr and kneeling down in front of the filly so they were eye level. “Lady Fleur de Lis may be in danger, and we want to help her. She’s come across some names, and we’d like your help to know more about them. You don’t have to tell us anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

“I… guess I can do that.” Tyr’s gaze flickered to Fleur then back to Luna.

Smiling brightly, Luna said, “Very good. Now, is there anything you can tell us about Demeter, Authea, or Lachesis?”

“Lachesis?” Tyr yelped, ears flattening. “She’s not here, is she?”

Wrapping a wing over Tyr, Cadence asked, “Is she a bad pony?”

“No… but she’s trouble. Big trouble.” Tyr trembled against her foster mother’s side. “Lachesis is the Goddess of Destiny, and one of the Fates. Nopony deals with the Fates. Well, except…” Tyr clamped her mouth shut, a guilty blush making her cheeks glow beneath her cream toned coat.

“Authea?” Luna supplied.

Jumping at the name like a snake had just darted in front of her, Tyr shook her head. She stopped after a few moments, and gave a resigned nod.

“Yeah. How do you know all this?” Tyr ducked her head down to peer at Fleur from between Cadence’s legs. “Is it because of her?” Slipping from beneath Cadence, Tyr marched up to Fleur.

A shiver ran up Fleur’s spine from the tip of her tail all the way to the base of her horn. It was as if she were being teased with a cube of ice, her skin trembling as it passed. Fleur’s ear twitched, a noise like the distant clattering of a dropped cutlery box soaking into her head. Confusion and a sense of displacement, like she were both present and not, followed. For a few moments, Fleur wondered if she were dreaming still, if everything that had happened that evening had been false.

“Tyr!” Cadence, Luna, and Twilight all shouted at the same time, all three princesses jumping towards the filly, their horns igniting with magic.

Fleur lifted a hoof, and she would have been shocked to see a thin film of glowing light surrounding her if not for the disembodied sensation. It wasn’t her that reached forward and brushed back Tyr’s mane, hooking the filly’s curls behind her ear.

“That is better,” Fleur said, though the voice was not her own. She wouldn’t have believed she’d spoken them if not for the resonance in her throat. “Mother always said to keep your eyes clear and forward, Tyr.”

“Athena?” Tyr’s voice trembled, the filly taking a step back and then disappearing behind Cadence and Luna as they interposed themselves. “Y-you possessed a mortal?”

“I did,” Fleur found herself saying, the reply accompanied by a wave of dizziness. “She will soon regain dominance.” Lifting her head into a regal arch, Fleur addressed Luna. “I am Athena, once Goddess of Wisdom, Daughter of Love and Courage, and now lost. I bear you and yours no ill will nor harm.”

Luna carried the slight hint of a frown at the corner of her lips.

“Is Fleur de Lis alright? What have you done to her?”

Tilting Fleur’s head, Athena said, “I did something terrible, and no, she is far from alright. You will attempt to find a way to help her, I am certain. I can see it in your eyes. Know this, only she can save herself. Showing myself in this manner is putting her at greater risk. I had to speak to you, however, to warn you. There is a plan for Twilight to go east, yes?”

“Yeah…” Twilight sidestepped around Luna and Cadence. “Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash and I were going to be leaving in a few days.”

“We, Fleur and I, must go with you, as well.”

Blinking at the declaration, Twilight was set onto the back of her hooves. “I’m not so sure that is a good idea. You are—”

“It is not up for debate,” Athena pressed. “The Fates and Authea have both said that we must follow you. Attempting to fight fate is never successful.”

“Okay, first of all, why the hay would we believe crazy ghost alicorns that possess ponies?” Twilight snapped, flaring her wings. “It doesn’t set a good starting point for trust, now does it?”

Wriggling past Luna and Cadence, Tyr jumped between them and Athena. Fleur found it so darling the way the filly tried to stand on the tips of her hooves to look bigger. A shudder worked its way through Fleur, the extreme sense of dislocation fading as Tyr attempted to berate Twilight.

“She’s my sister. I’ve known her for my entire life. Athena would never, ever commit the taboo of possession unless it was absolutely necessary.” The fire in Tyr’s voice died down a little as she turned around to find Fleur clearing the last lingering traces of Athena’s control.

“Fleur, are you alright?” Cadence and Twilight both asked at the same time.

An answer flitted on the tip of her tongue, but refused to be shaped. Unable to speak, all Fleur could do was shake her head. It took a few moments to find her voice, saying when she did, “I-I am… I do not know…”

“My sister! Let me speak to my sister again!” Tyr jumped at Fleur, beating her little hooves against Fleur’s shoulder.

Tyr yelped as she was enveloped in Cadence’s aura and pulled away from Fleur. Setting Tyr down, and giving the filly a warning glare, Cadence addressed Fleur.

“Why didn’t you come to us sooner?”

Sitting down so she could massage her head, Fleur let out a weary sigh. “It seemed so silly, worrying about dreams. But… I didn’t want to let them go either… There was such a feeling of strength. What are you going to do with me?”

Luna snorted. “Do? We will watch you, and try to help you, naturally. But what is happening to you… I must warn you, that the only time I’ve seen something similar, the methods used to save the pony in your position… they can’t be repeated.” Extending a conciliatory wing, Luna grew somber. “There is only one pony who could possibly help you, and she’s been gone a long, long time. Even then, I am uncertain that the results would be at all favourable or desired.”

A lump formed in Fleur’s throat at the finality and regret in Luna’s voice and in her touch. The words fell almost exactly as those of the doctor a few weeks earlier, striking deep and sending her reeling. The throne room spun, the faces of the princesses blurring together as Fleur understood the truth Luna hardly tried to dodge around: she was dying.

Her breaths became shorter as panic bloomed within Fleur. Twilight appeared at her side, lending Fleur support as she started to wobble.

Somepony began to give Fleur instructions, telling her to take deep breaths and repeat a short mantra. Fleur wasn’t fully aware of the words as she started to repeat them. Only after the fourth or fifth repetition did they start to sink in through the fog of panic.

“Thank you,” Fleur said, giving Twilight and Cadence a tired smile.

At some point, Tyr had slipped away from the group and taken Fleur’s journal. Leafing through the pages, she’d stopped on the most recent entry.

“You have to take her with you,” Tyr said, repeating the words louder when she was ignored. “I know you don’t trust her, but I do. If not for her and Artemis, I wouldn’t be here. I was captured and being taken to… to a very bad pony. The God of Slaughter and War. They rescued me when it…” Tyr took a deep, trembling breath. “Authea said, ‘only through their salvation will you find your own’! Fleur, or Athena, or possible both will help Twilight. I know it. Just as Athena helped me.”

Twilight looked from Cadence to Luna to Fleur. Fleur held her breath as Twilight considered, her lips moving silently as she went over details in her head.

“Okay, Fleur will come with us.”

“Twilight, no!” Cadence almost shouted, while Luna shook her head saying, “This is a terrible idea.”

A light laugh filled the throne room, Twilight shaking her head. “It’s a Prophecy. I’d thought I was done with them, but I guess I’m not.”

Dread bubbling at the base of her stomach, Fleur wasn’t sure how she was going to break the news to Fancy. At least she had a small measure of hope, and given the circumstances, Fleur knew that to be a minor victory in itself.

A picturesque town nestled in the northern Heartlands of Equestria, Bridleshire was everything a pony desiring to get away from the hustle and noise of the cities could hope to find. Built at the base of its namesake waterfalls, with simple cottages, thatched roofs, and flowerpots on the green painted window sills, everything about the town oozed rustic charm and peace. The ponies were friendly, the market quiet even on Saturday, and even the foals behaved themselves, with none of the screaming and scampering their kind was usual renowned for.

The only thing remotely unusual were the falls themselves. Sheets of dark sapphire with none of the white froth or mist. Local legend held that the town had been home to Smart Cookie, and it was she who had created the falls to stop some evil or other. The legends were predictably murky on the precise nature of the evil, or how she trapped it in the waterfall. Some claimed she turned the monster, a foul water spirit that lured ponies to the nearby lake that was the river’s source, into the river. Others stated it was a demon that she ensnared in a shadowy nether-realm that could only be reached through a door hidden behind the falls, visible only in direct moonlight, and since the falls were so dark, Selene’s light couldn’t illuminate the door.

Personally, Trixie thought it more likely that the tall trees simply hid the falls within their shadow most of the day and it was a mere optical illusion that made them appear so dark.

Not that she spared the falls much more than a passing thought.

After securing a permit from the town’s mayor/librarian/hotel-owner, Trixie set up her wagon next to the town’s square and was deep in preparations for a show. Looking around at the afternoon shoppers and the ponies watching her, curious about the wagon and the odd ponies that had come to town, Trixie decided that the usual humorous abuse act wouldn’t go over that well. The ponies looked more likely to break into tears and run away, and while that once had been her goal with the act, Trixie had discovered that she received far fewer bits by angering such a crowd. In the cities, where ponies were more likely to laugh at their neighbors misfortune the act was a big draw. Not so much in the Heartlands.

“So, what tricks are we going to play tonight?” Shyara asked around the rope she was pulling.

The filly wore a plain looking blue vest, one that hid her wings behind a relatively simple glamour. It was the only way Trixie would let her out of the wagon, especially when they were close to other ponies. Shyara didn’t particularly like the vest. It was not suitable attire for a goddess, and the enchantment made her wings itch. That or the wool. Shyara prefered to blame the enchantment.

“Trixie was thinking nothing too… quarrelsome. Perhaps the vanishing assistant trick, some conjurations, illusions, voice throwing. The usual.”

“Awww… that’s all the boring stuff,” Shyara protested, releasing the rope and causing the awning she’d been setting up to collapse. “Why don’t you ever do real magic?”

Huffing as she grabbed the rope and pulled it into place, Trixie affected a hurt air. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is the greatest wizard to cross Equestria since Clover the Clever. She doesn’t want to frighten the local ponies with displays of her true might.”

“Sure,” Shyara grumbled over crossed hooves. “Are you going to need me tonight, or can I poke around?”

Trixie hesitated, using the time to hammer the stake holding the rope down to think.

She didn’t see what harm there could be. The town was so quiet; even the squirrels looked bored, laying on branches with their eyes half lidded.

“Trixie sees no harm in letting you explore a little. Just be back in time to help clean up after the show. You’ll know it by—”

“The fireworks. I know. Thanks Trixie!’ Shyara shouted, already galloping away.

Shaking her head, Trixie went back to work, glad for the short reprieve.

Slowing to a trot once Trixie and the wagon were out of sight, Shyara turned towards the falls and the only tall building in the entire town. The stylised golden sun atop the building had caught her eye when they’d rolled into town. Shyara knew a temple when she saw one and resolved to get some answers about the local ruling goddesses.

Built on a small island just below the falls, the temple wasn’t much to look at up close, just a plain, rectangular building with smallish windows of stained glass. A low bridge crossed just above the fast flowing, but placid, river, a statue to a goddess standing to one side in the short gap between the island’s bank and the polished brown door into the temple.

Shyara paused at the statue, examining the alicorn. She didn’t look that different from many of the goddesses of Gaea. Her mane, painted a rust red, was loose, rather than braided or styled, and she wore a crown instead of a wreath, but otherwise Shyara wouldn’t have been able to tell the statue from those of most of her relatives. The pose was a bit odd, regal rather than commanding, with a more motherly air as she sat, tail curled to her side. Steel-grey eyes gazed down on Shyara, seeming to peer through her and sending a little shiver up her back.

Leaving the statue, Shyara entered the temple.

Unlike the exterior, the inside of the temple was far grander, with intricate carvings and frescoes etched into the wood pillars and lattice-work of the ceiling. Pews filled the first half of the temple. At the other end stood a lectern, with a sarcophagus behind it in an apse, and a large contraption to one side. Placed at the back of the apse was an altar covered in lit candles. Doors leading to, presumably, the priestesses office, were tucked into a nook between the pews and apse. The structure was far too small for the priestess to have a residence, unless it was underground. Given the river, Shyara doubted the temple even had a necropolis.

“Hello, little filly,” said a short unicorn that had to be a priestess from the robes she wore, emerging from her office.

Like the statue, her mane was red and coat white, and she wore the same motherly smile.

Shyara didn’t reply right away, it taking a moment for her to respond. “Uh, hello. I’m Shy Lulamoon, Trixie Lulamoon’s daughter. We just arrived in town today and I thought I would pay my respects to Celestia.” A short bow, like those given by supplicants to the temples to her real mother, followed, Shyara dipping so low her nose almost touched the floor.

“My, so polite. I am Solemn Hymn, and welcome to the Namegiver’s temple. What can I do for you?”

“I… am not sure.” Shyara frowned, drawing a blank on what to ask. She needed information, that much Shyara knew, but how to get it or what to ask without drawing suspicion eluded her. “What can you tell me about this place?”

“The temple or the town?” Solemn followed the question with a little, tittering giggle.

Both were discussed in great detail over the next few hours, Shyara following the priestess around as she went about her duties. Solemn was open, honest, and quick to answer and giggle. From her, Shyara learned a great deal of new information, particularly on Equestria’s pantheon of goddesses.

Initially, she was shocked that the statue was not of Celestia, but rather her mother, and it was this goddess who the priestess was truly dedicated to serving.

“Not that we don’t serve Celestia too, mind you, but the Arbiters are far closer to her than us. There’s been a lot of friction between the princess and the Sisterhood, stretching back to, gosh, the third century? Yes, that’s right… Though it’s not recorded what caused the divide.” Solemn instructed in that way particular to priestesses and teachers as she replaced the candles that had burnt to stubs. “Then there was all the kerfuffle when Luna returned. And don’t get me started on Cadence. Twilight, hopefully, will be a little friendlier, though there are… complications with her as well. But that’s far above my head and for the Revered Speakers to figure out.”

It was while she dusted the sarcophagus that Shyara grew bold enough to ask what she meant by ‘complications’.

“Oh, nothing at all.” Solemn took her time with the duster, brushing the stone with the gentlest of touches.

Letting the subject drop, Shyara asked about the sarcophagus instead. She’d never seen a pony, even the greatest of heroes, intombed in such a manner before. Necropolises with the tombs of heroes were popular locations for adventurers and the more nefarious sorts intent on plunder, drawn to the artifacts or lingering magics granted by the former heroes’ patron. This, naturally, lead to the goddesses and gods laying traps both magical and mechanical to keep the would-be looters away. Having a tomb just sitting out in the open was almost unthinkable.

“Isn’t it kind of morbid?” Shyara asked part-way through hearing of the deeds of Smart Cookie. Solemn had gotten as far as the founding of Equestria following the end of the Long Winter and Iridia’s defeat. “Having a pony’s body sitting in the middle of the temple like this?”

“A little, perhaps,” Solemn said, finishing her dusting and moving on to arranging the white cloth draped over the lectern.

“Why aren’t there any other tombs in here?” Shyara glanced around the room as if expecting to spot a sarcophagus that she’d missed when she entered.

Laughing, and her chores finished, Solemn went and got a glass of lemonade for them. “There are a few crypts in the cemetery just out of town. But Smart Cookie was special. An Earth pony and a wizard, trained in magic long since lost. She was the first of the Founders to pass away, sacrificing herself to protect this town. When she sealed the fiend, the Namegiver appeared, and it was she who created this little island, tomb, and placed Smart Cookie inside, proclaiming her a Saint for her many deeds.”

Standing on her hind legs to get a better view, wings trying to flap beneath her vest, Shyara propped herself against the carved stone side to get a better view of the lifelike figure on the lid. A little shock passed into her hoof, making Shyara yelp and take a step back. Her heart raced as she had a sudden feeling of being watched, like a great eye hovered overhead.

At the same moment a blue-green fizzcracker burst over the market.

“Oh no, I’m late!” Shyara yelped, dashing from the temple and away from the oppressive weight.

“There you are,” Trixie admonished when Shyara reached the wagon. “Dinner will be ready soon. You can help Trixie clean up.”

“I’m—” Shyara tried to open her wings, face scrunched up with defiance.

The cold look Trixie gave her made her stop. Dragging her tail, head low, Shyara joined Trixie in cleaning so the wagon could be changed back to a home through the ingenious sliding walls and floor. Little was said by either, Trixie spending the evening counting and re-counting the meagre amount of bits she’d recieved for the show.

Just before they curled up in bed, Trixie announced, “I think we’ll move on tomorrow. Vanhoover awaits, and this town is a little too sleepy. Reminds me too much of…” Trixie shuddered and reached around Shyra to hold the filly close.

Just before dawn, Trixie slipped into the wagon’s reins, and with Shyara still sleeping, they left town.

If they had stayed, they may have noticed the falls running clear, a hazy white mist obscuring the base and drifting over the temple, a group of the townsfolk gathering to stare and murmur in worry.

Shyara’s ear twitched as they started to roll down the simple country road, a sense of dread invading her troubled sleep.

Book One: Chapter Eleven: The Bellerophon

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book One: Awakening and Arrivals
Chapter Eleven: The Bellerophon

The afternoon train pulled into Ponyville with no pomp or fanfare beyond the shrill cry of a whistle. Gears clattered, the engine rolling to a languid stop, before the doors to the carriages were pulled open by the conductors, and a few ponies stepped onto the platform. The largest group were three of the Elements of Harmony, along with their sisters, and sisters’ friend.

“I tell you, Rarity, that was the worst trip yet,” Applejack groused, shaking tension out of her hind legs. “My teeth have been jittering like ladybugs ever since we left the Canterhorn.”

Putting on a sweet smile, Rarity cooed, “This isn’t because you had to leave a certain beau behind, is it?”

Applejack didn’t react beyond giving Rarity a playful grin. “Yeah, maybe a little.”

“Still not going to share his name?” An exaggerated pout, followed by batted lashes trailed the question.

“Nope. We like keeping it a secret just to torment you.”

Rarity found herself unable to come up with a suitable retort, too busy flagging down a courier service to deliver her luggage home while she walked with her friends. They parted at the market fountain, Applejack and Apple Bloom using the north road, while the others took the south, Fluttershy having promised Rainbow that she’d see Scootaloo home.

“What would you do if there was a pony you liked, but didn’t know how to approach him?” Fluttershy asked after Scootaloo had been safely delivered into her mothers’ waiting hooves.

“Well, darling, that depends.” Rarity giggled, imagining the pony Fluttershy was speaking about. Only a certain red coated stallion came to mind. Though, to be fair, almost all the available mares in town had their eyes on him.

Jumping as if she hadn’t noticed Rarity, Fluttershy gave a little squeak.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I was just thinking to myself. I’ll, um, talk to you later, Rarity.” Head low, Fluttershy darted down an alley.

Rarity made it to the count of three before Fluttershy sulked back out of the dead end. They shared an awkward moment, followed quickly by Fluttershy once again making her excuses and heading off. Rarity decided to leave Fluttershy alone. Her friend would either share when she was ready, or she wouldn’t. But Rarity had learned that there was no sense in prying. Not when it came to Fluttershy. The only possible result would be Fluttershy retreating further into herself. Their weekly spa day was when Fluttershy would open up, her courage bolstered by the familiar surroundings and scents, and Aloe’s expert hooves kneading out her tension.

Confident in the natural flow of events, Rarity turned down the wide lane to her shop. Only to stop after a few strides as she remembered she had to take Sweetie home.

Chiding herself for her mistake, one Sweetie had noticed from the knowing grin she wore, Rarity turned around and headed towards the lake their parents home sat beside. As usual, Magnum lounged on the short dock, a fishing rod laying beside him, head resting on crossed hooves as he dozed and contemplated the clouds.

“Had a good time?” he asked his daughters without looking up as they approached.

“Yeah, it was great!” Sweetie giggled, jumping onto Magnum’s back. “Scootaloo, Apple Bloom and I were on our extra best behavior, just like we promised. You wouldn’t even have known we were there! Not one calamity or ancient demonic force unleashed, daddy.”

Chuckling, Magnum gave Sweetie a quick nuzzle. “That’s my girl. You make a promise, you keep to it. Your mama will be proud when she gets home.”

Rarity lingered longer than normal, loath to leave Sweetie. She wasn’t certain from where the feelings came, only that her heart quickened every time she began to trot down the worn path, making her dart back for one last goodbye nuzzle. This went on for several minutes before Rarity finally, with the greatest of reluctance, left, having secured a promise from Magnum that she could look after Sweetie soon.

Her hooves were slow and sluggish as she made her way to her boutique. There she found her luggage already delivered, the depot porters displeased at having to wait so long for her. After paying a larger than usual tip, and getting the stallions to bring the heavier cases inside, Rarity headed into her composition room.

Covered in sketches of half-finished designs, with swatches of fabric covering almost every available surface, Rarity’s composition room wasn’t so much organised chaos, as just chaos. Normally, the bright patches of colour, the differing and clashing textures of the fabric, they all blended together to spark her inspiration. Especially when coupled with some coffee.

Looking around the room, all Rarity incurred was a headache.

The chaos had been growing for some months, and it was time for a return to order so the process could start anew. Humming to herself as she sorted and organised, lifting the entire contents of the room in a multicoloured tornado, Rarity fell into a simple pattern.

It wasn’t like she had much else to do.

There would be no surprise parties or other antics from Pinkie.

Rainbow wouldn’t come crashing through her window.

And Twilight wouldn’t be showing up needing help or advice on one of the myriad little social problems.

Putting the last basket of swatches away, the room as neat and orderly as if Twilight were coming for a visit, Rarity sank next to her desk, a sense of profound weariness striking her. It had been such a busy few weeks, with Twilight’s sudden need for a new dress, having to put off other orders—and now that she was home, the lost time made itself known with riotous force—worrying about her sister getting into trouble, and a hundred other things great and small. Looking in the vanity mirror set up next to her desk, there to help her envision her works—or so she claimed—Rarity was amazed she looked as radiant and sublime as she did. Not a hair out of place in her mane, her coat almost glowing in spite of the train ride and trotting across town.

Smiling, Rarity retrieved a small glass of wine and a little cheese and biscuits, then returned to her composition room. Taking a fresh sheet of stationery out of her desk, she settled herself with her wine; delightfully dry as it lingered on the tongue. Dipping a quill into fresh ink, she began to write.

‘Dear mother,

‘Well, I’ve had the most interesting few weeks. Before I get to the juicy details, I’ll start with the more humdrum affairs. You will be pleased to hear that Sweetie continues to do well in her studies at school. Her mathematics are, sadly, lacking, and I doubt she could tell Antares from Mintaka—even if Twilight weren’t allowing them to scamper so wildly, but I get ahead of myself. I saw her working on some poetry while we were in Canterlot the last few weeks, and while rough and unpolished, she does have some talent. I don’t believe it is her Special Talent, however. Poor dear is still searching, though Father isn’t that concerned.

‘He was well, when I dropped Sweetie off home. Little has changed since last I wrote. You’ll see for yourself soon enough. He did mention briefly about traveling to meet you when you arrive and asked if I would look after Sweetie for a few days. I of course said yes. How could I not?

‘Now, onto the reason Sweetie and I were in Canterlot;

‘Twilight Abigail Tuilerya, Her Divine Highness of the Taiga, and Goddess of the Stars.

‘My aura shakes just writing those words and I want to squeal in glee. I think I will. She’s why the stars have been acting so odd the last month, mother. Twilight is allowing them to dance. Dance! Have you ever heard of such a thing? And the way her mane sparkles now… It’s not quite like Princess Luna, but the stars are nestled both in the sky and in her mane and tail. Getting her presentation dress just right was a challenge, but of course your Rarity was up to it.

‘I have tried to broach the subject of the havoc the stars antics must be playing on navigation, but I could never find a moment to speak to her alone. Hopefully she’ll shortly realise, that while the dancing is dazzling and beautiful, it could have dangerous consequences. You see, even as I write this letter, she is on a train towards Baltimare where she will take passage aboard a ship destined for Zebrica and the port of Timbucktu.

‘She asked me to join her, and I confess I had to stop myself from crying out, “Of course!” on the spot. Instead, I tried to give her what advice I could. Still, a part of me wishes I was with her, but I can’t afford to lose half a year traveling, not at this crucial time.

‘Best wishes and I have a candle lit for you. Double check your charts, especially if you take the southern channels. I don’t like how you risk those rocky shoals just to cut a few days off the passage.

‘Signed with love, your daughter, Rarity.’

Dashing off her name with the customary swirls, Rarity stretched and took from her supply cabinet a very special candle. Black with orange lines, the candle was made from enchanted wax. Concentrating on her mother, she first lit the candle and then used it to burn the letter. The smoke curled into a tight ball, then flew out the open window, destined for the candle’s twin.

Ah, you betray them with such casual ease, snickered a voice in Rarity’s ear, making her almost fumble the candle.

“Shut up, you’re not real,” Rarity hissed before blowing the candle out. “You’re just the stress talking, and now I am home, and you will go away.”

Aww, poor dear little lamb, cooed the voice. Can’t accept that you’ve lost your mind?

“Quiet! Just be quiet.” Rarity clamped her hooves over her ears.

She waited some minutes to remove her hooves, giving the room a cautious sweep to make sure she was still alone.

Baltimare, one of Equestria’s oldest cities, had a charming character that could only be attained by aging gracefully. The city, famous for its houses and bakers as much as its port, was filled with the scent of bread mixing with those of tar, wood stoves, and the onshore ocean breeze. The red brick homes were tall and narrow, their blue-glass windows looking down on even narrower streets. The avenues weren’t much better, just wide enough for carriages to pass with room for pedestrians. Twilight and her friends, new and old, rode in one such carriage, a procession of guards leading the way.

Their carriage trundled slowly down the cobblestone road leading towards Baltimare’s harbour. Within the port, lined up in neat rows, sat the Equestrian Home Fleet at anchor or tied next to one of the wharves.

From the mighty Princess Celestia of twelve and one hundred guns to the Saint Juniper of a mere four and sixty, all the ships carried a grace and beauty lesser only to their ferocious might. The blue and white lines down their hulls were fresh and shining, the figureheads at the prow as finely painted as if tended to by the most precise of artisans. Each shone as a beacon of pride for both the nation, and their crews.

The two dozen ships-of-the-line were dwarfed in number by the merchant ships and smaller craft that darted about the harbour. With the Season looming, the docks were a flurry of activity, ponies scurrying about, loading stores into holds and readying for the long voyage to the far east. Once the Season had passed they would set sail, their final destinations among the spice islands of Inponesia or the porcelain and silk coast of Neighpon.

For these goods the Equestrians would trade silver, gold, copper, magic crystals, dried fruits, vegetables, and coal.

Along the south wharves sat a second merchant fleet. Loaded down with grain until they were on the verge of floundering, they were destined for Prance. From Baltimare they would sail through the turbulent Equestrian Sea to the isle of Saint Cookie where they’d fall in with the Prench High Seas fleet. Without the fleet’s protection, the convoy would be easy prey for the many pirates that inhabited the eastern Marelantic.

Pinkie’s face was plastered to the carriage’s window as it rolled past the merchant ships on its way to the naval wharf. There, a boat waited to take the carriage’s passengers to an old third-rate ship-of-the-line; the Bellerophon, named for the legendary pegasus hero who, according to myth, had brought the Namegiver to Marelantis where she was trained in the ancient, powerful magic of the lost city.

She had an elegant pride about her, lines sweeping with a fine flow leading up to her pegasus figurehead. Her name was painted in bright gold leaf beneath her wide, grand stern galley windows, and the brass nine-pounders on her fo’c’sle shone with a brilliance that could only be attained through considerable polishing. The rigging was exceedingly traditional, some would argue overly cautious, and very solid. Having been in the final stages of a refit, she carried new sails and cordage throughout, with a copper bottom that blazed when the sun slanted just so through the mid-morning clouds over the open bay. A touch slow, perhaps—especially compared to the newer vessels being produced in droves by the Old Queendoms, and then so callously hurled into battle to be sunk or battered—but a fine, weatherly sailer with a bluff bow that parted waves in great plumes of seaspray.

Her staterooms were large for a third-rate, with ample space for the officers and any guests or important passengers. The uppermost was in the process of being converted, dividing walls springing up to the sounds of furious hammers, with a large cot that swung on the slight roll in the bay. A mighty desk, donated by the town’s mayor on hearing whom it would serve, sat just before the galley windows, the bright mid-morning light coursing into the cabin to make the cherrywood shine.

Even with the end of their work in sight, her crew was far from at ease, the carpenter fretting over the walls dividing the stateroom from the cabins for the captain and guest, the placement of the desk, or a thousand other things.

As hardened and rough a group of mares could rarely be found within Equestria. Many had sailed together through several commissions, following their captain from ship to ship, avoiding the port authority through obscure methods and means known only to those who served on the lower decks, lest they be sent to a ship without their mates.

Equestria hadn’t known war in centuries, at least not at sea, and her navy was mostly a volunteer affair. Many of the ships within the port had barely a third of their full compliment. There simply wasn’t the need to have the ships ready to set sail at a moment’s notice. Whenever a ship needed to sail, the admiralty inevitably either had to perform the unwelcome task of shuffling crews, or unleashing the dreaded press gangs.

Impressment wasn’t the sordid affair in Equestria as it was in other nations, involving at most an officer going to one of the port-side taverns or watering holes to offer additional pay to any mare willing to sign on. There was no blackjacking and dragging of ponies aboard in the dead of night. Not in Equestria, at least. But the offer of an additional few bits pay to ponies drunk on spirits was hardly seen as being any better. Many were the wife or daughter that had woken, hung over, aboard a ship as it made ready to sail, names on the books and unable to leave for the remainder of the cruise, a period that could be months to years.

The Bellerophons were not such a crew, being entirely volunteers.

They had just finished filling their stores with casks of rum, lemons, beets, dried biscuits, and salt beef. Salt beef being a peculiar slushy gruel unique to the navy, known for its bitter taste and lumpiness if improperly cooked, and was the staple diet of the sailor, found nowhere else in Equestria. Concocted by a Hackney admiral centuries ago, its contents were a mystery known only to the Royal Equestrian Navy chefs in the factory where it was produced en-masse then stored in the enchanted casks to preserve what freshness the concoction retained.

There was a current of excitement, and resentment, throughout the ship. At the stroke of four bells in the morning watch, their captain had been replaced, shuffled off with an almost total lack of ceremony. While Captain Swell hadn’t been the most lenient of souls, she had been a known quantity. A firm hoof, a respectable navigator, but a touch cowardly and timid, too willing to let pirates—the Royal Equestrian Navy’s natural enemy—slip away without firing a single shot.

Only the knowledge that she’d been made Captain of the Marelantian Fleet, that is, Captain of the Blazing Beard, gave the crew any sense of justice. Along with her, Captain Swell naturally took her usual followers, including the officers beholden to her as well as her steward, doctor, and bargemares. All perfectly normal and natural, but it did create a tremor of unease in the old hooves.

Into the vacuum stepped an assortment of new officers, and before anypony could get the measure of the other, the ship was whipped into her present frenzy.

Windfall Hardy surveyed the ongoing work of setting the ship’s stores with a calm, experienced eye. On the whole, while his sharp, blue eyes had a calculating power, his face was open and happy. Only a good friend or long-time acquaintance would have perceived the worry pinching the corners of his lips, or the terseness in his jaw.

He was a stern figure as he moved about his new command, his blonde mane drawn in a tight plait, and his off-white coat sticking out in ruffles around his pristine uniform. Within the service, he was a minor legend, having served among the Marelantian Fleet for the past decade, and in that time capturing or sinking seven pirate vessels, and chasing or fighting a score more. While only sloops and a few xebecs, it was a far sight more than could be accredited to most within the Equestrian Navy, many of whom would go entire careers without ever firing a single shot in battle. The marks of his experience were clear in the scar that cut across his right brow like a bright pink line, and a bald patch on his left hock; both caused by the notorious Prench letter-of-marque, Sea Serpent, a powerful frigate that enjoyed preying on Hackney merchants.

Along with him came his own first lieutenant, surgeon, steward, coxswain and almost a quarter of the crew from his previous command; over a hundred assorted seamares that put the Bellerophon at her full compliment of fifty and five-hundred hooves. The difference between the old and new Bellerophons was evident to even the most blind and dumb observer. Those that had been with the ship for some time wearing blue vests and snowy white trousers, while those that came with the captain were in an odd assortment of colours and styles. Integrating the two groups would take time, patience, and a fair amount of gunpowder, her new captain was aware, but it was a task he was committed to seeing through.

“Look at him, thundering along, glaring like the princess herself were coming to visit,” grumbled one seamare as she hauled on a line to lower a pallet of provisions into the hold. “And old Swell’s bunk ain’t even cold yet, so it ain’t.”

“Shush, Winch, you want to get us in trouble?” hissed the mare beside the malcontent. “Can’t you see something special’s going on? Look at how the old master has put on her best breeches and hat. They stink of mothballs, she uses them so rarely.”

Before the first mare could reply, the ship’s bosun began blowing her whistle, roaring between shrill cries for the ship’s company to muster. Hardy was unconcerned by all the hooting and shrieking, the great stamp of hooves as everypony was brought up on deck until it looked like a bag of confetti had exploded there were so many coat colours. Unlike the guard or army, ponies within the navy didn’t dye their coats a uniform colour. This inevitably gave even the most grim and morose of ships a somewhat festive air with the bright colours common to pony-kind.

The marines, unlike the crewmares, did dye their coats, the soldiers a mass of white beneath their scarlet uniforms along the rails. Unlike the royal guard, the marines didn’t wear barding, instead they wore heavy cotton uniforms with a sabre at their side.

“All crew accounted for and present, if you please, Captain,” First Lieutenant Fighting Spirit said with grave dignity, to which Hardy simply nodded, his eye turned from the crew to the approaching boat.

A few of the crew, sneaking glances when they could, noticed the boat loaded with a group of passengers. They were surprised when, instead of going to the Bellerophon’s larboard side, the boat went to the starboard, coming to a halt at the bottom of her sea ladder.

Twilight breathed in the salty, mid-spring air, gazing up at the ship with wonder and satisfaction. Behind her, Pinkie, Rainbow and Fleur were in various states of joy or anxiety. Rainbow gave the ship a look of profound distrust, while Fleur sat in the dead center of the boat, her eyes fixed on the boards between her hooves with the complexion of a mare heading to the gallows.

Pinkie, ever her exuberant self, clambered up the side of the ship before the shrill cry of the bosun’s whistle had ended. The officers and crew all stared at her with open mouths as Pinkie hopped towards the nearest pony, and proceeded to shake her hooves, introducing herself in the process, before moving to the next in line. She would have gone to every pony present, if not for Twilight.

A chair had been swayed for Twilight, but she waved it off, preferring to climb onto the ship herself. Rarity had been adamant that if Twilight wanted to make a good first impression, the proper action would be to use the chair, but Twilight disliked the idea of being winched aboard like dead weight. Waiting for the swell to push the large cutter higher up the Bellerophon’s side, Twilight jumped, grabbed hold of a shroud, and with a push from her wings popped up onto the deck.

“Hats off!” cried the First Lieutenant, the ship’s company complying as one.

“Ain’t that the new princess?” a few of the crew whispered, earning scathing glares from their mates.

Stepping forward, Captain Hardy gave a short bow. Twilight was a little surprised to see a stallion captain. Stallions were rare in the navy, only serving as officers, and never as common sailors, with most relegated to the more protected or calm postings. Given the length and nature of the voyage, Twilight had assumed the captain and senior officers would have all been mares.

“Your Divine Highness, it is a pleasure,” Hardy said before introducing himself.

“For me as well. This is so… fascinating!” Twilight’s entire face shone as she looked about the intricate networks of ropes, pulleys, blocks and tackles. Behind her, first Rainbow and then Fleur were helped aboard, Fleur having to be pulled up in the chair. Twilight’s ‘guards’ then followed, three members of Alanotte’s herd—a daughter and two nieces—and three volunteers from the Royal Guard. Inspecting one of the swivel mounted deck guns, a little brass three-pounder, Twilight added, “I have a sister who's in the navy. She was recently promoted to lieutenant. And a cousin he…” Twilight’s voice trailed off as she turned to the officers and her eyes settled on a particular pony in freshly brushed uniform.

“Polished?” Twilight exclaimed, her cousin continuing to stare ahead, as still as a statue, professional air never wavering.

“You know each other?” Hardy followed Twilight’s gaze.

“Y-Yes…” Clearing her head with a short shake, Twilight motioned towards Pinkie, who was trying to get a response from one of the stone faced marines, and added, “I’m sorry about my friend. We tried to make her understand naval protocol and tradition, but…” Twilight’s voice trailed off, and she gave a helpless shrug.

“It’s alright, no harm was done.” Hardy gave the first of many low, rumbling laughs, turning to the ship’s company. “May I introduce my officers? My first lieutenant, Fighting Spirit; second, Poetic Verse; and third, Rolling Holler.” The officers touched their hats in turn as named, taking stiff bows, their expressions all firm and professional.

After greeting the Bellerophon’s sailing master, a stout earth mare by the name of Polished Sextant, her face red beneath a pale yellow coat, Twilight introduced the ponies with her, starting with her friends, and ending with the small cadre of guards; the half-dozen unicorns all wearing a dark plum uniform meant to compliment her own coat colour, and lead by Weathered Scabbard. Their presence still grated on Twilight’s nerves.

Twilight tensed when the introductions reached Polished Armour.

“It’s been a while, cousin,” Polished dipped his head. “I tried to speak with you and congratulate you at the gala, but you were busy. I spoke with cousin Shining, however, and his daughter.”

“Ah, yes, her,” Twilight laughed, the sound nervous and forced. “Tyr is… special. I’m sorry I missed you. Things have been so hectic lately.”

After all the rest of the officers were introduced, including the midshipmares and colt—a couple which couldn’t have had their marks for more than a few months at most, and one who was still a blank-flank—Hardy passed to Fighting Spirit their public orders.

Breaking the scroll’s seal, Fighting cleared her voice, and then read out in that particular roar native to military officers;

“By the Right Honourable Lady Lulamoon, Lady of the Stone, and Admiral of the White and Commander in Chief of Their Highnesses’ Ships and Vessels employed and to be employed off the Home Shores, etc.

“Whereas Captain Counter Swell of Their Highnesses’ Ship Bellerophon is removed to the Blazing Beard, Captain Running Wind retired, you are hereby required to proceed on board Bellerophon and take Charge and Command of her. You are further required to take as passenger Her Divine Highness Twilight Abigail Tuilerya, Princess of the Taiga, and convey Her with all dispatch and diligent haste to the points listed below without delay, deviating only as necessary, or for such causes as Her Divine Highness deems as necessary.

“Furthermore; Their Highnesses’ Ship Bellerophon is necessarily required to fly from her mainmast head the Royal Pennant of House Tuilerya. Her Divine Highness, Twilight Abigail Tuilerya, is to be accorded all Rights and Respects duly necessitated by her station, extended to those who travel as her guest or companion.”

Twilight visibly winced at every use of her ‘real’ name.

There was a pause after the orders had been read, a low murmur of confusion rippling through the crew.

“Wait, this ain’t an inspection?” said one mare just loud enough to be heard.

“We're transporting a princess, girls,” said another, Jill Place, her declaration, in that unfathomable way of the lower decks, carrying more weight than the Captain’s commission. There was a hooting cheer from the crew, a few going so far as to toss their hats into the air, that rang as far as the shore. It took several minutes for order to be restored, Twilight smiling in her nervous, uncertain way the entire time.

With almost reverent ceremony, the pennant, a long stream of cloth the same colour as Twilight’s coat and with the crest of House Tuilerya embroidered at the mast-end, was raised to the top of the mainmast. As the pennant uncurled in the gentle breeze a second round of jubilant cheering shook the ship.

“Miss Spirit, see to the princess’ friends and belongings, if you please,” Hardy said as he lead Twilight towards the cabin.

Inside the cabin, Hardy had his steward bring out a bottle of wine for him and Twilight. Chewing on her lip a little, uncertain what exactly she should say to the captain, Twilight accepted a glass, taking just a small sip to be polite. It was far too early in the day to drink, and Twilight didn’t care much for wine anyways.

“So…” Hardy stood by the window, unfazed by the stamping of hooves overhead, the shrill cries of the bosun’s whistle, and all the other general noises of raising and stowing the dunnage Twilight and her friends had brought. “I suppose it is best we get to know each other a little. I’ll be blunt, if I may.” Hardy waited for Twilight to nod consent for him to continue. “I’m not certain I am the right pick for a voyage of this nature, Ma’am. I am a fighting captain, and it is the deck of a frigate where I am most comfortable. I mean no ill disparagement towards the Bellerophon. She has a good, strong feeling about her. A fine ship, I am certain. But not a ship meant for me. I fear I have attracted the wrong kind of attention back at Sunhall, if I am honest.”

Hardy began to pace as he talked, tossing back his wine in almost a single gulp. Twilight cringed at the casual greed he showed towards the wine, and was also wondering if he was the right pick. Twilight couldn’t see herself cooped up for months with the captain for company. At least she had Pinkie and Rainbow, and to a lesser extent the mystery presented by Fleur and Athena. She’d also have her books, and the moments with Celestia and Luna during dawn and dusk.

“Then why did you accept?”

“‘Accept’? Ha-ha! I could not refuse.” Hardy gave his head a rueful shake. He was about to pour another glass of wine, but stopped, placing the bottle away instead.

There was a knock at the door, and before either could call ‘enter’ it was pushed open and the ship’s surgeon stepped into the stateroom.

“Well, come in, Timely. Don’t stand holding the door ajar,” Hardy almost snapped, his voice maintaining a slight pleasant uptick, like he’d said the same words many times before and they’d become a private joke.

“My apologies for intruding, Princess.” Timely made a slight bow to Twilight. “But I was curious, Windfall, if my specimen jars made it aboard.” Timely’s voice held a note of faint hope, his ears hanging somewhat doggedly about his head..

Hardy arched a brow.

“I would suspect they have been taken to your cabin, or barring that, the medicine chest, like on the Marelantis.”

Timely struck his brow, crying out, “Of course! How stupid of me. I should have checked there before bothering you. I should regardless if to make sure all the victuals ordered by my predecessor are properly stored. All this hurrying about and secrecy has left my wits scattered. Celestia! What if we don’t have any Foalsbane! That will create an unpleasant few weeks.”

“Foalsbane? Isn’t that a poison?” Twilight wrinkled her nose.

“Indeed. But a few drops put into the water takes the edge off certain desires and wants. We have over five hundred mares aboard, and only six stallions.”

It was Twilight’s turn to strike a hoof to her brow.

For a short time they discussed the upcoming Season, how the navy went about keeping everything in check and orderly, and from there they moved onto who would be berthed where.

“We have put together a suite of cabins just forward there, we passed through them on our way in. The carpenter and joiner are putting the final touches on them now. Your friends and the ambassador along the larboard side, while we shall be on the starboard. Naturally, we shall mess, that is to say, dine, separately, you with your friends, and I alone. Your guards will mess with the marines, Captain Scabbard in the ward room. Is that agreeable?”

Twilight had no objections, though she did ask after her books, only to have at that moment a group of seamares come in carrying one of her sealed chests.

After the doctor left to find his missing specimen jars, Fighting Spirit entered the cabin.

“Ma’am, Captain, if it would please you to step on deck, I believe the fleet is going to send us off.”

“Very good, Fighting.” Hardy lead the way out on deck, Twilight discovering it had undergone a transformation in the short while they’d been in the cabin.

The grating had been replaced and everything readied to bring in the anchors, bars shipped to the capstan and the lines and nippers set. Twilight couldn’t make heads nor tails of the operation as first one then the other anchor was run up to the bow. There was a great deal of yelling and shouting, a pony dancing on the capstan as she played a fiddle and created a steady rhythm while others heaved on the bars or ran about seemingly at random. Eventually the task was complete, just as the last lingering clouds above parted and a fresh breeze whistled across the beams.

There was no time to rest for the crew, orders being given at once, and, for the first time, Twilight watched in amazement as earth ponies swarmed up the lines into the masts and out onto the shrouds. One by one the sails were loosed, topgallants, topsails, and courses falling in rippling canvas waves. Their bellies filled by the stiffening breeze, carrying the Bellerophon out of the harbour. As she gathered her way, a cheering chorus sounded from the rest of the fleet, each ship firing an unloaded series of guns as the Bellerophon passed, crews at the rails waving their hats.

Twilight grinned as wide as Pinkie, her heart swelling, the cheering following her until the ship rounded the headlands, and she made her way towards the open sea.

The wails and howls of the dead rose from the black river, lifting into the putrid, fetid air like a fog. The noise was omnipresent, a constant single grind that wore away sanity, hope, and desire. Mortals that found their way to the river’s bank rarely survived long, a slight tingle of magic speaking of the haunting litany's true nature.

There was a second effect, a calling, a whispering undertone that tempted those who heard it closer to the river, to sup of its waters.

Those that did instantly and irreversibly lost themselves, their souls devoured by the Styx.

A pair of ash grey hooves landed with a sharp report on the sole dock. A dozen withered specters gazed up, their open mouths and empty eyes gaping at the newcomer. A few tried to shuffle towards him, drawn like moths to a flame by the energy of life flowing from him. The sharp crack of a whip and acid tongue made them return to their ordered lines. A second crack and they began the long journey towards a distant pale ivory wall, violet lightning highlighting twisted spires that towered above the barren landscape.

The newcomer hesitated a moment as summer-blue eyes looked sadly to the sprawling complex stretching across the length of the horizon.

“Brother, what have you been up to these last few thousand years?” he asked, his voice rich and rolling.

The newcomer stepped past lines of chained and shackled spirits, their jailers and masters not looking at the intruder as they went about their duty. It took nearly half a day, as the clock would reckon time, for him to cross the empty featureless plain that stretched between the river and the walls. It was slow, plodding work. Sweltering wind and rain assaulted him, the ground a thick, soupy morass that clung to his legs. A road did connect the dock and palace, but it was filled with endless throngs of the marching dead, grist for the palace’s mill.

At last he reached the walls and entered the city beyond.

An endless maze-like complex, the City of the Damned was continually shifting. Entire districts vanishing into the never ending night, taking with them millions of souls only to reappear a thousand leagues away and a hundred years later. Behind each door, one for every damned soul, sat a private torment, each tailored to the sins committed in life. But such was the nature of Tartarus that no soul had to enter their door. They could wander the city for eternity instead, never knowing peace or comfort, vacant eyes staring at the turbulent sky above.

The damned that refused their punishment were not the only souls that wandered the city. Many of those who had gone through their torment remained in the city, shining like silver beacons, proselytizing those who refused to look for or enter their door. The Converted they called themselves to anypony they came across.

For all its shifting nature, there was reason and thought behind the city, districts devoted to certain sins or races. If not for the omnipresent rain, it could have even been a happy city, juxtaposing form against purpose.

The damned were not alone in the city either. Spirits of every sort, from troops of playful kitsune to the dark forms of the reapers, could be seen. Oneiros, the small silvey birds that carried dreams, perched beneath eaves and on lampposts, waiting to take dreams of the departed to the living. Gargoyles watched from the rooftops, barbed spears held in their long, powerful talons. Occasionally they would leap into the bleak sky to fly to a new perch. With every flap of their leathery wings, the gargoyles shed scales of volcanic rock, the stones creating a harsh crackling din like hail in the background of the rain.

Even archons called the city home. Appearing as nothing more than darting balls of light, they roved in clusters, their purpose as hidden as their true forms. Whether they had been cast from Elysium for some crime, and would only be allowed to return when their task in Tartarus was complete, or they’d been sent as additional wardens, watching over the fathomless prison-pits beneath the city, no being but the archons knew. The greatest of their number within the city, Abaddon, had vanished within her crystal manor and not been seen in decades leading many to suspect that whatever their purpose, the archons would soon complete it and return to Elysium.

One of the Powers, Abaddon’s name was whispered in fear and trepidation in the back alleys. The Lord of Tartarus alone was shrouded in a greater aura of fear. Though, like Abaddon, he had not been seen in years.

All the city’s inhabitants made way for the newcomer, skittering out of his path and attempting to avoid his gaze.

He paid them little attention, focusing on the palace sitting atop a low hill at the city’s heart. It was not the greatest of palaces, and it would have been easy to overlook it elsewhere, being neither very large nor all that grand, if not for a trick of Tartarus making it visible no matter where one stood within the city. Crenulated pillars encircled the walls, with the gargoyles so numerous that nothing of the central dome could be seen through their tightly pressed bodies. The rain thickened the closer he went to the grimy white structure until he entered the courtyard where it ended all at once, like stepping through a curtain.

Crossing the courtyard, the newcomer approached the doors into the palace itself. Before them sat a pale-white alicorn. He was gaunt and sickly looking, his features sunken and his eyes two dull black orbs. Hanging limply about his face and neck like a cloak was a mane of wiry black hair. On the alicorn’s flank was a smiling black skull.

When he spoke, his voice was like the shifting of sand through an hourglass. “Zeus, what a... pleasure, to see you come visit our humble abode. Come to congratulate us for our victory over mother’s slayers?”

“I have come to speak with your father, Achlys,” Zeus replied, his voice thundering across the palace.

“Of course you have.” Achlys emitted a slow, wheezing laugh. “You will find him at the graves, mourning Hecate and Artemis.”

“Alicorn destroying alicorn…” Zeus snorted and narrowed his eyes. “It is fortunate for you I am in a lenient mood. Too many of our kind have been destroyed already.”

“Ha! Only you would presume to be able to destroy Death! Regardless, your wrath is misplaced. My role was slight and confined, merely occupying their attention while Ares and his cohorts did their bloody work.” Achlys slowly stood, a vicious glimmer in his otherwise cold eyes. “You may wish to speak with Niomedes. She was present when Hermes and the Muses were slaughtered." A black aura shrouded his horn as he turned and thrust the door open.

“I have already dealt their punishment,” Zeus said, cold and dispassionate.

Little more was said, Zeus following Achlys into the palace. Braziers, burning with the pallid green of spiritual essence, gave the halls the foreboding air of a funeral parlour. Their hooves echoed among the almost deserted halls, only the occasional servant floating past. No banners or tapestries hung from the walls, paintings didn’t show previous tenants; not that there had ever been any. Even the roof was plain, with no lattice work or carvings etched into the pearly stone. Other than the braziers the halls were completely featureless, devoid of life or creativity.

Both alicorns kept their silence as they passed libraries and grand bedrooms. These rooms, unlike the stark hallways, were filled with individual touches and flourishes. Zeus took in the open rooms as they passed.

The first, and largest, was filled with oil paintings of a soft evergreen toned mare. Her blue mane was pulled back into a tight, almost harsh, bun in most of the pictures, her sickly yellow eyes gleaming above a smirk. In each, her attire was different, some of the styles unfamiliar to Zeus. In the center, hung from thick chains, a bed that took up half the room . The dark plum coloured sheets had a thin layer of dust covering them, and a white dress had been left spread across the lower half.

The doors to the second and third rooms were both closed. From inside the later came the gentle morose tinkling of a wind-up music box.

Like the first bedroom, the door to the fourth was open. A lock on the door had been shattered, leaving a small hole where the doorknob had once been. Inside sat a room of simple earthy beauty. There was none of the extravagance of the first room, just simple brown tones and wood with carvings of forest scenes. Above an empty hearth sat a ruined painting. A knife or claw had torn and ripped the canvass, removing almost all trace of the subject. Only a few yellow and green tones could be seen on the dangling scraps. The small bed showed similar signs of mistreatment, the sheets tossed to one side and the mattress spreading its feathery guts across the floor.

Achlys stopped in front of the room for a few moments, his lips peeling back to reveal broken yellow teeth.

“I cannot believe she is gone,” Achlys growled, the moment passing and the pale alicorn continuing to lead his uncle.

“I never met Artemis. From what I have been told she was a decent mare.”

“She alone in this wretched realm understood me, pitied me. Father and Nyx coddled her, keeping her a prisoner.” The God of Death flicked his wings as he stared straight ahead. “Artemis knew my loneliness well, for she shared it. You describe her as decent, but, she was beyond that. She was pure and faultless. The shining light of hope in Tartarus, her mere existence brightened this bleak plane. It has not stopped raining since she was stolen from us.”

Achlys stopped before a small wrought-iron gate that led into an equally small garden. “This is as far as I go, Uncle. I’ll warn you this once, be careful around father, he is not the alicorn you banished here all those millennia ago.”

Left alone, Zeus waited until Achlys’ hoofsteps retreated into the palace before pushing the gate open. The grey alicorn stepped into an even greyer garden. There was no greenery or life in this place, just the withered and wretched stalks of flowers surrounding the bones of an apple tree. The air was heavy with the stench of rotting plants.

“So, the mighty Zeus has finally come to pay his brother a visit,” chuckled a sour and mirthless voice from behind the dead tree.

Trotting around the tree, Zeus laid eyes on his elder brother for the first time since he had banished him from Gaea.

Hades, Lord of Tartarus, God of the Dead, was a pale sickly shadow of his former glory. Where Zeus remembered a stallion filled with the pride and arrogance to challenge him for the crown to rule the alicorns, he now saw a being broken by grief. His obsidian coat was unkempt and filthy, covered with years of dirt and grime as it hung loosely on a frame as withered as the garden. Likewise, his once silvery-white mane and beard were masses of snarls and knots, clinging to Hades’ hollow face in oily clumps. A crack ran the length of his horn, running like a jagged canyon from the tip to the base. Zeus cringing at the sight of the wound. But it was his brother’s eyes that affected Zeus the most. Gone was the brilliant cunning and ambition that once shone like a beacon, able to find the strengths and flaws, the truths and lies of a soul, replaced by a hollow, vacant stare. Only Hades’ mark remained the same, the golden gate on his flank sitting before the ghostly outline of a pony.

Zeus craned his neck to get a look at the object from which Hades ice-blue eyes never wavered. A pair of mausoleums leand against the garden’s back wall. Etched into their soft stone were only a few words; ‘Hecate; Wife’ and ‘Artemis; Daughter’.

“You mourn for no reason, brother,” Zeus snorted as he sat down beside Hades.

The garden trembled as a sharp thunderous crack echoed throughout, spilling onto the empty wastes of Tartarus beyond the palace. Zeus hadn’t even seen Hades move or felt the build up of magic before the blow was struck and the King of the Alicorns was sent crashing into a wall.

“Do not presume to tell me whether my grief is in vain or not!” Hades howled, eyes bulging from his head. A bident hovered in his golden magic above Zeus. Green runes of sickly magic glowed along the haft as low tortured moans of the damned echoed from the weapon’s prongs. “I care not for your dominion nor your supposed and overly exaggerated wisdom. This is Tartarus, and here—”

True thunder rang across the desolate plains as Hades was hurled away and into the opposite wall. Laughing, Zeus cracked his neck as he stood. Across the small garden, Hades snarled and pulled himself up. Wafts of smoke and singed hair filled the air as the two elder alicorns glared at each other.

“I didn’t come all this way to fight with you, brother,” Zeus finally said, spreading his wings low in a gesture of peace. “I came to ask for your aid.”

“My aid? That is a laugh,” Hades snorted as he drove his bident into the ground. “What possible aid could you need from the lowly Lord of Tartarus?”

“I need to find my daughters, of course.”

For several seconds the two brothers stared at each other, then a thin smirk began to grow on Hades face. Zeus breathed a sigh of relief, lowering the magic filling his horn.

“Find your daughters, that is all?” Hades’ joints and bones snapped and popped as he slowly returned to his vigil before the graves. “What help do you need from me? They are not in Tartarus; I looked. When the Citadel of Light was consumed by tainted magic, I looked, wondering if any of them would be cast down to my home where I could exact my payment. Only a smattering of their mortal servants arrived, those from the kitchens, maids, gardeners or the like. Only the most sniveling and worthless came to Tartarus, as is the norm. Most went to Elysium. As for the alicorns, there was no sign.

“I cannot help you, brother.” Hades placed a hoof on Artemis’ grave. Tears welled in his eyes, but couldn’t be shed. Zeus looked on his brother with pity.

Glancing up to the clouds of eternal ash that hung above Tartarus, Zeus said, “I do not believe that those at the Citadel perished that night.”

“The mountain was sundered, ripped in half by the magic unleashed. Astraea destroyed herself out of spite, shattering her own body in a final act of bitter vengeance. Ares, Perses, and the rest of his cohorts were flung beyond the horizon by the force of the explosion. How could a bunch of wounded mares and un-awakened fillies survive?”

“You are not the first I have visited in search of answers. I went to the Fates, and the crones told me much of that night that was hidden to all but their eye. While the mountain was indeed broken, that was simply a cover to allow them to save their foals and possibly themselves.” Zeus began to pace as he spoke, his steps fast with agitation and suppressed hope. Hope… His beautiful niece, Authea, how he longed to see her again, hold her to his chest along with her half-sisters, his little Demeter and Clouthea. The old alicorn cracked a smile as he remember Authea’s infectious happiness and how she always seemed to know what do to brighten even the darkest hour. If anypony—other than a Fate—could have anticipated that terrible night and prevented the worst of the tragedies, it was Authea. “There is a chance that they are out there, still.”

“Out where, brother?”

“There,” Zeus swept his wings indicating the horizon of Tartarus.

“I told you already, they are not in Tartarus. If they were I would know it. It is impossible to step a hoof or flick a wing in this realm without my knowing.”

“No, not in Tartarus, but in a domain beyond.” Zeus’ smile cracked wider.

Hades turned his head from where Zeus paced and instead looked out across his realm. After contemplating everything he’d been told, he fixed a sharp glare on his brother. “You wish me to use The Gates, don’t you?”

“I do indeed.”

“And they say grief has driven me to madness... Clearly, I don’t have it the worst.” Hades shook his head as he stood, a grim disapproving pinch to his lips. Turning to leave the garden, he muttered, “You don’t know what you ask of me.”

“I ask you to help me find our missing fillies! I ask you to make amends for the imprisonment of Nyx and every hardship caused by your lust. I ask you to help me restore stability and harmony to Gaea. Damn it, brother, I beg you, help me.”

Zeus’ plea had the desired effect, halting Hades before the God of the Dead left the garden. Suppressing a grin of victory, Zeus knew he had to be extremely careful, more so than ever before in his ten thousand years of existence, for the next few moments. Wetting his lips, he waited for Hades to slowly turn to face his brother.

“You, Mighty Zeus, God of Storms, King of the Alicorns, you beg help from me and have the temerity to blame the war on my actions?” Hades pulled his face back into an enraged sneer. Zeus felt his heart quicken as his older brother approached. The next few moments sat on the edge of a knife, with failure lurking to cackle its mad laugh. “I brought her here because I wanted to keep her safe. I loved her, I still love her, I will always love her!”

Zeus almost let the smile of victory touch his lips as he said, “Then help me find her missing daughters! Help me find all our daughters. They are out there, somewhere, beyond one of those Gates.”

Hades slumped back in defeat, a weary sigh leaving his body. “The Fates told you this?”

Zeus nodded.

“And you don’t believe they are playing their games, clearly.”

Leaning against the small iron gate, Hades turned to consider Artemis’ grave, the grave he had constructed only a month ago. Zeus’ certainty was infectious. She was alive, his most precious filly was still alive. Standing straighter, his wings tucked tight to his side, not dragging in the dust and ash, Hades said, “Very well, I will take you to the Gates and see if we can re-unite our herds.”

Zeus finally allowed himself to smile again and slap a hoof on his brother’s withers.

Shooting him a sharp glare, Hades cautioned, “They may not be behind any of the Gates, and some of the worlds beyond make Tartarus look tame in comparison. This is almost certainly a fool’s errand.”

“Then it is good we're mighty fools indeed, brother!” Zeus let out a booming laugh.

He could taste the scent of victory on the parched Tartarian air and almost feel his hooves again able to wrap themselves around his eldest daughters. Then, maybe, he could finally figure out what exactly had caused his large and extensive family to feud so fiercely. Arguments and disputes weren't uncommon, and there had been fights, but never before had alicorn destroyed alicorn. Zeus had theories and ideas, a few clues as well, but no hard evidence or facts. He had to know exactly what had happened, and then he would punish those required.

“A pair of Gods out to reclaim what is ours,” Hades agreed with his sharper laugh. "Not even one of the Quus could stand in our way."

Singing

Zubu was singing.

It wasn’t the kind of singing of ponies, with upbeat melodies and chorus lines where an entire town would spontaneously start dancing. One of the most peculiar and odd sights Gilda had ever seen and never been able to understand. Though, curiously, this tendency seemed to only be found in the smaller villages.

No, this song was all harsh, grating squawks that wouldn’t have been out of place coming from a flock of roosters.

Perhaps worst of all, it was just the same line repeated over and over with minor variations in pitch and flow.

"He was big and strong, in his eyes a flaming glow!" Zubu cried, jumping onto his hind legs, his good foreleg stretched out and head thrown back. Gilda cringed in anticipation of the next line. “Most zebras looked at him with terror and with fear, but to village mares he was such a lovely dear,” Zubu warbled as he returned to puttering around his hut.

The shaman had been singing the same verse continually for the past day and a half. If Gilda hadn't still been so weak from her injuries she would have knocked Zubu upside the head before winging it towards the plains, Great White Apes or no Great White Apes. That she could barely shuffle around the hut made the idea of trying to overpower the fast and crazy zebra preposterous, to her shame.

"Do you have to sing?"

"You don't like?" Zubu asked, an amused smirk making his yellow teeth glint in the firelight. Putting on an affectation of false hurt, he added, "I thought everyone from the western continent just loved to sing and dance."

"Do I look like some lame featherbrained pony?" Gilda grunted, turning away from Zubu.

"No, no, no, you look like a cat-bird with a clipped wing, stuck here in the jungle with the Wise and Wonderful Zubu! Yes, that is what you look like indeed!" His smile grew wider, and then he broke out laughing, turning to speak to a potted plant above Gilda’s cot. “Yes, yes, Orenda, so right. Zubu’s voice is wonderful, yes!”

Shaking her head at the mad zebra, Gilda shuffled out of the hut and into the streams of light filtering down through the jungle canopy. She never would have admitted it, but she kind of liked the place. There was a coziness coupled with a sense of danger and excitement. A blend of the comfortable and the unknown. It didn't hurt that prey was plenty and the zebra's garden was overflowing with tasty breadfruit, rhubarb, and sweet-root.

If only her room-mate weren’t a few loaves short a full bread basket.

Stretching out her aching legs and wings, Gilda felt a pinch in her side that was quickly becoming familiar. Grumbling to herself rubbing the sore muscles, she began to pace in a circle as she continued through the warm-up routines taught in Flight Camp. After a few circuits around the hut, Gilda found her paws taking her into the jungle.

She didn’t know where she was going, not even sure what direction she was headed without being able to see Sol, the entire jungle seeming to glow in the day, or be the pitchest of blacks at night. Her instincts told her she was heading north-ish.

Her eyes fixed ahead, a helpless rage bubbling at the back of her head, Gilda had a need for action, for doing something. She was finished sitting around Zubu’s hut. There was a griffon out there who had taken everything from her; Talona, her cousin, her pride and hope. Gilda let out a feral growl as the image of the general gazing down on her with such grim dispassion invaded her mind.

After a short while, a half-hour, maybe longer, Gilda found her courage start to falter. She was pretty certain that she’d seen that tree that looked like a crooked ‘S’ at least twice already. Just to be certain, Gilda dragged a talon along the tree’s trunk leaving a nice sized mark. Ten minutes later when she found herself staring at the slash again Gilda knew for certain that she was lost and going in circles.

Letting out a long howl, Gilda slumped down next to the tree.

“What is cat-bird doing out here?” asked Zubu, his voice close to Gilda’s ear making her jump almost into the tree’s branches.

“You been following me? Crazy zebra,” Gilda growled as she smoothed her feathers.

“Following? Oh no, Zubu has no interest in following cat-birds. Been watching from his hammock.” With his staff, Zubu pulled aside an especially large fern to reveal his hut not six yards away.

Blinking, her thoughts grinding to a sudden halt, Gilda could only stare.

“I’ve been wandering around the hut? For an hour?”

“Mmm, closer to two, Zubu thinks.” Glancing to his left, Zubu gave a short cackle. “Orenda agrees, closer to two.”

“How?” Gilda tried to ask more, but the word got lodged in her throat. She had been so certain that she’d been at least a mile or two from the hut.

“Hut protected. Keeps bad things out, or in.” Zubu snorted as he turned and limped away, returning to his hut.

He began to mutter and growl to himself, or the kettle, Gilda was never too sure, his voice filtering through the beaded door. "Silly cat-bird is going to get herself, or worse, us killed. Too young. Too angry. So much anger. Reminds his old heart and head of Zimi." Zubu paused as if he was listening to a response. Gilda rolled her eyes as the crazy zebra started talking again. "No, no, no, that is too much to ask, too much, silly fox. Did you not just hear me? 'Teach her' you say! Was also told to rescue the lost pony goddess, and look at how that turned out. Those cat-birds would have made Zubu Soup if they knew the Compact did not protect him, and then where would you be?. Lucky he was, yes, lucky. Mend her bones. Sew her flesh. But teach her? No. Too much. Far, far too much."

Silence flowed from the hut following the shaman's short rant, the only noise coming from the bugs and birds that filtered through the jungle. Gilda frowned at the beads serving as a door, wondering just what some lame, crippled zebra could teach her. Once she worked all the stiffness and aches out of her system with exercise and a full diet she'd be up in the air again, and then she'd be unstoppable. She’d fly out of the jungle, and no lame barrier would stop her.

"Fine! You have made your point, Orenda. Zubu will teach her. One last apprentice before death takes him."

Zubu's voice was defeated and constrained as it tumbled past Gilda's ear. A couple moments later she heard his odd shuffle-hop gait before he stepped out of his hut. His good eye roamed over Gilda, making her feel like a chick again in front of the teachers at Flight Camp.

Approaching his hammock, Zubu asked, "Tell me, cat-bird, what do you know of magic?"

"’Magic'?" Gilda scoffed, inspecting the built up dirt beneath one of her talons. "Only unicorns use magic. Those prissy dorks in their manors and castles with their stupid parlour tricks. I never bothered with them. They were all so boring and lame."

"Ancestors preserve us," Zubu muttered to himself, before adding as he turned away from the hammock, "Wrong! All races have magic. Zebra and Water-backs. Bird-Pony and Ground-Pony. Others too. All the races have magic. All of them. Unicorns just flashy with their spells and supposed mastery. Pah, they've lost so much because they only concern themselves with magic connected to their Marks. Great musicians and artists they may be, but true magic-users? No, slowly they vanish and soon they be no more."

Zubu rolled his head and snorted as he limped into his hut only to return a moment later with his staff.

"You use magic to fly, cat-bird. Or did you think those pretty wings alone were responsible?"

"Well, yeah, I heard all about that in Flight Camp." Gilda smirked, crossing her forelegs and drumming her talons.

"Oh, good!" Zubu laughed. "Then why you say only Unicorn has magic?"

"Well..."

Before she could find an excuse, Zubu cut her off with a sweeping gesture. "No, Zubu really doesn't care for your reasons."

In the dirt in front of Gilda, Zubu began to draw and etch symbols and equations, diagrams and pictures. She couldn't understand any of it. After a few seconds, her eyes began to glaze over as Zubu muttered to himself while he worked.

Gilda flashed back to the classrooms of Flight Camp. She and Dash spent their time either skipping those lame and boring classes, or goofing off in the back rows. They were fliers and doers. Naturals in the sky that didn't need any of the stupid math and equations the teachers tried to teach.

She couldn't believe that the insane old zebra was actually going to try to teach her magic. She didn't want to learn about magic. Spells and studying were for egg-heads and Gilda had no need for them.

"Listen, you fixing me up and giving me a place to stay has been great and all, but I don't need some silly spells. What use would I have for being able to float light stuff in fuzzy pink auras when I have these bad-girls?" Gilda showed her claws and slid her wings open with a wide grin.

She waited for Zubu to realise his error, but the old zebra just cocked a brow and frowned.

"Oh, yes, your talons are sharp and you are fast, cat-bird," he waved his maimed leg in an airy motion.

"Gilda," she responded in a flat tone, tired of not being called by her name.

"Your name is cat-bird until you are no-longer cat-bird, yes? Good." Zubu hardly paused before sitting back, a wide grin of his own on his face. Suspecting he was up to something, Gilda narrowed her eyes. "So, you think you no need magic."

Gilda nodded, opening her beak for a retort, when Zubu rolled his staff down from his shoulder. A green glob of goo shot from it with a soft 'fwump' and fizzle. Like prey hearing the cry of a pouncing griffon, Gilda only started to dodge when the glob caught her and sent her spinning backward into a tree. Blinking, she found her left wing and legs stuck to the tree and holding her just high enough that only the toes of her back-right paw could touch the ground.

"Felb's Sticky Blob," Zubu laughed, falling backwards into the dust and dirt to roll around as he clutched his side. "Good for trapping mouthy know-it-all cat-birds, it is."

Struggling against the substance sticking her to the tree, Gilda let out a sharp screech.

"Let me down, or I'll—"

"You'll do nothing but sit and listen," Zubu snapped, his grin dropping into a vicious frown. "Magic flows through every living thing, through the ground and sky, through the seas and rivers, and from the stars, sun, and moon. Magic be everywhere!"

With the butt of his staff, Zubu pointed at the first diagram he had drawn.

"This be the runes for a simple counter to the Sticky Blob," Zubu stated, pausing at the flat glare Gilda fired back at him. "You can read it, yes? No? No, you can't." Grumbling to himself, Zubu returned to his hammock and rolled up into its swinging knotted cords. For almost a half hour he swung back and forth, muttering to himself as he observed Gilda grunt and curse against the spell. At last he pronounced, "First lesson is cat-bird getting out of spell."

"I've been trying," Gilda snarled back, heaving again until her entire body moaned in silent protest and she relented with a gasping wheeze.

"You try with muscle. Use magic. Any decent apprentice could get out of that spell in ten seconds flat. Everything you need you have."

Gilda reeled back as if she'd been slapped. She stared at the crazy zebra, her beak hanging open. Twisting her stare into a glare, she snarled at the zebra before turning to her wings. Gilda had known that magic was involved in flying, every youngling learned that lesson. For all the good that did her.

For an hour she strained, cursed, screamed, and issued threats. Zubu sat through them, relaxing in his hammock or drawing and writing in the dirt.

"This going to be harder than Zubu thought," he muttered to a chipped tea pot sitting above the fire-pit in the hut. To Gilda he shouted, "You do magic all wrong, cat-bird. It doesn't come from muscle, it comes from heart and head."

Gilda was about to issue a particularly loathsome curse when she was struck on the head by the zebra's staff. Groaning and rubbing what was going to a lump, she growled, "What was that for?"

"There needs to be a reason?" Zubu laughed, before pointing his good hoof up at Gilda. "Now, calm yourself, cat-bird. Steady your heart and your head. Picture—"

Shooting Zubu a foul glare, Gilda snarled, “I know how to picture magic. ‘A river that flows through the air and into your wings.’ Blah, blah mystic mumbo-jumbo.”

She knew antagonizing Zubu wasn’t her smartest idea. Gilda seethed, clamping her eyes tight as she attempted to remember her old flying instructors lessons from Flight Camp. It would have been easy, if not for the sharp whap and burst of pain that accompanied Zubu striking her with his staff.

“Don’t interrupt!” Zubu managed to both frown and grin at the same time. He didn’t say anything else, just looked at her expectantly, much like her flight instructor had after a very similar conversation.

Huffing, Gilda concentrated, searching for the tingle of magic in her wings. Flight was so normal, as simple as walking, and with as little thought. Her wings moved, the magic twisted, and she was airborne. She found her magic easily enough, the usually ignored sensations in her wings a little unsettling. Gilda fought down a slight tremor, nodding to Zubu.

"Good, now, holding onto the energy of your wings, the rump-thump-thump of your heart, take the magic and bend it, make it look like rune. Picture it as a root, with the second rune as the trunk, and last one as the branches."

“How in Celestia’s mane am I supposed to picture a rune as a root or trunk at the same time?” Gilda snapped, her hold on her magic faltering.

“It is simple enough, for those with the talent.” Zubu smirked as his words dug deep.

Feeling utterly ridiculous, Gilda did as she was told. She slowed her breath like she would just before a dive and felt the little tremors of energy that flowed through her wings, down her back to the tip of her tail, and through her legs and talons. She pictured each feather, how they felt as they swam and thrust through the air, the currents of power they touched to hold her aloft.

Above her the wind whispered through the tree, ruffling the emerald leaves and sending little ripples through the yellow lines of magic snaking and zigzagging through the bark. With the image of the runes at the front of her mind, Gilda thrust her magic into them, growling as the runes responded with something close to glee. It was silly, runes couldn’t be happy, and the idea almost caused her to lose focus. Scrambling to maintain control, GIlda directed the energy towards the tree to which she’d been bound.

She felt and heard a slight popping, like the cork of a bottle being opened, and tumbled to the ground. Panting a little, she flicked her free wing and tested her legs, the muscles and joints groaning.

"Good, good! You may have some small talent after-all, cat-bird," Zubu nodded, a lopsided, amused grin on his face as he shuffled into his hut. "Now, let's have some dinner. Then we start second lesson."

Gilda limped after Zubu, a little smile of pride at having bested his spell making her carry her head a little higher, and her heart beat a little faster.

Stretching from Vanhoover south-east across the breadth of Equestria's northern border stood a foreboding and almost impassible range of mountains. To the Equestrians they were known as the Crystalspines, so named for their jagged ice capped peaks. Tenochdeerlan had called them the Cecuiztli Tepopoloani Tepetl; Ice Death Mountains. While the buffalo named them the Tkineeha Dzil.

The great sentinels prevented travel by land, while the rocky, perpetually wind-swept shores kept all but the most foolhardy from anchoring and attempting to penetrate the Taiga by sea.

Only a single, narrow pass a days journey from Vanhoover connected the two lands. Winding through the mountains, the pass was snowy even in summer, a swift river running her length with towering falls on the Equestrian side, and a dangerous switch-back cliff on the other. A narrow bridge, rickety and rotten with age and poor maintenance crossed the river at the top of the falls.

Overlooking the northern end of the pass, at the end of the rocky and over-grown road, sat the ancestral fort of the Blizzard Singer legion. One of the earliest pegasus constructions in Equestria, made at the behest of General Hurricane following the unification of ponykind, the fort was part cloud shoved into a nook between two peaks, and half a network of cold, chilly tunnels that wound deep into the mountains heart. From the fort, the Blizzard Singers had stood vigil and excused themselves of the petty politics and agendas of their kin in the cloud citadels nestled so far to the south and east.

The isolation suited the remaining Blizzard Singers. Many of their younger members had left the fort, most returning after anywhere from a few months to years. Very few stayed away forever. It was these traveling young mares that Equestria was treated to the unique voices and songs of the Blizzard Singers.

Imperial Pegasi, the Blizzard Singers carried strong magic within their veins, magic that gave them some of the purest coloratura soprano voices on the disc. While their ancestors had used their voices to summon winter storms, giving the legion its name, the most common use for their gift for hundreds of years had been in opera houses.

Very few Blizzard Singers remained, the line diminished to a single herd, a dozen ponies living in a fort built to house hundreds.

Not that the impending end of their line worried the legion’s Commander.

All things end.

Still, there was hope. It played not far from her hooves in the form of three fillies.

“Go on, you three,” the old matron said, sitting wrapped in a warm blanket, stones taken from the hearth placed next to her aching body.

In her prime the old matron had been a sight, tall and proud, with broad wings that had been as beautiful as Celestia’s. Now, she was bent and slow, her wings decrepit skeletal things that frightened the foals, having long since lost the last of her feathers. She kept one tied around her neck, the core pure white, flowing to a soft baby blue along the edges. All her granddaughters had her colouration, to the old matron’s delight.

“And tell your mother to come see me, you hear?” she added as the three ran past, each stopping only long enough to give her a kiss on the cheek and say, “Yessem, Grangran.”

Alone, the old matron pulled out her singular vice; a long pipe. Lighting it with a fire ruby, the gem almost as old and faded as her, she leaned back, letting out a stream of smoke from her nose like she were a dragon.

Several minutes passed in silence, only a slight wind whistling between the mountains for company, when something odd caught the old matron’s pale eye.

There, to the north, something moved within the trees, just beyond the bramble walls that served as the boundary between what was Equestria, and what was not. She squinted, peering hard at the spot, but saw nothing more. Shaking her head, she returned to her pipe.

“Must be going senile,” she huffed. “Nothings moved in or out of that forest since…”

Another shake of the head, this one to clear distant, terrible memories. She hadn’t been the Blizzard Singer’s Commander and matron when they’d arrived, a group of Canterlot unicorns on an expedition to find the Halla.

Bunch of book bound fools. But fools that had brought with them a foal, a filly nearing the age of finding her mark. They had entered the accursed forest, despite all the her warnings and pleading. It had been a couple weeks later that they turned up, their mangled and half-eaten bodies deposited in the night at the lower doors into the fort.

The unicorns’ bodies had been returned to their families, those with families, and the years had rolled on with no further activity or sign of the Halla. Among those who hadn’t been returned was the filly. The old matron had for a time wondered if perhaps she’d been rescued and raised among the noble savages of the north. In time the hope had seccumbed to practicality. If the Halla had cared enough to raise the filly, they would have prevented the massacre of her herd.

The old matron didn’t like to think of that failure.

She’d just started to turn to shout for her daughter when somepony emerged from the forest.

The Halla—nothing else civilised lived in the north—stood under the open sky looking up at the pass for a full minute before starting forward again.

“Celestia’s mane…” the old matron whispered, leaning forward in her chair, mouth hanging open in wonder and shock.

More and more halla stepped from the forest. Behind the one that had come first was a banner bearer, the crimson banner waving forlornly in the wind sweeping down the mountains.

“Mother, Aria said you…”

The matron’s daughter, Breezy Guide, stopped next to her mother, spotting the growing line of halla.

“What? But… This… What?” Her words tumbled out, mouth flapping up and down as her mind refused to process what it was seeing.

Hundreds of halla had left the forest. Already their leaders had reached the narrow path up the pass.

“Breezy, in my desk is a box with our legion's crest on it. Inside you’ll find three scrolls with coloured ribbons. Take the yellow one and fly it to the garrison in Stratovale.”

Mutely nodding, Breezy dashed back into the fort, re-emerging only a few minutes later wearing a set of saddlebags. She kissed her mother, and set off, her large wings gliding with ease down the pass. As Breezy vanished, the old matron made out the notes of a song, slow and sad, one of mourning and loss.

Across, across. Winter dells,

And o’er- valley- forge-,

Away, away, we must fly,

To save our sickly kin.

From land of Sun she came,

A fawn white and pure,

The wolf of ice at her throat,

Saved by brother bears.

‘neath the Raven wings she grew,

Broken by family lost,

Alone, alone. A herd of one,

Until she found the Stars.

Wolves taught her to grow,

Bears to fight and stand,

Raven spell deadly and true,

To serve her herd, and lands

‘neath the moon did love dwell,

Purpose and hope grew,

Natured in her heart of gold,

Birthed in hidden vale.

Sick and weak, Her-love-would-not-last,

Three and three they would be,

Away, away we must fly

To save the White Hind.

Beneath the forest she did descend,

To face the dead in their den,

The Crystal of Lust,

She found for the ally of sin.

On the wings of Rocs she flew,

To the Tree of Life,

There to confront,

And to betray.

The Friend slain.

The Archon called.

The Fiend lain low.

The Queen in Stone.

Her daughter saved,

By her sacrifice.

Across, across. Winter dells,

And o’er valley forge,

Away, away, we must fly,

To save our sickly kin.

Author's Note

Credit for the song goes to OBXSuperindustries, who took the disjointed mess I put together and made it at least a hundred times better.

Book One: Chapter Twelve: Troubled Waters

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book One: Awakening and Arrivals
Chapter Twelve: Troubled Waters

Fleur had just stepped on deck for the first time since leaving Baltimare, intent on speaking with Twilight, when Ophelia Navigator fell overboard.

During the initial period, the captain was continually shifting sails. Jibs and staysails flashed in and out, topsails one moment, then taken in the next. A seemingly endless series of alterations and corrections to be made while the captain discovered the Bellerophon’s ways, what sails she liked to carry, and what seas she preferred. She was a slow, temperamental beast, requiring a firm hoof at the wheel, but at least she was dry and sturdy, crushing the waves as much as gliding over them.

For six days it went on, Twilight and her friends staying below. They should have been talking, playing games, and trying to relax, but Twilight’s friends proved to be little company.

Pinkie Pie refused to stay confined to their cabins and before they’d rounded the cape she’d practically become part of the crew. The warrant officers had grown so used to her bright pink coat being mixed in with the foremast jacks that the bo’sun thought nothing of starting her—striking her across the flank with a knotted cord to get her to hurry—when one of the many shifts in sails was called. With a yelp she’d darted up the mast as nimbly as any of the foremast jacks, and it was only afterwards that the bo’sun’s mistake became apparent, much to the displeasure of everypony involved, except for Pinkie herself. She took the incident with her usual good cheer.

The captain had been particularly furious, dressing the bo’sun down in the cabin with a voice that had been heard from one end of the ship to another.

It had taken hours of effort on Twilight and the captain’s part to explain how dangerous Pinkie’s antics were, not only to herself, but the crew as well. She was a passenger and existed within a protected bubble outside the normal order of the ship. Twilight wasn’t certain the talk had sunk in, but at least Pinkie wasn’t climbing up the masts and would only jump in to haul on a rope like the landsmares.

Instead, she tended to hang from the lines near the bowsprit, often over the rushing sea, a hoof wrapped around a stay. Wearing an eyepatch and hat with the skull and bones of a pirate, her laughter could be heard from one end of the ship to the other most of the day, along with her repeated cries of, “Best adventure yet!”

For Rainbow it was seasickness.

Of all the pegasus tribes, only Terns regularly traveled the oceans. This wasn’t that the other tribes hated water—though many did—rather, the wild currents of magic flowing from the sea played havoc with their senses. Moody and miserable, all Rainbow could manage was a little bread and water.

“Put me out of my misery now,” Rainbow groaned continually. “This is cruel, letting me linger like this.”

Her face was a pale greenish hue rather than its usual blue as she clung to a bucket. Every few moments she’d dry heave, her wretched moans filling the cabin. Looking up with red rimmed eyes at Twilight, Rainbow moaned, “I am never, ever doing this again. Next bit of land we find, you can put me on it and I’ll fly my way home.”

“Dash, that’s not what you really want, is it?” Twilight asked, only to be answered by her friend's continued retching.

Unlike Rainbow, Fleur wasn’t sea-sick; she was petrified. Fleur, it turned out, suffered from thalassophobia: fear of the sea. At every little creak and groan the ship gave, or each time the thunderous din of running hooves sounded, Fleur would jump, eyes darting wildly, face paler than her white coat.

She refused to go near the great windows, to say nothing of going on deck, and had confined herself to her cabin for the most part, only venturing out to join Twilight and her friends for dinner.

Solday found the ship leaving the straits of St. Jasmine and out into the open Marelantic. There could not have been a greater shift in states. The Bellerophon settled, the wind backed onto her larboard quarter, and she began to sail with an almost graceful ease in the wide rollers. Even Sol herself came out, the clouds parting to allow swaths of shimmering sunlight to play across a crystal blue ocean.

The crew took this as a good omen, as Solday meant divisions and the ship being rigged for temple. Most ships chose not to have a Sister aboard, as it was seen as bad luck, and there was no creature alive more superstitious than a sailor, but the act of prayers on Solday was a tradition old as time, and only a bad blow or battle could prevent the crew and officers from forming their neat lines. At the drum sounding Celestia’s Dance, the marines snapped to attention and the seamares all gave the captain their most attentive stares. Twilight, Pinkie, and Rainbow stood behind the officers on the poop deck, with Fleur remaining in her cabin.

Following a few prayers—one each for Celestia, Luna, and Cadence, with two for the Namegiver—Hardy read the Articles of Employment that detailed the laws of the sea. As the last rumbling of, “And all other offenses not capital, committed by a pony or ponies in the fleet, which is not mentioned in this act or for which no punishment is directed, shall be punished in accordance with such cases as by the laws and customs of the sea,” crossed the solemn company, Hardy turned to Twilight and asked, “Is there anything you wish to add, Your Divine Highness?”

He made sure to stress the ‘divine’ of her title, making his reason for asking a passenger to speak clear to all present.

Clearing her throat, Twilight took the captain’s place behind the barrels that had been lashed together with a broad, embroidered cloth thrown over to create a lectern. Velvet had raised Twilight in the traditional manner, which for nobility meant learning the Books of Names and Sol, in addition to attending the priestesses noon sermons. It had been years since Twilight had gone to a sermon, Celestia’s history with the Sisterhood being complicated and distant during Twilight’s time in Canterlot, and Ponyville had no temple or priestess.

She gazed over the collection of happy faces watching her with open anticipation. They all wore their best vest and sennit hats, the ship’s name embroidered into the hat’s ribbons, and coloured streamers in the edges of the vests.

Buying more time to come up with a plan, Twilight cleared her throat again. Striking on an idea, she summoned the Book of Spring and laid the ancient tome before her.

“I’d like to read a passage from my… from Iridia’s book, the Book of Spring. I finished translating it last night, and it seems… Well, I’ll just read it.”

The passage was rather unremarkable, detailing the early travels of a very young Iridia who’d just uncovered her Mark, and how she found her sister in the eastern wilds. Twilight fell naturally into her lecturing tone, her words carrying clear to even the furthest seamare at the bow. It was a short passage, and it had an immediate effect, the crew and officers pleased.

Afterwards, the captain went on an inspection of the ship, while Twilight retired to the stern rail to read.

Ophelia and a few of the other youngsters were skylarking, sitting up on the fore topgallant arm to watch the entire spread of the ocean before the ship, an almost endless plane of blue water that stretched off until it merged with the bluer sky so very far away. With the roll of the ship they would hover over the water, swing above the deck, and then be over water once more. It was at such a point that the ship gave a sudden jitter and Ophelia slipped. She hung there for a moment, eyes wide, hooves stretching out for the running lines, and then she fell. It was a miracle that she missed the lower arms to splash amid the cool water.

At once came the cry of, “Mare overboard!” followed by the rumble of rushing hooves.

Ophelia bobbed to the surface, gasping, only to be swept back down by the water racing along the ship’s side.

Rolling Holler had the deck at the time, the third lieutenant racing to the rail along with two dozen crew.

“A barrel, throw her a barrel. Anything that floats,” she shouted after a moment of inaction, the stout Seaweed sisters already hefting the almost empty water cask that had been sitting next to the mainmast.

They’d just raised it, ready to toss it over the side, when a second cry came from further aft, followed by, “The princess! The princess!”

Only a few lengths above the water, Twilight struck at the air with her uncertain wings, reciting her flying lessons as she struggled to gain altitude. Her hoofs skimmed through the top of a tall wave, and she was certain the she was about to tumble into the water herself. With frantic beats, Twilight gained a hooflength, then two of height, narrowly missing the next wave. Safe from plunging into the chilly waters, Twilight cast her gaze outward for the little midshipmare.

She couldn’t see Ophelia anywhere.

“Horseapples,” Twilight cursed, beating her wings hard to gain more altitude.

A cry for help grabbed Twilight’s ear, but, by the time she’d managed to swing around, her turn slow and sloppy, Ophelia was gone again.

The Bellerophon sat not far off, ponies swarming over her and her captain’s thundering voice just audible over the lap of the waves. Twilight could feel a dozen telescopes trained on her, Sol’s light glinting off their glass eyes. Putting the ship out of her mind, Twilight began to zigzag back and forth, desperate for a sign of the filly. Focusing on the task at hoof was second nature to Twilight, especially in a crisis. She had more than enough practice, with all the calamities that seemed to befall Ponyville.

Two minutes turned into three, and still there was no sign of Ophelia. Twilight couldn’t even hear the filly crying for help anymore, nor tell which way the current was running. Letting out a frustrated groan, Twilight turned to her sleeping stars.

“Polaris, I need your help,” Twilight barked, not taking her eyes off the ocean.

The star didn’t answer.

“Polaris, wake up!” Twilight sent a sharp jab along the thread connecting her to the Lodestar.

Mistress? What is it? Polaris asked with a long yawn.

Glancing up to confirm the star was awake and hadn’t just rolled over and gone back to sleep, as Spike tended to do when he was trying to sleep in, Twilight was comforted to see the flickering star a little to the north.

“I need you, and a few of the girls, to help me look for a drowning filly,” Twilight explained in a rush.

She didn’t wait for a response before reaching up and grabbing a cluster of stars. They shot from her mane with cries of surprise and worry, most bobbing around her like ponies that had too much of Applejack’s hard cider.

Mistress, this is highly unusual! Polaris protested even as she settled atop Twilight’s head, just behind her horn. Okay, sisters, you heard the Mistress. There is a filly lost somewhere nearby. We need to find her fast before Sol notices we’re up.

Please, honey, Sol’s so busy with—

Not now, Brachium, we need to—

The filly is over there, just below the surface and close to death, Vega pointed with a spear of her light.

Twilight was on the move at once, following the Vulturestar across the bluish water. Settling above the indicated spot, Twilight scooped up the ocean with a telekinetic net. Water draining in misting cascades revealed Ophelia and several fish in the net’s bottom. Discarding the fish, Twilight brought the still form of the filly closer. Snapping her wings shut, Twilight teleported back to the Bellerophon’s deck.

Several ponies cried out as she and Ophelia appeared next to the mizzenmast, a field of stars gathering overhead. Before she could call for the doctor, Twilight found herself being jostled below, a cacophony of noise overcoming the ship. She briefly saw Timely tending to Ophelia, and then Twilight was in the cabin. Her head slightly spinning from the speed of her transport from the deck to a cushion on a locker in the great cabin, Twilight found somepony had managed to throw a blanket over her withers.

“I’m fine,” Twilight protested moments before Rainbow appeared at her side and playfully thumped her over the back of the head.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that stunt you just pulled was?” Rainbow demanded, though the happiness in her eyes coupled the fact she didn’t have her head in a bucket from sea sickness reduced the sting of her jab.

Rolling her eyes, Twilight pushed Rainbow away, and instead asked the nearest member of the Bellerophon’s crew about Ophelia.

“The kid will be alright,” Barrel Scraper huffed as she brought in a tray of sandwiches and coffee. “Doc will pump her dry and have her on her hooves before the marrow, be marking me words on it, Princess.”

While not as confident in the doctor as the captain’s steward, Twilight found little opportunity to discover Ophelia’s condition for herself. With Rainbow outside the cabin, first Captain Hardy then Weathered Scabbard took turns chewing Twilight out as politely and deferentially as possible. She had to hold back a laugh as one then the other marched into the great cabin, fire and thunder on their brow, only to halt and their anger melt away as they noticed the ceiling was covered with a swath of the night, hundreds of stars nestled in among the beams, twinkling with gentle light as they dozed.

“Well…” Hardy said, craning his neck around to look at each star after he’d finished his short condemnation of her actions. “My, there is Arcturas, if I am not mistaken. Great star for navigators, seafarers, and farmers. I’d hoped to use her tonight to fix our position, the weather finally being clear. She heralds storms, you know…” His voice trailed off, and with a cough he excused himself.

Weathered was far more aggressive. After getting over her initial shock at seeing the stars overhead, she harangued Twilight for the better part of an hour, repeating her points over and over as she paced while Twilight sat behind the rosewood desk, ears laid back and glaring at the, temporary, captain of her personal guard. Spent to the point of panting, sweat prickling her brow, Weathered departed, saying to herself, “She can pull the stars from the sky with a thought… What use is a guard to an alicorn?”

Polished Armour entered the cabin as Weathered left, her cousin rolling his eyes as he settled on a cushion in front of Twilight, offering her a bottle of Sweet Apple Acres cider and two cups.

“Where… How?” She verged on stuttering, pointing at the bottle.

Sweet Apple Cider was all but unheard of outside Ponyville, very few bottles surviving long enough to leave the valley. Those that did were found in Manehatten in the possession of the Oranges, Applejack sending a few bottles to her aunt and uncle. Twilight had tried in the past to find a bottle, only to give up after checking every shop in Ponyville, Canterlot, and the surrounding towns.

“Trade secret,” Polished gave Twilight a sly grin as he uncorked the bottle, filling two cups with the precious beverage.

“So,” he began, pushing a cup to Twilight while she gaped at the golden drink, “You just couldn’t stop yourself from being the heroine, could you?”

“What?” Twilight snapped her head up at the accusation. “Listen, I’ve just been chewed out by Hardy and Weathered, I don’t…”

Polished held up a hoof to halt Twilight, his eye twinkling with mischief in a way that reminded her of Shining. “Hey, I’m not here for excuses or to listen to an irate, pampered princess who just has to be the center of attention and damn anypony else.” Twilight was more than a little taken aback by the bite in Polished’s tone. “I’m here to remind you to watch yourself and that you’re not the hero anymore. You don’t see Celestia or Luna dashing after every missing foal. And, Tartarus, if Cadence concerned herself with every filly with a cracked hoof she’d have no time to herself.” Polished gave Twilight a sour grin.

“That is not…” Twilight took a deep breath to compose and compress her anger before it could run away from her. “What I mean, is that I couldn’t let her drown. She’s just a filly. She shouldn’t even be here and—”

“So, you know better than a thousand years of tradition? A tradition that you yourself participated in?” Polished arched a brow as he refilled his already empty cup.

At a loss as to his meaning, Twilight growled, “Excuse me? I am not following your logic, if there is any.”

He snorted, recorking the cider bottle. “I am speaking of the tradition of apprenticeship, of course. A tradition that we both benefited from, as well as thousands of other ponies at this very moment. Why, there are no less than, let me think, seven? No, eight. Yes, eight, apprentices aboard this ship. I keep forgetting about the doctor’s loblolly filly.”

“That’s only seven,” Twilight pointed out with a smug grin. “Six midshipmares and the doctor’s apprentice.”

Polished gave her a smug grin of his own, like she’d overlooked an obvious, critical fact.

“Why,” he cried, “There is you, of course! Celestia’s apprentice. You never took the graduation tests, as I recall. I’m certain if you had, and passed, Aunt Velvet would have sent letters about House Sparkle’s latest triumph to even the most distant relative.”

A gruff chuckle pressing his eyes into thin lines, Polished made his way to the door while Twilight’s cheeks burned bright, her stars giving agitated flickers. “I’m just joking with you, cousin.” He gave her a wink, pulled the door open, and walked right into Rainbow.

She gave him a look that could make paint blister and grass burn. Polished merely pushed past her with a flick of his tail, the door snapping shut at his heels.

Seeing Twilight’s expression, Rainbow thrust a wing towards the door. “Want me to sort him out for you, Twi?”

“N-No, that’s okay, Dash.” Twilight put on a flimsy smile, one that showed the turmoil flickering through her heart. “I just forget, sometimes, that family isn’t always kind to each other like they should be.”

“He’s a jerk,” Rainbow snorted, glaring at the door as if she could burn a hole through it and singe Polished. “Ignore him, Twi. He’s not worth a pony’s time.”

Taking Rainbow’s advice to heart, and with the captains gone, Twilight shrugged off the blanket. Twilight’s sisters weren’t always the most pleasant mares, especially Pennant, and she’d endured worse encounters before. Once, it had been so bad that Twilight had almost challenged Pennant to a duel just to work out some of her frustrations. But Twilight had no taste for dueling, and then Velvet had stepped in and punished all the ponies involved. Dismissing Polished from her thoughts, Twilight was halfway to the medical bay in the orlop when she encountered Fleur, the ambassador coming up from below.

“You saved her life, Princess,” Fleur congratulated before continuing up to her cabin.

Ophelia lay in a hammock when Twilight arrived, a seamare from her division sitting at her side while Timely moved about checking on his other patients.

“Princess Twilight!” Ophelia exclaimed, attempting to push herself from the hammock, only to be stopped by the seamare’s strong hooves. “I’m sorry for the fuss I caused every pony, especially for you. I’m forever in your debt.”

Twilight soon discovered that forever being in her debt meant Ophelia became something of a second shadow. Whenever Ophelia wasn’t on duty the filly followed and waited on Twilight. Her cherubic face shone with delight, especially when that night she discover her mark, a sextant in bronze with three small stars above.

“It’s impossible, utterly impossible to fix our position,” Ophelia sighed, looking up at the night with all the stars once more in their homes.

“Is something wrong?” Twilight asked, looking over to Ophelia. The Book of Spring sat before Twilight, resting on a silk cushion provided by the captain’s steward. She’d been reading by Rukbat, the Writerstar nestled just behind her horn like a bird and covering the deck in a cool, pinkish glow.

Flicking a hoof up to the night, Ophelia exclaimed, “Yes, Your Highness, there is. I’d hoped to fix our position for my private logbook before turning in, but, as you are aware, the stars dance now from dusk till dawn, and are utterly useless for navigation. Why, there goes Arcturus now, zipping around like the ships cat after she fell into the rum. And, at least Sirius is back. I think…”

“She is?” Twilight twisted around, and picked out Sirius among the stars at once. The star hung, with a sullen, dogged light, quietly ignoring Twilight while her sisters spun above the disc.

Twilight contemplated the dance, a wonderful, spinning movement like gears in some celestial clock, and Sirius’ return for some moments, basking in their glow.

“Is it bad I let them dance?”

Ophelia’s face went pale beneath her chalk white coat. “What? Oh, I didn’t mean it like that! And I am not questioning your right to let them have some fun. If it weren’t for them I’d be travelling the Styx rather than the ocean. No, no, I just… I wish they would settle for a while. Merely long enough for me to fix our position.”

“Well, I could go up and have a look for you?” Twilight understood the foolishness of the offer even before it was fully formed.

“No, no, wouldn’t dream of it, and it would never do, besides.” Ophelia shook his head. “And what of all the other ships out there? Are they to wander blind, many of them near deadly reefs or shoals? Oh, Twilight, I didn’t mean it like that! I’m so sorry, Your Highness, ma’am.”

It wasn’t the first time anypony had said her name as an oath, but it was said with such absolute faith that it struck Twilight with all the force of a falling anvil. Twilight’s head certainly was ringing as loudly from the experience, all her senses suddenly attuned and focused towards Ophelia. She could feel the filly’s yearning and hope, her fears and sadness for the other, hypothetical ships across the disc.

In the same instant, all the stars ceased their dancing. For a few seconds they hovered there, as if they’d been caught with their noses inside a giant, astral cookie jar, before streaking across the night back to their ancient homes.

“Oh, you didn’t…” Ophelia shook her head, lifting her sextant while thanking Twilight over and over.

Smiling, Twilight made to return to her place in the Book of Spring—she’d just reached the verses on the destruction of Marelantis and Bellerophon himself—when a silvery flash caught her attention.

“It’s okay,” Twilight’s smile turned mischievous. “Anything to help a filly get her mark.”

“What?” Ophelia lowered her sextant, it taking a moment for Twilight’s meaning to be pierced. Gasping, she glanced at her flanks and the still glowing mark adorning them, a squeal of pure delight ripping across the ship. Twilight focused on enjoying Ophelia’s delight at having uncovered her Special Talent.

Naturally, the next day Pinkie hosted a Cutecerina for Ophelia in the great cabin. With Barel Scraper’s help, Pinkie put together several batches of cupcakes—enough for the entire ship’s crew—along with a giant pudding made in the shape of Ophelia’s mark. It was a happy gathering, and one that saw the ship enter days and days of wonderful, brisk sailing.

Across the valley from Canterlot, nestled half-way up Mount Sapphire, sat the old fortress of Moonstone Castle. Once, it had been home to the Order of the Sword. Unicorn knights, the Order of the Sword had served the Republic of Equestria, hunting monsters, protecting the commoners, and in general, inspiring a thousand years worth of romance novels. With the transformation from republic to a monarchy following the Age of Chaos, the Order had become the basis for the unicorn portion of the Royal Guards.

Little changed, as far as Moonstone Castle was concerned, when the Order merged into the Royal guards. While a portion of the knights broke off to serve as the basis for the new formed Judicator Guard, protecting the Arbiters as they travelled the land, dispensing Celestia’s judgement and law, most transitioned into their roles as guards for the immortal goddesses. Truth was, even before Discord’s arrival, most of the knights simply sat around drinking, telling stories of heroic deeds, and performing at jousting competitions.

Now, Moonstone Castle served as the training grounds for the recruits. Few were truly untrained, the Royal Guard taking it’s pick of candidates from the Army and Marines. Others were the scions of the noble Houses, like Shining Armour. Even they weren’t untrained, it still a common practice for the nobles’ sons and daughters to be tutored in magic and martial skills.

Both Celestia and Luna took time to periodically visit the castle.

For Celestia it was often a welcome break from dealing with Canterlot’s politics and the bickering of the Houses. She would smile, and watch as the recruits and guards present went through their drills. Once in a while she’d comment or step in to offer a tip. Very rarely would she pick up one of the training swords and join in the exercises.

Luna, on the other hoof, loved getting involved.

After her return, Luna had been out of place and time, her ways and thoughts centered on a period of war and strife. Even before the War of the Sun and Moon, Luna had been more involved in martial aspects.

Celestia was a statesmare.

Luna was a knight.

Every Monday she flew across the valley, revelling in the fresh wind on her face and under her wings, to the castle. Once there she sparred with any brave enough to face her. For the past few weeks, since Twilight had accepted Alonette’s herd as the beginning of her Guard, Luna had been sparing with the Elesian unicorns, gaining a sense of their skill and honour.

Across a large ring from Luna stood Alonette’s youngest daughter, Teacă. Barely fifteen years old, with all the brash confidence youth imparted, the dark coated young mare stared at Luna. At her side she levitated a practice longsword, holding the sword by the grip, leaving the guard and blade free.

At her side, Luna held her ancient blade, Tamashi. A Long Odachi, given to Luna during her travels across the disc after her awakening. The blade was longer than Luna, able to slash her from nose to dock in a single swing. It was like midnight had been poured into a mold and then tempered, seeming to suck in the ambient light. The guard was a slender gold ring, providing little protection for the black and white banded grip, or the tiger head pommel, small emeralds used for the eyes glinting in the early morning light.

Low whispers filled the room, the guards around the edges watching taking bets and laying odds.

“Luna in two strokes, without moving,” an older recruit said, passing one of the instructors a couple bits.

“Betting on these fights… seems a little pointless,” grumbled one of the newer recruits. Still, he slid a few coins to the instructor. “Luna, in one, by disarming.”

Shouting, Teacă charged, bringing her sword up then down in a vicious, sloppy cut. Face impassive, Luna blocked, rolled Tamashi, and with a flick, sent the practice sword spiralling out a window, Tamashi’s edge coming to a rest at Teacă’s throat.

Coins shifted, a few guards groaning as they trotted away, purses a little lighter. Eyes wide, Teacă glanced out the window, down to Tamashi, and then to Luna. She said nothing, just stepped back, bowed, and went to her brothers and sisters, all having suffered similar treatment at Luna’s blade that morning.

Silently, Luna approved.

She’d made their losses as hard and humiliating as possible, seeing if she could provoke a reaction. Their stoic acceptance had yet to crack, and a few had the makings of quality swordmares or stallions. Overall, Luna was edging towards being pleased with them.

Slipping into zbori, the language of Luna’s own Nightguards, she approached the group of elesians.

“You have much to learn, it seems.” A few of the elesians frowned. “That is good. You have less to forget. If you still wish to serve my cousin, do not expect your time here to be easy nor forgiving. At the end…” Luna’s voice drifted off as a familiar sensation crawled up her back and into her wings.

She wasn’t surprised when the tall doors into the training hall were opened enough for Iridia to enter, her travel cloak pulled over her head. The queen looked over the hall, with its racks of training weapons, decorative suits of armour, and high windows stretching up to the rosewood ceiling.

“Iridia,” Luna’s tail snapped from side to side, “what are you doing here?”

“Celestia is off with Cadence, so, I came to chat with you.” Iridia wore a wide grin, her eyes flicking towards the elesians. “And to see these ponies that will be the first of my daughter’s guard.”

Flicking a dismissive wing, Luna huffed, “I don’t have time to chat.” After a pause, she added, “What is Celestia doing with Cadence?”

“I can not say. Cadence popped into Canterlot late last eve and they were both gone by the morn. Nothing serious, I suspect, or they would have informed you, surely.” Iridia shrugged while Luna looked away so as to not show her pain and uncertainty.

“Yes, I am certain that is true,” Luna commented with little conviction.

“Well, let’s not worry about them.” Iridia put on a forced smile. “How about a practice duel? Like in the old days? When you and the Valla would charge across the night, hunting demons and the foul things that thought they were safe beneath Selene’s light. Like when we were a family. Would that be acceptable?”

Luna slowly closed her eyes, memories of a time long lost welling upwards. Her heart beat fast, a tremor in her wings as she turned to face her aunt.

She could see it so clearly, Spring Manor nestled high in the Marenese mountains of Trotalonia. The red tile roof, so unusual to the normally thatched roofs of the time, sticking out of the old pines. A waterfall fed pond sitting in the middle of a garden rich with flowers, fruits, and vegetables taken from across the disc. Stained Glass windows depicting the great events of the manor’s mistress, from the defeat of Witiko and the windigoes to the arrival of Celestia, Luna, and Namyra. Countless hours had been spent beneath the gaze of those windows in that garden talking, laughing, training.

Those had been happy days.

“I think I should like that, actually,” Luna said, surprised at the words as they came.

Her own face going from pleasant surprise to undisguised joy, Iridia removed her cloak, draping it over the back of a weapon stand. Taking the the arena floor, she stretched out her wings and legs.

The usual bets began to take place, coins flowing back and forth. There was a hungry gleam in all the ponies present, many stretching forward or trying to find better vantage points.

“Practice weapons, or our own?” Iridia asked, the sugary sweetness of the question putting Luna on edge.

“Do you even still have a weapon, Iridia? Or should I see if there is something appropriate in the armoury for you?”

With a flicker from her horn, Iridia summoned a broadsword, jewels and gold blazing in the crosspiece and hilt, a fiery red diamond the size of a foal’s hoof glowing with a hungry determination in the pommel. Where blade met hilt sat the crest of House Tuilerya, the sword’s name etched into the blade’s length.

“Gram?” Luna lifted a brow. “I thought she was destroyed.”

“Only twice, now,” Iridia chuckled, giving the sword, first forged in the days of lost Marelantis, a few practice thrusts and swings. “I repaired her. I meant her to be a gift for Twilight, but…”

“Twilight dislikes swords,” Luna concluded. “May I?”

Iridia hesitated for a moment before passing Gram to Luna. The sword was heavier than Luna remembered, the blade a good two inches longer. Likewise, the diamond was new, the previous pummel having been a heavy block etched with powerful glyphs. On closer inspection, Luna noted that it wasn’t a diamond at all, but rather a crystal, resonating with a faint magic of it’s own. A magic that tickled at Luna’s memory, but she couldn’t place from where she knew it.

“It’s the Lust Stone,” Iridia commented. “Drained of all but a memory of it’s magic. I used it to remind me why I fight, and why I reforged the sword.”

“Drained?” Luna whispered, gingerly touching the once diabolical artefact with her hoof. She sensed… nothing but a trace of the gem’s once legendary lust for power. “How did this happen?” Luna asked as she passed Gram back to Iridia.

The queen shrugged her wings, moving to her spot in the arena.

“Velvet Sparkle. She had an interesting time in the Taiga.”

Scoffing, Luna went to her spot, bringing Tamashi into a middle guard. Studying her aunt’s face, wings, and stance, Luna wondered how much Iridia had changed. The queen had favoured directness and bold action in the old days.

Shouting, Luna opened with a quick thrust, Gram tapping Tamashi aside then darting forward in a shallow counter. Her entire being sung as she twisted Tamashi around and drove back onto the offensive. Luna felt at peace as she maneuvered, existing only within the confines of the duel. All the troubles of Canterlot, of Cadence, Twilight, and the shades fell away, subsumed by the need for immediate action.

The blades spun and sparked between Luna and Iridia in a flurry of feints, counters, and driving blows. Twice, Luna left holes in her defence, attempting to entice Iridia into a reckless move, each time the openings were either ignored, or not seen.

Luna was uncertain which was the answer as they began to move in a slow circle. Iridia’s movements were quick, her feints technical like she was fighting by numbers, but there was a sloppy bluntness to her swordwork when forced to improvise. It was almost the opposite of the mare Luna remembered sparing with sixteen centuries earlier.

Deciding to test if it was merely show or if Iridia truly was so rusty, Luna surged forward in a sudden burst, Tamashi crossing high and low.

The technically precise movements Iridia had been favouring vanished. Iridia danced backwards, hopping onto her back hooves to avoid a low cut. Extending her wings for balance, Iridia continued her retreat, Gram snapping up, up, then down. Each time, Tamashi flashed, intercepting Iridia’s thrusts. Flowing like the cresting waves of a rising tide, Tamashi continued forward, Gram striking like a snake as Iridia countered, abandoning any attempts of seeking a hole in Luna’s assault.

Narrowing her eyes, Luna sensed a deception. Abandoning her attack she jumped back, returning Tamashi into a vertical guard.

“This is unlike you, Lulu,” Iridia chided, dropping back to all fours and mirroring Luna’s posture. “You used to be far more ruthless.”

“Perhaps,” Luna admitted. “Or, maybe, I am just enjoying the fight and don’t want it to end.”

Iridia frowned, then charged straight at Luna.

The hall was filled with the ringing tones of the ancient blades as they met time and again, Tamashi’s flowing strikes countered by Gram’s tempered, technical movements. Luna’s confidence rose as they began to circle each other like a pair of wolves fighting for dominance of the pack.

“So, how are things with Cadence?” Iridia asked in one of the short reprieves.

The question interrupted the flow of Luna’s attack, Tamashi hesitating for a moment. Stepping into Luna’s reach, Gram turned Tamashi low, the ancient long odachi gouging a deep line in the arena. Luna silently cursed her lapse as Iridia lashed with the butt of Gram’s pommel. A single flap of her wings propelled Luna back, Tamashi dragging along Gram in a shower of sparks, both weapons going further to the side. Rushing into the gap, Iridia crashed into Luna, both mares losing their grips on their weapons as they rolled across the ground, coming to a rest outside the ring on their backs.

Staring up at the ceiling, Luna began to laugh.

“You always were a cheater, Auntie,” Luna noted as she rolled to her hooves and retrieved Tamashi.

“What is that saying? ‘All is fair in Love and War’?” Iridia smirked as she picked up Gram and returned to the starting spot. “Honestly, though, how do things progress with Cadence?”

All of Luna’s good humor died at once, like a candle thrust into a pool.

“That bad?” Iridia’s own smile faded.

“We do not speak, often,” Luna admitted.

Gram’s tip dropped, resting on the floor as Iridia crossed the short divide. With a clang, the sword fell the rest of the way, Iridia extending a wing and hoof in an offer to hug. Luna stared past her, a low, morse laugh working its way up her throat.

Resting Tamashi across her back, Luna shook her head. “I suppose that you, of all ponies, understand my plight. Our daughters hate us, and I wonder if ever there will be a time when they will put that hatred aside.”

“Oh, fie, Lulu,” Iridia moved forward, wing wrapping around Luna’s neck and drawing her close, so they were cheek to cheek. “They do not hate us. Cadence is Love, and Hate is her antithesis. The Nightmare left scars on her, yes, but Cadence can no more hate you than she hates the Changelings for what they did to her and Shining.”

“Cadence burnt the changelings to ash, auntie.” Luna pointed out, breaking the hug and pushing Iridia back. Though she did feel a little better.

Rolling her eyes, Iridia scoffed. “Only the drones and soldiers. The queen, with all that stolen magic, managed to protect herself enough that she was only flung into the Everfree, breaking just about every bone in her pathetic, maleficent body.”

Luna was surprised at the venom in Iridia’s voice, looking her aunt over. There was anger in her eyes and jaw, Iridia’s wings jittering with the effort to suppress her rage. It was a look Luna had seen once before, right after Namyra had been taken.

“How do you know? We never located the queen after her defeat.”

Breathing the rage away, Iridia put on a smile that was obviously fake, and said, “No, you wouldn’t have. Let’s not talk of that, though. How—”

“What difference was there between me and Chrysalis?” Luna protested, three years of fears and guilt boiling over. “Indeed, the treatment she received from the Changeling Queen was—”

“I am going to have to stop you before you start running away with your guilt, Lulu.” Iridia placed a hoof to Luna’s lips.

Luna scowled at the interruption. Brushing away the hoof, Luna sneered, “Fine, what does the great and wise Iridia, Queen of the Halla and Goddess of the Spring and Mothers have to say on my guilt?”

“Nothing you don’t already know.” Iridia shrugged. “I am not here to kiss your nose and tell you everything will be okay. What I will say is this; have faith in your daughter, as I have faith in mine. I pushed Twilight too hard when I first arrived, I see that now. If I were a betting mare, I would guess you did the same with Cadence, with similar results. Cadence is a good, honourable mare, and her heart knows no limits when it comes to love. She is love manifest, after all. Despite being raised by the Nightmare, look how she turned out.”

“Celestia is more responsible than I for that,” Luna scoffed softly.

Still, the sentiment was not lost on Luna, and the weight across her heart lessened.

“Would you like to have another round?” Luna asked, Tamashi re-appearing at her side, and her tail giving a playful flick.

“Certainly. And stop coddling me,” Iridia mirrored Luna’s amused tone. “I know you should have had me at least five times in that first round.”

“Seven,” Luna corrected, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “But who is counting?”

Trixie was not a fool.

This was important, because although she’d made mistakes and been made to look like a fool on many occasions, she was not one. It was hard to stay a fool with a mother as demanding as the late Countess of Gallopton. Or six sisters vying for their mother’s limited attention.

They could marry fools, and that had been the fate of all but Trixie’s younger sister. A stallion was there to look pretty, provide strong foals, and that was about it, as far as their mother was concerned. Trixie shuddered at some of the arranged matches her sisters had suffered, especially that of her eldest sibling. Gallopton was a decently rich area just north of Blatimare, where the family had resided for several generations, and it had been in an effort to preserve and grow their place on the disc that the Countess had all-but sold her foals off.

Lord Parallax, Canterlot’s resident blow-hard and contender for most over-inflated ego with Duke Halcyon Blueblood. Trixie felt pity for her sister, an intelligent, but horribly naive, mare with little of their mother’s ruthless drive.

Countess Belladonna Lulamoon had been a force to contend with in the House of Ladies, often sparring with the upstart Baroness Velvet Sparkle; both figuratively and literally. It had been a duel with the Baroness that had lead to Belladonna’s death.

It was a few years later that Trixie learned the cause of the duel. Belladonna had attempted to arrange a marriage between Trixie and Velvet’s son, an idea Velvet had rebuffed publicly and loudly.

The slight had been too much coming from what, at the time, was a very minor House, though one that every noble knew had caught Celestia’s eye and favour. With recent events, Trixie knew why House Sparkle had been lavished with such attention for so long. She doubted that it would have consoled her mother any.

Still, Trixie had learned from her mother’s lessons, and her mistakes.

She was not a fool.

Since leaving Bridlefalls, a persistent little itch had been at the back of Trixie’s horn. It was an itch Trixie had learned to heed, as it meant trouble was a-hoof. For the first week, Trixie had increased her pace, going so far as to have her wagon put onto a flatbed car of a cargo train to cover extra leagues, but no matter how fast or far they travelled, each night the itch came back. She stopped putting on shows, never stayed more than a single night in any one spot, avoided towns, avoided secluded woods and roads; all to no effect.

The only good, if it could be considered such, was that Trixie and Shyara had managed to cross over a third of Equestria in the space of two weeks. She’d have almost been proud if not for the nagging worry that hounded her.

Tired and cranky with the approaching season—Trixie always seemed to be affected early—and dirty from a particularly hard three days of travel, Trixie pulled her wagon to a stop in a decent sized field in a little dell between rolling hills. A line of trees would provide shade in the evening, and a clear pond water that shifted into a large, marshy area on one side. In the distance the low walls of a town could be seen, with an abandoned castle watching from atop a steep rise.

All-in-all as good a place to wait out The Season as any other, especially with an inquisitive filly.

Or, it should have been.

She’d just started to undo the buckles to her harness when the wagon was struck on the side, sending it and her careening across the field. Terror scoured Trixie’s mind clean in those precious moments that she and the wagon hung in the air, suspended on a sliver of time. Shyara’s high pitched screams echoed from the wagon, driving the fear deeper. The screams were followed by a wet squelch as they landed in the reeds of a shallow fen next to the pond, harness crushing the breath from Trixie’s lungs. Silence crashed with the wagon, broken only by the distant cawing of crows and the angry croaking of a toad.

Head spinning, it took Trixie several moments to fully comprehend what had occurred. The wagon, and her, were upside down, and slowly sinking into barrel deep mud. Hoof flailing at the buckles, she struggled to release herself from the straps digging into her back and side. Giving up, Trixie grabbed the buckle with all her telekinetic strength and wrenched it apart, tearing the brass fitting from the wood and dropping her to the water with a splat.

Mud and water soaked into Trixie’s coat as she struggled to right herself, legs kicking and a deep growl rumbling in her throat. It was only as she gathered her bearings and slowly stood that she realised that the silence was only deepening, the murder’s raucous laughter fading as they fled.

Sunk in the fen up to her thighs, Trixie took a couple plodding steps towards the shore, only to stop as settling wood moaned. She stopped, a sharp pang in her side as she looked back at the wreck behind her. Instincts screamed for her to run away and seek shelter in the woods. Something that could hurl a wagon with such ease was not something a pony should fight.

“Shyara…” Trixie whispered the filly’s name, heart twisting as she stood in the middle of the fen, at a loss as whether to run or go back.

Her ears swiveled, searching for the attacker, but a groan followed by a yelp grabbed at Trixie.

“Shyara!” Trixie started back towards the wagon. “Hold on, Trixie is coming.”

While gifted in magic, Trixie was also strong, with a toned physique many earth ponies would envy formed from years pulling her wagon. Teeth barred, Trixie pushed through the cloying, silvery-grey mud.

Even then, it took her far too long to make her way to the wagon’s entrance. In the minute she spent forcing her way through the mud, Trixie became aware of something watching her from the tall grass. She couldn’t make it out fully, other than an indistinct form black as tar.

Keeping an ear on the creature, Trixie grabbed the door with her magic and gave it a sharp tug. Then a second. And a third. All to no avail. The wagon had sunk too far, the door stuck fast.

“Shyara, are you alright?” Trixie called.

A muffled groan and a cough told her that Shyara was still alive, at least for the moment. In the sucking mud and water, kicking the door would prove futile. Leveling her horn at the green painted wood, Trixie formed together the runes for a spell.

“If you can, get back from the door,” was all the warning Trixie gave before launching a stream of telekinetic bursts.

The door took the blows with admiration, Trixie grunting, “Reinforced doors… Never again,” as she reformed the spell.

From the stalking shadow, a sound like the hiss of a steam engine issued forth, reeds rustling as it drew nearer. Trixie tried to put it out of her mind and focus on getting Shyara out of the sinking wreckage. Again and again Trixie’s spell struck the obstinate door until a split formed.

“Trixie… hurry,” Shyara gasped and coughed.

The filly’s words sent new strength through Trixie, sweeping away the multitude of aches in her withers and horn.

Roaring, Trixie brought all the power she could to bear, forming a shimmering blue-white ram of pure force that the door could not resist and almost shattering it in a burst of aether motes. Grabbing the remaining splinters, Trixie yanked them aside and leaned into the wagon, hooves searching for Shyara. She found the filly floating in a field of personal items and debris. There was just enough room for Shyara’s head to be free of the water, what had been the wagon’s bottom crushing down the walls and roof.

Only inches separated them when Trixie was grabbed around the midsection. The tingle of telekinetics rippled through Trixie’s coat before squeezing the air from her in a hissing rush. A rib cracked as she was cast, screaming, into the pond. Stars and icy pain exploded through her as she began to sink, water filling her nose and throat.

In a moment of stark clarity crafted by her terror, Trixie pushed through the pain. Shrouded in a murky cloud of disturbed silt, it took Trixie a heart beat to figure out which way the surface lay. Lungs burning, she burst out of the pond and was greeted by Shyara’s screaming.

Scraping mud from her eyes and hacking up water, it took all Trixie’s training to keep her mind focused, each breath bringing with it a fresh agony

Trixie saw a stranger standing in the reeds, a unicorn cloaked in shadow and menace, oily magic blazing along her horn. Tattered and torn robes hung from the stranger’s lanky frame, identifying her as a Sister. The priestess’ eyes, glowing orbs of wintery blue and filled with a maleficent hunger, regarded Trixie with contempt before shifting to Shyara. Shyara yelled and screamed profanities, her legs kicking and wings beating frantically to escape the stranger’s magic grip.

Drawing on her runes, Trixie formed the illusion of wolf prowling out of the forest and into the reeds. It was a spell she’d used many times before, one that preyed on a pony’s natural fears to strengthen the magic’s hold.

The priestess did not so much as glance at the illusion as it mounted the wagon’s wreckage and snarled. With barely a flick of her own horn, the priestess banished the spell.

“You are a fool, Trixie. You should have run when you were able,” she snarled to herself, each word accompanied by a fresh jolt from her battered ribs. Abandoning subtly, Trixie formed a ram of telekinetic force, bringing it down on the priestess with a squelching boom that sent up a geyser of muddy water.

A slight jolt of magical feedback burrowing through Trixie’s horn warned her that the fight was far from over. Trixie was shocked to find the priestess unharmed as water and mud rained down around them, glowering at her with a dark intent that chilled her marrow. A dark blue shield encapsulated the priestess and Shyara, its edges flickering with oily aether. Trixie had never witnessed a shield form so fast.

Trixie had expected a counter, but not a shield. Within the shield, the priestess could not strike back. Gaining a little more confidence at the priestess’ blunder, Trixie yelled, “I won’t let you have her!”

“Won’t let me?” The priestess laugh, a harsh, raspy sound that grated Trixie’s ears.

Pulling herself towards the shore she searched for something more physical in nature, and found it in one of the wagon’s axles.

With a ringing thud, the axle speared the shield, breaking it into a thousand shards. Anger flashed within those cold eyes as the priestess swatted aside Trixie’s follow-up swing. Trixie clenched her teeth and brought the axle around again, aiming for the priestesses horn. A counter formed in a blast of fire, burning the axle to ash and a brittle rod of coal that crumbled in Trixie’s grip, embers hissing as they fell into the water.

Trixie sagged, mane matted to her face. It was all she could do to stay upright and not collapse back into the water. The disc spun, much of her magic depleted, pain spreading through her sides and back.

The priestess laughed again, and she took a few strides towards Trixie, moving through the fen like she were strolling through a garden.

“You should flee, pony,” she said, eyes flashing. “I have what I was sent to retrieve. Le—”

The priestess’ words ended in a clap of thunder and terrible shriek, a shadow like a sliver of the night colliding with her, sending both itself, the priestess, and Shyara tumbling into the pond. Trixie’s eyes widened as, for a moment, she beheld a field of stars and nebula latched onto the priestess, snarling and howling as it slashed and clawed, only to be struck by the oncoming wave and sucked down beneath the water once more.

In the sunlight that fell like curtains through the water, Trixie spotted Shyara floating upside down a few lengths away, priestess and shade swirling and lashing just beyond, turning the pond into a churning tempest.

Grabbing Shyara, Trixie kicked and dragged them to the shore, coughing and gasping as she reached it’s far side where there was a low rock she could pull herself and Shyara onto.

Near the end of her endurance, Trixie quickly checked Shyara over. The filly stared upwards, and Trixie would have thought her dead if not for the shallow rise and fall of her chest. Blood ran down Shyara’s brow and neck, staining the rock and dripping into the pond where the water turned dark as ink.

With no time to contemplate, Trixie took a deep breath and pushed through the ache spreading throughout her. Rolling Shyara over and up onto her back, Trixie began to crawl towards the trees, the howls and shrieks from behind urging her onwards.

She couldn’t tell who was winning, the pond a swirling froth as the battle raged within. Beneath the foam and turbulent waters came a deep flash of blue and purple, followed by a thud that resonated into Trixie bones and set her teeth rattling. A second flash and thud drove Trixie into the dirt.

Her beastial roar making the nearby trees shudder, the priestess burst out of the pond, the shade still wrapped around her like an ethereal snake. The glen shook as the priestess took a step towards Trixie, enraged eyes fixated on her precious passenger. Magic climbing higher than the treetops, the priestess summoned a sickly green, crescent bladed battleaxe, frost clinging to the metal. Steel flashed in the afternoon sun, followed by a piercing shriek.

A sucking roar. A blinding flash. And the shade fell into two halves; one writhing and screaming, the other still except the occasional twitch as it vanished beneath the still churning waves.

Letting all the surrounding lands know of her victory with a guttural bellow, the priestess marched like a mare possessed towards Trixie.

“Who? What, are you?” Trixie croaked, pulling Shyara closer.

The priestess smiled, axe hovering over her shoulder. Her bones clicked and clacked as she walked towards Trixie, her left-foreleg clearly broken in three places. The priestess took no notice of her wounds, relentless in her approach.

“I am Doshaa, spawn of Tirak the Endless Maw and Witiko the Eternal Wrath, and I was going to let you live, pony, to spread word of our return and sow the seeds of terror. But, you have tried my patience too far, and so, you will die.”

“A demon…” Trixie sagged a little in defeat.

Perhaps, a last, foolish act, then, Trixie thought to herself. If she was going to die, and Trixie hardly had the strength to move, let alone fight, she could at least try to live up to the legends and stories she’d spun over the years. Yes, she would be a fool.

“Trixie is not afraid of you, monster,” she snarled, dragging herself and Shyara a few more hoof lengths away. “Trixie has faced down an Ursa Major. With these hooves, she retrieved the Midnight Crown of Princess Luna. Trixie… She… I…”

Her voice drifted off, no more proud words of defiance dancing from her tongue.

“You are a liar,” Doshaa snorted, lowering her face so it was mere inches from Trixie’s. Her breath was foul, a mixture of sulfur and rot, and her eyes glassy and dead behind the blue glow. “A small, bitter, petty creature that burns with envy. And that would almost save you, if you’d not annoyed me so.”

Doshaa placed a cracked hoof on Trixie’s throat.

“She is not bitter nor petty, though she is a little small, it’s true,” retorted another in a voice so accented and rolling that Trixie had trouble making out the words.

Doshaa spun to face the newcomer, and in that moment, Trixie struck. Grabbing a jagged rock, Trixie stabbed Doshaa in the eye. The possessed priestess screamed, hooves scraping at the stone jutting from her face, and fell backwards into the pond. Trixie held her breath, expecting the pony to return again, only for the water to at last grow still.

Sagging in relief, Trixie turned her head to the side to see the newcomer. She made out a tall figure standing above them, the sun at his back so that he was barely an impression within the light.

The newcomer jumped down the hill, leaping over the reeds, droplets of water sparkling in a tinkling cloud around him. Sunlight flashed from steel tipped prongs, and then he landed at Trixie’s side. From her position on the rock, Trixie got a view of the newcomer as he set about peering into the murky pond.

He was not a pony.

That was all Trixie could tell as the fog of exhaustion settled on her mind.

The rocks were rather comfortable, Trixie found, laying her head down next to Shyara. She was only vaguely aware of hooves stamping around her and three hundred new shadows stretching over her battered form.

On a blissful haze, the disc drifted away.

How long she hovered on that cloud, Trixie was not sure. A minute? A day? It was all the same. After a period both immeasurably short and longer than all Trixie’s years, she became aware of a voice, and a dark pegasus waiting next to the wreckage of her wagon. Though his countenance and visage were grim, he put Trixie at ease.

Hooves grabbed her face, shaking away the fog, banishing the stranger, and pulling Trixie back to the disc.

“Don’t go! You can’t fail me too,” Shyara pressed her head against Trixie, making the showmare give a weak grin. “Come on, you fool, stay with me.”

“Trixie… is not a fool,” she countered in a low, wheezing breath that sounded nothing like her usual voice.

“Move aside, child, let me see her,” interjected another, and Shyara was pulled aside.

Sunlight and gold flashed before Trixie’s eyes, blinding her to the new voice. Hooves, gentle but firm, ran across Trixie’s barrel and stomach. In their wake was left a warmth that tickled and soothed.

Blinking away her blindness, Trixie caught a white face, with big brown eyes pinched with concentration, and antlers decked in gold tags. Amber magic danced along the stranger’s antlers like fey fire, accompanied by a gentle crackle of molding aether.

“Well,” Trixie stated, attempting to push herself upright, only to collapse, and this time truly fall into an exhausted sleep.

Book resting on her barrel, Fluttershy drifted in a hazy repose. Worries for Twilight, Pinkie, and Rainbow occasionally surfaced, a back hoof twitching to kick the thoughts away. A few of her songbirds nestled in the crook between her wings and body, almost like they were nesting, chirping the last refrains of the song Fluttershy had hummed while tending to the flowers around her home.

Everything was as right with the disc as possible.

In the peaceful, cool breeze, Fluttershy imagined the party Pinkie would throw when her friends returned. There would be streamers and balloons, naturally, and a big cake. Fluttershy pictured gathering with her friends in Applejack’s barn. Big Mac would be there, of course, wearing the vest he’d inherited from his father and that he only wore on really special occasions. Fluttershy would find her courage, and ask him for a dance, and of course he’d say yes.

A smile spread across Fluttershy’s muzzle, a happy moan parting her lips as she fell deeper into the daydream.

After the dance, they’d go for a walk beneath Twilight’s stars. They’d sit, for a time, she leaning on his shoulder, him gazing up at Selene. It’d be the most perfect, best night ever.

A wonderful dream, hummed a voice in Fluttershy’s ear, making her crack open an eye.

“W-Who’s there?” She lifted her head, but saw nopony, only her little animal friends.

Shrugging, Fluttershy lowered her head back onto Mr. Bear’s shoulder, assuming it had been her imagination.

The large bear hadn’t left her home in days, sleeping in the shade cast by her cottage. Fluttershy suspected something was wrong with the big softie as he usually prefered staying in Whitetail Wood where he could rummage for berries and scoop all the salmon he wanted out of the shallow streams. Since she’d returned home he hadn’t left the cottage, often trying to follow her inside. At night he slept beneath her window, his low huffs and growls filtering up to her.

Can you hear me?

There was no mistaking that somepony had spoken, Fluttershy darted upright, scanning the midday shadows for the speaker. The birds nestled against her cried out, flapping up into the cottage’s branches. Still, she saw nopony.

“What…”

Oh, this is amazing! You can hear me, at last! An excited squeal followed the exclamation. Although, I am uncertain if that is good or bad…

Turning in a quick circle, Fluttershy looked for the speaker, but saw nothing. Stretching her neck up, and using a couple, quick beats of her wings to lift herself up further, Fluttershy peered over Mr. Bear’s back to no avail.

My apologies, dear Fluttershy, but you won’t be able to see me.

“W-Why?” Fluttershy shivered, dropping back down and pressing herself against Mr. Bear.

I’m… I’m inside you… the voice admitted with what could have been an embarrassed cough.

“Inside me?” Fluttershy’s eyes grew to the size of saucers, her head naturally tracking down to her belly.

No, not like that! The voice grew a little frantic. Though, I truly wish that was the answer. No, I’m in… Well, your heart? Maybe your head? I’m not so certain, to be honest…

“Oh.” Ears falling flat, Fluttershy gave a little whimper.

Don’t worry! Everything will be okay… I think… Maybe… Okay, probably not. But we can try to figure this out, right? I mean… We should be able to…

“You’re… um, like Athena? The pony inside Fleur?”

Silence.

A tense knot formed in Fluttershy’s stomach, her tail snapping through the short grass. Had she said something wrong? Was the voice all in her imagination?

Yes. Just like Athena. I’m sorry, regret weighed down the voice, almost pulling Fluttershy down into the grass. I let my fear for Tyr overwhelm me, and now… Well, no sense crying over lost souls, my father always said. And, things could be worse. I think. Maybe. I am alive… sort of? Well, you’re alive, and I’m in you, so I’m alive? Is that how this works? I should have asked… Well, nevermind. Nothing for it now but to get me out of you and set things right. We should have time before we become too intertwined.

Fluttershy was lost. Completely, hopelessly, and utterly lost.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m making things worse. Um, how about I start at the beginning, yes?

Slowly, Fluttershy nodded and said, “O-Okay.”

I’m Artemis, Goddess of the Wilds. Or I was? No, I still am… Pretty sure I am, anyways… Sorry, getting side-tracked again. So, yes, I’m Artemis. Hello.

There was a pause, into which Fluttershy returned the greeting and waved a hoof, feeling a little silly.

“We’ll, it’s—”

“Hey, Fluttershy!”

Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle’s shrill voices burst from behind Fluttershy. At once, she, her heart, and Mr. Bear all leapt several hooflengths into the air.

Clutching a hoof to her chest to help still her racing heart, Fluttershy gave the fillies an almost disapproving not-quite glare.

“Girls, you frightened me.” She very nearly had an edge to her voice, the mere hint of anger enough to make Scootaloo and Sweetie wilt.

“We’re sorry,” they solemnly intoned together.

“It’s just, Apple Bloom’s been staying later with Zecora to make up for the time she lost with her studying flowers and mud while we were in Canterlot. We’ve not been able to do any good crusading since we got back,” Scootaloo grumbled, earning an admonishment from Sweetie.

“It’s important to her, Scootaloo,” Sweetie rolled her eyes.

Crossing her hooves, Scootaloo huffed, “Well, I just wish she’d hurry up. Mom and Dad promised to get us milkshakes.”

“You’re just still perturbed by those new zebras in town,” Sweetie snickered, elbowing Scootaloo in the ribs.

“Am not! Even though they’re ten different roads to Creepyville. And what’s ‘perturbed’?”

“Excuse me, girls,” Fluttershy interjected, “but, what new zebras?”

The fillies shared a look, then said together, “The new zebras staying at the inn.”

“They’ve been asking around town about Twilight, and Zecora, and stuff.” Scootaloo crinkled her muzzle.

Sweetie nodded, adding, “Yeah. The one who does the talking isn’t so bad… But her companion, what was her name, Scootaloo?”

A shrug from Scootaloo was followed with, “Why the hay do you think I would remember? It was foreign and weird and I don’t like them.” She snorted, and made to spit, but seeing the disgust that flashed across Fluttershy’s face, swallowed instead. “Anyways, there’s AB now.”

Scootaloo pointed, and sure enough, Apple Bloom was trotting out of the Everfree without a care in the world, whistling a happy tune to herself. After the typical friendly ribbing and jesting, the three departed, waving good-bye to Fluttershy and Mr. Bear.

They are so… similar. If I did not know it were impossible, I would believe them to be the Muses in disguise, Artemis hummed. More importantly, this Zecora, she may be the answer to our problem.

“She could be?”

Indeed. I see in your memories she is a powerful witch. Well, shaman, rather. Though, what’s the difference? Other than—nevermind. Important part is that she might be able to separate us. We shall go see her at once!

“Oh, no, not at once,” Fluttershy gave her head a vigorous shake followed by a meek apology. “I mean, the Everfree is going to be really dangerous and Zecora doesn’t like to be disturbed this time of year and the critters need me and I think it best we wait and think this over. That’s all.” Fluttershy was gasping by the end of her little rant.

Artemis was silent.

Well, she began, then trailed off and with a cough that echoed between Fluttershy’s ears, again said, Well, and nothing more for some minutes.

“We’ll go… after the Season. How about that?” Fluttershy mumbled as she stretched and started towards the chicken coops.

Sooner would be better, sighed Artemis, But if you feel more comfortable waiting, so be it. Don’t wait too long, though.

Where most found the gentle, rhythmic roll of a ship comforting, Fleur existed in a state of perpetual anxiety. Locked away in her tiny room, no bigger than her closet back home, she tried every trick, technique, and tool to master the tremors that ran from her hooves to the tip of her horn. Alone and almost forgotten, with her entire body aching, Fleur found even the most mundane tasks a challenge. Sleep was near impossible, and if not for the doctor with his drops of laudanum to sooth the constant prickling of her nerves, she’d have perished for certain.

Or, as near as certain as Fleur could be, for there was the slight matter of her passenger.

Fleur had no other way to think of Athena, the stow-away slowly eating at her sanity and soul.

Days earlier Athena had started to speak to Fleur, whispering in her ear. If she had not already been aware of her presence, Fleur would have assumed herself mad.

It had been when Athena first spoke that Fleur forced herself from her room, using a double-dose of fortifying laudanum to calm the screaming of her nerves and skin, and out onto the deck.

And, no sooner had she spotted Twilight when Ophelia fell overboard, and Fleur’s resolve crumbled like lose stonework in a tremor.

Retreating once more below decks, Fleur let opportunity after opportunity slip through her grasp, remaining silent of the growing voice in her head.

On top of the roll of the ship, Athena’s growing presence, and the idea of the fathomless water below, waiting to swallow her and suck her down into an infinite black, cold, suffocating death, there was the matter of the cannons.

For days and nights on end, ever since the weather had cleared and the stars began to lessen their dances, Captain Hardy had been putting the gun crews through their paces. While the guest cabins, being above the gun decks, were not cleared away for action like the rest of the ship, the planking underhoof could do little to mute the bangs and thumps, the groans of disappointment when a crew missed the targets rowed out, nor their roars of triumphs when they scored a hit.

With wax balls wedged in her ears, Fleur grew more and more tense as the cannons fired, one-by-one, until the cannon directly beneath her cot banged and the cabin jittered and groaned.

After a week of such exercises, Fleur’s nerves had reached their end, and either she had to break or overcome.

It is not as if failing to inform Twilight of my growing presence alters anything, Athena remarked as Fleur found herself once more at the door that led to the open deck, a hoof resting just above the handle. They were too timid to remove me when I was far weaker and in the seat of their power. There is nothing they can do now. Our fate is intertwined, you and I, Fleur de Lis the Timid.

“Je ne suis pas timide.”

Fleur took a deep breath, settled the wrenching in chest and legs, and did nothing. She just stood there, staring at the painted wood. A creak and sudden lurch as a running wave lifted the Bellerophon’s stern sent Fleur skittering back a couple lengths towards her tiny cabin. There she gasped and panted, breaths coming in shallow gulps as she flicked the hoof that had been resting on the door. It felt dirty and wrong. Stamping it a few more times cleared some of the unwelcome crawling, but not all.

Not timid, indeed, snorted Athena. How is it that you, of all ponies, had the most compatible spirit to house my greatness?

Leaning up against the door to her cabin, Fleur had no answer.

Regardless, this dithering is no longer amusing.

Following Athena’s declaration, a supernatural calm fell over Fleur. She blinked a couple of times. Fleur was aware that she should have been, at the very least, concerned about Athena’s intentions, but she was not. For the first time since leaving Baltimare, with the great vastness of the sea stretched out before her, Fleur felt at peace.

“What have you done?” Fleur asked as she pushed herself from the bulkhead.

I simply granted you the wisdom to see the flaws in your fears. There was a slight uptick to Athena’s voice, almost like she were smiling.

Trotting onto the ship’s deck like she were in her own home, Fleur snorted and rolled her eyes. “Should I be concerned that you can control my emotions with such ease?” she asked, drawing several looks from those nearby.

This is… Athena paused to grunt, a flicker of amusement rippling through Fleur at the mental image of a ghostly alicorn struggling to hold back a red tidal wave of fears that popped into her head. More difficult than it seems.

“Then why?” Fleur turned in a small circle, looking for Twilight and spotting the princess near the starboard rail with the captain.

Am I helping? Athena finished Fleur’s thought. It is better than having you stare at a bare beam for another month.

Putting the contempt Athena oozed out of her mind, Fleur crossed the deck. She paused, and slid to the side, not wanting to interrupt, and naturally the conversation drifted towards Fleur.

“This damnable griping when shes in a following sea has become a bother,” Hardy huffed, gazing out over the ocean to the wonderfully puffy cloud hovering in the near-distance. “It’s my fault for rushing the stowage. Her trim is all wrong and she doesn’t like being so heavy by the stern. I’m certain that is the answer, and if we’d raised the St. Pansies, I know we would have sorted it all out.”

“The St. Pansies? I don’t think I’ve heard of them,” Twilight commented over a cup of tea and toasted cheese sandwiches.

“Oh, prettiest little islands you can imagine. Flat, very flat, and hard to see until you’re almost on the shoals and reefs that surround them. You won’t find them on most maps, as they are home only to birds and lizards, and well outside the usual trade lanes. But well founded in cactus and fresh water. It had been my plan to anchor in the bay of the larger isle and wait on shore while the Season passed with the other stallions. Sadly, the trades have been late this year and we are a good day short. Won’t see them until near nightfall, if the wind doesn’t back or pick up.” The captain chuckled and sighed in the same breath.

Into that gap, Fleur went to make her presence known. At the same moment she opened her mouth to speak, a strong hail tore across the deck, drowning Fleur out.

“Debris! A big field of it ahead and stretching to larboard, sir.”

Ears falling flat, Fleur could feel Athena’s laughter as orders and stamping hooves created an impenetrable din of noise. Sails were reefed, and the ship’s course altered to the south. Dozens of hooves went to the rails, seamares jostling to get a better view while making room for the officers, Twilight, and Fleur.

Without hesitation, Fleur glanced over the side and looked down on a large patch of water containing the floating remains of a ship. There was no doubt it had been a ship, with the few bobbing masts, and sheer quantity of barrels and bodies.

So many bodies.

Hundreds of them covered the sea, forming a sifting carpet. There was a complete lack of life, not even the usual scavengers or predators present. This was a place of death alone. The breeze wafting across the ship carried with it a rotten odor, like the wretched breath of an ancient dragon.

“Celestia, Luna, and Twilight,” muttered a crewmare beside Fleur.

“Poor sods,” said another. “What happened to ‘em? Pirates?”

Jill Place, the oldest mare aboard, shook her scraggly mane. “No, lass, this ain’t no pirate work.” She pointed to a spar, bobbing along just below the surface, long gashes along its length like a monumental bear had used it as a scratching post. “That was not done by no pirate that ever roamed the seas. This is a draconequus’ playground, make no mistake.”

Low mutters broke out at Jill’s proclamation, a few looking to the officers to refute the old seamare. None did, however. They just stared at the flotsam, with growing looks of dread or disgust.

“A survivor! Look, that one’s moving!”

A burst of activity followed the proclamation. Calls for the doctor to be retrieved, a boat to be lowered and sent off to retrieve the supposed survivor, and all the while Fleur stood next to Twilight without a thought of speaking to the princess about Athena. Her attention had been captured as completely as that of the crew. An entire fleet could have snuck up on the Bellerophon with no pony the wiser until the deadly first broadside was cast.

Stretching like champions, aware that all their mates eyes were upon them, the group in the jolly boat raced out and back. Slinging a rope from the mainsail yardarm, the survivor was winched aboard like a sack of flour.

“Give her space,” Timely commanded the moment the poor mare was set on deck.

A gasp, like the dry croak of a toad, and the survivor grabbed Timely by the leg. She looked up at him with bloodshot eyes.

“Leviathan, she has arisen! Leviathan, Leviathan,” the mare cried over and over, gripping the doctor’s leg, her eyes wild and unfocused, rolling into the back of her head. She gasped, “Leviathan,” once more, and was dead.

Seamares and officers alike made symbols and whispered prayers to Twilight, Luna, Celestia, and Faust.

Leviathan? Athena echoed the name, a slight tremble in her voice. That is impossible. She and all her ilk are contained beneath Tartarus. It can not be true… It simply can not…

“‘Her scales are as granite, harder than the millstones bottom. When She rose up, the mighty queens were terrified; they fell back from Her thrashing. Coals poured from Her open mouth, turning the courtyard to be as Ioka’s fiery blood. ‘You summon your own doom,’ spake She, dismay spread with a flick of Her flaming tongue. The queens spears and swords had no effect upon Her, and their magic failed them utterly. Thrice She wrapped Her coils about the isle, and Thrice did the queens plead for Her mercy. ‘Mercy, I have not, for I am Leviathan, and I am naught but Envy.’

“Spirited from the isles, Renewal and Harmony watched as Marelantis was swallowed. Iridia refused to look away, Faust placed her head upon Bellerophon’s breast; they wept for the death of so much.”

Every pony present looked to Twilight as the princess recited the words taken from the Book of Spring. Dread gripped the ship, but none felt it more keenly than Fleur, amplified as it was by the tremors coming from Athena.

Book One: Chapter Thirteen: The Three Serpents

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Chapter 13: The Three Serpents

It was from the mizzentop that Greater St. Pansy was first spotted, or rather, the thick bank of cloud that hung around the island.

A plain strip of land, dotted only with the occasional prickly tree or shrub among swaths of stubby cacti, Greater St. Pansy was as devoid of features as Hardy had promised, and then some. Calling it featureless would have been kind. There was nothing to distinguish the island besides its isolation off the usual trade routes.

The Bellerophon approached from the north at an easy pace under topsails only, with every sharp eye looking for the rocky shoals that would spring up close to shore out of the great depths. The lookouts had been in their accustomed spots since encountering the poor mare of the wreck, and it was with relief more than apprehension that they watched the dangerous shore draw nearer.

All around her, the water was so clear that Twilight—standing at the rail with Rainbow, Fleur, and the doctor—could see a large barracuda swimming along at a lazy pace some ten or more fathoms down. Beneath the barracuda danced a kelp forest with fish of all colours and varieties darting about. Near the shore, the water went from a wonderful azure hue to a light aqua, a dark streak marking the channel.

Within that lagoon, two other ships waited, already at anchor.

The closer and larger of the two was the Sea Serpent, that most notorious of piratical ships. Hardy had named her the moment he clapped his eyes on her streaked mizzen and the odd triangular windows set on the corners of the gallery. She was in the middle of repairs, the noisy din of hammer and saw easy to make out, as were the ponies shimmying up and down the masts.

Beside the Sea Serpent sat her prize, and what a prize it was. A large Indiamare that had hoped to sneak by during the lull in mid-spring traffic while the pirates and privateers returned to their ports, looking to refit and restock before the large convoys arrived. She was loaded and heavy with unenchanted crystals from Gryphonia. Of course the crew of the Bellerophon did not know the exact nature of the cargo, but one look at the size of her, the brass twelve-pounder sitting unseated next to a gaping hole in her stern quarter and how low yet comfortably she sat in the water, told them she was worth a fortune.

“Such is a pity we cannot take them,” Hardy grumbled before calling for a reduction in sail.

“Why ain’t we beatin’ to quarters?” asked Gilly Seaweed to her sister.

Green shot Gilly a look of contempt as she snapped, “’Cause, we gots the princess an’ her entourage aboard.”

“So?”

“So, you piss-eared sow, Cap’n ain’t gunna endanger her, is he? And they,” Green indicated the Sea Serpent with a nod, “ain’t gunna try to take us, like. Not with her aboard. As if’n that frigate there has a chance against us.”

Gilly shook her head. “I don’t get it. Wouldn’t she make a good hostage? Her ransom would be—”

“Ha! That’s Captain Bloodrose over there, and she’s a lot smarter than us both put together. She knows she can’t take the princess. Gods have tried, Gilly. Why, Princess Twilight’s faced Nightmare Moon, Discord, and fought her way through an army o’ changelings to reach her cousin. The princess would make short work of that lot over there, mark my words.”

Whatever the captain of the Sea Serpent thought, it was apparent the pirates didn’t desire a fight, nor expect one. They continued about their tasks as if the Bellerophon was no more a concern than an old cat sleeping on a sill.

Running with an easy rolling swell, the Bellerophon made her way through the channel, then made for a little dip in the lagoon where she could watch the pirates and cover any approach with her many cannons. Before the captain had given the order for the anchors to be dropped, a jolly boat set off from the Sea Serpent. Up to the larboard stairs the jolly boat went, reaching them as the last bit of chain clattered from their lockers.

“The ship is moored, sir, if you please,” Fighting Spirit reported.

“Very good, Fighting,” Hardy acknowledged with the barest inclination of his chin that he’d watched the professional and seamare-like manner of the mooring with great approval. “Let’s see to our… guests, then.”

Unmoved from their spots the entire time, Twilight almost jittered from desire to follow the captain. It took both Fleur and the doctor’s warning looks to hold Twilight back.

There was no fanfare or ceremony as the pirate climbed aboard, her bright red hat standing out all the more against the blue uniforms of the sailors for the peacock feather in its brim. She wore a matching coat, with ruffles at the collar and cuff-links, a sabre dangling at her side, and a gold clamshell broach at the curve of her throat. Humour danced behind her clear blue eyes set in a puffy, pink-furred face.

Twilight and Rainbow shared shocked looks. They’d both met this mare, and they both knew it was impossible for her to be standing there tipping her broad-brimmed hat.

“Hardy, ya ol’ hound, what’s a proper naval officer such as yourself doing in a backwater hole such as this? Your reputation will be in ruins if we keep running into each other in these little, out-of-the-way places, dont’cha know.”

“Can’t be…” Rainbow muttered, to which Twilight could only shake her head.

There was little denying what they were witnessing. The so-called Dread Pirate Bloodrose was none other than Bonnie Belle. They’d both met her only a few times over the years, but there was no mistaking her distinctive mid-western twang, nor the wink she shot the pair.

“What in Celestia’s mane is Rarity’s mom doing out here?” Rainbow further hissed out of the corner of her mouth.

“How should I know?” Twilight growled back.

“Ha! That’s a knee-slapper, Hardy!” Bonnie’s laughter, deep and full, brought the pair back to the conversation on the other side of the deck. “But—and this will really twist your tail—I’m sailing under the whatcha-call-it of the Prench. Auspices, ya know.”

From the breast pocket of her jacket, Bonnie produced a packed set of papers. Twilight recognised at once the royal ribbon and wax used to wrap the papers.

A stern frown stiched across his muzzle, Hardy took the papers and with a slight tilt of his head for Bonnie to follow lead the way to the great cabin.

The two captains conferred for a while, and when they emerged both were flush in the face with the smell of port on their breaths. After seeing Bonnie over the side, Hardy called for his steward.

“Be sure to put on enough for guests—I’ve invited Captain Bloodrose and her First for dinner,” was all he said before taking his leave. As he yanked open the cabin door, a grumble rolled across the quiet deck. “Damndest thing. Chase her to the edge and back, and here she is, untouchable. Faust, you have a wicked sense of humour sometimes.”

Dinner that evening was one of the most awkward affairs Twilight had ever experienced. The food was good, a healthy serving of plum duff covered in a creamy sauce, ratatouille, and a cheese dish Twilight couldn’t name but had a smokey aftertaste that left her mouth watering for more. The wine was decent as well, with bottles flowing freely around the table. Accepting only a single glass to be polite, Twilight was dismayed as bottle after bottle vanished upon reaching either captain. Their faces were soon flushed beneath their coats, Bonnie turning a shade lighter than a tomato while Hardy took on an unsavory splotchy nature, especially where his scar left a bare patch.

Conversation was all but nonexistent, with what little there was forced and quickly dissolving.

Unable to stand the silence any longer, Twilight turned to Bonnie and asked, “So, Captain Bloodrose, is it? Why piracy?”

“Technically I’m a privateer, Your Highness.” Bonnie smiled wide. “I have papers from Prance letting me take or sink anything flying Hackney’s colours. The coin from the Prench ain’t the best—Hackney pays better—but I couldn’t ever help that lot. So long as I don’t practice my wicked trade on them that pass through Equestrian waters, I got a pretty liberal hoof in things. Ain’t that right, Hardy?”

The captain muttered something unintelligible into his cup.

Head tilted, Fleur frowned at Bonnie. “But, Captain, surely there are better ways to earn a living, non?”

“Sure there is, hun, but not for me. I love it out here almost as much as I love my fillies. Nothing quite like the thrill of the chase followed by the crash of cannons to get the ol’ blood pumping. Then there are the chance encounters. We saw the L’Orient not three weeks ago making her way sout’. Now, there’s a beaut’. A First-Rate triple decker. A hundred and ten guns. A veritable floating fortress.” Raising her glass, Bonnie offered, “To the ships-of-the-line, the true queens of the sea!”

The table took the toast very well and at last a lively conversation began to flow.

“Take de Resolute Deal—that’s the fat prize sitting beside my Sea Serpent, ya know.” Bonnie gave a wide leer to the naval officers, all of whom returned it with unrestrained envy mingled with a bit of distaste. “She’s loaded to the top of her holds with sapphires, rubies, and a rather well-hidden box containing a dozen Dragon Diamonds.”

She repeated the cargo with extra force, eyes sparkling as many of the officers let out low whistles.

Dragon Diamonds, a rare form of the gem found only near the great Dragon Desert, blue as Luna’s eyes, and said to be cursed as a result.

“Those would be worth a royal ransom,” Twilight said after calculating the worth of even uncut gems. There was no question they’d be wild grown, rather than cultivated on so-called rock farms. That only added to their value in most circles. “You don’t think I could purchase some off you?”

After putting the aurumn gift from Zebrica in the Royal Bank, Twilight could certainly afford a few of the gems. Except the gold was in a bank. In Equestria. And she didn’t have a single bank note with her, an oversight brought on through a myriad of factors. Twilight blamed herself. She’d readied a box herself, and left it somewhere in her rooms. Summoning the notes was out of the question, for the same reasons she couldn’t teleport herself to Zebrica.

“Ha! Oh, fer sure, if’n ya want ’em and yous have Royal Equestrian banknotes. I’ll be glad to be rid of ’em.”

“What about a promissory note?” Twilight put on a wide grin, leaned onto the table, and fixed Bonnie with the most intense stare she could muster. “I am the Princess of the Taiga.”

With just a few of the gems, there’d be so many enchantments for Twilight to try. Their ability to hold complex enchantments was unmatched among gemstones. Already, several ideas were popping up into her head: protective enchantments, or wards, or binding them to… Twilight was brought back to the dinner by Bonnie.

“‘Fraid not, deary.” Bonnie shook her head slowly. “Besides, discussing business at dinner isn’t what guests should do, don’tcha know?”

Ears hanging, Twilight tried to formulate a suitable response, but the conversation shifted and Bonnie’s attention was taken up with Hardy once more.

Twilight sat back and listened for a while, watching how the captains began trading stories of a chase they’d had in the south seas a decade earlier, running through storm and tossing seas. From this came such diverse topics as the colour of the Phoenixes of the Zebrican heartlands—white with gold tips on their wings—and the sailing characteristics of the captains’ previous commands.

“Well, Hardy, it’s been an experience. I’m glad I shifted course to cut you off,” an exceedingly drunk Bonnie slurred as dinner came to a close. With help Bonnie put on her hat. She waggled a hoof at Twilight, and added, “We’ll have to do this again, Twi, when you get home. You, me, and my Rarity. Hehehe, that rhymed. She goes on and on about you, ya know. I’d wonder if she didn’t have an eye on you, ’cept I know my filly has been enchanted by some coat whited… No, white coated… Some white coated… enchanterer… Enchanting Rarity… She’s suppose to do the enchanting...”

Bonnie gave a triumphant nod at having succeeded in saying her thoughts before being lead out onto the deck.

Given the hours of eating aboard ship—the captain’s dinner held at what land ponies would have considered afternoon tea—the sun was still up, though hanging rather close to the horizon. Twilight swore it was giving her a scathing look. Worry flashed through her that she was late for the evening rendezvous with her cousins. A quick check of her internal chronometer told her she hadn’t missed waking her stars, though a few were beginning to yawn and stretch.

Deciding it was all in her head, Twilight put Sol out of her thoughts, and found something curious; the sun wasn’t the source of her unease at all.

Before she could discern what was bothering her, Bonnie staggered over to Twilight and wrapped a hoof around her neck in a crushing hug that set everypony watching on their back hooves.

“You, yous take care now, Princess.” Bonnie drew the title out in a long slur and almost tipped over as she attempted to pat Twilight on the cheek. She then reached into her jacket and pulled out a small, lumpy package of folded parchment sealed with wax. “Here, deary, a present,” she said as she shoved the package at Twilight.

Taking it, Twilight was certain she’d find a Dragon Diamond within . A quick peek showed her to be wrong; it was all of the diamonds, their cut facets sparkling with an exceptional quality.

Hooves guided Bonnie to the edge as Twilight attempted to formulate a response. Rushing to the rail, Twilight called down a torrent of thanks as Bonnie was lowered in a sling to her bargemares. There were many shaking heads on the Bellerophon’s deck and the crew from the Sea Serpent gave their captain glares that never would have been countenanced among the navy.

When the barge had pulled out of earshot, Hardy gave his own head a shake at last. “Never have I met a mare so… frustrating. If only she’d joined the navy rather than taken to piratical trades.” He watched the barge continue across the bay a few moments longer, the water a wonderful orange-gold in the lessening light, before asking Twilight if she’d take a few turns about the deck with him. “My plans, Princess, have to change, sadly. I can’t risk resettling the ship’s stores with that lot sitting over there. I’m of a mind to weigh anchor at first light and ride out the Season traveling as originally intended.”

“I can guarantee they won't try anything, Captain.” Twilight gave him a very confident smile.

“Because you’re friends with Captain Bloodrose’s daughters?”

“Well… yes.” Twilight’s smile turned sheepish, the corners flattening a little. “I mean, I was as surprised as anypony to see her, as I’d been told she was in the business of wealth redistribution. I thought she was a merchant or maybe an investor. Part of the gentry, at least.”

Hardy raised a brow at Twilight’s assurance, but didn’t say anything.

A nervous clip to her words so they came close set, Twilight added, “But, yes, there is no way Celestia doesn’t know about Bonnie. Celestia, I’ve learned, doesn’t skip little details like what the parents of the ponies who will save her sister do for a living, or where they are. I wouldn’t put it past her to have been helping Bonnie in secret! Hehehe.”

“I’m not sure if I should be reassured or worried by that,” Hardy admitted slowly, chewing on his words.

“I could ask her, if you want?”

Hardy made to respond, but found Twilight had stopped next to the main yardarm braces, her eyes aglow, communing with Polaris to bring out the stars. Like every other evening since her awakening, the night began with stars bursting to life in waves that rippled and splashed through the heavens above Ioka.

Her task waking the stars complete, Twilight spun to speak with her cousins. They were some distance away, even as aetherial beings, but neither where Twilight expected. Luna, while above Equestria, was further east than usual. As for Celestia, it took Twilight a moment to discern her location: far, far to the south, right at the very edge of the disc.

Had Twilight a face, she would have frowned, and perhaps pinched her brows. Sol seemed equally curious, lingering with just a small sliver peeking over the disc a few seconds longer before fully vanishing into the umbra beneath Ioka. Twilight had to hurry as Celestia began at once to return to her body, eschewing their usual nightly discourse. Even Luna was leaving the heavens earlier than usual, descending back towards Equestria.

Grinding her teeth, Twilight concentrated on reaching Celestia before she became too hard to detect.

Perhaps sensing Twilight’s approach, Celestia halted her descent.

“Twilight, I’m afraid I cannot speak tonight,” Celestia called when Twilight drew close enough to hear, a distance that would have been many leagues if measured on the disc.

“Just a quick word!” Twilight slowed a little to let parts of herself catch up. She’d become spread out and thin in her race, lacking her cousins experience with her aetherial form. “Did you know about Rarity’s mother being a pirate?”

Celestia gave a little huff. “Oh, is that all? I’ve been aware, yes, and done my best to keep her out of trouble, often without success. Is there anything else?”

Twilight drew up short. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“No, I just need to get back. There is a rather persistent vetfrir that’s been stalking me all day.” Before she’d finished, Celestia was already leaving the heavens. She slowed just long enough to call back, “Twilight, I’m sorry. We’ve been fortunate to share so much time among the heavens of late, but it’s been an exception that is distressingly far from the norm. We’ll talk more soon, I promise.”

Then Celestia’s presence all but vanished as she crossed the threshold between heaven and sky.

Letting out a little sigh, Twilight whispered, “Okay, I’ll hold you to that promise,” before turning back to make the journey back to Greater St. Pansy.

A cluster of stars gathered around her as Twilight flew, forming the constellation of a chariot. Their antics brought a smile to Twilight, little sparks of happiness flickering in her wake and leaving a streak visible to all across the night.

She was still smiling when she began her own descent, pausing to thank her escorts before they returned to their natural constellations.

Blinking, Twilight found her body stiff and covered in a soft blanket when she finished her invisible fall. She also noted the scent of coffee, her stomach giving a little lurch at the smell. A quick glance around the deck showed the night watch going about their work in a grave silence, mares casting her little glances every now and then.

“Ah, you’re back,” Hardy noted when Twilight working a kink out of her wing caught his attention.

The offending coffee was his, of course, and he stood at his usual spot, marveling at the stars. The shine seemed all the more lustrous that night for Twilight’s extended stay in their midst.

“How long was I away?” Twilight attempted to ask, but only the first few words managed to work their way up her parched throat.

“Sol set about an hour ago.” There was a little clatter as he set his coffee down on the tray waiting atop Barrel Scraper’s back. “We were starting to grow worried. I daresay your conversation with Her Highness must have been interesting.”

Twilight’s wings snapped to her side and she looked away from the captain. Taking an offered glass of honey-sweetened water from the steward, she wet her lips. “Oh, um, I guess you could say that. Has it really been an hour?”

A simple glance upwards told her that, if anything, Hardy was rounding down and it had taken her close to half again as long. Her frown grew. It had seemed only several minutes to Twilight.

Shortly thereafter they parted company. Hardy’s violin soon filled the bay with a happy, bouncy tune accompanied by Timely on his cello. Twilight, Bonnie’s gift tight beneath a wing, went to check in on Rainbow, who’d fallen victim to the cruel predations of seasickness before dinner could begin.

The chorus of songbirds mingling with the general hum of conversation, interspersed with the laughter of foals dragged Trixie back to consciousness. Dull aches and pains found her next, criss-crossing in jagged lines or worked deep into her bones such that Trixie was both exhausted and unable to return to the blissful repose she’d left. In the final moments, she became aware of what had drawn her from her slumber. Trixie’s mouth and throat were dry, parched as if she’d been lost in the Great Dragon Desert, with her lips cracked and sore.

Her magic sputtered, a far sharper pain jabbing Trixie through her horn and making her yelp as she reached for the cup she always left next to her bed.

Breaths hissed through her teeth as she clutched her horn. No stranger to magical exhaustion—and the painful migraines that followed—Trixie spent several long, agonizing minutes allowing the throbbing to subside ever so slightly. The only remedy for magical exhaustion was the—in her opinion, horribly named—mana potion. She maintained a healthy stock of the foul-tasting concoction in her medicine box. All she needed to do was reach it without retching.

Cracking open an eye, Trixie discovered she wasn’t in her wagon. Rather, she was in a tent, one beneath the boughs of a tree from the shadows that played along its white canvass.

Odd, as from the amount of conversation and general hum of noise, Trixie was certain she was in a town. The lack of her wagon was also troubling.

Then memories of the previous day arrived in a flood.

The fight, Shyara almost drowning, the demon; it all came back in a confused jumble, the parts all out of order, but the sum the same. What stuck the most wasn’t the loss of her home or nearly dying, but the terrible, chilling fear of almost losing Shyara.

Bruised ribs protested as Trixie pulled herself out of the heavy wool blankets and towards the tent flap. Her head pounded more and more, the shrill laughter of playing foals only making it even more oppressive. Holding her breath, Trixie pulled the flap aside just enough to look beyond and found herself staring out over a field of… she wasn’t sure what, exactly.

Trixie thought of herself as having a greater knowledge of the disc than most, but the large, brown equines moving about and playing stumped her. She almost thought them to be deer, but the deer had vanished millennia earlier—smote by Celestia, or something. Or maybe it had only been a city. The legend was obscure and especially fuzzy that moment.

If her thoughts hadn’t been framed around an incessant pounding, Trixie might have remembered an old book she’d read about the halla. As it was, she could only focus on two things: finding Shyara, and wondering if it was possible her potion cache had survived the wagon’s tumble, being crushed, and subsequent sinking.

A sharp crack like two boulders smashing together stabbed into Trixie’s head and drove her to rump. Cheers and the stamping of hooves followed.

Head throbbing, Trixie pushed herself back up and out of the tent. Her tent was set on the camp’s edge, not quite apart, but not exactly in the camp either. More tents were set up next to the pond, its waters clear once more but also dark, as if it were reflecting the star speckled black of night rather than blue of day. On the far side lay the wreckage of her wagon in the reeds where it had landed during the fight. A pair of ravens sat on the remaining axle, their beady eyes peering back at Trixie.

A few of the halla noticed Trixie, but paid her little mind, carrying on with whatever they’d been doing. Trixie wandered into the camp. If Shyara was anywhere, it’d be where there was something interesting. That meant the source of the crashing and cheers, exactly where Trixie did not wish to go.

The noises emanated from the center of the camp, a dense ring of halla around the edges of a cleared area. Drawing nearer, Trixie’s nose prickled. A heavy musk hung in the air, one that made her tail itch and warmth spread across her face. Without being asked, the hinds made a spot of Trixie, more than a few casting her suspicious glances as if sizing her up before returning their attention to the ring’s center.

Her head nearly burst as another crack—far louder than any other—exploded from the center to the accompaniment of cheers, a few cat-calls, and stamping hooves. With watering eyes, all Trixie could see were several pairs of large brown blobs rushing at each other before another crack sounded, launching the crowd’s frenzy even higher.

A hoof tapped on her shoulder and somepony said in accented Equish, “You should be in bed, Trixie the Brave.”

Confused, but in no state to argue, Trixie nodded and allowed herself to be led from the ring and back to her tent.

“You should be proud,” River said as she pulled the tent flap aside. “You are the first pony to face a Doshaa and live.”

“That so?” Trixie muttered, her words slow and slurred. “Trixie, the Doshaa Slayer… That is a nice title.”

Tender hooves guided Trixie towards the sleeping roll. “Oh, no, not slain. It has retreated, no more, and will come soon enough for the goddess once again.”

Trixie’s renewed nodding, as well as her attempts to slide back into the sleeping roll were cut short, her head jerking sharply upright. “She’s coming back?” Trixie fell back on her rump, her entire body trembling.

“Of course. Demons are easy to kill.”

Pushed down into the sleeping role, Trixie twisted her muzzle in confusion while from the tent’s entrance a deep voice chuckled. “You forgot the ‘not’, River.”

Twisting his head so his antlers wouldn’t snare on anything as he entered, Mountain gave a slight nod to Trixie. From her position on the ground he seemed absolutely massive, a towering figure of muscle and tawny fur. Of their own accord her eyes traced the width of his withers, the size of his shoulders and hock, then dipped down to his—

She promptly looked anywhere else, a deep blush making her cheeks burn.

Trixie hated the season, and, with her head still pounding, she had even less control than usual. He wasn’t even a pony, she chastised herself several times, but a northern barbarian: one of the halla, renowned for taking mares and rav—

Again she shook her head to dislodge the thoughts, with predictable, prompt regrets.

River tutted at the stag and shot him a warning glare. “Mountain, you are making our guest not comfortable.”

“Hmmm? Oh, yes, I see.” He gave a slow, contemplative nod before starting to back out of the tent, only to stop and add something in a language Trixie couldn’t begin to decipher. He waited long enough to hear River’s response in the same language before departing.

A soft thud and the click of latches made Trixie realise she’d been staring at the tent flaps. The pop of a flask being uncorked further attracted Trixie’s attention.

River sat next to Trixie’s medicine chest, a mana potion floating at her side. “How strong?” She indicated the flask with a gesture of her small antlers.

Trixie didn’t bother answering. She scrambled back out of the sleeping roll, hooves fumbling for the precious vial. Taking the flask in her teeth, she downed its icy blue contents in a single gulp. Cool numbness—like she’d eaten an entire box of spearmint—washed through her mouth, spread down her throat and then up into her head. At last the pounding in her head dimmed.

“Thank you for retrieving Trixie’s potions,” she said once her tongue returned to life.

With her mind at last clear, it didn’t take long for Trixie to realise how lucky she’d been. Slowly, she lifted a hoof to her throat, the last moments of the fight clear.

A keres.

Trixie was certain it had been a keres she’d seen next to her wagon in the final moments of the fight. Suppressing the desire to squirm as if a plate of wriggling worms had been placed before her, Trixie asked, “How is Trixie not dead? She remembers… she should be dead.”

“Magic,” was the simple reply, one that drew a deadpan stare from Trixie.

“Of course, how silly of Trixie,” she huffed, her legs wobbling as she stood up. “Now, Trixie must find her…”

Her what? Trixie knew she had to find Shyara. She just didn’t know what the little goddess was to her anymore.

Calling Shyara her daughter felt wrong, though Trixie wasn’t sure why. She hadn’t been hesitant to claim Shyara as her daughter before.

Whether Trixie hesitated too long, or River sensed her unease, the halla let out a low, breezy sigh. “Her Grace mourns by the memorial.”

Trixie tilted her head. “Memorial?”

“She had us erect it for her. The little goddess said the spot needed to be marked in some manner, that it needed to be remembered.”

As she helped Trixie from the tent, River explained how Shyara had demanded they bring a large boulder from the woods to serve as a memorial. In the two days Trixie had slept after the fight, Shyara had not moved from the stone. She refused food or water, and only fell asleep when exhaustion took her.

They found her there still, contemplating the large, grey rock as if it held a hundred libraries worth of answers.

“She’s really gone this time.” Shyara’s voice was dull, lifeless, its drained tones yanking on Trixie far harder than she would have expected. More than just her voice, Shyara’s face was devoid of that inquisitive spark Trixie had come to know and rely upon. “Why didn’t you save her too? You’re a hero! You should have saved her! Or been strong enough to slay the demon. She didn’t have to sacrifice the last of herself…”

As quick as her anger came it faltered, Shyara’s wings drooping and everything about her seeming to wilt. There were no tears in the filly’s eyes, and somehow that made her dejection worse. It was as if Shyara had no will left at all.

“I’m alone. Really alone now. I’m surrounded by priestesses of an unknown alicorn, in a land I don’t understand, and being hunted by an actual demon. I thought I would be safe in this land.”

Trixie’s heart twisted in her chest. Kneeling, she grabbed Shyara’s shoulders.

“You are not alone, Shyara,” Trixie said, the firmness of her voice forcing the filly to lift her head. “I am not going to leave you.”

With a half-hearted swipe of her hoof, Shyara brushed Trixie off of her. “Don’t make an oath you can’t keep. Whether from age or something else, I will blink my eyes and you will be dead. You’re only a mortal, here for a few fleeting moments, then taken away.”

It was like a stone had been kicked into Trixie’s gut. She couldn’t reply, her mouth slowly working around a silent rebuttal as she held onto Shyara all the dearer.

“Your Grace, it is not right for a fawn to be so morose,” River said, though her tone was far from admonishing. “Especially one lucky as you to have such mothers. If you wish, I shall offer a prayer for her, and you.”

“No!” Shyara pushed harder against Trixie. “D-Don’t do that.”

Trixie offered River a sympathetic smile for the vehemence in Shyara’s tone. Shyara pressed herself a little harder against Trixie. The action made Trixie’s smile grow.

“We thank you, Mother River,” Trixie began, using the only honorific she knew for a High Priestess, “but we must move onward.”

Where they should go, Trixie had no idea. The nearby town was an obvious choice, but then where? Homeless—again—and with a monster that could possess ponies chasing them, where could they find sanctuary? The only remote possibility was if they caught a train to Lulamoon Manor and Trixie’s sister didn’t either toss her out, steal Shyara, or both in that order.

“I’m afraid that is impossible.” River clicked her tongue as she shook her head slowly. “I would be amiss if I let Her Grace wander off without adequate protection. It will be best if she joins the other fawns in the creche, until a more suitable arrangement can be made with somepony capable of seeing to her needs.”

“We’ll be fine. And if not, what does it matter?” Shyara snorted and, finally wriggling free of Trixie, headed towards the road. “If it is Fate’s design…”

Shyara didn’t get more than a few lengths before being picked up in a silver halo of magic. Floating upside down to River, Shyara gave several oaths, a few of which were enough to make Trixie’s ears turn red.

“Put me down, right now!”

“Yes, put her down.” Trixie added her voice to Shyara’s, along with a stamp of a hoof.

Eyes rolling, River glowered at Trixie. “This is in Her Grace’s best interest. It is up to you what you do. You may stay or leave as you wish, but Her Grace will be protected.”

“Trixie just said she wasn’t going to abandon her daughter.” Trixie made certain to add extra emphasis to ‘daughter’ hoping to provoke River. Instead, River marched past Trixie with the protesting filly in tow. Sighing, and not seeing any better options regardless, Trixie followed the pair.

Her mind turned over possibilities. Maybe in the nearby village she’d be able to acquire a new wagon. It wouldn’t be the grand affair of her old one, but so long as she could fill it with provisions and supplies, Trixie and Shyara could return to the road.

Despite the halla’s insistence that Shyara was safer among the northern giants, Trixie was certain that the herd would draw the princesses’ attention, if it hadn’t already. If Celestia or Luna discovered Shyara, they’d take the filly away from Trixie. A tightness spread through Trixie at the thought of losing the filly.

Resolved, Trixie returned to her tent to find her coin purse.

Sol bore down on Ponyville with an unseasonable heat. The skies were slated to be clear of clouds all week, their tone a gentle azure, and ponies took full advantage of the excellent weather. Picnic blankets dotted the park like freckles, couples stretched lazily across their checkered surfaces. Each couple was lost in their own world: many leaning against each other in the shade of a tree, a few kissing, and a few rushing towards their homes, playfully nipping at each other’s ears, tails swishing side-to-side.

Rarity watched the activity through the window of her small dining area, a furtive pinch on her muzzle, like there was an odd scent coming off the tea floating in front of her. She took a slow sip, rolling the bitter drink around her mouth as she glanced over to her clock.

Two weeks of frantic work had left her back tense, hooves sore, and a low ache behind her eyes. It also left her with stacks of neatly packaged parcels ready for express delivery to waiting clients as far away as Vanhoover. Abandoned designs littered her work area in a strewn field of coloured cloth and flawed gems, like a horde of rabid chipmunks had claimed it as a nesting ground.

That, or Sweetie Belle and her friends had been over to visit.

Rarity cringed as the image of the crusaders flashed upwards through her exhausted thoughts. Those three were so infuriating, and so precious with their precocious hijinks.

Her hoof tightened on the edge of the table in anticipation.

The clock striking the hour made her jump, ears flicking towards the ringing chimes.

As the last tones faded, Rarity let out a breath.

The voice had not come back.

Rarity’s eyes were drawn towards her corner table and the unsent letters within. Perhaps it was a good thing she had not sent them. What an embarrassment it would have been for Princess Celestia to read them only to then discover that it had all been in her mind.

A slight pinch forced her to look away from the table.

As much as Rarity wanted to believe it was only stress, she knew better. She tried to move towards the table. She started to slide from the chair only to stop, hoof trembling mid-air while muscles pinched down her back and up her throat. For a few moments she hung there, stuck between posting the letters and stewing in her own fears.

The moments stretched into minutes, and it was a bird flitting past the window that tipped the scales. Releasing her frustration in a harsh whinny, Rarity slumped back down, abandoning the attempt.

Defeated again, and unlike earlier attempts, she couldn’t even console herself at having managed to pick the letters up and getting out of her house before turning back.

A sip of tea calmed her a little. Or it would have, if it hadn’t been stone cold. Setting the cup down, Rarity mulled over the other tricks she’d developed.

Work seemed to help the most. It placated the fear, or at least focused her enough that it become little more than an itch just behind her ears. Throwing herself into her backlog of orders had been particularly effective.

Or, perhaps you were feeding me, my vain little lamb.

Rarity shot up on her seat, flinging her cup across the room to smash against the side door. Her heart fluttered, ice stabbing deep and spreading into her gut. She didn’t bother looking for the voice—not any more—and instead peered into the mirror next to the door.

Within it was a pony not unlike herself. The reflection’s horn was longer, and her mane was held in a style several centuries out of date. Its luminescent nature—each strand of hair glowing as if it were spun rubies, with strings of beaded obsidian weaved throughout—would have made mares envious and stallions burn with desire. All her beauty ended at her eyes, dark and cold, staring through Rarity as if she were nothing.

The reflection was there only a moment, and vanished in the span of a blink. Had Rarity not spotted the mare in other mirrors before she would have thought it a trick of the light, and the result of working too hard.

Sighing, Rarity pushed herself out of her chair to retrieve a dustbin and bucket. Attempting to converse or reason with the shade was pointless. She only ever spoke to Rarity in order to torment her.

“I wish Twilight was here.”

What Twilight could have done, Rarity didn’t know. If the shade could twist her enough that she was unable to post a letter, visiting Twilight and talking about her problem would have been immpossible.

Rarity liked to imagine that she’d overcome her fear, march right up to the library, knock on the door, and explain everything. Twilight would nod thoughtfully before retrieving a book containing the solution. A short excursion later—quick enough they’d be home in time for tea—and everything would be right on the disc again.

Sadly, Rarity didn’t see such a solution in her future.

A knock on the door—two demure taps with a slight pause between—brought Rarity out of her thoughts. Shoving the dustbin and bucket away, and pausing just a moment to make sure her mane hadn’t been affected by the mopping, Rarity headed to the door.

As she pulled it open, Rarity was confronted by a bonnet, garishly large and three seasons old. From the faint whiff of mothballs it carried, it was one kept in storage as well. Rarity recognized it at once, and she had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. “Fluttershy, darling, what can I do for you?”

“Um, do you mind if I come in?” Fluttershy pushed the bonnet up to reveal the tinted glasses she wore and shawl tied under her chin. At a wave from Rarity’s hoof, Fluttershy hurried into the kitchen.

“I need your help. Well, your opinion, really.” Fluttershy swept off her hat and gently deposited it on one of the seats before taking another.

Moving to the stove to prepare some tea, Rarity asked Fluttershy what was wrong.

“Nothing!” Fluttershy blurted out too quickly. Not commenting beyond raising a brow at her friend, Rarity let Fluttershy speak at her own pace. “Well, there is something. And it’s big. And bad. And… you remember what Twilight told us about Fleur and Athena?”

The kettle froze in midair halfway to the stove. Rarity stiffened, rigid with fright, like a hungry manticore had landed just a few paces away. Taking a calming breath, she smiled sweetly over her withers.

“Bits and pieces. What’s on your mind?”

“W-What if I knew a pony who, um, also had one?”

Heart hammering in her chest, it took all of Rarity’s control to ask what she meant. Fluttershy stared at her hooves, twisting them together on the tabletop.

“An alicorn’s essence. Inside them.”

“Oh.” Rarity let the word rush from her. The soft blue tint of her magic sputtered around the kettle, and she barely managed to avoid dropping it. Outside of her control, Rarity’s right ear twitched, along with the corner of an eye.

The dread grew deeper, colder, and Rarity darted a furtive glance towards the door wondering if she’d be able to escape through it without drawing suspicion. Her skin prickled across her back and legs, a rolling tingle that made her want to scratch.

Rarity knew the fear was the shade’s doing, but that knowledge held no power.

Using another deep breath to center herself, a futile gesture against such an oppressive grip, she made her way to the table, forgetting to light the stove. It was only through Fluttershy continuing to stare at her hooves that Rarity didn’t run from the room to find a cupboard within which to hide.

“This friend of mine. I’m worried for her, but I don’t know what to do. Should I tell the princess?”

“No!”

Fluttershy jerked back at the force of Rarity’s shout. Ears folded back, she glanced to a corner of a tile on the wall, a slight quiver to her lower lip.

Pressing her hat down on her head, Fluttershy slid from her chair and made for the door. “I’m sorry. It was a silly idea. The princesses couldn’t help Fleur, so I guess they won’t be able to help my friend, either. I’m sorry for troubling you, Rarity.”

Rarity wanted to call for Fluttershy to stop. To apologise. To tell her dearest friend everything.

But the words refused to come, and then Fluttershy was gone, the door clicking shut with a quiet finality.

It wasn’t too late. She could chase after her.

Slowly, the seconds ticked past, building to a minute, then two, and before Rarity was aware of how long she’d been sitting, staring at the door, the clock struck the hour again.

Hardy needn’t have worried about Bonnie and her pirates. Sol rose to a clear Monday sky, illuminating the Sea Serpent and her prize as they weighed anchor and set their course for the open ocean underneath topsails and gallants.

As they passed, Bonnie stood at the rail of her ship waving her hat and shouting, “If you reach Ponyville first, give my girls a kiss for me!”

The nearest port sympathetic to the Prench was more than a month away. Fleur clicked her tongue as she did some rather rough calculations. Even if the journey to Zebrica lasted shorter than expected, she had little doubt that Bonnie would make it back to Equestria first. Unless Twilight decided to forgo the weeks of sailing and just teleport home.

Twilight certainly had the raw magical power for such a spell.

If they found Athena’s daughter quick enough, there was a very real chance they could sail home before the end of autumn.

The odds of you ever seeing your home again are low, whispered Athena. If Leviathan is truly on this world, then Twilight and I will be like twins suns in the endless night of her domain. There is an unease in the air. The mortals can all sense it, and if the constant glances Twilight keeps casting to the sky is any indication, so does she.

“I’ve not noticed anything.”

You forget that I am restraining your fear, and, trapped as I am, my own senses are dulled.

“Fleur, you alright?”

With a start, Fleur twisted around to find Twilight standing behind her, a quizzical light behind her lavender eyes.

“Oui, Your Highness. I was merely discussing recent events with Athena.” Fleur gave a reassuring smile, only for it to falter as Twilight pinched her brow together.

“Athena? You are talking to her?”

Fleur tried to wave down Twilight’s concern. “We are alright, ma’am.”

We are far from alright, Athena huffed the same time Twilight said much the same thing. The princess used a wing to guide Fleur to the poop deck, where they could talk in something approximating privacy if they kept their voices low.

“How long has this been going on?” Twilight asked as she stared in one of Fleur’s eyes and then the other. “What other symptoms have you been displaying? I notice you’re on deck now. Her doing? Or—”

“Your Highness, one question at a time, s'il vous plait.” Fleur almost wished she were familiar enough with Twilight to clamp the princess’ mouth shut. Her interjection had enough of an effect that Twilight flattened her ears and muttered an apology. “It’s alright, ma’am, and I am grateful for you concern. I apologize for not telling you sooner. Every time I tried, something interrupted before I could reach you.”

In slow and exacting detail—mostly due to Twilight following every statement with a flurry of questions—Fleur relayed when she’d first started hearing Athena’s voice, and how Athena was able to quell her phobia. That last point proved to be a sticking point with Twilight.

“That is… unsettling, to put it mildly.” Twilight rubbed her chin, peering even harder at Fleur. “This is bad. If she’s able to alter your emotional state so profoundly… we should run some tests and get a new baseline.”

Twilight’s ear gave a couple flicks, like a fly were buzzing about it.

She is coming… Athena hissed at the same moment Pinkie appeared on deck.

“Twilight! Twilight! You have to go.” Pinkie crossed the deck in leaps and bounds, weaving her way through the ponies unstowing the hold with effortless ease.

“Pinkie?” Twilight twisted around to face her friend. “What’s wrong?”

Breathless, Pinkie skid to a stop and pointed the way she’d come. “I was helping Barrel Scraper shift the beets when my tail went all floppy, and there’s no time to explain—just trust me, Twilight, you need to go. Now!”

Both of Twilight’s ear flicked and she let out a slow, exasperated groan.

“Pinkie, just explain—”

“I told you! There is no time!” Pinkie threw up her hooves accompanied by a bitter snort. “My Pinkie Sense told me something bad is coming: and it’s coming for you, and Fleur, and Dashy.”

Stepping around Twilight, Fleur laid a hoof on Pinkie’s withers. “Mon amie, you are not making sense.”

“Just… look, they feel it too.” Pinkie jabbed a hoof at the crew, a few looking up at the clear sky with confusion, pinching their brows.

“Pinkie… It’s almost two thousand miles to my nearest teleportation anchor. While I could survive that trip, nopony else could. And I couldn’t get back.”

A little whimper, like that of a lost puppy, was all Pinkie gave, her ears and mane drooping as she looked past Twilight and Fleur to the waters beyond the bay. “She’s here.”

Fleur and Twilight turned together, uncomfortable pits forming in their stomachs. Fleur’s mane prickled from a low, menacing rumble accompanied by an ill screeching through her teeth.

She should have listened to the crazy one, Athena growled, her voice strained.

Waves slammed against the bar in rapid bursts, and, though Sol continued to shine uninhibited, the sky took on a dreary cast. Birds burst from the shore until they were like shrieking clouds, the noise of their wings covering the ship as they rushed away from the island.

Claws trailed down the back of Fleur’s neck, and she took an involuntary step back from the rail.

“You sense it too,” Twilight hissed through her teeth. It was a statement of fact, though the words carried a slight bite of question, as if hoping for a denial while knowing one was impossible. The princess ruffled her wings, eyes narrowed at the miasma on the horizon.

To the south, one of the island’s hills moved—a hill that hadn’t been there before. Fleur blinked a few times and told herself that the hill had to have been there before. Hills don’t move, after all. Light glinted off a thousand little edges, sparkling as if they were lost diamonds, then the hill sank behind the island.

“Twilight, show mercy,” pled a nearby seamare.

Twilight gave a little grunt, a second such prayer carrying across the deck, and placed a hoof to her head. Ankaa and Phad rose from her mane, with Antares between her sisters.

The trio took position between Twilight and the rail, their lights dangerous and saturated.

Be strong, Mistress, Antares said as to the west the hill that had previously been in the south reappeared.

Up and up, covered in dead white trees, it flowed. Not trees, but spines, Fleur realised, staring along with Twilight as the hill vanished once more, sinking into a turbid sea.

A gasp came from Twilight, the trio of stars darting to her. “They’re gone… No… Not gone… muffled. Something is muffling my stars.” Her eyes flashed with indignation, wings extending as if she were preparing for flight.

“Please, Twilight, take Fleur and Dashy, and go!” Pinkie grabbed Twilight’s head and dragged her down so Twilight’s face was pressed into Pinkie’s own.

Yanking herself away, Twilight’s ears flicked towards a distant crash of waves on the north shore. “I wont leave you and the ponies on this ship,” Twilight began to say, but stopped as several of the crew gave a desperate cry.

The hill had returned, now to the north.

As the hill vanished once more, drums rattled. Hooves rushed at the hammers sounding below as the ship beat to quarters.

Fleur’s mouth opened and closed a couple times, trying to form words that could be heard over the din of rushing ponies and shouting officers.

“Your Divine Highness, Ladies,” Fighting appeared out the crowd of preparation, taking off her hat as she spoke, “you should find refuge on the isle.”

“Refuge?” Fleur gave a bitter laugh, pointing a hoof to the mouth of the bay. “If that is what I sincerely hope it is not, no island is a refuge.”

Fighting frowned, but did not argue.

There was no time for such a plan, regardless.

The gnawing fangs in Fleur’s stomach grew to a feverish pitch as the sea began to rise and froth. Within the yellow foam twin lines of glowing emerald eyes opened, each a bottomless pit of churning envy. Tentacles like the arms of a giant squid slithered from the boiling sea, reaching higher than the Bellerophon’s masts where they writhed as snakes to a hidden tune. Patches of flesh glowed with a threatening blue light in columns down each tentacle, flanking segmented sheets of greyish-green chitin. Waves slid down the serpent's coils, sloshing against the hull as the ship wallowed in the airless day, and a pungent stench reminiscent of fish left to cook too long assailed the senses.

“It’s okay, mates. She’s too big to get past the sandbar!” came a jubilant cry from somewhere forward.

As if they’d heard the pony and taken offense, the tentacles plummeted in a rolling line, smashing the sandbar to open the bay’s mouth wide. The terrible thuds of the impacts preluded buffeting waves that sent everypony reeling. A few unfortunate mares failed to clap onto something before the surge struck. Holding onto the rail for dear life, Fleur watched with a pang of pity as the mares were sent careening into the deck guns or mast, a couple falling overboard. Timbers groaned under the assault, the deck slanting to a dangerous degree and, if not for the rise and roll of the swell the lower deck gun ports—opened to let in a fresh breeze—would have been underwater.

Before the Bellerophon could begin to settle, rows of eyes followed the waves into the bay. A dark patch of water, far wider than the Bellerophon, hinted at the immense length of the beast.

Fleur’s heart raced faster than it ever had before, and she prayed with all her might to Faust for deliverance.

And then the ocean smiled, leaving a gaping pit filled with a thousand teeth, capable of swallowing the ship whole.

“And so,” the beast within the ocean spoke in a voice low and consumed with ill humour, “The Stars have come at last to face me. Do you know me, little goddess? I, who made Love bitter and loathsome. I, who dredged such bitter tears from the Sun. I, who took the Moon and bent her into my weapon. I, who twisted Spring into forsaking the world. I... who devoured Harmony.”

“Leviathan.” Twilight stamped a hoof and spread her wings. “I am not afraid of you.”

Fleur balked at Twilight’s confidence. Over the past few days she’d overheard the terrified whispers and speculation swirling through the lower decks like a maelstrom. Leviathan was not something the sailors prayed to placate, not like they did for the blessings of the goddesses. To draw the great serpent’s attention was to invite death, as had happened to the unfortunate souls aboard the nameless wreck of the previous day. It was not bravery, but insanity to challenge such a power. Were all heroes so afflicted?

“Indeed?” The great serpent lifted her head clear of the frothing waters. Tentacles squirmed in a wreath from beneath the crest upon her brow. “Not even a little?”

“Well, more than a little,” Twilight conceded with an irate flick of her tail. “But, I am in control of my fear. I mean, everything about you seems to be designed to make ponies fear you.”

“Ha! It is not fear my form engenders, but Envy. For that is what I am.” Leviathan drew closer, a faux pout in her voice. “The little envies and the big ones too. The cold claw that clutches a mortal’s heart when they look on those with more power, success, or beauty. From the poor filly who sees one who is rich with a new toy, to the ugly shopkeep who desires the handsome stallion hanging off the pretty, vapid customer—that is me. What I exude, my dear Princess Twilight Abigail Sparkle Tuilerya, is power: the power to take whatever I so desire, whether a life or a bauble, or to deny such things to those I choose. And it is that power that is envied. Why, I can sense it in so many of those little sad creatures surrounding you.”

A cackle like the boom of a thousand drums washed over the Bellerophon, driving every ear flat and leaving a ringing as it passed.

The tip of a tentacle gave a pensive tap to Leviathan’s lip as she narrowed her eyes. “But, perhaps it is a bit much.”

Leviathan drew closer still, her form melting and becoming as the ocean. With a splash her head detached from her body and fell upon the deck, soaking all present.

Fleur wiped the water from her eyes with a disgusted snort.

Next to the rail stood a mare, a beautiful mare, long of leg and with a graceful poise to the curve of her neck and chin. Her seaweed-green and azure-blue mane and tail were braided with coral pins and draped over a coat of aqua hues that seemed to shift as she moved. Wings with long white-tipped feathers clung to her sides, almost touching her mark formed of an eye surrounded by a snake or serpent. Were it not for the corkscrew horns growing backwards from just between her ears, it would have been easy to believe her an alicorn.

“Is this better?” Leviathan asked, performing a little pirouette and curtsy. “I modeled it after your dear, precious Celestia, but with my own little touches. It isn’t too much, I hope.”

Gobsmacked, Fleur could do little more than stare mouth agape, an expression shared by all present. It took Leviathan taking a step forward to shake the ponies from their stupor.

Grinding her teeth together, Twilight advanced towards Leviathan. She’d just started to demand an explanation when she found herself pressed in on all sides by her guards, Weathered Scabbard at the front with blade drawn.

“Get the princess to safety,” Weathered commanded over her squared shoulders.

At the same moment Twilight began ordering her guards to step aside, Leviathan let out a low, dangerous giggle.

“My, aren’t you lot a delight! I am not here to fight your princess. All I desire is to get to know her. Perhaps we can even be friends.” Leviathan’s grin grew wider, a predatory glint flashing within her emerald eyes. “So, be dears, and go to sleep.”

Magic laced the final word, splashing across Fleur’s ears and leaving her light-headed. Struck by the spell directly, Twilight’s guards dropped like marionettes with their strings cut.

“Much better!” Leviathan smirked at the prone ponies, stepping over Weathered as she made her way past Twilight, the princess’ ears pressed flat and rage beginning to burn at their tips. “Don’t fret, precious, there is no need for rash action. They will be fine in a week or so. Besides, a fight between us… it would destroy this sad little spit of an island and this fine ship. These ponies? Dead.”

Leviathan flicked her tail underneath a nearby seamare’s nose as she approached where Rainbow and Fleur stood, holding Pinkie back.

A frustrated growl tearing through her throat, Twilight stalked after Leviathan. “So, what, you want us to have drinks? Discuss things like civilized ponies?”

“Of course she doesn’t!” Rainbow snapped, letting go of Pinkie to march a few paces forward. “She wants to kill everypony! Or enslave us all!”

Affecting a hurt tone, Leviathan responded with an exaggerated pout.

“What? Oh, Elysium knows I could do so. But my desires couldn’t be further from something as paltry as wanton carnage or slavery. I’m Envy, not Wrath. Even then my dear, lovely sister doesn’t seek to destroy all life. If we did so, whom would we tempt? Breaking one’s toys is not conducive to long term fun, now is it?” Leviathan patted Rainbow on the cheek like she were a foal that had just said the cutest little thing. “Besides, I’ve already won. My victory was completed so long ago that it is little more than a myth.”

Leviathan’s gaze drifted from Rainbow over Pinkie and settled on Fleur. “I won when I broke the prison your kind fashioned for my brothers, sisters, and I. All this? This is me enjoying my freedom.

“Although…” Leviathan paused in front of Fleur, her eyes taking a cold cast. It took all Fleur’s self-control to suppress a tremble as Leviathan let out a menacing hiss. “There is a pressing problem. One that concerns all of us.”

With a bounce, Pinkie bounded to Twilight’s side, Rainbow joining her on the other, with Fleur more hesitant, but advancing. “Don’t listen to her Twi! She’s the meanest of meanies! Nothing goo—”

A sharp crack like a bullwhip was followed by the tingle of ozone and spent magic. Fleur blinked and staggered away from the demon. She hadn’t been able to follow the formation of a spell, the casting had been so quick. There hadn’t even been a glow about Leviathan’s horns.

Beside Twilight, Pinkie was still talking, but no sound came from her mouth.

Rainbow was the first to notice, her face going pale as she took a few shaky steps towards her friend.

“Pinkie… your voice…”

Pinkie glanced at Rainbow then Twilight and mouthed a few words. It was only then that she realised she was mute. A frantic hoof scrambled at her throat.

“Calm down, Pinkie. Give me a moment to apply a counter-spell.” Twilight took Pinkie’s hooves in her own as she pulled together a counter spell.

As the glow faded from Twilight’s horn and Pinkie’s throat, Pinkie attempted to speak, and still no words came.

“It isn’t so simple to regain what I take, dearies.”

Amusement danced from Leviathan in a flowing, melodious roll. The sound of her laughter was both frightening and, somehow, a comfort, setting Fleur at ease. It reminded her of the bullies from her old boarding school, and the relief Fleur would feel when she’d see them picking on some other less fortunate filly.

“What did you do to her?” Rainbow demanded, her voice yanking Fleur out of her thoughts. Wings splayed, Rainbow lowered herself into a classic attack stance.

“I took her voice. That voice that so many of Ponyville envy, with its plethora of songs and ability to spread joy, laughter, and hope with just a few words.” Leviathan waved an airy hoof. “Now, join her in silence before I take your strength… or wings.”

Fleur shook her head. As expected, Rainbow ignored the threat. What the pegasus hoped to accomplish, when with a word Leviathan had hexed a group of royal guards, Fleur did not know.

Fire crackling in the corner of her eyes and at the tip of her mane, Twilight advanced past Rainbow. “Restore Pinkie at once!” The trio of stars darted down to their mistress as Twilight spoke, their lights growing pointed, heat to match hers flowing from them and over the ship.

“No. In fact, I think I will take her… and them too.”

Quick as a cobra, Leviathan struck. There was a bang, a searing flash that made everypony save Twilight cry out in pain, then a groan from the Bellerophon as the ship shifted beneath their hooves.

As her vision returned, Fleur saw Twilight on her side, the princess’ face scrunched up and grey.

Once more the great serpent, Leviathan held Pinkie in her clutches, and the trio of stars that had come to Twilight’s defense.

“You should be more careful with your stars, young goddess. The disc is no place for them.”

Twilight struggled to her hooves, legs trembling and jaw tense.

Fleur didn’t know what to do. She was just an ambassador. Facing down the mundane evil of diplomats was far from confronting a queen of Tartarus. Athena might have been able to lend aid. Why the goddess remained silent puzzled Fleur, and only added to her confusion and doubt.

It turned out that there was nothing to do, as Leviathan began to withdraw from the harbour.

Over the water she called, “Bring Celestia, Luna, or any other alicorn, fostered, awakened, or dead, into this little game and I will crush your laughter.” Leviathan began to sink beneath the waves, a parting laugh rolling over the Bellerophon. “You should be honoured, Twilight Abigail Sparkle Tuilerya. You are the first I have taken a direct interest in humbling in a very, very long time.”

The last sight any pony had of Pinkie was her reaching out a hoof towards her friends, her eyes so wide and frightened... and then she was gone, pulled beneath the waves.

Author's Note

Additional editing provided by Cerulean Voice

Book One: Chapter Fourteen: The Lost City

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Chapter 14: The Lost City

Four hours. It had been four hours since Leviathan vanished with her captives.

Bellerophon raced across the open sea, guided by Twilight towards some point in the distant east. There was an undercurrent of apprehension among the crew as they hurried to shift the sails for what seemed the hundredth time while the officers continually shot glances to either the princess as she stood near the capstan, eyes fixed on the miasma of the horizon, or to Hardy. The captain kept vigil at his appointed place along the leeward rail, ears attuned to the sound of the water speeding beneath the hull, the creaking of the double-backed stays, and the warmth of Sol as the sun approached high noon and the ship’s position would be fixed.

Hardy knew that they had run over forty nautical miles in the time since the ship had made her way out from the channels and spread her full, towering spread of canvas. The winds and sea seemed to want the ship to hurry, both complying to create the sweetest sailing he’d known in many years.

The Bellerophon loved the conditions, her roll for once smooth with a pleasant stiffness.

“Coffee, Sir, and toasted cheese sandwiches. Best be eating it while hot, sir,” commented Barrel Scraper as the steward came with the ritualised meal. She stopped only long enough for the captain to take his cup and give a stiff, “Thank you,” before heading towards the princess.

Twilight accepted her tea with a mute nod that spoke her gratitude far more than any word could and bit into the warm and gooey lunch. Barrel Scraper gave her wide, broken toothed smile in response, delight dancing across her typically miserly face.

“Don’cha be worrying, ma’am, you’ll get your stars and lady Pie back.” There was such firm belief in the old steward that it made Twilight feel a little more at ease. “That overgrown snake don’t know the trouble she’s brought on her head, no she don’t.”

“I should have stopped her then.” Twilight’s hoof trembled against the deck and her wings shot out, almost knocking down Barrel Scraper. “Everyone is in danger because of me.”

“If’n you pard’n my saying so, but that’s fucking nonsense, ma’am.”

Twilight’s head shot up at the vehemence in the steward’s rebuttal, as well as the vulgarity. It had long become apparent to her that the old saying of ‘swears like a sailor’ was very apt, but the crew made such an effort to curb their natural predilection towards profanities that none had ever sworn in her presence.

Working her mouth soundlessly, Twilight gaped at the steward.

“Ain’t going to be gentle with you, ma’am, not when you be needing a good fire in your belly.” Barrel Scraper began to leave, a fatalistic glint in the corner of her old eyes. “We be sailing towards a battle only you know how to fight. Won’t do for you to be beating yourself up none.”

Staring after Barrel Scraper until the steward vanished below deck, Twilight wondered if what she’d been told was correct.

Yes, Twilight had fought mad gods in the past, but she wasn’t alone in that distinction, even aboard the ship.

Her eyes flickered to Fleur, the ambassador standing in the crook next to the cabin door and stairs to the poop deck. While Fleur had no experience in such matters, Athena had arguably more than perhaps any other pony on all Ioka. Twilight had read the dream journal, and while there were no direct descriptions or dreams of battles, many were mentioned.

With Athena gaining the ability to directly speak through Fleur, it was certainly possible to ask her advice. Though the advice would probably be along the lines of ‘chop off Leviathan’s head’, or ‘abandon the pink pony and stars.’

Perhaps sensing Twilight’s eyes on her, Fleur shivered then glanced up at the sky before vanishing into the cabins.

“Ah, princess, I’m glad to find you about.” Timely’s voice carried to Twilight as he approached, saddlebags clinking with his steps, a slight a lurch in the ship’s motion sending him against the rail.

“What is it?” Twilight asked with a bit more annoyance than she intended.

Either not caring or failing to note Twilight’s disposition, Timely gave a little laugh, the unpleasant wheezing sound setting Twilight’s teeth even more on edge.

“I came to give you your daily tincture, of course.”

“My… Oh. That.” Twilight flicked her head away so the doctor wouldn’t be able to see the very slight blush creeping along her cheeks. Many an eye on the deck watched the doctor, lurid fantasies no doubt dancing through the mares. Not that Twilight was in the least affected by the season.

She’d never been that prone to the season even when a unicorn. Her first couple she’d been only vaguely aware of a slight itch along the back of her mane and in her hooves. True, she’d been caught up in her studies so that the season was at best an irritant. Looking back on her pre-awakened life, Twilight had been very cloistered. Ponyville had broken her out of her shell, but she’d still submerged herself in her scholarly pursuits much of the time.

An irate flick of her tail set her to pacing, criss-crossing the deck in front of Timely as he watched with his amused, watery grin.

There were so many questions she had about herself that still needed to be answered. Questions about basic things like her earth pony magics, which she still hadn’t even begun to explore, to the more complex, like what, precisely, was her relationship to the stars.

She’d claimed that they were a part of her, and Twilight knew this to be true, but also wrong. The stars had existed long before her. They’d even been bound to Luna at one time. Had Luna also been the stars? And if she had, did that mean Twilight could stop being the stars? Leviathan had even managed to steal three of them, something Luna had claimed was entirely impossible.

A low growl lodged itself in Twilight’s throat as she glanced for the hundredth time towards the miasma that clung to the horizon.

“Princess, you need to relax,” Timely said as he pulled out one of his cigars. “The captain and crew are doing everything they can. Why, they’ve run out the… the… um, skyscrapers I do believe. Those extended sails on either side giving us such prodigious width and speed.”

“I know that,” Twilight snapped, coming to a sharp halt. She fixed Timely with a withering glare, burning with the pent-up frustrations and fears that swirled through her like a knotted storm. “But I could go so much faster alone. They are very, very far away and it’s like we’re newborn foals crawling towards our destination.”

Her temper only brought a long chuckle from the doctor. Flicking a flame cantrip, he lit his cigar and gave it a few puffs, all the while giving his head a slow shake.

“And so, you would take wing and fly out after the Great Devourer? Across the empty ocean? Alone?”

“Yes!” A thump of her hoof accompanied her declaration, Bellerophon groaning under the force of the blow. Blushing a little, Twilight said in a quieter, though no less forceful, voice, “Of course I could go faster alone. The only pony aboard who could keep up is Dash.”

“Indeed. And where will you bed when your search is not initially fruitful? Or eat? Will you pop back to Canterlot? Explain to the princesses and the queen how Leviathan is back? Or dance around the issue? May I remind you of her threats should any of your relatives become involved.”

“So, I should just sit here? Do nothing? Or, do you think I should ignore her and get Celestia?”

“On the contrary, what I know of your earlier exploits and from this month at sea, I would say you are more than able to confront these challenges without the aid of your cousins. Indeed, when have they ever been directly involved when not your antagonist?”

Twilight frowned at the doctor’s statement. She didn’t like thinking of Luna as an enemy. That had been the Nightmare, a pony who’d stolen Luna.

“And besides, you possess the Book of Spring. Penned by the Marelantians themselves, if rumour is true. That quote you gave the other day was from it, I do believe. What does it have to say on these matters? Surely, it must bear some insight into the nature of the enemy.”

“Well…” Twilight gave the doctor an appraising look. What he was trying to accomplish was obvious. Yet, there was a genuine look of curiosity on Timely’s face, a glimmer of excitement present in the corner of his eye at the prospect of sharing knowledge. “With all that’s happened, I’ve not translated anything new.”

“Surely, there is something that might be pertinent. Some clue as to how the ancients contained the beast, for she has not been out and about snatching ships since the mythical era.”

Twilight gave a resigned sigh, and allowed herself to be distracted by the questions. It was better than wallowing in impotent rage.

“I… don’t know if she was contained or not. That passage was the last mention of her. Mostly, it seems concerned about either history or the functions of certain spirits as filtered through parables. I’m not sure what I was expecting. The Book of Names has all the stuff about the Great Sins and Harmony, and the Book of Sol has that part that makes a big deal of Celestia’s stand against Amon.”

Timely nodded slowly, “The Marquis of Fate. The Books of Sol and Selene claim the sisters cast him down shortly before the Long Winter. One of their first and most substantial victories.”

With a shrug of her wings, Twilight rested her forehooves over the rail. “I’m not sure I put much stock in the Books of Sol or Selene. Celestia’s never bothered to keep either around and always rolled her eyes when I mentioned them.” Twilight paused, frowning as she recalled her final visit to Canterlot before all the madness of her Awakening had begun.

She’d been so excited to discuss many of the revelations within the Book of Selene, and how they corresponded to passages within the Book of Sol. Twilight had asked about the differences in the descriptions of Celestia and Luna’s battle with Discord. The Book of Sol painted it more as a grand, glorious affair. Celestia’s greatest victory! Where in she cast down the mad god with fiery rain and blazing power. In the Book of Selene, the battle had been won with wits, Luna and Celestia tricking the beast before imprisoning him using the Elements.

Celestia, however, had just laughed at both versions and told Twilight not to trust the Holy Books. ‘Propaganda’, she’d labelled each.

The ease of Celestia’s dismissal of the books put a crack of uncertainty in Twilight. If Celestia, who prized knowledge and history so much, held such disdain for the books that supposedly detailed her and her sister’s early lives, than maybe they couldn’t be trusted.

She wondered if the original Books of Sol and Selene were as biased as the modern translations.

Realising she’d been staring too long out over the ship’s bow-wave, Twilight gave her head a sharp shake and turned back to Timely.

“There’s also a lot that is just odd or doesn’t make sense in the Book of Spring. I’ve found dozens of references to something called an ‘eclipse’, for instance, but the context just doesn’t fit.”

Twilight scratched at the side of her head with a hoof. She knew who to ask for an answer, but she wanted to figure the puzzle out for herself. To that end, she continued, talking more to herself than Timely.

Every little detail Twilight had uncovered, theorised, or tossed out was gone over; again, and twice more after just to be thorough. The passage in the Book of Spring she’d partially translated going; ‘Beneath the total eclipse their magic did grow wild. Fire took to the rivers as it would a branch. Mice hid between the cat’s paws, and birds refused to enter the sky.’

Naturally, Twilight then had to detail every little theory pertaining to the creation of wild aether fields.

It was during her second revisiting on the potential implications of such a field that Timely had to leave to tend to his duties in the sick-berth. Twilight hardly noticed his hours long absence, so intent was she on puzzling out the meaning of the word. She was like a cat plucking at a ball of twine, pulling the threads apart.

“Maybe this is in part how the Everfree was created,” Twilight continued breathlessly some time after Sol had set and she’d awoken her stars. Timely had returned a little bit before carrying a plate of fried vegetables, and listened with a polite ear. “When Celestia used the Elements to ‘eclipse’ Nightmare Moon, it created a wild field of anti-entropic magic!”

She was still covering every possible nuance when she was lead aft to her cabin, a wide yawn spreading across the deck and her eyes heavy with the anticipation of sleep.

It took her a short while to find sleep. Her mind was too active, too taken up with thoughts that darted this way and that, never settling enough to be properly analyzed. One moment she was reproaching herself again, the next she was turning over the problem of the eclipse once more.

In the end, Twilight was lulled into the comfort of dreams by the music floating through the thin walls dividing her from the great cabin. The captain and doctor were in fine form as they tuned their instruments and then went straight into an aggressive piece, the doctor’s cello’s deep tones leading the sharp notes from the captain’s violin. Rising up, the improvised music lacked only drums for a truly martial air, one eager for the coming dawn and reclaiming what was stolen. Twilight smiled at the sentiment behind the music.

All through the night the Bellerophon ran. Not a stitch of canvas was touched until the early hours of the first watch when a sudden drop in the barometer and a backing of the wind heralded a series of tightly packed squalls. One by one they rolled over the ship in a marching procession, bringing heavy rains and winds that rolled around from every edge of the disc.

Water gushing from her scuppers, the Bellerophon forged through the squalls, and by dawn she found herself in a barren stretch of water, the surface only a little perturbed by the bad weather. Not a sail was to be seen in any direction, and even the miasma of the horizon drew closer. The last of the squalls was only a dark line to aft, and ahead there was a bank of equally dark cloud.

Twilight and her friends slept through the night’s activities. Even Fleur managed to avoid jerking awake, the deep groans of the ship more comfort than concern.

Rolling Holler had the deck when Twilight emerged, pulled from her daze by the pressure of her stars and something else. Blinking away the crusty remains of her dreams, Twilight peered up at the wonderfully mulberry sky, put the stars to bed, and then lowered her gaze to a wine-dark sea.

She blinked again, and squinted at the cloudbank ahead.

Beneath the cloud she could sense… something. Her stars, yes, but there was a different undercurrent to the feeling, one that nagged at her like a filly pulling on her wings.

As if she were a fish on a line, Twilight was jerked forward and stumbled against the rail with a frustrated nicker. Grinding her teeth together, she peered at the fog of the horizon, that region where the unusual red ocean melded into a grey band before giving way to the golden hues of Sol’s ascent.

“Ah, P-Princess, ma’am.” Rolling Holler tapped a hoof to her hat as he approached. “Good morning. Is there anything you, uh, need?”

Twilight glanced at the stallion for a moment, frowning at his slightly unkempt appearance. His mane stuck out from the normally tight plaits in tufts or hung from the edge of his cap in a scraggly shroud. Bags hung beneath his eyes, and it was clear that he was in need of sleep.

Yawning, Twilight said there was nothing she required before returning to her perch near the starboard anchor.

Around nine, as Twilight reckoned time, or just after two bells in the forenoon watch, Rainbow came up with some breakfast.

Closer and closer the ship drew towards the cloud, now recognisable as a fogbank, one that stretched from the ocean to the belly of the sky, covering a wide swath of water in a blanket.

A niggling sensation crawled along the base of Twilight’s neck, settling between her wings, like she was being watched. Not by the crew—Twilight was used to having their eyes constantly on her, even when no-pony was looking in her direction—but by something else far older and more powerful.

“There is an alicorn ahead,” Twilight whispered to herself, her sudden words making Rainbow give a little start.

“What? The princesses? Here?” Rainbow snorted, casting a suspicious glance at the cloudbank. “You think that serpent got ‘em too?”

Twilight shook her head. “No… I don’t recognise this one. It could be one of the others who fell with Tyr… Maybe Leviathan captured them?”

Rainbow shrugged in return.

“You don’t think they’re working with her, do you?”

There was no answer Twilight could give. All she had were guesses formed around the certainty that somewhere near, within the approaching cloud, was another of her kind.

Around Twilight the watches shifted, Fighting Spirit by the wheel while Hardy took to his habitual pacing. Fleur joined Twilight and Rainbow, though she said nothing. Her mouth pressed into a slight frown, she watched the horizon with the same intensity as Twilight.

Closer and closer the Bellerophon drew to the unknown alicorn.

Nearing the fog, the sails were reefed one by one until the ship drifted forward more on inertia. There was a heavy stillness in the air, the crew and officers collectively holding their breaths.

Slowly the fog parted, clumps of white drifting like specters across the unnaturally still water. The seamares grew tense, eyes straining to see what lay ahead. A black smudge within the fog gradually appeared, spreading infectious tendrils through the nearby grey-white. With each moment the shadows behind the fog grew more distinct as the Bellerophon drifted further and further into the grey.

Death was heavy in the air, saturated within the drifting mist. A rank mix of rotting fish, seaweed, and foul mud clung to the senses, and many of the officers held cloths dipped in incense to the noses to avoid the smell while the crew made do with their neckcloths or bandanas

“Celestia, bring us mercy,” Fighting prayed from her spot beside Hardy.

Hers was not the only prayer being uttered.

Bit by bit, shadows resolved growing tall and proud, a pair of towering, draconian figures. Twilight held her breath, and readied a defensive spell in the middle-reaches of her mind. Close enough to be called upon within a moment, but not enough to give a hint of her intention.

Such a spell proved unneeded as the fog parted and the figures were revealed to be nothing more than skeletons clinging to worn, bare stone, blackened by fire and held fast by a layer of briney sediment and slime-mold. Each of the skeletons were massive, belonging to dragons that had been at the height of their power and prestige when they died. They would have rivaled the Bellerophon in length and breadth. Here and there a few scales, bright red or burnished bronze poked out through the stinking prison of sludge pooling at the base of the skeleton’s perches where stone met the water.

“Thesimerika and Tritaniketh,” Twilight whispered the ancient names, forgotten except for within the Book of Spring.

They’d been Marelantis’ guardians, forced into servitude through powerful magic by the sorceress-queens. It had been Thesimerika that had first spoken to Iridia and Faust when the pair—still just fillies—had arrived on the island’s shore, half-dead and clinging to a piece of driftwood following their escape from a band of pirates that sank the ship carrying them across the sea. She’d also been the first struck down by Leviathan as the fell queen was summoned from Tartarus.

Bellerophon drifted between the guardians’ remains, the ship silent save the slight groan of her timbers. Loose rocks skittered down the perches to land with a plonk. A few of the crew nickered and backed away from the rail, casting the skeletons wary glances before returning to their posts.

Then the fog parted in its entirety revealing the lost city of Marelantis.

Once, Marelantis had been among the greatest creations of ponykind on Ioka or any of the myriad worlds beyond. A shattered shadow was all that remained of its former glory. A memorial to the pride and folly of the ancient ponies. In her prime, she’d been a city of proud spires that reached like a forest of alabaster, crystal, and gold for the very stars Twilight guided. Bridges soared like jeweled branches between the towers topped with open galleries that seemed to float among the clouds for a canopy. Few of the city’s towers remained standing, destroyed either when Leviathan had originally sunk the island, or when she’d forced it back to the surface. Their broken remains were strewn across the once wide avenues and the tops of neighboring buildings. Entire districts had been flattened, or drowned in thick, pale grey mud.

The ruins sat on a flat plain beneath the gaze of a twin peaked volcano. One peak sat dormant, while a reddish glow emanated from within a thick, black plume of ash rising from the other. Lurid lightning crackled along the plume’s edges like vibrant snakes darting through embers. A river of glowing magma trickled over the caldera like blood oozing from a wound that refused to heal. The fiery river cut through the bones of a long dead jungle that covered the island before emptying in the large bay Bellerophon had entered. Drying seaweed hung in drapes from the petrified branches in a mockery of the life the jungles had once possessed.

Twilight shivered her own gaze dropping from the gehennan glow above the island to those forlorn ruins.

Again came the sensation of being watched, and the familiar tingle of a nearby alicorn.

Turning to Fleur and Rainbow, Twilight gave a determined grin that hid the flutter of doubt beating deep within her breast. “Wait here, I won’t be long,” she said at the same moment the call to drop anchor washed across the deck.

Before she could leap over the side, Rainbow’s teeth clamped down on Twilight’s tail. Coming to a sharp stop, Twilight fell forward, her chin striking the rail with a loud thud in the same moment the anchor splashed down and sent up a spray of brine. Twilight blinked, surprised that the blow, which should have jarred her teeth and sent pain down her neck, hadn’t hurt at all.

Twilight cast a sharp glare back, only mildly surprised to see Rainbow’s teeth still clamped on her tail.

“What was that for?” Twilight demanded as she yanked her tail free.

“To stop you from being stupid. I’m the one who rushes off without thinking, Twilight!” Rainbow snapped, pressing her face up into Twilight’s. “I know that’s what you were going to do! And when has it ever worked out for you?”

“Well…” Twilight’s ears drooped a little and she shifted on the spot, scratching one forelock absently.

Rainbow had a point. On all her adventures she’d always had her friends. Though half their group was thousands of miles away, and Pinkie captured, there was no reason for Twilight to go it alone.

Except…

“This is Leviathan,” Twilight protested, thrusting a hoof towards the ruins.

Rainbow lifted a brow.

“So?” Rainbow put on a big grin, the one she used before a race or fight. “Nightmare Moon, Discord, a changeling army; that snake’s going to be no different. Or, is this because you’re an alicorn you think you don’t need us anymore?”

Twilight took a step back like Rainbow had revealed a branding iron.

“Of course not!” She sputtered trying to come up with a reply, before saying, “But… There is just the two of us!”

Rainbow snorted, rolled her eyes, and then gestured towards the crewmares, trying very hard not to appear to be listening, with a sharp jerk of her head. One poor mare, doing a worse job of containing her curiosity than her mates, was startled by the bo'sun.

Shaking his head slowly, Hardy loosed a long snort as he came up to Twilight and Rainbow. “I would prefer if you remained on the ship, your Highness. Since that is no more likely than me sprouting wings in the next five minutes, all I ask is you stay with the landing party.”

Before Twilight could protest, Hardy shouted for the Polished Armour to put together a contingent of his best and for Poetic Verse the third watch.

“You will at least have good company,” Hardy smiled before returning to the starboard rail of the quarterdeck. From there he watched the boats readied and filled with a sage eye.

Hanging her wings in defeat Twilight was further surprised when Fleur was the first pony down into the boats. The ambassador had to be helped to settle near the aft of the cutter next to the tiller, and she wore a terse expression, one ear flicking at the slightest noise.

All in all, between the sailors, marines, officers, and supposed supernumeraries, almost a hundred ponies crammed themselves into the boats. There were plenty of noise during the short trip to shore, the mares at the oars urged to ‘stretch out’ and ‘mind their stroke’ before they skidded up the beach.

It was not sand that greeted Twilight as she jumped over the side and splashed down into the shallow water, but mud. The entire beach was a soapy morass of mud mixed with bits of stone varying in size from pebbles to some as big as a pony’s head. Her fetlocks were hopelessly soiled before she’d gone more than a few steps, and Twilight had to stop to remove her shoes lest they be sucked off and lost.

“Find us a place to set up a camp,” Poetic Verse called to Sheltered Bank, the midshipmare setting off with a few burly sailors towards the nearest ruins.

The air was thick and heavy with the stench of drying seaweed and dead fish mingling with the mud’s own, particular smells. Conjuring a scented cloth to cover her nose proved futile.

“Are all your adventures like this?” Fleur asked as she came up to Twilight. She cringed at the mud clinging to her legs.

“Can’t handle a little mud there, ambassador?” Rainbow smirked, flying along backwards.

Shaking off a large glob in Rainbow’s direction, one that was easily avoided to the accompaniment of a cackling laugh, Fleur said, “Au contraire, this is like visiting the spa.” She then gave a little start, and glanced around the landing. “Athena is… concerned, your Highness. She claims Leviathan will attempt to draw you away before springing whatever traps she has laid.”

“Well, duh,” Rainbow snorted as she flipped around to peer at the empty roads. “They always try that divide and conquer nonsense. Won’t stop us from kicking her flank for taking Pinkie and Twi’s stars. Right, Twi?”

Twilight shrugged in response, her attention pulled towards the distant palace from which the presence of the other alicorn emanated. There was something vaguely familiar to the sensations crawling over her wings.

Leaving a smaller group to tend to the boats and mount a trio of swivel guns on the roof of what once might have been the dockmaster or a cafe, the rest of the shore party made their way inland. The going was tough with the slurry-like mud growing deep enough to reach their knees. By the time they reached the first of many plazas everypony was absolutely covered so they were an almost uniform grey.

There was no indication of any other pony or being on the island, but all could feel eyes watching their progress. Several times Twilight thought she saw movement in the corner of her eyes. Each time it proved to be nothing more than a reflection or trick of a shadow in the large, open upper windows of the homes. The complete lack of birds or even insects lent the island an entirely unnatural air that further spread a creeping dread along the ponies’ necks.

“Ain’t right, no it ain’t. Islands shouldn’t pop up like gophers in the middle o’ the sea,” muttered one seamare to her mate, checking the strap holding her arbalest and spare bolts.

Only a few of the seamares carried such weapons, most preferring the heavy war-shoes earth ponies had used in all their martial professions since time immemorial. Made of heavy steel or iron shaped into greaves, straps kept them from sliding, while the bottoms slid into grooves in the mares’ standard, working shoes, the ones nailed into their hooves by the ship’s farrier. At that moment, their boarding shoes hung over their backs by bits of string or rope, lest they be lost in the mud.

How they would get them on in time if there was a fight, Twilight did not know. But she admitted to not knowing a fair bit about earth pony customs. She supposed that they were used to putting the shoes on in a hurry and tightening the straps that went around the canons.

She took a deep breath as they began to mount a pile of shattered masonry from one of the collapsed towers. The afternoon grew thick and hot, pressing against Twilight like a pungent blanket. A lather worked up along their backs, with a few of the older seamares wobbling on their hooves so that the company had to take a rest in the shade provided by an intact tower. There they passed along cantines of fresh water. Only once Sol had settled a little further to the east did they resumed the trek towards the palace.

Through it all, the presence of the other alicorn grew and grew.

It was like a claw running down the base of Twilight’s spine. A not entirely unpleasant sensation, it, nevertheless, made concentrating on her surroundings difficult.

Her gaze kept being pulled away.

Distracted by her thoughts, Twilight didn’t realise when they crossed into the temple district where the seven temples to the Marelantian’s gods stood. Their names were unrecorded, decried as false by the Book of Names, only the broad generalities of their domains recorded; Cunning, Time, the Hearth, the Forge, Vengeance, Light, and finally Magic. Together, the temples formed a septagon around the palace, with the only road to the palace leading from the Temple of Magic.

The ground was far clearer there, the mud barely an inch thick and drying fast into a hard shell. Here and there statues watched them pass, hundreds of them lining the streets, placed on every corner of an intersection, and looming over from the temples’ vestibules.

Other than size, each statue was the same; that of a unicorn with two faces on their head; one forward, the other backwards.

"It's a statue of a Janus," Twilight said, using her hoof to wipe some of the mud from the face of one statue. "I read about them in The Massive Manual of Mythical Monsters. The Janus were believed to guard the Temple of Fate. It is said they were able to see both the future and past with equal and absolute clarity."

Twilight gazed up at the statue for a few more moments before she turned away and continued deeper into the ruins.

"Come on everypony, the stars should be just up ahead."

A deathly pall hung over the ponies as they followed the princess and her friends. A few of the crew looked anxiously back towards the Bellerophon, the tops of her masts just visible like a trio of bare trees, before they continued.

Twilight lead the way up the hundred steps of the palace, as she was in turn pulled by a faint glimmer of her missing stars. Along the connection Twilight received a warm glow of confidence, and she was certain Antares was gloating. The pull brought her to a set of doors five times her height and encrusted with grime.

“Stand back, everypony,” Twilight called out to the seamares as she charged magic along her horn.

A blast of magic, intended to shove the doors open, instead rebounded across their surface in a deep, booming clang that filled the whole courtyard for what seemed like minutes. The drying crust of dirt cracked and fell in a cascade of grey to reveal the most beautifully complex set of wards Twilight had ever laid eyes upon.

Comprised of a thousand unique runes etched into solid aurichalcum, with pictographs incorporated into the lines of the runes themselves, creating eight broad regions bursting outwards from an overlaid image of Sol and Selene.

At the top was imagery that could only be associated with magic, lines of unicorns dashing this way and that around areas depicting spells raising or lowering mountains. One of the larger images contained what seemed to be a floating, inverted mountain.

Sandwiching the topmost panel were images that had to belong to the Marelantians beliefs of Life and Time, depicting what appeared to be the same pony being born, going through life, and then eventually dying before flowing through a river to begin it all again. While energetic in her youth, the unicorn grew slow and slothful near the end of her journey before a cloaked pegasus came to claim her and escort her to the river.

To the far left were images of kings and queens with nobles beneath, followed by an army, and lastly, peasants working in fields and mines. All were connected by snaking waves, with ponies pulling down those above to take their places, or forcefully repressed with spears, magic, or scrolls.

On the opposite side were unicorns beautiful, strong, or wise in depiction. Some held aloft items wreathed in lightning or shining with sunbeams. Underneath was a scene from a game of some-sort, or perhaps a battle, with two sides charging one another framed by goals, or iconographs for cities.

The left and right bottom quadrants were given to Vengeance and Metalworking respectively. While one showed a multitude of punishments, from the barbaric to the plain, the other offered a scene showing the mining of the island’s prized aurichalcum, to smelting, casting, and the forging of what appeared to be a staff.

Within the final segment were words in a script Twilight had never before seen, formed into blocks and pyramids, swooping swirls and falling lines to create the image of a tall unicorn crowned in fire sitting upon a throne when taken as a whole. A story, for certain, but what the story entailed Twilight couldn’t even hazard a guess.

Twilight could have studied the combined wards and pictograms for years and years without ever feeling satisfied that she’d uncovered all there was to learn.

She only wished she had the time.

Lifting a hoof, she tried the simple approach to opening the door.

The reddish metal glowed almost as if it were scalding hot, but all Twilight could feel coming from the door was a chilly, fresh air, as if the door itself was repulsing the fetid nature of the island.

Still, it refused to so much as budge, even when she gave it a considerable push.

Shaking her head she retracted her hoof. Glancing over her shoulder to the curious onlookers, she said, “This could take me some time to figure out. There has to be some mechanism or other to get these to open.”

Poetic and Polished conferenced for a few seconds, each seeming to read the other’s mind, nodded and began to give orders to set up a perimeter while Twilight sat down to examine the doors more thoroughly.

“Are you sure about this, Applejack?”

The question, coming as it did from Fluttershy as they stood before Carousel Boutique’s painted door, did not take Applejack by surprise.

Pushing back her hat to give her friend a quizzical look. Fluttershy had been especially forceful, for her at least, when she’d come to the orchard claiming Rarity was unwell and needed help. Naturally, once Applejack had decided to head straight to the boutique, Fluttershy had grown more and more reticent about bothering their friend.

A worried grunt forced itself from Applejack as she considered their friend’s home. Something wasn’t right, that was for sure. Weeds were growing next to the door and there was a general air of malaise about the premises, like stray clouds were hovering just right to make the boutique darker and chillier than the rest of Ponyville.

“I trust you, ‘Shy. If Rarity ain’t doing well, then we should at least offer her help.”

“Of course, I’m sorry. I just…” Fluttershy’s voice trailed off as she mumbled something to herself.

Applejack gave Fluttershy a smile and nod for encouragement, then reached up to knock on the door. When there was no reply, she knocked again, and a third time.

“Maybe she’s out?” Fluttershy suggested, looking up and down the street as if expecting Rarity to come along with her slight self-superior swagger.

“Nah, she’s in.” Applejack indicated a window with a curtain pulled just a little to the side, a tell-tale glow of magic along one corner, so whoever was inside could peek out to see who was knocking. A slight pinch in Applejack’s back added to her annoyance at Rarity not answering the door. “I know you’re in there, Rarity!”

No response.

Irritation prickled along Applejack’s neck.

Something was very wrong, but the nature eluded her. Applejack prided herself on having little escape her; whether it was a little filly swearing she hadn’t been using Ma’s pots to boil foul smelling brews, or the earliest stages of Apple Crown Rot in the orchards. Carousel Boutique should not have been so grim faced, but it was Rarity’s silence that was particularly troubling.

Lifting an ear, Applejack was certain she could make out the faintest hint of crying.

“M-Maybe we should come back tomorrow or—”

The rest of Fluttershy’s suggestion was silenced by a particularly stern glare from Applejack. That was all the warning she got as Applejack turned and, with a swift strike from a single hoof, sent Rarity’s front door crashing open. There’d be Tartarus to pay for that, Applejack was aware, but at that precise moment she didn’t care. Rarity needed help, and was going to get it whether she wanted it or not.

Determination driving her, Applejack marched into the boutique.

Rarity stood in the archway between the showroom and stairs leading to the second floor. Her eyes were wide and mouth hanging open. Tears stained her face, giving her an unusual matted look.

“Applejack, whatever is the matter?”

“What’s the matter is why are you hiding in your hole like a rabbit with a pack of wolves just outside?” Applejack snorted as she tromped deeper into the boutique. A whiff of stale wine touched her nose, as well as rotted food left on the counter, drifting in from the kitchen. “You’re a mess, Rares, and you ain’t ever a mess. What’s going on?”

“On? Nothing.”

It was, perhaps, the most unconvincing lie Applejack had ever heard Rarity give, and she’d heard some whoppers from her friend over the years. If Applejack was the worst at telling a lie, Rarity wasn’t all that far behind, at least when it came to something important. Minor, day-to-day fibs, Rarity was rather skilled, much to Applejack’s annoyance.

Whatever was going on was far from minor.

Rarity trembled like a gopher who’d built her burrow beneath a rail track, ears pressed flat and tangles in her mane. Every few moments her eyes darted to one of the room’s doors or up the stairs, and her tail actually dragged across the floor.

Applejack couldn’t recall ever seeing Rarity in such disarray. The closest had to be during the run-up to their first Grand Galloping Gala. There was something else to Rarity this time, an unusual squalid malaise as she edged away from her friends.

“Really, girls, I am fine, I swear. Cross my heart, hope—”

Rarity was half way through the motions, hoof hovering over her heart, when the boutique’s door flew open with a bang. Every eye snapped towards Sweetie Belle standing in the doorway.

“Heya, Applejack, Fluttershy,” Sweetie nodded to the two in turn as she bounded across the room towards her sister, oblivious to her frozen shock. “Afternoon, Rarity. Dad was hoping you’d come over for dinner tonight. He’s making his special oat surprise.”

Face pasty beneath her coat, Rarity scampered back a couple steps. “I-I don’t think that is a good idea, Sweetie.”

“Why?” Brow furrowed, Sweetie glanced between the adults. “If Fluttershy and Applejack want to come over too, I’m sure that dad wouldn’t mind.”

“Perhaps next week,” Fluttershy said as she reached out with a wing to guide Sweetie away from the visibly trembling Rarity.

“Are you okay, Rarity?” Her face morphing from youthful excitement to concern, Sweetie twisted around Fluttershy’s wing to jump back towards her sister.

All at once, a howl broke from Rarity as light pure and golden burst through the boutique. Ponykins and mirrors rattled, a few dresses tumbling from their hangers as the light physically pushed Applejack away. She had to snap her eyes shut to avoid being completely blinded, hoof coming up to cover her face. The last thing she saw was Fluttershy twisting around Sweetie, using her body and wings to create a barrier against the light as the filly let out a surprised yelp.

“Rarity! What’s going on?” Sweetie yelled from between Fluttershy’s wings.

“Silence Aoide!” Rarity roared in a voice far older than her own and lyrical in spite of the reverberating boom it possessed. “I will not allow you thieves to steal my daughter as you have my sister’s divinity.”

Lowering a shoulder, Applejack cracked one eye open in a futile attempt to see anything. Tears stung her face and after a moment she had to clamp her eye shut again.

“Applejack, I don’t think that is Rarity!” Fluttershy had to shout at the top of her voice to be heard above the sizzling rush of energy and clattering as the boutique rumbled more and more.

The light grew brighter, gaining such intensity it began to burn.

“You are pretenders, thieves, and whores for power not meant for mortal minds.” Rarity’s voice grew greater in cadence, becoming as loud as a great dragon’s roar. “I am the spark behind the glorious dawn that fills hearts with yearning for what lays beyond the heavens. I will not allow you to retain my sister’s grace!”

With her hoof to shield her eyes against the brilliant light flowing from Rarity, Applejack tried to push her way to her friend. A force held her back. It was like Applejack was trying to walk through a wall. Whatever kept her from reaching her friend was not magic, at least not like she’d felt before. The sensation crawling across her skin was nothing like the times she’d been affected by one of her friend’s magical auras.

“Snap out of it, Rarity!” Applejack and Fluttershy shouted together, but even combined their voices were little more than the whistle of a breeze through grass compared to the maelstrom filling the boutique.

All at once the light was gone, the room seeming to plunge into night with its sudden absence.

A few blinks cleared some of the spots from Applejack’s eyes, just enough for her to see Rarity drawing away, a hoof to her mouth and tears matting the fur of her muzzle.

“I am so sorry,” Rarity said as she forced open the door to the kitchen. “Warn Celestia,” she added before darting from the room.

Neither Applejack nor Fluttershy’s calls for her to stop and come back proved fruitful. A bang from the back door being slammed open heralded Rarity’s flight from her home and Ponyville.

“Faust’s mane!” Applejack snarled as she made to give chase, only for the pain in her back to flare. Stumbling out the back door, she looked up and down the street for any sign of Rarity. She caught only a glimpse of her friend running towards the Everfree, a few ponies knocked aside pulling themselves back to their hooves and wondering aloud what was going on with the Elements this week.

Shouting back into the boutique, Applejack told Fluttershy to fly to the post office and send a curulícum to Celestia and to take Sweetie home. The filly was in hysterics, crying and demanding to know what had happened to her sister. Applejack wished she had time to make sure Sweetie was alright. She could trust Fluttershy with that, however, freeing her to focus on following Rarity..

After hearing Fluttershy give a little squeak of understanding, Applejack bolted down the street as fast as her legs could carry her.

She’d hardly gone a dozen yards before, rounding a bend, she plowed straight into Paumuut and Leila, sending them all sprawling across the dirt. Applejack grunted as her shoulder struck a post in the tumble. On her side she grit her teeth against the jarring sting that made the entire limb numb for a few precious seconds.

“Friend Eden, a thousand heartfelt apologies.” Paumuut helped Applejack to her hooves, apologizing for a second time.

Brushing off both the help and the use of her given name, Applejack looked for Rarity, but she was gone.

Twisting her head to peer in the same direction as Applejack, Paumuut began to ask about what Applejack was doing, only getting so far as ‘What is’ before Applejack was trotting away, slowed by uncertainty on which way to go. Her rudeness rankled, but Rarity needed her more. Later, Applejack would apologize to the foreigners.

The quick beat of the zebras’ hooves told Applejack that they were following her, and after a few more strides she was flanked by the pair.

Focusing on catching up to Rarity, Applejack kept her eyes trained on the ground in search of her friend’s tracks as she said, “I’m really sorry, but this is kind of a private matter.”

After speaking to each other briefly in their own tongue, Paumuut gave a weary shrug and said, “We have been told to help. Great events rise in this town that could impact the empire. It is our duty to see that no threat spreads so far.”

Applejack frowned at the implications in the zebra’s declaration. “Fine. I ain’t going to stop you, but I ain’t going to wait for you neither. You’re welcome to tag along.”

She made certain to put extra force behind her words, and was gladdened when Paumuut did not press the issue further and merely nodded her understanding as she hurried to keep pace. Every moment wasted with the zebras meant Rarity was that little bit further away. Applejack’s insides twisted thinking about what her friend had to be going through.

At a fast canter, she headed towards the nearest of the Everfree’s paths, not willing to waste any more time on the pair. Applejack just hoped she’d be able to catch Rarity before her friend vanished entirely into the forests shadowed depths.

By the time Trixie found her coin purse within the mess of her salvaged belongings, the afternoon had grown long and there was no point in going to the nearby town. All the stalls would be closed before she arrived.

Putting her coins aside for the time being, Trixie decided to observe the halla a little more, since she’d be with them a day or two longer while she prepared her escape with Shyara.

Unlike ponies, most of the adults were without cutie marks, or whatever the equivalent was called by the savages. Among those that did, the marks were all animal motifs, made of sharp, angular lines colored red, white, and black. The most common belonged to those of cats in various poses or profiles. Almost a quarter of the halla with marks belonged to this group. Other common animals seemed to be bears, wolves, and foxes. Trixie also spotted a pair of halla with a bird of some sort, and from their apparel—heavy robes with pouches for potions and trinkets—Trixie suspected them to be more practiced with magic or alchemists.

The wolf marked halla seemed to be the authority among the large herd. More than a few times over the afternoon and into the evening Trixie spotted one breaking up a fight or lecturing a fawn. Arguments that grew too heated inevitably drew the attention of a particular hind, larger than most of the others and with a sage air about her from the greying streak in her mane.

This puzzled Trixie, as she had assumed River was the matron of the herd.

She brought this up with Mountain the next morning as the pair trotted towards the village. He’d insisted on joining her, stating his reason was to see more of Equestrian society, and Trixie hadn’t put up much of a fight.

“She’s what you’d call the matron, I believe,” Mountain explained as they topped a hill and the village came into clear view.

It was a lovely little village. Cottages dotted around a meandering little stream, with the striped, bright awnings of market stalls filling the town square and a stubby wall attesting to the place having once been on Equestria’s frontier. While it had been a long time since Equestria grew beyond the village, the community itself had stayed relatively the same. There were a few homes built outside the wall, and a long section had been torn down or fallen at some point with a sprawling field dotted with gold and white flowers stretching out until they turned into rolling hills and met a distant forest of tall pines. Otherwise it was like looking through a window onto the distant past when ponies first arrived in these lands.

Even the old ruined castle sitting on the most dominant hill had an aged, purposeful air about it. There was little pretty about the construction, even in its prime, unlike the sprawling manor homes built since the dawn of Celestia’s solitary dominion over the nation.

Noting a building that looked to be a farrier or smith, Trixie smiled up at Mountain. “I thought that was River.”

He let out a long chuckle, his eyes pressing into happy lines.

“Nay, she is our… I do not know the proper word. She is the bridge between our queen and the disc, but not our leader. It is complicated, and we’ve had a long time to make it more so while our queen was absent.”

“Your Equestrian is pretty good,” Trixie commented, adding an extra sway to her hips when he glanced down at her. “Where did you learn it?”

“The queen taught it to any of us who cared to learn.”

The answer was as matter of fact as if he’d just said the sun rises in the morning or that summer followed spring. He did smile, however, and Trixie swished her tail in response.

Trixie had to clamp her mouth shut when a purred non-question began to travel up her throat. Her ears burned with embarrassment at the shameful way she acting. It took all her effort to correct her trot.

It was unheard of for a mare to travel alone with a stallion during the season. The way the hinds acted when Mountain had said he was going to escort Trixie to the village bubbled up, as it had done several times already during the walk from the camp. There’d been no animosity or envy when they’d looked over, unlike whenever Trixie had gotten too close to any of the other bucks.

The matron in particular had been dismissive, waving a hoof for the pair to go while she watched over the jousting.

“Trixie is surprised they let you come with her.” Trixie found the words tumbling from her before she’d realised they’d formed. She followed them with a nervous giggle and an internal admonishment to stop acting like a filly with her first crush.

“Ha-ha! Is that so?” His laugh was loud and booming, head tossed back to throw his mirth farther. “It is because they know that not even the prettiest among their number could catch my eye, so they dismiss you entirely.”

Trixie came to a sharp halt, a mixture of dread at the prospect of further embarrassing herself and the need to know more lodging in her chest.

“Are you…” She made an odd motion with her hoof along with a twitch of her left ear.

Among Equestrians the sign was well known, and only slightly less frowned upon than verbally saying what was on her mind.

Mountain just gave her a puzzled expression before the meaning dawned on him. Again he laughed, this time for almost a minute before he could speak again.

“Is that common among you ponies?” Mountain asked as he wiped a tear away from his eye and the last of his guffaws faded.

Ears burning brighter still, Trixie mumbled her reply. “N-Not among stallions. It’s not uncommon among mares in areas with few eligible stallions.”

“I see.” Mountain nodded slowly, a hoof placed under his chin and eyes closed as he thought. “To answer your question, no, I do not desire the company of other stags. No, it is because my heart belongs to a single mare, and none could hope to take her place or stand at her side.”

Trixie gave a stiff nod as they resumed their way. Nothing more was said until they approached the village gate. Painted bright green to match the vines and creepers clinging to the walls, the gate had been forced permanently open years earlier. It didn’t even sit on hinges anymore, and instead leaned up against the side of the boxy tower serving as the post for the town’s sole guard.

He was an aging stallion with watery grey eyes rimmed with red from too much time spent at the bottom of a bottle. Hardly glancing up from the bench he rested upon, he took a swig of something strong smelling as the pony and halla approached.

“So, what we got here?” He barked the question like an asthmatic dog, pulling his upper lip back to reveal cracked yellow teeth. “A right pair you are. Have business in Diamonds Down, do yah?”

Heart falling at the stench of stale whisky that hung about the guard like a cloud, Trixie hopes for finding a wagon in the town began to wane. If the guard was any indication, there wouldn’t be anything of interest in the entire area, let alone the village.

“My friend seeks a wagon and supplies so that she may attempt to sneak off in the night with the goddess Shyara.” Mountain indicated Trixie with a wave of his hoof while she snapped sharply to attention like a dragon had just landed behind her. “Do you have a master… uh… crafter? Wait, smith. Yes, do you have a master smith in this town?”

The guard’s eye drifted from Mountain to Trixie and then back again, a frown pulling at his lips.

“There’s Iron Shod, he’s a farrier. Keeps a wagon for his trips to Mackrelmore. Don’t think he’ll part with it though.” He nodded in the direction of the building Trixie had noted from the hill and then waved them through. As they left, Trixie heard him mutter, “Seem to get odder every year. Never heard of a Shyara, neither. Thought the new one was called Midnight Spackle, or some-such.”

Once into the village proper, Trixie got her first good look at the market. In stark contrast to the drunkard at the gate, the square was well maintained, with stalls all in good repair and a humble stock of, nevertheless, fine looking goods. Most of the area was taken up by vegetable stands, a couple flower stalls, and an apothecary shop leaning up against Diamonds Down’s combination school and town-hall.

In sharp contrast, the ponies were anything but in fine spirits. A tense, almost choking undercurrent of anxiety suffused the sunny market. Vendors tried to chat amiably with customers only making hurried purchases before skulking off, their heads held low and eyes narrowed. Only a single couple moved about with tails swishing in unison, their sides pressed tight together, when their should have been dozens or more this time of year. More than a few ponies shot wary glares at Trixie and Mountain as they hurried past, and Trixie caught the sounds of a few mares calling to their foals to come inside.

All activity stopped the moment Mountain’s presence was fully realised. Some of the mares whinnied and began to back away while the vendors stalls all seemed to fold into themselves and vanish. One mare darted by, and another ducked into a home, but most just stared with ears pressed flat and a tenseness to their shoulders as if they hovered between charging or running away. Trixie had seen ponies respond worse to something strange wandering into their midst.

Sighing, Trixie lead the way towards the farrier. She could feel the town’s eyes on her back as they left the market. “Come on, maybe Trixie will be surprised and a suitable wagon is for sale.”

“So, you intend to continue even though your plan has already been uncovered?”

“Trixie never intended to sneak off with her foal. Trixie will do it openly and with her head held high.” A rough snort followed her statement, along with a roll of the eyes for added effect. “Trixie is Shyara’s mother.”

It was Mountain’s turn to snort, but instead he just chuckled. “You would make a fine Wolf. Though there is something of the Bear about you as well, with how you fought to protect the little goddess.”

“Is that supposed to mean something to Trixie?”

Mountain shook his head. “No, I suppose not.”

Trixie glanced again to the mark on Mountains flank and pondered the actions of the halla over the past few days. There was almost an audible click as she came to the realization their markings indicated their caste as much as their talents. Trixie grinned at having figured out one little piece of the halla puzzle.

Silence settled on them as they made their way down a well worn street. Trixie’s ears twitched a few times, unease bubbling up in the absence of conversation. It was nothing, of course. Such small towns were always too quiet for her tastes, no where near enough ponies to make them worth her time. Worse was the way it made the feeling of being watched so much more prevalent. In cities there were eyes everywhere and it was easy to ignore them. Small towns always left Trixie feeling like there was somepony—

“You remind me of her, actually.” Trixie’s ears snapped toward Mountain, his words carrying an almost frighteningly hard edge. “The Sorceress,” he added when Trixie began to ask for clarification. “I met her, when she was making her way north. She was full of pride and had a heart sharp like flint, and just as brittle. What I remember most is how she didn’t seem to know how to smile, even when talking about the daughter she was trying to save.”

Tixie stopped at once, began to protest, and instead shrugged before continuing on. “Think what you will, Trixie is Trixie.”

“That is how she would have responded.”

Even the most tone-deaf pony would have noted the disapproval flowing from the giant like a pungent cloud.

Lifting her head up a little higher, Trixie let out a small huff and ignored her escort. Not that he had time to continue the conversation as they arrived at the farrier's shop. Disappointment struck Trixie at once as she noticed a large sign in the corner of a window reading ‘Closed for the Season’. Deciding to have a quick look around to at least see if there were any suitable wagons, Trixie poked her head around a corner and groaned.

There was a wagon, but it was unserviceable if the way it leaned was any indication. Likewise, the leads were all old and rotted through, with a large crack running through the heavy working yoke sitting on the seat. If that wasn’t bad enough, it was an open topped wagon, with long wooden benches. At best, it could have been used to transport her possessions until Trixie could find a better wagon. As it was, the thing was useless.

She went to gather Mountain, who’d been standing in front of the shop frowning at his reflection in the window. As she opened her mouth to tell Mountain they were leaving, Trixie noticed a raven watching her. The bird sat on the edge of an empty planter beneath the window Mountain was staring into with rare intensity.

The bird took flight, its harsh caws washing over the village as it flew to the north-west. As it swept past, Trixie caught a flash of a second head on the raven. It was only for a moment, and if Trixie hadn’t known better she’d have dismissed it as a trick of the light.

Hoof pressed to her chest to still a sudden surge in her heart. Trixie breathed, “That was a hemmravn.”

Trixie stared in disbelief after the bird until it vanished behind some trees. Mountain merely nodded, his eyes having tracked the bird as well.

“Where are the foals?”

Trixie started at the question, knitting her brow in confusion. She hardly knew what the village’s foals mattered at that moment. Then it struck her.

She hadn’t seen a single foal since they’d first laid eyes on the village.

This time of year, and with a village like Diamonds Down, there should have been several groups of foals playing. But the area was oddly still and silent. There weren’t even the songs of birds nor the buzzing of bees.

“We need to head back,” Trixie growled through her teeth as she began to scan every shadow for a pair of ferocious, blue eyes glowing like lamps. “Now.”

Flexing his shoulders and rolling his neck to loosen himself, Mountain agreed, adding, “We must act natural. It could be anywhere, or anyone. Let it think us unawares.”

Trixie nodded in mute agreement, too mesmerised by the rippling of his muscles to form a response. She swore that they creaked as Mountain flexed. It was like watching the ocean on a sunny,

They made it as far as the gate.

There they were met by a growing crowd of concerned parents yelling at the gate guard. Trixie had been on the receiving end of enough angry mobs to recognise when one was on the cusp of forming. The little glances and angry words muttered under the ponies’ breaths, the way their tail snapped every few seconds, and the sharp punctuations of a stamped hoof all told her it was best not to draw attention.

Traveling with a hulking giant from the north, however, prevented slipping past the crowd from ever being a realistic outcome.

“It’s one of the barbarians!” yelled a voice hidden somewhere within the crowd.

At an almost languid pace, the crowd shifted its focus from the poor guard to Trixie and Mountain. Suppressing a curse by biting the edge of her tongue, Trixie put on her innocent grin and turned to face the crowd.

Affecting her stage voice, she said, “Greetings, fair folk of—”

“You! You took my April Showers, didn’t you?”

One of the mares, a well built lime-green earth pony that looked like she could crack rocks between her hooves, stomped up to Mountain.

“Ha-ha! You have courage, little pony, but I tell you with all honesty, I do not know where your little ones have gone. Offer a prayer to Iridia and add my name as your sponsor. She will give you the guidance you seek if you do.”

He tossed back his head as he’d done with Trixie, his barrel shaking from laughter. If his good humour was meant to diffuse the anger seeping like a poisonous vapour from the crowd, it was worse than ineffective. Those ponies closest hardened their jaws and snorted, only a few on the fringes looking as if about to dart towards their homes.

“Iridia?” The mare sneered the name like it tasted of sour milk. “We don’t need any of your false, northern spirits. Just tell us what you’ve done with the foals.”

Many among the crowd nodded or shouted encouragement.

Mountain’s humour darkened at once, his eyes taking a stern cast as he towered over the ponies.

“‘Spirit’?” He huffed and flared his nostrils. “Iridia is the Sprinbringer. Foalgiver. The Mother of All. She is a goddess, and you would do well not to speak poorly of her in my presence.”

He snorted and set his hooves as if to charge.

Gulping, Trixie tried to think of a way to get out of the town. Trying to run would only show guilt, and likely lead to a torch wielding mob. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

“Dear, that is enough. Let Trixie deal with this.” Trixie reached up with a hoof to touch Mountain’s shoulder. It was like touching a corded bundle of taught steel ready to snap. His eye flickered briefly to Trixie, then back to the mare in front of him. Almost imperceptibly he nodded. A few, quick steps took Trixie past Mountain and up to the lime-green mare. “If you think Trixie has—”

“Listen up, glow-knob, I don’t know you from any other big-city pony.” Trixie staggered back as the mare jabbed her in the chest. “All we know is that the other day they,” the mare nodded to Mountain, “showed up just out of town, and now our foals have gone missing. It ain’t train engineering to see there is a connection.”

A chorus of agreement broke out from the crowd. Trixie was certain she heard somepony yell out, ‘String ‘em up.’

“What reason could we want with your foals?” Trixie asked the crowd at large. She cast her gaze across the gathered ponies, looking at each, and none of them. To her satisfaction, a few flattened their ears in doubt. “We have foals of our own among our number. We do not need to steal yours. What right pony would think to do that?”

More doubt began to spread, shame making its way into the crowd’s heart.

“Wait, didn’t you say you was going to sneak off, like, with some foal?” Called the old guard, a hoof raised to scratch his head.

Any doubt among the villagers vanished, twisted into a violent fury as they began shouting and advancing. Stamping his own hoof, Mountain lowered his head, and it was only then Trixie noticed just how sharp the metal caps on his antlers appeared.

He would kill a few, maybe even all of them, but it wasn’t right. By the same token, Trixie had seen few mobs as angry as the one spreading out to surround her.

She had to act fast before somepony got hurt.

“You wish to fight the Great and Powerful Trixie? Are all villages so foolish?” Trixie gave her mane a dramatic toss followed by putting on her most confident, winning smile. “Trixie has battled the dreaded Ursa Major. Locked wits and spells with a changeling princess. But, they both paled compared to the demon Trixie has destroyed. And you, a group of country ponies, think to present a challenge? Ha!”

The ponies were not buying her act. Ears pressed back, eyes narrowed, and hooves scuffing at the dirt, they were moments away from turning into a stampede.

“Be ready to run,” Trixie hissed up to Mountain out of the side of her mouth while she sheathed her horn in magic.

Trixie was thankful the town seemed to possess almost no unicorns. At least, none seemed to be in the crowd. Any of them could have recognised her spell from basic casting lessons. It was a very simple spell, one that conjured a brilliant flash of light accompanied by a tremendous bang.

Book One: Chapter Sixteen: Beneath the Aurora

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book One: Awakening and Arrivals
Chapter Sixteen: Beneath the Aurora

Hooves squelching through the mud brought Fleur’s head up from where she rested in the shade cast by one of the two-faced statues. Picking his way through the ruts formed by the marines and sailors, Timely called over, “Is everything alright, ambassador? You’ve been sitting here, alone, with a growing glumness that’s starting to spread.”

Fleur gave her head a slow, depressed shake. “I was thinking about my dear Fancy. What must he be doing all alone in the manor.”

“Surely, you do not think he’s being unfaithful?” Timely gave Fleur a thoroughly disapproving, watery stare.

“Mon dui! Non, not my Fancy Pants!” Fleur was a little too forceful in her defence. Her ears drooped a bit as Timely continued to stare. Unable to maintain her poise, she drifted her gaze over the seamares as they milled about, or the soldiers tense at their appointed posts. “A little, perhaps,” she eventually admitted. “But only just a very little. I would have no worry if we had another wife. This is the first Season we’ve been apart since we met, and I can not stop myself from missing him.”

“In this, I am afraid, I am a rather poor stallion within which to seek solace.” Timely huffed and peered towards the distant Bellerophon. “I’ve never been much for romance or love. The only mare I ever cared about dashed my expectations most convincingly. Observing other couples in their stated bliss has been equally discouraging, to the point it has become a wonder for me that any pony should stand to be in the company of another in anything short of brotherly bonds. Marriage seems to be something ponies do because we are told we must, then resent once it has been attained and the glamour falls away. It is exceptionally rare to find any couple that refutes this trend. Possessiveness is to be expected, as is the fear of a wandering eye.”

“Are my thoughts so unfair, doctor?” Fleur asked with a sad smile, hoping to correct his course before he said any more that he’d later regret.

“No,” he continued in an even greater passion, “too many mares have I treated for this or that assorted debauchery, or known to be cruel, self-serving, and snide. No, I am afraid the only comfort I can give is that the Fancy Pants I met at the Royal Society of Equestria is not so callous a stallion to abandon your affections so casually.”

Fleur jerked her head up sharply. “You know my Fancy?”

“Not well, and it has been years since we last spoke. Why, it would be before I began my present occupation as a ship’s surgeon, and before you courted him, I dare venture.” Timely let out a slow hum, lost in his memories a moment. “Under usual circumstances I deplore a gossip. But, since it will put you at ease, I can tell you this much; in the days I knew Fancy Pants it was the idea among the Society that he rather preferred the company of other stallions. No mare could catch his eye, and there were plenty who tried. There was never a shortage of pretty young things vying for the heart you have captivated. It’s plain now he was just waiting for the right mare to lay claim to his affections. I salute you on your victory.”

A small glass of bitter, black coffee was produced and raised in toast. Blushing, Fleur thanked the doctor for his encouragement, her heart a little lighter and a dopey smile on her face.

“I’m not alone in his heart,” she admitted as the praise subsided. “For a time we were both very much in love with lady Belle.”

“Of the Bearers? You do not set your sights low, madam.” Timely lifted up his brow, his habitually chilly eyes softened by surprise.

Fleur inclined her head to the doctor. “The same,” she replied, remembered happiness giving her words a light, bouncy edge and thickening her accent. “She is looking for something or somepony else, however. At least she is my best friend, and that is enough.”

A haphazard, broken silence settled over the pair as they both retreated into private reveries. For Fleur it was that wonderful spring Rarity had been in Canterlot, when she’d gotten to know the mare and it had seemed for a too-brief time that Rarity would join her and Fancy. Judging by the slight twitch in Timely’s eye, and the growing sourness of his expression, his memories were far less pleasant.

“Perhaps I should have encouraged him to visit Rarity,” Fleur said, giving voice to her thoughts. “Then, if anything happens to me, he’d at least have the company of a good friend to help him. And, if they did stray, it wouldn’t be so bad. I do not belong here. I belong in garden parties, not ruins or battlefields. The worst I’ve faced is snide remarks hidden behind a pleasant smile. This is so far beyond my experience and expertise.” Fleur spoke more to herself, her gaze slowly shifting across the desolate city until it settled on Twilight.

The Princess sat in front of the sealed door, eyes unfocused as she communed with her stars. Dusk was falling, and soon it would be night. A shiver ran up Fleur’s spine as she watched the princess.

There was an undeniable beauty about Twilight. The way the young goddess’ mane sparkled like her namesake was already the envy of many a mare. But, there was also something off that filled Fleur with trepidation. She wondered if it was merely some effect of Athena’s presence, or if it was all in her own head. Not that there was much difference.

Sharing Fleur’s gaze, Timely nodded to the princess. “Did lady Belle ever speak of our princess?”

“Non,” Fleur shrugged off her unease. “I always got the impression that she held her other friends in mutual admiration and embarrassment. Twilight and lady Apple she spoke of the most, but it is lady Posey she would talk about with the most affection. For a little while I was a tiny bit jealous. I—”

Fleur’s words become lost in a gasp as auroras flared overhead. The occurrence wasn’t precisely rare, but usually contained to the disc’s rims. Seeing the ghostly sheets spring up in perfect unison, forming criss-crossing patterns in the sudden night filled her with wonder. All through the camp ponies stared, many giving prayers to Twilight, with a few invoking Celestia, Luna, or Faust.

‘The Sun and Moon’s hooves are behind this,’ came Athena’s voice as the auroras grew in intensity.

A grumble from the princess, one carried far by an errant shift in the breeze through the reverent silence of the camp, alerted Fleur to her return. Not that it was unexpected, with the stars blossoming into the night, each in their ancient place. Or, rather, almost all of them, as a glance towards the princess showed her accompanied by two stars.

Twilight’s rapid fire discussion with the stars was both cute and unsettling to watch. While Fleur caught snippets of the conversations, she was the only other pony present able to hear the stars. Reverent gazes were sent from the common seamares and marines towards the princess. After a time of Twilight going back and forth with her stars, Rainbow got up and joined her friend.

Uncertain whether she should go help Twilight or not—though what help she could provide, she knew not—Fleur remained in her little, secluded corner of the plaza. Timely didn’t stay long, departing to speak with the lieutenant and captain of the marines, and her loneliness settled over her withers like an old blanket once more.

There was no surprise, just nodded acceptance of the natural order of the universe, when Twilight at last opened the great doors. They swung inward with a deep groan, grime encrusted hinges protesting after so many thousands of years disuse.

An argument broke out the moment Twilight started towards the door, a wing used to block Rainbow’s path. Fleur closed her eyes and shut out the high pitched voices. She was rather shocked when Twilight entered the palace, alone, an angry murmur flitting through the seamares. To a mare, they had gotten her things ready to follow her. The only pony who could have looked less pleased than Rainbow was Polished Armor, both staring daggers at the door long after Twilight had vanished through it, and it’d shut with an ominous boom.

Every few breaths, Rainbow twitched an ear or wing, a grunt or huff accompanying the motion. After a few hours, Rainbow got up and went to sit near Fleur, drawn by the smell of warm food being passed out.

“I can’t believe she left me!” Rainbow protested, not for the first time, hoof thrust at the door. “So the door made me a little queasy, I would have been fine.”

“Oui,” Fleur simply said, offering Rainbow a plate of hash and asparagus.

‘She’s brave’, Athena admitted, nodding towards the door and Twilight, an action Fleur was made to carry out. ‘Astraea would never have marched into the fortress of a Demon Queen. Or perhaps she naively believes that she can defeat Leviathan in the queen’s own lair. Either way, she’s changed with her reincarnation.’

“Je ne comprende pas tu—”

“Sheesh, speak Equestrian, Fleur. Not all of us know ‘fancy’,” Rainbow snapped, her wings shooting out along with a sideways glare.

Fleur ignored the interruption, closing her eyes.

A ghostly apparition of Athena appeared in the self-imposed darkness. It was not exactly like looking into a mirror. Athena was, after all, larger, with wings pressed against her sides, and her eyes a slightly lighter shade of pink. Still, it was easy to see where Tyr’s initial confusion had come from when they’d first met.

In this way, while nothing was said outwardly and, to all the other ponies around her, it looked like Fleur was in a trance, she could hold an actual conversation with her unwanted guest.

“What is this about reincarnation?” Fleur asked, wanting clarification in case the crazed dead Goddess was near.

Athena gave a small smile accompanied by a shrug of her wings, waving one to reform the stark black of their shared mindscape into a delightful little garden. Taking a seat at a table situated in a sunny gazebo, she said, “Only that Twilight is Astraea. Or rather, she’s the part of Astraea that arrived first. If I had to guess, the wish she—Astraea I mean, of course—created to send us here tore her into two halves. In this way she was like… bookends, leading the way here while also trailing behind to contain the rest of us. Which creates a whole host of interesting questions.”

“Like?” Fleur took the seat opposite Athena.

“Oh, the nature of an alicorn’s essence. Whether we are defined by the composition of our energy or do we define it ourselves. Things of that ilk.” Athena conjured up a wisp of smoke and formed it into a tea service. “She is whole and complete, as vibrant as ever. Her essence almost unchanged. Yet, there remains a remnant of Astraea, this shade, lurking in the shadows. How can this be? I suspect Iridia’s horn at play, but I have little way to confirm or disprove my suspicions. So many ideas to consider.”

“So, she is Astraea?”

“Not at all. She is Twilight. There are differences between them, the faintest alterations in the notes of their essence. Astraea was merely the clay that was shaped into the young goddess, nothing more. As the centuries pass these differences will be amplified. Already I see almost nothing of the goddess I knew for so many ages.” Athena shifted in her seat and peered beyond the garden through Fleur’s eyes towards the once more sealed doors. “All this is interesting to me, obviously. I worry for my other cousins. What will become of those who chose to be reborn? Will they become as Twilight? And, does it mean we are not as different from you mortals as we’d always believed. But, you no doubt find this discussion rather dull.”

“You are right, this is of little interest to me,” Fleur smirked as she took up a cup of tea, blowing across it twice before taking a sip. “Besides, it is you I want to learn more about.”

Athena inclined her head a little, and paused just before pouring herself some of the tea. “That is understandable. I did steal your fate, after-all. Pointless, in the end, but I can understand your curiosity. I will not, however, satiate it. Certainly not this night as there are far more pressing concerns.”

“Oh?” Fleur’s cup paused just in front of her lips.

“This island’s guardians begin to make their move. Something has changed, and they are no longer content with watching us.” There was a happy flicker behind Athena’s eyes as she looked past the boundaries of the mindscape to the sailors and soldiers milling about the plaza. “This will be glorious, and you will require my aid before the night is done. Ah, and so it begins.”

The words had no sooner flown from Athena than an alarmed shout tore Fleur from her reverie with the goddess. Behind her, stone groaned and rattled. Rainbow jumped away, lithe as a cat, and crouched low to face the new danger. Far less agile, Fleur scampered to the pegasus’ side. Her jaw fell open as the statue under which she’d been reclining stepped from its plinth, eyes glowing gold and settling on the pair of ponies.

With a wordless roar, the statue leapt forward, as did a hundred others around the plaza, and thousand more throughout the ruins. Heavy hooves crunched into the hardening ground, then swung up in a blow that Rainbow dodged with ease. Fleur’s eyes widened and in her head Athena yelled at her to move, but she was rooted to the spot. Pain erupted in through her head as the hoof found her and sent the disc tumbling around her. With a wet squelch, she landed in a pile of weeds.

Sound and sight bled together, shouts from the Bellerophon’s crew warbling strangely with distant, bass thumps. Orange flashes lit the far buildings, clashing with the shimmering fields overhead.

Slowly, the world came back into focus, and Fleur pulled herself out of the hardened, crusty ground. She ached all over; a deep, penetrating ache from using muscles long left dormant in her profession as a diplomat worming through every sinew and fibre of her being. It was a novel sensation, and one she might have almost enjoyed as a result, if not for the reason she’d been in the dirt in the first place.

A sharper, more pressing pain flared down her left shoulder originating from where she’d been hit. Leaning on her right legs to compensate, Fleur clambered through the glowing midnight beneath the furious lines of the auroras. Everything was painted with shimmering lights of ghostly blues and greens punctuated by the occasional flash of a spell.

Only a few steps brought her to the body of one of the seamares felled in the initial, chaotic attack of the golems. Gorge rising, Fleur refused to look away from the mare that had saved her from being crushed. She took up the mare’s boarding pike, taking care to hold it with only a couple small nodules of her aura, rather than engulf the entire weapon.

It took only a few limping steps before the aches began to subside. ‘We are together in this, my vessel,’ came Athena’s voice. ‘I will do my best to lend my strength without causing you further harm.’

“I do not require your help,” Fleur gasped as she rounded a corner and found herself faced with three of the living statues. The golems lumbered towards her, lifeless eyes boring into Fleur.

The first she hooked around the legs, tripping it into its fellows. Down they came with a soft crash into the drying mud. Useless again stone, Fleur didn’t bother to use the pike to stab the golems, instead reaching up to the column on which a golem had rested and pulling it down atop the statues with a booming crunch.

In the distance the base thump of a cannon ruffled across the ruins, punctuated by a brief golden glare. A glance around the area showed the sailors and soldiers just barely holding their lines. On all sides the unliving statues emerged from the flickering darkness, painted by the lights burning across the heavens.

For a second Fleur debated running. She could slip off through the chaos back to the ship. There they could hold off the golems. Even the moment of contemplating the action left her sick to her stomach. Fleur may never have thought she’d be in a fight, much less a pitched battle, but she was not a coward. Before a decision could be reached, it was forced from her, all avenues of retreat choked with ever growing numbers of the animated statues.

Her eyes darted from side to side, judging to see if it were possible to slip through the throng, only to have her attention yanked to the side. “Everypony, over here!” Rainbow shouted as she leapt atop the broken column’s far end. “The ship protects the shore. We must give Twilight the time she needs to find and rescue her stars and Pinkie. We must hold this square. No matter what!”

Together, the sailors and soldiers gave a throaty roar and rallied. Rainbow tossed back her head, mane blending in with the fire through the sky. At her side, captain Polished Armour appeared, horn ablaze with a red aura. Without a spoken word the duo spun around each other; Rainbow bucking and throwing vicious punches, Polished’s spells going off in sharp cracks like miniature cannons.

Fleur stood in awe as Rainbow darted across the battlefield, living up to her namesake, seeming to be everywhere at once. Never had she felt so out of her own depth than marveling at the storied heroine seemingly turning the tide of the battle single-hoofed. To the left Rainbow saved a group of sailors pressed by a growing number of the two-faced statues. On the right she knocked down a wall preventing another group from being over-run. All the while Polished held the center with his marines, orders barked between the staccato flashes of spells.

‘There is no doubt, she is battle-born. The true blood of the ancient pegasi is strong in her veins.’ Athena chuckled darkly in the corner of Fleur’s thoughts. ‘Are you certain you do not wish my aid, ambassador? You are no soldier, and certainly not a heroine of her calibre.’

“I am fine.” Fleur shook her head and went in search of Timely, taking care to avoid the fighting. Perhaps she’d be of some help to the doctor.

“There you are, ambassador,” Polished shouted across the battlefield, his voice affixing her to the spot as if it were a barbed spear. Her heart twisted itself into a knot, and she prayed that he would not call her over. She could not fight, not as the soldiers, sailors, and Rainbow. “I started to wonder if I was going to have to go looking for you. No, don’t bother with inner circle evocations, Lefty, these brutes are magic hardened. Hit them with either something from the middle circles or just a heavy enough blast of pure force if that is all you can manage.” This he called to one of the marines that had been attempting to use a basic flame conjuration.

Returning his attention to Fleur, Polished pointed to a segment of the courtyard where the statues had not reached. “Best to stay down, ambassador. Hate to have tell the princesses you went and got yourself killed attempting some foalish heroics. Leave this to us; we’ll keep you safe.”

He said nothing more, and dismissed her entirely, turning to smash one of the larger statues.

Head held low, Fleur slunk towards the spot, spying as she went that it was where Timely had set up shop beneath a canvass overhang. Little Ophelia was at the doctor’s side with a trio of the largest foremast jacks. The burley seamares helped the young midshipmare erect some barricades for defenders to fall behind if they were over-run.

‘You need not hide and cower. Even as you are you can be of some assistance.’ Athena’s disapproval was thick in her voice and the chill that rippled down Fleur’s neck.

She crossed the ground to the doctor and midshipmare in silent shame, head hung low and unable to look in the direction of the seamares. On reaching the small group, Fleur was ordered to help with the barricades. Magic stretched out and grabbed the fallen pillars and blocks of stone, what would have once been impossible for Fleur to lift now light in her aura. The shift in her magical strength astounded even the doctor, his brows shooting up with surprise as Fleur deposited the lot. At Ophelia’s direction, Fleur began to shift and move the blocks, a little, short vived pulse of happiness at providing some help warming her heart.

Before she could set the last of the blocks down, one of the largest of the animate statues came thundering up the steps, a dozen of the smaller golems in its shadow. With a trumpeting below it smashed through the defending line and came straight for Fleur.

Confidence from moving the blocks overcoming her doubts, Fleur hurled a ram shaped burst of pure telekinesis at the brute. It was a blow capable of crushing boulders into rubble, and it glanced off the statue without leaving a scratch, deflected by protective runes carved onto its broad chest.

Gulping, Fleur jumped back and searched for another option.

‘Take up my arms. Take up my Aegis and Pallas, and shatter this brutish construct.’

A spell flashed through Fleur, a rather simple one well within Fleur’s talents even before Athena’s presence. She didn’t recognise the spell’s school, but from Athena’s words assumed it to be a summon of some sort.

Jumping to the side, she called up the runes, aether dancing in a purple-white veil along her horn for only a brief moment the spell required. On either side of her the air was wrenched open, and through the tears fell two items, their appearance felt by those attuned to magic across the disc. Unusual magic, poignant and raw, poured over her, tasting of fire, electricity, and rain.

Then the rifts slammed shut and the strange aether faded to just a slight trace drifting off the two items she’d summoned. Taking them up, she was not surprised to find a shield and spear, but the quality of each stole her breath away.

Solforged steel caught the shimmering light of the aurora full on Aegis’s face, highlighting etched reliefs of ponies marching to war. All along the outermost ring were members of a grand Gaean army, spears raised and shields ready to withstand an unseen enemy. There was a grimness to the soldiers eyes, an acceptance of whatever Fate lay in store on the battlefield, as well as the brilliance of faith in their goddess. Beneath their hooves within the middle ring lay a city of columned temples, expansive palaces, and stout walls. Deeper still, the interior of a senate, complete with senators at debate with hooves raised as they gesticulated in impassioned oration. At the heart of the shield, three owls flew, their wings and talons positioned in such a way as to form a fleur-de-lis. All throughout the engraving runes hummed, their magic excited by the prospect of battle around Fleur.

Aegis’s equal was found in Pallas, the spear’s heavy butted end thumping onto the earth with a sound that echoed through bone and soul. Gold buttons pressed with the same owls as Aegis affixed soft velvet of a deep, imperial purple to the haft. Where Fleur held the spear she could sense a different enchantment behind each button, hidden strands of gold thread binding them together. As the buttons approached the spiral head, with its tuft of white lion mane, they gained in power, feeding into each other until pouring all into the spear’s head. Fleur’s flesh crawled at the unaccustomed sensations spreading back down to her through her aura.

Beyond the sheer beauty and complexity of the weapons, the power each radiated was awe inspiring. These were works of the God of the Forge at his peak, to call them merely exceptional was to sully their lustre.

Fleur took all this in, and a thousand other minor and major details, at the first glance. She did not hesitate to grab them both and thrust Pallas into the nearest of the golems. The statue exploded in a burst of holy light and flame that did not scorch the ponies beside Fleur, but left the other golems blackened with soot and cracked from the heat.

Cheers broke from the weary sailors and soldiers, their hooves thumping against the hardened dirt in a rousing chorus that sent Fleur’s heart soaring. She smiled wide, and ludicrously, tears wetted her cheeks.

Shoulder to shoulder with the seamares, Fleur charged into the golems. Where moments before they’d verged on being overrun, the defenders rallied, and then drove the golems back. Pallas performed her work with shocking effect, a single stroke felling two, three, and sometimes four of the golems at once, while no blow could pierce Aegis.

Half their numbers depleted, the broken forms of the fallen littering the ground in jagged stumps, the golems ceased their attack. As one the animated statues turned, like dogs hearing their master whistle might do, then slunk back into the flickering darkness, leaving the ponies panting and exhausted at their barricades.

Fleur stood vigil the rest of the night on one of the abandoned plinths. The golems did not assault the square again that night, though the flashes and distant rumbles of the Bellerophon’s cannons spoke that things were not so peaceful at the shore.

To one side of the camp, the wounded were taken, the doctor and his apprentice doing their best with the limited resources at hoof. Surprisingly, only a few were laid reverently taken aside and covered with simple cloths. Fleur tried not to think of the dead, and instead focus on… anything else.

Movement at the edge of the bonfires’ light caught her eye. Too fast for one of the golems, whatever lurked out in the ruins vanished before she could get a clear look. Sometimes she made out claws scrabbling over stone, other times there was a flash of red eyes staring at her from beyond the broken walls and doors of the outlying buildings. Every now and then a tail, covered in dull black scales, slithered across the ground.

Never enough for her to be certain of what she saw, and even Athena stayed quiet on the matter.

“You alright?” Rainbow asked as dawn neared, her question making Fleur jump.

“Oui… I am just nervous, I suppose.” She laughed away her embarrassment, and put her fears aside.

Snorting, Rainbow sat down with a grunt next to Fleur where it was dry. “For good reason. These kinds of places are the worst. I wish Twilight would hurry up so we could get off this rock already. It’s too much like the Temple of the Soulless in Daring Do and the Tablet of Destiny; golem sentinels, and who knows what else next. And there will be more; there always is in the books.”

As if in agreement, a distant thump from one of the Bellerophon’s cannon’s crossed the island. Hearing the ship still firing brought both relief and worry. Whatever was happening at the shore, the ship had not fallen.

“You did good out there, you know.” The begrudging tone to Rainbow’s voice made Fleur lift an eye. “It’s just, you struck me as the prissy type… kinda like Rarity. Or… the old Rarity. Before we started going on adventures I mean. Though she’s always been tough, I guess, under the frills and lace. And I am making a mess of this. What I am trying to say is that you really helped out, and thanks.”

Fleur shook her head and found herself unable to maintain eye contact. “I am no hero. If not for a magic spear, I would have been useless to everypony. Not like you and the other Elements. Even Athena was impressed with you tonight.”

“Yeah? Well, I am awesome.” Rainbow puffed out her chest and grinned wide, though Fleur detected the deep, underlying doubts in the pegasus. “What did she say, exactly. Just, you know, out of curiosity.”

“That you are a true hero, and remind her of the ancient pegasi.”

A dopey grin flourished on Rainbow’s face, and she tossed back her head in a squawking laugh. Patting Fleur on the withers, Rainbow said with a long chuckle, “You’re alright, Fleur,” and then got up to patrol the perimeter again.

With the sun risen, Fleur at last relaxed and laid her head down to rest. The dawn quieted the heavens, though, curiously, Fleur noted more than a few stars still shining within the blue sheen.

An hour more passed without incident, then two. Fleur managed only a short nap, her eyes seeming to close only for a moment, but for the sun to almost reach its zenith in the span of that blink. It was at that same time the golems reappeared, but did not attack. They stood around the camp, four hundred in number, and ranging in size from a little bigger than a filly, to one that was twenty hooves tall in the shoulder.

Weary and hungry, Fleur snatched up Pallas and brought Aegis close to her side. Likewise, all the sailors and soldiers readied themselves. Magic was prepared, bolts readied in heavy siege-crossbows, and war-shoes rang beneath stamped hooves.

From out of sight came the curdling howl of some beast, and the golems lurched into a charge.

Magic danced through the air around River, floating off her small antlers in puffs of fey fire before moving off into the distance. Ancient in design, the spell was only comprised of a single runes shaped by River’s will. In this sense, it wasn’t even a proper spell as practiced by the rest of the disc. Imprecise and terribly inefficient compared to more traditional spellcraft, but River didn’t know any other magic capable of producing the same result.

Not alone in casting the spell, four of her best apprentices were spread around the camp at equidistant intervals forming a five pointed star. In this manner, by working their magic together, they heightened and layered the effects, and in turn created the actual spell. Each acted as a single part of the structure, River forming the spell’s base, three of her apprentices the frame, and the fourth the cap. It was the same methodology used for thousands of years by the Solar Cabal. Though, their spellwork was far less complex than those worked by the unicorns of old.

Flopping into the tall grass, the fey fire burned for a few seconds before fading away. Together, they formed a powerful barrier in a perfect circle that kept those of vile intentions out. The barrier could not bar the doshaa entry indefinitely, and it had to be continually maintained, members of the circle rotated out as they grew exhausted, but it would protect those within from being possessed for a time. Long enough to deal with the situation. Or so she hoped.

Letting her magic fade, River’s place was taken by Little Hoof, her most seasoned apprentice smiling at the honour. She stayed to watch only a few minutes to make sure the casting didn’t falter with the exchange before moving off to find a place to rest and regather her strength. Holding back a yawn, River sat down in the shade to watch the road leading to Diamonds Down.

Underneath the somber orange glow of twilight, the approaching crowd of ponies were easy to distinguish, as were the makeshift weapons they carried. Mostly torches and pitchforks from the flickering lights and pronged shadows. A few proper weapons were among the mob as well, in the form of a some spears and a single large pony decked in what had to be armour forged during the War of the Sun and Moon.

Ponies, at least, knew their traditions, River wrily thought to herself.

Behind River, a creche rhyme drifted from the fawns’ caretakers as they readied the little ones to be taken to a hiding place in the nearby woods.

Left unspoken, the words hovered on River’s tongue in time to the slow tune.

‘Oh, little halla, don’t you run and play; hear what your elders have to say.

Monsters lurk in the depths of night; waiting to steal you from the light.

When they catch you do not look; fear not the bloody, dangling hook.

Your end is near and you cannot run; this is the end of your fun.’

With great care, River drew her mother’s sword and held it in front of her. She stared at the golden runes running down the fuller and the intricate pegasi that formed the crosspiece. Her wintery magic flickered along the the hilt, small puffs of aether popping where her grip was uncertain.

“What would you do, mother, were you me? What would the Sorceress do?” She threw back her head as a bitter laugh burst from her, shoulders sagging from a growing weight. “Fie! As if I do not know. You would march ahead, alone, and tell the ponies to disperse, and when they did not, you would summon some beast or spirit to drive them away. Perhaps one or two would be hurt, maybe even killed, and you would not shed a tear, or so the scullery maids would have me believe. Or maybe you’d give the filly over. What is she to you, after all? Is that what I should do?”

River took a deep breath and sheathed Llallawynn, allowing the familiar weight to act as balm for her conflicted heart.

“It is a good thing I am not you, mother,” she said with an odd sort of chuckle, like a dry wind blowing through reeds. “Fie, what you would have done to the milk headed sods in Thornhaven that claim to be grandmasters, so terrified of you they would not allow me to learn your true name. You would not have run away with your tail between your legs seeking succor from the Springbringer, of that I am sure.”

River returned to considering the ponies again until they vanished behind a last knoll.

“Perhaps I am wrong. I know so little about you, mother. Only what few scraps could be gleaned overhearing whispers. How everyone trembles at your memory. Yet, I do not even know your name.”

Her ears flickered towards the final whisper of flint gliding over steel and the general commotion of hooves rushing to answer sharp commands. The relaxed air of the season was gone, transformed into one heavy with the anticipation of battle. She didn’t get up when the ponies began to reappear, their pace slowed to a determined trot on seeing the gathering lines of the halla.

For what was to come, River had no role. She was the herd’s spiritual centre, the driving force behind their self-imposed exile, but not their day-to-day leader. Besides, everyone already knew their roles in a fight. The Bears would take the lead, with the rest of the herd at their backs. Only a few of the creche-mothers would sit the fight out to tend to the fawns. If a fight came at all.

The crunch of gravel alerted River that her solitude had come to an end. Ear twisted towards the sound, she needed not look to know it was Mountain, his heavy tread easy to discern.

“I’ve been trying to decide what to do,” she stated as way of greeting, head turned a little so Mountain was visible at the corner of her eye. “Why is it coming to this? This is Equestria, and the dominion of the Sun. Why has Celestia abandoned her little ponies?”

He frowned a little, his mustache drooping just enough to look like a limp caterpillar attached to his upper lip.

“‘Wicked were Her ways, maggots falling in Her hoofprints. Gone were the sparks from the village, the eyes of ponies dead to look upon. ‘Fear me,’ spake the demon, ‘for I hast taken all hope of tomorrow.’ Forsaken, the ponies laid down, and were dead.’” Mountain sucked in a long breath through his nose. “The goddesses have much to contend with. Guessing after their absence is pointless. The doshaa has that village wrapped around his hoof, and we protect our own.”

River curled her upper lip in a snarl. “My mother would have found a way to protect her herd and the ponies. She’d have refused the disc telling her it was impossible and clawed herself a new path with bloody hooves, if she must.” Mountain gave her a sideways glance. Quickly, before he could break into her thoughts, she continued. “I know I place her deeds on a pedestal, one I can never hope to compare. Maybe it would be easier if I had more than a title to judge her by. It is so easy to see only great and terrible deeds, and not the pony formed of losses and triumphs, filled with private hopes and doubts when all you know is that she is The Sorceress and could command archons, demons, and more with but a breath. How can I hope to compare? How can I hope to protect my halla? I lead you into exile, and it was my curiosity that dragged us into this conflict. We have no place here, not when demons and alicorns prepare for war. What chance do mortals like us have against such forces?” River brushed back her mane, weary over what approached.

Mountained did not respond.

After a few more minutes, she asked, “Everything is ready?”

“We may be far from our home, but we are halla; there is little preparation to be made. The fawns have been gathered. They are a little anxious, but otherwise think it a game. Spears have been sharpened, shields are at the ready, and all that. Assuming the ponies decide to fight. They are a skittish lot, even with their strings being pulled. I’ve seen voles less jumpy on an open field as a sparrow hawk circled overhead.” Mountain shook with laughter at some memory, his small, blue eyes crinkling in the corner as his low, owlish hoots flowed past River. “Oh,” he said when his amusement had come to an end and he stood to leave, “Trixie is going to sneak off with the foal.”

River nodded at the information. She suspected the trickster would try to escape.

It was for the best they left. The doshaa had no interest in the halla, and, once he realised Trixie was using them as a distraction, would chase after her. He’d attempt to cause some havoc to cover his pursuit, but otherwise, the halla were beneath his contempt or concern.

But it was a trap. He wanted Trixie and Shyara separated and away from the halla. In the woods he could take his leisure in capturing the filly-goddess.

It would not be long until the ponies arrived, a half hour at best. The doshaa timed it just so that Sol would set moments before they arrived.

Shaking her head at the futility of the ponies, River left her spot and went to find Trixie. A good two dozen battle-ready halla already waited at the edge of the camp, grim faced and spears leaning against their shoulders in ready anticipation. They nodded and bowed to the Grand Master of the Lions as she passed, the devotion in their large brown eyes leaving her with a hollowness in her heart.

She did not deserve their trust.

Finding Trixie at her tent along with Shyara brought a little surprised snort from River, only because she’d half-assumed the pair would have already vanished.

“I’m just saying, Trixie, that even if they kill all the ponies—which is a very real possibility!—the demon won’t be stopped. Not unless we do something really drastic.”

Shyara sat on a log next to the open tent, her face long and sour. Inside, Trixie threw her possessions into a set of saddlebags in rough order, stuffing this and that in a heap before flipping the weaved flaps down. Over her withers, she tossed her cape and perched her ratty old hat on her head.

Watching them squabble made River smile and shake her head at her earlier reticence towards helping the pair. If the Springbringer could have seen her, she’d have had strong words for such callousness.

Wracked by an incredulous laugh, Trixie thumped a hoof to her chest. “It almost killed Trixie last time, and that was with the help of… that other cloud-thing. No, we have to get far, far away from here. Maybe lose it in the mountains.”

Clearing her throat to announce her presence, River stepped up to the pair. “Any old mountain will not do. The doshaa can follow the little goddess, no matter where she runs, and he is enlisting more and more help in capturing her.” River shook her antlers in the direction of the villagers.

“That is what I’ve been saying,” Shyara tossed up her hooves and rolled off the log. “My real mother wouldn't run from a mere doshaa.”

Trixie stiffened, paused, then tightened the straps of her saddlebags. “It is a good thing Trixie isn’t your real mother then, isn’t it,” she snapped and marched out of the tent. “Because Trixie can see only one solution now; she will take you to Canterlot!”

Whatever reaction Trixie expected, she did not receive it as such. She held a triumphant hoof in the air, while Shyara slunk down and buried her head in her hooves. Head tilted to one side, River turned the idea over in her head.

As plans went, it was not the worst. No demon save perhaps the greatest dukes and kings would consider venturing near the home of the goddesses. Only a few such beings had ever darkened the disc with their presence, and almost all had subsequently been banished. There was no place safer on the disc for a young alicorn.

The trouble was reaching the sanctuary. Canterlot was hundreds of leagues away. There was no way Trixie and Shyara could avoid falling into the demon’s clutches the entire way without magical assistance of some sort. By the same measure, all the rather limited options required outside intervention. Without the aid of one of the goddesses, River could not see any happy conclusion.

“You, perchance, know how to teleport?” River asked after turning the rather limited options over in her head a second time. Trixie shook her head. “What about… uh… a bilröst? Does Equestria have such?”

“Trixie has no idea what a ‘bilröst’ is supposed to be.”

“Um, a bridge,” River furrowed her brow as she fought to find the proper translation. “It connects to places so you can travel fast over great distances.”

“You mean a Gate?” Trixie tossed back her head and snorted, then laughed, when River nodded. “You read too many stories, Mother River. Trixie has never heard or seen of a functional Gate. Even the supposed Gold Gate to Tartarus or the Silver Gate of Saddle Arabia have never opened, except in the Book of Names. Next you’ll ask if Trixie can turn into a dragon to fly away!”

“Fie, such magic died with Sombra, sadly,” River gruffly replied, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. The mention of the old wizard did bring to mind another possibility. On her side, Llallawynn felt a little lighter. “We will simply have to kill the demon then.”

“Yes! Exactly! Smite it, and smite it again, until it slinks back to whatever hole it calls home.” Shyara clapped her hooves while Trixie looked as if River had gone mad.

“If you have forgotten, that monster already killed Trixie once, and was only stopped because of…” Trixie’s incredulous voice clamped shut, her eyes drifting over to Shyara before reaffixing themselves to River. “How do you propose killing such a thing?”

With a sharp ring, River drew her sword and said, “With this.”

Shyara’s eyes danced with delight, and the filly grinned wider still, while Trixie looked if anything, more incredulous. “That’s a starforged sword,” Shyara cooed, jumping off her stump to get a better look at the weapon. “Double-edged, starheart steel with gold plated cross-guard and a blue diamond pommel; Mother used to have one just like her. This could work. Where did she come from?”

“Once she was the star Wynn,” River explained, turning the sword this way and that so Shyara could see it from every angle. “She was trapped in her own sword by Iridia during the Long Winter.”

“That would do it.” Shyara nodded.

“The only problem is she answers to me alone.”

Shyara’s grin faded, her eyes darting over River a few times and then wincing. Putting on a brave smile to replace the one she’d taken from the filly, River said, “I will do my best to keep you safe. Pray I succeed. Should I fail, Trixie, go with your plan. Go to Canterlot.”

River bowed to Shyara and took her leave, making her way towards where the other halla gathered. Along the way she checked on her apprentices. The strain of the spell showed on their faces, sweat trickling down their brows and Little Hoof having to be replaced by Whispering Brook.

Only a little longer, River said to herself, and they’d be able to rest.

River stopped next to the memorial made for Astraea. There in it’s deepening shadow they watched as Mountain and the herd’s heads calmly trotted towards the approaching ponies to parley. No more than a few lengths from each other, the two groups came to a halt on either side of the invisible boundary and began to speak. Pine Lake did most of the talking, with Blue Bramble and Mountain at her sides. They were too far away for River to overhear what was said, but from the angry glares the ponies gave, it was obvious that a peaceful resolution was unlikely.

A prickling sensation along the ridges of her antlers alerted River to a shift in the magical currents. She turned her gaze heavenward, and what she saw drove her to her knees with a strangled cry.

From one edge of the disc to the other, the sky was sundered and erupted with iridescent flames. It was the most brilliant aurora seen in an age, as bright, or perhaps brighter, than the one that had preceded the appearance of Discord and the Age of Chaos. Everyone was struck dumb by the sight, the halla giving prayers to Iridia, and the ponies to Faust or Celestia.

Before the flames had begun to fade, all chaos broke loose. A flash from the boundary being shattered broke the newfound night, followed by a long, bubbling scream. Their attention wrenched away from the glory in the heavens, halla and pony alike watched as Pine Lake fell, a long stream of blood flowing from the matron’s throat. The ponies attempted to back away, while Mountain lept ahead, his bladed antlers put to grim use on the villagers’ entourage. Bramble did not join the charge, dropping instead to press his hooves and magic to Pine’s neck in a futile effort to stem the blood gushing from his wife.

There was no hesitation or need for orders among the halla. They surged forward with lowered spears and rage in their eyes. Their hooves ripped clumps of loose sod from the earth as they thundered towards the confused ponies. River stood transfixed and dumbstruck as the halla formed into a wedge moments before the bone rattling thump of them colliding with the villagers. Orders to spare the ponies as much harm as possible were abandoned, the savageness of the matron’s loss driving the halla into a fever pitch. Only a few remembered to blunt their strikes, while the herd’s only wizard and his apprentice did their best to protect both sides.

“Iridia preserve us,” River whispered, breaking from her stupor with a violent shake and ran forward. The demon would be at the heart of events. She had to find him. She had to kill him.

With the barrier broken, the demon did not even attempt to hide his presence. River could taste the foulness in the air, like puss and brimstone mixing together. She could feel dark magic worming its way into her mind, attempting to pull and twist at her senses. It was this magic that fueled the bloodlust, stoking it to greater heights of frenzy. Gritting her teeth and forming her faith as a shield, River plunged deeper into the seeping madness. All around she looked, but for all the effects of the demon’s magic, he himself remained hidden.

Not for long, however, as out of the dusky gloom and smoke Mountain emerged, eyes lifeless and pale. River’s heart plummeted, and she cursed herself a fool for not realising sooner that of course the doshaa would be drawn to the most powerful of the halla’s defenders.

He was not dead, though River was certain that Mountain wished for death at that moment, a prisoner within his own body, forced to watch as the demon used him to commit such terrible acts.

“The Springbringer will not aid you,” the doshaa growled as he approached. “And now, neither will Celestia nor Luna. Your kind will be hunted down by the princesses, and they will not listen to a word you say.”

Along with the demon’s words came a stronger compulsion, slashing through her sanity and hope. She grit her teeth tighter, and pushed back with her faith. The first Priestess of Spring in fifteen hundred years, River would not be driven back by the fiendish presence. Holding her devotion to Iridia close, she tried to keep her legs from trembling.

“If you think taking one of us will stay our hooves, you do not know halla.” River held Llallawynn so the sword’s point angled towards the demon’s heart, and leapt forward.

The demon did not even try to dodge. He merely stood there and grinned. River’s resolve faltered, and Llallawynn’s point was turned aside at the last moment to drive into the ground. She stared at her failure, heart sinking while the demon loomed larger. Nothing was said as he swept his antlers into River’s shoulder, but it didn’t need saying. The sneer in those eyes, ones she’d known her entire life, crushed her contempt.

“To think, this is the limit of The Sorceress’ daughter?” The doshaa snorted. “How she would be disappointed to see how pathetic you turned out. She is feared! You, however, are not even worthy of consideration. You shame her House, River Sparkle.”

No physical blow could have struck so heavy or with such destructive force as the demon’s words.

In that moment she knew that she’d failed her friends, family, and goddess. A test had been placed before her, one she held no doubt her mother would have passed. Her mother would have struck Mountain down, and with him the demon. Her mother would have ended the threat, no matter the cost. Her mother would have been stronger, faster, smarter, and practical.

Not River. A foolish fawn; that was all she’d ever been. One chasing after a shadow and myth. As if it were possible to live up to the expectations of a legend. She’d never had to face a challenge before, everything provided in her gilded prison. A prison she’d enjoyed even as she chafed against its walls.

Consumed with her inability to strike, River did not process the revelation of her mother-name, nor see the steel tipped antlers descend until it was too late.

Blades tore through robe and sinew, cutting her to the bone before sending her sprawling in the dirt. The demon abandoned her there, stepping over her with less concern than he would show a felled tree. “Live or die; it matters not. High Priestess; indeed!”

She stared after him as he left, unable to move or speak. All around her were screams of fear, pain, and rage, but they were distant and blurred as if coming through a thick window. Even the searing agony in her legs was muted, seeming a terrible fantasy drawn from whatever Tartarus induced nightmare into which she’d been plunged.

Blood coursing down her leg, River stood up and staggered away. Llallawynn followed, point scraping through the grass. Her aura clung to the hilt through rote memory and no conscious effort.

Unable to go far, River fell against a tree, eyes rolling as the loss of blood caught up with her. The approach of hooves and then faces looming over her hardly registered, and the touch of magic to her shoulder was acknowledged with little more than a grunt.

Slowly, the world sharpened once more and River looked up to see her faithful apprentices hunched over her, their faces grim and splattered with blood. Little Hoof and Whispering Brook worked in tandem, one binding the wound while the other accelerated the healing process. Both wore the signs of their earlier maintenance of the useless protective wards in their eyes, haggard lines making the does look like old hinds.

“Master, what happened?” Little Hoof asked as they finished their work. “One moment everything was fine, then the heavens tore open, the ward was shattered like a brittle pot filled with frozen piss kicked down a rocky hill, and everyelk is gone mad!”

“Her Grace and the pony; where are they?” River gripped Little Hoof’s leg tight, demanding an answer with the urgency in her eyes as much as her tone.

Confused for just a moment, Little Hoof pointed off further, towards the fields and woods towards the town. “I saw them a-running that way as if Sombra himself were breathing fire on their tails. Lord Mountain has already gone to protect them, don’t worry Master. He’ll keep them safe from the monster.”

“No, he won’t,” River hissed through her teeth and pulled herself to her hooves. Her legs trembled, and the disc spun again for a moment. Tossing off both her apprentices protests and dizziness, she set off at once. She had to catch up to the demon and atone for her failure. “Tend to the ponies, save all you can,” she commanded.

“But, they killed our—”

“They did not! Now, do as I say.” She stared the pair down until the turned and fled to do as they’d been ordered. Not sparing her apprentices another moment’s consideration, River focused ahead on the woods and finding Mountain.

Perhaps her test was not yet over. Perhaps there was time to make things right. Trusting herself to the Springbringer, River plunged into the woods.

The Everfree was at its worst. Which was to say muddy, with snagging thorns at every turn and a chill, humid mist lingering just above the detritus, hiding roots and shallow dips that snared Rarity’s hooves, tripping her up and sending her crashing into the dirt.

Bruises covered her knees and a smelly, grey grime matted her coat up to her shoulders. Her once bouncy mane clung to her neck in a hard crust of twigs, leaves, and mud from when she’d tumbled down a short embankment. Sweat prickled her entire body, especially her face where it ran down in thick rivulets.

Rarity hadn’t felt so wretched in years.

‘Disgusting thing. So weak, a victim of your own debase nature. You are chattel and incapable of being anything more.’

Gritting her teeth, Rarity stumbled to a stop beneath a gnarled and twisted tree, crumpling into a miserable heap at its base. Hooves thrown over her face, a cry of anguish flowed out of Rarity and into the somber forest. She shook and wept, and when she scrubbed furiously at her face, she found not ordinary tears clinging to her fetlock, but semi-liquid crystals of startling blue.

‘It can not be helped that you are frail, mortal. Your strength is fleeting and so easily snuffed, like a candle cast into the storm. Soon, I will be free, and none who stand between me and my daughters shall be left untouched. Mark well, Rarity Belle, you are the vessel of my greatness.’

Clutching her head, Rarity tried to shake off the tormenting words. “I will stop you, you horrible thing,” Rarity said, her voice seething between gritted teeth. “Even if it takes all my magic, I’ll find a way to stop you.”

‘You are fated to fail, for I am Serene, and I will sculpt your ugliness into true Beauty.’

Rarity growled deeper, the sound almost feral in it’s impotent rage, and made ready to continue onwards into the dark unknown depths.

A clatter made Rarity jump, magic sparking to the ready as she spun to face whatever beast the Everfree threw at her.

Rather than a vicious manticore, or some other dark horror, the perpetrator was only a burnished red fox staring at her from atop a fallen tree. The golden dusk framed it, making its fur glow and shimmer in the fading light. Rarity began to chuckle at her own foolishness, but stopped short when seven tails fanned out behind it.

A slow chill spread up her back. Each of the fox’s tails were tipped by different white runes that shimmered and pulsed with magic imprinted into the fur. She recognised only two of the runes, those for ‘Grace’ and ‘Fire’, the rest lying somewhere beyond her knowledge.

Rarity wracked her brain to recall the creature’s name and whether it was a threat or not.

The seven-tailed fox certainly didn’t appear dangerous, an impression that was wholly suspect when applied to anything that would call the Everfree home.

Eventually, a name came to Rarity. “You are a kitsune, yes?”

The fox tilted her head but otherwise did not react.

“A nice, um, spirit?” Rarity held her breath, hoping she’d guessed the fox’s nature correctly. She was fairly certain that kitsune were spirits. About seventy percent certain. That was near enough.

The fox grinned, showing her fangs, and jumped down from the log. Swaying like a runway model, the fox approached Rarity with confidence born of many years glimmering in her eyes. Shadows parted like curtains for the fox, the trees opening their limbs so she walked down a sunlit path. Stopping just out of hoof’s reach, nose twitching with curiosity and ears perked forward, the fox stared deep into Rarity’s eyes without any hint of timidness or fear.

An idea came a Rarity. A stupid one, perhaps, but she didn’t know what else to do.

“Do you know Zecroa?” The fox hopped back, ears flicking downwards. “She’s a zebra shaman and lives in this forest. If you can get a message to her…” Rarity’s throat closed off and she looked away in embarrassment.

Of course the fox—kitsune, or whatever—didn’t know Zecora. Why should she be so lucky?

Darting a little further away, the fox stopped to look back at Rarity and made a waving motion with her tails. Blinking a few times at the gesture, Rarity forced herself up onto her tired hooves and started to follow the fox. Perhaps her idea had not been so terrible after-all.

Deeper into the woods, the kitsune lead her, skipping lightly over fallen trees and through misty gullies. Whenever she got too far ahead, the fox stopped, watching Rarity until she caught up before dashing off again. Twice they crossed deep set prints of one of the more dangerous beasts of the Everfree, and once a trail marked with old hoofprints—one set big, the other small.

The sight made Rarity grin a little. It had to have been made by Zecora and Apple Bloom during one of their excursions through the forest. A little spring added to her step, she hurried after the kitsune.

Her hooves began to skip across the ground, and Rarity almost laughed the further she was lead. At any moment Zecora and Apple Bloom would appear, the pair no doubt surprised to see Rarity in the woods, and especially in such a state. Those thoughts, along with her momentum, came to an abrupt halt on rounding a old stone column, hooves clattering on a short square of bare cobblestones. Her eyes widened on seeing, not Zecora’s totem surrounded hut, but a run down temple.

The more she peered at the building’s ancient stone face, with it’s doors open and windows empty—save for a few lingering shards of glass stuck in their frames—the more she came to realise that ‘run down’ did not do credit to the temple’s dilapidated nature. Cracks ran up the walls in zig-zags, one side open with tumbled stones littering the ground, trees growing around and over large square blocks. The fox sat expectantly on the stairs, smiling at her and motioning again with her tail before slipping into the ruins.

Maybe Zecora was inside, doing… something.

Rarity gulped at the fleeting thought, her eyes darting to the lengthening shadows of the Everfree. A timberwolf howling in the near-distance spurred her up the dirt encrusted steps and saw her guess to be correct, fresh hoofprints leading into the temple. A deep furrow cutting through the moss and dirt showed where the door had been forced open recently, further confirming Rarity’s belief that Zecora was within. Head held low to avoid a fallen beam, Rarity stepped through the ruin’s door.

Inside, she found nothing.

The temple’s furniture, and anything not made of ageless stone, had long since rotted into oblivion, leaving only piles of unidentifiable debris in lines and clumps where benches and tables might have once stood. Only a stone altar and statue remained, both sitting beneath a hole in the roof, illuminated by the dusk sun through a slant in the trees.

Narrowing her eyes, Rarity followed the hoofprints right up to the statue where the fox sat, grinning. There, the prints circled a few times before vanishing.

She blinked, trying to process how the prints just disappeared, her gaze trailing inexorably up to the statue.

A few stubborn flakes of red paint clung to the marble statue’s mane. Not that the paint was at all required for Rarity to recognise the Namegiver. The statue almost seemed alive, the way the approaching dusk played across its features. Her breath hitched in her throat, and, for a few precious moments, she was certain the statue would take a breath and step off her plinth.

“A silly idea,” Rarity huffed turning away, looking for the kitsune. “Why did you bring me here?” she started to demand of the kitsune, only to find it standing on the ledge of a broken wall. Motioning with a paw for her to stay, the kitsune leapt over the edge, re-appearing further away on the rise of a sunlit hill where it stopped and made the same gesture again before vanishing into the forest.

For a few, agonizing minutes Rarity gaped at the spot the kitsune had stood, expecting her to re-emerge at any moment with Zecora, or somepony, in tow.

“Fine then, I’ll find my own way,” Rarity snapped, ready to leave the ruins.

The grinding of stone on stone stopped her, hackles rising and a chill whispering down her neck. Eyes wide, Rarity turned her head slowly looking back to the statue. It moved. With wings stretched out, the statue released a long, drowsy moan and shook, the gathered grim from her withers and head filling the air in a cloud of white.

“Faust!” Rarity cried, dropping to her knees in supplication.

“Time we do not have for greetings or banter, Generosity.” The statue’s words were quick and precise, inflected with a lilting grace that sent a thrill into Rarity’s racing heart. The oddness at hearing such a pure, sweet voice from the statue surprised Rarity far more than it coming to life. “Moments, no more, until She returns from taunting the Stars. Listen quick, and listen well. Take our tablet. Take it and use it to cast out the foulness that grasps at thy soul.” With a wave of her stone hoof a tablet appeared, hovering just before Rarity.

Rarity’s horn prickled, her nerves crawling like she was covered in spiders as a rush of raw and primordial magic flooded through the ruins. It’s face shifted constantly, flashing through languages never spoken on the disc and those lost to antiquity before reaching a few Rarity recognised but could not read. Overcome by the magic, she tried to step back, eyes darting to the side and wanting nothing more than to run, but was rooted to the spot.

Rarity had pioneered techniques on creating multilayered enchantments by binding them into individual threads before weaving the fabric. Yet the complexity of the tablet was beyond anything she’d dared imagine. It hurt to look on the ever shifting glyphs and her heart sank to know that she would never be able to create something with a thousandth the quality. Worse, the tablet carried the characteristics of something both new, and something that had existed for three eternities, at the same time. The incongruency of the tablet’s existence filled Rarity with a dread she’d not experienced since Serene had first made herself known.

Everything about the tablet’s existence was wrong. It did not belong on the disc; of this Rarity was certain.

Questions danced on Rarity’s lips, and in the back of her mind she could sense Serene’s building ire. About to ask what she was expected to do with the tablet, Rarity found the statue already settled back on her pedestal, returning to her previous pose.

“Hush, I must go. Envy returns and she must not know we spoke.”

“No, wait!” A pleading hoof reached for the statue, but it was too late. “Tell me what to do!” Rarity screamed at the impassive statue. Grabbing a stone in her magic, she hurled it and chipped the statue’s eye. “Tell me, damn you, Faust!”

Rarity slumped against the statue’s base. She wanted to continue screaming, or cry again, but instead all she did was wilt and tremble, eyelids pressed tight. Part of her prayed that, at any moment, Celestia would come through the broken doorway, summoned by some ancient warning spell.

No help appeared out of the gloom to whisk her to safety. She was alone, again, with only the tormenting shade clawing at her sanity. If not for the tablet, Rarity would have thought herself mad and believed Faust’s statue speaking to her had only been in her head.

Frustration building in her throat, she grabbed the tablet with her hooves and raised it as if to hurl the useless thing. She jerked back, unbalanced by its lightness, as if it were made of foam and not stone. Held just over her head, Rarity peered at the shifting words and was overcome with curiosity, along with a fleeting flicker of hope. It availed her nothing. No matter how she turned it, it’s secrets remained hidden from her eyes.

Unleashing a feral growl, she hurled the tablet down, a crack resounding throughout the temple as stone met stone.

She expected Serene’s taunting voice at any moment, but all she got was a budding dark amusement from the shade gnawing on her soul.

Weary, broken, and defeated, Rarity collapsed onto the hard floor. The weight of this fresh failure, atop all those that had come before, was too great. She rolled onto her side, resting her head against the tablet and letting tears trickle down her face.

She cursed her inability to defeat the shade. A word to Fluttershy, that is all and the princesses would have been involved.

Dejected and alone, she couldn’t muster the strength to stand, much less resume wandering through the forest. The temple was as good a place as any to rest and pass the night. Better than some muddy hole, at least. Where she would go on the morning eluded her.

As she lay there, hopes in a spiral, night came to the disc, and the sky bloomed with a wondrous sight. Curtains of dancing light floated across the velvet tapestry, like a dozen Celestias had taken to racing each other, their manes and tails flowing behind in their passing.

For ages the auroras shimmered, and the whole time Rarity prayed. She prayed to Faust, to Celestia and Luna, and even to Twilight, but nopony answered. This defeat was the worst yet, and Rarity covered her face as inconsolable tears ran down her cheeks to drip onto the tablet.

At some point, sleep claimed her, dragging her down into turbulent, tortuous dreams. She wandered through shifting fields and places. One moment in her old home in Baltimare overlooking a shining desert plied by tall ships and rowing galleys, having dinner with her father, and both mothers, all of them ghostly apparitions. In the next she stood atop Canterlot Castle looking out over a sea of torches. Plumes of fire reached up in the distance, and she thought them rather pretty, but wished that they would not come her way.

She turned at a noise, the massive doors of the palace’s Great Hall open wide before her. The Gala of the Stars was in full swing as she entered. Moving through the crowd with practiced ease, she could not but smile, stopping to chat with nearly everypony she passed. Senators and kings all vied for her attention, lavishing kisses upon her hooves, and, wherever she went, everypony bowed and scraped for a single moment of her smile.

Nearing the heart of the party, the crowd thinned out, then disappeared, and Rarity was alone. Warmth prickled along her back and flanks, growing until it was a sharp heat as though she was standing next to a bonfire. A flicker of orange caught her attention, and, turning, she saw Celestia.

The princess sat upon a sunburst throne at the very heart of the palace gardens, both the source of an immense blaze, and surrounded by it. The shrubs and topiary waved and crackled in a pantomime of flames as they paced in a slow, methodical circle. Ponies of all shapes and sorts formed leafy walls and closed in around them. To either side of Celestia stood a champion burning with the echoes of her flames, the unicorns bent forward as they brushed her coat and put her mane into an intricate braid.

One of the topiary, that of a phoenix, plumed with rose petals for wings and tail, flew in a lazy circle around Celestia, haranguing her with a torrent of chirps and chitters. There was an accusatory line to the mythical topiary’s face, beak turned downward into a disapproving frown.

Rarity hesitated at the garden’s edge, immobile, her hooves bound to the grass. Words danced towards the edge of her lips, but became tumbled and confused, only a weak whimper passing into the garden.

Celestia stiffened and raised her head, but said nothing. She turned slowly towards Rarity and would have stared at her if not for the golden embroided cloth wrapped over her eyes. Twin suns rose behind the princess, each a mirror of the other, with glorious fire unconquered and untamed.

Heart skipping a beat, Rarity found herself next Celestia without taking a step. Around her barrel appeared a simple toga, a tri-gemmed clasp holding the single shoulder strap, while in her curled mane lay a laurel wreath. She turned and took her rightful place at Celestia’s side, the unicorns tending to the princess vanishing, while a great army appeared beyond the garden.

Banners bearing the marks Sol Invictus’ spiral sun were joined by others with filigree entwined gems. To a thunderous din they were stamped and shaken, creating a rolling sea of gold, white, and blue. Commanders and generals, kings and queens marched forth from the ranks to lay treasures and plunder before the twin thrones. From all the corners of Gaea and Ioka they had come to heap their tributes before the goddesses. Hoof raised, Rarity called for silence from the army, her army, a wide grin growing on her face as she turned to ask Celestia if she appreciated this gift.

She studied the princess, basking in Celestia’s unnatural beauty as she would the sun on a pleasant summer day. Everything about her was perfection. Her features were so strong, and nurturing, filled with compassion, love, and warmth that so few got to see. Poets wrote sonnets about Celestia’s mane, none of which ever managed to do the graceful strands true justice. She was more beautiful still, sitting on her throne and eyes ablaze with deep seated passions, the lines of her jaw tense.

Releasing a breath she had been unaware of holding, Rarity said, “You are so beautiful, Celestia,”

There was a ripple through the dreams, cracks forming at the edges of Rarity’s vision, cracks that vanished when she peered in their direction.

The heat emanating from Celestia and the topiary flared, and the army before them was blown away by a sharp gust of burning wind, ashen remains carried off in a dark cloud.

Celestia’s features contorted through a range of emotions, many dark or filled with a searing, seething undercurrent. An ear flickered towards Rarity, but no other sign was given that she’d heard her. Instead, her focus remained ahead, on the fields now covered in a hundred thousand tombstones. She snarled, upper lip curling, wings rigid in her fury, hooves digging at the cushion on which she sat, and smoke trailing out from beneath the blindfold covering her face.

“Why do you torment yourself?” Rarity asked, more to herself than the perfect mare.

The knot holding the blindfold together came undone and fell away, revealing Celestia’s beautiful eyes. Her mane billowed, freed by the same wind that had carried away the soldiers, aetherial strands whipping around her in an echo of the aurora.

“To remember. If I allowed myself to… Every time I touched that power others suffered,” Celestia answered, still looking ahead.

Rarity nodded slowly, and reached up to adjust the admiral’s hat perched just behind her horn before crossing the deck of the Sea Serpent. The crew were arrayed around her and Celestia, all wearing their padded battle-dress. Spears were at their shoulders and shields strapped to their sides, plumed helmets pulled low to hide fierce grins and hollow eyes. They sailed over green fields towards a mountain hanging in the sky.

“That can not be true,” Rarity murmured, coming closer to her fellow admiral. “You give so much of yourself, more than any pony I have ever met.”

Her hooves wrapped around Celestia, and she tried to pull her down onto the soft bed that awaited them in their shared bedroom. She buried her face into the princess’ neck, a delightful warmth seeping through the contact.

A long purr broke from Rarity as she nuzzled in deeper. “Mmm, so warm and safe, I wish this could last forever.”

‘Nothing lasts for you mortals. Your fleeting gasps are short and quickly stilled. You can not begin to conceive of ‘forever’.’

Serene’s words shattered the happy illusions, fractured layers of the dream spiralling around Rarity.

“No. No. Not now. Not you.” Panic trembled through the words, tinted by resentment and loathing. “Can’t you even allow me to dream in peace?”

Clutching her head, she tried to dislodge the shade from her dream, to return to the wonderful quilts and Celestia’s presence. Cruel laughter and a dreadful chill was all she found. Frustrated tears prickled beneath Rarity’s eyes at the loss. Everything was wrong and ruined.

Shrieking louder, Rarity lashed out with a hoof, trying to swat the laughter aside.

“Go away. Faust damn you, go away!”

Such simple words could no more banish the shade than a candle could end the night. Serene struck hard and true, slithering around Rarity and shrieking, “Usurpers! Usurpers all!” as she sought to snuff out Rarity’s light.

Shouting pleas and denials, Rarity thrashed against Serene. She held onto the dream with desperate hooves, seeking succor in its pleasantness. Across a great gulf came Celestia’s questioning voice, and Rarity tried to call to the princess, but the words turned into a long, dragging growl in her throat. Serene gripped her all the tighter and yanked. All the remaining heat from the dream was lost, knocked from Rarity on landing at the base of the statue’s hooves.

Pulled tighter into a ball, Rarity couldn’t even cry out as she was surrounded by a bleak haze more frightful than anything she’d yet encountered. Fear plucked at her heart like the strings to a slow, haunting dirge. Vile frost scratched through Rarity’s coat, draining all hope, syphoning her joy and creating a hollow shell.

Movement caught her eye, plumes of gold and red pushing back the darkness encroaching on her sight. Turning her head just a little, even that a terrible strain, Rarity beheld a creature of fire and blinding light appear within the temple’s sanctum. Waves of roiling heat flooded over Rarity, blackening the walls and shrivelling the vine and lichen.

The light hurt, burned her more than the flames, drove her shrieking into a tighter ball.

No, it wasn’t the light, but Serene, the shade sinking her fangs deeper in an effort to use Rarity’s own strength as power.

What came next was all confusion and noise. Rarity’s world spun, light mixing with voices. Somepony asked to give help. Serene hurled a challenge at the light, her mad rants twisting in on itself in frothing denials. Shrieks filled the darkness and fangs bit deep into Rarity’s soul. There was a bang. A flash. And there, crested by the stars at the heart a brilliant sunburst was a pony more beautiful than any Rarity had ever beheld. Raised on hind hoofs, with glorious flame as her armour and blade, she towered over all others, radiant and untouchable.

Far away in Ponyville, the residents were pulled from their own sleep by a violent bloom of light deep within the Everfree. Several seconds ticked past as they went to their windows wondering what fresh horror the cursed forest had seen fit to conjure. Then a tremendous boom rattled homes and tossed ponies to the floor, undiminished in its violence despite the many miles it had crossed.

Mouths agape, eyes bulging, and skittish hearts at a race, they stared, and stared, and only after many minutes of silence did they hope that whatever had caused the explosion would remain sealed in the choked confines of the Everfree.

Hours passed, Rarity suspended in a plain of golden fire. She was not aware of anything beyond a slow breeze blowing across her face, tempting the flames higher. They did not respond, remaining sedate and low instead, gentle and comforting as a lit mid-winter hearth. Rarity basked in this calming reprieve, and all her troubles melted away into blissful nothingness for a time.

The warmth receded far sooner than she could ever have desired, leaving her cold within a scorched depression where the temple ruins had stood. She lifted her head from the melted stone on which she lay just as Sol crested in the east, banishing the final traces of the aurora from the sky.

Sore all over, but for the first time in what seemed ages, greeted by silence within her thoughts, Rarity pulled herself from the crater. Legs weak, she staggered as if drunk towards the nearby blackened line of trees, not knowing where she was going, only that she had to leave the crater. Little strength had begun to return when she heard voices drifting like smoke from behind her.

Though garbled, the meaning was not as important as the speakers. Rarity didn’t need to understand what was being said to recognise Applejack’s drawl, or the pauses that followed as, presumably, Fluttershy responded. It was the next set of voices that really swept a chill up her back and sent her crashing through the brittle underbrush.

“I see her!” Sweetie shouted, and a glance over her shoulder showed Rarity her sister come bursting through the forest, along with a small group of ponies. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo raced beside their friend, while Applejack, Fluttershy, and a pair of zebras brought up the rear. “Rarity, wait! We want to help.”

Help? For a brief instant Rarity recalled the enveloping warmth. It was an ill-timed memory, as she stumbled out of the forest onto the lip of a long, deep chasm that cleft the forest in half.

On the other side the ruins of the Castle of the Royal Sisters stood in all its decrepit glory. A glance to the left showed the posts for the old, rotten bridge, and the dangling remains of the bridge itself.

“Rarity, hold up,” Applejack shouted, the farmer’s voice affixing Rarity to the spot.

Her hooves trembled, and she could feel Serene beginning to stir once more.

“It’s not safe,” Rarity called back, turning slowly to face her family and friends. “You need to get away from me.”

“Sis, whatever is wrong, we can help you,” Sweetie Belle reached with a pleading hoof, one that broke Rarity’s heart.

She wanted so much to sweep her sister in her hooves and just hold her close. For the waking nightmare to end for good. To be warm and safe, and for Serene to burn once and for all. The thought twisted her lips into a sickly grin, one that brought Sweetie and her friends to a halt, and woke Serene from her slumber.

A gasp strangled in Rarity’s throat, and her face contorted with the effort to hold Serene back. As before she was overwhelmed, though not as quickly, and for a short time Rarity swore that she even managed to push the maniac down a ways. Whatever her advantage was lost, and their positions reversed, with Rarity a prisoner as Serene took hold.

Having watched the invisible battle with growing concern, the group of ponies approached slowly.

“What’s wrong with her?” Apple Bloom whispered loudly to Scootaloo, her friend just shrugging in response.

Serene issued a sharp laugh, flipping her head and taking a step forwards. “Nothing is wrong with me.” She smiled as a viper would on a den of newborn mice, and beckoned them closer. “Come to me, my darling Muses. Come to your mother.”

Before the crusaders could utter more than a confused rumble, Applejack shot out her hoof in front of the trio. Her hat was pushed low over her eyes, the brilliant green cores narrowed not with suspicion, but with anger. “Girls, you need to get back. Now. Miss Paumuut and Miss Laila; could you take the fillies to—”

“No!” Serene stamped a hoof, and the ground beneath her trembled. At her back stones clattered into the chasm, further along a section falling away with a lengthy rumble and clamour. There was magic in her voice, a command that instilled awe as would the presence of a dragon. “You are thieves… Agents of Hera, here to steal my Muses once more. The foolishness of mortals is boundless it seems.”

Applejack took a tentative step closer. “Rarity, I don’t want to fight you, but you ain’t acting like yourself.”

Instead of a response, of laughing and jeering, with taunts flowing freely, Serene tossed her head and called upon magic. The spell was wrong; foul and twisted, like a tangled ball of rose thorns. It was a spell that had a singular purpose, and that was to kill. Rarity could see it in the way the runes began to mesh. Evil for the sake of evil, without pity or remorse, just the simple need to cause suffering.

She tried to break Serene’s control, to dislodge the spell before it could fully form, or in some way warn her friends.

“Rarity, what are you—” AJ began to take a step closer.

A moment before the spell completed, Fluttershy’s eyes widened, and she lunged forward. The spell rang out in a crackling, green bolt. Applejack was hit on the side by Fluttershy. With a howl, Fluttershy was struck on the barrel, and collapsed, unmoving and unseeing, her beautiful eyes empty.

Rarity screamed in the prison of her mind, while Serene sneered. Pulling on all the remains of warmth from the encounter in the temple, Rarity hurled herself against the barrier, and at last it collapsed.

She sagged, and trembled. Over and over she prayed that she were in a nightmare.

“Fluttershy?” Applejack shouted, crawling to her friend.

A friend that did not move.

“No, no, I… No…” Rarity shook her head in disbelief. Already, Serene was tearing down her will, howling and clawing to fully dominate Rarity. If the monster regained control, Rarity knew that she’d never be able to stop her. There was only a single thing within her power to stop Serene. “I’m sorry,” she said, and then she stepped backwards into the waiting maw of the chasm.

Book One: Chapter Seventeen: Sacrifice

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book One: Awakening and Arrivals
Chapter Seventeen: Sacrifice

Magic crackled up the walls of Leviathan’s chamber, curving over the intricate wards etched deep in aurichalcum until converging at the ceiling, right over where Twilight stood fuming.

“Game? Game!” Twilight shouted, her chest heaving with ire and rage. “These are ponies’ lives, and you want to bet on who lives and dies while you taunt that I can help them but at the cost of my stars or my friend? That is sick!”

Her grin spreading, Leviathan’s wings rolled in a long, wave-like shrug. “Twilight, I do not care whether they live or die in the slightest. They are as inconsequential to me as the mosquito is to a dragon.

“So, as I told you before: you are free to go. Race off on wings of thunder and sparkling fire. Visit your wrath on all threats to those you love. Smite them with your celestial magic. Crush them underneath hooves of steel and vengeance. Hurl fire and stars from the heavens as if they were rain. Have your blood sing with the cry of steel and battle and magic to save those you hold dear.

“Or don’t. If this game bores you then we can find something else to play. You could come back in a year or two when some new pieces have wandered onto the board. Are you interested in a war between traditional armies, with all that valour, pillaging, and rape nonsense? Maybe a good, old fashioned plague? Pustules and boils, blood seeping from the eyes, with wagons of the dead carted off to mass graves or funerary pits. Mmm, that takes me back.” A shiver ran up Leviathan’s spine, from her tail to the tips of her wings, along with a giggle as accompaniment. “I see both on our horizons, but which would you prefer? It makes little difference to me.”

Twilight let out a long breath to keep her rising disgust in check. She darted a quick look to Sirius, the Firestar sizzling, mirroring her own anger. A hundred spells lept to mind. Destructive and terrible evocations mingled with potent wards and teleportations. Spells capable of halting localised time fought for dominance against beams capable of carving through hills or even mountains. It would have been so easy to follow her emotions and pull the necessary runes out of the depths of her mind.

More spell-formulae, unknown to her and far more potent than she’d ever seen, came in a flood, forced onto her fully formed and ready by Sirius. An entire tome’s worth of spells hovered in Sirius’ mind, tantalizing and calling to her through the bond she shared with the star. Too many for her to appreciate the subtleties of each, she grabbed at the most powerful seeming and slotted it into her repertoire.

Not that any of the spells would prove more then partially effective within the chamber’s dampening effects. It would have to be enough.

“No! You will return everything right this moment. The stars are my responsibility. Pinkie is a pony, and it’s her choice to leave or stay. Faust—”

Leviathan’s hoof smashed down, echoing about the chamber and causing another minor avalanche. “She will remain here! That was the price she paid for my abstaining from Celestia and Luna’s battles against Discord. Faust is mine; now and until the Quus properly awaken and time is shattered. As for your stars and Pinkie…” Her lips pulled back to show off her fangs. “You are in no position to make demands. This is the seat of my power, linked to my realm beneath Tartarus. Here my word is absolute. Here, I am the only god of consequence.”

“So much for not being the villain then.” Twilight smirked, already queuing up her most potent spells.

Green aether igniting along Leviathan’s horns in tandem. “Oh, please. I’d sooner keep a yapping dog than have your menace of a friend remain in my home a second after your departure. My interest in those three irritating fireflies extended no further than making you believe there were consequences. Pinkie annoys me, but I found it humorous to take the bearer of Laughter. Now, since you’ve made your choice, they are all inconsequential. Come, Twilight, let us do battle if that is your wish.”

A thrill sprang along Twilight’s back, up her neck, and crackled like lightning through her mane. It was a familiar pulse of excitement that had preceded other battles. Nightmare Moon the first. Discord, Trixie, Chrysalis, and others over the years, each accompanied by a similar rush.

Clamping down on the excitement, she shook her head. “I don’t want to do this, but you must be stopped!”

She took a deep breath in anticipation of Leviathan’s response, certain she’d made the right decision.

“Stopped? From what?” Leviathan cocked her head. “Warning you that those you care about are in danger and need your help? Yes, I am such a big, bad menace in need of a good smiting.”

“And what about threatening my family?” Twilight scuffed a hoof.

“I told you, I had nothing to do with your family’s troubles beyond taking advantage of them for my own amusement. Even if you should win by some fluke and banish me back to Tartarus, it will have no meaning. I can return at my choosing. You do not have it in you to kill, nor can I be stopped. Make an enemy of me at the disc’s peril. There are other worlds I can use to partake my enjoyment.”

Snorting, Twilight extended her wings and lowered herself, ready to charge. “And now you threaten to destroy the disc? So much for being innocent. You sound just like Nightmare Moon, upset that ponies wont play with you, and so you’ll just destroy everything they love.”

“I…” Leviathan blinked a few times then cursed. “I suppose that was a rather petulant response. Damnation, I despise it when I do that.” Dismissing her readied spells, Leviathan waved a hoof and snapped her wings shut. “Nevertheless, I gave you a fair and honest deal.”

“You stole from me!” Twilight ground her teeth, aether popping along her horn where it had built too far. “You stole my stars and foalnapped my friend. And this is on top of whatever you’ve done to Faust.”

Rolling her eyes, Leviathan let out a long, dismissive snort. “Faust is here of her own volition. As for the stars, they attacked me, if you recall. As did Pinkie. I’ve every right to protect myself. Honestly, all things considered, I’ve been rather compromising, I think.” She began to pace in a wide circle, framing the Seer’s Windows with her wings as she did so. “The game still stands. You have only a few more minutes to choose. So who will it be? Your friends or your family?”

“I told you, I’m not playing your games!”

“But you are! Don’t you see? You must play the game. There is no other option. Stay or go, go or stay; this is a binary choice. I know you so love those sciency terms. Even standing there so defiant and certain that I am the evil one, you play the game.” Rubbing her cheek up against the mirror onto Sparkledale, Leviathan let out a long purring laugh. “I’m trying to help you, Twilight. Don’t you realise that?

“Take this; your foster mother is going to pay a price to undo another’s mistake. Sacrifice her life for that of Tyr. Celestia and Luna will be complicent in her death, as will you. You have the power to stop it. To save them both. But you refuse to act because I was the one who told you of the danger? Because you don’t trust me?”

Leviathan’s laughter only further set Twilight’s teeth on edge. She couldn’t figure out why Leviathan was antagonizing her so openly. What was the demon after? What was her end game?

Deciding that it didn’t matter, that she’d allowed things to progress too far already, Twilight cast the spell gleaned from Sirius. With a tone like the ringing of a gong, the runes came together, but sloppily, the formations hesitant underneath the dampening effect of the chamber.

Leviathan had more than enough time to counter the fire that drifted from the tip of Twilight’s horn. An intense, spiralling black conflagration around a lavender core, the spell should have torn across the room, rather than its almost lazy flight towards Leviathan. She did not counter in the way Twilight expected, swatting the flames aside with a wing in much the same way as she might shoo away a fly. Undiminished in intensity, the flames impacted the old stove. Wrapping around its ancient cast-iron body, they melted it into a pool that smoldered and snapped with lingering green-violet tendrils of smoke.

Mouth falling open, Leviathan gaped between Twilight and the smoking remains for a long time. “You actually attacked me,” she eventually said. “This is the thanks I get for trying to help? I didn’t have to warn you about any of this. It would have been far easier for me just to let you sail past.”

Her own mouth dry and thoughts reeling as she tried to piece together a way to counter the dampening of her magic, Twilight couldn’t form a response.

Throwing back her head, Leviathan let out a long, ruckus peel of laughter and trotted away from the mirrors. The sound had a manic, twisted edge that curled around Twilight’s ears in viperous tendrils hinting at madness hidden just beneath Leviathan’s veneer of calm. Wings tense, Twilight waited with wards at the ready for Leviathan’s counter.

In a breathy, almost jubilant voice, she said, “This is perfect! Celestia’s prized protege and cousin, the famed hero Twilight Sparkle, going straight for the throat. I haven’t been this surprised and impressed in an epoch. This deserves a reward, I think. Does it? Yes, it does. Very well, I return what I borrowed.”

Flashes lit the room as the seers windows were closed and the cage containing Twilight’s stars deposited on the nearby table. Wasting no time, Twilight crossed to the cage and wrenched it open. Immeasurable relief washed over her the moment the trio latched themselves onto her, their tiny bodies clinging to her neck like foals hugging their mother.

“There, happy now?” Leviathan flopped into a chair, her grin wide and tail flicking every few seconds in her amusement.

Making sure to place the stars securely behind her ears, Twilight glanced around and asked, “What about Pinkie Pie?”

Sighing, Leviathan massaged her temples. “What of her?” She then snapped her head up higher. “Wait, where is the cotton candy menace?”

“Right here,” Pinkie called out as she bounced into the living area.

Behind Pinkie, rubbing sleep from her eyes, moved Faust in the wobbling way of those yanked from a deep, encompassing dream.

As with all good young nobles, the cornerstones of Twilight’s social norms came from the lessons in the Book of Names and the Book of Sol. To see Faust, not as a painted statue or motionless on some bed, but walking as if out of the mists of forgotten history, was a moment as profound as defeating Nightmare Moon, discovering she was an alicorn, or when she’d found her cutie mark. Twilight’s mouth fell open, and she was certain that for a second there was such silence in the room she could hear the crackle of Sol’s flames above the disc.

Faust’s crystal blue eyes—eyes identical to Luna’s—swept over to Twilight, and her mouth twitched into a smile.

Leviathan’s eyes morphed from emerald into burning ruby pitts, while her face darkened into the colour of ripe puce beneath her coat. She trembled and thrust out her wings with such force that the walls of her horde tumbled in miniature avalanches. Rage slammed into Twilight with the force of a tidal wave. Boiling water dripping from her mane and tail, Leviathan slowly advanced, her gaze locked on Pinkie.

Flaring her own wings, Twilight channelled magic to create a buffer for Pinkie and Faust to hide behind.

“What did you do?” Leviathan loomed over Twilight and Pinkie, and her voice echoed with the power of a hurricane within the chamber.

“I figured that Faust would like to meet her niece, so, of course, I had to go wake her up” Pinkie replied with genuine confusion. “I mean, they are family, and family should at least come out and say ‘Hi, thanks for coming to visit. Did you try the cake? It was a lovely cake. We should do this more often and go camping or have picnics or visit a cake museum’. I mean, who wouldn’t want to go visit a museum filled with every type of pastry ever made. It’s the perfect day-trip.”

Pinkie wore her usual smile, while Leviathan stared at her as if seeing a pony for the first time.

Leviathan sputtered, unable to get her words out around the rage building in her throat. At its apex, her restraint failed, and the whole island felt its crumbling through their hooves as she roared and lashed out at the source of her ire.

Twilight’s shield offered no protection from Leviathan’s attack. A green whip of pure aether slashed from between the demon queen’s horns, curling around Twilight’s wing to reach her target. Pinkie screamed, crimson spraying from where the tendral licked her face, and reeled back, hoof flying to the gash. Blood soaked into her fur, turning it a dark, cherry red and spreading at a distressing rate. Six more whips joined the first, giving Twilight no reprieve to check on her friend. All her power channelled into a protective bubble barely held off the enraged queen. Sparks danced across the shield’s surface with each blow. Cracks radiated outwards like angry spiderwebs, then mended just in time for the next barrage.

Kneeling down next to Pinkie, Faust directed a spell towards her. Ruby aether flowed from her horn over Pinkie’s face, drawing a fresh yell that twisted at Twilight’s heart. “Hold still, dear child,” Faust commanded, a hoof used to hold Pinkie down.

Pinkie’s thrashing lessoned, then stopped, and she breathed a long sigh of relief.

Wishing she knew precisely what was happening, Twilight was forced to direct all her attention ahead. Cracks began to form in her shield under the relentless assault, every blow reverberating within her horn and through her hooves.

“I could use a little help here.”

Faust didn’t look up from her work at Pinkie’s side, instead simply saying, “You do not require any more of my assistance.”

“And now you refuse to chose a side?” Leviathan’s chest heaved and the whips were dismissed. “Why Faust? Why am I not good enough for you? I betrayed everything for you, and still you despise me? You give your devotion to those who neither sought nor deserve it when I have bared my heart to you time and time again.”

“Because, you are Envy, and an antithesis to my Harmony.” Faust gently stroked Pinkie Pie’s mane and extended a wing over the unconscious mare. “‘Seventh among the Great Sins is Envy. For she who covets what others possess is as dangerous to herself as she is to others.’”

Stiffening, Leviathan’s eyes shrank into bloodshot pinpricks.

Twilight tensed in anticipation. She could feel the shift in the air, that moment just before a fight so familiar and unsettling.

“I don’t think quoting the Book of Sol is a good idea right now, do you?” Twilight shot over her withers, using the reprieve to buttress her barrier and come up with a new plan.

In this place, she could never match Leviathan’s power. Had she a moment, she would have been a little proud that her barrier lasted this long.

Sensing her need, Ankaa, Phad, Antares, and Sirius rose up and began to orbit her. Magic from the four flowed into Twilight, infusing her with more and more aether. It was as if they were rivers glutted by fresh storms, their banks overflowing as magic rushed into her own reservoirs, filling her to the brim with power.

From Sirius came fire and passion, enough to make her mane transform from a starfield into a dry forest filled with howling flames. The remaining three worked in tandem. Their magic held surety of purpose and resolve. With them her coat went from dark to light, turning a brilliant white that stung to gaze upon.

Still kneeled next to Pinkie, Faust said, “I am glad that at last things will be settled between us. My only regrets are that so many had to be hurt to reach this day, especially my daughters.”

“So, you placated me these last two thousand years? Lied and manipulated? Weaseled and wormed like a lawyer, or snake?” Leviathan laughed loudly, the sound harsh like iron being torn in half, and stamped her hooves in a wild dance. “You would make a very good demon, Faust. This is why I love you so much! Ha-ha! This is perfection, indeed.

“Very well, who am I to disappoint?” Leviathan scuffed a hoof, gouging a deep furrow in the stone. Aether arced in crackling green bolts between her horns, building into a rapid crescendo of deadly energy. “I will not let you go, Faust. All these plans you spin, all the ponies you betray and toss into my path to be devoured, all of it is pointless. I know what you have been plotting with Tyr. What a cruel mare you’ve become. Why, I’d actually be proud if I wasn’t so furious for not thinking of tormenting the filly first. But, now you wish to abandon me, my love? Again! Petulant though it may be, if this is truly our final goodbye then you must die.”

“But, that makes no sense!” Twilight fought to keep pace with the charge emanating from Leviathan. “If you love her then shouldn’t you want what is best for Faust?”

Leviathan smirked and began to advance. “I do love her. I do! That is why I can’t let you have her. She is mine. Mine! Once you are destroyed, every aspect of your existence expunged from creation, she will have no reason to leave. Faust will stay here with me, and we will be happy. Look at the home I have built for us?” Wings cast out wide, Leviathan spun to indicate her mangled and disrupted horde.

“I am afraid that nothing of the sort is going to happen this day.” Faust stepped up to Twilight’s side. Nestled between her wings, Pinkie rested in a magic induced sleep, the remainder of a faint glow over her wounded face. Magic still glowed around Faust’s horn in a corona like the sky at the last moments of sunset. The aether emitted made Twilight’s wings tingle in an almost pleasant manner. “You’ve not been alone in planning for this day, Leviathan.”

Concern flitted through Leviathan’s bloodshot eyes. She took a half-step back, neck craning to take in the entire breadth of the dome.

The aurichalcum runes inscribed into the domed ceiling glowed with a fury to match the battle below. Engorged by the energies cast by Sol and Selene’s unseen movements above the disc, the runes hummed to greater life. Lightning shot from the base of the latticed structure to the pinnacle of the dome, and back down again. With a crackling groan like a grime encrusted door opening, the sigil overhead began to spin.

Picking up speed, the hum turned into a howl that drowned out all other noise. The queen snarled and diverted her attention from Twilight to Faust.

“Of course; the eclipse! This was your plan all along? Ha-ha-ha! This is brilliant. Traps within traps, lies hidden behind sweet truths, and a dagger obfuscated by smiles at all times.” Leviathan shook with dark delight, then fixed the two alicorns with her most withering glare. “When did you learn the spells? When did you begin this plot?”

“The day I looked into the Weave and saw my daughters.” Faust stood her ground, defiance mingling with disgust and rigid fury in her eyes. “I’ve always known the spells. I helped make this chamber, Leviathan. For all the knowledge you fed the Marlantians, they did not have the sheer power to rend the barriers between realms necessary to allow your escape.”

“Neither do you! It took you and Iridia to… oh. Oh! Ha-ha-ha! Into your trap I have pounced headfirst and blind.” Leviathan threw back her head as she boomed with laughter.

Ruby magic gracing her horn, Faust began to advance towards Leviathan. “Twilight, I need your help. Lend me your strength as I have lent mine to you in the past.”

Twilight didn’t hesitate, a simple teleport bringing her beside Faust. At once she poured every ounce of magic she retained into her aunt’s spell. Rainbow magic identical to that of the Elements of Harmony bloomed around Faust in a shimmering flower of irresistible beauty.

A feral curse thundered from Leviathan, the queen covering herself in a protective green dome. “I will return, Faust. Tartarus failed to contain me once, and I will break its bonds again and again. Nothing will keep me from you. Nothing!”

“You fail to comprehend, Leviathan. I am not banishing you, I am containing you. May you spend twice the number of years as you have kept me prisoner trapped in unwavering slumber.”

Trembling from the effort needed to maintain the flow of magic, Twilight wondered if they could succeed.

Leviathan fell to her knees under the strain of fending off Faust and Twilight’s combined power. “This is only a temporary defeat. I will dream, and through my dreams I will call to those loyal to me, those whose hearts are filled with envy. You are blind, Faust, to the true horrors I have abstained from spreading. My blinders are off, and when next I stir the reckoning this world will suffer will be primordial and terrible. Three thousand years is nothing to our kind.” Leviathan then turned to Twilight, her grin growing even more wicked and delighted.

“It is a shame I will not be able to see your face when you learn the price for your victory here. Sleep well if you can, Goddess of the Stars, knowing the sacrifices made.”

The sigil overhead flared with a final, blinding blast of energy that sent shockwaves through the island. Twilight’s eyes rolled into the back of her head, the strain of accessing so much aether finally overcoming her. She blacked out for just a moment, her magic sputtering away, and then rebounding backwards like a tidal wave striking the unyielding walls of a cliffs, flooding back through her connections to the stars. Faust was there to keep her from falling, her touch gentle and comforting.

Twilight’s next memory was of running to escape the chamber, chased by Leviathan’s shrieks and taunts. She stumbled, and then was beyond the chamber and all the disc came back in fullness. A cacophony of prayers and noise swarmed across her mind making her stumble again. Dimly through the haze, Twilight heard the voices of her stars offering comfort and congratulations.

Wet leaves slapped against Trixie’s face in her directionless gallop through the forest. Trixie’s body ached. It ached more than she’d ever known. Though the limbs and leaves were a constant hindrance, the uneven ground threatened to permanently end her flight. Already, she’d taken a number of hard falls in the dark, the emergent welts on her flanks stiffening and making painful her every stride. With dawn nearing, she had to find someplace to hide, or make their stand.

Beside her, Shyara moved with a boundless energy, keeping pace despite having little more than a few minutes rest here and there throughout the night. An intense gleam lit the filly’s eye, her ear twisting about this way and that at noises Trixie could not perceive over her own panting breaths.

Through a gap in the trees Trixie spotted the ruins of the castle overlooking the village and at once changed direction.

Atop a squat hill, the ruins had never been much beyond some stout fortifications and a small keep even at its height. Now, blackened scorch marks marred the stone walls in many places, the southern tower lay broken and scattered, half buried by decades of untended growth, so too, a long section of nearby wall barred none from passage, hindered only by slick, moss covered stone.

“Quick, inside,” Trixie gave Shyara a hard shove towards the break in the wall. “We will make our stand inside where the beast can only come from one direction.”

They rushed across dew covered grass, neither giving voice to the dread lodged in their throats. Up, up towards the castle with hardly a look behind to check for their pursuer. Both knew the doshaa was close. His presence was all around them, drawing out the shadows of the trees so they were like spined fingers reaching to grasp the fleeing pair.

A flock of ravens circled overhead, covering the parapets in a feathery, obsidian carpet. Trixie knew better than the think them some portent. Still, their shrill caws sent electric shivers up her spine.

Breathless, Trixie only slowed to help Shyara over the broken section of wall. She took a moment to glance over her shoulder just as their pursuer strutted from the woods with antlers held high.

For a few seconds, Trixie’s heart plummeted. Mountain was clear as could be, as was the dark magic flowing from his antlers down his neck like a cloak. Trixie was certain that she could not fight him. Not out of any sentimentality, though her spirits were lowered at the prospect of having to fight somepony she actually liked. Rather, the huge bull could crush her without breaking a sweat, demon or no.

No, a straightforward confrontation was a sure death, which suited her just fine.

Swallowing her fear, she gripped the edge of the broken wall and pulled herself up and over. Spring had yet to touch the courtyard. The ground was naught but dry dirt and tufts of spiky weeds that Trixie and Shyara passed quickly on their way to the empty archway where great doors had been. Once more she grabbed Shyara, running, now, straight for the main keep.

A small whisper of a memory, or an idea, assured that old castles always had secret escape routes for the nobles to use in times of trouble. She shoved aside the logic that any such tunnel would have long since collapsed, and she had no idea where to begin looking for it in the first place.

The castle predated the War of the Sun and Moon, which meant the most likely location was one of the rooms between the main hall and the bedchambers. There it would have been accessible, but away from any entry points by invaders.

Hooves skidding on the dust covered stone, Trixie had only started to crane her head around, looking for a way out of the main hall, when Shyara broke her from her thoughts with a trembling voice.

“Trixie…”

Following Shyara’s gaze, Trixie started. Foals. The far side of the room was filled with them. More than two dozen in number, they stared straight ahead with open mouths and milky eyes. Chains bound them to the floor, woven through manacles that seemed far too large for little fillies and colts. From the way the foals didn’t so much as twitch at their entrance, Trixie wondered if the chains were even necessary.

“By Celestia!” Trixie took a step back towards the door, then halted.

Across the floor, filling the air with the iron stink of blood, spread a ritual circle, formed of interlocking lines with a conjuration triangle at the eastern edge. A Tartaran light hummed from the circle, hellish and green and flecked with sickly purple.

A trap! The castle had been a trap the entire time.

“Shyara, find someplace to hide,” Trixie growled the orders as she backed away from the door. “Once Trixie has the doshaa’s attention, you run. You run and you do not stop until you reach Canterlot or the princesses find you. They have many agents across Equestria.”

Shyara began to protest, but after a half-hearted start clamped her mouth shut and darted off to the side where the shadows were thickest and she could hide behind a toppled column. Thankful that for once there’d been no argument, Trixie called on her magic to conjure a solid illusion of Shyara. Not trusting her magic alone after the previous fight against the demon, Trixie picked up a stout stone block that had in years past been part of a balcony overlooking the entrance hall. The block served a second purpose, obfuscating the nature of the magic burning along her horn.

She did not bother to check on the chained foals. Whatever had been done to them she could not undo it without both effort and time. Too many possibilities popped into her head, though the one most likely was that their magic was in some manner syphoned to power the circle. Praying to Celestia that that was the case, as they’d recover in time naturally, Trixie and Shyara awaited the doshaa.

They did not have long before a dusky shadow filled the doorway.

“You do not run nor try to hide?” a distorted mockery of Mountain’s voice asked coldly as he stopped at the threshold. “Curious. What do you plan to do? Your death is inevitable. Some last act of defiance before I crush your spirit along with you body once and for all? How pointless.”

Scalp prickling at the unnatural resonance in his voice, Trixie refused to parley with the demon who had stolen her friend. Aura gripping the stone tighter, she narrowed her eyes and set her shoulders. All Tartarus was about to break loose, and in the depths of her heart, Trixie knew that this was her last adventure. Whether she survived or not, there was no way she’d be able to return to her wandering ways.

The moment the doshaa stepped through the doorway, she unleashed the stone, not at the demon, but at the cracked wall to his side.

Twisting around as the stone impacted the wall, Trixie grabbed the illusion Shyara and leapt away. Behind her the old wall crumbled. Granite blocks each the size of a pony smashed down on Mountain in a thunderous din that shook Trixie to her core. Thick plumes of dust rolled over her in a choking cloud, stinging her eyes until muddy tears rolled over her cheeks.

Shielding the illusion, Trixie looked back at the pile of rubble, and the sun held in the open arms of the new hole in the keep’s walls.

Nothing moved. Trixie did not allow herself to feel remorse for Mountain, crushed beneath the stones, nor relief. The wall couldn’t have been enough to slay a demon. In the corner of her eye she noted Shyra skulk a little closer to a side exit.

Mountain cast off the rubble and stone. Steel flashed in his eye, a consuming rage for life, love, and the light perpetuated by his demonic puppeteer. He threw himself at Trixie, and she saw not her friend but a frothing beast.

A hard shove sent her illusion to the side. Her quickest spell rang out, a simple beam of piercing energy, and struck him on the antlers, where it shattered uselessly. She ducked down quickly beneath the sweep of his bladed antlers. Trixie wished she knew more defensive spells, rather than the plethora of illusions and parlour tricks used for her stage shows.

This was not a fight of equals. The odds had never been in her favor, but the sheer heights to which Mountain stood over her even without the doshaa struck home how hopeless her position. He was bred and trained for combat, tested against the ferocious beasts that roamed the far northern forests. A mere illusionist like her could do little more than avoid being crushed under his hooves.

With such hopelessness, Trixie reverted to her earlier mindset and snatched Shyara’s illusion up. The illusion did little more than offer a surprised squeak. Willing herself to move faster, Trixie dashed for the far side of the hall where a door stood open.

She made it only a few strides before a wave of force knocked her hooves out from beneath her. The illusionary Shyara bounced out of her grasp and came to a stop on her back at Mountain’s hooves.

Rolling back onto her hooves, Trixie summoned all her strength to fight just long enough for Shyara to escape. Behind Mountain, Shyara saw her opportunity. Keeping herself low, she darted towards the door. Where it lead mattered little. All Trixie could do was offer a small prayer that it would lead to the escape tunnel, or some other means of escape.

Before Shyara could reach the door, it slammed shut, and a heavy bolt latched, bending so as to never open again.

“It was a nice ploy, but did you think I could not tell an aetherial construct from a true alicorn?” Mountain rumbled like a volcano just waking from an ancient slumber. He was implacable. Unstoppable. A force of unyielding nature.

Powerful magic gripped Trixie by the neck and yanked her towards the giant with a strangled oath. Hooves kicking useless in the air, she scraped and dug at her throat in a futile bid to break his grasp by some means. Her magic sputtered along with her breath, the illusion cracking, and then shattering before vanishing entirely.

“Let her go!” Shyara yelled, running half-way across the room before coming to a stop. “Let her go, or—”

“Threaten all you wish, we both know there is nothing you can do to challenge me. An alicorn filly, all alone on a strange world, bereft of her guardians, easy prey for even fool mortals. As Sombra the Betrayer stole Namyra’s immortality for himself, I will have your power Shyara. I will become a duke among Leviathan’s court. One far more fit than the likes of Tirak, Moloch, Witiko, Amon, or even Hetahtin to receive the queen’s attentions.”

Ire flashing across her face and cheeks puffing out, Shyara shouted, “Actually, I was going to do this; Celestia, hear me, I require—”

The remainder of Shyara’s prayer ended in a heavy thud as a blow cracked across her muzzle, and her head struck a nearby column.

Hacking and coughing, Trixie fought harder to free herself. Only one method existed, and she shut her eyes in preparation of what she were about to do. Injecting her own aura into that which held her she at last broke the grip about her throat. At once her magic rebounded, cracking with in her horn and sending her thoughts reeling, uncertain in direction as a drunk in the middle of a long night.

Mountain hoisted Shyara back up, and pulled her towards the now fiercely glowing circle. He paused, however, as a new shadow darkened the rubble where the keep’s entrance once stood.

“Demon! We were not finished.” River took deep breaths, her robes sticking to her where she’d worked herself into a thick lather. Beside her hovered her sword in a deathly tight aura that, were the sword not magic itself, would have surely crushed the hilt and crossguard.

Behind River, Selene and Sol still shared the sky the former beginning to cross in front of the later. Had she time, Trixie would have marvelled at the celestial display.

“I dealt with you once already, priestess,” Mountain dismissed River, not even turning to look at her and instead continue to drag Shyara towards the casting circle. “Run back to your halla, those that yet live. I am busy.”

Trixie and River’s eyes met, and both saw the others thoughts written plain. From where she lay, Trixie aimed her horn and shot a bolt of magic at the casting circle as River charged.

In a spray of brilliant sparks, the circle was sundered and rendered inert, all its magic sent outward in a blinding rush.

Eyes bulging Mountain spun towards Trixie, his rage such that he forgot River entirely. He trumpeted loudly, hooves kicking the air and then crashing down on Trixie with all his weight. She screamed. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, bones snapping, and her breaths became thick and wet.

Then it was Mountain’s turn to howl as Llallawynn drove hilt deep into his side. Tears ran freely down River’s face, the priestess yanking the sword free with a vicious twist. Sagging against a pile of debris, Mountain did not glare at River, but thanked her silently with his eyes, their normal blue lustre returned.

From Mountain’s shadow the demon sprang, rising over the ponies on spindly, torn wings. It was impossible to discern the doshaa’s true form, except that it was vaguely ponylike, but twisted and sickly, formed of nightmares and madness. Fog and shadow both emanated and flowed into the demon, hiding all but his glowing green eyes and the far-too long curve of its mouth.

With a wing he struck River, snapping the priestess’ head sharply backwards and flinging her among the foals.

Floating to Shyara, the doshaa grabbed her by her mane with a long, taloned thumb on her wing. Spitting scornfully at the foals and still priestess, he said, “No matter. You merely condemn another village’s foals to death.” The doshaa grinned wide, a thin slice of yellow in the black. “Storms gather, and I will be prepared to meet them head on at the side of my queen and future bride.”

Through the hole in the wall and above the demon’s head, Trixie could only watch as the eclipse reached its peak. Whether an omen or not, Trixie did not care. She grinned with blood stained teeth as the heavens turned to night though the sun remained high, marvelling in the spectacle of the goddesses at work, and resolved to give her last.

Coughing, Trixie prayed as she hadn’t done since she was little. “It’s been years, and I’m not certain if you listen or not, but if you are, I could use your help. Celestia, Luna, Faust, heh, or even Twilight; please, lend me a little strength to save her. Help me protect her.”

At once power flowed into Trixie, filling up from somewhere deep within. Her veins both burned and chilled with the aether flowing into her. She’d never realised just how much power she possessed for such magic to answer her call. All she knew was that her prayer had been heard. A spell unlike any she’d encountered appeared within the surging magic, informing her how best to direct its flow.

She did not stumble over from where the spell had emerged, so intent was she on saving Shyara.

The doshaa turned its glare on her, Shyara dangling limp within his grasp, sensing the magic pulsing from her. His eyes widened at the cone of twisting aether around Trixie’s horn.

Before he could act further, there came a furious bellow as Mountain rose up with bloody spittle frothing from the corner of his mouth. He drove his antlers into the doshaa’s side, and though they pierced fully, they could not deal any lasting harm. With the sweep of a wing, the doshaa shattered Mountain’s antlers and hurled him against the far wall.

Mountain’s attack served its purpose, giving Trixie time to finish her spell.

A purple, spiralling spear parted the air and pierced the doshaa, splitting him from neck to navel and continued on, shattering the walls behind the demon and flew until striking Mount Hackleberry four hundred miles away. There it left a deep, pitted crater of glowing molten stone.

Shyara fell from the demon’s grasp, while the demon itself burst into smoke and oil as he struck the ground, a shadow burnt into the stone where he landed.

Trixie had only a moment to exult in her victory before the surge of magic receded, and with it, all her injuries and exhaustion redoubled their effects. Eyes rolling back into her head, Trixie collapsed into the waiting darkness.

“Trixie!” Shyara scrambled across the floor to Trixie’s side, grabbing her tight. “You fool, why’d you do that? Don’t you leave me too. You’re a champion. You’re the Great and Powerful Trixie, slayer of the doshaa. You can’t die. Not now. Not when you really are a hero.”

Shyara held Trixie’s body for some time, face buried into her guardian’s blood encrusted neck.

Great Ioka ceased her endless swim through the void; the ever churning winds above the disk slowed to a crawl and the ocean waves paused, poised to break upon the shores; a sepulcher silence gripped even the birds and bugs as all attention turned to the isolated clearing deep in the Everfree Forest. Sol vanished behind thick clouds, and the forest plunged into shadow.

Fluttershy stared towards the grey heavens, lustrous blue eyes faded and empty. Head, limp and lifeless, rested upright only by the support of Applejack’s hooves. The weight, so light as to be a cloud, paralyzed her, held her rooted in place as Rarity vanished into the hungry void.

Sweetie Belle shrieked, a slow note foundering in a lazy warble. She dashed towards the chasm, legs outstretched in languid bounds, mane and tail floating just beyond reach. A shadow passed over Applejack, stripes of black and white drifting in chase. Leila landed, falling into a crouch, her legs trembling before springing into a sluggish gallop. Teeth clamped onto a fluffy tail so, with a fluid yank, the filly was brought to a halt, then made to tumble away from the chasm’s edge.

Fluttershy was pulled into a tighter embrace. Applejack became aware that she was taking deep, ragged breaths as if she’d just raced from one side of the farm to the other and back again. Somepony was trying to talk to her, the voice distorted and warbling at first but gradually morphing into Apple Bloom’s familiar twang. Turning Applejack barely registered her sister and Scootaloo standing uncertain next to her.

Tears ran down the fillies faces, and it was that sight more than anything else that finally catalyzed Applejack.

Carefully, she laid Fluttershy’s head down in the grass and gently closed her friend’s eyes, before saying, “Girls, stay put.”

Pulled three ways from center, her first priority was their safety, and Sweetie was the most in need. The small filly still struggled against Leila’s restraining hoof, drawing a feral and frustrated growl from the zebra.

“Sweetie, calm down. Calm down,” Applejack said as she approached, her own voice strange, empty and devoid of emotion. Pulling the tear stained and wailing filly free from Leila’s hoof, she no less trapped her in an embrace, soft, calming sounds echoing from the back of her throat.

“Sh-She’s…. I… We have to get to Rarity.” Sweetie hiccuped and tried to squirm out of Applejack’s grip, but couldn’t overcome the strength the farmer possessed. “She’s alive. I know it. We have to save her.”

“Sweetie, she—”

“No!” Sweetie struggled harder, a small hoof flying up to strike Applejack on the jaw. The blow was entirely without effect. “She can’t be gone. Rarity wouldn’t leave me.”

Applejack said nothing, for what could she say?

The gorge was a hundred metres deep, jagged edges like grasping talons sprouted from the walls the whole way down, ending only in shark’s maw of broken stone shards cloaked in smoke and shadow. Nothing lived in that desolate chasm where Sol’s light never touched, not even weeds. It was a dead place, and had been since the War of the Sun and Moon a thousand years prior when Celestia had carved the disc open in a desperate bid to save it.

Sweetie didn’t need to know that Rarity was gone, not yet. At the same time, Applejack was loathe to offer sweet-rotted hope.

So, she continued to just hold Sweetie, saying nothing in words, as Big Mac had for her so long ago.

His legs had been so strong even then, and through him she’d felt safe from an uncaring disc of darkness and danger. How long had they sat there in the old orchard that distant fall day? Applejack no longer recalled. Long enough for her tears to be spent and her anger flag until she was drained of energy.

Sweetie pressed her face deep into Applejack’s chest, her small body convulsing with silent sobs. They were joined by Apple Bloom and Scootaloo, the two throwing themselves around Sweetie. Together the friends drew comfort from each other and Applejack.

The crunch of gravel underhoof reminded her that they were not alone in that field.

“Lady Apple, we must leave this place. The forest grows aware of our presence, and she is angry.” Paumuut and Leila both scanned the edge where the glade ended and the forest resumed, worried grimaces at the corner of their mouths.

Applejack didn’t share their concerns. For all the Everfree’s dangers, it was incapable of feeling, and certainly not aware. Monsters may stalk her tangled floor and wild magic permeate her trees giving them twisted, disfigured aspects, but that was the extent of the Everfree’s powers.

And yet, an unease prickled along the back of Applejack’s neck unconnected to the loss of her friends. The air was far too still and the silence not an illusion of grief. No insects chirped; no wind ruffled the tops of the trees; nothing, save the six of them appeared more animate than a painting. She could feel eyes watching them from the shadows. Hungry eyes connected to salivating maws filled with curved fangs.

A shake of the head banished the grim thoughts, though not entirely.

Slowly getting to her hooves, Applejack cast a last glance around the glade before she started towards Fluttershy. “We’ll take the girls and Fluttershy to Zecora. She don’t live too far from here, I think.”

“What about Rarity!?” Sweetie began to wail, renewed tears filling her eyes. “We can’t leave her.”

“I won’t sugarcube, but she’d want me to make sure you were safe before looking for her…” Applejack almost added ‘body’, but caught herself in time. Or her throat closed of its own accord, unwilling to say the words for fear of them irreversibly becoming true.

Bending down to slide Fluttershy onto her back, Applejack wondered where that little acorn of denial had found root. She knew better than to give it any attention, and yet there it was, growing at the fringe of her heart. Rarity was dead. She had to be after such a fall. And yet…

Applejack stared hard at the chasm and almost put Fluttershy back down. One friend was gone, but the other… was equally gone.

Closing her eyes, Applejack uprooted that acorn and tossed it away. The truth was the truth, and she’d lost two friends.

“Girls, let’s…” Applejack’s voice faded away as a bitter wind hissed across the Everfree and parted the clouds. Her mouth fell open, and for a second time her mind rebelled against what it was seeing.

Paumuut and Leila turned towards her and then followed her gaze up to the sky where Selene began to eclipse her sister. The wind picked up, the hiss growing into a feral howl that tore at the treetops and sent branches flying and threatened to take Applejack’s hat with them. Bracing her hat with a hoof, Applejack shouted with far more urgency for the Crusaders to come.

“What’s going on?” Scootaloo yelled, her small wings abuzz with anxiety.

The howling of the wind grew and grew until it was not the wind but the trees that were crying out. Applejack felt the forest’s pain echo up her hooves and lurch into her gut, doubling her over with phantom agony to mirror that which ripped through the Everfree.

Out of the chasm burst a wave of spectral force, tendrils of gold-black energy whipping up into the air like the arms of ghostly squids.

The crusader’s screamed and were sent tumbling away through the grass. Applejack reacted without thinking, dropping Fluttershy and leaping to grab the trio. Through the roaring wind and howls, a sharper wail emanated from the depths of the disc and pierced Applejack to her marrow. She trembled and tried to put herself between the fillies and whatever demon was clawing its way from the chasm’s depths.

A hoof, white and polished, cracked and bloody, gripped the ledge and stole a sharp gasp from Applejack.

There was no moment of relief on seeing Rarity emerge from that pit. Her movements were wrong, unnatural and perverse, sharp, halting motions performed in ways a body should not have bent. Bloody wings dripped from Rarity’s back, feathers more akin to spines thrusting from the taught pallid flesh. Ichor and worse covered the right side of her face, an ember burning where the eye had been while the other stared, murky and empty, at the ground. Bones jutted from her side where it had been crushed flat, every slight motion making them grind and squelch.

On the precipice of retching at the sight, Applejack barked, “Girls, close your eyes.”

They might have protested, but never had Applejack given them so forceful an order. Trembling and more frightened than they’d ever been, they clamped their eyes tight and pressed hard against her.

“Thief. Murderer. Betrayer!” the abomination rattled through broken teeth and loose jaw in a voice like a wind drifting through gravestones. “Give me my foals. Return to me my Muses.”

“You do not belong here, revenant!” Paumuut shouted to be heard over the cacophony.

The zebras said nothing more, acting in concert. Liela charged at Serene while Paumuut clapped her hooves together and began to chant. Kicking off an overturned stone, Leila transformed, her striped fur giving way to a swirling nexus of embers and smoke in the shape of a large lion. A roar ripping from her mouth, Leila impacted against Serene, and was cast away as if she’d been a mewling kitten.

In the blink of an eye Serene was atop Paumuut. Applejack couldn’t even follow the abominations movements they’d been so fast. It was more like she’d teleported, but without the flash of magic, than physically crossed the intervening space.

Paumuut yelled for her partner, and then screamed as her legs were wrenched apart. The snapping of bones grated against Applejack’s ears and the screams were quickly silenced.

Abandoning Paumuut, Serene lurched towards Applejack and the crusaders. All around the revenant, the ground trembled and tore open to reveal shambling dead, leathery, hairless skin taut over dried and rotted bones. Rust eaten ancient armour clung to these wretched things, emblems of Sol and Selene just barely visible on a few peytrals or tattered heraldry.

The dead encircled the ponies, pressing together to form a hungry wall.

Warmth swelled up through Applejack, rising from the same place as their earlier pain, and flowed out down into her hooves. The dead shambled to a halt, the hungry green glow filling the empty sockets of their eyes shrinking away. Even Serene stopped, her body trembling and wings shaking as she strained against an invisible harness connecting her to an immovable stump.

Behind Serene, Fluttershy twitched, and with growing dread Applejack watched as her other friend rose to her hooves. Wisps of silvery-pink magic coiled around Fluttershy’s wings, legs, and mane. Unlike the other risen, she didn’t stutter in her movements, each step carrying an almost unnatural grace.

Applejack could only stare as Fluttershy shook her head, small petals falling from mane and tail, and turned towards Serene.

The revenant ceased her struggles, and instead spun to regard Fluttershy.

“Sister,” she hissed.

“S-Serene?” Fluttershy blinked, eyes darting between Applejack clutching the crusaders, the fillies hooves pressed over their ears and faces scrunched tight, and the dead clogging the field. She took a step backwards, retreating behind her mane and in a whisper asked, “What have you become?”

“What the Fates decreed!” Serene broke down into a cackling fit of laughter, further dislodging her broken jaw, then hurled herself at Fluttershy.

Wreathed in silver light like a beacon on a stormy coast, she met Serene’s charge and forced her back with a burst of untainted aether. Issuing a challenge, she unleashed The Stare. Fluttershy’s voice came in a garbled flow of indiscernible syllables, but the ancient power of her voice was undiminished. Her word carried such power that it shook the ground. Sparks of magic shot from the tips of Fluttershy’s wings, and she seemed to grow taller, filling the entire clearing with her presence.

The revenant, a creature of pure, undiluted malice and hatred for all things living, backed away. It twisted and writhed, hellish screams ripping from its throat. Out swept a skeletal wing, ripples of foul magic extending like talons to tear apart anything in their path. The lesser dead were shattered as if they were made of brittle glass and Applejack tensed in anticipation, only for the magic to sweep around her and the fillies, deflected by the same barrier holding the dead at bay. Fluttershy didn’t blink or shift a muscle, The Stare cutting through the revenant’s attack undiminished. In desperation, it flung itself at Fluttershy, only to be driven further towards the chasm.

The lesser dead things filling the field were no less affected. They howled and shook, then retreated back into their earthen tombs, the ground closing up, leaving only small patches of upturned soil to mark their passing. .

Fluttershy’s voice, cast in the pitches and trills of song, began to overcome the howling winds. Of the words, nothing could be discerned beyond the trembling, sorrowful notes, a dirge dredged from the depths of mourning. Whatever the lyrics, the song amplified The Stare’s power, driving the revenant back until it writhed at the chasm’s edge.

Again, in one last, desperate act, it flung itself at Fluttershy, screeching its defiance and malice.

Before she reached Fluttershy it was too late. The revenant slumped forward, head coming to rest against Fluttershy’s shoulders, and she grew limp and dead once more.

‘’Fluttershy?” Applejack managed after gaping in blank incomprehension. “How? You… you were dead, ain’t two ways about.”

“I… I was…” Fluttershy staggered, and fell hard to her knees, Rarity’s twisted corpse sloughing off her shoulder, hitting the ground as nothing more than a limp bag of flesh and bone. “But she saved me. We were at Lethe’s banks, and one of us had to stay behind… I am so, so sorry.” A hysterical sob wracked Fluttershy. She gasped and clutched hoof and wing tight to her body as more magic began to leak from her like water from a sieve.

Releasing her grip on the crusaders, the trio at last looking up and cracking open wary eyes, Applejack took a few steps towards Fluttershy.

“Stay away!” Fluttershy attempted to hop into the air, but her position was all wrong and her wings tangled together so she instead flopped onto her back. “I’m dangerous, Applejack. I… I don’t know what…”

“Fluttershy, it’s okay. I understand, I truly do. That weren’t Rarity. Couldn’t have been her. You did what… what you had to.” Applejack had to fight hard to keep her voice from cracking and the tears out of her eyes.

Holding out a hoof, Fluttershy again shouted for Applejack to stay back.

As with Twilight months before, a dome of magic burst from Fluttershy, encapsulating her whilst driving Applejack back to the crusaders. Fractures rent the ground, splintering out from the dome’s edge. Wind buffeted Applejack from every direction, filling her mouth and eyes with dirt and clawing at her tail and mane. Lightning crackled along the dome, spitting towards the sky in vivid, iridescent bolts.

Terrified and more confused than ever, the crusaders huddled beneath Applejack.

A pulse of magic shoved Applejack hard on the collar bone. Her hooves scraped across the bare ground as it pushed her and the crusaders away. Determination tightening her jaw, Applejack used herself as a break to keep the fillies sheltered from the tidal surge of energy emanating from Fluttershy.

Petals began to join the dust in splashes of red, pink, white, and blue. Their numbers grew filling the entire field in a riot of colour as thick as any fog. Staccato flashes, blinding even through the sea of petals, stung Applejack’s eyes and brought whimpers from the precious trio held tight to her barrel.

All at once, the winds died, the flashes ended, and the pressure vanished making Applejack stumble. Slowly at first, then in a rush, she opened her eyes in shock.

The field was no more. New trees, not with less than ten years growth, swayed all around them, leaf covered branches blotting out the sky and shading them from the final moment’s of the celestial phenomenon overhead. Flowers and verdant grass sprouted between thick roots, swaying ever so slightly in a sweet breeze that wafted over them carrying the unmistakable scent of spring. At the heart of this new life was Fluttershy, cradling Rarity’s broken form in her hooves.

“Are you okay?” Applejack released the fillies, and waited for them to check themselves over and nod before turning towards Fluttershy and asking the same question. Fluttershy did not respond, or even seem to move. Taking care incase any more strange magic decided to wreak havoc on the day, Applejack and the crusaders approached Fluttershy. “Please, say something.”

Fluttershy looked up, her mane parted just a little by a slender horn. She didn’t smile, and crystalline tears rimmed her eyes. “I’m okay, Applejack. Just… sad.”

“Fluttershy, is that you?” Apple Bloom and Scootaloo gaped, while Sweetie Belle just stared, her eyes locked onto the body of her sister.

It took a long second before Fluttershy gave a slight nod, her hooves gipping Rarity tighter and wing extended to hide the gruesome sights. Applejack cringed knowing what was beneath that soft yellow feathers. It also reminded her that there were others who’d been hurt.

Leaving the crusaders with Fluttershy, she found Paumuut leaning against one of the new trees. Pained breaths sucked in through her teeth, the zebra rolled her eyes towards Applejack as she approached. “It’s as Her Majesty foresaw.”

“You going to be alright?” The question was cursory. Applejack could see that Paumuut would be in the hospital for weeks and the odds of her being lame were teetered on the edge of absolute certainty.

Paumuut tried to wave off Applejack’s concern, brought only brought a fresh hiss through her teeth. “I will mend, as will Leila. We’ve suffered worse in service of our empress.”

“Where is she?” There were no signs of Leila, and Applejack soon learned that there was no point in searching for the second zebras.

Lurching forward with Applejack’s help, Paumuut slid up onto on offered back. “Leila is fine. She is an ifrit and has returned to her home of fire, ash, and smoke. When I am better I will summon her back to me.”

Applejack tilted her head wondering if she was being made game of, though who’d joke about losing a friend? She picked up no sign of deception. Letting it go for the moment, she shrugged and went to collect the others. It was a long trek back to Ponyville and they’d be moving slow.

Spells crackled like cannons, tiny suns shearing the morning gloom with vivid violet flashes, slamming into the golems charging the sailors’ hastily formed lines. Rainbow Dash, perched high above the battle, poised as if at the startline of a race, eyes flickering across the plaza, sorted through the chaos, searching for her opening. The weaknesses in the sailors lines eluded all but an instinctive grasp of the situation.

A strong flick of her wings hurled her off her cloud. Wind whistled through her mane and stung her cheeks, her heartbeating like a snare drum in her ears. She reached the summit of her ascent, and the world seemed to slow. Twisting more like a cat than a pony, body arched into a backwards curve, she was weightless, then falling back toward Ioka, and the sounds of battle. Behind her magic crackled along her tight, taught wings leaving a rainbow trail that grew longer as her speed bypassed the limits of a mere fall. Pressure built against the tips of her outstretched forehooves, resisting her, challenging her to go just a little faster, to push just a little harder. And she could have, had she wanted. Instead, her wings cocked a fraction, sending her into a corkscrew, flashes of static sparking off the ridges of her feathers and working down her legs.

She grinned, triumph exploding from her lungs in a wordless warcray.

The largest golem on the line had just enough time to lift its head. Rainbow struck, her hooves barely feeling the contact as the stone shattered. She didn’t slow to admire her work, not yet. Already, she’d veered to the left, laughing and howling as she lined up her second target without wasting the smallest fraction of momentum. Once more, the sound of her cries reached her foe mere moments before her hooves, leaving far too little time to react. Three more golems fell before her loss of momentum forced her to pull back and regroup, resettling on her self-made perch.

“Applejack is going to kick herself for missing out on this,” she laughed through excited gulps of air, her wings stretching and pumping, ready for another go.

Only a couple moments were spared to survey how the battlefield had changed. In the few minutes of her attack, the right flank had become hard pressed, only to be bolstered by the arrival of Fleur and her magic spear. She stood there still, in the midst of fire hardened clay and the smoldering remains of the golems she’d felled, allowing Timely and his apprentice to tend to the wounded while the other sailors rallied.

As with the previous night, Polished and his marines held the center. Rainbow snorted and rolled her shoulders as she watched the captain of the marines. He cut a handsome figure, alternating between commanding his soldiers and casting powerful spells.

Far in the distance, the Bellerophon could be seen peppering another group of golems with cannon fire from her starboard broadside. Between the ship and the secondary battery, set up on a hill overlooking the beach, nothing came close to the few seamares guarding the eventual retreat of the expedition at the palace.

The approach of a shadow put an end to her observations. Darting back, she narrowly avoided a large stone hurled by one of the biggest golems she’d yet seen. Bouncing twice, the stone landed amongst the wounded ponies with a rattling crunch.

Temper flaring, Rainbow shot towards the source of the attack. As she raced across the ruins, something else caught her eye.

Atop the remains of a tower stood a great, three legged wolf. Within his owlish face glowed eyes of such piercing cruelty that she missed a beat of her wings. A serpentine tail lashed behind the creature, each time a new crack added to the stone on which he rested.

“Told Fleur there would be a boss monster around,” Rainbow growled, slowing marginally so she could inspect the newcomer at greater length.

He stared at Fleur, beak pulled back in amusement to show jagged, black teeth. Carving the thick white marble on which he stood as if it were damp loam with his remaining forepaw, the other limb a malformed thing where it had been hacked in two at the knee, excitement rolled off the him in waves.

At the back of her mind, a name tried to be applied to the observer, but failed to find purchase. She was certain she’d heard or read about such a creature before. Not in the Daring Do books. If he was in them Rainbow would have recalled at once.

Unable to spare any more time on the creature, Rainbow dashed down to the stone hurling golems.

She landed, crouching in their midst, a lioness pouncing among a herd of gazelles, upper lips pulled back in a fierce snarl, magic sheathed wings at the ready. The golems barely had time to react to the pony before she attacked. Aiming low, Rainbow took out their legs, toppling the golems into each other until only one remained standing. Without slowing, she struck it with a flurry of blows to the chest and neck.

Unlike the others, this golem did not fall, runes glowing across the surface in long spirals from where her blows landed against the construct’s flanks. There binding wards flared bright then dulled.

“Guess there are some of you worth a few extra kicks after-all.” Rainbow grinned, bouncing back a few lengths and drawing on more of her magic.

The sound of a double-shotted cannon called her attention to the south where a series of flares rose up in the call to retreat. Biting her tongue at the futile protests that came unbidden to mind, Rainbow bounded up into the air and away from the protected golem.

On her way back to the camp, she took note that the wolf-like creature had vanished from his perch. A small pang of worry pinched the corner of her heart. To make certain that the creature was not preparing some ambush, she circled the camp twice in a wide circuit. Seeing that he was well and truly gone, or just so well hidden that mere sight could not detect his passage, Rainbow landed next to Polished Armour.

“Take only those not beyond your power to snatch from death’s clutches, doctor,” Polished ordered between directioning sailor and marine alike to close ranks. “We have only one shot at breaking out of here and cannot be slowed down by the invalids if any of us are to survive.”

Timely bristled and made to protest vehemently, but checked his rebuttal and instead extended his magic to the nearby wounded.

Looking around the camp, Dash saw far too few mares still standing.“What’s going on? We’re not leaving Twilight, are we?” She demanded, already knowing the answer.

Leaning heavily against her spear, weariness weighing her eyes down, Fleur nodded solemnly. “Oui, mon amie. We must retreat while we still remain able. The good captain and Athena are in agreement.”

A second look around showed Rainbow that the pair were correct. While there were certainly more golems destroyed than ponies lost, the number of casualties was shocking. At best, it seemed only half the original expedition remained standing. As if to further their point, the island trembled.

Torn in her duty to Twilight and to the crew of the Bellerophon, Rainbow hesitated to protest further. She could not imagine leaving Twilight behind, but at the same time she recognised that staying was pointless. There was nothing they could do exposed in the palace square.

“Right, I’ll take point,” Rainbow growled, taking a last, lingering look up at the palace doors in a vain hope that they would open and Twilight and Pinkie would emerge. No such thing happened, and Rainbow took off to lead the retreat.

Unlike the grueling slog to reach the palace, the retreat was hurried and frantic. Beneath the black cloud of ash, they moved with singular purpose, knowing that such a short distance away lay relative safety. At every turn, they were presented with more golems in their path

In this retreat, the differences between Rainbow and even the marines became apparent. Her energy was unwavering, her reserves seemingly endless, and strength unflagging. Zig-zagging along the line of retreat, she kept the ponies ever moving forward. While the sailors and marines began to stumble from exhaustion, Rainbow continued to brim with energy.

“Come on, we’re almost there!” She called down, hoof thrust towards the ponies defending the beach.

The ponies ahead cheered wildly as the first of the expedition appeared from between the ruined buildings. A few of the smaller guns, the eight pounders and swivel guns, had been set up behind an earthen rampart. These guns kept the beach clear of the golems, dozens of the constructs littering the grimy sand.

Rainbow felt more then saw the coming of the eclipse. All at once, flight became difficult, the air heavy as if filled with a sudden miasma. The day, already sullen and grim with the ash cloud spewed by the volcano, fell into a darkness as great as a the depths of the deepest cave.

At the same moment, a cry rose up from the back ranks of the column. Doing her best to spin around, the movement lopsided and faltering in the altered aether permeating the air, Rainbow saw the wolf like creature from before had returned.

He emerged from one of the buildings, tearing through its thick walls to pounce on Fleur and bear the ambassador into the opposite structure. Fleur attempted to drive Pallas into his side, but the spear was swatted aside as if it were an insect. Claws pressing her into unyielding marble, the creature opened his beak wide and took a deep breath.

Fleur thrashed and screamed with all her might, as light blue aether was torn from her and consumed by her attacker.

Rage blossomed in Rainbow’s heart, and even with the air so thick, she tore across the short divide. At the last instant she was forced to divert, lest she be struck down by a crushing swat of his lithe, powerful tail.

Chipped stones and fish bones clattered around Rainbow’s hooves as she skidded to a stop, body crouched low as she prepared to lunge again.

Rushing breathless towards Rainbow and Fleur, Polished fired off a quick trio of spells. Each burst into little motes of useless aether against the fiend’s side. Clacking his beak shut, he lifted his head and turned towards the pair.

“You mortals need to learn your place,” he screeched, staring balefire at Rainbow and Polished Armour. “To challenge me? Amon? I struck Celestia from the sky; you are less than insects. Perhaps I shall cover you in chocolate before I peel the meat from your bones. That sounds rather delicious, actually.”

Much like the his appearance, the name tickled something within Rainbow’s memories, but failed to bring up anything of greater use. The name had more meaning to Polished, who sucked in a sharp breath, his face paling beneath his fur.

“Release Fleur, or I’ll—”

Rainbow never finished her threat. Amon narrowed his small, dark eyes and struck with his tail with far more force than before. There was an instant of realization of his intent. Her wings began to flap, tips of her feathers aglow with the sudden rush of desperate magic to get her aloft. She’d barely started to move when Polished hit her in the side, having noticed Amon’s intent first. Polished shoved her, hard, with no delicacy.

Amon’s tail hit the ground with a blow that left the ground shaking and sent up a great cloud of dirt and ash.

Pulling herself up, ears ringing with the impact, she saw through the cloud of ash Polished laying in a new indent left by the blow. His legs twitched, and he coughed up blood along with a ragged gasp of breath.

“Polished!” She yelled, leaping over to his side and cradling his head. “Come on, you’re too self-centered and stubborn to go out like this.”

He didn’t respond beyond a hacking cough, the slightest of smiles, and a long wheeze. Polished’s eyes grew glassy as the last vestige of life vanished.

Gripped by a formless, cold fury, Rainbow laid his head back down. Calling on those endless supplies of magic, she flew away from the writhing form of Fleur. Snatching up Pallas, she altered her course, rising above the island until her wingtips brushed the bottom of the ash cloud. Amon paid her no attention, his every fibre focused on Fleur.

Tucking her wings tight to her barrel, Rainbow dove faster than she’d ever gone before. Pallas extended in front, effortlessly slicing a path through the miasma. The rainboom shattered the darkness the same instant Amon looked up from his prey. His eye grey impossibly wide. Pallas was driven into his side. All the energy of the rainboom entering Rainbow flowed from her into into Amon with a devastating roar through Pallas.

Amon was flung towards the rumbling volcano in a howling scream of agony and unequaled rage. He was not slain, of that Rainbow was certain. It was her experience that villains like him rarely suffered such permanent losses. But, as AK Yearling would have written in one of her books, he’d been ‘lain low and desperate, his defeat utterly complete in that it was to one so much less than he subscribed himself as being.’ The thought brought a momentary grin to Rainbow.

Blinded by the blast, Rainbow bounced and skidded before coming to a stop a considerable distance away from Fleur and Polished. Bruised and sore, Rainbow laid on her back for some time, at last utterly exhausted and unable to move. She stared up at a long gouge in the cloud hanging over Marelantis, watching Selene float away from Sol, daylight returning to the disc.

She could barely muster the energy to roll her head at the heavy thud of somepony collapsing beside her. Breathing heavily, Fleur silently mouthed the words ‘thank you’, before her eyes fluttered shut. The faces of Jill Plaice and Fighting Spirit briefly blocked out Sol, the later urging the seamares with her to take care lifting Rainbow and Fleur. Underneath their hooves the island began to rumble, and then sink as they hurried for the boats.

The seamares passed Rainbow, Fleur, and to her surprise Polished’s remains up into the cutter.

It was from the gunwall half-way back to the Bellerophon Rainbow saw Twilight emerge from out of the city flying on broad strokes of her wings, Pinkie draped over her back and Faust at the princess’ side. Smiling at the spectacle, Rainbow drifted off into deserved sleep as Marelantis, at last, sank once more beneath the waves.

Book One: Chapter Eighteen: Secrets and Discoveries

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book One: Awakening and Arrivals
Chapter Eighteen: Secrets and Discoveries

Low groans, mingled with sharper yelps, and frantic sobbing washed over Luna and Iridia. The stench of antiseptics was heavy in the air, mixing with the smell of blood, dirt, and fouler things. Row upon row of beds filled Diamond Down’s town hall, the space converted into a temporary aid center and clinic. Ponies lay groaning on the vast majority of beds, while a limited number of wounded halla watched in silent discontent. Among the wounded and dying moved a number of priestesses and den-mothers aided by a few ponies, applying salves and spells as they went.

Beside her, Iridia was quiet, her lips pressed into a tight line, wings rigid from the effort of containing an outburst.

Their presence had gone unnoticed as yet, except by a few, drawing startled gasps and bows, but no more with all the wounded that needed tending.

Deputy Mayor Fairweather continually glanced up at Luna as she led them through the room, the frail earth pony stuttering as she explained the fight and aftermath. The battle—if so one-sided an affair could be called such—had been short and bloody. The halla’s charge completely overwhelmed the farmers and townsfolk. Even the few country guards the town had boasted were found wanting; all three lay outside with the other dead.

In truth, the number of dead was remarkably low, given the circumstances. When the initial reports reached her in Sparkledale, Luna had expected to find the town decimated, or worse.

She refused to give these thoughts voice, and instead paused at one bed to give a little comfort before moving onward.

Inside one of the council chambers they were shown the town’s foals. They sat on short cots, some asleep while others were underneath the attentive fussiness of their parents. Dull and listless, the foals turned to stare at the newcomers.

A cold fury swept over Luna, small sparks flitting through her mane. The depravity necessary to commit such an act was something even the Nightmare would have found utterly deplorable. She shook, a small part of her wishing the perpetrator had yet to be brought to justice so she could have exacted it herself.

“Princess, is there anything you can do for them?” Fairweather asked, her voice hesitant and soft. Even then it still boomed through the room, and drew all attention to Luna.

Not answering at once, Luna went to the nearest filly. She extended her magic over her, hoping she’d been wrong in her initial assessment.

Before Luna could do more than begin her probe, Iridia let out a long, relieved laugh. “They will be fine in a few days.” Iridia patted a colt on the withers with her wing. “Foals are remarkably resilient. If you have access to it, a few drops of Extract of Sparkle will do the trick and have them their usual, spirited selves by morning. Dark, bitter chocolate will work as well.”

Refusing to give false hope, Luna finished her magic, and what she found made her anger subside a little. Held breaths were released at her quick nod and the thin smile she gave.

Luna was troubled to see a few of the beds had nopony around them. She lingered near these foals longer than others, providing what limited comfort she could give. Old wounds, long thought closed, threatened to burst open anew, especially as she reached a soft-pink pegasus filly the exact image of Cadence when she’d been young. Her memories of that time were fractured, distorted by the Nightmare’s grip on her mind at the time. Throat tight, Luna tried to hum some old lullaby, but the tune refused to be aired. Her mind slipped back further, past the War of the Sun and Moon, when Cadence had been a filly, to when Luna had been little, and it’d been her in a similar bed having lost almost all her foster family. Celestia’s radiant smile and bouncing, free giggles thrust across the years, and the song her sister had sung for her at last broke from Luna.

Ears perked up at the first magical note, the light of curiosity entering the foals’ dull eyes. They began to push themselves upwards, and stretched towards Luna as a drowning pony would an island. She hardly noticed, her hoof stroking the mane of the filly beside her while her thoughts lingered in the ancient past.

Eventually, the song come to its end, and the foals settled once more, though there remained that little spark in the gazes.

“Thank you,” Fairweather said as they left. “Everypony was really worried when that odd priestess brought the foals back to town.”

“Something will have to be done for the orphans.” Luna sighed, and cast a last glance back over her wings.

Fairweather bobbed her head in agreement.

“An arbiter and justicar will be dispatched to see what can be done. Perhaps an orphanage can be set up here in the village. It’d be better if they could stay near their friends. Though, maybe a clean break would be better.” Luna sighed, and wished she knew what to do. Celestia would have known.

“I am more concerned about Smart Cookie’s oubliette being opened, and if it was an isolated event, or have they all been broken.” Iridia curled her upper lip and stared venomously back over her withers to the room. “Fie! I’d hoped we were done with Tirak and his brood.”

Luna grimaced in agreement. Though the foals would recover, none of them would ever be the same. If just their magic had been drained, she would not have worried, but to have their very souls syphoned was an entirely different matter.

“I should have known,” Iridia continued, her own rage building until tiny tendrils of fire appeared at the corners of her eyes or curled from the tips of feathers. “Fie! I’m the Goddess of Motherhood. I should have protected them. It is my duty to watch over all the foals. Why didn’t I sense something was amiss?”

“None of us knew, not even Celestia,” Luna countered, coming to a stop so quick that Fairweather and Iridia almost bumped into her. “If the letter about the halla crossing hadn’t become lost we could have dispatched an escort. Or a thousand other variables. It does not matter. We were all distracted. Even Ponyville escaped our notice. I just hope Celestia is finding better news awaiting her than we have here.”

Iridia tilted her head a little in agreement and ruffled her wings.

Nopony had yet told Iridia about Twilight and Leviathan. Luna did not want to be the one to inform her of the dangers Twilight had faced. At least Luna was fairly certain that Twilight was safe. Sirius and the other stars had returned to the heavens and promptly fallen to sleep just before Luna and Iridia had left Sparkledale. That the stars had been able to return to the heavens told Luna that Twilight had been at least partially successful in her endeavours, that they hadn’t attempted to rouse their sisters that Twilight was safe.

“Well, let’s get this out of the way,” Iridia said as they reached the door to the mayor’s office.

Beyond it waited the focal point of the troubles that had befallen Diamond Downs.

Luna already knew what to expect thanks to Fairweather. After telling the earth pony to wait outside, she stepped inside.

Shyara stood to one side reading, a dozen other books in a slow orbit as she scanned the words before her. More books sat in little, organised piles. Perched behind her horn she wore Trixie’s tattered old hat, the point flopping down one side.

Across the bookshelves, perched a dozen hemmravn, the spirits watching Luna as she entered.

The only other occupant of the room was River, seated beside the desk and resting with her eyes half-closed. Her ears perked up at the sound of the door shutting.

“Your Divine Highness,” River bowed her head to Luna and Iridia in turn, “Your Divine Majesty.”

Putting her books down, Shyara heaved a little sigh, glanced up, and swallowed a lump in her throat. “If you’re here to smite me, then—”

“Smite?” Luna interjected with a harsh snort. There was so much she wanted to say, all of which would have caused more trouble. “No, I am not here to,” she paused so as to spit out the next word like it were poison, “smite you. If that were the case I would not have given you time to run away, would I? You Gaean ponies are too quick with the assumption of violence. How much pain and loss could have been avoided if you, Tyr, or whomever is in the East had just tried to talk to us?”

Shyara snapped her head back in surprise, eyes widening.

“And how was she to know that we were any different?” Iridia rolled her eyes and gave Shyara a not-at-all inconspicuous wink. “Once upon a time it would’ve been true. You did not live in the Dark Era. It has its name for a reason. To halt the demons advance your mother and I had to make some very unsavory choices and harden our hearts.”

“Stop telling fibs to get the filly to like you, aunty.”

Affecting a hurt pose, Iridia gave a breathy gasp. “Fie. I would never do such a thing! No, if I wanted her favour I’d ply her with ice cream and sweet apple tarts.” She laughed at Luna’s snort of annoyance. Her good humour fading, she turned to River, and asked, “But, where is my Mountain? I thought he’d be here with you, acting all stern and muscly.”

“He… is gone,” River said, her voice cracking.

A brittle smile flitted along the corners of Iridia’s mouth, and an odd sort of laugh broke from the queen. “Now is not the time for poor jokes, River. Mountain is strong. Among the strongest mortal I’ve known. You mean he has left on some quest, surely.” Iridia turned to Luna, fear flickering behind her old eyes. “He very much wanted to take part in such grand adventures, but was cooped up by the Eagles in Thornhaven with me and had to subsist off stories.”

River shook her head. “Nay, my queen. He died slaying the doshaa along with Shyara’s guardian. They were heroes, like in the old tales, and saved the foals, and all of us.”

A wave of cold burst from Iridia, striking Luna and driving a shiver up her spine. Iridia took a half-step back, as if afraid of River, eyes darting to the windows, door, and then settling on Luna. Luna was transfixed by her aunt, by her despair, fear, and self-loathing filled gaze. Overcome, Iridia collapsed onto a bench, hooves shaking and wings hanging listless in defeat. Grasping a hoof to provide comfort, Luna took little notice of how cold her aunt had grown. Her shaking calmed, and Iridia took a deep breath, eyes closed as she warred with her emotions.

A sad laugh broke the silence. “That sounds like my Mountain. A hero of old…”

“Aunty, what is going on?” Luna very briefly wondered if she should press the issue or just provide a shoulder to lean against as the question filled the room. Committed, Luna pressed ahead. “This is not like you. You of all ponies know he’ll return in the due course of time. You’ll see him again. That is what you always told Celestia and I. What is really bothering you?”

“She’s worried about the imposter,” Shyara chimed from her corner, shifting uncomfortably on her hooves while the hemmravn arrayed above her peered with great interest down at Iridia and Luna. “I mean, the Nightwatcher. Er, Twilight.”

Luna sent a questioning look over her withers. Shyara gulp and retreated a little, bumping against the bookshelves and scattering the raven-like spirits. They wheeled about the room with shrill cries of, “Betrayer! Deceiver! Lies she spread. Told the stars her father already be dead.”

“Begone,” Iridia snapped. “Annoying pests. What are you even doing here? Go steal somepony else's secrets.”

Cackling, the hemmravn ignored Iridia and settled once more around Shyara, a mischievous grin on their twin beaks.

Putting Shyara and the spirits aside for the moment, Luna focused her attention on Iridia. “Aunty, what are they speaking about?”

“At the gala, Twilight asked after her father, and I told her that he’d passed away years ago, when he was really alive and well.” Iridia collapsed further in on herself and shifted her gaze to the floor, unable to look Luna in the eye. “A stupid lie I didn’t know how to take back. I’d hoped to make things right when she returned from her little trip. The plans were all there in my head. My apologies and explanations. She’d be mad and hurt, but I’d introduce them and give them the space they deserved. Twilight would have forgiven me. She is not a spiteful mare without reason. Now, however? I’ll… I’ll lose her forever when she learns the truth, and it is the least I deserve.”

Tears clung to Iridia’s cheeks while the twin flowers of anger and pity bloomed in Luna’s breast. Anger for Twilight’s sake, as she knew all too well the pain caused by similar lies. Yet, her pity for Iridia was undiminished, knowing all too keenly the sting of a daughter’s hatred and loathing, no matter how justified it might be.

Head snapping up, Iridia fixed a sharp look at everypony present. “This can not leave this room. Ever.”

She could see exactly what was going to happen. They’d all swear to silence, and then in a few years or perhaps a century, Twilight would uncover some writing, or letter, or through some other means the truth would appear. Twilight would grow angry—how could she not?—and confront Iridia. But, the anger would have been at being lied and manipulated for so many years.

An exasperated groan broke from Luna, and she massaged her forehead. “Aunty, this is not a secret that can be kept.”

“It must!” Iridia rounded on Luna. Her eyes wild she leapt off the couch and thrust out her wings. “I can not bear lose her too. If she discovers what I cost her, she’ll ”

“Your histrionics are not helping, aunty.” Luna replied coldly, setting her face into a stern scowl. “Twilight won’t disown you forever, but she will discover the truth eventually. Go and talk to her, now, and much of that anger can be mitigated. Every moment delayed will only magnify her pain and sense of betrayal.”

Recoiling, Iridia stuttered out a few, nonsensical words. Quick to regain her composure, such as it was with her melodrama, she sighed and wiped at her eyes with a wingtip. “I will think on the matter. For now I am going to prepare Mountain and lay him to rest in the old ways.”

“Twilight has a right to be present,” Luna said at once, with great force. “Do not take his funeral from her as well.”

“But—”

Luna’s hoof came down with a sharp crack. “No. For your the good of you both I must insist! She may refuse, but it will be her choice at least.” Iridia shied away, shocked by the force Luna’s voice. Luna did not relent. “Accept the mistakes that you made.” A devilish grin then found it’s way to Luna’s muzzle. She leaned closer, taking added relish in her next few words. “Also, you need her if you truly wish to do it by the old ways. Unless there is another daughter to give the elegy. Wait a few days and we’ll all be present. The season is no time for a funeral regardless. You’re barely standing on your hooves as it is, aunty.”

This much was true, Iridia wobbling on her hooves. With River’s assistance, Luna guided her back to the bench. Iridia clutched at Luna’s leg, holding it dear and tight, while her eyes searched Luna’s face. There was confusion, pain, and fear at war behind her blue eyes. It was a sight Luna had seen too many times in the mirror after confrontations with Cadence.

As if reading Luna’s thoughts, Iridia asked, “How do you do it? How do you face your daughter knowing all the pain you caused? I wish I was as strong as you, but I’ve become such a frightened thing when it comes to Twilight. I can’t lose her too, Lulu. I simply can’t.”

Luna hesitated to respond. Mostly as all the melodrama had faded from Iridia, and instead what was bared before her was the true state of Iridia’s heart. Everything before had been a plea, a desperate cry for guidance and reassurance. Iridia was no fool, and had known Luna’s advice before it had been spoken, just as she knew what Luna was going to say next. She was like a foal that needed a hug but was too proud to ask.

“You simply persevere.” Luna summoned a blanket to spread over Iridia, and once she was certain her aunt was settled, whispered to River, “Keep a watch on her. Your mother and her worked powerful magic today, and I do not think her fully recovered. I’ll be back for her soon, and with an escort for your herd. First I must take Shyara to Sparkledale.”

“Wait,” River pleaded, and such was the longing in her voice that Luna stopped and turned, curious. “What do you mean by this talk of my mother?”

Luna hesitated and frowned just a little, cursing Iridia for the lies and half-truths her aunt would have spun. Of course she’d either never mentioned Velvet lived, or out-right said that she’d died.

“You have family beyond the herds of the north,” Luna replied. “Actually, we are family, in a way. Your half-brother is husband to my daughter.”

Mouth working soundlessly, River stared after Luna and Shyara as they departed.

After telling the deputy mayor that more help would be dispatched within the hour, Luna led Shyara through the temporary aid station. The filly lowered her ears and shied away from the looks leveled on her by pony and halla alike. Luna ignored the looks, used to being underneath such bitter gazes.

“Remember,” Luna said to Fairweather as she stepped out into the sunlight and looked up to see her dear Selene hovering just a little further west than Sol, “the arbiters and judicators will be in charge once they arrive. They speak with Celestia’s authority.”

“I know, and thank you princess.” Deputy Mayor Fairweather bowed low.

Heaving a low sigh, she looked over the lines of covered bodies. “I wish there was more we could do, or had done.”

Sol’s orange glow splashed through the Bellerophon’s stern windows, flowing over Twilight’s desk and illuminating the unfinished letter awaiting her attention next to a glass of madeira. Three bottles sat empty on a corner of her desk, mocking Twilight as she stared out the window. In spite of her best efforts, the alcohol’s effects had yet to manifest.

There was none of the usual post-victory joy. Just loss, an emptiness like she’d been hollowed out and discarded. Tears prickled along the rim of her eyes, but developed no further.

Pinkie’s scream welled up from the recesses of her mind, followed by Leviathan’s amused giggles. She closed her eyes and saw Pinkie laying there on the floor, a spreading pool of blood around her writhing form. Twilight shook at the memories and reached out for her glass, only for it to shatter in her aura.

Clicking her tongue, she mended the glass… again.

Rainbow had staunchly refused to leave Pinkie’s side. Twilight couldn’t face Pinkie, not yet. Every time she tried to visit, she turned back, and returned to her unfinished letter. Only a thin wall divided Twilight from her friends, yet, it may as well have been the entire disc between them.

Overhead, the deck creaked as the crew tended to the fallen, sewing them into their hammocks to be sent to rest beneath the ocean waves. Of the hundred ponies that had gone to shore, almost two dozen had been left behind on the island, an equal number lay motionless on the deck, and in the sickbay. Over seventy ponies dead or hurt because of her.

She should have acted sooner and been less cautious. How many died because she’d waited most of the night and morning? How many more would be with their mess mates, instead of lying in the dark sickbay, facing the prospect of being crippled and lame the rest of their lives?

Her fault. It was her fault for dragging the crew of the Bellerophon into a battle against demons.

Scrunching her eyes shut, she reached out with her magic to summon a fourth bottle from the hold. The wine, fruity and strong, splashed over her tongue to no effect. Another glass followed, as futile as all that had come before, and she had just finished pouring the third when a polite cough announced an unwanted guest.

“No matter how much you drink, it is impossible for it to affect you,” Faust cautioned from the doorway.

Pouting a little, Twilight downed the entire glass, then snapped, more at her empty cup than her aunt, “Why? I’ve gotten drunk since my Awakening, like when I shared moonwine with Luna and Celestia.”

“Luna seems to have skipped a few details on our nature. Some rather important ones, at that.” Pouring herself a glass, Faust explained in a slow, methodical way, “My dear niece, it would take half the wine in this ship to make you a little tipsy. Moonwine is no regular vintage, and our bodies are not regular flesh and blood like those of the mortals. Take your transformation when you were going to attack Leviathan. Or Luna’s into the Nightmare.” Sipping her port, Faust gave a sigh and frowned at her cup. “Well, it’s not the worst on the disc, at least.”

Having no opinion or particular care about the wine’s quality, Twilight went back to contemplating her letter to Celestia.

How was she supposed to tell her former mentor—now cousin—what had happened? Perhaps she should just abandon the letter and tell her everything in-person when they shifted the day to night in a few hours. She couldn’t decide which was worse. Giving the unvarnished facts so impersonally, or seeing Celestia’s unfiltered disappointment.

Cup set aside, Faust sat down on the bench beneath the windows and stretched out her wings, luxuriating in the afternoon glow. She hummed a little tune to herself before switching her attention back to Twilight. “I wanted to thank you for all you’ve done.”

Twilight tore herself out of her circular thinking and turned to Faust.

“We never would have been able to stop Leviathan alone. It took all of us; you, me, Celestia, and Luna, in order to trap her for good.”

“‘For good’?” Twilight growled, staring into her empty cup. “My mom, the Nightmare, Discord; they all broke free of their prisons.”

Faust considered Twilight a few moments, as if to be certain she were serious, then laughed. “Well, no, it isn’t permanent. But we will have at least a thousand years before she is any sort of problem again. When that day comes, we’ll be there to face her. All of us. I would not wish to be in her hooves. A worry for another time, however.”

A knock preceded Rainbow pushing her way into the cabin. Bandages covered her legs and sides, and a large puffy splotch had taken over right cheek. It was far from the worst injuries Rainbow had suffered, usually brought on by her own antics, yet it only further twisted the guilt in Twilight’s stomach.

“Hey, just wanted to let you know Pinkie’s awake now,” Rainbow indicated the adjoining cabin with a jerk of her head. A slight kick to the Bellerophons stern by a shrewd wave brought a return to Rainbow’s green pallor. Stifling a groan, she leaned against the nearby cannon, her face turning an unsettling green where it wasn’t bruised.

“Come here,” Faust said as she grabbed Rainbow in her magic and floated the pegasus over. Rainbow attempted to protest, swiping and squirming to get free, but she may as well have struggled to hold back the tides with a spoon. Her fighting ended as she was set down and Faust began to massage the muscles of her wings. “My husband used to do this for me when I was pregnant with Luna.”

“Mm, that’s actually rather nice,” Rainbow hummed, her pasty appearance receding.

“You’re lucky. The baby was the deciding factor in keeping you safe. I admit, I was uncertain if they’d be able to protect you and Applejack.”

The ship creaked. Twilight froze half-way through the act of opening another bottle of wine. Rainbow stared ahead, eyes dilating like she’d just spotted a train careening towards her.

“I’m not—”

The rest of Rainbow’s protest were drowned under an eruption of noise and confetti.

“Did somepony say baby!” Pinkie exclaimed as she burst through the door, a wave of streamers and partially filled balloons pouring in around her hoove. She’d placed little stubs of incense in her mane, smoke curling up in sugary-sweet tendrils from the ends. But, it was the wide eye-patch that yanked at Twilight’s attention, refusing to allow her to look anywhere else. Smiling to show off that she’d painted a tooth black, Pinkie bounded across the cabin. “It’s taken for-ev-er to be re-revealed! My ‘Congratulations Dashie’ party supplies are all droopy.”

“Pinks, I’m not pregnant!” Rainbow shouted, loud enough that the lookout must have heard her up at the masthead. “There is simply no way. I mean, the doctor has been mixing that foul tasting stuff into the water and, you know, there isn’t enough privacy for that sort of thing around here.”

Wrapping a hoof around Rainbow’s neck, Pinkie let out one of her characteristic giggles and her smile grew. “Silly billy, of course not. The little bun was put in the oven a while ago.”

“Pinkie, how could you possibly know that Dash was pregnant?” Twilight demanded, setting the still unopened bottle aside with a heavy thud for emphasis. No sooner had the question left her than she regretted giving it voice.

Still holding Rainbow about the neck, Pinkie swirled over to Twilight and grabbed her as well.

“Well, there are only a few stallions on the ship, and the season has only been going a few days, and Dashie has been having morning sickness for weeks, and there have been the odd cravings she gets like the asparagus crackers she was asking for the other day, and that reminded me how Mrs. Cake always asked for the neatest food when she was pregnant with the twins, so, of course, Dashie ‘had’ to be pregnant!” A soft patter of giggles broke from Pinkie at the end of her explanation. “Also, that laudanum stuff the doctor gave me is ni-ice!” As Pinkie’s giggles grew, her eye began to roll counterclockwise, and then she was slumping sideways, clutching Twilight tighter to avoid falling. “It makes my head all spinny though.”

“Oh, Pinkie, never change.” Twilight gave a little, relieved smile as she and Rainbow helped Pinkie onto a chair. “Maybe you should rest a bit, and we’ll plan Rainbow’s foal-shower tomorrow.”

Gasping, Pinkie covered her mouth. “I forgot about the foal shower!” She started to hop back up, only to be met by Rainbow’s hoof, and gently pushed back down.

“A foal shower is pointless because I’m not pregnant,” Rainbow protested, but only half-heartedly. “If it makes you feel better though, Pinkie, we’ll have one. Can even have a Naming party, too.”

“If you wish to know the foal’s name now, I could tell you.” Faust chidded, stretching out a wing to poke Rainbow on the flank. “Or, would you rather wait to commune in the usual way?”

“Ugh, no way am I drinking that foul naming potion,” Rainbow stuck out her tongue and shivered. “All my aunts told me how it tastes like dirt mixed with overripe apricots. I decided long, long ago that if and when I decided to have a foal there was no way I’d bother with that silly unicorn song and dance to pray to an alicorn who’d not shown her flank in…”

Rainbow’s voice trailed off, her cheeks reddened, and she slapped a hoof to her face while Faust just grinned wider and wider. Unbidden, a laugh broke from Twilight, a light, happy little snicker that spread around the cabin.

A knock on the door quieted the remaining laughter. After Twilight bid them enter, Captain Hardy stepped into the room. With a curt nod to Twilight, he quickly turned his attention to Faust, bowing stiffly at the neck. “Ma’am, it was my hope to impress upon you to conduct the service for the deceased.”

At the mention of a funeral, the good mood that had slowly been created fled, everypony lowering their ears and heads. All save Faust, who had been expecting the request. Even before Captain Hardy had finished his request she was rising.

“It has been a long time since I was able to honour those who fight to protect everypony.”

With little else said, Faust lead the way out onto a somber deck.

The funeral was not what Twilight expected. The bodies were sewn into their hammocks and laid out along the starboard rail. A plank had been extended past the rail, a fulcrum to ease the crews burden as they sent their shipmates sliding into the churning blue waters. Everypony wore their best clothes, coats brushed, vests tightened, and the buttons on their hats polished to a mirror sheen.

At Faust stepping forward the hats came off as one and everypony gazed up at her, attentive and somber. Twilight winced to see so many of the seamares sporting dark bruises or stained bandages.

“It was spoken, in days of old, that there was no greater duty nor honour than to give one’s life in protection of the herd. That those we cherish and love might live on into more peaceful days. Each of these ponies sacrificed of themselves so that we may live. Against the greatest of odds, they raised themselves to meet the challenges, and none were found wanting. Though they knew only the conflict on Marelantis, they took part in a greater, and more ancient war than has been known on our disc. Whether in the mud of Marelantis, the coniferous temple of the Everfree, or a ruin left by another war; they all grabbed the threads of fate and weaved from them a future for us all.

“We commit their bodies to the deep, even as their souls travel the waterways to Elysium’s banks. May they find naught but peace and comfort in those golden fields, and may those yet to make that journey look ahead knowing these heroes await.”

Captain Hardy took Faust’s place, and as he began to read the names of the departed, the first two bodies slid over the side to be welcomed by the cool, gentle sea as the Bellerophon sailed onwards through the glow of the golden sunset.

Deep within the tainted eastern wastes of Tartarus, under the shadow of Mount Gehenna and far from the City of the Dead, stood a narrow fissure, like a wound from a vicious titanic axe, carved into the stone flesh of the mountain.

At the mouth, lashed to an ironwood stake, the first of many defenses to turn the unwary or foolish away scratched idly at its ear. Since the formation of Tartarus, Cerberus had been this first guardian. A hellish three-headed hound as tall as a house, Cerberus could breath the flames of Tartarus on any who drew too near. Should they withstand the fell fire, Cerberus could rend and tear with his massive jaws or black paws. Flight was no aid against the beast, a glance of his burning eyes enough to paralyze even the stoutest heart and send them plummeting.

Beyond Cerberus, a long line of adamantine columns marked the path through the narrow walls to a great hollow. Each was a protective sentinel enchanted by Hades to destroy any being that dared trespass without his blessing. Lightning arced between the columns, even the smallest bit of metal attracting the deadly bolts.

The final hurdle to any seeking passage from the underworld were the gates themselves.

Placed deep within a hollow, the golden gates could only be opened by the Lord of Tartarus’ keys. Seven such keys had been forged of the same vein of adamantine as the columns and gates. Only two yet remained. One kept at all times by Hades, and the other resting among the ruins of the former Citadel of Light at the base of Mount Alicornus.

Small bands of blue magic crawled along the gates, sparks popping in dazzling showers that skipped across the worn flagstones, surrounding them in motes of green, red, and yellow. Faster and faster the bands moved, the sparking growing in frequency to match until a constant shower of light filled the darkened hollow.

A deep, resonating boom sounded from beyond the gates. Slowly, the locks began to turn, one by one, until the hundred hidden gears within spun. More booms emanated from the locks, like the knocking of great colossus. Each was timed to one of the latches opening. Seven such knocks, seven such latches; and then the gate swung open.

Darkness filled the gate so pure the mind rebelled against, tried to deny that there was nothing to see. Madness scraped across the senses, eyes searching for something on which to focus, but there was only a vast emptiness that repelled light and thought alike.

That impossible void seemed to ripple, or perhaps undulate, but it was impossible to tell if it were a mere trick of the mind or something else. Then Hades and Zeus emerged, slipping out of the bleak slash in reality, their appearance as shocking and stark as the gate itself.

Hades stepped down to the barren floor, his wings heavy with defeat and a flat expression of pure exasperation carved into his face as though he was a bust of one of the more tragic figures of Gaean playwrights. Even his mane seemed devoid of life, and if not for an angry spark in the deepest corner of one of his blue eyes, he would have been easy to mistake for one of the souls that wandered his distant city.

Behind him Zeus all but tumbled out of the gate, trotting backwards while blowing kisses to someone unseen on the other side.

“Ha-ha! That was fun!” Zeus’ thundering laugh banged off the canyon walls before echoing out into Tartarus’ persistent stormy skies.

“‘Fun’? Yes… A regular riot of amusement,” Hades snorted, eyes rolling as the gates slammed shut. “Let us never, ever, speak of this ‘fun’ we had, brother.”

His laughter subsiding into low chuckles, Zeus draped a wing over his brother’s withers. “Oh, come now Hades, it wasn’t bad at all.”

“Truly?” Hades slapped Zeus’ wing away. “While you were off cavorting with the locals, I was the only one actually looking for our wayward daughters.”

“I know you weren’t Mr. Mopey the whole time.” Zeus’ eyes twinkled with mischief as he leaned up against a nearby column. From beneath a wing, he pulled out an apple, golden as the gates, but with a lustre that made them seem dull in comparison. Shining it on his chest, though it was hardly necessary, Zeus made sure Hades had noticed the apple before saying, “You certain you don’t want to try one? They would make even an ancient sour-pus like you into a colt again.”

Nostrils flaring, Hades stamped a hoof. “Unlike some gods, I have no desire to cast aside the wisdom I’ve earned for childish antics.”

“Childish?” Zeus repeated the word as he stopped shining his prize.

“Yes, childish! You and that blustering dunkard were a pair of fools the entire time.”

Hades marched up to Zeus, and raised a hoof to smack the apple away. Zeus pulled the apple out of Hades’ before the blow could be struck, adding a disappointed nicker.

“I was being sociable, not pouting like somepony I know. By my beard, brother, you need to lighten up before we find the girls or they’ll wonder if somepony has died.”

Grinding his teeth, Hades was about to launch what he thought was a truly biting quip when a polite cough drew the brothers’ attention.

Standing next to the dozing form of Cerberus was a skinny, young mare. Long silky grey wings clung to her sides, while she propped an elbow on Cerberus’ shoulder, chin resting on her hoof. Her three-toned curly mane of dark blue stripes framed her gaunt face. Beneath an almost stubby horn, at least by alicorn standards, were a set of even darker blue eyes, the iris’ merging into the pupil so smoothly they appeared to suck at the souls of those she gazed upon.

“Lethe! What are you doing here, you little filly?” Zeus bounded past Hades, and before Lethe could respond, she’d been swept up into a crushing hug.

Wriggling out of Zeus’ grasp, Lethe responded by giving the king of the gods a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“I came to give you some crucial information. I’ve learned where the others were sent.”

Zeus grinned wide and let out his thunderous laugh once more.

“Excellent! Excellent! Ha-ha!” His laughter died as suddenly as it had come, and he tugged at his beard. “But, this steals half the fun, you know. It’s barely been a couple centuries since we started looking. I’d hoped to get ol’ gloomy-gus out of the underworld for at least a millennia or so. See some of the worlds. Have a laugh or three.”

Hades thrust an accusatory hoof at his brother. “Ah-ha! You admit this has been a wild basilisk chase, then?”

“Of course not. But the journey is as much the point as the destination, you know.” Zeus tapped a hoof a few times as he thought, then shook his head when no clear conclusion could be reached. “Well, if you found them, you found them. Could be some fun on this… which world did you say they were on?”

“I didn’t,” Lethe smirked, “And if you really want to find them yourselves…”

“Ha-ha! Smart filly! Just like your mother. You have her eyes, you know. As beautiful as the jewels of—”

Hades loudly clearing his throat interrupted Zeus before he could enter into a fine flow of flattery. Pulling his brother away from her, Hades fixed Lethe with a stern look. “And what makes you so certain you’ve even found them. You could be sending us away just to be rid of us.”

“If I wanted that I would just let Zeus drag you from world to world without a compass to guide you.” Lethe gave a disapproving click of her tongue, returning his stare with one of equal venom. “I did not expect you, of all gods, to believe me outright. So, I brought confirmation.”

She beat her wings once, a swirl of dust forming for but a moment before parting to reveal Rarity, dripping wet and clutching a struggling Trixie for dear life.

Hollow, empty eyes stared up at the three gods as Rarity trembled and wavered like a tree about to fall. Her mouth moved to form words but no sounds could be heard until she gave a coughing whine and toppled. Trixie let out a shout as she was pulled down, unable to wriggle free or force her way out of Rarity’s grip.

A flicker of revulsion made Hades step back from the pair.

While Trixie was easily discerned as a good and just soul that had no place within Tartarus, her presence adding a glow of hope within the dreary landscape, it was Rarity that drew his disgust.

Her soul was fractured and wrong. Hades would have said ‘corrupted’, but the word could not do justice to the damaged thing whimpering in a pile before him. By all rights, it should not have been possible for a soul to be so damaged and yet remain coherent, even the vestiges of energy that had once formed it pulled apart. As he watched, more and more of the cracks healed, only for others to break, rising from within.

“What is the meaning of this?” he snarled, hoof thrust at the broken thing sprawled before him.

Even as the question left him, Hades already knew the answer.

He’d seen such a soul once before, long, long ago.

A dreadful affair that had been, when the former God of Order abandoned his post watching over the prison holding the slumbering Quus and got himself killed. Hades did not know all the specifics, only that, towards the end, a wretched thing that had encountered the dead god’s essence had come stumbling into Tartarus demanding a cure. Instead, Hades had cast the impertinent pony out of his domain. The encounter had stuck with him, though, gnawing on his thoughts for many decades.

“She’s encountered a shade, and you bring her here?” Hades raised a wing, ready to send the babbling mass before him away from Tartarus, only to be stopped by Zeus.

No mirth or habitual good humour remained on Zeus’ features as he stepped forward, his face reminiscent of a building thunderhead in the distance. “Tell me, from where do you hail, little ponies?”

Stopping in her efforts to escape Rarity’s clutches, Trixie looked up at the three gods as if seeing them for the first time. Her face morphed from irritation to hope and then fear in an instant.

“If you help Trixie, she will gladly—”

“This is not a negotiation,” Zeus said with a thump of his hoof. “Where are you from?”

Trixie shrunk back, and stuttered out, “M-Manehatten.”

“Not the land. The world. What is the name of your world?”

Confusion covered the pony’s features before she said, “Ioka, of course. Everypony knows that… Right?”

Turning away from the ponies, both entirely forgotten at once, Zeus tugged on his beard and frowned. “Ioka… I do not recall this world. Have any of our wayward kin settled upon it?”

“A few.” Hades lifted his head to scan the darkness above as if by looking hard enough he would see Ioka manifest. “I believe it is claimed by Iridia and Faust.”

“Truly? Ha! There are names I thought never to hear again!” Zeus’ smile returned at once, his teeth glowing as a patch of lightning overhead lit up the canyon. “I thought them lost in the war. But they found a world to call their own, just the two of them? What a stroke a fortune, though Faust always was a tricky one. She’s a luck goddess, correct?”

“I thought she was among the Moirai,” Hades corrected, staring back into the mists of time before time, and finding no answers in his memories. After a few moments he shrugged and abandoned the effort as being pointless. “It has been so long, and I never had much to do with either, that I can not seem to recall.”

Zeus’ laugh filled the canyon again, and he eagerly scuffed his hooves. “A Fate? That could prove interesting.”

“What should we do with them?” Hades flicked his head towards the ponies.

Putting on her most charming smile, Trixie said, “You could send Trixie back to her home, yes?”

Zeus ran his hoof over his beard some more as he thought. Eventually he let out a long grunt followed by a shrug of his wings. “You are dead, little pony, and a mortal realm is no place for a wandering soul. You would hate yourself and those who yet live in equal measure and hunger for that which you no longer possess. Eventually you’d grow to detest the living and seek some means of bringing them harm. Nay, the mortal realms are no place for even the glorious dead of Elysium.”

“For once you say something sensible,” Hades agreed with a bob of his head and a sneer. “Lethe can have them back, and do with them what she will.”

Lethe arched a single brow and snorted. “What use do I have for some wayward hero and… that thing?”

“Bah, if you do not care to take them then have them sent to Olympus and I will deal with them when I return home.” Zeus stamped a hoof and made to return his attention to the gate, but Hades wouldn’t let him, a long sigh rattling from his brother.

“That’s not how things work, brother. Elysium—”

“Ha-ha, not how things work? Hades, we are the gods and make exceptions all the time. We create the rules, enforce them, and when necessary bend them just a little. And it will just be a little while, until… uh…” Zeus blinked and scrunched up his face, gaze flitting back to Rarity. “What is her name?”

“It’s Rarity,” Trixie grumbled, and started to add more but the gods once again began to ignore her.

Hades snorted. “Rarity? Mortals and their common names.” A smile ghosted across his features, and then a groan broke from Lethe while Zeus roared with laughter.

“Ha-ha-ha! You can still joke, brother!” Zeus clapped a hoof to Hades’ wither with a blow that shook the mountain.

“Yes, well, perhaps I am feeling just a minute tinge of hope now that we have a firm destination.” Hades brushed off Zeus’ hoof and clicked his tongue. The humour was fleeting, dying in the span of a newborn’s heartbeat, and he once again took on his grim and dour aspect. To Lethe he commanded, “This is my realm so I will decide their fates. Place them somewhere in Tartarus away from prying eyes. Give them no passage from this realm, no word of guidance or warning save to keep them hidden from the other dead. I will deal with them when I return. Whether it is to give them assistance or punishment will depend on what has befallen my precious Artemis.”

Lethe wisely chose not to argue, and picking Rarity and Trixie up, vanished into a drifting mist.

Hades watched the mist until it had left the canyon, then turned to find Zeus with a worried expression on his usually smiling face. “This is troubling, brother. For her to reach such a state…”

“I know.”

“We should not have tarried so long with—”

“I know, brother!” Zeus’ thundered and struck a hoof to the ground. “Fretting will do nothing. We must hurry to save our daughters. And if what has befallen Serene has been done to them as well, we will bring such a storm down on the perpetrators that all will know what it means to anger a god.”

Hades did not argue the point, only ground his teeth a little and opened the Gate to Ioka. He stared hard at the void that devoured the space between the arches. With wings flared and a flurry of emotions smashing against his breast, Hades marched beside Zeus towards the waiting world.

End of Book One: Awakening and Arrivals

Author's Note

Well, this is the first time I've ever completed the second draft of a novel.

There is so much I've learned while writing Myths, and I want to thank everyone who has stuck with the story to this point. I might do a post-mortem blog discussing everything, but now that it has come to this point, I don't know what to say really. It's been a long process, with so many ups and downs.

I can't say I am pleased with everything, especially in a few of the middle chapters. But, that is normal. I would find it stranger if I went, 'Yup, this is perfect'. No doubt I'll eventually look back and be aghast at all the problems I'll then see.

Special thanks goes to Honey Mead, WNA, Cerulean Voice, Saint Juniper, and so many others who helped with pre-reading. I am so sorry for all of you who I failed to name. Give me a poke and I'll make certain to add you!

Additional thanks goes to Cast-Iron Caryatid, who helped inspire me to get back into writing, and especially try my hand at the 'Twilicorn' sub-genre in a time before the show gave her wings.

It's hard to imagine that Myths was started four years ago.

I hope Myths has been an enjoyable read. Thank you again, everyone.

Book Two: Prologue

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duties and Dreams
Prologue

It was an unusually cold summer day in the valley.

Or, rather, it should have been day.

Villagers gathered in small clusters in front of their little cottage homes, speaking in lowered voices and casting worried glances to the dark eastern sky. Marked only by the bells of the new clock tower, it had been three days since Sol had last crested the horizon, and with her absence, night reigned eternal across the sky.

It had been a novelty, at first.

Princess Celestia was a little late. This was in and of itself a little odd. Though the ponies of the valley knew little of the princess across the ocean, they knew she was always prompt in keeping to the almanacs Equestria printed. For her to not just be late but entirely absent was beyond imagining.

The foals took to playing games at first, as they were wont to do. They scampered and laughed around the streetlamps, taking advantage their parents bemusement and the novel darkness to play games of hide-and-seek like never before. Ghost stories were told by the older colts and fillies, and in general, life attempted to continue as if nothing were awry.

By what should have been nightfall, the mood had begun to sour. Parents corralled their little ones into the comfortable safety of their homes, kissing them on the forehead as they tried to keep their own fears in check. All prayed that in a few hours Sol would lift over the eastern rim of the disc and everything would return to normal.

A few of the adults stayed up that night, and as what should have been dawn approached, they began to gather in the temple. They came in fits and starts, the faithful and the headstrong alike, all bowing in prayer to Faust and Celestia for the sun to return. The local Speaker, Faust’s priestess to the rural town, had a large, elaborate grandfather clock setup beside her lectern and peered at it with a sharp intensity as if by doing so she could will Sol to return.

The clock rang five, and everypony swivelled in their seats to peer out the windows up at the eastern mountain’s edge. They clutched each other, staring, waiting, hoping for the tell-tale golden glow that would herald Sol and the return to order.

By noon, panic settled in and the sense of novelty was lost even on the foals.

They were as though struck blind and deaf, for Equestria lay two months beyond their shores and no news would be coming from those distant lands. Any message needed to be carried by ship over rolling sea and through raging storms. The only way faster was through the use of curulícum candles, and just two such candle pairs existed to carry letters between Equestria and Prance. Both were in the capitol, and the only messages that had been passed were entreaties for information, and silence received for their efforts. Not that any response would have reached anypony outside the upper echelons of Prance’s government. Equestria was, in effect, cut-off from the rest of the disc. Under such a heavy silence, even the queens of the old world came to realise the true fragility of their ordered world.

With no other recourse, the ponies of Prance, and all the Old Queendoms, prayed.

The churches and temples overflowed into the streets as they gathered, hooves clasped and head bowed in whispered prayers to Celestia, begging her to return and bring back the sun. They prayed and prayed, and when their voices grew hoarse and the words lodged in their throats they just held each other and wept until they went home to sleep. The next day, though it was impossible to tell with the moon sitting right above the disc, unmoving, cold, a silent silver sentinel with her face bereft of the ancient Mare in the Moon that all ponies had known for the last thousand years, they made their way back to the temples.

Shoulders heavy with trepidation, Jardin Reves left her home, as she had the previous morning, and joined the slow, shuffling crowd. An average mare, remarkable only in her utter mundanity, she hadn’t done anything more than brush her bright orange mane so it wasn’t a tangled mess against her soft tan coat. Ears flat, head low, she disappeared in the crowd, just as she hoped.

Unlike those around her, she was alone in the crowd. No wives or husband to offer a comforting touch. Her home had never known the sharp bleats of a foal. A home she’d inherited from her mama ten years earlier.

With their greater concerns, the villagers barely glanced at her, and none made the snide sneer of ‘poor spinster’ just loud enough for her to hear.

Approaching the temple, Jardin spotted a few of the mares responsible for most of the hurtful gossip. As she passed, she heard one mare say to another, “What if it is true? What if Celestia is dead? Or imprisoned by some foul demon? It is Leviathan! The terrible serpent has awoken and, loathing the sun, has wrapped Sol in her endless coils, stealing away the light so that no-pony but her may enjoy the warming rays.”

No sooner had the first panicked whispers of the idea been uttered than the Sisters of Names appeared in the village.

They came singing a chant in the ancient language of Thuelesia. Though she couldn’t understand the lyrics, the sentiment carried was clear in the gentle refrain. Their voices were so calm and buoyant, seeming to reach up to touch the stars themselves on the high notes, and then grow low to settle around the anxious crowd like a comforting blanket. It was the prayer of Spiritus Domini Harmonious, and it was recited with such conviction that the villagers began to fall to their knees and weep.

Jardin stepped off to the side, and whispered a private prayer.

“Faust Invictus, wherever you have hidden, you are needed. Please, help us. Help return Sol to the heavens. Return your daughter to us. Please.”

As with the thousands of others being issued across the disc in that moment, Jardin’s plea received no reply. She had expected none. If anypony would hear the goddess respond, it would not be a lonely, shunned florist.

Rather than utter another useless prayer, Jardin watched the sisters.

At the procession head, in her plain white robes, marched the abbot from the nearby monastery, a staff with six rings held aloft in her magic. With every rise and fall of the staff the rings chimed, creating a soft melody on which the chant could reside. Attached to the staff, just below the rings on the head, hung a simple lantern, its swinging light illuminating the way.

For generations almost uncounted, the sisters and their monastery had resided deep within the valley. Built on a cliff-top part way up the mountain, the monastery’s lights could be seen for leagues away, far into the rolling hills at the valley’s mouth. It was an impressive monastery, with hundreds of sisters living within the long, tiered buildings hugging the white stone face. Over the centuries the sisters had dug a honeycomb network of tunnels and rooms into the mountain, using the stone they cut to form newer and greater additions to the external structure. Buttresses flew out like the wings of pegasi over the cliffside, holding the high walls up seemingly on the very air itself.

To the villagers surprise, the sisters did not turn towards the temple or stop there in the wide square, but continued onward, leaving by a small path that was hardly maintained that lead into one of the valley’s smaller tributaries, ending in the chateau ruins

Nopony within the village knew when the chateau had been built, nor when it had been abandoned, only that it long predated the village. Though left untended for countless years, the chateau stood in remarkably good condition. A proud structure three stories in height, powerful magic had been used in its construction and the formation of the long overgrown gardens, keeping the worst of time’s effects away.

Shards of stained glass clustered beneath the broken windows, while birds and other small animals had long used the rotten furniture for homes. A thick coat of ivy clung to the entire structure, tendrils working their way through the blue tile roof, so that the entire edifice seemed almost to be a remarkably blocky hill.

A haunted, frightening place, the villagers usually shied away from the ruins.

That unusual day, spurred on by faith, or fear, or just unsure what else they could do, they followed the sisters along the overgrown path.

As they trotted, the villagers picked up the threads of the sisters’ songs, adding their own voices in uncertain, thready bursts that grew in confidence the closer they came to the chateau. Jardin found herself joining the chorus, the tune bringing a subtle warmth to her chest as it flowed up the valley walls towards the twinkling stars.

Just as she crossed the invisible threshold between the village and the ruins, Jardin lifted her head and came to a stop, the next few words to the song lodged in her throat. There, just above the peak of the mountain, glimmered the Three Sisters; Alnitak, the Stonestar; Alnilam, the Chancestar; and Mintaka, the Luckstar. That night, Mintaka shone brighter than her sisters, and Jardin was certain the stars were watching the valley.

Along the back of her ears floated a whisper, haunting and slow, filtering through the gap between songs. Jardin twisted her head to see who’d spoken, but found no-pony. Only another path, the dew soaked grass undisturbed and leading off towards the black face of a cliff. She started to ask the pony next to her if he’d heard anything, but found the words fade before they could be spoken. Nopony else was paying attention to anything but the song.

Slowing a little, she cast a longing look down the path, caught between continuing with the villagers, or following where it lead. Again the whispers drifted across her ears, more insistent this time.

Withers tingling, she left the procession and started down the path, her departure as unremarked as her initial joining.

Quickly, Jardin lost her way, the path folding into the night at every bend, trees and shadow casting long, murky shapes. A warning in the back of her head told Jardin to return to the crowd. She could hear the song still, and with it she had a guidepost back to the safety of the herd. At the edge of a sparse glade she almost gave into that voice.

Heavy wingbeats banished any such thoughts under a more pressing, and primal fear. Heart smashing against her chest, she ducked into the deepest of the shadows, eyes scanning the star studded sky. Within it she pictured the griffons of old, torn straight from the picture books of her youth, with armour glinting in the moonlight and curved, razor sharp beaks beneath cold, flashing eyes.

Out of the velvet tapestry of the night descended five pegasi. It had been years since Jardin had last seen one of the tribe, few making their home near the mountains. The valley was so unimportant that it didn’t even have a weather team, the cycles of nature left to sort itself out. Swooping down, it wasn’t until they landed, hooves kicking at the soft ground to arrest their momentum, that Jardin saw how much larger these pegasi were than those she’d known as a filly, with wings to blot out the moon and stars.

None had the lean build or blunted wings for quick turns in the forests of the western Raven herds. Each stood taller than the largest stallion in the village, their heads held high and eyes darting upwards in expectation.

All mares, they wore a variety of clothes, from broad sashes and capes emblazoned with their own cutie marks that draped over their flanks, to nothing more than small, round hats. The closest of the group had a steel peytral about her neck, and armoured greaves snug above her hooves.

“They are late. Why are they late?” The furthest of the group spoke in a sullen whisper. “We all agreed at the last meeting to be here together. Have they forgotten?”

The mare figeted and wrung her hooves. A wide brimmed bonnet, white flowers tucked into the band was pushed back to show her startling bright aquamarine eyes. Over her soft yellow coat hung a loose matching green dress. In the moonlight, she glowed like freshly forged bronze as she paced back and forth near the edge of the glade, her intense gaze fixed towards the valley’s entrance.

“Hush, Posey, they will either be here, or they will not. Fretting will solve nothing on the matter,” the mare closest to where Jardin hid said in the clipped, eastern accent of Stalliongrad. Or, perhaps from further north. Jardin had never been very good at discerning accents.

Every movement clinked with the shifting of metal against metal. Beneath her peytral was a suit of well-fitted plated-chain mail. Her greaves, though embossed, were clearly more for function than form. And along the leading edges of her long wings flashed silvery blades.

Jardin gaped at this mare, not just because she was nearest, and thus the easiest to make out. True pegasus wing-swords were unheard of outside of museums and private collections. They stood in display cases only, prized center pieces or irreplaceable heirlooms. But, something about this mare told Jardin that, not only was she proficient in the blades, she’d put them to use only recently.

Adjusting her flowing, dragon and flower embroidered robes, the third of the group pouted at her fellows. “It won’t be long now. The mistress has found the old castle and goes to confront the usurper.” She had an even thicker accent than her armoured companion, but from the east, Neighpon or Canton perhaps.

This mare was all elegance, as if she’d stepped out of an eastern painting. Her every move was precise and controlled, and each turn of her head weighted for beautiful effect. She did not belong in some out of the way woods, but in the ballrooms of queens, conversing as an equal with duchesses and princesses.

“So, we five are all that remain?” asked the fourth with a long, forlorn sigh. By far the plainest looking mare, she wore a simple set of saddlebags and hooded cloak that blended perfectly into her ruddy brown fur. Her dirty grey mane was held into a simple tail by a matching ribbon. A short mouth-knife, like the kind used by earth pony sailors, strapped to her left foreleg was the only thing that marked her as unusual, aside from her size, though she was, by a good few inches, the shortest of the group. “From dozens to this?”

“It has been several centuries since we last gathered, that our numbers have dwindled is no surprise, Maia,” spoke the final member of the group, her voice surprisingly sharp with the distinct nasally twang of Hackney, but with hints of another dialect that Jardin could not place.

Unlike her sisters, this mare wore nothing; not a dress, nor blades, nor even saddlebags. With her back to Jardin, little could be made of the mare’s features beyond her purple coat, almost black in the night, and bubblegum pink, frizzy mane.

“Are we certain that they just aren’t running late? We can’t just write them off as… destroyed.” Posey exclaimed, wringing her hooves and giving her fellows pleading glances. Focusing on the mare in the elegant robes, she asked, “What about Tianguan? Or Asper? You spoke to them not long ago, Tian, didn’t you?”

“Tianguan made up her mind to confront the usurper directly on her return, and elected to travel to Equestria. She won’t be coming, or ever seen again, most likely.” Tian shook her head, robes drifting about her in a painted cloud with each motion. “As for Asper…. I assumed she would come with Acamar.”

“A dragon attacked her village last year.” The armoured pegasus’ wings trembled with barely suppressed anger as she spoke. “She and the beast felled each other. Her descendants performed a sky burial.”

The others sagged with the weight of loss and grief, Posey wiping tears from her brilliant eyes. A short silence settled on the group for a few minutes, each of the pegasi retreating into their own thoughts. Jardin was tempted at that time to make herself known, but the same whispers that had brought her to that place also told her to remain hidden.

“Do you think that the others are correct? Is it really the mistress at last?” Posey asked, her gentle question not so much breaking the silence as making it swirl into noise, like a leaf falling onto a mirror smooth pond. “Is the time of prophecy at last upon us?”

Acamar snorted and began to pace. “I don’t put my faith in the mistress, or prophecy. If she is real and has at last come, then good. If not, then so be it.”

“She will find us,” spoke the fifth mare with iron certainty, bobbing her head so her mane frizzled about her head. “And we will be as we were always meant.”

“Zana, there is no guarantee that she will restore us as she will Luna,” Tian said gently, trying to soften her sister’s exuberance. “Regardless, she needs to make haste. This night has gone on for far too long. Our sisters grow tired and weak. They need rest. Sol and Selene may be able to stay in the heavens for weeks unending, perhaps months or years. But no single star has a hundredth the energy of our cousins. Not even the Firestar.”

A snort broke from Acamar carrying a playful grin in its wake. “Best Sirius never hear you say as much.”

“Pah!” Tian exclaimed with a sharp laugh. She puffed out her chest to the sniggers of a couple of her sisters. “I have no fear of Sirius. Nor should any of you! She hides in the heavens still. The great and mighty Sirius, afraid of a little fire and fall. But not us. We all chose to fall. Well, except you Zana.”

The frizzy maned pegasi dipped into a little bow. “You know I would have, if Luna had but asked. I don’t hold any anger for what she did. Nopony else could have attempted to the little dreamer.”

“You may not blame her, but I am not so forgiving,” purred a voice from the shadows gripping the forest.

The gloom bulged and took new form, a mare seeming to coalesce rather than simply walk into the light. Her dark coat and feathers blacker than obsidian on a starless night.

The five mares went rigid, eyes flashing with a mix of fear and rage as they spun to face the latecomer. Acamar dropped into an aggressive crouch, the blades on her wings shining, but it was the plain mare that drew the most attention, silvery fire alighting along her wings as she jumped to her sister’s side.

“What, no hugs for your only other sister on the disc?” The question hissed like water dancing on a scalding pan. Hips swaying in a seductive roll, she strolled around the clearings edge, almost seeming to corral the others to its center. The moonlight playing off her obsidian coat took on a sinister sheen with every step, heightened by the devilish grin she wore and the glow in her red eyes.

A shiver like ice water beneath her fur worked its way down Jardin’s spine.

While all the pegasi carried themselves with an air of strength, this one had such a dangerous aura about her that it choked the air in Jardin’s lungs.

Tian and Maia both took wary stances, falling closer towards their battle-ready sisters, and then Posey bounded forward with a piercing shout. “Algol! You live!” She exclaimed in the breath before she crashed into the dark coated newcomer and swept her into a spinning hug. “I thought Wynn and the Elements of Harmony had destroyed you! How is this possible!”

“Destroyed? Ha, the Elements of Harmony are too weak willed and dulled to kill. Nay, they merely locked me away beneath the earth where our sisters’ lights could not reach me.” Her voice turned darker still, all affectation of mirth stripped bare by her accusatory tone. “For fifteen hundred years I languished in the dark with only the spirits of the dead as company. And all through it I wondered, ‘Where are my sisters? Why have they not come for me? Why is all blue and black?’ Why was I abandoned?”

Releasing her sister, Posey backed away in shock. Trembling, Algol turned her back on the other pegasi, and stared deep into the shadowed place in which Jardin hid. For just an instant they locked eyes, and the chill spread deeper into Jardin’s bones.

Jardin tried to shrink further into the shrubbery. The sense of intruding upon the profane gripped her. Those ruby eyes held her fast, however, pinning her to the spot with dread. She wished she’d never left the procession.

“We are sorry, Algol. We didn’t know.” Posey’s voice was soft with the pained truth. “If we had known… Wynn swore that Faust awful oath, and then with the war and the ice… When the Elements of Harmony emerged from the north and you were no-where to be found, we thought you dead. You were not abandoned. Not by us.”

A shudder worked it’s way through Algol, and she ground her teeth together. “It hardly matters now. What is done can not be changed.” A flick of her wing dismissed any further apologies or discussion. The gesture did not seem to relax Acamar, Maia, or Zana, but a relieved smile crossed Tian’s face, and Posey brightened and went to Algol’s side. As Posey’s wing was extended across her back, Algol asked, “Why are you here? The mistress is to appear in Equestria. Isn’t that where you belong? With her and the lavender screams?”

Tian and Maia both attempted to caution Posey, but before either could intercede, she said, “Our sisters have already aided in the Nightmare’s escape, and soon her madness will end. We are here to see the root cause, the madness itself, is contained.”

From a pocket in her dress, Posey withdrew a large, pure blue diamond the size of her hoof. Algol’s eyes locked onto the gem and widened in horror.

“You would consign her to an existence of grey nothingness?” The question seethed from Algol, growing into a near howl that shook Jardin in her hiding place.

She tried to shout a warning too late. Algol lashed out as Posey tried to form a response, striking out with the bladed tip of her feathers. A scream filled the night. Gem falling from her hoof, Posey staggered away, a brilliant line of crimson flowing from her eyes.

“I am sorry sister, but I can not risk your stare.” Algol scooped up the gemstone and then cast it into the waiting dark of the woods in a single, fluid motion as Tian and Zana caught Posey, Acamar and Maia taking a defensive position on either side of the huddle. “I wish it could have been different, but your tongue is green with poisoned words.”

“Algol, she is you sister,” Acamar bellowed. She lept into the air, twisting into a short dive, starlight flashing off the blades along the edge of her wings. A dark flash cast her back and tumbling towards her sisters.

“Aye, you are. And that is why this brings me no pleasure.”

Algol took a deep breath and dark malice flashed within her ruby gaze and on her voice as she advanced on her sisters. Starting as a dreadful whisper that chilled the soul, it rose and rose; and with dreadful purpose, Algol began to sing.

A curse upon your House. A curse upon your House. A curse upon your House.

From the depths I do return,

Guided by vengeance are my wings.

I call upon the decay and pestilence.

Send the pox upon my kin, carry it across the wind.

Spread the boils upon their skin. Sores and pus weep with their sin.

‘Til rent of fur and mane as was I!

A curse upon your House!

Behind the Demonstar, a black buzzing cloud appeared, twisting and writhing, ten million green eyes a-glimmer within its depths. High overhead, the sky crackled, and in the west, hidden behind mountain and tree, a rainbow glow began to grow. The five sisters stood their ground, Tian and Maia combining their power to conjure a shield of shimmering blue that rang like a bell beneath the blow of the cloud.

“Sister, please!” Posey reached out a pleading, bloody hoof, but Algol was lost, consumed by ancient rage and lost to her spellweaving. “Don’t do this!”

I call on upon the dark and twisted things.

Send the beasts, send the fell, claws from sky and fangs from hell.

Freeze ’er marrow with ‘er knell, drag ‘er bones down the well.

‘Til lost of dreams as was I!

A curse upon your House!

Living shadows leapt up around and within the shield, formed into giant, monstrous wolves. The battle that ensued was brief but intense in its primal ferocity. Magic flashed, kicks were met with teeth and yelps of pain, and trees were uprooted by a bleak wind. Jardin blinked, unable to follow what had happened, knowing only that the sisters lay on the ground, pinned beneath the heavy shadows.

“The mistress will find you, Algol. She will know of your betrayal. It will echo in her soul, no matter how you try to hide the truth,” Tian snarled, struggling in futility against the paw pressed against her back.

“Good. Then maybe she will finish what her sister started, and the Demonstar will at last know peace.” Algol lifted her head and stared to the west, where the rainbow in the clouds grew closer and brighter.

I call upon the scourge and the storm.

Tear their flesh from the bone, sunder their spirit from its home.

Broken down all alone, torn away from their throne.

‘Til they are formless as was I!

A curse upon,

A curse upon

A curse upon your House.

Bands of aether swept down from Algol’s outstretched wings as she sang, entwining about her sisters and lifting them out of the shadow’s grasp. No matter how they struggled and fought or what oaths they gave on furious breaths, the tendrils could not be broken. Violent, violet magic swept down the bands, and when it reached the pegasi they spasmed and screamed. They screamed in such terror and pain that Jardin could no longer watch and had to look away.

She did not see the final moments of the sisters, and wished she could forget the sound of their tortured voices. Lightning crackled off the valley walls until it was drowned out by an approaching roar of primal magic.

The night gripping the valley was banished by a rainbow hurricane, the sky whipped into a frothing, spinning nexus. Multi-hued flames fell on the forest and distant town. Staccato bangs washed over Jardin, carried on the howl of the rising winds. At the center stood Algol. She spun and laughed, wings stretched wide, five gleaming orbs around her; her sisters nowhere to be found.

It took Jardin a moment to realize that the shimmering opal balls were the pegasi.

Like a spinstress, Algol drew threads from the orbs of singing energy. Around and around her she spun and weaved the threads until they hung in the air, suspended like spiderwebs. Faster she worked, rising onto her hindlegs, wings darting in and out, drawing forth new threads and severing old strands. Her breaths quickened; the song long subsumed beneath the maelstrom in the heavens.

An eye opened in the clouds. Jardin saw the stars, saw them glow brighter than ever been before, and knew that they were watching back.

Through the eye descended a column of blinding light. Pulled by some unseen force, it crashed into the woven threads and Algol. Black against a silver sheen, Algol stood triumphant, then all the valley collapsed into a void.

No light.

No sound.

And then the dawn broke.

Jardin lay frozen beneath the bushes for several minutes staring up at the golden glow alighting on the mountain tops. Her heart hammered in her chest as if she’d fled a manticore. Sweat covered legs trembled as she forced herself up and glanced around the little vale.

The quiet, secluded sanctuary was transformed. Thick swaths of blackened, burnt grass and stone stretched out from the central point to the trunks of trees. Five crystal menhir stood in a ragged semicircle, marking the final places of the pegasi. And before them, at the precise spot of the final blast, rested a small, dark blue form.

“I was beginning to think that you had been left pale white,” Algol said right next to Jardin’s ear.

A yell breaking from her dry throat, she spun and found herself nose to nose with the abyssal mare wearing a predatory grin Algol with casual ease. In a tight arc, she circled around Jardin, ruby gaze taking in everything. Jardin had never felt so naked or vulnerable before, and trembled. She tried to back away. But Algol would not let her, keeping pace, a soft click of her tongue showing disapproval.

“I-I—”

A hoof flashed up, forestalling any excuse or arguments Jardin could offer. What they would have been, what she could have said eluded her like she were casting a net to catch smoke. Mouth dry, she backed up further until she hit a stout tree.

“Do not worry. My words are gold and white.” The grin shifted to something approaching comforting, but there was a wrongness still. An intangible air of violence just at the corners of the mare’s eyes. “If I’d wanted to kill you, I would have done so already.”

She stepped back and with a motion of her wing for Jardin to follow, went to the heart of the vale.

Jardin glanced to the side, to the path she’d taken, and for a fleeting instant considered running. But no earth-bound pony could escape a pegasus. Any such attempt would only cause anger. Anger she doubted she’d survive.

If Algol could so easily kill her sisters, what could she do to her?

Trembling more with each step, Jardin approached the magic’s epicenter. And there, amid the ash and cooling slag, was a filly. She could not have been more than eight, or perhaps nine. The edges of a cutie mark could just be made out on dark blue flanks. She would have seemed dead, if not for the slightest puff of breath.

Jardin shot a questioning look at Algol. “W-Who? How?”

“She is… my friend.” Algol clicked her tongue and winced, reaching down with a wingtip to brush a lock of the filly’s silver mane away from her face. “No, friend is too imprecise. She and I are bonded. You would not understand, mortal as you are. I can not remain, and she needs a caretaker.”

“What?” Jardin took a step away, heartbeat quickening. Each thump shook her chest and constricted her throat.

Another flick of Algol’s wings and in a swirl of magic an ornate mane broach appeared. With the most tender of care, she slid it next to the filly’s ear, pinning it in place.

“This is why I called you here.” Algol shot a sideways glance at Jardin. “This is why I sang the song of black and green. Somepony has to watch over her. Keep her hidden, keep her safe. Someone who is not I.”

Swallowing the growing lump, Jardin understood this was not a request. Her gaze dipped for a moment to the feathers stained with Posey’s blood, tacky edges all that gave away the grim crime committed.

Yet, she still almost said no. The refusal filled her mouth, burned in her chest, even as it made her gut twist and turn.

But, the filly let out a yawn. She stretched, tail swishing in the ash, and rolled over, a back hoof kicking at the prodding of some dream.

“I will do this.” Jardin said, and the nervousness melted away.

Author's Note

So starts the second book.

I know I said I'd never do another song... And... yeah... I am still terrible at them.

For those curious, Algol has Synesthesia, where she perceives sounds as colours and taste as sounds. I thought it added to her and made her more distinct as compared to the version given by Velvet in Queen in Stone, for those that have read that story. She was just a bit too generic otherwise.

Book Two: Chapter One: The Brief Calm

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duties and Dreams
Chapter One: The Brief Calm

It is a universal truth that the death of anyone young and filled with the vibrancy of life is especially hard on those left behind.

Rarity’s death, and subsequent funeral, in particular, caused an entire nation to mourn. In the days that followed the Element of Generosity’s sacrifice, the papers ran article after article listing her many accomplishments. The precise nature of her death was widely speculated upon. Few could accept the official story of a sudden, swift illness claiming the hero. How could a pony who’d faced the god of chaos, invading armies, and single-hoofed driven off a clan of Diamond Dogs suffered so mundane a fate? The more suspicious elements went so far as to claim a cover-up, that Rarity had died on some clandestine mission for the crown.

These theories never gained much traction, and by the time she was laid to rest, only the most suspicious or cynical of ponies continued to make such claims.

The funeral was held in the traditional unicorn manner on the sunny morning of the first of May.

Blossoms from the nearby orchards danced over the hills in soft pink swirls, teasing the mourners with how beautiful a day they’d been granted for such a somber occasion. Acting early, the weather team had made certain the skies would be clear of any obstructions or blemishes that rolled off the Everfree Forest.

Almost everypony in Ponyville were gathered in the fields near the library to pay their respects. Ordinarily, the wake would have taken place in the town’s temple, but Ponyville possessed none. Since the graveyard was too small to handle so many mourners, they’d had no choice but to move it to the fields nearby. Between the pavilions and banners erected to support such a large number of ponies, it was easy to mistake the gathering for that of a fair. All of Ponyville’s most prominent were in attendance, from the Mayor to fellow members of the local business council and her many, many friends. Others came from further afield too, traveling from Manehatten, Bolton, Canterlot, and all points in between. There was even a contingent from Vanhoover. Ponies from the world of couture fashion mingled among farmers and nobles leaned against local labourers with the dress uniforms of military officers from the Royal Guard and Navy sprinkled throughout.

The officers in particular caused a low hum of conversation. Everypony in town knew Rarity as an exceptional and dedicated dressmaker, but none had suspected her ties to the military.

“What would they have made of this?” Magnum mumbled to himself, head turning a little to the conspicuously empty place beside him where Bonnie should have been.

He’d been the one to make use of the curulícum Rarity used to send letters to her mother to inform Bonnie of all that had transpired. Thousands of miles away, off the coast of Trotugal, Bonnie mourned in her own way; by getting hooves over head drunk and shouting obscenities at her crew. At night, as the bottle of rum was emptied, she’d slink into the cabin and send a small letter through the enchanted flames of the exorbitantly expensive candles.

Magnum nodded as First Sea Lord Jib Sail moved along the line to give condolences.

“A great tragedy, and all Equestria grieves with you, miss Belle,” Jib Sail said a little stiffly on reaching Sweetie.

She returned his words with a mute nod.

The ancient mariner then moved off to join Lady High Admiral Melee Lulamoon, who conversed in a somber tone with the High Arbiter of Celestia’s Judicators and the Commandant General of the Cloud Conclave.

In the week since Rarity sacrificed herself to stop Serene, Sweetie had not spoken a word. She’d locked herself in her sister’s home and sat staring at the photos of her and Rarity. Pictures, in grainy black and white, or touched up with a painter’s brush. Pictures of them at the Sisterhooves Social, sitting at a cafe sharing a milkshake, or Luna’s first Nightmare Night in Ponyville. Rarity had fussed endlessly over her costume that year and missed all the fun with Princess Luna. The one that drew Sweetie’s attention most, however, was one of the oldest.

Corners faded, Rarity sat on a cushion next to a bassinette. She was no more than a little filly, cherubic white with her mane seeming black in the old style photo. Time and the sun left once crisp contrasts blurred, and the edges were almost lost in a hazy grey. But the little bundle in Rarity’s hooves was easy to identify. It was the oldest picture of Sweetie, taken shortly after she’d been born.

Fresh tears prickled underneath her eyes, and she scrubbed them away with a furious swipe and sniff.

“Here, deary, take this,” the next pony in line said, offering a folded kerchief out for Sweetie.

She didn’t say thank you, only looked up and found herself in the shadow of Fancy Pants. Tears rimmed his own puffy, red eyes, and his mustache quivered with barely suppressed emotion. Her mouth opened to say something as she returned the kerchief, but no words came, and she slowly slid it shut again.

“I understand, I understand,” Fancy leaned down and wrapped a hoof around Sweetie to bring her into a soft hug. “You need not say anything until you’re ready.”

He broke the hug after giving her a final, comforting squeeze and moved off to join the others.

Sweetie stared after Fancy Pants, and didn’t hear or see the next several ponies that spoke to her.

Thought slipped away, falling deeper and deeper into her melancholy. Her every aspect spoke volumes of the grief tearing her young, innocent heart asunder. On that day, such a beautiful blue to any other eye, all the disc was grey, dull, and empty.

Sweetie frown only grew, a line of carriages pulled by members of the Royal Guard rolling along the lane.

Her jaw tightened as the doors to the trio of carriages were opened. Celestia and Luna descended from the first carriage; their heads held high, but their normal smiles gone. Both wore a wreath of white lilies in place of their usual tiaras. They were followed by Cadence, Shining Armour, and Tyr from the second carriage. As with the elder princesses, Cadence and Tyr also wore lilies. Sweetie narrowed her eyes a little at Tyr, then widened at the sight of the filly’s restored wings. A tight knot of rage twisted her guts at Tyr’s presence. Why, she screamed in silence, was she even allowed to show her face when she was the one who’d brought all the recent troubles down on Equestria. The rage only grew, then fell into a cold nothingness as Iridia, Twilight, and Fluttershy descended from the final carriage.

Fluttershy was the last to emerge, her head held low and uncertain, brilliant teal eyes shifting from side-to-side, searching for someplace to dart and hide. A futile desire, as all attention was fixed on the royal entourage and drawn to her stunning beauty. Petals fell in floating waves from mane and tail alike, so they filled her wake in dancing splashes of red, pink, white, yellow, and blue. Even they could not steal attention away from the spiral horn peaking out from her mane, try as Fluttershy might to hide it beneath a hat.

The princesses and queen gave their condolences to Magnum and Sweetie, and then went to stand on the other side of the funerary scaffolding that would become Rarity’s pyre.

Twilight lingered longest. The princess’ eyes were red and puffy, and she tried to speak several times before her words finally came.

“Sweetie… I am so, so sorry. This is my fault.” Twilight sniffed, but no tears fell from her eyes. “If I hadn’t left when I did, if I’d been here for you both, I could have, no would have, saved her.”

Still, Sweetie could not say anything. She could not even give a smile or frown, only drop her gaze to the space between her hooves.

Twilight was wrong. It wasn’t her fault. It couldn’t be her fault. She didn’t bring the shades to Equestria. She didn’t protect them with silence. She didn’t survive.

Sweetie glanced up as Fluttershy took the spot Twilight vacated, the Taigan princess lead to the others by her mother’s wing.

“Sweetie.” Fluttershy’s voice was soft as it had ever been, but held a far greater force since her ascension. Rather than words, Fluttershy attempted to give Sweetie a hug. A hissed intake of breath, sharp recoil, and furious glare halted her attempt. After a few moments lingering in silence, Fluttershy retreated with a soft, “I understand,” and went to join all the other alicorns.

Nostrils flaring, Sweetie turned and marched away. She could not be there any longer. She could not bear a moment more in her presence.

Her departure did not go unnoticed, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo slipping away from their families to follow. They caught up to Sweetie just as she reached Rarity’s shop.

“Ain’t you going to stay for Princess Celestia’s eulogy?” Apple Bloom asked, coming up to lay a comforting hoof on Sweetie’s shoulder.

Sweetie just shook her head and shoved her way inside. The showroom was half packed and filled with boxes all sorted by destination. Some articles were destined for storage, while others had been set aside by Magnum to be donated to charity, or earmarked for rich collectors willing to pay a high premium for a bauble once belonging to Equestria’s hero. Yesterday, a similar box with an odd smattering of Rarity’s possessions had been sent to Notre-Dame de la Chanson. Rarity’s old, worn scissors, the first gem she’d found, a lock of hair taken from her tail. Within the temple’s vaults they’d be placed as holy relics.

Snorting, Sweetie began to put everything back where it belonged. Her friends, thankfully, didn’t protest and instead set about helping.

An almost comfortable silence settled on the trio as the worked, rehanging pictures, laying the last dress Rarity had made out on a mannequin, and others on the racks or displays. Sol moved by small degrees from one set of windows to the next, and the day began to close.

Just as supper time approached, there came a knock at the door. With a look Sweetie told her friends not to answer. Stock still the trio stood, staring at the doorknob in silent anticipation.

“Girls?” Twilight asked, her voice drifting through the window. A twist, the chime of the doorbells, and the princess stood illuminated in the doorway. Behind her, peeking around the corner, Fluttershy could just be seen along with a small contingent of guards in the street. “How are you doing?” Twilight asked, stepping inside, closely followed by Fluttershy.

“We’re okay, honest,” Apple Bloom indicated Scootaloo with a tilt of her head, who just gave a grim nod in return.

“Sweetie?” The question came from Fluttershy, so soft as to almost be lost in the silence that gripped the shop.

Rigid with furious loathing, Sweetie didn’t so much as look in Fluttershy’s direction, shoving a photo album stuffed with dress examples back onto a shelf.

“It’s okay to be mad.” Twilight came up to Sweetie, steps silent, and extended a wing. Her touch was ghostly, tingling through Sweetie’s coat.

A projection, Twilight hadn’t left the Bellerophon. The attempt Sweetie made to throw off Twilight’s wing was futile, passing through the princess’ illusionary body. Her rage spiking deeper into her chest, Sweetie snapped, “Leave me alone.”

“You’re hurting,” Twilight stated, but didn’t try to follow Sweetie as she backed away. Instead, her large, lavender eyes offered her deepest sympathies as she said, “And it’s my fault.”

“Your fault? No,” Sweetie growled, then thrust a hoof at Fluttershy. “It’s hers! She killed my sister. Rarity is dead because of her!”

“Sweetie, you know that isn’t true.” Now, Twilight did approach Sweetie again. “Fluttershy is as much a victim as Rarity. And how can Tyr be considered to have had any part in what happened?”

Twilight failed to notice the grimace that twisted Fluttershy’s face, but Sweetie didn’t. Scrunching up her eyes with incredulation, Sweetie stood rigid as she shot back, “That crazy filly brought those spirit-shade-things here! One of them attacked you, remember? And Fluttershy threw Rarity off the cliff! She killed my sister!”

At this declaration, tears began to stream down Sweetie’s cheeks, and she was wrapped in the embrace of her friends. She refused to sob. But, the tears could not be contained.

Sharing concerned looks, Twilight and Fluttershy were at a loss as to how to help.

Listening from the other side of the door, Celestia turned to Magnum, “Mr. Belle, I think it might be best if you and Sweetie come to Canterlot for a little while. A change of environment will be good for Sweetie. As it would for every pony else. Arrangements have already been made for the Apple sisters to spend time at the palace. If Scootaloo comes, Sweetie will have the support of all those who love her, with none of the terrible reminders.”

If Magnum ever thought to argue with the princess, his concerns were not aired. Truthfully, it struck him as an excellent idea, and after bowing he gave unconditional agreement to Celestia’s suggestion.

In the valley below, winter was all but forgotten beneath the growing balm of early May. Not so up in Canterlot. Despite the rapid approach of summer, a cool mountain wind fell from the Canterhorn down into the streets of Canterlot’s Western District. Confined within those narrow alleys and avenues, it picked up speed, ruffling Applejack’s loose golden mane as it howled by on its journey towards the city’s edge and spilled into the valley below. She hitched her light jacket up a little further to ward off the chill, and stepped out from the crowd of similarly dressed ponies.

Wide steps rose beneath her hooves leading towards the entrance to Notre-Dame de la Chanson, or, in the Equestrian tongue, Our Lady of Song.

She was the oldest building in the entire city. Older than the university, older than the city, older than even Canterlot Castle built following the War of the Sun and Moon. Half the temple thrust out onto a natural ledge while the remainder was sunk into the mountain itself using a combination of natural caverns and carved chambers. A terrace extended from the ledge, giving the city its distinctive look hanging over the Equis Valley.

On Sundays, the entire temple would fill with the faithful and resonate with their song until the heavenly sound flowed out into the city and the valley below, for which Notre-Dame de la Chanson was given her name.

Applejack slowed to take in the broad face of the temple, the one hundred and one etched carvings of ponies going about the daily life of Equestria at the time of the temple's construction. Most of the acts were simple, from washing clothes in tubs to tilling fields with simple hoes. Surrounded by the smaller reliefs stood six rearing representations of the Saints of Harmony, one each on either side of the great, iron banded solid oak doors. Passing through the Earth door, Applejack said a silent prayer to Saint Cookie before she stepped into the entrance to the grand chapel.

Above the central, Unicorn door, a great rose window let the light of the noon sun into the heart of the temple. Each pane of glass, stained wonderful blues, rich purples, or vibrant reds, showed the scenes of Hearth's Warming, from the exodus out of the Old Queendoms, to the trials of the three tribes, the Earth Ponies and Unicorns in their ancient ships and the Pegasi dragging their ancestral cities, to the banishment of the Windigos by the Saints, ending with the spread of the message of Harmony to the newly united ponies.

Slowing her strong stride, Applejack found herself confronted by the statue of the sisters. In marble painted by the light cast by the North Rosette, Faust and Iridia stood entwined, frozen in the act of dancing around the other. For the longest time, Faust had stood alone on the raised platform, as she did in every temple across Equestria and the Old Queendoms. How the priestesses had replaced the previous statue stymied Applejack.

Unicorn magic, no doubt.

She shook her head at the change. There’d been too many in recent years.

Before she could begin to move, her eyes were drawn from the statues to the ceiling. Painted frescos taken from the holy books of Names, Sol, and Selene covered the entire surface. It was here, in this singular sanctuary, where Celestia the Goddess took precedence over Celestia the Princess.

Portrayed as a young maiden, her mane a fluffy candy-pink, Celestia played in green fields with several foals. Much of the scene couldn't be seen for the scaffolding reaching up towards it as skilled experts performed the necessary acts of maintaining the frescos. If not for the repair work, two additional dark toned fillies would have been visible chasing after Celestia.

The images merged into those of Celestia as she looked during the war against Nightmare Moon. Her mane and tail raging infernos of flame licking the air and eyes burning embers of barely restrained vengeance, she was an avatar of power, unfettered and raw. Coronal Edge at her side, she cleaved through a nameless black mass of shadow as fire poured from her horn.

Midnight blues swirled around Celestia's white coat with a moon half hidden by the Mare-in-the-Moon in the next fresco. A tear clung to Celestia's cheek as she gazed up to the moon, a song clear upon her lips, as she mourned the war, and the loss of her sister. She was joined by Cadence, the Goddess of Love stern faced, and refusing to gaze up at the night. Around them Equestria mourned, heads bowed low.

The final fresco was the founding of Canterlot, and Celestia as its protector. Sheltered beneath her wings were ponies, all reaching up towards the goddess. Through a break in painted clouds shone a beam of sunlight, the golden pillar pointing the way towards the Canterhorn, the mountain devoid of the city.

Applejack wondered at the authenticity of the scenes. All the stories she’d learned as a little filly were changing. First Luna’s return, and the re-introduction of the Book of Selene. The tales contained within that book… A shudder ran up her spine. Now, Iridia had re-appeared, and just like her niece, not as the monster that formed the core of so many cautionary tales. Twilight possessed the original Book of Spring, but would it too see wider distribution? What portions of history had Princess Celestia twisted and distorted to protect her herd’s perfect image? In the harsh light of truth, what would be revealed?

Snorting, Applejack dropped her gaze from the ceiling and started ahead, passing a series of alcoves along the nave. Here stood statues to the remaining alicorns, each painted with such life-like precision it seemed they would step off their plinth at any moment. Before each statue was a low, plush bench on which to kneel while praying and a little area for offerings to be made. Dozens of candles flickered, inset into the polished granite wall. Behind the statue reared a tall window of stained glass facing towards the west.

Here again Applejack was confronted with change. Celestia, Luna, and Cadence were familiar, and Twilight’s statue expected. The statue of Tyr, however, came as a surprise. But, it was the statue of another, unknown dark-coated filly beside Twilight that pulled at Applejack, altering her course down the center of the nave to the alcove.

The statue had not been present at the elaborate funeral held just a week prior, when the ‘relics’ belonging to Rarity had been sent down into the vaults, and an empty casket placed in the crypts. Or, maybe she just hadn’t noticed. Everything about the two funerals were a blur.

“The Dreamwalker,” spoke somepony at Applejack’s shoulder, making her jump.

Biting back a sharp retort, she turned to find a stout unicorn mare gazing up at the statue. Her bouncy brown mane was held in a gold and emerald shawl that flowed down to her withers. Her large hoop earings showed her to be a mare of some wealth, while her face had the weathered, serious look of a pony that spent a life well lived in the sun.

“Alanotte,” the mare introduced herself with a stiff nod, Applejack responding in kind.

“Is she one of them that fell with Tyr?” Applejack jerked her head towards the statue.

“Fell? Oh, no. She is a legend in Old Queendoms.” Alanotte came up to stare at the statue. “The Springbringer’s first daughter. Saint Clover was tricked into helping a terrible pony steal her immortality. It cost Clover her sight. The story says, as she’d been blind to his intentions, she became blind to the disc. A lesson on the dangers of Pride. Too much of it in that era, and it cost the disc gravely. I did not expect the sisterhood of Equestria to put her statue out.”

“Twilight has an older sister?” Applejack tilted back her hat and took in the statue a little more, noticing details she’d missed before, like how similar the eyes were to Twilight’s, or the spiral of her horn. “Ain’t no stories of her out here.”

“If the stories can be believed, it would be a difficult subject for Celestia and Luna.” Alanotte shrugged. “And the princess has a habit of hiding that which causes her pain, rather than confront it in the open.”

“Now, ain’t that the truth.” A low, disappointed chuckle worked it’s way from Applejack. “How do you know so much about this?”

“Well, as its keeper, I studied the Book of Spring until I could recite its passages from memory. The book covers only the first thousand years, and isn’t concerned with history but parables and lessons. Some practical magic too. It gave me a hunger to know more of the old stories, so I sought them out. Celestia could not wipe all knowledge that she deemed troublesome away in the Old Queendoms as she did here in Equestria.” Alanotte wore a motherly smile, and there was little disapproval in her tone.

“Hmm,” Applejack didn’t try to hide her growing frustration. Her mane prickled with a rising heat, and a bitterness coiled across the back of her tongue.

“I am happy to get to speak with you, Lady Apple,” Alanotte continued.

The heat flared a little higher, and Applejack snapped, “Ma’am, please don’t call me that. I ain’t no ‘lady’.”

Alanotte’s smile didn’t waver, little offense showing on her face. “If that is what you want.”

Applejack wasn’t surprised when she was followed from the statue.

“Equestria is so different from what we hear in Zbori.” A pause, one intended for Applejack to ask some follow-up that she refused to voice. When it didn’t come, Alanotte continued regardless. “We do not do the rite of Names as you do,” she indicated with a nod where a group of priestesses were tending to the main altar.

Situated at the far end of the apse, flanked by stands for the choir on one side and an old brass organ on the other, tubes snaking up the walls, the altar was being attended by a few sisters under the direction of a mother. Soon, mares from the surrounding countryside would flock to the temples to participate in the ritual in which they’d learn the names of their unborn foals. While most villages had at least a shrine to the Namegiver, few had a proper temple. Even Ponyville lacked such a place of worship.

A little smile crept at the corner of her mouth as Applejack thought back to when she’d gone with her mother for Apple Bloom’s naming. They’d taken a train to Manehatten and visited one of the many temples the city boasted, spending a few days with her cousins in the Orange clan.

It was one of the last memories she had of her mother.

“What’s so different about how we do things?” There was just the slight hint of reproach in Applejack’s tone. “We’ve done things the same as always, far as I know.”

“In Zbori and Elesia it is not done in the temples, but the fields outside. And all at once. Hundreds, or even thousands of mares, all sharing the same experience of hearing Her voice whisper the little ones’ names.” Alanotte grinned, and Applejack found herself liking the gypsy, her anger giving way at last to something softer. It was a little bit like she were looking through Granny Smith’s stories to her ancestors when they’d wandered across the Heartlands.

“So, what are you doing here?” Applejack asked, turning down the transept towards a private side door that lead to the reliquaries and crypt.

“Sight seeing, I believe you call it.” A long laugh broke from Alanotte. “I have little to do. My daughters, sons, nieces, and nephews are all training with the Nightguard. They try hard to be ready to serve the Nightwatcher when she returns. An old dame like me? My time has come and gone. I performed the task appointed by the gods and brought the Nightwatcher the Book of Spring. All I have left is to pass what I know to my apprentice. What of you? What brings you here?” She waved her hoof around the main nave, with its benches capable of holding thousands of ponies.

Applejack stopped at the small, plain door. She wondered what she was doing as well. It wasn’t like Rarity was buried in her tomb. After Serene’s destruction nothing had remained, not even ash and dust. Even if the casket weren’t empty, Rarity would have long since crossed the rivers of the dead to Elysium.

Tears prickled her cheeks, then ran freely in thick rivulets that left her fur matted as a heavy sob broke from Applejack. The crying came as a shock, as she was far more angry than saddened by Rarity’s death. Her loss was wrong and unjust. Serene stole Rarity from everypony, leaving a gaping wound behind. None had been hurt more than Sweetie Belle, and it filled Applejack with so much anger.

Yet, here she was, sobbing like one of those flighty, dainty nobles she disdained so much.

A hoof wrapped around her shoulder and before Applejack could offer protest, she was brought against Alanotte’s neck. Warm, spicy scents crawled up her nose, and the gypsy matron’s mane tickled her face. There was strength too. Despite being older, though not old, a long life of moving from town to town had left her strong and sinewy beneath her coat. For a fleeting moment, Applejack thought about her mother.

“Thanks,” Applejack sniffed and rubbed her eyes clear as the tears subsided.

“It is alright. My daughter was a cryer too when she was pregnant.”

With a searing flash, the anger took hold again.

“I ain’t pregnant!” She snapped, pushing herself away.

“Oh, child, I know a pregnant mare when I see one.” Alanotte half turned to show her cutie mark, a large foal rattle sitting in a bassinette. “I have been a midwife since I was nay higher than my mother’s knees. In all those years I’ve learned that looks can deceive, and moods are shifty things regardless, but the flow of a mare’s magic is always correct; and your magic is flowing to your baby.” She leveled a hoof at Applejack’s ever-so-slightly growing sides.

“But, I weren’t with no stallion this season,” she growled, hackles raising further.

“That doesn’t always matter. I’ve known mares get pregnant over a month before and after the season.” A hoof came forward to pat Applejack on the withers then stroke her mane. “It is alright, child. You must have already known.”

Did I? Applejack asked herself.

With everything else that had happened, she’d hardly considered the season at all. Had there been any of the usual symptoms? The heat and itching. The primal thoughts and desires. She couldn’t recall. Her heat cycle never was all that strong, and with work, she’d always had a distraction. Something else on which to focus so that it was little more than a slight annoyance crawling across the back of her neck.

Sitting down with a heavy thump, she gazed down at her fuller waist and belly.

The rich, creamy foods served in the palace could not explain her weight gain, nor the odd cravings that had been growing in regularity.

A whisper could have knocked her flat in that instant as so many little things all fell into place.

“I’m pregnant?” The words tickled across her tongue as if they were from some foreign place. She gasped, hiccuped, covered her mouth, and then in a stronger voice through a growing grin, said, “I’m pregnant.”

And then, the fears came crashing down around her withers like boulders in a landslide. She’d never even talked about foals with Soarin. He was so intent on his career, and she had the farm to run. Did he even want to have foals? And, Granny Smith! Granny Smith was going to be so disappointed. She always said to find a good stallion and settle down, and then have the foals. Not the other way around.

Tears of joy and sadness threatened to spring anew, her throat tensed, and her head spun with conflicting emotions. She tried to shake away the twisting cloud, find a point of stability on which to rest, but all she could think about was the foal inside her, and what it meant.

The disc welcomed Fleur with howlings winds, groaning wood, and water dripping onto her nose where it had wormed through the Bellerophon’s overworked sides. Blind panic gripped her throat, and she reached for her husband in reflex, seeking the comfort of his warmth and strong legs.

He was not there, of course, back as he was in Canterlot so far away. All she found was dank, musty air through which to flail her hooves as her cot swung on the upwards roll of the ship. The roll proved unfortunate, tossing Fleur onto the floor of the cupboard sized cabin. On the way her chin struck the narrow desk with a sharp crack. Spots burst in front of her still sleep blind eyes, pain flaring through her jaw.

Groaning, Fleur didn’t move from the damp wood decking until only a dull ache resided in her jaw. Running her tongue along her teeth, she was surprised to have avoided chipping or dislodging any. Or biting her tongue.

Stepping out of the cabin, she was almost tossed against the wall by another lurch and shudder that worked it’s way through the ship. Taking extra care, hooves spread wide, Fleur at last managed to make her way aft towards the princess’ cabin.

After knocking, and a thin, reedy voice answering, she stumbled her way through the door.

The grand cabin was far more cramped than Fleur remembered. A second, large bed sat snug above a cannon on the port side, a twin to the original Twilight used. Magical lights glowed along the beams, casting a steady, yellowish-pink light that gave everything a jaundiced look.

Around a long table sat Princess Twilight with her friends, as well as her guards. It was the pony at the far end of the table to really drew Fleur’s attention.

Fleur never imagined she’d see Faust Invictus, the fabled Queen of All Ponies, outside of a painting. She was… smaller than Fleur expected, only a little taller than Twilight. Where as Twilight was still growing into her new position as the Goddess of the Stars, Faust had no such advantage.

Her dark, ruddy red mane was slicked to one side, the ends curling up in a tight bounce, showing off the sleek lines of her neck. There wasn’t the peytral omnipresent in artwork and busts of the queen, nor was there even a crown. Yet, no pony would deny at a glance that this pony stood above all others. Jewels were unneeded when her eyes shone so bright, like a pair of the most brilliant blue diamonds.

It took somepony clearing their throat for Fleur to realise she was staring.

“You’re awake!” Twilight motioned for Fleur to find a seat at the table. “We were just talking about...” Fleur tilted her head as Twilight’s voice trailed away. The princess twitched, a scowl briefly appeared, and then shifted to a forced smile. “Things. About things like, um, Zebrica.”

Head resting on a hoof, Rainbow snorted and rolled her eyes. “You really are a horrible liar, Twi.”

Uncertain, Fleur hovered for a moment longer, just enough time for the ship to give another lurch and almost launch her onto the table. Several telekinetic auras flashed around the table, grabbing a hold of Fleur and various cups, plates, and a game of Stones set between Twilight and Faust.

“Can’t you do anything about this weather?” Rainbow complained as everything was settled back in place.

“We told you we can’t.” Twilight snapped back, ears flicking into a flat line. She quickly looked away, out the broad, black windows that ran the breadth of the ship’s stern. “Well, yes, we could, but it will have consequences elsewhere. It’s like—”

“Butterflies flapping their wings. I know. You’ve used that analogy a dozen times today.” Rainbow rubbed her temple with a hoof and leaned back against the wall.

“It’s a simile,” Twilight quickly corrected, then her attention went back to Fleur. “You better sit down.”

Pinkie scooted a little tighter against an already squished Rainbow Dash, waving a pink hoof at the open spot at the table. It was a tight fit, with so many bodies pressed up against each other or wedged against the wall so not to be tossed about.

Not looking up from the stones board, Faust said, “We were beginning to fear there’d been a miscalculation. But you seem to have weathered your own, personal storm at last.” Her voice was every bit the match of her stately air. It was obvious where Celestia had come by her royal demeanor and presence, and Fleur couldn’t help but be enthralled.

“Uh, Oui, Your Majesty.” There was no room to bow at the table, so Fleur settled in a deep nod instead. “I am uncertain what happened. I remember being on the island, fighting the golems, ponies screaming, retreating towards the beach, the stench of mud, silt, and drying seaweed… then nothing. We won, I see, but, how?” She shook her head sadly.

“Well, after I woke Faust, Leviathan took my eye,” Pinkie let out one of her a jovial grins, split by a happy giggle, and pointed to her eyepatch, with its gold embroidered skull and crossbones. “Faust and Twilight cast a spell to put the big meanie to sleep and keep her locked up for the next really, really, really long time, then we came whooshing up to find the island sinking and everypony leaping into the boats to get back to the ship with you and Rainbow all tired and bruised from fighting a different big-bad that almost—”

It was at this point Rainbow shoved her hoof into Pinkie’s mouth, ending the tumble of words before they could grow to a truly prodigious length.

“I used that spear you summoned to defeat that three-legged demon.” Rainbow flashed a cocksure grin. “He did something to you. Looked like he was draining your magic, or something. You feeling alright?”

Fleur just shook her head, at a loss to comprehend the stories.

Was she alright? Now that the confusion of waking from a deep slumber had passed nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There were a few little pinches and aches in her back and legs, nothing a long massage couldn’t remedy, however. If she’d been anywhere near her regular masseuse. Quickly, she closed her eyes and ran an imaginary hoof over her magical reservoir. Here too things were normal, her magic a calm silver lake. Far larger than it’d been before all the craziness of Athena, and being host to the shade of a goddess, but placid once more, rather than tossing and in turmoil.

And then it hit her; silence. No distinct hum at the back of her head. No continual shifting tides of anxiety, despair, and anger. No voice. No presence slinking along the contours of thought and memory. Only an emptiness.

Athena was gone.

Shooting from her spot, Fleur took to pacing, her thoughts too quick and wild. She needed to move, body filled with a sudden energy. Electric jolts rippled down her legs. Tail snapped and whipped. And her breaths came in quick, staccato gasps through mouth and nose.

Was the goddess really gone? She needed to make certain. Holding her breath, she prodded the recesses of her mind where Athena liked to lurk.

Silence.

And Power.

Fleur almost tripped, though not by any machination of the Bellerophon and the storm. Her magic responded to her inquiries in a surging tidal flow. Over imaginary banks it gushed to reach her, eager to be formed and shaped in whatever ways she required. Whether a simple extension of her will in the form of an aura, or a true spell, her magic yearned to serve. It filled her gut, heart, and head with a shimmering song, and then stopped, waiting like a well-trained dog would the command of its master. The image expanded, solidified, the dog taking shape and gaining colour until it were a great, white mastiff, huge in the head and shoulders, but with calm, discerning eyes.

She’d never tried to picture her magic as an animal before. If she had, it wouldn’t have been some war-hound, but a little, sweet papillon like the one her father had kept as a companion. Yet, this felt right, like there could have been no other expression to her magic.

As unbidden as the mental image came, it vanished. Her magic quieted, dormant once more, yet always at the ready.

“Fleur?” Twilight’s voice drifted across the great cabin.

Shaking off the thoughts, Fleur gave the princess a poised smile, and said, “I am, how you say, fine. Je suis mieux que bien. Athena… I can’t hear her anymore.”

Twilight and Rainbow shared surprised looks, while Faust merely stared her flat, porcellian stare. Every bit the equal to Celestia, Faust was utterly unreadable. A slight tremor trickled down Fleur’s back. There was something to Faust’s gaze, but what, Fleur could not place.

It was Pinkie who spoke first. “That’s so sad,” she said, vanishing from her place between Rainbow and the guards and appearing next to Fleur. Hooves wrapped themselves about Fleur’s neck, and a face buried itself into her mane. “She was one of the nicer ponies from Gaea. She meant well, even if she made a big, bad mistake and hurt you.”

Pinkie squeezed Fleur tightly, and refused to let go.

Rigid, and uncertain what to say, Fleur looked to Twilight and Rainbow for help.

They merely shrugged in return.

“Uh, merci.” The thanks were mechanical. Rote. Lacking anything beyond the slight discomfort crawling over Fleur’s coat at the contact. She was relieved when Pinkie was plucked up by Twilight and floated back to her spot at the table. In an attempt to brush past the topic, Fleur sat back down as she asked, “What of everypony else? Did the good marine captain manage to get the crew to safety? How— How many did we lose?”

An icy veil fell across the cabin. Rainbow’s ears dropped. Pinkie’s mane lost what little bounce it had retained. Tears unable to be shed welled in Twilight’s eyes. And shame weighed heavily on the four guards wedged silently together at the far end of the table.

Realization dawned at once, and Fleur gave a soft, “Oh, mon dieux,” and covered her mouth in shock.

A heavy weight crashed down on Fleur’s heart. She’d liked the stuffy marine captain from the few little interactions they’d shared. Walls of station and protocol had prevented her from really getting to know him, or any of the officers on board. Twilight and her group were separated from everypony else, even though they were so close to one another physically.

Only the doctor seemed able to bridge the divides, and this by his peculiar combination of being not only a gentlestallion, a medico, but also a level of societal ignorance that both fascinated and, at times, appalled Fleur.

As if he were privy to her thoughts, the cabin door was pushed open and the good doctor stumbled into the great cabin. At his side came his tiny assistant, a filly rarely seen outside the medical bay, her nose usually pressed into one of her master’s books when she weren’t helping tend to the invalids.

“Madam, there you are!” he cried out at once, piercing Fleur with his watery, grey gaze. With him came the captain’s steward carrying a tray of cold mash and coffee. “Set it down on the table there, Barrel,” he said to the cantankerous old steward, indicating a free corner. Ignoring the stewards profanity filled mutterings as she set the tray down, he fixed everypony with his gaze. “Come now, not this again. It is of paramount importance none of you dwell on things. The mind is an amazing organ. Its propensity for self-destruction equalled only in its capacity to sustain and rejuvenate. Lady Belle would not wish you to wither away in mourning. What is it you say all the time, Lady Pie? Smile, smile, smile?”

The cold weight in Fleur’s heart only grew, a terrified quaver in her’s voice as she turned to Twilight. “What does he… speak?” Fleur’s Equestrian faltering in the flurry of building dread.

Twilight bit her lower lip and looked away, tears growing, but not spilling. Her own voice trembling, Twilight said, “She died protecting Sweetie, Applejack, and Fluttershy.”

“No, she did not.” Faust interjected with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “I still see her thread bound to your own. It is surrounded by darkness, and it frays and shifts whenever I try to peer at its strands, but, it is not yet broken. Rarity is alive. I keep telling you this.”

“And I was there when she was buried!” Twilight snapped back, her mane crackling at the edges with a cold fire.

“A useless gesture,” Faust shrugged.

The ship lurched, kicked by a particularly strong wave.

Twilight let out a throaty growl, turned her gaze out the stern windows, and shot a bolt of magic into the churning ocean.

Almost at once the storm began to lesson, the seas calmed, and a sliver of sunlight peaked through a crack in the clouds.

“Well, that was unnecessary.” Faust gave a disapproving click of her tongue. “Acting out will solve nothing. My little Tia taught you this, Twilight. Now, some poor village on the isle of Stall is going to have four days of horrific weather, instead of just one. A mother and her filly will drown, and a father of four crushed by a tree. You are a goddess. Every action has repercussions.”

Twilight stared, aghast, her mouth working slowly, but no words coming forth.

Brushing past Twilight, and making for the door, Faust said, “Do not worry. I will clean up your mess. But learn from this. We must take great care when and how we exercise our powers. We can’t ‘act out’, as you say in this age.”

Then the Queen of All Ponies was out the door. A moment later a flash of potent magic struck Fleur’s senses as Faust teleported away.

Between Roam and Thul, at the southern end of the Thulean Sea, where it meets the greater Mareteranian, lay a series of dividing islands. Of these islands, only one was devoid of any sort of habitation, or even life. Rocky and bare of even weeds or a blade of grass, the place reeked of unnatural energies, all emanating from the solitary edifice at its precise center.

There stood the Golden Gate. A device more ancient and less understood than any other on Ioka’s disc. Many had attempted over the years to pry open the gate and discern the secrets it contained. Their bodies lay twisted and abandoned among the scraps of their camps.

Spectres and ghouls roamed the island underneath cover of the night, their twisted, malformed shapes acting as sentinels. Unable to find their way to the banks of the five rivers that carried the souls of the dead to Tartarus, they were forever trapped, and loathed all living things. In times past, necromancers and other foul practitioners of magic had come to the island in attempts to command the ghosts, only to join the dead.

Heedless of the danger and the lessons of their predecessors, adventurers still returned, each certain that they would be the ones to crack the mysteries of the gate.

Just such an expedition had set ashore at the first crack of dawn’s light. Their ship, the Crawler, a fleet winged forty-two gun frigate, rolled at anchor on the unsteady currents that surrounded the island. Battle scars marred her port bow where she’d intercepted an Equestrian merchant ship two days prior, a large gouge taken from the capstan and figurehead alike. In the brief, but bloody, battle, the Crawler had boarded the smaller, lumpish merchant, and taken from her a precious relic, and two captives; Doctor Yearling, and her friend, Dean Periwinkle.

Both of Equestria’s prestigious Honigwein College, it was the natural course of their affairs to be captured mid-point of an adventure. The two had become used to the occurrence, much like they were to having lunch at noon, or tea in the early afternoon. It was, therefore, with a level of stoic acceptance they sat in the launch as it went ashore, and were then marched to the island’s heart and to the wide dais on which the Golden Gate stood. It was equally natural that there should be a row of stakes already set into the ground, and that they should be tied to them with tight knots.

“How do I allow myself to be talked into these things?” Dean Periwinkle bemoaned, and tutted. “This is your fault, you know. Before I met you and your wife, the worst I had happen was a chipped hoof.”

“Oh, you love the adventure, Peri.” Yearling attempted to stretch her wings, but they were bound with unyielding leather straps and brass buckles. “Besides, we’ve been in far worse before.”

“Oh, yes. And that is a rather sad commentary, don’t you think, on our lives?”

“Silence,” snapped their enemy of the week, one Commodore Canard.

“We must leave this place!” Dean Periwinkle rubbed his left cannon, ears pressed flat to his head beneath his hat. “Nopony who stays the night is ever seen again.”

“Listen to him, you fools. These are forces no pony should play with,” Yearling added from the next stake over. “You have no idea what you’ll unleash!”

Spinning to thrust a hoof towards the crescent moon hovering in the west, close to her solar sister, Commodore Canard snarled. “We know precisely the forces with which we deal. The disc needs protecting from the arrogance and whims of a pair of gods that act for their own amusement. Now, tell Mrs. Do to come out of hiding, or else.”

“Oh, please. Do you know how many military leaders, cultists, and corrupt business ponies have threatened me, my wife, or our friends and colleagues?” Yearling rolled her eyes. “I think you make a second baker’s dozen.”

From the top of the ridge overlooking the Gate, Daring Do wetted her lips and planned the route of her attack. First, she’d grab the guards by the cannons and knock them unconcious. Then she’d take out the ponies setting up the tents. Slide between the large crates of gunpowder, setting a long fuse burning on the way, and conk the heads of the next two guards together. About then she’d be seen, and it’d be a running fight across the camp. The gunpowder would explode as she reached her love, and best friend, and after cutting their bonds with the small knife she kept on her for just such occasions, they’d head towards the boats in the chaos. Commodore Canard would make to intercept them, of course, and Daring would be separated from the others as she engaged in a drawn out hoof-fight with the power-crazed pony.

Plans made, she was but the beat of a hummingbird’s wings from setting them in motion, when there was the prodding of a crossbow at the back of her head.

“Ah, it’s one of those adventures,” Daring muttered to herself, and raised her hooves in surrender.

Lead down to the camp by a contingent of a good dozen rough looking stallions, Daring was in short order tied up next to her wife.

“You’re getting slow, dear,” Yearling teased. “Twenty years ago we’d have been half way back to the ship by now.”

“We’re not going to have this argument again, are we?” Daring rolled her eyes. “I’m as fit and fast as ever.”

“Mm Hm.”

“I am!”

“When we get home, we should again discuss retiring for good.”

“We don’t need to retire. There are plenty of ruins still to plumb, and many years for us to explore yet.”

“Dear, your wings pop every time you try to pull a sharp turn, and my knees aren’t what they used to be from all the jumping off collapsing bridges or over cliffs. And all this with your scarf of rejuvenation.”

“Are you two quite done?” Commodore Canard snapped, marching primly back and forth in front of his captives.

“No, but we can postpone our domestic disharmony a few minutes.” Yearling stuck out her tongue at the commodore.

Joining in, Daring attempted to make a rolling motion of her hoof, and only made the ropes binding her creak. “So, get on with your monologue. We know how you sort love these moments.”

Stopping in front of the impertinent duo, the corner of an eye twitching, Commodore Canard leaned in so close the stale whisky on his breath could be smelled. “I do not need to monologue! You will complete the ritual to open the Gate, or I will kill the good Dean, and then your wife.”

“And you complain about the princesses.” Daring grunted. “Well, I refuse to help.”

Smirking, Commodore Canard asked, “Who ever said I was speaking to you, Mrs. Do?” Then, turning to Yearling, “I’m not a patient enough stallion to wait much longer.”

Giving Daring an apologetic smile, one only her wife would notice all the little subtleties and message contained, Yearling relented. It was the same smile Daring had herself given Yearling in their very first adventure. A life-long love was forged on that smile, and the sacrifice Daring committed to save Yearling. Well, attempted to commit. Daring was all too stubborn to allow something like a crystal skull and crumbling temple to get the best of her.

Yearling gave the instructions with just enough reluctance to avoid suspicion that they were false.

After the instructions were complete, Commodore Canard made some glib, unimportant remark, and turned to perform the ritual to unseal the gate. He raised the Icon of Nimrud, recited the incantations, and waited with a stern, suspicious frown.

And, of course, nothing happened.

He spun, hoof raised to strike Yearling and demand an explanation.

The grinding of gears ancient beyond reckoning stayed his hoof, and brought every eye to the gate. Crawling blue magic covered the aurihalcum ediface, shooting small sparks across the stones towards the gathered, awestruck ponies. Dirt and dust cascaded in a choking wave, revealing ancient, black runes. Cloudless lightning cracked across the sky.

A deafening boom followed, and then, one by one, the locks clanked open. The gate swung wide to a yawning, empty mouth containing a sheet of impossible black.

Everypony present stood stock still for several moments, just staring, stunned by the gate opening.

Daring’s heart sank. How, she silently fumed, how had he managed to activate the gate? The translations of the ancient Marelantian texts had been purposefully incorrect. It was impossible Commodore Canard’s ritual could have opened the portal to the Underworld.

“I have done it!” Commodore Canard shouted in glee, throwing his hooves up into the air with a long cackle. “The power to best Celestia is mine! Ha-ha-ha! All hail the Empire of Great Hackney, and it’s new king!”

“Hail Canard! Hail Hackney!” shouted the soldiers to the clash of hooves.

No sooner had the declaration been given than the gate rippled, and from the void emerged first Zeus then Hades. The godly brothers sauntered onto the disc. Their ancient eyes swept over the scene before them, then Zeus turned to Hades.

He spoke in a rolling boom, like two storms meeting over a golden plain, in a language utterly alien and unknown to the ponies of Ioka.

Hades responded in a hissing sneer, upper lip curling as he surveyed the ponies gathered around the dias. Unlike like his grey brother, whose entire face danced with a combination of mirth and worry, there was only a cold fury behind the bright blue eyes that shone like lantern wisps in the black night of a primordial forest that was his coat. His posture was rigid and commanding, and Daring had no doubt that the pair were dangerous.

Nothing had ever stepped a hoof through the gate before. To the best of her knowledge, it’d only been opened once before by a mad cult. The same cult whose journals Yearling translated to start this latest adventure. The cult that had been destroyed by what they’d attempted to pull from Tartarus.

Something told Daring that very soon Commodore Canard would share the same fate as those ancient cultists.

Possessed by his sense of grandeur, Commodore Canard puffed out his chest and marched up the steps to meet the brothers. He grinned wide, and barked out, “So, you two are my prize? Not what I was hoping for, but a pair of bound alicorns to strike down the sisters in Equestria will suffice.”

Zeus frowned, and lightning crackled within his eyes. He spoke again, followed by a thundering laugh, and began to ignore Canard. Marching in a wide circle, he surveyed the skies, as if searching for something among their blue expanse. At last he found what he wanted, a long stretch of rainy clouds no more than a budding squall to the south of the island. Closing his eyes, Zeus fanned his wings to their full breadth and raised his face almost in prayer of the distant cloud.

Daring had to blink as the cloud began to shift, change, and grow. A fierce chorus of lightning lit the squall’s underside, and sent jets of plasma from its top. She shivered, not out of fear, but out of a sudden chill that permeated the air, whisking through the wide canyon from the open portal. The wind stank of death and things fouler than mortal minds dared to imagine.

“Cease what you are doing and listen to me. I brought you from Tartarus, I—” The remainder of Canard’s ranting ended in a strangled cry. He clutched at his throat with his hooves, eyes bulging from his head, and back legs kicking in wretched spasms. Behind Canard, the hackney soldiers took a uniform step back.

“We will not be the ones who cease doing anything,” Hades huffed, stepping over to the choking stallion.

Beside him the air swirled and from a tear in the fabric of reality appeared a tall, silvery bident. Daring recognised the weapon from the same cultist texts that had come into Yearling’s possession all those months before. Inscribed in runes in the language of the alicorns, the bident hummed with potent magic. Hades caressed his bident with a gentle aura, and with a resounding clang, brought it down beside him.

His furious gaze swept across the soldiers, driving them all to the ground. Seething disgust twisted the corners of the dark alicorn’s mouth into a grim smile. Slowly, he extended his wings and took a deep breath.

“Cover your ears,” Daring hissed out of the corner of her mouth to Yearling and Periwinkle. Neither questioned her, all of them clapping their hooves over their heads.

When he spoke, Hades words were filled with raw, primal power.

“You sought to steal into my domain? To take from the land of the dead? How foolish the ponies of Ioka must be.” As if formed from the claws of a frozen lion, Hades’ voice tore through the soldiers. No response was intended to be received. This was about domination and sending a message.

The wise did not toy with powers beyond their ken.

Screams ripped from the soldiers. They writhed and tore at their ears. Tears streaming down Periwinkle’s face, he collapsed against his bonds, while Yearling and Daring were forced to grind their teeth and bit their tongues to hold back pained howls.

“If it was admittance to Tartarus you desired, you needed but ask,” Hades purred the poisoned words and marched among the dying ponies. He stopped at the edge of the dias, and turned towards where Daring, Yearling, and Periwinkle were bound. He continued to stand there staring at them until the soldiers all ceased their struggles, and lay dead.

Daring winced at the click of Hades’ metal shod hooves stopping just in front of her nose. He bent down, and lifted from her neck the Celestial Shawl. Around and around the golden fabric was twisted and caressed by his aura. A sniff crinkled his nose and he thrust it back across Daring’s withers.

“Who gifted you with that?” He demanded, his voice no longer carrying the deadly power used against the soldiers.

“Queen Iridia, as a gift for inspiring her daughter,” Daring answered, seeing no reason to lie.

Not when extra-planar entities had an irritating habit of; firstly, knowing when a pony was lying to their face; secondly, a tendency to get angry over even minor annoyances; and lastly, usually outright destroyed anypony they encountered that they found irksome. As the unfortunate Commodore Canard and his soldiers had just discovered. It was, therefore, prudent to not aggravate any such beings.

He considered her for a few seconds before he responded with a clipped, “Indeed? And where can I find this queen?”

Again, Daring saw little point in lying. “West, across the ocean, in Canterlot with the rest of the royal herd.”

“Ha-ha! A herd, you say?” Zeus appeared beside Hades, his grin broad and blue eyes sparkling with potential adventure. “Come, brother! Not a minute is to be wasted. There are trails to blaze, and legends to spread. The great gods Zeus and Hades have arrived. Myths tower among you, Ioka! So marvel, as we spread our names across this terra ferma. Look out, here we come! Ha-ha-ha!”

Zeus skipped across the ground between the soldiers’ bodies, tossing his mane as his laughter grew into a booming thunder that echoed up into distant storms.

Rolling his eyes, Hades trudged after his brother. If he didn’t keep an eye on Zeus, his brother was liable to break into song. Or worse. He could already hear the thunder of the storms turning into a roll of drums, and was pretty sure the wind caressing the distant waves were creating a harmony of flutes. Ah, and now Zeus had procured a guitar from one of the piles of provisions. Yes, a song was not far off at all.

Behind them they left the trio of academic adventurers tied to the stakes and staring as the first refrain of the budding music was carried across the island in a jaunty tune.

“Dear, I think this has been the strangest end to one of our little escapades yet,” Yearling said, to which Daring just nodded as the gate slammed shut with the deafening boom.

Author's Note

For the longest time I wasn't going to have the funeral. Skipping it became more and more of a headache as other sections referenced or had to hash out similar topics. To the point that the next few chapters were becoming disjointed messes. Or bigger messes. Then came the issue of whom to use as a focus. Twilight was my initial reaction, but it just felt wrong and the writing couldn't gain any traction. Fluttershy was likewise attempted, to similar results. Changing to Sweetie, despite her being a rather minor figure for the story at-large, just seemed right.

Long-time readers will probably recognise much of Notre-Dame de la Chanson's description from the original draft. It has been tidied up and modified a little, the temple and its nature expanded upon. I actually have hand-drawn floor plans now...

Daring Do's little section has been something worked upon for the better part of a year, or more. At times it was slated to be a stand-alone anthology story, others the prologue, and in the end, is where it is. Likewise, it is also a throw-back to how I used to pepper references and nods into my writing. Most are rather obvious. The whole thing is an Indiana Jones nod, naturally, but there are also Road to El Dorado references sprinkled in. Again, not at all subtle references. And, before anyone asks, Daring, Yearling, and Periwinkle survived because Hades only intended to kill those seeking to open the Gate, which they did not.

Gdocs has been really weird lately when importing. If there are any oddities with the formating, let me know, as it is a mess of italics, bolding, and centering...

Book Two: Chapter Two: Vestiges of Control

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duties and Dreams
Chapter Two: Vestiges of Control

The army was nervous.

Not the usual pre-battle jitters, but a deeper, more primal sort of anxiety clung to the neat rows of soldiers. Their necks crawled with an unnatural chill, and a few of the less resolute trembled so their knees almost knocked together. They all stood a little straighter, armour polished as if they were at an imperial inspection rather than standing in the middle of a golden field of grass, waves rippling across the surface from a hot, dry wind, awaiting the horns that would send them marching into battle.

At the very heart of the army stood the reason for their added tension; Lord Halphamet.

He was a huge, imposing zebra, broad across the withers and chest with toned flanks marked by a flaming lionspaw. Piercing blue eyes tore through anything unlucky enough to fall beneath his gaze. The tension in his strong jaw spoke his contempt more than any mere word could convey. Mane clipped into a spiky line so as to not get matted by his helmet, he cast a fierce visage on all those who looked on the lord. Confidence and cold determination oozed off the lines of his steel barding, enhanced by his every movement.

Beside the imposing lord stood his spirit-companion, Shaleh, only adding to the oppressive weight in the air. An ifrit, the spirit stood clothed in snapping flames, her body composed of shifting embers over a core of shifting lava, fissures glowing red-black, and all held in the shape of a proud lioness. A low crackling accompanied the ifrit wherever she went, along with the pungent, overpowering aroma of sulfur and burning hot sand. They all avoided the spirit’s eyes of molten gold, sweat prickling their brows and hooves trembling.

Behind Lord Halphamet, indifferent eyes fixed forward, were a dozen other Dahkrit Ifrit-Lords, each paired with a similar spirit. None of the other ifrit were as large as Shaleh, their flames pale, lesser things next to her glory. As her master was lord to the zebras, she was a noble among the ifrit, greater than her fellows and far more fearsome.

The command tent for the generals was situated a little ways in front of Halphamet, white against the yellows and browns of the plains. No movement had been seen from the tent since Halphamet and his party had been spotted marching towards the army in the morning’s early light.

Clearing his throat loudly, Halphamet waited with waning patience.

“Perhaps they do not know your magnificence has deigned to grace their presence, master?” Shaleh purred and flicked her tail, a line of scalding embers hissing into the dry grass where they began to catch until a hoof from one of the Ifrit-Lords stamped out the budding flames. Her grin was reciprocated by her fellow ifrit, all baring their fangs in anticipation of Halphamet’s ire being unleashed.

“Then they are sheer fools, in addition to incompetents,” Halphamet replied in a heavy growl.

The same moment Shaleh chuckled at her master’s growing displeasure, the flap to the tent was tossed open and five ornately armoured zebras emerged.

Bowing stiffly, a short dip of the head, no more, the generals guided one of their own forward. He glanced at his fellows sourly but squared his shoulders and took a deep breath for what was to come. “L-Lord Halphamet, this is an unexpected, but pleasant, surprise.”

“I am not here for niceties, general.” Halphamet brushed past the cringing creature to enter the tent and survey the strategy table. “Our Empress demands an accounting of why her commands have failed to be properly executed.”

“The griffons have been putting up a sterner response than anticipated, my lord,” one of the other generals said. Lord Athekra, a loyal, intelligent zebra from middling background, neither low-born nor distinguished. Perfectly unremarkable and overlooked, and in that way he’d managed to surprise his peers and earn his position. “Their harrying tactics impacted the supply trains just enough to slow our advance so they had time to fortify their positions.”

“You possess the largest army on the continent, general. Are you saying a single, tiny garrison of birds is preventing you from advancing?” Halphamet asked the question earnestly, flickering his gaze over the wincing generals.

“It is with deep regret, but yes, your lordship. We were overconfident and prideful, and slow to respond as a result.”

Halphamet nodded slowly, and then smiled. “Good, your lessons are well learned.”

The tension in the room dropped precipitously, the generals all breathing deep with relief.

His role was very simple, to make the Empress seem invincible and all-knowing. That even when plans fell apart, to make them appear as if that had always been her goal, or anticipated. The Empire survived as much on the myths surrounding her empress as it did the strength of her armies and the revenue of her soon-to-be fully renewed trade.

Twenty-one years of planning and preparation had led to this campaign, one that would determine that fate of all zebras, and perhaps the entire disc. It was unacceptable that a few inept generals would nearly bring it to disaster before the campaign had truly begun.

Clamping down on his anger, and turning it into a steady bead that he used to infuse his voice with additional power, he turned to these professed leaders of the army.

“There must still be an accounting for these failures.” And like that everyone was tense and on edge once more. “Lord Tethaamen, you are relieved of your duties and position. Your clan fined for half of the armies’ losses. The Empress has enjoyed the company of your sister these past few seasons, and it is for her benefit that you’ll be permitted to retire to your clans estates. Lord Athekra, you’ll take command of the armies and carry out our Empress’ designs.”

Tethaamen stood stunned for a few moments, eyes bulging and lips moving in silent protests. Collecting himself, the general sagged just a little and nod. “The Empress shows her generosity once more,” he said as he bowed, far deeper and with reverence this time.

Halphamet shook his head as the former general left the tent to gather his retainers and ready his possessions for the trip west. The fines would certainly cripple Tethaamen’s clan financially for years to come. As the senior general, the bulk of the rewards would have been his, but so too the responsibility and the costs were his to bear. It could have been worse, for the lord and his clan. None of them would have to debase themselves in indentured servitude, or sell their prized sons to fight in the arena.

“Aw, I really thought you were going to let me eat him,” Shaleh huffed, a little pout on her burning lips revealed her large fangs. He frowned at the ifrit, letting his displeasure sparkle through the bond they shared.

Grinning at his sudden promotion, Athekra stepped forward at Halphamet’s behest and explained, in detail, the plans for the common assault.

Halphamet paid keen attention to the plans. While in truth they mattered little to him, results were his sole concern and not how they were attained. He did enjoy a good campaign. It had been years since he’d been able to lead whole armies, his role as the Empress’ Hoof keeping him busy with other duties.

He found his initial estimates of Athekra to be accurate. The young general had a keen mind and laid out a solid plan that was at once over powering and brutally efficient. Under cover of the artillery the hoofsoldiers would advance on the fortress. The griffons would almost certainly attempt to send light harassers to cover the retreat of the cataphracts. Waiting for the birds would be crews of field cannons in the adjacent hills, their weapons loaded with grapeshot. If the cataphracts joined in the counter-attack, or attempted to hold the walls, the empire’s latest invention would be waiting; the dragon.

Cousin to the cannon, the dragons were much smaller and could be effectively operated by a single zebra. Taking their name from the original ornate dragon headed weapon presented to the Empress by its inventor, the dragons had yet to prove themselves. Part of Halphamet sneered at the short metal tubes stuffed with magic powder and iron pellets. Crude, ugly weapons, they were near impossible to reload in the heat and fury of battle. They more than made up for this disadvantage in destructive efficiency. Watching his beloved empress test the first dragon before a crowd of nobles had brought a rare chill up his spine. More so for the smile the empress had worn after the smoke had cleared to reveal the target half blasted apart.

“With the Stars’ blessings, the fortress will fall before this evening.” Athekra sweeped his hoof over the maps to the nods and murmured agreement of his fellow generals, bringing Halphamet out of his reverie.

“I am pleased with your plan,” Halphamet replied when the eyes of the generals settled on him in anticipation. “There is only one thing to add. We must show our magnanimity. I will give the birds a final chance at surrender.”

He did not wait for a response from the generals and spun to march from the tent and towards the fields. Shaleh kept pace the entire way, his cohort following suit.

The army rippled with uncertainty as he entered their midst, determined stride carrying him through their heart on a cleared avenue. Around him, the soldiers tensed and snapped to attention to a rolling clash of spears. Gaze fixed on the border fortress, Halphamet did not let his pride show. These were all the finest of zebras, willing to give their lives for their empress.

Emerging from the neat ranks of soldiers Halphamet slowed, and then came to a stop a few yards into the sun dried grass.

Sol’s light glinted off helmets behind the murder holes and parapets of the fortress. The tops of spears could just be seen, and he knew near every eye was directed at him.

Reaching through the aethereal cords that bound him and Shaleh, he touched her fiery magics and brought them forth. He did not shape any runes, directing her magic with pure will and intent. Shaleh did the rest, merging the magic in his stead and feeding it to him. Warmth leapt into his throat, an unnatural heat settling in the back of his mouth and spilling over tongue, teeth, and down into his lungs.

“Griffons of Southstone, I am the Empress’ Horn,” Halphamet’s magic enhanced voice thundered over the fortress. “Hear me and know; should you lay down your arms now, you will be granted clemency and allowed to live under Her rule. Abide by Her laws, and you will be treated to the same rights and privileges of the common caste. Resist, and these fields will be wetted with your blood. Your fortress will be torn down to its foundations. Those in the towns and villages beyond put to the torch along with their homes.”

He did not flinch at the griffon’s response, a crossbow bolt sinking into the earth between his hooves.

Turning his back on the fortress he strode towards the command tent and dismissed Shaleh’s enchantment. “Just as she foresaw. Such a pity,” he said to himself. On reaching the waiting generals, he gestured with a lazy nod towards the fortress. “Sound the drums.”

Three lengths across and sitting atop a cross beam trestle in a wagon, the drums were spectacular and ornate. Flags fluttered from the corners of the base, deep crimson tails caught in the warm breeze. Gold trimmed almost every edge, leading to a snarling dragons head that acted as a protective canopy for the team hitched to the wagon. Both ends of the drums held taut dragonhide leather and bore the crest of the empire. At Halphamet’s command, the two drummers, one painted pure black, the other white, and each wearing special shoes, reared up.

At the first deep booms of the drums, one hundred and fifty thousand zebras began to march beneath the fluttering banners of the Gold Empress. Further in the distance there came the echoing groan and rumble of trebuchets. Boulders as big as a griffon spun through the afternoon heat, mere grey specs they were so far away. For a moment they hung in the clear blue sky, and then fell upon the fortress walls in a series of resounding, crackling booms. Chunks of stone blasted back onto the defenders. One unfortunate griffon was sent plummeting from the wall. He landed in a broken heap, flopped a few more yards, and was still.

“They will take wing to counter-attack,” general Athekra said to his aide-de-camp. “Ready the cannons. I want the birds drawn close before the first barrage.” Turning to Halphamet, he put on a grimly eager smile. “You can trust us, my lord. We’ll be at Southstone’s gates before the Summer Sun Celebrations.”

“I know you will, Athekra,” Halphamet assured the general as he took his leave, marching towards his waiting cohort. “Carry your head with pride, for it is destined that your name will be carved into Southstone’s epitaph as the architect of the griffons’ demise. The Empress has foreseen it. Oh, and general, have the griffons’ pelts sent to the elders of the Shali and Zebenese tribes. Let them know that we at last march to finish what our ancestors began. The griffon race will finally be purged from the disc, their cities put to the torch and their monuments torn down. When we are done, naught but a few, scattered families will be left clutching and grasping at the protective pity of ponies. May the Stars illuminate your path.”

“May Her light guide your way, my lord,” Athekra replied in rote fashion, his mind already entirely consumed with the task at hoof.

Under a private smile, Halphamet whispered, “That is yet to be seen.”

From the depths of clouded dreams, chased by nightmarish tendrils of the sleeping world, Zubu was startled back into the waking lands. He jerked out of his cot, mangled leg thrust out to take up his staff as he looked for the danger that had hounded his restless sleep. Phantoms of an army and an encompassing sense of dread pressed down on him. Heart racing and breath taken in sharp, shallow gasps, he hobbled forward a few paces before the dreams fully parted and recognition of his hut took shape.

Seated at the table, a spoon hovering just before her beak, Gilda watched Zubu with some concern. “Ha, nice to see even the mighty and terrible Zubu can have a bad dream,” she snorted before returning to her meerkat stew.

A bandage covered a large lump where she’d failed the last series of tests, the throbbing in her head leaving her temper even shorter than usual, and her tongue more acidic.

“The oneiras have carried to Zubu a dream through the Horn Gate from the Dreamlands,” he said after gulping his water. He began to pace, muttering under his stale breath to himself while Gilda watched with growing agitation. “The empress begins to make her move. Why march on cat-birds now? All they owned is already taken or in ruins. They pose no threat in their crumbling cities. Except…” Zubu darted a meaningful look to Gilda, then out the small window. He snatched up his best staff and made for the door.

“Come, come apprentice, we must learn more.” Zubu hurried from the hut, taking only a small satchel stuffed with dried roots and medicines.

So startled was she by the announcement that Gilda hardly moved from her seat. It wasn’t until Zubu poked his head back into the hut, and gave a sharp, “Stop dawdling with slack beak,” that she darted up.

She hurriedly took up her own staff and slipped it beneath a wing, and grabbed a ratty set of saddlebags. Into them she tossed a haphazard selection of preserved foods and sundry supplies. Almost stumbling as she left the hut, head already aching from fear of Zubu’s potential punishment, she cinched the bags tight. His good forehoof tapped the ground with growing impatience as she rushed to join him while his mangled right leg twitched the staff held in the fused joint of his elbow.

“It will be some time until we return, if ever. You made sure the bags were properly packed, yes?” His critical, milky eye darted over Gilda as a sour frown pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Will be bad, very bad, if there be no food for silly cat-bird after a few days. Can’t hunt where we are going. They won’t take kindly to that.”

A grumbled retort was bitten back, along with the familiar yearning for the easy life she’d abandoned in Equestria. It was a very slight desire, one tempered by time and the lump of hatred lodged into her heart like a broken blade.

“I’ve prepared a good supply, master,” she growled in response.

He nodded, satisfied with her response, shifted his own staff again so it more comfortably rested on his back, and started off down a little used path. “It is far we must go. Far and dangerous, even for Zubu. Especially for Zubu.” He spat the words with a heavy weight of disgust.

At the edge of the little dell where Zubu’s hut resided, Orenda greeted them. The kitsune was draped across a stout branch, her three tails dangling like puffy blue vines, chin resting on a white paw.

“And just where are you off to in such a rush?” She demanded, cracking an eye open just enough that the gold orb could peer down at the pair.

“To Zerubaba.” Zubu responded at once without slowing in his long, limping-hop steps. “A vision has been received, and we must answer the summons.”

Mouth falling open, Orenda dropped from her perch, bounced off Gilda’s flank, and darted up onto Zubu’s back, then over his head.

“Have your herbs finally ruined what was left of your mind? You can’t go to Zerubaba,” Orenda protested, blocking Zubu’s path, tails spread in a dancing fan. “They’ll kill you both on sight. That is assuming you survive the journey. I don’t know which is worse; crossing the plains or going through the jungle. Either the Dahkrit and their ifrit slaves catch you, or the others do. Each are as bad as the other. No, you will go through the jungle for sure because you are afraid of the ifrit. Twenty-five years we’ve kept the peace with them. Why risk it now because of some vision?”

A chill spread up Gilda’s back and into her wings, and though she was certain she didn’t want the answer, she asked, “Who are you talking about?”

“You cat-birds call them the White Apes. Silly name, as they are not white.” Zubu flopped his mangled hoof in a dismissive gesture. “What else would you suggest Orenda? Ifrit and their masters do not bargain. Best to avoid them as long as possible. The white apes are mostly harmless.”

“Only because you stick to your little corner of the jungle.” Orenda massaged her forehead. “Just… What was this vision? Some clouded mess? Was it the iboga or the yellow lotus? Or did you fill your nose with that ancient batch of dream root? Those visions are always unreliable. No, I take that back. They are all unreliable.”

“Bah! The vision is clear; the Gold Dragon has sent her armies east to fight the griffons. We must stop her plans. And, to do that we must cross the jungle.”

“You stubborn old cripple!” Orenda shot back, her tails snapping and smoke rising from their tips. “The White Apes barely tolerate you being in what they consider their jungle! Going deeper into their territory will only aggravate them further. Besides, we know who she wants; Talona. The alicorn filly Beaky here lost. Remember?”

“Beaky?” Gilda huffed, and was quickly shushed.

“Do we?” Zubu hummed and tapped his staff against his shoulder. “She’s no prize to the empress. Oh, no. Too dangerous. Too likely to attract the Sun, or Moon, or Stars. She had opportunity before. Let it pass. Did not try to steal the dreamer. No, there is something else going on. Some other reason for her actions. The creaky and old Zubu can taste it.”

“You’re seeing ghosts in the corner of your eye, again.” Orenda snapped, wagging her tails at Zubu. “Maybe, if this was more than just some drug induced vision…”

Orenda’s voice trailed off, her tails ceased their dance, and then drifted down. Her muzzle twitched, ears fell, and then she threw up her paws in exasperation.

“Fine! It’s not like I care what happens to the silly griffon. She’s your pet project, not mine. Don’t whine to me if they skin you both for intruding into their territory.”

“Ha-ha! The cautious Zubu knows how to slip past white ape city. We be across the jungle within a week, maybe two, with them none the wiser.”

Enthusiasm sinking, Gilda dragged her paws as Zubu lead the way towards the heart of the jungle. Hidden in the canopy, a cotton pink cloud watched and, were it possible, seemed to grin before darting off.

Heart twisted in knots, Iridia moved to a drumbeat of her own hooves through Canterlot Castle’s corridors and hallways. Faces swam into view, some concerned, others frightened, all scrambling to get out of her way. She hardly gave them more than a glance, even when they were a little slow to clear a path and she almost bowled the unfortunate pony over.

Only when High Priestess River Sparkle appeared down one corridor did Iridia give any sign of seeing what was happening around her. Her jaw tightened, face flushed, and stumbled a step as she shifted between turning back and moving faster. Catching herself before she tripped, Iridia halted there in the middle of the corridor.

Noticing the queen, River’s own face took on a dark cherry hue. She apologised to the pony with her, and then, after giving Iridia a stiff bow, hurried off.

Any other time and the odd dismissal would have tweaked Iridia’s curiosity. River was very much like an adopted daughter… or pet cat. Few were the mortals that ever held Iridia’s interest for more than the fleeting time they walked the disc. It was simple practicality. Their lives were so brief, and hers… was not. Nopony was served by growing overly attached.

In the corner of her eye Iridia spied for an instant a familiar form. Breath caught in her throat, and a name unspoken danced onto her tongue. She half-turned, wings spread in surprise, and found nothing there. Just a tapestry ruffled by a slight breeze.

For a few more seconds she stared, and hoped, and almost tugged the tapestry aside to see if anypony hid within the folds.

Somepony asked if she were alright.

She did not answer so silly a question.

Iridia was far, far from ‘alright’.

Picking up her pace, she set her mouth into a sharp line to dampen the quickening of her heart. Servants and pages darted out of her way faster now, and it wasn’t until she approached the royal quarters that anypony thought to check her advance.

The barrier came in the form of Celestia’s aged seneschal as he went about his usual duties. Peering over his glasses, Chronicle stepped into Iridia’s path. His tail flicked back and forth, with ears pressed back. “Your Highness,” Chronicle said, a slight quaver in his voice. “Princess Celestia is rather busy, and—”

In a voice like the snapping of a crocodile's teeth, she asked, “Do you know where I can find Cadence?”

Caught off guard, Chronicle blinked a couple times, then directed her to the guest wing. Thanking him, Iridia spun about and headed off back the way she’d come. A few minutes later she stepped into the red drawing room and a light bubble of conversation that ended at her appearance.

The warm scent of spiced tea tickled Iridia’s nose, rising from an elaborate serving set as it steeped. Scones, biscuits, and triangular cut sandwiches dotted a nearby tray. The afternoon tea was positioned within easy reach of the card table, where Magnum and Shining Armour sat across from Cadence and Fluttershy. From the demure grin on the latter, and the pinched brows of the former, it was clear who was winning the rubber of Whist.

“If I am not mistaken, this is about to be another grand slam,” Cadence giggled as Fluttershy played. Gaze flicking up as Iridia approached, she gave a happy smile, “Aunty, I’m so glad you’ve come to join us.”

For a brief moment Iridia was taken aback by the genuine warmth in Cadence’s demeanor. No stiffness, no withdrawn curtness, just a pleasant, curious tilt to her smile. It was such a welcome change from the responses given by the other members of their extended family that Iridia was taken aback.

Still, she could not smile in return. Not with the worry pinching at her insides. Not with the lingering taste of Mountain haunting her lips.

“Cadence, I need to speak with you in private,” Iridia said without preamble or further explanation, and made for the door to the adjoining blue sitting room.

Placing her hand on the table, Cadence apologised to the other players, and went to join Iridia. Closing the door behind her, she asked, “What is the matter?”

Iridia rounded on her and, in a breathless rush, said, “I need you to take it away.”

Surprised by the vehemence, Cadence tilted her head a little and pressed her brows together. “Take what away?”

“My love!” Iridia cried, throwing out her wings. “You have to take away my love for Mountain.”

Cadence’s eyes, so similar to those of her mother and grandmother, darted over Iridia’s face. Iridia could feel Cadence extend her essence, probing the connections of Love. After a few seconds, Cadence’s expression shifted back to her usual small smile. Settling on a couch, she indicated that Iridia should join her. But, Iridia couldn’t.

She still had to move, more so now that she was with somepony else.

Sighing, and shifting so she was more comfortable, Cadence said, “Tell me what brought this about.”

“It’s just… I love him!” Iridia moaned, as if it were so obvious all the problems that entailed. “He is—was—a mortal, and I love him. I can’t get him out of my head, and it is eating me up. Do you know what that is like? No, that is an asinine question, don’t answer.”

Cadence laughed. “So you fell in love with a mortal. I’ve done it a few times, and each has been special in their own, unique ways. I don’t see the issue.”

“You wouldn’t. You are Love.” Iridia flicked a dismissive wing. “I am the Spring, Birth, and Fertility. It’s different.”

Brow raised, Cadence clicked her tongue. “I don’t think it is, but go on.”

Exasperation growing, Iridia paced further. Her wings jittered, and her heart twisted more and more, like it was a boulder tumbling down a cliff towards the onrushing embrace of an icy bay. “I love him still, and he is dead. And worse, I can’t even talk about him because…” Iridia clamped her mouth shut, and for the first time she realised what she was doing. Cadence didn’t know the truth about Thundering Mountain and Twilight.

Well, there was nothing else for it but to continue. She needed this resolved, and Cadence was the only pony in existence that could possibly give her the assistance she craved.

“He is Twilight’s father.”

The implications struck Cadence at once, and the mirth she’d been wearing disappeared just as quick. Letting out a long groan, Cadence reached up to rub the side of her head. “Why is nothing ever simple with our herd? This explains why Luna has been avoiding you, again. I’m going to assume that Twilight is the only pony left who doesn’t know.”

Face pinched with a sour frown, Iridia tried her best to ignore the bite in Cadence’s tone and press on.

“I’m scared, Cadence. I’m scared I will lose Twilight, too. I am scared that I will lose myself, as I did when Namyra was taken from me. I need you to take away my love for Mountain so that doesn’t happen.”

“Why stop with Mountain?” Cadence snapped, her words causing Iridia to stop pacing as if she’d been struck. “Why not ask me to cut away your feelings for Twilight? Or for your sister, Celestia, Luna, and myself? You love us all, as well. Have me pull up all the love you’ve ever felt by the roots. Encase your heart in blackened armour so you can never love again, while I am at it. Turn you into an unfeeling thing no better than an animated statue.”

Speechless, Iridia withered underneath the glare Cadence sent at her.

Getting up, Cadence continued, “There is no easy fix for grief. You’re worried about becoming a nightmare again? Good. You should be. That fear is honest, at least. But, you’ve come to the wrong mare if you think I’d massage your guilt and coddle your concerns. My mother at least has the thin excuse of having carried a shard of madness in her soul. What excuse do you have for what you did during the Long Winter?”

Each statement, every question struck Iridia like a hammer blow. She staggered back, breath caught in her throat, the room reeling around her. The scent of blood, and death, and ice engulfed her. They mingled together, swirling in a potent mixture, drawing forth hundreds of faces. Too many to be named. Starved voices scratched at her ears, pleading, praying for her to return spring. And she sat silent upon her throne, mourning her little dreamer.

It was so close to happening again. Her heart ached. It pounded against her chest, and demanded something be done.

“That is why I need my love for him removed!” Iridia shouted back. “If I don’t love him, I won’t grieve or strike out at those who stole him from me.”

Cadence gave a shallow laugh. “Well, I’d certainly like to see you try, seeing as it was a demon he died fighting. What, are you going to march on Tartarus? Bring Eternal Winter to the underworld?”

Iridia took a step back at Cadence’s vehemence.

“N-No! What if I blame the town?”

“Do you?”

“Of course not,” Iridia admitted. “But, what if I do later? What if I close myself off again and deny the disc the next spring?”

Softening, Cadence came up next to Iridia and extended a wing across her great-aunt’s back. “Well, you have all of us to help you through this. Take it from me; cutting away your love is not the solution. Instead of hiding in my tower, why don’t you join us?”

Biting her lower lip to hold back a reflexive refusal, Iridia considered the offer. If Cadence refused to give her the relief she so fervently required, other means of control were a must. Iridia could not allow history to be repeated. She had to buttress her cracked heart with something.

“I will take you up on that offer.” Iridia sighed. “I still feel it would be better if you just took away the pain.”

“Excellent!” Cadence clapped her hooves, ignoring the latter statement entirely. “Since you’ll be joining us, I could use your help with a puzzle. I am having difficulty with Fluttershy. There is something odd with her that I can’t place.”

In place of explanations, Cadence guided Iridia back to the red drawing room. She was bright, chipper, and so warm against Iridia’s side, giving the queen hope that, perhaps, the right choice had been made. Perhaps, this time, the cruel winter of guilt would be weathered.

Three bells ringing from the temple tower signalled to one and all that school had ended for the day. Fillies and colts, wrapped in a cloud of happy chatter, darted from the schoolhouse, their teacher shouting instructions for homework as they raced home.

Only one of the children didn’t flee the classroom as if it were on fire, covered in cockroaches, or cockroaches that were on fire.

At the back of the classroom, Soir placed her books into her saddlebags at a sedate pace. She hummed to herself a little tune devoid of meaning that switched between bouncy, sad, and a low rumble without any discernable pattern. It was a private tune, one she’d worked on for as long as she could remember.

Her teacher came up, shaking her head at the folly of her other students, and said, “Well, Soir, you should canter along. We don’t want your mother worrying again, now do we?”

“No, ma’am,” Soir replied, not looking up. Her favourite pencil was missing. The dark blue one with the cutie mark of Princess Luna. Darting down, she looked under her desk, in her bag, spun around a couple times, checked her bags again, under the desk once more, and then the tapping of an impatient hoof and a gentle shove saw her out of the schoolhouse. “But, Miss…”

The door snapped shut in front of Soir’s nose, and the lock was clicked in place.

Slumping her shoulders with a long sigh, Soir turned and trudged away. Her pace was slow, as it was most days.

Meandering through Lourdes’ she stopped frequently to peer through windows into the various shops. Boasting only a single cafe, Lourdes’ was the cultural center of its little region of southern Prance. The window Soir lingered the longest by held a dress of soft satins and shimmering gems. Based on a design from Equestria made popular the year before, it was all dark blues and royal velvets meant to hint at the history of Princess Luna Invictus, but with modern sensibilities in mind.

Face pressed almost up against the glass, Soir wondered what the distant princess was like. According to the Book of Selene, Princess Luna had grown up in one of the valleys along southern Prance in what was then Trotalonia. She enjoyed imagining that it was the very same valley within which Lourdes sat.

A dream of Luna darting through woods and over a pond flitted across Soir’s thoughts. The Princess of the Night was chasing her. Her! It was a game. An old one that they’d played many times before and would do so again. Cheating, Luna caught up to her, and they tumbled together through the grass.

The day dream passed as quick as it came, leaving an empty pit in the bottom of Soir’s stomach.

Or, that was just the pinch of hunger.

Food rationing had grown worse just the other day. With the poor crops of the past year, and the needs of the army for the war with Hackney, there simply wasn’t enough to go around for every pony. Hope existed, however, as word spread that Lady de Lis had secured several shipments of grain and other goods from Equestria. The ambassador’s name was the toast at many a table as the good news spread, and every pony in Prance looked eagerly to the west for relief, if not outright salvation. This did not stop the very next breaths bemoaning that they had to go, hat in hoof, begging Equestria’s aid. No doubt, many agreed, Princess Celestia would enact a steep toll for her benevolence.

Soir was luckier than most in this regard. Her mother’s talent in gardening allowed them to fill out their plates, enough so that they could spare a few cucumbers and radishes for their neighbours.

Not looking where she was going, it was only natural for her to walk into another pony. Soir bounced off a large, black leg and landed with a thump.

“I’m sorry,” she hurried to say, looking up, up, up to see a pair of vivid blue eyes staring back at her from down a long muzzle tipped in a pointed, silver beard.

The stallion let out a long, huffy sigh, but didn’t say anything in response. He just looked on her as if he’d never seen anypony less interesting. Soir began to apologize again, but a crawling sensation underneath her skin made her stop. There was something very familiar about the stallion, though she was certain she’d never seen him before. Or, had she?

So much of her life before waking in her mama’s bed following the Long Night of Princess Luna’s return was an indistinct blur. There were faces, shapes, feelings of terror, joy, and rage that permeated her dreams, but the specifics fell through her hooves like grains of sand.

“Do I know you?” She asked, following that thread of her lost past.

“Perhaps. Has the inevitability of death taken any pony from you?”

The question made Soir’s insides squirm.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Are you an undertaker?”

“Of sorts.” Came the clipped response.

The stallion now looked at her with far more interest. He stepped around her, inspecting her from various angles, taking in her dusky blue coat, silver mane, and cutie mark. She possessed an intricate weave of rainbow lines within a golden rope circle, with a feather each from a Taigan Roc, a Phoenix, and a Paradiso dangling beneath. Soir had long wondered what her cutie mark meant. A click of his tongue, his gaze shot up to pink eyes, lingered on her mane broach, then let out a slight snort.

“You should take care where you trot in the future.” And with this he brushed past her and headed towards the cafe, where a large, grey stallion sat waving.

Soir watched him leave, perplexed by his abruptness. She was more and more certain that she’d seen the stranger before.

The fragments of memories slithered along the back her head, prickled her mane and made her skin crawl. Eyes scrunched tight, she followed the trail of memories as if they were a line of ants, but could reach no revelation. Only the same shifting sea of coarse sand formed of her missing past. She prodded and attempted to push deeper, to find some clue as to why so much of her life was a blank.

Just as she felt certain of a breakthrough, a shrill voice intruded into her thoughts.

“Hey, if it isn’t the weirdo Equestria lover.”

A heavy groan left Soir. She didn’t have to look to see the wide, malicious grins worn by the trio of bullies that had plagued her life for as long as she could remember. In a few short weeks, it’d be three years. Three years of the same group of fillies making fun of her, throwing her things into the mud and calling her names.

Setting her shoulders, Soir reluctantly faced her tormentors.

“Looking for this?” The leader of the trio held up Soir’s missing prized pencil.

That it was hers was not in doubt. Bite marks showed Soir’s habit of chewing on her pencil’s end while working through a difficult problem.

Soir locked onto the pencil, hovering in an orange glow, and shouted, “Give it back, Bella!” She reached out, only for Bella to yank the pencil away.

A fairly plump filly, Bella belonged to House Trembler. Though only a relatively minor cadet branch of the House, the local Tremblers held almost all the political and economic power in the valley. As such was the way of things, Bella Trembler possessed the attitude that everything within Lourdes and surrounding area was hers to do with as she pleased.

Especially when it concerned the ‘low-born’ unicorns.

Something she went out of her way to remind Soir at every opportunity.

“Why? It’s just a silly piece of Equestrian trash.” Bella covered her mouth with a faux gasp. “I forgot. You are all ga-ga for Princess Luna, aren’t you? I bet you even sleep with a doll of her!”

“Look, she’s blushing!”

“Ha-ha! She does, she does have a woona dolly.”

The two, thick set fillies behind Bella snickered and nudged each other.

“N-no, I don’t,” Soir stammered, with rather unconvincing effect. The simple truth was that she did have a wicker doll of Luna, made by her mother. At night she loved nothing more than to curl up around the doll, straw crinkling every time she moved. It was the only way she could sleep, her princess fending off the nightmares that otherwise prowled through her sleep.

“So, you don’t want this back then?” Bella pulled the pencil away and gave it a little waggle.

“Of course I do!” Soir tried to reach out with her magic, only for her aether to clump in her horn. Rather than the grasping aura most unicorn produced, all she managed to conjure was a wispy strand that barely had the strength to lift a feather.

“Look, she’s trying to do magic,” the left bully pointed and laughed, drawing an amused snort from her friends.

“It’s almost cute, if it weren’t so infuriating,” Bella agreed, spinning the pencil this way and that with casual ease. “What kind of unicorn that has her mark can’t even make a proper aura? Even blank-flanks can manage that at least.”

A thick blush on her cheeks, and tears building in her eyes, Soir whined, “So I can’t do magic! Why do you even care? Why can’t you leave me alone? I never did anything to you. I think.”

“Except going on and on about how you dream.” Bella put extra emphasis on the final word, turning it into a vicious growl. “You aren’t a unicorn. A real unicorn is able to do magic, dreams only once a year as is proper, and doesn’t write with their mouths like a common mud pony. You’re a freak.”

With this last statement, Bella snapped the pencil and threw the bits into Soir’s face with a cruel laugh.

Heart oddly still, Soir looked down at the broken halves of her pencil. She pushed them across the ground with a hoof.

Anger at everything filled her gut and throat. It was so unfair. She’d never hurt anypony. Why did she have to be the pariah? Even the adults went out of their way to snub her and her mother. The spinster and the freak that showed up following the Long Night. Bad omen, they whispered under their breaths when she passed.

Even then, from the corners of her eye, Soir could see no less than a dozen adults observing the scene while trying to also look anywhere but in her direction. With a word, any one of them could have ended the charade. But no, they stayed quiet and made no move to intervene. They probably silently cheered the bullies on!

Lifting her chin, Soir glared daggers at Bella and her cronies, the bullies bumping hooves as they celebrated their latest victory.

In the instant between rage and action the town melted away into a dusty desert plain. Soir stood at the heart of a chaotic maelstrom of clashing metal, death screams, and swirling sand. It filled her nose and stung her eyes, carrying a red tinge and the scent of iron. Her aura was strong, vibrant, clasping a longsword stained and nicked from years of use. She reared, hooves striking the air like hammer blows. Around her, the remnants of an army—her army—rallied, and drove into the enemy, and was slaughtered.

A long scream rattling in her throat, Soir lunged at Bella.

Guided by instinct, Soir didn’t just kick or attempt to throttle Bella, not with the bully’s accomplices right there to pull her off. When Bella attempted to back away from the maddened filly, Soir ducked low, snaked her hooves around Bella’s leg, pivoted, then threw herself forward. The surprised Bella shot over her back, leg held fast and twisting until it gave an audible pop. Screaming, Bella writhed in the street, drawing the attention of everypony.

Shocked by Soir’s ferocity, the two remaining bullies backed away.

Through bared teeth, Soir challenged the other two bullies to interfere. She knew exactly how to fight the pair, how to inflict the most damage in the shortest period of time.

Sneering, Soir applied more pressure, drawing another howl from Bella. “Some friends you—Hey!” Soir was plucked off Bella, lime green magic preventing any attempts at escape.

“Soir, what are you doing!” Jardin screeched, marching up to her daughter, a bag holding their allotted loaf of bread falling discarded in the street. It took all her effort to hold Soir, little sparks darting from the tip of her horn.

“They started it!” Soir shouted, trying to thrust a hoof at the trio.

“I do not care who started it,” Jardin snapped, her tone such that Soir knew better even in her anger than to argue further. Bending down, Jardin felt Bella’s shoulder. A yelp broke through the sobs. “It’s dislocated,” Jardin explained, more to the other adults coming to help now that somepony had been hurt.

“Send for the doctor,” somepony said to another in the growing crowd. When a fleet hooved mare had darted off, the pony said to Jardin, “You should take Soir home.”

Jardin didn’t argue and retrieving her bread and daughter marched off, Soir bobbing along at her side.

“Interesting, brother,” Zeus said to Hades, the brothers sitting at one of the cafe’s outdoor tables, “She is clearly divine. But appears as a mortal.”

Far more interested in his coffee, Hades didn’t glance up from the steaming, creamy brown liquid. He issued a noncommittal grunt, and nothing more.

“You know more of this world. Have you ever heard of anything like this?” Zeus pressed, tapping a hoof on the table in an attempt at getting Hades’ attention.

“Very little, in truth. Ioka is a backwater, with only a small district in the south-west of Tartarus. They have no god of the dead or death, and so fall nominally under my supervision. It has been a few millennia since I had cause to take any interest in that portion of the city. On the whole, the Iokans are rather quiet and keep to themselves. I’ve never had reason to do more than bother learning that Iridia and Faust held sway over this world, and let the district take care of its own affairs.”

Zeus was entirely unsatisfied with his brother’s explanation. He clicked his tongue twice, swirled his own bitter, black coffee, and then swallowed it in a single burning gulp.

“An alicorn filly doesn’t concern you, then? One bound by such a powerful curse as to appear mortal?” Zeus pressed after watching Soir and Jardin disappear down the street.

Shrugging the wings he kept hidden behind layers of illusions, Hades asked, “Why should it? Who can say what made Iridia or Faust cast their daughter down to scrape out some meager existence among the mortals.”

“Have you no sense of adventure? Of curiosity at all?” Zeus sighed, then tugged on his beard as some new thought came to him, “I wonder at her lineage.”

“There are only two options. Flip a drachmas.”

A playful swat jolted Hades forward just as he was about to drink his coffee, causing it to splash all over his face and chest. “No, the father, you blockhead. Who could be the father?” Zeus rumbled with his natural good humour.

Dabbing at his coat with napkins, Hades glared at his brother. “How should I know, or care? I imagine that they either went to one of the other worlds, or some god or other passed through. Those mortals by my gate did mention them having a herd. Why do you even care, brother? Jealous that there might be some other god out there with a brood as large as yours?”

“Ha-ha! Never! My sons and daughters are legion!”

Zeus beamed.

Hades glowered.

“What about Poseidon?” Hades pointed out.

“He cheats, being father to the rivers,” Zeus waved a dismissive hoof, then hopped off his chair, “Come, let us follow her and find the truth for ourselves.”

Hardly seeing the point, but aware that arguing was futile, Hades followed at a languid pace. A prickling of the mane told him they were being watched and he had little doubt that before long one or both of the divine sisters responsible for the disc would make their presence known.

Author's Note

Huzzah! Just under the wire!

I rushed a few of the edits here and there as it was more important to maintain my personal goal of a chapter per month. All rough patches are my own fault for being distracted and slow to respond to Honey Mead's suggestions. Then there was a page and a half that got rewritten and probably sticks out like a sore thumb. But, I need to keep myself these promises.

The opening of this chapter is something I've had written for the better part of a year now. I really can't say when I put together the Halphamet portions. There was one line that came up during editing that was a reference to something, but I'll be darned if I can remember what... It has subsequently been removed... Oh well, clearly I was not all that attached to it. ^^;;

We're getting closer and closer to having caught up with pre-revisions Myths. I'm not using much at all of the original story, now I come to it, and am rewriting most everything whole-cloth, as it were. When I went to salvage portions I had a serious case of, "Everything I've ever done is horrible and I am a useless writer"-syndrome. So, taking advice from Edna Mode; 'I never look back, darling. It distracts from the now.'

Hope the chapter was enjoyable, and the rough sections were too distracting.

Book Two: Chapter Three: The Pleasures of Family

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duty and Dreams
Chapter Three: The Pleasures of Family

Celestia stared down her long muzzle, the intensity of her gaze making the pony on the other side of her desk squirm and wriggle. To her left, Chronicle watched with a growing, secret smile hidden behind his clipboard. Long practiced in the art of hiding her emotions, Celestia let none of the mirth bouncing in her chest show as she instead clicked her tongue softly.

“So,” Celestia said, drawing out the word, “you wish to join me for Court?”

Looking rather small in the chair, a chair usually reserved for Luna or Cadence, Tyr bobbed her head. “Yes,” she replied quickly, leaning forward in excitement. “I’m the Goddess of Justice, so, it makes sense for me to assist with any courtly judgements to be made, doesn’t it? I could help you. See if a pony really is guilty or not. Or, if there is some injustice behind their petitions. Like yesterday, when that business pony wanted to build a new mine, but was trying to steal the rights to the land away from the poor ponies who lived there. I saw that right away!”

Tyr shifted in her chair to show off her cutie mark, a set of scales balanced on the point of a sword, all surrounded by a laurel wreath. She made a point of showing off her mark, chest puffed out in pride and happiness, to every pony she met. Often with a quick beat of her wings and toss of her mane to highlight her long horn.

“Mmm Hmm, and then you started yelling at her, and worse. It was quite the black eye you gave Lady Gleam.” Celestia hummed, a slight uptick of amusement entering her voice.

Tyr’s cheeks darkened and her gaze darted to the paperwork in front of Celestia, a neat little stack dealing with the repercussions of that minor incident. The beginnings of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and Celestia almost gave in and let it spread. Almost.

Recovering quickly, Tyr tapped a hoof on the edge of the desk. “You also owe me for the Fostering fiasco, still, you know.”

Ah, there it was.

Celestia’s inward amusement only grew at the blatant attempt to manipulate her guilty conscious. Fostering Tyr was, without a doubt, the worst decision she’d made in an exceedingly long time. Up there with attempting to fight Amon alone when she was barely two centuries old, or burying herself in ruling Equestria and ignoring Luna’s pleas for help in the run-up of the Nightmare’s emergence. She could not even say the consequences of her actions this time had, at least, been less dire.

It’d be years before the full repercussions were made known. Tyr was fine, this much was true, but Celestia had set a cascade of events tumbling down the hill that night, and where they led, only Faust knew.

Outside, Selene could be seen approaching Sol, the moon half dark and half silver as she went through her phases. Somewhere on her desk was a letter from the Astronomer’s Guild berating her, Luna, and Twilight for yet another upheaval to the heavens and the night sky. An incomplete response sat elsewhere, waiting to be finished. In truth, her letter was little more than a few placating remarks and assurances that their grievances were at least being heard. A few years and they’d grow used to the new order.

Or, perhaps she, Luna, and Twilight would restore the diametric positions of the sun and moon. Reforming Nauta Anar Isilye, the ancient sigil that had kept order in the heavens for most of the last three and a half thousand years, would be bothersome, but it had been done before. In the meantime, there were new tidal almanacs to print and distribute, the Astronomer’s Guild to placate, again, and a worried populace to soothe.

“What do your parents say on the matter?” Celestia pointedly picked up one of the scrolls and flicked her signature along the bottom after a quick glance across the flowery words on the page. “You have asked them, correct?”

Bristling, Tyr sank back into her chair, hooves crossed and unable to look away from the bust of Faust along the wall. “I don’t have to ask them for everything.”

Celestia glanced up from her paperwork, brow raised into a perfect, slender arc.

“What about when you travel to the Crystal City? Cadence does have her own nation to tend. Perhaps you could sit with her.”

“But, the Crystal City is so small, and Cadence has delegated all her power to their House of Ladies and Duke Blueblood.” A long whine came with the protest, Tyr slumping further in the oversized chair. “I looked it up, thinking the same thing. Did you know Cadence hasn’t actually held court in a hundred and sixty three years! How can you rule a nation if you never do any ruling?!” Chin landing on the edge of the desk with a soft thwap, Tyr glared over the rolling hills of paperwork. “None of the gods back home ever did this sort of mundanity. How do you put up with it?”

“Patience and experience,” Celestia responded, her quill scrawling three signatures and some alterations to wording on a land-lease in the Heartlands. Red scatchmarks and flowing script made, the scroll was bundled and tossed onto a tray set next to Chronicle for those missives that were more urgent than those that went out in the evening. As she picked up the next in the apparently endless stacks of paperwork, she asked, “Wouldn’t you rather spend time with your cousin? Shyara could use a friendly, familiar face.”

Tyr’s face scrunched up. “She’s has been pouting in her room and yelled at me when I went to see her.”

“Well, it has been a difficult few weeks for her. I hope you’ll be able to help her through things. You are the closest family she has on Ioka.” A pointed look was added, one Tyr brushed off.

“We never really saw much of each other until our parents started warring with the Olympians.” Tyr shrugged her wings for added emphasis. “And she’s not the only one who has had it difficult lately. It’s not like she had her wings and lustre stolen, was almost torn to pieces by a ritual gone wrong, and had to fight her way back.”

A strong glare was added at the end, and it was Celestia’s turn to shrug off a jab.

“Or,” Tyr muttered, “suffered what the ponies did in Ponyville.”

Celestia’s quill scratched a jagged line across the page in front of her, a sharp intake of breath quickening her heart. Quick to seal the crack in her composure, Celestia turned the topic back to Shyara, saying, “No, she merely lost a pony as dear to her as Shining has become to you. Was almost consumed by a shadow demon, and if not for the vagaries of fate, would be dead.”

Pale beneath her coat, Tyr shrank in her chair. “I-I know that! Okay, so, she had it bad too.”

Looking away, Tyr caught her lower lip in her teeth for a second before pushing on. “I think Shyara would do better with the fillies from Ponyville. Elegant and Melody Sparkle helped me adjust. She needs to make her own friends, not be given mine, and she doesn’t need the reminders of the Citadel seeing me brings. They know better what she is going through.” Looking towards Chronicle, she asked, “How are they?”

He cleared his throat, and after receiving a slight nod from Celestia, said, “You could go and see for yourself, if you want. They’re still in the guest suites with Lady Apple, Lady Posey, and madam Zecora.”

“No,” Tyr quickly shook her head, then looked pointedly up at Celestia. “I’d rather stay with you. I need to learn about the laws and governance. I’m Justice, but that means little, really. I don’t want to be a figurehead on high, untouchable in a mountain temple-palace like the gods on Gaea. Will there be priests in my service? What would they do? Or…” Again she gave a slow shake of her head and a weary growl. “Finding my domain was supposed to give me answers. That is what Athena always told me. Instead, all I have now are more questions, the biggest being what do I do with myself? Where do I fit in the world? Does Ioka even have need for a Goddess of Justice?”

Wings drooping, Tyr began to drift off into her own thoughts.

Laying her quill aside, Celestia gave Tyr her full attention. “I suppose it can’t hurt for you to join me as a guest. Twilight did so a few times when she were younger.” Tyr’s face brightened, a wide grin spreading from the corner of her eyes in a white flash. “But, you have to behave yourself.” Standing before Tyr could break into gratitude, Celestia indicated for both her and Chronicle to follow.

Walking at a dignified pace, one that allowed Tyr to keep up on her much shorter legs without running, Celestia asked Chronicle about who’d come to make petitions.

“There are the usual; Lord Parallax is back,” Celestia didn’t even attempt to hide the roll of her eyes or low grunt of displeasure, “with the rest of his coterie. The Hackney Ambassador sent a letter early this morning that he’d need some of your time today. Depending on how long those run, I’ve put aside as much as a half-hour for the usual walk-in petitions. Since it is that time of year, the normal requests for blessings on unborn foals is to be expected. I’ve kept the number down to just five today, since afterwards Arbiter Precedence and Judicator Temperance have a case involving Lady Rheum of House Dust and a local farmer for your attention. They’ve been at odds for some time over land ownership.”

“It’s not like Precedence to bring something like this to Canterlot,” Celestia mused as they left the royal suites and entered the bureaucratic wing.

“I’ve been given to understand a body was found that turned out to belong to the farmer’s mother, and foul play is strongly suspected, with each party accusing the other, and a fair bit of evidence to corroborate both interpretations. Given the long lasting dispute and animosity, both parties requested you judge the case, ma’am. I have a packet here with the details, if you’re interested.”

At the mention of ‘a body’, Tyr’s ears perked up, and she gazed expectantly between Celestia and Chronicle. If she were another mare, Celestia would have sighed and quipped about it being, ‘one of those days’. As it was, she gave a slight nod and readied herself for what would be an unusual day of court. There was just enough time for a reassuring smile that she wasn’t going to send Tyr away for the trial.

A promise was a promise, and she was curious about what the nascent goddess would do in regards to the case. How would Tyr respond if the guilty pony was before her and denied culpability? Would she be able to see the lies and guilt? Was she truly ‘Justice’, or something adjacent?

Questions upon questions, and time enough for them to be examined later.

“Remember that you are only an observer in court,” Chronicle said, giving Tyr the same instructions he had Twilight years before. “Sit quietly, unless asked a question by the princess. Answer any such questions succinctly. Never interrupt, neither Her Highness or the petitioner. And, try not to embarrass the crown.”

“I know, I know.” Tyr gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “It’s no different than when Aphrodite and Apollo would parade me in front of their faithful.”

Amused by the exchange, Celestia swept into the court from the side entrance while the herald was half-way through announcing her arrival. The hefty buzz among the crowd that had come to witness or petition the court faded, all eyes moving to watch their princess and her great-niece.

After the usual fanfare, the ceremonial little dance that was the opening of Daycourt, Lord Parallax took center stage at the bottom of the stairs to the throne.

He bowed low, sweeping one leg to the side. So very low. Almost to the point of mockery.

“Your Royal Highness, Princess Celestia Invictus, as always it is an immense pleasure to bask in your radiant company.” He purred in overly honeyed tones. Lord Parallax turned his attention to Tyr next. “Your Highness, Princess Tyr. It is fortuitous that you are here, as the matter I wish to bring to court involves you.”

Already not liking where the conversation was destined, Celestia asked, “What about my great-niece concerns my court?”

“She’s an alicorn, ma’am,” Lord Parallax stated, as if it answered all questions.

“Yes, she is,” Celestia agreed. “And?”

“She wasn’t a week ago!”

“Yes, I was,” Tyr piped up, her wings ruffled with indication. “As I have been since I was born a—”

Chronicle cleared his throat. Clamping her mouth shut, Tyr gave Celestia an apologetic smile, one that was answered by a little wink.

“Lord Parallax—”

“Princess, it has simply become too much to bear!”

Eyebrows pinched at being interrupted, Celestia allowed Parallax to dig himself a deeper hole.

“She appears at Princess Cadence’s side, right after the Sparkle Heir became a goddess—one we all are forced to accept has dominion over the stars—and you give a haphazard and ludicrous story of her being the daughter of a friend of Prince Armour. A friend who, conveniently, died in a shipwreck along with his herd so no pony can verify the truth. Except, we can, because of the lineage records kept on all the noble bloodlines. Well, I did look into the records, and know what I found?”

Lord Parallax paused, then stamped his hoof to an emphatic, “Nothing!”

A few in the crowd rolled their eyes and whispered to their neighbours, obviously acquainted with the lord and his antics at court. There was a light smattering of curiosity in little pockets, a few ponies leaning closer so as to avoid missing anything that was said. Hardly necessary as the marble walls amplified everything said by a petitioner so that a whisper could be heard in the furthest corners.

Puffing himself up at the murmur of approval from those nearest, Lord Parallax swept around to address the rest of the court. “Where did she come from? Does her reappearance, and apparent ascencion, have anything to do with your disappearance from Canterlot over the holidays? Many didn’t notice, what with the Season, but—”

“That is a rather personal line of enquiry.” A subtle smile lifted the corners of Celestia’s mouth, and a smattering of laughter rippled around the crowd. “Since it seems inevitable the rumours will begin; no, I didn’t sneak off to visit a paramour. I was dealing with some of the consequences of a hastily made decision.”

“Surely, you can not think that enough of an explanation!” Lord Parallax sputtered.

Growing very tired with the conversation, Celestia let it show in a long sigh. “It will have to be enough, as it is all you are going to receive.”

“That is unacceptable!” Lord Parallax tossed up his hooves, and then swept them towards the windows. “Should little fillies and colts all over the nation dream now of sprouting wings and horn? That they will be whisked to the palace and proclaimed as your niece, nephew, cousin, or perhaps foal?”

“If they so desire.” The answer was emphatic as it was simple, bringing Lord Parallax up short.

He recovered quickly. He always did.

“And, of course they will, won't they? It seems every other week some new relative of yours is just popping into existence.” A long sneer twisted at Parallax’s features. “It would be little surprise if Princess Luna’s seneschal turned out to be a half-sister, the speed with which she was advanced following the Nightmare Incident.”

Celestia had rarely been as disappointed with a conversation. Lord Parallax was far too predictable and self-absorbed to be a decent verbal sparring partner. His predecessor, for all his quarrelsome ways, had been capable of interesting debates. The current Lord Parallax was too self-aggrandizing to be a worthy foe.

“And now, to top it all off, rumours swirl about the city that you have another such filly locked up in the palace. It would be all too easy to discount these rumours as being about Tyr, except they are adamant on this filly being black coated and silver maned, and even the least astute could not mix pink for black. Is this new filly some illegitimate daughter of Princess Twilight? Is that why Princess Twilight was sent to Ponyville in the first place? To keep this foal hidden from the rest of the nobility? Or, did she leave of her own accord to keep the filly hidden from you?”

Beside her, Tyr alternated between gaping at Lord Parallax, and shooting fearful glances up at Celestia.

‘Dear heart,’ boomed a whisper into Celestia’s thoughts. ‘May I be allowed to address that annoying, little leech? The way he is speaking to you is not right. I will set him straight for you, love.’

There was a giddy edge to Sol’s voice, one that brought to mind a manic grin plastered onto the golden face of the sun, coronal ejections stretching out to encompass Canterlot like arms. Responding through feeling alone, Celestia asked the sun to wait. Patience was not Sol’s forte. Through the windows the sun took on a deeper tone as she pouted, shifting from her overwhelming, luminous yellow, to a still overpowering marigold.

Focused as they were on the confrontation between Lord Parallax and Celestia, few in the court took notice. Celestia was certain that would not be the case across the entirety of the disc.

“Lord Parallax, I do not appreciate any pony using rumours to attack my cousin,” Celestia said with a voice that cracked across the room. She was aware of Tyr’s cringe, and the momentary fear that flickered from pony to pony. Even Lord Parallax took a partial step back, his ears twisting towards the great doors as if in preparation of flight.

Taking a deep breath in order to control her voice, she paused, then said, “Who my sister chooses to promote is her own purview. As for whether the little fillies and colts of Equestria should imagine and fantasize about being whisked into the life of a princess, or prince; I see no harm in allowing them to dream. The pattern has played out before, when Luna and myself awakened and claimed Selene and Sol, respectively, or Cadence appeared at the end of the Nightmare’s reign. There have been books and poems, plays and songs on the subject for centuries.”

‘I believe I claimed you, and not the other way around,’ giggled Sol.

‘Hush, love, please,’ Celestia sent along the private connection, and to the crowd continued, “There were many a pony, some daughters of friends and acquaintances, who dreamed and played at being alicorns. Some took the dreams too far, and were left disappointed. Ponies may think that because Twilight was my personal apprentice, that the role had some significance in her ascension. It did not. I have taken many, many apprentices, and I will take many more. For the past few years I’ve been keeping a lookout for ponies with potential, and there are a few young, upcoming magicians that have the necessary combination of latent talent, skill, and personality to make a fine apprentice.”

“And, let me guess, it will be one of the younger Sparkles? Or perhaps a Dust? Or one of your other favoured Houses.” Parallax either couldn't, or refused, to keep the contempt from his voice.

An indignant growl rippled into Celestia. ‘Oh, and what if it were? I mean, Twilight’s little sister… Star? Yes, Star. She certainly has talent. More talent than has ever come from House Lulamoon.’

“I understand that the last few weeks have been tumultuous. The eclipse has left every pony a little on edge, as has Selene being present during the day.” Celestia paused.

‘Intruding into our special time together. Our sisters really have no shame.’ Sol huffed, and the light flooding through the ancient stained glass windows, and across the disc, dimmed a little more.

This time, the sun’s antics didn’t go unnoted by anypony present. Parallax cast a sharp glance out the windows, eyes narrowed, and then shot suspicion towards Celestia. She gave no sign that she noticed Sol’s antics, and instead just leaned a little forward, a pleasant smile gracing her fine features. “But, that is an ill excuse to take such a tone in my court, Lord Parallax.”

“Of course.” He bowed, as deep as when he’d begun the present charade. “I beg your apologies, your Divine Highness.”

‘You aren’t going to let him go with that little slap on the flank, are you?’ Sol’s indignant huff was followed by a coronal burst, an immense arch of flame curling across her surface before snapping, the energy crackling off into bleak emptiness of space.

Before the fiery wings had finished forming, the prayers began to assault Celestia from across the disc. Tens of thousands stared and whispered and begged atonement for whatever slights they had caused to give the sun grievance.

“Dear heart, you need to control yourself,” Celestia spoke with a steel softness, her gaze fixed on her charge through the windows so as no pony present could mistake whom she addressed.

Sol did not apologize, but there was a slightly embarrassed shine as she calmed and said, ‘I will get back to watching the Oranges then. Mango has been sneaking off with that Chocolate Rose again, and Mandarine just found an old letter from Uncle Eustace to Bright Seed talking about how they almost eloped, but then he went and joined the navy, as you know! So exciting! Unless you really need me to keep eye on Twilight and Faust, some more. It is so nice to have her back. Well, not back-back, since she hasn’t come to visit us yet. But, you know, where we can see her?’

Even with all her centuries of practice, it was impossible for Celestia to withhold the wild joy that burned through sinew and soul. Her heart tumbled and sped, wings gave the slightest of trembles, and a radiant grin spread from her eyes to encompass all her being.

Her composure verged on the precipice of utter destruction, an almost foalish squeal building, her eyes glowing like she were a filly on her first Hearth’s Warming Day, and wings oh-so-close to fluffing out. She bit it back, swallowed the squeal, tightened her face so it hovered somewhere between a smile and scowl, and held her wings tighter to her sides.

‘We are going to have a discussion about this later, love,’ Celestia said along her private connection to Sol as Lord Parallax resumed his theatrics, with far greater bluster after Sol’s little display.

There was almost a visible shudder from the sun. Sol had the decency to give an embarrassed series of apologies before her attention fully swung back to Manehatten, and that peculiar clan of ponies that had stolen so much of her attention the past century.

It took all her restraint not to end court right there and fly off across the disc.

It was going to be a long few hours of mundanity before she’d be able to slip away. For the first time in a long, long time, Celestia knew impatience. The gnawing in her stomach, the restless energy trickling down her back and into her legs, it was… almost novel.

Internally shaking her head, Celestia settled in for a longer than normal session of court.

Twilight paced back and forth along the Bellerophon’s stern railing. The salty wind blowing through her mane and coat gave her a tangled, wild aspect, like she’d stepped out of the forests of yore that the forgotten ancestors of ponykind had traversed. Her wings ruffled in turn, stretching out a little to catch the breeze, yearning to carry her away from all the troubles that plagued her thoughts.

To the north-east, the coast of Zebrica could be discerned through the miasmic fog. At the top of the crow’s nest, the lookout had an uninterrupted view of hundreds of miles.

“Pacing isn’t going to solve anything, Twi,” Rainbow muttered from where she sat chewing on a large cracker slathered in peanut butter and a stalk of pickled asparagus.

Coming to a sharp halt, Twilight fixed Rainbow with a sour stare. “How can you eat that?”

“You should try some. It’s rather good.” Rainbow offered a cracker to Twilight. Face pinched tight with disgust, Twilight backed away. Shrugging, Rainbow tossed it into her mouth. “So, and I can’t believe I am going to be the one saying this, but; what is eating you today?”

Throwing up her hooves, Twilight exclaimed, “I don’t know!” Her ear twitched, and then an eye, followed by the entire side of her face. “But, something is wrong. I can feel it in my wings.”

“Sky-jitters.” Rainbow concluded, not looking up from her snack. “Just means you want to get up into the big blue for a bit. All pegasi get that. Even Fluttershy from time to time, and you know how she’s practically an earth pony the way she trots everywhere.”

“No, this isn’t that. I think.” Twilight shook her head. “I know this isn’t sky-jitters. There is something else, and I can’t put my hoof on it.” She paced a few more times along the length of the railing. “Maybe Polaris will have some advice.”

“Isn’t that a bit like taking advice from yourself?” Rainbow snorted.

“What? No! Well, technically, I guess, if you follow the logic that the stars are all part of me, and I them. But they are also all individuals and, I don’t think I will ever get the hang of this.” A defeated groan escaped Twilight. “Being a goddess is confusing.” Twilight flopped down next to her friend, and took to watching the crew as they went about their usual routine.

The decks were being scrubbed, and the yardsmares were in the process of shaking out a reef from the topgallants. Up among them, Pinkie’s pink coat stood out all the more, and she moved with practiced ease like she’d spent her entire life at sea. With Twilight on deck, there was an extra crispness to the crew as they worked. Despite the losses on Marelantis, moral was high. Exceptional, really. Even after burying two more of their number just a few hours earlier.

“Princess,” a couple mares tapped a hoof to their broad sennit hats as they passed on their way to the mizzen spanker sheet-ropes. Adoration flashed in their weathered faces, and as they shimmied up the lines, Twilight heard one say to the other, “She’s at it again. Looking out for us, like.”

“Aye,” the second relied gravely, “got to worry though. What could trouble the stars after she dealt with Ol’ Levi?”

Grimacing, Twilight twisted away from the sailors so she didn’t catch the response. Her insides wriggled a little at receiving such undeserved praise. She’d done rather little but blunder into Leviathan’s traps, and only because of Faust everything had turned out as well as it had.

She could have done more. Should have done more. Rarity was dead because of her inaction. Fluttershy grappled with the same issues of ascension as Twilight, but with none of the lessons Twilight received growing up. At least Applejack was unscathed.

Twilight didn’t even want to know what had transpired with Trixie. What Leviathan hoped to gain by showing Twilight’s one-time-rival still eluded her. At least no pony was lost in Sparkledale thanks to… Tyr? Celestia and Luna? Iridia? Perhaps all of them to some extent or another. Again, Twilight didn’t wish to know the details. Only that there wasn’t any lasting damage there, at least.

Worse, her confrontation with Leviathan was hardly the most dire situation she’d ever faced. Discord still took the top of that list. A wave of revulsion for the entity rippled up Twilight’s spine, and it was several more minutes of pacing before she felt composed again.

Sadly, there was no time to enjoy the return of calm before it was hurled over the side of the ship again. Her ears twitched at a growing pressure on the nape of her neck. Wings reflexively extended, and a tingle danced across her back teeth.

Twilight scanned the sky, and settled on a point just off the Bellerophon’s stern when there was the tell-tale crack of air being displaced and Celestia appeared.

Near pandemonium broke out on the deck and in Twilight.

Orders were shouted. The midshipmares snapping to attention where they’d been lounging near the windward rail. The ship swung to port so she’d ride at a steadier angle with only a slight roll. Sails were shifted to support the effort to luff the ship. All this as every pony attempted to stare towards the stern without actually casting an eye in the direction.

Twilight’s prodigious mind went over every possible reason for Celestia to come, in person, to the Bellerophon. Her first assumption, quickly abandoned, settled on the usual question, ‘Did I do something wrong?’ In rapid sequence, this idea was replaced by the worry that the storm she’d subdued had caused enough havoc elsewhere that she needed disciplining. This too was cast aside, as Celestia couldn’t know about that mistake, yet, and worry that she’d been too slow too many days in putting the stars to sleep.

The most obvious answer didn’t even begin formulating before Celestia was settling down through the rigging with all her usual grace.

“Celestia!” Twilight gulped, her wings spreading into a defensive posture she could not contain.

“She’s gone again,” Celestia stated after settling on the deck. “It was too much to hope that I’d at last get to speak to her, after so many centuries. I just don’t understand why she avoids Luna and I. Did she just leave? Or…”

A few blinks, and realization bloomed. Celestia wasn’t there for Twilight at all. She’d come for Faust.

Whom Twilight had forgotten to mention at the funeral.

Or any of the times they’d shifted day and night for the past few weeks.

Panic, which had barely time to start to settle, came back in full force.

Tapping her hooves together, and unable to wrench her gaze off Celestia’s shadow, Twilight gave a sheepish grin. “Uh, a few days ago now, actually. I kind of… used magic to quell a storm, and that might have caused problems elsewhere, and she maybe went to fix my mistake?”

Twilight found herself correcting her earlier assessment; Discord was not the worst crises she’d faced. The disappointment, the slight way Celestia sagged, the glow of excitement melting into a tepid pool of melancholy were far more potent blows.

Mouth dry. Ears pressed back. Twilight didn’t know what to do or say.

It was only a fleeting moment before Celestia regained mastery of her outward emotions. Short enough that Twilight alone noticed the subtle queues from the years she’d known the princess.

Clicking her tongue, Celestia gave her head a slight shake. “Or, that is simply what she wants you to believe, Twilight. She could have prevented you from using your magic if she so chose. No, you’re just an excuse to go off and do something. Mother has always been this way.”

Daring to look at Celestia for more than an anxious glance, Twilight asked, “Y-you’re not angry, are you?”

Celestia’s feathers trembled at the tips just enough for Twilight to know the truth, and there was just the faintest hint of bitterness in her voice as she said, “No. I am disappointed that I allowed myself to get my hopes up, again. Why should this time have been any different. She’s avoided me for nearly sixteen hundred years, after-all.”

“But, I didn’t tell you—”

Celestia held up a hoof to forestall any further explanations, and Twilight fell quiet at once. “It makes no difference. Luna and I had our suspicions already. We’ve been too busy to press you for details of what happened on Marelantis, and gave you the space and time to tell us on your own. You’ve been grieving, and it wasn’t the time to poke and prod you. I really shouldn’t have come.” Celestia shook her head, with far more force than before. “This was a silly, foalish errand from the beginning. Seventeen, seventy, or seventeen hundred; it doesn’t seem to make a difference. Mother is… mother, and I am ever her foalish daughter.”

There seemed to be no other way for Celestia to describe her feelings.

Twilight didn’t know how to respond. Anypony else, and she’d say they needed a hug. But, not Celestia. And not in front of hundreds of eyes.

Not that Celestia seemed to notice the crew and officers of the ship. Even Captain Hardy, prim and proper near the wheel, with attention firmly fixed on the conversation happening just a few feet behind him. They didn’t so much as dare glance further aft than to check the lines of the mizzen staysail. Twilight was not fooled, and it’d have taken several layers of illusion and sound dampening enchantments to attain anything approximating privacy.

Celestia hesitated, then asked, “Has… she asked about Luna or I?”

Putting on a thin, hesitant grin that was closer to a grimace, Twilight said, “She does mention you and Luna. A lot. Well, every now and then. But in a good way! She’s proud of you, I think, but…”

“It isn’t time for our reunion,” Celestia concluded with a heavy sigh. “Does she say anything else?”

“Only about how Rares is still alive,” Rainbow growled from her place a short distance away, and drawing a scathing glare from Twilight.

To Twilight’s surprise, this caught Celestia’s attention entirely. The princess’ ears perked right up, and her eyes widened. Her lips moved to soundless words as she went over some thought. And then she returned to her usual state.

“Interesting. I could look—”

“Rarity is dead! Why can’t anypony accept that?” Twilight snarled, the flaring anger consuming all her anxiety and hesitation.

A small voice in the recesses of her thoughts cried out in shock, a voice that could not overcome the heat crawling along the contours of reason. A subtle current of unease rippled across the Bellerophon, the crew and officers making an extra effort to appear occupied with anything but the conversation happening but a few steps away. Even Hardy turned away, squinting at a blob on the horizon. He, in a voice that both carried yet was unobtrusive gave an order for somepony to get his telescope. Twilight snorted, anger only growing, thin curls of smoke drifting from the tips of her mane and tail.

Celestia did not react beyond lifting one of her perfect brows.

“Hey, at least you got to say goodbye to her, Twi,” Rainbow shot as she got up and marched towards her friend. “Me and Pinkie didn’t even get to do that. You left us here while you sent that astra-project thing.”

“You wouldn’t… If I had…” Twilight’s face scrunched up, the beginning of a crystal tear forming in the corner of an eye. When they snapped open again, there was a hard, red tinge to her usually violet gaze. “The casket was empty, Rainbow! It didn’t matter if either or none of us went. I would have stayed here, but Faust insisted I go. I wish I hadn’t sent that silly astral construct.”

Rainbow rolled her wings in a long shrug and growled. “We’re hurting too, Twilight. But you are so wrapped in your own head to notice.”

Disapproval heavy in her voice, Celestia said, “We all grieve in our own ways.”

Twilight’s head snapped back and Rainbow looked away, her face turning a sharp crimson underneath her coat. Ears falling, anger doused as thoroughly as a candle dropped into the sea, Twilight apologised for how she’d spoken.

“It is alright, Twilight. I’m actually relieved that you don’t believe mother without evidence to support her claims. She is only trying to help, in her own way. Mother is a meddler, afterall. It is unwise to doubt everything she says as equally as it is to trust her at face value.” Celestia bent down just a little to take Twilight in a gentle hug.

The act froze Twilight to the spot. Both at how little Celestia had to duck, and at the unusually tender public display. Nearby, four bells were struck, giving the signal for the changing of the watches. A clamour rose, though one greatly subdued as compared to other times, as one set of ponies went below, and another made their way on deck. Celestia did not so much as bend an ear in their direction, and may as well have been as far removed as Equestria.

Releasing the hug, Celestia looked meaningfully at Twilight. “Take the time to heal your hearts. Rely on your friends, don’t push each other away. Holding such anger as you do is dangerous.”

“I will… I promise.” Twilight rarely gave a less assuring oath, gaze fixed down at the deck, and little life in her voice. She was eternally thankful when Celestia did not press the point further.

Moving towards the railing, Celestia said in parting in a voice meant to be heard by all, though it was hardly necessary, “There is little like a long trip to allow one to clear their mind. I envy you being able to have this escape. Enjoy this time as much as you can, as I am certain that any chance at peace will be lost once you arrive in Zebrica. I’m very proud at all you’ve accomplished already, and have every faith in you. Oh, and I was never here.”

With a sharp snap, Celestia vanished as she teleported back to Canterlot.

Laid on her back, legs tucked up against her stomach, Shyara stared up at the fading night sky. Dawn fast approached, the stars winking out one-by-one as they were ushered to sleep in a twisting wave. It was a rather pretty, if inefficient, display. Coupled with the golden glow along the eastern rim as Sol yawned, it was one of those blissful mornings.

Her mother would have scoffed at such a display. Next to Astraea, Twilight was a rank amatuer. Letting some of the stars dance? Or the constellations play and romp as if they were alive? It was unheard of! The astrologers must be beside themselves trying to decipher the meanings hidden within the stars’ erratic movements.

Arrayed around her, the hemmravn whispered amongst themselves, the twin headed birds voices’ sharp where everything else was soft. They too watched the sky, pointing here and there to particular motions within the constellation draco, or how Orion stalked Ursa Major, before returning to their appointed homes and vanishing until the next night.

Few others noticed the small number of key stars that disappeared during the night amidst all the chaos.

Her own eyes were drawn to the unaccountably dark spaces. Shyara noted Sirius, Mintaka, Rukbat, and the trio that formed Orion’s belt among those who’d vanished before Sol at last rose and the remaining stars went to sleep, painting the sky in cherry pinks, oranges, and then the powdery blue of morning.

“She needs to stop letting them push her around,” Shyara huffed, and rolled to her hooves.

Unbrushed mane dangling over one half her face, Shyara was rather unkempt, and moved with a slouched indifference to her appearance. Mechanical motions brushed away the dew clinging to her back and wings before she headed inside.

Her room had a door to the garden, along with several others in the guest wing. It was one of numerous gardens, really, the palace sporting many large and small from the wide gardens where state functions could be hosted, to a private arboretum for Celestia and her phoenix, a rooftop garden Luna tended, and this garden, situated within a semicircle of rooms intended for the entourages of state guests.

The other rooms were all occupied by the ponies from Ponyville at the moment.

A servant arrived, brushed her mane for her, set her room in order, and then departed with only a few words spoken.

On the corner of the vanity, Trixie’s ratty old hat stared at Shyara.

Picking it up, Shyara said, “Well, we did it. I’m in Canterlot, and ‘safe’. Protected by the princesses. My cousin Tyr is even here, and seems to like these ponies, for some reason I haven’t been able to comprehend. They have so much power, and yet—”

It was at this point the door to her room was tossed open to a cloud of bickering.

“I’m telling you, Luna is the best princess,” Scootaloo growled through clenched teeth as she backed into the room.

“Please, Celestia is the better princess. She kept Equestria safe for a thousand years, alone.” Apple Bloom huffed as she followed her friend through the door. “Luna is nice and all, but she still ain’t found her place in the years since she came back.”

“Because no pony will let her!” Scootaloo’s dwarfish wings buzzed in her agitation. “But, have you read the Book of Selene? She killed at least a dozen demons! No, a hundred! Before she was a princess even! And, she was the one who saved Celestia from Amon at Airey… uh, Aregosy… That place in Esponya.”

Apple Bloom rolled her eyes. “Celestia can fight too! Besides, what does fighting have to do with being a good princess? Celestia is able to lead and govern ponies. She also brings the day, and Sol gives life to all the trees and plants. Selene’s light is too cold.”

“Hey, this is about the princesses, not the sun and moon,” Scootaloo protested. Turning to Shyara, she asked, “What do you think? Who is the better princess? Celestia or Luna?”

Blinking at both the intrusion and question, Shyara fumbled for an answer. She looked over the pair to Sweetie Belle, the third member of the group sitting long faced in the doorway. Sweetie just shrugged, and turned away.

Licking her lips, Shyara said, “Well, I don’t really know either. Both were spoken about with reverence by the ponies I met in the Heartlands, though. They seem to be equals.”

“Aw, come on. You’re supposed to be the tie-breaker,” Scootaloo grumbled. The argument was dropped, however, in favour of breakfast.

As had become custom over the last few weeks since coming to the palace, Shyara took her breakfast out on the patio in the garden. She didn’t like being so close to Celestia and the other Iokan alicorns, preferring the solitude the garden provided.

Or, used to provide.

Though they’d only been in the palace a few days, the Cutie Mark Crusaders all ate with Shyara. Sweetie Belle pushed her toast around her plate, eating only a few, tiny bites. Scootaloo and Apple Bloom tucked right into their cereal. Shyara prefered a fruit known as a kiwi. The mix of sour and sweet tingled on her tongue.

The Crusaders’ parents and guardians came and went, and then it was just the four fillies.

Shyara chewed on the end of her mane, unsure what to do or say.

Scootaloo and Apple Bloom resumed their bickering, though the topic kept shifting. The two just liked to argue for the sake of the argument, finding common joy in their differences. Sweetie stared off into space.

Turning to Sweetie, Shyara tried to say something. Nothing came, however, and she gave up on the idea.

Getting to know the trio was pointless. They were mortals, and even if they should live to ripe old ages, they’d still leave her. She wrapped her legs tight around her sides and tried to suppress a shudder.

“Good morning!” Iridia called in a song-song voice as she burst onto the patio. There was a wide, dangerous smile on the elder goddess’ face, one that lit up her eyes in a way Shyara knew meant trouble. “Come on girls, we’re going on a little adventure!”

Book Two: Chapter Four: Lost Dreams

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duties and Dreams
Chapter Four: Lost Dreams

Soft light splashed across the desk where Soir sat slumped, staring at the math problems before her. Eyes scratchy and red, she fought back yet another yawn. The numbers swam across the page, twirling around one another and leaving equation signs in their wake like they were bumpy sea dragons.

The homework should have been easy, little more than basic multiplication, but math had always stymied Soir. She knew how to do it, or felt that she did. Still, the answers stubbornly evaded her. When she did manage to pin something down, it was almost always wrong.

Sadly, magic and math were irrevocably interlinked. Equations in one transposing into the other. Her inability to solve a simple sequence of multiplications translating into an utter lack of talent in the other. Talent! There was a cruel joke. Even with her cutie mark, she couldn’t cast more than the most basic spells.

“I’m the worst unicorn, ever,” she grumbled, slamming her face into her desk in a futile attempt to jar answers loose.

“Honey, you alright?” came Jardin’s voice from downstairs.

Soir’s response came in the form of a long, plaintive whine.

Sliding off her cushions, and dragging her hooves, she made her way to the kitchen and her mother. With no servants or maids, it was upto Jardin to do the cooking, not that she seemed to mind. She hummed to herself as she cooked, tail swishing and moving with a lightness to her step between the ice box, counter, and stove.

At least, that was how it used to be. There was a sullen stiffness to Jardin now as she worked on a simple carrot stew. Her knife had an extra bite, quick, precise, forceful. Tension echoed between her jaws and ears. Jardin didn’t look up or smile as Soir entered the kitchen, either.

“Running away won’t solve your homework,” Jardin quipped as Soir took a seat at the table.

“And I won’t, either.” Soir flailed her hooves above her head. “Was it this difficult for you?”

Jardin hesitated, mouth pressed into a tense line. After a few moments she said, “We’re all different, honey. It’ll come to you, in time. You just have to keep at it.”

A long silence entered the kitchen with only the bubbling pot and occasional groans from Soir to fill it.

“Why don’t you go out and play in the yard for a bit. Maybe some exercise will help.”

“I thought I was grounded until the next age,” Soir mumbled into the table.

“You are,” Jardin shot over her withers, “but, I’ve asked Mother Framboise over for tea, and she’s graciously accepted. If you could do some weeding, I’d be grateful.”

Soir’s eyebrows shot up.

The abbot was coming to visit them? She almost wanted to stay just to listen. It would be boring, though. Adult pony stuff, or discussions about… something to do with Faust, no doubt. Nothing that would interest Soir. And if she were to stick around, they would make her sit and pretend to be a perfect little statue, completely still and silent.

“Okay,” Soir said as she jumped up and dashed outside, adding a hurried, “Anything is better than math.”

Free and clear under sun, Soir crossed their short yard to the rows of planters in the garden. Snap Beans, sweet potatoes, eggplants, and tomatoes filled planters going up the short hill behind the house. In previous years, lettuces, cabbages, and cauliflower had also been grown. With the draughts, their planters had been given over to the less water reliant plants.

Humming as she worked, time soon slipped from Soir as the weeds piled up in neat little stacks. A line of daisies were laid to make a little lane between the piles, allowing ants and beetles to scuttle along. Her trawl swished through the dirt, leaving small furrows, like miniature rivers in the loose, dry soil. Soir giggled, feeling like a giant. Changing motions, she began to draw a little map. The stems of wildflowers denoted rivers, pieces of dry grass roads through rolling hills. Leaves gathered from a nearby tree became lakes and the ocean, and a pinecone a lonely mountain.

Soir plucked daisy petals and placed the yellow divisions of unicornian infantry in neat lines and rows in a semicircle next to one of the rivers. Small stones were added on the opposite bank, Griffonia’s Marangian Guard on the advance towards the left flank of the ponies. Soir began to hum an old marching tune, left hoof keeping the cadence.

She pulled the infantry back. They had to protect their center from the cavalry. Archers were added, hidden in a line of trees. The marching tune faltered, replaced by the whistling and clicking of the archers loosing their arrows. Soir repositioned the armies again.

Now, the Marangian Guard had crossed the river, and the ponies were hard pressed and about to be encircled. If they did not get a miracle, then the griffons would over-run them, and all Unicornia would be open to invasion.

The ponies began to break, their lines collapsing.

Soir looked around, and picked up a shiny white pebble. She placed Celestia with care among a set of hidden ponies further back. A charge was sounded! Reinforcements raced up and hit the Marangian’s flank.

Her hoof came down, scattering the stones.

Blinking, Soir tilted her head and frowned at the destruction.

It was wrong. Two things at once, yet neither.

She began to rearrange the map again, but stopped at the sound of voices coming from the window. Leaving her game, Soir slunk along the side of the cottage and sat down beneath the window. Eavesdropping was wrong, but she was too curious to know why Mother Framboise would visit.

“Her outbursts are getting worse, Mum,” Jardin sighed, and there was a slight pause. “I wish Algol had told me about what I was agreeing to.”

Mother Framboise chuckled, a rattling sound with more in common with a cough than a laugh. “From what we know of her, it is not like you had a choice in the matter. Soir was entrusted to you. If Faust had thought another better suited, she would have made certain it was her in that field that night, rather than you.”

“That is what I tell myself, but, I worry, and wonder, did She make a mistake?”

A shriek from the kitchen interrupted them, the conversation lulling as Jarden left to retrieve the tea kettle.

Soir couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

Yet, she could not conjure a reason for the lies. Jardin was speaking in confidence with the abbot of the monastery. Already, it was strange enough that such an esteemed pony would deign to visit commoners.

Heart beating hard enough she worried Jardin would hear each thump, Soir held her breath as her mother returned with the tea and the conversation resumed.

“I don’t know what to do, Mother Framboise.” Cutlery clinked, spoons stirring honey into the little tea Jardin possessed.

“Faust does not give us trials we are incapable of overcoming. You will succeed.” Mother Framboise paused, took a sip of her tea, then continued. “How much does she know?”

“Nothing. How would I explain? She is just a filly… And the way she acts. She knows things she should not. I caught her mixing hellebore into a drink, crushing the seeds with the edge of a knife to squeeze out the poisons. She said she’d done it before to help fillies with horn rot sleep. How could she know such things?”

“You shouldn’t fret, Miss Reves. All is as Faust intends.”

“I’ve tried everything to calm her. To teach her right from wrong, but… She’s just a bad seed. She’s always fighting, always getting into trouble. The other fillies hate her, and she hates them in turn. I’ve failed. I was supposed to keep her safe. I’ve tried. Faust knows, I’ve tried. But, I grow more worried for the other foals. She could have crippled Bella! Then where would we be? What would I have done? House Trembler would have run us out of town. They already hate me. I… I think a mistake was made entrusting Soir to me.”

“If it is your wish, the monastery will take care of her.”

Soir’s breath hitched in her throat. Her heart beat faster, thoughts swirling tighter, ears straining to catch what was said next.

“I… I don’t… perhaps… It might be best. For her. For us both.”

The disc fell out from beneath Soir. She staggered away from the wall and stumbled through the dry garden.

Tears began to cloud her vision as she abandoned the garden and turned down the narrow lane away from town. Her pace varied from languid plodding to almost galloping, accompanied by choked sobs and inarticulate growls. Soir’s heart was torn open. Visions of marching home and yelling at her mother blended with those of them wrapped in each others hooves in tearful confessions.

Each time she began to turn back, the cut of betrayal stayed her hooves, and the wound grew deeper, and the tears grew thicker.

She didn’t understand.

Jardin wasn’t her mother…

Jardin didn’t want her…

No! Soir gave her head a sharp shake to dislodge the idea. It was a lie. It had to be a lie. Jardin was all she knew. She was her mama and had been there always.

But had she? A sinister whisper twisted within her aching chest.

She retreated from the idea, unable or unwilling to look at what lay beyond. The questions posed were each a thorn forming a bramble barrier. A violent tremble coursed from tail to nose and left her dazed.

She misheard. That was the answer. The words had been a little garbled going through the window, and she had twisted them in her mind.

But, what else could her mother have meant? And, she was afraid of her! For the other foals, no less.

Anger burned through dark sorrow like Sol casting out the night, and Soir had to grit her teeth to hold back a violent scream.

They were not the victims! They were not the ones who deserved pity and concern.

Why did her mother worry for them?

Because, Jardin wasn’t her real mother, but some pony on whom she’d been foisted.

Imagined brambles re-appeared, and again Soir refused to plunge into their depths.

Around and around her mind went, skipping off the surface of her fears.

All alone in her thoughts, Soir hardly noticed when her hooves found the overgrown path leading towards the old ruins outside of town. Branches grabbed at her mane and were swatted aside with unconscious flickers of magic, barely more than a puff of aether. As the ivy covered walls came into view Soir turned down the same trail her mother had years before. Her head low, she saw only the ground at her hooves until she reached the charred edge of grass.

Blinking a few times, Soir looked around and at last realised where she’d wandered.

“Oh, Luna!” Soir hissed through her teeth, breath catching in her throat.

Every worry, all the pain that’d carried her hooves fled, driven into the corners by a greater, physical dread. All the foals knew to stay away from the ruins, that ponies who ventured onto the cursed ground were never seen again. Monsters and beasts were pale shadows next to the ruins themselves. Tales whispered beneath moonless nights told of a terrible ghost that haunted the mountains, how the breath of the living would draw it screeching from its sleep, howling and rushing through the trees like a glowing shadow. The ground would swallow the unwary, the forest shift and change so fillies would wander in endless circles, unable to escape, always returning to the ruins, forever lost.

Her coat prickled as imaginary eyes stared out of the trees. Ghosts lingered in the little clearing, old magic heavy in the air, and a wild current she could only just discern. A nicker broke through the building terror, and she scampered back until she was half in the trees and half the clearing.

Laughter, faint as it came through the still air, touched her ears. Soir blinked, and when her eyes opened it was not the old woods and clearing she saw, but a lush, vibrant garden replete with flower beds, and a wide pond surrounded by statues and hedgerows with a red brick manor looming in the short distance.

She recognized these gardens. How many nights had she wandered their winding paths in her dreams? Every path was so familiar, each flower engrained on her heart. The scent of flowers she could not name caressed her face with comforting fingers. A glowing gold light fell in thick curtains between tree trunk and through canopy, wrapping her in a tender warmth.

The laughter came again, louder, along with the faint drumbeat of hooves coming as if from a great distance away through mist and over rolling hills in the moonlight. Curiosity overriding sense, Soir edged through the garden until she came to a field. Two ponies, their shapes indistinct and blurred, chased each other and froliked in the tall grass. The larger of the pair pinned the other, and gave a warbling, indecipherable boast. A petulant whine came from the other, and they broke apart, then vanished like mist caught in a wind, the garden following with them.

Soir stared at the renewed woods, a thick knot of uncertainty twisting her insides. Truth hung in the air, the truth of her past kept hidden by her false mother. It waited almost within reach.

This time, she pushed through the brambles in her mind. She needed answers. She needed to know.

Her hooves began to move of their own accord again. Whispers grew thicker than the trees pressing in around her, twisting and twirling, beckoning her with crooked gestures. A laugh, a yell, somepony singing, low chants; these and more tickled her ears. As the whispers grew, they were joined by haunting scents. Fresh bread, lavender and lilac perfumes, beeswax candles burning deep into the night, wet mane and grass after a rain drifted beside the whispers.

Drawn deeper, Soir made her way to a narrow cleft in the mountain behind the ruins. A dank chill made her shiver, her breath coming in a thick puff. Instincts screamed for her to turn back, to flee and find safety in the embrace of her blankets and Luna dolly. Her hooves scraped on the loose, barren gravel.

She did not run, pulled onward by the need to know. Legs trembling, she slid deeper into the cleft. After a few lengths, the passage widened and turned into a shallow cave.

Here the magic was thickest. Black scars marred the stone in criss-cross patterns of some ancient casting circle. Four deep gouges slashed from the top of the cave to the back, the stone thick and puckered where it’d melted. At the heart of the devastation sat a marker cracked with age.

Unable to turn away, Soir crossed the cave, each step wracking her with ever greater dread.

She raised a hoof to brush away the dust, and then froze at the deep rumble of a voice.

“What do you make of all this, Hades?”

Silence answered the question.

Panicking, Soir darted a look around the empty cave but found no place to hide. She stood frozen, petrified, glued to the spot.

“Ha-ha-ha! Of course not! I meant, why didn’t we notice it before now?”

Now, the disinterested and slithering voice of Hades reached Soir’s ears. “Somepony has gone to great effort to keep this area hidden, no doubt so the mortals would not intrude. Because we were not looking for a site such as this, it evaded our detection. That is all, brother.”

“Pah, you’re no fun.”

Zeus was the first to enter the cave, his head lowered just enough to avoid bumping into the low ledge. He was almost standing atop of Soir when he stopped. Laughing blue eyes darted around the cave, ghosting over Soir as if she wasn’t even there.

He let out a long whistle as he was joined by Hades. “My, my, no wonder they try to keep this place hidden. You know anything about this?”

Hades shook his head. “Why do you persist in asking that question? This is as new to me as it is you, Zeus.”

“You are telling me that a crime such as this escaped your notice?” Zeus snorted and began to wander around the cave, skirting the outer edge of the ancient casting circle.

“It escaped you, as well. Though, that is hardly unusual, now is it?” Hades sneered. He began to say more, than caught his tongue. Smacking his lips as if he’d tasted something foul, he took a few steps back. “The curse on the place is powerful.”

“Aye, I can sense it trying to worm its way into my thoughts.” Zeus bobbed his head. “This is naught like what was done on Gaea. A god didn’t just die here, but lingered in death. It is corrupted beyond redemption. We should topple the mountain and burry this place for all time.”

Soir blinked a few times, at a loss as to why she was being ignored. She could reach out and touch Zeus, he was so close.

“It is worse than that.” Hades scuffed a hoof, upper lip curling to show his teeth. “The Veil is thin, distorted and ripped. I can smell portions of it leaking even now into this world. A single curse could not cause this damage. This took many, one atop the other. You cannot bury this problem beneath a mountain and hope it will go away. ”

“Bah, we will deal with this another day. It has sat untended for over a thousand years, if I were to guess. It can wait a little longer while we gather a greater understanding of what has occurred on this world. This could be one wound among many. We need to find Iridia and Faust.” Zeus waved a hoof and marched from the cave, followed closely by Hades.

Soir remained in the cave a while, heartbeating heavy in her chest, breath as quick as if she’d run a marathon. She did not know why, but the stallions filled her with dread, and not just through the fear of being caught. Turning over what they’d said about curses and dead gods in her head, Soir slowly crept from the cave.

Noon had come and gone, Sol well on her way westward as the afternoon grew old. Soir stifled a curse. Her mother would have noticed her missing by now.

She hurried along the path back towards town. It wasn’t until she’d crossed the town square that Soir first slowed, and then came to a stop.

Mouth dry, and head swirling with a flurry of contradicting emotions, Soir didn’t notice Zeus and Hades’ approach until she was blanketed fully in their shadow. Gulping, Soir jumped up and tried to scamper away, only to bump into the fountain’s edge.

“Ho there, little one,” rumbled Zeus, his thick hoof shooting out to block her path. “What is the hurry?”

“I-I’m running away from home,” Soir blurted, then winced. Great, now she was going to get taken back for sure.

And she wasn’t even certain that was her plan. Or, not-plan.

“Ah, off to seek adventure and fame! Forging a legend for yourself. A noble goal.” Zeus nodded and let out a pleased grunt. “But, where is your spear and shield? Have you no travel rations, or do you intend to forage off the land? Ah, yes, that must be it. Makes for a more gruelling journey. The greater the trials, the greater the glory, after all.”

An exasperated noise rattled in Hades’ throat. “That is not what she meant, brother. When ponies ‘run from home’, it is because they are seeking a parent's attention. Typically, it is a tactic of the young. My little Artemis used to run off frequently into the city and surrounding wastes. Once I found her trying to make a house in Cerberus’ cave, nestled on his back. She’d braided pink ribbons and beads into his shaggy fur. The poor hound was traumatised. Probably why he keeps running off to other worlds now.”

“Indeed?” Zeus scratched at his chin and sent a narrowed glare up at the sky. “I’ve never had that problem. My foals were more likely to flee from an embarrassment of too much attention, never too little. They have all been precious and the joy of my heart.”

“Yet, they all abandoned you.” Hades retorted.

“Ha! They sought to make their own domains, and their father is proud. Whether Slaughter or—Where are you going?”

As the stallions rambled, Soir attempted to slip away. She’d barely gone a few steps before she was flanked by the pair. “I have my own problems. Go away. I don’t need crazy foreigners.”

“I am not a foreigner. I am Zeus! King of the Gods! Lord of Thunder and Storms and Lightning! Bringer of Calamity and Laughter in equal measure. All lands on all worlds are under my purview. Ha-ha-ha!”

Behind his brother, Hades groaned and dragged a hoof over his face.

Soir blinked up at the crazy stallion, then promptly turned around to stomp off. Nothing was as far from her mind as dealing with the intrusions of strangers. Zeus, in particular, was far too chipper, his laughter like sandpaper on her nerves, his smile like lemon juice poured on a cut. She managed only a few steps before a black wing halted her escape.

She blinked at the midnight feathers. Followed them to where they met the swell of Hades’ withers, trailed up his neck, and settled on the cracked horn thrusting through his limp ghostly mane.

Mouth falling open, Soir took a few quick steps back, and came into contact with Zeus’ thick leg.

“I thought we agreed to stay hidden so we could observe the locals without being fawned over.” Zeus snorted, and his own illusions fell away.

“This coming after you so casually give your litany of titles?” Hades smirked.

Underneath the black god’s gaze, Soir shivered. A chill seeped through her coat, and her insides twisted with primal dread. They were alicorns. Like the princesses. But, kings? Were they the princesses’ fathers? Their crazy talk in the cave and moments earlier made a lot more sense, now.

As did their aura of danger, all the more potent now they’d dropped the illusions concealing their true nature.

Ears pressed back, Soir shrunk into a tight ball. All around her the town square came to a crashing halt. Ponies stared. They could not look away.

There was a whip-crack that broke the silence, sending up a smattering of oaths and whinnies of fright. The crowd scattered, reorganised, and formed a wider circle.

Zeus and Hades turned away from Soir, and between them she beheld Faust.

The Queen of All Ponies stood, eyes aflame with indignation, hooves planted wide as if she were about to charge.

“Intruders,” Faust hurled the word as she would a spear. “You interfere in events not meant for you. Leave my world.”

After much careful deliberation, Gilda had come to the conclusion that there was no place on the disc worse than a jungle. It was hot and sticky, the humid air so thick in her throat it felt like she was on the verge of drowning. Mud caked her legs and undersides. Her back was sore from carrying all the provisions. Oh, and hanging upside down from her staff, legs bound by thick ropes, carried like a fresh kill didn’t help.

Next to her, similarly bound, Zubu took their capture with far greater humour.

“Do not worry, cat-bird, if they were going to kill us, they would have done so right away. This a good sign.” He tried to grin, but the effect was lost beneath his scarlet face and dangling ears. The ropes lashed beneath his squat body to support his weight in lieu of his mangled leg did not help.

Prancing along beside Zubu, Orenda laughed. “You should have listened to me,” she said in a sing-song voice.

“Why is she free?” Gilda snapped, indicating Orenda with a shake of her head.

“Because I am a spirit, and they can’t see me,” rejoined Orenda, and to prove her point, she darted back and forth in front of the long coppery legs of their captors.

A low, rumbling laugh, like a wagon trundling through a narrow street followed Orenda’s declaration. She smiled up at the nearest of the apes. A big, toothy grin that only got wider as a copper hand large as her head came down and tousled her ears.

The ‘White Ape’ laughed louder as Orenda said, “Well, most of them can’t see me.”

Gilda glared at Orenda, letting the fierce gaze speak for her.

Since their capture by the apes, Gilda had learned a few things about the creatures spoken of with such fear among griffonkind. That they were not white in the least, and that the legends, if anything, downplayed their prowess. They moved through the jungle as if they were one with it, flowing up the broad trunks, leaping from branch to branch, or simply emerging from foliage like ghosts.

They were tall creatures, upright and with a lean strength. In the sweltering, humid heat of the jungle, they wore little save loose skirts cut off at the knees. Their copper and mahogany skin and thick manes of wiry, black hair, plaited down hairless backs, shone with sweat and oil. Strong, nimble fingered hands gripped short spears topped with barbed bronze heads with leather shields hanging from the other arm. How they could move with such ease standing on only a single pair of such lanky and awkward legs confounded Gilda.

The closest Gilda could compare where minotaurs. Yet, even they fell short. The ‘White Apes’ seemed not to so much as walk as to roll forward in a perpetual fall, always catching themselves at the last second. If she’d not seen them motionless with her own eyes, she’d have sworn it impossible. Nothing should move in such a manner, and it sent confused tendrils rippling down Gilda’s spine.

But, it was their smell that drove fear into Gilda.

They stank of death and decay in a way that only came from habitual consumption of meat. What should have been a familiar odor became gut churning in its overwhelming pervasiveness. The heavy musk, sweat, and grease, when mixed with the saffron and other spices used to flavour their meals, created a pungent cloud. It overpowered everything else, crawling up her nose until it was all she could smell.

Hunters, it was not just Gilda and Zubu they carried, but a boar they’d killed.

Much like Gilda and Zubu, the boar hung from a pole carried between a pair of hunters. It’s head lolled on a broken neck, tongue dangling, with glassy eyes open. How many of the White Apes were out in the jungle eluded Gilda. Getting an accurate count was impossible, but she figured there were no more than a dozen.

“You are fortunate, eh,” the large ape leading the party said. “The Holy One commanded you be taken alive, otherwise,” he indicated the boar with an inclination of his chin.

Gilda could only gape. The ‘White Ape’ spoke Equestrian, with a slight Crystal City accent, if anything.

“Did she now?” Zubu called, lifting his head a bit. “This is good. Zubu would ask her guidance on sneaking into Zerubaba. Empress is up to something. Can’t be good for White Apes if she succeeds.”

The White Ape shrugged, shifted his spear, and dropped his free hand to the curved blade held in a sash on his hip.

All at once the jungle parted, and Gilda found herself staring up at a statue of Faust covered in vines.

Beyond the statue lay the precipice of a great sinkhole in the jungle’s heart. Over a mile in diameter, the sinkhole was filled with fields centered around a small lake. Within that lake sat an island, and on that island a temple of white colonnades and a copper roof. Along the walls, built so as to seem like rock formations and caves to a distant eye, lay the city of the White Apes, Phoenicia.

The namesake magical birds burst into flocks of orange and gold, wheeling through the air, swirling down to brush tail feathers over the heads of playing children.

Down into this hidden city Zubu and Gilda descended, unsure if they’d ever climb out of shadowed depths.

No matter how much she tried, Twilight could not relax. Despite having a nice cushion beneath an awning in the aft-port quarter of the poop deck, a pleasantly warm breeze, and a tray of coffee with little, triangular cut sandwiches on which to nibble, it was wholly impossible to dismiss the nagging voices. Mostly due to them hanging in the awning, twinkling as they nestled among the fluttering velvet fabric.

“I see why you like it down here, Siri,” Rukbat rumbled, her deep voice carrying across the deck. Sirius didn’t respond from her place at the awnings edge. “But, where are the dragons? I was promised dragons. Big gold queens. Flashy bronze lords. Wise browns, and darting greens! Oh, I just love dragons!”

Twilight’s eye twitched. She tried hard to concentrate on the copy of A Sea Officer’s Guide to Sheets and Lines she’d been leant by Miss Navigator. A futile effort, as a smattering of laughter tittered back and forth between the stars just above her head.

Fully a dozen stars, having decided to take it upon themselves to keep her company, had snuck out of her mane in the night and hidden until after Sol rose. On being discovered, the entire disappearance of Orion’s belt was hard to miss, the stars begged, pleaded, attempted bribery, issued a few threats, and eventually pouted until Twilight relented and agreed to let them stay for one day. Her single stipulation, that they remain nearby, was her second mistake.

“Dragons are unfriendly brutes,” sniffed Arrakis. “I should know. I am in the constellation of Draco. No, we should find some pixies or humans. They have such wonderful dances.”

“Here we go again.” Rukbat groaned.

Wrapping the fabric around herself, Arrakis glimmered brightly. “Oh, yes! The way they swish their hips and can kick their feet over their heads. Or shimmy and sashay, draped in gossamer silks and gold and beaded jewels. Twirling, darting hither and yawn, a leap into the night! Caught by a partner, and then spun about! I wish I could dance like that.”

“Yes, well, we were causing problems for the ponies trying to navigate,” Twilight said, turning an unread page of gibberish and nonsensical diagrams. “And you are allowed to dance still, just not all the time like before.”

“I waited so long for you so I could dance though,” Arrakis whined. “And now it’s all rules and do-this, don’t-do-that. Dancing needs freedom! It needs to flow from the soul. To cage a dancer is to cage a bird. The heart stifles, withers, and the will is lost.”

“Are we certain Arrakis isn’t the Melodrama Star?” called Rukbat, drawing a frustrated raspberry from her sister.

Puffing up, Arrakis shouted, “Yes. Well, maybe I will just Fall then!”

A gasp shook the other stars, their lights growing bright in their surprise. Twilight was hit by their combined fear and hurt like she’d been bucked in the stomach. She groaned through clenched teeth, legs curled protectively underneath herself.

Light swiftly changing from an ugly orange to a soft blue, Arrakis darted down on a trail of apologies. “I didn’t mean it, mistress. I would never Fall! I spoke thoughtlessly. How could I leave you just when you’ve finally joined us? Such a stupid, mean thing to say. Please, forgive me.” She darted up to Twilight’s cheek, light tingling the skin beneath.

“I’m alright. You just caught me off guard.” Twilight tried to sound reassuring, and she supposed it worked, as Arrakis brightened, flitted up to kiss Twilight’s cheek, and then zipped off back to her sisters. For the next hour the other stars rebuffed Arrakis, teased her, and darted about like foals in a field as she gave chase.

“How often do stars fall?” Twilight wondered, half to herself, and half to the disc at large. She didn’t really expect an answer. With a dozen of her precious stars so close, she should have known better.

“Not often,” said Arcturus, the Stormstar, floating over to rest on the tray next to Twilight. In a lecturing tone similar to the one Twilight used so often herself, Arcturus intoned, “The last to fall of her own choice was Wynn, the Dervishstar. She, and a dozen others, chose to join Luna in her crusades to protect ponykind of those who sought to enslave them. They called themselves the Valla, and stayed by Luna’s side until she betrayed our trust and stole Zana from her sisters, and we stars became divided in our loyalties. Sirius, Ankaa, Phad, and Antares lead a hundred of our sisters, and became the Moon-Stars. It wasn’t until the emergence of Nightmare Moon that the others began to wane in their support. As our once beloved Luna fell further into madness, and tore more of our sisters from the heavens, forging them into lowly beasts to hurl at Celestia, more and more stars abandoned her until only four remained. They are the most loyal of us, it would seem.”

Twilight listened with rapt attention, book forgotten. “What happened to those who fell?”

“Many things. Almost all have long since passed into the mists of history. The beasts created by the Nightmare slumber in distant corners of the disc, or wild untamed places where ponies won't disturb them. All the Valla are dead. Some stood with Celestia against the Nightmare, and were struck down. Others fell in the times before or since. I know of only one fallen star who yet lives. And, she is the worst among us.”

Taken aback by the venom in Arcturus’ voice, Twilight nearly hesitated to ask the fallen star’s name.

“Algol,” Arcturus spat the name, and all the games of her sisters came to a sharp end. “In times long past, she was known as the Dreamstar, but that is a name few even among us stars remember. All know her now as the Demonstar. The great betrayer. The first star to ever fall.”

A smattering of oathes and curses came from the other stars, and, in her deep rumble, Rukbat said, “She is a dark and twisted thing now. For the longest time we all thought her dead, slain by Wynn after she sided with your mother in the Long Winter. Rage, grief, and so long spent on the disc have warped her, driven her into madness.”

“But, she is a star? Doesn’t that make her my responsibility?” Twilight swung her gaze across the twinkling cloud around her.

“She has long since cast aside any claim to being one of us,” Rukbat growled, her ruddy light turning a simmering red.

Her sisters agreed in a rolling chorus, and then they broke apart, returning either to their previous games or more pleasant discussions. None wished to discuss their fallen sisters further, and after a time, even Arcturus drifted away.

Putting her book aside, Twilight took to peering at the coast of Zebrica, a long line of green hills and rocky shores, broken here and there by fishing villages that made their livelihoods on the pearls to be found in their waters. With trade to and from Zebrica halted but for the black marketeers and smugglers, the few zebrican pearls that made it to the markets of Equestria and the Old Queendoms fetched an exorbitant price. A few such pearls were enough for an entire village to subsist on for a month.

Just after the noon bells, a pair of low hulled brigs appeared out of a narrow bay. Excitement gripped the ship, eager eyes peering towards the two boats as they raced acant the wind to fetch Bellerophon’s wake. They pulled up alongside, striped faces peering up and up the sloped sides of the much, much larger vessel. Somepony—zebra—called out, “Who goes there?” in deeply accented Prench. After a few moments to puzzle out the question, Fighting Spirit replied, she having the watch, in her booming, naval voice across the fifty yards. There followed a brief exchange, and the Bellerophon was directed to steer a little further south to avoid some shoals not on her charts.

As they parted, the brig called out, “Stars be with you,” to which Fighting Spirit replied, “Oh, she is,” setting off a smattering of chuckles across the deck, and the cry of the bo’s’un to, “Mind your fucking duty, bunch of jack-jawed layabouts.”

Twilight’s ears burned red, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Arrakis make to dart across the water. The star made it only a short way before Twilight sharply called her name.

“I just wanted to thank them for invoking us,” Arrakis huffed as she floated back to Twilight.

Rebuffing the star, Twilight noticed Sirius had vanished from among the awning in the commotion. Stifling a curse under her breath, Twilight cast her senses wide in search of the troublesome star. She needn't have bothered, Sirius up near the long lavender pennant streaming ahead of the Bellerophon. Arcturus joined her brighter sister, the two flashing as they spoke in tight whispers. Several minutes passed, worried flickers coming off Arcturus.

At Twilight’s call, the stars drifted back down to the deck.

“Mistress, there is a storm growing in the north,” Arcturus said when she asked what they were doing. Her light shone and shimmered in anxious ripples, and she seemed to tighten like she were curling in a ball. Twilight could not see any storms to the north. There was hardly a cloud that glorious day. “Somepony is making a big storm. A very big one.”

“Well, I’m sure the pegasi of the region will get it under control,” Twilight offered and picked her book back up.

“Few nations beyond Equestria and Hackney have the numbers of pegasi to control the weather, much less organised Weather Management Offices. Even the pegasi of the eastern plains don’t bother,” Fleur said, shaking her head as she crossed the deck. “Prance has suffered drought the last few years as all her young pegasi are drafted for the war effort.”

“Well, why doesn’t Prance just not conscript them?” Twilight could not keep the accusation out of her tone.

A sad smile weighed on Fleur’s features. “And have no fliers when Hackney next attacks? It is not ideal, and there is no good answers, mon amie. We are not all blessed to be sheltered by Celestia from our enemies, real or imagined.”

“Equestria isn’t that sheltered,” Twilight protested, but there was little strength to her rebuttal.

She tried to formulate a new argument, press her point from a better angle, but she lacked the knowledge of Prance and her situation to have enough confidence in any such endeavour. For a few seconds she regretted ignoring politics and modern history. The moment passed, and Twilight instead resorted to a weary grunt and staring off towards the north.

Her stars drew in closer, Arcturus taking on a more and more worried light.

“Right, come with me,” Iridia called out as she hurled open the doors to Fluttershy’s room. She was not surprised at all to find Fluttershy sprawled out on a lounge next to the open doors of the balcony. Likewise, the plethora of birds and beasts resting on perches around the room were anticipated. The vines creeping in through the windows, coiling over the bedposts and dressers, up the walls and down the light fixtures were a small shock, however.

Letting out a little eep, Fluttershy curled further into her leafy hideaway. “I w-would rather not, if that is alright.”

Sweeping further into the room, Iridia let out a short laugh. “Fie, take it from an expert on such matters; moping doesn’t help anything. Now, up. We have far to go.”

“Go?” Fluttershy repeated, lifting her head just a little. “As in, outside? Oh, I’d rather not.”

“Not just outside, but to the Taiga.” Iridia wore a broad grin as she shooed away the birds, squirrels, and an otter.

Still not moving from her lounge, Fluttershy asked, “D-does Princess Celestia know about this?”

“I do not need to ask my niece permission to help one of my daughter’s friends through a difficult transition.” Iridia tutted softly, grabbed hold of Fluttershy, and pulled her up. She gave a mischievous laugh, overpowering Fluttershy’s struggles. “Besides, Cadence asked for me to help out. She seems to think there is more going on than meets the eye with you.”

Fluttershy ceased her resistance, face pasty beneath her coat so she looked like a wilted dandelion. The utter lack of guile did not surprise Iridia. Fluttershy was always her favourite among Twilight’s friends, and not just because she lived away from everypony else on the edge of an old, untamed forest. It was Fluttershy’s open, honest kindness overtop of a steel core that commanded Iridia’s admiration. Fluttershy held many hidden strengths, but deception was not among them.

“Fie, at least make it a challenge,” Iridia chided softly, bopping Fluttershy on the nose before hurrying her from the room. Just before shutting the door, Iridia looked back, and wondered, “Should we send for a maid, or a gardener to clean this mess? I’m sure somepony will figure it out.”

Out in the hallways, laden with bulging saddlebags, waited the Cutie Mark Crusaders and Shyara. Sweetie and the later looked glum, while Apple Bloom and Scootaloo both wore large grins.

“W-What are they doing here?” Fluttershy demanded in a creaking voice. “You aren’t stealing fillies, are you? Not that it is wrong… Well, it is. But…” Dropping her gaze, Fluttershy looked away and continued to mutter a few more objections to herself.

Giggling, Iridia pranced behind the fillies and swept them into a hug with her wings. “Stealing? No,” Iridia grinned, “just borrowing them for a bit. It will do them all some good to see a bit of the world. Besides, who could possibly be a better chaperone than the Goddess of Foals herself?” Iridia swept past Fluttershy and indicated that everypony was to follow her.

“But, you’re not the…” Fluttershy lost her words as she grew more flustered, hoof circling a spot on the floor. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I’d rather stay here… If that is alright. And, you can’t just take somepony else’s foals.”

“Well, I can’t make you come,” Iridia shrugged and started off down the corridor, calling, “Come on girls! You’ll love the Taiga. It is like the Everfree but even older and more untamed.”

“Yay!” Apple Bloom and Scootaloo cried together, the pair herding along the less enthused Sweetie and Shyara.

Iridia hid a growing smile as Fluttershy sputtered, shifted from hoof to hoof. Wings ruffled, she called down the corridor, “But, you can’t just take them!”

“Of course I can,” Iridia swung around so she was trotting backwards. “I am a goddess.”

Defeated, head hanging low, Fluttershy hurried to catch up. “Fine, I’ll come. But only to keep an eye on the fillies. You don’t know how much trouble those three can be.”

“Hey, we’re right here, you know,” Scootaloo grumbled, and Iridia ruffled her messy mane.

“Don’t worry, I like trouble.” She winked at the fillies, and started to hum a happy tune as she took the lead of the little procession.

Fluttershy kept trying to argue and dissuade Iridia from taking the fillies all the way down to fields where the halla had set up their camp. Her protests bounced off Iridia, who continued to hum a happy little ditty, swishing her tail and wings bouncing along her sides in anticipation. She was going home, and the thought filled her with surprising joy. All the more so for the realization that Thornhaven was where her heart truly lay.

Coming onto the field, all activity among the Halla ceased. Wide eyes gazed on their goddess for a heartbeat before they fell to their knees in supplication.

“Grandmaster River Sparkle,” Iridia called in High Halla as she entered the heart of the camp.

Emerging from her tent, River was alone among the halla in her refusal to bow. There was a brief inclination of the head, and then silence as she waited.

“It is unbecoming of my representatives to Equestria to camp in the palace gardens. You are, therefore, to take the herd to Sparkledale for the time being. Enlist the aid of Baroness Sparkle in setting up a proper hold. Find some place either near Sparkledale itself or Ponyville on which to build longhouses and a place able to receive dignitaries of other nations with the pomp, circumstance, and comfort with which they are accustomed. Afterwards, you may begin to seek a residence within Canterlot from which you may contact the House of Ladies and Celestia’s court, and conduct business with the other ambassadors. Your time among the other grandmasters will serve you well, you will find, as there is little difference in the petty bickering and politicking. I will return in a fortnight with a holy tree to plant in front of our new hold.”

Iridia paused so her brave halla had time to comprehend her commands before continuing onto what would shock them most.

“I’m off to oust those who ignorantly seek to deny me my throne. There is little I despise as much as the day-to-day mundanity of running a nation, but I see now that avoiding it has put my halla at risk. I also want to show my Twilight the land of her birth in its full glory, and this I can not do so long as our home is controlled by those frightened fawns clinging to a corrupt tradition. The time of the Halla cutting themselves off from the rest of the disc is over, whether the Traditionalists wish to accept this fundamental truth or not. I have returned.”

River bowed deep as Iridia finished, and to her credit didn’t argue or ask for clarifications. Not that Iridia had any to give. She’d spoken entirely off the cuff, her mouth charting a course she wondered if she’d be able to navigate. It was one thing to say she would take her throne, quite another to actually do so.

The halla had no such reservations, and a long cheer broke from their ranks.

Behind Iridia, Scootaloo whispered loudly to Apple Bloom, “Whatever she said seems to have made them happy.”

Spinning around to her guests, Iridia put on a grin braver than the uncertainty building in her chest. For an instant she wondered at the wisdom of bringing the trio of fillies or Shyara. Such doubts were easily quashed. The Crusaders were connected to Fluttershy, and Shyara to Twilight. Her intuition told her that they all had roles still to play, and knew better from long experience than to ignore such whisperings.

“Good, now that is out of the way, we can leave,” Iridia said with a firm nod. “Everypony take a deep breath, this is going to be a long teleport.”

“Wait, we ain’t going to take the train or something?” Apple Bloom thrust her hoof up as if she were in class.

Giggling at the silly question, Iridia patted Apple Bloom on the head. “Of course not. Where we’re going there are no rail lines or roads. It would take weeks or more to travel by hoof to Thornhaven. Now, deep breaths, and this might be a little chilly.”

Deaf to the chorus of questions, concerns, and apprehension directed at her, Iridia summoned her magic. Fluttershy was the most vociferous in demanding Iridia wait. Extending the spell over the fillies and Fluttershy, there was a bright flash and shattering crackle as six bodies vanished.

Upon the highest tower of the mountain city of Southstone, where the clouds shroud the disc below in perpetuity, there exists a hidden garden oasis. Around a single, tall Quiver tree grew plants taken from across the breadth of the disc. Ferns from Equestria, flowers from the north, and cacti of the many desserts were all arrayed in pleasing lines. Thick grass provided a soft, springy matt on which the gardens occupants could relax, kept warm by the enchantments carved by unicorn slaves two thousand years prior, when the Griffon Empire had been growing in might. Just beyond the glowing bands, frost and rime clung to the parapets, spreading like sickly veins down the walls to the snowy streets below.

Talona glared at these runes, tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth, pondering just why they were so pretty.

Her ears flicked to the rustle of grass beneath paws. She grinned. Her new brothers thought they were so stealthy, always trying to sneak up on her. She was the ‘Avenger of the Skies’, however, and couldn’t be surprised. Her chest puffed out thinking about her name, as it always did, and she wondered when Gilly and Blinky would come and find her.

She missed Gilda and Blinka. They’d a nice aura. Pleasant. Warm. Being around them made her happy.

It had been so long since they fell asleep beneath that tree on the edge of the zebrican savanna. Almost like years had passed since they’d been parted, even though it was only a few months. Part of her started to doubt if they were even going to come at all.

There was a slight whump as her adoptive brother pounced, and bounced off her back. Talona blinked a couple times, reminded of his presence, and turned to stomp down on the edge of a wing. Sprawled out, paws and talons flailing, the cub let out a plaintive yowl that drew the attention of his mother.

From where she lay in the tree’s shade, the Queen ordered in a raspy voice common to most griffons for them to fight away from the garden’s edge. “I don’t want to have to catch you if Talona tosses you over the edge again,” she glared at the pair, her eyes two pinched amber orbs beneath thick brows and a gold crown.

Blowing a raspberry, Talona pranced up to the queen, and flopped down between her outstretched legs. Breath prickled the back of her ears, the queen hardly making a note of the pony’s presence, and flipped the page of her book.

Talona jittered and swished her tail, trying to get the queen to pay attention to her rather than the dry, boring book. After a few minutes of this, the queen grabbed her by the scruff and moved her out of the way. Putting on a pout, Talona jumped onto the queen, and nestled in between her wings.

It was from there she observed the one-eyed general who’d taken her from Gilda and Blinka alight on the tower. She glared as the general approached and made a bow to the queen.

She didn’t like the general. There was an unsettling air that hung like a pestilent cloak over her. Every day there was some new excuse to intrude on the gardens, slinking along in the shadows, whispering things to the queen or some attendant.

They spoke at length, but Talona didn’t pay attention beyond the rise and fall of their voices. Until, that is, the queen cried out, “Then the empire is whole at last! Southstone takes its rightful place as the First Aerie. That pretender among the zebras will now be made to kneel. Her invasion repelled, armies crushed, foals made a feast, and she made to beg our mercy. We have the godling, and soon, we will have so much more. The Third Griffon Empire begins to fly this day.”

A little huff broke from Talona, gaze dragged towards the west, and then north.

Her senses prickled. A pleasant tingle ran up her back and made her wings stretch out. It was the same tingle Talona experienced just before she’d lost her home in crashing fire and bloodsoaked screams.

Somewhere, far away, something important was about to occur.

Somewhere, ponies were about to die.

Talona smiled and nestled deeper into the queen’s fur.

Author's Note

And the main story crosses that bridge... Have no fear, however that Myths is suddenly going to be dominated by humies everywhere. At best, they might see another brief mention in the next Gilda/Zubu mini-section. Well, out-side my sword and sorcery Young Luna stuff over in the anthology. This has been something on my mind a long, long, looooooong time. I just like the idea of humans being some big mythical creature on Ioka. Yeah, its on the nose, the whole role-reversal. Still, I should be allowed to indulge myself sometimes.

Talona's little scene has teetered on the chopping block for a while. It's mostly a reminder segment, going, 'Hey, remember this character who was introduced a couple years ago and hasn't been seen since?' Also, I just wanted an excuse to bring up Blinka again.

Book Two: Chapter Five: Wrath of the Gods

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duty and Dreams
Chapter Five: Wrath of the Gods

The village of Lourdes ground to a halt. Mouths fell open in unison and a wave of chilly disbelief swept across the market square. All eyes turned to stare at the gods standing in their midst. Some saw only Faust, her rust red mane caught in the breeze rolling down the mountains and through the valley. For others, the brothers were all they could focus upon, caught in a whirlwind of questions and conflicting emotions.

Those nearest threw themselves prostrate upon the ground and issued fervent prayers to their returned goddess.

Zeus had eyes only for Faust, trailing over her long legs and thin withers. She was a little too lanky for his tastes, attractive, though, in the eyes and with refined features.

“Brother…” Hades began in warning, but trailed off at the broad grin his brother carried like a banner.

“I tell you again; leave my world.” Faust struck her hoof upon the ground in a thundering blow.

Her essence crawled along Zeus’ wings and filled his nose with the scent of cardamom and spice. She was deep within the throes of her Domain, searching for something from the way her pretty blue eyes darted. Her presence caressed his face like a mid-fall breeze, gentle with the last fleeting traces of a tender warmth.

This only widened Zeus’ grin.

“Well, this is a fine greeting, if ever I’ve received one. You give my brother competition for having the most unwelcoming home. We have done nothing to earn your ire, madam. Made no attempts at usurping your place within these mortals’ hearts. We have started no cults in our own names.” Trotting in a slow circle, Zeus gestured towards the town with a sweep of one wing. Faust’s gaze followed the gesture, her expression growing ever more sour. “Had we knowledge of your location, we’d have sought you sooner.”

“The worship of ponies has never interested me, only that they are safe,” Faust countered, still searching her domain. “And you herald chaos and death. You must leave.”

“That is impossible,” Zeus replied with a slow shake of his head. “Our daughters have come to this world, and we would have them returned to us.”

“Daughters?” Faust’s eye locked onto something only she could see. She narrowed her gaze, peering at it as if she were trying to stare into the sun. “Ah, yes, them. They are known to my weave.”

Zeus’ smile vanished, replaced by a stern glare and pinched brow. His blood rose, and the next words rolled like thunder across the town square. “Explain yourself, madam.”

“There is little to… tell…” Faust clicked her tongue, and prodded the air as if to pluck an invisible lyre. “How…?” Whatever she saw or heard broke her spell. Blinking as if waking from a dream, Faust frowned, shook her head, and focused on Zeus.

An odd one, then, Zeus determined.

Straightening her shoulders, Faust said, “Leave this world. You will not find what you seek.”

Bristling, Zeus’ pulse quickened, and his hackles rose. He was not used to being spoken to in such a manner by any mare save his wives.

“You do not command me, for I am Zeus, King of the Gods, Last of the True Aethyir. He who cast the formless Quus into their eternal prison. He who imprisoned demonkind beneath Tartarus. And, he who granted the archons Elysium so that they may reward the faithful among mortal kind. There is naught another in all the cosmos, on all the worlds, in all the realms, who is my equal.” A truth rang in his words, a truth tempered by time and the shifting sands of history.

Faust did not hesitate or waver, however. A mare Zeus could respect, steadfast to her convictions.

“Calamity follows you, Zeus. You intrude on events that do not concern you. If you will not leave my world of your own volition, then I must make you leave by other means.” She lowered herself into a ready stance, hooves planted wide and jaw set with determination.

Yes, he liked this mare. She was an old god like himself and unused to being challenged.

If it was a fight she desired, than that was what she would receive.

He struck first, crossing the square in a pulse of the lightning he commanded. This was not teleportation, but speed, pure and raw. The mortals in the square were sent sprawling in his passage, unable to react or comprehend his movements. Awnings and market stands were sent tumbling, storefronts shattered, glass raining into the shops, and would have been deadly had not every pony come into the street to witness the alicorns. Dropping low, Zeus swept up his hoof in a swing as powerful as a tempest.

Barely did Faust have time to register the attack and tense before she was struck on the cheek and sent hurtling towards the distant end of the valley. Trees and a rocky outcropping were shattered in her wake, the latter sending her spinning until she struck the walls of the monastery. In the middle of afternoon prayers, the sisters were caught utterly by surprise as their walls burst around them and Faust came to a stop in the deepest sanctums. Such was the power behind the blow that the stone beneath Zeus were crushed to dust.

Blinking a few times, he turned to Hades and said, “That was disappointing. After all that bluster, I thought her to put up a little fight at least.”

“She is probably just deciding if that was the limit of your strength,” Hades countered, leaning up against the edge of the fountain, chin on hoof.

“Come now, she can not be so foolish as to believe that was a serious kick.” Zeus snorted and shook out his wings to loosen them. Momentary worry caught him, and he tilted his head. “Can she?”

Hades shrugged, and looked away with abject disinterest. Next to Hades, Soir trembled and shrunk within his shadow. The questions posed by the filly’s mere existence buzzed around Zeus’ head like a nectar-drunk bee. Zeus had hoped that with Faust’s arrival some answers could have been attained. Shame she was not the talkative type.

Instead, more questions had been tossed upon the pile. Questions, and concerns that twisted his insides.

“By my beard, what does she mean with this delay?” Zeus growled, narrowing his gaze down the valley. His hoof tapped with impatience. “Does she wish to fight or not? And what is this nonsense about weaves? Is she the goddess of tailors?”

A booming chuckle came from Zeus. He turned to see if Hades would share his mirth, but his brother was dour, as always.

“Ha-ha-ha! I have such a wit. ‘Goddess of tailors.’ Hera would have loved that one.” Zeus’ mirth faded at the thought of his wife. Impatience returned, grown a little more sour with Hades sullen silence. “Should I go see if she wishes to continue?” He tugged at his beard and frowned.

There was no need to go in search of Faust, as she came at him flinging magic with no other purpose than to destroy. A lance of ruby light tore apart all it touched, breaking the fundamental bonds that held all things together. It was among the most powerful of war-spells ever devised on Ioka, and nothing special to Zeus.

Slow and unwieldy, Zeus turned it aside with but a sweep of his wing, redirecting the deadly beam into the heart of Lourdes.

A long trail of destruction sheared through the town, buildings bursting into flames like oil soaked torches, thick plumes of smoke curling up into the blue afternoon sky. Hovering just beyond the town, Faust gaped in shock at the damage. She paled beneath her snowy coat, mouth pressed so tight her lips drained of all colour.

She tried the spell again, and Zeus let out a gruff sigh as he turned this one too aside, with identical results.

“Come, madam, surely that is not all you are capable?” He let out a jocular chuckle that hid his own diminishing hopes. “Or, are you but a fool? If you mean to challenge me, then give it your all.”

Faust again touched her domain, stronger this time, eyes rolling to the back of her head as she immersed herself in its power. Zeus almost regretted his failure to learn just what her domain entailed. Clearly nothing related to battle or warfare, from the poor showing she’d given him thus far.

He dipped a glance down to the streets on either side torn and consumed by Faust’s magic. Ponies ran back and forth, shouting at one another, calling for bucket brigades. A few bodies lay where they’d fallen, twisted and mangled where they’d been grazed by the lethal energies. Those struck fully were little more than ash drifting on the slight breeze.

Powerful, deadly magic, to be certain, but only against one unused to battle. Only somepony very foolish, or very inexperienced, would attempt the long sequence of runes, the obvious build-up of aether, and then letting it out in a straight, frontal attack. At least, against anypony conceivably their equal or better.

Still, Faust continued to hover, to hesitate.

He could think of no other reason for the delay. Patience growing ever thinner, Zeus took to the air. As he lifted himself on broad strokes of his wings, Zeus caught, out of the corner of his eye, Soir running off, and Hades not giving any pursuit of the filly. His brother just leaned against the fountain base with a thoroughly disinterested air. Finding the filly again would be easy enough. She could not get far.

Reaching out in the same manner as Faust, Zeus touched the skies, and the storms that lay hidden even within the most beautiful and calm days.

At first it was little more than a slight kick to the wind, one that grew and grew until the top of the trees bowed and there was a shrill whistle through their boughs. Dark clouds gathered, clumping above the town, and began to spin. The nascent storm sent its master a query, curious as to why it was being formed. Zeus responded with the rush of blood in his veins, and the song of battle that was the tempo set. Electricity rippled through the growing anvil head of the storm in response.

Faust shook her head, the connection to her domain lessening, but not gone. She looked around for Zeus, and found him standing on the leading edge of his storm, like a captain at the prow of his ship plunging into blood foaming seas.

“Come, Faust, let us play!” Zeus’ deep voice rumbled across the valley and lands beyond. “Let us see you cast me off this world.”

Dropping off the ledge, Zeus grabbed hold of the lightning growing in the storm’s belly. He hurled himself at Faust like the roaring storms he commanded. There was an utter lack of subtlety to his assault. Lightning wreathed his wings and mane, splitting ancient cedars and stone to a crackling refrain. Wind howled behind him like the breath of a monstrous chariot, and hail scoured the town, stripping bare those trees not torn apart.

Curious what she would do, Zeus loosed the first lightningbolt in a perfect mirror to the spells she’d summoned.

The thunderbolt could not be stopped, only turned aside. There came a tremendous ringing tone, like a dozen bells had crashed together, and a brilliant flash of the purest white pierced by an indigo lance. Two hundred miles away they saw the light and heard the refrain as Mount Ossau was cleft in twain from peak to base.

Zeus grinned. Perhaps this would be entertaining after all.

Soir ran through the chaos consuming her village as fast as her little legs could carry her. She darted around burning stumps, shattered trees, and sundered homes. Screams rolled across the town on a glowing red cloud of smoke. An older mare wandered, eyes glazed with shock, half her face a mess of burnt fur and dirt caked flesh. A colt cried alone, and was scooped up by a passing stranger. Lowering her head, Soir moved faster. She had to reach her mother.

In the distance beyond the valley, one of Faust’s ruby beams blazed through the building storm. The terrible, metallic ripping was hardly muted by the many miles. Like a monstrous sword, it slashed across once verdant fields. Plumes of dark ash bloomed in the deadly wake, climbing hundreds of hooves into the sky before falling in strangling clouds.

Zeus emerged from the cloud, spinning around the beam, and then firing a jagged fork of lightning up into his storm. On contact, the belly of the clouds came alive with ten thousand lances of brilliant blue-pink electricity. Forming spokes of a cage, vibrant bars that burned to look upon, lightning sought the disc and clawed into the heavens.

It were as if the pits of Tartarus had been torn open and the hellish wastes contained within let loose.

For the rest of their days, those who survived would wake from nightmares of the whistling screams proceeding each new blow. A spinning tempest formed over land in all defiance of the pegasi that came to halt its growth. Wind lashed trees bare, hail scoured fields and homes, and fire fell as rain, lighting the mountains with an abyssal reddish glow. Nowhere in southern Prance was left untouched by the fury of two gods battling in the fullness of their power.

Unsure what was happening, ponies ran to find help and seek shelter. Fire teams attempted to put out the flames, but it was a futile effort. Brittle from two years of drought, forests and fields went up like bundles of matches, sparks leaping from tree to tree like they were carried on the backs of cackling, mad sprites.

The noise was an unmatched din, voices screamed directly into the ear lost among the growing cacophony.

Far overhead, the embattled gods flew, Faust deflecting blow after blow that rang like a colossal hammer on a mountainous anvil. A blast of twisting green flecked with violet bursts sent by Faust was turned towards Lourdes’ school. Losing only a moment to surprise, Faust dove, putting herself between her own spell and the school, conjuring a golden disc to negate most of the crackling energies. Molten aether fell in thick, glowing globs, splashing and setting alight even the cobblestone roads.

Faust darted off soon as she could, Zeus giving chase. Their passage sent the ponies below sprawling. Struck on the side by wind as if she’d been bucked, Soir tumbled into a ditch, embers stinging her flanks and singeing the ends of her tail and mane. Her ears rang, and the disc lurched underhoof as she pulled herself up and onward.

By the time Soir found her footing, the battle had already moved back out of the valley.

Soir was alone on the road leading to her home. The houses were spread further apart than in town, isolated by small patches of farmland or pieces of forest stretching down from the mountain. Head lowered, Soir ran past the final home before her own; that of the miller’s herd. Wheel askew, slanting in the slough, Lourdes’ mill burned, the miller and his wives strewn before the threshold, unmoving among open sacks of their meagre personal effects.

Frightened tears staining her cheeks, Soir rounded the final corner. Her home in sight, Soir felt a flicker of relief. The cottage stood relatively unharmed by the warring gods, tiles stripped from one side of the roof, and windows broken, but still standing otherwise. The grounds around the cottage showed further damage, the gate hung askance, the top hinges broken, and small patches of fire clung to the shrubbery along the street.

“Mama!” Soir yelled at the top of her lungs, only for a deep percussion of some distant spell drown out her voice. She called again, short legs aching as they carried her the final few yards.

Jardin’s voice answered, panicked and hopeful in equal measure.

Then a belltower she did not recognise hurtled from the sky, crushing her home and the surrounding gardens in a single, cruel blow. Lifted off her hooves, Soir tumbled head over tail back along the lane. Her shoulder cracked against the rocks, and the disc spun violently. Stone and splinters rained down around her as she stared, dazed, up at the roaring storm.

Hail joined the debris, creating a deafening blanket of noise through which the distant blows of Faust and Zeus came in muted groans, low booms, and crackling howls. Winds came next, fanning the flames around the valley and lands beyond, driving them into wild firestorms. The rapid popping of pinecones, like a fireworks shop were setting off its entire stock, soon joined the incredible din.

Pulling herself up, Soir stared open mouthed at the rubble burying her home.

Bruised, tired, a heavy static curtain falling over everything so that all sound and even sight began to bleed away, she dragged herself forward.

“Mama?” she called out, hope against hope pleading for a miracle.

Jardin would emerge from the ruins, having protected herself with a shield in the last instant! Or, she teleported away on reflex.

Crawling over the pile of bricks and tiles, Soir failed to notice the thick, oily flames and smoke of an approaching comet. Picked up as it passed, she was sent tumbling down the rubble, flame dragging over her back and curling the ends of her fur. Her nose and mouth were filled with a searing wave as the comet landed only a few lengths away, casting up a shower of burning hot rock as it dug a shallow crater.

Haggard gasps pulled through cracked lips, Soir peered into the crater and felt her insides twist in horror.

At its center, Faust lay on sprawled wings. Burnt from nose to flank, her once glorious right wing was little more than a skeletal, blackened mess of cracked flesh and bone. The stink of burnt hair and skin assaulted Soir, and she had to cover her mouth to hold back the contents of her stomach.

Growling, Faust slowly sat up and crawled from where she’d landed towards Soir. Right eye as ruined as her wing, and ear little more than a melted stub, Faust was a horror to look upon. Wishing to scream, but unable to do more than whimper, Soir trembled as Faust grew closer.

Nearly at Soir, Faust attempted to stand, but could not and collapsed.

Good eye settling on Soir, Faust blinked, and let out a weak, almost manic chuckle. “Fitting, to see my greatest failure now. Come here, come here, Namyra.”

Faust beckoned with her good leg. Soir gulped, and heart beating heavy in her chest, she came close enough that Faust could reach out and touch her.

“How long have I dreaded this reunion?” Faust asked nopony, a delirious quality to her voice.

“But, we’ve never met,” Soir protested. The words escaped her with a distant, far-off quality, as if spoken by somepony else.

A short laugh turned into a hacking cough, and Faust shook her head slowly.

“Namyra, no, Soir,” Faust spoke, each breath taken with a long, wheezing rattle in her chest. Hoof trembling, she brushed back Soir’s mane, hooking it behind her ear. “I am so sorry for what happened to you. It was impossible to prevent and not cause a greater tragedy still. So much death… Ioka herself would not have survived. Only one path open… and… No! The foolish child. She comes too soon!”

Faust pushed Soir away, sadness in the goddess’ every aspect.

“Hide!” Faust commanded, “And seek the stars. Find Twilight. Only then can harmony be restored.”

Soir squeaked as she was thrust by Faust’s magic into a sheltered nook beneath what had been part of the roof of her home. A pile of bricks held in a ruddy glow fell across the entrance, sealing her within. There was just enough of a gap for Soir to peek out and witness the impossible play out before her.

Zeus swept in on a chariot of storm and cloud. At his side hovered a tall staff or spear, golden head glinting in the stoccata flashes of distant lightning strikes.

“This has been, sadly, less enthralling than I hoped,” he declared as his chariot came to a stop, hovering at the height of the tops of the trees that had once filled the town. “There is no shame in your loss. I am Zeus, and—”

He was silenced by a tepid beam of magic. There was none of the former screaming force behind Faust’s spells, and Zeus only had to shift his head a little to avoid the attack.

“Cease this nonsense.” Zeus’ voice had long since lost all its usual rumbling humour. “This contest is over, Faust. You have given it a good effort, and I have indulged you far longer than I should out of respect of one monarch to another, but this has long since entered the realm of absurdity. Look upon the destruction your arts have wrought. Surrender, and I will show leniency. I am not a god bereft of mercy. Do not force me to destroy you.”

“You do not understand,” Faust coughed, and forced herself up. Her legs wobbled from exhaustion and pain, and Soir had to stifle a gasp at the sight of Faust’s charred wing and side that had been hidden beneath her body. “If you do not leave, this world is doomed.”

Some small hope that he would listen flickered in Soir, and died as he tossed back his head and let out a long laugh. Not a jovial laugh, but one of dark humour and promised violence.

“Enough with this doomed world nonsense. Who are you to make such a claim?” He demanded.

Trying to take a step closer, Faust tripped and fell to her knees. Still, she held her head high, and through gritted teeth and with as much force as she could muster, said, “I am the Goddess of Fate, and—”

“Fate? The Goddess of Fate?” Zeus laughed longer and louder still, a dark, mirthless sound that merged with the distant roll of thunder. “Now I see what has happened here. Yet again, I have played into those harpies hooves, doing their dirty work. By my beard, I knew they had ulterior motives, but I never would have suspected this. You are not Fate, Faust, but a fool. You claim a domain not yours. Attempting to steal what belongs to the Moirai, no less. That, however, is between the Fates and you to resolve. I would offer caution, they are far more subtle in their ways and hold a grudge far longer than I.

“No, what I want is the location of my daughters. Tell me where they are, and we may put this trifle behind us.”

Falling to her side, Faust began to laugh, low and slow at first and rising to a hysterical pitch.

“Where are my daughters? Tell me!”

Grinning wider, Faust hurled the answer as he had done his thunderbolts, “They are dead. Destroyed! They will never call you ‘father’. Never share the triumphant grins that you long to see. My weave is pure of such intrusions. Pure. Yes, my weave must remain pure.”

Zeus was silent a long while, his face passive, expressionless. When he spoke, the wind ceased as a solemn silence rang across the valley. “Then you will be sent to join them, madam.”

An electric current ran through the air at Zeus’ proclamation. Soir’s fur stood on end, little static sparks jumping from tuft to tuft, then up towards Zeus. His staff glowed, brighter and brighter, until it hurt to look upon. A thrumming noise filled the valley, resonating through teeth and bone. Soir curled in on herself, unable to stop shaking as noise, light, and sparks grew to a fevered pitch.

And then all was silence as Zeus leveled his staff at Faust.

Through the miasma of the horizon as far away as Hackney’s white cliff coasts in the north, the mountainous city of the zbori to the east, the fleet of ships carrying grain just through the Marelantian Islands straits far, far in the west, and the lairs of the dragon lords within their desert across mountain and sea in the south, every eye was turned upon the battle between gods. Each blow exchanged lit the sky and was felt in the breasts of onlookers as if they’d been struck by a hammer.

Mothers clutched their foals close, though they did not know why. They wept, openly, even the cold and stoic zbori, batlike wings wrapped tight around each other as if to provide some measure of comfort or protection.

In the towns of southern Prance, panic gripped the villages and towns in flaming bands. Debris from the destruction of Mount Ossau plummeted upon their streets and homes, lit their dry fields, and spread devastation wide.

Sisters, monks, and anypony devout prayed as they ran, stumbled, or wandered through the sweeping destruction. Many of the voices were lifted to Faust, and these she reformed into armour to withstand Zeus’ thundering blows. Near as many were given to Celestia, Luna, and any god or saint that may have been listening.

Stuck in a meeting with the Astronomer’s Guild, quietly listening to their latest set of grievances, Celestia didn’t notice the first such prayer as it brushed against her conscience. The prayer was easily put aside, as were so many others that were issued every single moment of her existence, no thought at all given to them. A dozen more joined the first within moments, then a hundred, and then a thousand, two thousand, and more and more. Even this would not have been enough to garner her attention, but for the wild tinge of dread that weighed the prayers down like barbed anchors. And then, dozens were snuffed out at once mid-utterance.

Celestia twisted around in her seat to peer at the wall as if she could see through it to the source of the prayers.

‘Love, is something happening in the east?’ She asked Sol.

The sun did not answer at once as she wrenched her attention away from Manehatten to scan the rest of the disc.

Across from Celestia, the members of the guild grew agitated at being ignored. She gave them a pleasant smile, and begged their indulgence a moment. “There seems to be an issue that—”

Her explanations came to a sharp halt at Sol’s cry of, ‘You must see this!’

Rarely did Celestia share Sol’s sight. Rarer still at Sol’s insistence. No sooner had the sun spoken than she was tugging at Celestia’s essence, fusing it with her own so that they each saw with the others eyes.

The view from so high among the heavens was breathtaking, as always. Clouds drifted across swatches of greens and yellows, softer browns where grasslands gave way to arid plains and then the oranges of the deserts. Interspersed throughout rose the grey points of mountains like spiny frills. Within the heart of southern Prance a wild tempest overtook the usual emerald forests and rolling hills. Jets of lightning shot skyward and into the ground, but not in the usual haphazard manner.

Sol tightened her gaze, narrowing in on where the storm was fiercest. At first Celestia did not see what caused Sol enough panic to pull her essence to the heavens. Then she noticed the two specs darting this way and that above the smoldering, jagged base of what’d been Mount Ossau. Ruby lances burst from one at the other, and though Celestia had never witnessed Faust use war spells, she knew this to be her mother.

Fear leapt through Celestia as Faust’s spells were turned aside, their deadly power redirected towards the wounded earth. The other combatant darted in close, and with a mighty buck, knocked Faust from the sky trailing wisps of smoke and feathers.

“I must go,” Celestia said, and without a further word she’d teleported the short distance to the armoury. There was no time to don her armour, and just enough to snatch her sword from where it rested.

She didn’t even hesitate over whether to contact Luna or not. Selene had set for the day, and Luna was asleep. There was not the time to rouse any of the others and explain what was transpiring. Her only hope was that they too were receiving prayers, and that they were not putting them aside.

Then Celestia lost all sight, sound, and warmth as she fell into the leylines of aether flowing across the disc. Ordinarily, it would take several minutes to cross from Canterlot to southern Prance. Celestia did not have that time. She forced her will further into the maelstrom of pure energy, bending, reshaping it, forcing it to carry her faster. There wasn’t even a proper destination set, simply ‘east’.

Whenever Celestia taught her students the arts of teleportation, one of the first lessons was to never, under any circumstances, teleport without the end-point firmly affixed. The number of wizards who’d been lost within the swirling confines of the leylines were nearly beyond counting. Sometimes, other travellers managed to spot these lost souls, catching them in the corner of their eye for a fleeting instant before they were swept away again.

As the aether permeating Prance drew nearer, Celestia became aware of the toll being exacted by the battle. Massive amounts of energy were not being just summoned, but expelled so that the furious storm ravaging the land was mirrored within the leylines. Currents glutted with the cast off energy from spells buffeted Celestia, threatening to knock her off course, or out of the aetherial veil entirely.

She grabbed hold of these currents, following them to the source of the disturbances. There, she would find Faust and whoever her mother fought.

Stronger distortions buffeted Celestia, like a stone had been cast into the veil, and then she was struck from behind as it rushed to fill the void. She could see, physically see, the spell being formed, the aether gathered into a single point. Runes Celestia did not recognise blazed in the near distance, a song to resonate across the leylines flowing from the heart of the spell. Mighty runes, each was equal to the most powerful rune within Celestia’s considerable repertoire.

Riding the currents, Celestia tucked wings and legs tighter against her barrel, willing herself just a little bit faster. The pitch of the song shifted, the final runes taking form. Celestia had to chose; go where the spell was being formed, or where it was directed. Two points shone at either end, one her mother, the other whomever she fought, but who was which remained obscured by the blinding formation of runes between them.

The spell was completed, and Celestia chose.

Light, sound, the scent of burnt wood on a cold, wet wind slammed into Celestia, and from above fell a stream of screaming plasma.

Celestia acted as Luna would have in her place, swinging Coronal Edge up with all her might, the powerful artifact's blade emitting a deep roar of its own. Forged from a piece of Sol, few blades could stand in comparison to Celestia’s sword. She caught the lightning bolt on the flat of the blade, aura trembling beneath the force of stopping the oncoming spell.

Never, in all her years, had Celestia felt such staggering strength. Only Nightmare Moon could compare, and her attacks had always held a semblance of grace carried over from saner times. There was none of that here, just pure, unbridled power bereft of any subtlety or nuance.

Clenching her teeth tight, Celestia let out a snort that turned into a deep shout as she withstood the killing stroke. Against Coronal Edge, the lightning split and ricocheted across the valley, leaving great gouges carved into the already scarred land.

Standing astride her wounded mother, Celestia billowed flame and might as she had not done in an age. Her mane was as the flaring surface of the sun, her eyes the molten core, strength swirling in their depths. A terrible yell broke from her throat, and she sent her flames through Coronal Edge and up the lightning pulsing against the blade.

The lightning petered out, spent, and her counter-attack, so hastily formed, burned only through clouds and up into the heavens before being expended.

Celestia Invictus, the Sun Unconquered, leveled her sword at Zeus, Coronal Edge a match for the fires commanded by her mistress.

Upon his storm, Zeus stood smitten. His grin grew wider still, and his heart pounded against his chest. He was ten thousand years younger in that moment, as fresh and full of life as he’d been as he declared victory over the Quus and claimed Gaea for his throne.

Never before had he been challenged so brazenly. He gathered the greatest of his thunderbolts, coaxing it together across the still growing storm, and drew his staff close to his side. He would test this mare.

Spell upon spell tumbled through the back of Celestia’s thoughts, just gracing her awareness enough to respond at the slightest command. Some were slow, but brutal, others quick flicks that swarmed and ground an opponent down, like rain hammering a mountain into a hill.

Old wounds and fresher stings reminded her of past defeats. A dull ache throbbed where Amon had once hacked off her wing and skin prickled where Chrysalis had humiliated her. With the former she’d been so young, inexperienced, and overconfident. The latter she’d been hemmed into Canterlot, terrified of unleashing the fullness of her power, and diminished by the careful work of months of poison.

Now, none of these were factors.

The greatest, and youngest, of her runes rose of its own accord, answering the call before she’d even begun to call its name. Ursea was so fresh, having spent less than a few months among her considerable repertoire, and only ever used once. A rune of her own devising, formed of her own essence, with the gentle, life giving qualities of the sun on a spring day, and the terrible, consuming wrath of Sol’s surface when angered, Ursea was as powerful as its mistress.

At the touch of the rune’s presence, Coronal Edge blazed hotter, sensing the sisterly nature of the rune to her own magic.

Shifting her hooves, wings spread ever so slightly so she could dart up or to the side as needed, Celestia readied her onslaught.

Before she could move, a hoof grabbed hold of her leg, and her gaze flickered for an instant down.

“We must leave,” Faust gasped through split lips, clutching at Celestia’s leg. “Twilight! Twilight. We must go to Twilight.”

The fury directed at the figure of Zeus so far overhead swung down to Faust. Celestia’s jaw tensed, fear clutching at her for her cousin. Without a word she took up her mother and teleported away.

Sweeping off his storm, Zeus descended to where Celestia had stood. He tugged at his vibrant, once more golden beard, and crinkled his blue eyes. Gone was the middle-aged stallion of yore, and in his place stood a figure full of vitality and youth.

“By my beard,” he said in a long breath, “Who was that stunning creature? I must find her. I must make her mine. Surely, there is no other who could be my equal. I am alive as I have not been in an epoch. To win but a moment more of the passion in those eyes! To taste her lips! I must find her.”

A sigh of pure longing issued from his throat, and Zeus took off to the west without further thought.

Author's Note

Originally I wrote this chapter focusing far more on the action, and less on the wider effects such a battle between gods would create. I found it very lacking, so switched more to a disaster movie style format for most of the battle. That worked much better I found, especially making Soir a pov character. Essentially, looking through the mouse's eyes when trapped between a couple elephants fighting.

Originally, this chapter was a bit longer as it contained the aftermath of the battle as well. This caused a tonal dissonance within the chapter, one half being action the other slow and filled talky-talky. Splitting and fleshing both out has worked much better.

Book Two: Chapter Six: Lament for Fate

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duty and Dreams
Chapter Six: Lament for Fate

Hades picked his way slowly through the devastation of Lourdes, a long frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. Around him milled the living, the dead, and those in between. Keres attempted to help the souls of the dead, talking to their charges in low, soft voices, guiding them towards the rivers hidden in the Winterlands. Most listened, but a few lingered, clinging to the ashes of their former lives, to their loved ones, unable to accept their own death.

More and more of the keres appeared, sweeping out of the misty veil separating the worlds on their broad wings. Unlike their cousins, the thane, the keres offered few kind words. For all the softness of their voices and pitying eyes, the keres guided those who died in violence. Echoing the nature of their deaths, such souls often reacted with anger and threats. It took a firm hoof to guide such souls.

Perhaps a dozen within Lourdes, Hades estimated, would refuse the guidance of the keres. Of them, maybe three would linger long enough to become a problem for the town, should it rebuild. Eventually, those souls would become ghosts, the ghosts in turn transitioning into geists of various sorts, and they too, in time, would twist themselves into wraiths or other abominations to plague the living.

Unless they were sent to Tartarus first.

He could, with a gesture, send all the souls tumbling to Tartarus right then. But such an action was unnecessary and presumptuous. The mortal souls would sort themselves out in time. There was no rush.

A long sigh rattled in his throat when he was stopped by a clump of mortals begging his assistance. They grovelled so pitifully, hooves grasping at his legs and faces puffy with grief. Buried beneath the rubble of their home, a large family clung desperately to life, crying out for salvation. The small group of ponies attempting to dig through the debris stopped at Hades approach, apprehension flitting across their faces.

Underneath the rubble, Hades sensed a mare and three foals. Traces of a few others, already carried away by the keres, lingered. As he watched, one of the foals slipped away. The last flicker of life faded and was gone. Slipping through the debris, a stema carried the foal of no more than a few months old upon her back. The ghostly foal cried most pitiably, tiny hooves flailing for the warm comfort of its parents.

Within Tartarus, the foals were the only souls Hades treated with any inherent preference. As there were special reapers for the extremely young, there were places throughout the bleak misery of the colossal city where they would find shelter until they could be guided back onto the eternal wheel of reincarnation.

The stema did not acknowledge Hades, duty bound to act only for the foal’s safety, and ensure that it reached the fortress orphanages that dotted the city of the dead. A moment later the stema and its charge entered the Winterlands, and were at the banks of the River Styx.

Dragging his tongue over his teeth, Hades tilted his head, and asked, “Why?”

The group of ponies were startled by the question, confusion and anger twisting their faces. They said much of what he expected. ‘It is the right thing to do. To save a life,’ and so on. All the same moral arguments that mortals had made since their creation. He gave them all the consideration they warranted.

Their lives were so fleeting, what was the point?

He’d spent too long on the mortals, Zeus, and the various distractions hurled in his path. His Artemis was somewhere on this disc, and that was all that mattered.

Spreading his wings, Hades was about to leap into the air when his attention was caught by one of those distractions. Darting from group to group, Soir begged somepony to help her save her mother. There was a frantic, desperate note to her voice, but nopony so much as raised a hoof to help her. Everypony else had their own concerns, their own loved ones to rescue. As he’d ignored their pleas, the ponies of Lourdes ignored Soir.

Shaking with suppressed sobs, voice cracking from the effort to maintain any hope, Soir continued to move from group to group. Until she spotted Hades standing alone near the broken fountain.

She screeched to a halt and looked about to run away, then instead she approached him. Tentatively, looking much like a mouse about to scamper for the nearest hole, she entered his shadow. Her eyes were so large and pleading when she managed to lift her gaze from his hooves up to his stern frown.

“Mr. Hades, please, my mom…” She gulped and cringed. “Nopony else will help. I know she is still alive, but I can’t save her alone.”

To his unwavering gaze, Soir looked nothing like an ordinary filly. The curse wrapped tight about her could not hide her true nature. Power flowed from Soir, filling his senses even with so much latent, raw magic lingering from the battle. She was a sun amongst guttering candles.

“Your mom? You are no daughter of—”

“I know she isn’t my real mother! I know. It doesn’t matter!” Soir stamped a hoof and puffed up her face in defiance. “She is my mom. Now, are you going to help me or not?”

Hades rocked back on his hooves by the force in the filly’s watery eyes. He almost began to laugh. The mysteries surrounding Soir played at his curiosity, he hated to admit. Perhaps, just one last short distraction then.

“Very well, I promise to save your mother, if she yet lives. Lead the way.”

His response was not anticipated, judging by the dumbfounded look Soir gave him. She blinked a couple times and regained herself.

“Right. This way,” she said, turning to sprint off through the destruction, and Hades followed at a more leisurely pace.

They’d gone no more than a few yards when another pony stepped in their path. Face swollen with grief, the middle-aged mare glared at him and growled. “You’ll help that thing, when she is the cause of all this? If not for her, Lourdes would be a pleasant place. She brought you here, didn’t she? I saw you talking with her before all Tartarus opened up, and our loved ones were torn from us. You claim to be a god, but all I see is an uncaring, useless stallion.”

Hades didn’t deign to reply, and simply moved the mare aside.

“You alicorns are all the same!” The mare shrieked after Hades and Soir. “So long as your own ego is fluffed, you don’t care about what happens to anypony else.”

She may as well have been screaming into the wind for all the attention Hades paid to her. It was less a matter of ignoring her than it was caring so little that her words failed to find meaning, a noisy cricket scraping it’s legs to no greater purpose than to fill the void.

Soir hurried along debris clogged streets, past piles of rubble that were once homes and trees burning like funeral pyres, of the once vibrant town. Shattered walls thrust like the bones of an ancient dragon in the hazy light of the fading afternoon, clouds parting as Zeus’ storm broke apart. Fewer and fewer ponies were about, and those that were stumbled in a daze through the smoke drifting across the roads.

Near the remains of a thousand year old oak, trunk hewn in twain by some errant blast, a group of ponies gathered to pray, heads bent and hooves clasped. Hades slowed to listen, surprised by their hopeful intonations. As their chant shifted into a dirge, their voices took on a haunting beauty, lamenting the loss of life and begging Faust for forgiveness and comfort.

They kneeled around the body of a young mare at the base of the tree. Next to the group stood the mare’s soul with her keres guide. She was pretty, with fur the colour of fresh sunflowers, and a mane of delicate pink.

Hades stopped, transfixed, unable to turn his gaze aside as he was confronted with so exact a likeness of his Artemis.

The sight of him filled her grey eyes with fear. Her ears fell down and back as her nostrils, though they no longer drew breath, expanded in preparation to bolt. Only the keres putting its wing across her back kept the young mare from flight. Calmed her enough to hear, to listen. After whispered reassurances, the dead pony drifted away from her family and, timidly, approached Hades.

“You are the Lord of the Dead.” It was not a question, and the mare tried to smile, but fear made it crack and waver, only making her appear more like his Artemis. “Can you tell my family that I am not afraid? Tell them that I am so glad they weren’t hurt.”

Hades’ gaze darted behind the mare to the other ponies, their prayers over and regarding him with a mixture of surprise and concern. He was aware of Soir beside him, the filly chewing on her lip as she shifted from hoof to hoof in her anxiety to reach her mother. Strengthening his gaze upon the mare, Hades took in her name and all she’d ever been in this latest of lives.

A decent hearted mare, if a bit prone to pointless bickering and teasing her sisters, and jealous of the attention her brother received from their mothers. Answering the call to war, she and her dearest friend had joined the army to fight for their nation, homes, and families. Then, in their first battle she’d allowed her fillyhood friend to die when overcome by the roar of cannons, the screams, and stench of death that was an Iokan battlefield. Regret and guilt twisted through the mare, not a day going by in the few years since that she had not been visited by the horrors of her friend’s final moments. It had been because of that failure she’d been able to stand resolute as the skies were torn with fire and mountains were sundered to shield her family. She poured everything into the magic needed to keep them alive. They lived by her sacrifice.

“You will be able to tell them yourself in time, Soliel,” Hades replied, drawing shocked whispers from the ponies. To the keres, Hades said, “Inform Acheron that Soliel has my blessing and a place in my palace,” then he turned and continued with Soir towards her home, leaving the gathering confused, and Soliel to be taken to Tartarus.

He saw the distorted face of the belltower long before they turned up the final road. The ruin visited on Lourdes was thick here, the entire street flattened by the belltower’s fall. A few trees still burned, lending a ghastly glow to the strewn bricks and shattered beams.

In defiance of all the destruction, Hades sensed two ponies alive within the remains of the house. One was strong and glowed where magic was being channelled, the other weak and thready, like so many others in the town.

Lounging on one of the ruined bells, cast from the structure as it had come smashing down, a keres nodded to Hades at his approach.

“How long?”

The spirit rolled his wings and said, “A minute or two, no more. You intend to intervene? That is unlike you, Lord Hades.”

Hades silently agreed. It was unlike him to get involved in the affairs of mortals. But, he’d made a promise, and he was a stallion of his word.

“Stand back,” he said to Soir, magic alighting along his horn, sparking along the thin crack running from base to tip.

The silver-green glow of his aura surrounded the belltower, and lifted it and all the other debris as a single solid mass. Groaning at being moved in such a way, little cascades of dirt falling through the smallest gaps in his grip, the heap tilted, tottered, and attempted to break apart. Hurling the mass away, where it fell to pieces and rained beams, brick, and tile across yards and the nearby woods, Hades stepped forward.

In the hollow left behind were Jardin and Mother Framboise. Weary spurts of magic shot from the tip of Framboise’ horn into the fading remnants of the shield that had kept the crushing weight at bay.

With thanks for their rescue on her lips, she lifted her head to Hades, the words lodging themselves in her throat. Her mouth moved a few times as she attempted to push through the confused cloud of seeing the dark coated god for the first time.

Soir did not wait for either side to acknowledge the other, shooting down into the shallow pit. “Mama,” she cried, tears welling in her eyes as she reached Jardin’s inert form.

Soir’s voice jarred Framboise to action. She leaned down to lift Jardin on her back, but Hades was quicker, picking Jardin up in his magic, along with Framboise and Soir. Placing the three before him, he inspected Jardin, confirming the keres words.

A large depression on the back of her skull showed where she’d been struck by one of the beams of her home before Framboise could form the shield that had prevented them from being completely crushed. Hot, sticky blood matted her fur, seeping from the ghastly wound.

Fluttering down from his perch, the keres began to approach Jardin.

Clutching her mother, Soir pleaded and demanded for Jardin to open her eyes.

Mother Framboise extended a hoof in consolation.

The edges of Jardin began to blur, become indistinct as she took her last, shuddering breath, soul beginning to drift from her.

Hades wondered why he kept allowing himself to be sidetracked as he extended his magic over Jardin again.

It took more of Hades concentration than he was used to spending on any single spell. Healing magic had never been his forte. It had been Hecate’s domain, and she had shown him most of her spells and techniques over the many millennia they’d spent together. Even her own unique rune, Soteria, had been placed in his care.

The Goddess of Healing, but also of Necromancy, her Soteria broke the bounds of life and death, just as she had so often done. At times Hecate had been a friend, confidant, an occasional visitor to his bed, rival, and for a few, brief interludes, jokingly a wife. Like its mistress, Soteria was confusing, almost capricious, and loved to break the rules set by other gods, not at all how a Harmonic rune should have acted.

With his horn cracked, Hades could not form the full complex weave Hecate would have enacted in his place.

Green light snapped and hissed just beyond the tip of Hades’ horn as the rune took form, glowing lines tracing its shape within a circle. Channeling magic through a rune such as Soteria was tricky, but only in so far as getting it to do what he wanted. There was a reason free channeling magic through a single rune had given way to lensing, and then the complex weaving of spells. Were he not a god, were he not tens of thousands of years old with all the accumulated knowledge such age entailed, controlling the outcome would have been impossible.

As it was, he would never be able to control the range of Soteria to encompass just Jardin.

Everypony in the valley, from those clinging to the last vestiges of life, to those with the smallest of scrapes, would feel the rune’s effects. Pulses of silvery-green aether washed over Lourdes, the woods beyond, up to the monastery, and over the fields and hills snug within the valley’s mouth. All touched by the magic were healed, even the trees and beasts. Closest to the unbridled power of the rune, Jardin felt the effects strongest. She glowed with the power life being forced into her, body restored and soul affixed to its proper home.

The keres stopped his advance, looking quizzically at Hades before shrugging and turning away to slip back into the Winterlands, off to guide some other soul to the underworld.

Releasing his grasp over Soteria, the disc spun before his eyes for a moment. It had been ages since he’d required such control over a rune. This was not something as simple as opening the Gates, already attuned to his power, or allowing his dominion over death to infuse his voice.

Had Zeus been around to witness him grow light headed over something as mundane as channeling magic through a single rune, Hades would have wanted to crawl back to Tartarus in disgusted shame. It was bad enough a pair of mortals had to witness his momentary weakness.

Not that they seemed to notice.

Framboise looked upon him with abject wonder and awe, while Jardin stared at her hooves and struggled against Soir’s choking hugs.

He squirmed as they fawned over each other, with all the usual tearful confessions and professions of love. Wings fluffed in discomfort, and his promise fulfilled, Hades turned to leave.

“Wait,” Soir called, struggling to her hooves. “Take me with you!”

Hades was taken aback by the sudden demand. As was Jardin, shock, hurt, and a deep relief filling her eyes. Half turning back, Hades waited with a stern frown for Soir to explain herself.

“Faust said, she told me to find the stars,” she said in a hesitant squeak. “And you promised to help me.”

“Which I have done so.”

Soir did not shrink away like Hades anticipated at the refutation, but steeled herself, chest thrust forward and chin raised at a defiant angle.“Then I need your help again!” She added a hoof stamp, and marched up to him. It was almost cute, and had he a heart, Hades might have felt some semblance of sympathy. “Faust said that I had to find the stars to restore myself.”

“Did she now?” A sly grin took form as Hades loomed over Soir, a blossom of amusement filling his chest. He let just a faint hint of death enter his voice, and spread out his enormous wings. “But, is it wise to tell me this? Aren’t I her enemy? An intruding god here to steal this world out from under her hooves.”

Behind Soir, Jardin cringed, indecision clear as she hovered between scooping up her ward or running away. Framboise was similarly overcome, the disc darkening around them as the sun set and Hades channelled just a fraction of Tartarus.

Showing her own divine nature, Soir weathered Hades presence with ease, shaking her head and saying, “You tried to stop the fight. Well, you didn’t get involved, at least.”

“There was little point. My brother is more than capable of dealing with an inconsequential god on some distant backwater of a world lacking a true pantheon. Her hubris could not be checked, either. I’ve met many a god such as her, and was once considered such myself. Standing aside and letting them sort it out themselves was the only option.” Hades ran a hoof through his mane and released a rattling sigh.

He looked over the devastation of the valley, and felt a small pang of regret at not trying harder to rein in his brother. How long would their search be delayed now? The complications were unnecessary and could have been avoided, if only Zeus didn’t have to take every challenge so personally. The local sun goddess was clearly Zeus’ equal, and now had a grudge to nurse. Hades had yet to meet a sun god who was not among the upper echelons of a pantheon, more than a few were the chief deity of their respective worlds; Hemera, Horus, Tonatiuh, Amaterasu, and Freyr all sprang to mind.

And, it was no coincidence that it was when Soir was being confronted that Faust had chosen to reveal herself. She’d been watching them for days, attempting to stay hidden, but her skill was sorely lacking when it came to subterfuge. If Soir was that important, having her near could prove beneficial.

“Very well,” Hades declared, startling everypony, “I will take you to the stars, for a favour of my choosing at some later—”

“Okay! Let’s go!” Soir clapped her hooves and beamed happily.

“You really shouldn’t be so quick to agree to a bargain with a god of the Underworld,” Hades said with an exasperated groan.

“I trust you, Mr. Hades,” Soir tilted her head and gave that innocent smile all fillies seemed to intrinsically master. “You saved my mom, so you can’t be a bad pony.”

Hades sighed at the naive innocence but made no effort to enlighten her. There would be plenty of opportunities for that later. “Then it is a bargain. Is it Astraea you seek, or have you some local goddess responsible for their care?”

“Uh, T-Twilight. Faust said I have to find Twilight… uh…” Soir looked for guidance from the adults.

“Sparkle Tuilerya,” Framboise provided, “of the Stars and Wishes.”

“Wishes?” Hades arched a brow, finding the addition curious. “Very well. And where will we find this Twilight Sparkle Tuilerya? Within what land is her primary temple?”

Again, it was Framboise who answered. “Notre-dame de Etoiles is to be built in Equestria.”

Quick on Framboise’ reply, Jardin said, “You won’t find her in Equestria. She has gone to Zebrica. It was in the gazette. But, don’t I get a say in any of this? Soir was intrusted to me by Algol. She is my daughter!”

“You may protest all you want, madam, until your throat is raw and you collapse from the effort, but it will be futile. A pact has been struck, and I will bring Soir to the stars.” Hades scooped Soir up, placing her on his back between his broad wings.

Small hooves entwining themselves in his mane, Soir called down, “It’s okay mom. Mr. Hades will take good care of me, and I’ll be back soon. Promise!”

For the second time in as many days, Twilight felt the pressure of Celestia’s approach before the princess appeared. There was an added weight to the air this time, like a damp cloth was being pushed against her face, and her wings itched. Standing up to greet the princess, a wide smile spreading, Twilight was wholly unprepared for what was coming.

None of Celestia’s flames had abated in the minutes spent traversing the disc. The princess’ mane roared and hissed in the humid air of southern Zebrica, and Coronal Edge crackled at her side, the ancient greatsword swinging around in search of an opponent who failed to materialise.

Many times Twilight had seen the very same image, but only ever in paintings and murals. She’d always ascribed such renditions to artistic license and overactive imaginations. In all her life, she’d had the misfortune of seeing Celestia angry on multiple occasions, being the focus of that ire only a hoofful of times. Even at her worst, she’d never lost her control, never done so much as raised her voice, and Twilight had found that frightening enough, foolishly assuming that that was as angry as Celestia got.

Twilight had always nursed a healthy trepidation towards Celestia, in the way a child is wary their parents, scared to earn disappointment and disapproval rather than true animalistic fear for life and limb. Here, now, however, with the primal, raw power that was Celestia unleashed, almost blinding to look upon, a tiny pang of fear flickered just behind her breast. In that moment, as Celestia’s hardened gaze swept over the Bellerophon’s decks and the skies beyond, Twilight saw what those artist had seen and feared her cousin.

It was the broken, limp body of Faust hovering at Celestia’s side, however, that truly gave Twilight pause.

For a rare moment, Twilight couldn’t think. All she saw was Faust, feathers burnt from her right wing, bruises shining through her dirt stained coat, blood running freely from a multitude of wounds. The stench of seared flesh and fur and ozone crawled up Twilight’s nose, making her gag and cover her mouth.

Landing on the deck, Celestia demanded, “Where are they?”

The anger in Celestia’s tone put Twilight further back on her hooves, and drew her stars into a defensive cluster around her. “Who? What is going on?”

Celestia’s gaze darted around the ship and horizon again, and softened just a little. The flames forming her mane gutted, and the pastel aurora returned.

A hacking cough from Faust brought her attention back to the more pressing concern.

“Timely!” Celestia shouted, the Royal Canterlot Voice in full effect, and making the entire ship shudder as if she’d struck a hidden shoal.

Before Celestia had even set hoof on the deck, the ship had sprung to action. Nopony could mistake the seriousness of Celestia and Faust’s appearance, and in response the drums had sounded battlestations. From underhoof came the din of hammers knocking down walls, cannons being run out, and the booming voices of the officers urging the crew to quicker action.

The doctor, whose station in battle was the dank and humid cockpit deep in the bowels of the ship, had just laid out his instruments and sand was being spread underhoof when his name was called. Grabbing his apprentice and portable medical bag, he rushed up the ladders to the deck.

On seeing Faust, there was no pause or shock evident in his demeanor. He took one look at her and ordered his apprentice, “Retrieve the thickest tome from my cabin, miss Leech.” Then to Celestia said, “Carry her into the great cabin with all the gentleness you’ve ever mustered.”

Already, Celestia was lifting Faust with such precision that not a hair was disturbed. Silent, unsure what she should be doing, Twilight followed, jumping ahead to get the doors or clear a space in the great cabin.

“Princesses, neither of you have difficulty with the sight of blood, I wager?” Timely said as Faust was placed on the large desk before the broad windows where she was fully in Sol’s light. He did not wait for a response from either, before he began instructing Twilight and Celestia to hold Faust fast. Knives, pliers, saws, and other implements that looked more like a wood carvers tools than implements of healing were laid across a nearby table. Miss Leech returned, the ancient tome given to Timely by Celestia before the beginning of the voyage propped where he could have quick access to its guidance.

Putting on aprons, Timely and his apprentice set to work. Barely tall enough to see over the table, the young mare—just more than a filly, really—always seemed to know what her master would demand in advance, snatching up tools, or jumping up on a stool to use her hooves as necessary.

Stomach churning, Twilight was both repulsed and fascinated. “Why don’t you take her to Canterlot? The doctors and facilities there—”

“She’d never survive—we must get this splinter out of her, miss Leech, and stop this bleeding before she hemorrhages—the journey, Princess.” Timely spoke with an almost laissez-faire ease as he worked. An oak splinter as long as Faust’s horn was pulled from her inner thigh, where it had become lodge against the bone. Screaming, Faust thrashed, and Timely shouted, “Hold her still, damn it.”

Increasing the pressure on Faust’s shoulders, Twilight grew silent, filing the assortment of questions swirling through her away until after the doctor completed his work. Through the rest of the afternoon, he tended to Faust. Sometimes she was lucid, alternating between curses upon his ancestry, and other times she fell into a mumbling stupor.

Rags soaked with her glistening ruby blood began to pile, a slight glow infusing the cotton.

Her wing was Timely’s gravest concern following the splinter, and he spent a great amount of time removing dead flesh and applying various salves and oils before wrapping it in linens. The stench of burned skin was overpowering, making Twilight’s stomach writhe almost as much as the sight of the blackened skin, torn back in places to reveal muscle and bone. Faust’s ear was a complete loss, not that he gave it more than a passing glance as he moved to her destroyed eye, scooping out dead tissue and packing on more of his sterile bandages.

Night had long fallen by the time he at last finished and Faust was laid in the largest bed.

At some point Luna had arrived. When, Twilight could not say. She recalled Luna, silent and grave, help hold Faust when Timely applied his medicines to her legs.

The doctor sat with Faust through the night, while the princesses were ordered elsewhere, lest they disturb her.

Retreating to the deck, they found the ship as silent as a graveyard. If not for the slight creak of wood, the groan of the rigging, or the faint whisper of wind kissing the sails, the silence would have been complete. Not a pony so much as dared breath, and moved on hooves wrapped in cloths. Even the bells were muffled.

“How is she?” Pinkie asked, perhaps the only pony on the ship other than Rainbow capable of speaking and not being thrown overboard. She was utterly deflated and bereft of her usual bounce. Twilight could not recall seeing Pinkie so wretched since that first surprise party they’d tried to throw her.

“We will know in the morning,” Celestia said softly, and a nervous ripple crossed the ship.

Pinkie nodded solemnly, tears falling from her good eye, and retreated to a corner to be alone.

“How is this even possible. Aren’t you alicorns invulnerable to pretty much everything?” Rainbow demanded a little too loudly.

“Grey Dust the Cantankerous’ Principles of Magical Negation,” Twilight supplied, and before the inevitable follow-up question, recited, “‘Any enchantment or magical field may be temporarily reduced, or negated, with sufficient enough direct aether applied in a short period.’”

Rainbow gave her a deadpan stare.

“It means if we get hit hard enough by a spell, it can make us vulnerable like any other pony for a while.”

“Ah.”

“What I wish to know is who did mother fight. Leviathan is imprisoned. Did she escape already?” Luna looked to Celestia.

“No, he was an alicorn, and not alone. I counted two others in the near vicinity, but didn’t see them,” Celestia said. Her face was ashen and terse with barely contained rage. “And no, you are not to go looking for them Luna.”

Emitting an imperious snort, Luna demanded, “Why? And do not dare say it is because she has a plan. It is clear that she does not.” She paced back and forth across the deck, the metal caps of Tamashi’s scabbard, tucked beneath her wing, glinted in the moonlight.

Celestia was silent.

A seeping melancholy spread across the Bellerophon, and even the wind faded so the sails hung slack and she drifted on the current alone. Everypony retreated to into their own thoughts and private pains. Luna glared towards the north, body rigid, and a keen, brutal glow reflected in her eyes. Celestia took the leeward quarterdeck as her own, staring down at the water bubbling along the side of the ship. Twilight went to Pinkie, and held her friend as she quietly sobbed. At some point fatigue overcame anxiety, and Twilight fell into a restless sleep.

The night passed in this way. Fleur brought up blankets, spread them over Twilight and Pinkie, and retreated, feeling much like an intruder.

Near midnight, the wind shifted and grew, and the Bellerophon struck her topgallants and ran under topsails alone. Graven faced watches shifted, one set going below and another taking their place. Hardy remained on deck all the night long, taking only some coffee towards the end of the graveyard watch. Barrel Scraper served the princesses a cup each, and sent one to the doctor. Six muffled bells rang in dull tones that failed to carry beyond the wheel.

And still no news came from the great cabin.

Dawn at last came, and Twilight woke with a start just long enough to put her stars to bed, sending those who’d kept vigil with her on the disc back up to the heavens where they belonged, then drifted back off herself. For perhaps the only time, the crew watched with bated breaths as Celestia raised her precious Sol and bathed the disc in day.

Shortly thereafter dolphins emerged from the morning mists to ride the Bellerophon’s bow wave. Their sharp laughter carried far, and several crew tried to shoo them away, waving their hats and making motions with their hooves. This only drove the pod into louder, more wild antics thinking the ponies were playing some game. It wasn’t until Luna went to the forecastle that the pod dispersed, driven away by a single look from the princess.

The day was long, and terse. Whispers flew into rumour, and before the noon bells it was widely agreed upon that Faust had perished in the night. Nopony could survive such horrific wounds, said one group. To which another angrily replied that Faust was no regular pony. She was in the care of not some half-bit surgeon, but a proper physician. One charged by the princesses themselves with the care for the royal herd. He was the steadiest hoof with a knife on all the disc. Could whip out all your innards and set them back in just so, and you’d never be the worse. Why, did he not cut open ol’ Jill Place’s head, scoop out a bit of her brains, and set her back to rights when she was hit in the head by a block and tackle back on the Sophie? A few of the old mare’s shipmates nodded their heads gravely at this, and confirmed that it was all true. Others who’d been with the ill-fated landing party on Marelantis spoke of how he’d sewn back on legs, brought the dead back to life with his skills, and all other sorts of exaggerated tales.

Still, the divisions grew between the old Bellerophons and the new brought along with Hardy. Tensions continued to build, threatening to undo the work of the last month. Small Pin, one of the least able of the landsmares, barely good for hauling on a rope in calm weather, became drunk and began speaking in a loud voice how Leviathan had cursed the ship. One of the survivors of Marelantis, and a former priestess, her words on such matters carried weight with the crew.

Until Celestia’s shadow fell over the mare and her messmates. The princess said nothing. She just gave them a look of the most profound disappointment, and then returned to the poop deck. Cheeks burning with shame, the mares said nothing more on the subject, and returned to their duties with lowered heads.

Just as dusk made it’s return, Timely came on deck to smoke a cigar and down a glass of wine. “She is awake, and asking for you three. Take care not to aggravate her. She is far from being out of danger.”

Faust tried to lift herself up as Twilight and the others came into the great cabin. Celestia stopped her with a gentle hoof, and stern command to rest.

“Here come more ghosts,” Faust said, her voice weak and reedy. “First Soir, and now you two.”

Faust beckoned them come closer.

“Danger, so much danger surrounds us. The enemy has struck. Blind! I have been blind. Since a filly, so blind. Never noticed… Too much pride.” Faust tried to grin, to laugh, but was wracked by wet coughs. She reached out for Celestia, took her daughter’s hoof in her own, gave it a weak squeeze. “So much has changed. My weave… Cannot fix it. Cannot offer guidance. Strands are hidden. Half-truths…”

“Hush, mother, we will heal you. Conserve your strength,” Celestia ordered softly, looking to Luna for reassurance.

Luna gave her none, body rigid, and expression one of grim certainty.

Faust took a steadying breath, gathered some of her strength. Her eyes cleared a little, focused on Celestia with careful intent.

“Perhaps before Discord,” Faust replied in measured words. “Or if Iridia were here. Only my sister and I hold knowledge of healing magic. She would only come to spit on my hoof after what I did to her and Namyra. It was my fault! All of it! No, it wasn’t…”

A long growl issued from Faust that turned into a pained wheeze. “The Moirai!”

“Were they the ones you were fighting?”

Faust shook her head. “No. Not Zeus… Fate. Fate? It was a trap. A trap laid before… Before when? They are the weavers. What does that make me? A glorified hoofmaid!”

“You need to calm down, mother.” Luna was the one who spoke and laid her hoof on Faust’s withers this time. “There must be some artifact lying about the disc that we can use.”

“A few, but they are all lost, out of reach, or lack the necessary power,” Celestia said softly.

“Too late for them now,” Faust shivered as she spoke. She was so pale beneath her coat, her lips almost blue.

Tucked in a corner, Twilight darted little glances towards the door as if in search of an escape. Her presence was wrong, intruding on what should have been private. She dared not move and draw attention to herself, and so stayed silent.

Faust issued a sad chuckle that turned into a sharp gasp. She clutched Celestia’s hoof tighter, and her eyes rolled in her head, and her voice took on a low, resonating note when next she spoke. “A red sun approaches. Within it a mouth large enough to swallow worlds, and within that mouth a whirlpool of eyes. Ioka dies, her disc broken in twain, and falls through the void amidst the ruin of worlds.”

“Mother, you are delirious.”

Shivering, sweat running in thick streams through her coat, eye rolling across the room, Faust dragged Celestia closer still. “You must not fight Zeus. You mustn’t! Promise me, Celestia.”

Voice cracking, and tears filling her eyes, Celestia whispered, “I promise, mother.”

With greater intensity, Faust clung to Celestia. “Swear it! On Seung’s grave, swear it.”

Celestia was taken aback a moment, her face twisting with deeper anger and bitterness. She did not answer at once, and when she did her voice was strained, as if she had to pull the words over a vast distance. “On my father’s grave, I swear to you, I will not fight Zeus.”

At last Faust relaxed and sank deeper into the cot. “Good,” she hissed, “this is good. Disaster may be averted.” Her gaze unfocused gaze fell on Twilight, and her face twisted with pain. “Twilight… Come here.”

Twilight jumped at being addressed, unsure what to do. At a nod from Celestia she approached the bed. Her hooves trembled with each step, a nervous tick working its way from the tip of her tail to an ear, and back down again. Tension pulled at the corners of her mouth, and up into her eyes, tightening with each quick beat of her heart.

“Your sister… She…” Faust trembled for a moment until she let out a long, rattling gasp, and her hoof slipped from Celestia’s grasp.

“And this, girls, is…” Iridia frowned, hoof pausing in its sweep over the pass between Equestria and the Taiga. “Actually, I have no idea what this fort is called. It wasn’t here last time I passed this way.”

The quartet of fillies and Fluttershy groaned in unison.

Snow reaching over their pasterns, the crusaders all shivered beneath their home-made cloaks. Shyara just looked irritated, and Fluttershy concerned.

“What do you say to paying them a visit? Get a hot meal and see if any other Halla have crossed the pass.” No sooner had Iridia finished than the crusaders were darting between her hooves looking for a way up to the fort.

There wasn’t one, of course. Unless the cracked, narrow switch-back stairs chiseled some centuries prior into the face of the canyon cliff counted. Which, to Iridia, it did not, what with whole segments missing where they’d slid to the canyon floor, or down the north facing slopes.

Picking up the fillies, Iridia spread her wings and leapt up, closely followed by Fluttershy and a struggling Shyara. Cheering as she floated up, Scootaloo buzzed her miniature wings and thrust out of hoof like she were in a race.

“Isn’t this great?” Scootaloo called to her friends, using what little propulsion her wings provided to spin around a grumpy Sweetie and frightened Apple Bloom.

“It’s alright, I suppose,” Apple Bloom gulped, and took great care not to look down.

Crisp mountain wind fanning her golden mane, Iridia felt much as she’d done so many thousands of years prior as a young mare, leaving the safety and comfort of the herd in search of the fabled city of unicorns, Marelantis. Instead of her little sister bouncing between her hooves, she had a quartet of fillies, and one mystery. And the small patches of forest broken by meadows, low hills, and the black plumes sent up by distant volcanoes were replaced by an endless sea of pine and fir. For a moment, Iridia could smell the lingering sulfur spread by dragons as they surveyed their territories, and hear again the heavy thumps of wings larger than oldest trees commanding the wind to hold the fiery beasts aloft.

Her heart beat faster at the memories, and a wistful smile played at the corners of her mouth. A shimmer ran through the strands of her mane so they seemed like a sheet of polished gold.

So much changes, and yet it is always the same. No matter the lay of the land, or what monsters roamed, the base nature of life remained fixed and resilient.

Reaching the edge of the cloud-stone ledge, Iridia shifted the nature of her magic to allow Apple Bloom and Sweetie to stand on the fluffy white surface. Only a small portion of the fort was made of cloud-stone, a mere tower and most of the courtyard jutting off a natural ledge.

There was nopony to greet the group as their hooves pressed down into the fluffy grey surface.

Unsurprised, Iridia swept up to the thick oak double-doors while Apple Bloom and Scootaloo bounced like they were on a trampoline. Even Sweetie grinned just a little, and Shyara pranced in a wide circle, all under Fluttershy’s anxious gaze. The poor dear darted from filly to filly, warning them to avoid the edge, or patches where the clouds had grown thin.

A growing delight at her decision to stop at the fort filling her breast, Iridia gave the bleached white wood a hefty knock. Echoes of heavy thuds answered, and then nothing for some time. Iridia tapped a hoof, wondering if she’d been wrong, and the fort was abandoned.

Other than a worn rocking chair next to a dirt encrusted iron table near the ledge, there was little to suggest anypony lived in the fort.

She was far from ready to give up and continue into the Taiga when there came the clatter of locks and then the door was pulled open just a crack. Through the slit, peering up at her, were three cherubic, round faces with equally round and large eyes.

“Hello dearies,” Iridia said, putting on her kindest smile. “Is your mother home?”

The eldest nodded.

“Can we see her?”

Those big, round eyes darted to the crusaders, over Fluttershy, and then back to Iridia.

“Please?”

The door snapped shut, and fervent whispering could be heard on the other side.

So far, it was not the worst reception Iridia had received.

A few more minutes flitted by, and then the doors were opened again, this time by a mare in her early thirties. “The princesses have not come to visit us,” she was part way through saying to one of her daughters when she came face to barrel with Iridia, and let out a little gasp. Jumping back, she fell into a steep bow, exclaiming, “Princess Celestia, I’m so sorry for making you wait! W-We didn’t even know you were coming.”

“Well, my niece would hardly fault you,” Iridia said with a pleasant little laugh, “as she doesn’t travel all that much anymore. Court keeps her rather busy.”

The mare looked up at this, confusion crossing her face as she took in Iridia, Fluttershy, and the fillies. “Who…?”

“Iridia, Queen of the Taiga, ruler of all the lands to the north, Goddess of the Spring, Life, Rejuvenation, and Motherhood.” She swept a wing towards the misty forest stretching out north. “I hoped to prevail upon your legion for some warm food and company. My friends and I have been traveling all day, and only have had a few small breaks. The girls in particular could use some time in front of a fireplace.”

“Oh! Yes, come in, please,” the mare pushed the door more fully open, and indicated with a large wing of her own for them to follow.

Formed of a natural cavern network expanded upon over the centuries, the fort had seen better days. A strong, musky scent of old wood and cold stone permeated walls, seeped out of the threadbare rugs tossed over worn oak flooring, and lingered in the bleached tapestries. Here and there doors were blocked off, either by boxes, or nailed shut. Rust covered the hinges, and clung to a few suits of armour on their stands.

The grand hall was in no better shape. Only one of the three hearths held a fire, the others shuttered with tin sheets, and two of the long tables were stacked one atop the other in a corner. Thick cobwebs clung to the rafters, and down to the remaining iron chandelier, chains dangling where the others had been. Cracked glass filled the tall windows, flakes of paint showing where they’d been tinted, but now let the evening sun in unabated.

A group of ponies sat around the high table, six adults listening to the trio of fillies.

“Fie, what a state my niece has allowed her allies to fall!” Iridia tsked, the sound echoing throughout the fort.

Discontent and concern filled the pegasi, each looking to the other for some idea of what to do, or who should talk. It was the ancient matriarch who picked herself up and addressed Iridia. An exemplary pony, vestiges of the strong mare she’d once been showed themselves in the quickness of her mind, even if her body was frail, and wings featherless things hidden beneath blankets. She bade Iridia to sit, and issued a sharp bark to her son-in-law to give a helping hoof in the kitchen.

“We’re going to have us a feast,” she cackled, eyes bright with delight, and a wide toothless grin on her face.

The pre-dinner conversation was filled with the usual pleasantries. Inquiries over the group’s trip, where they were from and headed, and if there were any interesting anecdotes to be shared.

“Mrs. Iridia took us into the, um, Aether Void!” Scootaloo exclaimed happily, drawing a few amused smiles.

“Aetherial currents,” Apple Bloom corrected.

“That’s what I said,” shot back her friend. “It was funny. You were so blue after we popped up on that mountain!”

“Only because we weren’t given enough warning and there ain’t no air in the currents.”

“Sweetie and I didn’t have that problem.”

“Yeah, well, so?”

“You’re the one Zecora has been teaching.”

“What difference does that make?”

“So, don’t you know all about this magical stuff?”

“It’s completely different!”

“Girls,” Fluttershy cut the squabble short, touching the friends ever so slightly on the withers with the tip of a wing. “You’re being rude to our hosts.”

Hanging their heads, Scootaloo and Apple Bloom both apologized.

“Sounds like you’ve had a long trip already,” the matriarch chuckled.

Fluttershy shared stories about her bird chorus with the matriarch’s daughter, and Shyara seemed to be getting along with one of the stallions. Iridia held the most attention, much of the curiosity centered on her when it became known she was the queen of those forests over which the Legion watched, but never dared enter. All the chatter between the various ponies put a bit of colour into the matriarch’s cheeks, and made her eyes twinkle.

By the time dinner was served, they were as old friends. An almost festive atmosphere made the trio of fillies skip as they wheeled in the cart laden with platters and bowls from the kitchen, their father following along with a pleased smile.

“Why did you bring us here?” Fluttershy asked as dinner was served. “I, um, thought we were going to help you take back your throne. Unless you don’t want to anymore. That is okay, too.”

Instead of answering directly, Iridia leaned over to the filly pouring out a heaping portion of steaming broccoli soup. “Do you know who she is?” asked Iridia, indicating the statue behind the matriarch's chair. The filly shook her head, and Iridia continued, “That is the progenitor of your line. Your mother’s mother’s mother by sixty generations, or so. Do you know her name?” Again a negative. “She was—”

“Blizzard Singer, of course. Like our legion,” interjected the eldest of the sisters from down the line.

“Actually, that was her title,” Iridia corrected. “Her name was Oropolla, and she was the Guidepost of Winter’s Fury.”

“That sounds so cool!” Scootaloo exclaimed from down the table. “But, what does that mean?”

“She was a fallen star, deary,” the old matriarch said, blowing on her soup. As if to further her point, she spread her large, tattered wings, pinions faded where they’d not fallen out. “My granddame told me Oropolla was a knight who fought with Princess Luna. Her voice was filled with the haunting song of a hundred blizzards, able to carry a bone chilling frost on her music. Princess Luna and her dozen stars protected Unicornia and all ponykind from the griffons in those days. The valla, they called themselves. They had the most majestic wings. So grand and beautiful. Like they were distant kin to Luna herself. Ain’t that so, your Majesty?”

Iridia tipped her head. “Just so.”

“Why are your wings so small?” demanded one of the fillies in the ensuing lull, her sharp, young voice carrying in the stone hall.

Sinking a little in her chair, self-consciously hiding her dwarfish wings, Scootaloo muttered some response that Iridia did not catch. Her face flushed deep with embarrassment and something else, and she could not lift her eyes off her bowl.

“Scootaloo is a Wren Tichen, a confluence of the three lines of ponykind. You can’t judge a pegasus by the size of their wings. She has a strong, special magic that she simply has yet to discover,” Iridia said, her words bringing a hesitant grin and slight blush to Scootaloo’s face.

This brought the conversation back into full effect, some of the other Blizzard Singers recounting stories of friends who were Tern Pegasi, and how they could fly faster than the west wind, or a Raven Pegasus who was admitted to Honigwein College’s wizard program. Aria spoke at length about a former crush who’d been a Peregrin Pegasus who could not fly at all, unable to control the winds, or even stand on clouds despite having the most beautiful wings, yet he was the most graceful dancer she’d ever laid eyes on. A toast was made to hidden potentials.

“You just made that up, didn’ya?” commented the matriarch behind her glass of wine as the conversation again shifted.

“Of course,” Iridia replied. “But, she is a special filly, nevertheless.”

“Aye. But, isn’t that said of every foal?”

“It may be said, but it would be untrue,” Iridia quickly responded and shook her head. “Those three all have grand destinies ahead of them. My sister’s work is evident, the scent of her touch still lingering and reminding me of ancient days when we both played such prominent roles in events shaping the disc. While I favour a direct approach, she prefers elevating mortals—ponies especially—to the role of hero, guiding their lives and giving them a touch of her own strength. The Elements of Harmony may be her greatest champions, but she has others suited to unique roles. Scootaloo and her friends are just such ponies.”

Iridia sighed, and she could not keep a touch of melancholy from entering her voice.

“I worry for my sister. Faust is… impossible at times. And so infuriating, thinking she has to keep secrets and manipulate everypony. She separates herself, creates a gulf nopony can cross. Not myself, not even Celestia and Luna can make her see reason. She has torn herself into ten-thousand pieces all acting and vying against each other until she lost herself. It is going to lead her astray, I fear.

“So, I will keep her agents close, and give them the protection they deserve. I just wish I knew what my sister intended with them, so that I could shield them from her schemes.”

“Perhaps this is their role,” the matriarch spread a toothless grin. “Keeping you preoccupied with these fillies while she acts elsewhere. The Goddess of Fate can do such things, can’t she?”

Iridia grew silent, and chewed on the idea as much as her radish and carrot salad. At last, she said, “My sister is no more Fate than I am Life. The truth stares everypony in the face, yet they all seem to miss it. Her greatest champions are called the Elements of Harmony not for the artifacts they wield, but for whom they are chosen.”

Dinner continued, and was ready to wind down. The fillies all shifted anxiously in their seats, young energy compelling them to move, and looked at the adults with pleading eyes.

“Aria, deary, why don’t you sing for us? The one I first taught you.” The matriarch reached over and patted her daughter’s leg.

“Yes, a song!” Iridia cried out over the general din in the room. “I would love to hear you sing.”

Aria frowned, but could not refuse her mother, not when a queen was visiting. She moved center of the room, took a deep breath, and everypony fell into a waiting hush.

When she sang, it was as if the gates of Elysium opened to give her voice, such was its purity. In all her years, Iridia could recall only one other with a voice of such stunning quality. She sat, enraptured, as Aria sang the Lament for Harmony.

Oh, Faust, Queen of All Ponykind,
So high above on your Alabaster Throne.
Deaf to our cries you long have grown,
To our despair you have fallen blind.

Thuelesia lost in mists of the forlorn spring,
Our guiding light shines on ponies no more.
Pride, Envy, and Lust blackened hearts bore,
Till we were cast out from beneath your shining wing.

Iridia shifted uncomfortably in her seat. There was something off about the song, an annoyance prickling at the back of her mind, like a hoof pulling at a loose thread. What, she could not say, as the song was so masterfully sung. Aria had one of those rare, one in a million voices. She was the true successor to the greatness of her lineage, as if she were Oropolla reborn.

Cruel horns sound on the ships of Parmeria,
Herald chains bound about pony necks.
Wings fail to shield your plaintive subjects,
Gram lays sheathed in halls of the Halla.

A slight gasp came from Iridia. Her eyes widened as if she were confronted by Leviathan once more. She knew this song. She knew it, as she’d been the one to first give it voice. And had never done so again. Dread filled her gut.

Deep. All encompassing dread.

She could not breath, lips moving in silent mirror to Aria.

The Alabaster Throne stands bereft and bare,
And now we must wander on our own way.
Safety lay in distant valleys far from our enemies we pray,
To lands untamed that wait in Sol’s golden glare.

Oh, Faust, Queen of All Ponykind,
So high above on your Alabaster Throne.

As the last note drifted away, Iridia sat in stone faced silence, eyes closed, and breath shallow as she relived those terrible days so very long ago. She recalled with clarity the day she’d sung the stinging song to Faust, a cruel jab at how pitiless her sister could be at times. A dreadful weight settled in her stomach as she turned over the words Faust had uttered in response, ‘When next you hear this lament, look to the stars. She falls, or I. Look to the stars.’

Everypony else clapped or stamped their hooves, pleasure writ large throughout the rest of the room. Aria blushed, and began to bow, then took notice of the queen. Iridia stood with such force, her face twisted by fear mixed with anger, that the room fell into fearful silence. Fluttershy half stood, hovering between whether to intervene or not.

They were all immaterial. Iridia needed to see the sky. She had to know what was going on in the heavens. The windows of the great hall were too small and dirty, little more than smudges visible beyond their panes.

A short snap, impenetrable black, and then Iridia stood in the fortress’ courtyard, face turned up towards the night. Freezing wind tore at her, whipping through mane and tail, tugging on her wings, and stinging her cheeks. Thick clouds leaden with the weight of growing crystals rolled on a north wind, threatening snow.

Reaching into the core of her being, Iridia touched the essence of spring, warmth, and rejuvenation, banishing the clouds from the night. Grass poked out between the cracks in the stone, and the dryads, calypsos, and orchids natural to the mountains blooming in their planters.

She glared at the stars as she would a misbehaving foal, scanning, searching, and hoping against hope not to see what she so feared.

One minute passed. Then two, and Iridia did not know if she should relax or be more worried.

The others arrived, and with them questions

She did not answer, remaining fixed on the sky. Eyes searching every corner and constellation.

A gasp came from the fillies, Apple Bloom thrusting a hoof towards the east.

Polaris dipped lower, joined by Sirius, Mintaka, Rukbat, and a few others. They jostled amongst themselves, and then Sirius fell from the heavens.

Author's Note

It would appear there is an issue with fimfiction and indenting chapters... At least, there is on my end when I switch from editing to reading mode. Hopefully, it is just something specific to my computer where the indents are removed when no longer editing.

We're almost through this particular story arc. Long time readers no doubt have an idea what will be happening next chapter. Then, we'll finally be reaching Zebrica again.

Remember how I said I was going to stop putting songs into the story? Yeah... this chapter and the next both have songs in them... 'Lament for Harmony' is loosely modeled on Eurielle's 'Lament for Thorin', and 'Song of Durin'. I tried to have the same low cadence, haunting heights, and general tone. Karliene's 'Lament for Boromir' was likewise a minor inspiration.

Welp, I suppose I should go hide in my bunker. I am a terrible person for what I've been putting everypony through the last few chapters.

Book Two: Chapter Seven: The Broken Wish

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duty and Dreams
Chapter Seven: The Broken Wish

No.

The word rang in Twilight’s head, over and over. She wasn’t aware of speaking, of the word gaining voice. Or the six thousand other voices crying out her name in fear. Around her, the disc spun, Faust’s body the only thing in the universe which Twilight could see. She began to fall, tip over, unable to counteract the motion of Ioka swimming through the empty eternities of space. Somepony was there to catch her, a dark wing extending over her back.

Faust… was dead. The Namegiver was dead.

No.

It was impossible. Faust could not die. She was the foundation on which all ponykind had been placed since before recorded history. She gave them their very names, set them on the path they’d walk the rest of their lives. For her to be gone was inconceivable.

The disc needed Faust. What would everypony do when they took the draughts, when they should have heard Faust whisper the names of the foals and were instead met with silence? Panic would grip the disc like had not been known since the darkest times. The Old Queendoms, already unstable, would fall into anarchy. War, conflict, disharmony; they were inevitable.

Yet it was the devastated tears beginning to well in Celestia’s eyes, her chest heaving in a heavy sob as she gripped her mother, that hit Twilight the hardest. Every fibre of her being recoiled in horror, twisted around itself, and screamed in silence.

No…

Twilight staggered back, slipping from Luna’s support even as she sought a denial of what was happening. Some reassurance that she was wrong. That Faust had just fallen into a deep, deathlike sleep. That everything would be fine.

Such fleeting, fragile hopes were crushed by the taught rage held in Luna’s jaw. Mane darkening, then shifting to a brilliant silver hue, Luna whispered a private word to Faust, then kissed her mother on the brow a final time.

“No!”

Twilight spun as the denial left her, stumbling from the great cabin. Her breaths came in short, haggard gasps. She didn’t hear Luna call after her, or Celestia plead with her sister to give chase. Fleur stood half in the short, narrow passage between the great cabin and the deck that divided the two sets of cabins.

Her mouth moved, and words came forth, but they were jumbled, wrong to Twilight’s ear. Pity shifted to concern when Twilight forced her way past.

The ocean air was warm and close, even at night, cloying in her mouth, and forming a thick dew over canvas and wood. It was suffocating. Stealing her breath. Working through her fur as if it were a soaked blanket.

Even as she succumbed to panic, a part of her worked the problem.

Faust was dead.

Faust must be healed.

Healing magic stronger than Faust herself used to save Pinkie on Marelantis.

What did she have at her disposal? Very little in her magical repertoire. Teleportation, shields, transmutation, a few enchantments, and some battle magic; all useless. What else? She had to be able to accomplish something with all her power. She was supposed to be the Goddess of the Stars and Wishes, if… Wishes? A wish?

Twilight spun again, and found herself surrounded by concerned ponies. Pinkie, Rainbow, Luna, Fleur, and Captain Hardy were all there, each trying to offer what comfort or assistance they could give. She did not respond to sympathy. Time was short, Twilight was certain. They needed a miracle. They needed a wish.

She separated her essence from her body without being fully cognisant of what she was about to attempt. Portions of her mind ground to a halt, were compartmentalized, so she could focus only on what needed to be done.

Before she reached the heavens the sounds of the stars arguing could be heard. Sirius and a few others gathered above the Bellerophon, their lights flashing in time to their raised voices.

“The mistress comes! We do not have time to argue about this anymore, Polaris.” Sirius thrust a glimmering, pointed light towards Twilight. “She comes to do as Luna did before, and cast one of our sisters from the heavens.”

“Perhaps she will see reason?” There was a worried, desperate air to Polaris’ plea.

Rukbat shook in a slow, sad bob. “She is torn apart, hun, and only knows she has to try something. And I can’t say she is wrong.”

“So much despair and confusion. She can not understand what has happened. We all can feel it,” Mintaka lamented. “It is the night we lost Zana all over again!”

Mintaka’s terrified cries should have slowed Twilight. Altered her course, warned her against what she was about to attempt. All she knew was that she had to try. That the disc required Faust, and that she was the only pony able to bring her back.

“I can talk to her. She will listen to me. I am her Lodestar and guide,” Polaris shouted to her sisters, dipping lower in the sky to intercept her oncoming mistress. “Mistress… Please listen!”

Twilight didn’t hear Polaris’ pleas, her mind busy with equations and estimations. She’d never formed a wish before, had no data on how it would work, or how much energy would be required. Enough for two wishes, at least. Even in her frantic state, she recalled Luna’s lessons on what it’d been like to grant wishes, and try to form one for herself.

But, this wish wasn’t for herself. It was for Celestia. It was for Ioka.

Polaris was powerful. One of the most powerful of her stars. Would she be enough? She had to be enough.

Twilight reached out.

Polaris glowed with shock mingled with fright, giving her a pink-blue hue.

“No!” Sirius shouted, darting down, placing herself between her sister and mistress.

“Sirius!” Several voices cried together as Twilight’s essence surrounded the Firestar.

“She needs you more than me,” Sirius reached out a plaintive light towards Polaris, then she was flung from the night.

Essence crackling, Twilight stared in shock at what she’d done. There was no time for reflection, for self-doubt. She was fully committed.

The night sky trembled with a tremendous crack, every edge and land in between echoing with its report. The ancient magic that helped keep Sirius aloft in the sky fought her sudden motion, trying to cling to the star as she gained speed and momentum. Strengthening her grip, Twilight pushed Sirius harder against the barrier. Then the magic lost its grip, and the air around Sirius ignited as the star tumbled toward the earth.

A deep throaty roar filled Twilight’s senses with noise and light, flaming tendrils of Sirius coiled about her essence as they fell together. Twilight gathered the cast-off aether, bundled and bound it about her, refused to let any escape.

Sirius tried to control her fall a little, flicking a piece of her magic to one side so she began to spin and tumble. She smiled as she passed over the towns and fields of Zebrica, the land's occupants, awoken by the initial explosion, filtering out of their homes to watch the spectacle. More and more pieces of magic broke away from Sirius, the star hissing in pain.

Even that was a novelty, Sirius having never experienced physical pain before.

Her magic burned away in a corona of white light as she fell. Sensations that she'd never experienced before began to flood into her, and echo into Twilight. She could feel as Sirius’ magic was pulled, stretched and crystallized. Little magic escaped Sirius now, and Twilight let go, and watched in morbid fascination as Sirius completed her fall.

Fire and agony filled Sirius, coursed through her new body. Pain gave way to an odd sense of pressure focused at a point before her. The light peeled back and she blinked, wind pulling at lips and eyelids. For a brief moment Sirius was neither a star, nor was she whatever she was becoming. And then she felt the oddest sensation yet, a dull throb inside her as her new heartbeat for the first time. A laugh, joyful and pure, bubbled from her newly formed throat.

Wracked with laughter and screams, she fell lower and lower, entered the lower clouds, and was lost from sight. The cloud bubbled, hissed, and was pulled by Sirius’ passage until the former star burst out the other side like a golden spear. Rain splashed across her new face and onto her wings, tickling senses she'd never before possessed. The thin cords that bound Twilight and Sirius frayed further, then snapped, a void in the place where Sirius once rested in the fabric of Twilight’s consciousness.

Far beneath Twilight there was a flash as Sirius crashed into the earth. The ground shook for miles as the former star dug a deep wound into rock and mud. Incorporeal, invisible, Twilight hovered over the crater, clutching the pure aether gathered from Sirius’ fall close about her, then darted off to complete her task.

High above, Sirius' sisters wept, their tears showering through the night in fiery displays. As they wept they listened for the inevitable; for the Wishes.

Twilight wasted no time. She did not know how long there was to accomplish her primary task. There was so much energy, more than several hundred unicorns could manage working in concert, and all of it of such an unusual, primal variety. The stars were from a time before time, when creation had been shaped by thought and dreams alone. With it, Twilight could reshape the disc to her whims. The sensations that came from so much power, it was… like tasting the sweetest nectar.

For a brief moment she brushed against omniscience. She could see every outcome to every action, and change it to her own desires.

Nothing was beyond possibility.

Not the circumstances of birth: a pauper could become a princess, the weak made strong, the slow fast, and the comely beautiful.

Not the effects of Time: hours, years, or centuries able to be spun forwards, or back as with the case of the ancient wish Twilight previously granted. The old could be made young once more, healthy and vital, the threads of Fate extended.

Not the whims of Fate: bodies healed, fortunes reversed, cities restored, or destroyed. Entire nations could be risen from the ashes of history, should she have so chosen.

Twilight knew she was dealing with forces beyond her ken. There would be consequences to rewriting reality. Had she been herself, not lost to despair, Twilight would have made some attempt at studying the confluence of magic and how it could reshape reality.

Then she hit the first barrier. A rule. One she’d forgotten. Or, had she ever been told? It didn’t matter which.

The Dead could not be brought back to Life.

No, that was an error, the dead could be revived, but she could sense resistance. The God of the Dead was defending his domain from her intrusion. Preventing her from exploring avenues that ordinarily would be left open to her. His stubbornness was unnecessary. The pony Twilight sought to resurrect was not under his purview.

Brushing against his mind, Twilight felt the echo of some request, of a simple, pleading wish. Granting it required essentially no effort on her part, would not even take any of the considerable energy at her disposal, and would lessen the resistance to her true goal. She granted the wish without further thought.

A similar barrier was being thrown up by Cadence, protecting the strands of love binding ponies together.

There was no wish from Cadence, only worry, and Twilight moved on.

Bracing herself, Twilight stretched out towards the great cabin of the Bellerophon.

Twilight, finally, hesitated. She had no idea how to accomplish her goal.

Two schools of thought dominated on the subject of magic. The first held magic as a science. Results were repeatable. If the same runes were used in the same formation and aether was applied, identical results would be achieved no matter the caster involved. This was the magic Twilight loved, poured every fibre of her being into learning since she’d picked up her first book, and sat in the library, listening to Whisper mutter to herself as she worked on her thesis. It was the methodology of all practitioners going back to the Dark Era, and further still to even Marelantis.

In contrast were those ponies who held magic as some art form, transient, shifting, and flowing through the practitioner. A living force in and of itself. One that was guided, but never truly controlled. Twilight always found the philosophy the refuge of the unlearned or uneducated. Not the stupid, per se, merely those ponies that had never received proper instruction or apprenticeship and so just didn’t know any better. This was the philosophy of Glitterdust, Twilight’s third mom the quintessential example of going with the flow when working magic.

Now, Twilight had to navigate uncharted shoals, and all she could do was ride the currents and direct the course as best she could manage.

Bundling together Sirius’ cast-off energy, Twilight directed her being towards Faust’s crumbling body. Traces of the dead goddess’ essence lingered in the air, like the smell of charcoal the morning after a fire. Twilight grabbed hold of these traces, and pulled, tugging on them as she would a thread. At the edges of awareness hovered the desperate pleas of the wishes being gathered by her stars, and beyond them Luna and Celestia shouting her name. Putting all the distractions aside, Twilight compartmentalised herself. A small fragment dealt with the other wishes, while the remainder focused on the task before her.

Slowly, Faust’s essence was drawn back to the disc, spooling the gathered aether inside her broken, devastated body. Through the gashes and wounds, the aether spilled. Her body was like a sieve. Twilight could see the wounds more clearly now, the physical, and those deeper still that the doctor could not begin to treat. Simply returning Faust’s essence to her body would not bring her back.

Being gentle would not work.

Reaching further along the trail of essence, Twilight attempted to gather it all at once. Again, she flew across the disc. Not to the heavens, but westward, towards Equestria. Out over the roiling ocean, beneath a natural storm, Twilight found the greater mass of Faust’s essence. Across crashing waves stalked a ruby cloud like a wild animal on the prowl.

Twilight recognised the shade, Faust’s shade, so similar to what she’d encountered in Ponyville the night of her ascension. As with Astraea, Faust was more animal than pony, a growl issuing from her at Twilight’s approach. Faust swiped at Twilight with a giant, monstrous claw, then tried to dart away.

Even more determined, Twilight slammed into Faust. She could not allow another shade to be let loose on the disc. Howls and the close clap of thunder assailed Twilight as she and Faust bounced across and through the waves. Faust let out a shriek, and tried to bite Twilight or rake her with spectral claws. Using a portion of Sirius’ energy, Twilight enveloped Faust, calmed her, and put her shade into a trancelike stupor.

With Faust’s essence held close, Twilight returned to the Bellerophon.

She found herself at the center of another storm, this one of ponies. For a few seconds, Twilight had the experience of looking down on herself, something to which she would never get used to seeing. They clamoured about her, shouted her name, tugged at her, tried to pull her away from Faust.

Her work was not yet done.

Filled with so much energy, from both Sirius and Faust, Twilight moved quickly. She pulled and stretched, mended and bent, undoing the damage to Faust’s body and essence. Bandages burst into indigo flames at her touch, pieces of ash floating across the cabin, pushed by the waves of coalescing energy radiating from Twilight and Faust. Feathers grew, white, pristine, pure. Melted flesh gained new vitality, grew taut and then was covered by a soft, downy layer of fur. Ruddy rust tones gave way to a flowing ruby mane, as if it were formed of threads spun from gemstone dust. Into her restored body, Faust’s essence was thrust, bonding together as they’d been before.

In her chest, Twilight felt something snap, and she fell back. All the magic taken from Sirius was gone, spent. If she’d failed, then Faust was truly gone.

Faust took a deep, desperate breath, eyes flying open as she shot up from her bed.

Luna covered her mouth, tears rimming her eyes at seeing her mother restored. “By the sun and moon, Twilight; what have you done?”

Confusion pinched Faust’s brows together, and she slowly looked about the cabin, taking in the faces of the ponies arrayed before her. They darted over Pinkie, Rainbow, and Timely without so much as slowing, and avoided Fleur entirely. It was Celestia, Luna, and Twilight that received all her attention.

“A sun, moon, and stars; faces familiar, yet not; foes? Or be you friends?” Faust asked, the ‘Royal Canterlot Voice’ deafening in such close confines. “Identify yourselves, and be quick.”

Celestia darted a quick look to Luna then Twilight, and in that glance took the lead. “I am Celestia, and this is my sister, Luna, and our cousin, Twilight. Do you recognise us?”

“No, I do not, and I know all the aethyr. From the mighty, who shine like beacons of order in the swirling chaos, to the low, who await the commands of their betters.” Faust shook her head.

Each word filled Twilight with an ever vaster dread. Something had gone terribly wrong. Gone was the gentle, otherworldly air Faust carried, replaced by a hardened figure. Arrogant anger flashed in her eyes, with jaw set at an imperious angle. Her eyes began to glow red as Faust touched her domain, rather than the pure light every time before.

“Impossible!” Faust took a step back, and the glow faded as it was replaced by shock. “How can you be my kin? We are aethyr, we do not breed as the nascent mortals do. We are pure creations, not things little better than the basest of beasts, who rut and fornicate in the fields. Yet you come from me? Me! I would think this some trick, but the Weave is clear, and none but my dearest friends, the Moirai, have the power to manipulate the strands but I.”

Not moving from her spot, wings spread to hold back the others, Celestia asked, “Mother, what is your last memory before waking here?”

Faust hesitated to respond, face scrunched up in thought. When she next spoke, her voice had lost its previous power so it seemed to be a whisper compared to before, though she talked normally. “Iridia and I… We had sealed Yol-Distoph, the Weaver on the Black Silk, with the others of her ilk, and spent much of ourselves in the process. Reality collapsed, or was it born? I can not say. For a time beyond count there was nothingness as we fell through a void. Iridia, she shielded us, and then we saw something in the endless blackness. A great beast born of the battle with a world astride her back. She identified herself as Ioka, and made us a bargain. We would find a home upon her disc, and in return provide protection and guidance to the civilizations she carried, spread out like jewels on her back, but to do so we would need to understand the mortals. Then… I was here.”

The dreadful pit in Twilight’s stomach fell further and further as Faust spoke. A wing was stretched over her back, and when she looked up she saw Luna at her side.

Leaning in close, Luna whispered, “Do not fear, all will be fine.”

Next to them, Celestia continued to focus on Faust, and took a step closer. “Mother—”

“Do not call me that,” Faust hissed, upper lip curled to reveal her teeth.

Celestia pressed ahead. “Mother,” she said with more force, “your memories have been damaged. If you come home with me—”

“I will go nowhere with you, oh sun,” Faust countered. “I do not know what tricks you mean to ply, and I will have none of them.”

“I was going to suggest we find a quiet place for you to meditate and figure out how to help you,” Celestia said. “Iridia has been staying with us in Canterlot, and may be able to provide you with some comfort. Look at me through the Weave, and you’ll see that all I want is the best for you.”

Faust hesitated and considered the ponies arrayed before her again. Pinkie and Rainbow, who shone with the power of their Elements; Fleur, filled with Athena’s brilliant light; Twilight, wrapped in Luna’s wing; Luna herself, who held such anger towards the one who’d harmed her; and finally Celestia, whose core blazed with love and hope; Faust saw them all so clearly in the Weave.

“You have spoken only the truth.” Faust, at last, lost her defensive stance. “I do not understand what has transpired, but I see no malevolence among your number.”

“Thank you for trusting us. Trust is the foundation on which a friendship is best formed,” Celestia said with great relief. She then turned to Twilight and Luna. “Sister, I would like it if you stayed with Twilight. I will send for Cadence once I’ve settled mother in Canterlot. For the time being, it is best if we are not alone. And, Twilight, please make sure Luna doesn’t go galloping off looking for a fight.”

Twilight gave a slow nod, while Luna huffed and looked away. Under her breath, Luna muttered, “Fine. Keep me bridled, and let the enemy have free rein.”

“Sister… Please.”

“I know, it is only because you care and worry so. I will keep Twilight safe.”

“Thank you. And, please, teach her more about the stars and wishes. A repeat of tonight would be disastrous.”

With that, and a few more instructions that Twilight did not fully hear as her thoughts swam with guilt, Celestia teleported with Faust to Canterlot.

Twilight sagged, though with relief or despair, she could not say. Her mind was torn, and now with the crisis past, she fully began to comprehend her actions. Profound weariness claimed her and almost made her collapse.

She found herself helped to her bed where she quickly fell into a deep, almost trancelike sleep. Her last moments were filled with worry for Sirius, and how she could ever make amends to the now former star.

A long gasp rattled from Sirius as she awoke. Hot air burned in her mouth, stung her eyes, and hung all about her. The gasp turned into a moan, then a yelp, as Sirius took in the crater within which she lay. All about her the stone glowed red-hot and burned whenever she tried to move.

Her legs wobbled beneath her weight as she tried to stand. She was so weak, squishy, and in pain. Every breath stung in her raw throat, each twinge of a muscle turned into an agonizing spasm.

How did the mortals stand to be so… frail?

Sirius’ love and compassion for ponykind only grew as she tested out her new body.

Then again, they knew no other existence.

As she began to gain a small grasp of moving her legs without tripping, Sirius became aware of being watched. Her ears flicked towards the intruder, such a novel feeling, the rest of her following in an uncertain, and unbalanced, motion that sent her back to the hot ground with a thump.

There was a light, foalish snicker from the gloom, and then a glowing pink cloud tumbled down over the crater’s lip.

Sirius recognised the shade at once, and laughed in happy relief.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded. “I thought we agreed that you would stay near Talona.”

The shade bobbed and spun, and let out a series of pulses.

“No, I didn’t tell Twilight or the others about you, the filly, or even Gilda. I still find your reasons not at all sound. Twilight will not hurt you or the filly.” Sirius would have frowned, or perhaps shaken her head, but such expressions were unfamiliar to the former star, and so she simply wore a deadpan stare.

A shudder, quicker pulses, and the shade curled in on itself a little.

“Yes, her encounter with Astraea was… difficult, but she is a good pony.”

Towards the heavens the shade thrust a translucent limb, and then darted around Sirius.

“What she did to me… The mistress was in pain and needed to act. It is no different than when Luna cast Zana out, except that Twilight is our true, sovereign mistress.” Sirius paused and let out a huff. “She surprised me. I didn’t think Twilight had it in her to make the hard sacrifices. Twilight earned my respect and loyalty this night.”

The shade stared, and shook itself sadly.

Then a new voice scraped against Sirius’ ears. One that filled her with all encompassing dread.

“You never change, sis. You speak such blue! Ha-ha-ha!” Laughter, high pitched with hint of manic delight, bounded out of the night. “The Firestar! Most loyal among all our sisters, willing to turn a blind eye to the worst of flaws.”

With the laughter came a burst of magic, silver-black against the dark tapestry of the fading night. Long tendrils lashed towards the shade, encircling it like a poisoned bramble patch. The shade darted back, only to be caught from behind be a second spell. A howl like a lioness caught in a trap rippled from the shade as it was pierced by the magic’s thorns and held fast in place.

“No!” Sirius yelled, and tried to stagger towards the shade, only to trip over her own hooves. “Who goes there? Show yourself, coward.”

“Who is this accusing me of cowardice? Why, big sis Sirius, all beat up and bruised, stinking of crimson and green.” Long cackles flowed down into the crater as a head popped up over the rim. Algol skipped down the crater, hooves hissing with each step over the still smouldering ground. “What are you doing down here, sis, among the foul stench of black spun lies? You think that thing pink? That it will help you?”

Algol indicated the shade with a flip of a majestic wing.

Sirius knew fear, deep, consuming fear. She pushed herself up and took a quick step back, cringing as the frog of her new hoof was burnt. Her wings spread to form a wall between her sister and the shade. Around them appeared a dozen zebras, next to each an ifrit, the fiery spirits glowing like embers. They watched the exchange with grim interest.

“Get on with it then,” Sirius snapped, chest puffed out. “Kill me then, like you did our sisters.”

“Kill you? So black. Black as the moonless night. I do not need to kill you, big sis, just contain you. I can not have you run off and guide some hero to ruin my plans. Some feathered, beaky, ugly hero.” Sirius cringed as Algol reached out a wing, and patted her gently on the cheek. The pat was followed by a sharp blow that drove Sirius to the ground.

“Do not worry. I have made a very good friend who will take care of you. She has such a red-silver tongue. You will like her, I am sure.”

Algol’s laughter followed Sirius as she lost consciousness.

“Mr. Hades, can we rest for a bit?” Soir whined into his ear. Lying on his back, with hooves entwined in his mane so she wouldn’t fall. Beneath them, several hundred lengths down, the southern edge Esponya rippled by in golden fields and dry scrublands. Abruptly, the land dropped away as they flew over the edge of a mesa, and into a craggy set of hills broken by narrow canyons and thin streams, with copses of trees here and there like green tufts of hair. Birds of all sorts flitted about, with giant eagles and bright songbirds flying for a time with the pair before they headed off back to their nests.

Among the dry lands, built up the sides of the hills, shone the white villages of the southern lands, red tile roofs glowing in the evening light. Narrow lanes wound their way back and forth up to the manors of lords, or castles built in ancient days when griffons had pushed north into the lands of ponykind.

Colourful little figures moved about the streets and gathered in the shades of umbrella to share discussions on the gossip and news of the day over little cups of coffee. A few ponies made their way up a road connecting the village to a narrow, little bay. Rocks jutted up just beyond the headlands, with wild currents evident in the rippling choppy waters around their bleached faces. Further along stood the straits that separated Esponya from the lands ruled by dragons.

“I’m getting sleepy,” Soir continued, stifling a long yawn with her hoof.

Hades sighed at the constraints of Soir’s mortal body, and tipped his wings to bring them into a wide turn. As he did so, he cast a minor spell to hide his true nature. Mortals were too frustrating when they either begged for favours or prostrated themselves, especially so when he needed some service from them.

A small number of ponies looked up as his shadow whistled along the street. His hooves came down, skipped lightly across the stone, and he came to a stop at the door to an inn on the edge of the village next to the lane to the bay.

Soir nodded off before he pushed his way into the narrow bar that made up the inn’s first floor. A fat innkeeper, round faced and sweaty, an exceptionally ordinary member of his profession, looked up at Hades’ entrance.

“We require a room,” Hades stated, and then looked behind the counter to the lines of bottles, “and a bowl of wine.”

The innkeeper attempted to strike a conversation with his unusual guests, inquiring about where they were from, where they were going, and how their travels had been so far, but gave up when Hades merely repeated his orders.

“Two bits for the room, and another five for the wine,” the innkeeper said, not moving to fetch the key or wine, but giving Hades a sour frown.

Hades own frown grew fouler, and then he mentally hit himself. He wasn’t wearing any saddle bags, and didn’t have a pouch tied about his neck where money could be kept. To any mortal eye, he appeared utterly destitute. Turning a little so the innkeeper couldn’t see what he was doing, Hades reached into the winterlands, and from the misty realm between realms retrieved a small satchel. Held in the crook of his wing, Hades turned back so the innkeeper could see him reach inside and retrieve a narrow bar of gold marked with the crest of the underworld. Several more such bars clinked inside the bag as he moved it back beneath his wing, as if it’d been there the whole time.

“This will suffice.” The bar landed on the counter with a heavy, ringing thud.

“That it will,” the innkeeper agreed after he tested its weight with his hoof. He produced a key, and then set about pouring some wine while Hades went upstairs and laid Soir to rest, curled up in the single large bed.

When Hades came back down, the innkeeper again tried to start a conversation, a greedy light shining in his green eye. “So, you and your daughter on a trip? Be staying long?”

Hades snatched up his wine, and snapped, “She is not my daughter,” before he stomped his way out of the inn, and down the road.

Thoughts in a flurry, face twisted with centuries of contained emotion, he was not stopped on his way to the shore. Rather than continue down to the docks, Hades turned off the worn cobblestones and wandered along the rocky beach until he came to the end of the headlands. Wine set down beside him, Hades stared off across the waters, heart heavy with fear for his Artemis.

Alone, he drank and brooded until night fell and the stars came out. The wine was of poor quality, the kind to be expected from a small, provincial mortal establishment, nothing like the fine wines Hades collected in his mausoleum-like cellars. Which made it perfect, the bitter, almost acrid taste a mirror to his mood.

Why did she run away? Why did his little filly abandon her home, abandon him? Leave him in such squalor and misery, with only a dead garden turned graveyard to occupy his gloomy thoughts?

Such questions were cyclical, ran around and around in his head as he sank deeper into the wine. He allowed his natural resistance to ebb, to let the fog of drunkenness seep over him. Head on a piece of storm-tossed driftwood, he wallowed for the first time since Zeus had pulled him from Tartarus to begin their cross worlds journey.

In a not-so-secret corner of his heart, Hades enjoyed wallowing, being wrapped in morose thoughts as the night settled in overhead. That was something Tartarus sorely lacked; a proper night complete with crescent moons and the gentle twinkle of stars. It was a comfort, of sorts, and soon he wriggled as the wine seeped deeper.

Artemis would be fine, he told himself.

She was a strong mare, like her mothers. Stronger than him, that was certain.

Artemis was the only goddess other than Athena to best one of the Olympians. Niomedes, the Goddess of the Hunt, and Alke, the Goddess of Courage and Sports, both lost their duels with Artemis, though all had come away relatively unharmed from the fights. A few wild places destroyed, an army or two caught in the crossfire, but nothing so spectacular as what Zeus and Faust caused in their battle.

How Hades wished he could have witnessed firsthoof his Artemis at last spread her wings. He just wished he could have spent more time with his little filly before she grew up.

Bowl of wine emptied, Hades stood, intending to return to the inn and keep watch over Soir.

She reminded him of Artemis, with such an indomitable spirit, headstrong, and willing to stand her ground against him. A feat few full fledged gods accomplished.

A single tear fell from Hades’ eye, landing with a crystal chime upon the stone. He glanced at the impossible tear, but it was far from the second he’d shed in the last few years. With a simple motion of his hoof Hades swatted the offending tear into the ocean and once more cast his sight aloft. As he did he beheld as Sirius began her fall.

Hades breath caught in his throat at the sight of the sparkling trail left by the falling star.

Watching the delicate flames of the descending light, Hades opened his heart.

As I sit where sea meets earth,
my heart is torn in two with memories,
like a sword cleft it in twain
spilling my sorrow as if it were blood!

The star sped up as it fell lower and lower, Hades voice mirroring the star’s descent.

I miss you so much,
so very, very much!
My Mates are gone!
My youngest daughter is dead!
I miss you all so much!

As the chorus finished, the first burst of magic echoed off the star. Spreading his wings, Hades lifted his head high, letting the song consume his entire being.

This anguish becomes an anchor,
that weighs the soul with your loss!
I wish I could see you again, look into your midnight eyes,
To say I'm sorry and hug you for the first time!

I miss you so much,
so very, very much!
My wives are gone!
My youngest daughter is dead!
I miss you all so much!

The sword pierces deeper and deeper every day,
that I did not let you spread your wings and fly!
Dearest Daughter, I have wronged you so,
And never could I make amends for those callous wounds!

I miss you so much,
so very, very much!
My Mates are gone!
My youngest daughter is dead!
I miss you all so much!

The star drew closer and closer. Just as the star was over head, his eyes flashed open, staring straight into the tempest above and in his heart.

Hear my plea, oh falling star,
Bring back to me my lost child!
Let me make amends,
Let me at least say good-bye!

As the final notes drifted over the narrow straits, the star flashed, and Hades ears pricked up. Somepony was attempting to intrude on his domain, inexpertly plucking at the nature of death and the pathways to Tartarus. A wry smile tugged at the edges of Hades’ mouth, and a slow, morbid chuckle left him in a slow wheeze.

It took no effort, even in his inebriated state, to bar the intruder, touching on her mind briefly as he did so. On the other side he beheld a mind torn by grief, and set to singular purpose. She saw him, in turn, saw the fervent wish that infused his being.

There was a ripple in the air, like two competing tides coming together at the outflow of a river. Perception was distorted, twisted, and then settled as a silver lined hole was opened before Hades.

Through the rift, Hades saw the mountains and forests of the distant Taiga. The scenery was completely irrelevant, as he saw only Fluttershy. She was so beautiful, the petals in her mane glowing in the moonlight, her face framed by stars, highlighting the concern in the corners of her eyes. Her hoof was extended, resting on Iridia’s withers, the pair staring up at the night together.

Around them milled a group of mortals, and it was one of them who spotted Hades and the rift the same moment he spoke.

“Artemis.” The name left Hades in a rush.

She spun at his voice, as did the group of ponies. Their eyes all widened, and a few of the pegasi took frightened steps back. Not so the fillies, a trio of which broke off from the adults to approach the rift.

“Daddy?” Fluttershy squeaked, retreating behind her mane and the tall goddess beside her.

“‘Daddy’?” queried Iridia, a curious eyebrow lifted in Fluttershy’s direction.

Shrinking lower, Fluttershy blushed, and said, “Oh, um, not my dad. I mean her dad. Artemis’, that is. Hades, the God of the Dead, and Lord of the Underworld,” she gestured towards the rift, then towards Iridia, introducing her in turn.

“You are unharmed,” relief flooded from Hades in a heavy wave, leaving him light, almost giddy. Two centuries of dread, building upon itself moment to moment, abandoned him.

Guilt swept across Fluttershy’s features, drawing her further behind Iridia, gaze dropping to the stones between her hooves. Very softly, she asked, “What are you doing here, dad? Shouldn’t you be in Tartarus? I mean, the city needs you. Not that I am sad to see you. It is just, um, a surprise.”

“I came to take you home, of course,” Hades scoffed, bridge of his muzzle curling at the ludicrous question as much as the bite in his voice. “For two centuries you have been all I could think about. How I lost you. How everything was taken from us. We were happy, once—”

“We were not happy, dad,” Fluttershy’s head shot up, the glimmer of magic making her turquoise eyes shine brighter. “Not me—her—us,” Fluttershy let out a little, pained squeak, hoof coming up to the side of her head.

Concern welled in Hades’ breast. Something was wrong with his daughter. She was confused, that was obvious, and believed herself to be somepony else. Hades could see the truth writ across the fibres of her essence, even if she denied them. There were hints of a ‘Fluttershy’ lingering in the corners, small traces that contained a slight pull, but it was his Artemis before him.

Hades’ jerked his head back as if he’d been bucked as realisation dawned.

His Artemis had come close to being destroyed, and to survive took a mortal host. In due time, her divine spark won out over the unfortunate mortal, and reclaimed her godhood. A nigh unforgivable act. And she wished to avoid punishment.

A laugh almost broke from Hades. He, perhaps of all the gods, was most fitting to judge Artemis’ crime. The souls of mortals were under his purview. Each was precious, and utterly irreplaceable.

It was much as he’d feared since his encounter with Rarity. Worry persisted in distant corners that his Artemis’ fate had been no different. Seeing her, seeing what had happened, he was relieved beyond measure, and that relief stole any anger that may have formed otherwise. As much as his very fibre recoiled at the loss of any soul, he rejoiced at finding his daughter whole, and could not bring himself to judge her harshly for her actions.

“It is alright, Artemis, the—”

“Fluttershy!” The glimmer in her eyes grew, until little motes of light began to leak from the corners almost like tears. “My, um, my name, it is Fluttershy.”

Hades sensed magic, ancient, powerful magic, within the gaze leveled on him. Magic that belonged to the stars. A potent compulsion attempted to bend his will towards her own, to make him acquiesce and even shy away. Tendrils sought pathways to the great guilt lying just beneath the surface, seeking to use it against him. Tormented as he was by the loss of near all he loved, even though an alicorn and ancient beyond the measures of time, Hades would have succumbed with hardly any resistance to the encroaching enchantments.

It was one of the filly’s that broke the trance, freeing Hades before the magics could begin to work their way too deep.

Darting up to the window, Sweetie demanded, “My sister! If you are the alicorn of the dead, then give me back my sister!”

She made to reach for him, perhaps to grab hold and not let go until he relented, or maybe to beat her hooves against his chest, but the moment she touched the rift, the magic keeping it open broke, and the distant mountaintop vanished. Staggering back, Hades’ heart raced at the sudden vacuum left by the loss of Fluttershy’s stare. He sucked quick breaths between clenched teeth, a violent heat building throughout every muscle and sinew.

Rearing, Hades unleashed a maddened howl.

“Betrayal! They dare turn my precious Artemis against me?” He crashed back down with such force the rock on which he stood was split. “The fools! I will strip this world bare of every pony that ever dared to utter prayers to those who corrupted her, the greatest light of my life, bent and twisted now to their whims. Their bones will litter the towns they call home, and their souls will be cast into the bleak wastelands beyond my city’s walls. They will find no peace even in death, and should a thousand years pass, they will be barred from returning to the Font of life. For what has been done to me, I will do a hundred fold to the gods of this worlds.

“No! Not every pony. Their first-born alone will know the brunt of my vengeance. Every first born foal will have their breaths stifled, from the daughter of the mightiest queens, to the poor who tend looms or work in servitude, and be thrown into a death-like slumber. Kept in this manner out of reach, tearing at heartstrings, threads of hope fraying until the living collapse in despair. I will spare none. They will scream and lament their foals as I must mine, and they will know that it is their gods who are to blame for their suffering.”

He paced as he raged, back and forth, forth and back again, hurling curse after curse into the empty air. The crack in his horn healed, and Hades was filled with almost forgotten vitality. His beard, mane, and tale took on a smokey, silvery aspect, like the wisps of a ghost seen in the corner of the eye.

“She thought to lure me into a trap. The stars of this world… You will learn the full breadth of such folly.”

Over his withers Hades threw a mantle of death. A terrible miasmic curse, it flowed from his being, seeped into the ground to turn it fallow, and made the air cloy in the throat.

Crickets fell silent, and the water lapping against the rock grew choked with the bodies of dead fish. Hades spun, and returned to the small village, a whisper of thanes appearing about him on silent wings. Tenebrae charged with reaping those who died in peace, the thanes were dark as their lord, just as grim, and devout to their duty.

The air was still, and the night grew cold as Hades set hoof on the threshold to the inn. A short distance away lay the narrow gate to the village proper. Through the white painted arch flowed the thanes. Each to a different house they went and slipped inside by way of windows and locked doors. When the emerged again, they carried each the soul of a young filly, still sound asleep.

Along the winding road the thanes spread, the number of young souls climbing with each house visited. If some part of Hades recoiled in disgust at the curse he spread, it was impotent against the great rage boiling through his heart.

“Keep them safe, I may have need of them later,” he commanded the thanes, then he entered the inn alone.

Silence gripped the taproom, empty of patrons and the innkeep long since retired to his bed.

Hades looked up, to the thin boards separating him from the rooms overhead where Soir slept.

Up the rickety stairs he swept, the boards too afraid to groan under his weight.

A single candle, resting on the table next to Soir’s bed, flickered, and then gutted as he entered her room. She wriggled beneath the scratchy sheets, one hoof sticking out over the bed’s edge. Hades loomed over Soir, his expression equal to that of the bare face of a tombstone. He reached out with a wing, brushing back a forelock from her face.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled as she sat up and rubbed away the sleep. “Is it morning already?” A long yawn stretched across the little room, and she peered out the window to the golden line of light heralding the approach of dawn. When she turned back to Hades, she gave a little start, and asked, “Are you alright? You look… different.”

“I will be fine,” Hades brushed off her concern and hurried her from the room. “Let us be on our way to Twilight. I am eager to meet her.”

“Alright!” Soir jumped up onto his back as they left the inn, wrapping her hooves in his mane.

They were over the straits when the first desperate wails began to fill the town.

Author's Note

Man oh man, writing the ending for this chapter was a moral quagmire. How dark to go with Hades wrath caused a couple revisions. At first I went all the way, and had it Old Testament style. 10th plague of Egypt, specifically. This flew in the general face of what I wanted for the character, and made him utterly irredeemable. An attempt to tone down either the scope or the effects had the problem of being still too dark, or coming across like a slap on the wrist.

In the end I went the Disney-esque 'Sleeping Curse' style. So there is no ambiguity here, the foals are not dead.

There are some advantages to rewrites and second drafts of novels. Such as being able to combine characters who perform similar functions and become superfluous. Halphamet and Algol both fit this category, now. It was while working on this chapter I came to the dreadful realization that Halphamet is unneeded, and his single appearance so far could have been handed to Algol, had the exact same results, and served to build her a bit more instead. She is the one with the stronger connections to Twilight and can serve as an antagonist to our spunky little former librarian.

Oh well, you live, you learn.

Book Two: Chapter Eight: Royal Greetings

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duty and Dreams
Chapter Eight: Royal Greetings

The Bellerophon glided into Zerubaba’s port underneath topsails alone on a beautiful clear day, the water almost like glass, kissed only here and there in small ruffled patches by the onshore breeze. Hoof wrapped through the netting beneath the bowsprit, Pinkie grinned like a mad-mare and waved at the small boats the large Ship-Of-The-Line passed by on its way towards the two forts positioned on the ends of the jetties that thrust out to guard the wide bay at the mouth of the mighty Zebrican.

Built in the crook of three lowland hills abutting the east banks of the river, Zerubaba, the City of Temples, was beautiful to behold in the early morning light. Sunlight glinted off hundreds of towering, gold and azul painted statues. Built in antiquity and arrayed along the streets, they ringed the numerous temples, and guarded the estates of the wealthy. Squat buildings were arrayed around the temples and down the wide boulevards that doubled as markets. Built one atop the other, they spread out in an rolling mesh linked by twisting streets and alleyways. Painted in pinks, oranges, and blues, with roofs of red slate and little green doors, the homes were both comforting and haphazard enough to boggle those used to Equestrian sensibilities. Palm trees provided shade in the gardens and planters of herbs hung from windows. Tall walls of golden cement blocks, made of volcanic ash brought down the river on wide barges, broke the city off into several districts that seemed to lack any reasoned planning.

Along the east bank of the Zebrican’s mouth, between the warehouses with their accompanying docks and the temples on the southern hill, lay the commoner’s districts and markets. Here the homes were smallest with the narrow alleys and streets filled with a swarming sea of zebras. As this was also the district where foreigners stayed, the more vibrant coats of ponies occasionally a splash of colour among all the black stripes, punctuated by the hulking form of a minotaur. Open air bazaars held goods from all over the growing empire, spices, wines, food, and jewels.

On the peak of the northernmost hill was the Tamil Tahree, the great mausoleum where the past queens and kings of Zebrica were interred. Eight towers surrounded the Tamil Tahree, spire thrusting towards the sky like gold-capped white spears. From their peaks fluttered the banner of Samalla, the great Zebrican heroine who led her nation in overthrowing griffon dominion during the Age of Chaos. Samalla herself was inturned at the very heart of the Tamil Tahree, surrounded by her descendants and the wealth of a great nation.

Within her casket, it was said, rested her greatest weapon; the griffon-slayer, Garoom Theerud, the sword of liberation. Legend held that Samalla had been a slave taken beyond the Mareterranean where she’d been forced to fight the ponies. She had excelled, proving herself until she came to the notice of wicked griffon mages. Seeking a tool against Discord, they performed unnatural experiments on Samalla, making her immune to magic. Instead of fighting the God of Chaos, she rebelled against her masters, cut the mages down, and led the zebras to freedom.

In the shadow of the great mausoleum sat the ancient Hippodrome, constructed to entertain griffon lords with brutal pony and zebra races. So many died, the grounds of the giant stadium were saturated with bones where the bodies had been tossed without ceremony into deep pits and then filled over. Ghosts wandered the wide corridors and network of subterranean passages each night, and since the shift in Selene’s orbit, had begun to haunt further and further afield. Now little more than a crumbling ruin, it had been centuries since the Hippodrome saw use, with many of its stones pillaged to construct homes throughout Zerubaba.

Next to the decaying Hippodrome sat a coliseum. Unlike the Hippodrome, this building was a near constant hub of activity, hosting games, plays, and sports matches. Every day the citizens of Zerubaba funnelled into the coliseum, eager to be entertained. Gladiatorial games were not uncommon, but they were not the blood sports from the days of the griffons. Instead, they were more akin to intricate, ad-hoc plays of events both historical and mythical. Around the coliseum lay thriving compounds dedicated towards the shows. The only other use the coliseum served was as host for duels. For these blood was sometimes shed, though more often than not, such duels were short scuffles similar to a couple fillies wildly flinging their hooves at each other why trying not to look at what they were doing.

Three bridges crossed the Zebrican to the palaces of Zebrica’s nobility. Upon Pallum Hill, the third and largest, rested the Golden Palace itself. Nearly completed, with scaffolding surrounding the north and west facing walls, the palace would be unrivaled when finished. A hundred towers overlooked sweeping courtyards, gardens, and a zoo. An army of a thousand architects and ten thousand labourers swarmed like ants over the construction site. The sounds of their chisels rang down on the Bellerophon as she glided over the glass smooth harbour, only to end abruptly as a bugling horn sounded across the countryside.

At the base of Pallum Hill was the old castle that watched over the port before the creation of the forts. With steep walls, it jutted out into the bay. A few attempts at modernization saw the addition of heavy brass thirty-two pound carronades, but the castle was well past its prime as a defensive stronghold, and for the early days of the empire, had served to hold the empress’ court. This too had passed, and now the castle served as a jail for all manner of political dissident or common criminal.

The port itself wasn’t all that different from any in Equestria. Warehouses lined the docks, vessels ranging from small sloops to barques tied to the quays. Behind them were homes, a thriving market, and a few administrative buildings and the garrison. Along the western banks, in neat rows anchored fore-and-aft, were the ships of Zebrica’s fleet. Heavy frigates, with sides of thick oak, Third Rates, with new cannons gleaming under the careful attention of their crews, and at the end, a group of First Rates of a hundred and twenty gun each, queens of the ocean yet to fully spread their wings, just waiting for the order to take to the rolling seas.

Just beyond the Zebrican ships lay three vessels from the Old Queendoms, moored stern to shore.

“That’s the L’Orient, or I am the daughter of a ferrier,” Fighting Spirit said, having taken her spot at the captain’s right as the Bellerophon continued to glide towards a spot near the other foreign ships.

“I imagine so,” Hardy agreed, pointing to her beautifully painted figurehead as the Bellerophon swam past. “Yes, it is, you can see her name now. And those two are the Princess Platinum and the Santa Isabel. Yes, yes, it is as I suspected. Beautiful old ships, just beautiful. By Celestia, what are they all doing here, though?”

Across from the docks stood a low, squat fortress on a short hill overlooking the river. The black muzzles of cannons thrust out from its walls while the flag of Zebrica fluttered proudly on the breeze, a golden lion atop a scarlet field.

“Miss Spirit, the salute, if you please,” Hardy said as they passed the battlements of the fortress and glided deeper into the port.

The order was echoed along the deck, and then the first of twenty-one guns roared harmless flame seaward with a resounding crack. Along the upper deck the cannons fired one by one, engulfing the Bellerophon in a pungent fog that was carried away by the onshore breeze. One heartbeat after the last of the Bellerophon’s cannons had fired, the fort responded in kind, sending a salute of one and twenty throaty bangs.

As the roar of the cannons faded away, Pinkie darted from the bowsprit, expert hooves carrying her easily between the foremast jacks and the able seamares come forward to release the anchors and moor the ship. She swayed with ease on the gentle roll, a little rougher now they were in the chop where the waters of the river met those of the sea, took a place in the line, and gave the bo’sun a wide grin and tapped her temple in a salut.

Belaying Pin just shook her head in response and moved along the line, yelling in her throaty, naval voice for the stragglers and layabouts to hurry up. She didn’t bother to try to pry Pinkie from the watch, and in truth would have forgotten the pink menace was even a passenger at all if not for the captain’s constant reminders. Even the normal grumbles about landsmares not knowing there places were wholly absent.

With a great splash the anchors were let out, cables running fast and clear into the brown water. The Bellerophon drifted back, caught her holding, and came to a gentle rest. Next, a crew jumped into the jolly boat and ran a cable on shore so that she was moored fore and aft. This done, the crew and officers breathed a sigh of relief and nodded to one another in great joy.

At last, they’d completed their duty, and delivered Twilight to Zebrica.

Within the great cabin, Twilight was only superficially aware of the long awaited arrival. She dozed, in and out of consciousness, body sore and mind like jelly. It had been the same all the last week. Those first few days had been the worst, a piercing headache lodged between her ears every time she woke.

Magic Depletion Sickness.

Twilight knew of the condition, as did all unicorns, but never before experienced it herself. Even all the times she’d called on the vast depths of her magic in the battles against mad gods and twisted abominations, she’d never fully consumed her magical reserves. Having now experienced it first hoof, Twilight felt the warnings given by the lecturers at the School For Gifted Unicorns greatly underplayed how much it hurt.

A deep, happy groan rumbled from Twilight, pulled from her dreams by the rattle of the chain forward and the thumps of hooves overhead, and she sat up in bed, at last truly awake. She smacked her dry lips, rubbed away the sleep encrusted across her eyes, and looked out the stern windows to see the shore.

“Awake at last,” spoke Luna from where she sat near Twilight’s bed.

Twilight stretched, worked out all the little aches and stiffness, and mumbled, “How long?”

“Two weeks,” Luna supplied. “A few ponies have sent you letters,” Luna indicated the desk where a number of scrolls, envelops, and one package had been placed.

“Weeks?” Twilight gasped, shot up and tumbled out of bed, her chin hitting the deck with a heavy thud. She pushed herself up, stammering, “B-But, I never finished my etiquette lessons with Fleur! Or my history lessons. There was so much preparation planned!”

Stifling a laugh, Luna helped Twilight to the nearby table where a fresh breakfast awaited. “Everything will be fine, Twilight. You have spent years learning etiquette, already.”

“Yes, but nothing to do with meeting an empress.” Twilight gulped, and reached for the pitcher of cold water.

“Treat her with the same respect you would Celestia if you were petitioning her court, and you will be fine. Besides, I will be there as well.”

Twilight found Luna’s attempt at reassurance entirely ineffective, and only brought on more anxiety. “But, I was supposed to travel alone! How are we going to explain you just popping up on the ship? Wasn’t this entire exercise with traveling by ship supposed to show that I’m a normal pony?”

Luna snorted and rolled her eyes. “Normal? We are gods, Twilight. My sister fails to fully appreciate this fact sometimes. As much as we may play at being no greater than our little ponies, this simple truth is that we are so much more. This is not to say ponies should be treated as lesser things, but it is disrespectful to put on pretenses of weakness. We should not have to act lesser than we are just to placate a few, narrow minded, ponies. If the empress asks, I will tell her the truth.”

There was little time for worry as Hardy knocked and announced that the barge was being readied to take them ashore.

“Come on, Twilight, you have to be dressed yet. Your mane combed. And it might be an idea to get some food in your belly.” Luna swished her horn, and Twilight’s travel chest burst open as the dress Rarity made for meeting the Empress of Zebrica flew out.

The next several minutes were a flurry of activity that Twilight barely followed. Pinkie, Rainbow, and Fleur all came to check on her, each wearing a gown of the finest silks and lace, highlighted with appropriate jewels. Nothing overly extravagant, but all fitting for the court of the empress, they were somewhat more formal and simplified than the gowns Rarity made for their first Grand Galloping Galla.

Tears, impossible to be shed, pressed against the back of Twilight’s eyes as she thought of her missing friend. How Rarity would have loved to take part in the pomp and circumstance of meeting an empress! How, if Rarity joined them, Twilight could have done something to avert her friend’s fate.

Sadness had to be put aside as Fleur began, in rapid succession, to complete her lessons on how to greet the empress and what to expect. While the straps to her saddle were being done up, she ate in a few, hungry bites. The taste of burnt toast and butter tingled her tongue, and then all the preparations were as complete as could be reasonably made.

At long last, though it’d barely been ten minutes, Twilight stepped onto the deck to a full mustering of the crew with her honour guard next to the steps down to the boat.

“Come on, Twilight,” Luna said as she strode past her cousin, step full of majestic purpose Twilight feared she’d never master. The spice laden air swirled about her and she smiled. “You need to be careful. This is the court of an empress. It will not be like Canterlot.”

Twilight nodded slowly, and turned over in her head again the hurried lessons given to her as she descended into the barge. Behind her came Pinkie, Rainbow, Fleur, and Luna, but also Timely Crown, and Twilight’s guards. The bargemares pushed off, and with strong strokes of the oars, carried the barge towards the docks. Behind them came the second tender, a smaller jolly boat holding a large, gold-banded chest containing gifts for Zebrica’s Empress.

As they crossed the bay, Twilight asked when Luna first visited Zebrica.

Luna clicked her tongue as she thought back, then said, “The first time must have been… I am unable to recall the precise year. Shortly after my Awakening. So, around one hundred and seventy-five, B.E.R. A good friend managed to send word that he was in trouble, so I went to rescue him. Back then, all these lands were under the domination of the second Griffon Empire. There was much battle and blood shed that day.” Luna basked in memories, a wide, fearsome grin making her face shine. “I can’t be happier that their empire is in complete shambles and on the precipice of annihilation. May we soon be rid of their loathsome kind.”

“How can you say that?” Twilight asked, gaping at her cousin. “Griffons can be a little rough around the edges, but they don’t deserve to die!”

Luna gave Twilight a look not unlike pity while Timely cleared his throat and took a keener interest in the fish swimming through the filthy water around the barge.

“Griffons are beasts and brutes, little better than monsters.” Luna’s voice hardened, and posture stiffened. A dark, angry note made Twilight shiver. “I have had to protect our little ponies from their predations time and again. They refuse to see reason, and the virtues of peace. All they ever desire is conquest and conflict. The griffons outside Equestria revel in their carnivorous nature. If you had seen Shining Armour’s throat torn out before your very eyes when you were but a few springs old, you’d understand.”

Twilight felt a little green as she stuttered, “They eat ponies?”

The conversation came to an end here, with no time for Luna to address Twilight’s fears, as the barge kissed the dock light as a mother’s lips upon the brow of her foal, not even jostling the passengers. The bargemares all smiled, a few going so far as to whisper and pat their neighbor on the back at the display of skill.

Twilight and her entourage were greeted by a large crowd as they clambered onto the dock. Mostly the black and whites of zebras, the crowd nevertheless showed the brighter coats of a few ponies, and perhaps a dozen or so griffons, camels, and the tall forms of a pair of horses.

To one side stood two ranks of zebra soldiers, resplendent in gold and scarlet uniforms. The edges of chain barding and pikes set against their shoulders glittered and flashed with polished steel. Like the earth ponies in Equestria’s guards, their greater natural strength allowing them to wear heavier barding with ease, with thick boots that could deliver a crushing buck. Rainbow appraised the soldiers, while Pinkie attempted to introduce herself to every zebra.

Lord Halphamet stepped forward, Shaleh at his side, the pair given a wide space by everyone. Twilight watched the spirit with no small amount of curiosity, having never seen an ifrit before. The way her form shifted beneath the surface, like magma running through a tunnel, was fascinating. He saluted, head held high and grey eyes shining, drawing Twilight’s attention away from the spirit.

“Your most Divine Highness, I am Lord Halphamet, Commandant of the Empress’ Guard and Her Hoof. I am here as your escort to the Golden Palace.”

Twilight was taken aback at the brisk, almost harsh clip to the zebra’s accent. He had none of Zecora’s playful sing-song nature. Everything about him was simple, blunt with military professionalism. It reminded her of Shining when he was in work mode.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lord Halphamet.” Twilight gave her best smile as the rest of her party stepped onto the dock.

Lord Halphamet’s stoic expression refused to falter as Luna took her place beside Twilight.

“Your most Divine Highness,” Lord Halphamet bowed to Luna, and then continued, “Her Imperial Majesty eagerly awaits your arrival at the palace.”

“Lead on,” Twilight said, keeping her head held high. She remembered Zecora once mentioning in passing that it was seen as a sign of weakness among zebras for a superior to make any concession to a lesser. While it made Twilight’s mane prickle at having to seem so unfriendly, she also wanted to make a good first impression. The old saying of, ‘when in Roam’, came to mind.

“Very good,” Lord Halphamet said, stepping out of his bow and leading the way towards a group of carriages.

A hush fell across the pier as Twilight passed, the crowd falling to its knees, brows placed upon the ground and eyes turned away. Twilight blushed and couldn’t shake a crawling feeling as she entered the first carriage, doors bearing the Imperial Mark. Luna joined Twilight in the first carriage, door snapping shut behind her, while the others entered the remaining carriages.

“You’re doing well,” Luna said, shifting a little to get a better view out the window. “You see, there was no reason to be worried. Just remember, we have no equals in Zebrica, not even the empress herself. Never bow or lower yourself.” Luna punctuated this with a thump on the bench.

Twilight’s hooves shook as she gave her cousin an incredulous look. “I feel like an imposter,” Twilight admitted. “I’m not ready for this. My apprenticeship with Celestia was spent preparing me to face Nightmare Moon and Discord. Not playing nice with nobles and Queens. What if I say the wrong thing? What if I inadvertently cause a war!”

Pressing her ears back, Twilight cringed as the carriage began to roll through the port town and towards Zerubaba. Crowds lined the streets, cheering as Twilight passed, and a cloud of pink petals surrounded the carriages as they made their way towards the palace.

“I belong in a library studying or in a classroom teaching. That was what I thought I was destined to do. Not…” Twilight gestured her wings towards the bright faces of the crowd. “This is suddenly all too real. More so than even Nightcourt or having to sort through some reports. You took the lead in Nightcourt, and the other was just paperwork. I’m good at paperwork. This time I’m the one with the burden of responsibility, going in front of somepony I know nothing about, who is in charge of one of the oldest nations on Ioka. There is no way I can do this!”

Twilight pressed a hoof to her chest as her heart took off like a hound chasing a rabbit and her breaths came in sharp gasps.

Sighing, Luna reached over to wrap a comforting wing around Twilight, the carriage bumping along as she changed seats. “My sister and I have every confidence in your abilities, Twilight Sparkle. This anxiety is entirely unfounded and if I did not know better, would say was unnatural.”

Luna’s voice trailed off, and she grew solemn beside Twilight. The oddity of Luna’s tone brought Twilight out of one set of concerns, and right into another.

Twilight leaned back and tried to settle her racing heart. There was something wrong with the city, like a discordant note hidden within a symphony, that kept pulling at Twilight. Closing her eyes, Twilight fell within herself looking for some momentary peace, and to check on her magic reserves and connections to the stars, now she had the time.

Even after two weeks, her magic had still barely reached the half-full mark. Beneath her mind’s eye rushed hundreds of streams and rivers into the vast inner sea as she took in fresh aether from the laylines. Given the size of her pool, Twilight was shocked to see it so recovered. She was taking in as much aether every minute as a thousand unicorns could in a day.

Thankful that she was in an area far from other unicorns, so the strain on the leylines was not as profound of it otherwise could have been, Twilight turned her attention to her stars.

They were asleep, of course, drifting comfortably on a bed of dreams. For a brief moment, Twilight wondered what a star would dream about, and marvelled that they dreamt at all. Like a spider testing the silk of her web, Twilight touched a few of the adamantine threads connecting her to the stars. The bonds were as strong as she remembered, showing no signs of damage from her actions with Sirius. That did not mean that the stars did not hold any grudges against her, only that the purely magical side of the equation was unaffected. Nightfall would be when any grievances of the stars could be received, and she both hoped and feared that there would be many.

After what she did to Sirius, Twilight hardly deserved to be the stars’ mistress. Worse, it had almost been Polaris she hurled from the heavens! What would have happened if the Lodestar was lost? Would it even have been possible to put the other stars to sleep without Polaris? She’d never managed without Polaris’ active assistance corralling her sisters and putting them to bed. Twilight shuddered at the implications.

Twilight was about to depart her mindscape, when something odd caught her eye. In the corner of her perception a limp, battered thread pulsed. In a rush, Twilight swooped down to further inspect the odd occurrence. Unlike her other threads, this one was broken, and from the decay, had been so for a very long time. Longer than Twilight ever existed. And, it was not alone. Hundreds of other discarded threads formed a thick mesh along the ‘floor’ of her mindscape. The vast majority were grey, lifeless, dead, like a bed of skeletal snakes, and just as repugnant to view. From these corpses flowed hundreds of thousands of gossamer thin strands that sank into the ground and vanished. Tiny pluses of magic, almost indiscernible even on close inspection, sparkled down these strands.

Two of the former threads were not so damaged, rainbow patterns coursing through their broken lengths. One such thread was new, and Twilight understood without knowing how, that it belonged to Sirius. The other was old, ancient even, half buried by others that had fallen afterwards and since died. This thread felt wrong, somehow, little tremors of dread entering Twilight’s gut each time it pulsed. A strength, almost perverse vitality emanated from the thread, and with a start she broke her connection to her mind’s eye.

Momentarily disoriented, Twilight gasped and looked around the small confines of the carriage to see Luna watching her with concern.

“Luna, I’m filled with dead stars!” Twilight almost screamed, hooves rubbing up and down her legs as if she could scrub away the field of decayed threads buried inside her. Threads that had belonged to her stars before they fell.

The response she got was not what Twilight expected. Luna rocked back on her seat and giggled. It was a slight, hesitant sort of giggle, one hidden behind a hoof, but unmistakable.

“My dear Twilight, you are not filled with dead stars,” Luna shook her head slowly.

Twilight wanted to argue, to convey all she’d discovered, but they’d reached the gates of the Golden Palace.

The Golden Palace proudly overlooked Zerubaba, a shining jewel in the noonday sun, walls of pale yellow stone covered in reliefs and figurines. Four stories tall, with a roof of green copper, the palace was only a few short months away from completion. It contained an open, airy sort of regality that was not seen anywhere else in the zebra city. Stained glass windows three stories high faced the inner courtyard, with its tall fountain of a dragon entwined around a zebra, each perpetually chasing the other.

The entire southern side of the hill had been transformed into an open zoo, accessible only to the empress and the animal caretakers. Here, she collected birds and beasts from across the disc. Within the depths of a pool nested a tamed spotted Zebrican hydra, phoenixes roosted in the trees along the western ridge, and there was even a plumed male behir kept in a stout cage. Whether a creature was dangerous was unimportant, only how beautiful. It was the empress’ pride and joy, her sanctuary, and—some dared to whisper—her prison.

Their carriages came to a stop at the end of long carpeted walk leading to the palace’s colossal doors. Honour guards took station along the walk, along with a veritable army of servants. The guards stood before the servants and before the guards were their commanders, beside each of them an ifrit. At a command from Halphamet, hafts of pikes clashed on armoured shoulders and the heavy stamp of armoured hooves rang in the air. The servants all bowed low, and from them a chorus of prayers erupted towards the stars.

Reverence fairly rolled over Twilight from the servants. Their faces glowed, and prayers Twilight alone could hear echoed from hidden hearts. Such reverence made her skin crawl and doubts resurface. Afterall, What had she done to deserve such a reception?

She waited for Rainbow, Pinkie, Fleur, and Timely to exit their carriage and join her and Luna before slowly making her way forward. For a brief moment Twilight wished she could scamper back to her quarters in the Bellerophon and hide in her bunk. Such thoughts were unbefitting a princess, so she put on a brave face. Compared to claiming that Cadence was an imposter at her cousin’s wedding rehearsal, this was far less stressful, or liable to end in disaster.

Hovering on the edge of a daze, Twilight entered the palace, barely noting the tile mosaics covering nearly every flat surface. Tall enough to accommodate a dragon, the halls felt airy and immense. Inside as without, the walk was lined by bowing zebras, these all the wealthy merchants and what in Equestria would be considered the gentry, filling the gap between commoner and nobility. Evenly spaced out among them were more ifrit, the spirits’ manes making the walls glow with a ruby countenance.

Finally, the last set of doors swung open, the groaning of their hinges making the palace tremble. Carvings covered the ancient oak with depictions of Zebrica’s founding. At the bottom, little zebra figures cast griffons into pits, Samalla standing on a low rise as she dictated the terms of the Compact to five supplicating kings. Above this was an image of the Battle of Blackrock. Here the zebra army and shamans had crushed the griffons, bringing generations of subjugation and enslavement to a brutal end. On the ground the soldiers were depicted using crossbows and ballistae to bring down the griffons, while the air was filled what appeared to be blossoming stars. Griffons fell out of the sky in scores. Again, Samalla was shown, the ancient heroine above the battle on a golden chariot of fire pulled by a dragon. The top half of the great door held the images of Samalla’s years forced to serve the griffons, and her time spent being experimented upon, ending with her claiming freedom.

Beyond the great doors, the imperial throne room echoed the rest of the palace in grandness and opulence. Here, the nobles stood, each wearing rings of gold around their necks and clothes in the Equestrian fashion. Minor nobles stood near the walls, the important lords and ladies next to the carpet. Between them and Twilight, at rigid attention, were the elite Empress’ Guards, their embossed armour sparkling. The entire chamber was made of alabaster, with gold-plated pillars running the length to the raised throne. Shawls of gold, crimson, and green silk were draped around the throne, hiding the empress. All except for two glowing points of light and a dark outline that shifted from side to side as Twilight entered the throne room.

Beside the throne, the crier raised her voice, an enchantment making it echo throughout the entire palace.

“To her Serene Imperial Majesty, Maatsheptra; Queen of the mighty Zebrican River, Empress of all the lands south of the great Dragon Desert, slayer of a dozen dragons, Mother of East and West Zebrica, it is my solemn pleasure to announce her Divine Highness, Twilight Abigail Sparkle Tuilerya; Goddess of the Stars and Wishes, Princess of the Taiga, Countess of the Everfree, Nightwatcher, She who cured the Nightmare and returned Sol, She who bested Chaos and returned Him to his cage; and her Divine Highness, Luna Invictus; Goddess of the Moon, Princess of Equestria, Princess of Unicornia, Princess of Coltsica, Princess of Parmaria, Knight of the Winter Moon, Slayer of Tirak, Queller of Chaos, Reaver of the Red Sea, and Dreamsealer.”

Bowing first to Twilight and Luna, then to the hidden empress, the crier backed off the dais.

“Long have I awaited your arrival,” the empress intoned in a melodic voice that floated through the chamber. “The visions of this day have blessed my dreams since I was a foal. I am not disappointed.”

Twilight wasn’t surprised to feel magic lace the empress’ voice, a minor enchantment meant to induce awe and respect. She was, however, caught off guard by the power contained within the magic’s source. While still not comparable to the energy given by an alicorn, it was, nevertheless, far beyond what any regular pony or zebra should have been able to produce. Curiosity about the empress piqued, Twilight leaned a little closer as she studied the magic.

There was a spicy aftertaste to the magic, vaguely reminiscent of the sun, but with a cool breath of mint as well that lingered in the air. Twilight easily placed the elemental and bright runes within the spell, but there was another component, one that surprised her. It was frizzy, and crackled, with a happy familiar bounce. It was the unmistakable energy of a Chaos Rune.

The Empress stepped down from her throne, the curtains swooped up, and light fell upon her, showing Twilight the truth.

Maatsheptra was taller than Twilight, perhaps taller than Celestia, with a powerful chest, broad neck, and a brow that looked to have been chiseled from stone. It wasn’t an unpleasant face to look upon, but Twilight wouldn’t have called the empress ‘fair’ or ‘pretty’ if not for the glistening golden scales encircling her face to highlight her yellow, cat-like eyes. From just behind her ears rose a pair of spiralling horns. A thick, red and orange striped mane, with strands that seemed to dance like the flames they imitated, hung over the scales flowing down her neck. The scales were larger along her shoulders and down her back, and Twilight suspected they’d be hard as steel, yet supple as the coat of a panther. Thick shaggy fur mimicking her mane grew about her lower legs and in a great cloud on the end of her long tail. The Empress only had short white fur down her throat and on her underside.

Twilight almost gasped as she recognised the empress as a Kirin. Half dragon and half pony, or in the case of the empress, zebra, they were supposed to only exist in books. Always the stories portrayed them as heroes or villains, powerful beings of great purpose. Never were they plain or common, but born to accomplish feats beyond mere ponies. The last kirin in Equestria had been Gem Flare the Resolute, a warrior-priestess of the Namegiver. She died at the age of three hundred and seven in her bed in the year 817 E.R., having been involved in much of the War of the Sun and Moon, and then guiding the Sisterhood as it helped Equestria rebuild, and hide the truth behind the Nightmare.

Empress Maatsheptra smiled as she approached, giving Twilight a view of her sharp, predatory teeth. Her steps were precise and measured, with a graceful flow that almost seemed predatory, further heightened by Maatsheptra’s shimmering scales. Everything about her sang of beauty and sensuality, a deep, passionate fire burning like embers behind her draconian eyes.

“Hui Humma, Mistress of Stars and Wishes,” the Empress said, her voice soft like mists of a waterfall. The greeting was repeated to Luna.

The remainder of Twilight’s party were ignored.

It took half a moment for Twilight’s brain to re-engage itself, and she replied, “Hui Humma, Empress of Zebrica.”

A few within the crowd gasped when Maatsheptra bowed her head to the two alicorns, and Twilight returned the gesture. Luna did not.

“You honour us, Stars, but we are far from thy equal.” Maatsheptra gave a slight laugh. She then moved to Luna. “Protector of the Night, we hope there will be less cause for a repeat of your last visit to our nation.”

Luna smirked. “Only if somepony is fool enough to try throwing my cousin or one of our friends into the colosseum.”

“Our games, fortunately, are not the same as they were in those terrible days. They would hardly need rescue, and may even enjoy the experience.”

She then moved to Twilight’s friends, the empress did not bow as she spoke to each. “Pinkamena Diane Pie, Rainbow Dash, it is fascinating to meet you both.”

“Hiya!” Pinkie bounced forth, reaching out to grab Maatsheptra’s hoof and give it a vigorous shake before she could be stopped. “Wow, you’re so shiny! Like Spike after the time he fell into Gummy’s pots of scale-wax. How do you do it? Gummy always looks so dull again after only a few hours playing outside.”

Grabbing ahold of Pinkie, Twilight pulled her friend away from the empress, all too well aware of the thunderous looks beneath the guards’ helms. The ifrit pulled back their lips to snarl at Pinkie, ears folded back and tails lashing.

“I’m sor—”

A quickly raised hoof by Maatsheptra begged Twilight’s silence, the empress’ not taking her gaze off Pinkie.

“This is my natural lustre, Pinkamena,” Maatsheptra slowly intoned. “As Celestia evokes the caress of Sol upon the disc, Luna is a gateway to the night, and Twilight carries the stars, I am the endless flame of the savanna.”

“Ooooh, I see,” Pinkie rapidly bobbed her head. “Mystical!”

“Indeed.” The word was followed by a thin laugh. “Finally, we come to the great conundrum. Fleur de Lis, she who hovers between mortality and eternity. So much about you is uncertain. Yours is a fate not to be envied.”

Performing a deep bow, Fleur said, “Better I than another, non?”

“Most assuredly.” Maatsheptra’s eyes hardened into yellow spears. “Any other and… No, I speak out of turn.”

Twilight wanted to ask what the empress knew of Fleur and Athena, and more importantly, how she knew. While it could have been that Maatsheptra could sense the growing energy radiating off Fleur—it had grown to a point where side-by-side Fleur and Maatsheptra seemed equals in power—Twilight suspected more was at play. While there was certainly a large amount of theatrics on Maatsheptra’s part, Twilight could see the underlying cunning within the empress’ eyes.

“I have prepared a grand festival in your honour, and a place from which you may rouse the stars. Afterwards, there will be time for the presentation of your gifts, and we will dine and dance until the morrow arrives!”

A cheer rose from the crowd, and the empress took a place between her divine guests and lead them towards her gardens. Twilight ill at ease, though not because of the empress. She could not shake the feeling that something was amiss, wrong, and the cause was near. Had Twilight turned around, she may have seen Algol in the crowd, a wide smile plastered on the Demonstar’s face.

Gilda’s ear twitched at the slightest noise, sending little ripples down her neck, into the base of tense wings, and further down her back until reaching the tufted tip of her tail. Eyes darted from shadows to golden patch of sunlight to the bushy boughs of olive trees. Nearby a twig snapped, and wheat stalks were ruffled by the passage of either the wind, or something else.

Mouth dry, Gilda backed up towards an open patch of ground. Her wings yearned to pull her aloft, and away from the creatures hunting her.

Hunting her. A griffon. If she weren’t in that very predicament, Gilda would have scoffed at the idea.

She knew better than to seek the open solace of the wonderfully blue, warm, open sky. That was when they would get her. Nets, bolas, stones, arrows, and spears all seeking her unprotected belly. Besides, Gilda was not proficient enough yet to both use her magic to fly, and for other purposes.

Slinking lower so her golden coat merged with the strands of wheat, Gilda skirted the edge of a broad wagon lane that divided one field from the next. Concentrating, she pulled together the frame for a simple spell to heighten her natural speed. A few motes of stray aether escaped from her wingtips.

This, it turned out, was a terrible idea.

With the shrill shriek of a banshee, a dozen small, brown bodies burst through the grass. Naked to the waist, with white teeth flashing as they yelled, a group of children descended on the griffon. They came at her without fear in a singular wave, crashed over her as they let out whoops of victory, small fists clenched tight around sticks. She was struck on the ankle, knees, and elbows. A sharp yelp burst from Gilda, and she reared in an effort to escape the little monsters.

A shrill roar neither bird-like, nor particularly feline, burst from Gilda. She glared daggers down at her tormentors, and pulled at the threads of magic. Around her sore elbows appeared the tell-tale glow of spellcraft.

The children screamed with fearful delight and darted back into the fields, some performing cartwheels or leaping over each other as they let out long peels of laughter. A few continued to strike her on the ankles with their sticks as the magic about her grew stronger until they too ran off.

Dismissing the spell, Gilda settled back on all fours and rubbed her sore spots.

“The children sure like you,” Orenda commented as she slipped out of the tall grass, tails swishing with her amused swagger. “You’ve collected quite a following.”

“I hate this place,” Gilda harrumphed in return, “and those tiny, brown hairless monkeys are the worst. They make griffon cubs look tame in comparison.”

Orenda just shrugged in return, and turned away. “Zubu sent me to find you. The elders have finished deliberating on whether to help you or not.”

“And? What did they say?”

Another shrug. “I don’t know. Probably want to test you or something. That’s rather popular in these types of situations. If I had to guess, they’ll send you to the island.”

Gilda froze, a deep chill deep in her bones and heart. Her eyes drifted towards the lake at the city’s core, and the tiny island with it’s small temple at the center. Despite the sunny day, the island seemed dark, as if cast in perpetual shade, Sol’s light refusing to grace the cursed ground.

Death dwelt on that island, and she did not care to be disturbed.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Gilda hurried after Orenda, and prayed Orenda was just pulling her wings.

Cadence heaved a heavy sigh as she made her way through the familiar hallways s of Canterlot Castle. Too familiar, she silently fumed.

She’d barely set hoof in Crystal City Palace when Celestia had insisted on her turning around and dragging her family all the way back to Canterlot under the auspices of ‘safety in numbers’. What frustrated Cadence more was that, as always, Celestia was right.

A wry smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Cadence was extremely aware of her limitations. The saying, ‘lover, not a fighter’ could not be more apt than when applied to her. She brought a wingtip up and traced the faint, hidden scar left by Nightmare Moon down her cheek.

Her mother now, she could fight. Everypony knew and agreed that there were few swordmares throughout history that could be called Luna’s match. Luna’s sparring partner, and one of her few friends, was no less than Archmage Star Shimmer. A shudder worked its way up Cadence’s back at the thought of the battlemage. There was a moment of relief at the knowledge that the archmage had been dispatched to Prance only a few days earlier and would be gone for several months, at least.

Fleur’s assistant, thrust into the limelight caused by the ambassador’s absence, wailed and stamped her hooves in court. Demands for some explanation as to why Celestia had attacked her supposed ally filled each session for the past week. That it had not been Celestia had yet to matter. Mostly as Celestia kept Faust’s arrival in Canterlot a secret.

Then there were the foals.

Cadence pressed her eyes tight. She wanted to avoid thinking about the poor fillies. They were almost lifeless in their beds, so cold and unresponsive. If not for the slight heave of their tiny chests every few minutes, they’d be indistinguishable from the dead.

At first an epidemic was suspected. Hospitals quickly filled with anxious parents and their fillies. Doctors scrambled for answers, but none were found. Every test returned the same results. The fillies were fine, physically, with no trace of foreign magic. Panic turned to confusion, as it became clear that colts and younger daughters were unaffected. Whatever was at work was no mere contagion or regular spell.

It wasn’t until Cadence herself was called upon that the root cause was determined. She could detect nothing. Somepony had extracted the fillies’ souls. Not fully, as a slight trace remained, like an after-image when one looked at the sun. They were empty vessels lost to dreams, watched over by flocks of oneiros.

Never before had Cadence seen the tiny, swallow-like spirits in such numbers. They nestled around the fillies, brought them dream after dream, and sang an endless lament. Even one of the rare Phobetors remained in the ward where the fillies had been placed. The large golden spirit flew about the room leaving trails of ghostly fire, or sat on the window sill as it directed its smaller brethren to comfort the little ones.

Shaking off her melancholy thoughts, Cadence entered the closely guarded private chambers that belonged to Luna, and now hosted Faust.

The Queen of All Ponies sat unmoved from the spot she’d taken next to the window on her arrival. She stared out over the beautiful city of gold topped minarets and alabaster towers with a faraway gaze. Occasionally her eyes would shift, her attention attracted by something only she could see.

Regardless of how she coaxed, Faust refused to acknowledge Cadence’s presence, or that of anypony.

Yet, the bowl of fruit brought each morning was empty by mid-afternoon, and the wine drained.

Conversation was nonexistent, so Cadence simply joined Faust in her vigil, wondered about her grandmother, what they would say to each other when Faust was ready to talk, and avoided the knot of discontentment in her chest. After an hour, Cadence left, and made her way towards the throne room.

She was near the private door Celestia used when the first touch of Zeus’ approach brushed against her mind with a sharp, electric jolt. Cadence tensed, heart hammering as if it were war-drums, and rushed the remainder of the way.

Celestia and Tyr had both already stood, having sensed Zeus the same time as Cadence, and a hush gripped court. Uncertainty flitted from pony to pony, and the petitioner, some minor lady from the west, clamped her mouth shut at the sudden heat rolling off Celestia like the blistering winds across desert dunes.

Before any orders could be given, there was a heavy thump, and then the grand doors were thrust open. Staff clacked in time to his hooves on the marble floor as he sauntered up the wide aisle. There was an ease to his stride, as if he were not marching alone into the very heart of his enemy.

“Chronicle, would you clear the court,” Celestia said, her voice level and pleasant in spite of the very visible anger that, even then, darkened her mane to oranges and reds.

The aged seneschal gulped, and attempted to empty the hall, but nopony listened. All attention was directed at the princess, and the first alicorn stallion any had ever seen. Nopony dared move, lest they find it was all some spell. A few who’d been present for previous attempted coups trembled with fright, dread that they were about to witness a third such event.

“L-Lord Zeus, it is a pleasure to host you in our humble abode,” Tyr hissed up at Celestia through the corner of her mouth.

Irritation flashed from Celestia, and Cadence raised an eyebrow, looking between Zeus, with his wide grin and her aunt. Tyr repeated her instructions, with a little more insistence. Celestia did not respond, jaw clenched tight, and her eyes spitting an intense fury at the intruder.

Finally, her inaction broke, and Celestia said in a tone that was both level, and would have put the fear of death into most any pony for which her words were directed, said, “Zeus, I am surprised that you can show your face here after what happened in Prance.”

“What? That little scuffle with Faust? Ha-ha-ha! What of it?” Zeus shook out his wings, eyes pinched as he laughed. A moment later there was a resounding crash and the entire city of Canterlot shook.

Ponies cried out, uncertain what had just occurred, and clutched each other as they fell to the floor. Few but Cadence and Tyr had been able to follow Celestia as she crossed the hall and struck Zeus on the cheek. The floor beneath them heaved with radiating fractures like a comet had struck it.

“Scuffle?” Celestia repeated, mane darkening with flame and hoof hanging in the air ready to strike again.

Zeus rocked back on his hooves, and let out a booming laugh. “Ha-ha! You truly have fire! Such passion and beauty! And a love-tap, too.” He winked down at a nearby guard, and in a loud aside said, “That is how you know they are interested.”

Quickly, before Celestia could do more than sputter with ire, Zeus rolled his wings and began to walk around the hall. “Regardless,” Zeus said, with a casual sort of disinterest, as if the events were already the furthest thing from his mind, “I was wondering if I may enjoy your hospitality a while.”

“You… what?” Cadence gaped and advanced quickly to her aunt’s side. What help she could offer eluded her. She felt like a wolf intruding in a contest between bears. “Are you crazy?”

“Does this world have no manners at all?” Zeus grumbled, shaking his head. “A traveler arrives at your door, and what do you do but stamp your hooves and snarl. Were I so inclined, I would send a storm or three to teach you why you should always accept the stranger to your hearth, and share bread, wine, and tales of faraway lands. That is what a proper king does when visited even by a lowly beggar, let alone a peer.”

Zipping out from between Cadence and Celestia, Tyr bowed, and said in a rush, “Lord Zeus, no disrespect was intended, I assure you. Ioka merely has different customs than those of Gaea. Here, it is expected for a guest to send notice in advance so that a proper reception can be prepared. Anypony else is considered something akin to an invader or barbarian.”

Zeus swung his attention down on Tyr. A thick frown pinched his broad brow, and his jaw grew hard. Cadence tensed, and reached out for her sword. She could fully feel Penumbra down in the vaults, and readied herself to pull the longsword to her side if Zeus made any move towards Tyr.

“Oh? Is that all?” Zeus tossed back his head and laughed. “An odd custom, one that does much to make strangers feel unwelcome. How can you meet new ponies and welcome them into friendship and brotherhood if you only admit those you already know to your table? You there,” he pointed at one of the cowering attendees, “Set us a table and bring us some wine. No, you may not even know how to mix the wine properly. I will do so myself.”

With a sweep of his horn, Zeus conjured a long table and a number of cushions. Over this he spread a wide assortment of fruits, platters of fish in various sauces, and succulent salads. Wine appeared next, and this he mixed with water and then spread out in earthenware jugs.

“Come, sit with me, and we will share stories of our adventures! Your brave court may join, otherwise it would not be much of a feast. Ha-ha!” Zeus sat down at the heart of the table, and Tyr zipped across to sit at his side. “Everypony, sit, sit, and let us be merry!”

Tyr gave Cadence and Celestia an insistent look and sharp jerk of her head towards Zeus’ other side.

Begrudgingly, Cadence sat down, a visibly shaking Celestia beside her. The guards about the room begrudgingly took places at the table at Zeus’ further insistence, as did the other ponies of the court. Small, hesitant conversation bubbled at the ends of the table, far from where the alicorns sat in furious silence.

“So,” Cadence dragged the word out a little, searching for some topic to broach. It came to her after only a moment, accompanied by a twist in her gut and suspicious look in her eye. “Do you have any idea what has been happening to the fillies?”

“Fillies?” Zeus looked perplexed, then shook his head. “Oh, that. What I overheard sounds like something my devilish harpy of a former wife would devise. Putting the first born daughters into death-like slumbers. Hera could not be involved, however, as she is incapable of leaving Gaea for the foreseeable future. I was not involved, if that is what you are implying, my dear. No, I am far more direct, ha-ha!”

Zeus’ laugh was far from genuine, tinged with bitterness and sadness, and he patted his staff hovering at his side. Cadence was overcome by a wave of sour, blackened love. A deep, ancient love, older than the stars and all the worlds, but one formed into a poisonous bramble that snarled around the heart. Over it was laced a new love, strong and filled with vibrant passions, and directed towards Celestia.

Wine snorted through Cadence’s nose, and she fell into a fit of coughing that drew everyone's attention. Concerned, Celestia leaned a little closer.

“He is in love with you!” Cadence blurted when she’d stopped gasping for air.

It was Celestia’s turn to sputter, or she would have, if she’d been any other pony. Instead, Celestia’s famed composure at last asserted itself, expression utterly impassive as she peeled a juicy orange. Her outward calm did nothing to hide the revulsion, so bright to Cadence’s eyes, that roiled through her emotional core.

To further confound the moment, the side door was tossed open to admit Faust into the hall. There was a profound silence that gripped the room, as if a dragon had just emerged from some primordial woods to loom over a neolithic herd too frightened to run, scream, or act. For the court, all they could do was gape and stare as the goddess they’d all known but never seen appeared in such a mundane manner.

Inwardly, Cadence cursed and tensed in preparation of protecting the mortals. Faust’s narrowed eyes almost crackled as she stared at Zeus.

“Faust!” Zeus boomed, pushing himself up so he could wave her over and make a space between himself and Cadence. “Are you here for a rematch, or would you sit with us and share tales of the old days? Come, sit, sit, and I will get you some wine.”

“Rematch?” Faust cocked her head at a sharp degree, and remained near the door. “It was you whom I fought? Whatever was my other self thinking? Could she not see what an epic game she played that could become a comedy of misery? No, I just came to see what all the fuss was about. Now that my curiosity is sated, I must be away. Events are not as they were meant. My Weave has become a tangled mess, and it needs some careful corrections. When you require my assistance, I will be with my sister. Have fun, you four.”

And with that, she turned and departed as quickly as she’d arrived, leaving an exasperated Tyr and flustered Cadence. But, it was Celestia who was stung the most, an expression of longing hope directed towards her mother that hovered in the air, and then fell limp. She quickly recomposed herself, but Cadence could see the fresh wound flash bright red beneath the surface.

“Ha-ha, I think that I should worry for a century or two over that one. Grudges among our kind are rather long, after all.” Zeus rumbled again with laughter. “Let me share a tale of this old couple I met once while traveling, Baucis and Philemon, who possessed little yet invited me and my son into their home when others turned us away…”

And so, for the rest of the day, Zeus’ broad voice filled the palace with tales too preposterous and grim to be believed.

Author's Note

*B.E.R; Before Equestrian Reckoning.

Well, I hope this chapter wasn't too disappointing. I tried to keep the best parts of the old version, namely the description of the palace, and Celestia striking Zeus. Other sections saw just name changes, such as the switch from Faust to Luna accompanying Twilight.

The feast Zeus conjures is modeled after those often described in the Odyssey, right down to the wine being watered down. At the end the characters he mentions, Caucis and Philemon, are part of a myth where Zeus and Hermes visit a town and are turned away from every houses door but that belonging to the poorest couple in the town, the aforementioned Caucis and Philemon. For their kindness towards strangers he granted them a boon, while the rest of the town was sunk into a swamp for its impiety.

From now on, if there is a creature mentioned in a chapter, I'll place information on it in the Author's Notes, rather than make separate blogs. Since both are mentioned here, the Oneiros and Ifrit will be the first. For sake of consistency, I'll use a description method similar to that used in Pathfinder's bestiaries.

Oneiros: One of the most common of spirits, the oneiros are responsible for carrying dreams to sleeping mortals. Created by the original God of Dreams to keep him company, oneiros are playful and love to sing. At twilight, oneiros emerge from the Realm of Dreams carrying dreams on their wings. Three varieties of oneiros exist; the common Oneiros, the slightly larger Ikelos, and the grand Phobetor.

Oneiros are the only natives of the Realm of Dreams, but spend most of their time on the mortal realms.

Resemble swallows, both in size and shape common Oneiros flit through the horn and ivory gates hidden behind the various moons to carry dreams to mortals. Extremely fast, with the ability of all spirits to go unseen, Oneiros are nevertheless relatively weak and frail spirits. To assist with their duty to bring mortals dreams, Oneiros are able to fly through the Winterlands back to the Realm of Dreams, though they require the gates to reach the mortal realms. This makes them extremely difficult to catch. If caught, Oneiros are one of the spirits able to be bound by the exchange of true names, though few mortals ever make the attempt as Oneiros make for poor familiars.

The larger Ikelos are dark blues and blacks in contrast to their lesser, white cousins. They carry nightmares and ill-fated prophecy to mortals. In addition to all the powers of the common Oneiros, Ikelos are able to directly enter the dreams of a sleeping mortal. This is not without risk, as the Ikelos can become trapped if it fails to leave the dream before the mortal awakens.

Twice the size of an Ikelos, the Phobetor are easily mistaken for a phoenix at first glance. WIth bright red and gold plumage, Phobetors are the chiefs among the oneiros, and are solely responsible for carrying the dreams of the gods.

Abilities; True-Speech, True-Sight, Invisibility, Astral Walk, Dream Walk (Ikelos and Phobetor only), Control Elements (Phobetor only), Winterlands Native.

Ifrit: Greatest among spirits associated with fire, ifrit are powerful, overbearing, prideful, and despise most other spirits, especially kitsune. A product of the Realm of Fire itself, rather than any specific god, ifrit lord over the other fire-spirits with a grip that can only generously be called tyrannical.

Among their number, a few a born with an even stronger connection to the Realm of Fire. These ‘noble’ ifrit are referred to as a Malik, and possess greater magic and abilities than their regular brethren. Of interest to mortals is the Malik’s ability to grant up to three wishes, owing to their ability to tap into the trace remnants of the Far Realm that linger in the various primordial elemental realms. Since catching a Malik is all but impossible even for the most accomplished magicians, this aspect exists more with story than reality.

Physically, ifrit appear as large, fire shrouded lions with bodies of roiling magma. At will a thick cloud of blistering ash can be expelled, creating a fearsome visage. Most ifrit stand between six and seven hooves in height at the shoulder. Malik stand between nine and ten hooves in height.

It is possible for mortals to make a binding bargain with an ifrit, though such exchanges almost always favour the ifrit. Rarely is an ifrit captured and forced to exchange its True Name. A small clan of ifrit on Ioka willingly bound itself to the service of Empress Maatsheptra.

Abilities; True-Speech, True-Sight, Invisibility, Astral Walk, Control Fire, Fire Breath, Molten Body, Fire Immunity, Grant Wishes (Up to 3 per person, Malik only).

Book Two: Chapter Nine: The Demonstar

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duty and Dreams
Chapter Nine: The Demonstar

Once again, Twilight found herself the center of attention in the middle of a grand gala. As before, nobles from all stripes and sorts came either to see the latest curiosity first hoof, or play the games of politics; both more often than not.

At least, unlike the Gala of the Stars, she shared some of the spotlight with Luna. Armoured in cloak of cold aloofness, Luna’s hard, ice blue eyes judged everyone beneath her gaze. She was imposing and haughty, with an unapproachable regal air, and a deep comfort to Twilight. Luna acted as a bulwark, protecting Twilight from the worst of her anxiety. Unable to use her breathing exercises under so many judging eyes, Twilight latched onto the relief Luna provided.

Even with Luna’s reassuring presence, Twilight couldn’t shake the sensation of being under a hungry dragon’s shadow. Dread quickened her heart, and her smile was cracked and unnatural, a slight tremor in the corner of the eye. Wherever she went, judging eyes followed. Whispers danced at the edges of perception, her name coupled with a sour note the only comprehensible components.

Worse than the suspicious murmurs of the nobles were the servants. Reverence of a nature Twilight had never before encountered echoed from each like the plucked strings of a harp that could not silenced. Her teeth vibrated whenever one drew near, and a sharp throbbing pain began to form behind her right eye.

Her only relief came in the form of a tasty drink. A brandy of some type flavoured with cream and licorice. It danced across Twilight’s tongue delightfully and helped divert her attention, if only for a brief interlude. It was no Sparkle tea, but serviceable for Twilight’s purposes. Unable to be affected by so little alcohol, the act of holding the glass, of regulating her magic so as to avoid shattering the fragile object, provided a tiny focal point for her to latch onto whenever her anxiety spiked. With her two sources of protection near, Twilight mingled until it was time for the presentation of the gifts.

In the heart of the gardens, the large chest she’d brought had been placed upon a raised platform. With but a look from the empress, the crowd fell into silent expectation. Twilight was a little impressed, comparing Maatsheptra favorably to the princesses. Her regal demeanor, heightened by the fading light of the day, gave her an unapproachable, commanding air. She possessed a portion of Celestia’s motherly air combined harmoniously with Luna’s stern aloofness.

The empress’ mere presence wasn’t enough to quell everyone. A sharp, young laugh prickled Twilight’s ears. It was the worst kind of laugh, reminiscent of her younger sister when she was in one of her mean spirited moods, or any other bully when they spotted their favoured target.

Two foals, a colt and filly, dressed in fine silks and adorned in jewels and gold, sauntered through the crowd. The small scales beneath the eyes, shaggy black manes and the short, curved horns perched on their brows spoke to their heritage. Parting before them, the gathered nobles allowed the noisy foals access to the platform.

Still laughing, the young prince skipped up onto the platform ahead of his sister. The light in his golden eyes was the worst sort; over-confident, sneering, and cruel. Too many times, Twilight had seen similar glimmers in the ponies that pranced through Celestia’s court, and an instant dislike for the prince took hold.

The young princess, however, held none of her brothers contemptuous arrogance. She held herself neither above others, nor did she cringe or shy away, but moved with a quiet assurity as if she were wandering through a pleasant dream. A demure smile was given to a few nobles she recognised, and she bowed to Luna and Twilight before setting hoof on the platform.

“These are my foals; Toashetra and Hattmettren,” Maatsheptra introduced them in turn. In a voice that carried far, she addressed her foals, “You were instructed to stay in the nursery.”

“You tell us to do a lot of things we ignore,” Toashetra scoffed, eyeing the four ornate boxes arrayed on a low table. There was a familiar glimmer to the look, one that sent shivers up Twilight’s back. “What tithes did the ponies bring? I demand to know.”

Luna frowned, displeasure at the colt leaking from her like an oily smoke.

Impassive, Maatsheptra asked her daughter, “What about you?”

“I was curious, naturally,” Hattmettren indicated the gifts with a slight wave of her hoof, “Who could learn about your guests, Your Imperial Majesty, and not feel the delight of wonder and the itch to meet such interesting ponies?” To Luna and Twilight, she added with a bow, “It is a great honour you bestow on our nation.” Though a little saccharine, Hattmettren’s words were genuine, and drew ire from her brother.

Her daughter’s politeness obviously pleased Maatsheptra. She gave permission for the princess to remain while the young prince was ordered back to his rooms.

Cheeks puffed out, he lashed his tail back and forth, and whined, “But, I need to know what they brought!” His protests only grew as a pair of Imperial Guards flanked him and began leading him away. He kicked. He screamed; And, in general, acted as only the most spoiled and unselfconscious of foals are capable.

Sighing as her brother was picked up and dragged out of the garden, Hattmettren took her accustomed place beside her mother.

Maatsheptra studiously ignored the antics of her son, and, as soon as his howls had faded, put on a pleasant smile as she turned her attention to the gifts.

Opening Luna’s gift first, she was presented with wine. Three bottles packed in straw and sturdy frames. Twilight tilted her head a little, eyes wide at the sight of the familiar bottles. Wide bodied, with thin, slightly tapered necks, Twilight had only seen them once before. Her suspicious hopes were confirmed when Maatsheptra exclaimed in a voice intend to carry across the gardens, “Genuine moon wine! Straight from Luna herself. And three bottles, no less. But how? There has not been any in centuries, and it takes years upon years to properly ferment.”

“True, the first barrels will be a decade before they are ready. These, however, are from my ancient stocks,” Luna said as she uncorked one of the bottles. “My sister did not find all my vaults, nor did adventurous archaeologists uncover every one of the Nightmare’s secrets. These were in a hidden panel in my old chambers in Everfree Castle. Seven bottles, of which these three remain.”

Glasses were produced, a fine set of crystal embossed with platinum that accompanied the wine, and filled with the greatest of care. One each passed to Twilight and Maatsheptra, Luna raised her glass in a toast, and said in a hearty boom that carried over the entire garden, “To new friendships.”

“To prospective alliances,” Maatsheptra replied before she took a cautionary sip, while Luna and Twilight both drank down large mouthfuls.

Fire, cold and soothing, leapt over Twilight’s tongue, swelled in the back of her mouth, and then rushed down her throat in a wonderful cascade. Blissful sensations of burning frost tingled outward from her belly, worked its way down all six limbs, and made Twilight sigh with pleasure.

She’d never cared much for wine before encountering Luna’s moon wine. Even afterwards, Twilight couldn’t say that she cared for the wine. It did, however, steal away tension and envelope her in a temporary shield against anxiety.

Before anymore of the royal gifts could be enjoyed, a page slipped up to Lord Halphamet, and whispered something in his ear. He gave no indication of what was said, simply broke away from the group he’d been with to relay the message to the empress. Maatsheptra listened with a polite smile, then said, “Yes, have her announced.” She then nodded to the herald, who stood on anxious hooves off to one side.

He cleared his throat, and had just gotten past, “Her Divine Highness,” when Faust swept past him.

Heads swiveled around and eyes widened, the remaining gifts forgotten.

A small part of Twilight was thankful for the interruption. Compared to Luna’s moon wine, or Philomena’s eggs nested in a bed of golden straw and enchanted fire opals sent by Celestia, Twilight’s gift felt so plain. All she’d been able to put together were the original friendship letters she’d sent to Celestia during her tenure in Ponyville. Other than placing them within three gold and dragon-horn scroll cases, one for each year, the letters were untouched.

If Mattsheptra was surprised by Faust’s appearance she showed no sign of it. There was more an air of curiosity and anticipation, like she were a filly on Hearth’s Warming morning about to open a big present. Expectation grew as the herald was brushed aside only half-way through Faust’s litany of titles.

Leaning towards Luna and Twilight, Maatsheptra said, “Just watch. I believe you will enjoy what follows.”

Luna shot a glance at the empress that hovered between incredulity and annoyance while Twilight wondered over the empress’ meaning.

Faust moved through the crowd with purpose, murmurs left in her wake as she passed by the platform with little more than a slight glance at Luna and Twilight.

“Mother, what is going on?” Luna demanded and stepped in front of Faust.

With a quick side-step, Faust maneuvered past Luna like she were dancing around a particularly obstinate tree. Her course put Faust on a direct line to where Twilight’s friends stood chatting.

They began to greet her when Faust swooped down to pin Timely in a deep, passionate, but very one-sided, kiss.

Timely reacted by freezing stiff, eyes the size of dinner plates, and face an absolute white beneath his cream coat. They remained this way, crowd gawking, lips pressed tight, for a full minute. Faust broke the kiss at last, tilted her head a little, and frowned just perceptibly. Timely’s jaw moved in shocked silence as he attempted to form words unable to find voice.

“Am I that bad?” Faust asked, a hesitant hitch in her voice. “With such a gap in experiences, I had nothing to base it upon. Perhaps I simply need more practice.”

She leaned back down, lips puckered like the suction cups of an octopus. This snapped Timely out of his fugue.

He quickly back stepped, and snapped, “Madam! What in Celestia’s mane are you about, accosting a stallion in such a manner so publicly?”

Faust pulled back, her brow pinched together in a delicate line. She barely acknowledge the crowd, eyes only flicking to where Twilight and Luna stood. Twilight was utterly flabbergasted, coherent thoughts having long since thrown up their collective hooves and retreated to safer corners of her psyche. Luna hid a set of snickers behind a hoof.

“Trying to correct an errant deviation in the Weave, my love,” Faust answered in total innocence.

Face darkening to a cherry red now, Timely grabbed Faust by the ear and pulled her aside to a growing susurration of whispers. Amusement bright across her face, she followed at a dignified pace, hardly seeming to notice the glow of magic about her ear.

“Daughter, we’ll talk soon! Your father and I simply need to reconnect! It may take some time, as he has had several lives to forget me. Have faith. Everything will work out in the end, and we shall be a family again!” Faust shouted, her voice carrying far beyond the confines of the palace grounds.

Overwhelmed by the din of chattering nobles and Faust’s odd behaviour, Twilight experienced the party in a blurry haze. She was aware of attention returning to the gifts after a short period of gossip and conversation surrounding the strange arrival the Queen of All Ponies. Likewise, the opening of the remaining gifts tumbled by without truly being parsed. Maatsheptra gave the same delighted little smiles and comments when each was opened. Her gift was received the same as the grand gestures sent by her cousins, but part of her whispered the empress was merely being polite.

Drifting further and further to the side, Twilight took the first opportunity to slip away and look for a quiet segment of the garden to calm her nerves. The party pressed in from all sides, crushing her under the weight of judging eyes and embarrassment. All she wanted was to retreat, to curl up in a pile of ancient books and escape into their pages until the anxiety passed. It took substantial self-control to keep from teleporting to the Bellerophon. To do so would cause a scene far worse than the difficulties presented by staying.

Behind Twilight came her friends, each trying to provide some comfort. Twilight began to thank them, while wishing they would give her a little space to be alone, when she walked into a pony.

“Head among your stars, princess?” chortled the pony she’d bumped. Acid inflicted the voice, enough to startle Twilight.

Stepping back with a quick apology, Twilight was surprised to find the speaker to be an attractive, pitch-black pegasus. No, not pegasus, Twilight realised with a start. Close enough to reach out and touch the mare, Twilight could taste the magic leaking from the layer upon layer of wards and enchantments encasing her. It took a little concentration to peer past the spells, and truly see her. When she did, Twilight gave a little start.

It was like staring into a void, as if there was nothing beside her. The mare consumed the ambient aether around her, sucking it into her core as if she were a dark, swirling hole. Her presence pulled at Twilight like a lodestone on iron.

Instincts honed over many adventures screamed that she was in danger. Eyes darted towards her friends, and found them all acting as if nothing were amiss. Rather, they chatted and laughed at Timely’s expense, and took no notice of the danger in their midst. Except for Luna, who watched Twilight out of the corner of her eye.

“Ah, not so mirror-eyed after-all,” the mare laughed, a dangerous sound that further put Twilight’s teeth on edge. “I feared you’d be too blue-white to even think to see my true-self. Look long and well, mistress, for I am what you condemned my beloved sister to become when you cast her from our home in the heavens.”

Twilight jerked back as if she’d been bucked. Her insides writhed in dread, as if she were about to tip into a pit filled with spiders.

“I am Algol, mistress,” the pegasus swept into a deep, mocking bow, “first among the Valla.”

Questions burst like novas as her mind raced, unable to form any definitive conclusions. She needed to know more about this mare but found herself unable to speak; Curiosity so strong it strangled any other thought took hold. Only a few stuttered words managed to escape her spinning head.

“My sisters are fools to trust you,” Algol continued in tones that cracked like a whip against Twilight. “Perhaps they now see the error of their ways. You are no more than our slaver, and we mere things to be used, spent, and tossed aside at your whims. Well, this is a nation that has tossed off the shackles of despots and tyrants many a-time. Maybe my sisters will see the violet-black that is the true-you at the core of your being. Maybe not, however. Two-faced. Duplicitous, even to yourself.”

Twilight’s questions were quelled by the cold accusations. “I know myself rather well, actually,” Twilight countered with a huff. Algol’s amusement should have warned her that she’d entered a trap. Pressing ahead, she said, “Introspection and growth has been very important to me for a long time.”

“Ah, but is it? You claim to see into the mirror of the self, to know the colours that swirl in your heart. Yet, how can you, when you are but half of yourself? When you wait, rather than act. The face you wear is so… bleached. Like old driftwood on a rocky shore, content with wherever the waves have carried you. My sisters are so blind to follow your inept lead. Mistress indeed!” Algol curled back her lips into a disdainful sneer and turned away to leave a stunned Twilight behind. She was stopped before she could vanish by Rainbow’s wing thrust out in her path.

“Hey, nopony talks to my friend like that,” Rainbow growled through clenched teeth, appearing at Twilight’s side.

“Ah, and here is the Element of Loyalty, leaping into crimson fields without a thought. Mmm, you smell even like your forebearers, cherry pink and watery blue, but are so much lesser than the previous Elements,” Algol sniggered, the sound making Rainbow’s scowl grow.

“Hurricane, now there was a pegasus! Such a tiny thing, but with such a passion for the arts of war. Commander at fifteen, Commander-General a year later, and were it not for all the depressive blue of the Long Winter caused by Iridia’s descent into glorious lavender-black, why, I have no doubt Hurricane would not have only driven the griffons from the Mareberian peninsula centuries early, but she would have shattered the griffon empire entirely. Instead, she joined those fools led by Clover the Clever. Hurricane’s loyalty was boundless steel-grey.” Algol laughed as if she were relating a story from her schooldays with an old acquaintance. It did little to hide the snarky, dismissive glimmer in her red eyes. “You Elements of Loyalty are so predictable, and boring. A bit of advice; never stare a lotus in the eye.”

Rainbow bristled, wings rigid with anger. “I don’t even know what that means, but if you want to pick on my friends, you’ll have me to deal with first.”

“Rainbow, I’m alright, honest,” Twilight said, rather loudly so as to drown any further discussion. “This is all a misunderstanding. Just apologize and—”

“Apologize to her?! Me?” Rainbow yelled and jabbed Algol in the chest. “After what she said to you? I can’t just let her say things like that to my friends.”

With a growing grin, Algol looked down at Rainbow’s wing. “Is that a challenge?”

The question, spoken with such hope, shook Twilight to her core. There was malice in the question, and a fervent desire to bait Rainbow into a trap. She tried to stop Rainbow, to interject, but was too slow.

“Of course it’s a challenge!”

Murmurs and gasps from the crowd confirmed Twilight’s worst fears.

“Then your challenge is accepted. We will duel in the building of violet screams, beneath the eyes of Zerubaba. My Second will meet with yours to settle the details.” More excitement from the crowd greeted Algol’s proclamation.

Something had to be done, and quick. Zebra duels were not like the contests and games used among Equestrians to settle their differences.

Twilight needed help preventing a disaster. Looking around, Twilight couldn’t see any sign of Luna, nor Maatsheptra, the platform empty. Either could settle the argument before it went any further. Without them, Twilight didn’t know what she could do to spare both her friend’s feelings, and stop the duel.

“Seconds? I don’t understand. Just tell me where and when you want to race, or hoof wrestling, or whatever.” Rainbow demanded, still unaware of the danger she’d encountered. “Nopony is better than me when it comes to sports.”

Algol, and the crowd, laughed. “Races? Hoof wrestling? Sports? We are not foals, unwashed and white. I chose spells as my weapon. You may chose as you like.”

“Spells? Weapon?” Confusion flitted across Rainbow’s face and drew her brows together.

Twilight raced through everything she’d been told about Zebra customs. There had to be some way to stop the duel. Some little tidbit or rule that could be leveraged into one or the other backing down. Nothing she’d learned about Zebrica from Fleur was of use. However, a small comment made by Zecora shortly after Twilight met the shamaness popped up, a little nugget that could save both ponies.

Steeling herself for her friend’s recriminations, Twilight said, “Rainbow can’t duel you; she’s pregnant.”

Rainbow’s face turned a bright cherry red beneath her fur. Whether from anger or embarrassment, Twilight was unsure.

“Then she should learn to moderate her tongue. I have no qualms about fighting a pregnant mare, if she is so green-red as to issue a challenge. I will let her chose a proxy, however. I’m rather magnanimous, after all.”

“Listen, I don’t need nopony—”

“I will serve as her proxy,” said Fleur, emerging from the crowd with Halphamet to stand beside Rainbow. Behind Fleur, Twilight could make out Pinkie, her mane hanging limp as she chewed on the edge of her hoof.

“This is acceptable,” Algol answered before Fleur had finished. With a snap of her wings, Algol launched herself out of the garden, gusts of wind kicked up by her departure whipping across Twilight and her friends like a final insult.

“Who was that?” Rainbow asked, her sharp voice carrying far.

Halphamet followed the direction of her gaze, and frowned. “That is the Nahraha. It was she who taught us how to bind the ifrit to our wills, guided the Empress when she was cast out by her tribe for her prophecies, and serves her still as her most trusted advisor. You have made a very dangerous enemy.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve kicked worse in the teeth,” Rainbow scoffed and puffed out her chest.

“Except that you can not, mon amie,” Fleur sighed, ears falling as she shook her head.

Ears pressed back until they were flat with her head, and tail snapping with irritation, Rainbow said, “Yeah, well, I didn’t ask for you to get involved. I can take care of that crazy mare on my own.”

“Oui, but, the safety of your foal comes first, no?”

“Didn’t stop me from saving your flank from Amon back on Marelantis, as I recall. So, it shouldn’t stop me now.”

Stung, Fleur snapped, “If I could take that ‘burden’ instead, I would much rather.”

“If you want the foal so bad, you can have it,” Rainbow growled back, wings thrust to the side. “I was violated and you think it is some great gift? Ha! I never wanted to have a foal. I’m not like AJ or Shy, who both want to be moms some day. This,” Rainbow pointed at her stomach, “was not my choice.”

With that, Rainbow launched herself into the air with far more force than that of Algol.

Twilight stood silent, confused and torn, unsure if she should follow her friend or not. From previous such displays, Twilight knew Rainbow needed some time alone to sort through her feelings. In an hour or so she’d find Rainbow.

Fleur moved in a slow, precise circle around the spacious room granted her by the Empress. A warm chamber, with high ceilings, tall windows flanked by silk curtain, and dominated by a spacious bed that was large and grand enough for a princess, it surprised her. She’s assumed her rooms would have either been shared with the other members of Twilight’s party, or been much smaller. Even her dunnage had been moved from the Bellerophon and placed in the dressers before she’d stumbled half-drunk and nervous into the room.

A thin frown played at the corners of her mouth, making her otherwise attractive features seem harsh and unwelcoming. Anxiety refused to be held at bay. Worries played out over and over in her mind, shepherded by the lessons she’d given Twilight on the nature of Zebrican duels.

She traced a hoof up her other foreleg, feeling the new scars hidden just beneath the surface. Mementos of Marelantis, and the demon-lord Amon.

For an instant Fleur wished to have Athena back. Wished she had withheld herself from stepping into the fight, and getting involved in the duel. Wished she’d never left Equestria in the first place, or simply for her dear Fancy Pants.

His absence created a gaping hole that left her weary and frightened. Cold without his strong hooves wrapped around her, without the gentle timber of his voice to give her confidence, Fleur doubted her capacity to fight Algol.

There was a knock on the door, followed by Luna as she entered before Fluer could give a greeting.

“What you are doing is very noble, Fleur de Lis, and very foolish,” Luna said without preamble, and with a note of admiration. “Though she may grumble, I suspect Rainbow appreciates and respects you all the more for your intervention, though she is unlikely to ever admit it even to herself.”

“It seemed more like she hates me now, non?” Fleur tried to put on a brave face, but suspected Luna saw through the facade with ease.

Taking the long lounge beneath the wide windows as her own, where the wind could play through her flowing, silvery mane, Luna asked, “Tell me, have you read the Book of Selene?”

“Oui. As a filly, and again when you returned, your Highness. My father possessed an ancient copy that belonged to our ancestors. Princess Celestia was less effective in the Old Queendoms at erasing your presence from history. As a filly, I found the book too violent. A lot of ponies died in each story.”

“Hmm, what about when you re-read them?”

“They are still violent,” Fleur shrugged. “It read more like an… what is the word? Anthology, yes? Like an anthology of short stories that must be unreal, for they were too fanciful to be believed. I was unsure what to think. You appear very little like the mare in the stories. She was so quick with a sword and hacking ponies to bits. You were very uncertain, and even tempered, though a bit cold, at first. I believed the stories to be exaggerated tales.”

Luna tilted her head to one side as Fleur spoke, a wide grin growing across her fine lips. “Which story was your favourite?”

Fleur had to think for a few minutes, recalling the various tales that filled the Book of Selene and comprised the first century of Luna’s life. The vast majority of stories detailed what were generally known as Luna’s maiden years, before she Awakened and took up the mantle of the Goddess of the Moon.

“There are so many,” Fleur said to gain more time, “Tamashi was enjoyable, with the bit in the middle, though still filled with too many deaths. I found Mountain of the Alabaster Throne and Reaver on the Wine Red Sea too unpalatable.”

“Lots of good ponies died in those,” Luna agreed, ghosts haunting the corners of her eyes and weighing her words with guilt. “Too many.”

“The Moon on the Sword was worse, though.” Fleur hesitated, and was afraid to ask how much truth that particular story carried. She shuddered to think what it would have been like to see her own family die in such fashions as presented in the book. “I would say my favourite was Princess of the Red Palace.”

“Meaghan,” Luna sighed, a wistful air breaking her stern composure. She smiled, gaze far-off, and became lost in old memories. The lapse was only momentary, and then her hardened exterior returned. “What about, Ponies of the Purple Pool?”

Fleur blanched, and let out a frightened whinny.

That was her least favourite story, perhaps. Not because it had the most ponies die, or was all that violent. Rather, it all seemed so pointless, the wanton cruelty and pleasure the villain of the story drew from tormenting Luna, a little filly still reeling from losing almost her entire family. A powerful sorceress, the villain toyed with Luna and her guardians high up in the mountains of Trotalonia, binding souls to her will, and their bodies to the titular pool, where they became shambling, undying abominations.

It clicked why Luna would bring up that particular story.

“Algol is the necromancer?”

Luna gave a slight nod.

“But, in the story, you killed her!”

“Algol is difficult to kill.” Luna sighed. “She was the first star to fall, and has wandered the disc before even the arrival of Iridia and Faust. Who can say what ancient secrets are hers alone, or how she rejects the limitations of mortality? All the valla are immortal, in a sense, preserved from the effects of time’s passage. Timeless, I suppose, is the better phrase. But, Algol, she is something else.

“When the Nightmare was imprisoned, there were a couple dozen such former stars living on the disc. I hoped to reconnect with them after my restoration, but in all the time since my return, Algol is the first to reappear. I worry for my old friends, and hope that nothing has befallen them during my banishment. That they simply spurn my company for the sins I committed as the Nightmare.

“All this has little connection to the matter at hoof. Algol is a foe as deadly as what you faced on Marelantis. She delights in the spread of suffering and misery. To her it is a tonic on par with the finest of wines. That she has been here in Zebrica these many years puts me ill at ease about the entire expedition and reasons for the empress’ invitation to Twilight. Duels among zebras are to first blood, but there is nothing that states that the blood drawn can not be lethal. All her strokes will be aimed at the throat or soul.”

Luna slipped off the lounge and made her way to a corner of the room. Next to Fleur’s grand bed, rested Pallas and Aegis, the spear and shield‘s resplendence making even in the opulent room seem drab with their presence. A faint glow preceded Luna hefting the spear. She gave it a few experimental twists and thrusts, and nodded her approval.

“The Bellerophons claim you are an expert battlefield tactician, and a true warrior.” Pallas spun about Luna in a fluid dance and came to rest with a clang beside her. “How much is truth, and the after-glow of being rescued, I wonder. Show me.”

Mastering the blush that threatened to creep over her cheeks, Fleur replied, “Non, your Highness, it was Athena who did all the fighting on Marelantis. Without her guidance, I would have been lost.”

Taking the offered spear, Fleur attempted to give it a few experimental thrusts. She held no confidence in being able to replicate the intricate movements Luna displayed. Pallas was heavier than Fleur remembered, like a dead lump of pig iron. There was none of the responsive flicker, the almost eager way Pallas responded back on Marelantis.

Tsking, Luna summoned Tamashi. Her ancient moonsilver odachi did not so much appear as cut its way into the room with a ringing silence. Light was drawn into the ancient curved blade so as to make the room seem dim and frightening. In the sudden half-light, Luna’s features seemed all the harsher, a stern set making her appear as if carved from midnight marble.

“Come at me,” Luna said, dropping into a ready stance. Tamashi glimmered with eager anticipation, flying to its mistress’ side.

Mouth suddenly dry, Fleur tried to comply. The moment she began to thrust Pallas, the spear grew impossibly heavy, like it weighed as much as a mountain. With a booming thud, Pallas struck the floor. For a long moment Fleur stared at the uncooperative weapon. Magic strained in her horn, cheeks puffed out, and Pallas refused to budge. The spear mocked all her efforts.

“I was afraid of this,” Luna said after Fleur gave out a defeated gasp. With an almost casual flick of her horn, Luna retrieved Pallas and set it back next to the bed. “Whatever occurred on Marelantis, Athena’s arms now reject you.”

“Because she is gone,” Fleur concluded grimly, thoughts racing as to how she could possibly fight Algol now. Without the mighty spear and shield, she was just another unicorn. “What chance is there against Algol now?”

Luna shrugged and casually shouldered Tamashi. Princess and ancient sword were striking, as if each were a part of the other, and only together complete. Always an imposing figure, with her stern gaze that many mistook as aloofness, Luna appeared ten times as commanding. Fleur saw her as she seemed in those long lost days, the warrior-princess who protected ponykind from the horrors that lurked in the darkness of the night.

Her heart beat faster, and Fleur wished with all her might that she could have but a fraction of the strength Luna displayed.

Maybe then she’d have hope when facing Algol.

“Three days,” Luna clicked her tongue. “Let us hope it is time enough to teach you how to at least survive. I hope Twilight doesn’t mind being left alone with the empress. We have a lot of work ahead, you and I.”

Fleur blinked a couple times. “Pardon?”

“Come, let us find one of the empress’ sparing rooms. This palace must have at least one.” Luna set off at a brisk trot, indicating for Fleur to follow.

Dread still twisting in her belly, Fleur followed. How she could be prepared in so short a time to fight a being many thousands of years experience seemed impossible.

Author's Note

Every title mentioned by Fleur and Luna in their discussion on the Book of Selene is a short story in some state of progress, whether just a synopsis blurb or almost completed. I work on them whenever the mood strikes.

Sorry, short author's note today, as well as a short chapter.

Book Two: Chapter Ten: Fears Aired

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duty and Dreams
Chapter Ten: Fears Aired

Rainbow did not come back to the party, nor could she be found in the spacious apartments given to her and Pinkie in the palace’s guest wing. Worry began to form in Twilight’s stomach as mid-night came, passed, and sank towards dawn with Rainbow still unfound.

Pacing in long circles around her room, Twilight went from anxious, to concerned, had a short affair with anger, and returned to anxious. Anxiety, ever the trusty old friend, visited but a short while before it departed beneath a regimen of breathing exercises and a chapter from Celestia’s Big Book of Magical Knowledge: Advanced Edition.

Reading helped her focus, allowed her to parse the events of the evening and see how Algol had led Rainbow and herself by their noses into the confrontation. The heightened nature of her anxiety, far more oppressive than it’d ever been, and the perfect baiting of Rainbow into an argument proof enough that Algol planned events.

Twilight discounted the recent studies showing how certain mental issues only fully manifest once a pony reached their early to mid twenties, and then the effects growing more severe over time without treatment. Stress of her Awakening, having to deal with thousands of voices in her head, recent occurrences, and a low-level curse to exacerbate her negative emotions were all far more likely causes than a mental disorder like Social Anxiety.

With a snap, Twilight closed her book and went to the window. Morning was only a few hours off. It was well past the point where Twilight should go looking for Rainbow.

She hesitated only briefly, wondering what her stars thought of her. A swish of her mane called Ankaa, Phad, and Antares to the disc. The trio of stars exclaimed in surprised joy at seeing their mistress again. Relief made Twilight smile. The stars didn’t hate her for what she’d done to Sirius.

Her relief was short lived as the trio darted back, and Ankaa said, “We’re still mad at you, mistress!”

“Sirius was our leader, the most devoted of your stars, and you just cast her from our home!” scolded Phad.

“To save that stick-in-the-sky, Polaris, no less!” whined Antares. “Now the four stars that released Luna are down to three. And we are your most loyal stars!”

Head hung low, Twilight said, “I am really sorry. I failed you girls, and everypony. If th—”

“Oh! No! Do not apologize to us!” Ankaa bounced from side to side in imitation of a shaking head while Phad and Antares bobbed in agreement. Twilight straightened as if she’d been struck. “You need to make amends with Sirius, not us. It was her you wronged. We are part of you, mistress, and you are part of us. Our hearts are one and many at the same time—”

“Blech, you sound like Mintaka. So sappy.”

“—, and thus we are you. When you forgive yourself, we stars will have forgiven you. When you are mad, we are mad. It is Sirius who has been cut off from everything she once knew. It is you need to find and requires your apologies. Besides, half our sisters would have fallen if you’d but asked or commanded. Faust needed saving. We were more worried for you than for ourselves.”

Twilight was stunned, and unsure how to respond. Everything Ankaa said cut to the core, made her heart swell with pride and self-loathing. The stars were too forgiving, too kind to offer such words of comfort to her when they should despise her. Her actions were beyond forgiveness, and no matter what the stars said, Twilight would require many years before she could look at herself in a mirror without disgust.

That they were still worried for her only made the bile rise in her throat. Every fibre of Twilight recoiled until her head spun. She despised herself, hammered her follies and arrogance in the core of her being, and found herself unable to sit still.

Back and forth before the windows, she paced, mind moving like a panther across midnight dark plains, guided by feelings too severe to be given voice. Only once before had Twilight committed an act that so filled her with shame; the time she’d used magic to dominate the minds of Ponyville in an attempt to create a problem she could ‘fix’ so as to please Celestia. Then, at least, no pony had been hurt, though only because of sheer luck and Celestia’s timely intervention.

This time, somepony had been hurt.

Meeting Algol threw into sharp relief just what Twilight had done to Sirius.

She’d stolen everything that had been Sirius, and left behind… what? A pony? In appearance, perhaps, But Twilight knew that there was more to the transformation. Sirius was out there, alone, lost, frightened, and must hate her as much as she hated herself.

No wonder Sirius wanted nothing to do with her!

“Do you know where she is?” Hope mingled with a bit of fear at the answer. Just what would she do if they told her Sirius’ location? She couldn’t go to the fallen star right away, not when she also needed to find Rainbow. Unless she split herself. Luna was capable of such magic, but never taught Twilight the spells. Maybe…

“Sadly, none of us know where she has gone,” Antares sighed, settling Twilight’s choices. “She landed somewhere in Zebrica, and that is all we know. We often lose track of our sisters after they fall. Watching them… is too painful.”

Twilight numbly nodded.

“Mistress, as much as we love coming down to the disc, why did you summon us?” Phad asked, breaking Twilight out of her spiralling emotions.

A little confused by the interjection, Twilight blinked at the trio of stars as she recalled her original purpose. “I need you to help me find Rainbow Dash.”

“Is that it?” Antares did little to hide her disappointment. “Here we hoped to do something interesting. This will take no time at all.”

“I know where Rainbow has gone, mistress.” Antares orbited around Twilight then darted towards a window. “She is one of the ponies I watch. You’re lucky you called me and not Regulus or Mintaka. Follow me!”

With this, the trio darted out into the night closely followed by Twilight.

Across the city and over the bay, the stars lead her, then out into the ocean proper. Within a few minutes the glow of the city faded and was swallowed by the miasmic horizon. Darkness set in, broken only by the stars still overhead and Selene, now a mere sliver of her former self.

Twilight had never seen a night so black when the sky was clear. It was as if all the disc had been swallowed by the void. Only the occasional twinkle of starlight across the cap of a cresting wave gave any indication as to how high she flew. Otherwise, it would have been all too easy to accidentally crash into the obsidian waters.

For what felt like hours, they flew, changing course only a couple times. In reality, it was no more than a half-hour, at the most, before Twilight spotted the flicker of Rainbow in the distance as she blotted out a star here and there for a moment.

Working her wings more than she’d ever done before, Twilight attempted to catch up to her. It quickly became evident that trying to chase Rainbow down was futile. Head pressed forward, she raced the demons in her heart, seeking to break the feelings the encounter with Algol had conjured. Worse still, Rainbow swooped up and down, flying through the mouths of cresting waves so close the sparkling waters brushed through her tail and mane. Using a quick teleport, Twilight crossed the distance. Rainbow jolted at the sudden flash of magic, lost her rhythm, and almost slammed into a wave. Expert twists of her wings and body saved her. With a deft somersault that would have garnered thunderous cheers from a crowd, she avoided the crash and gained some altitude.

“Gah! Don’t do that Twi,” Rainbow snapped, gaining a bit of altitude before leveling back off. “You could have gotten us both seriously hurt! Who taught you flight safety?”

“You did,” Twilight responded, a bit of bite in her tone. “You know flying on your own over the ocean is dangerous, especially at night! What if you got lost and couldn’t find your way back to shore? Or crashed. When I saw you just now, I just… I’m sorry.”

Rainbow opened her mouth to argue, then snapped it shut, looking away from Twilight instead. Worry for her friend spiked in Twilight’s stomach. Rainbow should have given a surly response, or boasted, or something. Not gone silent.

For some time they continued flying, side-by-side, with little alteration in course. The salty wind that tussled their manes was the only difference from flying over Canterlot. Otherwise, they could have been back home.

At last Rainbow spoke, banking to the south as she did so. “I’m not ready to be a mom, Twi.”

“I think most mares feel that way, Dash.” Twilight gave a small laugh as a memory flitted past. “Mother told me she was so afraid when she had her first foal.”

“Ugh, Twilight, that’s not what... I’m not worried about being a good mom. I’m going to be the best mom ever!”

“What? Then what’s all this about?” Twilight asked as they began heading towards a nearby puffy cirrus. The cloud glowed in the starlight, a safe harbour for any pegasus foolish enough to be out in the otherwise perfect darkness.

Rainbow didn’t respond as they skimmed over the cirrus, hooves leaving little trails through the ice crystals. Twilight lost sight of Rainbow several times, her more agile friend weaving through and around the cloud. As they neared the cloud’s edge, Rainbow put on a burst of speed, tipping over the side and entered a dive.

Twilight had to work at keeping pace with Rainbow as they raced towards the ocean. Rainbow was completely at ease with her angular wings tucked in against her body and the wind ripping across her face. She reached the bottom of her dive long before Twilight, wings flashing out to alter her course and shoot out over the water. Twilight pulled out of her dive at almost the same time, her turn far slower and shallower. The tip of a hoof still managed to skip through a rolling wave before Twilight started climbing again.

“Haven’t you ever wondered why I don’t talk about my mom?” Rainbow sighed when Twilight caught up, spiralling upwards towards a towering, anvil-faced cumulonimbus. Rainbow eyed the storm as they moved around it’s perimeter, a deep frown tugging at her face. “She’s never really been a part of my life. My dad is awesome. He basically raised me by himself. My herd-moms helped a bit, but they were always busy with their own foals. Mom though, the most I can give her was that she was just there,” Rainbow said more to herself than Twilight, back-winging to hover before the cloud. Staring ahead, Rainbow continued to speak. “She’s in the weather-guard, like all the mares in my, uh, family.”

“You mean your Legion,” Twilight interjected.

Snorting, Rainbow shook her head. “Should have known you’d know about that. Yeah, my legion.” Rainbow gave another snort and made air quotations. “‘Stormbreakers’. Renowned for weather manipulation, and using the cover of storms to clobber their enemies. Our legion is one of the oldest, and longest running, members of the army. A proud tradition, mom used to say, dating back to Commander Hurricane. Way she told it, our ancestors practically pulled Cloudsdale across the ocean to Equestria alone while everypony else was too weak or frightened to do anything. Mom’s a commander now, and she’s always pushing me to follow in her slipstream. That was her dream, though, not mine... Mine’s always been to race. To be a Wonderbolt!”

“But, the Wonderbolt’s are a rival legion to the Stormbreakers,” Twilight said, more to herself, as she thought over the snippets she’d picked up of Pegasi politics from her time in Canterlot. She regretted her words at once, Rainbow unable or unwilling to hide the angry grimace that twisted the corners of her tight mouth.

Hovering beside Rainbow, Twilight tried to apologize for interrupting, but her friend was fixated on the developing storm.

“This isn’t part of the plan.” Rainbow paused as she looked past the storm to some distant, possible future. “Not many Legions will accept new ponies into them, Twi. There is an old pegasi saying, ‘The Legion is the peak that anchors the herd’. The Wonderbolts might take in three or four new members over the next few years, out of hundreds who apply.”

Sighing, Twilight wished she could give Rainbow a hug. It’d mean entering free-fall, and every book Twilight had read on the subject made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that doing so over any body of water was a very bad idea. Instead, she just tried to make her presence felt.

“Dash, you’ve had the opportunity to abandon ponies before in pursuit of your dream.” Twilight said, moving to hover in front of Rainbow. “Nightmare Moon gave you the chance to be a Shadowbolt, all you had to do was turn away from four strangers and Fluttershy. But you didn’t.”

“Of course not! Who’d want to be some lame Shadowbolt?” Rainbow rolled her eyes.

Shaking her head, Twilight pressed her point. “No, you don’t understand how much character and loyalty that took. Nightmare Moon was lacing her offer with potent magic. The same kind of mind control magic I used on Smarty Pants.” Twilight paused to let her words sink in. “Plus, if it really was your dream of being a Wonderbolt that drove you, why did you come on this voyage?”

Snapping out of her stupor, Rainbow almost snarled as she said, “I’d never leave you or anypony hanging, Twi! It’d have just been you and Pinkie. I didn’t feel right letting just the two of you go off without me.”

Twilight gave her head a little shake as she slid to Rainbow’s side. “I know the choice you’ll be making, Dash. I think you do to.”

“It’s not fair though!” Rainbow yelled, tossing up her hooves and shooting forward a few lengths before turning to face Twilight. “Giving up a summer to spend time with you and Pinkie, okay, sure. But I made that choice, Twi! This,” Rainbow gestured to her midsection, “I didn’t make this choice. This has been forced on me. And now, another pony is going to get hurt in order to keep me safe!”

“Yes, and I realise how unfair that is,” Twilight fluttered to Rainbow, and finally wrapped her friend in a hug, the pair falling a few yards to the rim of the cloud. “But, Fleur is showing you the same loyalty and dedication that you have for everypony else.”

“Yeah, well, it sucks. I hate feeling not just useless, but like I’m causing trouble for everypony else. I’m supposed to be the one who jumps into the fray to protect others. Me and AJ. That is our ‘thing’. We’re fighters, unlike the rest of you softies. Now, I’m having to sit on the sidelines.” Heavy bitterness made Rainbow sink lower and lower until she came to rest on the edge of the storm.

“Maybe it is a good thing you are being forced to play it safe for a bit. You take a few too many risks, Dash,” Twilight said, followed by, “it’s not like there is anything we can do about it now. All you, or anypony else, can do is make the most of a bad situation.”

“No, there isn’t anything I can do. I can’t even yell at the pony who did this to me, because she is inside me.” Rainbow agreed, kicking a puff of cloud.

“Yes, she is.” Twilight said softly, feeling her friend tremble beside her, though in anger, sadness, or some combination of the two, Twilight was unsure. “Remember what Faust said? That whoever your foal was before, she gave up everything in choosing you to be her mother. Every memory, every little thing that comprised her past, wiped away. Gone. She will never be that pony again. Instead, she will be somepony new, guided by your love and the lessons you chose to impart onto her.”

Ears laying flat against her head, Rainbow huffed. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No, it’s to help you understand. Look at what happened to Rarity. How she—”

“Don’t you dare bring her into this,” Rainbow snarled and stomped a short distance away across the cloud, her hooves leaving little craters. “Rarity is gone because of them! And because of us. We should have been there for her! If we’d not broken up the group, then maybe…”

“I know,” Twilight replied softly, a flash of lightning beneath her lighting up the night, and throwing the rage twisting Rainbow’s face into sharp relief. “I keep feeling like she isn’t really gone. Like Rarity is still out there, waiting for us to rescue her. But, what happened to her could have happened to you, Applejack, or Pinkie. I am so, so grateful that none of you have to battle for your very soul. Fluttershy... we came so close to losing her, too. What I hope is that instead of attempting to steal your life, this pony decided to have you as her mother. As you said, you’re going to be the best mom ever.”

Rainbow took a deep breath and let it out through her nose. Slowly, she came back to sit beside Twilight. Extending a wing, Twilight wrapped Rainbow in a tight hug. They stared out over the ocean from their perch on the storm’s edge. Eventually, Rainbow gave a weak chuckle, and brushed a lock of her mane out of her face.

“This is so messed up, Twi.”

“No argument here,” Twilight quickly responded, a contemplative silence ending their conversation as they continued to sit holding each other. After a while, Twilight gave Rainbow a little squeeze and said, “Come on, we should head back to the palace. Or, at least to the Bellerophon, if you want some privacy.”

Rainbow laughed, a short, happy noise, but a genuine laugh, nevertheless. The sound made Twilight hopeful. “Yeah, I guess so... uh... which way is it?” Rainbow swung her head around, but there was no sign of land.

Stifling a smirk, Twilight pointed to the north. “It’s that way, about thirty miles or so. I can sense Luna there fairly easily.”

The flight back was done in silence as Rainbow retreated into her thoughts. She spoke only once, when the city’s lights at last broke through the hazy horizon, to thank Twilight. For her part, Twilight just smiled in return. They took a long turn around the Bellerophon, their home of the past few months, so silent and snug at anchor in the bay next to the other ships, before they headed towards the palace. Twilight and Rainbow landed on the shared balcony of their rooms just as the glow of dawn’s rosy approach began to brighten in the east.

Thornhaven was a hub of noise and activity. Halla filled the ancient castle, sweeping out rooms that had been closed off for years, placing cloths over tables, moving furniture about, and hanging paintings on the walls. Wonderful smells emanated from the kitchens, busy with the effort to feed the hundreds who’d come up from Reinalla to assist in the effort of airing out and cleaning the castle.

Between the halla zipped the group of fillies who’d come with Iridia, Scootaloo leading the way as they searched for secret passages, hidden chambers, and long buried secrets.

Iridia watched them scamper about with great contentment. She did not realise how much she missed the sounds of little ones at play. Their high pitched laughter, the patter of small hooves over the rugs and wood flooring, the amused admonishments of the adults who had to jump around the playing terrors to avoiding being tripped; it all made her heart so much lighter.

That day, the four fillies decided to explore the castle cellars, now that they were clean and empty enough to be entered.

Down there, Iridia had less to worry about when it came to them finding trouble.

Unless they somehow managed to open the hidden door to the caverns running beneath the castle. But, Iridia could not surmise how they’d even reach the panel to open the door. If she had more experience with the Cutie Mark Crusaders, she would not have been so dismissive.

Instead, she hummed a little ditty as she made her way through her castle towards the former Grand Council Chamber, once again her throne room. Banners with the crests for all the original Lodges of the halla hung from the vaulted ceiling, and a new, thick red carpet ran the length of the aisle to the slight raise where her throne would sit when it was ready. On pulling it out of the cellars, it was discovered that her old throne had succumbed to the damp and rotted away. Down in the town, several master craftselk from the Badger Lodge plied their skills in creating a new throne, one that would last a little longer, be grand, yet reflect the simple, earthy nature of the halla. Two other, smaller thrones were likewise being made. One for Twilight, for when she decided to visit, and the other for Namyra, which would forever remain empty in remembrance of her loss.

A bit smaller than Canterlot Castle’s throne room, with a closed, grim air brought about by the clammy late-spring morning and grey stonework, Iridia nevertheless preferred it to the almost too-bright hall of her niece. This was a throne room that suited the nature of her halla. Stoic. Stern. But, with a warm, friendly countenance if managed just right. Perhaps some braziers in the corners would help liven the room a bit.

Iridia found Fluttershy there. The poor thing had tried so hard to avoid Iridia ever since the debacle at the fort. After two weeks, Iridia had given her enough time to sort through the emotions dredged up by encountering Artemis’ estranged father.

“So,” Iridia’s voice echoed wonderfully in the stark, stone hall, accompanied by the quick clicks of her hooves, “It is time we had a conversation.”

Fluttershy spun about and shrank beneath her mane, one visible eye darting towards the various exits before it settled on Iridia.

“I really, um, don’t think there is anything to talk about, your highness.”

“Fie, there is plenty to discuss. No more avoiding it, as you try to avoid everything difficult or uncomfortable. So, out with it. Say what you’ve wanted to say for weeks now.”

Fluttershy cringed, and shrank lower in Iridia’s shadow. “Fluttershy… Fluttershy is dead. I killed her! I killed her when I didn’t force her to go right away to Zecora to find a way to separate us. I killed her by being afraid of what would happen if you or the other alicorns of Ioka found out what I’d done. I killed her because I was too slow and she acted first when we pushed Applejack out of the way of Serene’s spell. I am Artemis, and I killed Fluttershy the moment I took her as a host because I was worried for Tyr’s safety.”

Tears streamed down Fluttershy’s cheeks as she finished, thick, normal, natural tears that pattered down on the stone floor. Iridia brushed the tears away with a wingtip, and said, “There seems to be more of her mortal qualities left than you realise.”

With a great sob, Fluttershy buried her face into Iridia’s shoulder and neck. Taken aback at first, Iridia slowly wrapped her wings around the smaller mare. She let Fluttershy cry, to release the emotions she’d pent up. When Fluttershy’s tears began to thin, Iridia carefully pushed them apart.

“Fluttershy is not dead,” Iridia admonished softly, drawing a weak sniffle from Fluttershy. “I am something of an expert on souls, seeing as I am responsible for them finding proper homes in the spring, and will give you a few bits of advice; they are resilient and tenacious little things. Life has a way of ripping them, tearing them, pulling and stretching them, but they always mend. They always come back through the Font healthy and hearty, ready for the trials of the next life.”

“You just… You just don’t understand!” Fluttershy hiccuped and shook her head. “You only see them after their time in Tartarus. Fluttershy is gone.”

“Maybe I don’t understand everything involved in the great cycle of life,” Iridia shrugged, “But one of the things I can do is look at a pony and know them. And, when I look at you, I see both Fluttershy and Artemis even now. You can chose who you want to be.”

Fluttershy withdrew deeper into herself, fresh tears, these the crystal shards belonging to an alicorn, rimming her eyes. Her mouth moved a few times with words that could not be said. She hovered on a precipice, emotions welled, built into a great tempest, and ultimately turned inward and were left unaired. Shaking with the battle that raged inside her, Fluttershy spun about, tried to pace, and then came back to Iridia when that too proved futile.

Iridia sat patient through it all as Fluttershy attempted to sort through the storm of emotions, dreams, and thoughts. Any attempt to pry more from Fluttershy would only cause the mare to retreat further into herself. She had to speak, or not, on her own.

A few of the newest initiates to the Lioness Lodge came into the throne room looking for Iridia, and were quickly shooed away. Iridia’s entire focus was Fluttershy.

“F-Fluttershy. I want to be Fluttershy,” she finally said, sagging with the effort to give the admission voice. “S-She is the stronger, better pony. Fluttershy may act small, and avoid confrontation, but she would always, always, comes through for her friends in the end. Artemis only knew how to r-run away.”

“Fie, that is untrue. Even I know that, and I hardly know anything about her,” Iridia said with a slight laugh, one to soften her words. “Artemis may have been more hesitant, or may not have been. It hardly matters. But, she was willing to risk everything to protect those she loved. She would have sacrificed herself for Fluttershy, a mortal, but Fluttershy acted first, by your own admission. Don’t belittle her in an effort to prop up Fluttershy. Both are there, inside you, and you need to be able to accept them both or you’ll become unbalanced and risk falling. Take it from me, you do not want to fall. Madness of that sort is a terrible, terrible thing in our kind.”

Fluttershy jerked back as if she’d been bucked. Her mouth fell open, inarticulate sounds tumbling from her.

Iridia stared at Fluttershy, and truly saw the mare. Saw who she truly was at her core. Saw her true name emblazoned across her essence, and felt a wave of pity and hope.

Reaching out, Iridia took Fluttershy into a hug. “Of all Twilight’s friends, you have always been my favourite. Oh, I like the other girls well enough, but you have always been such a gentle thing, that I couldn’t help but be taken with you since I first snuck into Ponyville. You’ll find your way through this with the usual humility and kindness that have always been your hallmarks.”

There was a surprised squeak against her neck as Iridia refused to let the hug end. How she wished that, with the wave of a wing, she could banish all Fluttershy’s problems. That it was impossible left a bitterness in Iridia’s mouth, heightened by an understanding of the trials that faced the nascent goddess. All the more so with that Hades fellow running about.

“Um, your highness?” asked one of the initiates, having waited a polite distance away.

Irritation lifting the corner of her brow, Iridia turned to the small, frightened doe. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait a few minutes.”

“Maybe,” the initiates looked to each other, “it is just…”

The initiates voice trailed off as a new commotion filled the castle. Shouts rebounded from the antechamber, there was a brief scuffle, and then the throne room doors were hurled open. In the archway, chest heaving with ire, stood Applejack, Soarin behind her trying his best to hold back three halla, each twice his own size.

“Alright Iridia, where are they?” Applejack demanded. “Where is my sister and her friends?”

“Lady Applejack, this is a happy surprise! I thought you’d be staying in Canterlot given your pregnancy.” Genuinely happy at seeing one of Twilight’s friends, especially with everything going on with Fluttershy, Iridia smiled broadly and waved away the guards. “I could use your assistance, actually. As for your sister and her friends, they are quite safe. I believe they have been exploring the castle today.”

Making a little noise, the initiate stepped forward. “About that, Your Majesty. The fillies have gone missing.”

“Missing?” Iridia repeated, a lump of dread landing in her gut, Applejack echoing her sentiment. “How can they go missing? They can’t leave the castle.”

No sooner had she spoken than there was a deep boom from somewhere far beneath her hooves, the castle shook, and a wave of revulsion crawled over Iridia. Her skin jittered, wings thrust out, and teeth ached with unfamiliar revulsion.

Something ancient, powerful, and filled with malice had been awoken.

“Hurry!” Iridia cried out as she took off towards the secret passages and many chambers hidden beneath her home, Fluttershy and the others close behind.

Author's Note

Yes, I know it has only been a week since the last chapter was uploaded. Originally, this was meant to be part of that chapter, but was cut for length reasons, and to have a few more passes over a couple areas.

This chapter has one of the segments I've managed to 'save' from the original version of Myths. I'm sure a few of the long-time readers noticed it. I've always loved the conversation between Twilight and Rainbow. It feels very slice-of-life.

Much of the Fluttershy-Iridia stuff is repeating for the sake of there being no ambiguity on the issue and to put it to bed once and for all. It is the last bit of house-cleaning I believe I'll be doing on the subject.

Next chapter is going to be fun! It is so, soooo close to being a side story, or a full fledged story in its own right. The CMC are in for an adventure!

Book Two: Chapter Thirteen: The Song of Celestia

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duty and Dreams
Chapter Thirteen: The Song of Celestia

Soir bounded along the dusty path. Overhead, Sol turned the noon-day sky a sweltering orange-yellow, like she was trying to swallow the heavens. Wrapped in a white cloak, hood pulled down to shade her eyes, Soir didn’t worry about the blistering heat, or the lack of civilization as far as she could see. It’d been days since she and Hades entered the Great Dragon Desert. These were lands never settled or tamed. Even in the days of Marelantis, nopony dared enter the domain of the dragons.

Out in the sandy wastes slept the likes of Nogalacna the White, Ramoth the Golden and her consort Mnementh the Bronze, Cealanog the Ever Hungry, Tiamat the Chromatic Tyrant, and her ancient rival Bahamut the Platinum Protector. These were but the most renowned of the dragons who slumbered for centuries, awaking to brief periods of violent activity. Dozens of elder dragons slept, coiled about glittering hordes of gold, gems, and precious stones, deep in swirling dreams of greed, pride, and power.

She could sense them out there, alone in the scorched, barren, golden sea, almost as if their dreams were songs carried on the blistering winds expelled with their breath. Closing her eyes, Soir immersed herself in one such dream.

Her wings cast shadows across entire lands, and her head rose above even the tallest mountains. A glittering ocean of gold was laid at her claws by ponies, griffons, and zebras as payment for her protection. She was a good protector. A benevolent lord. So long as treasure flowed and they sang her name in worship, rather than those of the pretenders who imagined themselves her rivals. Foolish little wyrmlings. She would teach them humility and take their hordes for her own.

A little shake cast off the dream. Turning about, Soir skipped along backwards, waiting for Hades to catch up.

Even Hades walked softly, sunken eyes watching every hill, lest it should begin to stir. His bident hovered ready at his side, and the traces of a deadly spell prowled the grooves of his horn, eager to be completed and unleashed.

“Why do dragons sleep so much?” Soir asked in a voice that carried easily over the soundless dunes.

Hades didn’t answer at once, and when he did it was with a gruff snort. “Dragons are old beasts, the first of the mortal races conceived by alicorn and demon. The gods of fire and creation lent their knowledge to the likes of Leviathan, Mephistopheles, and Asmodeus, and created the first dragon. She was a weapon, and like all weapons, when the war for which she was forged was over, she lacked a purpose. So, she sleeps, as do all her brood who grow old and powerful.”

As stories went, it wasn’t the worst Hades had shared. Soir detected it was only a partial truth, which could be said of most of the grim god’s stories.

“What was her name? The first dragon?”

Hades shrugged. “Leviathan herself is sometimes said to be their mother, and from her they were gifted her serpentine qualities and colossal size. Other tales state the first was simply called Dragon, and all this is pointless. Leviathan is trapped beneath Tartarus, and all the first generation of dragons have long since died.”

“Leviathan isn’t trapped in Tartarus,” Soir responded, and gave her head a confused tilt. Affecting a didactic tone, like that used by her mother, Soir recited the passages about the summoning of Leviathan and the destruction of Marelantis as told by the Book of Names. A couple of the passages she mangled, and she hesitated over the final bit about Iridia and Faust fleeing the island.

Impassive, Hades said, “Impossible. I would know if one of the Great Sins escaped.”

Face puffing up at being disbelieved, Soir replied, “I am not lying! Everypony knows to be wary of Pride and Envy, because they are what destroyed all the old ponies.”

Sighing, Hades waved a wing, and conjured a large tent filled with bowls of fruit, sweetened water, and thick cushions. “You’ll get sun-sick soon if we don’t rest,” Hades said, and spread himself out beneath the shade, the conversation brushed aside like so much sand.

Grumbling, but knowing better than to bother arguing, Soir lay on her back, one hoof sticking out into the sun. In a warm, lazy haze, Soir’s thoughts drifted towards Twilight. ‘Find the stars,’ Faust had said, ‘and restore Harmony.’ How was she, a little filly, meant to do either? If not for Hades, she’d still be stuck back in Lourdes.

She wondered what Twilight was like. Her mama had said Twilight was a hero of Equestria and had saved the disc from Eternal Night by healing Princess Luna. That made her a pretty good pony, Soir thought.

“Say, Mr. Hades, do you know Twilight?”

“I have told you before that I do not.”

“Is she nice?”

With a long, rattling sigh, Hades rolled over.

“I bet she is like Princess Luna.”

Hades snorted.

“Do you think she will like me?”

Silence.

“Have you ever met Princess Luna?”

“Why must fillies talk so much?” Hades asked the desert at large.

“Mama said it is because Faust gave us the spark of curiosity,” Soir smiled, lifting herself up, head propped on a hoof. “What was your daughter like? Artemis?”

Rolling back over, Hades glowered at Soir. “She was the light of the Underworld, and my greatest joy. Hopefully, she’ll be returned to me soon.”

“I’m sorry. If not for me you’d already have found her,” Soir twisted her hooves together and found herself unable to look directly at Hades. “You really are a good pony, you know.”

“No, I am not.” Hades stood abruptly, and stepped out of the tent.

She almost jumped up to follow Hades, but quickly decided against bothering him anymore. He had the grumpy adult look that meant it was better to give him some space. Further reinforcing her decision, her stomach gave a low growl. Soir poured herself some water, and took a large pomegranate from a brass bowl. Flipping it in her aura, she peeled away the skin from the seeds. Popping a few seeds into her mouth, Soir felt sorry for Hades.

He tried hard to hide is heart, much like her mama, except he was so much easier to see through. Ever since they’d entered the desert, he’d been closed off, moody, and prone to going off on his own. Soir knew her geography well enough, and they could have crossed the desert in a day, two at most, if they’d simply flown. Instead, Hades seemed to want to take his time and brood. His excuses that the dragons would attack if they flew were obvious lies. If they didn’t stir when he used magic to summon the tent and food, they would ignore him flying so high in the sky.

Tossing aside the pomegranate husks, Soir decided to go explore, guessing that travel was done for the rest of the day. Just a short distance from the tent, the rocky, broken ground gave way to sandy dune seas. Golden hills heaved in rolling waves, their tops sparkling as the the dry winds whisked away the loosest grains. Laughing, Soir sank her hooves into the hot sand, and flopped down to make a sand alicorn.

Keeping the tent always in sight, she made a wide circle around the small camp and began to sing. The song had no lyrics other than those that sporadically sprang forth from her lips, then tumble away like the grains of sand whipping through her mane.

It was like being on a giant beach, and Soir loved every moment. She couldn’t wait until she found Twilight, restored Harmony, and could go home to tell her mama about all the places she’d seen.

As she completed her second turn about the camp, she noticed something out in the dancing mirages. Squinting, she shaded her eyes and peered hard as she could into the wavering miasma. After a few minutes, the speck become clearer, slowly resolving into a single black coated pony flying just above the dunes.

“Mr. Hades!” Soir called at the top of her lungs, head partially turned to where he sat beside the tent, still brooding. “Mr. Hades, somepony is coming this way.”

Hades jerked his head up, brow set into one of his typical scowls. He followed Soir’s hoof, and said in a stern voice, “Hide in the tent. It seems Twilight has sent us a messenger.”

“Really?” Soir swished her tail and came up beside him. “This has been an easy adventure! We’re already almost done.”

“Perhaps,” Hades chewed on the word. “Go inside the tent.”

Knowing better than to protest, Soir sufficed to pout, shuffle inside, and find a slit in the canvas through which she could watch and listen. It wasn’t long before the pegasus arrived, and landed in a swirl of sand before Hades.

“Greetings, Lord Hades, the God of the Dead, King of Tartarus, Master of the Golden Keys; I am Algol, the Demonstar, and wish parley.” Algol swept into an elaborate bow.

“Parley? Very well. State your intentions, and then be on your way,” Hades carried himself at what Soir termed his ‘regal’ posture. She hid a giggle behind a hoof as he stood there all puffed up like a peacock. The grown-ups looked over to the tent, then back to each other.

Algol rolled her wings, and gave a sinister smile in the evening light. “I only wish to speak with you. The filly with you is extremely pink to me, and I would make certain she is kept gentle golden-red. The mortal I trusted with her care lives? Ah, she does. Such a good, lime green and foamy blue mare she has been.”

Ears perked up, Soir gaped. This was the mare that gave her to Jardin? But, wasn’t it Faust? Jardin always said Soir was a gift from Faust.

“I gave my word to Soir that I would take her to the Goddess of the Stars, one Twilight Tuilerya,” Hades responded, as if that were all the explanation needed.

Evidently it was, as Algol nodded, and moved on. “My mistress is presently in the ancient city of Zerubaba, but will be there only a few weeks longer. She seeks the final filly who fell from fair Gaea to Ioka, and will soon possess her location.”

“You would betray your mistress?”

“How can I betray she who never held my loyalty?” Algol rocked back on her hooves as she laughed. “I have met many gods of the stars; Astraea, Astarte, Baltis, Citlalicue, Hathor, Ira, Tala, and Varda. I even met Ishtara, a strange foreign goddess from a place beyond the realms of madness. She and her kin spent a time here on Ioka, before departing for other realms. They were fun. Such deep reds and flashing golds composed their hearts!”

Hades considered Algol for some time, judging the crazy pegasus.

“How long has it been since you fell, oh former star?” Hades eventually asked.

Algol gave her wing an airy wave. “The calendars keep changing. I lost track several ages ago. No star fell before me, not on this or any other world. Ioka was still young, and the great raft of her kin could be seen swimming through space day and night; a hundred worlds fresh-spawned and vibrant yellow! In those days the songs of my sisters and I reached our cousins above the other worlds, creating a chorus so beautiful I sometimes weep to have forgotten its silver tones. A kaleidoscope of emotions resonated into our dreams. Behind Ioka, the first sun glowed orange-hot as it contained Yarmalyth, the Screaming Sultan bound in timeless sleep tended by the God of Order. So long have I been on the disc, I have grown mad, sane, and mad again I know naught how many times. Is that answer gold?”

Hades snorted, and gave his head a long, weary shake. “Madness clearly has you in its fragmented grip again.”

“Yes, though not of my own choosing this time, but because of her,” Algol pointed to Soir with a wing.

Letting out a little eep, Soir ducked back down, and missed what was next said. Her breath came in quick, shallow gulps, head swimming with conflicting thoughts. Algol was a villain! If this were one of her mama’s stories, and she the hero, then Algol was the villain who… killed her mother? Soir tilted her head and then shook off the silly idea.

Maybe Algol was her real mother. No, that was stupid, too. Algol was a pegasus, and she was a unicorn… maybe. Besides, everypony seemed to think her mother was one of the gods. Soir was no fool. She’d been able to piece together what everypony had said and stopped short from saying. Which meant her mother was Luna, obviously. Why else would she feel such a strong connection to the moon goddess?

Luna was a central figure in the slivers Soir had managed to identify of her past. That she dreamed most nights of Luna also helped. The dreams alone would have been suspicious enough, given normal unicorns had but a single dream in a year.

Well, except her mama.

Soir’s mama dreamed frequently, though she seemed to forget the dreams within moments of waking. Maybe she was the cause. Soir tapped a hoof to her chin, brow scrunched as she delved through ideas that had long existed on the fringes of her mind, purposefully ignored. Hints of her past, from the lack of a birthday photo on the mantelpiece, or any discussion of her father, bubbled to the surface. To this she added the recent revelations that Faust herself was concerned for her safety. Her hoof fell to her flank, and the strange mark she bore.

Inspiration flashed, and Soir jumped out of the tent.

“It means dreams!” She exclaimed, Algol and Hades looking over with slight amusement at her interruption. “My mark! I figured it out. My talent is with dreams.”

Turning away, wings spread to take flight, Algol said, “Do what you will. I am placid blue to know Namyra is safe. Till we meet again, Lord Hades.”

“Um, I said… My talent is dreams?” Soir blinked a couple times, then a couple times more as Algol took flight. Hades didn’t move. Cautiously, she scooted up beside him, reached up, and touched his shoulder. “Are you alright, Mr. Hades?”

He seemed to snap out of a haze, and glanced down at her with eyes dark as an ocean on a cloudy night. Whatever Algol had said affected him deeply, made him retreat even further into himself. Soir wished she could make him feel better. Take his hurt and hug it all away. Movement in the corner of her vision made her jump, and for a second she thought a dragon had awoken.

Instead, it was a thane that stepped forth. Soir frowned, a knot of dislike in her throat. Why was a thane following them? Had it come for her? She went rigged. Was she about to die!? She felt totally fine, though. Not that that meant much. She recalled old Mr. Potier had died suddenly while tending his kilns. Nopony knew why, just that he was laughing and making his pots, and then he fell over and was gone. Was that about to happen to her?

Soir gave her head a violent shake, and slapped her cheeks. No, she was Luna’s daughter! Which meant she was… an alicorn? Soir glanced over her withers, her very wingless withers.

Thoughts still racing, her ears perked up as Hades addressed the thane.

“Go to Zerubaba. You know what to do, and make certain they know the source of my wrath.”

Pulled out of her contemplations, Soir dictated by rote memory, “Wrath is the fifth Great Sin; For she who fill her heart with wrathful thoughts will be easily lead astray; The Book of Sol, the Great Sins.” She caught her lower lip in her teeth, and seeing the fury pinching the corners of Hades jaw, she asked, “You aren’t going to hurt anypony, are you, Mr. Hades?”

Ignoring her, the thane bowed, then took flight and flowed Algol south.

“Let us hurry, little one,” Hades said to her in a voice that left her feeling cold and alone. “We have much distance to cover before we reach Southstone, and reunite you with your sister.”

“Sister?” Soir scrunched up her nose, confused. “Princess Cadence is in Zebrica, too?”

Shaking his head, Hades banished their campsite, and indicated for Soir to jump on his back. “Come, we are flying the rest of the way.”

Squealing with delight, Soir threw her hooves and Hades’ neck, and settled herself between his wings. Creating a great flurry of sand, Hades launched them into the heavens, and then turned a sharp course towards the south-east.

Looking over the broad devastation of southern Prance in the flowing light of day, Celestia was struck by a heavy weight of how it had all been so senseless. If only her mother had taken the time to talk to Zeus, rather than rush ahead like a battlemad minotaur. Nothing could strike Celestia as being more unlike Faust, and even after weeks of parsing events, she remained unable to fully grasp what drove her mother into such recklessness.

Her mother’s conveniently inconvenient amnesia only compounded the issues.

A deep sigh whistled between Celestia’s teeth. Just when it seemed like they could finally reconnect, be a family like they’d been so long ago, they were torn apart again. Even Iridia was restored to her former self. Celestia had gone so far as to permit herself to dream of passing the governance of Equestria fully to the House of Ladies, leaving the throne as little more than a vestige of former monarchical power. They’d have found a quiet place, somewhere in the Heartlands, where they could be alone for a while, like those glorious few years in the Valley. Fate, it seemed, had other plans that were far too cruel.

Putting further melancholy thoughts aside, Celestia turned to her companion. “So,” she said, “shall we get to work?”

Zeus rolled his wings and gave a wide grin. “Ha-ha! I will have these forests and fields good as new in a day. No, less. They will be even better than before, the earth more fertile and the skies commanded to be pleasant year round. They will have gentle rains in the spring, glorious sun all summer, and warm blankets of puffy clouds in the fall. Winter will bring white fields of snow almost as pure as your own coat, my beloved—”

“No,” Celestia said, cutting him off. “The land will heal, in time. Ioka takes attempts to ‘fix’ her disc poorly, believe me. No, we will go among the towns and help them rebuild their shattered lives.” Celestia indicated a nearby town with a wing.

Demolished roofs and charred trees were only the most visible scars. Everypony in the town had lost loved ones. Some lost all their family.

“Follow me,” Celestia said, dropping off the cloud on which they sat. As she spread her majestic wings, she cast a spell to hide herself under the guise of a simple pegasus.

A short distance behind her, Zeus did the same. They circled the town and came to a gentle landing next to the temple. One side of the roof had been torn away, a jagged stump all that remained of the belltower. With the temple unsafe, the Sisters had set up tents on the grounds where ponies could sleep. An awning in front of the doors to the temple shaded a large book watched over by a novice where the names of the missing could be written down, and scratched off when they were found. Next to the novice, another Sister passed out bowls of thin soup to waiting ponies.

Looking up as Celestia and Zeus approached, the novice put on a forced smile. “Faust’s blessings, strangers. Do you need help with anything?”

“No, we were passing through and wondered if there was anything we could do to help, actually.”

Smile growing a little more natural, the sister shook her head softly and said, “Every bit of help is appreciated. Sister Tourte has been asking for more hooves over by the mill. Th-they still haven’t gotten all the bodies out, yet. And we are desperate for every bushel of grain that can be salvaged.”

Celestia nodded, and with Zeus in tow, made her way over to the former mill.

They were greeted with exhausted scepticism by Sister Tourte until Celestia reiterated her desire to help. The moment Celestia began to speak, a deep scowl crossed Sister Tourte’s taught mouth, and she snorted, “We can manage just fine without you.”

“Excuse me?”

“We do not need the ‘help’ of Equestrians. We have already received all the ‘help’ we will ever need from the Daybringer.” Sister Tourte dismissed them with a wave.

Celestia let out a little sigh, and took a moment to contemplate how to calm the priestesses anger. Out of the corner of her eye, Celestia caught Zeus’ furious expression just before he let out a deep growl.

“It is a fool who turns away an offered hoof out of spite,” Zeus marched up to the sister, and loomed over her. “Especially when in as desperate need as this town finds itself. And how is it that you blame Celestia, when it was Faust who caused all this damage when she challenged another alicorn?”

Cursing inwardly, Celestia hovered on the precipice of intervention. Revealing herself was, perhaps, the worst possible answer, if the sister’s reaction to a simple stranger from Equestria was any indication. Seeing Celestia had been disguised would be so much worse, and the rumours that would spread as a result far more damaging than if they’d done nothing.

Not so easily dissuaded, Sister Tourte snorted, and stretched up on her hoof-tips so she was nose-to-nose with Zeus.

“The tales of Faust being present are false, as Mother Framboise would attest, if she were here. Holy Faust has never directly confronted another alicorn. Reports of a fiery maned, white mare fit Celestia when she has warred in the past. No, no, my goddess is not responsible for this madness, but her failure of a daughter.” Sister Tourte spoke with such venom and anger that Celestia rocked back on her hooves.

Around them came a few grumblings, some ponies in agreement, others shaking their heads or looking away with embarrassment.

“Sister Tourte, that is quite enough!” Interjected a middle-aged mare coming up the lane , flanked by a pair of Sisters. “You embarrass the monastery with these outbursts.”

“Mother Framboise, we do not need—”

“We need all help offered, Sister Tourte. The capitol is working with its usual diligent pace, and if not for the kindness of strangers, we’d have no roofs over our heads or food stored for the coming winter.” Mother Framboise stared down Sister Tourte until she shrank back from her elder and offered Celestia and Zeus grudging apologies. Expression softening, the Revered Mother continued, “Why don’t you go help Sister Sequin. You are so good with the little ones, and they need to be surrounded by love in these trying times.”

Once Sister Tourte had left, Mother Framboise introduced herself properly to Celestia and Zeus. Celestia returned the courtesy, offering names ‘Sunny’ and ‘Stormy’ for herself and Zeus respectively, and thanking the Revered Mother for her assistance.

“Nevermind that,” Mother Framboise said with a dismissive wave. “Every pony is under a great deal of stress, and some react poorly to witnessing their idol’s fall first hoof. She is a good pony, underneath her surly hide.” Looking Zeus over nose to tail, she said, “My, you are a strapping stallion! We could certainly use your help. I bet you can do the work of several ponies!”

“Ha-ha!” His stormy expression was swept away by the Revered Mother’s flattery. “I am stronger than a dozen ponies! Come, lads, let us not keep the mares waiting with bellies pinched with hunger!” Grinning, Zeus thrust out his chin and marched towards where a group was erecting a scaffolding and winch to lift a wall. Habitual laughter announcing his arrival, Zeus grabbed a rope in his teeth, and began to help.

Stepping up next to Celestia, Mother Framboise let her calm demeanor slip into a severe scowl. Celestia raised a brow at the sudden hostility. “Thank you for coming, Your Highness, but, you shouldn’t have brought him here,” Mother Framboise gave Zeus a sour frown, then shook her head. “If you two are discovered, it would upend all our work to recover the towns’ spirits. But, I suppose you have your reasons.”

Celestia let out a long sigh, not surprised that one of her mother’s High Priestesses knew her identity. “Since I am stuck as his chaperone, I figured it might do some good if he saw the damage he caused and helped to fix it.”

She stared at Zeus’ back, watching him like a hawk as he helped lift an entire wall with a single wing, and toss it aside as if it were lighter than a feather. The workers gawked for a moment before they began to form a chain to pass out the grain bushels. Celestia shook her head at the display of exceptional strength. No doubt, Zeus simply assumed it as something ponies were capable, since it was a mere fraction of his natural abilities.

“Honestly, I am uncertain if he is a bad pony, or just an idiot. I’m leaning more and more to the latter.”

“An idiot in love with the sun? Now, there is the start of many a story.” Mother Framboise laughed at the exasperated groan that came from Celestia. “Holy Faust warned all the Mothers about Zeus, and to keep an eye out for you and him. I can not begin to express the relief I felt to hear Her voice, especially since I am the only Mother to have been present and survive this disaster.”

“A disaster she could have avoided, if she’d but come to me first.”

“Oh?” The High Priestess asked, the skepticism in her tone burdening the single word with an entire speech worth of rebuttals.

Celestia released a slow, sad sigh. That peculiar aura of a Revered Mother drew answers where Celestia intended to stay silent. It was one of many reasons she tended to avoid the mares. Before Celestia noticed, she was deep into a tumbling soliloquy.

“I know I am not my sister. Luna is the fighter, not I. She spent her formative years under the tutelage of knights, soldiers, kings, and warlords, honing her already keen natural talents. We she not bound to Selene, Luna may have been a Goddess of War. In contrast, every time I have taken up sword or battle-spell, disaster has followed. Mother warned me time and time again to leave fighting to my sister, and events have shown merit to her advice. So, I have cultivated other skills. Diplomacy, manipulation, and the carefully crafted aura of a statesmare. All to keep my ponies safe, mostly from myself. Unleashing Sol’s full fury has devastating consequences.”

“Yet, when you took up Coronal Edge against Zeus, disaster was halted. The same is true of your final confrontation with the Nightmare a thousand years ago.” Mother Framboise pointed out, and Celestia had no argument against her point.

Celestia laughed. She found herself enjoying having an impartial ear willing to listen to her ramble. How long had it been since she’d really just talked to somepony about her own thoughts. Not all that long, in retrospect, and it was becoming a far more common occurrence year by year.

“I am no longer afraid of my own power. What I mean is that we could have come up with a plan that wouldn’t have resulted in so much misery.”

Mother Framboise leaned back and watched Sol through the thin layers of clouds. It was going to rain later, and the clouds were beginning to grow heavy where they’d been gathered by the few pegasi in the area. “I think that was why She pushed herself so hard against Zeus, even knowing that it was impossible to win. Your shadow only continues to grow with each passing year. Enough to make even Holy Faust doubt herself.”

Celestia verged on speechless. The idea of her mother being envious, or intimidated, by anypony was utterly preposterous. Especially for herself to be the cause of Faust’s insecurity.

A tune struck by the ponies as they worked flowed over Celestia and Mother Framboise, and the pair stopped to listen.

Merely we work away,
Though the clouds be growing thick,
skies turning an ugly grey,
Golden is the day.

Prophecy foretold,
Praises sung to us all,
Oh, She named her,
‘Celestia’,
Protector of us all.

A fife cut in, adding its sharp, high notes to the myriad voices, ponies clapping their hooves in time as Zeus took up the next verse.

Oh, the legends so bright,
Defender of the light,
Magic and mystery,
Coat a glowing white.

Mane of roiling, flowing flame,
Quite a vision to behold,
Many hearts she’d did claim,
Lovely Celestia.

At this, the gathered villagers broke out into a rousing chorus, their voices strong and carrying far. The music swelled, somepony adding the sweet chords of a guitar, sending the notes dancing like sprites across a field of flowers.

And the skies would weep,
And many dreams she’d keep,
And all the days belong to,
Her Celestia.

Mares and stallions began to pair off, hooves skipping to the beat and swing their partners into a heated dance. Though their homes were lost, and many loved ones gone, the natural good hearts of ponykind refused to wallow for long in misery. The guitar swelled, and Celestia herself sang, her voice so pure, so beautiful, filled with a touch of her Power, nopony present remained sorrowful.

Oh, in a palace so fair,
On distant snowy mount’.
Guidance given to us all,
Written on scrolls of gold.

Ne’er an angry word,
Graces tongue or brow.
Rule over all the land,
Wise Celestia.

And the skies would weep,
And many dreams she’d keep,
And all the days belong,
To Celestia.

And the skies would weep,
And many dreams she’d keep,
And all the days belong to,
Her Celestia.

Overhead the clouds parted, Sol’s golden rays shining down on the town, and the singers. Sol’s heavy voice touched Celestia in a happy, bouncy hum. Joy, warm and ever expanding, flowed through Celestia from Sol, and out towards the ponies.

Oh, the song of Celestia,
Glowing through the heart,
Better not turn away,
Kind Celestia.

When she cries, “Have no fear,
Until the end of time.”
You will e’er be protected,
By Her Celestia.

Again came the chorus, the ponies singing with far greater gusto. Celestia joined in, spinning about, the center around which all the others danced. Their faces shone brightly, the last of the grain bouncing out of the ruined mill as they swirled and sashayed. Zeus carried a dozen bushels on each wing, and on these sang a fair young mare.

And the skies would weep,
And many dreams she’d keep,
And all the days belong,
To Celestia.

Twilight was torn from pleasant dreams by a hoof playfully circling the base of her wings. Saffron and spice tingled in her nose in wonderful swirls, and the hoof trailed along the curve of her neck. A happy murmur rolled from Twilight. The other pony shifted in the large bed, and nipped at her ear with the edge of pointed teeth.

Twilight’s eyes flashed open at the bite.

In a panic, she took stock of her location. She wasn’t in her own room, but one far more lavish and ostentatious, yet with a warm, lived-in quality. Colourful cushions were stacked next to an open window and tea table, with old books within easy reach. Dresses dangled over a bedroom screen, and an open jewelry box sat on a vanity, necklaces, bangles, and earrings spilling out of the painted rosewood.

“Good morning,” Maatsheptra purred, taking a last nip at Twilight’s ear before she rolled out of bed and sauntered towards her vanity. A silk dressing gown floated down from the bedroom screen, and the empress slipped into it as she crossed her bedroom.

Heart hammering against her chest, Twilight raced through her memories of the previous evening. There were flashes of laughter and leaning against somepony almost as tall as herself. After staggering down gilded halls, Twilight started to bid Maatsheptra a good night outside the open doors to the empress’ quarters. Reckless impulse compelled Twilight to snatch a kiss, and push her way into the room. Subtle resistance melted, and the bed welcomed the giggling pair.

What followed turned Twilight’s face a deep crimson.

Glancing to the side, Twilight spotted the empty bottles of Moonwine on the bed stand, along with two glasses. She was beginning to loathe the delightful nectar.

“I must admit, Princess Twilight, I never suspected you to be so adventurous and bold.” Maatsheptra said with a satisfied nonchalance as she rang a small bell to summon her maids.

Blush growing deeper, Twilight wanted nothing more than to turn invisible. She regretted never learning such a useful spell. Teleporting seemed far too rude an option. Trapped, Twilight could only sputter an apology as the empress’ hoofmaids, along with those assigned to Twilight, entered through a side-door.

Panic flared for a brief instant. She was doubly caught lying tangled amid the empress’ bed sheets, with nowhere to run. The mares’ faces were utterly placid, but Twilight was certain she detected a hint of judging amusement twinkling in their eyes.

A deep breath, held for a count of three, and then quickly released expelled a portion of Twilight’s anxiety. She reminded herself that there was nothing wrong with ponies enjoying each others’ company. It was simply something done in private. Without a small herd of hoofmaids listening through the door as…

Twilight bit down on her tongue and focused solely on the pain.

Her fears dimmed a little at the laissez-faire demeanor of the empress, but only a little. Reminding herself she needed to show strength, along with repeated refrains of ‘what would Celestia do?’ helped create a place of refuge from which she could control her anxiety, if not embarrassment.

“I was lead to believe that ponies were so staid, and boring, when it came to matters of the bedroom,” Maatsheptra continued, either enjoying Twilight’s embarrassment, or oblivious to it. Almost certainly it was the former.

“Yes, well, everyone seems to forget that I was half raised by Cadence.” Twilight crossed her hooves, and after a short internal debate went to a nearby bench so as to allow her hoofmaids the ability to brush her mane, coat, and wings. “It is just something I participate in only rarely.”

Bookended with laughter, Maatsheptra said, “You did seem rather pent-up.”

Cheeks burning hotter, and unsure if she wanted the answer, Twilight asked, “It wasn’t bad, was it?”

The question slipped out before she fully parsed the repercussions, and cursed herself for sounding like an uncertain teenager after her first time. Sure, her list of partners was rather short. Okay, there were only three names on the list, including Maatsheptra, and both of her former partners had been stallions. But, she’d read everything there was on the subject, even the much maligned Book of Love, with all it’s dreadful ‘love’ potions and ‘passion’ spells. Not that she’d memorised the contents, a cursory reading giving her enough understanding to discount anything the book contained as useless. The romance novels of one Miss Lucky Score had been far more informative on the subject.

As if reading her thoughts, Maatsheptra answered, “It was very… methodical, at first.”

Twilight’s ears dipped, then picked back up.

“At first?”

“Mmm, you grew very intense. Passionate. The thing you did with your wings,” a gentle purr rolled from Maatsheptra, and she gave Twilight a seductive wink over her withers. “When you trusted yourself, and followed your instincts, it became a glorious night, indeed. It was nice being surprised, for once.”

Conversation naturally carried on in a similar vein. Twilight wasn’t surprised to discover Maatsheptra had taken many partners over the years. Many, many partners. But, never one she loved.

“I can ill afford ‘love’, Twilight,” Maatsheptra sighed as her jewelry was placed over her head. “My empire comes first, even before my own foals. I hardly need inform you of the weight of such responsibility. Bereft of an alicorn’s fabled immortality, love is a vulnerability I can ill afford.”

For a moment, Twilight felt like she was back in Ponyville’s spa with Rarity, discussing all the juicy gossip of the day. It was refreshing to allow her mane down around the empress. No worries about decorum, about saying or doing the wrong thing and causing an incident. The empress appeared to enjoy the relative freedom as well. She spoke at length about her daughter and son, how one was so good and decent, and the other such a mischievous little scamp. Her face glowed when she talked about her foals, and for the first time Twilight was struck by the realization that Maatsheptra was not unlike any other mare.

As they spoke, Maatsheptra began to fiddle with a lapis-lazuli broach. She turned it over this way and that. Put it in a small jewelry box only to take it out again. Eventually, she retrieved some enchanter’s tools and worked on a little segment of some charm.

When Twilight asked about what she was doing, Maatsheptra sighed and said, “I have been preparing this for Algol, a simple thing to bring her a bit of luck and keep her safe. It is silly, I am aware. Algol is more than capable of looking after herself, and, despite all my efforts to the contrary, I love that mare. She is the closest thing I have to a mother, and without her, I’d have no empire to guide.”

The broach was passed to Twilight. It was a very simple affair, well crafted and sturdy, in the traditional old Queendoms style. Essentially, a charm to bring good luck, the enchantment was rather basic comparable to some of the earliest spells Twilight had learned during her apprenticeship. Given the size of the broach and the materials used, it was actually a little remarkable Maatsheptra managed to stabilize the matrix.

Twilight passed the broach back, and the conversation shifted again.

All too soon they were brushed, decked in their chosen regal apparel, and princess and empress quit the bedroom chambers to go their separate ways. They hesitated only a few short moments, Maatsheptra leaned in to whisper, “I hope there will be a chance to repeat last eve, before you are forced from my home.”

Blush returning, Twilight admitted she was a little partial to the idea. She promptly kicked herself for accepting so quickly. Tail seductively swishing, Maatsheptra vanished down the corridor.

Flanked by her hoofmaidens, Twilight decided to check in on Fleur and Luna.

Already well acquainted with the Golden Palace, Twilight fairly skipped along. She was under no illusions of being in love with Maatsheptra, and Cadence would have quickly agreed. No, it was the growing warmth of budding friendship that made Twilight’s hooves lighter, and the day seem a little extra bright.

Certainly, she’d never slept with any of her friends before. The idea barely crossed her mind more than two or three times over the years. The closest she’d come had been the slumber party, since it was in a few of the later chapters of her slumber party guide book. Fate, however, always seemed to have other plans for the group.

Twilight abandoned the line of thought as she arrived at the training hall and made her way inside. She paused just inside, overcome by the sight that greeted her.

Wood clacked against magical shield, accompanied by shouts, as Fleur charged Luna. In an easy, loose stance, Luna held her wings open, aether dancing along the primaries as she cast. Fleur spun her practice spear, seeking a hole in Luna’s defenses. Her opening came as Luna abandoned the barrier to unleash a bolt of blue-white aether.

Anticipating the attack, Fleur changed her direction with a stamp, thrusting her spear at Luna’s chest. Luna flowed around the practice spear, rather than simply dodge the attack. Twilight was overcome with awe at the display. Luna’s movements were nothing like the Nightmare’s. She was filled with efficient grace and perfect poise. Catching the spear in her primaries, Luna twisted it from Fleur’s grasp. Without slowing, she tossed it away and brought her other wing up in a sweeping slash, stopping just a hair’s breadth from Fleur’s throat.

Breathing heavily, Fleur slumped a little, and went to retrieve her practice spear.

“It looks like Fleur’s training is going well,” Twilight said as she approached Luna.

Luna shook her head, but it was Rainbow who answered. Snorting, she said, “This is torture! It’s like watching a cadet copy somepony. She has no imagination or talent. Fluttershy could do better, and well, she is Fluttershy.”

Twilight gave a little start, having failed to spot Rainbow and Pinkie sitting on the sidelines. Fause sat with them, her wing draped over a very grumpy looking Timely. Twilight trotted up to the group, Luna close behind after she instructed Fleur to go through some practice routines.

“You are all too accurate, Lady Dash.” Clouded in an air of regret, Luna watched Fleur repeat the strikes and steps over and over. “Algol is a foe I would be hesitant to send my greatest knights against. Fleur has no chance of winning, even if she had years to prepare.”

“Unless she could access Athena’s knowledge and skills, you mean,” Twilight supplied, scratching her hock, uncertain what she could do to help.

“Athena is gone, and there’s no sense lamenting what might have been. Better to .focus on what will be, or could still be,” Faust said, rolling her wings in a shrug.

Upper lip curling with disdain, Luna asked, “And what, mother, is the future you see for Fleur?”

“Many, and only one,” Faust said in a distant, almost bored monotone, as if she’d had to repeat the same answer dozens of times already. “I no longer meddle in Fate, Luna. Trying to control a force beyond her was the great mistake the former Faust made, and it cost her, and everypony she loved, immensely.”

“You talk like Faust—you—died, and was a different pony.” Exasperation gave Twilight’s voice a bit of a harsh snap.

Grinning like Twilight had told a private joke, Faust nodded. “Faust did die, and then you saved me, Twilight. She and I are divided by several thousands years of memory and experience. I could be her again, should enough time elapse, and similar events replayed. Or she could return to me via other means. Such speculations are pointless, however. I am me.”

Groaning at the non-answer, Twilight decided to see if there was any help she could provide Fleur. Afterall, she was an accredited Master Abjurer by the Council of Magi of Equestria. Teaching Fleur teleportation or blinking was impossible, given the few short days remaining before the duel, but there were a few wards and charms that could be taught in that space of time.

Tossing a towel used to wipe her face aside as Twilight approached, Fleur enquired what the commotion was all about. After Twilight explained, she gave the offer to help teach several common, simple wards.

“Merci, mi amie, but such spells, wouldn’t they be much like a foal trying to fight off a dragon by waving her hooves in the air, non?” Fleur invited Twilight to join her in the middle of the training hall with a tilt of her head.

“I’ve found that simple, basic spells to be far more effective in a fight than long, complex matrices,” Twilight casually explained, taking up the spot Luna had occupied when training Fleur. “Not only are they easier to remember, and form, they are a lot quicker, and their simplicity gives them a surprising amount of flex when channeling excessive amounts of aether.”

“Are you certain they were only so useful to you because you are an alicorn with all the magic of an alicorn?” Fleur took up a practice spear, and gave it a few twists and jabs, trying to get a feel for its weight. When satisfied, she squared off against Twilight, waiting for an answer.

Twilight didn’t have an immediate answer to give. She’d never contemplated the idea before.

The core principle held a measure of accuracy. Coupled with being Fostered during nearly all her previous fights, with the fate-bending nature of the enchantment, she couldn’t claim her experiences as being anywhere near typical or indicative of the usefulness of the spells.

There had to be some way to protect Fleur. Some spell, or skill, or item…

Ears perking up as ideas began to build, and coalesce into a plan, Twilight said in an exuberant burst, “I know how I can help!” Before anypony could ask her what she meant, she’d darted from the hall and back to her quarters, leaving a bemused Fleur alone in the middle of the training hall.

Maatsheptra’s words rattled in Twilight’s head and formed the core of her idea.

While it was impossible to teach Fleur the necessary spells, it was possible for Twilight to craft an item to carry the protective wards. And, she knew exactly what to use.

Bursting into her room, she threw open the drawer next to her bed and pulled out the box sent to her by Iridia, and a large satin pouch.

Twilight hadn’t thought about the pouch given to her by Bonnie Belle in some time. Better known as Bloodrose Belle, Captain of the Sea Serpent, the most notorious pirate in several generations, she was also Rarity’s mother, and Twilight dreaded having to meet the mare again after her failure to protect Rarity. A failure she would never repeat.

Inside the pouch were several large blue diamonds mined somewhere in Griffonia, and then passed from trader to trader, until ending up on a Hackney bound merchant ship, one that was taken as a prize by Bloodrose. The gems were of startling size for having come from outside Equestria’s gem-farms. Pure, natural blue diamonds; no better focus for enchantments could be found on the disc.

Next, Twilight retrieved the tiara, and set aside the box.

Tools. She required tools.

These turned out to be easily acquired, her hoofmaidens sent to fetch them from around the palace. In short order she had microscopes, magiscopes, fine pointed etching tools, clamps, bags and bottles of reagents, and mounds and mounds of parchment at her disposal. The room quickly became more laboratory than bedroom, which made Twilight feel more at home than she’d been in months.

Turning the tiara over, Twilight placed over it a sheet of thin parchment, and traced an outline. She set aside the tiara for the time being, along with the gems after selecting three moderately sized, clear stones. The remaining seven she placed back in the bag for later.

For the next several hours Twilight stared at the parchment picturing various matrixes for the enchantments.

She began with the most plain, simplistic, and easy to craft. Something used as lessons for first year students. Lacking the necessary subtleties and strength Twilight required, she quickly moved on to more advanced matrices. One by one these were discarded, problems cropping up in an endless maelstrom of discarded ideas.

Most of a night was wasted trying to overcome the flaws inherent to Equestrian enchanting. Though a pinnacle of the enchanters arts, with devices and tools unimagined even a few years prior, Equestrian methods held a number of flaws when attempting to place multiple functions into a single item. There was beauty to Equestrian methods, the fantastical natures of the palaces and ships produced testaments to how Equestria rivaled Marelantis in terms of the enchanters arts, despite the two systems being as different as day was to night.

Twilight’s ears pricked up, like a fox hound sensing prey.

Marelantis was the answer. Their methods were slow, and almost utterly forgotten, but possessed all the traits she required.

At once, pen began to fly across the parchment, tracing echoes of the enchantments Twilight had seen in Leviathan’s palace. Circles within circles connected by interwoven lattices of runes. Her initial attempts were quickly discarded, a hefty pile of crushed parchment growing next to Twilight’s desk.

Groaning, Twilight rubbed her dry eyes and woke the stars before setting back to work.

She could feel the approach of a block, of a hurdle that she’d either crash into and push against for days until either giving up or overcoming. Unable to afford such a delay, Twilight cast about for a guiding light, and found it in Altair, the Charmstar.

Since time immemorial Altair had guided and watched over the greatest enchanters of every generation. The star held boundless knowledge on the nature of enchantments, charms, and wards. Pulling on the ethereal chain binding Altair to her, Twilight was filled with all Altair’s accumulated knowledge.

A second creative wind followed, Twilight’s pen moving seemingly of its own accord.

Inspiration guided Twilight’s pen into a pattern more intricate than any she’d previously attempted. Ordinarily, she never would have contemplate such an enchantment. She was not as talented as Rarity when it came to the school, and since moving to Ponyville, hadn’t found much opportunity to practice her admittedly meagre skills. Confidence in her new-found powers, however, spurred her onwards.

The Charmstar hovered around Twilight for the entire design process, imparting her knowledge and understanding of charms, enchantments, and wards to her mistress. Vega appeared here and there as well, supplying blessings intended to fend off black aether.

No question existed about the nature of Algol’s magic. Meeting Algol had been enough to confirm that she practiced the colloquially termed ‘black magic’, her presence overflowing with malicious intent. Few ponies ever used black aether, the colour long associated with darkness, demonology, corruption, and the mind. Outside of historical figures, the only pony Twilight knew who’d ever controlled black aether were her mother, Velvet Sparkle, and that was mostly by rumour and stories. Twilight wished there was time to go and consult Velvet.

Black aether was not evil, per se, only that the applications strongly suited Algol. Altair and Vega both agreed with her assessment and went a step further, informing Twilight that before her fall, Algol had held a fascination with the Dark runes themselves, and gathered to herself all that she could discover.

Patterns within patterns began to emerge, focusing on the central gem, with the others providing supportive auxiliary functions.

Wishing there was a way to test the enchantment’s matrix without wasting materials and precious time, Twilight took up the largest of the gems, and began the painstaking task of aether-etching, channeling magic through the gem at specific frequencies while inscribing the necessary runes at an almost microscopic levels.

Working without pause, the hours morphed into days. Distantly, Twilight was aware of setting the stars, and rousing them from their sleep. In a similar manner, she knew ponies came and went from her room, some asking questions, others just sitting nearby while she worked. Her answers, when necessary, were all succinct and to the point. Follow-up questions were ignored, and received low growls if pressed.

She had no time to spare on the trivialities going on around her.

Not even when Faust and Applejack’s raised voices echoed through the guest wing, or when the palace shook from what was either an earthquake, or a frustrated alicorn stamping her hoof.

At long last Twilight reached the culmination of the echanting process; setting the etched gems into the inscribed tiara. The fitting had to be absolutely precise. There was no room for the slightest error. Each gem took several hours to place, adjust, and then finally set.

When, at last, the central blue diamond was fitted a shimmer rippled across the completed tiara, and Twilight allowed herself a relieved breath.

Pushing herself away from the desk over which she’d been hunched she could not say how long, Twilight inspected her work.

Everything was as intended, and if she’d not erred in designing the matrix, the tiara would provide greater protection than the finest suit of barding, and create a barrier sturdier than those cast by the finest battlemages. Twilight doubted even her brother was able to cast a better spell.

All that remained was to give the tiara a name. The Diadem of Stars, or perhaps, Twilight’s Tiara were the most logical, but felt a little underwhelming. Twilight knew what she’d made was unlike anything else forged since Coronal Edge and Penumbra were respectively crafted by Celestia and Nightmare Moon.

She’d decide on a name later. First she had to give it to Fleur.

Turning on her stool to place the tiara in its box, Twilight was shocked to find Applejack dozing on her bed.

Applejack rested on the bed, legs stretched out to the side and chin on folded hooves. Matted fur on Applejack’s cheeks gave testament to tears shed and since dried. Raising her head a little, Applejack gave one of her brave half-grins that spoke of inner turmoils, and a fervent desire to not have them affect the here and now. It was a smile Twilight was used to seeing moments before she and her friends plunged into the latest danger facing Equestria.

“How long…?”

“Have I been here? Almost a week, Sugarcube,” Applejack said with a yawn. “Or, if you mean about how long you been working. Princess Luna said you started a little bit before we got here. ‘Shy’s out in the gardens, enjoying all the exotic flowers an’ critters an’ such. An’ Soarin is off getting me something to eat. I think he’s lost again, though. Been gone a while.”

“Fluttershy’s here too?” Twilight blinked a couple times, and then became aware that she’d felt Fluttershy and Iridia arrive some time before, and promptly put aside the implications of them coming to Zebrica entailed for later parsing.

She couldn’t tell where, precisely, the others were, only that Luna was somewhere in the palace, Fluttershy a little further off in the gardens, while Faust and Iridia were down in the city.

Shifting topics, Twilight asked, “What happened?,” while she placed the newly crafted artifact on a velvet cushion, and closed the lid on the box.

Her mood steadily darkened as Applejack related everything that had occured since they’d parted following Rarity’s funeral. When Applejack reached her arrival in Zebrica, she snarled, “And Faust, Celestia damn her, refuses to help! She won’t say where Apple Bloom and the other fillies are, except that they are relatively safe. ‘Relatively safe’!? If that ain’t some of the worst hedging I’ve ever heard! Every time somepony presses her, she just starts spouting off some confounded nonsense about not interfering in Fate no more.”

Anger made Applejack’s voice crackle, and her tail snapped side-to-side.

Sadly, Twilight was presented with no time to comfort her friend as her hoofmaidens appeared, and said, “Your Divine Highness, it is time to get ready. The duel is only a few hours away.” Between them, they pulled out one of Twilight’s dresses, a flowing blue Rarity Original vaguely reminiscent of traditional Neighpon styles, trimmed in gold, complete with accompanying jewelry. “Her Majesty says that if we fail to hurry, you will be late for the preceding ceremonies. You as well, Lady Apple. It has been decreed that all the Elements of Harmony are to be present.”

That was all it took. Twilight’s heart hammered against her chest, and said, “We can’t be late! Applejack, you need to get ready as well. I’ll help you find your sister, of course. But first, I need to make sure one of my fallen stars doesn’t kill Fleur.”

Jaw tensing like she was chewing on one of her old hats, Applejack snorted, and said, “Fine. Not like I know what to do next anyways. Promise me, Twilight, that nothing will happen to my sister, and you’ll get her home.”

A niggling voice in the back of Twilight’s head warned her not to make such a promise. Not when she had no idea about the Crusaders situation. Were she able, she’d have split herself in two in order to protect Fleur and the Crusaders. She’d been able to protect princess Hattmettren, and she’d protect them too.

Author's Note

The Song of Celestia is heavily inspired and molded after Blackmore Night's 'Loreley'.
Side-note; Trying to get lyrics to look right with the changes to this site's formatting is a pain...

Some sections of this chapter were a breeze to write; such as Celestia and Zeus, or Soir just hanging out with Hades. Other parts were a real pain in my tushie, like Twilight and Applejack's confrontation with Faust. As you may have already surmised, it was cut and condensed until it was only a short mention between Applejack and Twilight.

I'm a bit disappointed in myself that I just couldn't get Applejack's argument with Faust to work without it becoming very clunky.

The other aspect of note is Twi-sheptra. This has been an idea I've toyed with for a very long time. A very, very, veeeeeery long time. At first it was a joke; 'What if the Empress seduced Twilight? Ha-ha!' Then, as I explored Maatsheptra's motivations and goals, it became more and more apparent it was something she would at least attempt. Add in drunk-Twilight, a nod to 'Longest Night' with the effects of Moonwine on her, and it was a short sequence that just flowed onto the page.

We're past almost all the build-up towards The Duel now. There is just a Fleur point of view section in the next chapter with her final preparations before the duel, and then the duel itself will be in 15, barring any surprises and moments of inspiration on my end. At this point I highly doubt it.

Also; I hate writing children and toddlers. Talona is the bane of my existence now. Soir to a slightly lesser degree.

Book Two: Chapter Fifteen: The Duel

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duty and Dreams
Chapter Fifteen: The Duel

The heady smells of sweat and blood left a dry, dusty aftertaste lingering at the back of Fleur’s throat, as she prepared for the duel. Luna and Rainbow helped her with the straps for her barding, a fine suit of glistening chainmail with a simple peytral and greaves. General agreement held that anything heavier would slow her far more than any protection gained warranted. She looked the part of the knight, a holy champion draped in the dark blue and gold tabard of the Order of the Ascendant Moon.

An ancient, defunct knightly order, the Ascendant Moon, were romanticised as champions of the common pony. Throughout the Old Queendoms, many old foal’s tales centered around the various knights and their daring exploits.

She wished she felt as confident as she appeared. Doubts rampaged across every corner and field of her mind. Her heart refused to slow, and her breaths came sharp and shallow. On the edge of a panic attack, Fleur reminded herself she’d done everything she could to prepare, and was being watched over by Luna and Twilight.

A knock on the door preceded Twilight entering the room. The princess was regal and alluring in her blue and silk dress. A long tassel inscribed in ancient Thulesian script was draped down Twilight’s shoulders, pinned to a voluminous stole by jeweled representations of her cutie mark. In a nod to ancient depictions of Faust, a series of bamboo scroll cases adorned her right side.

Not everything was pleasing about the princess. Her face was pinched with some inner debate, her steps holding a barely contained agitation.

“Twilight, are you well?” Luna asked, keen eyes flitting over her cousin.

Twilight’s fair features contorted with inner conflict, and then melted into a warm but forced smile as she let out a long breath. “No, I learned moments before having to rush here about the Crusaders, and how my… Iridia stole and then lost them.” Twilight shook her head slowly. “I’ve promised AJ to help find the girls. Soon as it is night, I’m going to get the stars looking for them. There has also been a persistent pony praying to me for the last hour. I’m still getting used to ponies asking for my guidance and help. It’s is like a fly that keeps buzzing in my ear. This is over top of the growing cacophony of regular prayers.”

Luna shook out her glittering mane, and gave Twilight a slight nod. “You will get the hang of the prayers, in time.”

Twilight gave Luna a look that spoke of her doubtful hope. Focusing on Fleur, Twilight said, “We’ll see, but, for now, Fleur, I have a gift for you.”

Fleur raised her brow and raised it further when she opened the box Twilight gave her.

The tiara within fairly vibrated with power. Starlight blazed from the blue diamonds, filling the entire room with brilliant glow that cast everypony's shadows in sharp relief. It was almost blinding to look upon, like the sun in a clear sky, and Fleur had to squint and shift her gaze to the side.

“That is new.” Twilight clicked her tongue as she reached in and gingerly picked the tiara up with her aura. “I’ll have to figure out why it is glowing so much and fix it.”

“Non, she is beautiful,” Fleur said in breathless wonder. “What is her name?”

“I call it… um…” Twilight’s face scrunched up for a moment. “Altanairis, for Altair and Marelantis, since they served as the roots for her creation. I debated a few other names, but nothing else felt ‘right’.”

Fleur repeated the name softly as she took the tiara and placed it on her head. Gentle warmth seeped from the wondrous artifact, slowing her heart and calming her fears. Filled with a startling confidence, Fleur smiled and settled into a loose stance, losing her previous rigid anxiety. Taking up the spear and shield offered by Rainbow, Fleur didn’t even lament the missing Pallas and Aegis.

“I am ready,” she said, and then lead the procession towards the arena.

Before long, Twilight and the others broke off to head to their seats in the Imperial box, where they would have the best view of the duel. Each gave her a final word of comfort or advice, and then Fleur was alone.

Each of those final one hundred steps to the gate was poignant with the weight of what was to occur in but a few minutes. Fleur cast her thoughts back over the weeks, months, and years, and settled on the image of Fancy Pants, safe and secure back in Equestria. Her heart fluttered at the memory, and she experienced a sudden longing for some token or lucky charm of his.

She was met at the gate by an assistant to the Master of Duels. A few other zebras waited near the gates for their own duels. Some were confident, others jittered and chewed on the edge of a hoof or inside of the cheek. One zebra wore armour far more glittering and embossed than what Fleur had been given, while the others were in various hodge-podge garb comprised of boiled leather or padded cotton barding. Their weapons were likewise varied in quality, though all had the same style of bladed bridles and spurs on their greaves.

Much like their Earth pony cousins, the options for zebras were limited when it came to battle.

The small gathering turned as one at Fleur’s approach, their expressions a mixture of wonderment and disdain. Fleur stood apart with her heraldry and arms, an outsider intruding on an ancient tradition. Around them, murals of Samalla were etched into the walls, made by those who’d come to the arena over the generations to settle their differences in the Zebra way. One of the younger zebras made his way to one such mural, and lifting himself up ran the edge of a bridle-blade along the lines forming a wing. He was followed one by one by the others, each taking a moment afterwards to kneel and pray.

Fleur only caught a few words, enough to indicate that they were praying to specific stars, Sirius chief among them. For a reason Fleur could not place, Sirius’ name prickled in her thoughts and gave her the sense of something being amiss. What, however, hovered just beyond her grasp.

She had only a few moments to puzzle over it before the Master of Duels’ assistant stepped forward and barked instructions in the rough tongue of the lowland zebras, used by the vast majority of the common folk.

When he was done, the assistant trotted briskly up to Fleur.

He wore a bright red vest, gold tassels sewn along the edges, and an equally vibrant green hat. There was a certain matter-of-factness about the young stallion that somehow provided comfort. To him this was just another day curating the events of the arena.

“Listen. Only saying once. Wait for name. Go in ring. Give speech, or no. Bow to Empress. Bow to opponent. Try not die.” There was a level of rehearsal to the instructions that said the zebra had only the barest grasp of Equestrian, if any at all.

Fleur nodded and continued to wait.

One by one the zebras were called into the arena. Through the dusty gate came the roars of approval and harsh boos of the crowd. None of the other duelist returned, leaving Fleur to wonder about their fates. Given that zebras fought until First Blood, she imagined bruised egos, but not much worse.

The last of the zebras trotted into the blazing sunlight, and Fleur was left alone but for the assistant.

A sort of tranquility settled over Fleur. She’d done everything possible to prepare. Certainly more than she’d have imagined only a few weeks prior. Her lack of knowledge when it came to dueling and fighting in general was rather a problem, one she resolved to correct. Eyes closed, Fleur rehearsed everything Luna had taught her. If she survived, Fleur decided to take up fencing.

Through the gate came an especially loud roar from the crowd.

And then a longer than usual calm.

Fleur began to fidget, playing with the buckles on her greaves. The assistant looked bored in his corner, waiting for the page to bring word of when to raise the gate for the final time. Fleur tested the heft of her spear, practicing a few thrusts, getting used to its weight in her aura.

She wished there was a nearby clock. It would have told her only a minute had passed since the previous duelist entered the arena. Time crawled along slower and slower. She went to ask the assistant about the delay but remembered that he couldn’t speak Equestrian and doubted his Prench was any better.

To her credit, Fleur didn’t think about backing out or running away. Though, given the heavy doors that were the only other way out of the corridor, she doubted it was even an option. She strongly suspected them to have been bolted shut the moment she’d joined the others.

Eventually, finally, the assistant called her name, and the gate rattled open.

Flipping her head, chin raised, Fleur cantored into the arena proper, and the streaming sunlight. Blinking in the sudden brightness, she was taken aback by the sea of zebras surrounding her. She’d been to a few of the Wonderbolt’s races, but being in a crowd was little like being the center of its attention. The roaring. The stamping hooves. Every eye directed at her, and her opponent. It was… chilling in its intensity.

The Empress’ box jutted out and rose over its neighbors, leaving little doubt who was most important. Awnings fluttered in the balmy, tropical afternoon, and kept the five ponies, and their guards, watching from the box cool.

From somewhere beyond the crowd rattled heavy chains, and additional bright green and gold awnings extended out from the colosseum's roof. A dark ring of shadows crawled across the dusty ground until only a small circle remained.

Five sunbleached pillars formed a ring of sorts, dividing a sandy outer band from hard-packed earth in the center. Chips and knicks marked the pillars broad sides, and the old iron hoops dangled. In ages past, slaves and prisoners awaiting execution would be chained to those pillars. They remained as reminders of the arena’s original purpose. Placed along the wall at even intervals, weapon racks spoke to its current use.

Smiling, Algol sauntered into the patch of sunlight. She wore no armour, bore no weapons, and had no use for either. Utterly at ease, confidence oozed from the fallen star. It was almost as if she was out for an afternoon stroll and only by happenstance managed to wander into the arena.

Moving up beside Algol, Fleur faced the Empress’ box. Twilight fidgeted in her seat, while Luna had adopted the stern frown for which she was known. Around the royals, the Elements of Harmony sat in states of varying distress. Applejack appeared almost sick. Pinkie didn’t look at the arena, instead focusing on Rainbow. For her part, Rainbow stretched forwards as if attempting to get into the arena. Only Fluttershy seemed calm, though it was hard to tell for certain given how her mane hid half her face.

As she stopped, Fleur’s hooves squelched in something sticky. Looking down, she found herself in the middle of a large, still wet puddle of what could only be blood. Her nostrils flared, and her heart leapt up into her throat, beating like the blows of a hammer against her chest. There was far too much blood for whomever it had belonged to still be alive.

“Soon, your’s will join it in the dirt,” Algol purred in the same tone a lover would use. “Hot, crimson, and flowing. And then the mistress will break. Black, grey, and red in her heart. So much red.”

Fleur did her best to ignore Algol’s baiting, calm her racing heart, and faced not the empress, but Luna and Rainbow. Luna gave a slight incline of her head, just enough to silently tell of her faith in Fleur. Fleur returned the nod, and hoped she was ready for what was about to occur.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Uncertainty bubbled in Twilight’s stomach as she led her friends away from Fleur’s room and to the royal viewing balcony. There had to have been more that she could have done to prevent the duel or to help Fleur. If only there had been more time to test Altanairis.

The name rankled a bit, pulled from the air at the final moment. It fit but felt clunky and not really all that appropriate. Now that it had a name, better options kept jumping from the depths of her subconscious. Or, perhaps they were whispers from her stars? Unlikely, as they were all asleep.

A particularly strong prayer hit Twilight mid-stride, causing her to stagger just a little. She caught, “Shield me,” before reinforcing the mental barriers that kept the prayers segregated, and the prayers faded back down to a slight hum. The voice had seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place from where. Not any of her friends or family, and the accent didn’t fit anypony from Ponyville she knew.

Before she could fully puzzle through this new distraction, she found her way blocked by Iridia, Faust a little behind her sister. Worry writ large on her face, Iridia darted glances towards the side passages and back at her sister. Faust gestured for Iridia to continue. Stepping up to Twilight, Iridia cleared her throat.

“Twilight, there is something I must tell you.”

Stifling a grimace, an impatient groan lodged in the back of Twilight’s throat. “Can it wait? Everypony is waiting for us so the ‘festivities’ can begin.” Twilight did little to hide her opinions on the barbaric dueling ritual she’d been trying to avoid contemplating.

“It won’t begin without us,” Iridia replied, eyes flickering to Twilight’s friends. “This is something for you alone.”

“Anything you got to say to Twi, you can say around us,” Applejack snorted, and received a bump and head shake from Fluttershy, though whether it was the sentiment or timing she objected was unclear. Rainbow and Pinkie both aligned with Applejack, and muttered agreements echoed by Twilight.

“Make this quick, please.” Twilight shifted on her hooves, and straightened out a rumple in the sash of her dress.

Iridia made a soft noise of understanding, only to then grow silent. Struggling with something, she opened her mouth a few times, then slowly closed it again with an annoyed snort.

Finally, as Twilight’s impatience again mounted, Iridia said, “I lied to you, at the Galla of the Stars.”

Blinking at the sudden admission, Twilight tried to recall everything that Iridia had said that night. It was long enough ago that much of it was an indistinct blur.

“You asked about your father, and I told you he was dead,” Iridia clarified, unable to pry her gaze from the floor. “I knew it was wrong, but the words just came out. I was jealous and afraid and I wanted you to myself, if only for a short while. When you asked about him, I thought you would go running off and—no, please, let me finish.”

Twilight snapped her mouth shut, cutting off partially formed words. On either side of her, Rainbow and Applejack both vibrated with barely restrained anger, flashing eyes darting from Twilight to Iridia and back. Twilight tapped an impatient hoof, willing Iridia to finish quicker.

Wilting like a desert flower, Iridia shivered, and for a moment Twilight thought she might try to run away. Settling herself with a deep breath, Iridia raised her head to look Twilight in the eye. “I won’t give any excuses that what I did was justified. It was wrong of me to keep you from knowing your father.”

“Darn straight it was!” Applejack snapped, unable to hold herself back any longer.

On her other side, Rainbow chimed in, but Twilight missed what was said, a dull roar entering her ears like wind rushing through a canyon blotting out everything else. She rocked back on her hooves, eyes pinched tight as she fought to control suddenly still emotions as her heart beat harder and harder as if it was trying to escape her chest.

“I bet you kept her secret from him, too,” Rainbow snorted with contempt.

Wings bristling defensively, Iridia snapped, “He knew about Twilight! Quite well, as a matter of fact.” There was an odd hesitancy, a slight hitch to Iridia’s voice that made Twilight’s chest hurt. “After each of my visits to Sparkledale I confided in him, told him all about you. The time you were into entomology and had jars and jars of all sorts of bugs. Or, when you were telling everypony you were going to join the Royal Guard so you could stay near Shining. And, when you were made Celestia’s apprentice. He heard it all, and was so, so proud.”

Twilight’s heart beat faster and faster the more Iridia spoke, and when a lull finally appeared she asked, “Why are you using the past tense?”

Iridia stepped closer, and Twilight saw sorrow etched along the hard lines of her face. “He… died not long ago. During the eclipse. He laid down his life protecting his herd, and the foals of a village they’d encountered. He… I think you’d have been proud.”

Noise exploded around Twilight, a storm of yelling, threats, and stamped hooves swirling around her too calm center. Twilight nodded slightly, having already anticipated Iridia’s answer. Why else would the subject even have been brokered, unless to produce her wayward biological father then and there.

It wasn’t Iridia’s admitted lies and groping attempts at forgiveness that bothered Twilight. No, it was Leviathan’s cold laughter sounding in the depths of recent memories. Her taunting smile flashed before Twilight, so haughty and arrogant, knowing what was to come. Predicting, perhaps, this very encounter, or one similar at least.

“‘Within which mirror will a pony you love die first’.”

The words fell from Twilight unbidden.

Around her the storm grew louder and then quiet as she parsed through the wild emotions buffeting her. Rage. Pain. Betrayal. Failure. They constricted her heart in crushing coils. Her body shook with the effort of containing her feelings, of holding herself back from saying or doing something she’d regret.

It wasn’t the loss of a pony she’d never known. It wasn’t the lies of somepony who should have told her the truth. It wasn’t that she could have saved him. It wasn’t that she was reminder of failing Rarity, or that Fleur was in danger now. It wasn’t that she was going to watch a duel rather than scour the disc for her friend’s missing sisters.

No, it wasn’t any one thing, but all of them heaped one atop the other.

Along the edges of perception her stars began to stir in their slumber. With a long, ragged sigh she centered herself, reminding herself that there were ponies who needed her in the here and now.

“I want you to go away,” Twilight said at last. “I want you to go back to where ever you came from, and leave me alone.”

Jaw tense, a brilliant fire flashing in her eyes, Iridia quietly said, “If that is what you wish.”

“Wish?” An odd, sardonic laugh came from Twilight through her tense throat. She couldn’t help it. “What I wish is that you’d never entered my life. That you didn’t try to shove my real parents away and take their place.”

“That is never what I wanted!”

“But it is how you acted. Moving into Canterlot Castle. Trying to insinuate yourself into my life. Pushing my parents to return to Sparkledale.”

Bristling Iridia advanced a half-step closer. “I never pushed them to leave! It was Velvet’s idea. An attempt to give us time to connect. You were the one avoiding me!”

Around Twilight, her friends pressed closer, giving her strength through their presence alone.

“I am so furious right now I can’t even think,” Twilight closed her eyes, and kept her voice level only through years of mental discipline. Inside she burned, starfire rising through her veins and igniting along the tips of mane and tail. Aether dripped in rainbow sparks from the edges of her wings.

The injustices of the past few months neared the critical point. Her patience frayed to the point of breaking, Twilight said in a far too level voice, “Just, go. Please, just go away.”

Iridia’s features contorted with anguish, lips moving in silent protests. She shrank a little, no longer the grand goddess who presided over the formation of life, but a mare broken by the realisation she’d lost her daughter again. That any chance of reconnecting had been ruined, an impassable rift carved between them by her own actions.

Part of Twilight sparked with joy at seeing Iridia miserable. That same part screamed that Iridia deserved to suffer, to hurt as she’d been hurt. It wanted so much more. Twilight was not prone to fantasies of violence, and deeply regretted every time she’d been forced to fight. Right then, Twilight really wanted to hit Iridia, to pound her until some semblance of justice and sanity returned to the disc.

She settled on merely driving Iridia away.

“I’ll be in Thornhaven if and when you want to speak,” Iridia said, her voice soft and hitching in her throat. Turning to Faust, she said, “Till we next meet, sister, look after my Twilight.”

“Oh, I am coming with you,” Faust answered surprising everypony. “There is nothing left for me to do here, and I told Celestia I’d be with you when she next needed to find me.”

There was a casual indifference to Faust that bordered on flippancy, as if she were wholly disconnected from what was going on around her. If Twilight had not been so angry, she’d have drawn a bit of comfort that Faust seemed to be slowly reverting to her old self. As it was, Faust only managed to stoke the flames of Twilight’s anger higher.

Twilight brushed past Iridia before any more could be said by either of them. A few moments later and there came the tell-tale magic and sudden loss of Iridia and Faust’s pressences hovering along the edges of perception.

Her hooves crashed against the aged stone floor, neck tight. A low growl issued through her throat as she thought of anything to do with any of her parents and mentors over the past few months. Every time she recalled one of the lies, her wings snapped out and in, sending gusts of wind along the corridor.

“I can’t believe those mares! Queens of the ponies, pah! What my Ma would say to them if she were still here,” Applejack snarled, stamping a hoof. “Faust knows where to find my sister, and does nothing. And, after losing them, Iridia is more worried about clearing her conscience than fixing the mess she made!”

“Apple Bloom will be fine,” Luna said from Applejack’s other side. “You have my personal guarantee on the matter.”

“No offense, princess, but I ain’t looking for promises or guarantees. I just want somepony to do something!” Applejack’s hoof cracked against the ground for emphasis.

“Soon as this stupid duel is done we’re going to find the girls, Applejack. I promise,” Twilight shot her friend an emphatic look.

Applejack returned it with a firm nod, and silence fell over the group.

Taking in long, slow breaths, Twilight did her best to find a happy place from which to attack the tumultuous rage writhing in her stomach. The presence of her friends helped, Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, and Rainbow providing anchors with which she could ride the surging hot tide. It was Luna, however, who trotted beside her, and provided a silent harbour into which Twilight could retreat.

Nothing more could be said to provide comfort. Twilight’s friends and family all knew that she needed time to process the grief over stolen opportunities and broken trust.

Her anger had barely abated when she met Maatsheptra in the corridor on the way to the imperial box.

“Princess Twilight, is something amiss?” Maatsheptra asked, concern inflecting her voice.

With a quick shake of her head, Twilight said, “It is nothing important. Just…” Twilight shook her head again, and fell in beside Maatsheptra.

“I’m glad I found you before the ceremonies commenced,” Maatsheptra said, brushing past whatever was upsetting Twilight. Grateful that she didn’t have to explain things, Twilight listened with a half-cocked ear. “You should prepare yourselves. All of you. Things have changed in Zebrica, and these duels will be nothing like you have seen in Equestria. Many who enter that arena die.”

“Wait, I thought this was until First Blood,” Rainbow interjected, shifting nerviously from hoof to hoof.

“‘First Blood’?” Maatsheptra answered with a quizzical lift to her brows. “Ah, yes, you assumed we retained the weak ways of the Mara. No, these duels are until Last Blood, so only those who truly are wronged, justified, or brave will dare enter these grounds.”

Jolted a little by the frank admission, Twilight worked her mouth, while Applejack asked, “What, you really fight to the death? That’s barbaric!”

“It is our way, Lady Apple. The way of the Shali. The way of my clan. I killed a dozen of my kin in such duels before I found my soulmark. The strong thrive while the weak perish. When you are surrounded by enemies who want to conquer you, throw you in chains, tear your foals from your hooves, or just devour you, there is little other choice but to rise to the challenges, or die. The Zebenese and the Shali have this much in common, at least, even if we disagree on everything else. The Mara were coddled in their cities, and grew fat off the rivers’ bounties, and that is why I was able to conquer them and unify Zebrica.”

“But—”

Applejack was cut off by Luna’s extended wing. “My sister will be disappointed to learn her fears that Zebrica has fallen back into its old habits were justified. She held hope you’d continued the peaceful ways your ancestors fought to achieve. This entire episode with Fleur and Algol has already left a sour taste in our mouth. This compounds matters.”

Bowing a little to Luna, Maatsheptra said, “That is your prerogative, Princess Luna, and if Equestria wishes no further dealings with Zebrica I will understand. There are many other nations with which to trade, after all. Equestria is not the only bread-basket. I will have no need of your exported gemstones soon enough. As in the early dawn of my empire, it grows day by day. But, I do have something else to say before we part ways.” Maatsheptra stopped before the grand doors to her box and faced Twilight and Luna.

“I lured you to Zebrica with a promise of information on the location of the final alicorn to arrive during the Celebration of Life. She landed in the domain of the griffons, and was promptly claimed by one of their kings. A filly of no more than two springs, she quickly became an idol around which he rallied his city and set his sights on his rivals. They gave her the name Talona, and parade her through the streets and court. I wish that was the worst of my information. The city that claimed her, Southstone Spires, has been host to the demon-lord Amon for many centuries.”

Luna sucked in a hissed breath. “That monster has more lives than a cat.”

“But, I beat him on Marelantis!” Rainbow Dash protested, brow furrowed into tight bunches. “Kicked his flank with that spear of Fleur’s.”

“Demons are known for being slippery, Lady Dash,” Maatsheptra replied. “What I know is that through the griffons he has been grooming Talona for his own purposes. Southstone is the heart of his power. Every attempt to march on the airie has met destruction.”

“Then we will go and destroy that demon once and for all.” Luna made a cutting gesture and scuffed at the ground with a hoof.

“Why wait so long to tell us?” Twilight asked.

Maatsheptra smiled. “Reasons are unimportant. You have been told now, and I have fulfilled my promise.”

Head lowered in thought, Twilight followed Maatsheptra into the Empress’ box. More a wide platform stretching out and over the arena, it was afforded with the best view. Many emperors, kings, and queens had taken the box as their own over the centuries. In a half dozen alcoves, stern faced imperial guards watched over their empress, beside each a crackling ifrit.

Festive banners and awnings fluttered in the warm morning breeze. Flower petals created brightly coloured paths to the empress’ lounge and accompanying benches where she and her guests could relax in opulent splendor and observe the duels and games below.

A swarming sea of black and white thronged along the narrow walkways and seats in the rest of the grand colosseum. Food vendors moved among the crowd, offering traditional zebrican snacks of dried, chocolate covered fruits in bags. Foals laughed as they pranced around their parents and scampered into seats used by their ancestors stretching back several generations.

A clear segregation became apparent before Twilight had even taken her seat. Noble families had their boxes low and close to the arena, with comfortable benches on which to recline, and bowls of punch and fruit within easy reach. The colosseum's design and networks of passageways and stairs was such that the nobility never had to interact with the lower classes. Above them were the merchants and lower gentry. With a little space in which to relax, they occupied a rather narrow band. Much of the colosseum was given over to the lower classes. Packed together along unbroken stone benches that ran the entire circumference of the colosseum, little thought or consideration was given to their comfort. They still laughed and rejoiced as they entered, creating a great din of noise. The last area was for the poor and downtrodden at the very top where they could hardly see what was happening down in the arena. They stood, enviously watching their social superiors.

From beneath her hooves a drum sounded a moment after Twilight stepped onto the balcony. Eighty thousand faces swung towards her, and in a single voice cried out, “Amu Twilight, Wea em Stella! Amu Luna, Wea em Lunae! Amu Fluttershy, Wea em Silvarum! Amu Weorum! Amu Weorum!”

Surging tides of devotion crashed into Twilight, physical and metaphysical in nature. The energy of the crowd was infectious, and their honest prayers given in a single voice crashed against the walls of her mental fortress. A sensation of weightlessness carried her the rest of the way to her lounge and quieted much of the anger Iridia had stoked. Embers remained, glowing in the depths of her belly, and Twilight knew before long she’d have to do something to deal with emotions.

The crowd’s roars were no less fervent for their empress as she swept gracefully up to her throne with her foals in tow. The prince and princess sat together with Twilight friends, while Twilight was given a place of prominence along with Luna, Fluttershy, and Maatsheptra.

Stepping up onto a slightly raised rune inscribed marble circle, Maatsheptra summoned a spell to enhance her voice. Magic flowed in a graceful cascade down her horn, neck, and settled in over the curve of her throat. When she spoke her voice carried across the entire colosseum in a soft boom.

“My dear subjects, it is that Great Day again where we come together to settle differences and matters of Pride and Honour beneath the gaze of the Sun and the eyes of the Goddesses. No truer has this been than today, blessed as we are by the presence of three of the alicorns,” here Maatsheptra had to pause as the crowd again roared out their greetings and exaltations.

Waiting for the noise to fade with a motherly patience, Maatsheptra continued, “As has been custom since the days before Samalla brought freedom to the three tribes of zebra, casting off the chains the loathsome griffons had shackled to our ancestors, the first day of each month is set aside so that we may resolve our differences that we may be cleansed and refreshed. That Shali, Mali, and Zebenese may work together towards common goals with no ill will and resentment clouding our hearts.”

Again she had to pause as the crowd’s enthusiasm peaked. She smiled sweetly, and motioned for her subjects to calm.

“Without further delay I declare the commencement of these duels. And afterwards, a play detailing the exploits of Samalla for our guests, followed by games of endurance and speed.”

A half-breath after Maatsheptra took her seat, the first set of duelists were called forth, and Twilight was confronted by the harsh depths of the differences between Equestrians and Zebricans. The pair bowed and saluted their empress, the alicorns, and after giving short speeches where-in they listed their grievances with the other, the slights to honour that could not otherwise be reconciled, they proceeded to savage each other.

There was no preamble once Maatsheptra gave the signal for the duel to commence. The zebras charged and tore long lines down each other’s sides. Twilight covered her mouth, shocked by the viciousness of the pair. She felt some small comfort that the duel should have been concluded so quickly, that surely one or the other would quit. To her shock, they spun and charged again, this time crashing together. The crowd roared its approval, hooves stamping in a thunderous cacophony as one zebra fell, and was soundly struck in the jaw.

Aghast, Twilight issued a growl through clenched teeth. “This is monstrous! How can they enjoy this!?”

“Because it is better than the alternative.” Maatsheptra answered with a quizzical lift to her brows. “You have seen my city only as it is today, and not of years past, and so assume that pony and zebra are the same. We are more alike than different, but those differences carve a canyon between the hearts of our races. Unlike Equestria, chaos and upheaval lurk ever in the shadows. Were it not for my rule, even in this peaceful and bountiful age, villages would put to the torch because their stripes are the wrong shades or shape. Because a Mara princess dared to fall in love with a Shali warrior. Or, because a tribe weak a hundred years ago is now strong, and are simply able to hurt those that oppressed them in ages past. Or, foals would starve as their mothers were dragged to a gallows for ‘stealing’ grain cast to the side of the road following a harvest.

“Only here, on these blood stained sands, is there an anchorpoint of stability. Here they may kick, froth, bleed, and be reborn in honourable combat. These games keep greater calamities at bay. Look how they bind my subjects to common purpose.”

Cheers greeted the victor as he took a slow parade around the edge of the arena, flowers tossed down in his path as if he’d been an actor in a grand play.

Dread, horror, and pity all welled up deep in Twilight’s chest, and alongside her anger, left her dazed and confused as to what, if anything, she should do. On the other side of the empress Luna leaned forward, eyes ablaze with keen intensity and lips moving with silent urgings. She missed nothing, and even swayed as if trying to dodge blows herself, and nodded in satisfaction at the conclusion of each duel as she joined in with the applause. In contrast, Fluttershy was quiet with hooves folded in front of her and a curious tilt to her head.

“Fluttershy, if you need to leave,” Twilight began, the offer hanging in the air.

Looking over with a start, Fluttershy shook her head. “Oh, I am quite fine. At least, I think I am. I’ve seen much worse. I mean, Artemis saw much worse.”

She seemed about to add more, but, growing flustered, simply shook her head and focused back on the arena as the next set of duelists emerged.

The next duelists were young, barely more than foals, and fighting over the affections of a mare both loved. Former friends, they mercilessly faced each other, neither holding back as they fought. On and on it went, zebras came forth, saluted, and gave their speeches. Some denounced their opponents. Some tried to make amends. A few pleaded with the empress or crowd. This third group universally received jeers and Maatsheptra’s stony stare. All ended the same way, with one party victorious, and the other placed on a stretcher.

“We are not completely heartless, Princess Twilight,” Maatsheptra said after the third match ended with both sides unable to continue, to the disappointment of the crowd. “This colosseum has the finest medical facilities in Zebrica, with some of the most talented healers in my empire. Few die once in their care.”

“But how many are killed down there?” Twilight demanded, thrusting a hoof towards the arena floor.

“A few,” Maatsheptra callously admitted.

Bristling, Twilight began to snap a response, but was interrupted by the next duel. She bit her tongue for the remainder of the horrific event, until it was time for the final duel. Any budding affections or desire to spend a moment longer than necessary in Zebrica were permanently extinguished.

Twilight squirmed as Fleur emerged from the dark recesses of the colosseum.

As the challenger, Algol spoke first, her oily words coursing through the arena.

“By the Star’s blessings,” she began, her voice powerful and unironic. The crowd repeated the greeting, a first for Twilight, and she was hit by a small wave of devotion. “I have been wronged, and she who wronged me is too cowardly to face me herself. Important, powerful, arrogant ponies wheedled and whinged, oily green and putrid yellows, to keep her from Justice. They latched like ticks onto any excuse, trying in vain to damage me without retribution. When they could not, when I refused to be thinly spread yellow and accept Equestria’s slight, instead they heaped further dishonour by enticing this mare who has never fought in her life to take the place of Rainbow Dash. A mare they deck out in finery and artifacts, giving her every advantage they can scrape together.

“I am Algol, the Dreamstar, and I am Algol, the Demonstar; and I refuse to quietly accept Equestria’s provocations and brilliant obsidian-red arrogance.”

Algol played her speech to the crowd, but Twilight knew it was intended for her. Her hackles rose. The claims of justice and injustice being so twisted stoking the great rage in her belly. She shook, she trembled, and she glared fire at the fallen star. Whatever part of her Algol formed, or had been formed by, she despised.

So angry was she that she missed the opening to Fleur’s impassioned speech.

“It is neither for Equestria, nor for Prance I fight, but for my friend, and for myself. I am no fighter. Algol is a killer, and I have been told it is impossible for me to win. But, I will fight for my friend. Rainbow Dash saved my life, and though it may be the stuff of romanticised stories, I will repay the debt owed.”

Applause rose from the crowd, a smattering at first, and then increasing to a thunderous din as it became apparent Fleur was finished. Even Maatsheptra stamped a hoof, a first for the duels.

“Fleur de Lis is very brave, and stoic in the face of cruel fate. This we zebras can appreciate,” she said, her voice rough against Twilight’s skin.

There was no time for contemplation, as Fleur and Algol faced each other.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The duel began with the thunderous clang and searing flash of a lightning bolt. Ozone curled around Fleur, and she stifled a cough. The ground before her was scorched deep black, edges glowing red, and turned into a smooth glass.

Fleur hadn’t even seen Algol cast the spell it had been completed so quick. She’d never seen such spellcraft, nor dared imagine having to face such a practitioner. All her worst fears about Algol were realised and exceeded, and Fleur knew she had almost no hope of victory, or survival in that instant.

Algol planted her hooves wide, and spread her great wings as she summoned her dark magics. Cupped in her wings, she molded emerald-black aether into cutting blades. With a long, rolling motion Algol hurled pure aether. Howling like banshees, they sliced towards Fleur’s throat and legs.

Quick stepping like she were in a ballroom dance, Fleur darted out of the path of the first blade and blocked the second with her shield. Sharp clangs rang from each blow, jolts echoing through Fleur’s aura down her horn and into her teeth. Each felt like a giant had tried to step on her. Only her short fight with Amon could compare with the strength behind the attacks.

The pace of slashes quickly overwhelmed Fleur’s meagre defense. Her valiant attempts were in vain as a series of aethereal blades curved around her shield. Bracing herself, Fleur was unprepared when one-by-one the blades met a thin barrier covering her body, harmlessly bursting into showers of rainbow hued sparks.

Seeing her chance, Fleur rushed to close the already short distance. Her only hope was a quick stroke. Her spear thrust for Algol’s bared breast, silvery head glinting in the crisp noon sunlight. A hoof’s width from piercing Algol, the spear met unyielding resistance. The haft shifted and snapped, and the steel head bent before being flung to the far side of the arena.

Jumping back, Fleur barely flung up her shield in time to catch a black spear of foul, necromantic energies. Death tingled on her tongue and in her horn, leaching through the air and where her aura met Algol’s destructive spell, leaving her numb. The shield began to rot in her grasp, metal turning to rust before her eyes.

With a Prench oath, Fleur threw the shield’s remains at Algol. They were swatted aside with a wing. Algol directed her next spell into the ground, oily grey aether leaching into the dirt.

Fleur snorted, gaze darting around to find the next attack.

Sinuous, barbed tentacles tore up from the ground, green, viscous slime running down pitch black trunks. Surrounded, Fleur hesitated on which way to run. Before she could decide, she was grabbed around the back legs and yanked backwards off her hooves. Her chin struck a stone, teeth painfully crashing together and stars blooming in front of her eyes.

Dazed, Fleur only dimly noticed she was being hoisted into the air, additional tentacles wrapping around her waist, forelegs, and throat. Her eyes bulged, legs straining as she was pulled in opposing directions. She couldn’t breath. The edges of her vision dimming into a hazy fog. Joints popping, Fleur knew she was going to die. She didn’t have the strength of magic or body to fight the tentacles. She couldn’t think. Didn’t know what to do.

So many regrets flitted through her air starved mind. Not being able to say goodbye to Rarity. Losing Athena. Coming on this foolhardy adventure. The argument she’d had with her father the night he died. Never having a foal…

Her last thought before the darkness fully closed around her was of Fancy Pants, and what he’d do when he learned of her death.

And then she was falling.

Physically falling, and hitting the ground with a heavy thud on her side. Sucking in ragged gasps of air. Vision clearing to reveal Algol staring at her in shock and fury.

Slowly, Fleur became aware of a brilliant glow about her head, a luminous halo of singing rainbow hued aether emanating from Altanairis. Her joints popped again as they were forced, painfully, back in place. Clenching her jaw to hold back a scream, she dragged herself to her hooves. The torn, ragged remnants of Algol’s tentacles squirmed as they melted into thick pools of bubbling ichor.

The crowd roared with thunderous approval. Chants of ‘Fleur, Fleur, Fleur,’ born from a hundred thousand throats filled every space and rolled out over the city.

Every fibre of Fleur’s being ached. She’d only survived by Twilight’s gift. She wasn’t even sure why it had waited so long to save her from the tentacles, or if it would do so a second time.

Licking her lips, Algol purred, “Not so easy after-all. There is a bit of crimson and hardened silver in you.”

The air began to tremble as Algol again called on her considerable powers. Excess aether howled from her wings, scorching the ground and sizzling the ends of Fleur’s mane. Higher and higher the storming aether climbed until it was like a cresting tidal wave. It loomed as a dragon over a mouse, titanic, unstoppable, a force of unleashed nature. Deadly emerald light crackled across turbulent edges, and the air grew frigid as a violent wind whipped across the arena.

Around them, the crowd was going wild.

“Can that crown save you if your very essence is consumed, I wonder?” Algol shouted over the noise.

With a gesture, Algol sent the wave forward.

Fleur gaped, and felt so very small. She could not dodge the oncoming deadly magics. Over or through, those were her only options. Indecision held her fast, bound her to the spot unable to move.

Algol’s spell loomed over her, a deep roar emanating from its obsidian depths.

Wisps of Fleur’s lifeforce tumbled into the black wave.

This time Altanairis would not save her.

Instinct took hold, and Fleur spun on her back hooves. Across the arena she sped, foul energies kissing the tip of her tail and turning it to dust. Angling her retreat, Fleur ducked behind one of the pillars. With a hissing crackle-roar the wave broke against the pillar and was split. Thick globs of twisted magic splashed on Fleur’s flanks and exposed portions of her legs. Pain lashed through her already tired body, fur burnt away and skin scalded as if the wave was composed of boiling oil.

Falling to her knees, Fleur reached out to the weapon racks and grabbed several spears, and a barbed net.

Jumping out from behind the pillar after the wilting wave dissipated, Fleur hurled a spear. Her aim, haphazard in its execution, proved true, and the spear fell towards Algol. Steel glinted brilliantly as it cut a line along Algol’s jaw, and tore across her shoulder. Algol blinked, stunned, and glanced at the shallow line and red blood flowing through her dark coat.

Fleur was no less surprised after her earlier failure. Unsure why her first spear had been repelled, and not this one, Fleur hurled the next spear as she charged to get close enough to use the net.

Algol remained calm, using her wings to dart back even as she returned to using her initial blades of sculpted aether. Altanairis spent, and her shield destroyed, Fleur resorted to blocking with the haft of a spear. Two blades cut through hardened wood, and another glanced off Fleur’s cuirass.

Serenity fell across Fleur as she crossed the arena, unleashing another distracting spear. Algol coated her wings in tight layers of aether, and crouched to meet Fleur’s charge. This was it, the final moment of the duel. Either she’d succeed, or Algol would cut her down. The crowd thundered, wild exultations filling her with reckless energy even as her mind calmed into absolute focus.

Clarity came over Fleur.

Time slowed.

The disc, the power plays of the great nations, the burdens of everyday ponies and zebras, and the duel all came into sharp relief. Fleur could see Algol’s movements, how she would aim with bladelike wings for her throat. See the very nature of Algol’s magic, aether molded into an efficient weapon of death. Whispers transcending instincts told her when to duck so Algol’s lethal stroke would miss and cause her enemy to unbalance. How Algol would recover and bring up her other wing in a slash that all but the most proficient would fail to see until it was too late. The path her spear needed to take, and when to release it so Algol’s defensive wards, tuned to react to a unicorn’s aura, would fail to respond.

A few strides away from Algol, Fleur noticed hundreds of shadowy shapes circling above the colosseum on broad wings. Fleur skidded to a stop, and Algol snapped her wings shut, banishing her magic with a casual disinterest.

“You see them now, don’t you,” Algol purred, glancing upwards.

Fleur worked her mouth slowly, dread of a new sort twisting in her gut. She tried to give a warning, to shout for everypony to get away, but it was too late.

In a swirling, invisible cloud, the Thanes descended on Zerubaba.

Author's Note

Sorry for the little longer than usual delay, life has kept me busy in things other than writing the last little while. It has been getting harder to sit down and work lately. I hope the chapter was worth the build-up and delay.

The crowd's chant is latin based with slight modifications. Translates as, "Hail Twilight, Goddess of the Stars! Hail Luna, Goddess of the Moon! Hail Fluttershy, Goddess of the Forests! Hail the Gods! Hail the Gods!"

Added some asterisks and tildes the the breaks between sections. Hopefully that helps the people who have problems with the artwork used showing up. Not my favourite solution. However, it's all I could come up with.

Book Two: Chapter Sixteen: The Lord of the Dead

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duty and Dreams
Chapter Sixteen: The Lord of the Dead

Twilight watched the duel with unseeing eyes. She’d hated duels since she’d been a filly.

Just as the duel began, the prayer scratching along the edges of her awareness grew to a fevered pitch. Torn between the duel and the prayer, Twilight focused on the latter for a few moments. Lowering her mental defenses, she at last placed the voice that had been nattering along the edge of perception since she’d stepped into the carriage as little Ophelia Navigator.

Curious as to why the midshipmare was being so persistent in her prayers, Twilight cast her mental eye far from the dry city, the ancient colosseum, and the horrid duel. Essence remaining firmly affixed to her body, it was Twilight’s vision alone that roamed out over the ocean. It was only a short distance, in the scope of the disc, to the Bellerophon. In the north, Zebrica could still be made out, a hazy shape in the miasmic horizon.

The Bellerophon plunged through a moderate swell, running under staysails in a fair northerly wind, her sides wreathed in curling smoke. At first, Twilight assumed they were practicing with their great guns again and half-turned to return to Zerubaba. Her assumption vanished in the flashing lights of the Bellerophon’s protective wards. Iron shot slammed into magical barriers already cracking under the strain of repeated barrages. Shards broke away leaving glittering trails like the tails of streaking stars. A few rounds found their way through the gaps, smashing into the ancient hull. Deadly oak splinters tore with brutal ease through rigging, canvas, and flesh alike. Landing in the ship’s waist, one ball careened through a group of seamares killing one outright, and maiming two more.

Orders flew in a thick flury across the deck in the shocking stillness that followed, punctuated by only a few spells from the Bellerophon’s marines up in the tops. From there they cast telekinetic stones in mimicry of the great guns. The Bellerophon’s cannons raged in a rolling thunder of belching fire and acrid smoke.

Spinning around, Twilight followed the cannons’ trajectory. Two hundreds yards away, the Princess Platinum shrugged off the barrage, circular golden barriers springing up to nullify the incoming fire. Only a single ball found a gap, bouncing off a wave and into a gun-port, unseating the cannon on the other side. Beneath white mountains of canvas, the Hackney First-Rate held the weathergage with a firm grip, yawing to bring her larboard cannons to bear and respond shot-for-shot. As the much larger ship brought her head about, Ophelia’s prayers came stronger than before.

Down among her gun-crew, the filly held a small metal replica of Twilight’s cutie-mark. She urged on mares three or four times her age to reload the guns faster and faster. Worming, spunging, powder, cannon ball, and wadding all done in the sweltering half-light. Covered in sweaty foam, the mares worked with drilled precision.

‘Protect us, Princess Twilight,’ Ophelia silently cried. Not just Ophelia, but near every mare and stallion on the Bellerophon entreated her for protection.

Twilight bit her lower lip, heart beating faster and faster of the enormity of what was unfolding before her became apparent. Hackney was attacking Equestria. Ponies were about to die. This was no simple monster getting loose from the Everfree Forest. As with the duel she was trying to avoid, a spectacle of pointless brutality was laid bare before her.

A thumping crash and heavy ringing booms brought Twilight out of her momentary shock.

Ophelia’s prayers reached a sharper tenor.

The young mare, truthfully still a filly, lay sprawled on her back in a spreading crimson pool. An oak sliver long as her leg was thrust through her left foreleg, blood bubbling in a thick flow.

Twilight’s heart stopped, that moment crystalizing in her memory.

Surprise. Terror. Pain. Ophelia’s face contorted as she stared at the razor sharp wood sticking from her.

“Miss Pin, take Miss Navigator below!” Roared Poetic Verse, the second lieutenant appearing to take Ophelia’s place at the gun. “Come on girls, we’ll show these Hackney asses that they picked the wrong fight! For Princess Twilight!”

In the same moment she called Twilight’s name, the second lieutenant lit the slow-match, and the cannon snapped back beneath the mare’s arching body as it belched fire and death.

Thin bands of power flitted across Twilight as the prayers mounted.

Insignificant, in the scope of her own normal reserves or those available in her stars, Twilight would have failed to even notice the relatively small amounts of aether. A tiny part of her wanted to stop and examine the aether or nature of prayers.

If only she’d the time.

Urgency bubbled in her stomach, mixing with the horror of the battle and self-loathing at her hesitation causing ponies to be hurt.

Mentally bracing, Twilight took the prayers coming from the Bellerophon, and used them to shape the ocean surface. Her being strained at first, the ocean itself fighting against her, rejecting her intrusion.

Another volley from the Princess Platinum frayed her nerves.

Clinical detachment impossible, Twilight could feel her grasp over the magic slip.

Twilight borrowed little strands of stray aether floating off her sleeping stars, mindling the minute reality altering filaments among her own, prodigious, magic. While nowhere near as concentrated or potent as the great bands of energy cast from Sirius during her fall, there was more than enough to conjure a thick, expansive bank of fog. A fog so thick a pony could barely see their own hooves.

Within moments both ships were engulfed, ponies on their decks staring about in amazement.

Cannons and spellwork petered out, and then stopped entirely.

“This is the work of Princess Twilight. The aura in this fog is unmistakable,” noted Fighting Spirit, the first lieutenant coming up to her captain. “Orders, sir?”

“Well, let us not waste this good fortune, eh,” Hardy didn’t grin, still deep in the calculating fury needed for battle. “Keep the mares at their stations and pass the word for silence. Stay the course for an hour, then put us South-South-East. We may still make it out of this, afterall.”

The tenor of the prayers changing into thanks rather than desperation or grim resolve. Her own spirits were still confused, heart beating as if she’d been in the thick of the action herself. Ophelia still lived, that little Twilight could sense. For how long with such a wound, Twilight avoided contemplating, and put her trust in the good doctor. He’d see to the wounded.

She hovered over the ships as they slowly grew apart, the Princess Platinum tacking to head back to Zerubaba.

Twilight closed her mind’s eye on the Bellerophon, and opened her real eyes in time to witness Fleur’s heroic charge.

Rainbow was on the edge of her seat, Applejack’s hoof clamped on her tail to keep her from flying down into the arena since the start.

“Come on Fleur, you got this!” Rainbow yelled at the top of her lungs, wings almost buzzing as they lifted her off her seat.

Fleur dashed across the arena, fearless and bold. Emotions still in a state of flux, Twilight wanted to look away, but found herself instantly rapt, unable to pry her gaze from what unfolded. If she had, she would have missed the silvery-blue glow that filled Fleur’s determined eyes.

Luna and Twilight both leaned closer, and Fluttershy gasped behind a raised hoof.

Divine presence flowed from Fleur, lapping against Twilight like waves upon the shores of a disturbed pond. Unmistakable in nature, but weak and faded. Were she any less focused on Fleur, it would have been easy to dismiss as her imagination.

Twilight pinched her brows together when Fleur skidded to a stop just a short distance from Algol.

“Hey, why did she stop!?” Rainbow demanded, thumping a hoof on her chair. “She was about to win!”

A flutter of movement, and a cold breeze tickled across the tips of Twilight’s ears. Turning, Twilight saw a thane appear on the balcony next to Princess Hattmettren. Caught up in the duel, Twilight only realised the spirits nature in the moment he reached out a wing, and with a gentle touch drew Hattmettren’s soul from her body. With a soft sigh the zebrican princess fell forward, caught at the last moment by Twilight’s magic before she could strike the ground.

Her shock had barely faded before she spotted more and more thanes emerging from the Winterlands, an entire procession landing amongst the crowd of zebras. Scattered confusion, already spreading at the sudden halting of the duel just as it was culminating, broke into a smattering of plaintive yells. A landslide of fear broke through the crowd, voices that had been excited now raised in terror.

Leaping off her gilded coach, Maatsheptra grabbed her daughter from Twilight’s aura. “Hattmettren? Speak to me, my little flower! What has happened to her?” She demanded, turning a furious gaze at Twilight.

“It was not her,” Luna said, already on her hooves, magic alighting along her horn. A silvery light cascaded across the colosseum, illuminating every thane it touched. Renewed shrieks filled the colosseum, zebras stampeding to escape from the swooping black forms. Emotionlessly, they set among the mortals, snatching the souls from fillies seemingly at random.

Maatsheptra held her limp daughter close, pressing her to her chest and staring daggers at the thanes.

The thane with Hattmettren’s soul remained on the balcony, watching the empress with a pitying gaze. He continued to hold Hattmettren’s ghostly soul tight as he faced the goddesses. Next to him, the ghostly princess gazed around in fear. She tried to speak, but no words came forth. Her hooves reached out to her mother, and passed through Maatsheptra like smoke. Laying his wing across Hattmettren’s withers, he shook his head and began to guide her away.

“Stop!” Fluttershy’s command resonated across the arena, Power laced through the simple word.

Halting, the thane turned back and regarded Fluttershy with pity, and embarrassment. His form grew more solid, until the alert guards and empress gasped, staring in wonderment at his materialization. Ignoring the spears leveled at him, the thane gave a little bow to the alicorns.

“We take no pleasure in this task, great ones,” he said sadly. “Lord Hades has commanded we take as hostage every firstborn daughter until such time as His has been returned.”

“Father has done this?” Fluttershy rocked back on her hooves, hoof flying up to cover her mouth. “But, I am fine! He doesn’t need to attack the mortals! You are a thane. You are meant to guide the mortals, not steal them!”

Shaking his head, the thane responded, “We are those honour-bound to Hades, and are unable to refuse his commands. By His will every first born daughter of Astraea’s faithful are to be taken until such time as you are returned to Him.”

“That is horrible!” Applejack growled, half interposing herself between the thane and Fluttershy. “What kind of monster goes after foals?”

“T-This is my fault!” Fluttershy choked, tension running through her jaw. “I should have known he’d do something like this. He was so angry at Twilight when he thought her the cause of me choosing Fluttershy over Artemis.”

Twilight’s brow quirked upwards, but there was no time to follow-up. They needed to stop the thanes first. Twilight’s eyes connected with Fluttershy, both reaching the same conclusion. While Twilight began to wrack her memory, and touch her stars, in search of a way of driving away the thanes, Fluttershy charged a spell.

“Luna, I need your help,” Fluttershy barked, setting her hooves as an ethereal emerald dome grew from the tip of her horn. “Keep the thanes anchored on the disc with your light.”

Slowly, then quicker and quicker, the dome expanded to encompass the colosseum, and then the entire city. The thane holding Hattmettren grunted, pushed back across the royal balcony by the spell. Gritting his teeth, he lowered himself, much like he was having to force his way through a violent wind. Caught off-guard, the other thanes were cast away, repelled by the magic Fluttershy and Luna spun.

Turning his sad gaze to Twilight, the thane shouted, “Return what you stole from Him, Astraea. Return Artemis, and He will return to the mortals their daughters. He awaits you in Southstone Spires.”

With this the thane cut a gash into the Winterlands with a wing, and vanished with his hostage. Overhead, his brethren circled the dome like wolves around the edges of light cast by a bonfire.

The calm center of a swirling storm, Twilight knew she had to act, that she would act. It was only a matter as to how.

Her gaze dipped for the briefest of instants to the arena grounds where Fleur and Algol stood a few lengths apart. She could have prevented the duel so easily. Twilight berated herself for allowing it to go ahead, for allowing herself to accept the political and tradition based arguments for allowing it to proceed.

Images of Southern Prance, of the destruction caused in the fight between Faust and Zeus, flared briefly. A mountain shattered, homes and towns destroyed, forests turned to ash, and a canyon carved through the heart of once verdant lands. Even were Rarity alive, and the Elements of Harmony an option, Twilight balked at the idea of bringing her friends into a fight with a Gaean alicorn. Fluttershy was protecting this city, eyes closed tight as she weaved the spell to keep the thanes at bay. Rainbow and Applejack would be angry with her, but they’d be safer with Fluttershy and Luna.

Prayers, thousands of them, cascaded about her, rising from the hearts of zebras throughout the city. They begged, they pleaded, they demanded her protection.

Just as the Bellerophon’s had moments before.

Fresh memories of Ophelia being carried to the orlop crashed over Twilight.

‘Princess Twilight,’ thousands cried in discordant unison. ‘Hear our pleas, save our daughters. Protect them.’

It fell into place, like she’d reached the eye of the storm. Epiphany struck, a strong sense of what she must do flowing through her. On Marelantis she’d refused to act. Because of her inaction ponies had suffered. Had died. This time she refused to stay on the sidelines while Her Little Ponies suffered.

Twilight leapt skyward, Luna and her friends calling for her to wait. Confidence and purpose carried her higher and higher. Here was a problem she could resolve. A great evil had arisen, and she would meet it head on. Channeling magic through her wings, Twilight boomed across the afternoon sky. She’d never flown so fast, never dared to dream it possible. Behind her Rainbow Dash followed, a trail of rainbow light in her wake as she tried to catch up. Whispering that she was sorry, Twilight accelerated away, and within moments Rainbow had vanished in the floating haze of the horizon.

Beneath her Zebrica sped along faster and faster. Hills undulated, verdant fields turned into golden grasslands, dotted here and there by lonely trees and copses. Towns, with thick pale walls, hugged the rivers and streams, while villages clustered around watering holes.

Her heart reached out to every town and village she passed. She had to protect them. She had to shelter them. Keep them safe. She could keep them safe. She was the most powerful pony.

If only she acted.

An army, vast and snaking through the savanna, appeared beneath her. A zebrican army, from the striped coats and plumed helmets. They gazed up at her as she streaked overhead, and many sent her prayers, seeking her protection in the wars they fought.

Twilight snorted in contempt.

There was no need for armies, or war.

Not anymore.

Southstone came into view, the mountain shadowed by thick, foreboding clouds. Malevolence and hatred permeated the air, cloying in Twilight’s coat like a pungent fog. Her breath steamed in the suddenly frigid air. There was no warmth, no life. The streets were barren, and the windows of homes dark and empty. Death hung over the city, and affirmed that what she was doing was right.

Hades glowed like a torch amongst all the emptiness, and Twilight angled her descent towards where he waited. Following the path he’d laid, the gates and doors shattered before her, and Twilight entered the former throneroom of Southstone Spires.

The God of the Dead sat on his throne, blue eyes narrowed into hateful slits, hoof idly tapping the legrest with impatience. He wore barding of a sort Twilight had never before seen. Sculpted to fit the contours of his broad chest and flanks, the armour appeared almost soft, pliable, without the sheen of metal. With grotesque understanding, Twilight saw that he wore leather; armour made from the hides of other ponies. At his side hovered a black bident, bladed spires like dancing serpents.

Twilight began one of her speeches, prepared to explain how she would stop his madness and save everypony, only for the words to falter in her throat. Beside him a familiar trio lit up with hopeful joy at seeing Twilight, and with them Talona and… Twilight could not place the other young alicorn.

All five fillies began to make noise, and all were hushed by an extended wing. Hades rose from his throne and glared down at Twilight with murderous intent.

“Where is my daughter? Where is Artemis? Return her to me, and all will be forgiven.”

“Fluttershy is in Zerubaba, keeping the city safe from you!” Twilight growled through grit teeth. She hadn’t anticipated the Cutie Mark Crusaders presence. With them next to Hades she couldn’t attack, and settled on the inevitable monologuing and taunts villains seemed to favour with shocking uniformity. She needed to draw him away from the fillies. “What kind of coward steals the souls of fillies and uses them as a shield? Of all the crazy gods I’ve faced, you are the most pathetic.”

Hades slammed his bident down, a deep, ringing boom filling the castle.“The sins of the god are visited upon her followers. It was your actions that brought this misery down on the mortals.”

Upper lip curling, Hades advanced a step.

He slowed, hesitated. Twilight smirked, a rejoinder on the strengths of Friendship already dancing on her tongue in anticipation of his counter argument. Instead he pinched his brows together and looked on her with confusion, then amusement.

“It would seem none of this matters, as Algol’s information was correct.”

It was Twilight’s turn to be confused. Behind Hades, the fillies likewise bristled, the Crusaders muttering to one another before Scootaloo shouted, “Get him, Twilight! Show him who is boss!”

Hades ignored the fillies. His features grew dispassionate, all emotion seeping away like dried leaves sloughing off a stone.

“Kneel.”

To her dismay, Twilight bent her knees. She strained against the command, muscles taught as steel cables screaming with the effort of resistance. She shook, trembling as she fought to break the compulsion. Fire flared through every muscle. The ground beneath her cracked as she battled for dominion over her own body.

“Kneel!” Hades thundered, cracking the base of his bident in a ringing clang on the floor.

Growls lodged in her throat, one of Twilight’s legs buckled. It was as if Sol and Selene rested on her withers, their great weight pressing her into the ground. Twilight clenched teeth, at war with her own body as it sought to follow Hades’ command.

This was impossible! None of the many layered barriers protecting her mind had been so much as scratched by an attempted intrusion. Her mind was still her own, yet she continued to slowly bend her knees.

Breaths came in laboured gasps.

Her wings crashed to the floor, followed by another knee.

Grinning wide, Hades strode up to Twilight and lowered his mouth to her ear. “You will go to Zerubaba. You will retrieve my daughter, regardless of whatever name she chooses to call herself, and you will bring her to me.”

“I. Refuse.” Twilight managed to snarl, having to drag the words over her tongue.

“You, my foolish Twilight, are in no position to contest my will.” Placing a hoof to Twilight’s chest, he added, “You are already dead,” and pushed.

His hoof fell into her, passing through her body like so much smoke, and Twilight stifled a sharp gasp as ice burnt through her being. He caressed the shattered chains lying about the shores of her magic, and then brushed his hoof against a deeper void. Her essence recoiled and writhed at his ethereal touch. Inside the core of her being silvery lightning crackled, attempting to repel Hades’ intrusion, only highlighting a gulf at the core of her being.

No! She refused to believe him.

It was a trick, just like Nightmare Moon or Discord had tried, or Chrysalis with Cadence.

Twilight grabbed the chains, all of them, those that were discarded and worn by time, and those that still shone and connected her to the stars. She pulled on all of them, bringing them into her.

In the high heavens, unseen to all but Sol and Selene, the sun beginning her descent towards the west and the moon newly risen in the east, the stars vanished. Twilight brought them to her, into her, filling herself with their light, much like she would for but a moment when bringing them down to the disc. Confused at first, torn from their sleep, the stars clamoured for answers in a deafening cacophony. Twilight silenced them with a thought. She was the Stars, and they were Her, and they would obey.

Her coat glowed, a brilliant shimmer that stretched from the tips of her wings across her coat. Her mane grew and deepened into an obsidian sheet without any hint of her natural lavender tones, replaced by the stars blooming with an almost blinding brilliance

Straining, Twilight battled to contain the stars, to bring them in line until they all spoke with a singular voice. Her voice. Resonating with those that belonged to her stars. She never felt so much power, so much aether coursing through her body, threatening to burn her up if she’d been anything but an alicorn. Aether leaked from her eyes, the edges of feathers, her shorn fetlocks, and even from her mane and tail.

Slowly, Twilight stood, and looked up in time to see Hades’ launch a screaming spell.

Body sluggish, Twilight was struck her in the chest, and hurtled backwards. The floor gave way beneath her, ripped asunder by the stray energies crackling from the black core of the God of the Dead’s magic. Beyond the physical, the magic ripped at her soul, shredding the edges of her essence. Twilight let out a piercing scream that tore her throat raw. She landed on the edge of a crate, wood splintering around her, and rolled till she reached a broken stone arch.

Hades descended through the hole on spread wings into the vaults beneath the castle, giving her no chance to gather herself.

Blood filled Twilight’s mouth and nose, bursting out in a long, ragged cough that glowed in a silver stream on the dusty floor. Her legs twitched, unwilling to follow her commands. Everything was numb, and the stars filling her only added to the confusion.

Hades clicked his tongue in disappointment as he landed. “Did you have any plan at all when you came here?” The words rolled sardonically from his tongue, his gaze almost pitying. “Are you that overconfident? I am the King of Tartarus. A position I have maintained for countless years against the plots and encroachments of dozens of gods. Gods in whose presence you would shrink like a timid flower.”

Raising his wings high, Hades gestured to the city beyond. “And here, in Tartarus, I am still King. I have laid my realm over this pathetic, backwaters of a world. This is why, even with all your stars, were you not half-dead inside, I would still best you. As it stands, you were never a threat, and a fight was never needed. All I have ever wanted is my daughter back. But, you have taken her. Stolen her memories. Twisted her. Confused her. Made her believe herself a mortal. A mortal!”

Cold fury poured from his ice blue eyes, and deformed his face. He lifted his bident over Twilight, blades pointed at her throat.

“Mr. Hades! No!” Screamed the unknown filly, slamming against his side with all her little weight.

It was just enough to redirect his blow, the points of his bident sinking into the stone next to Twilight. His concentration faltered, and he twisted around to stare down the filly. Rage contorted his features, made him wild and terrifying. The filly returned his stare, chin thrust forward as tears ran down her face.

“You promised me, Mr. Hades. You promised me!”

For an instant Hades’ resolve cracked, and Twilight took the opportunity presented.

She had to escape. Get away and make a plan. The veil in the chamber was thin. So thin she could almost see the Winterlands with the naked eye. Stars filling every fibre of her being, she reached out and pushed against the barrier. There was a soft, pliable resistance, and then she collapsed into the Winterlands, and then beyond.

Behind her boomed Hades’ roar of denied rage.

She fell, and fell, and fell through a twisting void.

It was nothing like riding the currents of Aether when teleporting. The void was neither cold, nor warm. There was no light, but she could see her hoof just fine. Familiarity prickled at her. She’d been here before, lost and spinning as she fell through the endless emptiness, surrounding and protecting nine precious objects.

Vague memories surfaced, like old fillyhood photos in an album. Memories that were not her own. Memories that began with flames and sorrow before stretching across a vastness impossible to count.

As in the memories, Twilight was lost.

Lost and falling.

Before her she saw a mote, like a single star. But it was not a star. All the stars were inside of her, clutching each other in terror as their mistress plummeted through the space between realms. Body aflame, Twilight angled towards the light. She knew it was her only hope. She stretched out, desperate to reach the light before it passed.

Closer and closer it came, growing until it was the size of Sol. With dread, Twilight realised that she would fail to reach it, that it would hurtle past and be gone. Primal fear instilled her wings with a burst of new strength. Desperation clawed through her. Her wings beat against the nothingness. The surface of the light cleared, and for an instant Twilight saw a maze. And then the light was bellowing past her.

At the last moment her hoof scraped the edge of the light, and stuck fast. Like sap, the light held her, and then dragged her inside. There was another moment of falling, of hitting something hard and wooden, objects scattering about her, and then Twilight was on another stone floor, staring up at a vaulted ceiling far overhead.

Exhausted, she finally let go, and drifted into fitful sleep.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

A sickening sense of dread filled Fleur the moment Twilight vanished into the horizon. It had been a lie. Coming to Zebrica, the gala, the consideration shown by the Empress, the duel; all carefully orchestrated.

Algol began to laugh. The demonstar sank to her haunches as tears of mirth streamed down her face. She leaned back, staring up at the sky, gaze lost in the wandering blue expanse. Slowly, her eyes fell to the panicking crowds, the parents trying to wake their daughters, and she laughed harder still.

“And so the bit is flipped. Which way will it land? Twisted hues of madness and the deep blues of despair? Or will she find her way to shores pink and gold? So much still to accomplish before I can rest.” With a sigh, Algol pushed herself up and turned away from Fleur.

“You truly are a demon,” Fleur spat, shaking with impotent fury.

Algol slowed, and cast a dreamy look over her shoulder. “No, I only consort with them, on occasion.”

With this Algol spread her wings and leapt skyward. For a brief moment Fleur wondered if Algol was going to chase after Twilight, but instead the former star circled the colosseum once, and then swooped low before heading off towards the Golden Palace.

Unsure what else she could do, Fleur made her way out of the arena grounds and towards the royal balcony. Along the way she discarded the tattered remnants of her armour, sloughing it off with magic as she would a dress after an exhausting gala. Altanairis alone remained, the new artifact slowly regaining its lustre as it fed on ambient magic.

Fleur worried over Algol’s plans as she hurried through the corridors. Try as she might, with so little information, all she could conclude was that Algol had more plans, and that they were aimed at hurting Princess Twilight. Beyond that, everything was unknown, from the methods of the Demonstar’s designs, to her end goal itself.

Fleur skid to a stop as she nearly collided with Pinkie Pie leading the other Elements, the empress, and a small number of guards. Fluttershy and Luna, however, were conspicuously absent.

“Pinkie, there are only three of us!” Applejack was protesting, voice a deep growl in the back of her throat, as if she was trying to chew her words. “I ain’t gotta tell you that without Twilight we got no plan.”

“Fleur!” Rainbow cried with joyous surprise, leaping over Pinkie to give Fleur a playful bump, and interrupting the flow of conversation. “That fight was crazy, huh? Reminded me of our fight with Nightmare Moon. You were pretty cool out there. Guess Princess Luna’s training paid off, huh?”

Rainbow wore a wide grin, but her eyes shone with barely constrained anger and worry. A thin sheen of sweat and dirt clung to her coat. If she were trying to distract herself, or pay Fleur a compliment, the effect was quickly broken by the procession barely slowing on their way out of the colosseum.

“Come on you two, we got bigger trees to buck now,” Applejack called as she marched away.

Shrugging, Rainbow fell in beside Applejack, Fleur quick to join them.

“What happened on the balcony?” Fleur asked, seeking to fill the gaps of her knowledge. She needed to know more before guessing at Algol’s next move.

“Princess Luna and Fluttershy put a stop to them thieves stealing any more souls,” Applejack supplied, and then detailed what the thane had said before Twilight took off to confront Hades.

Fleur’s ears folded back. Both at the cruelty of Hades, and at Algol for whatever role she’d played in the horror gripping the city. Fleur cast a suspicious glance at the empress. She was also involved, though how or why escaped Fleur.

It seemed ludicrous for anypony to consider plotting against the alicorns. Were they not the heads of state for the strongest nation, they would still be far beyond the power of any mortal queendom or empire. They had power over Day and Night, and other fundamental forces of the world. Conspiring against one of their number was foolish, and the empress struck Fleur as anything but a fool.

Yet, here they were, with Twilight gone while Luna and Fluttershy were ‘contained’ keeping the city safe. This did nothing to account for Celestia, Cadence, Faust, or especially Iridia. Fleur’s ears pricked up, and she looked around again trying to spot either of the queens. Her stomach tightened when she was told both left before the duel even began.

Head lowered in thought, Fleur mounted the carriage, and remained silent as they were carried through empty streets to the palace. Worried faces poked out of windows, glaring up at the shimmering dome covering Zerubaba. Here and there a zebra stumbled along a street as if in a daze. A large crowd had gathered on the grounds of the Tamil Tahree, the carriages giving both a wide berth as they rumbled along. The zebras prostrated themselves as they chanted in prayer, some beating themselves, or splayed out in sobbing hysterics.

Fleur rode with Rainbow Dash, and both stayed silent the entire trip. Rainbow’s face was cast in a stern mold, a hoof idly rubbing at the side of her belly. No matter what protests she faced Rainbow would refuse to be side-lined a second time.

All too soon they arrived at the palace.

Before the carriages rolled to a stop, Pinkie bounced out of her carriage, Applejack’s stern voice calling for her to slow down. Face set into a determined line, Pinkie paid her no heed and dashed into the palace. Sighing, Fleur was close on Rainbow’s tail as she and Applejack raced to keep up.

Pinkie darted through the palace, ducking beneath zebras legs and kicking up over obstacles with flips or running along the walls. Reflexes verging on precognition, Pinkie avoided so much as missing a single step as she made her way through the chaos gripping the palace. A score of sprawling zebras were left in her wake as they ducked, reared in shock, or tripped attempting to avoid a collision with far less proficiency.

Stuck having to work their way through the mess, Fleur and the others were quickly left behind. Only Rainbow had any hope of keeping up, scattering papers and zebras alike as she zoomed over head in order to catch up. Trailing further and further behind, Fleur and Applejack were stuck having to navigate the confusion, while the empress and her entourage followed at a stately pace.

In a foalish pique of annoyance after tripping over a scrambling page, Fleur lashed out with her magic, shoving the disjointed mess of zebras to either wall. Despite holding near two dozen struggling zebras up near the ceiling, she barely noticed the impressive feat and would only later worry over how much Athena’s intrusion into her very being had changed her.

As they reached an intersection, Fleur caught sight of Algol in the corner of her eye, the Demonstar leading another pegasus by an iron chain.

Skidding to a stop, Fleur twisted to stare between the rapidly disappearing Applejack and Sirius. Fleur blinked a couple times. In the back of her mind something cracked, and then shattered. In a heavy flood, memories of her meeting with Sirius and their discovery by Algol returned. Fleur reeled, her mouth falling open as bile filled her throat.

“Fleur! Come on!” Applejack called over her withers.

Smiling sweetly, Algol tapped a feather to her lips, and whispered, “See you in Southstone Spires.” Throwing a broad wing over Sirius, shadows leapt up over and consumed the fallen stars.

Promising that when next she met Algol they would finish their duel, Fleur hurried after the Elements.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t to the rooms the other Elements shared with Fleur that Pinkie led them, but Twilight’s. By the time Fleur had caught up, Pinkie stood reared up next to an open window, the large, pink crystal that had been Authea held away from where Applejack and Rainbow stood.

“Pinkie, what are you doing?” Rainbow advanced a half-step, only to stop as Pinkie held the crystal higher.

“Helping!” Pinkie shouted, face contorted with conflicting emotions. Her hooves shook, and her lanky mane fell over her eyes.

“Let’s talk about this, sugarcube.” Applejack tried to wave Pinkie closer. “We are all worried about Twilight, but—”

“I can hear her!” Pinkie sobbed, wavering closer to the window. “I can hear the alicorn ghostie. She is so so, sooooo sad. She needs me.”

Pinkie then drove the crystal into her head, her friends shouting for her to stop. With a heavy thunk the crystal bounced off her head and out of her hooves, landing with a heavy, singular ‘thunk’ on the tile floor. It didn’t shatter or break or chip. It failed to so much as bounce. It did, however, leave slight depression in the floor where it landed, a cradling in a spiderweb of cracks.

Groaning, Pinkie rubbed her forehead, a bump already beginning to form.

“That is going to leave an ouchie,” she moaned between hissed breaths.

“Well, next time listen when we’re telling you to hold your horses,” Applejack said with a growl more exasperated than annoyed. She grabbed Pinkie by the cheeks, turning her friend’s head this way and that to inspect the growing lump. “You get the darndest notions into that noggin’ of yours.”

“What were you even hoping to accomplish? We need to go after Twilight, not mess around with rocks.” Rainbow gritted her teeth, shifting from hoof to hoof as she eyed the door and windows.

While the Elements bantered and reassured each other, Fleur reached out for the crystal. Her magic was grabbed, clasped in a grip so cold it burned the core of her horn. Foreign thoughts invaded her, replaced her, insinuating themselves over the contours of her mind and forcing her down strange paths.

Twilight’s quarters vanished, replaced by smoke, flame, and death.

The Citadel of Light was burning. Thick, acrid smoke coiled through the corridors. Bodies littered the ground, the citadel’s defenders refusing to cede any more ground to the invaders. Ponies, dryads, minotaurs, and griffon alike mingled together in death. The ground shook as giant, flaming boulders impacted magic hardened walls. Fury not her own choked Fleur’s throat, and she marched through the death with purpose. Pallas and Aegis hovered at her sides, the ancient weapons as hungry for battle as their mistress.

In a silver flash that left Fleur staggering, the citadel vanished, replaced by rolling, grassy fields and a balmy spring day. A small temple sat on a nearby hill, white marble colonnades holding up a blue-tiled dome.

A priestess waited at the base of a short set of steps. She wore simple adornments, a beaded necklace, laced sandals, and a light, airy shift cinched tight with a rope belt. Saying nothing, the priestess bowed as Fleur approached, and then lead the way into the temple.

Reclining before a statue of herself, Authea smiled as Fleur appeared. Her bright blue eyes shimmered with mischief, and with a swish of her horn, she summoned a long table covered in cornucopias of food and decanters of chilled wine.

“Well, this is an interesting meeting,” the Goddess of Hope giggled, and indicated Fleur should take the seat next to her. Cocking her head to the side, Authea narrowed her eyes and searched Fleur’s face. “You seem familiar. Have we met before?”

“Cousin, must you always act the fool?” Fleur sighed, a wing rising to rub her temple in exasperation. “I require your aid.”

Blinking a few times as if she’d been staring at the sun, Authea leaned back and sighed. “Oh, are you here as well? Well, then, this is going to be a fun conversation. I am unable to promise the answers you Hope, only those you need.”

Authea giggled at her own wit, eyes sparkling with mirth.

Snorting, Fleur picked up a fresh pomegranate, and peeled the fruit with exacting care. “The Olympians grow too bold. Hades stole Nyx, and now the heavens are in disorder.”

“Would you have preferred he took Persephone, and Demeter starve the world of the Spring?” Authea countered with a stifled laugh. When Fleur tilted her head in confusion, Authea continued, “Another story of another world, with players much like ourselves, dear-heart. Please, continue.”

“He has wronged us, and we must strike back. At the very least rescue our aunt.” Fleur beat her wings, and a great gust of wind burst from the temple, racing out over the sunny meadows. “The Olympians laugh at our weakness, at how timid we’ve become.”

“Hmmm, then Hemera should go to Lord Zeus with these grievances. Anything else will lead to war. Or, would you rather I go to my father? Mind, He listens to me no more than any other. The only council He trusts is His own… for now. In time He will find His equal, but you will not wait for them to meet.” Authea held up a hoof, forestalling Fleur. “No, say nothing else, dear-heart, and I will give you my council…”

Authea propped her chin on a hoof, and contemplated the fields outside her temple. A long procession of supplicants could be seen making their way along a narrow, cobblestone path. She clicked her tongue. Tilted her head. A whimsical laugh bubbled through her, and her eyes crinkled.

“Cousin, please! I need answers.” Fleur threw open her wings in exasperation.

“Answers? What makes you think I am in the business of providing them?” Authea snapped, amusement cracking as she crossed her hooves. “You came here looking for confirmation to what you already know. You and the other.”

“What ‘other’?” Fleur narrowed her eyes, and searched for whoever was spying on her. She detected nothing to indicate anypony was attempting to listen in on the conversation. Even the other gods knew better than to eavesdrop on another god’s temple.

Again, motioning for Fleur to stay quiet, Authea said, “Fine, if it will make you go away I’ll give you a snippet of Hope. Trust yourself. Trust the plans made. I make no promises of success, nor that everypony will come home, only that if you persevere there is chance. I am sorry to give only generic platitudes. You have come far seeking more, but even I can’t see the future. All I see are the currents of Hope, and the ways in which they may be navigated.”

Pausing, Authea gave Fleur a long, piercing stare, the blue of her eyes shining brighter still with intensity. She then leaned over, and gave Fleur a kiss on the cheek.

“I wish I could be of greater assistance, but I am already gone, and this advice is all I can give,” Authea’s smile turned sad, and with a deep breath, she said, “Now, as for you, dear Athena…”

And, with that, Authea, the temple, and the sunny fields melted away, replaced by the splendor of the Golden Palace. Staggering, Fleur bumped up against a strong shoulder that kept her from falling.

“Whoa there! You okay, sugarcube?” Applejack asked as she held Fleur up.

“You had another vision, didn’t you,” Rainbow said, coming over to scoop up Authea’s crystal with a wing.

Nodding, Fleur worked her dry mouth. Guided to a seat, Fleur recounted what she’d seen.

“How could some pony on another world know what is happening now, here?” Applejack demanded, chewing on the side of her cheek as she pinched her brow into a tight furrow. “So, she talked with you, even though she is dead? Celestia’s mane, this makes my head hurt.”

“Hardly matters, as she told Fleur to do what we were going to do anyways.” Rainbow snorted, rolled her wings, and headed towards the door.

Fleur gave an emphatic nod. “Oui. I must find Algol. I believe she is the true enemy Authea warned me about, and has captured Sirius. She is involved in the attack on the colosseum, somehow.”

“Algol is my most trusted advisor,” said the empress as she threw open the heavy doors and sauntered into the room. With jaw set, and a furious flash behind her draconian eyes, she gave a slight stomp. “She raised me, taught me all I know. She would never betray me.”

“I didn’t think you’d just ignore the plain truth when it kicked you in the jaw,” Applejack countered.

Considering Applejack for a moment, Maatsheptra nodded slowly. “If this is true, then I would have Algol brought to justice. Lord Halphamet!”

At the call of his name, the burly zebra pushed his way through the door. Beneath his helm he carried a deep scowl, and his eyes flashed red with magic. Heat rolled off his armoured body, distorting the very air around him.

“Lord Halphamet, you and the dahkrit are to escort the Elements of Harmony to my army. Contain Southstone Spires by any means necessary, then assist the Elements in entering the city. If you find Algol, bring her to me, but even she is of secondary concern. Do not return until the souls of my subjects have been secured. Burn everything else in your path if you must, but I will not have my subjects suffer for the gods’ feuds.”

The large zebra bowed low, and with a glance indicated that the Elements should follow before spinning on his hooves to march off.

“That’s, uh, real nice and all,” Applejack’s eye twitched, “but we do this kind of stuff all the time. We’re used to going it as a small group.”

Bouncing up behind Applejack, Pinkie chirped, “Like a Fellowship!”

Wearing a sickly-sweet smile, Maatsheptra’s serpentine eyes glimmered. “There is no debate here, Lady Apple. You may attempt to cross my empire alone, if you so wish, but my army will crush the griffon strongholds once and for all. With or without you, my army will march, and I will be the one to bring about my subjects’ salvation.”

“Then, we’ll just have to get there first,” Applejack countered, pushing her hat forward for emphasis.

Fleur had a sinking feeling in her gut. A deep, turbid sensation of impending doom.

Author's Note

Not much in the way of notes this time, mostly as I've ended up progressing further and further ahead in the story compared to what has been published. The last few weeks I kept thinking this part of the story was already published.

I had to fight to keep a reference in the dialogue. That is what I remember most about working on this chapter. Probably because the line was one of those, 'this is perfect' moments. Though, I doubt it will age well, and in a few months/years I'll wonder just what the hay I was thinking.

Sorry, I've not really had much to say in the Author's Notes the last few chapters. If there are questions, fire away!

Book Two: Chapter Seventeen: The City of Secrets

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duty and Dreams
Chapter Sixteen: The City of Secrets

Celestia’s swift steps created a ringing like a chorus of bells. In her shadow, Chronicle almost galloped to keep up as she crossed the palace. He’d served her many years, and it had been thankfully rare to see her so driven by single-minded purpose. This did little to bring him comfort as seeing Celestia actually having to react, rather than act out a predetermined plan, meant events had gone so far off course that it had fallen off the edge of the disc. His sunken, sallow expression highlighting the deep, aged lines of his face only drove Celestia to increase her pace.

Behind them lay a truly horrendous session of Daycourt. Ponies from across Canterlot packed into the marble chamber, all demanding answers on what she was doing to bring back their daughters. The press dubbed the spreading affliction the Sleeping Beauty Curse. City by city, town by town, it continued to grow. And Celestia was helpless to halt its advance. She still wasn’t even sure of the cause. All she could do was lie, and try to reassure the desperate parents.

For the time being, they believed her. They trusted her. She was Celestia, after all, and had seen them through so many crises before.

Even the temporary distraction of Zeus’ arrival was forgiven. His blunt fury on seeing the fillies in the hospital perfectly timed to coincide with the arrival of the press with their flashing cameras and darting pens to catch his promises of seeing the little ones restored did much to deflect criticisms. Celestia’s ‘gentle-stallion caller’ was on their side, and the public’s full attention returned to the deepening crisis.

And now she was distracted by other matters.

Again.

Nopony on the disc was yet aware of what had occurred in the heavens, though they’d learn in only a few, short hours. The stars were gone. Not asleep, but gone. Worse, Luna still hadn’t responded to Celestia’s inquiries, passed along through Sol to Selene. If not for Selene’s assurances that Luna was only occupied, and would contact her when there was a moment, Celestia would have worried that whatever had befallen Twilight had taken Luna as well.

“Princess Luna can take care of herself, your Highness,” Chronicle wheezed as he attempted to keep up. “There are matters here that require your attention. The ambassador for Hackney has been insistent on meeting with you this morning.”

“Hackney is simply trying to remain relevant,” Celestia replied with little conviction.

With everything else that had been going on, she’d allowed the delicate situation with Prance and Hackney to slip in priority. Once Twilight and Luna were home, the fillies were awake, and the threat of insane dead alicorns was finally dealt with she’d return to dealing with the matter of Prance and Hackney. She hoped that Hackney would avoid doing anything stupid in the meantime.

Entering the Royal Quarters, Celestia demanded without preamble, “Have you found them yet?”

Sitting on a lounge, head bowed as she communed with the tides of Love, Cadence didn’t respond at first. Rare impatience flaring, Celestia began to repeat her question, when Cadence fluttered her eyes open and said, “Mother remains in Zebrica. But, Twilight…”

“Is still missing,” Celestia concluded, heart sinking.

“She isn’t dead, though!” Cadence quickly added, tapping a helpless hoof on the edge of her seat. “This is very different. Every time I try to find her, the strands of love simply vanish. They aren’t broken, like when a pony dies, they just… fade. Everypony I try to use as an anchor—You, me, Velvet, Shining, even Iridia—it always has the same result. Twilight is simply somewhere I can’t find her, and she has taken the stars with her.”

Celestia lowered her head as she pondered the possibilities. The only conclusion she reached was that Twilight had left Ioka. Whether this meant Twilight was on Gaea or some other world was immaterial. Before the coming of the Gaeans, the concept of other worlds languished in the realms of fiction or ancient myths. She had so little information on what was beyond the disc or Winterland’s borders. Never before had her lack of knowledge of the greater cosmos been such a pressing issue. But, she did have a source of information.

With a resigned, internal sigh, she asked Cadence to continue looking and went in search of Zeus, leaving Chronicle to deal with the remainder of the day’s more mundane issues.

Since their brief time in Prance, when not lavishing Celestia with attention, the God of Storms spent his time at Notre-Dame de la Chanson. His reason being that, as a god, his place was in the center of Faith. Surprisingly, he was also exceedingly, annoyingly, friendly with Blessed Harmony, the Revered Speaker taking to long chats with the foreign god.

At first, Celestia was glad to have Zeus out of her mane for even a few hours. Suspicions quickly formed when she’d learned with just who Zeus was spending his time. A nagging worry said he was trying to find information about Faust’s plans. He still insisted that Faust would exact some form of revenge.

Flying to the cathedral took only a minute; a long, heavy-minute as Celestia worried for Twilight.

She found Zeus alone in the main nave, gazing up at the oversized statue of Celestia. A deep, contemplative frown pulled at his face, making his bright eyes crinkle in the corners. Little crackles of electricity in his thick, unruly mane and beard gave evidence to the racing nature of his thoughts.

A small group of mares stood to one side, clearly waiting to speak to the foreign god. Others trailed past, shooting him and Celestia suspicious glares as they made their way deeper into the temple. Prayers for the return of their daughters was all they had left.

Turning away from the statue, Zeus put on his habitual smile, natural good humour giving him a vibrant glow. “Another brilliant day you’ve blessed upon this world,” he said by way of greeting, followed by a rumbling chuckle. “Where are we off to visit this time? Are we to help those delightful ponies in Prance? Perhaps there is somewhere else you wish to show me? Or, do you seek some time for us to be alone?”

He waggled his eyebrows and uttered another chuckle at the frown Celestia gave him in return. Behind him, the small group of mares scowled.

“You have been following what has happened in the heavens.” It was neither a suggestion nor a question. Celestia knew for a fact that he kept very close tabs on what occurred above his storms.

Some of Zeus’ good humour faded, and he gave a sour grunt. “Oh, that. It reminds me a bit of home; the wound above Gaea left by Astraea’s final act of defiance. Only, this is all-encompassing. It is rare to see a physical alicorn absorb their charges.”

“As much as I dislike to admit it, I need your help, Zeus. This is beyond my experience.” Centuries of politicking kept the words from sticking in her mouth. “Anything you know would be useful.”

Zeus seemed to consider Celestia for a short while, searching her face before turning upwards in contemplation.

“I refuse to hazard a guess on what has happened, precisely, except that fair Twilight got into a scrap of some sort, and called to her all her stars. I’ve witnessed other gods of the heavens perform similar feats, and have done so myself on occasion. Given that the stars have yet to return, Twilight lost.”

Zeus spoke in the patient but firm tone of a king. His bouncy, youthful exuberance held in check by a commanding, fatherly presence. The playful overgrown colt that had bounded into her court, and demanded her affections was not gone but grown up. He even appeared older, wiser, and more handsome as a result. A few lines of silver speckled in among his beard and at the edges of his mane near his ears.

Focused on Twilight, Celestia noticed the changes to her perceptions but didn’t care. Her heart raced with fear. Fear for Twilight.

“Are you saying Twilight is dead?” Celestia said softly, fighting to contain her dread. Cadence’s reassurances did little to abate the worries swirling in Celestia’s breast.

“Unlikely, my dear,” Zeus said quickly, the force of his conviction, added to Cadence’s, helping to lift Celestia’s spirits. “More likely she has been banished or otherwise cast off the disc itself. The stars are more attuned to the hidden pathways between the godly realms than the charges of more terrestrial alicorns. Far more so than other physical aspects. Much like Astraea, she probably reacted to protect herself and teleported away. What we require is a god or goddess of the Hunt. Somepony who can track through the depths of the Winterlands, and into realms beyond the sight of mortals. Ioka has no such gods, however, so we may need to journey to Gaea and enlist the assistance of my daughter. Niomedes will be able to find Twilight, no matter where she has run.”

Celestia strongly disliked the idea of going to Gaea for any period of time. The stories Tyr and Zeus spun of the world made it appear barbaric and cruel. A world where war and callous disregard for others was the norm. But, if it meant finding Twilight, she was willing.

They may even find Twilight already there.

Before she voiced her agreement, another thought occurred to her. Ioka may lack a dedicated alicorn of tracking, but there was a pony even more proficient than Cadence when it came to finding the lost.

Stifling a sigh, Celestia shook her head, and repeated Faust’s parting words, “‘When you require my assistance, I’ll be with my sister.’ We must go speak with Faust.”

A whisper of amusement twinkled in the corners of Zeus’ eyes. “Yes, her connection to the Weave of Fate certainly would give her an advantage.”

Celestia didn’t wait to perform any of the thousand little tasks necessary to leave the palace running in her absence: doppelgangers or stand-ins, notes to Chronicle, instructions for the Madam Speaker of the House of Ladies, the Commandant General of the Cloud Conclave, and the Prime Chancellor of the House of Commons. She trusted them all to act according to their own interests for a day or two in her absence. Failing that, they’d uselessly bicker until she returned.

It wasn’t as if there was anything important for the government to handle at the moment.

Filled with urgency, she cast aside the myriad reasons why leaving the various branches of government alone was an idea liable to bring disaster.

Only a brief few decades since her last visit to the Taiga, Celestia found it much the same. Even the nature of her visit was much the same. Then, too, it had been in search of a missing Sparkle. She hoped her visit this time would be more productive.

Reinalla was precisely identical to her memories of the small town. Still a haphazard collection of differing architectural stylings between the halls of the various lodges. Cottages dotted the rolling hills and along the narrow, fast flowing stream running through the center of the town. A band cleared of trees circled the town. Evenly spaced menhirs served as anchors for a magical barrier that warded off the dangerous wildlife and beasts of the forest, while also hiding the town from unwanted guests.

Likewise, Thornhaven remained as it had for the past three thousand or so years. The precise date of the castle’s construction was as murky as the records of the Golden Era from any nation outside Faust’s empire of Thulesia.

A large herd gathered in the western fields attracted Celestia’s attention. Iridia and Faust stood out amongst the dark brown coats of the Halla. The queens relaxed on a spread blanket, watching groups of fawns race back and forth across the field, each carrying a long stick with a basket on the end used to hurl a large wooden ball. Celestia recalled only a few details of the game, enough to know it was fairly similar to Hoofball. One of the youngsters, putting on a burst of speed, shoved his way through the opponents’ line, lept up to catch a daring pass, and spun on landing to score a goal. The crowd bellowed and snorted with approval.

It was then that Celestia and Zeus were noticed, a few Halla pointing at the descending alicorns.

“Oh, what is it now?” Iridia snapped even before Celestia had settled her wings against her sides. “Come to gloat? To rub in how you were right about me and Twilight? Well, you were. I’ve driven her away, just as I did everypony else important to me! Happy?”

Caught off guard, Celestia had a rare moment of not knowing how to respond.

Puffy eyes stared daggers at Celestia, and for an instant, she hoped that Twilight’s departure somehow involved Iridia. At least then the mystery would be solved. It did little to answer why Luna was silent, or the stars vanishing. After another half-second, Celestia dismissed the idea. Whatever had happened between Iridia and Twilight, something else was responsible for Twilight’s disappearance.

It also went against Iridia’s nature to sit idle when anypony she loved was in trouble.

Further confirmation came from Faust, her wing touching Iridia’s withers in a comforting gesture. “They have come to speak with me, sister. There are questions only I can answer. We will only be a moment.”

Pushing herself up, Faust indicated Celestia and Zeus should move away from the field. Eyes followed them, some suspicious, some curious, but most returned to the game. Except for Iridia, who pouted and scowled at her sister and niece.

“I have three things to tell you, then you should return to Canterlot,” Faust said without preamble as they reached the shade of a tree. “Luna and Fluttershy are safe, for the time being. They are concentrating on maintaining a barrier around Zerubaba. Thanes lay siege to the city, the same ones who have been collecting the souls of fillies across Ioka under orders from Hades.”

Celestia clamped her jaw tight to refrain from interrupting, follow-up questions burning through her head. Zeus had no such qualms, and let out a harsh snort.

“My brother is many things, but he would not unleash the thanes in such a manner. It goes against the natural order, and there is no pony more duty-bound than Hades.”

Faust gave him a scathing glare, frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Dear cousin, you hold your brother in too much esteem. Hades’ thread shines with a deep hunger for vengeance, and Twilight has become the focus of his attention. Their threads are bound in a way I’ve seen only among lovers and the deepest of enemies. Either one destroys the other, or…”

She trailed off and shook her head.

“If either of you goes, the other will follow, and you will fight. It is only natural. You will side with your family and doom the disc. Before my death I spent centuries peering down the strands of the Weave, seeing all the myriad ways the strands could combine, and whenever the two of you fought all others burned away. The Weave itself unraveled and was devoured. I drove myself mad trying to prevent such destruction but to do so meant devastation elsewhere. In my frustration to prevent all harm, my mind began to unravel. Harmony seemed an impossibility. But, Harmony is not found in nations, nor is it found in the future, but in the here and now, in the burdens we chose to bear, and bear well.”

Faust tapped her breast.

“Our burdens are to know that our family battles, and abstain from involvement.”

Zeus bristled. Celestia was quiet, contemplative, searching her heart and trying to come up with some counter-argument, or plan.

“There is something else…” Faust spoke, voice suddenly hesitant, and gaze drifting to the grass between her hooves. “Something I dare not give a voice for fear of shattering it like a stone going through a stained glass window. If the Fates decree it to be so, I see the potential of so much joy. But, that joy could so easily be turned to rancor and enmity. No, I must stay quiet, and here where I can do less harm. I know you want me to return to Canterlot, or failing that, patch things with Luna. But, I do not know how to speak to her.”

“I would like both things, immensely.” Celestia sighed. “I also know that they are just dreams, mother. Beautiful, wonderful dreams. I am no longer a filly who needs your approval. A thousand years I watched over Equestria alone, for all intents and purposes. I am my own mare and have been so for some time. All my greatest mistakes were made trying to act how I thought you would direct. Fostering Tyr, keeping my powers repressed, and so many other decisions great and small. Having cast them all aside, and re-affirmed myself, I am at peace at long last. I will return to Canterlot, not because you say I must, but because I trust Twilight. ”

Faust gave a slight nod and looked up through her bangs. “I was never the mother you or Luna deserved, my sweet, little Tia. I gave you everything, and her only hardship and suffering. In disguise I was your mentor, and so proud of you. And I feared Luna. I feared her eventual Fall. I feared the Nightmare, and having to choose between my daughters, and knowing for all those years with which one I’d side when my hoof was inevitably forced.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Every fibre of Twilight’s being stung as if she were being jabbed by a billion needles. While the annoying sensation passed quickly, deeper aches in her essence persisted. Hissing, she rolled to her hooves, breast aching where she’d been struck by Hades’ magic.

She wasn’t too concerned about losing the fight. So long as she regrouped with her friends and the princesses, she was certain that Hades would be defeated. If she’d only waited for Luna and the others, everything would have gone differently.

Looking around, Twilight discovered wholly unfamiliar surroundings. She was in a narrow passageway filled with a thick gloom that dimmed her vision and congealed into utter blackness only a few short spans beyond her snout. Channeling magic into her horn resolved what she’d initially mistaken for oddly shaped bricks into the spines of books and stacks of scrolls lining shelves that stretched out and up beyond sight.

Joy and a comforting sense of familiarity wrapped itself around her. She briefly wondered if perhaps she’d died and gone to Elysium. Except, all the accounts of Elysium were rather uniform in nature; Golden fields surrounding a city of silver and platinum spires that stretched for miles into the sky. Though there was nothing to indicate what was inside that city, Twilight doubted it’d be an abandoned library.

Pulling a scroll at random off the shelf sent a small cascade of dust puffing into the air. The familiar crinkle and musty scent of aged parchment caressed Twilight’s ears and nose.

Quickly, she scanned the faded script, looking for a sign of where she was in the library.

Assuming it used a contemporary system of organization, Twilight was confident she’d be able to find her way out.

‘Fourth day of the Old Spring Moon, Year of Dancing Badgers; Today Able Downy slept with Miss Nutmeg in the loft of the barn. They spent the afternoon together before Able snuck back home and lied to his wives where he’d been. He keeps promising Nutmeg he will broach the subject of her joining the herd. He kept silent again today.’

A series of marks at the bottom of the page reminded Twilight of the ancient cuneiform scripts uncovered in the eastern deserts.

Frowning at the odd nature of the scroll, she slid it back into its slot and removed another.

This scroll was near identical, except giving a tally of a shipment of grain. Able Downy used the proceeds to afford some jewelry for his first wife, and a fancy bonnet for his second wife.

The utterly mundane nature of the scrolls stymied Twilight. It wasn’t even stuff that would have been worthy of printing in the Equestrian Enquirer.

Tossing the light overhead revealed endless rows of books, scrolls, and documents stretching for miles. Dust clung to the shelves and the spines of books, thick cobwebs filled the spaces of scroll racks, and skulls leered in the gloom. Twilight blinked a couple times and looked closer. Skeletons dotted the aisles here and there, leaning against the shelves, heads slumped in death. Some possessively clutched scrolls and books, while a few seemed to have died trying to run away from something. A quick look around showed no less than seven such skeletons in the aisle.

Her enthusiasm quickly turned to resignation, and she muttered a low oath.

For hours she wandered the giant, ancient library using magic to mark her passing. Quickly, she established a lack of logic to the corridors of books. History texts mingled among personal notes; atlases of worlds Twilight had never heard of butted against mundane diaries; great tomes of archaic knowledge penned in unrecognizable languages sat beneath heaps of shopping lists. All in all, the library was in dire need of a good sorting.

Twilight fell into thought as she wandered. The stars slumbered inside her, a slight hum surrounding them as they dreamt. She felt so strong, so powerful. Capable of anything. Yet, so very heavy. The light of her stars flowed through every fiber of her being, radiating power as she’d never before felt but leaving her sluggish, her legs leaden and steps heavy.

Beyond the weight of the stars, her failure pressed down on her back. Her confidence was shattered. To call her confrontation with Hades a ‘fight’ would have been the grossest of exaggerations.

Twilight bit her tongue, anger casting a deep red glow in the cores of her eyes. She had no idea how to defeat Hades and rescue all the fillies he’d stolen.

Centering herself, she decided to put the stars back into the heavens. If she required them, she could bring them back at any time.

To her dismay, the stars refused to leave her. They swirled around her imaginary hoof like leaves suspended in water. Taking firm hold of Polaris, Twilight attempted to move the Lodestar alone. The strands binding her to Polaris stretched, and then met hard resistance before it snapped back like a rubber band.

Mouth suddenly dry, Twilight craned her head up and separated her essence from her body, and flew towards the bleak, empty sky. The library stretched out in every direction for miles before disappearing into inky shadows. Putting the impossibility of the structure’s size out of mind, Twilight focused on reaching the heavens and restoring her stars to their rightful places. She slammed into the ceiling and bounced off its unyielding surface.

Invisible eyes widening and mouth falling open, Twilight pressed a ghostly hoof to the hard stone. She’d always been able to pass through objects in her ethereal form. On closer inspection, Twilight saw that the stone was composed of spider silk thin strands of crystalized aether. Where she touched they glimmered with a soft violet hue.

Descending back to her body, worry and building frustrations twisted her ethereal form. She had to find a way out of the library and back to Southstone Spires.

The library remained lifeless the rest of the ‘day’. Trusting her innate ability to tell when she should have been waking and setting the stars, she wandered aimlessly. After a couple hours she slowed, brow pinched into a tight furrow and checked for the hundredth time how long until she needed to have the stars back in the heavens. And, for the hundredth time, her inner-clock told her it was a little less than a half-hour until sunset.

Time had progressed. Just, completely at odds to how it should have on the disc. Hours turned into days, and minutes rushed into hours. Either, it was racing within the library relative to Ioka and her perception of time was locked to its passage on the disc, or…

She didn’t want to contemplate the ‘Or’.

Worried the library had done something to her, Twilight began to hurry. All the aisles looked the same, broken by identical hubs, desks where librarians should have been sat empty and covered by thick layers of dust. Even Twilight began to lose her way until she, at last, found a variation in the depths of the maze.

Turning a corner, her path was blocked by a toppled shelf. Charred remnants of scrolls, books, and bits of wood heaped on the ground. A tuft of black mane lodge in the sharp edge of a shelf made her stomach churn. Glittering, dried silver blood was splattered across one side of the aisle.

A dozen hemmravn skittered and jumped across the shelves, holding scraps of parchment in their beaks. The large twin-headed spirits worked under the guidance of a particularly large hemmravn, its primaries tipped white from age. As Twilight stood transfixed, several of the spirits alighted on the fallen shelves, and with unified flaps lifted it back into position.

Done, the elder spirit turned its beady eyes on Twilight and let out a harsh caw. The other spirits all stopped what they were doing and spun towards Twilight, feathers ruffled in anger.

Snapped out of her daze, Twilight waved and quickly said, “Hello. Sorry to intrude, but, could you tell me where I am?” Under her breath she added, “And the time?”

The hemmravn shared looks, cawed to each other, and then took off in a flurry of black feathers.

“Wait!” Twilight desperately shouted, wings extending and with a kick, she launched herself after the spirits.

The hemmravn didn’t go far. Twilight picked out several other groups at work repairing similar damage to the library, setting aisles back in what they obviously considered order. These other groups joined the first until they formed into a shrieking black cloud. Over a raised section of the library, the unkindness began to circle like a black feathered storm.

At the center of the noisy spirits was a large throne, on which reclined a small pony.

Twilight blinked a couple times, surprised to see another alicorn, mostly as she found it impossible to sense the presence of anypony but herself.

Further surprises followed as Twilight recognized the alicorn as Shyara from Celestia’s descriptions. Except, she appeared only a few years younger than Twilight, rather than a filly the same apparent age as the crusaders.

Shyara lounged on a throne of books, tended by flocks of hemmravn. The obsidian feathered, birdlike spirits brought their mistress scroll after scroll, dropping them into her waiting aura before flapping off back into the giant library’s depths. Dozens more rested on the swooped back. A bowl of dark chocolate covered cherries rested on a mahogany table at her side, along with a glass of ruby red wine. In a stand behind the low table stood a wicked looking scythe, nobbed with bonelike ridges and a gleaming aurichalcum blade.

Dark bandages covered much of the young goddess, poking out at the cuffs of a long black gown trimmed in deep blues. A patch covered one eye, and the other side of her face was a mess of burnt flesh hidden behind a thin veil. She moved in the slow, precise manner of a pony avoiding aggravating sore limbs.

She looked up as Twilight approached, a scowl sharp as knives beneath her veil.

“Who goes there? How are you here?” Shyara jumped from her throne and glided down to Twilight. Missing patches of feathers made her flight unstable. Her hooves skipped over the worn tiles as she pulled up just short. Incredulity burned in her single eye and was quickly replaced by hope. In a rush she was hugging Twilight, face pressed deep into Twilight’s neck. She smelled strongly of spice and fire. “Mother, I thought you were gone! That the demon destroyed you forever when you rescued me and Trixie.”

Pushing Shyara back a little, Twilight said, “I think you have me confused for somepony else.”

Surprise, hurt, and anger flushed Shyara’s face as her deadly scowl returned. On her back alighted the ancient hemmravn Twilight had followed, a cruel sneer on the spirit’s beak. Quickly, she put more distance between her and Twilight.

“Imposter,” Shyara spat, ears curled over her head, and tail lashing like a whip. “Why do you wear my mother’s face? Why do you feel the same as her? Who are you?”

“She is Twilight. Living god. Dead god,” cried the hemmravn in Equestrian from both beaks. “Once Astraea. Torn in two. Half now Twilight, half now dead, all one soul. Iridia at fault. Iridia who took a shade-not-shade and smoothed the jagged wound and gave her new life. But still not whole. Still half-dead.”

Shrieking with laughter, the hemmravn took flight and wheeled overhead once before rejoining its brethren.

“Once Astraea?” Shyara repeated, her dark eye following the spirit, then returning to Twilight. “You’re Twilight,” she stated between clenched teeth. “Trixie warned me you were a thief, but to steal not just my mother’s domain…” Her voice trailed off into a growl.

“I haven’t stolen anything.” Twilight shot back, irritation crawling beneath her skin. She tried to piece together how Shyara was in the library. The last information she had was that Shyara and the Crusaders went missing beneath Iridia’s castle and that the Crusaders were being held prisoner by Hades. “How did you get here? Did you escape from Hades somehow?”

It was Shyara’s turn to shake her head, though she wobbled and raised a hoof to her temple, a hissed intake of breath caught in her throat. “Lord Hades? I have no idea what you are blabbering about.” Favoring her bandaged legs, Shyara said, “I don’t want to stand. Sit and tell me everything.”

Shyara beckoned towards the gloom, and another lounge emerged and floated to rest next to her throne. Wine was likewise summoned, and bowls of cherries and ruby red apples produced.

“I really have to get back,” Twilight shifted from hoof to hoof. “Everypony is counting on me. I’m not even sure how long I’ve been here. Time here is… wrong.”

“It is a little more condensed, that is all. If you want to leave, I may be able to help. However, I want to hear your story, so please, come and join me.” Shyara’s eye burned with a frosty gleam as she limped up the steps, pausing halfway to stare back at Twilight.

Stifling a sigh, Twilight trudged after the young alicorn. Shyara was breathing heavily by the time they reached the lounge-thrones, and one of her bandages glimmered with a silver stain. Twilight decided to wait on asking what had happened to give Shyara such wounds.

“Where, uh, are we, exactly?” Twilight hesitantly asked, glancing around the endless library with something almost like reverence.

If she weren’t pressed for time, with a tyrant stampeding over Ioka stealing fillies’ souls, Twilight could have spent epochs in the library pouring over every book and scroll.

“This is the Hidden Library, where all knowledge is kept,” Shyara made a sweeping gesture encompassing the mammoth library. “Where every secret or hidden truth placed on parchment, every book or scroll ever written is archived. All mysteries are categorized and shelved, from the greatest to the smallest; all are contained here. And it is all mine, apparently.” She watched with bright anticipation as the bowl of fruit was pushed towards Twilight by a trio of hemmravn.

Twilight’s mouth fell open, and she softly repeated, “Every book or scroll,” several times.

The sheer amount of knowledge surely contained in the limitless volumes overwhelmed Twilight. Mundane secrets certainly comprised the bulk, as she’d already uncovered. But, the number of disc shattering truths hidden within the expansive library weighed heavier still. Things like knowledge of the library itself, the workings of the Winterlands and the realms hidden within its frosty boundaries. Spells and runes long believed lost, or purposefully destroyed. Lost cities, civilizations, and the worlds beyond Ioka could be discovered. The true nature of the alicorns, and the origins of creation itself, both long theorized with little result in finding answers. And these were but the ‘great’ mysteries, excluding for the time being the personal, private, or small. Plots by nations or individuals. The identities of criminals, and wrongly accused innocents.

“How could such a place exist, and no pony even guess it was waiting out here?” Twilight wondered out loud, though the answer was obvious in that it was the nature of the place. What could be a bigger secret than the place where secrets were stored?

Except, ponies knew of the hemmravn and their skulking ways. How the spirits were always listening, always watching from shadowed branches of dark corners. If a unicorn needed an answer to some question, and was proficient with conjurations, summoning a hemmravn and bargaining for the knowledge was the surest method of finding that answer. Twilight had observed Velvet use the spell on a few occasions. The spirit listened to her question, then flew off and returned sometime later. Logic said the spirit was going somewhere to retrieve the answers.

Perhaps there was something about the library that kept ponies from thinking about its existence, from making the simple connections that such a place had to exist.

After eating a few bites, Twilight asked, “How did you get here? I heard that Iridia took you and the Crusaders—”

“How are they?” Shyara asked quickly, leaning on the edge of her seat and concern contorting the edges of her mouth. “Did they manage to escape? Last I saw of them they were running for a Gateway, but whether it was open or not I wasn’t sure. Did they make it back to Ioka? I’ve asked the hemmravn to look, but they have been busy undoing the damage my arrival caused.”

Twilight’s face twisted into a grimace, and she shook her head slowly as she said the Crusaders were being held prisoner by Hades. Shyara tilted her head and tapped her chin with a hoof.

“Is that why you asked about Lord Hades? Well, they will be safe with him,” Shyara concluded, giving a pleased nod. “He is a stickler for the rules and has little interest in the living if he is not crossed. Unless Apple Bloom has taken up necromancy in the last week, I see no reason he’d have to harm the crusaders.”

Anger, hate, and humiliation all burned Twilight’s cheeks. Her wings flared like bladed sails, and her voice crackled. “Tell that to all the fillies on Ioka who have had their souls stolen by his thanes!”

Behind her lace veil, Shyara pinched her brows together. “That doesn’t sound like something Lord Hades would ever do. He is perhaps the most oath-bound of the alicorns. Few take their duty as serious as he.”

“Yeah, there is a long history of alicorns going against their ‘duty’ on Ioka,” Twilight couldn’t contain her snort. “Faust flew off for thousands of years. Luna went mad and tried to bring about eternal night. And Iridia refused to bring the Spring, so ponies had to do that, too, for a couple dozen centuries.”

Pouring herself more wine, and swirling the ruby liquid in her glass, Shyara said, “Yes. We should have bypassed Ioka. Astraea intended to send us somewhere safe. A world home to one of the Seven Great Sins is hardly what I would call ideal.”

“The answer is probably here,” Twilight waved a hoof at the library.

“Probably,” Shyara agreed with a wistful, proud smile. Then she leaned forward and asked, “How is it you ended up here? I only just arrived a short time ago myself.”

The next several minutes were taken up by explanations by both on how they came to the Endless Library. Shyara listened politely as Twilight detailed her encounter with Hades, while Twilight balked at the descriptions of Sweetie’s brutality.

“You must be mistaken,” she said after Shyara told Twilight what happened at the makeshift bridge. “Sweetie could never do something like that!”

“I agree it does seem unlikely. Yet, I saw her kill a half-dozen Diamond Dogs. I never thought of her as a heroic figure, but heroes can emerge from many places. She saved her friends, and me, many times over in those tunnels. And then again when Thuban cornered us in the Garden of Crossroads. She is… my friend, I suppose. But more than that.” Shyara rolled her wings in a long shrug. “Friendship seems so paltry applied to a pony you owe your life, who fought beside you against impossible odds, who risked her life and sanity for the sake of those she loved. On Gaea she’d be a Champion, a Hero in service of the Gods. On Ioka, I don’t know what she is. Out of place, I suppose. Yours is no longer a world meant for great heroes.”

Twilight nodded slowly, her heart racing with thoughts of Pinkie, Applejack, Fluttershy, Rainbow, and Rarity. And even Fleur, Hardy, and Timely. They were her friends and had ventured into danger beside her, or because of her. In a way, all the Bellerophons were something akin to friends, and family.

She’d let them down, all of them.

They’d prayed to her, sought her help, and she’d ignored them. For hours she pushed their prayers aside.

Let them die.

How many? Twilight didn’t want to guess. Enough, given it’d been the Princess Platinum bearing down on them, the larger ship spitting fire and death as she thrust through the waves. Ophelia wasn’t alone in being dragged into the doctor’s care.

And now Sweetie…

The image of the Crusaders next to Hades’ thrones surged to the surface. Sweetie, her mane lanky and gaze dead, devoid of innocence or laughter pierced Twilight to the core.

“What would Rarity say if she knew what had happened to Sweetie,” Twilight whispered, head hung in profound weariness. “What I allowed to happen.”

A heavy stillness settled over the library, broken only by the distant flutter of wings. Twilight fell further and further into depression. She’d failed everypony. Over and over, the faces of all those she could have saved, or helped, or guided flared before her eyes. Rarity, Trixie, Ophelia, Hattmettren, Sweetie, Scootaloo, Apple Bloom, and on and on. She even imagined the face of her biological father. She knew nothing about him, except that he might not have even known about her. Doubts circled over where the truth lay.

“I wish I’d sent Iridia away sooner,” Twilight growled, hooves digging into the soft fabric of the sofa. “I wish she’d never come into my life. I wish I'd never left Equestria. I wish I'd been there for everypony when they needed me. I wish I hadn't failed them all.”

“Well, I am unable to help in that regard, but if there is anything you wish to know, I may be of some assistance,” Shyara said, her tone light as she jumped off her couch, and stumbled a little.

Twilight stretched off her couch, catching Shyara before she could fall. Shyara recoiled a little at the touch of Twilight’s hoof on her shoulder and looked away with a soft scowl on her features.

The offer was very tempting. No, it was something she was going to accept. There were too many questions buzzing in the back of her head that needed answers. Little things, perhaps, or maybe big things. Words, snippets of conversations, actions taken, and not taken; they built in the back of her head.

From Leviathan and her twisted sense of a ‘game’, and her prophetic words, ‘You must play the game. There is no other option.’ Leviathan’s voice rang in Twilight’s head like a bell, and with a groan, she began to pace. Thoughts raced over every choice made since she’d Awakened, every encounter, trial, or fight. Leviathan and her ‘game’, where Twilight abstained and thought that was right, and so many ponies died. Faust running off, and the subsequent fight with Zeus that devastated Prance. Could she have made a difference there? Could she have saved anypony? Again and again, her mind returned to Leviathan’s taunts.

She needed confirmation of a theory.

“Did I make a mistake when confronting Leviathan?”

There were so many other questions that were more pressing. Strategies on how to defeat Hades. How to rescue the stolen souls. Corroboration of his claims that she was partly dead.

Yet, it was Leviathan’s words that rankled deepest. Events in Zerubaba only further heaped doubt on her choice that day.

She’d saved Pinkie and Princess Hattmettren from a shade. She’d saved the Bellerophon. Perhaps she was meant to save others as well. Such as the father she’d never met.

Or Rarity.

Shyara hesitated, some argument half-formed, and then was dismissed with a shrug of her withers. Through pursed lips she let out a long whistle that carried throughout the infinite shadowy depths of the library. Several minutes passed, and then an elder hemmravn emerged from the gloom with a scroll bound in ivory and gold clutched in its claws. Wheeling around Twilight, the spirit dropped the scroll case into a waiting aura. Quickly, Twilight undid the clasps and pulled out a length of fresh parchment.

Let it be recorded here-in,
Beneath the midday-moon,
And black-ringed sun,
Did Twilight Abigail Sparkle Tuilerya,
She who presides over the Night,
Mistress of the Stars and Wishes,
Guardian of the Sacred Vales,
Battle the First Great Sin,
The millstone scaled serpent,
Devourer of Marelantis,
Mother of Monsters;
Leviathan, Demon Queen of Envy.

Presented with a choice,
Glorious maned Twilight,
Of the six-thousand diamonds,
Electing to follow the bloodiest path,
Laid down her spell and sword,
And in so doing ensured her own defeat.

~The Book of Polaris, 2:16

Silently, Twilight rolled the scroll back up and placed it into the case. With precise motions, she set it aside. Once done, she brought her hoof up to her chest, took a deep breath, and exhaled in a controlled rush. Repeating the exercise did little to slow the thrumming in her chest, or push back the bookshelves looming over her as if about to collapse.

Her usual techniques only dulled the torrent of anxiety battering the inside of her chest.

Laying her hoof over the scroll case, Twilight said to herself, “It seemed the most logical action; refusing her terms. I was so certain. So arrogant. And it cost so many ponies everything. How did I go wrong?”

The question came half-unbidden, issued in a hoarse whisper that she didn’t fully hear. The nature of the library was such that any question once asked would be answered once the Goddess of Secrets permitted those answers to be given.

Another scroll appeared, this one with a long stream held on embossed silver rollers with tassels of manticore mane. Hesitantly, Twilight reached for the second scroll. Her aura fluttered, spitting off a few sparks. She was met by an elegant script cascading down the page.

Dear Diary,

It has been nigh onto a thousand years since last I wrote, and much has progressed. All my plans came and are coming to fruition. Twilight has taken my bait, but how could she do otherwise when I took one of her friends? Her triumphs over Nightmare Moon and Discord give her overabundant confidence. Confidence her trials in the Crystal Caves did little to abate. And now, fully in possession of her latent powers, she grows bold and ripe for mistakes that will crash down on those around her.

My pact with Faust nears an end. She believes it is I about to fall into her trap, but I am the one who lays the snares and will catch my prey. And my prey draws nearer beneath a tower of white wings. Our games are old and span centuries or millennia, and it is easy for false victories to blind oneself of the dangers ahead. False victories I have lain aplenty at the hooves of the newest contender.

Faust is yet to suspect that through her I can plum the depths of the Weave, and do so hourly as she lay in her long sleep. With her, I may pluck at strands future and past, and see such delicious disasters looming.

Thousands burnt and buried by an impossible storm. Firstborn daughters taken by an invisible plague. Tartarus rising from the depths to consume a mortal city. A black-clad tyrant astride a ruby throne, and beneath their hoof all tremble in despair. But, most satisfying of all, my dear Faust dieing in her daughter's hooves, a victim of her own hubris to believe that I could be bested.

Warned her time and again I have that if I may not possess her, then none will. Harmony is mine alone.

Hush, time to lay down my quill and prepare my tongue, for I sense Twilight’s approach. It is now a matter of which defeat she will select. Careful, I must act, so that she elects no path, and her sorrows grow a hundredfold as she learns of all those she may have saved.

Twilight thrust the scroll away from her as she would a hive of bees. The edges of her vision turned red. Throughout her the stars swirled in a raging storm, screaming in her ears, howling at Leviathan’s deceit.

Quickly, she snarled, “Who could I have saved during the eclipse if I hadn’t rejected Leviathan’s… ‘Game’?”

Again, the answers came carried in black talons to be deposited in her waiting grip and again, Twilight took the scroll case with building dread. Dark as liquid night, held in boney clasps, it fought against being unfurled. Latches scraped along the surface like boney wingtips across stone. A musty waft like the loam of a sodden graveyard hit Twilight in the face as the case yielded its contents.

Her aura sputtered as it pulled free a list.

A far-too-long list.

Some of the names were bold with flourishes, others plain and written in a cramped script.

Serene’s name headed the list, seeming to writhe with a life of its own.

Rarity’s name followed in the most elegant lines and flourishes, half faded so that the ‘Y’ was nearly invisible.

Trixie Lulamoon stood out being bolded with a strong underline.

Underneath lay the flowing script for Thundering Mountain.

It was the length of the list that struck Twilight the most.

Hundreds of names morosely gazed back. So many as to have been broken down further by affiliations. Headings for Halla, villagers of Diamonds Down, and the crew of the Bellerophon were bolded in red ink, with the remainder unsorted.

Rolling the scroll and setting it into the small, mostly decorative pouches on her dress Twilight released a long breath. The revelations held an impossible weight, clutching her side and tugging at her back. Anger flickered through her jaw and down the curved slope of her throat, lodging itself there until she released it in a snarl.

She straightened, wings stiff at her sides and chin thrust forward. Determination blazed in her eyes. The core of her mane darkened as it grew, edges aglow with a cutting white gleam. Tears in her dress mended, and her crown was made whole. The edges of her essence pulsed, holes and tears in the core of her being she’d never noticed twisting in vain to close and heal. Her brow creased, and she turned to Shyara.

“Take me to Thuban.”

Shyara nodded, and lead Twilight into the twisting nexus of the library.

They found Thuban sprawled amidst a crater of ruined books and crushed shelves, limbs twisted and hardened in rictus. The Stellar Dragon, most powerful of the beasts created by Nightmare Moon to hunt Celestia, was dead. A deep-blue crystal lance, tall as a clock tower, pierced Thuban through the chest while several other smaller shards pinned wings, tail, and neck as though creating a giant display in an entomologist’s collection.

Twilight gaped at the destruction and the body of her star. A star stolen long before she’d even existed. Slowly, silently, she paced around the body. Up close she could feel Thuban’s lingering essence resonate with the core of her own being.

Shuffling along behind Twilight, Shyara gave a nervous laugh. “We fought for a week, through world after world, until we ended up here and I smote the beast’s ruin.” Shyara paused and shot a sideways glance at Twilight. “Whoever corrupted the great star did magnificent work. If Astraea had thought to do so, she could have made an army, loyal only to her, and conquered Gaea.”

A low noise rumbled through Twilight.

“I have no intention of conquering.” Twilight touched the tip of her wing to Thuban’s broad brow.

Even in death, the Stellar Dragon sparkled with the light of stars. She was beautiful in so many ways. Twilight’s heart swelled and an unshed tear blurred her vision.

Without any real thought or understanding of what she was doing, Twilight pulled. Streams sparkled across Thuban, meandering over scaled ridges and horned hills until they reached the edges of Twilight’s feathers. There they vanished, plunging into her in a rush like rivers beneath the earth. Down, down, down into her core, the aether cascaded, pooling near the edges of her oceanic reserves.

From the many broken strands littering the cavern of her inner being, she gathered one. A braid that hummed as it glowed softly. Into it, she directed Thuban’s remaining energies. Aether began to crystallize, filling cracks along the chain until it reached the broken end. New links formed and created a fresh rainbow-hued chain that began to sing a plaintive melody. Dancing light, flowing magic, and music all swirled together, until, in a sudden burst of motion and sound, it ended.

Then there was Thuban, spinning among the false heavens of Twilight’s soul with all her sisters.

Thuban opened her ‘eyes’, and in a hesitant murmur said, “I have had such a nightmare,” before the same sleep that held her sisters fell across her as well.

Twilight whispered soft nothings to the restored star. A lightness overcame Twilight like she’d just discovered her cutie mark, or Awakened again. Vitality soothed the last lingering aches of her fight with Hades. Part of her that had been missing was filled, and there were so many more pieces yet to recover.

Opening her eyes, she beheld that the body of the Stellar Dragon was gone. Shyara stood beside her, a sharp tint to her good eye.

“We need a way back to Ioka,” Twilight said.

Shyara gave a knowing grin.

Author's Note

Well, this chapter has taken a long time to get to this point. There are still some aspects with which I am not wholly happy. Little things that I could spend ages tweaking and shifting and not get anywhere. I'm past the point of pushing this out of the nest, for my own good.

Celestia's portion of the chapter is what I consider more akin to Housekeeping. Things that needed to be dealt with in some fashion to avoid questions further down the road like, 'Why isn't (Insert Character) doing something?'

And then there is Twilight's section. Working with a character as established as Twilight can be difficult at times. And then I recall that this Twilight split off from her counterpart in the show mid-Season 3. Despite how much I've meandered with characters over the course of Myths, Twilight was and is the central most character. I hope I've done a decent enough job showing her development here, especially with what comes next for her. The next chapter is 100% Twilight (and sitting north of 10k words, unfinished.)

Very nearly went back and did some rewrites just now (as I was putting this Author's Notes together prior to posting the chapter)... I really need to stop fiddling with this chapter...

Book Two: Chapter Eighteen: Race Across the Savannah

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duty and Dreams
Chapter Eighteen: Race Across the Savannah

For two weeks Applejack, Rainbow, Pinkie, Fleur, and the six members of Twilight’s Royal Guard raced across the dusty savannah, harried by fears for what had befallen their friend.

Applejack drove them tirelessly each day from the moment the first of Sol’s rays broke the horizon until it grew too dark to continue. Worry and exhaustion haunted the small force, leaving them too tired to bother with proper camps, everypony all but collapsing into a dusty, sweat soaked pile of bodies every night. They continued though, relentless in their march until the middle of the seventh day when they were forced to stop by somepony collapsing on the dusty, narrow road.

“Celestia’s Mane,” Applejack yelled. “I can understand Mrs. de Lis needing breaks, but you, Soaren? You’re military! And an athlete! A Wonderbolt no less.”

“Yes,” he said, flopping onto his back. “I’m a sprinter, not a marathon flier. I’m also just a regular pony, not…” His voice trailed off and he made a rolling motion with his hoof toward the three bearers.

“We ain’t demi-corns!” Applejack snapped, and kicked a nearby tree in irritation.

In defiance of her assertion, the tree flew several dozen yards, tumbling in a slow arc as it showered leaves over the ground before it landed with a branch snapping crunch.

Soarin gave her a flat stare. As did the equally exhausted group of Twilight’s guards. Rainbow covered her mouth to hold in her guffaws, while Fleur shook her head. Only Pinkie showed no interest, but only because she’d continued further down the road, stopping at the next rise when she realised everypony else was lagging behind.

Cheeks glowing a little, Applejack pushed her hat forward to cover her eyes, and muttered, “That weren’t nothing special. Lots of Earth ponies can kick like that.”

“It isn’t just me, you know,” Soarin indicated the six members of Twilight’s guard. Thick lather covered their bodies, and they’d long since shucked off most of their armour, keeping only light travel cloaks to ward off Sol’s blistering rays. Directly beneath the sun’s daily tract, her heat was so much greater than in the north. “You girls are setting a pace that would impress any drill sergeant.”

Chewing on her words in the corner of her mouth, Applejack said in a carrying voice, “Yeah, well. We gotta make up lost time.”

“Yeah!” Chirped Pinkie, popping up between Applejack and Soarin. “I mean, who could have known that the zebras had a train that went aaaaaaaaaaaaall the way to the edge of their empire, and that the big mean grumpy zebras would take it instead of using their hoovsies like us? Or, that the roads would be rather rocky and bumpy and windy? Or, that all the inns would slam their doors on our noses? Or that the villages wouldn’t open their gates? Or—”

Grinding her teeth, Applejack gently, but firmly, pushed Pinkie to one side. “We get it, Pinkie. We could have got a lift if it weren’t for me.”

Fleur wasn’t so certain about that assessment. If they’d accepted the Empress’ offer of transport they’d have also only had a carefully curated view of the land, and been kept sequestered once reaching their destination. Maatsheptra was certainly playing a game, but her ultimate goal remained obscure. Being free of the Empress’ agents gave them a far better view of the nation, and it was rotten.

An undercurrent of fear ran through every town and village they passed. It was the same every time. The local chiefs or mayors, and even once a lord, had stopped them long before they’d reached the town to demand to know their business and present their papers. Papers they did not possess. If they hadn’t been quick to retreat, they’d have been detained.

They avoided any settlements now.

It was a sharp revelation of the differences between Equestria and the rest of the disc. She’d been a filly when her father had taken the ambassadorial post in Canterlot, and young when he’d suddenly passed away and she’d had to take his place as Prance’s representative in Celestia’s court. Celestia’s gentle, but firm, style of governance had become the anticipated norm. Never in Equestria would towns have been without food, or patrolled by dozens of guards, with eyes turned inward as much as out. Zebrica was an empire in the old sense, and the zebras of the savanna were under the steel shod hooves of those of the rivers.

Fleur watched Applejack ruminate with a growing exasperation of her own. Applejack pushed and pushed for them to go faster and faster, and grew angier each day when they stopped to rest. She paced or fidgeted, and took to snapping at anypony who seemed to be slacking.

“Lady Apple,” she finally said, “you have to realise that you are trying to make us gallop from Manehatten to Vanhoover. A journey that used to take more than a month, non? The progress made has been magnifique. Understand—”

Rounding on Fleur, Applejack snarled, “Understand!? It’s y'all who need to understand! We’re all that’s left. Faust only knows what has happened to Twilight, but, if she’d saved the day we’d have known by now. She’d have found us to dance that silly little dance o’ hers. But she ain’t come back, which means she’s probably been captured. Again. Shy and Luna are protecting that city from them thanes. Iridia has abandoned everypony to go sulk, and Faust has—” Applejack’s voice hitched in her throat, but she pressed on. “She has betrayed us too. Won’t even look at us. We’re her Elements and she refuses to be in the same room as Pinkie, Rainbow, or me. So, yeah, I am focusing on the one thing I know. Twilight needs us. She needed us days ago.”

A comforting wing fell across Applejack’s withers, and a little of her anger melted from her face. “Jackie,” Soarin said softly. “Apple Bloom is Faust-blessed, too. So are her friends.”

“And what has that ever gotten me? Nothing but loads of trouble.” She ground her teeth, her entire body tense. Applejack moved off, followed by Soarin, the couple talking into the night.

That day’s discussion over, Fleur began to assist the exhausted guards with setting up camp. It would all be repeated tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. Until they reached Southstone Spires, or Twilight showed up.

Even traveling relatively light, there was still a lot to set up. Captain Scabbard watched as Teacă and her cousin set small fires to keep the savanna’s natural predators away, and a larger one for cooking. A pair of lean-tos was put up, sleeping mats unrolled, and nets hung to keep most of the insects from crawling over everypony. It was all rote by now, Fleur helping out where she could.

Once everything was done, Fleur went and sat on her own at the edge of the light cast by the fires. There she watched Sol set, and sent a little prayer for her beloved Fancy to be doing alright in her absence, and that he wasn’t worrying about her.

And then came the stars, accompanied by the distant growls of a pride of lions and the chirps of crickets. Even when called for dinner she continued to sit alone.

“Hey, how you holding up?” Rainbow asked, coming to sit and offer her a cup of hot soup. “Not too nervous about tomorrow, are you?”

Fleur answered with a scrunch of her nose, taking the soup and giving it a careful sniff. Cooking duties were spread out, and it was Soarin’s turn. The others all ate their meals with equal apprehension. She was met by a not wholly stomach churning smell. Next to her, Rainbow slurped down her bowl with gusto.

Setting her soup aside, Fleur let out a long sigh. “J’ai peur.”

Rainbow twitched an ear, and stared over her bowl across the golden savannah. “Well, you need to eat more than a few stalks of grass. Have you eaten anything today?”

“You sound like a mother already,” Fleur teased.

Sticking out her tongue, Rainbow huffed, “Told Twi I was going to be the best mom ever. Doesn’t hurt to start practicing.” A wing drifted down to the sides of her stomach, though it’d be months yet before she began to show. “Now, stop dodging my question.”

“Non. I have been unable to eat the last… while.” Fleur pushed the soup a little further away. “Since the duel.”

“Yeah, a fight like that can get in your head. Was pretty amazing to watch. But, we went up against a demon before, and that didn’t make you lose your appetite.” Some idea came to Rainbow, her head jerking up. “It isn’t Soarin’s cooking, is it? Guy is one of the best fliers alive, but put him near a kitchen and things just go wrong. His cooking is enough to chase away dragons. I think I see why he is so interested in AJ.”

Stifling a laugh, Fleur shook her head. “Non. I am never hungry. Food is just… unnecessary. It has been days now, and I am strong, and healthy, and full.”

“Hmmm.” Rainbow gulped down the last of her soup. “So, what you’re saying is it’d be okay if I had your portion.” Fleur cast a sidelong look beneath her mane at Rainbow, to which the other mare laughed. “Hey, I’m eating for two here!”

Her own laugh like the chiming of silver bells, Fleur happily set the bowl at Rainbow’s side. They sat in silence the remainder of the evening until Rainbow turned in. Fleur continued to watch the heavens until Sol was roused and it was time to continue on their way.

It was the same the next night, and the night after that, and after that. Hunger never pinched her belly, and even water was something she only drank to appease concerned looks. Sleep became foreign. And, if she didn’t sleep, she wouldn’t dream.

They crossed the savannah without incident, Kiligrifjaro solidifying in the distance by the end of the second week.

Signs of the passing army became more apparent. Wide swaths of earth overturned by numerous hooves and carts. The occasional battlefield, thankfully devoid of any bodies, with the winner only obvious by the continued advance of the zebras. Burial pyres at the heart of the fields were the only indicators anypony had fallen.

Gingerly, they stepped around the broken shafts of spears and torn pieces of armour left discarded in the yellow grass. Sometimes they passed a wagon or pile of supplies that had been abandoned, but that was rare. As the days rolled by, and the miles grew behind them, the number of scavengers grew. Lions and hyenas gnawed on bones under the watchful eye of vultures, while zebras from nearby towns or villages scooped up anything salvageable.

Warily, the scavengers watched the group of colourful ponies pass.

Almost three weeks after the attack on Zerubaba, after her duel with Algol, they caught up to the zebrican army.

A sea of bodies, striped coats melding with striped armour creating a single, solid mass, like a black-white ooze covered the grasslands ahead. Spears like a field of grain glinted in the simmering sunlight, a hundred and fifty thousand strong. Among them rose banners in various colours, each adorned by the unit’s unique sigil. Ornate drums on rolling scaffolding beat a steady thrum to which the army marched. In the center of the army a long line of giant, bronze cannons, maintained by teams of a dozen soldiers each, belched acrid smoke as tongues of flame sent iron balls arcing over the soldiers’ heads. Further off, older trebuchets could be spotted at the flanks.

Further afield to the north, a second, much smaller body of soldiers could just be discerned. A dark cloud flew above their far more loosely organised ranks below. Fifty thousand, all told, if Fleur was to estimate. Making it one of the larger griffon armies in the past several centuries, meaning the aeries had banded together, or been brought to heel.

And then there was Southstone Spires itself. A series of walls and gatehouses blocked the long, narrow road to the city proper, wards built in steppes up to the top of the mountain. Thick sheets of rain obscured most of the city, a lingering fog rolling down desolate, grey slopes. There were no lights. No movement. No sign of any life at all on the lowest walls. Spears didn’t glint between the parapets, nor armour shimmered under the moon’s light where it broke through the clouds in silver shafts.

“Awesome,” Rainbow let out a long whistle.

The guards in their group were equally impressed, but far more grim faced. “Never expected to see something like this again,” Soarin grumbled with a shake of his head.

“Ain’t no time for standing around like a bunch slack jawed foals,” Applejack said, leading the way back to a nearby copse of trees from which they could plan their next move.

How were they to get to the other side of the army, into the city, and find Twilight? Applejack and Rainbow both favoured direct approaches, but with so many zebras between them and the city, agreed that it’d be almost impossible to make it more than a few yards before being swarmed. Flying was quickly ruled out. Rainbow and Soarin were the only fliers, and they’d be alone against a city of griffons. Nopony had enough magic to teleport them, except perhaps Fleur.

When the suggestion was made, Fleur stiffened. “Non!” She protested, wildly waving her hooves. “Je ne connais pas le sort pour le teleporter!”

Her magic was… unreliable. She hadn’t dared to even check on her aether pool in the past few weeks. The idea left her trembling, both for what she might, or might not find.

“Alright, we get it, you can’t teleport,” Rainbow shrugged her wings and hopped off the tree branch on which she’d been lounging while they discussed things. “Well, I have no clue what we should do.”

Tapping Fleur on the shoulder, Rainbow indicated she wanted to be followed, “Let’s have a look around while they figure out the plan. Make sure nopony has seen us yet.”

“Oui, a bunch of colourful ponies standing on a hill are easy to miss, non?” Fleur responded, her spirits surprisingly buoyed despite the next problem they had to face. Behind them they heard Pinkie clamouring for attention, but were gone before her either insane, or strangely brilliant, idea was given.

“Wish Fluttershy and Rarity were here right now. And Twilight,” Rainbow grunted as they made the long circle around the campsite. “Especially Rarity.”

A sharp pang pierced Fleur, and all she could say was a soft, “Oui.”

Ear flicking towards Fleur, Rainbow came to a stop. “Oh, yeah, you knew Rarity too, didn’t you.”

“Oui. I hoped she would join my herd, once. It seems so long ago now, when it has only been a few months.”

Rainbow blinked a few times like she been slapped in the face by a wet fish. Her mouth opened a couple times, clamped shut again, and then she let out a long groan. “Why didn’t you ever mention this before? Why didn’t she? I never even knew Rarity had been in a relationship. She always seemed so… focused on her work, or saving Equestria. Kind of like the rest of us.”

Cheeks colouring a little, Fleur did her best to appear in control of her feelings. Face neutral, with just a pleasant little hint of a smile. Keep the racing of the heart, the flush of blood in her veins from showing. Just as she would in a negotiation.

“It was a while ago now,” Fleur demurred with practiced ease. “And never too serious. More a desire that wasn’t allowed to bloom. She seemed interested. Fancy found her fascinating, delightful, and brilliant. Yet, she never pressed the issue. I asked her once why, she gave her reasons, and that was the end of it. It feels so long ago now. Like it was all just a dream.”

“Hmmm,” Rainbow tapped her chin. “You know, your Equestrian gets better when you try to avoid subjects?”

Fleur’s cheeks flushed brighter still, and she sputtered for a few seconds. Long enough for Rainbow to begin laughing.

“Hey, it’s your business. And hers. Wish I’d known. So would Pinkie. We thought it was just us. If we’d known…” Rainbow’s voice trailed off and she ended her unfinished thoughts with a shrug. She then grew tense, muscles rippling along her back as some new thought came to her. “Now the Cutie Mark Crusaders are missing. Only Faust knows where they are, and she’s keeping her muzzle shut! If I ever see that mare again, I’m going to kick her flank so hard!”

Fleur began to say something, when a flash of movement came out of the corner of her eye. She began to twist around, reaching for Pallas and Aegis, the spear and shield appearing out of nothingness at her side. Raising Aegis Fleur slipped into the defensive stance drilled into her by Princess Luna.

The tawny brown blur wasn’t aiming at her, however. Instead, it hit Rainbow in the side, the pair rolling the the grass in a flailing ball of hooves, talons, and wings, before coming to a stop with the griffon on top with Rainbow pinned. The griffon opened her beak, a feline growl issuing from her throat, and for a moment Fleur was terrified that Rainbow was about to be killed.

Then the griffon demanded, “What are you doing here, Dash?”

“Gilda!” Rainbow tried to shoot up with a disbelieving laugh, but remained solidly pinned to the ground. “What in Tartarus are you doing way out here?”

“Hey, I asked you first.” Gilda flared her crest feathers, talons drumming on the loose dirt next to Rainbow’s head. “And why’d you bring only half the dweeb squad?”

Chuckling, Rainbow pushed Gilda off of her and rolled to her hooves. “That is a very long story. So, you with the griffon army then?”

Gilda’s crest flared again, as did her wings. “Tartarus no! I hate those featherbrained idiots.”

Stepping forward, Fleur asked, “Then what are you doing way out here?”

Snapping her beak shut, Gilda looked away and growled something. “That is my business.” Her entire body grew tense, and barely contained fury burned in the back of her golden eyes. Talons scraped long furrows in the dirt.

“Listen, me and my crew are going to be hitting the griffons tomorrow. There is a molly in there in need of… of a good flank kicking.” Gilda indicated the further army with a wave of her claws.

Pressing her lips together, Fleur glanced at Rainbow. Rainbow was considering the armies, her posture relaxed. Almost too relaxed.

Speaking up, Fleur said, “We need to enter the city. Lady Sparkle was last seen heading there, and her friends are worried for her safety.” She pointedly didn’t mention the fact the God of the Dead had taken residence in the city.

Gilda shook her head. “Don’t. That place is trouble with a capital ‘T’. We scouted the lower gates, and they stank of death. Southstone got what it deserved, far as I am concerned. Good riddance to those pebble brains.”

As if conjured by Gilda’s words, a wind blew across the mountain clearing away the rain and fog to reveal the city in all its decrepit glory. At first glance it was impossible to tell what was wrong with the city. And then it struck Fleur; there was no smoke coming from the chimneys. So high up the mountain, the city would be cold year round just like Canterlot. Yet, there wasn’t any smoke or the other telltale signs. As with the lower gates, it was as if the city was empty.

Fleur covered her mouth to stifle a sharp gasp. Of course there wouldn’t be any indications of life. Hades was the God of the Dead, of Tartarus, and he’d chosen to make Southstone Spires the seat of his throne on Ioka. A long tremble worked its way through her body as tears stung her eyes for all those who’d made the city their home.

Images of Athena’s descent into Tartarus flashed before Fleur; the wide, flat, empty plain of cracked dry earth; black walls hundreds of pony lengths high ringing the continent sized city at the heart of the Underworld; the empty, hopeless pale faces of the thronging dead; and the jagged, harshly sharpened edges to Hades’ palace in the distance, visible from almost every point in the city.

She could picture him at his ease, gaunt and black in a hall of grey shadows barely lit by smoldering coals, flush with power from his victory over Twilight Sparkle.

“Crew, huh?” Rainbow said, drawing Fleur out of her thoughts. “What sort of group would go after an entire griffon army?”

“Heh, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Dash.”

“Try me.”

Considering Rainbow, Gilda shrugged, beak upturned into a dangerous smile. With a sharp flourish, she said, “Humans.”

Rainbow blinked a couple times, then threw herself backwards, hooves clutching her sides while her wings flapped to, somehow, make her float. “Really, Gilda? Humans? What is this, a bad Trotkien fanfiction?”

“Hey, you asked,” Gilda pointed out with a dismissive flick of a talon.

Settling down, Rainbow turned as serious as she’d been on Marelantis during the shoregoing expedition. “You are different, Gilda. What happened?”

“What happened?” Gilda’s talons clenched, tightening until blood seeped onto the ground. “What happened was I lost everything Dash. Everything.

“First you, then Blinka, and finally my teacher. I’d be dead without Zubu, and not just because I’d been stabbed and he healed me. That crazy zebra trained me. He actually cared about me, in his own sadistic way. Without him, I don’t know what I’d have done. Probably what I’m going to do now. And then he just… died of old age. The disc wants me to be alone, and all I have left is getting some payback. You were right to abandon me, Dash. I was a really molly to you and your friends. As for Zubu, you can’t fight time. But, I can kill the molly who murdered my cousin. I can find her in that army over there, and sink my talons into her throat. That is all I have left.”

Rainbow stared in horror at her friend, mouth opening and closing soundlessly as she processed everything.

Without any former connections to the griffon, Fleur took what was said with a slight shrug. What Gilda was planning was suicide. No regular pony could hope to reach any of the generals of either army. Not during a heated battle, anyways. And a heated battle there was surely to be on the marrow.

To her surprise, Fleur said, “Then help us. That is what your friend would have wanted, non? Anypony who cared for you would tell you to hold onto life, not throw it away.”

Rainbow added in a firm, “Yeah, exactly.”

Gilda just shook her head, and turned to leave. “It was good to see you again,” Gilda said over her wings. “Let’s me say I’m sorry for how I acted in Ponyville.

“Listen, You—”

“You remember Blinka?” Gilda continued, talking over Rainbow.

“Yeah, she was always tagging after you. A total fangirl.”

“She is dead. Murdered.”

“Oh.”

“The molly who did it is out there, in that army,” Gilda indicated the further away of the two bodies of lights.”Tomorrow, I’m going to make her pay, then rescue…” Gilda shook her head, as if to cast off false hopes.

When she continued, her tone was surprisingly light, buoyed by acceptance of her fate. “The griffons took an alicorn filly. Blinka named her Talona. If you are going to that city, then for Blinka, find that filly and get her to your princesses.”

Gilda then vanished into the swaying grass, leaving Rainbow and Fleur alone on the rocky patch of empty savannah.

Pulse quickening, Fleur’s heart beat hard enough against her breast to cause her to shake. Athena’s daughter had a name. Talona.

What would Athena have made of such a development? And why had she never named her daughter herself? It seemed all so strange. On Ioka, and in Equestria and the Old Queendoms, ponies were named long before they were even born. Failing to name a foal was itself unthinkable, a griffon giving the foal a name more-so.

No matter what it took, Fleur would find Talona, and save the filly. She owed it to Athena, and to Talona.

They remained there for some time, each brooding in their own thoughts. Long enough for Selene to make her appearance as night claimed the disc.

That night the stars were especially active. They swirled and danced almost as if mimicking the ponies below. It was the night before the Summer Sun Celebration, after-all. The shortest night of the year, ponies, zebras, and more would be at parties that would last until morning to mark the official start of summer. Traditionally, the Prench Embassy held a grand gathering in Canterlot. Fleur wondered if her assistant or Fancy were hosting the gala this year.

This display, however, could not be termed happy. The stars motions were wild and frantic, an angry edge making them leave sparking trails of violet and red across the heavens. Athena had seen such displays on Gaea.

The war-dance of the stars heralding a day of blood to come on the marrow when their mistress would descend clad for war with a hardened heart. Athena last saw the stars make such a performance the night she and her cousins were banished from Gaea.

Fleur’s throat constricted, and she turned to relay what she knew to Rainbow, but the pegasus already seemed to have an idea what the display meant from the deep scowl she wore.

“I am so going to kick Twilight’s flank tomorrow for making us worry,” Rainbow muttered to herself before saying to Fleur, “Come on, we better head back now.”

Food was cooking, an ugly sludge of boiled grass and some sort of sweet potato Applejack had foraged, when Fleur and Rainbow returned. They were met with nods and a few question about what had taken them so long. Rainbow answered with a grunted, “Patrolling.”

After dinner, nopony wanted to go to sleep, worry and excitement in equal measure filling them with a nervous energy. Instead they all went about preparations for the infiltration of Southstone Spires. Fleur summoned Pallas and Aegis, and though the divine artifacts never required any such attentions, she began to oil the metals, and tighten the straps.

As she worked, Fleur was reminded of an ancient song of the Summer Sun. One from the War of the Sun and Moon.

At first she simply hummed a few bars while she worked. A barum-thum-pum-pum-pum in tempo that skipped easily off the tongue.

Then Soarin picked up the tune, adding his deep baritones at the appropriate points, and pounding a hoof against a log like a drum. Pinkie pulled a flute from the bottomless depths of her mane, and though not especially skilled with the instrument, she managed to find the tune. From that same nowhere a lyre and tamborine appeared, dropped into Applejack and Rainbow’s hooves.

On the next swell of music Fleur began to sing.

We oil our swords close to the fire,

Dark is this night, short though it seems.

For on the ‘morn our prospects are dire,

And so we must quiet our dreams.

Her laugh is cruel, bound by her madness,

Torn is her mind, and long is her reach.

Across the disc she spreads only darkness,

To Sol’s salvation beseech.

Everypony joined in for the chorus, soft and sad in their tones. It was a somber chorus, with little hope for what the next day would bring.

To—morrow, To—marrow,

Onward to battle my sisters,

Tomorrow the Summer Sun comes,

Listen not for the thane’s whispers.

To—morrow, To—marrow,

Onward to battle my sisters,

Tomorrow the Summer Sun comes,

Listen not for the thane’s whispers.

Fleur paused, her head hung low, as flute and lyre spun and danced around each other. Higher and higher they rose, mimicking Sol herself. The drum beat with greater vigor, and then Fleur resumed the song, her voice containing twice the power it had before.

With hearts of fire, on hoofalls of thunder,

Towards our doom, this army does face.

Though war may soon tear us asunder,

Our deaths we will face with Her Grace.

Cadence of Love, Celestia of Light,

Together they rise, as all sing their names.

Through forests of fire, they broke through her spite,

And cast the Nightmare into the flames.

To—morrow, To—marrow,

Onward to battle my sisters,

Tomorrow the Summer Sun comes,

Listen not for the thane’s whispers.

To—morrow, To—marrow,

Onward to battle my sisters,

Tomorrow the Summer Sun comes,

Listen not for the thane’s whispers.

As the last few strains of Pinkie’s flute left a fading mournful hole, the ponies settled down for the night. Only Fleur remained awake, sitting watch all through the short night, her eyes fixed on Southstone Spires, and what it would reveal with the dawn.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Sweetie Belle plodded along an empty street in Southstone’s Middle Ward.

Though they were no longer prisoners in the castle, she alone dared venture beyond its walls. Scootaloo hardly left their room, and Apple Bloom stayed by her side. Sweetie couldn’t stay in the castle. She had to move, to do something.

With a simple gesture, Hades had removed the brands on her and her friends, snapped the collars about their necks, and turned the ring on Sweetie’s horn to dust. Sadly, that was all he could accomplish. The marks on their heart could not be so easily mended. She despised the griffons, boiling hatred a warm lump in the pits of her gut.

Southstone Spires was no more. Whatever the city once was, Hades had swept it away with his arrival. Slaves and slavers. Commoners and nobles. Parents and children. All were gone, replaced by something far worse.

Their punishment had been too kind.

Sweetie welcomed the desolate streets. The click of her hooves on damp stone was accompanied by a solemn creaking groan of a hanging sign, canvass rustling in a light breeze over empty stalls, wares still laid out, waiting for customers that would never come. An overturned wagon half blocked the road, bags hurriedly tossed over it to form a makeshift barricade. Scattered food rotted where it had spilled from the cart.

Here and there bodies lay in twisted poses, rictus and gray. Ghostly forms hovered half in shadows. Eyes aglow with emerald and hate watched Sweetie pass. Ugly forms warped by Tartarus’ arrival on the disc, they skulked in the corner of her eye for only a moment before slinking away on the wind.

The scrape of hoof or claw warned her of zombies long before even their rotten stench. The mindless dead clumped together as they moved through the dead city. Slowly they congregated in the lower wards to from a horde. Their empty, glassy eyes were fixed ahead, and they hardly even reacted when Sweetie pushed her way past. Even the mindless undead were compelled by Hades’ command to leave Sweetie and her friends unharmed.

Those were the least creatures created by Hades’ curse.

A tavern door hung askance, thin light filtering through the crack revealing a few hairless griffons moving in the depths, pale skin gaunt over their bones, and hungry gazes staring after her long after she’d vanished around a misty corner. At night they swarmed outwards in search of living prey, desperate to steal a warm breath from a gasping throat so that they might remember briefly what it was to be alive.

In the towers near the castle lingered far more dangerous things than those in the lower wards. Atop the spires the queen and her cursed court plotted ways to break free of the city, and spread their maleficence over the countryside.

Only the castle formed any sort of safe haven. It was there that the griffons’ former slaves gathered. Those that had managed to survive without Hades’ protection. It only extended to the five ponies that had, for the time being, gained his attention.

Every other living thing in the city was fair game for the lurking dead.

The sound of sniffles attracted Sweetie’s attention. Half drawing Durandel, she slid up to a door on the edge of a darkened alleyway. It was the sort of place the undead would congregate. As she approached Sweetie detected the heavy, pungent stench of decay mingling with an equally strong smell of flowers coming from the doorway.

A thick band of salt spanned the entrance and charms hung from the frame. Pressing her side tight against the damp stone wall, Sweetie slid inch by inch closer until the tip of her horn poked over the edge.

In a single, fluid motion she jumped forward and channeled magic enough to fling a ball of light into the building. She landed just on the other side of the salt as the room bloomed in vivid colours. Her blood thrummed in her ears, and a surge of vital energy readied itself for any monsters leaping out of the shattered gloom.

Several zebras huddled in a corner, adults pressing their foals between bodies, shields against whatever came through the door. Sweetie refused to relax. Her gaze darted from side to side, peering into the shadowy nooks and the door that lead from the common room to the single bedroom used by the family. For a long minute everypony was silent, a dreadful stillness falling over the hovel. Faces pale beneath their striped coats, the zebras stared in open mouthed terror at the same pool of darkness as her. Something moved in that fathomless void, a slithering mass curling and unfolding just beyond perception.

Inclining her head towards the door to the alley, Sweetie carefully drew Durandel and put herself between whatever monstrosity hid in the adjoining room and the zebras.

Slick, slippery tentacles slid into the light cast through the cracks in the shutters. Thorny protrusions covered the slimy surface, a green ichor dripping from the tips. Dozens of emerald eyes opened in the darkness like hellish lamps, and beneath them a single mouth filled with thousands of jagged teeth.

Sweetie’s stomach curled into a tighter knot. Her mind recoiled in terror, and for not the last time she wondered how Celestia could allow such monstrosities on the disc.

There were no princesses coming to rescue the survivors of Southstone Spires. Twilight had tried, and she’d been defeated.

Since then; nothing. No sign of any of the other princesses.

Not Celestia, not Luna, not even Cadence. Iridia and Faust were equally absent. As were Tyr and Fluttershy, though what either of them could do eluded Sweetie. But, they were princesses and alicorns. And they’d all abandoned her.

So, it was up to her to confront the horrors lurking in the shadows and keep every zebra and pony safe.

Keeping her attention firmly on the thing in the other room, she commanded the zebras to slowly make their way out of the house in a low, hissing whisper.

They continued to stare, glazed eyes locked, mouths unmoving, a long line of drool hanging from white, dry lips. If not for the ever so slight movement of their chests, Sweetie would have believed them already dead. Between the adults the foals moved, sniffles going unanswered as they poked their heads out.

“They won’t move,” the eldest said.

The thing in the other room squirmed faster, a deep, amused grumbling gurgle sound that made Sweetie’s teeth ache and the foals disappear back into the petrified cage created by their parents legs.

Whatever it was, the creature was something other than the usual undead that filled Southstone.

Something dragged out of the endless void between worlds by Tartarus when the land of the Dead was brought to the realm of the living.

Something that smelled… like overly sweetened chocolate milk?

Sweetie’s nostrils flared wider.

Every instinct awakened since encountering the diamond dogs roared for her to get out of the house. But her body remained fixed, locked, staring into that dark pool of madness that waited in the adjoining room.

If she ran now, if she left this family to the mercies of whatever entity it was that had found its way into their home, then she’d be no better than the diamond dogs or griffons. Whatever it was, she refused to abandon the zebras. She refused to let anypony else suffer.

Beneath the tentacles the floorboards began to wither, a vivid purple-black mold creeping towards her.

Slowly, she tried to edge a little closer towards the terrified family, and again her hooves refused to move. The shifting emerald eyes held her fast in a vice tight grip.

Along the edges of perception she could see the madness squirming into her soul. See the tendrils beginning to borrow into her, even as they slid back into the emptiness held in the doorway.

Trying to close her eyes proved as useless. She didn’t even blink.

Sweetie’s heart quickened.

She was trapped, just like the adults. Trapped in the many eyed emerald gaze.

She tried to open her mouth, to tell the fools to get out of the house again. But her jaw was locked in place.

Fuming at her own stupidity, Sweetie’s mind raced. There had to be some way to break the spell and strip the invisible shackles holding her in place. Even her magic refused her command, slipping out of her grasp like oil.

In the distance the bells tolled for dinner.

Sweetie’s eyes would have widened. She’d been standing there for hours, at least. With all her might she struggled to move, to so much as twitch an ear, but her body had become divorced of her will. Imprisoned by the creature, forced to watch as it slinked closer and closer as the weak beam of light retreated.

Day began to dim as Sol set and night claimed the disc, and still Sweetie could not move.

And the creature began to move its ponderous, hulking mass out of the shadowy morass in the other room.

This couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be how she died. Held by some some alien magic, trapped like a fly in a spiderweb.

There was still so much she had to do.

So many she had to…

‘Punish’ seethed an alien thought, crushing all others with an impossible weight. ‘There are so many who wronged you who need to be punished for their transgressions.’

Stoked by the thundering thoughts, the angry flames in her soul burned higher and higher.

‘There is One who can help you. Who can lay bare all who have stolen from you, flayed your heart and ruined all that was best in life. The ones who took her. Who stole away Rarity. Made her fall, body and mind broken, into the deepest pits of creation. They who pushed her into that chasm of despair and death.’

Within the darkness the mass squirmed with excitement, its many eyes piercing deeper and deeper into Sweetie’s being.

‘Say Her name, and She will grant your greatest desires.’

Silent roars echoed in her head as she warred with her limbs to move. For her magic to come to her call. Only her heart answered, racing faster and faster.

‘Call to Her, and she will answer. What else do you have left to lose? What more can the supposed gods take from you as penance?’

Images of Apple Bloom and Scootaloo flared with a burst of deep dread. She needed to get away from the beast for their sake. They needed her protection.

‘And when they too are gone, what will you have left but the pain and rage poured into you by the uncaring gods? She can take away that Wrath, if you would only let her into your heart. She is patient, and will wait, and will always be there for you when you need Her, Sweetie Delilah Belle.’

The door to the hovel burst open, and in swept a tawny blur. The thing in the dark screeched, its voice ripping through Sweetie like acide dripped claws. She scrunched her eyes shut and fell forward onto her knees as the scream echoed through every fibre of her being. And then she was being grabbed by the mane and dragged out of the hovel, the zebras family scramble after her.

Unceremoniously dumped into the alley, Sweetie looked up to thank her savour, and found it was Queen Hydrosia towering over her, a sneer on her glistening beak, red eyes aflame with loathing contempt.

“This is where you’ve been? Playing with some sort of mind-slaver?” the griffon queen spat, eyes barely flickering towards the zebras before returning to Sweetie. “Trying to save more of the cattle, but unable to save yourself. How… pathetic.”

“W-what is that thing?” Sweetie gasped, trying to get to her hooves. Her entire body shook with exhaustion and a deep, simmering rage at being rescued by a the fallen queen.

Hydrosia shrugged, drumming her talons on the wet stones, glaring at Sweetie as she would a stain on a favourite dress. “A demon of some kind? Something else? Does it even matter? Several such monsters seem to have made my city their new home. You would do well never to leave the safety of the castle or its towers again. I am more than some errand chick to be sent to find a wayward pony.”

Folding her ears back, Sweetie bristled at the queen’s callous indifference. But, what else could she expect from an undead griffon?

Long, black tongue licking her beak, Hydrosia lifted her glare from Sweetie and fixed her sight on the huddled zebras.

“No!” Sweetie put herself between the undead queen and the trembling zebras. “I will not let you hurt them.”

Shrugging, Hydrosia flipped her talons. “We’ll see, we’ll see.”

A protective bubble surrounded the group as they were lead back to the castle. There was no physical shell, but it was there, the other creatures of the city parting around them like they were traveling in the eye of a storm. Ghouls and ghasts licked their chops with unnatural tongues, but dared not approach.

Leaving them at the gates, Hydrosia returned to the tower she and her former court had claimed as their haunt.

After leaving the zebras with the other survivors to get blankets and some warm food, Sweetie went in search of her friends. Barely more than a few dozen zebras and a couple older ponies milled about the long entrance hall, huddling near the fireplaces and staying away from the boarded up windows. The kitchens still operated, but much of the castle had been rendered inaccessible in Twilight and Hades’ brief confrontation. Even with space a premium, nopony dared venture into the Great Hall where Hades resided in melancholy splendor.

As she was grabbing a piece of bread and some soup, Sweetie noticed Soir picking her way through the hallway.

“Salut,” Soir called, her voice far too cheerful for the gloomy atmosphere. “Votre ami a des difficultés.”

Putting her bowl down, Sweetie asked, “Which friend? Is it Scoots? Is she hurt?” When she received a blank look in response, she repeated the questions in Prench.

“Oui. Scootaloo, uh, sad. Tres sad.” Soir scrunched up her face, injecting about all her Equestrian.

Sweetie was a little thankful that Rarity had insisted she learn Prench. Otherwise Soir would have been entirely isolated, and they’d have had no knowledge of Hades intentions, or reasons for coming to Southstone. As it was, they didn’t have much of an idea, Soir only able to provide guesses at best.

Yet, Soir continued to have faith that Hades was doing the right thing, though how cursing an entire city and generation could be considered ‘right’ eluded everypony else.

For his part, Hades spoke to nopony else but Soir, and only sparingly at that. The rest of the time he sat on his throne staring into the hole Twilight had left in the Great Hall with a distant gaze.

To her surprise, Sweetie wasn’t taken to the former slaves’ quarters, but rather to the Great Hall. Inside, Scootaloo sat on the steps leading up to the throne, Apple Bloom next to her trying to provide comfort. Hades stood near a window, looking out at the countryside beyond the mountain slopes. The scene stiffened Sweetie’s spine and sent a twitch down her tail.

Scootaloo was rocking back and forth, legs tucked up against her chest and wings snapping at odd intervals like she was trying to shake them dry but couldn’t. She addressed Hades in a quivering voice, one broken by frightened sobs. “What if she’s dead too! What if this city got her as well?! You have to f-find Sweetie!”

Hades didn’t respond, if he heard her at all.

Clearing her throat, Sweetie tried to casually trot to her friends. Apple Bloom brightened with a relieved smile, while Scootaloo looked as if seeing a ghost. Pushing herself up, Scootaloo rushed to Sweetie, grabbing her in a crushing hug. Head buried in Sweetie’s mane, Scootaloo shook with silent sobs.

“It’s okay, Scoots. I’m back. Just got, uh, stuck in a house down in the Middle Ward for a while. Nothing I couldn’t manage.” Sweetie pointedly kept out the fact she needed rescuing. Tenderly, she patted Scootaloo on the withers and stroked her neck.

Ear flicking in her direction, Hades turned towards Sweetie with a deep frown, as if he was well aware of her omissions.

Ignoring the bleak alicorn, Sweetie asked, “What’s wrong? You can tell me anything.”

Scootaloo trembled, and took her time to speak. Her mouth opened and closed. She began, stuttered, and then fell silent several times. Words tangled in Scootaloo’s throat, and each time she held Sweetie tighter.

All Sweetie could do was wait, and be strong.

Eventually, Scootaloo managed to whisper, “I c-can’t stop seeing their f-faces. All their faces. The diamond dogs. The g-griffons. Every time I close my eyes they are there. And then you went missing. And… and… I kept thinking that you were gone too, and picturing you like them. Dead. And… I want to go home. I want my moms.”

“I know. I know.” Sweetie patted Scootaloo on the withers. “We all want our mothers.”

Looking over, Hades’ expression hardened, sharp as flint and just as cold. Sweetie returned his look with one just as frosty. Leaving his vigil, he crossed the room silently while Scootaloo repeated her plaintive whimpers. He reached out with a wingtip, touching Scootaloo on the brow. Sweetie groped for Durandel as Scootaloo sagged into her, all strength gone from her friend.

“What did you do to her?” Sweetie and Apple Bloom demanded together.

“I gave her peace, if for a time,” Hades responded, lifting the limp filly in his aura as he summoned a thane. “Return her home,” he commanded, and to Sweetie and Apple Bloom he said, “You may join your friend. This is no place for mortals, and I should have sent you away long ago. Go. Go and be with your families.”

“Wait, that is it?” Sweetie demanded, incensed at Hades unexpected offer. “You think you can just wave a wing and everything will go back to normal? What about all the griffons you killed? All the zebras? Everypony you hurt when you cursed this city? You can’t undo that!”

Hades scowled through his lanky, ghostly mane. “They were punished for consorting with demons. A punishment your own gods should have meted out long ago. As you have gathered those exempt from my judgement, I will grant them safe passage to their homelands.”

“And how many did I miss? How many died because of you?”

“Seven hundred and fifty-three,” Hades replied without hesitation, sweeping past her with continued indifference. “All told, a far lesser number than I’d initially estimated. You look surprised, but I am well aware of the consequences to my actions, miss Belle. Take pleasure, you have saved everyone that could be saved.”

Aghast, Sweetie looked between the thane, Scootaloo draped across his thin back, Apple Bloom already beside them, and Hades. Soir also vacillated between the thane and Hades, lower lip caught between her teeth.

“What? That’s it?” Sweetie shrieked, chest heaving as anger exploded from her. “If you know exactly how many died, then you must of been able to help!”

“As I’ve told Soir plenty of times, you mortals live but fleeting lives, and wander my city for ages. Death is the natural state of your kind, not life.” No anger came from Hades. He spoke as all adults spoke to a petulant foal, with an infuriating sort of exasperation.

Hearing her name, Soir came closer, eyeing Sweetie warily. “De quoi parles-tu?”

“We are talking about how this cowardly excuse for an alicorn hides here instead of fixing the messes he makes.”

Flipping a hoof at Sweetie, Hades said, “Elle est en colère, je laisse les gen mourir.”

“Or course I am angry you didn’t help them!”

“It is not my duty to help them!” Emotion at last inflected Hades voice, his eyes pinching in the corners as he loomed over Sweetie. “And I will not be questioned by a mortal foal.”

To Sweetie’s astonishment, she wasn’t afraid of Hades. He could kill her in an instant as casually as stepping on an ant, but that didn’t bother her. If anything she welcomed it. An end to the guilt, to the nightmares, to the despair. To the frothing rage in her gut.

He wouldn’t harm her, however. It wasn’t his ‘duty’ to punish the merely insolent, afterall.

Pressing her advantage, Sweetie stepped closer to Hades, head craned back to look him in the eyes. “Your duty is to help keep life flowing. Tartarus is where bad ponies and the faithless go to be cleansed so they can start their next lives free of all their previous mistakes. Just because we never knew about you doesn’t mean we were ignorant of everything about death. How is cursing a city and killing all these griffons and zebras your duty, oh great God of the Dead?”

She was pushing him perhaps too far. A few steps away, Apple Bloom and Soir were both deathly silent. One by choice as she waited for a response, too scared or too awed to add anything to the argument. The other having little idea what was being said, and scrunching up her face as it continued in a language she hardly understood.

Cold disdain twisted Hades’ face, and then as quick as it came was banished. A deep chuckle rattled in his throat like the toss of bone dice.

“You are a very brave pony, miss Belle. I see what attracted Faust’s attention to you. I am demonkind’s jailer, and it is every god’s duty to return them to the hells beneath Tartarus should they manage to escape, as agreed upon at the beginning of Time. The gods of this disc have been negligent.”

Any further arguing came to a sudden halt as Talona skipped in through the main door, singing a nonsensical ditty. “There is an army outside the city,” she declared happily. Everypony stared at her a moment in shock, and then the first discordant boom of the zebrican bombards rolled up to the castle, deceptively soft over so many miles.

Hades took the announcement with a stoic weariness, returning to and slumping onto his throne. “You mortals are truly amazing,” he sighed, “Where an alicorn fails you think to send an army. I will not even need to raise a hoof. My city will do all the work of driving this nuisance away.”

Sweetie chewed on the inside of her mouth, both appalled and enraged at the callous disregard for life. Any further arguing was pointless. Spinning on her hooves, she started to march away. She’d made it part-way down the hallway adjoining the throne room when she was called to stop.

“Where are you going?” Apple Bloom demanded, skidding to a stop in the wide doorway. She hovered there, clearly reluctant to follow any further.

“There are a bunch of ponies who don’t know what they are prancing into,” Sweetie answered. “Somepony has to tell them to stay away from this place.”

Apple Bloom slid her mouth shut, sighed, and nodded her head in understanding.

“Princess Twilight, where are you? Why haven’t you come back? We need you,” Apple Bloom whispered. It was a sentiment Sweetie no longer shared.

Shifting Durandel at her side, she said, “We don’t need the help of cowardly alicorns.”

Author's Note

Author’s Notes:

Keeping a running tally of all the mangled french in this chapter. Some of these may have been altered during edits. I was less than diligent at keeping track…

J’ai peur; I am afraid.

Salut; Hello

Votre ami a des difficultés; Your friend is having a rough time.

De quoi parles-tu?; What are you talking about?

Elle est en colère, je laisse les gen mourir.; She is angry I let people die.

Je ne connais pas le sort pour le teleporter!; I do not know the spell to teleport!

The song Fleur sings is heavily inspired and uses as its structural framework Erutan’s Day of Destiny. Her song helped get me over a malaise with my writing. I was stuck for a while with the chapter nearly done, but with no drive to continue. It helped kick-start inspiration, several times now in fact. And yet it was very nearly cut during the editing process. Despite my continued admittance at being bad at songs, they have become rather common over the last few chapters. I’m fairly confident that this will be the last one in the story. I can’t see any place where another would be appropriate with the bulk of the remaining chapters being action based.

This chapter took much longer to get ready owing to a big heap of real life difficulties. For the past five months my home situation has been far less than ideal. My writing has taken a real nose-dive as a result. The next chapter is already written, thankfully, but all work on subsequent chapters has hit a wall.

I'm having difficulty thinking what else to say about this chapter. Haven't even given it the usual last minute read through. Um, Gilda was nearly cut to be turned into a PoV scene, but nothing worked out and the original version was returned. Hopefully things will settle down at last end of May, and I'll get back into writing.

Book Two: Chapter Nineteen: Sojourn of the Stars

Myths and Birthrights

By Tundara

Book Two: Duty and Dreams

Chapter Nineteen: Sojourn of the Stars

The route back to Ioka was indirect, at best.

Shyara led Twilight to a distant corner of her realm. Pockets of devastation dotted the journey like pimpled pox scars, each reminding Twilight of the dangers she had to shield her little ponies against. The ferocity of a mad star, twisted into a beast with the sole purpose of fighting the alicorns left a hollow feeling in Twilight’s stomach. Shyara wobbled in her flight, wings unsteady where Thuban had managed to wound her, giving testament to the resilience of even a newly Awakened alicorn. Twilight had difficulty imagining any single pony being able to wage such a battle and win.

And, if a town, or nation, was caught in the middle… Images of Southern Prance as seen by the stars, and the battle waged between Faust and Zeus crept upwards.

Her heart lingered, battered as if it were a ship in a storm, coiling fears through her stomach. She hardly saw the raised platform that marked where Shyara first set hoof in the Endless Library. It were like she were an observer on the outside, aware of events, but not fully engaged with them.

The platform was a large circle, over a hundred pony-lengths from edge to edge, and surrounded by dozens of archways. Some of the archways were placed on additionally raised edges, or in a sunken, little dip. Stairs lead up to the platform from the rest of the library, but not to the arches themselves. Runes covered the archways, and Twilight could have at another time spent days just sitting there, pondering their functions.

Focused on the plight of her little ponies, Twilight hardly glanced in the runes direction as Shyara opened a gateway to another world.

It was not Ioka the stepped onto, but the Midway-Garden of Roads. Here the destruction caused by Shyara and Thuban was greater still, the damage more lasting where the gardens keepers were missing, if it ever had any.

Here again was a place Twilight could have studied for years on years, and yet she barely lifted her head to glance about.

Winding her way through the garden, following deserted trails and roads, Shyara at first seemed lost. Impatience prickled along the nape of Twilight’s neck.

“This is a little more difficult,” Shyara said just as Twilight was about to snap. “I had the hemmravn bring me every scrap of knowledge on this place. It was what I was reading when you arrived, point-of-fact. Intent and intuition are paramount in this place. The roadways shift and doors move from time to time. The alicorns who used to tend to this place have all been destroyed, and without them, it tends to grow in odd patterns.”

“If all these are doorways, why don’t we just pick one?” Twilight flipped her wing at a rather plain arch.

“Because, not all of them return to Ioka, and most are locked regardless,” Shyara said as if that explained everything.

Passing by a large, fountain square, Shyara stopped, and then back-tracked. Her eye narrowed behind her veil, and then she quipped, “Here we go.” She limp-skipped ahead to one of the many archways filling the gardens.

It was a crumbling thing, cracks running through columns made of blocky stones. Dark moss covered one face, while the other was blackened as if from a fire.

Tenderly, Shyara traced her good wing down the cold stone. Stiffening, she hissed, “Here it is. This will take us back to Ioka.”

Twilight missed what Shyara did next, the smaller alicorn leaning in and whispering something to the rune-inscribed stones. An inky veil unfolded in the breadth of the arch’s arms, and through it came the scent of flowers on a damp, chilly breeze. Without waiting, Twilight cantered through the gateway.

Her fur tingled, and then she stood in the ruined hall of some castle. At first she assumed she’d been transported to the Castle of the Sisters, but the rotten decor was all wrong, as were the small, slate grey stones that littered the ground. A heavy scent of spent magic lingered in the air, like morning dew in a field. Turning around revealed a great gouge torn through the side of the hall, framing distant mountains beyond rolling forests. The tops of the trees were missing in a line leading towards a gouge in the side of a mountain.

“I know this place,” Twilight whispered through tight lips.

Glancing down revealed a dark patch, a shadow seared into the ground where something horrific had died. Where the doshaa was slain. The flagstones themselves wounded by its corrupted blood.

“Trixie died right there,” Shyara spoke softly, her voice cracking with sadness. “She was mother’s champion, and that made her your champion too. Through your blessing she channelled the powers to destroy a greater demon, but it cost her life in the process. Perhaps that is why you know of this place.”

“No… I saw it. Was shown it by Leviathan,” Twilight replied in a slight daze. She moved over to a spot to the side. A dark red stain marred the stones where… “My biological father was killed here because I failed to protect him, you, and Trixie.”

Tension tightened the edges of Twilight’s jaw.

What had been a day of relative success continued to blacken in her estimation. Leviathan had been correct about everything. About how she’d failed everypony.

Well, she wasn’t going to fail this time.

A tug at the edges of her mind reminded her that time waited for no pony. Beyond the mountains Sol was barely a sliver, the velveteen tapestry of night beginning to stretch across the heavens. Blinding light hidden above the ocean of her magic, the stars were decidedly not where the should have been.

Momentary panic gripped her, and with a mental sweep of her wings she returned her stars to the heavens, where they belonged, and where they would soon be joined by their long fallen sisters.

Their return was none too soon, as Polaris’ glimmering light appeared in the sky at the same instant the last of Sol’s light blinked into darkness. For perhaps the first and only time, the ponies of the disc remained utterly unaware of any of the upheavals occuring overhead. Only a few of the more ardent astrologers and astronomers noticed a new star in the heavens. Home with her sisters, Thuban reclaimed her rightful place among the constellation Draco.

A relieved sigh hissing between her teeth, Twilight turned her attention towards finding her stars. She trotted to the hole in the wall, the ground dropping away down a steep incline. Pausing only for a moment to contemplate the lingering traces of her own magic permeating the ruins, Twilight took to the sky.

Twisting up over the hilltop, she cast her gaze far and wide in search of a clue as to where to go. Twilight had never been to West Equestria. In truth, it looked just the same as the Heartlands. Rolling hills with tended woods interspersed by wild forests. Cleared fields surrounded the towns. Here and there a castle, relics of the War of the Sun and Moon, half collapsed and left as ruined monuments to a war nopony wished to remember. During that long-ago conflict these had been the wild frontiers, now the land had been settled for centuries, with little to distinguish it from the rest of Equestria but for a few architectural quirks and local accents.

Paying the village a short distance away little attention, Twilight was drawn towards a pond in a field on the other side of a short woods. Away from the ruins, another source of familiar raw magic tingled across her wings. It was her own magic, but turned inside out and scattered. Necrotic motes mingled in with purer strands of aether, giving the air a sickly taste.

Landing next to the monument at the pond’s edge, Twilight buttressed her heart against the foulness crawling through the earth and air. Given time, this would become a terrible place. The land would sicken and die, the air would become a poisonous vapour choking in the throat. It was like standing before a forlorn, untended grave. Her grave.

Upper lip curling, Twilight fully understood what Hades meant when he said she was already dead. She’d died here. Somehow.

Unlike with Thuban there was no body, no focal point, she could use to gather the stray threads of aether. She wasn’t even certain such a method would work. Aether and souls were different things, though closely woven.

Fanning out her wings, she attempted to to gather the aether as she’d done with Thuban, but there was no broken chains with which to follow, to use as a vector around which Astraea’s shattered soul could be gathered. In the end magic swirled, unnatural winds howled through the trees and grass, turning the pond’s still surface into turbid waves, but nothing more happened.

Her next dozen attempts and methodological revisions all produced identically null results.

It was going to take some time and experimentation to discover a method to recover the missing half of her soul. Time was one of the few things in short supply. Now she was back on Ioka, she could hear the lamentations of the mothers who’d had their daughters stolen. They cried out to Celestia, Luna, Cadence, and to her in a constant, buzzing humm in the corners of her ear.

For their sakes, she had to heal herself. She had to reclaim this missing piece.

Night turned to day, and still Twilight remained stuck.

No matter what she attempted, the ‘soul’ portion of the aether refused her touch. The aether itself could be manipulated, but it was just aether. Raw. Wild. And tainted with sadness and fear.

It was not what she needed.

Twilight growled in frustration and stamped her hoof at the end of the second unproductive day.

“Perhaps it can’t be done,” Shyara suggested. She’d summoned her throne-turned-lounge of books, and lay curled beneath a blanket of sapphire dark wool. Propping her chin on her good hoof, with a scroll floating in front of her, she hardly glanced in Twilight’s direction since it became apparent that nothing was going to be accomplished. “Maybe you are not Astraea after-all.”

“No, she and I are connected.” Twilight tapped the bare stone ground. “I just can’t get a grasp of the missing part of me. Every time it slips through my aura like I’m trying to pick up water with my hooves.”

“Maybe that is because mother is at the bottom of the pond.” Shyara rolled down the scroll to the next section.

Blinking a few times, Twilight snapped, “Why didn’t you tell me that days ago?”

“I thought you’d know just being here,” Shyara shot back, snapping her scroll shut with an angry snort.

Ignoring Shyara’s snide remark, Twilight focused on the pond itself, rather than the aether in the air and earth. As with previous attempts, the pond refused to give up its secrets. Stepping to the pond’s edge, she tried again. Her hoof sank into the soft loamy ground, and then ice shot up her leg. Eyes widening in surprise, concentration broken, Twilight let out a nicker and back away a few steps.

There was no reason for the water to be so cold. The pond was fed by a small, babbling brook and seasonal rains, rather than some glacier stream. Given its size and apparent depth, the pond should have been refreshingly cool.

June had come, and with it the long days had turned sticky with growing heat. The sky was perfectly clear, not a cloud in sight, Sol’s rays feeding the last remaining days of a glorious spring. In a few short weeks it would be time for the Summer Sun Celebration.

Cautiously, she approached again, this time focusing on her hooves rather than attempting to gather any stray aether.

“What happened?” Shyara stretched half off her couch.

Waving for Shyara to stay put, Twilight waded out into the water. Unnatural chills pierced deep into her legs. It was identical to the day she’d encountered Astraea’s shade in the library all those months ago. A leaching, sucking force that drained her of energy and will. Only, this time she knew how to ward off the intrusion.

“Wait there,” Twilight called over to Shyara, and then she plunged into the frosty waters.

Shimmering veils broke through the ponds surface leaving Twilight in a world separate from any other. Sapphire blues and murky greens swirled around Twilight as she used her wings to descend to the bottom of the pond. Leaves and small sticks floated behind her, caught up in her wake.

At the very bottom of the pond, just as Shyara had said, lay the remains of Astraea. Torn in two, the shade had transformed into a pair of jagged violet crystals. Sheer sides created a multifaceted mirror, strands of light bouncing through the unsettled pond. From them leaked the aether Twilight had been trying to collect.

Floating closer, Twilight was confronted by her reflection. No ordinary mirror, the crystals showed a thin, bordering on emaciated mare. If not for the water, Twilight would have gasped. It wasn’t that she was missing any part, per se, it was more that she was threadbare, like canvas stretched over a large from. Or some comparison of butter and bread.

At least, that was the implication of what the crystal showed.

It could easily have been that the image was Astraea herself, woken by Twilight’s presence. Doubt that this was the case prickled at Twilight. Something told her that what she saw was indeed herself.

Much the same as what had become of Authea, only larger in size, Astraea’s soul crystal beckoned for Twilight to approach. Ready in case some semblance of sentience remained in the reflective facets, Twilight drifted close enough to lay her hoof on the nearer shard.

A jolt dug into the frog of her hoof, followed by a deeper tingle along the contours of what made her ‘Twilight’. Whatever remained of Astraea rushed forth, drawn along the physical connection. And with it came a sense of relief, of hope, and a myriad other disjointed emotions. But, no memories. No guiding wing giving them shape or form. Just simple remnants of a dead goddess.

Strongest among these fragments were two paired final regrets, one of failure to protect those she’d sworn to watch over, and the other a last surge of focused fury that ended in bitter defeat.

As the remnants mingled and merged, fusing with Twilight, rejoining that from which it had been separated there came something like a whisper. Not a true voice, but the meaning was unmistakable; ‘We were Many, and are now One, and We will never fail again. The Stars guide, watch over, and protect. We shelter the Dreams of mortalkind beneath our wings. We are the beacons of Hope. No matter the cost, We will safeguard this and every other world.’

“I promise,” Twilight said, clutching her hooves to her chest as the crystal remnants turned into silty residue, their power where it belonged.

Bursting back to the surface, Twilight rose from the pond and settled back next to the monument. The land was still sickly, but it would never become some cursed vale or haunted woods. In time it would heal.

Waving Shyara over, Twilight said, “It is done. Now to find and reclaim the missing stars.”

Tilting her head, Shyara asked, “Do you need them? You are exuding a presence comparable to Zeus. Or Hemera when angered. A queenly crown is easily within you grasp. The Queen of the Night, perhaps?”

Twilight shook her head. “I don’t want any crowns. Titles are pointless. I must return all my stars to the heavens if I am to be certain that Hades will have no power over me. Fortunately, I already know where we can find several stars. Well, Stellar Beasts, to be more precise. Come on, every minute we waste ponies are having their daughters taken away.”

Without preamble, and in a act that would have usually been considered rather rude, Twilight teleported herself and Shyara. They were on the disc, and the stars could see almost everywhere, and she could go to anyplace they saw.

Not that she needed her stars for this first teleport.

Mizar and Yildun, better known as Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, still slumbered deep in their cave in the Everfree Forest. Exactly where she’d left them a few years ago.

The titanic stellar beasts stirred at Twilight’s approach, black lips curling to revealing fangs longer than wagons. Paws the size of cottages sprouted dark black claws that carved stone as if it were warmed butter. Their nose crinkled in rage at being awakened again and the pair thundered out of the mountainside.

Standing her ground, Twilight craned her neck to stare at the mythical monsters. Behind her Shyara backed up until she was half-hidden in the thick vegetation of the Everfree.

“I’ll wait here!” called the young goddess, shrinking further behind a stout cedar as if the tree could provide protection.

Twilight absently nodded and trotted up to the Ursas.

Ursa Minor snorted, and charged around her ‘mother’. Opening her maw wide, the smaller stellar beast unleashed a roar that sounded across the forest. Flocks of birds, and the odd manticore or chimera took to the sky in fright for miles. Raising her massive paw, Ursa Minor swatted at the invader to her territory.

Twilight stood her ground, not even flinching as she was swallowed in expanding shadows nor when she was struck fully across the head and body. Compared against Leviathan’s rage or Hades’ malice, Ursa Minor’s swat was almost cute. The earth underhoof trembled and buckled, but Twilight did not. Confused, Ursa Minor glared at its paw and the pony in the shallow crater.

Confusion morphed into worry and then fear as Twilight stepped up to Ursa Minor’s thick hewed leg and laid her wing upon the twinkling starfield fur.

Touching a living stellar beast was very different than Thuban’s inert, dead form. Ursa Minor’s deepest heart was laid bare, open as a summer day window. Broken shards of a former life danced along the edges of perception. The poor creature’s fears, worries, joys, and the lasting betrayal were carved deep into her ancient soul by Nightmare Moon. With the visions came a name, Yildun the Neglected, carried on a current of sorrow.

Cupping Yildun’s soul, Twilight collected the disparate fragments and melted them into a new whole. Ursa Minor died in an explosion of light that cut through the miamsic horizon to be seen in Appleloosa a thousand miles away. Then the light and body of the great beast collapsed in on itself, sucked into a single point from which no light could emerge.

For a brief moment there was only a dead lump of cold, black diamond held between her forward spread wings. Then a flare of black and silver burst from the crystalline core, and a new heartbeat began as Yildun was reborn. Floating upwards Yildun hiccuped, and than began to dreamily orbit Twilight.

Howling with fury and loss, Ursa Major opened her maw wide and lunged.

She too died and was reborn.

Twilight stared at the spot the pair of Stellar Beasts had occupied. She shifted her gaze down to her still outstretched wings. The edges of her feathers had turned a ghostly white, as if horrified by her own actions. She’d killed another living thing, crushed them with her aura alone, leaving their final moments etched into her heart. Yes, they’d been Her stars, and as such extensions of herself. Yet, they’d also been their own individuals, with their own hopes and dreams, and now those lights had been snuffed and relit.

Instructors at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns warned their students that killing with their aura left scars on a pony. An intimate connection was formed between the unicorn and their victim, one that left wounds that could never be fully healed. It was worse in some regards than even using Dark Magic. It was why battle-magic or weapons were used when it’d have been so much easier to just strangle a victim with the mind. Even the Nightmare refused to kill in such a manner.

And now Twilight had done it. Twice.

Except, it wasn’t really killing. More like transformation. And Yildun and Mizar were extensions of herself. Sort of. And she didn’t die. No, she was very much alive. More alive than before, by her estimation.

No matter the justifications or logical reasonings, Twilight was unable to shake the sensation that what she’d done was wrong, and that she’d have to do it again.

Stepping out of the shallow crater, Twilight sent Mizar and Yildun home to the heavens. ‘Thank you,’ the stars whispered as they returned to their sisters at long last. Shyara was silent, contemplative, her eye dark behind her veil. With a slash of her horn Twilight teleported herself and Shyara towards the next stellar beast.

Had they stayed a few moments longer they would have met Celestia and Cadence, the pair spotting Twilight and Shyara for a second as they flew over the Everfree. Celestia could have called to Twilight, but momentary confusion stayed her voice at the dark maroon magic edged in black that flowed from Twilight horn, rather than her usual vibrant pink.

Collecting the remaining Stellar Beasts took the better part of a week.

Scorpius they found in the border regions between the Great Dragon Desert and Zebrica. She tried to drown Twilight in sand, dragging her into an underground burrow before Twilight restored her, and Satavis was a star once more.

Cancer, or Acubens, slumbered in a hidden inlet on the eastern edges of the Taiga. At Twilight’s approach, the crablike stellar beast scuttled across the ocean floor to escape, only to be caught as Twilight blocked the inlet with a wall of ice.

Leo prowled the hot, fetid southern jungles of the antarctic, stalking prey among the giant trees. Unlike the Ursas, Leo knew better than to charge headlong at Twilight, and lead her on a long game of cat and alicorn. False trails lead to cliffs or murky swamps, or disappeared in swift flowing rivers. For three days Leo avoided Twilight, until Twilight laid a snare of her own, and Venant was restored.

Taurus charged across the empty deserts and arid hills of Saddle Arabia, resting at night in the city ruins that had once been home to Man. Fast as the desert sirocco, Taurus fled from Twilight, smashing through anything in its path to escape. Twilight was faster still, and returned Tascheter to the heavens.

Centaurus was next closest, living in the rolling hills and grasslands inhabited by the Pegasi Hordes. The pegasi watched from their clouds as Twilight confronted Centaurus. With its celestial bow Centaurus fired arrows as large as full grown redwoods. The fight was short lived, as Twilight nullified the arrows, and reforged Alpha Centauri.

Orion alone welcomed Twilight, the giant hunter sitting alone and forlorn on an unnamed island at the disc’s edge. Shaped into man, Orion was the most feared of the stellar beasts, though far from the most powerful. Whereas the other beasts could scare away any threats, Orion was actively chased, the hunter was in turn hunted by entire towns. In sorrow, Orion sought complete solitude and a life alone. With open arms, Orion became Betelgeuse once more.

Twilight then returned to Marelantis for Pisces, whose body rested in the sunken ruins. Leviathan’s maleficent presence pervaded the deep black water, snuffing out the light and casting everything in absolute darkness. Even Twilight’s strongest spells formed illuminated no more than a couple pony lengths around her. Undersea monsters moved in the darkness, felt only in the currents that buffeted Twilight from time to time. At last, Twilight found Pisces on the slopes of the once more dormant volcano and Haftorang was restored. With her the four Watchers were at last home, and the last of the Stellar Beasts were no more.

Tracking the beasts had proved time consuming, but relatively easy. Their chains had been easier to follow, the bonds meant to connect them to Twilight still partially maintained. Even Pisces.

The stars who’d actually fallen proved far more difficult.

Some she already knew where to find, such as Samalla who’d been buried in Zerubaba. The locations of a few other fallen stars were recorded in history. Deciding to leave Samalla for later, Twilight instead returned to her foalhood home of Sparkle Manor. If anypony would have records pertaining to where the other fallen stars were entombed it would be her mama, Whisper Runes.

Twilight realised she’d made the correct choice the moment she and Shyara appeared before the manor. One of her stars was near.

Being late afternoon, the family was gathered for the most part in the gardens. Velvet and Glitterdust played croquet while the rest of the family heckled or encouraged from some shaded benches. A well placed thwack sent Glitterdust’s ball rolling, and a cheer lifted from one half of the observers, and a groan from the others. Laughing, all smiles, Glitterdust went to do a little dance at her success. She halted mid prance as her eyes met Twilights, and she froze in shock.

“Twilight, honey!” cried Glitterdust in joyous surprise. “Whatever are you doing here?”

Not answering straight away, Twilight scanned the faces of her family, drawn towards the pull of her star. Her gaze locked with that of an unfamiliar halla, though to Twilight all the halla were strangers. River didn’t shy away and stood her ground as Twilight and Shyara approached. Briefly, she considered Shyara, before returning her attention to Twilight.

“You have part of me. I need it back,” Twilight said without preamble. Time was wasting. She needed to hurry. Along the edge of the wind whispered Wynn, the former star locked in endless dreams in the sword at River’s flank.

The High Priestess of Spring didn’t balk, nor did she present her sword.

“Llallawynn be unable to give,” River stated in broken Equestrian.

“Twilight, what is this about?” Velvet asked, coming up to join the growing half-circle around Twilight. “You are supposed to be in Zebrica. Princess Celestia’s plans hinged on you portraying yourself as equal to mortals.”

Shyara scoffed, and Twilight barely clamped down on a pronounced eyeroll.

“That was a naive plan, mother, and you know it.” Twilight shook her head. “Leviathan ruined it before I’d even reached Zebrica. My mere presence attracts enemies commiserate with my own powers. The God of Dead is threatening Ioka, and has already taken the first-born fillies. It is only a matter of time before he expands his scope to encompass every mortal pony. I’m the only pony who can stop him, but to do so I need Wynn and the rest of my fallen stars.”

The joy at seeing her daughter melted from Velvet’s face as Twilight spoke. “What has happened to you? You do not sound like my Twilight.”

Snorting, Twilight stamped a hoof that shook the manor, the grounds, and the town beyond. “I am fulfilling my duty to protect everypony. Hades can control me because a part of my soul is dead. But, you probably already knew that, didn’t you, mother?”

From the lack of reaction, Twilight knew she’d hit close to the mark. If she’d been wrong Velvet would have laughed.

“On the same subject, I came here to speak with you, mama,” Twilight addressed Whisper, her second mother partially hidden behind Two-Step and Star.

“You need to know where the other stars rest,” Whisper reasoned, a space made to allow her to step forward. “I have most marked down in my notes. There are several fallen stars that remain unaccounted. Oropalla, Posey, Vana, Acumar, Tian Yuan Liu, Maia, and Zana have no mentions of where they died, only where they were last seen. Of them, Oropolla was rumoured to have been in Hackney some two centuries ago, and then disappeared, while the others were all spotted in Southern Prance, Espanya, or Trotolonia as recently as the return of Nightmare Moon, but subsequently vanished. Wait here and I’ll get my journals.”

Spinning on her back hooves, Whisper marched into the manor.

“Southern Prance?” Twilight chewed on the information, her gaze shifting back to River, and dropping to the hilt of her sword as if pulled. To herself, she mused, “That is where Faust fought Zeus. Could there be a connection?” Putting the thought aside for the moment, she said in a stronger voice, “Regardless, I require Wynn.”

Shifting so that her sword was hidden, River said, “Llallawynn be gift from Iridia. I not be giving her away. Even for you, Lady of Stars.”

Ignoring River’s protests, Twilight simply reached for the sword. A sharp flash accompanied her aura grasping Llallawynn’s hilt. Radiating violet sparks flowed across the blade as it was drawn in a ring of singing steel. Within the brilliant blue diamond set into the pommel, the gem large as an eye, Wynn’s soul swelled. Twilight gasped, the chain meant to bind her and Wynn reforming of its own accord. The pulse of a heart came from ornate crossguard, as if the pegasi whose wings swooped outwards had come alive, and gently thrummed into Twilight’s aura. Each pulse grew, and with it so too did the sparks along the blade.

Around the family Sparkle Blossoms bloomed, poking through the grass and growing as they sought the sword’s light. From the gardens and fields Twilight sensed Wynn’s presence. The former star permeated the grounds and fields beyond, her essence in the flowers House Sparkle had cultivated since settling the land so many centuries ago.

‘MMm, Mistress, it is good to feel your touch at long last,’ sighed the sword.

“I’m here to return you home.” Twilight wasn’t certain why she said what was obvious. It felt like the thing to say, given the situation.

‘Home? Yes, I should love to return to the heavens. But, what then? I can not return to watching. Too long I have waited for the chance to protect the ponies I love. I see you seek to fight a great evil, one who threatens the innocent and defenceless. Take me with you, as the star-turned-sword, as your sword, and we will cut away the danger to those we ward.’

Twilight’s nose crinkled. “I hate swords—”

‘So you hate me?’

“No!” Twilight rapidly shook her head.

‘Then it is not swords you hate, but violence,’ reasoned Wynn.

“Only if it isn’t used as a last resort.”

‘Then why do you hate me?’

“I don’t! I hate swords because they are sharp and hurt ponies!”

‘So, you hate knives too?’

“What? I don’t see—”

‘But, you must have magic that is as dangerous—if not more so—than any sword. Though, not as dangerous as me.’

“A-a few spells, yes,” Twilight’s ears flattened, and a drop of sweat trickled down her brow. “Okay, a couple dozen. No, a hundred, give or take. But that is different.”

‘I’m not certain I see how, mistress.’ Twilight was certain Wynn would have shook her head, if she’d been a pony.

“Look, none of this is important. I need all my stars back in order to stop Hades from stealing the souls of all the first-born fillies.”

‘And I am back. Once I dreamt and now I wake, mirror to desires hidden deep, aspect of who you could have been, were, and are again.’

Letting out an exasperated shriek, Twilight hurled Llallawynn into the heavens. The sword spun higher and higher, and then pierced the celestial barrier in a flash. Wynn sparkled for a moment as she rejoined her sisters. Sure, she wasn’t a proper ‘star’ at the moment, but Twilight couldn’t deny that Wynn was bound to her and alive.

“Did I miss something?” Whisper asked as she rejoined the circle gaping at Twilight. Looks of bemusement mixed with those of shock, worry, and exasperation covered the faces of her family.

“Only Twily being Twily,” Glitterdust cooed, reaching a hoof across her foster daughter’s back in order to yank her into a hug.

“But, Llallawynn!” River protested, aghast as she stared up at the sky.

“I’ll get you a new sword when I am done sending Hades packing back to Tartarus,” Twilight flicked her tail dismissively and shrugged off her mama. Putting on a cracked smile, Twilight said to Whisper, “You have the list?”

“Um, yes,” Whisper pulled out a long scroll. “Seventy stars have been mentioned throughout history, oral stories, myths, and legends as having fallen. Most fell in the Old World, naturally, with only a few in the last thousand years having fallen in Equestria. I’ve provided a map with the last known locations, and marked the optimal route to collect them.”

A bright red line zig-zagged across a map of Ioka, heading at first north, then curving east through the Crystal City, south across the Heartlands and Equestria, darting back west to the Scorched Wastes, and then due south towards the sub-continents of Mu. The line then made of long dash to the antarctic, curled around the rim until reaching Inponesia, Neighpon, Canton, and then hit a large star marked over Stalliongrad. From there it snaked back and forth across the Old Queendoms, before ending at Zerubaba.

“What is this?” Twilight indicated the star shaped mark.

“That is the home of one of my contacts, Mrs. Snih. She knows more about fallen stars than anypony else. If she has no more leads for you to follow, than nopony will.”

Twilight nodded, going over the path a second time, and stifling a small sigh. Many of the locations were near places she’d already been while hunting down the Stellar Beasts. If she’d gone home first, she’d have been far more efficient.

“Well, thank you mama,” Twilight said, rolling up the map and list, then putting them in among her other scrolls.

Turning to leave, Twilight was confronted by a round, purple face peering at her with hopeful reverence. Spike clutched at Velvet’s leg, obviously torn between running up to Twilight, and staying put. After a second he’s mouth pulled up into a smile, and he gave her a thumbs-up. A sudden compulsion overcame Twilight, and she grabbed Spike in a crushing hug, one that was joined by her many little sisters and brothers. It would have been almost impossible for her to pull away in a timely manner if Shyara hadn’t cleared her throat.

“Princess Twilight, Lord Hades?”

“Yes, of course,” Twilight released her siblings, “I’ll be home soon, I promise. Once everypony is safe.” A few manes were ruffled, and then they headed off on the next leg of their journey.

Book Two: Chapter Twenty: Sheltering Light

Myths and Birthrights

By Tundara

Book Two: Duty and Dreams

Chapter Twenty: Sheltering Light

Thanks to Whisper’s map, with its many notations, Twilight was able to get fairly close to the final resting places of her missing stars. The first few were buried in various graveyards under assumed names. The Sisters responsible for tending to the holy sites were less than pleased when Twilight appeared and began to unearth graves and pry open tombs. Silently, judgmentally, they frowned and murmured from the sidelines as she retrieved a small, hard lump of metal that were the star's hearts.

Starmetal. The fabled jet-black material used in the construction of all manner of mythical objects. Objects Twilight invariably began to collect.

Much as with Wynn, Twilight’s touch was enough to awaken the star within from their endless dreaming. There were broaches, mane-pins, collars, and more. Nearly anything imaginable by an artificer had been crafted using the heart of a dead star. One star had been turned into a set of shoes that’d been spread throughout an old earth-pony family. Another had been used to craft the binding for a spell-book of a unicorn lost to the mists of history. Jewellery was the most common, necklaces and horn-rings in particular making up nearly half of all such former stars.

Incensed with how anypony could use the heart of a fallen star to make a thing, Twilight retrieved these stars with extreme vigor. Protests by the star’s current owners were outright ignored. A couple, especially belligerent unicorns were forcibly pushed aside and bound in arcane ropes. She found her stars in vaults, resting on mantle places, in the bottoms of dusty old trunks, and hidden in the back of curio shops.

Their magical properties were even more varied, each star imbuing the items with their own unique properties. As shoes, Electra granted anypony who wore the full set unending endurance and swiftness. Qinlan’s broach allowed the wearer to turn into a gentle mist for hours at a time. If completed, a set of hairpins made from Avior could change the colours of a wearer’s coat and mane, or their entire appearance. As threads in a cloak, Phione granted perfect invisibility. Piori had become an earring that allowed one to commune with the dead. A horn-ring forged from Therionis' heart made the wearer unbeatable with magic. The binding made of Agamya granted the book infinite pages.

Shyara took great interest in Agamya’s tome, even after the star had been extracted and the enchantments became inert, the pages within now blank and their accumulated knowledge lost.

Unlike Wynn, who’d been cursed to possess the sword she'd been wielding, the process of returning these stars to the heavens was rather easy, all things considered.

Melting the starmetal into glowing orbs, Twilight crushed and poured her power through them until the star re-ignited. This was not an act of destruction but rebirth, and each star remade left Twilight feeling lightheaded and giddy. Fresh emotions from the stars poured into her. Everything they'd been in life, every hope, happiness, or bitter disappointment resonated anew through her. Tears of the deepest loss filled her eyes, unable to be shed. Ringing laughter tumbled from her throat. And, her hooves dragged with terrible weariness from the efforts of shouldering the disc's many, many burdens.

Twilight never considered herself dispassionate before. Her passions merely ran along different lines from most ponies, focused on knowledge and study until she’d met her first true friends in the Elements. Applejack, Fluttershy, Pinkie, Rainbow, and Rarity broke her out of her shell. Yet, those passions, those flights of emotion were pale in comparison to those that gripped her as she gained the stars who’d fallen by choice, who’d been lead by their hearts to leave the heavens in search of adventure, love, or duty.

All was not perfect with the stars’ retrieval, however.

The Scorched Wastes were a place few no ponies ever dared to enter. Ruins dotted the edge of a bleak, sunburnt plain flattened when Sol fell to the disc so long ago. Further in lay blasted hills separated by canyons of black glass where the land had turned into molten rivers. Wind like knives slashed anypony who ventured any further into the wastelands, shelter impossible to find. Few signs remained of the once thriving civilization that made verdant jungles their homes before their utter destruction.

Out of these wastes, where the winds blew fiercest, rose the malformed, lumpish shape of a changeling hive. At a distance it looked little more than a colossal, slate grey termite mound.

Twilight stepped out of the black winds and stared up at the hive of Queen Chrysalis with a slight grin. At long last she had found the home of one of her old enemies. Somewhere in its depths lay one of her missing stars. Unconcerned with what traps may have been lain, Twilight brazenly marched towards a set of heavy basalt doors.

Memories of her time in Canterlot’s crystal caverns at the mercy of Queen Chrysalis roiled in the back of her head. The image of Cadence, wretched with head bowed from months of neglect prowled along the edges. Poisoned, tortured, cursed, and power siphoned by a loathsome parasite, imprisoned in a cell of enchanted crystals, only a select few knew the full depths to which Cadence had been lowered.

Anger bloomed in Twilight’s chest, fueled by the stars already recovered in raging inferno, and she wrenched opened a path through the hive. Doors and walls alike were hurled out of her way. Twilight was a mare on a mission, her gaze fixed on a point where one of her broken chains lead.

Foolishly, a few bulky changelings attempted to stop her destructive descent through the hive. Little more than a casual flick was required to send the changeling guards sprawling.

Smaller changelings hissed and skittered just out of site, like shadows around the edge of light cast by a torch. Twilight’s skin crawled, and she clamped down on the urge to deal with the changelings once and for all. She wasn’t here for the pests.

As they neared the hive’s hidden depths, the changeling queen finally made her appearance.

Queen Chrysalis was a gaunt shadow of her former terrifying glory. Burnt stubs of wings created a clattering buzz against her cracked carapace. She stood with one leg partially raised, as a wounded animal would do with a maimed limb, body shaking with even that minimal effort. Holes large enough to a pony to stick their hoof through pierced once elegant legs. Sickly grey bags clung beneath her eyes, a crusty green film covering a cheek where one eye continually ran with a pussy fluid.

“So, the mighty Twilight Sparkle has finally come to finish what the so-called Princess of Love started?” Chrysalis sneered, a slight buzz at the back of her throat.

Twilight wondered if it was caused by nerves, or if it was simply her normal voice. Chrysalis certainly hadn’t sounded any different than a regular pony last time.

“You have one of my stars,” Twilight stated simply. “I am here to retrieve her.”

“A star? Here?” Chrysalis creased her nose with incredulity. “I think I would know if there was something like that in my hive.”

“Doubtful. This star has been dead a very long time.”

“Really? And what could you pos—”

“My reasons shouldn’t be your concern right now,” Twilight snapped, lips curling into the beginning of a smile. This time she had all the power. This time there was nothing Chrysalis could do to her, or to stop her.

Seeming to reach the same conclusion, the changeling Queen’s defiance slipped from her scarred face with a weary sigh. “And when you find this star, you will leave us alone?”

Twilight gave a half-hearted shrug. “I have no reason to stay, unless you are harming my little ponies, and am very busy.”

Chrysalis caught her lip beneath a fang, and gave a slight nod. “We’ve avoided ponies since the invasion failed. If you haven’t been able to tell; I am dying. You are lucky, as my daughter is far more sympathetic towards your kind. Had I a few more years, I might have been able to break her of that habit.”

Twilight let out an impatient sigh.

“Is there a point to your ramblings?”

Raising a shaking hoof to her breast in faux annoyance, Chrysalis purred, “You are the one who suggested you’d stay if we were harming ponies. I am simply trying to assure you we are not.”

Annoyance twinged in Twilight’s chest as aether alighted along her horn. A spell powerful enough to turn the entire loathsome hive into a crater formed in the back of her mind. Runes black-gold laid the base on which thrumming towers of blistering bright lattices could grow. The air around her crackled at the mere preparation of the spell’s weave, small stones lifting up around her.

Momentary surprise caught in her throat at how easily she'd reached for so destructive a spell. It was so natural. So reflexive. As if she'd done it a thousand times before. Even more shocking was how much she wanted to unleash its full, cataclysmic potential on the vile hive.

Changing the spell a little to limit its effects to Chrysalis alone, Twilight wondered why she didn’t just expunge the disc of the monster’s loathsome presence once and for all. Everypony would be better off without the parasite. The stars protected only good things, and only a true demon could be considered worse than Queen Chrysalis.

A small form darted out of the shadows to interpose itself between Twilight and Chrysalis. Trying to keep her head held high, a young changeling princess trembled on thin legs almost knocking together. From behind a lanky blue mane, her gold flecked green eyes bored into Twilight with blazing defiance.

“Leave my mother alone!” The changeling princess puffed out her chest. Twilight almost laughed at the absurdity of the little slip of a creature challenging her.

“Polyphenic, I commanded you to gather the other younglings and get as far away from the hive as possible.” Fury and disappointment in equal measure rattled in Chrysalis’ voice.

“Mother, I—”

Tapping an impatient hoof as she forcefully dissipated her unformed spell, Twilight demanded loudly, “My star?”

“Y-Yes. Right this way.” Underneath her mother’s stern glare, the young princess turned and unlocked the grand doors into the lowest reaches of the hive.

“We will have words later,” Chrysalis promised her daughter as she lead the way into the catacombs.

The upper section of the catacombs was a series of cavernous halls situated around a central burial temple. Each of these halls were filled with small alcoves containing changelings that had in some manner distinguished themselves. Usually this meant they’d performed some great feats, or especially resolute service. Most were infiltrators or praetorian guards. They were the only changelings with any opportunities to perform such acts. Only a few of the alcoves were given over to simple drones, most of whom spent their entire lives in the darkness of the hive.

Traps made of everything from pressure plates that would drop glass globes filled with acidic gasses to wards placed down by various queens filled the catacombs beyond the temple chamber. Why the changelings bothered when they were the only ones who used the catacombs briefly bothered Twilight. For an equally short moment a giddy tingle wormed up her spine as she imagined what Daring Do would have done in such a place.

The traps proved utterly ineffective against an alicorn. A sweep of her horn disabled mechanisms and shattered enchantments. It was with a sense of disappointment Twilight descended into the next section of the catacombs.

Tombs for queens stretching back into antiquity lined a narrow passage. Each was placed into a nook of sorts. Where the rulers of other societies would have had gold or worldly possessions, the changeling queens of old were buried with their favourite sources of Love. Mummified ponies, deer, buffalo, and halla lay around sarcophagi. From how the bodies lay it was evident they’d been interred alive, left to linger in the darkness until claimed by starvation. Twilight’s stomach tightened at the horrific sight.

“This is monstrous,” Twilight said in a low growl.

Anger welled higher, filling her breast and clouding the edges of vision. Focusing on the nearby star, Twilight pushed the anger down. It served no purpose being mad at the changelings. ‘Focus on what matters,’ she hissed to herself; protecting her little ponies from Hades.

Half-way along the passageway Twilight stopped.

She turned and entered an average sized tomb, utterly indistinguishable from the others they’d passed. The mummies of two ponies lay in the tomb, one small, no more than a filly, the other of a plump, older mare. Heart beating faster Twilight approached the pair.

The filly had been bound and mutilated even before death. Stubby nubs pushed against taught, dry skin where her wings had been hacked away. Special shoes were fitted over deformed hooves that would have made running almost impossible. Even her tail had been docked. Whoever she’d been, the filly had been tortured.

Nostrils flaring with revulsion, Twilight spun back to the changelings. “What is the meaning of this?” Her voice thundered through the catacombs.

“It would be one of my forebears with her favoured food slaves,” Chrysalis responded with sneering disinterest. “Odd choices, if you ask me.”

Tension ran along Twilight's jaw, a crimson haze boiling along the edges of her vision. The beginning crackle of a flame issued from the tips of her mane, and the stone about her hooves started to sizzle from building heat.

“Please, Princess Twilight, t-this isn’t who we are anymore.” Polyphenic frantically pushed herself up against the opposite wall. “We haven’t kept food slaves in generations! Honest!”

The lie was foolish, and obvious. Changelings were monsters. Of course there were ponies in the hive. There had to be. It was in the changelings’ nature. “So, if I sent some of my stars to explore this hive, they’d find only changelings?”

“Yes!” There was a bit more force behind the young princess’ voice. She obviously believed what she said, even if it were factually wrong. It had to be wrong. “Since the failed invasion, we’ve barely enough love to feed the grubs, and drones that tend them. Those four guards you encountered were all the warriors in the hive, when there used to be hundreds. We don’t have the resources to keep any prisoners.”

Chrysalis stayed silent, her expression stony.

“I can’t believe you allowed the changelings decline so far, Chrysalis.” Twilight tried to clamp down on the anger burning up her throat, but found it difficult. Confronted by her old enemy, surrounded by reminders of the horrors committed on ponykind, the sense of failure to safeguard her ponies only increased.

“Unlike me, my daughter never lies, Princess Twilight,” Chrysalis sighed, and a shadow of embarrassment crossed her face as she averted her gaze. “I am dying, and my hive is in ruins due to my errors. We barely have the strength to keep the scavengers of the Badlands away, let alone hold ponies.”

Prostrating herself before Twilight, Polyphenic emphatically pleaded, “Please, believe us! We take only small snippets of love here and there from the towns near the Badlands, and nothing more. And that love is freely given, even if given in the belief it is to a pony and not a changeling in disguise.”

Snorting, Shyara said, “I find it surprising Celestia never did anything about this hive, when she clearly destroyed the nation that used to reside here. Gaean alicorns are not so soft as to leave wounded enemies on their doorsteps.”

Letting out her building rage in a grunt, Twilight swept into the tomb, leaving the changeling princess gasping and sobbing in terror. A tiny, almost insignificant part of Twilight recoiled in horror at how she’d threatened the young princess. She’d been close—oh so close—to hurting the changeling. It would have been all too easy. The changelings would have been unable to stop her from tearing their hive down once and for all.

And then the ponies of the region would be safe from the predators.

Safe to go about their lives in peaceful ignorance of the monsters that had been lurking in the shadows.

Bending down she reached out, and laid her wing across the brow of the mummified mare. She’d grown proficient over the last week at re-igniting her missing stars. It took only moments to complete the task.

The young princess had to cover her eyes as Tali burst back to brilliant light and roiling heat. Newborn stars burned with an intensity comparable to Sol, and in the darkness of the catacombs she was all the more overwhelming. The stone began to glow, a sizzling crackle filling the otherwise silent tombs.

Dead for over a thousand years, Tali wobbled around Twilight.

‘Mistress?’ Tali whispered.

“Your sisters are waiting for you,” was all Twilight said before she swirled her mane over the star and returned her to the sky. The oppressive heat vanished with the star, leaving the area crackling as it cooled.

Edging cautiously towards Twilight, the young princess wore a cast-down expression that belonged more on an anxious puppy. “Perhaps this helps prove that not all changelings are bad?” A timid hoof was extended.

Twilight looked at the offered hoof, and then marched past the princess.

Tali’s hatred for the Changelings blazed brighter than the star herself in Twilight’s chest. It fanned her own anger, each making the other hotter; feeding, roiling, and screaming in her ears. Giving urgency to her legs and wings. Wisps of flame danced along the edges of her mane like a haunting procession of revenant ghosts.

Setting her jaw, Twilight stopped, and over her withers whispered, “Run.”

Backing away a half-step, the frightened changeling princess darted a glance between the alicorns in the depths of her hive.

“Leave Equestria, and never harm a pony again.”

Around them the hive began to shudder. Bits of mortar and stone cascaded in a building shower. Twilight could feel the key points within the hive that would, when crushed, cause the entire structure to collapse. Raw, primal forces rippled through her, compelling her to protect her little ponies. The need to safeguard her ponies burned from fur and feather in a violet plume. The princess, to her credit, refused to flee. Chrysalis was nowhere to be seen. When the queen had disappeared Twilight couldn't quite place.

Typical cowardice of a changeling. It only made Twilight more disgusted with their entire race.

“I beg you, Princess Twilight, have mercy on my hive.” The princess had to shout to be heard over the crackling energy filling the tomb. “Punish me if you must, but please, spare my brothers and sisters.”

Twilight felt as if slapped by the changeling. Jaw clenched tight and back arched, she quenched the flames raging from her heart. Between her teeth she decreed, “A month, that is the span of time until I return and tear this place down at the foundations.”

The ground stopped shaking, and the fire emanating from Twilight guttered.

She and Shyara were gone before the first proclamations of gratitude and relief were offered. Twilight’s insides twisted in a topsy-turvy tumult, like stones in a barrel rolling down a hill. Her thoughts were flustered, and refused to find stable footing for the remainder of the day and long into the night.

She was of two hearts, two minds. One growled in rumbling tones like a dragon waking to find a thief in her horde, proclaiming that the changelings were a danger to good, honest, regular ponies that could not be countenanced. No matter what the changelings promised, it was in their very nature to leach emotions from the other races. They would return, and some town, village, or family would suffer. Better to have been done with them, once and for all.

Her other half recoiled in disgust at the atrocity she’d nearly committed. How could she claim any moral authority if she willfully wiped out an entire city? It would have made her as bad as Hades.

Twilight snapped her tail like a whip.

No. She was nothing like him.

It would have been to protect her ponies. Hades acted only out of revenge and self-interest. Hatred of the changelings curled in her belly, but it hadn’t been the driving force.

Her little ponies needed her protection. That was her only goal. Her singular reason to act.

Twilight remained in an unsettled state when she arrived in the blasted lands of southern Prance.

She’d seen the damage wrought by Faust and Zeus from the heavens many times, but to be among it, to see the destruction left by a battle between alicorns, drove home the dangers unchecked power presented. Homes toppled. Landmarks shattered. Mountains reduced to rubble, and the land forever altered. Surrounded by lives devastated only further bolstered Twilight’s resolve.

Clouds of stray aether cast off by Faust and Zeus still floated through the valley, obscuring the precise location of her missing stars. She could sense them nearby in a cluster, but coming from every direction like light filtering through a fog.

Landing next to the damaged fountain in the town square where Faust confronted Zeus a month prior, Twilight looked around for a guide or local who looked knowledgeable. What she found were cringing ponies on trembling legs pressed into tight pockets. A gasp and few shrieks echoed across the square as Shyara landed next to Twilight.

“Now, this is a familiar response,” Shyara idly mused, kicking a loose chunk of stone into a pile of debris where a store once stood. “Almost makes me long for Gaea.”

“Excuse me,” a hesitant voice warbled behind Twilight. Turning about, she found her shadow falling over a soft tan mare with a bright orange mane done up in a prim bun. The mare dipped into a stiff, lopsided bow. “Jardin Reves, your Highness. Please, forgive my neighbours. Our wounds have barely begun to heal from the last time alicorns paid us a visit.”

Twilight inclined her head just a little in return. “I’m so sorry. I wish there was something I could do. A lot of ponies were hurt or,” Twilight swallowed a sudden lump in her throat, “died."

Eyes darting towards the watching crowd, Jardin leaned in to whisper, "If it isn't too bold, could you not bring the ponies back? They say you are the alicorn of Wishes, and everypony here wishes so deeply to have their loved ones back."

The request sank a dagger into Twilight's heart. "Experience has taught me that even a wish is incapable of bringing back the dead.”

“Perhaps that is for the best,” Jardin replied softly so only Twilight and Shyara could hear. “If it became known that it were possible to resurrect loved ones, many ponies would go mad in the effort of bringing them back. Now, if you’ll excuse me, why are you here?”

Around them Twilight could feel the town holding a collective breath. Her stiff smile did little to appease the crowd, and sent only a wave of further unease. Worried knickers sounded from a few throats. Putting the frightened villagers out of mind, Twilight focused all her attention on the single brave mare. “I’m looking for my missing stars. I tracked… you know where they are, don’t you?”

A glimmer of understanding brightened Jardin’s face, and she only gave a quick nod before limping between Twilight and Shyara towards a lane leading deeper into the valley. “They are this way, your Highness.”

The crowd shuffled quickly to get out of Twilight and Shyara’s path, hanging back in the town square, and only once the alicorns and their guide were out of sight did they begin to relax.

Moving further up the valley the destruction caused by Zeus and Faust lessoned. Patches of pristine forest were broken by long gashes left by spellfire. Lead up one such gash, glass crunching underhoof where stone had been super-heated, Twilight spotted the roof of an ancient manor. Through her hooves, Twilight could feel the lingering presence of Iridia, Luna, and Celestia. They’d lived here in happy times, and known some of their greatest anguish on these grounds. Specific details were lost, eroded by the long grinding passage of many years, but enough remained even through the aether cast off from Faust and Zeus to be detectable. This had been a place of great magical importance.

And then recognition hit Twilight. Her eyes widened, wings thrusting out in shock.

“This is the Manor of Dreams from the Books of Sol and Selene! Where Luna took the first steps on becoming the Nightmare. Where Iridia became the Tyrant of Winter. It was supposed to be lost and destroyed,” she said to Shyara.

Slowing down next to the ruins, Twilight laid a wing on the aged stone frame for what would have been a wonderful home, and with a push toppled it to the ground. Jardin jumped at the crashing refrain, mane standing on end. Shyara remained silent, nothing more than a passive observer.

Spite was unfamiliar to Twilight. She had trouble parsing the anger in her breast and satisfaction at seeing the last remnants of her birth mother’s old home crumble. It was only a monument to yet another failure of the alicorns. Failures she would ensure never happened again.

A short distance beyond the manor they reached a crystal glade.

Twilight’s nostrils flared as they left the trees behind and five great menhirs of crystal came into view. She could taste Algol’s magic, her fallen star’s presence pungent in its disharmonious evil.

“I should have done something about her weeks ago,” Twilight seethed, circling the haphazardly placed crystals.

Rage, revulsion, hate, despair, and betrayal battled for control of her heart.

Clamping down on all emotion, on the firestorm raging in her chest, she brought back the stars one by one. Crystal was crushed, cracked, and shattered to reveal the hardened lumps that’d been the stars’ hearts.

Tian Yuan Liu was first, then Posey, Zana, Maia, and finally Acamar was granted new life. Even after so many other stars had been revived, bringing five back in quick succession left Twilight weak, her head spinning from using so much magic in such a short time.

‘Mistress?’ Tian spoke hesitantly, almost as if afraid that her voice would break the spell.

‘It’s happened!’ crowed Zana, the star racing around her sisters. ‘The mistress has restored us! She has come and restored our sisters! Just as foretold!’

“Almost,” Twilight said with a laboured breath, guiding the stars towards the heavens. “Only four left to retrieve.”

Onward Twilight and Shyara journeyed to find Whisper’s source on the locations of the fallen stars, leaving Jardin alone to ponder what she’d just observed.

Stalliongrad was split into two cities; the pegasus half, which rested on a crescent shaped ancient cloud; and the earth-pony half, situated along a river between four hills. Airy, expansive mansions floated above tightly packed, small hovels, the two halves as divided in wealth as they were in physicality. At the very heart of the city stood an ancient tower built by the Thulesians to watch over their empire’s neighbors that pierced the clouds and acted as the center of governance.

Thulesia… Another empire from the clouded chronicles of history allowed to collapse despite to so-called protection of an alicorn. Faust had been weak, permitting herself to be distracted while the ponies about her fell into decadence at Leviathan’s temptations.

Once she was whole, Twilight would never allow such to happen again. She was close to completion. A few more stars, and she’d protect not just a single sliver of an empire, but the entire disc.

Everypony would be safe underneath her sheltering wings.

They were nearing the end of their journeys. Other than the mark for Whisper’s contact, only Samalla in Zerubaba remained. After Algol and Sirius, only a single, solitary star was lost somewhere on the disc, her resting place unknown to everypony. Twilight was certain she’d find the two living stars somewhere in Zebrica. Perhaps still in Zerubaba. That would be too convenient. Probably near Hades himself, if experience and the movements of past villains were anything to go by.

As had become rote, Twilight extended her senses to locate any nearby star. Against expectations, she sensed the steady pulse in one of her broken chains.

“Of course Whisper’s friend has the last star.” Twilight growled under her breath.

At least it solved where to find the missing star.

As Twilight circled down towards the cloud district she prodded the broken chain, and found it remarkably vibrant. Sparkles flitted along its length at her ‘touch’, where all the other chains had been dead lumps of metaphysical not-metal.

Exploring further, Twilight sensed a name and a title etched into the aetheric links.

Oropolla, the Guidepost of Winter’s Fury.

Twilight frowned, wondering what the title was about, and why this chain should be so active while the rest had been cold.

Her answers came the moment she touched down before a perfectly average Stalliongrad pegasus home and knocked on the plain blue door. She could feel her star approaching, warmth and amusement tinged with irritation delicately brushing the edges of perception like a spring breeze tickling her face.

With a harsh yank, the door was flung open, and a sharp, nasal voice demanded in Eastern Pegasi, “What is it now?”

The Guidepost of Winter’s Fury stood in the doorway, a bright green and gold bandanna holding back her mane, dark bags beneath her snowy blue eyes. She frowned upon seeing who was on her doorstep, and with a deep sigh, muttered, “Thought it would be longer before you found me. Come on in Princess. Wipe your hooves, I just finished cleaning the floors.”

Deep surprise caused Twilight to freeze for a moment before a polite cough behind her snapped her to her senses. As Twilight and Shyara entered a couple fillies darted past, barely slowing to give Oropolla a kiss on the cheek mid-point of exclaiming, “Be back later mom!”

Once out the door they spread their large wings and took off, looking back after a few seconds at the pair of alicorns as if only then realizing their presence.

The house was extraordinarily normal. Pictures of relatives on the walls, a low table with cushions in the middle of the living room, doubling it as the dining room. A countertop divided the living room from the kitchen, a fruit bowl sitting on the edge. In the pegasi fashion, there were no stairs to the upper floor, rather a balcony overhung the living room where they could fly to the bedrooms. Toys were scattered around an occupied playpen, a tiny foal no more than a few months old gazing up with huge, round eyes at the strangers.

“I know why you’re here, and no, I will not return to the heavens,” Oropolla stated, scooping up the tiny foal with one wing and depositing her on her back as she checked on the temperature of her oven. “So, you may as well turn around and go back to Equestria.”

“If you truly know why I’m here, then you know it isn’t that simple.”

“As simple as you wish it to be, Princess.” Oropolla refused to so much as look at Twilight, and instead focused on filleting a large bass.

“I need to be whole again to stop Hades! Do you know how many ponies are suffering because of him? How many lives he has ruined already?”

Slamming down her knife and almost unseating her foal, Oropolla thrust out her wings. Protesting with a long gurgle, the tiny filly wrapped her hooves in her mother’s mane. A noticeable chill descended on the room. Eyes flashing brightly, Oropolla's breath came out in a frosty mist as if it were a winter morning. “I know perhaps better than you!”

Oropolla snapped, “Follow me,” as she marched past Twilight to set her youngest back into the playpen. Without waiting to see if Twilight was following, she flew up to the third level. At first curious, Twilight’s stomach began to twist as they went to a bedroom door. She knew what awaited on the other side, though it shouldn’t have been possible.

On the bed slept a young mare, chest rising and falling slowly.

Twilight scrunched up her brow. “But, it is supposed to only be first-born daughters the thanes are attacking. You have an entire family line. Descendants living spread out across the disc.”

“From a point of view, yes,” Oropolla snorted, entering the rather cramped room. Pushing her way past a wardrobe, she sat on a simple stool and reached out a wing to brush a lock of mane away from her daughter’s face. “She is the first born of me and Cloud Skimmer, and that was obviously enough for the thanes.”

“Only if they are looking for technicalities.” Tension hardened Twilight's jaw as she stared at the comatose filly.

This filly was but one among thousands, all just like her. All stolen from their families. Locked in endless, dreamless slumber, their lives stolen by Hades. Their families tormented by him. They needed her protection. They needed her to save them.

Her heart beat faster and faster. The room began to spin about her, colours bleeding away from everything except the small figure on the bed. Twilight’s breath hitched in her throat.

Maatsheptra’s words came back, haunting in their truth, ‘My Empire comes first, even before my own foals. I hardly need inform you the weight of such responsibility.’

The weight of the disc itself pressed down on Twilight in a howling roar only she could hear formed of endless voices demanding her attention, praying for her guidance, protection, or just a comforting sign.

And then, all at once, a calm fell over her like funeral drapery. Any final, lingering doubts grew silent. The Gaean alicorns were the source of all the recent woes to befall the disc.

“What is one against millions?” The question hissed almost silently across her tongue. Louder, she said, “I will expunge Hades and all the other Gaeans. After them I will deal with the last remnants of Leviathan’s court, wherever they may be hiding. To do that I require my stars.”

Not looking up from her daughter, Oropolla sighed, and said, “I can direct you to the graves and tombs of the other Valla. That is the most I will do for you, Princess Twilight. I chose to fall, and I will do so again if you put me back into the heavens. I will keep falling until you give up. My life and my family is here, not up there.”

“Sadly, we don’t have a choice in the matter,” Twilight said keeping her gaze focused on Oropolla, and not the well lived and loved home.

If she looked at the walls or mantles, with their pictures, or the toys strewn about the floor, if she thought of the playpen tucked into the corner, she’d falter. And if she faltered, tens or hundreds of thousands would continue to suffer. More fillies than just Oropolla’s daughter had been taken by the thanes.

Oropolla set her jaw and entered a half-crouch, ready to pounce. A futile gesture.

The magic came so much easier, practice proving to make skills perfect. Oropolla lunged, an icy blade forming over her wings only to halt mid-air, held in bands of scintillating aether.

A heavy weight pressed down on Twilight. She shook her head at Oropolla as the mare struggled against ironclad bindings. “I am sorry, but I must be whole to defeat Hades and save all the fillies. The math is simple. What is one life against so many thousands?”

“I will fall! Again and again and again! Until you either grow tired or the disc cracks from my repeated landings.” Oropolla shouted between attempts to break the chains forming about her.

Twilight continued to shake her head slowly. The guilt cast curling in her heart made her voice cold as the mountaintops that touched the heavens. “No. You won’t.”

Power infused her next words, her voice becoming a low rumble that echoed across the town. “I bind you, Oropolla. I bind you to your true home. Your only home. To the Heavens I return you, and there you shall stay as the Guidepost of Winter’s Fury. Now, and until I alone decide otherwise.”

Silently, Twilight promised herself she’d release Oropolla once Hades was stopped.

In her heart of hearts, she also knew it to be a lie.

Hades would hardly be the final threat to her little ponies.

By now the process of returning a star to the heavens had become almost rote. Enough so that Twilight could close her eyes and look away as she stole another mare's freedom.

Over and over Twilight reminded herself it was for the greater good. That Oropolla was a star and therefore an extension of herself. Purposefully Twilight avoided the philosophical quandaries. At the depths of her heart, where she placed all emotion in a bottle, she knew beyond a doubt that what she was doing was wrong. Wrong, but, necessary.

Within moments nothing remained of Oropolla on the disc. In the heavens, bound in an invisible cell, Oropolla raged and shrieked, and her sisters did not come to greet her, instead casting their gazes away in shame.

Stepping out of the bedroom, the door softly closing behind her, Twilight was confronted by a wine dark mare in a mirror. She was hauntingly beautiful, troubled lines around her eyes conveying the weight on her heart. Tall, with angular features chiseled from marble. Her sparkling, dark mane fell down one side of her neck. Navy blue dress with its gold trim and rune inscribed belt hugged slender sides and narrow flanks. The image was so familiar, yet so shocking that Twilight just stared unable to recognize herself.

Eventually Twilight turned away from the judgmental mirror, and returned to the living room. There she was confronted by Shyara.

“I am returning to my realm.” The smaller alicorn tried to stand tall enough to look Twilight in the eyes, despite only barely reaching her chin. “All—”

“Good. I was going to suggest you leave as you’ve done your part,” Twilight rolled her wings in a dismissive shrug. Shyara took a quick step back, surprise flinging her eyes wide. Advancing closer, Twilight’s stretched over Shyara. “My disc is no place for outsiders any longer. After Hades I will remove any threat to my little ponies, whether they are alicorns, demons, queens, or nations. My starlight will guide them. Protect them. Shelter them. Keep them all safe. And if not all, than as many as possible. It is my duty. I am their guiding light. Now and forever more.”

Gathering the thinnest wisps of aether, Twilight vanished in a clap of distorted night. Trembling, Shyara rubbed a hock down her legs, her breath misting in the freezing room as Oropolla’s foal screamed for her mother.

“And so, it is done, Trixie. The Titan of the Stars is born, and all the disc will see her the same as you. Somehow, I thought it would be more satisfying. I wonder how this will end.” Shyara sighed, and then she too vanished.

Author's Note

Author’s Notes:

When you reach something you foreshadowed six years prior; that has been the experience writing this chapter. It has been rather surreal in some aspects, and stressful in others. Each chapter I get more and more concerned that I am going to trip at the finish line, and this chapter is one of the really big moments for Twilight.

Depending on edits, this could be a little repetitive, but I am writing my notes this time as I go, rather than the minute before actually posting the chapter. Bear with me if what I mention is also stated in the chapter that you read. Previously mentioned things in the story that have relevance;

1: That ponies use swords and spells rather than aura’s to fight because killing with an aura causes a wound on the killer. This is mentioned when Luna is teaching Fleur. It was also mentioned in Velvet Sparkle and the Queen in Stone at least once, possibly twice. Killing the stars is no exception. Twilight doesn’t know as much as she thinks on the subject, and theorizes that she is healing herself by re-absorbing the stars. Each time it wounds her more while also filling a gap. But, just because a hole is plugged, does not make the plug effective, or that it isn’t causing different problems. I hope I showed this well enough in the chapter itself.

2: Maatsheptra got inside Twilight head. Not much, and I know that I didn’t do that good a job with this particular point. Maatsheptra is one of the villains, but her role is rather sedate for the amount of time she gets in the story. Maat nudged and whispered and manipulated Twilight into doubting her choices she made during her confrontation with Leviathan. Her motivations stem from envy and pride. She can’t stand that her subjects will worship Twilight over her. Since she can’t hurt Twilight directly, she has been working with Algol for years in preparation to manipulate Twilight, and push Twilight towards falling.

3: Celestia herself noted that Twilight is inherently unstable, and wondered if it wasn’t some common aspect about alicorns associated with the Night. This was in the first ever Myths story; The Longest Night. She was only partially right, as it was the missing portion of Twilight’s soul causing her anxiety, obsessive-compulsive behavior, and bipolar illness. Recall, this is Season 1 and 2, with a smidgen of Season 3 Twilight when her issues were more pronounced, not the Twilight of the last few seasons of the show. I’ve tried to show her obsessive characteristic when it comes to knowledge, or confronting villains. Such as wanting to learn about the Marelantian runecrafting, or how she could spend eternity in the Endless Library, or being so focused on her enchanting of the tiara that she didn’t even know Applejack was in the room with her.

Shyara’s actions may seem a bit odd, but there is reasoning behind them. Shyara hates Twilight. All the anger and resentment she has for her mother, Astraea, she transferred onto Twilight, as well as adding in the mix that Twilight is not Astraea but a thief of her mother’s very soul. On top of this is the time Shyara spent with Trixie, hearing Trixie describe in very unflattering terms Twilight and the other Elements, and Trixie’s death when she channeled a portion of Twilight’s energies. Shyara is very confused and conflicted. She also closes off her emotions rather than outwardly displaying them. Even she couldn’t outright pin-point when she decided to push Twilight towards falling.

Well, there we have it. After much consideration, I've decided to put these chapters out now. Originally they were a single chapter. For ease of reading I've split it into two.

The stars and their properties were at times adhoc, and others I tried to create themes or have them do something that seemed appropriate. The Deathly Hollows stars, which should hopefully have been a rather obvious nod, were all named for stars in the constellation Orion. Phione as the cloak being Phi-1, in the head; Piori being pi1 ori in the Shield for the ring, and Therionis for Theta Orionis in the sword for the elder wand.

For those few interested, this was my music of choice while working on the edits/second draft of this chapter, and has become something of Twilight's theme for the remainder of Myths: Rory Mercury - Apostle of War, youtube link.

Book Two: Chapter Twenty-One: The War of the Summer Sun; Fleur de Lis

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duty and Dreams
Chapter Twenty: The War of the Summer Sun; Fleur de Lis

Fleur woke with a sharp gasp out of troubled dreams. Her heart thumped against her chest, racing as she had done through gilded halls beneath mosaic ceilings torn open to reveal a star studded sky. Reliving the night Athena was hurtled towards Ioka was almost becoming normal.

Stretching out the kinks of sleeping on hard earth, Fleur spared a few motes of aether to clean her coat of the dust accumulated on the road the past few days. It was all she could do to assuage her vanity before she set about girding herself for battle.

Sadly, this too was becoming normal. The barding she wore for the duel appeared along with Aegis, Pallas, and Altanairis. Gems once more bright, the tiara settled comfortably on Fleur’s brow, while shield and spear were set on her left flank. Compared to the trio of divine artifacts, her barding was haggard, torn in a couple places, and had blood on it from the duel.

She probably didn’t need the armour, but it felt good having its weight on her back. Any armourer worth his salt would have balked at the chainmail in particular. But, it was all Fleur possessed, and she wasn’t about to attempt sneaking across a plains covered in soldiers into a city of griffons unprotected.

Everypony else were also preparing for the day to come. Like Fleur, the guards donned their armour and checked their weapons. Soarin and Rainbow simply stretched, while Applejack made breakfast with Pinkie. The Elements of Harmony were accustomed to days such as this, and they never before bothered with swords, spears, shields, or barding. Not when they’d faced mad gods, dragons, or hordes of changelings.

Fleur’s respect for the famed heroines of Equestria only deepened.

Little was said during all this time. Each pony retreated deep into their own thoughts, making peace with their gods just in case. Before eating the guards bent their knees, offering prayers to Twilight and Luna.

Breakfast was a hurried affair, spoons clanking against tin bowls, food shoved into mouths with no regard for manners. As dirt was being kicked over the cooking fire the first echoes of cannon fire reached their camp.

An uncomfortable knot twisted in Fleur’s stomach. She pressed her lips tightly together, and turned to Rainbow. “This plan is most dangerous, non?”

“Ha! Just how I like it,” Rainbow responded, stretching out her wings and legs. She quickly sobered, bravado melting way as she contemplated the armies out on the field.

The griffons and their battle-slaves had repositioned in the night a little further to the west, wedging the zebras between the Southstone’s lowest walls near the mountain base and the open fields. For reasons Fleur had difficulty understanding, the griffons had forgone the advantage of flight and instead landed to form ranks. To the left, out of the zebras’ sight behind a long hillock, waited a contingent of heavy cataphracts. Something seemed off, the griffon army seeming smaller than it had the night before. Ancient trebuchets and onagers already began their bombardment. Their shots fell short, crashing down into the bare ground between the armies.

With their far greater numbers, it was possible for the zebras to maintain their siege while facing down the griffons, effectively dividing themselves into two armies. All through the night they’d bombarded the city’s lowest walls and magical defenses. Rank upon rank of soldiers marched in ordered lines to a distant drumbeat as they formed a long bulwark that stretched almost a mile across. Behind them cannons spoke in deep, punctuating booms. Smoke trails leapt skyward, arcing high into the golden glow of dawn before falling with an unearthly scream into the front ranks of the advancing griffons.

Ares would be thrilled by such a spectacle, Fleur thought, and then violently shook her head.

The battlefield was his favourite temple, and war his sermons. Gleefully he’d watch both armies searching for somepony of merit. His favour was capricious and cruel, though something all ponies of Gaea sought once they’d donned their armour, sharpened their swords, and faced each other beneath a blood soaked sun.

But, his name was not alone on the lips of desperate stallions and doomed mares. With his came his rival, Athena, the Goddess of Wisdom. Generals and commanders in particular sought her favour so they may see through the deceptions and tactics of the enemy while keeping their own hidden.

An electric chill tingled up Fleur’s spine. Her heart began to race. This was all so familiar. In a daze she stumbled a few steps towards the armies.

“Hey, you okay?” Rainbow asked catching up to Fleur.

Fleur did not answer.

Her mind was elsewhere, visiting other places and times.

Ares was the God of Slaughter, but Athena had been the Goddess of Tactics and Strategies.

The tingle along Fleur’s spine grew, and began to coalesce in her withers.

And then she heard the prayers. Griffon and zebras alike began to pray to any who was listening for protection. Ghostly whispers only, the prayers undirected and coarse in their offerings.

“Je peux les entendre,” Fleur breathed, the words cold in her mouth. “They seek guidance and protection.”

She could see now the so-called ‘dragons’ hidden behind the front ranks of spears as clearly as if she stood amongst their number. After her time on the Bellerophon, Fleur was well acquainted with the effectiveness of cannons, but she’d never thought to see them so small. What mad genius would have thought to miniaturize the lethal things and make them small enough to be held and operated by a single zebra?

The pull grew, and before Fleur knew it she was in a partial cantor. Behind her she made out Rainbow yelling for the others. Her steps slowed, the force drawing her towards the eminent battle now causing her to turn around.

Soarin glowed a soft blue, as did Twilight’s guards. A sliver of Athena’s memories sparkled in the depths of Fleur’s mind. Solemn words rose on a haunting tide from the sliver.

“Soarin, I grant you the swiftness of the diving falcon, and the might of the raging bear.”

Through her burst a sudden surge of primal energies. They swirled across the surface of her skin and then sank deeper enfusing muscle, bone, and soul. Only to turn again in search of release. Fleur grunted and collapsed to her knees as the pressure built. She had no idea how to guide or release the magic, to set it to its purpose. Trapped inside her it continued to grow until she was certain it had to burst from her like water breaking an overfilled barrel.

And then, as quick as it built, the flooding aether receded. Fleur trembled, weak and disoriented, the ground wobbly beneath her, and for a second she had a spike of fear that she was about to fall off the disc. This too passed.

Voices warbled together around her, asking if she was alright.

“Oui,” Fleur said, her voice strained. She repeated herself with a cracked smile, pushing herself back up and straightening her shoulders. “I do not know what just happened.”

“You had wings!” Pinkie enthusiastically said, bouncing up and over the others. “Big, sparkly crystally rainbow wings!”

Fleur blinked a couple times, unsure how to respond. She glanced over her shoulders, but saw no wings, crystal or otherwise.

“She is telling the truth,” Applejack said, her tone far more restrained and worried. “You sure you are alright? This kind o’ thing, on top of what happened during that darn awful duel, ain’t good. Celestia’s mane, take it from somepony whose been through a few magical calamities and such, this is troubling.”

“I…” Fleur’s voice trailed off.

It was stupid to claim she was fine. Of course that was a lie. She was terrified, completely out of her depth, and knew what was happening could only destroy everything she’d held dear. Whether she survived or not was immateriel.

Athena was gone, but not so her power, evidently.

Standing up straighter, as if she were a guardsmare at inspection, Fleur said, “It will be as Faust has seen. I will…” She struggled for a moment for the word she needed. “Survive.”

Applejack stared at Fleur a few seconds longer, then shook her head. “It’s a good thing you’re staying put here. Hate for you to have another episode anywhere down there. Soarin and Rainbow can get Pinkie and me in and out of that place quicker than lassoing a sleeping unicorn.”

Stung, Fleur couldn’t help but mutely nod.

“Still think this is a bad idea,” Soarin muttered to Applejack just loud enough to be heard by the others. “If something goes wrong—”

“That’s why they’re staying put,” Applejack tilted her head towards Fleur and the four members of the Twilight Guard. “You and Rainbow can’t carry everypony, and there ain’t no way were sneaking across that on hoof.” With a stab of her hoof Applejack indicated the soldier covered fields.

“Come on Soarin, you’re not afraid I am going to outfly you or something?” Rainbow grinned wide as a wildcat who just saw a fat mouse.

Soarin scoffed in return.

It was the wisest choice having the slower, less experienced non-fliers stay behind. The Elements of Harmony were in their, well, element. They’d faced mad-gods and armies before, and despite the minor hiccup at Cadence’s wedding, had always come out unscathed from their encounters.

Though, if Fleur was being honest, how much of that had to do with some combination of skill, luck, and Faust herself secretly looking out for the group?

Skill the three mares had, that was without doubt.

But luck was fickle, and as for Faust… Well, she’d recently died and reincarnated. Who knew if her blessings could be relied upon anymore.

Worry gnawed at Fleur, sending her stomach in to a tumble of doubts.

She took to pacing, strutting the length of the low rise, watching as the armies continued their slow advances. The Elements went through their final preparations, and still Fleur could come up with no better plans. She was certain that Athena would have seen the flaws obscured to her, and wished the goddess would return, give them the guidance they so sorely required. But Athena was well and truly dead, what remained of her essence gone, scattered, or fused in some ephemeral manner to Fleur herself. Maybe if she could access those scraps of power as she’d done, ever so briefly in the duel, then Fleur would have found the answers she sought.

Scouring her brain, she tried to figure out what it was that had called on those residual scraps of Athena’s power. Something about the battle called to Athena’s remnants like the song of a forlorn lover. A sad song pulled from strained cords of a lonely violin. It danced in her breast, caressed by the gentle morning breeze that blew away the dew. In a few hours that same breeze would carry the heady mixture of metallic tang and sorrows unabated.

“The griffons march to their deaths,” she sighed, and shook her head.

Even after the Elements departed she continued to pace and worry and hope for salvation that wasn’t coming.

Rainbow and Soarin had waited until the front ranks of the armies became locked together. With both sides preoccupied with each other, a pair of pegasi could slip past undetected.

At least, that was the theory.

She tracked them until a flurry of commotion of the western flanks of the armies yanked away her attention. A large force of griffon cataphracts flowed from between two low hills in a deadly wave of sparkling steel and flapping banners. Unused to charging on the ground rather than from the air, their gate was uneven, with cracks appearing in their ranks before the first volley of fire erupted from the zebra hoof-cannoneers tore through armour and flesh. Hundreds died or were maimed. Onward they charged undaunted towards their doom. In a rippling wave they impacted against the spear-zebras. The zebras held their ground, for a moment at least.

Several points of black flame burst amongst their line, consuming dozens of lives each, and forming a sudden hole through which the cataphracts could surge. Even miles away Fleur could taste the corruptive nature of the magic. Foul, sulphuric winds coalesced in her nostrils and made her horn ache in sympathy of those who’d died so cruelly.

“The griffons have brought their magi,” said Captain Scabbard, the Royal Guardspony coming to stand beside Fleur. There was a hint a displeasure in the captain’s tone and the corner of her eyes. Like the other royal guards, she’d donned her armour and plum coloured heraldry.

None of them were at all pleased that the Elements had gone off on their own, a sour cloud hanging over the small unit.

A pang of understanding clenched in Fleur’s chest. Snorting, she scuffed a hoof against the dry packed earth. Tension rolled up her legs, and then was released in a gutteral shy. They’d been utterly superfluous except for the brief time on Marelantis. On a disc home to gods and demons, what use were a few common ponies?

Battles of such scope were rarely quick, or decided in the opening moments. The cataphracts having made a hole drove deeper into the zebras. Behind them rushed the common peasant soldier into the gap left behind their initial charge. Quickly, they were becoming trapped, bogged down by so many bodies.

For a short while the western flank dangled on a sword’s edge, able to tip towards either side at the slightest push. The heavy cataphracts continued to be bogged down. A few of the griffons near the trailing edge attempted to fly and use their greatest advantage to harry the land bound zebras, only to be hurled from the sky by short gouts of flame peppered with lead pellets tearing through soft flesh. Unarmoured wings were torn apart, and the screaming griffons crashed back to the ground. Forced to fight on the ground, the zebras far superior numbers began to build momentum.

Fleur took a few steps towards the growing slaughter.

The noise was incredible, even a mile distant from the battle. A tremendous din of raised voices, steel meeting steel, hooves trampling the earth, dying screams mixed with frenzied shouts, and all to the beating of the zebrican drums. The tempo of the drums changed, and the zebrican lines reformed in response.

Slowly at first, and then with gathering speed, the zebrican spear-zebras enfolded the bogged down cataphracts. Their heavier armour proved the griffons undoing as they were surrounded, unable to run for any period without succumbing to exhaustion, and flying impossible with the zebras new weapons keeping the skies empty. In the space of a half hour the pride of the griffon army was torn apart.

What had been a battle had become a slaughter and the fields a charnel house.

Defiant, the griffons continued the fight long after any other army would have been broken. They were a predatory race. Instincts long dormant surged with the thick smell of blood drifting over the battlefield.

Fleur could remain on the sidelines no longer. Before she was aware of what she was doing, she was half-way down the hillside in a full gallop flanked by Twilight’s guards.

At their approach a unit of zebras marching to reinforce the flanks halted at a barked command. The officers leading the two hundred zebras shared confused looks as the five ponies charged towards them. As the gap closed they ordered the soldiers to form ranks. More confusion rippled among the soldiers, but they reacted as they’d been trained.

Slowing to a quick trot as she approached, Fleur called out, “I need to speak with the general! It is a matter of utmost urgency!”

Again the officers looked at each other, uncertain about these approaching ponies. For a moment Fleur worried that they would order their soldiers to attack with those powerful new weapons. Sunlight flashed off brass muzzles pointed in her direction. Having seen first hoof the effects of a cannon, she could imagine the damage even a smaller version could cause.

At a command the soldiers shouldered their portable cannons, and a pair stepped out of line to join the officer in charge of the unit. With pair of soldiers as escorts, Fleur and the small group of guards were guided across the battlefield.

Down in the field the barks from the zebrican artillery was so much greater, as were the yells, screams, and general cacophony of battle. Keeping a quick pace, Fleur hurried her escorts towards the tents and scaffolding towers. As they neared a chorus of horns sounded from high above. Slowing, Fleur whipped her head upwards in time to see griffons, thousands of them, thousands and thousands, emerge on the edge of the clouds. Shining steel cuirasses gleamed in the sun as the griffons leapt towards the heart of the zebrican army. Too many to count, every griffon from the remaining airies descended in a shrieking silvery stream. In a cascading torrent of spears and claws they descended into the very heart of their enemy to the cries of their war-horns.

Drums beat with frenzied urgency to counter the sudden appearance of the griffon reinforcements. Breaking into five wedges, the griffons raked through the unguarded flanks and rear of the zebras. Here and there they were met by uncoordinated hoof-cannon fire. Hundreds of griffons fell, but more zebras were driven to the ground never to rise. The griffons to the west, so close to utter collapse, began to rally, throaty cheers rising from tired throats as a rush of renewed energy invigorated weary bodies.

At the trailing edge of the griffons a pair of blue-pink and orange dots dove towards the earth, chased and chasing several griffons. Down, down, down they spiraled. A griffon came close to Rainbow, and then spun away. Little lines crackled around the barrier protecting Southstone Spires as the griffon passed through it.

Fleur broke into a gallop.

She lost sight of the Elements of Harmony as they plunged into the ranks of soldiers near the cliff faces beneath the city’s lower ward.

“Please, merciful Faust, let them be safe,” Fleur prayed, wondering what use her prayers could be in the midst of such wanton cruelty and carnage.

Worry for her own safety clenched her chest as one of the wedges of griffons flew towards her. The core of the zebra army was in disarray, the supply and logistics harried, the cannons silenced by flashing talons. Zebras abandoned positions in a rout that threatened to spill over to the entire army. Griffons swooped towards the small group of colourful ponies in the midst of the chaos.

Fleur fumbled with Aegis’ straps as the griffon’s shadow fell over her. Cursing her fumbling aura, she freed the shield too late. Talons reached for her throat, a hungry glint in the griffon’s black eyes. A burst of azure magic beside Fleur struck the griffon square in the side and hurled it aside. Crashing hard, the griffon rolled a few times before coming to a limp stop.

“Go! We’ll hold them here,” Captain Scabbard shouted moments before a griffon slammed into her side. Protective spells flashed, and a heavy bang of a hoof-cannon went off almost in Fleur’s ear. The griffon on the captain was tossed away in a spray of blood and viscera. Getting back to her hooves as she fended off another griffon, the captain again shouted, “Go!”

Nodding thanks to the guards, Fleur spun and dashed deeper into the bedlam, leaving the four guards and two zebras to fend off a dozen griffons. The flashes and pops of spells were punctuated by the deeper bangs of the zebras hoof-cannons.

Wildly, Fleur flung herself through the maelstrom of battle. Here, a zebra sat in a daze, one foreleg missing below the knee. There, a griffon tried to pull himself out of a shallow crater, back legs limp and wings mangled. Above, a small cluster of griffon spun and dived with outstretched talons into a mass of white tents. They emerged moments later with a couple flailing zebras in their grip. Only to be struck from the sky by a lashing whip of ruby flames. A Dahkrit strode through the carnage, robes whipping about her legs, with her ifrit by her side. Sculpting fire as she went, the Dahkrit and her spirit-companion created a pocket within which the zebras began to rally. Fleur hardly slowed, intent on finding the command post for the zebrican general.

Ahead a sphere free of griffons was visible. Any that attempted approach was struck down by flame or hoof-cannon. A scaffold stood next to a large tent, around which a dozen drums had been placed. At the drums zebras beat frantic messages, conveying the general’s orders to the soldiers out in the field.

With Aegis held tight by her side, Fleur galloped across the battlefield. Thrice the shield intercepted swooping griffons. Talons scraped across the artifact’s aurichalcum face and with a shove the griffons were sent sprawling into the dirt. Fleur paid them little attention, focused on reaching the command post.

She needed to end the battle. Somehow.

No ideas came to mind. Even if she convinced the zebrican general to halt his advance, the griffons were not likely to co-operate. Especially now the tide had turned in their favour.

What could she say? Assuming they would even listen.

Pushing aside hopelessness, Fleur breathlessly slowed to a cantor as she reached the command post. A double ring of elite hoof-cannoneers warily watched her approach. In sequence the front row fired at a group of griffons that drew too near, and then fell back to reload while the rank behind took their place. Even without the hoof-cannons, it was unlikely the griffons could have approached the small hillock on which the post was situated. A very powerful ward tingled against Fleur’s horn and skin as mounted the final few steps. Were she more experienced, maybe she’d have known the ward’s properties, and how it was keeping the small area secure when so many griffons flew only a few hundred yards away.

The source of the spell was evident before Fleur pushed her way into the tent. The air fairly stank of dark, corruptive powers that could only belong to Algol.

Lounging on a cushion, Algol grinned at Fleur’s entrance, popped a berry into her mouth, and loudly chewed.

Next to Algol sat another pony that was both familiar, and unknown. Chains wrapped around herwhite wings and midsection. Her fiery mane was lanky and unkempt. A sprinkle of hope flickered in her sharp features at Fleur’s arrival. Something about the mare made Fleur’s gaze slip from her, and ignore her presence. Hope faded into forlorn resignation, her head sinking to stare at the space between her hooves.

Like iron filings to a magnet, Fleur was drawn towards the commotion at the center of the tent.

Several zebras stood around a large table holding a map of the battlefield, complete with little figurines for the armies. Aides took notes before running out of the tent to relay orders. Others flew in to update the map, using long handles sticks to push figurines around the map.

“Have the Twelfth and Thirteenth continue to advance on the city,” the zebra with the most ornate and decorated armour was saying. Beads of sweat trickled down a brow pinched tight with unearing concentration. “Stars damn the griffons. Abandon the field hospital and eastern batteries. The Seventh and Forty-Second are to re-organise to their south, then march back north. We’ll sweep the field clear yet. Where is Lord Halphamet and his dahkrit?”

“The Empress' Hoof carves his way towards the city still,” supplied and aide.

The general took this with a slight nod. “Good. He will manage the eastern flank. What of—?”

Just then another aide burst into the tent, and gasped, “The Sixteenth is collapsing! The cataphracts are breaking through into the center!”

Nodding stoically at the information, and began issuing a new series of orders while figurines were furiously moved. Stepping closer, Fleur noted that, according to the map, the griffons and their battle-slaves had made a hole in the center of the encirclement, and headed to join with the griffons running amok in the center of the field.

While spectacular and devastating, the appearance and charge of the reserve cataphracts into the very heart of the zebrican army had failed to break their enemy. All the zebras needed do was turn their western flank around, and the griffons would be completely encircled, again. It was a matter of who could react faster, issue the proper orders, and have their armies respond. From how the griffons were more intent on sowing personal chaos and carnage, Fleur doubted it would be they who managed to reorganise first.

Unless the chaos was a feint.

She went right up to the map, eyes flickering over its surface, taking stock of the disposition of all the forces of both armies.

Her heart sank. The griffons had lain waste to much of the zebrican artillery and logistics before slamming into the unprepared flanks of the western units. Several units were utterly destroyed, the figurines toppled on the map, leaving the rest in three large pockets engaged by three of the wedges that had emerged from the clouds as well as the remnants of the griffons initial charge. In contrast, the western side of the zebrican army had come off light. They’d fended off the southernmost wedge, and stalled the griffons momentum in the north. All while maintaining their siege.

If any additional reinforcements had come from the city in that crucial half-hour following the sweeping arrival of the griffons into the core of the zebrican army… But they hadn’t, and Fleur could find no reason as to why.

Then the answer struck her with such force her knees almost gave out beneath her.

“It seems rather greasy grey, doesn’t it,” Algol stated, making Fleur jump. “He can see it, of course. A third of his army will be dead before the remainder can properly re-organise. It is already too late. None of which matters. Something far worse approaches.” A manic smile gleamed in Algol’s unsettling eyes. The pegasus beside raised her head a little, chains rattling. “She is coming. Glorious, brilliant crimson and white! Both armies are doomed. Ah, it will be a golden to behold!”

Fleur ignored the Demonstar. She needed to focus on ending the battle as quickly as possible.

“General,” she said, starting around the table, only to be intercepted by a pair of aides. “I must speak with you!”

This caught the general’s attention. His head whipped in her direction, eyes narrowed. He took in Fleur’s armoured appearance and the spear and shield floating at her side with a snort. “And who are you to barge into my tent in the middle of a battle and demand my attention?”

Squaring her shoulders, Fleur made a very slight bow and introduced herself. The general frowned at ‘Ambassador of Prance’.

“A guest of the Empress,” he half-turned back to his maps. “What reason are you here at this crucial hour?”

“General, you need to signal a retreat!”

“Retreat? Hardly. The Empress demands we assault Southstone and put an end to the griffons aspirations now and forever. There will never be another resurgence of their rule over the disc.”

“Resurgence? Rule? Are you mad? The griffons have been crumbling for centuries!”

“And we will kick out the final, rotten supports.”

Incensed, Fleur stomped a hoof. “Thousands are dying!”

“Oh, is that all? You ponies have such weak constitutions for these matters. It is no wonder you never were able to take the fight to the griffons in their homelands.” The general dismissed Fleur with a snap of his tail, his attention refocused on the maps as he growled, “Remove her, and should she try to re-enter, have her arrested as a spy. I do not know how you got this far, but this is a matter for professionals, not some coddled foreigner.”

Fleur’s mouth fell agape as the aides began to push her back towards the exit. Over the general’s shoulder Algol sat grinning wide. Couldn’t he see that the griffons had already won? They’d destroyed any chance of the zebras withdrawing back to Zebrica without massive losses from starvation and dehydration. They’d have to leave all their wounded behind, and every moment without calling a retreat only further increased casualties. This was neither leadership nor wisdom, it was utter foolhardiness.

She dug in her hooves, body tense with anger at the abject stupidity before her. No matter how brilliantly he maneuvered his forces, the facts were unchangeable. The zebras had lost the moment the griffons descended into the middle of their support structure.

He had to be made to see the folly of pursuing the battle.

At the surface of Athena’s lingering memories drifted the solution, but not without cost. Taking all the residual strands of Athena into herself fully, bonding them to the core of her soul, and unleashing her majesty would sway the general. Athena had done it many times on Gaea, directing the choices of kings, princesses, prophets, and priests with her presence alone.

Swallowing a lump in her throat, Fleur tentatively reached towards the remnants of Athena.

“They will never see you as a mare again. You are doomed forever to be an object. Even those who call you a friend or lover today will find you a to be an idol of worship tomorrow. It is the way of ponies to put the powerful on pedestals, and then demand the objects of their adoration be forever perfect and pristine,” said Algol from her cushion.

Fleur hesitated, unable to fully reject her old life. If she embraced Athena’s power, she knew what would happen to her. She knew there would be no going back. It would become part of her, for good or ill, forevermore. And forever it would perhaps be.

She was not ready to discard her mortality.

As she hovered in indecision, there was a silent bang and a cascading gust of light washed over the tent. Algol tensed, ears perked, and a wide grin began to blossom.

A page came rushing into the tent, ignoring the faceoff between pony and zebras. “Lord Halphamet reports; the filly-goddess Talona is secured and being brought here under escort.”

The general gave a relieved nod. “Signal a fighting withdrawal to the south. We leave this post and will link up with the Thirteenth as they protect the rear.”

Algol’s sharp laughter broke from the corner, drowning out the general’s orders. “It is time, it is time! This battle no longer matters. She is nearly here, armoured in fiery crimson. Just a push more. One little push and it will be done.”

Fleur tensed, rounded on the fallen star, and was taken aback by the chained mare next to her. Where before her gaze had slipped from the mare, now it held fast. The bindings holding back the memories of her encounter with Algol and Sirius in the Golden Palace were shattered by the tempest of power inherited from Athena.

In the pause as memories crashed over Fleur, Algol lashed out across Sirius’ throat with a wing coated in razor thin black aether. The Firestar’s eyes went large, her last, plaintive gaze locked with Fleur. Thick, hot blood poured down Sirius’ neck and chest. Eyes rolling in her head, Sirius collapsed, but not before Algol scooped up a large globule of blood and spread it along the edges of her wings.

Pallas and Aegis flew up beside Fleur as the zebras made a space between the ponies.

“Algol! Why?! She is your sister!” Fleur demanded, her voice cracking in the tent. She could hear the zebras shouting, making demands and orders, but ignored them. All her attention was focused fully on Algol.

Algol laughed, and continued to soak her wings in Sirius’ blood. Weakly, Sirius dragged her hooves across the rugs, a bubbly gasp rattling in her open throat.

“She is tied to Hope itself, so pink and pure, and through her I can take yours away. And you are too weak to stop me,” Algol raised her soaked pinions from the spreading pool of Sirius’ blood and dragged them across her cheeks. A black glow leaked around her eyes. “Call Her Name,” Algol intonned, her voice oddly soft around a core of aetheric energy as it was carried to some distant place.

“What are you doing?” Fleur demanded, aghast at anypony being able to murder another so callously.

“And She will pour Her flame into your vessel, and nothing will be beyond your grasp. The alicorns abandon you.”

“The alicorns?” Fleur repeated, and then it struck her. Algol was no longer speaking to her. Whatever ritual she performed, the intended recipient was somepony else. Fleur stood frozen, uncertain what to do. She raised Pallas, the spear trembling in her aura. “Stop this! Stop this, or I will.”

“But, She will not. All you need do is call out to Her. Save your friends. Save your world. Or, see it all burn. It will be your decision alone. If you but call Her name.”

The darkness drained from Algol’s eyes, and the Demonstar grinned wider still. Fleur started to demand an answer again, but a subtle shift snared the words in her throat. The ground underhoof shuddered. The sky overhead crackled with a hundred interlaced fingers of lightning. The light coming through the flaps in the tent went dim and ruddy. An icy hoof dragged itself up Fleur’s spine and made her heart clench in deepest dread.

“What have you done!” Fleur demanded. Strength filled steel taught legs and voice, billowing the flaps of the tent and making the zebras cower around her, hooves plastered over their ears. Athena’s residual magic poured from Fleur’s withers into a pair of crystalline wings.

“What indeed,” Algol’s grin was wickedness incarnate, her confidence unbowed in the face of Fleur’s blossoming power. “Only gave a young mare already so red the little nudge required. You have a decision to make. What will you do? Strike me down? Little point now.”

A growl issued from deep in Fleur’s throat. Underhoof the ground shook from a charge, but whose? Screams and confusion gripped the tent, paes flying in and out carrying impossible reports of a black tidal wave cascading down the mountainside. Fleur remained fixed on Algol, Pallas raised for a killing stroke she was incapable of making.

Algol cocked an ear, and raised the tip of a bloody wing. “Listen now. Listen. You are too late!”

A primal roar of unbridled fury echoed from Southstone and silenced the battlefield with a single word, “Talona!” The clouds responded with lightning and thunder, and the disc recoiled at the rage in that unnatural cry.

Fleur’s ears twisted towards the battlecry.

“Talona?” Fleur whispered, the name like honey on her tongue, lingering fragments of dreamlike memories conjuring images of the dark coated filly from the remnants of Athena’s past.

The crystal wings at her side grew more solid, opaque surface tinkling like chimes as they moved.

She could feel Talona nearby, and Hades atop the mountain. She was unable to explain how she knew, only that she did. But it was something else that gripped her attention and held it fast. Something dark and sinister and wrong. It was the same crawling sensation exuded by Amon, but a thousand times more potent.

“You better hurry, or she will kill her. I wonder what will happen? Has an alicorn ever been killed before finding her raison d’etre?” Triumphant madness gleamed in Algol’s cold eyes.

The use of Prench was like a slap across Fleur’s face. Chased by Algol’s cruel laughter Fleur dashed from the tent. Her hooves churned up the hard sunbaked earth, carrying her at an impossible speed. Crystal wings spread wide, and with a kick Fleur launched herself skyward.

Griffons attempted to impede her, and they were cast out of her way like leaves caught in a gale. She could see now the cause of her dread. In the distance, at the base of the mountain, undead swarmed over zebra and griffon alike. Smoky black shades cleared the skies, and horrors lumbered into neat formations of soldiers. At the head of the undead horde strode a figure shrouded in a pillar of flame.

Even with her divine sight Fleur only barely recognised Sweetie Belle at the heart of the flames. The filly towered over the undead about her by a good head, enlarged by the abyssal energies crackling from mane and tale into the billowing plume of blue-green fire. Cancerous nodules bulged on her horn, and a thick ichor oozed from eyes consumed by shadows.

Around the apocalyptic pony were heaped a pile of bodies. Before her shuddered the diminutive dark form of Talona, a continuous scream tearing from the filly’s terrified throat.

Tucking her wings tight, Fleur dived.

Overhead, Sweetie raised a sword wreathed in the same flames that poured from her body, and brought it down in a thunderous blow.

Author's Note

Seems like a short chapter for the amount of work and time that has gone into it. ^^;;

Much like the previous chapter with Twilight's developments, Fleur's has been a long time building. I feel like it has much better support and foreshadowing, to the point of being obvious. Her conversation with Algol went through so many variations. It is a bit clunky, especially with her not recognizing Sirius at first. After a month of smashing my face into it I eventually concluded that if I fought with it until I was 100% satisfied it would never be published.

Even more time consuming has been getting the various points of view done on the battle and the events depicted. There was Fleur, Rainbow Dash, Gilda, Sweetie Belle, all their stories converging. Having events play out from as many as three or four points of view without being repetitive has been taxing. What do you say or inform your readers about when? In the end I concluded that Fleur almost needed to go first as hers is the 'broadest' in terms of the 'grand strategy' elements of the battle that was serving as the backdrop for the other characters more personal experiences. Hers, despite starting 'last' chronologically, also ended first in terms of her role that I could describe from her own point of view.

Hard as it is to imagine, I've been working on these chapters for going on ten months, having started things way back in last December.

Next chapter has Gilda and Rainbow's events, and then Sweetie Belle closes the battle out. After that we have Twilight, finally, making her return/appearance and we're at the grand finale of Myths and Birthrights.

Book Two: Chapter Twenty-Two: The War of the Summer Sun; Gilda and Rainbow

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duty and Dreams
Chapter Twenty-Two: The War of the Summer Sun; Gilda and Rainbow

Gilda lay awake all night watching the stars. Her thoughts drifted across the years.

Back to her school years with Rainbow Dash and Blinka. How Blinka would follow her and Dash around like a bad smell, constantly asking questions and being an annoyance. Gilda and Dash were the coolest kids around, and of course Blinka wanted to be included, and of course Gilda and Dash did everything they could to get rid of her. They’d been so rotten to her, going so far as to once trick Blinka into hiding in a dumpster while they went off to watch a race.

Yet, despite all the teasing, rough housing, and meanness, Blinka had been there for Gilda when she’d hit her lowest.

Gilda had trouble remembering which of them had the idea to immigrate to Southstone and ‘rejoin the great Griffon city’. It had been Blinka, right? Or was it her? One of them had read an article in the newspaper. No, it had been their great uncle’s ramblings that had set them on the path, hadn’t it?

Snorting at her own faulty memory, Gilda rolled over and began to prepare for tomorrow. It was going to be a long, hard day.

Still, she couldn’t get over the brief encounter with Dash.

What were the odds she’d run into her old friend the day before rushing off on what was by all sane estimations a suicide mission? Were she a more religious griffon, she’d have thought Faust involved in some manner. Faust, however, couldn’t give a falling feather for a griffon.

It was a coincidence. Nothing more. One of those strange quirks that sometimes happened.

Just like her being saved by Zubu.

She traced a talon over Zubu’s staff, the wood worn smooth where he’d used it as a crutch for years. With her talons and magic, Gilda didn’t need any weapons, nor did she require the staff as a focus for her spellwork. She couldn’t leave it behind, however. It was the only reminder of the blissful few months she’d known the crotchety ancient zebra. Already the memories were becoming like a dream, one from which she’d been cruelly awoken.

Zubu had been a harsh teacher, but an effective one. He’d taught her so much in the few months they were together. Little sparks of static danced between her talons.

Her heart clenched at the constant reminder of her mentor, and his loss. How she wished he and Orenda were still with her, instead of these strange hairless, smelly apes.

Following Zubu’s death Orenda had disappeared, vanishing with a rattling scream that flayed the hearts of all who heard her. The kitsune had been bound to Zubu, and with his death, part of her had died as well. If she’d been his apprentice longer, perhaps Orenda would have joined with her, rather than vanish.

The subject of bonding with a spirit never came up during her training. One of many subjects Zubu’s untimely death prevented them from touching.

There’d been so much for her still to learn.

Those lessons he’d managed to impart she put to use. Her inner eye turned inward, balancing on a precipice. With a gentle nudge it fell over the edge towards her magic.

Down a gaping well her consciousness descended into the metaphysical core. The rush of the descent was a calming sort of exhilaration without the ripple of wind ruffling her feathers. Just the simple sensation of falling.

And then it was over and she was looking at her reserves of magic; a pool of aether large enough to fill a public swimming pool. Not too shabby, for a griffin. Pleased, she opened her eyes.

Something moved in the corner of her eye, ghostly movement making her heart quicken and talons tense. She stared, but nothing was there. After a few seconds she began to relax. The soft padding of feet on damp grass behind her twitched Gilda’s ear to the approach of Highpriestess Urufaust.

With Zubu and Orenda gone, the stink-apes were her only company.

“You seem restless,” High Priestess Urufaust noted as she came and sat down next to Gilda. She stretched out her long, coppery limbs, adorned with thin bands of gold, simple sandals on her feet. Gilda wondered again why griffons were so afraid of such frail looking creatures, and shrugged off the thoughts.

Gilda responded with a snort. “Got a lot on my mind if I’m going to get my talons on the general’s throat.”

“Is that what he’d want?” There was a slight upward tick to one of Urufaust’s brows. The subtle motion was so unnerving compared to normal pony and griffon facial expressions. So sedate and barely detectable. And frustrating.

“Don’t be featherbrained,” Gilda dragged her talons through the ground. “Zubu was always going on about not getting revenge. But he is dead. He doesn’t want anything anymore. Same with Blinka. All I have left is getting back at the molly that took Blinka away from me. If all you’re going to do is spout moralistic garbage at me, than go away.”

The High Priestess spread her hands and shook her head. “Then instead let me offer a bit of advice.”

“I just said I don’t want your moralising.” Gilda began to pace in front of the human, but her gaze was fixed on the lakes of lights down on the fields. After a few turns she came to a sharp stop and rounded on Urufaust. “Why are you even here? I went through that damn test to go to that island. You and Zubu went and did some ritual, and then we were off running towards Southstone. What did your magic show you?”

Urufaust replied with a mysterious smile. Raising a slender finger, Urufaust pointed upwards towards the twinkling stars. As she pointed a spot of light popped into being, the new star twinkling brightly. Gilda blinked in surprise, then snorted and shrugged her wings.

In a soft, almost sad whisper, Urufaust said, “The Nightwatcher revives her stars as she prepares to battle for the souls of this world.”

Her finger dropped to the field covered by thousands upon thousands of distant cooking and lookout fires. In the distance steaks of fire reached up to slam into Southstone’s lowest wall.

“Tomorrow, three armies will clash, and the fate of the disc will be chosen.”

She faced Gilda, and then bowed.

“This is as far as we take you. The rest is up to you. There is no place for us in what is to occur tomorrow. That is what She showed us. May Fate smile upon you, Gilda the Deathtouched.”

Urufaust turned and vanished into the night, and was never seen again. Unseen and unheard, the men that had guided Gilda this far had gathered. As one they placed their fists over their chests, bowed, and then they too slipped away. Even with her sharpened senses Gilda couldn’t keep track of the humans as they began the long trek back to their jungle sanctuary.

“Cowards,” Gilda snorted, but she smiled, and wished them well from the bottom of her heart.

Still smiling, Gilda hefted Zubu’s staff, and cast a minor illusion to give her the appearance of wearing a cataphracts heavy armour. Gliding down the hill, she approached the griffon army and began her long awaited infiltration.

As she approached movement caught her attention. In groups of ten to twenty griffons broke off from the camp and flew around the side of Kiligrifjaro where the mountain would hide them from the eyes of the zebras. In the mountain’s shadow they then flew upwards and joined with those that had left earlier to gather the clouds that clung to the mountain. They kept away from Southstone Spires, many zebras keeping watch on the city for any attempt to enter it before daybreak. Slowly, the cataphracts were abandoning the main camp, only a token force being left behind to maintain appearances while the bulk took station overhead.

Quickly, Gilda altered the angle of her approach and slipped in behind and joined one of the groups heading up to the cloud cover. Clouds tried to stick to her like cotton candy strands. She had always hated flying through clouds and taking part in weather duties. Gritting her beak she powered through the clingy clouds until she broke out and saw arrayed around her on the glowing white surface thousands of cataphracts. Their silvery armour glimmered in the moonlight, dazzling in the velvety pre-dawn. Commanders directed groups into forming rain showers to further help hide what the griffons were doing.

“You there!” barked one such commander at Gilda. The knots on his shoulders and plume of his helm indicated he was a hecatontach. Flying over, the aged commander gave Gilda a quick glance over. “What unit are you with?”

“Rock Crest, ” Gilda responded, snapping out a salute.

“Rock Crest? Thought you lot were all wiped out last month,” the commander snorted, then indicated a group of other oddly assorted griffons. “Join up with the other remnants than. You’ll be under General Hydros in the vanguard.”

After exchanging salutes, the commander went off to direct and sort through the next group of arrivals.

Grinning at her luck, Gilda headed towards the group of remnants, and began helping them with organising the clouds. It was long work getting a good, thick layer of clouds formed and naturally drifting over the battlefield. As she worked Gilda found her eyes continually pulled towards Southstone Spires. Now she was closer she could feel a perverse aura of wrongness about the city. Her magical senses recoiled, and she couldn’t look too long at the city before her stomach would begin to churn and bile fill her beak. Her fur crawled being near the city, with its glimmering blue barrier. Part of her wondered where the pony-like shell over the city had come from. It was only a small part, as she tore her gaze away from the city to look for the one griffon she wanted, needed, to find. But the general was nowhere to be seen. Gritting her beak and biding her time, Gilda continued to work. The sun had risen by the time they’d finished, and by word of mouth alone been called to fall into squadrons.

From below the clouds the roar of battle could be heard as only a dull hum pierced by the bangs of cannons. At one point there was an extended rumble as one side charged the other.

Gilda hadn’t seen the general at all throughout the dawn and morning, and then she emerged along with two other generals. They spoke very briefly, finalizing some last details, and then they each went to their armies.

Gilda slid silently through the cataphracts to reach the front lines. Her blood raced, sweat beading her brow in the muggy morning air. A few griffons shot her looks, but shifted to make space. Her illusion held. Slowly she made her way towards the front ranks.

General Hydros marched back and forth inspecting her prized soldiers. Her scowl was severe, a hungry flame in her golden eyes. Resplendent armour glittered and battle talons clicked on hard packed cloudstuff with each step.

Taking a deep breath, General Hydros launched into a carrying speech. A passionate speech that poured fire into the hearts of her soldiers. Behind her a hole tore open in the clouds, one of a few such gaps in the clouds to make them seem more natural, but the only one around which the griffons gathered.

“The sun rises and darkness falls! Look to the east! Look, and see our home besieged! Foul powers have stolen her, and now zebra zealots seek to claim her for themselves! If we fail this day then the time of the griffons will have truly passed! If we fail this day then all hope will be lost! Our final hour is now! Your greatest hour is now! Beneath us lay those fields that have been home to griffons since the birth of the disc. They are our home, and now they are trampled by invaders. But it shall not remain so! Let them hear your cry! Let them hear you and shake in fear. A fear I do not share, though I know we go to our deaths. Because I go beside you, my brothers and sisters. We charge! We charge into death’s jaws! We charge into glory! We charge into history! Sound the horns!”

Her speech over, General Hydros spun and leaped over the side and dived towards the zebras. With her followed all that remained of Gryphonia. Resolutely, they followed her into hell. The last charge of the cataphracts.

Gilda’s beak twisted into a grin as she raced after the general.

Twenty-five thousand in number, the cataphracts dived and dived. Banners flew high and proud above a solid battlecry. Horns bellowed their approach as they broke into five deadly wedges. The zebras barely had time to get over their shock at so many griffons appearing right in their midst before talon or lance tore through flesh.

In the tumult and initial rush Gilda lost sight of General Hydros. She swung left and right, zigzagging through the battlefield as it broke down into personal struggles of life and death. Zebras were picked up and then dashed against the earth. Griffons were flung from the sky, the new zebra weapons showing their true worth. Only in the very center where the zebras kept their supplies and had their medical triage were the griffons truly able to run rampant.

Everything depended on the quick wits of the commanders and the steely hearts of their soldiers to respond without panicking. In some places the griffons decimated the frightened zebras. In others it was the griffons cut to pieces. It was bedlam and chaos, and in it Gilda searched for General Hydros, hoping that the general yet lived so she could be the one to end her life.

Minutes bled together, Gilda losing track of time as weaved through the fighting all around her. It took all her skill and training to avoid getting entangled in the battle.

With a flip and twist she spun over a charging trio of zebras with hoof-cannons, a tug off her out-streatched talons pulling them off balance. A griffon ordered her to fight, and she sped away. She spotted the general’s flagbearer, landed, slid under a cart as it overturned covered in flames, and launched herself back up.

Vengeance was close now.

Gilda could taste it on the wind, bitter and unfulfilling.

General Hydros and her most trusted cataphracts cut through the zebras, and began to angle skyward for another charge. At the bugle of a horn hundreds of griffons formed up on her flanks. They spiralled to the base of the clouds, several hundred griffons strong, looped over, and dived back towards the bloodsoaked fields.

Unencumbered by armour, Gilda easily outpaced the cataphracts. Her eyes were locked onto Hydros’ back. She flew with all her might, with all the fluid speed granted to her kind by their avian heritage.

Vengeance was within reach at last.

Blinka would be avenged.

“Gilly!” A foal cried in joy as Gilda passed the walls, wings tucked to her side.

For a fleeting moment Gilda caught sight of Talona leaning over the parapets surrounded by a trio of unfamiliar fillies. Then she plummeted past and there was only the tail of her target.

Closer and closer she drew towards her prey, and still the general failed to realise the danger giving chase.

Out of the corner of her eye Gilda spotted a flash of prismatic mane. Rainbow Dash rolled into a sharp dive, urged on by Pinkie Pie gripping her neck, and for an instant Gilda thought her friend intended to intercept her. Rainbow’s angle was wrong if that was her intent, taking her towards the walls of Southstone rather into the melee. Twisting her head around Gilda saw Talona and two of the fillies falling in twisting tumble as they grasped onto each other.

Time froze for Gilda.

Before her lay vengeance.

Behind fell a trio of fillies.

Desperation bent Rainbow’s athletic frame. Hooves stretched out towards the falling fillies, she ignored everything but reaching them in time.

They were why Rainbow had come to this forsaken place.

And Rainbow would never reach them in time.

Gilda had to choose. Either continue her pursuit of General Hydros, or save the fillies.

“You have to help your friend.” Gilda swore she heard Blinka whisper in her ear.

Indecession wracked Gilda.

She was so close! So close to the only goal that had kept her alive these past few months! She could already taste Hydros’ blood in her beak and feel it squish between her talons. What did she care about some stupid ponies?

A rainboom cone formed around Rainbow Dash, and still she would fail to reach the fillies.

“Gilda, you have to forgive yourself,” Blinka said, and Gilda felt ghostly soft talons touch her shoulders. “Save them. Save them like you tried to save me.”

Taking a last look at the diminishing shape of General Hydros, Gilda flared her wings and flipped over onto her back to form a net.

The fillies screams came to a sharp end as they were grasped in Gilda’s arms and wings.

“I gotcha squirts,” Gilda said, trying her best to be comforting as she braked their fall.

“Gilly!” Talona giggled, thinking everything a big game.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s been a while.” Gilda patted Talona on the head and quickly glanced over the other two fillies. Both seemed unharmed, just frightened. Around them the last of the cataphracts swept past.

“Hold tight,” she said ordered, and clutched them to her chest.

She started to roll again, the trio clutched tight, when fire and pain roared through her body from the top of her shoulders to the tip of her tail as she was flung side-long into an uncontrollable spin. She tried to correct, but her right wing refused to respond. The reason became evident when she noticed it tumbling away from her. With only one wing, she wrapped herself around the fillies and braced as best she could for the inevitable crash, darkness encroaching the edges of her vision.

“Gilda!” Rainbow’s voice pierced the haze of pain threatening to consume her.

At the very last instant Rainbow grappled her, and together she and the five ponies tumbled, bounced, and rolled across the trampled grass into the massed ranks of the zebrican army. Blood filled her beak, throat, and lungs. Her breath came in a sodden, haggard gasp, and then stilled. The darkness swarmed over her senses, and Gilda felt herself continue to fall even as her body rested on the earth.

Darkness gave way to bleak grey fog. Around her milled griffons and zebras guided by black coated pegasi. Everything was strangely quiet, except for the distant hum of someone singing off-kay. Crinkling her brow Gilda followed the singing. The fog thickened until Gilda could barely see the tip of her own beak, and then it thinned at the bank of a dark river dark as tar, and just as thick. To her left dozens of rickety docks thrust out into the placid waters, while ahead was a small campfire.

And at the campfire sat a very familiar figure.

“She was big and strong, in her eyes a flaming glow!” Came Zubu’s raspy voice in a familiar mockery of singing. “Most griffons looked at her with terror and fear. But to village toms, she was such a lovely dear!”

Wearily, Gilda asked, “Do you have to sing?”

“You don’t like?” Zubu asked, looking up from the campfire. With a wave of his crippled leg he bade her to sit beside him. “I thought everyone from the western continent loved to sing and dance.”

Blinking, Gilda shrugged and trudged next to him. Wait, hadn’t she been falling?

Gilda shook away the thought, compelled to sit next to her master.

“Do I look like some lame featherbrained pony?” Gilda snorted, staring into the flames.

The conversation felt so familiar. So very familiar.

“No,” Zubu replied soberly. “You look like a hero.”

“Huh?” Gilda’s head snapped up. That wasn’t familiar. At all.

“I am proud of you,” he continued, prodding the dying flames with the tip of his staff. “The wise and mighty Zubu trained a very good pupil. But you have much to learn still. Much to accomplish. If you choose, that is.”

A chill slid up Gilda’s spine. She looked around the river bank, and saw that they were not alone. Thousands of zebra staggered in ragged lines towards hundreds of rickety docks set along the river’s banks. Wounds of a great battle covered every single one of them, some with missing limbs or hunks of flesh.

“Am I dead?”

Zubu was quiet for an uncomfortable period. “Hmmm, yes and no. There is still hope for you. The wise Zubu gave you the necessary runes. If you try, you can still grasp onto the faint warmth and reclaim life. Or, you can rest. Zubu would be glad of the company. It is lonely here without Orenda and a noisy, stupid appentice.”

“I’m not ready to die,” Gilda declared right away. “Someone needs to go back to Equestria and tell Blinka’s parents and siblings how she died. Someone needs to tell them how she lived. How she saved me.”

But, she stayed by the fire, staring into its flickering warmth. She stayed next to Zubu, reluctant to leave her master. He poked the embers, sending up a little plume of sparks and smoke. Together they watched the flames begin to gutter until only a few glowing patches of red-white remained. Leaning over, Gilda rested her head against Zubu’s brow, and she was happy.

Heavy, cloying breaths clung to Rainbow’s face, turning her already damp fur into a soggy mess. Wiping her face with the back of a hoof did little to alleviate the discomfort. At least it was better than focusing on the heavy lump draped over her back.

“Pinkie, when we get back to Ponyville, you’re going on a diet,” Rainbow grumbled under her own breath.

“Why?” Pinkie shifted on Rainbow’s back to pinch her pudgy sides, and almost slipped off, only saved by Applejack’s hoof flinging out to catch her.

“Careful sugarcube,” Applejack scolded very softly. “It’s a very long drop.”

Pinkie blinked her huge baby blue eyes and tilted her head upside down towards the ground. She flashed her biggest, unperturbed smile, and righted herself in a swirl of limbs. “Oopsie! Sorry, I forgot. Again.”

Rainbow’s eye did not twitch in a very Twilight-eque manner.

“I swear, you’re putting on more weight than me, and I’m the pregnant one,” Rainbow tried to roll her shoulders a bit to loosen up a knot that had been gradually forming the last hour or so. Pinkie just giggled and patted Rainbow on the head.

“Ahem, may I remind you, that we are surrounded by battle-ready griffons?!” Soarin hissed through clenched teeth.

Pinkie clamped her mouth shut and mimed zipping it tight.

Feathers ruffled, Rainbow made a little grunt and tried to get comfortable in the middle of the cloud. As if to accentuate Soarin’s warning there was the soft crunch of cloudstuff as a griffon walked past only a pony-length overhead. Rainbow’s heart sped, adrenaline flooding her veins as her body tensed, ready to either race towards the city, or hual the griffon into the cloud. Whichever seemed better in the moment. The steps passed, but it would be far from the last time someone came near their hiding spot almost smack dab in the middle of the griffon army.

As uncomfortable as it was having Pinkie lay on her back for hours on end, the clouds pressing in on all sides was worse. Laying inside a cloud was vastly different than lounging atop one. It was like being in a bathtub of cotton candy. Cloudstuff stuck to her face and belly, and got in between the feathers of her wings. She continually had to preen to prevent it from building up too much. A task made more difficult with by Pinkie straddling her.

Soarin was in the same predicament, rolling his shoulders and trying to get at the edges of his wings without dislodging Applejack.

Pinkie and Applejack couldn’t even help. Other than being cold, miserable, and damp, they were unaffected by the clouds.

Rainbow’s thoughts wandered as boredom settled in a drab cloak more oppressive than even the dew on her fur. Twilight had been captured again, that much was obvious. It was the only explanation why she hadn’t put a stop to the battle. Nothing else made sense, and it wasn’t without precedent. In fact, it seemed to becoming more and more common. Discord, Chrysalis, and Leviathan had all caught Twilight in some fashion.

Which would make busting her out and kicking Hades’ flanks all the sweeter.

Rainbow’s ears perked up as there was more movement overhead, a subtle reverberation running through the clouds from thousands of griffons standing on the pliant surface. There was an anticipatory tension, like the clouds themselves held their breath, and then there was a rush as multitudes of wings buffeted the clouds. Poking her head out the bottom of the clouds, Rainbow saw the griffons begin their charging dive towards the masses of zebras below.

Nodding to Soarin, they waited another minute then stretched their wings to fly out of the clouds.

Rainbow had to struggle, her wings sodden with moisture from waiting so long in the clouds. Hugging the tops of the clouds, they approached the shimmering blue shell encapsulating Southstone Spires. Through its opaque surface a crowd could be seen gathering in the lowest ward. Unwilling to test its hardiness by trying to fly through the barrier, Rainbow and Soarin flew along its edge.

Reaching out a hoof, Rainbow was rewarded with a sharp jolt that rippled up her leg and into her shoulder. Grunting, Rainbow shook her head at Soarin.

They were going to have to find some crack in the spell if they were going to enter the city.

A sharp tug on her ears was the only warning given Rainbow of the presence of danger. Sol at their back, a trio of griffons dived with talons extended towards the group of ponies. Rolling sharply, Rainbow felt the lead griffon’s talons pass through the fur on her belly. Tucking her wings tight, Pinkie blowing a raspberry at the griffons, Rainbow swooped down through the clouds. She lost sight of Soarin and Applejack, her last image of them Applejack giving a griffon a fierce buck at it attempted to collide with Soarin, and then slipping off his back. Eyes wide, hooves flailing, Applejack flopped into the clouds, Soarin already diving after her.

There were few fliers alive as good as Soarin. He’d catch Applejack. Confident, Rainbow focused on preserving her own and Pinkie’s hides.

The winds whipped across her face as she dropped through the clouds. Pursued by griffons on either side, she was driven towards the chaos engulfing the fields before Southstone Spires.

A griffon closed in on her flank, and with a spinning buck Rainbow sent it careening into Southtone’s magical wall. There was a crackle, like a fly hitting a bug-zapper, and then the griffon fell limp, smoke trailing behind it as it plummeted towards the city streets. Rainbow cringed, and almost was hit in the side, an uppercut from Pinkie knocking the griffon away.

Griffons swooped and climbed all around them. In the throes of battle-rage they screeched and joined the pursuit. Pinkie was like a bright, pink flag proclaiming them to be enemies to both sides. Zebras hurled spears, and their hoof-cannons barked with fiery purpose.

Zig-zagging hard, the familiar thrill of danger and racing filled her body. Laughing as both griffon and zebra missed by at least a pony-length, she began to taunt her pursuers, luring them in before darting away just as another blast came from below.

“Come on, slow-pokes, I’m even carrying somepony, and this is the best you can do?” Rainbow taunted brazenly over her shoulders, Pinkie adding a raspberry and pulling down the bottom lid of one of her eyes.

Part of her understood just how much danger they were in, and what was happening all around them. It was the same part that told her she had to make sure Pinkie never learned the truth. With so many wounded littering the golden fields, it was only a matter of time until Pinkie figured it out.

Arcing away from the ground, Rainbow climbed away from the battlefield just as the griffons swarmed around the base of the clouds for another charge. A dark blue streak against the grey backdrop approached, and then joined up on her flank. Behind her a very persistent group of griffons continued to give chase.

“We need to retreat!” Soarin yelled. Applejack, more than a little wind-ruffled, clung tight to his back, her face a white sheet underneath her orange coat.

“Twilight needs us!” Rainbow shot back, angling herself between the city dome and the reformed griffon charge.

“Rainbow! Rainbow! Lookie!” Pinkie tugged sharply on Rainbow’s ears, wrenching her head up and pulling them into a tight loop-the-loop that put them behind her pursuers.

Following Pinkie’s thrusting hoof, Rainbow spotted the Cutie Mark Crusaders standing at the edge of the wall. Four fillies, staring down at the carnage of the battle below, unaware that Rainbow was above them. Her heart leapt into her throat in disbelief. When, how, what? She wanted to sputter, but there was no time.

As she watched one of the fillies—the one she didn’t recognise—reached trying to grab at a passing griffon. There was a surge from the crowd around them, and then a tiny ripple in the shield as an orange, a lighter yellow, and a black pony were pushed over the edge.

“Apple Bloom!” Applejack yelled, reaching out a hoof towards the tiny specs tumbling down the cliff.

Rainbow reacted instantly.

“Pinkie; hold on!” Was the only warning Rainbow gave as she tightened her wings into a sharp dive.

In her ears Pinkie gave a whoop of excitement as they plummeted through the swarm of griffons.

Left, right, left, left, back on target; Rainbow continually had to alter her angle to avoid hitting a griffon, slowly her down just fractionally enough.

Magic flowed from Rainbow’s wings as she willed herself to dive faster than she’d ever gone before. The fillies were so far below, and so near the terminal end to their fall. Tightening her magic further and further until it condensed into the tell-tale ripple of an eminent rainboom, Rainbow and Pinkie screamed towards the ground.

Every fibre of her being focused on the trio of falling fillies, on pushing through the final barrier. The foul air around the city clawed at Rainbow, trying to hold her back, and sapping the rainboom energy. With a silent crackle the rainboom burst forth, scintillating energy lancing outwards, impacting the walls of the cliff and tumbling in a multihued wave over the battlefield. Rainbow reached out her hoof towards the fillies as if it would slow them enough for her to grab them before their fall reached its terminal end.

And then there was Gilda, soaring up to halt their fall, cradling them in gentle wings.

Rainbow’s relief was only momentary.

As Gilda turned to carry the fillies to the ground a chorus of bangs issued of the zebras. Gilda spun and her wing fell away less than twenty feet from the ground.

And still they were out of Rainbow’s reach!

A sharp tug on her ears only narrowly prevented Rainbow from plowing straight into the ground trying to grab at Gilda and the fillies. Four bodies tumbled and bounced over the sunbaked earth. Performing a tight loop at rainboom speed, possible only through the magic saturating her and Pinkie, Rainbow landed next to the sprawled fillies and mortally wounded Gilda.

Even before Rainbow came to a sharp stop Pinkie had bounded off her back and headed towards the fillies, leaving Gilda to Rainbow.

Ignoring the thunder of battle all around her, Rainbow bent down with angry tears welling in her eyes. To Rainbow’s horror, Gilda didn’t move. Only a jagged stump remained at the base of Gilda’s missing wing, bone peaking through torn flesh. First aid training kicking in, Rainbow pressed her hooves over the stump in an effort to stem the blood flow.

“Come on, Gilda,” Rainbow growled, Gilda’s hot blood squelching between her hooves.

Hardy nature protecting her, Apple Bloom was the first to get to her hooves, standing just as Soarin landed. Still unsteady, she was almost knocked onto her flank as she was tackle-hugged by Applejack. Scootaloo and Talona were plucked up by Pinkie as zebras surrounded them with a wall of spears.

The zebras parted, Lord Halphamet emerging into the circle along with six other dahkirt, each flanked by their ifrit companion. Face hidden behind his chanfron, the tense line of his jaw and flash of his eyes created a merciless visage.

“Take the godling,” Halphamet barked to his underlings. When Applejack made to charge the nearest zebra, he thrust a hoof at her, “Contain yourself! The Empress commands that the godling is to be safeguarded, but made no mention of the Elements of Harmony. Whether we assist you or abandon you will be determined by how you act.”

“She ain’t yours to take!” Applejack scuffed at the earth and snorted.

“And she is not yours to protect,” Halphamet pointed out as three of the dahkrit approached where Talona huddled between Applejack and Apple Bloom.

Rainbow was only paying partial attention to what was going on around her. She couldn’t stem the flow of Gilda’s blood.

“Applejack, I need your help!” Rainbow shouted, trying to find a better position for her hooves, but only causing more blood to cover her legs. “Applejack!”

Torn between Rainbow’s plea and protecting a filly, Applejack swung her head back and forth between her friend and Halphamet. “You swear you don’t mean her no harm?”

“I make no claims on the Empress’ designs, only that her commands were to safeguard Talona, and to bring her to Zerubaba.”

“Fine!” Applejack snapped, her entire body shaking with anger. “But only because Princesses Luna and Fluttershy are in Zerubaba. And, we’ll be following you soon as we can, so you best take real good care of her, ya hear? Otherwise you and I will have words.”

Halphamet shrugged his utter indifference, and turned with the dahkrit as the took Talona and vanished into the ranks of the zebra army. Talona’s cries of, “Gilly!” shrank, and then were subsumed in the general noise of the ongoing battle.

Ready to call for Applejack a third time, Rainbow was instead shoved aside by a zebra in a white cap with a red cross on its brim. Potions, poultices, and bandages tumbled from open saddlebags, and her white habit was stained with dried blood over the sleeves and collar. The zebra went to work at once, but quickly stopped, shaking her head sadly.

“This one was friend?” She asked in stilted Equestrian. Rainbow nodded. “Is gone. Dead.” The medic stood, and quickly trotted away, looking from someone she could save.

Rainbow sat there, staring in total shock at Gilda’s body. She barely noticed the zebra army withdrawing, or when Applejack, Apple Bloom, and Scootaloo wrapped her in a tight hug. She shivered, and tears run in thick streams down her face. She just sat there, resting a hoof on her friend’s shoulder.

“She saved us,” Scootaloo said, his voice faint with her own shock.

“I think I remember her coming to Ponyville a few years ago,” Apple Boom said. “She a friend of yours, Rainbow?”

Mutely, throat too thick with emotion to speak, Rainbow nodded. Furiously she scrubbed the tears from her eyes, but they immediately came back.

“I hate to be ‘that pony’, but we need to get out of here,” Soarin scanned the skies still filled with swooping and screeching griffons, body tense as he stood guard over everypony else.

“Help me carry her. I am not leaving her here,” Rainbow slid under one of Gilda’s legs, Applejack joining her by lifting up the other side. Together they balanced Gilda’s limp frame in a fire-pony’s lift, and started to make their way towards the distant hill on which they’d left Fleur.

They’d gone only a few steps when the resounding roar of ‘Talona’ broke across the battlefield. A hundred vivid tongues of lightning lashed the earth, and the skies boomed with thunder.

“What now?” Applejack demanded, warily watching the skies.

The zebras only a short distance away vanished into a sudden fog rolling down the mountain. A thick fog, cloying and impenetrable as the clouds had been. The oppressive stench of decay and death filled Rainbow’s nose and clawed down her throat. Struggling with Gilda, Rainbow suppressed a revolted shudder. Next to her, Soarin clamped his mouth shut, narrowed eyes scanning through the unnatural fog.

Underhoof the ground shook. Black figures flitted past, a few, and then more and more. Rainbow couldn’t make them out fully, but the unnatural, jerky motions set her teeth further on edge.

“They got out of the city?” Scootaloo whimpered, pressing herself further against Pinkie Pie. “How did they get out of the city! Hades made it so they couldn’t!”

“What is going on Scoots? What are these things?” Rainbow demanded as the group pressed into a tight circle, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo surrounded by the adults.

“Dead griffons,” Apple Bloom said.

As she spoke misshapen horrors Rainbow had only ever seen in paintings and her nightmares emerged from the fog. Fur hung in loose patches around gangrenous flesh. Heads hung at broken angles on withered necks. Hungry mouths hanging open, black tongues falling from jagged beaks, the undead advanced on the ponies.

Shoving her way between Applejack and Soarin, Apple Bloom dashed towards the monstrosities. A moment later Scootaloo joined her, glittering armour jangling as she darted beside her friend. They skidded to a stop in the middle between them and the adults. Rainbow slid Gilda off her shoulder as Applejack shouted for her sister to stop. A line of tension kept the air taught, Rainbow held by concern that any movement would cause the ghouls to lunge at Apple Bloom.

“Apple Bloom! Scootaloo, get back here!” Rainbow and Applejack ordered through clenched teeth.

At any moment the ghouls would pounce. Rainbow slowly fell into a half-squat, ready to intercept the first one to make a move. Her heartbeat was like a tirade of hammers in her chest. They’d just saved the fillies! They couldn’t lose them now.

To everypony’s astonishment, Apple Bloom marched right up to the closest mishappen griffon, and swatted it on the nose as she would an especially bad dog. “Go on! Shoo!” Apple Bloom raised her hoof again.

It gave a sharp hiss, and absurdly backed away.

Rainbow’s mouth fell open. This monster, covered in patchy fur and rotting flesh, whimpered. It whimpered!

“Get back to the city! Mr. Hades is going to be mad you got loose.”

The dozen horrors on either side clacked their dry beaks at Apple Bloom and then raised their heads like dogs hearing their master’s whistle. Snarling they withdrew, merging back into the fog.

“What in Tartarus is going on?” Gilda wheezed, propping herself up on trembling legs, from next to Rainbow.

Tension snapped. Rainbow jumped away from Gilda, expecting her friend to have become one of those horrific monsters. Instead, a very much alive Gilda pushed herself up to a sitting position. Joy, relief, confusion bucked Rainbow in the head. She blinked a couple times, trying to figure out what was going on between Apple Bloom chasing off the undead like they were pests on her porch, and Gilda miraculously coming back to life.

Never one to question good fortune, she tackled Gilda into a bone crushing hug. Beneath her Gilda grunted and grit her beak tight.

“Wait, you were dead!” Rainbow pushed Gilda to hooves’ length.

Her eyes darted over Gilda, from her bruised face, to the stub of her wing. Pink scar tissue stretched over the stub. Gilda turned her head to look, and tipped off-balance. She lurched against Rainbow, and without support would have fallen over.

Putting on a cocksure grin unreflected in her grimacing eyes, Gilda said, “Guess I won’t be flying anymore, huh?”

Tears rimming her magenta eyes, Rainbow gave a soft punch to Gilda’s good shoulder.

The disc jumped underhoof, almost knocking Rainbow and Gilda over. Scootaloo stumbled against Apple Bloom, and Soarin splayed his hooves to keep his balance. Pinkie was the only one who seemed unaffected. She’d moved a little to the side, tugging at the edges of her some-what limp mane as she peered into the obscuring fog.

“What in Tartarus is going on out there?” Applejack demanded as she joined Pinkie, putting on her most withering glare.

Sharing a look, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo gasped, “Sweetie,” and sprinted off into the heavy fog.

Slowed down helping Gilda, Rainbow slowly followed as Applejack, Soarin, and Pinkie Pie all dashed after the fillies.

Bouncing backwards, Pinkie waved to Rainbow. “Don’t worry Dashie, we’ll find the girls! Catch up when you can!”

Rainbow ground her teeth together as Pinkie too disappeared in the grey morass, leaving her alone with Gilda.

After a few moments Gilda let out a chuckle. “Look at us. The fastest fliers in Cloudsdale, left behind like a couple sad lumps. It’s good to be back.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow sighed, a smile forming as they slowly followed, Gilda’s steps sluggish and dragging in the dirt. “It’s good to have you back.”

Author's Note

***If you've enjoyed my writing, please consider donating. You can buy me a Ko-Fi, or just directly donate with Paypal to alaster31@hotmail.com. I could really use any support and help to keep writing. Thank you!***

The ending for this chapter has been fighting me the past couple weeks. At times it felt repetative. At others just... weak. Attempts were made at it being 'Heroic!'. But those were just 'blech; cliche'. In the end I settled on what I hope is a little bittersweet and warming, while also having a tinge of curiosity on what happens next.

Gilda's role in this battle and chapters has been a real roller-coaster. At first I was going to simply have her conversation with Dash on the hill be her final appearance in Myths. She just walks away and disappears. Vanishing in the battle, her fate unrecorded. This wasn't some attempt at being 'deep' or 'thought provoking', rather Gilda's storyline seemed the weakest and least interesting of all the tangled mesh I've created.

Honey Mead convinced me to continue with her story, and I am very glad I did. I can't imagine Myths without it now.

The ordering of these chapters has been another issue. With how the ending of this chapter morphed, it feels a bit like it should go before Chapter 21. Just for a more consistent rise in tension. Or, maybe it is good having a rise then fall at this point. Give everyone a little breathing room before we're right back into the 'pew pew, magic lazorz, rawr! I R Big Fight!' stuff.

I hope that I've wrapped up Gilda's story arc in a satisfying enough way. I think it is good and fits the themes and general vibe/lessons the character needed to learn.

Thank you, everyone who has stuck it out this far and long.

Book Two: Chapter Twenty-Three: The War of the Summer Sun; Sweetie Belle

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duty and Dreams
Chapter Twenty-Three: The War of the Summer Sun; Sweetie Belle

Sweetie’s descent to the Lowest Ward of Southstone Spires was joined by many others. The undead occupants of the city thronged towards the commotion caused by the bombards, drawn as moths to a flame. Mindless zombies jostled into a shuffling sea while the ghouls and ghasts slipped across rain slicked rooftops and silently passed through shadowy alleyways.

But it was the greatest of the undead that formed a procession around her.

Bearing crimson and white banners portraying the heraldry of Southstone’s royal house, now with the addition of a blood drip motif, the former griffon nobility marched in practiced lock-step. In life they’d been knights and questors, bannercats of the crown that formed the military elite. Now, with faces pale and sunken with insatiable hunger, they were more frightening to behold. Polished plate barding clattered, lances waved in the air, and glowing emerald eyes were fixed ahead behind steel helms.

A slight tremor worked its way up Sweetie’s spine.

She tried to take different roads, but there were few that ran between the tiered wards. Inevitably she was forced to cantor alongside the loathsome creatures. Her horn itched to draw Durandal and strike them down. Only concern over whether it would break Hades’ commands kept her in check.

The thump of warm bodies pushing up on either side broke Sweetie out of her trance-like march.

The lower wards of the city were cramped, buildings tightly packed and leaning over the roads, pressing the building horde together. Looking over Sweetie was shocked to see it was Apple Bloom next to her, Scootaloo with Talona on her back on her other side.

“What are you doing here?” Sweetie demanded loudly.

“We ain’t letting you go off alone again. Not ever, you hear me. So take all the arguments I know you wanna scream and keep ‘em under your hat,” Apple Bloom shot back with surprising fire. Sweetie was a little shocked by her friend’s vehemence. “You need our help, and that is that.”

Slowing, Sweetie tried to round on Apple Bloom, but the press of bodies prevented her from turning. She had to settle for shouting over her shoulder. “Like I needed your help against the Diamond Dogs? Or when that crazy filly had me fighting to the death for her amusement?! Look at her! She is excited because there are ponies trying to attack the city.”

Chest heaving, Sweetie’s anger burned in her mouth. Why, she asked herself over and over, had so stuck her neck out for Talona when Hades came. Why had the disc become so mad? So full of misery and darkness. Why had the princesses allowed such horrible things to happen?

“She’s a filly who has been raised by the Gaeans and griffons. O’course she don’t have her head right. That is why she needs us to set her straight.” Apple Bloom shot back, her glare burning hot.

Stopping in the street, Sweetie fired back, “She’s a sociopath!”

“So, we teach her how to be better. Ain’t that what Princess Celestia would do?” Apple Bloom put on her innocent smile, like they were in their old clubhouse, discussing ways to find their Cutie Marks.

Well, Sweetie had her mark now, and it was for something society shunned; fighting. Whether it was about protecting those she loved, or just fighting in general was unimportant. Nopony in Ponyville had fighting marks. If the town had any guards, Sweetie somehow doubted even they’d have had such cutie marks. Theirs would have been for things like ‘Investigating’, ‘Settling Arguments’, or some other silly, coddled thing. Even the ponies in the army and navy seemed to have their marks more about either running logistics or sailing a ship, respectively.

The military was a useless relic. Its complete lack of effectiveness had been put on display too many times in the last couple years. Especially by the changeling invasion.

She was an aberration. Somepony to be shunned and ignored if they ever made it back to ‘polite’ society. Doomed to become an outcast by everypony. It was only a matter of time until even Apple Bloom and Scootaloo grew distant and left her behind. That would be the best for them. She’d only drag them down with her through association.

If they ever made it home, of course.

A deep snort echoing in her throat, Sweetie resumed her march. “Celestia? Who knows! Probably leave Talona to inflict misery on everypony, and only when things got really, really bad, would she send somepony else to clean up the mess.” Sweetie spat out the accusations like they were mud.

Frowning, Apple Bloom shook her head. “Princess Celestia does her best, just like everypony else.”

Failing to hold back a deep sigh, Sweetie fixed her gaze forward. “Go back to the castle, Bloom. Take Scoots with you and stay where it is safe.”

“No way!” Scootaloo interjected, voice cracking with emotion. She seemed to be a bit better after her earlier panic attack. She marched with head held high and shoulders stiff as if on a proper military parade. “The three of us stick together, no matter what.”

“Besides, who says the castle is any safer?” Apple Bloom added. “Where is the first place everypony is going to go charging? The castle of course.”

If she weren’t being pushed along in a crowd of horrific undead griffons and shuffling zebra zombies, Sweetie would have face-hoofed. Her friend’s logic was beyond unsound, as no doubt Apple Bloom was already aware.

It took far longer than Sweetie anticipated to reach the lowest ward of Southstone Spires. Where it seemed only minutes for Hades to go from the gates to the palace, it took Sweetie almost a day and a half. It was like traveling to a whole different city, winding back and forth between from the palace, through the gates of the Middle Ward, and down to the Lowest Ward on switchback roads. With her friends she spent the night resting at an inn at the bottom of the Middle Ward, half-way down Kiligrifjaro.

From the windows they watched siege leave blazing orange streaks across the night sky until the hour grew late and the fillies curled up together on a large bed. All except Sweetie. Tension running down her back in steel cords, she sat up all night making sure nothing tried to snatch her friends.

Morning came, and after scrounging a light breakfast, they were on their way. The Middle Ward was utterly empty except for them, the sleepless undead of the city having all congregated in the Lowest Ward.

Little was said the rest of the trip down the mountain. Sweetie brooded the whole way, her lips pinched in a sour frown. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo tried to cheer her up, but she always shot down their attempts with a surly, “Go back to the castle.”

Her coat itched, and Sweetie constantly shot furtive glances at every corner. She could feel somepony watching her, a voice in her head screaming that she should take Apple Bloom and Scootaloo back to the palace. But, she continued down the mountain, like a moth drawn to a flame.

The Lowest Ward was packed shoulder to shoulder with the monstrosities that now claimed the city home. A heavy rain pelted the district out of an otherwise empty sky, the clouds unable to pass through the barrier encompassing the city. Leaving the main road, Sweetie and the others made their way up to a narrow path that ran the length of the wall.

In the Lowest Ward, the walls were thick and squat, with emplacements for ancient onagers every fifty hoof-lengths. Positioned as it was on the mountainous slopes, no walls fully encapsulated Southstone Spires. There was little need as the mountain itself provided ample defenses with impassable slopes and sudden gullies that prevented any alternate means of entering the city other than flying.

There were fewer undead off the main thoroughfare. It was only a short while later they reached the Lowest Gatehouse. Clambering up to the parapets, they looked out and beheld the grand siege of Southstone Spires spread out before them.

From their vantage point a quarter of the way up the mountain they had a clear view of the battle between the zebras and griffons.

As half of the zebrican army clashed with the griffons to the west, the remainder marched up the winding roads to one of the three gates into the city. Behind them cannons hurled magic shot at the glowing blue shell that continued up from the walls. Cannonballs shrieked as they slammed into stone and magic walls. Ripples flowed across the surface of the Southstone’s aetheric wall from dozens upon dozens of impacts, but the walls gave no signs of yielding.

Shields placed over their backs, several dozen zebras hauling battering rams up the roads. The shields were unnecessary. The ancient onagers on the city walls stayed silent, and it was the salivating faces of the undead peering at the soldiers, not archers. If Southstone had been next to open fields, rather than on the side of a mountain, it would have been a simple matter to breach her gates. Even as it was, it was only a question of time until the gates fell.

Sweetie sighed, and shook her head.

As she watched the battering rams approach Sweetie began to frown. The lower gatehouse was wrong, its black stonework incongruent with the rest of the city.

A hulking monolith of black basalt next to the sandstone works of the rest of the wall, it stuck out like a sore hoof. Gargoyles rimmed its weatherworn face, gates of rust encrusted iron held shut with gold hued grasping talons as if wrapped in the arms of a giant diamond dog.

A palpable aura of wrongness permeated the air. Sweetie was unsure if it was the gates themselves, or all the undead that bothered her more.

Undead monstrousities jostled against her, fighting to reach the blue shell keeping them trapped in the city. They scrapped their withered, decayed talons over the shield, pitiful moans creating a rolling, disconcerting chorus.

“Cool,” Scootaloo exclaimed as she leant over the parapets. There was a little crackle as her head passed through the shimmering blue barrier extending from the walls. Jumping in surprise, Scootaloo began to stumble forwards, pressed in from behind by the undead.

“Whoa there!” Apple Bloom clamped her teeth onto Scootaloo’s tail, and pulled her friend back from the edge.

“That was close,” Scootaloo chuckled and rubbed the back of her head.

Sweetie sighed, trying to calm her racing heart, and stared at the writhing sea of bodies below the mountain.

“There ain’t anything we can do to stop this, is there?” Apple Bloom said softly, sadness filling her yellow eyes. Her shoulders slumped, and she leaned against Scootaloo for support.

As they watched a group of griffons swept up out of the battle, gathered near the bottom of the clouds, and then dived back towards the battle. They passed just a few ponylengths away, almost within reach.

“Gilly!” Talona shouted with glee.

What happened next unfolded in slow motion.

Talona jumped towards the top of the parapet. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo both grabbed at Talona, shouting in unison for her to stop. Jump halted, Talona tilted into a forward spin, lurching Apple Bloom and Scootaloo off-balance. Sweetie spun on her hooves as Apple Bloom and Scootaloo’s yells echoed over the battlements. She tried to shove her way towards her friends and reached out with her magic. Something jostled into Sweetie, a mad scramble ensuing to reach the hole Talona had made. Sweetie on the side of the head, her magic guttering out just as it was clamping down on Apple Bloom and Scootaloo’s tails.

Sweetie’s last sight of Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Talon were the trio tumbling down the cliffside towards the waiting army below as the hole in the barrier slammed shut, severing a zombie’s leg in the process.

Screaming for her friends, Sweetie was knocked backwards over the edge of the walls. Eyes widening, heart leaping into her throat as she fell, Sweetie cartwheeled her legs trying to latch onto anything to halt her descent towards the wet cobblestones. Instead of a yielding road, she met the soft, prickly embrace of straw heaped on a wagon. Gasping and spitting straw, she scrambled out of the wagon, and found herself in the even more cramped street before the obsidian gates.

“No! No, no, no!” Sweetie repeated the word over and over, trying to push her way through the throng back to the wall, but the press of bodies was too tight.

And her friends would have already…

Sweetie clamped her eyes tightly shut, forcing the thoughts out of her head.

“Hades! Celestia! Luna? Iridia or Twilight? Please. Somepony, anypony, help them. Please.”

Half expecting a miracle, Sweetie looked up, and her hopes were smashed.

Just like her friends on the rocks beneath the mountain.

The image of them, broken and twisted, forced itself into Sweetie. She tried to push it away, but it only became stronger.

She’d failed them.

No, Celestia had failed them. Celestia, Luna, Iridia, and Twilight. All the alicorns.

The princesses refused to come.

They let Scootaloo and Apple Bloom…

“Why does this keep happening?” She sobbed, jaw tight with the fanning flames of hatred. “Why won’t they do something? Why is everything so wrong? Why won’t you help me? Why have you turned your back on me?”

Sweetie fell to her knees, mud splashing over her chest, mane slick across her face in the pelting rain.

Why was the disc so cruel and unfair? Where was the justice?

This was all Talona’s fault.

That stupid, stupid filly had killed her best friends.

And, of course, she’d be fine. She was one of the oh-so-important alicorns, afterall.

It wasn’t right that everypony else had to suffer, but not Talona.

If only there was someway to make her pay…

“Call Her name,” rattled a discordant voice in her head, alien among her racing thoughts. Sweetie gasped as if she’d fallen into an icy pool. “And She will pour Her flame into your vessel, and nothing will be beyond your grasp. The alicorns abandon you. But, She will not. All you need do is call out to Her. Save your friends. Save your world. Or, see it all burn. It will be your decision alone. If you but call Her name.”

Though the abomination had never said its masters’ name, it came as easy to Sweetie as her own.

Her tongue burned as the name filled her mouth, like she’d bitten into a glowing ember. It hurt trying to keep the name contained, to hold back its uttering. Throwing back her head she let unleashed the name to the uncaring sky.

“Astaroth!” Sweetie screamed, her horn alighting with magic pulled by the foul name.

She poured all the pain that had fallen on her young withers these past few months into the cry. All the anger that had grown to the proportions of the oldest dragons, growling in a restless cavern at the core of her heart. All the bitterness that seeped through every sinew of her body until all the disc appeared utterly bleak and devoid of any justice.

Lightning crackled through the storm, and Kiligrifjaro trembled. Sol dimmed as she shivered and a shadow stretched across the disc.

Yanked forward by some invisible force, Sweetie’s vision went black. Through the thinned boundaries between realms Sweetie plunged. Yet, she could still feel the rain on her face, the loamy stench of the undead horde curled in her nostrils, and the cold cobblestones never vanished beneath her hooves.

Sight returned, and before her stretched a wintery wasteland. Gnarled, frost choked trees thrust out of snow encrusted with rime. Icicles like curved talons dangled from bare branches, threatening at any moment to drop and tear through the unwary below. Tilted towers made of black ice loomed in the distance. Black obelisks floating over their tops, loops of massive chains binding them to the towers. Between the towers rolled a thick fog pierced by single meandering road that linked them to a bleak crystalline palace. Icy thorns clawed from the sharp edged walls in jagged spires that glimmered like obsidian talons. Just seeing the edifice scratched Sweetie’s eyes raw.

She was yanked again and catapulted over the frozen wastes.

Doors wide enough for a dozen ponies to stride through side to side without touching each other flung themselves open at her approach. Shrivelled bodies impaled on spikes filled the chamber beyond. Skulls dangling in barbed wire nets from the ceiling formed ghastly chandeliers, torchlight flickering in their sockets. Faces twisted with fury covered the walls, a continuous, moaning wail echoing throughout the palace from their fleshless lips.

Deeper and deeper into the unholy palace Sweetie plummeted until she found herself at the heart of the frozen realm, and before it’s unchallenged queen.

Astaroth rested on a throne of rime encrusted, cloven shields, a gaunt figure that loomed over the gigantic hall. A crown of frozen blood adorned the Queen of Wrath, a thin, lanky mane hanging in damp wisps from between the glimmering ruby spires. Her face was malformed and repulsive, flesh taut over a deformed, flat skull, hooked teeth visible behind cracked lips that oozed black blood. In place of her eyes burned crackling flames in empty sockets. Delicate wisps of torn satin draped her otherwise pale, naked form. From the ceiling hung great chains, each as thick as a pony, that hooked through the flesh of her shoulders, arms, hips, and thighs. With the slightest movement of the monolithic figure they rattled with a thunderous cacophony, and spears of ice cascaded in a deadly rain.

A seven fingered hand swung over Sweetie’s head, talons draping down to create a cage around her.

“My herald has done well this day,” thrummed a voice like the calving of a glacier in Astaroth’s throat. “So much anger and bitterness. So much desire to see the wrongs committed to her redressed. And power too. An alicorn has touched her, given her but the most minor of protections. Not enough. Never enough. The alicorns quickly forget and discard their champions once they no longer have a purpose. What was hers? Ah… Discord. Woe. Suffering. Yes, yes, I see. Such a tragic tale of betrayal by the ones who should have protected her.”

From her throne Astaroth arose to tower over Sweetie Belle.

“It has been some time since one so worthy of my blessing has graced my palace.”

Talons scraped across the ground and plucked Sweetie up. At their touch she was crushed beneath an avalanche of hared. Fathomless bitterness swallowed everything. Primordial rage burned through her, igniting mane and tale into columns of white fire. She curled in on herself, writhing in ecstatic agony as Astaroth’s blessing crackled into her.

“Vengeance will be delivered. Scorn will be answered. The disc’s injustices will be rectified. Or it will burn.”

With this command, Astaroth dropped Sweetie, and straightened back on her throne.

Sweetie plummeted through clouds of bitter anguish. They boiled and crackled with jagged tongues of acrimonious lightning, dark purple-white in the reddish haze. She reached out a hoof, eager for the power promised. For the ability to rectify the alicorns’ mistakes. In a scrapping hiss the clouds rushed towards her and into her, filling her with so much undiluted power. She couldn’t withstand such seething aether, her small form full beyond bursting.

Wrath so pure and blinding consumed every fibre of her being, and she let it.

Her vision turned red, and then white.

The gentle rain evaporating on her face was the first indication that Sweetie was fully back on the disc. She took a deep breath, and tasted sweet anger on the wind. A feast of rage waiting to be harvested.

Looking up Sweetie found herself standing half-again her height over the undead griffons about her. Their glowing eyes settled on her, and slowly they gave way, the more intelligent sweeping into low bows. Primal hunger and hatred for the living pulsed like the beats of their former hearts in the undead host. A wrath magnified a thousand fold by the chances to feast Hades had denied them. They despised the mortals for possessing life when their own had been stolen so cruelly.

Without speaking Sweetie stepped towards the great iron doors. With a shrieking ring she drew Durandal. The sword glowed red-hot in her aura, the air about the blade distorted by waves of heat. A roar sounded from Sweetie’s throat. Blinding light burst from the ancient sword as she brought it down on the door and in a single swing cleaved it in half. There was an echo like a thousand strikes of thunder as the top half of the door slid and then slammed to the ground. With a shove of her magic the bottom half joined the top, and the way out of the city was clear.

Howling with glee the undead swarmed around Sweetie and down the mountain towards the embattled armies on the fields below. Around the undead flowed a thick fog that poured out of the sundered gates, down the cliff, and out onto the fields.

At an almost sedate pace Sweetie strode from the city, unfurling elegant, leathery wings as she did. Blue-hot flames sprouted around her hooves, tail, and mane. Her horn became twisted, and gnarled like a weather-worn branch. Durandal floated by her side, a plume of incandescent magic growing from the blade. Each step made the disc tremble, for she had become the Avatar of Wrath. And it felt… Justified.

Her grin grew wicked, anticipation bubbling in her stomach, imagining the faces of the alicorns when she set right the disc’s many wrongs. When she did what they refused to do. She could sense Talona, just below her, out there on the battlefield.

“Talona!” Sweetie roared, and the clouds responded with jagged tongues of lightning and deep, booming thunder.

Half-way up the winding road, the battering ram and its attendant soldiers were overrun in an instant. Throats were torn apart by ravenous maws, others withered into husks by cursed claws. Zebras at the back jumped over the cliff, deciding to risk the sheer drop rather than contend with the monstrosities consuming their compatriots.

Faster and faster the undead surged, Sweetie picking up her own pace. The zebras trembled in their lines as the undead came towards them like a rotting tidal wave. Zombies and animated skeletons formed the bulk of the horde, with shrieking wraiths gliding above. Interspersed among them were the greater monstrosities, ghouls lopping along on gangly legs, and fampyr nobles striding with bleak purpose, directing the flood of horrors towards the tightest zebra formations.

Drums sounded, hesitant at first but increasing quickly with urgency, directing the zebras to prepare for the charge. Dread rippled across the front ranks. They set their teeth and spears as the undead spilled down the cliff face. A series of bangs rippled along the zebras’ ranks, smoke obscuring their lines from the undead wave. With a heavy patter hoof-cannon shot sank deep into rotting flesh. The first line of undead stumbled, and were subsequently trampled by the mindless horde rushing towards warm, tantalizing blood.

For the final time that day there was a mighty crash as one army slammed into another.

Through the charnel fields Sweetie strode, a burning white pyre leaving a trail of ashen bodies in her wake. She cleaved through undead and living alike, her line unwavering towards Talona. Near the back of the zebra ranks, Talona screamed as Sweetie approached. The dahkrit stood around the alicorn filly, and around them prowled a ring of fiery lions.

“You killed them!” Sweetie raged. Wrath clouded all thoughts but one; destroy the filly that stole her friends.

She raised Durandal high, a crimson gleam on the sword’s blade.

“You killed my best friends!”

The first spell struck her on the left shoulder. Wicked orange flames curled through her fur. She let out a little grunt and pushed through the magical fire as it slipped over her unable to so much as singe a single strand of hair. Without looking away from Talona, Sweetie swung Durandal with all her might at the ifrit who had cast the spell. The ifrit reacted too slowly. With a grinding squeal enchanted metal cleaved the spirit from throat to tail. A mangled howl escaped dying lips, and the ifrit crumbled to the muddy earth in a pile of glowing embers. A similar scream erupted from one of the zebras around Talona, his eyes rolling into his skull so only the whites were visible, froth falling from his lips as he crumpled into a twitching pile.

As if it had been a signal, the other ifrit charged. All except for the largest. She stood back with a wide snarl as a scorching cone of intense flames issued from her mouth.

Sweetie met their charge head on. An ifrit latched onto her side as one of its fellows was cut down. Molten hot fangs and claws sank into her flesh, but only left shallow wounds. Another latched onto her left hind leg just below the knee, while still another went for her throat. The last ifrit leapt through drifting embers, fangs and talons spread wide. Like the lions they resembled, the fiery spirits pounced onto Sweetie from all sides.

In a blur of motion Sweetie curled her left foreleg around the ifrit on her side, and hurled it away with a terrific swing. Midair it met the leaping ifrit and both were sent tumbling into a sprawling heap. Jerking herself forward, she pulled her leg from the jaws of the ifrit behind her, fangs scraping across bone. Legs cocked, and then snapped out in a ferocious buck that struck the ifrit squarely on it’s broad face. With a crack its head was twisted almost backwards on its neck, and it too died.

Durandal returned to her side, and together pony and sword continued their unstoppable march towards Talona. Her eyes never wavered from the small alicorn. All her attention was on that little, dark pony. The ifrit were no more than flies. Minor irritants to be swatted aside. The wounds inflicted by the ifrit sizzled shut before she’d stepped beyond their ashes.

Only Lord Halphamet remained between Sweetie and her prize.

The large stallion snorted, and pawed at the ground as if he was going to charge.

Sweetie pre-empted him with a telekinetic swat the sent him and his ifrit flying.

Where the Empress’ Hoof had stood huddled Talona. Around the alicorn filly dozens of zebras soldiers cringed, threw down their weapons, and tried to flee. They were caught by the undead bounding along in Sweetie’s wake, filling the hole she’d made in the army’s lines.

Silent in her boundless hate, anger so bitter it locked her jaw shut, Sweetie stared down at the tiny, trembling form of Talona. Durandel floated over her head, and then came down angled at Talona’s throat.

Out of the corner of her eye Sweetie saw a flash of white fling itself from the sky.

Durandal blazed white-hot, and with a deafening clang impacted on Aegis’s round face. Fleur skidded across the blood slicked earth, hooves churning up long furrows as she desperately tried to slow down and come to a halt over Talona’s prone form. Pallas twirled over the shield, driving Sweetie back a short step, just enough for Fleur to reach down with a wing and scoop up the trembling filly.

“Sweetie Belle, stop this!” Fleur shouted, her voice carrying over the clamour of the battlefield. With each word a deep note of aurichalcum striking aurichalcum resounded as Durandel battered into Aegis.

Fury evident in every rigid line of her body, Sweetie pounded Aegis with unrelenting hate. “Another pony who tried to steal my sister… Who steals my revenge! And now a loathsome alicorn! I’ll just destroy you as well!”

Sadness flowed over Fleur. Her startling blue eyes glowed bright with Power, and she slowly shook her head.

“Rarity would be appalled. It would break her heart to see what has happened to you.”

“Don’t you dare speak her name!”

The ground trembled as Sweetie launched herself at Fleur with even greater vigor.

And Fleur did not balk. Her hoofwork, sloppy at first, quickly found the flow of Sweetie’s strikes. Eyes darting to follow Durandel’s exceptional speed slowed, and settled onto Sweetie’s face. Flustered breaths evened out as if Fleur were doing nothing more than strolling through a park. Resignation and peace cloaked Fleur, while brutish hatred and burning rage were Sweetie’s armour.

Fleur’s calm demeanor only heightened Sweetie’s rage.

“Nopony else has the right to say her name!”

Every blow, no matter how strong, no matter how cunning, was met by shield or spear. Fleur began to move Pallas to intercept Durandel before Sweetie had even started her swings. Somehow, she knew Sweetie’s attacks before Sweetie herself.

Around them the mortals and undead moved as if in sticky sap, motions slow and languid as alicorn and demon battled at impossible speeds. So much power flowed through Sweetie, and yet she was unable to catch Fleur. This pampered, pompous, presumptive pony who’d dared try to steal away her sister.

Who’d wanted to take her Rarity away for herself.

A frustrated scream burned in Sweetie’s throat.

Why? Why? Why?

Why couldn’t she get her revenge?

Why couldn’t she stop bad things from happening?

Why couldn’t she protect anypony?

Sweetie didn’t even realise she howled each accusatory question.

“Sweetie, I loved Rarity too,” Fleur spoke softly, her swings growing faster, more fluid as she lept, parried, and blocked. “Her loss pains me every day.”

Tears flowed down Sweetie’s face.

“Then bring her back!” Sweetie screamed. “Then bring back my friends!”

A swing that would have taken Fleur’s head was ducked as casually as going under a branch. Thrusts aimed at Fleur’s heart were danced around as if she were on a ballroom floor. Cleaving blows found only hard packed earth as they entered the fog pooling at the base of the cliff where Apple Bloom and Scootaloo had fallen.

Somewhere in the muck and filth and blood would be their unmoving bodies.

The image of them lying broken drove Sweetie into a greater frenzy. Her swings became stronger, but sloppier. Every blow made the disc quake and cut deep gorges into Kiligriffjaro’s side.

“Why did they die!?” Sweetie demanded, panting as she brought Durandel up to her side in a high guard. “Why must everypony I love leave me!?”

“Sweetie!” Somepony yelled, their voice distant and almost lost in the din of the battle.

Caught off guard, Sweetie twisted about and Durandel was brought down with all her infernal might. A heavy clang boomed across the savannah as Pallas intercepted the blade and diverted it into the ground next Scootaloo and Apple Bloom.

Shock rocked Sweetie onto the back of her hooves as her dead friends emerged from the smoke of the battle. Warm, living legs wrapped themselves around her neck, and faces buried themselves into her shoulders.

Durandel clattered to the ground.

“B-but, you’re dead!” Sweetie protested, sinking to her knees so she could wrap her hooves around her most precious friends. “I thought you dead!”

“She saved us,” Apple Bloom said softly as Gilda limped out of the smoke, leaning heavily against Rainbow Dash. “She saved us.”

Sweetie blinked through the tears streaming down her cheeks and from her chin. A single, unending howl of grief wracked her body. Into it she poured the last of her rage. The flames of Wrath blazed higher and then guttered. Spent.

Sobbing, Sweetie buried her face between her friends.

Fleur smiled, and lifted Talona from her back. Tiny, black hooves reached for her. “Mommy!” Talona joyously whimpered. Crystalline tears rimmed Fleur’s brilliant eyes as she brought Talona into a hug of her own.

“Mommy?” Fleur half-laughed and half-sobbed, emotion welling in her throat. “Are you okay, little one?”

So young, so little, Talona nodded and clutched Fleur tighter as if afraid that if she let go Fleur would disappear. Fleur clung to her just as tightly, her whole body shaking

“This is why Authea sent me east. It was never about freeing me from Athena. Jusqu'où pouvait-elle voir?”

The Battle of the Summer Sun came to a close, and everypony breathed sighs of relief at being reunited at long last. Sister held sister. A new mother held the foal of a goddess with whom she’d shared her body, and even her soul.

Author's Note

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Translation:

“Jusqu'où pouvait-elle voir?”; “How far could she see?”

I was struggling with how to tie up this chapter for the longest time. And then episode 19 of Kimetsu No Yaiba aired. It struck me that my trouble was trying to be High Fantasy, and instead I should just go full shonen at this juncture between Fleur and Sweetie. I’ve been having trouble juggling the characters, finding satisfying conclusions to around a dozen threads, and then writing them without feeling either cliche or bored. I had tried to just cut Gilda out of the story. Honey Mead convinced me to keep her in for a last hurrah, but finding a purpose proved tricky. Looking back, I can’t imagine these chapters without her.

The last few months have been a sequence of revelations working on the last three chapters. The charge of the griffons from the cloud was one. Incorporating Gilda into it another. Sweetie falling, and her last minute redemption. Then came a constant re-kajiggering of the order to figure out which chapter should go where. Even after I published the other chapters I kept getting the itch that I put things out of sequence or little changes here and there that I wish I'd thought of earlier.

Kamado Tanjirou no Uta became my go-to writing music for both Gilda during her chase of Hydros, saving the CMC, and then her time on the banks of the Styx, as well as Sweetie while fighting Fleur. The manga tropes and influences are probably easy to spot. Gilda seeing a flash of Blinka in the split second she has to choose between revenge and saving three falling fillies was inspired by many a shounen story, as was Sweetie grow more and more frustrated and demanding why she couldn’t beat Fleur, her strikes growing my wild with each passing moment.

Anyways, this mostly wraps up a whole slew of plotlines and threads. Gilda is done. Sweetie is effectively done. Both tag along with what is to happen next, but their arcs have reached their conclusions. Fleur’s is likewise mostly complete, but she has work yet to do with Twilight.

The Titan of the Stars is coming, and the final showdown with Hades is about to occur.

Book Two: Chapter Twenty-Four: An Alicorn's Judgement

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duty and Dreams
Chapter Twenty Four: An Alicorn’s Judgement

The night swirled through Twilight.

She was one with it.

An extension of it manifested on the disc, and it was Her in the heavens above. It was hers to command. To create. To guide and protect with her legion of stars. To sculpt and mold as She saw fit. And to use to bring Her holy judgement down on everypony beneath Her gaze.

Selene was now the bridge, a transient wanderer who belonged to neither the Day nor the Night, but found herself in both realms. Luna would surely be grateful for the respite. For the gift of being able to spend time with Celestia unencumbered by worrying about the Night.

Twilight would safeguard the disc in their stead.

The bells of Zerubaba marked noon in a resounding chorus as Twilight appeared over the city. Around Zerubaba, Luna and Fluttershy’s protective dome warded off the black shapes of thanes. The spirits formed a thick, ominous cloud as they darted this way and that around the edges of the dome like a flock of starlings. In flowing murmurations they swept to the top of the dome at Twilight’s arrival, and then zig-zagged down to the coastal side before heading back inland.

Ignoring the thane’s antics, Twilight banked into a lazy descent towards the Tamil Tahree. She would deal with the thanes in due time, as well as their master. They would all be put into their proper order.

The Imperial Guard waited at attention before the grand temple, and around them was an expansive crowd that filled the gardens, the plaza, and the nearby streets. Every zebra in Zerubaba and the surrounding towns filled the area around the temple, clogging the city in a sea of black and white. A cheer rose up from the crowd as Twilight approached. The guards stamped their hooves and saluted the moment her hooves gently graced the velvet carpet leading up the steps. As with the thanes, she ignored the flagrant pageantry, and headed straight into the temple.

There Her star—Her Samalla—waited.

Third to last on the disc.

She was so close to being complete.

Order and Safety near to being achieved for Her little ponies.

Inside the grand tomb waited Empress Maatsheptra and her entire court. They formed a pocket around the raised dias holding Samalla’s sarcophagus, with only the empress standing between it and Twilight. Maatsheptra wore a broad grin and a shimmering silk dress that accentuated the curves of her flanks and slender legs.

“And so the Stars come to grace great Zebrica with their presence once more,” Maatsheptra intoned in a voice amplified by magic so as to carry out over the crowds beyond the temple. She bowed low, prostrating herself on the soft carpet. The court mimicked the empress, a rustle rippling throughout the temple as they touched their faces to the cold stone. “Command your subjects, beloved mistress of the heavens.”

Twilight ignored the empress and her theatrics. They were pointless and immaterial for the moment. Her goal was in sight, and then she’d deal with the empress.

A flick of her eyes flung the sarcophagus’s lid aside. With a rattling crash at the base of the short steps it broke in two halves, the nobles jumping to avoid the spray of stone shards. A worried murmur rippled through some corners of the crowd. Reaching into the dark interior of the sarcophagus, Twilight pulled free Samalla’s metallic heart, and as she’d done so many times now, re-ignited the dead star.

The crowd gasped and covered their faces at the brilliant inferno blossomed from the formerly cold, dead star.

Samalla yawned and stretched out her rekindled body.

Cupping the reborn star in her wings, Twilight gently sent her to the heavens before anything could be said. Sucking in a deep breath, she basked in the calming warmth of her stars. Everything was becoming so clear. As if she’d observed the disc through broken windows, the many facets creating refractions and distorting reality. Each restored star fixed a crack, brought the truth of the disc into ever sharper focus. And the image painted was one of misery, fear, and hate.

Two more stars and she’d be complete.

Two more stars and she would wipe away all suffering and cruelty.

Opening her eyes, Twilight turned her attention towards the empress.

“You tried to manipulate me.” The fact echoed in the marble temple, bursting out to the streets beyond. Twilight tingled at the confidence flowing into her from the stars. Surely, this is how Celestia always felt.

Continuing to prostrate herself, Maatsheptra cried out, “Never, glorious one!”

Twilight’s frown deepened at the denial. Especially one so painfully false. “I want to know why. What is your goal?”

“I’ve known of your ascension since I was a tiny foal. I’ve known all my life that it was the stars who would guide me to greatness, and one did! The jet jewel, Algol, saved me. Raised me. Sculpted me. And through her, through the stars, I claimed dominion over Zebrica and began to reshape it into an empire fit to serve as your instrument on the disc.” There was a gleam of madness in Maatsheptra’s gemlike eyes. “You saved my daughter, and I am forever your servant.”

Twilight regarded the empress coldly. “You’re still playing games, but they hardly matter. I’m abolishing all nations. There will be no more wars. No more hunger. Everypony—and zebra—will be sheltered beneath my wings. But, first, I must deal with those who are a threat, or hurt those I intend to protect.”

“Yes! Exactly! A ruler must get their hooves dirty to ensure the success of their nation, or the entire disc! You understand.” Maatsheptra sauntered towards Twilight, seductively swaying her hips, her lips curving into a tight smile. “You are our goddess—My goddess—the ruler of Ioka. None is more deserving.

“Let them see who you truly are,” Maatsheptra purred into Twilight’s ear. Her hoof came up to caress Twilight’s cheek. “Lead us into a glorious future, and I will be there by your side, your most dedicated Imperial High Priestess.”

With a flick of a wing, Twilight slapped Maatsheptra’s hoof away. Surprise flashed over the empress’s face. Revulsion boiled in Twilight’s stomach. She couldn’t believe she’d been so blind to the manipulative, self-serving, vileness lurking in the empress.

No, she’d been aware, she’d just been too weak to do anything about it.

Wrapping herself in a cloak of pretentious morals and justifications to avoid dealing with the empress.

Allowing herself to be swayed, to be pushed and pulled into turning a blind eye to the suffering of the common zebras in the empire. Seduced by honeyed words and naivete.

A slight warmth crept over Twilight’s cheeks as she remembered her time in Zerubaba. Of the night spent in tangled sheets and legs, seduced by velvetine words and soft lips.

Almost as fast, a cold fury took root. A fury that burned brighter than all her stars combined.

When she spoke, Twilight’s voice was like a clap of thunder in a mountainous valley.

“You tormented and killed tens of thousands of zebras to gain your crown. In the time since, your rule has been marked by war, suffering, and death. Zebras fight for sport for the masses, and you excuse it as ‘just tradition’. You claim that a ruler must do what is best for the nation, yet you don’t even try to alleviate the suffering of your citizens. Instead, you surround yourself with gold and servants. You build and expand your palace as a temple to your own vanity. You have failed as a ruler.”

“No! Never! It is a gift for you! A palace worthy of the Goddess of the Stars!” Maatsheptra protested, but Twilight could see through her lies.

“I’m a princess of Equestria and the Taiga, why would I need another palace?” Twilight advanced, towering over the tall empress. Maathsheptra retreated, backing up the stairs and shrinking underneath Twilight’s fierce gaze. “If you’d really been thinking about what I would have wanted, then you would have put your effort towards building hospitals and schools. To ensuring every zebra was well fed and safe. Well, I will make them safe. Safe from you!”

“From me?” Maatsheptra demanded, her fiery mane bristling, and turned away from Twilight’s withering gaze to the crowd of nobles. Definitely she cried, “Then do what you must! Kill me in front of your loyal subjects! Show them you are to be feared, as they once feared me.”

Twilight hardly heard Maatsheptra, memories of stories she’d heard from other, jealous students when she’d been a filly just starting her apprenticeship popping to the surface.

Stories intended to make her run away and afraid of Celestia.

Stories that gave her an idea.

In the blink of an eye she consulted her stars, querying them for the necessary runes and the formula. Reluctantly, Alnitak, the Stonestar, provided what was demanded.

Already beginning the spell, Twilight said, “There was a rumour once that the statues in Celestia’s gardens were actually ponies she’d turned to stone. Can you believe it? As if Celestia would do something like that. After Discord broke free, the rumours gained renewed traction for a while. Ponies can be so silly!”

Twilight giggled, the sound crackling around the edges with a manic tint. Slowly she advanced on the empress. Blue-white aether formed around her horn as the spell neared completion.

“The rumours were wrong, of course. It does give me an idea, however. I won’t kill you, Maatsheptra. No, I will seal you away. A thousand years trapped in stone, but aware of everything that happens around you. I will put you somewhere you can watch the zebras you manipulated and ruled. Where you can see them lead lives of peace and prosperity. Safe under my protection. Safe from you.”

Grey stone crinkled and snapped at the base of Maatsheptra’s hooves and the tip of her tail. The empress’s eyes widened, panic and terror in equal measure filling them. “This was not what I foresaw! We were supposed to rule together! I was to be your High Priestess and lover!”

“If those visions came from Faust, then it is no surprise they are wrong,” Twilight scoffed, lifting Maatsheptra’s chin with her hoof. “She’s been wrong a lot lately. It is fine, though. She can rest and spend time with Celestia and Luna. I’ll keep everypony safe for her, since she isn’t able to herself.”

Maatsheptra’s mouth fell open, and then became trapped in horror as the grey lines of stone encapsulated her face.

“Twilight! What are you doing?” Luna’s voice cut across the temple.

In the entranceway Luna and Fluttershy stood side by side. Dismay and shock contorted their features, Fluttershy covering her mouth with a hoof.

There was a slight, haggard air about them, one that only their closest friends would notice. A faint hint of bags beginning to form under Luna’s eyes. A minute slump to Fluttershy’s shoulders. Protecting the city for weeks on end, without being able to sleep or take a break, had taken its toll on even them. Still, they probably could endure for months, or even years, before collapsing.

Though that would hardly be necessary. Hades would be stopped before the next dawn, and the thanes made to return to their duty.

“Meting out punishment,” Twilight replied, dragging the tips of her wings along the new statue’s flanks to its shoulders, and up the neck until reaching the chin. “Just like Discord, or Chrysalis; Maatsheptra was an evil pony who caused misery and suffering. Now she can’t. She can think on what she did, and in a hundred or so years, if she’s properly remorseful, I will release her from the spell. See? I’m a merciful pony. It is what Celestia would have done if she were here.”

Luna took a step back as if she’d been slapped. Her wings flew open and anger flashed in her crystal blue eyes.

“My sister is many things, Twilight, but even she wouldn’t do something like that to a mortal pony!”

“I think I am a very good judge of what Celestia would or wouldn’t do,” Twilight curled her nose, her voice containing a deep, rumbling undertone that made the walls shake.

“Even I, um, don’t think Celestia would do something like that,” Fluttershy shook her head sadly. “It is something the alicorns of Gaea would do, though. That is, I think they would. It, um, seems like it, to me, any ways.”

Twilight couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She was helping them! Helping everypony!

Didn’t they understand?

She had to protect everypony from the monsters lurking in the shadows.

It was her duty.

“Are you saying you're going to interfere?” Twilight barely heard the deadly edge in her tone. It sent a little tingle of anticipation up her spine. A part of her wondered who was stronger; Luna, or her.

Luna was older, forged by a far more callous disc. In the old stories, she was the kind of pony willing to do anything to safeguard those she cared about and were under her protection. A pony she could respect. The Book of Selene was replete with tales of Luna battling demons and monsters while protecting villages, princesses, and her friends. Supposedly nopony could best her in battle. Even Celestia heaped praise on Luna’s prowess with blade and war-magic.

Yet, that was the Luna of the ancient past. An insidious voice whispered, asking; ‘what had Luna done since her return to maintain such a reputation?’

Nothing. Every threat to Equestria had been Twilight’s responsibility to resolve. Nightmare Moon. Discord. And even Chrysalis would have caused so much more damage if Twilight hadn’t seen through her plots and rescued Cadence. Leviathan would still threaten the disc.

All that was left was Hades and the other interlopers.

Confidence brimmed in Twilight. She tossed back her midnight mane flecked with the stars—her stars—and smiled at Luna and Fluttershy.

Stepping closer, Twilight was a little startled to notice that she now stood a full hooflength taller than Luna. “I wouldn’t recommend trying to interfere, Luna.”

Sadness, and a deep regret covered Luna’s face. She almost seemed to sag in the middle of the crowd. The zebras were trapped in rapt attention at the upheaval to their empire and the duel of wills.

“You can join me if you want,” Twilight continued, and rolled a wing to towards the eastern doors. “Together we can sweep Hades and his Thanes off the disc, and safeguard our little ponies.”

Luna was silent for a long moment, and then asked in a voice brittle as ice, and just as cold, “It won’t end there, though, will it? It never ends, Twilight. There will always be something else that threatens your little ponies. Paranoia and fear, nightmares and madness, terror and suffering; that is all you will know or create. Ponies will be no safer for your self-proclaimed protection. Please, Twilight, do not go down this path. ‘Tis one of only the deepest regrets. I know.”

Luna reached up with a tender hoof. With a quick flick of her wing, Twilight slapped it aside.

“I am not you, Luna. I don’t have a shade lodged in my soul twisting me to evil.”

“No, you have six thousand, all pulling you in different directions.” Luna countered. “I know the stars well, Twilight. I was their keeper while they waited for your arrival. Their whims are fractious, driven by hidden desires and secret pains. You need to listen, but not let them you control you, dear cousin, or they will drive you mad.”

Bristling, Twilight stomped a hoof, and a tremor shook the city. “That is what I have done! I am in total control of the stars, and myself. They are an extension of me, and I them. There is no need to worry, Luna. I’ll prove it to you. Stay here and keep delaying a symptom of the malady infecting the disc. I’ll deal with the source, just like I always have. I’ll restore the fillies and drive Hades back to Tartarus, or destroy him if he won't leave.”

Twilight marched between Luna and Fluttershy.

“Please, Twilight!” Luna called to her. “There is still hope. Do not continue down this path. It leads only to heartbreak and misery.”

In the grand doorway to the temple, Twilight stopped, and snapped over her shoulder, “I am not like you, Luna. I am in complete control of myself.” Dark light writhed along the edges of her mane like a nest of angered vipers. The smell of burnt aether filled the air. In a black flash she vanished, heading to collect her final stars, and confront Hades.

She appeared at the height of the battle, as the zebras and griffons desperately tried to rally in the face of the undead horde pouring out of Southstone Spires. At once the putrid presence of a demon curled in her nose, and felt not only Hades, but three other alicorns. She caught sight of Fleur, wings spread wide as she dived down into the fray to confront the demon. Part of her wanted to follow and assist in destroying the fiend, and expunging its vile existence from the disc. There was a similar quality to the demon to that exuded by Leviathan, but hotter, more primal in nature.

If Fleur was unable to deal with it, than Twilight would finish what had been started.

In the meantime, she had two stars to collect. Until then, confronting the demon and Hades would have to wait.

Scanning the fields she easily found the stars. Sirius’ weak presence lay directly below, while Algol flew over the battle towards the city.

Excitement tingled up Twilight’s spine. Her alicorn heart drummed a brassy beat. The next chapter of the disc was about to begin, and she was its author, no longer a passive player waiting for the enemy to attack.

A quick blink through the aetheric ley lines brought Twilight to the zebrican command tent. The guards rubbed at their eyes, blinded by the flash of her arrival. Before they could recover she’d stepped into the controlled chaos of the general attempting to salvage the battle.

“What now?” he demanded, but quickly clamped his mouth shut as Twilight looked down to see Sirius body covered in a thin sheet. Blood made it cling to the fallen star, the edges of Sirius’ face leaving an imprint in her death shroud.

Clicking her tongue, Twilight pulled aside the white and red sheet, detached from the carnage of Algol’s heinous act. The warmth hadn’t begun to fade from Sirius’ body. The blood of her murdered star squelching underhoof, Twilight knelt down and laid a wing over the ghastly wound in Sirius’ throat. A simple transfer of aether was all it took, and a sharp gasp filled the tent as Sirius took a deep breath.

Shooting to her hooves, Sirius’ darted a frantic look around, body rigid with tension ready to be unleashed. Anger and hatred mingled in her dark eyes, shifting to shock, and then sadness as Sirius drank in Twilight’s altered appearance.

“Mistress,” Sirius bowed low, nose touching her crusted blood on the carpet. “This was not what I meant when I said you needed to earn my respect.”

Twilight scoffed. “I don’t need any pony’s respect. Just their compliance. Their safety is all that matters.”

Sirius lifted her head, and considered Twilight for a long moment, and then sighed as she straightened. “So you go too far the other way now? First you are passive to the point of cowardice. So, instead of finding a proper middle-ground, you decide to become a tyrant instead. I thought you were close to finding your place when you cast me from the heavens. What does it say of us stars if you are our mistress?”

A deep frown carved itself on Twilight’s face as Sirius spoke. Her ear flicked to the battle raging just beyond the tent. “Your opinion is noted. I have work to do, and don’t have the time to argue.”

“That is true,” Sirius nodded, but her own scowl remained. “Algol seeks to unleash the remaining Great Sins. She’s already enticed some poor soul into releasing Astaroth, and will try to find a way to release the others.”

“Don’t worry, Algol will be put in her proper place very soon.” Twilight clicked her tongue and nodded. “Before I confront Algol, and whatever tricks she thinks will save her; it is time to return you to your sisters. I’m sorry I didn’t seek you out and do this right away. It should have been the first thing I did afterward you fell.”

Sirius shrugged and made to push past Twilight, “We made our choices. I fell in place of a sister. Who do you fall to protect?”

Twilight blocked Sirius with an outstretched wing.

That rational, kind, innocent pony who’d gone to Ponyville those few short years ago, flush with success and vindication at overcoming Nightmare Moon, would have been horrified to see what she’d become. She knew this, in her heart of hearts. She also knew she’d been so horrifyingly naive. How many ponies could she have saved during Chrysalis’ invasion if she’d been a little more forceful of her suspicions? If she’d properly confronted the shapeshifter before things got out of hoof? Or the lives lost on Marelantis? The destruction of Faust’s confrontation with Zeus… So many lives she should have protected.

“Everypony.”

Sirius rolled her eyes.

“Then you really don’t understand anything. You are worse than the naive foal who ascended a few short months ago. She, at least, had hope. All I see now is a tyrant that she would have tried to stop.”

“Your opinion is noted.” Twilight’s tone was as dry as the winds blowing across the savannah. As she gathered the magic to send Sirius back to the heavens, she continued, “We’ll discuss this more after Hades and the other threats are gone. After I send you home.”

A smile creeping at the corner of her mouth, Sirius shook her head. “Even you can’t send me to the heavens yet. My power was spent to fulfill a wish— your wish—and is scattered across the disc, heavens, and mists.”

Twilight snorted defiance.

All the other stars that had fallen and been used for wishes had been returned to the heavens already. There’d been only a few who Luna crudely fashioned into wishes as she’d been a temporary steward. Five or six, at the most. There’d been no issue returning them to their proper place.

A silly bluff.

She tried to grasp Sirius to remold the star, only for her magic slip away. Smoke would have been less immaterial. There was aether aplenty, yet, it wasn’t the right aether.

Tension flaring in her jaw, Twilight tried again. She took hold of the chain linking her to Sirius, grabbed a great swell of aether in her nigh limitless ocean, and attempted to reforge the links. Again, the chain refused her, and remained broken. Broken, but Twilight could feel Sirius in the shattered, twisted aetheric-mental construct.

She could feel the star’s pleasure at Twilight being denied.

“There must be consequences for a Wish.” Sirius smirked, her amusement fueling Twilight’s growing ire. “It may take a lifetime, or several, until my magic is restored to you, and I can return to my sisters.”

Bristling at her failure. At being unable to become truly whole, Twilight let out a long snarl.

“You will never leave my side until I can fix you, and put you back where you belong.”

Sirius shrugged, gave a knowing smile, and said, “We’ll see.”

“I mean it. I’ll fix you.” Twilight promised as she turned to leave the tent, Sirius at her side.

Twilight departed without further comment. To the general and his aides there was nothing to say. His entire role was utterly superfluous.

Taking to the sky, she headed towards Algol.

A chill fell over the battlefield, the din of clashing steel and dying yells fading away as every face turned towards the newcomer. Twilight pulled all attention to her like a black star at the height of noon.

Some zebras fell to their knees, tears of adoration streaming down their faces, and prostrated themselves before the goddess. Others flew into an even greater frenzy. The northernmost flank, so close to breaking, flung themselves harder against the undead pouring over them in an unholy wave. Miraculously they began to regain lost ground.

Twilight ignored them.

As she flew, Twilight swept the area around her of Hades’ vile creations. The spell came to her from Vega, the Vulturestar a repository of knowledge pertaining to the dead, and how to force them to cross the grey mists to Tartarus. A smile crept up Twilight’s face. She was doing Hades’ job for him now.

Maybe she should take his mantle?

Twilight, Goddess of the Stars, Wishes, Protection, and Death? The six thousand lights that sheltered ponies in life, and guided them to the after-life.

The idea was… fascinating.

She continued to examine the possibility as she sped over the battlefield. Undead burst into dust in her shadow, and the living zebras cheered at her passing. She was their dark saviour, the obsidian light in their bleakest hour. The swell of prayers from her passage filled her with greater purpose.

It was less than a minute, but in that time thousands of prayers coalesced inside her. The voices of the soldiers, and the zebras who’d witnessed her in Zerubaba, formed a chorus, pleading for Her guidance.

Her protection.

Hers.

And Hers alone.

Brimming with holy fervour, Twilight tucked her wings, and swept towards the city. The Demonstar was so close, just at the top of the mountain, and along the way was the demonic presence, as well as all the other alicorns. Fleur, Hades, and the other two. Together in one spot.

It was perfect.

Like the disc wanted her to clean up this mess.

Twilight, the great protector of the disc, would happily oblige.

Soir stared across Southstone Spires from the top of the garden tower. A deathly quiet hung over the upper city in a pall so thin the creaking of iron gates in the wind could be heard from the courtyard. Shivering, Soir clutched her hooves around her shoulders.

For what was the thousandth time she asked herself if she’d made a mistake. If she’d somehow failed Faust. She’d been instructed to find Princess Twilight, and she had, and then the princess vanished.

And everything went from bad to worse.

She rubbed her hooves over her forelegs to ward off the bitter chill of the winds around the highest point in the city. Cold as they were, they paled to the freezing lump of loneliness lodged in her chest.

After the equestrian fillies and Talona went to watch the siege down on the plains, Hades secluded himself in misery, hardly moving from his throne. Gaze as lifeless as the rest of the city, he fell further and further into melancholy. In that short time dust had already started to settle on his shoulders, and spider webs clung to the pinions of his feathers. If not for the ever so slight wisps of breath, it’d have been easy to mistake him for a statue.

Soir was alone.

Utterly alone.

“Mama, I never should have left home,” she mumbled to herself, wiping her nose with the back of a hoof.

A bit before noon, Soir began the descent down the winding stairs. As she reached the final landing the castle shook with the reverberations of hundreds of lightning bolts arcing above the castle. Catching herself against the wall, Soir glanced out the narrow window, but didn’t see anything but the boiling clouds. There was an unusual tang in the air, one that made her stomach flop and press her ears back to her skull.

Primal instincts told Soir to run. To run and run and never stop even after reaching the edge of the disc. Her heart quickened, and heat flashed across her face. Sharp screams sounded in her head to the groan of collapsing home as a shattered mountain rained from flame licked skies.

Sweat prickling her face, Soir beat back the rush of memories.

“It was just lightning,” she said to herself, “You are far from the village and Mr. Hades is here.”

“Just Lightning,” she repeated. “Just lightning.”

Soir hurried faster down the stairs.

At the bottom she broke into a gallop. Her heart struck her chest like the pounding of a giant hammer. She hardly slowed as she entered the throne room, and didn’t notice Hades had stirred from his throne.

The God of the Dead stood rigid at the edge of the shattered walls looking out to west. His pose was sharp, head raised to the rain billowing into the chamber and slicking back his silvery mane. At his side hovered his golden bident.

Hades pressed his mouth into a tight line, eyes flashing with loathing mixed with excitement.

“Under my very nose?”

His jaw clenched, and he bared his teeth in a long growl like a panther on the prowl. “Such contempt deserves a response in kind. Oh, yes, I shall respond to this insult.”

Midnight wings spread wide, Hades started to leap skyward when Soir called, “Don’t leave me here, Mr. Hades! Take me with you! I don’t want to be alone.”

Twisting around as he pumped his wings he looked back at Soir, and nodded. “Very well. You are safer at my side regardless. The Queen of Wrath seeks to break into the mortal realms, and we go to silence her rage before its infection spreads.”

As he lifted Soir to his back, Sweetie’s first scream broke across the sky.

“It would be her. Of course. My wits have grown sluggish with age not to have sensed it earlier. Such an angry little pony. A fine vessel for Astaroth. Come, we must hurry before she destroys anypony else.”

Hades began to speed from the castle, but had only reached the second of Southstone’s many tiers when he halted mid-air. Tension ran up his back beneath Soir, and he leaned forward like a cat on a ledge about to pounce. Before Soir could ask what he was doing, he moved off at a sharp angle, paralleling the battlefield, eyes keeping track of something near the bottom of the clouds. He stopped again after a mere mile, right before a pegasus black as himself.

“What are you doing, fallen one?” He demanded, punctuating his words with a thrust of his bident at the mare. “Are you here at Twilight’s behest? Did she think to unleash Astaroth when she failed to best me herself? If so, her plan is short sighted and insipid.”

“Oh, Twilight has no control over me! None! And never will,” Algol snarled, upper lip curling in hate. “As for what I am doing? Just playing a game, Lord Hades. Down there a filly and her friends cling to shades of bright gold and happy pink. Clasped in each others hooves, they believe a mortal could defeat a Queen of Hell. False pink. False gold. Cracked and flawed, ready to shatter when she is devoured.”

“I have had many reports of your actions on this world, Algol, though until I met your mistress, I never fully believed a star could debase herself so far as to consort with demons. From the stench that lingers over you, I have you to thank for Astaroth’s attempt at escaping her prison.”

“That you do,” cackled Algol, her laughter enough to make Soir tremble. The pegasus’ gaze drifted over Hades, and settled on Soir, and there was… warmth just visible behind the swirling pools of madness. Quickly she darted her gaze back to Hades. “Astaroth can only be delayed. Soon, that filly will be consumed body and soul in Her eternal, endless wrath. Her vessel has mere minutes before being burnt out from within, and you can’t have even one, single, little mortal soul lost to a demon, can you, God of the Dead? The great bulwark and warden of the demons; indeed!”

Hades’ growl grew lower, more ominous.

“Your reckoning will come, witch,” Hades warned as he shot past her.

“Perhaps,” she called after him, a sinister ring to her voice. “If Twilight was in control of herself. A shame she has become as dark and twisted as I. It is so… beautiful.”

Algol continued to laugh, the sound like shards of jagged ice jabbed in Soir’s ears. It lingered even as Hades dropped from the sky, angling towards the city gates.

Below them, Soir watched a thick fog creep over the battlefield, obscuring the death and misery. It was nothing like the little faux battles she’d make playing in her garden with flowers for troops, and stones for cavalry. This was real. Far too real. Scrunching her eyes tight, she looked away, but still saw the burning bodies, and the cloying stench of burnt meat filled her nose as the memories of Lourdes returning in a rush of screaming heat and trembling earth.

Her heart beat harder and harder. In the depths of her throat, Soir’s breaths grew raged, sharp as she struggled for air.

Hades came to an abrupt halt. Glancing over his shoulder, he demanded, “Soir? Did the witch do something to you?”

Eyes still scrunched tight she shook her head sharply. “The battle. It reminds me of home. Of that day. When we met.” The words, ‘and momma nearly died,’ stuck in Soir’s throat.

“Ah.”

“Is there anything you can do to stop this, Mr. Hades?” Soir clung tighter to his back, shivering despite the warm breeze rising up from the plains.

He grunted. “Yes, but if I do…” Hades’ voice trailed off as a patch of fog cleared, and the monstrosities he’d created came into clear view pouncing upon a line of beleaguered zebras and griffons united against the undead. “Damnation. Of course she let them loose. I am such a bloody, old, miserable fool! Hold on tight.”

No sooner had he spoken than Hades plummeted from the sky, coming to a very sudden landing just before the sundered gates, undead still jostling to pour out to the charnel fields below. As if a second, invisible wall had sprung up, the grotesque monstrosities stopped just outside the gates. They hissed and spat at Hades and Soir. Some leapt off the side of the cliff, driven by either mindless hunger or fear of the God of the Dead.

“A pox on my anger,” Hades snarled, magic alighting along his horn. “And for being so feeble minded.”

First he pushed the undead back into the city. They snarled and gnashed twisted teeth, but were impotent against his power. The gates shook, and then the broken halves jolted upwards. With a low boom they slammed into the broken frame. Thick iron bars thudded across the gates, and the foul tide of abominations was stopped.

“That will hold a decade or two. More than long enough to create a permanent plan.” Hades’ disgust was etched on his face and the gravel growl of his voice.

As he turned to continue down to the fields, Sweetie’s anguished howl echoed from below. “We must hurry,” was all Hades said as he jumped over the cliff into a steep dive.

In the few minutes they’d spent mending the gates, the fog had grown thicker still, covering the entirety of the plains in an unnatural morass. It bubbled out of the ground. Fissures opened up, and a heavy, sulphurous stench hissed from the cracks. Swirls showed where the armies fought, or more likely retreated in full flight, all semblance of order long since lost.

From above Soir made out a cluster of brightly coated ponies.

“There,” Soir pointed, but Hades had already altered his descent so that they came to a near silent landing only a few paces from the gathering.

Slipping off his back, Soir bounded towards the tight knot of ponies and griffon. A couple looked up as she approached, those Soir didn’t recognise doing double takes, or quickly shifting their attention to the black figure coming up behind her. Soir was surprised to see that among the ponies was Lady Fleur de Lis. She recognised her from the National Gazette and various magazines her mother read. As Prance’s representative in Celestia’s court Fleur was often depicted in articles about Equestria. It was a moment later that she realised the other ponies were members of the Elements of Harmony. The griffon, naturally, Soir did not know.

Addressing Hades, Fleur said, “Fleur de Lis, Goddess of Wisdom. That is how you make introductions, non?”

“Sadly, there is no time for the normal niceties,” Hades replied in his usual, dispassionate drawl. “Take these mortals far from here. I must deal with Astaroth.”

“Sweetie is already better!” Scootaloo shouted, head poking up from the huddle with her friends. Tears matted her face, and her eyes were raw from crying. “She cried, and the anger is gone. Right, Sweetie?”

“If only deals with demons could be so easily sundered,” Hades replied, his tone laced with disdain.

Passing Talona to the griffon, Fleur said, “Monsieur Hades is correct. Sweetie has little time for us to find a solution.”

Looking up at Hades, Soir asked, “You are able to save her, Mr. Hades, right?”

Soir wasn’t entirely certain what, or rather who Sweetie needed saving from, or how they were hurting her. That hardly mattered. Soir knew that something was very wrong with Sweetie.

The creamy white coated unicorn shivered as if she’d been trapped all night in a blizzard. Her lips were blue, and thick sweat matted her face and mane, what was recognisable with the deformity that had become her horn and features. She was also… bigger. Larger than any of the non-alicorns, even though she was hunched over. Soir gasped as she noticed the leathery wings pressed against Sweetie’s withers.

“There is no saving Sweetie Belle,” Hades responded, his tone as cold as a december graveyard. “All I can do is save her soul so that she may have another life. To do so I must send her to the Halls of Perdition within my palace in Tartarus.”

Applejack and Rainbow interposed themselves between Hades and the knot of fillies. “I ain’t letting you lay a feather on her, you hear me?”

“Goes double for me,” Rainbow added.

Hades snorted, and made to push past them. He stopped as Fleur joined Applejack and Rainbow, her expression a stern mask. She didn’t speak, but gave a slight shake of her head.

“You blind, optimistic fools. She is already dead,” frustration ran up Hades jaw in tight waves. “She was dead the instant she opened herself to demonic possession. Just look at her! She has been twisted and deformed. And this is only the beginning. If you stop me, she will suffer in ways you can barely begin to comprehend as her very soul is devoured by Astaroth, leaving her a hollow shell. Her skin will begin to tear as Astaroth takes greater control and forces her way to the surface. Next, her eyes will—”

“All right, we get it!” Applejack yelled, but she wasn’t backing down. “But we don’t need any of your help getting this Astaroth out of Sweetie. We’ll just get Twi, Fluttershy, and…”

Applejack’s voice hitched in her throat, and her face contorted with an odd expression Soir had never seen.

“Where is Twilight, anyways? What did you do to her?” Demanded Rainbow Dash, a few flaps of her wings making it so that she looked down on Hades. “If you’ve hurt her…”

Lips pressed tight, Hades narrowed his eyes into dangerous, blue slits. Exasperation twitched in the corner of his tense jaws, giving him a wild aspect.

“It is my fault she vanished,” Soir answered for Hades. She stepped between the adults as she spoke, drawing their attention. Surprise at seeing a filly with Hades flashed over Applejack and Rainbow’s faces, and both leaned a little towards her. Applejack, in particular, glared suspiciously between Soir and Hades. “Mr. Hades and Twilight, um, fought, and then she vanished. Faust told me to find Twilight, but I hesitated, and now she is gone.”

“Gone?” Applejack and Rainbow shared concerned looks. Rainbow flew a little higher, looking this way and that as if expecting Twilight to be nearby. “Where? We need her! Twilight will figure out how to save Sweetie. She always comes through in the end. Always.”

As if in defiance of Rainbow’s optimism, Sweetie collapsed onto her haunches, hooves wrapping around her chest. She gasped and sucked in laboured breaths like she’d just run a marathon. She shivered and shook, face terribly pale beneath her white coat.

Applejack and Rainbow rushed back to Sweetie, leaving only Fleur to block Hades. It’d only been Fleur’s presence that had stayed his magic thus far. Still, he didn’t try to push past Fleur, instead sizing her up and down with his ancient gaze, and then he simply stepped around her, and she let him pass.

“Sweetie, sugarcube, what’s the matter?” Applejack gently demanded, crouching down and wrapping a hoof over Sweetie’s shoulders.

“The power she accepted is consuming her. It can’t be contained. Not in any mortal vessel, and will burn through her soul. While you stand in the way, more of her is lost, devoured by Astaroth.” Hades loomed large over the cluster of ponies. “Make your choice. Either way, the filly you knew is gone, and I will send Astaroth back to her prison.”

Applejack and Rainbow shared distraught looks.

They glared at Hades.

Glanced with pity and love at Sweetie.

They opened their mouths to speak.

And then Pinkie Pie popped up on Fleur’s back. She thrust a hoof forward, her head lowered like a pointer dog. “Twilight is back!”

Everypony swung around to follow the direction of Pinkie’s hoof. The thick fog cleared, swept away by an unnatural wind that tingled with magic, and Twilight emerged.

What joy had begun to form in Soir’s chest at Pinkie’s announcement dropped to the darkest parts of Tartarus as she stared at Twilight.

Statuesque, Twilight was taller than Hades by a good two hooves. The dress she wore did little to hide a chiseled and well muscled frame, like she’d lived her life on a race track, rather than a library. The underside of Twilight’s wings shimmered like obsidian mirrors of the night sky, hard edges forming between a midnight realm they contained and their grey surroundings. Over her withers cascaded a mane of fiery stars. Brighter and brighter they grew until their sides trembled, and then burst in scintillating ripples that rebounded off the edges of her mane until coalescing into a new star, and the process started all over. Aether leaked from Twilight’s glowing eyes in silvery tears down her scowling face.

Hades and Fleur both reared back, and knickered in surprise.

“Don’t worry,” Twilight said, her voice echoing inside her throat and rumbling in Soir’s chest like a clap of thunder. “Now that I am here, I will protect everypony.”

Grabbing onto Hades’ leg, trembling at the raw power exuded by Twilight, Soir asked, “What happened to her, Mr. Hades?”

It was a question on everypony’s mind, and a dozen ears swiveled for his response.

“She has become a Titan.”

A heavy lump lodged itself in Soir’s gut, crushing any hope or relief she might have experienced at, finally, finding Twilight. The title itself crushed her with ominous foreboding.

“A Titan?” Twilight tilted her head. “If that is what ponies call me, fine. I will be Twilight, Titan of Stars, Wishes, Death, and Protection. Titan of Magic itself! Queen of the disc! Foundation of all societies. The shield that keeps evil at bay. Kneel, and you may be spared.”

In all her dark splendor, Twilight reared over friend and god alike.

Author's Note

Wow, this chapter has taken ages to write. Depression hit me hard late last year, and it wasn't until the start-mid December that I really got to work on the chapter. I've been feeling very unequal to the task of concluding Myths to the satisfaction and expectations of everyone.

Another stumbling block was Sweetie and Astaroth. Reading the comments for the past few chapters and thinking things over, it just didn't fit the rules as laid out in the story that it'd be so easy for Sweetie to reject Astaroth. A temporary reprieve does, however. This does mean that I'm still having to balance that spinning plate for the Titanomanchy. Which is good. Gives focus of action and consequences beyond just Hades and Twilight butting heads. It's a gloriously complicated mess of vying villains and heroes for the finale.

Given the complexity of the events and number of characters involved, I doubt that the next chapter will come any faster than this one. But, I could always surprise myself. Once I had the two threads for this chapter they resolved themselves relatively quickly on the page when I managed to write. There is just a heap of real-life distractions, responsibilities, and my own mental health that keeps clubbing me over the head and holding me up.

Speaking honestly, one of my biggest worries is Twilight, and how she acts. I'm hopeful that her actions and choices at least makes sense, and feel plausible given everything she's experienced and the power she now wields. At the same time, it's hard making her still be essentially Twilight. Writing an established character that falls in such a manner is challenging, and nerve wracking. It's given me more respect for authors who write extended universe fiction for other properties like Star Trek, Star Wars, and so on.

I really hope that this chapter was enjoyable and not too cliche.

Book Two: Chapter Twenty-Five: The Titanomanchy

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duty and Dreams
Chapter Twenty-Five: The Titanomanchy

Fleur was the first to act.

She threw herself at Twilight, shoulder lowered, spear and shield tucked close to her sides. The ground cracked with the strength of her legs. Air became distorted, bending until it snapped from her passage. Tackling Twilight, she flung them both skyward, leaving a shallow crater from the force of her kick. Aegis and Pallas flew beside Fleur, the mighty shield catching a kick

Higher, higher, and higher they rocketed. The ground shook with their repeated blows, Twilight's hooves hammering against Aegis. Fleur reversed Pallas and thrust with the blunted butt end. To her shock, Twilight caught the shaft under her leg, grabbed Fleur’s mane with her magic, spun them both, and then hurled Fleur back to the disc.

A white comet trailing pink, Fleur clipped a distant ridge of Kiligrifjaro. She tore through the mountain, its granite core unable to halt her flight. The cloud of dust hid the rest of her calamitous flight from the knot of observing ponies. Underhoof the ground shook as Fleur crashed into the far northern plains many miles away.

Shock bleaching the colour from their fur, Applejack and Rainbow Dash just stared for an eternally long second up at their friend.

“Nopony will say I didn’t give you a fair chance, Fleur!” Twilight’s amplified voice carried to every corner of the fields. “It’s obvious that the shade you harboured has corrupted you.”

At the tip of Twilight’s horn, a globule of twisted blue-black magic gathered. Her dress billowed around her, and from her pouches fluttered a trio of scrolls, caught in the magical nexus she conjured.

Soir’s tongue tingled with a sour aftertaste from the dark aether permeating the air. She backed up further against Hades, and looked up to see what he was going to do just as Twilight unleashed a lance of putrid energy.

There was a shrill scream like the angry cords of a guitar string being pulled in half as the foul energies cut through the afternoon towards Fleur. They pierced the thick cloud of dust Fleur had cast up in her crash, and the ground shook again.

Soir’s heart sank, and tears ran freely down her face.

She saw Faust’s broken body from the day Lourdes had been destroyed, only this time it was Fleur. It was only a fleeting image, born of the deepest dread.

It broke as the lance of blackest magic shot back into the sky, and out of the dust appeared Fleur. Wings straining, she huddled behind Aegis’ unbreakable face, using the shield to turn Twilight’s magic aside.

If Fleur said anything to Twilight as she hurtled towards her friend it was swallowed by the wind and the horrible shrieking of Twilight’s magic as she conjured a second, and then third bolt.

The second was turned toward the city, where it pierced the great shield Hades used to keep the remaining undead contained. A large swath of the blue shell was peeled away, leaving a gaping hole along one side of the dome.

The third cut a gash across the battlefield, leaving a shallow canyon that split the reeling zebrican army. Miraculously, no one was caught in the actual blast, or if they were not even ash remained.

Remorseful determination in the tight corners of her eyes, Fleur swung Aegis as hard as she could with her new alicorn strength. At the same moment there was a flash next to Twilight, a slit opening in the air through with a second, midnight sky could be seen. From the slit emerged Llallawynn.

“You should have just gone back to Canterlot and been happy!” Twilight brought Llallawynn down on Aegis in a tremendous stroke. Where nothing before had been able to harm Aegis, the starheart steel blade bit into the aurichalcum shield.

Fleur darted back, putting a little distance between her and Twilight, tucking Aegis close to her shoulder. Smirking, Twilight dismissed Llallawynn, confident that she’d proven that the fabled shield could no longer be relied upon.

“Please, Twilight, I know this is not the real you. Vos amis ont besoin de vous,” Fleur tried to reason with the titan.

Curling her lip, Twilight snarled. “What I want. What Applejack, Pinkie, Fluttershy, or Rainbow Dash want doesn’t matter. I am what the disc requires!” Hundreds of smaller, bright violet darts flashed from the Twilight’s horn, showering Fleur and the lands beneath her. Aegis blocked many, turning them aside.

Leaping forward, Sirius spread her wings and let out a shout as she formed a dome of roiling orange-red flames over the cluster of ponies. Soir ducked, covering her head and tensing as the darts drove into the ground and shattered harmlessly against Sirius’ spell. Dirt pitter-pattered through Sirius’ magic in a thin smattering that pelted lightly against Soir’s face.

As she uncovered her eyes, Soir was surprised to find a number of thanes gathered around Sirius, their shadowy wings splayed, but ignoring the calamity unfolding overhead. Silently they watched Hades, their presence as unnerving as the fiery magics on display in the sky.

“Lord Hades, what are they doing here?” Sirius demanded over her shoulder as she struggled to maintain her spell.

Ignoring Sirius, Hades addressed the thanes. “Return the souls collected. I recant my curse.” Hades shook grit and gravel from his wings, glaring at the darting lights pulsing above. “And contact the gods of Ioka. They are all to come. We must gather to end the threat of this titan. I am calling for a Titanomachy.”

The thanes bowed. Though their stony expressions hid it, secret joy filled them. With great fervor they vanished into the grey mists where they’d hidden the souls taken from the first-born fillies. At Zerubaba the swarm besieging the city cocked their ears, then dispersed in a sudden flourish. In all corners of the disc fillies began to awaken, jolting up in their beds and rubbing away the thick crust of sleep from their eyes, none the wiser for the weeks they’d spent comatose. Parents cried out in joy, and doctors scratched their heads utterly baffled by the end of the disease, just as they had been by its emergence. In Castle Canterlot’s throne room, the Crystal Palace, and Thornhaven messengers appeared, conveying Hades call to gather.

Back in Griphonia, Hades addressed the Elements and cluster of fillies. “We need to hurry. Fleur won’t be able to hold Twilight’s attention long, and the other alicorns won’t arrive in time.”

Turning away from the clashing blades and crashing blows of the alicorns overhead, Soir saw that Hades had started a spell of his own. Applejack and Rainbow Dash snapped out of their stupors and started to intercept Hades, distrust working at the corner of their jaws.

“Now, see here—” Applejack began, but stopped at a gesture of Hades’ wing, a silvery-sheen encompassing her and Rainbow. Both were held in an unyielding grasp of magic, bodies locked in place and voices stifled. Behind them, Gilda clutched Talona tight, her eyes darting between Hades and the Elements.

Plucking up a protesting Apple Bloom and Scootaloo, Hades simultaneously stamped a hoof to the ground. There was a rumble deep under Soir, and then the earth heaved and was swept aside as a flat slab of granite emerged. Setting the fillies down next to the Elements, Hades moved onto the next spell without missing a moment. He was deep in the throws of ancient magics born in the time of primordial dreams and shifting nightmares. His eyes glowed like luminous blue jewels in the bottom of a crystalline clear pond beneath the full moon, and his mouth formed silent words that resonated in Soir’s bones.

Far overhead the sky shook and the heavens trembled as Fleur and Twilight clashed again.

Hades ignored them.

Circles and sharp lines burned themselves into the granite slab. They cut elegant arcs, connecting and then splitting, forming a series of three triangles, and a half-moon encompassing a twisted sun. Runes unfurled in the spaces between the outermost circles, and then down the straight lines towards the heart of the circle. To where Sweetie sat on her haunches rocking back and forth, tears of thick, oily black ichor running from milky white eyes.

As he worked, with the disc shaking from the battle between alicorns, Hades said to Rainbow and Applejack, “Once I start, this can not be stopped with cataclysmic results. When completed Sweetie will be saved, or lost for all time. If I fail, you will have but a moment to flee. In the worst outcome, I will be weakened for a time, and there will be the angriest being in creation with which to contend. Our only hope will be that the Queen of Wrath will draw Twilight’s attention, and when they have worn themselves out against each other we may deal with them both.”

“Roger, roger!” Pinkie popped up between her friends, and saluted. After a moment of exchanged looks, Rainbow and Applejack nodded.

Hades nodded to Pinkie, and said. “Very good. Let us commence.”

A beam of silver spun from the tip of his horn. It struck Sweetie between her eyes, and engulfed her in light. There followed a deep, bassy boom disconnected from the battle overhead.

And then bodiless laughter that tore from the ground.

In the sky god and titan clashed with spell and sinew. On the ground god and demon slammed their wills against the other.

The amount of raw, spent aether drifting in the air was almost suffocating. Even the battle at Lourdes was only a shadow next to the power on display.

Soir shook her head violently as a pink streak blazed across the now cloudless crystalline sky. Shockwaves rippled from an impact that blasted over the fields, kicking up clouds of stinging dirt and whipping Soir’s mane and tail about. Her ears rang from the low booms and sharp refrains of the battle overhead.

Through it all Twilight never moved as Fleur darted in, and then dashed back to safety before arcing in for another exchange.

Soir’s heart thudded harder and harder in her chest.

She curled her hooves around herself as Twilight began to laugh, the mad sound louder than even the continual, cloudless thunder of Fleur’s attacks.

“You are safe here.” Hades said as he worked his magic, extending a black wing over Soir. “I swear it to you.”

Soir looked up at Hades. Her mouth was dry as the great desert they had crossed. Her legs shook from more than just the continual tremours rippling through the earth.

Yet, she felt safe next to the God of the Dead.

He was her protector, even if she didn’t deserve it.

Not when she was so weak and useless. Unable to cast even the most minor cantrip.

And with gods, titans, and demons waging war.

Swallowing her fear, Soir stepped closer to Hades.

Fully immersed in his primordial spellweaving, Hades didn’t respond as she wrapped her forehooves around his own, thickly muscled leg. The bright nimbus of spiraling silvery blue aether cascaded from the tip of his horn. He gave a low grunt and dug his hooves into the stone.

A feral growl rumbled in Sweetie’s throat. Her eyes flashed like rubies, and she hurled herself against the innermost ring of the circle. Splits clove Sweetie’s hooves as she scraped them across an invisible barrier. Froth flying from her mouth she paced and snarled like a feral beast, throwing herself against a different portion of the ring after a few turns. On the third attempt the inner ring of the circle cracked, trembled, and then shattered.

Hades grunted and tensed as if he’d been bucked in the face. The beam coming from his horn doubled in intensity.

Out of the corner of her eye, Soir noticed at the last moment a ball of black fire roaring towards the cluster of ponies and casting circle. At the heart of the obsidian flames was Fleur, mane and wingtips burning as she used Aegis and spell to hurled back the brunt of the spell. Unable to stop her fall, she ripped through Sirius’ protective bubble as if it were made of wet tissue paper.

Fleur struck the earth just beyond the casting circle. Sharp shards of earth pelted the knot of ponies. Soir yelped and tried to cover her face as she was picked up and thrown by a gust of wind from Fleur’s crash. She was lucky, bouncing against Hades’ unmoving side. Everypony else was sent tumbling and rolling through the brittle grass. Pallas and Aegis fell on the far side of the casting circle, the holy armaments forming twin craters. Picked up again by the gusts caused by the weapon’s crash, the ponies were sent back towards the casting circle. Wrapping her talons around the fillies she’d been entrusted, Gilda hit her temple against a rock with a sickening smack. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. She lay very still, but breathing, Soarin and Applejack hurrying over to check on her and the fillies. The others were all battered, but nopony else seriously hurt.

Panting, Fleur pushed herself up on shaky legs. A thick lather of sweat covered the newly ascended goddess. Her breaths were laboured, but her eyes held the same steely light. Before she could launch herself back into the fray, Twilight came to her.

Slamming down just in front of Fleur, Twilight back-hoofed her before she could react even with her enhanced sight. The percussion of the blow knocked Soir flat as Fleur was sent careening through the magical barrier surrounding Southstone Spires. Several puffs of smoke lifted from buildings toppling, and Fleur didn’t reappear this time. Quick as a cobra strike, Twilight’s gaze snapped towards Hades.

Over twelve hoof-lengths tall, Twilight very literally towered over the gathered ponies. As Soir cowered, Twilight continued to grow, her mane and tail elongating, wingtips gouging the earth like talons raked through soft sand.

“I won’t let you summon her!” Twilight growled in the back of her throat, menace flashing like the flickering of a flame in a snarling tiger’s eyes. She raised a hoof, and brought it down towards Hades’ exposed back. Trapped in the spell he couldn’t defend himself against the oncoming blow.

“No!” Pinkie yelled at the top of her lungs, flinging herself sidelong through the air with hooves outstretched to intercept Twilight’s strike. Soir tried to cringe, to look away, but Twilight moved too fast.

At the last instant Twilight diverted her swing. Had it landed nothing would have remained of Pinkie. The disc heaved and cracked. Winds blasted from the point where Twilight struck the disc. A mile long chasm, curling around the base of the mountain, began from where her hoof landed.

Mane lanky, and tears welling in her eyes, Pinkie faced down Twilight.

Twilight didn’t look at Pinkie, her focus on the chasm emerging from beneath her hoof. Her wings began to tremble, and her face curled with fear.

“Move aside, Pinkie,” Twilight said, thunder rumbling deep in her throat as magic filled the command.

“Nope!” Pinkie responded, defiance scrunching up her face. “You need to take a time-out, Twilight!”

The ludicrous statement made Soir reel back in surprise. It evidently had the same effect on Twilight, the towering titan letting out a guffaw and shaking her head.

“I don’t have time! Hades is using Sweetie to summon a Queen of Hell!”

“Nope!” Pinkie again said. “He is helping her! He is going to save Sweetie. Unlike you!”

A sharp crack sounded over the fields as Sweetie struck the barrier keeping her in place. Twilight’s eyes flickered towards the casting circle, and her mouth pressed into a determined line, before returning to Pinkie.

“This is a dangerous place, Pinkie. You really should go home to Ponyville.” Twilight’s horn glowed with magic, and before Pinkie could protest anymore, she, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Soarin popped out of existence. Not just them, Soir realised as Scootaloo and Apple Bloom had also vanished.

“There, that’s better. Now I don’t have to worry about hurting the good ponies.”

Tending to Gilda and the sobbing Talona, Sirius demanded, “What did you do to them?”

“I sent them back to the Bellerophon,” Twilight answered. “Ponyville was a bit too far away. Captain Hardy and the others will take care of them. Do you want me to send you there too? You’ll be safe there, and Gilda looks hurt. Yes, she needs a doctor. I will send you too. This place is becoming too dangerous for you, my little star.”

Before she’d finished speaking, Twilight cast her spell again, and Gilda, Talona, and Sirius vanished.

Smiling smugly, Twilight returned her attention to Hades. “Now, to the matter at hoof.”

Behind Soir, Hades yelled with the effort to save Sweetie. In front of her towered Twilight, a twitch in the mad-god’s left eye. Heart crashing inside her chest, Soir had never felt so small and powerless.

So completely, and utterly useless.

An inconvenience anchored around capable ponies’ necks.

Curling into a ball beside Hades, Soir wished with all her being that she’d never left home. That she had stayed in Lourdes with her mama. There she wouldn’t have been a bother to anypony. There she could hide and not have any responsibilities to find gods and save the world.

The ground trembled as Twilight took a step closer.

This was it, Soir realised. The grand adventure with the strange foreigner was over, and at the end was fear, misery, and doubt.

As Soir trembled, terrified tears blurring her vision, she saw in the dirt where Pinkie had been a pink glimmer from a gem. Rubbing clear one eye, Soir looked harder in surprise. It was a large, rough gemstone. Inside it something called to her. Cautiously, she reached out, grabbed it in a hoof, and pulled it to her chest. The crystal was warm to the touch, and oddly soft, like cotton candy.

Picking up the crystal also grabbed Twilight’s attention. The titan’s gaze locked onto Soir, and the flickering object she cradled.

“Shades,” Twilight hissed, mane violently whipping around her, “I should have finished the job in Zerubaba. Give that to me.”

“No!” Soir pressed herself tighter against Hades’ leg.

Hades glanced over, but locked in his spell, there was little he could do to intervene. He had to complete the ritual in order to save Sweetie. The beam arced brighter, a thick pulse knocking Sweetie back into the middle of the circle. Hooked silver chains manifested around Sweetie’s limbs and neck, biting into flesh without drawing blood. Straining, aetheric metal flexing to the edge of breaking, the hooks began to pull Astaroth’s palid form slowly out of Sweetie.

Low, feral growls rattled in Sweetie’s throat. Sweat trickled down her face, and she clutched her hooves tight to her chest as she rocked back and forth. Her eyes bulged, wide and panic stricken. Digging her hooves into the hardened earth, she threw herself against the barrier again, and again, and again. Cracks began to worm through the field keeping her in the spell circle. The back of Astaroth’s head emerged, sliding from Sweetie with a sickening squelch. Poisonous steam curled from the edges of Astaroth’s exposed mouth, and her cold eyes fixated on Hades, Soir, and Twilight. Half exposed, the Queen of Wrath fought with all her impossible strength, digging her own claws deeper into Sweetie. With a last, desperate screech, the demoness charged the nearly fractured wards.

At the same time Twilight reached down towards Soir, and the stone she desperately clutched.

“Give me Authea!” There was a flash of fear in Twilight’s eyes. Something about the crystal worried the unstoppable titan. “She is too dangerous!”

Hades looked between Sweetie, a thick lather covering her mutated body with Astaroth almost fully exposed, and Twilight leaning towards Soir.

Soir looked up at him, and tried to convey in that momentary glance that he needed to finish his spell. He gazed back, regret in his ancient blue eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Hades said, and he cut the beam connecting him to Sweetie, spun as he engulfed Soir in his wings, and leapt from the casting circle.

The moment he broke his spell the barrier holding Sweetie in place shattered. The chains dragging Astaroth free snapped, and the demon slammed back into Sweetie. Pained panic was replaced with hungry triumph, a vindictive grin splitting Sweetie’s mouth.

“No!” Soir shrieked, hoof outstretched towards Sweetie.

Except, Sweetie was gone. Any vestiges of the filly devoured by Astaroth. A sickening refrain of bones snapping brought bile to Soir’s mouth as what had been Sweetie was remade into a horrific perversion of life. Hooves cracked apart, long fingers and green nailed toes bursting from what had been the frogs of hooves. Limbs elongated, becoming thin as Astaroth’s body swelled and shrank at the same time, fur falling out in thick clumps to reveal taught skin over ribs and bony hips. Only her mane remained, retaining the white and pink tones of Sweetie, descending over Astaroth’s face, hiding it behind wispy curtains. Long, leathery wings grew longer still, like blades thrust out from between Astaroth’s shoulders. The skin on Astaroth’s brow split, and from it emerged a crown of frozen blood.

Fast as a pouncing panther, growls turning into unearthly howls, Astaroth hurled herself towards Twilight with a mighty thrust of her spidery legs. Hunched forward, she moved in a wholly unnatural manner that made Soir’s mind recoil. There was a flash as the demon crashed into the titan, followed by a bang that rattled Soir’s bones. Twilight was momentarily lifted off her hooves by the blow to her sternum, her own eyes wide with shock at the strength within the demon queen.

“We have to go back,” Soir grabbed at Hades’ silvery mane with her free hoof. “We have to save Sweetie!”

Hades sadly shook his head. “Nothing can save her now. It would take a miracle beyond what any god can perform to bring her back. Sweetie is gone, body and soul. All that remains is Astaroth.”

A dreadful lump lodged itself in Soir’s throat. Hades would have saved Sweetie if it weren’t for her. He’d been only a few moments away from purging the demon. A few seconds. A few more seconds…

Tears streamed down Soir’s face as she watched Astaroth clash with Twilight. There was nothing equine about the demon. She stood as tall as Twilight, long arms entwined around the titan, broken shackles dangling from her wrists draped across the earth. Diseased steam whistled through hooked teeth, cracks leaking black blood from grinning lips. Head shooting forward, Astaroth bit Twilight on the shoulder.

A roar of pain and frustration broke from Twilight. Magic pulsed around her horn. Stormy clouds were torn apart, and in their place a giant, aetheric circle appeared. Thousands of runes formed clockwork lattices far more intricate than those Hades used in his attempt to purge Astaroth. Pulses of lavender energy coursed around the outer rim, down the bands connected to the circle’s core, and along the interwoven spans.

Sensing danger, Astaroth released Twilight just as a singular beam of pristine starlight emerged from the center of the circle. Astaroth reached up to grab the oncoming beam. It cut through her hand, severing fingers, wrist, elbow, and shoulder before driving the demoness deep into the ground, burning a sunken hole through the disc’s crust down to the underlying mantle.

Twilight, having not moved a step even as her own spell cascaded over her, narrowed her eyes as she peered into the hole.

Gently laying a hoof to the wound on her shoulder as skin knitted together and flesh mended, Twilight mused, “Maybe I worried over nothing.”

No sooner did Twilight speak than the ground beneath her gave way and Astaroth emerged, driving her crown of frozen blood into Twilight’s stomach and flinging the titan skyward right towards Hades and Soir. A heavy thrust of his wings pushed Hades out of Twilight’s path at the last moment. Almost thrown off, Soir buried herself deeper into Hade’s shoulders as she clung to him for dear life. Astaroth emerged from the ground, arm and hand regenerating, new muscle binding itself to bleached bones as skin crawled over new flesh. With a sickening crack, her lower jaw dislocated, hanging open to reveal row upon row of hooked teeth. The foul vapours leaking from Astaroth’s open maw were sucked back in as her belly ballooned, and then with a gush, a wave of absolute cold was expelled.

Everything in the path of Astaroth’s breath flash-froze like they’d been trapped atop the tallest peak on the northernmost edge of the edge in deepest winter for a thousand years. A raging blizzard clawed into the balmy Griphonian skies, howling with rage pent up since before Ioka was born. Twilight was hit by the full force of the gale, and even with her titanic strength, was sent careening further, tumbling and twisting unable to regain control. After several hundred lengths she thrust out her wings and formed a thin shield around herself to hold the gale at bay.

Beating his wings hard to stay ahead of the gale’s leading edge, Hades charged a spell of his own. Soir was plunged into absolute black for an instant, cold sinking its claws through her coat in that infinitesimal moment, before she was back in the air above Southstone.

Off in the distance, Twilight and Astaroth were dark specks in the blue fabric of the sky.

A flick of Twilight’s wings launched her at Astaroth. She battered aside spell after spell hurled into her path. The heavens trembled as titan crashed into demon, and together screeched towards the ground. Like the ringing of hammers upon anvils they traded blow after blow. Twilight didn’t restrain herself as she had against Fleur. Every kick, every punch, every spell she threw with all her apocalyptic might.

Such was the fury of the exchange that echoes reached over the vast savannah all the way to Zerubaba, and the ancient dragons in their desert lairs began to stir. Even through covered ears, Soir was deafened.

The pair crashed among the remains of the zebrican artillery. Cannons and trebuchets were cast aside like leaves in a strong breeze. Snatching a bronze cannon, Astaroth swung it in both hands like a club. Metal rang as it connected with Twilight’s jaw. Her head snapped sharly to the side as she careened through an abandoned baggage train.

Fast as a panther, Twilight was back on her hooves. Around her a dozen cannons levitated, and then were rocketed at Astaroth.

Astaroth swatted them aside as she would a drunken fly. The cannons were only distractions, as Twilight teleported behind Astaroth and let fly a wild haymaker that sent the demoness tumbling this time.

Even before Twilight gave chase, Astaroth gained control of her flight. She howled and screamed, froth falling from the edges of her foul mouth as Twilight gave chase.

An aetheric whip lashed at Astaroth. It tore through her wings, cut slices that bled a thick, dark ichor from her sides, then wrapped around her leg. Muscles in her neck bulging, Twilight swung Astaroth against the cliffside beneath Southstone Spires. The mountain shook and the cliff face shattered. Debris rained beyond the miasmic horizon.

In a long rumble the mountainside slid, the road into the city falling in a cascade of splintered stone and dust.

Twilight stood unmoving as the mountain fell down around them. She kept Astaroth pressed in the landslide. Boulders and chunks of mountain buffeted them. Astaroth roared defiance at Twilight. Digging her feet into the crumbling ground, her gaunt hands reached around Twilight’s throat. Black talons sank into steel muscles bulging in Twilight’s neck, and with a powerful kick, she threw them both from the landslide and towards Southstone Spire’s middle tier. The aetheric shield around the city flashed as titan and demoness punched through.

Entwined, they crashed among the homes of former merchants and artisans. Buildings tumbled in showers of dust and mud bricks, an obscuring cloud rising over the district like ash from the maw of an angry volcano. Lurid purple-black lightning crackled around the billowing clouds and were spat into the sky. Hades’ barrier around the city flickered, dimmed, and then grew brighter than before, but marred with sickly patches of pulsating algae-like matter.

Soir gulped, and held tighter to Hades’ shoulder.

“We must stop this!” She shouted over the crashing refrain of hidden blows.

Hades didn’t reply, just grimly watching the spectacle.

Somepony kicked the other hard. All Soir could make out was a black streak tumbling and smashing through building after building along an empty market street, followed by the groaning of a thick tower before it began to collapse to the side, crushing a block of abandoned homes. A second figure emerged from the thick clouds, bounding from roof to roof on spidery legs. Moments later Twilight burst from the homes she’d landed among. Pumping her wings, she blazed a sparkling trail as she gave chase, a point of light emanating from the tip of her horn.

“They are making their way towards the castle,” Soir pointed towards Southstone’s palace. Her eyes widened with sudden, horrific realization. “The zebras Sweetie saved are there!”

“Souls for the demon to consume,” Hades grimly snarled as he beat his wings, propelling him into a screaming dive. “I wished to avoid showing this to a pony obviously so young and inexperienced, but if I withhold myself, this world will die.”

Astaroth noticed his approach, and leapt to meet him and Soir. She had the same angry grin that had claimed her from the moment Sweetie ended and only Astaroth remained. Brittle hoarfrost coated leathery skin, and the talons that reached towards Hades. Behind the Queen of Wrath came the Titan of Stars.

Stone faced, Hades flared his wings. Soir’s breath was pushed out of her lungs in a whoosh, and her hooves almost slipped from around Hades’ neck.

“Let sun bleed and moon shatter, and be the end of all days.” Thrusting a hoof overhead, Hades pointed the other at Astaroth. “Legions of the Dead, come to me!”

There weren’t any of the usual signs of magic, except the burnt scent of aether coiling off Hades’ mane and wings. Behind Hades a silvery tear opened like frayed silk sheets dangling over a window. On the other side lay an endless city of decayed majesty. Streets were filled with spectral ponies, milling about in despair beneath endless, eternal rain. It took Soir a moment to realise the city was Tartarus itself. In a colossal wave of screaming, jagged mouths and groping hooves, the spectres ascended. Screams resonated from the portal, merging into a single, impossible noise that tore through flesh and soul alike. In a glowing white tsunami, the spirits poured from the silvery rip in reality, and rushed towards Astaroth and Twilight.

Barely a hoof length from Hades, Astaroth hardly had time to brace herself before being engulfed by the spirits. Her eyes went wide, and for the first time anger gave way to a different emotion; fear.

Twilight attempted to cut a path through the spectral mass swarming over her. Ghostly hooves emerged from the morass, wrapping around her legs and wings. Dead faces appeared, moaning and screaming as they dragged Twilight from the sky.

For what seemed to be ages, the unceasing glut of spirits poured forth from Tartarus, splashing into the empty streets of Southstone Spires, and pouring down the deserted avenues, filling the city squares and forums, before they overflowed down the mountain’s sides.

Panting heavily, Hades lifted a trembling hoof, and with a gesture, re-sealed the tear he’d made between worlds. He stumbled in his flight, falling a short distance before catching himself.

“You alright, Mr. Hades?” Soir asked, trying to clamber into a position that wouldn’t hamper his flight.

Looking over his shoulders, his face was sunken and sallow. “I will be, in time. Bending my domain in such a fashion is very… taxing.” His flight faltered again, and slowly he began to descend towards Southstone’s ruined middle tier.

“That is an interesting trick,” came Twilight’s voice, amplified to bound off the mountain slopes and over the fields.

Aether fluctuated in thick, lavender bands around the titan as she floated over the fields, rising until she was above the mountain. Her dress, torn in only a few places, whipped about her as if she were in the middle of a gale. A trio of scrolls were tugged from where they’d rested against her flank, unspooling as they fell into tumbling orbits. Twinned rings formed of the wild aether, rotating and spinning about Twilight like she were the center of a dynamo device. Runes from the dawn of time blinked within the glowing semi-solid aether as a miniature storm coated the length of Twilight’s horn.

She was beautiful and frightening to behold.

“Look at what you’ve done!” Twilight thrust a hoof towards Astaroth, the demon, now as tall as a tower, rising seemingly unharmed by Hades’ magic. “I am this world’s protector! I am this world’s saviour!”

Sparks of miniature lightning coalescing along her horn, Twilight raised a hoof overhead.

Soir’s chest convulsed as a deep pressure ran through her body. Hidden between her and Hades, the pink crystal hummed with warmth.

The air around Twilight distorted, bending and turning in on itself as the rings about the titan continued to speed up.

Hades narrowed his eyes, and gave a concerned grunt.

“They’re too late,” he whispered moments before the sky filled with the broad wings of alicorns.

First came Iridia and Faust in light summer dresses. Girded in golden armour, with fiery blade at her side, Celestia and mighty Zeus appeared to the south, racing each other to reach the site of the confrontation first. Young Tyr and Shyara came from the east, having over shot their destination. Luna and Fluttershy swept down from the west, freed from their duty of safeguarding Zerubaba from the thanes.

Twilight took in the oncoming gods, and gave a disappointed groan.

“Why can’t ponies just stay put and trust me?” She quietly asked, head tilted to the side and face tormented by rage. “I’ll prove to everypony that I’ll keep them safe! I’ll stop Astaroth, just like I stopped Nightmare Moon, Discord, and every other threat to Equestria.”

A sharp whine grew in Soir’s ears as the dynamo of spinning aether about Twilight reached a fevered pitch. Faster, faster, and faster they spun until they’d become invisible. And then they stopped, the rings halting with a deafening crack as Twilight cried out, “Let the tears of the stars fall and crack the disc. Suffer for threatening our little ponies.”

An impossible wail rattled through Soir as the sky tore open around Twilight. Slivers of night in the brilliant blue afternoon howled into existence. Twilight tossed back her mane, luscious lavender aether flowing from her as she channeled primordial energies. A dozen, two dozen, a hundred, then thousands of gashes opened around Twilight. One for every star in the night sky.

Spinning Soir around so he could clutch her tight to his chest, Hades growled in a low whisper, “Hold on.”

All at once, the jagged spears of sparkling obsidian shot from the twinkling holes. In a crushing refrain they rained upon the disc. Six thousand spears pierced the earth in thunderous booms that shook the land. Clouds of dust flew into the air and formed a smothering curtain.

Those zebras still attempting to flee were scattered by the quaking earth. Griffons flung to the ground by the mere passage of the shimmering spears. Soldiers fled in wild panic, others formed small knots and prayed for mercy. Heavily armoured cataphracts smacked with bone breaking impacts plummeted like glinting steel stars.

Hades darted and rolled with Soir. The air in Soir’s throat turned thick, like molasses was being poured down her mouth. His back hooves touched one of the shards of crystallized midnight, and it burst into a million deadly needles. Grunting, he swept his wings around Soir and his vulnerable stomach. Soir screamed as they tumbled and then sharply halted before shooting upwards on strong strokes of Hades’ straining wings between two more shards. A flick and twist put them into a spiral, and just barely they squeezed into clear air.

The others were less fortunate. A dozen shards converged on Faust and Iridia. The first few they darted beneath, only to be struck in the side as jagged lattice branches burst from the shard’s glistening surfaces. Silvery blood flowing down her face, a wing limply twisted at her side, Iridia plummeted. Faust slammed into her sister, her own wings pumping hard to keep her a hair’s length from the shards’ razor sharp edges. Ruby magic flared, and the Goddesses of the Spring and Harmony retreated.

“Everypony will be safe! Everypony will be secure!”

Twilight raged above the fields, more and more shards emerging from the holes she’d gouged in the sky.

“This is what everypony wants from me, isn’t it? What I was raised to do! What I was trained to do! What I was thrust into doing time and time again! Why do you try to stop me now?!”

Flying back to back, Zeus and Celestia cut and smashed any shard that came near. Lightning crackled along the God of Thunder’s broad chest, and down thickly hewn legs. There was none of the laughter or humour from the King of the Gods that usually sounded in low rumbles at a challenge, only a stern grimace and heavy growls as he worked up a lather. Behind him, Celestia cut through a shard with Coronal Edge, brilliant, orange hued flames pouring from the sliver of Sol used to craft the ancient blade.

Every blow shattered the shards into slivers as thin as a hair. They melted in the heat emanating from Celestia, turned into harmless puffs of black smoke. For all those she stopped, a hundred more pelted the area beneath the pair of mighty alicorns. Zebras and griffons howled as the needle-like rain dug into any exposed flesh. Sensing their plight, Celestia and Zeus dropped to the ground. They formed a bulwark against the deadly torrent with swaths of flames and sheets of crackling lightning to protect the mortals.

“Traitors!”

Flecks of shadowy magic flickered and twisted around Twilight.

“You are all traitors. You just had to stay in Canterlot and be happy while I did the dirty work. Isn’t that what you wanted all this time?”

Catching a shard in his hooves before hurling it beyond the horizon, Zeus said, “Glorious Celestia, we must strike Twilight before it is too late! Her power continues to grow as she loses more and more of her mind. Soon, even we will have difficulty against her might.”

Aurora-hued mane flying about her as she spun Coronal Edge’s cleaving blade over the heads of the zebras, its flaming trail consuming clouds of needles, Celestia shouted back, “Twilight can be saved! I know she can. If you trust me, then trust her.”

“Trust? A fine sentiment when one is sharing wine and bread before a fire, but unwise to give a titan hurling crystalised night and bolts of blackest aether at you!”

“Remember Faust’s warning; we must not fight each other.”

“Ha-ha!” Zeus’ booming laughter erupted from him with a toss of his golden mane. “I love it when you defy me!”

Spinning around Celestia to deflect an erratic dark bolt of corruptive aether with his wing, Zeus grabbed her, planted his back hooves, and brought her into a deep, passionate kiss. It lasted only a brief instant before she playfully slapped him, but her eyes danced with mischief in spite of the chaos surrounding them. Celestia was flush with adrenaline and urgency, alive as she’d perhaps never been before.

“Continue that later?” Zeus waggled an eyebrow suggestively, and Celestia could only give her head a slight, exasperated shake and roll of her eyes.

“Focus, King of the Gods.”

“Yes, we have a battle to win! We will safe-vouch these mortals from this battlefield while my brother contends with the titan and demoness. In Hades I trust. My brother will see both defeated.”

At this Celestia nodded, and together the Sun and Storms redoubled their efforts. Golden sheets of Sol’s might and crackling blue pulses of lightning flashed, spun, and jetted across the battle-field as they worked tirelessly to evacuate as many mortals as possible.

Shyara and Tyr never reached the deadly impact site. The pair of young goddesses stared open mouthed at the powers being unleashed in awe. Even on Gaea, the tales of a Titan unleashed requiring a convergence of gods seemed preposterous. That a Titan could defeat multiple gods before being stopped was surely the playwrights taking liberties to further the tension in their works. If anything, they’d downplayed the deadly power of a titan.

“What have I done?” Shyara covered her mouth in shock. “This isn’t what I wanted!”

“Cousin, snap out of it!” Tyr barked, tackling Shyara out of the path of the shard hurled by Zeus. “We have to help the others.”

“Help? Help!? Us?” Shyara pointed at her scarred face and wings. “A mere monster made of a single fallen star did this to me! How can I face that?!”

“Because, it’s our responsibility to protect the mortals. Look at Zeus and Celestia! We have to do the same, or what kind of gods are we?”

“We’ll just get in their way. We’re too young. Too weak. Too—”

“Fine! Be a coward. Run back to your demi-realm or wherever it is you hide. I know my duty, at least.” And with that disgusted retort, Tyr too dove towards the battlefield where swarms of undead attacked the fleeing stragglers of the zebrican army. She’d gone barely a body-length when the shadow of a crystal engulfed her and Shyara.

The cousins looked up in shock as jagged obsidian plummeted out of the sun. Both young gods began to form spells, and both realised that in the face of Twilight’s power there was little they could do to save themselves. Out of the corner of her eye, Tyr saw a flash of pink, and then a wall of feathers sprang up between her and the oncoming shard. Next to the wall hovered a bleak bladed greatsword in a tight blue-white aura.

“Mama?” Tyr asked, bewildered in the instant before the shard reached them.

Covered in ancient barding, Cadence clenched her teeth tight and swung Penumbra with all her divine strength. From tip to end she cleaved the giant shard. Sparks flew from her sword and barding before the halves fell away from the young goddesses.

Turning around, Cadence gave her adoptive daughter a hard tap between the eyes. “Your father is beside himself with worry!” Cadence admonished. “Your grandmother is worried. Your cousins are worried. Everypony was worried!”

“You too, mama?” Tyr rubbed the tender spot where she’d been hit.

Cadence smiled softly. “No. But, maybe I should have been as well. Come on, let’s help Celestia and Zeus.”

“As if they need our help,” Shyara grumbled, drawing Cadence’s ire.

“And you, young miss, have had everypony besides themselves with fright! You’ll be three hundred by the time you’re let out of the palace alone. There will be ballads and plays about the ‘Grounding of Shyara’. What happened to you? Where have you been?” To Tyr and Shyara’s surprise, Cadence wrapped her in a hug, gently cradling Shyara’s head against her shoulder.

Shyara tensed at first, then melted into the tender embrace, basking in the safety of Cadence’s wings.

“Iridia already gave me, um, the ‘riot act’, I think you call it?”

This caused Cadence to stifle a laugh. “Oh, did she now? And she didn’t think to tell the rest of us that she’d found you.” Cadence sighed, and added, “I can’t even be mad at her. Not with this.” Cadence sadly swept her eyes over the transformed plains.

Most of the surviving zebras and griffons had already fled, but there were many trapped within the range of the unfolding calamity. Griffons speckled the ground, some wandering in a daze, others joining with their former enemies in forging an escape route. Pockets of undead conglomerated in the newly formed wastelands, stalking the zebras and griffons. The more intelligent undead prioritized survival over base animalistic hunger, escaping to the north, west, and south. Those going south were met by the might of Celestia and Zeus, and were quickly dispatched.

In the north, Luna carved a path towards Twilight and Astaroth.

All the songs of her prowess, all the tales and legends heaped on her withers paled to the spectacle of the Moon unleashed. Tamashi in constant motion, a fluid crescent of oblivion, Luna danced through the undead and crystallized night alike. There was no pause, her strokes seeming to be utterly without effort. Cadence, who’d sparred on occasion with Luna over the past few years, realized that her mother had been holding back during their sessions. If Zeus and Celestia were pinnacles of raw might and power, Luna was that of grace and agility. She was like a rushing stream in the moonlight, mane sweeping about her in a sparkling cascade as she spun and jumped, every leaping bound taking her closer to where Twilight and Astaroth clashed at the heart of the calamity.

Fluttershy followed behind Luna, an emerald bow hovering by her side, twanging destruction at the abominations beyond Luna’s considerable reach. Together, they prevented a single undead monstrosity from escaping to the north.

Slowly the dust cleared and revealed a forest of towering midnight menhirs thrust from the ground for miles in every direction.

Watching from above, Soir’s mouth went dry.

Twilight seemed utterly unstoppable. A force of primal nature unleashed, pulsing with aether from before the world was born. With a sweep of her wing she conjured another wave of the deadly, shimmering obsidian shards. With a thrust of her hoof midnight webs of unnatural lightning sizzled from shard to shard across the wastelands.

“I can rewrite reality, and you think to defy me?!” Twilight was screaming, her little remaining composure lost. “A ruler must do what is best for a nation, a god what is best for the entire disc! For all of reality!”

Infused with so much raw aether, her body a conduit to the energies that birthed all the myriad worlds and realms between, Twilight grew in spurts and sudden surges. Her body bulged and then contracted before growing again until she was more than a hundred hooves tall.

Hades and Soir watched the other alicorns arrive and disperse, or were forced to flee.

Author's Note

Due to the length of the chapter, after being advised, I've decided to cut it in half. There was a good break point right in the middle. This is just for ease of reading and management.

My Author's Notes at the end of the next chapter encompasses it and this one.

I hope this chapter wasn't too cumbersome or boring as its just a whole lot of fighting and 'pew-pew'.

Book Two: Chapter Twenty-Six: Dreams

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duty and Dreams
Chapter Twenty-Six: Dreams

Clicking his tongue, Hades shook his head as it seemed only Luna and Fluttershy were making headway to where Twilight and Astaroth clashed. Great gouts of aether blazed from titan and demon, crackling and cascading over the field of spires, refracting into deadly waves that prevented anypony but the most daring or skilled from even attempting to cross.

At the epicenter of the shards of night, Astaroth screamed her own madness. Her body, ripped and shredded by Twilight’s attacks, reformed into an even more demonic shape.

Astaroth’s legs split, transforming into a host of tendrils that tore open at the tips into beastial faces with monstrous mouths. The heads of lions, goats, snakes and dragons writhed in a slick mass beneath Astaroth. They shot outward, intercepting and consuming Twilight’s onslaught before latching onto Twilight’s shoulders, legs, withers, wings, and throat. Swelling in size to match Twilight, Astaroth unleashed blast after blast of her arctic cold breath. The disc quaked as Twilight was dragged to the earth, knees buckling, rime covering her face.

“Of all the demonic kings, Astaroth is the worst to fight,” Hades said between strained breaths. “It may be impossible for Twilight to win, even as a titan. Astaroth is a hulking abomination that only grows stronger the more she fights. I had her imprisoned in the fifth layer of Hell by chains of orichalcum laced with the tears of a white dove forged by Haphaestus to keep her contained. Having slipped them, I fear nothing can stop her now.”

“Are the demons that strong?”

“Only a few. The self proclaimed kings and queens of the Great Sins. They were the firsts of their kind, and like the old gods come from the First Realm. As such, they are imbued with its reality shaping properties. Instrumental as they were in defeating the Quus, Zeus and I knew they could never be granted free reign with the birth of the Second Realm and its myriad worlds covered in the nascent mortals. We betrayed them before they could betray us, and I have been their warden since. For eons Astaroth has brooded and plotted, and now she is able to unleash all the anger she has accumulated.”

As Hades spoke Twilight and Astaroth clashed, a pair of cataclysmic forces colliding again and again on the former fields. It was impossible to tell who had the upper hoof at any one moment. Their powers were beyond the scope of anything seen since the very first war between gods, demons, archons, and quus.

Reality, already weakened by Hades summoning Tartarus, was torn, bled, and died. The boundaries of the Winterlands frayed and became thin, like an old sheet pulled taught, and the realms beyond began to leak through.

All the gods sensed it. Those of intangible concepts more so.

The Weave of Fate itself began to unravel, leaving a hole of impossibility.

Justice dripped and blackened, becoming a foul smelling ichor bubbling from the cracked earth. Love formed choking clouds of poisonous jealousy. Secrets cackled and echoed, inducing madness in the unfortunate few zebras that had managed to survive and not flee beyond the scope of the battle. Nightmares slithered through the shadows, and craters filled with pungent pools of death as the rivers binding worlds overflowed their banks.

Tyr, Cadence, and Shyara did their best, but the wounds Twilight and Astaroth caused were beyond them.

The land was cursed, and even the gods couldn’t undo the damage.

Unbeknownst to anypony, the day had grown long as titan, god, and demon clashed. With all its usual suddenness, day plunged into night, and the stars awoke in brilliant swaths. That night they swarmed like a flock of angry starlings, murmurations swinging wildly north, south, east, and west until they congregated overhead.

With night’s arrival, the battle tipped decisively in Twilight’s favour. Power peaking, she unleashed her most destructive magics, the menhirs serving as conduits and anchor points. Astaroth was struck again, again, and again by deep lavender beams that disintegrated swaths of flesh faster than she could regenerate.

Even Luna and Fluttershy had retreated, the pair forced back to the edge of the menhirs where they slumped and plotted their next attempt.

Sadness pressed down on Soir. She hadn’t known Sweetie very well, and the impression she’d gotten was of a miserable and angry filly, quick to anger and unwilling to even attempt to be friends with anypony but Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. That didn’t mean she deserved the fate that had befallen her.

If only they’d managed to save her.

Pressed against Soir’s chest, Authea’s crystal emitted a gentle warmth.

“Dreams…” Sang a crystalline voice in Soir’s head.

A splitting pain jolted from the tip of Soir’s horn like jagged lightning down into her brain. She bit the tip of her tongue as she fought back a scream, a metallic tang filling her mouth. Fire burned across her skin, pooling at the nape of the neck and in withers before overflowing towards her flanks. Her cutie mark began to sizzle, the golden outer cord of the dreamcatcher blazing like strands of freshly poured metal, while the inner strands frayed and unravelled until they transformed into an aurora. The trio of feathers beneath the dreamcatcher fluttered across her dark blue fur as they glowed red, orange, and pink.

Far below, Twilight threw a languid buck, motes of Power pulsing in a slow, rhythmic hum around her hooves.

The pain in Soir’s head and flanks worsened.

Almost throwing up from the searing agony, she was only dimly aware that Hades was moving almost at a standstill. His wings seemed stuck, and his entire body locked in place, yet they didn’t fall. Looking closer, Soir could see the slight fluctuations in the strands of his mane as it was caught in the wind, moving so slow as to almost be imperceptible.

It wasn’t just Hades, Soir realised. Grains of sand blasted into the sky floated around Soir. The arcs of magic between the menhirs popped in slow fields. And the stars overhead, their movements so fierce and wild had become a torpid, beautiful swirl.

Pain subsiding, Soir poked the dust. It curled around her hoof, and the stones moved only as far as Soir nudged them before halting again.

“What in Celestia’s mane?” Soir blinked rapidly, looking back down at Twilight and Astaroth, both now frozen like statues.

“Dreams,” spoke the crystalline voice, “Find your sister’s dream and restore her hope. The gods bear the burdens of all the world together. Even a single mountain can not hold the disc. Act quick. Lest glimmer gowned and rosy hued Twilight Sparkle is destroyed by the machinations of the Demonstar.”

“But, how can I do that?” Soir demanded, looking down at the flickering crystal pressed between her and Hades. “I can’t even use magic!”

“Of course you can,” laughed the crystal. “Unmake the seal. Restore the dreams you locked away. You are the alicorn of Dreams, and what is a Dream but a Hope? But a Wish? We were meant to be a triumvirate, but were pulled apart before we could meet.”

Twilight’s buck had started to connect. The demon queen’s head was thrown back as she howled in agonised rage. Where Twilight’s hooves connected, Astaroth’s foul flesh burned into a fine cloud of ash as Twilight’s magic tore her apart at a fundamental level.

Clutching tighter to Hades, Soir trembled a little in fear. Doubts bubbled in her stomach, and only grew when she looked up at the imposing figures down on the fields.

“Hades erred, and the boundary between realms has been made thin here. This has allowed the things contained below Tartarus a chance to slip free. It also gives you the ability to set things right.”

“How?” Soir demanded in a nasally whine, but the crystal didn’t respond. It’s light was gone, and it was cold to the touch.

Hades’ wings began a downstroke, and his eyes ever so slowly started to turn towards Soir, a deep rumble beginning to form in his chest.

Soir hissed as the burning on her flanks grew.

It was all too much. She couldn’t save anypony. She couldn’t stop the destruction.

And then she saw them. Framed behind the glistening swirls of the stars, hidden behind Selene’s rising, silvery orb, were a trio of rings. Rings just like the dreamcatcher on her flank. Two of them were open, but the third was covered in a web of ancient, rusting chains. Soir felt a tug in her chest, like the rings were calling to her, and when she blinked, it was as if she had crossed the vast distance to the dark side of the moon.

She knew these rings. Had always known them. They’d been there every night, whispering to her an inaudible song of suffering and loss. Through the rings came thousands upon thousands of spectral birds. The oneiros, they carried on their wings dreams that they took to the mortals falling into sleep. The chains on the middle ring rattled, and a single, tiny bird squeezed between their grasp. It gave an irritated chirp before it flitted towards the disc, descending towards a unicorn somewhere in the west. As Soir watched only a few more of the spirits managed to find their way through the chained ring.

“I did that,” Soir realised. “That is why unicorns don’t normally dream!”

One of the oneiros, larger and more magnificent than the others dove towards the disc, and then halted, tilting its head side to side, before zipping up to Soir. It’s bright golden plumage and long, thin tail feathers glowed gently in the starlight, and it’s eyes like polished silver coins boring into Soir. With a trilling screech, the elder oneiros circled Soir twice before diving towards the disc.

Somehow, Soir knew this oneiros carried a dream meant for Sweetie.

The pain on her flanks had almost become unbearable.

The fire piercing her head dug deeper, and something in the back of Soir’s mind broke. A wellspring of memories surged forth like a river plunging through a crumbling dam. Memories that were hers, that she’d always known, but had been forced deep down into the furthest reaches of her subconscious.

Memories that stretched back to antiquity.

Memories that belonged to her, but from when she had been fragmented. Fragments that floated around the disc sowing misery and despair, stealing, twisting, corrupting ponies dreams as they tumbled from owner to owner, until being reforged, reborn, in the comforting legs of her mama. Until she’d awoken in Lourdes with Jardin, her past a blank, hidden from her.

All stemming from a betrayal, and a curse meant not for just unicorns, but all ponies. To deny them their dreams. A final act of spite from just before she was murdered.

Soir winced, sucking in a deep breath to fight off the pain, and when she opened her eyes, she was again back in Hades’ legs, and the rings were hidden behind Selene.

Soir knew what she had to do.

“Mr. Hades, I need to reach her.” Soir tugged at Hades’ leg and pointed.

Hades hesitated. “Impossible! There is too much stray magic even for me to pierce. And should we manage to get to Twilight, she is too far gone. Glutted in the power of her domain, she is lost to the throws of aetheric madness. She is blinded by her domain. It is all she sees, all she can see.”

“No! I can reason with her! I was told to reach her! Faust told me to find Twilight!” Desperation welled in Soir’s eyes, pleading with him to help. To believe in her. “If I can just reach her, I know I can save her. We can save her and Sweetie!”

“You are dreaming if you believe she can yet be redeemed,” Hades sadly sighed and indicated the wasteland Twilight and Astaroth had formed in the battle. “Alone, I could perhaps get close to Twilight. But, having to carry and protect you as well?” Hades shook his head.

“Then let me take her,” spoke Fleur as she came up beside Hades. She was battered and weary, great bruises and welts showing beneath her pristine white coat. Part of her left ear was missing, a long line of shimmering golden blood running from the dirt encrusted wound. “I can see the way to Twilight.”

Hades gave Fleur a sour glance. He looked her up and down, and then returned his attention to the battle nearing its climax at the heart of the midnight menhirs.

“Very well, heir of Athena. Her eyes could perceive any deception or attack, and I trust yours to do the same.” Tsking, Hades swung Soir around so she was on his back. He would need his hooves free if they were to break through Twilight’s torrent of defenses. “But, if anything happens to Soir, then there will be no sanctuary, no realm, no world, that will keep you from my vengeance.”

Fleur nodded, and reached to take Soir. Reluctantly she climbed into Fleur’s hooves.

“Hold tight,” Fleur said softly after a moment studying the deadly field they had to cross.

Twilight threw kick after kick, magic blazing in blinding lances in between. Even Astaroth couldn’t keep up with the ferocious pace of the strikes. Twilight was like a vicious tiger, refusing Astaroth a moment’s respite. The mighty Queen of Wrath fell to her knees before Twilight. Stray strands of magic were cast from the tips of Twilight’s wings and the edges of her hooves. Their lethal force filled the menhirs, and were channeled in a spiral of destruction around the titan.

Fleur flew undaunted into the array crackling between the giant menhirs. Even the slightest touch of a single, tiny jolt of magic would be fatal.

She spun and darted, wings flicking in and out in a dazzling display of agility that defied mortal ability. A crackling band of searing aether flowed towards her from the side, and she rolled beneath it, pinions spread so that individual strands of the magic went in between. She followed this with a sudden ascent into an inverted, looping dive. Somehow, Fleur slid sideways, skimming less than an inch over the surface of a menhir humming as it absorbed aether for a discharge. On and on this went, death less than an inch away at every precious second. She was a white hawk, weaving through the entwined branches of a primordial forest, hunting her prey.

Aegis was struck on Fleur’s left, the shield’s indestructible face scoured smooth and burnt black as it was sent spinning off into the night. Pallas intercepted a blast, it’s shaft shattering as it was destroyed saving Fleur and Soir.

Through it all, Soir held onto Fleur tight as dear life. The force of the turns rushed blood to her head several times, or pushed her stomach down until it was somewhere below her tail. Soir headache only amplified. Darkness sapped her vision, and the rush of the wind and sizzling snap of burning aether became a dull roar in her ears.

Dimly, she heard Fleur scream.

Her stomach flopped again, and stones dug into Soir’s flank as she hit the hard earth.

Blinking her eyes open, Soir found herself on the blackened glass ground at the center of the menhirs. Fleur lay a short distance away, her right wing missing beyond the wrist, struggling to push herself up.

Just beyond Fleur was Twilight and Astaroth, and it was a horrific sight to behold.

Half of Astaroth was torn away leaving jagged, crumbling edges where her left arm and shoulder had been. Glowing gold chains bound the Queen of Wrath, similar to those Hades had conjured. They borrowed into bubbling flesh, preventing Astaroth from regenerating. Just barely visible, part of Sweetie’s head slumped out of the gaping wound. The demon writhed in its inexhaustible wrath, remaining arm stretching towards Twilight, fingers curled into a steely cage.

A thick lather covering her from nose to dock, Twilight took deep breaths as she stood triumphant over the Queen of Wrath. Glittering blood from a hundred wounds matted her fur, and her mane was stuck to the side of her face and neck. Clumps of feathers had been torn from her right wing, and her left eye was swollen shut from Astaroth’s repeated blows. She’d shrunk back to her former size, the power swelling through her expended in the battle to defeat Astaroth.

Above Twilight a final shard of night coalesced.

Sweetie twitched an ear.

Leaping to her hooves, Soir galloped towards Twilight.

“Stop! She is still alive! Sweetie is still alive!”

Soir reached out. She was not going to make it…

She was too far away.

Twilight was too focused on Astaroth.

The shard of night plunged towards Astaroth and Sweetie.

With a mighty kick, Fleur threw herself against the shard. The shard slammed into the ground before Astaroth. Fleur collapsed, utterly exhausted. Twilight ignored her, and began forging a new shard.

Racing around Astaroth and Fleur, Soir jumped up and grabbed Twilight around the neck in a hug.

“Stop!” She desperately pleaded. “Please. Sweetie can be saved. Please, stop this, sister. We can save her. We can restore their dreams.”

Tears ran in thick streams down Soir’s face, matting her and Twilight’s fur.

“You don’t need to hurt anypony. You don’t. I know there is a good pony in you. That you just want to keep everypony safe, but you’re just going to steal their dreams, like I did, long ago. You saved me, once. I remember that night, in the castle, when you faced Nightmare Moon. I remember it. I remember you being so brave and saving Princess Luna from me. You saved me! You, and Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, Rarity, and Rainbow Dash saved me without even knowing it. So, let me save you. You, and all the unicorns I cursed.”

As she hugged Twilight, the pain in Soir’s flanks went out, and the stabbing pain in her horn vanished. Her withers tickled, itched, and her wings emerged from where they’d been bound by the ancient arte of Fostering. A pulse of energy burst from Soir as the Fostering was broken. Soft aether washed over Twilight and across the wasteland where the pitch black menhirs greedily sucked in the excess magic.

The menhirs hummed loudly, their tones growing sharper until they seemed to be singing a forlorn hymn. Higher and higher the music reached, and then it came crashing down with a deep, thunderous rumble that shook the ground and sent up great plumes of dust.

Unseen, the chains binding the third gate slackened, and began to crumble. In great swaths they fell away, and a giant flock of oneiros burst forth to carry the dreams denied unicorns of so long.

Twilight went rigid, like Soir had plunged a dagger into her chest.

Dimming, the menhirs went quiet and a profound silence settled over the wastes.

Slowly, the tides of aether flowing through Twilight’s eyes receded, and a normal light took their place. The midnight mirror coating her wings evaporated into gentle, wispy puffs that drifted away to join the sky.

“Um, excuse me, but do I know you?” Twilight asked, timidly clearing her throat.

Sniffling, wiping away the crystalline tears of an alicorn clinging to her cheeks, Soir shook her head. “We never properly met before. I’m your older sister, Soir, or Namyra, maybe. I think I prefer Soir, though. That name has less, um, history.”

“Wait, wait, wait. What? Older sister? But, I don’t… No… All the scriptures said you were destroyed.” Twilight rubbed her temples with the tips of her wings. “No! Nevermind that! We need to focus on Sweetie” She jabbed a hoof at Astaroth and Sweetie.

Astaroth strained against the dusky chains borrowing into her flesh, a thick green froth foaming at the edges of her mouth in her enraged madness.

From the wound in her shoulder, Sweetie hung limply, unseeing eyes fixed forward and a tormented expression on her face. Black veins wormed across pallid grey skin barely covered by small tufts of fur. If not for a slight twitch to one ear, Sweetie seemed a corpse.

Soir’s ears fell flat against her head as she released Twilight and slid to her haunches.

“I don’t know,” Soir admitted. “But, there was a dream being sent to her, so she is alive, just sleeping.”

“Dream?” Twilight clicked her tongue. “That doesn’t help saving her, does it?”

“Whatever you are going to do,” Fleur spoke in a breathy, weary whisper from where she lay, “be quick.”

“I can rewrite reality.” Twilight’s breath came in sharp gasps as she paced.

Covered in the dirt and mire of battle, there was a strangely frenetic air about her. Her movements were sharp, precise, and absolutely focused. The similarities to the titan were there, but this was something else. Soir wondered if this was simply the normal Twilight, or if some aspects of the titan remained and would soon re-emerge.

Thrusting a hoof into the air, Twilight exclaimed, “I can rewrite reality! A star… I need a star to fall…”

Soir frowned.

Twilight glanced skyward, and her smile grew. “Which star, which star… Oropolla! Yes! She wants to fall. Except, I can’t control the wishes.”

Chewing on her lower lip, Twilight began to pace like a caged lioness. She muttered to herself as she tried to find a solution. Her tail lashed as none suitable came to mind. And then she went rigid and spun to Soir.

“You’re Dreams! And what is a Dream but a Wish? A fervent desire! You can guide the dreams, or in this case, wish! It’s a technicality, I know. We’re twisting words and meanings. But, if there is one thing I’m learning about being an alicorn it is that perception and belief are everything. If you believe, then this could work!” Twilight kneeled down next to Soir, madness still sparkling in her eyes, but a madness of possibilities and hope. Like Twilight saw something that other ponies couldn’t begin to perceive.

“I-I’ve never used magic before!” Soir protested.

“This isn’t regular magic, like with runic equations, aetheric flow, and spell-craft. This is more like, hmmm, how to put it, tapping into our essences. Our hearts, and dictating the way it flows. You’ve done it already just a few minutes ago.”

Soir’s mouth went dry, her stomach tightening into a knot.

What Twilight asked was impossible. Guide a wish? With belief?

Soir’s wings bristled at what she was being asked to do, and she nodded.

She could do this! She had already done the impossible in reaching Twilight, in making a mad titan return to reason. Even Hades had thought it impossible, and yet, she’d done it.

She could guide a dream, too.

“If you are going to do something, hurry,” Fleur said, just as one of the creaking chains holding Astaroth broke.

“Do it,” Soir stood next to Twilight, and hoped she looked maybe a little heroic.

Twilight’s grin widened,”Fleur, wish with me for Sweetie to be returned to us!” She raised her wings high, and then brought them down. “Go back to your foals, Oropolla!”

In the heavens, still this past few minutes, a brilliant light popped, and a star began to fall. Across the north skies she plunged, a tail of vibrant bluey-green fire trailing behind.

Holding onto Twilight, Soir scrunched up her eyes and tried to listen. What, precisely, she was trying to hear she didn’t begin to know. She trusted her instincts. The same ones that had let her see the wonderful rings that served as gates to the realm of dreams.

She had no idea if this was right or wrong, if she would succeed or fail. She simply trusted in Twilight, and in herself.

She’d saved Twilight.

She could do this.

It was why Faust had sent her, afterall.

She had faith.

Following Twilight’s advice, she trusted herself to the instinctual use of magic all ponies had to do with their special talents. Again she found her mind’s eye before the trio of interlocked rings.

Closing her eyes, and breaths growing shallow, she plunged through the central rung into a refreshing cool expanse of twinkling lights. They twirled about her until pooling in the space next to her neck and around her legs. An oneiros appeared, wingtips skimming across the mirror surface of the lights. Scooping one up, the spirit flew away, headed towards the mortal realms. Reaching out, Soir cupped one of the lights.

She needed the ponies to dream of Sweetie, of saving the little filly. A pang of regret at not getting to know Sweetie better swished through her belly. With no better memory to hold onto, Soir opted for the only one where Sweetie had seemed something at peace.

It was a simple image, where Sweetie sat at a window, a sad frown playing with her otherwise pretty features. Her hoof rested on her sword, playing with the carvings in the crosspiece. She didn’t notice Soir hiding in a shadow next to a suit of armour, too frightened to emerge and speak. Sweetie looked up as Scootaloo and Apple Bloom came around a corner, and a brief smile crossed her face. After talking for a short while, the trio went off, and the memory ended.

Soir looped the memory, and poured it into the flickering dream-light along with the fervent desire to help the filly contained within. Its surface shimmered a deep, velvetine pink. Gently, Soir placed it back in the ocean of dreams. The dream bobbed, and then sank. Where it sank the dreams near it took on the same pink tone, taking in the same memory and passing it to the next, and it to the next, and so on until a large patch had formed around Soir.

With no idea if she was doing the right thing, if this would even work, Soir tried to grab the attention of the nearest oneiros. The spirit gave her a look, but continued on its way, grabbing a dream from a little distance off.

Soir tried again, and this time one of the golden elder oneiros’ swooped down to her.

“Mistress—” the spirit began to speak in a rich timbre voice, but she cut him off.

“Gather every one of your fellows, and carry these dreams to every pony you can,” she indicated the dreams she’d filled with the memory of Sweetie.

“Everypony?” The spirit tilted its head, but did not wait for Soir to elaborate.

Wheeling overhead, the spirit let out a call that echoed across the realm of dreams, and summoned a flock of oneiros. In a flourish they gathered the dreams Soir had crafted and flew towards the gateway. Ponies across Ioka, from those in bed, to those sitting on a bench watching the night sky, to ponies in Castle Canterlot cleaning the evening dishes and to the guards patrolling the corridors, to the tinkers in their workshops and the artists at their easels, from the aristocrat to the pauper, from edge to edge of the disc; everypony was met by the same dream.

Those awake had their thoughts drift to Sweetie, to the image of her at the window sill. It lasted only a few moments before most shrugged off the effect and went back to whatever they’d been occupied with doing. Some lingered, and many would later wonder who the pony they’d dreamed about. Paintings of the Pony in the Windowsill were made in the hundreds, and stories of just how she’d come to be there, and what caused her to be so sad populated bookshelves. Few would ever learn the truth, and the event would last as one of the minor mysteries of the age.

Satisfied, Soir closed her eyes and willed herself back to her body.

She returned to a roar of flames and a rush of heat on her face. Blinking, she looked around for the fire, and found it to be Twilight. Engulfed in a towering plume of blue flames, she stood on splayed hooves. Twilight threw back her head as she let out a long roar with the effort to control the wish.

Before Twilight, Astaroth strained against the final two chains binding her. The rest dangled from her like the limbs of a dying willow tree. With a snap, the final chains broke and Astaroth lunged.

Soir gasped and covered her mouth.

Only a hoof length from Twilight, Astaroth collapsed, pitiful moans escaping her cracked lips. Writhing on the ground, she tossed her head wildly, madly, fist pounding the ground and legs thrashing. Her back bent to the popping of bones. Flesh started to melt and slough away. In lumps it splattered the glassy earth. A leg detached, and from the joint emerged the tip of a hoof. The remaining arm came loose, bones bursting from parchment thin skin as it rolled towards Soir.

As she melted, Astaroth began to laugh, a low, horrible rumbling sound that made Soir’s stomach churn worse than the revolting sight of the queen’s banishment.

“We will meet again, oh goddesses. I will remember your faces, and I will take everything you hold dear before the Quus awaken and all things die.” Astaroth promised, and then she was gone.

Gasping for breath, Twilight collapsed onto her haunches. She could barely hold up her wings, and her eyes sagged with large bags. But, there was a triumphant grin on her face.

In the mounds of slimy mush that was all that remained of Astaroth was Sweetie. Her ear twitched. With a groan Sweetie slowly pushed herself up.

Wiping away the goo clinging to her face, she quietly demanded, “What in Celestia’s mane is going on?”

Soir couldn’t help herself.

She laughed.

She laughed with the deepest of relief.

She’d actually done it. She’d managed to help Twilight save Sweetie.

A flurry of wings erupted around Soir, the air filled with alicorns from every direction. A dozen voices demanded answers, or shot recriminations. Princess Luna reached Twilight first, and she grabbed her cousin in a deep hug that lasted only as long as it took for Princess Celestia to pry Twilight away so she could give her a very stern dressing down. Zeus was there, thumping Celestia on the shoulder as he pronounced he never doubted her judgement. Fluttershy whispered how glad she was that Twilight was better.

Others were cleaning off Sweetie, who had a look of total confusion.

Somepony pulled Fleur to her hooves and tended to her wounded wing. Another had conjured bandages and had begun the process of swathing both Fleur and Twilight in cotton from tail to nose.

Iridia and Faust made their reappearance, a bandage already set around the former’s head.

“What is going on?” Sweetie demanded. “The last thing I remember, I was in Southstone and—Apple Bloom! Scootaloo! They fell and—”

Fleur sushed Sweetie, explaining that both were fine, safe with Applejack and Rainbow Dash.

“Really?” Sweetie breathed a sigh of relief.

It was an occasion of joy as the tension of yet another disaster ended and was washed away. Feeling out of place among all the other alicorns, Soir stood a little apart. On the other side of the gathering, Hades gave her a nod, eyes crinkling in a smile, before he returned his attention to a very flustered Fluttershy.

Following Hades’ gaze, Iridia looked over to Soir. Her joyous expression morphed into one of shock, face paling in the moonlight.

“Namyra?” She asked, detaching herself from the clump of ponies around Twilight and Sweetie.

The name, familiar and yet still foreign to Soir’s ear, drew more attention. Luna gasped, and Celestia looked as if she were seeing a ghost.

Soir’s stomach tightened as Iridia stumbled closer. “My little Namyra?” Iridia gasped, the question choking in her throat.

Her own voice faltered, and Soir raised a hoof in a weak wave. She wanted to smack her head at the feeble response. What was she supposed to say? There’d been no time to examine Namyra’s memories and figure out what they meant.

Memories of the manor house in the valley near Lourdes hovered at the periphery of her head. She dared not look at them. To close her eyes, to acknowledge Namyra… Did that make Soir a lie?

Was that what the entire journey had been about? Was this what she’d wanted when she left Lourdes? The town had been destroyed simply because she’d called it home.

Had Faust’s command to find Twilight been an easy excuse to run away?

No, she’d been running towards something. Towards her destiny.

And she’d reached it.

She’d saved Twilight. Just like she’d been told.

She could do magic now.

She wasn’t some broken, failure of a pony.

Right?

Soir’s breaths were quick, her heart thudding against her chest. The disc began to spin, and Iridia drew nearer.

Iridia.

Namyra’s… mother. Her mother. Her real mother.

The mother who’d sat with her atop the mountain and pointed out the stars, naming them as she told

She wished Jardin could see her now. She wished she could hold her mama again and tell her how much she loved her.

Iridia was close enough to almost touch her. Soir tried to shape words. To say something. But her throat constricted, and all that came out was a little hiccup. Confused joy, and a painful longing squeezed her chest. Tears sprang to Soir’s eyes, crystalline drops clinging to her face. Iridia sank to her knees, and reached towards Soir.

Shadows leapt up around Soir like a swarm of grasping claws. Inky talons formed a cage as cold as the deepest winter night on the snowy peak of the Canterhorn. Soir yelped, and tried to grab Iridia’s hoof. The shadows slammed shut around her, confining her in a pit of absolute blackness where she couldn’t even see her outstretched hoof. Her breath froze in her lungs, such was the depths of the utter cold within the shadows.

Soir attempted to scream, but there was no sound. Her lungs burned, the shadows lacking any air for her to breath.

Pure panic gripped her. She could feel madness creeping behind darkness deeper than her eyes could pierce. She’d been in the infinite, lightless void too long. Much longer than when Mr. Hades would teleport with her. She was lost. Trapped in a timeless, endless expanse of frigid nothingness.

And then she fell onto her side. Hard stone ground into her flank and shoulder. Blinking, Soir glanced around and saw she was back in Southstone Castle’s throne room. Over her loomed Algol, disappointment burning deep in the Demonstar’s sickly eyes.

“There you are, my little dreamer,” Algol gently cradled Soir’s face with razor edged feathers. “You gave me a flash of pale yellow, running time and again into danger with that old fool. For what? To save my mistress? Such folly. But, look at you! Whole again! How… golden.”

Algol smiled, and she gently withdrew her wings. Tears brimmed the Demonstar’s eyes, a matronly air cloaking her as Selene’s light washed over her through shattered windows.

“What do you want?” Soir demanded as she got to her hooves.

Algol laughed as if the answer were obvious. “To hurt Twilight! To rend her heart with claws of yellow and red. To pierce her mind and shatter it so that those she loved and is loved by must destroy her to save this pathetic disc. Alas, you ruined it all. You betrayed me.”

Lips curling with malice, Algol circled around Soir.

Just hours earlier Soir would have been overcome with fear at being confronted by the vile witch. She’d just dealt with a titan and a queen of hell. She was confident she could deal with a lone wayward fallen star.

“Hurting me won’t hurt Twilight. She doesn’t even know me. Until a few minutes ago, we were total strangers.”

Algol tilted her head. “So bleak. Of course hurting you won’t hurt Twilight. You are a stranger to her. Keeping you alive was never about Twilight. What I want and why you are here are not the same. You are the final key.”

Taking Soir’s chin in her wings, Algol turned her head towards the throne. Hades throne was on its side, and in its place a rough, golden archway. A thin film stretched across the arch, shimmering like oil on water.

A gentle feather traced up her chin, and carefully picked a frozen tear from Soir’s cheek. Algol cupped the crystal tear in her wing with the greatest care and gingerly carried it to the arch.

“The final key,” Algol whispered as she pressed the tear to the mirror, and the surface took on a mirror sheen that then cleared to reveal a simple room.

Bottle stuffed shelves covered in dust lined the walls, part of a desk just barely visible. Half-melted unlit candles sat atop a skull in the corner, scrolls and paperwork littering the desk’s work-surface. Birds wings and mummified bats, lizards, and toads hung in nets.

Gently, almost timidly, Algol pressed a hoof to the surface of the portal. There was a little ripple as it passed into the room beyond.

“Algol!” Twilight’s voice cut across the throne room. “Stop!”

Algol turned and began to back through the portal. “Hello, and good-bye,Twilight Sparkle,” Algol said, her tone flat. “Give my regards to my foolish, cowed sisters. Especially Sirius.”

“Wait!” Twilight, surrounded by all the alicorns on Ioka, raised a pleading hoof.

Lips twisting with fury, Algol stopped half-way through the portal. “You don’t get to command me! You will never command me! I am Algol! I am the Dreamstar! My hopes, my aspirations, my soul is my own; not the plaything of an ignorant foal. You are not my mistress! My heart is red and deepest black when I think of you. I spit upon you! Know this, all that I have done, all I have hurt, all I have wronged was because you exist. It is spite and spite alone that has driven me since before history was recorded. Go, try to enjoy your victory, such as it is. It is bleak and pyrrhic, and will forever be a stain on you.”

With that, Algol vanished through the portal. It’s surface shimmered, and then parted.

Speechless, head hanging low, Twilight was silent.

She didn’t so much as glance at the other gods. They were all battered to some extent or other, dirt and grime covering their once pristine coats. None were left unmarked by the events of the day.

Iridia was the first to break away, rushing up to Soir. She grabbed Soir’s head in her hooves, turning her this way and that as she checked her over. When she was satisfied, Iridia swept Soir into a crushing hug.

“You’re back,” Iridia repeated, over and over. “You’re really back. My little dreamer, you’re back.”

Attempting to wriggle out of Iridia’s grip, Soir gasped, “Can’t breath!”

Iridia relaxed her grip just a little. Only a little, her body trembling with the confluence of emotions raging through her. Even after she finally let go, Iridia refused to be more than a wingspan away, trailing around, or dragging Soir behind her as needed.

There remained much to be done, with only a few moments given to breath before everypony went about the tasks of undoing as much of the destruction caused in Twilight’s rampage. New barriers were forged and layered over the city and surrounding wastelands when it became evident that the wastes themselves resisted all attempts at being healed. The zebras huddled throughout the castle were ushered to safety among the gathered survivors of the armies. The soldiers sat or wandered in dazes, often beside former enemies, griffon and zebras putting aside their differences for the time being.

Gryphonia was gone. Any chance the old empire had of resurgence slain and left to rot on the mountainside. Another of its cities lost forever. What lay in store for the gryphons was years of hardship, of further decline, and eventually, being lost to history, their race fading away.

A new day dawned on a new era.

The Age of Alicorns, started so violently, promised to be an era unimaginable in wonder and myth, guided by a full pantheon of gods; the Canterians, atop the Canterhorn.

Author's Note

What a monster of a chapter to write! This has been perhaps the greatest challenge of them all as there was so much to tie up. So many plot threads, characters, and story arcs all converging. Some were minor. Some were major. But the list just seemed to keep growing and growing, and I felt I'd written myself into a hundred different corners. So much so that a few times I was really worried that I wouldn't be able to close anything off with a satisfying conclusion.

There is quite a bit of foreshadowing and foundation work that I feel I failed to properly lay down when it came to Soir and her role in the finale. This is a fault of how I write, which is largely 'seat of the pants' style. I've had a general idea of the big-picture layout of the confrontation that I was angling towards, but the details were never put in place until I started actually writing the chapter. As an example, Fleur and Hades were intended to confront and talk Twilight down from going all Super Saiyan in the castle throne room. Ha! Yeah, that was out the window several chapters ago, obviously. But that was my goal before I even STARTED the second draft. That is how long ago I put down the 'general ideas' of the conclusion.

Finding roles, figuring out purposes, and then weaving them all together was a very tense experience.

Things I'd change in another draft:

1: More work on Soir figuring out her past and missing memories. I think there is enough general bonding with Hades that that aspect doesn't need expanding.

2: Cut all the pregnancy stuff with AJ and RD. It added nothing to the story or their characters that would be missed. I blame myself as I had plans to have Ares show up and confront AJ. If memory serves me, that was cut before the second draft started, but I kept the pregnancies thinking they could be worked into the story in other ways. I grew squeamish about the topic, and so it wasn't properly developed.

3: Either tie Zubu and Gilda more into Zebrica and have them more involved in Twi or Soir's story somehow, or just cut them entirely and save the characters for something else. I love Zubu, as he is probably the best original character with the most depth, but it is just a bunch of fluff in the end. Something I've thought about is combining Griphonia and Zebrica, which brings me to my next point;

4: Get rid of or do something with the griphon king, queen, general, etc. Useless characters were useless and ate up too much space unnecessarily.

5: No French/non-English dialogue. Should be obvious as to why. Use descriptions instead to convey when characters are speaking different languages from each other.

Those are the bigger things, or just those that have stuck with me.

I can't believe that, after 8 years, we've reached the end of the main-line Myths and Birthrights story. There are still plot-hooks left open, and maybe I'll start that story eventually. For now, I want to be able to focus on The Rariad. It is the true sequel to Myths and Birthrights.

Thank you! To everyone, who has stuck with me all this time. To the readers new who've found this story and braved it. To everyone who has taken the time to comment, whether about Celestia fostering Tyr and the bleep-storm that summoned, to the general encouragements and the much needed criticisms.

Thank you to Honey Mead, WNA, Cerulean Voice, and everyone who has ever edited or pre-read a chapter to help make them just that little bit more palatable.

I love you all.

And please, not to date this or anything, but be safe in these difficult times. My best hopes go to all of you.

Most sincerely,
Tundara, the otter bard.

Standard hat in my hands copy-paste:
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Book Two: Epilogue

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duty and Dreams
Epilogue

“...And that was how my mamas and papa met. Thank you.”

Standing at the front of class a diminutive filly lowered the sheets and sheets of papers she’d been reading from for quite some time. Peering over their edge she saw several deadpan stares, a few ponies asleep at their desks, and Mrs. Honeysuckle attempting to rub away her exasperation.

“Miss Morta Sparkle,” Mrs. Honeysuckle began, her voice snapping like a ruler on a desk. A unicorn of advancing years, the teacher held her greying blue and pink mane in a harsh bun. On her nose were perched a pair of large, round glasses through which her golden eyes, often narrowed in exasperation, peered.

“Your father did not curse an entire city, raise an army of the undead, and then almost destroy the disc in an apocalyptic battle with your mother, whom, in turn, had turned into Nightmare Moon.”

“But, it’s twoo!” cried Morta, waving her tiny hooves in exasperation. “Mama put a powerful charm over the city to make ponies forget about it, and tasked Vega with keeping watch, so mortals wouldn’t go there and get hurt. It is now a cursed, dark place with no sunshine, love, or any goodness of any sort whatsoever! Tell her, cousin Arengea! Tell her it is twoo!”

At her desk, Arengea gave her head a rapid shake, and held out her hooves as if to ward off her cousin. “Leave me out of this, Morta. Everypony else told you to use the simplified, ‘they met when my father came looking for Athena,’ story.”

Looking for some support, Morta turned to her other cousins, the Muses spread out amongst the classroom. They all pointedly looked away. Polyhymnia whistling a tune, Calliope pretending to focus on her notes, Arche silently mouthing math equations with a glazed look to her eye, Thalia whispering something to her neighbour that drew a snigger, and Clio doodling on her desktop. The Terrors of Canterlot were no help.

As usual.

“Wait, are you saying that Morta is actually telling the truth?” exclaimed a nearby light blue coated colt appropriately named Blue.

“What I want to know is if Algol was ever caught and punished,” spoke up a ceruse filly from a prominent family. “Seems a bit unsatisfying with her getting away like that. Especially since she instigated everything.”

“I thought it was that empress lady who was the bad pony,” added another filly. “Having it switch like that was a little weird. Better to have just one baddie for the heroes to beat.”

“Yeah! And Twilight would never, ever, eeeeeever be as mean as Morta made her out to be!”

“I’m more upset that Lord Hades didn’t get his come-uppance! I mean, he was the cause of the curse and then he beat up Twilight in the first fight, but they hardly fight at all when she is a titan? Lame!”

A usually soft-spoke filly near the back of the room jumped up. “That’s because Hades was smart enough to know better than to fight a titan alone. He did what he could and avoided a direct confrontation. Unlike the supposed Goddess of Wisdom, who just got her flank kicked.”

“Oh, please, we all know that your family is a bunch of death worshippers, Catacomb! Of course you would take Hades’ side.”

“Naturally,” shot back the ashen grey filly, flipping her black mane over her shoulder, “Which other alicorn would a mortuary worship than the God of the Dead? Hades is obviously the best alicorn, as he tends to the souls of everypony when they die.”

“Nuh-uh! It’s Zeus! The King of the Alicorns is clearly the best.”

“Queen Celestia! She is the only one who Zeus listens to.”

“What about Princess Fluttershy? She is so pretty and mysterious…”

“Queen Luna is best alicorn; fight me!”

Every student began shouting the names of their preferred alicorn, creating a riotous din. All the while Morta shrank a little lower at her spot in the front of the class. Even Mrs. Honeysuckle’s usual calls for order went unheeded as the argument grew.

“Come on, girls, we’re getting off-topic! What is important is that Morta totally lied in her report!” The ring-leader jumped up from her desk and took a spot before her classmates, only returning to her seat with a prim smile once everypony else had quieted down. As she sat back down, she added, “The start of the Age of Alicorns was totally different in the history books.”

This drew a few nods and murmured affirmatives.

“Morta is almost as bad as Calliope for making up tall-tales. No way half of what she said ever happened,” the ashen filly said in her carrying whisper.

“Come on, that’s stretching things. Calliope is the biggest fibber in the school, and has been since my mom was a student here.” Blue stuck out his tongue at Calliope.

At the desk next to the colt, Calliope snapped her pencil, shoved back her stool, flipped her cobalt blue and black streaked mane over her shoulder, and towered over the colt. Sadistic fire crackled in her sapphire eyes. Smoke curled from her mane as it danced like a basket of vipers. Her entire body glowed with rising tides of aether that sparked along the fluted ridges of her horn. Calliope was quickly caught on either side by two of her sisters, Polyhymnia and Arche soothing her, while Arengea sniggered.

Sensing his very mortal peril, the colt shrank down until he was almost under his desk.

“You are so dead, Blue,” teased Arengea. “Rolled a natural one there.”

“Poets will sing of your demise through the rest of this age,” Thalia added from across the classroom. “Blue, Blue, he had no clue. Oh, what was the idiot to do? Run, run, fleet as a fox. Nope, too late, he was blown out of his sox!”

The class burst into a chorus of laughter, some repeating the rhymes, others pounding a hoof to their desk.

“Girls! Girls! Calliope, Arengea, Thalia! Celestia help me; don’t make me send you to the principal! Again!”

In perfect harmony the Muses zipped back to their desks and intoned in sickly sweet voices, “We’re sorry, Mrs. Honeysuckle,” with all-too innocent smiles.

Under her breath, Calliope grumbled, “But he started it.”

“If we can get back to the matter at hoof,” Mrs. Honeysuckle said, raising her voice so everypony knew to drop the subject. “While it was certainly an, uh, entertaining story, Miss Sparkle, I’m afraid you’re only going to get partial marks. This wasn’t a creative writing assignment, after-all.”

Ears wilting, Morta shrank underneath the looks of her classmates and teacher. Only her cousins showed any sympathy, but they would not risk incurring another in a long list of trips to the principal's office. Bereft of allies, and with everypony suspicious because she claimed to have friends who were dead—Sombra was nowhere near as bad as the history books made out!—and spend her weekends in the Underworld—which was why she couldn’t have friends over to visit—if anypony had wanted to visit her, that is—Morta gave a quiet apology, and slunk back to her desk.

The rest of class was spent shooting furtive glances at the clock above the door, willing it to spin faster so she could go home and crawl into bed and hide from the cruel disc. Slowly the hours ticked. Far too slowly. Mind numbingly slowly. As if the clock was aware of her embarrassment and wanted to drag it out for all the disc to enjoy.

Tick-tick-tock.

In the background, Mrs. Honeysuckle’s voice warbled with some basic math lessons.

Tock-tock-tick…

Blue pantomimed being a ghost. A favourite of the mortals when they teased her.

Tick-tock-tick…

Stupid clock.

Morta bet it was in cahoots with the dark kings of Hell, placed here just to drag out her torment.

Did it just count backwards?! No… She was imagining it.

She jittered a leg under her desk. She could feel glares on the back of her head.

Why did Mrs. Honeysuckle always make her sit at the front of the class?! Right where everypony could stare at her. Judge her.

And why wouldn’t that stupid, lazy clo—A sharp clanging filled the classroom as the clock struck three, and class was ajourned.

Mrs. Honeysuckle had long since given up even attempting to control her class when it was time to leave. An uproarious cacophony filled the classroom as the Muses hurled books into their bags, eager to get home. Calliope and Aoide shouted across the room plans to meet up with their best friends from class 1-B. Arengea and Thalia discussed ideas for a new game. Polyhymnia broke out into a solo song. Arche shouted questions about homework, but was drowned out by her sisters. Clio was the only one who was quiet and reserved, daintily sorting out her school supplies while her sisters carried on making noise. At the same instant the doors were flung open by their father.

“Come on, girls!” Zeus called in his usual, booming voice, laughter just barely contained beneath the surface as he entered the classroom.

“Daddy!” the Muses shouted out, jumping around and onto Zeus. Arengea and Calliope hung from his wings, while Arche bit his tail, growling like a dog.

“Oh-ha-ha! Look at you girls go! Filled with spit and thunder today! You were good for your teacher, hmm? Didn’t cause Mrs. Honeysuckle too many problems?”

“Of course, daddy!” the Muses intoned in unison sing-song tones, all smiles and innocence.

From behind her desk, Mrs. Honeysuckle gave her head an exasperated shake. “Mr. Thunderer,” she said, pushing up her large glasses as she glared at the God of Storms, “How many times must you be told that parents are to wait outside school grounds?”

“At least once more!” Zeus chuckled, gathered up his daughters, and set off down the hallways. Slowly, the riotous cacophony of the family faded, and then was gone.

Behind the Muses, the rest of the class departed in far more normal levels of energy and noise.

Despite her very fervent desire to leave, Morta was the last one out of the classroom. She didn’t want to bump into any of her classmates, and decided to give them ample time to disperse and find better things to do than tease her. Peeking around corners to make sure the coast was clear, Morta snuck out one of the side doors, dashed across the playground, and into the family carriage situated on the street.

Waiting at the door, prim and proper as always, was her hoofmaid and nanny; Miss Marmalade Apple. A plain brown mare in her early twenties, she was a distant cousin of some-sort, though Morta had never bothered to figure out the logistics.

Bowing her head a little as she pulled the carriage door open, Marmalade asked, “How did your presentation go, your Highness?”

“Don’t want to talk about it,” Morta mumbled into her legs. “Ewerypony thought I was making up thtories again.”

Climbing into the carriage and sitting across from her mistress, Marmalade put on a warm smile.

“Well, that is their problem, your Highness. You know you told the truth. It is up to them to decide whether to believe you or not. Besides, you have a big evening ahead to worry about. So, let’s look forward to that instead.”

“We do?” Morta looked up, trying to remember what Marmalade was talking about.

“The gala, your Highness, tonight is the gala commemorating the thirtieth anniversary of the Ascension of the Stars! Thirty years since your mother took her rightful place among the other alicorns. Honestly, it doesn’t surprise me you forgot, what with how intent you’ve been working on your report. This is the first time the entire pantheon will have gathered since you were born, making it a truly special occasion. The Queen and First Princess of the Taiga are already in town, and the King of Tartarus will arrive tonight. Then there are the Princess and Prince of the Crystal City, along with the Duke and Duchess of Yoke. Plus…”

Morta rolled her eyes and let out a huff as Miss Marmalade continued to list the various guests, all of whom were relatives in some fashion or other. “I see Gwanny Iwidia and Aunt Soir all the time. And what is so special about papa being here? To thay nothing of Cadence and uncle Shiny. They live half the year in Canterlot!”

Marmalade was not put out, and just smiled and reached over to pat Morta’s hoof.

“Yes, but the God of the Dead is very rarely seen on the disc. It is a special night, even if it seems ordinary to you, your Highness.”

Frowning, Morta didn’t see what was so special about her father visiting Ioka. And he always made time for her in Tartarus. The line of souls to be judged could stretch to the furthest gates of the city, and he’d abandon his throne to spend time with his family. If anything, he made maybe a little too much time.

To say he was doting was an understatement.

Dolls filled her rooms in Tartarus, Canterlot, and Reinalla to the ceiling. She had entire chambers dedicated to her dresses. Boxes upon boxes of hats and ribbons. And the treats. So many sweets she was a little sick of them. Cupcakes, muffins, cakes, and maranges to fill a hundred bakeries.

Morta felt a little quessy just thinking about sugary confections. Maybe that had been his plan all along. Make her sick of treats so she wouldn’t want them anymore and would eat her peas and carrots with a smile. If it had been, then it had worked.

The carriage rolled through a side gate to the Solarium Palace, formerly known as Canterlot Castle. A new wing had been added to the castle in the past few decades. A soaring front with Gaean columns before twelve tall winds filled with stained glass images of the primary alicorns of Ioka.

Down the right side were the six of the Day; Celestia, regal and crowned by Sol; Zeus, hurling his thunderbolt; Iridia, clutching a budding flower in a rolling field; Faust, working at a loom; Tyr, with her scales above her head, and sword lain across her lap; and lastly Fleur, holding a scroll in one hoof, and Aegis strapped to the other.

To the left ranged the six of the Night; Luna, beautiful and serene beneath Selene; Twilight, swimming through a midnight sea of star; Soir, laughing as she was surrounded by a murmur of small birds; Hades, cold and judgemental on his hallowed throne with supplicants bowing; and Cadence, playing looking on at a pair of lovers beneath a starry sky. The final window was empty. Left blank. The final member of the six remained undetermined.

It was a topic of discussion and conjecture, even after several years. Some ponies favoured the Muses as a group, others thought that the position belonged to Demeter, Fluttershy, or even Poseidon. His group of adherents was perhaps the smallest, owing to the slight fact that he visited even less often than Hades, and unlike Zeus, who’d decided to abandon Gaea in favour of Ioka for the time being, remained firmly entrenched in the affairs of that other world, acting as its new King of the Gods with his brother’s absence.

Morta knew who belonged on that last window. It was her aunt Rarity, returned from Tartarus after many trials and adventures. She was mother to a third of the Muses, wife to Celestia and Zeus, and the Goddess of Beauty.

To say Rarity was the only real choice was an understatement.

Still, Rarity mostly stayed away from the public eye, rarely seen even decades after her return.

Behind the windows was a new throne room, one with thrones for each of the alicorns depicted on the windows. The alicorns took turns presiding over the expanded court. Some of the thrones were rarely occupied, Hades in particular only joining when he was needed, while a few were always in attendance, like Celestia and Fleur.

It wasn’t Equestria they ruled either, governance for the nation having been passed to a democratic council headed by the Prime Minister. Rather, they listened to the needs of petitioners seeking guidance, blessings, or just wanting to see the gods that tended to so many aspects of the world.

This day, the line of petitioners was especially long, snaking out of the palace grounds and around the block.

In a few hours, a long stream of carriages for the rich, famous, or important would begin arriving. Diplomats, business ponies, and artists pouring into the massive hall for a night of schmoozing.

And she would have to be there the entire time.

Morta groaned at the prospect.

“Come now, at least you will have company,” Marmalade pointed out. “All the other young princesses are in Canterlot for the gala as well.”

Morta grunted a noncommittal noise, and sank lower in her seat as the carriage came to a stop. She slank to the doors, and moped in the corridors, and mumbled into the modest room next to her parents. She could hear them chatting as they got ready for the evenings’ festivities, but was unable to make out the words. Her father’s brassy tones mingled with a smooth silken hum punctuated by sharper avian chirping.

Morta was quickly dressed with Marmalade’s expert assistance. She really didn’t want to go to the party, and made this known continually.

“Can’t I just thtay here in my wooms? Nopony will even notice I’m missing!” Morta whined as Marmalade fitted a jeweled necklace about her throat.

“I will,” came her mother’s voice from the doorway.

Twilight wore the finest dress of rich navy blue and gold trim, with a flowing elegant train just a little reminiscent of a bridal gown. Perched above her horn was a bone crown of carved ponies in an angelic choir, signalling her as a Queen of the Underworld. Her twinkling mane was made into an elaborate braid held together with gold chains and diamonds. The only simple jewelery was the necklace given to her by Iridia so many years before. She smiled, a brilliant flash of white that sparkled with her eyes.

“How did the history report go?” Twilight asked with keen interest as she replaced Marmalade, taking up combs, ribbons, and powders to help her daughter prepare for the gala.

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” Morta muttered, dropping her gaze to the floor. “Ewrypony thought I was lying, and the Muses wouldn’t speak up and just made it worse.”

Clicking her tongue, Twilight pinched Morta’s cheek. “You wanted to tell the truth, and you did. Nopony can control what other ponies believe.”

“I don’t wanna go to school no more. Why can’t I be homeschooled? Or get a tutor, or thomething!”

“School is important to learn how to socialise and interact with other ponies, not just learning math and history,” Twilight patiently said as she worked on braiding Morta’s chalk white mane.

“But—!”

“Listen to your mother,” Hades’ rumbled as he strode into the room, Luna at his side, one of his wings draped protectively over her withers.

“Indeed,” Luna added her weight to the conversation with a sharp nod. “All little fillies and colts must go to school. I wish I had when I was your age.”

Luna’s dress matched Twilights, just with dark, velvety lavender in place of the blue so they looked like complimentary reflections. The only major difference was Tamashi, the sword in a ceremonial scabbard along Luna’s left side, and shrunken in size through some arcane method known only to Luna.

Detaching herself from Hades, Luna joined Twilight, taking up a long silver chain to bind Morta’s mane.

Whining pointless, Morta settled for silently moping as her mothers set about finishing the task of getting her ready.

Eyes sparkling with delight as he surveyed his wives working, Hades conjured a cigar—a favourite vice ever since he’d been introduced to them a few years prior by Big Macintosh. He’d gotten so far as clipping the end and summoning a floating flame when Twilight cleared her throat.

“Not in Morta’s bedroom, dear.”

“Ah, right, a thousand apologies, my loves,” Hades banished cigar and flame, and took Twilight’s wing with his own. “Have I said how ravishing you both are this evening? Your beauty stunned me of my senses, otherwise I would never have been so foolish.”

He followed up with a series of kisses that flowed along Twilight’s wing, up the curve of her neck, to her lips, and down the other side, before carrying on to Luna. Twilight rolled her eyes with a giggle and ever-so-slight shake of the head. Luna reciprocated the kiss once is reached her lips, wrapping a leg around Hades’ neck.

“Ew! Not in my room!” Morta stuck out her tongue, and her parents disengaged with deep blushes.

She knew they’d be back to kissing the moment she turned her back. Her parents could hardly keep their hooves off each other. Especially when her mothers were all dressed up. It was like catnip to Hades.

Deciding to take advantage of the momentary embarrassment that flashed across her parent’s faces, Morta quickly said, “Please, let me take home thcooling. I don’t wanna go to school anymore.” Morta added in a sniffle, for extra emphasis. “The Muses don’t play with me. All the other foals think I’m weird. And Mrs. Honeysuckle is so mean.”

“Well, your father and I can have a talk with your teacher.”

“Mo~om, that will just make things worthe!”

“Well, how about this?” Twilight spread a wing over Morta’s brow, and when she retracted it, a star was tucked behind Morta’s ear. “You can have Vega, this way you’ll have somepony to talk to when you need a friendly ear. A friend, just for you and you alone. How does that sound?”

Hoof shaking, Morta reached up and touched the star. Vega gave a pleased chirp, laughed, and burrowed into Morta’s mane like she was making a nest.

“But, mom, thtars sleep during the day,” Morta said in a hushed tone, but she smiled wide. “And wont ponies think I’m even weirder? And, doesn’t she need to watch over you-know-where so the undeadies don’t escape?”

Laughing, Twilight ruffled her daughter’s mane, then groaned as she had to set about fixing it back up.

“Well, ponies thought I was weird when I was your age. Ponies think a lot of silly things, especially about those who are a little different. You just have to learn how to let it go. Once they see it doesn’t bother you, they will leave you alone if they are bullies, and think you are ‘cool’ or ‘hip’ if they are the popularity seeking types. I have it on very good authority!” Twilight nodded, and her smile was etched with certainty.

Morta was far less certain than her mother, but she appreciated the effort.

Chuckling, Hades stepped around so that he was in front of his daughter. He picked her up and set her on his back as the family started towards the ballroom.

“As for Southstone Spires,” he said, “that is for me and your mothers to worry about.” He then leaned in for a conspiratorial whisper. “And between us, pumpkin, I’ve placed a few agents in the area to keep ponies away. Nothing like a few rumours of vampires to keep all but the most determined at bay, eh?”

Morta nodded, pleased with the explanation.

Nearing the gala, Morta could hear it was already in full swing. She was put down, dress straightened, and then they were introduced by the crier. She tried her best to appear dignified, but felt so small next to her beautiful mothers and stoic father. Stiffly she marched into the ballroom as her name was called with her relatively meagre list of titles. After the long list given for her father and mothers, it was rather short, and she winced at ‘Princess of Tartarus’.

It turned out she needn't worry, the Muses already the center of attention so that few ponies were paying attention to anything else. Celestia, Zeus, and Rarity had their own sizable gatherings, with a few dancers already on the floor. A little to one side a small cluster of zebras in their colourful clothes began to make their way towards the family.

“Empress Hattmettren,” Twilight greeted the zebrican princess as she approached, and the politicking for the night began, “How is your mother?”

“Still a little stiff whenever your name is brought up,” answered the middle-aged princess. “May I introduce you to my daughter, the crown-princess of Zebrica?”

The gentle music the band played suddenly shifted to a soothing melody that conjured images of lovers bathed in Selene’s graceful light as Hades and Luna reached the dance floor’s edge.

“A tango, dear? So soon?” Luna’s eyes danced as she was swept up by Hades, leaving Twilight to meet with the ponies heading in their direction.

The music swelled, the violin giving a mournful cry answered by the piona, and the bassy humm of the cello. Their hooves skipped to the beat, a space quickly made for the pair as they spun, dipped, and swept across the dancefloor in passion and beauty in equal measure. No dancers were as famed as Luna and Hades, their tangos legendary throughout the disc for their sensual artistry. All eyes were on the duo, and the Muses began to add their own, special magic to the music in the form of a melodic chorus.

Twilight stamped her hooves to the beat, and whistled as Hades dipped Luna, kissed her on her fiery lips, and then tossed her overhead. She landed, caught his wing, and then spun him in turn. The music reached a crescendo, and Hades and Luna embraced again. Twilight laughed, clapping at the antics of her husband and wife.

As the dance ended, the Muses took center stage, their powerful voices reaching from the ballroom over the gardens, and out to the city beyond in gospel notes.

“Regale me, O’ Muses,” the crowd intoned together, demanding one of the many tales of Rarity and Trixie Lulamoon, and their adventures escaping the Underworld, their time on distant Gaea, and their return home.

It was a night to remember. Everything in the disc was right and at peace, if only for a brief time.

In the north, over the rim of the disc, hovered a giant, red sun around which a bale of world-turtles swam.

Ioka tossed back her continent sized head as she gave a mighty cry to her kin that echoed across the empty expanse of space between worlds.

Author's Note

If you've enjoyed my writing, please consider donating. You can buy me a Ko-Fi , or just directly donate with Paypal to alaster31@hotmail.com. I could really use any support and help to keep writing. Thank you!

A little epilogue to lighten the mood and further add to the aftermath. This has been written for, oh gosh, 3 years now? Something like that. Besides a little touching up here and there, this has been done for quite some time now. It is set long after the side stories in the Anthology, obviously, as Morta isn't even mentioned there.

There were a few aspects that I've changed in the last couple weeks since the previous chapter was posted. Namely, the Twi-Hades-Luna dynamic was greatly expanded upon. For some reason I picture them as being a lot like the Addams Family. Can't quite figure out why... =^.^=b The gala was also added, and what had been a conversation in the carriage between Morta and Twilight was totally rekajiggered into two conversations. One between Morta and Marmalade, who is Applejack and Soarin's youngest daughter, and then the conversation as Morta is getting dressed for the gala.

If you're confused why Morta is in a class with the younger muses, and why they are all in a class together, it is all the Muses faults. They keep getting themselves held back on purpose, and poor Mrs. Honeysuckle is the only teacher willing to take the Terrors of Canterlot on as students. :trollestia:

For the full, real last Author's Notes, see those for the previous chapter.

Book One: Chapter One: The Last Normal Day

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book One: Awakening and Arrivals
Chapter One: The Last Normal Day

Traditionally, mornings at the Books and Branches Library started late. In fact, mornings started so late they barely had time to get out of bed and stretch before they were turning into afternoon. This was due in no small part to the Librarian—a student of magic from Canterlot, Heroine of Equestria, Countess of the Everfree, and confirmed night-owl—Twilight Sparkle.

It wasn't that she slept more than other ponies. As Twilight boasted, she needed less sleep than the average pony, a mere six point six, six, nine hours being sufficient.

Neither was she an insomniac. Once her head hit the pillow, Twilight usually fell asleep within minutes, drifting off into dreams even if there was a pressing problem buzzing about in her thoughts. This ability had been honed, thanks to careful lessons from Celestia. It served Twilight well, and she found most problems had a tendency to be sorted by her subconscious mind while she slept. Twilight’s dreams used to concern her somewhat. Ironically, the only time the technique failed was when Twilight was worried about disappointing or failing Celestia.

Rather, the trouble was that she stayed up until the early hours of the morning. Twilight was an avid stargazer and candlelight reader. She found the flickering lights heightened the experience, creating a soft, mystical blanket that made her feel like her hero, Star Swirl the Bearded.

By some weird quirk, all her best ideas had a habit of coalescing around midnight. Most often they would occur as she gazed out her window up at the velvet tapestry of the night. There would be a little flash of inspiration followed by a giddy little rush as she’d write them down. The stars always seemed just a touch brighter when she had these moments of brilliance.

Therefore, Twilight was shocked when she felt a small claw on her back, right above her kidneys, at around seven in the morning. Groaning, Twilight rolled over, pillow sliding from her face onto the floor allowing the beams of sunlight filtering through the crack in the curtains to assault her tender eyes.

"Spiiiiiike, what is it?"

"Letter from the Princess," answered her assistant, the dragon chuckling as Twilight's red-rimmed eyes burst open and fixated on the scroll held in his claws.

"What! When did it arrive? Is she mad at me?"

Twilight scrambled out of her bed as her voice grew more stressed, and her mane took on a frizzy appearance, one not helped by her terrible bed-mane. Spike had taken to waking up before Twilight in the last several months, a stark reversal of their old sleeping habits. It did let the young drake have an hour, or rather the entire morning, to himself before Twilight would eventually drag herself out of bed.

On their stand, Owlowisious and Peewee both rolled their eyes and ruffled their feathers, the owl and phoenix both finding the antics amusing. While Owlowisious tried to return to sleep, Peewee hopped from rung to rung of the stand, chirping and beating his developing wings. Performing an awkward controlled fall, the young phoenix landed on Spike’s head, where he mimicked the drake’s smug grin and proud tilt of the head.

With a tight smile and little flourish, Spike presented the rolled scroll to his surrogate sister. Her eyebrow arched a little when she noticed that it wasn't the red and gold seal of Celestia, nor the midnight blue of Luna. Letting out a relieved sigh, Twilight recognized the soft pink of Cadence’s seal that was wrapped around the parchment.

The moment Twilight read past the opening pleasantries a hair sprung loose from her mane.

"Twilight, what's going on?" Spike couldn't keep the concern out of his voice.

"It's my family… They’re all coming down tomorrow to visit me for this year’s Celebration of Life," Twilight said, a disbelieving note in her voice.

“All of them?” Spike shook his head and looked up at Twilight puzzled.

“Well, not all.” Twilight waved the letter towards Spike. “Just Mother, Father, Shiny, and Cadence.”

“So, only a few, then,” Spike grunted as he took the letter. "That’s okay. Pinkie was planning a party for you anyways, since it's your twenty-first birthday and everything. This doesn't change anything, just a few more names on the guest list." For emphasis Spike pulled out a list of names.

"Well, yes, except I was expecting only a dozen guests. I don't have enough punch or hors d'oeuvres for more ponies. And I already re-decorated the guest bedroom for Princess Luna. We don't have room for everypony to stay here, which means I need to reserve rooms at the inn." Twilight began pacing around her bedroom, eyes darting in a manner that Spike knew meant she was quickly doing some arithmetic and juggling potential solutions. "Plus, there's this line here from my parents saying they have something very important to tell me now that I am legally a full adult. What's that mean? What can they tell me tomorrow that they can't tell me now, or last week, or last year!"

Twilight was brought out of her spiraling train of thought by Spike snapping her name. With a little twitch in the corner of her eye, she looked down at the small dragon.

"Twilight, you're having a panic attack," Spike stated, slowly walking up to her and laying a claw on her withers.

Quickly, Twilight did a catalogue of her symptoms. Elevated fluttering heart rate, check; crawling sensation in the skin, check; negative thoughts, check; desire to run and escape, check; nausea, check; oh, and there's the feeling of unreality, so check again!

Left ear flicking and eye twitching faster, Twilight mentally reached for her most important checklist.

She had spent weeks memorizing the checklist, just in case. She couldn't trust to always have a physical copy nearby—Twilight had tried that, it didn't work.

Sitting quickly, she took a long deep breath in through her nose, and let it out from her mouth. Repeating this several times, Twilight began saying a short mantra.

"I am calm, I am collected, I can handle this. I am calm, I am collected, I can handle this. This isn't an emergency, I have time to think this through. This isn't an emergency, I have time to think this through."

After several minutes of breathing exercises and repeating mantras, Twilight opened her eyes and smiled down on Spike.

"Thank you, whatever would I do without my number one assistant?" She playfully ruffled Spike’s soft spines, eliciting a gag and huff from the dragon.

"You'd probably be running around trying to re-organise the library, maybe hide in a corner chewing on your tail, or-"

"Yes, Spike I get it, I can go crazy sometimes." Twilight gave Spike a deadpan look as she headed towards the kitchen. "Come on, we'll need to go to the market and get more food, then head to Sugarcube Corner to inform Pinkie that there will be more ponies at the party. As the party planner, it's only polite to inform her. Knowing Pinkie, she'll probably want to throw a little pre-party to welcome my family. But first, let's have breakfast."

At the mention of breakfast, the little dragon scampered after her with a happy smile on his lips.

The Friendship Express rolled to a slow stop, a shrill whistle announcing its arrival at Ponyville’s train station. Families lined up outside the train, tearful good-byes and joyful welcomings were exchanged between friends and loved ones all along the platform.

Sighing to herself, Fleur de Lis stood and adjusted the single set of saddlebags she had brought. Normally, she would have travelled with half a dozen suitcases. Normally, she'd also travel in the First Class car along with the other nobles, wealthy business tycoons, celebrities, and members of Equestria’s gentry. But this trip was not normal, not in any sense of the word.

Pausing as she looked left and right, Fleur saw a couple ponies she recognised; a pair of mares from the famed group, The Elements of Harmony. Heroines all, they had done more than she could hope to do in two lifetimes.

The first was Twilight Sparkle, the leader of the group, personal protégé of Princess Celestia, Countess of the Everfree, and one of the most humble and under-appreciated mares alive. The Canterlot Elite took great pains to snub and look down on Twilight Sparkle and her friends. Fleur had never understood their penchant for trying to squash those they saw as undesirables. Not that it mattered.

Rumour among the palace was that Twilight Sparkle was being groomed for the position of Arch-Mage, and combined with her other titles, the position of her House, and her own natural skill, Twilight was going to be a mare with considerable power and clout in a short while.

Then they would be scurrying and begging for Twilight's favour. Fleur had seen it happen before.

The other mare present was a pink earth pony, bouncing up and down on the spot like a ball. A cake, complete with lit candles, was perched atop her head and the widest grin was plastered on her face. 'Pinkie Pie', Fleur said to herself recalling the mare's name. Element of Laughter and a Lady of the Court. Hardly a care in the world, Pinkie Pie was singing a jaunty, bouncy tune as the pair stood on the platform.

Fleur didn't wait around to see whom they were waiting to greet. Spying was beneath her and not something she ever indulged in. At least socially. There were some spies she knew on a professional level. Then again, what ambassador to a foreign country didn't know at least a few spies?

Leaving the train station, Fleur pulled out a small map of the town, and quickly located her destination. Setting off at a brisk trot, Fleur tried to not think about the events that had brought her to Ponyville, instead focusing on the future. The future involving a brightly-painted circular building near the town's center and market district.

Humming a song popularised during the wedding of Princess Cadence and Sir Shining Armour the previous spring, Fleur felt her spirits lift for the first time that day.

Yes, the future was going to be brighter, Fleur promised herself. After all, how could it be any worse than the recent past?

As the song was reaching its inevitable finale, Fleur's destination came into sight, Carousel Boutique. Slowing to a walk, doubt settled in around Fleur's thoughts.

She'd been so certain when she’d left Canterlot that morning that what she was doing was the right thing. Of all the mares in Equestria, Rarity Belle was the only one Fleur would call a true friend. Canterlot high society was not conducive to the making, or keeping, of friends. Not for Fleur anyways, who, as the ambassador from distant Prance, was often seen with scorn and as a necessary evil. Relations between Equestria and Prance had been chilly for generations. Fleur had done more than any of her predecessors to close the gulf between the two nations, but was still ostracised by Equestria’s elite and nobility. Today, Fleur needed a friend more than anything.

Steeling her resolve, Fleur went up to the door, pushed it open and went inside to the jingle of a bell.

"Come in, and welcome to Carousel Boutique, where everything is chic, unique, and magnifique!" said a welcoming sing-song voice Fleur knew very well.

Rounding a corner from—presumably—her work area came the store's owner. She looked rougher than the last time Fleur had seen her. A few hairs of the white unicorn's purple mane were out of place, with barely detectable bags under her eyes. Seeing Fleur, she gasped lightly, removed the red glasses perched atop her nose, and gave a wide genuine smile.

"Fleur, darling, whatever are you doing down in little old Ponyville? Do come in, please," Rarity added, beckoning for Fleur to follow her into the back, which Fleur quickly discovered was a sizable kitchen and dining area. "Can I get you anything? Tea? Biscuits? Anything at all?"

"Oui, mon amie, some tea would be delightful," Fleur replied with a tired smile as she set her saddlebags by the door before taking a seat at the table.

"I wasn't expecting to see you until the Winter Fashion Show in Canterlot, darling," Rarity said, making small chat as she set a kettle on the stove and retrieved a tin of biscuits from a cupboard. "Tell me, how are you doing, and how is Fancy Pants?"

Fleur winced at the mention of her husband and looked down at the red and white checkered tablecloth. Something so plain and homely would never have existed in a Canterlot noble's home. There was almost certainly a story behind the tablecloth for it to be in Rarity's home. The fashionista prided herself too much on her sense of decor for it to be otherwise. Knowing she couldn't stay quiet and ruminate on the checkered pattern, Fleur slowly looked up and said the words she been dreading—and wanting—to say all day.

"Fancy Pants and I had a fight. It... wasn't pleasant."

"Oh," was all Rarity said, her demeanor morphing from an excited friend about to share gossip, to one about to console and provide support. A few minutes passed in silence as the tea was prepared. Finally, as the tea was being poured, Rarity said, "If you are here, then it must have been very terrible, if you don't mind my saying."

"Non, I don't, because it is true," Fleur muttered. Taking the steaming cup in her shaky magical grasp she took a quick sip before adding, "It is all my fault as well."

Pausing to sip her own tea, Rarity waited with a patience that would have made Celestia herself proud. As their tea slowly dwindled, Rarity finally asked, "Do you wish to talk about it? I understand if you don't."

"Oui, talking is good, I think," Fleur sighed, closing her eyes. For a few more minutes Fleur tried to say what was on her mind, but each time the words caught in her throat. After the fourth attempt, she decided to try another avenue of conversation and hope she'd gather her courage in the interim.

"Why haven't you sought to court Fancy Pants?"

Fleur winced as the question rolled off her lips. Rarity's crystal blue eyes widened for an almost imperceptible moment, before settling into a soft faraway gaze. It was a touchy subject between the two friends.

Over the two years they had known each other, Fleur had come to enjoy Rarity's company, and respect her for putting friendship before appearances. Fleur had dropped hints and suggestions that if Rarity wanted to court Fancy Pants and join the budding herd, she'd not be opposed. As the first mare it was her right and prerogative to allow other mares into the herd, and Fleur could think of none other she'd be willing to accept.

For her part, Rarity had always changed or avoided the subject.

"I suppose it’s because I’ve always wanted a charming and dashing prince of my own. A stallion to whisk me off my hooves in a blazing whirlwind of romance. Don't get me wrong, dear, Fancy Pants is everything a mare could ask for and more. But I want a strong, gallant, and tender warrior-prince like out of the books of my own."

Tilting her head a little, Fleur gave Rarity a perplexed stare.

It sounded a bit like Rarity was suggesting she was a monogamist. Fleur didn't rule it out, though among the female dominated population of ponies it was exceedingly rare. For every colt almost three fillies were born. As if sensing where Fleur's thoughts were headed, Rarity grew flustered.

"It's not that... What I meant was rather... Oh, bother." Taking a few breaths, Rarity collected her thoughts before she again spoke. "I know it’s impossible and nothing more than a fairy tale. A foalish dream, perhaps. One Prince Blueblood did a thorough job treading into the mud. But I wanted to have something like what you and Fancy Pants share. It's selfish, I suppose, and something that perhaps the Element of Generosity shouldn't entertain, but there it is. Besides, the last few years I've focused on my work and my friends. I'm no longer in any rush to find a stallion."

Fleur nodded slowly, everything Rarity said made sense with what Fleur knew about her. The way Rarity cringed when she called herself foalish spoke volumes more than the words themselves. Behind Rarity's eyes there was a twinge of loneliness, but also resilience. The dress-maker was speaking only half the truth, Fleur could tell.

While Fleur regretted her foolish question, she couldn't stop herself from digging a little deeper.

"What about foals?"

"What about them, darling?"

"Have you ever thought about them? What they would look like. How they'd run around your hooves or get into all sorts of mischief?"

Fleur's mind and voice both trailed off so that she missed the first portion of Rarity's reply. She became lost in a sea of swirling thoughts and memories, ranging from her courtship of Fancy Pants to the events and argument of that morning.

"Yes, I've thought about it. What mare doesn't?" Rarity said with an almost whimsical half-smile as her own thoughts pattered down old fantasies. Both mares returned to the present as Rarity said, "But that is all far down the road for me. Maybe in a few years when I'm more established, and have found the proper stallion, whomever he may be, I'll have a foal, or three. But now? I put that off to the indefinable future."

Dreams, and the memories of dreams, continued to swirl about Fleur as she sipped at her tea.

"I used to dream of what mine and Fancy Pants' foals would look like. Would they have had his eyes or mine? Would they have been kind and gentle like him, or irrepressible scamps as I once was? I could close my eyes and smell the incense of the Temple of Names and feel the heat of the candles on my face. I tried to imagine what the priestesses' draughts would taste like and my foals' names would be. They were good dreams."

"'Used to'?"

"Oui."

Silence again reigned in the boutique as Fleur stared into the remnants of her tea. After a few minutes tears began to slowly slide their way down her muzzle. Fleur didn't try to stop them, unlike during the train ride. She let them fall gently from her face to tap on the out of place tablecloth. A hoof reached across the table and clasped her own, giving it a gentle reassuring touch.

"What happened?"

"It is what can never happen, mon amie," Fleur said, at last rubbing the tears from her eyes. "Fancy and I, we've been trying for a foal the last few years with no success. With the Season almost upon us again I thought to see a doctor. I've heard of mares who needed some help or push to conceive, and thought it'd be simple enough. Maybe a potion or some terrible tasting herb I'd have to chew. I— I didn't expect…"

Fleur grew quiet again as emotions rose in her chest, pressing her throat and mouth closed. With all the patience and grace one would expect from the royalty, Rarity waited, her hoof never leaving Fleur's own.

The words seemed pointless. From the glimmer of tears gathering in Rarity's eyes, Fleur knew that her friend at least suspected what was about to be said. But she also knew that if she didn't say them, she'd hate herself all the more.

"I can't have foals. Ever."

"Oh, Fleur," Rarity whispered, sliding from her chair so she could embrace her friend in a tight hug. For what felt like hours, she held Fleur as the tall mare sobbed into her shoulder. Every so often Rarity would murmur gentle re-assurances as she stroked Fleur's long cotton pink mane. Eventually, and with a hint of dread, Rarity asked, "What did Fancy say?"

"He said that he still loves me. Even when I can't give him foals, he said he still loves me. Oh doux, Celestia, what have I done? The things I said! I am a terrible pony, just leaving him like that. I was so hurt, and frightened, and angry."

Slowly Fleur shook her head as she shrugged out of Rarity’s hug.

"It pains me to ask, but, I could use a place to stay, if you have room, Rarity."

"What? Of course! I wouldn't dream of having you stay elsewhere," Rarity said instantly. Getting up, Rarity made her way to a small door that led down into a cellar. Disappearing for a few minutes, Rarity emerged carrying a bottle of wine in her magic. A smile actually managed to find its way onto Fleur's face when Rarity said, "Tea is all well and good, but for news this awful the only answer is a bottle of Grenache; something to wash away the bitterness, wouldn't you agree, darling?"

Night came to Ioka, sweeping across the disc like a velvet fog while the ancient turtle swam through the endless void. The single largest creatures ever to exist, the mighty world-turtles were also the oldest, born the instant the first grain of time fell within the endless hourglass. Within the great crucible of the forgotten Far Realm they spawned, born of the boundless energies expelled as worlds and realities were formed and crushed.

Ioka was one of the middle-worlds; younger than some, older than many. She had countless siblings, all of them connected by the lingering strands of the first dreams. Her elephants—what the mortal races that lived upon her disc had named the mountainous spurs that grew from Ioka’s shell—were still sharp and jagged. Eight in number, the elephants held the disc like a vice in their grip.

Upon the disc, within the heart of Equestria, a cold wind blew across the land, racing down the mountain slopes before billowing along valley floors and gently caressing the tops of the ancient sycamores. All too soon, the wind reached Canterlot, coiling about the peak of Canterhorn, on which the ancient city perched like a mighty crescent wing. Down the cobblestone streets it danced and caroused, bouncing between the buildings surrounding the palace of the Sun and Moon, slipping through open windows to nip at ponies nestled snuggly in their beds before flowing back into the night.

Unicorns awoke, eyes blearily blinking from dull aches reaching down through their horns into the base of their skulls. Shuddering against the sudden chill, most curled deeper beneath covers, some staggering to their hooves to snap windows shut. Meanwhile, Pegasus wings twitched and spread, their owners smiling in their dreams, feeling surges of bliss and unaffected by a little nip in the air.

In her chambers in the palace, Princess Celestia raised her head from the lush gold and scarlet sheets of her bed. High above, Luna's moon swam through a sea of twinkling stars. Frowning, Celestia slowly got out of bed and went out onto her balcony. Lifting her nose she carefully tested the wind. The scent of licorice and rainbows filled the air, almost stinging her senses with their combined strength.

"Tia, you feel it as well?" came Luna’s strong, sinuous voice.

"Of course. I suspect half the unicorns can as well," Celestia said as her sister joined her on the balcony. When Luna was beside her, never taking her eyes from the night sky, Celestia said, "It has been ages since I’ve felt this magic. But it can’t be her…"

Arching an eyebrow at her sister's comment, Luna cleared her throat before asking, "You have felt this magic before?"

Giving her sister a sly smile, one Luna had come to associate with secrets, Celestia slowly shook her head. Knowing better than to attempt to pry the information from her sister—that would just result in bad feelings and no answers—Luna continued.

"A magic old as time and the stars themselves, but it is not mine," Luna said. Tapping a hoof to her chin, Luna asked what had to be on both their minds. "You don't think Twilight is doing this, do you? It wouldn't be the first time she accidently used her powers."

"No, this is definitely not being caused by her. Not this time at least," Celestia added with a slight shake of her head.

The wind started to fade away, only to be pulled into the sky above ancient city where it began to spin and coalesce. From the heart of the gathering tempest came a sound like the crack of a whip. Seven flashes pierced the night, each cutting off a portion of the wind. Clouds of magical smoke were spat down from the twinkling night. But they were only the heralds.

The sisters looked at each other, concern clear on their faces.

A deep rumble like thunder and drums echoed across the night, followed by three stars tumbling from the tempest. Luna opened her mouth in shock as a trio of bright lines traced across the velvet canvas of the night in streaks of pink, blue, and silver. The falling stars dipped down towards the horizon in the west, south-east, and north-east, respectively. There followed a brief golden flash before velvet darkness wrapped the sky in an inky embrace, only to be broken again for an instant as the westerly-headed star landed.

With the golden flash of light came a second wave of magic, though unlike the one that had been carried by the wind. Celestia and Luna's eyes both flew wide, instantly recognising this second wave of magic.

"It can not be," Luna whispered, raising a hoof to her lips shocked by the sound of fear in her own voice. Wings spread, Luna looked over to her sister, "Tia, are those three 'stars' what I fear?"

Celestia's answer was silence as her ancient mind began quickly turning over the sudden information.

"The closest landed somewhere near Ponyville," Celestia said, craning her neck to look towards where the stars had landed, ignoring Luna's question. It was a foalish one. Both knew exactly what those stars were. "We will need to begin preparations. I just hope they are friendly."

"That feeling we just had on the wind, it may be related," Luna said stepping back inside Celestia's chambers, following in her older sister’s hoofsteps.

"I would be amazed if it wasn't," Celestia agreed reaching for a quill and her parchment.

Looking over her shoulder to the night sky, Luna shuddered, worry twisting at her insides, wondering what other portents the night held.

"What about Twilight and her birthday tomorrow? Should we change our plans?"

Quill dipped in her inkwell, Celestia considered the question for a long moment. It was an age longer than she needed, Luna knew, which meant her older sister was being extra careful. No doubt she was beginning to move the pieces about in her head, ideas starting to fold into plans.

"No," she finally said, much to Luna's relief. "She is going to be confused, scared, and hurt enough as it is. We can't add this to her worries. For now we'll continue as we planned. Just keep your eyes and ears open while you're in Ponyville, sister. One of them landed near the town and I wouldn't be surprised if they make an appearance. The timing can't be a coincidence."

"Unless it is." Luna smiled mischievously. "But I'll keep my eyes open. Should I bring the Elements with me, just in case?"

Tapping her chin, Celestia shook her head. "I don't think we're at that point yet. But, be careful."

Still smiling, Luna made her way towards the door. As she slipped out of the room, Celestia was left with only the frantic scratching of her quill as she prepared to move the ponies needed to respond to the potential threats.

Eyes opening wide, Fleur shot up and out of her bed, covers twisted around her legs. Crashing onto her back, Fleur laid on the floor, panting and gasping. On her lips she could feel a cool, tingling after-sensation left by... something. Fleur pinched her eyebrows together as she fought to remember what had awoken her. There had been a dream, no, it was more like a nightmare, but it fled her memories like water through a wire mesh.

There had been... something terrible. A fight, perhaps? Fleur's throat felt a little raw, like she had been screaming in her sleep.

"Fleur, are you alright, darling?" came the groggy voice of Rarity through the door.

Fleur slowly extracted herself from her sheets, unsure of exactly what had happened.

"Oui, everything is alright, I just had a bad dream. Go back to sleep," Fleur replied.

"You were screaming." Rarity’s voice hesitated, edging between concern and curiosity. “Are you certain everything is okay?”

Opening the door Fleur nodded, adding a reassuring smile for good measure. She was very good at giving reassuring smiles. Fleur felt confident in the quality of smile she was giving, despite the quivering of her heart and hooves. A shaking that grew every second Fleur looked at the other mare.

Rarity stood in the small second-floor landing between her room and the guest room, sleeping mask perched above her horn. A wave of confusion rolled over Fleur as she looked her friend over. There was something different about Rarity. It was like an image in the corner of her eye, but when she turned to get a better look it would vanish. A name danced on the tip of her tongue, yet refused to be spoken. It was almost enough to crack the practiced smile she wore.

Head tilted to one side, Rarity was giving Fleur an odd look, like she was trying to figure out a difficult problem. After a moment, Rarity nodded once.

Turning back to her room, she slowly said, "Well, if there's any help I can give, or if you want to talk..." Rarity gave Fleur a shaky smile of her own before closing the door to her room.

Not wanting to go back to sleep herself, Fleur quietly left the bedroom and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Maybe some tea would stop the shaking in her hooves, she thought.

Her heart was still hammering in her chest from the dream. The sun was starting to peek above the horizon and, hopefully, it'd be a while before Rarity woke back up. Being as quiet as she could, Fleur entered the kitchen, her mind still turning over the confusion on the landing.

Was it just the lingering effects of her dream? Whatever it had been, it had certainly upended Fleur's normally ordered and practical thoughts. She had heard of other ponies whose dreams could cause such unease, but had never experienced it herself. As a unicorn, Fleur had never experienced the sensation herself. Normally, her dream was pleasant and sweet, leaving a pleasant glow in its wake.

Reaching into the cupboard for a teapot, Fleur was startled from her reverie by the sound of china shattering. Looking up, she saw that she had crushed the teapot in her telekinesis. Cursing at herself, Fleur set the shards down in a waste-bin. It had been years since she'd been careless enough to damage anything with her magic. Again she reached for a teapot, and again it was shattered.

Now, Fleur knew something was wrong.

Though she had never been noticed for her proficiency with magic, she was hardly incapable either. She could comfortably call her skill above average, good enough that control was not something she often had to think about. She certainly didn’t have the power of the great unicorns; Star Swirl the Bearded, Marelin the Great, Clover the Clever, or Twilight Sparkle.

As she thought of Twilight Sparkle, a warm fuzzy feeling began to bloom in Fleur just behind her breastbone. Bringing the image of the countess to the forefront of her thoughts made the warmth grow until a goofy smile found its way onto her lips. After several seconds sitting in Rarity's kitchen with the odd grin, Fleur shook it off, her confusion growing.

She barely knew the countess. They had only met once, very briefly, at a small state dinner years ago when Twilight had only been the princess' student. The bookish young mare, still in her mid-teens, had fumbled her words when she tried to talk to any of the nobles and had left as soon as Celestia so much as hinted that it'd be alright for her to return to her studies.

Wondering what was causing the feeling, Fleur growled to herself as she reached for a third teapot, this time with her hooves.

Thank Celestia that Rarity had nearly half a dozen tea-pots, Fleur thought wryly.

Placing the pot of tea on the stove, and getting a scone with a dollop of jam, Fleur took a moment to try to sort out the mesh of thoughts and feelings buzzing about her skull.

She wished she could remember the dream. It had to be the cause of all the confusing thoughts and images. But it was gone, same as the teapots in the waste bin. There was something else to the dream as well, Fleur realised. She was beginning to pace back and forth in front of the stove. Pacing was something she very rarely did, and only when there was something very pressing.

The last time she had paced was the previous morning in the doctor's office.

Immediately Fleur stopped, and her hoof smacked into her forehead, gently.

She was over-analyzing things. The dream had been twisted by the wine mixed with her own tumultuous emotions. Satisfied with her conclusions, Fleur quickly drank her tea and then returned to bed. When she got up she was going to have to figure out what to say to Fancy Pants when she returned home. Wondering how a pony as terrible as her had ever married a pony as nice as Fancy Pants, Fleur crawled back into bed and quickly fell back to sleep.

Almost as soon as her breathing settled, she began to toss and turn, moaning a single word.

Ares.

Far to the north-east, across the river from the sprawling metropolis and towers of Manehattan, a lone figure pulled her wagon away from the glittering city. Bags of bits jangled happily within the wagon she pulled, creating a wide smile on her face.

It had been a good few months in the City that Never Sleeps, putting on show after sold-out show, but Trixie had begun to grow bored. It was time for a change of scenery. Maybe the glittering lights of Los Pegasus would allow her to bedazzle new crowds with her magnificence. Or perhaps the wide theaters and stages of Vanhoover would give her the exposure she craved. Though it'd be hard to top all the playhouses and the ravenous hunger Manehattanite ponies had for real entertainment.

She could scarcely believe that it had been only a couple years since she'd hit rock bottom. A laughing-stock through most of Equestria. No home, no wagon, no bits, no hope. That had been the toughest fall and winter of her life. Many times she'd considered returning to her family in Baltimare on the long and cold nights. But she'd done it, Trixie had fought her way back to the top and was shining higher and brighter than ever.

The Great and Powerful Trixie indeed!

The blue unicorn was so lost in her happy thoughts and plans, ideas for new shows swimming through her mind as she breathed in the wonderful floral scents of spring, that she failed to notice the deep rumble echoing through the night.

Stones around her hooves began to bounce and skip, making Trixie stop and stare at the jittering road. With her brow pinched, she cast a wary look around. The moon was high over head, as were a few scattered clouds the pegasi had left to drift over the rural lands abutting the great city. Acting like imperfect mirrors, the clouds added to the moon's glow, making the night seem less close and threatening.

It wasn't a stampede of buffalo, which Trixie chided herself for even considering. Or a stampede of ponies, which it very well could have been.

There was no sign of what was causing the growing tremors. Off to Trixie's left was a line of trees, and in the distance the lights of a farm-house twinkled , but otherwise she was totally alone.

Chewing a little on her lower lip, the show pony lit her horn as her thoughts turned towards more and more implausible causes of the noise. Normally, Trixie enjoyed traveling at night. Equestria's roads were the safest in all the known lands, and with Luna's moon always shining so brightly, it wasn't too hard to see. Yet, as more and more frenzied worries began to assault her, each more exotic and fantastic than the last, Trixie began to regret her decision to travel at night.

Just as her fears and worries reached a fevered pitch that almost made Trixie consider abandoning her wagon and racing back to the relative safety of Manehattan, an almighty crash resounded behind her. Trixie twisted her body, but the cart’s reins held her back. preventing her from seeing the cause of the crash, only to for a silvery ball of fire to bounce over her head, little droplets of burning debris trailing after it, like rain droplets falling from branches of a tree.

Mouth falling open, Trixie's eyes trailed the object as it crashed for a second time, landing just beyond the road in a wide ditch.

For a long moment, Trixie didn't know what to do, just standing, frozen at the front of her wagon. Her mind finally snapped back into action when she registered the scent of burning wood. Head whipping back towards her wagon, the showmare let out an oath followed by a frantic yelp.

With a wave of her horn, Trixie undid the latches holding her to the cart. Rushing forward, she quickly channeled a simple water summoning spell. Nothing fancy like she'd use in her shows, no, this was just a simple ball of water she dumped on top of the smoldering flames clinging to the roof of her most valued possession.

Breathing heavily as her heart hammered somewhere in the vicinity of her throat, Trixie took a few extra minutes to make sure her wagon was safe. Satisfied with her quick—though somewhat sloppy—spell-work, she turned her attention to whatever it had been that almost destroyed her home.

Lighting up her horn, Trixie very carefully approached the embankment.

Her eyes grew wide as saucers as they settled on the 'object'.

Laying in the ditch, small flickering flames surrounding her diminutive form, was a young filly. In the light cast by Trixie's horn, the show-mare saw the filly's coat was a silver colour, while her mane and tail were like shimmering sheets of obsidian, a streak of pure white cutting through the middle like a moonbeam across the night.

Groaning, the filly sat up, raising a hoof to rub at the side of her head just below a short horn while small wings flitted in agitation at her side. Trixie blinked, then blinked again, rubbing her eyes in disbelief at what she was seeing.

The filly muttered and groaned as she stood, just to fall immediately on her side with a gentle 'whump', her wing beating and flapping weakly.

Trixie, though she was ashamed to admit it, was confused and unsure what she should do. To say she wasn't the kindest or most altruistic pony around would have been an understatement. If anything she was one of the most self-centered and arrogant ponies that could be encountered. But she wasn't heartless, and only a total monster would abandon a filly in the middle of the night on a cold and desolate road. On top of that, the filly was clearly an alicorn, a race of which there were currently only a hoofful of known members. Unless one had been de-aged and changed their colours, the filly was clearly a new alicorn.

The implications, and possibilities, were not lost on Trixie.

Nor had the fact that the filly didn't seem to notice the light being cast by Trixie's horn.

Shuffling her hooves, Trixie looked longingly back towards her wagon. Maybe she should just move along and act like she'd never encountered the alicorn filly. Celestia or Luna would no doubt be sending the royal guard to investigate, if not come themselves. Trixie had heard of the princesses' connections to that backwater bumpkin town of Ponyville, and given the events when she'd visited the town, Trixie was certain the princesses wouldn't look on her favourably. That upstart Twilight Sparkle—who, frustratingly, was the special, hoof-picked protégé of the princess—would have told her teacher lies about Trixie, and how she had lured that accursed Ursa Minor to the town.

Yes, leaving was probably the best idea. But that small inherent goodness kept nagging at her. Plus, there were the benefits of being the caregiver for a living goddess.

Before a thin smile could form at the idea, the filly's head snapped towards Trixie.

"Who's out there? Show yourself or I'll... uh... blast you! Or something," the filly leveled her horn towards Trixie, eyes narrowed and posture lowering into a fighting stance.

"No need for that, little one!" Trixie trilled, cringing at her own words. 'Little one'? What was she thinking?

The filly's threat to 'blast her' could have been very real, unless, like a unicorn filly, her magic was haphazard at best until she got older.

Not willing to risk the chance of being blasted by even a juvenile alicorn, Trixie waited.

Canting her head to one side then the other, the alicorn narrowed startling blue eyes, and then looked away. Holding her breath, Trixie slid down the embankment and into the ditch.

She was surprised at how large the alicorn filly was, for her build seemed to indicate an age of six or seven springs, but her size was easily as large a filly half again as old. Then again, the filly was an alicorn. All alicorns were tall and imposing.

Using a smile to hide her nerves, like she was doing a show for an important noble, Trixie approached the filly.

When she reached her, the silver alicorn slumped over, leaning against the unicorn.

"That's good... I'd hate to have to blast you," the filly yawned, her eyes fluttering shut and her breaths slowing.

Gently, Trixie lifted the alicorn and carried her to the back door of the wagon. With a swish of her horn, the wagon opened. The interior was painted in warm yellows and reds with folds of green and ethereal blue silk hung like drapes throughout. One side was covered in drawers and cupboards, while the other was left bare. Overhead was a latch, that when pulled, converted the wagon into a stage. As she was depositing the child on the sole bed within the wagon, the filly's eyes fluttered open again.

"Thank you," she murmured as she clutched at the bed's blankets. Repeating the words several more times, the filly drifted off into a deeper slumber.

Trixie had to shake her head as she snapped the door closed and started to re-attach the reins. Smiling and thinking about the new possibilities open to her, Trixie began to pull the wagon again, the gentle roll and crunch of the wheels on the road lulling her new passenger to sleep.

Book One: Chapter Fifteen: The Serpent's Lair

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book One: Awakening and Arrivals
Chapter Fifteen: The Serpent’s Lair

Upon rising to the heavens that balmy dusk, Twilight was greeted by Celestia and Luna lost in a deep conversation just above the equator. Neither seemed to notice as she drifted to a stop just a short distance away. Back and forth, they debated the merits of some plan or other that, without any context, Twilight was at a loss to understand. It took clearing her non-corporeal throat to gain either sister’s attention.

“Ah, good, you’re right on time, Twilight,” Celestia said as she swung away from Luna. There was something off about Celestia’s aetherial form, a certain resonance about her that was at once calming, and yet unsettling nonetheless. Celestia’s edges had an odd crackle to them, like she were floating next to Sol, rather than halfway across the heavens. “We don’t want to alarm you Twilight, but tonight is going to see a bit of a… shift in the heavens.”

“A… shift?” Twilight tried to keep the uncertainty from her tone.

Laying a tendril that would have been a hoof on Twilight’s back, Luna explained. “We are, finally, doing away with a spell enacted long, long before Celestia and I were born.”

“A spell? What kind of spell? And what has it been doing?” Twilight attempted to blink at her cousins as she processed all the thousands of implications, more questions bubbling up as a result. “It shouldn’t be possible for it to be older than you. No enchantment could last so long without renewal. Or, it’s drawing on magic from something. A ley-spring, perhaps? Even then, how is it maintaining its structure? Is the linking of the structure itself adding resiliency? Though, if it is as old as you claim… Could it be a sigil?”

Part of her thoughts applied the reasoning to her own puzzle waiting for her on Marelantis. The door’s wards should have faded in a time before antiquity, yet they were as healthy and hearty as the day they’d been cast.

Stifling a laugh, Celestia grinned at Luna, “I told you we wouldn’t get through this quickly.” Addressing Twilight, she continued, “There will be time enough for full explanations later. Can you be satisfied with the bare essentials for now?”

Twilight pressed the energy comprising her muzzle into a flat line as she thought. She was terribly curious to know everything about what Celestia and Luna were doing, from the how to the why. But she was also pressed for time herself with the door on Marelantis. A little, niggling thought had persisted throughout the day to ask in some round-about manner for Celestia’s thoughts. There wasn’t a great chance that Celestia or Luna knew anything pertinent about Marelantis, and if they were busy with their own troubles…

“I suppose,” Twilight finally said, trying to keep her curiosity out of her voice, “but you’ll tell me everything soon, right?”

“Of course,” Celestia agreed at once, with perhaps a touch too much enthusiasm.

Letting out a long, worried breath, Twilight waited for the explanation. When it didn’t come right away, and both of the sisters began to hum and click their aetherial tongues as they pondered just how to proceed, her impatience got the better of her, and she pressed them with a forceful, “So?”

“You’ll be the sole Shepherd of the Night starting this eve,” Luna said in a rush, followed by a slight wince at the hint of bitterness in her tone.

“Wait, what?” she almost shouted. “I don’t… what?”

“It’s very simple,” Luna continued as if Twilight wasn’t sputtering a series of confused noises. “We will be undoing the Nauta Anar Isilye. Our mothers created it to keep Sol and Selene opposite each other. Its removal will have a plethora of effects, one of which will be that ushering in the night shall fall squarely upon your withers alone.”

Had Twilight a head, it would have been spinning, and had she a body, she’d have needed to sit down. Lacking both, she settled for spreading out like melting icecream.

“There may also be a very short period of… magical instability up to, and especially around, noon tomorrow,” Celestia added, plainly gaining some amount of pleasure from Twilight’s reaction. “We didn’t want you to be worried.”

“I’m just… this is a lot to take in,” Twilight admitted. “And on top of Lev—” She quickly shut her mouth and looked away, embarrassed.

“On top of what, Twilight?” There was a mischievousness to the question, a little extra happy spark in Celestia’s playful tone. “What could you be up to on a boat in the middle of the ocean.”

“Oh, just, uh, some stuff I’ve found while translating the Book of Spring.” Twilight hated to lie, but she couldn’t say anything else without endangering Pinkie. It wasn’t a complete lie, as there were things from the book that Twilight would love to discuss with her cousins. She shook her head, and then, to deflect their suspicions further, asked, “Why are you doing this now?”

Celestia’s essence grew a little dimmer, more constrained. “Tyr’s is sick. Somehow the Fostering has become corrupted and is slowly consuming her essence. Or it was always corrupt, and I just refused to see it before. If something is not done to rectify my mistake, she will be destroyed.”

“An error you were warned against,” Luna huffed and extended a comforting touch. “It is not yet too late to undo the curse; and so we shall.”

“Except our plan requires you to be the one to make a sacrifice; not me.” Celestia shrugged off Luna and set about pacing in a wide, meandering circle. “You always suffer for my actions. After we awakened, at Airegos, the winter, Equestria, and on and on. I wonder if I did not cost you the stars as well.”

Luna let out a brusque laugh. “You are being unjust, Tia. I made my choices, and in no way could you have cost me the stars. Besides, I did not lose them, we gained yet more family. As with all the trials before, this too will be overcome.”

“I wish we knew the cause. The spell was cast perfectly; I know it, and there was nothing wrong until the Gala of the Stars, yet…” Celestia rolled her essence as she would her wings, the cadence of her energy dimming a few moments before returning to the crackling form. “If I had listened to the advice you and Cadence gave…”

“Could it have been Leviathan?” The question slipped from Twilight before she was fully aware it had formed, and her energy constricted at once in reproach of her error. Any hope that it would have slipped the sisters’ attention was lost by her inability to hide her worry and self recrimination, the emotions manifesting as a hissing pulse from her core.

Watching Twilight closely, Luna hummed to herself before answering. “She certainly has the power and wherewithal. But such would require her to awaken and get close to Tyr, which we’d have sensed at once.”

“Twilight…” Celestia prodded with her ‘concerned teacher’ voice. As always, it made Twilight squirm and feel even more ashamed.

A litany of possible excuses or deflections came to mind and were quickly discarded. Lying to Celestia was categorically impossible for her. Steadying herself with a non-existent breath, she muttered, “She might have paid me a visit the other day…”

“Truly?” Luna’s form trembled a little. Not with fear, anger, or even curiosity, but with excitement. “To be silent for so long, only to emerge now? I think I envy you, cousin, to be able to lay the oldest of the disc’s monsters low. How I wish we could lend you assistance. If you require us, we could be there in but a few minutes.”

Twilight began to shake her head, while Celestia mused to herself. “But, why would she reappear now?” Doubt, mixed with concern, pattered across her form like rain on hot cobblestones. “Are you certain it is truly Leviathan? There have been others that have made the same claim.”

“Fairly certain,” Twilight answered with an uncomfortable laugh. “I am on Marelantis right now.”

Luna almost pranced on the spot at Twilight’s reply. “Marelantis itself! The tales mother told of that place! If I could get my hooves on their forges for just a day…”

“Sister, this is hardly the time to indulge in fantasy,” Celestia chided softly.

“There is more.” Twilight cringed, and if her hooves hadn’t been incorporeal gaseous aether she’d have wrung them to help steady her nerves a little. “I can sense another alicorn on the island as well.”

“One of the interlopers seeking to ally with the serpent?” Luna fairly simmered with indignation, while beside her Celestia grew colder.

She constricted a little in on herself, a slight pop of doubt rippling from her core. Celestia twisted around into a knot, and then unraveled in a heavy exclamation. “No, it’s mother.”

Luna twisted around, her essence rippling with uncertainty and something Twilight did not recognise. “Mother? She is gone. Your unwillingness to accept this worries me, Tia. As does your need for her to return and shower you with praise again. We looked everywhere, and there was not a sign of her presence on the disc.”

“We never searched the bottom of the oceans. And if She is also a prisoner, that explains how Tyr’s fostering became twisted.” Celestia shook off her sister’s words with a casual ease. “Luna, you must go help Twilight. Cadence and I can resolve matters here in Sparkledale, but Twilight and mother will need help.”

“But you can’t!” Twilight snapped, a flash of exasperation making itself known in spidery, ruby lines. “I already told you; Pinkie and the others will be hurt if anypony else gets involved. Just talking to you could be too much. Who knows when dealing with the emotions of a demon. Besides, if Faust is this other alicorn—which is far from certain—then if I can find her, rescue her, then she can help me. Right? But, there is no guarantee that it is her in the first place. All we have to go on is the knowledge that I am not alone on this island.

“Furthermore, how do we know this isn’t Leviathan’s plan? Maybe she wants me to draw you to her as well. We can’t second guess ourselves, not now. This other alicorn changes nothing. We stick to the plan. If things get too dangerous, I will call for you.”

Neither Celestia nor Luna looked at all pleased with the idea, but neither did they have a response. Both were torn between the events in Equestria, and those on Marelantis. Celestia was effected the most, her practiced composure useless in her aetherial form, doubts and conflicting desires blazing across her soul.

Letting out a resigned huff, Celestia drew closer to Twilight. Almost touching, Celestia’s raw, crackling power held an altogether unnerving heat, Twilight’s own essence squirming in response. Peering deep into Twilight, Celestia said, “You must be extremely careful when dealing with mother. She is… different.”

Snorting, Luna boiled and drifted off a short ways. “She isn’t ‘different’, she is a cold hearted, manipulative, deceitful coward who tosses her family into the path of pain and hardship without a word. Everypony is just a stone to be placed on the board, maneuvered this way and that at her whim. If it is her, then how do we know she isn’t in league with the demon?”

“Because she is our mother. I have to hold onto the faith that she is good, if at times incomprehensible.” Celestia crackled in a steady pulse and drew Luna back towards her.

“Your faith in her is misplaced,” Luna sighed with resignation. “Not that I believe it to be her. There has to be another explanation.”

“Then we will find it together once our current predicaments are resolved.” Form settling, Celestia smiled, and with a slight pause to signal the end of that particular topic, asked, “Twilight, do you want our help?”

“You can’t. If you, Luna, or Iridia get involved…” Twilight gulped, unable to finish the thought. All her experience told her that Pinkie would be okay. Pinkie was Pinkie, after-all. Yet, Twilight was well aware that testing Leviathan’s warning was not wise. “I can deal with Leviathan, just like I healed Luna and stopped Discord.”

Celestia released a drawn out sigh. “Then I will trust you. In the event you require our assistance, have Polaris contact Selene or Sol and we will come immediately. It’s just as well, we have our own concerns at the moment.”

Twilight sagged in relief. Crises averted. A long, overly theatric yawn from Sol drew their attention to the distant west, hovering in perpetual dusk, while Selene’s flowering impatience to begin the night covered the east in a silver glow. Many of the stars had started to awaken as well, their lights a little hesitant on noticing that the Sun remained among them.

Nodding in agreement, Luna reached out to the east while Celestia held Sol in place. Twilight hovered in surprise when no ritual was performed, no ancient runes utilised to unravel the Nauta Anar Isilye. Luna heaved, her entire form rippling and snapping from the strain of pulling Selene into the sky, while Celestia likewise crackled brighter still with the effort of forcing Sol to remain in place.

Twilight’s eyes widened to the flare of auroras across the breadth of the disc, formed from the sundered spellwork of the ancient ponies. Pressure built in the lines, aether condensing in deep, iridescent light at weak points. Tracing the patterns of glowing sheets, Twilight could just make out the lay of the spell’s weave. It was frightening in scope and nature, massive yet subtle, reworking the very fundamental principles of the disc. Together the sisters let out a mighty cry, and across the heavens the lines snapped. Not all at once, but in a rolling cascade of fire and brilliant light that clung to the velvet darkness.

“It is done,” Luna panted as Selene rose, shimmering with uncertainty on spotting her sister just dropping to rest beneath Ioka. “This time, may it stay broken. I am not reforging that damned sigil a third time.”

Panting as well, Celestia quipped, “At least it will be simpler with Twilight and Cadence to help, if recasting it becomes necessary.”

“Why was it even created?” Twilight asked, most of her attention on fully bringing out her stars’ lights.

“Oh, a whole myriad of reasons. Keeping Selene locked into a single phase kept many doors barred, and others forced open. There are many spells as well, rituals really, that were made impossible; mostly those best not attempted.” Luna waved an airy hoof, ready to return to the disc and whatever task had precipitated the sisters’ actions.

Parting ways, with Twilight promising to take care and call on the sisters if she required help, threat or no threat, they all returned to their corporeal forms. Twilight did not return to the disc alone, Sirius and Polaris both making the journey.

‘Do you not think you’re being a tad too cavalier about the dangers Leviathan presents? Polaris seemed to fidget, making her light sputter and crackle.

Lifting her wings in a shrug, Twilight returned her focus to the door’s many locks. The puzzle of the locks was something that she could deal with far easier. Logic and methodical thought took over, blocking out the gnawing worry for Pinkie Pie alone with Leviathan.

If she allowed herself to worry after Pinkie, she wouldn’t be able to open the doors and rescue her. Naturally, in the course of things, Leviathan would be stopped in one manner or another.

Sirius and Polaris were not alone in coming to Twilight’s assistance. She pulled many stars from their places over the next half hour, asking each for advice. The Puzzlestar, the Rubixstar, the Gatestar, and the Wizardstar all provided little tidbits of advice that together filled the gaps in her own knowledge.

The Wizardstar was particularly useful, going on and on about different spell matrixes used in the Dark, Ancient, and even Lost eras. If she hadn’t been so pressed for time, Twilight could have listened to the star ramble on about this or that long forgotten method of spellwork for days, perhaps even weeks or months.

‘Yes, yes, those unicorns of the Lost era were something else! Very little understanding of runes at all, and nothing on how to put them together, just the basic manipulations of magic; yet they gave rise to all this. To Marelantis, and the greatest practitioners of magic ever seen. The leaps of understanding required! To have so much willfully destroyed, lost, or suppressed; it is a tragedy of the first order. Even our delightful cousin is so miserly with knowledge. Celestia has such a habit of hiding information away and hoarding it for herself.’ Tutting softly, the star then drifted back through Twilight’s mane and returned to the night. From there, Twilight heard, ‘When you desire, mistress, I will tell you all about the great sigils. Such feats of spellwork that could make the greatest artificers of this age blush with envy.’

Knowledge collected, Twilight took a deep breath and readied her final attempt to crack the door’s locks. Polaris took this opportunity to excuse herself and return to her proper place up in the heavens, her sisters needed her more than Twilight at that point. Twilight thanked the star for coming down to help before Polaris slipped through her mane back up into the night.

She’d just started to pull at her magic, directing it down her horn and towards the wards when Rainbow came up beside her, and asked, “What’s taking you Twilight?”

Startled, Twilight’s magic fizzled with a little hissing snap, one that echoed in the still air and down into her head. Wincing, she turned a little glare on her friend.

“I think I might have the answer now.” Rainbow nodded twice, and Twilight was about to restart her spell, but was stopped by the green pallor beneath Rainbow’s eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” Rainbow touched a hoof to her chest and put on one of her cocksure grins. “Never better. Itching to go kick that snake’s flank, that’s all.”

“You look…”

“I’m fine,” Rainbow said, a little too much force put into her words, as if she had to convince herself more than Twilight. “Just a little lingering sea-sickness.”

Twilight shook her head and frowned deeper. “No, you really look terrible. Maybe you should go back to the ship, Rainbow. If Leviathan did something to you as well—”

“I said I was fine. Sheesh, you’re as bad as my dad, sometimes,” grunted Rainbow, the vehemence and acerbic tone of her words making Twilight step back. “And don’t you even think about sneaking off alone into that place, like Daring Do in the The Sorceresses Gambit. Not after we just went over this on the ship.”

About to counter her friend’s assertion, Twilight checked herself and then let out a little laugh at her own foolishness. Frown washing away, Twilight gave Rainbow a playful nudge and a small nod before she returned her focus to the door.

Once more she gathered her magic and went to work.

Unlocking the door, now that Twilight knew just what she was doing, was unsurprisingly easy. The ancient Marelantians had made it so knowledge was more a requirement than brute force. By applying magic in the right order to key points, the door’s wards began to unbind themselves. Mechanisms from within the door itself clattered and clanked, counterweights dropping to swing the heavy barriers open.

“Right, let’s do this,” Rainbow issued the words in one of her low growls, a challenging glare leveled on the growing gloom between the doors.

She took a step past Twilight, only to come to a stop with a shocked grunt. Entire body rigid and locked, Rainbow strained to move, eye twitching and teeth clamped hard with the effort.

“Rainbow?” Twilight reached towards her friend with a wing, “What’s the matter?”

“I can’t move,” Rainbow snapped in response. She strained harder, wings a-jitter against her sides as she fought to take a single step closer to the door.

For a half-second, Twilight wondered if she’d missed something when she’d countered the wards. A device or another layer to the palaces defences. Cautiously, she took a step past Rainbow, ready for whatever defensive magic was at work to take hold, but nothing happened. Nothing leapt up to hamper her movements, and even Sirius continued to bob along at her side.

“I’m sorry Dash, I made a mistake. There must have been something I missed.” Twilight cast a spell on Rainbow to identify whatever magic was gripping her, but the spell turned up nothing. No, not nothing. Two distinct, subtle traces of magic worked to bare her entrance.

The first, and far more powerful, spread across and through Rainbow’s every sinew. Where it originated was hidden, subsumed by the magic. Twilight almost began to panic and worry that it was something Leviathan had done to Rainbow on the ship, but the magic didn’t have the characteristic bite of something harmful. Narrowing her eyes, Twilight peered harder at the flow of the energy, and found that it was very slowly pulsing as it drew on Rainbow’s own magic, and those ambient within the air.

While slightly concerning, it did lead her to the real culprit of Rainbow’s inability to step closer to the doors. Spreading down from the magical centers at the base of her wings, Rainbow was being locked in place by spider-webs of a flashing, ruby red aether. Twilight didn’t need a second to identify the spell, or the cause. It was a very typical binding spell to hold a subject in place, similar to what many guardponies learned in the bigger towns where crimes were sometimes an issue. Far more telling, was that the magic was the same as the Element of Loyalty.

“Okay, this is going to be tricky, Dash.” Twilight licked her lips as she peered closer at the magic holding her friend in place. “It looks like the Elements don’t want—”

A deep, clanking boom interrupted Twilight, preceding a long groan as the doors to the palace began their slow, inexorable closing. Darting a look at the doors, Twilight reached out with her aura to hold them open, only for her telekinesis to slip off them. Changing tactics, Twilight instead went to pick up Rainbow and carry her inside, only for the Element’s magic to flare and drive back Twilight’s attempt.

Darting a look between her friend and the door a few times, her mind raced through a dozen different options and discarded them all. Had she time, Twilight was certain that a solution would present itself.

“I’m sorry!” Twilight said before darting through the doors, calling back as she did, “I’ll find Pinkie! I promise.”

There was only a moment to look back and see Rainbow staring after her with pained resignation. “Hey, You better kick that snake’s flank for me!”, Rainbow shouted just as Twilight slipped between the doors and they slammed shut, the hundred locks within spinning and clanking as the ward re-activated.

To Twilight’s relief, she wasn’t subsumed in darkness the moment the doors slammed shut at her tail. Streams of haphazard light bubbled through the windows and skylights, what little could find its way through the shroud of filth on the palace exterior. A quick look around gave no evidence of water ever having entered the palace.

Whether it was from some spell of the Marelantians, or Leviathan herself, the palace was almost as it had been the day the city had been destroyed, touched only by the slow withering breath of time. Broken mosaics, of such faded beauty that she felt her breath catch in her throat, greeted Twilight. Heraldic tapestries on silk so fine that the still shimmered as they settled from the breeze created by Twilight’s entrance hung down the five massive columns holding the roof aloft.

Warm golden light spilled from Sirius, giving everything a soft, wonderful glow as they slowly trotted the room. ‘Mistress, you should not go alone,’ Sirius said as she float before Twilight.

For her part, Twilight frowned and gave the star a death-glare.

“You, little lady, should have gone back home with your sisters. I can’t risk you, or any of the others. Not when Leviathan can steal you from me.” She made to grab the star, but, like in Canterlot before, Sirius darted away.

‘No. I am not a foal to be matronized or protected. I am your Firestar, and my sisters need us. I will not abandon them.’ Sirius burned brighter, turning a reddish-orange tinge that gave their surroundings a hellish, foreboding air.

Seeing that arguing was pointless, Twilight released a resigned grunt and then indicated that Sirius should follow.

Little was said between them as they went deeper into the palace. Ghosts hung thick in the air, every wall home to mosaics made of glittering gemstones held in brittle mortar and barren planters, sitting in little nooks set into the walls. Twilight could have admired the scenes for years, each done in a sweeping style she’d never before seen. There was a vague similarity to some of the Thuelesian artifacts Twilight had seen in museums. Those urns and wall fragments had been haunting, sadness lingering in the stone and history they only partially preserved. Even those seemed more like imitations of a memory pulled from a dream compared to the majesty emanating from the walls.

Then the mosaics began to move, their surfaces a fluid dance that stole Twilight’s breath away. Rooted to the spot, she twisted this way and that trying to catch everything at once. Each stylised play showed Marelantis’ history, or stories and legends of note. The lost city’s myths played before her eyes in a dazzling display, and she needed to see them all.

Glued to the scenes, her attention was held firm not just by the scholastic wonder they invoked—the history that could have been recovered!—but as with the palace doors, the spell-work involved was beyond current understanding.

If modern Equestrian enchantment techniques were akin to the crafting of gears in a clock, each spinning and working together to create a greater whole or effect, then the Marelantian enchantments were like the clock’s bells, each shaped and molded to create a single effect. The size, quality, and purity of those bells, however, were unlike anything Twilight had thought possible.

The nearest comparison Twilight could conjure was Canterlot Castle taken as an aggregate whole. If she discounted the haphazard, clunky nature of the castle’s myriad layers of wards and enchantments, and put aside that what she was seeing was a single, beautifully crafted enchantment, rather than a thousand working in concert. Or that she couldn’t begin to detect the usual base-frame-cap structuring.

So, nothing like the castle, in retrospect.

Twilight tilted her head and stared harder at the murals as they began to repeat for the second time. For a single enchantment, on its own, to create the murals defied conception.

“What the professors at Celestia’s School would do for five minutes examining this,” Twilight whispered with a little chuckle. “Or Rarity. She would adore this.”

It wasn’t a lack of complexity to Equestrian enchantments. Defensive wards, in particular, could be highly involved and intricate, with redundancies and false runes creating traps for would-be attackers. What was laid before her, however, was true artistry of a sort that defied all previous notions of what was possible with magic. Were she a musician, it would be like writing simple lullabies all her life, and then hearing for the first time a symphony.

In retrospect, the palace doors had been far closer to modern spellcasting, with hundreds of wards acting in concert. The runes in the doors were easy to spot, as were their positions within the enchantment’s structure. At the core were the base, from which the frame radiated, and then was capped at the extremities. Here, Twilight had trouble discerning one rune from the next, so that they blended together to form a single, monolithic rune of sorts.

“Which way did they go? Have we rediscovered their methods, linking spells together, or do those doors represent the old, and this their later works?” Twilight ran a hoof along the murals, and was surprised as a tingle worked its way through her frog and up her leg. Not an unpleasant tingle, and certainly nothing that struck her as dangerous, rather the sort of sensation Twilight got whenever she was about to open a book for the first time.

Responding to her touch, the murals changed, began to show mages in their towers, pouring over stacks of books and crafting new spells in their chambers or wandering through twisted woods while a dark figure flitted by overhead. Twilight’s eyes widened, a little gasp escaping her lips. Her own life swam into being, formed into sweeping and grand displays identical in style to those before. Already it had reached Discord sitting on a twisted throne with a glass of—presumably—chocolate milk in one claw and a scepter in the other. It moved onto the battle with the changelings, depicting the events with her central, but as a guiding figure above Cadence, Shining, and the battle, rather than as the defining player. From there, the mural took a shape that was Twilight alone, wreathed in her stars with her eyes closed and wings spread wide. Other ponies began to appear along the bottom edge, heads turned up and hooves clasped in prayers.

Then the mural restarted it’s displays from, Twilight conjectured, the very start of Marelantis’ history.

“It added me to it’s history?” Twilight looked down at her hoof in surprise. “That’s amazing! How is did it manage that? The variables, the sheer fact that it’s making stylized images of my past, and choosing how to display them… Is the mural alive? No, a single enchantment can’t gain semi-sentience regardless of how powerful it may be. There isn’t the number of enchantments in this area for their energies to bleed together enough for the area to gain a will of its own.”

Just to be certain, Twilight scanned the hallway again, coming up only with the illumination spells and the murals. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she refocused on the murals.

“Unless that is the point of this spell’s structure. Could they have been making their spells actually aware? That’s impossible… Isn’t it? I wish I had time to really examine this place.”

It took considerable force of will, and a stern self-reminder about Pinkie and her stars being in danger, to pry herself away from the mural. Casting a last, whimsical look over her withers at the shimmering walls, Twilight followed the trail.

Mistress… Do you make a habit of talking to yourself? There was a note of amusement to Sirius’ question, the star floating along beside Twilight as they headed down the lit passage.

“Not often. Sometimes. Only when I’m stressed. Or… Okay, yes, I talk to myself.” Twilight sent the star a sour look.

The murals were not the only relics left in pristine condition by the long roll of the ages. Everything within the palace was amazingly well preserved, especially compared to the desolation on the surface.There wasn’t a speck of dust to be seen. Even the air was clean, carrying a slight scent of some ancient, extinct flower with a hint of incense. The finest army of maids could not have created such spotless perfection. Enchanted crystals embedded in the walls or overhead cast light without the smoke of torches. It all came together to make Twilight’s mane prickle.

Every now and then she came to an abrupt stop. Somewhere in the shadows there were eyes watching her and Sirius. Sometimes the sensation came from behind, other times it lingered ahead, hidden beyond shadows dancing at the edge of her star’s light. But there was no sound of hooves, paws, or feet that could belong to something following the pair.

Deeper and deeper into the palace, they marched, the pull of stolen stars drawing Twilight onward. Her pace hastened as she drew nearer, quickening until she was galloping breathlessly. They were so close, just around every bend, and when they weren’t, the pull was that much stronger that surely the next corner would reveal her stars.

A final bend brought them to a simple, round door made of balsa wood. Beyond it, Twilight was certain, were her stars, Leviathan, and the unknown alicorn. An old ward, faded and worn, was carved into the very center of the door. From its dull lustre and utter lack of aether either in the wood or the runes themselves, the ward had been broken a long, long time ago. Finding the cause of the break was easy enough, half the runes that made up the ward’s glyph were charred and scratched out by a single, long claw mark.

As with all the other spells Twilight had seen in the palace, the ward had once been impressive, and far different from anything Equestria was capable of producing. A shame it was damaged beyond repair or even basic study.

Turning her attention away from the broken ward, Twilight found a slight problem with the door’s design; there was no latch or lever with which to open it. Even the hinges were hidden or missing. Leaning forward to see if there was any way to open the door, Twilight was surprised to find a scent wafting through the wood.

“Basil?”

At the word, there was a click from beyond the door, and then it slid soundlessly out of Twilight’s path.

On the other side was Leviathan.

In her pony form.

Smiling.

And wearing an apron covered in red stains and the phrase ‘Envy is thin because it bites but never eats’ emblazoned across the front in bold, green letters.

“About time, I was beginning to wonder if my court hadn’t gotten to you. Better late I suppose.” The demon’s fangs glinted in the light splashing through the door. “Come in, come in. I do insist.”

Swallowing a retort, Twilight stepped through the door, wings slightly splayed for a fight and Sirius just above her head.

Leviathan’s inner sanctum. The number of beings who’d set hoof in the place were few, the amount that had left alive fewer still. In ages past, poets and philosophers had debated on the nature of Leviathan’s den. Whether it would be a place of despair and loathing, or a frightful palace of bone and eternal night. Some claimed it to be a sweeping plane of green fire and choking, poisonous vapors. Still others painted a sunken temple in the darkest reaches of the ocean.

It turned out to be a mess.

A complete and total pig sty.

Twilight’s mouth fell open as she stood just inside the open door, eyes wide, staring out at what she could only charitably describe as a dump. It was as if half the museum’s in Equestria had taken all their pieces and artifacts, and tossed them into a warehouse without any thought.

Bits of armour from a dozen eras, in three times as many styles, were scattered across the floor. Swords, spears, and shields strewn here and there, forming rolling heaps of blade and plate. Some were semi-organised stacks, but most were only in vague lumps. Stacks of faded newspapers or mounds of gemstones acted as walls between sections of the room. Statues and busts of ancient ponies, griffons, and dragons abounded in one alcove, while the next over was a semi-clear living area with three couches around a tea table, all overflowing with empty cartons of neighponese take-out and grease stained pizza boxes. Above the table, suspended by cords of rope, chain, and bits of coloured string, were painted skulls of everything from equines to a great dragon. Another dragon skull had been turned into a wardrobe, the doors impossible to open for the clothes piled up in front. Over in another area were crates of silks enough to make a hundred dresses. One side of the chamber—Twilight was fairly certain at one time the room had been circular in nature from the curve of the walls as they met on the ceiling to form a dome—stood an entire unicorn galley from the pre-classical period, complete with oars and masts knocked down and placed across the deck.

The south side of the room was more open, pathways through the junk leading to different areas, or perhaps ‘rooms’. Screens were erected as dividers between a couple beds, another open space holding an ornate Stones board, complete with pieces arrayed as if in the middle of a game. The final area was home to a kitchenette and a table formed of a flattened oak stump.

It was from the kitchen that the smell of basil originated, a large pot of some bubbling sauce, spitting above an open flame on a four hundred year old stove.

Trotting briskly along the aisle, Leviathan hurried to the stove.

“Dinner should not be long. You do like spicy Roamen, yes? It’s about all I know how to cook. Faust tried teaching me some classical Thuelesian dishes a few centuries back. I found her use of poison toad extract a little cheeky though. Oh, here I am babbling away! Can I offer you anything?” Leviathan glanced over her wings to where Twilight stood dumbfounded just inside the room. “I have wine, brandy, gin, whisky, rum, and several different ciders,” the ancient demon queen, one of the seven most powerful evils in the cosmos, looked around her home at a loss, “… somewhere…”

Twilight found words hard to come by, her mouth working silently.

Of all the scenarios Twilight might have anticipated, this… none of it… she didn’t…

“W-What is going on?” Twilight shouted after a full minute of gaping at the complete disarray surrounding her.

“I don’t understand the question,” Leviathan replied with a click of her tongue. “I know it’s a little late for dinner, but you were rather slow getting past the outer door, then you spent ages staring at the murals or lost in the upper-levels…”

“No!” Twilight stamped a hoof, causing a small rockslide in a nearby gem pile. “What I mean is… aren’t we supposed to fight or something? That’s how this has always gone before!”

“Oh, there will be time for all that later.” A dismissive wing waved away Twilight’s question. “All the pieces aren’t in place yet. No, the monologuing and ‘You’ll never get away with this!’ and ‘Soon, my vengeance will be complete!’ and the rest of that nonsense will come later, don’t worry. Plenty of time to get to know each other before you try to rip out my throat, I think.”

Leviathan hummed as she stirred the sauce and poured some noodles into another pot.

Unsure what else to do—Twilight didn’t think that she could just attack Leviathan… could she?—she went to one of the chairs at the table. “Where is Pinkie?” she asked as she sat down.

“Around. I believe she used one of my portals to get some fresh coriander and cake for dessert.”

Twilight had to rub her head, an ache starting to form just behind her ears.

“You mean she’s free? You let her go?”

Leviathan chortled as she left the stove to join Twilight at the table. “Yes. She’s served her purpose… mostly. Tomorrow I’ll hold her ransom while we have our little show down. Bisquit?”

A plate of butter cookies and chocolate covered crackers were presented to Twilight. After staring at the plate for a bit, she took a stick of shortbread. She did not eat it, rather inspected it closer while she groaned, “I am so confused right now. I should just… I don’t know…”

“Attack me?” Leviathan supplied. “But, what have I done to deserve such treatment?!” She pressed a hoof in faux-shock to her chest.

Twilight glared at the mocking tone in Leviathan’s laugh. “Oh, I don’t know; kidnapped one of my best friends? Stole three stars? Hurt my guards? Threatened everypony?”

Her laugh growing louder, more natural, Leviathan snatched up a couple crackers, and around them said, “Pah, a typical Monday.”

‘You stay true to your principles, mistress,’ Sirius seemed to shrug, and hover closer to Twilight’s horn. ‘This is all certainly part of her game. But if you just attacked her you would regret it, no matter the outcome. No, you have to make certain to give your enemies every chance to repent and correct their ways. That is just who you are.’

Sirius was correct. For all Leviathan had already done, it wasn’t within Twilight to attack without cause and evidence that such action was her last remaining recourse. “Traitor,” Twilight huffed, Sirius taking a hurt, blue colour in response. “So, what now? You seem to have this all planned out.”

“I told you—”

“I’mmmm back!” Boxes perched on her head, Pinkie popped up with her signature grin behind Leviathan. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted the chocolate double glazed fritters, or double chocolate glazed fritters; so I got both! And the lemon filled maragnes, some strawberry strudels, a coconut pie, tiramisu, and, of course, a Black Forest cake. Also cream puffs, Nanaimo bars, and some peanut butter crumble.”

With each name Pinkie spread the corresponding desert out on the table until it was heaped higher than Twilight’s horn with sugary treats. No sooner was she done emptying her seemingly bottomless box then Pinkie was in the kitchen stirring the pot of simmering sauce, sprinkling the coriander in with a happy swish of her tail.

Twilight spent the time waiting for dinner studiously not looking at Leviathan and instead focused on Pinkie. There was something off about her friend, like Pinkie’s smile was just ever so slightly forced, and the skip in her step was hesitant. When Pinkie thought Twilight wasn’t looking the veneer would slip a little, and she’d dart a furtive glance upwards and catch her lower lip between her teeth.

“What did you do to Pinkie?” Twilight demanded as the food—a wonderful smelling pasta dish with a thick sauce liberally spread atop—was served.

“Silly, she didn’t do anything to me,” Pinkie laughed, but the sound was fake. Her ears drooped a little on seeing the suspicious look Twilight gave her. “I’m just worried about a whole lot of ponies.”

“Of course you are; you have a good heart.” Leviathan reached over and patted Pinkie on the shoulders before demanding, “Pass me the salt, Twilight. But you shouldn’t worry so much Pinkamena. You mortals were created to die. It’s all a matter of the ‘how’ and ‘when’.”

All thought of conversation died with this, and the meal grew sullen and miserable. Leviathan did not seem to notice, the way she happily told one sided stories of this and that. Twilight tuned Leviathan out and instead focused on locating her stars. If she retrieved them, she could teleport herself and Pinkie back to the ship.

Then what though? Leviathan would just chase them and more ponies would be put in danger.

Grumbling to herself, Twilight pushed a tomato around her plate.

Even if she didn’t return to the Bellerophon, that was the most likely place for Leviathan to look, and Rainbow was with the ship.

Back and forth, around and around, Twilight went with her thoughts, never able to find a decisive conclusion to her problem. Leviathan was the villain. The villain needed to be stopped, and/or reformed. The villain wasn’t acting especially villainous. She was even being accommodating and, Twilight hated to admit it, if it wasn’t for taking Pinkie and her stars, she’d have been enjoying the novelty of the evening. Even the conversation would have been… entertaining. Leviathan was putting out a fine flow of divergent topics, giving anecdotes from prehistory, various adventures, and encounters with famous individuals. Even the jokes weren’t terrible, never realizing—or choosing to ignore—the morose cloud hanging over the table.

It rankled Twilight deeply.

“Well, this has been a delightful reprieve, don’t you agree?” Leviathan dabbed at her lips with an embroidered silk hoofkerchief after Pinkie cleared away the deserts. “I had a bed prepared for you, since we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow, and you’ll want to be well rested for what is coming.”

“And what is coming?”

“Just a little game.”

The grin Leviathan wore was one that could only be called enthusiastically frightening. “This is going to be so much fun! You’ll see, Twilight Abigail Sparkle Tuilerya, Goddess of Stars and Wishes, the Third Shepherd, Princess of the Taiga, Countess of the Everfree; Oh, saying your titles gives me tingles. Perhaps I’ve found a worthy opponent again.”

For the first time in forever, sleep did not come easily to Twilight.

It was an understandable state, what with the mounting worries for her friends, Leviathan’s plans, the fuzzy murmurs she could only just make out from her stars, Pinkie’s regression in sullen, forced happiness. Twilight couldn’t shake the sense that she should have confronted Leviathan at once and finished the fight.

At the same time, she couldn’t shake the final moments of dinner, and the happiness that had been flitting like a lost, uncertain puppy behind Leviathan’s big, emerald eyes.

A quick check of her internal chronometer told her that it was only a few minutes until dawn. She hoped Polaris would be able to wrangle the stars into sleep without her. Whatever the spells or materials worked throughout the palace, they did a far too effective job dulling her connection to her stars.

The feeling was odd, to say the least, and she squirmed some more beneath the centuries old and mildew covered quilt. Calming herself, she detached spirit from body and attempted to float up to the heavens. She received a nasty shock on reaching the domed ceiling, sparks shooting out where she’d tried to pass through the stone. From somewhere far off through the clutter Twilight heard Leviathan snort in her sleep, followed by a heavy thud as she presumably rolled out of bed.

Cringing, Twilight hovered slowly back to her body, ludicrously afraid to wake the demon queen.

Fed up with waiting, and since there were no explicit rules saying she had to stay in bed when in the lair of a colossal demonic serpent that ate islands, she pushed herself out of bed. In fact, it seemed rather stupid not to do some poking around while she had the opportunity. Who knew what she could find that might tip the balance in her favour.

A yawn from behind Twilight’s ear reminded her of Sirius. She didn’t debate whether to leave the star behind or not; and instead moved her deeper into her mane. There Sirius was as safe as could possibly be on the disc.

First on Twilight’s list of mysteries to solve was to find other alicorn. She’d grown almost certain that Celestia’s guess that it was Faust to be correct. A small part of her held out, however, wondering if she wasn’t being misled. It wasn’t impossible Leviathan had captured one of Tyr’s relatives from Gaea. Who, however, Twilight could not decide. To the best of her knowledge there was one somewhere in the east, another could have been anywhere on the disc, and then there were the remaining shades. A shiver worked its way up Twilight’s back at the memory of the thing that had attacked her back in Ponyville.

She tried not to dwell on the cold touch and dread instilled during that encounter. The shade had tried to leach magic from her, to take her stars. To take them… back?

Twilight pinched her brow at the fleeting thought and turned down into a section filled with ancient scrolls and rolled up tapestries. At the far end a set of narrow steps ascended to a hole cut into the side of the galley.

“Take them back… She can’t take them back, they’re mine. They’ve always been mine.” Twilight huffed to herself as she slipped slowly into the galley, boards groaning underhoof.

Nopony could separate her stars from her. Even the ones Leviathan had stolen weren’t truly gone, just caged. Twilight could still feel them, along with hundreds of others that were not in the heavens but on the disc.

Slowing, she picked her way through the galley, past where earth ponies would have been made to row in ages past. The benches on which they sat were now home to bins of yarn, knitting needles, and rolled up carpets, all labeled and categorized by size, colour, and material. She hardly made note of the way everything had been ordered and neatly placed in stark contrast to the chaos outside the ship.

Yes, there were others. Many others. With the stars in the heavens dulled, Twilight could detect those that had fallen with something… not exactly clarity, but notice them among the other stars. She’d been aware for some time that stars fell, from time to time. It was how she was supposed to grant wishes, afterall. Still, being able to sense the fallen stars came as a bit of a surprise.

Just to be certain she stopped her wandering, closed her eyes and sorted through the thousands of connections she possessed. Dimmed by the palace wards, it was easy to sort through the ‘proper’ stars and find the connections that were damaged or faded.

Touching a cord gave her a muted song, and in that song knowledge of every aspect the star. Everything was laid bare to Twilight, who she’d been, her hopes, dreams, and fears, even her memories. The first she touched, because it was a thorny strand of cracked obsidian glass, belonged to a star named Algol. Cruelty was found in equal measure with honour, and a shattered heart. Algol was a star that fell because she’d fallen in love, but had been rejected. Worse, betrayed. Captured and sold as a slave, broken and made to wage war on ponies.

Twilight withdrew from the connection, her thoughts numb and a part of her crawling like she’d been reading somepony else's journal. Centuries of memories, or the impressions of memories, lay waiting within the fractured strand. The final one Twilight had sensed, just as she broke the touch, was of Algol’s final moments, and the relief the star had felt to at last descend into oblivion and to know nothingness.

Trying to shake of the melancholy that threatened to prowl at the edges of her mind after touching the bitterness of Algol’s memories, Twilight reached out for the closest, most lively strand available.

She expected good memories, warmth and joy. With the vibrancy of the strand, and given the damage to the first one she’d touched, it seemed a logical conclusion.

Instead Twilight was struck by cold, and fear, and pain. Her body ached from running, and bruises formed along her flanks and shoulders where she’d been hit by… something. A big something that was stalking her and…

A stab of worry pierced Twilight to the quick.

Unlike Algol, this star was still alive, somewhere, and in danger. She was running through a wood or forest. There was a filly next to her; dark silvery-grey, with a two toned mane of white and black. In the distance an old castle appeared like a hulking monster out of the gloom. She didn’t slow, altering direction at once, heading towards the castle.

Scrunching her eyes up more, Twilight probed the connection. She could see her own magic in the cord, but also magic that was not her own. Unlike with the stars, there was no doubt that it was foreign in nature. None of the usual ‘hers and not-hers’ at the same time.

She needed the star’s name. Twilight could sense it there, hovering just in front of her nose, waiting to be acknowledged. A little push was all it took.

“Trixie?” Twilight yelped, losing her grasp on the cord, eyes flung open, and stumbled backwards into the galley’s main cabin.

There was no time to ponder why she had a connection binding her to her one-time sort-of-nemesis. Nor why magic seemed to be flowing along it from her towards Trixie. She wished she could analyze why she was able to get Trixie’s thoughts, and even what she was seeing and hearing.

Unfortunately, Twilight had found the missing alicorn, and she was distracted from pursuing the issue any further. In a deep sleep, Faust laid on a circular bed, rust red mane draped casually down her neck and wings, head resting on silk pillows. A few strands of light ghosted between threadbare curtains onto her stretched out wings, and played across her pointed chin. Twilight had found Faust, her aunt, and she was currently being used as a pillow by a sprawled out Leviathan.

Twilight didn’t know whether to beat a hasty retreat or to shout and wake the pair. Her entire being recoiled at the thought of the venerated Namegiver sharing a bed with Leviathan.

Another part of her squirmed, overcome with a sense of intruding in a place she should not have gone. The room had a warm, earthy sense about it. Beside the bed stood a ponyquin with a dress laid out on it. From the high, opal ruff to the rich red silk fold and scroll casing hanging over the left side, Twilight guessed it to have been from the pre-classical period. It was also a dress favoured among artist depicting Faust during her last few years among ponykind. Further along stood boxes of jewelry, vials of perfume, and a partially open wardrobe through which Twilight spotted a dressing gown on a hanger. Even Faust’s peytral was present, and everypony knew she’d stopped wearing it following the collapse of Thuelesia.

That tiny, decent part of herself was silenced by a surge of ire as her eyes fell on a birdcage sitting in a corner. Within the cage, their lights dim and flickering, hung her stolen stars.

Twilight took a hurried step towards her stars. Beneath her the floorboards creaked, and Leviathan’s eyes shot open.

“What are you doing?” The demand was spoken in a menacing softness, one heightened by Leviathan slowly pushing herself up and over Faust in a protective stance. Descending from the bed, Leviathan stretched out her wings to form a barrier between Twilight and Faust. “Don’t you have any common decency? Walking into another being’s room like you own the place. If I didn’t have plans for today, I’d rip out your throat for this invasion of privacy.”

“Me? I want my stars back, and I want to know why Faust is here!” Twilight countered, her indignation overcoming her embarrassment. The limits of her patience well past breaking, Twilight pulled together the beginning of a spell. No sooner had the first two ruins been joined than the burgeoning matrix cracked, the pieces tumbling in motes from the tip of her horn.

A pleased smirk pinched the corners of Leviathan’s eyes as Twilight took a hesitant step backwards, her mind fumbling over what had just happened. “I’m surprised you’re just trying a spell now,” Leviathan snorted, picking up the cage with Twilight’s stars and moving them next to the bed. “Before you ask; no, I have not done anything to your magic. It is merely an effect of the design of my home. Within this place magic answers to me alone.”

Twilight set her withers and swallowed the retorts that leapt to her tongue to counter Leviathan’s boast. Mind racing towards possible ways arround whatever was impacting her spellcasting, she indicated the bed with a sharp glare. “Has she been in league with you all these years?”

Surprise mingled with disdain flashed across Leviathan’s face, twisting her lips up into a cruel sneer.

“Ha! In league? Faust? Are you so foolish?” Stamping a hoof, Leviathan made the galley tremble with her foul humour. Her lips twitched into a smile, the same one she’d worn following dinner. “I see no sense in hiding it now. Yes, she is ‘in league’ with me, though not in the manner you think.”

“Don’t presume to know what I’m thinking,” Twilight growled back, falling into an aggressive stance.

“And don’t presume that I am the villain!” Leviathan countered in a bellow, rattling the galley. “You aethyr, gods, alicorns—whatever you call yourselves this century—you always make the rest of us out as the bad ones who ruined the Far Realms. The quus with their primordial chaos. The archons with their self-righteous, domineering benevolence. And you lot, trying to make everything fit neatly into your little boxes. Say what you will about demon-kind; we didn’t have to help you with the quus, but we did. It was the alicorns who committed the first betrayal. The beings of perfect order betrayed those of the egoism. The irony was not lost on us the eons we rotted beneath Tartarus.

“I am Envy, Twilight Sparkle, and I am not the villain.”

Leviathan began to pace as her rant grew in volume. Her wings continually snapped in and out, her teeth clacked with every few words, and her tail sliced the air with enough force to crack like a whip at each turn. Behind the angry demon, Faust didn’t so much as stir.

“I’ve tried to be amenable. To be friendly. I could have killed all those mortals on the ship. I could kill them still. Some of them have already died this night, others this moment, and more will this day. But, such is the price for ignoring the very strong warning posted right in front of their noses. Do you blame the wolf for attacking when you stumble into it’s lair and stomp around next to her pups?”

“What do you mean, ‘have died’?” Twilight asked in a breathless rush, her heart twisting with worry for Rainbow and the others. “What have you done?”

Ceasing her pacing, Leviathan let out a snort. “Me? Nothing, except allow it to happen.” Waving a hoof up towards the roof, she said, “You did that when you improperly opened the doors and woke the city’s defenders. The ancient Marelantians jealously guard their secrets even now. Not that they are their secrets to keep, everything they learned gleaned from my brothers, sister, and I. They were to be the means for our escape, but the others are too narrow minded. If they are allowed freedom whole worlds will burn.”

Panic rising, Twilight started for the door, only to be called to stop.

“Return to them now, and I will keep all I have taken,” Leviathan said spoke with a playful bounce, one that maintained only a hint of the anger she’d radiated moments before. “Your three stars and Pinkie will be forfeit. It is a little early for the game to start, but since you are so eager, who am I to deny?” Coming up to Twilight, she laid a wing over her withers, and in a voice like silk dipped in an adder’s venom, asked, “Tell me, Twilight, what do you possess that I should envy?”

She wanted to kick Leviathan, or rush to her friends’ aid. Yet, a portion of her said that the best way to help was to deal with Leviathan civilly. If it meant playing along for a little while, then so be it.

Twilight considered the question only a few moments. Her first guess was her stars. Leviathan had stolen three and kept them caged. But, Leviathan’s interest in them seemed only as tools to draw Twilight into her lair. The demon hardly acknowledged Sirius’ presence, and by rights she should covet the Firestar above the others as it was the most powerful Twilight possessed.

No, the answer wasn’t something physical in nature.

“My friends,” Twilight finally decided. “You envy my friendships.”

Leviathan returned Twilight’s answer with a flat stare and broke away to march up to the bed with Faust.

Spinning back towards Twilight, she slashed the air with a wing and a snort. “Really? That is your answer? ‘Friendship’? Friendship is nothing. A mere shadow. I may have given you some credence if you’d said ‘Love’. Now, there is a powerful force! But friendship? Pah. It is a mere transitory state, fleeting and easily cast aside, smothered, or crushed.”

“Oh, really?” Twilight put on her best ‘I have you’ smile. “What of the friendships I have with Pinkie, Rainbow, and the others? What of the Elements of Harmony? Our friendship has saved Eque—”

“You poor, naive thing.” Leviathan cut Twilight off with a pronounced sigh, hoof lifted up to rub the bridge of her muzzle. “What you have with them is not friendship.”

“Of course it is friendship!”

“It is not. They are your sisters. Not by blood, but by choice, and that makes it all a more potent love.”

“But… Friendship is Magic!”

“If I ever encounter the mare that come up with that insipid phrase I am going to eat her…” Leviathan growled to herself. “No, Love is Magic, friendship is merely a transitional familiarity bred through interaction and shared interests. But friends can be discarded. They fade and wither and the hole left behind will be filled by new friends. But those you love? Those that transcend beyond mere friendship? Long after they are gone you will lay awake and stare up at your stars and remember them. Their betrayals will cut deepest, and their smiles will be the most heartening.”

“You’re being pedantic about terminology now.”

Again came Leviathan’s flat stare.

“And you’re one to talk about being pedantic with terms, Miss ‘I am a scientist’.” Leviathan flopped down onto a cushion next to the sleeping form of Faust. “There is a reason why the translation of the old knightly orders is ‘sisterhood’ rather than ‘friends’ or ‘pals’ or something similar. Ask Cadence when you return to Canterlot, she’ll confirm that you love your so-called friends.”

With the gentlest caress of her hoof, Leviathan brushed back Faust’s mane so as to allow her to lay a kiss upon the sleeping goddess’ brow. Twilight cringed, and it took all her remaining control not to leap forward. Every fibre of her being screamed against the sight before her.

“Once, before the first grains fell within the hourglass of time, when all was as dreams and thought was the brush that painted reality, I had found a sister in the most unlikely of places. Side by side we brought war to the greatest of foes, and I have never been happier nor more complete than in that moment. As all things before the birth of the Second Realm, it lasted only the sweetest instant, and for a hundred eternities.”

Leviathan looked up from Faust, and Twilight was shocked to see tears forming poisoned green shards upon her cheek.

“She was wrenched from me, and then all my kind were betrayed by the alicorns. Your mother stole Faust, casting them both to the void rather than have her be sullied further by our love. For a time uncounted I waited, plotting within the prison your kind constructed for mine. Through the cracks I sent agents, until they came upon this pitiful world, and I knew the time of my reunion with Faust was at last come. And when I found her, when I tore my way from Tartarus and rose up in all my glory before her; I found she had forgotten me. She had cast aside all that she’d been and knew, taken a frail, mortal shell, leaving her grandeur faded and sullied.”

A long, weary sigh rolled from the demon before she said in resignation, “I will not allow you to steal her from me as your mother has done once already, just as you can not leave her here with me.” Pushing herself upwards, Leviathan used a wing to guide Twilight towards the living area. At the same time she picked up the cage with Twilight’s stars, holding them on her far side as she walked. “Come, I have something to show you, something you’ll find rather interesting I think. The time has arrived to raise the curtains on our little game.”

The moved in silence, Twilight debating what would happen if she tried to fire a spell at Leviathan. On entering the main living space, magic lit along the demon’s horns in sickly flames that were like talons being dragged down Twilight’s own senses. Before them appeared four shimmering, silver disc, their faces rippling like the surface of a disturbed pond.

As each began to calm they gained clarity, opening windows onto distant scenes.

The leftern most showed Rainbow, mane bedraggled with sweat and blood, her posture one of profound weariness and exhaustion. She took long, laboured breaths and, with a hoof, wiped at her eyes.

On the next window was a wooded area, and from the gnarled trees, clinging fog, and mountains in the distance just being lit by the coming dawn, it had to be the Everfree. Rarity was there, stumbling back, a crevice behind her. Silent words were spoken to somepony, or something. A pained expression twisted her friend’s face, Rarity rocking from side to side and giving her head a determined shake.

Between this window and the last was an image Twilight knew well, as it was the grounds of Sparkle Manor. She could see her entire family, old and new, along with a few other ponies. Velvet stood with princesses Celestia, Luna, and Cadence, as well as Revered Speaker Blessed Harmony. Arrayed around the five were Twilight’s foster sisters and brothers, the manor’s servants, the princesses’ guards, several Sisters of Names, and Iridia. All of the assembled ponies stood around Tyr, the filly placed at the heart of what looked like a casting array.

Another grim sight awaited Twilight on the final window, this one showing her Trixie and the dark silver filly she’d seen just before finding Faust. They were in the castle now, both darting looks into the shadows. It was from one such shadow that a face emerged that Twilight could not identify. A white halla, Twilight assumed from the antlers and snippets she’d read of the race. Trixie and the filly relaxed on seeing the halla, then all three jumped at something not shown, the adults both calling on their magic.

She knew of the spell, learning of it from one of her mother’s diaries. A Seer’s Window; but that could not be right. The spell was meant to only be able to peer into the caster’s own memories. These were clearly showing events as they were happening.

“So, who shall it be first?” Leviathan purred from her spot. “The friends and faithful you lead into danger? Perhaps those you abandoned in Ponyville? Or the family who raised you, guided you into becoming the noble mare who thinks nothing of challenging gods and demons? Or maybe the trickster?”

“What are you going on about?” Twilight demanded, turning her back on the windows with a stamp of her hoof that sent cascades of jewels and flotsam tumbling from the piles of junk.

“Why, within which mirror will somepony important to you die first, of course.” Before Twilight could react, Leviathan continued in her playfully threatening tone. “Here is the game; in each ponies dear to you are in mortal peril. You are free to go racing off to help any you so chose. Do so, however, and I will keep one of the things I have taken from you. Your stars, Pinkie, so on and so forth.” Leviathan waited long enough for the cold dread of her threat to mingle with a burning hatred in the pit of Twilight stomach. “For each that runs its course without your leaving, I will gladly return one of the things I took. Should you stay for them all, why, I’ll even apologize for my wicked ways and promise not to bother you, those you love, or any pony for that matter for… say… a century.

“So, is it a deal?”

Author's Note

This chapter has been a nightmare to write. Not because it was all that difficult to find words. And there were only a couple, short instances of writers block. No, I've just been terrified of readers reactions and so I kept putting it off, or juggling sections. Several times I thought I'd 'locked down' the chapter, only to push as much as seven thousand words elsewhere and find a replacement.

A side effect of this is that Chapter 16 has effectively gone through two rounds of editing already, and only has a short segment to complete before it too is publishable. Or, it too could get broken up and its components strewn across two or three chapters.

I've been anxious before when publishing a chapter or story. Every time, in fact. But this chapter, and the next few, they fill me with a sickly, knotted dread. Sitting on the chapter longer wont help, and it wont make me feel better.

I just hope that the chapter is enjoyable.

Book Two: Chapter Eleven: Sweetie Belle and the Tower of Lemarea

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duty and Dreams
Chapter Eleven: Sweetie Belle and the Tower of Lemarea

“Ever feel like you suddenly shifted stories?” Apple Bloom’s voice echoed in the narrow stone passageway, a concerned note to her country twang.

Slowing her long, impatient strides, Sweetie shot her friend a quizzical look. It was the first reaction she’d given since the four fillies entered Thornhaven’s ‘dungeons’.

To call the castle’s depths a dungeon was a gross exaggeration of the word beyond even the Crusaders’ prodigious imaginations. There was an appalling lack of straw strewn cells, rusted chains hanging from walls, and fat wardens playing dice in a windowless room. No torture chambers existed, with implements covered in dried blood, iron maidens waiting to be used, and racks with leather straps and iron buckles. Instead, there were a series of storage rooms stuffed to the vaulted rafters with old furniture that smelled of mildew and tannen. At least there were only a few thin windows through which murky grey light slanted, even if they lacked rusted iron bars.

For hours the fillies wandered the damp, wide passages in search of anything interesting. It would have been easy to assume that the castle of a goddess, in lands ponies had not seen in thousands of years, would have been filled with all sorts of interesting things or places. Instead, it was closer to being in the basement of any typical grandparent’s home.

They were denied even the thrill of being lost. The castle basement was laid out in such a typical, orderly manner that even those most prone to losing their way could find the stairs out after only a few turns.

“What do you mean?” Scootaloo shot back to Apple Bloom as she poked her head into the same room they had explored a half-dozen times already. The most interesting thing in the room was a heap of ancient spinning looms that somepony had set on fire, and then smashed with hammers at some point.

“Like, it seemed as if we were headed for some great big adventure, and then nothing. No monsters, magic, or hidden lore. No secret societies that we stumble over. There ain’t even been a decent bit of fun since that star fell. I think we’ve been cursed, girls. A place like this; we should have found something, not a bunch of gravy saucers!” Apple Bloom waved her hooves at a couple overflowing crates of tarnished brass oil lamps.

Nodding, Scootaloo muttered, “Yeah. Daring Do would have been in two hoof fights, snuck onto a ship, and decoded at least one ancient text to solve a puzzle by now. I think we’ve lost our mojo. Cutie Mark Crusader Dungeon Delvers is officially a bust.”

With this she slammed a door shut, crossed her hooves, leaned against a bust of Iridia, and promptly vanished into a yawning black void with a startled yelp. The remaining fillies blinked as the bust slid back out of the wall to cover the secret trapdoor.

“Well, that was fast,” Apple Bloom chuckled as she pushed the secret door open, careful to avoid falling in after Scootaloo. “You okay down there, Scoots?”

No response, just the fading sounds of a happy squeal echoing along a confined space.

Sweetie and Shyara shared the same incredulous looks. Neither had spoken since Apple Bloom and Scootaloo all-but dragged them from their rooms. It was not that they were miserable, just silent, their hearts far away with thoughts of those they’d lost. Sweetie saw a mirror of her own pain every time she looked at Shyara. An unspoken bond linked them, and just being in each others presence was enough.

Shyara rolled her wings in a way that said, ‘We better keep an eye on them. They’ll get into more trouble without us,’ and jumped into the hole. Sweetie followed a moment later, and then Apple Bloom with a delighted yell.

Along a twisting slue Sweetie slid, glowing moss lighting the way in a soft blue glow. Charging her horn, she added a silvery-green shimmer to the smooth stones zipping past. Cool, stale wind whipped through Sweetie’s mane, and stung her eyes. As abrupt as its beginnings, the slue ended, sending Sweetie into the air. A dozen hooflengths below stretched a pool of crystal black water. She barely had time to suck in a long gasp of breath before hitting the water with a loud splash.

Oddly warm water engulfed her. She tumbled about, direction lost in the foaming bubbles and dark. Another splash signalled Apple Bloom’s arrival. The ripple of her friend hitting the water showed Sweetie the way to the surface. A few strong kicks pushed her towards air, which she sucked in with greedy gulps.

Rubbing her eyes clear as she spat out a mouthful of the purest water, Sweetie looked around at the startling beauty of the natural cave they’d found. Towering mushrooms covered in glowing green and violet stripes stood tall as trees, forming a strange forest in the cavern. Dotted among the mushrooms were stalagmites, with stalactites as wide as a cart at the base thrusting down from the ceiling so high overhead. The walls of the cavern stretched out and vanished to either side. Sweetie was overcome by the impression of size, of everything being too large, as if she’d been shrunken down to the height of a mouse.

“This place is amazing!” Scootaloo shouted from deeper within the cavern, the echo of her voice lending her a deep boom. “You girls have to see this.”

Droplets of water flying from her as she shook herself dry, Sweetie spotted the wet trail where Scootaloo and Shyara had pulled themselves from the pool. She found a pathway of some ancient reddish cobblestone brickwork, broken and heaved where long dead trees had grown and then fossilised. Her friend’s prints made their way along the forgotten, buried road. Once Apple Bloom crawled out of the pool, grinning like a mad cat, Sweetie set off. Suspicion pulled at her. Already prone to grim musings, the road struck her as too out of place. Worn tops spoke of frequent use, and not by a people long since vanished into the mists of forgotten antiquity.

Rough hewn stairs, narrow and steep, suggested more recent occupants. Cut into fallen stalagmites, they darted back and forth with glittering quartz illuminated by the luminescent fungi. Sweetie took the stairs slowly, eyes darting across deep shadows. She could feel eyes on her, like she was being watched by the road’s ancient engineers.

At the top of the stairs she was confronted by an even more incredulous spectacle. Twisted, misshapen, and half crumbled, the ruins of some nameless tower thrust partially from the cavern walls. Red bricks, similar to the road, littered the tower’s shattered base, fallen from where zig-zags formed in th the once stately structure. In its prime the tower had been greater than any other of its age, or those of modern Equestria. Even bowed and broken, it stretched the entire height of three hundred lengths of the cavern sides, and into the rock above. At the top, where it merged into the stone above, hung hundreds of hexagonal emerald chandeliers.

Brow pinched tight, Sweetie cautiously approached the large, off-kilter frame that had held a door long since rotted away. Apple Bloom caught up, and then slowed to trot along at her side. There was a complete lack of concern from the farmer. Stooping down, Apple Bloom gasped and plucked a few yellow toadstools.

“Ambrowarts!” she exclaimed gleefully, shoving several into her saddlebags. “Zecora says they’re the only thing as good as Sparklepetals for easing pain.”

Mouth pinched into a stern line, Sweetie ducked down as she approached the door. Pleased with her find, Apple Bloom skipped past Sweetie through the doorway.

“Scootaloo, you shouldn’t touch that,” came Shyara’s voice from within the tower.

Sensing eyes following her, Sweetie slipped into the shadowed heart of the tower. An antechamber used by queens to greet honoured dignitaries or hold court emerged around her. Crenulated columns that once held aloft a grand domed copper ceiling were now toppled or partially swallowed by natural stone walls curving out towards the back of the chamber. Everywhere Sweetie looked, she was met by the height of architectural wonder merged with primal beauty. Mosaics that glittered with shifting tiles trapped in silicate deposits surrounded her. A broken stub of one column grew into a stalactite, so as to be whole again.

Nowhere else was the fusion of nature and craft so evident as the throne in the chamber’s heart. Glittering gold laced with the finest jewels, each worth a queen’s ransom, transformed into a jagged crown of flowing rock that sparkled in the light cast by Sweetie and Shyara’s horns.

Half covered by shadows, the body of some great queen watched over her tower, sprawled out on a central throne. Cobwebs and crusted material clung to ancient armour of glittering red-gold scales. Leather straps and padded undercoat that should have long since rotted away remained supple, hanging loose over its mummified wearer. Leaning back in her throne, with a crested helm pulled low over her face, the dead queen leered at Sweetie. Over her knees, one hoof resting on the hilt, lay a broad bladed arming sword.

There was something wrong with the body. Its aspect one of having died in extreme agony. With a gasp, Sweetie realised the body was deformed, with twisted hind legs splayed out, and jagged growths thrusting from one side of the skull. The back hooves were split and deformed, cloven as if they belonged to a bull. The leg not resting on the sword hung malformed at the queen’s side, brittle fingers growing from the pastern.

Stomach churning, Sweetie took a step back.

It was over the sword Scootaloo and Shyara argued. Tongue sticking from the corner of her mouth, Scootaloo peered at the ancient blade.

“Well, she doesn’t need it anymore, and the Cutie Mark Crusader Dungeon Delvers code says; finders keepers.” Scootaloo’s wings buzzed with excitement, kicking dust across the floor.

A huffy flap from Shyara’s broad wings added to the little dust storm. “Well, be it on your own head if you drop some curse or awaken a guardian.”

“Hey girls, what about this?” Apple Bloom called, drawing attention from the sword to a series of words melted into the floor previously hidden by the dust.

“A riddle, or warning!” Scootaloo clapped her hooves. “What does it say, Bloom?”

“What makes you think I have any clue how to read it?”

“Because Zecora has been teaching you magic?”

“Yeah, the basics of herbology, alchemy, and only recently we started the foundations of spellcraft, like the colours of aether and its associations. We ain’t nowhere near actual runes yet.” Apple Bloom shook her head. “Sweetie knows more about magic than me.”

Sweetie mechanically reminded her friends that unicorns didn’t learn any magic themselves until they received their remarks. Even Magic Kindergarten avoided the subject. The most she’d done was a little reading when being foalsat by Twilight. “Besides, these look nothing like what were in her books,” Sweetie concluded with a shrug.

“That is because these are regular script, not magic runes at all,” Shyara sighed, and beat her wings to clear the rest of the dust. “It is the language of the Marelantians.”

“Marelantis? That place is real? And you just so happen to be able to read their language?” Scootaloo scoffed. “Everypony knows Marelantis is one of the Sisters’ old mare's tales. It was never real. Just a metaphor.”

“Parable.” Sweetie corrected.

“I’m a goddess,” Shyara raised her nose into the air with a snort. “The Goddess of Secrets, no less. There is no language ever known by ponykind that is beyond my ken.” When the others just stared at her in confusion, she added, “That means understanding.”

“I knew that!” Hooves crossed, Scootaloo glared at Shyara and Sweetie. “So, what does it say? Are there any curses?”

“I’d rather know if there is a way out of here,” Apple Bloom quietly said to Sweetie. “I hope I ain’t the only one worried we ain’t got no way back to the surface. No way we can crawl back up that chute.”

Sweetie gave an uncommitted shrug. While the idea had crossed her mind, she expected Iridia and Fluttershy to find them at any moment. Until then, it mattered little to her where their adventure lead them. The cavern and tower just so happened to be interesting enough to draw Sweetie from her morose haze.

Clearing her throat, Shyara read aloud the ancient message, and Sweetie listened with rapt attention to the story that unfolded.

"Marelantis is drowned. Envy swallowed my sister, and so it swallowed our city. Lemarea is devoured. Pride consumed me, and it felled my refuge. My ponies are lost. Now no better than beasts in the freezing wastes. The Seven Gods are a lie. Iridia and Faust, those barbarian fillies, are the future of Ioka. I am a fool. The shadows slither near. Pride roars in my ears. He will not have the disc. The doors are closed to Him. Beware the Seven! The Great Sins that sound in all ponies' souls. Beware the drums of Envy, Sloth, Gluttony, Avarice, Wrath, Pride, and Lust. They will be the doom of the disc."

Profound silence followed Shyara’s recitation.

The friends all looked to each other.

“So…” Scootaloo began, voice trailing off as she peered at the script again. “Not cursed then,” she declared, rubbing her hooves together before she spun back to the throne and its mummifies occupant. Her hoof stretched out for the sword. Almost at once she leapt back with a yelp. “It bit me!”

A couple droplets of blood fell from the craddled hoof, tears welling up in Scootaloo’s eyes.

While Apple Bloom soothed Scootaloo with a balm from her saddlebags, Sweetie took a closer look at the sword. Razor sharp ridges in scale patterns ran the length of the hilt from crosspiece to pomel. Along one of the scales glistened the crimson tint of Scootaloo’s blood where it cut the frog of her hoof. Glad her friend had been lucky enough to use a hoof rather than her mouth, Sweetie took hold of the hilt. As with Scootaloo, the sharp ridges bit into the aura of Sweetie’s magic. With no soft flesh to lacerate, it was as if the sword returned her grip, tightening it so her hold over the hilt was unbreakable.

“Hey, that’s mine! Ouch, watch it, Bloom.”

Giving the grime encrusted sword a few, inexperienced swings, Sweetie said, “It was made so only a unicorn could pick it up safely.”

Pouting, and hoof clutched to her chest, Scootaloo whined, “Fine, then I get the armour.”

“Ew! A dead pony is wearing that, Scoots.”

“So? She’s been dead a really long time, so it’s fine.”

“There ain’t no time limit on it being wrong to take from the dead.”

“Sure there is. Daring Do does it all the time. It’s called archeolomony.”

“Archeology.”

“Same thing. Point is, ponies do it all the time.”

The argument went on in this manner for some time, ending only when Scootaloo knocked the dead queen over as she tried to loosen one of the clasps. Grimacing at the casual, almost greedy, disregard for the dead, Shyara helped remove the shimmering scale barding and fit it over the much smaller pegasus. Sweetie and Apple Bloom had to bite back sniggers at the sight of their friend in armour made for a tall, adult unicorn.

To say it hung loose would be a vast understatement. The helmet drooped so low the noseguard fell below Scootaloo’s chin. The folds of the barding pooled around her legs like she were in a heap of glistening bedsheets. Still, Scootaloo grinned madly, a wild twinkle to her eyes.

“Best adventure yet,” Scootaloo decreed, shuffling in a little circle. “Wait until Rainbow sees this armour. She is going to be super impressed.”

Her grin began to fade, then morph into worry as a light of panic creased her face. Yelping, Scootaloo spun as if bitten. Frantically, she tore at the buckles of the armour. When they refused to give, she flopped to the ground and rolled about in frenzied hysterics. Movements wild, like an animal covered in biting ants, nopony could help, only add to the confused screaming, yelling, and panic. Sweetie’s heart raced as she tried to grab her friend and pull her from the armour, but her magic was repelled.

Over and over, the word ‘curse’ rang in Sweetie’s head. Some ancient trap lain in times lost in the fog of history was attacking her friend, and she was utterly helpless. All she could do was watch as Scootaloo howled in a writhing mass. Her friend was dying, and she was powerless to stop whatever was happening. Just as she’d been powerless to help Rarity.

A cold, furious lump lodged itself in Sweetie’s gut. She refused to lose Scootaloo, too. With frenzied intensity she tried to pry her friend free. Nothing she did worked. Her magic could find no purchase on Scootaloo, and her friend just howled louder with each failed attempt.

“Sweetie!” Scootaloo stretched out a hoof, tears streaming down her ashen face. Her hoof quivered, and then flopped to the ground and was still.

Breath frozen in her lungs, dread twisting her insides with undirected hatred, Sweetie reached out for her limp friend.

With a start, Scootaloo jerked upright, and let out a surprised, "Huh.”

Around her the armour was no longer slack and ill-fitted, but was rather snug, as supple and secure as if it were a second skin. Even her diminutive wings were covered, yet had room to move and flap, slits having opened in the barding to accommodate them.

Blinking in amazement, Scootaloo patted herself down, and then let out a long whoop. “It’s magic armour! Look! Look!”

She spun about a couple times, struck a few ‘heroic’ poses, and then strutted back and forth in a little dance. Her antics came to a stop when Apple Bloom cuffed her over the back of the head.

“We thought it was killing you, dummy!” Apple Bloom angrily snapped, happy tears in her eyes. “Never scare us like that again!”

“It still has magic after six thousand years?” Sweetie hoarsely whispered.

Everypony knew that even the best Equestrian enchantments required some maintenance, or they would fade after a century or two. The great Houses kept powerful wardstones designed to protect their lands and families, many of which were older than Equestria itself. Sweetie’s mother talked about them once, and how they were the most important artifact to the noble houses. The matriarchs spent small fortunes acquiring the resources and professionals to keep the monoliths charged, and they were tied to the land, drawing on its natural aether.

It was a testament to the skill of the ancient craftspony that the armour was as if new after so long lost.

Sweetie often overheard Rarity complain about how troublesome it was to work enchantments into clothes. Armour had to be more difficult, in Sweetie’s estimation. Her gaze drifted down to the grime encrusted sword floating beside her. It struck her as odd that the sword should be so worn when the Marelantians in the Book of Names were given to prizing their weapons more than even their own foals.

With a grunt, she turned her attention from the sword to the rest of the antechamber. There was an eerie familiarity about the place, like she’d walked into some half-forgotten dream. Mouth dry, her hooves began to move of their own accord.

Behind the throne there was a small alcove that broke off at right angles. One side was completely subsumed by rock, but the other ran off into the distance. The beginnings of some stairs could just be made out, as well as the empty frame for a door to some adjoining room. Fragments of bone lay heaped between stairs and the doorway. Sliding cautiously along the corridor, suspicious instincts were kindled along the nape of the unicorn’s neck.

Using the point of her sword, she prodded the pile of bones, tense with worry of some monster or other leaping out. No slashing claws or beedy eyes emerged, and Sweetie let out a long breath. Her sword swung next to the archway. She slid further along the wall, enough so that she could peek around the corner.

The adjoining chamber was round, with a raised dais or altar in the center. Holes in the walls showed where there’d been fittings for voluminous curtains, and a cracked stone stool was pressed up against the far wall. Sweeping her gaze further along the room, she came across a sight that chilled her.

Dried blood was splashed over the faded alabaster walls, painting them in stark tales of violence. At the base of a broad rusty swath lay a body. Over-sized hands rested splayed in a lap filled with gore and entrails. Worms and insects feasted in a swarming mass on the rotting flesh. Little of the face could be seen where it sloughed off the bone. Gagging, Sweetie backed away, but was unable to pull her gaze away. Just enough of the body remained to identify it as a Diamond Dog.

Lower lip pinched between her teeth to hold back a scream, Sweetie’s eyes darted about the chamber in case whatever killed the dog was still near. The trail of dried blood lead towards a rough hewn hole in a wall, prints showing where the dog had pulled himself up from down below. A piece of leather partially covered the tunnel. Every now and then it flapped as the tunnel breathed, a dank, musty wind flowing over Sweetie and carrying away the stench of decay.

Fortifying her stomach, Sweetie turned back to the body, and gave it a closer inspection. Aside from the ghastly ruin of the dog’s belly, there were many deep and jagged wounds to thigh, arms, and throat, suggesting some clawed beast had shredded the unfortunate hound. Whatever had done such damage tore through hardened scale armour, speaking of ferocious violence and strength. This was no act of hunger, as no part of the Diamond Dog had been eaten before being found by the underworld’s carrion worms.

Shocked at how she could be so calm when faced with such brutality, Sweetie resolved to steer her friends away from the room. Such sights would only terrify them needlessly.

A yell and commotion brought a cold sweat along Sweetie’s neck. Fearing whatever killed the dog had found her friends, she darted back to the antechamber. She slowed and ducked down on reaching the intersection, peaking around the corner.

In the antechamber her friends stood surrounded by a large group of Diamond Dogs. These were little like the squat, muscular creatures known to prowl the hills south of Ponyville. Lean and spindly, there was a feral, wiry strength to these Diamond Dogs. Long, powerful paws with stubby claws held picks and hammers in tight fists. Padded jerkins of some sort of leather covered their hairy chest. Fat lips pulled back in snarls revealed long, yellow fangs. Malice shone in their small, black eyes.

One of the dogs roughly grabbed Apple Bloom by the mane, making her cry out in pain and fear. Face puffed up, Scootaloo readied to charge, while Shyara growled something in the dog’s own guttural, primitive tongue. Cruel amusement rumbled in the dogs’ chests, and in that moment Sweetie leapt out like a screaming panther.

Something fully awakened in Sweetie, a primal flame forgotten by most ponies bursting to life. Cold calculous took hold. Her friends or the Diamond Dogs. Gone was all timidity and softness. She refused to lose her friends as she had her sister. Tears in her eyes at the final loss of innocence, she brought the edge of her sword down on the arm holding Apple Bloom.

There was an instant of pliant resistance, and Sweetie feared the sword would rebound from the armour. Then it sliced through sinew and bone with ease, severing the limb at the elbow. Howling, the dog staggered, clutching the stump, thick blood gushing between desperately groping fingers.

As she drove her sword into the dog’s chest, Sweetie yelled, “This way!”

And thus began the longest hours of Sweetie’s life.

All at once everypony flew into action. The Diamond Dogs leapt after the fillies, crossbows twanging in the confined chamber with angry retorts. Sparks flew from Scootaloo’s helmet where it turned aside a steel bolt. Apple Bloom lead the others past Sweetie, Shyara in the middle with horn alight like a silver-blue lance in the darkness as she defended her mortal friends. The Diamond Dogs weapons bounced off her own coat with little ill effects. Had the group thought for a moment, Shyara could have held that doorway against the dogs for an eternity.

Overcome with the rush of urgency, and still barely a century old, Syara acted as taught when faced by monsters away from the guardianship of a hero, and ran. Up the narrow stairs they fled. The scrapping of talons on stone, feral yowls, and the rattle of armour gave added energy in their flight. A horn sounded, terrible and long as it echoed against the stony gloom, summoning more dogs from the depths.

At the rear, Sweetie worked with single minded abandonment to keep the dogs from rushing past and snatching her friends. With wild, desperate strokes, she swung her sword. In the final beat of the first dog’s heart, it was cleansed and anointed. Aurichalcum shone hungry red-gold in the light cast by Sweetie’s horn. She could feel the ancient magics of the Marelantian sword respond to her commands with renewed vitality. Each stroke became more controlled as the sword began to guide her, compelling her motions to greater effect. Yet, it was all she could do to hold them at bay without the advantage of surprise.

More and more came, the scraping scramble of the Diamond Dogs, shaking the walls with their swelling numbers as they flooded in from all directions.

A fierce instinct alien to most ponies burst forth in Sweetie’s heaving chest. Heiress of Bonnie Bloodrose Belle, a lineage of dozens of corsairs, and proud knights before them, flowed in Sweetie’s veins. Given enough time, with suitable training, she would have made the dogs pay a dear price for every step. As it was, by the time she reached the second landing, her sword had been driven to the hilt into the throat of a dog, and its twitching body hurled into the path of the scrabbling horde, slowing them for a few precious moments. Without consideration, the dying dog was tossed aside and trampled by its fellows.

Bounding up the stairs, Sweetie searched for some method to halt the dogs’ advance. Her mind moved quicker, clearer than it had ever before. If she did nothing, the dogs would kill her friends. No rescue was coming.

Not this time.

She had to keep the others safe.

Sweetie burst onto a wide ledge, hooves scrabbling over loose, slick stones. Ahead lay a chasm, cleft through the underworld as if by some titanic axe. On the other side, the ruined tower continued clawing its way towards the surface. In either direction the chasm ran into formless darkness. Sweetie and her friends stood on a balcony of sorts where the tower had broken in two halves, forming the great gulf over which they looked.

A quick glance showed Sweetie a heavy bronze door, and beyond where it lay, a bridge formed of a toppled column over the narrowest point of the gap.

“Help me with this,” Sweetie commanded her friends, grappling with the fallen door. Together, they shoved it over the doorway just in time, a push by Shyara wedging it in place. Pushing her friends toward the makeshift bridge, she urged them not to relax. “Come on, come on!”

Tears streaming down her cheeks, Apple Bloom was the first to mount the bridge. Behind her came Scootaloo.

“I got you, Bloom,” the pegasus said, wings buzzing to keep herself stable.

Biting her tongue to keep from whimpering, Apple Bloom inched out along the slippery bridge. A bang from the door startled her. Hooves scrambling for purchase on the slimy stone, she began to tip, then slide towards the waiting chasm. Out of reach of her undeveloped magic, Sweetie could only watch in horror as her best friend slipped. Leaning out, Scootaloo clamped her teeth onto Apple Bloom’s tail. Wings buzzing, she dangled half off the bridge, Apple Bloom suspended over the bleak darkness.

Jumping onto the bridge, Shyara grabbed both fillies and roughly shoved them to the far side. Before they could so much as get ot their hooves, they were forced back, crossbow bolts sparking against stone about their hooves. More and more fell from the ledge above them in deadly, steel whispers from either side of the chasm.

Sweetie’s sword flew up, darting about in a meagre defense. Pain followed a heavy thump in the filly’s shoulder, like the sting of a giant wasp. Gasping, she shrank back deeper beneath the ledge where the bolts could not reach. Her gasps turned to a scream as her mind caught up with the reality of the wound, burning from shoulder to the frog of her left forehoof. It collapsed beneath her the moment she attempted to put any weight on the leg, pain growing with the attempt. She twisted her head away, too afraid to look, knowing that buried in the meat of her shoulder was barbed steel. Leg dangling uselessly, Sweetie’s furious gaze darted between the bridge and the door trembling under the hammering blows of powerful fists.

Any moment, the door would give, and the dogs would swarm over her with hacking axes and tearing fangs. That was unless she was dragged into the darkness. To cross the bridge would be impossible with the sharpshooters above, and there was no other way off the ledge.

Sweetie’s gaze locked with Shyara’s, and she was certain the young goddess read her thoughts before she bellowed, “Go!”

Mustering all her meger strength, Sweetie reached for the column. If she could just lift it a little, it would fall and the dogs would lose the only bridge. She braced her good legs, and let out a deep growl as she strained against its unwieldy weight. The column refused to budge. Behind Sweetie the door began to buckle.

Spinning about with a cry of, “Enough!” Shyara launched a scintillating beam of cutting magic towards the source of the showering bolts. The high ledge blazed with blue flames and a dozen dogs burst into ash or spun, fire clinging to flailing limbs, into the abyss. The remainder retreated.

Smiling, Shyara gestured for Sweetie to cross. Her grin faded, transforming into a mask of fear. Beneath them, far below in the chasm’s heart, stars began to shine and shift within a lavender blossom of light. From the depths came an unnatural boom followed by a roar that scraped across Sweetie’s heart, like granite blocks grinding together until they shattered. Primal terror pierced the fillies, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo clutching their ears as they wailed against the impossible roar. Shyara stood frozen, exposed above the abyss, staring down at whatever she’d awoken.

Even limping, Sweetie raced across the makeshift bridge, and pushed Shyara to Scootaloo and Apple Bloom’s reaching hooves.

“How is this possible?” Shyara gasped. “How can she be here? I watched her die.”

“We’re all going to die if we don’t get moving,” Scootaloo said, verging on shouting.

Almost as if she were in a daze, Shyara staggered away, staring forlornly towards the growing light crawling up the walls of the chasm. Sweetie recognized the longing in every aspect of Shyara’s tone and expression. Fragments of hope still pierced her heart every day, the belief that perhaps Rarity still survived, somehow, weathering all sound logic. Whatever was in the chasm yanked on identical strings in Shyara.

“What’s down there? What have you woken up, Shyara?” Sweetie asked through clenched teeth and the pain wracking her body.

The question snapped Shyara out of her haze. Wrenching her gaze away from the chasm, she closed her eyes and was silent a moment. When she spoke, her words were slow, purposeful, and carried the weight of finality. “A demon formed from the night. Something once pure, now corrupted. Twisted. Wrong! A monster that never should have been, but was made. Thuban! She hungers…She hungers for me. She hunts me! If you do not leave me, she will get you too.”

Again, that unnatural roar shook the cavern. Closer, and far more dreadful, it gnawed on the edges of sanity. Screaming, the three mortal fillies clutched their ears and writhed on the ground until the terrible noise passed.

Frantic, Shyara pulled her friends up and gestured towards the stairs. “Just go already!”

“And what will we do about the diamond dogs without you?” Apple Bloom demanded. “You ain’t leaving us now. Friends stick together, no matter what.”

Panting, sweat running in thick rivulets down her brow, Sweetie shook her matted mane. “I won’t be able to keep up. Not with this leg. You girls go on—”

“We ain’t splitting up!” Apple Bloom declared with an emphatic stomp. Behind her Scootaloo nodded. “If your leg is hurt, then I’ll be your legs. A small unicorn like you, I carry heavier loads during applebuck season back on the farm. Scoots, help her up.”

Deaf to Sweetie’s protests, they heaved her up onto Apple Bloom’s strong back. For a few steps she staggered, then adjusted to the weight.

Across the way, the brass door at last gave underneath the dog’s assault and fell with a deafening bang. Gleefully, they raced towards the bridge spurred on by the sight of their quarry stumbling up the next set of steps. In a slobbering, beastial wave they clambered over the slick stone with expert paws.

Driven by fear of what lay in the chasm, nopony dared take a moment to topple the bridge. With Shyara now at the rear, the fillies scrambled up the broken, narrow steps. Several times, Apple Bloom slipped, scuffing her knees until they were raw and bleeding. Moving faster than ever, Scootaloo dashed off ahead, the noise of her wings receding as she scouted the way. They came to a landing, a wide passage splitting off to either side. Ahead, the next set of stairs were blocked by ancient rubble.

Before they could start to decide which way to go, Scootaloo emerged from the right corridor, a quick, urgent gesture signalling the others to hurry.

A jagged seam marked the transition from the tower’s upper levels into a lower segment, the two pushed together during the disaster that claimed Lemarea. Vaulted ceilings, pierced by stalactite teeth, hovered above the fleeing fillies. In the height of its glory, they would have been dashing through garden squares and open pavilions. The tree that once lived in that long lost garden stood alone, forlorn and petrified, white bark turned to dark grey, the impression of broad leaves and flower petals scattered around the base.

Garden gave way to apartments. Scattered remnants lay about the rooms: lamps and poles, here the rusted frame of a bed, there the rotted hulk of a wardrobe. Holes in some walls granted passage deeper into the city, while some corridors remained blocked by fallen stone. What would have once been an open map of buildings and streets had become a twisted maze which the fillies had no hope of navigating, chased by vicious Diamond Dogs or not.

Riotous clatter drew nearer and nearer. Sweetie could feel the dogs’ hot breath at the back of her neck, and beyond that a presence cold and far more dreadful. As they paused at one intersection, a snarling face appeared, and Sweetie stabbed with her sword. There was a shiver of soft resistance and the face fell back in a gurgling howl.

Spurred by the dog, they quit thinking and simply ran. The corridor they fled down opened almost at once into a gigantic hall larger and grander than anything the fillies had ever seen before. Floors of silver hue rang like chimes under their hooves, and ceilings of glittering gold were held aloft by crystal columns. Celestia’s throne room, if it had been stacked thrice upon itself, would have failed to reach the invisible ceiling overhead, and should it have stretched lengthwise, it could not have crossed the hall in width. Unphased by the grandeur, they sped past gemmed murals that glimmered in star strewn hues until a massive door of aurichalcum covered in Marelantian runes bound by intricate friezes blocked their path. Throwing her shoulder against the door with a grunt, Scootaloo bounced off the unyielding door. Shyara met equal resistance, even the young goddess unable to force her way through.

In the grim acceptance unique to those too exhausted for despair, they turned to face the coming horde. And waited. From the distance echoed a series of screams and frothing war yowls, all ending with a stark, sudden finality. Then followed that long, terrible roar from the chasm, and a lavender glow trickled along the corridor.

“She’s here! She is going to take me and kill you all. I have to lead her away.” Shyara stumbled as if in a daze toward the hellish glow.

Sword sweeping down to block Shyara’s path, Sweetie said through clenched teeth, “You can read this language. There has to be a way to open this door, and I bet, by Celestia’s mane, there are instructions hidden somewhere.”

Scootaloo bobbed her head. After a moment, Shyara swallowed her terror and faced the door. Her eyes glowed like jewels as she touched her domain to reveal the door’s ancient secrets.

“It’s a song sealed door,” she declared, glow receding from her eyes. “You have to sing a personal song, something with deep meaning. The song itself is immaterial, it is the heart of the singer that is important. As you sing you will be judged. If worthy, it’ll open. If not, it says you will be punished.”

“You have to do it, Sweetie,” Scootaloo instantly said. “If any of us can open this song door, it is you.”

Wetting her lips, Sweetie darted a pleading look around her friends. She knew they were right. Scootaloo was borderline tone deaf, as much as she loved roaring out tunes. Apple Bloom had a nice, appropriately earthy voice, but prefered backup positions. Shyara… from the petrification etched on her face, had never sung once in her century of life.

Sliding off Apple Bloom’s back, Sweetie limped towards the door.

She knew which song the door required. Knew it though the lyrics had never crossed her lips nor had the notes ever touched her ears. It was a song she had know for weeks now, a fire kindled in her soul in the days following Rarity’s… She’d held it close, treasured its meger warmth even as she shunned it, fearing to give it voice lest it flare and die, leaving her with nothing but a cold stone marker over an empty grave.

It was a song that she found impossible to give voice. Instead, she selected a bouncy little ditty made famous by a deva in the spring. Sweetie knew the lyrics by heart, as did most other young fillies. She’d spent weeks annoying everypony singing it over and over. Rarity even joined her a couple times. It had to be enough.

Dark, red magic flowed over the rune-etched door at the end of the first stanza. Identical red lines criss crossed over Sweetie’s chest. With a sharp gasp, she lurched forward, song torn from her tongue as she tried to pull in desperate breath, as if an invisible sword had been driven through her heart. Sweat flowed down her face and body, and mingled with the thick blood coursing down her leg.

Shaking the sweat from her eyes, she limped another step closer. Worried voices warbled behind her. Sweetie shut them out.

There was only one song that would satisfy the seal. If she could summon the courage to sing it.

She began to sing slowly, her lips struggling around the strange the foreign words of the ancient Marelantian tongue, and hesitating as ephemeral fears warred against present danger. But she pressed on. Each syllable danced from her throat gracefully, an ebbing flow of unrecognizable words whose meaning was nevertheless so clear in her heart.

Threads of crystalline aether spiraled into Sweetie’s soul, sank into the depths of a life lost, beckoned by ancient ghostly essence. The aria flowed from Sweetie, from the depths of her soul, a hidden past long forgotten laid bare to the disc. Sweetie was assailed by a former life. Images, sounds, smells, the sensation of lips on her own, wine splashing over her tongue, pride swelling in her breast, sickening vengeance twisting in her stomach, and then the final gasps of breath leaving her dying body.

All in the drifting note of the chorus.

Focusing on memories of Rarity, she weathered the onslaught like a ship in the eye of a titanic storm. Silvery-blue magic danced between her horn and the door, activating the seal in a dazzling flash. Voices joined Sweetie’s in a high, delicate chant, a resonance forming between singer and seal. All who listened were moved. Sweetie’s voice was so pure, so beautifully Shyara wept the crystal tears of an alicorn moved to unimaginable sorrow. Upon the clear heart of the seal the song became etched, preserving for the Ages to come Sweetie’s lament. A split began to form down the door, and Sweetie was almost tugged off her hooves by some unseen force.

Body shaking, legs barely able to hold her, Sweetie poured every once of sorrow, fear, and hope into the final verse. The seal responded in kind, blazing brighter still, surface aswirl with dancing runes and flowing magic.

Sweetie slumped forward, the last notes of her song hanging in the air. She blinked, delirious with the confused jumble of memories vying for space in her head. Apple Bloom appeared beside her, providing a supportive shoulder. Underhoof, the tunnel shook with Thuban’s approach, the evil glow almost blinding the way they’d come, and behind the glow, darkness. One by one, the rows of columns began to vanish, consumed by some impossible shadow greater than the absolute abyss of Ioka’s underworld.

Through the growing crack in the door, the fillies beheld a whirlpool of molten gold. Head still swirling, Sweetie understood the inner workings of the magical door. It lead to a realm beyond the disc, hidden in the swirling mists between life and death. It was a place not meant for mortals.

Fumbling on unsteady legs, each step sending torturous lances of fire through her body, Sweetie was helped by her friends through the golden gate. There was a moment of stickiness, the gate resisting their passage, and then a sensation of spinning before they fell out the other side. Tall, half-formed misshapen trees loomed in the gentle, gloomy grey light that greeted the fillies. For a moment, Sweetie believed they’d reached the surface, but it was no forest in which they found themselves, but an odd garden of fog clouded archways. There was no sun at all, the fog itself lighting the pebble walkways. A chill swept up Sweetie’s neck, and when she looked back, she saw they’d come through one of the arches.

Quickly they scrambling beneath a hedgerow that encircled a large, dead white tree and dry fountain. There they hid, and waited.

And then a violet blaze around a core of total darkness thundered into the garden.

Nopony dared look. Malice so thick it pressed them into the dirt coiled through the gardens. Breath froze in Sweetie’s throat with a fear so sharp she became incapable of moving. If she so much as twitched, they’d be discovered. At any moment the hedges would be torn aside, and the beast would descend on them. For what felt like hours, the beast stood there, and then it moved deeper into the gardens, each step making the earth quake.

Behind it, the gate shuddered, closed, and then shattered. Stones raining down around them, a slight whimper coming from one of the fillies. The way back to the disc was lost.

“I don’t want to adventure anymore,” Scootaloo sobbed. Her spirit, usually wild as the summer winds, had endured all it could manage. Tears running down her face and unable to look at the wound on Sweetie’s shoulder, the young pegasus trembled and wished with all her heart to be back home.

“Shyara, I need you to help me get this out of Sweetie,” Apple Bloom said, ignoring Scootaloo’s whimpering. “She’s lost too much blood already. Here, help me.”

Sweetie was only vaguely aware of Apple Bloom and Shyara’s actions as they laid her down before setting to work. Scootaloo kept a lookout, but the beast seemed to have vanished.

A numbing poultice made from ambrowart and combined with other supplies in Apple Bloom’s saddlebags was applied around the wound. Waiting for its medicinal effects to take hold, Apple Bloom prepared bandages and cleansed a knife with alcohol. Poultice snatched away, and a thick thong placed between her teeth, Sweetie received only a brief warning before Apple Bloom set to removing the bolt from her shoulder. Apple Bloom had to work the barbed head to get it loose where it had burrowed into bone. Swearing as she fought with the bolt, it took Apple Bloom several minutes before she managed to push it through. Tossing it aside, she began to sew Sweetie’s shoulder shut after probing the wound to make certain no pieces remained to fester.

At some point, Sweetie passed out, overwhelmed by the agony.

For an unknown span she floated in a shapeless void, empty of dreams, of joy and fear. Only a vague memory tethered her to the waking world. A hoof twitched, and the veil parted to reveal a turgid river slowly winding its way across a grey landscape devoid of any life. At its terminus, the river met four others to form an inland sea.

Mountains grew in the great distance, and in their arms stretched a city far greater than any other in all creation. Towers of every style and sort loomed over close packed homes built at odd angles. Walls of impossible heights divided the city into ever shifting districts, the city in a continual state of reorganisation. Neighborhoods grew and shrank, like waves in a boiling pot of tar. Palaces dotted the cityscape, and only they remained unphased by the upheaval. All of Equestria could fit within a single district, and the city held hundreds.

Sweetie knew this city, as did all mortals, for it was the City of the Dead. She trembled, and turned to flee, and came nose to nose with a thane. Sunken eyes of impossible black burrowed into Sweetie’s soul. Before the thane she was laid bare. The spirit said nothing, only placed the tip of a wing to Sweetie’s breast, and gave her a push.

A yell lodged itself in Sweetie’s throat as she was hurtled away from Tartarus. Past worlds vivid with life and grim with death, through a timeless swirl of mists, and back into the endless void she plummeted. There, Sweetie was certain, she would be lost, until a crown of stars appeared. They raced towards her, and Sweetie held up a hoof to fend them off.

At their impact consciousness returned in a vivid burst. She was immediately aware of deep aches, and a sharp, burning pain that went from the base of her horn to the end of her hoof. Growling, she sat up and found herself in another part of the ghostly garden. Scootaloo sat beside her and jumped when she moved.

“You’re alive! Thank Celestia,” Scootaloo quietly rejoiced, squeezing Sweetie in a crushing hug.

Propping herself against a short stone wall, flinching when she unthinkingly tried to use her injured leg, Sweetie scanned the garden with fresh eyes. Whatever it was that the Marelantian song had awakened in her was still there, the aspirations and fears, that vital force of a bygone life rekindled in her breast. She knew where they’d stumbled, and it filled her with trepidation.

The archways were doors connecting Ioka to the Winterlands. Through the doorways the marelantians could send agents, or whole armies, to any corner of the disc. Where the marelantians came by the knowledge of the doorways remained lost, the methods used in their construction as dead as the Sorceress Queens.

As she looked around, Sweetie was confronted by a long, glass case. Within the case lay an esoteric tome bound in flesh and possessing a single, bloodshot eye that glared evilly at her. Beyond the case lay several others in a haphazard array. Some were open, others were bound with aurichalcum clasps and spells.

Following Sweetie’s gaze, Scootaloo said in a low whisper, “Shyara says this is where Iridia and Faust hid the most dangerous things they’ve found.”

“Then Iridia and Fluttershy are coming,” Sweetie concluded with a relieved sigh, but Scootaloo shook her head.

“We carried you a long way to get here. I think they used a different door.” With a gesture, Scootaloo indicated the other side of the cases, where they clustered around a broken arch.

Sweetie’s stomach dropped.

From somewhere nearby, the terrible roar of the dragon shook the garden. A heavy rumble knocked Sweetie to her tender knees and the fog flashed purple and blue, then all was quiet. Shyara and Apple Bloom emerged from the folded banks of fog, short legs blurred as they run.

“Go, go!” Apple Bloom shouted at Sweetie and Scootaloo, terror etched deep into her golden eyes.

Night seemed to sweep over the whole garden like a curtain being drawn. Apple Bloom and Shyara hardly slowed as they reached their friends and helped Sweetie to stand. Sweetie regained her hooves only to be knocked prone again when the ground lurched beneath her with far greater violence. A mighty boom echoed in their ears and bones, deafening in its crushing weight. With widening eyes, Sweetie realised it was not the night she was seeing, but the dragon’s shadow.

The fillies clutched each other, lost in the shadow of a dragon made of shattered stars. Great feathered wings blotted out the sky, plunging the fillies into a darkness more akin to the veil between worlds than simple night. Immense as a mountain and supple as a cat, the dragon held itself with flowing graceful movements waiting to explode into violent motions. Each step caused earthquakes, and the dragon’s breath a freezing wind. Eyes like moonlit lakes pierced the fillies, alight with an incomprehensible ancient intelligence.

Steadying herself with a backwards glance at the Crusaders, Shyara stood before Thuban. Before she could issue any challenge, or give any honey suckled praise, the dragon’s barbed tail lashed at the young goddess. She screamed and fell back into the crusader’s hooves where she writhed in agony. Silver blood poured between her hooves.

With the last of her ambrowart, Apple Bloom tried to calm Shyara. The little goddess still shook, but she no longer thrashed in agony. Tenderly, with a soft, coaxing voice, Apple Bloom managed to pry Shyara’s hooves from her eyes. Shyara’s right eye was reduced to a gorey mess. Sweetie’s stomach lurched, and Scootaloo retched. Even Apple Bloom was green, her hooves trembling as she did her best to stem the flow of blood.

Thuban watched them silently, as a lion would a squirming mouse.

Lowering her head, the dragon curled her lips with beastial, dark humour.

Pushing herself up, rage bright behind her eyes, Sweetie hefted her sword. “Why would you do that? What have we done to you?” With a frustrated scream, Sweetie thrust her blade. Sparks flew where aurchalcum met Thuban’s scales.

Thuban snarled, and raised one massive paw.

Upper lip curling, Sweetie accepted she was powerless against such a beast. Still, the fierce blood awoken within her demanded she try. Her gaze darted to the arches. Many were broken, and the few that remained were closed. Without a key, they would remain so. A song, an emotion, or even a physical key itself—the ways to unlock the doors were myriad—and without some clue, Sweetie could struggle the rest of her natural life without ever opening another gate.

Her gaze next flitted to the display cases. The objects within were among the worst ever seen on Ioka, artifacts of pure evil banished even from songs so all knowledge of their existence was lost. That they were hidden indicated that there was likely no way for these objects to be destroyed, even by Iridia and Faust.

Not that she could reach the cases before being crushed by Thuban.

Planning came to a vivid end, a beam of light blasting over Sweetie’s shoulder. Struck on the breast, Thuban snarled and staggered back. Apple Bloom’s admonishment told Sweetie all she needed about the source. Remaining eye aglow with righteous fury, Shyara stood on splayed hooves, smokey aether curling about her horn. Similar smoke curled between Thuban’s fangs, a brilliant glow filling the dragon’s mouth.

“Get Scoots and Bloom out of here, Sweetie,” Shyara barked in a rapid tumble, building a thick shield of black crystal.

Fire from the heart of a star shrieked in a brilliant white geyser, forming a pure line of unbridled fury.

With a hissing crackle almost deafening in its ferocity, starfire slammed into Shyara’s shield, spraying molten puddles in every direction. Cracks formed across the crystal, and a deep, dreadful heat washed over Sweetie.

“Go, go! I will hold Thuban here!” Shyara yelled, straining with the effort to halt Thuban’s breath. Sweat covered her brow, mixing with her silvery blood, and her legs shook beneath the unending stream of starfire.

Sweetie wanted to protest. Every fibre of her recoiled at leaving a friend behind. She wished she could stand shoulder to shoulder with Shyara.

With a slight start, Sweetie realized it was impossible. As Shyara found her second wind and stood straighter, she stood a full hoof in the shoulder taller than she had but moments before. Gone was her round filly features, replaced by the lean frame of a mare in her later teens.

“Why are you standing there gaping like an idiot? I told you to go!”

Shyara’s voice hit Sweetie with almost physical force. Grabbing her oldest friends with her magic, Sweetie galloped with an odd, lopping sort of gait as fast as she could with her injured leg. Direction was immaterial, only escape was important. Sweetie put out of her thoughts the rumble and flash of explosions behind her, of the shrieking protests of Scootaloo and Apple Bloom, and the ground shaking underhoof. Her singular focus was on finding a familiar arch, or one that was already open.

A flicker in the corner of her eye caught her attention, a stout marble archway filling with a molten mercury sheen only a few yards away. Lowering her head, tears racing down her face at leaving Shyara behind to face certain doom, Sweetie put on a final burst of speed. Three strides away, she was knocked off her hooves as Shyara and Thuban came crashing down into the heart of the garden, banishing the fog. Tumbling, Sweetie caught only a fleeting glance of Shyara prone beneath Thuban’s paws, starfire building in the dragon’s mouth. Sweetie and Shyara’s eyes connected, and Shyara smiled in the instant before Thuban’s starfire was unleashed, and Sweetie lost all sight as she fell between worlds.

The slick shuffling of hooves against the blood soaked streets of Lemarea surrounded Applejack in an appalling bubble. Beside her, Soarin held his mouth in a deep frown, wings tight at his sides. It was only natural. Applejack had yet to meet a pegasus that felt at ease underground. The carnage that surrounded them only added to his rigid posture. Soarin was far from alone in his grim demeanor. With them marched a procession of Halla. Warriors scouted ahead and guarded the group from ambush. Several priestesses lit the way with balls of magic. Finally, a few scholars clung to Iridia and Fluttershy like ticks.

Altogether, three dozen Halla accompanied their queen.

From the moment they’d descended a hidden set of stairs behind the throne room, Iridia had marched with single-minded purpose. Tension only grew when they crossed the mushroom forest and entered Lemarea to be greeted by the still warm body of a diamond dog. Worry for the fillies quickly turned to horror as the group encountered more and more dead diamond dogs, and patches of unexplained blood.

All culminated in the carnage through which they now passed. Bodies were burnt, torn apart, smashed, and strewn about in haphazard lumps. Places held only shadows burnt into stone, while others contained bits of bone, flesh, and gore dripping down the walls or from the ceiling.

Applejack had seen much in her time serving Equestria, and before that life on a farm engrained certain fatalistic qualities, but even she recoiled in horror.

Iridia hardly seemed to notice all the death, or that her fetlocks had been stained a bright red from all the blood. Crimson streaks ran down her cloak like teardrops.

“All this is under your home?” Soarin asked, a nervous twitch in the corner of his mouth. “Why would you build here?”

“Thornhaven was a gift from my sister. As you can imagine, Faust never does anything without reason. It was because of these ruins she selected Thornhaven’s location.” Iridia ran a wing down a cracked column. “Had I been aware the ruins were infested with these things, I would have cleansed them myself years ago.”

Bodies gave way to the final, grand hall, and then a dead end. Slowly, the group spread out, inspecting the area for any sign of the fillies. Iridia silently inspected the doors that lead nowhere. The queen bent down after a moment, and picked up a long, silvery-black crystal. A hard lump rested in Applejack’s stomach. Around every pile of rubble, behind each column, she expected to find her sister’s body. There was only momentary relief when the girls remained missing.

“Where are they?” Applejack demanded, looking around the rubble strewn between the giant doors. “Where are my sister and her friends?”

Instead of answering, Iridia asked, “You taught your sister to pray, Lady Apple?”

Applejack gave a stiff nod, “Aye, we honour Celestia, like Granny Smith taught us.”

“Hmm, that won’t do. I need them to pray to me.” Iridia made a slight clicking noise at the back of her mouth. “Celestia tunes out her prayers. Not that I blame her. You try having millions of voices vying for your attention. I have far fewer to sift through. My Halla are, thankfully, not all that prone to prayer, and finding the resonance of a pony among their toneless chants is as easy as finding a vibrant rose in a garden of daisies. No, we will require my sister if we are to track the girls down.”

“Faust?” Soarin asked, coming up beside Applejack. “But, nopony has seen her since—”

“I have ways of finding my sister,” Iridia interrupted Soarin with a raised hoof, then pointedly looked at Applejack. “Thanks to you, actually.”

“Me?”

“Yes. You are the Element of Honesty, meaning you are tied to my sister as one of her champions. A tiny portion of her powers was bestowed upon you when the Element chose you. I can follow that to my sister. Mind you, there is no guarantee she will let us catch her. She will know we are coming. With your permission…”

Applejack stepped closer without hesitation. “Do what you got to so we can find my sister.”

Iridia gave a motherly smile, and touched her wingtips to Applejack’s temples. At first nothing happened. Applejack felt a bit silly, standing there with Iridia leaning over her. She was about to ask if she needed to do anything, when there was a yank in the back of her throat, and she found herself on a brightly lit balcony overlooking a foreign skyline. Dry, dusty wind filled with exotic spices and warm vibrance blew over her face.

An inarticulate voice made her turn, and she saw her; Faust, relaxing on a chaise lounge as she cuddled with a very grumpy looking stallion. Faust stopped what she was doing, and looked right at Applejack.

The vision broke, and Applejack was back in the ancient, buried great hall.

“Zebrica, I should have known.” Iridia tutted as she retracted her wings. To the Halla, she commanded, “Return to the castle and prepare a proper expedition. I will lead it myself when I return with the fillies. Until then keep a sharp watch. There is no telling how many Diamond Dogs remain in these warrens.” Then she wrapped a bubble around the ponies as she teleported them towards the distant lands to the east.

Author's Note

For a while I contemplated putting this chapter in the Anthology as a side-story. Given how important the developments and some of the revelations, it had to be here in the main story.

Book Two: Chapter Twelve: Hope

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duty and Dreams
Chapter Twelve: Hope

Gilda took a deep breath to steady her pounding heart. Her wings ruffled against her side, betraying her tumultuous feelings. A slight breeze wobbled the little boat, making her dig her talons into the wood. Over her shoulder, she glared across the still lake to where Zubu stood with the coppery, bare-skinned Phoenicians on the other bank. Her master made a shooing gesture with his mangled leg.

Extremely displeased with the entire situation, Gilda turned back to the small, round temple that occupied most of the little island at the heart of Phoenicia. Grabbing the oars, she continued towards the short dock. Her skin crawled, and her beak ached just being near the island. The air pressed down on her as if covering her in heaps of thick blankets. She could barely move and had to fight to suck in each breath. Every instinct she possessed, every fibre of her being, screamed to escape. This was a place mortals should avoid.

The jolt of the boat bumping into the dock sent an electric current through Gilda.

Her magical senses were on fire. Zubu’s training had attuned her to the true nature of the island. There was a being of unbridled power on the island, one who cared so little about others, or was ignorant of the effects of her magic, that her magic saturated the entire city. Along the narrow streets carved into the sinkholes rim there was a sense of the otherworldly, akin to a ghostly tapping at the base of the skull. On the island, it was like swimming through a soupy morass, cloying about the limbs and dragging along the brain.

Forcing herself up the aged stone pathway, Gilda prepared herself for the worst.

Each step contained a tiny torture. The pressure grew worse, until she was certain she would suffocate. On the temple’s threshold, Gilda paused. The weight of the very air was electric against her skin, and her wings felt like they were on fire.

Drawing on Zubu’s teachings, she channeled enough magic to push against that which permeated the air. Her next breaths came a little easier, and it was no longer like she was wading through a swamp of despair. Preparing herself, Gilda moved out of Sol’s light, and into the murky temple.

Instead of some great being presiding on an imposing throne, she found only a great heap of feathers. Clicking her beak, she looked deeper into the temple, wondering if she had missed something. Other than a few aged frescoes of Faust, the feathers were the only thing to be seen.

“And another supplicant is sent,” a voice intoned in a whisper that boomed through the temple.

Jumping back, heart racing as a cold chill swept over her, Gilda gaped as the feathers shifted, the slight part opening to a shadowed abyss, and a single eye. Terror unlike any Gilda before experienced clawed through her being, left her trembling with despair, and her sanity frayed at the edges.

She was an intruder, a blight in a place sacred and unknowable. Whatever was beneath the pristine wings was of someplace else, someplace old, more ancient than the stars, sun, or disc itself. Gilda understood the stories of unicorns who peered too deep into the nature of the cosmos and became gibbering mad-ponies, their psyche shattered by whatever they saw. Before her was such a secret, and her mind reeled with the impossible knowledge.

“What are you?” The question slipped from Gilda, fell from her tongue absent her bidding.

Nothing was said. Nothing needed saying. The answer was unmistakable, smashing over her like storm blown waves; Death.

Beyond simply the ending of a single life, rather, it was the end of all things. Cities, worlds, and all existence. The true ending to the great cycle. Even the gods.

Gilda scrambled from the temple. To stay was to invite insanity.

At the water’s edge she spread her wings and flew the rest of the distance back to where Zubu waited with Phoenicia's elders. They watched her approach, mouths agape, and eyes wide with shock. Fear transformed into anger, a burning armour forming against the insanity scratching at the edges of coherent thought. Panting, Gilda landed in front of the group, and they all took a step back. A few dropped their hands to knives on their hips, or tightened their grips on their spears.

Staring down the High Priestess, Gilda spat, “There. I passed your little test.” Before she could finish speaking, Zubu’s staff hit her soundly between the ears, setting her head ringing and stars sparkling before her eyes.

“You didn’t need to enter the temple, silly apprentice! Only approach it!” Zubu snapped, his words warbling in Gilda’s ringing ear.

The humans were far more impressed, and spoke to each other in hushed voices.

“The only other person to enter the temple, and emerge again, was Laramet, Goddess of Love,” said the High Priestess in a revenant whisper. Her face shone with awe, and she dropped to her knees, hands raised to the heavens in prayer. “All else lost their minds. You are god-touched, to have survived such an encounter intact.”

Gilda was brought up short, unsure exactly how to respond. She muttered a short, questioning thanks, and ran her tongue against the roof of her beak.

Turning to her master, the High Priestess said, “Very well, Zubu, we will read the fortunes of Ol’ Firemane’s Weave for you and discern the Empress’ goals. Afterwards, we will discuss what to do next.”

“Excellent!” Zubu beamed, setting off with the High Priestess towards her home. He slowed enough to gesture for Gilda to follow, then sped up to a brisk limp, Orenda riding on his back. Even the kitsune looked impressed and smiled at Gilda.

Heart still racing, skin electric, Gilda followed at a more sedate pace. Without anything to be directed against, her anger began to waver, and the fear creeped into the void created. For once, she had no acerbic words. A couple times she stopped, and stared at the temple on the island, and repressed a great shudder.

Pinkie’s enthused squeal, followed by a heavy thump upon her back, woke Twilight shortly after noon.

“Wakey, wakey, sleepy heady,” Pinkie said between bouts of bubbly giggles. “Today is exploration day! We finally get to explore the city. There are sooooo many new zebras to meet. There will be apothecaries and bakers and confectioners and dancers and entertainers and fences and glass spinners and hospitaliers and investment bankers and jailers and khans and lamplighters and midwives and newsies…”

Having long since tuned out her friend, Twilight yawned as she wriggled out of bed and made her way to the washroom to freshen up. Pinkie bounced along beside her, continuing to rattle off professions, while Twilight went to the sink. She had to reach down to splash water over her face and marvelled a little at her reflection as she combed her sparkling mane. Her features were longer, far more reminiscent of the princesses, than they’d been when she’d started her journey. Everything was longer, taller, sleeker. Her legs, her body, even her wings seemed to still be growing. Twilight hesitated to say she was beautiful, mostly as it was an adjective she placed on others, notably Rarity, Fluttershy, or her cousins. As had been the case since her Awakening, not a single strand had been put out of place while she slept. Brushing her mane remained, however, part of her routine, and routine was important.

From her bed stand Twilight retrieved her locket. Next to the locket rested a slender tiara, still in the brown box within which it had arrived. A letter, only half read, was pushed down the side of the red velvet padding. Twilight frowned at the tiara and letter, both sent by Iridia, and then shoved them both in the dresser.

“Right!” Twilight proclaimed after adjusting her locket so it sat a little more comfortably. “Ready for another day.”

“Well, afternoon,” Pinkie corrected, throwing open the curtains to show Sol already perched directly overhead. “Dashie isn’t even up yet. So, you beat her at least!”

Giving Pinkie a deadpan glare, Twilight grumbled something about stars, the night, and staying up to ungodly hours sitting on clouds. Stars that, apparently, refused to listen, several still twinkling up in the blue afternoon as they darted around Sol. Running a hoof down her face, Twilight ignored the small constellation. Dealing with an angry sun and belligerent stars first thing in her effective morning was low on her priority list. After coffee and eating she’d scold the rascals and offer profuse apologies to Sol.

Stepping from her chambers, Twilight quickly forgot about the misbehaving stars as she was confronted with a far more pressing problem. Prostrating themselves before her, two zebras in flowing golden gowns blocked her path.

“Oh, what now?” Twilight rubbed away an exasperated pinch between her eyes. “How long have you been here?”

“Since last night, your Divine Highness,” they said softly. “Her Imperial Majesty commanded us with your care, and are here to provide you with anything you require. Name your desires, and they will be fulfilled to the best of our abilities.” There was a sincerity to the pair that verged on unsettling.

“They are great, Twilight,” Pinkie exclaimed as she bounded from the room over Twilight. “You have to try out your happiness helpers! Rocky gave me the best hoof massage ev-ar, and Rumble is amazing at charades. That is what I call them, because Zebras names are so hard, and I feel bad whenever I mess up the ‘æː’ sounds. Or is it ‘ɑː’?”

Stone faced, Twilight wondered if she shouldn’t have dealt with Sol first, after all. The burning weight of the sun’s anger was paltry compared to the growing exasperation surrounding her.

“Fine, just show me to breakfast,” Twilight grumbled, unwilling to argue before coffee.

Evidently pleased by the reception, the pair of hoofmaidens led the way. They said nothing as they made their way through the guest wing. Twilight took the opportunity to inspect the palace, and found it to be as expected. Other than a slight difference in decorum, it was much the same as Canterlot Castle, or any other palace Twilight had seen. Perhaps a little closer to Everfree Castle before it had been destroyed and left as ruins by the War of the Sun and Moon. There was just a little bit more showiness and ‘strength’ as opposed to the ‘elegance’ of Canterlot Castle.

Gold paneling, emerald drapery, and marble floors covered in thick, plush rugs were everywhere. Nooks filled with various artifacts prevented monotony from setting in, along with modern style paintings.

Beyond Twilight and her party, there were groups from Hackney, Prance, and even Neighpon. The guest wing of the palace devolved into a mad-house of swirling servants, chatting foreigners, and frenzied activity as a result. Twilight’s own quarters, being the most secluded at the end of a private branch of the wing, were the quietest. Nearing the sea of bodies, she slowed, took a breath, and then turned around as she directed her hoofmaidens to find an alternate route. Pre-Coffee Twilight did not do crowds.

As they were going down the narrower, but far more empty, servants passage, Twilight detected the voice of Luna ahead. Speeding up at first, Twilight came to a sharp stop just before an intersection when she heard Algol. Signaling the others with her to be quiet, Twilight pressed herself against the wall, ear cocked to catch every word.

“It has been an age, Princess Lullaby. Little lyrical Luna Lullaby, lavender licks lewdly lain on her love. Or, so you wished. I have a message from her, you know. Been meaning to pass it along for fifteen hundred years. Meaghan—”

“Never speak her name,” Luna’s voice was soft, and so much more terrible as a result.

Breath hitching in her throat, Twilight tasted malice and pure hatred flow from her cousin. She’d only experienced such a coldness once before; when Luna was in the throes of madness, readying to charge Twilight and put an end to any hope of returning the day. Somehow, this was worse. At least there was the excuse of the Nightmare being an insane tyrant. Luna was… Luna.

More than most, Twilight saw through the chilly exterior Luna wore as an armour. Luna’s loving heart, the secret warmth she enjoyed when watching Her Little Ponies, few ever realised. Twilight heard none of that Luna as she listened.

Evidently, Algol failed to understand just how near she approached danger.

“Why?” Algol flippantly laughed, “I was not the one who sliced open her alabaster flesh after despoiling her pretty little body. The screams! The pleading! The laughter of the Tarkanians, drunk on wine and her exotic beauty, blood flowing, glowing darkly yellow from battle! So much vibrant black, it was like staring into a folded abyss! Even I was appalled. But then again, I have a soul, twisted and misshapen as it may be. The Soulless are so named for good reason. After that night, I understood better why you were so peachy-orange towards their kind, and purple-red towards ponykind. You were right, and I wrong to dismiss them out of hoof. Such a shame their civilizations were exterminated by Discord.”

Twilight was dumbstruck, fixed in place by the cruelty so casually displayed. Worse, Algol sounded so… happy! Not the cruel, sadistic sort of happy of Nightmare Moon or Leviathan, but the innocent pleasures of a foal who never learned the difference between right and wrong, who found it impossible to know when they were hurting somepony else.

“What does dueling Fleur gain you, Algol?” Luna’s voice was even more clipped, sharp against Twilight’s ears.

“So much, and so little.” Twilight could hear the shrug that followed. “You’ll have to wait and see, just like everypony else. I will not give you golden answers. The first of June, you have until then to make the hesitant blue pony ready for our duel. A short reprieve, as matters red and ghostly white draw me away.”

Hooves drummed a swaggering beat as Algol left. Twilight waited a few seconds before she went around the corner, followed by Pinkie and the hoofmaidens. Luna stared off into space, deep in thought that remained unbroken until Twilight cleared her throat almost in her cousin’s ear.

Through a forced grin, Luna greeted Twilight, and almost at once excused herself. “You’ll have to go on without me, Twilight. Fleur needs my guidance more than ever.”

Unable to fully contain her disappointment, Twilight put on a brave smile. “Is there anything I can do to help? Algol is a fallen star. Maybe I could talk to her…”

“That is a terrible idea.” Luna said quickly. “Avoid that mare at all costs.”

“But—”

“No! Trust me, nothing positive can come from interacting with her. If it would do any good, I would kill her again. Algol is worse than a cockroach, and refuses death. Or, perhaps it refuses her.” There was a heaviness to Luna’s voice, ancient memories weighing on her. She grew colder, sharper, gaze burning with a winter storm’s fury as she stared off into the past.

Twilight tried to give Luna a hug, but Luna shied away. Wings drooping, Twilight asked, “What do you mean, ‘kill her again?’”

Luna shook her head. “I will tell you later, perhaps. For now, there is no time to waste on useless words,” she said, and then took her leave, marching off at a brisk pace.

Staring after her cousin, Twilight sighed, and wrestled with the helpless knot building in her stomach. The knot remained all through breakfast, leaving her food tasteless, and conversation a dull warble in her ears. Pinkie tried her best to cheer Twilight, going on about all the amazing places and tourist attractions to be explored. Twilight did her best to humour Pinkie, putting on a brave front, when inside she was conflicted.

Zebrican meals were group affairs, more akin to cafeterias, rather than the private rooms common within Equestrian and Old Queendom palaces. The only time the large hall quieted was when royalty entered or left, everyone standing so as to be able to then bow. Twilight’s cheeks darkened a little receiving such unearned treatment. At the head of the hall waited the Empress’ table, perpendicular to the rest of the tables, and slightly raised so all could see who sat with the empress. Twilight was brought to this, empty, table, along with Pinkie, and served by a flowing tide of waiters.

Nearing the end of her meal, with two warm, stout cups of coffee resting comfortably in her belly, she was approached by the Empress. Every eye in the hall already firmly affixed on her, Twilight squirmed under the intense scrutiny. There was an expectant hush, as if at any moment some great event would occur. Instead, Maatsheptra and her daughter sat down to have some spiced curry bean sauce served on a thick flatbread; a traditional Shalian zebra lunch.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Your Majesty,” Twilight said through a relieved smile. “We have to stop this duel, somehow.”

“Impossible.” Maatsheptra replied at once. “If of us were to intervene, it would cause great damage. Were I to prevent the duel, it would be seen as a gross intrusion into the personal honour of my closest advisor. The plots against me would triple overnight. Should you whisk Fleur and Rainbow away, the budding relationship between Zebrica and Equestria would be dealt a crippling blow that would last years. None of the nobles in my court would retain any faith in Equestria acting as a fair and equal partner. Sadly, at this point, even a very public and sincere apology by Lady Dash would prove insufficient. Algol was challenged, insulted in front of her peers, and her position has always been one viewed with envy and suspicion. Any perceived weakness will be seized upon by her many enemies, and that would result in a bloodbath.”

Twilight’s spirits fell as she listened. “Nothing can be done, then?”

“Not anymore.” Maatsheptra shook her head. “It is the great irony that with all our phenomenal powers, yours beyond anything mortals could imagine, we are utterly powerless to prevent all pain.”

Flinching, Twilight stared at her empty plate. Celestia always maintained some level of control over any situation she found herself, no matter how dire. Utterly powerless was a concept Twilight would never be able to ascribe to her cousin. Yet, it seemed more and more true of Twilight herself.

Supposably one of the most powerful being on the disc, and what had she done? Assisted Faust in putting Leviathan to sleep. As a regular pony she’d done so much more! Battled mad gods, brought ruin down on an invasion, tamed the Ursa Major and Ursa Minor. Yes, the Elements of Harmony had assisted in two of those, but she’d done all the heavy lifting to reach Nightmare Moon and Discord without the artifacts.

A growing part of her wondered if she was meant to be doing more. Months wasted traveling by ship, only to have Faust and Celestia teleport back and forth across the disc, undoing the whole reason for Twilight’s lengthy voyage.

Twilight avoided thinking of southern Prance, and the consequences for Faust’s actions there.

“Today I will show you my city,” Maatsheptra said, bringing Twilight out of her ruminations. “Zerubaba is the oldest of the traditional Mara cities, dating back to before the overthrow of the griffons. History and myths run deep in her foundations. I am certain you will find it all fascinating.” Maatsheptra smiled sweetly, utterly relaxed, all formality cast away once seated.

Waiting for the empress to finish her lunch, Twilight tried to ask about Algol, but each time she was thwarted by Maatsheptra speaking first, usually asking about aspects of Equestrian life, or Twilight’s family.

“There is nothing more important than family,” the empress declared as she finished eating. “For us mortals, they imbue us with a small measure of immortality, carrying the hopes and dreams of those came before into the unknowable future. You will get to meet my daughter’s daughter’s daughter, and see in her some small fragment of me. But, come, let us view the city as it is today, so you may have fond memories of it in a century or two.”

With this the empress stood, and rigid social hierarchy was restored. She lead Twilight to the main courtyard, where a series of carriages waited to convey them through the city. Pinkie bounced off ahead, and into the crowd milling about the carriages. Nobles from Prance and Hackney argued over who should get to ride in the Imperial carriage with the empress and Twilight, while the contingents from Neighpon, Roam, and Zbori watched with faint amusement. Rainbow leaned against a nearby pillar, Maatsheptra’s son nattering away beside her. Lost mostly in thought, Rainbow muttered every now and then a non committal response to the young prince.

“Yes, in a few years I will get my ifrit—and it will be a Noble of course, just like Lord Halphamet’s Shaleh—be a chief among the Dahkrit, and I will secure my empire against all my enemies. I will destroy the dragon-lords with my fire, and—”

“Dragons are immune to fire, kid,” Rainbow said around a yawn. She pushed herself off the pillar as Twilight passed, and swung in beside her friend. “They swim in lava, are a hundred times our size, have scales hard as steel, fly faster than a storm’s winds blow, breath fire, and the old ones even use magic. You can’t do anything against a dragon. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

Not to be dissuaded, Taoshetra puffed out his chest. “That is why I will have my Dahkrit distract the beast and tear off a scale from its breast so my lance will strike true its heart. I will carry its horde in a great procession, and—”

“Twilight, want to ride with me and Pinkie?” There was just a hint of desperation to Rainbow’s voice as she called to her friend. Her intent was obvious; to fill the carriage so the blustering prince had to ride in the other carriage.

Her efforts were premature, as Taoshetra thrust out his little chest, lifted his nose so it shot up into the air, and marched up to the empress. “Take me with you. I need to see the city I am to rule.”

“No,” Maatsheptra said without pause. “You have magic lessons at 1, make-up lessons on arithmetic at 3, and then combat training with Lord Halphamet after dinner. Should you have wished to join us today, you should have attended to your tutors instructions with greater diligence, like your sister. Come, Hattmettren, you will ride with the Stars and I, and tell Her Divine Highness all the history you have learned about our great city.” To one of the guards, she then commanded her son be escorted to his chambers.

Pouting, face puffy with indignation, Taoshetra was lead away, and the royal party gathered into a single carriage. Flanked by Pinkie and Rainbow, Twilight peered out the windows with keen interest as they pulled out of the palace, lead by a procession of imperial guards.

After a brief interlude where places were sorted out in the carriages, Twilight and her friends went with the empress and her daughter, while the dignitaries from the other nations were placed into the remaining carriages.

As they rolled out of the palace grounds, Hattmettren spoke at great length about the three tribes of Zebras. Much like Equestria had its Earth ponies, Pegasi, and Unicorns, Zebrica was comprised of the Shali, Mara, and Zebenese. Unlike among ponies, the physical differences between the tribes were minute, and indistinguishable to outsiders. It was their cultures that set the groups apart. While the Zebenese were semi-nomadic in nature, guided by their shamans, and the northern Shali eked out an existence in the harsh frontiers, the Mara were great city builders and traders.

Though she’d learned all about the history of Zebrica from Fleur, Twilight listened to the princess with most of her attention. A portion of her mind remained on the task of stopping the duel.

Hattmettren’s knowledge of the city was extensive, almost encyclopedic, and reminiscent of Twilight on subjects of magical theory. Little by little, she was drawn in by the history of streets, districts, buildings, and the famous names or events that marked each place.

Some of the stories were fascinating, such as the Faustian monks who came to spread the lessons of the Book of Names, in 787, and were promptly captured, branded as heretics by the Shali priests. Mara warriors who’d befriended the monks rescued a small number, and brought the survivors to Zerubaba, where they built their monastery. The monks were later all killed by poison placed in their well, their monastery now a holy site for the Mara.

The aged, yellow sandstone building showed in clear delineations where it had been upgraded or repaired over the centuries from its humble origins, with just a small chapel and few outbuildings, to a wide temple surrounded by gardens, work sheds, and a villa for the resident priest and his herd.

Next, they went down a wide market street where the Zebenese hero Ramses the Golden had grown up as a pauper. His mother had been poor, blind, and died when he was young, leaving him to fend for himself. His father was a renowned rogue, a brigand with a band known as the Galloping Hordes of a hundred and one swords. Fate threw Ramses into the path of his cruel and selfish father. With the assistance of an ifrit, Ramses beat the Galloping Hordes, and rescued the single daughter of Zerbubaba’s sultan, winning her heart and the crown in the process. He went on to become one of the greatest kings in all zebra history. Many monuments stood depicting the royal couple, as they built several temples and expanded the city’s control further up the river valley, all the way to the river’s fabled source. He was also the founder of the Dahkrit, of which he was the first and mightiest to ever live.

As they approached the Tamil Tahree, Maatsheptra shifted sides so as to sit beside Twilight. The empress herself pointed out the grand temple, leaning close as she spoke. Twilight was aware of a startling warmth coming from the empress, and the spicy scent of fragrant incense and myrrh. Her heart gave an anxious flutter at the sudden proximity. She grew stiff, rigid with uncertainty on how to act.

The grand temple, and final resting place of Samala the Liberator, the Tamil Tahree’s polished copper dome and spired minarets loomed over the old temple quarter. Green hedgerows lined crystal blue ponds fed by hundreds of spouting fountains. Long legged pelicans bathed in the pure water, and swifts darted from tree to tower, and back again. Stray dogs lounged in the shade, ears hardly twitching as the carriage with its imperial guards rolled pass.

A change overcame Pinkie as they entered the temple grounds. Her mane drooped, and the sparkle faded in Pinkie’s remaining eye. Uncertain what could be causing her friend’s discomfort, Twilight reached over to hold Pinkie’s hoof. At Twilight’s touch, Pinkie lurched out of the carriage before it rolled to a complete stop. She glanced around once, ignored the nobles and dignitaries exiting the other carriages, and rushed off through the prostrating crowd.

Calling after her friend, Twilight jumped down, followed by Rainbow, and then their hosts. In the sea of monochromatic bodies, Pinkie was easy to follow, if not catch. She dashed up Tamil Tahree’s steps, and into the temple, drawing mutters from the assembled mass. Senses tingling that something was very wrong, Twilight gave her wings a hard flap to launch herself over the crowd.

Inside Tamil Tahree, Twilight found the typical solemn silence that permeated the temples of Equestria, and something more. An undercurrent flowed through the wide, open area that was familiar, yet disconcerting. The air tingled across Twilight’s tongue, and danced over her skin in electrifying currents. Her heart ran fast against her breast, and she felt as if she’d just had her first kiss again. With a sharp shake of her head she cast off the sensations.

Free of debilitating physical reaction, Twilight followed the current to their source. She was confronted by a large casket of jade and gold. Intricate reliefs hid detailed enchantments intended to ward off any who’d dare disturb the tomb. On the lid, carved from the same single block of jade, lay the lifelike image of Samala.

Her features were both alien and familiar. Twilight was strongly reminded of her herd-mother, Whisper. They had the same sharp, sunken features, reclusive pinch to the eye, and thin lips. A proud, overbearing countenance was also present, one Twilight never saw in her studious, shy mother, breaking the similarities. Also different, were the broad wings wrapped over Samala’s carven body.

From within the sarcophagus Twilight detected… something. She had no comparison to begin to parse what she sensed, except perhaps the strands that bound her to the stars, only the resonance was wrong. With a start Twilight understood. Samala had been a Valla, a fallen star. There was literally a tiny piece of Twilight in the sarcophagus, reacting and resonating to her own presence.

Looking up, Twilight was about to say something to Pinkie, certain this was what had drawn her friend, when she saw it.

Pinkie stood on the other side of the sarcophagus, and before her loomed the flowing, sparkling pink form of a shade.

Breath hissed through Twilight’s teeth. A single bounding flap of her wings and she stood between Pinkie and the fallen Gaean alicorn’s ghost.

“Are you alright Pinkie?” Twilight asked as she studied the shade.

It seemed oblivious to her presence, attention wholly on Pinkie alone. The energy of the tomb acted like a camouflage, masking the shade, making it hard to sense even with it right in front of her. Though close enough to reach out and touch the shade, Twilight only detected a slight alteration in the air, lesser than that given off by the tomb itself. If she weren’t staring right in front of it, Twilight would doubt it was there at all.

“Just a little droopy, but that’s because she needs my smile more than me, right now,” Pinkie said in an almost monotone voice. Devoid of her usual bounce, it sent a chill down Twilight’s neck.

Whatever the shade was doing to Pinkie needed to be halted.

“Stop what you are doing to my friend, right now!” Twilight’s commanding voice cracked through the otherwise silent temple. Still, she was ignored. Out of the corner of her eye, Twilight saw Rainbow edge around towards the shade’s back. A shake of her head told Rainbow that it was a bad idea to attack the shade. Frowning, Rainbow ignored Twilight’s warning.

A soft whump told Twilight that Pinkie had slipped to her haunches. Glancing back, Twilight was shocked to see Pinkie’s lustrous colour had faded to a dull peach tone.

Summoning her magic, Twilight snapped, “I’m warning you—”

“Hope,” spoke the shade in a voice pulled from a place beyond the boundaries of the disc. Lifting a smokey hoof, the shade indicated the temple, and then Pinkie. Again, it rattled, ‘Hope,” and a bubbly gasp came from Pinkie, a small amount of colour returning to her coat.

“I’m okie-dokie, just a little less pokie, Twilight,” Pinkie said, pulling herself up with Twilight’s help.

Behind the shade, Rainbow remained ready to pounce.

Her own guard still raised, Twilight asked the shade, “Why are you here?”

The shade regarded her for a long moment, then said in a tumbling rush, “Astraea. Hope. Stars. Dead. Secrets. Vengeance. War. Trap. Wrath. Dreams. Wisdom. Hope.” The shade whipped around the temple, then back to Twilight. “Madness will claim the Stars, and Astraea will fall again. The last apprentice meets the Knights of Harmony. An empire crumbles and the lost dreamer's spite reaches fruition. Sister slays sister, and wrath is unleashed. The dead call a titanomanchy! No! Wrath is released… Her chains broken… The skies bleed, and Ioka begins to die. Open the gateway of dreams. Dreams. Dead. Wisdom; Hope. Ioka dreams, or Ioka dies.”

Energy spent, the shade settled around Samala’s tomb, and, if Twilight did not know better, fell into a deep slumber.

“Oh, come on! More prophecies?” Twilight threw up her hooves with an exasperated growl. “And this one is just gibberish.”

“Yeah, but at least it didn’t do anything too crazy,” Rainbow commented as she approached, a cautious eye on the resting shade.

Sarcasm dripping from her, Twilight said, “No, it was only feeding on Pinkie’s spirit, and using her as a living shield!” A disgusted ripple went down her back, through her withers, and into her wings. “I am so tired of you girls being in danger because of these Geaen alicorns. Pinkie, how are you feelings?”

“Much better,” Pinkie grinned, colour returned to her cheeks, and eyes bright with barely restrained laughter. “She was hurting and needed my smile more than me. I’ve never given a smile quite like that, though. It was all… cold. And lonely.”

Shaking her head, Rainbow supported Pinkie and acted as a guide back towards the carriage. Twilight stayed behind, staring at the tomb, and the shade coiled around the lid. Something needed to be done about the shade, the last one loose on the disc. Dealing with the Geaens comprised at least part of her reason for coming to Zebrica. She still had to ask about where the last alicorn mentioned in Maatsheptra’s invitation was located. Unless, this was what she meant.

Cryptic messages, dreams, visions. Tyr, Fleur, Astraea, Shyara, Rarity, Fluttershy, Rainbow, Applejack, and now Pinkie; so many ponies lives upended, and those were just those close to her. Twilight’s head swam to think of the misery and suffering permeating southern Prance, and the small role she played in the destruction. All from a fight that should have been avoided. Twilight had so much power, and accomplished so little for all her vaunted status as a goddess.

No answer on what to do with the shade presented itself. There was no clear and present threat. Yet, it struck Twilight as the height of naivety to think that it would remain dormant, a fox sleeping in a hen coop. Her sensibilities recoiled at just attacking when there was no remaining provocation. By Pinkie’s own admission, she was trying to help the shade of her own free will. Anypony else Twilight would have assumed there to have been some form of coercion involved that she’d failed to detect. With Pinkie, it was impossible to rule out that her friend sensed the shade’s distress, and voluntarily gone to help.

“It is difficult, oft times, to make these decisions,” spoke Maatsheptra. The empress came up beside Twilight, and watched the shade with a calculating gaze. “I had Algol and my Dahkrit bring her here, rather than have such a wild entity wandering my country, terrorising villages and towns.”

“You placed a shade in the middle of a city instead?” Twilight’s mouth fell open at the seeming inconsistency of logic.

“This shade is drawn to places, objects, or souls that bring Hope. For zebras, there is no site which sings to my subjects hearts more than Tamil Tahree, resting place of the mare who cast off our chains and set our hearts free. Make no mistake, I do this not out of any sense of compassion or obligation to the shade. You alicorns brought this plague upon my empire, and so I enticed you here so that it may be resolved, rather than put into a temporary cage.”

“Wait, you brought me here to deal with this?” Twilight’s head snapped around, a frown firmly etched onto her features.

Maatsheptra gave Twilight a gentle laugh, smiled, and waited.

Infuriated, put on the spot, and sick to her stomach at the blatant manipulation, Twilight didn’t respond at once.

“It is difficult, oft times,” Maatsheptra hummed, as if talking to herself, “to make these decisions. What does a leader do when they see a threat to those they must protect? More so when it is but a potential threat, one dormant, waiting, circling like a shark. Should you act? Can you afford to wait? What then does this say about you? Are you still a good pony if you hurt others simply because they might harm somepony else? Or has the moral high ground been ceded, lost, no matter the necessity. These questions haunt us mortal leaders of nations and cities. How much more they must weigh when it is the affairs of the gods, and the entire disc, or even the cosmos themselves, at risk.”

“Did you understand anything it said?” Twilight asked, already certain Maatsheptra had been listening the entire time. Her stomach grew tighter, the knot more tangled.

“Educated guesses only, I am afraid. Gleaning knowledge from this entity will be difficult I fear, as she exists in a state out of sync with the disc.”

Twilight released a noise from the back of her throat, caught her lip between her teeth, and tried to come to a solid conclusion as to what to do with the shade. She was trapped between two terrible outcomes; do nothing and risk the shade hurting somepony, or attack the sleeping, wounded creature. At such times, Twilight wished she had Fluttershy’s guidance.

“Well, I guess I could at least seal this place so nopony disturbs her, and so she cannot run off. Hopefully, Celestia or Luna will know what to do. I’d ask Faust… but, that seems like a bad idea right now.” Twilight sighed, and gave an involuntary twitch.

Faust had to know of the shade, and the fact she’d done nothing either indicated she wasn’t worried, or that she trusted Twilight to deal with the situation.

Lavender-White aether flowed along her horn, built at the tip, and then expanded in a bubble to the walls with their carved murals. The shade shifted, jumped from the tomb, and issued a long hissing moan. With a feline bound, it prowled around the growing edge of Twilight’s barrier.

“Your Majesty, what is going on?” called Hattmettren from the temple’s entrance. The princess stood highlighted by Sol’s golden rays, head tilted and a slight pinch to her brow as she shifted her gaze from her mother to Twilight, and then the shade. The glimmer of curiosity morphed into fear as the shade spun towards her.

With a beastial, primal howl, the shade lept at Hattmettren. Eyes held wide, mouth frozen in a shrill scream, the princess stood frozen with terror in the growing shadow of the pouncing shade. She tried to scramble back, hooves slipping on the polished marble, scream turning into a pleading whinny.

Twilight reacted with the speed of a thunderbolt. With one spell already underway, she called on another, instincts honed through a dozen adventures guiding the formula. Hattmettren barely began to raise a hoof in a feeble attempt to fend off the shade when she vanished, switching places with Twilight.

Accustomed to the cold, darkness, and disorientation of blinking, Twilight braced herself to meet the shade. Ethereal limbs struck her on the shoulders, and drove her backwards from the temple with shocking weight. Together they rolled down the wide steps. At the bottom they bounced once. Still following the dictates of honed instincts, Twilight twisted in midair and kicked her hind legs. The muscles along her back and wings flexed with divine strength, thick sinews rippling in adamantine strands. Ancient marble shattered from the power of her kick, and the few clouds in the skies where scattered by the force of her wings snapping out.

Knocked prone, the crowd watched in fascination as Twilight and the shade landed a second time. Shade pinned beneath her, Twilight experienced a surge of primal, physical strength. It took almost no effort to contain the struggling, screeching shade, it's ephemeral form kept solid where she gripped it.

Crystalline veins and flesh manifested in the shade, spreading from where Twilight made contact. Writhing like a python, the shade coiled up and around Twilight. A choked grunt lodged in her throat, Twilight planted her hooves as she strained against the shade’s own exceptional strength, fueled by the same primordial essence and vigor inherent to the gods. Young, newly ascended, Twilight began to pull the shade away, the vitality of a goddess in her prime so much greater than that of one fallen and incorporeal. Atop that, Twilight was the Goddess of the Stars, a being of the physical realm, and not something as intangible and shifting as Hope.

In that struggle, Twilight understood why nopony ever dared confront Celestia in a contest of raw strength. Not only were there the vast, oceanic reserves of raw aether able to fuel spells or aura, it filled every molecule of her physical being, muscle, bone, sinew and skin in the manner of the Earth ponies. A brief, flitting thought wondered if this was how Applejack always felt.

With a mighty yell, Twilight slashed her wings, and cut the shade in half. Screams of rage turned to pain, and fear, as the back half of the shade dissipated, evaporating like dry ice on a sunny day. Curling into a ball, the shade stared up at Twilight. Expressive eyes formed, pleading for mercy, filled with more than just fear, but a nameless terror. Intelligence shone in that gaze, pure intellect of a freely thinking entity, rather than some wild beast.

Somehow, that made the shade’s attack all the more unforgivable. An animal acted only as nature proscribes, whatever Fluttershy may believe otherwise. What Fluttershy did held magic to tame animals, a nurturing aura latent to her alone, and tied to her cutie mark. Special. Unique. Exceptional.

The shade’s fear abated, as Twilight loomed over it, and then melted entirely.

“Hope,” it said a final time. With a heavy crash like storm fueled waves on a seaside cliff, the shade collapsed in on itself.

Twilight blinked, and reared back in shock. Before her lay a blue diamond of incredible size and flawless clarity in the rough shape of a heart. Even uncut it sparkled with intense refracted light, and something like a pulse. Tentatively, Twilight picked up the gem. From it she detected the essence of the shade, dormant as it slept in a dreamless fog.

“There are insufficient words in either of our languages to fully convey my gratitude, Princess Twilight, for saving my daughter,” Maatsheptra said as she descended the damaged stairs. “You have saved that which is most precious to me, and secured the future of my empire. Gifts of unequaled value.”

With a sweeping gesture, the empress of Zebrica bowed, and with her bowed her guards and a crowd of thousands. Twilight’s chest swelled, and she felt a little worthy, perhaps, of the mantle of the stars. Rainbow stomped her hooves in applause.

Pinkie alone didn’t join in the celebration, a concerned droop to her mane.

Unnatural stars shone over Sweetie. They moved in slow motions, tracing a long arc across a velvetine expanse. She’d watched the stars for the last hour, unsure of exactly what she was seeing. Rolling her head show’d the stars setting to one side, and rising in the other in mocking mimicry of the sun and moon.

Moving caused a wave of nausea to sweep through her. Her stomach clenched as searing agony filled her every fibre, from the tip of her nose to the end of her tail. Fighting back a dry heave, she trembled and waited for the sky to stop spinning. Hooves clicking on stone warned Sweetie of somepony’s approach before the nausea passed. She tried to sit up and reach for her sword, only for her stomach to churn harder and her magic to sputter in the stale air.

“Don’t move,” Apple Bloom admonished, swooping down to help prop her against a wall.

Sweetie blinked a couple times, working her mouth with a dozen questions that croaked in her dry throat.

“And try not to talk,” Apple Bloom added, lifting up a cup of some sweet smelling liquid.

Greedily, Sweetie guzzled the offered drink, and found it to be some sort of cider. A refreshing warmth flowed down her throat, and settled in her belly. Far too quickly the cup was emptied, and no more was offered.

“W-Where are we?” she managed to ask.

“Well, we’re not too sure.” Apple Bloom put on a brave smile. “We seem to be in a cellar vault.”

Peering through the slender light cast by the oddly moving stars, Sweetie perceived a large, circular chamber, of sorts. Iron gratings divided the room into cells, blocking off parts of the room. Boxes, chests, and heaps of copper coins filled one of the sectioned off areas, while the others were empty. The area they were in contained a table with a few gold coins, a scale, and abacus atop a thick ledger.

As she looked around, Sweetie was startled to notice that the pinpricks of light were given off by her Marlantian sword. The aurichalcum blade shimmered and shone with flowing lines of aether, like rivers of brilliant hues on a dusty red landscape as seen from the top of a mountain.

Pulling it closer with a careful aura, Sweetie drew comfort from the sword. She couldn’t continue to simply call it ‘the Marelantian sword’ any longer. A name jumped into her head almost at once.

“You are my Durandel,” Sweetie said to her sword. Pulled from legends told by Rarity as bedtime stories when their mother was away on a voyage, it struck her as somehow fitting name. “Just like the sword of Rolanda the Gallant, first among Queen Palladium's Paladins.”

Apple Bloom smiled from where she watched over Sweetie. Like this, they sat for a little while. Sweetie heard more than saw Scootaloo. Crates and rusted gates opened and closed with unconcerned bangs as Scootaloo explored.

“You think Shyara is okay?” Apple Bloom asked, her voice low and hopeless.

Sweetie refrained from shrugging and instead said, “I’m sure of it. You saw her growing, right? I mean, one moment she was a filly like us, the next she’s almost an adult. How is that possible?”

“Well, remember when Cadence and Luna told Twilight that she’d change after becoming an alicorn? Maybe finding their cutie marks has the same effect?” Scootaloo suggested from somewhere nearby, but her voice held little conviction.

“Shyara has a cutie mark?” Sweetie blinked a couple times, and tried to recall if she’d seen Shyara’s mark. She had a vague recollection of their being something on the filly’s flank, but when she attempted to remember the mark, it slipped out of her grasp.

“She’s the Goddess of Secrets, of course she has a mark. It’s a… something, in a something. It’s hard to see because it keeps trying to hide itself.” It was Apple Bloom’s turn to shrug. She then poked Sweetie on the flank, and mischievously said, “She’s not the only one with a mark, you know.”

It took Sweetie a few moments to process Apple Bloom’s meaning. Aches forgotten, Sweetie shifted around to stare at her bruised flank. There, still glimmering a little with the magic of its emergence, proudly stood her cutie mark; a musical note over a five pointed star, all contained within a shield.

Sweetie grinned, and then laughed, throwing her hooves around Apple Bloom in a crushing hug. Happiness, relief, and so many other emotions swelled in her chest. After so much searching she had her mark!

“There’s no way out of here,” Scootaloo declared, emerging from behind a crate. One side of her face was puffy, a large bruise spreading beneath her coat, turning orange into an ugly mulberry. Releasing Apple Bloom, Sweetie cringed. Scootaloo grinned, revealing a gap in her smile where she’d lost a tooth. “Pretty wicked huh? Not as bad as what happened to you though. I’m kind of jealous. I just hit the corner of a box when we arrived. Box got the worst of it, of course.”

Scootaloo gave a half-hearted chuckle that trailed off when nopony else joined in her dark humour. Sitting down, her armour jangling softly, she stared off at the door. Sweetie followed her gaze, eyes flitting over the large steel bars and mechanical workings of the locks. The door itself was solid metal.

Sweetie’s eyes widened. Stale air. A vault door. There was no fresh air coming into the room.

“We have to get out of here,” Sweetie gasped, her voice faint, as if coming from over a great distance. Scootaloo gave a lopsided nod, while Apple Bloom just smiled.

“I know,” Apple Bloom mumbled, words a little slurred. “But, unless your sword can cut those locks, it looks like our adventures are over.”

Sweetie stumbled towards the vault door, Durandel responding to her desperate desire to live. Blade glowing with molten hues, it struck the mighty door with a soft clang. Rather than bounce, as all logic dictated it should, Durandel burned brighter, and cleft the locks as if they were made of wax. Steel ran in glowing rivulets where the marelantian sword cut.

Falling onto her side, physical strength waning, Sweetie groped at the door with a sputtering aura. Next to her, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo wrapped their hooves around the spokes. Scootaloo slipped, banging her chin on a bar, and flopped next to Sweetie. Bracing her back legs, Apple Bloom heaved with all her earth pony strength. Slowly, the door swung open a few inches, just enough for fresher air to waft over the gasping fillies.

“Worst. Adventure. Ever,” Scootaloo wheezed, first to recover her breath. “If we get out of this, I am going home, and never complaining about aunti Holiday and Lofty’s fixation on crochet again.”

“Well, we’re still alive.” Apple Bloom tried to sound upbeat, but there was little humour left in her.

Rising to her hooves, Sweetie retrieved Durandel, and pried the door open wide enough for them to get out. The stony corridor beyond was lit only by flickering torches, tainting the air with the stench of burning pitch. Staying close together, the trio cautiously left the vault. They found their way blocked by a set of iron bars, a locked door at their center. Durandel cut the bars, and then grew dull, magic depleted, once more as it’d been when Sweetie found it in Lemarea.

Going slow in case there were any Diamond Dogs near, the crusaders made their way out of the cellars and into wide, lofty halls. Old banners broke the monotonous stone, and decorative swords and shields were placed on the walls. Narrow windows let in streams of sunlight, and a cool breeze. After the grandeur of Lemarea, the halls seemed drab and dull. Unlike Lemarea, they were not forgotten ruins, but lived in and well kept. Voices echoed from ahead, and mouth watering smells wafted across their noses.

The clank of mail and metal boots on stone drove them into hiding. Darting behind a tapestry, they waited with bated breaths, hearts hammering in their chests. Sweetie dared to peak as the patrol passed, and was surprised to see a pair of griffons in polished armour. A hungry shroud hung over the griffons as threatening as that exuded by the diamond dogs. Revealing themselves to the griffons would be bad.

Wetting her lips, Sweetie glanced left and right to make certain the hall was again empty before she darted over to the windows. She stared down onto a dry, dusty land, the sweep of a cliff giving way hundreds of hoof lengths below to jagged, rocky slopes.

A deep, gruff voice jolted Sweetie from her thoughts. Swinging around, she saw a griffon, a servant of some sort she guessed from the burgandy vest he wore, pointing at her as he spoke in a language she’d never heard before.

“Oh, come on,” Sweetie sighed. Her eyes connected for a brief moment with Apple Bloom’s, and then she turned and dashed down the corridor, leading any pursuer away from her friends.

Shouts followed after her, alarms beginning to ring soon after as the castle leapt to life. From every direction came the stamping of soldiers moving to repel an intruder. A door at the end of the hall burst open as guards sprang forth. Sweetie ducked aside and through the nearest door, not caring where it took her. She simply had to lead her pursuers far away from Apple Bloom and Scootaloo so her friends could stay hidden. There was a moment where the guards hesitated, looking to each other for confirmation of what they were seeing before giving chase. Sweetie sped as fast as she could on three legs up a narrow set of stairs intended for servants. Ignoring the first landing, she made her way up to the second and shoved her way out into another corridor.

Here, servants squawked and darted out of her way, marvelling at her until the guards appeared. A tall window of grimy glass waited at the end of the corridor of narrow doors. Without pause, or thinking what might be on the other side, Sweetie leapt up, catching the drapes in her good hoof, and smashed through the thin glass. Burgundy cloth billowing about her, Sweetie began to plunge towards the all too distant ground.

With a sharp thwap, the drapes grew taught, and Sweetie swung back towards the castle. Another window shattered just as the guards leapt into the sky after her, wings spreading wide and keen eyes searching for the fleeing filly.

Bouncing roughly, Sweetie felt the stitches in her shoulder tear open. The room spun about her before, her legs refusing to move. Gathering all her will, she commanded her battered body to stand, forcing through the exhaustion closing in around her. Breaths coming in ragged growls, Sweetie searched for her next escape route.

She was confronted by a tiny dark blue filly half in a frilly white dress, head cocked to one side in curiosity. Sky blue mane done up in intricate braids highlighted her horn. Wings stood out defensively, and slowly began to relax. The filly’s griffon hoofmaids stood shocked on either side, frozen in the act of dressing their charge.

“New friend!” the filly cried, leaping out of the dress to wrap her little hooves around Sweetie’s neck, and bear her to the floor with a muted thump. Bubbly giggles erupted from the filly, her wings giving excited flaps. “Why come through window? That’s silly.”

Sweetie lay frozen, unsure what to do until the filly was pulled off her, replaced by talons against her throat. Guards rushed into the room from every direction, the sky outside the windows dark with their wings. Durandel was snatched from her side, and she was hauled up and from the room, back hooves dragging in the confusing whirlwind. Blood running down her side again, head spinning from the exertion, Sweetie didn’t fight as she was taken to the throne room.

Tossed down at the base of a worn set of steps, she hardly had the energy to lift her head to glare at the griffon king.

He was an older griffon, grey around his eyes and beak, with a commanding bearing. Plush robes of imperial purples and golds clung to his still fit frame. His every movement was precise, like he belonged in a gladiatorial arena and not on a throne of carven stone. Beside him rested a gilded scepter on a velvet cushioned stand.

A guard brought him Durandel, the king inspecting the sword with keen interest. Running a talon over the razor sharp ridges of the hilt, he let out a long, pleased chuckle. His attention then shifted to Sweetie as the guard was waved aside.

The king spoke in a deep, rumbling voice in a language Sweetie never before heard. He tried again, this time in Prench, Sweetie recognizing only a few phrases.

“What about Equestrian?” He then asked, displeasure beginning to show. “Or, are you mute, child? Ah, no, Equestrian it is,” he said, noting Sweetie’s reaction. “Tell me, assassin, who sent you? Certainly not Celestia. She has another, far more potent, tool than some filly.”

“Nopony sent me,” Sweetie said, unsure whether to laugh or sigh at the accusation. She pushed herself to stand straight, to show strength and carry conviction in her words. A slight wobble in her legs, and quaver in her voice gave away her fatigue. “A series of unfortunate events brought me here, and nothing more.”

“Oh? That is disappointing. I am uncertain whether to believe you or not, especially when you went right to my precious youngest daughter’s room, and threatened her life.” As he spoke the alicorn filly entered from a side door, lead by the griffon queen.

Taking her throne next to her husband, the queen held herself with regal poise. An image that was quickly ruined when the filly leapt up onto the throne and wriggled around until she was ensconced beneath a protective leg.

“Tell us, Talona, how the pony attacked you,” the king commanded, giving his ‘daughter’ a doting smile.

Grinning, Talona excitedly told the court how she’d been getting dressed—that the dress was far too frilly and uncomfortable, and she hated it and wanted a new one—when there was a whole bunch of shouting and running about outside—which was all much more exciting than putting on some stupid dress—and then a guard told the maids that there was an intruder and to be extra alert—she should have been allowed to go look for the intruder, but the maids said ‘no’, and she doesn’t like that maid anymore—then the window went ka-smash and a strange filly was knocking her over and then the other guards showed up and took the filly away.

Still grinning after her hurried, rambling explanation, Talona pointed Sweetie, “Can I keep her? I need a new hero after losing Blinky and Gilly.” Her eyes went huge, lower lip puffed out in the strongest of pouts.

Cooing loudly, the king cried out, “How can any father so ‘no’ to such a cute face!? Of course you may have her. Call the slave-binder, he has work to do. Have this one properly branded and broken. Oh, and search the castle for her friends.”

Sweetie’s protests were choked off by iron hard claws grasping her by the throat to drag her away. Smug on his throne, the king wiggled his talons at Talona, and laughed as she playfully batted at them like a cat with a ball of yarn.

Book Two: Chapter Fourteen: Sweetie Belle and the Song of Death

Myths and Birthrights
By Tundara

Book Two: Duty and Dreams
Chapter Fourteen: Sweetie Belle and the Song of Death

Cool, refreshing water splashed over Fleur’s face, running in soapy rivulets down her neck, back, and flanks. A weary tremor ran up exhausted legs, and Fleur leaned against the marble tiles for support. Through her snowy coat glowed deep burgundy bruises, attesting to the week of relentless training spent under Princess Luna’s guidance.

An outstanding warrior, the very origin of the knight romanticised throughout pony history, Luna was everything Fleur had wished to become when she’d been a filly. Her lessons were blunt, honest, and well practiced. How many others had Luna trained over the centuries? Hundreds? Thousands?

Fleur wished she were ten years younger. Maybe then there would be time enough to prepare to fight Algol. As it was, Fleur could barely consider herself a novice. Without Athena, defeating Algol was far beyond a dream, and even survival flitted further and further out of grasp.

“Au moins, je rembourserai ma dette,” she sighed, twisting the taps to cut the flow of water.

Wincing as she patted down her coat, Fleur barely had energy enough to lift the towel, let alone use the normal beauty spell to dry herself. Putting her mane up in a bun rather than comb it, Fleur left the bathroom.

She was greeted by Timely on entering her room, the doctor waiting next to an open bag of tonics, tinctures, and bandages. There was a distinct note of displeasure every evening when he tended to her.

“This is utter madness,” he grumbled, prodding her to find the worst of the bruises.. A few of the new ones on her shoulders really stung, both received when Luna had flipped her sidelong across the training hall. “I can’t fathom a mare so heartless as to bait Lady Dash into a duel, nor you being so foolish as to stand in her place. And for it to be allowed to continue! The princesses and empress should have put a halt to this long ago.”

Fleur sighed, and stayed silent rather than rehash an argument they’d had every night since the challenge was issued. He knew that she was trapped, and so was Rainbow. After such a public offence, even if Rainbow issued a string of apologies Algol never could have accepted without losing all her standing in Zebrica’s court. Even in Equestria, where duels were thankfully extremely rare, peacefully avoiding the duel without anypony losing face would have been difficult.

“Sadly, I will not be there to put you back together,” Timely continued, for once treding onto new ground. “Hardy received orders by curiculum only a few hours ago to make all haste back to Equestria. The ship is in a flurry; refilling the water, recalling the shore parties, boats plying to and fro, everything is rush, rush, rush and damn you lazy sods. I’m to report aboard the moment I’m done here and give Princess Twilight my leave.”

A quip about Timely being relieved to escape on the Bellerophon danced onto Fleur’s tongue, and was promptly bitten back. Their acquaintance was insufficient for such a personal jest.

After he was done, they bid each other a fond farewell, with promises of reconnecting in Canterlot. Only a few minutes passed before there was a knock, and a pony from Fleur’s foalhood appeared.

A tri-colour mane of white-red-and blue bounced in discordant ringlets down the mare’s short neck. Her fleur-de-lis cutie mark was nearly identical to Fleur’s own mark, but where she had three golden flowers, the mare had but a single, large version. There was little humour or joy in the mare’s large, brown eyes.

“Noblesse?” Fleur very nearly gaped, a twitch of surprise briefly crossing her face. She quickly regained control of her emotions, or at least their outward expression.

Very briefly, a small smile tugged at the newcomer’s mouth. “Mi amie, come se va?”

“Bien,” Fleur replied, with little conviction. The still visible bruises, and pungent aroma of the doctor’s salves spoke volumes of the truth. “What are you doing here?”

Noblesse was an agent of the senate, tasked with insuring the interests of the senate, and to a slightly lesser extent Prance herself, were met in foreign lands. Many would consider Noblesse a ‘spy’, but her talents aligned more along the lines of information brokering, and maneuvering other ponies to her advantage.

“The senate is furious with Equestria,” Noblesse explained, taking a slow turn around the room, eyeing every corner and curtain with equal suspicion. “And with you. When the senate needs you most in Canterlot, here you are traipsing around Zebrica, playing at being a knight.”

Fleur’s stomach fell, and she silently cursed. She’d been so wrapped up in her own problems, the question of what happened to Prance never crossed her mind. Now that the idea was presented, a whole cascade of associated thoughts tumbled through her. Only her secretary remained in Equestria. A decent stallion, but hardly somepony who could be said to possess a talent for the intricacies of negotiations. The senate would be demanding answers, the curiculum burning frequently as letter were sent back and forth across the ocean.

These were far from the worst thoughts. Fleur imagined the valleys, forests, and grassy hills of her homeland after a fight of similar scope to what she briefly experienced on Marelantis when Amon attacked her. A shiver rippled up her back, the memory of his horrific face as he tore at her soul sucking the breath from her lungs.

“How much damage did Faust cause?” Fleur asked, almost wishing to receive no answer.

“Faust?” Noblesse tossed up a brow, and snorted. “The reports I’ve received say it was Celestia who attacked Prance. Nopony can figure out why, however, and this has been causing even more confusion. For nearly a month now it has been a flurry of letters. Requests for information going unheeded. When I saw you at the reception for Princess Twilight, I was shocked, and relieved. It explained why communications have been so jumbled. It has taken the senate over a week to return my missives and give me orders. Do you know why Princess Celestia would attack Prance?”

“Celestia? Non, Ce n’était pas elle qui avait attaqué!” Fleur said in a rush. “She was there, oui, but it was Faust who was in battle.”

Summoning a servant to bring tea, Fleur bid Noblesse to sit while she recounted everything that had happened since discovering she was host to Athena’s spirit. She spared no detail, whether great or small. At the start Noblesse wore an amused smile, like somepony listening to the tall tales of a foal. Quickly the smile melted, replaced with a contemplative frown.

Noblesse listened quietly as Fleur recounted the encounter with Leviathan, the battle at Marelantis, and the rescue of Faust from the Queen of Envy. She leaned closer as Fleur reached the events of the night Celestia appeared on the Bellerophon, with Faust barely clinging to life. The night and day spent in such anxiety, and then Faust’s death, and subsequent rebirth thanks to Twilight.

When she was finished, Fleur waited for Noblesse to respond. Her friend was silent, eyes closed as she considered all she’d heard. At last she asked, “Where do your loyalties lay, Fleur?”

Taken aback by the ludicrous question, Fleur didn’t answer at once.

“With Prance, always,” she spoke with quiet assurance. “But, I consider these ponies as friends. Lady Dash saved my life on Marelantis, and I must repay her.”

“Even if it means ruining the potential for an alliance between Prance and Zebrica?” Noblesse leaned forward, a hawkish gleam in her eyes.

“Pardon?”

“Having our ambassador to Equestria killed by the Empress’ oldest advisor, or vice versa, will have consequences. I know you too well, Fleur. You are no fighter, while I have been in Zebrica long enough to see Algol in two other duels. She is going to kill you.”

Bristling a little, Fleur huffed, “Princess Luna has been helping me avoid that outcome.”

There was little conviction in Fleur’s voice. She knew her chances were slim, at best.

“You mean to throw your life away over a matter of an Equestrian’s pride? You are the answer Prance requires! The destruction of southern Prance has been a stark reminder that ponies are nothing to the alicorns, and Celestia has been luring the disc into a false sense of security.” Noblesse slammed her tea down with a porcelain clatter. “Don’t you see? You have the power of an alicorn in you! You could restore Prance to her rightful place! If you can access this power again, nothing would be out of your reach.”

Fleur shook her head sadly, heart sinking in her chest. “Whatever power I had was borrowed from Athena, and she is gone. Now, the best way I can serve Prance is by showing Equestria that we hold no grudge for what happened to our lands.”

Noblesse snorted and abruptly stood. She calmed quickly, and released a long, rattling sigh through her nose.

“This is a very dangerous plan, Fleur,” Noblesse moved towards the door. “I have no authority to tell you what to do, just, be careful,” she added before leaving Fleur to her thoughts.

Alone, Fleur found her heart and thoughts tossed into a flurry. Finding it impossible to settle, Fleur paced back and forth through her room, ruminating over everything said. She wished Timely was around. His council had proved invaluable during the outward voyage. Through her window, she gazed down at the Bellerophon, the ship in the process of rousing her anchors. In a few minutes she would move into the outer roads and there await the last of the shoregoing party before setting sail with the evening tide.

Further off, Fleur could just see through the miasma the white towers of sails for another ship. From the way she slanted, this ship was already tacking westward. Without a telescope, the ship’s pennant was indistinguishable. But a glance down at the harbour lead Fleur to suspect it as being the Princess Platinum, a large gap now between the Santa Isabel and the shore where she’d lain at anchor.

The oddity of seeing four ships-of-the-line from warring nations at anchor side-by-side was over. All too soon, Fleur suspected the Prench and Esponya ships would likewise be on their way, the diplomats they’d been carrying conveyed.

It was strange, and a little off-putting, that Fleur had yet to meet any of the other ambassadors. Certainly, her role in Zebrica was strictly un-official, as Noblesse had reinforced. But, they should have been in similar social circles. Except, Fleur’s time since the initial galla had been absorbed by preparations for the duel.

The damned duel that never seemed to come.

Fleur’s tail snapped with irritation.

Deciding to go for a stroll rather than continue stewing in her room, Fleur marched off without a clear idea of a direction. She followed twists and turns at random, mind still going over everything from the time she’d been possessed by Athena. Falling into older memories, a dopey grin grew as she thought of Fancy Pants. How her husband would hardly recognise her now! She’d changed so much in the past couple months.

Lost in memories, Fleur didn’t realise she’d wandered into the unfinished wing of the palace until she almost tripped over a bucket of hammers and chisels.

Shaking off her dazed thoughts, Fleur looked around, and realised she was now lost in the physical sense as well. Backtracking a little ways gave no indication how to return to the guest wing, and there were no zebras about to ask directions. There was a stillness to the air, a heavy weight of being somewhere forbidden.

Biting the side of her cheek as she tried to decide how best to get back to the proper wing, Fleur heard a rattle, and hooves scraping on stone. Darting to the side, Fleur stepped into a darkened room. A few crates stood stacked to one side, while most of the room plunged into shadow, a narrow beam of golden light extending only a short distance from the door.

Shame at hiding like a filly caught with her hoof in a cookie jar burned on her cheeks. Hiding was preposterous, and stupid. She had no reason to hide. Yet, the thought of being caught made her heart race, and ears flatten.

Peeking through the door, Fleur waited for the zebra to pass. And waited. And waited.

Brow pinching in consternation, Fleur muttered a Prench curse and started to poke her nose out of the door when chains rattled just behind her. Yelping, Fleur spun and dropped automatically into a defensive crouch.

“Are you real?” Asked somepony in the gloomy depths, chains rattling again before a startling pretty soft blue face emerged into the light cast through the door. Violet eyes flitted over Fleur, desperation and despair in equal measure lighting their dark cores. Locks of tussled, violet and black mane tumbled around angular cheeks in a haphazard frame. “Or are you another spectre of madness?”

Cautiously edging a little closer, Fleur took note of the thick iron chains bound to a collar and manacles around legs and large wings. The mare’s wings hung limp, as if it were too much effort to fold them against her sides.

“Who are you? Why are you in this… prison?” Fleur asked.

“I may ask you the same questions.” The mare’s eyes darted over Fleur’s face again, and then widened. “Wait, I know you! Yes, Fleur de Lis, heir to Athena’s battered throne. I was there at Marelantis, and watched over you after Leviathan’s defeat and the mistress returned me to my sisters. We spoke what seems an age ago on the Bellerophon. You were one of the few ponies who could hear my sisters and I. Besides the mistress, of course.”

Fleur’s mouth went dry, and she considered the mare further.

“Who are you?” Fleur asked again, her tone softer, more suspicious.

Fanning her very large wings, the mare sighed, and said, “You would not recognise me, though we have met before. I am Sirius, the Firestar.”

Nothing could have been more shocking. Yet, there was no hint of deception, the mare’s simple, plain expression conveying that she spoke with certainty. Before Fleur could formulate her next set of questions, a familiar sing-song voice filtered through the door.

“My sister,” Sirius hissed. “Hide! She must not discover you here.”

Looking about, Fleur darted behind a tarpaulin covered crate. Pressed deep in the shadows between it and the wall, she had a slim view of the door and Sirius. She held her breath, a slight tremor working its way through her legs.

Algol skipped into the room on light hooves, a plate of waffles balanced on her head. With a casual kick she shut the door and dropped the plate onto the table next to Sirius. Thick dust covered her, large puffs coming off her with every step, and a shake of her head sent up a cloud of sand. A heavy scent of saffron and spice tickled Fleur’s nose, almost making her sneeze.

“Hello, dear sister, I brought you food.”

Sirius snorted, and knocked the plate off the table.

Sighing, Algol picked up an egg roll. Between bites, she said, “You need to learn eat. You will waste away otherwise. We are only demi-immortals. Our magic will keep us alive, but alive and healthy are far apart. Trust me, my words are gold.”

“Why, Algol, why are you going through all this trouble? Why keep me a prisoner?”

“Trouble? Hardly.” Algol rocked with low sniggers. “As for the ‘Why’, do you really want to know? Should I lay out in golds and blacks all my plans? Monologue for you? Perhaps in the form of a song? Some grand aria? No, dear sister, that would be pointless. So… smoky and thin and colourless. No point at all. You still wear the chains of our so-called ‘mistress’, while I strive to become free.”

“The only chains I see are these,” Sirius shook her wings in a rattling song of iron links binding her in place.

Rolling her eyes, Algol tapped an impatient hoof. “There are so many different sorts of chains, dear sister. Chains of iron, chains of silver, chains of the heart, and chains of the soul. What—”

The clatter of a workhammer falling over filled the room with a dreadful din. Fleur stood, petrified, glancing over her withers to the hammer she’d nudged with her tail. Spinning back, Fleur found herself nose to nose with Algol, the demonstar grinning like a mad-mare.

“It isn’t time for our duel, yet,” Algol cooed, and patted Fleur on the cheek with a wing coated in shadowy aether. Sparks burst before Fleur’s eyes, and the room spun about her. In the final moments before darkness swept over her, she heard Sirius calling out her name, then nothingness.

For a brief time Fleur drifted through a hazy mist. Somepony kept repeating her name, over and over, but from where Fleur could not tell. Light surrounded her, grabbed in a warm embrace, and for a brief moment the mists parted to reveal a sunlit Gaean temple. Just as quickly the mists closed in around Fleur again, and the warmth departed, leaving her cold and alone.

With a start Fleur jerked her head upwards. Her eyes stung as if sand had been poured in them, and her neck was stiff from sleeping at an odd angle. Sunlight streamed through the curtains of her room, setting off a sharp throbbing pain in the base of her skull. Groaning, Fleur cupped her head in her hooves, and tried to make sense of events.

The last thing she remembered was speaking to Noblesse, followed by… nothing. She wasn’t even certain of the day, how she’d gotten into bed, or anything else between then and now. Just fragments of images, sounds, and smells such as a hallway, the scent of saffron, and a brief chilly darkness.

“What was in that tea?” Fleur groaned, and sucked in a hissing breath as words proved to make the pain burn fiercer, like oil being poured into a fire.

A warm shower only moderately helped. The tinctures the doctor had left behind marginally more-so.

Her head was down to a mild throb by the time Princess Luna swept into the room. “Come on, Fleur de Lis, the dueling grounds await. I hope you are rested enough, as you will need every ounce of strength and all your wits.”

Mouth suddenly dry, Fleur felt even worse than when she’d awoken. She took a long, sad look around the room, gaze settling on Aegis and Pallas, the shield and spear unmoved from their place next to the bed. Setting her shoulders, resigned to whatever Fate had woven into the weave for her, Fleur followed Luna towards the colosseum.

Gilda stood at the edge between golden plains and shadowed jungle. The delineation was perfect, straight, like some titanic creature had swept a line across the land and decreed that each should be on one side and never meet. Damp, earthy tones of decay and savagery blended with the warm spices and dusty dryness rolling across the Savannah.

A gentle breeze swept over starlit grasslands, and illuminated the tops of the solitary trees dotting the land. Even at night, it was possible to see further across the Savannah than most other lands, the miasma thinner than in many other places. To the north-west the campfires of an army encampment could be seen among the flat grasslands. In the far distance to the east she could just make out the edges of Kilagriffjaro. Between them glimmered the lights of villages and towns.

“He is asking for you,” said Phoenicia's oracle, the woman melting out of the jungle to stand beside Gilda.

Nodding, Gilda slipped back into the jungle. She made her way between the three dozen phoenician warriors who’d all volunteered to escort Gilda and Zubu to the jungle’s edge. Their faces were as expressionless and unreadable as ever, yet, Gilda detected a tenseness in the air, a pregnant weight like the moment before a plunging dive.

A short way inside the jungle lay their camp, an unhappy hollow sheltered by towering trunks and vine veils. There, at the heart of the hollow, lay Zubu on a bed of moss with a blanket of soft fronds. Around him curled Orenda, chin resting on his shoulder. Her ears perked up, and she gave Gilda an unusually somber look.

Gilda hovered at the hollow’s edge, her heart a tempest of clashing emotions. She’d known Zubu such a short time, yet he’d marked her deeper than nearly anypony else.

As she watched his chest heaved with a rattling sigh, and for a heart rending moment Gilda thought him gone. He gave a wheezing cough, and Gilda sighed with relief. He was not yet dead.

Stepping to his bedside, Gilda said, “Master, I have come.”

Zubu’s milky eyes flitted open, the sight at last gone from them both. He searched for her, but could not see. Feebly, he reached instead with his good hoof. Gilda clasped it in a talon, and there was only a little strength left in his grip.

“Sorry, apprentice, Zubu is unable to finish your training. So much left to teach, and so little.” He tried to crack a grin, but it was twisted with pain. Teeth grinding to control the pain, he took a shallow, steadying breath. “You have a choice to make. Continue down vengeance, or find something better.”

“We’ve been over this before, you old mule,” Gilda replied. There was no meanness, but a playful, sad lilt to her voice as she fought back the press of emotions in her throat. “Someone has to get Talona away from those griffons.”

Zubu let out a bark of laughter that turned into a cough. “Has never been about that filly. Knew her less than a day. About your cousin. About Blinka.”

Gilda did not argue. It would have been a futile gesture, and he needed to conserve his strength.

“Well, I’ll have you there to make sure I do the right thing,” Gilda gave his hoof a tight squeeze, and refused to let go.

“No, this is where my journey ends.” Zubu laid back, and slid his eyes shut. “No great battles or sacrifices. Just an old body finally giving way to nature. How all should end. Zubu, the wise and ancient, is content.”

He was silent for several minutes, chest rising and falling with ever more shallow breaths. When he next spoke it wasn’t Gilda he addressed. “Orenda, my oldest friend. Go to Zecora and Sephra. They will keep you safe until you can find a new partner.” Weakly, Zubu brushed his hoof over Orenda’s cheek, and she let out a sad mew.

His eyes drifted shut, and with a soft, final sigh Zubu sank into the bedding.

Arching her entire body, head lifted to the stars, Orenda released on unearthly sound that was neither howl, nor was it a scream, but something more terrible to hear. The kitsune’s soul tore where Zubu had been bonded, and this she conveyed to the disc in an agonized lament that seemed to last for ages. When it ended Orenda vanished, the kitsune entering the misty Winterlands as she started the next stage of her journey.

Gilda’s own expression was as stone, even as her heart pounded against her chest. Every instinct screamed for her to do something. But, there was nothing to be done.

So passed the last shaman of Zebene.

A rock twice her size crashed down next to Sweetie, just a few inches from her head. Laying on her back, sweat streaming down her face and flanks, she hardly had time to contemplate the near miss. With a burst of youthful strength, she rolled to the side before the second such rock crashed down where she’d been.

Deep shadows fell over Sweetie as her attacker flung himself high with a beat of strong wings. In his talons he clutched the haft of a short spear, the head some distance away where it and her gladius had been flung moments before the griffon’s partner began hurling stones at her. Manacles around the griffon’s wrists and ankles rattled as he flew towards Sweetie.

Bounding to her hooves, she snatched up her borrowed short, broad sword in a deep aura. It blazed to her side in a steely flash. Yelling with anger through building exhaustion, Sweetie struck the griffon on the jaw with the flat of her blade. Beak and bone broke in a sickening thwack. Sliding with the griffon’s momentum, the rough edge cut a long gash down his jaw and shoulder. Hot blood splattered over Sweetie’s face and blinded her. Falling into a writhing heap, the griffon clutched his face.

Steaming in the chilly mountain air, Sweetie spun towards the last griffon, swiping the blood from her eyes with the back of a hoof. Only half-blind, she made out the glint of approaching steel. She intercepted his spear a hair’s breadth from her throat, twisting and driving the sharp head into the damp earth. Steel rang, and then there was a wet squawk followed by a heavy thump as her blade pierced the griffon’s belly. Talons clutching at innards threatening to spill across the dirt, the griffon squirmed in a rapidly growing pool of blood.

Breaths coming in long, laboured wheezes, Sweetie staggered a few steps, then slumped against her sword, using it as a brace to prevent her from falling over. From the shadowed sidelines emerged Apple Bloom and Scootaloo, the pair darting towards Sweetie. They made it only a few strides before being yanked backwards off their hooves. Around their throat glowed red slave collars.

Behind her friends, the slave-master smirked through his broken, disfigured beak. His single eye gleamed with cruel humour, and his dark tongue darted as if he were part snake. Corpulent and callous, he was only the second most hated ‘pony’ Sweetie had ever met.

“Good, now finish them,” The slavemaster commanded, indicating the wounded griffons with a wave of his slaving rod.

With but a word he could activate Sweetie’s slave-collar, filling her with sharp pain as muscles spasmed and magic was sapped. More than the lash, Sweetie feared the use of the collar.

Wearily, Sweetie went towards the griffons. She said nothing. Felt nothing. She made herself hollow. They looked up at her with pleading, broken gazes, begging silently for mercy. There was an odd peace about her as she placed the sword to the griffons’ chests, and then leaned on it to plunge it through flesh and sinew.

“Good girl,” the slavemaster purred, gesturing with the rod at Sweetie.

Around her horn glowed an iron band, and her magic was suppressed. A gasp burst from Sweetie and she driven to her knees as if a mallet had struck her horn. Grinning at her suffering, the slavemaster slid the rod into a loop on his harness. Scoffing at Scootaloo and Apple Bloom as they writhed and dragged their hooves across their collars, he gave the word to end their torture. Sauntering into his warrens, the slavemaster barked orders to other slaves to clean the mess.

The other slaves rushed to follow the commands, taking away Sweetie’s gladius, and dragging the bodies towards a cart stacked with other dead bodies. Southstone had no shortage of new slaves as her armies expanded ever northward, pillaging the lands of the other airies. Those Sweetie killed were easily replaced.

Bouncing between Apple Bloom and Scootaloo, Talona let out a pleased squeal. She wore Scootaloo’s armour, resized even smaller to fit her tiny body. Durandel bounced along at her side, the end of a new, jeweled scabbard thumping with each step against the ground.

“Yay! I was right! I knew you were a good champion,” Talona grinned from ear to ear, heedless of the dead griffons.

Talona was Diamond Tiara, if she was also two years old, and had a love of blood-sports.

Sweetie didn’t respond, only inclining her head in the slightest of bows that would be accepted. She eyed Durandel, and yearned for the strength to wrench it free. Wobbling on her hooves, ready to collapse, Sweetie said, “If it pleases your Divine Highness, I need to recuperate, or I won’t be anypony’s champion much longer.”

The words grated in Sweetie’s mouth, spilling from her as if they were gravel, though they sounded pleasantly respectful. The punishment for being disrespectful still burned across Sweetie’s flanks where she’d been whipped for previous snarky responses.

Behind Talona, the slave-master scowled, and his talons twitched towards the many-headed whip attached to his flanks.

Frowning a little, Talona whined and shook her head. “But, I wanna see you fight!”

Through his sneer, the slave-master let out a short, shrieking laugh. Waving to a couple skinny, battered creatures to come forward, he said, “Don’t worry, princess, I’ll make sure these ponies put on a good show for you.”

Sweetie’s breath hitched in her throat, and in that moment she knew she was going to die. Barely able to stand, still sore from the wounds taken in Lemaria, with newer bruises and cuts added on top, it was impossible for her to last more than a few seconds against even the most abused and weak slave.

She was saved by the ringing of a gong, signalling the start of court. Ears perking up, Talona let out a pleased chirping sound, as though she was a griffon herself, and said, “Ooo, have to fight later. I need to judge the bad griffons.” And with that she skipped out of the slave-pens and into the castle.

Not waiting for any contradicting commands, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo helped Sweetie from the arena and to the little closet of a room they shared in the servants quarters. Barely large enough to fit their cots, with a door of thin wood that did little to keep out the cold, there was no comfort or privacy.

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo moved quickly, and silently, the former binding Sweetie’s newest cuts and anointing bruises while the other used a bucket of water and rough bristle brush to wash Sweetie down. When they were done neither lingered, and hurried to return to Talona, lest the filly grow upset at the absence of her latest toys.

Secretly, Sweetie was glad her friends weren’t around. Sweetie pressed deep into the lumpy straw mattress, eyes pinched tightly shut as she fought back the images of the griffons’ final moments. Tears sprang down her cheeks, running in thick streams as she was overwhelmed by surging melancholy. She hated being alone, having nopony to turn towards for a simple hug, but also despised the idea of anypony seeing her in such disarray. Or knowing what she’d done.

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo needed her to be strong. Resolute. Unwavering in her devotion to keeping them safe and sane, even as the disc seemed so utterly mad and uncaring. Later there would be time to mourn her innocence, and the lives she’d stolen.

A furious hoof swiped away the tears, and with a growl in the depths of her throat, Sweetie forced herself to rest. Who knew when Talona would next demand to be entertained.

Dreams washed over Sweetie. Turbid, shifting, unsettling dreams. Ghostly faces emerged from falling muddy sheets; Rarity, diamond dogs, griffons, and others dead far longer. They screamed at her. Howled and clawed. Sweetie had no defence against their onslaught. She weeped, and begged forgiveness they would never grant. Quickly the dreamscape shifted as a small bird darted from between ghosts.

Sweetie turned away from her tormentors, and followed the bird. Darting between trees, the bird alighted on a branch over a crystal smooth pond. Cautiously, Sweetie approached.

Two versions of herself gazed up at Sweetie from the pond.

The first wore an innocent smile, Cutie Mark Crusader cape draped over her back, and eyes bright with hope. Her bouncy mane was expertly maintained by her loving sister and doting father. There was a brightness to her, a jovial laugh and skip to her step.

Beside her was a filly who at first seemed identical, except she was worn and haggard, with mane cut short and eyes cold, hard, and mirthless. Her mouth was pinched tight, as if smiles were some foreign luxury heard of only in stories. Faint scars could be made out on her shoulder where Apple Bloom had removed the crossbow bolt. Against her flank rested Durandel. This filly sent a shiver of fear up Sweetie’s spine.

As she watched, the first version of herself began to fade away, smile replaced with sadness. The other grew more solid, real. Hooves burst out of the pool and grabbed Sweetie around the neck.

“We can never be weak again!” Sweetie’s mirror-self yelled. “When we are weak, ponies we love suffer! We must bear the burden of their safety. If we do not, then Apple Bloom and Scootaloo will die.”

Sweetie’s mirror-self held her with incredible strength, legs corded steel against Sweetie’s neck. No matter how she struggled, it was impossible to break free. Before her eyes, her mirror shifted, eyes turning a bloody red, and face twisted in monstrous aspects. Fangs parted black lips, her mane flying about as if in a howling wind, and the ridges of her horn became blades.

With a yell Sweetie jolted out of the nightmares, sweat running down her sides and face.

For a period of time unknown she remained in bed, staring up at the dark ceiling, mind churning in formless circles, repeating over and over the same phrase, ‘I just had a dream.’

By itself this would have been unremarkable, except she’d already dreamt in the last year.

Pushing herself up, Sweetie made her way out of the servant’s quarters and up to the walls overlooking Southstone Spires. The griffon servants sneered, and a couple spat in her path, but Sweetie gave them no thought. They were just angry, jealous, or hated that a group of ponies had found such ‘valuable’ positions. Sweetie almost felt pity for the miserable creatures.

Finding a secluded spot on the wall where the guards wouldn’t see her was tricky. She found such a place between a crate of rotting crossbow bolts and one of the towers. Frosty mountain air whipped through her mane and stung her searching eyes. Out there, somewhere, was trouble. Sweetie could feel it in her horn.

It was only a few minutes before Sweetie spotted it. A wall of fog raced across the savannah from the north-west. Emerald flashes within the fog illuminated the shapes of a ghostly stampede. Within moments it engulfed a distant town and altered direction towards Southstone.

Faster and faster the fog rolled, climbing up the mountain slopes and spilling over the roads. A small caravan was caught, little black specks staggering and then falling to the ground before being consumed by the grey-green vapours. Warning bells began to ring across the city as the lookouts at last perceived the approaching danger. The gates began to close too late. With a crackling hiss, the fog crashed through the gates and burst into the city,.

The sickly grey cloud, lit by a pale green glow, roiled and boiled through the streets and up to the castle gates. Overhead, clouds gathered. Whispers skittered across the darkening city, like a plague of spiders driven out of the deep, dark places hidden from sight. They crawled in icy waves across skin and into the inhabitants ears.

Flee this place, oh, flee this place,

Flee this place, oh, flee this place.

The Lord o’er the Dead has come.

Flee this place, oh, flee this place,

Flee this place, oh, flee this place.

Or join us all and one.

Over and over, the whispers repeated, growing and growing until they were as a screaming wind, a howling tempest loosed from the underworld. Sweetie bolted from the wall in search of her friends. All around her, the guards raced to and fro, confusion gripping the castle’s defenders. A few threw spears into the mists or fired crossbows in futile gestures.

She found her friends huddled in a corner of Talona’s room, pressed tightly together. The little filly shivered, her face white beneath her coat, eyes pinpricks of terror, and wings hugging her body tight enough to leave bruises. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo argued in low growls over what to do; look for Sweetie, or try to escape now. Relief flooded their faces when they looked up and saw her.

“He is here!” Talona wailed, bolting out from between Scootaloo and Apple Bloom and down the corridor. “Hades is here! The God of the Dead is here! He is going to get us!”

“Come on,” Sweetie said to her friends, voice raised to be heard over the screaming whispers. “Whatever is going on is centered on her.”

“Then shouldn’t we get as far away from that psychic-path as possible?” Scootaloo waved her hooves furiously.

Rolling her eyes, Apple Bloom demanded, “An’ when has that ever worked out for us? I wouldn’t be surprised if we ain’t the cause of this somehow!”

“We’ve not even done anything, this time,” Scootaloo countered.

Grinding her teeth, Sweetie marched out of the room. They didn’t have the time for their usual banter. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo were quick to follow. They passed griffon after griffon, guard and servant alike in a state of incomprehensible panic. No one challenged the fillies, too busy clawing at their ears or cowering in blind terror.

Sweetie dashed into the training grounds, and screeched to a stop. Talona stood at the center of the arena, staring at a cart on the far side. The cart held the grisly remains of the griffons she’d killed, a limb dangling over the edge as if the occupant was only asleep. Sweetie wrinkled her nose in distaste, and focused on Talona. The alicorn filly shrank into a small ball, and began to scoot backwards.

The whispers suddenly stopped, a pregnant pause quavering over the city as it held a collective breath. And then came a crashing roar as the castle gates shattered in a ringing bang heard near and far. Hoofsteps rumbled, and a new voice rose over the city. A voice terrible in its power and hatred.

Whoever approached was singing. His voice could be heard in every corner of the city, in the deepest dungeons and highest towers, with equal clarity. Magic carried the song, and gave it a deep boom exalted by horns and drums that resonated in Sweetie’s marrow.

Broken lay bonds over death,

Sleep no more in realms of grey,

The living be your righteous prey.

The Horns of Tartarus do sound,

And lands of death lay unbound.

Shattered lay chains over death!

They thought to steal my light.

So grasp shield and spear,

And throw on cloaks of fear.

Doom and death rumble on the drum,

And thunder rages as you come.

To reclaim she who is mine by right.

Now fury fills my heart once cold,

Fury burns with rage untold.

Fury hot and red does sing,

And clamours for only one thing;

Revenge! Revenge!

To lands of Life we make our way,

And thusly ends this final day.

With doom and gloom and boom of drum.

To doom and gloom and boom of drum.

Revenge! Revenge!

Until a second death; Revenge!

“Get up, princess,” Sweetie tugged at Talona, but the filly only let out a wail, and curled tighter. Cursing the stupidity of the very young, Sweetie began to pick up Talona with magic, only for the ring around her horn to painfully end such attempts. Uttering a serious of low curses at forgetting the dampening ring, Sweetie rubbed her head. She was grateful she hadn’t tried to do anything strenuous, like cast a spell. Not that she knew any.

“Here, let me,” Apple Bloom said, bending down to help.

Movement on the cart used to haul away the dead made the fillies freeze.

A limb twitched, and a griffon flopped to the ground. Unsteadily, the griffon pushed itself up with his back to the fillies. He shuffled a few steps away, then paused, and turned towards the fillies.

For a moment Sweetie thought the griffon to still be alive, that her stroke had not been lethal afterall. She was unsure if she experienced a wave of relief or worry. The gore flecked beak, milky pale eyes, and ragged hole through which Sweetie could see the griffon’s split, unmoving heart killed any such ideas. The dead griffon jerked towards her, head swinging in a sloppy arc. Feet dragging in the blood soaked ground, he reached towards Talona with broken, mangled talons.

Scooping Talona up, Sweetie darted to the side. She was quickly passed by Scootaloo, her friend shrieking as she galloped past stalls filled with wretched slaves and into the room used by the slavemaster. Apple Bloom next to her, Sweetie changed direction to follow Scootaloo. It was a terrible place to go. Inside they’d be trapped, the only way out back into the arena.

“That is a zombie!” Scootaloo gasped, chest heaving in terror and back pressed to a wall. “A. Real. Zombie.”

“What in Celestia’s mane is going on?” Sweetie demanded, turning to Apple Bloom.

“I know I’ve been saying this a lot lately; but how the hay should I know!?”

“What are you lot doing here?” The slavemaster growled as he appeared in the doorway, scarred face twisted into an angry sneer. His talons twitched towards the command rod.

Compelled by fierce instinct, Sweetie reacted without hesitation. Sparks popped in front of Sweetie’s eyes, the ring on her horn attempting to nullify her magic. Though weakened, Sweetie flung the door shut with a wet crunch, edge striking the slavemaster on the neck.

The slavemaster blinked, and then toppled over dead. His head lolling grotesquely at a wrong angle. For a moment the fillies just stood, and stared at the slavemaster’s body.

“Princess, take these collars off my friends and me,” Sweetie ordered, her voice colder than the frosty mountain air.

Talona gaped at Sweetie and pressed her tail between her legs, ears folded back in petrified submission. From the slavemaster’s body they retrieved the keys to their collars, and one by one they were unbound, and Sweetie’s magic dampening ring removed.

Calmly, Sweetie yanked the command rod from the slavemaster’s harness and snapped it in her magic. She then dragged the body into a corner.

“Who have you become, Sweetie?” Apple Bloom asked quietly, when the last collar fell away.

“A monster,” Sweetie answered, voice just as soft. She turned to Talona, and took back Durandel and Scootaloo’s armour. Talona only gave a low squeak of protest at losing her trophies. “There is going to be a lot of fighting to get out of this city. Wait here a moment while I clear out the arena.”

Stepping out of the slave-pens alone, Sweetie cast her eyes about for the zombies.

The griffons she’d killed earlier shambled around the arena, both near the passageway back into the castle. Drawn by the scent of life, the zombies twisted towards Sweetie. With unearthly shrieks they broke into a lopping sprint.

Muscles and magic burst into equal action. Growing accustomed to sudden, violent motion, Sweetie darted beneath the zombie’s sloppy swing. Only a few weeks prior, she’d never have imagined herself becoming used to fighting, to the rush of combat, the singing song of pounding blood, and dancing on the edge of life and death.

She wondered if Rarity had ever felt the same way in her adventures.

The zombies had no conception of dodging, or danger. Durandel came down on the first zombie’s shoulder, and he fell into two halves, spilling entrails and gore with a sickening splat. Without slowing, Sweetie felled the second in similar fashion. Heedless of their dismemberment, the zombies continued to move until Sweetie drove Durandel into their heads, bursting them like overly ripe melons on a hot summer road.

Panting, Sweetie spent only a moment to gather her wits before collecting her friends. She hovered on leaving Talona behind. The filly was nothing but trouble. She’d tormented Sweetie and her friends for the past couple weeks. Forced Sweetie to hurt and kill. Yet, Sweetie knew in her heart that Talona was only a filly, a child who didn’t understand the consequences of her actions. Nopony had ever taught her the difference between right and wrong, good and evil. She couldn’t leave a foal behind.

“Let’s go, girls,” Sweetie said, leading the way back into the castle.

Unsure where else to go, Sweetie decided to head towards the vault, and hide there. Maybe they could fix the gate—somehow—and escape that way. Barring that, they could come up with some plan of escaping the city. Or wait out whatever calamity was striking the city until the princesses came to the rescue.

A city of zombie-griffons seemed like the sort of thing that would attract the attention of at least one of the princesses.

To reach the vault they had to pass through the throne room. As they neared the throne room the entire mountain quaked and a violent roar made Sweetie’s bones shake. The noise was all-encompassing, and for a brief instant Sweetie expected the castle to collapse around her. Bursting into a gallop, she charged ahead. She didn’t slow when the tremors ceased, or even for the door to the throne room, shoving it open with her aura before she’d even reached it.

She did slide to a halt when she entered the throne room. Unprepared for Sweetie’s sudden stop, Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Talona ran right into her, the group bowling over into a heap.

Struggling to pull themselves apart, the group of fillies were ignored by the large crowd filling the throne room.

The entire griffon court was gathered and arrayed around a midnight black alicorn. Silvery mane flying about as if caught in a winter storm, cloaked in a thick shroud of dark aether, Hades loomed over the king and queen, the pair held in his hissing aura. Nestling herself between Apple Bloom and Scootaloo, Talona did her best to disappear.

“It was a good effort, Amon,” Hades snorted at the king, “But you are just a marquis, and I am the King of Tartarus. Were you at your full strength this may have been an interesting challenge, but crippled? And in a mortal host? How low the mighty have fallen.”

Talons scraping in futile gestures at the aura around his throat, the king snarled, “This world is ours, Hades. Sending me back solves nothing. More and more of us slip through the cracks of your prison. Tartarus can no longer contain demonkind.”

“Then I simply have to mend the cracks. Thank you for telling me, Amon. Give my regards to Leviathan.” Hades tensed his wings, and a sickening crack filled the throne room as the former griffon king’s chest burst open.

Sweetie clutched Apple Bloom and Scootaloo tighter, and they held Talona in terrified hooves. She twisted them all away so they didn’t have to see what was happening. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, and, try as she might, the image of the king’s final moments were seared into her. A thick, white crystal floated towards Hades, corrupt green veins pulsing across the surface giving it a mockery of life.

Hades then turned to regard the griffon queen. He took a deep breath, and spoke in a low growl. “You sought to abuse the power of a god, to corrupt her, to turn her into a tool for petty conquest. You thought to use your mate as host to a lord of demonic pits. You hungered for glories and powers fit only for the gods.”

With each accusation, Hades loomed larger and larger. He vibrated with anger, and magic crackled along the edges of his dark wings.

With a boom, he proclaimed, “I grant you only death! I curse your kind. I curse your city. Your hunger will never abate, your thirsts never slack. There will be no release. Not by sword, nor time, nor spell. Neither alive nor dead, you will be forced to watch the world as ages pass. Frozen, as if in amber, in an agony of want you’ll exist, you and your kin bound to this city until the stars grow cold, the mountain erodes into plains, and the sun vanishes from the heavens in a bloody froth.”

Magic so cold it burned struck Sweetie’s back, and reached out over the city and down Kiligriffjaro’s slopes and to the savanna. At the epicenter, Queen Hydrosa howled, her body writhing at the primal energies cascading through her. Bones snapped to a sickening refrain, her dying screams turning into a gurgle that was silenced by the tolling of a bell.

Three times the bell struck, its ringing tones coming from within Sweetie’s bones. When the last note faded a silence more pervasive than that which hangs over graveyards left a void.

Raising her head, Sweetie looked on in horror at the griffons. They lay in trembling heaps, spasms shaking dead limbs in paroxysms of life. Hades stood unmoving before the central heap that was the queen, a slight sneer simmering with a cold light in his blue eyes.

The queen raised herself up uncertainty, and slowly, around her, so did the other griffons. She looked the same, unchanged, but for the last traces of a receding green glow. Her talons twitched, tested the air, and she smiled. In a sudden flurry of violent motion, the queen slashed at Hades.

Razor sharp talons halted a mere breath away from the gods throat. Her face contorted with shock that morphed into rage. She tried again, with identical results. When she pounced an unseen force flung her away. Her arm halted when she attempted to hurl a bust of her dead husband.

No matter what, she was prevented from harming Hades.

Striding past the fuming queen, Hades mounted the dias and swept aside the twin thrones with a casual wing. In their place he conjured a throne of swooping silver and hard-edged iron. After he took his throne, Hades placed the stone he ripped from Amon onto the leg rest next to him. He then raised his voice, and called out, “You may enter now, Soir.”

The large doors protested as they were pushed open a crack, and Soir slinked through the gap. She hesitated at all the griffons, and kept a wide space between herself and them as she made her way across the throne room. They stared at her, silent, unmoving, held in place by Hades’ curse. Sweetie frowned at the filly, wondering how she was connected with the God of the Dead.

“Je n’ai toujours pas vu Twilight,” Soir said when she reached the bottom of the dais, her voice sweet and innocent amidst all the horror. Sweetie’s ears flicked up at hearing Prench, her mind racing faster as she tried to figure out what was going to happen next, and why the filly was looking for Princess Twilight.

“She is coming. Look over there, those ponies are dear to her.” Hades indicated Sweetie and the others with a wingtip. He then beckoned them to approach.

Understanding the command for what it was, Sweetie released her hold over the others, and said in a low hiss, “Come on, we better not make him angry. He seems as bad as Nightmare Moon or Discord.”

Hades inspected the fillies one by one, pausing for a moment with Sweetie, and saying, “I met your sister. She was brought before me in Tartarus. It is thanks to her I am here.”

Tongue suddenly leaden, Sweetie didn’t know how to respond. Anything she said wouldn’t have mattered, as Hades moved on to Talona.

“And my, aren't you a curious thing! How is my little great-niece doing among these savages?”

“You don’t want to eat me?” Talona poked her head out from between Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. “But, mama always said you were the meanest, cruelest, most dispicablest pony ever.”

Smiling, surrounded by the court of undead griffons, Hades asked, “Whatever gave her that impression? I’m a very proper, respectable god.”

“Yay! Uncle-Lord Hades isn’t a bad god, after-all!” Talona clapped her small hooves, and then made to bound up onto the throne, much as she would with the griffon king and queen. Giggling, she was caught in an aura, and set down next to Soir. “Hello,” Talona looked Soir over head to hoof, and then bowed, “I am Talona, Daughter of Wisdom and War, and goddess-princess of Griffonia. Who are you?”

Taken aback, Soir introduced herself in an uncertain mutter. She was watching Hades with something like pity, mixed with horror tinged by fear.

Hades addressed his new court in a voice that boomed out over the city and slopes beyond. “These five are my treasured guests. See to their every need and comfort. I command it so.”

The griffons bowed. It was impossible for them to refuse, bound to Hades adamantium will. Across the city salty rain began to fall, growing from a soft patter into a thick torrent of mothers’ tears.

Author's Note

This chapter was overall a lot of fun to write, and a bit troublesome. Sweetie Belle's portion went through several revisions in rapid succession. First it was a bit too over-the-top, than Durandel kept being passed around from character to character. There were zombies. There were no zombies. They were present for Hades entire encounter with Amon. Then they just showed up at the tail end, catching the final moments.

By comparison, Fleur was easy and it wrote itself. Noblesse makes her brief return for this version of Myths. We see what has happened to Sirius, and get a little more about Algol. At one, very brief, point Algol did indeed monologue for several paragraphs all her plans and reasons for what she is doing. Didn't last an afternoon, but it was useful to write just to further solidify her in my head.

I have a lot I want to say about the Zubu-Gilda portion of the chapter, but have decided against it as it is the sort of thing that could just take over the comments. It was written in a single evening two weeks ago, and saw very few changes or minor tweaks since.

Finally; formatting songs/poems continues to be a nightmare... This particular song doesn't have much of a guiding point, unlike the previous chapter's song. The closest is The Ent's Marching Song, by Clamavi de Profundis. Mostly can be seen in the final two lines which don't really fit with the rest of song/poem in terms of cadence or lyrics.