Broken Wings, Scattered Dust

Up Here Lies The Way

“Good luck.”

The kitchen door clicked shut, hiding Julienne from view.  Eve had us shrouded again, but with the exception of Violet, we had all agreed Julienne would be more hindrance than help on this kind of mission.  She herself shared this view, and agreed to take refuge in the kitchens instead, on the condition that she be filled in as soon as we were able.  Culinary finesse and—if I was right—a good knife-throwing hoof really wouldn’t be much use here.  The ability to see the limited truth was a different story, which was why I had been relegated the position of Violet-shover, as she was highly reluctant to leave the safe room.  Something about there being a dragon in the castle.

The next ten minutes or so were spent roaming the mid-morning palace, picking up what was left of the Caelum division.  Though she admitted it was more for threatsagainst Dust than Dust herself, Swan refused to be parted with her bow.  Meridian joined us nearly before we knocked on his door; Eve had barely reached the door when the captain flung it open, missing his hammer but regardless in full battle regalia.  His sister frowned disdainfully at the shining metal—would it make it harder for her to keep us hidden?—but she did not object.  Not one of them seemed surprised to see me or Violet.

It was weird enough being in the midst of so many guards, but it was even weirder now because, knowing the truth...in a way...I was one of them.  Another pony who served the sisters, just minus the armor, and via surgical removal of life rather than the altruistic protection of it.

Something occurred to me as we made our way to what Eve had assured us was the last room.  Crimson—thank Luna he wasn’t here—had been promoted to a station where he had no immediate compatriots, which meant, barring any new recruits, the Caelum unit only had five active members.  We’d already accrued Eve, Julienne, Swan, and Meridian, which left...Blackout’s sister?

The Arbiter stopped in front of a notably smaller door than the others we’d passed or opened.  Like the others, it bore a cutie mark.  A small blossom of fire, its heart already dying.  But unlike the others, Blackout didn’t even bother knocking.  Neither did Eve nor any of the others.  They just stood there, staring at the same, gilded phoenix knocker that adorned all the doors in Celestia’s half of the palace.

“What are we waiting for?”  Violet squeaked from behind me.

“Shh,” Swan said.  “She’ll come out when she’s ready.”

 And sure enough, within a minute the door creaked open.  A stone-grey, nearly-empty room lay beyond.  There was absolutely nothing besides the bare essentials and one, meditating, forlorn-looking, nearly-fully-armored Burnout.  A smoldering orange came to life as she opened her eyes to meet us.  The fire dancing atop the incense in front of her died as it lost her attention.

“Hey,” she said quietly, moving to join us.  “You guys ready?”

“Doesn’t matter,” her brother said; even without confirmation, the family resemblance was clear, if their names alone weren’t evidence enough.  “Let’s move.”

The pace at which we set off was markedly faster.  Blackout was still leading the way, but swiftly losing patience.  I was forced to carry Violet—to my great annoyance, as she was still wearing the silver ring—or leave her behind, and in the face of a pony with unknown power?  I would knock her out cold if I had to.  Her truesight was indispensable, never mind that, despite the fact one of the first things I’d done with her was strangle her, she trusted me.  That alone was evidence of her power.  She had seen the truth.  She knew killing her wasn’t something I wanted to do, but something I would have been forced to do.

A few hallways and a number of turns later, we arrived back in front of Luna’s study.  The princess was waiting outside, and unsurprisingly, she did not need Eve’s help to see through her shroud.  Blackout stepped through the shimmering barrier and nodded meaningfully at his liege.  “I am ready.”

Luna nodded curtly, and the two set off down yet another corridor, with Eve and the rest of us just behind.  I was somewhat comforted by the goddess’s presence.  Violet was anything but.

“Skkk,” I scowled at her.  “Hooves off the wings.”

The unicorn obliged, but she still felt like she was going to tremble herself to pieces.  She had done the same when she had seen me after I’d passed out, but I had expected that.  Separated from me for so long with only a couple ponies she couldn’t read for company.  But her shaking was more pronounced now, like her insides were freezing solid.

“Can’t you do anything?”  Eve grumbled at me.  “Mer’s armor is bad enough.  Any more and I might not be able to keep us hidden.”

A swift cuff on Violet’s ear and her trembling faded, proving that her fear had not yet smothered her reason, but she remained ever silent.  Dragons in the castle weren’t entirely unheard of, yet...no.  That alone couldn’t be it.  She lived in Everfree, for Celestia’s sake, and she had to know there was at least one dragon in there.  I closed my eyes for a moment and concentrated on her shifting, on this one motion she repeated over and over and over—a two-part head-turn—and her real fear became evident within seconds.

She was afraid of Luna.

Princess Lun—no, damnit, Whimsy, she said it herself, leave me alone.

But...why Luna?  Was it something she saw in her, some remnant of the fabled Nightmare?  Was the mare bent on plunging the world into eternal night not yet vanquished?

Another turn and the sight of a colossal set of red-and-gold double doors drove the thought from my mind.  Luna stood before it, took a deep breath, composed herself, and at her command the doors swung open.  She entered Celestia’s throne room with Blackout at her side and the rest of us hidden close behind, courtesy of the only Lunar Guard present.

What immediately caught my eye was not the flowing, pastel mane of the Regent of the Sun, nor the notorious brown-cloaked mare—despite her lowered hood—at the foot of her dais, but that—not counting those beside me—there was only one other guard present.  A single Solar Guard , a pegasus, stood watch to the left of Celestia’s throne.  Curious.

Luna started forward and immediately the doors swung shut; simultaneously, Eve led us off to the side, along the curved wall.  Violet’s quivering subsided somewhat, and though she still seemed incredibly eager to put as much distance between her and Luna as possible, a soft purple glow touched Swan’s white fur.  Fearstricken or not, she was doing what she had to.  Hopefully she could glean more from seeing Dust than I could; regardless, I slipped my goggles on.  Nothing really changed, except for maybe Dust getting a bit dirtier.

“Finally,” said Dust upon seeing Luna.  “You took your sweet time.”

“Apologies.  A matter needed more ironing than expected.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’ve honed your time-wasting skills to a impeccably keen edge,” Dust said impatiently.  “A thousand years of practice and all that.  Now can we please get on with it?”

Luna didn’t bat an eye.  “Certainly.  Your plight, I fear, is because of my return.”

“So it’s true, then?”

“Of course,” Celestia said.  “The divine lay claim to many burdens, and whether gods are many or they are few, those burdens must be borne.”

“My sister went to great lengths to preserve the ponies’ belief in me,” Luna said quietly.  “Her efforts—and my reappearance—have provided me with sufficient faith, but I fear it is only just.  Darkness approaches.”

Dust waved her words away as though they were but flies.  It may have just been the light, but what looked like anger or jealousy flickered across her face.  “Yes, yes, I know, but it’s your fault I’m here to even—”

“No.”

A fourth voice entered the fray.  Blackout, still silent, grew stiff as the lone Solar Guard stepped forward, sunlight gleaming off her armor as brightly as any mirror.  But she didn’t get any further.  Celestia caught her eye and—in doing so—casually squashed her further attempts to speak before turning back to Dust.

“Live in the past, and you turn your back on the future.”

“Please,” Dust scoffed.  “It’s her fault.  She’s obligated to help.  I was raised by dragons, not morons.  I know how courtesy works.”

“My sister can no more control her nature than you yours,” Celestia said quietly.

“Oh, I’m sure.  So goes the tale of Nightmare Moon, or so I’ve heard.  But as you say, the past is past, and what we need is to secure a better future for all life.  We can agree on that, at least, yes?”

“That we can.”

Dust took a step forward.  Celestia’s guard almost did the same, but apparently thought better of it, and I couldn’t blame her.  Fear was, apparently, an alien concept to Dust, as was tact.  “Then explain why you two sit on your arse all day doing nothing while the entire race of dragons is condemned to extinction!”

Celestia remained distinctly unruffled by Dust’s barbs.  “The power of any god is but dust in the face of destiny’s will.”

Luna started to speak, but stopped before she said anything.  Dust was too busy grinding her teeth to notice.

“Curse you,” she growled, sounding oddly feral.  “Goddess of the Sun, benevolent ruler of Equestria, wielder of powers unknown.  Death consumes an entire race and...I think a rock would be more useful, honestly.”

“Even the tallest mountain falls,” Celestia said quietly.  “Nothing and no one escapes time unscathed.”

Dust said nothing.  Neither did either of the princesses.  For what seemed like the longest time, silence reigned.  Then, without so much as a bow or a lick of courtesy, Dust turned tail and made to leave.  She stopped only for a parting shot.

“I always thought you two were useless.  I’d hoped I was wrong, but I guess I was pretty dumb to assume history wouldn’t repeat itself.  Alas...”

She sighed dramatically, eyes narrowing, voice graver than ever.

“...Fate would have it no other way.”

And she was gone.

Blackout, for some reason, was shaking ever so slightly.  “About the best we could’ve hoped for.”

“I’m afraid so,” Celestia said.  She alone seemed perfectly unruffled by Dust’s final words; a small frown had creased Luna’s lips, and the rest of the room’s occupants, save for Eve, looked outright disgusted.  A deep air of depression had taken hold of the single Solar Guard; her head was drooping so far it touched her chest.  The bleakness was so potent that Celestia drew her in underneath one large, pure-white wing for comfort.  Blackout’s shivers intensified.

“If only we could tell her the truth,” Luna sighed.

“What truth?”  I said sharply, lifting my goggles.

She looked at me sadly.  “That the dragons’ council also believes we are to blame, and they have accordingly forbidden any Equestrian from setting hoof in Draconia on penalty of death.”

“Why can’t you tell her?”

Celestia descended from her dais.  “She would confront the council.  In the event it falls to violence—and I am sure it would—she would win, and they can hardly afford further losses.”  She stopped, towering, before me.

The princess was even taller than I imagined, her mane, with its many colors, seemed to swallow me whole, and despite her tender, comforting tone, she wielded an inexplicably dangerous air, like a candle’s flame.  Beautiful in ever-shifting motion, mesmerizing in subdued chaos, and but a breath away from reducing all it held near to ashes or worse.  I suddenly understood why she was as revered as much as she was feared.  “I regret our meeting could not be under lighter circumstances, Zephyr.”

I worked my jaw for several moments before words found their way out.  “I...dunno.  I’m not in a cell and I still have my head, so these are pretty light.  Relatively speaking.”

She smiled airily.  “I see my sister has had a word with you.”

A word.

A father buried in plans.

A train loaded with crystals.

A silent apology that started it all.

And an empty spot where a mother belonged...

Dad’s coin was warm to the touch, as though the lightning that transformed it still coursed through the metal, untouched by all it had weathered, unravaged by time’s dreary advance, unconcerned by all it had witnessed.  Unaffected by all it symbolized...

“You could say that.”

“I tried to keep it short,” Luna mumbled absentmindedly, and her sister chuckled.

“It’s quite alright.”  She tilted her head to get a better look at the young unicorn still lying on my back.  “Violet, welcome.  If I may be forthright...”

The unicorn understood instantly, and though she was still lying on my back, she wasn’t shaking as much as before.  Something about Celestia, perhaps, kept her fear of Luna at bay…

“It’s really weird.”  She slid off, landing neatly on her hooves.  “She was, like...glowing, in at least six different colors.  I don’t know what it was.”

The hint of a steel edge crept into Celestia’s otherwise kind tones.  “Do you remember which colors?”

“Um...white, green.”  Violet frowned and closed her eyes.  “Silver, blue, like ocean blue..and gold, I think?”

At the word gold, the Solar Guard shuffled her wings, and Celestia suddenly straightened, something vaguely like dull alarm flickering behind her eyes.  She turned to the guards assembled beside me.

“By now the Valkyrie knows your mission, but it has not changed.  Stay on the her trail.  You are to keep her alive and out of mortal danger.  You are not to interfere with her efforts.”

Every one of them bowed, even Eve, and when they spoke, they spoke as one.

“Yes, Princess Celestia.”

Blackout and the lone Solar Guard, standing off to the side as they were, did not acknowledge Celestia’s commands.  Naturally.  Blackout was no more subject to her command than any other pony, and the Solar Guard was not part of the Caelum unit.  But Blackout’s presence here was somewhat expected; he was Luna’s agent, and keeping him informed was linked to how good he could be at his job.  So what was the other Solar Guard doing here...?

All heads turned as the doors burst open, and Clepsydra walked in.  She was wearing the onion-scented saddlebags, which she promptly handed to me before turning to Celestia.  A familiar, bored-looking gryphon stood tight-beaked behind her, but he remained outside.

“Your Kindness?”

“Clepsydra.” Celestia said.  “An earth pony in a brown cloak will be by the front doors in five minutes.  Please take Gimbal and meet her there, then take them both to the Cartographer’s Wing.  I expect she will want a map afterwards.”

The earth pony nodded, bowed, and backed out, shutting the doors behind her.  Surprisingly, the bags still contained Descant’s scale and his compass, but by some miracle the onion stink had been purged.  More notably the dried fruit had been supplanted by a number of satchels labeled Gourmet Field Rations with short descriptors.  A neatly-written note was tucked between two.

I take offense to your desiccated blasphemies.

— Julienne

Swan noticed what I was doing.  “If I were you, I wouldn’t let Julienne see you with dried fruit again,” she muttered.  “She gets offended, and when she gets offended...well, let’s just say the servants spent several hours dodging knives and patching up the walls.”

“Duly noted.”

“Cut the chatter,” Eve interrupted.  “We’ve got work to do.”

That they did.  From the looks of things neither Eve nor Burnout could mass-teleport—doing it solo was hard enough—so they really had to keep on the ball to keep up with a pony who could literally fire herself over a mountain in less than a minute.  Or she came close, at least.

“Take care,” Swan told me.

“And good luck,” Julienne added.

“You too.  And...thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” they said in unison, before trotting out the door; their captain gave a small bow and did the same.  I caught Eve before she followed suit.  There was something I had to ask her.

“Eve,” I said quietly, and she stopped.  “If you guys needed my help, why didn’t you say so back in the spire?”

The look she gave me was uncharacteristically off; her normally dead pale-purple eyes were open wider than usual.  She almost looked sad.

“I would have if I could have...”

“My sister thought it best if we refrained until it was both unavoidable and necessary,” Luna said.  “What transpired in Timid Thunder’s spire met neither of those.  Thus far your work has been virtually immaculate—revealing ourselves may have broken that streak.  I’m sure you don’t want to give your...following any more evidence than they already have.”

Celestia bore down on me again before I could contemplate Timid Thunder; odd that Luna was the one scaring Violet.  Luna’s presence was like that of a lit fireplace.  Celestia’s was motherly, kind, sure, but there was always that undertone...one that spoke of merciless fury if you ever happened to get on her bad side.  That she was markedly taller than her sister didn’t hurt either, but when she bent her neck until her face was level with mine...

“I am sorry,” she said quietly.  “The storms you have endured are amongst the fiercest I have witnessed.  I know the strength of spirit it takes to remain as whole as you are.  But...please understand.  No pony could endure what you have and emerge unscathed, and what lies beneath your shields is but another storm waiting to happen.  Unleashing that is too dangerous to chance.”

As she spoke I felt something creeping through my veins, like a web of toughened vines, paralyzing me.  It wasn’t magic.  I would feel that.  This was...Celestia.  Pure and simple.

“I know.”

My voice sounded distant, like my mouth was at the far end of a long tunnel.  She was right.  There were some things I had never come to terms with.  Over the years I’d learned to suppress them for Whimsy’s sake, but if they ever broke loose...if they ever took me over like they had...well, just look at what happened, and that’s why I could never again surrender myself to dreams of fantasy, no matter how intoxicating.  Just having them had taken an unforgiveable toll.  To see them fulfilled would be a lethal mistake.  A dream come true, indeed.

“I know.”

And even Celestia seemed at a loss for words.  She straightened up without breaking the silence.  Wonder how many she’d known that were in a position like mine...probably hundreds.  Immortality must be a real bitch.  Speaking of which...

“Um...Princess Celestia?”

“Yes?”

“You, uh...wouldn’t happen to know where I could find Lucifa, would you?”

Her expression lapsed into neutrality again, and for a moment or two we just looked at each other.  She had the most peculiar shade of pinkish-purple eyes.

“Unfortunately, no.  As Timid Thunder has probably told you, she hasn’t been seen in centuries.”  She caught my expression.  “Ah, forgive me.  You would know him as Descant.”

Huh.  So why would Descant have a name like that...a pony name?  And what was that shifting-metal noise, like somepony was taking their armor off?  Or rather, why was the Solar Guard behind the princess hopefully edging towards the door?

“Er...any idea where she could be?”

Celestia shook her head, but it was Luna who answered.

“Sadly, no.  The Calamus was her entry point into this world, and the last place she was seen.  If you want to find her, following its guidance is your best chance.  Yes,” she directed at a shivering Blackout, who’d just nudged her.  “Time is short.  I will meet you in the observatory.”

Blackout shook his head like he were drying it off, then looked at me.

“Let’s go.”