//------------------------------// // 4 - The Museum // Story: Predictions & Prophecies // by Kinrah //------------------------------// THREE DAYS LATER The train rattled its way southwards. Twilight could remember going to Hoofington exactly once, and that had been several years ago as a very young filly with her parents to visit her aunt and uncle, who had since moved to Canterlot. It hadn’t been very memorable, mostly because it had been involuntary and she really didn’t see the merits of spending time away from her precious reading. (New Twilight had recently become horrified of Old Twilight’s priorities.) Visiting the museum had not been on the agenda. It might have been at one point, but since she’d basically spent most of the whole trip kicking and screaming, the rest of the time partially placated in her uncle’s guest bedroom with a large pile of books she’d already read, the schedule had to be changed substantially. She’d been the happiest filly in the world when she was back in the city with her unread learning. Her father had once joked that they had gone to the museum, and that they’d been kicked out because of her behavior. …At least, she hoped he’d been joking. Despite a frantic search, a letter to Princess Celestia, and a subsequent second search with Lieutenant Double Edge of the Royal Guard - the Princess had been very serious about its potential danger - no sign had been uncovered of Da Colton’s workbook or the nocturnal thief. On closer inspection, something she should have noticed immediately on its reception, Twilight had discovered a subtle Locate charm buried in the blank card, which was probably what led the thief there in the first place. Locate, for when you don’t want as much security that Return provides, could allow the pony it was bound to to home in on the enchanted object without fail. It was only a coincidence that Twilight had put it on top of the book, but… coincidence was all that the thief needed. Still, Twilight had memorized her own prophecy (how couldn’t she?), and Dinky’s drawings had been neatly hidden inside Predictions and Prophecies (where else?), which itself was more or less anonymous on the mythology shelf. Nopony had ever asked about it. Then again, maybe that was to be expected; the few sources she could find that referred to the book were unanimous in saying that its writer had been losing his or her mind, and that most of its contents were not, as the book claimed, folklore, but completely made up. But the Elements of Harmony were real enough. Maybe its own source material had simply decayed, or maybe the ponies referring to it had something against the author. Rarity and Fluttershy had joined her and Spike on the train for the visit. The Apple family, as expected, was up to their barrels in their reunion, and while Applejack appreciated the offer, she was determined to make the event the best her family had ever had; Rainbow Dash Twilight never got a chance to ask, because she and her second-in-command Icy Rain had been summoned up to Cloudsdale to answer for Monday’s missing storm, and she was staying in her home city for a few days. Twilight wished them luck. Southern Chief Wind Chime could be an unpleasant mare to deal with at the best of times. “Ten down: ‘Guesswork’, ten letters, second letter O.” “Conjecture.” Fortunately, Rarity seemed no worse for the wear after the dress order. She’d finished early morning on Wednesday, spent the entire day sleeping at the spa, and then by the time Thursday rolled around she was right as rain, though a little narked at whoever had made the order so last-minute. Twilight had told her that she should refuse offers like that which stressed her out so much, but the dressmaker was having none of it. Apparently, the stress was worth it for the eventual gain. Somehow. She had the Equestria Mirror crossword open in front of her, and Twilight had to resist the urge to tell her all the answers and not just the ones she asked for help with. “Hm.” Rarity chewed the end of her pencil. “Thank you, Twilight. Anypony would think you’d completed it already.” “She did,” put in Spike, who was rather annoyed at his current predicament. For reasons known only to themselves, the train conductor and guard had insisted he use a baby seat, apparently not listening when they were told he never needed one before. “She always does the paper puzzles on Friday mornings.” “It’s a valid method of exercising your brain,” Twilight said. She glanced over at Fluttershy, who was gazing out at the terrain rushing past. “It refreshes your vocabulary and spelling ability.” It was pretty much the only excuse to buy the Mirror; the newspaper she normally got was an exclusive delivery of the Canterlot Star which provided much less bias but no puzzles section at all. “What do you think Fluttershy?” “Hmm? Oh, I do them sometimes. Angel helps me.” How exactly her pet bunny was able to help her with a crossword was anypony’s guess, but where Angel was concerned it was better not to ask. A change of subject was in order. “Have either of you ever been to Hoofington before?” The paper lowered slightly and Rarity frowned over the top of it. “Father used to play for their hoofball team. Mother and I used to travel there to watch his matches.” She spoke of it in a tone that suggested that they weren’t fond memories. “You have never truly suffered until you’ve attended a hoofball game.” She gave an involuntary shudder. “The smell was horrendous, and don’t even get me started on what passes for fashion amongst the fans. Present company excepted of course,” she added, with a nod to Spike, who wasn’t the most enthusiastic hoofball fan in the world but still enjoyed watching it. “No problem at all, Rarity…” even the baby seat wasn’t going to put the dragon off his crush. Outside the window, the world went dark as the train entered a tunnel. “I’ve been to the museum once or twice,” said Fluttershy. “I think my uncle helped put together one of the exhibits. It was a long time ago, so I don’t really remember it.” That was news to Twilight. “Really, Fluttershy? Did your uncle work for the museum?” “No, he… just… helped…” Everything became bright for a moment, the train leaving the tunnel, and Fluttershy resumed staring out of the window. “I don’t really remember it.” “Oh.” Twilight was yet to make acquaintances with somepony who actually worked in any museums. The last curator she’d met, that had been before the Nightmare Moon incident, and she’d brushed him off in favor of the antique books on his bookshelf. That’d gone down well. “Okay. I don’t really remember when I went to Hoofington either.” “Didn’t…” Spike was trying to recall something. “Didn’t you go there after you flooded the—” “That was Trottingham! And please stop bringing that up!” “(Flooded the—)” “Please don’t ask, Rarity. It’s very embarrassing.” “My apologies, Twilight.” Rarity raised the paper again. “Now, seventeen across…” Twilight had to bite her lip to avoid shouting out the word ‘acquisition’ and desperately looked around for something else to take her mind off the crossword answers. Not really worth talking about the train compartment… Craggy Canyon was coming up in a minute, but she doubted the others would be interested in the geological processes that created it… Spike’s baby seat had an interesting design, but he might get annoyed if she reminded him of his embarrassing situation… Hm. Wait, that was it. “Does anypony know where in Hoofington Pinkie’s staying?” “Um… no.” “Afraid not.” “I do have this…” Fluttershy produced a tourism pamphlet. “I thought it might help.” With much rustling and effort, Twilight managed, eventually, to unfold it. Okay, so the station was there, the museum was there, not too far away from it… no sign of the Cakes Confectionary though, and though Hoofington was a town, it was significantly larger than Ponyville. Looking for Pinkie without knowing where she was would be like searching for a needle in a haystack… without knowing where the haystack was. And knowing Pinkie, the needle would be moving. And— perhaps that wasn’t the best simile to have used there… “Thanks anyway, Fluttershy. I’m sure we’ll find her eventually.” She wasn’t going to try folding it up again, that was tempting fate. “Twilight,” Rarity pointed out, “This is Pinkie Pie. I’m sure if we wait at the station, she’ll find us.” She had them waiting for ten minutes before she admitted that it had been a bad plan. It was an oddity, Twilight observed, that nopony seemed to recognize them as they headed down one of the main streets to try and find the Confectionary. Three of them were bearers of the Elements of Harmony and had defeated Nightmare Moon, Discord, Queen Chrysalis and King Sombra, Twilight and Spike had appeared beside the Princess in so many tabloid articles it was embarrassing, and yet none of the ponies they passed batted an eyelid. It hadn’t even been that long since the fracas at the Crystal Empire, for pony’s sake! They’d been on the front page of every newspaper in Equestria! Maybe it was like an Equestria Weird Thing as opposed to a Ponyville Weird Thing. She didn’t like interrupting strangers in their business to ask for directions, she was still uncomfortable with it, but when there was no other choice, she would. Spotting a unicorn mare who didn’t look busy, she tapped them on the shoulder. “Excuse me, could you tell me where the Cakes Confectionary is?” For a moment, the unicorn stared at her as if she’d grown a second head, then silently pointed towards a signpost, which indicated a marketplace further down the road. “Thank you.” “(What a strange pony,)” Rarity muttered when they were out of earshot. “(She could have said at least how far it was.)” Twilight glanced back; the mare was staring after them. “(I’m sure she’s just uncomfortable talking to strangers,)” she whispered back, trying to angle her head so it didn’t look like anything conspiratorial was going on. “(Right, Fluttershy?)” Fluttershy squeaked. Spike was unimpressed. In a few minutes, they reached the edge of the town’s marketplace. Well, here was the haystack, time to find the pink needle. Of laughter. Wrong, wrong— “The shop’s got to be around here somewhere. Maybe if we split up and all look for it at once—” She suddenly found a yellow hoof in front of her mouth. What was Fluttershy…? “Shh,” she said, her ears twitching. “Listen.” Ponies peddling their wares. Birds. Normal conversations. An accordion. An accordion? “Is that…” “Yes, Twilight, I believe we can all hear that,” confirmed Rarity. “If we follow the music…” started Spike. Nod. “It’s likely we’ll find Pinkie at its source.” If Pinkie was part of a musical number, the whole of Ponyville normally knew about it, whether they wanted to or not. Hoofington was bigger, but the sound carried more. “This way!” Even galloping, they weren’t as conspicuous as they ought to have been, and nopony accosted them or asked them to slow down, apart from Spike who paused to salivate at a gemstone stall before Twilight levitated him onto her back. By the time they reached a street lined with cafes and restaurants, the music was dying down, and the synchronized dancing by the nearby ponies was coming to an end. A short ways away, there was a storefront that looked remarkably familiar, and an even more familiar pink pony practically drowning herself in a soda on its steps. The pony glanced towards them, did a wildly exaggerated double take, and sprayed soda all over their faces. “Guys!” Pinkie Pie practically screamed at them. “You missed it!” “Missed what?” Twilight asked, while trying to wring the soda out of her mane. Rarity was twitching; Twilight made an effort to dry her mane too before it went all sticky and dropped her into Crisis Mode. “You missed the big musical number! Aww, and you would’ve loved it!” Without waiting for a reply, she somehow grabbed all four of them and dragged them into the building. “Welcome to the Cakes Confectionary candyland! Come on! Let’s meet Mr Cake’s sister and nephew!” “Actually, Pinkie,” Twilight started, hoping to finish before Pinkie started again, “We’re just here to—” “Twilight Fluttershy Rarity Spike, meet Mrs Fairy Cake and her son Eccles Cake,” Pinkie continued, apparently oblivious to what Twilight was trying to say. “Mrs Fairy Cake and Eccles Cake, meet my friends Twilight Sparkle, Fluttershy, Rarity and Spike!” They were given an embarrassed grin by the yellow-green mare behind the counter, garbed in an apron that was liberally covered in dried pink icing. (Also the only other pony in the room.) “Good morning, Misses,” said the mare, Fairy Cake. “Pinkie was telling us about you before she started singing.” “What were you singing about?” Twilight asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Green chocolate,” Pinkie proclaimed. “I didn’t really get it either, but it was fun anyway.” She suddenly seemed to notice the lack of a stallion in the room. “Hey, where’d Eccles go?” Fairy Cake blinked at her. “He went out with Bluebottle a few moments ago. Didn’t you see him?” “Uhhhhhhh…” Pinkie dragged the noise on for longer than it should have been necessary. “Nope! Must’ve been during the chorus when I was on the roof. By the way, unrelated, but you’re missing a few roof tiles, like, a bunch.” For a moment, Twilight caught a glance from Fairy Cake, one that silently asked ‘Does she do this all the time with you?’ She returned one that said ‘Yes’. “Don’t worry about the roof, Pinkie Pie. We know about it.” Everypony looked upwards. “I keep telling Sponge we ought to get it fixed, but he insists that lots of ponies in this town have damaged roofs, and it’d be bad luck to fix them.” This was new. Twilight had never heard of any Hoofington superstitions to do with rooftops. Her curiosity got the better of her. “Do you know what caused them?” “Personally, I think it was just a bunch of pegasi playing pranks. But ask a Hoofingtonite and they’ll tell you that it was the…” Fairy Cake glanced around conspiratorially, then lowered her voice. “The Ursa Major.” Beat. Twilight then started laughing, and quickly trailed off when she realized that nopony had joined in, not even Pinkie, who was giving her a disapproving look. “Uh, sorry, but I thought I heard you say ‘Ursa Major’. Ursa haven’t been recorded this far south for hundreds of years.” “That’s what I told Sponge. But the story goes that an Ursa rampaged through the town one night ten or so years ago and then up and vanished.” Fairy Cake rummaged around in the pockets of her apron and retrieved a soda. “I know, doesn’t make sense. But that’s what the town believes.” “Spooooky,” Pinkie put in. “Maybe it was a ghost Ursa Major!” “I’m having a peculiar sense of deja vu,” added Rarity. “Deja who?” “Do be quiet, Pinkie.” Ursa Major. Hoofington. Not the first time Twilight had heard those words used in conjunction with each other. Well, they did say that all lies were grounded in truth somewhere… To think that the town actually had a fresh superstition about it. Was this where that story started? Here, with that tale? After bidding goodbye to Fairy Cake, and purchasing some small nibbles to take with them on their way to the museum, Twilight craned her neck back to look at the roof. No denying that something had hit that hard. Could it have really been an Ursa Major, though? They’d been recently recorded in the Everfree Forest, and in the forests on the eastern continents, but neither was anywhere near Hoofington. Why would one come all the way down here, trash some rooftops, and then leave? Sure, they were huge, and they’d go through anything to protect their young, but… And why was it only a superstition? Surely somepony would have noticed? She’d barely been in the town an hour, two at the most, and already she had more questions than answers for things that had nothing to do with the intended purpose of the visit. Spike was navigating for them using the tourism map, having insisted that he wouldn’t get them lost (despite saying, out loud, that they needed to turn left at a particular intersection and immediately turning right). Both she and her assistant knew Canterlot like the backs of their hooves (well, backs of Spike’s hands, anyway), but in a strange place they tended to get lost fairly quickly. Ponyville was tiny, it was impossible to lose your way there, and still they’d managed to enter the Whitetail Woods while trying to get to the library. Granted, they knew it well now, but back when they’d only just arrived… “This way!” “Um…” “Spike, darling, that’s somepony’s house.” “It should be right… here.” “Spike, that’s the station.” “No, I’m right this time, and it’s over this way.” “Isn’t this where we started?” “Ooh, are we playing the maze game on the back of the leaflet? I love those!” Unamused, Twilight turned the map around so Spike was actually looking at it. “Oh, it’s over there!” Spike pointed down the wide street they were on, towards a large archway. “Through that arch!” As they headed for it, Rarity leaned in towards Twilight. “(Didn’t we cross this street half a dozen times?)” “(Yes.)” “Ohhh, you’re looking for the museum!” Pinkie said. “Why didn’t you say so? You can totally see it from the Confectionary! That was a total waste of a montage! Well, not a total waste, I got some ice cream out of it, but you get what I mean, right?” It had to be said, the pictures Twilight had seen of the museum didn’t really do it justice. Its facade was imposing, but still impressive, in what looked like a combination of earth, unicorn and pegasus architecture. One look at that and you knew immediately what was in the building, if you didn’t already. Everything about it just screamed ‘museum’ at you, or at least it did to Twilight, who’d visited all of the museums in Canterlot several times. On this occasion, she would have to show self-restraint, and not make any formal complaints at any minor details they happened to get wrong. She would grin, bear it, and move on before the lack of historical accuracy aggravated her too much. Beyond the archway was a large courtyard, easily twice the size of Ponyville’s town square, thronged with ponies, natives and tourists alike. It reminded Twilight much of Canterlot; even as Fluttershy shrank behind her, she was making the connections with the capital city’s festival square. These sort of crowds she was used to, even if they tended to be bowing to the Princess walking beside her. Flashing cameras, excited foals, pegasi flitting to and fro above, town residents putting on brave faces as they dealt with ponies who hadn’t done the research… part of her had missed it. Granted, she hadn’t been interested in any of it before, since she’d always been concentrating on her current or upcoming studying, but on some level she supposed she’d been paying attention. “Wow, it’s big,” said Spike, who always did have trouble being verbose about his descriptions. “Much bigger than Ponyville’s museum.” “Technically that’s not a museum.” Ponet might call it a museum, but one room full of your own art does not an exhibition make. Especially if the only variety is putting a small knockoff statuette of the Princess on the mantelpiece. Speaking of which… there were a number of statues and sculptures in the courtyard too, serving as the background for lots of the photos being taken. One of them was of the Princess, unsurprisingly; Twilight also recognized the flag-carrying High Standard and the bow-wielding Swift String, common sights in the Canterlot sculpture garden, though unusually the third of their trio, the staff-holding Sweet Royal was missing. Perhaps her statue belonged on the empty plinth, undergoing work or something. “Hey, Twilight!” As per usual for the pink mare, Pinkie had darted off to something that looked interesting to her. “Isn’t this the same as that one back in Canterlot when we broke in?” Twilight cringed and quickly glanced around to see if anypony had heard that. It didn’t seem like it, or if anypony had, they weren’t paying attention. Thank goodness for that. “Yes, Pinkie, it’s a big hourglass sculpture. It’s one of Chiselgrip’s Ten.” “Um… what’s Chiselgrip’s Ten?” Fluttershy asked, from somewhere now behind Rarity. Here comes Lecture Mode… “Chiselgrip was a sculptor who was commissioned for a set of ten large hourglass sculptures for a rich noble in the 700s, each framed using a different material. Eventually, the noble ran out of money and auctioned them off to various places. The one we saw in the Canterlot Archives (um, you won’t know this, Rarity and Fluttershy, I’ll tell you later) was the first one, fashioned from Lunite, which glows in the moonlight.” Pinkie tapped her chin. “I don’t remember it glowing. I remember it sort of being greeny-grey.” “It probably hadn’t been cleaned for a while. And Spike, it should look doubly familiar to you because number four, the golden hourglass, is in the Canterlot library.” “That’s what it was,” Spike agreed, snapping his claws. “Which one’s this?” The lavender unicorn turned her eyes back to examine it. “It looks like it’s made of bronze, which means this was the seventh hourglass.” This was the seventh hourglass. Everything her mind had been working on ground to a halt. The last line of her prophecy… and that was it. It came true. Here. Now, and she’d spoken it again with the same voice. She’d come here on the Princess’s advice which had come after the spell. Could that be a coincidence, or had the Princess recognized the meaning behind the last line? Either way, that part of the prophecy had seen her here. What else? Could the whole thing happen here, at this museum, today? Could the book’s thief draw the same conclusion? “Such a thing would go perfectly with the theme of your library, darling,” Rarity said, apparently thinking with her fashion brain and not her logic brain and not having noticed the change of voice. “Replace that horrid little bust in the middle… perhaps if it was made of copper to match the wood…” Answering that probably wasn’t a good idea, seeing as the copper hourglass, number three, was in Prince Blueblood’s private study and he used it as a hatstand. As they headed for the museum doors, Twilight’s thoughts were consumed by the prophecy once more. What further parts of it could come true here, in Hoofington? She eyed the columns flanking the entrance, which looked nothing like the ones in Dinky’s drawing. Was there any chance of them collapsing? Unlikely. They had the same design as most cloud structure columns, which meant that combined with earth pony building know-how they’d be practically indestructible. Stop thinking about it. Or the balloon - she was sure there was an aviation science exhibit. Would that be the truth behind that line? It’d certainly shift danger away from— Stop. Thinking. About it. The group of four ponies and dragon were pleasantly surprised when they entered; Princess Celestia had sent a message ahead and gotten them all VIP tickets, which included entry to all of the special exhibits, covered the cost of lunch, and, if he so wished, allowed Spike free time in the ball pond if he decided he was bored. (Given that option, he wouldn’t. Dragons and plastic ball ponds didn’t mix well. He was still banned from that one furniture store.) With that already taken care of for them, they were able to enter the museum proper. Barely a hoofstep in Twilight wished she’d behaved better as a filly. To a foal, the hallways would be astoundingly big, the flying machine hung above would be awesomely amazing, the presence of so much history would be intoxicating (at least to Twilight). As an adult, the effect was somewhat… muted. In that way, her experience was rather ruined. But still, she had the opportunity to learn things first-hoof here. Reading about them in books was a perfectly acceptable way of digesting the information, but reading about a particular process lacked a little… ‘oomph’ when compared to a working model or actual evidence. She’d snagged a few maps from the reception desk, and distributed them amongst her friends. “Anypony see anything in particular they want to go see?” Yes, she wanted to go straight to the da Colton exhibition, but right now the prophecy was still weighing on her mind and she wanted to try and clear her spirit a bit. “Anything at all?” Spike’s face almost touched the glass, and his breath was visibly fogging it up. “Wow. You really discovered all this stuff?” Of all the things she’d expected the museum to have, Twilight had not expected an area devoted to artefacts retrieved from the Castle of the Royal Sisters in the Everfree Forest, but here it was, a window to life a thousand years ago. Apparently, or at least according to the signboard at its entrance, the objects within were there by special permission of Their Royal Highnesses Princesses Celestia and Luna. That made a degree of sense. It had been their castle, after all, and technically, anything found there belonged to them. But all of this had been possible because of the bearers of Harmony, and she felt just a little pride at that, that their journey into the Everfree had not only prevented Nightmare Moon from bringing eternal night, but that it had also allowed history to continue. Even at this point, months since that event, Spike had never been to the castle, nor had Twilight or her other friends ever returned. There just hadn’t been any need, and with the danger the Forest presented, it was a hazard just to get to Zecora’s hut, let alone five times further. You couldn’t just go there whenever you wanted to. Following some discussion, the ponies had split up. Fluttershy, predictably, had wanted to visit the garden and the natural history wing; Rarity had joined her after learning that adjoining the wing was another special exhibition on pre-Nightmare fashion. Twilight and Spike had opted for a more-or-less straight but meandering route to the da Colton exhibition via the Royal Hall and Engineering Floor. Meanwhile, Pinkie had immediately disappeared to the foal’s play area, and returned a few minutes later to somewhat disappointedly relate that the supervising pony had stopped her from having fun in it. “You totally should have seen us, Spike! We were all like ‘oh no!’ and Twilight was all scared like this and Nightmare Moon was all ‘raaar!’ but then Twilight figured everything out and we were all glowy and it was Nightmare Moon’s turn to go ‘oh no!’ and we got some shiny necklaces and Nightmare Moon turned back into Princess Luna and she was all crying and Princess Celestia gave her a great big hug!” Pinkie wrapped her front legs around herself - twice - to simulate the hug. “Then we were all ‘wahoo!’ and I threw a party and it was super-duper fun and Twilight you fell asleep before it finished.” “Pinkie, you’ve told Spike this story already,” Twilight pointed out. “And I already told you, by that point I hadn’t slept for over a day.” “Oh, I never let sleep get in the way of a party. (Unless it’s a slumber party, where sleeping’s the whole point, otherwise it wouldn’t be a slumber party, would it?) If I feel I’m getting tired I just drink some of my patented Pinkie Pie’s Phruit Phizz and then I’m ready to keep on partying!” “Your… ‘Pinkie Pie’s Phruit Phizz’…” Twilight could feel her sense of spelling deteriorating even as she said it. “…is three percent water, two percent fruit juice and ninety-five percent sugar.” “Isn’t it great?!” With the amount of sugar the pink earth pony had ingested over the course of that Summer Sun Celebration, Twilight was surprised she was able to remember any of it. Then again, this was Pinkie Pie, who defied the laws of every science known to pony kind. As for the drink itself, Twilight stayed well away from it. She’d been bouncing off the walls with just one cup of coffee (which she discovered she now intensely disliked), and coffee had a minuscule amount of energy compared to Phruit Phizz. She dreaded to think what her reaction to that much sugar would be… “Sure is!” Spike, on the other hoof, had drank several cups of Phruit Phizz and still crashed out at what qualified as a regular time for him. Dragon biology, still not something fully understood by ponies. The Royal Hall wasn’t as long as Twilight had first assumed, but then it sort of made sense, considering that a lot of displays it could have held were still in situ in places like the Royal Gallery in the castle or the Royal Canterlot Museum in, well, Canterlot. It was no big loss for her; as the Princess’s student she had unfettered access to both places, not that she ever really needed it. Perhaps she should, though. Maybe some new works involving Princess Luna were now on display. Despite her best efforts, Twilight had only caught glimpses of the Night Princess since the Nightmare Night Incident, and from what she’d heard Princess Luna had barely left the castle since then. She’d come out for Shining Armor’s after-wedding party, but only for about ten minutes before she disappeared inside again. Surely she couldn’t still— “Ooooooh!” Whoosh. Uh oh, that was Pinkie’s ‘interested’ noise, the one she made whenever she was about to go hooves-on with something that fascinated her. What was it? Oh, a scale locomotive at the entrance to the Engineering Floor that foals could pretend to drive, in particular the one that held the record for the fastest steam engine in Equestria, Hurricane, named for the Commander in the Hearth’s Warming tale. (They had his actual armor in the Royal Hall they’d just left, too. Spike had been very excited to see that.) Turn back to answer Hurricane’s call. A train whistle? That would fit, but where would a seismometer come into the oh ponyfeathers. She just wasn’t getting away from it, was she? Whatever path she took to avoid thinking about it, they all led back to the prophecy. Was that the way the spell worked? Get her to write a new prophecy and then bully her into finding out what it meant? Diversion ruined, there was really only one thing to do: go straight to the Fine Arts Hall. As soon as Pinkie could be removed from the cabin of the locomotive. “Choo choo!” “Is that… him?” “That’s him, Spike.” “He looks sorta like Mr Cake did when the taffy machine exploded.” Self Portrait of the Artist, painted in CE620. Twilight had seen pictures of it in books before, but never the actual thing. All those prints, all those black-and-white reproduction sketches, they didn’t have the same feel that the portrait itself gave. Upon it, a silver unicorn stallion, staring off into the distance, presented with an incredibly messy black (or possibly deep blue) mane and beard, and a coat speckled in splotches of paint. Stalleonardo da Colton, the writer of the workbook that had been uncovered in her library, the greatest artist in known history. Not big on art, Twilight couldn’t say anything about the painting’s composition, but it gave her the chills. He’d been responsible for revolutionizing Equestrian culture, giving other ponies new ideas, new knowledge about themselves… the modern world definitely started with him. And he looked so ordinary. Tidied up, he could just have been another pony on the street, a face in the crowd, yet this very pony had gone on to such heights. Princess Celestia’s first student. His legacy was hers now. What did he have to teach her? There was a pamphlet on a stand next to it, and she procured one. “Stalleonardo was born to an ordinary family in Colton, in around CE593,” she read out loud. “This would not have been his original name, but none of his works from before the adoption of the name ‘Stalleonardo’ in 611 survive, due to the accidental fire that brought the town to the ground two years later. At this point, he added the suffix ‘da Colton’ meaning ‘of or from Colton’ as a mark of respect for his place of birth. Prior to being discovered, his works were considered unremarkable, until Her Royal Highness Princess Celestia bought a painting from him for a thousand bits in 617, at that point the largest sum paid for a single piece of art.” Pinkie’s eyes had grown to the size of dinnerplates, and it was very unnerving. “One… thousand… bits…?” She was probably imagining how much candy that could get her. “And that’s not even counting the rate of inflation.” “Wait, what do balloons have to do with it?” “Never mind.” Inside the Hall, the atmosphere was… Twilight didn’t quite know how to describe it. Everywhere she looked, there were Da Colton’s works, paintings, sculptures. How many of these were the result of the prophecy spell? Each one of them was masterful, events captured in perfect detail. A foal learning how to walk. A green mountainside. A busy street of seventh century Manehattan. They were like slices of time, preserved for eternity. Who were these ponies, shown from the past? Just ponies, and that was what had set Da Colton apart from the other well-remembered artists from his era, whose only public works were those commissioned by the wealthy. “Within the first part of the exhibition are some of his earlier works, dated from CE611 to about 624. Here you can see Stalleonardo developing his artistic identity in a variety of mediums.” Pinkie and Spike were intently listening, though how much they were understanding was anypony’s guess. “Around the corner you will see a reproduction of the painting purchased by Princess Celestia, a…” They turned the corner, and all three of them nearly jumped out of their skins. “…a portrait titled the Mona Luna.” It was unquestionably the Princess of the Night, looking resplendent in dress. “…Now known to be of Her Royal Highness Princess Luna, the painting’s original is currently installed in the Canterlot Royal Gallery.” Well. Twilight shivered. “At least we know why Princess Celestia bought it…” Celestial Era 617, six hundred and seventeen years after she would have last seen her sister. Twilight knew her teacher well, well enough to know that after that long she’d have paid any price to see Luna again. This had to be a prophecy painting. How couldn’t it be? It was almost as if she’d been there in the room as he’d painted her. To the seventh century, Nightmare Moon was a story to scare little foals; to Da Colton, Princess Luna had been real. Indeed, as they proceeded through the next part of the exhibition, several of the paintings continued the prophetic theme. Immediately recognizable was Sea Serpent, the serpent Rarity had donated her tail to, and next to it, Mare Under Apple Tree, which if you looked at it right was definitely Applejack. Elsewhere, stormclouds in the desert, Rarity in the rain, an upside-down mountain… were these the future, or the past? “Another of his most famous pieces takes pride of place in the back of the next room,” Twilight continued to read, even as they emerged into it. “Painted in CE639, and titled Harmony Reborn, it depicts the mythical defeat of the chaos spirit—” her eyes widened, and she joined the other two in staring up at it. “Discord,” they all said at the same time. An explosion of color could be used to describe it, at the center of which was the twin figures of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, and below them, writhing on the ground, the figure distorted but recognizable, the draconequus himself. Surrounding the Princesses were six orbs of light - the Elements of Harmony, if Twilight had to guess - and framing the scene were six faceless but armed ponies. Who were they? Princess Celestia hadn’t mentioned them before… Spike was trembling. “It’s him, Twilight.” It had started off as a perfectly normal day, and then Discord had turned up and ruined their lives. First, he’d taken control of the weather, making it rain chocolate from cotton candy clouds. Then he’d tricked Twilight and each of her friends into losing their connection with the Element they represented, turning them into mere shadows of their former selves, before going on to terrorize the rest of Equestria. It had taken an emergency plan from Princess Celestia, and a great deal of illness on Spike’s part, to turn the situation on its head and seal the spirit of chaos back into his stone prison. This, then, must have been the first time. Had Discord appeared as suddenly then as he had this time around? Twilight had asked Princess Celestia, in private after the award ceremony, and she had remained tight-lipped, though from her expression it could probably be assumed that she hadn’t gotten through the encounter unscathed. She’d also intended to ask Princess Luna, but the night alicorn hadn’t been present for the ceremony and didn’t turn up until after she’d left. But Twilight didn’t want to press them too hard. After all, they were much older and wiser than she, royalty on the side, it wasn’t her place to interrogate them. The last thing she wanted to do was drag up unpleasant memories. “Let’s, let’s move on before we get that dread feeling, shall we?” Twilight said brightly in an attempt to ignore the situation. Discord was imprisoned in stone again, and safely hidden somewhere in the depths of the castle. He would not be coming back. “Let’s see here, Vit’hoovian Stallion, Turtle Tank, magical theory books… Further work for the Princess… In the later years of his life, Stalleonardo da Colton complained of hearing voices, and seeing hallucinations which he claimed as real.” Uh oh. She hadn’t known this before, but that fit the bill of the prophecy spell. Is that what would happen if she kept using it too? “He continued to paint, but as is evidenced by the works on display, his works were slipping into a realm of fantasy…” Gone were the normal street scenes, the portraits, the landscapes, replaced by increasingly confused and distorted layouts that could only have been possible with the spell. At this point, then… he’d been painting exclusively prophecies and nothing else. What had happened? Or, to be slightly more precise, what had the spell done to him? Thinking back to the book, the matrix within it had been ever so slightly damaged, and she’d made repairs to it without even thinking about it. In its incomplete form, had the spell caused a change in the wrong place? Any of today’s unicorns would have seen the instability, and either have the sense not to cast it or at the very least patch the tiny bits that were missing, but those techniques wouldn’t be perfected for at least another hundred years after Da Colton’s time. Had he thought it right the whole time? Pinkie hadn’t spoken in a while, so Twilight glanced in her direction to make sure she was still there. She was, but her face reflected some sort of sadness that the unicorn wasn’t willing to admit to. This one pony… the spell had brought him success, and then it destroyed him. “It is widely believed that Da Colton was working on one final book in the closing years of his life, but if he was, it was never published, and nothing of it survives. Then, at the age of sixty three, his work was brought to a close by the Great Fire of Manehattan in CE656, during which he and his workshop were among the casualties. By his last will, those pieces that survived and remained unsold were distributed by Princess Celestia to various educational institutions, and it is by their generosity that we bring them before you today. In the coming months, archaeologists hope to locate and uncover…” she trailed off. Closing the exhibition was another self-portrait, in which the stallion looked far older than he could have been for his age. Time had not been kind to him. “…That started off all happy and fun and then it got really sad,” observed Pinkie, sitting down on one of the benches in the corridor outside. Twilight could do little but silently agree. In story, Princess Celestia had told her of her first student, of his amazing feats, but she had never mentioned his end, and now she could see why. Had he been as fearful as her, on the topic of admitting the existence of the spell? Was it and the workbook the secret he took with him, wherever he went? The Princess’s letter, a few days ago, it had said… ‘Do not let it define you’. Was that his mistake? Had he allowed his prophecies to consume him? Well, she would make a resolution, right here and now. She would not let the same happen to her. She would not lose herself in the prophecy! She would not— “Twilight!” The exclamation of her name snapped her out of her epiphany. “Fluttershy?” Out of breath, the pegasus came galloping around a corner towards them, tripped, and slid along the floor. “…Twilight, thank goodness…” “Oh gosh, Fluttershy, are you alri—” “Twilight, you… have to come with me!” Before Twilight even had a chance to offer her help up, Fluttershy was up herself and tugging at one of her legs. “Quickly!” “What is it? I—” “You heard the mare! Double time! Move like you gotta purpose!” shouted Pinkie, suddenly over the whole sadness of the exhibition, and adopting a marching pose. When Twilight didn’t do the same, she rolled her eyes, and— “Hey, Pinkie?! Put me down!” “Orders are orders, Private Twilight! Lead on, Commander Fluttershy!” “I’m not—” Pinkie dropped her. “We’re here!” ‘Here’, when Twilight got her bearings and got over the fact that Pinkie moved so fast they didn’t even seem to move, turned out to be one of the balconies overlooking the courtyard, next to Rarity and a few other ponies. It was mid-afternoon now, and for the briefest of moments Twilight thought about lunch before her eyes caught up to her brain and kicked it into listening to them. Courtyard. Statues. Sculptures. Otherwise, completely empty. “What the hay…?” she murmured under her breath, all thoughts of chiding Pinkie banished to the ether. Where were all the tourists, the Hoofingtonites? Surely they couldn’t all be having a late lunch, could they? Surely there’d be somepony left… “Twilight Sparkle!” Oh no. She knew that voice. It belonged to… Down below, a pony stepped out from the shadow of the Clover the Clever statue on the north side of the courtyard. Garbed in a cloak that billowed in the wind, and a pointy hat that could have been Star Swirl’s (except for the color and lack of bells)… The mare who called herself great and powerful. “Trixie.”