Northern Lights

The royal dinning room was vacant of staff when Twilight entered. She breathed a sigh of relief; she wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone this morning. Her head was still spinning from Aurora’s confessions.

Not Aurora. Tyler Rannon, Twilight corrected herself. She took a seat at the table and rubbed her temples. Three hours of sleep wasn’t enough to begin a morning, making another reason she was thankful for the silence. It hadn’t been Twilight’s intention to stay up so late, but the time seemed to just slip through her hooves. A wasted effort. I didn’t even learn anything important.

That wasn’t entirely true. She’d learned the molecular makeup of the blue metal, and how it was able to generate Pure Magic. Interesting facts to know, but they did little in telling her how to disperse the cloud of magic above the city. And then there was the extra baggage from Tyler’s confession to sort through.

Thinking about Tyler made Twilight’s ears press against her head. She felt like the worst pony in the world for how she and the royal sisters were treating the transformed human. Yes, he’d withheld information from them, but not for selfish reasons. Twilight herself had kept her identity secret when she arrived in Canterlot High.

Of course, you only turned into a human in that situation, Twilight told herself. Tyler said his gender was changed as well. You weren’t turned into a male human, now were you?

This wasn’t a situation she could make a side by side comparison of. When she’d arrived at Canterlot High, her faithful assistant Spike had come with her. This meant she’d always had a friend nearby that she could confide in. Beyond that, Canterlot High hadn’t been entirely different than Equestria. There were alternate reality versions of the ponies she knew, and their personalities had been the same. That meant she’d had something to fall back on when needed. Tyler didn’t have those luxuries. And that’s just Tyler’s predicament. Who knows what the Sky Serpent is going through.

Twilight’s ear twitched at the sound of approaching hoofsteps. She turned her head towards the door as one of the castle maids entered. At least, she thought it was a maid. Her vision was slightly tilted due to her fatigue, and turning her head too quick had made things worse.

“Good morning, princess,” the pony’s voice was distinctly female.

Definitely a maid. “Good morning to you.”

“I wasn’t aware you were awake. Would you care for some breakfast?”

“Yes please. Nothing too big, but strong enough to wake a pony up in the morning. And could I please get a glass of orange juice as well?”

“Of course, princess. I’ll inform the cooks immediately.” The maid bowed to Twilight, then turned on her hooves and left the way she’d come. Twilight found the entire affair unsettling. Before her ascension, nopony would have daunted on her like they were now. It was one of the many additions to becoming Equestria’s newest princess.

But it also included ruling over ponies, and dictating what was best for them, and all of Equestria. That was something Twilight was never meant to do. She was the student; her days were spent in libraries, looking over dusty tomes. How can I be expected to rule a nation when I can’t even juggle the lives of two foreigners.

Thoughts about governing and ruling were washed from her mind, replaced instead with the image of Aurora staring up at her. Tyler. His name is Tyler Rannon.

She understood why the princesses had done what they did. This was the best lead they had in uncovering the portal’s secrets — they had to capitalize on it. But Tyler didn’t deserve this treatment... did he? He didn’t know about the rules of Equestria, just like Twilight didn’t know about the rules of Canterlot High when she’d first arrived in the human world.

That’s not why Celestia did what she did, Twilight reminded herself. It’s because of the Sky Serpent he’s under house arrest. Despite the reminder, she still found herself wondering if that truly justified the sentence?

The well being of a nation comes before two individuals. That is what Princess Celestia had said to her when they departed the throne room. That is one of the hardest challenges about being a leader you will ever face.

Eventually a unicorn servant arrived, carrying a tray of food in his magic. He set it in front of Twilight: two poached eggs seasoned with pepper and parsley, a bowl of hay, and her glass of orange juice.

The sight awoke her appetite. She thanked the server and sent him away, then levitated a fork in her magic and dug into the eggs. The food helped clear her mind of fatigue, but she still didn’t feel confident enough to speak before anypony. For that, she drank the orange juice.

The servant returned just as she finished her meal, and removed the tray post-haste. “How was it, your highness?”

“Just what I needed. Please give my compliments to the chef.”

The unicorn smiled, “That will brighten his day, for sure.”

That makes one pony, Twilight thought. She thanked the stallion one last time, then walked herself out of the dining room. The castle was fully awake by this time. Guards and servants moved about their daily routines; some bowed to Twilight when she passed them, while others muttered a polite “your highness.” Twilight gave them muttered thanks, but her mind was elsewhere.

If it had been one of your friends, would you have kept silent? No, of course not. Twilight would have spoken in defence of any of her friends, even against Princess Celestia and Luna — no matter how tired or disturbed she was. Maybe a princess should extend that mentality to those outside their individual circles.

“Princess Twilight,” a voice called from behind. Twilight turned from her thoughts and spotted a brown unicorn stallion approaching her. He looked to be in his late sixties, and was dressed in a simple grey suit and tie.

“Good morning, sir,” Twilight said. “Is there something you need?”

“Only answers,” said the stallion. “My name is Gavelkind, and I was wondering if you’d be attending the gathering of ministers alongside your fellow princesses.”

“There’s another meeting already?” Twilight asked. She remembered Luna mention something about the ministers gathering last night.

“You can blame Sharp Script for this, your highness. She has it in her head that the light floating above the city are some threat to national security, so she’s trying to get everypony riled up.”

“I wouldn’t call them a national threat.”

“Which is precisely what I told her. More than likely it’s a Summer Sun Celebration effect gone off early. I told her so myself last night, but there is no reasoning with that mare,” Gavelkind waved a hoof in disdainment. “Anyways, I spotted Celestia and Luna on their way to the Council Chamber, and I was hoping you’d be coming as well. All three local princesses explaining the truth of the situation would no doubt convince Sharp Script to hold her tongue.”

Twilight shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I won’t be attending. There are other matters that need my attention at the moment.”

“I see,” Gavelkind said. From his tone, Twilight gathered he was disappointed. “Very well, Celestia and Luna will hopefully be enough.” He lowered his front legs and bowed. “Good luck with your work, princess.”

“Thank you, and good luck to you as well.”

Gavelkind rose and trotted off down the corridor. Twilight wasn’t far off after him. She quickened her pace through the castle, taking a few detours not to take her close to the main hallway. Most of the ponies who had come to question the princesses yesterday would be back, and Twilight didn’t feel like being mobbed again. She made good time ducking down side hallways and servant ways, eventually making it down the spiral staircase that lead to her lab. A quick spell from her horn unlocked the magically sealed doors, and she stepped inside.

Her office had remained undisturbed during her absence. Everything was in the position she’d left them in: books were sprawled out next to her notes and samples of the blue metal. Off in the upper left corner was her satchel, the contents of which were overflowing into what little free space was left on the table.

In the middle of this organized chaos was a pure silver necklace. On it, a Sky Serpent watched her enter with all four of its wings spread, and fangs poised to strike.

Twilight sat herself at the table and looked at the necklace. It had come as a shock when she’d woken to find Princess Luna hovering above her with the necklace levitating beside her. She’d had a solemn look upon her face, like a bad taste was lingering on her tongue. Twilight had meant to ask her what was wrong, but her fatigue was too strong.

Luna had seemed to take notice. She placed the necklace on the table and said, “Come Twilight, things are to be explained shortly.”

And she was right, thought Twilight. Following her had lead to Tyler’s confessions, and learning of the serpent. What was her name? Ri?

Twilight gathered magic in her horn, and levitated the necklace in front of her face. Then, tenderly, she affixed it around her neck.

Hello? Twilight said internally. Ri-Bov-Dis, are you here? Can you hear me?

No voice answered her. Twilight called out again, both in thought and out loud, but was met each time with silence. Yet, despite the silence, she could feel a presence in the back of her mind. It was small, but prominent, as if she were sensing a magic aura.

Perhaps there is another way, Twilight thought, levitating her satchel over. She kept the necklace on; Tyler had said Ri was trapped in isolation when she wasn’t worn. Using her magic, Twilight fished through the satchel and pulled out the samples of solidified magic, isolating one of the purple stones.

Purple magic dealt with the mind. It was Twilight’s theory that, if she could establish a link between the necklace and the Pure Magic, she could look into Ri-Bov-Dis’ mind. Of course, there was a slight probability that nothing would happen, or perhaps something dangerous. Pure Magic is an unpredictable substance.

A small amount should be safe, Twilight decided. She closed her eyes and focused on the purple magic within the stone. She could feel it writhing in her grasp; it felt like she was trying to restrain a viper. Twilight groaned under her breath. In her mind’s eye she could see an opening no bigger than the hole of a sewing needle. Slowly, carefully, Twilight threaded the slippery magic through the hole. Once she had enough, she willed the hole to close.

Only then did Twilight open her eyes and look at what she’d fished from the stone. Caught inside her magenta magic was a deep purple ribbon no thicker than a single strand of hair, yet matching Twilight’s body in length. The stone it had come from already looked smaller by at least one sixth the previous size.

This will have to do, Twilight decided. She straightened out the Pure Magic into one long thread. One end was brought to the silver serpent, the tip touching its forehead. The metal rippled like water, and the purple magic slipped inside. Then Twilight turned her attention to the free end and levitated it to her forehead.

For a moment, Twilight hesitated. Invading one’s memories was the utmost breaking of personal privacy, and was only allowed with the pony’s consent. If given enough time, an irresponsible pony could see every detail from the life they were looking into Nothing was secret. Nothing was private.

I have to do this, Twilight told herself. The Summer Sun Celebration was closing in, and now a council of ministers was gathering. She had to get to the bottom of this mystery.

Twilight steeled herself, and touched the purple magic to her skin.

The lab shattered around her. Bits of wall and ceiling came hurtling through the air before fading to a sea of dust that swirled around Twilight like a swarm of parasprites. The room itself had given way to a blackness.

As Twilight looked around, the dust began to settle. Individual particles began to link up, filling the blackness with colour and shapes. Soon Twilight was standing in a large, circular shaped room. The walls and floor were pristine white and glittering with a metallic shine. Cyan crystals were fixed onto the walls, providing light for the windowless room. A large one was fixed to the ceiling like a chandelier. Beneath it, the dust settled into the shape of a grey table, with two figures sitting on either ends.

They were large, easily exceeding twenty feet in length. Their feathered wings were folded, but Twilight estimated they were close to twenty feet when extended. One had scales shaped like cobblestones. The other’s were diamonds. Both had piercing yellow eyes.

Is this what they looked like in life? Twilight wondered.

The Sky Serpents sat before her like glittering statues. The one with cobblestone scales sat opposite of what Twilight assumed was the back wall. It was a plain purple colour, with an underbelly and feathers the colour of a dying fire. Around its neck hung a silver chain. Twilight approached the serpent for a better look, and saw that the chain was made of links forged into the shape of snakes wrapping around one another to bite their partner’s tail. It was expert craftsmanship for a species without hands. Sadly, it did little to enhance the dull colours of the one who wore it.

The second serpent was another matter entirely. Whereas the first had been plain to look at, this one was simply breathtaking. Its diamond scales were sky blue, and in the light of the wall crystals, they sparkled like sapphires. The ones on its underbelly were a blazing orange, and its wings were covered in golden feathers. But what really drew Twilight’s attention was the serpent’s head. Behind its eyes, the scales lifted up into a five pointed crest, reminiscent of a crown. The scales above the eyes were also unique; they were thicker, and gave the Sky Serpent an intimidating glare.

Twilight’s mouth tightened into a smile. “Amazing! I never expected such vivid colours from snakes... but which of them could be Ri?”

As she finished, the blue serpent opened its mouth. From it came a deep, authoritative voice, which Twilight assumed was masculine. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“It was no trouble at all,” the purple replied, also sounding male. “Though I am curious as to the nature of this summon. Is it something bad, perhaps? I do so hate having to be burdened with bad news.”

“No, nothing bad,” the blue reassured. “But it is important. I need a private audience with the Sovereign as soon as possible.”

The purple looked at him quizzingly, before tossing his head back and laughing — a strange mixture of pony-like chuckles and snake hisses.

The blue was not impressed. The muscles above his eyes furrowed, enhancing his glaring yellow eyes to the point that Twilight had to reassure herself that he wasn’t real. “Does that amuse you?”

“Very much” the purple said, recomposing himself. “Why, don’t you see the humor of it?” When the blue didn’t respond, he gave a disappointed sighed. “My Lord, you are asking of me something already within your power. As the senior member of the Lords of Logic, you should have no trouble approaching the Sovereign and requesting your meeting. If I recall, you were well acquainted with our previous one.”

“This Sovereign is not like his mother,” the blue said. Though his voice was calm, Twilight could hear the underlying disgust in it. “She at least had the wisdom to seek council with the Lords of Logic on matters she knew nothing about. If I go to this child myself, he will force me to wait in line behind lesser matters that he deems more relevant. No, I cannot wait that long. I need you to convince him to speak to me sooner.”

The purple pondered, and looked at the crystal hanging above. With a wingtip he was idly stroking his chain. “Yes, I could mention your work to his majesty. But, my Lord, one question still plagues me for an answer. The question of why I should agree to this proposal at all.”

“Are we truly playing a game of reasons now?”

“We are. What you ask of me would require a great deal of re-scheduling — a task I am not too fond of performing. Pre-planned meeting made months in advance will have to be pushed back, and letters will have to be sent to those who registered informing them of the changes. So, before I tell the Sovereign why he should heed from his mother’s example, what reason do you have for me that I should strain my tongue?”

Twilight knew the blue was getting annoyed, but he was very good at hiding it. His face remained as neutral and intimidating as ever. “Don’t play your court games with me, Var-Ek-Fa. You are the Sovereign’s Tongue; what could I give you that your rank and status could not already achieve?”

Var looked like he was about to reply, but something else caught the attention of the blue. His eyes locked onto something behind his companion. The pupils shrank into reptilian slits. Suddenly both eyes were encompassed in a shimmering yellow aura.

Twilight could scarcely pull her eyes away. They could use magic!

The sound of a door being yanked open echoed through the room. Twilight turned towards the noise, discovering that a rectangular section of wall had been opened. On the other side was a hallway extending to the left and right. Huddling in the middle of it was another Sky Serpent. This one was significantly smaller than the others, with green cobblestone scales. To Twilight’s intrigue, beneath its brown feathered wings, the serpent had another pair — leathered, like a bat’s.

That looks like the serpent on the necklace, Twilight thought. Does that make it Ri-Bov-Dis?

The blue was quick to answer her question. “Ri-Bov-Dis,” he called, showing the first emotion Twilight had seen from him. Anger. “What are you doing?”

Ri winced as if he’d physically struck her. “I-I’m sorry, father. I was just—”

“Go.”

Ri cringed and clasped her feathered wings around her face for protection. The leathered ones gave a quick flap, propelling her back into the hallway, where she slithered as fast as she could out of sight.

Twilight found herself rushing after her, though she didn’t have to travel far. The young serpent was only two paces from the door, tangled in a heep of her own coils. She was wiping tears from her eyes while trying to right herself.

She’s just a child, thought Twilight, though there was no way of knowing how long ago this memory took place.

“I apologize for that,” Twilight heard the blue say. Ri must have heard him as well; she seemed to be watching the open doorway with a combination of apprehension and curiosity. “Now, shall we get back to discussing your payment?”

“No need for that anymore,” Var explained.

Twilight walked two steps from Ri, just enough for her to look inside the room. The blue Sky Serpent was staring at Var quizzingly. “Why the sudden change of heart?” he asked.

“It’s as you said, my Lord. There is no item my rank couldn’t get me that I don’t already want or have. But how many citizens can boast of seeing an actual living four-wing in this age?”

“That information will never leave this room,” the blue hissed in a whisper that gave Twilight goosebumps.

“Of course, my Lord. I’ve no interest in sullying your reputation, or that of your sons.”

Twilight cast a glimpse back at Ri-Bov-Dis. Fresh tears were welling in her yellow eyes. She turned away from her father’s voice and looked down at her wings. She flexed the fingers of her bat wings, before a look of disgust spread across her face and she pulled them as close to her body as she could.

“I’m sorry you had to experience that,” Twilight said. Ri’s eye flicked in Twilight’s direction, and for a moment she thought the serpent had heard her. But the princes reminded herself that this was only a memory.

“When can I expect to see the Sovereign?” the blue serpent asked.

“I will suggest a meeting to him tomorrow,” said Var. “If he heeds my words, then your appointment will be instantaneous. If not, I will explain that things went awry and we can try again.”

“Make sure that it won’t come to that,” The blue extended his gold wings and pressed the tips together, as if in prayer. “Thank you for the audience, Var-Ek-Fa.”

Var mimicked his gesture with his own wings. “It was a pleasure, Lord Tal-Vo-Mak.”

As the two serpents bowed, their bodies began to flicker and fade. Shadows crept forth, covering every section of the room, turning the pristine walls dull grey, and eventually black. Then the shadows crawled out the doorway to smother Ri and the hallway.

Time’s up, Twilight thought sadly. She wished she had more time. There were so many questions left unanswered, and the ones that were answered raised further questions. But to stay any longer would mean pulling out more purple magic, and she didn’t want it’s dangerous side to surphace.

But one question had been answered. Even if what Tyler said about Ri was true — that she knew nothing about the machine — there were things to be learnt from her memories.

Which means I can’t give her back anytime soon, Twilight could feel the stormclouds gathering in her mind, weighing down on her for what she was forced to do. “The well being of a nation comes before two individuals...”

When the darkness cleared, Twilight was back in her laboratory. She brought a hoof to Ri’s necklace and gently touched the serpent.

Ri-Bov-Dis? Twilight thought. I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m sorry for all of this. Believe me, I don’t want to keep you any longer than I need to. So please, if there’s anyway you can help me find what I need, try and show me.

Silence was her reply. Twilight found herself chuckling dryly. Nothing can ever be easy, now can it?

Twilight returned the solidified magic to her satchel, then walked out of the lab.