To Weep for Family

Prologue

The air in the cavern was hot, humid, and thick with sulfur fumes. A cocktail of acidic odors permeated the atmosphere, crushing all other smells in a tight stranglehold. All that could be seen in any direction was an endless black void. Water was dripping somewhere in the distance, punctuating every second like the beat of a metronome.

In the deepest chamber of the labyrinthine cavern, the earth shook with a sound like thunder. A shock wave of air tore through the stagnant build-up of chemical fumes, rousing the age-old miasma to chaotic motion.

From nowhere in particular, yet from everywhere all at once, a voice like an earthquake boomed, “I bring news from Equestria, My Liege.”

As if in response, dozens of torches sparked to life along the walls of the chamber. Their emerald flames were dim, creating just enough light to mark a ring around the dark heart of the cave; the white chemical fumes lingering in the air gave the light an ethereal quality. Hundreds of silhouetted stalagmites formed a barrier just ahead of the torches, leaving a single gap at the farthest edge of their oval pattern. Sitting in the gap was a large creature, slanted amber eyes that reflected the torchlight being its only distinguishing features against the velvety blackness.

The sound of two heavy boulders scraping together came from the center of the large chamber. It was accompanied by a series of random metallic clinks. All at once the cacophony faded into obscurity, and a pair of cobalt blue eyes thrice the size of the amber ones blinked into being.

They glistened softly in the torchlight like a pair of dull sapphires. Milky wisps danced through the irises in elegant patterns, constantly fading away only to reappear in moments and take on a new course. Where the eyes’ colour was a faded cobalt shield, their gaze was a steel sword forged in an arctic tundra. They were the eyes of the wise. They were the eyes of the weary. They were the eyes of the warrior.

They were the eyes of an elder.

In a guttural yet distinctly feminine voice, the elder said, “You have not woken me here since the Moon Princess returned, Squire. Tell me, what could be so important that you would disturb my slumber for a second time this decade?”

A drawn-out moment of silence took hold as the squire’s eyes lowered to the ground and raised back to their original height. “Apologies, My Liege, but I believe this to be a matter of great importance. Equestria has just crowned a new princess: the first in over a millennium, discounting the Crystal Princess.”

A snort exploded from the center of the chamber, rattling the torches in their brackets. Turquoise flames replaced the green ones.

“Telling me of the return of an old ally is one thing, Squire, but what makes you think I would care for a new princess? My time on this earth wears thin, and I have no need for connections which are unlikely to benefit our race. I no longer take interest in the politics of ponies.” The elder’s eyes vanished back into the darkness, and the torches began to dim.

“It is not the princess herself that has my concern, My Liege. This matter pertains to your meeting with the Sun Princess last century.”

The torches stopped dimming, and the colour of their flames deepened to a midnight blue. When the elder’s eyes reappeared, the wisps dancing in their irises had vanished.

Not hiding the tremble in her voice, the elder spoke a single word: “Speak.”

“This is something to be seen, not heard, My Liege.” The squire drew slightly closer to the elder. As he did, gentle rumblings shook the cavern. A stalactite shattering against the ground in the distance fell on deaf ears.

When only a few feet separated the two creatures, a pair of blistering white torches lit the ground between them. A newspaper headed as The Canterlot Herald slid into the dome of light.

The squire raised his eyes to meet the elder’s and said, “Look only at the photograph, My Liege. You will see that of which I speak.”

Unblinking, the elder held the squire’s gaze for a long moment. A single white wisp appeared in the elder’s iris. It spun and twirled across the blue canvas in complex, winding patterns before eventually colliding with the venomous black of the pupil. Slowly, the elder’s eyes turned down to the newspaper.

Colours exploded in the picture adorning the front page. It depicted a group of ten ponies at some sort of celebration, evidenced by the elegant clothing each pony wore. There were three alicorns, five mares, and a stallion all centered around a lavender alicorn. Every pony was beaming wide, and some of them had puffy, red eyes. Though it was difficult to tell, the stallion on the lavender alicorn’s immediate right seemed to be smiling largest of all; strangely, the lavender alicorn herself had the weakest smile.

The elder was just about to lift her eyes and address the squire when she noticed something. It was smaller and much less vibrant than the rest of the photograph, but it was still noticeable. Wedged between the new princess and the stallion was what appeared to be...

Tranquil, amethyst flames took hold of the wall-mounted torches. Blinking a few times as she spoke, the elder whispered, “Is that...?”

“It appears so, My Liege,” the squire said.

Somewhere in the distance, water stopped dripping, and the cavern was plunged into unnatural silence. The heat of the cavern faded noticeably, leaving cold, wet air lingering in its wake. Hints of orange fire licked at the purple flames of the torches.

Slowly, the elder peeled her gaze away from the photograph. She blinked several times, and her eyes quivered almost imperceptibly. Her gaze met the squire’s, and she said, “Squire, get me a quill and parchment.”

The squire blinked once. “Are you certain, My Liege? I assumed you would want to take immediate action.”

“No, Squire. Get me a quill and parchment, and prepare the chariot for tomorrow. We leave at sunrise.” Without another sound, the elder turned back to the newspaper.

Silence lingered in the cavern for a moment before the squire made his reply. “As you wish, My Liege.” With that, the amber eyes faded into the darkness, and the sound of powerful wing beats echoed in the cavern for a short while afterwards.

The elder turned her eyes to the headline sitting just above the photograph of the paper. Her eyes glistened with a faint sheen as she did.

“Twilight Sparkle,” she said. As the words faded into oblivion, the torches throughout the chamber extinguished, hiding the world from view.