Stroke of Midnight

by FanNotANerd

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Big Macintosh, Princess Celestia, Dark, Main 6, Princess Luna, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 22733

The sins of the past may be forgotten. But they are never truly silent.

In the long-forgotten past, the solar princess welcomed a black unicorn into Canterlot Castle. He was an artist who quickly found a place in the hearts of all who met him. His name, likened to the colour of his coat, was Midnight.

Nearly a millennium later, the discovery of an unusual book leads Twilight to Canterlot. And directly into a whirlwind of events where the secrets of the past are finally brought to light...even as all is eclipsed in madness...

Published 2012-01-28 14:55:22 UTC
Last updated 2012-01-28 14:55:22 UTC

The Book

“C’mon, Big Mac! Put yer back into it!”

The draught horse shot Applejack a sharp glare before straining against the rope again, tendons bulging out against his skin. With a series of ear-rending screeches, the rusted nails holding the floorboards to the joists let go. Macintosh stumbled forward as the section of floorboards he had been pulling on tore free.

Without saying a word, he untied the rope from his yoke and sat heavily on the floor, breathing heavily. Applejack glanced at the floorboards and laughed nervously. “All right. That didn’t work as well as Ah hoped. Guess we need t’ get a new crowbar after all.”

Big Macintosh forced himself to his hooves to examine his handiwork. His Herculean effort had resulted in the removal of a grand total of three of the water-damaged floorboards. Three of the several dozen in the barn that needed replacing.

He shook his head. “Gotta hand it t’ them Apples back then,” he remarked. “They built their stuff t’ last.”

Applejack chuckled. “Didn’t seem to think we might have t’ replace it, though. Ah swear, this would be easier if th’ barn was made of concrete.”

Macintosh carefully stepped over the hole and walked out of the barn. “Ah’ll be right back. Hopefully with a wreckin’ bar or two.”

“You do that,” Applejack responded, wiping some sweat from her brow. Seemed the barn was never in a state where it didn’t need repairs. First the load-bearing wall decided to sag, then the roof started leaking, then water managed to get into the foundation...

Applejack frowned at the newly formed gap in the floor, something having suddenly caught her attention. It was tucked into a small hollow in the dirt, nearly hidden under the next couple boards. “What in tarnation…”

XXX

Twilight frowned at the book lying open in front of her, squinting to make out the elegant calligraphy slanting along the page. The Gaelic script, as far as she could translate, described an unusual spell, one she was pretty sure broke several laws of physics. Listed below it were a series of equally unusual compounds, many of which simple chemical theory dictated couldn't possibly exist.

But somepony had taken the time to write it down, and on vellum, no less. "Where did you find this?" she finally said, looking up at the pony across from her.

Applejack grinned widely. "You know how me ‘n Mac are fixin’ up th’ barn? Ah found that under some floorboards.”

The purple unicorn gently lifted a page with her magic, admiring the thinness of the vellum sheet. The book was well-crafted. "Was it in a chest or anything? It's in amazing shape."

Applejack frowned. "Come to think of it, no. Just sittin' in a space under th' barn."

"I just can't detect any enchantments on it," Twilight admitted, closing the tome with the greatest of care. "Are you sure it wasn't preserved in any way? Was there anything that would indicate a preservation charm, or anything?"

Applejack chuckled. "Come on, Twi'. You're talking to Applejack, here. When Ah say Ah'm sure 'bout somethin', Ah'm sure."

Twilight traced a hoof over the gold leaf in the cover. "Do you have any idea what you've found?"

"No," Applejack said, fighting back a toothy grin. "Why?"

"Because I don't either!" Twilight responded, unable to take her eyes off the book. Applejack’s grin faded almost as swiftly as it had appeared.

"If the dialect and script is any indication,” Twilight continued, oblivious to her friend’s disappointment, “I would say this book is almost a thousand years old! Not to mention the fact that the spells described break nearly all known laws of magic.”

"Yeah that's cool," Applejack said, her hopes beginning to fade. "But is it valuable?"

"Valuable?" Twilight said, opening the tome again and studying the script. "I have no idea. There’s quite a market for old books, if you can find a buyer. But they usually look for famous plays, or original manuscripts.”

The unicorn paused for a long second. “If you don’t mind…I’d like a chance to examine it in some detail. Before you sell it, I mean. Books like this don’t come about very often.”

Applejack sighed. So much for Big Mac's new plow. "You know what? If yer that interested, you can have it."

“I’m not asking for much. Just a couple…wait, what?”

“Take it. Sounds like sellin’ it would be more trouble than it’s worth anyhow.”

"Oh, Applejack," Twilight stammered. "I couldn't. You found it, so it's rightfully-"

"Ah know, Ah can do what I want with it. And Ah want you to have it. You can do more good with it than any collector, or some pawn shop. Jus' don't let Spike fry it, wouldja?"

The unicorn clutched the book to her chest. "Thank you, Applejack."

"No worries," the earth pony replied. A sudden thought struck her. "Oh, if you figure out where it's from, would you mind lettin' me know? It might be useless to me, but Ah shore am curious about it."

“Of course,” Twilight replied distractedly, frowning at one of the passages, then consulting a Gaelic dictionary she pulled from a shelf.

“And thanks for th’ crowbar,” the earth pony added, tucking the heavy tool into her saddlebag. “Mac’ll appreciate it.”

The unicorn didn’t respond, instead flipping ahead in the book and muttering to herself.

Applejack backed out of the library, chuckling to herself. Well, if nothing else, it would keep her busy for a little while. The girl needed a project.

XXX

It was near nightfall when a cyan blur streaked into the library through the open window, blowing a carefully stacked sheaf of papers off the desk. It was only because of Twilight’s quick reflexes that Applejack’s tome didn’t join them.

The unicorn shot a glare at Rainbow Dash, who was currently trying to pry her face out from between a pair of bookshelves. A slim paperback volume lay beside her, a beige pegasus depicted on the cover. “I have a door, you know.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Dash replied, yanking her head free.

Twilight’s mouth worked, but nothing came out. She finally settled for an exasperated grunt and set about picking up her research notes, absently noting that the paperback was the Daring Do novel the pegasus had borrowed a week before. “I’m sorry, Dash, but I just don’t have time for this right now.”

“What’s so important?” the pegasus asked, nudging a couple pages filled with an unintelligible scrawl toward her friend. “I mean, you haven’t come out all day.”

Twilight fought to keep from groaning. “I don’t have to go into town every single day, you know. Now, if you’ll just-“

“What’s this?” Dash asked, peering at the book on the table. “Is that the book on aerodynamics you were going to find me?”

“No,” Twilight said, carefully moving the book away from her pegasus friend. “It’s a book Applejack found under her barn, and I’m trying to figure out who wrote it.”

The pegasus glanced at the script slanting across the page and snorted in derision. “Dunno how you can read that. Look’s upside-down to me.”

She reached out with a hoof and inverted the book. A moment later, she frowned. It still looked upside-down.

“If you don’t mind,” Twilight growled, “I’d like to get back to my research. I really want to find out where this book is from. So if you’ll excuse me…”

Rainbow Dash suddenly remembered why she had decided to drop in. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “I just remembered.”

Twilight gave her a level stare. “Yes?”

Dash shifted nervously. "I...uh...finished that book."

The lavender unicorn sighed in resignation. "I noticed. So you're here for the next one?"

“Yeah. And I heard the mare who wrote it's also done another series, all about-"

"You can tell me about it later, Rainbow," Twilight said, more abruptly than she meant to, levitating the next instalment in the Daring Do series from its spot on the shelf. "But right now, I really need to-"

"'Kaythanksbye!" Dash blurted, snatching the book and rocketing back out the window.

"Work on this," Twilight finished dumbly. After a moment, she shrugged and went back to the desk. That was probably one of the rare occasions where an abrupt exit was actually convenient.

The unicorn turned bloodshot eyes back to the tome, still obstinately displaying coherent nonsense. Her research had not been going well, to say the least. Nothing even remotely related to the book had come up in her reference guides, and the book itself had a maddening lack of any identifying features. Even a publish date would have made her life a lot easier, but it lacked even that.

The only thing she had to determine the book’s identity was that maddeningly familiar gold leaf design on the cover, which was worn just enough to be unidentifiable. And as for the contents…what didn’t seem to break at least one law of magic appeared to be so difficult that performing it would be counterproductive to its purpose. In short, it didn’t make any sense.
I wonder if Discord wrote it, Twilight thought, smiling wryly. If there was a passage on chocolate rain, it would fit the bill.
She glared at the offending tome, frustrated by her lack of progress. After a moment, she flipped it open again, scouring the text for something she may have missed.

After a few minutes, she began to get the niggling feeling that something wasn’t right. It didn’t feel like she’d read the section she was on before, but she knew she had. In fact…

Twilight consulted her notes, paying special attention to page references. She even counted the pages of the book in case the numbering was off. There was no doubt about it. The contents had changed.

The unicorn flung the paper to the ground, groaning. Great. It was one of those books.

Books like this one popped up every now and then. Their making was shrouded in mystery, and likely lost to time, but they never ceased to amaze those studying them. While some tomes were enchanted after being bound, tomes like this one were created with magic. As a result, they were virtually invulnerable to damp, flame and many of the other things that had a habit of destroying books. They were also capable of changing their contents seemingly of their own accord, and were thus able to store far more information than they appeared to.

How often the contents changed and how much information was actually contained in its pages was entirely subject to the author. It might hold fairly constant, or it might change completely with each reading, and never show the same page twice.
It explained the book’s condition, as well as why Twilight was unable to detect any preservation charms. The books were essentially magic given substance, and were completely indistinguishable from normal volumes to the untrained eye.
Unfortunately, it did absolutely nothing to narrow down her search. Those kind of tomes were rarely, if ever referenced, usually because of their amorphous nature.

But making the books required a massive investment of time, effort and energy. Why would anypony spend so much time to make a book that contained impossible spells and techniques?

Twilight sighed. You win this round, book.

She closed the tome with reverent care, certain that she’d simply missed something. The book had secrets, of that she was
sure. And the more stubborn it was about yielding them…well, the more she wanted to know them.

XXX

“Can’t Ah help?”

Applejack chuckled. “Thank ye kindly fer the offer, Applebloom. But…well, you ain’t quite big enough to do this yet.”

The filly pouted. “Yes Ah am! Ms. Cheerilee always said you can do anythin’ you put’cher mind to.”

Applejack gave an exaggerated shrug. “All right. If you say so.”

“Who knows?” Applebloom said, trotting over to the discarded crowbar. “Maybe mah cutie mark’s fer demolition.”

“The way you and yer friends are goin’,” Big Macintosh remarked, “That seems fairly likely.”

“An’ what’s that s’posed to mean?” Applebloom shot back.

Applejack and Big Macintosh both burst out laughing at their baby sister’s comical expression. “Absolutely nothin’,” Applejack said, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye. “Now, take th’ crowbar an’ stick the end…the other end, th’ hooked one…under th’ floorboard. Now just push on it.”

Applebloom followed her sister’s instructions, maneuvering the heavy tool with some difficulty. “Now Ah just pull on it, right?”

“Eeyup,” Macintosh said. “But remember, yer pullin’ up a whole board. It still takes a lot o’ force.”

Applebloom grasped the crowbar in her mouth and hauled back with all her might. The floorboard didn’t budge an inch.
The filly frowned and tried again. And yet again, nothing happened. Her eyebrows met, and she yanked on the iron bar again, using every ounce of strength in her small body.

And was rewarded with a loud screeching sound as the rusted nails pulled free of the floor joists. Applebloom stumbled backwards, thrown off-balance from the floorboard’s sudden release. For a moment, she stared with disbelief at the dislodged floorboard. Then a wide grin spread across her face.

“Ah did it!” she crowed, leaping in the air. A moment later, she was spinning in a circle, trying to get a look at her flank. “Has mah cutie mark appeared yet? What would a demolition cutie mark look like, anyway? Maybe a crowbar?”

She finally got a glimpse of her flank. Blank, as usual. Applebloom sighed. “On th’ other hand, maybe a crowbar wouldn’t look that good.”

Applejack glanced out the window, noting the low angle of the sun. “Well, Ah think it’s about time we called it quits for the day anyhow. Why don’t you hurry in an’ see if Granny Smith needs any help with dinner?”

“All right,” Applebloom replied, trotting toward the farmhouse.

Applejack watched her little sister go, a fond smile on her face. “Can’t blame her fer tryin’ can you?”

“Nnnope,” Macintosh replied, walking up beside her. “By the way, did you find out anything about that book?”

Applejack shook her head. “Twilight couldn’t really tell me much, ‘cept that it wasn’t worth much. Ah figured she could use it more than Ah could.”

“Too bad,” Macintosh said. “A few spare bits woulda been nice.”

“Yeah,” Applejack sighed. An uncomfortable silence ensued.

“C’mon,” she finally said. “Granny Smith’s prob’ly waitin’ fer us.”

“Eeyup,” Macintosh said, following.

XXX

Celestia eyed the black unicorn as he walked in through the door. "So this is the artist I've heard so much about," she said to the guard beside her.

The artist in question entered the audience chamber hesitantly, as if still unsure if he was allowed in. He wore a simple brown cloak over his body, to which was attached a small pack, presumably containing his painting supplies. Unusually, his coat was a uniform black, as dark as a starless sky. Even his mane, unruly despite an obvious effort to tame it, was the same shade of black.

The guard beside her whispered some necessary details in her ear. The artist was a traveler, and went by the name of Midnight. He had been arrested a week before for illegally crossing the border into Equestria, and had been held captive for several days.

His belongings had been confiscated, and roughly examined. To the surprise of the guards, all he carried was a few days' supplies, and a painting kit. The items had also included several paintings, all of which the guards agreed were museum quality. They had immediately assumed the paintings were stolen, and had roughly interrogated the complacent unicorn.

Only when he was seen sketching the view from his cell in the dirt of the floor did the guards finally believe his pleas that the paintings were his own work. Upon hearing that, the guards had apologized profusely and sent him on his way. The stallion had then requested that one of the guards travel with him to Canterlot, in order to avoid any future misunderstanding. Much to the disbelief of the guard accompanying him, a new recruit named About Face, he’d taken the whole thing in stride, even joking about it on the journey.

Once the stallion had reached the throne, Celestia spoke up. "Welcome to Canterlot, Midnight. But before I say anything else, I must apologize for your treatment at the border."

The stallion smiled. "No worries, your majesty. My paintings were unharmed, and that is all that matters. The guards were only doing their job, and I bear them no ill will. Especially About Face. Quite an agreeable fellow, once you get to know him. I believe he agreed to show me to the local tavern and share a few drinks."

"Yes..." Celestia said, momentarily taken aback. "Quite."

Usually, any artist would be livid at such treatment, and demand fair recompense. Still, something hinted that this unicorn was something special. His modesty (not to mention his carefree nature) only added to that feeling.

She cleared her throat, trying to cover up her momentary loss of composure. "I have seen your work, and I must say, I'm quite impressed."

The unicorn bowed respectfully. "I'm flattered, your majesty. But I'm just a simple traveling painter. I merely try to capture the beauty of nature with my brush."

"And you do that with a degree of skill I haven't seen for a long time," Celestia said warmly. "Tell me, Midnight. Where do you come from?"

The unicorn kept his face carefully neutral. "Here and there. My home country is...not one you would have heard of."

Celestia frowned slightly at his answer, but soon quashed her misgivings. Everypony had their right to privacy. This unicorn was no different.

“You must be tired after your journey,” she said. “I would be happy to offer you a room in the castle, where you would be free to stay as long as you wish.”

“Who knows,” Celestia continued, smiling. “I may even commission a work or two. That is, if you are willing.”

The stallion allowed himself a small smile. "Of course I do, your majesty. My brush is at your disposal."

Yes, perhaps he could find a place here. Perhaps he could lose himself in his art, and simply forget. Forget the past that was doing its damndest to catch up to him.

Rotted Apples

Sleeping had always seemed so easy before. Just collapse into bed after a long day of studying, pull the warm blanket over your head, and let your mind go blank…

So why wasn’t it working?

Twilight groaned in irritation and rolled back onto her back. No matter how she twisted and contorted herself, she simply couldn’t get comfortable. And forcing her mind to go blank was proving more than troublesome.

For a moment, she actually contemplated the ridiculous idea of counting sheep, and discarded it just as quickly. How the hay was that supposed to help?

The unicorn forced herself out of bed, and stumbled over to the kitchen for a drink. Too bad she’d given the last of her chamomile to Rarity. A few sprigs of that brewed into a tea usually knocked her right out.

As she walked back upstairs, she glanced at the clock in her living room. It was nearly three in the morning. Twilight glared sourly at the clock, as if it was responsible for her insomnia. Of course, it wasn’t. That damned book was at fault.

Twilight threw herself back into bed, blowing a tangled bit of her mane out of her eye. Okay, Twilight. You can do this. Just focus on how warm the bed is, and how comfortable the pillow feels, and…

And now the bed was too warm.

Twilight let out a frustrated groan and jumped out of bed, grabbing the window in her magic and flinging it open as she did so. The cool night air flooded the room, bringing the delicate scent of morning dew.

The unicorn gave up on sleeping and walked over to the book, still lying open on her desk. “What are you hiding?” she said quietly, tracing the worn cover design with a hoof. “What am I missing?”

Her eyelids drooped, and she slumped forward over the table. A moment later, she fell sound asleep, while the pages of the
book shimmered and changed beneath her.

XXX

Macintosh walked out to the apple fields, taking a deep breath of the fresh morning air. This was his favourite time of day, when the flowers were just beginning to open their blossoms to the sun, and the taste of the morning dew was still in the air…

The stallion smiled slightly. Maybe I’m more of a poet than I thought.

He quickly set out toward the apple fields for his customary morning stroll, which doubled as an inspection of the trees. It was one of the rare times he had all to himself, and then it would be back to a hard day’s work fixing up the barn.

He paused to inspect the ripening fruit on the nearest apple tree, noting with some satisfaction that a faint reddish hue was beginning to spread across the skin. They were ripening, all right, and right on time.

Big Macintosh continued on, humming quietly to himself, past the next few trees. A few clouds drifted through the sky, likely ignored by the weather team. It was warming up nicely, maybe enough for the cicadas to start buzzing in the trees…

The stallion’s humming cut off abruptly. He looked back at the tree he had just passed. At first glance, it looked fine, but there was still something off about it.

Macintosh peered closely at the leaves, and groaned when he made out the cream-coloured spots speckled across the leaves. No, no, no! Not now!

He checked another tree, and another. They both displayed the same pattern of spots. The next one was untouched, but the next five were similarly affected. Macintosh sank back on his haunches, breathing heavily. This was bad. Very bad. He quickly checked the apples on the affected trees, clinging to the naïve hope that it was just some discolouration of the leaves…

Nope. The apples were stunted and green, despite the rising spring temperatures. Macintosh held his head in his hooves
and groaned, shucking aside his coat of stoicism. Applejack was not going to be happy.

XXX

“Apple mosaic?” Applejack asked, shuddering slightly at the phrase. “And you’re sure?”

“Eeyup,” Macintosh replied. “Little more than half the field’s got it, by my reckoning.”

“Horsefeathers,” Applejack hissed, running a hoof through her mane. The apple mosaic virus was a nasty, virulent disease that spread though orchards like wildfire. Either the trees were immune to it, or they weren’t. Every tree that wasn’t immune was affected.

It wasn’t fatal to the tree, but the spots Macintosh had noticed would turn necrotic and quickly rot in the heat of summer. The badly affected trees wouldn’t bear any fruit at all, and what fruit was borne would certainly be unsellable, and likely inedible.

Applejack paused for a long moment, performing some calculations in her head. “This ain’t good,” she finally said. “Th’ barn’s already run us ‘bout fifteen hundred bits, and if them folk at th’ mill jack their prices again-“

“Ah know,” the stallion said, cutting his sister off. “Worst-case scenario: prices go up another ten percent or so, an’ we have to sell every apple we can salvage t’ pay for it.”

The orange earth pony pawed nervously at the ground. “Which won’t leave us anythin’ for winter.”

In short, the farm would not only be broke until the next harvest, but they wouldn’t be able to get food from their own fields, seeing as they would be stripped almost bare.

Both were silent for a long moment. “Can we stall the barn repairs ‘till next year?” Applejack finally ventured.

Macintosh shook his head. “Th’ place is practically fallin’ down as it is. We wait another winter, and we’ll have dry-rot in th’ foundation. We’d have t’ knock th’ whole thing down and rebuild. An’ Ah don’t know ‘bout you, but Ah don’t want Rainbow Dash on demolition duty again. Ah was pickin’ bits of wood off the property fer months.”

“What Ah’m worried about,” he said, lowering his voice. “Is if we should tell Applebloom.”

Applejack looked out the barn door, to where her baby sister and friends were frolicking by the drainage ditch. The orange one…Scootaloo, wasn’t it? The orange one looked to be trying to jump the ditch, using a pile of dirt as a ramp.

“No,” she finally said. “Ah hate keepin’ things from her, but the filly’s heart’s jus’ too big fer her own good. Let’s jus’ keep this quiet and see how it turns out.”

Macintosh fidgeted. “You know Ah don’t like that idea.”

“You think Ah do?” Applejack shot back, looking her brother in the eye. “You know how hard it is fer me t’ lie. An Ah’m supposed t’ look mah little sister in th’ eye an’ tell her nothin’s wrong?”

“You don’t have t’ lie to her face,” Macintosh reasoned. “Jus’…y’know, evade the question.”

Both cast a nervous glance out the door again as Scootaloo's voice drifted across the field. "All right. Here goes nothing."

The stallion ignored the fillies and continued on. “Don’ bring it up, and she won’t ask.”

Applejack shot her brother a sidelong look. “Fer a pony of few words, you seem t’ know a lot ‘bout th’ theory of lyin’.”

Macintosh looked away. “Well…”

Applejack swallowed. “Well, Ah need t’ get a few more two-by-sixes fer the south wall. Ah can find out what the situation is then. Until then, jus’ keep it on the down-“

A horrible, tearing wail suddenly echoed across the farm.

Both earth ponies jerked their heads toward the barn door. Without even thinking, Applejack galloped out of the barn. I swear, if one of those fillies got herself hurt…

“What’s the matter?” she said breathlessly, skidding to a halt. Before her sister had even opened her mouth, Applejack immediately saw what was wrong. Scootaloo was huddled at the bottom of the drainage ditch, shaking slightly and hugging one of her forelegs close to her body. The filly’s initial scream had trailed off into an odd, groaning sob, and she was making an obvious effort not to howl again.

The earth pony hopped down into the mud at the bottom of the ditch, quickly noting the scooter lying beside the pegasus filly. “What happened?” she asked.

Applebloom hesitated a second before answering. “Well…Scootaloo tried t’ jump th’ ditch, but…she hit the wall, and her leg got bent all funny…”

“We thought she was joking at first,” Sweetie Belle said, blinking back tears. “But then she screamed, and…”

“Is…is she gonna be all right?” Applebloom cut in, eyes huge.

“Ah’ll see ‘bout that,” Applejack growled. She’d have to have a discussion with her sister later about this. “C’mon,” she said to Scootaloo. “Let me see th’ leg.”

Scootaloo whimpered and pulled away, face white with pain. Even that small movement was enough to send a bolt of agony through her foreleg. A yelp of pain escaped her mouth, and she immediately clenched her teeth against it, fighting with every ounce of her will not to scream.

Applejack lowered her voice. “C’mon, you. It’s all right. Ah’m not mad, Ah jus’ want t’ help you. But Ah can’t do that if Ah can’t see your leg.”

The pegasus filly slowly began to respond to her coaxing, and carefully extended her injured leg. “There we go,” Applejack continued, in the same soothing tone. “Now let me just have a look at it…”

A glance at the shoulder joint told the earth pony all she needed to know. The filly had dislocated her shoulder. She’d seen the same thing on Rainbow Dash more than once after a trick gone wrong.

“Okay,” she said, gripping Scootaloo’s foreleg. “Now when Ah count to three, you take a deep breath and hold it, all right?”
The filly managed a slight duck of the head, which Applejack interpreted as a nod. “All right. Now, one…two…thr- say, ain’t that Rainbow Dash up there?”

Scootaloo flicked her gaze upward to the empty sky. “Where-“ she started.

Whatever she’d been about to say was lost as Applejack wrenched on her injured foreleg, slamming her shoulder back into its socket. The filly sucked in a breath and screamed even louder than before, yanking her foreleg away from the earth pony and pressing a hoof to her shoulder.

A moment later, she was testing her weight on the limb, the pain having abruptly faded to a dull ache. “Wow,” she said, her voice feeling strangely rusty. “How’d you…”

Applejack smiled. “Ah’ve seen that kinda hurt more’n once. What Ah don’t want to see is you getting’ it again doin’ something like this.”

She turned back to the two fillies standing anxiously at the edge of the ditch. “Now whose idea was this?”

All three were silent for a moment. “It was my idea,” Applebloom finally said. “Ah dared Scootaloo t’ make th’ jump, and-“

“No way!” Scootaloo cut in. “You didn’t have anything to do with it! The whole thing was all me!”

“But I thought it was my idea!” Sweetie Belle piped up. “Applebloom mentioned a ditch, and Scootaloo had her scooter here, so I wondered if she could jump it-“

“Enough!” Applejack groaned, massaging her temples. “Since yer all insisting it’s your fault, Ah’ll assume it is. And so…”

She paused, realizing the argument had completely stolen her thunder. Ah, to hell with it.

“Sweetie Belle, Ah’m sure Rarity’ll have some choice things t’say ‘bout yer behaviour. Applebloom…we’ll talk about this later. And Scootaloo…for th’ love of Celestia, please stop makin’ ridiculous jumps on that thing. It ain’t safe, and Ah’m amazed you haven’t hurt yourself more often. Now get on with whatever you were doin’.”

The Cutie Mark Crusaders immediately swapped out their suitably chastised faces for wide grins and scampered off, hooting about whatever idiocy they were planning next.

Applejack sighed in defeat. Frankly, she had no idea if she’d handled that right. Then she caught sight of the look her brother was giving her. “What?”

Her brother said nothing, and simply nodded in approval. It meant she’d handled the situation the exact way he would.

For a moment, the orange earth pony felt a surge of pride. Maybe she was raising her baby sister right after all.

XXX

Twilight…

Twilight…

“Twilight!”

The lavender unicorn yelped in surprise and straightened up, eyes wide and unfocused. “The product of the pressure and volume of a gas is a constant!” she blurted.

Spike sighed. Outbursts like this were not uncommon when the unicorn fell asleep studying. “Twilight, you’re not in Canterlot. This is the library. Ponyville.”

The baby dragon’s words pierced the fog of sleep wrapped around Twilight’s brain, allowing a couple neurons to fire in sync. “Ponyville?” she repeated dumbly.

Spike left for a moment, and returned with a mug of something in his claws. “I didn’t know you’d have so much trouble sleeping without me,” he said dryly, plunking the mug down in front of her.

Twilight inhaled the steam that rose from the mug. Whatever it was, it smelled heavenly. Working more by instinct than anything else, she wrapped her magic around the mug and drained it, ignoring the pain as the scalding liquid burned down her throat.

Thank Celestia. Coffee. Strong, black coffee. The stuff was hard to come by, seeing as it had to be brought up from far to the south, but the unicorn had learned long ago to keep an ample supply for situations just like this one.

In the few minutes it took for the caffeine to take effect, Spike carefully laid his recently purchased supplies of parchment, quills and ink in their respective drawers, directing an apathetic glance at the book that laid open on the table. It wasn’t one he recognized, but Twilight was always dragging dusty old tomes out from one place or another.

The curious thing was that she’d left it open. She’d lectured him time and time again that leaving book open was bad for the spine. That it was left open meant one of two things: either Twilight had stopped caring about the welfare of her books (unlikely) or she’d fallen asleep reading it. Nevertheless, his curiosity was piqued.

“What’s with the book?” he asked, mixing together some barley and oats for a quick, high-energy breakfast.

“Applejack found it while fixing her barn,” Twilight said, yawning. “I’m trying to figure out what it is.”

Spike placed the bowl of grains in front of her, frowning. “Uh, Twilight? Hate to break it to you, but that’s a book.”

“I know it’s a book,” the unicorn replied irritably, diving into the impromptu breakfast. “But I don’t know the title, author, or
anything about it. The contents don’t make sense, and to top it off, it’s one of those changing books.”

Spike chuckled nervously. The last time he’d found one of those, it had changed from a recipe for spring green salad to a rather graphic diagram of female equine anatomy. That one had been difficult to explain, to say the least.

“Uh huh,” he said, hanging his knapsack from a wall hook. “And all this happened while I went to Canterlot for supplies?”

“I’m not saying you missed much,” Twilight said, stretching.

“Right,” Spike said, eying the book. “Did you check the-“

“Yes, I did,” Twilight snapped, her voice rising an octave. “I’ve been through every reference guide in the library, and can’t find so much as a footnote! It’s like this book was never even written!”

A moment later, she flattened her ears and forced herself to relax. “I’m sorry. I’ve just never been stumped like this before. And I don’t like it!”

Spike chuckled. “Twilight, if I hadn’t learned to put up with you by now…well, I guess I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Besides,” he continued. “I already know what you haven’t checked.”

“Where?” Twilight said. “There’s not a single book in my library that mentions this one!”

“Exactly!” Spike crowed. “If there’s nothing in this library, you’re not going to get any farther here. You need-“

“The Canterlot Archives!” Twilight finished, her face brightening. “Spike, you’re a genius! Why didn’t I think of that?”

“That’s why you keep me around,” Spike said, grinning. “I’m not your Number One Assistant just for my looks, you know.”

Twilight snorted. “That’s obvious.”

She smiled a moment later. “I’m joking, Spike. You don’t need to give me that look. Now do me a favor and take a letter.”
The dragon stomped over to the drawer he had just filled, and hauled out a roll of parchment and a fresh quill. He dipped the quill in the inkwell on Twilight’s desk and held it poised over the paper.

“Dear Princess Celestia,” Twilight dictated. “I have recently come across an unusual manuscript, the properties of which are proving quite odd. My attempts to perform a contextual analysis have proven fruitless, and request immediate transport to Canterlot to access the-“

“Slow down!” Spike protested, scribbling furiously. “Is analysis spelled with an ‘i’ or a ‘y’?”

“It’s spelled with a ‘y’,” Twilight sighed. She waited a moment for the dragon to finish and continued. “And I request immediate transport to Canterlot to access the library and general archives, in hopes that I will successfully decode the nature of this curious tome there. I await your swift reply. Your faithful student, Twilight Sparkle.”

P.S, Spike added underneath. I’d recommend getting a quick psychological assessment while I’m there, as I fear I may be losing what little sanity I have-

“It can’t take you that long to write that,” Twilight said, raising an eyebrow.

Spike chuckled nervously and dragged a claw across his postscript, smearing it into a black streak. “Anything else?” he asked, trying to change the subject. Too bad. It would’ve been nice to see how that would’ve gone over.

“Nope,” Twilight said, peering out the window. “Go ahead and send it.”

The dragon was already blotting the ink with a clawful of sand. He deftly rolled it into a tight cylinder and bathed it in a stream of green fire, incinerating in and sending it to the princess. “I wouldn’t get my hopes up, though. I heard things are a little hectic in Canterlot right now-“

“I know, something about a forest fire over in the east. Near the Griffon Empire, right? But there’s not really much the princess can do about it, is there? So she should at least be able to get back to me sometime-“

A loud belch interrupted her, and she ducked out of the way of the stream of flame, yelping. She’d expected a prompt reply, but this early even by her expectations. The princess would barely have had time to read her message.

Nevertheless, she unrolled the parchment and squinted at the unfamiliar calligraphy. The letter was composed of a single line of text, in a hoofwriting entirely different from the princess’. It read simply: Do not assume. Some things are not as they seem.

It was unsigned, and bore no other markings. Twilight turned it over, to see if there was a seal or something to identify the sender, but saw nothing. “Weird,” she muttered, crumpling the parchment in a ball. Whatever the odd letter was, it was most definitely not from the princess.

“What’s it say?” Spike asked, chewing on a piece of cheese from the icebox.

“Nothing important,” Twilight replied. “It was probably sent by accident. Don’t worry about it.”

The dragon shrugged. “You’d think that since I’m a living postbox, I’d get to read-“

Twilight dodged out of a second stream of flame, and snatched the letter, this one adorned by the sun emblem that was Celestia’s personal seal, out of the air.

“My dear student,” she read aloud. “I regret to inform you…that I simply can’t accommodate your request…”

She frowned and kept reading, falling silent. “But…this doesn’t make sense! Of course this is important!”

Spike grabbed her face in his claws. “Twilight,” he said firmly, “Get a hold of yourself. It’s just a book. You’re getting obsessed over nothing.”

Twilight’s eyes softened. “I…I know. You’re right. It’s just a book, after all. Just some crazy, mixed-up book.”

“That’s the spirit!” Spike crowed, releasing her. “Now, let’s grab a couple of those bok choy stir fries you like so much, and put all this behind us!”

The unicorn nodded, suddenly seeming strangely detached. “Unless…” she muttered.

"Twilight," the dragon warned. "Remember what happened the last time you got this obsessed? Let it go."

"No," she said with sudden vehemence. "I won't let it go. You know why? I'm right! This book is important, and I'm going to find out why! And as for getting to Canterlot..."

Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll have to find my own way.”

Spike sighed. “Well, there’s no point in talking you out of this. I hope you don’t plan on walking the whole way.”

“Of course not!” Twilight laughed. “I mean if there was no other alternative, I would. But there’s a much better way to get to Canterlot. There’s a train heading there tomorrow. And I plan to be on it.”

Spike frowned. “Can’t you just teleport?”

Twilight actually seemed horrified by the idea. “Spike, I can manage a couple feet without too much trouble. If I focus, I can get across town. But I don’t think even Celestia’s strong enough to get all the way to Canterlot from here. Besides, I can’t exactly just appear in the middle of the throne room.”

Spike grunted. Every time he seemed to have a good idea…

“In the meantime, can you grab me the third volume of Starswirl the Bearded’s biography? I think I remember he crafted a few changing books…”

The dragon sighed and scanned the shelves. So much for a quick break.

XXX

“Hey! Macintosh! Ah could use some help out here!”

The red stallion carefully positioned his bookmark along the spine, and carefully flipped the book closed. Twilight had lent the novel to him almost a week ago from her personal collection, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t giving it back to her in the exact same condition he’d got it in. “Comin’,” he called, rising to his hooves.

Outside, he met Applejack as she was sending off the two stallions helping her with the load of wood. “Thank ye kindly,” she called.

“Any time,” one called back.

Macintosh frowned at them “You know ‘em?”

His sister chuckled. “No. Ah was perfectly capable of pullin’ this load by myself, but these two gentlecolts insisted. Chivalry. Ah’ll never understand it.”

Macintosh said nothing. It was painfully obvious that Applejack was avoiding the issue. “How much?” he asked.

Applejack winced. “Ah was hopin’ you’d avoid that.”

The stallion gave her a pointed look. His sister sighed, breaking eye contact. “He pushed the price up to half a bit per board foot. This load ran me ‘bout two hundred.”

Macintosh sucked in a sharp breath. That was up almost a tenth of a bit from the last time they were there. “Did he have a reason?”

Applejack shook her head angrily. “That there’s the part that bugs me! His best excuse was some line ‘bout supply an’ demand, whatever the hay that is. That and some forest fire east of here. Son of an inbred cow jus’ got greedy, Ah guess.”

The stallion sighed. “Ah did the math a bit earlier. Even if prices stayed th’ same, we’d still be short about five hundred. Luck jus’ don’t seem to be cooperatin’ with us right now.”

They remained silent as they hitched themselves up to the cart of lumber and pulled it toward the barn. It wasn’t until they were both inside that Applejack finally spoke. “Macintosh…what are we gonna do?”

Macintsh looked down into his sister’s eyes. They were wide and afraid; he hadn’t seen them like that in years. “We’ll figure somthin’ out,” he said. “Even if we don’t have enough money t’ get through the winter, we’ll make it. Somehow.” His voice conveyed a confidence he didn’t really feel, but it seemed to have the right effect on his sister.

“Ah hope so,” she said. “Cause if we don’t get some extra cash, and fast, we’re in for a rough winter.”

“So Scootaloo was right?”

Both earth ponies looked up the stairs, shock mirrored on their faces. Applebloom was standing on the landing, fidgeting nervously. “Is it true? That th’ farm’s in trouble?”

“Don’t you worry your head none,” Applejack said, her voice sounding hollow even to her own ears. “Jus’ me and your brother havin’ some adult talk-“

“Ah’m not a baby any more!” Applebloom snapped, stomping a hoof. “Ah deserve t’ know what’s goin’ on!”

“Go t’ bed, Applebloom,” Big Macintosh said, his voice carrying the subtle weight of adult authority. “We’ll talk ‘bout this in the morning.”

The yellow filly turned and reluctantly walked to her room, determination etched on her face. She’d show them. She could take care of herself.

XXX

It was near nightfall when Celestia decided to check on her new artist. It must have been bewildering to him after all, especially considering the hardships he’d endured on the way to Canterlot.

As some form of recompense, she’d had him placed in one of the more opulent guest chambers. His one curious request had been for a room with a view of the city, which the solar princess had been more than happy to accommodate.

She paused for a moment at the door, taking a moment to compose herself. Then she raised a hoof and knocked on the lacquered mahogany.

To her surprise, there was no response from the other side. The alicorn frowned, and knocked again, louder this time. Still nothing.

Maybe he’s in the kitchens, getting a snack, she thought, before dismissing the notion. Dinner had been brought to his quarters barely an hour ago.

Patience exhausted, Celestia pushed the door open, wincing at the slight squeal of ungreased hinges. Once inside, she took a quick look around. Midnight had brought so few possessions that it was difficult to tell if he was settled in or not, and most of the furnishings appeared untouched.

She was just about to leave when she caught sight of some movement at the far side of the room. Celestia took a hesitant step forward, and relaxed when she recognized Midnight’s silhouette, partially masked by shadows. The stallion was staring fixedly out his window, horn giving off a faint sheen of magic.

“I apologize if I am intruding,” Celestia said. “I just wanted to see how you are settling in.”

Midnight didn’t respond. Instead, his horn glowed with the faint sheen indicative of unicorn telekinesis.

Celestia frowned and began to repeat herself, before realizing the stallion was simply ignoring her. Just who does he think he is? she fumed. It’s one thing to ignore royalty. It’s quite another to ignore your host!

She stomped forward, poised to give the unicorn a severe tongue-lashing…and stopped once she realized what the focus of his attention was.

The unicorn was standing in front of the window, as Celestia had seen earlier, but what she hadn’t seen was the easel set up to his left. On it sat a small canvas, shining with the fresh paint of an unfinished, but spectacular work of art.

At first, Celestia thought it was a simple painting of the view from the window. Then she realized that the richly detailed landscape was nothing but a background. The real focus was a sprig of ivy growing along the stone of the castle wall, that
had intruded slightly through the window.

The ivy and the stone it grew from was rendered in such stunning detail that the princess couldn’t fathom how it needed any additions. Yet the stallion continued to make miniscule changes, lightly stroking the canvas with a fine brush. And he’d evidently painted the ivy at near the precise moment of sunset, for the leaves were bathed in the wonderous mix of reds, oranges and pinks that marked the boundary between Celestia’s day and Luna’s night.

So absorbed was Celestia by the painting that she didn’t notice when Midnight turned to her, a bemused expression on his face.

“Forgive me,” he said, startling her. “I would have answered earlier, but my work required my undivided attention.”

“I…I’m sorry if I caught you at a bad time,” Celestia stammered, backing away.

“Quite the opposite,” Midnight replied, dunking his brushes in a small container of a foul-smelling solution. “You came at a perfect time. The reflection of the sunlight off your mane added just the thing I needed to the painting. I wasn’t really satisfied with it until I added that.”

The solar princess cleared her throat and fought to regain her composure. “Yes. Well. I see you had no difficulties settling in.”

Midnight frowned. “Well, there was one. Your sister…Luna, is it? Well, she seemed to think I was an intruder of some kind. It took some quick talking on my part. Might I mention that her conjuration skills are particularly impressive? It takes a firmly disciplined mind to create and hold a lance to match the complexity of the one she was holding at my throat.”

Celestia blinked. It wasn’t the fact that her sister had interrogated the unicorn at spearpoint that surprised her. It was that his tone could be likened to a pony discussing the weather. “Well, I…must apologize for my sister’s behavior,” she sputtered, her composure well and truly lost. “I’ll have to have a word with her about that. Her blood runs a little hotter than mine, you see.”

Midnight then surprised her again by throwing back his head and laughing heartily. “No worries at all, your Highness. If anything, it was the most fun I’ve had all week.”

Well, that was it. Celestia’s smile cracked on her face. A moment later she was doubled over, tears streaming down her face, howling with laughter. A moment later, Midnight joined her, the two of them sharing the humor of a joke neither really understood.

Ruses and Meetings

There was something that never got old about relaxing on a cloud. Maybe it was the way it conformed to her body, pressing into her aching flight muscles just so…or maybe it was the fact that she was on a cloud.

Either way, Rainbow Dash had decided a long time ago that clouds were her favorite places to catch a nap after a hard practice session. Or to recline on while reading a novel.

Or, in this case, both. An hour or so of Daring Do was an excellent reward for successfully performing a seven-twenty reverse loop followed by a...well, it was awesome. Leave it at that.

Though in reality, it couldn't compare to stealing a two-hundred karat diamond from under a dragon's nose, as Daring Do was doing at that precise moment. Turned out that diamond had to be used to activate an ancient refractory array showing the path to...

Just as she turned the page, the ache had faded from her muscles, replaced with that maddening itch to get up and get moving. Rainbow Dash cast a longing glance at the book, but her body was not to be denied. If she stayed still, that itch would just get worse and worse, no matter how good the book was.

She finally relented and tucked the book under one of her forelegs, pressing it against the side of her chest. She'd fly home, drop the book off, and then do some more flying before dealing with those encroaching clouds.

A moment after unfurling her wings and taking to the air, she noticed a light blue blur alarmingly close to her left. The other pegasus blended in with the sky almost perfectly, and was quickly growing larger and larger…

Oh.

The two pegasi collided in an explosion of feathers, the impact stunning both for a moment. Dammit! she thought as the book was knocked from her grasp and spiralled toward the ground. Twilight was going to kill her. Of course, the ground was likely going to do that first.

After a moment, she managed to snap her wings open and level herself off. The other pegasus circled down to join her, having managed to do the same an instant before. Dash abandoned any hope of retrieving the book and decided to take her frustration out on the one responsible for its loss.

“What the hay is wrong with you?” she yelled, wincing as her flight muscles screamed in protest. “Ever heard of looking, you feather-brained idiot?”

The other pegasus, a stallion, now that Dash had gotten a good look at him, puffed his chest out in indignation. “Says the one who jumped off a cloud without even looking. You don’t own the sky, you know.”

Rainbow Dash frowned, momentarily stymied. He had a good point. But she couldn’t let him have the last word. “Well…neither do you,” she shot back.

The mystery pegasus looked back over his shoulder, as if somepony was following him. "Well...if neither of us was hurt, it should be fine. You're okay, right?"

He suddenly frowned and narrowed his eyes. “Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?”

Dash’s eyes widened. No wonder the pegasus looked familiar! She’d just never seen him before without his uniform.

Her mouth worked for a moment, but no sound came out. A second try resulted in a couple feeble squeaks that would have put Fluttershy to shame.

Finally, she managed to get something out. “Soarin?” she gasped.

The Wonderbolt brightened. “I’ve got it! You’re Rainbow Dash!”

Dash managed to draw her composure together into something resembling her usual swagger. “The one and only.” Her voice shook, betraying her nervousness. Half of her wanted to scream like an obsessed fangirl and

An awkward silence followed, which the cyan pegasus broke by chuckling meekly. “I guess I owe you an apology for getting in your way like that.”

Soarin shrugged. “Like I said, neither of us was hurt. Don’t worry about it.”

Rainbow mentally slapped herself. Of all the people to slam into, it had to be one of her idols. “Anyway,” she said nervously, “I can see you’re in a rush, so I’ll just-“

Soarin laughed. “I’m not in a rush!” He frowned, and reconsidered. “Well, maybe I am. I was just trying to get away from Spitfire.” His expression darkened a touch when he mentioned the Wonerbolt captain’s name.

“Any reason?” Dash said.

Soarin grinned nervously. “Me and Spitfire had a…falling out. I’m just flying around until things cool down. With any luck, she’s lost sight of me.”

The cyan pegasus cocked her head. “Hey, she can’t be that mad.”

“Wanna bet?” the Wonderbolt responded. “I decided to get out of there as she was describing, in very precise detail, might I add, exactly how badly she was going to hurt me. She was just mentioning which wing bones she was going to break when I decided to leave.”

Dash shrugged. “Doesn’t seem so bad.”

“Oh, right. Forgot to mention that Fleetfoot, Rapidfire and High Winds were all holding her down at the moment. She broke free when I went out the nearest window.”

Now that the cyan pegasus knew what to look for, she noticed the skin around the stallion’s eye was darkening slightly. “I take it she got a shot or two in?”

Soarin’s ears flattened. “She caught me by surprise!” he said indignantly.

“Sure she did,” Dash teased. “You just don’t want to admit you lost a fight. I probably could’ve taken her!”

The Wonderbolt suddenly gave her a very serious look. “Don’t say that when Spitfire’s in earshot. Last colt that said that ended up breathing through a tube for six weeks. She’s not angry very often, but when she is…it’s scary. Hay, I’d know better than anypony else.”

Rainbow Dash smiled slightly. For some reason, a vastly entertaining image of Spitfire beating the tar out of the larger pegasus' face popped into her head.

"What's so funny?" Soarin asked, frowning.

Say something! she screamed to herself. Anything! Don’t just gape like some dumbstruck foal!

“Cupcakes!” she blurted.

Soarin frowned. “I’m not sure what-“

“I mean…” Dash mentally slapped herself. “We should go to Sugarcube Corner. It’s a good place to hang out. And if you’re hungry…”

She mentally slapped herself again. Now it sounded like she was asking him out. Abort! her mind screamed. Change the topic!

Right as she was forcing her disobedient tongue to form a logical sentence about the weather, Soarin nodded. “Why not? I feel like a pie or two anyway.”

Dash immediately bit her tongue, hoping it would be enough to stop her carefully prepared query about the weather from passing her lips. She ignored the pain in her mouth and nodded dumbly. “This way,” she managed, flying to Ponyville’s main square.

XXX

Big Macintosh trotted over to the train station, casting the occasional nervous glance over his shoulder. It appeared his ruse
had worked.

The night before, he’d gone to bed early, complaining of nausea and a slight headache. In the early morning, he’d snuck out and galloped around the property, trying to work up as heavy a sweat as possible. When he returned to his bed, around the time Applejack would have woken up, he appeared to be in the grips of a severe fever.

His sister had taken the bait, hook, line and sinker. Her concerned questions were deflected with an insistence that he simply needed some rest, and to go finish the barn floor without him.

Moments after she had left, Macintosh had grabbed what he could in the way of formal wear, snuck out the window and made a beeline for the train station. Hopefully, by the time his sister realized she’d been deceived, he’d be well on his way to Canterlot. And the bundled clothes under the sheets might fool her for another couple minutes.

He hated deceiving Applejack, but he saw no other solution. The farm needed an infusion of cash, simple as that. They simply didn’t have the know-how to mill their own wood, and there was no chance of salvaging any from the barn.

To top it all off, they’d used up their stock of preserves over the previous winter in anticipation of the cost of the barn. Their root cellar was completely empty.

Which all lead to why Big Macintosh was going to Canterlot. He was going to speak directly to Princess Celestia about a boon Applejack would never even consider.

He was going to ask for a loan.

The draught horse had thought long and hard about it, and had decided there was no other solution. The Apple family simply couldn’t get through the winter without help, and the last thing he wanted to do was burden his cousins with their problems.

The only issue was how Applejack would react to-

Something slammed into his side, knocking him off balance for a moment. For a second, the stallion’s brain flooded with panic, leaping to the conclusion that his sister had discovered his ruse and come to drag him back to the farm…

Then he realized that if it was his sister, he’d likely be on the ground, getting the stuffing bucked out of him. This realization prompted him to look down, into the startled eyes of a familiar violet unicorn.

“Ah’m sorry ‘bout that, Miss Sparkle,” Macintosh drawled, helping his sister’s friend to her hooves.

Twilight shook her head. “No, I should be apologizing. I was rushing to the train station, and wasn’t looking where I was going, and-“

“Did my sister send you?” Macintosh asked sharply.

The purple unicorn frowned. “No.”

The red stallion sighed in relief. “All right. You had me worried fer a second. Applejack don’t know Ah’m out here.”

He jerked his head toward the train station. “Seems we’re both goin’ to th’ same place, anyway.”

Twilight nodded slowly, brow furrowed. From the little time he’d spent with her, Macintosh recognized that as being suddenly deep in thought. He shook his head and led her onto the train.

She glanced back, to where Macintosh was exchanging quiet words with the conductor. “You coming?”

“Jus’ a moment,” Macintosh called back.

Him and the conductor seemed to reach an accord, for both nodded, and the draught horse joined Twilight on the train.
Both ponies went to separate compartments as the steam engine hissed to life, and the conductor hauled on the whistle, warning away anypony stupid enough to be on the tracks.

Macintosh squeezed himself into a bed that was much too small for him, and stared out the window, watching the countryside go past. The clothing he planned to wear during his audience with the princess was stowed safely under the seat.

It was a little surprising to run into Twilight, but the unicorn had to go to Canterlot too. Maybe he could get her to show him around the city a bit when they’d finished their respective errands.

XXX

“But then after I had the whole thing set up, a stray wind whipped everything into a cumulonimbus thunderhead! Nothing I couldn’t handle, but I got my wings ruffled a bit. Lost a primary or two on the right one.”

Soarin shut his mouth with considerable effort. “Wow,” he said. “I just thought you guys had to move clouds around. I never thought there was so much skill involved in it.”

Rainbow’s starved ego screamed at her to accept the praise and sate its appetite, but she managed to keep it down. “It’s mostly just practice. That and knowing your limits. Don’t get me started on the time I tried to calm that waterspout. Long story short: I got thrown to land and ended up with three broken ribs and a mild concussion. Not something I would ever recommend.”

The Wonderbolt raised an eyebrow, mouth currently occupied with a bite of cherry pie. “You’re being too modest,” he said when he swallowed. “Ponies have been killed trying that. How the hay Spitfire has never heard of you is completely beyond me.”

He hastily backtracked once he saw Rainbow’s wounded expression. “Before the Best Young Flier’s competition, I mean.

Soarin turned his attention back to the pie, closing his eyes in bliss. “Mmm. These Cake ponies are misnamed. They should be called the Pies.”

Dash chuckled. “Pinkie would say they should be called the Cupcakes. And a certain mailmare thinks they should be called the Muffins…”

“Oh, so that’s what Derpy’s up to these days?” Soarin asked.

The cyan pegasus chuckled nervously. “Don’t call her that when she’s in earshot. She’s not a fan of that nickname.”

Soarin reflexively looked around the bakery before being distracted again by the last few crumbs of pie. “I might have to ask for the recipe for this,” he said, brushing crumbs from his muzzle.

“Don’t let Applejack hear that,” Rainbow said. “She always gets a little protective when her apple pie’s concerned.”

Soarin, along with half the customers in the bakery, nearly jumped out of his skin when the door slammed open.

“Speak of the devil,” Rainbow said, being one of the only ponies present to keep her cool. Odd, that. She’d honestly expected talking with one of her idols to give her the most fragile nerves in the building.

Still, she found herself still feeling oddly mellow when a very irate Applejack stomped into Sugarcube Corner.

“Any of y’all seen my brother?” she asked without preamble.

Silence and a few shaken heads were her only answer. “Ponyfeathers,” the earth pony spat, stomping in frustration.
Mr. Cake flinched. “Now Applejack, there’s no call for that kind of language here. There are babies here, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Beside him, Pinkie Pie gasped, and belatedly clapped her hooves over the ears of the two foals frolicking in the corner.

Applejack managed to hold back a profanity-laden retort only through a supreme effort of will. “Beggin’ your pardon,” she said stiffly. “If none of y’all have seen him, then Ah’ll be on my way.”

She stormed out of the shop, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the frame. Dash stared after her for a moment, rendered speechless.

Soarin cleared his throat. “She seemed a lot nicer when she sold me that pie.”

Rainbow Dash shook her head. “Something’s wrong. I haven’t seen her that angry since…well, in a while.”

She looked up. “Sorry. Can you handle yourself here for a bit? I’ve gotta go talk to her.”

The Wonderbolt shrugged. “No problem. I can always hide under the table if Spitfire walks in.”

Dash frowned, making a mental note to ask exactly what Soarin had done. But for the moment, she had an angry friend to grill.

She caught up with Applejack just outside. “Hey, AJ?” she ventured.

The earth pony turned around, fixing the pegasus with a withering glare. “You got somethin’ important t’ say?”

Dash gritted her teeth. “You know what? Up to this point, I was actually planning to be polite. What the hay is your problem?”

“Good question,” Applejack snarled. “Maybe you should ask m’brother. Oh, wait. He ain’t here!”

Dash scratched her head. “So…what’s the issue?”

The orange pony in front of her took a deep breath, making an obvious effort to calm down. When she spoke, it was in a much more subdued tone. “Last night, he told me he was feelin’ sick. And he sure didn’t look up to doin’ anything this morning. So Ah decided to check on him an hour or so ago, jus’ to see how he was comin’ along, and he wasn’t there. Or anywhere else on th’ property.”

“And your point is…”

Applejack’s eyebrows met. “My point is that the flea-bitten mule lied to me. And when Ah find him…he better talk fast, or Ah’ll be buckin’ his sorry rump all the way back home!”

Dash held up her hooves at that last statement, taken aback by the hostility in her friend’s voice. “Applejack, just chill. He’ll turn up eventually.”

“It’s not even that!” Applejack hollered. “He’s gone, right when Ah really need him!”

She sighed, studying her hooves. “Ah’m not sure how much more a’ this Ah kin take…”

The pegasus swallowed past a lump in her throat. Her friend looked on the verge of tears. She carefully extended a hoof
and placed it on Applejack’s shoulder. To her relief, it wasn’t shaken off. “Take it easy. Slow down and tell me what’s wrong.”

Applejack took a deep shuddering breath, and managed to meet her friend’s eyes. “It’s Applebloom,” she whispered. “She’s disappeared.”

XXX

Midnight stretched in the sunlight, letting the kinks finally work themselves out of his spine. While he made an effort to maintain good posture, standing in front of a canvas for hours wasn’t good for anything, really. Muscles had a tendency to seize up. Now, if only there was some way he could keep-

“Midnight?”

Unlike when Celestia had walked in, the stallion jumped, letting out a yelp of surprise. “Please,” he shouted into the main chamber, pulling his cloak over his back. “Knock before entering!”

He quickly checked his appearance in the mirror before leaving the alcove, making sure everything was in place. It wouldn’t do for his appearance to slip when talking to somepony.

Reassured, Midnight walked out into the main bedchamber, intent on reminding whoever this interloper was that a closed door was not meant to be opened without invitation-

He stopped, blinking. “Oh,” he said. “It’s you.”

Princess Luna backed off slightly. “We hope we are not intruding. We simply thought that since our sister was-“

“You can dispense with the royal ‘we’, you know,” Midnight interjected. “There’s nopony to impress here.”

Luna frowned. “But…we must speak this way to our subjects…”

“Well, I came from outside the borders of Equestria, and therefore am not a subject. So I think we can dispense with that formality. Besides, I could be nobility where I come from. You never know.”

The lunar princess found herself speechless. “Well played,” she finally said.

Midnight inclined his head in thanks. “Now, if you please, I’d like to know why you decided to barge into my room.”

Normally, he wasn’t this touchy, but the near miss earlier had frayed his nerves somewhat.

Luna looked away, blushing slightly. “I…wish to apologize for accosting you earlier. My sister failed to inform me of your presence, and I jumped to conclusions.”

“Out of curiosity,” Midnight said, his good humor beginning to return, “What did you think I was?”

“At first? A spy. Then, seeing by how you were mingling with the guards, I deduced that you were an assassin that had been inserted into the guard force, thereby giving you the greatest probability of…something the matter?”

Midnight wiped his pained smirk off his face. “I’m sorry. Just the thought of me as a guard…it’s laughable, really. I wouldn’t last ten seconds in that armor.”

Luna frowned. “You do not find my other assumptions strange?”

“No. Of course not. They’re all fairly logical, in fact. And I assumed you thought I was an assassin or the like from your reaction.”

Luna blushed again as she remembered slamming the stallion against a wall, conjuring a spear, and pressing the tip to his throat. “I am surprised you are so…unconcerned. I could have killed you there.”

“Oh, I’ve been through worse,” Midnight said seriously. “And no, you wouldn’t have killed me. I could see it in your eyes.”

The lunar princess paused for a long moment, thinking it over. In the heat of the moment, could she really have taken this stallion’s life? She had seen the brutal realities of combat, but had never taken part in it herself.

No, she finally realized. Had the stallion been hostile, she likely would have had the guards do the deed.
She turned her attention back to Midnight, who was examining her face with such direct intensity that it was almost insulting.

“No,” he breathed. “You’re not a killer. That edge I see in some…just isn’t there. An edge that is all too common, I think.”

Luna forced her jaw to work. “Please stop. This is making me uncomfortable.”

Midnight bowed his head. “I apologize, princess. I was merely proving a point.”

The lunar princess quickly stuttered some excuse and left, sweat beading her brow. He’s an artist, she told herself. Artists are prone to eccentricities.

But those odd quirks usually manifested themselves in the form of manic personalities, or unusual interests. This stallion…was different. He seemed too stable to be a mere eccentric.

There was only one conclusion. The carefree, eccentric personality he displayed was an act. What are you hiding, Midnight? Luna thought as she walked to the throne room. And more importantly…why are you hiding it?

Celestia's Proposal

Big Macintosh reached up with a hoof and carefully adjusted his bow tie, pushing it a little closer to a level angle. Then he blew irritably at a strand of hair that seemed intent on dropping into his eyes. Eventually he gave up and left it there, and began performing the incredibly delicate operation of attaching a pair of brass cufflinks.

After stabbing himself repeatedly with the pin, he finally snapped them in place, and studied himself in the mirror. The stallion staring back at him looked surprisingly sophisticated, considering the age of his father’s old suit. The stubborn strand of hair dangling in front of his face actually looked pretty dashing.

He felt ridiculous.

Why rich folk insisted on wearing clothing this restrictive was beyond him. The suit was tight in all the wrong places, especially around the collar. That and the very feel of the suit made him afraid to carry anything. Or even walk. The thing felt so flimsy he was afraid it would fall apart as soon as he so much as sneezed.

But it was expected for him to dress up fancy for royalty, and it was a small price to pay if he could get the bits necessary to keep the farm running.

He glanced out the window as the steam whistle shrieked, announcing their arrival in Canterlot. The tall, fluted spires of the castle were already visible through the dust-encrusted glass.

Macintosh squeezed himself through the door, nodding at the conductor. The conductor nodded back, mouthing ‘You owe me’.

As he passed by Twilight’s compartment, the unicorn emerged, blinking sleep from her eyes. “We here?” she mumbled.

“Eeyup. Guess here’s where we part ways.”

Both paused for a long moment. “I guess…” Twilight said, “I guess I’ll see you later.”

Before getting off the train, the unicorn ducked back into her compartment to run a brush through her unruly mane. Macintosh paid her no mind, focusing on his carefully rehearsed set of lines.

He must have looked strange as he walked through Canterlot: a powerfully built stallion towering at least four hooves above anypony else, wearing a suit he was obviously not comfortable in.

But if the ponies around him noticed, they gave no sign. One even bumped into him, and kept going, never even missing a beat. The pony pretty much reacted as if he’d simply stumbled.

Macintosh shook his head and kept walking, going over his rehearsed lines once more, attempting to mimic Rarity’s cultured diction. “No, I don’t believe we’ve met. Mah…my sister is the Element of Honesty, though. Ah’m…I’m afraid she couldn’t make it today…”

XXX

Twilight walked straight past the castle guards, flashing them a warm smile. They both nodded respectfully back to her, before turning back to looking passively intimidating.

The unicorn sighed as she entered the castle. Some ponies were put off by that ever-present damp smell of stone, but she found it reassuring, almost. It was a smell she associated with books, with comfort and security in knowledge.

Ponies were unreliable. Their opinions might change at the turn of a bit. But a book’s opinion was always the same. The contents weren’t necessarily carved in stone, but who wanted to read a bound collection of stone tablets?

The odd noblepony bustled past her as she made her way down the opulent castle halls, following a long-memorized route to one of the only sanctuaries she ever had. Her hooves clopped off the marble tiles, echoing past the vases, tapestries and paintings lining the walls. Every now and then she would pause to admire a stained glass window or fresco she hadn’t noticed before. The amount of art in the castle was always a bit overwhelming at first.

Finally, she was at her destination, only a pair of guards and a heavy oak door standing in her way. “Good afternoon,” she said, nodding to the closest one, a rather stocky grey unicorn with a failed attempt at a mustache bristling on his upper lip.

Bristle-Lip raised an eyebrow at her. “Can I help you with anything?”

“No. I’m fine. I just need to get into the library, so if you don’t mind…”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” the other guard said. “But we’re not supposed to let anypony into the library. It’s been like that for a couple weeks.”

Twilight frowned. “But…I need to do some research. Can’t you just let me in for a couple hours?”

“Our orders were clear,” Bristle-Lip said. “They came from the princess herself.”

Twilight’s frown deepened. Celestia had ordered the library to be closed? The pony who praised the written word in all its forms?

Note to self: talk to the princess.

Besides, there was still one more thing up her metaphorical sleeve. “Well,” she said, fishing around in one of her saddlebags. “I also happen to have something from the princess herself.”

She brought out a folded sheet of parchment, and levitated it over to the guards. Bristle-Lip grabbed it in a fist of magic and snatched it from her grip, bringing it to his face. Suspicion turned to shock, and then to awe. He read it again, and then a third time, just in case the lettering was playing a cruel prank on him.

“What’s it say?” the other guard asked. Bristle-Lip wordlessly passed the document over, looking at the unicorn mare with newfound respect.

Guard number two frowned, and passed the parchment back to Bristle-Lip. “What do we do about it? It’s got the Royal Seal…”

“I say we let her in.”

“Our orders were clear. Nopony is allowed in.”

“Yeah, well, I bet this unicorn’s got something to do with it.”

Guard number two paused, considering. “All right,” he finally said. “I’ll open the door. But you don’t breathe a word of this. Understand?”

Twilight nodded, folding the parchment back up and replacing it in her saddlebag.

“Good,” the guard said, glancing around and swinging the door open. “I’ll give you three hours.” He held up a hoof, forestalling her objections. “That’s the best I can do. Even that’s pushing it. Take it or leave it.”

Twilight sighed and walked past, trying to suppress her disappointment. Three hours was barely enough to get started. Back before she’d gone to Ponyville, she’d spend days in the library, having meals brought to her and sleeping on a few cushions brought in for that purpose…

She quickly closed the door behind her, after noticing that the guards had been staring at her flanks for a little longer than she was comfortable with. Once the door slammed shut, the musty smell of old books permeated her nostrils. A lazy smile spread across her face as she looked over the massive rows of shelves, each one packed with books.

The fact that the library was deserted didn’t bother her in the slightest. She knew it as well as the back of her hoof, and was already picking out shelves to start checking for possible leads.

Twilight trotted down several of the aisles, pulling books off the shelves with her magic and spreading them across a nearby table. If three hours were all she had, she might be able to get started. If she didn’t waste any time, that is.

At the far end of the library was a little-used passage to the throne room, disguised by a bookcase. Maybe she could catch the princess when she was finished with the day’s petitioners. Maybe then she would listen.

XXX

“Oh, dear me. That won’t do at all. Just trim a little off the edge…perfect! Now you’re looking presentable!”

Rarity glanced up, cutting off her monologue as somepony knocked at the door. “Allow me to direct your attention to the sign on the door,” she said, turning back to her latest design. “It says the store is closed, in case you can’t read.”

“Ah don’t have time for this, Rarity. Now let me in.”

The white unicorn swung the door open, forcing a smile onto her face. “Oh, Applejack. So good to see you.”

Applejack looked around the shop, noting the bits of fabric strewn everywhere. “Ah can see you’re busy, so Ah’ll make it quick. Sweetie Belle around here somewhere?”

Rarity frowned. “Why…no. You just missed her, in fact. Your sister and that other friend of hers showed up not twenty minutes ago. Is something wrong?” she asked, upon seeing Applejack’s expression.

“So now she’s got her friends on it,” the earth pony muttered.

The alabaster unicorn looked outside. There was Rainbow Dash, and…my, my. Who was that stallion beside her? She made a mental note to ask her friend who this newcomer was. Surely a well-built pegasus like that could do with some more civilized company.

Rarity blinked. Applejack had just asked her something. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

Applejack scowled. “Did you hear anything? Like where they might be going?”

“Applejack, you worry too much,” Rarity said, a sudden idea striking her. She quickly levitated a bolt of crimson silk before her and examined it closely. “She’s just gone off with her friends on another of their escapades. I’m so glad they refrained from that ‘Cutie Mark Crusader whatever they planned on doing’ exclamation. They actually kept it down, for once.”

The earth pony fought to keep her expression neutral as Rarity examined another bolt of silk. Rainbow Dash and Soarin slowly walked into the boutique and stood awkwardly beside her. “Well, if you remember anything, let me know.”

Rarity paused for a moment. “There is something,” she said hesitantly. “I’m not sure I heard them right, but your sister was saying something about zap apples. I thought for a second you might be harvesting those again, but then she seemed to change the topic.”

Applejack swallowed, trying to ignore a niggling of worry. “Did you hear what she was talking about after that?”

“Oh, she mentioned timber wolves. I must say, you really should try to limit what ideas go into her head. Timber wolves; what a silly old mare’s tale.”

Rarity glanced over to Applejack, frowning as she took in the expression of dawning horror on her friend’s face. “Something the matter?”

“That idiot filly…Ah swear to Celestia…” She cut herself off and wheeled around. “Rainbow! Soarin! Move your rumps! We gotta move now!”

Rarity blinked. “Soarin? The Soarin? What are you-“

“Long story,” the Wonderbolt said sheepishly.

“Enough of that,” Applejack cut in. “Rarity, if you’ve got your facts straight, my sister’s gone to th’ Everfree Forest. An’ if Ah’m right about what she’s got planned…you’re either coming or you’re not. Choose now.”

Rarity sniffed. “Well, I daresay you could use a little subtlety on this…is this a rescue mission? Very well. I will accompany you.”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “Great. Now can we please move? We don’t have time to waste!”

“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash said. “We’ve wasted enough time already. Me and Soarin’ll fly ahead. We’ll try and see if we can spot them through the canopy.”

“Just do it!” Applejack yelled. The two pegasi jumped, and quickly flew off. The earth pony then turned to Rarity. “An’ Ah don’t want to hear any complainin’, y’hear?”

The alabaster unicorn studied her face. “You’re sure my sister is in danger? Think carefully.”

Applejack nodded grimly. “Ah’m sure.”

Rarity met her eyes, a firm set to her jaw. “Then why are we still here?”

As the two galloped out of town, Applejack fought to keep her mind from repeating one horrible question. What if we’re too late?

XXX

Canterlot Castle certainly lived up to its reputation. The imposing structure towered over the rest of the city, displaying architectural feats that would be impossible without magic. Massive, fluted spires rose hundreds of metres into the air, and vaulted archways cast great shadows over the cobblestone path.

The keep was the icing on the metaphorical cake. To say that it was breathtaking didn’t do the marvel of architecture justice. The white stone making up the keep walls shone in the afternoon sun, the fluted masonry curving gracefully up the walls. It seemed to be hewn from the very mountain Canterlot stood on, merging seamlessly with the rock below. It was a structure that had stood for millennia, and would stand for uncountable ages to come.

For a pony used to acres of apple trees, it was an intimidating sight.

I wonder if the builders were just compensating for something, Macintosh thought dryly as he walked through the series of vaulted archways leading up to the keep. Either that, or the castle had been originally built for something far larger than ponies.

The draught horse joined a steady stream of dignitaries and nobles walking up and down a great stone staircase. Several Royal Guards stood on either side, the sun gleaming off their burnished armor. Silver lances inlaid with gold filigree were cradled against their shoulders, barbed heads pointing at the sky.
Macintosh eyed the guards warily as he passed, but they paid him no mind. Their eyes remained fixed straight ahead, a sternly neutral expression welded to their features.

The great wooden doors lay open before him. He paused at the threshold for a moment, and walked through, shaking his head. It looked like a full-grown dragon could fit through those doors. Focus, he told himself sternly. Just go in, talk to the princess, get the loan. You can sightsee later.

He continued on through the palace, stubbornly ignoring the fine tapestries and paintings appearing every ten metres or so. The throne room lay at the end of the hallway, a squadron of guards standing at the entrance. Unlike the guards outside, their lances were unadorned, deadly steel. They glared at the nobles and merchants passing by, as if every single one was an assassin.

The draught horse continued to the great doors, pausing to straighten his bow tie. Here we go…

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Macintosh lowered his hoof from the oak door. “Uh…Seein’ the princess?”

The guard chuckled. “Get in line. Lots of ponies want to see the princess.”

Macintosh’s heart sank as he realized that what he originally thought was a milling crowd was actually a line of ponies waiting to be addressed. “Take my advice,” the guard said, lowering his voice. “Reserve a spot with the scribe over there, and go sightseeing. Last I checked, there was a two-day wait.”

Two days? the stallion thought with a dull sort of horror. Applejack’s gonna be furious!

“Is there any way Ah could get in early?” he asked, cultured voice forgotten. “Ah’m in a bit of a rush…”

The guard shook his head. “There’s no way. Princess Celestia probably doesn’t even have time to see her student. That forest fire down south is causing a real manurestorm.”

Macintosh sighed. “Thank y’kindly,” he mumbled, walking over to the flustered-looking unicorn standing beside the door, a clipboard levitating beside him.

“Uh…hi there,” he ventured.

The unicorn looked him over. “Another petitioner? Great. What is it now? Land dispute? Complaining about the taxes? Hurry up. I don’t have all day.”

Macintosh blinked. “Actually, Ah just need t’ ask for a loan.”

“Oh,” the scribe replied, flipping through a sheaf of papers. “That makes things easier. I should be able to fit you in…about noon tomorrow. Get here early. Next!”

“Is that it?” the stallion asked, flummoxed. “You don’t need my name or-“

“Next!” the unicorn yelled, ignoring him.

Macintosh bit off an angry retort and walked away. Noon tomorrow. Fantastic. I don’t even have a place to stay for the night.

The guard’s advice returned to him. Go sightseeing.

Fine. He would do just that.

XXX

Mirrors.

That was just about all Macintosh’s stunned mind could register. Mirrors. Dozens of them, making up a hall that stood open at either end. He’d overheard Twilight talking about this hall once. At the time, he wasn’t sure what she was talking about, but this had to be it.

It was the Hall of Radiance. Perfectly oriented east to west, and mirrors positioned just so, to reflect the rays of the sun throughout the hall. Just before sunrise and sunset, the reflections were perfectly aligned, making the corridor almost blindingly bright. According to the studious unicorn, it was something that had to be seen to be believed.

Macintosh couldn’t help but share that opinion now. Only when seeing it could he appreciate the meticulous care that went into the hall of mirrors. Each silvered pane had to be perfectly positioned; a shift of even a fraction of a degree would skew the entire sequence. The precision required for such a feat…it simply boggled the mind.

It was nearing sunset, and the reflections were only just beginning to bounce off the mirrors and onto the floor. The stallion settled back onto his haunches, and waited.

Minutes later, his patience was rewarded as the sun reached the critical point in the sky, illuminating the entire corridor in blinding light. Macintosh squinted and turned his face away, dazzled by the sheer intensity of it. But something about it looked…odd. In the glimpse he’d gotten before the light had become too much, it seemed one of the mirrors had…simply vanished.

You’re seeing things, he chided himself. Too much light.

Sure enough, when he looked back, the light had faded, and the mirror was right where it should have been. Even so, his curiosity had been piqued.

Macintosh sighed and walked into the hall, pausing before the mirror that had seemingly vanished. It didn’t seem anything out of the ordinary at all. “You’re seeing things, big fella,” he remarked to himself, admiring his reflection in the silvered pane. If the clothing wasn’t so ludicrously impractical, he could almost get used to it.

Still, the mirror continued to tickle something in the back of his mind. Something was off, ever so slightly. You’re over-thinking it, he thought, reaching out with a hoof to reassure himself. There’s nothing wrong with this mirror. You’re just being completely para-

His hoof met nothing but air. Macintosh frowned, and leaned forward farther. It was difficult to judge distances with the compounded reflections in the glass, but he was sure his hoof should have touched it by now.

Every time he reached forward, the mirror seemed to retreat, almost. This is ridiculous, Macintosh thought, stepping closer. Why can’t I even touch a stupid-

He took another step and suddenly found himself in a narrow corridor, the mirror that had confused him so placed at the end. What the-

He looked back, to find the hall of mirrors exactly as he had left it. A guard even walked by, and nodded toward him.

Macintosh stepped back into the hall, and peered closely at the suspicious mirror from a new angle. It seemed exactly as before, except…

There. At a certain angle, the mirror abruptly seemed to disappear, and the stone wall of the corridor could be clearly seen. Well I’ll be, Macintosh thought. It’s an optical illusion.

The mirrors weren’t just positioned to reflect the sun. They also reflected each other in such a way that the mirror at the end of the corridor appeared to be part of a seamless wall.

The draught horse paused. Clearly, if the corridor was so well hidden, it was somewhere he definitely shouldn’t be. On the other hoof, curiosity was screaming at him to follow it and see where it went.

Granny Smith always said curiosity killed the cat, he thought grimly. He hesitated for a moment longer. “Who am I kiddin’?” he muttered, starting down the passageway.

XXX

“Did we have to go back into these woods?”

Applebloom cast a sidelong glance at the nervous pegasus beside her, grinning slightly. “You scared or something?”

“No,” Scootaloo said defensively, completely ruining the effect by nervously glancing over at a nearby bush. “It’s just…there’s no room to fly here.”

“You can’t even fly yet,” Sweetie Belle pointed out.

“It’s…it’s instinctive, okay?” Scootaloo shot back.

“Sure it is,” Applebloom teased. “But seriously, relax. We’ve been through here before.”

“Sure,” the pegasus filly said. “And we ran straight into a cockatrice.”

Applebloom paused. “Well…that’s beside th’ point! Jus’-“

“What was that?” Scootaloo yelped, jumping back from the bush.

“It’s nothing, you big chicken,” Applebloom sighed. “Let’s just keep going. We ain’t gonna get the zap-apples t’ grow if we just stand here.”

“Wait,” Sweetie Belle said, halting in her tracks. “That’s what we’re here for? I thought it was…well, something else.”

Applebloom shook her head. “Just look for some zap-apple trees. We’ll figure it out from there.”

Scootaloo followed, casting a nervous glance at the bushes. For a moment, she was sure she saw something move in the shadows. Get a hold of yourself, she thought. It’s just your imagination. I bet Rainbow Dash wouldn’t be this scared.

A pair of eyes watched the filly from the concealing darkness as she moved away. For a moment, the creature simply sat there, pondering what it had seen. The yellow one smelled…familiar, almost. Perhaps it was…

The timber wolf moved back into the deep forest, leaving not even a rustling leaf in its path. It was no coincidence that the filly was here, at this time. The pack leader would want to know about this.

XXX

The air smelled musty and cold. The only light came from what was reflected through the Hall of Radiance, and at this point, it had faded to a paltry amount.

It was almost enough to make Macintosh consider turning back. But if he did, he knew he’d regret it. That had always been one of his faults. Legendary self-control? Eeyup. Strength? He had it in spades. Resistance to curiosity? Non-existent.

Almost against his will, his mind conjured up an image of an embarrassing incident in his foalhood, when he decided to investigate exactly why he wasn’t allowed to drink hard cider…by drinking nearly half a barrel. Luckily, Granny Smith had decided his splitting hangover was enough punishment.

Macintosh jerked his mind back to the present and continued down the corridor, treading carefully on the unlit floor. The hidden passage sloped down, presumably into the bowels of the castle. The smell of must and earth told him it had already taken him underground. Now he was starting to have some genuine misgivings. To his knowledge, the only things in castles that were located underground were dungeons. Well…hidden vaults too, but he’d only read about those in the occasional novel borrowed from Twilight.

Nevertheless, dungeons were definitely not somewhere he wanted to be. Curiosity could only take him so far. Time to put this out of his mind.

Macintosh nodded to himself and turned around. Only to have his shoulder and flank catch against the stone wall. You’re kidding me, he thought to himself, trying again. The cold brickwork dug uncomfortably into his skin, and he had to stop, or else become completely wedged. In his curiosity, he had failed to notice the passage was designed for somepony significantly smaller than him.

A cold tendril of fear curled around his heart. The walls suddenly seemed to be closing in on him, and although his chest heaved, he couldn’t take in enough air…

Snap out of it! he yelled at himself. You can’t turn around, so just follow the passage to the end, and turn around there. Simple as that.

The faint glow of torchlight was just visible ahead of him, and it bolstered his resolve. Who cares if it’s not somewhere I’m supposed to be. I’ll be back on my way before anypony even notices.

The passage opened out into a plain stone hallway, lit only by a few torch sconces mounted on the wall. A single wooden door was located at the far side, and seemed to be the only way in or out, apart for the secret passage.

Everything about it screamed that he shouldn’t be there. Macintosh couldn’t agree more. He quickly turned around and started to head back up the passageway…and froze when the wooden door opened and voices echoed through the hall. “Thine fear is most unnecessary. I merely wish to check the security of-“

Macintosh locked eyes with the mare who had just entered the hall, flanked by a pair of guards. For a moment, neither moved. Then the stallion exploded into action and fled up the passageway.

“Seize him!” the mare barked, and rapid hoofbeats began to sound behind the fleeing draught horse.

Of all the rotten times to-

Macintosh suddenly realized that his hooves were no longer hitting the stone floor. A midnight blue glow surrounded his limbs, and to his horror, he began drifting back toward the hall.

“Ah swear, this is just a big misunderstandin’” he started as the mare pulled him back into the hallway.

“Really?” the mare asked. “We think otherwise.”

“Leave us,” she said to the guards. “We can handle this ruffian.”

The two guards bowed, and retreated through the door, seeming visibly relieved. “Most prefer to steer clear of this place,” the mare explained. “And many with good reason.”

Macintosh swallowed. “Ah…Ah take it Ah shouldn’t be here?”

“In truth, you can be anywhere you wish to be.”

The stallion frowned. “That don’t answer my question…”

“Let us ask you a question, red stallion,” the mare said, releasing him from her magic. Macintosh let out a slight grunt as he landed on the ground. “How did you find the passageway? It is known only to a select few. Most are fooled by the illusion.”

“Ah just…somethin’ didn’t look right,” Macintosh mumbled, slowly backing toward the passageway. For some reason, this mystery mare made his hair stand on end. Maybe it was the fact that she was an alicorn, which to his knowledge were exceedingly rare.

“Please don’t try to escape. We can subdue you just as easily as before, so it would serve you no purpose to run.”

The stallion froze with a hoof in midair. “All right. Ah get that Ah’m not supposed to be here. Can you just let me go ‘bout my-“

“Are you nervous in our presence?” the mare asked, sweeping her starry mane over a shoulder. “Even if you do not recognize us, are we…am I…still that…unnerving?”

Macintosh froze. Something about her tone told him that he was treading thin ice. It would be wise to choose his next words very, very carefully. “Not particularly. This place jus’ creeps me out a bit.”

The mare nodded. “Then perhaps we should leave. This way.” She gestured toward the door with a jerk of her head.

The stallion followed hesitantly. “Is…that it? You don’t think Ah’m a spy, or somethin’?”

“A spy would know full well what he had ventured into,” the mare countered, swinging the door open with a tendril of magic. “And, more importantly, he probably wouldn’t allow himself to be found.”

Macintosh frowned. Was that a jab of some kind? “What’s that s’posed to mean?”

“You would prefer I label you a spy and interrogate you as such?”

“That’s not what I said!” Macintosh explained, backtracking frantically.

The mare laughed, a beautiful musical sound. “We only tease, wanderer. Would you favor me with your name?”

“Macintosh Apple,” the stallion said. “My…uh…sister…she’s th’ Element of Honesty an’ all…”

“Oh really?” the mare said, smiling. “And what would you be doing in Canterlot, so far from Ponyville?”

“Long story. Ah need to talk to Celestia ‘bout gettin’ a loan.”

“I’m certain that can be arranged,” the mare said, leading Macintosh into a more well-lit corridor. A pair of guards frowned at them as they passed, but relaxed at slight shake of the mystery mare’s head.

“Ah never got your name,” the stallion supplied, hoping to continue the conversation. Anything to keep his mind off the odd hallway. Just what had he found?

The mare smiled. “Just call us…me…Luna.”

XXX

“Shots!” Midnight called, as he walked into Unshorn Fetlocks, a tavern located near the palace. “A tankard of apple mead, if you please.”

The earth pony bartender glanced up from the counter he was polishing, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Midnight! Great to see you again! Tell you what: this one’s on the house.”

The black unicorn waved a hoof. “Shots, that really isn’t necessary-“

“I insist,” Shots replied, sliding the tankard over. “It’s the least I can do. My wife loves that painting you did of her garden. Might actually have saved our marriage.”

“You give me too much credit,” Midnight said modestly, accepting the mead. “I’m sure your natural charm had something to do with it.”

“I’m not sure if you’re being sarcastic, or if that was a genuine compliment.”

Midnight smiled, sipping his mead. “Compliment, Shots. It was a compliment.”

"With you, it's always hard to tell," Shots replied, going to help another customer. The two had become fast friends after the unicorn had come in one night for a drink. Turned out Shots liked to sketch in his free time, except he mostly did portraits. His work was good, if a little gritty and unformed, and the two spent a pleasant couple hours discussing their various projects.

Shots had been quick to show him a charcoal sketch he kept in a safe under the bar. It was one of his earlier works, he had said sheepishly, but it was by far his favourite. Mainly because the subject was none other than Princess Celestia.

The sketch was fairly rough, and seemed rushed. Several of the details were omitted. But the princess’ face had been rendered in painstaking detail.

When asked why only the face appeared finished, Shots had laughed nervously. It was the only part he could accurately remember, he’d admitted.

Midnight conjured up the image of the sketch in his mind, comparing it to a suitable memory of Celestia. It was easy to see why that was the case. The alicorn’s face was captivating in its beauty. To attempt to describe it wouldn’t do it justice. She was…perfect.

“What’s with the look? You drunk already?”

Midnight roused himself. He’d been staring blankly into space, and bearing an admittedly remarkable resemblance to many of the drunks slumped over their tables. “I was just thinking,” he said.

Shots raised his eyebrows. “Got an idea for another project, have you?”

“Possibly,” the unicorn replied, sipping his mead again. It wasn’t actually that good, but he didn’t really come there to drink, anyway. The tavern served as a good place to clear his head. If he tried to relax in the gardens, he’d find himself painting flowers before he knew it.

The earth pony’s sketch had got him thinking. Portraits were never something he’d really liked. There wasn’t really much to be done about the perspective. It was either profile, three-quarter view or straight on. And he preferred static subjects, that didn’t require cajoling into a certain pose.

And yet he was now feeling an odd compulsion to paint one. And of a very particular equine, at that. Curious, indeed.

Midnight blinked. "I'm sorry. Did you say something?"

Shots chuckled nervously. "I was just pointing out how tense you look. You really need to loosen up sometimes. Have a bit of fun. Hay, I don't think I've ever even seen you drunk."

The black unicorn smiled wryly. "I like to keep my head clear."

The earth pony behind the bar shrugged. "Says the stallion planning his next painting every waking moment. I don't think you'd even talk to me if I didn't sketch at all."

Midnight's eyebrows met. "That is completely uncalled for. I talk to-"

"Name one pony you're friends with who's not an artist."

Midnight opened his mouth to reply, then shut it. "Eh...Does Princess Celestia count?"

Shots' sour look was all the answer he needed.

The door opened behind him, a small bell tinkling to announce the new arrival. Shots looked up, plastering a wide grin on his face. “Welcome to Unshorn Fetlocks! Anythin’ I can get for you to-“

His eyes widened, and he hastily bowed, nearly bashing his head on the counter. The other ponies in the bar quickly did the same thing, conversation trailing off into silence.

Midnight raised an eyebrow, sipping his drink again. Strange. Being the only one in the bar to sit with his back to the door, he had no idea who – or what – had walked in and had such an effect on the patrons. Although if he had to guess…

“Ah, Midnight. I was told I might be able to find you here.”

The black unicorn ignored her, tipping back his tankard and finishing his mead. Only then did he speak. “I’m surprised you came to seek me out personally.”

“Am I above speaking with my subjects every now and then?” Celestia asked.

Midnight chuckled. “I was over this before with your sister. I am not one of your subjects. I came from outside of Equestria, and unless my knowledge of your laws is severely flawed, am a vagrant who is only still here by your good graces.”

He frowned. An odd expression had flashed across the princess’ face when he mentioned her sister. It had only been there for an instant, before it was carefully smoothed over into an indifferent mask. But it had definitely been there.

The solar princess was silent for a long moment. “You there,” she finally said, addressing Shots. “Where have I seen you before?”

The earth pony squeaked in surprise, before drawing himself up and clearing his throat. “The…uh…Summer Sun Festival, your Highness. I was the one…uh…sketching you on the balcony.”

Celestia’s face brightened. “Of course! Shots, is it? It certainly has been a while. Do you still have that sketch?”

Shots blushed furiously. “Well…yes, I do, but it’s more-“

“Good,” Celestia said. “Hang on to it. It would make a good story to tell your foals some day.”

Shots blushed again, looking away. His wife had started showing signs of motherhood several months before. Midnight remembered the night he had announced it with great fondness. His friend had seemed so happy…it was actually one of the only nights Midnght had partaken of more than one tankard of mead. Oddly enough, the flavour had seemed vastly improved after the fifth round. Although he made sure to stop once his thoughts became sluggish. Tipsy was about as far as he wanted to push it.

The white alicorn was silent for another long moment. “Come with me,” she finally said to Midnight. “I would rather we discuss this matter in a more private setting.”

“Of course,” Midnight said, nodding to Shots.

Celestia led him out the door onto the streets of Canterlot. She had just set the sun before coming to find him, it seemed, for Luna’s moon already hung high in the night sky. Most of Canterlot was asleep, save for a few in the taverns too inebriated to remember what night was.

“Even though I haven’t seen you, I have still heard many things,” she finally said, stopping in a small park. “Your art has become quite popular here.”

Midnight shuffled awkwardly. “I’ve been getting requests from many of the nobles for portraits. They have offered substantial sums for my services.”

“But you never accepted,” Celestia said. “Why?”

The black unicorn sighed, adjusting his cloak. “Painting…isn’t something that can be bought. I never plan to paint anything. It just…happens. The money means nothing to me.”

“But you refused to paint what they asked,” Celestia replied. “You refused to paint anything for them.”

“I refused to paint for them because they didn’t truly understand,” Midnight said with sudden vehemence. “They didn’t know what they wanted. ‘Paint me a flower, Midnight. Paint my wife. Paint me a portrait of that wench who caught my eye last night.’”

He shook his head. “I only paint what I find beauty in. The sun silhouetted against the mountains, the morning dew on a leaf, a deer grazing in a field…things that only last an instant, and can never be recreated.”

Midnight chuckled to himself. “It’s…very difficult to explain.”

“Yet you did,” Celestia said warmly. “I understand.”

She was silent for a long moment. “I…want to offer you something. I will not hold it against you if you do not accept.”

Midnight fought to keep his face neutral, heart in his throat. Was she really going to suggest…

“I wish to offer you full citizenship in Equestria, and a position in my court as an artisan. You will have access to any materials you wish for, and all the privileges of a member of the nobility. I will not commission any works from you, and you will be free to paint at your own pace.”

The black unicorn thought for a long moment. It was a fantastic offer, one that many artists would be willing to kill for. It was everything he wanted.

But it held nothing that he needed.

“I…thank you,” he said. “I’m overwhelmed by your generosity. But…I must decline.”

Celestia frowned. “You…don’t want it?”

“I do want it,” Midnight said. “It’s everything I ever hoped for. But…I’ve tried to live my life as freely as possible. My only obligation has been my art. Despite the freedom you say I’d have, I would still be chained down. Please understand, but I can’t accept.”

The solar princess looked at him thoughtfully. “The offer still stands if you change your mind,” she said, raising her wings. With a powerful downstroke, she lifted off the ground and rocketed toward the castle.

“Wait!” Midnight called, although even he wasn’t sure why.

But she was already too far away to hear him.

They Come From the Shadows

Celestia sighed, sinking back into her throne. It had been a long day of petitions from her various subjects. It seemed that both nobles and farmers alike had no end of problems, squabbles, and disputes. In all honesty, most of them could simply be directed to relevant court positions, but the solar princess had learned the hard way that ruling a nation required a more personal touch.

“Who’s next?” she asked the scribe to her right.

The young unicorn blinked and squinted at the registry for a moment. “Nopony. That was the last of them.”

“Thank the stars,” Celestia breathed, lifting herself from the throne. It had been a long, long day. “Please send dinner to my quarters. I wish to-“

“Princess Celestia! A fine day to you!”

The white alicorn looked up, at the griffon dignitary entering the throne room. Her lip curled involuntarily in distaste. While the griffons were tolerated in Equestria, diplomatic relations with them had always been lukewarm at best. The overbearing attitude of the unusual eagle-lion hybrids quickly grated on even the most stoic diplomat’s nerves. Celestia’s were no exception.

She directed a quick glare at the scribe. “I thought that was the last of them!”

“He isn’t on the list!” the scribe replied, flipping through his papers.

“Forgive me for the intrusion,” the griffon said, fiddling with a broach at his throat. “But I have news that I must bring to your attention.”

“Very well,” Celestia said. “Speak.” It was a bit coarse for her, but she’d been looking forward to a glass of mulled wine for several hours now.

The griffon glanced around, at the assembled court. “I would prefer…to speak in a more private setting.”

“Of course,” Celestia replied, before addressing the court. “You’re dismissed.”

The assembled ponies lifted themselves from their chairs and filed out, some grumbling at the breach in protocol, most sighing in relief.

The griffon paused for a long moment. “I hate to ask this of you, but your guards too. The less ears to hear this, the better. I’m not…strictly supposed to be here.”

Celestia remained silent. The guard to her left shifted on his feet. “Very well. Guards. You’re dismissed.”

The pegasus guard turned to her, jaw dropping. “Your Highness, you aren’t actually considering-“

“I can protect myself,” Celestia said. “I shudder to imagine what an unarmed diplomat could do to the one who controls the sun.”

The guard flinched at her sudden hostility, making a pang of guilt claw at Celestia’s heart. He was just doing his job, after all. It wasn’t proper to displace her stress on him. She lowered her tone. “If you wish, you can stay outside the room. But I don’t have any worries.”

The armored pegasus nodded sharply. “By your will, Princess.”

The griffon remained silent until the door closed behind the last of the guards, leaving them alone in the vaulted chamber.
“Forgive me. I haven’t even introduced myself. Aurora Silverwing, at your service.”

“A pleasure,” Celestia said dryly. “Might I ask what an ambassador of the Griffon Empire is doing here?”

“Oh, you must be mistaken,” Aurora said. “I am not an ambassador. I merely bring a message. A warning, of sorts.”

“Very well. What is this message?”

Aurora cleared his throat, and quickly wet it with a drink from a hip flask. He wiped his mouth and offered the flask to Celestia. “This may take some time. You look thirsty.”

The door at the end of the throne room opened, and a unicorn servant walked in, levitating a small dish, upon which was perched a small bottle of wine and a goblet.

"I was under the impression that there would be no interruptions," Aurora snarled, eying the unicorn nervously.

"This was just unfortunate timing," Celestia said, accepting the glass of wine. "I take some wine at this time just about every day."

She frowned at the servant. "Are you new to the staff? I haven't seen you before."

The unicorn bowed. "I was brought in nearly a week ago. Just chance that you haven't seen me yet, I suppose."

Celestia flicked her eyes down to a red spot on the servant's plain white shirt. "Did you spill some wine on yourself?"

The unicorn tensed for a moment, eyes flicking toward Aurora. "I...suppose so. Please excuse me. I'll just..."

Celestia frowned after the unicorn as he scurried toward the door, taking a sip of the wine. It was a pleasant spiced variety, well aged. Although it had an odd sour undercurrent to it...

"You were saying?" she said, taking another sip. Merciful heavens, but she was thirsty.

Aurora smiled slightly. “You seem impatient. A delicate matter such as this cannot be rushed.”

At that point, Celestia lost what little patience she had left.

“Out with it,” she snapped. “You came into my court unannounced and demanded an immediate and private audience. There must be a reason for this secrecy, and I want to know it now.”

The griffon’s infuriatingly calm demeanor never so much as slipped. “Be patient, for there are many things I must explain.”

XXX

Twilight jerked her head up from the book, blinking wildly. One of the pages remained stuck to her face, tearing slightly at the bottom. The unicorn winced and peeled the parchment off her face, struggling to clear her head.

Then it hit her. She had fallen asleep. When she was in the middle of researching!

Son of a…how much time did I lose?

A quick glance out the window told her all she needed to know. The sun had slanted noticeably, indicating that several hours had passed. If she wasn’t already overdue, she didn’t have much time left.

Twilight groaned, turning back to the book. She’d barely even gotten started. And the books she had found were less than useful. Like this one, for instance, gathered during her first pass through the shelves. It had seemed promising at first, but was really the ravings of a deluded madpony. The author drew laughably obscure connections between ancient cultures, all to back up a series of ludicrous apocalypse theories, each one more ridiculous than the last.

The unicorn flipped through the book out of morbid curiosity, acutely aware that she was wasting time, but stopped on a passage that attracted her attention. It contained an illumination of several ponies, kneeling around an altar that held a large book. A monk stood before it, forelegs raised to the heavens.

Several civilizations have, in fact, drawn reference to a type of darkness. It is possibly spawned by the primal fear of the dark, but images from these cultures show eerie similarities. Several hieroglyphic bas-reliefs have been discovered that depict equines and other races fleeing from a solid black object. Archaeologists first assumed the frescoes were simply incomplete, but the appearance of similar works has led them to revise their opinion.

The names for this darkness vary widely. Several llama hieroglyphs describe an intrusion of Xibalba, roughly translated to “place of fear.” Zebras sometimes refer to…

Twilight skipped ahead, past several more cultural comparisons.

…in many of these cultures, it is depicted as an all-consuming void. Oddly enough, the Book of The Stars shows no reference to this kind of phenomenon. Instead, several scholars and monks have been presented with vague references to an entity known only as “Hunger”, which may or may not have been previously encountered. Many historians agree with the former solution, judging by the appearance of a dark void in ancient frescoes…

Twilight’s heart skipped a beat. She quickly reread the passage. The Book of The Stars shows no reference…

Was that it? Could that be the mysterious tome’s title?

She squinted at the faded gold leaf on the cover. If you used your imagination, it almost looked like the constellation Cygnus…but then again, it could also be a simplistic flower.

The unicorn sighed in defeat, slumping. Not only had she fallen asleep at the worst possible time, but now she had nothing to show for her efforts. There was no way Celestia would agree to help without at least an idea of what the book was.

Twilight looked up as the door to the library opened, and somepony walked into the room. It was hard to tell, mainly because a bookshelf was blocking her view of the door, but she could easily infer that it was the guard, signaling her to leave.

A moment later, the door closed again, and soft hoofsteps tracked across the library. The unicorn frowned, and went back to her book, hoping to commit one more passage to memory before leaving. Oddly enough, the hoofsteps continued to the far side of the library.

Twilight scanned the page one last time, and, finding nothing useful, returned it to its place on the shelf with a heavy sigh. What a wasted opportunity…

Maybe the princess could be persuaded to take a look at the tome in her free time. Yes, the unicorn thought dryly. The most powerful pony in Equestria would leap at the opportunity to research a book that makes no sense.

Twilight gently opened the door with magic, making sure nopony in the corridor was there to see her leave. The hallway was deserted. Most of the nobles had likely retired to their chambers, and the tourists and petitioners to the taverns outside the castle.

She walked out of the library, glancing at the entrance to the throne room, just down the vaulted corridor. Celestia was likely finishing an audience of some sort. It would be rude to interrupt.

Wonder how Big Macintosh made out, she thought absently, hoof splashing in something.

Twilight looked down, nose wrinkling in distaste. Who would spill wine in a castle corridor, of all places? Especially with a pair of guards there to-

Only then she caught a whiff of a thick, metallic odour. She glanced down again, horrified. It wasn’t wine she was standing in.

It was blood.

The unicorn glanced behind her, and immediately wished she hadn’t. Both guards were lying prone on either side of the door, eyes glazing over the second mouth carved into their throats. Bristle-Lip was still kicking feebly, blood pumping out of his neck.

Twilight jumped back, stifling a shriek by jamming a hoof into her mouth. She had to fight not to scream again when she realized her hoof was still slick with the guard’s blood.

Bristle-Lip finally went limp, eyes tracking off Twilight and onto some point beyond the horizon. Twilight’s gorge rose, and she dry-heaved twice.

The world around her spun, and started flickering at the edges. It’s just a bad dream, she tried to tell herself. You’re still asleep in the library, and everything is fine, those guards aren’t dead, but they are, this isn’t a dream, they’re dead, dead dead DEAD-

Wait…then who opened the door?

Eyes wide with panic, Twilight poked her head back into the library, half-expecting a blade-wielding monster to lunge out at her. Instead, all she saw was an empty library. Wait…not quite. At the far end, the bookcase blocking the secret passage to the throne room quietly slid back into place, gliding on oiled tracks.

If two guards had been killed in a manner that was supposed to be silent…

Twilight forced her body into action and galloped toward the throne room. She could panic later. But now…all she could do was pray she was wrong.

XXX

Luna stopped Macintosh before a small oak door. “This is the back entrance to the throne room,” she explained, after noticing the earth pony’s suspicious expression. “I promised I would take you there, didn’t I?”

She opened the door slightly and poked her head out. Voices floated through. “She’s in the middle of an audience,” she whispered. “We will have to wait until she finishes.”

“Ah’ve got time,” Macintosh replied.

Luna looked out the door again, frowning. “That is good. This audience may not be over as soon as you think.”

Macintosh shifted on his hooves. For some reason, he couldn’t shake a sense of foreboding. Something just felt plain wrong.

XXX

Celestia leaned forward in her throne. “And what proof do you have of this?”

Aurora adopted a wounded expression. “What times are these, when my word is insufficient? Do you not trust me, your Highness?”

“No,” Celestia replied flatly. “Which is only one of the reasons I don’t believe you. Your empire hasn’t shown the slightest hint of aggression toward us. How am I expected to believe that your armies are massing at the border, especially when my scouts have reported nothing of the kind?”

“Now what kind of army would allow itself to be seen by enemy scouts?” the griffon scoffed.

Celestia thought for a moment. Try as she might, she couldn’t think of a single motivation the Griffon Empire would have in invading their most powerful neighbor. And nearly a dozen for making her waste resources in committing thousands of troops to border defense.

She glanced at the door, frowning. The servant was still standing there, seemingly waiting for something. A grim smile was on his face.

“Mark my words, Princess,” Aurora continued. “The signs are there. You just need to know where to look.”

“Quite true,” the white alicorn replied. “And I now know not to look anywhere in your direction. You are dismissed.” She blinked twice. Her head was suddenly feeling strangely fuzzy.

The griffon smiled slightly. “I didn’t think you would heed my warning. You’re anything if not predictable, Celestia.”

“Get out of my court!” Celestia yelled, stomping a hoof. The effort made the room swim around her.

She collapsed back into the throne, sweat beading her brow. Aurora smiled, striding forward. “But I didn’t come here to warn you. I came to deliver a message.”

“What…what did you do to me?” Celestia panted.

“Trust me,” Aurora said. “I haven’t done anything. Not yet.”

At that moment, Twilight charged through the hidden entrance, horn sparking with power. The servant turned and stared at her, mouth falling open in shock. And all hell broke loose.

XXX

Rainbow Dash winced as yet another unpredictable gust of wind buffeted her wings, making her flight muscles scream in protest. A small part of her felt some satisfaction that Soarin was having just as much trouble as her, but the most part was concerned with finding the three fillies.

I swear, if anything happened to them…

Although she would never admit it, she had a soft spot for Scootaloo. She saw a lot of herself in the spunky pegasus filly, and would never forgive herself if anything happened to her.

The cyan pegasus squinted through the forest canopy, wishing she could see through the densely packed foliage. “Any sign of them?” Soarin called from behind her.

“Nope,” Dash replied, pulling out of a downdraft. The winds over the Everfree Forest whirled in a tortured cyclone, spawning unpredictable gusts, updrafts and currents that would throw an inexperienced pegasus out of the air in seconds.

She wrenched herself back on course and bit off a few choice obscenities after being buffeted by yet another gust. “This is going nowhere,” she called. “There’s a clearing down there. Let’s just land there and search on hoof. I’m not seeing anything from up here anyway.”

“I was about to say the same thing,” Soarin said, tucking his wings in and diving toward the gap in the canopy.

Rainbow Dash chuckled and followed the Wonderbolt through the trees, alighting a bit clumsily on the ground.
Soarin perked his ears up and glanced around, nervousness plastered on his face. The oppressive air of the forest had crept in almost immediately, bringing an uncomfortable mix of claustrophobia and lack of light. “Are you sure they went in here?” he asked. “Hay, I’d want to stay away from here.”

“You haven’t met those three,” Dash said, scanning the surrounding trees. “When they plan something, they don’t back out.”

Both pegasi shuddered as the wind rasped a pair of tree branches against each other. It sounded horribly similar to a whispering voice, beckoning them deeper into the trees.

“We shouldn’t be here,” Soarin muttered.

“Okay, relax,” Dash spat. “Seriously. You’re actually starting to get on my nerves a bit.”

She snorted. “You’d think a Wonderbolt would be a little braver.”

Soarin puffed his chest out, pride wounded. “I’ll show you brave,” he growled, stomping past her into the trees.

Dash smiled. Seemed that had worked. Probably didn’t earn her any points with him, but it stopped his whimpering.
“Applebloom!” she called, skirting a tangled bunch of roots. They looked way too much like a clawed hand for her liking. “Scootaloo!”

Her voice seemed oddly muffled, as if the darkness was absorbing her voice. Against her will, she shivered. The forest was really starting to creep her out.

Soarin crashed through some underbrush, and out onto an overgrown path. He squinted down at some faint impressions in the dirt. “Dash!” he said. “Over here.”

He pointed to the prints. “Small hoofprints. Three sets. That’s got to be them.”

Rainbow Dash nodded grudgingly. The prints were faint enough that she probably would have missed them. “How’d you even see those?”

“I…was in the Search and Rescue Corps before I became a Wonderbolt,” he said sheepishly. “That’s actually where I met Spitfire.”

Dash frowned, following the prints. Search and Rescue? That was certainly a surprise.

“Applebloom!” she called again, filing that away for future reference.

Something rustled to her right. “You see anything, Soarin?” she asked, turning…

And looked directly into a pair of yellow eyes.

Rainbow Dash froze, heart hammering. The eyes watched her, unblinking. She screamed at her body to move, but her limbs felt frozen, transfixed by those oddly glowing eyes.

The creature took a step forward, then another, coming into the light. Dash couldn’t stop a moan of terror from leaving her mouth. It was a timber wolf. The fearsome beast was easily twice as large as normal wolves, and simply radiated ferocity. If it wanted, it could tear her throat out with a single lunge, and there wasn’t a thing she could do to stop it.

The timber wolf stared at her for another long moment, then threw back its head and howled. Dash took several steps back, backing up into a tree.

Answering howls began to ring out from around the path, and more wolves began to emerge from the trees, one by one, until a full pack was arrayed around the terrified pegsasi.

Dash snuck a glance at Soarin. He was also pressed up against a tree, and trembling in terror. An odd mewling sound escaped his throat.

She could see his wings twitching, his muscles tensing for flight. Dash caught his eyes and shook her head. Running would only activate a hunting instinct. He’d be torn out of the sky before he managed a second wingbeat.

For a moment, the pegasus looked like he was going to take off anyway, but then set his jaw and pressed his wings to his sides. “What are you waiting for!” he yelled in challenge. “Come and get me!”

The wolves spared him a glance, but turned their attention back to Rainbow Dash. They seemed to be waiting for something.

Dash wet her lips. “Uh…nice doggy?”

A final howl echoed from behind the assembled wolves, and what could only be the leader of the pack loped out into the light. The glowing yellow eyes stared balefully at Rainbow Dash over a knotted and scarred muzzle.

The pegasus’ eyes widened as a vast, unfamiliar consciousness touched her own.

These are not your hunting grounds. Why have you come?

It didn’t speak in words, but a series of images and sensations. It took her a moment to realize that the one speaking was
the wolf.

You…can talk?

Many believe us to be mindless beasts. Though we are insulted by it, we do not seek to change their mind. I will ask again: why have you come?

“Dash?” Soarin whimpered. “What’s he-“

Why have you come???

Rainbow Dash winced. I’m looking for somepony. Three fillies.

They are with us. Safe. You seek to bring them to their pack?

Well…yeah. I guess. Can we-

They are lucky they met only us, and not one of the other beings that call these woods home. As are you. And your companions.

Dash took to the air, hovering before the ancient timber wolf. “What have you done with Rarity and Applejack?”

They are also safe. The one-of-the-earth was stubborn, but she saw reason in time.

Dash shook her head in confusion, once again forgetting to think her response. “What are you?”

The timber wolf responded by flooding her head with images. Running through the forest, the smell of dew on the air, fangs piercing a deer’s hide, watching from the shadows of the forest, running proud and free through a field of grass…

We are hunters. We watch the wind and the trees and the stars. We are the stone and the moss that grows upon it. We have seen many things. But now our eyes have been clouded. All we see now…is blackness.

The timber wolf released her mind and howled, the sound ringing both through the air and the pegasus’ mind. It carried a sense of finality, of eternity, of imposible distances traveled in the blink of an eye...

Dash staggered, head spinning, suddenly overcome by the unfamiliar feeling of extreme vertigo. Just before she passed out, the wolf spoke one last time. Something has begun. Something we cannot see. And we…are afraid.

XXX

The moment Celestia collapsed, Luna knew that something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. She had just barely taken a step forward when Celestia’s student had charged into the room, horn throwing a brilliant red light against the walls…

Scouring away the shadows cloaking two unicorns approaching the throne. Another unicorn, garbed in servant's clothing, knocked Twilight to the side with a blast of magic and raced forward to join the others.

There was one reason and one reason only that ponies would want to approach the princess without being seen. Luna howled in rage and charged out into the throne room, throwing a magical barrier between her sister and the three assassins.

The barrier went up just in time to deflect a swarm of magic spikes, simple weapons conjured from pure magical energy. Unfortunately for the assassins, Luna knew the same trick.

The moon princess jerked her head and conjured a shining spear, sending it flying at the nearest unicorn. The assassin leapt out of the way, and the spear buried itself in the floor, cutting through stone as if it were butter.

Luna didn’t waste time pulling it out. Instead, she banished it and conjured a new one. This time, she didn’t miss. The glowing spear punched through the unicorn’s neck before he had even landed, tearing through muscle and cartilage with a sickening crunch.

The surviving assassins turned their attention to this more serious threat, and began hailing magical spikes at her from every direction.

Luna snarled in anger, banishing the spear and focusing every ounce of her energy on deflecting the conjured weapons. Although she was powerful, much of her strength had still not returned. Even now, she felt herself weakening, although the assassins barely showed any stress at all. Blocking attacks was far more taxing than flinging them, and fending off dozens of strikes was quickly taking its toll.

Macintosh had barely even taken in the situation before Luna killed the first assassin. For an instant, he held fast, unable to believe what he was seeing. Then a glowing spike got past Luna’s guard and sliced into her shoulder, prompting a grunt of pain.

That galvanized him into action. The draught horse exploded out of the door at a full gallop, focusing on the closest unicorn. The assassin didn’t notice him until it was too late.

Macintosh slammed into the unicorn, putting every ounce of force his fifteen-hundred pound body could muster into the triangular point of his shoulder. The impact would have probably killed an unprotected pony. But the assassin managed to throw up a weak barrier at the last second, and deflect some of the force.

Macintosh fell on top of the stunned unicorn, intending to restrain him until Luna finished off the other. His plan changed when the assassin flipped out a small blade strapped to the end of his hoof and rammed it into the side of his chest.

Macintosh yelled in pain and stomped down on the assassin’s horn, it being the first part he could reach. The ivory-like surface cracked, and the unicorn let out a reedy wail. He stomped again, breaking the horn off entirely, and taking part of the unicorn’s scalp with it. A jolt of wild magic ran back up his leg, making his heart stutter for a moment before resuming a normal rhythm.

The effect was far more pronounced on the assassin. The unicorn convulsed, eyes rolling back in their sockets. A moment later he went limp, a dribble of yellow foam leaking out of his mouth.

Behind him, Luna let out a wild cry and seized the last assassin with her magic, flinging him across the room. He struck a pillar head-first and slid down, head lolling on a broken neck. She quickly took advantage of the respite to conjure an ornate set of silver armor, which quickly affixed itself to her head, neck and chest.

Less than thirty seconds had elapsed. The griffon diplomat – if he could be called that –barely had time to realize how awry his plan had gone.

Luna seized the griffon in a fist of magic and pressed a newly conjured spear to his throat. “Give us one good reason not to end your pathetic existence.”

The griffon’s response was not what she expected. He threw back his head and laughed. “You think I expect to leave here alive? Even if we had succeeded, I never would have left with my life. There is nothing you can do to threaten me.”

“Oh, really?” Luna snarled, tightening her grip. “I can have you die in agony as your skin in flayed from your body. I can shatter your bones with but a thought.”

“I cower in fear,” Aurora chuckled.

Celestia forced herself from the throne, her latent magic having slowly cleansed the paralyzing poison from her body. “Luna, hold.”

“He tried to kill you!” Luna snarled, pressing the spear harder against the soft flesh of the griffon’s throat. “He expected death. Let me deal it to him!”

“Would you appoint yourself his executioner, sister?”

Luna didn’t respond for a moment. Then, with a snarl, she banished the spear and released Aurora.

Celestia approached the griffon, swaying slightly on her hooves. She was still dizzy from the effects of the poison. “I ask only this. Why?”

Aurora laughed. “How can I answer? Would you have me answer for the will of the universe?”

Celestia’s eyebrows met. “Give me a straight answer, damn you!”

“I would ask a question of you now, Celestia,” Aurora said, ignoring her. “What really happened a millennia ago? When your sister became the nightmare?”

“That is not something you should be-“

“Tell us what truly happened, Princess,” the griffon spat. “Tell us about Midnight.”

Celestia froze. Then she carefully wrapped a tendril of magic around the griffon’s throat. “How do you know that name?” she whispered.

Aurora only answered with a mocking laugh.

“Where did you learn that name!?” Celestia roared, roughly shaking the griffon. “Tell me!”

“You’re blind, Celestia,” Aurora sneered. “You don’t realize that the past is never forgotten. No matter how hard you try to erase it.”

The alicorn tightened her grip, tears blurring her vision. “It wasn’t my fault,” she snarled. “You have no right to judge me!”

“I have every right,” the griffon gasped. “Everyone must pay for their crimes.”

“I had no choice!” Celestia screamed, shaking the griffon back and forth like a ragdoll.

Aurora let out a strangled gasp, eyes bulging. A brittle crunch filled the air as his trachea collapsed under the pressure of the magical vise, inadvertently tightened in the solar princess’ fury.

Celestia released him and took an involuntary step back. Aurora clawed at his throat, making a strangled wheezing sound. His eyes showed no fear. Only a strange sort of…satisfaction.

The alicorn made a quick decision and snapped his neck with a whip of magic, ending his suffering; a mercy he didn’t altogether deserve.

“Princess?”

Celestia jerked her head up, and looked into her pupil’s terrified eyes. They were brimming with tears, and she saw herself reflected in them. Not as a figure she revered, or as a magnificent ruler. The only thing she saw reflected in Twilight’s eyes was a monster.

And why should she see anything different? She had just watched her mentor, her ruler, the symbol of justice and fairness, kill a creature in cold blood.

“Twilight-“

The unicorn let out a choked sob and galloped out of the throne room, tears streaming from her eyes. “Twilight, wait!”
Celestia called, raising a hoof as if she could physically pull her pupil back to her side. Guards galloped into the room, weapons at the ready. The princess was dimly aware of the captain giving orders to raise the alarm and search the castle.

She started after her, but was stopped by her sister. “Let her go,” Luna said. “Your comfort is not what she needs now.”

Though it pained her, she knew Luna was right. Twilight needed to nurse her wounds by herself.

But they may not ever heal.