Sharing the Night: Chapter 10
☼ ☼ ☼
Celestia sat on her balcony in Canterlot overlooking Ponyville and its surrounding area. More specifically, she was looking over Ponyville and its surrounding area, where there was a great black hole in the sky.
Her resolution was being tested, she felt. It would be so very easy to swoop down and involve herself, but she resisted. Whatever the problem was, she was sure that her sister and her student could handle it, and if not, they would let her know.
Just when she was about to turn around and go back inside, she recognized a familiar curl of smoke in the corner of her eye and the sound of parchment hitting the marble floor in front of her.
Though it was perhaps a little unkind, she didn’t hide the smile that touched her lips as she opened it. Normally, she would have dreaded such a letter, but things were different now. The hope that she might be needed muffled any sense of worry she might have felt for her now-immortal student.
Heartened, she quickly read the letter.
Dear Princess Celestia,
Today I learned that recognizing a problem isn’t the same thing as having a solution. It’s easy to think that you can do something as well or better than someone else, but when you actually find yourself in their shoes, you may find that there’s a lot more to what they do than you think. Finding yourself out of your depths can be a trying experience, but friends are always there to lend a helping hand.
Your loyal subject,
Spike
P.S. I’ve been thinking of sending more of these, would that be okay?
Celestia’s brow knitted in confusion until she reached the signature at the bottom. She stared at that name for a long while, willing herself not to be disappointed. Once she had been marginally successful at this task, she reread it.
Spike. Poor thing. Reading between the lines, she suspected she knew exactly how the young dragon felt. In a way, Celestia had been a mother to him more than she had been to Twilight which only made her feel doubly bad that he wasn't the one she wanted a letter from right now.
Taking one final glance up at the night above the Everfree, Celestia let out a sigh, turned away from it and walked back into her chambers where she kept an ink pot and parchment.
It was a letter, at least, and she would answer it.
☾ ☾ ☾
“Equestria is… leaking,” Twilight whispered, looking straight up at what looked like a black maw in the clear blue sky.
All of the element bearers had been gathered at the Sinkhole of the Royal Pony Sisters. As such, the Royal Observation Cloud had been vacated and was being carted off into storage in deference to the ever-shrinking percentage of the group who lacked wings. This placed them right on the edge of the massive sinkhole which—it bore noting—looked a lot bigger up close.
“Leaking?” Rarity asked, not quite able to believe what she was hearing. “What do you mean it’s leaking?”
“Well,” Rainbow Dash chimed in. “It’s got a hole in it, Rares.”
“Are you sure?” came Fluttershy’s timid question.
“It’s a hole, Fluttershy,” Rainbow Dash deadpanned. “You can see it right there. Its existence is non-negotiable.”
Rarity tsked, waving Rainbow Dash off. “I believe that Fluttershy was asking if we’re sure the—um—planet is leaking.”
“Aye, we are certain,” Luna said, frowning. “Twilight is right. I had thought this might be mine own lingering magic, but ‘tis not. This night… though it bridges the day between the two, it is not our night.”
“Ah’m sorry, princess, but—what?” Applejack asked. “That don’t make a lick of sense. Ya’ll are telling me that Equestria is full of night an’ it’s… comin’ out?”
“That, fair Applejack, is what I would like to know,” Luna said, pacing along the rim of the hole. “Perhaps we ought go down and look.”
“No!” Twilight shouted suddenly, her outburst drawing the attention of everypony present, all eyes locked on her. “No, we’re not doing that,” she said more calmly, still looking up into the sky.
Luna looked at Twilight forlornly and sighed. “My apologies, I misspoke. This is my mess, and I should clean it up myself.”
“Your mess?” Applejack asked.
Luna was about to answer Applejack by way of explaining her role in the formation of the sinkhole when she was interrupted by a surprisingly irate archlibrarian.
“What does that solve, you silly princess?” Twilight asked, reaching over to give the aforementioned princess an affectionate bap on the head—which was a thing she could do now, apparently. Had she grown? “Nopony is going down there until we have some idea what they’ll find! Not even us immortals.”
“‘Silly princess?’” Luna repeated, stunned. “Wait, what about thy fear?”
“Her what?” Rarity asked, sensing a subject she didn’t know about.
“It’s still daylight; I don’t feel anything yet,” Twilight explained, “and besides, it doesn’t matter. I’ve told you before—I’m fine.”
“What?” Applejack asked, blatantly confused. “What’s fine?”
“Twilight’s fine, silly!” Pinkie Pie chimed in.
“Ah got that, Pinkie,” Applejack grumbled. “What Ah mean is—”
“Interesting,” Luna interrupted, ignoring the other element bearers. “So this is not a result of increased activity?”
“Could somepony explain…” Fluttershy began to ask but gave up when it was apparent nopony was listening. “Oh… never mind, I suppose.”
“I don’t think so, no.” Twilight shook her head, thinking. “I think it’s just leaking, like I said. It doesn't seem to be urgent, so we can afford to be careful.”
Luna grumbled noncommittally in response. Careful was not her typical modus operandi.
“Somepony remind me why the rest of us are even here, again?” Rainbow Dash asked nopony in particular.
Twilight perked up upon hearing that voice. “Rainbow! You said this was interfering with Winter Wrap-Up?” She asked. “How?”
“Well, uhh,” Rainbow Dash hesitated, looking up at the sky and scratching the back of her neck with one hoof. “We kinda need the sun to melt the snow over the Everfree and this side of town, and Shy’s having trouble convincing some of the animals to come out of hibernation, too.”
“Hrm,” Twilight said, thinking. “Can you clear the city with the morning sun, do you think?”
“What, like, tomorrow?” Rainbow Dash balked, rising in the air by a good dozen hooves as she did so.
“I’ll write you a note, okay?” Twilight said, rolling her eyes. “Can you do it?”
“Um, yeah, probably,” Rainbow Dash said, glancing over her shoulder to double check. “If the problem doesn’t get any bigger.”
“Okay, you do that then,” Twilight said, nodding. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t.”
“You can do that?” Applejack asked.
“I have no idea,” Twilight declared confidently. “But like Luna said, it’s bridging over to our night, so that’s where it’ll pool, probably. Sorry, Fluttershy, I think you’re just going to have to break out the alarm clocks for the animals again.”
Fluttershy’s response was a predictably timid nod, while Rainbow Dash had regrouped for one more attempt to reason with Twilight.
“But Twilight!” Rainbow Dash pleaded. “You want us to delay Winter Wrap-Up for a whole day? Mayor Mare will be furious!”
Twilight looked Rainbow Dash dead in the eyes.
Rainbow Dash raised her hoof, took a breath to say something and paused.
Twilight wiggled her wings.
“Good point,” Rainbow Dash said.
“What about the snow on the Everfree?” Luna asked. “Is that not a problem?”
“Eh, nah.” Rainbow Dash shrugged, flapping through the air on her back. “We don’t actually have to do it at all, but it helps keep the wild weather coming off the forest from being too bad.”
“This is why ya ain’t the element of hard work, Rainbow,” Applejack said, apparently willfully ignoring the fact that she wasn’t either, technically.
“Hey, we usually do it anyway,” Rainbow Dash said in defense of her work ethic. Landing in front of Applejack, she gestured behind herself. “But I kinda think the giant hole in the sky will make the resulting cold fronts kind of moot. Besides, I didn’t see you hesitating to drop everything when the call came.”
That seemed to get Applejack’s dander up. “Ain’t no time fer hesitation when Ah had to run all th’way here!” she retorted, fixing Rainbow Dash with a glare that would have made Fluttershy proud… if Fluttershy was actually proud of her stare, anyway.
“And since not all of us have a note from the princess,” she added, glancing over at Twilight and Luna, “Ah should be getting back to it if we’re just gonna… um, what is the plan, exactly?”
“Hrm?” Twilight said, turning away from the scene in the sky above them. “Oh! The plan. Right. You see, I’ve been ‘studying’ legendary monsters lately.”
Luna, being the only pony present who actually knew what Twilight was talking about—let alone what she meant by ‘studying’—cocked her head in question. “You think starbeasts can tell us what’s down there?” she asked, doubtful from what she had heard in Twilight’s descriptions.
“Oh no. No no no no no. No,” Twilight said, waving her hooves in front of her to ensure she wasn't misunderstood. “None of the ones I’ve et knew anything about whatever it is that's down there.”
“She said ‘met,’ right?” Applejack whispered to Rarity.
“I think so…” Rarity answered, attempting to sound reassuring, though clearly uncertain.
“If not them, then what?” Luna asked.
Twilight grinned. “You and I are going to knock on some mountains and see if we can’t wake ourselves an ancient dragon who wants to talk.”
With that, the conversation ground to a sudden, screeching halt. Everypony stared at Twilight, and in the silence, the wind blowing over the Sinkhole of the Royal Pony Sisters let out an eerie howl.
“Well, um, good,” Applejack said, breaking the tension of the moment. “You gals have fun with that. If ya need me, Ah’ll be… on mah farm… shoveling snow. ‘Cause snow, y’see, it needs shoveling. And I got a shovel. A snow shovel. For snow.”
“Applejack, dear, do shut up,” Rarity said. “You’re rambling.”
“Yup… Snow.”
☾ ☾ ☾
Luna was kind enough to teleport Twilight’s friends out of the Everfree so that they could get back to wrapping up winter as quickly as possible. She hadn’t asked if Twilight had wanted to do it, and Twilight hadn’t offered.
“I have never seen you take charge like that,” Luna said. Truth be told, it was like seeing an entirely different mare—one she’d read about but almost forgotten.
Twilight laughed at that. “Threats to Equestria I can handle.”
“I can almost believe you mean that,” Luna said, not caring to hide the suspicious nature of her statement.
Twilight frowned. “I do mean it.”
“Truly?” Luna asked. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said anything, but it was too late now. “You got rid of your friends awfully fast for ‘business as usual.’”
“They have their jobs, and we have ours,” Twilight said reticently. “Where we’re going, they can’t follow.”
It was a reasonable explanation, but Luna wasn’t sure. Twilight was a poor liar, so it wasn’t that. Still, it seemed out of character. So far as Luna knew, Twilight hadn’t spent very much time with her friends lately, and even less of it had been as a group. She should have been eager to have them around.
Luna shook her head with a huff. Perhaps Twilight was right. Perhaps she did worry too much over her sanity. “Very well. Shall we see what’s at the bottom of this hole of mine, then?”
Twilight was unamused. “Libraries. We’re going to libraries, Luna,” she repeated. “I want to visit as many as possible and get them working on finding us a dragon. They could use a visit from their archlibrarian anyway.”
“Twilight, there is no earthly reason for me not to go down there and have a look first,” Luna insisted, not wanting to waste any time with research if the problem could be solved here and now. “I understand that it’s different for you, but I never leave the sky. The most I could lose is my regalia.”
“We don’t know that,” Twilight retorted, pouting defiantly.
Luna rolled her eyes. “Yes, we do,” she stated.
“We’re not that different, Luna,” Twilight said, refusing to drop the subject. “From each other or from regular ponies. You’re right—we can’t die—but as long as our bodies live, we’re at their mercy. We sleep, we dream, we can fall unconscious and we can be kept that way against our will. You could go into that hole and never come out, and then where would I be?”
Luna’s ears flattened against her head. “True,” she admitted, “but…”
“It’s just best that we both go down together,” Twilight said with a certain finality. “And since I am vulnerable, and since we do have time, I want to know what I’m getting into.”
“I don’t like it,” Luna said grumpily. “Whatever is down there may be dangerous to me,” she admitted with much reluctance, “but we are fairly certain that it wishes to eat you.”
“Probably,” Twilight said with a smile, “but I’ve got some experience dealing with things that want to eat me.”
Luna gave Twilight a look of worry, unable to see a way out of this and hoping for a bout of sudden empathy.
“I’m going,” Twilight reiterated.
Luna sighed, admitting her defeat. “Then perhaps it is about time you had some regalia of your own,” she suggested.
Twilight considered that. “I guess we can fit in a trip with the royal armorsmith,” she said, motioning with her hoof in a way that told Luna she was shifting a few items around in her mental checklist. “What will that help, though? All I know about yours is…” Twilight stopped a moment to think. “Yeah, basically nothing except for the fact that my face is the softer of the two.”
Luna’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “A trip to the royal armorsmith will not be necessary.”
“Oh please don’t tell me you already had it made, and you were just waiting for a chance to say that,” Twilight said, rolling her eyes.
“What?” Luna asked. “No, of course not. Who would do such a thing? ‘Twould be silly.”
“Oh, good,” Twilight said, letting out a breath of relief. She had gotten quite enough of that from Rarity. “If not the royal armorsmith, do I need to book time with the department of enchantments, then? I've heard they keep a long waiting list.”
Luna shook her head.
“Well, it’s not just going to conjure itself out of thin air,” Twilight said, rolling her eyes.
Luna’s smile only widened into a grin.
“That’s exactly what’s going to happen, isn’t it?” Twilight said in monotone.
“Well, not precisely,” Luna answered with exacting vagueness.
Twilight groaned. “Well, out with it.”
“This,” Luna said, tapping a hoof on her peytral, “and this,” she continued, moving her hoof to her barrel, “are the same thing.”
“Oh, well that explains everything,” Twilight said sarcastically.
“Does it not? You will manifest your regalia as you do your body. It is denser and will prove a better source of power. No doubt you have been disappointed in your purely mortal capabilities since your ascension; this will fix—”
“Not really, no,” Twilight interrupted.
Luna blinked. “Did you not expect to be like unto a god when you became an alicorn?”
“Hrm,” Twilight said, tapping a hoof on her chin while she thought. “Yeah, that’s pretty much what I got.”
“You what?” Luna asked.
“I mean, I’m a bunch of stars,” Twilight explained. “Stars make magic. I’ve got plenty.”
“Oh,” Luna said, her ears drooping. “Right. Thy celestial bodies are here on Equestria within you—that is the whole problem.”
“So, there’s no point, then?” Twilight asked, sensing Luna’s disappointment.
“Nay, your body is still—as you say—the softer of the two,” Luna offered. “If a part of you exists physically as something resistant to being stepped on by an Ursa, then your celestial essence should be that much safer.”
“Oh!” Twilight exclaimed, brightening up considerably. “That actually sounds useful. Have you ever tried making your whole body like that? Or a suit of armor?”
“In times of war, yes.” Luna said, her expression darkening as less pleasant memories surfaced. “Never make of thyself a weapon, however.”
“Why not?” Twilight asked with an innocence that Luna envied.
Luna’s hoof found its way to Twilight’s shoulders. “Having your light inside of a pony when theirs leaves is something I hope you never have to experience, Twilight.”
“O-oh,” Twilight stuttered. “I’ll, um, remember that.”
☾ ☾ ☾
Sitting in front of Twilight was a brilliant white crown that shone brighter and clearer in the ruddy light of sunset than the sun itself did. Soon it would be dusk, when Twilight had planned to begin her librararchy tour.
Plans, however, like many other things, rarely survived contact with alicorns.
“This is useless!” Twilight shouted as she kicked the shining shape in front of her, dashing the brilliant crown into the wind like so much sand. “It won’t bond!”
“Twilight, please calm down,” Luna pleaded.
Twilight sighed, slumping down on the messy, star-studded landscape. Usually, stardust would find its way back to the night pretty quickly, but things were anything but usual at the rim of the Sinkhole of the Royal Pony Sisters. “Sorry, Luna. I just… I really thought this would help.”
“I know,” Luna said, a pang of guilt in her chest for having offered Twilight a false hope. She searched her mind for another suggestion. “Did you try—”
“Yes!” Twilight barked in frustration, making Luna back off out of sheer startlement. “Yes, I did. I tried everything you said—copied everything you did—it’s just not working. I should have known that nothing to do with this would work out. Not a single thing has gone right since that day!”
Luna’s jaw dropped the tiniest bit. “Is that how you really feel?”
Twilight turned on Luna, face contorted in anger, looked her in the eye and… Luna saw the exact moment when it all collapsed in on her. “No,” she said, wilting visibly. “No, of course not.”
Luna let out a breath she hadn’t realized had caught in her throat. The idea had filled her with a surprising dread. She chided herself for getting caught up in her own relief, though, as she watched Twilight sag. She wasted no time in catching Twilight the moment her legs gave out.
“I’m such a mess,” Twilight said, making no effort to stand on her own. “And a hypocrite. I really do want this, Luna, I do, it’s just… It's hard.”
“I know, Twilight,” Luna said, setting Twilight on the ground and sitting next to her. “Do you recall what you said yesterday about hurting ourselves when we fail?”
“I’m doing it, huh?” Twilight said, looking up at Luna from where she lay.
“Remarkably and with great aplomb,” Luna agreed.
Twilight was not amused.
“Well, not aplomb, obviously,” Luna said, correcting herself.
“This is the opposite of aplomb,” Twilight groaned. “This is the opposite of me.”
“We all wish we were better mares in times like these,” Luna said, knowing what it was like to be disappointed at her own self-control.
“No, I am better,” Twilight insisted with a growing frustration. “I used to be, anyway. I stress out and get frustrated, sure, it happens, but I don’t lash out and break things.”
“Breaking things can be very cathartic,” Luna laughed, trying to lighten the mood.
Twilight was taken aback. “Are you… mocking me?” she asked, incredulous.
“Just appreciating the irony,” Luna said, dismissing the accusation. “Before coming here to Ponyville, I languished, unable to bring myself to care about much of anything. There were times when I wished for nothing more than to have it all back—exactly what you describe. Anger, hate, every nerve raw with the fervor of youth. I was a fool, I think.”
If Luna thought that her confession would make Twilight feel better, she was sorely mistaken. Twilight visibly paled at the thought. “You aren’t serious.”
“I spent a long time nursing those feelings, Twilight. So long that they were part of how I saw myself,” Luna explained. “Yes, I admit it; I missed them when they were gone.”
“No, don’t you get it?” Twilight said, her hackles rising. “What if it’s not irony? What if it’s not a coincidence? Everything that’s happened seems to suggest that the stars are… bad for me.
“No matter how grounded I think I am, no matter how calm and collected, it all falls apart—just like these stars. I’m made of sand, and I don’t know when the next wave will come. Every time it’s come up before, there’s just been no way to know… but if I’ve got what you lost… well, that’s it, then, isn’t it? There’s no denying it.”
Luna’s smile died.
“You think so too,” Twilight observed with a contrary sort of pride.
“Dear me, I am a fool,” Luna said, one hoof on her face. “I faulted the elements of harmony.”
It all made perfect sense. Luna’s melancholy and Twilight’s rising instability. It was just… so obvious. They had talked about what an existence like Twilight’s might do to a pony in theory, but in light of Luna’s experience, the other half slid neatly into place. It was like Twilight had said; there was no denying it. The answer was right there staring them in the face.
“It doesn’t change anything, though,” Twilight bemoaned, sinking back into depression. “There’s nothing I can do about it. I’m doomed to this… emotional instability for the rest of my immortal life.”
Luna wasn't so sure. Anger had never been the source of her problems. She had reveled in it, been driven by it. Fire without fault, furor without fury. An image formed in her mind, and she gave it voice without hesitation. “…Embrace it,” she said, her smile returning.
“What?” Twilight shouted. She turned to face Luna, her features twisted in shock, but Luna would not be quelled.
“You heard me. Embrace it,” Luna said simply. “You have mastered your fear; master your anger. Cleanse it, condense it, purify it until there is only you.”
Twilight’s eyes widened. “You’re crazy.”
Luna’s smile opened into an outright grin. “If you cannot rest stable, then you must dance.”
“You are crazy,” Twilight said. “Have you ever seen me dance?”
✶ ✶ ✶
The day reached its conclusion long before Twilight had one about Luna's… unique suggestion.
It was madness. Simple, utter madness.
The star-littered landscape twinkled under Twilight’s hooves as she filled the sky with whorls of light, her work similarly haphazard.
She was getting better at it. No longer did the whole sky splash into place all at once as it had at first. Instead, she set individual streams of stars on paths that would bring them flowing in from the umbra. With only a nudge here and there, the sky would continue to paint itself in stars as the twilight of dusk deepened into night.
Tonight, though, it was a wild, churning night.
As she finished, the familiar sensation of fear brushed over her coat. Far from… well, fearing it, the feeling actually seemed to energize her as she breathed it in, not unlike the brisk winter nights she'd come to enjoy.
The feeling was something she was used to now. It was ever-present, demanding her attention, but could it truly be called fear any more?
She did not balk from it; she did not cower, nor was her laughter stifled or her contentment broken when such moods struck her. Certainly, it was distracting, but the same could be said of Pinkie Pie, and Twilight did not fear Pinkie Pie.
It was as Luna had said; she had mastered her visceral fears—in fact, one of the highlights of her week had started with being thrown off the palace. Did she even fear death?
Okay, that was silly. Yes, she did fear death. She feared for her immortal existence possibly more than she had for her mortal one, even, now that she had so much more to lose. The idea of losing countless lifetimes before she'd barely had a chance to start them shook her to the bone in a way that all the starbeasts in the world could not.
There was fearing failure, though, and there was fearing the experience of failure. There was a distinction to be had between the two. She had desires—wants and goals that made her who she was. To not fear failure—to not fear loss of what was important to her—it wasn’t equinely possible.
Fear of the danger, though? Fear of the actual experience of dying, such as it was? She’d never had much of it to begin with, but it was chilling to think that it might be gone—or if not gone, rendered meaningless like a word spoken too many times.
Twilight opened her eyes and looked down into the Sinkhole of the Royal Pony Sisters. Luna had already left, and she was alone in the lavender light of dusk.
Could the same principle be applied to anger? Could anger be measured and categorized, portioned and filtered, repeated ad infinitum until it ceased to be anger?
She had no reason to think otherwise.
✶ ✶ ✶
Twilight belatedly poured herself down into the Manehattan library, catching the trail end of a Royal Canterlot Echo.
“Ah, there you are, Twilight,” Luna said, turning to look at her with a question in her eyes.
“Sorry, I got caught… thinking," Twilight responded vaguely. "What were you yelling about?”
“It seems that your librararchy is closed for the night,” Luna observed. Indeed, the lights were out, and the building was silent as a graveyard.
“That’s odd,” Twilight remarked. “It’s only dusk. All institutions of the librararchy are supposed to be open until midnight at minimum, and anything this size or with a restricted section is supposed to have at least one permanent guard now.”
“There is a single light in an office on the other side of the building,” Luna observed. “I believe we ought to have a chat with whoever it is that dares ignore a royal decree.”
Twilight frowned, confirming via her starlight that indeed, there was exactly one dimly lit room to be counted across the entire institution. As the princesses approached it, the creaking of a chair from inside confirmed that it was, indeed, occupied.
Twilight had just turned the handle on the door when Luna kicked it in. The force of the door slamming against the wall shook the floor, but the aged stallion sitting at the desk was made of sterner stuff.
“Oy!” The old stallion exclaimed as he pushed his heavy glasses up the bridge of his nose to get a look at the ponies standing in the door. “What’s all this then?”
"Behold, bibliothec, thy rulers hath arrived,” Luna announced.
“P-p-princesses!” the old stallion stuttered as he scrambled to his hooves.
“We demand to know why thy doors are closed and thy lights unlit at this early hour!” Luna shouted.
The librarian looked stricken, but managed to muster his courage or perhaps his crotchetiness. “I've worked here fer sixty years, your majesty. Library closes at five. Always has, always will.”
“Nay, fine stallion,” Luna said, pacing as she lectured. Thy establishment must remain open until the witching hour—so it has been decreed!”
“You should have received an information packet several days ago detailing the change,” Twilight stepped in to explain somewhat more helpfully.
“Hrm,” the librarian said, scratching his chin. He shook his head. “Nope, can’t say as I did.”
“It would have been a manilla envelope with a royal seal on it,” Twilight added.
“Nope, I did’nae receive any such thing,” the librarian said. “Only parcel larger’n a letter that came through here in a week was some rubbish scam. One o’ those old’uns about how some Equestrian princess needs me to help her form her own country. I tell ya, they’re getting right creative with ‘em these days. Gave me a good laugh, it did,” he said, chuckling.
Twilight and Luna looked at each other then back at the librarian. Neither princess was laughing.
“Eh, I suppose they don’t send those t’actual Equestrian princesses,” he said dismissively then frowned as his words came back to him. Adjusting his glasses, he squinted at Twilight then gulped in worry. “Is tha’a star on yer butt?”
Twilight raised one eyebrow as if to say ‘what do you think?’
“Oh dear,” the old stallion remarked. He slowly stepped one step back, then two and finally dashed over to a round bin. Without much searching at all, he fished out a roughed up envelope that had rumpled papers sticking out of it like a salad of legalese and paperclips—a salad topped with a small circle of purple wax like a cherry with a six-pointed star imprinted on it and a golden crown in the center. “Oh dear oh dear.”
The old stallion craned his neck around to look at the two princesses behind him. They locked eyes for a moment, his full of fear, theirs beginning to show exasperation. Quickly, he averted his eyes, glancing about the room.
Twilight was about to say something when the stallion’s horn began to glow. There was a bright flash, a thump and the stallion seemed to disappear.
Twilight stared blankly. The desk trembled.
✶ ✶ ✶
Five minutes later, the desk was still trembling.
“I am not going to banish you to the moon, sir, and neither does the Librararchy operate any dungeons,” Twilight found herself explaining, no end in sight. “There most certainly are not any dungeons on the moon.”
The trembling desk did not respond.
“There aren’t any dungeons on the moon, are there?” Twilight whispered to the alicorn next to her.
“No, there are not,” Luna answered, rolling her eyes.
“See?" Twilight said. "No dungeons on the moon. Please come out from under the desk.”
☾ ☾ ☾
Twilight shut the office door behind her with a soft click of failure. “Honestly,” she said, letting out an annoyed sigh. “Some ponies. Where do they get these ideas?"
“Where indeed?” Luna asked wryly. There was a certain irony in Twilight of all ponies asking that question.
“Hey now, I had legitimate concerns,” Twilight insisted. “With case-studies to back them up.”
“Oh really?” Luna said.
“Yes, well… she has a history of banishing her sister to the moon, you know,” Twilight said in her defense.
Luna shook her head. “I forced her hoof,” she said.
Twilight frowned. “Sure, but there must have been—”
“Do not try to dismiss my crimes, Twilight,” Luna cut her off. “It is important that I learned from my mistakes. Celestia did the right thing.”
“I suppose,” Twilight said, grumbling, and they walked on.
A short time later, the two of them stepped out into the massive central area of the library, centuries of stored knowledge at their hooves. Centuries weren’t good enough for their purposeses, though. To even have a chance of finding what they wanted, they’d have to go back millennia.
“Can you tell me what it was like?” Twilight asked, a curious lilt to her voice.
“What what was like?” Luna asked, uncertain if a new subject was being broached.
“Being Nightmare Moon,” Twilight clarified. “Controlling… yourself. It wouldn’t be a bad thing for me to learn from your mistakes too.”
Luna looked away, shame making her reticent. “Perhaps Celestia—”
“No, don’t teach me,” Twilight said, interrupting her. “Just talk to me.”
She hesitated, but not for long. Twilight had reason, and Luna couldn't think of any real reason to deny the request, other than her own reluctance. If Twilight wanted her to talk about it, well, Luna owed her that much, at least.
So that was exactly what she did.
✶ ✶ ✶
Luna talked long into the night, and Twilight listened. It quickly became clear that searching the library without help from the library staff was not tenable, but Twilight found herself thinking that if it took them all night… that would be just fine.
Equestria may have been leaking—which was important and all—but Twilight had found a different subject to study. A subject which, for once in her life, had not been written about in books.
It could have been argued, of course, that Twilight’s sanity was, perhaps, even more important than the issue of the leaking planet, but as it turned out, Luna’s experiences were actually quite useless to her anyway, so the point was rather moot.
The two of them were very different ponies, after all, and the way Luna spoke, her idea of control sounded more like herding cats than anything Twilight could understand. Far from being disappointed, though, she found herself fascinated—enthralled, even.
Oddly enough, it was a bit of a wake-up call for Twilight. Luna had always been quite open about herself as she was, but it wasn’t until Twilight heard her talk about how she had been before that she really began to understand. Only then did she realize how much had been missing from the Lunar princess she thought she’d come to know.
They were hard memories for Luna, and Twilight should have felt guilty about pressing her about them, but as they walked through the moonlit library and she listened to Luna talk about all the petty hates that she had held onto and how she had used them to drive herself further towards her goals, Twilight was taken by a certain kind of… greed.
It was different than her usual hunger for knowledge. Twilight had imagined what it would be like to hear the royal sisters talk about the history of Equestria—and there was some of that—but she wouldn’t have found it half as interesting coming from Celestia.
To be fair, the history itself would have been equally as interesting coming from Celestia, but whether Luna talked about dragons, griffons, ponies or even her sister, the story was hers. She colored it twice—first in the living and again in the telling—and in the quiet of the darkened library, that color was all the light which Twilight needed.
Eventually, the two alicorns’ lack of progress grew undeniable, and Twilight feared the night’s mood would be broken, but Luna herself had gotten lost enough in it that she needn't have worried.
Without breaking stride, Luna showed Twilight how to move objects through the black depths of magic between her stars. Twilight recognized it as the method by which Nightmare Moon—that is, Luna, she corrected herself—had once used to take Twilight away from her friends. This night, though, its use would instead keep her where she wanted to be.
Though Twilight regretted the loss of privacy necessitated by the influx of Librararchy staff, it really was for the better in the end. Freed from the pretence of looking at books themselves, they made better progress—both in their own quiet talk and in the search that had originally been the purpose of their visit.
Once they were finished in Manehattan, they branched out to other Librararchy institutions. Most of these were found to be properly staffed and required only one pony left behind to leave detailed instructions. Those that weren’t were brought in line quickly by the presence of the two alicorns of the night, who weren’t above waking the local mayor or governor to find out who was shirking their duties.
Luna—having no authority in the librararchy—naturally spent the entire night at Twilight’s side, ostensibly passing on experiences which would help Twilight control her anger, though neither of them could say when that particular subject had last come up. Even if they had remained on topic, however, there was one fundamental problem with the concept that became subtly clearer as the night stretched on.
Apart from the differences in their personalities, Twilight was limited by the simple fact that, unlike the fear which she had already conquered and continued to ignore, her anger was less constant. Indeed, it didn’t show up at all for the rest of the night, as Twilight was quite otherwise occupied.
In fact, sometime in the vague hours between night and morning, she came to wonder if perhaps there were other emotions she no longer had control of; emotions she was even less familiar with than anger.
If so, that too, was just fine.
☼ ☼ ☼
Celestia had been awoken by a guard banging at her chamber door, yelling about Canterlot being invaded in the night. A short walk later, it was three in the morning, and she was not amused.
“Captain Star Flail,” she said, triggering a salute from her captain of the guard beside her. “What am I looking at?”
What Celestia was looking at was Twilight Sparkle, one of her pegasus heralds and a pair of unicorn guards standing calmly in the Canterlot Archives, perusing the books.
“I’m sorry, your majesty,” Captain Star Flail responded, his statement broken by a pained grunt. “Our forces were completely overwhelmed by the Libraropoleans.”
“Libraropoleans?” Celestia said, repeating the unfamiliar word. “As in, of… Libraropolis? What was wrong with Libraritopia?” she asked, confused. She had seen the paperwork herself, after all.
The answer came not from Star Flail but Luna, who had appeared beside her and the captain at some point. “Apparently the term ‘Utopia’ comes from a book wherin it describes the eponymous nation practicing, among other things, slavery.”
Celestia gave a start at the sudden appearance of her sister. “Nopony remembers that!” she insisted, gesturing in vexation with one hoof. “Wouldn’t a Libraropolis be a single city?”
“Due to the aggregate nature of her nation,” Luna stated, affecting an overly genteel manner which was most unlike her, “she felt a name symbolizing unity was appropriate. There is precedence, as Pegasopolis’ own borders were undefined.”
Celestia opened her mouth to say something, but she was distracted by a stray thought. She tried to catch it but fumbled. There was something wrong with this conversation, something wrong with—
“You’re smiling, Luna,” Celestia stated.
“Am I?” Luna asked cheekily. “I must be happy.”
A thousand questions rushed through Celestia’s head, none of which she was able to catch. She simply stared at her sister for a moment, who was herself watching Twilight give instructions to the herald that was with her.
Unable to fully process the situation, she fell back to the situation. “Do I have to ask what this is about an invasion?” she asked lamely.
“Ah. You see, apparently there is a law barring extranational officials from the archives. I had attempted to get it repealed, but we were in something of a hurry, and invasion seemed more expedient,” Luna explained. Celestia wasn’t sure, but she thought that her sister sounded… proud? “Fear not, dear sister—the occupation is a peaceful one, and the coup d'état was accomplished with minimal casualties.”
Celestia gulped in worry. “Minimal casualties?” she asked, not looking forward to the pile of work that would be waiting for her in the morning… presuming she even made it back to bed.
“Lieutenant Whip Flail, the captain’s son, twisted his ankle while fleeing the field of battle,” Luna reported dourly. “His twin brother, Iron Flail, was not so lucky.”
“Will he live?” Celestia asked. She dreaded writing letters of condolence in the best of times. To have to explain to someone that two princesses of Equestria had—
“He banged a shin,” Luna stated.
Celestia gazed blankly ahead. Coincidentally, her field of view included a handsome-looking stallion of the royal guard with his hooves wrapped around one leg in the fetal position, rocking back and forth in apparent pain. Nearby, a velvet-furnished ottoman appeared to have been knocked over.
“Luna,” Celestia prompted, a hoof pressing against her forehead.
“Yes, sister?” Luna responded.
Celestia rubbed her bleary eyes as she phrased her question. “Were there any injuries—and I’m using the term as loosely as possible—that weren’t self-inflicted?” she asked.
Luna stopped to think for a moment. “I believe one of the privates received a paper cut in relation to being on the receiving end of a book thrown by herald number three,” she offered.
“Herald number three?” Celestia asked somewhat predictably. She had the distinct impression her sister was playing with her, but she just wasn’t up to the challenge right now. “They have names, you know. It is not a difficult concept. All ponies have names.”
“That has yet to be proven,” Luna said.
Celestia rolled her eyes. “I’m sure that Twilight—”
“She is the one who numbered them while we were searching the Vanhoover public library,” Luna interrupted, unable to suppress a grin. Coincidentally, the mare in question choose that moment to speak up.
“Hey, Luna!” Twilight shouted from inside the archives. “Come look at—oh.”
Celestia’s heart sank the tiniest bit at Twilight’s reaction to seeing her, but she steeled herself. It was… fine.
“Hi, Princess,” Twilight said, having somehow crossed the distance between them in the blink of an eye, causing Celestia to stumble back while Twilight’s eyes flitted back and forth while she straightened her mane with a hoof.
“Celestia. Princess Celestia,” Twilight corrected then recorrected the appellation she’d used. “Did we ever do the ‘don’t call me princess, princess’ thing? I can’t remember.”
“You have only been a princess for a day, Twilight,” Luna pointed out.
“Right, right…” Twilight said, nodding.
Celestia looked Twilight over with motherly concern. “Is everything alright, Twilight?”
“You will have to excuse Twilight,” Luna said, placing a hoof on Celestia’s shoulder. “She is just under the impression that Equestria wishes to eat her. It makes her a little excitable.”
“I’m fine, and we’ve pretty much ruled out Equestria-Equestria,” Twilight clarified, waving a hoof dismissively. “It’s got to be this antumbra inside Equestria or something inside it. Inside the antumbra inside Equestria, I mean. With any luck, this ‘Emberstoke the Eternal’ will know for sure.”
“‘Emberstoke the Eternal?’” Luna repeated, raising one eyebrow. “Did we move on from dragons to demons of Tartarus?”
“I don’t think so,” Twilight said, frowning only briefly before her smile returned. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”
“I still say we should have just gone down and gotten it over with,” Luna said with a huff.
“It is looking like a worst-case scenario,” Twilight said with a sigh. “But if there are stars down there and as many as I think there are, it might not be some mindless beast. Besides, we’re fine for now. Anything that comes up, I can assimilate smoothly, thanks to the bottleneck.“
Luna blinked. “Is that what you’re doing with the night that’s leaking? I was wondering why I didn’t feel anything.”
“Oh, yeah. I told Rainbow Dash I’d take care of it, and it turned out to be easier than I thought. Honestly, we could even play a waiting game if we knew for sure—”
“Twilight,” Celestia interrupted. She didn’t know if it was just being up at three in the morning, but she was feeling well and truly lost. “Twilight, can I expect to have my archives back in the morning?”
Twilight’s eyes darted over to Celestia looking to all the world as if she had completely forgotten the solar princess was there. “You mean… give them back?” she asked, giving the princess of the sun a pouty look. “Do I have to?”
“Now, Twilight,” Celestia said, readying her admonishing tone, when a peculiar thought struck her sleep-addled mind. “I… I suppose not,” she found herself saying.
“Yes!” Twilight shouted, wrapping her arms around Luna. “Did you hear that, Luna? She said yes!”
“I heard, Twilight,” Luna said in an amused sort of tone, slightly strangled by the alicorn who was attempting to both jump around and hug her at the same time.
Had she just done that, Celestia asked herself.
The sound of Twilight’s exuberance slowly faded behind Celestia, eventually melting into a melancholy silence by the time she found her way back to chambers. The door shut behind her with a quiet click, then rattled as the solar princess collapsed against it.
Had she really just done that?
Had she really just given away the Canterlot archives… not for what Twilight could do with the knowledge therin, or even to make her happy, but as bait to lure her back to Canterlot once in a while?
Yes. Yes, she had.
Celestia let out a dreary, heartfelt sigh as her head fell back against the door.
She was tired.
☾ ☾ ☾
“Did Celestia leave?” Twilight asked, looking around.
“You did invade Canterlot at three in the morning, Twilight,” Luna reminded her.
“Oh, I guess I did,” Twilight reflected. “I was going to ask her if she knew anything about this ‘Emberstoke the Eternal.’”
“Would it stop you?” Luna asked.
“Well, no,” Twilight admitted.
“Then I shall put it with the rest,” Luna said, taking the book. “I think we shall try this one last, though.”
“Why?” Twilight asked. “Shouldn't we start with it? It’s our most promising lead yet.”
“Dragons in their fourth life cycle should be afforded the same respect as one of us, Twilight, for they are as impossible to kill and nearly as dangerous,” Luna explained. “Fortunately, they are gluttons and lazier than Tia after she has polished off a cake.”
“Oh,” Twilight said with a frown.
“All I am saying is if we have to wake a dragon up, I’d rather start with one named—” she quickly commandeered a clipboard that one of Twilight’s heralds was carrying, “—Whiskers Whitetail.”
✶ ✶ ✶
Whiskers Whitetail was, sadly, not up for a chat that fine night, which was probably for the best, as the ponies of Ponyville were unlikely to have taken it well if Whitetail Woods had uprooted itself in order to have tea with their new princesses.
Alas, this pattern of circumstance repeated itself on into the early hours of the morning. With the help of Twilight’s librarocracy working for them, Twilight and Luna were able to jaunt across the world rapidly, checking each lead and as thoroughly as they were comfortable—which was not very thoroughly at all, in some cases.
Aside from the many pieces of land that simply refused to wake up, there were also a great number which Twilight and Luna arrived at only to discover ponies living on top of them. These they had debated about at length and finally decided that no, it probably wouldn’t have been productive to knock on somepony’s door and say, ‘Hey, you’re living on a dragon, just thought you’d like to know. No, anywhere else you move is probably a dragon too—would you be interested in signing up for homeowner’s insurance?’
Between dragons which were stubborn and dragons which were populated, Twilight’s list of possible candidates had dwindled alarmingly quickly. It hardly seemed like any time at all had passed before there was only one name left.
Emberstoke the Eternal.
Twilight stared at the name. The word ‘active’ was scribbled next to it in parenthesis, followed with a question mark.
Frustrated, she chucked the list in the rubbish.
Having run out of night, she and Luna had returned to their Ponyville palace tower. Emberstoke the Eternal would have to wait a day.
“Am I doing something wrong?” she asked in dismay.
“The law only says that we that must warn the local weather patrol about earthquakes ahead of time,” Luna observed. “It does not specify that we do so during business hours or how much ahead of time.”
Twilight couldn’t help but smile at that in spite of herself. Showing up on Rainbow Dash’s cloudy doorstep at four in the morning may not have been very nice, considering the early morning favor the weather captain would be doing for Twilight, but hey, the law was the law, and Twilight was very serious about upholding Equestria’s laws.
Twilight stopped. That… probably shouldn’t have been sarcasm, she reflected. Princess Celestia’s faithful student, Twilight Sparkle, would never flaunt the Equestrian judicial system.
“I just never thought it would be so difficult to wake up slumbering evil,” she told Luna. “The history books make it seem easy, you know? Ahuizotl collects the five macguffins, and Evil King Sombra awakes. Cerberus wanders off, and the maw of Tartarus opens. The stars align by chance, and Nightmare Moon is released!”
“Tia thinks you did that,” Luna mentioned off-hoof from where she lay on the bed.
Twilight, meanwhile, was busying herself with the wardrobe which she had uncovered during her search for her Winter Wrap-Up vest. “Did what?” she asked.
“Used the stars to release me,” Luna clarified.
“Oh,” Twilight said, taking a moment to process what Luna had said. “Huh.”
“Thanks,” Luna offered with a smirk.
Twilight wasn't quite sure how to feel about that. “You’re, um, welcome, I guess.”
“Quite,” Luna responded with a tip of her horn.
“Come to think of it, how do the pits of Tartarus work with the whole world-is-made-of-dragons thing, anyway?” Twilight asked, working her way backwards in the list of evils she’d mentioned as she meanwhile regarded a favored old hairbrush that was now useless to her.
“The dragon Tartarus was an all-consuming terror who sought to contain the worst creatures of the world by devouring them en masse,” Luna said. “He was reviled by every race as a cannibal, a monster and a rookery of evil.”
“So, what,” Twilight said, “the so-called ‘demons’ of Tartarus are just ancient dragons and monsters trapped in the gullet of a sleeping dragon for all eternity?”
“If only,” Luna said with a snort. “Those he consumed were all but destroyed, but ‘all but’ is not good enough when it comes to such things. The creatures that escaped his rocky flesh were new things—greater, more terrible and in different number than what Tartarus consumed. The more benign survive on to this day as manticores, chimerae and the like. Even Cerberus himself is said to have been borne of Tartarus, though I know not what possesses him to stand guard over his progenitor.
“By the time Tartarus went on to his final slumber, his hunger had become so great that he was said to have been the largest dragon that had ever lived. By my time, he was but a legend to teach young dragons the dangers of overindulgence… or the dangers of justice. I’m not sure which.”
“That or ‘chew your food,’ I suppose,” Twilight joked, still sorting through some of her old things. After a period of silence punctuated irregularly by the thumping of hair care products landing in the rubbish, something that had been said earlier came back to her.
“Wait, I have experience unleashing evil, and I still can’t do it?” Twilight asked, incredulous.
Luna rolled her eyes. “Oh shush and come to bed already—evil needs its sleep.”
✶ ✶ ✶
Evil, it turned out, wasn’t the only one that needed its sleep. Twilight awoke late into the afternoon, curled up contentedly on top of a warm spot in the empty bed.
Rather than get up, she gave in to the urge to just lay there awhile. She felt… spent, not physically, just mentally exhausted. Element of friendship aside, Twilight was not a social pony; she wasn’t used to being with somepony at all hours of the day. Last night had been long and exciting, and all the things that Luna had shared with her had yet to settle in her mind.
It wasn’t as if she was needed for anything right now, she reasoned. She trusted that Rainbow Dash had made good on her promise to clear the rest of the snow cover over Ponyville using the morning sun, though it probably would have gone over smoother if Twilight had actually remembered to write that note to the mayor like she'd promised. What was done was done, though, and she was sure her friend wouldn’t begrudge her the need for a little nap.
It was still called a nap when you didn’t get up in the first place, right?
Well, regardless… Luna, Twilight was sure, was off doing whatever it was Lunas do during the day, and she would handle anything that came up. She did feel a little guilty, and she’d be taking up some of those responsibilities very soon, just… not today.
She needed today.
Even if she had gotten up, she probably would have just spent the whole afternoon telling ponies to mind their own business while she sat in the library doing clop-all about the hole in the sky. Realistically speaking, there wasn’t actually anything much she could do. She wouldn’t be dropping stars on any dragons until she had stars in the sky for dropping, and dragons weren't the type you could wake with a warm nuzzle.
That didn’t stop her from practicing with Luna’s pillow, though.
Theoretically, she might have been able to pull a few of her larger stars through the hole in the day, but given that the hole was the problem she was trying to fix, it was probably better not to push her luck.
Come to think of it, how were they going to fix it?
That sounded like an important thought, yet it failed to find any traction in her hazy mind all the same. Whatever it was, she’d figure it out later. For now, she had a fluffy surrogate princess that needed snuggling.
✶ ✶ ✶
“Wow,” Twilight said, holding her foreleg in front of her face to protect it from the red glow that was coming from more than just the sun directly beyond the horizon.
“Indeed,” Luna responded dourly. “It is most impressive.”
“So when it said ‘active,’” Twilight mentioned, remembering her list. “It meant…"
“Volcanically, it would seem,” Luna finished somewhat needlessly.
“I’m going to wake this up?” Twilight asked. No, a warm nuzzling would certainly not be especially effective. Twilight liked her face unliquefied.
Luna turned to take another look. “I believe that is your plan, yes.” She nodded.
Twilight flapped forward a bit then backed off quickly. “Well, it’s a stupid plan!” she declared with a huff.
“Are you afraid, Twilight Sparkle?” Luna teased. “I thought you were over that? I should hate to see you have to repeat a grade.”
“There is a difference between fear and avoiding the sensation of being burned alive,” Twilight insisted, her hackles raised. “Seriously—how in Equestria does Daring Do swing inches above molten lava in every other book? I guess fictional characters don’t have to deal with convection, thermal radiation and other minor consequences of the amount of energy it takes to melt rock like cheese. Where is it even coming from?”
“Ah, well, I suppose avoiding pain is reasonable,” Luna admitted with a wry smile. She quickly forgot the smile as she squinted into the blazing heat. “Twilight, do you see that?”
“It’s… beating,” Twilight noticed. “Luna, why is it beating? Is the magma his blood? Is that normal for a dragon?”
“There is no ‘normal’ when it comes to dragons any more than there is for alicorns,” Luna said. “His name was Emberstoke the Eternal. He is what he is. Do you think you are ready?”
“I think I’m going to need a bigger star,” Twilight said with mock-seriousness.
“Joking aside…” Luna said with all-too-real seriousness. “Are you sure about this, Twilight?”
“I… yeah. This was all part of the plan,” Twilight said, rubbing the smoke out of her eyes and trying to blink away the irritation. “Might as well go through with it.”
“It is a plan you made yesterday,” Luna reasoned. “It can change.”
Twilight shook her head. “No… believe it or not, this was part of Celestia’s plan.”
“I said ‘joking aside,’ Twilight” Luna reminded her with a snort of laughter.
“No, really,” Twilight said emphatically. “The day I went to Canterlot, when you… ran off, she told me—she’d planned for the three of us to go looking for answers about my ascension. ‘Wake up some dragons,’ she said.”
“She really said that?” Luna asked with disbelief. Twilight didn’t blame her; Celestia had a mischievous streak a mile wide, but it tended to be more subtle than the sort of mad playfulness that was required to go around baiting dragons awake.
Twilight could only shake her head and smile. “She did,” she reiterated.
“I was a fool,” Luna said with a disdainful scoff. “It would have been nice.”
“Current evidence to the contrary,” Twilight said, glancing hesitantly at the volcano below, “yeah, it would have. Though, if Celestia were here, I wouldn’t be able to do… this.”
Luna blinked, eyes locked with Twilight in silence as she… did nothing. “Do wh—”
Out of nowhere, a shining ball of light hit the volcano.
It went about as well as one might expect.
✶ ✶ ✶
Twilight stared. Just unabashedly stared. She had never seen such a thing before. It was… beautiful, in a way. White-hot power burned in front of her like the figure of an angry god, which, Twilight supposed, it was.
Oh, and there was a pretty pissed off dragon behind her, too.
Twilight tore her eyes off of Luna’s ethereal form for a moment just in time to see the volcano uncurl. Black rock cracked and split along unseen lines, twisting about into shapes almost limblike and bearing plates—by design or chance, she couldn’t tell. With a crackling like a thousand broken bones, the dragon known as Emberstoke the Eternal pulled itself out of the surrounding landscape.
Slowly, the broken landscape resolved itself into something that Twilight could recognize as a creature if only barely. Rich, golden-red magma poured in great gouts from gaps in its body where rock met rock, rimmed with spatterings of metal. It didn’t have a face so much as there was a splintered crag where such a thing ought to be, with two empty pits that glowed from deep within.
The dragon roared.
If Twilight had had ears, she would have clamped her hooves over them at the screeching sound—but then, if Twilight had had ears, they would have been on fire for a brief moment before withering into blackened husks.
The initial blast of heat had already destroyed her and Luna’s bodies, leaving twin figures of sparkling black and shining white in the night. What came out of the dragon’s misshapen mouth rippled through them, threatening to scatter them back to the sky where they belonged.
Threatening, but unable.
Such was the truth about such creatures as dragons and alicorns. While dragon could feast on dragon and Twilight could reclaim her erstwhile stars, to each other, they could do nothing, and they all knew it.
It was with this in mind that Twilight ripped her star out of the dragon’s side where it had lodged itself and used the burning piece of sky to swat him across the face.
The dragon reeled, stumbling back on its uneven legs until it fell with a crash.
“Emberstoke the Eternal—revered dragon of the south and lord of the blasted lands—I bid you be civil!” Luna shouted in the Royal Canterlot Voice, once again garnering Twilight’s attention.
It was hardly the time to be thinking it, but Luna really was… well, beautiful. There were other words associated with what she was seeing—clean milky moonlight in the shape of a pony—but Twilight was not poetic, and beautiful was as serviceable a word as any.
Just when half-remembered dreams of cuddling the moon had begun to surface, the dragon rumbled, interrupting Twilight’s train of thought and bringing her back to the here and now. It took a moment for her to realize that the dragon was… laughing. Given his size, his voice was so low it barely qualified as sound so much as it did an earthquake.
All things considered, though, laughing was good. Usually when you heard a laugh like that it meant that the world was ending or at least moderately in danger, but given that Twilight had just sucker-punched a dragon with a star the size of a palace… yeah, she’d take the laugh.
“What manner of tiny equine is this that wields the heavens as ball and chain to wrest me from my hard-earned slumber?” he rumbled. “Speak—and I shall entertain thee a moment. ‘Tis not often I am returned to the waking world.”
“I declare myself Luna,” Luna said, her voice radiating a sense of authority which Twilight still lacked. “Princess of Equestria, conqueror of Discord and alicorn of the moon. This be Twilight Sparkle, Archlibrarian of Libraropolis, Element of Magic, conqueror of Discord and alicorn of the stars. By our reckoning, it has been a six thousand years since you began your final slumber.”
“Ponies and their titles.” The dragon grunted, a sound like he was gargling boulders in his throat. “I am Emberstoke, as you seem to know. Come closer; my eyes are not what they were.”
“Dragon humor,” Twilight grumbled quietly to Luna. “Wonderful. You know, my eyes are black pits full of stars, and I’m not complaining.“ Still, they did as they were bid, though in retrospect, it didn't seem to be appreciated.
The dragon’s face couldn’t get any uglier, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. Rock ground against itself as his features, such as they were, twisted in distaste. “So ‘tis true. The alicorns have been borne again into the world… I had heard stories of such creatures when I was a hatchling.”
“You heard stories about alicorns?” Twilight asked, somehow projecting curiosity through the Ponyville Librarian Voice. “Before the age of Discord?”
“Hah!” he cracked. “Maybe as you reckon it, but the draconequus was just a sorry footnote to an age of misery and death, the punchline to a terrible joke that lasted thousands of years. I don’t imagine pony history goes back that far, though, does it?”
Twilight shook her head.
“Where did I hear of you, you ask? How could I not? Do you know what my earliest memory is, o’ alicorn of the night? You should find it interesting, I imagine,” he said with a cruel laugh. “Stars. I remember stars falling from the sky. For years on end—a never-ending torrent of fire and rock the likes of which no dragon could ever aspire to. You died, and the world died with you. That is where I heard of alicorns.”
Twilight bristled uncomfortably. She had died? No, no, of course not. It was the last alicorn of the stars that had died—not her. Though… she was the stars. Okay, it was a bit confusing, she admitted, but there was no reason to let it get to her.
“That’s… um, informative,” she managed to say with a certain level of neutrality.
“Informative.” The dragon snorted with derision. “I should think so. You credit yourself with the draconequus’ defeat, but where do you think he came from?” he asked, his voice booming deeper and louder as he spoke. “It was not by our hands that the world was plunged into chaos—it was you! You and your abominable sister there—whichever is which I don’t care.”
That was hardly fair, Twilight thought, her stars roiling within her. “Hey—that wasn’t us!” she objected.
“Pfah, of course it was,” the dragon said, slamming one claw into the rocky landscape and squeezing jagged rock through his fingers like sand. “Unnatural creatures you are. There were four of you at the dawn of time, and there will be four of you when this land is cold and dead. At least dragons know when to move on.”
“Wait, four?” Twilight asked, her disquiet gaining an edge of eagerness that she couldn’t hide. “What four? Who were they?”
All at once, the dragon’s anger vanished, and his mouth, such as it was, suddenly split into a splintered grin. “Oh dear, I believe I have said too much.”
With those words, the bottom fell out of Twilight’s excitement. She allowed herself a moment of disappointment before reigning it in. Such things came with the territory, and she couldn’t let them dissuade her. Just when she was about to change the subject, the dragon spoke up.
“What it was you came here for, I do not know, but I seem to have been useful and for that I sincerely apologize,” he said, putting one claw on his chest and bowing forward. The effect was somewhat altered by the golden-red liquid that poured out of the pits where his eyes ought to have been. “If that’s all, I was having a nice dream, I think, and I should like to chase it down.”
“What?” Twilight yelped in panic. It couldn’t be over already. There was no way she could accept that. “No, that’s not—you can’t just—” she sputtered.
“Begone!” the dragon shouted as he raked the ground with one claw and flung a hail of rock and ash in Twilight and Luna’s direction. The debris splashed harmlessly through their ethereal forms, and Twilight was about to respond in kind when Luna’s shining white hoof stopped her.
By the time the ash cleared, Twilight could no longer pick out the shape of the dragon's body amongst the rock. “Argh!” she shouted in frustration, fuming over the loss.
“It’s okay, Twilight. Let it be. This is to be expected,” Luna said consolingly, “I should apologize; when I was telling you about dragons, I believe there is one detail about them I left out.”
“What was it?”
“Dragons are jerks.”