Prologue: Twilight Sorrow, Flashpoint, Dreams of Fire
“I do not know why I have put pen to parchment, why I have written, raved in patterns of ink as I have tonight. There are no words. Nay, there are too many words, there are unspeakable words, words to shred my mind with their truth. Too much truth. The darkness is hungry and my light wanes. A thousand evils stand vigil, the stranger spake, watching, waiting. Too kind, he were, by far. A thousand evils, nay. A thousand thousand and more there are. Our great realm is but a castle built of sand, awash in a black tide. And now that tide doth come for me. Such visions I have, fit to burn away peace forever. Naught but a treacherous, lying fool is peace, a weapon of our enemies. And so I must die. Ah, I hear my doom upon the doorstep; I must hasten. Should anypony chance upon these notes, I beg of thee, learn well from my triumph and sorrow. Keep well the secrets of the dark and the light alike. Use them wisely. Only through wisdom, knowledge, and those willing to blacken their souls in the cause of survival, as I have, can Equestria hope to endure.”
-Parchment fragment, attributed to Watchful Eye, noted unicorn diviner, approx. 114 Before the Nightmare
Twilight had never seen a dead pony up close before. It was a chance discovery: she was wandering aimlessly — Is this post-traumatic stress disorder? It feels kind of like it — through the halls of Canterlot Castle in the immediate aftermath of the changeling invasion. It does seem like the initial stages, if I remember correctly: Extreme detachment and apathy accompanied by a lack of emotional response to anything. Desire for the familiar. Seek medical help immediately. She was only mildly surprised to realize how little this concerned her. The wandering unicorn only noticed the body when she stumbled over an outstretched leg. After regaining her balance, she looked down and saw a guardspony and changeling still locked in a mutually deadly embrace. Oh. Look at that. That’s a lot of blood. I didn’t know changelings bled green.
Then the apathy vanished, and she toppled over backwards with a strangled shriek. Limbs flailing for a bit before gaining traction, Twilight scrambled back from the grisly display until her back thumped against the cold stone wall on the other side of the hall. The terrified mare still scrabbled with her hind legs for a few seconds before she realized she wasn’t getting anywhere. She sat there for a brief moment, heart pounding and chest heaving, before she dared to move or tear her gaze away from the bloody tableau. Then, she saw a splash of red on one foreleg where she’d bumped into the fallen guardspony.
It was dull crimson, a sticky stain as though she had been playing with hoof paint. The feeling was obscene in its familiarity.
Her first reaction was to throw up everything she’d eaten in the last week. The second was to frantically try and scrub off the blood onto the carpet, which still left faint red smears across her fur. Only when it was obvious that nothing else was going to happen did she start thinking again.
Oh no. And that, of course, brought back the reason she’d been wandering in the first place. She felt the first tears trickling down her face. Sinking to the floor, she buried her face between her forelegs and began to sob.
It wasn’t every day that a goddess fell because of you.
The city of Sheddinburgh waited. It was that sort of day in early summer. The warm air was still and dead, very odd for a city so near water, and though thick grey clouds hung low overhead, no rain fell. This close to the griffin Sky Kingdom, such wild weather was not unknown but not common, either. And for those who could listen, there were dark things slithering through the hearts and minds of the ponies there, as if the weather and the grey stone of the streets and walls bled into them, weighing down their thoughts and making them sharp and jagged. It was a good day for a riot.
Both the weather and the mood of the populace, though, were a stark contrast to the grand hall within the ducal palace where the business of the court was in full swing. Unicorn earls, marquesses, and all the hangers-on who accompanied them filled the majority of seats, with the few earth pony barons who had made the trip being shoved to the back rows. The hall itself was a testament to the ubiquity and skill of unicorn magi, being magically lit with a warm golden light. If one cared to look through the grand glass skylight high above, they would see a shining sun and blue sky rather than grey clouds. And that was the least of it. Not a speck of ink or dust could be seen thanks to the layers of protective enchantments on everything, the wards against scrying and divination practically hummed with power, and a subtle haze of magic in the very air made it so no one’s voice would carry beyond the faintest whisper until the occupant of the polished ebony throne willed it so.
Waxing Crescent, Duke of Greenbroke, Lord Lieutenant of the Lunar Throne, etc, etc, was a lean, almost gaunt unicorn of advanced age. His silver-grey coat matched the stark white mane that was cut severely short, and his blue eyes were like dagger points. He had successfully kept the peace and managed the dukedom for over fifty years. He was the unshakable rock upon which Greenbroke stood. And now he sat, glaring down at the earth pony mare standing in the middle of the court. The onlookers half-expected blood on the walls by the end of the day; such results were not without precedent.
“Your report, Captain Heart,” the Duke said, in a voice like a blade of ice, “if you please.”
She stood at attention for a long moment, almost deathly still. Her armor made her into a mirror-bright blue-and-silver statue, her eyes half-hidden in the shadow of her helm. When she replied, her voice was tight and brittle, and laced with a Greenbroke burr.
“We were unable to persuade the strikers and protesters to cease their activities, Your Grace,” she said. A flurry of whispers crisscrossed the hall. Even magically muted, they were audible through sheer volume.
Another long silence followed as the Duke’s glare grew deeper still. A lesser pony would have crumbled under that piercing scowl, but the captain remained stock-still. Not a twitch of an ear or tail marred her poise.
“Consider your next words with exceptional care, Captain,” he said at last. “So they refused to see reason. Your orders in that event were quite clear.” He ignored the raising of earth pony hooves at the back rows of the hall and a few unicorns that had lit up their horns, signifying a desire to speak.
“I ordered the Riot Act read, Your Grace,” the captain said. “They still refused to disperse.”
“You are trying my patience, Captain Heart,” he snapped. “Am I to understand that you are incapable of following orders, or that you are as much a traitor as the majority of your tribesponies seem to be?”
Finally, she moved. Raising a hoof to the captain’s bars on her collar, she carefully removed them. After looking down at them for a brief moment, she flung them down with a faint tinkle on the dark stone floor. As the rest of the hall erupted in an eerily quiet frenzy, ponies yelling to be heard, horns glowing and hooves waving, she unbuckled her helmet and ripped it off as well, throwing it down after the insignia to reveal a deep gold mane striped with silver, smoldering brass-colored eyes, and dark blue-grey fur.
“You may understand, Your Grace,” she bit out, “that I chose not to slaughter innocent ponies so you and the rest of your bloody toothpick noble shites can pretend the last thousand years never happened! You may also understand that I resign my commission! And lastly, you may fucking understand that this isn’t a protest anymore, it’s a mutiny!” She slammed a hoof down on the last word, crunching her insignia under it.
“Guards!” the Duke shouted, amplifying his voice to titanic heights through the ambient magic. “Restrain her at—”
Before he could finish his order, the magically reinforced skylight exploded into a thousand glittering shards, sending the lords diving for cover and forcing the guards to shield their eyes from the rain of splintered glass. The last remnants of a lightning bolt of obscene power crackled away into the air, and a squad of pegasi dove through the jagged, smoking gap. Two of them snatched up Captain Heart and pulled up as sharply as they could, wings laboring to haul her weight, and the other three brought the storm with them. The air in the great hall became a small gale, with bursts of razor-edged wind filled with hundreds of glass shards keeping the guards down for just long enough for the escapees to vanish into the iron sky above, the unicorn guards recovering too late to do anything but send a flurry of multicolored bursts of magic after them and missing completely.
The gale died away almost immediately, the last of the glass clattering on the floor, leaving behind an utterly stunned hall. As the lords and guests slowly stood up, moving carefully amidst the debris, the Duke spoke once more, as calm as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place. He had not moved from his place on the throne, nor had the storm winds seemed to touch him.
“My lords, I apologize, but I must end court early today. As of this moment, Greenbroke faces rebellion.”
Far above the palace, the new chief rebel was grinning into the teeth of the wind.
“Good work, lads,” she said to those who carried her. “If that won’t convince them that bloody skylight was always a weak point, nothing will.”
“As you say, Captain,” the senior of them replied, smiling back. She laughed, though it carried a bitter note.
“No more of this ‘Captain’ business, Arrow. You know me well enough to use my name. Besides, we’re not Guard anymore.”
“As you say,” he repeated, a little smile appearing briefly, “Valiant.”
Naturally, it was Celestia who found her. Twilight heard hoofbeats on stone and looked up to see the princess walking towards her. Celestia still bore the marks of the invasion: her horn was scorched black from her duel with Chrysalis, her coat was matted with changeling slime, and she was missing her jewelry.
“Pri—” Twilight began in a painful rasp, then cleared her throat and stood up— “Princess, what are you doing? You’re hurt. You shouldn’t be here.”
“It looks worse than it is,” Celestia assured her, a tiny smile appearing briefly on her face. “Besides, I was worried about you.”
Her gaze drifted to the pair of bodies just up the hall; she closed her eyes for a moment.
“Come with me, Twilight. You’ve seen enough.”
Looking down at her hooves, Twilight fell into a slow walk alongside the princess, who led them back towards the populated parts of the castle. For a long time they walked in silence, their hoofbeats echoing through the empty halls as they passed tapestries and statues and magnificent stained glass windows, hundreds of little wonders so typical of the castle.
At length, Celestia halted beside one display in particular; Twilight raised her head and looked at it. It was a painting, one which Twilight had always disliked. It depicted the alicorn sisters, bloodied and weeping, standing within a vast expanse of ash, bone, and blackened stone. A whole city in ruins, strewn with the pitiful remnants of the dead. Above the devastation, the uncaring blue sky was bright and clear. The little placard underneath declared the piece to be ‘Remembrance,’ done about four hundred years before the Nightmare War.
“You probably know the place where my sister and I are standing in that painting,” Celestia said, looking down at Twilight. The unicorn nodded wordlessly, staring at the ghastly image. A snippet of text whispered through her mind, from a book of ancient history. The dragons successfully carried out the Punishment of Ash on most major cities of the era before the end of the war.
“There are many other times when we have failed to protect our little ponies,” the princess went on, “when…I have failed. I’m sure you’ve read of most of them in your studies. It’s tempting to think of such things as confined to history, where they can’t hurt anypony, that things are different now.”
She let out a long sigh, bowing her head. “I wish that were so, with all my heart.”
“It’s not fair,” Twilight whispered in a broken voice, fresh tears appearing. “Chrysalis must have cheated. It wasn’t fair somehow. It was all just part of your plan. It can’t be…” She felt the warm blanket of Celestia’s wing wrap about her and leaned into the alicorn’s side, uncaring of how her tears ran onto the white fur and her blood-fringed foreleg left a faint scarlet smudge.
“I’m so sorry, Twilight,” Celestia murmured, “but even princesses make mistakes. And when we do, terrible things happen. Everything today is my fault, at least in part. And I can’t promise it won’t happen again someday.”
“It was my fault too,” Twilight choked out. “I was…I just…I couldn’t…”
“Sshh.” Celestia shushed her gently. “You did everything you could. You saved a lot of ponies, Twilight.”
“Not enough,” the unicorn said, shaking her head, “it wasn’t enough.”
With a shudder, she gained enough control of herself to look up at her mentor, then took a deep breath to steady herself.
“I need to do better.”
No pony or griffin dared approach the looming figure of the Queen of the Sky Kingdom as long as her husband’s blood still stained her talons and dotted her feathers. Even those who had seen the worst of the changeling invasion weren’t that careless of their lives. She stared straight ahead at the ground in front of her, feathers ruffling and narrow green eyes twitching convulsively. Her talons were curled up tightly and grating on each other, and sticky, drying tears fouled her crest feathers. The hospital waiting room was deathly silent, with every creature taking the utmost care to keep it that way. At last, one soul was brave enough to approach. Hearing hoofbeats in front of her, the Queen’s head snapped up with a close-mouthed snarl.
“Could I talk with you a moment, Your Highness?” asked Princess Celestia. The solar diarch, for once, was not smiling. Indeed, her face was long and sad, and her ethereal mane didn’t seem to dance and flow as it usually did.
“What do you want, murderer?” the griffin monarch answered in a trembling, grief-choked growl. “This is a little public for gloating.” She was nearly on a level with the alicorn, which let her glare straight into Celestia’s face, and her massive body was corded with muscle and pitted with many scars.
Celestia let out a deep sigh.
“Your Highness…Franziska, I give you my—”
“Don’t you dare deny it, you smug, scheming—” the griffin queen exploded, wings unfurling to their full, impressive spread, before cutting herself off and clamping her beak shut. Her wings slowly furled once again. After a long moment, she spoke again in cold, stern tones, leaning forward towards the princess. “I know you did it. He was finally going to make the Sky Kingdom a real threat to you in a way we could never achieve in war, and you killed him for it.”
“He isn’t dead yet, nor will he be if I or anypony here can possibly help it,” Celestia said, holding the bloodshot eyes of the other ruler without flinching. All around them, at a safe distance, the hospital staff were peering out from around corners and over desks, wide-eyed and straining to make out the conversation.
“You will get what you want, murderer,” Franziska told her, a sick, hopeless smile cracking her face wide open, “but we will not be enslaved without a fight. The moment my husband dies while under your care, we are at war.”
“Is that what Nikolas would want?” Celestia asked. “For you to throw away all that he accomplished?”
“Only he could have done it and you knew it,” the griffin snapped, tearing her predatory gaze away from the alicorn and taking a few steps to the side. The ponies and griffins who had been watching from that direction abruptly vanished as fast as they could move. “I know what I am and I know what I am not, tyrant sun, and I am not a peacemaker. This is all I have left…all you have left me.”
Over her shoulder, she heard Celestia’s voice grow closer.
“You’re wrong,” the princess said, and there was a confidence there that made Franziska look back. That same confidence was in every line of the alicorn’s face and every slight movement of her body, and it gave the griffin monarch pause for a moment.
“You’re wrong,” Celestia repeated, more gently. “You’re more than that. You’ve proved it, just now, by showing that you know your faults. I will work with you and the Sky Kingdom to honor his wishes.” She held out a hoof. “But I need your help, Your Highness. Will you give it to me?”
For a long moment, the world held its breath. Franziska actually began to reach out with one bloodstained talon…then caught herself and snatched it back with a wordless snarl.
“No!” she shouted. “You’re trying to use some kind of magic on me, aren’t you? And I almost believed your lies!”
“What will it take for you to believe me?” Celestia asked simply, keeping her hoof outstretched. “Or for you to keep the peace?”
“And when I say no such thing exists, you kill me, too?” the griffin retorted. “It would gain you nothing. I am the only reason we are not at war already, and the chieftains are no doubt already planning to overthrow me or at least sacrifice my hatchlings to their ambition! Give King Nikolas back to us, alive and sound of mind. That is the only thing that will keep my chieftains from taking their aeries and coming across the border by the thousands. And it is the only peace offering I will ever accept! Now get away from me, murderer.”
Celestia bowed her head and turned to leave. Over her shoulder, she added, “I’ll leave instructions that the King is to be kept under constant guard by your own people and all medical procedures cleared through Sky Kingdom doctors.”
Franziska said nothing, and the pall of silence that fell felt like death.
Somehow, Rarity’s delicately arched eyebrow had more power to make Twilight doubt herself than it had any right to.
“Bodyguards, dear?” she asked. “I’m not saying the notion doesn’t have some merit, of course, but it does seem a tad…excessive, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, what she means to say is that we’re all grown mares and we don’t need some stiff-necked guardsponies following us around all the time,” Rainbow Dash said, rolling her eyes.
The prismatic pegasus, as she tended to do, had gravitated to the place directly opposite Twilight in the little gathering.
“I ain’t saying asking for help’s a bad thing when you need it,” Applejack said, “but it seems like you’re selling the pies before you’ve even picked the apples. I ain’t seen no cause for having some extra muscle around.”
“Aw, but it sounds fun!” Pinkie said. “Just think of it! Twelve new friends at once! Counting welcomes, birthdays, the odd anniversary or two, that makes twenty-four or greater extra parties this year alone! No, wait, that’s not right. Or is it?”
“No, no,” Twilight said, “you aren’t listening. This is important! Our lives are in danger as we speak!”
“From what?” Rainbow asked. “Look, I know a lot of crazy things happen around here, but I’m pretty sure none of them are the kind of thing that needs the Guard to punch its face in or something.”
“Rrr! This is just what I was afraid of! You think because you can’t see danger that it isn’t there! The tiny little bit of the world within your limited perception is safe, so it follows that every other last part of the world is just as safe? That is a classic logical fallacy that only works if you never leave Ponyville! You’re not thinking!”
“What do you—” Rarity began, but Rainbow Dash cut her off.
“No, you’re overthinking, again! Look outside! It’s the same Ponyville and the same Equestria as yesterday and the day before that and the twenty years before that! It isn’t some kind of war zone! We don’t need bodyguards!”
“Ease up there, Dash,” Applejack cautioned her with a frown. “Let’s not have this get out of hand. But that’s about my question, too. What exactly do you think is coming after us?”
“Well, I don’t know specifically yet, but—”
“Then what do you know?” Rainbow demanded. “What’s changed all of a sudden?” She lowered her voice back to a normal volume. “You’re starting to freak me out, Twi. What’s got you so spooked?”
“I think I understand,” Fluttershy said, at which everypony else immediately quieted down.
“I’m sure we would all welcome your thoughts, dear,” Rarity assured her, casting a disapproving look around the rest of the gathering. “Please, continue.”
“Um,” the pegasus went on, peering out at Twilight from behind her mane, “I think that this is because of what happened at your brother’s wedding, right?”
“Yes,” Twilight admitted. She found herself looking down at the floor and wished she had a mane to hide behind.
“After the changelings were thrown out of the city,” Fluttershy said, “you had disappeared, so I went looking for you. I wanted to apologize for not listening to you earlier. And I…well, I saw you and Princess Celestia, and you were crying. The princess saw me, and later, she asked me not to tell anypony unless it was really important. But then when I saw you back with everypony else, you were smiling and laughing with us like nothing was wrong. But something is wrong, isn’t it?”
“Luna took me out into the city and into the parts of the castle you weren’t in,” Twilight murmured. “She showed me…all of it.”
“All of…what?” Rarity asked.
“Just what I asked to see,” Twilight said. She looked up to reveal wet, shining eyes. “All the ponies and changelings who died in the invasion, and all the damage the changelings caused to the city.”
“Twilight!” Rarity gasped. “That’s dreadful! Why on earth did you ask to see such things?”
“And why didn’t you tell us about this idea of yours before you went and did it?” Applejack added as she moved closer to Twilight. “Ain’t we been through enough for you to tell us when you’re hurting inside?”
Twilight spoke, and the words came tumbling out, one after the other in a rambling flood. She didn’t even know she was crying until Rarity delicately dabbed a tissue across her face while encouraging her to continue.
The dying sunlight cast long, pitch black shadows across the towering crags of the badlands, turning canyons and ravines into immense lightless gashes in the stony ground. Aside from the moan of the wind as it played about the mesas and cliffs, the only sound Dusty Trail could hear was the steady drone of his airship’s engines. None of the bridge crew spoke. The Storm Chaser was very far from home, and there were monsters in the dark. After what they’d seen, nopony could doubt that. Dusty shut his eyes.
…black carpet of vultures across the ground…little button eyes empty and hating…oh, gods, are those hides?
“Sir?” his second, Sandstorm, murmured softly. Dusty opened his eyes again. Yeah…I’m not gonna be sleeping ever again.
“Yes?” he replied, just as quietly.
“This is the place they told us about,” the pegasus mare said, nodding towards the big window set into the front of the bridge, “but there’s nothing out here. Recommend we spend half the night flying back east. We can come back and check this place out when there’s still daylight left.”
“If there is something here, they’ve seen us already,” Dusty answered, shaking his head. “All running would do is tire us out for when they hit us. If we set down, at least we have a chance even if they wreck the ship.”
Sandstorm let out a deep growl.
“Why did we come here, sir?” she hissed. “Those buffalo were as sick as all the others; they’d have told us anything if it meant getting us further away from home! They know something! We should’ve just interrogated them!”
“Stand down, Commander,” he growled back, well aware that the bridge crew all had their ears perked up at the dispute. “We don’t know they were the ones who did it.”
“Even if not, they probably did worse,” she muttered, subsiding. “Fucking sick bastards! You saw the cuts, sir, like cult markings. Something is out here, and we can’t handle it alone.”
Dusty forced a smile.
“No choice, Sandy. We run or we fight, and I’m not letting whatever is out here poison the whole expanse without a fight.”
She smiled at last, and it made him nervous to see it. It reminded him too much of the little demon’s grin.
“No, sir,” she answered. “I’ll gladly fight.”
He raised his voice.
“Ensign, set us down on that pillar there, a point north of the bow, it looks sturdy enough to bear our weight. Once we’re down, set a watch and put up the magelights. I want enough lights up that they’ll think the sun is rising in the south. If anything comes at us, I want to see it coming.”
By the time the ring of stark white magical lights was set up and lit, the sun had long since vanished. Beyond the circle of light was only a black void, with a few stars managing to shine through the glare. Dusty took a walking tour of the ship, making sure the watches were set and the weapons were unshrouded and ready. It was when he returned to the bridge to hand over command to Sandstorm that it began.
He heard an enormous crack-ksssh!, as though a giant pane of glass had shattered, and the light outside faded slightly. Dusty knew what had happened even before the lookout started yelling at him.
“Sir, one of the magelights just blew up! I didn’t see anything hit it; it just went boom! And…and I think something’s wrong with the sky! The stars just went out!”
Running over to look out the bridge’s window, Dusty saw the void of darkness pressing in against the lights, which were now starting to flicker.
“Fire up the engines and retract the anchor lines!” he snapped. “And fire the lightning cannon! Get the battlemages working; tell me what we’re up against!”
“Engines are cold, sir,” his chief engineer replied. “I need fifteen minutes to get up steam; more would be better. Give me time!”
“You’ll get what I can give you, now move!” Dusty told him, just in time for another magelight to burst like a firework, spraying sparks everywhere and leaving another gap in the circle for the darkness to pour into. The lightning cannon on their bow loosed an enormous blue-white bolt with a thunderous crack!, and the night drank it in.
“Sir!” Sandstorm shouted over to him, “the battlemages don’t know what in Tartarus we’re dealing with, but it’s not good! They’re trying to find out what in the magelights keeps it away and to reinforce them.”
A third magelight broke, making her flinch, then a fourth. That left eleven out of the original fifteen, plus five extra in reserve, but somehow Dusty didn’t think putting up the others, even if they had the time, would even slow down whatever was out there.
“If they can’t figure it out, have them put up the shields again,” he told Sandstorm. “We need more time to get airborne!” Then he turned to the rest of the bridge crew, all of whom were watching the exchanges with looks of controlled fear.
“Whatever is out there is trying to scare us,” he told them. “All those magelights do is illuminate an area; they don’t have powerful defensive spells. If it could break one, it can break them all at once. And if that’s all it can do, we can beat it. Stand ready, and we’ll make it through this, understood?” He tried not to look dismayed as three more magelights went out during his little speech, but the crew saluted him as one and turned back to their stations. It made him proud.
“The battlemages can’t figure it out. They’re putting up our shields,” Sandstorm reported. “Chief says twelve minutes until we have steam up.” Even as she spoke, the translucent barrier went up around the ship.
“Unload everything we have left in the lightning cannon, then get the gunners inside and close all hatches,” he ordered, then moved back to his command chair so he could address the entire ship through the appropriate speaking tube. “All hands, prepare to be boarded. Open the arms locker and hand out everything we have.”
Time crawled by, and magelight after magelight broke. The darkness pressed in. As if out of some sadistic gesture, the last one left was directly in front of the ship. The bridge crew watched it, willing the little beacon to stay strong, to keep the shadows away. It flickered, recovered, flickered again, recovered again. It burned brightly for an agonizing moment. Then it broke, and the only light was that coming from those expensive electric lamps inside the ship.
Everything was quiet for a long moment. Dusty thought he could hear something scratching over the bridge window and the outer hull, and the ebony curtain seemed to shift. Then came another report.
“Sir! The battlemages can’t keep the shields up! It’s too much!”
“Then have them drop it before they’re burned out and report to their posts,” Dusty said with a calm he didn’t feel. “We’ll need their firepower to fend off boarders.”
He watched as their protective sphere winked out and the darkness rushed in once again. For another heart-stopping moment, nothing happened. Then he heard it, a faint whisper at the edge of hearing.
Dusty…
“Did you hear that?” he asked Sandstorm, only to find her standing there, frozen, her face gone pale and shaken.
“It knows my name, sir,” she whispered.
“It knows mine too, but it could have found that out any number of ways. If this is behind the sickness, maybe it’s got spies at the fort.” But he saw the fear returning to his crew and knew he was lying.
It’s time, Dusty.
Fuck you, he thought furiously, you’re not going to spook me.
Demon laughter filled his ears, and a panicked shout came from the speaking tube that connected to engineering.
“Sir! The lights are going out! Nothing works! We’ve lost contact with—” The voice cut out mid-sentence.
“What?” Sandstorm snarled back. “Dammit to Tartarus, what? Come in down there!” Silence was her answer.
“All right,” Dusty said. “Change of plans. All hands, assemble at the bridge. We’ll hold out here.” Again, there was no answer. Then all the electric lamps blew out at once. The sole unicorn on the bridge immediately lit up his horn, a ball of green light manifesting at its point.
“Good work,” Dusty told him. “Rally around Astrolabe, ponies, everyone get close. Lieutenant, keep that light burning. Sandstorm, come with me, let’s break out the oil lamps.”
I’m coming, Dusty. I’m so close right now.
“Sir!” the unicorn shouted, his voice straining, “Something is damping the magic! I can’t keep it up!” Swearing, Dusty managed to snatch up a box of matches and a single lantern before retreating into the group that had formed around the hapless navigator.
“Don’t panic, ponies,” he told them. “Do. Not. Panic. That’s what it wants. We stay together.”
I’m here. I’m right behind you. I’m almost touching your shoulder.
The ball of light steadily faded, and the shadows rose up around them.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Astrolabe gasped, looking as though he was going to cry. “I’m so sorry!”
“It’s all right, Lieutenant,” Dusty told him, struggling to control his breathing. “It’s all right.” What have we done? What is this thing?
Then, at last, the night rolled over them all. He could hear the rapid, frightened breathing of the five ponies beside him. Dusty opened the box of matches and extracted one, fumbling with the oil lamp in the dark. Then there was a yell and a clatter of hooves, and one of their little group was dragged away, too fast to do more than cry out. His screams abruptly ceased. Then Astrolabe was taken, then the tactical officer, and then the helmspony. Dusty and Sandstorm put a foreleg around each other, but she was ripped from his grasp and went kicking and screaming into the darkness.
“Sandy!” he cried after her, “Celestia, no!”
Now it was only him, and he’d lost the oil lamp and the box of matches somewhere in the confusion. He stood there, chest heaving, trying to stand straight, expecting to be taken soon. But nothing happened. He was simply alone. He didn’t know how long he stood there before he moved, striking the match he still held and to his astonishment, it lit, the thin golden flame dimly illuminating the bridge. He only saw Sandstorm standing in front of him, her eyes and mouth inky black. She smiled at him.
“I’m here, Dusty,” she said. Then she blew out the match.
Twilight let out an enormous yawn as the morning sun stubbornly forced its way through the gaps in her curtains. She kept her eyes tightly shut in the vague hope that somehow there was more time to sleep.
“Come on, Twilight,” Spike’s voice called out to her. Strange, though, it sounded higher up than it should be for the little dragon. I hope he’s not growing out of proportion again. Sighing, she opened her eyes and sat up. She found herself face to face with Queen Chrysalis.
“Rise and shine,” the changeling queen said, still perfectly mimicking her little brother’s voice. “It’s a big day today.” She smiled broadly, showing off her fangs.
Twilight screamed and tried to lurch away, to cast a spell, to do anything, and found herself in the iron grip of Chrysalis’ telekinesis. She also discovered there was a magical limiter ring firmly affixed to her horn. All her attempts at casting did was hurt like a knife in the head. Then she saw the other changelings swarming in.
“Scream all you like, my little pony,” Chrysalis invited her, leaning in closer still, leaving only centimeters between them. “I put a silencing spell on the room. I have to admit, it was almost insultingly easy to find you and get in here.”
“If you do anything to me, my friends and the Princesses will—” Twilight began babbling, then found her jaw magically held shut.
“Your friends are already taken care of,” the queen murmured in her ear. “All alone by themselves, separated from each other, in a town that refuses to take precautions…easy prey. I do hope they’re stronger than they look; it’ll give you that much more time before you die.”
“Don’t you dare hurt them!” Twilight snarled, tears streaming down her face. “I won’t let you!”
“Or perhaps I won’t let you die,” Chrysalis went on as though the unicorn hadn’t spoken at all, caressing one ear with a long, wet tongue and making Twilight recoil in disgust. “Maybe I’ll see what kind of a changeling you’ll make.” Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. “I can recreate your every nightmare. I can take your every dream and twist it around your scrawny little neck! I’m going to make you beg for death.”
Then another voice boomed in Twilight’s ears, this one too was familiar.
“Begone, fiend! Return to the void!”
A white-hot bolt of light hit Chrysalis, and she burst into black shards that swiftly dissolved into smoke and then into nothingness. More white lights flared, and the rest of the changelings followed. Freed of her bonds, Twilight turned to see Princess Luna standing beside her. The lunar alicorn sighed, shaking her head.
“Your dreams are still troubled, Twilight. ‘Tis well that I was watching. Do you not attend the counselor as my sister hath told you to do?”
Twilight collapsed in relief. Oh, thank goodness! It was just another dream!
“I…yes, I do,” she managed to gasp in reply, “but you can’t heal a mind with magic…well, not very well in most cases, anyway. I just…I need time.”
“You shall have it,” Luna promised, smiling down at her. “Your slumber shall be restful, my friend, until your heart is renewed.”
“…thank you,” Twilight mumbled. “I’m sorry you have to keep doing this for me.”
“I am not,” the alicorn replied firmly. “You restored me to sanity. I can do no less than aid you in maintaining your own. Rest now, Twilight. Your dreams are well guarded.”
Blank Slate’s life was balanced on the point of a knife. The slightest wrong word, gesture, or mistake, and she would be fitted for cement horseshoes. In other words, it was an ordinary sort of day when you worked for La Pietra Freddo, or as he was known in Manehattan, Uncle Fred. Still, today was different.
The lower reaches of the great city were old, dating back to when earth ponies first came south, running from the endless winter, before the founding of Equestria. They were dark, save for the magical stickpin on her lapel that cast an eerie blue light into the gloom of the tunnels. And they were silent save for the whisper of her breathing. Her horseshoes were enchanted specifically to make no sound. The air was stifling and dead, without a hint of breeze, and uncomfortably warm. Her suit jacket and hat were stained with sweat.
Then she heard a faint skitter and froze, holding her breath. I knew I wouldn’t throw them off for long by going this route, but I thought I’d have more time than this! For a time, there was silence, then the skittering repeated itself. Slate swore under her breath and galloped ahead, abandoning any attempt at stealth. Judging from the sound of wingbeats behind her, so had her pursuers. She turned a corner, entering a small chamber with a ladder to the surface. Making a flying leap at it, she climbed for her life, opening the hatch at the top with a magical grip. The cool night air poured in, along with a steady torrent of rain.
They came around the corner at top speed and lashed out at her with killing spells. Her horn lit up as she wove a shield spell in record time, deflecting the lethal magic in a dazzling burst of energy. It burned, cracked, and splashed across the walls on either side of her and the ladder ahead, but failed to harm her. But as she made a desperate jump, getting a solid hold with her forelegs on the rim of the opening, one of them slammed into her, sharp fangs sinking into her flank. One thing that most ponies tended to forget about magical shields was that only the most powerful of them deflected anything besides magic.
Howling in pain, Slate kicked out with her other hind leg and felt her attacker’s fangs rip free. In one convulsive motion, she hauled herself up and onto the ground, slamming the hatch shut behind her just in time. Hastily putting another spell over it to keep the thick sheet of metal in place for a little while, she tried to run, but stumbled, nearly falling as pain erupted in her wounded flank. Glancing back, she saw thick red blood streaming down her hind leg. The wound wasn’t in a place where she could easily bandage it, so she swore again, loudly, and hobbled off as fast as she could, out into the stormy night.
The skies over Manehattan were black with clouds, and lightning danced overhead, chased by the rumble of thunder. Rivers of dirty water coursed down the streets, and it seemed Blank Slate had to slosh through every last deep puddle as she looked for somewhere, anywhere with signs of life. Much of the city never slept, it was true, but not this neighborhood. Then she saw it. Post Office! Good enough! I see lights under that door! She was in something of a hurry, so when she found the door locked, she snarled and lit up her horn again.
The doors gave way at the fifth blow, and she stumbled in. This time she did fall, bruising herself on the cold floor. Her head was spinning. I think I’ve lost a little too much blood. But look at all the pretty lights!
She looked up to see a surprised janitor standing there, push broom in hoof, gaping at her.
“Stop,” she snapped at him as his mouth opened. “Don’t you say a fucking thing! Just listen! I’m Equestrian Intelligence!” Lugging out a pocketknife, she ripped open one of the seams of her jacket and flung a little piece of laminated paper at him that her usual boss would have killed her slowly over. Then she thought perhaps it would be a good idea to secure the entrance, so while he was looking at her ID, she tipped over a pair of the big mail organizing racks and shoved them in front of the doors, making an earsplitting racket. Then she turned back to the janitor. Oh, he’s a pegasus. Good. I hadn’t thought of that. Silly of me.
“Lady, you’re hurt bad!” he protested. “Come on, I got a first aid kit here, we gotta get some help!”
“I said shut up and listen! They’re after me, and I’m not going to make it! I need you to take a message to Canterlot, direct to the Princesses! Can you do that? Here, have some money!” She reached into another pocket and flung several thousand-bit coins at him, which he fumbled and let scatter across the floor.
“I—uh—yeah, sure! What’s the message?”
“Something big is going down in at least four places in the world! It looks like they aren’t connected, but they are! Here in Manehattan, somewhere out west, somewhere in the old Unicornia region, and up in the Sky Kingdom! And the changelings are here!”
As if on cue, her pursuers chose that moment to begin hammering at the doors.
“Go!” she yelled, raising her head and blasting open the skylight, letting in the storm and jolting him into action. He snatched up a pair of goggles from the nearest mail case, pulled them on, and took off, wings beating furiously. He heaved himself out through the skylight just as her improvised barricade gave way and the doors crashed open. Lightning glinted off the slick black edges and merciless blank eyes of changelings. She forced a grin and planted her wounded leg as firmly as she could. I’m not going anywhere, so let’s see how many of them I can get.
“Come on, you fucking bugs! Let’s see you get me!”
Screeching and clicking, they moved in.
What did alicorns dream of? The question had been posed at various times throughout the history of Equestria, most recently as part of a scientific article regarding the possibility of reviving the lost magic of dreamwalking. It was often pondered by those who had been saved from nightmares by Princess Luna. It was even a recurring topic of discussion among a few of the Night Guards. Yet only once had somepony dared to ask Princess Celestia to her face. The answer was, ‘If I tell you, will you tell me what you dream about?’ And the embarrassed questioner promptly changed the subject and never mentioned it in front of her again. The real answer was at once simpler and more complex than any of the wild guesses.
Celestia dreamt, and the world as it had been drifted about her. She remembered all that she had seen, all the creatures she had known, everything that she had learned on her journey through time. This particular night, Celestia dreamt of a world of fire and blood, gold and glory. She dreamt of dragons.
She stood upon a broad, outthrust spire of rock in the interior of the Womb of Fire, the largest volcano in the world. The magma below her fountained upwards in hundred-foot high columns, spattering the lip of the speaking stone. A molten red, infernal light illuminated her from below, and the bright sunlight shone down from above, through the opening of the volcano. It was dazzlingly bright, unearthly hot, and the air was like breathing in liquid fire, scalding and poisonous with fumes. Her horn burned white with the magic that sustained her here. Luna stood beside her, and together, the two of them looked up at their enemies.
A thousand dragons, all of them enormous, gnarled creatures grown cunning and mighty with age, perched upon the rocky ledges carved out of the volcanic stone. One of them, an elder wyrm with scales of shining white stood upon a similar spire of rock opposite her, the biggest, most cunning, and most ruthless of them all. Only such a creature had the right to be called Eldest of Dragons. He spoke, and his voice seemed to come from the roots of the mountain, forged in fire.
“In the name of the First Empire, I greet thee, new creatures of the world. Though many have spoken with us, thou art the first to stand upon the speaking stone to address this Conclave. What and who art thou and what is it thou art here to speak of?”
“I am Princess Celestia of Equestria,” Celestia answered. Her own voice boomed, if not quite so loudly, but with power there to command respect.
“And I am Princess Luna,” Luna introduced herself, still a little miffed at not using the royal ‘we.’ But Celestia had persuaded her that deference was called for here, at least at first.
“We have come before you,” she continued, “to speak of the fate of our realm, Equestria.”
At the mention of that name, an uproar seized the ranks of the elder dragons, and it took a thunderous boom as the fist of the Eldest came down upon the stone, to silence them. He leaned forward towards the alicorns, baring his teeth.
“Thy kingdom,” he growled. “is LATE with its tribute! If thou dost not make good on thy debt at once, this ‘Equestria’ will be burned from history, and thee with it. We will visit upon thee the Punishment of Ash.”
Luna met the furious blue eyes of the Eldest of Dragons squarely, and her wings flared out. The air about her turned darker. And when she responded, she nearly matched him in volume and wrath.
“Now and forever, thou shalt never again receive ponies, innocent or guilty, alive or dead, as meat for thee and thy tyrant race, thou vile serpent! Nor shalt thou receive wealth from us in exchange for the cruelties thou dost visit upon the world! No dragon shall be permitted within our borders unless We grant thee leave! Thou mayest thank Our dear sister that we do not simply make war upon thine Empire and end thy reign for all time!”
If the previous statement had sparked an uproar, Luna’s demands brought on such a avalanche of noise that for a moment, Celestia thought the mountain was crumbling upon their heads. Dragons spit fire into the air in rage, their bat-like wings beat furiously, stirring the burning air into a blasting wind, and through it all, the Eldest simply stood, stock-still, rooted to the spot, a terrible calm upon him.
“I sometimes wonder what might have happened if you had spoken first, instead of your sister, Princess,” a new voice said, and the dream rippled and changed so that the Conclave vanished, as did the Eldest, and a single gold dragon stood upon the spire opposite Celestia, who now also stood alone. He looked young, for an elder wyrm, with his jaw horns suggesting a short beard and his deep-set violet eyes had a laughing look about them. But there was sorrow in his voice. He looked around the volcano, raising one claw to his chin in a very equine gesture of curiosity.
“Your recollection is quite exact. Again, your memory astounds me.”
“It’s been too long since we’ve walked in dreams together, Eldest,” Celestia said, bowing her head in welcome. “Why don’t we seek out a more pleasant memory for both of us?”
He sighed. “You know that cannot be, Princess, more’s the pity. I have little time here, and I must be brief. I have come to offer you my help, once again. You know what is coming. The dragons will aid you if you wish it.”
“My answer has never changed, Eldest,” the solar alicorn replied quietly, “and it is still no.”
The great wyrm sighed again, flicking his wings in a shrug.
“There are times I hope you are right in your confidence, Princess. I suppose we shall see. A storm is coming.”
Author's Note
Thank you very much for reading all this way. If you liked my work, or even if you didn't, commentary is appreciated as to why or why not. A few notes:
As the tag indicates, this is an alternative universe work, these are my own interpretations of the various characters and the world they live in. It seems that should go without saying, but I don't want anyone complaining about what is or isn't canon. If I like a canon idea, I'll include it, if I don't, I won't. For instance, I like Maud Pie but not Twilight or Cadence as an alicorn, at least just yet. I also have borrowed with permission some concepts from Rites of Ascension, a brilliant work that you should also take a look at. Those with questions about what I will or won't include, just send me a PM and if it won't spoil too much, I'll be glad to answer.
I have a certain writing style and it works for me, most of the time. There will be profanity, violence, and discussion of various real-world issues that some may not think belong in a world of technicolor ponies that runs on friendship. I will do my best to post warnings of such content before the chapters so that those who would prefer not to read such things are not unpleasantly surprised, they will be in the author's notes at the bottom of each chapter. I feel that there is darkness and light and a place for each in this little world and each contrasts the other. Twilight and company's power and light becomes more powerful and meaningful when it faces truly diabolical villainy, or so I believe. A world half full, if you like.
Lastly, I like to provide suggestions for those people who feel music goes along with a story, all such things will be in the future author's notes as well. I also am considering doing a little rewards game for those who spot some of my more subtle shout-outs/homages/ripoffs of various other media, more on that later, perhaps.
Enjoy the show.
