Members of our expedition have been saying that the First is still alive. While I don’t put myself on either side of the issue, there have been... disturbing reports of sightings recently. Shapes on the horizon, the scent of death on the winds. The sandrunners are on edge, and I fear that the tomb’s reputation may just as well be true. And if it is, and if these recurring signs grow ever more grim... we all march to our deaths. But our great ruler has placed his utmost trust in us, that we must recover this sacred artifact if our future is to be preserved. Ancestors protect us.

-Unknown writer, from a ledger recovered in the wake of the Lost Expedition’s trail by rangers

Kandro’s eyes shot open, his breathlessness catching up to him as he heaved in dry desert air into his lungs. The sky was monochrome, the sky white and the sun a most eerie black, and though he felt firm with the dirt underneath his head, the air felt frigid upon his skin. He shuddered as he groggily looked around, his vision blurred by an unknown trauma.

“Where... am I?” he asked, doing as asked. He began to search for his sword when he realized that it was nowhere in sight, even across the empty vastness of the desert landscape that now greeted his eyes.

The voice chuckled. “Recall now, sire. Think, and you may find that the surroundings that you stand in no different from where you were before. Let not the sand and skies distract you.”

So he did, and he realized that he stood in... Tandreat? So was his assumption, but it was not the City of Hope he remembered seeing before he had fallen unconscious and taken into darkness. No, this Tandreat was... destroyed, ruined, a facet of what unfortunate fate would have fallen upon it had he failed to complete his duty. The City of Hope had naught a single object left standing that could allude to its original state.

“Indeed it is,” the voice replied. “This is a world between worlds, where fate and its strings have no bearing upon the mortal realm. It is a facsimile, one of many, that merely follows a world’s progress to its end.”

“Then what is... this realm, exactly?” he asked. Winds passed across the ground, shifting the sands along and revealing a weathered road that trailed forward. A lone dune stood in the distance, the trail ending just before it. He marched forward, fending off the world’s melancholic tones as he listened.

“It is a place where neither magic nor life exists. As aforementioned, a world between worlds. You may recall this place before, as you have visited once in time, and it was there I first visited you, when our great enemy first revealed his hand.”

“Enemy...?” Kandro said. His mind was suddenly slammed with pain, and he fell to his knees as the rush of memories flooded back all at once. And it was there he remembered: the Trickster, the ghost of Renascence, and his father’s throne. His martialsword, the only facet of color in a world turned grim, and now... a weapon forged by powers beyond those of the gods themselves. “He... the Trickster...!” he gasped out.

“Yes... you remember now,” the voice said, its tone bearing only the slightest tone of satisfaction. Again, Kandro could only catch his breath as he let his conversationalist partner speak. “He lured your dreams to this place, to instill that primal fear into all beings who have gazed upon proof of his malevolence. And when you realized that he had returned... he wiped your mind like grime off a stone slate, and you were ignorant again.”

“He would have returned anyway,” Kandro said, continuing forward. “My knowledge of our meeting could not have done much to alter the events that occurred shortly after I had woken up, after all. And who are you, mysterious host, that speaks to me from the skies?”

“Who I am is of no importance... though I will let your mind be free to assume what it does. Like many, I have been watching you since the world began to unfurl, watching as the young prince began his ascension to the imperial throne. You have much to do, even more to learn, but you soldier on, unwilling to bend your knee to the demons that plague us all.”

“Then what would you have me here for?” he inquired. His boots clicked on the stone as he stepped forward, transitioning into the crunch against sand as he began to ascend the granular incline. His breath escaped as puffs of steam, and the apex of the dune was within his reach.

“You must understand the power you wield now, in your hands.” The ground shook as he reached the top of the dune, and his sword, amidst the glow of ethereal energies, rose from the parting grains before him. A shrill ring echoed past his ears, and he reached out to it. “The Blade of the First... in its namesake, truly the first of its kind. It is the vessel of the empyrean’s energies that will excise the evil from the world.”

“Yes... the First is... this is his legacy, is it not? Such an intricate plan, only now coming to fruition...” He replaced the sword back into its sheath and looked out to the horizon. “Is he alive, stranger?”

“To quash your thoughts, no... the First no longer stands alive in your world. The Blade must be taken to Renascence, where the Trickster’s foul influences must be stricken down before they can be allowed to spread. This is something that you and your companions must do. Seek the aid of the Elements in this task. Together with the Blade, you will vanquish the Trickster forever.”

“Because you are the hope of all beings upon the face of the earth. The mighty alicorns are powerless before this threat, too far complacent as they are, and so it has fallen upon humanity to take up the sword and end it. I have no secrets to hide from you, and I brought you here because your synergy with the Blade, your first taste of empyrean power, allowed me to pull you here, that I may impart my advice and thoughts in a realm where time is not a restraint.”

“Will the Trickster not see us here? Will he not be aware of our presence?” he said, as his suspicions were voiced. The Trickster had brought him here before. Was this his seat of power? If not, he certainly must have had a grasp of this realm and its nuances to bring him here earlier. Who was to say that the being that spoke to him now wasn’t simply the demon in disguise?

“No, and for that, I must plead that you trust me. I cannot make any promises that I am not the Trickster, but his control here has long since faded. His attentions are now focused upon seeing the end of your world, and I have taken it upon myself to liberate one of these domains. And it behooves you to know that there are a great many more realms such as this... many of these worlds... between worlds. That is why we are safe, for not even one as powerful as he could bear to search through so many. Were it that he was aware of us, that is.”

“Then what else do you wish to instruct me upon?” Kandro asked, shrugging to the sky. “I can hardly imagine as one as intangible as yourself could simply let a mortal carry out a task better suited for his own facilities.”

“I have none else to tell you, for your task is made clear. The only thing I have left to tell you... I... I cannot remember. Curses! My energies wane now, and I cannot maintain a clear focus on keeping you here,” the voice replied arduously. The world began to waver before Kandro’s eyes, making it seem as if he were standing in a painting. “All I can remember is that... that... if your task fails... seek the wall... remember, Kandro... the wall...”

“Wait!” Kandro cried out, frantically stumbling around as he attempted to futilely seek the voice out. “I still have more questions! What is this wall?! What kind of wall is it?! Where is it at?!”

“I’m... not... done... yet...! What... wall?!” Kandro said through gritted teeth, falling into the depths below him as the ground gave way to darkness. The force of rushing air was all that tore through his body as he plummeted further and further, until the skies were nothing but a pinprick. Only then did he close his eyes, his world falling silent once again.

“He’s awake!” Twilight exclaimed. The huddling group that were skirting the backs of the group began to back away as Kandro opened his eyes. “Prince Kandro, are you okay? You aren’t hurt or anything, are you?”

“Ugh, I’m... fine,” Kandro replied unhappily. “The damned conversation was too brief...”

“I’m sorry?” Twilight asked, but was cut off as Jerrovahn budged in beside her.

“Prince Kandro!” Jerrovahn said, grasping him by the shoulders and exuberantly shaking him in triumph. “You’ve done it! The attack has been routed and the city is safe! Rahvan, unfortunately, is not here, but he brought you back to the temple unharmed.”

“The city is safe...?” Kandro said, rubbing his chin. As fearsome as the power may have been, he sincerely doubted that the death of one lieutenant would have been enough to send the entirety of the assaulting legion running. “Listen, Jerrovahn, I don’t think it would be that easy to repel such an attack...”

Kandro arched his head backwards, staring towards the obelisk behind him. Its decorative features glowed, the sun’s symbol shimmering with a radiant solar energy as a beam streamed past the open roof into the skies and the heavens. And from there, he could see the shield bubble that curved over the city’s height.

“It was... something, perhaps, something to do with the sword,” Sehyia said, stepping in with Rarity and Fluttershy to finish bundling his arms in bandages. “It’s amazing, sire. Jerrovahn gave me a relic that channeled such incredible powers, and I found myself able to proficiently deal with these new demons. Your sword’s more prominent energies must have activated the obelisk when you used it.”

“I... did that...?” he muttered in wonder. His hand drifted to his belt, and he found the sword nowhere to be found, and only then did he realize it was placed upon the marbled floor next to him, upon a simple tan cloth. “The sword’s power is... immense. When I triggered it, I fought the lieutenant as if nothing else mattered more in the world. It was surreal... even more so when I passed out.”

“Yes.” Jerrovahn raised his arms high, reverently gesturing to the obelisk. “It produced a grand explosion of energy that stretched through all of the city, purging the chaos beasts that ran through the streets, and created this bubble that now protects us.”

“Passed out?” Reugas asked afterward, leaning against a column beside him. “You were muttering things in your sleep when they dragged you in here, m’lord. Pray tell, what happened when you were unconscious?”

“Things...” Kandro replied. He gave a short gasp of pain as Sehyia tightened his wraps, and he shook his head. “I... it was strange. There was a place, full of nothing but sand, a ruin of Tandreat, and... a voice. He spoke to me, told me of the sword’s powers, and revealed that I’d spoken to the Trickster before.”

“No, not preposterous... I remember the conversation as clear as day. The Trickster was sure that I wouldn’t remember, that he visited me in my dreams to instill fear into my heart. He revealed that he means to end the imperial bloodline, to conquer the world and devour its energies whole. The voice helped me to remember that... and then told me that the sword, in combination with the Elements of Harmony, are both needed to defeat the Trickster.”

“Well, we already know that much,” Reugas said, the end of his statement shadowed by the cries of wounded men as they were cared for by the attending nurses. The pews sat empty as the great temple doors stood shut, guarded by soldiers of the order from outside. “Did he tell you anything else?”

“Yes... there was one thing...” Reugas closed his eyes, frowning as he recalled the fall as the world dissolved around him. “The voice couldn’t stay with me for long. I fear that he may have spent too much energy attempting to keep me within that ‘world between worlds’, as he called it. He told me that, in the case where we should fail, to ‘remember to seek the wall’.”

“A wall?” Artim piped in with pad in hand, having been taking notes of the conversation. “What sort of wall?”

“I do not know. His last two words for me were ‘remember’ and ‘wall’.”

“Yes... that is curious,” Artim said, jotting it down in his pad emphatically as he circled it several times. “I do believe there are several leads for that, but... they are vague at best. Ancestors protect us, and ensure that our plan does not fail, otherwise we’d be sent on yet another wild chase for things long since buried.”

“With such a powerful weapon with us, there is nothing to fear,” Tehin said cheerily. He patted Sehyia on the shoulder, making the blade dancer flinch as he laughed aloud. “See Sehyia here? Jerrovahn’s relic was used on her blade, turned her into a truly deadly butterfly dancing across the field of battle, if the others have explained anything to me.”

“A relic?” Kandro gazed upon Jerrovahn, who was busy digging through a pouch nearby. “What sort of relic, elder?”

“A most powerful one, my prince,” Jerrovahn said. “Though minor, they also contain the essences of the empyrean, and are capable of being infused into weapons to bring out their true potential. Only masters of their craft would even be considered for their use, and the Pillars of the Obsidian Spire more than fit the criteria.” He fetched out four more rocks, tossing them to each of the Pillars who had not yet been anointed with divine strength. “Here, for all of you. May you all strike true with your weapons.”

“Now we’re talking,” Reugas said, approvingly watching as the runed stone absorbed itself into his bow, reshaping it into a resplendent longbow, gold trim and pure white components as gift to his eyes. “It’s larger now, I wonder if—damn!” A shaft of pure energy appeared as he pulled back the string, causing him to release it and fire the bolt straight into the wall, where it embedded itself before fizzling out.

“Try not to kill anyone, will you, Reugas?” Tehin said. He slammed his own stone into his staff, unamused as the only change to occur was a difference in color, now painted with the color of snow. “Well, I can’t say there’s much to look at here...” For emphasis, he realized and lowered his staff, earning himself a surprise when the resulting force cracked the tiles. “Function over form, huh? I can live with that.”

Yhimit, wordless as he was, simply watched as his twin blades molded themselves into their empyrean variants. The hilts appeared as if they were wings, so light and airy as they were when he twirled the weapons around in his hands. With a final approving nod, he stored them in their sheaths, and merely crossed his arms again as he let the final member of their circle ascend their prowess.

And with Artim left, the question was immediately obvious: what could he use his relic upon? As an arcanist, his weapon was innate, the fuel of his magical aptitude that allowed him to cast spells. There was nothing object of steel to mold itself into, no weapon... save for himself.

The relic broke into motes of light, slipping through his fingers as they began to swirl around his head. His eyes glowed and he could only stand idly as they began to imbue him with incredible magic. Even Twilight could only watch, mouth agape, as the energy funneled into his mind, stopping only when he closed his eyes. But by then, it was complete, and the only response the arcanist gave was a nervous chuckle.

“Well, that was... interesting,” he said. He retrieved his pad and quill, which he’d dropped onto the floor when the relic animated itself. “There can’t be much else to change, but if there’s empyrean magic, then...” He disappeared in a crack of heavenly light, appearing on the other side of the hall. “Then I can do this!” He teleported again and again; through the seats of the pews, onto the chandeliers, and behind all the columns, before returning to his original position.

“And that’s not to say there isn’t anything for our pony friends here,” Jerrovahn said. He retrieved a medallion, kept underneath his robe. Removing it from its anchor around his neck, he raised it high towards the light of the obelisk.

“What do we get?” Twilight asked, curiously approaching Jerrovahn, both watching as the energy tapered off of its column, streaming into the medallion. The ponies gasped at the face that appeared as the portal opened up before them. Princess Celestia stared down at them, smiling warmly in her routine greeting.

“Hello, my little ponies,” she said, turning to Jerrovahn. “How interesting. I had completely forgotten that I’d given the Empire access to my solar magic...”

“Greetings, Paragon of the Sun,” Jerrovahn said, himself bowing as the medallion hung unassisted in the air to convey the alicorn. “We haven’t met, but I must say... it is an honor to meet you. I am Elder Jerrovahn, and I am one of your humble followers who maintain the Temple of Dawn, here at the imperial city of Tandreat.”

“It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Elder Jerrovahn,” Celestia replied kindly. She looked around the room, her frown growing as she looked upon the wounded at the side of the room, and Kandro sprawled out before her. “Things look dire. How have you fared in your journey so far, Twilight?”

“Things have been... um, dangerous,” Twilight managed to say, her ears flattening against her head. “I can’t really say much, since the humans have been doing most of the work. The monsters here are... terrifying, Princess. Have you fought them before?”

“A long time ago, yes.” Celestia tilted her head in question towards her faithful student. “I’m afraid you will have to learn how to do more than just repel them, Twilight. There was a time when the needs of combat magic were paramount in a unicorn’s education. They’ve long since fallen to the wayside in the curriculum, but it would do you well to learn about it now.”

“I suppose I can aid with that,” Artim said. He walked up, standing next to Twilight and greeting Celestia with a respectful bow. “Well, I’m sure we’ve met already, but I can say that your student is quite the prodigy with defensive magic. Would you believe that we had to rely on her magic to safely guide us through most of our journey?”

“I am pleased to hear that, but perhaps now instruct her in a different school of magic. One that you are well-versed in?” Celestia said hopefully, worriedly adding, “It is for the best, perhaps, that you and all of your friends become acquainted with the dangers of combat, Twilight.”

“I will, Princess,” Twilight confirmed. With a questioning look at Artim, his face, and then his hands, she nervously fidgeted around on her hooves. “Sorry, it’s just that I’m... not really used to hurting anypony. Not... seriously. Or, rather, you know...”

“It must be done, Twilight, and I am sorry that it had to be so. The Trickster will, despite his name, play no games with you. It will be for the greater good that you learn how to fight. Besides... I should say that it is considered a royal duty to be able to know how to fight. Even Blueblood, in his temperament, has learned how to do so.”

“Well, I’m sure she might have had at least some sort of combat training...” Artim said, in hopes that his workload could be lessened. After all, there was never a student of magic who wasn’t interested in playing with fire, right?

“Yeah!” Pinkie piped in. “Back when the changelings invaded Canterlot and we had to stop them, I totally used Twilight as this awesome magical pew-pew blaster thingy! It was great, Twilight can crank out magical bolt flying thingamajigs like I can scarf down a whole tray of cupcakes! Pew pew pew!”

“Anything is a good start,” Artim said, laughing at Pinkie’s exaggerated motions of turning Twilight into a pony-powered deliverer of arcane destruction.

“There is something else,” Jerrovahn said. “And I must implore the Paragon to sift through her mind to find it. The Elements, yes... they are ancient, and powerful. But here, we still have access to the empyrean’s depths.”

“Ah, yes... the infusion technique.” Celestia nodded thoughtfully. “I had used it during the Trickster Conflict, and I see no reason why it should not be used again. Very well, Elder Jerrovahn. Since it seems you are still acquainted with the rituals required to cast the spell, you have my permission to do so.”

“Of course.” Following another bow, Jerrovahn again beckoned the medallion to heed his commands. The Elements of Harmony materialized upon the chests of the ponies, catching all in a sudden moment of surprise before the medallion instilled them each with their own powers. The ponies were lifted above the ground, engulfed in a swirl of pure energies as the infusion began to take place.

Blinding, if there was such a word to describe it, would have fitted the scene best. By the time the ponies’ hooves touched off again on solid ground, the room had been engulfed in pure light for moments too long, but the result was spectacular.

They were all armored, head to tail, in the most glorious battle armor to ever grace a pony within the recent millenium. Transcending even the honorable uniform of the royal guards, their gilded armor was the envy of all who laid eyes upon it, if they had been present at the time. The telltale color scheme of each pony still visited themselves upon each of their armors, making them visually distinct as the ponies gazed upon themselves and at each other in awe.

For Applejack and Pinkie, theirs were the basest: strong plate armor, covering even their legs down to the bottoms of their hooves, and a grand helmet with plumage that made the royal guards’ look like amateur work. The armor was fitted to the things earth ponies were best suited to, and that was feats of strength, though Pinkie Pie may have trouble living up to such deeds.

Twilight and Rarity had the their own, styled faintly in the way that of the unicorn battle mages of old, wearing a hybrid of both robe and armor to facilitate their protection when they were deep within the field of battle. Their hoods carried an open hole for their horns to protrude from, with a mask covering the rest of their facial features.

Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy wore mail that harkened back to the days of Commander Hurricane. Adorning flairs of curling clouds and striking lightning bolts trailed on the sides of their cuirasses, and their helmets were aerodynamically designed, curved ahead of the snout to provide them with maximum speed while allowing their vision to stay focused ahead.

“Now this is awesome,” Dash said, angling around to get a better look at her armor. The others did the same, exchanging comments upon their new wear between themselves and the humans as Jerrovahn and Celestia both looked on, pleased with the outcome.

“Perhaps this will provide you with the edge you need in combat,” Celestia said. “Do not fear the evils that stand before you, my little ponies, but tread carefully, lest you find yourself at their mercy. And I, of all, speak with truth when I say that they do not have any.” She looked aside, nodding to a faint voice near her. “I see. Very well, then. I am relieved to find that you are all fine, but I must leave now. Good luck to you all. You will need it.”

The portal closed, leaving the medallion to drop unceremoniously to the floor, where Jerrovahn then retrieved and donned it around his neck again. His enthusiasm had faded, replaced with an even grimmer expression than before.

“Now that we’ve concluded that business... I’d suppose it would be best to discuss a greater subject of interest.” He looked at Kandro, holding eyes with his gaze as he continued, “We must discuss the voice.”

“Who is the voice?” Kandro asked, pausing to give a gracious nod to the servant who appeared beside him to place a mug of water on the table. “We spoke in the dream, but he seemed... reluctant to let me know of who he was. And then our conversation was abruptly cut short, and then he disappeared.”

“You are the main piece on the playing board,” Jerrovahn said, sitting across from him at the table. The fires crackled in a grand fireplace next to it, with all of them, human and pony, occupying every seat in the room. Security was sparse; only Rahvan stood in the room, wearing the armor he’d been fighting in only hours before. “Many elders and champions have spoken with this voice before. He is ancient... powerful... and clearly does not wish the Trickster to be victorious in this war.”

“Yes, but who is he?” Kandro asked again. “We only spoke briefly, yes, but there was much he did not let me know. There must have been clues that others may have gleaned from discussions longer than mine.”

“Honestly?” Jerrovahn’s lips flattened in neutrality, and he shrugged. “We do not know. Our guesses are as good as yours at this point, but we do sincerely believe it is merely a founder of Lherren, with flesh taken to spirit, guiding us.”

“A founder of Lherren,” Artim said, raising a wrapped finger at him. “But one of the living, or the dead, following the entombing of the First?”

“That singles things out, then,” Twilight interjected. Artim brought out a scroll, unfurling it upon the table between himself and Twilight, and both began to search through it. “It’s unfortunate that the dead ones didn’t have their names recorded in history...”

“Though whether out of request or necessity will never be determined.” Artim shook his head and wrapped up the scroll, replacing it into his travel pack. “So, then that leaves us simply with what you know then, Elder Jerrovahn.”

Jerrovahn chuckled, smiling at him. “Not only us, Keeper Artim. There has been more than one scholar from Lherren’s academies that have spoken with this voice, as well.”

Jerrovahn caught his whispered word, leaning forward on the table and tilting his head questioningly. “I see that the voice has revealed at least that much to you, it seems,” he said. “Yes, there are agents. What has not been explicitly revealed is just who these agents are, or where they operate.”

“Quiet, Rahvan,” Jerrovahn ordered, cutting the champion’s self-approving chuckle short. “We don’t know who these agents are. We’ve searched far and wide, high and low for them, yet could not find a single clue of their existence.”

“Unlikely,” Sehyia huffed. “If recent happenings are anything to go by, this is all their doing. The statues here, the energies, even the Blade of the First.”

“She is correct,” Kandro said. “I believe that when the voice mentioned ‘agents’... if anything, I have to say that they might have shared in the fate of the founder who brought us the message.” He rapped his knuckles against the table as he thought. “I just don’t comprehend what happened. It sounded like he had a lot more to tell me, but was cut short...”

“I would hope so. I still have lots of questions for him to answer.” Kandro stared at the wood grain of the table, ignoring the attention upon him. “I will ask him about the First next time.”

A sharp noise punctured the silence. Yhimit had thrown his hands down upon the table, standing in his seat, and seemed entirely... discontent. Wordlessly, he walked around the table, producing a letter in his hands to present to Kandro, with a simple wax seal upon it bearing the decal of the crown.

“What is this, Yhimit...?” Artim asked for them all. Kandro gave Yhimit a suspicious glance, noting that the disciple’s eyes held no malice. He unfolded the paper and laid it flat against the tabletop, and began to read it aloud.

“From the benefactors of the past to the prince of now,” he began. “We greet you from the beyond, young prince. This letter has been passed down through the generations, in the hopes that it will one day reach your hands, received through the hands of our own agents.” He looked back to Yhimit in disbelief. Though already an enigma, the letter had only catapulted his mysteries into unfounded territories. Who was he, really?

Yhimit, as expected, did not answer, instead waving Kandro on by gesturing back towards the letter. “The one that has handed you, as you suspect, is indeed a soldier of the Empire in our employ. Worry not, since by the time this has reached you, our organization has all but been disbanded, forever lost to time like sands in the wind. You have a great task set upon you here, emperor-to-be, so pay heed to what follows.”

“Prophecies and more asinine hogwash,” Reugas spat, huffing under his breath. “I don’t wish to be a plaything of some greater god’s games. If it were not for our mission and our dire straits, I would have left with nary but a word. We imperials are free-willed, unbound by petty things like fate. We’ve all been played to be fools since it just turns out that was the plan all along.”

“First, and the clearest: you must succeed at your task,” Kandro continued, ignoring Reugas’ outburst. “You must seek out the Trickster at wherever bastion he has now claimed as the stronghold in which he will step out from into the rest of the world. You must travel there as fast as your winds allow it, and vanquish him as soon as possible.

“Second, and trivial at the moment: you are to be emperor now. Learn from the ways of your father and the fathers before him. Be proud. Be strong. Never fail to place trust in the man—and ponies—beside you. You will need their strength and guile in the days to come, for the Trickster’s name belies his true acts: to destroy and consume, not to deceive and mislead. At one time, it has worked on us. It will not work again.

“Third, and the most dangerous, for the rising lord of lords: the First lives, and he watches. He slumbers in the empyrean, blind to the world of the living, yet he expects great things of you. Once there was a time where he believed that he and only he alone could defeat the Trickster, and it was agreed upon that you would deliver his blade to him. No longer is this the case. Now you will wield the blade in righteous fury on his behalf, and with it, you shall bring true peace to our people, once and for all. May your songs echo into eternity... the Brotherhood of the Free Men.”

“Nonsense,” Reugas replied. “If he were to break—or fulfill, doesn’t matter—his oath, don’t you think he would have said what he intended to tell us, not hand a letter off to Prince Kandro?” He gestured to Artim and asked, “You know the disciple better than any of us do. What do you make of this?”

“Honestly?” Artim could only shrug. “I have no knowledge of this. There is nothing, in the entire span of my existence, that ever alluded to the Brotherhood of the Free Men in my studies. And I have studied a great many things, from ancient tomes to royal correspondences, even very recent ones. Yhimit does not lie, though... I’ve never known him to be a liar, and I see no reason why he would begin to now.”

“So he hasn’t broken his oath yet,” Tehin said, absorbed in the current state of affairs as Pinkie handed off a prairie berry fruit tart to him, both enthralled by the scene playing out before them. “Our communication could certainly be made easier if he could speak...”

Yhimit only shook his head, as pulling out another sealed paper... or rather, papers, as they appeared to be a document tied together with string. He handed it off to Artim, who promptly had the object seized out of his hands by Twilight, who then unwrapped it. She smiled at him and wiggled her ears around as she handed it back to himi.

“It’s easy. Maybe I can teach you how to do it, along with other practical magical spells, in return for teaching me how to fight?” she said.

“I feel like I’m the one getting the bargain here,” he replied, laughing as he began to read the papers. “You’re the one that’s going to have the difficulty, I’m afraid. Combat spells are not something to be toyed with, and they most certainly will not be lenient if you fail...”

“I... I can handle it!” Twilight said, her confidence wavering, but only just slightly. “I’ve never failed any test in magic that Princess Celestia has given me. I can work things out. I’ve studied for—”

“Studying cannot help you in this, Twilight, you must know that,” he interrupted. “Like with all things in life, you can only gain—truly gain—experience in this by actually doing it. Studies and books will not help you much, except with letting you know what you must do to cast the spell. Without doubt, I will have the easier time, simply learning how to move books around... and I have some semblance of ability with teleportation.”

“Oh...” Her ears drooped and she looked down at the stone floor. “Well... at least I have someone experienced to teach me, right?”

He laughed, patting her on the head. “That’s the spirit. We’ll make a true defender out of you yet. Now, then, onto business.” With another cursory glance across the room as Yhimit sat down, he began. “This... is a dossier detailing everything there is to know about the Brotherhood.”

“For starters, how about we learn who the hell they are, first?” Reugas suggested.

“A good start,” Artim agreed. He flipped through several pages; all were brimming to the margins with dozens of notes, several of them crossed out or otherwise replaced. Artim’s pace of perusal increased until he reached the end, in which he sighed and lowered his hands. “Sweet ancestors, this thing’s a mess. Did you write this, Yhimit?”

Yhimit merely nodded, and waved him on to continue reading. Begrudgingly, Artim sighed and began anew, muttering something under his breath about unorganized messes and how the Grand Library would never tolerate such discrepancies, before Twilight claimed ownership of the document again through magic.

“I’ll see if I can find it,” she appeased. “I’m good at looking through notes, no matter how messy they might be. Mind if I take a look?”

“Then I delegate this task to you,” Artim said, letting Twilight happily attend to a task she could be a use in as he tilted his head questioningly towards Yhimit. “So, Yhimit... have you been in this Brotherhood for long?” A nod. “How long? Decades?” Another nod. “So it is, then. Such an important organization... masquerading in the shadows. I hope that their efforts weren’t in vain.”

“Are you some kind of an assassin?” Reugas continued, receiving a shake. “Damn. I was sure that you were some sort of mythical figure of terror. You certainly act the part, wearing that mask of yours all the time. Did you make that yourself?” A rapid nod was returned, as if he had been delighted to hear the question. “And your swords?” To their surprise, he shook his head.

“I bet he was some sort of sneaky fellow back in his day, right?” Applejack said, to which a shake came the reply. “Gad-durnit. He looks like the sneaky type, don’t he, Rainbow Dash?”

“Yeah, totally. I mean, uh, he really looks like the kind of guy who can take names and then some,” Dash said, fiddling around with the helmet in her hooves. “But he can’t be all bad, right? I mean, we’re all good guys here... right?”

Tehin released a hearty laugh, snorting as he held back chunks of tart from flying from his mouth as he pointed at Reugas. “Bad? The worst of it is that man over there. He once bet a peacekeeper to a bet that if he could drink him under the table, he could go free—and it was a brother ranger, no less!”

“The ranger knew who I was, and he thought he could stand against me,” Reugas said, giving a half-hearted shrug before taking to his mug. “I won handily, and was allowed to walk free. There isn’t a single soul in the world who could outdrink me.”

“I’ll challenge you to that,” Dash said, flaring her wings as she smacked her hoof into the table. “After we’re all done with this saving the world business.”

“Wasn’t this after you became a Pillar, Reugas?” Sehyia asked; Reugas said nothing, as he already knew the answer, but she pressed on. “Yes, why, I do believe that was after you became a Pillar. At your own initiation party, no less. I should remember, we were all invited.”

“See, you’re in the presence of good company,” Tehin said. “Though I’d have to say that, for future reference, of course, that we simply remain aware and alert for the actions of Yhimit as we continue on our journey.” He looked at Yhimit, then gave a sheepish smile. “No offense, that is.”

Yhimit nodded understandingly, ending the conversation right as Twilight’s mumblings finished and she cried out triumphantly. “A-ha! Okay, I have all the notes compiled in my head now, and I know what we’re looking for!”

“Can she really do that?” Artim asked the ponies with a hint of astonishment. “Just read a book and remember it—” He snapped his fingers. “—just like that?”

“Yep, that is certainly our dear Twilight,” Rarity said, giving a lilting laugh as shades of red began to grow upon Twilight’s cheeks. “Oh, she is organized, but she used to be far... mmm, shall I say, draconian than what she is now. She can devolve into quite the... eccentric when things don’t go her way.”

“Okay!” Twilight nearly shouted, catching herself at the last moment and toned her volume down. “Now, let’s get onto the document, before we all forget, hmm?” A discontent smile was shot towards Rarity, and the fashionista averted her gaze. “For what Reugas asked earlier, we have this: the Brotherhood of Free Men is an ancient order created under the directions of the founders of Lherren.”

“Seems like the founders had their fingers in everybody’s water barrel,” Reugas said. “So we know who they are. What were they created to do?”

“The Brotherhood was given the directive of carrying out the orders given to them by the First, with whom they crafted an intricate plan to deliver salvation to the people of the Empire when the Trickster would return,” Twilight answered. “From this, the original members were the founders themselves, who then branched out and began recruiting men and women of varying backgrounds in order to nurture the fledgling Empire into what it has become today.”

“Good gods,” Artim said. “A guiding hand more powerful than an emperor, and as invisible as a drop of water in the sand... nobody would have ever suspected a thing, and they’ve actually managed to stay hidden for so long! What do you make of this, my liege?”

“I think I’d rather have them amongst my council than pulling me through their plan like some plow through a field,” Kandro admitted. “We do ourselves no favors to continue as divided as we are.”

“Well, that’s a problem, too, because...” Twilight gave a broken laugh, reversing the paper to show Kandro a specific section pointed out by a floating quill: a bullet-point list of names... all of them crossed out with the words ‘deceased’ written next to it as a collective status. “As you can see, they’re all... dead. With exception of Yhimit here, right at the bottom. I suppose the Brotherhood must have died out as the Empire’s time of reckoning drew near, and they didn’t need as many people to carry out what was left of their duties.”

“A shame,” Kandro said simply, shuffling around in his seat as he let out a tired sigh. “Are there any other important details in that document that we should know about?”

“Let’s see... well, a lot of this stuff we already know: the plan, the voice and their own limited interactions with it, and the Trickster’s return. Beyond that, the only other interesting subject in these pages is the study of the magical bleeding effect from the land... and that’s what most of the pages in this document are comprised of. Nothing but notes.”

“I’d like to hear if they’ve found a better solution to our problem than any of us have.”

“As a matter of fact, they do!” Twilight removed a page from the bundle, presenting it to each member of the table before placing it in front of Kandro. “The result of their plan to destroy the Trickster means that a massive outpour of energy would come forth following the dissolution of chaotic center in this world.”

“Just raw energy?” Artim asked, penning his own notes as he dragged the paper to himself. “Impossible. That much raw energy let loose at once would leave nothing but a crater—a massive one, if my assumptions to the level of energies the Trickster commands is true. Why, there’d be nothing left of the Empire except a valley of smoke and ashes!”

“Yes, but as you can see here,” Twilight said, dropping a hoof on yet another erratic compilation of notes, written in red ink, “that’s what the plan intended to happen. In fact, that’s why the plan was made just so, and it’s absolutely amazing how much foresight they had. They intended for the Empire to ask Equestria for help in the first place, and for you to bring back the Elements of Harmony with you!”

“So what happens, then?” Rainbow Dash asked. “We just use our Elements and suddenly the Empire returns to normal?”

“I have to second that,” Reugas said. “I thought that the magic deficiency situation in our land did not have ties to the Trickster beyond the obvious point of being its cause. Now we’re learning that the Brotherhood intends to use the Trickster as a way to saturate our dead lands with magic once again?” He folded his arms and shook his head. “I’ve heard many a solution to that problem, but this has to be the craziest.”

“But it makes sense, wouldn’t it?” Sehyia said. “The Elements are ancient, powerful, and protectors of all that is good. Wouldn’t it make sense for them to take energies from the Trickster and return what was lost to us?”

“Assuming they work, darling,” Rarity said, patting Sehyia’s hand reassuringly. “I’m not sure in my entire history that the Elements have ever been used for something as... grandiose as this before. Mostly, they’ve just been used to pacify or otherwise isolate certain unruly, but dangerous, entities from the world.”

“She does have a point,” Applejack said to Twilight. “Has there ever been any hoo-hah in the books ‘bout the Elements being used to... you know, save the land or anythin’ like that?”

“No, but I don’t think anypony knows about the potential of the Elements... and I don’t think even Princess Celestia truly knows what they can do, either. They’re older than Equestria itself, and certainly older than her and her sister,” Twilight said. She anxiously jabbed a hoof at her chest ornamentation, frowning at her distorted reflection in the crystal’s violet facets.

“It says here that the Elements are supposed to harness and convert the chaotic energies from the Trickster back into its harmonic form, and from there, infuse the land with life-sustaining energies again,” Artim said. Upon the detailed chart were six symbols: each the cutie marks of the Elements of Harmony, and above them sat an arrow that pointed towards a runed sword. “The marks of destiny... and the Blade of the First. Only both together are they capable of doing this...”

“Oh, I’ve seen something like this before,” Twilight chimed in. “It’s source replication magic! Usually it’s done with enchantments, which in themselves are already quite rare in Equestria, but this is magnificent!”

Twilight tapped her chin with a hoof, nodding thoughtfully as she began to scrap together an impromptu lesson plan within the depths of her mind. “So... it goes like this. We all know how the Empire’s lands are losing their magic because it’s bleeding off, right? We also know that the Trickster has been the one causing all of this, sapping it away and using it for his own gain. So this plan is essentially a reverse version of how the process work.

“The Trickster’s own raw magic can’t be used to revitalize the lands, as the energy that he’s already taken has been converted to its chaotic equivalent. That would mean that any attempt to bring magic back to the lands without eliminating the Trickster would only fuel him with even more power.”

“So no matter what we could have done, it would have been doomed to begin with,” Kandro said grimly. “Continue.”

“That’s why the Blade was first created, and then maintained across generations, Prince Kandro,” Twilight said. With the ring of steel, Kandro unsheathed the Blade, and held it high before his eyes. “See, the runes on the Blade even match what was inscribed on the paper! The runes are a catalyst for empyrean energies to take form, and from that, the source replication spell comes into play. Normally, the spell requires an extremely pure source in order to function. That’s why the runestones that Elder Jerrovahn gave to the Pillars won’t work for this sort of spell.”

Jerrovahn was intrigued by this. “What if we could amass enough runestones to produce a pure sample?” he asked. “Assuming that we had access to enough of the relics to compare in power to the Blade, that is.”

Twilight shook her head. “It won’t work. The source replication spell requires the purity of the catalyst to be just that: pure. A bunch of runestones won’t work because they’re all imperfect essences of the empyrean, and in result, would produce exactly that: an impure, fragmented magic that would be easily overridden by the Trickster’s unrefined chaotic magic. We need a pure source to act against it, so that’s why the Blade is needed.

“That’s why it’s so ingenious that they’ve managed to put the Blade of the First right where it needs to be! Now we have access an object that is not only an origin for a pure source, but the very first of its kind! The Elements are ancient magical artifacts capable of channeling the ultimate harmonies possible, so it can refine and magnify that result using the blade’s magic and tether to the empyrean!”

“And from there... return the magic that we’ve lost to where it belongs and allow us to be rid of the Trickster, in one fell swoop...!” Artim finished. “Excellent explanation, Twilight, I have a feeling that you’d be well-liked by my colleagues at Lherren.”

Twilight blushed. “Aw, thanks. It wasn’t too hard. I mean, they wrote it all down on the paper there, but I figured it would be easier to digest in verbal form. In any case, we know what this is supposed to do! All that’s left now is to get to Renascence.”

“It will be safe so long as our temples stand,” Jerrovahn replied. With a clap of his hands, the doors to the room opened again, revealing the serene halls as a cool breeze began to drift in. “It would be recommended for all of you to get some rest now. You all deserve it, and you’ll need it when you return to your journey tomorrow.”

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Kandro thanked him. They all rose to leave, but Kandro was the last to follow, taking the time to replace his weapon before heading out. With his adrenaline no longer fueling the vigor that came to him in combat, there sat only a lethargy in its place, coupled with the returning burden of his task that weighed heavily on his mind. Sleep, he figured, would be the reprieve that he’d long sought since the day first began.

“Somethin’ on your mind, sugarcube?” Applejack asked. Kandro, caught off guard by her sudden appearance, jerked his head towards the open balcony door as he stood past the city’s roofs and streets and the valley beyond.

“Well, I’d say...” He stopped and frowned, letting his gaze fall further down to the courtyard that sat in front of the dormitories they now stayed in. The others had long since fallen asleep, the faint sounds of snoring casually drifting through the air, but he couldn’t put his mind to rest. “Thinking, again, as usual.”

“Thinkin’ of your family?” Applejack, minus her trademark hat, trotted up next to him, rearing onto her hind hooves and leaning over the balcony. “Shoot, this place’s far more fancier than anythin’ I’ve ever seen in Manehattan...”

“No, it’s not them this time, though I still am very concerned about them...” He closed his eyes and inhaled the dry desert air, feeling the breeze course through his nightwear robes. “Long ago, long before my father or his father’s fathers had ever taken up the throne, back shortly before the time of the First... they said that these lands used to be green.”

“Green?” Applejack remained silent for a moment, sharing in his disbelief. “It all just looks so... dry now. You mean there used to be trees and grass all over the place?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “From what little we have managed to recover about our past from that period pertaining to land and cultivation, yes. There were trees and grass, ponds and rivers, and much more, decorating the valleys and the hills that make up most of our lands. Despite our task growing ever tougher, it calms me to know that the day that we can see such curiosities again draws near.”

“Maybe. It will be nice to see if the history was true in my lifetime,” he replied. “Perhaps I should ask Yhimit whether or not the Brotherhood ever kept any historical texts from the lost ages. Such secretive groups usually aren’t without their scholars.”

“It’ll be a good step in the right direction, that’s fore sure,” Applejack said, yawning loudly as she began to step back inside. “Gettin’ a bit tired now... thanks for the chat, Prince Kandro, but I think it’s best we both hit the hay. G’night!”

“Good night,” Kandro said, watching her disappear back into the living room and hearing the sound of her bedroom shut before turning back. The moonlight seemed to glow ever more brighter this night, and it was almost as if he could feel Luna’s presence watching over them, even now... though the thought that she actually was watching them certainly wasn’t out of reach, given how they’d spoken to Celestia only hours earlier.

The columns of smoke had dwindled down, thanks in part to the directed efforts of the militia after the demons had retreated. The walls still stood strong, with lighted beacons indicating that every watchtower was still manned, and the sight of torch-bearing guards walking along the lengths of the walls reminded him that the duty to protect the Empire did not only stop at him.

He parted the balcony with a lingering glance, passing through the darkened living room and into his own bedroom, located in the corner just near the balcony. It was only then that after he settled himself into bed that he saw that the Blade of the First, stored within its sheath and tucked in at the corner, was... humming. It was not the sort of ambient hum that one could only pick up over the general nighttime noises; it was literally humming... and glowing, it seemed.

The point at where the hilt met the sheath glimmered with the smallest tints of golden light, tapering off just when he began to rise to examine it. He sat in silence for several minutes, eyeing the weapon for any further curious outbursts, eventually relenting and shaking his head, returning to his slumber. The Blade never acted up again that night.

Unbeknownst to Prince Kandro, however, he was not the last one awake. Two rooms over, a light spilled out from underneath the door, as he was not the only one that was troubled by restless thoughts...

Gates to Renascence

by Material Defender

VIII: Guidance Beyond